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 Maisy Pinkerton was rueing how tough her day would be. It was seven o’clock in the morning, and she took advantage of the lull in custom at the beef hot dog stand to talk to Bethany, who was manning the grill behind her. They wouldn’t get a chance later on. It was the day of the big race, and the place would be packed to the rafters.

“See? Look at that. Look at that fat.”

 Maisy cursed the little roll of pudge that had appeared from her reliance on the meaty stock as her lunch, and sometimes her dinner, as she compared bellies with her best friend.  

“I don’t want to show up for spring break with a rubber ring.” she lamented.

“You won’t,” Bethany assured her, laughing as she let her shirt drift down. “It’s a month away – you’d have to eat so many hot dogs.”

“Doubt it – I think my metabolism’s packing up on me. I can’t shift any of this.”

Maisy fingered her friendship bracelet and jumped. Her belly button quivered a little. She grit her teeth.

“Don’t panic,” Bethany said. “Panic makes you stress. Stress makes you fat.”

“And fat makes me panic…ughh…” Maisy pulled down her shirt. “Face it, you’re gonna have to roll me to Panama City.”

“Hey, I’m still heavier than you, don’t forget.”

“Yeah, but you’re three inches taller.”

 Maisy was fairly tall herself for a girl, at five foot eight, belied by the rush of wavy blonde hair that flowed half way down her back. But at five foot eleven, Beth towered a head over most of the rest of the girls in their cheer squad at college.

“Stop worrying. You’re still going to be the flyer when we get back to practice,” said Beth. She wrapped Maisy in a hug and lifted her off her feet. “See. You’re not heavy. You’re a hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet.”

“A hundred and thirty-five.” Maisy said lowly as she was squeezed. Those five pounds had crept on to her from three weeks ago. She was fearful of what the future would bring.

She did not soon expect to be fearing for her life.

“Oooh. Customer!” said Bethany. “Look alive.”

 Maisy turned with a prizewinning smile to the stocky man on the other side of the counter. She immediately recognised him as one of the drivers.

“Two please, m’lady.” he garbled through his helmet. He slapped down a twenty dollar note. Beth went to work at the grill behind her.

“Lotta sauce,” he called. “I like ‘em sloppy.”

 He turned his back, stuck a finger through his visor, scratched his greasy nose, then pushed something up against his ear.

“Y’ello? Can’t hear ya, buddy. Speak up.”

Maisy ducked beneath the counter for some napkins.

“Are you alone?” she heard a voice say.

 Above her, the driver looked over his shoulder.

“Uh-huh. Oh, howdy Marco…yeah, yeah, we’ve got it covered. Framed, fixed, rigged, ready to go.”

Excellent. The room’s clear. The rest is up to you.

“Yee-haw, whatever. When do I get my money?”

There was a buzz of static, then a pause on the line.

“When you win, Mick.” the Italian-flecked voice said quietly. When you win.”

 Maisy paused as her hand found the napkins. She stood up slowly and received the hotdogs from Beth. Mick looked in the eye as he held a hand out for his snack, before she’d even put the sauce on.

“Thanks darlin’.’” he mumbled.

“You’re welcome.” she said, quietly.

 He broke his stare first as he turned to walk away. Maisy stared at his purple and green striped racing suit as he strode across the food court, his paces wide and fast.

“Could you mind the counter a minute?” Maisy asked Beth. “I’m gonna go check something out.”

“What?”

“That guy.”

“Slick Mick Ovett?  Seriously? You’ve just turned twenty. He’s like, forty. And greasy and….eeeww.”

“Not like that…” she muttered. “I think he’s up to something. Wait here.”

 Maisy pushed her hands down on the counter and vaulted over in a flash, landing with barely a tap on her tiptoes. She tailed Mick quietly, out of the food court and around to the garages. He crammed his first hot dog in through the gap in his helmet, then dropped the napkin on the floor.

 He looked over his shoulder. Maisy froze in her step, then in a move from something she’d seen on TV, she bent down and pretended to retie her shoelace. Mick paid no notice to her. He carried on walking to the garages, approaching the open bonnet of a stock car. Maisy hid behind the corner of a wall. He said something to the voice inside his helmet.

 Maisy presumed the red and white car with the number 50 was his as he leaned in and tinkered around the engine. Then he reached deep inside, rattled his gloved hand, and ripped out a wire. Maisy heard herself gulp. Something was definitely wrong.

 Mick looked over his shoulder again, then carried on walking. Maisy fished her phone out of her pocket, unlocked it, and opened the camera. She pointed it at him as he carried on walking. He approached another car – the number 10 – and brushed past it, nipping a back tire with his boot. Maisy heard a hiss as it deflated, capturing the whole moment on video. She guessed there was a metal edge along his shoes. Mick finished off the last of his second hotdog, then threw the waste in a trash can, along with the oily wire.

 When he was a safe distance away, Maisy pelted over to the trash can and held her phone over the bag. Mick strode over to the number 12. Maisy whipped her phone back around. There was someone working on the car, tinkering on a slider under the chassis.

 She half expected Mick to throw a cold-clocker when she watched him put a boot on the wooden board and pull the mechanic back, but instead they bumped fists. Mick stroked a greasy hand over the roof as they chatted to each other. It looked like that car was his.

 Maisy committed the number to memory. The oily driver laughed as he held out a hand and helped his crewmate to their feet. She was a full-figured woman. Her brown hair was tied in a messy bun, with the flyaways held back by her thick-rimmed glasses.

 Maisy watched her flip a wrench in the air and catch it, then plant a foot on the slider and skate to another stock car. Deftly for a girl of her size, she crouched down, put her back on the board and slid perfectly through the gap between the tires with a wide smile. There was a clang as the wrench made contact with something underneath the chassis. Slick Mick guffawed.

 Maisy closed her phone. She had all the evidence she needed to prove that Mick and his team were manipulating the Daytona 500. She bit her lip as she saw her phone’s charge was just 2%. She knew if it ran out before she could let the cops see it, she’d have to go home to charge it up. She wouldn’t have enough time to get them to stop Mick racing.

 On instinct she stepped out from behind the trash can. Maisy didn’t know much about cars, but she knew they were easily broken. She tiptoed on her skinny feet to the number 12 and dipped her hands inside the open bonnet, feeling around for the wire Mick ripped from the 50. She reckoned it’d buy her time, and give him a taste of his own medicine.

 Maisy found a wire, wrapped her fingers around it and pulled. It came out with surprising ease. But in her haste, her friendship bracelet rattled along the engine coolant reservoir.  

“What in tarnation?”  

 Slick Mick wrenched off his helmet and stared at her. Maisy looked back, the wire curling in her hand. Her face was a mask.

 Mick dropped his helmet, reached into his pocket and with an infuriated sneer, he drew a pistol from inside his racing leathers. Maisy screamed.

 The dirty driver fired straight from the hip. The bullet flew over Maisy’s shoulder, ricocheted off the bonnet and sunk into the engine. Mick swore viciously and fired again. Maisy ducked as the second bullet bounced off the windscreen. She ran, her loose blonde hair flapping out behind her. A third bullet zipped past her feet.

 The pit crewmate scrabbled to get out from under the other car. Mick snarled and took off running while she screamed for him to stop. He still had four bullets left. He fired again as Maisy escaped the garages, and missed by inches.

 Maisy sprinted out into the open air, running for the stands of the Daytona International Speedway. It was hours before the 500 would start, so the waves of seats were empty. She didn’t know where to go. She didn’t know what to do. She kept running. She crossed the track, slid through the metal wires of the catch nets, leapt a barrier on the stands and charged up the steps to the thirtieth row. She jumped over another barrier and pumped her sinewy legs past Row 36. She turned to see if he was following her.

 Suddenly, Maisy lost her footing. Her ankle twisted awkwardly half-way up a step, and she tumbled backwards. Her head reeled as it collided with the concrete, and she screamed in agony as she fell head over heels, her twisted ankle thumping on a step edge once, then twice. She landed on top of it as she came to a halt at the bottom of the section, moaning in pain.

 A medic heard her cries and dashed out from her station in the stands to collect her. Maisy was crying. The medic administered a painkiller then radioed in for more help. Her ankle was fixed in place with splints, and two guys helped bear her into a stretcher. Maisy was taken to an ambulance waiting in the car park outside. She tried to look up from her reclined position just as she left the stands. Slick Mick was nowhere to be seen.

 Maisy was driven to the Florida Hospital Memorial Medical Center. She recovered from the shock, but the doctors informed her breaks in her ankle would take far longer to fix, since they were in two places. She was given a local anaesthetic and the broken bone fragments were realigned. Her leg was immobilised for the rest of the night, through to the following morning. It ached a lot after she woke up.

 News of her tumble got around fast. Bethany was her first visitor – she brought a giant bag of M&Ms, and they shared them as she filled her in on what had happened. Mick Ovett did not race – he had been found and arrested for reckless endangerment with a firearm. Maisy wanted him in the dock for attempted murder too, and game-fixing, and damage to property, but Beth said there’d be no need – the local police chief had assured her that from that and his past offences, he’d likely be jailed for a very long time.

 The chief himself was the next of her visitors. He took off his hat, revealing a balding head and introduced himself as Kevin Kint. He made to light a cigar, until one of the nurses reminded him that he was in a hospital. He smiled and put it away.

“Might I request we be left alone together?” he asked them both. “Maisy and I have important matters to discuss.”

They murmured their acquiescence and left the room. Kint immediately rekindled his cigar.

“Maisy Pinkerton,” he said, shaking her hand through a gentle puff of smoke. “It’s a pleasure. I understand you’ve been through a great deal very recently. There may be things that you might not wish to discuss. But it’s vital at this stage that you let the police know everything that you remember about what happened that day.”

“The first thing we need to know is, were there any other witnesses to the event?”

Maisy thought back.

“There was nobody with me,” she said. Her concussion had hazed her up memory. “Not after I started following him. There was a woman who saw it, a mechanic in his pit crew.” She gave him a physical description, noting the hair, glasses, the shape of her body. Kint took it all in, and nodded.

“Did you acquire any evidence from the scene of the incident?”

“I had a video on my phone…ughh…I wish I could show it to you. I smashed it when I fell down those stairs.”

“I see.” said Kint. “That’s unfortunate. Was there anything else?”

“There was this wire he ripped out of somebody’s car. It had these two plasticky parts on the ends.”

“A spark plug wire,” Kint nodded. “What happened to it?”

“He threw it in a trash can by the garages – I don’t think it’ll be there now. Someone will have taken out all the trash after the race yesterday.”

“Yes. A pity. So that’s all there was?”

“That’s all I can think of. There’s just what I saw…and what I heard. Mick was getting messages from a guy through the radio in his helmet. I think he was telling him what to do. Who to sabotage.”

Kint pursed his lips. He took a long puff on his cigar. Then he took a seat, and sighed.

“That’s the main thing I’ve come to talk to you about, Maisy. We’ve reason to believe that Mick Ovett was in contact with a criminal organisation. A crime family, known as the Trafficones, led by a man known as the Commissioner. They have rogue business interests all over Florida, and plenty around Daytona. Because of what’s happened, and because of your involvement…we think you’re now in terrible danger.”

Maisy’s face paled.

“What are they going to do to me?” she asked.

“That’s dependent on whether they find you,” Kint answered. “And I promise, they won’t find you if you enter our witness protection service. It would mean changing your name, changing your address and moving into a safe house, but the benefit’s right there. You’ll be kept safe, Maisy, for as long as it takes until the danger goes away. Then we’ll take you straight home.”

He reached down, pulled up a briefcase and opened it up.

“We’ve already done a lot of work to establish your new identity. Your name will be Hannah Selles. You’ll live in Eldora – it’s a little town not far from here. There is a lady there who hosts lodgers, and who’ll be happy to have you around as long as you’re happy there. You’ll be able to keep up with your classes at UCF. But you won’t be able to come back here until we’re resolutely sure that the threat to your life is gone. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Maisy said.

“And whatever happens, whatever you say or do, you must not talk about what happened to you before the race. You never know who might be listening. Got that?”

“Got it.” said Maisy.

“Excellent,” said Kint. “I’ll be back to collect you when your ankle’s healed up. If you need me, or you think you’re in trouble, call 911. We’ll do whatever it takes.”

 

 The police installed a guard outside Maisy’s room to monitor her visitors. He wore thick black glasses, and he never spoke to her. The only time she saw anything other than the back of his head from the window was the morning of the next day, when he brought over a box of a dozen Bubbunut donuts ‘courtesy of the force’, as the note read on the box. She had those to eat along with her hospital meals, plus sweets from Beth, homemade cake slices from her mom, and a colossal ‘Get Well Soon’ cake moulded in the shape of the tri-oval from NASCAR, with her name and a kind message written in icing on the centre.

Maisy was certainly well-fed throughout her week-long stay – an ankle break usually meant one or two days in hospital, but the extent of the damage warranted an extra five on top. The lack of physical activity left her tetchy at first, but food was an ample way to stave off her boredom. And there was certainly plenty of food around.

It was of little surprise to Beth to see her friend a little larger on her last day. She gave Maisy’s jelly belly a teasing poke. Her finger sunk almost to an inch.

“Well, you might not be able to make it to Panama, but I’m glad to see you’re enjoying yourself.” she said, smirking.

“Errr…you did this to me,” said Maisy. She breathed in, briefly finding the flat tummy of her former self, then breathed out, letting her puffy belly roll back.

“Can’t you blame yourself?” Beth protested. “You’re the one who sat there and ate it all.”

“Heh. I didn’t have much of a choice.” Maisy said, smiling, giving her tummy a pat. “Your fault, leaving me alone with chocolate…I think I heard the nurses say I’ve nearly put on a stone.”

“Hey, look on the plus side,” Beth said. “Your boobs are bigger.”

Maisy nudged her chin down, looked at her and smirked.

“Really? You think?”

“Yeah…I think it suits you, having more to play with. Don’t tell me you haven’t had a feel already?”  

“Err…no. Not with four-eyes outside the door.” Maisy said, shivering. “He gives me the creeps.”

“Really? You mean Jojo? He gives me bubblegum.”

“Jojo?” Maisy inquired. 

“It’s Giovanni, or something. He’s cool. You should take your top off and show him, it’ll really brighten up his day.”

Before Maisy could grace that comment with a reply, a nurse informed Beth her time was up and escorted her away.     

 

 Chief Kint returned that afternoon, and Maisy said goodbye to her parents from the bed. They wrapped her in a soft hug together, and told her to be strong like always. Her mom promised she’d keep her supported, since Maisy couldn’t go back to her job, while her dad pledged to keep her pet Bichon Frise company while she was away. Bethany’s goodbye after she walked out of the hospital on crutches left her nearly in tears, but she was sure they’d see each other again soon after spring break. She’d been told UCF had another location in Eldora – she’d be out of the scope of regular campus life, but they’d be able to keep in touch.

 Maisy’s parents helped pack her stuff into the boot and back seats of Kint’s cop car, and in the early hours of the morning he drove her from the hospital to her new home. Eldora was a pretty place – palm trees lined clean and tidy streets, and the houses were all pearly white. The house Maisy had been offered to stay in was bigger than her old home, with a wide porch and a grove of orange trees in the back yard. A plump old lady with a big grey perm answered the door when Kint knocked, and immediately invited the three of them in for milk and fresh-baked cookies, straight from the oven. Her name, as Kint told Maisy, was Anne Gretel.

“Hannah, pumpkin, it’s so lovely to have you here!” she beamed, embracing her in a hug.  Maisy was confused for a moment, until she remembered she had a new name now, as well as a new home.

“Call me Annie. Grannie Annie, if you like, your Grandma number three. I’ve got a room upstairs right and ready just for you. Let me show you around!”

 Maisy took a tour of the house, hobbling around on her crutches. Her room was the most spacious in the house; the bed was a double, warm soft and inviting. The living room featured a huge plasma television, which made a strange contrast with the dated but plush-looking furniture. The kitchen was wide and sparkly. Annie opened the cupboards. They were stocked to the top with goodies – potato chips, chocolate bars, cakes and biscuits, box after box of Twinkies…

“I wondered what your favourites were and I just couldn’t decide,” Annie told her. “I thought I’d go the whole hog and have fun figurin’ out!”

Maisy smiled. She decided she’d like it here. 

 

 The following morning Maisy got herself acclimatised with the rest of the town. Eldora had a bus service, and the lone driver was a kindly fellow who offered to pick her up from the sidewalk even before she’d hobbled anywhere near the stop. He’d find her whenever she was walking by and give her the ride to the plaza never for any more than fifty cents. Maisy noted that everything was really cheap in Eldora. Especially the food.

 Maisy put her crutches to one side, and then scrolled through her phone as she waited for her pizza at one of the local pizzerias. She looked out for messages from Bethany, but couldn’t find any. She was a little sad that she’d have to miss out on spring break, but with crutches, a foot in a cast and nascent new love handles, she reasoned that perhaps it was for the best. Bethany assured her that the next year would always be better. Maisy made pains to avoid calling her during the week she was in PCB – not out of any ill will, but because she knew hearing the inevitable tales about the wild partying from a bed in a sleepy little town miles and miles away would only make her feel worse.

 She kept off Facebook too, to avoid the inevitable flood of photos of towels and sand, cool cocktails and bronzed bodies lying in the sun. She visited just once, biting her lip as she saw a blissful crowd of tanned, toned bellies, and miserably compared them with her own – thicker, paler, rounder, doughier. She gave her flesh a soft, sad pat.

 She logged out, and had a thought to create an all new Facebook account, under her new name. It’d help her keep in touch with the friends she’d make in Eldora. She entered her details, then flipped her phone to take a profile picture of her on the couch. It took twenty tries before she settled on one she was relatively happy with. She rued the chubbiness of her cheeks, the little pocket of flesh that formed under her chin as she looked at the camera, smiling. Annie’s irresistible southern cooking – her fried chicken, her pork loin steaks, her wicked weekly barbecues – was taking its toll. Maisy Pinkerton had been skinny, slender and fit. Hannah Selles, it seemed, was blooming into a chubby young woman.

 For however much longer, Maisy was irksomely unsure. In a town with a pizzeria, a burger bar and an ice cream parlour – but no gym – Maisy could only sit, eat and sigh. She knew her body was softening in her slow recovery. Arms that were tense with twine like muscles now wobbled a little when she tried to make her biceps bulge. Legs that once carried a lithe figure now carried weight – fat weight – above them and around them. Maisy was pining for a return to jogging on the beach, to shift the rubbing sensation she was feeling between her thighs when she hobbled from her comfy bed in the mornings.

 But that required an all-clear from the doctor on her ankle. To measure her progress healing, she had an appointment with him every two weeks. But much to her dissatisfaction, the only progress she seemed to be making was found on the reader above the little white square on the floor.

“One hundred and sixty-nine pounds,” the doctor said, writing the number in his notes. Three other numbers were in the margins of a file page that bore her name, each a little higher than the last. “That’s a gain of eight pounds since your last visit.”

Maisy grimaced. She fingered the roll of flesh that hung over her underpants, bought a size larger than what she normally wore. She thought most of the weight had gone to her belly, but then looked down at her legs. Fat was beginning to cocoon around her knees.

“Err…how soon can I go running again?” she asked, flinching a little.

“Judging by your most recent bone scans, not for another month,” the doctor said. “And that’s dependent on you allowing yourself time to rest, Hannah. I can see you’ve been putting excessive stress on fractures that haven’t fully healed yet. You need to stop exercising on your leg.”

“But I have stopped exercising,” Maisy said. “It’s my…it’s my weight gain doing this. I’m getting heavier and heavier because I’m moving less, because of my ankle. But it’s hurting my ankle anyway.”

“Then you need to stop moving it completely,” said the doctor. “You need to give it some proper rest. No exercising. No long walks. Prop it up in bed, and maybe it’ll have chance to recover from the stress.”

 Maisy wondered if she’d recover from her stress, of spending the next day cooped up on the couch, feeling her fitness further go to waste. The only distractions from her pointless self-criticism were television and food. She asked Annie for ice cream; her theory was that dairy would help her recovery, as milk was good for the bones. The little old lady put on her apron, and a while later wowed her with a huge triple milk chocolate sundae, smothered in whipped cream. The day after that, Maisy asked for another, and she soon fell into the routine of having one after every dinner, She’d have a chocolate milkshake when she relaxed on the porch through the warmth of noon, a hot chocolate and cream before bed, cookies and milk after breakfast in the morning.

 However fast her bones were getting stronger from all the extra milk she couldn’t really tell, for the other effects of her excessive dairy consumption were becoming increasingly apparent. Maisy’s shinier smile was becoming ever more laced with concern as she lathered her body in the shower every morning. She realised there was more of herself to soap up and scrub, more flesh to rub and dry, then slide into her clothes. Her jeans were feeling pinchy, so she forewent them on the morning of her thirtieth day of rest in favour of her underwear and an oversized tee. Annie was out, so she made herself a hearty breakfast on the grill, then slaked her thirst with two big glasses of milk. Maisy retrieved a big pack of mini chocolatey brownies from the top of the cupboard and opened them on the couch. Two by two, she popped them in her mouth. 

 The Florida sun was shining through the windows, and her treats were beginning to melt in her hands. Undaunted, Maisy simply sped up her consumption as her eyes remained fixed to the TV. She scowled as the chocolate smeared over her cheeks as she ate – a little dropped on to her shirt, a little more on her thighs. She stuck out her tongue to lick it off her nose, then Annie arrived back and bustled into the living room. Her eyes shone when she saw Maisy.

“Gosh, darling, I didn’t recognise you a moment there. My, my, haven’t you blossomed?”

Maisy’s thicker cheeks flushed red as she smiled.

Is it that noticeable already? she wondered.

“Err…hello to you too, Annie.”

“My, my, those college boys ain’t gonna know what hit ‘em. C’mere, let me get a look at you.”

Maisy’s awkward smile stayed plastered to her face, like the chocolate, which was all over her hands too. Wanting to avoid smearing it on the upholstery she tried to stand up with using the armrests. She immediately flopped back down. Maisy felt her belly jiggle, then jiggle some more as Annie hoisted her up off the couch from her elbows. 

“Oooh, my gorgeous girl’s gotten so healthy. Heck, it’s like someone rigged you up to a garden hose and turned the pressure on high. Just like the cheaters do to the pumpkins at the state fair. Do you want waffles? I brought you some waffles.”   

“I’ve err…I’ve just had cookies.” Maisy said sheepishly.

“Oh, give them a try. They’re delicious. You don’t want ‘em when they’re cold now, do you?”

Maisy reluctantly had her waffles. Caving to the sweet homely tastes she had bacon sandwiches, a milkshake, steak, another sundae and another box of cookies all before she saw the doctor again the next morning. Once more she tripped to her underclothes in his office, though this time she did so slowly. Her pinchy jeans had left marks on her sides, and her shirt was bunching her boobs uncomfortably.  

The regular scan on her ankle was performed, and the doctor returned with a readout.

“Good news,” he chimed. “You’re well on the road to recovery. You’ve no new fractures, your old ones are fixed up, and your breaks are finally unbroken.”

“Yes!” Maisy shouted with a joyful bounce. “Does that mean I can run again?”

“If you really want to, you’ll have to take it easy. It’s still early days.” the doctor said. “Don’t go too far or too fast. And don’t over-exert yourself. In your present condition, I wouldn’t recommend any more than thirty minutes of physical activity. Per week.”

Maisy frowned.

“Well…it’s something, I guess.” she said. Her hand massaged her belly softly, then she gave it a slap. It rippled, far more than what she would have allowed. Catching the doctor’s eye, she nervously pulled down the hem of her shirt.

“Miss Selles…if you’d mind me asking this question…” he said. “How have you been keeping with your weight?” 

“Umm…fine, I think,” Maisy said. “I might have put on a few more pounds. Is that bad?”

“It’s perfectly normal for patients that have suffered debilitating skeletal damage to gain weight over the course of their treatment.” he said. “But you’re a special case, and from looking at you now after last month…let’s say I feel a few pounds may be an understatement. Would you mind stepping on the scale?”

“Oh. Um…not at all.” Maisy said. She bit her lip. These were words that she was not used to hearing. She stood by the scale, then tentatively stepped on, a finger pursed over her concerned pout.

“A hundred and ninety nine pounds.” the doctor read. “Okay, Hannah, take a seat.”

 Maisy stepped off and planted her bottom on the cold steel of a chair. It spread over the smooth surface. She felt rather rotund.

“You’ve put on thirty pounds since the last time we saw each other,” the doctor explained. “Like I said, it’s perfectly normal for people in your situation to put on weight.”

Maisy nodded.

 “But this has come on quite rapidly, and unfortunately, it does look like you’ve ventured into overweight territory. You’re two stones above the upper line of what a girl your height and age should ideally be.”

“Okay” Maisy said, unblinkingly.

“There are steps you can take to help reduce your weight, but you don’t need the whole shebang. You were in great shape before your accident. I’m confident you’ll be able to get your body back to how it was. If you’d like to book another appointment in a month’s time to measure your progress, that’d be fine.”

“Sure.” mumbled Maisy. She arranged a date, thanked him without looking him in the eye and left, hastily.

With her ankle fixed, Maisy could walk normally again. But the bounce was gone from her step. She walked out the doctors red-faced, painfully aware of her softly shifting paunch, and the rolls that squished over her hips as her legs shifted.

I broke my ankle. I’ve been out of training a while. It’s normal. Just like he said. Normal.  

As she felt her breaths begin to shorten, she began to wonder just how normal suddenly being thirty pounds overweight really was. It felt completely alien to her. A little chubbiness she could tolerate – an extra cup size, a smoother curve around her hips. But this, she knew, was fatness. This was pinchy, jiggly, pot-bellied fatness.

 Maisy decided there and then that something had to be done. She couldn’t go back home to her parents, to college, to work as a fat girl. Out on the sidewalk she tied up her hair and broke into a run. Her little feet pounded the street in their sneakers, aching from lack of recent use. Her softly swinging belly began to hop and bounce over the waistband of her sweats.

I’ll do the circuit the bus does Maisy decided. I think it’s three miles. Just an easy-peasy three miles.

 Her body felt like it’d gotten to the three mile mark after just three hundred metres. It felt like years since she’d last done some running. Sweat emerged from under her arms, under her neck, and around her wobbly paunch. As she got close to Annie’s house, Maisy felt a stitch throbbing along her side. She clutched herself as she hobbled on, pressing into the fat.

Annie was out on the porch, wearing big pink baking gloves. She gave her a wave.

“Is that you darling?” she called. “You’re right on time, I’ve got poundcake in the oven!”

 Maisy groaned as her aches and pains brought her to a plod. The last thing she needed in her condition was more cake.

“Whatcha say, you comin’ in?” Annie asked her.

“Sure…Annie,” Maisy huffed. She put her hands on her knees and looked out to the road in front of her. “I’ll have some right after…right after I take a shower.”

She pushed back the loose strands of her sweaty hair and hobbled inside, feeling breathless and weak. She didn’t want to give up so easily.

But the doctor did say take it easy, after all she told herself. You’ve run a mile, almost. That’s worth a slice of cake, right?

Maisy’s belly gurgled. She did feel hungry.

“I’ve got whipped cream and chocolate sauce too. I’ll leave it in your room” Annie chimed.

“Great,” Maisy puffed. “Thanks….ughhh…”

 She passed the kitchen on the way to her room, stripped off her clothes, showered, then slumped on the bed in a dressing gown. She spooned herself cake, numbly, as she nursed out the cramp in her soft thighs. Maisy decided to finish off her three miles the day after next. She wanted just a little more rest.

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Maisy never got round to finishing the remainder of the tiresome three miles before she returned to college. UCF had a research facility just half a mile out of Eldora for students of marine biology. It wasn’t what she’d originally majored in, but Maisy had hated the organic chemistry course she’d studied for at the start of her freshman year. She was more than happy to switch.

 Her return had its ups and downs. Bottom heavy after her break, Maisy found the desks a squeeze to fit back into, but there was space for snacks under the hinged worktop. The teachers were much nicer, but she couldn’t say quite the same all of her new classmates. There was one girl in particular – Serena – who’d rubbed her up the wrong way almost as soon Maisy sat down on her table with a few other girls to eat her lunch.

“Hey.” she said, dropping down on her seat with a thud. “You’re name’s Serena, right?”

The dark haired girl looked up from her phone and raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

“Have you ever done cheerleading?”

She turned up her nose.

“Yes. I do.”

“Oh cool. Me too. I cheered for UCF back when I was on main campus. I just wondered if you knew if other there’s people here who used to. I was thinking maybe we could start our own offshoot squad, you know? ‘Cause we’re a little off the radar and all.”

Serena gave her a once over.

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“Yeah” Maisy said. “Totally.”

“You? You were a cheerleader? Where – like, ham planet or something?”

Maisy’s lips curled.

“It was just a suggestion.” she said, tersely.

“Well, I’ve got a suggestion,” said Serena. “Get off my table, right now. Your carbs are giving off an aura.”

 She scrunched her little nose looking at the four slices of pizza Maisy had stacked on her tray, beside the mini-mound of pancakes.

Maisy rolled her eyes and stood up to leave. 

“Even though I can’t believe you let yourself go like that, I can kinda see how it happened,” Serena sneered. “Seriously. Eew.”

“I broke my ankle.” Maisy protested.

“Tripping over the pizza box?”

 Serena’s clique of twiglets chuckled at the new swells of Maisy’s ass as she walked away in a huff. From that day forth, she ate her lunches outside the cafeteria, on the stone steps near the beach. She wished she could go back to the regular college. She tried her best to keep in touch with Bethany, but it was tough – Eldora was a new town, built on sand, and it lacked a stable place for a telecommunications tower. The signal on Maisy’s new cellphone was pretty lacking thus.  

 With her effort to merge with the in-crowd left spluttering on the ground, Maisy came to rely on food for company. She knew her indulgence was wrong, but with no comps or trials, and no word from Kint that it was safe to go home, she was in no rush to drop the thirty-five excess pounds keeping her life in the fat lane. If Serena was fronting the cheer squad, she wanted no part of it. And the warmth of a full stomach in the Florida sun felt really good.

 Maisy’s appetite had increased a lot since her dairy binge and unlike her plodding runs, was showing no signs of slowing. Still searching for a rung to climb back to some form of fitness, Maisy had cut her ‘three-milers’ to one kilometre jogs down the beach, and tried her best to get one in every Saturday and Thursday. She managed to recover some semblance of her former fitness, with a little muscle returning to her thighs. The jelly roll she grabbed when she bent forward on finishing was staying stubbornly put, however. The stopwatch would dangle off her neck, she grab it and push the button with a hand on her fleshy hip, breathing heavily. Her eyes would widen, and her lip would quiver as she took in the reading. Her times were getting slower and slower.

 She tried to factor in an evening workout to combat the slide. What once left her feeling refreshed and raring however left her feeling sweaty and sparkless. Annie’s cooking would lift her spirits enough after a long shower. She’d take meals up to her room, and eat them as she dried her hair, and got into her big, comfy pyjamas. Sundays were her lazy days, where she’d recover from her run the previous day with her feet up in front of the TV, or curled up with a good book in bed, reading as she snacked to wicked excess.

 After she finished her classes on a dragging Monday, Maisy found the vending machine at the corridor past the labs. Her snug jeans creaked as she made her way over. She opened her purse, slipped a note inside and punched in the letter and number for a Twinkie. It twisted out its slot, fell, but lodged in a space just above the shutter. Maisy sighed and rapped the glass with her chubby fist. She planted a knee softly into the side. Her snack resisted her efforts. Tired and hungry, Maisy moved on in a huff. She’d make amends at Annie’s, with poundcake and ice cream.

“You’re not going to just walk away from that, are you?” a voice called to her.

Maisy turned around. There was tall guy leaning by the doorway in a bomber jacket, with his hands in his pocket.

“It’s stuck,” Maisy shrugged. “I can’t move it.”

“Hmm. Maybe you could use a little help from Sacagawea.”

The tall , dark stranger pushed himself up to his feet and inserted a dollar coin into the machine.

“Let me see…B…5”.

He punched the number for another Twinkie. It clattered down and bumped the first as it landed on top. But neither dropped any further.

“Huh.” he said. He put the change back into the machine and added another dollar. Another Twinkie shifted out of the plastic coil, and dropped atop the stacked pair. None of them moved.

“Well, this sucks,” Maisy said. “Maybe we could go ask the janitor?”

 She didn’t want to go alone. Looking like she did, with her belly pooching over her belt buckle, and ever so slightly out of her shirt, the thought of her asking someone to help liberate her precious Twinkies made her cringe. Sure, Maisy was hungry. But she wasn’t quite hungry enough to suffer that.   

“No need,” he smiled. “I think Doc Marten will be a little more persuasive.”

The tall boy stretched his legs, and strode to the end of the corridor. Maisy only cottoned on that he was about to kick the glass the moment before he ran up and flung out a leg. He bounced back on one foot off the machine. The Twinkies stayed put.

Maisy shifted over for a closer look.

“Well…I think they moved a little…” she said, trying to salvage his ego. The boy smiled at her.

“I’ll try with the right this time” he said. He took a bigger run up, charged, then kicked out straight at the spot.

 His shoe broke clean through into the machine. The glass cracked apart, falling loose off the pane and shattering to the floor in a thousand pieces.

“Shit!” he said. He snatched the Twinkies. “Run!” he yelled.

 He grabbed Maisy’s hand and ran with her out of the corridor. Her wobbly legs were suddenly thrown into gear. They steered away from the building and powered across the square. They ducked behind a gorse of palm trees, then crouched down. No-one had seen them. Maisy lowered herself to sit, and the stranger sat down by her.

“You think we’re safe here?” he asked. Maisy brushed her hair out of her face as she caught her breath.

“Yeah,” she huffed. “All that…just for a Twinkie?”

 “I guess they are pretty good.” the stranger shrugged. He stuck his hands in his pockets and brought back the Twinkies. He gave them all to Maisy.

“Oh no” Maisy said. “I can’t take all of them. They’re yours.”

“Honestly, I insist.” he said. He pressed them into her palms.

“Uhh, thanks.”

“I’m Zack.” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Maisy.” she replied. Maisy suddenly froze. “I mean…Hannah.”

“Hannah Maisy?” said Zack, half-smiling.

“Err…yeah. Hannah Maisy Pinkerton. Selles!”

Oh my god. Why not just give him your bank details too? she said to herself as she tried to avoid his eyes. Yeah…Chief Kint would not be happy right now.

She gave him a nervous smile, and pushed back a strand of her hair.

Oh whatever. He’s a guy and we’ve only just met. He’ll probably forget all my names later.

“Wow. Hannah Maisy Pinkerton Selles.” said Zack. “Would you like a pumpkin-spice latte to go with your Twinkies?”

“Shut up!” Maisy laughed. She looked around her. “I’m not…I’m not like that.”

“It’s your favourite, right?””

“Shhh!” Maisy put her finger to her lips as she finished her first Twinkie off. “Don’t tell anybody, ok? I’ll never live it down.”

“What, really?” Zack laughed. “That’s amazing. But in all seriousness though, would you like one?”

“Huh?” said Maisy.

“You know. A latte… it doesn’t have to be pumpkin spiced. Heck, it doesn’t have to be a latte – could be any kinda coffee – I was just about to go to Starbucks and I…err…wondered if you’d like to join me?”

 His hand had found the nook between his back of his head and his shoulders and he smiled nervously. Maisy smiled back.

“Yeah,” she said, opening another Twinkie wrapper. “Sure.”

 

 Zack drove the two of them there in his pickup truck, crossing the bridge over the Halifax river that linked Eldora to the mainland. Soon Maisy was enjoying her pumpkin spice latte with a pumpkin cream cheese muffin, which he insisted on buying for her. They talked for hours, about college, cars, what they did for fun. Maisy knew she wasn’t supposed to, but she couldn’t help spilling away details about her past. She got a fair share back in turn – she learned that he had a mom in Miami and a sister pretty close by, that he loved cars, that he had a job as a mechanic out of town and that his dream was to race in NASCAR. She told him that she worked in the Daytona International Speedway once for a little extra cash during spring, and that she’d met all the star drivers at her hot dog stand. He was awestruck.

Zack offered to drive her home, and before they parted, arranged a date at the pizzeria the next day. Annie made a fuss over her as she’d expected after they’d watched him drive away. She’d missed out on some homemade pizza of her own, but it was no matter – her host had kept some wrapped in aluminum foil for her to enjoy later.

 They had pizza the next day, ice cream on the beach the following Sunday, watched a film at hers the Sunday after, another the next Saturday. They got into the habit of going shopping together, for more movies, more sweets – and for Maisy, more clothes. The whole wardrobe she’d brought with her from Daytona had soon become useless; her body now warranted plus size styles. Luckily, Eldora had no less than three independent clothing stores that could keep her well supplied with things to wear to college. Maisy was glad for it – each day she set herself the target of outshining Serena, and each day when she felt Zack’s arm around her waist as they walked the corridors she knew she certainly had. He was by far the hottest guy in their class.

 A few months together later, he offered to take her on a fly fishing trip off the coast. Maisy had to decline – she’d have loved to, as she assured him, and she would have had fun. But the only slot available in the week overlapped her doctor’s appointment, and she knew she couldn’t keep putting it off. She’d postponed it twice already, and she fast ran out of excuses. She could hardly say she couldn’t go because she was sick, after all.

“Doctor’s go well?” Zack asked when he came to pick her up. “Ankle okay?”

“Oh, my ankle’s great. I’m great. It was wonderful,” Maisy exclaimed. “Never felt better, till I got on the scale and found out I lost minus fifty pounds…”

Zack’s face blanked.

“Errr…congratulations?” he offered. 

“Hooray…” Maisy cheered, passionlessly. She lifted up her shirt. “It’s a…belly…”

“Oh, that’s great news, honey.” said Zack, playing along with listlessness. “What should we call it?”

Maisy linked her fingers under the bulging fat, hoisted it and let it drop on her lap.

“I haven’t thought about any belly names.” she mumbled. “I’ll settle for annoying. Most bellies are.”

“You have a beautiful belly, Hannah.” said Zack.  

“I have a big belly, Zack. And speaking of that, would you mind driving me to class tomorrow? I kinda don’t wanna take the bus any time soon.”

“I don’t get how those things relate…” said Zack. “Has the driver been giving you the look or something?”

“No, he’s lovely as always, it’s just I think he thinks I’m pregnant…” Maisy said, smiling nervously. “Okay, I know he thinks I’m pregnant – I gave him my pass, my shirt rolled up an inch, it got awkward so I told him I was due soon, I don’t know why.”

Zack laughed.    

“Just keep me on the down low for a month or two, ok?” she said. “Zack…”

“Alright.”

 He picked her up and took her to marine biology class early the next morning. They nipped to the plaza to a coffee shop first, for a drink and a snack. This soon became routine. They’d alternate each morning buying each other coffees, but Zack would always pay for the snacks. The only thing that ever changed were the muffins on their order, which grew from half a triple chocolate, to a full triple chocolate, then a triple chocolate with a blueberry, then a blueberry and a cinnamon. Soon she was scarfing down three muffins a time, after a rich fried breakfast every morning with Annie.    

 Maisy’s fitness regimen went moribund. The kilometre jogs dissolved into simple long walks with Zack down the beach – now enough, Maisy noted, to get her out of breath. The cheerleader was getting fatter and fatter. Her form shifted as she grew – gone was her hourglass waist, though she remained bottom heavy, with her ass widening and thickening more. Meal after meal Maisy’s stomach grew bigger, her appetite grew heartier, her breakfasts and lunches longer and longer. Her clothes were getting tighter too – much tighter – forcing her to release a few seams, or leave a few buttons undone. The stores in Eldora that could once cater for her growing size were struggling to cope; Maisy noticed her options were growing increasingly limited.   

 Often she would get up in the morning and throw on a pair of stretchy slacks. She got into a routine of avoiding herself in the mirror. The slim girl she’d always been had slipped away. As her belly started to form a deeper crest, she wondered what was in store for her once the Trafficones were safely off her scent. Would they even recognise her now? Would the rest of her family? Would Beth, her best friend? Her boobs had hit the DD range – they were becoming more than a handful.

 She wondered why the change was happening so fast. Her doctor was certainly struggling for words on her final check-up visit a couple months later.

“Miss Selles, I’m baffled,” he murmured. Maisy tried to put on a serious face, but giggled as the cold callipers seized a glob of her belly fat and gave it a jiggle. “Do you feel constantly hungry?” he asked her. “Do you feel you have an urge to eat beyond fullness?”

“No…I just…I enjoy it…”

“You enjoy being clinically obese?”

Maisy blinked. The ‘o’ word knocked her back a little.

“No…err…I just enjoy my food…”

 She looked over her shoulder, past her curtain of golden hair at her heart-shaped behind. “It’s just…I’m in a relationship,” she said, smiling as she flung her hair back. “This is relationship weight, that’s all...I think…”

“It’s three hundred and two pounds, and rising, Hannah.” the doctor said, tutting at the reading she’d given him on the scale. “There’s no medical explanation for it. It seems you’re making a choice to do this to yourself. You’ve been eating more and more, and moving less and less. But it’s not too late to change your mind. You need to diet and exercise.”

 Maisy ensured that appointment was her last. She didn’t need another source of browbeating about her size – Serena provided more than enough already.

 “Welcome to Marine Biology Class”, she’d chimed on entering the lecture room early one afternoon. She took a seat at the lecturer’s table. “Today we’ll be studying Hannah.” she announced to everyone else. Maisy sat at the front and fumed, counting Serena’s lucky stars that Zack had skipped the lecture for a meeting with his boss. She opened her desk for her stash of snacks in the corner, twisted and stuck a middle finger up at the cheerleader and her skinny friends as she rammed a Twinkie in her mouth.

 If her handsome new boyfriend had reservations about her gaining, she thought he was hiding it awfully well. There’d be a little more of herself to cuddle whenever they had movie and chocolate nights in Annie’s house, perched together on a love seat he’d brought from his aunt’s old place as a present. Each time he kissed her cheek Maisy would feel his lips pushing on a little more softness. Everything that was ever tight or toned about her had melted away – the only firmness on her torso she felt these days was on the roof of her belly after a big meal at Zack’s place. She’d often waddle to bed after their dates with a stomach stuffed hard, in need of a good massage before she could fall asleep. 

 Maisy was well aware of the effect the food was having on her figure. Her boyfriend’s meals were too hard to turn down, so she tried to make amends by snacking less, or denying herself supper at night. But the next morning she’d wake with a deep rumble in her stomach, and make herself double the breakfast.

Whether she was happy or upset, bored or busy, Maisy would eat. Food was in glorious abundance all around her. Having a full mouth was becoming as natural to her as breathing. Having a fuller body was filling her with a weird wonderment. Sometimes she’d look down at the paunch steadily rolling over her thighs and hate it. It was so massively different to the toned tummy she’d sported before. But other times, most often when she was in Zack’s arms, she’d feel beautiful and sexy. No matter what direction her weight was going in, holding his hand made her feel light as air.

 She felt warm and carefree in his company as the lay together on the couch, watching a movie. He fed her chocolate buttons, and she opened up to accept every sweet mouthful. They’d already had many chocolate and movie nights at Annie’s house, nestled together on the love seat in the front room. This was their first at his place, an apartment above the stores in the Eldora plaza.

 She could barely keep up with the plot as she felt the chocolate dissolve on her tongue, and Zack’s hand around her waist, his chest rising softly against her back. She stroked a finger under his chin, hooked him over to her face, and kissed him. They kissed and kissed, for what felt like hours. Maisy felt a hand on her lap, and a finger tease away the tight button of her jeans. She curled the finger in her own and pushed it away. She gave him a nervous smile.

“Mmm…you’ve done this before, right?” Zack said.

“Yeah,” said Maisy. “Just…not like this…”

She let her words hang, unsure what more to say.

“Not on the couch? Uhh…okay.” said Zack. Hr helped her sit up and glanced at the white door.

 Maisy realised they were moving from the couch to the bedroom. It hadn’t been quite what she’d meant. She’d banged before. She’d had a steady stream of boyfriends – jocks, skaters, meatheads – and some had indeed banged her on the couch. But she’d never banged anyone she outweighed. Always it was her partner who’d had the extra pounds on her. The thought of it being the other way around didn’t make her feel comfortable.

 Her nerves were heightened when Zack cuddled her, then tried to stand up with her cradled in his arms. His attempt at chivalry only left her wobbling, and on his fourth desperate try to stand Maisy groaned and rolled herself off his lap, hitting the floor with a thud.

 He hurriedly apologised. She batted his hands away when he offered to help her and rose awkwardly, but under her own power. Maisy felt she had to take charge.

“Look, Zack,” she said slowly. “I like you. I really like you, but there’s a couple things you should know. I weigh over three hundred pounds, okay? I’m a big girl. I’m not going to be a feather in your arms, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself trying.”

He smiled sheepishly. 

“Two is that yes, I’ve had sex. I’ve had a lot of sex. But I’ve never done like this.”

She put her hands of her yielding hips and did a slow turn to emphasise herself. Her chubbiness was engulfing.  

“I’ve never been so huge.

 Her ass was facing him, so she stuck it out a little, just to push the message harder. There was a lot of her for him to handle.

 What she didn’t expect was for him to stand up and push back against her. Maisy felt a rock hard warmth through the seat of her jeans. Her golden hair fell past her face as she hung there for a delightful moment. Hands that were coarse, but with a touch wonderfully smooth, settled on her love handles. Maisy bit her lip. He slid his arms under hers, straightening her up. Maisy giggled as his solid, stony biceps tensed under her armpits, moulding the swell of her rounded shoulders. His fingers meanwhile were slowly dancing on her belly.

“Hehe. Wasn’t always this way, you know,” she said. “Fell out of the game this year, then clinical obesity kinda raced up on me. Unnff.”   

 He squeezed her. She’d brushed the dust off the source of her secret, and she realised it was turning him on. Maisy decided to dip her toe a little further into the water.

“I gained these last thirty pounds so quickly.” she groaned. “You must have noticed, huh? You must have seen what I’ve been eating…”

“What have you been eating?” Zack mumbled, his eyes closed.

“Mmm…too much, I guess.” Maisy said, licking her lips. She parted from him and turned around, slowly raising an eyebrow. “Too much cake. Extra helpings of pudding. More ice cream. Much, much more chocolate.”

She took his wrists in her hands.

“And it’s been going here…”

She edged her jeans down a couple of inches, untucking her belly. She traced his hands in lazy circles around its swell. 

“And to these…

She picked a button off from her chest and let his hands cup her breasts within her bra. His thumbs stroked their plump softness. She looked deep into his eyes as he gave them a firm squeeze.

“And here.”

 She brought them down again, to the negligible space between her thighs. She let out a murmur as she suddenly felt his fingers slip between them. Their rolling flesh quivered and parted. Maisy felt a rippling buzz. Her fingers tightened on his wrists.

“Mmmpphh…yes….”

Her nerves tingled more than ever, and she smiled stupidly. Suddenly her expanse was turning her on too – her width, her curves, her depths of softness made her feel much more sensual. There was so much more to be played with. He picked off the lower button on her shirt. In an instant she found herself tearing at his clothes – he lost his jacket and his t-shirt, and she pulled down his jeans. He kicked them off and prised Maisy out of hers. They raced to the bedroom and leapt onto the bed, squishing and tangling together. Zack picked the buttons off her shirt, one by one, making out with her heavily.   

 Just as she coaxed him into accepting her tongue, Maisy felt a twang across the bottom of her shoulder blades. Zack had unhooked her bra. Her cups billowed down to her lap, and she gasped as her huge breasts rolled free, plumply bouncing before her. His eyes grew wide as saucers.

Maisy smiled wolfishly, then rolled on top of him. He grinned as she slowly spread herself over his chest, letting him feel her fullness, then hankered up to her hands and knees. She scooted higher up his body then let her bountiful breasts flop on his dumbstruck face.

“Thought you’d like a closer look.” she said with a smirk. She rested them over his eyes. She felt his breath, hot and heavy, on the skin below, and felt herself grow hotter and wetter. She lifted herself off his face and sat back on her haunches. She fished his raging manhood out of his boxer shorts, and gave it a squeeze while he reached for the drawer by the bedside. His fingers twitched rhythmically as he found a condom. Maisy took it from him, tore the packet open with her teeth and slipped in on for him.

 

 Then she slipped herself over him, sinking down, then rising up again, smiling devilishly at him squirming beneath her. Her blubbery body rippled as she wound into a waving motion. She tested how much of her he could take, dropping down with a little more weight every time, while his groans grew and grew. She gripped her flopping breasts, rose up and twisted around, giving him a perfect view of her bulging ass as she got on with some reverse cowgirl.

 Maisy twisted back a few moments later, still moistening in the air of his moans, but craving the looks on his face. She rode a little longer before he muscles began to strain under the pressure of making her bulky body perform. A light sheen of sweat crept over her breasts and belly. Her breathing grew ragged.

“Whoah…phew…I think you’re gonna have to do the work babe. I’m pooped”. Maisy pushed back strands of her sweat-matted hair. “So tired…I’ve lost a lot of stamina since my cheerleading days…oh…oooh!”

 She felt him stiffen even harder inside her, and let out a moan of ecstasy. She rocked back, warm and delirious. Zack withdrew himself a little, then eased his legs from under her wide rump. Maisy nearly screamed in delight as they fell back together, her plush body merging once more with the mattress, him on top, thrusting slowly, powerfully.

“Hell yeah, I’m a cheerleader. Didn’t I mention?” Maisy whispered into Zack’s ear. She could tell he was loving it. “Or at least, I used to be. I’ve kinda changed a lot since I left my old campus.”

His toes curled up as he thrust her again. Maisy’s voice dropped an octave. 

“You could say I’ve gotten a little…out of shape.”  

Her words and her rising sweatiness made him gather pace.

“Maybe a bit…husky?” she giggled. “More…meaty?”

She danced round the truth with a knowing grin, kissed and let her tongue dance round his mouth again.

“…stacked?” she whispered in his ear as she pulled away and brought his hand to her breasts. She felt him nudge her spot and moaned.    

“I can still dance, though,” she said softly, tingling all over. “I can still shake it, can’t I?”

Maisy wiggled her wide hips beneath him, slid her arms over her head, locked them and tried to gyrate slowly and sexily. Her tummy brushed along his abs. 

“Uh…uh…oooh…oh, good lord. This is harder than I thought!”

She pictured her routines and tried to groove her ass to the beat of a song she’d heard a long time ago. She saw herself slim again, but as she tried to copy her moves on the bed she saw pounds pile onto that image. Her dance moves shrunk while her body grew in her mind…she felt it all, all around her. Maisy flashed open her eyes. 

“Hnngghh…hnnghhh…god, I’m so fucking fat!” she screamed.

Dropping both the F-words sent Zack into a frenzy. He pumped wildly, penetrating her expanses of flesh further and further. Then he stopped abruptly. He left her for a moment that felt like an age as he reached back for the drawers. Left wanting, Maisy grunted in complaint. But she gasped when she saw he’d come back with a box of cake.

He entered her again, and as they shifted as one he removed the packaging. It was a chocolate cake, rich and gooey. Zack didn’t bother with cutting the slices. Instead he seized a thick hunk straight from the middle, and crammed it straight into Maisy’s mouth.

Maisy murmured in ecstasy as she chewed and swallowed. Another messy handful was offered to her, and she accepted. Chocolate smeared over her cheeks, crumbs caked her lips as Zack fed her, and pumped her. He snatched up succulent chunk much larger than the last, locked eyes with her and stuffed it into her chubby cheeks.

The effect was ecstatic and instantaneous. Maisy screamed through her mouthful of chocolatey goodness. She came with him, long and hard. Her every pound let off a firework inside her, then melted onto the mattress. She felt herself pool and spread – three hundred and fifty pounds of softly purring pleasure.

When her breath had returned, she opened her eyes with a sigh. Zack had removed his condom, but was still lying on top of her. His lips were flat, his eyes were shut, and she realised that he’d fallen asleep.

Maisy smiled warmly. She stroked his stubbly chin, glided her messy hair away from her face, and relaxed. Soon she too was slumbering.

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The next morning, Zack barely spoke to her.

 Maisy woke up alone in her bed, a little miffed to find Zack wasn’t still using her breasts as a pillow, but still in bliss from the fond memories of the night before. She found the plate and breakfasted on the remnants of the chocolate cake. Rising to her feet still naked, she got up to find her boyfriend.

She saw him in the bathroom, fully dressed, packing his swim shorts and a towel into a zip-up bag. 

“Aren’t you getting ready?” he asked without facing her. “We’ve gotta leave soon.”

“Where are we going?” Maisy asked.

“The waterpark, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” said Maisy. “I thought we were going to make muffins today, though?”

“Later” Zack said. “I already bought our wristbands. We’ve gotta go now.”

“Ok.”

 Maisy frowned as she made her way to the closet. She hadn’t been all that enthusiastic about the idea when Zack set a date a week ago; she’d hope her reluctance had convinced him to change his mind. It hadn’t, and she’d begun to wish she had the strength to just say no. But she couldn’t say that, because she knew Zack would ask why. No matter what excuse she came up with, he’d probably discover the truth.

 Maisy found her one-piece navy blue bikini, curled in a ball in the corner of the closet. It did not fit her. It hadn’t really fit the last time she’d worn it at their beach date a month ago, and she’d only put on more weight since then.

 She ruled out asking Zack for help – she didn’t want him to see her struggling with something that was supposed to be so simple. Maisy stepped into the suit and pulled the straps up to her shoulders, grunting as she felt a massive wedgie. She was not comfortable. The suit cut harshly into her fat, especially around her arms, and between her thighs. Around her belly the material was stretched so much the colour had changed from navy blue to sky. It rubbed against her as she walked around the bed for her jeans and the shirt she’d worn last night – she knew it was a little lazy, but she wasn’t in the mood for rooting around for a different ensemble that again, might not fit her.

 Zack stayed distant on the drive over to Daytona Lagoon. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but she didn’t want to potentially start a fight, right before they had a date together. She hoped the water park would lift up his spirits.

 Once they got there, neither of them found joy. No sooner had they stripped to their swimwear and met outside the changing rooms than Zack made an excuse and left her, saying he wanted to do a few lengths of the wave pool.

“Just to tone up,” he said. “I’ve not been to the gym in a while.”

“If you want to tone up, why not just go to the gym?” said Maisy, a hint of irritation in her voice. “Who works out in a wave pool?”

“I’ll be an hour. Have fun.”

Maisy scowled at him as he walked away.

He’d rather spend an hour getting splashed around swimming the same pool over and over than spend time with me?  

She dawdled in the opposite direction, procured an inflatable tube, then sat in it as she wound around the lazy river. It helped sooth her mood, but not her concerns. What was on his mind?  

 Her legs soon tired from gently kicking, and so she simply lay back and relaxed. Her eyelids felt heavy, but they soon snapped open when she saw a petite, dark haired girl drift elegantly beneath her under the water. The girl broke the surface and flicked her hair back with a flourish.

“Gotta say Hannah, I couldn’t tell you apart from the tube under there,” said Serena. She smiled wickedly. “Is that huge blue thing in the middle really your ass?”

 Maisy grimaced. She wanted to stick a finger up and leave, but the only way would mean her paddling against the river current. She didn’t want to give Serena the satisfaction of watching her try, and quite possibly fail.

“Yeah.” she said, bluntly. She tried to think of an insult to hit back with, but nothing came to mind. She could only pretend the words were bouncing off her.

“Do you seriously not notice yourself getting fatter?” Serena asked. “It’s ridiculous. I swear it’s like you’ve gained me on top of you since last year. Back when you were like twice my size anyway.”

“Maybe I’m worth three of you,” Maisy said, gritting her teeth. “My boyfriend thinks so.”

“You have a boyfriend?” Serena said, raising her eyebrows.

“Yeah…”

“Really? Where is he?”

“He’s working out.”

“Oh, I see, just like you’re clearly not,” Serena laughed. She stretched out an arm and swam gracefully to the side of the river. “I’d keep an eye on him if I were you. You’re getting so out of shape. You could forgive him for looking over your shoulder.”

“Shut up,” Maisy muttered. “He likes me like this.”

 She puffed out her chest. Her burgeoning boobs had grown nearly to the size of Serena’s head. Maisy looked down at her mortal enemy’s bosom and smirked. She had nothing to compare in that department.

“Well, my boyfriend likes a girl who can touch her toes,” Serena said. “Can you even see yours over those things? Or is it your belly that gets in the way?”

“Go fuck yourself.” Maisy cursed.

 Serena only sniggered.

“Fuck myself? Let me meet your boyfriend first, I’m sure he’d love to help,” she called, backstroking away. “Later tubby.”

 Serena glided over to the steps. Maisy seethed as she sat for one more circuit, then flopped out of her tube and left the lazy river. Feeling stung, she sought out Zack from the edge of the wave pool and called him over. He finished the remainder of his lap, then swam over to her.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s nothing. Can we go get food?”

“Yeah.” Zack shrugged. “Alright.”

 They found seats at the WAVE bar, and she offered to pay for her meal and his in the hope that it might cheer him up. He said nothing. Something was clearly on his mind. He barely touched his fries and pizza while Maisy chowed down hungrily.

“Some bitch picked on me while you were away.” she muttered, looking at Zack as if it were his fault. He was still looking past her.  

“She said I was tubby…

 She let the words hang, hoping they’d send him into war mode. But he looked like he was hardly listening. Maisy pouted, then seized a slice of his pizza and stuffed it in her mouth to try and catch his eye. Even then he paid her no mind.    

She ended up finishing her meal and most of his. She wiped her plump lips with a napkin.

“What do you want to do now?” she asked Zack. “Some weights? Got to a sauna, maybe?”

Zack shrugged, then looked over her shoulder.

“Err…maybe we could go on that one?” he said, pointing to Adventure Mountain. It was a pair of pink and green slides that spiralled from a big blue platform. Maisy left the money on the table and approached the long flights of metal stairs. Conscious of her jiggling ass, she let Zack pass her, then followed up behind him, pulling her way up by the balustrade. There was no queue, and Maisy was quite tired by the time she reached the top.

“Ok,” she puffed, a hand on her stomach. “Wanna race? I’ll take the pink one.”

“No, take the green.” said Zack. “I…err…I want the pink one.”

Maisy threw him a sly glance as he took his seat.

“Okay…”

She trudged over and took a seat on the green slide.

“Three…two…one…go!” she yelled. Maisy scooted her way into the tunnel, crossed her arms over her chest, laid her head back and slid into the darkness. She squealed as she picked up speed, emerald shades rushing around her. She pushed up against the sides as the spirals grew tighter, water splashing into her face. She flung out her arms to try and slow herself down, bobbing and sloshing like crazy until….

Pppprrrrnnnngghhhh….

 Her body ground to a halt. Maisy opened her eyes to see green plastic. She bucked her hips to get herself going again, but soon found they were stuck at the sides. Water flowed over her shoulders, parting over her boobs, which were blocking her vision as she tried to sit up and see. She swore as she realised she was stuck in the final turn. Her belly brushed the sides as her breaths became panicked.

 Suddenly, Maisy heard another squeal. A rush of water flowed over her, then a mass of bones collided with her body from behind. A pair of dainty feet shot over her shoulders

“Owww….” moaned Serena. “My coccyx…ughh…oh my god…Oh my god! Hannah, is that you?!”

Maisy grit her teeth.

This cannot get any worse… she fumed to herself.

Serena squealed again. She slipped as she struggled to get her legs off Maisy’s chest.

“Oh my god. This is a joke right? Please tell me you’re not stuck.”

Maisy grunted as she squirmed. “Nhngghh…no…mmmpphh…ufff….I’m tryna get free…”

Her big breasts wobbled as she tried to wiggle herself down.

“Hurry up!” Serena screamed. “Before the next person comes down here – oh my god, oh my god. I’m going to die. I’m going to get crushed!”

“Seriously, shut up,” said Maisy. She kicked her legs more. “Hnnnghhh…hnnghhh…” she groaned.

“Right. That’s it,” said Serena. “You’re too fat to unblock yourself. I’m calling for help.”

“Don’t you dare!” Maisy said icily.

“No. No way. I am not going to die in here because you just couldn’t stop eating frickin’ Twinkies!” Serena screamed. Her nasal voice echoed down the slide tunnel. “Lifeguard! Lifeguard, help!”

 Maisy squirmed and shunted herself. She wanted to punch Serena in the nose. But she could do that no more than she could scoot her thick ass out of the tunnel corner. She could no longer deny it. She was stuck fast, and utterly helpless.

 It took six lifeguards to rescue the two cheerleaders. Two of them shut off the water supply, then crawled through the tunnel to retrieve a hysterical Serena. The others used a hydraulic raising platform to rise to where Maisy was stuck. They then unscrewed the section of the slide from the outside. She was freed from the tube with the help of an industrial lubricant, and slowly taken on the platform back to the ground. The ordeal had taken the better part of an hour, and the whole waterpark population had been staring.

 Maisy’s intense embarrassment turned to anger on the way down, as she saw Serena buried in the strong arms of her jock boyfriend.

Where was Zack?

The very least he could do was tell her she’d be alright, and maybe put a towel over her shoulders. It would help cover the growing tear that had appeared in her suit, a little to the left of her belly button.

She buried her face in her hair as she stepped off the platform and waddled away to the changing rooms. She pulled her clothes back on in sullen silence, then made for the exit. Zack was standing there, dressed, looking out to the horizon.

Maisy nudged him.

“Just get me away from here.” she sniffed. She threw herself into his truck, snapped on her seatbelt and folded her arms. They drove away in silence.

A few miles down the road, Maisy told Zack to pull into a McDonald’s drive-thru. She said no more. Zack looked at her when they came to order. Her lips stayed sealed.

“A double cheeseburger, a large fries and a large cola please.” he told the lady behind the window.

“Regular or diet?”

“Whatever.” he said. Maisy folded her arms a little tighter. He paid on his card, they got their food from the next window, and Maisy opened her burger wrapper as they hit the road again. She took a succulent bite, then another, then another. Soon she was gorging, stuffing in fries, breaking for sips of cola. She refused to look at her boyfriend.

Ask her why.

“Hannah, why are you eating so much?”

Maisy lowered her burger from her mouth.

“Because you ordered it for me?” she retorted. “Like thirty minutes ago, remember?”

Zack looked at her. His eyes couldn’t quite focus on hers.

“But you don’t have to eat all of it.”

“I’m fucking upset, you asshole!” She took another angry bite. “Do I look like I’m in the mood for some shitty salad?”

“But you eat so much anyway.” said Zack. “I’m sorry...it is starting to show on you.”

 Maisy flinched. There was something off-putting – not just in what he was telling her, but the way he was saying it. He sounded weird.

“Okay, you jerk. I get it,” she said. “I don’t exactly look like Miss Universe. I’m hefty. So what? You certainly seemed happy enough about it last night.”

“But you are getting…heavier.”

He was cringing. He looked almost in pain. Maisy pushed the wrappers off her lap and turned to him.

“Seriously, Zack. Is this all you want?”

She cupped her boobs.

“Is it just these? Is that all you love about me? I hope it’s not a news flash for you, but girls gain weight in other places too. We can’t all be blessed with F cups and a twenty-four inch waist.”

Zack paused. She huffed, letting her belly bulge in her blue swimsuit.

He’d called it beautiful. Once…she thought.

“You don’t have a twenty-four inch waist,” he said, slowly. “Like, nowhere near.”

“I was being sarcastic?” Maisy balked. “Sheesh, don’t rub it in. I’m aware of my size…god…”

Ask her if she’s really fucking sure.”

“Are you sure?” Zack said. “You’ve…you’ve put on so much weight since we’ve been together.”

“Yeah.” Maisy said, looking down at the meal her boyfriend had bought for her. “I wonder why?”

 She picked up her burger and took a huge bite of the messily stacked meat and cheese, locking eyes while she chewed and stuffed, spitefully.

“Mmmphh…is that all I am, Zack? Am I just a piece of meat to you? You’re happy to feed me and fuck me but my feelings just don’t fall into the equation, do they? Fucking typical…”

“What about my feelings?” said Zack. “How do you think I feel…holding your - hand walking down the street? You’re so…no…I’m not saying that…”

Say it.”

“Tell me, Zack – huh?” said Maisy. “What was that?”

“Tell her she’s out of control. Tell her you’re ashamed of how she’s let herself go.”

He scratched his ear.

“Remind her what she just did. She broke a water slide. Tell her she belongs in a zoo.”

“Zack.” Maisy said. “What’s that noise?”

 “Nothing.” he stammered.

“Break her, Mister Adamson. Break her, or we’ll break you.”   

“Zack, please. What’s going on?”

“Nothing! I said nothing!”

 She saw him wipe a hand across his brow, and at the same time stick a finger into his ear. A little black widget came out on the tip. He flicked it out the window, into the river just as they were driving over it on the bridge. Zack brought the truck to stop in the middle.

“Hannah…just get out of here. While you still can.” he said quietly.

Maisy looked out the windscreen at the sugar-cube neighbourhoods in the distance behind the steely sign.

“You can’t drop me here, we’re nowhere near my house!” she protested. “We’re not even in Eldora!”

“Hannah, for the love of god, please listen to me. You have to go.”

“But…you can’t just dump me like this!” she shouted.

“I’m sorry,” Zack said, a hand on his head. “Maisy, I’m so sorry.”

“Save it, you jerk.” Maisy muttered, tears glistening on her eyelashes. She whipped off her seatbelt and shuffled out of his truck. She slammed the door shut, turned to the river, then began walking back the way they’d driven. She did not want to see him drive away.

 Once the sound of the rumbling engine had disappeared, Maisy turned back around. Something within her really didn’t want to go back to Annie’s. She wished she’d never come to Eldora. She wished she’d never met Zack. Her fury stopped her short of wishing herself slim again. That was what he wanted.

How could he do this to me? Maisy thought, wiping her tears away.

 She didn’t want to cross the bridge back again, but her bedroom was in that direction, and she had nowhere else to go. The walk home sucked for her. More tears fell from her cheeks. Sad music crept into her thoughts as she tried to take her mind away. She cursed, frustrated as her size continued to bother her. In five strides she realised every facet of her cheerleading figure was long gone. Her thighs were chafing, her back ached and her feet throbbed in her flip-flops. The tear on her swimsuit grew and grew, until soon she was reduced to clasping the tattered pieces together to cover up her bulging body. She returned to Annie’s house tired and grumpy, with her eyes red raw from crying, and her plump arms burned from a long hour in the sun. Blanking her friendly hostess, she brushed past into the living room and fell into the love seat she and Zack had once shared, for some much needed R&R.

 Every bit as puzzled as she was upset at what had happened between them, Maisy turned to food. For hours on end she drowned her emotions in cake and ice cream, watching cheesy dramas from her love seat. Before she reached the brink of tears again she managed to call Bethany. She promised to come over with chocolates and wine as soon as she was free from work.  

 Against her advice, Maisy texted Zack over what had happened. She checked every minute for a reply, for a whole afternoon, evening and night. But none came. Maisy fell asleep sullenly in her seat, and on discovering no new messages in the morning she tearfully accepted the worst.

 He hired some guy to coach him through breaking up with me, she decided. Because he was too big a coward to tell me that I’ve gotten too fat. That I’ve gotten too fat for him now.

 She soothed her anger in syrup lathered on pancakes fresh from the oven. She hadn’t told Annie about her breakup, but she seemed to know something was wrong. She kept her well-fed with freshly baked cookies, muffins, and more cake, all of which Maisy was more than eager to gobble up. It was delicious, after all. 

 Basking amongst mounds of comfort food, Maisy expected a few breakup pounds. It had happened to her before. But even as her mood recovered and she slowly trimmed her eating back down, she noticed something bizarre was happening with her weight. With every twitch of every muscle, Maisy felt a little more gravity. From the tips of her fingers to the dimples on her cheeks, she felt more heft, building upon her each and every day. Every morning the cheerleader found she needed a little extra oomph to get herself out of bed, even after her breakup-induced malaise had passed. The waddle down the stairs was claiming both her energy and her dignity – her sizeable body could barely keep its form, or she her composure as she jiggled and shook more on every descent. The climb back was worse on her lungs – one week the flight of stairs had felt like a mountain, the next she felt the same for every single step.

 Her surprise at her weight was matched by her surprise at her bulk. She soon noticed that she was beginning to fill up the love seat all by herself. In all directions she was quickly and softly expanding. Her skin was stretching so much she wasn’t even saggy – just balloon-like, with the swell of her stomach cresting almost to her knees. It was soft, yet woefully tight. At the top, it formed a shelf for breasts she was struggling to see over. She remembered her cheerleading days at the basketball games, filling out her uniform with some tactfully placed tissues. Now she was carrying around two basketballs of her very own.

Around the back, Maisy was convinced that she had developed stretchmarks on her ass, though having grown so much, she was simply unable to see. Turning around was becoming a hazard as much as an impossibility. Her brain was yet to tune into her widening dimensions – thus her dangerous curves oft knocked into shelves and counters, leaving little bruises on her soft sides. Spaces that her once lithe body had slipped harmlessly in and out of now pressed stubbornly into her hips. When Maisy wasn’t sat down, much grunting, huffing and puffing filled her day. Thus she was sat much more often than not, in an enormous matching purple bra and panties, her body lightly covered in cookie crumbs and sugar sprinkled from donuts.    

 Things came to a head one evening when upon plopping down on her love seat to dodge the effort of lowering herself slowly, Maisy heard a creak. She thought little of it at first, but as she lifted a slice of cake to her lips she heard a crack, and squealed as she sunk down into the pillows. The base of the love seat soon lost the fight to keep her hefty body up, and ripped, dumping her on the floor. Maisy was shocked, but she calmed herself, pushed her hair out of her eyes then struggled to sit up. Annie entered the room just as she flopped back down again, to her intense embarrassment.

“Oh Hannah, pumpkin, are you ok? Let me help you!”

“It’s fine, Annie…ughh…seriously…”

 With a surprisingly strong tug Annie got Maisy back to her feet. Soon she was tucked up warm in bed with a hot chocolate and marshmallows. Maisy drank it up as her mind wandered, wondering what on earth had happened. Eventually, she decided to call Bethany again. With a little effort she sat up fully, and leant over for her phone on the bedside table. She pushed back her hair again and tapped out her number.

“Maisy? Is that you?”

“Beth, where’ve you been? God, you were supposed to be here like, two weeks ago…”

“I’m really sorry. I’ve been so busy with race day coming up. I’m still at work. I’ve been trying to call you all day, your phone number’s restricted for some reason. You’re in a really weird area. Are you ok with everything? With Zack?”  

“With Zack? Yeah…no, it’s just…there’s something else. I don’t know how to tell you this and I know I’ve been eating a lot more, but I swear something’s up with my body. I keep getting fatter. I literally just broke a chair. I’m like, crazy fat, it’s insane.”

 She slapped her stomach. It was overflowing her thighs, pooching out between them onto the bedsheets.

“I need bigger clothes,” Maisy admitted in a low voice. “I can’t go outside any more – nothing fits me, it’s too embarrassing. I need you to come over and help measure me up, then maybe go get a dress for me to go out in, then maybe we can hit Volusia Mall and buy up other stuff. I’m literally down to the bra and panties I’m wearing right now. That’s it. And they’re tight on me.”

“…what size are they?”

“I don’t know, like…thirty?”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.” said Maisy. “Beth, we have to do something. I’m a fucking whale.”

There was silence down the line. Maisy bit her lip.

“You should have called me sooner,” Bethany said. “I promise I’ll help you through this. Call me again tomorrow, I promise I’ll come see you soon. I’ve got to go now, before the boss sees me not marking up. Stay safe, have a little walk, lay off the snacks a bit, okay?”

“Ughh. It’s not just me,” Maisy tried to say. “It’s something else, I know it.”

 But Bethany had already rung off. She sighed, gave her rumbling belly an annoyed squeeze, then denied it supper as she rested her head back on the pillow. The aroma of warm chocolate still in the air, Maisy soon drifted off to sleep.

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 It was the aroma of more pancakes that woke Maisy in the morning – or almost the morning. She had snoozed till quarter past twelve. Having missed her breakfast, her tummy rumbled softly while she sniffed the air with a slight smile. Annie was downstairs, making caramel coated pancakes.

 Maisy tried to sit up, and couldn’t. Her smile disappeared, and her brow creased up in concern as she pushed her chins into her chest, twisted, and barely moved. She dug her elbows into the spongy mattress and pushed.

 Baffled, she nudged her back on the pillows and rustled the duvet off herself. Maisy balked at her body. She reached out with her arms for an invisible ladder to grab on to, wiggling and shuffling. Feeling a sharp pinch of wire in her side, she realised she’d fallen asleep with a bra on – but it lay in her fat rolls, split in half.

Whoa. Is it just me or have I gotten fatter? she wondered.

 Maisy’s pupils widened. She had grown more – much more. Her butt, her belly and her thighs were a turgid blob, pooling together. Layers of underarm flab brushed past her cheeks as she stretched. She threw her arms down and tried to use the momentum to rise. It was useless.

Ufff… holy cow…

 Maisy was red-faced when the door creaked open. Annie, with a spring in her step and a cheery good afternoon placed a platter of pancakes upon Maisy’s doughy belly, leaving with a warm smile. Maisy watched the platter rise and fall on herself as she breathed heavily.

You’re dreaming she told herself. This is a dream. Eat up your pancakes and maybe they’ll help you wake up. You need energy, that’s all.

 She pushed her head against the headboard, took her knife and fork and steadily munched her way through the honey and caramel drizzled stack. When there were just crumbs, crusts and drops of honey left Maisy put the platter to one side and tried to lift herself out of bed again.

She did not move.

 The mattress was too spongy for her to push herself up, and her widened expanses were heavily restricting her movement. Maisy was determined not to leave herself adhered to her bed for the rest of the day. Bucking her huge hips, she managed to edge her heels over the side. She shuffled her legs over, then her belly sloshed to one side, and she yelped as she rolled off the bed. She hit the shag carpet on the floor with a big thump.

 Her fat rippled and jiggled, more than ever before. Maisy cursed. On a solid surface, she was able to find her feet, slowly. Her stomach jiggled and bound in front of her. She could feel rolls pushing her arms out to the sides. Groaning, she pushed back her tattered blonde mane and waddled around the bed for the phone on the bedside table. She sat back down on the edge of the bed, grimaced as she felt herself sink again, then called Bethany. She took a while to pick up. While she waited, Maisy scooped up the leftover pancake bits and let them fall into her open mouth.   

“Maisy? Is that you?”

“Mmmpphh…hey Beth. You’re coming when the race is finished, right? This is getting insane. I feel like I swallowed a lead balloon.”

“Maisy, thank god. Listen to my voice and don’t say a word. Don’t let them hear you.”

Bethany’s voice was a rushed whisper. Concerned, Maisy pressed the phone close to her ear.

“What’s up?” she whispered back.

“I found Eldora on Wikipedia,” Bethany said. “It’s a ghost town. According to this, there’s just two run-down buildings, and no people. It’s been that way since the eighties. You’re living in somewhere off the grid, entirely. The government doesn’t know you exist.”

“Umm…that’s ok, right?” said Maisy. “I’m in a witness protection programme. This place is probably kept on the down low on purpose. You know, so the bad guys won’t find me.”

“Maisy…I think they already have.”

She heard the fear creep into her best friend’s voice. She took a breath.

“Listen, the only other stuff I dug up about Eldora was a set of minutes from a consortium meeting used as evidence in a case that got thrown out of a circuit court session. That meeting was about the building work they were doing there; literally the whole community was constructed just two years ago, without the county’s knowledge. I looked up the companies who had guys on site – Windy City Drywall, the Lucchese Construction Group, Celafu’s Trucking and Dumpmaster’s – all of them have links to the Trafficones.”

Maisy shivered when she heard the name. The gangsters had long been out of her thoughts.

“They know you’re there, Maisy,” said Beth. “And I know this sounds crazy, but I think they’re the ones doing this to you. They’ve trying to fatten you up.”

 Maisy grasped a love handle and smoothed her fingers out. A bead of sweat appeared on her brow. She clenched her supple stomach fat.

They’ve done well… she thought to herself.

“Why?” she whispered. “Just…why?”

“I don’t know, but the earpiece thing you told me about, the free Bubbunut doughnuts delivered to your door – it all makes sense. And that ‘Anne Gretel’ lady you told me about – I think the mob’s putting serious pressure on her to keep feeding you. They must have given her that name…it’s like the bedtime story, Hansel and Gretel. Anne Gretel, you get it?”

Maisy paled.

“Hannah Selles. I’m meant to be Hansel…” she realised. “Oh my god.”

She felt her thighs, her arms and squeezed her chubby fingers.  

“Shit. Beth, I’m stuffed to burst,” she said desperately.  “What’s gonna happen to me? Are they gonna eat me? What should I do?”

“Get out, and don’t call the police.” Bethany said. “The Trafficones might have their own people in the office. Remember you’re living in a paper town, with paper people, cut right from a storybook. Anyone there – and I mean anyone, from the bus drivers to the doctors to the people in the stores, could be on their payroll. Be careful who you talk to – you don’t know who might be in on it…jesus, I’ve really got to go.”

She heard her garble something to their boss.

“Just get out of there while you still can. Do whatever it takes to get back to Daytona. It’s the only place where we can be sure you’ll be safe. Call me again when you’re somewhere we both recognise. Then I’ll lock up and come find you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Maisy breathed. “Okay.”

 Hearing footsteps, she hit the red phone button and buried the handset under her pillow, just as a whistling Annie shimmied past the bedroom door. It would be easier not to let the big old lady know she was abandoning her to the mob’s mercy. Maisy felt a twinge of guilt as she eased herself from the bed and began slowly packing up her handbag. Her Granny Annie had been so nice to her. But it was long past time to fly the nest. Maisy did not want to know how the story the Trafficones were writing for her was meant to end.

 Her handbag ready with her phone, keys, purse and a bottle of water, she opened her wardrobe and pawed around for clothes. Maisy quickly realised that her recent spate of rapid gaining would render her stuff useless. Her summery dresses had been too tight two weeks ago. She gave one a try, and found it wouldn’t even come close to slipping over her thighs, or her hips. Feeling around her smooth skin, Maisy realised her snug panties were gone too. They lay on her mattress by her bra, twisted and torn.   

Improvising, Maisy found her blue bikini from her fateful day at the pool. The giant tear had left her belly fully-bared – taking it in her fingers, she tore it till the suit was in two pieces.  She winced as she stretched the topmost over her head and brought it down to her boobs. With a squeeze and a shuffle, she was able to plant some of the shot material over her nipples. She planted a foot on the other half, then pulled up, letting the seams snap till the gap was wide enough. Then she edged her thunderous legs in, inch by inch, till the bikini was strung tight just under her hanging belly.

 Maisy grabbed her bedsheet and let it fall over her shoulders, cloaking her ass. It was the best she could do. She wanted to wrap it around her legs, to at least give her the semblance from afar of being covered up, but she knew it would only limit her much-beleaguered pace even more. She’d have a lot of walking to do before she could reach the bus stop. Maisy put a hand on her hip and frowned. She was not looking forward to it.

 Maisy brushed both sides of the doorway as she shuffled through. She slowly waddled down the corridor and reached the top of the stairs. Maisy took a deep breath, then made her way down. Every step turned the cheerleader’s flesh into a jiggling sea. She felt like an inflatable castle. She tried to step short and low in the hope of a quiet exit, but she could not stop the whining and groaning of the wood beneath her feet, nor her own heavy breathing once she reached the bottom. Simply putting one foot in front of the other – a troublesome task when she could barely see them – had gotten taxing, mentally and physically.

 Undeterred, Maisy smoothed over her bedsheet, pushed back her hair and waddled to the front door. Annie was stood in the doorway, wearing an apron. She turned her hip to face her.

“Now where in the world do you think you’re going?” she said in a Southern drawl. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of missing the big race?”

“Oh no, actually, that is where I’m going.” said Maisy.

She cursed herself inside for saying that. Remembering what had happened with the mob last year she knew it might trigger her hostess’s fears. Maisy’s face turned stony as Annie looked her in the eyes, but then a nervous blush filled her cheeks as she realised she was giving her a once over. She took a big breath in, but she knew even beneath her billowing sheet there was no hiding her new bulginess.

“But sweetie, surely you can’t go dressed like that?” said Annie. “Why those drapes ain’t clean. And besides, I made you some nice warm popcorn. Here, come to the living room. You’ve got the best seat in the house.”

 Annie led her away from the door. Maisy reluctantly trudged behind her. Her rocking chair was in front of the television, and beside it was a mountain of popcorn peeking out of a wide bowl, smothered in sugar. To her left was a bubbling fresh soda in a bucket-sized cup.  

“Umm…thanks. Really. But I kinda need to go soon.” said Maisy.

“Never mind about that, darling, you look so worn out already.” Annie said as she lifted the handbag out of Maisy’s arms.  “Here, take a seat…”

 She pushed gently on Maisy’s soft shoulders. Maisy felt the slightest kink in her knees before they gave way. She plopped her ass down onto the rocking chair, feeling herself mould into its cosy softness.

“Comfy?” Annie asked her.

“Yeah…” Maisy said, suddenly drowsy.

Ok, just a little more food she told herself. Keep her smiling. Don’t let her in on what you’re about to do.

 Maisy let a couple minutes pass. Her eyes wandered from the ad break on screen to the door. She had a long sip of soda, a few bites of popcorn, and then had an idea for half-decent excuse.

“Do you mind if I just go for a walk round the block?” she called to the kitchen. “I’ve been sitting around here for weeks, I think I need a little exercise.”

Annie clankered with some pans. Maisy figured she couldn’t hear her.

 “I mean, it’s hot out, I don’t need to be fully dressed,” she said a little louder. “I can get some fresh sea air, burn off a few calories, you know? I love your cooking but I’m turning into a blimp.”

She patted her stomach for emphasis. Annie shimmied back into the lounge.

Please help me out… Maisy stressed inside. Just a little walk outside the house. They won’t hurt you if I run away. You’ve done your job so well already…

“I don’t want to be like, five hundred pounds.” Maisy said to her. She pouted, then smiled sadly, giving her belly another pat. “You know?”   

“Oh, pumpkin…” Annie took Maisy’s hand and gave one of her fingers a squeeze. “You’re already there.”

“Huh?” said Maisy. Her plump face was a picture of bemusement.

“We had the floor cut out and installed a cattle scale in your bedroom…”

“What? Who’s we?”

“It’s under the shag carpet,” Annie continued. “We got a reading when you rolled off your bed an hour ago. Five hundred pounds…geez…we were surprised you didn’t keep rolling. You’ve gotten pretty darn fat, Hannah…”

 Annie’s voice had changed on that last word. The kindly old lady had disappeared. Instead a ragged, husky bark filled the air. Maisy felt a chill go down her spine.

“Who are you?” she asked, heart racing. “Are you one of them?”

 Anne Gretel offered a sickly smile that creased her wrinkles up just a little too far. They stayed hideously crinkled when she straightened her lips. She sighed, pushed a finger under her chin and peeled her face away. The woman beneath was younger, and harsh-looking. She reached a hand behind her head and tore off her silver perm. A shock of spiky, close cropped red hair folded out from beneath. 

“Heh,” she chuckled. “Bet you wish you could do this, you tubby fuck.”

 The woman winked. Maisy shuddered. She watched her Granny Annie stretch her arms and took off her flowery gown – underneath, she was wearing a fat suit. She ripped off the Velcro straps at the back and let it fall to the floor, leaving her in a slashed t-shirt and jeans. Her bare arms were covered in tattoos.

“So good to be free…” she sighed. She gave the fat suit a kick. “You know, I weighed myself in that thing on your scale, when you were out with Andy – sorry, Zack, whatever we called him. I was two-hundred and fifty pounds. Can you believe that?”

Maisy was speechless.

“Heh. Yeah, half what you are now. Imagine gaining, like, a hundred and twenty pounds every morning. Oh wait…”

Annie jabbed a finger into Maisy’s massive tummy.

“I guess you sorta can. You’ve put on a hundred this week alone, you greedy pig. Seven stone and two pounds, courtesy of a doctor friend of ours. We’ve been keeping tabs.”

Maisy’s eyes bulged. She barely reacted as Annie grabbed her belly, and gave it a shake.

“Better start watching what you eat, huh? You don’t wanna lose your figure…”

She let go and smirked as she watched Maisy’s flabby fat make waves.

“Or maybe watch what we’ve been putting in your drinks. They sure have been working a charm. I gotta say it was never our intention to use those pills, but your pretty pretend boyfriend screwed up Plan B. That was to fatten you up to the point of humiliation, then humiliate your fat ass so hard you’d never think of showing your face in public. And definitely not at the Daytona International Speedway.”

Maisy trembled. They knew she realised. Just like Bethany had said. They knew from the very beginning.

“But alas, pretty boy got the wrong ideas in his head,” Annie spat. “He nearly gave the game away. So the Commissioner decided we had to switch to Plan C. Fatten you up even more, to the point of no return. Make you so big and fat you couldn’t even walk through a doorway. So fat, you can’t even get out of a rocking chair.”   

It took a while for it to dawn on Maisy. At first, she was convinced that it wasn’t true. She planted her feet on the floor and tried to stand up. She blanched as she felt herself rock back. She rolled forward and tried again. Her legs, weak and achy, couldn’t aid her rise. She breathed in and strained, her belly jiggling. She was stuck tight.

“How could you…hnnghh…how could you do this to me?”

 Maisy pushed uselessly against her armrests. She had to feel for the wood between her rolls of fat, too thick for her to look over and see just how tightly she was stuck. Her oppressor pressed in close to her ear.

“Believe me Hannah, it could have been so much worse,” Annie cooed. “Plan A was to involve you in an accident. A tragic fall from the stands onto the racecourse, maybe, or a headlong crash – I know Slick Mick would have been happy to oblige.”

“You – you’re in league with that loser…”

“Yeah. Unfortunately.” she grimaced. “He’s been with us just since before you poked your nose into our little business deal.”

The television flashed with a bolt of green and the number 12, and on cue Mick graced the screen.

 “Heh. He has more DUIs than false teeth, and by that I mean a lot. He has more chicks who dig him than wins in races, and by that I mean none,” said Annie. “But we were going to make him a champion that day at the Daytona 500, against the odds. To the benefit of everybody except the bookies…”

Annie leant in close to Maisy’s ear.

“But those assholes laughed all the way to the bank,” she hissed. “Mick Ovett didn’t race, and we didn’t get our money back. Your little run-around cost us twenty million dollars. You better be happy. You should be a skid mark on the A1A. Instead, you’re in the lap of luxury, stuffing your fat face.”

 She seized a handful of popcorn and crammed it into Maisy’s gaping mouth. Maisy wobbled her arms and tried to push her hand off her lips. Annie was too strong.

“So that’s how we can do this to you, Hannah.” she said. “A vengeance wish and a few wads of cold, hard, dirty cash.”

 Her lungs aching, Maisy was forced to gulp down the popcorn. Annie stuck a thumb in her thick double chin and pressed till she opened up. She stuffed another fistful of popcorn in Maisy’s mouth, then let go with a twisted smile.

“Though honestly, for the most part you’ve been doing this to yourself. We barely even needed the weight gain stimulants I snuck into your hot chocolate last night – pretty soon you’d have pigged out to five hundred pounds anyway, greedy little pig that you are.”  

 She gave her wide belly a big slap. Maisy desperately wanted to give her one back, to the face. She threw herself forward, struggling to lift an arm. Annie took a slow step to the left, chuckling as the blow drifted way past her, and laughing as Maisy tipped backwards in the rocking chair, jiggling and cursing. Her fat bunched as she rolled back and forth.

“Stupid…bitch…”

Annie only laughed. Maisy wiped the sweat off her brow then let her arms collapse. Her furious struggle had done little more than make her breathless. She closed her eyes, seething while she continued to rock.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot,” Annie said, when the rocking had stopped. “I don’t think you’ll have much more use for this.”

She whipped Maisy’s phone out of her handbag.

“I’m surprised you still do, seeing how fat your fingers have gotten.”

She left the room and laid it on the counter in the kitchen. Maisy heard two sharp smacks as she smashed it with a rolling pin. She came back into the living room, smiling at the cracked up screen. She nudged a finger into the exposed circuitry and prised out a strange black widget, no bigger than a nickel.

“This is a bug, since you clearly haven’t been aware,” Annie said with a sly smirk. “We heard all of the little conversation you had just then. Your friend’s really smart. She only got one thing wrong. Anne Gretel really is my name. I’ve just been playing the part of the witch.”

“No fucking kidding.” Maisy shouted. Annie offered another sickly smile. She dropped the shattered phone pieces back into her handbag, then tossed the bag to the far corner of the room, letting the contents fall across the floor.

“Yeah, it’s too bad we’ll have to deal with Bethany. Maybe we could make her Gretel, on pain of death. Somebody else needs to bring you your food, after all. It’s tough work, keeping your fat belly satisfied.”  

 Maisy bared her teeth. The thought of Bethany falling into the Trafficone’s clutches sent a spike of determination coursing through her. She thrust herself against her wicker restraint. Her fat flailed. It was still no use. 

“Would you like a hot dog, Hannah pumpkin?” Annie chuckled.

“Stop…hnggnnhh…calling me that…”

Maisy lay back, gasping and rocking. Her belly grumbled. Annie smiled.

“Of course you would. I’ll fix some up for you.”

She turned the volume up on the television till it was blaringly loud and left the remote on the coffee table, just out of Maisy’s reach.

“Enjoy the race, pig.”

 She walked back to the kitchen. Maisy heard the sound of more clattering pans and the fridge door opening.

“Maybe next month, we could watch the Cheer America championships and reminisce,” Annie shouted over the noise of the announcers.  “Think about how you should be there competing, except for the teensy-weensy little detail that you’ll be too fucking fat to leave the house!”

Maisy watched the silver car logo materialise on the television screen.

‘DAYTONA 500, THE GREAT AMERICAN RACE’ it read. ‘NASCAR ON FOX’.

She kicked and swore and swore and kicked, and succeeded only in spilling caramel-slathered popcorn all over herself.

 She closed her eyes. Her humiliation was complete. She was beaten, trapped, and without a hope. Maisy buried her pudgy face in her hands, just as Slick Mick’s pockmarked mug flashed on the screen again. She felt him sneering at her, chuckling. The whole year that had passed since she’d heard him on the radio had been scripted, and executed almost perfectly without her ever catching on. How had she been so naïve?  

 She had become so massively overweight. She wished she’d done something sooner. Not all of it had simply snuck up on her, like the last hundred pounds. Maisy cursed. How could she have let herself get like this, and do nothing to fight it? She was fit, toned and spritely once.

And now I’m too fat to leave the house

 Maisy kicked her useless legs and swore again at her bare, fatty flesh. But then, she realised something. She was fat. Yes, she was enormously fat. But the cheerleading competition was still next week. Annie had hinted that she wasn’t too fat yet.  

 She remembered about the tabs on her. They’d probably seen her every tiresome move. Maybe she wasn’t too fat. It meant however miniscule, there was still at least a chance of her escaping by herself. With new belief Maisy thrust herself forward. Once more, her bulging tummy put a stop to her getting free of the tight chair.

There has to be another way she told herself. Then she realised there literally was.

 She waited till the chair had steadied again, and then began to bob side to side. The wood creaked. Maisy stretched out her arms, the fat wobbling. She felt the curved bands at the bottom rise on her left. Then clenching her teeth, she hurled herself leftward.

 The walls raced up around her as she tipped over. The screaming of tyres on track beamed from the highlight reel on the TV covered up the noise of her fall, and the snap of the armrest as Maisy landed her full weight upon it. She pushed the broken chair off herself slowly and lay low, watching Annie’s shadow in the doorway.

 With a puff of bated breath she blew her hair out of her eyes. She saw Annie leaning over the grill. The sausages were still cooking – though they wouldn’t be cooking for much longer. Licking her lips, Maisy repeated the feat she’d performed after rolling out of bed – pushing her hands down, easing a knee up into her drooping belly, resting on it, then using a shelf to aid her rise back to two feet again. Her legs quivered as she took gentle steps to the door, gawping at just how exhausted getting up had made her feel. 

 The soft carpet muffled the sound of her heavy footfalls. Soon she was at the kitchen doorframe. She peered across the crack in the door and saw Annie, flipping sausages. Maisy stepped in. Anne Gretel chose that moment to turn around. She stared dumbstruck at the colossal blonde filling up the doorway.

 Before anyone could say anything, Maisy charged. She couldn’t think of anything else. Her wobbly legs lifted her three booming paces, then her belly collided against Annie with a scintillating thud. The tattooed woman flew backwards. The sausages flew through the air. The plate crashed, and Annie’s head struck the side of the oven. She slumped on the kitchen floor, out cold.

 Maisy balked, shocked that she was standing over her nemesis. She desperately wanted to say something cool, but knew now wasn’t the time to think. She had to escape Eldora.

 She grabbed back her handbag and fumbled for a pair of slippers from the shoe rack. She pulled the door open, took a big breath of fresh air, turned to the side and squeezed her massive stomach out of the house.

 The cheerleader’s journey began with a single step, and it already left her feeling drained. She threw her legs forward into a shaky, waddling run. A body that once had jogged her all the way to Ponce de Leon Lighthouse and back was soon screaming for rest. Maisy’s bouncing boobs began to hurt. Soon she was reduced to a plodding stride, but she powered on out of the street. She gripped her bedsheet tight. The bus stop was in sight. She could only pray that the driver wasn’t a story character too.

 Suddenly, she heard the rumble of an engine drawing close. A cop car pulled up next to her. A window wound down.

“Is there a problem, Ma’am?” the driver asked her.

“No.” Maisy gasped, keeping her head forward. “Just out for a morning jog…”

The car followed her slowly, no faster than one mile per hour.

“Well, we admire your drive to keep fit, but I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us,” the driver said. “This is a residential area, and you’re improperly clothed.”

“It’s fine…I’m wearing panties, I swear…ugghhh…” Maisy said, glancing down at herself as she continued her run. She out her sheet with one hand, grabbed her waving belly with the other and lifted it up to show the blue material. “Here, see. Look. Panties….god….”

“Ma’am, please stop jogging and get in the car. You don’t want to face an arrest for indecent exposure.”

 Maisy ignored the cop. She left the kerb and ploughed across the road. The car slipped into second gear and cut in front of her, blocking her path to the sidewalk.

“Or for jaywalking,” the driver added. “Though it’s a little too late now.”

 Maisy glared at his thick black moustache and his sunglasses. His bald partner opened the door on the other side and unclipped some handcuffs from his belt.

“But I’m crossing mid-block. That’s not an offence. Not in Florida.” she protested. The last thing she needed after escaping Annie’s house was to be put in a holding cell.  

“Whatever, Maisy.” the bald cop said, walking up to her. “You don’t write the rules round here.”

Maisy took a step back.

“How do you know my name’s Maisy?” 

The bald man blanked her. Behind him, the one in the sunglasses raised his eyebrows.

“You’re not real officers.” Maisy realised. “You’re with them.”

The sunglasses cop put a walkie talkie receiver to his mouth and whispered something. Maisy caught the word ‘Commissioner.’

 She tried desperately to run away. Her belly slapped her legs as she turned, nearly losing her balance. The bald cop reached in his holster and drew a taser. He aimed for her back.

 Then suddenly, he dropped his weapon and dived onto his partner through the front seat. There was a roaring howl as a four-door pickup truck swallowed up the spot where he’d been standing and smashed straight into the cop car. Maisy hit the deck. The car spun out of control, up the kerb, crunching into a lamppost. A puff of black smoke seeped from the bonnet.

Maisy spluttered. A wave of pressure pounded her chest as her fat scraped on the sidewalk. She felt like she was going to vomit. She heard a door click open.

“Maisy!” shouted Zack. He grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet. Maisy was dazed as she felt his course hands brush the grit and gravel off her belly. She looked at him, hugged him, and gave him a long, deep kiss.

“You came back,” she mumbled through his lips. “You saved me.”

“Almost. Not yet. We have to go,” Zack said as they pulled away. “They’ve got people all over us, and they know what we’re doing. Hurry, get in the truck.”

He opened the rear door and helped push her in. Maisy noticed that he was sporting a black eye, and bruises on his knuckles.

“You’re hurt…” she said. Her ass spread across the leather seat.

“Yeah, I got in a fight,” Zack said, giving her a push. “Me and some ex-friends had a disagreement. But don’t worry,” He winked. “I won.”

Maisy flopped to one side as she crammed the rest of her body into the vehicle. She squirmed to right herself. Zack dashed around to the front seat, reversed from the scene of the collision, then powered down the road, hitting a hundred miles per hour. Maisy lay down, trying her best not to roll off the seat into the footwell.  

“Where are we going?” she yelled over the noise of the accelerator. The truck hit a bump and her body briefly turned to jelly.

“To Daytona!” Zack yelled. “We’ve got a party to crash!”  

He switched gear, then stretched his arm back. Looking ahead, he gave her hand a nervous squeeze as they zoomed over the bridge on River Halifax. Maisy held on tight.

 

Miles away, the moustachioed cop spilled out of his totalled vehicle. His broken sunglasses fell from his face. He thumbed his broken nose and grunted in pain, before fumbling for his radio. Outside his partner had found his feet, but not the better part of his eyesight. Blood continued to pool over his eyes as he treated the gash on his forehead. He swore viciously.

“Commissioner,” the cop grumbled when he found the black receiver. “Hansel is out the cage. I repeat, Hansel is out the cage.”

There was a pause.

“Switch to Plan D.” an icy voice replied.

The cop nervously signed off, and changed the radio frequency.

“Calling all available associates. Plan D is in force. Plan D is in force. D for Daytona. We’ve got a Daytona 5-0-0”

He coughed blood.

“I repeat, Daytona 5-0-0.”

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 The drive to the speedway was wild. Maisy felt every bump and bend as they tore down Route 92. Unable to belt up over her huge hips, she wrapped the seatbelt round her wrist and clung on for dear life. Her stomach sloshed, and her wire-thin bikini strips puckered and pinched. Maisy seized a glob of her massive breasts to stop them rolling free. Eventually the truck began to slow. Maisy craned her neck to the window to see they’d reached the speedway. Zack found a spot in one of the parking lots and pulled the key out of the ignition.

“Made it!” he said, smiling his dazed and dizzy girlfriend in the back seat. He looked cautiously through the rear window, eyeing the turnstiles at the gateway, and the boxes with the security staff.

“Ughh…” groaned Maisy. “Now what?”

“We won’t be able to get past those guys without a ticket. Isn’t there someone inside you know who could get us in?”

“Umm…yeah. Her name’s Beth.” said Maisy, still dazed. She picked up her bag from the footwell, pawed around inside, and groaned again as the memory returned. “Damn it, have you got a phone?”

 Zack handed over his Blackberry and Maisy quickly punched in Beth’s number.

“Yeah, I’m here. Come quickly.”

 Beth said she’d be there as soon as and ended the call. Zack left the truck and opened the back door. Maisy blinked in the light.

“You ready?”

She nodded with a sigh. Zack took hold of Maisy’s arm and tugged while she kicked, bringing her to the door. It was a slow, straining process for both of them. Maisy rolled slowly out of the truck, sticking out a leg, then an arm, then the swell of the reddened side of her massive, heavy body. She blinked again, looking down the parking lot, as a lithe brunette came into view.

“Maisy!” Bethany yelled. “Oh my god!”

She helped Zack heave her free of the vehicle. Maisy cringed as she felt hands sink into her thighs, love handles, then shoulders. Zack and Beth held her steady as she planted her feet, letting out a deep puff of breath.

 Beth pulled her into a hug. Maisy nearly teared up in happiness at seeing her again until she felt the press on her chest. Her friend couldn’t get her arms around her back any more, though she was trying hard.

“Maisy…wow, you’re so…”

“Fat?” Maisy offered, smirking through the embarrassment.  

“I was gonna say squishy.”

Maisy laughed, and Beth laughed with her.

“It’s amazing you got out of there, I was so worried!”

“Me too – I’m so glad you called when you did. They were gonna keep me forever…”

“I’m so glad you finally picked up! I barely believed it was you, your voice has changed.”

“It has?” said Maisy. She caressed her fat-coated neck and chin, realising her tones were quite a bit deeper. “Huh. Oh.”

“Seriously, me, your parents, your teachers, we’ve been calling all year to check on you. Nobody got through, there must have been some sort of giant signal jammer.”

“There was,” said Zack. “That was before I drove into it yesterday. Spent the night dodging the heat while they combed the beach to find me. Then I stole the truck and got her here.”

Bethany leapt at Zack, embracing him in another fierce hug.

“Thank you sooo much!”

“Hey hey, we’re not out of the woods yet,” he chuckled. “The Trafficones are on the hunt. They’ll be sending their hitmen here any minute. We’ve got to hide Maisy. Is there anywhere we can keep her safe?”

Beth glanced at Maisy’s body and bit her lip.

“I don’t know. The Velocitorium’s full of people, so we won’t get her anywhere in there. There’s store cupboards but…I don’t think she’ll fit…”

 A few more sizeable spots came to Maisy’s mind, but the battle was getting there. She knew some were too far away for her thunderous, flabby thighs to carry her. Others meant passing security guards, which in her semi-naked state would be an impossibility. And a lethal risk – if Eldora was full of Trafficone goons, why not their money spinner at the Daytona International Speedway? She wasn’t sure where the mob’s script ended, and real life begun.

“Think. Is there any other place you could go?” Bethany asked Maisy. “I’ve read what these guys are capable of – and honestly, I’m not saying this to hurt your feelings, but they’ll see you from a mile away.”

“But I want to help,” said Maisy. After cold clocking Annie and watching her boyfriend total a cop car she felt pumped. “I don’t want to go. I wanna fight!”

She stamped her foot and clenched her little fists. She let out an annoyed grunt when her wobbly left leg clapped into her right, sending a ripple through her thigh. Maisy furiously grabbed her hanging belly to stop it joining in. She felt Zack and Beth’s eyes on her and with them the painful truth. She was facing down a criminal group with untold amounts of money and firepower, and she weighed five hundred pounds – very little of it muscle. Maisy felt her nerve rescind.

I can fight…but if I were a Pokémon, I’d be Magikarp… she pondered wistfully. She felt her tummy rumble. No wait – maybe Snorlax.

 Her tummy groaned some more, and somehow it rekindled her fury. She wasn’t just hungry for more food. She was hungry for revenge on the people who did this to her. They’d taken her cheerleading figure through a hall of mirrors. She’d worked for a set of washboard abs her whole college life, just to have them traded for a belly that felt like a beach ball loaded with vanilla pudding.  All those squats, jumps, jogs and spinning sessions gave her a figure that could have basked with the muses of sculptors and artists. The monumental fatass the mob had erupted from within her had crushed more than just chairs. It had crushed her pride, her position, and most of all, her mercy.

Maisy wanted payback.

“No. I’m not running any more,” she decided. “Running away was what started all this. And I’m not leaving you guys here. No way. We’re stopping the Trafficones together. We’re wrecking their race, starting right now.”

“Maisy – it started like two hours ago.” said Beth.

“Huh?”

“Shit,” said Zack. “Less time than I thought. It’s ok – it doesn’t usually finish for another hour at least. All’s we have to do is stop Slick Mick from finishing first.”

“Oh my god, you mean they’re trying to rig it for him again?” Beth said. “Let’s go to the officials. Tell them what’s happening.”

“No,” said Zack. “I heard some of them are in on the fix – I just don’t know which. It’ll be too dangerous. We’ve got to stop the race ourselves. We’ve got to get us in there, then find a way.”

Beth had her arms crossed. Her eyes were wandering.

“Wait…I’ve just thought of something,” she said. “Wait right there!”

 She pelted off back to the barrier in front of the entrance, flashed her employee badge to the ticket staff, then ran inside. Maisy was flummoxed. She was even more bemused when Beth returned, stumbling back through the barrier again carrying a colossal brown plush toy. As she stumbled nearer Maisy realised it was wearing racing goggles, and a neckerchief in the colors of a race flag. She then realised it wasn’t a toy, but a mascot costume. When Beth dropped it by her feet, catching her breath, she saw whose costume it was.

“Is that Digger from FOX?” Maisy asked.

“Yeah,” said Beth. She wiped her brow, bent over the suit and unzipped it down the back. “It’s who you’re going to be today.”

“You can’t be fucking serious,” said Maisy, flinching. “I’m not wearing that thing. No way. That is worse than Eldora.”

“No – it’s great,” said Zack. “You’ll be hidden. It’s the last place any self-respecting mobster would think of looking.”

“We’ll just pretend we’re going to a kid’s birthday party. Security won’t ask. Plus it’s the only thing I can find for you to wear,” said Beth. “For now…sorry…”

 Maisy became aware of her near-total nakedness again. The droops, curves and bulges of her plump flesh were nearly all plain for all to see.

“Okay, fine…” she groaned. She slipped her chubby toes into the giant gopher’s fleecy feet. Beth helped pull the costume over her body while Zack zipped it up at the back. Maisy shoved her arms through her cotton twill equivalents. She pulled a face when she saw her costume’s right hand was moulded into a permanent thumbs-up. Bethany helped brush her tumbling blonde hair down into the neck.

“And for the finishing touch…”

 She picked up Digger’s bulbous, grinning head. Maisy shrunk down as she fixed it over her own. Her world grew dark, but then she found the light through a meshy space beneath the gopher’s buck teeth.      

“Are you ok in there?” Beth asked her. “How are you feeling, Digger?”

“Like digging a hole and never coming out again.” Maisy said, bluntly. Her oversized head muffled her voice.  

“That’s the spirit!” Beth smiled. She turned to Zack.  “Come on, let’s get inside.”

 Maisy was soon left behind as her friends sprinted away. Swinging her legs, she could only manage a hefty, thigh-slapping tumble of a jog, which soon slowed to a thudding plod. The hot and heavy suit wasn’t helping matters, sealing her breaths, itching her curves, and after little more than ten strides, pooling her sweat.

“Guys…nghhh…wait up!” shouted Maisy. Beth mumbled a quick apology as she and Zack doubled back, took her arm in arm and rushed her to the gated entranceway. Maisy eyed the barriers nervously, but she got through the security staff easy enough. They opened up the concessions barrier, and Beth gave them thanks.

 Zack however, was pushed back and asked for a ticket. Maisy bit her lip. With a black eye and bloody knuckles, her boyfriend didn’t look a likely candidate for a guest at a kid’s party.

“I’ll find another way in,” he whispered to Maisy as he backed away. “I won’t leave you again, I promise.”

 Maisy nodded, feeling her nerves creep up again as she passed the doors to the entrance. Looking around, she saw she was almost alone. The lobby was practically deserted – everyone was in the stands, watching the race.

“Well, now what?” she said.

“They’re nearly on the hundred and fiftieth lap,” said Bethany, watching one of the television screens mounted on the wall. Mick was leading the pack. “There’s still time. He won’t win if he has an accident.”

Maisy looked up at the screen. While the other cars were tightly bunched together in the leading pack, Mick had more room to manoeuvre. Him crashing his number 12 didn’t look likely. Maisy soon saw as the camera panned across the front that he was being protected from the back and sides by other drivers.

They’re probably in on the scam Maisy decided.

“We’ve got to get rid of those guys,” she told Beth. “They’re helping him win. Is there anything we can do to get them off the track?”

“I’ve got it,” Beth said. “Get them when they’re off the track. Quick, follow me.”

 Maisy bumbled after her in the direction of the food court. Beth got her keychain out of her pocket and opened the back door of the hot dog stand.

“We give them hot dogs. Free hot dogs from Digger, for everyone in the pits. They’ve been going three hours without a break, they won’t turn them down.” she whispered in a rush. “Except we undercook them. The bad guys get bad stomachs, they lose focus, Mick loses the race.”

“How many hot dogs do we have?” Maisy asked. Leaving the keychain in the door, Beth slipped inside and turned on the lights. Maisy stayed behind the door – in her gopher suit she was simply too wide for the doorway.

“Enough,” said Beth. “If we’re cooking most of them halfway we can do this in twenty minutes on the big grill. Get down there in five, say they start feeling it after another quarter hour, and then they’ve got ten minutes to spew the race away.”

 Beth flicked on the ovens. Maisy sniffed a waft of cooked deliciousness as the little kitchen warmed up. She turned back to try and find out which lap the racers were on.

Then she saw Jojo.

 She knew that the bespectacled, suited guard who’d once stood watch outside her hospital door was one of the mobsters, even before she saw him press a finger to his ear, and whisper something to his fellow. She was rooted to the spot as they broke into a run, lumbering in the direction of the hot dog stand.

Maisy stretched out an arm and slammed the metal back door shut. Without a word she twisted the key to lock it, and lackadaisically she threw it behind her.

Her eyes were glued to the mobsters. Their fists were tight. Their faces were full of malice as they barged through the crowd.

“Move it.” one of them hissed as he shunted her shoulder. She careened backwards into the other one, just as he swept past her. Maisy bumped back on the door. She bent forward, her costumed head wobbling, and only just managed to stay on her feet as they rushed past the hot dog stand for the door to the main building. It clattered shut. She heard their footsteps die away.   

 Maisy breathed out a sigh of relief. She wondered what they’d heard that’d made them run so fast. Then she saw it on a television screen.

 The commentators were going crazy, and for a moment, she thought she was too. A red pickup truck had broken through the barrier having driven full throttle out of Richard Petty Boulevard. Already it had clattered into two cars, and it was wreaking havoc as it worked its way into the leading pack.

“Zack!” Maisy gasped. “Oh my god, Beth, it’s Zack. He’s on the speedway!”

She pulled the metal door then remembered she’d locked it.

“No way. Seriously?”

Beth pushed on the handle from the other side. Maisy searched for the key on the ground. She waddled back a little.

On the floor, a few feet away, she saw a grid cover.

“Oh no!” Maisy shouted. She looked desperately around the spot. She saw nothing more than discarded trash, billowing in the breeze. Beth cranked the handle.

“Maisy, are you there?” she yelled.

“Yeah…Beth – I locked you in. We were in danger, I’m so sorry.”

“You dropped the keys down a drain, didn’t you?”

“Uhh…yeah…nice guess…”

“I thought I heard something fall. Listen to me Maisy. Just go, ok? I’ll be safe. I’ll be okay in here. Don’t focus on getting me out of here yet – just stop the race. You and Zack. Right?”

Maisy tried one last push on the handle. She cursed her luck.

“Okay.” she said, her voice pained. She looked back at the television screen. A squad of safety cars sped off to take control of the race, but their authority was being ignored. Drivers all around were taking the opportunity to make a quick trip to the pits. A pack of six broke away from the mayhem, and amongst them Maisy caught a glimpse of Slick Mick Ovett’s green and purple bonnet.

 

“Tell me what the fuck is going on out there.” Mick spat down his microphone headset as he raced for the front stretch.

“Keep going, champ. The dream’s still alive!” his crew chief replied.

“I jus’saw half the field hit the pits, for crying out loud. N’ half the other half got blown away that last corner – you’re sure they’re not stopping the race?”

“Relax Mick. We won’t let them.”

“Someone better stop that there pickup truck. What pills is that guy on?”

“Don’t think about him, Mick. The safety cars are keeping him busy. Just stay out of his way. His top speed’s what, one hundred thirty tops? You’re one ninety. Keep on cruisin’.”

“Fine. But tell Lebowski to box that son of a bitch.”

Snatching the space on the inside lane, Mick hit the gas.

“Jesus Christ sweet mother of mercy…” he murmured.

 He looked to the road ahead. The truck was drifting wildly up a corner, the wheels raking the track as it turned one hundred and eighty degrees. Mick could almost hear the engine scream as it tore off in his direction.

“What in tarnation!?” he yelled.

Amidst the carnage and chaos, and the howl of the pickup truck as it ripped the wrong way down the back stretch, not one person in the crowd saw a giant gopher waddle across the track.

 

 Maisy was gasping and cramping, but she was soon back in safe territory. She had reached the Fanzone, in the center of the track.  

 Slick Mick’s number – 12 – was imprinted on her mind. She knew she had to find his garage and do something, anything, to throw a spanner in the works. If he couldn’t finish the race, all was lost for the Trafficones. She looked out for his pit crew, but couldn’t help but stop with the rest of the gawping crowd as Zack sped towards Mick. It was Mick who broke first – his car slid off the track, gouging out a dirty stripe in the grass as he forced it back on. Maisy felt butterflies creep into her stomach watching Zack turn around again and power back into the fray.

 She soon realised that he couldn’t keep up with Mick’s car. She had to do something to help. The garages were close by, but they were chock full of people, and they wouldn’t be in use while the race was in progress. If Maisy wanted to catch Mick, she’d have to do it at the pit stop.

 She waddled past the crowds of gawping people, thankful that they weren’t gawping at her but at the pandemonium on the speedway. The track was a ribbon of ruins, and the pits themselves looked like a bomb site – drivers were limping in with cars streaked with destruction.

 Maisy spied a heavy duty monkey wrench abandoned the floor. She picked it up with her left glove, as she couldn’t tear her fingers free of the wacky thumbs up on her right. It was heavy, but she felt it’d be handy to have. If she could just get one solid hit on Mick’s bonnet or his windshield, he might be out of action long enough to gift someone else the race win.  

 The case of getting to Mick’s car was a different matter. The pits were a hive of danger – sparks flew, and shards of twisted metal peppered the asphalt. Maisy knew this was no place for a five-hundred pound girl in a bulky and potentially flammable all-in-one. There had to be a different way to Mick’s car, when it arrived.

 Maisy looked at the stand that watched over the pit road. Again it was loaded with people, but it had a prime vantage point over the spot Mick would inevitably have to pass once his pit crew had finished their work. More sweat poured from between her rolls as she ascended the stairs, choking and straining. She pushed past the fans that lined the barrier – her path was impeded by a couple that put their arms around her.

“Selfie!” one of them smiled, trying to capture her fluffy head on one side and the chaos on the track in the other.

 Maisy tried her best to ease her way through, shimmying and squeezing, bumping some of the bigger folks with her belly. She glanced around and saw that Mick was slowing down. Zack had damaged his car enough to warrant an emergency pit stop. She eased her wide legs back into motion, waddling to the end of the stand. If she could throw her spanner at his bonnet as he was leaving, he’d need to go back in to the pits for a damage review. He’d lose precious seconds, and at this late stage, maybe the Harley J. Earl Trophy too.

 Maisy nudged herself into a free space right at the edge and watched an irksome Slick Mick get a tyre change, a refuel, and some hasty repairs on his bodywork. She knew she only had one shot, and that her chances were slim.  

 The last new tyre was riveted in. Maisy heard the roar of Mick’s engine. Someone hurriedly eased down the jack under the chassis. She leaned on the barrier, eyes on his front tyre, raising her left arm behind her. It was heavy and weak, bowing under the weight of the wrench. She needed to be closer. Mick began to pull away. She pushed up more to the barrier, then heard the metal groan.

Maisy lurched forward as it bent, then broke its rusty rivets. She squealed as she fell clean off the stands.

 She struck the roof of Mick’s car belly first with an ear-splitting thwack. Digger’s head tumbled off her and hit the asphalt. The fans on the platform gasped. She groaned, stirred, then wiggled her fingers and toes. Her body ached, but the only thing she’d broken was Mick’s roof flap. The thick suit and her blubbery fat, it seemed, had cushioned her fall.

 She saw flashing lights from above, as a hundred people around her grabbed their phones and took a picture of her, limply spread-eagled on the top of the leading vehicle. She turned her head and pushed her chubby cheek into the top of the windscreen. Maisy she opened her eyes wide and looked at Mick, slack-jawed in the driver’s seat. He hissed a ferocious string of expletives through his helmet, then tugged at his window net.

 It didn’t move. He put both hands on it, tore at it, then kicked it. But Maisy had buckled the roof so far in that the window was unusable as an exit. Without any doors, Slick Mick was stuck in his car.

“No!” he screamed. He watched his opponents zoom by on the track ahead. His pit crew stood motionless, disbelieving. “NOOO!”

 Maisy smiled down through her dishevelled golden mop of hair.

“Hehhe. Karma, huh? Guess you shouldn’t have made me so fat.”

 She pursed her lips and blew him a kiss. Mick snarled, and snatched at the stick shift. The cheerleader yelped as the car juddered back into gear, taking off with her still wobbling on the roof, reaching ten, twenty, thirty miles per hour out of the pit road. He turned wildly onto the tri-oval to re-join the race. Maisy slipped off the roof with a scream, plunging onto the track as Mick sped away to chase the pack.

 Stunned, Maisy felt herself sliding, rolling in her suit down from the 31-degree angled corner. The Digger suit left her stuck on her back, like a turtle. She kicked and strained, but she could barely lift her shoulders. There was no getting up from this one. Not without help.

 But Bethany was still trapped in the food court, and Zack was tearing up the track in his truck all the way at the other end of the oval. Maisy’s eyes traced the route, and she caught sight of a lone Chevrolet Camarro one the back stretch. It was speeding right towards her.

 She fumbled for the suit zipper. She could feel it digging into her ass, but she couldn’t squeeze an arm down to reach it. Maisy tried desperately to roll a little more. She bucked her hips, shook her shoulders, but she couldn’t shift her frame. The car was accelerating as it pulled closer and closer. She squealed, whimpering.

 A hundred feet away, someone slammed the brakes. The car skidded, pulling sideways, coming to a halt just yards from her position. The door clicked open, and a set of colored lights flashed from the rooftop. Maisy sighed, delirious. It was a safety car.

 The floodlights over the catching nets beamed above her as she felt someone lift her legs, and she felt the rush of adrenaline evaporate from her mind. The heat and exhaustion returned in rising waves. Maisy felt her back ache, her head throb, and her soft chest get fearsomely tight. Slowly, she slipped out of consciousness.

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 The race was postponed at last, while another safety car rolled out to take command over the rest of the drivers. Despite their urging Slick Mick refused to leave his busted vehicle. He tore out of the speedway, and when the cops finally hunted him down after he ran out of fuel in Holly Hill, he boiled over. On the way to his cell he told them everything, how the Trafficones had rigged the races, how they’d betrayed him, how they’d let ‘that fat blonde bitch’ take his happily ever after away. He’d get a slightly reduced sentence for informing, though the judge at his trial would say his non-stop ranting was almost worth a sentence in itself. He soon found it was even less appreciated when he settled into his new home, at Tomoka State Prison. 

 Maisy meanwhile found herself back in the Florida Hospital Memorial Medical Center, in the very same bed she’d occupied when she broke her ankle. She filled up a lot more of it this time, to the surprise of the nurses who remembered her, and even more of it the following morning, much to their alarm. The next day they brought her to the scale, and they established that something was wrong.

 Maisy couldn’t bear to look at the numbers. But she knew she was still gaining rapid, obscene amounts of weight, day by day. She noticed she was coming close to overflowing her bed’s edges when she flopped back down on it again. She tried to take her mind away through books and television, but even that began to grow harder. She was growing so fat her vision was narrowing, as her cheeks softly pushed on her nose.

 She knew without wanting to test it when the day had come that she was unable to get out of bed. The cheerleader felt turgid, bloated and immovable. She wanted to spare herself the humiliation by not trying at all; but when her bed became ‘her beds’, it came anyway. Maisy was scared for herself when a doctor told her the extent of the situation.

“You’re going to need to be taken to a different ward. It’s a necessity, but we’re confident it’s just a temporary measure. You’ve put on more weight than we thought possible in your current circumstances. It’s merely a reassessment…we’ve underestimated your case…”

Maisy sighed and wheezed. She was staring at the ceiling. Her breasts strained her gown as she wiggled them, as she tried to see the man through the canyon of her cleavage.

“Fine…”she puffed. “Just…do…whatever...do… something about this…nnghhh. Oh god…”

She was wheeled away, and a second bed was pressed against the first for her to lie on. She shut her eyes as a team of orderlies hefted and pushed her body halfway between the two. For half an hour she was poked and prodded, but after more scans and checks, an antidote was sourced to counter the myriad of concentrates in the pills the mob had been feeding her over the last two weeks – a vast amount was traced to her most recent meal of pancakes and syrup. The substance was rushed through the approval stages, and given to her through a teaspoon the next morning. With her stupendous weight gain finally put to a stop, the doctors judiciously worked Maisy’s weight back down to a little below what it was when she’d checked in the week before. As swiftly as the pancake drugs were shifted, so too were the pounds they’d piled onto her figure. Maisy was delighted. She was utterly gigantic, but at least she was now finally shedding some weight.

 Zack came to visit her the day she made it back to four-hundred and fifty pounds, under police protection. The cop at his left, a man with a flat nose and bullish shoulders, asked Maisy if she knew ‘this gentleman’. She nodded, her chins creasing. Unblinking, they let go of Zack’s shoulders.

“Don’t worry, those ones are the good guys,” he said, smiling, as they left them alone to stand guard outside the door. “They’re not forgiving me for what I did on Sunday though. I was wondering if you would…”

“Huh?” said Maisy.

“If you would forgive me,” He ran a hand through his hair. “For everything. The whole reason you’re here, the reason you’re…like this…it’s all my fault. They were telling me what to do right from the very beginning. Right from when we met. The whole thing that went down at the waterpark – that was all staged and I was a big part of it, even though I really didn’t wanna be. I wouldn’t be surprised if you never wanted to see me again. I just came to say…I’m sorry.”

Maisy looked at him. She put her hand in his, then walked her fingers up the zipper of his bomber jacket. Then she grabbed it tight, and pulled him in for another long kiss.

“Of course I forgive you, silly,” she said, giving him a gentle shove. He smiled goofily. “You saved me. And you were amazing out there. You told them, didn’t you? You told them you did it to stop the Trafficones?”

“Yeah, I did. But it hasn’t cleaned my slate…in fact it might have made it worse. That truck we were in…isn’t actually mine. It was fenced, then the Trafficones gave to me. And I’m not even allowed to drive in the first place, let alone drive a truck at the biggest NASCAR rally of the season…hitting all those cars – somebody’s gotta be responsible, you know…”

“But it was awesome, right?” said Maisy.

“Hell yes.” Zack grinned.

“And they’ll never be able to take it away from you.”

“That’s true.” he nodded.

“Where’d you learn to drive like that?”

He blushed.

“Err…I watched a lot of Dukes of Hazzard growing up. Let’s just say I got into re-enacting after I dropped out of high school.”

“That’s cute” said Maisy.

“Yeah, the officers stopped being charmed not long after I turned twenty-one. I got a lot of fines. The Trafficones were willing to help me out with those…that’s kinda how I got into all this shit. But for once it might be paying off, and not just because it led me to you.”

He looked to the door, then leaned in close. “Keep this a secret between you and me, but I got an email from Hendrick Motorsports this morning. They saw me on the track and they want to give me a trial in one of their cars. How cool is that?”

“That’s awesome!”

They kissed again, then heard the cop tapping on the door.

“Time to go,” Zack said, sadly. “We’ll talk soon, right?”

“Sure. Goodbye sweetie.”

“Goodbye, Maisy.”

He winked. She smiled. She noticed that for the first time, he’d used her real name.

Zack left and she reached over for a handful of M&Ms from a giant bag Bethany had left her. She stuffed a sizeable handful in her mouth and began chewing when she realised she wasn’t alone. One of the cops had come back into the room. She swallowed, a little embarrassed.

“Officer Roscoe Hartley, FBI,” he said. He stood rigid and tall as he flashed his badge, and did not make a move to shake her hand. “We’re sorry to disturb you Miss, but we have to ask that you come with us.”

Maisy crinkled her brow. She’d heard that before.

“Why?” she asked. Roscoe stiffened. He looked neither used to, nor particularly appreciative of, being questioned.

 “I have orders from the Chief. He wants a brief word with yourself and Mister Adamson.” he muttered.

“Oh,” said Maisy. “Sure. But am I okay to leave now? I was supposed to be going tomorrow.”

“We arranged your checkout downstairs. The doctors said you’re fine in our care and that you needn’t come back unless your medical issues return. Do you require any assistance?”

“I’m alright,” Maisy said. “I’m fine.”

 But upon removing her bedcover and easing off the bed she’d occupied for two weeks, Maisy soon discovered that she wasn’t quite in the best condition. She’d ceased her continuous gaining, and had fought back the effects of her drug-induced fattening after her spat with Zack at the pool. But she still had many days to go, and it showed in the hang of her belly over her thighs, and the tight pull of her gown as she wobbled her doughy legs. She’d had little stimulus for her muscles during her fourteen days cooped up in bed – step by step they’d yielded weakly to her weight. No sooner had she reached the foot of the bed than she was red faced and panting.

“Ma’am, would you like some help?” he asked again.

“No” Maisy said, huffing and puffing. “Not you. Zack. I want Zack…to help.”

 There was something in his stiffness, the metallic quality in his voice that meant Maisy did not trust Roscoe Hartley at all. He looked like he was trying too hard at his job – for that, though his badge had looked authentic, Maisy still feared he was a fraud.

 He acquiesced to her demands though. Under the eagled-eyed watch of himself and his equally droid-like partner, Zack took her hand, helped her find her slippers and guided her slowly out of her room. They organised the return of her handbag from the main desk – she’d been booked in under the name of Hannah Selles, and there she realised why her parents hadn’t come to visit her yet. They probably didn’t know she was here. 

Maisy opened the bag with a view to calling them, but saw the broken plastic parts inside and quickly remembered what had happened. She made a mental note to ask Chief Kint if she could borrow the phone once she got to the station. Quite how she’d tell her parents everything that had happened was something she put to the back of her mind.

 A second bag registered under the name of Hannah Selles was given to her, much to her puzzlement. This one was plastic, and it bore the name ‘Maisy’ on the front in felt pen. She opened it to find a brand new pair of cropped leggings, some panties, a bra, a blouse and a note from Bethany wishing her well, telling her to put them on and call her soon as possible for their long overdue shopping trip. Maisy made another mental note to call her as soon as she was finished with her parents, and asked the cops if she had time to put them on – Roscoe said quickly no, but his corporal partner gave her leave. She thanked him, found a bathroom, slipped off her hated hospital gown and eased them on. She was delighted to find that for once, she had clothes that fit her perfectly again. Maisy beamed as she left the hospital. She really did have the best, best friend in the world.

Hartley drove them the short distance to the police headquarters on Valor Boulevard.   

“Can we turn the siren on?” Zack asked.

“No.” he said, coldly.

“They did last time I was in one of these.” Zack said quietly to Maisy. “It’s so weird, hearing it on the inside.”

“Last time?” Maisy inquired with a smirk.

“Yeah, when they got me out of the pickup truck on the race course and took me to where we’re going.” said Zack.  

“Oh.”

Zack looked at her and grinned.

“Were you hoping for something you haven’t heard before? I guess I could tell you about the first time.”

“Go on” said Maisy. She liked his stories. Judging by the veins that pulsed on his neck, Hartley clearly didn’t.

“Me and my cousin and me hot-wired my uncle’s Dodge once when he was out playing poker, then we took it for a spin on the beach.” Zack began. “We wanted to get home before he knew it was gone, but these assholes caught up with us first and then…”

 Hartley yanked the handbrake with an agitated jerk, signalling the end of the tale. He switched off the ignition and got out the car. Maisy had hardly noticed the journey. She was led through one door, and Zack the other. They held hands up the steps to the police building, but were soon parted. Zack stayed on the ground floor while Maisy was lead upstairs to the Chief’s office. 

Kint welcomed her in and offered her a wide, comfy chair adjacent to his untidy desk. He offered a donut too – she declined at first, thinking about her need to lose more weight – but he left the box open by her side. Maisy ultimately failed to fight her temptation as he began to speak.

“I apologise for the mess, it’s not usually like this,” Kint began. “But then again, it’s not every day these things happen. The Trafficones are getting out of dodge. Your little escapade left their business completely ruined here. They’ll be back someday though, of that I’m sure - I’ve just been sat here the last couple weeks picking up the pieces.”

He pushed a couple of his papers together, then lit up a cigar.

“Guess I’ll be doing some of that too.” said Maisy. She knew in the weeks to come she’d have a lot of readjusting to do. She saw her face amongst the papers, peeking out of file marked with her real name. In the photo she was much slimmer; her blonde hair framed just a single chin, and cheeks that were nowhere near as chubby. Maisy sighed. That was the face everyone back home remembered her by. They too, would have a lot of readjusting to do when they saw her now.

“Oh, tell me about it. I had to replace forty guys here, just for me to feel safe again.” Kint muttered. “And let me say, I still don’t trust some of these new hires.”

“Me neither.” Maisy concurred. Kint smiled. His face was worn, but warm.

“I’m not sure what more to say, Miss Pinkerton, other than that I’m sorry. For you, and for your boyfriend. He’s going to go to jail for a very long time.”

Maisy’s head sank.

“He’s going to rot in there,” Kint continued. “You might not recognise him the next to you meet – if you ever meet again…”

Maisy began to tear up.

“There, there,” Kint said. “I know how it feels to lose everything.”

“But he was only doing it for me!” she cried out. “He wasn’t doing it for himself. It’s not fair!”

“Oh…darling…” Kint reached over and pinched her chubby cheek.

 Maisy flinched. His fingers turned claw-like as he retracted his hand. He took a long puff of his cigar, then twisted it down, and stubbed it out over her smiley face on the file paper. She saw her photo disappear into an ashen hole.  

“Let me tell you about ‘not fair’…” the cop snarled. “Putting fifty million dollars on a car that shoulda won, but didn’t. That’s not fair. Building a perfect community for my friends and family, just to watch the feds pull it all down? That’s not fair.”

 Kint’s voice had warped completely. Gone was the dulcet deep southern tone – it had fallen to a fury-stricken staccato Bronx, with scintillating flecks of an Italian accent. She had heard the disturbing voice before.

“It’s you,” said Maisy. She remembered the chill she’d felt down her spine on seeing the true Annie. But this time her blood curdled, and the hairs stood straight on the back of her neck. “You’re the Commissioner.” 

 Kint did not smile. There was no mask, no costume for him to peel away. He merely put his left hand over his right on the desk, then cracked his knuckles. Maisy was petrified. She was too frightened to even whimper.

“Marco Trafficone,” the commissioner said. “It’s been a pleasure.”

He leant over the desk and took Maisy’s shivering hand in his, then shook it.

“As evidenced by your presence here, Miss Pinkerton, you fucked up Plan D. Royally.”

She drew a breath in as he produced a standard issue pistol from the holster on his waist. He laid it on the desk, the barrel pointing at her.

“But we’re not out of options. Not at all. We are moving on to Plan E. That’s E for execution. A talent my associates have been lacking as of late.”  

He drummed the desk. Then he clenched his fists, kicked back his chair and leapt clean over the top, like an animal. Just as she was about to scream he clamped a hand over her mouth. He tipped her back in her chair. Trafficone was freakishly strong.

Maisy shouted curses into his rough fingers. His pale grey eyes settled on her feet.

“I see you’re wearing Annie’s slippers,” he said. He twisted his lips. “I bought them for her birthday, five years ago. They’ll be the only thing left once we’re finished dealing with her. And as for what’ll be left of you, well….don’t get your hopes up.”

Suddenly someone kicked the office door. It flew open. 

“Put your hands up right now, Commissioner!” Hartley yelled. He thrust the muzzle of his gun at Trafficone’s ear. The crime lord’s mouth was agape.

“Officer Hartley, what has gotten into you?” he hollered. “It’s me. It’s Kevin. Geez, put the gun down!”

“Don’t play me. You’re under arrest for assault, bribery, corruption and a truckload more.”

“But…but Roscoe…” he mumbled, feigning a smile. “You must be hearing things…”  

“Too right. We heard everything, you slimeball. We heard everything you just said, all over the radio. It’s something you should have known, using police radio frequencies – usually, the real police are listening.”

 Marco Trafficone stared blankly for a moment. Then his face turned to fire. He looked upon Maisy with a hideous snarl.

You.” he growled. “You bugged me, you little bitch! How could you…how could you even…I don’t understand!”

“You’ll have plenty of time to figure it out in your cell. On your feet.”

Roscoe put the gun between his shoulder blades and shunted him out of the office. Maisy was left shell-shocked. The other officer came into the room to make sure she was alright. Zack was allowed upstairs, and he embraced her in a hug.

It was finally over.

 

Zack had to stay in the police station for that night, but Maisy was permitted to stay with him. It turned out that the very moment Hartley was locking the key on his cell, he’d heard a voice coming from the evidence room. Upon further investigation, he found it was coming from a radio he’d seized from two mobsters impersonating cops in the Eldora township. It was still tuned to the frequency their employer had been using to listen to a vast network of bugs. One of them had apparently found its way into his office.

 Maisy wondered, then realised something. She opened her handbag, and found her phone – still smashed up, but still with the bug inside. Two weeks ago it had gotten her fat ass stuck in a rocking chair. Now it had saved her life. 

“My lucky bug.” Maisy said, smiling. She decided to keep it in her handbag.  

 Zack was released on bail over the phone by his sister, and the two of them left the police station the next day. His sentences were written off, but he was left with some eye-watering fines to pay for all the damage he wrought on the speedway. He went to work on carving out a new life in Daytona, finding an apartment to rent and a part time job in a garage, and testing on the track with Hendrick Motorsports. Maisy meanwhile started working on losing her extra poundage. It was surprisingly easy to begin with – without drugs to keep it artificially high, her weight decreased as much as three or four pounds every day. She was slowly feeling the benefits – walking to the bathroom was no longer so exhausting, and with a little effort she could fit back into clothes she’d abandoned in Eldora. Soon she no longer needed a mirror to be able to see her special larger capacity scale again – it was difficult work sucking in her belly and holding back her boobs, but she could just about read the numbers.

 Maisy hit her first goal of falling out of the four-hundred pound range, and after a lot of sweat and strain she fought her weight back under her second goal of three-sixty. Overjoyed, Maisy skipped her afternoon jog and treated herself to a cheesy pasta stir-fry. She couldn’t resist another portion the next day, and the next. After a week, pasta became a pizza meal, and a pizza meal came to include a dessert. A little became a lot, and one morning Maisy stepped on the scale and realised red-faced that she’d put thirteen pounds back on.

 She quickly learned that while her drug-induced weight was easily shifted, there was no antidote for the effects of the southern fried chicken, barbecue steak, or sumptuous muffins, save for a strict diet and regular exercise. Maisy tried to keep up with both, but for a girl of nearly four-hundred pounds, it was a struggle. Her next weigh in saw her go up another five pounds. A week later she had put on three more. Her mom offered to pay for one on one fitness coaching, her dad for hypnotherapy, but she turned them both down. Still lacking a set of workout clothes she was happy to be seen in, she was content to let her dog be her coach in the back yard – though after a year apart she first had to convince the dopey Bichon Frise that it was really her buried under so many layers of fat. They soon became the best of friends again, though even a simple game of fetch was soon leaving Maisy worn out.

 Back on the dating scene, Zack made a life a warm, wholesome breeze for a girl of her size. When she was with him she never needed to open a door, nor pull out a chair, nor put a jacket (usually his) over her shoulders. Going up the stairs, he would boost her by lifting her jiggling ass, much to her amusement. Going downstairs, he’d wrap his hands around her thick waist, cradle her belly and nuzzle into her chin, much to her pleasure. 

 During their first weekend of their spring vacation, they planned another get together at the Cheer Bowl Nationals in Houston, Texas. Their tickets were free, and they’d get the best seats in the building, all courtesy of Zack’s sister.

“She’s wanted to meet you for a while.” he told her, as they got out of the truck. They met her at the door. Maisy’s mouth hung open as she took in the little slim cheerleader with long, raven hair.

“Serena?” she said, gasping. She looked at Zack. “You’re…siblings?!”

“Yeah…we’ve got the same mom,” Serena said. She was a little tearful. “The Commissioner told me they’d hurt her and him if I didn’t do what they said. All those nasty things I said to you – they had this earpiece in my ear…I didn’t mean any of it – I’m so sorry.”

Maisy embraced her in a hug just as the tears started to fall.

“I get it,” she said. “Hey…cheer up. You’ve got a comp to win, right?”  

“Heck yeah, get it together. I put ten dollars on you,” said Zack, smiling then freezing up. “With the good guys, I mean. No pressure.”

 Serena smirked and led them to the stands. Maisy was still struggling to believe that she was his half-sister. But then again, she thought a lot of what had happened was unbelievable. It turned at that everyone in her marine biology class had been in the same boat that she was – living at the mercy of the mob. And while there were some like Zack who were well aware, there were a few, like her, who didn’t even know it. Some were even being held to ransom without their knowledge – while they stayed in Eldora, the Trafficones were extorting money from their parents, in order for their safe return and their total silence on the matter. Thanks to her, all of that was history.    

 Zack and Maisy saw Bethany limbering up and gave her a wave, then found their seats and waited for the show to begin. Zack bought two hot dogs and handed one to his girlfriend. Maisy pushed up close to his muscly body. Just as he tried to reciprocate Maisy leaned over him, and put a hand on his shoulder to keep him in his seat.

“Do you like me big, Zack?”  she asked, blinking slowly.

“I like you no matter how big you are,” Zack replied. “I love you, Maisy.”

He tried to lean in for a kiss, but Maisy kept him pushed back. She had another bite of hot dog.

“I said, do you like me big?

 She looked into his eyes, then guided them to the flush of cheerleaders on the dance floor, getting some last minute practice. “See those girls? I used to look like that. I used to have a thigh gap like they do,” she said. “I used to be skinny. I was an hourglass, Zack.”

She sucked in, arched her back, and pushed the fat on her waist into herself. She shook back her hair and smiled. There was a mischievous glint in her eye.

“You don’t have to change for me, Maisy,” Zack said. “I love you just as you are. You’re beautiful.”

Maisy smiled brighter. She breathed out with a sultry sigh. Her belly pushed up against her blouse buttons again. She fingered the bulges that pooched through the lower gaps as she drew the hot dog back to her mouth.

“But do you want me big?”

She put the snack to her lips, opened up, and puffed out her cheeks as she slid it in. But she didn’t bite down. Instead she slid it out again, slowly and sensually.

“Like, really big?”

She licked the length of the sausage. She smiled as her boyfriend grew hot under the collar.

“Mmmm…like, this big?”

She popped off her lowest button and fondled the swell of her belly. Zack’s eyes went wide.

“You want this…” she whispered. She began to rub. “You want all of this, don’t you…you want a big fat chick...”

Yesss…” he whispered back. Maisy giggled.  He wasn’t faking it after all, she thought.

“Good,” she said. She took a big bite of the hot dog. “Becau…mmmphh…because I’m not losing weight.”

“What do you mean?” said Zack. “You’re literally not losing weight, or you’re just done?”

“Both, I guess,” Maisy shrugged. “I gave up dieting last week, because it sucks. I’ve hit a wall shifting the pounds. If I want to lose any more I might actually have to give up movie and chocolate nights with you.”

She pushed the rest of the hot dog into her mouth.

“Mmmph…and I’m not prepared to do that. At least, not yet. Not till summer. I’ve booked myself at a fat camp the other side of the country. Wellspring La Jolla.”

She shifted to fix her button back over her belly. Zack gave her a hand.

“But even then I’m not sure. Like, I’ll try and all, but I could drop two hundred pounds and I’ll still be overweight.”

Zack pinched her button close. Maisy breathed out. He brought back his hand and as if on cue, the button on her jeans popped open.

“It’s so much effort. Part of me thinks I’m destined to be like this.”

“But don’t you want to be like them again?” he asked her, gesturing to the cheerleaders as she let him fix her pants. “I don’t mean it for me. I mean it for you. Don’t you miss being slim sometimes?”

 Maisy pondered as she chewed another bite of hot dog. She wasn’t sure. She certainly missed shopping at Victoria’s Secret and Abercrombie & Fitch at the mall. But if she started slimming down with that goal in mind, she knew she’d miss out on a lot of yummy food with Zack. Keeping slim would expose her to an unforgiving world of temptation once again.

“Think about it,” Zack said. “You could go back to college. You could hit the gym. You could go back to the cheer squad, and then this time maybe in a year or two, I bet you could be on top of that pyramid. You could win this competition.”

Maisy grinned.

“You really think so?”

“Yes”

“But then I wouldn’t be able to sit here and do this.”

 She unzipped his jacket, slowly, down to his belly button. Then she pushed her soft, warm, beautifully big breasts into his chest. This time there was no holding him back. Zack put an arm around her waist and kissed her deeply. She closed her eyes.

“Don’t you want a fairytale ending?” he asked her.

“It’s ok,” Maisy smiled, dreamily. “I think I’ve already got one.”

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