FRESA PERDICION BY MATT L. & HER REVENGE

Moderator: Matt L.

Re: FRESA PERDICION BY MATT L. & HER REVENGE

Postby Matt L. » Fri Jun 29, 2018 9:28 pm

Yolanda had remained in bed for majority of the week, overtly tired and somewhat cloudy in the head. The women were pleased though, Yolanda’s disposition was much more tolerant than normal and she was beginning to consume larger meals.
The only time Yolanda seemed upset to the extreme of full blown aggravation was when they supplied her with a few crossword puzzles for her amusement.
The puzzle books were squarely high school reading level but Yolanda had difficulty completing them.

This was the day of the barbecue; Olivia’s mother visited Rosaria and Marta earlier that week and invited them as well. Diligently explaining that it was a comfortable gathering of neighbors as well as Olivia’s friends.

Yolanda tightly clung to the bed sheet she wore after taking her first shower in a week, a much needed shower as she was starting to develop an obnoxious odor.

Rosaria supplied Yolanda with a fresh pair of undergarments, well fresh to her since they were purchased at a flea market that specialized in used apparel.

“Slip into these and then we’ll set your hair, okay?” Rosaria pleasantly smiled.

Yolanda rubbed her nose, an oafish timbre to her once eloquent voice, “Yes, Rosaria. These are nice, thank you.”

The bra was ridiculously cheap and mundane in design while the panties were ugly hip-huggers and ultra matronly in style.

Rosaria delicately swatted Yolanda’s buttock, “That’s a girl! You obey and you’ll get rewarded!”

“I’m getting rewarded enough”, Yolanda cringed in her thoughts as she glimpsed over her strikingly pronounced belly bulge.
“I can‘t handle being like this….” she whimpered to herself once Rosaria left the cell like room.
“All this weight, I‘m not the same woman anymore…” Yolanda struggled with her self-esteem, “I can‘t be.”


Rosaria joined Marta in the kitchen while she was wrapping up homemade sweets for the festivities.
“I so think Yolanda’s wearing the largest undergarment thus far.”
Marta conceded with a smile, “Thus far, you’re right. Soon though she’ll be in the jumbo league.”

“Oh Hector will be pleased and so will Marco”, Rosaria replied, “The mushrooms are doing their trick.”

“Well we got to keep manipulating her so when she‘s carted off to work at the hotel she‘s a docile jelly of a woman. Just yesterday when I gave her those magazines, she stared at the pictures without much of an expression.”

Rosaria convincingly rattled off, “That’s because she’s reflecting on who she used to be, she knows there’s no comparison between her and those models anymore. Just imagine how Yolanda is going to feel around Olivia and some of her friends?”

“And the getup we got Yolanda to wear”, Marta excitedly giggled, “She’ll look more natural to the farmland than most native women.”

“So get the magazine so you can fix her hair appropriately”, Rosaria encouraged Marta, “Tubby be out in a minute.”

Yolanda made her entrance into the kitchen, hobbling in a lackluster stride. She knew not to complain about her prosaic bra and panties set, instead she politely thanked them for buying them for her.

“Quite alright, they look suitable given your figure”, Rosaria calculatingly set out to humiliate Yolanda.
“All those expensive designer stuff isn’t practical anymore, you’ll grow into realizing this, comfort is the ticket for girls like you.”

Marta skipped merrily back into the kitchen once retrieving the magazine from the front room.
“Ready to have your hair done?”

Yolanda pulled out a chair, her big thighs brushing together as she sat down.

Marta walked around Yolanda, elevating her chin, cherishing the excess fat that was providing her a domestic housewife look in aces.

“Now you’re love this new look”, Marta crisply remarked, “I swear no other girl at the barbecue will have this style.”

Yolanda puffed up cheeks and squinted in thought, “It won’t make any difference.”

Rosaria handed Marta a couple combs and then a handful of bobbie-pins, making a short trek to the stove to pour herself a cup of coffee, subsequently taking a seat to observe the spectacle under way.

Marta cupped Yolanda’s forehead, delicately running her fingers up and down her mane, “Your hair is getting a might curly, did you have curly hair before?”

Yolanda felt calm and relaxed as Marta began combing her locks, “Yes, you should have seen me in high school during my big hair days.”

“Used to have an afro, wore a lot of makeup too”, Yolanda continued reflecting on her youth, “I was so rebellious, almost booted out of high school for talking back. I was so tough…” Yolanda’s voice cracking at the conclusion. A tear running down her check.

“We all change after high school, chica”, Rosaria flashed a smile, “I used to be a size 4!”

Marta used the bobbie-pins, sporadically using the comb on Yolanda’s bangs.

The finished results were to Marta’s and Rosaria’s penchant, Yolanda’s black locks now set in an old-fashion bun style.

Yolanda’s eyes grew heavy with stilted lips while she gazed at her reflection in the small hand mirror Marta positioned into her fingers.

The hairstyle more than emphasized the roundness of her face but inexplicably illustrated the facial appearance of any nondescript rural Mexican native.

Yolanda rubbed her cheek as she studied her appearance, who would ever believe she was born and raised in America.

“Very nice, don’t you think?” Marta inquired.

Yolanda closed her eyes briefly, summoning up the guts to capitulate to what the women wanted to hear but likewise yielding to her developing status.

“It’s perfect, I love it”, Yolanda forged a big smile, returning the mirror to Marta’s hand.

“We’ll get you a glass of buttermilk and then you can get dress”, Rosaria told Yolanda.
Yolanda rubbed her belly from side to side, rolling her tongue over her lips, “Oh buttermilk, yummy!”

Naturally Rosaria added some of their serum into the milk, providing Yolanda with the glass within a minute.

Marta went directly to her room to get Yolanda’s outfit while she nourished on the milk.

__

Yolanda remained seated on the chair while inspecting the garments they had specifically bought her for the barbecue. A sheer low-cut top of a subtle burgundy hue with short puffy sleeves and a long light brown skirt which settled just above her ankles.

Pseudo peasant attire, much more of a costume rather then the traditional garb but Yolanda knew they selected the garments to humiliate her.

However, instead of protesting or complaining, Yolanda happily told the women, “This is really nice, nothing like I ever wore in Los Angeles but I’m not in Los Angeles anymore. Right.”

Rosaria and Martha didn’t expect Yolanda to be this agreeable concerning the duds; they had hoped she would have been at least somewhat put off by pedestrian looking garments.

Yolanda’s belly sprang out forward and jiggled as she clumsily stood up.
“I think these clothes will help me embrace my Mexican heritage, in America I was too spoiled with their culture.”

Needlessly to say the women were disappointed by Yolanda’s gusto at the attire and her happy attitude toward her Mexican roots. How would they continue humiliating Yolanda if she was willingly on board with the program?

The women watched as Yolanda anxiously put on the clothes.

The blouse certainly flaunted Yolanda’s buxomness, her jugs as wide as they were stout, and highlighted the pudginess of her waist. The getup predominantly emphasized Yolanda’s belly and posterior, the corpulence seemingly natural as if destiny finally caught up with her.

Yolanda laid her hands over the sides of her belly, turning around so the women could get a shot of her from behind. Yolanda’s butt-cheeks held a mushy appearance, ballooning outward over her fat thighs.

“Well, what do you think?” Yolanda gushed.

“What do we think?” Rosaria questioned, hoping for Yolanda to criticize her figure or the attire, “What do you think?”

Yolanda tilted her head and smiled, “You couldn’t have bought me a better set of clothes.”

Yolanda hugged the women, thanking them again.

The women were in minor shock that Yolanda didn’t complain at all about how the garment made her look especially portly.

Much of the fun in fattening up Yolanda was watching her struggle with the weight and her overblown defiance. Thus they tried to make her feel awkward and uncomfortable about her appearance.

“Well for a girl who supposed to be a poor peasant you’re eating good!” Rosaria pointed at Yolanda, “That’s some big belly you’re touting!”

Marta joined in, “Don’t worry, tubby, the peasant look works for you.”

Yolanda giggled, “I know you’re just teasing me. It’s cool, I don’t mind.”

Yolanda grabbed the empty glass and excitedly buzzed on route to the ice box, “Let me have more buttermilk and then you can weigh me!”

Rosaria and Marta were stupefied, just like when at the carnival Yolanda behaved in a similar manner.

Yolanda guzzled away the glass of milk, her burp echoing through the kitchen.

“Remember what you said at the carnival, I’m too give your friends the impression I’ve always been a fatty”, Yolanda boldly smirked, her rump squished against the ice box, “And I’m going to play it up and good! Just don’t forget you said you’d get me ice cream, chocolate and walnut flavor…”

Yolanda finished her thoughts in a melodramatic mode, “…PPP--L-EE-A-SS-EE! Tubby wants ICE CREAM!”

“I’m afraid the best we can do is vanilla, maybe chocolate”, Rosaira slightly giggled at Yolanda’s antics.

Yolanda put a little extra wiggle in her wobble as she walked over to the women, “Now where’s that scale?”

Marta sighed and walked to the bedroom.

“What’s gotten into you, Yolanda?” Rosaria squinted, “At the carnival and now here. Are you playing around or is this for real?”

Yolanda’s double chin inflated as a vexed expression harden over her sweet face, “I’m confused, really. I cannot possibly be thrilled at how heavy I got but its better for me to pretend I don’t care.”

Yolanda grabbed Rosaria’s blouse, her voice cracking as she sniffled, “I’m not the same girl anymore, I need to allow myself some time to get used to being fat, I was so beautiful, I had a reputation in the neighborhood. People will now treat me like a nobody, a loser, a bottom feeder.”

Yolanda let loose of Rosaria’s blouse, and she spontaneously chuckled, “But as angry as this makes me, I sense I’ll adapt overtime. So do your worse, the heavier I become, the sooner I’ll come to terms with being a pathetic fat woman.”

Rosaria grinned and playfully tapped Yolanda’s belly, “Oh yes, you’ll get fatter. You won’t be able to fit into this outfit by the time you’re cleaning bathrooms at Hector’s hotel.”

Marta walked back into kitchen, “What did I miss?”

Rosaria turned to her sister in law, “Yolanda has agreed to be more cooperative, she’s resigned to getting fat….well, fatter!”

Marta diligently scrutinized Yolanda‘s face then the width of her hips, “You know your change of heart only pushes us into getting you jumbo size.”

Yolanda released an apathetic sigh, “Just put down the scale, please.”

Marta steadily placed the scale on the floor, Yolanda immediately stepping upon it.

Yolanda took a relaxed stance, both hands over her belly while the women checked where the needle rested on the scale.

Rosaria applauded, “Very nice, honey!”
Marta concurred, “Wow, you’re getting heavy!”

Yolanda stepped off the scale, “Just tell me how much I weigh”, she obnoxiously retorted.

Marta elatedly smiled, running her fingertips over the slope of Yolanda’s belly, “209-pounds, can you believe it!”

Yolanda’s belly mildly jiggled, she felt Marta’s fingertips converging with her flab.
The realization of her girth did have a negative impact on Yolanda but the sheer amusement the women enjoyed prompted her to ignore her vulnerable emotions and instead contribute to their gaiety.

“I’m turning into a big ol butterball!” Yolanda giggled, “I’m really starting to get round!”

“This is no fairy-tale, Yolanda!” Marta halted the jollity, sneering at her, “You think this is a game?”

Yolanda recoiled, surprised at the change in their mood.

Rosaria firmly addressed Yolanda, “So you fancy being a heavy damsel, well talk is cheap. At the barbecue make a big slob of yourself, and be not ashamed about it neither!”

Yolanda rolled her hips and excitedly chirped, “Oh you have nothing to worry about! From now on I’m an uncivilized fatty!”

________

On route to the truck Yolanda made the request to use the outhouse for a minute.

“Okay, don’t be too long”, Marta told her.

Once inside the outhouse Yolanda broke down, crying for a solid couple minutes, acknowledging the fact her potential and her advantages gone for good, her reputation in the community forever altered.

____________________


Yolanda managed to cheer up slightly on their way to the barbecue.
The women played traditional Mexican folk music over the radio which Yolanda was really starting to cherish, and even she had to admit, bitterly of course, that she would be able to entertain her appetite on all types of food.

---- Comfort from eating woven deep within Yolanda’s subconscious ----


Yolanda was quite impressed with the festivities.
Olivia’s family rather poor yet really pulled no stops in the range of food and merrymaking.
Neighbors all around contributed something, there was even a four piece band providing music.

Their home was no bigger than a 2 car garage in America but the party extended over their entire property including the barn where the food was prepared in vast proportions.

Olivia looked the stunning vixen in a figure hugging dress, and Ruby’s appearance was quite cute in an attractive top and slacks. Majority of the females that were Yolanda’s age were fat housewives with children in tow, Oliva’s friends were mainly slender or marginally plump.

Yolanda was greeted favorably, being introduced as the girl from America and the women’s cousin.

Yolanda sensed that Olivia and Ruby weren’t exactly overjoyed at her getup, simply saying she looked nice. The guys in attendance were pleasant to a degree but she was an outsider, and a chubby one at that. They would say hello but despite Yolanda’s attempt at making small talk, they soon moved on to whatever prettier girl caught their fancy. After a while Yolanda felt sincerely jaded and resigned herself to a lonely chair while the young people surrounding her pitched woo.
She remembered how the guys used to swoon over her; she had been the belle of the ball with her untarnished beauty and cute figure.

Yolanda handled the rejection by reminding herself that she was now a different woman, it proved futile at this juncture, it hurt being sidestepped for other females who couldn’t compare to her in her prime. The only logically method in dealing with this meant fully accepting the changes to her appearance, her behavior and personality likewise needed to change.
Yolanda ever so ardently conceded to this fact.



Yolanda put her words into action with the food, capturing a few repugnant looks while she messily devoured one plate of food after another. Even Ruby kept her distance away from Yolanda upon observing her crudely gnawing on chicken legs.

While the younger folks, those who were among Olivia’s posse, engaged in some dancing and harmless flirting, Yolanda relinquished her self-respect and greedily consumed most of the chocolate cake which the women brought to the party.

Olivia noticed Yolanda seated alone and slowly advanced over to her.

“You okay? You don’t seem like you’re having fun?” Olivia questioned, then suggested, “Join us; I know somebody will ask you to dance.”

Yolanda stood up and scratched her belly, “Nah, that’s okay. I’m going to see if there’s any more chicken left.”

Olivia glanced at Yolanda as if she was crazy, “But there’s so many nice guys here.”

Before Yolanda could make an excuse, Olivia grabbed her by the arm and tugged her toward the dance area.

There too was an obviously shy young man standing alone.

Olivia made the introductions upon reaching him.

A moderately chubby guy, about 19 years of age, he looked the classic wallflower.

Olvia backed away to join a very handsome dude on the dance floor, hoping the sparks would fly between Yolanda and this would be suitor.

They stood quietly for a few minutes, sporadically looking each other over.
This was the type of guy Yolanda would have failed to acknowledge months ago, now she was hard up for attention. Besides that, she was peculiarly nervous.
“Don’t be a dim-wit, Yolanda”, she castigated herself in her mind, “I use to walk over guys like this all the time.”

Finally she muttered, “Nice party…huh?”
The young man nodded, “Yes.”

Another awkward moment of silence.

Yolanda heaved a long sigh and she began flirting with him - at least it kind of resembled flirting.
For whatever reason Yolanda’s nervousness intensified, everything she said came out backwards.
“Lots of people today here….”
“Having fun on the dancing aren’t there..they?”
Yolanda’s body language was all thumbs as well. She tried directing her lovely breasts into his direction but she somehow managed to thrust out her belly, and she held her hands to her waist in a klutzy mode which made her look especially portly.

The guy nodded, placing his hands in his pockets.

“You know”, he said softly, “You remind me of my sister, she’s big boned too.”

Nice meeting you…” Yolanda uttered, the guy again nodded and walked away before she could.

______

Yolanda retreated to the area where the older women held conference so to speak.
Thinking how much the guy was a loser, and what it meant about her status if she couldn’t snare his attention.

Yolanda sat off to the side, barely noticed, nibbling on chocolate and pastries as the older women casually socialized.

After a while Rosaria volunteered Yolanda to wash dishes and clean up, which she did.
Olivia and her friends were still enjoying the evening as she scrubbed pots and picked up garbage.
Yolanda became all the wiser in terms of her place and class separation.
Attractive females owned the privileges of leisure, chubby women cleaned up after them.



Hours later Rosaria encouraged Yolanda to say goodbye to Olivia and thank her for such a nice evening and having invited her.

Olivia invited Yolanda to join her anytime and advise her not to be so shy.

Ruby was friendly but with reservations, standing at distance when she said goodbye.


_____________________


Yolanda couldn’t wait to get out of her attire as soon as they arrived home.
Tossing the garments into a corner of her room, she proceeded to change into a nightgown before entertaining her appetite on the various leftovers Rosaria and Marta were given to take home.

“Fat girls eat around the clock”, Yolanda starkly mused, more of an excuse to eat since she had developed such an unruly appetite rather then conceding to her new personality.

Yolanda painstakingly removed the bobbie pins, dropping them aimlessly unto the floor, letting her dark thick mane tumbled downward. She gently and for some outlandish reason messed up her locks before wobbling into the kitchen.

Rosaria and Marta were seated at the table conversing about the festivities as Yolanda ambled to the ice box.

Yolanda eventually dropped her luxurious size duff unto a chair, placing a glass of buttermilk with a bowl of leftover chili on the table.

“Olivia’s so pretty”, Yolanda said, her eyes welling up, choking on her words, “I used to be such a prize.”

“No doubt about that”, Marta replied.

Yolanda painfully sighed, gripping her spoon tightly, she began eating the chili.

“The clothes she wears….her figure…. everything about Olivia is perfect”, Yolanda spoke while chewing, her jealousy and torture seeping through her voice.

The women sat expressionless as Yolanda sipped her milk and then continued.
“She’s going to school, she’s making a big deal about it too but I can’t blame her. Olivia’s beauty shouldn’t be wasted here in this horrible farm land.”

“Oh yes, Olivia is special, I agree”, Rosaria smiled, “But so navie.”

“What do you mean?” Yolanda momentarily averting her vision on Rosaria to gobble up the next spoonful of chili, “In Los Angeles, the neighborhood I come from she’d be treated like royalty, she’s all that beautiful.”

Yolanda’s voice darkening, surplus chili flowing over her lips unto her chin, “….I envy her so much…”

Rosaria and Marta chuckled in tandem.

“But…?” Yolanda crinkled her nose at their arcane gaiety.

Rosaria looked over to Marta who signaled with a nod that sharing this piece of news with Yolanda was okay.

“At the barbecue Olivia’s mom told us that Olivia’s been promised to this farmer whose a close friend of her husband. She said they would get a bull out of the arrangement and some property.
So you see, Olivia won’t be going to school or leaving this horrible farm land you called it after all.”

“Really!” Yolanda exclaimed, “Does this sort of thing still go on?”

“Most definitely!” Rosaria chirped.
“Olivia due to wed next year, she doesn’t know it yet. It’s our secret, right?”

Yolanda dropped the spoon into the empty bowl, indifferently gazing at Rosaria.
“What do I care. I’m nothing to brag about, I have no consideration for pretty girls.”

“Well take it from me, Yolie, give Olivia a few years at being a housewife and she’ll be nothing to brag about either”, Rosaria boldly stated. “Those sweet slim hips of hers will spread with every child and that lovely flat tummy will never be the same.”

Yolanda puffed up her cheeks and snorted, “At least she’ll have a man.”

“Seems the young man Olivia’s been promised to likes his women a little curvier than what she got going on”, Marta chimed in, “So her mother has arranged for us to see that it gets done.”

“You’re going to fatten her up like you did to me?” Yolanda wheezed, “You women are crazy despicable.”

“Don’t be silly!” Rosaria giggled, “We won’t get her that fat, just some extra padding, scarcely chubby.”

Marta teasingly smiled at Yolanda, “We don’t want to discourage the poor boy, if Olivia got as heavy as you, he would flee to the hills and the wedding would be off.”

Marta’s taunts no longer ruffled Yolanda’s nerves in the same way, causing her to nod in agreement, “Ain’t that the truth.”

Yolanda really no longer cared; she had a new perspective on matters based squarely on the protocol of her status. Yolanda’s desires had changed as much as her appearance.

Yolanda stood up from the table, making another raid on the fridge, this time it was a Mexican form of cheesecake.

“There’s only two slices left, can I finish it?” Yolanda’s tone somewhat whiny.

Rosaria agreed, Yolanda slowly maneuvered to her room without another word said.


_______



At daybreak Rosaria called out to Marta, anxiously and excitedly, “Take a look at this!”

Marta joined her sister in law in the kitchen to check on what the commotion was all about.

Rosaria stood with the ice box door wide open, “Seems Yolie couldn’t resist a midnight snack. The entire jug of buttermilk is gone and so is the cheese and beans.”

Marta smiled cheerfully, “I think we can lay off the formula a bit. Yolanda’s now a good old fashion over eater!”

“If that’s the case”, Rosaria snickered, “I think she deserves a gallon tub or two of ice cream to show our gratitude. She’ll really start packing on the pounds now!”


____________
Matt L.
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Re: FRESA PERDICION BY MATT L. & HER REVENGE

Postby div » Mon Jul 02, 2018 12:39 am

Hello!

On my first review of the last posting after a nice breakfast in the garden with family around and a pleasant morning sun above I got interrupted about a dozen times by the wife who did not like me sitting around reading when there is more important stuff to do in her view. She was right of course but I still managed to finish though I was left with the feeling that something does not add up as it should or was simply missing. I put it down to the wifes nagging which was not completely wrong.

I did a second review in the night and found the ingredients for weaving a nice fabric all there. So nothing was missing, not really. The unsatisfactory impression though remained. I was not ready to point a finger at it yet.

I think I was looking for a blunt scene that exemplifies the confused state of Yolanda's mind in gratitude to the effects of the mushrooms. Her behavior is odd enough and the scenes to prove it are not rare. That's not it. You did it with a trick and put it right at the beginning, the crossword-puzzle-thing. I read through it once, twice and now a third time without it leaving much of an impression. But that is it and it is there. I just continue to fail paying it proper attention because I would have liked it to be more descriptive and dramatic or comical instead. So it is just the resonance of your writing in the weired workings of my brain that does not add up. That does not qualify for making a good thing bad especially if other people like to differ in their numbers.

Nice work. Keep it going!
div
Transformation Master
 
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Re: FRESA PERDICION BY MATT L. & HER REVENGE

Postby Junketh71 » Mon Jul 02, 2018 4:56 pm

This was a seriously marvelous chapter. Keep it going!
Junketh71
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Re: FRESA PERDICION BY MATT L. & HER REVENGE

Postby Matt L. » Fri Jul 13, 2018 10:13 pm

Hey!,

Thanks for reading and I'm pleased you're finding the story entertaining. The next episode will be posted shortly.

Cheers, Matt
Matt L.
Transformation Grand Master
 
Posts: 1900
Joined: Fri May 25, 2012 3:01 pm

Re: FRESA PERDICION BY MATT L. & HER REVENGE

Postby Matt L. » Fri Jul 13, 2018 10:38 pm

Jose was nursing a beer, speaking over the phone to Hector concerning business, toward the end of the conversation he took the opportunity to ask about Yolanda.

Hector wasn’t pleased, “What does it matter to you, this chick isn’t apart of our club, she’s from Marco’s turf.”

Jose didn’t like lying to his boss but he did so for Sheila‘s benefit, “Well, you know how it is. Not everybody in the slum is affiliated with a gang; I mix with people from all over the hood.”

“What I can tell you is under wraps, Marco wants it to be a secret, get me?” Hector straightforwardly told Jose.

Jose agreed, “Okay…”

“This broad got to smart for Marco’s sense of priorities you might say, so he sent her down to Mexico to be punished, and she’s being punished good!”

Jose asked what Hector meant but the gang-leader was vague, “That makes no difference, it’s for me and Marco to know and Marco is paying a steep price to fuck her up.”

“Yolanda’s family is worried, they haven’t heard from her”, Jose replied.

“You tell them to shut up; worrying isn’t going to help them or Yolanda. Right!”

Jose chuckled to ease the tension, “Right, Hector!”
“But I have to tell them something….” Jose added.

Hector incoherently mumbled before fully answering, “Okay. Tell them all you know is Yolanda’s very busy but she’s returning to Los Angeles when her duties are no longer needed. You say that, and that’s all.”

“Okay, Hector, I’ll say only that”, Jose agreed.


_____




Sheila had arrived at the Lansing Estate earlier that day and had just finished being prepared by Alma, another maid, for a tour of the mansion and to become acquainted with the Lansing family.

Sheila softly gazed at her reflection in the roomy mirror located in the room which would be known as he on-duty quarters.

Sheila experienced a strange oxymoron. She liked the maid’s uniform, a bubble gum pink hue with short sleeves and white trim. The garment first rate and expensive in terms of a servitude apparel.
Somehow it didn’t bother her that the big white apron that hung down to her knees amplified her belly bulge or advertised the puffiness of her upper arms. Sheila thought she looked quite nice.

However, on the other hand Sheila was wrought with discomfort, having earned commendable grades in college and having a lavish career in law but was now making a living cleaning toilets and vacuuming the carpet.

It was then that Elizabeth, the housekeeping staff coordinator, entered the room.

Elizabeth looked every bit the professional in her gray blazer over her turquoise blouse with a matching gray skirt.

“Sasha, you look adorable, if you clean as well as you look in your uniform, you’ll be the consummate maid!” Elizabeth congratulated her.

Sheila had no idea what the word ’consummate’ meant but smiled and uttered a cheerful, “Thank you.”

Elizabeth turned to Alma, a quite overweight Mexican woman within her upper twenties, “I’ll take it from here, later you can show Sasha the laundry room and commit to some washing.”

“Of course”, Alma nodded, “See you later, Sasha”, she said in Spanish.

Sheila waved goodbye, “Thank you for helping me out..”

Sheila’s hair was neatly combed and decorated with a pink bow which manufactured a bouncy ponytail.

“I’ll introduce you to the Lansing’s myself, Alma can show you the lay out this afternoon. Any questions?”

Sheila replied with a closed lip smile and shrugged her shoulders.

__________

While they walked to the study where Mr. Lansing was reading screenplays, Elizabeth divulged that the only family members living in the mansion were Mr. and Mrs. Lansing and their daughter Victoria.
The other two children were off on their own, a pair of sons. The younger boy was in college while the older Lansing son was in Europe supervising the production of their latest film.

Mr. Lansing resembled Vincent Price right down to the manners and beard, his voice having a crisp eloquent timbre.

“I think you’ll find the arrangements here to your liking”, Mr. Lansing said after putting down the manuscript and walking over to Sheila. “The work can become tedious I’m afraid but you’ll be eminently rewarded if you work hard and have a constructive disposition.”

Sheila nodded, “I do my best, I promise, Mr. Lansing.”

Elizabeth stepped in between them, casually informing the gentleman, “Sheila’s work ethic is impeccable, although I think you should be aware her skill in English needs work.”

“Well you don’t have to speak English to clean or that sort of stuff!” Mr. Lansing chuckled.

From there Elizabeth brought Sheila to the fitness room where she met Mrs. Lansing.

A bleached blond who was pretty, marginally plump and pear shaped.

“Now you call me Hazel, none of that aristocrat - serf social order around here”, Mrs. Lansing pleasantly chirped. “Elizabeth has a good eye for talent, I’m sure you’ll apply yourself commendably.”

From there Hazel brought up a few minor things like what type of bath salts she prefers and to try to keep a strict schedule for cleaning certain areas of the mansion.

Finally Elizabeth brought Sheila outdoors to the spacious patio and swimming pool to meet Victoria Lansing, her former friend and work out partner.

Sheila was confident that there was no way possible Victoria would be able to recognize her; she looked every bit the chubby Mexican immigrant girl.

“Victoria, I’d like to present the latest member of our staff”, Elizabeth called out while they slowly maneuvered over to the lounge area.

Sheila had no words to express the trivial changed Victoria.

Maybe it wasn’t a big deal but Victoria had put on about 15-pounds, mainly centered on her belly and thighs. Drinking Slim Fast right out of the can, garbed in a one piece dark blue bikini, her blond hair in curlers. Big sunglasses concealing her eyes.

“I’m bored with these”, Victoria all but whined, handing Elizabeth a few Health / Fitness Magazines, failing to acknowledge Sheila, “Have Alma find me some new magazines.”

Sheila squinted at Victoria, her once flawless skin held blemishes, specifically pimples on her forehead and chin.

“Of course”, Elizabeth replied, “This is Sasha Martinez, she’s just been hired.”

Victoria lowered her sunglasses, drinking in the image of the pudgy Mexican maid.

“She’ll be working the party?”

“Well Sasha’s new, I think we’ll use her in the kitchen until she gets her feet wet”, Elizabeth smiled, “I’m having Alma training her.”

Victoria pivoted slightly on her luxurious lounge chair, her eyes focusing on Sheila’s face, “There’s something oddly familiar about her…” she remarked to Elizabeth, subsequently addressing Sheila, “Have you previously worked for us?
“No, Vicky, me just meeting you”, Sheila nervously droned in broken English.

Victoria latched her eyes on Elizabeth, “Did she just call me Vicky!” she snapped.

Elizabeth swerved toward Sheila, “You have no right to address Ms. Lansing using her proper name unless granted permission, apologize this instant.”

“Very sorry”, Sheila’s expression twisting while she apologized, “Me learn better manners quick.”

“This won’t happen again, I assure you”, Elizabeth informed Victoria.

Victoria stood up, giving Sheila a priceless view of just how flabby and bloated her former friend’s mid-section had become.

The potbelly was certainly larger and drooped downward.

“Let’s see how proficient this wetback really is”, Victoria was needlessly harsh, “Have her tidy up my bedroom, scrub my bathroom and make my bed. Understand, Elizabeth, or would you like to be demoted and take her place as my personal maid?”

Elizabeth nodded, “Sasha will get it done immediately.”

“Follow me, girl!” Elizabeth firmly instructed Sasha.

Elizabeth scolded Sheila as they made tracks inside the mansion and to Victoria’s room.
“Victoria is very temperamental and you are forbidden to speak to her unless she speaks to you first. Remember you’re the help, Victoria is your superior. You traipsed over the boundaries, there’s a status you must obey or else you might end up being sent back to Mexico!”

Sheila sulked, she had never experienced being raked over the coals in such a manner, “Yes, Elizabeth, I understand…” she answered in Spanish.

Sheila was put in her place, just like she had done dozens of times to the housekeepers and maids who once labored for her. Second class citizens who she routinely lectured since they hadn’t the smarts or manners to behave properly. Sheila was now just as insignificant!

_____________

Alma directed and supervised Sheila while she toiled in Victoria’s grand bedroom.
Making the bed, dusting the furniture, vacuuming the carpet as well as scrubbing the private bathroom which was as large as her apartment’s front room.

“Ms. Lansing is a little uptight, and can get cranky”, Alma shook her head, an askew grin over her face.

Sheila listened while cleaning the bathroom sink and mirror.

“If you ask me”, Marta paused to turn around, making sure their conversation remained private, “Ms. Lansing ought stay off the weed if she expects to get her figure back. I think it’s why she has a bad attitude, she lost maybe 30-pounds, the rest won’t budge….”

“Ay caramba…” Sheila sung out, “I didn’t know Vicky got so paunchy, she wasn’t a fatty last time I saw her I think…”

“And when do you call the boss woman by her first name, it’s Ms. Lansing”, Alma lightly reprimanded Sheila, then inquired, “When you see Ms. Lansing when smaller?”

Sheila realized the gaffe concerning being familiar with Victoria at the gym, and duly corrected it, “In the magazine paper, Los Angeles event for some movie, Ms. Lansing had nice figure.”

“Ms. Lansing has girdles, lots of them…” Alma stated.
“If she not wealthy woman, oh she would be very overweight I know for sure”, Alma added, unable to suppress her mellifluous giggle.

Alma provided Sheila with a plastic bucket and toilet brush with a pair of rubber gloves.

“You scrub toilet now, plenty of bleach in water, get it clean.”

Sheila cracked a discouraging eye but despite her displeasure went along with the task, it was her duty.

“I never cleaned the toilet like this at home, why all the fuss.”

“Because you’re being paid to clean it”, Alma exhaustively nitpicked, “You’ll clean it better if you get on your knees, it give you a better angle, now scrub it hard, clean it.”

Sheila did as she was told, hating every minute of it.

Alma stood over Sheila like a warden looking over the convicts in the yard.

“It’s not for me to say but watching you work makes me believe you’re inexperienced, how long have you been a housekeeper?”

Sheila puffed her cheeks, bestowing Alma a crazy gape, “Oh law school kept me away from dirty chores….”

Alma giggled, Sheila peeping a chuckle as well.

“We Latina’s have to stick together, I’ll show you the ropes”, Alma affectionately patting Sheila on the back.

Sheila staggered to her feet, speaking while removing the gloves, “When do we eat? I’m anxious for lunch.”

Alma’s portly belly rolled with laughter, “That’s fine! We deserve a break!”

The sound of Victoria clearing her throat removed the gaiety of the moment.

Victoria turned around, inspecting her room, and Sheila’s work, at a leisurely pace.

All seemed well until Victoria reached her bed and in one quick swoosh, pulled off the blankets and tossed them at Sheila.

“Unsatisfactory! Do it again, make my bed right?”

“What….what’s wrong?” Sheila questioned, “You no like?”

“I don’t have to explain my reasons to you”, Victoria callously stated, “Do it now.”

Sheila walked over to the bed, nervously arranging the blankets, Victoria turned to Alma, “Help her, show her how it’s done.”

Alma respectfully nodded, thus helping Sheila.


The maids stood at opposite sides of the bed. Victoria patronizingly applauding them.
“Well done! Bravo! I knew you could do it.”

“Alma, take the rookie to the ballroom, have her mop the floor and wipe down the tables, bars, that sort of thing.”

Alma agreed, the maids leaving the bedroom post haste without even a thank you from Victoria.

On their way to the ballroom which was twice the size as the standard high school gym, Sheila furiously harped at lightening speed.

Finally Alma was able to get a word in edge wise, “Calm yourself, chica. There’s no point getting upset. Remember we’re displaced people, a dime a dozen. They couldn’t get along without us but ancestry makes us no more than peasants.”


_________

The maids industriously toiling in the ballroom, per chance Michael Castile, their in-house handyman walked in to check the lights.

Michael had a cool look about him, comparable to a movie star. Short wavy blond hair, his body physically fit.

Alma anxiously waved Michael over to introduce him to Sheila.

“Hey Alma, I won’t be in your way, I’ll just be a few minutes…” Michael was the pure definition of politeness.

“Mike, this is the new girl, Sasha.”

They glanced over at each other casually; Mike smiled and reached out to shake Sheila’s hand.
“Very nice meeting you, Sasha.”

Sheila hesitated but gently cupped Mike’s hand and shook it.

Alma turned to Sheila, “Mike is the best, whatever you need, he will help…”
“Sasha will be working the party tonight in the kitchen”, Alma said while swerving her body toward Michael, “You get to know each other.”

Michael positioned his hands over his hips, steering his eyes into Sheila’s, “I’d like that, the boss doesn’t mind the help mingling during fancy events, I guess it sets a nice mood or something.”

Sheila couldn’t deny an attraction toward Michael but seemingly appeared indifferent, “No very good talk English so me know not.”

“In any case”, Michael cordially put it out there, “We’re employed here together, we should get acquainted.”

With that Michael saluted the maids and then went about his business.

Sheila grabbed her mop, returning to her chore, Alma interrupting her.

“You no like, Mike? You get to know him; he’s nice and so good looking.”

Sheila cracked a disapproving eye, “So what, American men like skinny women, I prefer my own race, I like Mexican men.”

Alma wagged her head, “You loco? You get to know him before judging him. Being racist like that does more harm than good.”

“It’s the gringos who are racist”, Sheila mumbled as she went back to work.

Sheila’s mind zeroed in on Marco and Jose, they might have been criminals scrapping by to make an income but they were her breed, and she completely understood she belonged in their world, adopting their culture, forswearing the white upper class world where she exhibited such derogatory thoughts and behavior toward the working class poor, especially Mexicans.

At one point Yolanda entered her head and it made her blood boil that she had willingly abandoned her heritage to achieve a lofty status among the whites.

“Maybe Yolanda will get reacquainted with her culture in Mexico…” the thought traipsed through Sheila’s head. “….bad for her if being around white tourist make her more snotty, I’ll have harsh words for her….”

______________

The servants dining room where the maids eventually had lunch was impressive, ever more impressive was that the help had a personal chief who prepared whatever dish they wanted.

Sheila got to know Alma and the senior maid became somewhat familiar with Sheila.

Alma came from a long line of maids, was married, her husband worked as a bus driver, and had one child. Sheila was surprised on how upbeat Alma was about being a maid, and that she didn’t have an unkind word about anyone. Exception being Victoria but even then she was discreet with her opinion.
Sheila spoke very little about herself, keeping up the lie concerning her history.



Sheila took advantage of the free meal and consumed a lunch which consisted of a double cheeseburger, onion rings, cheese sticks, and two slices of pie.

A short break was compulsory before setting up the event, tending to Victoria’s needs.

Sheila held back her giggled as she watched Alma helping Victoria into her girdle and tightly lacing it up.

Elizabeth walked in on the scene, dressed extraordinarily swanky, her figure poured into a charming black gown.

However, she was working the event as well, coordinating the shenanigans so to speak.

“Alma, once you’re finish tending to Ms. Lansing set the tables with Miranda, and Sasha, see Gretchen in the kitchen, she’ll tell you what to do.”

The maids agreed, Sheila amused once again, though hiding her pleasure, when Victoria asked Elizabeth, “Does this dress make me look fat?”


___________


The food having been catered, Sheila was assigned clean up duty - clearing off the tables once dinner was over - washing dishes, checking the bathrooms every half-hour.

Sheila’s mood was spotty, exuberant at times when she was allowed to nibble on the leftovers, and at other times surly as when Elizabeth was shouting orders at her.

“Watch your posture! You’re not working in a soup kitchen! Stop speaking Spanish in front of the guest! That’s rude! Hurry up with the fresh towels for the bathroom!”

Sheila executed her responsibilities commendably, although she hated it.


_______________



Sheila took a much needed break and fanned her face out doors. She could hear the romantic music from where she stood on the smaller patio just outside the gigantic kitchen doors.

Gazing upward at the moon she wondered about Jose, where he was, what he was doing, Marco never entering her mind.

On cue Michael appeared walking up the cobblestone patch on route to the mansion.
Their eyes converged, Michael paused to say hello.
“Nice evening isn’t it?”

“Little too hot”, Sheila responded as if speaking was an arduous task.

Michael sensed the hostility, questioning her quite diplomatically.

“You’re tense about something, what’s wrong?”

Sheila edged her back against the building, looking straight ahead, focusing on the landscape instead of Michael.

“You don’t know me”, Sheila coldly uttered.
Michael took the imitative and stepped in front of Sheila.
“You’re right, I don’t know you”, Michael smiled, “But I’m only being friendly, we work here together, we ought to get along.”

Sheila studiously looked Michael up and down, then settled her eyes on his face.
Michael was a stud; even she couldn’t deny his physical attractiveness, and his face bewilderingly charming.

At first Sheila tilted her head, denoting her quasi-submissive temperament, and smiled but a fierce combative spark reversed her mood.

“I need to go back to work; you have pretty American women inside at party…”

Sheila began to turn around, Michael softly yet firmly reminding her, “I’m not a guest, I’m an employee, same as you.”

Sheila continued on her way indoors.


______________________



Cleaning up after the party was a job in itself, Sheila hadn’t worked so hard.

Elizabeth wasn’t around to supervise, and Victoria, drinking herself into a stupor, had retired to her room the very moment the party concluded.

Eventually toward the final portion of their selected assignments, the maids began to chatter among themselves. Frivolous banter about who showed up, the endless parade of society snobs in their finest gowns, and who was the biggest letch of them all.

Sheila wasn’t privy to much of the event having been mainly fixed in the kitchen most of the evening but she enjoyed listening to her co-workers idly gossiping like old fishwives.

The effect of the camaraderie did more than rouse Sheila’s mood, among the ’help’ as they were called, but provided her with a true sense of being. Being - poor, a maid, Mexican, and chubby.
Sheila was apart of their clique, their culture, their ancestry.

________



“I saw Mike tonight”, Sheila shared the incident with Alma as they walked to the servant quarters.

Alma nodded, “I did too, he wanted to know why you’re so unfriendly.”

“I have lovers, why do I need some white boy”, Sheila coarsely uttered.

They paused in front of Sheila’s room, Alma grinned, “Mike’s a decent young man, I know he wasn’t putting the moves on you. If anything he‘s very respectful.”

Sheila folded her arms over her breasts, an insolent glare radiating from her eyes.

Alma chuckled, “Get that stick out of your ass!”

Sheila leaned backward, standing with her back against the wall, Alma placing a hand over her shoulder.

“We’re all working here together, we should all get along”, Alma said warmly, “I know, I know there’s many white people who look down on us but be better than them. Don’t be racist toward Mike or anyone else, racism is an ugly thing.”


Sheila gently embraced Alma, wanting to confess that she used to be white and treated Mexicans and the working class poor with disdain.

“I know its wrong, Alma”, Sheila quietly uttered, “I learned it the hard way….”

________________
Matt L.
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Re: FRESA PERDICION BY MATT L. & HER REVENGE

Postby Junketh71 » Sat Jul 14, 2018 4:56 pm

This was seriously touching. Thank you for the new chapter.
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Re: FRESA PERDICION BY MATT L. & HER REVENGE

Postby div » Sat Jul 14, 2018 10:22 pm

Hello!

In 'Apt Profession' there was no Mr. Lansing so the full house maid program could not be realised. I am just wondering.

Kind regards!
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Re: FRESA PERDICION BY MATT L. & HER REVENGE

Postby Matt L. » Sat Jul 14, 2018 11:52 pm

Hello Junketh71 & Div,

Thanks for reading and we appreciate the feedback.

Div, if you check Chapter 2 of this story, we introduce Victoria Lansing who is the daughter of Mr. Lansing.

Cheers, Matt
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Re: FRESA PERDICION BY MATT L. & HER REVENGE

Postby div » Sun Jul 15, 2018 12:46 am

Sorry for being vague.

I was rather thinking of Mr. Lansing as a means to further Sheila's degradation with him taking advantage of the simple minded mexcian house maid in one indecent way or other.

Kind Regard!
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Re: FRESA PERDICION BY MATT L. & HER REVENGE

Postby Mars » Sun Jul 15, 2018 2:22 am

I've been enjoying all the twists and turns of this one so far Matt & HR, thanks for keeping it going.
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