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Fat Is Beautiful (Rough Draft)


Augmentor

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On 10/2/2018 at 10:27 PM, Augmentor said:

It might seem that way, but no...just haven't had much time to devote to it recently.

But, I promise, there is more on the way.

 

Do you have it mostly plotted out? I can obviously see that an ambitiously written story like this can be time consuming and can also sometimes result in some frustration in keeping it innovative while still reaching a desired end. You're a skilled fiction writer, and I hope you consider doing some other genres as well, such as "mainstream" science fiction.

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  • 2 months later...
  • 6 months later...

 

Part 20

              Lina lazed on the great cybernetic recliner, her hands resting atop her globe of a belly, tautly bulging and seeming all the more ball-like with the luster of the blue raspberry bodysuit. Acutely aware of the slowly mounting pressure in her stomach, and fearing that she was nearing the bursting point, Lina remained as still as she could, taking slow, measured breaths. Although the worst of the ache had been alleviated by the lotion Mim had given her, Lina hardly dared to move.

               Lina felt utterly disengaged from her surroundings. She had been so isolated these last few weeks, and her mind molded and conditioned to such an extent, that she could no longer be certain of anything. She had the curious sensation of being unsure even of her physical proportions. She felt frail and insubstantial, but the gravid balloon in her belly belied that notion. She was not sure whether she was the tall, willowy young woman she had been when she landed in this place, or a speck of a girl, so tiny that a cake towered like a mountain over her. Lina could not quite say whether she was large or small, tall or short, thin or fat. She seemed to exist in these states simultaneously, as though her tight garment were some sort of Schrödinger’s catsuit.

               One conclusion seemed inescapable, and that was that she was trapped, and she had all but resigned herself to it. She was losing her fighting spirit. Why hadn't she admitted it to herself before? Her sense of self was being altered, day by day, without her being fully cognizant of it. The recurring simulations in which Lina was immersed were part of a regimen designed to keep her from distinguishing between physical reality and the merely virtual. She was losing her certitude as to whether anything were real, including herself. Lina understood now that this was why she had been kept separate from Daesti, with only vids and Mim to keep her company. It was all by design.

               The hazy, hypnotic sounds that lulled her to sleep had been filling her dreams somehow with images of fatness and gluttony. In her waking state she could try to block these thoughts, but asleep she was defenseless. These ideas had breached the gates of her mind and she was succumbing subconsciously. Even the sweet aromas that were piped into the room had piqued her cravings and whittled down her willpower, though she had tried to remain as impervious as she could.

               These constant tests of temptation were exhausting, and Lina was weary. Weary of being endlessly on the defensive, weary of this excruciating self-denial. Weary of everything.

               She understood now that this all had been orchestrated for just such an effect. She knew Mim had been trying to manipulate her, but all the while the directress had seemed so ham-handedly obvious about it all, and Lina foolishly had conflated obviousness with ineffectiveness. In her former overconfidence, Lina had thought she could outwit Mim, or at least make a show of brute resistance. Lina had convinced herself that she had been successful in withstanding this barrage on her senses, but it had subtly overtaken her just the same. But of course Mim had been accomplishing her goals without Lina’s conscious realization. Mim had let Lina think that Lina had won.

               And now Lina had an awful epiphany: Mim had been working on her this whole time, making Lina’s own body receptive to the fate Mim had intended for her. She was already being turned into a fatty in all but appearance, and all her defiance had amounted to nothing. Now it would only take some gentle nudging in the right direction to actualize Mim’s terrible plan.

              At present, Lina's attention was drawn again to her belly. Just at the moment when she was sure she was about to pop, Lina sighed a great heaving sigh and was met with the unexpected sensation of relief. The balloon had apparently begun to contract, and her gut along with it. When the pressure had finally subsided, Lina felt an unfathomable emptiness in her belly.

               Mim strode purposefully and authoritatively into the room at that moment. Evidently she had been monitoring feedback from the bodysuit, waiting for the precise time to make her appearance.

               And with Mim’s entrance, Lina was swiftly brought back to reality. As though her perception were all at once expanded into a bubble of clarity, Lina was now hyper-aware of the circular room and all of its implements and accouterments, the glass walls that doubled as vidscreens, the many monitors and consoles and blinking indicator lights. This room that previously had felt like a cell, now seemed like her artificial habitat, as if she had known no other existence.

               Lina realized that she had underestimated Mim. Whatever Lina’s estimation of her had been before, Lina saw her as absolutely authoritative at this moment. Though nothing had changed externally—after all, Mim was the same woman Lina once had elbowed in the gut—it was for all intents and purposes as though Mim were 200 feet tall. As far as Lina was concerned, Mim was now the strongest woman in the universe, and she knew better than to lift a finger to her, for fear that Mim might trod upon her and squash her.

               “Well, looks like you’ve finally deflated,” said Mim, giving Lina's belly a thump. “Now we can get started with the de-thinnification process.”

               “I'll stay thinnified, if it's all the same to you,” said Lina, who thought a display of defiant nonchalance might be just the thing to steel herself up for what might be her last stand.

               But Lina was far too anxious for such a display, and her quip was not made with her usual aplomb. Not only did Lina’s attempt at humor fall flat, it did nothing to allay her fears, and she was instead now overwhelmingly anxious. She rebuked herself for not attempting to stay in Mim’s good graces.

               Lina’s mind raced. Would Mim prove to be a woman of her word? Surely by now the deadline Mim had imposed must be looming, and if Mim were earnest about keeping up her end of the bargain, freedom was just a modicum of willpower away.

               Mim made a summoning gesture across the room. A panel in one of the consoles opened and from it glided an automated platform which configured itself into a kind of dais with a wide padded tulip chair in the center of it, and on this Mim sat slightly elevated above Lina as she maneuvered next to the recliner.

               Mim looked down at Lina matter-of-factly. “You and I are going to have a conversation, my dear. And you will speak to me civilly.”

               Even to her own surprise, Lina had no retort, and instead she simply listened attentively. It seemed the brazenness had been rooted out of her, and she now found herself abashed and obedient.

               “First, Lina, we need to get you in the proper mindset. Now let's just see whether you've been learning and absorbing everything all this while.”

               Mim made a few gestures in the air, and a mesmerizing hum began to fill the room. The lights dimmed and the lounger began to reconfigure itself, so that Lina was soon in a recumbent position.

               “Tell me, Lina…” Mim continued in a slow and deliberate tone. “Do you know where you are?"

               “Fatropolis.”

               “That’s right. And what is the law in Fatropolis?”

               “No skinnies allowed.”

               “And what are you, Lina?”

               “I'm a skinny.”

               “So what must you do now to rectify this situation?”

               Lina tensed. She was overcome with restlessness and yet equal parts powerlessness, and she could not budge. She dutifully replied to Mim. “I must attain my highest weight.”

               “And what will you be when you have attained your highest weight, Lina?”

               “I'll be…” Lina swallowed hard. Even now, as her mind gave way to Mim’s urgings, despite her conditioning and the relentless subliminal messages to which she had been subjected, Lina had difficulty even uttering the word. That word. Certainly it was unthinkable that she would ever use such an adjective to describe herself. She looked to Mim, who nodded and with a silent glance seemed to give Lina permission to say what Lina did not want to say. “I'll be fat.”

               It was such a peculiar word to say: Fat. Somehow Lina spoke the word with a strange emphasis, gave it a sharp spin, like a recalcitrant child uttering a curse word, It was just as that moment that Lina's belly began to rumble.

               Mim grinned in a manner most unsettling. "And now, Lina,” she said, “let us begin.”

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  • 2 weeks later...

To all who've commented, thank you for the good words.

I'll try to (very belatedly) answer a question...

curiotwo: 

On 10/4/2018 at 6:49 PM, curiotwo said:

Do you have it mostly plotted out? I can obviously see that an ambitiously written story like this can be time consuming and can also sometimes result in some frustration in keeping it innovative while still reaching a desired end. You're a skilled fiction writer, and I hope you consider doing some other genres as well, such as "mainstream" science fiction.

I do have the basic trajectory of the story already plotted out. In fact, I wrote the beginning and the ending around the same time. I have a pretty clear idea about where I want to story to go, so the more recent installments are actually some of the oldest material.

I have quite a few other projects underway that are not WG-related at all. A couple of these are sort of vaguely sci-fi, but it's a difficult genre in which to write seriously. I'm not sure it's even possible to write truly futuristic "science fiction" anymore, since the technological reality nowadays is at least as interesting as anything a fiction writer could dream up. William Gibson is arguably the last great innovator in the genre (which is not to say there aren't plenty of other fine writers out there...just that it's much more difficult to be prescient about what the future might hold}. Most science fiction these days in probably more accurately described in terms of some subgenre, like space fantasy or retro futurism or dystopic fiction, and all that's fine, of course. I'm not sure it matters very much, since most people have a general sense of what "sci-fi" means even though it covers a lot of ground.

In any case, I have been working on the next installment of "Fat Is Beautiful," and I'm pretty confident there won't be a year-and-a-half lapse this time around....

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  • 3 months later...

Part 21

               “Hungry, Lina?” Mim teased, in a maddeningly casual manner. 

               As if on cue, Lina felt a sharp pang in the pit of her stomach. She winced and clutched her abdomen.

               “My patience has worn thin, Lina. And I don’t have patience for anything thin. So, let's try this again,” said Mim. “I hope with more luck this time.”  

               From a small hatch in a console she produced a metallic circlet similar to the one she had used several weeks prior, when she had attempted to determine what it was that Lina craved—which, at the time, was nothing. But things had been much different then, when Lina was still possessed of her prodigious willpower.

               “We have been preparing for this for a long time,” Mim declared with an air of finality, as she placed the circlet around Lina’s temples.

               A series of panels spread out from behind the cybernetic recliner’s headrest, partially encircling Lina's head. The recliner and its many sensors, the circlet, WIDE-AS and its mind interface—all were working in conjunction to search Lina’s unconscious thoughts for a weakness…a food craving, the thing that would finally break her.

               Images gradually coalesced before Lina’s eyes, a visual parade of foodstuffs. Only this time, there was no surplus of willpower as a buffer against these temptations. Lina was much too hungry and exhausted.

               Her stomach growled again.

               “Now,” said Mim. “Let’s just see if we can find out exactly what it is that can whet your appetite.”

               Mim carefully observed several readouts as Lina tensed up in the chair and tried to exert any remnant of her rapidly dwindling determination, and when she realized that even this was failing her, she tried her utmost to lose herself in a sort of generalized hunger, focusing on the emptiness of her stomach. 

               Mim modulated her voice so that it took on a sort of sing-song quality. “You must be so very hungry by now, Lina. You can't hold out forever. I just need you to think clearly for me. You can do that, can't you, Lina? There's no harm in thoughts, is there? I just need you to think of a food that has brought you intense joy, and how perfect that would taste right now. What is that food, Lina?”

               Lina knew what Mim was doing and tried to clutter her own mind, forcing her thoughts to race wildly between unrelated images and mental white noise. But now she was aware of a comforting, warm, and vaguely familiar aroma in the air, something wonderful and rich and sweet-smelling.

               Images of dozens of foods flashed through Lina's mind, first by category, then becoming more specific. Holographic manifestations of these foods began to come into focus, multiplying until they became a parade of culinary imagery.

               “You feel that hunger gnawing away at you, Lina? You can end that right now, and for good. You can finally be satisfied. What a relief it will be to just give in.” Mim’s voice was slowing down. “And you can just give in. There is nothing to worry about. You can be fat and happy. Fat is beautiful, Lina. Fat is where it’s at. Your friend Daesti already knows this, and remember how contented she looked when I gave you that sneak preview of her new figure! You can be that content, too. Think of what you'd like to eat, Lina. Is it something savory? Something sweet? Oh...what's this? Some positive biofeedback on something sweet!”

               Lina’s autonomic responses were betraying her; her heart was racing now, her stomach rumbling. She could not stop thinking of exactly what she did not want to think of. The tears welled up again. “Please,” Lina pleaded pitifully. “Stop messing with my thoughts.”

               “Someone has a sweet tooth,” taunted Mim.

               Lina shook her head from side to side, choking back sobs.

               The chair adjusted itself and now Lina was fully reclined. Mim walked up alongside her and patted Lina’s belly.

               “Taut like a drum,” Mim said. “Listen to that hollow sound. How empty your belly is. So much room in there, begging to be filled. Let’s get some food in you.”

               Lina squirmed.

               “Let’s narrow it down a little further,” Mim said. “It’s only a matter of time."

               There were only desserts now in the cavalcade of images dancing in Lina’s field of vision. The representations floating before her were so lifelike and enticing that Lina grasped at the air. She felt so ravenous that she could have wolfed down any of them. But they were only images, without substance, she reminded herself.

               But at last there appeared an image of something that she absolutely could not refuse...if only it were real. 

               For the most fleeting fraction of a second, Lina recalled a confection that she had tasted exactly once in her life…on her 10th birthday.

               It was a rare treat, and the most decadent-tasting thing she had ever eaten up to that point…a cake with the most wonderfully vivid pinkish-orange-ish frosting, with a flavor like the sweetest nectar and the richest cream blended together, and pieces of glazed fruit of an even more vibrant hue on top. She had never tasted anything like it, before or since. Cake had always been just cake to her, but this was something magnificent. And on the side, to match, had been ice cream of the same flavor, with little flecks of fruit throughout.

               It all came back to her as Mim made a jubilant pronouncement.

               “Gliesian butterbell!” said Mim triumphantly. “Ah, so that’s it!”

               For Lina, who had always been a picky eater, this was the singular treat she had ever thought she could eat for the rest of her life and be perfectly content, the one thing she could have allowed herself to gorge upon.

               But that was before the blight hit. Lina half-recollected the news stories from years before. The problem eluded the brightest botanical minds, and soon Gliesian butterbell became, if not entirely extinct, then certainly at least no longer a viable commercial crop.

               The Gliesian in its name referred to the tropical planet Gliese 832c, to which it was indigenous, while butterbell was the name given to both the sizable fruit and the gorgeous fragrant flower that bore it. The fruit itself was uniquely shaped, with fleshy rings around its circumference that resembled nothing so much as rolls of fat. 

               "Gliesian butterbell!” Mim was practically singing the words now, and with great glee. “Gliesian butterbell! Well, Lina, you really do have exquisite taste. And the delicious irony! It's one of the most incredibly fattening foods ever discovered. Gliesian butterbell!"

               “But it doesn’t exist anymore,” countered Lina. 

               “Oh, but it does!” said Mim decisively. “We had our most brilliant botanists on the problem from the beginning. It took years, but they managed to save it after all! And now it’s a hearty crop again. I’m so glad. It would have been such a shame for it to go extinct.”

               Mim was already speaking via vidlink with someone in the kitchen. “Can you whip up some Gliesian butterbell pudding for our dear scrawny guest…with some refeeding formula blended in?”

               “Right away,” came the reply.

               It arrived on a shiny silver tray in a fancy, capacious dessert glass with an elegant spoon beside it. 

               Mim sat next to Lina and deliberately and theatrically waved the spoon about and held the dessert glass tantalizingly in front of her. “Is this what you want, Lina?”

               Lina’s eyes were wide, her mouth watering.

               Mim dipped the spoon into the dessert glass and held it under Lina’s nose. “Here it is, Lina. Your long-lost heart’s desire. I bet you thought you’d never see the likes of it again, hmm? It’s right here. Literally under your nose. You can’t possibly tell me you don’t want some.”

               Lina was trembling all over now. She wanted to swipe the dessert glass from Mim’s hands and pound down its contents in in one gulp. Only some last vestige of restraint prevented her from doing so.

               “I know what you’re doing!” shouted Lina. “And I won’t play along! You can’t make me beg for food!”

               Mim held the spoon held it up to Lina's mouth, but Lina turned her face to the opposite side and pressed her lips tight even though at that moment she wanted the butterbell pudding more than anything else in the whole galaxy.

               Mim continued to taunt her. She popped an overflowing spoonful of the creamy concoction into her own mouth and cooed rapturously. “So incredibly smooth,” she purred as she narrowed her eyelids in delight. “You’d better have some, Lina, before I eat the whole thing.”

               Mim repeatedly gestured to Lina to offer some of the coveted dessert, and each time instead consumed a spoonful herself.

               Minutes passed and somehow Lina still managed to remain steadfast.

               But then her stomach rumbled once more and she began to feel desperately, wildly, excruciatingly ravenous. She was sure she was starving. She was sure she would crumble into dust at any moment. Unless…

               At last, a single tear rolled down each of Lina’s cheeks. She began to sob softly. “Could I...could I just have a little bit, please?” she said in a tiny, helpless voice.

               “I’m sorry, what was that?” teased Mim. “I couldn’t quite make it out. It almost sounded like you might have been asking for something. A little bit of my Gliesian butterbell pudding, maybe? Did I hear that right?”

               The tearful Lina nodded meekly.

               “I don’t know, Lina. I just don’t know. All this time we’ve spent here, and now you’re just going to give in?”

               “What do you want from me?!” screeched Lina.

               And so it had happened. The very thing that Lina had vowed to herself she would not let happen, had in fact happened: She had lost her composure completely.

               “Remember: If you eat, you’re ours,” Mim reminded her. “Give in and eat our food, and you belong to Fatropolis. That was the wager.”

               Please! I can’t take this anymore! I need to eat something!” Lina pleaded.

               “I don’t think you’re serious about this,” said Mim.

               Lina felt immense anger and her immense rapacity surging inside her. She was sure she was going mad with hunger. She was breaking.

               “You bitch!” Lina bellowed. “You absolute bitch!” She was infuriated by Mim's indifference, her resolute maliciousness, her arrogant smile. And Mim, for her part, continued to look on coolly, though it seemed she was doing her best to hide a smirk.

               “That's not very nice, Lina,” Mim replied imperturbably. “And just for that, we'll tack on an extra 100 kayjees to your mandatory minimum weight.”

               “No!” sobbed Lina. “No! Please! It isn’t fair! I'm sorry! Don't do this! It's not fair!”

               “It doesn’t have to be this difficult, Lina. It’s never had to be this difficult. You know what you want. Stop putting up such a fuss.”

               Lina was nearly hyperventilating. Her eyes were closed tight. “Please. I’m so hungry,” Lina said in a low, quiet, desperate voice. “Just make these hunger pangs go away. Please. I’m begging you.”

               “Are you sure?” asked Mim.

               Please!” shouted Lina. “I’m sure! I’m sure! I need something to eat!”

               “Be aware that you have asked for this of your own volition.”

               At last Mim popped a spoonful of the pudding into Lina’s mouth. And quickly again another. And another.

               She relinquished the dessert glass and the spoon to Lina and let her feed herself. Already Lina was simultaneously shoveling the dessert into her mouth and sobbing a deep sob of relief intermingled with defeat. 

               Lina looked down at the empty dessert glass ruefully, realizing what it meant for her.

               Mim was beaming. “I told you that you’d take the first bite,” she gloated, kissing Lina on the forehead. 

               Mim was already linked to the kitchen again. “Bring our skinny young lady a sweet feast she’ll never forget. Chilled butterbell pods; triple-whipped butterbell mousse;  butterbell shakes and butterbell cakes iced with butterbell frosting. Don’t skimp. If it’s butterbell she wants, then let’s pump our pretty little guest full of it. She’s worked up quite an appetite.”

               “No! I can’t!” protested Lina. “I only wanted a taste! Don’t do this to me!”

               Mim paid her no mind, but simply patted Lina’s belly as they waited for the robotic dessert cart to arrive.

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19 hours ago, WaxerRed said:

The joy of seeing a new chapter, the despair of reaching the end and knowing how long it will be until the next comes. :( 

Though of course take your time, this story is still among the best!

Thanks, I appreciate the compliments! I wish I could promise that the next installment will be posted in a few days. Unfortunately, as you've discovered, my writing pace tends to be glacial. But if it's any consolation, a good chunk of the next installment is already written....

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  • 2 years later...

Part 22  

             “Dry your tears, Ms. Lazuli,” said Mim firmly. “They’ll do you no good. We’ve got important work to do. For me, it’s the business of feeding, and for you it’s the business of eating.”

                Lina continued to sob and sniffle…until she became distracted by a curious sensation: an impression of soothing warmth that seemed to originate in her belly and radiate like a pinwheel outward to the tips of her fingers and toes.

                Mim noticed Lina’s abrupt silence and smiled. “You’ve finally got some nourishment in you. It feels wonderful, doesn’t it?” Lina, who certainly would not admit to it aloud, wiped away a tear with her finger.

                Mim made a disapproving clucking sound. “You haven’t even taken a moment to consider what you’ve just eaten. How ungrateful of you.”

               Lina felt somehow abashed. It was true; her long-buried craving of a lifetime had just been fulfilled and she had not yet taken the time to reflect on this stroke of fortune. So Lina chose now to fully bask in the afterglow of the Gliesian butterbell pudding that she had just scarfed down. It had been so luxuriant, so enticing, so intoxicatingly delicious, that in a moment her fears of the impending gorging were forgotten. This was the first peace she had known since she had been in Fatropolis.

                And though Lina knew that Mim was priming her for fattening, the effects of the butterbell would not be instantaneous. She would be a skinny for a while longer, at least, and just for this minute, she was content to enjoy the warm feeling of satiation, this sweet relief from that awful gnawing void in her belly.

                Lina realized she had been rendered bereft of all resistance. Whereas not even half-an-hour before, she had despised Mim with all the antipathy she could muster, Lina’s opinion of her captor suddenly seemed to have softened. For the first time, she could almost see Mim in a favorable light. Who was it but Mim who had given her her secret heart’s desire…Gliesian butterbell? And who else but Mim had helped Lina remember Gliesian butterbell at all? And who but a benefactor would have gifted her with something so perfect, so beautiful?

                Still, in some distant recess of her mind, there was a flicker of suspicion that all of this was just more trickery. She knew Mim’s ulterior motive—to alter her irrevocably, just as Mim had been doing to Daesti—but Lina did not feel quite the same urgency to escape as she had before. Would it be the worst punishment in the galaxy to be forced to laze about and be stuffed full of sumptuous desserts? If that was to be her sentence, it might even be worth it for the prospect of more Gliesian butterbell. And Lina was so tired of this constant fighting against everything.

               And after all, Daesti seemed to have stoically accepted her fate, last Lina saw her. Poor Daesti…Lina supposed she must be shamefully overweight by now. Lina tried to imagine a heavier version of herself and simply could not envisage it.

                But just maybe, Lina thought, she deserved to share Daesti’s fate. Maybe if she herself hadn’t angered Mim, she and Daesti might have bargained their way out of Fatropolis, and the two would be enjoying themselves somewhere on Kepler-226 now, their sultry figures intact. But regrets were useless to her now, and in any case it was too late.

                She chose instead to focus to enjoy this feeling of detached calmness that had washed over her.

                Mim, meanwhile, was busily making preparations.

                “How about some dessert music?” said Mim, making a gesture in the air, as if she were preparing to conduct some unseen orchestra. Immediately, that ethereal and mesmerizing drone that she had heard many times before, was piped into the room.

                Mim maneuvered a robotic stool beside Lina and began speaking very softly, in a slow, measured cadence. Lina, in her hazy twilight state, felt as though she were floating on a raft in some vast tranquil pool.

                “Lina,” began Mim. “I want you to stay completely relaxed. Now, I’m going to ask you a few simple questions. Can you do that for me?”

                “Yes,” replied Lina.

                “Good girl,” said Mim. “Now, Lina, do you know why you are here? In this city…in this building…in this room?”

                “So you can make me fat,” said Lina in a perfectly matter-of-fact manner, as if she were uttering the most mundane of statements.

                “That’s right,” said Mim, enunciating every syllable crisply. “I’m going to make you very, very fat. But are you fat right now, Lina?”

                “No,” replied Lina, seemingly with a twinge of remorse and distaste. “I’m a skinny.”

                “Yes,” said Mim. “You are a skinny. You are an extraordinarily-skinny skinny. But I’m going to change all that. But what must you do to help me change you, Lina? What is your role in all this?

                “I must attain my highest weight,” said Lina. There were those words again. Even in her somniferous state, it struck Lina as an odd thing to declare. Nevertheless, she spoke the words impassively, as if the statement were a foregone conclusion.

                “That’s a good girl,” said Mim. “Now, we must begin the de-thinnification process. That’s where we’ll train you to reject skinniness with your whole core—in short, to make your body and mind receptive to fatness. We have to teach you to think like a fat girl, to feel like a fat girl, to have the appetite and cravings of a fat girl. Once you have been properly de-thinnified, your body will hold on to extra weight easily. And then the plumpification process can be put into full effect.”

                Lina nodded slowly, not entirely sure what any of this would entail. But she was keenly aware of her eagerness to enjoy more Gliesian butterbell. And more was on the way…and all for her! Her heart bounded with anticipation.

                “And now,” Mim declared proudly, “at last you are ready for your first proper glutting…with many more to follow.” She fastened a large bib around Lina’s neck, and Lina could feel her face redden at this petty indignity, just the latest in a long succession of such petty indignities.

                 There came the steady whir of servo motors as, one by one, small serving bots began to arrive from the kitchen, bearing trays heaped with the Gliesian butterbell confections that Mim had ordered. The recliner adjusted automatically and a tabletop surface fanned out around Lina, and Mim, with surprising deftness, began to set the items on the table before her.

                “Well,” said Mim, “there’s no time to waste, Lina. We’ve got to get you feasting while you’re still tractable.”

                Lina could hardly contain her anticipation, though she was careful not to betray her enthusiasm. She still retained enough dignity not to hand Mim a victory.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Part 23

 

               Mim gestured, and the overhead lights dimmed and the recliner was bathed in a soft ambient pink glow. The room was redolent with dessert aromas and the tantalizing smells of everything butterbell—the sweet heady scent of ripe fruit commingled with fragrant wildflower.  

               “I’m going to feed you to capacity, but you will savor every bite,” Mim declared. “This can be an extraordinarily pleasurable experience for you, if you let it.” She rubbed her hands together delightedly. “Now, what shall we start with? Why not something light, to ease you into it!”

               She surveyed the tabletop and the trays still sitting atop the serving bots. “For you, I think…the triple-whipped butterbell mousse will do nicely.”

               Not wanting to betray her anticipation, Lina sat completely still and said nothing.

               Mim hoisted the mousse, which was in an oversized dessert cup with an enormous dollop of whipped cream on top. Then she summoned her robotic seat, moved forward into a deep curved recess in the tabletop, and settled in across from Lina. She produced a long-handled ergonomic feeding spoon, the head of which was fabricated of an extraordinarily soft silicone-like polymer, designed to be gentle to the mouth and to deliver a generous but manageable portion. 

               “Open,” said Mim, brandishing the spoon commandingly. Lina obeyed.

               With the dessert cup in one hand and the spoon in the other, Mim delivered the first spoonful to Lina’s waiting mouth.

               The mousse was perfectly chilled, with a texture as fluffy as a cloud, and bursting with flavor. Lina did her best maintain a flat affect as she ate. Inside she was rapturous—but she would not give Mim the satisfaction of knowing it.

               Mim employed the spoon efficiently, delivering one spoonful after another at a steady rate until the mousse was gone. 

               “You certainly gobbled that right up,” she said, grinning as she dabbed Lina’s lips with a napkin. “But let’s move right along to keep those calories flowing.”

               Lina should have wanted to shove Mim aside, bolt from the recliner, and run…anyplace. Now, stripped of her willpower, and still too physically exhausted to resist or flee, Lina felt as though she could not stop eating even if she wanted to. But she immediately reminded herself of her near-starvation—and that was not a condition to which she wished to return.

               Next there was a parfait of topaz-colored sliced butterbell and shortcake and full-fat whipped cream in alternating layers, nine layers deep, with plump Gliesian cloudberries on top—which Lina dispatched with equal alacrity. 

               Mim goaded her on. “Keep going, darlin’, you’re doing just fine!” She looked around tentatively as she decided on the next dessert for Lina to devour.

               “Butterbell cobbler!” said Mim. “Better get it while it’s still nice and warm. And you’ll need a big scoop of Vesta vanilla ice cream on top.”

               The crust was thick and cake-like, the butterbell tender and juicy, and the Vesta vanilla ice cream was the perfect counterpoint. Lina was exhilarated. 

               “Here, honey,” said Mim, pouring Lina a glass of aromatic liquor. “Wash it down with some sparkling butterbell melomel! It pairs wonderfully with everything on the menu.” This Lina drank herself, without assistance from Mim.

               Next Mim presented a braided pastry filled with butterbell compote, and garnished with a sprig of mint. She fed this to Lina by hand.

               “I’m doing all the talking today,” said Mim. “You’re being so awfully quiet. For such a headstrong young woman, I thought you’d have so much more to say about all this.”

               “Mmph,” Lina mumbled, her cheeks stuffed full of pastry.

               Then came the fresh chilled butterbell fruits, their bright ripe pink and orange skins glistening with condensation. These Mim cut in half; she removed the seeds, and scooped out the luscious flesh, which she fed to Lina with a slightly smaller and more elegant spoon. The meat of the butterbell was succulent and cool and refreshing to Lina’s palate.

               Lina was enveloped by a glowing sense of contentment, in spite of herself, and she was keenly aware that Mim for the first time was showing a gentle and nurturing side. But Lina cautioned herself: she must not forge a bond with her. It was only more trickery—she knew that Mim was only putting up a front because she was getting her way. Should Lina fail to acquiesce to any part of Mim’s plan, Mim would rebuke her—there was no doubt of that. 

               In succession came butterbell turnovers and a butterbell trifle and butterbell cream cheese cookies with butterbell and lunar lemon glaze. And Lina wolfed her way through them all. Mim was smiling slyly as she stuffed the skinny with sumptuous desserts.

               But Lina’s chewing began to slow with each bite and eventually ceased altogether. Lina heaved a sigh.

               “Something wrong?” asked Mim.

               “I couldn’t possibly eat another bite,” huffed Lina, leaning back in the recliner.

               Mim palpated Lina’s belly and consulted a read-out to measure its tautness. She gave it a gentle pat. “You still have a little more room in there,” she said. “But I have something to help relieve the sense of pressure.” She produced a vial of faintly turquoise-colored liquid. 

               “Bottoms up!” said Mim, uncapping the vial. “Just a little something to reignite your appetite.” 

               She tilted Lina’s chin upward with little resistance. Just a day ago, Lina would have slapped the vial out of Mim’s hand, but now she quaffed its contents in a single gulp.

               “Shall we take a quick breather?” said Mim. “Let the appetite renewer do its work. You may want to have a quick stretch to keep your belly pliable.”

               The recliner adjusted and Lina was able to stretch her arms and legs and to bend a few times side to side, forward and back. This would have been her chance to bolt, had she the inclination, but she was much too full to run…and in any case had nowhere to go.

               In just minutes, as the liquid went to work, Lina began to feel all residual tension melt away. Soon, she felt a craving swell up anew inside her, and before long, she was ravenous again.

               Lina’s appetite restored, Mim immediately resumed the feeding. She presented Lina with butterbell dessert bars, and butterbell jubilee, and butterbell torte, which were vanquished in due course.

               “Oh, and now here’s something for you!” said Mim excitedly. “A slice of Old-Fashioned Butterbell Pie! It’s an old family recipe. You’re going to love this!” Lina found the crust flaky and tender and the butterbell perfectly spiced. 

               “Here, try this beautiful butterbell shake, sweetie.” She handed a great tall glass over to Lina.  “You don’t even want to know how many calories are in this.” And Mim was right: Lina didn’t want to know. Nonetheless, Lina sucked eagerly at the straw.

               Then came a beautifully presented triple-layered butterbell cake with butterbell frosting. It did not seem quite full-sized—however large such a thing might be—but certainly it was much larger than any single serving Lina ever would have allowed herself. 

               “This is almost too pretty to eat,” said Mim, considering the perfectly designed cake for a moment. Then she shrugged. Almost.” And with that, she cut a piece, and into Lina’s mouth it went. Lina made little chuffing sounds after each bite.

               “Oh, and some butterbell tarts, you’d like some of those, wouldn’t you, dear?” said Mim. She didn’t give Lina time to answer, and popped a tart in Lina’s mouth, quickly followed by another.

               Mim was growing ever more animated, obviously pleased with Lina’s compliance, as she persisted in plying the young woman with treats. 

               Lina wanted to moan—in pleasure, but also with some discomfort, as she was already feeling overfull—but she dared not. She did not want to show her hand.

               Next came a large slice of butterbell cheesecake, drizzled with butterbell syrup. It was smooth and creamy, with a perfect graham cracker crust, but Lina found it impossibly rich. She barely managed to finish the slice. At last, she hiccupped and cried out, “No more! Too much! I’ll pop!”

               “Shhh.” Mim hushed her soothingly. “No one’s popping on my watch. It’s alright; you may stop eating now. I think you’d better get some rest. You have another big day tomorrow.”

               Mim summoned the serving bots to clear the empty plates and cups and bowls and glasses and trays. Lina lay still in the recliner, clutching her distended belly and trying to stay as motionless as possible.

               “Well!” said Mim. “You’re already eating like a fat girl! Keep that up, mon cochon, and you will be one soon enough, don’t you worry!” 

               Lina’s mouth was encircled with the remnants of the last desserts she had eaten. The bib was splattered as well.  “Tsk, tsk. Look at you. How careless,” teased Mim. “You’ve made such a mess.” Lina could only manage a shrug as Mim wiped her mouth with a napkin before removing the bib.

               The tabletop retracted and the recliner adjusted itself. The cushions puffed up and Lina settled in.

               “You’ve had a very busy day, my dear,” said Mim. “And you should feel quite pleased with yourself.” Lina was in too much of a sugar stupor to feel much of anything. In her hazy overstuffed state, she was only aware of being glutted and bloated and perhaps a bit giddy.

               But even in the wake of that lavish dessert feast, Lina still did not want to be a fat girl. Mim could stuff her full of all the food her stomach could hold, blow her up as big as she wanted, but Lina silently resolved then and there that she would always be a skinny at heart.

               Mim sat beside the recliner, laid a hand atop Lina’s belly, gave it a few tentative pokes as though testing it, and began to rub in concentric circles. “Soon all of this will turn to fat,” said Mim. “And it will lay the perfect foundation for all the blubber that’s to follow.” Lina knew she should have been horrified at the thought, but she was too tired to protest and an artful belly massage was exactly what she needed at that moment. Her horror would have to wait for another day.

               “Relax and sleep, my soon-to-be-former skinny,” Mim said. Lina soon drifted off and fell into strange dreams. 

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