#naivemlnd

There’s something wrong with me.

There has to be.

I have these thoughts sometimes, and they’re not like what everyone else around me is thinking or feeling. They’re… different. Taboo even.

I can’t quite put my finger down on when they started. Maybe for as long as I remember. But it took a while for me to understand that other people didn’t feel the same.

In kindergarten, I’d grab the pudgiest boy in class by the arm, squeezing his upper arm fat like it was a stress ball. He would laugh, seemingly happy to have found a friend at all, even if she was odd and didn’t respect personal boundaries.

But it became weird in first and second grade. You couldn’t just grab someone’s fat and squeeze it. And other kids liked to poke fun at the fat kids, they would taunt them. 

Eventually I would just join in. It was easier that way. Less conspicuous. But I’d never grown out of wanting to touch, to feel that supple flesh under my hands.

During puberty was when I really noticed it.

People would talk about going to second base, how hot abs were, how sexy an hourglass figure was on a girl. But I was only ever aroused when I imagined someone eating, rubbing their fat belly, getting full, moaning, but still stuffing food in…

So, it turned out most people didn’t share this interest. 

And I never said it out loud, never admitted to anyone besides myself, that I was attracted, with a level of exclusivity that scared me, to fat people. More specifically, fat people actively getting fatter.  

My first boyfriend was thin. I was 15 and I wanted. I kissed him. I really tried to get into it. 

But I couldn’t.

My college boyfriend was big, but not in the ways I wanted. He was physically imposing, well over 6 feet, broad shouldered. Handsome, sweet, funny. That helped. I nearly convinced myself that I was attracted to him. See, brain? He’s big. He makes me feel dainty and happy and nice.

It didn’t work.

I never wanted to have sex with him because I couldn’t get aroused around him. 

My excuses of taking it slow, then of ‘headaches’ or of not being in the mood only went so far. So we went our separate ways after a year together, never going farther than kissing and fondling.

It was depressing and sad that I’d only ever gotten myself off when watching some fat person on youtube stuff their faces. And after getting off, I always feel worse.

It’s in these moments of self doubt, late at night, when my heart aches for some kind of intimacy, some kind of belonging, that I think about these things. 

But maybe it’s not my interest in fat men that is the problem. Surely, if that were the case, I’d just find a fat guy to date.

So maybe it’s me that’s the problem.

*

“Cath!” 

I whipped my head around, spotting Layla as she waved a hand to get my attention. She was standing with a couple of other people, none of whom I recognized as I approached.

I cleared my throat, “Hi.”

Layla reached out to hug me, but I leaned away and she dropped her arms. Her smile was pinched around the edges, making me feel even more like shit. 

Layla knew not to do things like that, but she was always…pushing. 

Layla recovered quickly.

“I’ve got to introduce you! Okay, this is John,” she gestured to a tall man with thin wire glasses, “and Isaac,” a broad-shouldered man with curly brown hair nodded towards me, an easy smile on his lips. I attempted to mirror the expression, but it felt forced.

“They work in marketing,” Layla prattled. “And this is Vienna, she’s a data specialist like us, but in a different department.” 

Vienna, a short woman with very big hair greeted me.

“Everyone, this is Catherine!” Layla said, hovering over my shoulder. 

“Nice to meet you all,” I said, still feeling off balance from the almost-hug and Layla’s watchful gaze. 

“You as well,” big-shoulder guy, Isaac, said. 

The thing about being an adult, with an adult job, is that you always feel about an inch from unraveling. 

I hesitated around the edges of the end-of-quarter banquet, near the hand sanitizer dispenser. 

It was annoying that every employee had to attend these. So many people crammed into a banquet hall, all for some mediocre mostaccioli and baked chicken to ‘celebrate’ the employees and boost morale. 

And although Layla’s attention to me was misguided, I did appreciate that there was someone here who was interested in socializing with me.

“You should ask John out,” Layla said, appearing at my side. She was eating the olive out of her martini. 

“No no,” I started to protest.

“Come on! You’ve got to get out sometime!”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. 

“Which one was that again?” I asked.

“Glasses.” 

Thin and tall, I added mentally. I shrugged. I knew it would only end one way: disappointment. But as usual, I was hoping for a miracle, a miraculous change to occur in me. For me to feel something for someone else, even just for a moment.

*

The date could be worse. But it felt more like a friendly meetup. I glanced at John’s slim figure, his slender arms, his sharp jaw, and knew with a sinking feeling in my gut that I wouldn’t even want to kiss him.

“How do you like the city? Layla mentioned you’re from the south,” John asked after a sip of water.

“It’s good, busy. I miss Georgia sometimes, of course, but I am grateful to be away from the humidity,” I said, pleased when he laughed with me.

“Oh, I'm sure! I’m a native New Yorker, so it’s interesting to hear about other people’s hometowns. Back when I lived in Queens…”

At the end of the night, John walked me home. He leaned down, maybe to hug me, maybe to kiss me, but I pulled away. 

There was a small frown tugging at his lips, but politeness seemed to keep him from saying anything.

“I had a great time, thank you for dinner,” I said, and went inside my building. 

*

“And so, this Layla person, the only friend you’ve made from your work, is now dating the guy she set you up with?” my sister’s voice, thick with the sound of home, crackled through my phone speakers.

“Yup,” I said, trying not to get polish everywhere as I painted my toes. 

“Wow. What happened to girl code?”

I sighed. “I didn’t like the guy. So I honestly couldn’t care less.”

My sister made a thoughtful noise. 

“It’s been over a month since I went out with him. Once. One date. It’s not like I had some kind of claim on him.”

My sister Ciara, like most of my friends and family, thought I was too picky with men. If only they knew the half of it. 

“When are you visiting again, Cath?”

“Not until Christmas,” I replied. 

Ciara audibly sighed.

“You could visit me here, you know.”

She didn’t answer, but she didn't need to. It was expensive and she had the kids to worry about. 

“How are the rugrats?” I asked when the silence had stretched a moment too long, and she went into depth about how Connor was doing with potty training and how Rachel was able to keep her head up on her own.

It seemed like everyone, even the kiddos, were doing more, were improving, changing. Bettering themselves. Everyone except me.

I recognized that this thought was unfair, but it didn’t stop me from having it.

*

Exactly three months after the last, there was another end-of-quarter banquet. 

I dressed myself presentably, in a comfortable yet stylish sweater with black dress pants. 

Layla waved me over to a table, where she and John were sitting side by side. Vienna, who I remembered from the last banquet, was there too, sitting by John. Next to her was a couple I didn't recognize but who Layla quickly introduced. Layla, an insufferable extrovert, was always making new friends. Or networking. I could never quite tell with her.

I took one of the two empty seats, sitting at Layla’s right. 

They were talking about holiday plans, and so I chimed in that I was going to visit family in Georgia.

“How fun!” Vienna said.

“Probably won’t be a white Christmas,” John said with humor.

“I’m not built for snow anyhow. I hate the cold,” I said, gesturing to my tiny body. 

A few people at the table laughed, but my attention was pulled away as the empty chair next to mine was pulled out. 

I glanced up. Broad-shoulder guy, er, Isaac? Yes, Isaac, with the curly hair. But he looked… different. 

He sat down heavily. I’d noticed at the last banquet that he was a large person to begin with, tall and wide. It had been difficult to tell in a suit, but he’d seemed stocky. Like someone who was quite muscular, but not cut or lean by any means.

But now…he had a belly. A real, honest-to-god, belly. It balanced out those crazy wide shoulders, pushing out from his suit jacket, and balling up in his lap as he pulled the chair up closer to the table. 

I felt myself blushing and pinched my thigh.

Now is not the time. 

“Snow is overrated if you ask me. It’s glorified cold, icy rain. Bleh,” Isaac said.

John made an indignant noise.

Isaac grinned at him.

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year…” Vienna started singing when John and Isaac began debating the pros and cons of snow. 

“Isaac,” somebody said from behind. Isaac turned in his chair, smiling that easy smile. “You been hitting the eggnog a little hard, pal?”

My eyes widened, and I deliberately looked into the candle flickering on the table’s centerpiece so that my eyes wouldn’t wander towards his midsection. Why would this guy say that? Wasn’t that… rude?

But Isaac only laughed. I heard something, a light patting that might’ve been Isaac tapping his belly for emphasis.

“Yeah, it’s my winter coat.”

I crossed my legs under the table.

Get a grip, Catherine. 

We were served dinner, chicken in mushroom sauce and mashed potatoes, which I picked at, paying much more attention to the plate next to mine, which was cleared before anyone else's. It was all but licked clean. 

*

That night, I couldn’t get Isaac out of my mind. As Isaac was someone who had only spoken about three words to me in my entire life, I had become quite easily infatuated. 

Isaac was fatter now. And based on the way he had eaten tonight, it seemed likely that he would continue to do so. 

Check and check.

I couldn’t help searching him up online. 

I went through Layla’s friends list, and scrolled to the ‘I’s.

“Found him,” I muttered to myself, clicking his profile. 

Isaac Friedmann

I scrolled through his profile photos, but the newest was over a year old, before he’d gained weight. Still, he looked nice, with sparkling eyes and a wide smile. I scrolled back, seeing younger versions of him. One photo from six years ago showed Isaac in a hockey jersey, fresh off the ice, stick in hand, grinning with some of his teammates.

“College hockey player? That’s impressive,” I murmured to myself. I ignored the twinge in my gut reminding me of the ‘ex-athlete who gets fat’ trope in weight gain fiction.

Isaac’s ‘about’ info was private, so I couldn’t check his relationship status. But really, what were the chances that he would even be interested in me anyway? 

I didn’t request to be his friend, even though I sort of wanted to.

*

I spent the holidays back home. I had to dodge lots of questions about my love life, which was of course, nonexistent. Instead, I steered conversation back to safer topics, like my job.

“I basically crunch numbers for the company. It’s a little boring, but the pay is nice and it’s low stress. Good hours, and benefits.” 

This explanation generally had my aunts cooing and congratulating me on my success.

I flew back to New York on the 29th, as I wanted to go to Times Square and see the ball drop. I’d done it the past two years since I’d lived in the city. It was crowded and cold, but somehow, my inner child lived for it. 

I had plans to meet up with my friend Chris, also known ‘Moxie’ when he was in drag, and his partner Sid. Chris lived in my apartment building and we’d bonded over being the only tenants who do laundry at 5:00 am. For Chris, he usually hadn’t gone to bed yet, and I had typically just woken up. Between our incompatible sleep schedules, we barely saw each other outside of these strange twilight hours or weekend nights. We exchanged texts semi-regularly throughout the weekdays, which was about all I could look for in a friend anyway. It’s not like I needed 24/7 companionship.

I’d been tempted to tell Chris about my, um, tastes. He was very kink positive and not at all judgmental. But every time I considered it, I practically broke out in hives. It stressed me out so much that I eventually gave up on the idea. Chris was probably under the impression that I was ace, and I had never done much to dissuade him from this idea. Hell, maybe I was on the ace spectrum. 

That might explain why the only thing that could get me going was fat bellies.

This is not the time to think about this. 

I met up with Chris and Sid in the lobby and we walked to Times Square together. 

I was freezing cold in a matter of seconds.

“Aw, poor Peach,” Sid said, rubbing my arm as we walked, which didn’t do much to quell my shivering. Peach was Sid’s nickname for me, one which I thought was endearing in a slightly annoying way.

“I have extra gloves if you want to double up,” Chris chimed in.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m wearing lots of layers,” I said. The wind chose that moment to blast frozen air directly onto my exposed face. “Fudging fudge!” I exclaimed.

Sid cackled while Chris groaned.

“Please just say fuck. Please,” he begged. 

I wrinkled my nose. “Hmmm,” I pretended to consider it. “No.”

We argued over which swear words I was likely to say, and what disastrous scenarios might prompt me to break my ‘no-swearing’ streak, which I’d had for as long as I could remember. 

Eventually, we nudged our way into the NYE crowd and found an area to stand. We weren’t near any of the stages, but that was alright. The main attraction was the ball, which could be seen from anywhere. None of us had much interest in the musical guests.

“I’m gonna grab a drink,” Sid said, gesturing to the pub down the block that was selling drinks in disposable cups. “Anyone want anything?”

“I’m alright,” I said.

“A beer?” Chris asked. Sid nodded, gave his partner a quick kiss, and headed off.

I had become acclimated to the harsh cold and so I wasn’t shivering too badly anymore. That, or my face had become completely numb.

“Your nose is so red,” Chris commented, booping me on the nose with a gloved finger. 

“It’s charming,” I replied easily, earning a crooked smile from him. Chris had a way of soothing my mind. I couldn’t think of a single other person who I could joke with quite so easily.

As he readied to say something else, I was bumped into from behind. Chris caught me by the elbows so I wouldn’t fall.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, shit,” a deep voice mumbled.

I turned, don’t worry about it, already on my lips but…

I saw shoulders, broad and thick. An open winter jacket, a sweater-covered belly filling the opening. Curly brown hair. Chubby red cheeks. It was Isaac!

I blinked.

Isaac blinked back.

“Oh, hey, um Catherine right?” 

I felt myself blushing, but hoped that the general redness of my wind-numb face would cover it.

“Yeah, hi, um Isaac.” 

Chris nudged me. “Oh, and this is my friend Chris,” I added. 

“Nice to meet you,” Isaac said. His eyes darted between Chris and I. I felt keenly aware that Chris still had one hand on my arm.

I pulled away and gave Isaac what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Um, great to see you somewhere that isn't work-mandated.”

Wow, I am horrible at flirting, I thought to myself. But he laughed.

“Yeah, you too!” He glanced around. “I’d better get back to my friends, but it was great running into you.”

“You too!” 

There was another awkward smile exchange, and then he was slipping through the crowd and out of sight. 

“Um, who the hell was that?” Chris wheeled on me. His face was all-too knowing. 

“Work acquaintance,” I said.

Sid slid back up then, took a quick look between Chris and I before saying, “What’d I miss?”

“Catherine just attempted to flirt. With another human being.”

Sid raised his eyebrows. 

I pulled my hat down so it covered my ears better, not acknowledging that. 

“Attempted? Was she successful?” Sid asked.

Chris eyed me and I felt horribly transparent. 

“The guy seemed into it. He was all smiley.”

I frowned. Had he been? I couldn’t hardly remember the encounter except my own horrible embarrassment. 

“Well, who wouldn’t be? That’s the power of the Peach right there.”

I laughed and felt a tad lighter. 

When the ball dropped, I bit my lip and sighed, yearning for something unnamed, unknowable. For something. 

*

“Great work, Catherine.” 

I couldn’t help but preen a bit at the praise. My boss wasn’t harsh, but he also wasn’t overly friendly. He meant what he said, and he rarely gave compliments.

I let the high from that interaction carry me through the rest of the day. Petty work drama couldn’t touch me, not when I had done such ‘great work’ on my report. 

“There’s cake in the lounge if you want. It’s for, em, Eric,” Shelby, one of the interns from NYU, attempting to remember, “… Eric from accounting,” she said as I walked past.

‘Eric from accounting’ rang absolutely zero bells in my brain, but I figured I’d grab a slice.

My workplace was a big office suite located inside of a high rise. The data specialists had a corner of cubicles to themselves which budded up against the accounting cubicles. The marketing and supply-chain people had offices to themselves with glass walls and great views of the skyline. Of course, executives had a whole floor to themselves. 

It wasn’t like us numbers-folk were in some dark hovel or anything, but it nagged at me when I crossed into the marketing offices and noted the differences between our office areas. 

The lounge had a few people mingling around. I grabbed a slice of cake; it was chocolate. Not as good as vanilla, but it would do. 

“Cath, oh, tell them about that funny saying your mee-maw always says. Mee-maw, isn’t that such a cute way to say grandma?” Layla, always in the center of all social gatherings, asked as I went towards the beverage station. She was standing in a loose circle with John and Vienna.

I filled a paper cup with some burnt coffee and made my way over to her.

“Good ol’ mee-maw,” I said, playing up my accent. “She says lots of things. But, the one that always gets Layla is well, that just dills my pickle!”

Layla laughed, batting at my arm as she doubled over. I stepped out of the way to avoid the contact.

“Ah, such southern charm,” she said, giggling.

It was hard to tell with Layla whether she was laughing at you or with you.

Just then, Isaac waltzed through the lounge doorway.

“Heard there was cake,” he said, and instantly made his way over to the cake and cut himself a large slice.

It’d been a few weeks since I’d seen him on New Year’s Eve. In that time, he seemed to have gotten a little bit plumper. His dress shirt was tight across the push of his belly. The buttons were pulling a bit on either side, puckered. I tracked his movements as he forked up a big bite of cake and stuffed it in his mouth.

Isaac made an appreciative noise before stabbing another piece with his fork.

I felt a blush creeping up my neck.  

I sensed rather than saw Isaac’s eyes flick over towards me. I instinctively glanced down at my own plate, not wanting to be caught staring.

“We still on for the gym tomorrow?” John asked. I looked up. John was staring with concern towards Isaac’s middle. 

“Course,” Isaac said through a mouthful of cake.

“Are you going to do cardio with me this time?” John asked in a lighter tone.

Isaac scoffed. “You know I gave up cardio for lent.”

Layla tilted her head. “Lent doesn’t start until the end of February,” she pointed out.

“Eh, I’m not particularly religious,” Isaac said, as though that explained everything.

Vienna laughed.

I couldn't suppress my own smile. I felt Isaac glance at me, but he quickly looked away before I could catch his eye. 

“Well, that was delicious. Have a good weekend everybody,” Isaac said, throwing his empty plate into the trash. He waved and left the room. 

There was a lull in the conversation, seemingly until Layla had declared Isaac as far enough away from the room to be able to talk about him without risk of being overheard.

“He got a bit chubby, didn’t he?” Layla said, her voice laced with concern. I bit my lip and said nothing. 

John scratched the back of his neck.

“Well, he carries it well,” Vienna chimed in.

I nodded subtly. I itched to come to Isaac’s defense, but the urge to stay silent was stronger.

“I’m not trying to nag him, but he’s been eating loads. It is a little concerning, but I guess… He’s an adult,” John fragmentally explained.

“Of course! I only just noticed,” Layla said placatingly.

“Excuse me,” I said before hastily leaving the lounge. God, why was this messing with my head so much? 

Maybe it was because Isaac was practically the human incarnation of my every fantasy. He’s been eating loads John had said… Oh God, now I was picturing Isaac sitting around, gorging on takeout, eating his way out of that tight dress shirt, buttons popping and flying off as he continued stuffing his fat face…

What the hell?? Stop thinking about this at work.

I knew I was flushing profusely, so I made haste towards the women's restroom.

Once inside I checked my face in the mirror. My mascara was flaking a bit after the long day, but other than that, I looked alright. I took a few deep breaths, counting to 10 in my head. 

I felt much better as I was leaving the bathroom.

Well, I thought I would, except when I swung the door open, it opened directly into someone.

“Fiddlesticks, I’m so sor-,” I began, pausing when I glanced up and saw who I’d hit.

“No, don’t worry about it, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Isaac laughed a bit. “Payback for New Years.”

That knocked a surprised giggle from my chest.

“Oh, you know I was meaning to apologize for running into you the other day. Well, not for running into you, but for like actually physically bumping you,” Isaac said, an embarrassed flush warming his cheeks. “I’ve noticed you don’t seem to like being touched.”

I laughed again, slightly nervously. He noticed that? Oh, now he probably thinks I’m neurotic. Which… probably wasn’t so far off. 

“No, it wasn’t a big deal. The square was super packed, it happens.” I was pleased at how nonchalant I sounded.

Isaac nodded. “And sorry for you know, interrupting you when you were on a date or whatever–”

“What?” I blurted, entirely lost. 

Isaac glanced at me.

“You were with that um guy? He had his arms on you? I thought…”

I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. I doubled over, cackling.

“No, no.” I sobered when I saw his embarrassed expression. “That, that was my friend Chris.” I said. Then after a beat, “Chris is gay.”

Isaac’s eyes widened and then he was laughing too. He looked relieved in some way, but I wasn’t sure.

“Ah, well. I’m an idiot, sorry about that. I just assumed.”

“No biggie,” I said, still smiling.  

Isaac stared at his feet, kicking at the carpet with his heels.

“So since you’re not dating your gay friend, what are you doing Saturday?” I felt my eyebrows raise in shock. He misinterpreted my expression. “I mean, tell me to fuck off if you don’t want to go, no hard feelings. But I would like to take you out sometime. You know, to see you on purpose instead of randomly bumping into each other.” He smiled lopsidedly.

For some reason, I heard Chris’ voice in my head, urging me to say yes, you idiot!

“Yeah, that sounds great actually.”

It wasn’t until much later that night that I freaked out about it. 

Oh, what have I gotten myself into?

*

This date was lightyears away from my awkward date with John. For one, I had butterflies. Actual butterflies, not the nervous sour awful kind, but the good kind, the kind that made your stomach feel like pop rocks.

For two, Isaac was sitting across from me in the tiny booth of a Jewish deli, which made him look somehow even bigger. Apparently this was his favorite spot, but I’d never been.

I closed my menu. “What should I get?”

Isaac eyed me, tilted his head, as though trying to read what I might like off of my face alone.

“Hot pastrami,” he decided. 

“Okay,” I agreed easily.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get a few things for us to share too. And if you don’t like it, I’ll happily eat your leftovers.”

My head swam with dirty thoughts at that, but luckily the waiter stopped by just then and saved me from having to reply.

“All decided?” 

“Yeah, she’ll have the hot pastrami, and I’ll have the stuffed cabbage, a hushpuppy, and fried kreplach.” 

Isaac gave a stunning smile and handed over our menus. I realized Isaac was someone who was self-assured, content. It was inspiring to me though I would be lying if I said I wasn’t also envious of these attributes.

Still, I couldn’t help but catch some of his infectious good mood and smile back. 

“What in the world is a hushpuppy doing on the menu of a Jewish deli?” I asked.

“Right! I almost forgot you’re a southerner. Oh boy, you’re gonna love this, it’s a kosher hot dog, wrapped in mashed potatoes and baked until it gets all golden brown.” He leaned back and made a sound somewhere between a moan of please and ‘yum’. 

“Oh my God,” I laughed. His stomach was looking quite plump from this angle.

I took a fortifying sip of iced water. 

There was a tiny bit of awkward silence; my lack of experience on dates was making my arms itch.

“I’m wondering how to ask ‘tell me about yourself?’ without actually asking that,” Isaac said in faux seriousness. His eyes were alight with humor.

“Hmmm, that is a tricky one. You could always go with the classics. What do you do in your free time? Favorite color? Dog or cat person?” I trailed off, unable to think of any others. Isaac was laughing in earnest now though, so I suppose I’d done enough.

“Well, I like reading, watching movies, being with family, you know. All that wholesome stuff.” Isaac leaned forward and I was again taken aback by how stunning his smile was. “Favorite color… that’s tough. Maybe red? I maintain the right to change that answer anytime though,” he said, pointing at me. 

“I’ll allow it,” I replied.

“And I’m a dog person. Now you go.”

I looked up, thinking. “I like reading, movies are good too. When I’m bored, I like going outside, walking, that sort of thing. Um, my favorite color’s got to be magenta. And I like cats and dogs equally.”

“Ah, now we’ve covered all the bases, haven’t we?” Isaac teased. 

“Oh, definitely.”

Isaac glanced past me, and I turned to see our waiter heading our way.

“Oh, finally. I’m starving,” Isaac whispered conspiratorially.

My meal was placed in front of me, and I was shocked at how much food was here.

An open-faced sandwich, pilled high and surrounded by french fries. 

But Isaac’s was even more full, plus the extras he’d ordered on top of his meal. Our table was crammed with plates of food.

*

We chatted a bit while we ate, but less so. Mostly because Isaac’s mouth was constantly filled. 

I tapped out after eating about half of my food, but Isaac insisted I try a bit of stuffed cabbage, the weird potato hotdog, and the kreplach (which was actually very delicious). 

I was rambling about the leaky sink in my apartment, which my landlord was resolutely ignoring, when Isaac finished the last of his food.

“You want mine?” I asked, pushing my plate towards him. 

Isaac groaned, but nodded. He looked like he wanted to lay down, but he sat forward and stuffed bite after bite of my sandwich into his mouth until it was gone. 

I pinched my thigh so hard it was likely to bruise, but it didn’t help.

I wanted to peel off the tight sweater, unbutton those slacks, feel that big bloated belly under my fingertips. 

But, well. That was weird. Even if your date glutted himself out in front of you, you didn't have any right to feel them up. Right?

The waiter came by and picked up our empty plates, and Isaac ordered a coffee. He was probably very full, I thought to myself. Maybe he needed to digest a bit before he got up.

“Ahhh,” Isaac sighed into his coffee.  “You know, I used to be a college athlete. Now I feel like I just ran a mile when all I did was stuff my face.”

He was probably going for self-depricating.

But, God, if that didn’t do something to me.

I felt my face go hot. I crossed my legs, but that made it worse. 

“Oh, what’d you play?” I asked, as though I didn’t already know from my cyberstalking.

“Hockey,” he said. “Did you ever play any sports?”

I shook my head. “I wasn’t very interested in extracurriculars,” I said.

Isaac drained the last of his coffee and twisted his wrist to check his watch. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean to keep you so late,” he said, startled. 

“It’s no problem. I’m glad to be here,” I said. He met my eyes and smiled. I melted a little.

Isaac paid the bill even though I offered to split it.

“You can get it next time,” he’d promised, and that made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

We walked back towards my building. It was chilly, and so my hands were in my coat pockets. That was probably safer. If my hands were free I’d probably try to do something stupid like touch him.

All too soon, we were approaching the front steps. 

“Thank you for dinner! I had a really great time,” I said. It was my usual line, but this time I meant it very sincerely.

“Catherine, I hope this isn’t too forward, but I’d really like to see you again.”

My breath caught.

“I’d like that too,” I agreed.

Isaac took a deliberate step closer to me. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” I squeaked, voice too breathy, too quiet in the air between us.

He squinted at me. Licked his lips.

“Do you want me to?” he asked.

I nodded, shivering.

Isaac seemed to steel himself. His hands reached out to cup my face, not touching, but hovering just a bit away from my jaw. “Can I touch you?”

I leaned towards his hands. “Yes,” I whispered. 

Isaac’s hand cupped my face, reeling me in. His other hand made its way to the small of my back, a comforting weight. The places where his hands were touching me felt electric. I slowly wound my arms around his neck. 

He leaned in so incredibly slowly that I was nearly vibrating with want by the time our lips collided. 

It was soft, hesitant, at first. Then I gave into it, letting myself lean against him. His belly pushed into my abdomen, and it was more satisfying than my fantasies had ever led me to believe. His head tilted, and our mouths slid together more securely. 

I made a needy noise in the back of my throat and he held me tighter. 

For once in my life, my mind and body were attuned as one, reacting the same. This passion, this longing, it was mirrored in the way Isaac held onto me, as though I was something precious. As though he didn’t want to let me go.  

*

Sometimes I have these thoughts that make no sense. I know they’re not logical, that they’re well… crazy. But I still have them.

I remember one time I spiraled really bad. My brain convinced me that no one even knew me. No one had ever known me, really. That no one cared about my existence. If I died, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing mattered. That I was invisible and unwanted and I had to text my sister Ciara to make it stop.

ME: You care about me right?

She’d texted back after a few minutes.

CIARA: Of course

And I didn’t believe her. But I put on a youtube video and after a few hours of mindless  media consumption I remembered that my family loved me. 

*

I was trying really hard to keep Isaac from seeing me spiral. 

Usually when I had those weird trains of thought it took time to dig myself out. For rational thought to finally wrestle its way back into my mind. 

But I’d been spending a lot of time with Isaac. And that meant the chances of revealing my fully unhinged self to him increased. 

I know about probabilities okay, I’m a data specialist. 

But, after our fantastic first date, Isaac and I started seeing each other with regularity. We would eat lunch together, sometimes in the staff lounge, but sometimes if we had time, we’d walk to a bodega and get a sub or something. 

And a few times a week we would make plans to see each other after work. We texted in between dates, or during the work day. I spied my contact in his phone and noticed there was a heart emoji next to my name. 

It was quickly becoming ‘dating’ rather than ‘seeing each other’. I wanted to ask about being in an exclusive relationship, but I’d yet to get the nerve. 

But being with Isaac was just great. It really was. The more I learned about him, the more I liked him.

I really liked him.

And I noticed, because I spent so much time with him now, that Isaac seemed to be intentionally getting fat. 

There were a few signs which led me to this conclusion:

Isaac would push himself to eat as much as he could at every meal even if he was full, groaning and subtly rubbing the sides of his gut, he’d still eat more.

Isaac bought a whole new set of clothes, which was only practical. BUT! But he bought them… big. That’s right, they were baggy on him. Which… why would someone do that if they weren’t expecting to keep getting bigger?

Isaac was probably onto me and my weird fetishes and he almost seemed to be leaning into it. Because he would say things, provocatively, but still subtle enough that it wasn’t super obvious, about his weight gain. 

I remember one time we’d gotten ice cream and were walking around central park. Isaac had eaten a huge meatball sub for lunch and I could tell he was pretty stuffed. But he still suggested ice cream with a glint in his eye. And he tracked my reaction closely, I could feel the heat on my cheeks, I’m sure my pupils were dilating a little. And then he’d pushed his stomach out further, ‘stretching his back’ and a sliver of his belly peaked out from beneath his shirt. 

“Oh, I guess I probably didn’t need that ice cream,” he said, tugging his shirt down and smoothing a hand over his rounded belly. It was a ball, defying gravity and sticking straight out. The rest of him was starting to fill out a bit more as well, but his belly was by far the most obvious feature. 

I stammered, mind going blank until I eventually mumbled something about ice cream being delicious.

Isaac smiled knowingly and took my hand. He put it on his side, where his puffy love handle met his back in a roll. It wasn’t inherently weird, couples touched each other’s sides casually. But.

But Isaac watched me so closely and I let my hand do what it wanted, to sink into that flabby flesh.

And Isaac sort of, smirked? Not condescendingly. More… secretly pleased.

And after that it became normal for Isaac to initiate touching around his midsection. 

Because of who I am as a person, I wasn’t ever the one initiating these touches, because I was too nervous. But Isaac seemed to like it when my hands were on him. And I liked it to.

And so it became normal for Isaac to put my hands on his gut after a big meal and I’d lightly run my hands along his bloated belly, taught after a binge. 

But what we didn’t do was talk about it. 

*

Until I walked into what seemed like a fairly tense conversation.

“Why am I always the bad guy when I’m trying to look out for you?” John hissed, a whisper that was scathing in its intensity.

I stopped short of coming into the doorway of Isaac’s office, shocked.

“You’re not the bad guy, I’m just sick of your nagging. I don’t need it and I don’t want it.” Isaac’s reply was calmer, but still intense. 

“Jesus christ.” John sounded like he’d begun pacing, letting out exasperated sounds as he did so.

“You’re my oldest friend. You should support me, fat or thin,” Isaac said quietly, and his voice sounded so… sad. 

I knew I shouldn’t be eavesdropping but it felt too dangerous to try and back away now that they’d gotten so quiet. 

John let out a wounded noise. “It’s not that I’m upset you’re fat. I love you, no matter what you look like. But you’re not letting me help you get this weight under control. And that hurts.” It sounded like a tired argument, like John had been trying it for some time now to no avail. 

“I’m gonna be late for Catherine,” Isaac said coldly, a clear dismissal. 

I panicked, and slowly inched backwards, trying to act like I’d just rounded the corner.

Isaac walked out of his office right as I approached, and I forced a casual smile onto my face. 

“Hey! So, I was thinking we could try this Indian place? I read they have really good deals on Thursdays,” Isaac said, perfectly normal. As though nothing happened. 

“Sounds great,” I said. 

Later, after Isaac had eaten his fill of butter chicken and naan, we went back to my apartment.

It wasn’t like that. We hadn’t been doing anything more than kissing. And Isaac seemed good with that. He hadn’t asked, let alone pressured me like I’d expected he would after a few dates. I wondered if I should feel mad that he hadn’t. Maybe he didn’t find me attractive?

But, sometimes when we hugged, I could, ah, feel  how attracted he was to me. So that probably wasn’t it. 

I put on an action movie and we snuggled close. He carefully draped my arm across his belly, where it puffed out under his chest. I squeezed in closer and he laughed softly over my head. 

The movie was terrible, but in a really awesome way. The protagonist had just strutted away from a collapsing building as it blew up behind him when Isaac spoke. 

“Would you judge me if I said I was hungry again?”

I wet my lips, feeling overwhelmed.

“No,” I said. That seemed like a safe answer. Then I realized I was being a bad host. “Would you like something? I have some girl scout cookies, or if you want something more I have frozen pizza rolls?”

I could hear my mee-maw’s voice in my head tutting at me for not having anything freshly baked to offer my guest. 

“I could go for both, if that’s okay.”

I squeezed Isaac tighter and then let go to get his cookies and pizza rolls. My face and neck were probably visibly red from arousal and embarrassment. I felt like a kid who’d just been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. But I wasn’t. I was just putting pizza rolls into my air fryer and getting cookies out of my cupboard. 

I grabbed a can of sprite out of my fridge, because he probably wanted something to drink. And well. Soda had bubbles. It’d make Isaac a little more bloated… I need professional help. 

“Samoas! My favorite! I’ll totally buy you a new box, don’t worry.” Isaac quickly opened the box and shoved a cookie into his mouth. 

I smiled, didn’t trust my voice to say anything, and turned back towards the movie. I snuggled in close, but didn’t wrap myself around Isaac like I’d been doing earlier so his hands were free to eat. 

It was strange that I loved touching Isaac when normally contact with other human beings made me feel gross. I’d yet to fully understand that.

But anyways, Isaac stuffed his face with cookies, pausing to drink his soda and letting out little burps as he did so. He’d always mutter, “Excuse me,” when he did. I shifted, feeling something stir inside me. I wanted so much it was making me antsy. 

Then the pizza rolls were done, so I put them on a plate and came back. 

I saw the empty cookie box and smiled to myself. 

Isaac was looking very bloated. His big ol’ gut was puffed out, and it drooped a little into his lap. He still had those crazy big shoulders, but they looked proportional. His arms had softened up, a little flabby. I rested my head on one and sighed. I could hear, feel, and see Isaac steadily eating his way through the pizza rolls. He was groaning a little. Clearly full, but desperate for a little more. 

When he finished, he tried to reach over and put the plate down on the coffee table, but he couldn’t quite get there with his big bloated belly so stuffed and tender, so he gave up and set it down next to him on the couch. 

“God, thanks. No wonder I’m getting so fat. Been eating like a damn fiend lately.”

My face was most definitely beet red, so I just nuzzled under his arm and put myself back into my old position. Isaac let himself be maneuvered until I was comfortable.  

“I’m…” Isaac started but then trailed off. The movie was ending, the protagonist kissing some sexy twenty-something as a pop rock song came on.

“Mmm what?” I asked drowsily. He was so warm and soft. His tummy was gurgling, trying to digest. 

“I’m not reading into things am I?” Isaac paused and I waited for him to continue. “You like this too?” He patted the side of his belly.

I leaned away from him to look at his face. It was pink, but he held my gaze unflinchingly.

I took a breath. “No, you’re not reading into things.”

Isaac broke out into his signature grin.

“Thank fuck,” he said vehemently. I smiled back, feeling relief and simultaneously immense panic.

“So, you- you are gaining weight on purpose?” I asked hesitantly. 

“Er, yeah.” Isaac scratched at his neck. “It’s like. Well. We should probably just be honest, huh?”

He looked nervous, I realized. I’d never seen him like that.

“Yeah. Honest.”

He nodded. “So, I’ve always wanted to get fat. I mean, I was a little chubby as a kid, but then I got into sports so I kind of had to stay in shape. But now that I can afford to, you know, buy tons of food and new clothes…” He laughed sheepishly. “I figured why not? So I started like, doing stuffings and. Yeah. I like it.” Isaac’s face was a little pink but he was beaming.

I didn’t quite know what to say. 

Isaac nudged me. “What about you? Is that why you didn’t go on a second date with John? Because he’s a toothpick?”

His words had some humor to them but I could sense genuine curiosity underneath.

“Yeah, I mean. I wasn’t, um, attracted to him. Or, really. Anybody. Until you.”

It felt like a huge admission. Isaac rubbed my back and I felt better. 

“So, I guess we should discuss, like what things we’re into? And what we aren’t.”

That seemed very sensible so I nodded. 

“For me,” Isaac said. “I want to keep gaining. I don’t have a goal weight or anything right now, but I know I’m not fat enough yet.” He smacked his belly for emphasis. I tracked the movement, felt my face heat. He watched me, and it was like some invisible wall was down and I knew that he knew I was hot all over at the sight. “But I’m into stuffing, obviously. I would definitely be down for you to stuff me, if that’s something you’d be into.”

“I-I would definitely be into that,” my mouth said without my consent. But Isaac thought my reaction was funny, or cute. He was smiling at me indulgently. 

“Alright. So you like watching me eat, you’d be interested in helping me eat… What else?”

I took a second to think. 

“I think maybe like, trying on old clothes? Keeping rough track of your weight. Like, maybe occasionally taking measurements, but mainly just having you weigh yourself sometimes to see your progress…” I realized as I started speaking that these desires had been brimming under the surface for such a long time. I’d never been able to imagine I’d ever get to do any of them though. 

“Alright, that’s very doable. Any hard limits?” Isaac asked. 

“I don’t want to be, you know, mean to you. I know some people are into degradation but, um. No, I won’t do that.” 

Isaac nodded. “Not a problem. I think it’s the same for me. I want to be carefree, let my gluttony run wild.”

“You seem to be doing well at that so far,” I said and patted the biggest part of his belly. 

He laughed and hugged me close to him. 

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you like me like this,” he whispered, a little serious. 

I melted into his embrace. “Me too.” 

*

CHIRS: how’s it going with ur boytoy ;)

ME: good! 

ME: I think we’re very compatible. 

CHRIS: when do i get to properly meet this man

ME: Idk i'll plan something soon and let you know

*

We planned to have a big stuffing day on the weekend. Isaac said he wanted to test his capacity at eating all day. And I suggested we keep track of the calories so we’d know how much to aim for next time.

I was freakishly excited about it. 

I got a ton of calorie-rich groceries delivered – store made cakes, frozen pizzas, premade dumplings, and tons of snack foods. And we planned to order takeout periodically depending on Isaac’s cravings.

I had a journal ready where I was going to jot down everything Isaac would be able to eat that day. Maybe it was a little Type A of me, but hey, for once my neurotic brain was working with me. 

 Isaac picked up a dozen donuts on his way to my apartment that morning, and by the time he arrived on my doorstep, he’d already eaten two. 

“Sorry,” he’d said but I shushed him.

“You’re a growing boy.” I watched Isaac’s eyes glaze over a little. I quickly ushered him to the couch where he’d spend the majority of the day. 

Now, the real fun could begin!

*

The day was off to a wonderful start. I was, possibly for the first time, truly letting myself look at Isaac the way I wanted to. 

Lustily, adoringly. 

He’d always had an imposing figure, with his height and abnormally wide shoulders. He was naturally big. And of course his new weight was extenuating these features quite nicely. His belly was the most obviously pudgey area, but I noticed that his jaw was softening and his arms, while still looking well-muscled where they poked out of his t-shirt, were looking softer as well. Likewise his chest had lost definition, but not mass. I wanted to straddle his lap and let my hands sink into those soft mounds above his belly, really feel how fluffy they were getting.

I felt surprised at my own reaction, how bad my body wanted. God, Isaac made me lose my head a little. 

Isaac got comfortable and proceeded to eat half of the dozen donuts, sipping on some whole milk to wash them down, before he took a short break.

We were watching some legal drama on TV and I rubbed his belly a little, which was jigglier than usual. Probably because it was the morning and he hadn’t eaten enough for it to be taut and full. My hand looked comically small in comparison to his big tummy. 

After a while Isaac went back to the donuts and somehow finished another three in quick succession. The last three were more of a chore. He was pretty full and the donuts were dense. 

“Just a little more,” I said, and pushed bites past his lips. 

Isaac groaned, but dutifully ate bite after bite until they were all gone. 

We kissed for a while after that, and he tasted like donuts. His hands were latched around my waist. It made me feel unreasonably hot when I realized how big his hands were on my sides; his fingertips were nearly touching where they curved around my ribs.

But after about a half an hour Isaac said he was no longer completely full and so I got him some chips and salsa.

“Hmm, this is really good,” Isaac said between bites.

“Let me try one,” I said. It was pretty good. Salty chips and sweet salsa that had a slight kick once you swallowed.

I got up and grabbed my notebook.

12 donuts

Half a bag of tortilla chips & salsa 

“It feels a bit like you’re studying me for science when you write like that.” 

I glanced up, blushing.

“Sorry,” I said, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. 

“I don’t mind being a science project. At least, not when you’re doing it,” Isaac said with a shrug.

I felt warm and fuzzy inside. 

By now his belly was filling up, not really a true bloat just yet, but getting there. I put a frozen pizza in the oven. 

“Seemed like this would be easier,” Isaac said, leaning as far back as he could. His belly was pushed out and he rubbed the sides of it consolingly. “I feel like I eat a ton normally, but having so much so early in the day is making me feel like a total blimp.”

I hummed and made my way behind the couch, put my hands on his shoulders and started gently massaging them.

He sighed in contentment. 

The oven dinged and I hopped up to get the pizza out.

“You don’t have to eat it all now,” I said, handing Isaac a big plate filled with pizza.

Isaac groaned but started eating dutifully. 

“Yeah I do,” he said between bites. “Won’t taste as good reheated.”

I laughed.

I watched, transfixed, as Isaac shoved slice after slice into his mouth. His belly bloated bigger and bigger. 

Isaac paused to drink some water. “Salty,” he muttered.

“Let me,” I said as I reached to unbutton his jeans. He looked relieved as I pulled the zipper down and his belly was able to spill forward a little. It wasn’t big enough to really hang down, but Isaac spread his legs anyway. Gave himself a bit more room.

Isaac rubbed the red line where his jeans had been cutting into his belly a little, and then went back to eating.

He couldn’t possibly be hungry at all. In fact, he’d looked like he was getting to a point of overfullness where he looked a little queasy. 

“Fuck me,” Isaac groaned when he picked up the final slice.

I ran a soothing hand over the dome of his belly. 

He finished the slice.

Isaac fell asleep when I went to wash some of the dishes. He looked so cute with his shirt pulled up to his belly button, jeans open, and head tilted back against the couch.

I felt a fluttery feeling in my chest and I knew I was in trouble.

I made myself a sandwich and cleaned up a bit, trying not to be a creep and just watch Isaac sleep. But I did glance over often. He was just so cute. 

Isaac woke up around 3 and I put out some snacks, trail mix and pretzels, which Isaac grazed on a little.

For dinner, I ordered chinese. 

Isaac got crab rangoons, kung pao chicken, and lo mein. I got garlic chicken. 

“God, I’m still stuffed. Haven’t been hungry since 9 this morning,” Isaac groaned. Still, he loaded up his plate and sat back. 

“You’re doing so well,” I said supportively. “Eating a lot at once probably takes some practice. You know? Just like anything else.”

Isaac eyed me. “You’re saying we should do this more often? For training, of course?”

I blushed but nodded at him.

“Good with me,” Isaac said. 

He slowed down by the time his first entree was gone. He’d eaten about half of the crab rangoons. 

I was finished with my portion, had put the rest in the fridge for my lunch tomorrow. 

I let myself do what I wanted to do all day and swung my leg over him, got onto his lap.

Isaac seemed surprised but not at all bothered to have me in his lap.

“Let me,” I said, taking the plate from him. I filled the fork and lifted it to his lips.

“Mmm,” he mumbled into the bite. He relaxed further, let me keep putting food into his mouth until he groaned for a break. I put the plate aside, felt his bloated belly. It was thick with all of the food he’d eaten. Puffed out and stiff under my fingers. I was gentle as I ran my hands along his stomach.

He burped into his fist a few times, which I think gave him a bit more room.

“I can take more now,” he said. 

I fed him bite after bite until it was gone, until he’d eaten everything. I got up to put the dishes in the sink. When I came back, Isaac was huffing and groaning.

“Oh god,” he moaned, holding onto his belly like his hands were the only things keeping it from splitting open.

I bit my lip, felt my insides heat at the sight.

“I’m never getting up again,” he whined. “I think I’m going to live on your sofa forever. Hope you don’t mind.”

“I really don’t mind,” I said, voice like honey. He looked up at me, blushing beet red. 

Eventually Isaac wanted to get vertical, and I helped him up and into my bathroom so he could take a shower.

I used that time to update my notes.

12 donuts, 290 cal each = 3,480 total calories

Half bag of tortilla chips = 980 calories

Two cups of salsa = 134 calories

Frozen pizza = 2,269 calories

About a cup of pretzels = ~300 calories

About two cups of trail mix = 1,386 calories 

Crab rangoons = 732 calories

Kung pao chicken = 781 calories

Lo mein = 897 calories

Total =10,959

“Holy cannoli,” I murmured to myself. 

Isaac walked in shortly after, his hair was wet and he’d put on some comfy sweatpants. 

“You ate almost 11,000 calories today,” I said without preamble.

Isaac sighed, rubbed his big belly.

“Yeah, feels like it. Do you mind if I stay over?”

I’d offered when we had planned this. But it was still nice to be asked, to double check that it was alright.

“Of course.” He smiled a little. “Just, just for sleeping,” I clarified. I was suddenly very embarrassed.

But all Isaac said was, “Good with me.”

That night, when Isaac was completely passed out in a food coma in my bed, I laid wide awake. Once Isaac had fallen asleep, it was like I was alone. Even though he was a few inches from me, I felt totally alone. 

I had been so happy and present in my body while we’d been doing it, when I’d been watching Isaac eat and feeding him myself. But.

But now I felt like a black hole had opened up inside my chest. 

I found myself questioning this whole thing. Is this ethical? Feeding someone? Making them fatter? Even if they want it, there was probably more to it. Was it objectively bad? It didn’t feel like it should be bad but…

I scrolled through my phone, which ended up being a horrible idea. Because I came across some stupid click-bait article about how some young healthy guy had dropped dead after sitting still for too long. A blood clot went to his lungs after a 3 day bender of playing video games and not moving.

And that was the end of that. I threw my phone onto my side table and sat up. I paced.

 Didn’t want to wake Isaac.

But I also really wanted to wake up Isaac. Because what if he had a blood clot? What if him sitting on my couch all day, and then laying down on my bed all night, was going to kill him?

I knew I was being crazy, but I was actually about two seconds from losing it, and so I woke Isaac up. 

I shook his shoulder. 

“Mm?” Isaac mumbled, stirring a bit.

When his eyes opened I was entirely mortified. 

What was I supposed to say? I’ve been having this irrational fear that if you don't stand up and walk around for a bit you’re going to die.

No. No, I couldn’t. But now he was looking at me with concern, his brows pulling together in concern. 

“I,” I began but nothing else was forthcoming. 

“What’s wrong? Catherine?”

My ears were buzzing.

“Um,” I said. And promptly started tearing up. 

“Shit, c’mere,” Isaac said, pulling me into his arms. 

I allowed this for a moment, because being against his soft body felt nice, but the anxieties were still there, brimming under my skin.

“No,” I said, pulling away. “C-can you, yeah come,” I said, disjointedly, but Isaac allowed himself to be pulled to his feet by me. 

“Okay, what are we doing?” Isaac asked. I intertwined our arms and started dragging Isaac towards the bedroom door. He was being a remarkably good sport about all this, I noticed. If someone had woken me out of a dead sleep, started crying on me, and then 30 seconds later was tugging me around their apartment, I would probably be livid. 

“Walk with me,” I said instead of actually answering. I led him around the perimeter of the living room, like it was a track. 

“So, is there a reason I’m walking laps instead of sleeping right now?” Isaac asked. There was a lightness to his tone, but it couldn’t completely disguise his worry. 

Seeing him, up and about, acting fine, made me absolutely mortified at my overreaction. But it was also so relieving. See, brain? He’s fine. 

“I, well. I get like this sometimes,” I started. My palms were sweaty. I wiped them on my pajama pants. “Like, I have stupid thoughts and I don’t know how to shut them up. So, um, we’re walking so I can prove to myself that my brain is actually wrong and you’re fine.” 

It was more than I meant to say, but Isaac hummed, kept walking with me. He seemed to be letting my words marinate. 

“Did your brain convince you that I was in fact, not fine?” Isaac asked after a moment.

I shrugged helplessly. “Yeah.”

I saw Isaac nod in my periphery. “And what made your brain think that?”

It was a fair question. Isaac was taking this pretty well, all things considered. I mean, if he dumped me after this, I would understand. But for now, he was still walking with me. Still had my arm in his. 

“It’s, you were sitting all day. And, well. I don’t want you to get a blood clot.” I mumbled, getting quieter towards the end of my sentence. 

“I see,” Isaac said. “So next time I should get up and walk a bit when we’re doing stuffings. Do you think that’ll help ease your worries?”

I stopped walking and Isaac did too. I looked up at him. I was sure my face was red but I didn't really care.  

“You still want to do this again?” I whispered.

Isaac smiled. “Course. But I would like to make sure you don’t get so worried next time.” He ran his hands down the sides of my arms reverently.

I felt my eyes water, with exhaustion or emotion, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t trust my voice, so I just leaned in to hug him. 

“Okay. Do you feel better? Think you can get some sleep now?” Isaac asked, rubbing my back.

I nodded into his chest.

He ushered me back into bed, pulled the covers over me, pulled me into his arms. 

“You still like me, even though I’m sort of crazy?” I asked in the dark. It was easier when I wasn’t able to see his face.

Isaac exhaled a soft laugh.

“You’re not crazy.” I huffed in disbelief and he amended, “Not actually crazy. An understandable sort of crazy. And why would that make not like you? Have you seen you?” Isaac tsked and I couldn’t help but grin. It wasn’t like I didn’t know Isaac was attracted to me, but it still left me a little breathless to hear him mention it.

“I guess that’s understandable,” I huffed.

I felt Isaac kiss my forehead.

“Go to sleep.”

So I did. 

*

Isaac had told me in college he’d been about 170 lbs. He’d gotten a little fluffier over the years, putting his best estimate at being around 190 when he’d been first introduced to me. But since then, he’d started gaining on purpose, putting on almost 40 pounds from October to December. I recalled how noticeable that gain was, how it seemed like so much difference in such a small amount of time. It had been evident in his big belly, how it rounded out in front of him. But still, at 6’3, 227 lbs wasn’t all that much. He’d just looked beefy. A sort of imposing figure softened with a pudgy middle. 

But that wasn’t the case any longer. Isaac had graduated from dad bod firmly into chubby territory. By March, Isaac was sitting at a solid 269. And boy did it show. 

Ever since my mortifying spiral, Isaac had been so insanely accommodating of my illogical worries, it made me feel simultaneously like crap and also feel so amazingly warm. And he’d talked me down from a few freakouts since then. Mostly it had to do with me thinking that Isaac was going to get sick and die (he did neither). And Isaac reassured me by getting a checkup (he had a clean bill of health) and eating lots of vegetables (because I remembered scurvy existed). 

We still hadn’t had sex. 

But at this point, I was waiting for Isaac to bring it up. It felt like I’d let it go too long without saying anything and now it would be awkward to bring it up… 

Still, I had never even thought that I could find someone who would like me once they got to know me. Or more accurately, that I would be able to feel attraction for someone who felt the same about me. And so really, sex with Isaac was as terrifying as it was exciting to think about. I would be alright if we held off a little longer.

*

“And then Isaac made me watch this movie with him, oh gosh, it’s so funny, I can’t even remember the name of it, but you’d love it. I’ll ask him later and text you the title.” I was rambling about Isaac. Had been for the last 10 minutes, I knew, but as I was folding my laundry before 6 in the morning, I was too tired to care.

“So I take it you and Isaac are doing pretty well?” Chris asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah,” I hummed rather dreamily. “We’re exclusive now, did I tell you that?”

“Um, no you certainly did not!” Chris gave me his best disappointed dad look.

I laughed. “Well, we are. An item that is. I should be like, carving our initials into a tree at this point.” 

Chris barked a laugh. “You really like him don’t you?” Chris teased, but his gaze was far too knowing for comfort. I don’t know what my face did, but it only spurred Chris on. “Oh my god, you’re falling in loveeee.” He sang, clutching boxer briefs to his chest dramatically. At least they were fresh out of the dryer.

“Shut up,” I mumbled, but I couldn't keep a grin off my face. 

“I need to meet this guy. Like, meet him as your partner. Because, I know I met him. But. Really, it’s gone on long enough, I need to give him the shovel talk. You should take him out this weekend, I have a gig at Celia’s.”

It was tempting, if only because Chris, or Moxie, as was his stage name, was a really good performer. And I sort of did want Isaac to meet my friends. Who all happened to be gay in some way. Huh, I wonder if that factored into my ability to connect with other people somehow. I was weird as heck, a girl whose sexuality was basically ‘bellies’. But well, the LGBT+ community had always been a kind of haven for whomever society deemed to be outcasts or weirdos…

“Yeah, I’ll ask him today,” I said, and Chris squealed in delight. He was way too chipper for 5:47 am if you asked me. But, he also hadn’t gone to bed yet.

“Ask him,” Chris said, giving me a warning finger pointed my way. He stuffed all his clothes into his basket without folding them. Ugh, such a guy. 

*

After almost 3 months of dating, Isaac and I attended our first work banquet together. You know, as a couple. 

“Does this tie make me look like an asshole?” Isaac asked. 

I watched as Isaac fiddled with his collar in my bathroom mirror. It was a bit tight where his neck was getting thicker, a double chin imminent. I focused my attention on the tie. It had four leaf clovers on it. 

“I think it’s fun,” I said. I was straightening my hair, trying to get my hair to lay flat, but it wasn’t going as well as planned. I probably needed an actual silk press, but who had time for that?

“Well, if Catherine thinks it’s fun, it must be,” Isaac said.  

I shoved Isaac’s chest playfully. My hand sunk a little bit into his plushy flesh and I bit my lip. 

“Almost ready?” he asked. Isaac’s eyes were dark, and his arm wound around my waist. I nodded, not trusting my voice.

We arrived at the banquet on time. 

The banquet was a lot more fun with Isaac at my side. I never realized how isolated I had made myself at these events. I thought it was because I didn't want to make small talk, but I don’t think that was true. I just didn’t feel comfortable. But with Isaac there, it was easy. He knew everybody. Everyone seemed to like him. And by proxy, they liked me because I’m Isaac’s girlfriend. As the night went on, I talked more, opening up and chatting with new people. I hardly talked to Layla at all, and I honestly didn't miss it. 

Dinner was another mediocre affair, roasted potatoes and a small filet of salmon. But Isaac had hit the appetizer tables pretty hard before, so I figured it would do.

“God, this belt is killing me,” Isaac whispered to me once his plate was clear. I glanced at his belt, and sure enough, it looked tight. Tighter than it had earlier this evening.

“Can’t you loosen it?” I asked. 

He shook his head. “It’s on its last notch.” Isaac’s face was a little proud.

“Oh,” I muttered. My face was probably pink, so I took a sip of water. Isaac laughed a little and placed a big hand on my back. 

I was relieved when we left, though I noticed Isaac had been avoiding John all night. I didn’t want to pry, but they were close friends. I wondered if they’d fought again. But Isaac didn’t tell me those sorts of things. The only reason I suspected it was because of my accidental eavesdropping. Maybe Isaac thought knowing he and his friend were arguing over his weight would make me worry unnecessarily. 

“How far is Celia’s from here?” Isaac asked once we’d started walking. The March air was brisk, but it felt sort of nice. 

“Five blocks,” I said. “Did you eat too much?” It hadn't seemed like it.

Isaac shook his head. “Hardly. It’s this fucking belt. Feel like it’s cutting me in half.”

I pulled us to the side of the walk way. 

“What’re you doing?” Isaac asked when I reached for his pants. I said nothing but smiled in a way I hoped was attractive. 

Though it wasn’t easy, eventually I was able to unhook the belt and pull it off.

Isaac laughed. “What, I’m supposed to carry that all night now?”

I shook my head. “It won’t fit ever again, right?” I asked. His eyes glazed over a bit, and he shook his head. “Right,” I said, and tossed the belt into a trash bin. 

“Ready to go?” I asked innocently. Isaac kissed me hard.

The bar called Celia’s was disgusting. But also very very cool. The floor probably contained diseases unknown to modern medicine, but the atmosphere was so fun and energetic, it hardly even mattered.

“PEACH!!!” I had hardly made it through the threshold, but somehow Sid had already spotted us. I gave Isaac a sympathetic glance and tugged him towards the bar where Sid and our friends were standing.

I could hardly hear over the music, but somehow Sid’s voice still boomed.

“Oh my god, Peach I’ve missed you! You get a boyfriend and all the sudden you’re not free every weekend to hang out. It’s so sad! Oh, and you’re the boyfriend,” Sid shouted, looking from me to Isaac. He wasn’t slurring but he was most definitely drunk.

“That would be me,” Isaac said. He was taller than mostly everyone, and he just seemed to take up so much space in the crowded bar. It was hot, I had to admit.

“Awww, he’s so cute! Guys, look how cute Peach and her boyfriend are,” Sid cooed.

Amy, Ty, and Jinx all mumbled their agreement in their various stages of intoxication. 

“How long until Moxie comes on?” I asked Sid.

Sid checked the time on his phone. “Like, two minutes ago!”

We both cackled. These gigs never stayed on schedule. 

“Do you want a drink?” Isaac whispered in my ear. His hand hovered protectively over my hip, and I leaned into him.

“Just a coke?” I said.

Sid scoffed. “Our Peach is so responsible. I always try to get her drunk at a bar but she refuses.”

Isaac glanced down at me, amused. I huffed, indignant. 

“Who wants to waste $9 on some fancy shot when I could make my own for a fraction of the price. And I could drink it at home where I know I won’t get knapped!”

Sid full on cackled at me. 

“You’re the best Peach, oh wow. I love you!” Sid breathed, pulling me in for a sticky hug.

Isaac returned a few minutes later with my coke and a beer for himself. 

Jinx leaned over to me and drunk-whispered (meaning everyone in a ten mile radius could probably hear them), “You’re dating like, the hottest bear I’ve ever seen.” The way they said it suggested they were well versed on the subject. 

I felt my cheeks turn bright red. 

“Shut up, you’re the worst!” They just laughed at me.

“Ohmyygod, everyone stop, here she comes!” Sid said, grabbing anyone he could reach. This happened to include Isaac’s arm. 

I shrugged in apology, but Isaac seemed only charmed by it.

The lights on the small stage came on and Moxie was there in all her glory. 

She had on a leotard and fishnets, seven inch heels, and a wig big enough to be seen from outer space.

Then a Brittany Spears song came on and Moxie started dancing and lip syncing. She was strutting around the stage like she owned it, and whipping her wig all around. It was so fun to watch. The crowd screamed anytime she looked their way. Sid was the loudest, yelling, “THAT’S MY BABY!” so loud it made me wince.

Moxie ended up doing five songs before introducing the next queen and exiting. 

“What’d you think?” I shouted to Isaac. He had to bend over to hear me over the music.

“She slayed,” Isaac said stone-faced. 

There was something absolutely hilarious about someone as heterosexual and male as Isaac saying ‘slay’ that it made me absolutely weak in the knees. I nearly fell over laughing.

Moxie came out from backstage to mingle with us after a little while. It was fun seeing Isaac have to look up at Moxie, since her heels gave her a height advantage over someone as tall as Isaac. 

“You’re an incredible performer. Um, you have a lot of stage presence,” Isaac was saying.

Moxie absolutely ate it up. 

 She turned to me, pleadingly. 

“Cath, please keep this one? Pretty please?? I like him so much.”

Isaac gave me a smug look, like yes I charmed your friends, of course they love me. 

“Wasn’t planning on getting rid of him,” I said, snuggling up under his arm. 

A chorus of, “Ahh, look at them, they’re so cute! Babies!!!” followed. 

*

“Your friends are way cooler than mine,” Isaac said on the way home. We were huddled in close as we walked to Isaac’s apartment.

I giggled and leaned into his side. 

The air was charged when we reached Isaac’s building. 

I felt a pull from the pit of my stomach. Isaac seemed to feel it too in the way he was avoiding looking at me. His cheeks were pink but I didn't think it was from the cold. 

“Um, do you have a shirt I could borrow?” I asked once I’d gotten my shoes off. Isaac was unbuttoning his collar and it was unreasonably attractive. He nodded and I watched his chin double with the movement. 

“You’re gonna swim in it but here,” Isaac said, handing me a t-shirt. I peeled off my clothes and pulled the shirt over my head. It fell to my mid-thigh. 

“Thanks.”

A loaded silence followed. 

“You tired?” Isaac asked. It was after 2 a.m. 

“No.”

Time seemed to be moving very fast, but it also felt a bit like it was moving slow. Like pouring molasses in January, and also like watching a YouTube video at 1.75 speed. 

Isaac pulled me flush against him, and his belly pressed against my small torso. He cupped my head in his big hands and tilted his face down towards mine. Our lips touched, like they had many times before. 

Nothing about this kiss felt like those though. 

Isaac’s tongue invaded my mouth and I couldn’t hold back a tiny whimper. 

“Cath…”

I pushed my face against his chest, breathing hard. My face felt like it was on fire. 

“Do you…?” Isaac asked. 

Now or never, I thought. 

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” I said. Isaac pulled me to his room so fast we almost fell over.

*

Sex was different than I’d imagined it. I don’t know what I thought it’d be like. Maybe some kind of childish delusion was coloring my expectations. ‘True love or stars colliding. But the real version was better. It was flesh on flesh, sweaty and hot. It was laughing when your bodies made a weird squelching noise. It was seeing pores and moles and other imperfections. 

It made me appreciate that I was physically here. That I was with Isaac carnally and he still wanted me. He wanted me so much we went at it twice before dawn. 

We ate leftover Chinese food as the sun came up and it was so perfect. So absolutely astoundingly perfect.

I had the most awful, terrifying thought as I watched the sun shine onto Isaac’s curls. I love him. 

It was horrible and gross and awe-inspiring and amazing and disturbing and great. I felt like my chest was full to bursting. 

After that, Isaac and I grew closer in a lot of ways. For one, we started having sex a lot. Like four or five times a week. Sometimes more. 

For two, Isaac and I got closer emotionally. I learned lots about him as we lay together at night, cuddling naked in the dark.

Isaac’s mom is Catholic and his dad is Jewish. Isaac’s grandma makes the best lemon bars. Isaac doesn't have siblings but his cousin Tyler is basically like a brother to him. 

And Isaac learned about me as well. That my sister Ciara is sort of a mess even though she pretends she’s not. That my dad left when I was 7. That my mom is the nicest person in the world and she deserves everything. 

That I love Isaac.

His face was awe-struck. 

“I love you too, Catherine,” Isaac said. And I had already sort of known that. But it still lit me up inside. 

Isaac hit 300 lbs in June.

It was a huge milestone, and he’d worked hard for it, eating loads to try and put on weight faster. 

“I think I finally got my metabolism to slow down a bit,” Isaac confessed to me. And it was true that he was gaining faster as of late. He’d had to get new clothes. His build was decidedly top-heavy, with his belly easily being the largest feature. It stuck out in front of him, wide and thick and when he sat, it rested on his thighs. His sides started to acquire rolls where his love handles melted into his sides. His face was puffier, with the most kissable cheeks.

It was endlessly attractive to me.

It seemed like everything was going really well for me. At work, I got a promotion that came with a nice raise. I was happier than I’d ever remembered being. 

Maybe I should have figured that it couldn’t last. 

*

“Cath, hey! I feel like I’ve barely seen you lately!” 

I knew that voice even though I didn’t look up from the bathroom sink where I was washing my hands.

“Hey Layla. Yeah, it’s been a busy few months,” I said, plastering on a smile. When I glanced up, I saw her in the mirror a few sinks down. 

“Oh sure, sure!” Layla dried her hands on a paper towel. “I was meaning to ask you, how are things with Isaac?”

I paused, hands still wet. “Good, we’re. We’re good.”

Layla smiled easily. “That’s great. Really, I am happy for you. You know, it was strange when John and I started seeing one another, but I’m so glad you found someone. And John’s best friend no less! Why haven’t we done a double date?”

I felt something twist in my stomach. “I-I don’t know. I suppose you’d have to ask John and Isaac.”

Layla nodded sagely. “Between us, I don’t think they’ve been getting on very well lately.”

I knew this, on some level. Isaac hasn’t been going to the gym with John like he used to. He hadn’t even brought John up in weeks. 

“Oh?” I asked because with Layla, playing dumb usually meant getting the scoop. 

“Yes, it’s quite sad really. Apparently John was worried about Isaac’s weight. Well, you know, he has gotten rather uh portly. I’m sure you’ve noticed that,” Layla said with a knowing smile. I shot a strained one back at her so she’d continue. “And I know John maybe went about it the wrong way, but he does have a point. It can’t be healthy, gaining so much weight so fast.”

My eyes burned.

“It’s not really John’s business.”

Layla seemed surprised by the surliness of my tone. 

“Of course not.” Her tone was placating. I left the bathroom without a goodbye. 

All throughout the rest of the work day, I tried putting Layla’s comments out of my mind. She was just saying that to justify John’s judgmental comments. 

But there was probably some kind of truth to what she was saying. Isaac was gaining loads of weight in a short amount of time. It was over 100 lbs at this point in about a year. But Isaac was keeping his strength up with weights. He was building muscle too. He was a big guy to begin with, and his frame could carry the extra weight without issue. 

I tried to think rationally about it, but my brain, as usual, wanted to sabotage these efforts. 

Later, Isaac and I went back to my place. We picked up middle eastern food and I watched Isaac eat two entrees and an impressive amount of pita bread. 

I tried not to let it bother me, but I guess it was showing on my face because Isaac asked, “What’s wrong?”

I pushed a piece of shish tawook around my plate. 

“Uh, well. Layla said something to me earlier and it’s just… you know how I get,” I said with a self-deprecating smile. 

Isaac frowned. 

“What did she say? Exactly?” Isaac’s voice was hard. Not angry exactly, but close. 

I shrugged a little. “Just, you know. That you’d gained a lot and that it couldn’t be, er healthy.” I glanced down at my lap where my hands were picking at my pants nervously.

“Catherine. Come ‘ere.”

I looked up and Isaac was pushing his seat back from the table and gesturing to his open lap. I couldn’t help but smile as I got up and let him pull me onto his lap.

“You know I’m healthy. I got a clean bill of health at my checkup.”

I nodded because I did know that. I just needed reminding.

“Yeah,” I said quietly.

 Isaac rubbed my back and I felt better almost immediately. I was like a cat; if I could purr, I probably would be right then.

“So it doesn't matter what Layla says. Because you know that I’m healthy. And we both like how I look now.” 

I felt a wash of self-hatred at that moment. I was constantly needing Isaac’s reassurances. He was the one gaining weight. He was the one who’d have to deal with the judgment of others. Not me. And yet her I was, needy and sad after one comment. It was horribly pathetic. 

“I’m sorry,” I said into his neck. Isaac sighed.

“Don’t apologize. I sort of like that you care so much about it,” Isaac said, a little lighter.

I smiled despite myself. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You actually give a damn about my health. Some people would probably get off on me eating like a fatass and then run for the hills if I got a health scare. So, yes. I’m glad you’re like this.”

I felt myself grin and I swatted his arm lightly.

“Shut up.”

Isaac’s laugh made his belly shake a little against me and god it felt so nice. 

*

Everything fell apart one weekend in July. 

“Come on, it’ll still be here on Monday,” Isaac said from the chair beside me. Our office was empty but for us and the custodian. 

“The report’s supposed to be in before 8:00 am on Monday,” I whined. I rubbed my eyes freely since I hadn’t even put on makeup. It was horrendous that I’d received the data sheets so late, but some of the higher ups were always putting off their work until the last minute. Meaning I usually ended up staying after hours to get things done. Vienna had offered to help, but since she had plans with her family this weekend, I waved her off. I was sort of regretting it now, though.

Isaac stood slowly. He’d gained another 15 pounds and it showed. His belly jiggled more, his face was rounder, and his arms were feeling flabbier than ever. He put his chunky hands on my shoulders and rubbed a little to ease their tenseness. 

“How much more do you think? It’s almost 7.”

I glanced at the report, which was about 80% done, and back at the clock. 

“Maybe another hour?” I said. “You don’t have to stay, obviously.” 

Isaac smiled like what I’d said was funny. “Okay, how’s this? I’m going to run across the street to that Italian place we like. I’ll get a mountain of takeaway. And by the time I get back, if you’re done with the report, I’ll let you feed it to me.”

I felt my cheeks heat. 

“You’re bribing me with feeding sessions now?”

Isaac laughed, a deep, unself-conscious sound. “No, I’m incentivizing you. Do we have a deal or what?”

I glanced at his belly, imagining how swollen it’d look after three huge entree portions. 

“Deal.”

Once Isaac had kissed the top of my head and left, I got to work. 

I took a deep breath and focused on my report. I tried not to rush myself, because that might cause me to make mistakes, and fixing mistakes would take longer than doing it correctly from the start. 

I worked, hyper focused, more intently tuned in on my report than I had been able to be all day, for the next forty minutes. 

The custodian told me he was leaving and then asked me to set the alarm on my way out, and then I was alone. I finished the document, attached it to an email and was cc-ing my boss when Isaac walked in. He was carrying three heaping bags full of steaming-hot food, which he put down on a nearby desk with a heavy thunk.

“Done?” he asked with an excited eyebrow raise. I finished typing out the address, looked over the email one last time, and hit send. 

Yep!” I leaned back in the office chair, pushing away from my desk and getting enough momentum to send my chain spinning in a lazy circle. I smiled at the ceiling in relief. My body felt boneless, as if the stress was the only thing that had been keeping me together all day. 

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” Isaac said suggestively. I caught myself with a hand on my desk to keep my chair in place so I could meet Isaac’s eyes.

“What’d you get?”

Isaac tore the first bag open and started pulling out styrofoam containers. 

“Cheese ravioli for Catherine,” he said with a wink. “Mushroom risotto, piselli e guanciale,” Isaac said, absolutely butchering the pronunciation. I laughed at him but he ignored me. “Aaaaaand, veal parmesan.” 

I glanced at the last bag, which was unopened. “What’s that?”

“Garlic bread and antipasto salad,” Isaac said. “Where should we start?”

I squirmed in my seat. I was actually quite hungry, since it was 8 p.m. and I hadn’t eaten since lunch. I figured I should eat my food before I got carried away with feeding Isaac. And salad was a bit hard to feed another person. I didn’t want to get lettuce and cheese and salami all over the place. 

“Eat the antipasto first while I eat my ravioli,” I said. 

Isaac smirked. “Aye aye, captain.”

It was a little weird to be sitting in an empty office building on a Friday night. It was one of those places where nothing seemed real. Most of the lights were off, just the blue glow of the computer homescreens and the security lights near the door gave the room an odd aura of timelessness. 

While we got started on eating, it was quiet to the point of awkwardness with TV playing in the background like we’d normally have on at one of our apartments, and so I put some music on my phone for some ambience. I inhaled my ravioli with single-minded focus, and ate a piece of garlic bread to sop up the sauce leftover. Isaac seemed as hungry as me, as he’d nearly finished his entire salad by the time I ate my food.

“What do you want next?” I asked, standing up and stretching a bit. My back was sore from hunching over in my desk chair all day. 

“Hmm,” Isaac considered, glancing at the spread of containers littered all over the available desk space in my cubicle. “Risotto. It won’t be good if it gets cold.”

I nodded and got it opened. Isaac was scooping the last of the antipasto into his mouth and I waited until he’d finished before taking the empty container and tossing it in the trash.

Then I started to climb into Isaac’s lap. It was a tight fit, since his love handles were brushing the armrests of the chair, but I shoved my knees in and settled myself over him.

“This feels scandalous,” Isaac said with a playful smile. I shrugged. Our office security cameras were only faced towards the doors, and rarely did they even get checked. 

“It’s sorta hot though, right? Me feeding you at work?”

Isaac nodded and opened his mouth when I held up a forkful of risotto. His hands were on my hips, not doing anything suggestive, just resting there, but for some reason the feeling of being caged in by his hands had me blushing. 

He ate the risotto quickly, and I patted his tummy, which was getting a bit bloated, as he finished off the last of it. 

“How old is this shirt?” I asked, teasing at the buttons which looked a bit strained. Not indecent, but they were pulled tight enough across his gut that the fabric between was puckered. 

“Uh, about two months?”

Isaac was blushing now. 

“I like it,” I said. “Veal next?”

Isaac nodded and so I stood to grab the next container. Thankfully the meat was cut. It would have been hard to slice with plastic cutlery. 

“Getting full?” I asked when this entree was about halfway done. 

Isaac hummed, chewed, and swallowed. “Yeah. I still have room though, don’t worry.”

He did have room. He ate the rest of the veal and then had a break where he ate some bread and drank water. Then he decided he was ready for the pasta. 

The peas and the pancetta in the piselli e guanciale were a little cold, but Isaac didn’t seem to mind. I forked up heaping mouthfuls and Isaac ate them dutifully. 

He was really getting stuffed by the end, but he still had a solid ¼ of the meal left. He was making those adorable little grunts and moans that indicated his stuffed state. I put the container down to rub his sore belly.

“That feels amazing, Catherine,” Isaac murmured. I kissed the top shelf of his belly over his shirt. It was bloated and thick-looking. He’d indulged a lot in the last hour. 

“More?”

Isaac took a deep breath and nodded. 

I fed him a little more, but then he begged for a break. 

“Fuck, I’m… shit I’m so full,” Isaac grunted. His belly was looking huge, and god I loved it.

“Just a little more. Come on, you can do it,” I said. Isaac opened his mouth. “That’s it, eat a little more. You know you want it,” I teased, knowing Isaac did want it. He loved to push past his limits. I was getting turned on, which was loosening my tongue a bit. “Yeah, eat more. I know you can. I know you want it. Just two more bites.”

“So full,” Isaac moaned.

I pushed another forkful into his mouth.

“Good, you’re doing so good. One more and then you’ll be done.” 

Isaac opened his mouth again for me, and as I was putting the fork past his lips, I heard a smacking sound that nearly had me falling off of his lap in surprise. 

Standing in the doorway was Layla. 

I had no idea how long she’d been standing there. My music was still playing, and I’d been so focused on feeding Isaac and talking him through his fullness that I hadn’t heard her come in. 

I was mortified.

It was so obvious what we’d been doing. I was sitting in Isaac’s lap, where he looked absolutely stuffed. We were surrounded by empty food containers. If she’d heard what I’d just been saying….

“Oh my god,” I mumbled. I wanted to sink through the floor. 

“Layla, wha-what are you doing here?” Isaac asked. His chubby cheeks were bright red, and he was still out of breath from fullness. Belatedly I realized I should be getting up off his lap. This was unprofessional enough as it was. 

“I left my planner here earlier, I just stopped by to grab it,” I saw the planner at her feet which she must have dropped, which explained the smack sound I’d heard, “but Cath, what the–what were you… I thought he was on a diet.” Layla said, her nasally voice accusatory. I felt sick just hearing her tone. “Isaac, you’re letting her do—-whatever this is—to you?”

Isaac took my hand in his. “I wanted her to.” His voice left little room for disagreement.

Layla sputtered. “Catherine, you are enabling his binge eating disorder! Don’t you realize that! I thought you of all people would care about his health.”

I instantly felt nauseous as her words took root. 

This was what normal people thought of what we’d been doing. I’d let Isaac lull me into thinking this was normal when it clearly wasn’t. It wasn’t just strange, it was disordered. Layla had just said it was. And how hadn’t I seen it sooner? Isaac wanted to eat as much as he could in one sitting because it scratched some type of itch inside of him? Because he felt compelled to binge? 

And I had been enabling it.

“Catherine, don’t listen to her,” Isaac was saying, but blood was rushing in my ears. I was going to throw up. This was all of my worst fears. Being caught, being outed as a freak, putting someone I loved in danger because of my weird fetish. I wasn’t putting his health first like I’d been trying to do. I was getting off on his messed up eating habits. 

I pushed off of Isaac’s lap. He tried to hold onto me, but I didn’t let him. He was too full to get up after me anyway, and that made me feel even more sick.

I grabbed my purse and booked it past Layla, who was talking to me, but I tuned her out. I got on the elevator, shaking and numb all over. 

I made it to my apartment like a zombie, and I collapsed on my bed in my clothes. Only then did I let myself cry. 

*

CHRIS: have u talked to isaac yet??

I glanced at my phone from my spot on my bed, burrowed into the blankets like a burrito, before locking my phone and putting my comforter over my head like a dramatic 12 year old. 

I had called Christ last night after I’d cried out my embarrassment, my panic. And it’d been, well… an awkward conversation to say the least. 

Chris had been worried (obviously) as I’d called him crying, so I started trying and failing to explain what Layla had interrupted without mentioning the feeding situation. 

But well. It made no sense. We weren’t having sex in the office, or anything like that. Really, there was no reason for it to have been a big deal. So what I got caught sitting on my boyfriend’s lap? It was awkward, sure, but there was no reason for my reaction if I didn’t explain the–the food stuff. The health stuff. My anxiety stuff.

And so with my censoring, Chris was totally lost. 

But this was, well, Chris. My best friend, the most accepting non-judgmental person I knew. If I couldn’t tell Chris about my preferences, I couldn’t tell anyone. 

So after a few minutes of his voice in my ear calming me down, I had to bite the bullet and explain, yeah so remember how I never used to like anyone? It’s because I only like fat people. Fat guys, actually. Which Isaac is one. In case you hadn’t realized. Um. Oh and that awkward encounter Layla walked in on? I was actually just sitting on his lap feeding him Italian food. Because I’m a freak. And my insane brain was already on the cusp of breaking down at any given moment over the fact that Isaac could possibly be sick, or hurt, or… or something. And so when Layla insinuated that I was enabling an eating disorder I.. well. I believed her.

Chris had been quiet while brokenly explained that Isaac liked eating and getting fatter and I liked watching it happen. 

Chris was silent for a moment but he accepted the information without any fuss, which I appreciated.

That was last night. His reassurances no longer had much effect. 

And so now, those dark thoughts had time to grow and festered over the course of a day. 

I was even more reluctant to reach out to Isaac today seeing as he hadn’t even attempted to call me. Obviously it wasn’t his responsibility. I was the one who’d ran off and left him there. And the guilt was eating at me a bit, to be honest. But still. I was used to Isaac constantly wanting to comfort me. Coddle me. And now that he… wasn’t, I found myself unable to cope.

So I continued to ignore Chris’ message and wallowed in self-pity some more until I heard a knock on my apartment door in the early evening. 

I had migrated to the couch with a cup of tea by then, but I still looked like a mess. My face was blotchy from crying, and I hadn’t showered. My pajamas were oversized and worn in. Surely my hair was a mess as well, but. 

I stood up and looked out my peephole anyway. Part of me had expected Chris to come do a wellness check before he left for the club that night, but a secret, smaller part thought maybe Isaac would be there. 

But when I looked out into the hallway, it was neither of them.

John stood outside my door, awkwardly shifting his weight and fiddling with his wrist watch.

I yanked the door open.

“John?”

John looked startled.

“Catherine. Hi, um, I was hoping I could speak with you,” John said. I kept my body in front of my partially-open door.

I frowned. “Why?” I asked.

John scratched the back of his neck.

“Look, I… I talked to Isaac. And Layla, and I just. I know this situation is fucked and I know you might not be wanting company right now but,” John left the sentence unfinished, but turned a more pleading expression at me.

I swallowed heavily. John fidgeted under my stare for a moment.

“Um. Okay, come in,” I said, sliding out of the way so he could come inside. Luckily my neat-freak tendencies had kept my apartment from looking too rough. Aside from the pile of blankets on the couch, my place looked the same as it normally would.

I was the only thing that looked like a mess.

I sat down in my blanket nest and John took a seat in the chair.

“So.” I kicked my leg absent-mindedly. “Why are you…?”

“Here?” John guessed. I guested in confirmation, only feeling a little rude to be asking. He took a deep breath. “Catherine, I came here because I needed to say, well. I know we went on a date. And you weren’t into it.” His smile was self-deprecating. I started to protest but he didn’t let me. Which was fine, it’s fine. But surely I ignored some red flags when Layla asked me out directly after setting me up with you, her supposed friend. I mean, at the time I didn’t know she was like…” John searched for a word. “Like that.”

I nodded because I did know that Layla was in fact ‘like that’.

“And when Isaac asked me how I would feel if he started pursuing you, I was honestly skeptical. I thought.. I thought you’d go out with him once and never again. Like you had with me.” John smiled wistfully. “But when you kept seeing each other, I was happy for him. Truly.”

I felt myself blushing for some reason. 

“Are you and Layla, um, broken up?” I asked tentatively.

John nodded, scratched at his thighs nervously. “I broke it off with her after I spoke with Isaac, but it. It was a long time coming,” he explained.

“Oh,” I said dumbly.

“But, Catherine, I’m not here to talk about my breakup. I,” he scrubbed his face with one hand. “I wanted to talk to you because I think you need to hear this from someone who isn’t Isaac.”

His words made my eyes snap to his. He was stiff, serious, but clearly sincere. 

John took a breath. “Isaac told me a while ago that he wanted to, erm, to gain weight,” John said. 

I instantly regretted having this conversation. My stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“And I didn’t understand. Still don’t really. But it doesn’t matter. Because it’s his life, it’s his choice how he wants to live it. And that misunderstanding, my lack of acceptance, put a wedge between us. I hardly saw Issac this past year. And you’ve got to know, Catherine. I love Isaac. He’s one of my closest friends. To not have him in my life was. It was awful,” John said. “And so when Isaac called me last night, I.” John paused. I found myself staring at my hands in my lap. His voice was raw, and I felt distinctly uncomfortable. But I continued listening. “He called me and told me what happened. And then I heard the same story from Layla. And you want to know something, Catherine?”

I reluctantly met his gaze.

“Isaac told me that he’d screwed things up with you. Because he wanted to protect you from getting hurt. And he thought he’d failed at that. He was beating himself up about it.” John scoffed. “Isaac is one of a kind, isn’t he? You want to know what he didn’t tell me, but Layla did?”

I didn’t really, but I figured John wouldn’t have come all the way to my apartment for no reason, so I nodded anyway.

“She said that after you left, Isaac kept eating, shoving all the remaining food in his mouth like it was some act of defiance,” John said. He smiled fondly. “Isaac wanted her to know that it wasn’t you forcing him to do anything. Because you weren’t. You might already know that, but in case you need reminding, Isaac wanted to get fat with or without you. And I honestly don’t understand it. But it makes him happy, so,” John shrugged. “Isaac thinks he f**ked this up between you two, but Catherine… It’s no one’s fault. Maybe Layla’s for opening her big mouth but.”

I swallowed heavily.

“Thank you for, for saying all that,” I said.

John nodded. It was odd, how one conversation, one honest conversation with John, could make me understand why he and Isaac were friends. John was considered, reserved, but ultimately he cared about things. Cared enough to come all the way to my place just to make sure I wasn’t going to spiral so hard that I’d hurt Isaac forreal.

That was a good friend.

*

Isaac opened the door slowly. His t-shirt was ill-fitting, clinging to his tubby belly in a way that made me want to reach out and feel that supple flesh between my fingers. His brown curls were a mess, like he’d been running his hands through them, or maybe he’d just recently lost a pillow fight.

His eyes widened when he saw me standing in the hallway.

“Catherine?” he mumbled, surprised.

“Hi. Can I come in?” I asked. After John had left I showered and put on some real clothes, still comfortable ones, but an outfit that was suitable for outdoor wear. 

Isaac stepped aside so I could walk in. His apartment was a mess, but I wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t as neat as me anyway. 

We stood there in the foyer staring at each other for a few seconds. Isaac bit his lip, so I opened my mouth to speak.

“I’m sorry. For running away,” I said.

Isaac frowned. “No, no it’s, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Isaac said. I smiled but shook my head slowly.

“It is. I’ve realized just how much you’ve done to-to help me. With my issues. You’re, god, you’re freakishly accommodating,” I said, smiling humorlessly. “It’s like, you’re perfect. For me, at least.” 

Isaac’s eyes were very wide. 

“Do you know why I don’t like when people touch me?” I asked.

Isaac shook his head.

“I avoid being touched because I’m scared of being a real person. I’m always so scared that if someone touches me with-with any kind of tenderness, then I’ll simply fall apart. I-I spend so much time trying to hold myself together that I always knew that if I ever let anyone in, that I would crumble. I’m not, I’m not good at this, Isaac. I’m,” I put the heel of my hands into my eyes. “I’m terrible at being in a relationship because I never let myself be vulnerable with anyone before. Not my family, not my friends, not. Not anyone. Until you.”

I pulled my hands away to glance up at Isaac. He was staring at me like he’d never seen me before.

“Catherine, can I…?” Isaac’s hands were hovering, like they wanted to pull me in for a hug, but he waited until I nodded before he did.

Being hugged by him was. It was. 

I felt so safe.

“You’re not bad at being in a relationship,” Isaac mumbled into my hair. “Whoever told you that is stupid. You’re, god, you’re everything to me,” Isaac said. 

I felt my eyes welling up with tears.

“I think I should go to therapy,” I whispered. It was a thought that I’d avoided for years. I was scared of anyone ever getting close enough to know me. I didn’t like thinking about myself, my childhood. I actively pretended that I was normal, that I was fine when I clearly was not. 

“Whatever you want,” Isaac said. 

Epilogue: Three months later

“Mom, you’ll see me for Thanksgiving….Yes, I’m bringing Isaac….I know….I love you too…. Oka, bye.”

I hung up and sighed. 

“How’re things back home?” Isaac asked from the kitchen. He was making a bowl of cereal even though he’d had lunch only an hour ago. His appetite was impressive, and as of yesterday, he was tipping the scales at 356 lbs. 

“Fine. My family is just. They’re a little too excited to meet you,” I said exasperatedly.

“Well I’m excited to meet them too. Especially the famous mee-maw,” Isaac teased. I rolled my eyes. 

Isaac and I were planning to move in together after Isaac’s lease ended, but he practically lived here already. 

I watched Isaac devour his cereal and pour himself a second bowl. 

“You’re gonna spoil dinner,” I complained, knowing that it was not possible. We were going to a new restaurant tonight with John and his new girlfriend Grace. Isaac was bound to be ravenous by then even if he ate the whole box.

A few months ago I might’ve worried about the amount of sugar Isaac was eating, but after starting therapy and being prescribed antidepressants, my cycle of worrying was less intense. That’s not to say that it didn’t happen. But well. It was more manageable. It helped that Isaac was willing to get checkups frequently, and he’d resumed going to the gym to keep up his health while he gained. 

 I stared at Isaac as he ate. He really was so handsome. With those shiny brown curls, those dimples when he smiled, his chubby cheeks and double chin… 

“See something you like?” Isaac asked when he noticed my staring.

“Maybe,” I said with a grin.