By Jay Tee
Part 3: The Big Apple
4 a.m.: the night is still young - but Patty is completely dead, seated at the bottom of a building's steps, the music still echoing inside her dyed violet head. Her friend Kim is still wired: perhaps from the music, perhaps the substances. Both girls are dressed in darkish colors and have the kind of looks you expect from two queens of the night. Kim can't stop moving her tiny hips with the savage rhythm of a song in her personal MP3 player.
“Girl, you're really speedy!” Patty says. She herself is covered in perspiration. It isn't really a hot night, but her body is devastated. Patty is over 135 pounds, which was almost enough for the 5'7'' tall woman she is. Her frame is bigger than Kim's, whose frail 112 pounds are just an excuse to cover a pack of bones with some muscles and skin. She's the same height as Patty but more than twenty pounds lighter.
New York City can be a noisy place most of the time. Somehow, though, it's really quiet - like the eye of the storm. It's exactly 4:07 when they feel it.
“Whoa! What's that? It feels like… blubbers of electricity under my skin…” Patty grins. Kim's eyes open wide, and she suddenly stops dancing. They look to each other.
“Is that a real tummy you got there, Kim?”
“Damn! Can't believe it! You're kinda plump tonight, dear! I didn't noticed till now.”
“Shit! Your belly!” Patty screams.
“Oh my god, your face is filling out, Patty!”
The belt containing Kim's waist pops off in the next second. Patty stands to discover her body growing round beneath her transparent long vest. Between their screaming and moaning, their dark clothes rip apart and their nude bodies are unveiled.
Kim struggles as she reaches to recover her formerly fitting rags. Her top, ripped down the middle, is luckily large enough to cover one of her boobs. She can barely wrap her black belt around her upper arm, so huge it is.
Patty's bumping rear end is enormous. She grabs herself, finding nothing but pure fatness. All of her is gigantic and jiggles from head to toe with every movement she makes. Even the tattoo she has in her abdomen is completely distorted: the one- inch little bunny is now a super-sized kangaroo, spread five inches across her bulging, pallid belly.
Patty is 350 pounds heavier than she'd been three minutes ago: 485 pounds of hulking flesh in total. Kim easily reaches 420 pounds. Both girls are whining and exchanging astonished looks between their own inflated bodies.
They aren't alone.
The entire population of Manhattan Island has tripled its weight in the same moment… Millions of pounds have become billions. Children, men, women, everyone in New York have doubled their size or more. Most of them are in bed; crushed down over the sudden weight gain.
It's almost 4:30 in the morning.
Within two hours, the media is able to cover the breaking news. City reporters have to go before the cameras dressed in nothing but sheets and blankets. Throughout the city, chaos and stoutness abounds.
Once overweight people are now immobile. Some emergency calls concern cases of super fat persons who've been trapped in their homes. 35 year-old and former 450 pounds Laura Jennings is practically fastened to the ground with her present 1,425 pounds. George Tanson, 48 years old and 520 pounds is crushing his coach with an astonishing weight of 2,180 pounds. Hundreds of severe cases flood the 911 lines and obstruct telephone numbers - a rough morning in the biggest apple ever.
“Nothing won't be the same… anymore.”
Jennifer Pearson is alone, poorly illuminated by a huge eight monitor wall-screen. She smiles at every image dancing in front her eyes. CNN is on the entire wall, displaying fat people all round New York. She rejoices with every double-chinned face, with every hump of overblown belly flesh jiggling out. Holding a remote with her right hand and snapping cheese chips from a snack tray with her left, she enjoys both acts as if they were the last true pleasures on Earth.
“If they only knew that they were responsible, too.” Annabelle enters the dim room.
“Yeah, Belly… What a shock it would be!” Jennifer says with her mouth full. A small piece of cheese falls into Jenn's brassiere. “Oh, look at my silk bra! It was brand new!” Both girls laugh loud and clear. “Please, explain once again the spreading method… I didn't understand the satellite thing.”
“We've been irradiating the city from the GlobalTech satellite - without their knowledge, of course. Transmitting our special wave through their broadcasting frequencies we've been able to set the target over New York and produce a full-length carrier beam,” Annabelle explains.
“So, it wasn't only through TV screens, uh?”
“In fact, it was both… See, the X-Element wave bathed the entire island, but it encountered a barrier in the walls and roofs. For those who weren't outside to get irradiated then, we've sent a low range ray through the TV signal. Minimum amounts of X-Element should have an effect on even the most highly shielded people.”
“TV makes you fat… That's a fact! Ha ha!” Jennifer concludes.
“I think it's working on you, Jenn… That suit seems to be tighter than ever…” Annabelle grins to her “slightly” thinner colleague. Jennifer nods and picks the small cheese chip from her breast's avoirdupois, taking it back to her mouth. “You're right, Belly… Oh, yeah… Munch… Mmm… But lemme tell ya… Mmm… That's not from the TV but these delicious snacks!”
“You weighed 220 pounds by the end of last month, didn't you?” Annabelle asks, a smile expanding her features.
“No more, sister… Not me… Wrong number. It's 255 according with my last review.” The red-haired proudly says. She eats the last of the chips and turns off the wall-screen. “Let's go. Lots to do.”
Both girls transport their immense bodies to the main room, where an army of chubby persons are waiting their command. The place recalls Cape Kennedy's launching center: computers fill the room. An enormous screen is at the front with a world map traced in green lines; on it, red lines describe satellite orbits. There are hundreds of yellow dots all over the world except for one in New York, which is already orange and blinking.
A big brunette in a military outfit is standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Jennifer and Annabelle. “Good evening, general sisters. We're waiting for your orders,” she says.
“What's our next target?” Jennifer asks.
“What's your pick, general sister?”
“You know I have nothing against Democrats - but this is necessary to say, hey, we have control now… My pick is Washington DC. And make sure the First Lady Mrs. Crimpton is at home with her husband, the President…” Jennifer decides.
“All right, proceeding.”