The Nurse: An Interview of Extremes - Part 1

“Just look at those poor little feet,” Nurse Isabella remarked, gesturing at the wriggling extremities of the enormous test subject that lay before us, “Just look at them; soft, plump, steadily being swallowed up, a little more each day. They're like relics - a reminder of a bygone era - of a time when she could stand, she could walk away. Now long gone, well and truly lost to greed.”

Nurse Isabella continued her tour around Testing Suite 219, and its vast centrepiece of a subject, Bethany, of whom she was extremely proud.

“Bethany joined us about twenty-four months ago,” Isabella enthused, “and was actually part way through the consultancy process to have a gastric band fitted. Can you believe that? What a waste that would have been. Bethany was the kind of girl who had always struggled with her weight, even as a child. By her late teens she had ballooned up to over 350 pounds, and, well, that’s when The Department scouted her. She was actually on the heavy side for a fresh trial, but all the preliminary tests we conducted pointed to her being something very special. Naturally, Bethany was apprehensive at first, but she agreed to a twelve week probation and well, just look at her now; almost two and a half tons of supple, quivering fat, but with the potential for much, much more!”

It was unclear if Bethany could hear Isabella’s bold claims. The huge spread of her body, combined with the warm, pulsing hum of the feeding pump and the steady bustle of ancillary staff attending to the gigantic girl meant that it was quite unlikely - or maybe Bethany had just given up caring. From what I could make out, she seemed almost completely preoccupied with the continuous task of being pumped full of the thick, fattening mixture.

As we continued our stroll, other nurses and members of staff greeted Isabella, or busied themselves in their duties. Some observed, some washed, some lotioned and some tidied. A petite, slight chested nurse with a long, blonde, tight plait passed by and handed Isabella a clipboard; it was briefly checked and signed with a well-practised flick of the wrist, before being handed back. It was clear that Isabella’s seniority as Head Nurse meant that she commanded the respect of her department, or rather, departments - as her position meant that she presided over several subjects, in several Testing Suites. It seemed obvious, to myself at least, that Bethany was one of her favourites, despite the fact that the Head Nurse was probably not supposed to show preference.

“It’s just the potential, you know?” She continued, gesturing once more to Bethany’s huge, growing bulk, her eyes widened and glistening, “Seeing how much more we can stuff and pump into that beautiful body, it’s fascinating. She has the very real prospect of becoming the departments - and the world’s - biggest and heaviest woman! It makes me quite… flustered thinking about it, to be honest, but we do have to be careful. Besides, that lofty goal is still a long way away, however, I have high hopes that Bethany can put Testing Suite 219 and my little department on the map - at least, on The Facilities map. Tea?”

I gave a gentle farewell wave to Bethany as we left the room, but she seemed completely oblivious. Instead, Isabella led us down a rabbit warren of wide, unremarkable corridors and a variety of polite but functional elevators, all the while she pointed to the doors of secretive, numbered rooms and regaled brief and fastly spoken stories. I struggled to keep up.

“Suite 353,” she motioned, still trotting quickly, “Abigail, I think? She is becoming a real whopper! Very impressive, although, I often go on break with her head nurse, Mina, and from what I’ve seen, I don’t think she’ll be able to get her too much heavier. Mina disagrees of course…”

“Suite 480. New-ish girl in there I think. Putting up quite the fight, so I’ve heard. They often do when their mobility starts to diminish, you know? Some folk just accept it, but plenty don’t, and I get that. It’s a hard transition to make, but they just need to learn to lay back and relax…”

As we turned yet another corner, we hurriedly approached a pair of slim nurses, one taller and one shorter, both escorting and supporting a girl who was so huge she could barely walk. The light, translucent medical gown did little to cover the swaying, heaving bulk of her over-fattened figure, as it sloshed and jostled with each small, lumbering step. A large, straining pair of pale briefs did its best to contain the full swell of lower belly that stretched well below her knees. The subject's face was heavily flushed, and she didn’t even acknowledge our presence as she greedily gulped for air. The two assisting nurses greeted Isabella with a cheerful, familiar smile.

“Moving day?” Isabella chirupped.

“Sure is.” the taller of the two nurses answered, “Should have been last week, but we were waiting for 202. Special clearance.”

“202? That is a big suite. I’ll be sure to keep checking in…”

As we continued on, another nurse followed close behind, pushing a large, well laden trolley of trunks and flight cases. She was perhaps the smallest of the three staff members escorting the barely-mobile girl, and the burdensome platform seemed ill-suited to her abilities.

“She’s new - a junior, if you will.” Isabella informed me, aware of my gaze, “It’s what you do when you start here. It’s to prove your mettle, your ability to get stuck in and get stuff done. It’s a hard place to work, with long shifts. It’s a tough interview process too, if you have to go through it, so very few staff simply walk away during their initial training period. Of course, there are plenty of ways you can end up working here…”

The characterless corridors of the Testing Departments left us behind, only to be replaced with the slightly more slender, but still purposeful corridors of the accommodation block - or one of them, anyway. I struggled to get my head around the enormity of this place throughout my entire visit, it felt almost endless. Fluorescent lighting led us with a helpful, guiding hum through further walkways, common areas and foyers, until finally, we reached the door to an unassuming, identikit apartment door that found itself stuck unceremoniously on a bland, magnolia wall, save for a small intercom system. The small plaque on the door read; ‘Apt. 8029 - Head Nurse Isabella F. Beauchamp.’

Swiping her keycard with a sprightly jingle of keys, Isabella pushed the door open and invited me in with a warm smile, holding the door so that the overly aggressive fire-safety mechanism didn’t swing it shut.

“We really need to get that one adjusted.” She apologised.

The apartment was sufficiently spacious for one person, and its efficient layout made good use of the space. The main living area contained a small, but well appointed kitchen with island, a lounge area with two comfortable looking sofas, and a round dining table with four smart, contemporary looking chairs. With the natural light that came from the two, large floor-to-ceiling windows on the far side of the room, I was able to get a better, calmer look at Nurse Isabella. Removing her block heeled shoes in the doorway, her natural height seemed to be somewhere around the five-feet five-inch mark, and her light blue nurses smock confirmed her slightly plump, curvy figure, with most of the weight being focused on her hips, bottom and thighs, as well as a soft tummy that left a trace indentation of her navel within the fabric of her uniform, when the light caught it. Her upper body was a little more slight, with slender arms and a modest bust that offered some authority, and put just the tiniest amount of stress on the foremost fastening.

The apartment also contained a comfortably sized double bedroom, with storage, and just off of that, a well appointed and reasonably modern bathroom that gave a satisfying mix of bleach and female fragrance. “Tea?” Isabella questioned once again, the tour of the apartment now largely over.

Offered a seat at the round dining table, I was glad to give my legs a rest. Isabella sat opposite me, her hair fastened into a large, full brunette bun. She reached for the intercom, “Maisey? Tea. Tea for two. Please.”

The please felt hastily added, perhaps only for my benefit. In all truth though, I understood that there was a hierarchy here, like any other government institution.

“How did I end up here? Well, it’s not a path that I intended to take, I can safely say that, yet it is a path that I now find it hard to imagine not taking. It’s a world that I’m glad, even proud to be a part of. I must admit that I never thought of myself as a feeder, or an encourager - heck, I didn’t really know that was a thing - however, I can’t deny that it is my nature.

I guess it started way back in high school: We had a new girl join our year, and well, she was quite big for her age, weight wise I mean. She got picked on and teased, as you can imagine. Not being one of the popular kids and having had my fair share of bullying over the years, I decided to try and make friends with her. If I’m honest, I was kind of fascinated by her, in a way - I know why now. She turned out to be really pleasant, and we got on well, with both me and my other friends.”

Isabella paused, her large, walnut brown eyes flickered as they dived into her memories. She gave a self conscious smile and continued, “Anyway, at break times or lunch, I would often give her some of my snacks, or buy something extra at the canteen and then pretend I was full and let her have it instead. And, well, she would eat it. I’d watch out of the corner of my eye, but she would most times just eat whatever I gave her. I started to deliberately take extra snacks to school. I was fixated by the possibility that each treat she ate would, in some way, make this already big girl grow bigger, and bigger and… you get the idea. She hated being big, and incredibly self-conscious about her weight, yet, she would happily keep eating. That process sparked something in me, you know? I don’t think it was deliberate, in fact, in hindsight, it felt very organic - very natural between us.

She did get bigger, and then her parents sent her to fat camp where she dropped about forty-five pounds. That felt almost like heartbreak at the time, I think. Needless to say, she put it all back on again, with interest, in the following year, but then she moved schools again and we lost touch…”

The tail end of the story was abruptly pierced by the sound of a tight knock at the door, and then a buzz of the intercom.

“Come”, Nurse Isabella ordered toward the speaker grille.

Continued in… The Nurse: An Interview of Extremes - Part 2