"You're a very interesting person, Lisha," Elinor continued. "Your life right now is particularly interesting in the same way that a main character in a first novel is usually written. You're in this stage of self-discovery, finding out exactly who and what you are; observing that process is wonderfully exciting and maddening and frustrating all at the same time. Do you write a diary?" "I've tried, but, you forget a day or two and then you feel like you've blown it." "You shouldn't worry so much about consistency; worry about content. You should write a diary and capture everything you're feeling and doing and experiencing. And you should write that diary well -- care about every word and every comma and every quotation mark. And you should re-read your diary all the time, looking at the things you did and thought and said with the new vision of the experiences you gain. And then, when the diary is done -- and you'll know when it's done -- you should have it published. Show it to everyone. Let people learn about your metamorphosis. Make it a book about getting fat. If you ever decide to do that, you make sure you let me see it, and let me help you."

"I don't know," Lisha said. "I've never really written anything except for school papers and reports. Emma was always the writer. And who would want to read a book about someone getting fat?" "Probably more people than you or I could imagine," Elinor replied. "Why don't YOU write a book?" Emma asked. "Write a book about being fat by choice -- that would be a very different subject, too." "I doubt it would be very interesting, since there's no drama involved, no conflict to be resolved. It would probably wind up as a catalog of enormous meals and a compilation of ever-increasing measurements. Only fat-loving statisticians and professional chefs might find it interesting."

"Y'know what I think Lisha should write?" Emma said jokingly. "I think she'd be a natural for an advice column -- 'Dear Lisha' or something like that. She's always telling everyone how to live their life anyway, so... And she could give advice to people who are gaining weight -- voluntarily or involuntarily. She could tell people how to cope with that extra holiday weight, and what kind of clothes really set off a big round belly, and how to tell if a man or woman likes their partner to be fat..." "Well, as long as I get to have a picture taken today and have someone change my hair in the picture every ten years or so -- just like Dear Anna and Dear Amy." "No problem," Emma said. "I could just pop it into the computer and -- oh, shit! I forgot all about calling Delaware to see if they got the check!" "That's right! And we're supposed to have some pictures of me on the beach for her, too!"

Elinor was looking at the two of them questioningly, so Lisha said to Emma, "Why don't you run back to the house and make the call while I try and explain this all to Elinor." Emma agreed and strode off across the sand, Lisha watching appreciatively the sway of her lover's hips and the jiggling of her fleshy thighs and butt. "Hey!" she called when Emma was almost at the house, "bring back the camera when you come back. And the tripod!" Emma made the okay sign with her thumb and forefinger and disappeared into the house. "This is a complicated story?" Elinor asked. "Not really complicated, but... there's a lot to it." "Well, then why don't we pop inside and I'll fix some lunch for the three of us while you explain it to me." Lisha agreed, and the two of them helped one another up off the blankets; Elinor, upon gaining her balance, took a half-step back to get a better look at Lisha, then reached over and gently patted the swollen rise of the younger woman's belly. "I guess you really were pretty busy yesterday," she said, "because -- even though you were QUITE the little piggy at my place the other night -- you weren't this round when you left. So, are you sure you're hungry for lunch?"

"I didn't have breakfast this morning," Lisha replied, "so what do YOU think?" "I think you must be starving, so -- what are we waiting for?" She reached her arm around Lisha's shoulders and Lisha could feel the weight of Elinor's flesh as it molded itself softly around the back of her neck; she reached around the barely perceptible narrowing that was Elinor's waist, her outstretched arm nearly making it to the other woman's side, but settling instead on one of the rolls which marked the beginning of her mammoth butt. A little shiver went up Lisha's spine as her hand sank into the deep blubber, and her fingers began a gentle massaging and kneading. Elinor giggled a little bit, saying, "That tickles, but -- just so there's no mis-communication or anything -- while I like some physical affection with my female friends, I'm not in the least interested in a sexual relationship with ANYONE but Simon." Lisha thought for a second and said, "This feels nice -- comfortable and familiar, even -- but I'm not interested in anyone but Emma, either." "Good! Now that we're clear on that, let's get cooking!"

Elinor was talking about Simon and about how they maintained separate homes out of a need for individuality, but Lisha's concentration wasn't on her friend's patter; instead, she was focusing on every little walking movement and the way it reverberated in the great rolling flesh under her hand. Every step sent waves and counter-waves, shocks and aftershocks through the yards of blubber; each stride caused Elinor's hip to bounce against her own, Elinor's enormous drooping boobs and belly to make contact with her own. She felt the friction of her own thighs rubbing softly against each other and she could feel the heat they were generating. She accidentally let out a little moan as they stepped onto the deck and Elinor asked if anything was the matter. "No," Lisha replied, "I just realized that I have to go to the bathroom." When she was alone, behind the closed door a few seconds later, her fingers moved of their own accord to their familiar spot between her legs, and she began massaging her moist pussy with a hurried intensity that brought her the crashing release she sought in mere moments. She ran the water in the sink at full blast, hoping that it would hide her excitedly labored breathing.

When she'd composed herself a few minutes later, she walked into the kitchen, thinking, I'm glad I'm not a guy, because guys just can't hide these things; a guy would be all gooey right now, and he'd probably be ready to fall asleep. Elinor was already busy making sandwiches, piling mounds of paper thin ham and cheese and pimientos onto thick slices of black bread, slathered with homemade basil mayonnaise and stoneground mustard. Lisha pitched in, filling Elinor in on their adventures of the previous day, and when Emma opened the screen door gingerly, walking into the kitchen and asking, "Anyone here?" she was greeted by the other two carrying a platter of a dozen double-decker sandwiches, a jumbo bag of homemade potato chips and three frosty mugs of dark bitter beer. "Lunch is served on the deck, Madame, sil vous plait," Lisha said in a terrible French accent, which led Emma to add, sarcastically, "God, those language lessons are coming along SO well. Isn't she just so Kul-chid?"

They started eating and talking as soon as they'd sat down, the three of them laughing and making rude comments as they tried to fit the thick sandwiches into their wide-open mouths. Emma informed them that the check had arrived in Delaware and that she'd sent the photo over the wires, along with an e-mail to their contact, telling her that she'd be in touch with her later about some current -- and very revealing -- photographic evidence of Lisha's gluttony and recent weight-gain. After finishing her second sandwich, Lisha leaned back to take a break for a minute to allow some of the heavy food to settle.. She patted her belly, which was obviously much larger than anyone in Hollywood had ever seen it, pleased at its roundness and heft, yet... "When we take pictures of me later, you've got to find an angle that makes me look fatter. I want to really shock everyone who sees this picture with how huge I've gotten. Can you do that?"

Emma finished chewing her mouthful of potato chips and said, "I'll do what I can do, girl, but -- let's face it -- you've put on maybe twenty-five pounds, and while you might be chubby, you're just not 'HUGE' right now!" Lisha's face formed into her world-famous pout, and she said, "There's no need to be mean and say insulting things. How would you like it if someone said YOU weren't huge?" Emma looked at Elinor, saying, "Ummm... How would you answer that?" The three of them laughed, then continued making the food disappear. When Lisha had finished her third sandwich and had chugged down her second beer, she stood up a little tipsily, arched her back and stuck out her belly as far as it could possibly go, saying, "Okay -- now THAT's huge, right?" Elinor laughed, saying, "Plump, maybe." "How about porky?" Emma asked. "Chunky works, too."

Lisha plopped down in her chair and pouted again, saying, "Okay, so I'm not huge yet. What else have you got to eat?" Elinor smiled at her performance, then said, "Lisha, honey, even if you could find a way to eat everything in my refrigerator right now -- including the seven-layer cakes I've got for us for dessert -- it would take you MONTHS before you became 'huge.' It would take EMMA months to become 'huge.' Hell -- I've met some guys over the years who'd hesitate to call ME huge! So -- if you're gonna be on the cover of these rags anytime soon -- you'd better resign yourself to just being chubby. Besides, to most people out there, the twenty-five pounds you've gained is already obscene!"

"Oooh! I've always wanted to be obscene," Lisha said as Elinor got up to go inside and fetch the dessert. "You're so full of it," Emma said. "You're just a little prude. You practically walked off the set of 'The Sitter' when they sprang that nude scene on you." "Well, it wasn't out of prudishness, Miss Know-It-All. It just wasn't in my contract. If there'd been a nude scene in the script, I might've negotiated for a higher fee or opted out of the role something. But I just think the director had the scene put in because he wanted to see me in my birthday suit and when he'd asked me out I'd blown him off. He was way old, and it was obvious why he was BEHIND the camera. So -- yeah, I would rather have quit than let that old ugly lech even get a glimpse of my boobs!"

If you've got any comments or criticisms, you can post them on the WeightBoard or e-mail me at: melaniebel@aol.com.

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