14 - Tale of the Sideshow - The Fat Woman

Jason glowered as he picked up the next candle.

"I didn't want to tell this story tonight. It's not a nice one. No happy ending. Some things in life are just like that. Nasty," almost spat the word. "And things in the sideshow can get nastier than you imagine. So let me tell you about

THE FAT WOMAN

"Obesity is epidemic today. Back in the old days, heyday of sideshows and carnivals, it was more scarce. You could get away with a fat man or a fat woman. Nowadays, though, like the sideshow itself, it's in bad taste. Folks don't just want to see a woman that's four or five hundred pounds. They can see that in the local Walmart. To them, that's an object of scorn more than pity, wonder, or fascination," Jason said. "So what happens is, you need another hook. Something else to draw them in."

He passed his palm over the candle flame.

"The Boss recruited Bess from overseas. She didn't speak at all, but seemed to understand English well enough. Dark. Long hair in braids. Dark skin. Four hundred and fifty pounds, with sagging breasts and an ass like a shelf. Amazingly, she was still mobile under her own power. Boss said she had potential, but we needed to build her up. Give her a gimmick. So we had a new trailer and the carpenters got to work. Made it look like a temple, with her sitting there on a stone couch, braziers on either side. Almost naked—her belly hid her cooch from view, and she had these little jeweled pasties on her nipples. The idea was the crowd would bring her offerings, and she'd eat them."

Jason held his hand steady over the flame for a long moment.

"I hear there are people on the internet that do these eating contest things. Just gorge themselves sick and bloated. And I know there's some perverts out there, the whole feeding a woman thing becomes a fetish with them. The boss had a plan, though. A couple of us working the crowd. Someone would run forward with some popcorn and cotton candy from the concession stands, and Bess would just hoover it on down. Then a whole link of sausages. The way she swallowed a lot of that stuff, the bits of food dribbling down her body...some of the marks were into it."

He pulled his hand away.

"Then I'd come in with a live chicken or pigeon. And she'd bite the head off of it. The old geek act. Suck its blood. Devour it, feathers and all. That got the punters excited, that big of blood dribbling down her lips, feathers flying, her huge naked gut resting on her thighs...and they'd start to bring her other things."

Jason's free hand formed a fist on his thigh.

"Bess...she seemed immune to it. Never spoke. I would help her out sometimes, into the shower. She'd put on weight during the season. Was up to six hundred pounds, but she never needed a cane or a chair to get around, though she hardly left her trailer, or seemed to do anything. Just every part of her had grown bigger, stomach enormous, thighs rubbing together when she walked, her neck seemed to disappear under a roll of fat you couldn't really see because of her long hair."

He sucked his teeth.

"Don't need to tell you that there's another side to the whole sideshow. A way for the performers to make a few extra bucks. Afterhours. Adult-themed. Some of them like to turn tricks, some just like to show a little more skin. The boss doesn't care, as long as the cops are paid off to look the other way, right? Anyway. We get to Dagon's Hollow again. College town, fraternities. These frat boys came in. Decided to test her limits. I was security, there to make sure they didn't try to give her a bottle of antifreeze or dogshit. Started off just by fondling those huge, soft tits. Rubbing her stomach and thighs. Trying to get at her snatch to stick their fingers in. They had all brought food—a lot of food. Rotisserie chickens. Bottles of olive oil. Bags of marshmallows. So they took their time, rubbing her over and giving her food. Watching it all disappear down her gullet, her chins wobbling. I could see where they were going with this—by jerking off into a big salad bowl. All of them. Bess just sat there, wide ass filling her throne. I think she liked the attention."

Jason's lips peeled back. It wasn't a grin, exactly, but his eyes were staring into the darkness beyond the candle flame.

"There was something regal about the way she'd sit, back straight, not slouched. I think she slept on that throne, though I never saw her sleep. The bowl wasn't really brimming when they brought it to her, but I wasn't surprised when she accepted it without a word. Just gulped it down. One more offering. No different than a bowl of gravy or soup or beer. Then the mood changed. One of the assholes brought in a goat."

He bit his lip and nodded to himself, as if he could see the scene.

"For the first time, I remember she stirred on her throne. Leaned forward a bit. Those eyes, normally hidden by that long dark hair, seemed to shine with interest as they led the goat up to her. I could tell the guys were expecting her to balk or something. Hell, maybe they expected her to fuck it, thought I would have stepped in if they tried that. Animal acts are one of the things we don't do. Bess, she leaned forward and reached out her hands. The goat walked right up and put its face in her hands. They stared each other in the eye, and then..."

Jason's mouth opened and closed for a moment.

"Bess opened her mouth. For the first time, I saw her teeth had been filed into points. The goat raised its front legs up to her knees, stretched out its neck, and placed its head in her mouth. Just shoved its head in, the little stubby horns scraping against her teeth until its nose must have been in her throat. Her jaws closed with a snap."

He snapped his fingers loudly for emphasis.

"The headless goat just collapsed into her lap, and blood's pouring over her huge belly. Nobody can move, we're all standing there in shock, and unable to look away. I know hypnotism is bullshit, but I can't explain why I didn't close my eyes as she caught the headless goat-corpse in her hands, and we watched as she brought the thing up to her mouth and just shoved it in. No chewing, no biting, just one long swallow, like a cornsnake with a rat."

Jason wasn't able to repress a shiver.

"She was standing, now. Her gut grotesquely distended. Blood dripped down over her belly and tits. It was the most alive I'd ever seen her, and then the weirdest, most terrible thing happened: she spoke a word, one I'd never heard before and didn't know, and all those frat boys laid down on the ground. They had their dicks out to jerk off into her bowl, and now every single one of those peckers, maybe thirty of them crammed into that tent, instantly stood to attention. Bess waddled down from her thrown, stepped astride the nearest one, and slammed her cunt down."

His right hand was in a fist now, knuckles white.

"Bess was at least six hundred pounds before that little incident. Now she had an entire goat in her gut, and when she slammed down the 20-year-old screamed as his hips cracked like rotten twigs. When she stood up, her thighs were slick with cum, and his cock was a wilted, bruised, broken thing that lay flat and useless on his bruised crotch. She went around the room and did that with all of them. I don't normally throw around the word 'monster,' but there was something terrible in the power she had, to make them stay like that as she took her time, crushing each one of those assholes in turn."

Jason sighed.

"So I called the Boss, we got the ambulances in. No cops—the story was that it was a fraternity hazing prank that had gone horribly wrong—and I had Bess out in the field shower, wiping the blood and cum off, getting in the folds. I had a moomoo for her to wear, and I knew the cleanup in her trailer would be a bitch...and then she looked at me, and for the first time I saw her she smiled...and gave a little bleat, like a goat."

His fingers hovered over the candle flame, as if debating what else there was to tell.

"That was when we implemented the new rule: No Goats for the Fat Lady."

Jason's fingers sizzled as he doused the wick, and set the candle down.