chapter 2

After a forty-five-minute drive, we made it to his place. He opened the door for me and held my hand as I got out. I caught a glimpse of myself in the glass of his front door. I filled out my clothes everywhere. My round cheeks and big double-chin sat together formed a proper moon-face. My pillow arms framed plush breasts that sat on a dough-girl-belly that wrapped around to form a heavy spare tire. My thighs were fat little hams stretching my jeans. For someone on the low end of the five-foot range, I was pretty heavy. I'm sure I'd doubled my weight from my skinny days, way back when.

Inside he took off my jacket and shoes for me, then I found a seat at the dining table while he set about fixing a grand brunch. I think I was halfway through the first picture in my adult coloring book by the time the smell of eggs, sausage, and fresh waffles started to make my mouth water. After I finished my coloring he set a full plate in front of me. He set a napkin on my lap (and over a bit of my belly!) and told me: "good girls clean their plates."

The golden brown Belgian waffle was already cut into bite sized pieces, topped with a hearty scoop of vanilla ice cream, sprinkled with cinnamon, and drizzled with maple syrup. He brought in another, smaller plate with scrambled eggs, sprinkled with cheddar cheese, and cut-up sausage links. He set a glass of orange juice and a mug of hot chocolate on the table, kissed me on the cheek, and said: "dig in."

I was tempted to ask if he was trying to fatten me up, but we both already knew the answer to that. He'd already done a wonderful job of it over the last six years.

Every few minutes he came over to squeeze my pillowy upper arms, or tickle me under my double chin. He called me his: "big girl" "growing girl" "hungry sweetie" "greedy girl." I loved every second of it and every bite I took.

My pants were getting tight and I could feel that I was getting close to full by the time I finished my first serving... but the warmth of the waffle contrasted by the cold of the ice cream, I had to have another. I was proud of myself; I made it halfway through before I felt like I couldn't go on. But Mister Joe was taking care of me and good girls do have to clean their plates. He knelt down and kissed my tummy, my squishy, doughy middle, then unfastened my jeans.

He smiled at the little strip of bright pink covering my lower belly that matched the pink of my shirt covering the upper part.

He fed me, bite by bite, always making sure the waffle came paired with a bit of ice cream and a bit of syrup. Every bite brought a soft voice praising me. "Good girl."

He set another bite in my obedient mouth. "There you go."

I moaned a bit, as much from how sweet he was as he fed me as from fullness. "Eat up."

Cinnamon and maple danced on my taste buds. My tummy told me to stop but my tongue and my Mister Joe told me to keep going. "You know how much I love a big appetite."

When I finished he stroked my cheeks with his hands. "You're going to grow up so big."

I was so stuffed I could feel it in my chest. I was so full that I almost couldn't stand. But Mister Joe gave me a hand up and led me gently to his bedroom. He helped me sit and then lay back, fluffed my pillow, and tucked me in. He kissed my forehead and after a few minutes I nodded off.