Work Text:
“Hi there. You must be Phoebe? I’m Will.”
I’d seen her sitting at the very back of the restaurant, anxiously picking her nails while she waited for me.
“Hi! Yes, I’m Phoebe, but my parents call me Berry. Nice to meet you!” She rose up to greet me, and we hugged quickly. Berry was even shorter than her pictures had suggested, but just as fragile in build.
We sat down together and started looking through the menu.
We’d talked over text, and the impression I had gotten from her was that she was shy, nervous, in a way that made it obvious she hadn’t seen much of the real world. I had suggested the date and picked the location, which was a nice Vietnamese restaurant that I’d been to many times before.
Now Berry kept shooting glances at me, hesitant to do anything in case she got it wrong.
“I think I’ll go for the classic pho with beef,” I said. “Have you decided what you want yet?”
“I’m not sure,” she laughed nervously. “I’ll just get what you’re getting.”
I gestured to a waitress and she took our order and brought us some water.
I made some general small talk about how nice the weather had been that week and how happy it made me that spring had come, since I liked being outside in the sunshine.
“Do you have a favorite park that you like to visit?” I asked.
“Not really… I don’t go out that much.” Berry smiled apologetically.
“What do you like to do?”
“I, um, I just dropped out of school, most of my time had been going to studying.” She’d taken a second to form her answer, like she was only telling half of the truth. I was quite sure she was lying about her age, at least, so it was possible she’d never even studied at a higher education level.
We talked casually some more until our food arrived. I dug in right away, but she seemed really hesitant, like the food was going to bite her.
“What’s the matter?”
“N-nothing,” Berry said and picked up the fork. I ate with chopsticks. “It’s just a lot of food.”
Despite her initial doubts, she began basically inhaling the food, appearing almost scared that someone would take it from her if she wasn’t quick enough. Judging based on her slight appearance, it wouldn’t have surprised me if that was really happening to her at home. She was definitely underweight, as well as malnourished.
Berry finished her bowl of pho faster than me, then looked at me like a dog that just ate its owner’s socks, guilt and fear in her eyes, scared of what my reaction could be. I smiled silently and finished my own dish.
“Delicious, isn’t it?”
She stared at her lap and nodded.
“Would you like dessert?”
She shook her head, not looking up at me. I ordered some fried banana for myself, and offered some to her. She shook her head again.
“It’s really good,” I encouraged.
Finally she overcame her shame and took a piece, then muttered a quiet “thank you”.
I did most of the talking that night, I didn’t mind it since I knew it was necessary in order to break the ice and earn Berry’s trust. She smiled and laughed timidly in response, avoiding eye contact. I paid for both of us like any man on a first date.
“You wanna continue the night at my place?” I asked. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Half reassurance, half making sure she knew that doing something was an option.
She lit up and agreed happily.
Berry wore a short skirt and leg warmers, a blue low-cut top that matched her eyeshadow and a little overcoat. Not exactly trendy clothes, but she’d thought through her outfit. She had no need for a bra, since her chest was boyishly flat, and so she didn’t wear one. A gust of wind could knock her over, so I held her hand, surprisingly cold to the touch, making sure she couldn’t fly away from me.
On the way she suddenly let go of my hand and hunched over.
“Oww, my stomach really hurts.”
“Oh no,” I said. “Was there something wrong with the food?”
“No, I think I’m just not used to eating that much.”
“Do you want to go home?”
“No!” Berry said instantly. “Ah, no, I mean, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She came across as desperate and insecure but trying not to sound as such.
She wiped sweat from her palms on her skirt and took my hand again. We walked to my house at a slower pace.
I lived alone. My house had a small garden in the back yard that I liked taking care of in my spare time. For a man living alone, the house was bigger than necessary by any means. It had two bedrooms and a large living room with a widescreen tv. The walls were painted a milky white and I had very little furniture, but at least it was easy to keep my home clean.
Inside I took Berry’s coat, then she went to the living room where I joined her shortly after with a bottle of some whiskey I kept in the kitchen cabinet and two glasses.
I poured us both a drink and sat down next to her on the couch. She sipped at hers, looking even paler than before.
“I feel really sick,” Berry mumbled.
“I’ll take you home if you don’t feel like staying here tonight.”
“I’d rather be here than at home.”
“What’s wrong at home?” I tried to make it an innocent question, like it wasn’t obvious that she was clearly being abused.
She looked at me for a long while and then said; “I want to move out as soon as I can.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“I don’t have any money.”
“Are you looking for jobs?”
“Yeah, but my parents… they really don’t want me going out.”
“At all?”
She shook her head.
“Jerks,” I scoffed. She flinched, and I added; “I don’t mean to insult you, but parents should let their kids do what they want once they’re adults, at least.”
“What are your parents like?” She was tense around matters concerning her age.
“They both died a few years ago.”
“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s fine. We were never close, even less after I moved across the country right when I turned eighteen.”
We were silent for a while, then she inquired; “Do you have a bathroom I could use? I’m not gonna throw up,” she added quickly.
“Yeah, first door on the left there,” I pointed.
I downed my glass and when Berry came out from the bathroom I was there to swoop her into my arms.
“Feel any better?” I leaned back against the wall.
Berry leaned in very close to me, or as close as she could with me being a foot taller than her. I wasn’t even very tall for a guy.
“Way better now,” she said in a sarcastically flirty voice, her lips almost brushing against mine. I kissed her and she kissed me back, not very well but with enthusiasm.
She giggled when I picked her up and carried her to the bedroom with ease. She lied down on the bed, expecting me to take the lead which I gladly did.
On my fours above Berry I slipped my hand under her shirt, against her chest. She had no real tits to grab, so I simply played with her nipple, feeling it harden from my touch.
“Are you on the pill?” I asked, pulling her shirt up and putting my hand between her legs. I pressed my hand against her cunt through her panties.
“Yeah.”
By the time we had both stripped, I had kissed her body all over, including her pussy that was slick and smooth, pink and hairless. I pretended not to notice the scars on her stick-thin arms and thighs. They stood out on her pale and thin skin as raised purple lines.
Her jagged ribs stretched her pale skin from the inside. It was marvelous how small she was, how frail her bones seemed, too many of them visible, yet they held in as much life as in any person. All organs; a beating heart, expanding lungs, a complex digestive system and the capacity to bear children, worked together to create a living woman, although one that could not be exactly considered healthy.
She had been glancing at my dick with wide eyes, troubled by the size and how it would fare with her body. She didn’t voice any fear, and was eager to be filled anyways. I teased her, sliding my cock on her vulva, then positioned myself at her entrance, ready to penetrate her. When I pushed forward, she recoiled a little. I was vividly reminded of my own first time that I’d shared with a girl in my class. Both of us virgins, it had taken some really awkward experimenting to find what felt comfortable for us, mainly her. Now I put two and two together and concluded that my suspicions were correct and Berry was a virgin herself. Wisened by my own experiences, I wanted to make sure that she didn’t feel like there was something wrong with her, and picked up an almost fatherly tone as I instructed her.
“Try to relax,” I said, letting her take a few breaths before I tried again.
“Ah! You’re so big,” Berry said. I didn’t get very far, she’d involuntarily moved away again.
“Let’s try something else,” I decided. I flipped our positions so that I was lying down and she was hovering above me, on her knees above my cock. When I’d moved her, my heart jumped as I thought I’d moved her too quickly and accidentally twisted one of her limbs out of place. Nothing had happened, yet I felt as if I was working with a porcelain doll.
Very slowly she lowered herself, taking me inside, moving back up before taking more. I had to concentrate to keep my hips steady and not thrust upwards lest I hurt her. My desperation increased as I realized that in the dim light of the bedside lamp I could see the outline of my cock drawn against her skin from the inside, casting a faint shadow that moved up and down as per her movements.
She finally came to rest on my hips, the bulge of my cock nearing her bellybutton. She had been watching the now you see it, now you don’t trick as closely as me, but now she looked me in my eyes with pride.
“Good girl,” I rightfully praised her. She grinded on me, like getting properly used to my size being inside her, then going up and down again, getting into the rhythms of riding me.
Berry gained some confidence and things got more heated up. Soon she found herself face down in the sheets, getting railed from behind. She had no muscle and was totally powerless against me. It was up to me to play nice and respect the limits of her body. Hitting a certain spot inside her made her squeeze the sheets into her fists and moan like, well, taking a huge cock into her virgin pussy for the first time. I held her in place with ease, making sure to nail her g-spot over and over until she came, which I could feel from the way not only her cunt but her entire body convulsed. She had been tight before, but now it felt like she was trying to suck me inside her with effort. It didn’t take me long to finish and I came inside, stretching her to her limits as the cum pulsed from my cock into her.
It was a tighter pussy and a hotter fuck than I’d ever had before.
Afterwards she was a total mess, sore all over. We talked, and by now she was entrusting me with a lot of her personal information.
What Berry told me ruled out any thoughts that I’d had about her having a medical condition of sorts; turned out her parents just didn’t feed her enough, since she was a little kid, and would additionally starve her as a punishment. Of course that must’ve caused problems for her, and resulted in her being so underdeveloped and weak.
I was an amateur photographer, and advised her that it would be for the best if there was concrete evidence of the abuse she had suffered. Of course I wouldn’t take nude photos of her, but she actually insisted that I do. She argued that it would most clearly show the state of her body. I think she didn’t fully realize just how abnormally skinny she was, although she must have had some frame of reference when going to school and seeing other girls her age. No wonder her parents hadn’t wanted her going out, that would’ve made her conscious of what was wrong with her.
I took photos of her body all over. Her skin bruised easily, and to an outsider she would have looked like a train wreck. Scars from cutting herself, old scars and bruises, and new bruises that were just beginning to form in the shapes of my hands, where I had held her when I fucked her.
I convinced her that she couldn’t go back home anymore. It would just mean facing more manipulation and abuse at the hands of her parents. She could live with me for now. She didn’t have many possessions, and I promised to buy her more than she’d had until then. We’d go shopping the next day, buy her clothes, make-up, shoes, anything she liked. My job could support us both until she found a job herself and could move out if she liked.
She cried and cried, saying I was too much for caring about her like this since we only just met. I told her I would do the same for anyone who needed help like her, which wasn’t exactly true. I wanted to keep her to myself, because I saw the potential in her to be an ideal girlfriend for me, or even a perfect wife and the mother to my children at a much later date.
She admitted to being only 16. Her parents would never let her run away since she was underage. I made her give me their number. I phoned her house, and her mother picked up. I didn’t let Berry hear what was said between us. I explained the situation, cut off the bitch’s whiny voice of protest and told her that I had documented proof of the abuse her child had gone through, so if she really went to the police to report the kidnapping of her daughter it would absolutely be her and her husband facing the consequences, and her daughter would be taken from her anyway by CPS. Now Berry at least had the chance to lead a free, happy life with a gentleman looking after her. That was the only time I ever spoke with Berry’s parents, they apparently decided to let their daughter go. Not like they ever had cared much for her. I could only imagine why they had ever had a child in the first place.
So, Berry moved in with me that night. I'd been looking for a girl like her, and she practically dropped from the sky into my hands. Later on I thought many times that if I hadn’t taken her in, she most likely would have died. Maybe that would’ve been the best thing to happen to her, better than what was to come.
That was a Friday night. We had the weekend to ourselves, and that very first weekend together settled the course our coexistence would take. Saturday was for shopping, and we indeed spent the day, the entire time stores were open, browsing through them. I spent hundreds on everything she wanted, which demonstrated the amount of trust I placed in the relationship to come. She wouldn't ever leave me.
We stopped for lunch, dinner and snacks, and our last stop was the grocery store. I had food at home, but this was the place where she truly went crazy when it dawned on her that she needn’t ever starve, or even feel hunger again. Candy, cookies, chips, soda, cakes, bread, meat, cheese, sauces. It was like letting a child pick out as much candy as it wished. She still held the mentality that if she didn’t take up the opportunity right now to its extreme, it would slip through her fingers and be lost forever. Our bags overflowed with food, enough for a family of a dozen people, and a lot of it would expire before we could eat it. She cried all the way from the checkout to the car, and kept sniffling the entire honeymoon ride home no matter how many times I begged her to stop crying.
I unloaded the car at home (quite sure she would’ve been crushed by the weight of a single bag that came from the supermarket) and she started emptying the bags in the bedroom that I’d chosen to be her room. We’d sleep there together, and I had a home office next to it that I rarely used anyway but it would do as my own room if I needed solitary time.
Now I also had her in an immense debt of gratitude. I could’ve technically ordered her to pay for everything that had been bought for her any time later on, so this encouraged her to always stay on my good side. Berry instinctually knew that staying on a boyfriend’s good side meant having sex with him any time he wanted. That guaranteed me an outlet for my sexual needs, that night and onwards.
She was shoving her face full of sweets the entire evening, terrified that I was going to lock the food away like her mother had done, although she wasn’t aware of this fear that gripped her. Brushing her teeth wasn’t enough of a signal that it was time to stop eating. Only when she had her throat full of my cock did she stop eating, and it was no problem for her to swallow my load.
She didn’t cut or harm herself in any way again, instead she found comfort in food. It made her feel good, a full stomach meant safety and abundance, and eating always stifled sobbing and made bad feelings dissipate. She ate, she ate until she was sick and she ate more and she threw up. Then she ate again. I was a little worried for her, but I let her make her own choices in her life. And letting her do whatever meant her life began revolving around food.
I devoted the entire Sunday to her, as well. She didn’t want to go out, instead we watched tv together.
On Monday, and the rest of the week, I went to work as usual. I was a manager at a local fast food company, it paid surprisingly well and the benefits were good. I could bring home basically as much food as I could carry, I’d never taken advantage of that before since I never had an appetite for fast food after working in the greasy restaurant the entire day. I started bringing Berry food, at first just a box of nuggets or onion rings, then multiple boxes that included fries, burgers, wings, extra sauces. She always finished everything the same evening, and I brought more the next day.
We picked up a habit of taking a photo of her every morning. I printed out multiple on the first days, putting them in my wallet, on the wall of my room.
In the first weeks I was quite lazy sometimes, not going to the gym or for a run as I had scheduled. Berry wasn’t going out, even though she could’ve easily enjoyed her new freedoms. She was definitely agoraphobic. I knew this because I never gave her a key to the house.
Rarely, if ever, did she come shopping with me again, and instead just left lists for me so that I could bring her what she had picked out from the magazine or a television ad.
We had sex every day. It was something for me to look forward to during work hours that felt like they dragged on forever. She was bloated as hell and still felt sick constantly. After the initial shock of her instantly moving in with me we found our experience of living together quite untroubled. She never complained or disagreed with me, and for a good while I felt as if I had a sentient sex toy living in my home, and I loved it. It gave and received love and kisses on top of being screwed all the time.
Berry was gaining weight, there was no overnight difference to her but she was changing, quite rapidly. The very first signs were that her hips got wider, her bones less pronounced through the skin. When the number of photos of her I had put up on the wall of my room reached one hundred, I compared the first one to the latest. Now she looked healthy, although still bloated since she carried a lot of water weight, her body struggling to take in all the energy she got from food and distributing it equally in her body. This resulted in her looking a little puffy in the face, with a big belly (what a nice nickname that’d make, Big Belly). The stretch marks on her abdomen and hips were fresh and red, drawn clearly on her skin among the other scars. Her skin, looking past the injuries, had been flawless, not a single clogged pore or blackhead visible. That wasn’t the case anymore, since upon very close inspection, I could see that she had some very slight bumps on her skin, pores oozing a natural oil and sweat that she’d lacked prior. Her practically pre-pubescent body had transformed into that of a teenager, and was soon to become a woman. Of course a short, narrowly-built one at that, but a woman nonetheless.
At this time, like in a transitive state, she was at her hottest. Her breasts had grown into small perky boobs that were just perfect for holding in my palms. She didn’t pay much attention to herself. She wasn’t interested in self-care or make-up (she only did enough to keep me satisfied) and didn’t seem to care either way that she was putting on a lot of weight.
I got home from work one day, oily and sticky as usual. I changed into an athletic t-shirt and shorts, slipped into my sneakers and went for a run. I was tracking my own progress, aiming to break my own records every week. It was a parallel to her development, and I was slacking off less from working out.
I jumped right into the shower when I got home. My muscles relaxed and my mind began drifting towards the night I’d be once again spending with my girlfriend. I dried myself and put the towel around my waist, then went to the living room where Berry greeted me with a smile, but quickly returned her attention to the tv. All she did was watch tv, eat, and read some magazines in between. Carefully, I guided her to lie down on her front and put her ass up in the air. Her loose pyjama bottoms came off, so did my towel that’d basically been held up by my erection.
She watched the program, her quiet moans the only sign that she took any heed of me making love to her. This was normal for us, that I just used her and she didn’t care. I was being realistic since I didn’t expect her to enthusiastically reciprocate every day, every time I felt like it. That day I was surprised by how wet she was, despite the “cold start” she’d got.
The reason became obvious when I looked down. Anything and everything that had been near her crotch was smeared in red, and that included my thighs, her ass, the blanket under us, not to mention her pussy, and my cock that I pulled out.
For a split second I thought it was a medical emergency, then felt stupid for forgetting something so obvious, then even more embarrassed by the fact that it had never crossed my mind before. The fact of the matter was that she had never had her period before. Not in the time we’d been together, I would’ve known, and I highly doubted that she’d ever began menstruating in the first place.
However, I was still aching for release and decided that it didn’t make much of a difference if I got it over with and only afterwards we’d start cleaning up. I had overcome my initial shock and decided to keep going. My skin was sweaty and it stuck to her like glue when I snapped my hips against her ass. My labored grunting softened into a groan when I slowed down the pace, teetering on the edge of orgasm. I stopped moving, cock all the way inside her, making a dent in her lower abdomen that I could feel with my hand as I reached under her, groping her belly and her breasts. I filled her with my hot seed that mixed with blood and oozed out.
“Honey,” I said quietly in her ear. “You’ve just had your period. Go jump in the shower. It’s alright, I’ll take care of everything.”
While Berry showered, I dumped her bloodied clothes along with the blanket in the washing machine, grabbed a rag soaked in cold water and soap and got to work with the couch, scrubbing it to not look like a fresh crime scene. I froze dead in my tracks. It was true that I’d not cared about her not getting periods; I had also never seen her take contraceptives, which she had once claimed to be using. And now that she was getting her period, it meant she could get knocked up, and might’ve been that way for a while by now. Just as recently as five minutes ago I’d last pumped her full of sperm.
On my way to the convenience store to buy pads I thought things over. Taking her to a doctor was out of the question. If she would not bring it up, which I doubted she would do, I would not either. She wasn’t stupid, she’d just been living under a rock. We’d just wait and see.
From then on, I used condoms religiously, and for the following months I prayed that she wasn’t pregnant. Eventually I could breathe a sigh of relief, since she was showing no symptoms. I supposed there was some very insignificant chance that a condom had failed at a later point in time, but put those worries out of my mind telling myself that it’d be dealt with if the stars really did misalign in that way. Her eighteenth birthday was approaching in a few more months, anyway.
She had lost her thigh gap a long while ago, and as I couldn’t fuck her cunt raw anymore, I did that to her thighs instead. She was chubby, sitting in my lap was a bit of a chore but it felt heavenly when she’d squeeze her legs together and rub my cock between them, against her skin that was padded with fat underneath and that had started to show cellulite. Her breasts were large and full, and that period of time, if ever, would have been the best for her to bear my children.
Since Berry had been so underweight her whole life, her body had learnt to conserve energy and put on as much weight as possible. She gained weight way faster than the average person, and she seemed to be going at it at an increasing pace. I made sure she was eating even when she wasn’t hungry. I’d ask her if she’d like dessert after eating a five-course meal already. If she said she wasn’t hungry anymore, I’d wait an hour and then bring her a cup of sugary tea, and offer to split a cake with her, but ultimately she’d get the lion’s share of it. There were snacks everywhere around the house, she didn’t need to get up from the couch to have a treat. I told her that her body needed energy to work, that she needed to take care of herself. I complimented her and told her she was pretty and that I loved her.
In the middle of winter there was no gardening to be done. I substituted half of my outside runs for a gym treadmill. I considered getting one at home for convenience, but decided ultimately against it, unsure of how it might affect her psyche.
On one depressingly dark night, I went to a bar with a friend of mine. I didn't have many friends and it was only very seldom that I saw them. I was on good terms with my coworkers but I was never interested in seeing them elsewhere.
Jack, an old classmate of mine, had asked me to a bar to have a drink with him. He was a social guy, but that time every one of his other friends must have turned him down for him to resort to my company. Why not, I thought, and we grabbed some beers together at a pub in the town center. Our conversation was for the most part so boring I found it damn near poetic how many empty words we could share and pretend to care about. It was meditative, something different than what I was used to. With Berry we talked little, but what we said always carried meaning. Eventually my talk with Jack came around concerning her.
“So, Will, do you have a girlfriend?” He asked after a long monologue about a skiing trip in the Alps with his wife. I was sure he would offer to get me the number of some beautiful single woman I admitted to be looking for one.
“Yeah, I do,” I said and dug out my favorite picture of Berry from my wallet. In it, she wore a summer dress and was sitting in my garden among the flowers. It had been a pain to convince her to come outside for just that one picture. She wasn’t smiling in it, just staring at the ground past her knees. Her face was glowing, fair hair flowing back in a gust of wind, like a model. She was young, flawless, beautiful, and she was mine.
Jack nodded approvingly. “You’re one lucky guy. You know, my wife, there was this time when she really…” He rambled on again.
I came home in the small hours, not to a perfect girl in my garden like in the picture, but to Berry, overweight and with a double chin, sleeping in our bed. I felt my heart shrivel into a marble-sized ball of disappointment.
She wasn’t as good-looking anymore. She had no self-control and was getting fatter. She was introverted and lazy and she was fat.
I knew she wouldn’t go back to being like in the photo. This entire time there was only one way things could go, and that was her eating more and more. At first it had done her good, but the point of moderation and betterment had been passed.
Berry became able to eat more and more in a single sitting, and I made sure she was always full. It was costly and I began to doubt what we were doing. I found myself less attracted to her, going back to look at those old pictures of her where she was curvy, but proportionate. Now she had multiple chins, her belly drooped in rolls of fat, her thighs were no longer smooth and silky. No longer could she take showers unassisted, but I knew I must clean her every day, since letting her start to smell was a horror I could not face. On top of blowing money on groceries I was also constantly buying her new clothes as she outgrew the old ones.
Berry tried to refuse food a few times, but her will was practically non-existent. She caved in very fast, and that just eroded whatever had been left of her determination until she didn’t know what refusing was anymore. We had sex less. Her tits were massive now, and so I’d slide my cock in between them and come on her face and neck. I did it because she didn’t like it that much. The way she flinched a little at cum shooting on her made me feel vindicated for the disgust that had started to brew in me.
I cooked for her and for myself separately. We never ate the same foods, since hers were coated in oil and sugar, with little nutritional value. Myself, I counted calories and nutrients, making sure to take in plenty of protein and fiber every day. Working out and running was showing results, and physically I felt better than ever. I was in great shape, lean, my muscles popping thanks to the lack of body fat. If I ever felt like not exercising, or slipping from my diet, I only needed to take one look at the sack of meat in the bedroom to feel motivated again. I had no appetite whatsoever when I was in the same room as her.
I didn't look forward to coming home from work anymore. The pictures showing her decline lined the wall of my room. She never went in there. She never went anywhere. I tended my garden, growing cucumbers and tomatoes and lettuce, none of which she ever ate. Too healthy for her taste, I supposed.
Berry was like a dog that slept over eighteen hours a day and did nothing while it waited for its owner to return. Aspects of her body were changing and she was getting uglier. She’d started getting pimples. She always felt greasy to touch. When she had been rail-thin, it had been cute when she licked her fingers after finishing an entire box of donuts. Always a messy eater, now it truly looked like a pig stuffing its face full.
I took up on lacing her food and drinks with my cum. Sometimes I’d hide it, like make a sauce or bake a cake with a special ingredient. Other times I simply watched porn while cooking and came on top of the food, then presented the plate to her just like that. She didn’t get picky, she rarely even looked twice at what she was putting inside her. She was a whore for food, letting herself get completely lost in it and letting it use her. Would she realize if I served her a dish consisting of shit? Would she mind, or make any reaction? I didn’t care to find out.
Once I watched her nearly choke to death. Her fingers clawed at her throat, her eyes wet and bulging. I stood in a trance the whole time. It was glorious to watch her, just seconds away from passing out and dying. But fate stepped in, and the massive clump of peanut cookie lodged in her windpipe came loose and went flying across the room. My eyes followed it, just to have something other than her to look at, coughing and wheezing, the sounds filling the room like they were a part of her flesh, pressing in on me on all sides. She was a weight on me and managed to slide into my ears, boring into my brain until it bled and it felt as if it was now me who was the one suffocating.
My feelings towards her had soured, and we spent less time together. I’d only fuck her if she insisted. I couldn’t get hard from the way she looked anymore, so I had to get a little creative. What ended up working the best for me was ceasing to think of her as a human anymore, and in my mind she was just a piece of meat that was still breathing and pumping blood. So alive, joining with my own flesh, yet ultimately empty inside. It made me want to tear into her with my teeth like a wild animal, maul her with my teeth and be coated in her thick blood. Maybe what lay under her skin was in truth one big, swelling cyst, begging cut and drained.
Until then, I had kept all of my feelings to myself, and she had chosen to not care. But I slipped up, and lost in my fantasy, I called her a pig when we were fucking. That was ultimately the last time we had sex. I could barely even get to her vagina anymore, hidden in the jiggling mounds of fat.
She brought it up afterwards.
“Do you think I’m disgusting?”
“Of course not, dear.”
“You don’t have to say that, Will.”
“You’re beautiful just the way you are, I love you.” I kissed her tears away, and it might’ve just been my imagination, but I could’ve sworn they tasted more sweet than salty.
“Don’t lie to me, please. Tell me to change, and I’ll do it. I’ll lose weight so that you’ll be happy again.”
“I don’t want you to lose weight.”
“You hate me that much?” Berry’s voice became shrill. “You want a reason to keep hating me.”
“Shut up and listen to me. I said I love you.”
“No, Will, I know I’m fat and ugly and you’ve never loved me!”
She was mixing up the kernel of truth with her own lack of confidence. I’d had enough, and if that was the game she was going to play, I’d go along.
“You know what, you’re completely right. I fucking loathe you, you sack of shit. I can’t wait for you to eat yourself to death so I can finally get rid of you. Get a heart attack already, you filthy pile of pork shit.”
“I’ll stop eating! I’ll starve until I’m thin again or I die!”
I left and slammed the door behind me. Hell, she can do whatever she wants.
Yet she had an addiction and that wasn’t to go away just like that. That same evening she was resorting to the one thing that never changed, never let her down, and that was binge-eating until she was ready to burst open. If I took a knife and slit her open, her insides and the half-digested food would come pouring out like an abscess full of pus had been popped and squeezed.
I’d gone for a run and when I came back, I could hear a mix of muffled sobbing and metal clinging against glass. I creaked open the bedroom door, and there she was, greedily eating an entire chocolate cake, smearing it like shit on her face, shoving it down her throat, nearly choking on it. Cake was probably spilling from her rotting cunt, too, and I couldn’t believe I’d once screwed it with passion.
Her self-destructiveness was making her rely on food for everything she experienced, and that way, rely on me entirely. She saw the grave she was digging for herself, but she couldn’t let go of the shovel. It was an obsession for both of us. I was beginning to find a morbid beauty in the anticipation that I felt, awaiting her inevitable death.
Berry reached her full size. She was unable to stand properly anymore, and couldn’t walk a single step without my help. She’d die if I stopped taking care of her, like an infant without its mother around to feed it. Just leaving for a week would cause her to die right there in the bedroom and become a bloated, putrefying corpse infested with maggots by the time I returned.
I’m sure she fantasized about dying, about killing herself like pretty girls her age do because she found out her boyfriend doesn’t love her. To overdose, she’d need more meds than everything I had in the house combined. Maybe she’d slit her wrists instead, and watch the many, many little beads of fat exposed in the midst of her blood pooling on the floor. She could not even make it to the bathroom to die in the bathtub if she wanted to.
And she reeked. If you let a pig into your house, it automatically becomes a pigpen. She no longer went to the bathroom, and it was up to me to clean her as best as I could, change her diapers and wipe her with a wet rag. A hopeless task, and I knew that it wouldn’t last. The odor was sickly, just her piss smelled sugary.
I went to the bar with Jack again, on another dark and cold night. My mind was elsewhere when I talked with him. I was thinking about Berry, about what could be done with her. I thought about how great I looked in contrast to her, and even Jack had commented that I looked shredded.
“How’s your girlfriend doing?” He asked later into the night.
I paused to consider what could be said. “She’s dying.”
Jack took my hesitation to mean that it was a difficult subject for me. “God, I’m so sorry to hear that, Will. Is she sick?”
When I didn’t answer he assumed the worst and started babbling.
“That’s so awful, just let me know if there’s anything I can do. And she was so young. I hope she doesn’t have to suffer.”
“I’d like that too,” I said thoughtfully.
“You know, just between you and me, I think euthanasia should be legalized. There’s no reason to just prolong the inevitable and leave people in pain. We put pets out of their misery, it would only be humane to do the same for people. Oh, sorry if this comes off as insensitive, I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
“No, you’re exactly right, Jack,” I said. After a long pause, I continued. “It’s getting late, I should head back home. I’ll give Phoebe your best.”
Getting back home meant going back into the smell, to the cramped space filled by her rancid presence as well as her soiled consciousness clinging to every surface, every molecule of the air itself.
My mind was made up. Berry was a pig, and what happens to a pig that has been fattened up to a truly satisfactory extent? You make it squeal. Stun it, hang it from the ceiling on a meat hook, slit its neck. Watch the blood pool on the floor and slowly down the drain.
I broke her skull with a frying pan, slamming it into her with full force. I kept going and going, I was sweaty and my hair was a mess but she wasn’t dying. Droplets of blood and Berry’s teeth had flown around everywhere. Her nose was caved in and the whites of her eyes had turned red with burst blood vessels. She was making a croaking sound that I could hear the entire time when I walked to the kitchen and back to her. I impaled her neck with a fillet knife.
Dying, becoming a carcass, didn’t make Berry lose her humanity. She hadn’t had that for a long time, even when her heart had desperately thumped in her chest, unable to escape the cage that was her slowly decaying body, its veins clogging with calcium buildup, struggling so hard to keep up with the strain.
The composition of her body was chiefly fat, and I felt no point in eating her. Dumping her in a waste disposal of a slaughterhouse would make her fit right in. No one would ever know that there was ever a person, a child, there, now buried under heaps of lard, no one but me and the collection of pictures showcasing the life of this little piggy. Dragging her around the house was a huge chore, but hitting the gym had paid off.
My hands were covered in blood up to the elbows, no, shoulders. Coated in her gore, I felt every muscle in my strong body tense and swell. And for the first time in months (or has it been years?) my cock throbbed at the thought of Berry.