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Old 10-16-2013, 02:45 AM   #1
AtlasD
 
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AtlasD can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokesAtlasD can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes
Default The Magistrate- Part One

The Magistrate
By AtlasD

Part One - Paradise

Haley

The airplane was nearly silent except for the noise of its engines as I flipped page after page….

Noronga is an archipelago of some 300 islands scattered over some 250,000 square miles of ocean roughly 800 miles northeast of Australia.
A former French colony, Noronga declared independence in 1958 while France was preoccupied with yet another crisis in her colony of Algeria. Off the byway of most Pacific tourist destinations, it led a leisurely economy of mostly local commerce until oil was discovered beneath its territorial waters in 1977. The influx of foreign workers touched off a major cultural and political crisis 10 years later. Noronga then confined oil workers to restricted areas of the main island, expelled a number of foreigners and began investing heavily in its own infrastructure, including water and electrical systems. Automobiles were severely restricted on the main island and banned altogether in the rest of the archipelago except for government emergency vehicles.. As technology has developed, Noronga has accepted selected elements, heavily supplanting its oil fired electrical power plant with wind and solar. Today 73% of Noronga’s electricity comes from non-fossil fuel sources. However, even today, Noronga has no cell service except for emergencies, internet access is extremely limited, western television shows and fashion magazines are banned as is most western media content.
The Norogolese, like many South Pacific peoples, are known for their robust stature, and have a different perspective than the United States on what constitutes beauty. They take this aspect of their culture very seriously, and vigorously enforce their local laws that protect the integrity of their culture….


God this is boring, I thought. I looked over at Jerry who had reclined his seat and was sleeping. I never could sleep well on airplanes, and this flight from San Diego to Sydney was going to be a killer.

I turned back to the “Noronga Cultural Handbook for Visiting Foreign Employees and Spouses” supplied by Jerry’s employer about our ultimate destination.
The Norongalese legal system consists of three magistrates, one stationed permanently on the main island of Noronga, the remaining two travel a circuit in the islands of the archipelago. There is no appeal process; judgments can be overturned only by act of the Norongalese parliament, which rarely does so. In addition to criminal and civil matters, the Norongalese magistrates also hear cases that involve infractions of Noronga's cultural integrity laws, which are unique among the Pacific islands. The magistrates have extremely wide discretion in rules of evidence as well as sentencing…. Blah, blah, blah. I tucked the spiral binder back into the seat pocket, closed my eyes and somehow managed to drift off.

Jeremiah


Haley and I first met a mutual friend’s pool party in Houston. I was attracted to her eyes, her smile, and her sense of adventure. We hit it off. We discovered we had a lot in common- we were both only children and had both lost our parents- mine to an auto accident, Haley’s parents were killed when a tornado leveled their home in the Texas panhandle while Haley was away at college.

I had just started working as a geologist for an oil company prospecting in the Gulf and had been doing it for three years when what looked like a big break came. An American-Australian oil consortium was checking into oil leases in the South Pacific nation of Noronga, and wanted a marine geologist to assist in the surveys. It would mean a lot of time at sea- three months out, alternated with one month on Noronga, but housing, health care, and all supplies were on the company’s ticket. When I broke the news to Haley she was as excited as I was -a tropical paradise, sandy beaches, warm surf. There was practically nothing tying us to the United States, and we were both waiting for an opportunity to come our way.

We had to go through a “pre-deployment” physical; the company did not want employees or spouses to develop issues with undiagnosed medical problems after they had settled in Noronga. Transport to and from Noronga was intermittent and ad hoc, usually going to Sydney and finding which island hopping charter services would get you close. Our itinerary- subject to change at the whims of weather- was Houston to San Diego to Sydney, then east again to Tahiti, and if luck and timing were in our favor, a supply ship back west to Noronga.

Haley


The plumpish woman doctor ran through findings with me. Blood pressure good, pulse good, heart strong, bloodwork normal, height 5 feet 7 inches, weight 132 pounds, BMI 20.7, outstanding. Whatever you are doing keep doing it. It seems like most young ladies I see here are averaging around 165-170. I eyed the doctor who was a little on the heavy side. “Yes” she said smiling, “I guess you could say I’m above average.” I laughed lightly and said, “Well that’s why you are a doctor”.

Still smiling she said, “Have a safe trip Hon. It sounds wonderful.”

After we landed in Sydney, we waited 5 days for a charter flight going to Tahiti, then transferred to a supply ship to Noronga and after 10 days at sea we finally arrived.

As we disembarked I saw an Australian merchant marine at the bottom of the gangway, waiting to board. His uniform seemed awfully snug, and a pudgy roll of fat peeked out from the bottom of his shirt and over his belt.
“Hey Tommy, looks like you had a little run in with the law, eh?” shouted a sailor from the ship’s deck.

“Two fiver’s and came awful close to having a tenner slapped on top of all that. That’s what happens when you get drinking and express your opinion of what the local ladies look like. Anybody that comes here needs to have their mouth zipped and an elastic waistband in their pants.”

“Best be careful lad- you’re not off this island yet.”

What the hell was that about I wondered. Well there was no time to find out; Jerry was asking me to help check through our baggage to make sure we had everything. Then he loaded it all into an electric golf cart, and we drove off through narrow palm lined lanes toward our new quarters.

“What do you think?” Jeremy asked. ”It certainly looks exotic.”

“The locals certainly seem well fed.” I said. All the locals-male and female, young and old were definitely on the heavy side.

“That’s how they are Hon”, said Jerry, “Some of its genetic, some of its cultural, and some of its diet.”

“Well, whatever, the food here must be fantastic.”

“Did you read through the information packet?”

“Most of it Jerry, it was pretty dry stuff.”

I didn’t tell Jerry I had left it on the plane in Sydney.

Our new home was a small but cheerful cottage painted a light pastel blue outside. Inside was open concept, bright and airy. Large windows let in the cooling ocean breeze. There was a patio out back where the shower was located behind a privacy screen of woven bamboo. There was also a small tiki hut containing a tea table and four chairs. Low coral stone walls surrounded the property, and were covered with bright tropical blooms. It sure did feel like paradise. But…

Rain. Three days of rain, and no letup in sight. Some tropical paradise I thought. Jerry was at the office working out the logistics for the upcoming survey. I had gone through two novels and most of a third, and was staring out at the dripping palm fronds when there was a knock and an “allo-oh” at the front door of our cottage. When I opened it, there was a large Norogolese woman, standing under a full size canary yellow umbrella that was barely big enough to provide cover for her hefty frame. She was wearing a full length, generously cut and loose fitting white beach style sarong patterned with bright red hibiscus flowers. “Bonjour,” she said cheerily, “I am your neighbor, Maba Eloise. “May I invite you for a cup of tea?”

I was a coffee drinker- in fact I had already complained to Jerry about how impossible it was to get a decent cup around here. But I was so bored I was more than happy to take up Eloise’s invitation. I grabbed my umbrella- big as hers was, it was not big enough to protect her and me- and followed her as she slowly but gracefully waddled next door. Instead of going into her cottage, we went through the gate to her back patio where a table and chairs were waiting under her tiki hut shelter. A nearby table held a small propane stove on which a huge kettle was steaming.

“Thank you for inviting me Maba Eloise” I said, “I was getting so bored-“

“Please call me El,” she replied. “Nobody calls me Maba Eloise except small children.” She produced two cups with matching saucers, placed a tea ball in each and poured. As the tea steeped in our cups, she reached to a small shelf and put a plate of what appeared to be shortbreads and a creamer containing a pale milky fluid.

I am not a tea drinker, and my face must have showed it after my first sip. “Oh, try this cheri-” El said as she pushed over the creamer. I poured some into my tea and sipped- it was coconut milk! I added more- much better.
“Have a shortbread cheri. Oh you foreign girls are all so thin! You need to eat more….”

I learned her husband Daniel made fish nets the traditional way from palm fiber, a craft that had nearly been lost but Daniel had preserved through the teachings of an elder uncle who had since passed. “We nearly lost so much of who we were.” said El. I babbled excitedly about our plans, that after Jerry had done his field work here he would go back to Houston and work up the corporate ladder.

“Oh cheri!”, she laughed. For a big woman she had a delicate tinkling laugh that was extremely charming. “Your head is so stuck in the future, you are not even living the present! We have a beautiful island here. Get to know it, let it become part of you.”

I asked El about the cultural troubles. “Oh it was bad, all these foreigners brought in so many problems. Their food made us sick with diabetes and other ailments; there were problems with alcoholism, drugs, venereal disease- so many bad things. Finally our government said enough. Because of the oil we have enough money now, the government sees that we all have a cottage, medical care, enough to eat. No one really needs to work in Noronga because of the oil money, but most do. Many went back to the traditional ways of fishing, net making, making boats, raising taro, harvesting cocoanuts. Going back to our traditions solved so many of the problems with the alcohol, and our traditional diet made our people healthy again. All the magazines and TV shows and movies- they were making our young people forget who we were, and what we valued. We accepted some things- electricity, running water, medicine. But we value the traditional ways also.” El went on to talk about her two young grandchildren, and the afternoon passed pleasantly and quickly.
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Old 10-16-2013, 03:09 AM   #2
AtlasD
 
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Default The Magistrate-Part Two

Part Two-Trouble in Paradise

Two weeks later I decided to straighten out things a bit while Jerry was prepping for his first shift at sea. As I was putting out travel cases into the closet I noticed a magazine tucked in the pocket of one of them. It was an American health and fashion mag I picked up in Sydney for the last leg of our journey but I had forgotten about it. Later, in the little park just outside the market square I found a shady bench, pulled it out of my bag and began flipping through it.

A young Norongalese girl came up to me asking, “What are you reading?” I showed her the photos of the glam models. “Aren’t they pretty I said? Don’t you want to be pretty like that when you grow up?” The little girl said,” I don’t think they are very pretty. They look like they are sick. When I grow up I want to be pretty like my mommy.” She looked past me behind the bench.

I turned to see a typically heavyset Norogalese woman glaring at me and motioning for her daughter to come back to her. Why is she so upset I wondered? Everybody usually seemed so friendly and casual here. Maybe she doesn’t want her daughter talking to foreigners?

Ten minutes later a uniformed constable came to the park bench and said “Miss? Could I see this please?” he said pointing to the magazine. He scanned it briefly. “Did you show this to a young girl?” he inquired.

“Yes- is there a problem?” I said. I couldn’t figure this out- it wasn’t like it was a porn magazine or anything like that.

The constable said “This is unfortunate, especially as she is at an impressionable age. I am afraid I will have to file a charge against you.” He wrote out a summons, and handed it to me. I scanned it quickly. “Violation of cultural norms”, said the constable “Please present at court at the appointed time. The magistrate will be most upset if you do not. Good day. “

When Jeremy came ashore we went back at our cottage and examined the summons which listed the charge: “Violation of culture norms of the people of Norongo”, and a date and time. We went to the local advocate’s office and asked him to explain what trouble we were in.

“The government takes these charges very seriously.” he said. “If this is true the penalty is solely in the discretion of the magistrate.”
We asked if he could be more specific. “I really cannot” he said. “The magistrate has a wide range of discretion. Where you are new here and this is a first offense I am hopeful he will take this into consideration.”

Court day. We watched as the magistrate flipped expressionlessly through the magazine. “Typical”, he finally muttered, and turned it back over to the bailiff. “Adversely influencing the young people of our country is a grave matter.” intoned the magistrate. “But as you are new and not accustomed to our ways, I am inclined toward leniency. 10 kilos to be maintained for one year. See enforcement after the hearing.”

We looked at each other. 10 kilos for one year- what does this mean? When court recessed, we asked the advocate.

“It means Mrs. Brockway you are to gain 10 kilos- about 22 pounds- and keep it on for a year.”

“That’s the craziest thing I ever heard of” Jerry and I said at the same time.

“You are not in the United States” said the advocate. “This is a different country with different laws. You cannot change that.”

“What happens now?” I asked.

“You will report to enforcement. Enforcement will visit you periodically, and bring what is needed to carry out the sentence. Any effort you may on your own behalf will make it easier.”

“And if she refuses? asked Jerry.

“Then she will be taken to the Facility- this may involve injections or even tube feeding. You will want to avoid this. You will be given a tour of the Facility and then you can decide if you wish to comply. Also remember the sentence was to maintain the additional 22 pounds for one year. Enforcement will check on this. Also, above all, no cheating.”

The Facility was not what we expected. Instead of grim prison walls, barbed wire and watchtowers, there was a small compound surround by a high wrought iron fence. It looked like a small resort hotel- which it had been until the Norongalese kicked the tourists out. Inside the rooms were bright and cheerful, the staff friendly and polite. There were wall posters everywhere of large women dressed in shorts and tank tops, swimsuits. All were swimming, walking on the beach, tossing beach balls, having fun. “There are two classes of admittees” said the head warden. “Those who cooperate can stay here if they wish to start completion of sentence. There is also a home compliance program. In both situations there is an orientation about how to gain weight healthfully and at a pace the body can tolerate. Enforcement stops by periodically to bring the requisite nutritional foods and to monitor compliance. We encourage gaining moderately-about five pounds per month, which is a rate that can be accomplished without need for bingeing.”

“And those who do not cooperate?” asked Jerry. “Come with me.” said the warden. We went back inside the facility, down a corridor and to a steel door with wired glass that looked more appropriate for a prison environment. The warden unlocked the door; we went in and heard the booming slam of the door behind us. Yet the room inside was also bright and cheerful- but the windows had iron bars. We followed the warden into another room where a recliner sat, along with tables, a television and a DVD player. All looked benign except the recliner had leather wrist and ankle restraints. The warden opened a cabinet where an assortment of IV bags, needles and tubes were stored. “The non-cooperatives come here.” he said. “Generally they do not stay long, as they elect to cooperate.”

I looked at the cabinet full of syringes and needles, then at the restraints and suppressed a shiver. “I’m not coming in here Jerry.” I turned to the warden. “Put me down for cooperation. Twenty two pounds for a year. I don’t like it, but I guess I’ll have to live with it.”

Jerry still had a couple months before he went to sea, and I began working on compliance with my sentence. Every morning I weighed myself to monitor my progress, and every day I looked myself over in the full length mirror in our bedroom. I was dismayed as the pounds began adding up. My defined abdominals vanished; arms and legs lost their tone. Soft flab began to puddle around the waistband of my shorts, and my bikinis were becoming snug. I soldiered on- what else could I do? The day Jeremy was to ship out for his first three month stint I had gained 14 pounds, and still had another 8 to go.

Jeremiah

I was shipping out for my first stint at sea and was putting some last minute items in my duffle. Haley was rummaging around her clothes looking for something to wear before we went dockside. She had gained 14 pounds, and her clothing choices were dwindling. “Nothing fits anymore!” she moaned. Finally she pulled out a pair of white shorts. We had bought them in the States for this trip. They were generously cut so as to be cool and comfortable- in fact Haley had initially complained they looked too baggy. But when Haley had last worn them two weeks ago they were getting snug. Haley fished them out of her dresser, pulled them up to her hips and stopped. She tugged and shrugged them over her hips.

“There, I said, they still fit.”

“I don’t have them buttoned yet silly.” She sucked in her tummy and struggled to button the waist. After two tries she managed it, then tugged up the zipper. Finally she relaxed, and soft flesh puddled around the waistband- a muffin top. We used to joke about the muffin tops we saw back in the states- but Haley had her very own muffin top now.
“Oh my god.” she said, “Look at how fat I am.”

“You look terrific.” I said. I meant it. Those tight shorts with that little roll of pudge puddling around the waist were getting me aroused.

“God, I feel so FAT.” Haley moaned.

“Look,” I said “-you are NOT fat- I was able to look up some stuff on the sly at the office. According to the BMI charts you are not even overweight. Back home probably no one would even notice.” I lied. I was willing to bet her so-called friends would pick up on it in a heartbeat and have plenty to say about it. But not to her face. “Wear what you want, even a bikini if you want to. No one is going to give you a hard time around here- in fact you are still stick thin compared to the locals.”

Haley began poking around for a blouse, then decided to wear one of my t-shirts so she could cover the pudge brimming over the waist band.
As we said our goodbyes dockside, I reached under her t-shirt and fondled soft love handles. Haley had always been so firm before. The softness was novel, and to be honest it felt good. “You feel really nice.” I said.
“Liar” she said, pulling my hands from the soft flesh that puddled over her waistband. “You’re going to miss your boat.”

“I don’t care. Those extra pounds feel nice on you.”

“Oh God Jerry, 146 pounds! I feel so huge. I don’t want to gain another ounce.”

“You still have another 8 pounds to go Hon.”

“I know, but I don’t want to stay like this. When I came here I planned on wearing my bikini and soaking up the sun. Nothing fits anymore, I need all new clothes.”

“Hell, wear your bikini- all the locals do. You look great. I’ll miss you. Just stay out of trouble, OK?”

I started up the gangplank and turned. The t-shirt may have concealed Haley’s muffin top, but not the skin tightness of those shorts on her bottom. Haley looked like she had been poured into them. She looked good. She turned and waved as the gangway was taken away. The whistle blew, and then the ship slowly backed from the pier.

All my time at sea I was haunted by how Haley looked in those tight white shorts, and how sexy she looked and how nice she felt. Her hips had been so hard and bony before- now there were actually some curves instead of angles. Haley would look good no matter what the scale said.

Haley

A week after Jerry had gone to sea again I tugged and pulled the white shorts on and stood in front of the mirror, turned front and back. I looked at the pudge rolling over the waistband, the crease in my midriff that wasn’t there before. I was amazed the button didn’t pop off. How can Jerry possibly find me attractive? I unbuttoned the shorts and watched as the pressure from my new little tummy unzipped them of their own accord. At least I could breathe again. I pulled them off and looked at them. Someday I said. After I gain this weight and hold it for a year, I’m dropping it. I will fit into these again come hell or high water.

Haley. Three weeks later.


68.2 kilos. 150 pounds. I had never been this heavy. Ever. The heaviest I had ever been was 141 pounds my freshman year in college, and then I immediately worked on dropping those nine extra pounds. I stood before the mirror, wearing a brassier and a pair of sweat pants- nothing else I had would fit now, not even the white shorts. Well, to hell with this. I’ll be damned if I will gain another ounce. And I came up with a plan. That afternoon I went to the fisherman’s market and got four ½ kilo fishing weights.

One week later enforcement came by for weigh in. I ran into the bathroom, put on a loose t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants, cinched the drawstring tight and stuffed the lead fishing weights in the pockets . I stepped on the scale. 70.2 kilos, 154.4 pounds. When the enforcement officers came inside I stepped on the scale again. The enforcement officers- two large women- looked at each other, then at their chart. The first said “According to the records Mrs. Brockway, when you were last weighed two weeks ago you weighed 67.7 kilos- after gaining at a rate of about 2 .5 kilos a month, how is it you have gained 2.5 kilos in two weeks?” The other said “Remove your clothes please.” And of course they found the weights.

Jeremiah

Haley was distraught when I spoke to Haley on the ship’s radio. More trouble- at weigh in they had caught her with 2 kilos of weights concealed on her person. Haley had gotten another summons to go before the magistrate.

“You only had another 4 pounds to go.” I said.

“I know, I know” Haley whined-“I just couldn’t gain any more. Everything was getting tight, nothing fits me anymore, the white shorts- even they won’t fit. I was hoping I could fool them into thinking I had gained the whole 22 pounds and they would go away. What’s going to happen now?”

Haley


What happened was the magistrate who doubled the original penalty. I didn’t even bother with the advocate. I had been caught cheating red-handed, what could the advocate do? The magistrate’s tone was harsh. “Evidently you do not take our laws seriously. I was quite lenient when you first came before me, because you were new to our country. I am inclined to impose an additional 20 kilos… (oh my god, an additional 44 pounds). But…. I am going to give you another chance to comply with a slightly lower sentence. The original sentence is voided he said. The new sentence for violation of probation is an additional 10 kilos plus your original 10 kilo sentence- 20 kilos total- to be maintained for one year.”

I did the math quickly in my head. I started all this weighing 60 kilos. Original sentence 10 kilos, plus an additional 10 for cheating- total, 20 additional kilos. That means I would weigh 80 kilos- 176 pounds- and I would have to keep it for one year. And all this started with a mere 22 pound weight gain sentence!

“No cheating this time.” Jerry said when he got back from sea. “Otherwise who knows what the magistrate might do to you.”

“But Jerry- every time I look in the mirror…”

“Haley, listen. I love you. You will always be beautiful to me. I loved the way you felt at 132, I love the way you feel now and I will love you at 176. I will always love you, no matter what. But please no more games with these people. It’s their country, and we have to respect their ways, whether we agree with them or not. Serve the sentence, no tricks and let’s move on. Who knows what will happen if you end up in front of the magistrate again.”

Jerry pulled a beach towel out of the closet and tacked it over the full length mirror on the closet door. “Don’t take it off.” he said. “And when you use the scale to check your progress, it’s only a number- that’s all. You can get through this if you don’t psych yourself out- ok?”

Haley

Jerry may have covered the mirror, but I could tell things were “progressing” even if I did not check the scale. I struggled to even get my sweat pants over my bottom and hips. Thankfully the new and larger clothes I ordered arrived from Australia, but over time these went from comfortably loose to comfortable, from comfortable to snug, from snug to tight, from tight to too tight, and finally from too tight to “forget about it”. I could feel how my tummy was growing as I tried to bend over and felt it restrict my motion. The crease under my little tum became a fold as my tummy grew into a little belly. All the chairs and benches in Noronga were generously sized, but even so I could sense the additional real estate my bottom and hips took up when I sat. And now when I walked parts of me would jiggle that I never knew existed.

Jeremiah

Out to sea again, three months, then back home. Haley greeted me at the front door, dressed in loose lightweight long pants with a drawstring, and a loose fitting blouse. I gave her a big squeeze, and marveled at new softness and curves.

Then another stint at sea, and when I came back three months later, she had managed to add a little more than six kilos of the new additional 10 kilo sentence, which brought weight to a little over 168. Haley had ordered some larger clothes, but even these were getting sexily snug on her.

As she continued to gain, she felt better and better in my arms. I loved the softness, the new valleys, the incredibly arousing sensation I got when I cradled the little tummy bulge just above her pubic area, the soft puddles of flesh just above her hips, the little wiggles when she walked. I told her so, but could not convince her that I truly meant it and was not just trying to make her feel better. “I’m fat” she would keep saying, “and getting fatter”.

Haley. Two months later.

Jerry was away at sea. I stepped of the scale. 80 kilos, 176 pounds, my original 60 kilos plus the 20 kilos I had managed to rack up in sentencing. Then I looked at the towel covering the mirror. Well, I’m at goal, I might as well see. I found a little tack hammer, and used the claw end to remove the brads Jerry had used to hang the towel. Then I stepped back. At least it’s not all belly I thought. I finally had some cleavage, but it was not all top heavy like I have seen in some women. It seemed distributed fairly proportional overall, with slightly more settling in my hips, bottom and thighs. I pulled the white shorts out of the dresser and stood before the mirror. I might have been able to shrug and tug my way into them at 148 pounds I thought, but there’s no way I could do that now. Not over these hips. Would I ever be able to get into them again? Trying to lose 22 pounds is challenge enough, but now I would have to lose 44. And Jerry was right, I would be smart to add at least another 2 kilos as a buffer. And I couldn’t start to lose any weight until a year had passed. Would I get used to the weight, and not even want to try?

I didn’t know.

Now I was completely out of clothes. I had been over optimistic the last time I had ordered some from Australia, and they had stopped fitting about 12 pounds ago. Nothing I had would fit no matter how I tugged and sucked in my tummy. I had ordered some larger sizes but they could be weeks getting here. This island was so strange; there was no shortage of bikini tops and bottoms, brassieres and panties in the markets, but practically no western clothing to speak of. I resorted to Jerry’s T-shirts and gym shorts, and even those-especially the shorts- were uncomfortably tight. Mama El was dismayed. “Oh cheri” she said, “We should go to market and find you some clothes.”

El helped me pick out a half dozen or so of brightly colored full length sarongs. After she did so, I parked myself on a shady bench while Maba El looked at fabrics. A little girl walked up and to me, and I recognized her as the little girl I had shown the fashion magazine a year ago- the incident that caused me all this trouble in the first place.

“I’m glad you are feeling better” said the little girl. “You don’t look thin and sick anymore like those girls in that magazine.”

What could I say to this?

“Why thank you sweetie- that’s very nice of you.”

I looked up and saw her mother, a typically hefty Norongalese woman. “May I sit?” she said.

“Of course.” I replied, and scooched my ample bottom over to make room for her even more ample bottom.

“You do look so much better.” said the woman. A pause, then “I’m sorry to have reported you.”

“Oh, please don’t say that.” I said. “What I did was stupid and horribly insensitive”

“You have been here long enough now. You have seen our people. You have seen me, and if you saw my husband you would understand simple genetics has already determined my daughter will never look like those women in the magazine. Those women may be seen as beautiful in your country, but in my country they are seen as foreign, abnormal and even sickly.”

She continued. “I know you did not know this. I know you meant no harm to my daughter. But it was clear you did not know how this could affect my daughter and other little girls like her on this island. No matter what they eat, how much they diet and exercise they will never look like those magazine women. And this is also true for most girls in your own country. They will never attain that kind of thinness no matter what they do.”

“Yes, I know.” I said.

“You know this now. But what is sad is this is also true of so many of your people in the USA, but they do not know it. I went to college in your country and saw this. They spend dollars and suffer misery and indignity chasing a mirage they will never reach. Why are your people never comfortable being themselves?”

“I don’t know.” I said. I really didn’t.

“I’m Maba Celine.”, she said extending her hand. I took it in both my hands in Noronga fashion. “I teach school here, algebra and biology.” We chatted on about her extended family- it turned out she was distantly related to Maba El- and caught up on the island gossip.

The next morning, after a swim and shower I put on a brassiere, panties and then a sarong. I could see now why the Norongalese women chose to dress this way. The sarongs were loose, light, airy, cool and comfortable. I could let my tummy hang over the panties, and didn’t have to worry about trying to contain it in a pair of pants or shorts. The sarongs did reveal a little more than intended when backlit by the sun, hence the brassier and panties. Still, it was much more comfortable, and I kicked myself for not switching sooner.

Jerry finally came in from sea. By now I was up to 180, having added another 2 kilos as a safety margin. How he would like me now? When he left 3 months ago, I was a mere 168. Well, I wasn’t going to hold anything back- he was going to know what a fat wife he had the instant he came home. I put on a bikini and greeted him on the front steps. “You look great” he said putting his hands on my wide bottom. “Liar.” I responded. “No seriously- tell you what” he said grinning. “Make us up a couple drinks, I’ll take a quick shower and meet me in the back patio.”

Jeremiah

When I got home, Haley was at the front door wearing a bikini. She said, “I’ve fulfilled my sentence, and I wanted you to see all 180 pounds.”
“You look hot.” I said, as I placed my hands on soft rolls of her midriff, then over wide hips and soft ample bottom. I then watched the action of her ample soft bottom as she walked into the house and felt myself getting aroused. “I can’t say it because she will refuse to believe it.” I thought. “But she looks more sexy now than she ever did when she was thin.”
I showered and heard Haley tinkling drinking glasses in the kitchen. When I went out to the patio she was sprawled in a papa san chair, soft tum flowing over her skimpy bikini bottom, generous hips filling a good portion of the chair. We caught up on what was happening on island and aboard ship. Haley again mentioned she was up to an even 180 pounds. “And here I stay.” she said. “Enough not to get in trouble with probation and the weigh ins, and from now on I am going to keep my mouth shut.” Her new clothes had finally arrived by boat, including the bikini she was wearing. “I said I was going to wear a bikini and walk the beaches” she said. “And I meant it.”

“Well I love it- let’s go for a quick walk on the beach.”

As we walked the beach we saw some of the local teens batting a volley ball around. The boys were all on the husky side, and the girls similar in size to Haley- in fact most were bigger- yet they were bikini clad and totally un-self-conscious as they casually batted the ball around, laughing as teens will. They motioned to us to join their game.

“C’mon” I said to Haley who seemed reluctant. We started batting the ball around, having fun not keeping score and not taking the game too seriously. I was drawn to how sexy Haley looked as she rippled and shimmied as she would chase after the ball. She eventually lobbed one toward me that sent me sprawling. We all laughed as she started a little rippling victory dance and laughed even more when the rest of the girls joined her. I felt relieved- it was the first time I had seen her truly relax in ages.

We waved farewell to the kids and continued our walk. A sudden rain squall caught us and we ran into one of the many tiki huts that lined the beach. Then it really opened up and visibility was near zero. “What do we do now?” said Haley “Guess we’ll have to wait it out.” I said as I wrapped my arms around her from behind, hands moving up from soft rounded pudge belly to fondle soft breasts brimming over her bikini top. She sighed, and reached around to my crotch. Soon we were on the floor. I felt her soft tummy roll on to mine as she mounted me and wrapped my arms around generous hips, as I penetrated and we oscillated to climax. Later we lay tangled together listening to the pouring rain. Eventually it let up. We looked around quickly- nobody in sight. We ran naked into the ocean for a quick dip. In the water, I scooped her up by her lush bottom as she wrapped her legs around my hips. I stood and slowly turned in the water like that as she held on, for what seemed a blissful eternity. God she felt nice. Haley was pretty when I met her, but I realized now how spindly and angular she was. Now she was beautiful.

That night, as we spooned I let my hands drift down over soft tummy, and stroked the crease between tummy bulge and pubic area, listened to her sigh softly, the moved up cupping her breast, feeling it overflow my hand. “You feel so nice I whispered”

“I’m glad you think so.” she whispered back.

“I mean it,” I said, “believe it- you are beautiful.” And for once, no rebuttal, as we drifted into sweet sleep.
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Old 10-16-2013, 03:12 AM   #3
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Default The Magistrate-Part Three

Part Three-The Magistrate

Jeremiah

At sea for another three month stint. We were heading back to port when Haley called on the radio, distraught. She had another summons to appear before the magistrate.

“What happened?” I asked, and Haley related the following story:

“Maba El and I had gone to the market. El was telling me I was looking well, and I told her I felt fat and ugly.”

“Such a thing to say!” said El. “See that woman at the fabric stall- is she not beautiful?”

El nodded toward a woman (the Norongalese considered it very impolite to point) who was tall even by Norongalese standards, a little over six feet, and who was also very large even by Norongalese standards. In fact she was the biggest woman I had ever seen on the island, easily 400 pounds. She wore a light blue and white batik sarong and moved with a languid grace and dignity that was almost enchanting. But still- she was so big. El repeated “She is most beautiful, no?”

It was out my mouth before I even realized it. “She looks like a beached whale!” I exclaimed.

Eloise gasped “Mrs. Brockway!”, and I knew I had done something awful. The market buzz went on around the large woman, but the tables around us had gone dead silent. Blank stares surrounded us.

“Oh, it is perhaps better that we leave now.” Eloise said, and we got up as people began to murmur behind us. We walked directly back to her cottage. El did not stop to talk to anyone on the way, which I had never seen her do. Her silence was extremely unusual, and I knew I had again managed to get myself in some sort of trouble.

El poured me a cup of tea, and a little plate with the usual four shortbreads on it. She took two for herself. Usually she chatted away as she did this, but now she was ominously silent. After pouring her tea she sat down and sighed.

“What did I do this time El?” I was scared- I had never seen her like this.
“Oh! - to say such a thing about the prime minister’s wife, a woman who has done so much for her country, and is so admired by her people…” - but I was not hearing anything after that.

Oh my god - I had called the prime minister’s wife a beached whale within the hearing of others at the market.

El saw my distressed look. “Cheri, you are young, you have many things to learn. I will not report this. But the others that may have heard?” She shrugged her big shoulders.

Of course the constable arrived the next morning with a summons. The hearing was in one week.

I said, “I’ll be back in two days, Haley-we can talk about what to do then.”

Haley

When Jerry got home we sat in our back patio and discussed options.

“You need to contest.” Jerry said.

“I can’t. If I do they will call Eloise to testify against me, and I don’t want to put her through that. Besides there were easily a half dozen other people who heard me say it. All I can do is apologize, plead guilty and hope for the best. If I contest that magistrate is going to find me guilty anyway, and what do you think he is going to impose as sentence? If I contest that will just make him mad and he’ll probably order me to gain 100 kilos.”

Court day. Jerry and I went to the courthouse. I was wearing a plain navy blue sarong- the Norongalese reserve dark colors for funerals, and I hoped this would show the magistrate that I was taking this very seriously. I spotted Mama El in the audience as Jerry and I walked to the bench reserved for defendants.

My case was called.

The magistrate said, “This is yet another example of foreign cultural contamination we do not want to see in our nation. You may condemn our culture and lifestyle as being unhealthy. But what we regard as unhealthy is your mean spirited intolerance toward any world view that differs from yours. You Americans are obsessed with body image and thinness to the point of neurosis. Despite the number of overweight people in your country your intolerance for large people is legendary throughout the world. Here in Noronga, we look at body size very differently than you do, and our concept of what is attractive and beautiful is different from yours. We see beauty where you only see ugliness. Can you not understand that we wish to protect our people, especially our young people from the poisonous aspects of your culture? To make such comments about the prime minister’s wife, a good woman who has done much for our people, who is seen as beautiful and highly regarded by her nation- there must be consequences. You have pled guilty to the charge. Have you anything to say before I pronounce sentence?”

I started speaking, softly, head down, hoping I would remember all the things I wanted to say. “Your honor, everything you have said is true. What I have done is wrong. I know that the people of Noronga see things differently than I do, and just because they have a different viewpoint about what is beautiful and what is not, that does not make their viewpoint wrong. I have prejudices I need to overcome. I know all this in my head, but I need to know this here”, I said putting my hands over my heart. “I am guilty of everything you say. I can only express my sorrow for what I have done and my apologies to this court and the people of Noronga for saying things I had no right to say about a good woman who is greatly loved and respected by her people. And I express my apologies to her, for I have wronged her greatly. I do plead guilty as there is absolutely nothing I can say to justify my words or defend my actions.”

The magistrate nodded slowly.
“I have good news for you. The prime minister’s wife has spoken to me about this matter…” The prime minister’s wife? But how would she even know… Then I realized- El had probably spoken to a cousin who had spoken to another cousin who knew a cousin of the prime minister’s wife. The “island internet” Jerry called it and it never ceased to amaze me.

The magistrate continued, “After hearing your statement I agree with the prime minister’s wife that clemency is appropriate.”
“I will now pronounce sentence. 50 kilos in addition to all other prior sentences…” The magistrate paused and my heart stopped. An additional 110 pounds! I would weigh 286 pounds! ….But the magistrate was not finished… “With all but 25 kilos suspended in accordance with clemency as requested by the prime minister’s wife….” I started breathing again and did the math- an additional 55 pounds- that would put me at 231…
“…..To be maintained for the duration of your time on Norongo…..”

Wait- that meant I couldn’t try to lose the weight- ever- for as long as I was here.

“Wait a minute-” said Jerry. Oh no, I thought.

“Sit down young man- you have nothing to say here.”

“I do and I’m going to say it.”

“I have something to say too.”, said the magistrate. “Contempt of court, 5 kilos.”

“For him or for me?” I gasped.

“For him.” snapped the magistrate.

Jerry kept going. “I don’t care; I’m going to say my piece.”

“Contempt, 15 kilos”

“You can’t do this- you said clemency- that means she should be pardoned.”
“25 kilos.”

“If the prime minister’s wife suggests clemency, Haley should be pardoned.”, shouted Jerry.

“Oh, did the prime minister’s wife talk to you?” asked the magistrate.

“Well no,” said Jerry, “but-“

“But nothing, she spoke to me and recommended clemency, not pardon.”
“This is bullshit!” said Jerry. Oh god NO! I thought.

“40 kilos for you for contempt of court and an additional 5 kilos for your young lady.”

“Jeremiah!” I gasped.

“What? What?” said Jeremiah who was finally becoming dimly aware of the consequences.

“Jeremiah- please – sit down. Your honor, I apologize for my husband’s behavior-“

“Young lady, I feel badly for you being married to such a man. I have shown as much leniency and patience as I can. There must be consequences for such behavior.” Then he turned to Jerry who stood in stunned silence- thank god.

“Young man, I suggest you buy a dictionary. Clemency does not equate to pardon. If the prime minister’s wife wanted pardon she would have explicitly stated pardon.”

“Sentence is: Jeremy Brockway 40 kilos for contempt of court, to be maintained for duration of stay on Noronga—“

“Haley Brockway. All prior sentences reinstated, plus 25 kilos for disparaging comment about the beloved wife of our prime minister, plus an additional 5 kilos for the behavior of her husband before this court. Total 30 additional kilos in addition to prior 20 kilo sentence, to be maintained for duration of stay on Noronga.”

The gavel banged down. That was that.

I grabbed Jerry’s arm, and hauled him out of the courtroom before he could recover from his shock and say something else.

“I’m sorry Haley.” he said as we headed home.

“Save it.” I said. “I told you I was going to plead guilty and accept what came my way, and you had to stick your nose in… what the hell was all that?”

“He said clemency- back in Texas whenever the governor gave clemency that meant a pardon.”

“We’re not in Texas, Jeremiah. That’s what you keep telling me.”

“I know.” he said. I was just trying to protect you”

“And how did that work out?” I snapped. “ 40 kilos, that’s 88 pounds for you, 25 kilos plus an additional 5 kilo penalty for me. Eleven pounds more that the magistrate was originally going to sentence me for! Remember when I got to 176, you kept saying you loved the way those extra pounds felt on me? Well you had better like those eleven extra pounds buster, because it was you that put them on me.”

The remaining ride back home in the golf cart was silent. When we entered the door to our cottage Jerry said “Haley, I’m sorry I-“

I went into the bedroom and slammed the door.

I sat on the bed and let the tears flow. How did this all get started? After 10 minutes I got up, pulled a scrap of paper off the dresser and a pencil and started adding. I weighed 60 kilos when I got here, was sentenced to gain 10 kilos for the magazine incident, then 10 more kilos when I tried to cheat. That was 80 kilos total and brought me up to 176 pounds. Now 25 more kilos from the magistrate, that makes 105 kilos, 231 pounds. I’m at 180 pounds now, so that’s an additional 51 pounds. But - my husband had to open his big mouth and give me 5 more kilos. Eleven more pounds. My head hurt as I added it all up. One hundred ten kilos total. Two hundred forty two pounds.
I stripped down and looked at my 180 pound frame in the mirror, trying to imagine what an additional 62 pounds would look like. After five months at 180, I was just beginning to get comfortable at this weight. It could have been only 51 more pounds at this point, but no thank you Jeremiah T. Brockway. I sighed. Maybe by the time I get to 231 pounds, I won’t even care about 11 more. I put back on my bra and panties and a sarong.

I opened the bedroom door. Jeremy was lying down on the couch, staring at the wall. He looked up at me “I’m sor-“ he started.

“Shut up. I’m going for a walk. Alone.”

I went down the path to the beach, found a bench and sat down. The surf-song helped soothe my aching head. If I hadn’t opened my big mouth at the market, Jeremy never would have had a chance to open his in court. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t blame him for this.

And now he was in it too, I realized. 40 kilos- that was 88 pounds. I wasn’t really sure how much Jerry weighed, but I knew he would be well over 200 pounds too. Like it or not now we were in this together.

The palms made long shadows as the sun went down, and the sky turned pink. The surf kept saying what it had said for centuries. The breeze carried the sound of laughter. I turned and saw a young plump (was there any other kind?) Norongalese couple walking the surfline.

They were taking turns trying to push and pull each other into the ocean, laughing. They looked to be in their late teens, maybe twentyish. The young man was about six feet and had a big belly that flowed over waistband of shorts, but the broad shoulders and muscular arms of a fisherman. He looked to be about 250 pounds I guessed. The young lady was a bit shorter but every bit as hefty and as they played their little game she was giving back as good as she got. The breeze carried their laughter to me. I smiled as I recalled how Jerry and I would do this as we walked the beaches in Texas. Then, at 132, I was a pushover. Jerry still liked to try to get my feet wet as we walked the beaches at Noronga, but now at 180 pounds, I wasn’t nearly the pushover I used to be. I supposed I would be even less of a pushover when I got to 242 pounds. They walked past, and I watched the young man’s generous love handles, and young lady’s wide bottom wobble as the continued down the beach. They seemed incredibly happy.
Soon Jerry and I will be that big I thought.

Could we be happy? Could I be happy?

I didn’t know.

The first few stars began winking. I sighed, got up and went back to the cottage. “Haley-“ said Jerry-

“It’s ok Jerry, it’s ok. C’mon. I need to be held.”

The next morning we self-reported to the facility. We had already been through this drill, but for Jerry this was no longer a tag along. He was in the system. Jerry was due to ship out again in three weeks and he went to the court’s sentencing division to ask about accommodation when he was out to sea. When he came back he said enforcement arranged for food packages to go with him aboard ship, one for each day at sea. They were expected to be gone when he returned, and not by dumping them over the side either. He would be weighed for progress before he left and after he returned.

Three weeks later we were dockside. “See you in three months.” said Jerry.

“I‘ll still be here- I’ll be too fat to waddle off anywhere.” I said.

“Well, when I get back we can waddle off together- how’s that?” said Jerry.

Jeremiah

Before I shipped out to sea I went to the sentencing division to see if anything could be done about the additional 5 kilos tacked on to Haley’s sentence. I was politely but firmly shown the door. I tried the oil consortium to see if they could work something through their myriad political connections with the Norongalese government, but of course they were not about to do anything that could jeopardize their precious oil leases, and that included interference with the local justice system. I said nothing about this to Haley. If there was anything good about this, it was I now had to gain too. She was no longer in this alone. But no possibility of reducing weight unless we left Noronga. Which meant if we were able to go back to the States, we would be big when we did it. I knew Haley’s friends back home and for the most part I was not impressed. They shallow, conceited and were unmerciful in their snide remarks about overweight people. There were certainly none in their social circle.

Well, one step at a time. We both had sentences to serve, and whatever else happened had to happen after that.

Haley. Five months later.


I weighed myself every morning every day-. Now at 92 kilos- 202 pounds- I was no longer “overweight”, I was well into obesity according to the charts. And I still had another 18 kilos to go. I tried not to think about it, and kept the mirror covered.

I put on my bikini and sarong and walked down to the beach. The surf eased my troubled mind, and I admired the pink cotton candy clouds on the horizon. I took off the sarong and eased myself into the water. I had come to love these morning swims so much. I felt heavy and awkward on land, but in the water I felt light and graceful. Usually I missed Jeremy not being with me, but this was one of those mornings I didn’t mind being alone.

After 15 minutes I walked out of the water, toweled off and went back to the cottage for a quick shower then a large breakfast. After that some light housekeeping, then I put on a dry bikini, sarong, gathered the hair up from my neck and put in a barrette, and had a quick snack. Snacking had nearly become second nature to me by now as I struggled to comply with my sentences. Then I walked over to Maba El’s and we waddled the half mile to market together. This took 30 minutes if we did not encounter friends, and we nearly always encountered friends. We would then check out the stalls for fabrics, little household items like soaps, shampoos sometimes sunblock for me- I was going through more of it these days for obvious reasons- and I would sample and partake of the various little treats and goodies as we went around the perimeter as Maba El entreated me to try this or that and wasn’t it good? Then El and I would lunch together with Maba Celine, and a leisurely walk back to Mama El's for tea and shortbreads. After that I usually went back to my cottage for a snack and nap through the warmest part of the day, and would spend the late afternoon puttering around the plants and flower garden. Then a snack, another walk to the beach for a quick swim, walk back, a quick shower, a big dinner, and reading on the patio before bed. This was my usual routine when Jerry was away.

Jeremiah.


As my weight gain progressed while at sea, I wondered how Haley would like having a fat husband. Her weight gain had done incredible things with her curves, but all I was getting was a fat stomach. When I was near the engine room, I could feel the vibrations coursing through my belly. I could see and feel it wobble when I brushed my teeth or shook my can of shaving cream. Because the Norongalese government had insisted as many oil survey employees as possible be indigenous, most of my shipmates- and the ship’s captain- were locals, and rather robust. I had to inform the captain of my sentence if for no other reason than to account for all the special nutrition packages that had been added to the ship’s manifest. If the crew knew about my sentence they didn’t say anything, nor did they say anything as my belly flowed over the waistband of my shorts. Before long, I found my bunk too confining, and opted for a hammock outside on the after deck. When I awoke during the night beneath the Southern Cross, I would think of Haley. The extra pounds looked terrific on her- but would she still find me attractive? With her degree in economics Haley had options, and could go back to the States, with or without me. I tried to reassure myself. So far we had stuck together through this- literally- through thick and thin.

Haley. Six months later.

The morning birdsong awoke me. I found myself hugging the Jerry’s pillow as I often did when he was at sea. A pink patch of sunlight lit the wall. I rolled down the sheet from my nude body- pajamas and blankets were superfluous in Noronga. I got to my feet and went to the scale. 105.1 kilos, just over 231 pounds. What my sentenced weight would have been if Jeremy hadn’t tried to play lawyer. Well, that was water under the bridge. I got up, looked at the towel covering the mirror and pulled it off. I couldn’t hold back any more, I had to see just how big I had gotten

Hoo-wee, you may have had hips before sister, but you sure got ‘em now. Hips and bottom to match. Now I knew why the doorways in Norongalese cottages were so wide. At least my bottom was somewhat counterbalanced by my chest. Jerry said I was getting a “healthy set” just before he shipped out. I supposed they were even healthier now. And while I may have had a tummy at 180, I had a belly now. It billowed and wobbled over my pubic area. Everything rippled as I turned sideways and I sighed. I was soft wobbly billowing curves all over. Most of the last 20 pounds must have gone straight to my bottom, which had blossomed dramatically. It wasn’t as big as Maba El’s, but I still had another 5 kilos to go.

I wondered how Jerry’s gain was coming along aboard ship. He was up to 101 kilos, 222 pounds when he shipped out two months ago, and still had another 20 kilos to go to complete his sentence.

I put on some undies and a bra, then a sarong and waddled over to Maba Eloise’s for tea. Maba El’s cheery smile and “Bonjour” greeted me as I went through the gate.

“Cheri, that is good news” when I told her I had finally made it to another milestone in my sentence. “It will not take you long now, and you will be finished. Then you can relax.“

“Thank you El. I suppose that’s true.”

She passed me tea in cup and saucer, and another little plate with four of her shortbreads. El had taken two for herself. She had always done that four for me, two for her. I had long suspected El packed some super calorie laden ingredient in her shortbreads to help me along. At this point I didn’t care.

I told El about my theory on why Norogalese doorways were so wide. El laughed her tinkly laugh and said “Oh cheri, that is not it at all! It is so the air can circulate. You Americans have such funny ideas.”

Jerry came back from sea, now 47 pounds heavier. After he had come back the last time, he had gained about 25 pounds, and was just beginning to show some tummy. Now I reached up under his t-shirt and rubbed his soft belly. He muttered about his “beer belly”. I told him he felt like a soft plush teddy bear, and we went into the bedroom for soft cuddling and fondling.

Haley. Two months later.

Finally! 110.2 kilos, just over 242 pounds. I put on my bikini (mental note to self, top ok, bottom snug, get new pair) had breakfast, went on my slow beach walk, a swim, a snack, a shower, then change into new tops and bottoms and a sarong. I waddled and wobbled over to Maba El’s for tea. Celine was also visiting today, and as I eased my bulk into a chair I told them I had finally reached my sentenced weight. El said, “Whatever the reason, I am so glad you have finally started to fill out. You look so much better. I was so very worried about you for so very long.”

Started to fill out? I thought. My lord, these people were impossible! Well, if nothing else, I can at least try to be polite, especially to El.

“Thank you El, I’m glad to hear you are no longer so worried about me.”
“You do look much better than when we first met.” said Celine.

El added “I’m sure your young man is pleased.”

Strangely enough, now that I thought on it there had been more cuddling, fondling and canoodling since I began this strange journey. I had just put it off to Jerry being at sea so much, but maybe El was right….

Celine giggled and uttered something in French. “Plus le bateau le plus comfortable du voyage”.

El began giggling and put a hand to her mouth. “Oh! Celine…”

What was this about? “What did she say?” I asked.

“The bigger the boat the more comfortable the voyage.” El, translated, still giggling. “It is something our men will say when they think we are not close by to hear them.” I started chuckling myself. Oh, these people!

The mood lightened, Maba El then told the story of how her nephew’s showing off first handmade dugout canoe to his girlfriend and his struggles to stay afloat until he ultimately tipped it over much to his girlfriend’s amusement. It was funny, Celine and El’s laughter was contagious and I genuinely laughed as I had not laughed in a long time. I became aware of new sensations as my breasts and belly jiggled when I laughed. Now understood the expression belly laugh, and it made me laugh even harder. I then told the story of Jerry’s first attempts at water skiing, and our laughter carried into the afternoon breeze.

Jeremiah

Back on shore now, as we waited for seismic instruments to be shipped in from Australia. Haley had astonished me by ordering a new bikini that fit her new 245 pound body, a bikini she was wearing as I arrived back at the cottage. Haley’s hips nearly filled the papa san chair to overflowing.

“You look great” I said. “Liar”. She responded.

"I mean it- you look like dynamite." We sat in papa san chairs outside the cottage, under the trees enjoying the sea breeze and drinking mai tais. Her soft belly concealed her bikini bottom as it flowed onto her thighs. She stirred and sent ripples through breasts, belly and thighs. “God, you look terrific” I said. “Tell you what-let me shower….” I said, placing a hand on a generous hip, “then I want to check out those new curves”. But when I got out of the shower it was Haley who came up from behind me placing her arms and hands around my soft marshmallow belly.

We went into the bedroom. Everything soft silky, lush. I explored billowing curves, soft rolls, valleys, felt Haley ripple to my touch. Shoulder blades, ribs and hips were covered in glorious velvet softness. My caressing fingers found a new creases and rolls to explore. Even though I had been away three months, I took my time. There were whole worlds to explore here…. I started kissing Haley’s breasts, then she stroked the underside of my wobbly belly and I got rock hard. She mounted me, and I felt her soft belly flowing over mine as I went into silky grainy oblivion. I ran my hands down her side, over the bulge where belly flowed onto hips, then the wide flare of her hips and the lush expanse of bottom that rippled as we moved together. Haley’s billowing breasts surged before me and I licked sweet nipples as we came to climax…

Haley

I mounted Jerry, and felt his hands move over the rolls of my midriff, grasp my hips and finally my wide bottom, as I felt his soft belly wobble in rhythm to our motion. His lips caressed my breasts and we climaxed together……

Jeremiah

We showered in the patio shower. Bit of tight fit, made mental note to enlarge the privacy screen.

Late afternoon we slowly walked the beach, hand in hand. The teens were playing volleyball again, and again beckoned us to join their game, guys against gals. Haley was not as mobile at 245 as she was at 180, but her teammates helped set up shots she could lob over net. Of course, I was not as mobile as I used to be either, and Haley again lobbed over a shot that sent me sprawling into the soft sand. Haley again went rippling into her victory dance, once again joined by the young ladies.

As we were about to resume our walk one of the young men remarked to me, “Your wife looks pretty for a foreigner. “

“Don’t get ideas”, I said which started him and his friend chuckling, and I added “Don’t give her any ideas either.” which sent all of them laughing.
Haley and I waved and waddled on.

Haley asked, “What were you and that young man laughing about?”

“He finds you attractive,” I said. “I told him not to get any ideas- that you were spoken for.”

“Well he is kind of cute.” teased Haley.

“Now don’t you start getting ideas either or I’ll have to ask Maba El to check up on you when I’m away.”

Haley squeezed my hand. “You’ve got nothing to worry about honey, and believe me El is always watching to make sure I stay on the straight and narrow.”

Haley


Jerry is home again, and has completed his sentence. I finally got him to tell me his weight- 268 pounds. That meant he had weighed 180 pounds when he was sentenced, and for a long time he and I were the same weight. As we cuddled up and I rubbed his soft belly I told him I didn’t think it was fair that his sentence was less than mine. After all I had gained 110 pounds to his 88. “It looks a lot better than you than it does on me,” Jerry would say. “I can’t tell you how much those curves of yours make me crazy.”

“Well you feel awful nice to me right now.” I said. Jerry did feel so soft and cuddly and comforting.

“Even with this beer gut?” he asked.

I laughed. “It wasn’t from beer and we both know it”, I said as I reached down and stroked the underside of his belly. This resulted in more cuddling and fondling and…..
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Old 10-16-2013, 03:24 AM   #4
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Default The Magistrate-Part Four

Part Four-Paradise Lost

Haley. One year later.


“I have news,” Jerry said. “Good news. The consortium said they like what I have done out here, and I’m in line for a promotion. They want to interview me for a management position based in Houston. We can go back home Hon!”

“Oh Jerry, that’s terrific!” Then I thought about the implications. When we came to Noronga I weighed 132 pounds- now I had been 245 pounds for over a year. What would my friends at home say when they saw me? At least back in the States I could go on a diet and lose the weight, something my sentence would not let me do as long as I stayed in Noronga. But could I lose the extra pounds? I didn’t know.

When we finally boarded the plane in Sydney, I was very grateful the consortium was willing to spring for seats in first class. I’m not sure coach could have accommodated my hips. I pulled out seatbelt to maximum length, tried to put over my pelvis as the instructions suggested, but my belly kept getting in the way. Finally I just pushed up my tummy roll with my hands, and let it flow back down over the seat belt.

At least it was better than the cargo plane from Samoa. That tiny jumpseat was pure hell. The pilot sad said sure, no problem when he was asked if he had room for two passengers. I recalled his expression when he saw us- “Could be touch and go with this load.” Wise ass.

After four years in Noronga we had forgotten about the frantic pace of metropolitan Houston. And the congestion. After one early morning meeting at corporate HQ it took us two hours to drive the five miles back to our

“You wouldn’t want to walk it here.” said Jerry, pointing the car’s outdoor temperature display- 94 degrees- and it was only eleven in the morning.

“And I can’t get a decent cup of tea anywhere.” I complained. “I asked if I could get some coconut milk with my tea, and they said the only place that had that was the bar, and it didn’t open until noon!”

Back at the hotel, Jerry sifted through some paperwork while I called a couple of my old friends from the phone in the hotel room.

Brianna sounded thrilled. “It’s been so long girlfriend. I can’t wait to catch up. I’ll be there in about an hour.”

Brianna was jabbering on her cell phone as she knocked on the door to my hotel room. She looked shocked as she opened the door-“Hon I gotta go now, call you later” and she put away her cell. She stared a moment and finally said “My goodness honey what happened to you? You used to be such a little thing and now you’re so… big.”

“Long story and its complicated”, I said, “let’s just say it’s easier to adapt to the local culture than to fight it. You’re looking a bit peaked yourself. You feeling OK?”

“Oh I’m fine darlin’-let’s go out to the pool. I left a message for Stacy, I’m hoping she can join us.” We went down the elevator, and through the lobby and out toward the pool, Brianna the whole time gibbering away at the new clothes she bought, the jewelry she saw on sale, her new promotion, how her new boyfriend had a Porsche… then Brianna caught herself- “Sorry Haley, just got caught in the moment.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I said.

We opened the door and walked into a wall of Texas heat and humidity. As we walked to the pool area, the sun beating down like a hammer, Brianna took another quick call on her cell. When she hung up I said “Wow it’s brutal out here- let’s get drinks and get in the shade.” A couple mai tais, and we found two empty lounge chairs under the umbrella. Brianna took off her blouse and eased her slinky thin bikini clad body into a lounge chair. I pulled off my sarong and did the same. Even behind the sunglasses, I saw Brianna’s eyes pop when she saw I was also wearing a bikini. Well, why not, it’s what I did in Noronga, and it was too damn hot to keep anything else on.

Brianna studied my billowing 245 pound frame and said “Boy, island life sure has changed you Hon. The food there must be fantastic. “

“It is.” I said, and swiftly changed the subject back to Brianna’s favorite subject- Brianna. “Now tell me about your promotion hon-“

We were interrupted by a loud “mooooooo” from a boisterous group of young men swilling beers on the other side of the pool. Guffaws followed. Brianna reached into her purse, pulled out her phone and texted something, then put her phone back in her purse. “I heard there’s no cell service in Noronga.” she said.

“That’s not quite true” I said, “They do have cell service for emergencies, but not for everyday conversation. The Norogalese value in person conversation very highly.”

“And no cars either” said Brianna.

“There’s a few” I said, “but the island is not that big, so there’s really not much need.”

“How can anyone live without a car?

How indeed I thought, listening to horns and the grumble of freeway traffic as I surveyed the smoggy sky over Houston.

Brianna interrupted my musing. “You remember Carmen, how she was always a little chunky, right? Well she got so fat-“

“That her boyfriend dumped her?” I said.

Brianna put a hand to her mouth-“Goodness you and Jerry aren’t having any problems are you?” Subtlety was not Brianna’s strong suit. “Well Hon, but don’t you worry about a thing. You can hook up with a gym again- well not my gym because they won’t take you as a member if you are that big, but- and there’s that spa outside the city that specializes in this kind of thing. And if that doesn’t work you could go for one of those lap band thingeys at…”

“Things are fine between Jerry and me. And I don’t need surgery Brianna.”

Brianna looked me over again. Slowly. “Girl, you telling me you want to be fat?”

“I want to be me.”

“No offense Hon, but right now it looks like there’s a whole lot of you to go around. Now I know somebody at Mid Gulf Medical Center, and they can get you fixed up..”

“NO. No thanks, Brianna.”

Brianna’s smartphone rang. She said “Excuse me Hon” and answered- “ Uh-huh. But I with a friend right now. It can’t wait? Right now? OK, OK” she said and hung up. “So nice to see you again Hon, but there’s an emergency at work and I gotta go”, as she put on her overshirt and grabbed her purse. “Tomorrow then?” I asked. “I’ll call you Hon” Brianna called out brightly as she waltzed out of the pool area and out of sight.

Well, that left Stacy, if she decided to show up. But now it was even hotter, and I needed to cool off. I hauled myself out of the lounger and waddled over to the stairs at the shallow end of the pool. The beer drinkers club was doing a lot of sniggering at my expense. I got in and began a slow swim to the other end.

“Thar she blows!” From one of the beer boys. More guffaws. Again I ignored them, finished my swim, got another mai tai and waddled back to my lounge chair. Stacy walked into the pool area 10 minutes later jabbering on her cell phone, and scanned the pool area. She then start walking around the pool, past the beer boys much to their delight, then around to my side, walked past me, put her phone away, turned back walked past me again and paused.

"Looking for someone?" I said.

Stacy turned, a look of uncertainty in her face. But there was no way that fat cow in the lounger could be her old buddy Haley.

“I’m looking for a friend who said she would meet me here.” she said hesitantly.

I took off my sunglasses. “What does she look like?” I asked.

Stacy looked at me, confused. “Um- thin, pretty, brunette- although I haven’t seen her in four years. Her hair could be a different color now, or something.”

“Haven’t seen anybody by that description.”, I said, and put the sunglasses back on my face. Not very damn likely you are going to see her either I thought.

“Maybe she’ll show up in a few minutes.” said Stacy.

“Maybe sooner than you think.” I said.

“Um, yeah, maybe.” said Stacy, who then drifted off and settled in a lounge chair near the beer swilling louts, much to their delight. At least their ogling her diverted their attention from me. Finally after a drink and 15 minutes- 10 of which she was yapping in to her cell phone- Stacy left.

I got up, threw my sarong over my shoulder and waddled my way out of the pool area. A jeering voice behind me called, “Hey darlin’, got any fries to go with that shake. Haw, haw haw.”

Very witty. Idiots.

“It was all contrived.” I told Jerry. “Brianna didn’t want to be seen with me, so she set up that emergency phone call. Stacy didn’t even recognize me. Or didn’t want to recognize me. My so- called friends. And the catcalls, the jeers the comments- You’ve been poolside Jerry and no one says a thing about you. But if I go out there- why is it fat men never get crap, but fat women do? Why is my country so fat-phobic, especially against women?”

“They were just jealous because you look so good.”

“Totally cornball Jerry, but the right thing to say.”

We had planned on dinner at a restaurant a half block away, but as soon as we went outside we were immediately mugged by Texas heat. By the time we waddled the half block we were dripping. On Noronga there was always a cool sea breeze. Why- I thought- why did we come back here?

And why would we want to stay?

“Jerry, I want to go back.” I said after appetizers.

“Haley, in a lot of ways I don’t blame you. I had forgotten how crazy Houston is, the traffic and the heat. But if we go back we are under sentence to keep the weight on. Forever. You know that- right?”

“I know it, and at this point I don’t really care. I haven’t been 132 pounds in four years Jerry. And I’ve been over 200 pounds for almost two years. Even if I lost the weight, I would be miserable here. I miss El and Celine, our walks to the market. Let’s go back.”

“Haley, I want you to think about this. If we go back, I may never be offered another chance to promote up. It means going back to sea months at a time. Noronga is beautiful, but it’s small and remote and far away from everything. I still have to meet with some people here. But I want you to think this through. Is this what you really want? Do you want to be 245 pounds the rest of your life? If you stay on that island you - we- will never be thin again.”

“Do you find me unattractive?”

“You know better than that,” said Jerry. “I just want you to think about everything that’s involved here.”

Jerry was gone most of the next day, talking with the bigwigs at corporate. I lay in the shade at poolside. The beer swilling louts had moved on, and there were few people poolside despite the relentless heat. Jerry was right, we had his future with the company to consider, and it was hard with him at sea so much of the time. Noronga was remote. But after my “re-acquaintances” with Brianna and Stacy I missed Celine and Eloise.
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Old 10-16-2013, 03:30 AM   #5
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Default The Magistrate-Part Five

Part Five-Paradise Regained

Haley

That evening after Jerry and I had ordered dinner Jerry asked if I had thought things over. I said I had, but really had not come to a decision.

“Well, after talking my options over with the big shots, I have.” Jerry said. “We’re going home Haley.”

“Back to Texas?” I said halfheartedly.

“I said home, Haley. Home to where we belong, home to where our friends are. We’re going back to Noronga.”

If my bulk had permitted it, I would have stretched across the table to give him a big hug. I heaved out of my chair and wobbled around the table and embraced Jerry.

“I love you Haley.” Jerry said. “You were happy on Noronga- we were happy. And that is where we need to be.”

The oil consortium insisted Jerry and I be examined by American doctors before going back to Noronga even though we protested that the medical staff on Noronga seemed more than competent. The same lady doctor who had examined me before we went to Noronga was again examining me now. Her eyes gave her surprise away when she first saw me, but she did her best to be professional.

“Bloodwork good, HDL and LDL cholesterols look good, better than average actually, blood pressure and pulse surprisingly good, height 5 feet 7 inches, weight… “ I stepped on the scale.

“Weight 245, BMI..”, she paused at she entered the data “BMI 38.4. No offense Hon, but-“

“I’m obese.” I said “I know that. Is there anything else? Anything that would keep me from going back with my husband?”

“No…” she said slowly, “but you should consider-“

“Consider losing weight,” I said. “I have considered it. Forget it.”

“Still, it’s surprising- you are in pretty good health for…” A pause.

“A woman my size?” I said.

“Well actually… yes. Tell me a little more about what you do on Noronga, what do you eat?”

“It’s mostly fish for protein, tuna, mahi-mahi, sometimes chicken, very rarely pig or goat if there’s some kind of celebration or event.”

“No red meat?”

“Not unless you go to the roughneck section where the oil workers stay. I don’t go there.”

“What else?”

“Taro, breadfruit, papayas, cocoanut, mangos, sweet potatoes, yams, pineapple, bananas…..”

“And for exercise?”

“I don’t do any exercises really. I get up in the morning, walk a half mile to the lagoon, swim 20 minutes or a half hour, and walk back. Then my friend and I usually walk to the market at noon.”

“How far is that?”

“The market’s about a half mile out and of course we walk back. Then in the evening I walk the beach again.”

“So you walk at least three miles every day?”

“I haven’t added it up, but yes, I suppose. It’s not like I am breaking any speed records doing it. Things move pretty slow on the island.”

“Still, it’s three miles. No fast food, dairy products, no chips or junk foods, no soda?”

I laughed. “Not on Noronga. If you want it bad enough and are willing to pay an exorbitant price you can get those things- it’s mainly the foreign oil workers who get that stuff.”

“Interesting,” the doctor said. “Well, you have certainly changed since the last time we met. Still, I see nothing wrong and no reason for you not to go back. Have a good trip.”

I got dressed and left.

“I know.” said Jerry, “I got the same flak about my weight. But they found no issues either. We’re going back to paradise Haley- that’s the important thing.”

In first class on the flight to Sidney, a fellow passenger tried striking up conversation. “Where are you folks headed? Going to do a reef tour?”

“We’re going to Noronga.” said Jerry.

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s an island archipelago about 500 miles northeast of Australia- we’ve been there four years now. Had to pop over to the States for some business meetings and now we’re headed back.”

“Noronga huh?” he said looking us over. “Well, the-“

Haley cut him off. “The food there is fantastic”, she said nodding her head for emphasis.

As it turned out, the consortium needed someone to spend more time interpreting the trove of geological data coming in from the surveys. That meant Jerry was spending less time at sea and more in his office on Noronga. Celine spoke to some relatives, and I was soon putting my economics degree to practical use in the Oil Ministry. Celine also managed to set up a part time arrangement for me to teach English at the school. Like everything in Noronga, it was all pretty casual, and there was still time for beachwalks, swims and trips to market with Eloise and Celine.

Six months after we came back, we were asked to entertain an Australian executive of the oil consortium and his wife as they inspected the oil survey operation and toured the island. After Jerry and the exec had returned from Jerry’s office, and the exec’s wife and I had come back from the market, the men retired to the back patio. I was mixing four mai tais in the kitchen. On the shelf nearby, the exec’s wife was looking at our photos, the first a photo of us thin and in swimsuits poolside in Houston before we came to Noronga, and the second a photo taken by Eloise of Jerry and me in front of our cottage two weeks after we got back from the States. In the second photo, Jerry was in shorts, I was in my bikini, both of us “filled out” as Maba El would say. Big shot’s wife said, “This first one is of you before you came to Noronga?”

“Yes.” I said.

“And the other after you came back to stay?”

“ Yes.”

“My goodness, what a difference.”

“Yes.” I said, “In the second photo we are happy.”

The End.
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Old 10-16-2013, 09:03 AM   #6
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Quality story, I loved it!
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Old 10-17-2013, 03:29 PM   #7
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Another good story, but I was hoping they'd be a bit bigger....like 300+ range.
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Old 10-18-2013, 04:13 PM   #8
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Wow If This Is Part One I Hope There Will Be A Part Two. Whether Yes Or No A Really Great Read. I Could Have Hoped For A Greater Gain But It Read Delightfully. Thanks For Sharing
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