princess going hog wild

You place the fast-food bags in front of me and tell me not to touch anything.

“You eat when I feed you.”

I nod and keep my hands in my lap.

You start with a hot, salty fry, crisp on the outside and soft in the middle. Then you hold the burger to my lips. The bun is warm and fluffy, the cheese thick and melted, and the sauce coats my tongue as I take the bite you chose for me.

“Good girl. Again.”

I obey.

You alternate between crunchy fries, heavy bites of burger, and cold sips of milkshake until my belly begins pressing tightly against my waistband.

“I’m getting full,” I whisper.

“I know,” you say, resting your hand over my stomach. “You’re doing so well.”

Then you lift another fry to my lips.

Like you make your partner fat and they look soooo good, but the inevitable next thought is "damn, if they look this good now, how much better is a few extra pounds going to look?" Then you're off to the donut shop to bring them more treats.

Or you're looking at their belly and it's looking huge and all you can think is "if it were stuffed, it's be even rounder!" Then you're off to get them a burrito.

Or you're just hanging out doing nothing, and the rogue thought comes into your head "I wonder how long it would take them to eat a full cake?" And of course, you're off to the bakery.