Chapter 5

Matt's expression is priceless when he returns from his shower. He looks deliciously damp and relaxed and *soft*, having thrown on nothing but a pair of boxers. A towel still hangs around his shoulders, catching the water dripping form his hair.

He's probably trying to lure me towards bed without dinner. It might have worked if I didn't have a more important agenda, but I have put too much effort into tonight to let it go to waste.

"What's all this?" he asks suspiciously. He glances at the digital display on the wall clock as though checking he hasn't forgotten an important date.

It *will be* an important date, but not yet.

"I want to commemorate this occasion," I say, dusting my hands off and gesturing for him to take a seat.

"Why?"

I roll my eyes.

"Because this will be the start of a whole new dimension to our marriage," I say resolutely. "We're going to let bygones be bygones and start as we intend to move forward."

"With a party?" Matt asks, raising an eyebrow at the spread on the dining room table. Even as he says it, he approaches the table to pluck a piece of butter-roasted asparagus from the serving tray. "I'm not really dressed for company."

"Stop being difficult," I scold, pointing to his chair. "I made some of your favorites, so be grateful."

"Yes, ma'am," he says mockingly, though he does sit. I take the liberty of serving him myself, just so I can make sure his plate is piled high with some of everything.

He looks a little hesitant as I set it down before him, but doesn't complain. How could he possibly deny me when I've made every single one of his favorite dishes? It is a feast perfectly crafted to thwart Matt's willpower.

"Dig in," I say cheerfully, settling his plate in front of him and fill my own plate with more moderate portions.

Matt does. I watch out of the corner of my eye, barely tasting the food in leu of watching him take one bite, then another. He makes a sound of delight and soon he's eating with a gusto I wouldn't have thought he had in him with, well, everything else Lacey's stuffed into him today.

"This is delicious," he says, chewing a chunk of perfectly medium-rare steak and following it with a bite of mashed potatoes. I can't help but squirm a little in my chair at the thought of how heavy such rich food must feel in his belly right now. I'm already feeling satisfied by my own portion of the rich food and I haven't eaten since a light lunch at noon.

I smile at him and take another bite of seasoned asparagus with a drizzle of butter. Excellent, even by my own standards. By the time I'm half way through my plate, I'm already full, but my hand keeps bringing more to my own mouth as I watch Matt eat with a kind of gluttony that I've never witnessed in him before.

He's visibly full, chest heaving little with each breath, but he can't seem to help himself. He continues to eat past the point of being uncomfortable, too swept up in the pleasures of it to stop.

It is absolutely divine.

He finishes his plate and I immediately serve him more, taking another thick slab of steak and settling it on his plate.

"Sarah, I'm full," he says, the spell temporarily broken. He stifles a burp behind his hand and tries to ward off the plate as I slide it in front of him again.

"Don't say that," I chide, "steak doesn't refrigerate well, and I've seen you eat more in a sitting." It's true, but only on holidays and not when he was already clearly stuffed at the start of the meal.

"You made too much," he whines, "no two people could possibly eat all of this."

I shrug off his concern. "We can make leftovers of the macaroni salad and the vegetables, but you have to finish the steak and the mashed potatoes at least."

"Why don't you have seconds, then," he asks.

"I'm saving myself for desert," I say. "Good lord, I've never heard a man complain so much about good food."

Matt scoffs, but he's listing to the side, one elbow propped on the arm of his chair so he can keep his torso straight. I wish suddenly that our table was glass instead of mahogany so I could see just how much his belly is bowing out now. It must be a lot, considering his discomfort.

"Just a couple more bites," I encourage. I need to see just how far our plan has paid off so far. I want to know exactly how far Matt is willing to go now that he's grown more used to the feeling of a full belly and has a smorgasbord lying before him in offering.

He's so easily tempted. I've hardly said the words when he's picked up his fork again. Despite his complaints, he makes his way steadily through his plate.

Heat rushes through me, but I'll have to be patient to see the full effects.

Unbeknownst to Matt, there's a tiny video camera tucked away in one of the chandelier's many bronze flourishes, pointing directly down at Matt. A second watches him from the side beneath the table, sitting in the mouth of a frog ornament. I only hope the angle is as good as I'm imagining it will be. It's a little secret just between me and Lacey.

"Oh, and have another helping of the macaroni salad, too. I expect you to finish most of it, or I'll be eating it all week."

"Finish most of it?" Matt repeats, voice strained, though I think he means it to sound exasperated. "I'm going to be ill at this rate."

I look at him expectantly. "You can't possibly be that full," I say, rolling my eyes. "I know your habits. You don't even eat lunch. What have you eaten today? A green smoothie at work? A coffee?"

His face reddens and I feel an answering heat inside my own body, for a very different reason. He must be thinking of all the ways his habits have changed. A year ago, my statement would have been true. Now, though...

Oh, I know exactly how untrue that statement is now, and I want Matt to recognize it, too. I want him to feel himself losing control.

"What does that have to do with—"

I smile wickedly and lean over the table to scoop more of the macaroni salad onto his plate, holding his gaze the entire time.

"Evil woman," he mutters, though his eyes are blown wide with arousal again.

"Eat up," I say, "some meat on your bones would do you good."

He snorts, but does finish the pasta, trying to hide his labored breathing as he forces each bite down. I imagine the calories from all the mayo and carbs as the first step in filling the pooch of his little belly out into a thick, round potbelly.

"Fuck, Sarah," he says when he finally drops his fork to his plate, nothing but a lonely piece of asparagus left on it. "I'm going to pop if I eat any more. You've really outdone yourself, but I'm truly finished."

He leans back in his chair, letting out a series of small burps behind his fist before rubbing a big hand over the swell of his stomach. From this angle, I can only see the top, but it's bloated enough that it causes little dimples to appear at his ribcage, his stomach too swollen to be contained anymore.

I give him a slow, approving nod and reaching over to take the asparagus for myself. "Good," I say, pitching my tone low, "because I still have plans for tonight." I lick the stock of the vegetable suggestively before eating it in two bites.

Despite his state of fullness, I can see the answering desire in his eyes when I lean across the table to press a kiss to his lips.

"Maybe we can indulge in a little... *dessert*," I whisper against his mouth, then step away from the table to pull my t-shirt up just enough to flash some skin before sashaying to the archway. "You coming?"

Matt swallows, but somehow manages to hoist himself up and trail after me.



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**Author's Note**

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed the story, remember to give it a like and comment with what you want to see next.

This story updates on Mondays, so stay tuned to watch Sarah and Lacey fulfill Matt's full potential!