Arkhangelsk
Northern Russian Federation
12:24 noon
If there was any location on God's ( not always green, what with all the deserts that were on it ), Earth that could be guaranteed to have a high chance of attracting a crowd of teenagers on a daily basis, it was a Micky D's.
Where else would they go for stuff that tasted great, didn't cost much, and was ready lickety split than there ?
Or, to be more formal ( though, formality was a forgone conclusion when it came to the Golden Arches )...McDonald's. Arkhangelsk didn't have many of them, but there were enough to always maintain a healthy ( a term to be used very loosely here ) population of hangry teenagers either inside them, or within walking distance. Or both. Actually, to do the situation true justice, it would probably be both.
It certainly applied to the Micky D located on the central street known ( rather elaborately ) as ...Prospekt Sovetskikh Kosmonavtov.
Arkhangelsk wasn't a sprawling metropolis by any means- it was, at most, an 5th of the size of Paris, or Dallas- but it wasn't a village either. With a population that exceeded 890,000, the northern city was still brimming with more than 5 times the life of a backwoods town such as...well, Medic Lake, Washington State.
That was just a village, yes. But, Arkhangelsk was a step up from that. It'd even had the same modest origins...
It was a long way from its origins, though...
A long way.
Because the Micky D's that sat on Prospekt Street was the kind of up-scaled building that would be right at home on a downtown Miami Street- if, that is, Miami was cold most of the year, and temperate the rest, rather than blessed by tropical , non-frostbite-causing places 365 days a year. Without the benefit of sunkissed beaches at the disposals of the locals/visitors, they'd have to make do with the caloric excesses of " convenient food ".
Well, ok...fast. It was fast food. No two ways about it...
But, even so, it was doing its job.
If that job, of course, was to draw in as many kids and hard-up, always-rushing commuters who's swing in there for a breakfast muffin and a sugared up mocha latte, or a quarter pounder with extra large fries and a trenta coca cola cup. None of them were going to stick around, because they couldn't, or at least could afford to go to a actually dedicated sit down restaurant- they were here, out of necessity, and/or pricing.
Well, that and the fries. The food had to actually have some real quality, otherwise the other factors would be worthless. Affordability wasn't enough...there had to be a taste.
Having achieved all of that, Micky D's had pulled off the perfect combo to be successful, and to earn a following of loyal fans who enjoyed it.
Though...maybe some enjoyed it too much...
" Nakonets-to ! Zdhal etogo nesko'ko chasov ( Finally ! Been waiting hours for this ! "
The first of the teenage girls- Yvena-came through the doors the way they all do: grinning enthusiastically, and with a borderline laugh. Biting, frosty air from the January winter that was wrapped around the city swooshed right past her, but it didn't matter- her heavy, bubble gum pink coat shrugged it off.
Besides, the Golden Archer was warm. The temperature here was up, and you could feel it right as soon as you made your entrance. This was no cheaply heated dime-store that still had you shivering even after you arrived- this place was nice and toasty.
A perfect spot to enjoy some ketchup-smothered Quarter-Pounders, and the saltiest, crispiest, fluffiest fries on Earth. Oh...and a drink. And by " drink ", that was a tall cup of Pepsi. With ice.
Always with ice.
And all that, for just 3 Rubles for each of them. Roughly...accounting for tax. Which was impossible to understand, but governments liked it that way. They barely understood them themselves.
But, fiddly prices aside, everything else was why all the girls had brought plenty with them. Between allowances, the usual humble jobs teenagers could get ( mopping floors, cashiers, etc ), or both, they'd all come with enough to get a meal, with a guarantee of a large fries.
After all, without the fries...you might as well just go to Hardees.
And they were all here for those, even if nothing else...
" Ya znayu. Ya prodolzhayu mechtat' ob etom ( I know. I keep daydreaming about it all day ).", agreed Aleanas one of the others. She was slightly taller than the first, with shorter blonde hair done up bob style, and bundled against the cold with a cobalt blue sweater.
" Osobenno Kartofel. ( Especially the fries ) ", she added, making that open palm gesture of emphasis. " Ya mog by s'yest ikh na zavtrak ( I could have them for breakfast ) ! "
The third chick of the group- Tamira, who was another blonde, with a green parka sporting an arctic-style hood- nodded, but didn't say anything. She was more focused on knocking off layers and bunches of snow that'd collected among the groves of her shoe soles, sending them scattering all over the coal black door-rug like a snowfall under the Mickey D's ceiling.
" Ne dumal chto u nas budet stol'ko snega...( Didn't think we'd get this much snow ) ", she huffed. " I ya ostavil svoi sapogi doma ( And I left my boots at home ). "
" Rasslabit'sya. Oni budut v poryadkye yeshche neskol'ko mesyatsev...navernoyne. ( Relax. They'll be fine for another few months...probably ) ", confidently assured the second.
" Krome togo, my zdes' za yedoy a ne obuv'yu. Nu davay zhe ( Besides, we're here for some food, not shoes. Come on ! ) ".
Having reminded everyone of their ultra-important goal that they'd braved the cold of North Russia to get ahold of, she set off at a enthusiastic walk for the counter, beckoning the others to follow.
What else could they do, but go along ?
All 4 of them.
Yes...4. Though, the 4th hadn't actually said a word since they'd gotten here.
On the other hand, she somewhat didn't need to. First off , she was noticeably taller than the other 3- and along with it, most of the other handful of patrons who were scattered around at one table or another, contentedly munching on McWhoppers and sipping on their tall cups of Coke. At a minimum, she was a good 5 ft. 10, which placed her a full head above the short Tamara, who stood just 5 ft. 5.
Long, brunette hair spilled out from under her beanie hat, and her hands were buried under the pockets of the floofy parka she had on. It was longer than the other girls', and definitely puffier...
..but, it was her standout height that pulled sets of eyes onto her. Not everyone all at once,obviously but between the lot of them, there were quite a few. They didn't linger, but then they'd just came back again sooner or later.
But, that was alright.
Because if they had to look at her at all...better it be how tall she was than...
...the other thing.
The one that was just as hidden beneath that jacket as her hands were.
An hour or so later, at home
Well, chalk up another Double Quarter Pounder
How many was that this month, anyway ?
Well, it was a silly question. Mostly because she'd stopped counting years ago. Sometimes, she made a random guess, but knew full well it wasn't anywhere near the actual mark. It was just guessing, after all, and any hope of getting it right had died out long ago.
So, why bother ? She didn't.
It was more fun that way.
And, speaking of fun...
" Ey...slizyavet sol's pal'tsev luchshe, chem sam kartofel ( Hey...is licking the salt off your fingers better than the fries themselves ) ? "
...there were the others going, having their own kind of it.
Very odd...but oh well.
Especially how Yevea's question was posed with the same kind of contemplation and thoughtfulness of a Harvard professor asking students what their thesis paper would be. Complete with looking at her fingertip, still dusted with flecks of salt crystals, like it was something mythical, or profound.
Then again, if you were a Micky D's junkie, it probably was
" Trundo byt'uverennym, ty znayesh...( Hard to be sure either way...) ", she added.
Across the booth from her, Tamira chuckled, and shrugged. She'd found it pretty funny, mostly because it was both silly and sensible all at once.
Mostly silly, but still...not a complete whacked theory.
" Ya by skazal, vam nuzhno i to, i drugoye. Chto takoye sol'bez kartoshki fri...ili naoborot ( I'd say you'd need both. What is salt without fries...or the other way around ) ? ", she responded, plucking another 4 from their red and gold box, then biting down on them halfway down with a delicious sounding crsshh sound.
Thus, proving the point...more or less.
"Eto...dumayte ob etom kak o poslednem shage ( Its...think of it as the final step ) ", opined Aleanes, casually pointing one of the aforementioned fries around. " Za kazhdogo s'yedennogo ( For every one you eat ) . "
Her scientific observation wasn't one the others could disagree with after giving some deep thought...which for adolescents, was about 30 seconds.
So, they all nodded with full agreement, with Tamira taking another full bite out of what was left of her handful. Which only drove the point home even harder.
Not that anyone minded.
Licking off some of that amazing, savory salt, she drank down a few gulps of orange Fanta from her tall cup ( with ice, as it was the law when it came to soft drinks ), then turned to the girl on her right.
" Pirvet, Ilona...kak ty dumayesh (Hey, Ilona. What do you think ) ? "
...
At first, there was no answer. The tall chick had, to be fair though, just filled her mouth with some fries of her own, and chewed with her usual, methodical style. It was the same way she'd put away that Quarter Pounder , though the hefty burger hadn't lasted long against her appetite.
It was something that played out pretty much every time they came here...which was often. She always got the heaviest burger on the menu, a tall drink, and an extra order of fries. And, polished it all off without getting up once. Mostly by sitting still, and tacking each item with dogged, directed focus like a a lioness consuming an antelope on the Serengeti.
All of it just..vanished. Save for the crumbs that clung around her lips or coated the tray before both- both of which she had to keep wiping away regularly to keep them from becoming a real mess. Which would've happened, for sure, given that'd she had chowed down enough food for 2...let alone one.
Having a meal like that was no quick thing, and she wouldn't be rushed. The others knew that, but...even so, sometimes they couldn't help but jump the gun.
Like now.
" Privyet...", pressed Tamira, for a moment.
Another one of those went, spent by Ilona draining the last of her drink. She sealed her lips for a moment, keeping back the carbonation, and then finally answered, smirking:
" Poka oni u menya yest, etogo dostatochno ( As long as I have them, that's good enough ). "
And...the final piece of the puzzle fell to place. Her accent was the strongest out of all of them ( ironic, given where they were ), unmistakably Slavic without a hint of any other language having an effect, and whenever she spoke, it got the attention of even the other Slavs here at the table.
Yvena had once, half jokingly, said she was probably related to the founder of the KGB with an accent like that. It'd been a real riot...till they found out that Ilona actually did have ancestors who'd served with the old espionage organization. Granted, the joke was still funny...but maybe it kind of made them nervous as well.
Spy forefathers or not, though...
...she was digging the Micky D's as much as the rest of them , if the trash that was piled high on her tray was any sign. Wrappers, empty fries boxes, the spent drink cup...all of it.
Or...more than even that...
And much more visibly...
...was how she was easily the heaviest out of all of them.
Always had been. But, visits like this to Micky D's and ordering Quarter Pounders ever time, was a major reason why her belly looked like she's swallowed a sack of flour..or a sandbag. It was a bulging, soft, pudgy one that sagged forward to rest on the uppermost section of her thighs, and with her parka undone, the sweater underneath couldn't hide it.
There was no hiding a simple fact: She was chubby. Plump, you could say. Not obese, however, no, no. Not one of those 500 pound " women " who had come so close to resembling a a gelatinous mass than anything else. For her, it was a simple case of being right on the doorstep of " fat " , and then " overweight ".
Obese came after that.Though, given that she was built wider than the others, with a stocky frame rather than a slim one, the way her gut had hoarded all her weight gain kind of made her look heftier than she might've been...though you could tell from it that she was...well-fed, if you were feeling charitable. And, her friends were, thankfully. They all saw, every day, that she was definitely on the blubbery side, but none thought it was their place to give her a hard time over it.
That, and she was really tall. None of them were as tall as her, let alone as big, so they were kind of more on the side of not annoying her. Not that Ilona had a temper problem- she didn't- but...even so.
Best to leave some things lie.
So, the other looked on with friendly silence while the portly girl rubbed the last of the ketchup off her mouth...
And then declared, " Na samom dele ya khochu yeshche odin ( Actually, I want another ) ".
Aleneas' brown eyes widened. " Drugoy ( Another ) ?! "
Ilona looked at her like she'd asked if the Earth was a disk. " Konechno ! Pochemu by i net ( Sure ! Why not ) ? "
One DQP had hardly been an issue. What harm could another do.
" Vy ved menya znayete ( Don't you know me ? ), she added, as she made to stand up.
Doing so was a tad slower than sitting down, unsurprisingly, but still didn't take long. A second later, she was up, and squeezing out of the booth, with her round belly getting squished a bit against the table on the way out.
Thus free, she headed for the counter again. The taste of the last DQP was still lingering on her taste buds, and they were still firing on all cylinders. They were practically demanding another one...
None of the other girls had anything to say. Well, nothing they knew was worth saying, anyway.
They knew better. Get Ilona around a Mickey D's...
...and the only way out was letting her get what she wanted.
Eating her fill of QPs ? If that was the goal, then fine.
Fine by her, at least...
An hour or so later.
Ilona's house, a block from the McDonald's.
Ok...that might've been a mistake..
Maybe...
Well...as mistakes went...
This one at least would've leave you hungry !
Though...
...there were...other things to deal with.
Weighty things.
That second DQB was more filling than the first. They were called Double Quarter Pounders for a reason, after all, and with 2 down, that was more like a full pound.
Or...it would've been...if she hadn't gone for a third.
Or...a 4th.
2 and a half pounds.
By the time that 4th DQB was gone from existence...it was fair to say she was at her limit.
The way her gut felt as packed and heavy like it was filled with damp sand was proof of that. Those four DQBs and their accompanying fries had taken up all the space down there. It'd taken 4 of them, yes, but the job was done.
...Finally. The 4 hefty burger meals had done the trick, and she was truly full by then.
At least she had the common sense not to order more than 2 more drinks...thankfully.
But, the way extra food had been more than enough. Way more.
Too much more..
After that last DQP, it'd taken Ilona a good few minutes or so to even stand up, as her round stomach had been roiling and churning like a washing machine after all that greasy, high calorie food. Helpfully, her friends had kept from prodding her to leave sooner, and had even been around to help if she needed them.
Walking home hadn't been so hard...more or less. Though Ilona let her gut settle down, it still rumbled fiercely and felt tighter than a drum with every footfall. As the four pairs of shoes crunched though the Arkhangelsk snow, they moved at the pace of their slowest member- the one who'd over-zealously stuffed herself like a Thanksgiving turkey. But, being pretty tight friends, the other 3 kindly didn't run off, and stuck around to walk the Quarter Pounder addict back.
It was, technically, on the way. Hers was the closest to the Micky D's, and theirs were all going that way past it.
But, mostly about the friendship loyalty thing.
Mostly. It was real though.
Along the way, Ilona didn't speak much. That was due to her fighting to keep all the carbonation bubbles from all that soda ( and just the trapped air overall ) from erupting out her mouth. She didn't mind her gal-pals getting an eyeful of her gut, but burping around them was more than she was willing to let happen.
It was just...well, it was just embarrassing, wasn't it. Better not to let it happen.
Thankfully, the walk didn't take long. A few minutes after heading out, they arrived at a rectangular, squat house with sandy-painted walls, and a red roof. A Russian flag flapped and waved from a pole sticking out of the roof's edge, hanging over the porch.
Home at last...
...well, nearly.
They'd still had to say their goodbyes, so they did. Hugs among them followed ( with Ilona's round belly sometimes bumping against the others as they embraced ), promises to meet up again soon, and so on. Finally, however, the other girls continued on their own way, with Tamira making a half-serious comment that the local Golden Arches was only around because one of them loved their QP so much.
Too much, maybe, the one of them responsible thought, as she waved goodbye. The other girls waved back, as they left long trails of footprints behind them through the packed down white snow.
White like salt...
For a moment, Ilona thought of a QP again, and was hungry. Then her filled-up stomach churned fiercely again, and she was reminded that she'd had enough of those for one day.
That didn't say anything about tomorrow, though...or the next. But...they'd have to wait.
For more reasons than one.
" Oorrpp ! "
Well...
...at least nobody was around to hear.
She'd held off the burp for as long as she could, but the multiple DQPs and tall sodas were finally catching up to her. Granted, her pudgy form was proof they already had but...
...technically , it was the latest load of what'd given her that which was to blame.
By reflex, she clapped a hand over her mouth, and blushed. It felt silly, as there was nobody else home. Neither of her parents were her now, and one of them wouldn't be for another few hours- and weeks for the other ! She had the place all to herself.
Which was good, because-
" Oourp...! ",
Yeah. That.
With her stomach still angrily roiling, the plump girl managed to remove her shoes, and double checked the front door was locked. Finding it was, she pulled her parka off, and headed for the second floor stairs, where her bedroom lay.
Having it upstairs, un-shockingly was a bit of a problem during times like these. Carrying all that extra fat up all these steps was always a taxing experience, and with her currently stuffed state, additional hefty burps bubbling up from the depths were unavoidable. Her packed belly was making its displeasure known, and while she could suppress most of them ( like putting a supressor on the end of a rifle ), there was no stopping them outright anymore
" Urrpp...!"
Yeah, yeah...
Sue me. DQPs are great.
Eventually, she made it. Reaching her own door, Ilona opened it ( she nearly reached the top of the frame, so going though was always a tad tense ), entered, and closed it with one foot.
Her hands were busy shedding her clothes. The parka was tossed aside, and then came the sweater. With it also flung away, her pudgy midsection came bouncing free, nearly hiding her toes from view.
Despite the chill of the air on so much bared skin, Ilona kept going. Uncovering her lower half was a bit harder though, with that gut making leaning forward tricky, but soon enough, her winter slacks were off and away as well, leaving her with just her bra and panties.
If there'd been a boy here, he'd have gotten a show. Most of all that fast food weight had collected around Ilona's belly, making it bulge and hang the way it did, but it was beginning to show up elsewhere too. Her eye-catching round breasts were one of them- perhaps the most of them-, as they were the runners up for who was getting the most of all those excess calories. Behind them, her arms were getting some flab, and rolls were beginning o appear on her back when it flexed.
A few more weeks of this, and she'd cross the border from " chubby " to " Total overweight-ness ".
Overweight. Not Chubby. Overweight.
And she knew. She knew she was getting fatter. It was plain as day. Couldn't be clearer...
And...
...And she didn't give it much more thought.
With a shrug, she set about putting some casual things. A pair of loose shorts, baggy T-shirt were all that was needed to feel comfortable ( and that actually fit ), though her gut still pulled the shirt fabric around itself noticeably.
Thus dressed again, she went over to her bed, and flopped back onto it, causing the mattress to sag considerably under the 160+ pounds that'd just been heaped onto it. It was a smart one, sure, but it still had a lot of weight to deal with..
Ignoring that, Ilona rolled to one side ( belly stopping her from going all the way so easily ), and reached over to fish around through the nearby nightstand for her noise-cancelling headphones. The sleek red ones, with the lightning bolts on the sides.
Aha, there it was.
Getting it, she pushed herself up onto her pillows, satisfyingly sank onto them, and synced the headphones to her Galaxy Note 20.
Time for some websurfing.
Oddly, though, the first thing that came up on her recommends was one for...
...the ATLAS Military Contractor Group ? What ?
She blinked, surprised at what seemed to be so random.
Oh...right.
That Mega-corporation based out off the USA. The one with all the fancy gear, soldiers with steel-colored armor and red sunglasses, and hovering tanks. They were really going all out on their advertising and recruiting campaigns recently...
Hm.
Good on you, America. Given how useless the UN is, we could use more guys who can get things done. Like Executive Outcomes out of South Africa. 1980's SADF was the best one..
Well...anyway. I'll check you guys out...but not right now.
Stay awesome, though
She crossed one leg over the other ( both of which were also beginning to show some fat-packing...hints, at least ), and smiled. This was great. She was home alone, with her room looking just the way she left it- blue carpet with white dots, posters of the Crimea Oblast and the Russian Ballet on the tan colored walls, ceiling fan turning lazing overhead, maximum-spec desktop computer still turned faithfully off as it sat on the hardwood desk across from the bed, functioning lava lamp on the other nightstand...
And a drawer on one of those stands jammed with chip bags. And some Oreos. Mainly Oreos.
A girl had to eat, after all.
It was one of those that she went for right now, fumbling around with one hand as the other scrolled around on the phone, pulling up a YT travel video showing Yosemite Park- that massive American preserve that she'd long been fascinated by.
It looked a lot greener than here, that was for sure. Well, aside from winter, that is.
Going there would be a real blast- and having a picnic on those hilly slopes looked like a great way to kick back under a partly cloudy sky- and then drive off to San Francisco , obviously. After a stay among the mountains, a visit to the city was definitely required.
A world-level city like San Francisco would have plenty of dining options, as well. Unlike any of the quaint towns that dotted the region around Yosemite...though, they'd still be worth visiting for a few hours. Get some of that frontier American spirit that they loved so much. Jeans, pine trees, coffee...all of it.
And burgers. Definitely more burgers. Preferably some from McDonalds...because San Fran was a sure shot to find them.
Rmmmbl...grkl..
Apparently, the mere thought of more of them was enough to make her stomach gurgle. Or...maybe it was just good timing. It was still processing the copious amounts of meat, carbs, and salt that it'd been loaded down with...and still felt like it was an actual sack of grain as opposed to only looking like one.
grmbl...
Placing a hand on its soft, pliable surface ( as she often did during moments like these ), Ilona patted it firmly, feeling and enjoying the warmth it was radiating as it churned away, along with the slapping sound of her palm against the heated skin. Her belly didn't hurt so much anymore, but she didn't really have the energy for walking around outside right now.
But, that's what this place was for.
" Orrpp..!"
She didn't bother covering her mouth for that.
It was a good, satisfying feeling, and a good , satisfying way to end a day out. She had the home all to herself, a gut stuffed full of Quarter Pounders ( emphasis on the full; eat one more, and she knew she'd just puke ), some of her favorite videos loaded up for viewing, and the prospect of doing it all again tomorrow.
What did it matter that she was packing on extra pounds every week ? What did it matter that she was this soft, chubby thing who was only getting bigger ? It was fine...not really a problem. It made her feel good, and she could stop this before it got to be serious.
Before it got to be obese, specifically. Not there yet.
It couldn't really hurt to hit McDonalds again tomorrow...
Well...minus the multiple Double Quarter Pounders...and all those drinks.
...Maybe.
After all, again:
A girl had to eat.