###Normally Fat

Amy was a girl about whom not much could be said. If I asked you to picture a girl, without description or even any adjectives to qualify her, you'd probably conjure someone like Amy to mind. In all 18 years of her life, she had never come close to being remarkable. Not to say she wasn't "remarkable" in the way that every young lady likes to style herself, of course, it's just that, well, she didn't really offer a lot to remark about. Amy was plain in every sense of the word. She lived in a normal town in one of those flat states that nothing of import ever happens in (She quite literally did live somewhere plain, that is, on the Great Plains of Middle America). She had a normal family; a younger brother and a dog joining her parents to occupy their normal house with a picket fence and walls made of flimsy paper, in the normal American style. From out the population of her normal high school she had chosen the same normal boys to crush on that all her normal friends had. Every few days, as per ritual, Amy would don the standard-issue uniform of a tank top and jeans and escape to the mall, her camouflage seamlessly blending her in to the crowd, indistinguishable and unnoticed. She turned no heads, not for lack of beauty; In fact, Beauty came normally to her, as it did to all the other girls wandering town. Beautiful was normal, and Amy was normal, and Amy was beautiful. But she was not remarkable. And in a place like this, unremarkable was invisible.

Her high school being normal, it had all the cliques you might expect a normal high school to have. There were the ones who dressed in black (or sometimes red!), and the ones with baggy shirts, and the smart ones who wore corny graphic tees their moms bought them. Amy ignored their names. Although one could hardly expect to make a normal high school without them, they were still somewhat abnormal, or at least feigned simulacra of abnormality that only seemed abnormal next to the likes of Amy. Amy was a little jealous of them, though she didn't understand why. After all, they were not beautiful, nor popular, nor did they ever seem to show up anywhere fun, like the mall, or the county fair, or her friend Abigail's pool. They did, however, attract levels of attention that turned Amy green with envy. She saw Tyler on the football team around that girl who always wears a black top with that hideous skull necklace. Like, she's not even hot! Her forehead's bigger and more cratered than the fucking moon! Tyler, for his part, had been teasing the girl for the very forehead in question, in a way only a reassurant mother could somehow construe as flirting.

Amy sighed, feeling herself into the mountain of pillows on her bed. She had been feeling a little out of sorts for the past few days, in the throes of an epiphany on just how oppressive her normality was. She wanted out, but saw no glowing red exit sign at the edge of her bright, idyllic prison. Amy looked out the window. Maybe they were all being outshone by the midday sun that hovered over the cornfield behind her house. With a groan, Amy walked down carpeted stairs to grab a snack to placate her emptiness inside, both literally and figuratively. Her freezer yielded only ice cream sandwiches, one of which she promptly unwrapped. School had let out for the summer, and instead of frolicking outside with a hose like her brother must have been (judging from the screaming emanating from behind the sliding glass doors), Amy was inside, doing not much of anything, occasionally moving from couch to bed and back again, eating another ice cream sandwich, feeling as if she were melting despite the AC running a little too cold. 

Amy let another yawn escape her maw. The vacancy of her life was proving itself torturous. Out of school, with her friends spending their first weeks of summer elsewhere, she had absolutely nothing to do. Surely those weird kids were doing something fun with their time, even if it was probably exceedingly cringeworthy. Amy flopped on her side, sprawling out across the couch. As much as it pained her to admit, she'd rather put up with their terrible music for the sake of something to do than bear the weight of such boredom for who-knows-how long. As she daydreamed, the angsty screech of a teenage band echoed in her head. On second thought, maybe not. But then, how could she stand out? She knew nothing about music and wasn't smart enough to be a nerd. Not that she really wanted to be, though. Amy only envied those weirdos for the way they made their presence felt, not for any of their accessories. She envied the way they were seen. She envied the way everyone else talked to them. She envied the kind of friends they had. She envied even more the kind of enemies they had. At least their tormentors cared enough to go out of their ways to pester them - they were sought, albeit out of some sort of perverse distortion of popularity, but were they not more known than Amy was?

"Wha- No ice cream sandwiches?" Amy's dad stood over the freezer, assessing what damage his daughter had done. "Amy!" Amy craned her neck, offering a tired glance at her father. "Did you eat *all* of these? Last time I checked, there were two family-size bulk boxes of those things in here." "I had a few." Amy was too exhausted from doing nothing all day to sound ashamed. "Amy. If you eat at this rate, you'll get fat. I don't even know how you had room for all those." Amy rolled her eyes. Wasn't this kind of thing called diet policing? Not cool, dad. She slumped further down the sea of throw pillows as her father - a little chubby himself, the hypocrite - made his way upstairs to get changed. Fat, eh? Fat people stood out. Amy groggily rose from the couch, stirred by some feeling of guilt to stand up and throw away her ice cream sandwich wrappers. How cruel it was that fat people, even the ones with vapid, boring personalites, got noticed purely for their hedonistic gluttony. There was no shortage of fat people at the mall, Amy thought. She'd had to make way for their mobility scooters many a time, whose whirring was usually followed by a hushed din of scornful comments from the less horizontally challenged mall-goers. Amy sighed again. Was the only way for someone like her to stand out *really* to gain hundreds of pounds? It felt like she'd never become notable for anything, bar the obvious absurdity of inducing morbid obesity in exchange for judgemental comments. Entering the kitchen, Amy poured herself a bowl of chips before going back upstairs to brood in her room some more.

Even after her friends returned from the far-flung islands they had scattered to on vacation, Amy still found it hard to adjust to life out of school. She spent her days lounging around the house, occasionally mustering the motivation to go see friends to talk about nothing in particular. It could be said that she had acquired an adjective to describe her - unemployed - but owning it would make her seem even less interesting than she already was. Throughout all this, as the summer gave way to fall which gave way to winter, Amy absentmindedly grazed from her kitchen's pantry, fetching snacks as an excuse to move from one room to another. She didn't bother to count how many hors d'oeuvres she ate in a day; she always enough room for dinner regardless. Though the snacking's effects on her waistline crossed her mind every once in a while, Amy found it difficult to be bothered enough to do anything about it. Had going for runs been the normal thing to do, perhaps, she might have given one a shot. But this was Middle America, and there was no way in hell she'd run down an eight-lane road to get anywhere important.

"Amy, um... Those pants are giving you a bit of a muffin top." Abigail looked down at her friend's pale flesh that poked out from between her sweatpants and the hem of her top, giving a politely vague gesture with her hand. "Oh, yeah. I guess so." Amy retreated back to her changeroom to try on a larger size. Abigail had noticed Amy's recent weight gain with veiled concern, as had the rest of her friends. Amy had, as of yet, seemed bissfully unaware, both of her balooning belly and of the snide comments her friends had been making behind her back. Perhaps, Abigail thought, it was time for an intervention. Amy, while not *fat*, had put on enough weight to push the bounds of perfect normality that Abigail and her clique were quite comfortably inside. She was, unfortunately, starting to distinguish herself from the rest of them by means of her seemingly ever-increasing appetite. Abigail contemplated whether to bring it up to Amy. It would be for the best, but she'd have to treat lightly, lest she offend Amy and turn mall atmosphere thick with the smell of new products sour. "Uh, Amy... Have you thought about going on a diet? You're getting a little, well... y'know." Amy looked at her skinny friend who blushed with embarrassment, her tan skin glowing under the store's fluorescent lights, before being hit with a torrent of self-conciousness. She really had been getting fat, huh? That top hadn't been too small, she had been too big! Amy suddenly felt her skin press against the clothes she had found unusally hard to wedge her legs into, felt her belt constrict itself around her waist, her bra bite at her sides. She may not have become a fatty in that moment, but it sure did feel like she had. Amy was stammering, dumbfounded, unsure of how to respond. A normal girl like her should have been offended by her friend for suggesting such a thing, which, granted, she was, but she couldn't help but feel a little guilty pleasure knowing that she differed, in an increasingly more significant way, from the normal girl she had been.

After Amy went through the motions of offence, scowling at Abigail and hurrying out of the store, she went home and polished off a whole tub of ice cream on the cold tiled floor of her kitchen while her parents slept. Fat. She'd show them fat, alright. Despite Abigail's out-of-line comments, Amy still couldn't bring herself to care. In fact, she had to admit that finally *being* something had set something off in her. If her fate was to be the fat friend, than so she would be. Amy might not have been able to play music, or dress well, or do math, but she could eat, and she could make sure that everyone finally had something to say about her, whether good, bad, or simply a statement of burdensome, heavy, sweaty, steamy fact. As much as she would feed off of the lipid-laden food of Normalville, USA, she would feed off of every remark that came from the judging mouths of its inhabitants. Amy shoved another heaping spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, giving herself a little white moustache in the process.

Amy rolled out of bed at 11 AM, around when she usually did, in the gentle sunlight cast through her window and to the quiet sound of birdsong that breathed a little life into her suburban subdivision. One leg at a time, she brought herself to the edge of her queen-sized bed, getting on her feet with a huff. she wouldn't otherwise have had any qualms with staying in her pyjamas all day, but today was a little different. Wedging herself into a pair of sweatpants only marginally less comfortable than the pair she had slept in, Amy prepared herself for the journey to the all-day breakfast buffet. As she waddled out her bedroom door, she felt her extra-extra-extra-large pants ride down a little as her butt shook about with every laboured step she took. Whatever. A little slip of the panties could only draw more attention. She had long since given up trying to pull her overtaxed tops down over her huge, hanging belly after all the jiggling sent them riding up, and she had now resigned herself to nonchalance when it came to her giant wobbly butt deciding to show itself too. At the rate she was gaining, she might have to do without clothes soon. The thought caused Amy to blush. In all honesty, she loved being fat. Her body just begged to be noticed, occupying three seats where anyone else would have taken one, jiggling recklessly whenever she took a step, her nipples pitching tents in every hopelessly-stretched out top that tried to contain her enormity. And the stares that followed her barely restrained display of skin, of judgement, disgust, and arousal... Amy caught herself. It seemed that she had been lapsing into horniness all the time lately. It was probably best she didn't let herself get carried away, after all, the buffet was calling. She made her way down the stairs, her body shaking the whole way, her ample breasts jumping up and down with each step. 

Before leaving, of course, Amy would need a little snack before breakfast to keep her from starving on the 20-minute drive over. Opening up the plastic lid splattered with dollops of icing, she eagerly wolfed down a few slices of rich, sugary cake, hardly bothering to get a plate, ignoring the crumbs that fell to litter her huge expanse of cleavage. Satiated for now, Amy waddled over to her car. Swinging open the door, she readied herself to squeeze behind the wheel. Her SUV was generously spacious, though not spacious enough, even with the seat pushed all the way back. Lifting one heavy leg after the other, Amy felt her thighs pancake out to fill her chair way past its capacity. As she got herself settled in the car, she could feel herself jiggle, her belly practically mushing itself against the steering wheel, and her butt, too big to even let her back touch the seat, against the leather upholstery. Panting from the march all the way over to her garage, Amy took a breather before starting the car. Gods, she was hungry. Without thinking much of it, she reached over to a opportune bag of chips she had stashed on the passenger seat for just such an eventuality. As she inclined to grab it, she felt her belly squish against the stick shift, and her breasts graze the wheel. She really was getting too big to drive, she thought. Being this squished in a big SUV was absurd! Oh, well. Takeout was always an option. Having finished her chips, Amy turned the ignition, feeling her newly sensitive body quiver as the car sputtered awake. 

Pushing around a grey cart laden with overburdened plates, otherwise reserved by the restaurant staff for the elderly, Amy stocked up on all the classics of an American breakfast - Scrambled eggs, Pancakes, Bacon, and a whole host of other greasy items in the sort of meal only someone as unabashedly gluttonous as Amy could conjure. The Restaurant, far from ruing her semi-weekly visits, encouraged them as a way to finish off all their breakfast foods before the lunchtime rush. Amy, long since unable to squeeze herself into a stall, occupied two seats with either massive cheek to feast on the meal spread out on the table before her, hardly aware that her panties were nearly on full display to the shocked public that began to stream in. Out of Amy's sight, and further from her mind, patrons winced at how her engorged breasts sat on the table, the deepening valley of cleavage between them slowly revealing itself as her shirt retreated further and further from her chest. Amy practically hummed with pleasure as she satisfied herself with dozens upon dozens of syrupy pancakes, letting the occasional burp escape her lips. 

Waddling out of the restaurant in a food-induced daze, Amy paid no heed to the bystanders who made way for her massive, wobbling body. Her top, which had been dangerously close to a nip slip, may or may not have given out, judging by its tightness. Though it was beyond Amy's concern, she'd soon be too big for the top, if you could somehow say she wasn't already, too big for the car, too big for the buffet. As she sauntered off, Amy gave one last tug at her pants, setting her butt a-jiggling, giggling at just how pointless any attempt at containing herself was, blushing as she thought about just how big she might get.