america's fattest model

chapter 1

Having all eyes on her was normal for Maddy Henderson, who came from a long line of A list celebrities. Knowing it was because she’d returned from season intermission with an additional fifty pounds of pure lard caked onto her swollen belly made it all the sweeter.

“Goddamn, what’d you do all last month, stuff your face?” Finn, a 6 '5 and 780 pound model and Maddy’s biggest - no pun intended - competitor on America’s Fattest Model leaned forward from his center of the couch perch to grab at her rolls. His heavy breathing echoed through the room from the exertion. This was normal. Maddy smirked, sticking out the heavy apron that hung almost to her knees. She wasn’t quite Finn’s size - just a measly 640 - but being in the 600 club was going to be the difference for her this season, she knew it.

“Fashion weeks are fun and all, but I was mostly there for the food this year,” she joked, looking around the familiar setting. They were in the show’s back room, where the flabulous competitors came to take a load off, gossip, stuff their faces between takes, and on more than one occasion, go on a drug-induced bender of overindulgence. It was nice to be back. She nodded to Hilda, whose weight was clearly still sitting in the 500s. Worse, her overgrown body was still desperately clinging to its ‘big ass, big boobs, flat waist’ curves, a look that hadn’t been popular since the early part of the 21st century. Maddy wanted to pity her, but Hilda was already turning her nose up in the air.

“I read in the tabloids you were the life of every party, nose white with sugar smoke, but sleeping through all the runways. That doesn’t seem very professional for someone trying to be the face of America’s Fattest Model,” she sniffed. Maddy shifted her weight to the side, getting ready to rip the skinny little piece of work a new one. Ever since the beginning of the competition, Hilda had been ruining everyone else’s experience by bitching about their sugar smoke use, and it had never stopped being the most obnoxious part of the show.

Sugar smoke, a drug created to cause a semi-hallucinogenic but blissful high only when taken on a stuffed belly, and whose effects grew stronger the more a person had gorged themselves, was a common drug. It was legal, and while it was technically frowned upon, it had become the most widely used recreational drug in the western world, surpassing even weed, alcohol, and nearly rivaling caffeine itself. Its accidental affects - the majority of the users were morbidly obese - had shifted the entire culture. At a moment in time where obesity was becoming endemic, sugar smoke had made things ten times worse. An entire cultural shift had occurred to where being stuffed was normal. Everyone was fat, from toddlers to grandparents. Extreme obesity was seen as incredibly sexy, and the most alluring silhouettes were for apple shaped bodies with massive stomachs.

“Do you have to start in with your negative energy this early?” Drawled Nell, the resident space cadet of the season. On camera, she came off as having a free spirit energy, the type of person who read tarot cards, wore patchouli, and checked her horoscope before leaving the house. Off camera, she was using sugar smoke by the pound. It wasn’t possible to OD on it that anyone knew of, but if it was possible, it would be Nell who’d find out.

She swept into the circle of competitors carrying a silver tray with lines of sugar smoke and pre-cut straws to use, holding them the way a hostess might brandish a tray of hor d'oeuvres. Maddy’s mouth watered, already craving this. America’s Fattest Model had a ton of downtime between shoots, and so far everyone - except skinny Hilda, anyway - had gleefully entered party after party of overindulgence. After all, how could one claim to be the winner if they weren’t, in fact, obese as hell?

“Maybe you should indulge first, Hilda,” Nell continued, holding the tray just under Hilda’s chin. Maddy and Finn laughed. The final remaining competitor, Jacob, swept in from the dressing rooms and giggled.

“Oh, are we all starting the party so soon? I’m already looking forward to this finale,” he crooned, trying to defuse the situation. Hilda glared, then shoved the tray away from her face. It slipped out of Nell’s hands and clattered to the floor, sending a cloud of sugar smoke into the air and spilling the rest of the contents on the floor. Hilda growled, and Maddy got the feeling she wanted to clap a hand over her nose to make sure she didn’t breathe any of it in. Teetotaler.

“God, Hilda, I can’t wait until you get voted off,” Finn snapped. “You’re such a bore.”

“Hey, hey. Everyone calm down,” Maddy held up her hands. “We’ll be going on stage soon, and we don’t need to be at each other's throats, even if Finn does speak for us all at this point.”

“Keep that to yourself, I don’t mind if Hilda’s still around. Just makes me that much more likely to win at finale,” Jacob teased, patting Hilda on the head. She looked like she was going to explode, and probably would have if a techie in all black hadn’t stepped in.

“We’re ready for filming,” they announced. All of the supermodels trailed after them, doing a final primp to their clothes as they stepped onto the stage and settled into the wide seats. The judges were already there, giving the competitors hungry grins.

Lulu De Borges - affectionately referred to as Mama Lu - took center stage wearing a hot pink pantsuit that accentuated every roll of her vast plateau of a belly. She was the head judge and arguably the number one icon of the fashion world.

To her left was Harriet Klein, a woman who had a vaguely toad-like appearance: skinny legs with an enormously flabby torso and a bulging set of chins. Harriet was the honorary has-been: an icon perhaps twenty years ago, but today’s youth only knew her from her time on America’s Fattest Model.

To the right, Jasmine Aldean was there, dark hair styled into a sleek ponytail. If Mama Lu was the head of the fashion world, Jasmine was the enforcer. Everyone knew who she was. Her modeling work was plastered on billboards from New York to Shanghai. Major fashion brands shucked out millions of dollars to have her wear their clothes, let alone to run campaigns with her. She was so busy that she could only participate in some of the episodes, but that was fine. The guest judges for AFM were usually awesome.

“And… action!” The cameraman called. The stage lights came up, illuminating everyone. Maddy trained her expression to look excited and confident. Inwardly, her heart was pounding. Everything had felt normal backstage, but now? Things had just gotten real. Only five competitors were left, but Maddy had to win. She’d been born for this.

“Welcome back, competitors,” Lulu crooned in a syrupy voice, eyes landing significantly on each of them. “I hope you had a productive time during our four international fashion weeks, and that you had a chance to put your feet up and take a breather. Five of you remain, but only one of you can be America’s Fattest Model. Who has what it takes to reach the top? Let’s find out. By the time the sun goes down tonight, one of you will be walking out of the competition forever.”

At Lulu’s announcement, the competitors gasped and exchanged glances. Usually filming was spread out over multiple days: the main challenge, a mini challenge, and a runway, plus the final judgment scene. Mama Lu grinned, showing perfectly lines of pearly white teeth.

“Oh, I forgot to mention: the reunion backstage? That was your mini challenge. It was interesting. Very interesting, indeed.” Mama Lu’s eyes lingered too long on Hilda, and Maddy’s stomach felt like it was bottoming out. What would Lulu think of Hilda’s teetotaling? Had Maddy said anything incriminating? Hilda had called her out for her sugar smoke usage, but Maddy hadn’t even answered before Nell had tried to get Hilda to take it. Oh, god, she’d never pictured their backstage moments would be filmed for TV. She hadn’t even noticed cameras!

“Before we begin, I believe congratulations are in order,” Mama Lu continued, snapping her gaze across the room. “Maddy, my darling, I hear you’ve crossed over into the 600 club during your break? Very good job. Your increased belly shows your dedication to the assignment at hand. Let’s give her a round of applause, shall we?” As Lu began to clap, the other judges joined in. The competitors did not, of course, but that was to be expected.

“Thank you, Mama Lu,” Maddy said simply when the quiet applause stopped. Lulu winked.

“For today’s competition, you’ll need to bring your A game. We’ve already seen you strut your stuff on the runway, show us your emotions, and sell every product from hamburgers to lingerie to office chairs. The key to being the best supermodel, however, is the ability to sell anything. For today’s challenge we’ve brought in LifeLess Diet Pills, an over the counter non-hormonal hypothyroid treatment proven to help anyone who takes it lose weight, whether they’re having thyroid issues or not.” Something in Mama Lu’s voice caught Maddy’s attention, like sarcasm she couldn’t quite shake despite being filmed. There was a trick here, or a punchline. There had to be.

“Well, if everyone’s ready, let’s head into the studio and get this show on the road!” Mama Lu waved to the competitors, who started to get to their feet.

“And… cut!” the cameraman yelled. Maddy immediately relaxed her shoulders and her bemused grin, but let her thoughts keep going a mile a minute. How was she supposed to sell diet pills when her entire life revolved around getting fatter?
Preorder your copy of America's Fattest Model today from Amazon at
4 chapters, created 1 year , updated 1 year
2   0   1606
12345   loading

More by this author