Don’t Mess with Jim Bob
By mrs momona © 2017
Jim Bob Cleaver stood before the Judge, blond head bowed, looking at the floor, hoping that he was acting humble enough. His lawyer had told him not to smirk or even smile during his trial for receiving stolen goods, and to try to look and act like the fair-haired football hero that he had been when he was the big man on campus at the local high school. None of it had worked, not even the expensive new “preppy” clothes which his girlfriend had bought for him to wear to the trial. The jury had found him guilty, the judge had revoked his bail, and here he was, squeezed into a bright orange jumpsuit, hands cuffed together in front of him.
Jim Bob’s bright blue eyes remained staring at the floor as the Judge started speaking. “Jim Bob, our whole town has known you all your life. You were the high school football quarterback, homecoming king, and senior class president. You were truly destined for big things when you graduated from high school four years ago. You had the whole world in front of you. Instead of making something for yourself, you chose to drop out of college. Instead of working and supporting yourself, you chose to sponge off your girlfriend…” Jim Bob struggled really hard to avoid smirking at this point. He thought to himself that the Judge might call it sponging, but he would just call it payment for services rendered. In return for keeping his girlfriend happy in bed, she supported him, and actually gave him everything he wanted—new car, fancy clothes, all the pot and beer and good food he wanted, all of it.
The Judge continued, “…you chose to sponge off your girlfriend, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, and formed a criminal ring to earn more money for yourself. Even though you didn’t steal any cars yourself, you hired others to do the dirty work while you took a cut off the top of the selling price of every stolen car which was resold. Because this is your first offense…”
Look serious, look serious, Jim Bob told himself. This is it. He stared at the floor and tried to focus on his bright orange jumpsuit as a way of avoiding showing any hint of the cockiness that had always been the main feature of his personality. Actually, Jim Bob’s view downwards was blocked by the round orange-clad bulge of his big fat belly and the two smaller round bulges in the tightly stretched orange cotton cloth which marked his fat bulging man boobs.
“…I hereby sentence you to one year in the State Prison, followed by five years probation.” The Judge stopped speaking. Jim Bob looked up at him, and said in a voice which he hoped sounded sincere, “Thank you, Your Honor.”
As Jim Bob was led out of the courtroom, he turned and glanced at three people sitting right behind the defense area. His girlfriend Polly was crying, tears running down the cheeks of her flawlessly made up face, auburn hair glistening in the bright courtroom lights. Her expensive silk dress showed off her 44-22-40 figure. She still looked like the high school cheerleader and only child of the wealthiest man in town she had been when she and Jim Bob become an item their sophomore year in high school.
Next to Polly sat Chester, Jim Bob’s first cousin. Tears streamed down Chester’s round cheeks. He and Jim Bob were the same age, had been raised together, and thought of themselves as brothers. Although he now had the build of an offensive guard-gone-to-fat, he had been the receiver on the same football team Jim Bob had quarterbacked. Next to Chester sat Brittany, Chester’s girl friend since high school.
Polly mouthed to Jim Bob “I love you” as the guards led him into the back room.
No one else from Jim Bob’s family was there. He was an only child, and his father, one of the local preachers, and his mother had both passed away from lung cancer within two years after Jim Bob’s graduation from high school—they had always been heavy smokers.
In the Guard Room behind the courtroom, the guard motioned to Jim Bob to take a seat. Jim Bob eased himself down. The orange jumpsuit was so tight that Jim Bob had to sit carefully for fear that a seam would fail. Wouldn’t do for the big shot of the local high school to suffer the embarrassment of bursting out of his clothes, even if it was only a jail uniform.
At that point, another guard came in, carrying a large McDonald’s bag. Jim Bob recognized Billy Jones, one of his high school football team mates who had been a tackle. They had been known each other in high school but hadn’t moved in the same crowd. After high school, Billy had gone into law enforcement and now he was proudly encased in a snug guard’s uniform. Their paths had parted aside from the “wassup’s” they exchanged when they ran into each other around town.
“Hey, man”, said Billy, “thought I’d bring you some lunch. You’ve got a long trip ahead of you this afternoon, big guy.” He patted Jim Bob’s bulging belly as he said this. Like most of their classmates, he couldn’t get over how much Jim Bob had let himself go in the four years since high school graduation. “Thanks, dude,” replied Jim Bob, “breakfast at the jail this morning wasn’t much.” He opened the bag and took out the three double quarter pounders with cheese, supersize fries, 20 piece nuggets, 3 fried apple pies, and large strawberry shake.
“This may be your last good meal for a while, man”, said Billy .” I hear that at State Prison, all the inmates are on tight rations.” He couldn’t help but stare at Jim Bob as he said this. He thought to himself how Jim Bob had changed since their football days when at 5’9”, 160, he was one of the best quarterbacks in the state. Usually a polite guy, Billy was kind of surprised at himself when he heard himself asking Jim Bob, “say man, not to be nosy, but how much weight are you carrying now?”
Jim Bob laughed and drawled, “No problem, dude. When I was arrested , they weighed me in at 292. Think I must have dropped a few on that jail food since then, though.”
Billy thought to himself, 292! No wonder the other guards were talking about how they were having a hard time finding a jumpsuit to fit Jim Bob. Jim Bob’s big round belly and big bulging man boobs, his thick love handles, his enormous protruding round butt, and his thick thighs stretched the thin cloth of the jumpsuit in all directions.
“Wow, friend. You really have picked up some pounds since football.” Billy thought this was a good topic for conversation to distract Jim Bob from his prison sentence. Jim Bob scarfed down his lunch as they waited for the van to take Jim Bob to prison. Jim Bob replied to his old teammate, talking while eagerly chewing mouthfuls of food.
“Well Billy, I guess I’m a sure enough fat boy now”, Jim Bob drawled, “…you know how it goes. After football was finished the weekend beer and pot parties started to put some pounds on me. At first, I thought Polly would mind it when I began to put on a pot belly and my ass started chubbing up, but dude, it’s like the fatter I get the more she likes it. Billy, I mean, she LOVES it.”
The two 22-year-olds exchanged knowing glances, Jim Bob thinking
back to how hot Polly was as she worshipped his expanding body, and
Billy just thinking of how hot Polly always had been.
Jim Bob continued,
“As far as Polly is concerned, dude, all I have to do is lounge around
all day eating and relaxing while her daddy’s money just rolls in. So,
I’ve been livin’ high on the hog! I just need to make sure ‘Little Mr.
Jim Bob’ here is ready for action whenever she wants it.” He laughed as
he reached beneath the watermelon sized bulge of his fat belly and
grabbed his crotch for emphasis.
“Hey man, there’s nothing bad about getting fat. Most of the guys on our team have really porked up since we stopped playing football. I must have put on a good 50 lbs myself ever since I passed the physical to become a guard and could relax a little. And looks like your cousin Chester has been doing some good eating, too.” Billy laughed and patted his own belly.
drawled, “Yeah, ol’ Chester’s put on about a hundred or so. He tells me
his girlfriend always bugs him about his weight, but dude, you should
see him shovel the food in when he comes over for dinner. He’s a big ol`
heifer. The only time he stops eating is when there’s no food left.”
By this time, Jim Bob had finished the McDonald’s lunch and wiped his greasy hands on the bag. “I really appreciate this, Billy,” said Jim Bob, and for once he actually was sincere. “Well, for old times’ sake, dude”, said Billy, who was never not sincere, “just want you to know that whatever happens, we’re still friends.” When Jim Bob heard this, he felt a little guilty for all the times he thought Billy was a hopeless square, certainly not one of the super cool in-group in their high school class.
The van soon arrived and with some effort Jim Bob hoisted his tightly-encased bulk into the back. He was on his way to prison for a year.
Jim Bob handled prison OK. Always a smooth talker and a manipulator, Jim Bob also knew when to take a low profile and keep his mouth shut. The big shock was his first day, at the orientation for new inmates. He was issued his prison uniform, this time a bright red jumpsuit worn over a white T-shirt. When he went to put it on, he found that the legs and rear end were very tight. He could only pull the front zipper up to a couple of inches below his deep bellybutton. The mass of his fat round belly and the wide roll of flab around his waist blocked any effort to hoist the zipper up higher. When he said to the trustee inmate who distributed the uniforms that he needed a bigger size, the inmate laughed and told him not to worry, it would fit “soon enough”.
He next was taken to the infirmary, where another trustee weighed and measured him and the other new inmates while they waited for the doctor to check them out. 5’9” Jim Bob was weighed in at 290 lbs. “Boy, you’re a big one!” exclaimed the trustee, a large black dude named Rasheed who looked like nobody gave him any back talk. “But that fat’s gonna disappear soon.”
Jim Bob was curious. “Why?”
Jim Bob’s question was answered by the doctor, a grim-faced elderly man who was standing in the doorway. “You prisoners are not sent here to get fat, or in your case, fatter, on taxpayer’s money. All our prisoners are on strict portion control. 2050 calories a day, just what is needed to keep a sedentary young man healthy. No seconds ever. It’s a matter of economics. If we let all you prisoners eat whatever you wanted, we’d have to cook three times what we do now, and we’d end up with a lot of fat boys like you, young man. And don’t even think of buying snacks. Those privileges are strictly limited.”
At that point, another inmate went into the physician’s examining room, the door closed, and Rasheed started to talk again. “Yeah, friend, even if you have the money to spend on snacks, they charge $5 for a Hershey bar at the prison store. So, that tight uniform you have on now will be loose on you mighty soon. You won’t believe it, but when I came here five years ago, I weighed 380. Now look at me…I’m lucky if I’m 235. Now, friend, do me a favor and walk over to that table and chair so I can take your blood pressure.”
Jim Bob did as he was asked and Rasheed followed him. Jim
Bob noticed Rasheed checking him out with a look of amazement on his
face. Rasheed then said to Jim Bob, “Man, you are REALLY fat. You got
the biggest ass I’ve ever seen—on a white boy, that is.” Jim Bob smiled,
grabbed a thick roll of his soft bulging love handle, and turned on the charm. “Yeah,
brother, it’s all due to my girlfriend. She likes me big and fat.”
Rasheed was nostalgic as he said,”Yeah, man, that’s how my lady was
too.” He then added, “Well, when you get out of here, there’s gonna be a
lot less of you for her to love.”
Everything turned out to be as the doctor and Rasheed had told Jim Bob. Because of prison overcrowding, meal times were brief. The food was well prepared but there wasn’t much of it—just enough for one serving per inmate—never any seconds. Because of the large number of inmates, chances for a prison job were almost zero. There was a weight room, but inmates had to take their turn—an hour a week max for each inmate. Jim Bob was in a low security area with other non-violent short-timers like himself. All the inmates there kept out of trouble so they could go home as quickly as possible. White, black, latino and Asian, in this part of the prison, they all had only one thought—getting released on schedule. Jim Bob turned on his charm and worked at getting along with everyone and minding his own business. So, Jim Bob spent most of his time watching TV, thinking of Polly, and waiting for visiting day every Sunday..
At first, Polly came every Sunday. She cried, but not enough to mess her makeup. She filled Jim Bob in on the news. She was so lonely without having Jim Bob and “Little Mr. Jim Bob” around. She missed feeling Jim Bob’s weight on her while he pumped her. By the way, Brittany, Chester’s girlfriend, had dumped him and moved to Biloxi. Polly felt sorry for Chester, he was devastated. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. If Polly hadn’t been so hot and so rich, Jim Bob would have gotten bored with her chatter years ago.
Jim Bob noticed over the next few weeks that Polly talked more about Chester. She felt so sorry for Chester since he had been dumped, and a nice guy like him too. At the same time, Jim Bob noticed the look of disappointment on Polly’s face as she noticed how he was losing weight. Rasheed, the big trustee who had talked with Jim Bob that first day, was right. After a month, Jim Bob had lost 20 lbs. on the jail rations and was steadily dropping weight.
It was about this time that Chester began to come to visit Jim Bob with Polly. Only one visitor at a time was allowed, so Polly ended her conversation with Jim Bob early. She left the room and Chester came in. Jim Bob noticed right away that Chester was getting fatter. When Jim Bob said he was sorry to hear that Brittany had dumped him, Chester replied, “That bitch? I’m glad she’s gone. I got me a much better situation now.” He then stopped abruptly and changed the subject to talk sports, leaving Jim Bob with a vague feeling of uneasiness.
The next weekend, only Chester came to visit. As Jim Bob watched Chester walk into the room, he noticed that Chester seemed to have gotten even bigger and flabbier during the previous week. His tight white polo shirt had ridden up on his blubbery belly, revealing a three-inch-wide loaf of soft pink new belly fat ballooning over his pants as Chester walked forward toward Jim Bob, a big smile on his face.
“Where’s Polly?” asked Jim Bob.
“Oh”, said Chester, “it’s her time of the month. She started to get cramps real bad when we were eating breakfast this morning. She said to tell you she’ll come by real soon.”
Eating breakfast this morning? Chester getting fatter? Jim Bob felt a wave of suspicion and anger as he abruptly asked, “Chester, are you fucking Polly?’
Chester turned white, and his jowls and chubby cheeks
started to quiver. “Ah…ah…ah…, come on, Jim Bob. We’ve been like
brothers ever since we were born. Would I do that to you?” Jim Bob’s
anger was intense but still not quite strong enough to cause him to lose
control. Anyway, he was separated from Chester by a Plexiglas
partition. Jim Bob forced himself to stay calm by repeating to himself,
“Don’t do anything to screw up your release date.” Soon, the visit with
Chester was over
The next week, Jim Bob received a letter from Polly. She was sorry, but having him away was harder than she thought. Her needs were too great for an absentee boyfriend who wouldn’t be released for ten more months. Sorry, Jim Bob.
Another letter arrived for Jim Bob about a month later. Billy, his high school teammate who was now the jail guard back in his hometown, wrote out of the blue, saying that he and the guys on their old team felt bad for Jim Bob and the way he was being treated by Polly and Chester. Chester had moved in with Polly and was parading around town bragging about what a good life he had now. The letter closed with “Just want you to know, Jim Bob, that you have some friends back here in your home town and we look forward to getting together with you when you’re released.” That letter made Jim Bob feel a little better, but not much.
For the next ten months, Jim Bob was a model prisoner. His only thought was to get out of prison on his release date and to head home. After getting the letter from Polly, Jim Bob moped around and lost his appetite. He went to meals because he had to but ate only enough to keep himself going until his release. He just didn’t have his old taste for food any longer.
The old pre-prison Jim Bob had grown to love food, the great
feeling being nice and full gave him, and the big round belly and
ballooning fat ass which were the result of all the excess calories. The
new Jim Bob couldn’t care less. The results soon showed. Jim Bob
steadily continued to lose weight. By the time Jim Bob was released, his
jumpsuit had grown baggy on him.
Jim Bob’s release date arrived. He stopped by the infirmary for his release physical. He was measured at 5’9”, 170 lbs. Rasheed congratulated him on his release and added, “friend, I still remember how ya were that huge ass white boy who waddled in here a year ago. See, didn’t I tell ya that ya were going to drop some pounds here? Now you look like most of the other white boys around here—no butt at all on ya.”
Rasheed and Jim Bob both laughed, but
then Jim Bob turned grim. “Say, man, you’d lose your appetite too if
you found out your lady had dumped you and was screwing around with the
guy who had been closer than a brother to you!”
Rasheed replied, “Shit, man, now THAT is disrespect! But, man, get on with your life. The bitch ain’t worth nothin’ now. Find someone else. Don’t ya go getting caught at anything again and have to come back here. Good luck, man.” Jim Bob really was sincere when he shook Rashid’s hand and wished him good luck too. For sure I’m never gonna come back here, Jim Bob thought. As for finding someone else, he’d have to take things as they came along.
Jim Bob stayed with Billy the jail guard and his family for a week until he was able to get a furnished room in the home of an elderly widow lady. Jim Bob got a job at the local Burger King and after a month was appointed night manager. He made an effort to avoid going anywhere that he might run into Polly or his cousin Chester. The pain was still too great, and besides, he didn’t have the money to go to those fancy places now anyway.
A week later on a sunny Saturday afternoon, Jim Bob was with Billy, some of the other members of the old football team, and their families at a picnic at the local lake. The day was filled with fishing, swimming, touch football, card playing, talking, and eating—a most enjoyable country Saturday afternoon.
Bob and Billy were talking when Billy suddenly stopped and pointed over
to the parking lot. “Well, lookee who’s here.” Jim Bob recognized
Polly’s Mecedes SUV and he grew quiet, his eyes narrowing. Polly stepped
out of the driver’s seat, and after a few minutes, a large figure
emerged from the passenger side. The man had his back turned to Jim Bob,
but then as he turned and noticed Jim Bob, he started to approach Jim
Bob and Billy. It was Chester, bare-chested and wearing only a huge
pair of shorts, ready for a cooling dip in the lake.
Polly stood next to the SUV as Chester slowly waddled forward. Each massive thigh rubbing past the other caused Chester’s enormous hanging belly and sagging, basketball-size man boobs to shift and sway from side to side. While Billy and Jim Bob stared at this spectacle, Billy said softly, “Jim Bob, that’s one thing I didn’t tell you when you were at prison. From the day Chester moved in with Polly, he started piling on the pounds. I heard he has to weigh himself at the Feed and Grain Store now.”
Chester finally reached Jim Bob and Billy, and held out his hand, a broad smile dimpling his round face. “Jim Bob, it’s good to see ya. I jes` wanna let ya know that I hope we can be like brothers again. Let’s put everything in the past, man.”
Jim Bob ignored
Chester’s outstretched hand, and Chester barely finished talking before
Jim Bob, eyes narrowed into slits in his anger, bowed his head and
suddenly rushed forward, punching at Chester, trying to knock him off
his feet. 465 lb Chester didn’t move. Jim Bob’s 170 lb body didn’t even
make him take a step backwards when Jim Bob slammed into him. Billy was
able to pull Jim Bob away before his flailing fists caused any damage to
Chester’s fat-padded body.
Chester backed up a few feet and flexed his fat-sheathed biceps, sending ripples on his huge drooping man boobs and the rest of the flab which draped his torso. “Look, small stuff, I gave ya a chance. Don’t challenge me until ya put some meat on that sorry skinny body of yours and we can go at it man to man. That ain’t gonna happen, though, is it, little cousin? Looks the the big deal former fat boy has turned into a twink!.” At this, he turned his back on Jim Bob and Billy and started to waddle back to Polly, still standing by the SUV. His wide sagging ass wobbled and jiggled in the huge pair of shorts which covered Chester’s wide hips and bulky hindquarters. .By the time he reached the SUV, Polly had entered the driver’s side. Jim Bob glared in anger, Billy still holding him back, as Chester maneuvered himself into the passenger’s side. The SUV seemed to sink about a foot and settled under the impact of Chester’s bulk.
“You’ll get yours, Chester, I promise, you’ll get yours.” Billy was surprised at the depth of the anger in Jim Bob’s voice. “Nobody disrespects me like that and gets away with it.”
“C’mon now, buddy”, said Billy at this point. “Remember you’re on probation and one arrest will send you back to prison.”
Jim Bob suddenly put on his charming smile, the smile which had gotten him so many things all his life, and said to Billy, “yeah, you’re right. That fat shit ain’t worth it.” That’s what he said, while in his mind he began to think of a way to get his revenge.
Over the next eighteen months, Jim Bob kept up his new life. The townspeople were pleased to see how he changed after his stay in prison. He seemed more humble, somehow, and definitely harder working. He frequently worked overtime at Burger King and joined the local gym. He didn’t find any special lady in his life, but like many single guys his age, he had no problems picking up someone at a club or a beer joint on the weekends, so “Little Mr. Jim Bob” was reasonably happy. He avoided Polly and Chester at all costs. One sight of Polly’s Mercedes SUV, the only one in town, and Jim Bob headed the other way.
When not working at the Burger King, Jim Bob took his meals at any of the cafes and small restaurants in town which served good “down home style” southern cooking. The waitresses who served Jim Bob soon began to give him bigger portions as he turned on the charm, smiled his perfect smile, and left bigger tips, too, Managing a Burger King meant lots of free food and people began to notice that Jim Bob was rapidly putting on weight again. Only natural, too…it was expected that 24 year old guys like Jim Bob would be putting on some pounds. It was the way things were for all country boys, not just the ex-football jocks. The more the waitresses noticed the roll developing around Jim Bob’s middle and the way the rest of his handsome body was quickly porking up, the bigger his portions became.
Jim Bob’s landlady did her share to aid Jim Bob’s growth. He was so nice to her (he really was, this was the truly sincere side of Jim Bob that showed itself on occasion), doing yard work and fixing things around the rooming house, always stopping to chat and pass the time of day when he saw her sitting by herself. His landlady began to prepare special treats for her handsome young tenant. Jim Bob, on returning from the late shift at Burger King, would see a note on the door of his room in his landlady’s handwriting telling him to check the ice box for a special treat she had made for him. It became a nightly ritual—pans of rich corn pone, mixing bowls full of banana pudding, pecan pies—Jim Bob would take a glass of cold milk or sweet tea, and enjoy his treat even though he had just come from closing the Burger King where he had finished off all the leftovers.
Jim Bob’s lifting at the gym meant that a lot of his new weight was solid muscle, but Jim Bob was also proud when he noticed how his fat pot belly and big fat jutting butt were redeveloping., not to mention how thick his quads, glutes, hips, chest, arms and shoulders were getting.
As Jim Bob rapidly grew bigger, some of his lifting buddies at the gym started kidding him about the “fat-over-muscle look” or “big bellied power lifter look” he was getting, and some of the customers at his Burger King took to joking with Jim Bob about how he was becoming a “walking advertisement” for that great Burger King food.
Jim Bob always laughed, and hoped he
sounded sincere when he always drawled in reply, “yep, just enjoyin’ the
‘good life’, I guess” while he patted his fat round belly. The
waitresses who looked forward to his good-natured kidding with them when
he came in for his meals, and his landlady who now was kept busy
letting out his clothes and repairing split seams and popped buttons so
that Jim Bob could delay spending money on bigger sizes for a little
while, all were happy to see him seeming to enjoy life and eat well.
After all, he had paid his debt to society, right?
Inside, though, Jim Bob was still seething with anger at Chester. But, Jim Bob never let his inner feelings show and turned on the charm whenever and to whomever he needed to.
Jim Bob had the charm turned on full blast the day he showed up at the office of a diet doctor in Nashville. It had been a long drive from his home town. Jim Bob gave the receptionist all the information needed from new patients. He told her he was going to have to pay cash—didn’t have any medical insurance—and signed in as “John Smith”. In a few minutes, he was shown into the doctor’s office. The doctor checked him out—pulse and blood pressure normal—and than asked him to strip down to his boxer shorts and got him on the scale. It read 325 lbs. The doctor took note of the bright red stretchmarks which covered his new patient’s wide love handles, fat belly, and big round man boobs, how “John Smith”’s pot belly and love handles erupted over the top of his boxers, and how the thin white cloth of the boxers was pulled skin tight across his wide hips and enormous round fat butt cheeks, making the fly gap wide open so “Little Mr. Jim Bob” was visible, nestled in curly blond pubic hair.
“John Smith” went back to the seat next to the doctor’s desk, his flab jiggling and quivering as he walked, and started talking. “You see, doctor, I’ve got to do something about my weight. I’ve put on over a hundred twenty-five pounds in the past year and a half and it seems like I just can’t stop eating. My boss has told me that if I don’t start to lose some weight, I’m going to be fired from my job.” “John Smith” just oozed that old Jim Bob sincerity.
The doctor replied, “Well, Mr. Smith, I see what you mean. We have a lot of young male patients who started out in good shape, like you, and just have ballooned up. I can see you have a lot of muscle, but your stretchmarks indicate how much fat you’ve put on recently.”
“John Smith” replied, “Yeah, doctor, I’m hungry all the time. I just can’t stick to a diet. I’m desperate, doctor!.” His voice had just the right note of pleading in it.
“Mr. Smith, let’s try some appetite suppressants for now. I’ll give you a prescription for the newest drug on the market. I’ll call in a prescription for a month’s supply to the pharmacy right downstairs. You should notice a decrease in your appetite right away which should make it easier for you to stick to the diet my receptionist will give you on your way out. Just be careful—these pills are very powerful stimulants. If you notice any signs of your heart racing, or if you feel faint, call me immediately. But, even though you are much too fat for a young man your age and height, you are basically in great shape and should tolerate the medication well.”
As Jim Bob left, he picked up the diet sheet scheduled an appointment for a month away, paid his bill in cash, went downstairs to the pharmacy and paid cash for “John Smith”’s prescription.
Jim Bob had a shit-kickin’ grin on his face as he headed out onto the interstate for the long drive back home from Nashville. He made a stop at a McDonald’s for a nice big lunch, tossing the diet sheet and next-appointment card the diet doctor in Nashville had given him into the trash as he left McDonald’s. On the drive back, he ate the fries and finished off the box of chicken nuggets and half a dozen fried apple pies he had bought as a snack. Still feeling a little hungry, he made a stop at a Stuckey’s and bought a pecan log. Back in his car, he tore into the sweet treat, rubbed his big belly, savored the taste of the pecan log, and smiled as he thought how well the day had gone.
What luck that the diet doctor had actually
prescribed for Jim Bob the very medication he had learned about on the
internet. Boy, Jim Bob, reflected, the old “Jim Bob charm” is still
there! To think that the doctor would actually fall for that crap and
think that Jim Bob would ever want to be a skinny twink! What a jerk the
doctor was! Didn’t he realize that there were plenty of good ol’
country boys like Jim Bob who took pride in their big appetites and the
weight which padded their frames with every extra calorie?
When Jim Bob got home, the prescription bottle with the thirty capsules went into the bottom bureau drawer, under some socks, waiting for Jim Bob to need them.
Two more months went by and Jim Bob continued his daily routine—working, lifting, socializing with his buddies and acquaintances around town, and eating big. He put on another twelve pounds, more fat than muscle, but Jim Bob was pleased.
He was real happy
the day his landlady gave him back the latest pair of pants he had
asked her to let out for him. Giving him the pants, she drawled, “Land
sakes, Jim Bob, I swear you’re fallin’ away to a ton! You’re gonna havta
buy size 52 pants in a little while—I can’t let these out any further.
But ya carry the weight well, son! And I must say it does my heart good
to see the way ya enjoy your food.!” Much to her surprise and pleasure,
Jim Bob, that shit-kickin’ grin on his face, gave her a peck on the
cheek. Jim Bob grinned because he had come to truly care about the kind
old lady, and he also knew that he was at last ready to deal with
Jim Bob kept his ears open around town when he stopped to talk with any of his old friends. While in the past he automatically tuned out whenever Chester’s name came up, now he discretely listened carefully to what was being said about his cousin and now mortal enemy.
Billy the jail guard and Jim Bob’s other buddies did talk about Chester a lot. They couldn’t help but talk about their classmate who was now living a life of ease, supported by Polly’s money. There was speculation about what it was Polly saw in Chester, especially now that he was so enormously fat. One of the guys who worked at the Feed and Grain Store reported that Chester had last weighed in at 587 lbs, quite a change from the 5’10”, 165 lb wide receiver he had been in high school. Jim Bob’s buddies all had put on some weight themselves—shit, it was normal, wasn’t it?—but ol’ Chester had really taken it to an extreme. Stories spread around town about the stupendous appetite Chester had developed, and it seemed like every week there was a new story about how much Chester had eaten—three dozen biscuits with gravy, a dozen helpings of cheese grits. One glance at Chester as he waddled breathlessly from the SUV to whatever food place Polly had driven them to confirmed the stories.
One day, Jim Bob heard that Chester and Polly would often go on a Saturday night to a road house over in the next county where there was good country music and great food. Some Saturdays Chester would go alone if Polly had taken a quick trip to Atlanta or New Orleans for a weekend of shopping. Jim Bob quietly arranged his schedule at work so he always had Saturday nights off.
A month later, on a dark, moonless Saturday evening, Jim Bob was sitting in his car in the road house parking lot, close to where the familiar Mercedes SUV was parked. He was wearing dark clothes. The door to the road house opened and a large shadow emerged and started moving slowly toward the parking lot. This had to be Chester, thought Jim Bob, as he quietly got out of his car and slipped behind the SUV.
As Chester stood next to the driver’s side door, panting from the exertion of waddling out to the SUV, fumbling to reach into the pocket of his skin tight pants for the car keys, he was thinking of the great meal he had just devoured—three double orders of fettuccine Alfredo, a loaf of butter-soaked garlic bread, and five desserts, washed down with an entire bottle of red wine.
He was feeling some discomfort in his chest.
Maybe this was what they call heartburn? Too bad the cashier at the
restaurant didn’t have any antacids or anything when he paid his bill.
Maybe he shouldn’t have had that last piece of apple pie topped with
cheddar cheese and a double scoop of ice cream—but it looked so-o-o
good! He thought how proud and happy Polly would have been to see how
much he was able to eat tonight. She just loved it when Chester pushed
himself to eat huge, and she always showed her love in the bedroom as
soon as they got home.
Still thinking of Polly, Chester was massaging his immense sagging belly and trying to force a belch when a shape rushed at him from out of the darkness and hit him like a ton of bricks. 337 lb Jim Bob hit Chester low, knocking him off balance. The next thing Chester knew, he was flat on his back with a hand clamped tightly over his mouth, feeling a heavy weight sitting on his massive stomach. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he recognized that the weight was Jim Bob.
Chester was gasping for breath and motioned that he wanted to speak. Jim Bob took his hand off Chester’s mouth, but at the same time reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun which he held to Chester’s temple. It was too dark for Chester to realize the gun was only a toy. Chester managed to gasp, “Jim Bob, cousin, what are ya doin’? Remember, we’ve always been closer than brothers.”
Jim Bob replied quietly, “With a brother like you, I don’t need any enemies. Now you’re going to get what you deserve for disrespecting me.”
Still holding the toy gun to Chester’s head, Jim Bob reached into his jacket pocket and took out a plastic bottle of Coca Cola and the pill bottle. Deftly uncapping the cola bottle, Jim Bob opened the pill bottle, poured the capsules into his hand, and put them up to Chester’s mouth. “Okay, ‘brother’, open wide and swallow”. Chester, still breathing heavily and actually gasping for breath—the most exercise he had gotten during the past three years was lifting his food-laden fork to his mouth as often as possible and then lying on his back in bed every night while Polly rode him—swallowed the capsules and then took a gulp of the cola from the bottle Jim Bob shoved up against his fat lips.
Jim Bob’s final words to Chester were, “Now, Chester, into the car and relax. Just sit there for a few minutes and everything will be just fine.” Jim Bob hoped his mock sincerity was believable to the huge man struggling to his feet next to him, still gasping heavily from the combined effects of his heavy meal, the bottle of wine, and the shock at what had just happened.
Chester managed to open the car door and back his bulk into the driver’s seat of the SUV, making the vehicle settle under his tonnage. He sat there, still trying to catch his breath and grasp what had just take place. Was it a dream or what? If only Polly was there! She’d take him to get something to eat and everything would be jes’ fine again! Chester felt his heart racing as he grew drowsy. That was it! Maybe he jes’ needed a little nap! That would make things better! He closed his eyes….
Jim Bob waited a few minutes, checked around the SUV to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind, went back to his car, got inside, and sat there quietly for about ten minutes more. He was happy that his luck was holding. No one had left the road house during the time he had confronted Chester.
Five minutes more passed and Jim Bob started his car and drove out of the parking lot. Not a sound came from the huge man sitting in the SUV.
On his way home, Jim Bob stopped at a Denny’s and ordered a complete fried chicken meal, with a side of a 6-egg ham omelet, a double order of hotcakes, and a double order of cheese grits. After he finished eating, he went to the men’s room and noted with pleasure how the bulk of his big belly, huge round buttocks, and wide meaty hips practically filled the stall. After relieving himself, he took the empty pill bottle from his jacket pocket, and peeled off the label, which got flushed down the toilet. The now-unlabeled pill bottle went into the trash. Jim Bob belched contentedly as he got into his car and headed home. The toy gun soon went back into the toy chest of his landlady’s young great-grandson..
Two days later, Jim Bob scanned the local newspaper and noticed a story at the bottom of page one. “Local Football Hero Found Dead”. He read further, “Chester Cleaver, 26, was found dead early yesterday morning in his SUV parked at the parking lot of a well-known roadhouse on Route 28. Cause of death is suspected to be a massive heart attack. According to waitresses at the roadhouse, Mr. Cleaver had eaten a huge meal there, as was his habit. He seemed in good spirits as he left the establishment about 10 p.m., although he mentioned to the cashier that he had some discomfort in his chest area. The waitresses and cashier reported that he was breathing heavily as he left the roadhouse. Local sports fans will remember Mr. Cleaver as the star wide receiver on our local high school team seven years ago The police report lists Mr. Cleaver’s death as cardiac arrest brought about by his weight, reported to be 587 lbs, and the enormous meal he had just consumed. No autopsy is planned.”
Chester’s funeral was held two weeks later. Jim Bob was there and sure seemed sad. For appearances sake, he even managed to squeeze into his good suit—his landlady had to let out his dress pants as far as possible in the waist and rear so he could shoehorn his big round ass into them while his belly ballooned over the waistband–and he wore a dark tie. At the grave yard, Jim Bob stood with his head bowed as the prayers were being said. He was staring down at the big round bulge his pot belly made in his tight white dress shirt (his suit jacket was so tight he couldn’t button it, leaving the round mass of his fat pot belly proudly on display) and forcing himself not to betray any sign of the broad smile he felt inside. The old Jim Bob phony sincerity was there in full force.
As the prayers continued and Jim Bob stood with his head bowed and eyes closed, he noticed the familiar fragrance of an expensive perfume. Head still bowed, he opened his eyes and noticed an expensive black silk dress on the female figure which had appeared next to him. A gloved hand reached over, and unseen by the other mourners, gave Jim Bob’s big soft fat butt cheek a hard squeeze. Polly!
Jim Bob heard Polly softly whisper, “I don’t know what it was that caused me to dump you, Jim Bob. All I know is that I’ve missed you for a long time, sugar. Why don’t we meet back at my place this evening?”
Jim Bob said nothing. He struggled even harder to control the smile he felt inside as he continued to pretend to pray. His stomach rumbled with hunger while “little Mr. Jim Bob” stiffened to attention. Jim Bob was already thinking of his future…..