Greetings from Fat City, USA

A novella by Melanie Bell

Chapters
1 | 2 | 3 | 5


Chapter 4

"The study is still ongoing, but it appears that it was a prosperous culture which accorded great importance and status to the fattest women of the tribe. Many of the drawings depict great feasts at which impossibly huge women are fed by legions of male acolytes. There is great disagreement among the researchers as to the interpretation of these drawings, with one side claiming that they are symbolic representations of some unknown mythology, while the other side believes that they are representations of actual events. The discovery of the remnants of a massive feast in one of the cavern's antechambers has done nothing to quell the controversy." (From "Las Mujeres: An Appetite for the Good Life", published by the LM Chamber of Commerce.)


There wasn't much time for small talk, because no sooner had we sat down at one of the large tables, than Lily brought in three turkey platters piled to overflowing with a sinfully rich lasagna, oozing with cheese and sausage and rich oily marinara sauce. I looked at the enormous helping she placed in front of me -- it was easily equal to TWO full pans of lasagna that I'd make at home -- and I began to wonder whether I was equal to the challenge. There's only one way to find out, I said to myself, then picked up my fork and began eating.

My belly was pretty full when I started -- the food in the car, the heros in the truck -- but I pressed on, determined to at least do some damage. The boys came in after a while and helped themselves to plates as big as mine. I took frequent breaks from my gorging, but my four companions didn't stop for a minute, each of them refilling their plates a couple of times, putting their forks down only to devour huge hunks of the two-foot Italian breads doused in butter that occupied the center of the table.

I played little games with myself, saying in my head, Just finish half of it. Just one more forkful. You can do it. You're almost at two-thirds. If you eat a little more, you'll stretch your belly and you'll have more room. You can't let yourself be out-eaten by some kids. Rest a minute, then you'll get your pace back.

Each time I'd rest, I'd look around the table. The boys were single-mindedly concentrating on fitting as much food as possible into their growing bellies, their concentration and dedication to their task making me certain that it wouldn't be long before each of them surpassed Mountain in size. Mountain and Lily, meanwhile took turns from feeding themselves to feed one another. They would close their eyes and moan softly as their partner's hand slowly maneuvered a huge load of rich pasta into their waiting mouth. After they'd each filled up their third platter, they mixed their feeding with gentle caresses, then kisses and face-nuzzling, seemingly unaware of the presence of anyone else in the room.

About this time, I looked down and noticed that -- somehow -- there were only three or four forkfuls left on my plate. My stomach was impossibly distended and I was starting to feel pretty hot between my legs as I watched the sensuous intertwining of food and sex going on next to me. I imagined it was Diana's hand feeding me instead of my own and I greedily gobbled down the last few bites, then lustily followed it down with a large hunk of crusty bread, only stopping myself when I noticed that my hands were shaking and my head was getting light. I leaned back in my chair, folding my hands over the inflated balloon that was bulging out of my open pants, and listening to the syncopated rhythm of forks against plates that was going on all around me.


"Hundreds of years later, when Botero, the Spanish conquistador, became the first European to set foot on the mesa in 1582, he was greeted by the Baiute Indians, who welcomed him and his band of sixteen starving soldiers to their fertile land. Unlike the scenario played out in so many other encounters between Europeans and Native Americans, Botero, tired from his ceaseless and futile search for golden cities, decided to settle in and make his home among the natives. As he wrote in his journal, 'These simple people, so warm and welcoming, by their example have convinced me to end my wanderings. I seek rest, and where better to live than here, since I can no longer resist the peaceful charms of these beautiful dark women, so healthy and exceedingly plump...'" (From "Las Mujeres: An Appetite for the Good Life", published by the LM Chamber of Commerce.)


There was a hand on my stomach and I sat up with a start, suddenly feeling very dizzy. "Are you okay?" one of the boys was asking. I realized that I must've fallen asleep for a little while, because Mountain and Lily were not sitting at the table anymore, and their licked-clean plates looked very lonely on the food-free expanse of Formica. "You want to see the rest of this place?" the younger one asked.

"Where'd Mountain and Lily go?" I asked, standing up, and suddenly feeling the weight of the massive meal as it forced my stomach outwards and downwards, swollen to a size I'd never before seen.

"They went to their room or something," the other boy said. "I just hope they come out soon so we can have dessert!" They started walking through the big room and I followed, my hands underneath my distended stomach, supporting its weight. They argued playfully as they walked about who had eaten more dinner and who could eat more dessert, asking me at one point to judge which one of them had the bigger stomach. Not wanting to insult either of them, I told them I couldn't decide, even though it was clear that the older boy was obviously bigger.

We came to their bedroom after a short walk, and it looked like any other young boy's bedroom: a mess! There were toys everywhere, books and papers all over the place, tossed-off clothes, and empty cartons, bags and boxes of food everywhere. But what really caught my attention were the four big posters that adorned the walls. They were old-fashioned circus posters, huge and garishly colored, each depicting an enormous woman seated on a chair surrounded by tables overflowing with food. "The Fabulously Fat Dolly Dimples," one of them said. "Donna Dimples, Fattest Woman in the World," said another. "Fat Fannie Franklin: The Fattest Woman Alive," said the third. And, "990-Pound Lazy Lily Loving, the Fattest Woman Who Ever Lived," said the last one, above a picture of the very woman I'd just gorged with.

"What are these pictures?" I asked, unable to tear my eyes away for even a second.

"Oh, those?" said the older boy, pointing at the pictures in turn. "Well, that one's Mom at her old job, and that one's Grandma and Great-Grandma and Great-Great-Grandma. They were all pretty famous. Then we moved here. Do you want to see our fort? Mountain put a frigerator in it and we have some snacks if you want." I couldn't imagine eating any more at that moment, so I declined and the two of them took off outside, disappearing into the woods, the bouncing of their bellies easily visible from behind.


"Some of Botero's men returned to Spain bearing maps marked with the location of 'La Mesa de las Mujeres Gordas'. When Europeans next returned to the area in 1621, however, they found the area uninhabited and no trace of Botero or the Baiutes. It has been speculated that the diseases carried by the Spaniards decimated the population as happened so many other times during the exploration of the New World. What the next band of explorers did find was a soil unrivaled in its richness and fertility, although, of the several settlements that were attempted here, none lasted more than a dozen years, due to the extreme difficulty involved in reaching the mesa." (From "Las Mujeres: An Appetite for the Good Life", published by the LM Chamber of Commerce.)


I studied the pictures for a few minutes, amazed at the size of these women, intrigued by the way they got fatter with each generation and astounded to realize that the Lily I'd just met was even larger than she'd been in the picture -- larger by a long way. I sat on the edge of one of the boys' beds and ran my hands over my -- comparatively -- tiny belly, wondering just how it must feel to be that massive, and how long it might take me to grow as big as Lily, and then even bigger. I imagined myself on a mission to grow enormous; I'd enlist Tonia and Diana to assist me and their duties would be to ensure that my mouth and my belly were full twenty-four hours a day. I imagined them pouring buckets of food down my waiting throat, my stomach swelling like an over-inflated balloon. Caught up in the frenzy of feeding, they'd stuff each other as well, and the three of us would grow to mammoth proportions. My belly would be so big that it would practically fill up an entire room. Tonia's ass would grow so wide that we'd have to knock down all the walls in the house just so she could turn around. Diana's boobs would swell to such massive size that they'd each require four strong men to lift them just to keep the tender flesh from dragging on the ground.

As I fantasized, my hand found its way beneath my swollen stomach and underneath the tight waistband of my panties. My pussy was burning up and dripping with anticipation, and my hand homed in on the heat, rubbing and massaging my tender womanhood until I couldn't stand it any more. I exploded in violent tremors and temblors, conscious of nothing but the orgasm which roared through my spine like a million volts, and of the shaking of the huge meal in my belly, pressing down on me like the weight of a fat lover.

When I finally calmed down from my repeated ecstasies, I was surprised at how loudly I was still breathing. It was a few moments before I realized that the heaving breath wasn't coming from me, but was coming through the wall beside me. Pulling up my pants, which seemed somehow tighter than they'd been a few moments ago, I followed the sounds through the house, out into the truck stop and into a corridor that was on the opposite side of the kitchen. Finding a door that appeared to be in the right place to share a wall with the boys' room, I listened in, hearing those moans which had caught my attention. The door wasn't closed all the way and I gently pushed it open just a crack, then peered inside.


"It wasn't until the Gold Rushes of the 1860s and 1870s that a permanent settlement was finally established at Las Mujeres. A rich vein of gold was discovered at the base of Big Top by Lester Chubb. News got out that Las Mujeres was 'Fat City' and soon the mesa was home to hundreds of intrepid prospectors dreaming of bulging wallets. When Chubb's gold turned out to be the only strike in the area, many of the prospectors, instead of abandoning their squatter's claims, began to discover the fecundity of the soil, deciding to settle down and farm the land, bringing in their wives and sweethearts and turning Las Mujeres into a closely-knit farming community. But Lester Chubb and his descendents would see to it that their city wouldn't languish in the backwaters." (From "Las Mujeres: An Appetite for the Good Life", published by the LM Chamber of Commerce.)


Although I'd suspected what I might find, I was still unprepared for the actual sight of it. On a bed that was easily ten feet by ten feet, I could make out an enormous writhing mass of blubber. There was more flesh than I had ever seen -- acres and acres of it, drawn by gravity's pull into pools and waves. There was an ocean of blubber with its own currents and tides, endlessly moving in ripples and jiggles ranging from large to infinitesimal. At first, I couldn't even make out where one body began and the other ended, but as I concentrated, I could soon see that this was a leg and this was an arm and this was a breast and this was a belly. After minutes of fascinated study I realized that Mountain and Lily were on their sides in the sixty-nine position, their heads invisible among the rolls and folds of fat that made up each of their gargantuan thighs. Their moans, I realized were actually yells and screams of pleasure, muffled by all the blubber.

I couldn't help myself: I had to touch them. I had to feel the softness of their flesh. I ran into the room and began caressing them, reaching over one's bulk to share my attentions with the other. They appreciated my touch, and the surprise of it set them each to mighty shaking in paroxysms of unbridled pleasure. Eventually their shaking slowed down, and, like circus elephants slowly moving in unison, each of them lifted a massive thigh, allowing the other to move their head into the open air. They rolled onto their backs and saw me, their smiles thanking me more than any words could have. I got a good look at the way their bellies and breasts were so huge that they seemed to overflow their bodies and rest on the mattress. Without a word, I shucked my clothes and climbed into the bed between them, begging them to envelop me in their fat. They rolled on their sides again and I felt myself being sandwiched and smothered, drowning in the sea of hot and sweaty blubber, encased in living softness. I imagined that all that flesh was me, and even though I couldn't touch myself, I began to shake and shudder in orgasm after orgasm, feeling each ripple of pleasure echo in all the sweet fat that surrounded me.

Eventually, we all stood, mumbling those post-orgasmic sounds that mean nothing but convey a depth of shared ecstasy inexpressible in language. After dressing, we all walked out into the main room, where the boys were already waiting impatiently for their dessert. The appetite I'd built up by all those orgasms overshadowed the huge and still-undigested meal that sat in my stomach, and somehow, I managed to cram two entire apple pies and a half-gallon of ice-cream into my protesting stomach before my arms refused to feed me anymore. My companions kept going long after I'd stopped, until finally, they too had reached their capacities. The boys, though obviously stuffed, were eager to get back out to their fort, so Lily told them to get going but be back in time for dinner.


"Although the railroads weren't interested in running a line to the nearly inaccessible mesa, the Chubbs used a great deal of their personal fortune to fund the completion of paved roads over the Baiute Pass, thus linking Las Mujeres with the rest of the world. With Roland Chubb as its first mayor, the city was incorporated in 1906 as 'The City of La Mesa de las Mujeres Gordas', although it was commonly referred to as Las Mujeres. When the Interstate Highway system was being mapped out in the 1950s, Rachel Chubb -- affectionately known as "Round Rachel" for her more-than-ample figure which hearkened back to Botero's description of the mesa's residents -- used her considerable weight in the State government to ensure that a spur of the Interstate reached right into Las Mujeres." (From "Las Mujeres: An Appetite for the Good Life", published by the LM Chamber of Commerce.)


We sat for a while, and I asked Lily about the posters. She said, "Yeah, I was a pretty major attraction in my time. Bigger than anyone else in my family, too. Of course, by the seventies, sideshows were just not a big draw anymore. People thinking it was cruel to gawk at unusual folk. But, heck, we didn't think it was cruel, cause we were gawking right back. All those ladies commenting on how disgustingly fat I was, but I knew that each and every one of them was looking at my pile of food and thinking about how wonderful it'd be to toss out all those diet books and just eat all the day long. I had some power, there, I knew, and I'd use it by looking at some girl -- one who was a little chubby, but not very fat -- sort of like your size," she said, pointing at me. "I'd look at her -- especially if she was eating something like an ice cream cone -- and I'd take a big huge bite of whatever I was pigging out on, then rub my bulging belly, lick my lips and wink at her. I knew she'd be carrying that picture in her head -- that connection -- with each bite of food she took for the rest of her life. Some of those girls I connected with would see it in a negative way and they'd immediately toss out whatever snack they were working on. But others... some of them would take another bite of their food, losing themselves in some wicked thought, while some of the more brazen ones would take a big bite of their treat, rub their own bellies and then wink back at me. Sometimes I'd even see them again the next year or a couple of years down the road, and they'd be much fatter, and they'd smile at me and I'd know that I really had connected."

She sighed, then continued, "Eventually, the circus got rid of the sideshow, so I took the money I'd saved over the years, took the advice of a trucker I'd met--" she turned and smiled at Mountain "-- and bought myself this truck stop, dedicating my life to feeding all those big hungry men hauling themselves down the roads. Sitting on your butt all day sure builds up an appetite, they tell me."


"Transportation is still important in Las Mujeres, which boasts one of the most popular and well-utilized public transportation system in any city of its size. The 85 wide-body mini-buses that ply the city streets carry an estimated 30% of the population from home to work to play each and every day of the year. Health care is also exceptional, with the Chubb Memorial Hospital boasting state-of-the-art detection and treatment facilities, as well as its own helicopters for transporting difficult cases to larger hospitals." (From "Las Mujeres: An Appetite for the Good Life", published by the LM Chamber of Commerce.)


We talked a while more, then Mountain said he'd have to take me back up to town before it got too dark to negotiate the treacherous roads. Lily stood up and gave me a big hug, thanking me for making it such a memorable afternoon. She patted my swollen tummy, then -- to my total surprise -- lifted up her dress so I could pat her stomach, exposing an immense expanse of stretch-marked white flesh, split in two below one of the rolls that concealed her bellybutton, and hanging down just below where her knees would have been if they, too, weren't concealed by folds of blubber. I ran my hands all over its soft surface -- the surface in which I had so recently been enfolded. It was surprising how sensitive her flesh was to my touch and the way she shivered as I explored its vastness, lifting the huge roll of fat and feeling its monumental heft. She hugged me again and then I followed Mountain over to the truck, practically skipping, and enjoying the shaking of my own full stomach.

On the ride home, Mountain munched on a couple of the heros from his refrigerator, while telling me that he'd see to it that someone with a tow truck would pick up my car and bring it back to the house. After watching him pick up his fourth hero, I couldn't help myself; I was intoxicated with the process of eating. I knew that the hunger I was feeling was all in my head and that I was already incredibly stuffed, but still, I forced myself to cram a foot-long into my distended stomach. When I finished the sandwich, I was so gorged that sitting upright was not an option, so I laid down across the bench seat, resting my head on the pillowy bulge of Mountain's gigantic belly. "Looks like someone's about outdone herself today," he said, gently stroking my shoulder and my head until I fell asleep.

He woke me when we got to the driveway, and after giving him a friendly tummy-pat farewell, I headed inside, my fat stomach bulging proudly out of my completely unzipped pants. Tonia and Diana were surprised to see me, having gotten my note. They were even more surprised to see how hugely swollen my belly was with the day's enormous consumption. As I told them of the day's events, they couldn't keep their hands off of me; then -- as if they had tapped into my fantasies of earlier that day -- the two of them led me into the living room, stripped me down to just my underwear and sat me down in the easy chair. Then, they set Tonia's daughter, Samantha, to guard over me while the two of them disappeared, giggling, into the kitchen.



© 1995-1997 by Melanie Bell