Chapter 3 - the country mile

I hopped in the shower, trying to clear my head a bit. There was so much more of me to clean. My hands soaped up the plush dough that made up my body as I watched the water drip down various rolls like a river over rocks. The fat felt so foreign to me that I couldn't help but be fascinated by it. Lifting up my dome of a belly and letting it flop back down onto what I could only describe as a newly minted fupa. Slapping my corpulent thighs and watching them ripple like puddles of cellulite. Fondling my love handles as they ooze through my fingers like pudding in a plastic bag. The whole thing was kind of exhilarating.

Since the Kanamits started to inhabit the earth, sexual drives had seemingly been replaced by drives for food. With the gorging fog shaken from my head, my body suddenly felt starved for attention. Lathering up in the shower had been the most erotic thing I'd done in months and it felt amazing. But I knew that pleasuring myself or seeking pleasure elsewhere would only distract me from my mission, just as the food did. So I decided to hold off on such activities until after I visited my father.

I got dried off, but found that fitting clothes were in short supply. I hadn't been shopping in a couple weeks, which meant that all my clothes had been outgrown. Having little options, I settled for a shirt that barely covered my gut and a pair of jeans that I couldn't zip or button. I combed through my hair and put on some light makeup. Even though I was bulging out of my outfit, it didn't mean that I had to look like a slob.

I got in the car and instantly felt the thoughts of eating creep into my brain. Was I hungry? I couldn't be. I ate lunch an hour ago. But there it was. Images of succulent dishes swirling through my head. A rumbling deep in my stomach. A craving on my tongue in my watering mouth. This was a problem. There I was, so fat that my belly almost touched the steering wheel, and all I could think about was food. I was trying to unravel a dangerous conspiracy, but all I wanted was a burger.

I thought that some food might help me think straight. After all, my father lived over an hour away, so driving on an empty stomach didn't sound like a good idea. I couldn't help myself and headed straight for a Kanamit drive thru.

Still wary of the Kanamit's intentions, I decided to go with something small. A triple bacon cheeseburger with French fries and onion rings. Thinking of that as a small meal seems ridiculous, but it was a mere snack compared to what I normally would have order.

I stuffed the greasy and fried delights into my mouth with the ferocity of a jungle cat. It still tasted like heaven, even though I felt guilty about eating and enjoying it. I placed my hand on my bloated gut as my shirt rolled up even more, gently rubbing it as I finally felt satisfied. During this, I caught glimpse of my ketchup stained face in the mirror and instantly snapped myself out of it before the fog could overtake me again. So with my stomach ever closer to the steering wheel, I slammed my foot on the gas and peeled out towards my destination.

On the drive, I started feeling hungry again. The same thoughts from earlier creeping back in to distract me. But I knew being hungry after consuming such large portions wasn't natural, so I kept pushing forward until I reached the dirt path that was my father's driveway. The familiar scent of the farm filled my nostrils as I opened the door, reminding me of all the times I ran around there as a kid.

Getting in and out of the car wasn't as easy as it used to be. I had to do it one massive leg at a time, nice and slow to avoid getting stuck or falling out. While standing, I felt my butt touch the back of the seat and the steering wheel simultaneously. The thought of it made me shiver with nerves before I could put it out of my head. Was I really that big back there?

As soon as I closed the car door, I heard the front door open and was greeted by my father wielding a 12 gauge shotgun and pointing it at me. He was the same man he'd always been; tall and wiry just like me (or like I had been), thick handlebar mustache, salt and pepper hair under a black cowboy hat. It was clear that the Kanamits hadn't gotten to him yet. Something tells me greeting everyone with a gun probably had something to do with it.

"I don't know who you are, but whatever you're selling, I ain't buying! So you best get moseying along big girl", he shouted at me in his gravelly way.

I couldn't help but feel embarrassed. I had gotten so fat that my own father didn't recognize me. I mean, why would he? I looked nothing like the daughter he'd seen over the holidays a few months back. How was he supposed to guess that this blob of a woman was his precious little Suzy Q?

I raised my hands and said, "Put the gun down dad. It's me".

I watched the look on his face shift from stern to confused to shocked in seconds. He lowered the weapon and walked over to me from the porch. For a few tense seconds, I was worried he wouldn't believe me. But the way his eyes bulged out in surprise let me know what he was thinking. The slight tears that followed helped too. He gave me a hug, wrapping his arms around me the best he could and said, "Good lord Suzy. What did they do to you?"