/lit/ - Literature

My girlfriend belched and patted her fat belly. "Oof, no more."

"But there's still half the plate left," said I, and shoved the pasta platter closer.

"But I'm so full," she groaned. She noticed the intensity with which I stared at her, particularly as she spoke those words. She hid a playful smirk and wallowed where she sat, maximizing the considerable spread of her large arse. "Look at me, I'm already so fat. Do you know how much weight I've put on just in the last month? I've gone up a pants size, and these are snug."

"You might as well outgrow them, then," I said, and scooted her plate that much closer.

I saw her eyes engage in awful struggle. She of course knew where this would lead: to folded rolls and waddling walks and difficulty standing up. But my dear girl was greedy, as certain women get. Certain people as a whole, in fact: indulge them in their appetites enough and you untether them from modesty's strong dock, setting them adrift in seas of unceasing indulgence.

My girlfriend smiled, showing off her double chin. "I might as well outgrow them," she admitted, reaching for her plate.