Happy birthday, baby

chapter 3

I eat like a normal person while our friends stuff you. After the meatballs come potato wedges from our Dungeon Master, wine from Madelyn, and frito pie from that woman in your book club whose name I can never remember. When you finish half a bottle of the moscato, Madelyn switches you to chocolate milk in your My Little Pony sippy cup. You drink the thick liquid deeply before a chocolate covered strawberry is shoved into your mouth by a college friend. The hard chocolate coating cracks and about half of it drops into your lap.

Instinctively, she goes to wipe it off, but you, good girl that you are, shake your head. Your friend seems embarrassed to have forgotten a rule so quickly, and to compensate, she shoves another strawberry in your mouth.

And another.

And another.

This continues until half the strawberries on the table are in your belly and someone from the back of the lines calls out for her to give everyone else a turn. I laugh and continue to watch.

After your little belly pops out even more between your shirt and shorts, I come over, cutting the line. “How are you doing, little girl?” I ask. You open your mouth to answer, and I put an entire meatloaf-and-mashed-potato cupcake in your mouth. “I don’t care,” I say. “Now chew and swallow like a good girl.”
You moan in discomfort at the fake cupcake taking up so much space in your mouth, you can barely chew. I taunt you, telling you I can’t understand you with your mouth full. After a minute or two, you manage to swallow part of the cupcake. So I follow it up with a loaded potato.

“She’s probably thirsty,” Madelyn points out.

“You’re right,” I say, reaching for the sippy cup. I pop the mouthpiece between your lips and tip the cup so the chocolate milk starts to flow into your full mouth. You moan again, but I still don’t care. “If you finish your milk, I’ll unbutton your top button,” I promise, stabbing your top little button. You make more noise–and even more when I give your sippy cup to Madelyn to refill. I laugh. “I didn’t mean your sippy cup, you silly girl. I meant the whole carton.”

You try to keep your mouth closed when Madelyn comes back, but between the two of us, we get it in your mouth. I don’t let up until you’ve chugged the cup.

“You know what?” I tell Madelyn. “Just bring the carton.”

Your eyes are watering by the time you’ve finished it all. You gasp for breath. I feed you a forkful of frito pie and button your top button while you chew. A little more of your belly pops out, gives you more space for food. Imploringly, you look up at the next person in line. It’s your childhood best friend, who’s absolutely massive. We’ve always suspected he’s the reason for your fetish.

“I’m full, Will,” you tell him.

He laughs a deep belly laugh at you. “Bitch, no you aren’t!” he says, then shoves a generous scoop of straight seven-layer dip into your mouth. No chips, nothing but straight dip. It gives me an idea.

In their infinite creativity, someone brought a half-gallon tub of full-fat cottage cheese and another tub of full-fat plain yoghurt. I choose the cottage cheese and patiently wait for my turn.

I watch friend after friend stuff you full of all kinds of fattening things: butterscotch pudding, greasy pizza, meatballs, dip, and more. Madelyn, meanwhile, has switched you back to moscato, and you’re getting a bit tipsy.

“Daddy,” you say when it’s my turn.

“Yes, baby?”

“My belly really hurts.”

I reach out and undo the second button of your shorts, letting your belly tumble out an inch farther. I rub your exposed belly tenderly. “I bet it does, baby.”

“Can we be done now?” you ask.

I laugh. “No, baby. Not unless you safeword.”

Your pride will prevent you from safe-wording until you get really and truly desperate. I know that, and you know that.

I hold the cottage cheese container in one hand and a giant serving spoon in the other. “Open wide,” I command.