Eva blushed and then giggled “No Nina, they came UPS yesterday from Mr. Tucker.”
She sighed and shook her head. “He's such a nice, generous man, I just wish I could see more of him . . Well, no matter.”
She seemed lost in thought for a moment, and then returning to the here and now she smiled broadly and told us that she had some wonderful news. It seemed Mr. Tucker had let go his long time housemaid, the scary Mrs. Steiner and replaced her with a plump, middle aged Spaniard named Consuella, who, aside from speaking Evas' native tongue, also reminded her of home by cooking all the rich, delicious dishes from her homeland.
Consuella was at Evas' beck and call, and was willing and able to whip up any scrumptious snack or meal Eva desired, whenever she desired. It seemed that the restriction on what could and could not be fed had ended with Mrs. Steiners' tenure, for now her meals were fit for a queen; hefty meat courses with fattening cream gravies and rich deserts replacing the birdlike portions that had been Mrs. Steiners' benchmark.
On subsequent visits we camped out in the sunroom eating small cakes or delicious warm tortillas dripping with melted butter. Eva would also invariably share with us the latest goodies sent by Mr. Tucker; huge boxes of truffles and chocolates, bars of white chocolates goodies sent by Mr. Tucker; huge boxes of truffles and chocolates, bars of white chocolate with almonds, candied cashews, or almond rocca. It seemed like he was sending her something almost every day he was away.
In a matter of weeks Evas' gowns and dresses that she always modeled for us began to tighten. The exquisite lines of her face began to soften and blur, while her high cheekbones were becoming camouflaged by flesh. She seemed oblivious, circling in the mirrors laughing and gobbling piece after piece of sweets as she danced across the huge dressing room without a care in the world.
We saw Lancelot once in the early fall. He had been away awhile on business himself and we were all glad to see that he had returned. I remember that afternoon as if it were yesterday: Eva was wearing a black tee shirt and stretch tights and the look I got from Amy silently said it all – 'can you believe the tummy Evas' gotten?' Yes I could 'cause it was there in plain sight for all to see. The stretch waistband of the tights cut into her now pillowy middle causing her tummy to pooch out below the waistband while forming a nice round roll above it. Lancelot didn't seem to mind though, as he held her close and whispered sweet things into her ear.
On our next visit Eva ushered us into the dressing room to show us two new gowns that Mr. Tucker had sent to her. She modeled them for us, spinning in slow circles before the wall of mirrors, oblivious to the fact that she barely fit into them, flesh tumbling over the top of the strapless gown. She kept hiking up the top of the gown as her large, flabby breasts fought for escape, oblivious to it all. She even showed us the newest box of candies Mr. Tucker had sent her; a huge thing that must have held a good ten pounds worth of chocolates. Eva offered us the box giggling that she had had a good head start on us, and winking, told us that she hoped that there was some left.
She'd made a good account of it all right! There were more empty wrappers than chocolates left in the cavernous box. Still, as we sat on the divan helping her eat, we both realized that she was happier than we had ever seen her. We were happy for her too, but tempered that joy with the realization that, although she was still pretty, the extra twenty to twenty five pounds she had put on were making her beauty fade. Her thickening torso and widening backside seemed to be taking away the perfection of her angular frame. Her arms and shoulders were getting round and fleshy and her once proud breasts had gotten much larger, but seemed heavy and saggy. Amy and I looked at each other and shrugged, not knowing quite what to do.
Mr. Tucker returned later that week and soon the two of them were off to Paris for two whole months. Eva wrote to us telling us how happy she was, and how attentive Mr. Tucker was being to her. She said it felt like a second honeymoon. Mr. Tucker was being so nice to her, taking her shopping and then out to dine at the fabulous restaurants that the French were famous for. She wished us well, and said that she couldn't wait to get back and show us all the great clothes Mr. Tucker had bought for her. We couldn't wait either.
When we heard that the Tuckers had returned from Europe we raced over to see Eva. Mr. Tucker was at home, but working in his study, so Eva took us upstairs to model. Yes, she had returned with a whole new wardrobe, but we just about choked as it had to be at least three sizes larger! It seemed as if someone had attached a bicycle pump to her stomach and blown her up several inches. Her tummy, no it was too big to be called a tummy: Her belly protruded out from her frame, all jiggly and rolly-polly. Her upper arms large and flabby and her breasts had gotten huge, hanging pendulously down over her distended belly. She was round and dowdy, and her beautiful face was being overrun by excess poundage. We couldn't believe our eyes; our beautiful princess had been kidnapped!
Lancelot came by to see Eva shortly after her return from Paris, and then never returned. Eva didn't seem to care for Mr. Tucker was treating her well, being home much more often and taking her along with him on several business trips. It seemed that each time Eva returned from such a trip it was with several pounds of new baggage to carry. After a little more than a year it was beginning to be hard to remember Eva as she was, and not just think of her as the fat, jiggly, happy Latina mother figure she had become. We were so disappointed at first, but soon accepted the status quo and remained her friend.
As we grew older we saw less and less of Eva as Amy and I discovered boys and Eva was away with Mr. Tucker so often. Still, when we did see her our routine was often the same as it had always been; Eva herding us up to her dressing room to feed us chocolates and primp and preen in her fancy clothes in front of the none too flattering mirrors. Eva had grown obese. Jowly and double chinned, massive arms, large flabby breasts and a huge belly. We watched in horror as she changed out of her dressing gown to show us a beaded designer thing that Mr. Tucker had bought her that looked more like a tent than a dress. She let her dressing gown fall to the floor and we watched her reach for the dress, wearing only a massive underwire bra and panties. Her swollen, protruding belly lapping over the panties and her fat, wide butt spilling out from under the panty bottoms. She had developed a kind of shelf around her middle, like an apron where the lard jutted out from just below her belly button. She bent down to pick up her dressing gown and her belly folded like an accordion of rolls and bulges. Her thighs had grown together and seemed to have grown down to her knees. She plopped another chocolate into her maw and began struggling with the sequined dress, squeezing it up over her wide hips and saggy belly, and then wrestling it over her breasts and into place around her wattled neck.
“Ninas, can you help me? I need you to zip up the back.”
She came forward, turning her wide, fat butt towards us. Amy got up and started the zipper up its' trek, watching her fat fold as the dress was drawn together. The zipper almost didn't make it past her bulging belly, and once past the expanse we both held our breath that it didn't burst and rip right there.
After the zipper finally completed its' trek, Eva jostled her breasts around a bit, getting the two huge lumps of lard into some semblance of alignment and then, patting her belly, twirled before us.
“What do you think, Ninas? Devine isn't it?”
Amy and I told her the dress was beautiful and thought to ourselves 'yeah, not bad for a tent'. As Eva swirled before the mirrors, smoothing the dress around her hippo hips, Amy whispered to me “ the label says 2X. What does that mean? Is it some kind of designer code or what?”
“I don't know” I confessed. “Maybe it means too big or something. How much do you think Eva weighs now? 200? 225?”
“As if!” Amy hissed. “You saw; her belly must be at least fifty inches around, and her butt is huge! I bet she must be way over 250. Maybe even three hundred. What has it been now; like less than three years since Mrs. Steiner went away?”
“Yeah, and now Eva is more than twice the size. She even makes Consuella look tiny, and remember how we though that she used to be fat.”
“Ninas, what are you whispering about? Boys again? Let me tell you a secret. Find someone like Mr. Tucker, even if it seems hard at first. I've never been so happy these last few years. And to think I used to be so lonely. But now he showers me with his attentions. I don't ever have to want for anything.”
She reached for another chocolate and then closed her eyes in rapture, as she tasted the velvety sugar. We had to admit that, above all else Eva did certainly seem happy and I thank Mr. Tucker for making her so. Still, I have ambivalent feelings towards him. Sure, Eva was happy now, and sure, Mr. Tucker didn't forced all that food down her gullet, but by denying her for so long and then giving her everything; I wonder what kind of options Eva really had. I imagine she could have stopped herself at some point, but if you think about it, why should she. The man of her dreams was showering her with affection, and all that was forbidden was suddenly accessible. I wonder what I would have done. Being removed from all judging eyes and allowed to have anything I wanted whenever I wanted, with the assurance that my man was there for me, loving me and providing for me.
I find myself somewhat drawn and simultaneously repelled by the extent of Mr. Tuckers' possessiveness. To destroy his greatest treasure so that no one else might steal her is kin to painting over the Mona Lisa with black lead. Perhaps by burying Eva under pounds of fat was the only way he thought he could keep her all for himself. Maybe he has a strong memory, and, like her, sees only the princess when her looks at her, and not the obese dowager queen.