chapter 3

Without mirrors or clothing, he found it hard to gage his gain. He knew his belly stuck out more and more. His chest ballooned into man boobs. He couldn't keep from touching his fat and fattening body, stroking the curve of his gut and pinching his double chin.

And then something new happened. Bryant was dressed in a loin cloth and loaded onto a platform on the shoulders of six burly bearers. Eltham paced sedately next to him, explaining that this was the palace and they were on their way to the throne room.

The throne was not so much a chair as a bench. As he was deposited in it, Bryant began to consider the possibility that this was not a dream. It was an awfully long dream for starters. And a very detailed one. With a lot of boring parts. And now a lot of people, bowing down to him with joy on their faces. He scanned the crowd. No one looked like his high school classmates, his best buddies or his mom. No one looked familiar at all.

Oh shit, thought Bryant, what if this is real? He wanted to get up and run, but, well, there were those six burly guys standing by. He thought furiously as strange people with stranger names were presented to him. On the one hand, he was a captive. One other hand, these people clearly thought he was a king. And he was just starting to be able to communicate with them a bit. He needed more information, not to hare off. Besides, it had been a while since he'd done more than haul himself between the table and the toilet in the Bed Room. He wasn't sure he could run right now.

He waited until his platform was lowered at the door to his Bed Room. The burly guys stepped back, and Bryant levered himself up with a grunt and took off. He was soon panting and gasping, sweat pouring down his face. He risked a look back. A string of flunkies trailed him, clearly able to catch him but seemingly reluctant to manhandle him.

He caught his reflection in a mirrored wall and ground to a halt. Instead of his edge-of-plump self, he saw a fat man with a broad, wide belly, jiggling tits and a round face. He panted as he lifted and dropped his slightly overhanging gut. He had to have put on 50 pounds. He turned sideways and saw how far the arc of his belly protruded before him. Okay, more like 65, for sure.

A crowd of flunkies surrounded him and begged him to get back on the platform. Bryant collapsed onto it, still trying to catch his breath.
Back in the Bed Room, Eltham was pacing anxiously.

"Where... this?" Bryant got out. His heart was still pounding from his run.

"Elotheria. You are the king," said Eltham slowly. "Get big, bring... prezurbleblatz."

"Get big, huh," said Bryant, patting his swelling paunch.

"Big is good," said Eltham, smiling wildly.

"Big is good," sighed Bryant. "I get it," he added in English as he waddled over to the table. "But if you guys are fattening me up to eat me, that is NOT GOOD."

"Eat, eat!" said Eltham, miming chewing.

"Not reassuring, man."

The food lulled him into a sense of security. It felt so good to be full, stuffed, massive. Bryant gave himself over to the meal.