chapter 3

Peter stood at the front door, adjusting his uncomfortably tight collar. He was feeling self conscious about the fact that he couldn’t button his jacket around his middle, which was especially disappointing because it was a new one he’d bought because none of the old ones fit. The door opened.

“Peter, I am so happy to see you,” exclaimed his Aunt May. “Why didn’t you just let yourself in?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt, in case you had a hot date going on in here, or something,” Peter said, smiling.

“Oh, Peter!” Aunt May hugged Peter, then held him by the shoulders at arm’s length. “Just look at you. You’re no longer the skinny little boy I always worried about so much. Look how… healthy you look now.”

She smiled at him, and Peter could tell that her smile held no malice, no other hidden meaning, other than exactly what she had said. Peter glanced down at the large paunch of his belly, which hid the view of his belt from him – not to mention his feet.

“Well, let’s not stand around out here, come in!” Peter’s Aunt led them through the living room and into the dining area. “I’ve made a meal for us, but it’s not very much.”

Peter smiled to himself. “It wouldn’t be wheat cakes, would it?” he asked, then added, “yours are my favorite, Aunt May.”

“As a matter of fact, I did make wheat cakes! Why don’t you make yourself comfortable and I’ll bring them out.”

Peter sat down at the table. Two places had been set. Since his break-up with Mary Jane, Peter had been visiting his Aunt almost every Sunday. Maybe, Peter thought, the frequency of their visits was why his Aunt didn’t seem to notice how much weight he’d been putting on.

“Here you go, dear.”

Aunt May returned with a plate piled high. It seemed that, since Peter had started putting on weight, she’d been increasing the size of the stack. She must have recognized the increase in his appetite. Peter’s mouth watered as she placed the plate in front of him.

“And, of course, real maple syrup,” she said, pouring the thick, rich liquid over the butter-drenched wheat cakes.

“Thank you, Aunt May,” Peter said, before digging in with his knife and fork.

Aunt May sat, added a dollop of syrup onto the two wheat cakes on her plate, and delicately began cutting them with her fork. She ate daintily, with a slow, methodical rhythm, while her nephew consumed his meal with gusto. May was pleased. Growing up it seemed such a challenge to get Peter to eat anything, She used to say he ate like a bird. To see him gobble his meals like this made her feel as though he’d grown out of those old habits. To hear his pleasurable groans, showing how much he enjoyed the food, only made it all the better.

May finished her two wheat cakes in the same amount of time it took Peter to finish ten. They both sat back contentedly.

“Well, I must say, I am stuffed,” May said, patting her flat stomach. “There’s another stack of those in the kitchen, Peter. If you like, I can wrap them up and you can take them home with you.”

Peter’s eyes seemed to brighten. “Oh, just bring them out, Aunt May, I’ll have them right now. They are delicious!”

Aunt May smiled as she stood and returned to the kitchen to fetch Peter’s second course.

#

Peter felt like a human balloon as he left Aunt May’s house.

“I love you, Peter. Thank you so much for coming!”

“Love you, too, Aunt May. See you next week,” he replied, waving.

Peter trudged to the subway, rubbing the sides of his very full, bloated, and slightly aching stomach. As if the huge meal wasn’t enough, he surely didn’t need to stuff himself with those cookies and brownies afterward.

He was so happy to have a free seat on the subway, to rest and digest. He didn’t even notice how his hips and ass were spilling out over onto the seat next to him, taking up half of that seat, too. By the time he got near home and looked at his watch, he realized it was almost dinner time. Passing by Sol’s, one of his favorite local restaurants, he figured he’d better get some take out to save a trip later. When he finished placing his order for four entrees and a half dozen appetizers, the waitress asked him if he was having a dinner party. He nodded nervously, blushing at the embarrassment of his appetite, knowing there wouldn’t be any leftovers.