Chapter 3 - ch 2 gluttony in bed continued

After a short while, she sighs sweetly, then pulls me off to one side by again tugging gently on my soft love handles. I flop over on my back, my rounded belly rising and falling like a pleasure dome above the rest of my body. I am gasping from over-exertion, totally out of breath.

My energy is gone. I am a wasted man, breathing hard now and unable to move. I used to have more stamina than this, but my upper body muscles and my arms, my thighs as well, are so tired and sore now. I have gotten soft and weak and chubby in just a short time. How long has it been since she welcomed me to her table that first night?
Has it been two weeks? Four weeks? More? My thoughts fade as my belly gurgles a message of desire, a melody of hunger, a song of love -- love for food, more and more food resulting in more and more fattening.

My belly grows each day, and its song grows deeper and louder. I open my eyes and turn my head, and Circe is on her side, up on her elbow next to me, and she lovingly smiles at me. My eyes trace the curves of her breasts and hips.

"I like a skinny boy who can't wait for the next meal I am preparing for him," she says, patting my growling belly. "You are not very big." She pauses, adding, "Not yet. I will take good care of you, I will serve you and spoil you." She is looking at my belly now, and I wonder if she is speaking to me or to my globular gut. "I will be back soon with more food to feed you. In the meantime . . . "

Her words fade as she pulls the tray of remaining brownies and crumbs onto the mattress and within my reach. Even as tired as I am, my hands move to the goodies like fleshy creatures over which I have no control.. My hands come to my mouth full of brownies. I open my mouth, and I eat.

My mouth salivates as she stands beside the bed and turns away, still naked as the warm morning light pours into the window and onto her flawless figure. I grunt like an animal at the sight of her smooth fine back, her long flowing hair, her strong thighs, thin waist and shapely bottom swaying seductively out the door. I no longer know if I'm salivating for her touch or for the stuffing which I eagerly anticipate.

Which appetite is bigger now? I wonder. I glance down at my distended belly, glistening with sweat and moving up and down rapidly as I try to catch my breath. At the same time, I stuff brownies in as fast as my rapid breathing will allow.

I resign myself to my fate. I know I can do nothing but stuff myself as I await for her return with fried eggs, biscuits and gravy, pancakes, fried apples and hash brown potatoes, butter, jellies, maple syrup, honey and jams.

I try to think about the time before I came here, but hunger overpowers all thoughts. I cannot move my body at all. I am worn out. I can no longer even consider escaping. I am so out of shape and out of breath. How could I possibly ever escape? Do I even want to leave now? No, I only want to eat! I snort loudly as I draw in deep breaths after swallowing the last of the brownie crumbs.

I ponder how lazy I've gotten, my growing body, how heavy I feel, how easily tired. I'm really getting fat, I tell myself. This is not a dream! I try to scream, but instead I make what sounds like a hoggish squeal of joy. What a strange sound, like a pig on my farm back home! Back home? I start to fret, having trouble remembering anything. Where is my home? What is happening to me? I have little time to consider any of this because . . .

I now smell cinnamon, mixed with honey and butter, as I hear the popping sound of apples frying on the woodstove griddle in the kitchen nearby. And I smell buttermilk pancakes, one of Circe's special recipes. I hear her singing. It is the same song I heard that first night, the beautiful song which drew me to her, into this gluttonous new life. I don't understand the words, but I feel love and tenderness in this melody, and sensual desires in the rhyme, rhythm and sound of these verses.

My mind empties as the spicy aroma of biscuits and gravy overpowers me. All thoughts of my former life fade away. My worries about growing fat are like the embers of last night's fire, slowly going out. I can think of nothing now but eating.

I squeal again, like a hungry little pig now, waiting for its trough to be filled -- or rather for its belly to be filled. I am becoming a hog with desires no more complicated than being well-fed and well-bedded. I am no longer a man yearning for something more wholesome and healthy, for freedom from temptation, for liberty from Circe's spell. I am but a beast now with beastly appetites!

I have no longing for any other life. I have no longing for my former strength, for my lost slenderness, for my firm muscles now buried beneath flab and turning into mush as the brownies in my stomach turn into ravenous fat cells.

I long only for my mistress Circe to return and feed me once more.

(To be continued)