Both, Stuffing, MWG. A husband's fantasy is revealed, but his wife doesn't think it will ever become a reality. When things start getting too "real" for her, she devises a plan of her own. Written from both POV's.
Control & Frustration
By snr6424
Alan
"No freaking way," she proclaimed, her bright blue eyes gleaming with confidence. "Not in a million years."
I had just revealed to Laura, my wife of four years, that I was a feeder. I admitted to her that I received a sexual thrill from feeding and fattening a woman. I was actually rather surprised that I had successfully kept that part of me a secret from Laura for the seven years we'd known each other. Lately, though, she had been pestering me to reveal more of my sexual fantasies. I had finally relented, sharing with her my desire to feed and fatten.
Her response had first been laughter and disbelief, unwilling to believe that I was serious. My face turned warm and eventually her laughter died. After making sure I was actually serious, Laura seemed almost lost for words. She looked at me for a while with an odd expression, while I mentally berated myself for breaking down and sharing this secret. Finally, after several excruciatingly long minutes, she smiled and told me that she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to indulge that particular fantasy. She laughed as she claimed that her will power kept her from gaining weight and claimed that being fed "really didn't appeal to her at all".
I wasn't sure what motivated me to do so, but I somewhat cheekily replied that if we kept enough junk food around she'd surely put on a few pounds. Despite my embarrassment over the whole thing, I even teased her a bit that maybe her will power only seemed strong because she wasn't surrounded by temptation.
"No way," Laura repeated, her full lips curling into a smirk. "I'm 125 pounds, the perfect weight at 5'7", and I've worked way too damn hard to keep it that way. There's no way a little extra junk food around the house would cause my self-control to crumble. Not a chance."
"Care to test that out?" I asked her, half joking.
"Sure, do your worst."
"You mean that? Really?"
"Uh-huh, just don't get too disappointed when we have to toss out all the junk food 'cause it's past the expiration date."
I was very intrigued. It was true that Laura had an almost superhuman ability to say no to dessert at a restaurant or avoid the snack table at a party. However, I had a sneaking suspicion that part of the reason she exerted such stringent self-control was a fear that once she gave in a little, she wouldn't be able to stop. I just had to find that one chink in her armor, I was almost positive it existed. Worse comes to worst, I waste a little money on junk food that no one eats.
Now, one may say that this is the kind of underhanded behavior that causes serious issues in a relationship, but at this point I really thought it was all in fun. I figured at the very least I'd get to act out a little of my fantasy in trying to persuade Laura to indulge. I had no idea where it would all lead.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
For the next few weeks, it looked like Laura would be proved correct. I set up bowls of candy around the house, stocked the cupboards with snack cakes and chips, and always had a gallon or two of ice cream in the freezer.
"Awww . . . such a shame all that has to go to waste," Laura said with a fake pout as I threw away a full half-gallon container of mint chip ice cream.
She tossed her shoulder length blonde hair as she sauntered out of the kitchen, surely feeling good about herself for proving me wrong. Even though I preferred heavier women, I still admired the way her size 6 jeans hugged her firm, round ass. I wasn't actually all that disappointed by her continued resistance, I knew it was a long-shot and had kept my expectations low.
I figured maybe I'd give it a few more weeks before letting it fizzle out. It was at least fun for fantasy purposes, some nights I'd dream that we'd be sitting together on the couch and all of a sudden Laura would jump up and bolt into the kitchen. I'd follow her in there to find her at a table filled with all the goodies I bought, stuffing her face like there was no tomorrow. I knew it wasn't likely to actually happen, but that really was okay with me. We had a good marriage built on much more than satisfying a fetish, and I'd love her whether she was 125 or 325.
Laura
I could only shake my head and smile when Alan finally revealed his deepest sexual fantasy. I had been asking him for a while, and the longer he held out the more it made me think it was something really extreme. In the grand scheme of things, him being a chubby chaser was nothing too wild. Although the thought of being fed until I was really stuffed was pretty weird. Oh well, I just hoped that I hadn't disappointed him too much when I told him it would never happen. He did seem pretty happy when I told him he could buy lots of junk food to try and tempt me.
What Alan didn't know, and what I made sure was buried deep in my past, was the fact that I was a rather chubby teenager. I had a nearly insatiable sweet tooth and lacked the self-control to say no to chocolate even if I was already stuffed full of fattening treats. Once I figured out that no guy ever wanted to be with a heifer, I managed to sum up enough will power to start weeding sweets out of my diet. When I left for college I was svelte and toned thanks to a strict diet and lots of time at the gym. I even managed to avoid the dreaded "freshman 15", watching as my roommates ballooned from dorm food, late night pizza, and tons of beer.
I did still have one tiny little weakness, one insistent little craving that simply would not give up and die.
Cheesecake.
Luscious, creamy, smooth, indulgent cheesecake. I liked it plain, swirled with chocolate or caramel, topped with fruit, or just about any way it could be made. Once, when Alan was making one of his frequent trips out of town for work, I had gone a little crazy and bought an entire cheesecake. I polished off the entire thing in only three days, even though I was feeling ill by the end of it. I lived on salad and water for the next two weeks, partially to ensure that the cheesecake didn't manifest in a pair of gooey love handles, and partially to punish myself for losing control.
But that wouldn't happen this time. I was too strong, too focused, too determined to beat the temptation. Or so I hoped.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Damn that man! Just when I thought he was close to giving up this crazy fantasy of his, he goes and brings home an entire New York style cheesecake. I was good the first night, but the second night Alan went out to run errands and I could hear it calling to me. I managed to hold out for all of ten minutes before skulking into the kitchen, my hands trembling as I lifted the box out of the fridge.
I'm ashamed to admit that I didn't even bother cutting out a slice of the cheesecake, I simply grabbed a fork and attacked. I moaned out loud as the first bite hit my eager tongue, the creamy goodness sliding down my throat. In some sort of dream-like state, I ate bite after bite. I probably would have gorged until I was sick, but I was jolted out of my trance when I heard the garage door open. I scrambled from the table in a panic, desperately needing an idea on how to hide my indulgence.
I stared at the cake on the counter, nearly a fifth of it reduced to crumbs. Suddenly, I was struck with inspiration . . .
Alan
I had just walked in the door from running some errands when I heard a small crash coming from the kitchen, followed by Laura exclaiming "Oh no!". I dropped my bag and hurried in, worried that she may have dropped something on her foot. The sight that greeted me was Laura standing by the fridge with a carton of soy milk in her hand, a sheepish look on her face, and a smashed cheesecake spread out by her feet.
"Oh babe, I'm so sorry," she said. "I was getting my milk here and accidentally knocked over the cheesecake. I guess the good news is that no one was eating it anyway, right?"
"Don't worry about it," I reassured her. "Let's get it cleaned up. And plus, I can always pick up another one."
"No!" Laura protested. "I mean, um . . . no need for that, right? Those aren't cheap, and it'll just get tossed anyway."
I was a little taken aback by her forceful response. It almost made me wonder if . . .
"Hey, you got a little cheesecake on your toes," I pointed out. "Why don't you get cleaned up and I'll take care of this here."
"Oh, okay," she replied, looking down at her feet. "Thanks, hun. And sorry again for making a mess."
"Don't worry about it," I smiled.
I waited until she was gone and quickly scooped up the cheesecake into the cardboard box. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure I wasn't caught, I took out the kitchen scale and placed the remains of the cheesecake on it. I looked on the box to find the weight of the cheesecake, then looked at the reading on the scale. After double and triple checking the numbers I put the scale away and placed the box in the trash. Then and only then I allowed a grin to spread across my face. That little minx had eaten some of the cheesecake, and she thought that she could hide it by dumping the rest on the floor.
It was then I believed for the first time that my trim little wife may have a much plumper future ahead of her. It was a pivotal moment in the events that would follow. I could have simply laughed it off or simply used it as fuel for my fantasies. Instead, however, I decided to take actual action based on what I had learned.
I quickly came up with a three-pronged attack against her self-control. First I would buy another cheesecake. Second, I would step it up in other areas, making sure plenty of sweet, salty, or greasy foods were always available. Third, I would make sure that the food would be displayed in such a way that I clearly couldn't track whether it was being eaten. Ice cream was out, but cookie jars filled with homemade baked goods were a good bet. I'd have to be very strategic, not just in what I bought but how it was displayed.
I barely managed to stop myself from rubbing my hands together and cackling like a cheesy movie supervillain. I didn't even pause to examine my motivations, it was just full speed ahead on the fattening train.
Laura
This was not good, not good at all. I had successfully disposed of one cheesecake, but Alan just replaced it with another. And this one was pre-sliced. I told myself that I couldn't eat a piece because then Alan would know, but then a horribly ingenious idea came to mind one night. If I ate just a tiny sliver of each slice, I could simply push them all together a little tighter and no one would ever know. I turned into a cheesecake fiend, sneaking a bite here and there, even waking up a few times in the middle of the night and slinking down to the kitchen for "just a taste".
Now I was frantically brushing my teeth while Alan was watching TV downstairs. He had spent the past weekend baking dozens of homemade chocolate chip cookies, and the smell had driven me practically insane. To my chagrin, I lacked the will power to resist snagging one as soon as he left the kitchen for a few minutes. Since they were all kept in a cookie jar, I didn't think he'd notice one missing. Of course, over the past few days one had turned into nearly a dozen and I was hoping that brushing my teeth would get rid of my "cookie breath".
It seemed that one furtive indulgence had opened the floodgates. I had even caught myself mindlessly grabbing a handful of chocolates from one of the many dishes Alan had spread throughout the house. I knew I had to stop, but I was like a recovering junk food junkie who kept telling myself "I can quit whenever I want" while sneaking just one more cookie.
The next morning Alan had to leave for a five day trip out of town for work, not coming back until Tuesday. He was a software designer who usually worked as a consultant, and there was a big convention in Atlanta that offered the opportunity for him to drum up some new business. I often envied his ability to work from home while I put in a good 50 hours or so each week in an office environment. Working in HR at a local advertising firm was sometimes stressful, but still quite rewarding.
That evening I came home from work (stopping at the gym like usual). I planned to have a very light dinner and then go to a movie with my friend Patty, I knew I had to stay out of the house to avoid temptation. Unfortunately, two back-to-back phone calls ruined that.
"I'm so sorry," Patty said. "It's just that Dan surprised me with reservations at that nice new restaurant downtown for an early anniversary present. Maybe we can do a movie tomorrow?"
"That's fine," I said. "We'll do it some other time."
Five minutes after I hung up with Patty, Alan called from Atlanta. After he told me about his flight and we said how much we'd miss each other, he dropped this bomb on me -
"Oh yeah, you may as well toss the cheesecake, I think it's near the expiration date. Throw away the cookies too, I'm sure they'll be stale soon. I have to admit, you were right about resisting all those sweets. It's a good thing I like to bake for the fun of it, or else I might give up soon."
I licked my lips unconsciously. "Uh-huh, sure I can get rid of those. Don't worry about it."
A few minutes later our conversation ended and I walked into the kitchen as if in a trance. I grabbed a fork and a glass, then took out the gallon of whole milk (where did that come from?). I placed the cheesecake and cookies on the table and sat down, clutching the fork in one hand.
After that, things got a little blurry. The next thing I remembered clearly was sitting on the couch Sunday night, wearing only a pair of panties and an old t-shirt. The coffee table was covered with a pizza box, two empty bags of chips and an empty cookie jar. I looked down, trying to ignore the many crumbs that adorned my chest and lap. My normally flat stomach bulged out obscenely, a pale orb that obscured my view of my panties. I pulled up my t-shirt so it was fully revealed, gently pressing against my bloated middle. The skin was stretched tight, my overstuffed tummy was quite hard to the touch.
I was awash with feelings of shame and self-loathing. My vaunted self-control had cracked and crumbled, much like the dozens of cookies that I had gorged upon. My throbbing belly churned and gurgled as it struggled to cope with my gluttony. I groaned out loud as I pushed myself forward and slowly rose to my feet. After a couple belches that would make a truck driver proud, I cleaned up the worst of the mess and waddled to bed. By the time Alan got back Tuesday night I had eaten just about every pastry and piece of candy in the house, buying some on my own to replace what was eaten. My stomach was so puffy from the overindulgence that I had struggled to find a skirt that still fit.
"So good to be home," Alan said as he walked in the door and greeted me with a kiss.
I hoped he couldn't taste salt on my lips, I had stopped at a fast food restaurant instead of the gym on my way home that day. I hoped that I would be able to control myself a little better now that he was around again.
"I'm so happy you're back," I told him. "I'm so lonely when you're gone."
Control & Frustration
By snr6424
Alan
"No freaking way," she proclaimed, her bright blue eyes gleaming with confidence. "Not in a million years."
I had just revealed to Laura, my wife of four years, that I was a feeder. I admitted to her that I received a sexual thrill from feeding and fattening a woman. I was actually rather surprised that I had successfully kept that part of me a secret from Laura for the seven years we'd known each other. Lately, though, she had been pestering me to reveal more of my sexual fantasies. I had finally relented, sharing with her my desire to feed and fatten.
Her response had first been laughter and disbelief, unwilling to believe that I was serious. My face turned warm and eventually her laughter died. After making sure I was actually serious, Laura seemed almost lost for words. She looked at me for a while with an odd expression, while I mentally berated myself for breaking down and sharing this secret. Finally, after several excruciatingly long minutes, she smiled and told me that she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to indulge that particular fantasy. She laughed as she claimed that her will power kept her from gaining weight and claimed that being fed "really didn't appeal to her at all".
I wasn't sure what motivated me to do so, but I somewhat cheekily replied that if we kept enough junk food around she'd surely put on a few pounds. Despite my embarrassment over the whole thing, I even teased her a bit that maybe her will power only seemed strong because she wasn't surrounded by temptation.
"No way," Laura repeated, her full lips curling into a smirk. "I'm 125 pounds, the perfect weight at 5'7", and I've worked way too damn hard to keep it that way. There's no way a little extra junk food around the house would cause my self-control to crumble. Not a chance."
"Care to test that out?" I asked her, half joking.
"Sure, do your worst."
"You mean that? Really?"
"Uh-huh, just don't get too disappointed when we have to toss out all the junk food 'cause it's past the expiration date."
I was very intrigued. It was true that Laura had an almost superhuman ability to say no to dessert at a restaurant or avoid the snack table at a party. However, I had a sneaking suspicion that part of the reason she exerted such stringent self-control was a fear that once she gave in a little, she wouldn't be able to stop. I just had to find that one chink in her armor, I was almost positive it existed. Worse comes to worst, I waste a little money on junk food that no one eats.
Now, one may say that this is the kind of underhanded behavior that causes serious issues in a relationship, but at this point I really thought it was all in fun. I figured at the very least I'd get to act out a little of my fantasy in trying to persuade Laura to indulge. I had no idea where it would all lead.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
For the next few weeks, it looked like Laura would be proved correct. I set up bowls of candy around the house, stocked the cupboards with snack cakes and chips, and always had a gallon or two of ice cream in the freezer.
"Awww . . . such a shame all that has to go to waste," Laura said with a fake pout as I threw away a full half-gallon container of mint chip ice cream.
She tossed her shoulder length blonde hair as she sauntered out of the kitchen, surely feeling good about herself for proving me wrong. Even though I preferred heavier women, I still admired the way her size 6 jeans hugged her firm, round ass. I wasn't actually all that disappointed by her continued resistance, I knew it was a long-shot and had kept my expectations low.
I figured maybe I'd give it a few more weeks before letting it fizzle out. It was at least fun for fantasy purposes, some nights I'd dream that we'd be sitting together on the couch and all of a sudden Laura would jump up and bolt into the kitchen. I'd follow her in there to find her at a table filled with all the goodies I bought, stuffing her face like there was no tomorrow. I knew it wasn't likely to actually happen, but that really was okay with me. We had a good marriage built on much more than satisfying a fetish, and I'd love her whether she was 125 or 325.
Laura
I could only shake my head and smile when Alan finally revealed his deepest sexual fantasy. I had been asking him for a while, and the longer he held out the more it made me think it was something really extreme. In the grand scheme of things, him being a chubby chaser was nothing too wild. Although the thought of being fed until I was really stuffed was pretty weird. Oh well, I just hoped that I hadn't disappointed him too much when I told him it would never happen. He did seem pretty happy when I told him he could buy lots of junk food to try and tempt me.
What Alan didn't know, and what I made sure was buried deep in my past, was the fact that I was a rather chubby teenager. I had a nearly insatiable sweet tooth and lacked the self-control to say no to chocolate even if I was already stuffed full of fattening treats. Once I figured out that no guy ever wanted to be with a heifer, I managed to sum up enough will power to start weeding sweets out of my diet. When I left for college I was svelte and toned thanks to a strict diet and lots of time at the gym. I even managed to avoid the dreaded "freshman 15", watching as my roommates ballooned from dorm food, late night pizza, and tons of beer.
I did still have one tiny little weakness, one insistent little craving that simply would not give up and die.
Cheesecake.
Luscious, creamy, smooth, indulgent cheesecake. I liked it plain, swirled with chocolate or caramel, topped with fruit, or just about any way it could be made. Once, when Alan was making one of his frequent trips out of town for work, I had gone a little crazy and bought an entire cheesecake. I polished off the entire thing in only three days, even though I was feeling ill by the end of it. I lived on salad and water for the next two weeks, partially to ensure that the cheesecake didn't manifest in a pair of gooey love handles, and partially to punish myself for losing control.
But that wouldn't happen this time. I was too strong, too focused, too determined to beat the temptation. Or so I hoped.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Damn that man! Just when I thought he was close to giving up this crazy fantasy of his, he goes and brings home an entire New York style cheesecake. I was good the first night, but the second night Alan went out to run errands and I could hear it calling to me. I managed to hold out for all of ten minutes before skulking into the kitchen, my hands trembling as I lifted the box out of the fridge.
I'm ashamed to admit that I didn't even bother cutting out a slice of the cheesecake, I simply grabbed a fork and attacked. I moaned out loud as the first bite hit my eager tongue, the creamy goodness sliding down my throat. In some sort of dream-like state, I ate bite after bite. I probably would have gorged until I was sick, but I was jolted out of my trance when I heard the garage door open. I scrambled from the table in a panic, desperately needing an idea on how to hide my indulgence.
I stared at the cake on the counter, nearly a fifth of it reduced to crumbs. Suddenly, I was struck with inspiration . . .
Alan
I had just walked in the door from running some errands when I heard a small crash coming from the kitchen, followed by Laura exclaiming "Oh no!". I dropped my bag and hurried in, worried that she may have dropped something on her foot. The sight that greeted me was Laura standing by the fridge with a carton of soy milk in her hand, a sheepish look on her face, and a smashed cheesecake spread out by her feet.
"Oh babe, I'm so sorry," she said. "I was getting my milk here and accidentally knocked over the cheesecake. I guess the good news is that no one was eating it anyway, right?"
"Don't worry about it," I reassured her. "Let's get it cleaned up. And plus, I can always pick up another one."
"No!" Laura protested. "I mean, um . . . no need for that, right? Those aren't cheap, and it'll just get tossed anyway."
I was a little taken aback by her forceful response. It almost made me wonder if . . .
"Hey, you got a little cheesecake on your toes," I pointed out. "Why don't you get cleaned up and I'll take care of this here."
"Oh, okay," she replied, looking down at her feet. "Thanks, hun. And sorry again for making a mess."
"Don't worry about it," I smiled.
I waited until she was gone and quickly scooped up the cheesecake into the cardboard box. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure I wasn't caught, I took out the kitchen scale and placed the remains of the cheesecake on it. I looked on the box to find the weight of the cheesecake, then looked at the reading on the scale. After double and triple checking the numbers I put the scale away and placed the box in the trash. Then and only then I allowed a grin to spread across my face. That little minx had eaten some of the cheesecake, and she thought that she could hide it by dumping the rest on the floor.
It was then I believed for the first time that my trim little wife may have a much plumper future ahead of her. It was a pivotal moment in the events that would follow. I could have simply laughed it off or simply used it as fuel for my fantasies. Instead, however, I decided to take actual action based on what I had learned.
I quickly came up with a three-pronged attack against her self-control. First I would buy another cheesecake. Second, I would step it up in other areas, making sure plenty of sweet, salty, or greasy foods were always available. Third, I would make sure that the food would be displayed in such a way that I clearly couldn't track whether it was being eaten. Ice cream was out, but cookie jars filled with homemade baked goods were a good bet. I'd have to be very strategic, not just in what I bought but how it was displayed.
I barely managed to stop myself from rubbing my hands together and cackling like a cheesy movie supervillain. I didn't even pause to examine my motivations, it was just full speed ahead on the fattening train.
Laura
This was not good, not good at all. I had successfully disposed of one cheesecake, but Alan just replaced it with another. And this one was pre-sliced. I told myself that I couldn't eat a piece because then Alan would know, but then a horribly ingenious idea came to mind one night. If I ate just a tiny sliver of each slice, I could simply push them all together a little tighter and no one would ever know. I turned into a cheesecake fiend, sneaking a bite here and there, even waking up a few times in the middle of the night and slinking down to the kitchen for "just a taste".
Now I was frantically brushing my teeth while Alan was watching TV downstairs. He had spent the past weekend baking dozens of homemade chocolate chip cookies, and the smell had driven me practically insane. To my chagrin, I lacked the will power to resist snagging one as soon as he left the kitchen for a few minutes. Since they were all kept in a cookie jar, I didn't think he'd notice one missing. Of course, over the past few days one had turned into nearly a dozen and I was hoping that brushing my teeth would get rid of my "cookie breath".
It seemed that one furtive indulgence had opened the floodgates. I had even caught myself mindlessly grabbing a handful of chocolates from one of the many dishes Alan had spread throughout the house. I knew I had to stop, but I was like a recovering junk food junkie who kept telling myself "I can quit whenever I want" while sneaking just one more cookie.
The next morning Alan had to leave for a five day trip out of town for work, not coming back until Tuesday. He was a software designer who usually worked as a consultant, and there was a big convention in Atlanta that offered the opportunity for him to drum up some new business. I often envied his ability to work from home while I put in a good 50 hours or so each week in an office environment. Working in HR at a local advertising firm was sometimes stressful, but still quite rewarding.
That evening I came home from work (stopping at the gym like usual). I planned to have a very light dinner and then go to a movie with my friend Patty, I knew I had to stay out of the house to avoid temptation. Unfortunately, two back-to-back phone calls ruined that.
"I'm so sorry," Patty said. "It's just that Dan surprised me with reservations at that nice new restaurant downtown for an early anniversary present. Maybe we can do a movie tomorrow?"
"That's fine," I said. "We'll do it some other time."
Five minutes after I hung up with Patty, Alan called from Atlanta. After he told me about his flight and we said how much we'd miss each other, he dropped this bomb on me -
"Oh yeah, you may as well toss the cheesecake, I think it's near the expiration date. Throw away the cookies too, I'm sure they'll be stale soon. I have to admit, you were right about resisting all those sweets. It's a good thing I like to bake for the fun of it, or else I might give up soon."
I licked my lips unconsciously. "Uh-huh, sure I can get rid of those. Don't worry about it."
A few minutes later our conversation ended and I walked into the kitchen as if in a trance. I grabbed a fork and a glass, then took out the gallon of whole milk (where did that come from?). I placed the cheesecake and cookies on the table and sat down, clutching the fork in one hand.
After that, things got a little blurry. The next thing I remembered clearly was sitting on the couch Sunday night, wearing only a pair of panties and an old t-shirt. The coffee table was covered with a pizza box, two empty bags of chips and an empty cookie jar. I looked down, trying to ignore the many crumbs that adorned my chest and lap. My normally flat stomach bulged out obscenely, a pale orb that obscured my view of my panties. I pulled up my t-shirt so it was fully revealed, gently pressing against my bloated middle. The skin was stretched tight, my overstuffed tummy was quite hard to the touch.
I was awash with feelings of shame and self-loathing. My vaunted self-control had cracked and crumbled, much like the dozens of cookies that I had gorged upon. My throbbing belly churned and gurgled as it struggled to cope with my gluttony. I groaned out loud as I pushed myself forward and slowly rose to my feet. After a couple belches that would make a truck driver proud, I cleaned up the worst of the mess and waddled to bed. By the time Alan got back Tuesday night I had eaten just about every pastry and piece of candy in the house, buying some on my own to replace what was eaten. My stomach was so puffy from the overindulgence that I had struggled to find a skirt that still fit.
"So good to be home," Alan said as he walked in the door and greeted me with a kiss.
I hoped he couldn't taste salt on my lips, I had stopped at a fast food restaurant instead of the gym on my way home that day. I hoped that I would be able to control myself a little better now that he was around again.
"I'm so happy you're back," I told him. "I'm so lonely when you're gone."
