~BBW, eating, realistic, ~~WG - a daughter tackles her oppressive father - and her own insecurities - on a luxury cruise
[Author's note: This is a parallel tale to 'George Ahoy' set on the same cruise. As before this will be in several parts over the coming weeks (or months - bit busy IRL at the moment...) Any queries, comments or suggestions, please feel free to post, PM or email me on gus7021 AT gmail dot com]
PART ONE
“... and leave that minibar alo–”
Slam.
Sophie surveyed her cabin. By virtue of some screaming arguments, and finally a threat not to go on the cruise at all, she had persuaded her parents to give her a room to herself. The fact that she was 18 hadn’t seemed to deter her father from putting her on a separate bed in the same cabin as her parents – but rationality wasn’t his strong suit.
The only reason, Sophie though, that he had been so insistent was that he couldn’t bear the idea of her being on her own for her first summer in her college course. In other parents this might have been touching – unfortunately for Sophie, her dad’s actions were not in the least selfless or altruistic.
The girl pondered her plight while experimentally bouncing on the bed, and then checking out the bathroom. Her cabin was fairly small and basic – on a mid-level deck, but with a window – but Sophie wasn’t complaining. It was a long way from her parent’s luxurious suite in terms of amenities – but it was also a long way in terms of distance.
Sophie walked over to the forbidden minibar, and looked inside. It had an extensive selection – the cruise company had even left the booze in, despite her father’s attempts to have it removed. She had a sneaking suspicion that this was more thanks to his hectoring tone than the incompetence of the company.
She took out two of the candy bars and the packet of chips, opened one Twix and flung the other items to the bed. As Sophie munched the chocolate, her other hand unconsciously rubbed her belly. She walked over to the mirror on the door of the closet, and looked herself over.
Sophie stood around five-foot-six in her socks; her thick blonde hair reached just below her shoulders, framing an oval face with bright blue eyes. Up to that point, she was the picture of her mother – except for her weight.
Where Sophie’s mom was thin to the point of emaciation, Sophie herself could be euphemistically described as curvaceous. In reality, ‘chubby’ would probably do her figure justice – except to her father, who simply called her “a fat pig”.
Standing in front of the mirror in her cabin, Sophie’s figure strained her clothes slightly – the blue buttoned shirt pulled at her belly, breasts and hips, and her jeans looked almost painted on. As she chewed on the chocolate, her nascent double chin became clear to see, flowing into cheeks that were changing her face from oval to round.
She finished the bar, tossing the wrapper into the trash can, and reached over to the bed for the chips. As she began to pull at the packet, though, she stopped suddenly, and almost did a double-take.
“Oh, crap. I’ve done it again.” She spoke aloud to the empty room.
Sophie stood in contemplation for a moment, her gaze off in the middle distance, looking towards but not seeing the grimy port buildings through the glass.
Then she opened the chips anyway.
When Sophie had left for college just under a year earlier, she had gone with a generous allowance, the blessings of her parents, and her father’s admonition to “watch her weight” ringing in her ears.
What followed was a fairly predictable pattern of events. Sophie managed to keep her weight fairly stable up to Christmas, only gaining five pounds – which were immediately noticed by her father. But after the winter break, the combined pressures of study and socialising went to work.
It started with missing the gym – Sophie’s visits dropped from three times a week to two, then sometimes two, then one. Then one every other week. Then never.
At the same time, her resolve to stay away from takeaway and fast food started to crumble – by April she and her roommate were phoning through impressively long orders to the various pizza, burger and Chinese joints in a five-mile radius around the dorm.
It didn’t help that Sophie’s roommate – a tall girl with a sweet tooth and the apparent metabolism of a hummingbird on smack – took the lead in ordering the reams of cardboard cartons. Sophie herself was just an unwitting accomplice, a sidekick to her roomie’s Junkfood Avenger act.
Consequently, Sophie was never conscious of ordering – or eating – all that much. Her body, though, was extremely conscious, and managed to add 20 pounds of soft flab to her body between Christmas and June.
To say her father freaked would be a slight understatement. As far as he was concerned, Sophie couldn’t have done worse than if she’d admitted to being a junkie whore as she stepped back into the family home.
For Sophie, it was a rude awakening – not only had she not realised that she was eating more, but she had never consciously clocked her growing body. She had been doing her clothes shopping in a group, and among the swirl of jeans and tops and sweats going back and forth between changing rooms, Sophie didn’t notice what sizes she ended up with, let alone the fact that these were going up every other month or so.
As Sophie weathered the storm of her dad’s anger – not helped by her ineffectual mother’s bleating comments (“Honey, have you just tried eating less?”) – she discovered, to her alarm, that she had become a compulsive snacker.
Deprived of its large meals, Sophie’s hungry belly would continually seek out sustenance throughout the day, cheerfully co-opting her feet and hands in its efforts to keep itself in calories. Her mind on something else entirely, Sophie would suddenly discover herself reaching for a high-fat snack from a shelf – sometimes in her kitchen, but more often than not in the 7-11 down the street from her house.
She was smart enough to keep most of the evidence of her eating hidden from her parents – she only used trash cans well away from the house, or else snuck out the candy packets or empty ice-cream tubs in her backpack when she left.
But one piece of evidence she couldn’t hide – her ever-growing belly. At least once a day her dad would eye his daughter’s midsection, and turn a little redder. Roughly every three days this would continue into a barked rebuke or threat, up to and including sending Sophie off to fat camp.
After acknowledging this was not a realistic option – one anecdotal story of fat campers gaining weight while away probably helped – her dad realised he would have to choose between taking Sophie on the cruise, or leaving her unsupervised at home – and in striking distance of the 7-11.
The cruise won by a head.
***
“How do you like your cabin, sweetie?”
“It’s great, mom. How’s yours?”
“Oh it’s lovely. Isn’t it lovely, Vern? It’s got a great big window, and a bed, and an en-suite... It’s lovely.”
“That’s nice, mom. Uh... dad? What d’you think of the ship?” Sophie looked nervously over at her father, who was quietly simmering across the table.
“Hmph. Too many restaurants. And too many... you know. Coloureds.”
“Oh, daaad, jeez! You can’t say that – it’s not the frickin 1950s any more, you know.”
Her dad was unrepentant. “Well it’s true. And don’t swear – it’s almost as disgusting as your eating habits.”
Sophie muttered something under her breath, and cast her eyes down to the plate of salad – undressed – in front of her. They were having their first meal together onboard, and Sophie had already determined it would be one of their last.
After Sophie had picked listlessly at the limp leaves for a while, a waiter mercifully took her offending plate away – and less mercifully replaced it with one bearing steamed fish – no sauce – and vegetables – no butter. Her father’s choice, of course.
The ultimate humiliation came shortly after the remnants of their mains had been cleared away. “No, we won’t be needing dessert – she’s on a diet, packed on too much weight in college,” confided her father to the friendly waiter, while nodding towards Sophie. The girl felt her face turn beetroot red, and tears pricked the corner of her eyes – but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of crying.
Back in her room, a little while later, Sophie let out a shuddering sigh – her anger and frustration and sorrow fighting to be expelled from her lungs.
A litany of unprintable expletives rolled around her head as she paced the small cabin, occasionally pausing to kick something half-heartedly. After a few turns round the room. Sophie reached into the minibar and pulled out another chocolate bar.
She was halfway through the bar when she realised she was eating. Slowly she stopped chewing, stopped, pacing, stopped everything. After a few seconds the only noise in the cabin was Sophie’s breathing – growing louder, and deeper, and angrier.
Then, with a scream she launched the half-eaten bar at the window, where it left a sticky trail down to the floor. Sobbing uncontrollably now, Sophie knelt in front of the minibar and began to rip out every item of confectionary inside, tearing them to shreds as she poured a screaming torrent of abuse and invective at each in turn.
“Frickin stupid frigging chocolate – you’re making me so frigging fat! Why can’t you just stop! Why can’t you just...” Sophie broke down again, sobbing over the still-open door of the minibar as the occasional muffled expletive emerged from her quivering mouth.
Eventually she pulled herself together, and with a few sniffs put herself to bed. Under the covers, she watched the now-distant shore lights slide slowly past the ship as it headed southwards.
Sophie curled into a foetal position, and fell asleep.
It was a few days into the cruise, and Sophie was ready to kill someone – her father was first in line.
He just wasn’t giving her... space! Any space! At all! When she woke up, it was to the sound of him banging on her door; minutes later she would be virtually frog-marched to breakfast – muesli, no milk or yoghurt – then to the deck, or pool or recreation room, for “family time”.
Sophie’s mother had obviously tried her best, in her ineffectual way, and her dad was playing the cheerful, energetic family man for all he was worth. He would jolly the three of them along to genteel ship-board events, and happily bawl out encouragement as “his girls” tried their hands at curling, or bowling, or knitting.
But Sophie and her father knew each other too well – she could see the fire of anger and loathing burning within his eyes, and she guessed he could see the resentment spilling out of every one of her pores as well.
Still they played the game – as much for Sophie’s mom as anything else. She hated to see her daughter and husband argue.
As Sophie trudged along the corridor at the back of the three-strong family crocodile, she offered up a silent prayer to any being that might be listening for deliverance.
Marching ahead, Vern briefed his troops. “Right, you... family. Today we’re going to stretch our brains and learn all about – sea cucumbers! They’ve got a special exhibition on in the gallery. Isn’t that exciting?”
Sophie added a few more extreme categories – perfect storm, Kraken, intercontinental thermonuclear Armageddon – to her desired escape routes.
It was everything she ever feared – and more. Not only was the exhibition a textbook example on how to kill a subject deader than its stuffed exhibits, it was also attended to by possibly the least exciting person Sophie had ever seen. And she’d been to Delaware.
He looked like Hans Moleman’s older, less racy brother, and spoke in. Slow hesitant. Sentences that. Never really. Seemed to. End.
“Now here. We see. A fine. Example. Of the. Greater crested. Sea cucum. Ber. The greater. Crested. Sea cucumber. Is mainly. To be found. Off the. Coast of...”
GAAAAAH!
While Moleman Major droned on, Sophie committed a gratuitous act of genocide in her head, using only the inert form of a sea cucumber.
She glanced around wildly for an escape route – and found it.
“Ok, guys, gather round! Now, take a look at these little fellows. Don’t look much, do they? Well, you’re right – they’re not. But did you know there are some places where you can find more than one thousand of these critters in a square meter? And not only that – there are some fish that actually live in this guy’s anus. Can you believe that? This thing could’ve had something living up its butt?”
A tall guy – skinny, but handsome and with an engaging face – was keeping a crowd of teenagers rapt. Or at least as rapt as teenagers can be.
Being an exponential amount more interesting than the Curator of the Dead, most of the exhibition’s audience had also latched on to the newcomer’s presentation. The original guide didn’t seem to have noticed, though – Sophie still heard him droning on softly in the background.
The new arrival went on for a few more minutes, throwing out some impressively disgusting details, before telling his group to have a look round on their own. As the teens dispersed, Sophie – with faint horror – saw her dad move over to the tall guy.
“Hmmm, some presentation you gave there, son. Better than grand-pa over there, anyway!” As usual Sophie’s father made sure he could be heard by everyone in the room – she just hoped the curator was too deaf or senile to notice. “What you got here – some kind of tour?”
“Why, yessir – on-board activities for the younger passengers. Keeps ‘em out of mischief, and they might even learn something. Plus it gives their parents some time off, y’know?” The tall guy had an easy way with him, confident and uncowed by Vern’s strident approach, but respectful enough to avoid his ire.
Sophie’s mom chipped in at this point, and Sophie could have kissed her afterwards. “Wow, that sounds great! Hey, Vern – do you think, you know, Sophie might like to join in?”
Her dad looked sceptical. “Hmph. Hmmm. Well now. See here – how much does this cost?” he barked at the tall guy.
“Well sir, it’s free – comes as part of the package. A bit of education, some sports, that sort of thing – reckon the cruise company thinks it’s a good way to keep the kids and their folks happy.”
“Just you running it, son?”
“Nosir, there’s my colleague Stephen as well – he takes Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, I take Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. Sundays off.”
“Sunday off, eh. Doesn’t sound much good to me.” Sophie’s dad would grumble at free money, given half the chance.
“Well, a man’s got to have a chance to pray, sir, that’s what I always say.”
Sold.
Sophie’s mother weighed in again. “Oh Vern, let her go, it would be good for her. And, it would give us some more time together as well. You know... alone.”
Even more sold.
“Sophie, you’re going with the man. Anything we need to sign?” he asked the tall guy.
“Well now, how about we ask Sophie if she’s alright with that first? What do you say – and how old are you, anyway?” The tall guy looked at Sophie doubtfully.
“I’m eighteen – but I’d be really happy to join in...”
“Hmmm... well, you’re a little old....” the guy looked at the girl stood before him, saw the pleading in her big blue eyes. “... but I guess you can come along anyway – it won’t be a problem.”
As relief and joy filled Sophie’s face, her dad was already packing her off. “Great – she can start now! Sophie – you go with...” He looked up expectantly.
“Matt,” said the tall guy.
“... Matt, and meet us for dinner at 8pm sharp. And stay away from those candies...”
Even her dad’s final dig couldn’t dent Sophie’s euphoria – finally she was free, and for the rest of the day and potentially the rest of the cruise. Oh yes...
As the teenaged group moved off, Matt hung back until he was walking next to Sophie.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“So, your dad. He seems pretty... intense.”
Sophie laughed. “Yeah, that’s one word for it. I have some other words too, but...”
“No, no – that’s ok. I think I can guess.” Matt grinned at Sophie.
“Seriously, though – thanks for letting me come along. It was getting to the point where... I didn’t think I could, like, cope much longer.” Sophie cast her gaze down.
“Don’t sweat it – everyone’s folks can be a handful sometimes.” Matt clapped his large hands together. “So, here’s the program for this morning...”
*
A couple of hours later, and Matt’s group was back in the ship’s main lobby. “Ok guys, nice one – see you same time, same place tomorrow,” said the man himself.
The rest of the kids dispersed, but Sophie hung back. “Hey, Sophie – what can I do you for?” asked Matt with a smile.
“Uh, is that it? There’s only the morning session?”
“Well, yes. Guess I didn’t mention that bit earlier, huh?” Matt gave her a wink. “Tell you what – I won’t tell your old man if you don’t. Deal?”
“Uh, like YEAH deal!” Sophie grinned back. “Guess I’ll have to find something else to occupy my time in the afternoons, huh...”
Matt laughed. “Yeah, guess so! See you here tomorrow – in the meantime, you stay out of trouble, you hear?” He winked again and headed off.
Sophie stood there in the lobby, her eyes staring off into the middle distance, but her mind’s gaze surveying the world of possibilities that had just been opened up to her. By her sides her hands clenched and unclenched as the realisation of freedom fizzed through her veins.
Her parents, she reasoned, were creatures of habit – aside from the pool, the deck and their cabin they were extremely unlikely to go anywhere else on the ship. So all she had to do was watch where she went, and she’d be in the clear.
That just left her with the immediate problem of what to do for the afternoon. As if taking its cue, her stomach gurgled impressively. Sophie moved her hand down to her soft belly and rubbed it thoughtfully – it had been a while since breakfast, what there was of it.
Sophie headed up a couple of decks to a restaurant she and her folks had already been to – one where the lunchtime buffet had looked particularly enticing. Licking her lips and patting her tummy in anticipation she headed into the dining area – and promptly did a u-turn back out into the corridor.
They were there! Her parents were there! How could she have been so stupid – of course they had to eat. They hadn’t seen her – both of them were facing away from the main door, looking towards the windows – but that was more luck than anything else.
Sophie leaned against the wall outside the restaurant and waited for her heart to slow down. She looked down at her round tummy, and adopted a stern tone of voice. “See what you almost did? This is all your fault, you know...”
As she headed towards an alternative eating establishment, she tried to work out a strategy to solve the lunch problem. She’d just have to keep track of where her parents were going every day – and try to make sure she knew where they were going the next day as well. Sophie’s dad liked to plan – this should make it easier to steer him towards a particular restaurant. Beyond that, she would just have to be very, very careful.
Sophie leaned back in her chair, and suppressed a burp – along with the latent guilt she felt at filling her face with plate after plate of fattening goodness. As she surreptitiously undid the button on her jeans, she looked around at her fellow diners.
They were, she supposed, the usual crowd for a cruise – obvious honeymooners, young families, and lots and lots of retirees – or “wrinklies” as Sophie uncharitably thought of them, although most of them looked more energetic than her fellow college students.
There were a few diners that caught Sophie’s eye. One youngish man – she guessed late 20s – sat on his own with a book and, like Sophie, gently rubbing his slightly swollen gut. A truly noxious couple, both doing the staring-into-each-others’-eyes thing while clearing their plates. And another equally absorbed couple – although this time not on the same thing.
The man’s attention was certainly fixed on his partner – but the woman was completely focused on the plate in front of her, and the fork her husband – boyfriend? lover? – was using to shovel food into her mouth.
The woman, Sophie noticed, had already undone her shorts – her stomach was exposed to the world thanks to this and the belly-top she had worn. She wasn’t especially fat, or even chubby – Sophie guessed she had only started indulging on the cruise.
As she watched, the woman cleared the plate in front of her and leaned back in her chair, resting her hands on her slightly swollen stomach. The man whispered something into her ear and made to stand up, but the woman pulled on his arm in protest and he sat back down.
Sophie couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the woman shook her head and pointed to her belly, poking it for emphasis. The man leaned over and started rubbing her midriff gently – the woman looked uncomfortable with this at first, but then started to relax. All the while the man kept talking softly, and looking straight into his partner’s face.
Eventually the woman seemed to relent – she sighed, and nodded her head with a small smile. The man smiled back, gave her belly a pat, and stood up again and headed towards the buffet. Heading towards the dessert table directly behind Sophie, he came past her table – as he did so, Sophie could have sworn she caught him checking out her belly.
She looked down at the offending object – it did look pretty fat, straining her top slightly and with a clear indent over her navel. She massaged her gut – maybe this freedom thing wasn’t a good idea after all. If she kept on eating like this – which, being honest, seemed inevitable – she was going to put on weight. A lot of weight.
Looking back at the woman with the belly top, it seemed like she was having similar thoughts – her hands were on her stomach, and she had her cheeks puffed out as she surveyed the damage her lunch had done, so far.
As the man wandered back past Sophie – carrying a plate piled dangerously high with cakes and ice cream – she decided it was time to go. Walking out of the restaurant, the last thing Sophie saw was the woman’s face light up as she saw the pile of dessert – followed by a frown, presumably as she wondered how she was ever going to finish all that food.
Sophie debated heading onto deck – but decided it wasn’t worth the risk. Instead, feeling dull with all the food inside her stuffed belly, she decided to head back to her cabin.
As soon as the door closed behind her, Sophie stripped off her tight jeans and top, tossing them to the side of the room. She paused for a moment, then let out an enormous and satisfying belch. Feeling a lot more comfortable, she lay down on her side on top of the bed covers, and turned on the TV.
With some mindless action movie washing over her, Sophie began to gently massage her stomach, trying to let some of the tension out. She moved her hand in gentle circles across the slightly taut flesh of her belly, occasionally probing her deepening navel.
She felt her flab shift and bunch under her touch, felt the difference in pressure between the flesh above her stomach and the soft fat of her lower belly, felt the warm and somehow comforting roundness of her abdomen.
Sophie curled up slightly, causing her nascent fat rolls to bunch slightly. Every part of her – arms, breasts, legs, bum, hips, cheeks – felt soft and yielding. She moved her plumpening body parts against each other, getting a warm tingle as various limbs rubbed their flesh over the rest of her.
“Mmmmm. I’m getting sooo faaat. Sooo faaa...”
Sophie dozed off.
(Continued in post nine of this thread)
[Author's note: This is a parallel tale to 'George Ahoy' set on the same cruise. As before this will be in several parts over the coming weeks (or months - bit busy IRL at the moment...) Any queries, comments or suggestions, please feel free to post, PM or email me on gus7021 AT gmail dot com]
Sophie Ships Out
(Vol. 2 of the "Cruise Ship Chronicles")
by Gus7021
(Vol. 2 of the "Cruise Ship Chronicles")
by Gus7021
PART ONE
“... and leave that minibar alo–”
Slam.
Sophie surveyed her cabin. By virtue of some screaming arguments, and finally a threat not to go on the cruise at all, she had persuaded her parents to give her a room to herself. The fact that she was 18 hadn’t seemed to deter her father from putting her on a separate bed in the same cabin as her parents – but rationality wasn’t his strong suit.
The only reason, Sophie though, that he had been so insistent was that he couldn’t bear the idea of her being on her own for her first summer in her college course. In other parents this might have been touching – unfortunately for Sophie, her dad’s actions were not in the least selfless or altruistic.
The girl pondered her plight while experimentally bouncing on the bed, and then checking out the bathroom. Her cabin was fairly small and basic – on a mid-level deck, but with a window – but Sophie wasn’t complaining. It was a long way from her parent’s luxurious suite in terms of amenities – but it was also a long way in terms of distance.
Sophie walked over to the forbidden minibar, and looked inside. It had an extensive selection – the cruise company had even left the booze in, despite her father’s attempts to have it removed. She had a sneaking suspicion that this was more thanks to his hectoring tone than the incompetence of the company.
She took out two of the candy bars and the packet of chips, opened one Twix and flung the other items to the bed. As Sophie munched the chocolate, her other hand unconsciously rubbed her belly. She walked over to the mirror on the door of the closet, and looked herself over.
Sophie stood around five-foot-six in her socks; her thick blonde hair reached just below her shoulders, framing an oval face with bright blue eyes. Up to that point, she was the picture of her mother – except for her weight.
Where Sophie’s mom was thin to the point of emaciation, Sophie herself could be euphemistically described as curvaceous. In reality, ‘chubby’ would probably do her figure justice – except to her father, who simply called her “a fat pig”.
Standing in front of the mirror in her cabin, Sophie’s figure strained her clothes slightly – the blue buttoned shirt pulled at her belly, breasts and hips, and her jeans looked almost painted on. As she chewed on the chocolate, her nascent double chin became clear to see, flowing into cheeks that were changing her face from oval to round.
She finished the bar, tossing the wrapper into the trash can, and reached over to the bed for the chips. As she began to pull at the packet, though, she stopped suddenly, and almost did a double-take.
“Oh, crap. I’ve done it again.” She spoke aloud to the empty room.
Sophie stood in contemplation for a moment, her gaze off in the middle distance, looking towards but not seeing the grimy port buildings through the glass.
Then she opened the chips anyway.
***
When Sophie had left for college just under a year earlier, she had gone with a generous allowance, the blessings of her parents, and her father’s admonition to “watch her weight” ringing in her ears.
What followed was a fairly predictable pattern of events. Sophie managed to keep her weight fairly stable up to Christmas, only gaining five pounds – which were immediately noticed by her father. But after the winter break, the combined pressures of study and socialising went to work.
It started with missing the gym – Sophie’s visits dropped from three times a week to two, then sometimes two, then one. Then one every other week. Then never.
At the same time, her resolve to stay away from takeaway and fast food started to crumble – by April she and her roommate were phoning through impressively long orders to the various pizza, burger and Chinese joints in a five-mile radius around the dorm.
It didn’t help that Sophie’s roommate – a tall girl with a sweet tooth and the apparent metabolism of a hummingbird on smack – took the lead in ordering the reams of cardboard cartons. Sophie herself was just an unwitting accomplice, a sidekick to her roomie’s Junkfood Avenger act.
Consequently, Sophie was never conscious of ordering – or eating – all that much. Her body, though, was extremely conscious, and managed to add 20 pounds of soft flab to her body between Christmas and June.
To say her father freaked would be a slight understatement. As far as he was concerned, Sophie couldn’t have done worse than if she’d admitted to being a junkie whore as she stepped back into the family home.
For Sophie, it was a rude awakening – not only had she not realised that she was eating more, but she had never consciously clocked her growing body. She had been doing her clothes shopping in a group, and among the swirl of jeans and tops and sweats going back and forth between changing rooms, Sophie didn’t notice what sizes she ended up with, let alone the fact that these were going up every other month or so.
As Sophie weathered the storm of her dad’s anger – not helped by her ineffectual mother’s bleating comments (“Honey, have you just tried eating less?”) – she discovered, to her alarm, that she had become a compulsive snacker.
Deprived of its large meals, Sophie’s hungry belly would continually seek out sustenance throughout the day, cheerfully co-opting her feet and hands in its efforts to keep itself in calories. Her mind on something else entirely, Sophie would suddenly discover herself reaching for a high-fat snack from a shelf – sometimes in her kitchen, but more often than not in the 7-11 down the street from her house.
She was smart enough to keep most of the evidence of her eating hidden from her parents – she only used trash cans well away from the house, or else snuck out the candy packets or empty ice-cream tubs in her backpack when she left.
But one piece of evidence she couldn’t hide – her ever-growing belly. At least once a day her dad would eye his daughter’s midsection, and turn a little redder. Roughly every three days this would continue into a barked rebuke or threat, up to and including sending Sophie off to fat camp.
After acknowledging this was not a realistic option – one anecdotal story of fat campers gaining weight while away probably helped – her dad realised he would have to choose between taking Sophie on the cruise, or leaving her unsupervised at home – and in striking distance of the 7-11.
The cruise won by a head.
***
“How do you like your cabin, sweetie?”
“It’s great, mom. How’s yours?”
“Oh it’s lovely. Isn’t it lovely, Vern? It’s got a great big window, and a bed, and an en-suite... It’s lovely.”
“That’s nice, mom. Uh... dad? What d’you think of the ship?” Sophie looked nervously over at her father, who was quietly simmering across the table.
“Hmph. Too many restaurants. And too many... you know. Coloureds.”
“Oh, daaad, jeez! You can’t say that – it’s not the frickin 1950s any more, you know.”
Her dad was unrepentant. “Well it’s true. And don’t swear – it’s almost as disgusting as your eating habits.”
Sophie muttered something under her breath, and cast her eyes down to the plate of salad – undressed – in front of her. They were having their first meal together onboard, and Sophie had already determined it would be one of their last.
After Sophie had picked listlessly at the limp leaves for a while, a waiter mercifully took her offending plate away – and less mercifully replaced it with one bearing steamed fish – no sauce – and vegetables – no butter. Her father’s choice, of course.
The ultimate humiliation came shortly after the remnants of their mains had been cleared away. “No, we won’t be needing dessert – she’s on a diet, packed on too much weight in college,” confided her father to the friendly waiter, while nodding towards Sophie. The girl felt her face turn beetroot red, and tears pricked the corner of her eyes – but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of crying.
*
Back in her room, a little while later, Sophie let out a shuddering sigh – her anger and frustration and sorrow fighting to be expelled from her lungs.
A litany of unprintable expletives rolled around her head as she paced the small cabin, occasionally pausing to kick something half-heartedly. After a few turns round the room. Sophie reached into the minibar and pulled out another chocolate bar.
She was halfway through the bar when she realised she was eating. Slowly she stopped chewing, stopped, pacing, stopped everything. After a few seconds the only noise in the cabin was Sophie’s breathing – growing louder, and deeper, and angrier.
Then, with a scream she launched the half-eaten bar at the window, where it left a sticky trail down to the floor. Sobbing uncontrollably now, Sophie knelt in front of the minibar and began to rip out every item of confectionary inside, tearing them to shreds as she poured a screaming torrent of abuse and invective at each in turn.
“Frickin stupid frigging chocolate – you’re making me so frigging fat! Why can’t you just stop! Why can’t you just...” Sophie broke down again, sobbing over the still-open door of the minibar as the occasional muffled expletive emerged from her quivering mouth.
Eventually she pulled herself together, and with a few sniffs put herself to bed. Under the covers, she watched the now-distant shore lights slide slowly past the ship as it headed southwards.
Sophie curled into a foetal position, and fell asleep.
***
It was a few days into the cruise, and Sophie was ready to kill someone – her father was first in line.
He just wasn’t giving her... space! Any space! At all! When she woke up, it was to the sound of him banging on her door; minutes later she would be virtually frog-marched to breakfast – muesli, no milk or yoghurt – then to the deck, or pool or recreation room, for “family time”.
Sophie’s mother had obviously tried her best, in her ineffectual way, and her dad was playing the cheerful, energetic family man for all he was worth. He would jolly the three of them along to genteel ship-board events, and happily bawl out encouragement as “his girls” tried their hands at curling, or bowling, or knitting.
But Sophie and her father knew each other too well – she could see the fire of anger and loathing burning within his eyes, and she guessed he could see the resentment spilling out of every one of her pores as well.
Still they played the game – as much for Sophie’s mom as anything else. She hated to see her daughter and husband argue.
As Sophie trudged along the corridor at the back of the three-strong family crocodile, she offered up a silent prayer to any being that might be listening for deliverance.
Marching ahead, Vern briefed his troops. “Right, you... family. Today we’re going to stretch our brains and learn all about – sea cucumbers! They’ve got a special exhibition on in the gallery. Isn’t that exciting?”
Sophie added a few more extreme categories – perfect storm, Kraken, intercontinental thermonuclear Armageddon – to her desired escape routes.
It was everything she ever feared – and more. Not only was the exhibition a textbook example on how to kill a subject deader than its stuffed exhibits, it was also attended to by possibly the least exciting person Sophie had ever seen. And she’d been to Delaware.
He looked like Hans Moleman’s older, less racy brother, and spoke in. Slow hesitant. Sentences that. Never really. Seemed to. End.
“Now here. We see. A fine. Example. Of the. Greater crested. Sea cucum. Ber. The greater. Crested. Sea cucumber. Is mainly. To be found. Off the. Coast of...”
GAAAAAH!
While Moleman Major droned on, Sophie committed a gratuitous act of genocide in her head, using only the inert form of a sea cucumber.
She glanced around wildly for an escape route – and found it.
“Ok, guys, gather round! Now, take a look at these little fellows. Don’t look much, do they? Well, you’re right – they’re not. But did you know there are some places where you can find more than one thousand of these critters in a square meter? And not only that – there are some fish that actually live in this guy’s anus. Can you believe that? This thing could’ve had something living up its butt?”
A tall guy – skinny, but handsome and with an engaging face – was keeping a crowd of teenagers rapt. Or at least as rapt as teenagers can be.
Being an exponential amount more interesting than the Curator of the Dead, most of the exhibition’s audience had also latched on to the newcomer’s presentation. The original guide didn’t seem to have noticed, though – Sophie still heard him droning on softly in the background.
The new arrival went on for a few more minutes, throwing out some impressively disgusting details, before telling his group to have a look round on their own. As the teens dispersed, Sophie – with faint horror – saw her dad move over to the tall guy.
“Hmmm, some presentation you gave there, son. Better than grand-pa over there, anyway!” As usual Sophie’s father made sure he could be heard by everyone in the room – she just hoped the curator was too deaf or senile to notice. “What you got here – some kind of tour?”
“Why, yessir – on-board activities for the younger passengers. Keeps ‘em out of mischief, and they might even learn something. Plus it gives their parents some time off, y’know?” The tall guy had an easy way with him, confident and uncowed by Vern’s strident approach, but respectful enough to avoid his ire.
Sophie’s mom chipped in at this point, and Sophie could have kissed her afterwards. “Wow, that sounds great! Hey, Vern – do you think, you know, Sophie might like to join in?”
Her dad looked sceptical. “Hmph. Hmmm. Well now. See here – how much does this cost?” he barked at the tall guy.
“Well sir, it’s free – comes as part of the package. A bit of education, some sports, that sort of thing – reckon the cruise company thinks it’s a good way to keep the kids and their folks happy.”
“Just you running it, son?”
“Nosir, there’s my colleague Stephen as well – he takes Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, I take Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. Sundays off.”
“Sunday off, eh. Doesn’t sound much good to me.” Sophie’s dad would grumble at free money, given half the chance.
“Well, a man’s got to have a chance to pray, sir, that’s what I always say.”
Sold.
Sophie’s mother weighed in again. “Oh Vern, let her go, it would be good for her. And, it would give us some more time together as well. You know... alone.”
Even more sold.
“Sophie, you’re going with the man. Anything we need to sign?” he asked the tall guy.
“Well now, how about we ask Sophie if she’s alright with that first? What do you say – and how old are you, anyway?” The tall guy looked at Sophie doubtfully.
“I’m eighteen – but I’d be really happy to join in...”
“Hmmm... well, you’re a little old....” the guy looked at the girl stood before him, saw the pleading in her big blue eyes. “... but I guess you can come along anyway – it won’t be a problem.”
As relief and joy filled Sophie’s face, her dad was already packing her off. “Great – she can start now! Sophie – you go with...” He looked up expectantly.
“Matt,” said the tall guy.
“... Matt, and meet us for dinner at 8pm sharp. And stay away from those candies...”
Even her dad’s final dig couldn’t dent Sophie’s euphoria – finally she was free, and for the rest of the day and potentially the rest of the cruise. Oh yes...
As the teenaged group moved off, Matt hung back until he was walking next to Sophie.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“So, your dad. He seems pretty... intense.”
Sophie laughed. “Yeah, that’s one word for it. I have some other words too, but...”
“No, no – that’s ok. I think I can guess.” Matt grinned at Sophie.
“Seriously, though – thanks for letting me come along. It was getting to the point where... I didn’t think I could, like, cope much longer.” Sophie cast her gaze down.
“Don’t sweat it – everyone’s folks can be a handful sometimes.” Matt clapped his large hands together. “So, here’s the program for this morning...”
*
A couple of hours later, and Matt’s group was back in the ship’s main lobby. “Ok guys, nice one – see you same time, same place tomorrow,” said the man himself.
The rest of the kids dispersed, but Sophie hung back. “Hey, Sophie – what can I do you for?” asked Matt with a smile.
“Uh, is that it? There’s only the morning session?”
“Well, yes. Guess I didn’t mention that bit earlier, huh?” Matt gave her a wink. “Tell you what – I won’t tell your old man if you don’t. Deal?”
“Uh, like YEAH deal!” Sophie grinned back. “Guess I’ll have to find something else to occupy my time in the afternoons, huh...”
Matt laughed. “Yeah, guess so! See you here tomorrow – in the meantime, you stay out of trouble, you hear?” He winked again and headed off.
Sophie stood there in the lobby, her eyes staring off into the middle distance, but her mind’s gaze surveying the world of possibilities that had just been opened up to her. By her sides her hands clenched and unclenched as the realisation of freedom fizzed through her veins.
Her parents, she reasoned, were creatures of habit – aside from the pool, the deck and their cabin they were extremely unlikely to go anywhere else on the ship. So all she had to do was watch where she went, and she’d be in the clear.
That just left her with the immediate problem of what to do for the afternoon. As if taking its cue, her stomach gurgled impressively. Sophie moved her hand down to her soft belly and rubbed it thoughtfully – it had been a while since breakfast, what there was of it.
Sophie headed up a couple of decks to a restaurant she and her folks had already been to – one where the lunchtime buffet had looked particularly enticing. Licking her lips and patting her tummy in anticipation she headed into the dining area – and promptly did a u-turn back out into the corridor.
They were there! Her parents were there! How could she have been so stupid – of course they had to eat. They hadn’t seen her – both of them were facing away from the main door, looking towards the windows – but that was more luck than anything else.
Sophie leaned against the wall outside the restaurant and waited for her heart to slow down. She looked down at her round tummy, and adopted a stern tone of voice. “See what you almost did? This is all your fault, you know...”
As she headed towards an alternative eating establishment, she tried to work out a strategy to solve the lunch problem. She’d just have to keep track of where her parents were going every day – and try to make sure she knew where they were going the next day as well. Sophie’s dad liked to plan – this should make it easier to steer him towards a particular restaurant. Beyond that, she would just have to be very, very careful.
*
Sophie leaned back in her chair, and suppressed a burp – along with the latent guilt she felt at filling her face with plate after plate of fattening goodness. As she surreptitiously undid the button on her jeans, she looked around at her fellow diners.
They were, she supposed, the usual crowd for a cruise – obvious honeymooners, young families, and lots and lots of retirees – or “wrinklies” as Sophie uncharitably thought of them, although most of them looked more energetic than her fellow college students.
There were a few diners that caught Sophie’s eye. One youngish man – she guessed late 20s – sat on his own with a book and, like Sophie, gently rubbing his slightly swollen gut. A truly noxious couple, both doing the staring-into-each-others’-eyes thing while clearing their plates. And another equally absorbed couple – although this time not on the same thing.
The man’s attention was certainly fixed on his partner – but the woman was completely focused on the plate in front of her, and the fork her husband – boyfriend? lover? – was using to shovel food into her mouth.
The woman, Sophie noticed, had already undone her shorts – her stomach was exposed to the world thanks to this and the belly-top she had worn. She wasn’t especially fat, or even chubby – Sophie guessed she had only started indulging on the cruise.
As she watched, the woman cleared the plate in front of her and leaned back in her chair, resting her hands on her slightly swollen stomach. The man whispered something into her ear and made to stand up, but the woman pulled on his arm in protest and he sat back down.
Sophie couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the woman shook her head and pointed to her belly, poking it for emphasis. The man leaned over and started rubbing her midriff gently – the woman looked uncomfortable with this at first, but then started to relax. All the while the man kept talking softly, and looking straight into his partner’s face.
Eventually the woman seemed to relent – she sighed, and nodded her head with a small smile. The man smiled back, gave her belly a pat, and stood up again and headed towards the buffet. Heading towards the dessert table directly behind Sophie, he came past her table – as he did so, Sophie could have sworn she caught him checking out her belly.
She looked down at the offending object – it did look pretty fat, straining her top slightly and with a clear indent over her navel. She massaged her gut – maybe this freedom thing wasn’t a good idea after all. If she kept on eating like this – which, being honest, seemed inevitable – she was going to put on weight. A lot of weight.
Looking back at the woman with the belly top, it seemed like she was having similar thoughts – her hands were on her stomach, and she had her cheeks puffed out as she surveyed the damage her lunch had done, so far.
As the man wandered back past Sophie – carrying a plate piled dangerously high with cakes and ice cream – she decided it was time to go. Walking out of the restaurant, the last thing Sophie saw was the woman’s face light up as she saw the pile of dessert – followed by a frown, presumably as she wondered how she was ever going to finish all that food.
Sophie debated heading onto deck – but decided it wasn’t worth the risk. Instead, feeling dull with all the food inside her stuffed belly, she decided to head back to her cabin.
As soon as the door closed behind her, Sophie stripped off her tight jeans and top, tossing them to the side of the room. She paused for a moment, then let out an enormous and satisfying belch. Feeling a lot more comfortable, she lay down on her side on top of the bed covers, and turned on the TV.
With some mindless action movie washing over her, Sophie began to gently massage her stomach, trying to let some of the tension out. She moved her hand in gentle circles across the slightly taut flesh of her belly, occasionally probing her deepening navel.
She felt her flab shift and bunch under her touch, felt the difference in pressure between the flesh above her stomach and the soft fat of her lower belly, felt the warm and somehow comforting roundness of her abdomen.
Sophie curled up slightly, causing her nascent fat rolls to bunch slightly. Every part of her – arms, breasts, legs, bum, hips, cheeks – felt soft and yielding. She moved her plumpening body parts against each other, getting a warm tingle as various limbs rubbed their flesh over the rest of her.
“Mmmmm. I’m getting sooo faaat. Sooo faaa...”
Sophie dozed off.
(Continued in post nine of this thread)
