- Jan 16, 2008
Paranoia's Tales 005 - Ice Cream
The past is a boat which floats upon a sea of dreams.
What was once truth in the here and now can fade into obscurity without ever having ever docked upon the port of the present.
Have you ever tasted the meal you had yesterday? Have the pounds of futures past come to visit you today?
This is why antiques can prove so valuable.
What I believe in: That which I can smell and taste.
What I believe in: Eating and growing.
What I believe in: My name; Paranoia.
It’s a pleasure to walk among you all once again this holiday season.
It was the end of a very bad day.
Paranoia had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, burnt her toast, been late to work, tore a skirt in front of that guy she liked, missed the train back home and she had to work on Christmas Day of all days.
Now it was starting to rain.
Naturally, she hadn’t even considered taking an umbrella on a day that started off so sunny but at least she didn’t live too far away. She put her leather briefcase over her head with one hand and decided to saunter the rest of the way; knowing full well that testing her luck any further would probably result in a short trip with a muddy landing. The plastic bag carried in her other hand was far too precious to risk going any faster.
The apartment lock undid itself with a soft click which echoed into the empty expanses of the single bedroom unit. The storm outside only grew stronger as wild winds slammed the door behind her. The twenty-something office woman emerged onto the landing and wrung out the dripping ends of her long, blonde hair. Thick droplets of rain clung to her white front-buttoned blouse and revealed multiple moist patches that had condensed along the outline of her huge bosoms. The overfilled cups of her bra groaned as she slid her chubby arms out of the sleeves of her pin-striped blazer and allowed it to drop with a heavy, wet splat onto the floor. Being able to shed at least 2 pounds of water-logged clothing still felt like such a relief upon her 200 pound, 5’6’’ frame but did nothing to make her look any lighter. Paranoia had a large bust, a curvy set of hips and a more than generous waistline which struggled against the metal clasp of her skirt. She breathed in deeply and allowed them to separate, much to the relief of the aching inches of reddened skin they encircled. She stood for a moment, free of her soaked shackles, her skin paler than the moon and soft to the touch whilst she searched for something more comfortable to slip into.
The soft silk covers beckoned. Wet laundry could wait for the weekend. Pajamas, a movie, a warm spot on the couch and a bowl of ice-cream were just what the doctor ordered for the holiday season. There wasn’t time to go home to visit family as she was just another cog in the corporate machine expected to drop everything for her job at a moment’s notice, but Paranoia still valued her holiday hours. Getting up early during the week was hard enough but after what she had endured and now was certainly not the time to hold back.
Most people have special cutlery, a special mug or fine china. Paranoia had a spoon. It was in fact two spoons which she had bound together with rubber bands, one smaller one (for bad days) and one larger one (for REALLY bad days) which she had reserved for one of her favorite holiday treats. Rocky road, triple choc and vanilla cream with an appropriate dash of red and green sprinkles, right out of the carton was the panacea to her woes. She could easily go through several cartons as they were only sold over the holiday season. Of course, not wanting anyone to think she was a slob was important to her, and so with whatever sliver of willpower that remained, she had opted to only eat ice-cream when she was having a bad day. It just so happened that every day was a bad day.
Her figure reflected her dedication. Blonde and beautiful Paranoia was once a stunning catch in high school had only weighed 105 pounds in her sophomore year. She might better have referred to it as her ‘more-soft’ year instead since that was the fateful day that the ice-truck had come around as a part of a fund raising venture and she had her first lick of that ultra-fattening confectionary treat. 20 pounds per year soon became her staple, blimping her up to a decidedly chubby 145 by the end of high school and well over 200 by the second year of college. A regime of missing most classes, using all her meal tickets and partying most nights ruined her metabolism and only seemed to spur her gain further. Ice cream had been there for her every step of the way, as creamy smoothness danced its way through her sweetest memories and the tartness of dark chocolate comforted her through the bitterest times. She had dropped out of university but had graduated near the top of her class at a local community college to rise her way to the ranks of head sales representative of her company today. She worked hard during the week and this is how she rewarded herself on weekends.
Paranoia’s co-workers had said nothing even though they noticed her business suit grow tighter and tighter with every Monday meeting. Small love handles which barely pooched out of her skirt had become a visible muffin top as the weeks went by. Her pin-stripe blazer had recently started to go unbuttoned, still retaining all that much class and respectability as she sorted through reports at her desk. Ever since walking back and forth from the staff kitchen had become her sole form of regular exercise, they had even noticed her face become a little fuller. Two or more cartons a week tended to have that kind of effect on a girl’s figure. She permitted herself a few more since it was Christmas.
Contentment was not unachievable. Sure, the movie was average but that was merely background noise to accompany her ice cream feast. Paranoia stretched, yawned and allowed her bare belly to breathe for a moment before the two ends of her silk pajamas kissed at her middle once more. Inches of belly fat folded together as she rolled over on the couch. Her spoon clattered in the empty carton as she raised it to her lips to drink the liquefied remains. Every school girl knows that the ritual was not complete until the lid was also licked clean, a custom she partook with gusto. It was here that she noticed for the first time, something different amongst the melted chocolate bits.
“Congratulations, you’ve won!”
A rapping at her front door shattered her sense of tranquility. Paranoia faltered for a moment before uttering a string of apologies and small curses as she put the lid down and heaved her bulk off the couch. Bare feet plodded along carpet towards the pools of rainwater which had condensed upon her apartment’s entry like tiny lakes. A quick peep into the key hole revealed no one. She opened the door a crack to reveal nothing but a nondescript, brown paper package lying neatly at her front door. Not wanting anyone outside to see her in anything but her work clothes, she hastily snatched up the package and allowed the door to lock again with a soft click.
"To our favorite customer."
That was all the note attached to the package read. It had never occurred to Parnanoia that she could ever be so fortunate as she tore through the wrapping paper to reveal her prize. An ornate music box lay before her, shaped like a pirate's chest and wreathed in carved leaves with the big cartoon ice cream cone mascot on the lid. It was beautiful in a way, a mix of old world charm with the glamor of an Olympic medal all rolled into one. She ran her fingers across the crimson hourglass key on its side and took note of its craftsmanship. It felt a bit depressing to realize that it looked exactly like she had been awarded for her one talent of eating a lot of ice cream but those worries were soon drowned out by the wondrous melody which emerged beneath its lid as paranoia gave the key a twist.
Each note ran clearer than a crystal bell as Paranoia took stock of the melody. It was the company theme song, a staple of every ice cream truck the world over and filled with childhood memories. She closed her eyes and could almost taste the first scoop of vanilla bean she had been waiting patiently for at the side of the road. She could almost feel the chill upon her teeth as each metallic cog and spring spun its way around in an endless loop so long as she continued to turn that key. She smiled to herself, the first smile she had in a long time as contentment washed over her. For those few precious seconds, everything felt perfect.
Except for one thing.
Paranoia opened her eyes.
She looked at the music box and gave they key another twist.
There it was again.
She continued to twist the key and the more she listened, the more she could hear it.
There was a noise.
It was an odd grinding noise which occurred in the background, just faint enough no to overrun the melody but loud enough to make itself known. It sounded like that soft groan made by a person being awoken from a long dream.
Paranoia sighed and set the box down.
It was broken. Just her luck to win a defective product.
She wrung her hands together as she stared at it a bit more. It would be such a shame to throw it out, given how beautiful it was. Paranoia contemplated her options as she sat back on the couch and resumed her ice cream consumption. Her stomach rolled over the top of her pajama bottom and rolled into her lap. Her round, flabby breasts overflowed her top. But after a few minutes that didn’t seem to matter as she felt herself transfixed by the sight of the music box.
It was broken, but it was so beautiful.
Maybe the damp had warped the wood or had caused the mechanism to stick a little. Water proofing was the problem with these vintage items which had been made during a simpler time. She placed a spoonful of ice cream into her waiting mouth and reached for the music box again. She rested it atop the shelf of her upper belly and stared at it between the great valley of her breasts before giving the key another few turns.
The sound which resounded did indeed grow clearer in her mind as the tinkling of bells gave way to the grand orchestra of her imagination. The grinding noise had faded, just like she predicted as the sweetness of its melody flooded her senses. A gentle caress of a warm summer’s night touched her body as the swirling motif turned back on itself as though slowly encasing her in unseen tethers.
Unbeknownst to her, those tethers wanted to keep her in place. Everywhere her body had grown rounder and softer as she listened. Her stomach rolls deepened and her bra-less breasts surged forward. The faint grinding began to change as it spread across the notes and steadily grew louder.
Paranoia was completely transfixed as she continued to turn the key. Vibrant colors of shiny green and muted silver danced, twinkled and sparkled before her closed eyes in spite of the sharp fall of the keys across the music box’s prickly internal cylinder. She could just imagine each jagged pin catching every hollow note, every trembling sound, every yank of the-
The grinding became a groan.
Paranoia froze with her eyes wide open as a cool breeze fluttered about her backside. Her expression was one of puzzled bewilderment as she looked down to see the ends of the elastic which encircled her belly. This came as a surprise as the pajamas she wore on these ice cream days were extra stretchy, enough to encircle her thick belly with enough wiggle room for leaning and laying down.
She had grown plumper. At least another thirty pounds had crept onto her figure without her even realizing as she struggled to inspect the damage. An enormous hole ran down the backside of her pajama pants where her ass had clearly parted its way through. Her hips had grown round and ripe and left an impression similar to a tomato ready to burst as her bright red, silken panties lay in clear sight. But that was not what struck her as odd. The jagged tear that framed them seemed unnatural, as though violently torn asunder by an unseen claw which sunk into her flab. Its very contact only seemed to explode with fatness.
Paranoia’s hands glided over her new rolls as she pinched inches of wherever she could lay her hands on. Her skin was still smooth but had the tautness of having grown so round and thick. The couch groaned beneath the added weight as the rest of her clothing felt the pinch. The spoon fell from her mouth and sunk into the back cushion of the couch.
The music box tumbled from her grasp and fell on its side, with its lid splayed open. Paranoia looked hard for anything unusual she might have found like a hidden camera or a tape recorder. She was disappointed to find that it was mostly hollow except for the tiny mechanism of springs and cogs which generated the tune. Disbelief gave into fear as even as it lay on its side, the key began to turn and the groaning of the music box emerged once more.
Instead of those warm feelings of her childhood gone past, there was a more visceral feel to the tune as it only continued to speed up. The groan was now far more audible, eventually evolving into a more feminine moan with every turn of the key. An utter feeling of exposure danced upon the whirlwind of unison notes of unvarying and unremitting tempo feeding into an enigmatic stream of musical consciousness. That visceral and gut wrenching sound lay her bare as though trying to humble her beneath the crashing waves of its notes and it aimed to do so through her own gut.
Her belly sprung forth and immediately started to grow larger. The contents of her pajama pants blossomed and stretched, first into a sharp creaking sound before her belly drooped further over her thighs. It was soon followed by a chorus of rips and tears as the invisible claws dug and scratched away at her swelling thighs and legs, making more room for her enormous hips and ass.
This had to stop. With her butt cheeks now reaching into the realms of two sumptuous orbs of flesh, Paranoia thrust her weight over her thighs to seize the wretched box before it could make her any fatter still. In those precious few seconds, the moans had worked whatever dark magic they possessed and had filled her thighs to capacity with so much added plumpness that they had nearly prevented her from toppling over. The extra push came from the added weight of her rapidly ripening breasts which threatened and strained against her top buttons.
There had to be some mistake. Paranoia gripped the music box between now much pudgier fingers and shook it violently. She made an extra careful effort to keep the turning key well within her grasp. Its hourglass shaped match her own, a grim irony lost in the swirling emotions and thoughts that coursed through her mind as she wrestled with all that had just transpired. She was fat for sure now as her body struggled to contain the much larger gain. Nearly three hundred pounds was her estimate within mere seconds, something which would turn a plump girl into a truly obese young woman with extremely mouth-watering assets. Her ass was huge, smooth and perfectly ground. Her breasts, still lovely and perky, stretched her top out so much that what once covered her belly now hung lazily around her mid nipple. Pale, vanilla skin coursed between the gap of her clothing to form a ponderous, protruding belly. She plunged her index finger into the deep cavern of her navel.
Her cheeks and face had also plumped up considerably, just rounding out her features enough that anyone might consider her cute if she allowed her bangs to grow down the side. A second chin had formed, framing her from underneath. Her upper arms had swelled out to a similar consistency as the throw pillows that lined her cushion and had just started to roll over and dimple her elbows. From quite chubby to unmistakably fat, they jiggled as she felt herself begin to tremble.
Paranoia scrabbled for the ice cream container with her free hand. The customer service number had to be there somewhere. She squeezed it and unwittingly spilt a surge of frothy cream and chocolate over the side to cover it up. Her tongue darted out faster than she could think as she slurped down the residue, making sure the blue and white number was clear as day. Now all she needed was her phone and she could call for help.
The phone was on the kitchen counter, several feet away.
Urgency bid her to rise but she buckled beneath the strain. Her untrained muscles were not used to carrying so much extra weight and buckled beneath her size. Paranoia tried again only to flail about helplessly as she thrust her overflowing breasts forward. The very act sent several buttons scattering in different directions as her belly surged ahead of her thighs. Without an ounce of feminine grace, she hoisted her much plumper self unsteadily to her feet. Flabby arms gripped the couch for support all the while being very careful to keep the music box key firmly gripped between her fingers. What paranoia hadn’t counted on was the music box continuing to spin freely as she separated it from the fold over her belly.
A deafening moan was now all that remained as it corrupted the once sweet and gentle song. It chilled her to the bone and channeled and experience of utter exposure as though she had been flayed in the street with her entrails picked over by wild birds. From grand, stately and resolute to intimidating and ghostly, the powerful mix of voice and music flurried through her ears at such a pace to rapidly fill her body with fat at an exponential rate.
Paranoia grew even fatter. If she thought she was big already, the music box would see her anorexic compared to mere moments ago. Fat poured around her as she steadily rocketed towards the three-hundred-fifty-pound mark only to shoot by it just as fast. The shoulders of her pajama top silently gave way amidst the great din, splitting apart like the shedding of a second skin as Paranoia’s metamorphosis accelerated further. Every fold and roll of her flab laden body was lay bare to see as her arms swallowed her elbows in a ridge of jiggling softness. Rolls of thigh flesh bulged and rolled against one another as the rapidly diminishing space between her knees was consumed in added obesity making it harder and harder to make her way forward. They slapped against her great belly as it continued to sag over her waistline like slow magma as every inch of her belly was filled as a counterbalance to her overloaded ass.
As Paranoia reached the four-hundred-pound mark, it was becoming clearer to her that something was filling inside of her. She felt so full, as though she had chugged the entire carton of ice cream and then some. Her belly, whilst still very soft and doughy on the surface, was rapidly hardening with whatever was filling her up from within. As the music box groaned and moaned its dark tune, Paranoia could feel her gut expanding as her body re-proportioned itself with more weight added by the second. Rounder and rounder she became, making her feel ill as her innards were pumped with a phantom substance that worked its way into her immense breasts as her belly continued to strain.
The music box had to be stopped. The weight was growing too much for her body to handle. Almost double her original size, she had grown from plump to fat to obese at such a rapid pace that it was hard to believe she had been so much smaller only a few minutes ago. She gripped the music box hard and buried it in the folds of her full to bursting belly. The added pressure nearly made her sick as she cupped her hands across her mouth. A white sticky substance, oozed between her lips. It was melted ice-cream. Disgusted but still fearful of what might happen she forced herself to swallow the regurgitated mess and reached out for the phone.
Her fingers had fattened up too and uselessly mashed against the screen of her smartphone. She tried again, trying to balance the music box and its key against her swollen belly as she tried to redial. Everything was taut and her massive breasts trembled before her. She was trembling even more now, but not out of fear, but rather because she was cold.
Paranoia shivered and placed the phone between her breasts as she wrapped her flabby arms around as much of her naked self as she could together with the music box. It didn’t help as she felt the icy touch emerge from the metallic motifs along the music box’s side. It was freezing but she knew all too well what would happen if she were to ever let it go. At the same time, the pressure continued to build inside of her, making her feel ill as her swollen gut continued to round out to her knees.
She just had to get to call the company. They would be able to fix this. With teeth chattering, she almost groaned with joy as Paranoia punched in the last number. Her happiness was short lived as she maneuvered the receiver up her flabby neck and pressed her ear against her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, our offices are currently unattended. Please call back during post-Christmas hours and leave a message after the-”
The strength left her fingers as she momentarily forgot about the key still wiggling between her fingers. Paranoia wanted to scream. The feminine moaning resumed at full force this time, coming not from the music box but from out of her own mouth.
Paranoia’s body rapidly swelled; her breasts filled and sagged from the weight; her hips widened further. The melted ice cream bubbled at the back of her throat as her stomach contents were swiftly converted to fat and she was helpless to stop it. Her belly continued to push out and eventually touched the living room floor as she reached six hundred pounds. Her screams melded with the music sped up to a demonic pace as fatness swelled every part of her body. Her feet and toes plumped, her belly was a mass of jiggling fat which only served to push her gargantuan breasts to either side. Her legs collapsed beneath her thanks to the sheer weight, causing her to ripple in every direction as her ass plumped fatter and fatter like a helpless blimp.
She clapped her hands across her mouth and allowed the music box to fall to the floor. It skidded across the tiles and came to a stop by the front door. Soundless, she felt her cheeks bulge with the screams and moans she had wanted to let loose but dare not lest she continued to fatten. Melted ice cream began to build up inside of her again as she watched in horror as her breasts swelled and swelled, eventually dribbling the same white, creamy goo which she had feasted on only a few hours ago. She let out an internal sigh, taking some small comfort in knowing that the pressure was going to abate.
It did not.
She opened her mouth for a moment only to find her voice now matched the atrocious moaning which had accompanied the music box whose key had begun to turn on its own. Paranoia recognized that noise. It was the groan of a woman stuffed to capacity, the cry of someone so full that they only wanted a moment’s rest to digest their enormous meal. Her already-fat places only grew fatter as she swelled with extra pounds, forcing her legs to either side of her enormous belly and her arms nearly perpendicular to her frame. She could hardly bend her elbows against the plushness of her breasts and instead relied on forcing her now triple chin against her cleavage to keep her mouth shut.
The dribble flowed harder and faster as the pressure within her body increased. Feed herself or fatten up; Paranoia had to make a choice. If she kept her mouth shut her breasts would become the largest ice-cream dispenser in the world, but if she said a word, she would most likely continue to fatten up to well beyond a ridiculous size. She was already immense but there was no sign of anything abating. Time was growing short as the dribble from her breasts transformed into a jet of melted ice cream, eventually spraying out like a garden hose.
She opted to do neither and cried instead.
Somewhere outside, the storm outside came to an end.
On the table, the rest of Paranoia’s ice cream had melted.