Mother dearest

chapter 1

I wanted what was best for my daughter. Every mother does. I hired the best help; I put the best clothes on her back; her education was superb; it was made clear that she would want for nothing. She was my little girl, and I wanted to give her everything I never had.
It is hard being a business woman in this day and age. However, I made a successful career for myself. Even more surprising was I did it alone. My darling husband found another muse, a little tramp on 12th and Main. He was a weasel of a man, and I don't know what I saw in him. He grew fat and bald, his eyesight became variable, and his beady eyes stayed perpetually squinted. And his mistress! She was a portly thing; I never did see what he saw in her, either. With his conniving, I had no issue winning custody of our sweet Clara.
Sure she would ask about him from time to time, but she never got a clear answer. I could not bare the thought of her knowing her father was a cheat. How else would a young girl know a man from a boy? And Troy, he was still a ***ing adolescent despite his thinning, salt-and-peppered hair.
But my Clara, my dear, sweet Clara. I loved her with all my will. I gave her everything, perhaps to just spite him. She and I would have morning exercise routines together, and we both counted the calories to keep our bodies as sharp as our minds. My daughter and me.
When she was a little older, I let her spend the night at a friend's. It was this time that I got a phone call. It was Troy.
"Do not call here again."
"Val, I want to see my daughter."
"Troy, you should have thought of that before you went down on that bloated whore."
"Woah, woah, woah. Leave Heather out of this."
"*** you."
"You can't keep her from finding me. And I'll be here when she does."
"*** you, Troy. You don't deserve her. Do not call here again."
"Goddammit Val, let me see my dau--"
I hung up the phone, and threw it across the room. It shattered into a million pieces. The mirror it met didn't fair much better. God, that man. He drives me mad. As I stooped down to pickup the fodder, I heard a little gasp behind me. I turned and there was my Clara, sweet, innocent Clara, with another receiver to her ear. Her tears welled in her eyes, and as I tried to muster a word through my locked throat, she turned and ran out of the house, dropping the phone on the soft half shag.
Apparently, she forgot something.
She didn't talk to me for a long time. She stopped our morning routines; she became moody and distant. She began dressing in baggy clothes and staying out late, coming home at the wee hours of the night. Finally, she was old enough for college, and at this point, I was willing to do anything to get her into a fresh environment. So, she gleefully left me alone to my empty nest.
I only then saw her from time to time. College certainly did change her. Much to my mortification. Ostensibly, Troy found her. Or rather, she found Troy. And it showed. Every time I saw her, she was larger. Not taller, wider. Her once beautiful, angular face was fleshing out into round cherub cheeks and a soft double chin. She started to wear her old clothes again, which would have been great just 6 months prior; however, now she strained the buttons on her blouses, her expanding size causing little peek-a-boos to form around her middle, showing off her translucent belly. With little modesty, she unbuttoned enough to let her breasts pop out, with the tops of her laced bras showing for all to see. I don't know how she managed to fit her ass in her cutoffs. The button barely fastened, causing her new spare tire to spill over the waistband. Her legs filled the fabric so tight it was a wonder how she managed to pull the thing over her bulging thighs to begin with.
With each passing week, she transformed from the daughter I knew, to a mirror image of that slut, Heather. On Clara's Facebook page, I saw her at family dinners, and carnivals, and movies, and going out for ice cream and buffets, and the one constant variable was Heather and Troy. She was apparently pumping herself with calories just to spend time with them. It made me sick, I had to do something!
Well it was around Thanksgiving, so I invited her over. She tentatively accepted. She showed up the Wednesday before, and my God, she was like a balloon. An inflated version of my daughter.
"Hi Mom."
"Hi...Clara." She walked into the front entry and I closed the door slowly. She gave me a hug, and as I reciprocated, it felt as if my arms would barely wrap around her. Worst yet, they sank into her fat.
"You got fat."
"Well, that didn't take long."
"Seriously Clara, what the hell happened to you."
"Mom, can you just drop it? Seriously? Its like I can't have a serious conversation with you anymore."
"But honey!"
"God why did I even bother coming." She turned to start to leave.
"No! Wait!" She stopped, "I'm sorry, your right."
I dropped it for the remainder of the night. She and I spent a little time catching up. I sipped my wine, and she ate. God did she eat! She kept getting up to go to the fridge or pantry, eventually she started taking 2 or 3 things back with her. I stayed my tongue, but my eyes cast chastising remarks. At some point, I think she just kept eating to spite me. Eventually we ended our conversation and she left for her bedroom. I cleaned up the mess she left behind and soon after followed suit.
The next morning, I had the cooks start to prepare the Thanksgiving meal. Clothed in my robes, I shuffled down to my daughter's room, and gently knocked on the door. It pushed open, and as I peered in, all that greeted me was an empty bed! I checked all around, but she was gone! All that remained was an empty box of cereal, and a note that read, "Mom, I'll be back later, I needed to do something first."
And so I waited. And waited. And waited again. I was angry, and hurt, and confused, and worried. Finally about 5 hours later, I hear a *ding*. It was a Facebook notification on my phone. I opened it, and there was Troy and Heather's ugly faces smiling at me. Both laughing about the inside joke that was my life. And then there was Clara, a fat grin on her face as she shoved a slice of pie in her mouth. The caption read, "First Thanksgiving down, and thanks to Heather: Too. Stuffed. To. Move!" She was leaning back, her belly pushing the seams on her blouse to their limits. Her free hand pushing on her middle as if to emphasize her gluttony.
If she wants a Thanksgiving. I'll give her a Thanksgiving. And I made a quick call to the kitchen staff.
2 chapters, created StoryListingCard.php 9 years , updated 9 years
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Dopefiend 9 years
more would definitely be appreciated
Plumplilbird... 9 years
This is great! Love it so far.