Chapter 1

"Here Tom, have some more green beans," urged Mrs. Castello, Shannon's mother.

I glanced over at her, seated to my right. My wife of 7 years, beautiful and blonde. If her mother Grace was any indication, she would age quite gracefully. I was brown-haired and 5'10" to her 5'7", about 165 pounds to her 130. As I let Mrs. Castello fill up my plate again with not only green beans, but also more potatoes and pot roast, I reflected that I may be closer to 170 by the time we left.

"Everything is so wonderful," I complimented our hostess. "I'm happy that Shannon inherited your skill at cooking."

"You'd never know it from how thin you are," she replied in a mock scold.

I glanced over at Shannon again, she looked at me thoughtfully.

"Yes," Shannon mused. "Tell me again why it is that you have a 32 inch waist if I'm such a good cook."

I almost choked on my potatoes. This was certainly coming out of no where. I worked out regularly, as did Shannon , to maintain my good shape. Never had she said anything in the slightest to indicate that she'd prefer otherwise.

"Um, I guess it's a combination of good genes and a healthy lifestyle."

She kept looking at me with a thoughtful expression.

"What?" I mumbled through a mouthful of potatoes. It looked like she was sizing up a cut of prime rib and it was making me uncomfortable.

"Nothing," she replied. "Just sorta wondering what you'd look like with a few more pounds."

Fortunately, the dinner conversation changed to where my father-in-law currently was on business. I, being a good son-in-law, obediently cleaned my plate a second time. I stifled a belch as I drained the last of my iced tea, suddenly aware that the waistband of my slacks were quite snug. This was certainly a much bigger portion that I usually ate and I felt pretty bloated.

"Let's go sit in the living room while the pie cools and the ice creams softens," suggested Grace.

As I stood I hiccupped sharply, pressing a hand to my aching abdomen.

"I don't think I'll have room for dessert," I murmured.

"Sure you will," Shannon whispered in my ear. "In fact, you might have seconds of that too."

I followed her into the living room, wondering what kind of game she was playing and how I could avoid losing it. Sitting down on the couch, I half dozed for the next half hour as mother and daughter chatted away.Just when I was starting to get past the uncomfortably stuffed feeling Grace announced it was time for blueberry pie a la mode.

We filed back into the kitchen, and despite my protests I was served a large piece of pie with two scoops of ice cream. It was homemade, and thus delicious, but quickly took up the little available room in my stomach. True to her word, Shannon did indeed serve me seconds. Fortunately the second helping was only half the size of the first but it was still difficult to get it all down.

"How was everything?" Grace asked.

I was puffing for breath, flushed and drowsy. "It was *hic* fantastic," I said.

My white polo shirt was quite snug around my noticeably rounded stomach. Shannon had that same thoughtful look on her face as she gazed at me.

"Well, it's getting late and we have to work tomorrow. Thanks for everything Mom, tell Dad we missed him."

As we walked (well, I waddled) out to the car I handed Shannon the keys.

"You want me to drive?" she asked.

"Yes," I gasped.

"Why?"

I stifled a belch as we reached the car. "I don't feel so great."

"Aw, poor hun. Too much to eat? We'll get you some Alka-Seltzer when we get home. That should help your upset tummy."

I grunted as I lowered myself into the passenger seat, my overfull stomach becoming compressed. I wasted no time as we pulled away from the house in reclining my seat a bit. I fumbled around my expanded midsection, getting my belt unbuckled and popping open the button on my slacks. Shannon giggled as I groaned loudly.