...but no longer. You lie on your lean, taut back, bed rumpled and musky, as she brushes her teeth, tiny Braun motor humming efficiently in the white-tiled bathroom. Your long fingers�no longer plump sausages�slowly massage a newly-flat abdomen (Al Green-flat, like his Greatest Hits cover), sliding down to the bony horns of your protruding pelvis, and finally reaching your flaccid, sated cock which lies to one side (to the right, actually) content in the knowledge that it can spring to life, up and hard, without fear of bumping into, and fighting air-space with, a selfish, globular belly. Your eyes ease open and you watch your hands on your cock (you can actually see it!) and your lids slowly close again and a smile appears on your lips. Now she can slide you into her, from on high or below, without a barrier, a wall (the wall came tumbling down!) preventing easy access. Ah! From above! She can now lie beneath you without fear of pain, fear of becoming a waffle! She can wrap her legs around her lean man and take him in, slide him in, guide him in, with ease. The Braun toothbrush clicks off and you hear her rinse and spit. And you hear her emit a little laugh. An almost gleeful laugh as she saunters from the bathroom back towards your bed. Your eyes pop open in anticipation and see her beautiful, round body�pink with fat�soft like a down-filled, oversized pillow that you can disappear in. She loves you. And she wants you. Because you were once a fat man...but no longer.