Chapter 1 - My new home

I gaze out of the car window from the back seat, my breath fogging up the glass. The world outside rushes by in a blur, the fields and hedges alongside the motorway having now changed to shops and houses, as we make our way along a main road taking us through the outskirts of a town.

"Fiona, are you even listening to me?" My foster mother Jenny's voice cuts through my thoughts, sharp and irritated.

I drag my eyes away from the rows of houses and meet her gaze in the rear view mirror. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, her brow furrowed in frustration.

"What?" I mumble, my words feeling thick and sluggish in my mouth.

Jenny sighs heavily, her fingers tightening on the steering wheel. "I said, you've made us late, taking so long to get ready, and now we have all this traffic."

I shrug, shifting on my soft bottom. "So?"

"So? Fiona, this is important. You're meeting your new family today. What were you doing upstairs all that time? You could at least have put on a nice dress to make a good impression, instead of just wearing those old leggings of yours."

I glance downwards, noticing the way my leggings hug the circumference of my large pot belly, the navy blue material accentuating the bulk of my widely spread thighs. The elastic waistband cuts in around my middle, causing a roll of fat to hang over the top, clearly defined by the stretchy fabric of my polyester top.

"I'm comfortable like this," I say, the stuffiness of my nose evident in my voice.

Jenny scoffs, shaking her head. "Comfortable. That's all you care about, isn't it? Being comfortable and filling that fat tummy of yours."

I feel a twinge of anger at her words, but I push it down. Instead, I let a smirk play across my lips. "Maybe."

Jenny glances at me in the mirror again, her eyes narrowed. "You know, Fiona, when you first came to live with me, I had high hopes for you. You were only eighteen then, just lost your mother - I thought I could help you get on your feet, maybe find some independence. But here you are two years later, and you've just allowed yourself to become fatter and lazier as time's gone by."

I meet her gaze, holding it steadily. "Yeah, well, maybe that's what I wanted all along."

Jenny's mouth falls open for a moment before she snaps it shut, her eyes darting between me and the road.

"Oh don't be ridiculous, Fiona. Stop acting like a child." She shakes her head vigorously.

"Well be careful what you wish for because things will only get worse for you in that respect once you start living with the Thompson family. You realise that, don't you? They're not the right kind of people for you to be around at all, especially with your disposition. I've deliberately tried to keep you away from them, you know. You won't have seen your aunt Mavis for a few years, but she's only become even fatter, absolutely huge. And your uncle Arthur's not far behind. Both so fat it's disgusting."

It may have been a few years ago, but I still vividly remember the last time they came over to visit us at my mother's house. Mavis was indeed very fat, so fat she could hardly get up out of her seat when it came to leave, and my mind boggles as I try to imagine how they must look now.

"I tried to explain this to social services on numerous occasions," Jenny continues with evident frustration, "but they weren't prepared to listen - too pleased with themselves at finding you somewhere to live, without having to push you out into the community.

"Can you imagine that Fiona? A 20 year old girl as simple as yourself, having to cope with life on your own out in the big wide world? You'd never do it. Still, the Thompson's won't be any better, they'll only be a bad influence on you."

I shift in my seat, the seatbelt digging in uncomfortably across my chest. "But they're family, right? Isn't it better to be with my own family?"

Jenny sighs, rubbing her forehead. "Distant family, Fiona. Very distant. And just because they're related doesn't mean they'll be any good for you. I had hoped for so much more for you."

I stare back out the window, watching the houses blur by. "Like what?"

"Like a normal life, Fiona. A job, a family of your own someday. But living with the Thompsons... it'll only lead to one thing. You'll end up just like them - very fat, lazy, and probably just as stupid."

Her words sting, but I refuse to let it show. Instead, I let a small smile play across my lips. At least I'll be away from Jenny's constant disapproval, away from her endless lectures about portion sizes and her disgusted looks every time I reach for seconds. Whatever the Thompsons are like, surely they can't be worse than living under Jenny's critical gaze every day. The thought fills me with relief, but it's tinged with anxiety. What if they don't like me? What if they take one look at my plain face and dumpy figure and decide I'm too boring, or too much of a burden to look after?

I gaze back at her in the rear view mirror, taking in the tight line of her mouth, the furrow between her brows. "It'll be okay, Jenny. You don't have to worry about me any more anyway."

She meets my gaze in the mirror, her eyes softening for just a moment. "I know, Fiona. I know."

We sit in uncomfortable silence for quite some time, travelling into an established housing estate of modern semi-detached dwellings, with tree lined avenues joined by roundabouts. Finally, we turn into a quiet cul-de-sac of around 9-10 houses, with well-kept, open plan gardens and tidy driveways. My heart starts to beat a little faster as Jenny slows the car, looking for the right address.

"Number twelve, that's it there on the right," Jenny mutters, pulling up outside a sandy coloured brick house with white weatherboarding.

Pressing my face against the glass, I peer eagerly at the front garden. It looks just like all the others - a neat lawn with flower beds, a drive to the side leading up to a garage, and a short flight of steps leading up to the front door.

Jenny kills the engine and I feel a flutter of nerves in my belly. This is it, the moment I've been waiting for. A new start, with a new family. People who will hopefully understand me.

"Right then, let's get you out and sorted," Jenny says, opening her door.

I wait as she walks around to my side of the car, my hands clammy with anticipation as she pulls the door open for me to get out. Stretching out a thick leg, I probe for solid ground beneath my foot, then gripping the door frame, heave myself up out of the car with a grunt.

I can see the look of embarrassment and resignation on Jenny's face as she takes in my appearance. She's the complete opposite of me in every way, her clothes fitting perfectly, hugging her slender curves, her short brown bob swaying as she shakes her head in disapproval. Without a word, she pushes her thumbs under the elastic of my leggings and eases them up the bulge of my pot, covering the top of my white underpants where they've become exposed, leaving the waistband sitting high around my middle. Taking a damp wipe out of her bag she dabs at my mouth, cleaning away any stray crumbs or smears of food, then runs her fingers through my tousled hair in an attempt to neaten it.

"There, that's a bit better I suppose," she mutters, giving me one last critical look over.

Wrapping her thin fingers around my plump hand, she leads me along the path and up the short drive, her strides purposeful and brisk as if wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. As she ascends the steps to ring the doorbell, I wait, my heart pounding in my chest, nerves and anxiety swirling in my belly. The mottled shadow of a broad man appears through the frosted glass of the door, I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as the door swings open. Arthur stands there, a broad grin shining across his ruddy face.

"Ah, there you are!" he exclaims, his voice booming. "And a very warm welcome to both of you."

He's even larger than I remember, an enormous belly straining against his checked shirt, with moobs resting heavily on top, a pair of brown slacks with a missing top button stretching smoothly around his vast gut.

He opens his arms wide, a sudden gust of wind catching the strands of his grey comb-over, "Aw Fiona, what a sight for sore eyes. Come here and give your Uncle Arthur a big hug!"

Almost involuntarily I climb the steps, sinking into his warm embrace, his arms pulling me in against his soft, expansive body. I'm engulfed by him, my face pressed into his chest, my nostrils filled with the scent of sweat and cooking. Rarely have I been hugged of late, and never by such a fat man. His body is soft and yielding, my own corpulent form sinking into his.

He plants a wet kiss on my forehead, his bristly chin tickling my skin. "Welcome, my dear," he says, his voice a deep rumble that I feel as much as hear. "We've been so looking forward to having you join our family."

Jenny clears her throat, her voice tight. "Yes, we're sorry to be late. Traffic was terrible."

"Ah Jenny, good to see you again," Arthur reaches over, lightly shaking her hand, "No matter, no matter at all. You're here now, and that's what counts."

“Well come on in then,” he gestures us into the hallway, “You don’t have to stand outside you know.  Mavis is dying to meet you both and there’s tea and cakes to be had in the lounge.”