Chapter 7

Egress’s fame was growing, slowly spreading across America and even England as more people became aware of her upcoming show and she was invited to do a number of TV spots promoting it. Her belly, however, was growing faster. A mere two and half weeks after the ‘flaming bees’ conversation, her weight had hit an utterly staggering 500lb- a fact which she took care to flaunt on every televised appearance she was handed.

One fine, bright Tuesday morning, she was recording a plug for her program on The One Show, her thick thighs spread across the couch, her belly engulfing them and her breasts straining at the thin and inadequate shirt that sort to confine them. The presenter was asking her some fatuous question about what her show was trying to achieve, but she could barely hear him above the low rumble building in her gut. She had long ago embraced her appetite wholeheartedly- the problem was that giving an appetite as impossible as hers free reign had only led to its exponential growth. This wouldn’t have been a problem as far as Egress was concerned had it not been distracting her during an interview. She tried to make herself focus and take her mind off her tremendous girth.

This feat, however impressive it was, turned out to be a wasted effort however, since the show was interrupted by the remarkable appearance of a heavily armed man barging through the crowds towards her. Over the panic of the crowds, Egress heard the man cry out:

“Get that fat slut off the television!” before he loosed a number of bullets in her general direction from the butt of a large, grey rifle he carried. Thankfully for Egress, his aim was put off by a member of the audience- Polygon, in fact, who’d been sitting near the front row- grabbing the attacker’s gun-wielding arm and wrenching it upwards, causing his aim to go rather wide of the mark. The would-be assaulter turned to face Polygon in a blind fury, adjusting his gun to aim at the spindly young man’s chest. Egress seized her opportunity- at her weight, she was unable to run effectively, but she was still quite strong. She heaved one of the lighter chairs on The One Show’s set- a frankly flimsy affair, no heavier than a garden deckchair- and lobbed it inexpertly at the man wrestling Polygon for control of the gun. She was convinced she had only narrowly avoided giving herself a heart-attack, but the thrown chair found it’s mark and knocked the attacker enough of balance to allow Polygon to wrench away the gun and throw it to one side.

In the silence that followed, Polygon sighed and said “that could have been a little nasty,” in what may have constituted the single largest understatement of the month. Egress hauled herself down from the stage, jiggling and out of breath, her shirt and trousers ripped slightly from the mass of flesh moving inside them when she had grabbed the chair.

“Yeah. Nice one,” she said.

***

“What exactly was that all about?” Polygon was asking the representative of the BBC who’d been sent round to see them at the London hotel they had temporarily moved to for the filming of The One Show.

“I honestly don’t know,” admitted the BBC rep. “We’re so very sorry to both of you that nobody stopped this man! I can’t believe that this was allowed to happen!”

“It’s alright,” Egress wondered in from the kitchen, a bucket of ice-cream tucked under her arm and a wooden spoon dripping with the stuff in her hand. “Does anyone else want any of this stuff before I finish it off, by the way?”

“No- you carry on,” Polygon said.

“I’m glad you’re taking this so well Ms. Egress,” the BBC rep nodded, relieved. “Most people in your position would be very distraught right now.”

“I’m controversial,” Egress said flippantly. “I suppose I should have seen the possibility that I’d cause a stir coming, really.” She flopped down onto a couch, causing it to emit a noise that undoubtedly indicated that she had broken much of its internal structure.

“That was a bit more than causing a stir,” Polygon said, resting an affectionate hand on his lover’s shoulder. “That was attempted murder!”

Egress pulled him down to her level to kiss him. “I’ll be fine!” she said. “There’s too much of me for one fruitcake with a gun to take down!”

“I don’t think it quite works like that,” Polygon said, though Egress’s self-confidence had relaxed him enough to settle down on the couch next to her.

“I’m fine,” Egress said again. “Actually, I am a little worried about Bon Mot and Entré.” She turned to the BBC rep- “we left them in America,” she explained.

“They’ll be fine.” Polygon put an arm about Egress, pulling her closely to him. “Our friends are tough cookies... still, I wouldn’t mind getting back to the States as soon as possible just to be sure.”

Soon after this, the BBC rep left and Egress and Polygon began packing for the trip back to the USA.

“You know- it’d be really nice if we could do something without all this weird shit happening someday,” Egress mused, lounging on the hotel bed, finishing off a second bucket of ice-cream while Polygon stuffed shirts into a suitcase.

“Hey- I’m sure we will one day. It’s just we do tend to attract an unfair amount of crazy crap.”

“I know. When we first got together, I got kidnapped by the government and held in a fat-camp. Now I’m trying to go on TV and we find ourselves fending off heavily armed weirdoes. Go figure.”

“Hey- maybe next time the weird stuff will be cool instead of awful,” mused Polygon.

“What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we could develop superpowers?”

“That would be awesome,” Egress agreed. “And not much less likely than the shit that’s happened to us lately anyway.” She tossed the empty ice-cream bucket to one side. “You want to go get me another one of these?”

Polygon gave Egress a quick, soft kiss on her plump lips before wandering out in search of ice-cream. While he was searching for it, Egress mused that one day, they really would have to try and do something that didn’t involve attacks from random and unexpected quarters.