Oh yes, being married to you had certainly done a number on Tara’s waistline. The word ‘waistline’ of course being entirely hypothetical. Tara hadn’t had one of those in years. It had been swallowed, devoured by bulging love handles that sagged and jostled against her equally flabby hips, half again as wide as her shoulders. The belly that poured in front of her was divided into two heavy rolls, and shook violently even in the straining confines of her dress. The pale material clung to every bump and fold it could find, drawing in between her belly rolls as though she was wearing a belt. HEr breasts, always large, were being pressed up into her second chin, spilling over the top enough that you couldn’t even see her necklace as you looked at her head on. She wore a wide-brimmed hat to help stave off the heat, but with so much insulation, and this much unwanted movement, it looked to be doing little good. Barely a few yards from the airport doors,there was a faint sheen on her face.
Slowly, she huffed and puffed towards you, bouncing with every step. And with every step, her face changed a new shade of red. She raised her empty hand to wipe the sweat from her brown, the hanging flab on her upper arm only just leaving her side. As she drew closer she held out her phone, prompting you to hold her bag open to receive it. She took up a spot next to you, panting. From between her breasts, she pulled out a small fan, and began wafting herself.
“That’s a handy storage space.” You remarked, bumping yourself up against her soft hip.
“Saves carrying my bag around all the time.” She smiled coquettishly, before throwing her head back and letting out a groan. “Dang, it’s hot today!”
“Tell me about it. You’re supposed to be used to it, how do you think I feel?”
“I swear, I don’t know, Honey.” Licking her lips, she glanced down at the backs. “We got any more sweet tea in there?”
You did, and you passed her a quart. She took it gratefully, chugging it quickly. A small trickle managed to escape her mouth, running down her chins and into her cargo hold. Beneath the fat, her throat worked, funnelling the sugary drink into her waiting belly. It joined the copious pile of fried chicken that had already made it’s home there between you leaving the jet and leaving the building. Tara had claimed she needed it to calm herself after the embarrassment she had suffered leaving her seats. Namely, getting wedged in the doorway after she forgot to turn sideways. The cabin crew were sympathetic. The passengers behind……..not so much.
After that, Tara had claimed that she was going on a diet for the hundredth time that year. While at the same time stuffing herself with chicken thighs and fries. You would normally balk at the price of airport food, but Tara’s daddy was paying your way from the moment you had boarded the plane. Which of course meant that your darling wife had gotten extra milkshakes and a pack of donuts from Krispy Kreme. And that was the end of your wife’s silly diet talk.
“Where are they?”
Five minutes had gone since she had finished the sweet tea, and now Tara was getting impatient. She wasn’t used to spending this much time on her feet anymore, especially with the hot weather. She pouted, looking around. Seeing nothing, she stamped her foot lightly, a ripple coursing through her flab. She held out her hand to you. “Pass me my phone, Honey. I’m gonna ring daddy.”
“There’s no need to do that, it’s barely been five minutes since you got off the phone with him.” You took a look yourself, and saw a black minivan approaching. It moved slowly, before speeding up a little and heading towards you. “See? They’re here.” You began picking up the bags you could carry. Tara looked at you in confusion.
“Where’s the guy that carried them out? Shouldn’t he be here to help us load up?” Seeing your raised hand and wry smile, she got the hint. “Oh, gosh! Honey, I’m sorry, you should have said.”
“It’s fine, really. You had a call to make.” You gave her a peck on the cheek as the driver got out, tasting the sweat. The driver, as it turned out, was Roberta, looking smart in a shirt and slacks, and filling them out with a decidedly pudgy form that was just a little heavier than you remembered. Evidently, she had already been briefed about her charge’s weight situation, showing no surprise as she grabbed two of your cases.
“Good to see you again, Miss Tara.” Roberta nodded respectfully, looking professional right up until Tara smothered her in what must have been a very warm and damp hug. “M-Miss Tara…...can’t breathe…….” Her voice muffled under the pile of lard that was around her, Roberta feebly tried to push her away, before relenting and returning the hug. They parted after a few seconds, and you were able to get Tara into the back seats of the vehicle. It took her leaning on both you and Roberta for support to let her lift her fat leg high enough, and some pushing on her rear that you were very enthusiastic about to get the jiggling mass in position. You notice a coolerbox on the remaining seat, and shot Roberta a quizzical look. “Miss Braxtynne sent me with some treats for her daughter.” Sliding the door shut, she gestured for you to get in the cab. You couldn’t help but notice that she was addressing you with far less respect than she did Tara. And that made for a rather quiet drive to the mansion where you would be staying for the next few weeks.
Yes, mansion. Pure white, and about as wide as your street, it loomed before you as you pulled up, the double doors flung wide open above an immaculate deck. Just from the outside, you could count eight bedrooms. There were probably more, but you weren’t ready to think about that. You were just trying to understand that Tara came from a place that could have housed your entire known family. Roberta noticed your look of wonder, sighed deeply, and spoke for the first time since you set off. “It’s an old plantation house. Mister Raymond bought it with his first million, along with the land we’ve been driving through.”
“Wait, how much land? We only just passed the gates.”
“The gates are just to keep the animals out. Mister Raymond owns the ranch to the south, and the cornfields to the west. Plus a buffer zone of about two square miles in the other two directions.”
You couldn’t even begin to imagine that much land. You slumped in your seat as the van pulled up in front of the door. You got out, still in silent amazement as you opened the door for your wife. Getting her out was easier than getting her in, the wide doorway meaning that she could gradually slide out, with only light support from you. Tara was all but bouncing with excitement, pulling you towards the house by the arm. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Roberta stuffing a cake box into the now-empty coolerbox. Then you were p dragged along by six hundred pounds of southern belle, as Tara mounted the three creaking steps with only a slight drop in enthusiasm. Before she could call out, however, A woman’s voice called out, in a much thicker accent, than Tara’s own.
“Tara? That you, puddin’?”
Tara’s mother turned out to be……
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