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Kit Wessell flicks his cigarette butt into a hobo’s change-cup as he curses at his cell phone. “You better have fucking found her, sweetheart, or you’re never working in TV again!” He hangs up, elbowing a kid aside to steal the cab stopping for an old lady. Kit doesn’t care, all Kit cares about is his show, FOREVER YOUNG. If the ratings keep going down he won’t make it to the holy grail of syndication. “I won’t let it happen!” he tells himself, “You can’t kill Kit Wessell!”
It was a hit idea, take a bunch of obese, spoiled teen girls and follow them as they plan their 16th birthdays. It was unique, people couldn’t get enough of those fat brats, but then the obese-positive SJW movement started and now every other show is about fat women. Ugh! Kit hates fat women, they make him puke, which is possibly why he’s so angry even when it’s making him a lot of money. Now though his show might be actually axed due to lack of ratings. They’ve tried cancelling him dozens of times but he perseveres. You can’t kill Kit Wessell! He’s certain a new viral star is the answer, people are already over their last chick, a 510lbs Russian socialite who went through her daddy’s money like it was a box of donuts. He needs someone more spoiled, more vacuous, more BIG.
He arrives at work, already having a bad day. His Denny’s next door is closed, he dropped his cellphone and apparently a gas line burst so there’s a terrible smell in the building. After huffing up the stairs (elevators broken) to his agency’s office he barks at his Assistant Producer. “Okay, where is she?” This new girl they’ve found is supposed to be his next hit, she could save his show and his career.
“Her father is in your office, he’s very excited, he already brought in the home video and his lawyers are here to oversee the release forms signing.”
Kit enters the office, suddenly a much nicer person.
“Knock knock!”
Mr. Walker waits with his legal entourage. Kit shakes Mr. Walker’s hand. It’s hard to define his age, he seems young but has an elderly way about his walk, as if his spine is bent and he’s lived a difficult life.
“My little Abby is so excited for this opportunity I tell you.”
“So she’s not here?”
“No she’s extremely busy, but she’s SO excited to celebrate her 16th birthday on your show, Mr. Wessell. She’s keen for the audience to see her luxurious lifestyle.”
Kit suppresses his slimiest smile, giving instead an insincere sneer.
“So tell me about your little angel.”
“Oh, she’s wonderful. Always laughing, always enjoying life. She’s so positive, too, so much self-love. She loves fashion, the beach, and her birthdays.”
“And, of course, our show has a weight-positive slant so I have to ask, it’s true she’s over 500lbs?”
“Oh yes, she hit 500lbs a while ago I can promise you that!”
Kit is imagining a star more viral than their most popular breakout, the 420lbs oil-heiress Cece Lecrémeux, now an Instagram darling. This Abby girl is going to make him rich! Well, richer! He can already tell it’ll be easy to make the audience hate her!
“Perfect! And I hear you brought the home video of Abby as a little girl?”
Mr. Walker snaps his fingers and members of his legal team step forward. It’s more than just old home video, there are several hard drives of footage, stacks of photo albums and boxes of old keepsakes, childhood outfits, drawings and toys.
“My Abby is special and complex, it’ll take more than a simple clip for your audience to appreciate her. Besides, she’s rather keen to show off every aspect of her wonderful life.”
The two parties’ legal teams share short conversation before Kit and Mr. Walker each sign NDAs and a few other boilerplates.
“Great, I’ll have my PA comb through this stu --”
“We’ll start with the first video I ever made of my precious Abby” Mr. Walker interrupts, signalling one of his guys to bring up a film on their tablet, “I feel it sums up who she is at heart.”
The film starts in a hospital ward…
~~~
Mrs. Walker is in terrible pain. None of her other pregnancies were like this. Her boys were so good, trouble-free with nice quick deliveries. This one though… No matter what Mrs. Walker eats she never gains any weight. She’s haggard and pale, weak all the time, dizzy, her heart feels taxed. Her little one gets bigger though, she feels like she’s carrying a baby elephant. She’s very healthy, always kicking and thrashing and sometimes Mrs. Walker thinks she feels biting.
“Ok you’re ready, take a deep breath.”
Mrs. Walker feels alone, no matter how frail she grows her husband only cares about his soon-to-be princess. Now he’s shoving that goddam camera in her face.
“Hurry up, babe! We’re dying to meet our newest, favourite family member!”
A sharp pain tears through her, like a uterus on fire, this friggin kid is trying to claw its way out! She hears a wet, ripping sound and through her failing epidural the numb, sickening tug is quickly becoming a searing sting.
“That’s it come on baby, come on my love!”
“What do you think I’m doing?”
“I’m not talking to you, bitch, you just hurry and push!”
Soon it’s all over, Mrs. Walker is practically tore in two, a gasping, sub-living pulp of woman. There’s blood everywhere and surgeons prepare to stitch her body together like a creation of Frankenstein’s.
A sweet pink, huge thing wriggles in her Daddy’s arms. It looks like he’s cradling a swaddled pink armful of jello, a squelch in ‘human’ form. The baby is about the size of a beach ball. Daddy has decided to name her Abigail, which he read means father’s joy.
“Look how beautiful she is, my Abby.” Daddy coos over his new little girl. “She’s like a perfect angel.”
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!
“She’s hungry… hey come on, don’t just lie there, your daughter needs feeding! Do your job!”
He places the bloated monstrosity of a newborn heavily on his wife’s abused body, crushing her stomach. She screams as baby Abby viciously clamps onto her nipple. Tears shine her face as the greedy child sucks and slurps noisily like some feeding calf. Her tiny newborn hands dig into mother’s poor, appropriated titties, gripping greedily. Abby drains her, Daddy smiling blissful.
Hours later we’re at the newborn nursery, all the babies sleep peacefully in their medical cribs. Daddy leans over his darling Abby, her blubbery body pressing against the edges of her unit. She sleeps happily, full not only from mommy’s milk but 7 wet nurses. She snores heavily, her fat body breathing gently.
“Isn’t she incredible?”
Mommy is there too, Daddy points the camera to get her reaction. She fakes a smile through her sunken, pallor. She wants to sleep, sleep forever, but he forced her out of recovery to worship their daughter.
The doctor returns with several of his colleagues, they all look nervous.
“Okay, Mr and Mrs Walker, the first thing we want to say is that this isn’t necessarily something to worry about--“
“Sorry, what isn’t something to worry about?”
“… Seriously? Abby’s weight, she’s 104lbs.”
“So she’s big.”
“No, she’s not big. She’s TEN times the size of a baby we would call big.”
“Typical quack doctors with their rules.”
“All that aside, although we can’t explain why, it’s becoming more and more common for girls to be born at extreme weights and many go on to live happy lives. The best course of action is to start her dieting now--”
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!
Abby is awake, her sausage arms and legs waving wildly. Daddy scoops up her un-swaddled body.
“Oh now look what you did, you upset her with what you were saying. She feels your negative energy.”
“Please, Mr. Walker, she needs to lose weight or it could lead to goodness knows what.”
Daddy backs up, holding crying pear-shaped Abby against his chest, protecting her.
“She’s special, she needs to be taken care of by someone who understands her!”
“But, Mr. Walker, these girls almost always come with other bodily side effects especially when they’ve eaten--“
As if to demonstrate his point, baby Abby releases a monstrous fart accompanied by a spray of milky brown shit. It’s blasts everywhere, over the assembled doctors, nurses, and mommy plus every poor wriggling baby in their cribs. They all scream as Abby’s shit scolds them. Nurses and midwives rush to help the children but slip sharply on the shit-smeared floor, some twisting their ankles, some smacking their heads. Mommy’s eyes are seriously burnt. The main doctor, speaking at the time, gets a mouthful of shit causing him to vomit uncontrollably over a newborn, now wriggling in a swamp of filth.
Instead of staying with this mess and noise Mr. Walker takes his darling girl out of the room.
“There’s a store downstairs my little special one,” he rests on her his gift of a plush, toy elephant, “Daddy will get you all the pop and chocolate and chips and gifts you need.”
Abby giggles, snuggling up to Daddy’s chest. She already knows this life is gonna be easy!
~~~
Kit is speechless. He can’t believe the video he’s just seen. He can’t believe anyone would show that to him, but here’s Mr. Walker smiling proudly as if they’ve just watched his daughter win an Olympic medal. He wonders if it gets worse than this, and if so how can he make a show like this? That’s not a moral question, by the way, he’s literally wondering how he can market it.
“Well--”
“Isn’t she great? There’s plenty more where that came from. I’ve got footage of everything, her Christmases, her trips, her first day of school, her last day of school, those are the same day by the way, her grandma’s funeral, everything!”
“You’re organised.”
“Yeah, well Abby has always wanted to be famous. Before your show accepted her I’d hired a film crew to make a documentary about her. It was Abby’s idea, she’s so smart, she wants all people to see how great and beautiful she is. Such kindness, sharing her gifts with the world--”
Kit holds back his exasperation, a creature this disgusting wants to be the next Beyonce?
“-- so we already did all the interviews for the doc but you can use them if you want, free of charge.”
His associate works the tablet, switching over to a talking-head shot of some maid. Kit’s initially uninterested but then he sees the crew did all the interviews in front of a green screen, meaning he can easily insert it into his own show.
“We talked to everyone, her family, her servants, her friends. Wanna see a quick cut?”
Kit gives him the go-ahead. As each person speaks their name and association to Abby reads at the bottom of the screen.
KAYDEN WALKER - BIG BROTHER: Yeah, Abby is… different.
GABRIELLA PÉREZ - HEAD MAID: Everything about her, puta gorda. that girl, she eat eat eat, look for boys, eat eat eat.
ELAINE WALKER - MOTHER: I imagined a darling little girl, a ballerina, or a doctor like me.
KAYDEN: When my little sister was born, everything… it changed.
ELAINE: I wasn’t imagining her, not like that.
GABRIELLA: Cerdo malvada.
KAYDEN: Everything was fun before, with me and my brothers. We used to play and have friends over and see our other family and it was… it was happy.
ELAINE: I thought she was sick at first, because she ate so much, and her diapers were always full and vile.
GABRIELLA: The child not stupid, instead smart like snake. She learn from the day one, she learn she in charge.
KAYDEN: She would wake us all at every hour of the night.
GABRIELLA: Nothing she could not have.
ELAINE: No matter how much she ate, or how bad her diapers were, we could never say no to her.
KAYDEN: Every special event became about celebrating her.
ELAINE: Anyone who said no to her would… well, it wasn’t worth saying no to her.
KAYDEN: We never said no.
GABRIELLA: It was her father, he make everything about her.
KAYDEN: When it became clear no help was enough, they pulled me and my brothers out of school.
ELAINE: It didn’t even matter when I went blind.
KAYDEN: I never graduated or got to go to college, no job or life outside of Abby.
GABRIELLA: My maids start turning up with the black eyes, I thinking is normal, their boyfriends hitting them. Then I start to thinking it is someone else…
ELAINE: She was 6, I was changing her diaper, she’d just had a 16 hour curry binge and farted in my face.
GABRIELLA: It is only maids who work with the little one, they are only ones who come in with the injuries.
ELAINE: The pain was unbearable, but nobody would drive me to the hospital.
GABRIELLA: It is only maids who make the little one angry, these are the only ones who come in with the injuries.
ELAINE: He didn’t care that I couldn’t see anymore, being blind didn’t matter, I still had a job to do.
KAYDEN: It’s not worth saying no.
GABRIELLA: I thinking am going to complain one day, then maid quits, young girl who was not ready for job. She quits and yells at the little one, makes her cry.
ELAINE: I’m completely sightless now, but sometimes I hear things…
KAYDEN: I forget what Christmas was like.
GABRIELLA: I try to find the young maid after that, I go to her house, she is not there.
ELAINE: I’m not sure, but sometimes it’s just me and him and Abby and… it sounds like…
GABRIELLA: No one has seen her since then, is assume she go home. No sign of her though.
ELAINE: I don’t even want to think about what it sounds like… I’m sure they’re not…
KAYDEN: I forget what it’s like to have fun.
GABRIELLA: I tell my new maids, to be careful, do not be alone with either of them.
KAYDEN: Can I go? I don’t want to talk about this anymore.
GABRIELLA: I say too much. I go.
ELAINE: He’ll be mad, I have to stop speaking to you. Please don’t use this.
Elaine stands up, reaching for her guide stick. Gabriella leaves, the emaciation obvious in her frame, revealing as she stands various cuts and bites and bruises. Kayden leaves, his electric wheelchair carrying the quadriplegic boy away.
“Now I know,” Mr. Walker pauses the film, “This doesn’t cast her in the best light, but we do have some UNbiased interviews on her and we’ll be editing out anything that makes her look too spoiled.”
But Kit isn’t listening, a plan is forming in his head. This has gone beyond the Victorian Sideshow of fat spoiled idiot girls that Forever Young usually exploits. This is more. He can make a deeply dark and darkly deep look into the psyche of this young girl, a Tiger King style exploration of America’s hidden corners and the monsters that dwell there. He’s thinking he’ll call it “Obeast.” It’ll rise his star to new heights, you can’t kill Kit Wessell. Kit smiles, he knows he can winkle out some more distressing details of Abby’s life if he asks the right questions. “So, you have two disabled children?”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. But Kayden doesn’t let his snapped spine get in the way of helping his little sister, we make sure of that. Besides, it’s his fault anyway.”
Mr. Walker nods to his assistant who brings up old security footage of Abby’s nursery. She’s a 2 year old 220lbs blob in her reinforced crib, greedily slurping from a spigot attached to a nearby McFlurry machine, just for her. She’s snuggled among several plush toys including her elephant. Suddenly the cribs legs snaps and the whole thing drops to the floor. People come rushing in panicked, Daddy elbowing them aside. Abby is so wedged in and basically a living air bag, she’s unharmed, the machine still pumping ice cream inside her.
“Abby, my sweet precious Abby” Daddy picks his toddler up with the help of a few other workers, “My poor, silly girl, you broke your bed!” Abby giggles, looking at the carnage she caused with her weight, recognising it as power. Even through the old security footage, the new sense of meaning is clear in her eyes. For the first time Kit sees her face, her sharp blue eyes are full of malice, haughty contempt for anything not about her.
“After that it was almost as if she wanted to get fatter” Mr. Walker explains, “She would always laugh when you struggled to lift her. Demand to be carried around by the maids she knew were the weakest just to hurt them, she loved to see them try to stand up after, weakened and broken. She loved when furniture would break under her. We used to take her to the grocery store with us and she’d always insist on riding the mechanical animals out front, she wasn’t happy until the thing was inoperable. She always wanted pony rides too from me and her brothers, my goodness she loved riding around on us, dropping her enormous gut heavily on the back of our heads. None of us could go for more than a few minutes and afterwards you were out of action. I didn’t want to disappoint my Abby but I was thinking long term, I couldn’t have her ride all of us to death or there’d be nobody to take care of her. To that end we limited her to riding her mother and a few of her siblings, cousins and workers. I tried to distract Abby from her pony ride phase by getting her a dog but every time we did they always got mysteriously crushed. Abby says it just happened.” He pauses for a moment to reflect on the unanswered mystery. “Anyway, as she grew up her interests started to vary.” He hands Kit a photo of Abby, 3 years old and 345lbs sitting by the pool.
What the picture doesn’t show is just how terrible it is to take Abby swimming. By this age she’s already basically who she’s going to be forever, the most horrendously demanding child with no regard for anyone else. Her face is beautiful, despite being so wobbly, with her cheeks and chins expanding outwards, though from some angles she still seems thin. Her hair is golden blonde and thick, rich and glistening. Under her cat-eye sunglasses her American blue eyes betray cruelty, her pouty lips smacking hungrily.
Abby eats like a sink hole, devouring whole cakes and roast beefs and hundreds of enchiladas. One boy slave she has a crush on is gifted the task of lifting her fat leg whenever she has to fart, releasing the foul brown cloud to strangle the lungs of her already abused workers.
“Abby want playhouse!!” she demands. Instantly Kayden stands as two workers bring in her SAKA stroller, a reinforced infant vehicle for girls of Abby’s enormousness. While Abby kicks and slobbers ice cream everywhere her entourage lifts her into the stroller. Kayden takes her to her playhouse which is basically a barn full of toys bigger than most people’s actual house. The toys are untouched, Abby’s interests are purely food based.
“Abby, I waited like you said! I waited all night!”
It’s the neighbour boy, he’s 11 years old and in love with Abby. He’s always coming over and does whatever she says. She makes him wait in her playhouse all day.
“FEED ME!!” she demands of the neighbour boy. Kayden can’t believe what he’s seeing as the boy stuffs his little sister. “Mmmmmmmmmmm!” She giggles, feeling powerful. She eats and eats, watching her brother, imagining his jealousy, she eats and eats and coos and bites and-- OOPS!
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHGHGGH!!!” the boy screams, Abby has unthinkingly bit through his fingers. His stumps are bleeding as tears come from his eyes, he wails for his mom.
All the screaming draws the adults, Daddy comes rushing. The bizarre scene of the neighbour boy bleeding shocks everyone.
“He did it!” Abby points to the kid. What’s pieced together is that the boy tried to hurt her and she bit his fingers in self-defence.
“The boy was sent to a centre for degenerates and we sued the family for everything” Mr. Walker explains to Kit, “I think it could make a great tragic back story for Abby’s show, she’s been through so many struggles.”
Kit nods, writing a note on his phone to track down the fingerless kid and find out what really happened.
“But, she wasn’t disheartened. My little girl still went for everything she wanted!”
Among the stuff he’s brought are a number of certificates, sashes and scepters. There are tiaras and photos of her in elaborate dresses.
“Abby has always loved the spotlight, so of course we entered her in every beauty pageant knowing she’d win.”
Kit looks at one picture of Abby, 4 years old and 415lbs with the 1st place tiara. The skinny runner-up girls look seriously scared, one’s got a black eye, in the background there’s an ambulance and the main stage, where this photo should have taken place, is partly destroyed.
“You should have seen her that day, she was so beautiful.” Mr. Walker casts his mind back. 4 year old Abby is like a boulder of soft dough.
“LET THE TALENT ROUND BEGIN!”
Abby’s already breezed through the interview, the catwalk (walking optional) and the eveningwear round. She watches, sneering, as a pageant regular sings her rendition of Like A Virgin before the next girl swirls her stupid batons around.
“-- NEXT UP IS CONTESTANT NUMBER 6, ABBY WALKER!”
The crowd cheers as Abby trots in. The horse carrying her does not look happy, in fact it looks like it’s just come from the battlefield. Its legs tremble weakly. It whinnies with discomfort as her enormous gut curves its spine down. It can barely manage a canter, shaking with the struggle. “FASTER, SNOWFLAKE!! HUWWY!!” she beats the beast with her riding crop, cracking sharply off its abused face. She releases a FART and instantly pure white Snowflake is painted in Abby’s diarrhea, seeping through her riding outfit. With that, the horse gives up. It collapses, 3 of its 4 legs snapping then and there. A sickening CRUNCH of shattered ribs accompanies a howl of dying misery. “STUPID PONY!!” Abby screams, whipping the $80,000 animal in its face.
“Oh Abby, my little girl!!” Daddy gushes, rushing over. Abby is already giggling at Snowflake, the sensation of crushing its very life utter bliss to her.
“That’s it! Competition’s cancelled!” the organiser screams, apparently most of the sponsors are child health companies and upon seeing Abby’s disgraceful display they pulled their support. Daddy’s abattoir guys come and take the wheezing, neighing Snowflake away as Abby licks her lips.
“According to pageant rules a winner still had to be declared and since it didn’t matter anymore the Judges could pick any girl for any reason.” Mr. Walker explains. Kit suspects the judges were bribed to let Abby win and adds them to his list of interviews. “Do you think she’ll get in trouble for that? I know these young people like to find stuff from your past and use it against you…”
Kit perks up. “Oh, you mean cancelled. No, the SJWs rarely go after women,” he says this with a bitter sting in his voice, “especially not one as size-positive as your darling daughter. They’ll protect her, and Republicans don’t care about animals so you’re safe there.” Mr. Walker smiles, Kit crosses his fingers, hoping the SJWs are crazy enough to protect this girl he’s now realising is the worst person in the world. He smiles. “As long as that’s the only thing to worry about?” Kit adds.
Mr. Walker looks to his lawyers. “Well, there may be… Ok, bring it up.” His assistant with the tablet brings up Abby’s very own YouTube page. Kit sees she has a decent number of subscribers but nothing to brag about, he can use the allure of more followers to get Abby on side. “So, this got a fair amount of notice but nothing really came of it. Tell me what you think.”
Kit watches…
~~~
“Welcome back to A-N-N Evening Update! Tonight we’re asking ‘is this the MOST spoiled child in America?’ Dolph Bunk has the story.”
We cut to the interior of a McDonalds. The whole Play Place is decked out, there are balloons and streamers and portraits of Abby everywhere. There are multiple elephant themed birthday cakes with messages celebrating her (not that she can read) and spreads of food laid out. It’s all for her of course, there’s none to be shared. There are unbelievable stacks of presents like a toy store, cards of money from relatives and well-wishers. This is not Abby’s birthday, by the way. It’s nowhere near Abby’s birthday. This is actually Abby Day, a holiday Daddy made up for her because it’s the part of the year without anything to celebrate, no half-birthdays, no Easter, no Labor Day.
“Dolph Bunk here at the Beverly Glen McDonalds where daughter of local Investment Manager Richard Walker is celebrating… well, herself!”
Daddy pulls back a drape they’d installed to obscure the next room, revealing Abby to everyone.
“May I introduce to you, America, Abby Walker. She’s 8 years old and 750lbs. That’s THIRTEEN times what doctors say a girl of Abby’s age should weigh.”
Stood up (supported by two hot 19 year old boy-servants) Abby’s body still has a classic pear shape, her hips defined and smaller up top, despite the mounds of fat defying typical human biology.
“Abby says she’s, quote, ‘not spoiled, just important.’ Despite that today’s celebrations come with thousands of dollars of presents from all her family and admirers, enough food to feed an impoverished neighbourhood, and of course lots of Abby. This headstrong young woman says when she grows up she, quote, ‘wants to be a bimbo’”
Abby releases a profound burp, green and acidic, it stinks up the whole room with fish and cheese and horse flesh breath.
“Now, I have Abby’s father, Richard Walker, here with me. Mr. Walker,” Daddy looks much older than he should, his body bent and broken, “has your daughter always been… happy?”
“Oh she’s great--”
Abby’s sweating profusely. Now the cameras are off her she turns on her worker boys. “Idiots! Get my stroller!” She collapses back into it, sighing with the release of indolence. She glugs back Mt. Dew, she has to be stood again in 15 seconds! “Lift, lazy idiots!” she screams at her muscular pet boys, they heave and struggle and lift her.
“Now I guess it’s time to talk to the lady of the hour--” Abby titters, she watches herself obsessively in the monitor, admiring, “Abby, tell our viewers at home what it’s like being you!”
“It’s awesome” she responds between mouthfuls of mayonnaise chili-cheese dogs, “I’m so beautiful and special I get whatever I want and I just laugh at poor people all day.”
“Do you think you’re America’s most spoiled child?”
Abby smiles the most devilish, knowing smirk. “I better be.”
“And apart from food, what’s your favourite thing to do, Abby?”
“I like shopping and getting Pwincess Rides.”
“What’s a Princess Ride?”
“It’s when Daddy or my uncles or brothers get on all fours and they let me ride on their back. They can barely move a single step they’re so weak!” Dolph Bunk looks to Daddy and the rest of Abby’s family. Many of them are hunched strangely, suffering limps and injuries. “They’re as pathetic as my pets, my Camel died when I was 6 and my Llama got crushed when I was 4, right now my Ox is looking worried.”
“But about your family, do you worry that might hurt them, given your weight?”
Abby just stares at him. Suddenly, there’s a SCREAM that could shatter glass. Dolph Bunk’s ears sting. “Fuck!” he accidentally swears on air. Abby has already been helped to her stroller, her stomach repositioned so she can kick her legs and thrash her arms, throwing an epic fit.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH DADDY!! HE CALL PWINCESS FAT!!!” She cries and screams as Daddy rounds on Dolph Bunk, yelling about how he’s going to sue the news channel. Nobody notices the satisfied contempt in Abby’s face, her manipulation and fake tears. She knows she’s a blob but loves to exploit the sympathy she gets when she’s called fat, mainly so much food to make her feel better. She always uses it to get more presents or get her enemies punished.
The story never made it to air, the whole segment was cut for decency concerns but the tape got into Daddy’s hands.
“Abby thought it made her look really cool so we put it on her YouTube and it’s got popular.”
From her view numbers Kit can tell it didn’t go viral, there’s so much that doesn’t shock people anymore. It’s the comments he’s more concerned about.
abby is amazing!!1! i wish I colud have her life lol
This little girl can dress however she wants, it’s her body. No man can call it inappropriate
dam she hot
Kit is impressed. Of the several thousand comments most of them are positive, even supportive of Abby’s reprehensible behaviour. People actually think it’s empowering, feminist. Now she’s older it can only be more positive.
“So, just to be clear, your daughter is 750lbs?”
“No, sir. She’s much fatter than that.”
Kit’s jaw drops lower and lower as Mr. Walker explains. Abby never got any thinner and when she hit puberty her hunger really started taking effect. Her greed skyrocketed and she gained hundreds of pounds. She reached 1000lbs at age 10, on her 11th birthday she was 1200lbs. Leaving the bed was extremely rare, although she still had some movement left.
What Mr. Walker doesn’t explain is how most movement is saved for rolling on her side whenever she needs a shit. Workers will line up with strong buckets for her to empty her always liquid dumps into. Often she’ll spray and splatter shit everywhere. Then, once she’s all done (it can take up to an hour) one of her slave workers, often mommy or another maid, will be forced to lick her asshole clean. She’s had 3 little sisters since she was born and each one of them is similarly used as toilet slaves (the only thing they use their tongues for as they’ve never been taught to speak). Her favourite are the orphan boys she’s made Daddy adopt for her, there’s always more and more, all mysteriously dying of blood poisoning, and she uses them to clean her thoroughly and “deeply” each time she goes to the bathroom. When she’s feeling kind mommy and her sisters are allowed to eat but it’s always from her shit buckets. She loves to see them desperately sift undigested bits like peasants. She loves to watch them gag on the only food she allows them and practically creams herself when they have to thank her afterwards.
“Great,” Kit interjects, oblivious to all this, “she’ll be perfect for the show, I can’t wait to see how your family celebrates her 16th birthday.”
“Actually, that reminds me. I ought to show you one last video.”
Kit hides his eye roll, he already knows this girl is a monster. Perfect trash-TV fodder, he doesn’t want to see any more of this disgusting she-creature.
“This is one of her old birthday parties from a while back.”
It’s huge, a country club hosting festivities, music and dance, all of it in celebration of one girl’s birthday.
Abby is fat beyond anything any of her guest have ever seen. Easily 2000lbs, she looks like a swimming pool of soft pink skin. She’s vast, the size of a trampoline and twice as bouncy, yet somehow she’s still squeezed into her special birthday dress. It’s pink and delicate and tailored expertly to her giant body. A golden crown matching her golden blonde hair, she reclines in her golden throne, as wide as a highway.
“Abby I got you--“
“PWIBZED AGGY!!” she commands through a mouthful of birthday-cake milkshake.
“Sorry, Princess Abby, I got you this puppy…”
“MMMMMM!!!” Abby moans, licking her lips. She commands the party guest to place his gift with the rest, failing to thank him. To her, this is the kind of treatment she genuinely deserves every day. Her guest places the doomed puppy in a pen with several other gift pets (puppies, kittens, pigs, ducks, alpacas, horses) next to the mounds of presents almost as big as the mound of Abby. The line of gift-givers continues, delivering her dresses and money and cars and chocolate only to be dismissed by the spoiled quivering blob.
“NEXT PWESENT!”
One of Daddy’s friends, a Senator or Governor or something like that, steps forward.
“Happy Birthday, Abby, the state of New York presents you with this diamond, originally a mainstay at the national museum it weighs over 90 carats and--“
“FOOD!” Abby screams, ironically spraying food everywhere. Her servants take the diamond from her guest and start bringing in more food. The line continues, Abby making sure to let her well-wishers know when their gift is insufficient. If she thinks it’s cheap or just not delicious enough they’re escorted out of the event.
“Now, baby girl!” Daddy steps in, “It’s time for your main gift from me… well, first main one… for today at least. Anyway, men, bring it in!”
Abby ignores her father as usual until she sees her gift.
Oh!
My!
God!
It’s the cutest thing Abby has ever seen, she’s in love. It’s a baby elephant!
“I know you love elephants, my little cupcake, especially baby elephants and nobody deserves the pet they want more than--”
“WANNA RIDE!!!”
Daddy smiles, he knew this was coming, but the animal-loving conservationist who helped Daddy purchase the elephant is concerned.
“Ma’am, you can’t ride it, even a grown elephant can only carry--”
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH
Abby’s trademark spoiled scream fills the air. The conservationist is ignored as Abby’s personal crane wheels over. She’s strapped into her harness, strong enough to transport whales. It lifts her, engine whirring in pain. Abby giggles with excitement, freely pissing as she’s hoisted into the air. A couple of Abby’s adopted pet brothers (non-English speakers) help corral the scared baby elephant into place, they’re sprayed by their incontinent pissing sister as Abby slowly hovers over them. The squealing baby elephant is forced into place beneath its massive owner, her shadow an eclipse. With crooks they heave powerfully to pull each of Abby’s iceberg legs apart, her ass right over the little elephant, next they use a hose to--
CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKK
Abby drops, her harness SNAPPING. People rush out the way but the two brothers and Abby’s birthday elephant aren’t so lucky. It squeals a final death trumpet as Abby’s monstrous body smothers it, breaking every bone. She feels it wriggle helplessly beneath her, too shattered to struggle. The conservationist is screaming but he’s lead away by security. Abby smiles as widely as her stomach. Not quite dead are her brothers. They tried to escape but where still under her perimeter of hip flab. One has his spine split totally in two, his limbs cast into unknowable shapes as the velour smother crushes his life into the ground. The other had his head smashed in and is so brain dead now he’s trapped inside his own body as well as beneath his sister’s. All he knows is pain. To crystallise her dominance Abby lets loose the foulest river of creamy, burning shit she can muster. Her brothers die pooled in her excrement, forgotten and meaningless.
Daddy steps forward, he and their abused family gathering around their most special, beloved child.
“Happy sweet 16th, Abby.”
“Wait!” Kit interrupts, the footage is paused, “This is Abby’s 16th birthday we’re watching?”
“It is.”
“But the whole point of the show--”
“I understand, Mr. Wessell, it’s just Abby enjoyed that birthday so much she decided EVERY birthday after would also be her sweet 16th. It’s difficult making each new 16th birthday special, so when we discovered your show, well--”
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
The chirping from his wrist watch is urgent and impatient.
“Pardon me, Mr. Wessell, I have to leave. My legal team can run you through the rest until I return. I won’t be long.” With that Mr. Walker stands and leaves. An aid scrolls further through the material.
“Mr. Walker wanted you to see Ms. Walker’s first visit to the aquarium…”
But Kit isn’t listening. He knows, given everything he’s learned about Mr. Walker, he knows what’s caused him to run off. Furthermore, now he suddenly knows why his Denny’s was closed off this morning. He knows what that terrible smell is.
“Excuse me, guys, my assistant will take care of you.”
Without stopping to speak to his PA Kit walks out of his office, past everyone else and down to the lobby. The weird stench is stronger than before but becomes unbearable as he steps outside. It’s not a gas-line like they’re saying, not even a burst sewage pipe or a crashed vacuum truck could make this smell. The Denny’s next door has police crowd control measures, there’s no crowd but “nobody else is allowed any food. They told us to word it exactly like that.”
Kit doesn’t even think about it, lies come so naturally to him. “I’m with Mr. Walker.”
The police let him cross. The parking lot is completely occupied by a 16-wheeler transport. Its bright pink, advertising several social media addresses in giant sparkly letters. Lines of people, Denny’s staff and kids and a familiar maid all carry heaps of food to the back of the truck. They all look ragged and pained.
As Kit draws closer he hears now-familiar sounds of devouring, the sound of greed and immodesty.
“ SLLUUUUURPPPP BRAAAAWWRP NYOMMNYOMMNYOM DADDY!!! SLOPPP GNYARRLLSHHH You took too long! Baby want CHOMMMNYUUURPP 50 more ewwy-phants for GNYOMNYOOMGUUULLP din-dins!”
“Of course my Princess, my special, amazing, sexy little girl. Daddy belongs to you, precious one.”
Kit braces himself and sticks his head around the back of the truck. He’s blasted with a wall of heat like walking into the dessert. Instantly he sweats, his skin stinging. His eyes feel as if they’re boiling but through his tears he can make out plenty. The bed of the truck is awash with garbage, all fast food wrappers, mounds of bones, pop bottles, cake boxes and a shining veneer of drool. Beyond them, towards the back, it almost looks like a New York apartment. It’s well lit, the walls decorated to a little girl’s liking, there are stuffed toys mounted against the back including a shredded, shit stained baby elephant. The main feature, snugly squished in and filling half the truck is the 30 year old 10,000lbs blob Abby Walker. She looks like the aftermath of some terrible dough explosion, she’s everywhere. Her vastness spreads diluvial, soft and pink, she’s a landmass, rolling hillocks. Abby is comprised of so many folds it’s impossible to tell which fields of flesh are her useless limbs and what’s her all-encompassing stomach. Her face is in the middle, still beautiful, if she were several tonnes lighter Kit knew she could have been an Instagram influencer or a trophy wife. Hell, he would have banged her. Her thick blonde hair is done up and adorned in jewels. Her blue eyes are still recognisably cruel, her bloated face still hosting her squished kitten nose and pouting bimbo lips. She’s covered in jewelry, a necklace worth at least $400,000 lost beneath 7 of her chins and stained with slopped gravy and acidic salivation. She’s technically dressed, a skimpy pink tube top with the words DRAMA QUEEN gracing both her hula hoop nipples. Between the shifts of her sweltering hip folds a gold shit-stained thong can be made out. On her dainty feet (each of which weigh more than any starved member of her family) are sparkling pink stilettos.
Kit climbs in, amazed at this monstrous child-woman-blob creature. He nearly slips, the ground drenched in Abby’s piss. The air is hard to breathe, every intake feels like chugging a funnel of shit and sweat.
“DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!! WHO’S THAT UGLY MAN??”
Abby has spotted Kit. Since she doesn’t want to fuck him she considers his presence an effrontery.
“Oh, Mr. Wessell, is there an issue with the contract?”
But Kit just stares at Abby. Her servants tip stacks of strawberry pancakes into an economy-sized blender which pipes its liquefied contents into Abby’s greedily glugging pig face.
“This… this is disgusting!!”
Through her feeding haze Abby’s face twists like she’s having a bad dream, the malevolence is demonic.
“Please, Mr. Wessell, I know this is technically her 14th sweet 16 birthday party but you can stretch the rules--“
“But, it’s meant to be about girls” he bemoans, appealing to sense, “This isn’t a girl, it’s a big fat… thing!”
Angry, Abby hits one of 3 big colourful buttons on her child-friendly control pad, placed under her limp sausage fingers. Mechanisms in the truck start to sound.
“Watch your mouth, sir! My daughter is a delicate flower!”
Abby BURPS, spraying them all like a visit to SeaWorld, the smell is also similar.
“How are we supposed to market a girl as disgustingly fat as that? She’s like a slutty planet made of--”
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSHHHHHHHHHHHH
It sounds like a bomb going off, all the servants run. Kit is blown away. Abby heard his insult and as a special, beautiful important Princess cannot accept anything other than utter worship. The button she pressed sent an electric shock to a group of her slaves outside, all of them paralysed in electric wheelchairs. It told them to start pulling, their chairs attached to cables that feed into a winch inside the truck. They towed valiantly, lifting Abby’s yacht-sized gut. As they struggled and spun out the little girl/30 year old monster’s gut was raised revealing her stinking, oversexed crotch. With utter disregard for anything other than her own enjoyment Abby released a hurricane blast of diarrhea.
Kit is thrown from the back of the truck at brute force speed. His skull cracks sharply off the top, snapping his spine as his body flings ragdoll style through the air and smashing through the window of Denny’s.
“I’m sorry, special baby” Daddy grovels, only partly painted in his daughter’s vile shit, “We’ll carry on with the documentary and EVERYONE will see how hot and awesome you are!”
Grumpy Abby huffs, she’s still shitting, the fowl lava flow of excrement a foot high and funneling out of the truck into the parking lot, “I want another music video! And I want to go for a ride on my giraffe! And I want to stop at another Denny’s, this one barely lasted an hour!!” With that she screams, high pitched and piercing as her family runs to acquiesce. Abby drools happily.
In a crater of glass splinters and bone Kit Wessell lays twisted, unable to move and in terrible pain. Still, a slimy smile brakes his bloody face. “I survived,” he notes in his head, “the worst thing in the world and I survived it. You can’t kill Kit Wessell!” He starts to laugh limply like a stroke victim, every breath utter agony. He is celebrating, he is alive, he feels indestructible… and then he sees the flow of Abby’s shit spilling towards him, closer, over, burying him in hot, thick feculence. There’s nobody around to help him.
Now he’s cancelled.