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A Time Alone

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Everything was absolutely perfect.

Well, aside from the fact that Urabe was alone, but in other ways, that could make it even better . After all, what was better than teasing her husband from afar than when he was in the room with her, able to act on impulse? Alone, Urabe could indulge in whatever she wanted, and be even more of a tease than usual.

Since high school, she had really let herself go, gaining well over a fifty pounds since her days as an athletic teen. Now she was older, more mature, thick, and dangerous, ready to devour the snacks before her--of course, not without showing her Tsubaki. He loved the changes in their lives--her personal life, specifically.

Her goal was one hundred.

Fifty to go.

And these treats sure weren’t gonna eat themselves.

It was easiest to start slow for a day of feasting, and peppermint bark was her go-to for this. It was light, airy, and homemade, and perfect for a few bites as she relaxed on the couch, ready for a cheesy Christmas movie marathon and a sweet feast.

For good measure, she snapped Tsubaki a selfie and messaged him, “Guess what I’m doing today.”

Peppermint bark became too light for her tastes very quickly, as she wanted something to feel like a real snack, not just something for her to sink her teeth into and sweeten her saliva. She needed something sweet, but with some protein.

Peanut butter balls.

A nice hard coating of dark chocolate on the outside with rich, creamy peanut butter on the inside felt perfect. Wiping her mouth, she went for a handful.

They were a bit larger than she anticipated, especially being equally homemade (though not by her; the culinary delight was crafted by a coworker of Tsubaki’s and gifted to her as a contribution to her weight gain project), but they satisfied the itch that the peppermint bark left behind.

As she chewed on her last one, she got a response from Tsubaki himself: “Are you eating without me?”

“What’s the fun if there’s no tease?” she taunted back. “You can dream of massaging my tummy while you’re at work. I love it when you have to work while distracted.”

The message was shown as seen , but not replied to. She grinned to herself, satisfied as his eternal distraction. But then, with only slight dismay, she realized that she was snackless.


That was the answer.

She paused her movie--though Christmas movies were often thoughtless, with little plot aside from some reason to “save Christmas”--and went on a donut hunt, stumbling a bit to get out of the couch. It was almost as though just from a few festive sweets that she was already heavier, but she pushed the thought out of her mind.

Just wishful thinking.

She figured two would hold her over until lunch--she already felt herself drool over the honey-baked ham, which she didn’t get to know until she and Tsubaki moved to the States for work--and sat back down, one in each hand. One was long and candy-cane-striped, but with a bite, she deduced that it was indeed much more delicious than a measly candy cane. It did have a minty flavor, as though the baker had melted down candy canes--or maybe just the mint--for part of the frosting, and the doughy texture itself had some give to it, sinking down when she bit down.

It was pure heaven in a pastry.

The second was filled with jelly--thankfully seedless, because that would ruin the entire experience. Soft on the outside, squishy on the inside, filled with the sweet delights of pure strawberry jelly, topped with a gentle powdered sugar, a light dust matching the snow outside.

She decided with a bit of disappointment that she was full, then, and settled deeper into the sofa, getting lost in the winter wonderland of the screen, her hands resting on her growing tummy.

Half awake and already starting to drool a bit, she decided to snap another picture for Tsubaki. She lifted up her shirt to show the softness of her tummy, her now-gentle hands upon it, and didn’t bother wiping up the drool, knowing he’d love it.

“Food coma,” she said. “Don’t you wish you could cuddle all of this?”

“Fuck,” came the immediate response.

But Urabe was far too tired to respond. With a satisfied sigh and a toss of her phone, she dozed off into her sugary sleep.

With the credits blaring on her cheesy Christmas movie, Urabe awakened, rubbing her eyes. She felt only slightly sick from all of the sugar, but what else could solve this but a heaping load of protein?

After all, food was all about balance, taste-wise and sensation-wise.

The honey-glazed ham she dished up for herself wasn’t as much as she would’ve liked; she had already slayed through half of it yesterday, when Tsubaki brought it home and baked it, but it was enough to tame the confections of before. Four slices and a few buttered rolls on her plate later, she decided to find something else to watch.

TV was always so dull this time of year, nothing to excite Urabe. She figured that, when there was the least sunlight, there’d be more wild shows, horror or some sort of thriller, instead of these family-friendly ones. Just as much as she liked to keep Tsubaki guessing, she liked things to keep her guessing as well.

Somehow, the ham was even better reheated than before. Heating it up with the bread added a gentle softness to the entire thing, the butter she melted on the rolls spreading to the rest of her plate, adding an extra sultry flavor, the extra twist of more calories. The butter on the honey was exquisite in ways she wasn’t sure how to describe, her face changing from its regular aloofness to a quiet relaxation.

Just what she needed.

She shot a text to Tsubaki, saying she ate all of the ham and it was better the second time around, then settled on a remake of a movie she used to like.

Her phone buzzed. “Send a picture. I wanna see you.”

Even after all these years, showing too much was still a bit embarrassing, yet she revealed her classic white panties, now stretched and ripped through her weight gain, and her full tummy for the camera. “Just for you,” she replied.

“On my way home,” came the immediate reply.

“So soon? Don’t you have work to do?”

“Work can wait.”

Though Tsubaki’s work could wait, Urabe still resigned to her fate of waiting for her husband. She knew he would like to feel today’s efforts, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want his hands on her, massaging all the food she ingested today, all the softness she had created just for him.

But waiting quickly became boring, and boredom was always resolved with treats.

Maybe a few more peanut butter balls, and she’d be ready.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long. The door swung open with haste, without warning, making Urabe jump a little, her tummy jiggling with the impact of her own body.

Good. Finally, some excitement. Before Tsubaki could see her, she made sure she had her scissors handy, just in case it was needed. They often were, after all, especially after her personal project began. But mostly for memories’ sake.

“Hey,” Tsubaki said, shockingly gentle as he found her in the living room.

She hiked up her knees. She hadn’t worn pants or a skirt all day, and even though this was her husband, she suddenly felt rather vulnerable. All she wore before her office-attired husband was a black sweater, leaving her tummy on full display regardless of where she put her knees, her thigh highs, and her trademark panties.

“Hi,” she replied.

“Don’t be shy. Lemme feel.”

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Urabe lowered her knees, her tummy rippling slightly into an entire jiggle when her legs relaxed. Tsubaki raised his hands to her from her thighs up slowly, then took the tummy with both hands, starting with some gentle pets. Then he squeezed.

“That...feels really nice, honestly,” Urabe murmured, relaxing into the touch.

His palms began to embrace the skin moreso in a full massage, kneading his wife like dough, emphasizing the results of today’s feasting efforts. The sensation of the pure adoration transferring through his hands made Urabe shiver, which would’ve made her jiggle more had he not been holding her. She decided to lean into him just a little while longer, though maybe she wasn’t as good at receiving the teasing as she was at delivering it. His hands on her made her just crave more, more, a feeding that food couldn’t provide.

A feeding his hands could provide, however…

A feast of feeling and feeling itself.

No, she had enough.

As he kneaded and massaged, Urabe grabbed her trusty scissors. “I think you’ve had enough fun,” she said, her voice cooly even, despite her pulsing arousal.

And she let the blades do their usual magic, the snip making an oddly sharp sound despite the softness of the circumstances.

“It’s time.”