I can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment every time I see you stepping on that scale, the numbers refusing to climb the way I want them to. My own body has swollen with each indulgent bite, but you, my love, are still lagging behind. It’s time for a little motivation—I’ve decided that until you start packing on the pounds the way I need you to, you’ll be locked up tight, your pleasure entirely in my hands. You’ll only get it back once you’re properly fattened up, and those numbers start matching my expectations.