Greetings from Fat City, USA

A novella by Melanie Bell

Chapters
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Chapter 3

"For entertainment, the citizens of Las Mujeres have an enormous number of choices. Besides three first-run movie theaters, we also boast an independent theater which each year plays host to the Big Top Festival, attended by some of the most prestigious names in Hollywood, as well as those first-time directors, actors and screenwriters who may themselves one day be among the top echelons of the entertainment world. This year's Festival, whose jury will be presided over by Lisha Goldrock, promises to be the biggest ever. In addition to movies, Las Mujeres is known around the world for its innovative Golden Portion Cooking School, many of whose graduates oversee the kitchens of the trendiest restaurants in New York and Los Angeles. But many of the best graduates have chosen to stay on in our city, providing our residents with some of the finest globe-spanning cuisine to be found anywhere." (From "Las Mujeres: An Appetite for the Good Life", published by the LM Chamber of Commerce.)

Somehow, I'd assumed that the strange events of that day would be confined to that day, but when I woke up the next morning to find that my swollen belly was crying out for food as if it hadn't eaten in a week, I knew that my universe had acquired a new order. Although I haven't keep eating at the monumental pace of that first day, I've been a pig of the first magnitude ever since this all started.
When I woke up yesterday morning, the scale read two-hundred and forty pounds, a gain of eighty pounds in just six weeks. The weight seems to have accumulated mainly in my boobs and my belly, although my thighs and my butt haven't exactly been neglected. Showing a total lack of any modesty, I've taken to wearing skin-tight hip-hugger jeans -- the more form-fitting, the better -- with midriff shirts which show off the soft overhang of my blubbery stomach to its fullest advantage. As I walk around Barbers Plaza on my lunch break -- two hours, minimum -- I stop in at every food store for a "little something", and I have to force myself to remember just how different things have become in the past month-and-a-half.
For one thing, my sex life has improved incredibly. I couldn't keep any secrets from Diana, and when I told her about my fling with Tonia, she was much more intrigued with my description of the girl than upset at my infidelity. When, at her insistence, I invited Tonia over for dinner, the two of them hit it off wonderfully, with Diana treating my secretary as a new project for fattening. Since Tonia and her daughter moved in, the three of us grownups have been spending nearly every night together in orgies of consumption, although -- I must confess -- the two of them far outclass me in their appetites and their capacities. In fact, Diana is fast approaching four-hundred pounds, while Tonia's weight -- and huge butt -- has grown even faster, leaving her just eight pounds shy of three-hundred. The two of them refuse to wear clothes around the house and so I am constantly aroused by the sight of all that sweet flesh swaying and jiggling wherever I look.
Our nights in bed are nothing short of nirvana, with the three of us driving each other to stratospheric heights of food-fueled ecstasy the likes of which none of us have ever before experienced in even our most mind-boggling fantasies. The orgasmic energy which travels from mouth to pussy to mouth to pussy to mouth to pussy is the closest thing to a perpetual motion machine that has ever existed in this universe. Sometimes, we can keep each other at climax for hours on end, stopping only when one of us must quell their hunger pangs with yet another massive meal.
And the sudden obesity and gluttony hasn't been confined to just me and my family and co-workers. In the past several weeks, the people of this city have become an army of appetites, gorging and feasting in public and private. Restaurants and supermarkets are swollen with customers twenty-four hours a day -- customers who know that, no matter how much they eat, there will be no charge. It's possible because the food isn't TOTALLY free: in return for the municipal all-you-can-eat buffet, the city has required that each of us citizens donate three hours a week of our time to work in the huge community farms.

"But, our entertainment choices aren't limited to cinema and cuisine. There is a long tradition of live performance in Las Mujeres, dating back to the days of the first white settlers, who built a large outdoor amphitheater here on the mesa to host the traveling circuses which were crossing the country in those days. In fact, the term "Big Top" as a synonym for circus may have originated here with the Big Top Falstaff Circus, which called Las Mujeres home from 1868 to 1871. That tradition of live entertainment lives on, with a continual stream of performances by Broadway touring companies, national music acts, dance troupes, symphony orchestras and -- still -- circuses, which appear in either our 3,000 seat Lillian Russell Auditorium, the Chubb Stadium, or the Botero State Park Outdoor Amphitheater." (From "Las Mujeres: An Appetite for the Good Life", published by the LM Chamber of Commerce.)

Monday was my day to work in the field, and I spent the entire beautiful afternoon in the avocado grove, gently picking the dark ripe fruits from the trees and placing them in baskets before bringing the full load back to the refrigerated fieldhouse. Of course, I ate quite a few of the buttery fruits as I worked -- a fact that was quite obvious to me as I got a glimpse of my reflection in the dark glass of the greenhouse building. My gorged stomach and my love handles were rolling over the tight waistband of my pants like a two-pound loaf of bread in a one-pound loaf pan. My boobs were swelling out of my too-tight bra, creating a deep dark cleavage that seemed to originate at my double chin. My upper arms were soft and flabby in my sleeveless t-shirt, my thick thighs were rubbing together so firmly that I was certain the friction could start a fire, and even my fingers seemed to have grown chubby as they gripped the luscious treasures in my basket.
Inside the building, a smorgasbord was laid out for the hungry workers, and men and women of all shapes and sizes were knotted about, fortifying themselves with excess calories before heading back out for some more work. When I was finished with my duties, I took the bus back to town, spreading out my big butt on the wide seats which used to hold two people each. It was a pretty trip, taking us from the fruit orchards on Triple Chin Mesa, through the pastures and verdant fields of corn and wheat on Big Bottom Mesa before finally bringing us to the downtown bus depot just off of F.F. Rebel Square.
As I waited for the bus to take me home, I thought about how, just a few weeks ago, I hated taking the bus, preferring to avoid strangers in the solitude of my car. But, now, the thought of squeezing my bulk behind the steering wheel and into the uncomfortable seat nearly made me recoil in horror. And secluding myself from the gentle tummy-rubbing greetings of the other people in town -- I wonder how I ever lived without the contact, without the appreciative backward glances from men who watch my blubbery butt jiggle beneath my jeans as I walk past them on the street, without the compliments from my friends for each new ounce gained.
Still, I seem to be the only one who can't forget that there was a time, not so long ago, when things were different. Occasionally, I'll get a glimpse of a television station that doesn't originate here in town, and I'll see the images of bony people cavorting around in skimpy outfits, as if they were attractive to anyone but other bony people. The mail still comes every day, and I find myself marveling at the emaciated women in the Queen's Secret catalogue, wondering how they ever allowed themselves to get that way. But, at moments like those, I'll suddenly remember that I was like that too, not so long ago.

"Sports enthusiasts aren't forgotten by the city of Las Mujeres. Some of the best skiing in the state is within an hour's drive of Big Top Mesa -- including the internationally known slopes of the 12,000-foot Mount Panza Grande. There is hiking in summer and cross-country skiing in winter among miles and miles of mountain trails; the trailheads of many of the most scenic paths start right in our own Botero State Park. Rock-climbing is another activity for which Las Mujeres is famous, since the steep walls of Big Top Mesa, once so essential for the defense of the peaceful Native American community which once called this mesa home, are a challenge for even the most accomplished climber. There are lakes and rivers within a short walk of the entrance to the park, and fishermen and swimmers alike make great use of the abundance of clean, fresh water." (From "Las Mujeres: An Appetite for the Good Life", published by the LM Chamber of Commerce.)

I had one of those moments yesterday morning, right after I weighed myself, right after Diana and Tonia left for work. As I finished off my eight-egg omelet and my seventh slice of French toast, I glanced at the calendar and noticed it was your birthday, Sis. I started wondering what I could get you and that's when I remembered your birthday last year, when I'd driven all the way to Denver to meet you. We'd spent that entire night partying with abandon, eating and drinking without reservation, and having ourselves a glorious time. When we awoke in our hotel room the next morning, though, both bloated and nauseous from the night's excesses, we both swore a solemn oath that we were changing our ways and that for your next birthday, we were both going to be thin and therefore, healthy and happy.
Well, I wasn't thin, but I was healthier and happier than I'd ever been. There was some problem with the phone when I tried to call you, but I decided that I'd drive the seven hours to your place anyway, just to surprise you. I left Diana and Tonia a note, packed a large bag of provisions, then squeezed myself into the car. It didn't want to start right away, but after a couple of tries, I got it fired up, noticing that the gas gauge was almost on "E". Strangely, the gas stations along T.R. Street all seemed to be closed, but I figured I had enough fuel to get me to the truck stop along Chubb Highway. I drove along the Mesa Ridge Road, getting a glimpse of the base camp for the archaeological dig in the caves, and thinking about that entire culture that had disappeared and how it had worshipped and fed the enormous women of the tribe.
I drove slowly, feeding myself from my bag of provisions and passing very few cars. When I had just finished the last sandwich in my bag, the engine gave a sudden sputter, then stalled completely, leaving me to steer the car into the shoulder. Although I had traveled only ten or twelve miles, the road seemed totally still and deserted, as if no one had passed by there recently. I got out of the car and started to walk back the way I came, then realized that I was probably closer to the truck stop than I was to home.
After walking for nearly a half-hour without seeing another soul, I was starting to get very nervous and somewhat hungry. After another fifteen minutes, I was scared and starving and ready to cry. That's when I heard the rumble of a truck engine; I quickly unbuttoned the top button of my jeans, letting the whole of my belly roll out in as sexy and exposed a fashion as I could. Then I stood out in the middle of the road with my thumb out, willing the driver to stop and save me. And stop he did, to my immense relief.
I heaved myself up into the cab of the 18-wheeler and found myself sitting next to one of the largest human beings I have ever seen in my life. I'm not very good with guessing weights, but if I were forced to guess, I would estimate that this man must've been way more than half a ton. His stomach was so enormous that he'd cut off the bottom half of his steering wheel just to get himself into the seat. His quintuple chins were resting on his massive boobs, which were flopped on either side of his mountainous stomach which was rolled out on his tree-trunk thighs almost as far as his knees. I reached over and touched the white softness of his monstrous belly in greeting and he gently patted my -- comparatively -- tiny tummy in reply.
"Seen your car up there just now -- didn't see it on the way up this morning -- and figured someone was broke down. Didn't figure I'd find such a pretty little lady, though. My eyes practically bugged out of my head when I saw that round little belly just hanging out as pretty as you please. You walked a pretty far piece, so I bet you're starving!" I told him I was and he pointed to the full size refrigerator that took up most of the sleeping space behind the cab. "Help yourself," he said, and I did, ravenously devouring two of the foot-long heroes stacked up in the fridge like logs on a woodpile.
When I was no longer blind with hunger, I managed to ask him his name. "Jim Brady, but people just call me Mountain," he said. "I been running freight for the supermarket in town for years, although lately, my box is mostly filled with just dry goods and packaged foods on account of all the free food in town. So, lately I been running food down to the truck stop, too." He smiled and winked, saying, "Gives me an excuse, cause I got a thing going with Lily down at the stop -- you know Lily?" My mouth was full with a big hunk of sandwich, so I just shook my head no. "She's a big girl. About the only girl I ever met didn't look like a twig next to me. And boy can she cook! Better hold on to some of your appetite, cause she's sure to wanna feed a skinny little thing like you!"

"Las Mujeres abounds in history, too. One of the most exciting developments to occur in Las Mujeres over the past several months is the discovery, by an archaeological team from the College, of the existence of well-preserved ruins from a native culture that occupied the area nearly four-thousand years ago. The ruins, deep in one of the caves that riddle the face of the mesa, were discovered by a rock-climber who took shelter in the cave to avoid a thunderstorm. On the walls of the cave, she noticed strange markings which seemed too mannered to be natural, and on her return to the city brought it to the attention of the College. What they discovered there -- and are still discovering -- were depictions of the rites and rituals of a matriarchal culture unlike any culture described in the Americas." (From "Las Mujeres: An Appetite for the Good Life", published by the LM Chamber of Commerce.)

I spent the next few minutes of the ride thinking about how huge a woman would have to be to stand up next to this mountainous man, and when we pulled up, I didn't have long to wait to see her in the flesh. While Mountain began heaving his massive bulk out of the cab of the truck, Lily came waddling out of the building to greet him. She was wearing a loose white dress that looked as if it were once a parachute, and the breeze kept blowing it against her body, revealing bulges and curves that looked too enormous to be real. She was easily twice Diana's size, with shining coppery hair, a radiant smile and an obvious affection for Mountain. Watching the two of them hug was quite a sight -- and quite an effort for the two of them. Their monstrous stomachs would have kept them nearly six feet apart if they approached head-on, so they sort of sidled next to one another, overlapping their gigantic breasts, each managing to put one thick arm on the other's shoulder.
Mountain introduced me, and when I went up to Lily to give her the tummy-pat we've been using for a greeting back in town, she laughed at my confusion over the location of her belly. "You can just pat anywhere," she said, "because I think my belly is down about my knees!" She shook her extra-wide hips from side to side and I could see, sure enough, the outline of something big moving around at shin-level beneath the white dress. Then, she patted my belly with her fat and puffy hand, declaring, "I don't think I've been that skinny since I was eight years old. It's a shame, but I see potential here. C'mon inside and let me see what I can do to put some meat on you!"
Just then, two boys came running out of the truck stop building and plowed right into Mountain, hugging him. The force of their forward motion was mostly absorbed in the massive cushioning of his stomach, but he still needed to take a step backwards to keep his balance; all I could think about was: if he fell down, how would we ever get him back up? He didn't seem upset, though, just happy to see the boys. They were about nine and twelve years old, but neither one of them weighed less than two hundred pounds; they were shirtless and the smooth rolls of blubber of their swollen bellies seemed practically alive beneath their soft childhood skin. "R.B. and Lawrence!" Lily yelled. "You almost knocked Mountain over! Now cut it out and go unload the truck or there'll be no dessert for you!"
"They're just playing," Mountain said. "Don't be so hard on them."
"When you decide to stick around here full-time, then you tell me how to raise them," Lily said. "Until then, you're not really their father. Now are we going inside or are we gonna stand here all day and starve?"
Inside, the truck stop had ceased looking like a public space and resembled a large living room, with several gigantic round tables, a couple of couches, a big-screen TV and a brilliantly lit juke-box. What distinguished it from a living space, however, was the industrial kitchen that opened onto the room -- a kitchen that was the source of wonderful warm aromas that instantly set my tummy rumbling. Of course, the sound my stomach made was drowned out by the throbbing growls that were emanating from Lily's and Mountains depths.