Part 3 of 3

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It’s Trey again. I now stand outside a house in the Compton neighborhood of Los Angeles. I’m in my underwear and banging on my girlfriend Natalia’s door. It’s still early, so my banging wakes some neighbors. I don’t care. I continue. Then, a patrol car, with two police officers inside, comes to end the racket. When they approach, they threaten me to stop the noise or by taken into custody. I’m a famous actor. I got a reputation to maintain. Ain’t nobody got time fo dat. I quiet the noise and explain to them what happened. The officers offer to give me a ride home. While driving, they finally recognize me, but not as the star I am. They see me as the Chubby Chaser from the newspaper. They laugh.

Before they reach my house, they stop at s donut shop. They offer me a donut. My big stomach wants me to say yes, but I decline. They proceed to my condo. I can hear them laughing as they drive away. I go to my unit. I then realize that I forget my keys at Natalia’s. I’m pissed. Luckily, I can smell my brother inside. I knock and he answers. He notices my underwear and starts to laugh. I punch him in the face, not once, not twice, but five good times before he falls. He’s confused why. I spot the newspaper on the coffee table.

“Only you could have taken that picture, Chet,” I yell and point at the paper.

“Okay, I admit. I did it, but it got me fifty thousand dollars,” Chet tells me, “No paparazzo has ever been able to get a good picture of you, but I had nothing to do with that headline though.”

“Get out now. Take your money and leave,” I say. I point to the door.

“Alright fine, but I was trying to help you out,” Chet replies as he walks out of the door.

Man do I hate him. And he wonders why I send money to my parent and sister but not him. Had I known that in the days to come, Chet’s dumb action would actually help me.

I resume filming for the fall season. After half of the season premier show done in just one day (I’m just that good), I walk to the catering table. I hope to see Natalia, but some dude tends it. I ask where Natalia is. He doesn’t know. I eat some food while I try to call her. I call her house, but there’s no answer. The guy offers me more food because I quickly finish my first plate. It’s not as good as Natalia’s cooking, but hell, I’m hungry. Anyway, I call her cell phone.

It goes to voicemail. Her outgoing me message is directed to me. She says, “Since I gave everyone I care for my new number, all I have to say to you Trey is have good life. I’m leaving LA to go back to where. There’s too much drama out in Hollywood and ain’t nobody go time fo dat.”

This saddens me. I feel tears coming to my eyes but I don’t cry. I ask for more food. I don’t care how subpar it is, I just devour it. As I eat, my belly swells. The button on my pants gets tighter until it finally pops. I’m not full, so I keep eating. Then, the director calls for me to return to the set. He notices that I’m am now fatter than when I was last on camera. With a simple order, I act in a spontaneous eating scene. They strategically place the cameras so that the table hides my now humungous stomach. I get to eat and act at the same time; however, I wish Natalia and her food were here for this.

With the season premier done, I leave the studio lot, en route to my car. I’m stopped by three fat chicks, an elephant, a hippo, and a pig. They inquire about the Chubby Chaser photo. They ask how Natalia is doing. I tell them the unfortunate news. They sorrowfully offer to take me to dinner. My belly rumbles loudly, so I accept. We all happily waddle to my car and ride to the nearest all-you-can-eat buffet. The four of us eat everything there, but only I seem to put on weight. My pants are now ripped down the legs from my growing legs. My big bloated belly is now exposed because it expands from under my shirt. To avoid indecent exposure, they surround me with their voluptuous bodies. I belch repeatedly and permit one of the ladies drives my car and me back home.

Weeks pass becoming months. More and more eating scenes are added because I put on more and more weight. The people in wardrobe have to tailor my costume each day, letting them out to allow for my constantly growing belly. Soon my arms grew too big for sleeves on the shirts and my legs and ass are too big for the pants. Still, the show gets more popular. The staff does anything necessary to cater to me and my gigantic appetite. I started to suddenly eat during scenes that had nothing to do with food, like funeral scenes. On top of that, the fat women are flocking to the Chubby Chaser (yours truly). Near nightly, one of them takes me out to eat. I save so much money.

The more I eat, the fatter I get. I can help myself. My eyes are nearly closed permanently from how big my cheeks get. I grow about four extra chins. I could wear a double d in bras now. My belly stretches far beyond my imagination. In turn, my waist size is phenomenal. My legs look like giant pillars, holding up my massive body. I don’t even know where my tail went, for I no longer feel it. I do not step on a scale, because my gut blocks the display from view; however, the shows staff hires me a person physician and he weighs me at 742 pounds.

That number triggers the resignation of the caterers and the wardrobe specialists. Also the writing staff quits when they realize there would be more work to write in order to compensate for all of my extra weight. Not knowing how to explain it, the director quits too. This just leaves the producer and me halfway through the second season.

“Trey I’m sorry, but this show must end,” she tells me.

“What?” I ask.

“May I be honest with you?” the producer wonders.

I struggle to move my head in a nod.

“I knew this was going to happen.” She tells me, “I should’ve stopped you a long time ago.”

I wonder, “You knew what.”

She elaborates, “I knew that you’ll eventually get too fat and it would jeopardize the show.”

“Now wait a minute,” I say, “You told me that you wanted a fat guy.”

“Yeah, but there’s fat and then there’s too fat,” she replies, “Frankly, you crossed that line a long time ago.”

“And you didn’t warn me? Why?” I question.

“The show’s popularity distracted me,” the producer admits, “I’m sorry, but your gravy train has now derailed. Pack it up and leave the lot before I call security and a crane to remove your fat ass.”

That’s it. My future has shattered under my own weight. I sadly exit the studio. While walking to the door, my fat ass spots a leftover sandwich. I take it and sadly eat it. I retreat to my condominium. As I struggle through my front door, it hits me that I’m too fat. I sit on the couch. Its springs break. Depression now sets in. I take a chair from my dining room table and place it in front of the refrigerator. I proceed to munch on everything within it. As I eat, tears flow down my face. I eat and cry until I fall out of the chair. I sleep on the floor. I fart and wake myself the next morning. I continue to binge eat what’s left in my fridge. My enormous stomach rips out of my t –shirt. My boxers struggle for dear life to cover my loins. I return to grabbing food from the fridge. I find a container in the back. I wonder what it is. It has Natalia’s name on it.

“This is your entire fault,” I say to the container, “If only I knew where you were.” I open the container to see what’s in it. It’s old gumbo. I say, “That’s where you are.” Then I eat the old, slightly-molded gumbo.

Lucky, I still have enough star power to catch a flight on a private jet to New Orleans. Now that I’m here, I’m lost. I still haven’t a clue as to where Natalia is.

A boy comes up to me and say, “Hey. I know you from TV.”

“Yeah,” I agree.

“You looked a lot skinnier on TV though,” he continues, “Is that why you show was cancelled?”

“What do you know? You’re just a kid,” I angrily reply.

“You’d be surprised as to what I know,” the kid boasts.

“Really?” I say, “Well, have you seen a lioness …”

“Lioness?” he interrupts me, “The only lioness in town owns a restaurant called Fat Nat’s.”

I respond, “Could you take me there?

He says, “It’s not too far from here. Follow me.”

It takes me an hour to walk three and a half blocks. We arrive to an empty restaurant before it opens. I wait outside until she comes to open for business. Before unlocking the door, she surveys her surroundings. I approached her. Fearfully, she closes her eyes and hits me in my flabby back with her stun gun. Fortunately, I’m far too fat to feel its effects.

I laugh for it tickles, jiggling my fat with the electric pulses.

“I know that laugh,” Natalia replies. She opens her eyes and says, “Trey? What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for you. I need your help,” I tell her.

“I see your show has been cancelled,” she says with a slight smile, “Come inside and I’ll get you something to eat.”

“Uh …” I say as I start to deny her offer, but my large hungry tummy cannot be denied. I follow her inside of the restaurant.

I sit in the dining area as she goes to prepare a meal for me. I wait patiently as she leaves and returns with a plate with a T-bone steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, and peas. I savagely eat the food. Unfortunately, it does nothing to satisfy my hunger from my trans-America flight. Natalia returns to the kitchen then returns to my table with another plate of fried fish, sweet potatoes, and corn. I ravage that plate too. It makes my extra large gut grow a bit. I release a loud belch and Natalia takes it as her signal to bring in another plate with fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, and collard greens. I devour that plate too. It finally fills me initially. Natalia proceeds to bring plate after plate of items featured on her menu. My stomach grows with each plate of delicious food. I can feel my gut push against the table in front of me, moving it with every bite. After I’ve tasted ever item on the menu, my belly now touches the floor. I drink some sweet tea and it knocks the table from in front of me. I finally and blissfully concede, having 12 plates. I am full.

Natalia stands by my side. She rubs my full gut and says, “I really miss this.”

I fight for consciousness. I respond, “This is why I’m here. Just look at me. Look at all of me.”

She asks, “Is this what you and the people at the studio wanted?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, I don’t know,” I tell her, “But what I do know is that you have to remove your spell from me. I don’t think I can get any bigger without severely compromising my life.”

Natalia thinks. Her feelings for me instantly come back to her. She knows that I’m still a good catch. She smiles and says, “Okay, when the two of us become one, the spell’s effects will be undone.”

“That’s it?” I say astonished. I fall to sleep before I can further protest.

When I awaken, my humungous body lies on the floor as Natalia goes to the door and let in a judge she knows. The tiger stands over me bewildered. Natalia tells him to marry us right there. He asks if I consent. I grunt in agreement. He proceeds to marry us, pronouncing the lioness and the husky man and wife. She kisses me and gives me a nice belly rub.

Once my food digests, I’m finally able to stand. We go back to Natalia’s house in the bayou. There, I tell her my plan not to return to Hollywood. She loves it and encourages me to just stay there and eat while she takes great care of me. Her restaurant does well, so she’s able to take care of me financially too. At the end of her work day, she returns home and feeds me any food that is left over. Although, she lifted the spell, I still continue to get bigger. My limbs expand the greater widths as well as my belly.

After a year, I finally stop gaining weight. Curious, Natalia makes arrangements to have me airlifted to a truck stop and weighed. The flight is so fun. The helicopter lowers me onto a truck scale. It releases the harness and my weight is tabulated. After a minute, the weight display reads 1,259 pounds. A grin comes across my fat face.

I’m airlifted home. Natalia waits for me. I tell her the number. She hugs as much of my belly as she can. She then goes for a snack/meal that she prepared for me. As I scarf down the food, I watch television. We look at the entertainment news. The reporter announces my former show is now returning with a new actor playing the lead. I’m pissed. I get even angrier when I learn that the new actor is an unknown amateur. I want to turn off the TV, but it’s wedged under my ass. (Don’t ask me how.) The reporter goes on to show a picture of him, stating he even looks just like me. Natalia and I are stunned because it’s my brother Chet. He put on some weight for the role, now weighing 400 pounds of fat and belly. Natalia unplugs the TV.

I say out of disgust to my wife, “I would still have that role if you never casted that spell on me.”

“I have a confession,” Natalia admits, “I was never good at witchcraft.”

“What the hell are you saying?” I angrily ask.

She tells me, “No spell I ever casted worked.”