Chapter 2 - home is where the hatred is

I drove my BMW into the seedier part of town. Nothing but pawn shops and liquor stores. The one notable exception was of course Big Mama's Barbecue. That's where I was going; the epicenter of all my problems and joys. Everything that's happened to me lately can be linked back to this place.

I parked and got out of the car. I checked the time on my phone, 10:15, and proceeded to walk towards the entrance. The sign on the door said closed, but I knew better. I pushed it open and was hit by the all-to-familiar aroma of sauce, lard, and frying oil. My mouth began to water, among other things. God, I'm weak. Just the scent of this heart-clogging soul food made me melt like butter on a biscuit. I continue to make my way to the counter, belly rumbling loud enough to hear across the room. I know she's knows I'm here, but she likes to make me work for it. I lean up against the greasy countertop and ring the bell set next to the cash register.

I hear a booming voice with a southern drawl yell from the back, "Just a minute!". She knows it's me. It's always me. I come here every night after the place closes for what she likes to call "The Midnight Special". She makes me wait constantly so my hunger grows and makes me specifically ask for my order to further add to the humiliating nature of what I'm doing. In the meantime, I start unbuttoning my blouse. I'm spilling out of my bra; my boobs has gotten so big lately. I bounce on my toes and see them jiggle way more than they used to.

I continue the process and let my belly hang out in the warm air. I place my hand on it in an effort to soothe the savage beast growling inside. My stomach is so doughy. I can't believe it's gotten like this, but with how I've been eating lately, I guess I can't be surprised. I've really let myself go over the last couple months. I never would have imagined that I'd have a gut, especially one this big. I'm so ashamed of myself for losing control, but it feels so good. The feeling of my manicured fingertips lightly scraping against my warm flesh is driving me crazy. I bite my lip to keep from moaning as I kick my shoes off, placing my feet on the dirty linoleum floor. I feel my heel squish in a cool puddle of barbecue sauce that had spilled on the floor.

My belly sticks out and rolls over my waistband. I have love handles that fold over my rapidly expanding hips. Everything about my body is swollen. I can't wait to get out of this skirt. It binds and constricts every part of my softened form. It fit so well not to long ago. Now my butt is threatening to burst out the back of it. Mmm, the thought of that is so arousing.

This woman and her sinfully fattening food have corrupted my mind. My body craves it like a drug. I can't help but salivate at the thought off getting even bigger; popping buttons, spilling out of my clothes, having all my co-workers see me for the plump little piggy I am. The thought makes me moan again. I wonder how they'd react? Laughter, disgust, pity; a mixture of the three? How would a bunch of stuffy, high-class, Ivy League lawyers react to seeing one of their own on all fours; face down in a pile of pulled pork, barbecue sauce covering every inch of her bloated, flabby body? I have to rub my thighs together from how hot the thought makes me. Damn Big Mama for making me wait like this! She knows what it does to me. I need my fix!

I check my phone again, 10:19. I've worked myself up this much and it's only been four minutes. But four minutes is four minutes too long! I've waited all day for this. I've been sucking sauce from under my fingernails. I've been digging out little pieces of beef from between my teeth. I've been doing anything to feed my addiction, and now that I'm so close to getting what I want (correction, what I need) I'm going manic. I'm literally twitching a bit, like a f*cking crackhead. I'm going through withdrawal. I'm sweating bullets in anticipation. I need something, just a taste, to hold me over. Then I remember a place where I could get some.

I take a step back and look down at the floor. I see the little spot of the amazing sauce my foot had been in before. A small string of drool drips out of my mouth. I slowly start to lower myself (both physically and metaphorically) and get on my hands and knees, my cushiony rump stuck high in the air. My rational side is mortified, but my desire is taking control. I slowly start to extend my tongue towards the puddle. Just before I hit the surface, I hear a voice from the back shout out, "Comin' suga!"

I shoot up and got back to an upright position, brushing myself off. I see her walk out with nothing but an apron on. I watch as she saunters up to the counter, body wobbling with every step. She looks at me with that same smug grin she always wears and seductively says "Welcome to Big Mama's Barbecue. What can I get for you tonight darlin'?"

I tremble a bit at the knees before meekly responding, "The Midnight Special".

She leans over the counter, her ample bosom pressed against it, and whispers in my ear "Comin' right up".