The birthday wish

Request

I practiced the words all day. I said them out loud to myself over and over, pacing the hallway. I tried to relax. I tried to take deep breaths. I tried to still my shaking hands.

He must know. He has to know. Surely he already knows.

I've never been thin, but when we started dating, I was significantly thinner. At 5'8" and 195, I was certainly curvy, with a bit of a wide hips, thick thighs, and a little apron belly. I knew it kind of bothered him. He was used to dating skinny women and it took some time for him to adjust to the idea of dating a curvy woman. But I was confident and sexy and he came around.

But now, after graduate school, two kids, a new job, and a move, I'm full on fat. I weighed this morning and when the scale showed me 249.7, I was pretty shocked. I can tell I'm bigger, of course. I've cycled through wardrobes and bought new clothes. Strategized flattering selfie angles and moved mirrors out of the way. My belly hangs in inches now, covered in stretch marks with patches of cellulite. I carry most of my weight in my belly, but handfuls of soft, delicate, pillowy new skin tuft my inner thighs, and my love handles bulge over my hips. I have chubby cheeks and a double chin. My fingers are getting plump. The muffin top is basically my only fashion accessory. At this point, I'm undeniably, largely fat.

I don't like it. I didn't do it on purpose. I'm not trying to get fatter and fatter and I don't have some big gaining goal. I'd beg, borrow, or steal to get that 195 lb body back, the one I thought was so pudgy and sexy. I know he doesn't like it. In part, I know he doesn't like it because we haven't had sex in two years. In part, I know he doesn't like it because he's always talking about how we should lose weight. And I want to lose weight. I really do. But then there's eating...and then there's binging... and then there's stuffing myself so much that I can't move. And that's.....

I used to stuff myself occasionally before we met. I'd set up a webcam and go to town on a pizza or bag full of hamburgers. I'd eat until I couldn't swallow anymore, moaning into the camera. I'd measure my belly and flaunt its tightness then rub myself down. Once I at two little Cesar's pizzas and I thought I might pass out. I laid there, I kid you not, watching My 600 Lb Life, rubbing my poor swollen belly wondering what on Earth I was doing to myself. Then I got thirsty and found a two liter of soda and sipped it til it was gone. It was one of the most thrilling, belly bursting experiences of my life. I found a nearby feeder on Craigslist but he had a girlfriend and he didn't want to meet up. He'd text or chat with me while I went off the rails, but I really wished I'd had someone there with me. Someone to really see the swollen mass of belly I created in my binging. Then I met Daniel and I gave it all up. I could tell he wouldn't understand, and I decided I'd just never tell him.

You can't quit the kink, though, and I know you know what I mean. I pushed it down, deep as I could and I didn't think about it very often. But sometimes I'd have a dream that I was as fat as a whale, gobbling everything in sight, or sometimes I'd over indulge at a nice dinner or party and have to fight that old hypnosis that says "eat and don't stop, don't stop until it hurts or it's all gone". I'd stay up all night playing with my belly and reading weight gain stories. I'd sneak into the bathroom to try on outgrown clothes. And so, today, on my birthday, I decided I'd tell him.

So I planned out exactly what I would say. I practiced it. I prepared to tell him.

"This is going to sound weird. But for all my life, as long as I can remember, I've been attracted to big bellies." No. That's not quite right.

"So you know how sometimes I really get excited when it's time to eat?"

No. Not quite.

"It's my birthday and I'm going to ask you for a special present." Not perfect, but we'll go with it.

"It's my birthday and I'm going to ask you for a special present. I have this fantasy. It's simple. I want us to go to McDonald's. Then, I want to order two double cheeseburgers, two large fries, and a 10 piece of nuggets. Then I want to say 'and whatever he wants'. Then I want to sit down and eat the food. When I'm done, I want to order more cheeseburgers until I absolutely cannot eat anymore. Then I want to come home and I want you to fuck me. Just be careful of my belly. It's going to be a bit full."

Over and over and over I said it, until I heard the garage door open and I knew he was home from work. I turned as he came in and, smiling his sweet lazy smile, kissed me on the cheek and said "hey birthday girl".

"It's my birthday and I want to ask you for a special present" I blurted out.