chapter 5

The remainder of the drive to your home was uneventful, and fortunately short since you happened to live not far from the supermarket.

“Well, here we are! I’ll help you carry in your groceries,” the woman brightly offered without leaving room for argument; in a flash she had parked the car, unbuckled herself, and was out heading towards the open trunk.

Sweating (from the heat, but mostly from the thought of this woman being in your home) your fatty fingers fumble to unlatch the constricting seatbelt. Even when undone, due to your life of binging leaving you a mass of love handles, the seatbelt doesn’t immediately slide back into place, you need to force it over your fat shoulders to guide it back to its resting area.

Now it’s your turn to exit the car; it’s still a snug job (these fancy car doors really are too small), but after you do free yourself from the vehicle you waddle back to the trunk.

Immediately the woman shoves several bags in your arms, leaving only two for herself to carry. You hear rather than see the trunk close, and then it is time to head to your front door.

Before you can, the woman stops in front of you to glance at your house and neighborhood. Your house is nothing special, not particularly large, actually kind of small if you stopped to think about it. But the only thought you put into buying your house was the location and cost; location: in the city, near food suppliers, but also with few neighbors she didn’t have to talk to much if at all; cost: incredibly cheap, which for someone like you who didn’t have a job was perfect, and meant you could continue to live off of your late parents’ incredible wealth for many years to come—meaning you can spend it mostly on food, of course.

“Such a...cozy place,” says the woman. “Quiet.”

“Yeah...” you mumble in return.

The woman nods then continues the short walk to your door, with you waddling behind, arms stuffed.

When she stops, you stop. She turns around to face you and starts to step to the side as she says, “I’ll let you unlock the...oh, I’m sorry, you can’t can you? You’ve got all those bags, and you definitely don’t want to risk dropping any of your delicious goodies by struggling to get your keys, right? No worries, I’ll take care of it for you!”

Before you can protest she’s already stepping forward and sliding a hand into your left pocket. Your keys aren’t in that pocket, something that would have been readily apparent, but she continues prodding her fingers against the sides of the pocket—feeling the meat on your hips and thighs. She does the same exact thing inside your other pocket, though since the keys are in there it doesn’t last as long.

“Got ‘em! Now, let’s get you and your treats inside, shall we?” And then she swiftly opens up your door and guides you in first, then she enters and shuts the door behind her.

You gulp as you hear the lock click shut.