chapter 1, part 1

After getting hassled by the reception staff for not already having a company ID before she'd even begun her first day of work, Eleanor Lowood wondered to herself why she'd ever applied to Giant! Corporation in the first place. Was it the trendy, downtown campus, that boasted perks like free beer and endless "healthy" snacks? Or the fact that it was ranked a top 500 company and had been voted one of the best places to work by Shill Magazine? No, she thought, smiling wryly to herself. It was because at the college recruiting fair, she'd liked the photos that they'd had displayed of the new CEO, George Ashe. Pictured in his signature vested suit, tall and portly with short dark hair and icy eyes, he looked like he was literally the giant behind the name. She recalled how she'd seen a video interview of him a few months back, where the camera had zoomed in and focused on how his thick belly and bottom were filling his chair on the set, before the interviewer asked him how he felt about his history of taking big executive bonuses in order to allegedly save dying companies. He'd said something fiery in a posh British accent about how it was only a fraction of what he ended up making for corporate shareholders, when he was indeed saving their failing assets. Eleanor admired his hot-headed passion, which had probably served him well in his career, but she'd admired his hot body even more. She'd never claimed to be a deep woman. And that's what got her here, today.

Growing up, she'd always had a fascination with the few big boys that she spied around her school, but they were very few and never in her class. Consequently, she'd never seriously dated anyone; the other boys just didn't hold her interest, no matter how "cute" the other girls declared them, and she couldn't explain why. They just seemed like they were lacking something, and didn't hold a candle to the fat TV actors that she found herself crushing on instead. She'd hoped that situation would change when she went off to study humanities at Spruce State College, and had it! Not only were there big guys around, but there were almost always a few in each class -- and that number just grew during her four years there, thanks to the all-you-can-eat cafeteria, and how every campus club used free pizza, soda, cake, and cookies to bribe students to meetings. She began to take note of a small group of students that she internally termed "The Grazers," who seemed to be attending a different event in the Student Hall every night of the week, dutifully showing up just to enjoy snack time, as attested to by their strained belts and missing buttons.

After settling in for a few weeks, Eleanor decided to get involved in student life herself, and picked an environmental activism club that frequently held bakesales and donut fundraisers for the vague cause of a healthier campus ecology -- mainly just because she wanted to meet the kind of clientele that would be drawn to buy even more treats when there were already so many free ones to go around. She smiled sweetly and turned on the charm with each big guy who came by, hoping to build a rapport with someone cuddily that would lead to a date. That dream ended with a rude awakening -- literally. Her flirtations and invitations to dinner were often met with sneers, rebuffs, and skepticism, as if something were wrong with her. Unlike the warm and fun-loving chubby characters on TV, the real thing could be quite rude. It left her dismayed, as she couldn't understand why this happened. Was a bakesale the wrong place and time? She tried reapproaching some of the same guys after class or elsewhere, and had the same or worse results. An association began forming in her mind between fatness and disagreeable personalities. Her dream for college dating faded, and she gave up, alleviating her sadness by throwing herself into her studies and campus job. Done with unrequited crushes, she started hooking up with whomever would have her, regardless of her own lack of attraction, and went through a series of unfulfilling, uncommitted relationships with bland, skinny boys where it felt like talking about sex was the only way for her to get any positive male attention.

That's how she found herself here at her job today, thinking with her loins again as she'd stupidly been drawn in by the prospect of having some impeccably-dressed eyecandy as her boss. In reality, she'd probably never see him in person at all. It was a huge, sprawling corporation, and four years of being a top student at her college had only made her good enough to be hired for the secretary pool. Sorry, "Personal Assistant." She made a face at that term, but knew that "secretary" was no longer considered correct language, and language mattered. Once allowed inside the building, she sat in the lobby while waiting for her first assignment. Spread out on the coffee table before her were a collection of magazines featuring photos and headlines about the new CEO. "The fatman may be a miracle-worker, but he's no jolly ol' St. Nick," read one tagline. "Make room for the new Big Boss in town," read another. "Can he last long enough to save the company? A look at the health toll of corporate life," read a sensationalist one, as if Ashe was going to abruptly drop dead from his weight at any moment. Eleanor rolled her eyes, but flipped the rag open to see if there was a photo shoot featuring him.

A ruefully smiling HR worker appeared next to her. "Miss Eleanor?" This made Eleanor wince. She hated when anyone addressed her that way. But she hid it with a smile while she stood. "Miss Eleanor, we have a special opportunity to offer you. We know that you had your heart set on being a Personal Assistant," that was a lie; she'd just done a general job application. "But we just had an opening for Executive Assistant pop up. Would you be interested in that?" The woman tilted her head to the side and the unhappy smile returned. Eleanor raised her eyebrows and blinked. Well, that at least sounded like a pay upgrade. She honestly didn't see much of a difference, otherwise. "Absolutely!" she replied, faking enthusiasm.

Pleased, the other woman narrowed her eyes, then motioned for Eleanor to come with her.

--

Eleanor couldn't catch her breath and felt as if her heart were beating out of chest as she walked down the main corridor of the Executive Floor. She arrived at the door, paused for a beat to try to calm herself (it didn't help), and then stepped inside. There, seated on the corner of his desk, was George Ashe. Yes, she really had been made Executive Assistant to the CEO on her first day. Her life was finally changing for the better. Maybe hard work did pay off in the end.

In three-dimensions, he looked even bigger than she'd pictured. Or maybe he'd put on more weight. In her amateur estimation, he was well over 350. He looked up from his desk, and rose expectantly when he saw her. She froze, her heartbeat thudding in her ears as she stared, wide-eyed. "I'm Eleanor Lowood, your Executive Assistant," she blurted out, feeling her heart swell in saying it.

His expression turned cold as he walked closer, frowning down at her. Then he sighed in exasperation, going behind his desk and collapsing in his Big & Tall executive chair. Hands over his face, he mumbled, "Those frumpy old hags in HR have done it again. Do I have to micromanage everything, here?" Inside, she sank lower than she ever had before at hearing this. She didn't understand what she could've possibly done wrong already. Again, her dreams were dashed.

He composed himself and gave her a lugubrious look. "Sweetheart, you're too beautiful for this line of work. I can't believe they've sent you here." He raised his hands in an exaggerated shrug, then slammed his thick palms on the desk top. "Well, we'll just have to make do for the moment, unfortunately. I need the help to keep above water, for now."

Her heartbreak at being inadequate then turned to indignation. Did he think that she wasn't smart or capable enough to do this job, because she wasn't ugly? She couldn't believe that she was hearing such unabashed sexism, and on her first day. She was shaking.

He gathered up some scattered folders from his desk, and held them out to her. "See if you can file these away, darling. And don't forget -- actually, those confounded scolds probably didn't tell you -- teatime is at 3. Is it too much to expect that your predecessor left behind the instructions in your desk? Well, if they're not there, just do as you think best with what's in the kitchen. Tea at 3."

Eleanor's ears burned. Did he really think that she was too incompetent to make tea? And what had happened to the previous assistant? Ashe hadn't been here more than a couple of months. She lowered her head, silently turned and left his office, going to her own adjoining one to do the filing. "See if you can," she mockingly mumbled while working, then stopped as a thought hit her. Had she intentionally been set up with what must be the worst job for her first day? Did they do this because they knew that Ashe was a sexist pig who hated pretty women? Did HR hate her, too? She slumped down at her desk, fuming, then rifled through the drawers. The desk was virtually empty -- the previous occupant hadn't left anything beyond some office supplies. Great, so now he was going to think that she couldn't even do tea right, because she didn't have his precious instructions for whatever abstruse way that he liked it.