chapter 6

Eric felt a stiffness in his lower back as he rose from the standard issue twin sized mattress and box spring. The public university had clearly spared no expense in furnishing Eric's dormitory. As Eric looked towards the room's single door, he heard a knock for the second time and decided the noise hadn't been a dream after all. Hurriedly throwing on a pair of athletic shorts and a sleeveless shirt he typically reserved for the campus weight room, Eric rushed to answer the door.

His roommate's bed still empty, Eric was alone and assumed the knocking was said roommate, Craig, returning from a night of drunken escapades. Eric could not hide the look of surprise from his face when he saw that it wasn't Craig after all. It was her.

Much was just as Eric remembered from many years before. Her feet were bare, as they often were when she visited, given that she lived just a few doors down the hall. Her form fitting black leggings clung to a pair of shapely legs and thighs, along with the tight tank top, which, in conjunction, all but flaunted how well she maintained her figure. The face, though, was not as Eric recalled. Albeit, it was a face Eric could not forget as of late, despite how hard he tried.

"Good Morning, Sleepyhead," she greeted invitingly as the smell of cinnamon and brown sugar swept over Eric's senses.

"Good Morning, Dr. Thrace," Eric replied.

"Oh please, Eric! No need to be so formal when we're off the clock. I have a first name, you know."

"Craig's still out, I think, but if you want to use the Xbox it's totally cool if you..." Eric started.

"Come on. You know I didn't come here for Craig, and I'm certainly not here to play games this time, Eric." Dr. Thrace advised with an unshakable aura of inevitability present in her voice.

Eric could be oblivious, but even he took the hint this time. Still, as the situation unfolding before him seemed too good to be true, Eric assumed nothing. "Then why are you here, Doctor...errr...Christine?"

"I'm here to bring you breakfast," Dr. Thrace disclosed as she gestured toward the large apple pie balanced in the palm of her hand.

"Kind of early for dessert, isn't it?"

"Nonsense! It's never too early for pie!"

"Still trying to ruin my figure?" Eric teasingly inquired.

"Something like that," Dr. Thrace answered, intentionally vague.

Almost immediately after Dr. Thrace stepped foot inside, the room began to spin. The plain eggshell-white walls rotated in on themselves, transitioning to pastel patterned wallpaper. The bargain basement dormitory carpet shriveled away in favor of a plush brown rug. Eric found himself lying flat on his back, but not on the twin sized mattress from years before. The uncomfortable bed had transformed into the aged leather couch of Dr. Thrace's office. Looking down from above, Dr. Thrace remained, yet now draped in professional attire, as Eric was accustomed to from their sessions.

"Open up, Tubby!" Dr. Thrace said, pie still in hand.

Before Eric could get a word in edgewise, Dr. Thrace pounced upon her prey. Forkful after forkful of the sweetest, most decadent pie Eric had ever tasted found their way past Eric's parted lips.

"Mmmmffff....but...I'll get mmm...ffatttt!!!" Eric managed between mouthfuls.

"Shhhhhh....don't worry about that right now. Just enjoy your pie," Dr. Thrace dismissed with a whisper.

Briefly setting the half devoured apple pie to the side, Dr. Thrace began to explore the fruits of her labor. At first, as she put her hands on Eric's defined and bulky arms, Dr. Thrace seemed almost disappointed by the muscle tone and biceps that protruded from his workout attire. However, as she ran her freshly buffed and neatly painted nails down Eric's stomach, her initial frown crept upwards into the beginnings of a smile. Eric could tell that she was pleased at the paunch of softness already obfuscating Eric's once toned abdominal muscles.

"Not going to the gym as often these days, Eric?"

The changes to Eric's figure suddenly dawned on him. "How did...what was in that pie?!?"

"Butter, sugar, and lots of love," Dr. Thrace giggled as she blew Eric a kiss.

Eric attempted to rise from the couch, but was quickly pushed back into the cushions by Dr. Thrace with surprising strength.

"Oh no. You're not done," Dr. Thrace advised matter-of-factly. "You're done, when I say you're done."

And with that, Dr. Thrace resumed shoveling food into, quite literally, Eric's pie hole. Immediately, Eric felt a strange tingling sensation, as if his whole body were somehow changing. He knew he should stop. He knew he would be huge if he allowed Dr. Thrace to continue. Yet Eric could only muster, at best, a half-hearted attempt to clamp his mouth shut. Dr. Thrace, a master of her craft as a feeder, instantly sent her hands down Eric's belly until they found their way south clasped around his rock-hard shaft. Caught off guard, Eric cried out in pleasure. Dr. Thrace, taking advantage of Eric's momentary weakness, crammed the last quarter of the pie into one last heaping bite.

"Good boy, Eric. Good fat boy."

Afterwards, Dr. Thrace began to rub Eric's belly, almost as if it were a reward for good behavior. Eric closed his eyes, savoring the flavor of the pie and the touch of Dr. Thrace, which shot goosebumps prickling up and down his body. For a moment, Eric forgot about the consequences of his present course of indulgence. He didn't care about how fat he was getting. The only things that mattered were food and his feeder.

When Eric opened his eyes, the feelings of peaceful acceptance snapped back into alarm as he looked at himself in a mirror, which now hung from the wall. Eric was no longer chubby, Eric was fat. Very fat. But beyond that, he was many, many years younger. He wore a teenage mutant ninja turtle t-shirt equivalent in size to an adult large, which should've overflowed a small young boy. Yet Eric hadn't been a small boy growing up and neither was the reflection staring back. Eric gawked as he faced the overweight elementary school boy he had spent years toiling in the gym to banish.

"My, my, you really were a butter-ball growing up, weren't you, Eric? All that baby fat came right back!"

"What did you do!?! How is this possible?"

"I don't know. You're the one who gobbled down all of that pie. You tell me!" Dr. Thrace snickered. "Perhaps if you hadn't been so greedy, you wouldn't have let me plump you up into such a juicy little peach. Then again, we both know you enjoyed every second of it."

Turning away from the mirror and looking down at his body, Eric saw he was an adult once more, but no longer in his early twenties and still just as fat. He tried to run, but his legs were unaccustomed to carrying such a ponderous and doughy frame.

"Now, Eric, you're much too chubby to try and stop now," Dr. Thrace chastised. "But not to worry, I've baked you many more pies!"

Eric's eyes widened and filled with dread as he took in the sight of dozens of pies stacked in rows on a nearby desk, one on top of another.

"You're going to be so nice and fat when I'm done with you! Open up little piggy!"

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Eric gasped and rose up from the California king sized mattress, now back in the confines of his own bedroom. Stephanie, always the deep sleeper, remained unphased beside him, unaware of her husband's abrupt awakening. The couple's Great Dane, Duchess, who fancied herself a lap-dog despite being closer in size to a small horse, glanced over at Eric from the foot of the bed as if concerned.

"It's okay, Girl. It was just a bad....well...it was just a dream."

Had it been a dream? Had it been a nightmare? Was separating the two in this case a distinction without a difference? Eric couldn't say, but he knew that he had to get a handle on his fantasies soon. Before it was too late...