Arno had just arrived in Verdan to complete his higher studies, when he met Syrtanyelle. She was going to have a room close to his and share the kitchen and the bathroom with him. She was a thin girl of about his height, and her face was one of the fairest Arno had ever seen. He immediately liked her, felt dragged toward her. And yet he held back because he was afraid. He had never been in a relationship with a girl before. He dreamt of a pure love, but he was not at all at ease with his sexuality.
During the days, they each went to their separate studies at university, and at night they sometimes cooked and ate at the same time. Syrtanyelle was from Melroel, another small nation of the world that had an interesting and mysterious history, like Falnë. So at night Arno and Syrtanyelle often discussed of their homelands, telling one another stories about it.
One day, Syrtanyelle asked Arno if he liked her. He said he did, of course. She looked into his eyes and asked him if he wanted to be with her. Arno felt a rush of something going through his body, and another thing that stopped that rush. He blushed deeply. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what he wanted. Syrtanyelle continued to look into his eyes and came closer to him, and she brushed very lightly his lips with hers. Arno blushed even more deeply, if that was possible. He didn’t move, remained frozen. He didn’t know what to do. There was something about him that felt blocked, wrong. He should have felt something, done something. But he just couldn’t, and that made him panic. But Syrtanyelle was not your usual girl, and she could read Arno’s emotions quite well. She saw his fear, his panic, and her heart ached for him. She sat on another chair close to his.
“Do I attract you?” she asked.
Arno stuttered. “No!… Yes… I don’t know.” He felt even more stupid and ashamed. Why in the hell was he so blocked.
Syrtanyelle came closer and placed her hand on Arno’s pants, guessing where should be his penis. It had slightly hardened, but it wasn’t so large, as large as she’d have thought. “You’re not so attracted, are you?”
Arno blushed again, and didn’t say anything. It was better not to speak, and not to look into her eyes. How could she do that to him, suck away all his will, make him so undecided? Was she the right person for him? Did he love her? Arno didn’t know, didn’t know. Something that should have been present was missing deep within him.
Syrtanyelle wasn’t put off by Arno’s silence. It seemed she could read his mind, and as nervous and ill-at-ease was Arno with his body, as confident she was and fluent were her motions. She placed her hand on Arno’s chin in a maternal way, and yet there was something commanding about her gesture. “Is there something that attracts you? That turns you on?”
Arno was forced to look into her eyes, and her hand on his face made all his barriers and his self-control crumble. He felt he could not lie to her. And yet the words weren’t coming out.
“So, tell me?” she whispered with genuine sweetness.
Arno still hesitated. With her other hand, Syrtanyelle took his left hand and stroked it in her palm. Arno was still silent but a bubble of words and emotions was forming in his throat.
“Tell me my dear,” she whispered.
And then it was too much, the bubble exploded, and Arno started sobbing and talking at once. “It’s absurd, absurd. I like weight gain… I am attracted when a thin girl puts on a bit of weight.”
“Really?” Syrtanyelle whispered.
“I’ve been attracted to that idea since I was a kid. But I haven’t told anyone about it before. I’m so ashamed now.”
Syrtanyelle stroked his cheek, and she brought his face closer to her, and she gave him another light kiss. “Why are you so scared my dear? Why are you so scared of your own body?”
Arno rubbed a few tears from his face, without saying anything.
She placed her hand on his pants another time, but his erection was entirely gone. “Would it turn you on if I put on some weight for you?” she asked.
Suddenly Arno’s body burst with something he could not control, and for the first time he felt the touch of a woman of his hardened penis. A part of his body he never dared to touch.
“I see,” Syrtanyelle said softly. “It is good to let your body speak for itself sometimes, really good. It is something the lore of Melroel teaches.” She came closer from Arno again, and kissed him a third light kiss on his mouth. Then she introduced her hand into his shirt and caressed his neck and his chest. Arno felt tinglings of pleasure there. He had never experienced anything like that, apart from that old dream of his, a long time ago.
“So,” Syrtanyelle asked, “do you want me to gain some weight for you?”
Waves of pleasure streamed through Arno’s body, and Syrtanyelle felt his penis hardening even more under her touch. “How many kilograms would you like me to gain?”
Arno shivered with pleasure and fear. “I do not want you to gain weight,” he managed to say, “it is only a fantasy.”
“Is it, though?” Syrtanyelle came closer and kissed him for the fourth time, and this time she let her mouth slip kissing him all along the cheek to his ear. “Fantasy sometimes ought to be lived too, and they could even be sweeter than reality. Don’t you think my dear?”
“I do not want you to gain weight,” Arno repeated.
“It is my body under further notice my dear, and I do what I like with it.”
“But it is wrong, to gain weight on purpose. And besides I don’t want it.”
“Who is lying my dear, you, or your body?” Syrtanyelle whispered, as she slowly unbuttoned the button of his pant, unzipped the zipper, and made some room for his penis she held and stroked. “How can you honestly tell me you do not want me to gain weight? In Melroel it is a grave offense to go against what your own body wants. Since we are children we learn to listen to our bodies. Don’t they teach you that in Falnë too?”
Falnë was something Arno could speak about, even in his uncomfortable position. “In Falnë the religion teaches we’re not supposed to have sex before the marriage, nor to cheat on our spouse. If we were to listen only to our bodies, that would be quite difficult.”
“And that’s why you don’t want to have sex with me, my dear?” Syrtanyelle whispered in his ear.
“I don’t care that much about the religion. Old Falnë fascinates me much more, and it doesn’t encourage or prohibits anything, but seeking truth and love.”
“And why do you want to go against the truth of your body then my dear?”
“Because it is not a truth. It is wrong to want to fatten someone. It is simply something I do not want. Something I would like to tear off my body. Since I am young, I dream of the day I will be able to control this attraction entirely, and stop thinking about it.”
“What if you have to live it before, my dear?”
“Of course I don’t.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” and Syrtanyelle came closer to him and kissed him again. Then she tried to remove his shirt, and he let himself go like a child. She started kissing and licking his chest, his neck, his pectorals and Arno felt waves of ecstasy in all his body, and he felt deeply relaxed despite his anguishes. “What exactly attracts you of the weight gain my dear?”
“The rounding of the belly, when it becomes softer… the ass and the breasts… the hips… but especially the belly when it gets pudgy.” Arno said these words with evident difficulty.
“Oh, that is interesting,” Syrtanyelle said.
“Oh no, nothing is disgusting my dear, and there is a lot of beauty in you.”
“Perhaps but surely not this…”
Syrtanyelle interrupted Arno with a kiss. She took off her shirt a little bit, showing her skinny belly to Arno. “How would you like me adding a small layer of fat on this belly?” And she stroked her flat belly, and pinched her inexistent hips. “How would you like me to eat for you?”
“I don’t want it.”
“Or would you perhaps like to nourish me as you wish?”
“I will not make you eat.”
Syrtanyelle came closer again, very, very close from his face. “I will do as I wish my dear. And my wish is to start putting on some weight for you.”
Arno felt elated and yet another part of him was horrified. “Why do you want to do this, Syrtanyelle?”
“Why because I’m very attracted to you, and I want you to be as attracted to me.”
“But it is wrong.”
“Oh no, it isn’t my dear. I am doing the very right thing.” And she kissed him lightly. “The teachings of Melroel state that if my body is attracted to someone, I should act upon it and explore this attraction. By not doing it I would be committing a grave fault to my soul.”
Arno swallowed the words of protest that didn’t want to go out. With Syrtanyelle his will became very weak. Perhaps his weakness came from this discrepancy within himself, this conflict that he couldn’t or didn’t want to resolve, and his incapacity to take a decision.
After a moment of reflection, Arno said firmly, almost angrily. “I will not be attracted to you, no matter what. Whether you are skinny, or rounder, I will not be attracted to you, nor seduced by you. And now I’m tired, I will go to sleep.” And Arno rose, putting on his shirt, buttoning his pants, and he went to his room, closing and locking his door.
He had a troubled night, and one part of him regretted to have turned down Syrtanyelle in this way. He liked her quite a lot after all, and despite her strangeness, he valued very much his growing friendship with her. And another part of him just thought of her fattening up for him. She had the perfect body for Arno, and if she put on weight it would be so, so attracting. But Arno pushed these thoughts away.
The next day, Arno woke up and went about his daily activities. At night when he came back home he found Syrtanyelle in the kitchen. She was cooking and tasty scents filled Arno’s nostrils. He went to his room to leave his bag, put his slippers, relax a moment, and then he came back to the kitchen to cook his supper, but Syrtanyelle told him she had counted him too.
So Arno let her serve him a plate, and he sat on the table in front of her, and they started eating. It was some sort of grains and legumes with many vegetables and a salty sugary taste. Arno liked it, even if it was unfamiliar. When he was done with his plate Syrtanyelle asked him if he wanted more. He said he had well-eaten and made himself a salad, while Syrtanyelle served herself a second plate. Arno looked at her while she was eating.
When Arno was done he ate and apple and he offered one to Syrtanyelle. But she said she’d eat it later, as she wasn’t done with her meal. She had bought two boxes of creamy chocolate biscuits typical of those you found in Verdan, and she started eating the biscuits while drinking a glass of milk. Arno looked at her with fascination, even though he tried very hard to appear careless.
“Do you enjoy seeing me eating more than I should?” whispered Syrtanyelle.
Arno’s throat was too dry to respond. She rose with her biscuit boxes and a second glass of milk she had served herself, and came to sit very close to Arno, and she placed one of her hands on his pants, where it had hardened. She gulped down her second glass of milk while looking at him to see his reaction. Then she ate two other biscuits, and another one, and yet another one. She was eating fast. She served herself a third glass of milk. Her stomach was still very flat as she was skinny, but Arno started imagining her gaining a bit of weight.
Syrtanyelle continued to eat cookies and drink milk, until she had eaten the two boxes of biscuits and six glasses of milk, the entire bottle. She burped slightly when she was done, and came closer to Arno and kissed his mouth with hers that tasted of chocolate and milk. She took Arno’s hand and placed it on her bloated stomach that was very filled and hard.
“I don’t want any of that,” Arno cried, and he rose abruptly.
“Oh you don’t, my dear? It’s a pity because I haven’t finished my eating for tonight. You won’t see me eat the chocolate I brought if you go in your room.”
But Arno was angry with her, and anger made him stronger. He went to his room and shut his door. And there various images flocked his mind and he needed to fight them to chase them away, and he felt so thorn he thought he’d go crazy. He tried to read, he tried to write, he tried to sleep but he could do none, and he remained in his bed, his mind and body filled with anguishes, trying to find a rest that eluded him.
After a long moment, Arno had already turned off his light but he was still asleep, a knock came at his door. He rose and opened the door, almost happy to be disturbed off his waking nightmare. It was Syrtanyelle who had come in pyjama.
“Can I sleep in your bed?” she whispered.
Arno didn’t say anything, and she showed her way in his room.
Involuntarily he looked at her body, at her ass, at her breasts that looked so eager and so inviting. At her hips and at her flat belly that seemed slightly rounded because of all the food she had consumed. Syrtanyelle smiled. “You are starting to appreciate me, it seems,” she said. “Come, I’m going to show you a little more.”
She took off her shirt and her pants while keeping her panties, and pirouetted in front of him. She wore no bras and for the first time Arno saw the breasts of a woman, at so short a distance from him. Indeed her belly was a little bloated. And following his gaze Syrtanyelle started touching it and massaging it. “I’ve eaten way too much,” she said slowly.
She also caressed the rest of her body, her breasts, her chest, her hips, her ass, her legs, as Arno sat on the bed. Then she came very close to him and kissed him, and Arno felt all the warmth of her naked body drawing him toward her, calling to him. She kissed him on his lifeless lips, on his cheeks, she went down on his neck. She took off his pyjama shirt and started kissing and licking him on the chest. She went down with her mouth to his navel, and still down till the beginning of his soft pants. Arno felt his body shivering with pleasure and desire, and yet his mind said a stubborn no. He could not act on it, he could not.
But as stubborn as he was, Syrtanyelle seemed even more stubborn, and she stroked his penis under his pants, and she kissed him again. And as Arno was drowning into the ecstasy that her caresses procured to him, she abruptly stopped, put on her shirt and pants again, and said it was time to sleep. She turned off the lights and huddled close to Arno. Having her close blew away Arno existential questionings and he just relaxed into the warmth and tenderness she had brought to his bed. He slept well but early in the morning he woke up and watched Syrtanyelle who was sleeping and he started fantasizing about her gaining a bit of weight, and all his body became alert and his penis hardened and Arno felt ashamed of himself.
It wasn’t long before Syrtanyelle woke up and kissed Arno and stroked him a bit. Then she took off her shirt from under her pant and showed her belly to Arno, which had returned to its usual flat state. “Don’t you want to feed me this morning, my dear?” she whispered in her ear with so much sensuality Arno felt her voice going through his limbs like a wave of warmth.
Arno didn’t reply. Syrtanyelle asked him if he’d be attracted if she brought a scale to weight herself every day. He still didn’t reply, but Syrtanyelle smiled gently and kissed him again.
“Why do you want to do this, Syrtanyelle?” Arno eventually said.
“I already told you my dear. It is because I am very attracted to you.”
“But you do not love me.”
“How can you know that?”
“You don’t even know me well.”
“My mind does not know you well. But my heart feels a familiarity with you, and my body seems to know you very well,” she said. “Don’t you feel that?” she winked at him while touching him in his most sensitive parts.
“Have you ever been… with a boy?”
“No I haven’t, yet,” Syrtanyelle said, and looked at him straight into the eyes. Arno shuddered. It sounded like a sweet promise and a threat.
“You said you always needed to live your attraction. What about men who like little girls for instance?” Arno asked.
“You can only be with a person who is attracted to you too. The right way is to confess to that person that you are attracted by her, and ask her if she is attracted to you too, and if she is not then you shall not touch her. So the man will not be with the little girl except if she too wants to be with him. The will of each person is sacred in my homeland.”
“But you are not truly respecting that rule with me.”
“I do have my own interpretations of rules sometimes. And besides, it is clear to me you are attracted too and you want me to gain some weight for you.”
That morning was the week’s end, and they didn’t have university. Syrtanyelle kissed Arno a goodbye and said she needed to do some groceries.
When she was gone Arno shaved and showered, then he ate his breakfast, and he started going through his usual occupations. Reading some books for university, reading stories for himself, writing those he imagined and drawing. He’d later go out take the air for the weather was fair.
But he had just gone through his university readings when Syrtanyelle knocked at his door. He opened. She seemed excited and joyous.
“I’ve bought a scale,” she said. “Do you want to weight me?”
Arno remained silent. She didn’t wait for his reply. She took the scale off its box and brought it. Then she kissed Arno for a moment and hugged him. She climbed on the scale. “50 kilograms,” she read. “How much would you like me to gain?”
Arno still didn’t speak, his throat dry with desire.
“Perhaps I will gain to 55 kilograms,” she touched his penis and kissed him, “or even 60 or 65 kilograms.” Arno shuddered with anticipation of pleasure and intellectual fascination. He started seeing images in his mind. Syrtanyelle kissed him again. “I will go on and on until you lose control, until you come and kiss me and grab me like I want to be kissed and desired.”
She had not only brought the scale from her morning groceries, but she had also bought a large box of cakes. “These are Berken doughnuts,” Syrtanyelle told Arno. “I asked which were the most filling cakes and they showed me those, they said they needed a lot of sugar and cream and butter in the north to withstand the winter. One of those is enough to fill a man for a two hours hike in the snow.” There were six of them in the box.
She took a Berken doughnut from the box and started eating it in front of Arno. She also served herself a glass of milk that she drank in a few gulps. “I’ve found whole milk,” she said to Arno.
Arno went into his room but she followed him with the box of doughnuts and the milk as he had left the door open behind him. She sat on the bed close to him and she passed an arm behind his neck.
“Why are you so afraid my dear? Don’t you like what I am doing for you?”
“… I do… a bit too much…”
“But you’re not doing any harm.”
“Yes I am, I don’t want you to gain weight because of me.”
“I’m gaining weight for myself. I’ve always been too flat. Imagine me with some more womanly curves. Wouldn’t it be attractive?”
“I don’t want it nevertheless.”
“I already told you you didn’t get to choose my dear,” Syrtanyelle whispered, while starting to eat her second Berken doughnut. She also started drinking the milk directly from the bottle as she had not brought a glass.
Soon she started her third doughnut. The cakes were quite voluminous and Arno was fascinated and horrified to see her eat so much. “Don’t you want to rub my stomach to ease my bloat?” said Syrtanyelle.
Arno put his hand very shyly on her shirt over her bloated flat stomach, but then he retired it again as though he had been burnt. “No,” he said.
But she kissed him and took his hand and placed it under her shirt on her stomach, and Arno’s hardened penis assumed huge dimensions. “Come, come, my dear, you need to love yourself and love your body. She unbuttoned his pants to help him make some space for his erection and she stroked him.
She was now eating her fourth Berken doughnut and had drunk more than a half of the milk bottle. When she was done she belched and started rubbing her belly. She farted once, and belched again. That turned on Arno even more, because it showed how much she had eaten. She came over him and kissed him, and said she knew she could let her body speak freely, because whatever she’d do would attract him. Her stomach was distended and Arno reached to it with his hand and caressed it a bit. Syrtanyelle kissed him again, and said that he had deserved she ate a little more even though she was already very full. And she bit into her fifth doughnut, the chocolate and the cream and the sugar flowing into her mouth. And she drank gulps of milk. Arno continued to rub her belly. When she was done she kissed him again, and this time she introduced her tongue into Arno’s mouth. For a moment Arno seemed to melt before this ultimate caress, but then suddenly he pushed her away and said that he didn’t want of it and needed to be doing things outside. Syrtanyelle looked at him with tenderness and didn’t do a motion to retain him or call him back. Arno walked nervously around his room. Buttoned his pants. Took his bag that he filled with whatever came under his hand, not knowing exactly where he’d go, perhaps to the library, and he fled. I’ll eat the sixth doughnut and finish the bottle of milk before lunch, Syrtanyelle said softly. Arno literally run outside and for a moment his worries drowned under a beautiful sunshine that was a rare event in Vilnent’s falls. But after a while he started regretting having gone, and wondering if Syrtanyelle was eating the sixth doughnut. One part of him wanted to come back, but another part of him was firm in its resolve, and he stayed away but couldn’t focus on anything he was doing. He ended up sitting on a bench and drawing the fields and the forest around the river and the hills in the distance. Very luckily, the university was in the countryside of the sprawling metropolis of Verden, and there still was some greenery around him. Verden counted eight million inhabitants and its forest of concrete and glass towers was unlike anything Arno had ever seen, and he had felt very oppressed inside the city, surrounded by thousands of racing cars, in a sea of concrete with just a few trees here and there that seemed clones or pictures of one another.
For two weeks, Syrtanyelle continued to eat all the time in front of Arno. She bought cakes and pastries and doughnuts and chocolate and milk and stuffed herself every day, in addition of her normal meals. Arno looked at her with a mixture of fascination and horror and disgust, but he never let himself go to his attraction. Each night Syrtanyelle came to sleep in his bed, and he accepted her presence – he even longed for it. But he never encouraged her, except by the involuntary signs and responses his body gave her. She continued to kiss him and caress him, but they didn’t go any farther.
It was week’s end morning two weeks and a day since Syrtanyelle had for the first time eaten for Arno. She woke up close to Arno in his bed, while Arno was wondering if she had not put on a little weight. She kissed him and took his hands and placed them on her stomach. Then she made them slip to her hips, to her ass that was in her pyjama, and to her breasts. She felt Arno’s tension and attraction. She kissed him again. “I’m going to weight myself,” she said.
She brought the scale from her room and stepped on it, and Arno couldn’t take his gaze off her. “It’s what I thought,” Syrtanyelle said, “my pants seemed a little bit tighter. I’ve put on four kilograms, I now weigh 54 kilograms, come see Arno.” And Arno looked over the scale, and from the scale to her body. Her belly was still almost flat but a little curved outward, her hips a tiny bit fuller, and as she pirouetted it seemed that her ass had grown a bit too. She was still very thin, but a little more full and soft, and that attracted Arno like never before. He came to her and touched her naked belly. He tried to feel and grab its softness. Then she sat on the bed and a tiny roll formed over her panties. She kissed Arno with passion and introduced her tongue in his mouth. He didn’t push her back this time. “I’m coming back my dear,” she said. And she came back with several boxes of biscuits and sweets and a bottle of milk and some chocolate, and she started eating in front of Arno, on his bed. She had also brought her tightest pants that she put on. She could still close them, but there was no room in them anymore. “I’m going to become softer and softer every day my dear,” she whispered into Arno’s ear, “and even more if you feed me yourself.”
She ate and drank the milk while massaging her stomach and kissing Arno from time to time. Her belly that was already a little bit rounder and softer stretched until it came slightly over her pants, and she needed to open them to breathe. She continued eating until she had polished the three boxes of sweets and the chocolate and the entire bottle of milk. “It’s getting easier to eat a lot, and I’m loving it,” she whispered into Arno’s ear. She burped several times. She kissed him and for the first time he replied to her kiss, and she started taking off his shirt, and she took off hers, and Arno started stroking her round belly that was bloated with food. She took off his pants, and then her pants too, and she stood and showed her body to Arno. Her rounder ass, her belly that stuck forward because of the slight added weight and all the food, her hips and her breasts that were a little fuller, and Arno came to her, and she hugged him and she felt his penis pressed against her thighs. She kissed him with more passion, and used her tongue too. Arno responded to her. He touched her belly, her hips, her ass, her chest, and he suddenly pressed her very strongly against him.
“Do you want me to eat something more for you my dear” she asked. She felt Arno shudder with desire, and she went to the kitchen and came back with a Berken doughnut and a banana. She ate them as Arno caressed her body, and she felt his hands always slipping back toward her belly. “Touch me as much as you desire, and wherever you like most,” she whispered to him. “I love it when you touch my round belly that I’m making fatter for you.”
She ate the doughnut and the banana and her belly became even tighter. “Do you want me to eat something else?” she asked him. But Arno was suddenly scared of what he was doing. She had already gained four kilograms by his fault, and she’d soon become fat if she continued eating like that. And he did not find fat beautiful even if he was attracted to chubbiness. And it wasn’t healthy either. They needed to stop this game. He felt he had been in a dream, a nightmare, for two weeks.
“No, it’s enough he said. We need to stop. It’s bad.”
Syrtanyelle laughed and kissed him tenderly. “Are you kidding my dear? I want to reach at least sixty kilograms to see how it feels and looks, and I want you to be so attracted to me you entirely let go of your blockages.”
“Because I desire it very dearly. Because I want you to be happy.”
“But it is not that that makes me truly happy.”
“How can you know?”
“It’s not sane.”
“Well I decide what I do of myself my dear. And you won’t find any motive to complain,” Syrtanyelle said softly, placing his hands on her rounded belly. “I will get chubbier for you.”
Two other weeks passed, and as days elapsed the weight gain of Syrtanyelle became more and more obvious. She was still thin, but Arno could notice she was becoming softer and curvier. She was eating doughnuts and biscuits and drinking whole milk every night before sleeping. And he felt she filled better and better her clothes. A morning she brought her tighter pants and tried them in front of Arno, and as they arrived to her thighs and her ass, she needed to struggle with them to go up, and they could barely close over her belly as she held her breath and sucked in her stomach. Her belly rounded and stuck out over the pants. Her breasts seemed larger and softer too under her shirt. Her ass was rounder, her hips were fuller. Arno took her strongly against him and he stroked all her body. She took off her pants, and he could feel the softness of her belly, of her thighs, of her hips. He felt so, so turned on that he started kissing her, and she replied and immediately their tongues met and Arno felt a part of Syrtanyelle inside of him and it was the most agreeable thing he had ever felt and he suddenly wanted more, much more. He strangely was feeling more and more at ease with her, despite all his blockages and his fears. But Syrtanyelle stopped him for a moment, and she stroked his penis under his pants, and she took down his pants. Then she tried her soft pants that shaped marvellously her new curves. Her belly was rounder and had an existence of its own. All her body was soft and invited Arno to lose himself into it.
Syrtanyelle whispered into Arno’s ear she’d go to the kitchen and fetch something to eat, as she felt very hungry. She came back with a box of nine doughnuts and a bottle of milk. And she also brought the scale. She stepped onto it, and it indicated 59 kilograms. She had taken five more kilograms since the last time, nine more since the beginning. Arno couldn’t contain himself and his erection rode his underpants up and made his penis appear underneath. Syrtanyelle came to him and sat on his knees, and she kissed him passionately. Arno held her from her hips, he stroked her round belly that melted in his hands like dough. He touched her round breasts. And she started eating there, on his knees, one doughnut after another and she drank whole milk, and Arno could see her belly further extending and hardening slightly with all the food. But it had become so soft it still was malleable and pudgy under his hand. Midway through her eating she tried again her soft pants, and even these had become tight and shaped her curves in a way Arno could not resist to.
“Do you like it?” she breathed to him.
“Oh yes, I do,” Arno said.
“Do you want me to eat more?”
“Oh yes please do.”
And Syrtanyelle kissed him again, and then she took her fifth Berken doughnut and started biting in it. She stroked her belly and pinched it to show Arno her fat. The voice in Arno’s mind that wanted him to resist had been muted so strong was his attraction. She continued making her way through the doughnuts and the milk, stroking from time to time her belly and Arno’s penis that rode in his underpants. When she was finished she tried again her sweatpants and her belly rode forward with all what she had eaten, and Arno noticed how shapely her ass had become. She stripped again and lied close to him in bed on her side, showing him her curvy belly and caressing it. Seeing Arno’s struggle with his underpants she took them off. But then she saw Arno’s shame and embarrass on his face. He had never been naked before a woman, before anyone else. She threw himself on him and kissed him and filled his mouth with her tongue until he started to forget about his embarrass. She kissed him along his neck, his chest, his navel, his lower belly, until she started kissing his penis. Arno tried to protest, but she hushed him and it was so divinely agreeable he abandoned to her caresses. She started sucking his penis and Arno felt himself harden as he never had before. He still looked at the curves of her body and marvelled at them. She stopped for a while and kissed him again on the mouth, and she asked him if he wanted her to continue. Arno didn’t say anything. Syrtanyelle laughed softly and said that after eating all this food for him, it was also right to eat something directly from him, and as he had never wanted to feed her, she’d take her own pleasure herself. And she started kissing all his shivering and feverish body again, and she came back to his manhood and started sucking him again. She did it almost with rage and frenzy, and Arno lost all control he still had. He entirely abandoned himself to the waves of pleasure he felt as his body too started moving in rhythm with Syrtanyelle. He moved and moved until his breathing became a jerk and he thought all the blood of his body was gone, and suddenly a warm liquid exploded from him into Syrtanyelle’s mouth, and he continued to move frantically for a while. Then he became very quiet, and felt all the worries and tensions and fears in his body had been washed away. Syrtanyelle came over him again and kissed him. Arno rested for a bit while she continued kissing him and licking his chest and stroking the rest of his body.
“You have been very brave today my dear,” she said. “Do you want me to eat something more?”
Immediately a sexual tension returned in Arno’s body, and he felt his desire was not quenched yet. He didn’t reply.
“Do you want to feed me yourself and fatten me?”
Arno still didn’t say anything, and Syrtanyelle rose and brought several chocolate bars and a box of biscuit and some candies. She opened a chocolate bar and started eating again. Then another one, and another one. Her belly was still distended from all the doughnuts and the milk, but she continued eating. Arno sat and started caressing her belly, and she kissed him. She continued eating and eating until Arno lost control again and started holding her hips and kissing her. She was so soft and round between his hands. She surely wasn’t chubby, but she wasn’t as skinny as before. And by eating so she’d gain more weight.
Syrtanyelle let herself melt between Arno’s hands. He made her lie down on the bed and he came atop of her. He kissed her and pressed his nudity on her. He then noticed she still had her panties on, and he started looking at how tight they were on her belly, and she saw him, and she sat again to show him the roll her belly formed. He placed his hands on her panties, and she took them off, and for a moment Arno was paralyzed. It was the first time he saw a woman naked and he didn’t know what to do, he was afraid. Syrtanyelle kissed him, and then she took another chocolate bar she ate, and the erotic tension helped Arno relax again and just stroke her and kiss her. He started kissing her mouth, her cheeks, he chin, her neck, her chest, her breast. He licked them too. He went down to her diaphragm, her belly, her navel. He spent a lot of time caressing, touching the new fat that had formed there. He licked her hips. Her skin tasted of sweet and salt. She was eating her sixth and last chocolate bar, and her belly was so, so rounded and taunt with all what she had eaten. Arno kissed her again and tasted the chocolate in his mouth. Then he lied on her and started stroking her body with his. His chest on her breath, his mouth in her mouth, his legs and thighs on hers, his manhood on her womanhood. He started moving on her, letting go to the instincts of his body, and she started moving too under him. After a moment he asked her if he should enter her.
“Not this time, my dear, not this time, don’t worry about it,” Syrtanyelle said.
And Arno continued moving on her, feeling every curve of her body on his, and she started moaning and breathing very hard, and that encouraged Arno to further continue. With his penis he had intuited where her sensitive part was and he was caressing it, rubbing it. And from his theoretical knowledge about the physical act, he guessed it was the clitoris. He continued moving on her, and her breathing became even faster until she started moaning and Arno for a moment wondered if it was pleasure or pain, joy or sadness, so transformed was her face. He continued moving on her as he was very turned on too, by her body and by the pleasure she was feeling, and soon he had an orgasm too, together with hers. He then lied down in her arms, exhausted and peaceful. One part of him was very proud. He was finally becoming a man. He was confronting his fears. But mostly he felt it wasn’t his work but Syrtanyelle’s. And what was he doing to her, what was he doing to her? He was fattening her as a goose. No that couldn’t be, that couldn’t be, Arno told himself.
And he moved away from Syrtanyelle horrified. And he started crying. “What am I doing to you, what am I doing to you?” he said.
Syrtanyelle came toward him and hugged him with so much maternal tenderness. “Only good things my love. I have never been as happy as I was today.”
“This is not happiness,” Arno exclaimed. “This is not happiness!”
“Of course it is my dear. Trust me.” She kissed him again for a long time until she felt him relaxing again under her.
Some days passed, and Arno felt constantly turned on by Syrtanyelle. They didn’t have sex again together, but he saw her eating, and he saw her body rounding. He constantly had an erection when he was home, and even at university when he thought of her. Each time she saw him she came and caressed his erection and kissed him and let him touch her belly. It was becoming so soft and round.
The next week’s end, Syrtanyelle woke up in Arno’s bed and she brought the scale. Arno looked at her plumping body with fascination. Many of her trousers did not close anymore on her belly except if she constantly sucked in. The ones that closed made her small belly become more promiscuous and her ass filled them entirely. Her breasts were so soft and round. She weighed herself and Arno read 62 kilograms, three more than just one week before. She put on her soft pants and her body was even shapelier, and her empty belly stuck forward. Arno held her very tightly and pressed his erection against her.
“Do you want to feed me today my love?” Syrtanyelle asked softly, “you’ll be able to give me to eat all what you dream of.”
She caressed Arno’s penis, and then pinched her belly to show him her chubby she was becoming. Arno started touching her.
“Come,” Syrtanyelle said. “Let’s go do the groceries together, and buy me all you want me to eat.”
And so they went out, and Arno had an erection all the time that he tried to hide. From time to time Syrtanyelle touched him and kissed him, and told him to relax and not care about what people would said because in Melroel it was normal to show one’s erection. “Why don’t you hide your face then? For me emotions are as intimate as sexuality, even more perhaps.”
They bought so many sweets, sugary and salty things that looked greasy and fattening, a bottle of whole milk and a drink called milkshake that seemed quite thick and nourishing. Each time Arno fantasized and his attraction became even more uncontrollable, and by the end of the trip he started stroking Syrtanyelle belly and kissing her, and she was thrilled of his new-found confidence and she kissed him again and again to reward him, and whispered in his ears she’d eat all what he wanted. That put even more fire into Arno’s body.
They returned home and sat into Arno’s room and Syrtanyelle started to eat. Sometimes Arno fed her, but most of the times she ate on her own and he caressed and massaged her rounding, tense belly. “I won’t stop eating until you will tell me to,” Syrtanyelle whispered. And she ate and ate and ate like never before. And they kissed passionately one another, and Arno held her hips with violence and he stroked and kissed all her body while she ate. She burped and farted several times, and that attracted even further Arno because it made him feel how intimate they were.
“I’m completely full,” Syrtanyelle whispered. “Shall I stop or continue?”
Arno kissed her with ardour and their tongues met and danced and Arno felt Syrtanyelle in him, and it was so strange and so beautiful to have her in him.
And then Syrtanyelle took another doughnut from her own volition, and she ate it. She tried all her pants and none would button if she didn’t suck in her belly. She put on her sweatpants and her belly stuck out and her ass was so shapely, and she seemed an ancient goddess of fertility as there were in some countries. Arno threw himself on her and they hugged and kissed and stripped one another. Syrtanyelle lied down on the bed and Arno came on her, and kissed her and stroked her with his manhood on hers and she started moaning, but he didn’t ejaculate. He asked her if she wanted to eat more, and Syrtanyelle said she’d do everything he wanted. He gave her a Berken doughnut and the milkshake and she ate and drank half lying and Arno kissed her rounding breast and sucked them and he licked all her chest to her belly and he stroked her belly and played with her fat grabbing it and massaging it and he encouraged her to eat more. Midway Syrtanyelle kissed him again and again and they lost themselves into one another mouths. Then she continued eating and when she finished Arno could no longer contain himself and he pressed his penis between her thighs until she opened her legs, and he came into her for the first time. Arno started moving, feeling all her plumping body pressed on his, her round belly on his flat belly, her voluptuous breasts on his chest, her soft warm thighs on his, he grabbed her hips and her ass, and he started kissing her with his tongue. All her body responded to his in a wave, and soon it became a dance. They moved in unison and Arno didn’t know anymore where he was and where Syrtanyelle was. For a very long moment that seemed an infinity, they were entirely lost in one another, in a bubble of warmth and light and love. And then they both had an orgasm at the same time, and then they stopped moving and rested on one another.
And suddenly Syrtanyelle moved and for the first time Arno could read fear on her face. It was so, so strange. She opened her eyes and looked at him as though she saw him for the first time. And Arno looked at her very intensely. He had never looked into her eyes. Not in this way. They were so beautiful, so dark, so deep, so intense. For a very long moment Syrtanyelle looked into his eyes too, without saying anything. Arno felt his heart starting to beat faster. He wanted to lose himself into Syrtanyelle’s eyes even more strongly than he had craved her physically beforehand. He wanted to hug her eyes, he wanted to be with them. He wanted to be one with her. He looked at her face and saw his own face, a mirror. He looked again at her eyes and he saw his own eyes. He felt a warmth rushing from his heart to all his limbs, all his body. Syrtanyelle was so beautiful. Not her body, her. And he had never seen that. Just now, right now, he had seen this splendour for the first time. And he felt a thousand thoughts and feelings stirring within him, and he felt his soul moving and dancing even. Syrtanyelle, who are you, he thought very strongly without saying. Syrtanyelle I want you, I want to be with you. Syrtanyelle, I love you. Oh Syrtanyelle, I love you so much I’d cry for you. I want to hold you and hug you, not like I did before, but like a mother with her child. Oh Syrtanyelle I want to give you all the love I am capable of giving. But the fear was growing again on Syrtanyelle’s face, and she moved swiftly and rose. She took her clothes and run away to the bathroom, without saying a single word. Arno remained alone, feeling completely disoriented. Full of love and sadness too. He then started cleaning his room and putting some order, just to busy himself with something.
When Syrtanyelle came out from the bathroom he wanted to ask her what had happened, what she was feeling, but words weren’t coming out from his mouth. Arno was suddenly very afraid to lose her. He showered too. When he came out, Syrtanyelle was gone.
She came back only late at night when Arno was already asleep. And she didn’t sleep in his bed, nor greeted him. The next morning she saluted him distantly when they saw each other, and soon disappeared into her room. Days went on and Arno could not find one occasion to speak to Syrtanyelle. Since his heart had started beating at another pace he could not stop thinking of her. And he thought of her physically no longer. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to hold her hand and talk with her. He knew almost nothing of her. And yet he had had this impression of having known her forever, of seeing himself into her eyes, her face.
It is actually not true that Arno stopped thinking of Syrtanyelle in a sexual way. When he saw her in her tight pants with her new curves, he felt sometimes attracted in his own queer way. But immediately when he looked at her face, at her eyes, his attraction faded, and a much deeper longing filled his chest. Syrtanyelle the sweet and the whispering was no more with him. She seemed a different person. Her voice had assumed a hard edge. She spoke louder and in brief sentences. And she stopped overeating. The rare times Arno saw her in the kitchen, she was eating vegetables and fruits and a bit of bread. He saw her coming back in her sports clothes a couple of times, and he guessed she was doing some sorts of sports, perhaps jogging, to lose the weight she had gained. Syrtanyelle behaved with Arno as though they had never been lovers, nor even friends. She spoke to him in a straightforward, business-like manner. “Who’s turn is it to clean the bathroom? Yours. Okay.” She tried to avoid looking at him into the eyes, she tried to avoid his company altogether.
And Arno was left wondering what had happened. Since he had started feeling such an intense emotion for her, since he had started wanting to cry for her, she had pushed him away, and metamorphosed. Before she had been the one to always follow him. To be so attracted to him she was ready, eager even, to help him get out from his cocoon. She had not hesitated to put on weight and become rounder, just to attract him. But now she wouldn’t even exchange two sentences with him, and Arno didn’t dare, didn’t want, to force her into a conversation. What he was feeling was too deep to be expressed in words. He felt his heart was very vulnerable, and Syrtanyelle seemed to be in a mood of hurting him recklessly.
A couple of weeks after they had started seeing one another, Arno arrived once home to find another boy chatting with Syrtanyelle in the kitchen. They were laughing together. When Arno looked at her face, he felt something was quite wrong. There was a slight embarrass, and she avoided his gaze for a moment. She wasn’t as beautiful as she usually was. Syrtanyelle presented him briefly to her friend, calling her “my flatmate,” and she turned to him and they resumed their conversation. Arno felt sick in his heart. He spent quite some time in his room, not wanting to come out and cook his meal while Syrtanyelle and her friend were still in the kitchen, but they lingered and lingered. Arno was wondering if Syrtanyelle felt attracted to him. A while after he could no longer hear them talking and he shyly stepped into the kitchen. They had gone. He started cooking. But just at that moment he heard them laughing into Syrtanyelle’s room, and he felt a surge of nausea. He cooked half-heartedly his meal that didn’t have any taste and took his plate into his room, eating without any pleasure. He was feeling a devouring anguish in the stomach, a knot in the throat, a weight in the heart. Afterwards he heard a cry or two that seemed like a moaning of pleasure. He just sat lifeless at his desk, unable to do anything, and he didn’t sleep of the night, lying in his bed tormented with the darkest thoughts.
After a month, Syrtanyelle had lost all the weight she had gained and she was back to her naturally slender body. It suited her better and Arno was glad for her. Or at least he knew he’d be glad if he didn’t have this shadow weighing down on his heart. He had known from the start that gaining weight was wrong. And now that he truly loved Syrtanyelle he wanted her to be her true self, in the way she’d be most comfortable with. But Syrtanyelle was continuing to avoid him, and he often saw her in company of boys, chatting, laughing, as though she didn’t care the least bit for him. And Arno hid in his room behind the walls of his feelings. He tried to reason what he felt. He barely knew Syrtanyelle. She seemed an easy girl, almost a slut. It wasn’t logical to love her. She didn’t love him back. She just jumped on every boy she met. He should try to forget her. But right at these moments Arno remembered her face, her eyes. The depth, the sadness, the love he had read there. Yes in that moment, he had felt she loved him truly too. He had felt loved like never in his life before. And Arno’s heart swelled with love and all his insults and recriminations were forgotten. He felt he couldn’t not love Syrtanyelle. It was too natural, too easy, too beautiful and too painful to love her.
Weeks passed and Arno cared less and less about university. He found his studies boring and pallid. Day and night he thought of Syrtanyelle, and he alternated short moments of elation when he remembered her so strongly it felt real, and he felt they were almost together in the heart, and many moments of despair when he fell in a black mood. He felt convinced at those moments he would never be loved. That Syrtanyelle would never love him as he loved her. And he each time felt the urge to throw up and he could not find sleep at night. It was painful, so painful. To see her like a ghost around him every day, just going about her usual occupations, uncaring of him. Seeing her friends, laughing with them, having sex with them. Going out at parties. He had seen her dressing up several times to go out, and coming back only late in the night. He heard her coming in only because he couldn’t sleep, and once he was in the kitchen and her gaze seemed so far-away he wondered if she was not tipsy.
At those moments, sometimes the old instinct returned and Arno felt the craving to have a slim girl gaining weight with him. His mind starting imagining a curvy girl close to him, her belly and her breast pushing into him. Her thighs against his. And each time he pictured Syrtanyelle. Not the Syrtanyelle he loved. The sugar sweet Syrtanyelle he had met at first that whispered in his ear exciting words and wanted to do everything, absolutely everything, to turn him on. Arno indulged sometimes in these thoughts, but as soon as he realized what he was doing he pushed them away with anger and shame. It was wrong, so wrong, to imagine Syrtanyelle in this way. The sweet Syrtanyelle, nor the hard Syrtanyelle, were true. The true Syrtanyelle was fair and serious and loving and deep. She didn’t whisper nor snap. She didn’t tempt him into his attraction, nor other boys. But another part of his mind screamed, how could he know who was the true Syrtanyelle. How could he pretend to know her better than she did herself. In two months she had not once tried to talk to him. And what if he tried waiting for her to speak to him, and he tried to speak to her instead. What if he proposed her to go have a walk. But he felt so ashamed, so scared, so unconfident. He felt like a little boy when he thought of proposing Syrtanyelle to go out, because necessarily he wouldn’t be able to leave reproof and sadness and anger out of his voice. He would put himself in a position of weakness, because he loved her and would be hurt so badly if she just said no. It would another slap in his face, another blow.
One day Arno had an idea. He would write her a short letter and put it in her post box and give her a mysterious appointment somewhere without signing his name. He thought over and over of the text to write. He needed to write it in Vilnent and not in Falnë, so that she wouldn’t recognize him. Syrtanyelle studied languages at university. Her native language was Melro, Melroel’s tongue and she spoke fluent Falnë and Vilnent, as well as several other tongues which she had not named to Arno. Funnily she had chosen to learn Falnë at her school back in Melroel, which is an unusual choice nowadays as Falnë is a tiny forgotten nation about which no one cares anymore, except the Moustadiris to steal its water resources.
Arno ended up scribbling a short missive in his uncertain Vilnenian and trembling he put it into her post box, making sure no one saw him.
Will her majesty, ambassador of Melro, care to join one of her most ardent sympathizer and ambassador of another nation for a short walk along the river, tomorrow as the clock strikes ten, where the river splits in two branches?
That night Arno strangely slept better than most of other nights and the next morning he went out early and strolled along the river and sat on a root in the wood and breathed quietly, in and out, in and out, to lessen his tension. He was now so nervous. Would Syrtanyelle come? His heart fell at the idea she wouldn’t come. But if she came, what would he tell her?
Arno was at their meeting point ten minutes in advance. He heard bells striking ten times in the distance, but she didn’t come. He sat on a wooden bench there, his face between his hands. He waited for a moment. But she still didn’t show up. She will not come, he told himself, and he felt again the urge to throw up. He waited for still longer, and longer, and she didn’t come.
He returned home with a dark face. He could feel all the light, all the hope abandoning him. He came into the kitchen and was about to open his door when Syrtanyelle suddenly popped out her room.
“Did you put the little message in my post box?”
Arno nodded, unable to hide his sadness.
“Oh I’m sorry, I just saw it now. But yea, why not, we could go out for a walk this afternoon. Does it work for you at three?”
“I will see you then. I suggest we meet in our living room, instead of some mysterious point along a river I haven’t made a study of yet.”
Arno nodded again. He felt so much sadness he was in no mood of talking. He came in his room trembling and sweating. He tried to eat something that wouldn’t make him want to throw up at lunch. And at three o’clock, he was in the living room. He waited for a moment before Syrtanyelle showed up.
“Let’s go then,” she said.
And for the first moment they walked in silence, and Arno felt too many emotions in him to say anything. But silence seemed to be just fine for Syrtanyelle. When they arrived to the river, they started walking in the opposite direction from the town, where it was the wildest. In some places there was a gravel pass among grass, in other places they crossed woods, and they also went up and down mounds.
“It’s a fair afternoon, isn’t it, for a day of winter,” Syrtanyelle said.
She looked into Arno’s eyes and suddenly he felt absorbed into her eyes, and the mundane words she had said took another dimension, another depth. She looked at him with an air of saying, I like being with you and you brighten my day and my path. And Arno’s spirits cheered up. And he metamorphosed in his bearing. When his face and his thoughts had been dark, they suddenly started glowing, and his heart beating again after a long winter. How could Syrtanyelle have so much power on him? How could she with so simple words convey so much love and warmth?
They walked on in silence in a forest along the river. All the colours around were brighter. And suddenly Arno stopped walking in a place where they could see the river too. Syrtanyelle stopped walking as well, and this brought even more warmth to Arno’s heart. He looked at her eyes thankfully, with compassion and tenderness and love. She looked back into his eyes. Arno started smiling slightly. And Syrtanyelle started smiling too. And Arno’s smile became brighter and beamed. And Syrtanyelle smile became a beam too and her face wore a new splendour. And suddenly they both started laughing. A laugh full of mirth and joy, still looking into one another eyes. Syrtanyelle was so beautiful and true now. Her soul radiated on her face.
Arno felt like he wanted to take her hand and hug her and be with her and continue to smile to her. Just when he felt afraid to lose or shatter this moment of perfectness, Syrtanyelle became serious again and she said on a neutral voice.
“Shall we walk back home, it’s getting late already.”
And she started walking without waiting for Arno to reply. Arno followed her and they walked together in silence. But this time Arno felt quite sad. The perfect moment of happiness had been shattered and it was very hard to be back into his harsh reality. Why did Syrtanyelle behave so erratically? Why did she seem to love him for a moment, and the next moment she didn’t care about him?
When they arrived home, Syrtanyelle disappeared into her room.
Another week passed. Arno was thinking about proposing again to Syrtanyelle to see one another, and wondering through which means he’d make his proposition. But one night she saw a boy again and that completely discouraged and disgusted Arno. It was so unfair, so unnerving. He wanted to cry over his fate but he couldn’t. His heart felt like a desert and there were no tears, no raindrops to water the land in want of rain. And it threw back Arno into his dark mood. He could not stop loving Syrtanyelle. But he could not imagine her loving him, and that filled him with the deepest despair. He started feeling again the physical craving, and he imagined Syrtanyelle with the weight she had gained. Not the real Syrtanyelle, but the one who slept into his bed and licked his body and kissed his mouth and put her tongue into him. The Syrtanyelle who could eat nine Berken doughnuts for him, not for the true Arno, but for the Arno who’s attracted by stupid things and loses all his intelligence and sensitivity when he lets that craving fill him. Arno tried to push away these thoughts, but from day to day they grew stronger. He would lie down in his bed and his penis would harden thinking of the curves of Syrtanyelle, her chubby belly, her hips, her ass, her breasts. She had weighed 62 kilograms the last time they had been together in that way, and he imagined her continuing to overeat for one week or two and weighing 65 kilograms afterward, not fitting into her tight pants, and pressing her chubby, soft body against his. And warmth invaded all his body and without knowing what he was doing Arno started stroking his penis, faster and faster, faster and faster, and at a moment he started moaning so intense was his pleasure and he ejaculated all over himself but he didn’t care and he was feeling ecstatic. And strangely, during the orgasm he had seen the gaze of Syrtanyelle. Not the chubby false one, but the true her, the one he loved, and he had felt a wave of love and warmth going from his heart to all his body. It was the first time ever Arno masturbated. He had known that sensation in some erotic dreams in the past, and with the chubby Syrtanyelle. But it was the first time he could reach that pleasure on his own, in a state of awakedness. He usually felt guilty when he imaged Syrtanyelle gaining weight, but that time after his first orgasm, he just felt good and relaxed and almost joyful. He felt her closer to him in his heart.
Another week passed, and Arno masturbated again, and it helped him to accept the pain and the sadness. He slept better at night, and he was less sad during the day. One day, as he encountered Syrtanyelle in the kitchen, he tried to propose her casually to have another walk, and to his surprise Syrtanyelle seemed enthusiastic about it and she said she’d have some time during the week’s end. They met in the afternoon went to walk in another direction this time, crossing the river on a bridge and walking across a narrow path between agricultural fields. There were some ponds surrounded by purple reeds at a certain distance. They’d probably be frozen, but they were beautiful nonetheless.
Again, they walked in silence, as though of a common agreement, but Syrtanyelle enthusiasm had waned and this time Arno did not feel the closeness he had felt with her when they had walked along the river. He was happy to be walking close to her, but there was a shadow, a fear, weighing on his happiness. He needed a small confirmation that indeed she loved him, and that would cheer him up, but he got none. She didn’t look into his eyes much and when she did her gaze was unfocused, distant, absent. They saw the ponds but Syrtanyelle didn’t want to linger there, and they returned home in silence. Arno’s expectations about their meeting had been quite high this time, and he was sharply disappointed.
“Why are we playing this game?” Arno suddenly said.
“Which game?” Syrtanyelle said quietly, and Arno could almost feel her weariness in her voice.
Arno shrugged and didn’t try to talk to her again. He was not in the right mood. At a moment their eyes met and he could distinguish a glimmer of regret and melancholy in Syrtanyelle’s gaze. Arno wanted to ask her so many questions. He wanted to know everything about her past and her dreams, but he couldn’t get started. He had felt her on a soul level, and something held him back from asking mundane questions. There was a very weird dynamic between them. He couldn’t break it, and perhaps he didn’t even want to.
They returned home and separated. On some days Arno’s hopes were high and he fantasized about their next walk together, but on other days he felt a thick despair and the only way to struggle against it was by imagining the false Syrtanyelle gaining weight and masturbating before these mental images.
He tried to ask her again if she wanted to take a walk with him (he didn’t dare asking her if she wanted to spend a moment with him, which sounded too blunt for him), and Syrtanyelle replied she didn’t have time as she had a lot of work for her classes, and she didn’t propose him another time and didn’t offer any word of encouragement. Sometimes she was so blunt, so dispassionate. Didn’t she notice how much he was suffering?
That further discouraged Arno and he started masturbating several times per day thinking of her putting on weight, and each time he did it he felt less pleasure, and he nowadays didn’t experience anymore the feeling of closeness with the true Syrtanyelle during his orgasm. It was just some warm liquid that went out his body, and some short-lived ecstasy that soon died and left him even emptier than he had been.
For several weeks, he didn’t propose another meeting with Syrtanyelle, and he slowly foundered in a negative routine of going to his classes, and returning home to masturbate all afternoon and evening long. He tried to stretch his imagination to each time invent a new weight gain scenario, a new scene, but after a while they started to become repetitive and it excited him less. But he, his body, needed so desperately to be attracted. He wondered what he could do to fix that, apart from masturbating less often. In such a dark mood Arno didn’t care anymore about true and false, and about love and unlove. He was just desperate, desperately gloomy. The only thing he knew is that he still loved Syrtanyelle, but that love brought him almost only pain. It was only the memory of its splendour and perfectness that kept it alive. It had roots too deep in his heart for Arno to unearth it. What could he do to find oblivion for a moment, to relax his body, he wondered as he masturbated for the umpteenth time with almost no pleasure, feeling his penis hurt because of how much he had stroked it, and sensing a distant shame about his uselessness and how empty had become his existence. He had always struggled against his attraction, but he had never fallen so deeply into it. He thought about knocking on Syrtanyelle’s door with his erection and asking her to come to him. Would he dare doing that? Or was it better to find another girl to be with? No, that he saw himself doing even less. He had bought himself a computer as he received some money each month thanks to his scholarship. He tried a search on the interweb in Vilnent, as it was one of the languages with the most content (there was almost nothing in Falnë), “girl gaining weight”. And to his surprise he found content. Girls who complained about having put on weight and asked how to diet efficiently. But also girls who wanted to put on weight because it turned them on, and some even posted pictures and videos of them. And Arno started looking at each and every picture and video he found, and he read each and every story that existed, and each time he masturbated meanwhile. When he ejaculated he felt a stronger and stronger shame. But a moment later the shame was forgotten and the only thought of Arno was to quench the pain of his sadness. He did it over and over and over each day until his eyes hurt because of having looked at a luminous screen for so long. His manhood hurt too, but he had gotten used to that, and it felt a right punishment to his depravity in a way.
For several weeks he led this life, barely going out from his room to eat something cooked half-heartedly. Sometimes he forced himself to go running or walking, but there he soon felt so empty and sad that he came back to his room. In a way, a malicious part of him was happy of the life he was leading, because he was no longer craving for Syrtanyelle, he was no longer waiting for her love. She didn’t want them, then well, she wouldn’t have him either. He rarely saw her nowadays, and when he did he barely saluted her and responded very coldly to her questions. His heart ached and yet one part of him was satisfied. She didn’t seem to see boys anymore, but who cared, who cared? Arno continued to explore one interweb site after another, and he felt many an erotic story speaking of weight gain, and he discovered that his condition was called a fetish. A strong attraction to a body part that is not supposed to be sexual. A fetish. That was his ailment, and his liberation. It kept the pain far away from him as long as he stroked his penis and looked for the pleasure of his senses and his body. Sometimes a part of Arno looked at him horrified from afar, as though he had become dependent on alcohol or drugs. But the interweb content that seemed endless at first wasn’t for such a determinate masturbator as Arno was, and soon enough, too soon, he found no more video to watch, no more story to read, except the many ones where the woman was too fat for him to be attracted (many gained not ten or twenty kilograms, but hundreds of kilograms), or when it was the man who gained. This could not turn on Arno, and he was desperate not to find new content. Oh, from time to time, a novel slim girl posted about her gain and her starter belly, but that was too episodic to satisfy Arno’s hunger. He tried over and over and over to find new content on the interweb, trying new researches, trying other languages he didn’t speak. But he had arrived at the limit of interweb’s resources, and the available content he had already visualized or read attracted him much less. And Arno started feeling such an unquenched fever in his body, such a desire he could not satisfy.
Until the day when he couldn’t sleep because of his desire and had the idea of going to knock of Syrtanyelle’s door. It wasn’t the true Arno that walked to her door, and that’s why he felt quite at ease with it. And he wasn’t seeking the true Syrtanyelle, but just the sweet sexual creature he remembered. She opened to him, and she didn’t reproof him or send him away of slap him or laugh at him as he’d expected. She opened to him, and looked at him, and looked at his underpants and his erection that showed underneath. She took him by the hand and pushed him on her bed. Arno let himself go. She stripped her clothes and she intimated to Arno to remove his underpants with a gesture of impatience. Arno did and she jumped over him, and she kissed him with violence that felt like anger. And she took him into her and rode him with fury. Arno felt himself as within a storm, a very strong wind that blew all over him. He was not looking for pleasure anymore, but just wary of this storm that had exploded over his head. She held him with violence almost hurting him and after a while she started moaning with pleasure, and she continued for a while to stroke her body of Arno’s and then stopped. Arno did not have an orgasm, and he couldn’t even think about it. Syrtanyelle anger and violence had shaken him in a strange way, and he felt something crack within him, and he started crying. At first his tears were silent but then it became a sob and he cried and cried and tears streamed on his face. He felt all his body shaking with his sadness, and he felt his hands and his arms running bloodless. Syrtanyelle looked at him almost curiously, interrogatively. And Arno cried more, he felt like a helpless, small child. He felt so deeply unloved. All his hopelessness was storming out in tears. He cried for himself, for his crushed love, for his shattered hopes. The moment spent with Syrtanyelle had been so far away from the tender true love he so deeply desired. And it wasn’t her fault entirely, as he had come to her with the idea of her chubby self and of fulfilling his craving uncaring about the rightness or wrongness of his action. He cried and cried because he felt Syrtanyelle did not love him. She didn’t say anything or do anything to stop him from shedding tears, and after a while Arno run away from her room almost in shame of having shown so much weakness, so many emotions, in front of her judging eyes. Even if she wasn’t actively judging, Arno’s dark side wanted to infer that yes, she was judging, and yes, she didn’t care. He run to his room and shut his door closed, and laid over his bed to cry there. One part of him still hoped and wished Syrtanyelle would come to his room and take his chin up and look at him into the eyes and show him her love. But she did none of that, and after a while, Arno had shed away so much sadness he felt entirely washed out and empty, and he fell asleep.
After that episode, Arno stopped masturbating again, and he blocked with rage any thought of fattening any girl, whether on the interweb, or the memories with Syrtanyelle. He tried to regain control over his own life. To read, to write, to draw, to go out in nature. And he succeeded into it to a certain extent. He knew he loved Syrtanyelle, but it was so, so hopeless he had stopped caring and waiting anything from her. The way she had taken him like a piece of living meat uncaring about his feelings was proof enough she didn’t love him and couldn’t love him. And yet, Arno realized he had behaved just the same. When he was under the influence of his weight gain cravings, he stopped caring about the other person, the other soul, in front of him. And that’s why he had decided to stop doing it altogether. Living his fetish was making him miserable. Masturbating was bad.
And while Arno focused on his own life, on his own self, Syrtanyelle started seeing some boys anew. It didn’t anger him anymore. He didn’t look at her, didn’t look at the boys. He just walked straight into his room. And he didn’t care, he didn’t give a damn. He tried to do what he liked, and on some days he succeeded, while on other days he felt too much melancholy to do anything. He forced himself to move, to run. But on these days he was feeling so sluggish that it was all useless.
One of these days, he heard Syrtanyelle laughing and then moaning with a boy in her room, and suddenly all the anger he had held back exploded in his chest. He rushed toward her door and knocked, banged on the door. After a moment, the boy and not Syrtanyelle opened to him in underpants.
“What the fuck man, what do you want?” he said.
Arno was preparing himself to vomit all his anger on Syrtanyelle’s face, and he wasn’t expecting to see her night’s lover at the door.
“You do too much noise, I cannot sleep,” he said, trying to keep the anger out from his voice, but failing, and feeling that his face was becoming livid.
“Noise? Syrta, your flatmate is retarded.”
“Let him be and come,” said Syrtanyelle wearily.
The boy shut the door on Arno’s face and returned to “Syrta’s” arms.
Arno felt shame but also so much anger he thought of knocking again on the door. But it was useless, he thought, and he put on his coat and went out to walk. At least anger had awakened him from his lethargic state. He walked and walked in the coldness of the night, looking at the half-moon that sometimes shone and was hidden by clouds at other times. But the more he walked, and the more he became restless and his steps brought him back home. And when he arrived he didn’t hesitate and banged again at Syrtanyelle’s door.
“What do you fucking want,” her lover shouted.
But Arno pushed him away this time, despite being the shorter of the two, and he walked toward Syrtanyelle that was sitting in the bed. She looked into his eyes and he looked at her, trying to convey her all the anger he felt. Why, why, was she behaving suchlike. Why was she suppressing her love for him. Because yes, right then, Arno felt sure she loved him. But she was trying to repress her feelings. Suddenly he understood it all clearly. She was afraid of the depth of her emotions, and so she tried to act as though she didn’t care. She lied to herself. And she just drowned her feelings with other mundane and stupid and useless activities.
Arno felt a fire burning in his chest and in his eyes, and all his love and all his anger were expressed into them, and Syrtanyelle’s eyes were defying him. She was beautiful and proud and haughty, and seemed to dare him to act, to speak out.
But her night’s lover couldn’t stand that, and he tried to drag Arno by the arm. But Arno gave him a blow that ended up on his loins, and the boy cried in pain. He came closer to Syrtanyelle, and suddenly he spoke, shouted.
“Stop what you are doing. Stop it now. Stop repressing your emotions. Stop repressing your love. Stop repressing your sadness. Stop it now!”
Syrtanyelle continued to look at him in the eyes. For a moment, Arno felt as though she was going to cry. As though the mask she wore on her face was cracking. As though she was going to speak. But then her face hardened again and at that moment her lover pushed Arno with all his strength and shouted at him to fuck off. He literally threw him out the room and shut the door closed and locked. Syrtanyelle did not do anything to stop him. Arno banged again on the door, but the boy shouted at him to fuck off or they’d call the police. And Syrtanyelle did not say anything.
Arno felt a mixture of anger and despair. He could not sleep. Walking outdoor could not help him. He decided to wait in his room hoping that Syrtanyelle would send the boy away, but she didn’t.
In the middle of the night he still couldn’t sleep and he resolved himself to go knock again on the door. At least they wouldn’t sleep either. He banged on the door, and the boy bellowed in fury. I’m calling the police he shouted, and soon Arno heard him speaking to a policeman, saying there was a hysterical man that was annoying them and threatening them in the middle of the night. Then he hanged off and shouted that in fifteen minutes the police would be here.
Arno banged again at the door and shouted. “Syrtanyelle, open the door!!! Send this asshole away!!!”
But Syrtanyelle did not open the door nor send her lover away, nor did she speak loud enough for Arno to hear her.
“Fuck off,” the boy said again, “fuck off or you’ll be arrested by the police. And since you’re a moron of a Falnë they won’t have any regard for your word against mine. So don’t hope to invent a fucking story. Syrta, how did you end up with such a flatmate?”
“I didn’t get to choose him,” Syrtanyelle said out loud, “but believe me I’m moving away. Can I stay at your place Sam for a couple weeks till when I find something else?”
“Yea of course, as much as you like, I already told you I had enough space if you wanted to come over.”
And they continued chatting more quietly. Arno banged at her door one last time, and he shouted. “Go fuck yourself Syrtanyelle. Go fuck yourself you slut.”
“Fuck off Arno,” she shouted back at him. “Who do you think you are? By what right do you trouble me suchlike and interfere in my life? Fuck off! I don’t ever want to hear of you again.”
Her words seemed to cut Arno’s legs under him. His anger faded away, and suddenly he remembered the Moustadiri army and he felt terrified of the police that was coming. He couldn’t think clearly anymore. He needed to escape. He ran to his room in fright and started packing a bag with warm clothes, food he could eat raw, bread and cheese and dried fruits, an umbrella. He put on his coat, took all his money and his passport and student’s card, locked his door and he fled in the night, his legs shaking at the idea of meeting the police. Would they tell his name and make his descriptions to the police? Would it be safe for him to return home on the next day?
Arno walked in the night for a long time, afraid, angry, desperate and cold until he took refuge between the walls of his university. The buildings were all locked, but he found a spot that was at least sheltered from the wind and he sat there and ate a piece of bread and cheese and an apple. It had been very long he hadn’t eaten and he felt entirely drained. He tried to nap there, but he was cold and the floor was damp, and he was still afraid of the police. What if they found him here? At the end he left his university after coming upon two security agents asking him what was his business in the night, and he replied he couldn’t find sleep. He walked toward the river, and followed its trail under the trees, and walked and walked despite his exhaustion till dawn to fight the cold.
When the first colours shone again in the sky, it rekindled a sliver of hope in his heart. At least he was still alive, his life had not ended. Arno felt a strong longing to return to Falnë and a growing hate for everything about the Vilnen nation. But Falnë was no more what it used to be. It was being further destroyed every day and it wasn’t anymore a safe heaven. Arno focused on himself remembering all the wisdom of the songs he used to sing and hadn’t sung for so long. Yes, he needed to sing and write again. He needed to be in closeness with nature again.
Despite all what had happened he knew he still loved Syrtanyelle in one part of his heart. But the pain was too great for him to want to see her again. When he returned home the next night, he stepped cautiously hoping not to meet her, nor the police, and in fact there was no one and all her belongings had been taken away. Arno breathed deeply. A deep breath of relief. And another breath of sadness. She had abandoned him for a stupid boy who did not even love her. How could she? But suddenly Arno regretted he had never told her he loved her. And yet, were words necessary before the depth of the love he had felt for her, and this deep bond that existed between their souls? Why was Syrtanyelle so afraid of it? Why did she reject him with so much harshness as though she hated him? Why?
Arno showered for a long time and he ate something warm for the first time in two days, and he set himself to sleep with the thought that the next day he’d take a decision on whether to continue his studies in Vilnen or flee home.