NUEVA GORDITA

[crazygary]

NUEVA GORDITA: CH 1

 

Austin, Texas, 1995

 

Graduation was the finish line as far as I was concerned. We were the type to smoke cigarettes at the south end of the courtyard. It wasn't technically allowed, whatever. I would pay LeeAnn Stevens $1.50 for math homework. High school was over now. It was all over. Now we could all be movie stars and fire fighters... right. 

 

Me? I was the girl who would wear a spaghetti strapped tube top and denim cutoffs. I was hot back then, so hot. I would get sent to the office and forced to wear a musty oversized sweatshirt. Funny thing, it might fit now, barely. I was hot shit back then, though. 

 

That's why I went out with Mike. That's why we fucked in his 300ZX. I gave him head at 80mph. After graduation, he said, "stay with me, Mari. We can make rent together. I love you." Stupid me jumped right on. 

 

While Mike started to make moves at the Jiffy Lube, I joined up with my older sister at Whataburger to pay my part. The first thing Tina told me was, "Don't touch this food, or you will get fat". I then glanced sheepishly at her flabby midsection. "What are you looking at?" said Tina, as she grabbed a generous handful of her stomach that was smaller last year.  She was right, though, but I would learn that lesson the hard way. 

 

Come to think of it, all of the ladies in my family are fat, some obese even. I had seen pictures in the albums of mom when she was young in Puerto Rico. She was thin and fashionable. Real pretty. Now she must be well over 200 pounds. Never imagined I could be bigger than her. 

 

I never really thought about weight. Food was never a big deal for me. I ate to live, where these days it seems I live to eat. Real short, only 5' 2", I only weighed a buck fifteen my senior year of High school. 

 

Like everyone at Whataburger, I gained around 20 pounds in my first six months on the job. Instead of rail thin, I was a more average weight for my height after that. I remember that I didn't mind too much since some of it went to my tits. They had always been a tad small for my liking. 

 

Mike didn't seem to mind, only he poked my new little tummy one time and asked how I was liking my job. I didn't feel like I was eating more than normal. 

 

As far as coworkers went, they were are girls around my age or a little older, fellow burn outs. Our creepo boss favored hiring the more bodacious of each years graduating class. No boys allowed, though. 

 

There was Vanessa, a glamorous chicana who liked big hoop earrings and chewing gum. She was a couple inches taller, but probably had a good 40 or so pounds on me. Sassy as hell, she was born to work a drive through. Her fat ass caught most of the flak from the burgers and fries, but her puffy stomach never met a chocolate milkshake it couldn't call a friend. 

 

Kathy, a read headed white girl, was the one on the flat top, flipping those delicious greasy cow meat pancakes. She always served a up "few" up for herself on the side. Her sizeable paunch was testament to that. It seemed to be her lifelong goal to work her way quickly up the ladder of whataburger uniform sizes. At what I would have guessed around 250 pounds or so those days, it was sometimes a bit hard to get past her in the cramped kitchen. 

 

Last, but not least, (well she probably was the thinnest of us back then) Gloria, a petite ebony princess, always had the finest. She only worked part time, mostly for the free food it was beginning to seem, but her pussy-whipped manlet Dale would give in to her every whim. Even though, she would talk self-consciously about her upward trending weight, she couldn't knock the cheeseburger out of her own hand. 

 

The Whataburger on Guadalupe Street, Austin, Texas, February 1996. 

 

It had been a long first year at Whataburger. I found it dull and had continued to slowly pack on the pounds. I don't think I really noticed. The rampant overeating of my coworkers and immediate family normalized this behavior and I still felt thin compared to all those fatties. 

 

Tina snuck up behind me grabbed my new little love handles. "Oink, oink girl!." I wasn't thrilled with this, "knock it off you fat slut." Tina frowned, "ouch, too far sis!" I'll admit it was harsh of me to snap. What was this new feeling of shame coming over me. I couldn't be fat, not me. "Seriously, how much do you weigh now? I told you to stay away from this crap," quipped Tina as she snagged a chicken nugget out of a customers order before gulping it down. "It's none of your business! Go away! Can't you see I'm busy here?" (I wasn't particularly). "Fine, whatever, girl." Then my fatter sister shuffled away toward the freezer. 

 

Tina's prodding got me thinking though, especially when my greasy boss Mr. Rizzoti reminded me that I needed to get an updated physical if I wanted "your damn commie health insurance" (his words) I hadn't weighed myself in ages (subconscious dread much?), but now the scale had me dead in its sights. 

[crazygary]

This is a little stub of a fic that I've been slowly working on for a while now for fun. I thought I'd post here for some feedback and opinions on if this is something y'all would enjoy seeing continued. 

Cheers!

[riptoryx]

Well, I'd like to see this continued.  The promise of unintentional, unwelcomed weight gain and humiliating role reversals sounds fun to me! 

[crazygary]

17 minutes ago, riptoryx said:

Well, I'd like to see this continued.  The promise of unintentional, unwelcomed weight gain and humiliating role reversals sounds fun to me! 

Thanks for the input. I have some ideas in store that I think might add a fresh twist on a typical premise like this. 

[riptoryx]

2 minutes ago, crazygary said:

Thanks for the input. I have some ideas in store that I think might add a fresh twist on a typical premise like this. 

Bring 'em on!

[crazygary]

I've been mainly writing this from the notes app on my phone, so it's rough, but as I continue I will make sure to go back and edit out any annoying grammar and what not. 

[crazygary]

CH. 2 

 

Driving back after my shift that day, I had one hand on the wheel, the other underneath my sweater, feeling up my tummy, poking and investigating, challenging my denial, finding fat, but saying no. 

 

Pulling into 1113 Arthur Stiles Road on robotic mode, the modest, neat, grey rambler had the light on. Home. 

 

"Hey, I'm home!" It was dim inside, but cozy, thick carpet, smelled like spices and food. Maybe abrupt to some, but it makes my mouth water. 

 

In the living room, the typical scene, Mom, Abuela, Tia's Alondra and Amanda, the regular gang of neighbour ladies, holding court over hands of brisca, ocho locos, and a titanic spread of... 

 

*Deep breath* banana fritters, cassava fritters, rice fritters, cod fritters, bacon cheese puff pasties, ceviche, beef empanada, fried cheese curds, and on and on. So, upset as I was, naturally I sat down for a few hours to stuff myself silly. 

 

In a bit of a stupor, who knows how many thousands of calories and a few rums later, I heaved my sluggish form down the hall to my room, collapsing heavily onto the water bed. 

[Jazzman]

This is  Great. Please continue!

[Guest vslppt1]

Like the pace of the story telling, the drive of the language (not sure I expressed this right, English not being my first language).

[Matt L.]

Quite enjoyable yarn you're producing.  I look forward to more.

[Guest Leeds]

This is great. Please continue.

[crazygary]

The sticky bedroom window opened and woke me. "Hey, weirdo! I've been paging you all night," whispered Mike loudly. I groaned in reply, expecting to sleep off my binge late into the next day. He slipped in bed next to me causing it to slosh. I groaned again, "Mike, you asshole! I'm trying to sleep here!" Laughing in response, Mike reached his arm around my middle, moving in close, big spoon. Squeezing my belly, he chuckled again. "I see this hasn't slowed down. You better be careful, Mari!" I cringed, " I'm only sort of joking you know?" different tone. 

 

Next, he manhandled me into position and fucked me doggie style. Sorry for the crude language, I mean, whatever. Then, he got off, wiped off, and slipped out into the night, cooing "You know, I won't fuck a cow Marisol!

My appointment was for 10:30AM. I was real stressed and dealt with it by hitting up the McDonald's drive-thru on the way to the doctor's. Three or four sausage egg mcmuffins sort of calmed me down, washing it down with a few of those little cartons of OJ. Geez, I was becoming such a pig.

 

 It was hard to avoid thinking about what Mike had said, and I was really, really dreading getting weighed, hoping to maintain my denial. I got to the office about five minutes late, bursting through the doors, frankly a bit out of breath. "Appointment for Marisol Arroyo." The stout old woman behind the desk frowned slight and gestured to her watch. "I'm really sorry, there was traffic." The receptionist softened, "It happens. Go down the hall to room 4 put, on a gown, and the doctor will be with you shortly. You have a little something on your chin by the way. I blushed and wiped a bit of Apple filling off my rounding face. 

[Guest Plus44-44]

Your writing style and subject is fantastic. I really hope you continue!

[crazygary]

** I apologize for the long delay. Here's some more. 

 

Room four was small, and pukey green. There was a diagram of human anatomy on the wall that reminded me of zombies. The bench was covered in paper, as they are, with a sad looking gown upon it. 

 

I unclipped the strained button of my "fat" jeans, and could finally take a nice deep breath, wiping some sweat from my forehead. Shimmying the too tight trousers down my thick thighs, I struggled to free myself from the denim confines. 

 

Naked, I slipped into the unsettling gown, and plopped into the observation table just as the knob turned. "For fucksakes!," I muttered under my breath. "Good morning! I'm Rachel! We're going to take your height and weight before Dr. Adams comes in. OK!?" 

 

Rachel was in my 12th grade English class, was she really pretending not to recognize me? "Step on the scale here please." Pure humiliation, what is my life? "Have you weighed yourself recently? It's helpful if I have a rough idea to balance the scale. "Hmm not really. I guess around 150 or so. I've put on a few pounds recently, I think."

 

Rachel moved the slide zeroing in on my number. I wondered how bad the damage would be. I never realized how bad it might be though. I guess I had a bad case of a river in Africa. "Well, you weigh 183 pounds." Woah. "Are you sure the scale is correct?", I blushed. Well, yes I calibrated it just this morning", Rachel responded in a matter of fact manner. "Okay, well Dr. Adams should be in here shortly", she said before screwing down her face for a moment and then raising her eyebrows in a look of recognition. "Something the matter?", I asked, sensing what was about to happen. "Oh sorry, I just realized that I did recognize you from somewhere. Your name sounded so familiar, but I couldn't place it." She then left the room. Had I really gotten so fat in a little over a year, that I was unrecognizeable?

[crazygary]

So, Rachel lived up to my memory of her being a total bitch. Could this ducking doctor just show up already? I was starting to fell really ashamed and stressed out. I grabbed a handful of my growing paunch and questioned how it had gotten this bad. Food had just begun to take over my life. Fat people were all around me, pressuring me to eat more, be like them. "It's ok, your so thin, I wish I could eat like you and be like that. Men like some meat on the bones." Crabs in a bucket. 

 

Finally, Dr. Adams made his appearance. "Now, Ms. Arroyo, I realize this might be difficult to accept, but I am very concerned with your weight." I gulped hard and looked down at the floor. This was a nightmare. He continued, "Looking at your charts, your last visit a little over a year ago, showed your weight to be 115 pounds, which at 5 foot 2 inches was a healthy weight, a BMI of 21, which is even a little on the low side. Now, at 183 pounds, your BMI is 33.5, an over 10 point increase, classifying you as medically obese. In addition, it appears that you tend to accumulate your excess weight mostly in your stomach and abdominal areas. Studies have suggested that this may be the most risky manifestation of obesity in terms of health problems.  Unsure of how to respond, I let out a nervous chuckle. This sounded so ridiculous. How could I be obese?

 

"I promise that this is no laughing matter Ms. Arroyo. You are young now, but if you don't manage your weight, there could very well be grave issues for you down the road. Now please, try to explain to me how you think it was you managed to gain 70 pounds in a year. I hope you can realize that is quite a lot of weight to add to a small frame like yours." I stumbled over my words, mentioned my job about Whataburger, my fat family and friends. Then I burst into tears. 

 

It was clear that Dr. Adams felt he had been a bit too harsh and he rushed to console me. "Now, Marisol, I hope you don't mind me using your first name, this is a problem that can be solved. What I want you to do is carefully track your intake of food to realize where these extra calories are coming from and how to avoid them. Also, I recommend you try to commit to some regular form of exercise to help shed these extra pounds. Let's meet again in six months to see that progress you made, ok?" I sniffled. I guess that sounded doable. 

 

Driving back from the doctor, I had one hand on the wheel while the other prodded and investigated my flabby body, pinching inches and coming to terms with my apparent "obesity." It just sounded so dramatic. Obese was my mom and aunties, obesity was my sister Tina who was looking fatter by the day, apparently content with completely letting go. Could I fix this, or would I just fall into the same pattern that everyone else seemed to see as normal?

[tasso007]

Very nice addition!

[crazygary]

Back after a long intermission...

my apologies 

-------------------------------------------

CH. 3

Well, tracking calories didn't last long for me. Trying to keep myself under 1500 was simply impossible. I was hungry, bored, and uncomfortable.  soon I was back to constantly grazing. I ate and ate for no reason, until I felt sick and then some more. I craved the comfort, and I'd rather not think about the obvious results of this behavior. Ignorance is bliss they say. 

Still I continued to feel ashamed of my burgeoning weight problem. I drowned out the little voice in my head with food and now alcohol too. Mike and I would hit up the bars nightly. Both working and living with our parents, we had money to burn. Mike loved the Jameson. I have always been a beer girl, so I threw back the cold ones one after another and stuffed my face with wings, nachos, pizza, late night tacos. Needless to say, this did not have a slimming effect my waistline. 

I remember one time, on shift at the restaurant, just as I was beginning to ignore some minor wardrobe malfunctions, Tina just had to prod me into reality. "Hola, chicharron!" She exclaimed pinching my undeniable love handles with her pudgy claws. I spun around, blushing, from my work loading the fry baskets. "Looks like you need a bigger shirt, sis," Tina remarked, slapping my plush gut, which I then noticed was peeking out slightly from below the hem of my uniform shirt. "Shut up! Perra puta!," I shot back. It was true, though. I was fat. 

Mike noticed too. We had less sex. I suspected he resented me for letting myself go like this, though he never said as much at first. Then one night, after another night of happy hour overindulgence, we were in Mike's room in the basement of his parents' ranch style rambler. I was feeling horny as we lay in bed watching MTV. Mike was zoned out on a Blur music video. We had just smoked some pot. 

"Come here, baby," I slurred in a wannabe sultry voice. I cuddled up next to him, running my hand down to his crotch. He didn't shrug me off, but made a conscience effort not to reciprocate. "Yeah, just a sec babe." My eyes were boring into the side of his head. I squeezed my hand. "Ok, ok Mari," Mike whined, pulling his undershirt over his head. I sat up as well, slipping off my old PE shirt I sometimes used to sleep in. Once oversized, this was getting real snug too.

Throwing the t shirt at the hamper, I turned back to look at Mike, surprised to find him studying my body with a critical expression. "Marisol, I'm disappointed. I mean, I'm sorry, but look at you." He moved toward me on the bed, pinching a generous portion of my wide stretch marked hips. "What is this, I love you, but I barely recognize you!" I cringed, suddenly self conscious, folding my arms in vain, to cover my bulging paunch. "Just how could you get so fat, Mari? You're ruined!" I died. 

"You need to get the fuck out, Mike!" I screamed, lurching clumsily off the bed, jiggling all over, to hurriedly reapply the too-small PE shirt. 

[crazygary]

CH. 4

Clothes shopping was constant, as seams split, zippers broke, and unwanted attributes began to further protrude. Elastic was my friend. In dressing rooms, I had plenty of time to examine the increasing poundage. My poor belly was starting double along my deep navel, pushing out farther, but there was nothing I could do. I just ate and ate, with my dimpled thighs rubbing near my knees. 

Whataburger's liberal employee meal privileges did not help my nearly nonexistent effort to trim down. I always made sure to stuff my fat face while on the clock. With Mike out of the picture, we hadn't spoken since the night of our fight, I now had absolutely no reason to worry about maintaining any sort of sex appeal. 

I felt bitter and angry with men in general. "They're so superficial!" I thought. "Mike doesn't deserve me," I would say to Tina as we sat in the Whataburger parking lot, drinking milkshakes and shoving down the last burgers of the day. Tina agreed, not having much luck with men either these days after her own substantial weight gain. "Men these days don't know how to handle a real woman!" she said gesturing to her overflowing figure.

 Tina's weight seemed to be plateauing a bit, as I rapidly caught up with her. We looked like two typical Puerto Rican chicas in their 20's, round and getting rounder each day. In accordance with our similar genetics, we both packed it on mainly in the stomach area, sporting matching belt busting guts that lapped down onto chunky thunder thighs. 

I was a hypnotized cog in the fast food clockwork, a loyal member of the team, just as addicted to the grease and fructose as our countless patrons. Being at the source had its own sinister benefits. 

Morning shifts began with a breakfast platter along with cream and sugar with a splash of coffee. Rinse and repeat until we closed the breakfast menu at 11. Then I would begin thinking about lunch, usually either two, or three patty melts, or as many cheeseburgers that I could shove down without being sick. Did I mention the endless fries?

You could say I was mainlining milkshakes. Even Tina couldn't keep up with my ambitious gluttony. "Damn, sis! A lo loco! Slow it down. Miércoles! You look like you're about to pop!" This is not something I wanted to hear. "Shut up, you really are one to talk. Eres la chica gorda!" I shrieked in retort, retreating to the walk-in to suck down my constant milkshake.

Before I could take three waddling steps, Mr. Rizzoti called out "Arroyo, get over here." I reluctantly shuffled over to the boss, dreading what I predicted he would say. 

"Time for physicals again, damn expensive insurance." Rizzoti proceeded to glance me up and down, "I suppose they'll need to adjust some figures." In return, I flashed him a glare, muttering "gilipollas" under my breath. "What was that, Arroyo?" The sweaty man snarled. "Never mind, just get it done, ok?" There was no choice for me. "Yeah, ok, fine, whatever." I sighed, returning to my patty melt and strawberry milkshake. "I'm on my break."

[crazygary]

CH. 5

Running late, as usual, I waddled my way down the sidewalk to the office suite. My damned car had broken down. I silently wished that Mike were still there to fix it up. Lining up with my luck as of late, the elevator was out of order. Cursing under my breath, still hot and tired from the bus and walk, I reluctantly hiked my fat ass up the two flights to Dr. Adams' office. Arriving exasperated, fanning my reddened face with a pudgy hand. 

The front desk lady gave me a hard time again. Sitting in the waiting room, I perused a Reader's Digest from 1987. When that fucking bitch Rachel walked in, I froze. She was chatting with another nurse, before noticing me. With a cunty little smirk, she whispered some bullshit to her equally lithe companion. Both laughing, I burned through their faces with my death glare. 

"Marisol Arroyo?" chimed a perky, care-free voice. "I can't believe she has the nerve to pretend not to recognize me!" I thought intently, as I followed Rachel's tight little white ass down the narrow door-lined corridor. 

"Here we are. Now, we've got to get your weight, ok?" Rachel gestured to the sinister looking medical implement. Silently cursing, I stepped on reluctantly. That bitch-ass nurse began eagerly to balance the slide, anxious to mark the damage, of course. Her nasty pleasure in seeing me even fatter than last time was clearly apparent to me. "There it is, 217.6." Looking on in horror, beside the obvious embarrassment, I just couldn't believe it had gotten this bad. It only made sense though, with the way I been making such a pig of myself for over a year now. 

In the examination room, I gave myself a quick exam of my own, waiting for doc Adams to make his appearance. 

It wasn't like I didn't already know it was bad, but let's be real, there was still a fair amount of denial at play here, as ridiculous as that sounds. I looked down to see my my big fat gut, with plenty of of stretch marks, poking out over the waistband of my panties. It was beginning to be an apron slipping down over my privates. My ass and legs had kept up as well, jiggly arms, fat face. Yeah, it was bad. 

A quick tap tap on the door and then the stately, grey Dr. Adams slid into the room, transitioning quickly into a dour and serious demeanor. "Ms. Arroyo, I see you have not taken heed of my advice, and have continued to put on weight at an alarming rate." My heart clutched in my chest, my worst nightmare, this was the embarrassment apocalypse of my life. The doctor continued, "In just over two years, you have quite astoundingly managed to put on over one hundred pounds! Or is it not so astounding, considering what I surmise your diet must consist of?" My face blanched. "So what do you have to say for yourself Ms. Arroyo?" The weathered blue eyes searched condescendingly for an answer they would not find, but already knew. I gulped before attempting a reply. 

[crazygary]

CH. 6

Driving home in a daze, I reflected on my train wreck of a check up. Learning that I now had a BMI of nearly 40, clearly continuing gung-ho into the further reaches of obesity, somehow failed to daze me. That Dr. Adams had always had it out for me, I thought. He simply didn't understand what a "real woman" looked like, I feebly rationalized. Sure, I now had a floppy gut, big smacking thighs, and a widening ass to match, but it just couldn't be as bad as he said. I mean, I was hardly even chubby compared to those around me. All these mental gymnastics worked up a healthy appetite and my doting mama made sure my belly was full to bursting with my favorite snacks before I slipped into a foggy sleep that night. It would take more than a cranky doctor's warning to slow down my weight gain to oblivion. 

With all the tilt O whirl, of my life cascading around me it was easy to overlook the developments of my second family. That is to say, my coworkers. When we last left off, I had hardly gotten around to mentioning them before I got so distracted, and all. Let's suffice to say they had been eating well. 

Vanessa, my Chicana amor was not a perky mami anymore. Don't get me wrong. Girl always had the junk in her trunk, but now all the junk going in her lippy little mouth was taking up permanent residence  on her not tall body. They had many neighbors in what was fast becoming a greater metropolitan area of Latina chunk. Lucky for my ego, Vanessa was still outpacing me in our helplessly unintentional quest for extra poundage. 
An uneducated guess would ballpark her around 260, a stone's throw in a milkshake pond for my apparent ambitions, but a slight height advantage on her part, put us evenly in the same fat camp.  

Maneuvering her oversized load about the cramped kitchen, with a modicum of grace that some fatties seem to inexplicably possess, Vanessa's face reddened with frustration at the threat of perspiration. "Dios Mio!" she huffed and puffed, leaning heavily into a counter, one pudgy hand on an overfed hip, the other absentmindedly sneaking under the hem of an orange polo to rub an overstuffed tummy. The sloppy tub still recovering from the morning feast the girls all partook in before the opening of morning shifts. 

[crazygary]

These all to frequent displays of reckless abandon in regards to the gross embezzlement of Whataburger product by us employees seemed to go miraculously 
unnoticed by management. I had a pet theory that Rizotti preferred a team of docile stuffed blobs, to a kitchen filled with catty in-fighting. A valid strategy for sure. 

Remember Kathy? Well, she was a sight to see now. Her voracious appetite had eaten her up to what I'd guess to be at least a solid, meaty 300, probably more. Kathy was always a quiet girl, which was probably because her mouth was seldom without a full load of French fries, a behemoth bite of burger, or a big slurp of strawberry milkshake, you get the picture. 

Huge girl now. The frizzish ginger hair framed the roundest face, freckles, red and sweaty from standing over the hot grill. Supple double chin swallowing the neck. Fat arms with sausage fingers gripped a spatula when they weren't being use to feed the fat face, which caused the enormous, pendulous,hanging belly to drop lower, and lower out of shirts and over all the pants.

Subtle tones of Toni Braxton wafted through the air of the lobby, like the ever present scent of fry oil billowing almost visibly about us at all times. Tina manned the register as the drizzle of Saturday morning customers seeped into the establishment. Ringing up all the egg sandwiches, and cups of coffee, she utilized her free hand to caress her engorged gut. Having made a huge pig of herself at the morning feast, Tina was feeling a bit queasy as all that junk settled. Surely, this would not stop her from digging in again to the company supply around lunch time. 

Eating even more than usual lately, for some reason, Tina was really porking up again, and it showed! But then again, had she ever really stopped being a compete cow? I remember thinking that if she wasn't careful, my sis was fast on her way to the big 300. However, I really am not one to talk given my current circumstances. 

Things began to pick up around 11:30 as the early lunch rush rolled in. "Kathy!, where are those biscuits?" A middle aged man with a receding hairline stirred his coffee in a manner which suggested mounting impatience. The line of hungry customers was beginning to amass into a problem. "Where the fuck is Stevens?" Rizotti bellowed from the back. Just then, a red 1980's Lincoln Continental with a patchwork of primer colored body panels came screaming into the parking lot emitting a cloud of smoggy exhaust. The driver's door creaking open, a Texas sized ass laboriously extricated itself from the leather bucket seat. Gloria had arrived at last, late as usual. A pair of overstretched grey sweatpants clashing with the snug orange polo, which rode up slightly to reveal a chestnut colored roll muffintop belly fat. 

Originally the most trim and svelte of our colleagues, it seemed that Gloria's temporary immunity to the fast food worker's curse had worn off sometime in the last year, as she now sported a good 40 pounds of extra blubber. Being anything, but tall, she had nowhere to grow except sideways. Waddling her way slowly to the entrance, Rizotti met her at the door, face like a tomato and ready to blow. Before he could utter the first of a surefire stream of ornery oaths, Gloria's sparkle manicured hand went up to his face in a gesture of pure dismissal. Gobsmacked, the grumpy guido, sputtered in confusion. "Give me a break, boss man. It's my time of month," Gloria exclaimed unenthusiastically, before grabbing three egg sandwiches off the line and sauntering off to the break room to fill her greedy gut. "I swear, you no good broads are going to run me out of business!" the boss fumed. Ah, just another day in paradise, I thought to myself. 

[cane4kaa]

Cool story

 

[crazygary]

CH. 7

 One month later it was 103 degrees in Austin, Texas. I woke up in a soggy haze. Wednesday morning, my day off, really tied one on last night. A tightness in my stomach reminded me that I had definitely not passed on a sixth helping of chicken wings, and stoned ice cream in the AM. 

Becoming suddenly sensitized to the high temperature in my room, I threw off the covers in a hurried motion. Letting out a groan, I heaved my tubby body into a sitting position, belly plopping into my lap, ass and thighs spread out in the mattress's indentation, hand coming to rest on the upper curve of the stretch marked spare tire, which deflected my drooping breasts to either side. "Fuck! The fucking air conditioning must be out again!"

Painstakingly hauling my oversized load towards the kitchen, through the cluttered, but clean home, I happened upon my brother Gustavo in the living room, hovering pensively over a partially disassembled air conditioning unit. "Hurry up and fix it!" I chided, only half joking. Gus' face responded with a raised eyebrow, and a sidelong glance in my direction, a hissing "mierda" muttered beneath his breath. Returning along to my task, Gustavo called after me, "Make me some eggs while you're at it." Annoyed, I snapped back with a myopic attempt at some sass, "And why do you just assume that I will be making breakfast?" My brother expelled air quickly through his nostrils, producing an hydraulic sound, "Mari, when are you not eating, these days?" he replied incredulously. 

Furiously preparing an huge breakfast in a fit of anger over Gustavo's remarks, as usual, I was ready to eat my feelings. The plates piled high with ham and eggs, adorned with stacks of fragrant tortitas, and of course the bowls of buttery farina. "Bien has comenzado!" cooed the sweet voice of my enormous mother. Clad in her uniform of floral dress and over stressed sandals, seemingly flattened further by the immense compression forces, Mamaita pitched in by arranging a veritable plethora of pastries and cakes about the kitchen table. This was all very normal. Why not?

Mi Madre had always been a big woman since I could remember, of course there were those pictures of her teenage years, itty bitty in a bikini on the beach in San Juan, but ever since she was my mom, she had been fat. That being said, it seemed that in the last 5, or 6 years she had just really packed it on. At this time she must have weighed 400 pounds, if she weighed an ounce. Standing an inch or so shorter than me, it was shocking. Aren't genetics goofy?

At last it was time for my reward, the gift that kept on giving; giving inches to my waistline, that is. A breakfast that to a mere mortal would seem insurmountable, but to this insatiable hog of a girl into which I was swiftly shapeshifting, it was just a Wednesday morning. 

[tasso007]

Great writing in that last chapter!

[xandercroft]

Would love to see this continue.  Better than the average bear...errr. story