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The Rape-porter by Maltesefalcon


maltesefalcon

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This is a dark story....so reader beware!

The Rape-porter

Marisol Iglesias picked up her cell phone on the second ring. It was her boss, Tony Sosa, the editor of the TV station where she worked. “What are you doing right now?” he asked.

She looked over at her driver/cameraman and replied. “Just left that new mall opening. We’re on our way to the food bank, to cover the fall food drive.”

Good-you’re not far. Forget about that assignment. Get over to the southeast corner of Central Park as fast as you can. See a Detective…..... let me see.” The sound of rusting papers and then, “James, Jones something like that. Anyway, he’s the only one there. Something about a missing kid.”

“Missing?” Marisol perked up a bit. “You mean missing like lost, or missing like a kidnapping?”

“Cops usually don’t send detectives out on a runaway search. Anyway, you’re always after me to do some real news stories. Here’s your chance, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. She hated when Tony called her that. At least the rest of the office didn’t think of her, as a former WHIST girl. It was supposed to stand for Weather/Human Interest. Lately, since he’d become managing editor, it stood for Whoever He Is Screwing Today. Nevertheless, a story was a story; so she gritted her teeth and offered “Thanks for the confidence in me. I won’t let you down.”

“No biggie honey. Not like I have a choice anyway. Everyone else is at that big fire in the Bronx. Just get 5 minutes or so and file in time for the 6 o’clock news.”  Before she could say another word, the phone went dead, as he rung off.

She looked over at Cam, her cameraman. The name and career choice never ceased to amuse her. “Hear that?”

“Most of it. Be there in 15 minutes or so.” True to his word, they pulled up behind a lone unmarked prowl car.

She assumed the tall man in the trench coat was her contact. Hustling over, she stuck out her hand to introduce herself. “It’s okay, I know who you are. I seen you on TV, few times.”

Marisol smiled and offered “Then you have the advantage.” The man reached into his pocket and produced a crinkled business card. As he leaned forward to hand it over, Marisol noted the scent of cheap aftershave. She also picked up a strong smell of alcohol, the result of the 2 shots of Jameson, in the detective’s coffee. Already a bit wary, she looked at the card. It read Detective Sam Jonas/ Robbery Homicide. She stifled a giggle.

Sumpin’ wrong?” he asked.

“No sorry. My boss-I don’t know how he finds his way to work in the morning… anyway, pleased to meet you.”

He shook her hand and she realized he was a bit unsteady on his feet. There was a beat cop there too, and she hoped he was the one driving. Marisol took out her steno pad and prepared to make notes. “So what have we got?”

“Nothing really. Thought we had a missing kid. But he turned up few minutes ago. It’s all over.”

Although disappointed, she still had the instincts to ask. “Oh, what happened?”

The older man shrugged-his expression displaying his insouciance over the whole matter. “Nanny took him for some fresh air, but took off. Left him here, in his stroller. A couple saw him and pushed him to a cruiser on the other side. Parents are on their way.”

Marisol nodded to Cam as he shouldered his rig. “Mind if I ask a few questions on tape?”

The detective nodded. “Sure. It won’t make any difference though.”

“Oh? Why not?” Her composure was doubly interfered, by the thought of a possible missing person, and the fidgeting Cam was doing behind her.

“She’ll be an illegal-they all are. Pay and working conditions are usually crap, so no one here wants the job. Probably got a better offer, or saw an INS agent. Either way, she’ll be gone for good. Same as the rest.”

“The rest?”

He nodded. “Got a whole folder of them. Must be 20 or so. Fat chance I have of solving them.” He showed her the folder, and it immediately occurred to her, as she sheafed through the papers; they were all Latina women about her age.

She asked. “So all these women-they are missing?”

“Let’s call them........unaccounted for. Won’t be my problem, shortly. I’ll do what I can, which is basically nothing. We found the kid-that’s what’s important.”

That was it for her.  No missing kid, no blonde Barbie, to put out an Amber Alert on. “So these missing women are just ignored or forgotten, because they’re Latina illegals? That sucks don’t you think?”

He shook his head “Not forgotten. I am looking.”

She scoffed. “One broken down, half drunk cop, to run down all these leads. I won’t hold my breath. But you’d better, if you get pulled over while driving.”

His eyes flashed in anger, just briefly. “Look lady. I got no family connections to go on. Like I said earlier, they’re all illegal, so no documents or bank accounts, whatsoever. Their LNA is usually either a lie or in another country.”

Her quizzical look prompted the explanation. “Last known address. Don’t ask me why we spell it that way.  Anyway, it’s not easy. I only got on this detail because it’s SOP for retiring cops on their last month. No new files. And even though I don’t need to explain myself to you, I will. I’ve paid my dues. I took a bullet in Desert Storm, and one on duty with the force. I’m looking after my brother’s kids, ‘cause their dad went down in the North Tower. Besides, you two don’t look like the A-Team either. Last time I saw you, you were covering a kid’s birthday party. I don’t know if you realize it, but that camera doesn’t work. Long story short, I don’t need some fat ass two-bit reporter, telling me how to do my job.” With that, he stormed off, in the direction of the beat cop. Thankfully, the uniformed officer climbed into the driver’s seat, as the prowl car sped off.

Marisol now fixed her glare on Cam, who was in fact struggling with the camera. “Sorry Mar-I think it’s dead.”She threw up her hands in disgust and stormed into the van slamming the door for good measure.

Cam returned about ten minutes later. “It’s not my fault you know. That rig’s 10 years old and I’ve been begging for new one. He had packed up the defective gear and held out a box for her. Peace offering?”

She leaned over and gave him a hug. “I’m sorry I went PMS back there. It’s just when we finally get a story…

Then she looked down at the box and noticed a dozen double chocolate cupcakes. As Cam pulled away, she tucked into one and mulled over the last part of the conversation.

Two bit reporter she muttered, as the second cupcake began to disappear. I’ll call his boss tomorrow. She was genuinely hurt by the implication. Licking the icing from her fingers, she glared briefly at Cam, scolding him. “Why do you keep buying this stuff-can’t you see how fat I’m getting?” Patting her paunch she sighed. “Look at this belly. It’s getting bigger all the time. I’m trying to cut down-you know it’s not good for me…”

“Sorry.” He held out his hand and offered. “Here I’ll get rid of them.”

 Gently, she smacked his hand away as she smiled. “I’ll take care of that, this time. Just cut it out. You are a very bad influence on me you know.”

She sighed, in the realization that ship had sailed long ago. That detective was a jerk, but he did have a point. The fat ass comment stung, but sadly, it was true. Just this morning she’d weighed herself; and the needle had stopped at 287- a new record.

Over the third cupcake, she mused at how she’d ended up like this. On her first day of college, she’d been so small.  At 105 pounds and 32AA-18-36, she’d been a slender size 2. College has its own way of changing that.

We flash back to that spring....

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Chapter 2

 Marisol sat in the kitchen, toying with the snack her mother had made.  Her Mom, Ines, frowned. “Is something wrong with your food, dear?”

“No Mama. It’s fine. It’s just...I- I’ve developed a few bad habits at school. Too much beer and pizza, so I gained 10 pounds.  I feel fat and ugly now.” Marisol was wearing a loose fitting sweat shirt and a pair of somewhat shabby overalls. She had chosen it partly for comfort, and partly to disguise the evidence of her gain.

Her mother snorted. “Who told you that you were fat?”

Marisol shrugged. “No one. But most of my clothes don’t fit any more.”

Her mother left the kitchen and came back with a dress she had worn to her first communion. “I have always loved this dress and you only wore it that one day. Put it on for me...please?”

Marisol snickered. “Don’t be silly mama. I couldn’t possibly fit into that now. I outgrew it years ago.”

 Her mother nodded. “Exactly. And you’re still a growing girl. You may have filled out a bit, but you are still much too thin for your own good. But you could dress more ladylike. That outfit is not very becoming.”

“Come upstairs with me. I want to have look.” Marisol knew better than to argue, so they went into her mother’s room. She closed the door. “Take that off please.” Her daughter obediently stripped down to her bra and panties.

Sra. Iglesias took her hand and led her onto the scale. As predicted, the scale read....117. Marisol blushed. “It’s worse than I thought. I’ve gained 12 pounds since I left home.”

Pinching her daughter’s skin over her thighs and buttocks; Mom hushed her. “I think you are focusing too much on the scale.” She opened her sewing box and took out a dressmaker’s tape. “Hold still, please. Let’s see what we have here. Waist...20”.  She pinched Marisol’s belly and had to scrape hard with her fingers, just to get a skin fold. “Hard as rock here.”

Next, a loop around her hips. “38 you have a nice shape there. It’s what men like, you know.” Finally she measured her daughterès rib cage, and bust.  She tugged on the back strap of Marisol’s bra and it read 32B.

Ow. Take it easy mom. That hurts a bit.”

Her mom nodded. “That’s because it’s too tight.” She spun Marisol around and tried to stick her finger up alongside her sternum under the front band. “You should be able to get a finger under here.”

“See-it’s because I’m getting fat. I told you.”

“No, dear. It’s because you have the wrong size. You should have a 34A. Watch.”  She pulled off her top and slid her finger easily up and down.

Marisol laughed as she returned the favour and checked her mother’s size . “I’m not surprised you have room. That’s a bigger size. 46 DD.”

The senior Iglesias nodded. “Si. But I’m a bigger girl.” That was true. Marisol’s mom was a full-figured 41-year-old woman; 46-34-43 and 160 pounds of her. She had a very mature hourglass figure with fleshy plump hips and the large aforementioned breasts. Her black hair only hinted at streaks of gray and Marisol still considered her beautiful. Her husband had been killed in a car accident five years back, and because of the stress, she’d let herself go a bit. Because she still had a slim face and arms, so no one she knew called her fat. If she didn’t change her dietary habits, that would not last long.

 

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Chapter 3

Ines caught her giving the once over and she raised an eyebrow. “What are you staring at?”

“Oh. Sorry mom. I just wished that maybe I could grow a bit...you know, up here. Maybe the boys will pay more attention?”

Mom gave her a hug. “I was built just like you when I was your age, you just are too young to remember. But truly it will happen for you too.”

She pulled her top back on and went to the closet. “What size are you?”

“Size 2” Marisol offered.

Ines raised an eyebrow as she eyed her daughter more carefully. “Maybe last year.”

Marisol nodded. “Size 4 would be better, I guess.”

“I have some nice clothes, that haven’t fit me for years. How about this?” She pulled out a cashmere pullover and a short wool skirt. “Size 6. This will be a bit big on you, but it is more ladylike.”

Once Marisol had it on, they adjusted the outfit as best they could. Marisol was pleased by the effect but commented. “It’s a bit baggy.”

Mmmhmm. Men like a woman who can fill out her clothes, but it will have to do for now. I have found you a job for the summer.”

Marisol had looked forward to having the summer “off”; but a single widow doesn’t have a lot of spare money to throw around. Marisol needed to earn at least some of the money needed for school. “Oh? Doing what?”

“Sr. Gutierrez’ secretary/receptionist is off having a baby. You can fill in for her, till you go back.”

“MOM!!!!!! No way am I working in a funeral home all summer. It’ll be creepy.”

Sra. Iglesias laughed. “No. Not that Gutierrez. Ramon Gutierrez-the Cadillac dealer. He is a very nice man. I’m sure you will like working for him. You start tomorrow.”

Marisol hugged her. “Thanks mom. I guess I better wear this tomorrow. I can buy some stuff with my first check.”

“No honey. You need to save for school. We can make some...alterations. But get a new bra or two on the way home. Now enough talk. Come back down. I will make you some of those smooth drinks you seem to enjoy to celebrate.”

“They’re called smoothies, mom. And just one. They are really fattening.”

The way I make them they are, Iglesias senior thought. If I play this right, those clothes will fit you soon.  Marisol’s mom was old-fashioned and wanted the best for her only daughter. And that meant marriage to a fine young man. And at this moment, that meant Ricardo Gutierrez, Ramon’s son.

Marisol was a hit in the dealership. Fully fluent in both Spanish and English, she could provide documents and assistance to both staff and customers. Her boss was very generous and gave her a small commission on every sale that she assisted with. To help her save money, he took her to the local buffet every day for lunch.

Friday did not go so well. Ricardo showed up and looked her over. The young man was not alone. He was accompanied by a Latina, who Marisol assumed was his girlfriend.  Bored, she wandered petulantly around the showroom; as all the eyes in the room followed her. She was built like a larger Beyonce. The yoga pants she had on displayed her prominent rump and the low cut tank top clung tightly to her D-cup breasts. They must have been firm, because no evidence of a bra was visible. But where Beyonce’s figure left off, hers took over. She was a bit plumper, with a round face and a soft pot belly sticking out a couple inches, in front.

The newcomer strode over to the refreshment area. Within seconds, she was eating a donut from each hand. Marisol offered her a coffee and was surprised when the young woman thanked her and introduced herself. Gracias. I am Rico’s girlfriend, Carla. You must be his little cousin. You look all grown up in your mama’s outfit.”

Before Marisol could correct her “Rico” swept past, without giving her a second glance. The pair were out the door and off with a squeal of tires.

Mr. Gutierrez stared after them in frustration and muttered inaudibly.  But he snapped to attention when he caught Marosol’s expression and asked. “Anything wrong honey?”

The secretary nodded. “That girl...Carla...she thought I was your niece.”

“Ah. That is because your outfit is so...inappropriate. It’s much too big and quite out of date. Elena is about your size, though.”

The young worker fought back a tear. “It’s all I have.”

“Listen, it’s almost lunch time. I need to make a phone call and we can go.” He disappeared for a few moments and they were gone. Marisol did not feel much better about herself, when she found out that Elena was still three weeks shy of her fifteenth birthday.

Suddenly, Ines appeared. “Mom what are you doing here?”

“Well, Senior Gutierrez called me and asked me stop by.  He said you were upset so I was worried. What is wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. Got mistaken for a 14 year old, that’s all.”

After a long and filling lunch the trio ended up at a trendy store, not far away. Marisol looked out the window of the car and asked. “Why are we here?”

Her mom smiled. “We have a surprise! Sr. Gutierrez feels you have earned a bonus. He is going to pay for a few clothes for you to wear to work.”

Marisol blushed. “I was told that charity...”

He interrupted. “This is not charity. It is an investment in one of my best employees. You’re a pretty girl if you don’t mind my saying and that is always a bonus to any business. I’m a bit uncomfortable sitting in the store, though. I’ll wait out here. Just get what you need and I’ll come in and settle up.”

Once inside they started with a few outfits. Marisol liked the traditional look. The size 4 outfit she wore home was a far cry from the one she’d shown up in. A tight beige suede leather skirt ending 3” above the knee displayed her best asset, while a crisp white blouse and bolero vest helped to camouflage the shortcomings in the bust department.

Marisol forgot her troubles and settled into a routine. Her mother was coming over more regularly, to visit during working hours now. It was sometimes the only time she saw her, as mom was dating a new mystery man. Marisol did not resent it though; she was pleased that her mother had found happiness again.

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Chapter 4

But about six weeks into the summer, Marisol noticed something else. Marisol got a peek at Ines as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror putting on her makeup, while clad only in her bra and panties.

She gasped at the sight. “Mom-is it my imagination... or are you gaining weight?”

Sra. Iglesias smiled. “Maybe a little.” The older Latina was trying to downplay the gain, but it was glaringly obvious. Her new nightly dating routine had already added 22 pounds to her figure. Her once merely plump abdomen had increased by 6” and she had a very prominent pot belly. Her 46” hips and butt were straining her too-small panties as well. Up top, her bust had swollen to 49” and an E-cup was simply unequal to the task of containing the growth, as the boob flesh bulged out of the top of her cups.

“Mom it’s none of my business, but you just met someone. Maybe....you should cut down a bit? You’re going to lose him, if you aren’t careful.” She poked her bulging belly for emphasis.

Ines nodded as she hugged her daughter. “You’re right.....it is none of your business.” She kissed Marisol on the cheek, then went into her room to dress, closing the door behind her.

Marisol sighed and hoped for the best. About three weeks later, there was another incident. This one involved Carla, Ricardo’s girlfriend. This time she was on her own and she looked much different. She had gained weight too. Her boobs had nearly doubled in size and she had very prominent belly, that a loose sweat top could not hide. Her face was puffy as well. At first, she simply clucked. Is everyone getting fat these days?

Then, the young woman gently stroked the bulge of her belly, with a wistful look. Marisol was no expert; but now she was pretty sure that the young woman’s current weight was due to other reasons. Ramon brought her into his office and they spoke for a few moments. Carla had been crying when she went in, but she was all smiles when she left.

Ramon came over and mentioned. “Let’s go for lunch a bit early. I have something to tell you.” Oddly enough, her mom arrived about ten minutes after they did. They filled the time with small talk for the most part. Ines went up for food four times, which seemed to be her habit of late. In the last 3 weeks, that habit had added another 10 pounds to her. That made her just 8 pounds shy of hitting 200. Ines had added another inch to her hips and she’d struggled to get her white linen skirt over the 47-inch girth. Her buttocks were bigger than basketballs and despite herself Marisol was intrigued by the jiggle and sway as she walked to the buffet.

Up top she’d switched to an EE cup to contain her 50” boobs. She was getting older, so they were beginning to sag and strained the buttons of her too-small cardigan, which now fit as tight as a drum.  But it was her belly that drew the most attention. It had grown by another 3” and it poked out farther than Carla’s. Omigod Marisol thought. Is she pregnant too? Ines was only 41, so it was possible.

As if reading her mind, Ramon sipped his coffee and sighed. “We need to tell you something. Your mother and I were hoping that we could put you and my son...together. At first, I didn’t really like Carla and thought she was a bad match for Ricardo. But over time I have gotten to know her better. In any case, there is a child on the way, so I have accepted this and they are to be married. The wedding will be the weekend before you go back to school. We’d like you to be there.”

Marisol nodded. “I saw her and figured it out for myself.” Then she frowned at her mom. “And I can find my own boyfriends, thank you.”

Ines cleared her throat. “There’s more. I have been keeping a secret from you.”

Marisol snickered. “Mom it’s the worst kept secret ever. I know you’re pregnant too.” Then, she stared over at Ramon. “And I’m pretty sure I know who the father is.”

Ramon sighed. “My wife died giving birth to Ricardo. I have always admired Ines and when we started to spend a little time together, well we just clicked.”

Ines glared at her daughter. “But I’m not pregnant. Why would you think that?”

Marisol reached over and poked her mom’s paunch. “This is why. No one gets this fat this quick, unless they are pregnant or doing it on purpose.”

“On purpose-by desire...” Ines smiled coyly. “Why is that so hard to imagine?” She snuggled up to Ramon and he put his arm around her. Marisol put two and two together pretty quick, but said nothing more.

Ramon added. “We are going to make it a double wedding. I hope you can be happy for us?”

 Marisol was crying. She stood up and hugged them both and offered. “I’m very happy and hope you will be too.”

The wedding went off with only one minor hitch. All those lunches added up. Marisol had gained some weight over the summer, too. She now weighed 122 pounds and had increased her figure to 34-21-39.

The young woman was not worried and expected to lose some weight once she got back to school. She did not.  In fact, by the time Marisol graduated, she blossomed to a softer 135 pounds and 36C-23-41. Men now did double takes looking at her bubble butt, as she walked by;  but to her it was just unwanted flab.

Her final year had ended and she came home to look for work. Of course, Ines had moved in with Ramon and now Marisol, Ricardo and Carla were all part of an extended family. Said family was being extended even more, as Carla was currently in her fifth pregnancy, in 4 years. Counting the twins she’d had only 6 months earlier, this would be her sixth child.

She didn’t seem to mind, but the effort had certainly wreaked havoc on her figure. She had ballooned to 257 pounds and didn’t seem to mind or care because she spent most of her waking hours eating.

Ines now had a housekeeper to do most of the chores, but still pitched in around the kitchen. With nothing else to do she followed her step daughter’s example. Ines was huge now as well. The image of her 224 pound 54-62-51 body waddling around the house would not be easily forgotten. But neither Ramon nor Ricardo seemed to mind or complain that their wives were so fat. Marisol was beginning to suspect that they were both happy with the outcome. Like father like son.

In any case, it was time to focus on her life and career. It took some doing to find something suitably alluring, yet professional for her first job interview. WLAT TV was a New York station; that broadcast its programming in both English and Spanish, but its advertising catered mostly to a Latino market. She remembered the interview as if it were yesterday….

 

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Chapter 5

Sr.  Sosa glanced briefly at her resume and they began to speak in Spanish. “What makes you think you would be a good addition to our team?”

Marisol responded in perfect colloquial Spanish about her education, ties to the community and her knowledge of Latino customs and culture. She then ended asking if Senor Sosa was interviewing any other candidates.

“Call me Tony” he smiled. “And yes we are, but I think you are the best of the lot. You have the right look for television, for the most part, so I’m prepared to offer you the position.”

Marisol gasped.”Right here and now?”

“Yes. Under certain conditions.”

She began to fidget a bit and noticed him staring. She’s not had to dress formally since last summer and that was at least one size ago.

“Sorry, this outfit itches.” she said. “Been a while since I’ve needed to wear business clothes and well...to be blunt, I’ve put on a little weight recently.” It was an understatement. The clothes were so skintight she had been worried a bit about bursting out of them. In fact, the seam of the skirt split a bit in back, when she sat down; but she hoped no one would  notice.

Here we go Tony clenched his lips and sighed. “I’m not supposed to ask, but you’re not….?”

She waited for him to finish the sentence and then realized what he was driving at. “Pregnant?” She felt the softness and fullness of the belly she had recently developed, realizing that it was an easy mistake to make. “Oh no senor, this is mostly just my mom’s cooking since I’ve been home from school-if she had her way, I’d be even bigger.” Patting her pot again she snickered. “Mama says I need to gain a bit more. Fat chance of that. Oh-bad choice of words.”  She laughed in relief and Tony breathed easier.

He sat back, relaxed once again. “That’s good. And it’s Tony. Okay?”

She nodded and changed the subject. “You mentioned certain conditions….?”

Tony pursed his lips, nodding pensively. “Let’s have a good look at you. Stand up and turn around please.” He gave the signal to pirouette.

“Excuse me?” Nevertheless, she stood and did as he asked. She placed her hand on the small of her back and raised her other hand in a vogue style move; that she hoped would convey an air of sophistication. In reality, she was merely covering the small gap in the back of her skirt top, where the fashion mishap had occurred.

Tony looked her over expertly and offered. “I guess that’ll do for now. We can work on your look.”

Marisol reddened but controlled her anger. “My look? What am I, a piece of meat? I’ve gone to college, speak 2 languages fluently, and a ten-second peep show is what you hire me for? I thought America was farther ahead than that.” She crossed her arms and pouted a bit.

Tony now controlled his own temper and offered. “Look, honey. Your resume and qualifications got you the interview, so calm down, okay? You need to realize this is television and like it or not, you will be judged on your appearance. At least the ratings will, and in this business, ratings are your life blood. That’s not my call; it’s reality. If you don’t like it, find a job in radio.”

He looked her right in the eye looking for any hint she was thawing out. None was evident, in fact the arms crossed tighter and the bottom lip drooped even lower.  He held his hands in mock supplication. “Look at it this way, it’s better to be offered the job based on your looks, than turned down for the same reason, right?” He pointed at the stack of resumes on the desk. “When you leave, I’ll have to make a dozen phone calls to girls who weren’t so lucky. Shall I add yours to the pile? Just stand up and walk out. Now, if you will excuse me...?”

Marisol suddenly changed her tune. “I hadn’t…thought of it that way. I guess you have a point there. Sorry for over-reacting” She paused before asking “You said you needed to work on my look? In what way?”

Tony nodded. “Glad you asked. Don’t worry about your work clothes not fitting, you’ll get a full wardrobe here, plus a makeup staff. If you come on board, we will have to do something about your figure, however. What do you weigh-125 maybe?”

Marisol blushed. “That’s what I thought you were driving at. I heard the camera adds 10 pounds. If it’ll help, I’ll join a gym, whatever it takes.”

“Please answer my question. And don’t fudge the numbers, if you want this interview to continue.”

Marisol gritted her teeth and muttered. “135, as of yesterday. How much will I have to lose?” Her lip was starting to quiver.

“Hey relax.” Tony chuckled and held up his hand. “Actually, that’s not what I had I mind at all. When your mother asked you to fill out a bit more, you obviously took her advice.”

“Let’s get this straight. I didn’t take her advice. This just happened over four years of college, it wasn’t intentional.” Not like some people she thought.”

“You said earlier she fed you up a bit. Why do you suppose she did that?”

“She wanted me to marry and have kids instead of a career.” Marisol was uncomfortable but continued. “According to her Latino men don’t want skinny girls.”

Tony nodded. “She’s a smart woman. You have a nice healthy Latina shape. 90% of our viewers are Latino men 25-35. You’re nearly what I-I mean they, are looking for in an ideal woman.”

Marisol bristled at the combination compliment/insult. “Nearly?”

“Si. If you gain a few more pounds, you would be even more photogenic.” He held out his hands in a somewhat exaggerated interpretation of the female hourglass. “I suggest you need to go in the opposite direction. No strike that-I insist.” He pondered a few seconds more and added. “In fact if you take the job, I’m going to put a stipulation to that effect, in your contract. Let’s set it at 150 pounds minimum. So you need to  gain…15 pounds. You up for that?”

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Chapter 6

Marisol gasped “You can’t do that-it’s discrimination and it’s illegal.”

“Actually it’s not, as long as it’s spelled out in advance as a condition of employment. Most entertainers have appearance riders in their contracts. Weight, hair colour, piercing, tattoos are all subject to approval now. And like it or not the weather girl is as much entertainment as journalism. You ever see an old ugly one?”

Marisol had to admit she had not. She shook her head silently. Then she added “Let me get this straight. You’d force me to gain 15 pounds, just for a job?”

“It’s not just a job, it’s a career honey. At least the start of one.  Typically, you’ll move to another department in a year or so, once you know the ropes. As for my conditions, you never squawked when your mother suggested it and that was for free. Nobody is forcing you. If you won’t do it for me, do it to make her happy. Up to you…”

Marisol clutched at straws. “What about the current weather girl? Did she do it too?”

Now Tony grimaced a bit. “No. My fault. Hired a girl from Valencia.” He rooted around on the desk and showed her a picture. “Beautiful, tall, willowy like Cher, in her younger days. Much younger days. I thought her European outlook would attract new viewers. Backfired, no one liked her. Couldn’t understand her Spanish and her accent when she spoke English was dreadful. She was nice enough, but viewers called her the Skinny Bitch. The name stuck and ratings dropped. So I’m going back to more familiar territory. She’s going south to work in a Mexican soap opera. Good for her and good riddance.”

Marisol hoped to use that information to her advantage. “Well no one would call me tall and willowy. And I haven’t been a skinny bitch in a while. Compared to her, well maybe you are going too far the other way, yes?”

Tony shook his head. “This has to go right, or it’s my neck this time. My offer and demand stands.”

She rubbed her stomach and pondered.“Another 15 pounds. How much will end up here?” She was familiar with her own BMI chart. Her current weight was right at the limit of the “normal” category, for her height. But at 150 pounds, she’d be hovering on obese. That scared her a bit. “No, I think I will pass.”

Tony pressed again. “You don’t like the curvier look. Fine time to change your mind now.”

She crossed her arms again. “I am curvy now and I’m just fine with how I am now, thank you very much. But 15 pounds more is a lot. I’ll be…”she paused to find the right word without saying it.

Tony did it for her. “Fat?”

“Yes fat, not curvy. I know the difference.” She was right and the mental image of a Spanish gordita flitting around the screen flashed into her brain. She pondered a minute longer and offered. Looking at her soft paunch again, she sighed. “5. No more.”

He shook his head. “15.”

In desperation, she offered “Let’s split the difference and call it 10.”

Tony leaned forward. “You are a good negotiator. If this was a negotiation, I’d consider it; but it’s not. 15 or walk. Tell you what. If you do it, I’ll bump your pay 10%, if you do it before the end of the 3-month trial period.”

Now she pressed further. “20% and don’t bother to say 15. This time I’m not negotiating.” She wasn’t sure whether she actually wanted to win this debate now.

Tony smiled. “That will be fine.” She would not find out that everyone got a 20% bump once they got past the trial period, until it was too late.

Marisol sighed. “Okay it’s a deal. I’m not sure if I can actually gain 15 pounds in 3 months. Mama’s a pro at this and it took her 2 years to get me like this.”

Tony smiled. “Let me worry about that. Long as you show some effort, we’ll do the rest.”

She shook on it and Tony beamed “Welcome to the team.” In the end, the contract ended up with a 20-pound clause. She thought maybe once on board she’d be able to get out of the situation. As it turned out the clause would be unnecessary, but she had no idea at the time.

Marisol stood to leave and mentioned. “One more thing. This may be a deal breaker, but I’m not your honey. If we are going to work together I would appreciate the respect I deserve…Mr. Sosa.”

Then she spun on her heel and left leaving him to admire her wiggle all the way out the corridor. This one had spirit. He welcomed the challenge and the days ahead.

 

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Chapter 7

Marisol came home and her mother and Carla were all abuzz about her interview.

She sighed. “Good news and bad news. They offered me a job right away. I can start next week.”

Ines hugged her and kissed her cheek. “Oh baby, we are so proud of you. I knew you could do it.”

Carla burst the bubble. “I assume that was the good news? What is the bad?”

Marisol plopped onto the sofa. “I-I have to go on a special diet. 20 pounds.”

Ines blanched, but Carla giggled. “Seriously? There’s nothing to you, as it is. Now if I lost 20 pounds, no one would even notice. My boobs weigh more than that.”

Marisol reached out and squeezed one. “One of your boobs weighs more than that. But that’s not it. They want a gordita for ratings. I have to gain 20 pounds in three months, or I’m out.”

“It’s only 20 pounds.” Ines paused for effect. “What did you say to them...?”

 Marisol threw her hands up in defeat. “I agreed, because I couldn’t think of anything else to do. But that’s not even the worst part.”

Now Ines was worried. “Oh dear, what is it?”

Marisol smiled slyly. “I have to admit you were right. And I will need your help.”

The two women stared silently at her as Marisol finally sighed. “Are you going to make me say it?”

Ines nodded. Carla realized what was happening, so took out her cell phone to record the event for posterity. Mom raised an eyebrow. “I’m waiting.”

“Fine. Have it your way. Mom. Mother always knows best. I was wrong and you were right.”

“And?”

“Will you please fatten me up? Carla can help too.”

“No, she can’t. She has kids to look after. But I will be absolutely delighted to offer my assistance.”

Marisol frowned. “You don’t have to look so pleased with yourself.”

“Yes I do. Don’t deny me my little pleasures” Ines took her hand instead. “Come daughter. Time is wasting. Let us see what we have to work with. Come upstairs with me.” Carla had every intention of joining them and filming that too. But her boobs were full and the twins started crying at the same time. She’d have to wait for the report.

Once in the upstairs bathroom Marisol disrobed and stepped on the scale. “136. See? Now we only have 19 to go.”

The daughter spun her finger in the air. “Oh Joy! I gained a pound since yesterday.”

Ines shook her head. “Don’t you see that shows this will be easy. Now let’s get some measurements.”

It had been three years since they had done this. Okay. Hips 41. Marisol’s butt had filled out nicely. Still firm, with not a hint of cellulite. Her cheeks formed a pert shelf that shimmied nicely as she walked. In spite of her protests, Marisol did realize the plump globes had probably gotten her this job.  Her boobs were still quite small in comparison, 36C. Her mom pointed out she was still wearing the wrong bra size, a 38B this time. Last time they’d done this, Marisol had a solid, flat stomach. That was 3” and 18 pounds ago. She had a plump layer of fat that easily pinched a skin fold 1” thick. A little pot belly had developed, already projecting 1-1/2” over her the waistline of her panties.

Ines pinched the softness of her daughter’s upper arm and noted the beginning of cheek bulges and a double chin. Marisol started to cry a bit. “Oh mom. I don’t want to get fat.”

Ines thought better than to mention that her daughter actually was kind of fat already. Instead she hugged her and suggested. “Put on your dressing gown. We will start now.”

The cook was clued in to the plan. Before she knew it Marisol had tucked into a plate of fried chicken and half an apple pie. Ines made a large pitcher of smoothie made with real cream. “Here honey. Drink this. It will add the weight quickly.”

“Gee thanks Mom.” Marisol retorted sarcastically.

Ines had enough. She held the drink up to her lips. “No more nonsense. We have five days until you start. Maybe we can get 5 pounds on you by then.

In reality they “only” managed to put 3 pounds on her by then, so she started working at 139 pounds. That would be the last day of her life in the “normal” weight bracket. Sr. Sosa was pleased to hear that she was making an effort and had no worries that she would renege on the deal now.

First off, nearly everyone in the station knew she had a mandated 20-pound weight gain in her contract.  Until she did so, the wardrobe department had planned ahead. They padded her skirts and bras a bit, both for continuity and to get her used how she would fill out at 155 pounds based on her current measurements. In seconds, she blossomed into a 39DD-23-44 beauty. She did like the look of bigger boobs, but the getup was hot and uncomfortable under the lights.

The instant extra 3” on her butt was a little harder to accept. Feeling the massive globes sticking out behind her, she asked the wardrobe girl. “Is my ass really going to get this big?”

 The girl shrugged. “How the hell should I know? I’m like you, honey. I just do what they pay me for. Now hold still, this is going to take a little elbow grease.” They made her wear a skirt that was two sizes too small so she literally tugged it over the hip prosthesis. In 8” heels, walking in this get up was awkward at best. Sitting down was virtually impossible.

Immediately she felt fat, but was assured that a) it wasn’t real and B) it would act as a form of disguise so she wouldn’t be recognized on the street without her makeup.

But the conspiracy to fatten her up to the goal weight began to come unravelled, almost from the beginning. First, Ines really liked the new padded look, so of course wanted more. Marisol was already cooperating, by eating everything they put in front of her. But the old Marisol was disappearing quickly. Even the pictures at home of her skinnier days, were replaced by the larger “work” versions. When friends came over, they were disappointed to find out her TV body was faked. But not for long. Every day when she came in, the wardrobe team would have a dozen donuts or some other fattening treat for her to nibble on, while they worked on her. Not only that the sales staff were only too happy to take a pretty girl out for lunch. They had two strict instructions. No touching the goods and not taking no for an answer when it came to eating what was ordered. The first condition was adhered to with some difficulty for the would-be Lotharios of the office. The second condition was easy. Marisol was constantly being bombarded with food, and eventually her will power was overcome. Now she was an eating machine eagerly searching for her next snack.

If she’d had more self control and better genes, she might still be doing that job. Sadly, she had neither. Once she moved out on her own she figured she’d level off, away from her mom’s prodding and cooking. Wrong again. A good salary and a busy lifestyle got her in to a rut of bad eating habits. Everyone including her, was still primarily focussed on the stipulation that she weigh at least 155 pounds by the end of her 3 month trial period. No one thought of a game plan once the goal was achieved. The predominating message of getting bigger as a “work in progress” had not been mitigated with any upper limits. Not until it was too late, anyway.

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Chapter 8

Day 40 was a milestone of sorts. The wardrobe girl was having great difficulty getting the size 10 skirt on over her hip pad, today. Marisol was used to this by now and stood in insouciant silence, eating her fourth éclair of the morning. Finally, the exasperated technician sighed and shook her head. “Let’s face it, honey. You’ve filled out plenty. Time for the real you to make its debut.”

Marisol was not really surprised. She’d weighed herself today-156 pounds. Her boobs were getting bigger as a result-a 38D was not large enough to hold them in much longer. Or up. The extra flesh was getting subtle stretch marks already. No more Victoria’s Secrets. It was time for underwire and wide band versions. At least the real thing would be cooler under the lights. Still she had to bear the extra weight on her rib cage full-time, not just a few hours a day.

Jennie the wardrobe girl measured her hips. She whistled. 44”. No wonder that rig won’t fit. Your uh... hips, are an inch bigger than the prosthesis now. I’m going to put you into a size 14 skirt. If they don’t like your ass in that they can come and kiss mine. In any case we need a little extra room for this.

She padded the belly that had come along as collateral damage. Plumping her up in the right places had also filled her out in some of the wrong ones. Her face was puffier and needed extra makeup sculpting to fake the cheekbones that had disappeared before she even started.

But the bulge of her belly could not be disguised with makeup. Her girth had increased by 4” and she had a soft paunch that sagged down enough to envelope and hide the buckle of any belt she wore.

Jennie suggested. “Um. How can I put this? In case you didn’t realize? You’ve done it. Might I suggest you start tapering off?”

Marisol grabbed another éclair and offered. “Might I suggest you do you job and I’ll worry about mine thank you.”

So the trend continued. But this time, every curve, every pound, every inch was 100% real. By the 60 day mark, she actually gained 25 pounds, bringing her weight up to 165 and 40DD-28-45. She’d pushed the envelope in more ways than one and now at 50% body fat, was slipping out of the overweight category well into the obese zone. Officially she really was a fat chick and everyone knew it, including Marisol herself. At that point, a memo was circulated to her “helpers” at work to stop pressing her to gorge herself. No more free treats. It didn’t matter. She was making good money and just bought her own.

Even Ines got into the act. She suggested that her daughter was ripe for marriage now and should exploit her new-found celebrity and voluptuous figure to trap the ideal husband. With a ring on her finger she could get as fat as she wanted.

Marisol took the second advice while ignoring the first.  She’d moved on from resigning herself to becoming TV’s weather gordita. She was actually beginning to like the new look. She wiggled like Charo on the air and the ratings soared. The station even published her vital stats at the end of every weather report, until the FCC objected. Sometimes she would even end her set with the “Treat of the Day” segment, where the camera would fade out, as she tucked into some gooey pastry.

The usual fears of becoming obese never manifested itself. No one bothered her about the extra weight, much to her surprise. That did not mean the station was pleased, just worried about sending the wrong message. The crossed their fingers and hoped this would taper off.

Now craving the very things she’d cursed at first, she’d taken to sending her assistant out for treats on the sly. When that was discovered, she just pigged out at home in front of the TV every night. The results were predictable. In due course, she was no longer just voluptuous.

Her profile started to compete for space on the weather map. She recognized this a bit and often tried to position herself on the screen so her curves blended in with weather fronts. Failing that, she resorted to low cut tops, using her now massive breasts as subtle pointers to emphasize her talking points. But they were not enough to compensate for the other bulges she now tried to disguise. She’d gone from skinny to curvy to voluptuous to pleasingly plump already. Now there was no euphemism left, nor room for denial. She was a fat girl and she knew it. More important, everyone else knew it too. Wardrobe even tried a corset to cinch in her bulging belly.  That strategy actually worked for a while because it pushed the extra pounds up to her chest. Sr. Sosa was satisfied that she’d bought some time until things reversed themselves. But this just made things worse. The corset made sure her sins were disguised for a little while longer, so she decided that even bigger boobs would save the day.

As a consequence, the situation did not improve, it got worse. The first year complete, she decided to reward herself with a much-needed holiday. Two weeks in Cancun helped her to decompress. But the lazy pace and the all inclusive nature of the food and drink pumped her up more. She was now 190 pounds, 25 pounds over the agreed “target”. She was now gaining so quickly that people began to suspect she may be pregnant. The station manager forced her to get checked out by a doctor to make sure. She wasn’t but looking at her now E-cup boobs and her 43-33-48 silhouette it was understandable. Even a corset could not help now.

The station discussed its options with legal and considered either disciplining or firing her for being too fat. The conversation between Jim Downing and Tony Sosa went much like this:

“So let me see if I understand correctly. Against my advice, you forced this girl to sign a weight gain clause. Then you padded her up on live TV. Then you had half the stuff feeding her night and day. I’ve seen the lunch receipts, so there is no point in denying it.”

Sosa nodded.

“Then I suggest you find another way to settle this. If you fire her because she’s too fat, we will be sued for everything we have.”

Sosa knew he was defeated. Still, it was time to pull the plug on the weather girl stint. Actually, that part was not too hard to bear. It was after all a fluff entry level position and Marisol longed for a chance to prove herself as a real journalist. She was well liked and it was decided to move her to outside reporting. It would be easier to cover up the weight gain on camera if they only showed her from the shoulders up. So the pace continued, as her career and her figure blossomed at about the same rate. Again, had she even tapered off a bit, the tale would have taken a different turn.

There was no evidence of that. By the end of her second year she’d expanded to 230 and 47F-39-53. At 65% body fat, despite her best efforts to curb the trend, she was well into the morbidly obese category. By now, the end of year three, she struggled to squeeze her 53H-49-60 package into the van at times. 287 pounds was tough to move around, still morbidly obese only because there was no higher category. Now nearly globular in shape, she knew this job was getting harder for her and if she got too much bigger she’d be unable to do it at all. The party line at station management was that they had given her these stupid fluff stories to file out of sensitivity to her physical situation. In reality it was because she was no longer camera friendly for leads and they were still scared of lawsuits if they let her go. More than one higher up had secretly hoped she’d simply retire or resign out of frustration.

 

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Chapter 9

Back to the present:

Number 7 cupcake still had one or two bites in it as she picked out the 8th victim. She sighed. Half-aloud she muttered. “It’s not my fault I’m like this. I don’t eat that much-not really.” Some of the crumbs fell on her massive belly and she brushed them aside. “These cupcakes are good. Too bad there’s only one box.”

She was only 26, but by now she had resigned herself to this life. She thought of the cops comments. It wasn’t just her ass that was fat. Her massive boobs stuck out 10” in front acting as (in)convenientcrumb catchers for the bits that didn’t make it into her ever-growing paunch. There was plenty of room there too. Tired of fishing the treats out one by one she  finally grabbed the last 2 and ate each alternately. She signed as the last bite disappeared, hoping for more. Then she refocused her attention. Damn that man for his insults. Not my fault I’m like this. I have a slow metabolism. Then she realized it was out loud.

Cam smiled and offered. “Look I’m sorry about the interview and I know you’re pissed. Let’s call it a day and get a drink?”

She nodded. First, she picked up the phone and told Tony what had happened. A sharp exchange ensued and she finally said. “Hey don’t yell at me. You want better results, stop giving us junk to work with. I’ll try to talk to him tomorrow.” She hung up before he could respond.

Cam didn’t have to ask. “Joey’s?”

She sat as Cam ordered a plate of wings for her. Then another. Both were washed down by copious amounts of draft beer. Finally, he ordered a large pizza with the works.

Marisol held out her hand. “That’s plenty for me. If I eat any more I’ll be as big as a house. You are a bad influence, buddy. Every time I turn around you are throwing food my way. You need to stop doing this; if I didn’t know better I’d swear you were trying to fatten me up.”

Cam nodded as he smiled saucily. “Too late for that.” He ducked the tossed chicken bone and offered. “Relax it’s for me. I haven’t really eaten. I’ll get take out.”

Marisol smiled back and said. “It’s okay. Might as well get another pitcher, while we are waiting.” Cam should have taken the pizza home soon as it was done. Marisol asked for a slice. Then another.  Before long, the entire thing ended up in her and Cam went home to a bowl of cereal that night.

Soon as Cam dropped her off she went through a tub of butter brickle to end the night-literally. She woke up on couch with the spoon still in her hand and the remaining bits melting onto the carpet.

The phone was ringing. So was her head. She recognized the voice on the other end. It was Tony. “I need a favour. I know it’s Saturday but I need you to meet someone.”

She sat up and muttered. “I’m...uh...tired. Get someone else. If you can’t, I’m sure whatever crap assignment you have, can wait until Monday…”

“Not this time. That cop you were talking to yesterday has a story. Asked for you, specifically. Can you do this or not?”

“That asshole? Uh I guess. Where and when?” She was still in shock and a bit hung over.

“Mr Green Jeans on 10th, at noon. Bring your voice recorder-he doesn’t want a cameraman. Not yet. Take a cab and charge it.”

Before she could add anything else, the line went dead. She had just enough time to shower, dress and get there. The meeting place was an upscale restaurant. She scanned the customers looking for a familiar face and finally found Detective Jonas. He was not alone. His companion was a woman. Judging from the streaks of gray in her hair, she was about 40.

It was she who looked up and opened the conversation. Standing, she stuck out her hand. “You must be Ms. Iglesias. Corinne Booth, FBI. You know Detective Jonas.”

She nodded. “Call me Marisol, please.” She glanced furtively in the NYPD member’s direction and nodded. “Good to see you again, Detective.”

He blushed a bit. “I’m not sure if you really meant that, but I will make up for yesterday. Let’s say I was not at my best. Please accept my apologies for my behaviour.”

Marisol smiled and offered. “Let’s start over.”

Just at that moment the waiter appeared and took their drink orders. To their credit, all ordered soft drinks.

The FBI agent cleared her throat and began. “Sam asked me to look at this file. I’m a criminal profiler.” She pulled out a map and continued. “Based on the reported disappearances, location and demographics, we may have a situation on our hands.”

Marisol raised an eyebrow. “How’s that?”

“The women are similar enough to each other and close enough geographically, that it is 99.99% probable that these individual occurrences are not random. We’re looking for one perp.”

“How do you know that?”

“Experience for one. We are looking for upwards of 40 women. There are several ways they disappear.”

Sam offered. “As I said yesterday, they have no documents, so the most common way is they move on to greener pastures. If INS grabbed them, they’d show up in the system. Another way is being lured into the sex trade. There are plenty of rings in the area, eager to grab up new faces. Willing or not, by the way.”

“So is that likely?”

The profiler stepped in. “Not in this case. The women are not differentiated enough.”

Marisol did not know where this was going, but it was getting more serious by the moment. “Can you dumb this down for me? I’m community events reporter-you know charity gigs, stuff like that. Maybe you should get a real journalist... ”

Ms Booth kept going. “Hooker rings are not too fussy about what their “employees” look like, nor are the customers for that matter. Different shapes and sizes are actually good for business. But these women are alike enough to be mistaken for sisters, in many cases. We believe they are being targeted. That cuts it down to one guy, most likely.”

“Ah. So he has certain preferences. He likes Latina women. So it’s probably a Latino guy, right?”

“Maybe-maybe not. He might be taking them because he likes them. That’s bad enough. But no one needs forty girlfriends, not even Hefner. My professional opinion? He’s doing this because he hates them. We won’t know for sure, until we find some of them-or him. Local police bust hooker operations all the time, so eventually some of these women would have turned up in the system. Whoever is taking them is making them disappear for good. And that is scary.”

Marisol nodded. “So-how do I fit into this?”

Sam stepped in. “Glad you asked. I made an ass of myself yesterday, but when I got home I realized you were right. These women have been forgotten. We’d like you to do a news segment on them-maybe someone out there can provide some leads?”

“Makes sense. But why me? My boss said you asked for me, specifically.”

The FBI agent explained. “We feel you can identify with them and their community. You speak Spanish so we can do a bilingual piece. I’ve talked to the station owner and he is on board.”

They both smiled awaiting an answer. Marisol probed further. “There are a couple more experienced reporters that can do this. There’s something else…”

Corinne nodded. “You have good instincts. Have a look at these case files.”

She scanned through the first 6 or 7 and at first nothing stood out. They were all of Mexican descent, all between 20 and 25. They did seem to look alike but only superficially. “So?”

Look again. Sam now began to point at the physical descriptions of those same women under the heading “Weight:”

She read. 220 pounds, 195 pounds, 210 pounds and so on. Now she got a bit tense. “Wait a minute. I get it. They are all like me, young, Latina and fat.” She patted her prominent paunch and sneered “This is why you called me to this meeting, not because you felt guilty.” She glared at Sam and said. “I thought you were sorry about that fat ass comment yesterday…”

 

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Chapter 10

 

Sam held up his hand. “I still feel bad about that. We did some checking and we know you are looking to do something meaningful. Either you get some leads, or maybe the doer will identify with you and call us. No one will call you a two-bit reporter then. Please consider it-if not for us, at least for them.”

Marisol pretend to pout a bit longer and finally said. “You’re right. I’ll do it. Besides-I guess I shouldn’t be offended if someone points out the obvious. I really am fat. No sense denying it. For once, I can turn it into an advantage. There’s something to be said for that.”

With the absolute worst timing the waiter came back and asked. “Will we be having lunch today?

The two law officers blanched a bit and Corinne grasped for the right thing to say.

Marisol let them off the hook. “I don’t know about those two but I am.” She winked at the waiter and saucily added. “You’d never know it from my girlish figure, but I like a good meal now and then. My friends will join me.” She looked over at their shocked faces. “Don’t worry I’ll put it on my expense account. Knock yourself out. I will.”

Lunch over, the three parted ways. Marisol ignored the fact it was a Saturday and immediately went to the station to prepare her clip. Tony was there and suggested a half hour call in style to fill it out a bit. Once done, she contacted the police who agreed to sit in and monitor the conversations.

Sunday night 7pm, the show began. “Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I am Marisol Iglesias here tonight to ask for your help. Behind her, a monitor began to show a series of images, of the missing women. She began to rhyme off the descriptions and last known sightings of each one, ending each segment with a plea to call in, with any scrap of information that might help.”

The show was interrupted at times by callers, most with little to add other than a sympathetic ear. Once the last girl was profiled, Marisol commented. “We think these women have been taken against their will. All by the same perpetrator. If you think you know who this sick coward is, please call. You are their only hope.”

A few more fluff calls and the show ended with nothing conclusive. Marisol was cleaning her desk off when the line buzzed. The operator said, “One more caller-want it?”

Marisol sighed and sat down. Soon as she clicked in, the voice on the other end asked. “You the one on TV just now? The fat one?”

She sighed.” Marisol Iglesias at your service. Do you have any useful information for us, or did you just call to insult me?”

“I do. You people don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Excuse me?

“There’s no kidnapper, because no one’s been kidnapped.”

Marisol was drawing a blank until she realized this was no ordinary caller. She waved to Det. Jonas in the corner and mouthed “Trace this call…”

He jumped up and made the motion to draw it out as long as possible. Carefully as he could he picked up another receiver to listen in.

She cleared her throat and chose her words carefully. “You seem sure of your facts-you know any of these women?”

A sinister laugh at the other end. “All of them. Like I said, they aren’t missing-I know where they are.”

“Maybe you could tell me…?”

A pause as the cop pleaded for more time. “Not over the phone. Meet me-in person. Just you and me.”

She paused. “You could just tell me now...”

“No. I want to see you in person. I’m sorry about the earlier comment. I will tell you everything, but just you. I feel very comfortable around women like you. Will you meet me?”

The detective listening in nodded to her. “We can do that. It will have to be a place where I’ll feel safe.”

“Okay. Food Court at Galleria Mall-in front of the pretzel booth. 8:30 pm tomorrow night.”

She agreed. “How will I know you?”

He laughed. “I’ll know you-I’ve seen you on TV remember? Wear something nice and tight like you have on now. Low cut top. No bra. I want to see your nips sticking out. And perfume-I like Chanel. Just so we’re straight: No cops or I don’t show. You’ll be safe there in public.”

He didn’t wait for any further input and the line went dead. Marisol looked to see if they had managed to trace the call. He shook his head and shrugged. “Not enough time.”

Then she asked. “What now?”

Jonas gave her a quizzical stare. “You meet him of course.”

Marisol shook her head. “Oh no. Did you hear him talking about me? I’m not doing anything…”

The detective calmed her. “Don’t worry it’s a public place. Forget what he said, you’ll be surrounded by cops. He won’t even know they are there. Just think-if you’re part of capturing a potential serial killer; you’ll be set for life. Not only that, we’ll make sure you get an exclusive on the story. Not just your station-you specifically.”

Now he had her. “I’m in, but you better be sure.”

“It’s not my first picnic-you’ll be safe. Dress like he says and you’ll be fine. Don’t act suspicious. You will be in the midst of lots of cops. Minute he sits down, we’ll grab him.”

She agreed, but had a very restless night. Despite that, she complied with his request. She’d dressed in a very short leather skirt and a skin tight scooped neckline sleeveless pullover. No bra. She’d argued about that one.

She was conscious of the fact that everyone in the mall would see them as well. She stuck out all over and it made her look even fatter than she was. A liberal layer of perfume-not Chanel; but she wasn’t shelling out good money to please a psycho. She checked the clock and seeing it was 7:30, she decided to leave. If she was early, so much the better.

Once in the parking garage of her building, she was about to get in her car, when something caught her eye. An old woman in a wheelchair was having trouble wheeling herself up the ramp to the street.

She had time, so went over to offer her assistance. “Here let me give you a hand.” She looked the woman in the face and suddenly froze. It was not a woman… The occupant of the wheelchair lashed out and she felt a brief tingle then darkness. The “old woman” stood quickly, placed her in the wheelchair, and dropped the Taser in her lap. Quickly, he held a cloth over her face. The chloroform did its work, as the mysterious figure rolled her out to a waiting van.

Meanwhile as the van sped away; Det. Jonas had secreted his team, waiting for the trap to spring. 8pm came, then 8:30. By 8:45 he had already sent a team to her apartment. No sign of her, but the sight of her car sent a chill though his spine. Door unlocked, purse inside, no sign of her. He swore silently at his stupidity for using a civilian. Not only that, he’d fallen for this ploy like a rookie. The perp had made sure half the cops in the city were in the wrong place. Whatever happened to Marisol now, was largely out of his control.

 

 

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Chapter 11

Several hours have passed. Marisol woke groggily. It took a minute or two for her to assess the situation. She was in some kind of cell. Not a proper jail cell, but an improvised mini bedroom-looked like the basement of a house. An old one, by the looks of the stone walls. No windows. Toilet and sink near the bed she’d woken in. She was completely naked and there was a sturdy chain fastened to her ankle. On the other side of the bed, a night table with a phone.

As if on cue, the phone rang. She let it ring at first, but it gave no sign of letup. Finally, she picked up, but said nothing. There was a stern male voice at the other end. “Took you long enough. I can see in there. If I call you, pick up or you’ll be punished!”

She began to tremble. “Who are you and what do you want from me?”

He snickered. “You’ll find out who I am soon enough. As for what I want-I think I want you. I like big fat girls like you and normally I don’t have trouble getting them to like me. But you-I have plans for you. I am disappointed. You didn’t wear the Chanel. Don’t disappoint me again.”

“Screw you, you sick bastard!” she shouted with a bravery that shocked her. “Let me go right now and I’ll get you some help.”

“No. You are the one who will need help, if you aren’t more polite.” The voice whispered this time. “I think it’s time to let you know who is in charge here.” Suddenly, her leg began to tingle painfully and the sensation quickly passed through her entire body. After a few seconds that seemed like forever, the pain subsided. She heard the voice through the receiver. “Pick up.”

She managed to wrestle the receiver to her ear and panted “Yes, I’m here.”

“Now you see-that chain on your leg is hooked up to an electric wire as it passes through the wall. That was the lowest voltage setting. If you continue to misbehave, it will get worse. If you act nice-I’ll do the same.”

She gaped for breath “In what way?”

“This doesn’t have to be a unpleasant experience. Try to indulge yourself. Tell me your favourite foods, I’ll bring them to you. It’s easier that way.”

She probed for more. “Sorry, but make what easier?”

“Glad you asked. I told you before I like big fat girls. But you aren’t ready yet. You need to fatten yourself up more. The faster you meet my expectations, the sooner this will be over.”

“Over? So you are doing this to punish me, yes? And then you will let me go?”

Mmmm-not right away. But you have my word, I will not keep you too long.”

The reporter was scared to ask what he intended to do when he was through with her. She tried not to panic, but needed to buy some time to think. “Okay-how much bigger would I need to be?”

“How much do you weigh now?”

 “287 pounds last time I checked.” she told him. No point in lying about it now.

A short pause. “Hmm double anyway, maybe triple.”

She laughed. “What good will that do? I’d be immobile at that point.”

The voice at the other end took on a sinister tone. “I like it. Immobile it is.” Then another short burst of pain. “Don’t laugh at me again. I’ll bring the food. You eat everything every time and we’ll get along just fine.”

The line went dead, as she looked around the room again. She felt the sturdy chain-no way she could break it. No, she would have to figure a way to get him to release her. For now, she’d pretend to comply. She had no idea why he wanted to fatten her up, but two obvious choices came to mind. Simple spite would be one. The other was to make her some kind of fantasy toy. The eventual outcome of that scenario was too gruesome to contemplate, so she tried to put it out of her mind.

Her thoughts were interrupted, as a small panel opened in the wall beside her bed. It was a remote controlled dumbwaiter. On it, sat a tray. On the tray was a bucket of what looked to be KFC and a box of Krispy Kreme donuts. In addition, the tray held a note, and a duotang folder.

She took the tray out. Grabbing the note it said. “Eat everything. 20 minutes. Read the folder. I am watching.”

She looked around for the signs of a camera, but otherwise did nothing. Her ankle began to tingle again and she quickly grabbed a piece of chicken. Oddly enough, she was hungry, so in no time she’d finished the entire bucket. She stood to get a glass of water and rubbed her full belly. She slid the tray to the end of the bed and belched softly. The phone rang. She picked up right away and the voice said. “Good-you are learning. Donuts too, all of them. Now.”

She began to protest “Look I’m full. I can’t…” Then a jolt-stronger this time. She had dropped the receiver, and struggled to pick it back up. By now, she had a donut in her hand and was munching away as she gasped. “Look I’m trying. Please…”

“Don’t try. All of them-you have five minutes left.” The line clicked as it went dead.

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Chapter 12

Now panicked, she began to wolf down the donuts with each hand. To her surprise, she managed to finish them all. The phone rang again, as she wiped a tear of pain from her cheek.

She picked up. He offered. “Good girl. Now we are getting somewhere. Stand up, let me see.” She did as ordered. She looked down at her belly herself and was shocked by how much it stood out.

“Return the tray and read the manual.” The line went dead again.

She did as instructed.

The first page was labelled. Rules for Guests. Guests? Prisoners, more like.

The next page had only one rule. “Obey any and all commands without question or expect punishment.” She knew now what that punishment was. For now, at least.

She turned the page. It began to list more rules.

Answer phone by second ring at all times.

Eat all food and drink provided in time allotted.

Privacy will be provided for toilet times and feminine hygiene. Note curtain. Five minutes max per time-abuse of this privilege will cause its retraction.

Regular weigh-ins and measurements will be required. You will receive instructions and necessary means as needed.

You are here to get fat. Make sure that you do all in your power to speed that up.

List any food allergies and special dietary needs on back page. Also, list favourite items and major dislikes. Within reason, these requests will be accommodated.

Entertainment like books and TV will be offered as a reward for cooperation and progress.

The last rule stuck in her mind. I have done this many times before. You are in good hands. If you cooperate fully, you will eventually be released unharmed.

She contemplated that last revelation. The first portion was quite likely true. The organization of this room was too complex to be done on the spur of the moment just for her. Add to that the missing girls for which her captor would likely be the culprit. The second part could not possibly be true. Of all those missing girls, not one had turned up dead or alive ever again. If he had released them at least one of them or her family would have contacted the authorities by now. Marisol was on her own and needed to get out of this herself somehow.

She thought a moment and wrote down her food choices. For now, why suffer? If he was going to make her get fatter, no point in gorging yourself on liver, right?

Next she scribbled a note, then left it on the tray when she put it in the dumbwaiter. She had barely let go when the panel closed and the mechanism whirred away.

The phone rang merely seconds later. The voice read out her note.”If you are doing this for sexual pleasure, then why not get it over with? I won’t resist. I may even enjoy it. Girls my size don’t get many offers after all. In fact I am a virgin.  I’d like to meet you face to face...”

He chuckled. “You get the prize. Most take days to get to this point. But your pleasure is not my immediate concern. I want this to be an experience that I will treasure. So I will contain myself until you are ready. I am going to turn out the lights.” The room went pitch black. He advised. “Hold up a number of fingers.”

She did so. He advised. 1 finger, middle digit right hand. Do not make that gesture again. I wanted you to know I can still see you, if I allow you some darkness to sleep. There is an infrared viewer. Sleep now. I will wake you for the next feeding.”

She stretched out under the blanket, but got no sleep. She must have dozed though, because it seemed like no time at all as the lights slowly raised. As advised, the panel opened and she was surprised to see a large chocolate shake and a large pizza. Again a note. “Eat all.” This time she managed to finish the lot. She put the tray in the dumbwaiter and the door closed again. In only seconds, the door popped open again. Two more shakes this time. Without question, she sucked them back and gasped as she finished the last. The door closed and she was dismayed to hear the dumbwaiter trundle down once more. This time she was relived to see it did not contain food. Instead, a note, a book of crosswords and a TV remote. The note read “Good girl! You will fatten quickly. As a reward I offer TV privileges and a crossword book. Such rewards can be withdrawn if needed. You will have two hours of free time then lights out.”

The “free time” was a myth. Around every half hour the familiar sound of the dumbwaiter would reveal something else to keep her belly painfully full and make her progressively fatter.

So it went on. Soon, Marisol had no idea what day or time it was. The TV only showed programs that had been TiVO’d months before. It was better than nothing. One mealtime, a scale appeared along with a tape measure a clipboard and a pen. It was obvious of the intent, so she put the scale on the floor and stood on it. The number settled on 326 pounds. In the time she’d been here she had gained 39 pounds. She wrote the figure on the clipboard and looked for the other data points. Bust: she measured it at 56”-a 3” increase. Hips: 63” also 3” bigger. Waist: 56” almost 7” bigger, partly through extra fat and partly through keeping it stretched tight with food. She sighed and looked around as she deposited the items back in the dumbwaiter. “So how am I doing, am I making you happy?”

There was no response. Instead the dumbwaiter re-opened. There was a tray of half dozen bacon cheeseburgers and three shakes Again the eternal note. “Fatter. Faster.” She as about to curse, when she felt the familiar tingle in her ankle and instead munched away. She managed to cram all of it into her vastly swollen belly and laid out on the bed to relax. Suddenly her TV went black. The phone rang.

“Only 39 pounds more. I am not pleased with this result. Therefore you lose 1 day of TV privileges.” Then the lights went out. She sat in the dark gently sobbing for a moment and without anything better to do quietly cried herself to sleep.

Not long after, the lights rolled on again. She sat and waited for the door to open and was greeting by dozen cupcakes. This time a beer pitcher full of chocolate shake was used to wash them down. She left a note on the plate. “This all you got. I was expecting a challenge.”

Scarcely had the door closed when it opened again. A note in return. I admire your spirit. Challenge accepted. There were three pies, cherry, apple and blueberry. She got them down too

She sighed as she pondered how much weight this meal alone would add to her already ponderous frame. At this rate, she would really be immobile. Then a glimmer of an idea.

The lights went out for bed and she began to count how long he was going let her to sleep between meals. She did it three times just in case. It seemed around 30 minutes. “Good.”

Next dark time, she counted out what she thought was about half the time and reached for the phone. It rang on the other end. She did not wait for him to answer. As soon as the receiver clicked she advised. “Bring more.” then hung up.

 

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Chapter 12

The request was not immediately granted. Apparently her host did not have a magic food machine. But ten minutes later there was a piping hot tray of lasagna, which she finished in 10 minutes. Then, a tray of cookies.

She belched softly and beckoned for more. This time a quart of milk and a box of chocolates. She tried not to smile but this time she was in control but he didn’t know it.

So the pace sped up. Her next weigh in 381 pounds, 61-65-69.

The next 428 65-73-73

Then 504 and 70-86-79

She had become an eating machine. Her next weigh-in proved more difficult. She was gradually becoming more immobile, but managed to struggle on the scale for what would prove to be the last time.

It took nearly five minutes for her to raise her bulk and meander over the scale. It read 616. She had no idea she now measured up at 78-106-87, she could no longer do the task on her own.

Marisol looked across the room at the mirror he kept there just out of reach but in full view from the scale. She figured he’d put it there so she could check herself out as a form of torment.

Nevertheless she did look. No one who knew her could possibly recognize her now. Her face had cheek bulges as large as softballs but they were sagging into floppy jowls now. There was no point in calling what had developed under her jaw a double chin. There was so much fat under there competing for space with her 24” neck, she could not chew her food without looking up now.

It was a chore to do so. Each of her arms was 30” around and lifting their 20-pound weight to her face really taxed her strength. She’d wanted big boobs but not like this. The 78” mams were no longer globes, sagging under their massive weight into 28” long tubes that bounced around at every motion. Under that her belly was sticking out and sagging down so far that she couldn’t touch the front of it any more. Combined with the extra weigh on her 50” thighs she was having trouble moving all the flesh to relieve herself. Out back she would have to assume the rest was the same, because she neither neithersee nor feel the 20”  shelf she’d developed.

Now she had to stand with her legs so far apart she could barely get on the scale. She actually almost feel off. Maybe that would help. “Um-sir? This scale is getting too small to stand on.”

No reply. But a note. “No need to weigh. Takes too long and I can see it for myself.”

Still, he kept feeding her. She thought it may have been a day or two later. The feeding door opened and she struggled to get up, but failed. Three more times, without any luck.

The phone rang and she managed to struggle over to pick it up.

He growled . “Your food is getting cold.”

 

She sighed. “I know and I’m starving. Sorry honey, I’m just too big to get up now. You’ll need to feed me if you want me any bigger.” Then a familiar tingle in her leg.

“Go ahead zap me. It isn’t going to get me up any quicker. If you want me bigger I’ll do it, just bring the food. And a bedpan, especially if you don’t turn that juice off.”

The line went dead.

The door at the end of the hall began to open a minute or two later. She steeled herself for the sight of the monster who had kept her here so long.

No food. There was a bed pan however.

He handed it to her and turned his back while she saw to her basic needs. He took the pan over to the bathoom and came back with a wet cloth and towel to clean her hands.

Now she checked him out. He was nothing like she expected. Young, maybe late twenties, blond hair just over the ears. Slight mustache. About 6 feet tall, nice physique, blue eyes. In other words the kind of guy women drool over if he walks into a room.

She gasped. “My word you are…gorgeous if I may be so bold.” She shook her head in amazement.

He snickered. “So are you. Better than I’d hoped.”

She tensed a bit at his approach. She offered. I don’t know why you feel you need to do this. You could have any woman you wanted just for the asking. You didn’t need to force…

He laughed. “Oh. You are so naïve. I didn’t force anyone, well except you maybe. The others all came willingly.”

Despite herself she scoffed.

“I hardly think so.”

He shook his head. “It’s true actually.  I work for INS. So I could pick up the choicest illegals for myself. I always went for the fat ones, who would not object if I asked them to get a little bigger to keep from being deported. I’d fatten them up for my own pleasure and once I was done with them, send them home. They never complained. I fed them and clothed them and gave them a roof over their heads. That’s really all they got from their employers for changing poopy diapers all day.

“How-how big would they get. Were any of them as big as me?”

He nodded. “All of them. Some a little bigger.”

Marisol listened to his story. She knew then he was lying. No one bigger than her could get out that door let alone in a vehicle to be transported across the border. She was pretty sure everyone who’d been imprisoned here was disposed of permanently once he was tired of them. And she was next.

She was just about to suggest that he get this over with when he started to disrobe. I think you are about as fat as I can get you sweetheart. Let’s get this show on the road.

He came closer with a small remote in his hand. He gave her one more jolt to see if she would sit up. She gasped for air but lay there. “Yep. You’re pretty well immobile honey.”

As he started to get on top of her she asked. “If I can’t get up how do you plan to get me out?”

He pinned her shoulders and laughed. “Same as the rest. One piece at a time.”

That was all she needed to hear to spur her into action. She couldn’t overpower him, but gravity could. She performed the maneuver she had been practicing on the sly for weeks. Quickly reaching down she pulled he electrified chain up and over her “host”. She held on for dear life as he looked at her in confusion.

Wrapping the chain around them both accomplished two things. First it kept him from leaping up. Second, he could not use the remote to shock her without shocking himself.

But he was young and strong and she could not hold on for long. But she had a plan for that too. Only one chance to do it right.

She kicked one leg up and pushed his shoulder at the same time. As hoped, momentum and gravity did the rest. The enormous girl rolled over and fell face down on the floor.

Well not quite on the floor. He hit the floor first, as she slammed into him a second later. She was prepared for a struggle as he tried to get her bulk off him. But 600-plus pounds dropped from 2 feet is no match for a human rib cage. She heard the bones breaking and stared for a moment as a trickle of blood ran out his nose and the light faded from his eyes.

The trick had worked. Now how to get out? She crawled over and found his coat. There was a cell phone in it. She didn’t have the password but didn’t need it to call 911.

The number rang once. "Please trace this signal. I...need help."

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Epilog

It took about half an hour for the cops and an ambulance to get to her location, a remote farm near Buffalo.

Jonas was there. He interviewed her in the ambulance and confirmed her story. “He actually screwed up. Disappeared, and as an INS agent we needed to find him. We figured he’d been murdered by one of the cartels at first. Then Corinne had a brainstorm. We figured whoever was taking these girls was probably an agent. Didn’t take too long to figure out, once we knew. We just had no idea where to look. This house must have been rented under an assumed name. We’ll figure it out eventually. Did he tell you what he did with the girls?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry. I don’t think there is hope.”

Jonas looked down. “I see. Well we will search this place from one end to the other just in case.”

“But why did he do this?”

Jonas elaborated. “Near as we can tell. Some kind of twisted revenge. He was married to a girl from Cancun. He met her on vacation, but she took off the minute she got her green card.”

Marisol sighed. “I’m so fat now. I’ll lose my job. No one will ever want me now either.”

Jonas shook his head. “Your family will. They will be waiting for you once we get back to New York. There’s one more. You up for a visitor?”

“Who?”

“Cam-your cameraman. He was frantic about this. He even took out a loan for a reward for your safe return. Were you and he...involved?”

She blushed. “Just friends, or at least that’s what I thought. Show him in.”

Cam practically sprinted across the field and came in. The pair hugged and he started firing one question after another.

She held a finger to his lips. “I just have two questions for now. Do you love me?”

He nodded. “With all my heart. I’ve wanted to tell you, for ages.”

“Okay question two, and don’t lie to me. All those times you were giving me food. You really were trying to fatten me up weren’t you?”

Again a nod. “Okay close that door and lock it.” She opened the blanket slightly and revealed how much bigger she was now. “If you want to give us a try, I must admit I have feelings for you too. As for my figure, you’ll need to put up with the bonus plan. For a while, at least. The rest we can figure out as we go along.”

Jonas sipped his coffee as she watched the ambulance rocking to and fro. The driver walked by and he grabbed his shoulder. “If I were you, I would not go in there right now. Give them-oh about twenty minutes I would say.”

The driver looked at him and asked. “What’s going on?”

Jonas chuckled. “Unless I miss my guess, I’d say they were making up for lost time.”

The End

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