Twin villages

Warning : what follows is an erotic story, albeit unusual, for it explores and combines erotica fantasy with deeper reflections about life and love. 

Eincyg and Cyg

I was born in a small village

With many stone houses huddled together

And a tall mill playing the role of a watchtower

Three sides of the village were bathed by the ocean

And the remaining path was blocked by a hill

On the hill stood a little temple

Where matrimonies and funerals were chanted and celebrated

And from the other side of the hill lied another village

That resembled very much mine in appearance

With a beacon tower instead of a mill

The two villages could not function one without another

Since they shared one mill and one harbour and a single temple in between

To reinforce the ties between their peoples

Custom was to take your spouse from the opposite village

And that’s what happened to me as my parents deemed me old enough to get married

We both were eighteen year old when our nuptial were celebrated

We were given a house in my village, as my family was quite wealthy

And my wife was ordered not to bear a child before reaching adulthood at her twenty-first birthday

For the custom in our villages wishes the spouses to become friends and companions in life before to become lovers

At the time we were two skinny, scrawny kids who barely knew each other

We both had had very little experience with the other sex

And so we moved our large house as too shy ghosts who barely spoke with one another

As we slept in different bedrooms our only times together was during meals

We were served by my old maid and then we were left to ourselves

The table was always laden with as many courses as to nourish an entire family

But we both had a modest appetite and chatted quietly about the day, or about our previous life that we both regretted

A few days and weeks passed, uneventful, each day resembling the previous one

My calling was carving and I passed all my free time giving life to pieces of wood and stone

Her calling was drawing and whenever I crossed her through the house, the roof terrace or the small garden she was always carrying her sketchbook and her watercolours

Until one day at the end of a meal she asked me if she was at my taste

I replied I supposed so, as we both were quiet and dreamy and had artistic callings

She then asked if she attracted me physically

That was the question I feared the most because even though her face was lovely I didn’t feel attracted to her

Being honest by nature, that was my reply, adding that attraction would surely come in time

She said that she wasn’t attracted by me either, adding that it wasn’t a bad thing in itself, since it would make it easier to resist for three years

After saying that she served herself a portion of the rich, sweet cream that we usually barely touched

And then another one, and she served herself a plate full with chocolate biscuits

I watched her eating, surprised of her sudden appetite

She ate slowly with gracious movements, yet she seemed coldly determined to finish her plates

And when I thought she was finished she served herself a glass of milk and cut herself two pieces of cake

All the while she didn’t look into my eyes, focused on eating her second, sweet meal

She asked me suddenly if it attracted me to see her eating

I hadn’t realized until then I was turned on by her behaviour, and I blushed

She rose from her chair, and brought it closer to me, and placed her hand on my hardening manhood

Suddenly she wasn’t anymore the shy girl I thought she was, but a determined, lustful woman

And she drank her milk and ate her cake, one slow bite after another

She took my hand, and placed it on her hardened stomach that formed the slightest of bump because of all the food she was ingurgitating  

Through all my body I desired to see her eat more, and as though she sensed that too, she served herself another glass of milk and took a second bowl of sweet cream to accompany it with a piece of bread she crushed inside

I caressed and massaged her full stomach while she continued eating

Feeling my manhood on fire as it had never been in my entire life because of the combined action of her eating, and knowing caresses

Finally she was done eating, and she took my arm and invited me to her bedroom

There we laid down on the bed and she caressed me until I reached my height and orgasmed

Then I tried to caress her, but my hands were not as nimble as hers and she gently pushed them away and reached her orgasm on her own, while I caressed her belly

We parted and each went to sleep

I was excited yet shy to see her again the next afternoon for lunch

But she ate normally and did not mention what had happened the previous night

It’s only for dinner that she started gorging herself on food

She served herself three plates of rice instead of one

Then she took a lot of cheese with bread and milk

And she devoured all the plates of pastries and cookies, as sweets were her favourite

This time I came closer to her and caressed her without her invitation

And then we went to her bedroom

Each of the following days for around two months was similar to the one I’ve described

I realized the thought of her putting on weight excited me, and I looked for signs of a weight gain I couldn’t find

Even though I never saw her entirely nude, as she only denuded her womanhood when we went to her bedroom

One night her appetite was particularly good

She had asked a tray of fried potatoes and eggplants which she ate entirely

And she devoured two plates of pasta with cream

And she had scrambled eggs with pork meat and parsley

Then she attacked herself to sweet courses, the fried pastries with carob molasses, the rich thick cream, and several glasses of milk

She still ate elegantly, but slightly faster, as though her appetite had increased

And that night I noticed her frame was slightly more rounded

She was skinny still, but her breasts looked a little larger and softer

Her ass was not anymore flat and her belly protruded slightly

I caught her hips in the bedroom and kissed her, for the first time letting myself go to my attraction

She kissed me back and held my back, my ass

Her hands put all my body on fire

Her caresses reawakened sensations that I had thought dormant, that I didn’t even know existed

My belly touched her slightly rounded full belly, her tender breasts pressed on my flat chest, my manhood pushed against her womanhood, my hands were on her thighs, on her ass, on her hips, on her shoulders

We kissed and kissed and suddenly I started unclothing her, and she started unclothing me, and we removed the separation of fabric that wasn’t even a barrier so much our bodies had been already awakened

We laid down naked on the bed and I caressed with my manhood what I coined in my head as her minor grotto, as opposition to the main cave

For a long time I continued my rhythmic motion, my body pressed against hers

Until we climaxed and orgasmed at nearly the same time

And it was the most agreeable sensation I had ever felt

And as I lay still on the bed she wiped her womanhood and mine with a handkerchief

And she smiled slightly to me, a sad, strange smile

And I went away to sleep wondering what that smile meant

And our life continued to unravel

Daytime was still dedicated to the study of our respective callings

While orgies and pleasure stemmed from the depth of the night, when the walls stopped being the village’s ears and the doors were no longer eyes

Each night she gorged on food and as another month passed

I could see that all her eating had had an impact on her waistline

She was still slim, but her belly was becoming soft and outwardly incurved even when she was standing

And as she sat it formed small rolls covering the waistband of her shorts

Her ass was becoming more definite, and her breasts fuller

Now I couldn’t pass by her during the day without feeling a violent attraction

And it took all my efforts to quiet my body and return to my study

I wanted to melt in her softness, in her warmth, all the time

I wanted to press and press her body against mine

Each night I watched her with fascination as she ate more than she should

Chewing the food slowly, gracefully and yet determinedly

Afterwards we made half-sex as full-sex was prohibited until we both reached our adulthood

And sometimes she tried an old tight dress to highlight even more the curves of her body

Her small belly that I could have pressed and squeezed if it were empty, but hardened because of all the food she had ingurgitated

Her breasts coming forward, her ass backward

She was still one of the slimmest girls in the village, yet she was fuller than she used to be and it turned me on in a way I can hardly describe

Other areas of her body were changing such as her ribs that were slowly disappearing, except when she sucked her belly in

And her lower belly area above her womanhood which looked slightly more rounded

I pressed her against the wall with her dress

Her soft body almost into mine

And we kissed and I took her, unable to restrain myself

And she moaned with pleasure too


One day, she went to see her family in the other village

And when she came back I felt something about her state of mind had changed

The same night, my suspicions were confirmed, as she served herself tiny portions of food

I didn’t dare question her, and she just said that our little game must stop

But now that her body was softer, I felt all the time attracted to her

And I came toward her after dinner

I saw from her slight surprise she had not planned to see me

For a short moment she seemed to be deliberating with herself whether to give in or not

Then she surrendered to my kiss and we went to her room

And I was even more turned on by her empty, soft belly

I could not refrain myself from touching it, caressing it, squeezing it

And it turned her on too and her determination was half-lost to attraction

And that was to be our new routine for the following months

She slowly lost part of the weight she had accumulated

But her body conserved that general softness that I found so exquisite

And her belly remained slightly curved outward

One night we were in her room and I gave her a tray of creamy chocolates I had brought with me

And as I touched her belly and her thighs she surrendered and started eating

At first one or two chocolates, then she ate the whole tray

And she asked me urgently to bring her other things to eat

I ran downstairs to the dining room, and brought back all the leftovers

And she gorged on them, eating fast, with a sort of sensual rage

And I hold her and caressed her all the while

Then she came over me in the bed with her full distended belly and we made out

In the next days, her nightly gorging resumed and she ate and ate

In a month she had regained all the weight she had lost

She continued overeating each night

And a couple of weeks later I noticed her belly stuck forward slightly more

It was almost becoming a pot belly

And I pressed her against me and my craving to melt into her was even stronger and more violent

I kissed her with force and came over her, squeezing her full distended belly, feeling her flesh against mine, surrounding mine

And in no time we both reached our climax  

And in the next weeks she continued indulging in her self-pleasure

And her weight gain was becoming more and more evident

Her legs were becoming rounder and softer

Her ass larger, sticking out

Her breasts fuller, calling with even more force to my chest

Her belly rounder, protruding in a small bump having a life of its own

When she stood or walked I wanted to have all her body pressed against mine

When she sat I wanted to caress her belly, her hips

All her clothes were getting tight, highlighting all her curves

Every night I ate way too much, telling myself it would be the last time I’d do it.

When I had started doing it, I was skinny. As I touched my belly, my chest, I could feel all the bones underneath. The first times I had gorged on food, I felt entirely full to the point of throwing up, but I was so turned on the uncomfortable sensation disappeared in the background. My spouse caressed me and I pleasured myself in front of him, and then he left my room to sleep. My full belly awakened all the sensuality present in my body and even as he left I continued to feel turned on and masturbated several times, caressing my belly with one hand and my womanhood with the other hand. During my first hours of sleep I’d constantly feel turned on, sometimes waking up to reach my climax yet another time. In few moments of lucidity I wondered why on earth I felt such a tremendous pleasure related to such a mundane thing as eating and gorging myself. What I was doing was unhealthy. But it also offered me the most intense sensations I had ever felt. Perhaps by doing it from time to time I could remain healthy while enjoying myself.

But, oh God, my husband too is so attracted by my eating, and the sole thought of turning him on is enough to make me want eat all the food in the world.

And so this little game repeated itself every night. I ate and ate and ate, enjoying the taste of food, the sensation of fullness in my belly, imagining each bite would transform to fat. Back then, I still didn’t know how fat looked like, how it felt. When I laid down to sleep, I imagined all my clothes getting snug, and it turned me on.

For a while it seemed my athletic body was immune to weight gain despite all the food I ingurgitated. But when I stopped expecting it, I started to feel a softening of my belly, and of all the areas that used to be hard to the touch. I filled better all my clothes. And I felt how much it turned on my spouse, and how much his attraction turned me on. I breathed in and my belly touched the fabric of my clothes.

And many weeks passed and I gained a small belly and for the first time I had some ass and larger breasts. And I felt content, yet scared. All day long I was starting to feel turned on. I couldn’t focus on anything, but the thought of the night that would come. I wanted to skip days and already be at night, when I’d leave whatever activity I was half-heartedly doing, and eat and make out and self-pleasure and feel my body climax again and again. All day long I caressed discretely my small yet growing belly. I touched my hips, my ass, my breasts, to make sure they were real, they were truly widening. At few times, when I was back in my old self I felt scared, almost disgusted. After all if I became fat I wouldn’t be as active and fast as before. All my life I had enjoyed going to the rocky coastline, running on the fields of stones battered by the wind of the sea. All my life I had loved climbing the hill and visiting the temple and wandering in the forest and finding mushrooms. If I let myself go too much, I would lose all that, I would feel heavy all the time. But soon I’d look at my tiny belly that stuck out and all these thoughts vanished, and my main concern became speeding up time to be at dinner already.

There I ate and ate, especially sugar treats that I loved and that are so varied and delightful in country. And I saw the fascinated gaze of my spouse on me. And I felt fascinated too, by this food that disappeared from the table to enter my belly, that stuffed and bloated me. I’d then walk to the room, wobbling under the weight of all what I had eaten. I loved then to feel the skinny, meagre body of my husband against mine, while having this sensation that I could protect him, nurture him.

It went on until I visited my family and my younger siblings, especially my sister, laughed of my new weight, asking me jokingly it was my husband’s family food that was fattening me up. I wasn’t even chubby, just a bit rounder. But coming from me, the active, reckless girl, it was surprising. And I took their mockeries as a wakeup call, and I decided to stop.

But it was a battle against myself each night, and I continued to fantasize over my belly when I slept and when my husband caressed me. I still was as obsessed as before with the idea of eating and gaining weight. Until one night my husband tempted me to eat, and it was like a dam breaking and I surrendered to desire. And I ate and ate and ate and it turned me on and fulfilled me in a way my fantasies could not, always leaving me frustrated. I ate and realized how much I had missed the sensation.

And so I started overeating and gorging myself every night, feeling that my body was more responsive than before to my added intake, as chub started to pile up. I was almost becoming chubby and all day long I felt the tightness of my clothes and could think of nothing else, but the moment I would be eating again.

And my wife continued to gorge herself on food every night

And her small belly grew adding one tiny layer of fat after another

Sometimes now she ate in her bed too

She sat down with a tray on her knees, and she gulfed down one biscuit after another

One chocolate after another, eyeing me in a tempting way

And I caressed her belly that was softer, almost doughy

And I wandered my hand in her fat, touching it, pressing it, feeling it

It was fascinating, I couldn’t stop myself

When she rose to watch herself in the mirror

I liked to hold her from behind, to feel the increase of her girth

How much more space her body occupied

The volume of her ass against my belly, my manhood

The softness of her belly that melted in my caressing hands

The size of her breasts and how much softer they now were

She wasn’t fat, just slightly chubby, but it was such a difference respect to her bony body

And the sex evolved too, bettering with days

We didn’t dare to go in the main cave least she’d be pregnant

But we tried various positions, and her softer body was such a delight to hold

And she was sometimes enraged with her attraction, jumping on me, smashing me on the bed, putting all her weight on me, on my belly

And I felt all her softness into me and had to retain myself not to orgasm too fast

Other times I took charge and pressed her against a wall, or on the sheets of the bed

And all my existence passed waiting for the evening

Had I known getting married would change me in such a way

Me, the shy boy who barely dared to speak to my female relatives of the same age

Now behaving like a grown up man entirely at ease with his body, with my wife’s body

Strangely, we never spoke with my wife, I too busy to carve, she too busy to paint during the day

And at night, we just wanted to enjoy ourselves

And out of a silent agreement, we recognized that words would only put a barrier between us, make what seemed so natural awkward

During my moments of quietness I wondered if what we were doing, what I was doing, was correct

It was far from the ideals of beauty and truth we had learnt in the temple as kids

There, the belief was that all what was superfluous wasn’t beautiful, wasn’t truthful, and added fat in the case of my wife would have fallen under that definition for she didn’t need it to survive

But how could I care about justice when we both felt so incredibly turned on by her gorging, by her thickening body

I wasn’t forcing her after all, she wanted it as much as I did

Why would the great spirit put such a weird and potent thing in our body if it was not for exploring it and enjoying it

To learn restraint a corner of my mind sometimes whispered

But once you’re into it, it’s impossible to restrain yourself, and the more the better, I answered myself earnestly, helplessly

And then I saw my wife passing with a slightly slower gait than she used to, all her body dancing a slow dance in its new shape

Her ass and her hips moved, her belly stuck forward

Servants treated her affectionately, she was kind-hearted to them, and it wasn’t a bad thing to put on a bit of weight, it meant that their food was good, that their master felt comfortable enough

Settling in her future position of matron already, even if my wife wasn’t at all what you’d call a typical matron

And so our routine continued, and her weight gain pursued itself

She was almost chubby now and I looked with fascination at how she continued to gorge herself

Hardening and extending her soft belly like the high tide in the sea

And we made out sometimes twice every night, sometimes another time in the morning before breakfast

When her stomach was empty and soft and I could realize how much it had grown

I was living a heaven of sensations, things I’d have never imagined

But as with every happy thing that happens to us, especially when we think we don’t deserve it, I felt a shadow

One part of myself was worried about the future, about the shattering of our happy bubble

No, it cannot continue. It cannot continue. That game has gone too far. Too far. I can’t recognize myself anymore. What have I done? Is it a nightmare from which I am awaking up?

I feel disgusted by my own body. I’m short of breath when I walk. I’m unfocused all day long because I’m thinking of my nightly feeding and sex. I would like to start over. But how? I don’t even have the energy to lose all this weight I’ve accumulated.

This morning our silence was shattered and my confused fear started to become reality

My wife announced me she could not pursue what she was doing

That she must stop overeating, that we must stop our physical relationship for a while

Least she would immediately relapse as we would both be turned on by her accumulated weight

I listened to her almost as a scowled kid

For deep down inside of me I knew she was right

And yet how to turn my back to this promise of endless pleasure

How to tell myself that yesterday was the last time she fed herself and we made out in that way

Well, continuing to have sex with her would compensate

As her current body, or even her slightly slimmer body, was heavenly

But even this consolation, this joy, was being taken away from me

I listened to her without saying anything

And I went around my day more focused than the usual, as the nightly promise of pleasure was gone

At dinner I watched her eating small portions in silence

And when I went to my bedroom I felt my attraction for her swelling

And I masturbated in order to release the tension and be able to sleep

The next days passed in the same way

Whenever I looked at her body, I felt turned on by all her shapely swaying grace

But I refrained myself from looking too much at her body and instead when I addressed her I tried looking into her eyes

And for the first time I noticed how much her eyes were beautiful, how much her gaze was intense

How engrossed had I been previously not to notice all the beauty in her face

And I noticed the slight double chin that had started forming, and for the first time I wished too that she lost a few pounds

For her face was born to be angular, and it was strange to see it rounded up

I had a beautiful, clever, wife and I too often forgot that, only focusing on the extreme pleasure she gave me

Now that the wall of shyness had fallen, I dared to approach her in a friendly manner while she was drawing and painting

In our twin villages, callings are one of the most sacred things, and it’s considered rude and indiscreet to spy on your peers callings when they don’t invite you to do so

But she was my spouse and it was natural to try learning more about her, as none of us was very proficient with words

I was astounded to see her holding her pencil or her brush and giving life to the empty papers on which she drew

I came closer and watched her for a very long time, silently

Her hand danced on the paper drawing a mysterious landscape

And my gaze was lost in the meandering of paths that reached hills and hazy valleys and what appeared to be a distant realm

And I felt ashamed of what I had done to my poor, sweet wife

Instead of encouraging her to fulfil her dream, her highest calling, I had encouraged her idleness and depravity

And I swore to myself never to encourage her to overeat, to be strong and help her being strong

For there were more important things than sexual pleasure in life

But the same night after dinner, I felt turned on by her body in a way I had not before

And she noticed my bulging manhood and she came toward me and caressed me

And we made out swearing it was the last time before she lost the weight

The next dawn we did it again, and this feeling of melting in her rushed through all my limbs, in my brain, and I felt ecstatic

It wasn’t a bad thing to continue having sex as long as we didn’t focus on the weight gain or the belly area, our mutual understanding seemed to state

The same day my wife went for a long walk in the forest

And so did she in the days that followed

At night, sometimes I joined her in her bedroom

And I masturbated at other times

And we both seemed satisfied by the current agreement

Weeks passed and her healthier life immediately started reflecting on her body

As she kept her shapeliness while losing the extra fat she had on her belly

She was very disciplined in the way she ate, eating just to her hunger’s content and never more

And I was more or less disciplined into not tempting her to relapse

And I started being more and more interested by her paintings

Put together, they seemed to be telling a story

She drew both magical landscapes and characters

I knew they hid a strong meaning, but I still could not place my fingers on it

In a way, they seemed to complement or complete the faces I sculpted, the scenes I imagined

I became more engrossed in my calling

Sometimes I’d take my piece of wood if it wasn’t too heavy and go sculpt it in front of the ocean

Feeling the wind ruffling my hair, engulfing under my clothes

It inspired me, made me feel purified, to stay in the wide open air

Sometimes I took a walk with my wife and we could walk for hours never talking but admiring the same things in silence

When I saw her my heart started to beat faster, not because I felt attracted by her body, her shapes

But because I felt irresistibly attracted to her spirit, I felt that she was sensitive in the right way for me

We looked at my village and hers and admired their mirrored symmetry, their resemblance, and their uniqueness

We watched in wonder the lit beacon at night in her village and the mighty ships that came and went, silent gliders of the sea

We marveled in front of the twilight hill where our temple stood proudly and reassuringly

We never needed discussing about these things, I never needed praying her to go out with me, or to stop and watch a scenery

We were strangely synchronized, she seemed to be able to read my mind and my heart with ease

She didn’t show any surprise either, about this growing understanding between us

And for the first time one windy afternoon, as we were taking a walk beyond the temple in the oak and pine wood, I understood I was starting to fall in love with her

And all my body trembled, and my heart beat accelerated and my hands started to sweat

And I started looking at her in a way I had never before, desperately looking for her gaze, to lock my eyes into hers

For a while I just admired the profile of her face, and suddenly, she looked at me too

And we stopped walking, and for a very long moment we stood still, my eyes into hers

I saw there a depth I had not suspected existed

I saw there a part of my soul I had relinquished long ago

My heart was quiet and galloping at the same time, I felt heat spreading in my chest, in my head, in my arms, in my legs

We looked and looked at each others

When suddenly, a tremendous sense of fear invaded me, as though she was about to suck my soul away, and I looked elsewhere

I recognized my fear as such, but I could not master it or confront it

I didn’t look again at her eyes during all the rest of our walk, and I tried to focus my thoughts on everything else but her

A new fear had clouded and veiled the growing bond with my wife

I knew it was a deeply irrational fear, and yet it was impossible for me to confront it

And I started ignoring her, despite all the pain it brought to a part of my soul

I could feel how much it hurt her that I so suddenly ignore her in such a way, but I ignored her suffering too

It was so much suffering I could not bear

I focused on my calling, on carving wood and stone, but I was feeling less and less inspired

As though the veil that had been thrown between me and my spouse was also preventing me from seeing clearly the next faces and landscapes I wished to carve, to bring to light in hard form

At meals, I avoided her gaze, focusing on my food

And when she passed me, I looked anywhere but at her

I was very careful to avoid her piercing eyes where I could read interrogation without even seeing them, to give you a hint of her intensity

Way too much intensity for me

Why was I so afraid from her, I couldn’t determine

I couldn’t even think of that

Each time I tried to think about it, a haze rose behind my eyes and clouded my reflexion, until any thought had been drowned

And so I accepted the fear, revered it, without questioning it

I was finally happy with my life, blooming as each day passed. I was happy and comfortable with the person I was growing into. And I felt closer and closer to my spouse, to him. Not physically, as we were in the start. But intellectually, spiritually. Dimensions of my being I had forgotten for too long. How could I though, I wondered. I felt a renewed inspiration in my drawings and paintings, as a fresh vivid air laden in colourful pollen that was blowing in me, through me, through my hands, resulting in frantic creation. We didn’t speak much with him, there was no need of words. We just looked at one another longer and longer in the eyes. I could read his depth I had not suspected at the start, and I could almost drink it with my eyes. I felt a nice tingling in my chest when we looked at one another. And he was starting understanding my wishes without even me formulating them clearly to myself. And when we looked at one another for so long a time in the wood besides the temple, I felt all my skin itching, all my cells dancing and trembling, and I knew I had found the soul I had always dreamt of finding. And elation spread through my limbs and my mind, and for the first time since my childhood I felt happy. And suddenly he removed his eyes from mine, depriving me of his presence, his prescience, and this bubble of happiness burst, this elation was shattered.

I felt such a coldness invading my body, taking the place of the departed heat. I started trembling silently from the cold. I could not resolve myself to speak to him, to confront him. No, my tongue was tied. I could do nothing but watch and paint and draw and pray that whatever had come between us leave. My body was fine. I had not yet retrieved the bony girl I used to be, I was more shapely, but in a healthy way that did not at all hamper me when I strolled outside or when I was creating and painting. I would have been happy with myself except for the hole I was feeling more and more acutely in my heart. Before, this hole existed, but I had never been so aware of it. Our gaze embrace had filled and fulfilled me in a way I hadn’t imagined before. It was tender than the tenderest of kiss, more fulfilling than the strongest of orgasms. He had filled me with the promise of true love, and taken it back. And now I was feeling so acutely his lack. He strolled through the house as a ghost, avoiding my gaze, avoiding me. Why, why was he behaving in such a way?

Slowly, inspiration started leaving me, and for long moments I stared at my white paper unable to paint or draw. When I forced myself drawing, the results were disappointing. It felt as though I was not innovating, but reproducing slightly altered versions of my old drawings. The story I was trying to tell through them had been hampered. I was growing frustrated with this lack of inspiration, as losing the guiding of your calling, the potency of your calling, leaves you empty, lost on the meandering path of life. It can be disastrous. It was the second time it happened to me in my life, and the worse one. I needed to draw and paint to express my sadness, my self-questioning, and yet the great spirit had taken that away from me. I could not understand why. It felt unfair, unfair.

I finally resolved myself to question my spouse about his behaviour that seemed to have a toll on my calling in addition of my peace of heart. It was dinner time. I wanted to speak, but I could not eat and speak at the same time. And suddenly I started speaking to him through my eating. By eating and eating. He had finished eating, and I was still stuffing myself on the food. At first he kept his gaze to his empty plate, but later I noticed he could not resist looking at me. Not in the way he had looked at me with love and understanding and infinite patience, but in a hungry, ravenous, impatient way. It was still a victory to my empty heart, and I continued eating. He opened his mouth, perhaps to say something, but then he put his hand in front of it belatedly, as to disguise his manoeuvre in a yawn. He remained silent, and I continued eating, forgetting why I was doing it on the first hand and focusing on the sensations. I felt desire rise through all my body. It wasn’t the pure sensation I had felt during our gaze embrace, but it was equally potent. And then I was done eating, and he was over me, caressing me, kissing me, giving me yet another pastry to eat. And I ate. And we went to my bedroom. And we made out and my clitoris was in a heavenly fire at the same time he ejaculated over me. And I wiped him and me, and he left for his room, and I masturbated endlessly. All the night I spent in a sort of sex trance, waking up and masturbated again, satisfying my bottomless craving. And the next day I didn’t even try drawing or painting, I was too weak for that. And when I saw how hungrily he looked at me during lunch, I started overeating. And we made out again. And I slept till dinner. I gorged myself on the richest of foods, the most sugary ones, and he sat next to me, and kissed me between one bite and another. And I let entirely go of my sense of control. And he caressed my hardened belly after my orgy, and we made out. And the next days passed in a similar way. I was eating not to think of my emptiness, not to think of my sadness, not to think of my lack of inspiration. I killed any depressing and unwanted thought. I killed my unhappiness. I was turned on all day long. I didn’t think about the consequences. I didn’t want to think about them. I was happy after all, in my own way.

And slowly I witnessed her slipping back in her old patterns

And I accompanied her, holding her by the hand

I encouraged her to give in whenever she tried resisting

And she started overeating during the day too

And in a couple of weeks of this forceful diet she had regained all the weight she had lost

And she continued eating restlessly, shamelessly

And I spent my days turned on, orgasming several times

Something was missing in all that, I knew it

But to understand that I needed to confront my deepest fear

And I wasn’t yet ready for that

And so I preferred to admire her body

To watch her bulging belly that she stuffed all day long

To caress and kiss it, to hold it with my hands

To inspect her hips and her thighs and her ass and her breasts

I never looked at her face

After two other weeks her clothes stopped fitting altogether

She could not button her pants, her dress ripped

I brought her the meals to her room she did not leave

And she ate and ate, and we kissed and made out

She was getting truly chubby

I laid over her and felt the softness of her belly, the wideness of her girth

She was starting to develop love handles that I hold and pinched

I had abandoned any idea of carving, all my focus went to her

Sometimes she came over me and I felt all her increased weight by how she weighed on me

How her jiggling belly spread of my stomach and on my ribs

How her breasts gratified my chest

How rounded was becoming her ass

How her thighs were starting to touch one another

And I was blissful, but there was a deep shadow in that bliss

A shadow I refused to see

I was becoming such a fat pig. Lying on my bed all day long and eating and stuffing myself, gorging on all the food he brought me. Each day I swore to myself it was the last. Each day I started over, telling myself I wanted to enjoy this just another day. Avoid thinking. My curved were deepening and widening. I had never been and felt so chubby. I was incredibly turned on when having sex or masturbating. Even more in the mind than in the body. My mind liked all this fat, it liked the idea and act of putting on weight. And I could see it was the same with him. At least he was back toward me. But oh not in the way I wished. His gaze was absent, the presence behind his eyes foregone. He was an empty body, a corpse, enjoying the fattening of another inhabited body. Our souls, our soul, had disappeared to a remote, unknown place. All our creativity, all our ideals, all our love were gone.

And yet we were enjoying it immensely. Each pound I gained translated in more curves to grab, to warm and protect myself and him. Our days passed in the blissful monotony of attraction and orgasms, until my clitoris and his manhood started becoming painful because of the sheer strain with which they were used. Pain brought back a little bit of reflexion, soon drowned under the soothing effect of the essential oil we used to alleviate our bodily pains.

These seemed to be no way out of this infernal loop.

We didn’t want to get out of this loop of blissful, forgetful pleasure, truly.

And she continued to gain pound after pound

Prisoner of her room, prisoner of her pleasure and mine

Her belly formed several rolls with which we played

Her breasts sagged downward slightly because of their mass

All my body salivated in front of hers

Until the day in which brought by an unexplainable intuition I looked into her eyes

And there I was shocked to see all the sadness that had accumulated

All the tears she had been holding

Under the mask of fat she was wearing

And suddenly I could speak again with her soul, touch her with my gaze

And her body was just an empty shell, the house of her soul, her physical manifestation in this world

Yet another time I understood we had made the mistake of focusing on this external avatar

Instead of delving into our cores

Our interrelated cores

But the depth of her gaze still frightened me for there I read of a sadness that was also mine and I didn’t want to acknowledge

That same night I fed her but for the first time I felt disgusting, disgusted by myself and by what I had done to her body

I told myself that the body is like the sacred temple of the soul

And the primary nature of soul is movement, or that’s how I see it

The soul can dance and run and fly, it’s always swirling in motion

And what was I doing? Filling her temple with sack after sack of the heaviest stones

Preventing her from moving, preventing her from dancing with the wind, preventing her very soul from manifesting through her

Her soul, a soul of motion, a soul of grace

Even her drawing and painting had been a dance of colours

Oh, how did I do that to her, how did that to her?

I restlessly wondered while she ate and ate

I was starting to feel a thick nausea paralyzing my body

How could I do that to the woman I so loved, to the soul that was the other half of my own?

Out of fear

Out of fear?

Yes, out of fear

What fear?

The fear of truly losing myself within her, the fear of seeing my most hidden depth in her eyes, the fear of her judgement

And I preferred to cloud of that through a thick mist of bodily bliss

A superficial bliss that did not bring any real nourishment to my soul

One that slowly numbed my body and my feelings

As all these reflexions were stemming in my mind

I saw her starting to tremble, her face yellowish

And she threw up, on herself, on me, on the sheets of the bed, on the floor

Her vomit stank and told of all my disgust, of hers

I helped her clean herself, shower

Helped her change into clean night clothes

And held her to my room where I laid her down on the bed

And I slept on a mattress on the floor

I slept with a tight knot in my throat, in my stomach

Stupefied of all the damage that had been done in such a short time

Stupefied of how easily I had lied to myself

I didn’t sleep much that night, nor the following ones

Again, she had stopped overeating, but she didn’t go out without my encouragement

She seemed to have lost the taste of living, of eating, of anything

Her body was chubby, her face was swelled

And for the first time I felt disgusted by all this fat

I didn’t want to touch her

I focused on my inner thoughts

On trying to retrieve my inspiration for carving

On trying to resolve all the issues that had been gnawing at my heart

I felt disgusted by my body as much as he was disgusted. Was it my disgust or his? I felt a thick haze of apathy surrounding me. Was it the apathy of all the unneeded food I had ingurgitated for a month? That of the stale air I had been breathing? Or that of my sleeping soul?

He had forcefully stopped the stuffing sessions, and I had lost all my motivation. The only thing that was still keeping me alive day after day was this eating and enjoying my body. I feel no inclination to paint or draw and I have a headache at the sole thought of forcing myself. I lay on my bed, barely eating, in a state of sadness and half-awakedness all day long, unless when he comes toward me to force me to go out and walk with him. I feel all the waddling hugeness of my body that I started hating. It’s uncomfortable to walk. I feel the interrogating gaze of people in the street. I avoid them. I don’t feel well enough to speak to anyone.

And one night I supplicate him to bring back the trays of food. But he refuses. I try to go bring them myself, find oblivion in eating, but he bars me the way. Why, why? Give me this consolation at least, I want to shout at him. I change strategy and I throw myself at his arms. He surrounds me with his. I feel his disgust, or mine. I feel my attraction or his, that chases away the disgust. We stay still for a while, feeling the attraction without living it. Then he parts from me, holds my hands and look into my eyes with his boring gaze. I have a reflex to look elsewhere, but I resist it. This is a time of answers to our questioning. He stares into my eyes and suddenly his gaze becomes an embrace, the embrace he cannot give me with his body, yet.

I look into her eyes, I lose myself into them and suddenly I see another scene

I see a different her from now, her face is thin, her features are perfectly harmonious and her expression is beautiful

I stand close to her, our two bodies are identical in size, except that she is a woman and I am a man

And we look at a series of paintings, paintings that we have drawn together

And we look at several carvings, carvings that we have carved together

And I feel a tremendous love for her, and a joy swelling through me

And suddenly I am back in front of her, my vision as clear as though it was real

She is chubby and unhappy, and yet I can see all the beauty beneath her sagged eyes

I can feel tears swelling into my eyes

And I take a step forward toward her

And she a step forward toward me

And I embrace her

And she embraces me

The disgust is gone. The attraction is gone. Love remains and grows like a budding plant. Our embrace is perfect. All the layer of mental grease I have accumulated melts away. I feel free and young and alive again. My heart swells with a feeling of liberation. And suddenly I feel the intense inspiration to be drawing and painting again. Creativity rushes through all my being, rekindling the fire that had been ever burning in the past, the wind that had blown through my sails and made me journey on the path of my life. I feel so much keenness to create I sense I could almost carve too.

Weeks, months, one year have passed

As we have been slowly growing into our true selves

I’ve learnt to block my unwanted thoughts

Each time I start imagining the chubby body of my wife

Each time I feel the craving to masturbate

Each time I start looking at her as an object to arouse and satisfy my desire

There’s no other choice than blocking these thoughts if I don’t want to relapse

And as time passed these ideas started to tickle my mind less and less frequently

Instead I focused on giving life to all my inspirations

And I learnt to always contemplate the soul dwelling in her body

Instead of the external shell that is only a reflection of her feelings and her state of mind

And without even trying she had steadily lost all the weight she had gained, returning to her old, slender self

I did not try to follow her progress all the while

I avoided looking at her body

For I’d have been turned on in the wrong fashion

And she focused too on progressing into her calling, drawing and painting at all hours of the day

And we took the habit of going out for long daily walks

Each of us bringing his and her material to create

And we’d sit somewhere on a desert beach, sheltered by a tree when the sun is high

And we’d rest somewhere on a fallen trunk in a wood

And we’d silently work side by side

She draws and I carve and when we both are finished we contemplate the two creations that in a way form a unity, complement each other to tell a story, to describe a feeling, a thought

And each time I am awed by these moments of deep communion, these moments when I feel in perfect balance with the dream of my soul

And I thank her silently for having stepped into my life, I thank myself silently for having have the strength and the wisdom to resist my lowest cravings

I thank even these cravings that have brought me closer to her and made me realize how precious she was for me, how much I loved her

Each time I look into her eyes I feel entirely engrossed and my heart swelling with a warm joy and my eyes filling with tears, tears of happiness

And one day without even knowing we realize that we both have reached the adult age

And that day the last barrier, the last veil is removed from between us

And I look into her eyes and she looks into mine and we embrace each others

And even as I hug her body and stop looking at her eyes, I continue seeing her gaze

And it is not anymore her body that I am embracing but her soul

And our two bodies, these two aisles of the same temple meld into one another and we remain in that position for hours and hours that feel like a moment

And I feel entirely at peace and all my body is suffused in love

And I feel a warmth like I have never felt entering my limbs

All my body is quiet as a quiet sea, it forms a unity with the soul inhabiting it

And the warmth melts away all the blockages that remain

And I feel that my body and my mind are healing

Healing of the damages of fear and time

They are healing, healed, my body and hers

And I know that my trials have ended, that afterwards the constant inner struggle I had lived will end

For I have witnessed all the potency of true love for the first time

I have felt it through every atom of my being

This cleansing love

And the material world won’t ever feel the same again

And I am in his arms, in my own arms. And I feel love flowing through me, surrounding me. And I feel the deepest happiness I have ever felt. I feel that the dearest and most secret dream of my lives is fulfilling itself. I never truly knew from where this emptiness came, why I had such a craving to be completed. But now I understand, oh I understand.

About Erik Vincenti Zakhia

Dear all, I will share with you many of my poems, short stories, drawings and paintings telling of my journey of self-discovery and my reflections about life, love, art, spirituality, sexuality, kundalini rise, and twin flames. They all fall within the realm of Hazen. May you have an inspiring visit!

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