chapter 2

The door opened once more. An older, but still slight, man bowed low as he entered. He pointed at Bryant, who was still sitting on his plump haunches, and said, "King!"

"Oh! Sorry!" said Bryant as he struggled to rise. The soft surface wasn't easy to walk on, like sand. He kept sinking down. Finally he bowed back, wishing that he wasn't naked in this dream. Clearly he was having a dream. I must have fallen and bumped my head, he thought. Yes. That's what this is.

A look of mild distress came onto the face of the man across from him, who bowed again, lower this time.

"King," he said, pointing at Bryant, then at himself. "Eltham."

"Uh, I'm Bryant."

The man's eyes lit, and he called out in the same incomprehensible language. He motioned Bryant to sit back down. He did so in awkward silence.

Soon a stream of red-clad flunkies entered the room, setting up a low table in front of Bryant, then heaping it high with steaming fragrant dishes.

Eltham sat, not across from him at the table, but a respectful distance away. He said something sounded like "yethinra" and waved a hand. Bryant decided this probably meant "eat." There were no utensils. Bryant's tummy rumbled again. He picked up a bowl of soup and slurped at it. It was tangy and clear, sliding down easily. Next he tackled a pile of meat dumplings, popping them into his mouth one after another. Sweet curds, skewers of meat, delicately sliced veggies, a savoury pie - everything was unfamiliar yet delicious. Bryant ate as if he hadn't seen food in a hundred years, grease spilling down his chin and onto his chest. He ate until his belly was grossly distended, packed full.

He leaned back, puffing, and reclined onto the bed-like floor. His eyes closed as he cradled his taut gut, rubbing it gently. He burped. He heard the sounds of dishes being cleared away as he drowsed. A warm washcloth woke him, swiped gently over his body by a diffident flunky.
Bryant struggled to his feet and mimed relieving himself. The flunky let him to a spot on wall that, when tapped, caused a bowl to pop out. Bryant used it and then settled back down on the soft surface.

When he awoke, light was streaming into the room from a slew of high windows. There was a table laden with dishes. Bryant crawled over to it, feeling surprisingly hungry. While he munched on divine flaky pastries, Eltham pointed out objects and named them in his strange language. Bryant repeated the words in between bites. He stopped only when he reached the cusp of painfully full, his belly rounded and hard.

So the time went. Food, sleep, language lessons, more food.
This is a good dream, thought Bryant. He'd always loved to eat. He'd fantasized sometimes about getting fatter, so fat he'd waddle, so fat he'd have to turn sideways to squeeze through doors. He'd struggled to keep his weight down so as not to face revulsion from girls and taunts from guys. But here, in the dream, he could fulfill his feeding fantasy.