When Lisha came back into the small room, Emma was still busy pushing pixels around the screen, using every trick she knew to give the photos a grainy from-a-distance kind of look. Lisha sunk into the recliner, watching the slow progress, finally giving in to the drowsiness that had been building, falling asleep within a matter of minutes.

She woke up sometime later when the sun had disappeared behind the dunes and the sky was glowing with an orange fire. Emma was still at the computer, but she wasn't working on the picture. "Did you give up on the photo?" Lisha asked. "No, I finshed that one hours ago and two others, too, and e-mailed all three photos. You've been sleeping for like three hours. I wasn't drowsy, so I popped up the web browser; it was still on that page of pictures of you, so I looked around that site a little while, then found their links page and started checking out some of the sites having to do with fat women and fat lesbians -- there's just so much stuff out there!" "I was checking them out, too, but mostly I came up with a bunch of crap -- links pointing to pages of other links and stuff like that."

"Well, remember how I was saying that I was thinking of writing a screenplay? And that I couldn't come up with an idea? Well, I came to this one site -- a girl who wants to get fat. She's keeping a diary on line, and I just couldn't stop reading it. It reminded me so much of you -- and of us... They always told me to write what you know, so..." "Do you think anyone would want to make a movie about someone who wants to get fat? It's not exactly mainstream, y'know." "Yeah, well I know this producer, see... And she wants to be a director... And I think she'd even be perfect for the part -- it wouldn't be too much of a stretch for her acting abilities and I think we'd have no problem convincing her to gain the weight!" "Gee?" Emma asked sarcastically, "who could that producer-slash-director-slash-actress be? And how well do you know her?"

"Well, why don't you just write the script and then you can present it to her and... then I'll see what we can do about it!" Lisha kneeled in front of Emma's chair, put her hands on her girlfriend's shoulders and they were instantly engaged in a deep and soulful kiss. They kissed for what seemed like an eternity; their tongues explored each other's mouths while their hands traveled over each other's soft skin, playing with their partners' nipples and belly buttons and buns. Then, as if a signal were given, they were suddenly on the floor, bodies sliding over one another, lubricated by a slight and fragrant sheen of perspiration, faces buried between each other's legs, hands and tongues working at a frenzied pace, the excitement building to that level of delicious pain that can only be assuaged by violent release. Building and releasing, building and releasing, they became a non-stop orgasm machine, working in a feedback loop of passion, until finally, every muscle in their bodies quit, leaving them immobile on the carpet, chests heaving and pulses racing.

The stars were out when Lisha had gained enough strength to sit up. She scooted up towards Emma's head, then played with her lover's copper hair. Emma was the first to speak, saying, "I don't ever want to leave this house. I wouldn't mind if I died right now." "I'd mind," Lisha said. "I'd mind terribly because, then... I'd have to call the cops and they'd ask all kinds of questions and it would be so inconvenient because, I'm hungry and I'd never get to eat with all that bother!" Emma slapped her playfully saying, "One day you're going to be serious about something and THAT will give me a heart attack." "What do you mean? I'm very serious about being hungry..."

They ordered three pizzas from a local place and devoured them in no time at all, then sat around for a while, talking about the screenplay idea and generally trying to avoid going to sleep, knowing that they'd be leaving for home the next morning. Finally, exhaustion overtook them, and they straggled upstairs, collapsing in each other's arms and passing out.

When the limo picked them up at noon, Lisha was wearing her fat suit again, a little disappointed that she still needed padding, but somewhat pleased when she realized that she didn't need as much padding as she'd needed on the way there. They had the driver stop at a store in town where they picked up a thermos of coffee, a half-gallon of OJ, two dozen donuts and a half-dozen bagels with cream cheese. They feasted the whole way into the city, finishing the last donut just as they hit the highway exit for the airport.

"I feel like I'm going back a different person," Lisha said. Emma looked at her friend in the brown wig, the polyester clothes, the white orthopedic sandals, saying "Well, you certainly LOOK like a different person!" "Well," Lisha laughed, "besides the obvious. I came out here confused and unfocused. I was eating like a pig, but without any clue as to why. I was oblivious to my true feelings toward you. I wasn't sure whether I wanted my career, but I didn't know what else to do. And now... now I feel like I know who I am and I know what I want and I know how to get there. Maybe I didn't gain twenty pounds in the four days, but I think I gained something much more valuable." "I think you did, too," Emma said. "Besides me, of course!" "I didn't gain you," Lisha said. "I always had you. Right in my pocket!" She patted her padded butt and then her face suddenly became very serious.

"But really," she continued, "I feel as if my horizons have expanded --" "-- well, your waistline has certainly expanded!" "I mean it. I feel as if I'm a butterfly coming out of a coccoon. But even more than that... It's like, if I was a 'star' out in Hollywood when all this confusion started swirling around my head, well then I was doing what a real star does, out there in the universe: I was taking everything in, everything all around me, and I was compressing it and holding it tighter and tighter and just burning up inside, consuming myself from the inside out. And then, I guess it all got so compressed and so empty at the same time, that it was inevitable that I would become a supernova. That's what I'm becoming Emma -- a supernova. And I'm going to shine brighter than a billion stars, and I'm going to expand outwards, infusing everyone and everything with a little piece of me. Historians will mark time by me, telescopes will find my mark glowing in the heavens for the rest of eternity..." There was a little tear forming in the corner of her eye, and as soon as it began to crawl slowly down her cheek, Emma reached over and gently wiped it away.

"It's so strange when you do that," Emma said. "A joking little girl one second, and then you switch to this mystical, metaphysical mode. It's strange and... so appealing." They kissed, and when they opened their eyes, Lisha caught a glimpse of the driver quickly moving his glance from the mirror where he'd obviously been watching. She suddenly realized that she didn't care if everyone knew about her new love.

Once they'd checked their bags, Emma had to make a couple of phone calls, so she left Lisha in the magazine shop and headed over to the bank of phones. The airport was relatively quiet and Lisha was the only one in the shop besides the guy behind the register. She stared at him as she pretended to glance through a magazine, thinking that there was something about him that was very attractive. He wasn't your standard "gorgeous" guy: he had an extremely short haircut -- practically buzzed -- with salt-and-pepper hair, deep blue eyes with long and feminine eyelashes behind small oval wireframe glasses, a small goatee, five earrings in his left ear and two in his right. She couldn't tell what kind of body he had from where she was standing, but she was pretty sure that he was tall and slim and not very muscular. He looked up once and caught her looking at him and smiled a very nice and genuine smile.

She continued wandering around, picking up a copy of "No Moss" magazine that featured her on the cover, then putting that one down and flipping through the latest "She" with an article on her at the DavidO awards. When she looked up again, she saw that the guy was looking at her, with that "You look so familiar" kind of expression. She caught a glimpse of herself in one of the mirrored walls just then and decided that there was no way he could possibly recognize her. She continued around the store, moving towards the door, and was just about to leave when she spotted a copy of The Inquisitor.

Emma had just sent the photos over last night, and Lisha was amazed that they could get the magazine out that quickly. They'd obviously decided to hold the weight-loss camp story until the following week, because theis time, the cover was plastered with a giant blow-up of her kneeling on the blanket, facing the camera while putting on her suntan lotion. They'd put those little black "Censored" strips over her nipples and her pussy, but everything else was totally clear: her round belly, her chubby love handles, her expanded cleavage, her thickened thighs. Above the photo, the headline screamed, "Lard-O Lisha!", and below, the subhead yelled, "How many bottles of sunblock must it take to cover Lisha Goldrock's 180-pound body? Story and more shocking pictures inside!" She started paging through the rag, looking for the story, but she noticed the guy staring at her again and decided that she should probably get out of there before she was recognized.

Putting the paper on the counter, she opened up her purse and pulled out a dollar. The cashier was looking at the picture on the cover and, somewhat nervously, Lisha said, "It's such a shame, isn't it?" "Excuse me?" he replied, smiling that warm smile again. "It's such a shame what that girl's done to herself. That perfect body and then getting so fat..." "Some people might not find that such a terrible thing," he said. "And -- what I was actually looking at was her face. It's kind of a grainy picture, but, you can tell that she's smiling and comfortable with herself. She looks happy." Lisha leaned over and looked closely at the photo, right where his be-ringed finger was pointing, and saw that he was right. The camera had captured her mood perfectly and that's exactly what he had seen.

"I guess you're right," she said. "She does look happy. I guess that's what's really important anyway." "It's the only thing that's important," he said, looking her right in the eye. "Because, in the end -- money, fame, beauty -- none of that matters." His gaze was so strong and direct, Lisha felt a familiar little chill that spread through her body, threatening to weaken her knees. She found the quarter she needed to complete the sale, and as she started to gather up her purchase, she felt his hand gently touch hers and then he whispered, "Are you happy, Lisha?" She swallowed deeply and turned to face him. His hand let go of hers and he was smiling again, but it was a sweet smile and Lisha somehow knew that it was just an honest question and that there was no danger, no malice. She thought about the past few days and she thought about the days to come and she could feel the happiness building inside her, radiating outward, enveloping her life. "No," she said. "I'm not just happy: I'm ecstatic!" She walked out of the shop wondering if she'd even need the plane to fly herself home.

The End...

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