Chapter 30 - (part twenty-three)

Mim gestured, and the overhead lights dimmed and the recliner was bathed in a soft ambient pink glow. The room was redolent with dessert aromas and the tantalizing smells of everything butterbell—the sweet heady scent of ripe fruit commingled with fragrant wildflower.

“I’m going to feed you to capacity, but you will savor every bite,” Mim declared. “This can be an extraordinarily pleasurable experience for you, if you let it.” She rubbed her hands together delightedly. “Now, what shall we start with? Why not something light, to ease you into it!”

She surveyed the tabletop and the trays still sitting atop the serving bots. “For you, I think…the triple-whipped butterbell mousse will do nicely.”

Not wanting to betray her anticipation, Lina sat completely still and said nothing.

Mim hoisted the mousse, which was in an oversized dessert cup with an enormous dollop of whipped cream on top. Then she summoned her robotic seat, moved forward into a deep curved recess in the tabletop, and settled in across from Lina. She produced a long-handled ergonomic feeding spoon, the head of which was fabricated of an extraordinarily soft silicone-like polymer, designed to be gentle to the mouth and to deliver a generous but manageable portion.

“Open,” said Mim, brandishing the spoon commandingly. Lina obeyed.

With the dessert cup in one hand and the spoon in the other, Mim delivered the first spoonful to Lina’s waiting mouth.

The mousse was perfectly chilled, with a texture as fluffy as a cloud, and bursting with flavor. Lina did her best maintain a flat affect as she ate. Inside she was rapturous—but she would not give Mim the satisfaction of knowing it.

Mim employed the spoon efficiently, delivering one spoonful after another at a steady rate until the mousse was gone.

“You certainly gobbled that right up,” she said, grinning as she dabbed Lina’s lips with a napkin. “But let’s move right along to keep those calories flowing.”

Lina should have wanted to shove Mim aside, bolt from the recliner, and run…anyplace. Now, stripped of her willpower, and still too physically exhausted to resist or flee, Lina felt as though she could not stop eating even if she wanted to. But she immediately reminded herself of her near-starvation—and that was not a condition to which she wished to return.

Next there was a parfait of topaz-colored sliced butterbell and shortcake and full-fat whipped cream in alternating layers, nine layers deep, with plump Gliesian cloudberries on top—which Lina dispatched with equal alacrity.

Mim goaded her on. “Keep going, darlin’, you’re doing just fine!” She looked around tentatively as she decided on the next dessert for Lina to devour.

“Butterbell cobbler!” said Mim. “Better get it while it’s still nice and warm. And you’ll need a big scoop of Vesta vanilla ice cream on top.”

The crust was thick and cake-like, the butterbell tender and juicy, and the Vesta vanilla ice cream was the perfect counterpoint. Lina was exhilarated.

“Here, honey,” said Mim, pouring Lina a glass of aromatic liquor. “Wash it down with some sparkling butterbell melomel! It pairs wonderfully with everything on the menu.” This Lina drank herself, without assistance from Mim.

Next Mim presented a braided pastry filled with butterbell compote, and garnished with a sprig of mint. She fed this to Lina by hand.

“I’m doing all the talking today,” said Mim. “You’re being so awfully quiet. For such a headstrong young woman, I thought you’d have so much more to say about all this.”

“Mmph,” Lina mumbled, her cheeks stuffed full of pastry.

Then came the fresh chilled butterbell fruits, their bright ripe pink and orange skins glistening with condensation. These Mim cut in half; she removed the seeds, and scooped out the luscious flesh, which she fed to Lina with a slightly smaller and more elegant spoon. The meat of the butterbell was succulent and cool and refreshing to Lina’s palate.

Lina was enveloped by a glowing sense of contentment, in spite of herself, and she was keenly aware that Mim for the first time was showing a gentle and nurturing side. But Lina cautioned herself: she must not forge a bond with her. It was only more trickery—she knew that Mim was only putting up a front because she was getting her way. Should Lina fail to acquiesce to any part of Mim’s plan, Mim would rebuke her—there was no doubt of that.

In succession came butterbell turnovers and a butterbell trifle and butterbell cream cheese cookies with butterbell and lunar lemon glaze. And Lina wolfed her way through them all. Mim was smiling slyly as she stuffed the skinny with sumptuous desserts.

But Lina’s chewing began to slow with each bite and eventually ceased altogether. Lina heaved a sigh.

“Something wrong?” asked Mim.

“I couldn’t possibly eat another bite,” huffed Lina, leaning back in the recliner.

Mim palpated Lina’s belly and consulted a read-out to measure its tautness. She gave it a gentle pat. “You still have a little more room in there,” she said. “But I have something to help relieve the sense of pressure.” She produced a vial of faintly turquoise-colored liquid.

“Bottoms up!” said Mim, uncapping the vial. “Just a little something to reignite your appetite.”

She tilted Lina’s chin upward with little resistance. Just a day ago, Lina would have slapped the vial out of Mim’s hand, but now she quaffed its contents in a single gulp.

“Shall we take a quick breather?” said Mim. “Let the appetite renewer do its work. You may want to have a quick stretch to keep your belly pliable.”

The recliner adjusted and Lina was able to stretch her arms and legs and to bend a few times side to side, forward and back. This would have been her chance to bolt, had she the inclination, but she was much too full to run…and in any case had nowhere to go.

In just minutes, as the liquid went to work, Lina began to feel all residual tension melt away. Soon, she felt a craving swell up anew inside her, and before long, she was ravenous again.

Lina’s appetite restored, Mim immediately resumed the feeding. She presented Lina with butterbell dessert bars, and butterbell jubilee, and butterbell torte, which were vanquished in due course.

“Oh, and now here’s something for you!” said Mim excitedly. “A slice of Old-Fashioned Butterbell Pie! It’s an old family recipe. You’re going to love this!” Lina found the crust flaky and tender and the butterbell perfectly spiced.

“Here, try this beautiful butterbell shake, sweetie.” She handed a great tall glass over to Lina. “You don’t even want to know how many calories are in this.” And Mim was right: Lina didn’t want to know. Nonetheless, Lina sucked eagerly at the straw.

Then came a beautifully presented triple-layered butterbell cake with butterbell frosting. It did not seem quite full-sized—however large such a thing might be—but certainly it was much larger than any single serving Lina ever would have allowed herself.

“This is almost too pretty to eat,” said Mim, considering the perfectly designed cake for a moment. Then she shrugged. Almost.” And with that, she cut a piece, and into Lina’s mouth it went. Lina made little chuffing sounds after each bite.

“Oh, and some butterbell tarts, you’d like some of those, wouldn’t you, dear?” said Mim. She didn’t give Lina time to answer, and popped a tart in Lina’s mouth, quickly followed by another.

Mim was growing ever more animated, obviously pleased with Lina’s compliance, as she persisted in plying the young woman with treats.

Lina wanted to moan—in pleasure, but also with some discomfort, as she was already feeling overfull—but she dared not. She did not want to show her hand.

Next came a large slice of butterbell cheesecake, drizzled with butterbell syrup. It was smooth and creamy, with a perfect graham cracker crust, but Lina found it impossibly rich. She barely managed to finish the slice. At last, she hiccupped and cried out, “No more! Too much! I’ll pop!”

“Shhh.” Mim hushed her soothingly. “No one’s popping on my watch. It’s alright; you may stop eating now. I think you’d better get some rest. You have another big day tomorrow.”

Mim summoned the serving bots to clear the empty plates and cups and bowls and glasses and trays. Lina lay still in the recliner, clutching her distended belly and trying to stay as motionless as possible.

“Well!” said Mim. “You’re already eating like a fat girl! Keep that up, ma truie, and you will be one soon enough, don’t you worry!”

Lina’s mouth was encircled with the remnants of the last desserts she had eaten. The bib was splattered as well. “Tsk, tsk. Look at you. How careless,” teased Mim. “You’ve made such a mess.” Lina could only manage a shrug as Mim wiped her mouth with a napkin before removing the bib.

The tabletop retracted and the recliner adjusted itself. The cushions puffed up and Lina settled in.

“You’ve had a very busy day, my dear,” said Mim. “And you should feel quite pleased with yourself.” Lina was in too much of a sugar stupor to feel much of anything. In her hazy overstuffed state, she was only aware of being glutted and bloated and perhaps a bit giddy.

But even in the wake of that lavish dessert feast, Lina still did not *want* to be a fat girl. Mim could stuff her full of all the food her stomach could hold, blow her up as big as she wanted, but Lina silently resolved then and there that she would always be a skinny at heart.

Mim sat beside the recliner, laid a hand atop Lina’s belly, gave it a few tentative pokes as though testing it, and began to rub in concentric circles. “Soon all of this will turn to fat,” said Mim. “And it will lay the perfect foundation for all the blubber that’s to follow.” Lina knew she should have been horrified at the thought, but she was too tired to protest and an artful belly massage was exactly what she needed at that moment. Her horror would have to wait for another day.

“Relax and sleep, my soon-to-be-former skinny,” Mim said. Lina soon drifted off and fell into strange dreams.