chapter 5

*(Author's Note: around a year ago, an incredibly talented, but now retired writer and I aspired to collaborate on a story. Our work was never finished, but I couldn't let it go to waste. Portions of this chapter were adapted from it to fit this story's existing narrative. I hope you as the reader, along with the aforementioned writer, enjoy.)*




'What the hell am I thinking?' he wondered, as he settled into his black Toyota and typed her address into the GPS with detached surprise. Google Maps couldn't answer his question, but the artificial voice directed him away from the home he shared with his loving wife all the same. He watched as it shrank into an unrecognizable speck in the rearview mirror.

'Why don't I feel guilty?' he wondered. noting the dampness of the steering wheel beneath his sweaty palms, along with the tight ball in his throat. Was he excited? No, that was an understatement. He was ecstatic as he turned onto the highway, unable to hold back a shit-eating-grin. It wasn't until he stopped to recognize his alarming lack of remorse that a nauseating swell of guilt finally arose.

The ding of an incoming notification on Kik interrupted his souring conscience. Of course. She seemed to have a near telepathic ability to assert herself whenever an unpleasant reality threatened to eclipse her influence. If he caught an unflattering reflection of himself in the mirror, ripped a favorite article of clothing, or inconveniently remembered his wedding vows, she'd pounce on him like a kitten who'd spotted an especially fat ball of yarn.

MISSISSIPPI QUEEN: Can't wait to see you! :)

'That's nice,' he thought, yet the kind gesture was quickly followed by:

MISSISSIPPI QUEEN: I want you to stop at the McDonald's off the next exit and get 2 Bigmac meals.

He could not help but groan. She had insisted on a pancake, egg, and bacon breakfast already. Now this? He knew it was pointless to protest; when she felt like playing, there was no hope of talking his feeder out of her decision to toy with him. Perhaps she could be placated, he hoped as he messaged back:

Fat_lil_Boy1989: I thought you were cooking me dinner?

The MISSISSIPPI QUEEN replied in rapid fire succession.

MISSISSIPPI QUEEN: I thought you were a better listener? TWO Big Mac Meals. Next exit! What doesn't the little piggy understand? Is Piggy confused?

Fat_lil_Boy1989: No, not confused.

MISSISSIPPI QUEEN: Best hurry, then.

Fat_lil_Boy1989: I'm going, I'm going.

It would be unwise to provoke her, he reasoned, seeing as how he was about to turn himself over to her for the long weekend. After a momentary pause, he added an apology for good measure.

Fat_lil_Boy1989: Sorry for keeping you waiting.

MISSISSIPPI QUEEN: Just add a milkshake to your order and we'll call it square...and you round! haha { ;) }

Fat_lil_Boy1989: { :\ }

It would be their first meeting, at least in person. He'd imagined doing this countless times since they started chatting many months and pounds prior. The imminence of their introduction leant a surreal quality to an otherwise routine trip to McDonald's, a ritual which had transitioned to habit after forced repetition. Glancing down at his well fed form, he wondered if her influence would be amplified by her physical presence.

'She could only do so much damage in one weekend,' he told himself unconvincingly. On a visceral level, he knew meeting her face to face was about as safe as cuddling with a wild lioness, but he clung to the shallow logic that he was in control of his own actions with a vain sort of naivete.

An hour and a half into a car ride marked by open fields and grazing cattle, he found himself deep in farm country. Only then did it occur to him that he hadn't been invited to the apartment the MISSISSIPPI QUEEN had described in the city. Curious though he was, he had been conditioned not to question her instructions. He continued to drive and almost wondered if he'd crossed into a simulated reality with an endless green background.

Just as he'd slipped into the pleasant lull of familiarity and subdued anticipation, the GPS announced his arrival as he pulled onto a dirt road made up with more unkept rock and gravel than dirt. In all directions he saw nothing but woodlands speckled in shades of greens, yellows, and bronze. Scenic, though it was, there were other less pleasant words that applied as well. Remote. Isolated. Alone.

At the edge of the road sat a single oak cottage with a broad, open porch set up with two matching rocking chairs. Walking down a winding path and up the creaking steps, he made his way towards the MISSISSIPPI QUEEN. His knock sounded hollow against the cottage front door, but it soon swung open with gusto.

"It's so good of you to drop by, Kyle."