Sainte-Isabelle Chapter 4

"No, you can't slow it down, or anything. It just pauses, with this little button thingy, only your finger gets sore. Anyway, you have to use it up. You can't get away from that fact," Emma said, lying on her bed, propped against the pillows, huffing and gripping her swollen belly. Her two friends perched themselves on chairs by her bedside, watching anxiously. One of them with hopeful excitement. The other with abject horror.

"I mean, it goes all right, really. Once I got going, it was fine. Then about half an hour later, I thought I'd never ever be able to finish it. Ever! But then I took a break, and I was fine again. Now, oooohhh! I'M SO STUFFED!"

"Like a good goose," Abi said approvingly, inspecting the applicator and peering down the plastic tube. She blew into the other end. A few droplets of milky liquid splashed onto Sophie's face, which made her screw up her nose even further.

"It's nice, though. Sort of like vanilla ice-cream, maybe?" Emma belched. "Still, it must have a million gazillion calories in it. I've gone a bit dizzy. Think I might pass out."

"Well, we'll just have to wait until tomorrow, eh, Sopps?" Abi nudged the sulking roommate with her elbow. "Old Step Mummy's going to be well chuffed to bits when you come for Christmas having grown into a Whale Junior. The Pride and Joy of entire family..."

"I'm NOT drinking a million gazillion of calories to become a fat cow like you two,"  Sophia burst out, leaping off the chair and throwing herself facedown on her bed. "You can stick that stuff right up your throat if you wish, but I'm not going." She pulled the covers over her head. Great, soft sobs shook her bed.

"Your bloody wake, then," Abi stretched her arms above her head with a great yawn. "By Friday they'll have figured it all out if your trough isn't sucked dry every time it's your turn. You're going down, kiddo. Branded a fake and chucked in the shit-bucket. No Trust Fund for you. I'd better start packin', if I was you ..."

"... I'll be on the streets ... homeless ... !"

"Well, if you can think of somethin' to do except just blubberin' like a snotty little slag, then maybe you won't get so royally screwed. How about strippin' or bog-cleanin'?"

And that was the last Emma had heard before everything went muzzy and she drifted off into a deep sleep.

___

It was ten past five. She'd been asleep for nearly an hour. Not quite time for dinner yet. She struggled to her feet and shambled off into the bathroom.

"RIBBLARY - HAVE SOLUTION TO SOPPPY PRBLM. FCK & PSS A" read a Post-It note stuck to the door scrawled in strange squiggles.

She tried to think about what it meant, but her brain seemed made of lead. All she could think about was food, and going back to bed. She patted her distended belly. Food? Her tummy feel both full ... and yet so empty.

Ribblary? Did that mean anything? Ribble Valley? That wasn't anywhere near here. Oh, library, all right then. Fine, just as soon as she found something to eat. Something really heavy and filling. Just what she needed right now. To fill up that aching hole inside her. Gosh! Whatever had been in that mixture, it sure packed a wallop. A whole wallop and a half.

Charlotte had been right about one thing. It wasn't going to take much effort to make herself huge! Piece of cake.
She laughed at the pun, thinking about Charlotte with her vast round belly full of cake and M & Ms bulging out like a beach ball. She felt a strange tingling sensation. What ever it was, she didn't have time for it. Later, maybe. For now, though, there were other matters to attend to. Like grabbing a slice of that cake and cramming it down her ravenous gut, then over to the library.

Dinner time would be another hour at least. Fortunately, Saint Isabelle boasted a 24-hour emergency food kiosk, according to the leaflet, and only five minutes later, Emma was looking through a little glass panel.

"Aaah!" sighed the girl on the till in weary recognition. "Freshers and their after-trough munchers! They're always start tiny, then they get bockin' huge!" She laughed at her own little gag, one she had doubtless told hundreds of times already.

"One cheesecake please," Emma ordered hastily, studying the menu pasted up against the glass.

"Yummmmmyyyy!" purred the girl. "My fave!" She did sounded like one of those girls who spend their entire day stuffing themselves with emergency cheesecakes.
Emma could only see about half of the girl, but even that was quite enough to make her wonder how she got out of the back door at the end of her shift, assuming this girl ever went home. And actually, half of girl wasn't giving the full picture. In fact, Emma could see about three normal girls' worth, with another three worth hidden by the panel. Or five, if she had a really big bottom. But then she would certainly need to sleep where she worked.

"... anything else?"

Emma shook her head. The fat girl turned away, then came spinning back, pushing a tray with two plates heaped with cheesecake slices through the window.

"Oh, no, just one ..."

"Gotta get two of them. Save you all that extra walking back. Aaargh, I hate walking; this bloody place gets so narrow. I axed to be put on a shift on B-Block, but what can you expect? Short on staff, Molly. Maybe next year, Molly. But I say, next year? Look at my arse now! Next year you gonna have to build me a whole new C-block...." She tailed away into silence as she became absorbed by her thoughts. Emma waited.

"... anything else?"

"How much do I pay?"

"Give me your student card. First three snacks a day are free. After that, it's all on the points." She caught sight of Emma's puzzled expression. "You work, like in this dump, and you get points. I could have a word with my boss. She could squeeze you in here. Not while I'm here, of course!" Molly laughed at her own joke again. Then she thrust another tray through the window. "Here, have one more. I've had about ten already, and my shift ends in half an hour, so I can go and finally grab some food."

"So you ... you're a student here?" Emma made polite conversation as she handed across her Student Card.

"Just started Thirds."

"Oh, what's it like? You know, over there, in the other block..."

"B-block, yep. Great big doors. Wide hallways. Not a single stair. So, eat your cakes, and you'll soon find out!"

---

The library was a magnificent old building; high ceilings, dusky light filtered through stained glass windows, the scent of polished wood and leather bindings. Shelves reached away into infinity in all directions, towering above Emma until they met the vaulted roof. Tables stood in the middle of the floor, surrounded by capacious armchairs. There was no sign of life, apart from a portly librarian engrossed in a lurid paperback romance. Emma threaded her way among the shelves, peering between the ranks of books in search of her friends.

"Ow, you clumsy clodhopper, you trod on my toe. What you're even lookin' for anyway?" she recognised Abi's voice coming from somewhere at the far end of the library.

"SSSHHHH!" hissed the librarian and turned a page.

"Sexual Positions for Very Large Girls? Bloody hell, Sophie? Are you serious?"

"One can still be curious," whispered Sophia.

"Ooooh, look at the pics ... that's me in a year or two ... arse as big as a double-decker bus gettin' fucked doggy style... and this must be our ol' Lizzie-daisy Charlotte after another three hundred pounds in her gullet ..."

"SSHHHH!"

There they were. Huddled behind a tall bookshelf.

"About bloody time," growled Abigail. "What took you so long?"

"I don't know why we needed to meet here?" Emma complained. She had been blissfully stuffed and didn't fancy traipsing around the school. She slumped into a comfortable armchair in the corner. Three slices of the cake were perhaps a bit excessive before dinner. Too late now.

"We found something," said Sophia. She looked smug and pleased with herself. Strange. Very strange indeed. It was almost disturbing.

"Found what?"

Abigail held up a book in front of her nose. 'Ste. Isabelle - The Complete Unabridged Rules.' 1968 edition.'

"Golly, a book in a library. You girls are geniuses!"

"Oh shut up, and listen," said Abi. "Most idiots who come here know the exact reason, apart from this bloody disaster... " She yanked Sophie back by her golden-blonde locks "... but listen what the Bible sez ..." She opened the book and started reading from it.

STUDENTS ARE ENCOURAGED TO MAKE REASONABLE EFFORTS TO ATTAIN FULL MEMBERSHIP OF THE SAINTES-ISABELLES EXPANDED STUDENT BODIES (SIESB) AND TO ACQUIRE AN APPROPRIATE AMOUNT OF WEIGHT IN CONJUNCTION THEREWITH. A SILVER AWARD IS PRESENTED TO STUDENTS DISPLAYING OUTSTANDING COMMITMENT AND A MINIMUM NET GAIN OF 4 STONE (56 LBS) IN A SINGLE TERM. FOR THE STUDENTS WHO DEMONSTRATE EXTRAORDINARY DEDICATION, A GOLD AWARD MAY BE GRANTED AT THE HEADMISTRESS'S ABSOLUTE DISCRETION FOR A NET GAIN OF 8 STONE (112 LBS) IN A SINGLE TERM."  She shut the book. "Out of date, though," she grunted. "But you get the idea."

"Yeah, I do," Emma yawned, her eyes glazed over and the numbers dancing before her eyes. "I'm totally going for the golden award. Both Autumn and Spring terms."

"No, it's the Minimum Weight," said Sophia eagerly.

"Is it now?"

"YES! There isn't one!"

"Blonde's right." Abigail nodded.  "Reasonable effort. Twenty pounds a term should be enough to keep this moaning little pipsqueak in black for a couple of terms at least."

"You said TEN!" Sophia screwed up her face.

"Or twenty. Same thing really."

"Is that why you two dragged me over here after three helpings of cheesecake?" Emma grumbled crossly. "To tell me all this? It's got nothing to do with me. Come on, let's go and eat. It's almost dinnertime."

"Tell her about the Treatment rooms," whispered Sophia urgently.

"Can't avoid the 'troughs', they're compulsory. 'Non-attendance is grounds for kicking poseurs out,' so sayeth the school bible."

"So?" Emma looked from one to the other. "Can't she drain it into a beaker or something?"

"You clever pussy, as if I hadn't thought of that first. Anyway ... meet your fuckin' roommate... this is Sophia. Total cry baby. Scares easy.  Turns bright red whenever she tells porkies ..."

""I don't!" Sophia protested indignantly, turning bright red. "Oh, well, sometimes, but ... and no, I mean, more like rosy-red than red! But still, yes, I'm so scared of getting caught."

"So what are you suggesting and make it quick, I'm getting hungry again."

"You go instead of her."

"Me?" Emma stared at her friends like a stricken rabbit. "But how?"

"Dunno. Pneumatic post, maybe?" Abigail grinned. "Or you could get someone to cart your arse across there in a barrow or something."

"Why me? Why not you, Abi? You want your ass to be twice as big as your sisters', don't you?"

"Course I do! But I couldn't really pass as Soppy, could I?"

"And I could?"

"Course you could! You and Soppy are practically ... what's the word? Identical twins.. Two skinny and bloody irritating little cows. Just pretend to be her for long enough to get yourself marked on the attendance. Those prefects won't even notice your maddening mug if you came up from behind and whacked them round the back of their head with a spade. 'Tis Sainte-fuckin'-belle. They'd be droolin' over new girls' fat juicy arses. There's no droolin' about where yours is concerned. You're perfectly INVISIBLE!"

"She's blond, though," Emma objected, a touch hurt. She was proud of her already quite respectable start-up behind, and intended to see it grow to its full splendor. Some people didn't have the luxury to start their college life as big fat cows.

"Oh, bloody hell. It's all over, then. Soppy's done for, 'coz there's no chance in this world of ever getting a drenched-straw perm."

"We've already got some bleach and dye," Sophia said excitedly. "I'm great with hair. Always wanted to be a hairdresser. Please Emma? I think it might work. At least, for a term or two. Pretty please."