Chapter 1

I remember seeing Dejax when she'd newly arrived at the company where I worked. She was shy, a little overweight, long dark hair, very natural looking. She worked in a different division to me and as a result our paths rarely crossed. Our relationship wasn't more than a friendly smile if we passed, or a formal greeting.

By the time I met her in a gay club, she'd blossomed. She'd lost weight, her hair was now cut in a chic asymmetrical style and dyed red, she dressed very elegantly and had a confident glow about her. I'd noticed her there, but it was she who came over to say hello. She offered to buy me a drink and we started to chat. She was uncomfortably direct, asking me almost immediately about my sexuality. I confirmed that I was lesbian, which seemed to please her. "And are you here with your girlfriend?" she asked. She wasn't subtle, but that was refreshing.

"No, I'm single," I said.

"Well that's good news," she laughed. "Let's see if we can't find some way of ending our days as single girls."

She was a lot of fun and by the end of the night I felt that our relationship might be something special. She'd told me something about herself, that she had come to England to finish school, then to study at university (she'd completed a Ph.D. before coming to work at the chemical factory where we were employed). She was born in Jertul, a strange country in the south east of Europe, but certainly the most mysterious. It was a tiny state, ringed by mountains. It had remained isolated for much of its history, and as a result its culture was unique. Christianity had never gained much of a foothold and the dominant religion was inspired by a twelfth century mystical philosopher called Munk. His ideas were difficult to summarise and few outside Jertul knew much about his teachings.

Jertul had remained isolated and impoverished until the mid twentieth century. Rich mineral deposits were discovered, and large amounts of palladium, rhodium and platinum were extracted. Multinational mineral companies were keen to exploit these resources but the president was wise enough to exclude them. Instead, a state company was set up, and the brightest individuals in Jertul were sent to be educated in the best universities in the west. Soon the country had become extremely prosperous. There were families in Jertul who were rumoured to be amongst the wealthiest in the world.

But Jertul had gained a notoriety in recent years because it was widely believed that the feminine ideal there was the obese woman. Its isolation meant that western ideals had never (before the past few decades) influenced Jertulian culture. The ideal for most Jertulians was a very full figured woman (during the years of poverty this was an unattainable ideal for all but the wealthy few) and there had grown up a profitable trade in recruiting chubby western women to marry Jertulians. I'd been unaware of Dejax's origins (her accent was so perfect that I'd assumed she was English) and was keen to find out more about their culture since I was sure our relationship would deepen.

We met a few days later at a restaurant and I asked Dejax to tell me more about her country. "It's very beautiful, rugged and mountainous. But now there are modern cities which are very exciting."

"The religion, Munk's teaching, has that lost influence?"

"It's not really a religion, like you have here. It's very open ended and there are a lot of interpretations. It's more like a philosophy. For instance, same sex relationships were always tolerated in Jertul. There were times in the past where we were ruled by two monarchs of the same sex. I don't think that happened anywhere else."

"But now it's becoming westernised? Modern ideas are superseding the old?"

"Yes and no. There is a real desire to become a modern country but we haven't lost our individuality. We can adapt Munk's teaching for a technologically advanced state."

"And the..." I paused, unsure how to frame my question. "The love of bigger women?"

She laughed. "You've been hearing all the bad stories about us in the press? It's true, we've always seen fat as beautiful. But our society is very complicated, lots of strange hierarchies. Only certain classes of women are expected to be fat."

"So you were never expected to be large?"

She laughed again. "You British women can hardly even say the word fat. I was shocked at how taboo it is in your culture. When I go back to Jertul I'll put on weight, but in my role I wouldn't be expected to be very fat unless I married as a..." She fluttered her hands in frustration. "Wife is the only word, but when two women marry there's a superior and and an inferior wife, unless it's two women of the highest social rank, where they are both superior. Normally the inferior wife is chosen for her beauty and there's more status for the couple if she's fat."

"You're planning to return to your country?" The pang I felt to think of her leaving made me sure that I was feeling a strong bond growing.

"I am. Next year. My father is starting a chemical plant and I'm here to learn how to help him to develop a modern industrial complex to help our state to grow more independent."

"And if I married you I'd be the inferior?"

"Oh, Xenia! Are you proposing to me?" She giggled convulsively. She looked so beautiful when she laughed.

I was blushing, however. "I didn't mean anything like that, I'm just trying to understand how it works."

"Well then, heart breaker..." She pulled a comically sad expression. "Yes, it would never be permitted for someone with my family's status to be the inferior in a relationship with an outsider. Maybe I'm explaining this wrongly. Superior and inferior are perhaps the wrong words. It's a hierarchical thing, it's not like the inferior wife is seen as any less worthy, just that her role is different. She's expected to be more passive. Most of the artistic women in Jertul are inferior wives, whereas the superior ones are expected to work in industry.

"But if, and I'm only talking hypothetically," I stressed, "I did marry you, would I be expected to gain weight?"

"Oh, certainly. It would be essential if you were to be accepted into my family and circle of friends. Outsiders are made very welcome in our culture but only if they make an effort to assimilate. It's usually expected that a foreigner will become more traditional than most modern Jertulians. A sort of overcompensation."

I felt uncomfortable that I could only be accepted into Dejax's long term future by gaining weight. "When you look at me do you imagine me as I'd be if I were bigger?"

"Oh God, yes! I know that makes some British girls uncomfortable but that's how I've grown up. You're just my type, tall, broad shouldered, strong features. I find you very sexy."

"But I'm not fat..."

"But that can change. I like European women, and I prefer the idea of finding them slim and then seeing them gain weight. Does that shock you?"

I nodded. I found the idea difficult to accept, yet something intrigued me too. I imagined going to a strange land, being entirely dependent on Dejax, but having to change everything about myself to fit in. "It's not something I ever imagined."

"I do like you though, Xenia. I know we're only getting to know each other but I've admired you from afar for a long time. I could make you very happy. My family is wealthy and you could live very well. Don't get frightened, let's get to know each other. We have six months before I leave and by then I hope you'll be ready to decide." As she kissed me I was tingling. I was so proud that she was attracted to me that I was trying to override my discomfort at her desire to change me.



The following weeks were among the happiest of my life as our relationship took flight and I wanted to spend every waking moment in Dejax's company. When we were apart I thought of her constantly, yet we saw each other almost every night. I'd never felt like this about anyone, but every time I tried to think of our long term future I became confused and melancholy. Dejax had made it clear that she would return to her homeland and nothing could change her mind. She'd made a promise to her family that she would return to fulfil a duty to her parents and to her country. Only by following her to that strange country could our relationship have a life beyond a few more months. It seemed inconceivable that I would make a life in Jertul, whose customs and culture seemed odd and alien. Even the language, which I had tried to learn, was beyond me: it was entirely dissimilar to any other European language and used a unique alphabet in which the individual letters seemed to me to vary only subtly. Every word took an effort to transliterate.

Six weeks after our relationship had commenced Dejax returned to Jertul to attend a family event and to consult on some technical matters about the factory where she would work on her return. She would be gone for almost three weeks. Although we spoke daily on the phone, I found her absence unbearable. She was the woman I'd always dreamed of meeting, the one who swept me off my feet, made me extravagant promises, made me feel loved and special, made me tingle with anticipation whenever we met, and fulfilled that anticipation in our private moments. Our separation made it clear to me that I wanted to be with Dejax forever, and that meant I would force myself to overcome my fears about moving to Jertul and accept my role as her wife.

I'd insisted that I wanted to meet Dejax at the airport on her return. I was shocked to see her, however. The woman I saw emerging from the arrivals gate had black hair, cut very short and boyish at the the back and sides, the top longer and stiffly spiked up in an almost punky manner. She was tanned too, her olive skin far darker than I'd ever seen, and wore quite harsh make-up, smudged rings of black circling her eyes, her lips painted a dark crimson.