“Stop staring at my belly.”

You don’t.

Honestly, I knew you wouldn’t.

I’m standing in front of you with my shirt already riding higher than it should, takeout spread across the table behind me, and a body that looks very different from the one you first met.

My thighs are fuller. My hips take up more space. My arms have gotten softer.

And my belly?

Yeah. There’s no hiding that anymore.

“You’ve gotten huge.”

I smile immediately.

“Say it like you mean it.”

Your eyes move over me again.

“Really huge.”

Much better.

I sit down and pull dinner toward me—burgers, cheesy fries, something fried, dessert, and a thick shake.

You laugh.

“All of that?”

I steal a fry.

“Are you judging me?”

“No.”

“Good answer.”

I start eating while you watch from across the table.

At first I’m fast, genuinely hungry, barely pausing between the hot burger, salty fries, and cold shake.

But little by little, I start slowing down.

My belly grows heavier beneath my shirt. My waistband presses harder into my sides. My thighs feel wider against the chair every time I shift.

And somehow, knowing you’re noticing everything makes me want to keep going.

“You’re getting really full.”

“I know.”

“You could stop.”

I look at the dessert.

Then at you.

“But look how much you’re enjoying this.”

That shuts you up.

I take another bite.

You eventually come closer, standing behind my chair and letting your hands settle carefully around my waist.

The smallest pressure makes me hyperaware of how full I am.

You feel it too.

“There’s so much more of you now.”

I lean back against you.

“That’s kind of the point.”

Your hands move slowly over my sides, feeling the extra softness while I finish the last few bites of dessert.

“You really love getting bigger.”

I look down at my body.

My shirt is stretched tighter. My stomach looks round and heavy. Even my face feels warmer and softer after everything I’ve eaten.

“I love feeling bigger.”

Then I glance up at you.

“And I really love when you notice.”

You smile.

“Greedy.”

“Very.”

I finish the last sip of my shake and stand, immediately feeling all that food settle heavily inside me.

You look me over again.

I catch you staring.

“You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“Looking at me like you want even more of me.”

You don’t deny it.

So I step closer, take your hand, and place it over my full belly.

“Careful, sweetheart.”

“With what?”

I smile.

“If you keep encouraging me like this, I’m going to start thinking you actually want me to get impossible to handle.”

Your expression tells me everything.

I laugh softly and turn toward the kitchen.

“Where are you going?”

I open the fridge.

“Looking for something sweet.”

“You just had dessert.”

I glance back at you.

“And?”

You shake your head.

I smile.

“Exactly.”

(I’m getting back into the habit of writing🤭 you’ll get the longer versions of my stories. Let me know what you think of them and whether you’d like more)