chapter 1 - results

*Her piglet squirmed, "No‐n-no more, p-please..."
Her captor tilted her head back once again and poured into the funnel, unphased by her pleas. She smacked the little piglet's stomach, testing its limits and leaving a red mark.
She wasn't nearly full enough.*

Daisy scribbled down in her journal, killing time with her secret fantasy before her follow-up appointment. Her partner, Ash, was on the couch tying up her boots for the drive. It wasn't anything serious, Daisy would tell herself, just some unexpected lethargy, feelings of exhaustion after work or cleaning the house. Ash fussed over Daisy to make the appointments, and there was no way she'd ever say no to her.

"What you working on, sweetie?" Ash jumped up, and placed a hand on the back of Daisy's chair, "Can I read it?"

Embarrassed, Daisy shuffled papers over her book, "Uhhh, it's not finished! And this one's a little different from the others, babe." She slouched further down into her chair and spoke quieter, "I'm afraid you'll think I'm weird."

"I already think you're weird, but that's why I love you," she kissed her neck, then grabbed the keys from the desk. "I wanna read it after we get back from the doctor, I promise I won't make fun, but we're gonna be late."

********

Daisy was called in fairly quickly from the waiting room. Not knowing the length of the wait, Ash volunteered to pick up dinner for a Daisy whose stomach cared not for where she was. The doctor was a woman in her late-fifties, only a surprise to Daisy, because it wasn't her usual physician.

"Hello, Daisy, my name is Doctor Rivera, I'm a specialist over at the hospital." She extended a hand and motioned her to sit.

"I hate to cut right to the bad news, Daisy, but I have no easy way to say it. As you might have guessed, your test results confirmed some of your Doctor's suspicions, which is why I'm here." She checked her clipboard before continuing, "You have a rare genetic condition called Producing Inactive Glycogen Syndrome; there have been less than 450 documented cases," she paused, taking her glasses off. "It is in no way terminal, but unfortunately there is no cure. Your body simply can no longer extract energy from fat."

There was an awkward silence before Daisy worked up the nerve to speak, fighting tears, "What are the side effects? A-am I gonna get fat or what's g-gonna happen to me?" She closed her eyes, shaking and unable to prevent her crying.

"Well, there haven't been that many cases, but it has manifested in different ways in different people," the Doctor once again checked her notes, "Some individuals gain, some gain very little if kept on a controlled diet. There are rarer symptoms that have occurred in 1-2% of patients: complete loss of endurance, increased appetite, memory loss, hallucinations, personality—” Daisy opened her eyes to the Doctor trailing off, but was unable to focus beyond the burning salt in her eyes. This couldn’t be the explanation, it couldn't be! None of it yet seemed real to her.

"—however, lethargy is a symptom that generally does not lessen. There is medication and short-term treatment that *can* help, but this is a rare condition, and we simply don't know enough. What we do know is that you will never weigh less than 139.6 pounds."

********

Daisy left with a couple prescriptions and a list of ingredients for new food kits. Her doctor urged her to make quarterly appointments to monitor progression, but Daisy still needed time to process what had just happened. How was she supposed to change everything in her life so fast? She looked over the list, biting her thumb as she waited outside for Ash, but none of the ingredients seemed familiar. While she wasn’t a habitually bad eater, she loved food: the experiences it took her on, the spark of joy from a forkful of Ash’s chicken alfredo melting onto her tongue. Licking ice cream as it melted off the cone as Ash teased her messy face...

This was not real.

No food!? It certainly wasn’t this garbage the Doctor suggested. She had never heard of any disease like this, no, this quack had to have made it up, what else could it be? She never had a problem eating what she wanted before, and she was only beginning to work up the nerve to tell Ash about her fetish, and now she couldn’t even escape into stuffing? What was the damn point of it all?

No. This fatigue had to be from stress.

Beep beep!

Ash pulled up in her truck, her long black hair flowing behind her, "The appointment go okay? I got us a four cheese pizza and a cookie cake, girl!"

"Oh y-yeah, everything’s fine. I just gotta take medication for a bit to sort it out." She slammed the door and melted cheese met her lips, "Mmmmm, thanks babe, you're a lifesaver!"