chapter 1

Walking -- or rather waddling -- down the street, munching on a peanut butter and chocolate chip cookie, Delly idly pulled downwards on her light pink t-shirt that kept sliding up over her considerably plump belly. She knew it was a hopeless cause, this shirt had trouble properly fitting her three months ago, and Delly knew she had gained at least fifty (if not more; she didn't care to keep count) pounds by now, so really, what was the point?

Releasing the cotton material caused it to completely ride up, stopping almost directly beneath her breasts. After taking the last bite of her cookie, Delly licked the crumbs from around her mouth and moaned happily, before a frown overcame her rosy lips. She was out of cookies -- she needed to find more cookies.

So caught up trying to remember all the bakeries in town, Delly failed to notice the immovable fact that she had stopped dead right in the middle of the sidewalk. The only thing that snapped her to attention was when she felt a sudden sharp poke in her massive posterior.

"Ouch!" Delly squealed, both hands immediately reaching back and grabbing a hold of her behind, to tenderly rub the pained area through the thin material of her yoga pants. She whipped around to see who had done it, the action causing her big belly to jiggle.

Standing there with a cranky expression was a little old lady, cane in hand. Behind her wiry glasses the past seventy year old watched the jiggling fatty flesh with unamused eyes, and raised her cane in a threatening manner.

"Out of the way Porky, other people have places to go too, you know -- although in your case it looks like the only place you're headed is the butcher's, with that pork belly of yours," she snapped, and gave said pork belly a couple rough prods, which caused it to jiggle even more.

Delly swatted the cane away and protectively grabbed her stomach. Her fingers sunk into the soft rolls. A pout was on her plump lips as she glared at the rude woman.

"My name isn't Porky, it's Delly! And I'm sorry, but I ran out of cookies and--"

"And now Porky wants some more goodies to fatten herself up with?" the old woman sneered. "To make yourself even more plump and juicy than you already are, so that when the big bad wolf comes to blow your house down he gobbles you up right away?"

".......you say the scariest things, lady," Delly shivered, not enjoying the thought of being a tasty meal for a hungry wolf....or a piece of meat in the butcher shop, for that matter.

A nasty grin appeared on the old woman's face. "Don't act as if you've never heard such things before, Porky," she admonished, wagging a bony finger and leering at the younger (and a couple of hundred pounds fatter) woman. "I certainly can't be the first person to note your resemblance to a big fat farm sow, bred and raised only to end up roasted on the dinner table, a large juicy apple jutting tantalizing out of her mouth. Mmm, my mouth is watering at the thought of it..."

She licked her thin lips, still eyeing up the fat girl. "What did you say your name was--Delly? What a fitting name, if it stands for 'delicious'--with a capital D!" She licked her lips again. "You know, I grew up on a farm...."

Alright, that's it, Delly had heard enough; time to say goodbye to the creepy and rude woman.

"I'm gonna leave now. Bye," she told the old lady shortly, and started turning away. But before she could take another step, Delly felt bony fingers digging into her plushy arm.

"Hold it right there Por--I mean, Delly. I haven't told you where the best bakery in town is yet."

Though her first instinct was to get the old woman off her as soon as possible, the tempting mention of a bakery, meaning desserts, meaning more cookies, gave her pause. For the moment, she would ignore the way the old woman was feeling up the fat on her arm, pinching and poking and stroking; cookies were more important.

"So where is it?" Delly asked, mouth already watering at the tantalizing treats awaiting her.

The old woman smirked. Her fingers still dug into Delly's arm. "Cutler Street, about five blocks from here. Oh," she tsked. "That's too far for Porky to waddle, isn't it?"

Delly absently nodded, too consumed with lust for pastries to notice the use of the hated nickname. "That is really far....."

"Well don't you worry, Porky, I'll call us a taxi," the old woman grinned. She released Delly's arm, only to give her a nice firm tap on the rear, which the very far girl didn't like at all. But, she figured she'd put up with it until the promised cookies were melting in her mouth.