Aoba uttered a tired sigh and delicately placed her fork on the plate in front of her. Slouched in her chair she leaned back a little, trying to alter her posture and relieve some of the pressure built up in her bloated gut.
The plate directly in front of her was just one of a legion that lay stripped and bare on the kitchen table, and Aoba had been their unwilling executioner. Her victims, prepared by her loving and doting mother for her breakfast, lay splayed out or stacked in front of her with nothing more than mere crumbs remaining.
Aoba brought her right hand up and placed it gingerly on her distended middle. It was so big now that it pressed against the table and her belly button was nearly as far away as her knees, short of only a few inches at most. It was a constant reminder of just how big she was getting, how much fatter and heavier she continued to get. Thinking about it made her not want to get up.
“Aoba.” Her mother’s parental tone pulled the engorged gi