Angels in the big house (part two)

chapter 1

Over the ensuing weeks and months, Miss Angie cornered me several more times, each time it was the same routine: she would handcuff me to a chair in the storeroom and force me to eat copious amounts of food. Sometimes it was more candy bars, sometimes it was snack cakes. One of the times she just poured gallons and gallons of water down my throat, causing my belly to swell up like an oversized water balloon.

It was becoming a regular habit for us, to the point where I came to expect it at least once or twice a week. Needless to say I was gaining tons of weight. Before I knew it I had become nearly as fat as Miss Angie herself.

The rest of the corrections staff was perplexed as to how and why I was getting so fat. It wasn’t as though the food in the commissary was particular nourishing in any way. I had to be resized several times for my orange prison smock, as I kept outgrowing them; even at the absolute biggest size that was available, my protruding belly pressed tightly against the seams.

I was sent to see the in house prison physician in order to determine why I was gaining so much weight. The doctor, a Brazilian woman in her mid-fifties, was astonished as she read my chart.

“It says here that you have gained over 100 pounds in just the last four months,” she said. “That is very unusual, especially for a woman in prison. What’s going on?”

“Umm, I’m not sure,” I told her, afraid of saying anything that could possibly incriminate Miss Angie and get me locked up in the hole. I made up some jive about how my mother and her sisters all gained a lot of weight suddenly when they were around my age, and that it must be something hereditary.

“Well let’s run some tests and see if we can figure this out,” the doctor said.

They took my blood and ran a whole slew of tests, including a pregnancy test. That came back negative, of course, but they did determine that my blood sugar was getting very high. Still within normal range, not diabetic, but on the higher end of normal all the same. I was prescribed a regimen of regular exercise, forcing me to spend at least an hour each day doing laps around the yard.

Of course, the person tasked with overseeing my exercise routine was none other than Miss Angie.

“Come on, fatty!” she would scream at me through a bullhorn, while huffed and puffed, my face grimacing in pain. “Pick up the pace! We don’t have all day!”

My belly was getting so big and round that it bounced up and down against against my knee caps as I did my best to run as fast as my chunky body could handle. My heart was beating so hard it felt like it would pop right out of my chest, and my legs felt as though they would buckle under the sheer weight of all my girth.

‘Ugh! Miss Angie! I’m so tired and thirsty!” I whined miserably. “Can’t I stop now and have some water?”

“You’re going to keep running until I tell you to stop!” she hollered. Once again I felt the tears welling up in my eyes as Miss Angie pushed me to the brink of emotional exhaustion.

“Aww, what’s the matter?” she taunted, coming right up to me and getting in my face. “Are you going to cry?”

“No, ma’am!” I said. Then she got real close to me and whispered in my ear. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make it up to you later.” Then she bit my ear and gave me a pat on my big round tummy.


True to her word, Miss Angie gave me another epic stuffing later that evening. This time it was Twinkies I think. She stuffed enough of those things down my throat to feed an army. Once again, I was stuffed nearly to the point of busting, and afterward I dragged my fat ass back to my cell in pain and agony.

This time my cellmate Lola was still awake. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she started asking me all sorts of questions.

“Were you with Miss Angie?” she asked poking her head down from the top bunk where she was laying to see me slumped down in my bunk like the fat slug that I was.

“What?” I said. “What are you talking about? Why would you think I’d be with Miss Angie?” I was trying my best to not sound suspicious; I was maybe trying a little too hard.

“Well, no offense,” she said, “but you’ve been getting really fat lately. I thought Miss Angie must have chosen you to be one of her -- ‘special girls.’”

Staring at Lola’s obnoxious upside-down face, I started getting really annoyed, on top of already being immensely stuffed and in pain; I was confused about what she was saying, and I was ready to lose my patience.

“Special girls?” I quizzed. “What the hell are you talking about, Lola?”

“You know,” she said, “the special girls that Miss Angie really likes. She takes them aside and fattens them up. Everybody calls them ‘Angie’s Angels.’”

“Angie’s Angels?” I thought to myself. “Does that mean that I’m not the only one she’s been doing this to?”

“Yeah, she has at least one girl in each cell block,” Lola went on to say. “If you look around, there’s a bunch of fat girls walking around with huge bellies; I guess you’re the one she chose from out block. You’re so lucky! I would love to get fattened up!”

I didn’t say anything else. I couldn’t. I had to find out more about what was going on before I could really do or say anything about it. I began investigating, and sure enough, each cell block had one girl who, like me, had inexplicably gained a lot of weight in a short period of time.

There was this white girl named Marcy in cellblock A, she by far had gone through the biggest gains. People said that when she first came in two years ago she was a scrawny little waif, barely a hundred pounds. Now she weighs in at nearly four hundred!

This black girl named April in the next block, she was also well over three hundred pounds, but it all went to her ass and thighs. Then there was this short little asian girl named Kelley, she was only about 4 foot 10 high, but weighed nearly as much as the other girls. She was so plump and round, she looked like a little butterball.

Then there was me, Carlita the chunky Spanish-girl from cellblock D. The four of us together made up “Angie’s Angels.” I don’t know who came up with that name, but apparently everyone knew who we were — everyone except for us.

That was about to change.