A foray into force-feeding

chapter 1: a domestic disturbance

The slamming of the front door and a long, heavy sigh indicated to Brett that his wife was home even before he saw her enter the kitchen. He smirked sympathetically; it sounded like she’d had another rough day at work.


As he heard the soft clacks of her heeled feet down their hallway, he was already mulling over to himself what he planned on saying to cheer her up once she entered the room. The footsteps got closer… and after another moment he turned to greet his wife in earnest.


Brett’s smirk curled into a genuine smile. Brittney looked fantastic, as she always did. She was still in her professional attire; her flowing brown hair was tied back into a ponytail that kept it neat and off of the collar of her pressed navy blue blazer, finally unbuttoned after a grueling day’s work at the accounting firm she’d been employed at for the past few years. The opened blazer revealed underneath a white button-up blouse, clinging tightly to her flat, toned stomach and tucked in to her matching blue pants, corduroys that were a hard-earned size 4. Even underneath Brittney’s work clothes it was easy to see she had a very athletic build; it was no genetic luck of the draw, rather, a meticulously maintained diet and exercise routine that kept her frame lithe and limber despite having officially left her twenties behind her a couple of years ago.


Finally entering the phase of life where most of the friends that she’d kept in touch with were softening up and plumping outward, Brett had to take notice that his wife had been one of the few who had failed to follow the trend, keeping the same svelte, sensual physique she’d had all throughout her early to late twenties. That along with her pretty facial features gave her an alluring appearance that would  have had the numerous men in her firm jumping over each other’s backs for a chance to ask her out on a date had it not been for the ring proudly displayed on her finger.

Hell, some men still even tried anyway.


Suffice it to say, Brittney was gorgeous in a way that made her not only desirable to men but enviable to other women. Brett was more than proud to know that she was his and his alone to come home to every night, or, in this case, vice versa, and often found himself expressing as much to his wife physically as often as verbally. He often mused to himself that had it not been for her being on the shorter side, only measuring up to about 5’6 even with her two-inch heels, she could have been a model in a different life, a comment that, when expressed vocally, always elicited a light chuckle and appreciative eye roll from his spouse. But not as of recently... If anything, Brittney often seemed as though she was in a flustered sort of mood as of late and hearing her husband's praise about her well-kept figure only seemed to incite a certain minor level of frustration, dissatisfaction even. As elegant and done up as she was, standing before Brett in the kitchen and fumbling for a moment as she halfheartedly kicked her heels off, she looked to be wearing the same level of dissatisfaction on her face at that very moment.


Indeed, the only thing missing from the picturesque presentation of beauty before him was Brittney’s usual bright, heart-melting smile. She’d been missing it for the past few days, in fact, weeks, now that Brett thought about it, and tonight was the night that he finally hoped to getting to the bottom of why.