"Careful there, Deb, or you're going to be the fattest girl in the world."*1
"Yeah, right, Daddy." I grinned at my father, then scooped a huge spoonful of apple pie and ice
cream into my mouth. Dad laughed; he was only teasing. His latest Barbi glared her disapproval
from across the table; that was okay, I didn't approve of her, either. I don't even remember her
name, but it didn't matter; they were all alike, tall and slender and buxom and hard and fake, so I
just call them all Barbi. Some of them never even notice. The cook smiled as she cleared the
table; she knew who appreciated her food! She had a job for life, as long as she kept cooking
Okay, I'll admit it. I'm a big girl; I hit 300 lbs. before I started my Junior year in high school; that
was just a couple of months ago. It shows, too; I've got this big pillow of a belly that fills half my
lap, and my breasts... well, they're big and soft, and they sort of lie on top of my belly when I'm
sitting down. Big hips, of course, that goes with being a girl. Well, maybe not this big; they
reach past both sides of my chair. So what? I think it's kind of kewl!
I know lots of girls don't feel that way. I'm always hearing the Barbi's whine about their weight,
and the girls at school are almost as bad. I mean, it's so funny to hear someone half my weight
complain how fat she is. Really? What does that make me? Don't answer that! At least I don't sit
around and moan 'poor me, I'm so fat, no boy will ever ask me out!' To hear them speak, they sit
home alone every Friday because they are soooo fat... like all the skinny girls go out every night
with a different boy! I think not!
And they talk like the only point of living is to have a guy ask you out! Am I really going to let
my happiness depend on what some guy decides to do? Get real! Not that I have anything against
guys, of course. Far from it. It's not hard to attract a boy, if you are willing to put up with a jerk...
which I am NOT. No, it's finding a quality male that's difficult. My friend Angela could be a
swimsuit model, her waist is like the size of my thigh, and not my upper thigh, either; even she
ends up sitting home some nights. Okay, yeah, she gets asked out more than I do, but I'm not
complaining. At least not as much as a lot of girls, anyway.
Sometimes it makes me mad, though. When I hear girls whine about their little tummy, I want to
knock the diet soda out of their hand, grab their shoulders and shake them, and yell "Look at
Warren over there! He's cute. He's smart! He's funny! And he'll never ask you out because he's
terrified you'll say no. I'd love to date him, except he's my cousin. And if you don't like Warren,
a quarter of the guys at this school are in the same boat. Instead of sitting here feeling sorry for
yourself, get over there and ask him for help with your Chemistry homework. You'll both have a
great time.... and honestly, your grades could use some help, too."
There are even some guys who like big girls too, you know? Even as big as I am. I know this
guy, let's call him Roger. One time I sat in his lap, just as a joke, you know? And he liked it! I
had been sitting there and I was getting worried; so I asked if I was too heavy, and he said it was
nice! He told me I was heavy, but it didn't hurt at all because I was so soft! I guess so! Anyway, I
could tell he liked it because I could feel.... anyway, he really liked it! I hang around with him,
but I'm really looking for someone who can speak in complete sentences.
"Careful there, Deb, or you're going to be the fattest girl in the world."*1
"Yeah, right, Daddy." I grinned at my father, then scooped a huge spoonful of apple pie and ice cream into my mouth. Dad laughed; he was only teasing. His latest Barbi glared her disapproval from across the table; that was okay, I didn't approve of her, either. I don't even remember her name, but it didn't matter; they were all alike, tall and slender and buxom and hard and fake, so I just call them all Barbi. Some of them never even notice. The cook smiled as she cleared the table; she knew who appreciated her food! She had a job for life, as long as she kept cooking like this!
Okay, I'll admit it. I'm a big girl; I hit 300 lbs. before I started my Junior year in high school; that was just a couple of months ago. It shows, too; I've got this big pillow of a belly that fills half my lap, and my breasts... well, they're big and soft, and they sort of lie on top of my belly when I'm sitting down. Big hips, of course, that goes with being a girl. Well, maybe not this big; they reach past both sides of my chair. So what? I think it's kind of kewl!
I know lots of girls don't feel that way. I'm always hearing the Barbi's whine about their weight, and the girls at school are almost as bad. I mean, it's so funny to hear someone half my weight complain how fat she is. Really? What does that make me? Don't answer that! At least I don't sit around and moan 'poor me, I'm so fat, no boy will ever ask me out!' To hear them speak, they sit home alone every Friday because they are soooo fat... like all the skinny girls go out every night with a different boy! I think not!
And they talk like the only point of living is to have a guy ask you out! Am I really going to let my happiness depend on what some guy decides to do? Get real! Not that I have anything against guys, of course. Far from it. It's not hard to attract a boy, if you are willing to put up with a jerk... which I am NOT. No, it's finding a quality male that's difficult. My friend Angela could be a swimsuit model, her waist is like the size of my thigh, and not my upper thigh, either; even she ends up sitting home some nights. Okay, yeah, she gets asked out more than I do, but I'm not complaining. At least not as much as a lot of girls, anyway.
Sometimes it makes me mad, though. When I hear girls whine about their little tummy, I want to knock the diet soda out of their hand, grab their shoulders and shake them, and yell "Look at Warren over there! He's cute. He's smart! He's funny! And he'll never ask you out because he's terrified you'll say no. I'd love to date him, except he's my cousin. And if you don't like Warren, a quarter of the guys at this school are in the same boat. Instead of sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, get over there and ask him for help with your Chemistry homework. You'll both have a great time.... and honestly, your grades could use some help, too."
There are even some guys who like big girls too, you know? Even as big as I am. I know this
guy, let's call him Roger. One time I sat in his lap, just as a joke, you know? And he liked it! I
had been sitting there and I was getting worried; so I asked if I was too heavy, and he said it was
nice! He told me I was heavy, but it didn't hurt at all because I was so soft! I guess so! Anyway, I
could tell he liked it because I could feel.... anyway, he really liked it! I hang around with him,
but I'm really looking for someone who can speak in complete sentences.
When I left the table, I was still thinking. Dad might have a point, even if he was just kidding. Come to think of it, that was my third helping of pie, and I've put on at least forty pounds in the past year. Not that I'm upset about that, but what if it keeps happening? Will I have to start watching what I eat? Not to get skinny, like that would ever happen! But will I have to cut back on what I eat just to stay the same size? It seems likely, unless I want to just keep getting bigger and bigger.
Somehow that thought stuck with me all evening; I couldn't get it out of my mind. Bigger and bigger? The fattest girl in the world? Ridiculous! I would have to be twice the size I am now... probably bigger! When I was watching TV with Dad I kept wondering how much of the couch I would fill up. That's when I realized I had just finished my second bowl of ice cream, on top of supper and all that pie. When I went to put the bowl in the dishwasher, I though 'why the heck not?' and got a another!
Up in my room I couldn't stop thinking about getting larger and fatter. I undressed for bed and looked at myself in the mirror. Yes, I was fat, no doubt about that! And it looked pretty good, all smooth and round and soft. Soft? I realized I was gently kneading a handful of belly fat in one hand, and man, was I ever soft!. Soft and warm and really nice...this was getting weird! Looking in the mirror, I tried to imagine myself larger. What would a hundred pounds do? With a shock, I realized I had probably gained a hundred pounds since puberty. Jeez! Maybe I had better cut back! Sometime soon, but not today. Well, not too soon... next year sounded better. Or maybe the year after that.
When I went to bed, I couldn't get to sleep. Fattest girl in the world? I mean, like HUGE?! How would I finish school? How would I work? Well, Dad's rich... he came up with a better way to make elbow joints for plastic water pipe... Big whoop!... unless you happen to be in the plumbing biz, in which case you pay Dad his first few million for the idea. So if I wanted to, I really could just sit around and be as fat as I wanted. And then I thought... right now, my career plans are writing or programming....not very active jobs. Hmm. This is crazy! Why am I even thinking about this? But I didn't stop.
So I just laid there in bed, all hot and bothered, and I just had to reach down and touch myself, only usually I'm thinking about Brad, or some movie hunk, but now I was thinking about me! This was just too, too strange!
The next morning I went to school; in the hall I met Angela, (bikini model covergirl, remember her?) and Brad (star of many romantic dreams, and if you tell him I'll kill you!) All the girls ooh and ahh over Brad; he's perfect. Tall, handsome, muscular, top of his class, captain of the football team... he's even going to West Point! Isn't that just too much? He's not a person, he's a cliche! Nice guy, but really serious. Too serious. Almost grim. Someday he'll die bravely winning a war or be the first person to land on Pluto or something like that. And maybe sometime he might even smile or crack a joke. Nah!
Brad usually goes out with Angela. Everyone assumes the two perfect people at school will naturally pair up. Not so, except by default. They are just good friends, but everyone is sure they are a couple. Brad is probably saving himself for marriage. Angela, on the other hand, will have trouble saving herself for this afternoon. No, that's not fair, she really isn't like that... but she told me she once let Brad know she was interested, but his reaction was 'I'm flattered, but no, thank you.' Maybe he's gay? I've heard all the great guys are gay. Hmmm.
I had just met Roger and Angela when Roger came around the corner. "Hi, guys!." he called. He came over. "Hi, uh, Deb," he grinned. That's just the way Roger is.
"Hi, uh, Roger," I teased.*3
He doesn't mind. Well, I guess he doesn't mind; he's never said anything. Then the bell rung and I had to go to class; Calculus is usually fun, like a puzzle, and history is always boring, but that's because of the way Ms. Pergintine teaches. Today, though, I don't think I learned a thing; all I could think about was getting fatter and being huge. At lunch I gobbled my meal, stole Roger's dessert, and stared longingly at Angela's plate, which still held almost all of her food.
Angela was on one of rants... 'It's so difficult being a girl with a body like mine.' No, she's not fishing for compliments; she does this all the time, and she means it.
"I didn't do anything to be this way; it's not anything I earned, but people all expect me to act a certain way and be a certain type of girl. I mean, I don't want people to think of me as just 'that girl with the big tits." Here's a girl who could be a Barbi, if she only had half as many brains. She does have a point, but that doesn't stop me from being sarcastic, usually. Today, though, I was distracted and let her ramble on, until she comes out with a comment like "It's such a burden to have breasts like these!" We all just stared at her! I mean, they're big, but not that big! I never knew she could blush like that.
School was over, so it was time to do some serious research. As I drove home, I made plans. First, hit the Net; there should be stuff about fat women somewhere; I mean, you can find anything on the net. Probably mostly weight loss sites: "Here's how big I used to be and how I lost it all" Still, there should be pictures, stories, all sorts of information. I could always look at the diets and do the opposite.
Hmmm.... Just how big was the heaviest woman in the world,. anyway? 700 pounds? 800? How much did she eat? Could she walk? This is crazy... but I can't stop thinking about it!
At home I started up to my room, then made a detour by the kitchen; I needed some calories! I got a huge bowl of ice cream, over half a carton, then added a big bag of chips. 'Chips first,' I thought; 'Nice and salty, and by the time I finish them the ice cream will be all soft and gooshy.' With greasy fingers I logged on and discovered a whole new world!
Here were women who made me look like Kate Moss! Women larger than me who posed ... well, I suppose you would have to call them dressed, but only technically. Sort of. Huge soft women who made little computer movies of themselves eating and rubbing their tummy and jiggling. Men who were begging for more pictures. I resolved to ask Dad for a digital camera for Christmas. No, for my birthday; I didn't get anyone prosecuted for being a pedophile. I mean, I know I'm mature and have good judgment (most of the time, anyway) but how would the law know?
I learned a new vocabulary, too. I already knew I was a "BBW", or maybe a "BBT", a Big Beautiful Teen. If I put on a few more pounds, I'll be "supersize". Any guy who was attracted to me would be, in my own opinion, a "Man of Good Taste". If he was attracted mainly because I was fat, though, he would be an "FA", or Fat admirer. Sounds like the same thing to me. I had suspected as much... bodies come in all shapes and sizes; doesn't it make sense that someone would be attracted to each and every type?
Here was something strange... A lot of women on BBW boards and chat lines complain about guys who are turned on by their fat. Excuse me?A man thinks you are beautiful and this is a problem? Not me! Oh, I guess I wouldn't want a guy whose only interest in me was my fat any more than Angela would want a guy who only cared about her boobs. Still, any applicant for the position of "Deb's Serious Boyfriend" had better be totally wild about my body, and that means attracted to fat.
I read more and started to find out the crowd I really belonged to. Some people really get into gaining weight or seeing someone else gain. Bingo! If a guy helped me gain, encouraged me to eat and told me how he loved me getting fatter, he would be a "Feeder". That sounded interesting.. I need one of those! Let's see.. If I gain, then I would be a "Feedee". I don't like that term... it sounds so passive, like I just receive food someone gives me. I need something more aggressive, like 'I'm going to stuff this body and make it grow'. There doesn't seem to be word for that... maybe I can come up with one?
I also found the word "immobile," meaning too heavy to walk or maybe even stand up. Did I want that? With a shock I realized that instead of a resounding NEVER! in my mind I was actually wondering what it would be like and how I could make it more pleasant.
I found Rosalie Bradford. She's the Guinness Book record holder for heaviest woman, at an estimated 1200 pounds. That's four of me! WOW! But she wasn't happy that size, so she lost it all. I could see that; what's the point of being something you don't enjoy? World record super-fat size should be reserved for people who get a thrill out of it. Like me? Maybe.
There were a couple of pictures there, but they weren't very good. I mean, I could see she was huge, but it was impossible to tell anything about her shape I looked down at myself. Four times the weight....
From downstairs I heard a guitar; that meant Dad was home. I had to talk this over with him, at
least a little, so I pushed my fat thoughts aside and went downstairs.
I found him doodling, writing a song. He's really good... I mean, like a pro. I walked up behind and listened a few minutes, and when he paused I cleared my throat.
"Suppose a person wants to do something everyone else thinks is crazy? Something other people would think was weird, or unpopular, but you really think you might want to try."
"Why should you care what other people think? Don't even think of changing yourself to be popular." He really meant it.
"It's not about being popular, really... It's more like everyone would think this was a huge mistake"
"I take it this person is you?" I nodded. "And what are you thinking about doing?"
I shook my head. "Maybe nothing... I'm not sure. I'll tell you when I decide." Dad frowned, then shrugged. "I'll trust your good judgment, Honey." Have I got a great Dad, or what?
He looked down at the guitar in his hands, played a few notes and put it aside.
"Let me tell you a story. When I was in college, just a serious, straight-A engineering nerd, I was in a band. Not one you've ever heard of, but we were pretty good. And during my Junior year we got an offer to cut a record, plus be an opening act for some really big name groups. So I had to decide... did I want to go off and maybe become a rich and famous rock star, or did I want to finish school? You can guess what kind of advice I got, too, from my family, my professors, and all my friends around the engineering school. They said I had a great future, and I was going to throw it all away for a shot at some improbable dream."
"And you decided to do the smart thing and stay in school."
"Nope!" He grinned. "I dropped out and we started touring the Midwest. A different town every night... Booze, drugs, girls...I was never into the drug thing, though." Huh? Dad!? My Dad?
"And you didn't like it?"
He burst out laughing. "I loved it! A party every night, the girls.... Deb, this was the 80's... after 'the pill' and before anyone worried about HIV. And the music, and the crowds..." His voice trailed off. Dad?
"So what happened?"
"We stunk. Well, not really...the crowds loved us, but our album didn't sell and our label dropped us like a hot rock. After a year we broke up, and then I went back to school. Sure, I was a year behind, but I'm glad I did it. If I hadn't, I would have kicked myself about it my whole life."
I thought a moment. "So you're saying go for it?"
"I'm saying there are only a few things you can't change your mind and back away from. Most decisions don't have to be permanent. Is yours?"
"Maybe not..." Could I gain all this weight, then lose it?? That would be a heck of a diet! But it was possible, at least in theory.
"Deb? Before you do anything serious, talk to me, okay? And don't assume my answer will be an automatic 'No'"
"Oh... I've got a date coming over for supper, and then we're going out. Be nice, okay?" Another Barbie after Dad's money. Great.
"Okay. I'll be good." I resolved to be really nice, no matter what.
"And don't call her Barbie."
"Okay... what's her name?" I guess they have names...
"S-U-Z-I ?" I spelled.
"Yeah.... how did you know?" He gave a resigned smile. Why did he date these bimbos? He didn't know himself.
At supper, I was perfectly gracious. Really. Why do you doubt me? I greeted her at the door, and suffered her inspection in silence. I did my own inspection as well, just to see if she was up to specs: Five seven. Thin, thin, thin, with big stiff hair. Big stiff boobs, too. Perfect clothes. I'll bet she has a whole Malibu Playhouse full of perfect clothes. I led her to the living room and left her alone with Dad.
Supper was a tiring experience. This woman watched every bite I put in my mouth, keeping a running calorie count. She chattered away about nothing in particular, taking inventory of the dining room and trying to estimate Dad's net worth.
"Is everyone done with dessert?" the cook said, clearing dishes away. "Why, you haven't touched yours!" she chided Barbi... I mean Suzi. For supper she had unsweetened tea, two kernels of corn, and a sprig of parsley.
"Could I have another?" I asked.
"Certainly," the cook answered. Suzi scowled, but Dad didn't notice.
"Go ahead, it's really good!" I enthused. If she would only taste it, she might like it.
"No, thank you." She gave a hard, tight lipped smile. "I'm afraid if I ate like you, it wouldn't be too long until I started to...."
This time Dad noticed, and the temperature dropped like fifty degrees. "Before we go, let me check in with the plant." He picked up the phone. "Bad news... I have to go check on something. I'll have to ask you for a rain check for tonight. Can I drop you off?"
"No, thanks.... I'll call a cab." That's a good thing about Barbis; they know when to cut their losses and move on.
Ten minutes later she was gone, and Dad was conspicuously not going to the plant.
"Sorry Dad. I really was trying to be nice."
"You were. Not your fault.... this time." He went into his studio, and I heard his guitar again; sad stuff this time, the songs he played when he was thinking of Mom. She passed away when I was little.
I can barely remember Mom, but I missed her too. In my memory, she's the most beautiful woman in the world. In old pictures, she's nothing special, but I remember she was warm and funny. And soft. I thought about going to bed, but then I just sat in the living room and listened to Dad play in the next room.
The next day, all this fat stuff was back in my head. Since I'm my father's girl, I get analytical about all sorts of things, especially when I'm all excited or confused. And since I was thinking of fat, just how big would 1200 pounds be? Let's see... four times the weight is twice the volume... and since I'm not getting taller that means twice as wide, twice as thick, twice as big around. A little more actually, since my head and feet won't grow, but lets keep it simple. Hips. I eyeballed the distance from navel to hip, then moved my hand out that much farther. Now the other side.. my hips should be about this wide. Jeez! I'm gonna fill up a whole sofa, or almost! How about my belly? Twice as thick, from front to back... it's going to be hanging off my knees when I sit down! I may not be able to reach the end! I listened to the way my thoughts were phrased, and realized I had made an unconscious decision: I was already thinking "its going to" and "I'm gonna", not "maybe I will..."
Okay, let's try gaining for a little while. Don't tell anyone, and just see what it's like. I raided the fridge downstairs... remember, I had already finished off all that ice cream and a whole bag of chips. Potato salad, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and a bag of cookies went back to the bedroom with me. I ate and ate, and dreamed about becoming huge.
The next day I started eating as much as I could. I cleaned out the fridge and all food in the cabinets. The next day, I asked Dad for money and stopped at the grocery on the way home. I got bags and bags of, well, junk, all snacks with lots of calories. Most of these I took straight to my room. I had a huge supper, then hid out in my room all evening, stuffing my fat face. Only surprise, I didn't really feel all that stuffed! I knew I had always been a big eater, in more ways than one, but honestly I amazed myself at how much I could hold.
I kept this up, day after day, for the next couple of weeks. I took to picking up two or three drive-thru burgers on the way home from school, and another couple to have later at home after supper, and I would pick up a half-dozen doughnuts and leave them in the car to eat on the way to school. After my 'real' breakfast, of course.
All this food produced quick results. I put on over twenty pounds in two weeks, and all my clothes were getting tight. I was delighted; this was so easy! I was gaining like crazy, and I wasn't even stuffing myself that much. Well, I was, if you thought about how much food I was eating, but I hardly ever felt stuffed! What would happen when I quit trying to hide how much I was eating and let myself eat openly?
I had to tell my friends. If it was something this important to me, I had to share it with them. Brad, Roger, Angela and I had been together all through school, and we had all helped each other out.
When Roger's mom remarried, her new husband hated Roger, and his mom always took her husband's side; he started hanging out here, or at Brad's or Angela's... mostly here, because my dad was so easygoing.
Last spring when Angela thought she might be pregs, I was as anxious as she was. No, we didn't tell Roger or Brad, and it wasn't one of them... it was more "why did I even say hello to this guy, much less go to bed with him?" And her parents, and all the teachers, and most of the students think she's this perfect goody-goody total innocent... they would be shocked if she they knew she had ever looked at a boy. She smiles and plays along and lets them think they can see her halo, but underneath... underneath, there's something devious, almost twisted. For a while she talked about getting a pierced tongue, and how it excited her: She wanted to shock people. She went on on about how everyone would disapprove, how impractical it would be, what people would think about her.... it was like every reason not to do it made it more attractive.
And Brad... his dad was always the best at everything he ever did, and he let everyone know it, especially Brad. He's even the best at things he's never even thought of doing. Poor Brad will never live up to his Dad's expectations; no one could. He's sort of like Angela, except where she just conforms on the surface, Brad is really determined to be absolutely the best at everything, and he beats himself up when he falls short.
Tell my friends them face to face? Forget that... I just couldn't! Maybe a letter? I could plan what I had to say, use just the right words, explain why I had to do this. That would take too long, though.... Email! That was it!
It took me an hour to get my message just right. Not just that I wanted to eat everything in sight and get really fat, but why. How I wanted to do something outstanding, how I wanted to accomplish something no one else could do. How I seemed to have a natural gift for this, and how it made me feel. And I asked for their understanding, their encouragement, even, as I got larger, their help.
How would my friends react? What would they think of me? Would they laugh? What would Angela, with her perfect body; think of this? Then I thought about Brad. Suddenly I remembered how he never got hot over Angela, nor any of the other girls either... but he had always been my friend. Woo! What if Brad was a Fat Admirer? Wouldn't that be great!
I waited. I checked my mail. Nothing. Well, it's only been ten minutes! I went downstairs and watched a movie with Dad; it was one of those big sci-fi blockbusters; we picked holes in the plot and the science, counted the bodies and yelled suggestions to the cast. I even forgot about my message enough to let my stomach unknot.
With apprehension I checked my mail. There were a dozen messages, and three of them were from my special friends. I decided to save Brad for last. Angela. No, Roger first. Roger, I remembered, had shown a couple of times that he thought I was attractive... although that might apply to any girl who paid attention to him.
I got your letter. I think it sounds cool. If you want to do this, I'll be glad to help. Just let me know what you want me to do.
At least he didn't sign it 'Uh, Roger." Roger is a great guy, and he's not dumb. In fact, as far a school is concerned he does at least as well as me, but he's not exactly articulate. You know, they say the sexiest part of a person is their brain... sorry, Roger.
Awesome! What a wicked idea! Talk about breaking all the rules! Social stigma, health, practicality... next to this, a pierced tongue is nothing! I've always loved how you let yourself get so fat, and never did anything about it, but this is a hundred times better! I love the idea of someone choosing to do this to herself! This sounds so HOT! It excites me just to think about!
I can't wait!
I had been worried about Angela. She had never said a word about my weight before, but I had always wondered how she felt, having a friend who was so fat, especially compared to her. Now I knew. It was interesting, though... I had never thought of Angela felling quite this way. I couldn't put it off any longer. I clicked on Brad's name.
My Dearest Deborah;
Number those who have been granted a dream become real, and to this number add one: my humble self. Each day I am tempted and taunted by your beauty, marveling at each voluptuous curve of your being. Not once in these many days, however, did I dare to think that your present beauty could be but the beginning!
Long have I know you to be a worthy person, keen of mind and possessing a noble spirit, yet for years it has been your ample form which has haunted my dreams. And now, to think this present form may be but the bud, soon to flower into beauty greater still; I burn, I ache, and it is you who inspires such emotions.
WOW! Brad! I could feel myself blush.
Long have I wished for your touch, for the softness which is yourself, yet my fear intervenes. Unsure how such attentions would be received, I have remained silent these months, though not by choice. I, who sometime fancy myself a fountain of words am rendered dumb, scarce able to speak my name. Indeed, this has even become the source of gentle humor amongst friends, yet I am certain you never suspected your proximity to be the cause. Now, though, I must speak, I must express the emotions which have lain silent though not still for so long. My first letter was written in the manner I am wont to use in your presence, but I now feel I must dare your scorn and express myself more fully. Now I must reveal the fire which burns within, else I be either consumed by flames of madness or become a cinder, never to glimmer again.
And so I write with this hope: may my words for once reflect the content of my heart,
Your dear friend;
Roger?! "Uh, Roger?" Bewildered, I checked the From line in the message header. It was from Roger. Numbly I looked back at the message list. Sure enough, Roger had sent two messages. One was right below Brad's mail, and I had clicked on this one by mistake.
Roger wrote like that? And felt that way about me? I had never suspected! I mean, I knew he had good grades and all, and I knew he was my friend, but this? I've had other people tell me he was smart, but he always laughed it off. And I had the power to do this to him? My face felt warm, and other places too.
I just sat and thought for a few minutes, re-reading Roger's message a couple of times. It didn't change. Finally I remembered Brad's mail right below, but somehow it didn't seem to matter quite as much.
How could you even think about doing this to yourself? And how could you imagine I, or anyone, would want to help?
I have always wondered why you never tried to lose weight before; I have never understood how anyone could let herself be so fat and not even try to do anything about it.
You are smart; can't you see how unattractive you have become, how out of shape? And it has become worse the last year or so; I remember you played softball as a freshman; today you would probably have trouble running the bases!
This is insanity! Instead you should be starting to diet, and exercise as best you can. Now THAT is something I will help you with.
Okay, I guess he won't help, then. A few minutes ago I would have been crushed, but now it didn't bother me at all. I guess two out of three isn't bad, and certainly Angela and Roger sounded enthusiastic.
At school the next day I didn't see any of my friends until I met Roger and Angela for lunch. Roger was worse than ever, practically unable to complete a sentence. He looked so cute when he offered me a bag of cookies I resolved to eat every one just for him. We didn't talk about fattening me up where the other students could hear, but I invited them over to my house for a strategy meeting. We chatted about nothing while I ate my regular lunch, then the cookies. Roger just smiled, and Angela stared at me the whole time with this wild predatory look. Weird. I told Roger to come sit beside me, and at the end of lunch I told him 'Thank you' and squeezed his hand. When he walked away I swear his feet didn't touch the ground!
After school I stopped and picked up a load of Deb chow... bags and bags of the most fattening junk I could find. I looked at all that food filling up the trunk of my car and thought that every bit of that would soon be in my stomach! Wow! When I got home, I found Angela waiting.
"Hi!" She met me at the car. "I've been thinking about this."
"Great," I answered. "So have I. Here, help with these bags."
"Man, oh man!" she said, looking at what I bought. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"
"You bet." I picked up a couple of bags and headed in, but she was busy looking at my groceries.
"Ice cream. Cakes, doughnuts, chips... all this stuff is super-high-calorie! I'm not going to be snacking along with you!" She patted the flat space where her tummy ought to be.
"Oh, go ahead." I teased.
"Nope... No time soon, anyway. But I can't wait compare my body with yours, especially as you start gaining. My waist is 23 inches... what's yours?"
"I'm not sure... more than double that." We put the ice cream and other frozen stuff up, then went out for another bag.
"And your legs... your leg has to be the size of my hips!"
"Hmmm" I considered. "Probably a little more?"
"We'll have to check," She enthused. Gee, she was really getting into this! I mean, of course I was excited about it; after all, it was my body! Was Angela bi? A fat admiring bisexual? I knew she went for guys too. The thought didn't bother me, but I was surprised.
"Yeah... we'll have to get a tape measure and check." I dumped my bags; we could move most of this stuff up to my room later.
"I brought one. Say.... you're out of breath, aren't you, just from carrying that stuff in from the car?"
"What? I guess so."
"You're breathing hard, just from that little bit of work! You are really out of shape, Deb."
"Well, it was two trips," I said defensively.
"Don't get upset; I love it! You're going to be so fat and so out of shape! I can't wait!"
"I guess so... If I get as big as I want, it'll be a struggle just to walk." I thought of some of the women on the Net. There's no telling what Angela would have said then, but Roger came in.
"Hi, Angela! Hi, uh, Deb." He smiled, like always, but this time it was more like 'I love seeing you' rather than 'I hope you don't mind me being here.'
"Hello, Roger." And I gave him a great big smile, to make sure he noticed.
We sat down at the kitchen table, they loaded up a plate for me, and we began to make plans.
"Okay, at school we make sure Deb has all the lunch she can hold... I'll run out to my car every day to pick up snacks."
"Okay" They were both taking this seriously, Angela more so than Roger... maybe even more than me.
"Roger can make sure you get a couple of candy bars during the ten minute break, right?"
"Uh, yeah." He smiled, hesitated, and actually reached over and patted my hand! I smiled back at him again and he grinned like a lunatic! Jeez, the thought of having that kind of effect on him was sort of neat. This was to be encouraged!
"Oh, yeah... usually you walk down to the end of the wing, down the stairs and back to get your books for Chemistry?:" I nodded. "From now on I'll bring you your stuff."
"I can do that... it's no problem"
"No; we want you to get as little exercise as possible. Oh, and you don't take the stairs up to get to English last period, either.. take the elevator." I frowned; the elevator is for handicapped students. Well, anyone can use it, but those are the only people who do, usually.
On the other hand, I really hate going up two flights of stairs. I looked down at my belly filling half my lap, and knew why. From now on I'll take the elevator!
Over the next few days, we fell into a schedule that kept me stuffed almost the entire day. Each day I got up, ate a big breakfast, then picked up Angela on the way to school; she would drive so I could eat. She brought something like a half dozen slices of toast, slathered with butter and jam, or else we would stop for doughnuts or something. At break I gobbled down three or four candy bars just to hold me until lunch. All three of us would bring stuff, so lunch was a big meal. In fact, lunch was a challenge; it was hard to eat fast enough to get really stuffed in that short time. I had to be stuffed, of course, because had to go three and a half hours with no food, all the way to the three o'clock bell. And yes, by then I would be hungry and my stomach would be growling. Roger even told me it sounded dangerous.... He didn't want anything that big growling at him!
There's a little alcove in one corner of the cafeteria; that always had been our place at lunch even before Brad quit speaking to us. Now we would go there, not really hidden but with a little privacy. I would eat as fast as I could swallow, trying to gulp down as much as possible before the bell rang. Who knows what the other students said behind my back... and who cares? I was doing exactly what I wanted!
It was amazing how quickly I adapted to this sort of eating. I guess my stomach stretched to hold more. I never dreamed anyone could eat so much, much less about doing it myself. After a few weeks I was starving if I didn't get enough; that is, if I had to eat like a normal person.
After school I would run out to my car and head home because I knew there was a stockpile of fattening treats waiting. Well, I didn't actually run... To tell the truth I never ran even before, and now Angela would kill me.
At home, I begin to really eat. I would stuff myself with junk even when I was alone, but most times either Roger or Angela came over to visit, just like before. Now they would encourage me, though in different ways.
Angela brought me food and told me I had to eat it, and if I stopped for even a moment she reminded me I needed to keep going. This bugged me a little, but I began to think of her as my coach. After all, I was going for the world's record, and I needed someone to keep me working toward my goal. Hey, I was in training. At first, Angela would join me and have like one cookie or a spoon full of ice cream, but then she gained a couple of pounds, though no one else could see where. She started running a couple of miles a day and wouldn't touch a bite of anything at my house, saying everything was too fattening. When I was stuffing myself, I would offer her things and tell her how good everything was, just to bug her... and I could tell it did, but she still wouldn't eat with me. The poor girl!
Speaking of running... I actually did try to run once; I was about 380 pounds or so, and hadn't ran a step for months. After this I knew not to try again. I was wearing shorts; my thighs slapped together and my belly bounced all around, throwing me off balance. After a few yards I had to stop anyway because my legs got tired, and by then I was gasping for breath and could barely breathe. Angela fussed at me, but she also wanted to hear all about it over and over again. She told me to never, never do it any more; I wasn't supposed to get any exercise if I could help it. Then she said if I ever DID try it again, she wanted to hear all the details..
Roger, on the other hand, never tried to make me eat more than I wanted, but he had this way of looking at me.... He would smile and make me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world, and I knew how much he loved seeing me eat, and how it made him so happy he could hardly stand it. I would get this warm feeling in my tummy, and a little lower down, too. When I felt like that, I just had to keep eating. Say I'm eating cookies. He looked deep into my eyes, touch my shoulder or maybe my hair, then watch my hand as it traveled from my mouth to the bag, then back. He would smile as I chewed and swallowed, then flick his eyes downward to my neck, breasts and belly, just like he was following the cookie on its path. I would eat the last cookie and he would smile, and it's like "Thank you" and "I love seeing you do this" and "I knew you could do it" and just a little "What next?" all rolled into one. And I couldn't let this end, so even though I've eaten too much already I would say "Could you get me a carton of ice cream please?"
"Of course, my darling Deborah." He's the only person who called me Deborah and not Deb, and I loved that too. And of course I had to eat all the ice cream, because he brought it to me. My motivation changed, too. Before, I kept thinking of the world's record; now, I thought about Roger.
Once I started eating like this, I blew up like a balloon. I guess I gained about fifty pounds in the first four months after Dad put the idea in my head. When I got to about 360, I was feeling pretty guilty about not talking with Dad. I promised to talk it over with him before I did anything, but then I immediately started stuffing myself. I kept telling myself these pounds weren't permanent; I could always lose them, at least in theory. Ha! It was an excuse, and I knew it. I should have told him fifty pounds ago.
At least Dad had never been anti-fat. As big as I am, he's has never said anything about my weight. Oh, he might joke about it, the same as I do about his bald spot, but that's all. Still, I knew he wouldn't go along with his daughter gaining a ton of weight. No, that's an exaggeration: just a little over half a ton should give me the record. He probably wouldn't scream at me or anything like that, but I knew I was headed for one of those 'Think about the situation. What is the smart thing for you to do?" talks.
I had a big problem, though; I didn't want to stop. I loveddoing this; it was the biggest kick I've ever had. I like eating all the time, I like sitting around and being lazy, and I love how soft and big I am getting. I like the idea of being special and different and unique. (Doesn't that sound a lot better than weird?) I like working toward a goal, and I like doing something no one can do as well as me! Oh, yeah... I have to admit I love the attention I am getting from Angela and especially Roger. Still, I had given my word.
"Dad? Remember when I said I was thinking of doing something?"
"Oh, yes, that mysterious thing you might or might not do. I've been waiting to hear about that."
"Uh, yeah. I've been meaning to talk to you about it. See, I've kind of decided. I have a... goal I want to reach."
"Somehow I don't think it's the Nobel prize? And you don't think I'll approve. If you did, you would have talked it over with me a lot sooner, right?. "
"Right." I took a deep breath. "I want to gain weight and become the heaviest woman in the world."
He looked me up and down, and I could tell he was taking a good look of all the new pounds I had added, really noticing for the first time. It was hard not to suck my stomach in, not that it would do any good. I bit my lip. "That explains why we needed more money for food. And new clothes."
"Yeah," I admitted. "I know I said I would talk to you about it... and I am. I guess I wanted to see what it was like first."
"Well better late than never, I suppose... Do I have to ask what you decided?"
"Dad, I've thought about it a lot. Really! I feel like.. like I have a special ability to do this. Of all the women in the world, I'm special; I have a better chance to reach the world record than almost anyone."
"You've really thought this through?"
"Okay... let me hear some of these reasons you were talking about"
"Well, I can eat more than just about anyone; you know that!" Actually, he had no idea how much I was eating now, and I wasn't going to tell him just then. "And I love all the most fattening food."
"That's not quite what I was asking about, Honey. This is a totally crazy idea. You know that."
I nodded glumly. I could see how this was going.
"Of course, people do totally crazy things all the time. Sky diving. Smoking. Dating women you know will never make them happy...." He paused to make sure I appreciated the irony of that one. "Drag racing. Rock climbing. What I want to know is why you think this might be possible for you but not anyone else."
"Oh. Heredity, for one thing. All four of my grandparents are still alive, and none of them has ever had heart trouble, or even high blood pressure. No diabetes in the family either." I glanced at Dad; he was listening like he might actually consider this. "And age. I'm only sixteen, and my body should be able to stand the strain better than someone older. And..."
"Well, I might be able to arrange for special care other people couldn't afford: special furniture, a bath, maybe a nurse, frequent checkups.... of course, a lot of that depends on you."
"So you don't just want permission... you want me to help, at least financially."
"Yes," I said meekly.
"What about education?"
"I'll finish high school... I'll be in the top three in my class, I promise."
"Oh, I know that. And after?"
"Online University. Math major. Maybe a minor in Philosophy." Online was great; you could get a real degree and never have to attend class. Tough, though; I had already earned a few credits, and it was actually harder than anywhere else.
"Online sounds good; it's not MIT, but better than a lot of other real world colleges." He shook his head. "I can't say I'm overjoyed with the whole plan...what if I say no?" I just sat there. Would I quit if he told me to? I didn't know? What was he going to do, watch me round the clock to make sure I didn't eat? It certainly wouldn't be as much fun, I knew. I just waited for him to speak; after a long time, he shrugged.
"In a year and a half you'll be off at school anyway, won't you? And you could do whatever you wanted. And then I wouldn't have any say in this at all. So here are the conditions:"
"Thank you, Dad!"
"Just wait. Complete physical exam this week: we'll find a doctor that won't give you hell about this, but not just some quack who'll say everything's fine either. Later on, exams every month, maybe even every week. Anything major comes up, I pull the plug. And you'll live here, so I see how you are doing every day. How does that sound?"
"So you really want to do this?"
"Oh, yes... more than anything else!"
He smiled at me. "You know something? I've always wanted to go sky diving.. and I never really got up the nerve. I need to do that someday."
It was spring of my Junior year, and I was nearly 350 pounds. After school today I had changed into a low cut halter top. I had become quite proud of my fat, and I loved to show it off, but I had another reason for wearing that today. Yes, the weather was warm, but I expected things to heat up even more later.
By the time Roger and Angela arrived, I was already eating, with several partly empty packages on the table in front of me. "Hey, Roger, who are you taking to the Junior Prom?" His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Even seen a rabbit caught in your headlights?
"What? I was hoping we... I thought I would ask... You know..." Okay, he's still not quite as articulate as I would like, but I'm working on it.
I walked over to stand in front of him, grinning at his bewildered look. "If it isn't me, I'm going to have to smother you."
"Huh?" Before he could react I grabbed his head and pressed his face into my boobs, showing just how I planned to make good on my threat.
"Mmmph! Mmmmmph!" I let him up. "Had enough?"
He caught his breath, then said "No?" hopefully.
"Hmmm. Are you going to ask me to go or not?"
"Uh... do I get smothered if I say yes? Or no?" This is my own fault; I distracted the boy.... but it was fun! Fortunately he saw my frown and got serious. Meanwhile Angela is on the other side of the room, about to fall out of her chair laughing.
Roger fell to one knee before me, took my hand, and gazed into my eyes. "Deborah, I would be delighted if you would accompany me to the prom. Will you grant me this honor?" And then he kissed my hand! See, he's getting a lot better!
"That would be wonderful." He stood, and I pulled him close, kissing his cheek. Meanwhile my hands were busy elsewhere, and I whispered "Psst... here!" I slipped a condom in the back pocket of his jeans. "In case you get lucky."
He looked puzzled and extracted the small pack, then his eyes got wide and slowly a grin grew to fill his face from ear to ear.
I kissed him again, and behind his back I could see Angela give me a thumbs up. I'm so glad he asked me!
"Dad? You know next Friday is the Prom..."
"It is? I hadn't noticed the new dress, or the shoes, or the makeup..."
"Or Roger following you around like a little lost puppy..."
"Ahem. Dad. We were wondering if after the prom some of us could spend the weekend at our place in the mountains. Just sort of.... relax... for a couple of days. Just me and some friends.... really quiet, nothing wild." Roger was a friend.... I hoped he wasn't going to ask who else?, because with what I had planned, who needs a whole noisy gang along to get in the way?
"Hmmm. You know, I suppose I haven't set a very good example for you, what with the Barbi's... yeah, you're right about them, I'll admit it. Sometimes I feel I should put my foot down and say 'Hell, no!'" He sighed. "But then I remember I was away all last weekend, and you were here by yourself...If you wanted to do anything, you certainly had all the opportunity you would needed. And ... I feel like I can trust you not to mess up too bad. Don't let me down on that, okay?"
"Oh, I won't.... thanks, Dad!" I gave him a hug. It wasn't like hugging Roger, but still nice in a way. He was even right, sort of... maybe I wasn't exactly planning on being a good girl... but I was sure going to be a careful girl!
Oh, yeah.... Angela came to ask if it was okay if she went to the prom with Brad... like she had to get my permission, or something. "Hey, as far as I am concerned, Brad is just fine. He hasn't said a word to me for months, but I can see how he feels. At least he was honest about it, and respected my decision."
"Good... 'cause I get the feeling three's would be a crowd, at least at that cabin this weekend." I caught myself about to say 'oh, no, come on, we don't mind at all... Instead, I grinned and said 'thanks!"
At the prom, I was easily the largest girl there, and just about the only really big girl who tried to dress sexy. I've heard girls a lot smaller than me say how they would just die before they would wear something short, or low-cut, or backless... whatever would people say? I only cared about two people: I wanted to feel beautiful and sexy myself and drive Roger mad with desire. I think I accomplished both. My dress was green. Short. Low cut. Backless. Tight. Almost too tight, but I loved it! I'll admit there was a moment of panic when I put it on and worried if I had outgrown it in the weeks since I had been measured... but if the stretchy material clung a little tighter, or the hem was an inch higher, that was all to the good.
We danced, and Roger held me close on all the slow dances and that was heaven. After a couple of fast dances, we sat out; yes, I was a tiny bit winded, but I was afraid I might bounce out of my dress, too! Beside, that, it was just too dangerous dancing anywhere near Roger.
After the dance, we started the hour and a half drive to the mountains, stopping for supper. I had a huge meal, but then don't I always? Roger didn't know it, but this was just to tide me over for the next couple of hours. A week before, I had stocked out little vacation house with enough food for two weeks, even by my standards, and I was planning on a fantastic late night feast tonight!
When we got there I was so excited I fumbled with the key; it was frustrating, but funny, too. Once we were inside, I just stood in the center of the living room, waiting. In a moment Roger took the hint and embraced me, squeezing me tight. Slowly he peeled off my dress while I undressed him as well. Why do tuxedos have so many pieces, anyway? Roger stepped back, smiling at me, and I could tell he loved the way I looked. I mean, with him there in just his shorts, I could see... it was kind of obvious, if you understand.
I know my body had been sort of the center of his attention for a few months now. Roger had done his share of snuggling and petting, but he had never seen me like this; a bathing suit yes, but not naked... and I could say the same about him. Yes, we were slow, but it was time to make up for that tonight. I turned slowly, giving him a good look from every angle, then he surged forward and I was in his arms again.
"Deborah, you're beautiful!" We stood there, my soft, soft body molded to fit him perfectly, then I led him to the bedroom.
What followed was the first great erotic experience of my life, and if I could just relive this weekend over and over I don't think I would ever have to ask for more. Sex is great!... but then you've probably heard that before, right? But do you know what felt even better? Knowing that Roger felt I was so beautiful, and that I turned him on so very much! It was like I had this power over him, that he was just right there in my hand. Well, he was 'right there in my hand', several times.... but that's not quite what I meant!
And all that food? Oof! It's a good thing I had been stuffing this belly for months, because without all that practice I would never have made it. It was wonderful. I would eat, and he would feed me, and that would turn me on... and he would feed me more and that would turn him on... and that made me want to eat more, and so on, and so on. Hey, let me tell you what happened the next day!
I had been munching all day Saturday, and I have to say I was packed with food. For supper, we decided to run into the town nearby; I remembered seeing a pizza place. We each ordered a large pizza, but Roger only ate a couple of slices, so you know where it all ended up, don't you? I'm sure he did that on purpose! Plus more than a pitcher of soda. (Burp!) And there was a little bakery next door, and we bought a birthday cake someone named Steffie hadn't picked up; maybe her folks forgot what day her birthday was? Anyway, back at the cabin, we popped in a movie, and I was all ready for my cake.... and then Roger noticed a pie sitting out... Last night it was frozen too hard to eat, and I remembered setting it out to defrost, but I had forgotten all about it. I finished it off during the movie, and boy, was I stuffed! But then what to do about the cake?
"I have to at least try to eat part of it," I told Roger. "It's just sitting there, taunting me.
"That's right... you can't take that from a cake. Here, let me get it for you."
"Roger? I'm really stuffed... promise you won't be disappointed if I can't hold very much?"
"Of course not. You don't have to eat any if you don't want to."
"Want to? Of course I want to!... I'm just not sure if I can."
He set the cake on the coffee table, but instead of bringing me a fork, he gently pushes me back, adjusting me until I am totally reclined. Then he kneels down beside me and the crazy romantic boy scoops up a corner of the cake with his fingers and puts it in my mouth.
"Mmmmm" I ate, licking the icing off his fingers. It was so sweet, so rich! He scooped up another bite. With his other hand, he caressed my stuffed belly.
"These jeans are awfully tight."
"Too tight", I agreed. He took the hint, unzipping my jeans while I nibbled his fingers, then took the initiative by plunging his hand under my shirt and opening the front clasp of my bra. I leaned back and closed my eyes and let Roger feed me, kneading my belly and kissing my breasts, my neck....This seemed to last forever. Gently Roger fed me bite after bite, and I gently sucked his fingertips and licked off every sweet creamy bit. Oh! I was full, I was overfull, almost painfully so, but that wasn't how I thought of it. Steffie, whoever she was, was missing a great cake, but I think you would have to eat it the way I did to fully appreciate it.
After a time I realized it had been a long time since the last bite of cake. "More?"
"No more, greedy girl; it's all gone"
"Gone? It can't be." I opened my eyes and saw the plate, empty. Somehow I had eaten it all. At that moment I realized how full I really was, how close I was to being sick, and just how much such a loss of control turned me on even more.
"Oh!.....Roger, could you help me up, please?" He did, and I felt queasy. "Oh, dear... what did I do?"
"Deborah? Are you okay? Do you feel sick?"
"No. Yes. Oh.... I feel like I may explode... but I am SO turned on! Take my hand; you can walk me into the bed room. Slower, slower....Oh, my! I'm so stuffed! And now, you can carefully, every so gently, make love to me."
Back home the next week, everything was back to normal, if you can possibly apply that word to my life. Going to school, hanging out, eating enough for five people, that sort of stuff. I was home alone after school when the doorbell rang. I opened up; it was a Barbi. That was odd; Dad usually told me when he was expecting company. Oh, well; I resolved to be nice. Maybe I'm mellowing out. Maybe it was hearing Dad say he wasn't serious about any of these girls... thank heavens.
"Hi! You must be here for Dad; he's not home yet."
"Oh... He said me he was on his way home; I thought he would be here by now."
"Maybe in a little while; won't you come in?" She stepped inside and I checked her out. Without question a Barbi. Okay, this one was in plain old non-designer jeans, I'll admit, but she had the figure, the face, everything: they are all alike. Once I told Dad there was a big factory in Yugoslavia where they stamp them out by the thousands, all the same with just slight variations in hair and complexion. This one was a brunette; that was a change, and her hair looked like she had spent less than an hour on it... I wondered what happened.
"I'm Deborah," I introduced myself as we sat down. "Call me Deb."
"Hello Deb; I'm Jeri."
"J-E-R-I ?" I was trying to be nice, but I just couldn't help myself. Fortunately most of the Barbi don't recognize things like that as an insult.
She laughed. "Maybe if I were a topless dancer. It's G-E-R-R-Y. For some ungodly reason my mother thought Geraldine was a very nice name." She stood up and looked in the curio cabinets. If she was taking inventory she was out of luck; this one held Dad's fossils: I thought they were the most valuable thing in the room, but not in terms of money.
"Hey, an archaeopteryx!" She stared into the case, excited, then she frowned. "It has to be a copy. I hope it's a copy."
"Since there are only a half dozen or so in the world, yes." Was it a dinosaur, or the very first bird? Who knew? The interesting thing here was that she recognized it. She paced restlessly, wandering over to the door to Dad's studio.
"Do you play?" She had spotted Dad's guitar.
"I play piano. That's Dad's."
"Ooh... Beautiful instrument."
"Dad says it's just a box with strings."
"Yes, but this is a nice box with strings." To my surprise she reached for it, then paused. "Would he mind?" I shrugged. I mean, it's a box with strings; the music is inside the player.
She began to play. With a start I realized I knew the song; it was one Dad had written. Then I saw she was reading the manuscript Dad had left on the music stand. It sounded flawless; not the way Dad played it, but very nice indeed.
"Could you sing along? I want to hear how it sounds with the words."
It has words? "Uh, sure." I began to sing along, fitting unfamiliar words to a tune I had heard a hundred times. It was a love song to Mom. I had to blink back the tears, but I wasn't going to cry in front of this woman.
"That was beautiful." It was, too. All I could do was nod, and of course she noticed.
"I'm sorry, Deb. I really shouldn't be here, stirring though your father's things. Please forgive me." Gerry looked at me pleadingly... she was really sorry. "I should really leave now. I'll see your father later. Uh... I'll call." She put the guitar back on its stand and stood to leave.
"What I really need is to get a bite to eat," she said, half to herself. "I was busy and didn't have lunch."
"No!" I couldn't let her leave like this. I mean, I haven't always welcomed Dad's dates but I couldn't let her run off because I started sobbing like that. "Let me get you something." Without giving her a chance to protest, I almost dragged her to the kitchen. "Come on... I could use something too."
"Okay, I guess... if you are sure it's okay. What do you have?"
"Uh...." What did we have? All my fattening junk food, that's what; hardly the kind of stuff even a really superior Barbi would eat. There must have been just a touch of resentment left over from all the other Barbi's, because I said "Ice cream?"
I put the ice cream on the table, then set out bowls. A dipper. The cook had moved the spoons; where were they? As I was looking, she filled the bowls. Nice big portions. Not big for me, of course, not like my personal bowl that holds an entire carton, but a lot more than I ever expected a Barbi to eat. When I saw the bowls held almost exactly the same amount, I felt a jab of guilt: I realized I was all primed to see an insult in whatever she did. If she gave me more, I would think 'I'm fat, so I must eat more than anyone else, right', and if less, 'I'm fat, so you think I shouldn't have so much?' That wasn't fair, even toward a Barbi.
"Hey, Chocolate almond caramel fudge toffee! This is great! I'll have to remember this!"
"Uh... it has like a million calories." I know it did... that's why I ate it... plus it's really good.
"So?" She dug in eagerly, finishing before I did. "I just eat whatever I feel like, and don't worry about stuff like that. Believe me, you'll be a lot happier if you can let go of all that." This was unreal!
"Want some more?" Okay, I was testing her, just to see if she was putting me on.
"Sure!" I filled her bowl again, then got some more for myself.
"Uh, Gerry...If you eat like this...."
"Then why am I not fatter than.... " She grinned "... than you?" Gee.... a few months ago, Dad had almost thrown a Barbi out of the house for a comment like that, but this... this was just a question, not an insult.
"Yeah. Why not?"
"I have this weird metabolism; I'm really hyper, I'm always hungry, and I eat like this and never gain. Guys complain I make them fat, because they always eat whatever I'm eating. But the worst part is when women say I have to a closet bulimic or something to eat like this and stay skinny." She shrugged. "But who cares what other people think?"
"A lot of women would say you were really lucky."
"That's exactly what it is.... luck. I guess I just chose my parents correctly; that is, if you think being thin is important." She picked up the dishes and started to rinse them out in the sink. Suddenly remembering my role as hostess, I rushed to finish the job. "I also inherited a bad back, but strong teeth. That's just the way I am. Why can't people realize this is just the way a person looks; it's not who we are. I would much rather someone told me they liked one of my designs, or the way I played guitar..."
Just then the phone rang; it was Dad.
"Hi, O father O'mine. Your date is here early; she's wondering where you are."
"Date? I don't have a date tonight. " At the same time I heard Gerry echo "Date?"
"I was just calling to tell you to be on the lookout for a package; One of the engineers we're meeting tomorrow is going to drop it off this afternoon. What's this about a date?"
"Never mind... just get home as quickly as you can, okay? We have company for supper."
"Date?" Gerry repeated. "I'm going to be working with your father on the Ecuador project; I have some papers and a set of samples to show him, that's all."
"Fine. He'll be here in just a few minutes. Uh... would you join us for supper? You have to say yes."
"Are you sure? I really didn't plan on...."
"No, no... I insist. Please stay!" Please!
We had a wonderful supper, and we talked, and then I excused myself. It was time for bed.
Well, I went to bed; I don't know what Dad and Gerry did. I know they talked a
long time. That might have been engineering, but then I heard them playing music and
singing, but not Mom's song, either. Then I fell asleep and I don't know what happened
after that. When I got up Gerry was gone, but she and Dad were planning on going out Friday.
"I wonder how we could work lard into your diet."
"Lard." That was Angela; she had taken to suggesting foods she thought I should try, or ways to make the foods I liked more fattening. Most of her suggestions had to do with butter, sour cream, sugar, and all sorts of fried foods. Fortunately I love that sort of stuff already. Hey, I've had my mouth set for chips and dip, but we were out of chips so I ate a pint of sour cream dip right out the bowl! Some of the stuff she suggests is pretty gross, though... I had put my foot down at the thought of eating straight fatback; that's just slabs of pork fat. Yuck! I told her it wouldn't make me gain because I wouldn't be able to force it down. She could see that I would eat a lot more of foods I liked, so she dropped it... at least until she thought of something else. Now it was lard.
"Yuck. Again." I glanced her way. "Hey, what's that you're reading?"
"Nothing." She shoved the book in her backpack, but hey, I may be out of shape, but my eyes and my brain are as fast as ever.
:"Eat Smart for a Healthy Heart? Don't tell me they suggest lard!"
"Uh..." Suddenly everything clicked. How she was so into me getting fat; how she kept pushing me into eating all this fatty stuff, how she never wanted me to get any exercise...I felt a chill.
"Angela, you are getting off on me gaining weight, I know...and it's because I'm doing something so ... well, something everyone else would say is just wrong."
"What is it you are into? Not just the fat itself. And I know you are not really gay. Is it the way people react when they see me, the comments they have to be making? Or is it the whole health thing? Are you looking for things that are even more unhealthy?"
"No! ... yes... Oh, Deb, I'm sorry!" I just stared at her. I couldn't believe this... I thought she was my friend.
"It's.... it's sort of all of those." She sniffed... the girl was crying! "It's like you are breaking all the rules. You know, the rules everyone else lives by! What you have to look like, how everyone is supposed to be in shape, and how everyone worries about the right foods. Most people at least try to live that way, and some people break some of the rules, but they know it's wrong and wish they could live better. And then there are people who really worry about it and try to follow all those rules; that's me... I'm almost as bad as Brad! And then... there's you!"
"You are the only person I know who's really free... You're... you're just a total hedonist, and you know it! You just live for the pure pleasure of what you are doing, and you don't pay any attention to the consequences, do you? And me? I just push you further and further, to see how far out on a limb you'll go! And do you know what? You've never told me 'no'because of health ,or popularity, or appearance, or anything... the only time you've said no was because something didn't taste good!"
Okay, all that was true... I felt the same way! Well, except that I didn't just ignore the risks, or pretend they didn't exist; I accepted them, then went ahead and did what I wanted anyway. "It's okay, Angela... That doesn't make you a bad person."
I thought that would make her feel better, but she cried harder, and hid her face in her hands, saying "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"
"What is it?"
"That's not all.... I... I... a couple of years ago, I realized I was really turned on seeing people do things that are self destructive. I can't help it... I just get off on seeing people do things that ... damage themselves. Like ... When Brad had trouble with the coach, I tried to talk him into quitting football... and one time I tried to seduce Roger just so I could mess up his grades." She was crying! "And you guys are my best friends! E" She was crying more, and stopped to blow her nose.
"And especially you. Even before, I was always so happy to see you eat so much... and it looked like you didn't even notice how fat you were getting. I would drop little suggestions, and you always went along; I would stop for a candy bar and you'd get one too. Then I would take one tiny bite and you would end up eating them both." Jeez! No wonder I gained so much weight last year, even without trying!
"And since you came up with this idea, it's been all I could think about. And every time I try to get you to eat just a little more or be just a little more lazy, I feel so guilty!" She shook her head. "You have to believe me: I don't want you to be sick, be uncomfortable, or for anything to .... happen to you. But then I see the way you treat yourself... and I get so excited! I think about it all the time. And then I feel I must be an evil person to do this to someone I really ... love. Yes! Deb, you are the best friend I have ever had... and now you know what kind of friend I've been. You must hate me."
She had stopped sobbing, but she wasn't happy; she sat silently, waiting me to react. I sat silent too, thinking. "I don't hate you," I said slowly. "And you're not evil." She looked at me, unsure but hopeful.
"Last night, for a late night snack I had an all-meat pizza with extra cheese. You didn't order it; I did. And those candy bars.... you didn't hold my nose and cram them into my mouth. And you certainly haven't tied me to the sofa so I couldn't exercise! Everything I've done has been exactly what I wanted. You said I was free, remember? Well that means you haven't made me gain one ounce for the last year. It was me, all me."
"But what about the way I treated Roger? And Brad?"
I laughed. "You already told me you failed with both of them! Angela, you don't want to hurt anyone. You just enjoy watching the way we are already living our lives." I paused. "In fact, it seemed like a couple of times you were thinking of joining me."
Angela sighed. "That would be so easy, Deb; I keep fighting it. I have to fight like crazy to keep from falling."
"Let go... it's fun!"
"I'm afraid. It's not just my weight; it's everything. For the past couple of years I've been on a tightrope; one push in any direction and I'll fall. Gain a couple of pounds and I'll look like you... or lose too much and be anorexic. Let my grades drop a few points and I'll flunk everything. It's awful... I feel like I have to stay perfect, just be absolutely balanced, or I'll just say "What's the use... I've already blown everything... I might as well give up." Go too far with a guy and I'll be a total slut... that's what was happening when I thought I was pregnant. You ... you pulled me back." She grabbed my hand. "Thank you! That's why I felt so bad about what I am doing to you." She ventured a tiny smile.
"You're weird, Angela." She looked so hurt I almost laughed, which would have hurt her even more.
"And Roger is weird, and so is Brad. And I have to be the strangest of all! Normal people are so boring!" Then I did laugh, and she did too, a little.
"You really don't mind?"
"You're not ramming the food down my throat, Angela. Anyway, I think I might be able to pull this off without totally ruining my life." I explained it to her the way I did to Dad, and how he planned to help and keep an eye on me. "Sorry if this ruins the thrill for you."
For the first time, she gave a real smile. "Are you kidding? It's like someone dancing on the edge of a cliff, and she keeps telling herself she won't fall like everyone else, and she keeps getting closer... and closer... self delusion is so cool." Her eyes were bright, but then she stopped and got really serious again. "I hope you're right, Deb. Really."
I nodded. "Me too. I think we'll find out together." She nodded.
"It's hard not to get excited."
"I know, believe me. Oh, and Angela...about Roger?"
"He wouldn't at me look twice, and now I know why... he had already fallen for you... and this
was months before you started gaining!"
As time went on, I ate more and more, and passed 400 pounds. Dad and Gerry were seeing a lot of each other; not only were they dating, they were playing gigs around town. Dad was also spending a lot of time in Ecuador on his latest project, and I knew they often went there together. Things had settled down into a very comfortable groove.
Right now I was doing one of my favorite things: eating. What made this even more fun was being fed; Yum! I was stretched back on the big sofa in my new living room; Roger was sitting on my right, feeding me cake... a whole cake, if you are interested; though he wasn't using his fingers. Instead, this time Angela was on my other side with carton of Double Chocolate ice cream. They were alternating spoonfuls, and I was laying back, proud to be the center of attention... as always, lately. I was getting awfully full, though. As we talked and I ate, I decided to pass along news of someone I met a few weeks ago on the net. "Let me tell you guys about Lucinda Hanforth."
"She's kind of a celebrity on the fat chat channels, at least the ones that really talk about gaining. She talks about eating just unreal amounts of food: two large pizzas, or ten hamburgers... She told me she had once eaten three pounds of chocolate in one sitting, and another time she had ..." Then I realized Angela and Roger were staring at me. "Okay, I know I eat like that now, too... but when I first met her I was just amazed! I mean, everyone thought she was a fake until she posted some pictures, and she weighed like 850 pounds.
"Whoa!" whispered Angela.
"She weighs eight hundred and fifty pounds?" asked Roger.
"No... Her pictures showed her at that size; that was a couple of years ago. She said she's met a guy who feeds her, and she's gained a lot since then."
"Your competition has a big lead," Angela noted. "How much does she weigh now?"
"No way to tell; she says she can't walk, and anyway she doesn't know of a scale that can hold her."
"...can't walk..." breathed Angela.
"She planning to get married, and she's worried about how she's going to move into her new house."
".... can't walk..." Angela repeated. The girl is strange.... I told her so myself. I let another bite of ice cream slide down my throat, and my stomach's complains became a little harder to ignore.
"Guys, I don't think I'm going to be able to finish this. "
"Aw..." said Roger, sensing my disappointment.
"Come on; you can do it!"
"No way... I'm stuffed."
"This isn't that much for you," puzzled Angela.
"No, but I kinda had another cake and a big tub of potato salad before you guys got here."
Roger just nodded, but of course Angel asked "Just a little more?"
"I'll try, " I agreed. "But you guys have to massage my belly."
Well, they were glad to do that, of course, although they both wanted to massage my lower belly, where my new fat was piling up in a big round hanging ball. Actually the stomach is located much higher, right below the rib cage... but I didn't really care, and I could tell they didn't either. They kept feeding me, and I somehow managed to eat every bite, like always! It's funny how that happens!
"Congratulations," said Roger.
"Just keep massaging. I have to be ready for dinnertime." While they continued rubbing my soft fat, Angela reached over my belly to the empty cake tray and scrape up a tiny bit of icing.
"What are you doing?" I asked. She licked the icing off her finger and laughed.
"I love to watch you eat like this, and then I'll taste a tiny, tiny bit, just to show myself what I'm missing. I guess I just like to torture myself."
Hmmm. I really don't know if she's joking, or dead serious. Like I said, the girl is strange.
Sorry I haven't written anything in the past year, I guess I've just been to busy eating! Actually, life was pretty uneventful, with nothing interesting to talk about.
Anyway, it was the week after graduation, and like everyone else our little gang had decided to head for the beach to cut loose! Sun, fun, parties... all sorts of cool stuff! So what does every girl need when she heads off to the beach? A bikini! I already had a couple of suits for our pool at home, but none of them fit anymore; I had put on a few pounds since last summer, like maybe eighty. Besides, I wanted something special.
Actually, any suit that fit me would have to be special! I had reached 527 pounds of incredibly soft fat, and I was amazed at how large I had become. I was incredibly proud of my body I had created; after all, I had deliberately built this figure pound by delicious pound. I needed just the perfect suit to show it off, so I ordered a dozen; yeah, I know... being rich isn't really that important, but it comes in handy sometimes! I bought over the Net, of course; where else can you find clothes for a hot young babe my size?
At first I was still disappointed; even though I ordered the skimpiest suits I could find, they still contained enough cloth to make Angela a wedding dress! I wanted something like her thong bikini: two little triangles up top barely enough to cover her nipples, and another slightly larger triangle; just enough to keep her out of jail. I even tried taking a normal sized suit (one of Angela's. actually) and lengthening the ties, but it didn't work at all. First of all, I guess all the fat stretched the skin of my nipples, just like everywhere else; they are just too big to hide! I checked; my nipples are twice the diameter of Angela's; the little sticking-out actual nipple part is about the same size, but the darker circle is much larger. (Yes, we compared... and yes, Angela had a blast. I had fun too, but I would rather have Roger check them out. Oh yeah... my nipples are bigger than his, too!) I suppose I could have had a suit made with the top just a little bigger... but there was another problem. Just walking sends my breasts bouncing all around, and no matter how I tied the top they would bounce out after just a few steps. Like I said, I'm proud of this body and I want to show it off, but that's going just a little too far! I draw the line at public exhibitions.... private showings might be possible by special arrangement, if your name is Roger.
So okay, I had problems with the top... but the bottom was just as bad! My belly hung down so far it made a pretty effective fig leaf, so you couldn't even see the front of the suit! The entire bottom of the suit looked like two strings coming out from below my belly fold and leading around into my butt; everything else was hidden by my fat! I knew if I wore a suit like that I would be in trouble with the law. I had a few minutes of fun imagining myself explaining the problem to a (young, cute) policeman: "If you'll just lift up my belly, officer, you'll see I really do have a suit on...", then I decided to settle for one of the suits I had ordered.
Once I gave up on putting a micro-bikini on my maxi body, I realized the other suits were still pretty great; I was showing more skin than any other two women. Finally I had it narrowed down to three, and I took a good long look at myself in the mirror. WOW! My belly was like this huge round ball of fat, hanging more than halfway to my knees. My legs were enormous, with big rolls of fat at mid thigh; my knees were marked by more hanging fat rolls, plus a jumble of folds and dimples. My ankles were just a fold running all the way around my leg. My upper arms were like pillows, with big folds at the elbow; and my breasts were huge soft masses of fat spread wide apart, hanging down to either side of my chest. My back had these nice rolls of jiggly fat, and of course my butt was like two basketballs, only softer and larger. I walked across the room a couple of times, just to watch myself jiggle and slosh. I could have looked at myself all day, but after a few minutes all the exertion and standing had me completely worn out; I'm afraid I'd gotten really out of shape those last few months. It was time to eat, anyway. Somehow it's always time to eat.
Boy! Did I ever attract attention when I hit the beach! We had a room right at the water's edge; anywhere else would have been too far for me. The first time I waddled out onto the sand I had everyone within half a mile staring at me... or at least that's what it felt like. Yes, there were people who whispered and giggled (usually girls) and even a few who looked away, but there were some who took a good long look At first I noticed a few girls, ranging from chunky up to pretty fat (almost half my size), the type who wear navy blue suits with those little skirts. They would nod and bite their lip, and I knew they were thinking "If she can do it...".
And all the guys were staring at Angela, every male from puberty to geezerhood. That happens all the time; we are all used to it. This time, though, we noticed there were just a few guys who were looking at me the same way! I told Roger to watch and point them out. When he did, I made sure I gave them a big fat Deb smile. Some of them looked away quick, but some grinned right back, and I knew if Roger hadn't been along on the trip I probably wouldn't have been lonely for long.
Food? Well, every restaurant was a seafood buffet and all the food was fried; sometimes I would spend an hour just sitting there eating; Roger and Angela would fix me plate after plate; that was their job; my job was to eat! I have to say we all did an outstanding job!
Parties? I wore dresses so short I had to worry about my belly hanging down below the hem. I did all slow dances naturally, with Roger squeezed tight, my soft fat molded to fit ever plane and angle of his much leaner body. Some nights, though, I would do at least one fast dance, just so he could see how I bounced.
And at night? Well, needless to say we booked two rooms! Angela stayed next door... and she didn't sit home alone. She would go out... or rather stay out, after Roger and I returned to our room. In the middle of the night we could hear talking and music, so I guess she found something to do. We found something to do, too, and it was great!
It was the middle of the summer; Roger and Angela were getting ready for college and I was realizing how lonely I would be with them gone. I would miss going to college, too... I really liked school. Then Angela came over with some fateful news.
Hey, Deb, have you checked out Lucinda Hanforth's new web site?"
"You haven't seen it? Come on!"
We gathered around the computer and logged on. In a moment the page title appeared:
The World's Heaviest Woman!
As seen in Guiness!
There she was; and she was immense! Okay, I'm huge, but she was totally out of my class. It was a vanity site, of course; so there were lots of pictures. I opened thumbnails in dismay: here was Lucinda sitting on the edge of her bed, her hips spreading wider than her hands could reach. Lucinda, sprawled with her huge belly lying on the bed between her legs, completely filling the area down to her ankles. I remember Lucinda was short, only 5' 1" or so, but still! Here was another shot of her sitting, with her belly hanging down between her legs. It was resting on the floor! Her belly hung all the way to the floor!"
"This is.... incredible. How could she be that big? How could her belly stretch that far?"
"Hmmm?" Angela looked over my shoulder. "Oh... have you seen her standing?"
I opened another picture and there she was... She was holding onto the bedpost for balance, and it was clear she could never walk; even standing her belly reached the floor. "Read the comment," Angela prompted.
"One day I began to notice that when I walked, my belly would brush the floor as it bounced and jiggled, and this seemed an erotic milestone. At this point I knew I had to gain enough to make my belly lie firmly on the floor."
Another comment said "How We Took These Pictures". A click lead to this text: 'It took six of us to get a picture of me standing. My husband with the camera, me of course, and four more men to help pull me up and into position. It's been almost two years since I stood up, so I have no muscle left... and I'm so much heavier now too. I was so scared of falling... but I'm so proud of this belly I had to show it off like this for Guiness.'
I clicked blindly, opening a picture of Lucinda on hands and knees, her huge belly and breasts spreading wide, squeezed out to the sides.
Then I found this:
"I know that what I have done seems crazy, even dangerous. It is both... but I have no plans to stop. I will continue to gain, as much as possible, no matter what the consequences. I'm not going to stop gaining, ever. This is the smallest I will ever be. Some may say this is insane, and I can't argue; all I can say is that this feels right to me. Don't blame my husband; he didn't make me do this, in fact he advised against it and refused to help. It was only after much pleading he agreed." I am sorry I have been out of touch with so many of my friends online, but I have been waiting for official news: Last week we heard from the Guiness; I will be in next year's edition as the World's Heaviest Woman, with two photos. And if you think this is fat, just wait 'till next year!"
"How did she do that? How did she get so fat?"
"Read on. Click there."
Finally I found the right page. The guy she had married was a doctor . He gave her insulin so her cells would absorb sugar faster, gave her some sort of diet supplement so she could digest fats more efficiently.... even did something to her thyroid to lower her metabolism; everything she ate turned straight to fat. Did I say ate? Along with her huge meals she took an intravenous drip, pumping glucose directly into her bloodstream. She recorded her husbands futile protests: "He can't help it... He's a doctor, but he's a feeder too, and he's totally turned on by my gain. He will refuse to help and tell me how crazy this is, but then I go to work. I know I excite him so much he will always give in and give me the help I need."
It had certainly worked! Where I had gained 225 pounds in two years, she had put on almost 450 in two and a half! I dimly remember the Guiness record for gaining was something like 350 in one year, so I guess it's theoretically possible.
I looked at everything on the site; Angela had already seen it. Finally I turned away. "I can't do this."
"Any of this. I can't compete with Lucinda... the stuff she's doing is crazy. I'm not going to
take drugs and do an IV drip or anything like that. I mean... I've been doing this because it was
fun. So guys, if that's what it takes to reach the world's record, then I guess I'm out of the
Angela patted me on the shoulder. "This is going to sound really strange coming from me, but I'm kinda glad. But what are you going to do now?"
"I thought we could hop in the pool and wait for Roger."
"No, I mean about... this." Gently she patted my enormous belly, the aftereffect of my foolish quest.
" Oh. Yeah, you're right... I have to do something." I grinned. "I have to eat some ice cream, down by the pool. I'm starving!" I struggled to my feet, grabbed my swimsuit, and waddled toward the kitchen.
"You mean you're not going to lose weight? Start dieting?"
"Are you kidding? Why? I love to eat, I love being fat, Roger loves me this way... why should I change? Could you grab a couple of cartons of ice cream for me? Oh, and anything you want, too, of course."
We are all in college now. Since I quit trying the record, I decided to attend State University,. along with Roger and Angela. I thought I would have problems entering so late, but I have really good grades, and Dad is rich; that's a nice combination. Roger and I have an apartment, and I still eat like a pig... probably almost as much as before, and Roger still loves it. He does everything around our place, and still loves to feed me. I'm in a little better shape now; I can walk across campus now, and I only have to stop a couple of times to rest. I haven't lost any weight, of course; don't even think about that! Actually, I think I'm still gaining, just slower. We really don't keep track anymore, we just enjoy it.
We don't see as much of Angela now. Oh, she's still a good friend, but she has a guy of her own now. He's an athlete, or he was; a lineman, cut from the football team for being too fat. No, that was before he met Angela; I know you were wondering. Anyway, all his big muscles are soft and flabby now, and he has this gut that spills over his belt. Nothing like mine, of course, but give Angela time. She hangs all over him, and she's always saying things like "Even you couldn't eat all that.... could you?" and the big goof will say "Just you wait and see!" Or maybe he's not so dumb after all; he told her he would eat three times whatever she did... and now she's got the tiniest little belly....and I've seen the way he looks at me. Hmmm.
Oh yeah; Gerry and Dad are still together, and it looks like a permanent thing. They haven't set a date, but it's just a matter of time. Yay!
Like I said, I'm a little bigger, but what with school, I'm busy with classes, and I can't eat all the
time... and I have to walk to classes and stuff, so I'm getting a little more exercise. After school,
I'll pick some nice sedentary career and eat what I like, and if I gain, so what? Roger has hinted
about getting married, nothing definite, but he's said he wants us to always be together: that's
nice to hear. I know I'm not going to be going hungry with him around. And then? Well, I know I
can't just keep getting bigger and bigger forever. Like I said, I've gained few more pounds, but I
seem to be slowing down. Maybe I'll reach the point where I can keep eating like this and stay
the same size. Or maybe someday I might even have to diet... but not right now. Maybe in a year
or two? Nah! Maybe two or three decades? That sounds better. We'll see.
*I have to confess: if I were a better writer, these footnotes wouldn't be needed; the story itself would be clear and easy to understand, and would make my points far more effectively than these notes. Still, I have had a couple of people mention points that convince me I didn't get my meaning across completely. Rather than rewriting the story, I'm just tacking these footnotes on the end.
*Why are Deb and her friends so young? The first thing I wrote was the monologue at the top of the story. I wanted Deb to be smart, confident, aggressive, and just a bit naive. When I went back and read what I had done, it just sounded like a high school girl, so I went from there. If this bothers you, pretend she's in college, not high school; it isn't that important to the story.
Actually, Deb is my vision of the type of girl I wish I had met in high school; I was almost too shy to even speak to a girl; I really needed someone like Deb to come along and take charge! That's not what I would look for now, but at the time it would have been wonderful!
*In case you haven't figured it out, Roger is ME; the way I saw myself in high school. I wish I had known a girl like Deb then....
*Dad isn't just a character, he's an archetype. (I've been carrying that word around for years and finally got a chance to use it!) I've heard dozens of people say their parents gave them a hard time about their weight. Here's a really cool Dad who can see his bright, mature daughter is capable of making decisions on her own, and he respects her enough to support her, even though he may not personally agree.
Is Dad realistic? Just let me say I don't think I will be this permissive with MY daughters! But I hope when they are teens I can treat them like young adults rather than as children.
*Deb is bursting with confidence... but she still has an attitude problem when it comes to Dad's girlfriends, and by extension to all slim, popular, conventionally beautiful women. I see some of this in the fat acceptance community too. What I wanted here was a character who could show her a woman can be really thin and beautiful, a wonderful person, and not at all absorbed with her own appearance. I also wanted Gerry to demonstrate my vision of a truly fat-accepting thin person: she notices Deb is fat, even remarks on it, but has a 'so what' attitude.
Then too, Dad was such a cool guy I wanted to set him up with a nice girl.
(Note to anyone at Mattel: She calls these girls Barbi, with no 'E' on the end... no relation whatsoever with a certain popular fashion doll....)
*All right, I can see a LOT of people upset about Angela. I rewrote her twice, and hope my meaning comes through. She has to be there; in a way she, and Deb's response to her, are the most important things I have to say.
Angela is a feeder. Not just that, she represents the 'dark side' of feeding: she gets turned on by Deb being out of shape, when she eats all the fatty, 'wrong' foods, end especially by the way Deb just doesn't seem to care! No one seems to talk about how erotic nature of feeding conflicts with practical reality.
Feeders and feedees all seem to deal with this differently. Some deny that such a conflict exists. Some ignore it as long as they can. Some restrain themselves and make feeding a fantasy, never acting on it. Some try to gain (or encourage) while eating healthy and getting lots of exercise. Some set limits: this far, but no further.
Angela hasn't worked this out yet. She is turned on by Deb gaining, but also feels tremendously guilty. Deb, on the other hand, has worked all this out: she has weighed the odd, examined the risks, and is ready to accept the consequences. She knows exactly what she's doing.
So even if Angela gives you the creeps, try and realize she is basically a good person trying to deal with some very strong desires she found deep within herself. At the moment she's overwhelmed with guilt because her emotions are in such strong conflict with her intellect.
*Lucinda is what could happen to Deb in a few years. Not just physically, either. She had applied considerable intelligence and dedication toward reaching her goal. She loves what she has done, and is tremendously happy with the result! Everything else in her life is subordinate to this. Instead of 'feedee' think 'Olympic Athlete'. Her husband, in a way, is Angela. When Deb gets a real look at what it will mean to reach this goal, she decides it's just not worth it.
There's another reason Lucinda is here: The title promises a look at the 'The Fattest Girl in the World', and I thought it only proper she make an appearance! And yes, I think that if the heaviest woman in the world were someone who loved the role and was still happily, aggressively gaining, she would be a lot like this.
*Angela has found someone who knows exactly what she's doing, and is already in the process of turning the tables. A Happy Ending was Had By All.