FRESA PERDICION BY MATT L. & HER REVENGE

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Hello!

Clear, stringent, unwaveringly sticking to the course and no last minute escape and rescue,, I like it, I like it very much. Not that I would mind a surprising turn at some point as long as it is far from a turn around. As far as I can see you possibly have a few more humiliation scenes in store for poor Yolanda the familiy reunion, meeting up with Marco and Sheila amongst them though the latter may not really qualify. The conclusion is approaching. I wonder how you do it this time around.

Kind Regards!

[Hongo1000]

Can't wait for the next part

[Matt L.]

Thanks everyone for reading and your very kind feedback.
The next episode will be posted shortly.

Cheers, Matt

[Matt L.]

Yolanda was put to work in a manner quite normal to the average peasant but for a young woman born and raised in America it was hard grueling labor.
Yolanda scrubbed floors on her hands an knees, old rags to clean toilets and shower stalls, had to sort out the dirty laundry, hang clothes on a clothes line, washed walls, polish the elevators.

Pilar was a vicious boss, deriding and criticizing Yolanda at every opportunity, forcing unreasonable rules on her; no eye contact what’s so ever with the guests - no speaking to anyone including other employees unless spoken to first - stay out of the courtyard and swimming pool area unless you need to be there.

Pilar would often remind Yolanda, “Mexican-American women have it so easy. If I had my way, I’d send you off to work in the fields!”

Pilar spread the word to the other employees, bonuses would be paid to anyone who made Yolanda feel inferior. This led to Yolanda being regularly taunted and ridiculed.

“Move it, work needs to be done! You’re as big as a pregnant elephant! You’re fat because you want to be fat! I’m surprised they got a uniform to fit you!”



The only people who did show Yolanda some form of kindness were the American tourist, most of them anyway.

“I don’t want to appear rude but I’m rather not have that maid, Yolanda I think is her name, but the large young girl. She makes me feel uncomfortable”, a visiting New York socialite once told the front desk.

Whatever tips Yolanda received was quickly confiscated by Pilar, “Room and board, remember, you get room and board for working here! I swear, I think you’re more stupid than you’re fat!”

Albeit the guests who were civil always spoke down to Yolanda akin to an uneducated peasant.
The condescension burrowed into Yolanda’s head, exaggerating the tinkering Dr. Evans had implemented, her treatment by Pilar and the staff, a bold progress toward establishing Yolanda’s lowly status as natural, from here on the former version of Yolanda was replaced by an overweight woman of questionable intelligence and more at ease with the poorest example of the Mexican culture than her most fantastic desires to fit in with Anglo Americans!

Yolanda ate alone in the shed every evening; despite the harsh treatment Hector made sure she had plenty of food, tasty Mexican cuisine, and everything high in calories.

After a while Yolanda had to surrender, subconscious in agreement, the manner in which she was treated reflected her status, there was no excuse to argue.


__________




Sheila wouldn’t have worn short pants if she knew in advance that Marco was dropping by, she hated how big her thighs had gotten.

“Why not let yourself in”, Sheila said sarcastically as Marco walked in on her while watching TV.

“I just did”, Marco replied, “Don’t be a punk, you’re not tough enough to make it work.”

Sheila gestured with her face toward the spare bedroom where Yolanda had once nested, “I would have brought over your clothes, they’re in there, in two bags…”

Marco stepped in between Sheila and the TV, rubbing his chin, marvelous thrilled at Sheila’s fat thighs, and the depiction of her chubby belly trying to escape the bounds of her T-shirt.

“That’s actually why I’m here but we should talk…”

Sheila used the remote and shut off the TV, pushing herself off the sofa, she advanced toward Marco.

“So talk”, Sheila grumpily stated, then scratching her belly, admitted, “I have something to say too…”

Naturally Sheila’s flabby well-fed figure inspired some teasing, her overall appearance having radically changed since when she was an attorney.

“Have you ever thought about visiting your office downtown where you used to hold court over criminals? You look so Mexican now, your former secretary would ask you to clean windows or something, fetch her lunch. But, um, you’d probably eat it before you got it to her.”

Sheila lowered her face, wagging her head, “Making fun of me doesn’t work anymore, so stop it.”

Marco’s arrogance unbounded, “I think it does, Sheila Marcus getting dumpier, fatter, how can you handle that?”

“Next time I have beers with Sheila, I’ll ask her”, Sheila rifled off, “Oh, I’m Sheila Marcus..” she added with an acerbic sneer.

“Are you happy Marco? Ruining my life, and then lying about being together?”

“Take it easy, you’re going to make this hard on yourself”, Marco grinned.

“Like you give a shit”, Sheila heaved a sigh.

“Hey, I apologize for the other night, I was in a bad mood, I have a lot of stress keeping this neighborhood together. I forgive you, Sasha, I’d like for us to go out, you know, A date, a real date, no bullshit.”

Sheila ferociously swung her head back and forth, finally zeroing her pretty brown eyes on Marco, “You forgive me!”

Marco shrugged his shoulders, “Why the tiff? Hey, I said I was in a bad mood, and like, I understand how sometimes you can forget your place.”

“Thanks a lot, dumb ass”, Sheila buzzed.

Marco laughed, “You have a crazy temper! But it’s cool, just watch it.”

Sheila rolled her eyes, “I’m done with you, Marco. You’re a liar, and don’t respect me. I want you to leave me alone and for good.”

Marco smirked, “Number one, you’re still my property. Two, I do still care for you, I mean, I totally accept you getting fat, you can at least tolerate my mood swings. That’s fair, right?”

Sheila brought both hands over her mouth for a brief second, “I have feelings for you too but you treat me like complete shit.”

“No, Sasha, you got this all wrong. You see, chunky, if you knew your place, you’d know this is the way relationships work in the Spanish community.”

“No they don’t!” Sheila countered Marco’s opinion, which made him laugh, “While a member of my club, it’s how it is.”

“I though I was booted out of the gang?” Sheila questioned.

Marco smiled, “I guess not. But we’ll go out, what you doing tonight, chica?”

“I’m going to hang out with Elena tonight”, Sheila lied, actually she was going to visit Jose, “Tomorrow and for the next four days I’ll be working”, Sheila’ completely honest.

Marco shook his head, widely smiling, “Okay. Sometime soon we’ll go out, dress up, we’ll have a nice dinner, very romantic, like when you were white, slim and rich.”

Sheila rubbed her temple, “We’ll see, depends how you treat me.”

Marco simply pointed at Sheila with a wily grin and then marched into the bedroom to grab his clothes which were in two paper shopping bags.

“Hey, a question!” Marco shouted at Sheila upon walking out of the bedroom.

Sheila edged herself backward onto the sofa, “What?”

Marco’s punk boy grin sharply emerging over his face, “When’s your roommate coming back?”, he played it clueless to Yolanda’s Mexican captive experience.

Sheila snorted, “Soon, I hope.”

Marco charmingly yet teasingly tightened the screws, “She comes back, she’ll be back in college, what happens when she graduates, she won’t be taking you with.”

Sheila stared at Marco, “Why not? It’s her idea.”

Marco cheekily laughed, “Oh, okay! Maybe to clean up after her, right! A highfalutin babe like that won’t have need for you other than that.”

“You wouldn’t understand friendship, Marco”, Sheila snipped.

Marco managed a dramatic sigh, “Oh dreamer, dream on. Yolanda’s a hot babe, she’ll get comfortable in the white peoples world, why would she befriend a wetback?”

“Sometimes I’m just bowled over with shock at myself for ever becoming involved with you”, Sheila huffily groaned.

Marco moved in closer to Sheila, “By the way, some friendship, Jessie says sometimes you talk shit about Yolanda. What about that?”

Sheila sunk down on the sofa, running her fingers over the fluffiness of her tummy bulge, “So, sometimes I get mad coz she left, so what? I love Yolanda, she’s my best friend.”

A quirky grin hopped upon Marco’s face, Sheila’s features contorting, “No! We’re not lesbians. Shit for brains.”

Marco giggled, “Okay, I have to go. You think about going out with me, think hard.”

“Bye, Marco”, Sheila patronizingly waved.

Marco paused for a moment at the door, “You know, Yolanda is such a beautiful young woman, aren’t you the least bit jealous of her?”

Sheila inched herself off the sofa, cradling her belly as she made the short trek to Marco.
“Lots of the girls in the neighborhood are jealous of Yolanda. Sure, I wish I could have her looks and body, but I don’t like, resent her for being beautiful.”

Marco put on the charade a moment longer, “No animosity?“
Marco then flashed an arcane smile, “I guess you’re the bigger woman, right? When she gets back to Los Angeles, I think I know which one of you will look better in a T-shirt and shorts.”

Sheila sighed, “That teasing doesn’t bother me, okay.”

Marco replied with a giggle, then walked out the door.

Sheila stood for a moment, gazing over her belly, “I’m getting fat”, she warbled to herself, the teasing actually getting to her more than she would admit to Marco.



____________________


HOURS LATER __


Sheila’s crankiness over Marco’s visit and his taunting had slowly escalated throughout the evening.

Through it all Jose kept his humor, and cordially listened as Sheila bellyached while they drank beers in Jose’s backyard.

“You got a scale?”

Jose gave Sheila a funky look, “What would I be doing with a scale. I’m a guy.”

“I know I gained weight, I know it, I know!” Sheila complained to Jose, “Why you have to make all those hot dogs for dinner? Huh?”

Jose sipped his beer, “I didn’t force you to eat them”, he amusingly smirked, “You have a natural appetite I’m starting to think. Five hot dogs, I don’t even eat five hot dogs.”

Sheila scowled huffily at Jose, and he coolly replied, “I didn’t mean to insult you. Okay, hot stuff. But, um, listen to me but with your heart, not with your mind.”

Sheila guzzled her bottle of Apache Beer, and reached for another.
She had no reply for Jose, her expression indifferent.
Jose engaged in another sip, subsequently speaking his mind, “Ever think you have a big appetite because that’s how you’re like, supposed to have? Maybe its normal like I said, I mean, you try to diet and it doesn’t work.”

Sheila joined Jose on the bench, wrapping her arm around his waist, a frown distorting her pudgy face, “I hate being the fattest friend, Yolanda and Jessie look like real women, I’m fat, I turned into a bubble-ball.”

“You mean butterball”, Jose said between kissing Sheila, “And you can get new friends.”

Sheila shrugged her shoulders, “I miss Yolanda, can’t wait for her to get back from Mexico.”

“I know that”, Jose acknowledged Sheila by patting her knee.

“I hate say this but the sooner you get away from Marco the better”, Jose wisely advised Sheila, “The asshole makes you feel like crap.”

“I will, its just not so easy, I’m still his property”, Sheila acidly replied.

Jose straightened his posture, his tone becoming harsh, “If it comes down to it, I’ll kick his ass!”

Sheila placed her hand over Jose’s belly, “No, stay away from him, I can’t risk anything happening to you. Marco is a very, very bad man.”

Jose brought his eyes to Sheila’s eyes, weaving his digits through her hair, “I’m just as bad.”

“Oh no, you mustn’t do that, Jose, don’t be a madman”, Sheila shrilled in a panic, “You be arrested, I can’t lose you.”

Jose’s belly shook with his laughter, “What! Are you sure you’re a gang member?”

Sheila wasn’t sure what Jose meant, “Huh? Yeah?”

“You know what happens when gang members go down? Nothing? Some white cop will be on the news, talking about the ongoing investigation, and then it’s forgotten. Nobody cares about us. I thought you’d know that!”

Sheila briefly shut her eyes and sighed, Hector was correct, why she didn’t remember the usual protocol concerning gang on gang crime. She did work in the district attorney’s office.

Sheila stood up, rubbing her face, slowly walking away.
“Why didn’t I remember that?” Sheila pondered, “What’s wrong with me?”

Jose asked if Sheila was okay, making a joke in case he had insulted her, “Hey, hot stuff! I believe you! You’re a bad ass gang member!”

Sheila turned around, “Nothing you can help me with big man. I used to be different; I think I’m changing more than I thought.”

Jose thought Sheila was implying to the changes that were put in play when she became a maid, and stopped hanging out with female gang members.

However, Sheila questioned if her memory, if not her complete mind, was being distorted to better enable herself to be happy or at least content in her adopted culture and working class poor status.

Jose was every bit concerned about Sheila, and he ambled over to her.
“Sasha, you’re a better woman now, you have your head on straight, you changed for the better.”

Sheila slipped her hand over her belly, patting it a couple times with a silly smile, “Oh I’ve changed.”

Jose gently took her by the hand, “Well, whatever I can do to help.”

Sheila cheerily buzzed, “I have a bus to catch tomorrow, working at the Lansing’s, want to watch some TV like an old married couple?”

Jose nodded, and as they strolled back into the house, Sheila giggled, “You wouldn’t happen to have any ice cream?”

__

Nestled together, coincidentally watching a rerun of Law & Order, on the sofa, Sheila laid the tub of chocolate ice cream on top of her belly, relishing the flavor akin to a luxury in which she had been deprived.

Sheila chose not to worry about the discrepancies to her memory, realizing it was pointless.
Supplementary to assimilating into a foreign culture, Sheila’s character / personality had equivalently adjusted. There would be no going back to her former life, etching out any kind of comfort in this one was as good as it gets.


________________


The weeks moving forward found Sheila functioning commendably in a prosaic lifestyle.
Sheila suitably performed her duties as housekeeper / maid, giving 100% to whatever task she was given and without complaint. There was some perks working at the Lansing’s, Sheila did indeed take advantage of the free meals, and in such fervor that her rapidly expanded waistline was in dire need of new uniforms. In addition, Sheila had developed a sound friendship with Michael and they would frequently spend their off hours lounging around the kitchen, chatting while drinking coffee.

In the Spanish slums Sheila usually spent her time with Gonzales sisters, when she wasn’t at Jose’s.
Jose treated Sheila with respect, and she willingly kept his home clean and washed his laundry.


Marco and Jessie remained steadfast interrupting Sheila’s life.
Marco would show up at Sheila’s apartment unannounced, trying to influence her to hang out with him at the club house, Jessie likewise tried convincing Sheila to party with her and her posse, and spoke about the cool guys who would readily want her company.

Sheila did spend some time with Jessie at the bar but whenever there was an opportunity for Sheila to spend time with some dude, she would fake a headache and return home.

Sheila was making a brilliant attempt to leave the gang, preferring the quietness of domestic bliss and being with Jose. All in all, this becoming all the more apparent to Marco, but he wasn’t about to admit defeat, he wanted Sheila destitute and pregnant.


___________________

[Junketh71]

And the interactions between the characters continue to, well, develop. Good update!

[Matt L.]

Hello Junketh71,

Delighted you enjoyed the previous episode, the next episode will be up very soon.

Cheers, Matt

[Matt L.]

7.

~ SIX MONTHS LATER ~


Rico didn’t know what to expect that afternoon he stood at the Los Angeles Bus Station.
Rico had known Yolanda through Marco, and remembered her as the beauteous Latin-American spitfire who had abandoned the gang to make something respectable of herself.

It was a favor to his cousin, Yolanda would be arriving on the bus from El Paso and Marco had shared all the arrangements with Rico including the usage of Marco’s van and various other items.
The most perplexing was that Yolanda would work for a short period of time as a cleaning woman and stripper’s handmaiden at his strip club.

How much could have Yolanda changed? She hated the strip club, and even through Marco’s influence was quite insistent, wouldn’t such an attractive female be better off as a stripper?

Rico got his answer the moment a heavyset if not marginally obese young woman approached him.
“Hector said my driver would be somebody I know..” Yolanda said with a lopsided smile.

“You’re Yolanda?” the words simply fell out of Rico’s mouth.

Yolanda appeared shorter for some strange reason and minus the rigid strength that accompanied her character. And she was fat, very, very, fat.

Yolanda nodded, “Yes…Rico, it’s me.”

Yolanda’s hair had been trimmed into an unflattering pageboy style, the swollen composition of her face barely resembled the fiery tempest Rico once admired, her bloated form clad in typical peasant apparel, a vanilla top with plunging neckline and long black skirt.
Yolanda’s chubby fingers hanging onto a pair of paper shopping bags that contained a few other articles of clothing.

Rico was in shock, Marco never mentioned Yolanda becoming heavy, although understood that she was sent to Mexico as a form of punishment. However, Marco did share a few stipulations which Rico obeyed.

“Marco says for us to communicate in English, at least for today…”

Yolanda’s features became uncomfortable, and after sighing a coarse sniffle, she replied, “Me try, senior Rico.”

There was a flat if not unattractive drone to Yolanda’s voice where once it vibrated a spunky snap, and her eyes lacked the distinguishable exuberant shine, now appeared imperceptive.

Another specification Marco included, “Yolanda isn’t your friend, she’s not one of us. Treat her like a bondservant!”

Rico studied Yolanda for a brief moment, the width of her hips, the buxomness of her breasts, and her whopper of a belly, broken off in two equally large sections.

“Follow me!” Rico waved Yolanda on, turning his back to her as he walked a couple feet ahead of her, “The van’s parked just outside.”

Yolanda wobbled, her gait especially clumsy, “Excuse me, please. No eat since morning in El Paso, humrgy…Yolanda hungry…”

“Yeah, okay”, Rico uttered as if Yolanda was a nuisance, years earlier he would have done anything to please her.

__

Rico waited for Yolanda to climb into the back of the van, boarding himself, he didn’t wait for the rotund young woman to buckle herself up before driving out of the parking lot.

“I’m taking you to the place that Marco arranged for you to live; he said if you earn it, you’ll be able to move back with your family!”

Yolanda’s rubbery features took on a jaded expression, “Si, Hector said so, I remember. I work for you while, me behave, go back, family, right?”

“Under no circumstances are you to contact your family or Sasha until Marco gives you permission. You understand?”

“Yes, me understand, but Rico, me ask, Sasha okay?” Yolanda squeaked.

Rico laughed, “You oughtn’t to worry about Sasha, you’ll see her again, you have your own bullshit to worry about!”

Yolanda did smile upon arriving into the neighborhood she had called home and missed, the Spanish slum didn’t seem so wretched an environment compared to her quarters in Mexico.
At least that’s what Yolanda thought until Rico pulled the van down the route familiar to those particularly downtrodden and neglected even by the working class poor.

A chain of housing projects, mainly the adobe of vagrants and a homeless shelter.
Yolanda recoiled in dread as Rico parked the van in front of the homeless shelter.
“It’s only for a few months, Yolie, adjust to being humble and learn your place in the neighborhood, and you’ll be permitted to return to you mom and fat sisters.”

Rico lit a cigarette, turning to Yolanda, he explained, “Marco got you a room on the third floor, don’t expect the Ritz, it’s a shit hole. You’ll be cleaning up at my strip club for maybe a month, maybe two. I’ll pay you a couple hundred a week. I’m suppose to escort you in, see that you’re settled.”

Yolanda exited the vehicle in slow motion; Rico was already out by the time she managed to grab her shopping bags, her blubbery figure wiggling as she maneuvered over to Rico.

Yolanda gazed over the building; though rather new the establishment reeked of poverty.

Again Rico walked ahead of Yolanda, and again Yolanda whined about her hunger.

“You got any money?” Rico asked in a tone as uncouth as it could get.

“No, sorry, senior Rico, Yolanda flat broke…” Yolanda uttered miserably.

“I’ll give you a twenty-five dollars advance, okay. There’s a taco stand down the street.”

“Thanks you, Senior”, Yolanda passively replied.

The former version of Yolanda would have been disgusted at the shabbiness of her temporary quarters, a small room, none of the niceties routinely expected. However, the flat didn’t seem all that loathsome at first glance due to Yolanda’s experience as a third world native, arguably altering her mentally into a humble mode.

A small table, a couple chairs, a bed, and dresser. The stove and fridge were from the 1980’s.
The tile floor displayed plenty of cracks; a few sections missing altogether, the walls splattered with cheap paint likewise had cracks, and the bathroom horribly ramshackle.

Rico felt uneasy standing in such an unpleasant environment so he was especially brief.

“There’s a bus that will take you to Avers Street, you’ll work at my joint everyday, noon to five or six. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Yolanda shook her head, noticing the tiny bathroom had no shower, she readily inquired, “Where me wash?”

Rico spun around, cracking a slick smile, “In the basement there’s a public shower room.”

__

Yolanda felt like a foreigner in her own country while on route to the taco stand.

Surely her weight and garb encouraged the weird looks she received.

The taco stand was located in what was once the middle of the town square, basically a poorly maintained shack sitting on concrete. A middle age woman was behind the counter, she politely smiled at Yolanda, “Hello, what can I get you?”

Yolanda intuitively returned the grin, and thank goodness she could communicate in Spanish, “Two beef tacos and burritos, and some beans. Please.”

The woman placed the order with the gruff looking cook, an older dude missing several teeth, then quickly resumed her attention with Yolanda.

“I’ve never seen you before, you must be new around here.”

Yolanda nodded, “Yes, I’m new, miss. I’ve just returned from Mexico.”

The woman smiled with her eyes and lips, Yolanda scratched her spongy waist before continuing, “I’m living at the shelter down the block, I don’t have much money, tomorrow I start work.”

“Yeah, I could have guessed, this is about the poorest neighborhood in Los Angeles except maybe some of the black neighborhoods. Makes complete sense you’re here, how long have you been homeless?”

Yolanda couldn’t explain the truth behind the matter, Marco kidnapping her, making her earn the privilege to return to her family, thus and begrudgingly, Yolanda lied.

“I was living with two aunts in Mexico, I come to America to be cleaning girl…”

“I wish you all the best, just stay away from the gangs and you’ll be okay”, the woman replied.

Yolanda sniffled, “Oh, right. Don’t worry, I know better.”

A moment later the food was up; Yolanda paid the woman and thanked her for her kindness.

“You stop by whenever you like…” The woman paused mid-sentence, gesturing with her hand, “…just a minute.”

In a dash, the woman stuffed a few pastries in another bag and handed it over to Yolanda.
“You look so down and out, this is on me. What the hell, I’ll never become a millionaire working here anyway.”

Yolanda gushed, her chubby cheeks turning a pale red hue, “Thank you, mamacita, I appreciate it.”

“You look after yourself, and please stop by again”, the woman sung out.



________




Yolanda wobbled back to her apartment, overwhelmed by the woman’s kindness; it had been a long stretch since anyone was nice to her.

Albeit it was short lived.

A pair of old women were sitting on a bench adjacent to the homeless shelter, old busybodies to be exact. As Yolanda slowly scaled the stairs, she definitely overheard one of the spinsters stating -
“What’s wrong with that girl? She’s too young to be so fat!”

The comment hit hard but not as hard as it could have been. Yolanda realized from her own criticism concerning plus-size females from back in the day when her figure was svelte and unblemished that such remarks would forever be common now that she was a young woman of considerable girth.

__


Yolanda finally reached the top of the stairs, the short three flights would, back in her hay day, have been a breeze, but now carrying an extra one hundred and fifty pounds or so her heart pounded violently and she panted for breath.

Finally she managed to push open the door of the shabby apartment, as she did she was met by the smell of three week old cooking and tobacco, the dimness of the room thankfully hid its real shabbiness. As Yolanda forced open the door which was partially obstructed by a large pile of junk mail she could hear the distinctive sound of rats scurrying away to safety.
The sound made Yolanda shudder, “Ahhh, rats!” she mumbled as she slowly entered the apartment.
After a quick glance around, Yolanda made her way to the solitary window and pulled back the threadbare curtain. The light of the hot summer afternoon did little to improve Yolanda’s opinion of her new domestic situation.
She glanced the room with a disapproving, but resigned gaze.

The scarcely furnished apartment really consisted of one room for cooking, living and sleeping with a smaller room to the rear which was the bathroom.

Yolanda slowly took in her new place. The small cot style bed near to the bathroom reminded Yolanda of the bed she had in Mexico. She hoped she would get a better sleep out of this one than she ever did back there, but somehow she doubted it.

The rest of the apartment was equally uninspiring. A small table with two rickety looking chairs made up the dining area while the kitchen comprised of a small ancient looking cooker which was thick in months old grease. Again Yolanda shuddered at the sight.
A dilapidated yellow two seat sofa completed the disappointing room.
With no TV or no radio Yolanda realized that her entertainment would be limited to listening to her neighbors bickering and fighting on one side and the sounds of a baby crying on the other.

Not having a TV meant Yolanda needed to rely on her memories, and the current circumstances within the changes to her life to entertain herself while she noshed.
Yolanda had been the queen bee, a celebrity in some sense who’s beauty and figure was unchallenged.
She had been making her own way through life since quitting Marco’s gang, worked as a bookkeeper, college would have put her in a better class neighborhood and a real career.
All for not, and her eyes welled up while the thoughts circled in her head. She was no different than any other overweight Mexican wetback, assigned the invisible role among her peers who once looked at her with envy and some degree of respect. A cleaning woman livelihood, poverty guaranteed, her adipose figure canceling favorable contact with males, her flirting skills and charm likewise thwart.

The bizarre and abnormal events that had interrupted her goals and set her up as more than likely a permanent resident of the Spanish slums revved up her appetite, savagely gnawing on the food without remorse or as crazy as it seemed, any hint that she once delicately nibbled meals like a discerning young woman.

The thunderous burp mildly embarrassed Yolanda, thinking it was so inexcusably loud that other tenants may have heard it.

From there Yolanda collected a few garments out from her shopping bags and made tracks to the shower. Despite Yolanda’s principle merit in regard to good hygiene having gone south, she needed the shower, and badly. The long bus ride alone producing a nasty stench.

The basement had showers fixed for specific genders; naturally she took to the female side despite not feeling all that feminine as of late.

The shower room had a few other destitute women in open stalls, all of them slightly older than Yolanda, and chubby, though she was the heaviest of all by over 100-pounds.

Looks were exchanged but nothing overly disgusting toward Yolanda, but as the water failed to completely spray over her body, she felt thoroughly obnoxious in her own mind.

Yolanda had gotten used to the difficulty in drying off her blubbery cocoon, upon getting dressed; a couple females did cordially acknowledge her. The small take between Yolanda and the women was stale, the routine buzz about where are you from, do you work?

Yolanda explained she was from Mexico and was a cleaning woman.

One woman suggested the community outreach center and that Yolanda should see the organization about finding nice work. Yolanda thanked her for the suggestion.

“You ought to learn the language, talk English”, the other woman said, “It will help you to find work.”

“I’m trying”, Yolanda happily snorted.

However, just as before, the kindness Yolanda experience was promptly met with an opposing moment as she walked toward her apartment.

A pair of teenage girls openly gawked at Yolanda as she made tracks down the hall.

Skinny wannabe gang-members as depicted by their attire, squeaked giggles, subsequently filling the air with a few foul-mouthed remarks regarding Yolanda’s built and size.

It would have jabbed Yolanda in her heart had it not she come to the realization somebody had broke into her apartment and took what was left of the cash Rico had given her.

The poor community had a high crime rate, how could Yolanda been so stupid leaving her apartment without her money.

This would never have happened back when she was cozy with Marco, thugs, petty thieves and punks left her alone from fear of reprisal. Yolanda needed to own up to the fact, she was a nobody, another anonymous citizen without any kind of reputation, limited to scraping her way through life without recognition.

Yolanda grabbed some of the junk mail to amuse her time, settling down on a chair that wasn’t wide enough to handle her broad fat caboose; she leafed through something called The Mexico City Gazette. Certain words, and although in Spanish, were hard to pronounce in her head, a few eclipsed her knowledge. Yolanda rubbed her forehead, oblivious to the brainwashing which had shrunk her intelligence.

Yolanda tried making sense of the text again, her reading skills alarmingly deficient.
Yolanda sighed in defeat, “How this happen to me? I was going to college, very smart too, now it’s like I’ve never been in a class room.”


___


It was an arduous night for Yolanda, sleeping nearly impossible. The noisy neighbors were only one factor, Yolanda struggled with hunger pangs, and added to the cot like bed being uncomfortable, it didn’t agree with the immense span of her size.

Yolanda tossed and turned throughout the night, in addition she worried about not having the bus fare to get to Rico’s strip club.

The ten-cent blanket failed to completely cover her body, “I’m naturally immune to fat”, the statement from years earlier, often said with smugness, zipped through her mind.

Grazing her pulpy roll invested waist, Yolanda snorted a remorseful sigh at once being so vain.


____________________


Yolanda slept poorly, up and dressed by sunrise. Without money for the bus or at least a phone to call Rico, Yolanda worried what might happen now that she was unable to make it to the strip club on time.

Furthermore, she was hungry, vastly hungry, her appetite conditioned into a wrought degree of insane proportions.

Yolanda’ wallowed in self-pity, excruciatingly hungry, and fearful of disobeying Rico.

Soon there was a hard knock on the door, Yolanda feeling so weak needed to call out twice, “Yes…Yes!”

“Did you forget about work today?” Rico antagonistically questioned.

“Wait!” Yolanda slowly moved toward the door, “I’ll explain everything…
“Talk English!” Rico answered back.

Rico relived his shock from the previous day as Yolanda opened the door.

Yolanda’s hair thoroughly tousled a pale blue dress which scarcely fit her portly body.
No longer the high maintenance vixen, now a poor scruffy overweight blimp.

“Sorry, Rico, me is very sorry about missing bus, but apartment had thieves, they stole money, no bus fare.”

“You ready to go to work?” Rico bluntly asked.

Yolanda held her hands to her belly and wheezed, “I do what you ask but need to eat, very, very hungry.”

Rico insultingly giggled, “No kidding? Sure, I’ll get you some food.”

“Um, Rico, you once liked me mucho, me truth know, me catch you looking at Yolanda many times, why you mean now?”

“Coz Marco said to treat you like a stranger”, Rico replied, and he callously continued, “Looking at you now makes it very easy; I’m embarrassed to be seen with you. So yes, you are stranger because the Yolanda I knew wasn’t a huge fat bottom dweller.”

Yolanda pouted, “Marco to blame coz my big weight, Yolanda is same..”

“I don’t care”, Rico sarcastically lobbed at Yolanda, “Now move your fat ass, we have things to do.”


Yolanda’s entire body jiggle as the took to the stairs, huffing and puffing, out of breath by the time they reached the ground floor.

“I’m starting to think you’re out of shape”, Rico cruelly snipped at Yolanda.
Yolanda sneered but held her tongue.


Reaching the van, Rico informed Yolanda the door was open, and he hopped in without a hitch.
Yolanda wasn’t all that agile anymore, compounded by the fact she was weak due to hunger, boarding the van was quite complicated for her.

Rico lit a cigarette and amusingly watched Yolanda struggle. She wheezed and groaned, her large duff swinging from side to side, eventually sliding her butt onto the seat and pulling her beefy legs inside.
Yolanda slammed the door, “A gentleman would have given me a hand!”

Rico laughed, “Nobody ever accused me of being a gentleman but tough shit!”

Rico started the van, “Just be happy I’m getting you food but it’s coming out of your pay!”

_________


After a stop at a cheap fast food establishment where Rico again ridiculed Yolanda
- “A girl your size must have a gigantic appetite! - before buying her several items, she was then brought to the strip club, entering through the back door.

Yolanda was given a half hour to nosh while Rico explained her duties.
Basically cleaning the dump and being handmaiden to the strippers.
At one point Yolanda asked Rico about Marco, and he made it plain, “Oh you’ll see Marco sooner or later but you’re an outsider now, you’re nothing to him or anyone else in the neighborhood!”
“You’re a big, fat nobody!” Rico added with a chuckle, “A loser!”

Rico’s comment did give Yolanda some relief; at least she was out of the gang and clearly out of Marco’s life.

Yolanda mopped the floors, cleaned the tables, bars and mirrors, tidied up the bathrooms, vacuumed and finally took out the trash.

Obviously Yolanda felt inferior among the strippers; however, all of them treated her with some respect.

One of the veteran strippers, a blond buxom babe named Mea, remarked to her colleagues after Yolanda brought her a glass of orange juice, “Remember that Yolanda who dated Rico’s cousin?”

Mea looked point blank at Yolanda, “She was something, a real pain in the ass. She looked down at us; she thought she was royalty….”

Another stripper finished Mea’s sentence, “Yeah, she was a hottie but very arrogant. I wonder whatever happened to her?”

“I heard she went to college, and left the gangs, now she’s living with white people!” Mea answered.

Yolanda shrugged her shoulders, pretending to be oblivious to the conversation.

Mea half-smiled, conveying to her co-horts, “wouldn’t it be nice if she got fat!”
Turning to Yolanda, Mea said politely, “Nothing personnel, just this girl was so vain and uppity.”

Yolanda grinned, constructive in agreement without letting on that they were talking about her.
“No, Mea, me no offended. me always big girl, lots of beautiful girls give me attitude, understand what you say.”

Mea affectionately gripped Yolanda’s forearm, “We’re friends here, you’re one of us.”

Yolanda shook her head, despite feeling inadequate around them due to her size and weight, “I could use friends, gracious, Mea.”

The mood and moment interrupted by a different stripper that requested, “Before you’re through for the day, could you please wash the shower?”

Yolanda agreed, “Si, right away.”

Just as Yolanda moved toward her cleaning utensils, Mea sweetly spoke out, “Before you clean the shower, can you get paint my toe nails?”



______________________




That evening Yolanda returned to her apartment with a few groceries, completely drained from her day’s labor. Although it wasn’t the career she had hoped for, at least the strippers were more or less sensitive to her. Unlike Rico, and even the doormen, a couple waitresses as well, who seemed to enjoy bullying and criticizing her.

By nine o’clock and after consuming a large but cheap meal, the exhausted Yolanda went to bed.
At one period in her life Yolanda wouldn’t have retired so early, thus the backbreaking profession that was now her livelihood took the starch out of her vigor, and the earlier to bed the better.
Tomorrow would be more of the same.

_________

[Junketh71]

Yolanda's in a bad place right now, I reckon. But the chapter itself was written quite well!

[Hongo1000]

Nice addition, waiting for more!

[Matt L.]

I appreciate the feedback, thank you. Pleased you're enjoying the story!

Cheers, Matt