I had barely wrapped the towel around myself before I heard his exasperated sigh. As I turned, I knew where this was going. It was where it always went. He was going to make a comment about my weight again.

"Lizzy, how much do you weigh now?" he said, his eyebrows furrowed with disappointment. I didn't have a clue, but I knew I had gained weight again over the last six months. It had been a steady climb; the last time I checked, I was 205.

"I don't know, Ben," I said, my face flushing with embarrassment. He had been on me for the last year about my figure—mind you, I was never a small thing. On our wedding day, I had weighed 185, and that was two years ago.

"Well, you should check, Liz," he said with a hint of passive-aggressiveness in his voice.

"I have to get ready for work," I responded. "I can check tonight."

"You know we have that vacation in six months with all our friends," he said. "I just want to make sure you—"

"Aren't going to embarrass you with my weight?" I interrupted, grabbing another towel to wrap around my head. It was maddening; I had never been a skinny girl. I had always had big hips, a bigger butt, and always carried a little bit of a belly. He didn't complain back then.

My husband wanted a thick girl, not a fat one. His comments had been becoming more frequent the more full my love handles became—the more dimples that would show up on my butt. It was like he could see when a new roll was forming on midsection, and it was driving him crazy.

"It will only take two seconds," he pleaded. As came behind me and steered me towards the little gray digital scale that sat in our bathroom.

"It will only take two seconds," he pleaded, coming up behind me and steering me toward the little gray digital scale that sat in our bathroom.

"Ben, I will do it later!" I shouted.

"Liz, seriously, just get on the scale," he said, his hands placed on my hips. I let out a long sigh and stepped toward it. "We need to make sure it's accurate."

Ben reached up and removed the towel from my wet hair, letting the water drip down onto my shoulders, before reaching around and pulling the other towel away. I looked down, feeling completely exposed—at my breasts and the part of me he complained about most: my belly, which looked round, with the faint silver of stretch marks starting to become visible.

I knew my face was bright red; I could feel the heat as I placed my first foot on the scale. Little dashes flickered, waiting for the second foot to join it.

"Fine, just stop harassing me about it!" I growled. I stood still and watched the numbers start to climb. I watched them fly past 205, then 210, finally settling on 213.

"Jeez, Lizzy, you’re almost 215 now," he remarked. I could feel his gaze raking over my pear shaped body. "Your butt is getting pretty big, too."

"You know, it’s pretty rude to talk about my weight, even if you are my husband. Besides, I always thought you liked how big my butt was. Didn’t you say it was the first thing that caught your eye?"

"I mean, of course, but it was a different kind of big back then. Now it looks like it could barely fit into anything you used to wear."

I quickly shuffled to our bedroom, digging through the closet and pulling out my size sixteen black pants. He was right; when we first started dating, I was a size twelve and it was actually a bit loose. Now, the size I wore was starting to feel tight around my hips and thighs. I snatched a dark green blouse and pulled it over my wet hair. As I straightened it over my belly, I realized it was starting to feel tight, too.

It came at the most inopportune time—my stomach rumbled and growled. This was usually the time I’d be heading out to work and making a stop for breakfast.

"How about this, Liz," Ben said from the doorway. "We come up with a diet plan that works for your lifestyle. Maybe start by eating out less."

"How about you just let me go to work and not worry about what I eat right now?" I snapped back.

I grabbed my things and rushed out the door, fighting back tears as I climbed into my car. As I pulled out of the driveway, the first tear escaped and streamed down my cheek. My hair was still wet and I was starting to sob as I drove toward work, my stomach growling again. As I approached my usual spot—the fast food place where I always got a breakfast sandwich—I steered the car into the drive-thru lane, pulling in behind another car.

"I'm so sick of this! I'm not even that big!" I shouted to myself, wiping my eyes as the line moved forward and I followed.

"What can I get for you today?" a crackling voice asked through the speaker.

"Can I get a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit, please? With a medium coffee."

"Anything else we can get for you today?"

As I wiped away another tear, I was suddenly filled with a hot flash of anger. The words seemed to pour out of me, fueled by pure resentment. "Actually, can I add a large Coke with that?"

"Sure. Anything else?"

"Hmm, let me think."

"Take your time, ma'am."

Inspired by @i-thiccarus ✨💙

Written by @cherrylimebby 🍒💣

~~~~~~~~

Of course, you’d insisted on not skipping dessert, and now your shirt had ridden up just enough for me to notice how round your belly looked against the steering wheel.

Instinctively, I reached over, trying to tug the fabric back down.

Instead, my hand lingered there.

There was still a little space between your stomach and the wheel—just enough for my tiny fist to fit without touching either.

Mh.

“Your belly’s almost touching the wheel, Daddy,” I murmur with a smile, letting my palm rest against the warmth beneath your shirt.

You glance down for half a second, your cheeks immediately beginning to color. Even the softest touch makes you let out a tiny burp.

You’re so full.

“I just had a big dinner, that’s all.”

“Mhm…” I hum, thoroughly unconvinced, tracing slow circles over the tightest part of your stomach. “That’s not what it looks like.”

⸻

You’d eaten so much today, and I honestly don’t think you were even trying to impress me.

I watched you wander into the kitchen still looking pleasantly stuffed from the night before, your hoodie hanging open just enough to let your sleepy morning belly breathe before the day officially started.

Like always, you started the morning with your large coffee loaded with heavy cream, and before I even brought over your stack of pancakes, you were already halfway through your second cup.

The moment I left for work, my phone was flooded with pictures of every snack you found throughout the day, accompanied by little updates about how full you still felt.

You’re such a tease.

So, naturally, when I clocked out, I decided we were going to the buffet.

Anything to spoil my piggy.

I was finished after my first plate.

You, however…

You were only getting started.

Every time your plate emptied, I found myself walking back for another one before you even had the chance to ask.

Watching you eat was strangely satisfying.

Every time I reached across the booth to rub your belly beneath the table, I caught the way your expression softened, how your cheeks warmed just a little more.

When you asked for dessert…

❤️‍🔥That might’ve been my favorite part.❤️‍🔥

⸻

You laugh, catching my wandering fingers before they can slip any farther.

“Princess,” you chuckle, “I’m driving.”

I exaggerate the biggest pout I can manage before settling for leaving my hand on your thick thigh instead, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

I love being a little bratty for you.

“I just think…” I tease, “…you look like you’re due any day now.”

Your ears turn pink, and I catch the tiny smile you’re trying so hard to hide.

“It’s all your doing,” you mumble. “You fed me in there like I was eating for two.”

“I think it looks really good on you,” I admit, unable to hide the admiration in my eyes.

“What does?”

“All the changes.”

I lean over, noticing the buttons on your shirt barely holding on anymore. Slowly, I begin undoing them one by one until your belly finally settles comfortably beneath the loosened fabric.

Your whole expression softens.

“Watching you grow into yourself… seeing your clothes fit just a little tighter every week… the way you unconsciously slow down because you’re carrying so much more of yourself now…”

“I didn’t expect to gain this quickly,” you sigh, relaxing as my hand gently cups the softness of your lower belly.

I smile up at you.

“It’s ridiculously cute.”

You pull into the driveway, shift into park, and turn to look at me with that expression that always manages to make my heart skip.

“What are you doing to me, Princess?”

I laugh softly.

“Me?” I ask innocently. “You’re the one walking around the buffet with a full plate, looking all handsome in those little tight shorts.” I say as if I had no doing in that buffet.

My fingertips drift down to your thighs, gently squeezing the softness spilling over the fabric.

You lean back against the seat with a quiet sigh.

After a long moment, you shake your head, trying—and failing—not to smile.

“I swear you enjoy embarrassing me.”

A beat passes before you add with a quiet laugh,

“Seeing me all fat and helpless for you.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Before you can protest again, I lean over and steal a kiss.

You smile into it almost immediately.

One hand finds the back of my head while the other settles over the hand that’s still resting against your belly.

“I used to be hot…” you murmur quietly, your voice brushing against my ear. “I had abs people were jealous of.”

You glance down at yourself before looking back at me.

“Now look at me…”

Your hand guides mine against the softness of your belly, encouraging me to hold it just a little tighter.

“You know…” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper, “…I still think you’re ridiculously hot.”

You gently curl your fingers into my hair, just the way you know I like.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

I grin so wide it almost hurts.

“My very well-fed, wonderfully rounded fat daddy.”

You let out an exaggerated groan, already knowing I’m never going to stop teasing you.

Honestly…

✨Neither of us wants me to.✨

For a long moment, neither of us says anything.

Just the quiet hum of the cooling engine filling the silence between us as we give into our passionate kiss making us both breathless.

Then you let out the tiniest laugh.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

I grin.

When you're so close... but not with the right people to actually go inside.

- sighs mournfully -

The custodian had forgotten to clean out the small waste bin under my desk. Maybe he hadn't noticed all the different wrappers from breakfast sandwiches and candy bars piled in there; it had to be at least three days' worth. I looked down at my belly, which was neatly folded into two big, fleshy rolls. The gray fabric of my favorite blouse had become trapped inside the crevice.

I felt incredibly bloated. Not only had I been eating larger breakfasts every day, but I’d also been snacking throughout my entire shift. Chips, candy, and soda now rounded out my diet.

I had thought that after the initial day of being spiteful, the urge would stop, but something about it made me feel in control. It was a strange sensation; I couldn’t quite put my finger on why it gave me such a sense of power.

I had always felt huge compared to them, even when I was smaller. My husband’s friends all had thin or athletic wives, and while they were kind enough, you could always tell where I stood. I was the "fat friend" of the group.

I leaned back in my chair. We hadn’t all been together at the same time since my wedding. This was a big deal to my husband—all of his closest friends gathered for a week-long vacation, wives in tow. They would be svelte, still wearing the same sizes they wore years ago.

Me, however? I would be heavier and rounder. I could already imagine Ben seething as his friends strolled around the resort, arms locked with their wives in their cute, tiny outfits, while he and I walked behind. I could see it: my belly pushing my top to the brink, while my hips and butt struggled to be contained by my shorts.

I looked at the bag of chips and the can of soda. I felt a surge of defiance as I reached inside and started munching on them while I worked.

"Hey, Liz," a female voice called out, taking me by surprise. I turned to see Bethany, a coworker of mine, standing outside my cubicle.

"Oh, hey," I said, my mouth full of chips as I looked over at her. She was just like the wives of my husband’s friends—about my height, but almost eighty pounds lighter. She had a flat stomach and was dressed professionally, though her outfit still showed off her skinny frame and perky chest.

"Did you get that email about them wanting those numbers by tomorrow?" she asked. I noticed her eyes peering down, avoiding my face and staring at something else instead.

"Yeah, I’ll make sure it’s in everyone’s inbox by the end of the day tomorrow."

"Um, Liz," she said, nudging her head toward my lap. The bottom of my bloated belly had managed to creep out, exposing the lower part of the larger roll where it spilled over my waistband.

"Oh," I giggled, pulling my shirt down to cover the exposed skin. The giggle was not the response Bethany—or I—had expected. She arched an eyebrow for a second, looking bewildered, before walking away.

leaned forward, checking to make sure the fabric covered all of my belly. As I started to settle back into work, I heard my phone vibrate on my desk. I saw that Ben was calling me. "Hello?" I answered.

"Hey, Liz, how is work?" he asked casually.

"It's fine. How is your day going?"

"It’s really busy, which is why I’m calling," he replied. "But I took care of dinner for you tonight since I’ll be stuck at the office."

"Oh, really?" I said. "That’s pretty sweet of you."

"Yeah, I took an early lunch and bought some salad fixings for you for tonight."

"Salad?"

"Yeah, sweetie. Remember we have that trip coming up, so I figured I’d help out."

"Oh, I see," I replied, my tone turning dry. What I thought had been a sweet gesture was just another way of passively telling me to lose weight—weaponizing food against me.

"Yeah, I figured I’d just make it easy, you know?"

"Thanks, but listen, I have a lot of work to catch up on," I said. "I’ll see you when you get home, okay?"

"Alright, I’ll see you then," he answered.

I hung up, stood up from my chair, and grabbed my purse. I started walking toward the door, passing Bethany’s cubicle. She shot a glance toward me, clearly checking to see if my belly had become exposed again.

"I think I’m going to head out for lunch," I said.

"Alright," she replied. She must have noticed the angry scowl on my face. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it’s fine," I snapped. I pulled out my phone and started scrolling through my food options. Getting me salad fixings, I thought bitterly. How about a big lunch and some more snacks instead?

"Alright, well, I’ll see you when you get back," she replied. "What are you thinking of getting? Maybe you can bring me back something."

"I’m thinking of getting a burger," I said, already imagining ordering two burgers and maybe a large shake. "That new place down the street, I think."

"I’ve heard it’s pretty good, actually. I heard their appetizers are great alongside the entrees."