Weight Room Title Bar

Jasmine's Secrets
By Jay Tee

(Illustrated by the Author)

3. Jumpy Playground

Jasmine Stuart knew that she weighed 115 pounds, but the image in the door-sized mirror of the walkway suggested to her something between 300 and 350 pounds. She was totally naked. Every time she returned home the first thing to do was close the curtains. Evil visions lurked out there, waiting for an unguarded moment. But she had nothing to fear this time.

She walked back and forth several times in front of her reflection, delighting her eyes with every bounce and the consequent ripples running untamed through her enlarged anatomy. "That's a lot of fat..." She repeated it twice.

The doorbell buzzed at the front entrance. A window glass breaking in a cathedral, a rush of blood to the face. Jasmine froze in the middle of her model's walk, unsure what to do next. A second buzzing invaded her space. She moved slowly through the apartment and checked the source of this disturbance through the door peephole. Kate was walking back to her apartment next door, probably there out of a "Would you lend me something?" urging.

"Wow... Fatness!" Once the unexpected intruder situation was under control, the happiness returned to Jasmine's obese features. It was an amazing thing to be so... overwhelming (was that the word?) Her never-ending cheeks had reached her double chin and replaced her neck's former location. It was like she didn't have one now. She was wrong in her initial calculations about body density. She wasn't weighing 300 or 350 pounds. The real number was broader: 406 pounds.

She also realized that a single walkabout for the apartment meant a supreme effort for her. She went to the mirror walkway, then to the bathroom again - and finally to the kitchen. When the "Mega-Sized Tour" was completed, she was panting and gasping as if she had been running a marathon. "Ooof...You need to... Phew! ...To lose some weight, Jasmine," she said to himself. "But not now..."

She opened the fridge and extracted a two-pound ice cream cake. She had brought it a week ago, wishing to pig out on it, but she hadn't had the courage. Now it was the right time to amend some injustices of life. She took a spoon and a roll of kitchen handkerchiefs and headed to the living room's lounger. It cracked under her massive "four-hundreds," but she didn't care. She could buy another one if she wanted.

For the first time in years she felt no guilt about a non-stop binge. Soon the ice cream was gone, and Jasmine groaned satisfied. She moved her bulging hands to her belly area and started to rub the whole place. It felt so good. It appeared that her stomach capacity was still equal to her former frame. A spark of remorse crossed Jasmine's mind for an instant, but she immediately buried the feeling by concentrating in her new precious body and her rubbing procedure.

A bee stung her right in the ear. It was the phone ringing. Her heart jumped out of her chest. She was exactly 20 inches from the machine. "Damn...Now what?" She hesitated for a few seconds, and before the fourth ringing was complete she clutched the auricular. "Hello?"

"Hey, Jazz, it's Ra'shelle here..." The electronic voice of her best friend was on the end of the line.

"Rach, oh...Hi...What's up"

"Ready to kick ass, Executive! Friday night already! But...are you OK? You sound dizzy..." Ra'shelle inquired. It was obvious now that the pitch of Jasmine's voice sounded different from her soft pulpy throat instead of her usual neck.

"Oh, hum! Yeah, I'm fine. It's just that...You know...Maybe it's the ice cream I just ate. ...Hum," Jasmine assembled in her defense. Her voice sounded a lot more like a "circus-lady" pitch. She had been so amused with her body enlargement that she'd missed this fact. "Or maybe I'm getting a cold... and..."

"Oh, ...darling! Shit!" It was Friday night, a sacred day for both friends. "Tonight - the night of nights? Dammit! Club's over then. I'll be there in a sec. And what you were doing eating ice cream, anyway, you fat ass?"

"No, no, no... It's OK. Don't come up. I'll be just fine... You don't need-"

"Cut it out, you silly blob! I'm on my way... Are you thinking you might infect me with a cold or with your crappy mood? Can I get you anything, by the way?" Ra'shelle persisted. With this pitch issue Jasmine hadn't paid attention to the fact that of Ra'shelle was probably calling form her cellular phone. She usually called from the street. And there it was this final detail: it was Friday. It was impossible to avoid Ra'shelle's visit without a better excuse.

"No, no, no... Please! Don't come around. You don't need to... I'm in... I'm expecting this ...thing ..." Again, no better excuses came to her.

"Jazz, you suck at making excuses. Gimme five minutes, OK? Cut the whining... You'll tell me whatever story you want when I get there. See you..." she concluded, cutting the communication.

An expression of profound panic crossed Jasmine's obese features. She had to reverse her fatness... A cold shower! That was what the little package indicated. She tried to jump out of the couch in a hurry, but instead, she felt adhered to the leather of the sofa. Moving her ballooned body became a titanic enterprise once again. She finally stood up and moved her gigantic frame the fastest she could, reaching the bathroom.

The surface of the bathtub was all wet and somehow a little bit oily, too. She entered inside with the highest wariness. A fall and a knock-out would be disastrous - picture the news: "Obese lady trapped in her own bathroom rescued by firemen. She was find unconscious by her closest friend!" No, that wouldn't happen. "Yes, it was terrible -said her friend- I don't know how she let herself go like this. She was so slim." Jasmine opened the cold water faucet. The sound of the dry plumbing inside the wall was the only response.

"No!" She barked to the shower. The sprinkler looked like a mute microphone eight inches up from her breathless face. Frantic, she punched the ceramic several times, with the open palm of her hand. The entire arm shivered with every movement, and her mass of body fatness followed. "This can't be happening! Oh...God... No."

Then she remembered the cold water bottles in the fridge. She came out of the bathtub space again and walked to the kitchen, distressed with Ra'shelle's proximity at every step. "To be so fat isn't fun at all when the clock pushes you," she thought. Just one bottle and half. Jasmine hoped the water would be enough. The electric bell in the kitchen hissed twice, indicating Ra'shelle's presence at the entrance downstairs.

Jasmine picked up the telephone. "Rach, listen...I got to-"

"Don't bother, Jazz... Mrs. Coolidge is here opening the door. Coming up!" electronic Ra'shelle answered. Twenty seconds countdown. "Move along, silly!" Jasmine hurried herself. She ran to the front door and removed the lock, let it partially opened, then she came back running fast as possible to the walkway, carrying the couple of plastic bottles. Every part of her massive body was quivering and shaking. "Hey, there..." the visitor announced.

"Come in, Rach! I'm in the bathroom taking a shower!" Jasmine shouted through the walkway, outside of Ra'shelle viewpoint. Then she closed the bathroom door. "Get comfy, I'll be here for a while!" "Howdy, girl, don't let the door open again!" Ra'shelle whooped out loud. "Anyone can trespass... Even your best friend." She added, talking to herself and making a funny face. "Hey, don't stay an eternity there, blobby! And... Shit! Did you finish this ice cream bucket for yourself? It's huuuge!"

Inside the bathroom Jasmine started to bath herself with the first bottle. "No, bucket-head. I've been eating that ice cream for ages. I just finished eating the remains..." she lied. ("Come on! Work!") The water drifted across her swollen skin, but no dramatic change was evident. The first bottle ran out of liquid. She thought she was a little bit slender, but it wasn't enough... She had to regain her former body.

"What do you think about Dave?" That was Ra'shelle outside the door, in the walkway.

"D- Dave? What Dave?" The second bottled was opened.

"Don't play around. The guy from Ericsson. The other day...At the 'Queen of Spades,' Ra'shelle was talking about her latest conquest, a brown-haired guy they met at the mentioned club. He was with his buddy, Raoul. Remember? You didn't like him."

"Erm... Yeah, I remember Dave! So?" Jasmine said raising her voice. She was losing composure and nerves. The water thing wasn't working as fast or as good as she wanted. She calculated a loss of about 60 pounds... but she needed at least another 200 to reach her former weight. She bent down - her massive paunch in the way - in order to collect the remains of the water... In her hurry, she had forgotten to put the plug. There wasn't a trace of the water down there. She was helpless.

"Well, I've seen him again. Yesterday, after office, he was..." Ra'shelle said. "You hear me? I'm not gonna raise my voice. I don't want to publish this in the Neighbors Times... Hello! Are you OK?"

("No, I'm miles away from being OK.")

Jasmine seated in the edge of the bathtub, her 331 pounds pressing against the cold white ceramic. A tear dropped from one of her eyes. "No... I'm... I'm miles away from being OK, Rach..."

"I knew it! I was playing along, but I knew you weren't all right... Open the door and let me in!"

Chapter Four