I want you to expect dessert after every meal or a stop at the ice cream shop everytime we're out. I want you to be annoyed with me if I ever come home without a big bag of greasy food just for you. I don't want you to ask - but to demand - your cravings fulfilled.
I want your appetite to never come into play, because I'll have done my job ensuring that you're perpetually full. Your desires should be exclusively shaped by whims and cravings for unnecessary calories, and if I'm doing the job I aspire to, those whims and cravings should never need to be spoken because I'll have learned to anticipate your every desire before you are able to put them into words. When your pudgy hand reaches out for another treat, I want your exact craving to be within reach.
I want your expectations to be ridiculous, unyeilding, and unconscious. I want you always wanting more, expecting more, and getting more without even having to ask as your ever-softening body expands and rounds out further. But you'll barely even notice - except when I'm praising you for it - because the way I treat you will feel so natural: feel like exactly what you deserve.