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“La salade,” said Elise. You managed to hold in your disappointment, though only barely. “Honey, I know I’m on vacation. But I ate way too much from that bakery.” You shyly say that you liked watching her eat. “You’re sweet, but you can watch me eat a salad.” The salad came with a light vinaigrette and a glass of wine. Elise finished her meal ages before you finished yours. She chatted about things to see and do around the area. “I hear there is a perfume factory,” she said. You said that sounded lovely and Elise beamed. She suggested that you two go tomorrow. You agree and sigh internally over going to a place that your wife wants to go to. Maybe she’ll make it up to you later in the trip.
You two return to the hotel room feeling worn. Elise changes into her pajamas. You’ve always thought they were cute, though prudish. They stretched over her heavy arms down to her wrists and ended in lacey frills. The pants did the same, though you noticed that Elise’s belly sometimes slipped into view. Each time, she pulled the shirt down absentmindedly. Around bedtime, you settle in together and cuddle. You’re both too tired from flying to do anything exciting, but it felt great to be in each others’ arms. Your eyes grew heavy as you hold onto her round stomach from behind. She let your rest your palms on it despite her embarrassment over its size.
Her stomach rumbled. “Sorry,” she says softly over her shoulder. You began to slip back into sleep when the noise returned loudly. “I’m going to get a glass of water,” she said. Elise came back shortly and settled down. The sound returned, louder. Elise apologized again and tried to settle down. But she couldn’t. You felt so tired that you could drop, but Elise’s stomach wouldn’t letter her relax. “I’m so hungry,” she whined. “I—I should have had more for dinner. I just...I don’t want to get too heavy.” You tell her, half-asleep, that you’d like her heavier. Elise, more awake, asked again. You said that you loved her higher weight and that you’d adored watching her grow more beautiful with every year. “You mean heavier?” she said. You say that you loved her belly and that it was torture to keep your hands off it. By this time, you’re convinced that you’re asleep because you couldn’t ever admit these things to your weight-conscious wife. She’d freak out! “You really like that I’m f-f-fat?” she asked. You said you loved it. You wanted her to eat herself into a stupor after every meal. Then you’d give her a belly rub to help her digest it. The next meal would be even more decadent and every one afterward. Until, you said, Elise was a goddess of gluttony. “I’d help you get so fucking fat,” you said as your eyes closed. “You’d be so beautiful. Just satisfying your hunger and letting me take care of you…”
Elise thought as she tried again to get comfortable and couldn’t. The hotel didn’t offer room service after 10pm and there were no stores open nearby according to her phone. The hunger pangs kept her up more than half the night so she had plenty of time to wonder about what she wanted. Did she really want to struggle with salad? Or did she want to continue to indulge for you?
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