Eloise's Interview - Part 1

“You've no idea what it's like,” Eloise confessed, “just laying here, helpless, watching yourself grow as they pump you full of stuff. They're relentless!”

Eloise's speech was short and breathy, almost exhausting, as her monstrous size and weight took its heavy toll.

“Can you believe all of this was because of some parking tickets?” She began. “It was a few days before my twentieth birthday. I had a load of cards in the post, and tucked amongst them was a summons. A summons for stupid parking tickets. I just never paid them - I thought they'd go away.”

However, they didn't ‘go away.’

“So they offered me two choices. A huge fine and some time behind bars, or, well, I could join the Volunteer Research Program. So I put my name down for that. I was broke anyway, and the thought of being trapped in prison really didn't sit well with me.”

“It's kind of ironic when I think of what I was desperately trying to avoid. I can't move. I can barely even wiggle my toes. I can hardly breathe under all… all this. And it's never enough. A few weeks, maybe a month or two in the nick would have been a walk in the park in hindsight.”

“So about three months passed before I heard anything about the Research Program. In fact, I had pretty much forgotten all about it. Then I got a letter telling me that they had ‘analysed my data’, and that I should report to the nearest local clinic to be assigned. I packed an overnight bag, as the letter requested, and that was it. To be honest, it was actually quite exciting - I assumed it would be a little weekend away. A kind of mini adventure, in the name of science.

“That day was the last time I saw any of my family and friends. They don't allow visitors here under any circumstances, and I suppose you can see why. It's maximum security. I'm allowed to keep in touch, but I can only say so much. Correspondence is what takes up most of my spare time these days - obviously I can't write or type anymore due to my size, and the short breaks I have between feedings are barely long enough to let me get over my glutted exhaustion. When I do get the chance, the nurses will kindly take down a few bits for me and draft up a letter or two. I wish I could do more, but that’s how it is now."

“It genuinely startled me just how much data the department has access to. Not just my age and height, but like, everything. My shopping habits, my dining habits, medical data, education, relationships - I began to wonder if they knew me better than I did!”

“The initial task was simple - pig-out, basically. They'd take my vitals before and after my ‘weekend’ visit, and that would be that. I wasn't going to refuse, either. I love to eat, something my slightly chubby figure would have confirmed, back then. Social expectations and shame do a lot to keep people in line with their habits. This was for science though! So I did as I was told, and got stuck in. It was glorious.”

“I remember the staff would look at each other, then check their notes, nodding approvingly. I haven't exactly been an overachiever, so it felt good to be doing good, y’know? A weekend of over-indulgence wasn't going to exactly ruin my figure either, by my reckoning, so I made the most of it.”

“By the end of the weekend I felt quite sick, I must admit. However, the staff were incredibly pleased with my results - whatever they were - and would I be willing to stay on for another week?"

“The accommodation here is awesome, in fairness. You aren't allowed your phone or internet access, but to begin with, they assign you these sweet little apartments with everything you could want. It was either this, or go back to my parents place where they'd hound me about getting a job. So I said yes to another seven days on the program.”

“It's hard to say how it spiralled. It's like a flipped version of the outside here; instead of being demonised and bullied for gaining weight or being greedy, it was praised, encouraged. I could sit and watch movies all day with nobody to hassle me. Getting out of bed wasn't even compulsory, I could just lay there and read or play games whilst happily grazing the hours away. It was bliss. There was a lot about my situation at the time, as well as my nature in general, that took a shine to that lifestyle. It was a form of escape, y’ know?”

Just then, there was the sound of a delicate bell ringing high up on a wall somewhere. Immediately it was followed by the contrasting low rumble of Eloise’s stomach. She looked at me and smiled apologetically. That was the end of the first part of our interview - my fifteen minutes were up.

Two primly dressed nurses in pale pink uniforms made their way into the vast room. Standing back, one nurse immediately took my place at Eloise's side, overreaching to insert a soft, red hose into the mouth of her subject. The other nurse poured two substantial jugs of thick, creamy, heavy liquid into the hopper of one of the feeding machines, and proceeded to activate it, carefully checking the settings in the process. The contraption hummed to life, gently gurgling as it began pumping its calorific load towards Eloise.

“You'll have to come back in an hour or so,” the more plump of the two nurses told me, “although she may be a little fatigued afterwards.”

“Do you mind if I stay and watch a while?” I asked.

The nurse smiled and shrugged, before attending to her duties. Other nurses entered the room, some equipped with more brimming jugs of thick, slopping liquid, and others equipped with foaming buckets, sponges and towels. Finding a chair to one side, I sat down and watched a hive of activity unfold. At one point I counted nine individuals attending to this one giant woman at the same time. Nine!

I could just about make out Eloise's chubby hands wriggling, as more creamy fluids were added to the hopper of her feeding pump. The huge mounds and soft rolls of her body quivered from the slightest movements she made. She may have been wiggling her feet, too, but it was almost impossible to see them, swallowed as they were in the cavernous swells of her legs.

More was the last thing this poor girl needed. The last remaining traces of her physical form - of her purpose as a human - were being swallowed up, swamped, buried by the incredulous extremes of a body pushed too far. Just when would she be big enough, I wondered?