Chapter 9 - part ix

The dynamic of Sarah's imprisonment hadn't been the same since that night, since she'd started trying to win Gryselda over. The bars of unbending steel that caged her for months were gone, as if they never were, by the time that first meal was over. She never even saw the witch do any magic to make them disappear. The room with the many pillows, too, was gone; the house had taken on the same dimensions as from the first dream where 'Gretel' let the witch pamper her.

Every meal was now eaten at the table, in the comfortable chair. Often, Gryselda would feed at least a few bites to Sarah by hand. Very often, the witch would pinch, pat, and rub on Sarah while she ate, particularly her tummy which actually seemed to help her digest and eat more. Breakfast was ready every morning when the witch gently woke Sarah. All the other meals were prepared right in front of her; sometimes she even helped the witch prepare the meal that was meant to continue fattening her.

Sarah told the witch about her life, one meal, one story at a time. Gryselda knew most of what had happened in those few months at college, but she listened intently to all the anecdotes Sarah had to offer of her childhood and high school years. The witch told a few stories of her own, but they were from another, unspecified time and far off in Europe somewhere.

At night, a few times, the witch settled down beside Sarah and the two curled up together. Sarah laid on her back, Gryselda nestled in beside her and pawing her softly. The witch was always gone in the morning, and breakfast was always waiting.

...

It wasn't two months later that Sarah found the big, wide wooden chair to be oddly tight. The morning began much like all the ones before except that when she sat down for breakfast, there wasn't any. The table was bare except for a large hand-mirror.

Gryselda stood behind her captive and held up the mirror, letting Sarah see the profound changes in her appearance, even compared to her voluptuous state as of a few months ago. Sarah could see, as the witch emphasized each part of her, that she was now much, much heavier than before.

'I'm not entirely certain, but I think you are at least twice as big as when you found my book.' The witch purred with satisfaction. 'I say I'm not certain, because you could be a little bigger than that.'

The witch patted Sarah's substantial, round stomach as it rested intently on her lap; her lap, itself, was formed of two Christmas-ham-thighs that were each as big around as her waist was at the start of college. Her wide hips framed a backside that was every bit as fat and as delightful as her belly; the two parts were connected by a thick side roll, a spare tire that lived up to the name. Her breasts were at least two full sizes fuller than they had been. Her fingers and hands were plump as a baby's, her upper arms were little pillows.

At the bottom of her face was a little, petite chin, the last vestige of the thin girl she used to be. That little chin was surrounded by pudge that settled heavily from her big cheeks down to her thickened neck. Where her face had been adorably cherubic before, now it was just as cute but overflowing with piggish fat.

The thought occurred to Sarah that she was exactly that: piggish.

The thought also occurred that her time was up.

'As you can see my darling Gretel, where you were plump... plump... plump...' Gryselda patted Sarah's tummy as she whispered to her, making the frightened girl blush. 'Now you've gotten nice and fat... fat... fat...'

The witch leaned in to kiss Sarah full on the lips as she sat the mirror down on the table.

'In fact, you have every desirable quality. You're funny, sweet, amenable, pretty, and you've fattened up nicely. It makes it very hard to decide what to do with you.' Said the witch, thoughtfully.

'Please, don't eat me...' Pleaded Sarah in whisper. 'I thought we were getting to be friends...'

'We are friends.' Said Gryselda, definitively.

'I thought we were getting to be... I thought we were... are... Aren't you my girlfriend?' Sarah asked, admitting her feelings to herself as much as to the witch. 'I don't even like girls! But I love you! I want to be with you!'

'And I love you too, my sweet, chubby piglet. But I thought you wanted to go back to your life.' Said Gryselda.

'I do... But you're part of my life. I want you to visit me in my world. I want to love you... without all this wondering, this fear. I want you to be mine, I want to be yours, I want you to love me and take care of me... but I don't want you to kill me!' Sarah's face was stained with streaming tears.

'And I want to sink my teeth into a nice... fat... young woman... and savor her tender, juicy flesh.' Gryselda sounded as if she were talking about filet mignon from a nice restaurant while she pinched a fold of Sarah's heavy waist.

'Please, Gryselda...' Sarah begged. 'Hold me... kiss me... love me... feed me and pamper me... but don't eat me!'

'I told you I'd make a decision when you'd grown big enough, and there is no way to deny that you have...' The witch sighed, the weighty decision clearly overwhelming her. She pinched Sarah's hip, stuck somewhat in the side of the chair. 'I have decided...'