Stepfordized: Part 13

Hot water cascaded over Kelsey’s shoulders as she stared endlessly and infinitely into the abyss of the bathroom tile wall. In the absence of some warm and loving person to hold and care for her, she took some tainted solace in standing under molten hot water in the now suspiciously spacious shower built by good, hard-working Ansley Park contractors who built such accommodating facilities with only women’s health and happiness in mind.

“That’s not fair.” She sighed and reaches for a bottle of shampoo. “They probably had no say in what they were told to build.”

Years of choices played and replayed in her head over and over as she lathered the shampoo into her hair, trying to find the key moment that led her to the exact place, time, and situation she was in. Ansley park was notoriously conservative and she knew that. The place was literally called Stepford by even the women who lived there, each of them either fat and pregnant, rich and pregnant, or preaching the virtues of patriarchal roles for women and how immensely important and indeed inevitable it is for women to become pregnant even at the expense of their own sense of self.

“Why am I even here? Why did I move here??” Kelsey’s thoughts continued, the words themselves muted as if slamming against an invisible pane of bulletproof glass separating the desperate questions from the rest of her mind.

Kelsey knew the answer. She knew why she’d arrived. DGWA was, on paper, a dream come true. Almost free tuition for women who qualified, run by a formerly outspoken advocate for women’s rights, and not a man in sight. It was the perfect place for a feminist to turn the tide of misogyny in it’s own home while getting an almost-completely expenseless degree. AA, BA, Masters, it didn’t matter. DGWA even had doctoral programs that cost a fraction of what it would anywhere else, and once again, it was for women, by women. How could she resist? Why would she not go?

That was the problem though. It felt more like a honey trap than anything now. It wasn’t misogynistic men telling her who she was and trying to force themselves on her. No, it was the women. The fat, lazy, horny, submissive, baby-crazy women masquerading as feminists as they somehow bled the fight and individuality out of any woman who came in contact with them. She’d already heard the stories and seen the before and after shots of some of them. Professor Kate, Mrs. Grant, and even the joggers on the street. Each of them were visibly becoming more entrenched in the culture over time.

Kelsey washed the shampoo out of her hair, miserably cold every time she left the warmth of the hot water. She grabbed the conditioner, created and supplied by the local pharmacy, sure to give her perfect, silky soft hair. It worked too. Every time she soaked her scalp in it, she felt a little bit prettier. She scratched the top of her head gently, picking away at any dead skin and allowing the formula to seep into her scalp. Then, once satisfied and saturated, she turned to wash her chest while the conditioner soaked into every long, brown follicle.

As the water splashed onto her chest, Kelsey did everything she could to put the increased sensitivity of her breasts from her mind. It wasn’t sexy or fun, nor was it bad or painful. Kelsey could simply fill the extra heft of her boobs as each drop bounced off of them. She could feel them more acutely now, having gone up almost two cup sizes since…whatever. With a big, heaving sigh, she soaped up the rest of her body, feeling the plush, feather-soft pooch of her rounder stomach. What was once a flat, if not squishy tummy now poofed forward with a generous coating of new, quivering fat. She pressed her hand into it slightly, feeling it instantly yield and squish under her gentle prodding. It wasn’t thick by any means at all, which usually meant it would be fairly easy to lose, but first she would have to allow herself to really look at herself and admit to herself for sure that it was happening.

After rinsing her hair, Kelsey forced herself out of the shower and into the steamy bathroom. She’d seen many girls around school start changing, some of them even joking about the “Ansley Effect” already taking over. It was a common idea that the townsfolk joked about with differing levels of seriousness Some people thought it was just a funny coincidence that only happened to a couple girls while others claimed that it was a culturalism. Others still, usually the women more fully ingrained in the system would speak of it in utter seriousness as if it were practically unavoidable, citing anecdotes and stories from friends, or in some cases, even going out of their way to point out that they themselves were taken by surprise. Kelsey and Ahanu were both on the fence as to whether or not they believed the phenomena was cultural or some kind of magical or technological brainwashing. They had seen first hand how the older women, however slightly older that may have been, tended to act and talk. They had seen girls start to change, but each one had a reason, and most often it looked like normal growing up college shit. Even so, it was hard to deny that with the exception of Eliza, every woman who lived in town for more than a few years ended up a pregnant housewife with few aspirations outside of motherhood and marrying rich. It was hard to say if it was real or not, but as she lifted her hands to her chest, Kelsey watched in the mirror as her bigger, fatter boobs lifted over her rounder, softer waist.

Even if it *WAS* real, Kelsey thought, she would die before she let it happen to *her.*

(1)

As the days had gone by, Kelsey had taken to trying to isolate herself as much as possible from the other women in town. She stayed in when other girls went to parties or to the movies, and especially out to eat. Somewhere along the way, Kelsey had begun to eat more than usual, and while it wasn’t a gratuitous display of gluttonly where she wolfed down three burgers and two boxes of nuggets, she did find herself sort of grazing more often on snacks and little treats when they were available.

With Lihua taking her “break” after Kelsey revealed that instead of waiting a few days for her to return she got drunk and slept with some prep school dork, Kelsey found herself wanting for support and company. Luckily for her, Ahanu wasn’t exactly the party-girl type and tended to hang around her apartment with her new girlfriend. Eliza was an absolute riot to hang with and brilliant to boot. The two got along wonderfully, though it was painfully obvious that she only had eyes for Ahanu. It was sweet, but seeing the two of them together made Kelsey all the more aware that had she not lost her temper and gotten drunk at Dylan’s place, she too would probably be getting her shoulders rubbed and nose nuzzled by her own exotic girlyfriend. It made her feel especially guilty, and even more lonely.

The other two women were supportive at least, coming over fairly often to support and talk Kelsey up while she worked through her issues. Before long, Eliza had become the third in their group of best friends and a welcome addition to their gay little feminist bubble. Even so, Eliza’s selfless detachment from money and newfound income had manifested in a willingness to part with her earnings easily. Each night she came over turned into a tipsy slumber party where the three of them would play board games or watch movies in their underwear. All the while, Eliza had made a habit of ordering massive amounts of what she referred to as munchies, crunchies, and more than a few edibles to help liven up their night. Kelsey had been pushing away the thoughts about her expanding figure for as long as possible but still couldn’t help but feel a guilty pressure every time more food was placed in front of her. It wasn’t even pressure to eat, though she had found that having the girls over or being at either of their places made it almost impossible to stick to the poorly thought out and even more poorly executed diets she had come up with to stave off any further weight gain.

After a few weeks, Kelsey had returned to speaking and texting with Lihua, though it remained friendly and somewhat distant. The two of them had agreed that it was best that they take things slowly and work their way back up to where they were before the slighted Chinese girl was comfortable being in a relationship with someone so impulsive and anxiety-driven. Ahanu and Eliza both cheered the two of them on, but decided not to push to meet Lihua in earnest until the relationship with their friend was more stable. Despite her smug attitude, Eliza was particularly street smart when it came to social situations and was not willing to jump to befriend or get involved with a someone who might become a source of drama if things didn’t go well. Still, that didn’t stop the two lovers from trading crash pads with Kelsey each fun-filled night. Despite the overwhelming love and support, Kelsey found it harder and harder to not only ignore the feeling of her clothes getting tighter, but to not notice that her friends were beginning to follow suit. With Eliza’s salon appointments and constant wardrobe updates coming in from her hit radio show, dress up was a common game for the three of them to casually play while they hung out. Incidentally, it made it all too easy to notice that even the previously bone-thin goth was beginning to fill out as her loving relationship continued to blossom.

(2)

Despite her best efforts to stay reasonably slim, Kelsey found her battle growing more and more difficult. She chided herself for snacking so often and watched what she ate when she was alone, but her clothes eventually grew tight enough that raising her arms caused her shirts to ride up, exposing a cute but visibly puffy belly to whoever happened to be near. She tried to run or go through her yoga poses that she’d learned from Lihua, but no matter what she did, it seemed like she just kept finding ways to gain more weight. Sometimes Kelsey would stare at herself in the mirror for long periods of time, evaluating her body with intentionally little effort. She realized that her haphazard efforts to really evaluate herself in addition to what she was eating and how much were probably what prevented her from making any real headway as opposed to watching the numbers on the scale slowly creep upward by fractions of pounds each day, but to do more would be to invite the possibility of certain….intrusive thoughts.

Kelsey had valiantly put it from her mind most of the time by distracting herself with tv, her friends, or the easy-enough cooking assignments given out as part of her fat professor’s Nutrition class. Food especially was a great diversion, as it allowed Kelsey to blame her expanding figure on all of the eating she was doing, but it still wasn’t enough to stop her fully from thinking back to the night of the party. She would catch glimpses of herself in the mirror and startle at how big her aching breasts looked, only to tell herself that she’d never experienced real weight gain before and thus didn’t know how it would feel or look on her. Other times she would start to cook herself an old favorite only to somehow botch it so terribly that she could barely stomach a few bites before she could no longer convince herself to eat any more despite having no idea what she did wrong. Her thighs thickened by the day and after coming a little too close to failing to button her jeans one day, Kelsey caved and pre-emptively bought some new, larger outfits. She told herself over and over that this was just the freshman 15 or that she needed to watch her consumption, but there was always a tiny thought in the back of her mind that she refused to listen to. Even so, she found it more and more difficult to excuse her rising weight or the tenderness in her breasts. She found herself running to the bathroom to pee more often than usual, but played it off as having drank too much each night the girls were over. Then, when Eliza and Ahanu were off doing their own thing, the crushing loneliness of her dark and soundless apartment left her sobbing uncontrollably at what she felt was a colossal failure with the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen.

The only thing more terrifying than the feeling that the two of them were becoming more distant over the course of their “break” was the growing, swelling possibility in the far reaches of her mind that she might have a bigger problem than whether or not her yoga instructor was into her.

“Oh. Oh my god. Oh my fuck thank fucking god, holy shit and also ow. Oh my god. OH god. PHEW!” Kelsey declared giddily, nearly bursting into laughter AND tears after waking up one morning with mild cramps only to run into the bathroom and find a few tricklets of blood seeping into her panties.

She pulled herself up and looked in the mirror, noting her plushier body with gleeful relief and heaving a deep, relaxing sigh.

“I’m getting fat.” She giggled happily, tears once again filling her eyes as she tilted her head back to the ceiling and sighed again.

“I’m just gaining weight. Oh my god I never thought I’d be so happy to be getting chubby.” Kelsey said, now playfully squishing the pudge on her thighs and arms before giving her belly a small jiggle.

Delighted, Kelsey got dressed and decided to go out for some air, only to be accosted by a hideously nauseating smell the second she stepped out of her front door. She suppressed her gag response, covering her mouth as she turned away from the source of the smell.

“Morning, sunshine.” Said Ahanu with a lit cigarette dangling casually from her lips.

(3)

“Holy shit that smells awful.” Kelsey said. “Since when do you smoke?”

Ahanu bobbed her head from side to side before taking the cigarette out of her lips with two fingers. “Eliza got me to try them a while back. I knew then I shouldn’t have fucked with them, but it turns out that the taste of smoke on our breath is something we both like. So yeah.”

Kelsey was not convinced and remained turned away with her eyes closed to stop herself from retching.

“Jesus those are strong. That smoke is WAY more potent than my mom’s old marlboros.” She said, trying to mask her disappointment in her friend while making conversation.

(4)

“Oh? I mean…I can’t really tell since I don’t have a basis for comparison, but these are even light cigarettes. You should see the ones Eliza smokes. They’re WAY stronger than even these.” Ahanu said, shrugging.

“I can move if you want.”

Kelsey felt bad for her reaction, but the smell was getting to her for the first time since she left home. Her mom was a heavy smoker and the house was constantly smelling of it, but apparently the time away had lessened her tolerance to the smell by a significant margin now that it wasn’t everpresent.

“No, it’s fine. Just…be careful. My mom ended up going through two packs a day after just a year. You’re gonna get hooked if you do that any more.” She warned.

This time it was Ahanu’s turn to sigh, her narrow-eyed gaze far in the distance.

“Honestly I think I’m already feeling it. I’ve been…not craving I guess. But thinking. Like I’ll be turned on at home and think of smoking during sex with Eliza. Sorry. TMI.

But other times too. If I’m in class I’ll find myself thinking about how many I’ve had since me and Eliza started dating. Sometimes I’ll just sit there and think of all the other girls I’ve seen doing it around school or the neighborhood. You’d be surprised how many of these preggos smoke.”

Kelsey thought back to the first time she’d met Claire and her assistant during the tour Ahanu gave her when they first arrived and how both women were heavily pregnant and puffing away.

“Yeah, huh?” Kelsey began, her senses acclimatizing to the smell.

“Welp, at least I know that *I’m* not gonna have that problem.”

“Oh? I thought you didn’t smoke.” Ahanu asked, turning her head to blow a stream of blue-gray smoke from her mouth away from her friend.

“I don’t. And thank fucking FUCK for all the fuck in the high heavens….I’m also not pregnant.” Kelsey said, far more relieved than she expected to be able to say it.

Ahanu’s ears pricked up immediately.

“Huh? Was that a concern?”

Kelsey turned and raised her eyebrows for emphasis as she said “YEP.”

The native girl’s squinting stare became a quizzical furrow before opening wide.

“OH MY GOD, NO WAY. WAS IT WHEN YOU WERE WITH DYLAN?!?!” She questioned furiously.

“YEP.” Kelsey nodded slowly, her widened eyes still fixed in one position.

“I was freaking out so bad. At first I thought, hey, we totally used a condom, but then I remembered I was drunk that night and might have only remembered TELLING him to use one.

Then my boobs started hurting, food was tasting weird..-“

“-And you’ve been gaining weight too.” Ahanu concluded. “And you’re sure you’re good now?”

Kelsey nodded solemnly with her eyes closed before responding verbally.

“Yeah. I just got my period today. I’d been kinda shoving it back and not letting myself even start to think that I might be, but now that I’m in the clear, HOLY SHIT.”

Ahanu took a deep drag on her cigarette followed by an abnormally long exhale.

“Shit. You need to be WAY more careful, girl. You just dodged the biggest bullet of your life.”

“Fuck me.” Kelsey said. “Tell me about it.”

“’Ello everyone and welcome back to London Bridge, where I sit on me arse in the studio an’ tell you lot wot’s wot, hey?

So the leading lady (and that’s not me by the by, but me boss) has decided that if I’m to be spittin’ my truth all ova’ the airwaves, I’m at least gonna ‘ave to interact with my adoring fans from all ova’ the ci’y insteadda jus’ preachin the ‘ole time. Now you know me, I LOVE to ‘ear meself gab on and on, but at the end of the show we’ll be takin’ some calls from our listen’as, so I ‘ope you’re all as excited as I am.

In th’meantime, I wont to address sumthin that’s been buggin me since it ‘appened. So The big boss Donna Celeste, right? Top notch gal. Superstar an all that. She tells me that I gotta watch ‘ow I talk on the radio an I said ‘oi luv, if you want me to stop me dir’y mouth from cussin up a bloody storm you’re in for the fight’a ya life. But nah, she says I just gotta get me cockney arse into speech therapy. APPARENTLY, summa you lot are so entrenched in speakin Americanese that you dunno ‘ow the language is s’posed to sound. Then again, a’hm practicly a propa rat back in London so I figured I’d give it a go and see if we can’t trade me South End dialect for the Queen’s in due time. Then at least maybe you yankee bitches might actually undastand ‘alf the shit comes out me mouth, yeah?

Anyways, that’s not it.

So lots of people, especially the ladies ‘round town ask if I’m bisexual or straight when they see me out ‘n about. Well sorry to ruin ya dreams ‘a me findin a nice lad to se’le down wiv, but I’m a propa lezzie, savvy? I dun ‘care ‘ow dishy ya boy moigjt be, I’m still not keen on kissin’ blokes wot aren’t more interested in otha blokes an’ I definitely don’t wanna shag any of them. Now, I tell people this an they look at me like ‘a’ve sprou’ed anotha ‘ead, so I ‘ave to sit an spell it out for’em, just like I’m fixed to do for you all now: I. AM. GAY.

I am a lesbian. Vagitarian. Girly kissa. Or, if yer like ‘alf the folk back in jolly old England, I’m a fockin dyke.

Now I say this because even though bi-erasure is a thing, that doesn’t mean it applies to me, hey? There is no man f’me. No Prince Charming come to rescue me from me combat boots an spoiky collars and all that.

An I don’t want one! I don’t want it!

I ‘ave a loverly li’le girlyfriend ‘oo treats me like a proper princess even though I’m ‘alfway to a propa butch. Or was, til Donna Love got me ‘air done down at Kitty’s hair and nail salon, go check ‘em out when y’got the time. And yeh, fancy that, they even do ‘air for BAME’s like me. So if your ‘ead’s nappy, she’ll still make you ‘appy.

See? Y’loike that?

Just came up with that meself…

Anyways. Lost me point. But the point is.

THE POINT IS. That I’m not bisexual or straight an I *DO* think it ma’ers. We live in a ci’y where ninety-nine pe’centa ladies end up married to a bloke an the rest are eitha divorced or still shoppin. To see a lass loike me an immEEEEjetly ashume that I’m just flickin beans until the roight man with a propa shiny cock comes along to turn me into some jelly bellied mum’a six li’le rugrats an’ it’s disgustin. But not becuz a’hm gay.

It's becuz there is SO MUCH more to the feminine experience than shackin’ up an’ ‘avin kids! Where’s your sense of adventure? Where is your want for FREEDOM? An’ not some Trumpy supremacist gun gun bang bang freedom, settin’ of fi’reworks at every bloody occasion and scarin the shit outta me poor pup. I mean travel. Expression. Art, music, cult’ah and such. Instead, you lot just bob around getting big an’ milky while the blokes run ya’lives for you!

That’s not livin! That’s bein livestock. Cat’le.

An’ I need you all to hea’ me good an’ clear so that there’s no mistakes, alright?

Cat’le get slaught’ad the moment they’re no longa useful.

Hear that, steppies? You fail, you get replaced. You get old, fat, ugly, or just can’t ‘ave kids? You’re on your arse before you can blink. So you need to live your lives for YOU. Not ‘im. An when you’re all ready to come se’le back down at ‘ome once you’ve gotten your enrichment, then you can fuck an’ shag, an ‘ave as many brats as ya like.”

Eliza leaned back in her chair and turned towards a delighted Donna Celeste, who for all her muted excitement was tapping on her watch and making phone signs with her hand. Eliza smiled and nodded before turning back, already pleased with her increased air time and additional pay bump for interacting with the locals directly, which was sure to only boost the ratings even more.

(5)

“Ah, but that’s me on me soapbox again, hey? ‘Ow bout I fulfill my promise and take some calls.”