The house on Privet Drive had become quieter than ever since Harry left. Vernon, as predictable as a sunset, stayed glued to the television with his stern routines and boisterous declarations, leaving Petunia with little to fill her time. For years, she had meticulously maintained the perfect image: thin, prim, controlled. She had seen herself as the standard-bearer of the Dursley family, a testament to order and discipline. But in those quiet hours, as she sat alone in the pristine kitchen, Petunia began to feel an odd twinge of rebellion against that image. A craving, deeply embedded but long neglected, nudged its way to the surface.
It started innocently enough, with a bite of cake she’d made for dessert. She’d rarely indulged, always serving herself the slimmest slice and leaving the bulk to Vernon and Dudley, yet that evening, her fork hesitated, hovering over an untouched slice that had just a hint of frosting clinging to the side. Petunia took a tentative bite, letting the sweetness melt on her tongue. She’d almost forgotten what pleasure could be found in a slice of cake. When her plate was empty, she decided to indulge further. Another slice turned into two, and two became three. Her stomach felt full—almost uncomfortably so—but there was something intoxicating about it, a sense of breaking through years of confinement.
The days that followed felt like a rush of liberation. Petunia found herself gravitating toward foods she had once forbidden herself: toasted sandwiches dripping with melted cheese, greasy hamburgers with soft, pillowy buns, and the heady aroma of sausages sizzling in a pan. She could spend whole mornings sampling different pastries from the bakery, savoring the flakiness of a croissant or the dense, satisfying richness of a muffin laden with chocolate chips. The limits she had placed on herself seemed to dissolve, and she gave herself permission to eat as much as she pleased.
At first, the changes were small. Her clothes, which had once fit with precise, almost surgical snugness, began to feel tighter, the fabric stretching just slightly over her stomach. She noticed the waistband of her skirts pressing into her skin, leaving faint marks when she removed them at the end of the day. Her arms felt softer, the bones that once jutted sharply now cushioned with a gentle layer of flesh. But it was her belly, in particular, that fascinated her.
The first time she truly noticed the change was after a particularly indulgent lunch. She’d eaten a platter of roast chicken with buttery potatoes and sweet, glazed carrots, followed by a generous helping of sticky toffee pudding. As she leaned back, sighing contentedly, she felt the weight of her stomach pressing against the waistband of her skirt. She pressed her hand against it, feeling the firmness beneath her fingers, the fullness of her meal settling deep in her belly. There was an undeniable thrill in the way her stomach protruded, rounding out in a way that was entirely foreign to her. She felt—dare she think it?—proud.
With that newfound pride, Petunia threw herself into her indulgence with a fervor she had never allowed herself before. Breakfast became a feast: buttery scrambled eggs piled high on toast, crispy bacon, and pancakes drowned in syrup. Lunches were decadent affairs, often including burgers oozing with cheese and stacked high with toppings, the juices dribbling down her fingers as she bit into them. She delighted in the richness of steak, the juiciness of lamb chops, and the comforting heaviness of shepherd’s pie. Each meal left her feeling pleasantly full, her belly swelling with satisfaction, her appetite seemingly insatiable.
Over the weeks, her belly grew, softening into a visible curve that spilled ever so slightly over the waistband of her skirts. She found herself adjusting her clothing, loosening belts, unbuttoning the top button of her skirts when she sat down. But rather than deter her, the changes emboldened her. She began to wear her growing belly with pride, even letting her hand rest on it absentmindedly as she walked through the house. She no longer saw her body as a rigid symbol of restraint, but rather as a testament to pleasure, to freedom, to finally letting herself live without limits.
As the weeks turned into months, Petunia’s body continued to change. Her arms grew softer, her thighs thickened, and her belly became a full, round dome that she would often gaze at with fascination. It had a delightful heft to it now, a comforting weight that jiggled slightly as she moved. Her appetite seemed only to increase, her cravings for rich, fatty foods intensifying. She would spend whole evenings in the kitchen, surrounded by plates of food, savoring each bite as her belly grew fuller and fuller. She loved the feeling of stretching her stomach to its limits, the ache of fullness that lingered long after she had eaten her fill.
Petunia took particular pleasure in her desserts, indulging in cakes, pastries, and puddings with abandon. She’d pile her plate high with cream-filled éclairs, buttery shortbread, and slices of dense chocolate cake, relishing the sweetness that coated her tongue. Her belly would grow taut and round as she ate, pressing firmly against her clothes until she was forced to loosen them. She adored the sight of her belly, swollen and glistening with the remnants of her indulgence, a physical reminder of her freedom.
Eventually, her clothes could no longer accommodate her expanding form. Her skirts and blouses, once tailored to her slim frame, now strained and stretched, clinging tightly to her rounded belly and thickened thighs. She took a secret pleasure in watching the fabric pull taut over her belly, the seams struggling to contain her. When she finally purchased new clothes, she chose styles that accentuated her figure, clothes that hugged her curves and showcased the fullness of her body. She relished the way her belly rounded out in her new dresses, proudly on display for all to see.
As she continued to indulge, Petunia’s belly became a constant, comforting presence, a reminder of her newfound freedom and pride. She took to placing her hand on it, feeling its soft, warm weight, marveling at how it had grown. She no longer held back, no longer restricted herself, and in that freedom, she found a joy she had never known before.
There were times when she would sit, fully satiated from a meal, and simply admire the curve of her belly. It was soft and full, a testament to her indulgence, to her refusal to conform to the rigid expectations she had once imposed upon herself. She’d give it a gentle pat, feeling the slight jiggle beneath her hand, a sensation that filled her with a profound sense of satisfaction. She was no longer the thin, controlled woman she had once been; she was a woman who had embraced her desires, who had allowed herself to grow and expand in ways she had never thought possible.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast a warm, amber glow throughout the house, Petunia found herself drawn to the full-length mirror in her bedroom. She had just finished a particularly indulgent dinner of rich lasagna, buttery garlic bread, and a generous slice of tiramisu. The satisfaction of her meal lingered, leaving her feeling both content and curious. She stood before the mirror, allowing her eyes to take in the changes that had transformed her body over the past months.
Petunia's eyes first settled on her face, which had softened noticeably. Her cheeks were fuller, rounder, and carried a subtle flush from the warmth of the food and the pleasure of her indulgence. Her neck had lost its sharp angles, now gently curved and plump, leading down to her shoulders, which had also filled out. She traced the lines of her collarbones, which were now less pronounced, buried under a comforting layer of flesh.
Her gaze traveled down to her arms, once thin and bony, now soft and substantial. They no longer hung limply at her sides but had a satisfying weight to them. The sleeves of her blouse, which had once fit loosely, now clung to her upper arms, highlighting their new, plush curves. She lifted an arm and gave it a gentle squeeze, marveling at the softness beneath her fingers.
But it was her torso that held the most dramatic transformation. Petunia's breasts had grown fuller, resting heavily against her chest, but it was her belly that drew her eyes. Her once-flat stomach had blossomed into a magnificent dome, round and protruding, a symbol of her uninhibited indulgence. She placed both hands on her belly, feeling its soft, warm weight, marveling at how it filled her palms. Her fingers sank slightly into the flesh, the sensation sending a thrill through her. She turned slightly to the side, admiring the way her belly jutted out, forming a pronounced curve that was impossible to ignore.
Her hips, too, had widened, giving her figure an alluring, voluptuous shape. The skirts and trousers she wore had to accommodate her new, generous proportions, hugging her hips and thighs snugly. She ran her hands over her hips, feeling the firm, rounded contours that had replaced her once-narrow frame. Her thighs had thickened, now pressing together as she stood, the fabric of her clothing stretched taut over them.
Petunia took a step back, allowing herself to take in the full view of her body. She turned slightly, watching how her belly and hips swayed with her movements, a testament to the weight she now carried. She admired the way her clothes clung to her curves, emphasizing the softness and fullness of her figure. She twirled slowly, feeling the fabric stretch and shift over her expanded form, her belly jiggling slightly with the motion.
There was a profound sense of pride as she gazed at herself. She had allowed herself to break free from the rigid constraints that had once defined her, embracing a life of indulgence and pleasure. Her body was a reflection of that freedom, a canvas that displayed the joy she had found in eating without restraint. Every inch of her had transformed, from her rounded cheeks to her plump arms, from her full breasts to her magnificent belly, from her wide hips to her thickened thighs. She was no longer the thin, controlled woman she had once been; she was now a proud, fat woman who reveled in the pleasure of her own body.
Petunia placed a hand on her belly once more, giving it a gentle pat. It wobbled slightly under her touch, a sensation that filled her with an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. She smiled at her reflection, her eyes sparkling with pride and contentment. She had embraced her desires, allowing herself to grow and expand in ways she had never imagined possible. And as she stood there, admiring her fat, beautiful body, she knew that she had found a profound sense of happiness and freedom in the journey of becoming herself.
In that moment, Petunia Dursley felt truly, deeply proud of the woman she had become.