Chapter Text
"Oh, you wish I were a devil," Angel said, pushing another donut hole past your lips. You chewed, swallowed, and opened for the next one thoughtlessly. A habit ingrained into an instinct.
"Why's that?" you mumbled around a mouth full of food. She only lets you talk with your mouth full when there's still food on the table.
"Because then you could say no," she said, her high trilling laugh falling around you like scraps of gold foil. "Devils can only corrupt those who want to be corrupted. But I am"—she pushed two pastries into your mouth at once, eyes darting to the crumbs falling down your fat, naked body—"inexorable. I do not beg. I break." Her voice spread tingles of pleasure all over you.
Part of the pleasure was that it was true. She was inexorable, from the second you met her on the sidelines of a track meet. Taller than you, but not too much. Long, straight blonde hair. Blue eyes like the withering heat of a desert sky and a constant smile. You were drawn to her, not like a magnet, but like a dog on a leash.
Your friends and family were shocked at her influence on you. A month after you met her, you quit the 100-yard dash, the specialty that got you into college. Then you dropped out, no job, just staying home with Angel. She took you all over the world before you got too fat to travel, she attended your every need, every want you could have was a click or a question anyway. As long you were good, of course. And being good meant always leaving a clean plate.
Angel took care of you. That was all you really knew about her, all you really needed to know. She was mute about her past, and you didn't like it when she was quiet.
"You know, in the world where I didn't pick you, you did it," Angel said, kissing you on the cheek, brushing the crumbs from your face. Her hands wandered all over you, pinching a fat, overblown tit resting on your over-engorged stomach. You don't move much, you don't try—you didn't remember the last time you did, Angel takes care of you—but if you'd tried, you'd be totally unable. You were past fat, past morbidly obese, past clothes. You'd been worried about your health at first, but Angel said not to worry, so you didn't, and you never felt bad. No chest pains, no breathing, not even snoring. She takes care of you.
"Did what?" you said.
"You went all the way," she said. "You got into the Olympics. You placed. You were hoping for bronze, but got silver by half a second. Became a physical therapist after, and always bragged about being the second-fastest woman in the world."
"I did?" The words seemed meaningless to you. She kept you full of wine and weed, she kept you inside with her all the time, she kept your mouth moving. Waking to sleeping feasting. You looked around, dimly, at your body pushing out around you. Was there someone cheering outside? Your legs felt hot and achey and crampy, but it passed. "But I didn't meet you?
"No," Angel said in a crooning basso.
"Then I want the one with you, Angel," you said, smiling. What a good day. You got to make Angel happy today.
"I know you do, little pig, but you don't know how happy that makes me to hear you say it," she said. She smiled and it was like the moon had come down to kiss you. "I'm not really supposed to be here, with you, but things are different than they used to be."
"Different?" you said. Your mouth was empty. Your uselessly fat arm grabbed for a cluster of a grapes.
"God doesn't see as much as he used to, little pig," she said, holding the grapes to your mouth. They were cold, fresh, sweet, bursting with juice, your eyes closing with pleasure at the first bite. "Don't you read the news?"