chapter 4

Butterflies filled her belly as she realized what she'd committed to. She hadn't cut anyone's hair in nearly fifty pounds, and even back then, her belly and breasts got in the way constantly. But she had too much pride to let her weight get in the way of her passion.

The bariatric office chair rolled back and forth as she built up momentum to heave herself to her feet.

"One... Huff... Two... THREE!!"

Amy squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her teeth, and grunted, but only got her ass a few inches off the seat before it came crashing back down.

"Ugh! Fuck! OK... One... Huff... Two.... Huff... THREE!!!"

Amy nearly lost her balance as the bariatric office chair rocketed backwards and her big belly slammed into her desk. She put both hands out onto the desk and caught her breath, or at least tried to. Her breathing was already very heavy and labored, and she was sweating profusely. She wiped her face with a wet wipe and debated telling Samantha "Nevermind, I'm too fat to walk twenty feet and cut hair for 15 minutes." But she was a woman of her word, and she trudged forward.

Amy quite literally waddled out of the office into the salon, her thighs so big and legs so heavy that each step was like deadlifting hundreds of pounds at a time. The girls on Amy's staff went out of their way not to stare at her as she made her way to the nearest empty chair. Mirrors, clippers, dryers, combs, cans of hairspray, and other salon essentials shook in their places as Amy thundered by and got into position. She was sweating profusely and gasping for breath already as her blubbery legs quivered beneath her. As she dabbed sweat from her brow she tried to get her breathing under control, but it was no use. She could feel the eyes of all the customers leering at her as she stood there huffing and puffing. She looked over at Samantha and gave her a thumbs up to send a customer her way.

Samantha sent a young, plump, woman in her early 20's over to Amy, a busty young blonde with light blue eyes, a small belly, thick thighs, and a big ass. She didn't do a very good job at hiding her shock at the 700 pound mountain of flesh that (somehow) stood behind her, but Amy was used to it.

"What... What can I do for ya, darlin'?" Amy asked.

"Just a quick trim. Bring it up around my
shoulders." The girl replied.

"You got it, sweetheart..."

Gravity, however, had other plans. Amy grunted softly to herself as she hoisted her foot up to the pedal that raised the salon seat upward. She waddled over to her scissors as her legs and back ached, begging her to park her big fat ass in a chair before they gave out from under her.

"OK, Amy, just get through this... Just get through this... Ignore everybody else, just focus on the customer..." She thought to herself as she panted uncontrollably.

But as she reached out to grab the girl's hair, she encountered a rather large problem. Her belly was in the way. She could barely touch the tips of her fingers when holding her arms out around her belly, and her breasts partially clouded her view of her client below her. The customer glanced over at her nervously but didn't want to say something in fear of being rude.

"Hold on, sugar, I'm sorry about this..." Amy panted. She brought the chair up two more pumps to its maximum height. It didn't help. Amy sighed. At this point her joints and back were absolutely screaming for relief, and the anxiety of a busy salon full of staff and customers eyeing her like a side show attraction became overwhelming. She leaned in, feeling the arm of the salon chair digging into the immense flab of her belly, and the face of her client sink into her cleavage.

"Sorry honey..." She mumbled as she clipped as
quickly as her sausage-like fingers allowed.

Her client didn't say anything, she was just worried that the enormous, sweaty, panting, behemoth next to her would fall over and crush her and the chair beneath her. If she moved any further to the left she'd be sitting on the armrest, and Amy's cleavage was still encroaching on her personal space. As she shifted her weight yet again and tilted her head to the left, Amy lost her balance (or maybe it just gave up), and Amy fell forward onto the girl, who threw her arms up against the wall of blubber as it came crashing down on her. It was staggering to see just how ineffective her strategy was, and the yelp of the customer was almost instantaneously muted by her fat.

"OH MY GOD, SWEETHEART, I'M... WHOOO... I'M SORRY... WHOOOO OH MY GOD... WHOOO..." Amy gasped. She used the back of the chair and the right armrest to push herself up, an act that took all the remaining stamina she had and more.

"Amy are you alright?! What happened?!" Samantha cried, rushing to her aid.

"Yeah... Yeah, I'm fine... I'm... Fine... Listen, I'm not feeling very well. Take care of her and give her a year's worth of free haircuts. Write down her name, whatever, just do it. I'm leaving early..." Amy wheezed.

"OK, Amy." Samantha squeaked back, concern in her face and voice.

Amy fought the tears as she waddled to her office, grabbed her purse, and made a beeline out the back door to her SUV. She closed her eyes tightly and let out an agonized grunt as she heaved herself up the step into the front seat. Even with its modified seat, the car was a tight fit for Amy, whose fat bulged into the steering wheel and center console. Her ass and side fat kept her from closing the door without leaning heavily to the right first. She struggled to catch her breath after getting more physical activity than she'd gotten in at least two years. She was so exhausted and drained emotionally and physically. Her bones ached and her eyes were heavy as she sat there trying to regain her composure. Then, almost as if on cue...

...Her stomach growled.

(TO BE CONTINUED, FEEDBACK WELCOME)