Penny

You are swiftly ushered to a secluded table by a gracious hostess, clearly prioritized by the house. Your young, darling wife Penny sashays a step ahead of you with an alluring waddle - her wide, pillowy hips and big fat fucking ass rub against your waist as she leads you along. Her soft, plump fingers lazily tug your hand up by her shoulder. Years of lobster, wagyu steak, Michelin stars, first class flying, room service, boozy brunches, catered spreads, open bars, eager waitresses and private chefs have filled Penny out into a voluptuous fertility goddess. Her proportions are absolutely stacked and expanding with every indulgence. Her sexy, red dress strains valiantly on all fronts against her thighs, rump, belly and bust - stretching and groaning weakly with every tubby step and deep breath. Penny has been playing a dangerous game at the upper limits of her wardrobe for weeks. Even her jewelry is squeezed tight on her chubby fingers, wrists and ankles. You pass an affluent couple perusing a wine menu. The man stares quizzically as Penny's passing mass rattles his glasses and silverware. She stifles a giggle, sitting down at your table with as much grace as she can muster on her humongous cushion of ass. "Would you like to order for me, dear?" She purrs expectantly.