chapter 1 invited to the table

I am lost. I have wandered down a dark narrow pathway here to a house in a little clearing in the woods. The full moon's rays of light play across the trees and underbrush then shine upon the cottage.

I see a light in the window, bidding me to approach. I walk with long deliberate steps, drawn like a moth to the flame. I hear a woman singing. I don't understand the words, but they pull me onward. Her song is so sweet and so charming, it makes me hurry my pace toward her house.

Just then, I smell something so heavenly delicious, my belly rumbles a little. I have not eaten for quite some time, and I've been lost on this road since before the sun went down. I can smell the simmering sauces from the cottage's kitchen, the pastas cooking, the pies baking, the chocolate, the vanilla flavorings, the oregano, the garlic, the spices. The combining smell seduces me to her doorway.

Before I can even knock, she opens the door, and I see her there, so full of life and love, in a gown which drapes her strong voluptuous figure. I am a stranger at her door. The corners of her full dark-red lips turn up, and I am stunned by her beauty, unable to move even. I feel her warmth, her desire, a fever no aspirin or cool stream can cool. I see it in her enchanting eyes as the moonlight shines within them.

Though I am a stranger at her door, she warmly welcomes me in with a wide smile upon her thick full lips. "My name is Circe," she says in a breathy seductive voice. "And you?" she starts to ask my name but then quickly adds, "Well, it doesn't matter what your name is. You will become my sweet piglet."

I wonder what she means as she glances up and down at my slender, muscular body. I look at her puzzled and start to protest her words and question her. But Circe stops me, placing her sweet finger upon my lips.

"Yes, you are all bones now," she says. "You need some fattening up, my boy."

I feel I can't resist her in anyway. Her words are so curious to me. I feel like I'm in a dream. I know I don't want to be fattened up, not even by a beautiful woman like Circe. And yet I open my mouth to speak in what seems like a voice other than my own, "Yes, I need some softness to cover these bones. Won't you feed me, Circe?"

I try to stop up my mouth with my fists as these words spill out, but I can't do it. My hands are locked at my sides.

And I feel a great hunger welling inside me, the aroma from the kitchen hits me again, and suddenly I want to eat. "I can't resist you," I mutter in a small voice.

"Aww," Circe says, giggling softly. "I can't resist you either." She then looks me up and down, like a farmer evaluating an animal he's considering buying at the livestock auction. "But I don't like bones on a man," she adds. "Boniness in bed is not a desirable quality."

I nod in agreement, I know not why. Why does my head nod as she speaks? I am puzzled that I should feel this way. I try to take back my passive agreement by to her, by telling her no. But once again, when I open my mouth, the words seem not my own. "You may get bruised if I am too bony," I say. "And I don't want you getting hurt from my sharp bones, so fatten me, Circe. Feed me and make me yours."

"Well, then come this way." She leads me to her kitchen like I'm on an invisible leash, a little pet following its dark-haired mistress.

"I love the feel of a huge fat belly upon my body in bed," she whispers seductively in my ear as I sit at her immense table in a chair way too large for any man I have ever seen - too large even for the fat man at the carnival.

And she begins bringing out her foods - Italian cooking, pastas of great variety, smothered with sauces and cheeses, her double ovens are full still, baking for me chocolate cakes, cookies and pastries. Cheesecakes are cooling on the counter. The aromas overwhelm me to the point where I feel I might swoon. But my hands move toward the utensils and the large full wineglass with an eagerness all their own. I cannot stop my fingers from feeding me.

"You need just a little encouragement to grow fat and round and huge for me," she says, delightfully watching as I begin to stuff myself madly. She keeps tempting me to gluttony with the smells and tastes of so many delicious exotic foods. She brings warm bread to the table and slices it, then slathers each piece with a garlic butter spread.

Pan full after pan full of lasagna slide into me effortlessly as my belly begins to bulge obscenely over the waistband of my jeans. And loaf after loaf of warm sweet soft breads are buttered by her small tender hands as I watch her gleeful but determined face with my own private and silent horror.

Circe brings platter after platter to the huge table. She pours me glassful after glassful of her homemade blackberry wine. She prepares so much me alone - for one tall slender stranger trapped by her charms. The feast weighs the table down so much that I think I can almost hear it groaning under the vast weight of the pastas and desserts and wine bottles. But suddenly I realize this sound is coming from me, that I am groaning and moaning in pleasure from all this deliciousness as she strokes my hair tenderly.

"Mmmm," I moan in a deep throaty sound, an animalistic groan which does not sound like my voice at all. Rather, it sounds like something foreign and unknown deep inside of me, a bit wicked and hedonistic, a sound so self-indulgent, so pleasure-seeking.

I have fallen under Circe's spell.

I couldn't resist if I wanted to. And at first, I do want to resist this decadence, this gluttony. I want to get up from this huge chair, leave this fattening feast and run away from her cottage. I try to speak above my groaning and grunting as I eat. "I ...grunt...don't want to be ... mmm... fat," I say to Circe in grunting out-of-breath words.

"Ohhhh?" she says coyly, her green-blue eyes lighting upon my bulging waistline. "I think you do." She pats my midsection with love or lust - I can't tell which.

I try to speak but can only now grunt, my mouth filled with lasagna, sauce dripping down my face.

"Oh, how adorable you are," Circe whispers with an excited deep-throated tone as she leans over to kiss my face, licking off the sauce. "What a cute piggy you will be!"

I struggle to get out of the chair, but her spell holds me in place. I try to keep my hands from reaching for more and more chocolate cake, cheesecake and warm chocolate chip cookies, but I cannot stop myself. I try to scream to refuse her frightening hospitality, but each time my mouth opens to speak, I fill it once again.

In a matter of minutes, I become absolutely gluttonous in response to all this tasty food. I feel pleasure at the taste, at the smell of all this bread, pasta and desserts, and even greater pleasure at the feeling of fullness as the skin around my waist stretches. Feeling myself ballooning, I look down in horror - with my mouth full, no less - to see the beginnings of a little round belly bulging out from my otherwise slim body.

And the snare is tripped, and I am trapped here unable to leave of my own accord. I realize that Circe will seduce me to stuff myself until I am huge, that she will tempt me into a life of massive tubbiness I do not want.

At least not at first, at least not right now. Right now, I must eat and not think about it so much.

(Coming soon: Chapter 2 "Gluttony in Bed")