Chapter 2 - c2: the first (but certainly not last) binge

Throughout the rest of the day, Trinity experienced the same strange clarity while eating food. The iceberg lettuce in her salad had a more vegetable than water taste to it, and the carefully sliced tomatoes packed a tangy punch. The house's tap water, which was all Trinity would drink, tasted of minerals and proved to be utterly disgusting. The dull-witted girl was unable to comprehend how and why flavors were so strong to her, but she didn't exactly mind it, except in the case of the water, of course. What was she supposed to drink now? Her mother didn't believe in Crystal Light or other mixes, so, very reluctantly, the safest thing for Trinity to drink was apple juice. Soda made her bloat, not to mention was caloric, but at least juice was a little better. And oh, how wonderful and powerful it was! The crisp, sour-sweet kick of the apple was refreshing and cooling as it traveled down Trinity's throat, though after a few minutes of not consuming it, her mouth became dry and wanting again.

She was afflicted by an increasingly irritating need for proper nutrition, as opposed to the usual dry slice of toast and lackluster salad every day. An abnormal yearning for sweets, for something savory and wholesome to fill her flat, malnourished stomach. Of course, being an anorexic, Trinity often felt these needs for real food, but never were those needs as demanding as now. She couldn't succumb. She wouldn't. She was in control of herself, the government of her own body. She refused to permit food, silly, disgusting, inanimate food to order her about. But those sandwich cookies sitting all alone in the cupboard seemed to be crying for Trinity. The cookies, so golden and soft and stuffed full of decadent white cream, calling her name...Trinity was unable to contain herself and her burning desire for food, so before she knew it, she was shoveling the rich circles into her mouth at a furious pace, consuming far too many at once.

After an entire family-sized package of cookies disappeared down her gullet, Trinity had to stifle a loud burp. Her stomach ached from overeating, and she couldn't grasp the sudden gluttony that had seized her, but its grip had been firm and authoritative on her. She didn't pay much mind to the mild discomfort in her torso, despite her disordered fears of food and eating too much, because her brain was high on sugar and automatically craving more. Trinity was also reflecting on how divine the cookies had tasted, being able to single out the salty richness of the butter, the starchiness of the flour, and even that titch of imitation vanilla extract. If cookies were so delectable, how might that pasta from last night's supper be? Trinity ordered herself aloud to stop. Already the tiniest of potbellies was blossoming from her taut, board-flat midsection from consuming such an impressive volume of cookies. She wouldn't allow herself to slip further into the mean clutches of food.

Food. Why was it so wonderful, so satisfying, so excruciatingly addictive? Was it, perhaps, simply because it was mandatory for the human body to function and survive? In much the same way as sex, food was something desirable and sought after, a thing cherished and enjoyed. And sex is the primitive instinct to reproduce and continue the subsequent generation so as to preserve a species, to keep life going. Just as one requires oxygen to breathe and live, so do they need food. And Trinity had deprived herself far too much these past three years. Day after day of enduring piercing hunger pangs that throbbed painfully into her very core, a devastating ache, the natural will to maintain healthy life denied and buried under a piss-poor self-image and nagging doubt. Trinity may have been slave to her eating disorder previously, but now, as she opened the refrigerator to extract from it the pot of fettuccine alfredo, she was taking a second step into bondage with food.

Trinity moaned with genuine ecstasy as she crammed overstuffed fists of pasta into her awaiting mouth. Bits of white sauce freckled her obsidian hair like powdered sugar on black coffee, much of the cheesy goodness smearing and crusting over her greedy magenta lips. It was insatiable, this sudden voracious appetite. Unstoppable. Trinity's brain was flashing a big red No Signal between her thoughts and her extremities, for she was powerless to command her limbs to cease cooperating with this madness. Ah, but the fettuccine was so damn delightful. The salt, butter, and whipping cream, which settled like a bar of lead in the base of her belly, so entrancing and enticing with all its creamy, filling dairy and the soft, gummy-like noodles crushing with ease between her grinding teeth... Trinity's appetite was equivalent to that of a Tyrannosaur's- Unbridled and ever demanding for more nutrients, more calories, more fat.

More meat on the bones for survival, and indeed, these weary, osteoporosis-plagued bones were sobbing for a hearty feeding. By this time, a round little tummy was poking demurely from nether her Diva crop top, swollen and hurting like a bitch. Trinity took in a big breath to try to settle the discomfort, and as she did so her belly extended a couple inches. It was now the size of a small balloon, just barely hanging over into her lap. Her breasts had also softened and sprouted a bit of growth, unbeknownst to Trinity who was too miserable to notice or care that she was already beginning a journey of weight gain that would eventually land her in her bed immobile, imprisoning her for life.