THIN ME - dave erlewine


dave erlewine

At the airport, Jen glances at my face. During her Europe trip, I’ve gained weight from worry. Over dinner, she stares.

“You look like Uncle Mark.” She stabs a scallop and swallows. “He’d be Jabba and I’d be Leia. Messed up my buns with his dick. Cracked himself up.”

Something is happening between us, it’s weird. “Thin me,” I say.


I’m placed on a cottage cheese diet. Caught eating cookies, a ball gag is inserted. “You Vichy fuck,” she says, grinding my face.

In bed, I inquire about the Vichy reference. She talks about the man whose Vichy grandfather collaborated with Nazis. She fucked his ass and yelled Arbeit macht frei.

She shrugs at my expression. “Guys like that paid for college.”


Within a month, I’m down to 175. We agree things are good, no need to change up

She says yes. Before I get off my knee, she pushes me to the floor, fucks me around the room.

I slink away from her snores, dig around the pantry. I move balled Nutty Bars around my mouth, spitting most into the trash.

Dave Erlewine
tunneling to the center of the earth
kevin wilson