Tonight I have Struggle on my mind.
I want to see the way your body struggles desperately to behave in the ways human bodies were designed to because of how incredibly fucking fat you've eaten yourself. Me having to sickly sweet encourage you to do things that should be second nature - "that's it sweetie, oh I know it's so hard, but just a few more steps and you can sit down". Us getting sidelong glances every time we exist in public as you wheeze against me, the spectacle of tiny little me hanging on to your thick arm trying to support you as you shuffle yourself forward.
You finally flopping back down into the couch when we get back, both you and it groaning with the weight. Breathless, red-faced with exertion and embarrassment that this is what it's come to. You're almost in tears. Between gasps for air - "I'm too big, baby, I'm too heavy, it's too much 🥺"
I disappear to come back with a near industrial size tub of cream puffs and mini eclairs and shush you gently as I pop one after another into your mouth to soothe you. "It's okay baby. I know. You're so hopelessly obese for me now, aren't you? Oh, you poor sweet pig. It hurts, doesn't it? You just say the word and we stop."
You have a safe word. I remind you of it often. You've never used it. Right now, any words you try and say - although they're really nothing more than a desperate moan for more, are muffled by the thousands of calories of cream and pastry, but even if you could, I know you're not ready to yet. You need this. I saw it in you and I nurtured it and I know you won't stop swallowing and swelling for me, no matter the cost.
blakekathryn
titsay
areudirty
jacobvanloon
kaledo-art
turnnoffyourmind
yousharknotpass
prguitarman
