You had already arranged several harmless little objects across the floor by the time I walked into the room.
Plastic containers, an old cardboard box, and a tiny stool that looked far too fragile to support me.
I stared at them, then at you.
You pointed toward the stool.
My cheeks immediately grew warm. I looked down at its thin plastic legs and hesitated.
“You know I’m too heavy for that.”
You smiled like that was exactly the answer you wanted.
I slowly turned around and began lowering myself, keeping most of my weight on my legs at first. The stool creaked beneath me before I had even fully settled onto it.
You placed your hands on my waist.
I obeyed, letting my full weight sink onto the plastic. It bent beneath me instantly, the legs spreading slightly while my soft belly rested heavily in my lap.
The creaking grew louder.
I looked back at you nervously.
“That’s what it’s there for.”
You told me to shift my weight, and the plastic groaned beneath every small movement. Then, with one final crack, the stool collapsed completely.
I gasped as it flattened underneath me, leaving me surrounded by broken pieces while you stood there looking far too pleased.
“Look at what your weight did,” you whispered.
I lowered my eyes, embarrassed.
But you were already placing the cardboard box behind me.
I glanced at the crushed stool, then at the next fragile object waiting beneath me.
“You want me to break all of them?”
You rested a hand on my belly and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“I want to see how many things give up beneath you.”
One after another, you guided me onto every harmless prop you had prepared. Each one bent, buckled, or flattened under my weight while you praised me for staying still and letting my body do all the work.
By the end, broken cardboard and crushed plastic surrounded me.
You looked over the mess before turning back to me with a satisfied smile.
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