Chapter 2 - the honeymoon

At the shared age of 26, Delilah and I were old enough to know what we were doing. We had only dated for one year before we decided to tie the knot, but in our view, that was more than enough time. From the moment we met, we felt the same spark, one that we hadn't felt in any of our past relationships - it felt like destiny had taken the reins as soon as we first locked eyes at our mutual friend's party.

At that time, Delilah was an actress struggling to find work, though it wasn't because of her looks. She was petite and thin, standing at 5'2" with barely 115 pounds on her lithe frame. Her chocolate colored hair flowed in long, wavy locks that reached just beneath her shoulders. She had deep, hazel eyes that gave her a soulful look, as though she had experienced some dark tragedy in her past. In reality, however, Delilah was remarkably easy-going, and that most disastrous event to ever befall her was arguably the time she cast as a woman with diarrhea in a Pepto-Bismol commercial. Still, at the time of our honeymoon, she would have gladly taken the role again as work had been especially scarce over the past few months. Luckily we managed to scrimp and save enough for a small wedding and a honeymoon vacation on a cruise ship.

"This is going to be such an awesome trip. I can't wait to just relax and unwind with my...wife," I said as we boarded the ship. I remember how strange, but exciting it was to say the words "my wife" for the first time.

"I feel the same...husband," Delilah said in a saccharine tone. She smiled broadly and gave me a wet kiss on the lips. She leaned in and whispered in my ear, "Let's promise to make the most of this trip, ok?"

"What did you have in mind?" I replied.

"Well, we could start by getting drunk and seeing where that takes us," she said with a wink.

"Sounds like a plan to me!"

After dinner that night, we spent the rest of the evening at the bar, pounding drinks like we were back in college. Even though I knew Delilah was a more experienced drinker than me, as she spent more time at social events, making connections for work, I couldn't help but be impressed by her tolerance especially given her small build. She wasn't exactly a "party girl", but she definitely excelled in holding her booze.

We stumbled back to our room, laughing and swaying as though the boat was rocking far more than it actually was. We collapsed on the bed and began to kiss passionately. I remember being embarrassed at how much my breath reeked of alcohol but Delilah didn't seem to mind. After a few minutes of making out, I heard Delilah's stomach rumble and she broke off her lips from mine.

"You know - you know what would make this really great...?" she said, her words slurring as she spoke. I stared blankly at her, having no earthly idea what she had in mind.

"A pizza! A big, huge, pizza with lots of pepperoni!" she added excitedly.

"You're...you're still hungry?" I replied, somewhat incredulous as we hadn't finished dinner that long before.

"I mean, I'm not starving, but I could eat." Delilah stumbled out of bed and staggered towards the cabin's telephone in preparation of placing the order. "After all, it's our honeymoon - let's live a little!"

When the pizza arrived a few minutes later, a still quite intoxicated Delilah sprang out of bed and snatched it out of the delivery boy's hand. Without a moment's hesitation, she returned to the bed and placed the pizza box on her lap, guarding it as though it were a prized possession. She grabbed a slice and began to chow down.

"Mmm, now that hits the spot," she sighed with satisfaction after taking the first bite.

"Mind if I join you?" I asked.

"I suppose...but try to stay out of my way...I'm suddenly rabenous," she slurred.

"...You mean 'ravenous'?" I corrected.

"I mean I'm starved!" Delilah shouted through a mouthful of pizza. We both laughed at her drunken mistake and continued to eat.

Time seemed to slow down as we talked and ate throughout the night. I can barely remember that conversation, however I'm sure it was as meandering and incomprehensible as any I've ever had. One thing that I'll never forget, however, was the way Delilah greedily devoured slice after slice of the extra-large pizza. I lost count after 3 slices but she had to have eaten at least 3 more. At one point, the conversation died down and Delilah laid down, staring out the portside window.

"Woah, somebody was hungry," I said, finding that the pizza box was now empty. I turned my attention to Delilah who was laying on her side, a half-eaten slice laid forgotten by her pillow. I cuddled up to her and placed my hand on her middle - it was the most swollen I had ever felt and soft gurgling noises emanated from it.

"Look at this full belly," I said as I gently rubbed her stomach.

At the time, I remember feeling anxious that I crossed a line and wishing that I could take back my words Because of what came next, however, I'm so glad that I didn't.

"I'm such a pig...ha ha..." Delilah chuckled sleepily. "At least now that I'm married I'm allowed to get fat, right...?"

"You can do whatever you want, babe," I whispered back.

"Good...I...love you..."

With her last bit of energy, Delilah turned around and kissed me softly. Then, she laid on her back with her eyes closed and a contented smile upon her face; she was asleep within seconds. I sat next to her, replaying what she had said to me and watching her bulging middle as it rose and fell slowly with each breath. At the time, it was the happiest I had ever seen Delilah.

Delilah's words echoed in my thoughts. Something about what she had said and how happy she looked in that moment stimulated visions of what our marriage might be like, with possibilities that I had never considered. In each of them Delilah was smiling that same contented smile. In each them Delilah was docile, without a care in the world. And in each of them Delilah was large - much, much larger.

Something in me changed after that - I just knew that somehow, either through Providence or my own hand, my newfound fantasy had to be realized. Delilah deserved all the comfort and luxury that I could possibly afford. She deserved to be spoiled, doted upon, and treated like royalty, but most of all, she deserved to be happy. Judging by the blissful look on her face as she slept, I knew she would find that happiness through food.

I was resolved. I vowed to domesticate Delilah. In doing so, I hoped that she would grant me the pleasure of what had occurred in my vision, namely, that I would be able to watch her slowly grow comfortable, self-indulgent, and fat under my care.