~BBW, Eating ~MWG - Amanda eats her way to happiness by taking advantage of a desperate situation.
[Author's Note: I have been writing for a while, and this same story has appeared both on Mollycoddle's website and my own page on Deviant Art (link), but this is my first attempt at posting, well, anything on Dimensions. This story was only a one-shot idea of mine, written a few years ago; I hope you all enjoy :happy:]
Sunlight streamed lazily through thin curtains and onto the apartment floor, casting swatches of light over the cheap furniture filling the great room. Amanda stirred as the beams of light drifted their way over her eyes. Groggily at first she stirred, and then at last and somewhat reluctantly she turned over on the couch, causing a soft rustling on top of her abdomen. She turned her copper eyes to the greasy box and the crumbling remnants of pizza crust within it that lay haphazardly across her torso.
As she sat up, she let it slide off of her and onto the floor with a dull thump, spilling cold sauce and crumbs over the worn carpeting. Amanda brushed her matted amber hair from her eyes and glanced, still only semi-consciously, over her wrinkled tank top and began to sweep the stale crumbs off of her body. She pulled herself fully upright, yawning, and spied a bit of crust with a pepperoni still clinging to it that had slipped from the box onto her left thigh and picked it up, quizzically.
She swung her shapely legs off of the couch and leaned back into it, still pondering the slice she held in her fingers. Then, shrugging, she popped the crust into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed; hey, why let perfectly good food go to waste? And beside, she hadnt even had breakfast yet. Speaking of which .
Amanda heaved herself up stiffly and drew her arms skyward for a full body stretch, arching her back and stretching absentmindedly in a feminine, feline grace. Ah, breakfast! The thought brought a smile to her face.
Suddenly overcoming her former sloth, Amanda strolled leisurely into the tiny alcove that she was forced to call a kitchen. Opening a few cabinets, she reached for the first thing within reach: cereal. She somehow managed, just like every morning, to perform a master-class degree of balance and juggling in order to get the bowl, spoon, juice glass, and box of Lucky Charms--well, not Lucky Charms exactly, but a comparable bargain brand--in one trip before going to the refrigerator for milk and juice.
After pouring herself a bowl and raising the first spoonful to her mouth, she impulsively thought better of it and retrieved a box of donut holes from the counter before plopping eagerly back into her shambled, peeling chair. This was all Amanda really needed, after all, she reflected as she spooned the cereal into her mouth, tasting the sugar coated bites and marshmallows mingling with the sweet glaze of the spongy donuts.
Amanda never was the type for college and the like. She was already enrolled in a secretarial school, and that was more than enough for her. It didnt bother her one bit that her apartment was small and cheap; its not as if she really used it for all that much anyway. The smaller and cheaper the better; all it meant was less work for her to do around the house. Who did she have to impress with big rooms and extravagant belongings? The only thing that her, or in her humble opinion anybody elses for that matter, apartment was good for was eating and sleeping--especially both together--in that order.
Amanda had never been that big of a girl and the thought never even crossed her mind as a possibility--why would it?--and at that particular moment it didnt make all that much difference to her. The most she cared to improve her physical appearance were those endeavors which required little to no effort on her part to effect. Despite her limited income, to say the absolute best of its merit, Amanda found it of the utmost importance, for example, to spend no less than five hours in tanning salons per week, leading her skin to be a silky bronze over every inch of her body, much to the disapproval of the salon managers when they found her all-overing in their public beds.
After tilting the remnants of the milk from her morning repast to her lips and swallowing it in one long draught, Amandas left hand moved reflexively to her abdomen to rub down the satisfying fullness as her right plucked one of the few remaining pastries from the dwindling supply in the box and placed it into her mouth.
While she chewed and swallowed, her hand moved up and down her stomach contentedly, feeling the unremarkable layer of softness enveloping it which would be considered by no one to be anything more than the structure of the natural feminine form.
Several moments into her leisure, Amandas mind began to churn back into the wakefulness; hmmm now what was it that she had to do today?
A quick glance toward the couch encompassed the pizza boxes scattered about it in various states of decay reminded her of her bi (or tri sometimes quadruple) weekly resort to her favorite restaurant in the world: the Pizzeria Via Roma. Real Italian pizza with all the sauce, cheese, meats--but mostly cheese--that a girl could ever want and, consequentially, had as often as her budget would allow. But no longer.
Today Amanda was going for broke: her rent was coming due in a week or two (she couldnt quite remember which) and she could have unlimited access to the best pizza this side of heaven. All she had to do was one, simple job interview. If there was anything in this world that Amanda knew how to do, it was being a cashier.
So, Ms. Bellman; youre here about the position we have available? asked the perky, middle aged woman that sat behind the desk in the cramped office at the rear of Pizzeria Via Roma.
Um said Amanda, a little uncertainly, yeah sure. You guys need a cashier or something, right?
Yep, said the woman cheerily, sure do. Lets just have a look at your resume here, shall we? She glanced over the crinkled paper for a moment as Amanda blinked silently with a vacant expression from the tiny chair opposite the desk.
Oh, my! exclaimed the woman, excitedly. Well, you certainly do have a wealth of experience in this department, dont you?
Yeah, said Amanda, shrugging, I guess.
Still smiling, the woman said, Well, why dont you just scurry on out into the restaurant and Ill come and get you after I speak with the manager, okay?
Standing, Sure, said Amanda, thats fine.
The woman hopped out of her chair and exited through a barely accessible door at the rear of the office, and Amanda squeezed out into the lunch-rush crowded lobby of the little restaurant. The pizzeria wasnt much to look at from the inside: only a few tables crowded into a small dine-in area, a faded orange counter to pick up and pay for orders; but that didnt matter.
As Amandas living space proudly testified, the vast majority of Via Romas profit came not from eat-in diners, but rather from deliveries and takeout orders.
Amanda hurried into an unpadded chair in the far corner of the room, a rare vacancy in the small but prosperous business. She sat there alone until she began to doze, watching the crowd of people constantly flowing in and out in a hurried blur. Just as she began to nod off, her interviewer returned briskly.
Hello there, miss! Miss? Amanda jerked her flushed face up to see the woman standing over her, holding her resume out for her to take. This did not bode well.
Congratulations, Ms. Bellman! Youve got the job. Amanda, wide eyed and relieved took the proffered paper and stood to shake the womans eager hand.
Wow, she said listlessly, still half asleep, thanks.
Oh, golly no--dont thank me. Thank your new boss!
Oh right. Where is he? Er I mean, when does he assign me my hours?
Ah, well about that. Mr. Giuspelli has requested that you come up to his apartment for that; he says its always too busy down here to ever get any real work done! Hoo hoo! Isnt that funny, dear?
Amanda laughed halfheartedly.
Ooh hoo now, anyway; its that staircase over there on your left, she said, pointing appropriately, see it right there, dear? Good! Off you go now.
Amanda hesitated; this didnt seem quite right to her. Hey, wait. Doesnt it seem kinda weird to you? Has he always done this with all of his new employees?
The woman looked puzzled, and then grinned from ear to ear. What, hon, you mean me? Oh gosh no; how would I know? Mr. Giuspelli just called my agency last week; Im just a temp dear. All I was supposed to do was look you over and check your resume.
Oh was Amandas only reply. This was getting a little weird for her taste. Nevertheless, Amanda thanked the woman for her help and watched her wave and wish her good luck through the shrinking strip of light as Amanda closed the door behind her and began her ascent of the staircase.
Amanda blinked as she entered the dark stairwell, her only light being the dim red glow of an Exit sign buzzing somewhere above her. From the street it had appeared to Amanda that the apartment was only one floor above the busy shop (she could still smell the pizzas baking, the smell wafting under the door), but as her eyes adjusted to the light, or lack thereof, she could see that the stairs were somewhat longer than she had expected. They doubled over themselves twice, making the climb uncomfortably low and narrow as she cautiously scaled the steps.
When she reached the top, Amanda found herself staring at a heavy metal door much like the kind she had seen at the rear entrances to movie theaters that she had many times used to sneak in for free. There was a large dead bolt above a plunger handle that opened by swinging it a quarter of the way around its hinge. Cozy. Riveted into the top of the door was a metal plate that read A. D. Giuspelli.
Amanda placed her hand on the handle of the door separating her from her new job and apparently unusual new boss; there was no light coming through the bottom of the door. It was sealed against anything from the outside; this guy must really like his privacy, thought Amanda. Taking a deep breath, she slowly turned the handle and opened the door to find nothing, no one.
Inside was a rather plain looking apartment; not so much unlike her own. It was a little less threadbare, perhaps, but strikingly similar in its utilitarian design to Amandas little home. There was an obviously cheap beige couch in the middle of the room, a few end tables and a coffee table in front of the couch, and a floor lamp adding the small amount of light that filled the deserted room--the overhead light was not on.
The carpeting was equally drab but felt soft underfoot. Around the corner of a short hall at the rear of the room Amanda could see another, smaller room. It was apparently the bedroom by the looks of the neatly made queen sized mattress visible through the doorframe--one without a door in it.
Feeling all of a sudden quite alone, Amanda began to explore the apartment. It didnt take her too long: the only other room was a bathroom connected through the bedroom adorned with only a combination shower-tub, a modest commode, sink, and a small closet with a scale under its lowest shelf. It was stocked with what looked to be many weeks supply of towels, tissues, and other toiletries. Nowhere was her would-be employer.
Even stranger, or so it seemed to Amanda, was the apparent lack of every homes most important room: the kitchen. Thoroughly puzzled, Amanda walked back into the main room and noticed something else that she had not before. A large rectangular section of the rooms right wall seemed to have slid open. She leaned her head into it for a closer look at what turned out to be an oversized dumbwaiter, and sitting neatly folded on the raised platform was a sheet of paper with a single word printed on the outside: Amanda.
She picked it up, becoming more and more confused by the second, but as she unfolded it, her awe turned quickly to shock. Written very neatly in hand writing she had never seen, Amanda read:
Amanda dropped the note back on the tray and raced to the door, slamming down on the handle, only to find that it wouldnt budge. She tried again and again, hammering on it with her fists and kicking like mad, screaming for help that would neither hear nor come.
Exhausted, Amanda went to plan B: windows--the apartment had two, and if she couldnt climb out, she could definitely yell for help. She yanked open the first set of curtains and her face fell; the glass was blacked out and the barred. Try as she might, she couldnt wedge it open and there was nothing strong enough to break the glass and thin enough to fit through the bars anywhere in the apartment: Amanda was well and truly trapped.
Slowly, she slumped into the couch, tears welling in her eyes. She was just about to break down when she heard a squeaking coming from her right. The dumbwaiter had disappeared and reappeared; only this time it was carrying a steaming pizza box and a bottle of soda.
Amanda didnt even bother to open the box. She stormed to an end table and rummaged through its drawer. She found inside it a single pen. She stomped back to the dumbwaiter and scrawled on the lid Screw you and your darned pizza!!!
She slammed the door down on the dumbwaiter and heard it creak away. She stood panting in rage for a few minutes, and then heard the platform coming back up to her. The door slid open and the same pizza and soda sat on the tray. Under Amandas message was a single neatly written word: Maybe.
Amanda spent the rest of the day sitting with her back against the impenetrable door, staring at the floor. Eventually, she grew drowsy, turned off the lamp, and went back to her post to fall gradually into a dead sleep.
When she awoke, Amandas only indication that it was morning was an old digital clock sitting on the bedside table in the bedroom proclaiming 8:13 down the hall in its blocky red numerals. She felt like she had just woken up from a nightmare, but a quick glance at her surroundings told her that it was all very real. Amanda rose slowly, stretching and popping out the kinks from her uncomfortable nights rest.
The living room was exactly as she had left it the night before with only one, slight difference: last nights pizza had been replaced by a fresh one, the soda by a carton of juice, and with the addition of short glass. Along with this was a neatly folded change of clothes; nothing fancy, just a t-shirt, shorts, and underwear. Amanda checked their tags; they were her size.
Amanda was quickly made aware of another problem: she was ravenously hungry. It didnt take her long to come to a conclusion--she hadnt eaten since breakfast yesterday--she didnt know exactly what was going on here, but she wasnt going to think any more clearly by starving herself.
She opened the box and practically inhaled the delicious aroma that it poured forth. The pizza was pepperoni, her favorite. Somehow, that didnt surprise her.
Gingerly, she picked up one of the slices and brought it to her nose; it certainly smelled alright. She nibbled the end and rolled it around on her tongue; it tasted fine, too. Hungry enough to take the chance, Amanda took a bite then another and another until she had finished the piece. Well, she wasnt dead yet, but now she was thirsty.
Amanda poured herself a glass of juice and, after a small sampling, drank it dry. Her thirst sated, Amanda chose another slice from the excellent selection within the greasy cardboard, this time sure that it was not going to harm her. She did this again with her third and managed to choke down a fourth and another glass of juice before considering herself full.
That mild distraction dissipated, Amanda turned her focus to the clothes that she had tossed onto the couch. Amanda turned them over in her hands; they were simple: a yellow top, black nylon shorts, and a white bra and panties, nothing special, nothing spectacular, everything on which she would bother to spend her own money. Looking around, Amanda thought it best not to change her clothes right in the middle of the room; who could say what kind of person was probably watching her at that very moment. So, taking them into the bedroom, she brought them into the bathroom with her for her next logical choice, taking a shower; something that she could not long avoid.
Once inside, Amanda gave the room the thrice over, peering into every corner, standing on the toilet to inspect the ceiling, tracing every inch of the wall, even the piping of the shower head, but the bathroom, just like the rest of the apartment, was completely sealed off from the outside world. Confident in her privacy, Amanda bathed for over an hour, letting the warm water wash over her soft skin and trying her very best to relax.
When she was tired of the rhythm of the falling water, Amanda climbed out of the shower and changed into her new clothes, carefully laying her old ones in an empty corner of the linen closet.
She walked back into the living room and sat in the couch. Then, she waited. She waited for anything, anyone to do something, send her something to do, to while away the hours; there was no television, no magazines, no books, nothing. So there she sat, helpless and going mad with boredom for what seemed like an eternity. She twisted positions, flipping and flopping all over the couch, clutching the cushions or throwing them across the room, but nothing lasted more than a few seconds.
Eventually, her numb gaze fell upon the pizza still sitting in the chute and she moved to it. Picking up a slice in her hand, she bit off the end; it was cold, but it was still delicious. Taking the slice back to the couch, she slowly nibbled away at her excitement until she had eaten it all.
She sat up, then, just as bored but now realizing that she was hungry, just as hungry as before, maybe even more than before. She grabbed another piece and brought it to the couch, not wanting to bring the box just to give herself more to do. She ate this one a little faster than before, but still trying to go slowly to take as long as possible.
Her little ritual of boredom carried on until the box was empty. She picked up the carton of juice and drank its remnants, then closed the door of the dumbwaiter, disgusted that she had eaten the entire pizza in less than two hours. What was worse, she didnt even feel full, and even if she was, she doubted that she was awake enough to notice. She slumped, listless, back into the couch and stared at the ceiling, trying to count the little nodules poking down at her.
She didnt get too far. In only a few minutes she heard a squeaking sound and drew her tired gaze over to the dumbwaiter. On its platform was another steaming box and a liter bottler of soda. Confused, Amanda got up to look into the bedroom and saw the clock her clock. It read 12:02. Lunch. Amanda groaned quietly to herself.
Amanda let an hour pass in defiance before giving into her boredom. She grabbed the box from the dumbwaiter and opened it on the coffee table. One by one, minute by minute, she chipped away at its contents until it was empty and the bottle lay filled with nothing but air on the floor. It was only 3:46. Finding nothing else to do, Amanda did her best to try to fall asleep on the couch, which she did, but only for short bursts, waking up every ten minutes or so and thinking that hours must have passed, praying that they had, her prayers unanswered.
Six oclock dinner time. Not surprisingly it was the same as lunch, although the topping was a little enhanced, but Amanda forced herself to have no appetite. She picked herself up and slowly dragged her feet into the bedroom to try and fall asleep in a more usual fashion. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, lights out, under the sheets. Her stomach ached a little from all the food with which she had occupied herself for the past ten hours. She placed her hands on her stomach; it felt like there was something hard, way down in the pit of it; it felt that way to both to her hands and her heart.
Amanda woke up groggily but still considerably better rested than the previous day had found her. She had slept in her clothes, and both they and her hair were matted and sweaty. Her dreams had not all been pleasant. Looking around her, Amanda had to assure herself that she was still trapped in the little apartment. She moved to the living room and found her breakfast waiting for her, still warm in the box. It was pepperoni again, and, despite her situation, she found it hard to complain about her rations.
Along with the food there was another change of clothes, the same as before, and after showering, Amanda placed what she had worn the previous day on the tray and shut the door, listening to it creak away.
Amanda had not been as hungry as the day before, stopping herself at two slices to save more for later. She had made a resolution to herself during the night: no matter how bored, how desperate she became, Amanda would never ask for anything. No television. No radio. No books, magazines, music nothing. There was no way that she was ever going to take anything from this nutcase except food. She couldnt get around that. There was no way for her to be sure that he wouldnt just let her starve to death if she stopped eating, so why punish herself?
Amanda spent the rest of the morning on the couch, leaving only once to relieve herself. She stared at the ceiling again, tried to sleep, anything that she could imagine given her limited resources to entertain herself, but mostly she ate. Between every little dot in the ceiling, ever bat of her eyelashes, she took a small bite of the pizza until the slice was gone. Then, she took another piece from the box until it was empty. She managed to eek this out until ten thirty.
At noon, Amandas lunch arrived, the same as yesterdays, and her dirty clothes had apparently been taken away out of courtesy.
How terribly gracious, thought Amanda before beginning to gnaw away at her afternoon entertainment. Still full from the morning, Amanda didnt quite finish her meal, a few slices remaining, before dinner came. She whiled away the hours, now laying this way on the couch, now laying that, all the while continuing to snack on lunchs remnants and as much of dinner as her stomach, even in her boredom, would allow.
Her mind in a daze, and her stomach full beyond being comfortable, Amanda finally trundled into bed, already half asleep, near midnight.
Amanda woke slowly as the silent gnawing of her hungry stomach roused her from sleep. She opened her eyes and stared upward groggily. Getting her bearings, Amanda lifted herself upward and forcing a roll of flab to roll over the waistband of her substantially tighter underwear. Amanda had been in the apartment for over two weeks--she had lost track of the days exactly, but she was sure that at least two weeks had to have passed. Well, she was as sure about that as she was about anything else in her new home.
Amanda swung her legs over the side of the bed and her feet made a small thud as they contacted the floor. Amanda looked at her bare legs. They were closer together than she had remembered and thicker, too. Moving her eyes toward her torso, Amanda saw the little roll of flesh peeking out at her from under her shirt, red near its base from her panties waistband rubbing against it all night.
As she rose slowly, Amandas new companion disappeared, but her stomach protruded several inches and made her shirt stretch to accommodate it.
Just like every day before, Amanda found a carton of juice and a pizza waiting for her, piping hot. Amanda had gotten used to waking up closer to the time of her breakfasts arrival with each passing day. Taking the pizza with her, Amanda plopped down on the couch, making her new tummy pop out into the open once more. There was nothing to do now but sit, wait, and eat. Amanda, having found more room inside her stomach each day, put away four slices easily before her morning shower. Only this time, when Amanda attempted to don her shorts, she found them unbearable.
Unlike Amanda, her clothes had stayed the same size for as long as she had been in the loft; she still refused to contact her captor, and he had returned the favor in kind. When she pulled the shorts up to her waist, they, even with their elastic, squeezed her butt and thighs tremendously and made her stomach pooch out even more, rolling over the top of the waistband. Her shirt was pushed up a little, showing her still tanned--but with the color deteriorating rapidly back into her normal pinkish-white flesh--stomach to the base of her navel.
Amanda didnt notice this, all she cared for at the moment was the biting of the waistband of her shorts into her tender flesh, but she was far from ignorant of it. Amanda knew that with each passing day her body grew just a little bit heavier, not much, but over several weeks it had built up to what she guessed had to be a few dozen pounds.
Oddly, however, or so it seemed to her, she didnt really care. Normally she would have thought that if she had gained weight she would have cared a great deal, probably just from the difference that it made in her, not that she cared that much about her physical appearance. After all, who was there to see her now anyway?
Amanda had long ago abandoned the prospect that there was some secret peep hole or exit way into or out of her fully furnished prison cell; at least, not that she could ever find, and at that point Amanda had begun to harbor the philosophy that if anyone had gone through that much trouble to conceal some way of looking at her, then probably deserved to and were welcome to it.
It was sort of a backhanded compliment. No, Amanda had thought that if she would have cared about anything in regard to her weight, it would be that she would have to go through to trouble of accommodating her life to deal with her augmented weight if she ever gained any, but in such confined quarters virtually void of any sort of entertaining stimuli, there wasnt much to which she had to adjust at all. The only thing that bothered her was that waistband.
Taking off her shorts, Amanda returned to her pizza and spent the rest of the day alone with her confused thoughts and consolidated herself by filling her time and stomach with the delicious pizza.
[Author's Note: I have been writing for a while, and this same story has appeared both on Mollycoddle's website and my own page on Deviant Art (link), but this is my first attempt at posting, well, anything on Dimensions. This story was only a one-shot idea of mine, written a few years ago; I hope you all enjoy :happy:]
The Apartment
by Wetsobem
Sunlight streamed lazily through thin curtains and onto the apartment floor, casting swatches of light over the cheap furniture filling the great room. Amanda stirred as the beams of light drifted their way over her eyes. Groggily at first she stirred, and then at last and somewhat reluctantly she turned over on the couch, causing a soft rustling on top of her abdomen. She turned her copper eyes to the greasy box and the crumbling remnants of pizza crust within it that lay haphazardly across her torso.
As she sat up, she let it slide off of her and onto the floor with a dull thump, spilling cold sauce and crumbs over the worn carpeting. Amanda brushed her matted amber hair from her eyes and glanced, still only semi-consciously, over her wrinkled tank top and began to sweep the stale crumbs off of her body. She pulled herself fully upright, yawning, and spied a bit of crust with a pepperoni still clinging to it that had slipped from the box onto her left thigh and picked it up, quizzically.
She swung her shapely legs off of the couch and leaned back into it, still pondering the slice she held in her fingers. Then, shrugging, she popped the crust into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed; hey, why let perfectly good food go to waste? And beside, she hadnt even had breakfast yet. Speaking of which .
Amanda heaved herself up stiffly and drew her arms skyward for a full body stretch, arching her back and stretching absentmindedly in a feminine, feline grace. Ah, breakfast! The thought brought a smile to her face.
Suddenly overcoming her former sloth, Amanda strolled leisurely into the tiny alcove that she was forced to call a kitchen. Opening a few cabinets, she reached for the first thing within reach: cereal. She somehow managed, just like every morning, to perform a master-class degree of balance and juggling in order to get the bowl, spoon, juice glass, and box of Lucky Charms--well, not Lucky Charms exactly, but a comparable bargain brand--in one trip before going to the refrigerator for milk and juice.
After pouring herself a bowl and raising the first spoonful to her mouth, she impulsively thought better of it and retrieved a box of donut holes from the counter before plopping eagerly back into her shambled, peeling chair. This was all Amanda really needed, after all, she reflected as she spooned the cereal into her mouth, tasting the sugar coated bites and marshmallows mingling with the sweet glaze of the spongy donuts.
Amanda never was the type for college and the like. She was already enrolled in a secretarial school, and that was more than enough for her. It didnt bother her one bit that her apartment was small and cheap; its not as if she really used it for all that much anyway. The smaller and cheaper the better; all it meant was less work for her to do around the house. Who did she have to impress with big rooms and extravagant belongings? The only thing that her, or in her humble opinion anybody elses for that matter, apartment was good for was eating and sleeping--especially both together--in that order.
Amanda had never been that big of a girl and the thought never even crossed her mind as a possibility--why would it?--and at that particular moment it didnt make all that much difference to her. The most she cared to improve her physical appearance were those endeavors which required little to no effort on her part to effect. Despite her limited income, to say the absolute best of its merit, Amanda found it of the utmost importance, for example, to spend no less than five hours in tanning salons per week, leading her skin to be a silky bronze over every inch of her body, much to the disapproval of the salon managers when they found her all-overing in their public beds.
After tilting the remnants of the milk from her morning repast to her lips and swallowing it in one long draught, Amandas left hand moved reflexively to her abdomen to rub down the satisfying fullness as her right plucked one of the few remaining pastries from the dwindling supply in the box and placed it into her mouth.
While she chewed and swallowed, her hand moved up and down her stomach contentedly, feeling the unremarkable layer of softness enveloping it which would be considered by no one to be anything more than the structure of the natural feminine form.
Several moments into her leisure, Amandas mind began to churn back into the wakefulness; hmmm now what was it that she had to do today?
A quick glance toward the couch encompassed the pizza boxes scattered about it in various states of decay reminded her of her bi (or tri sometimes quadruple) weekly resort to her favorite restaurant in the world: the Pizzeria Via Roma. Real Italian pizza with all the sauce, cheese, meats--but mostly cheese--that a girl could ever want and, consequentially, had as often as her budget would allow. But no longer.
Today Amanda was going for broke: her rent was coming due in a week or two (she couldnt quite remember which) and she could have unlimited access to the best pizza this side of heaven. All she had to do was one, simple job interview. If there was anything in this world that Amanda knew how to do, it was being a cashier.
***
So, Ms. Bellman; youre here about the position we have available? asked the perky, middle aged woman that sat behind the desk in the cramped office at the rear of Pizzeria Via Roma.
Um said Amanda, a little uncertainly, yeah sure. You guys need a cashier or something, right?
Yep, said the woman cheerily, sure do. Lets just have a look at your resume here, shall we? She glanced over the crinkled paper for a moment as Amanda blinked silently with a vacant expression from the tiny chair opposite the desk.
Oh, my! exclaimed the woman, excitedly. Well, you certainly do have a wealth of experience in this department, dont you?
Yeah, said Amanda, shrugging, I guess.
Still smiling, the woman said, Well, why dont you just scurry on out into the restaurant and Ill come and get you after I speak with the manager, okay?
Standing, Sure, said Amanda, thats fine.
The woman hopped out of her chair and exited through a barely accessible door at the rear of the office, and Amanda squeezed out into the lunch-rush crowded lobby of the little restaurant. The pizzeria wasnt much to look at from the inside: only a few tables crowded into a small dine-in area, a faded orange counter to pick up and pay for orders; but that didnt matter.
As Amandas living space proudly testified, the vast majority of Via Romas profit came not from eat-in diners, but rather from deliveries and takeout orders.
Amanda hurried into an unpadded chair in the far corner of the room, a rare vacancy in the small but prosperous business. She sat there alone until she began to doze, watching the crowd of people constantly flowing in and out in a hurried blur. Just as she began to nod off, her interviewer returned briskly.
Hello there, miss! Miss? Amanda jerked her flushed face up to see the woman standing over her, holding her resume out for her to take. This did not bode well.
Congratulations, Ms. Bellman! Youve got the job. Amanda, wide eyed and relieved took the proffered paper and stood to shake the womans eager hand.
Wow, she said listlessly, still half asleep, thanks.
Oh, golly no--dont thank me. Thank your new boss!
Oh right. Where is he? Er I mean, when does he assign me my hours?
Ah, well about that. Mr. Giuspelli has requested that you come up to his apartment for that; he says its always too busy down here to ever get any real work done! Hoo hoo! Isnt that funny, dear?
Amanda laughed halfheartedly.
Ooh hoo now, anyway; its that staircase over there on your left, she said, pointing appropriately, see it right there, dear? Good! Off you go now.
Amanda hesitated; this didnt seem quite right to her. Hey, wait. Doesnt it seem kinda weird to you? Has he always done this with all of his new employees?
The woman looked puzzled, and then grinned from ear to ear. What, hon, you mean me? Oh gosh no; how would I know? Mr. Giuspelli just called my agency last week; Im just a temp dear. All I was supposed to do was look you over and check your resume.
Oh was Amandas only reply. This was getting a little weird for her taste. Nevertheless, Amanda thanked the woman for her help and watched her wave and wish her good luck through the shrinking strip of light as Amanda closed the door behind her and began her ascent of the staircase.
Amanda blinked as she entered the dark stairwell, her only light being the dim red glow of an Exit sign buzzing somewhere above her. From the street it had appeared to Amanda that the apartment was only one floor above the busy shop (she could still smell the pizzas baking, the smell wafting under the door), but as her eyes adjusted to the light, or lack thereof, she could see that the stairs were somewhat longer than she had expected. They doubled over themselves twice, making the climb uncomfortably low and narrow as she cautiously scaled the steps.
When she reached the top, Amanda found herself staring at a heavy metal door much like the kind she had seen at the rear entrances to movie theaters that she had many times used to sneak in for free. There was a large dead bolt above a plunger handle that opened by swinging it a quarter of the way around its hinge. Cozy. Riveted into the top of the door was a metal plate that read A. D. Giuspelli.
Amanda placed her hand on the handle of the door separating her from her new job and apparently unusual new boss; there was no light coming through the bottom of the door. It was sealed against anything from the outside; this guy must really like his privacy, thought Amanda. Taking a deep breath, she slowly turned the handle and opened the door to find nothing, no one.
Inside was a rather plain looking apartment; not so much unlike her own. It was a little less threadbare, perhaps, but strikingly similar in its utilitarian design to Amandas little home. There was an obviously cheap beige couch in the middle of the room, a few end tables and a coffee table in front of the couch, and a floor lamp adding the small amount of light that filled the deserted room--the overhead light was not on.
The carpeting was equally drab but felt soft underfoot. Around the corner of a short hall at the rear of the room Amanda could see another, smaller room. It was apparently the bedroom by the looks of the neatly made queen sized mattress visible through the doorframe--one without a door in it.
Feeling all of a sudden quite alone, Amanda began to explore the apartment. It didnt take her too long: the only other room was a bathroom connected through the bedroom adorned with only a combination shower-tub, a modest commode, sink, and a small closet with a scale under its lowest shelf. It was stocked with what looked to be many weeks supply of towels, tissues, and other toiletries. Nowhere was her would-be employer.
Even stranger, or so it seemed to Amanda, was the apparent lack of every homes most important room: the kitchen. Thoroughly puzzled, Amanda walked back into the main room and noticed something else that she had not before. A large rectangular section of the rooms right wall seemed to have slid open. She leaned her head into it for a closer look at what turned out to be an oversized dumbwaiter, and sitting neatly folded on the raised platform was a sheet of paper with a single word printed on the outside: Amanda.
She picked it up, becoming more and more confused by the second, but as she unfolded it, her awe turned quickly to shock. Written very neatly in hand writing she had never seen, Amanda read:
Hello, and may I say first of all, congratulations! From what I could see in your application, you display every quality that I ask of an employee
and a little bit more. As you may have already guessed, I am not in this loft, and there is to be no further job assignment. However, what I will ask of you is that you stay here until such a time as I see fit for you to leave.
There is no need to worry about bills or food, least of all the latter; this is after all, the apartment of a restaurant owner. Food will be sent up three times every day to start. If you require anything else or just want to say hello, simply leave a note with the dumbwaiter--youll find a pen and some paper in the table drawers. Thanks again for applying, and please enjoy your stay!
P.S. Go ahead and try all of the doors and windows if you must; youll find that they are each quite impassable.
Sincerely,
A. D. Giuspelli
There is no need to worry about bills or food, least of all the latter; this is after all, the apartment of a restaurant owner. Food will be sent up three times every day to start. If you require anything else or just want to say hello, simply leave a note with the dumbwaiter--youll find a pen and some paper in the table drawers. Thanks again for applying, and please enjoy your stay!
P.S. Go ahead and try all of the doors and windows if you must; youll find that they are each quite impassable.
Sincerely,
A. D. Giuspelli
Amanda dropped the note back on the tray and raced to the door, slamming down on the handle, only to find that it wouldnt budge. She tried again and again, hammering on it with her fists and kicking like mad, screaming for help that would neither hear nor come.
Exhausted, Amanda went to plan B: windows--the apartment had two, and if she couldnt climb out, she could definitely yell for help. She yanked open the first set of curtains and her face fell; the glass was blacked out and the barred. Try as she might, she couldnt wedge it open and there was nothing strong enough to break the glass and thin enough to fit through the bars anywhere in the apartment: Amanda was well and truly trapped.
Slowly, she slumped into the couch, tears welling in her eyes. She was just about to break down when she heard a squeaking coming from her right. The dumbwaiter had disappeared and reappeared; only this time it was carrying a steaming pizza box and a bottle of soda.
Amanda didnt even bother to open the box. She stormed to an end table and rummaged through its drawer. She found inside it a single pen. She stomped back to the dumbwaiter and scrawled on the lid Screw you and your darned pizza!!!
She slammed the door down on the dumbwaiter and heard it creak away. She stood panting in rage for a few minutes, and then heard the platform coming back up to her. The door slid open and the same pizza and soda sat on the tray. Under Amandas message was a single neatly written word: Maybe.
Amanda spent the rest of the day sitting with her back against the impenetrable door, staring at the floor. Eventually, she grew drowsy, turned off the lamp, and went back to her post to fall gradually into a dead sleep.
When she awoke, Amandas only indication that it was morning was an old digital clock sitting on the bedside table in the bedroom proclaiming 8:13 down the hall in its blocky red numerals. She felt like she had just woken up from a nightmare, but a quick glance at her surroundings told her that it was all very real. Amanda rose slowly, stretching and popping out the kinks from her uncomfortable nights rest.
The living room was exactly as she had left it the night before with only one, slight difference: last nights pizza had been replaced by a fresh one, the soda by a carton of juice, and with the addition of short glass. Along with this was a neatly folded change of clothes; nothing fancy, just a t-shirt, shorts, and underwear. Amanda checked their tags; they were her size.
Amanda was quickly made aware of another problem: she was ravenously hungry. It didnt take her long to come to a conclusion--she hadnt eaten since breakfast yesterday--she didnt know exactly what was going on here, but she wasnt going to think any more clearly by starving herself.
She opened the box and practically inhaled the delicious aroma that it poured forth. The pizza was pepperoni, her favorite. Somehow, that didnt surprise her.
Gingerly, she picked up one of the slices and brought it to her nose; it certainly smelled alright. She nibbled the end and rolled it around on her tongue; it tasted fine, too. Hungry enough to take the chance, Amanda took a bite then another and another until she had finished the piece. Well, she wasnt dead yet, but now she was thirsty.
Amanda poured herself a glass of juice and, after a small sampling, drank it dry. Her thirst sated, Amanda chose another slice from the excellent selection within the greasy cardboard, this time sure that it was not going to harm her. She did this again with her third and managed to choke down a fourth and another glass of juice before considering herself full.
That mild distraction dissipated, Amanda turned her focus to the clothes that she had tossed onto the couch. Amanda turned them over in her hands; they were simple: a yellow top, black nylon shorts, and a white bra and panties, nothing special, nothing spectacular, everything on which she would bother to spend her own money. Looking around, Amanda thought it best not to change her clothes right in the middle of the room; who could say what kind of person was probably watching her at that very moment. So, taking them into the bedroom, she brought them into the bathroom with her for her next logical choice, taking a shower; something that she could not long avoid.
Once inside, Amanda gave the room the thrice over, peering into every corner, standing on the toilet to inspect the ceiling, tracing every inch of the wall, even the piping of the shower head, but the bathroom, just like the rest of the apartment, was completely sealed off from the outside world. Confident in her privacy, Amanda bathed for over an hour, letting the warm water wash over her soft skin and trying her very best to relax.
When she was tired of the rhythm of the falling water, Amanda climbed out of the shower and changed into her new clothes, carefully laying her old ones in an empty corner of the linen closet.
She walked back into the living room and sat in the couch. Then, she waited. She waited for anything, anyone to do something, send her something to do, to while away the hours; there was no television, no magazines, no books, nothing. So there she sat, helpless and going mad with boredom for what seemed like an eternity. She twisted positions, flipping and flopping all over the couch, clutching the cushions or throwing them across the room, but nothing lasted more than a few seconds.
Eventually, her numb gaze fell upon the pizza still sitting in the chute and she moved to it. Picking up a slice in her hand, she bit off the end; it was cold, but it was still delicious. Taking the slice back to the couch, she slowly nibbled away at her excitement until she had eaten it all.
She sat up, then, just as bored but now realizing that she was hungry, just as hungry as before, maybe even more than before. She grabbed another piece and brought it to the couch, not wanting to bring the box just to give herself more to do. She ate this one a little faster than before, but still trying to go slowly to take as long as possible.
Her little ritual of boredom carried on until the box was empty. She picked up the carton of juice and drank its remnants, then closed the door of the dumbwaiter, disgusted that she had eaten the entire pizza in less than two hours. What was worse, she didnt even feel full, and even if she was, she doubted that she was awake enough to notice. She slumped, listless, back into the couch and stared at the ceiling, trying to count the little nodules poking down at her.
She didnt get too far. In only a few minutes she heard a squeaking sound and drew her tired gaze over to the dumbwaiter. On its platform was another steaming box and a liter bottler of soda. Confused, Amanda got up to look into the bedroom and saw the clock her clock. It read 12:02. Lunch. Amanda groaned quietly to herself.
Amanda let an hour pass in defiance before giving into her boredom. She grabbed the box from the dumbwaiter and opened it on the coffee table. One by one, minute by minute, she chipped away at its contents until it was empty and the bottle lay filled with nothing but air on the floor. It was only 3:46. Finding nothing else to do, Amanda did her best to try to fall asleep on the couch, which she did, but only for short bursts, waking up every ten minutes or so and thinking that hours must have passed, praying that they had, her prayers unanswered.
Six oclock dinner time. Not surprisingly it was the same as lunch, although the topping was a little enhanced, but Amanda forced herself to have no appetite. She picked herself up and slowly dragged her feet into the bedroom to try and fall asleep in a more usual fashion. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, lights out, under the sheets. Her stomach ached a little from all the food with which she had occupied herself for the past ten hours. She placed her hands on her stomach; it felt like there was something hard, way down in the pit of it; it felt that way to both to her hands and her heart.
Amanda woke up groggily but still considerably better rested than the previous day had found her. She had slept in her clothes, and both they and her hair were matted and sweaty. Her dreams had not all been pleasant. Looking around her, Amanda had to assure herself that she was still trapped in the little apartment. She moved to the living room and found her breakfast waiting for her, still warm in the box. It was pepperoni again, and, despite her situation, she found it hard to complain about her rations.
Along with the food there was another change of clothes, the same as before, and after showering, Amanda placed what she had worn the previous day on the tray and shut the door, listening to it creak away.
Amanda had not been as hungry as the day before, stopping herself at two slices to save more for later. She had made a resolution to herself during the night: no matter how bored, how desperate she became, Amanda would never ask for anything. No television. No radio. No books, magazines, music nothing. There was no way that she was ever going to take anything from this nutcase except food. She couldnt get around that. There was no way for her to be sure that he wouldnt just let her starve to death if she stopped eating, so why punish herself?
Amanda spent the rest of the morning on the couch, leaving only once to relieve herself. She stared at the ceiling again, tried to sleep, anything that she could imagine given her limited resources to entertain herself, but mostly she ate. Between every little dot in the ceiling, ever bat of her eyelashes, she took a small bite of the pizza until the slice was gone. Then, she took another piece from the box until it was empty. She managed to eek this out until ten thirty.
At noon, Amandas lunch arrived, the same as yesterdays, and her dirty clothes had apparently been taken away out of courtesy.
How terribly gracious, thought Amanda before beginning to gnaw away at her afternoon entertainment. Still full from the morning, Amanda didnt quite finish her meal, a few slices remaining, before dinner came. She whiled away the hours, now laying this way on the couch, now laying that, all the while continuing to snack on lunchs remnants and as much of dinner as her stomach, even in her boredom, would allow.
Her mind in a daze, and her stomach full beyond being comfortable, Amanda finally trundled into bed, already half asleep, near midnight.
Amanda woke slowly as the silent gnawing of her hungry stomach roused her from sleep. She opened her eyes and stared upward groggily. Getting her bearings, Amanda lifted herself upward and forcing a roll of flab to roll over the waistband of her substantially tighter underwear. Amanda had been in the apartment for over two weeks--she had lost track of the days exactly, but she was sure that at least two weeks had to have passed. Well, she was as sure about that as she was about anything else in her new home.
Amanda swung her legs over the side of the bed and her feet made a small thud as they contacted the floor. Amanda looked at her bare legs. They were closer together than she had remembered and thicker, too. Moving her eyes toward her torso, Amanda saw the little roll of flesh peeking out at her from under her shirt, red near its base from her panties waistband rubbing against it all night.
As she rose slowly, Amandas new companion disappeared, but her stomach protruded several inches and made her shirt stretch to accommodate it.
Just like every day before, Amanda found a carton of juice and a pizza waiting for her, piping hot. Amanda had gotten used to waking up closer to the time of her breakfasts arrival with each passing day. Taking the pizza with her, Amanda plopped down on the couch, making her new tummy pop out into the open once more. There was nothing to do now but sit, wait, and eat. Amanda, having found more room inside her stomach each day, put away four slices easily before her morning shower. Only this time, when Amanda attempted to don her shorts, she found them unbearable.
Unlike Amanda, her clothes had stayed the same size for as long as she had been in the loft; she still refused to contact her captor, and he had returned the favor in kind. When she pulled the shorts up to her waist, they, even with their elastic, squeezed her butt and thighs tremendously and made her stomach pooch out even more, rolling over the top of the waistband. Her shirt was pushed up a little, showing her still tanned--but with the color deteriorating rapidly back into her normal pinkish-white flesh--stomach to the base of her navel.
Amanda didnt notice this, all she cared for at the moment was the biting of the waistband of her shorts into her tender flesh, but she was far from ignorant of it. Amanda knew that with each passing day her body grew just a little bit heavier, not much, but over several weeks it had built up to what she guessed had to be a few dozen pounds.
Oddly, however, or so it seemed to her, she didnt really care. Normally she would have thought that if she had gained weight she would have cared a great deal, probably just from the difference that it made in her, not that she cared that much about her physical appearance. After all, who was there to see her now anyway?
Amanda had long ago abandoned the prospect that there was some secret peep hole or exit way into or out of her fully furnished prison cell; at least, not that she could ever find, and at that point Amanda had begun to harbor the philosophy that if anyone had gone through that much trouble to conceal some way of looking at her, then probably deserved to and were welcome to it.
It was sort of a backhanded compliment. No, Amanda had thought that if she would have cared about anything in regard to her weight, it would be that she would have to go through to trouble of accommodating her life to deal with her augmented weight if she ever gained any, but in such confined quarters virtually void of any sort of entertaining stimuli, there wasnt much to which she had to adjust at all. The only thing that bothered her was that waistband.
Taking off her shorts, Amanda returned to her pizza and spent the rest of the day alone with her confused thoughts and consolidated herself by filling her time and stomach with the delicious pizza.
