Just released from a Department of Public Health Summer Camp, a young Tom Load makes his way home to his family. Despite being over 40 lbs lighter than at the start of the summer his journey is long and arduous. At one point he even has to take a public bus. He arrives home topless and sweating in the late August sun. His sagging chest and abdomen displaying his guilt and shame. He is famished and exhausted after the long trek and the horrors of his internment. The swinging of the old creaky garden gate alerts his parents to his presence and the plump Ma and Pa Load come out to greet him.

“Pa, Pa! Look, our Tom has returned!”

“I see Ma! I see him! But, look at the state of him! My Tom, what have they done to you?”

Tom explains that the camp was more like a prison and that he was forced to toil everyday in the swimming pool, track, and gym. “Oh Lordy!” Ma Load shouts. Upon hearing the news of the scant three square meals a day she almost faints. “Come,” Pa says, “We have just enough for supper.”

Led into the kitchen by his loving parents, Tom notices that the house is full of boxes, everything is packed. He asks what is going on and Pa explains to him that he has returned just in time as tomorrow they will leave for Indiana. Life has gotten too hard here. Thanks to government policy it has become too difficult to support and feed the family. Where once there was a WallMart, Wendy’s, and KFC, now there is just a Whole Foods. The Ice Cream Parlour is long gone as are most of the other ‘fatties’. The Governor’s Public Health push has forced them all out. Only last week the local ‘health enforcer’ came around and stole all of their chocolate and replaced it with fresh veg. No one could be expected to live like this. Fat neighbour had turned on fat neighbour. Where once there was trust and community and nightly neighbourhood barbecues there was now only distrust and suspicion. Once fat friends, ravaged by hunger and desire, would break into each other's houses hunting for hidden food stashes. There was nothing else to be done. They had to leave, just like everyone else had done.

“Do you have a hidden food stash?” Tom asks in hope.

“Yes dear, I have scurried away enough for this evening. A hundred burger patties, buns, and barbecue sauce,” Ma says.

“There’s not even any cheese, Tom!” Pa exclaims, “There’s not even any cheese!”

“We will have to go in the morning,” Ma says, “Or I fear we will all start to look like you.”

Ma points at Tom’s low hanging skin dangling loosely over his belt. “It’s not my fault, Ma,” he says. She hugs him and tells him that she understands. That she is just glad that he is home and that they are together again. “Call your brother in, he’s playing out back,” she tells him. Their final dinner at home is ready. His kindly parents allow Tom the biggest portion and he consumes 46 burger patties and feels his tummy fill a little for the first time in months.

The next morning Tom is awoken by his brother, Little Timmy Load. The boy is bright and bouncy and as fat as a house. Full of beans from his breakfast and excitement to see his brother again, the boy farts and scratches at his basketball sized stomach as he beseeches Tom to get up. The car is loaded. It’s time to go.

“Sorry, you missed breakfast,” Ma says, “But you were fast asleep and I didn’t want to disturb you. Anyway, your brother ate it all.” Little Timmy burps with pride and pats his swollen belly. “Sorry not sorry,” he says.

“That’s alright,” Tom says looking disconsolate. “Don’t worry Tom, we will stop at the first place and get a real slap up brunch,” Pa says.

They hit the road at 10.15am. The highway is packed with other cars towing U-Haul trailers. Thousands of fat families are making the same journey. All hoping to make it to the land of milk and honey where they can continue to gorge and grow. The Load family sit in silence as they slowly make their way through the congested traffic. “Reminds me of my arteries,” Pa jokes.

After two hours they pull off to find a diner. The sound of Tom’s breakfastless belly, too hard to bear. The car park is heaving as is the diner. The Loads get lucky as a table has just come free due to the sudden death of a 700 lb seventy year old lady who left her insulin behind. They thank the waitress and take their seats as her body is dumped out back. There is no excavator available to bury her. 

They study their menus before ordering six of everything. “Look at the queue now Pa,” Tom says. The line is out of the door and across the car park. Horns blare as cars block the road waiting to enter. The waitress brings the first round of starters and the Loads start to eat.

Tom has not eaten a feast like this since before he was taken away and he wastes no time in getting back to work. He needs to regain his shape. As he guzzles down sliders he looks around the rammed diner. Every adult guest is at least 300 lbs. He feels small like a child. Hell, even Timmy may weigh nearly as much as him now. He doubles his efforts and snatches a chicken and bacon sub from his little brother’s plate. “Hey!” Timmy yells. “That’ll learn ya for eating my breakfast,” Tom says. Ma and Pa say nothing. They are pleased to have both of their hungry boys back.

Tom loads up on spaghetti, steaks, and casserole, followed by biscotti, ice cream, and fudge. For the first time in what feels like forever he feels his belly strain against his t-shirt. He wonders if there is a scale in the bathroom. He tells Pa he needs to pee. He is in luck, the diner has one of those huge old scales that only costs a quarter. The machine looks to be as old as the great depression. He inserts a coin and steps up. 278 lbs. He smiles. He has already regained 7 lbs since leaving camp. It will do for now. He places a hand on his lower belly and cups a ball of fat. It feels firmer than before, but the skin is still loose. Maybe Pa will shout him one more ice cream sundae? He leaves the bathroom to discover a raucous.

Fat people are splayed everywhere. Obese men and women grapple with each other, trying to wrestle food from each other’s hands. Food flies across the restaurant and splats on the floor. A dozen fat kids pile on top of each other in a frantic attempt to hoover it up. “Pa!,” Tom shouts, “Pa! What’s happening?”

“We gotta go now Tom. They’ve ran out of food!”

Tom knows that the place will be trashed. If he stays he is bound to be caught. He pushes through the jarring crowds and grabs his brother who is still trying to eat half a cheesecake. “Oi!” Timmy yells, as the cheesecake smashes to the floor. Tears well up in his chubby little eyes as Tom grunts loudly whilst straining to pick the little porker up. Timmy must be close to 250 lbs but Tom manages to lift him in his arms and hold him tight, belly against belly. They all push for the door.

Outside there is a riot. A hundred starving patrons, famished from their hour or two on the road, lash out in furious anger, smashing car windows and thumping each other. One catches Pa with a right hook, giving him a black eye. As they reach their car they hear sirens approaching. “We gotta go now Ma,” Tom says. Ma is desperately trying to get Timmy into the back seat. He doesn’t want to leave. He cries that he still has some cheesecake left. “Why?” Ma asks. “We didn’t do nothin’. You not in trouble are you Tom?”

Tom doesn’t respond. He is distracted by an angry skinny man approaching them. “You fucking pokies!” He says, “You’re always causing trouble! Well you ain’t welcome here with your overconsumption! I’m sick to death with all you fat fucks thinking that you can go where you want. Go back to where you came from! There ain’t enough food in the whole world to feed you all. You think you’ve got the right to eat till you burst, well you ain’t!” The angry stick man was upon Tom now. He pokes him aggressively in his newly filled stomach. “Fucking pokies,” he continues. “I’m sick to death of all of you. Look what you’ve done, ruined another good restaurant!” He pokes Tom once more in the stomach, his skinny finger sinking deep into the layers of young fat. Tom can't stand it any more. He lamps the man with a forceful short left hook and leaves him sprawling on the tarmac. “We gotta go now!” Tom yells as the first police car comes into sight. The Load family force themselves into the car and set off back towards the highway.

“What did that public health nut mean Pa? When he called me a pokie, what did he mean?”

“It’s a new name for us, son. A derogatory term for people like us. He poked you in the belly right?”

“Yeah,”

“So you’re a pokie. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s all his kind think of us now.”

“That’s dehumanising,” Tom says. “That’s a long word for a fat boy,” Ma says, more interested in why Tom was so scared of the police. She asks him if he’s in trouble. He admits that the camp has not yet ended. He ran away, escaped. He couldn’t take the diet and exercise anymore. It was inhumane. “Oh Tom,” Ma says. She understands and does not blame him. But now they all know that they have to keep him hidden. If he is discovered he will be returned to the public health department for a longer sentence. God knows how thin they would make him?! Ma and Pa reassure him that they will do all they can to protect him. The Loads stick together and eat together. “If Tom goes away again will I get more food?” Timmy asks. “No,” his parents lie.

After a long day on the road with only another three food stops the Load family pull into a Motel 6. It is the fifth motel they have tried and they will have to share a room, but it will do. Tom and Timmy thump down onto their bed causing it to creak loudly. Pa phones for pizza when there is a knock on the door. It is another lost Surplus, around Tom’s age. He explains that he is alone. Cast out by an non-understanding family who had bought into the government’s lies. He explains that he saw them enter the motel and knew immediately that they were a loving family. “Please may I spend the night with you? I have nowhere else to go,” he pleads. Ma agrees immediately. The lost boy is right, these are good fat people, the heart and stomach of America. Ma thinks that he is polite and kindly looking. He reminds her of Tom. “Come in,” she says, “Pa is just ordering pizza.”

The lone 340 lb boy says that he is called Preacher. He explains that it is a nickname given to him because he used to go around preaching about the benefits of gaining to others. He doesn’t do it any longer though, he can’t be bothered. He’d rather just eat himself. The Loads don’t pry to ask him his real name. He plops himself down on the bed next to Tom and Timmy causing a couple of springs to break. All three boys snigger. “We may break some more of those before the end of the night if we’re lucky,” he says, elbowing Tom gently in his portly side.

The Loads and Preacher chat for a couple of hours while they munch down the pizzas, wings, and cola. Tom, still feeling shame for his deflated size explains that he has just come back from one of the camps. Preacher is surprised; he’s seen many friends taken away but Tom is the first one that he’s heard of coming back. Pa goes on about the wickedness at the heart of the Health Department and laments the wave of public health restrictions that now plague their once great land. Preacher listens carefully before explaining that it isn’t the President and that guy in the Health Department who are directly to blame; they are just lackeys. The real villains are the ‘woke’ corporations pulling the strings behind the scenes. Big broccoli is the real puppet master. According to Preacher the fruit and veg industry has lost billions since gaining has become mainstream. It is they who are trying to take back control of the government and what better way to do it than by shaming all the fatties? By forcing them to eat healthily; to buy their disgusting products! It's all about profit. Pa Load agrees with him fully.

Now full of ten greasy pizzas and a hundred wings, and bloated on sixty ounces of coke, Tom’s belly has finally regained its barrel shape. Propped up by a single pillow he stares down at it jutting out proudly in front of him. Preacher sees his new friend’s pride and gives the top of the barrel a friendly pat. “Feeling better?” he asks. “Much,” Tom says with a smile and a wink just before they turn the lights out.

Timmy is woken up by the sound of creaking springs. He stretches his pudgy arms and legs and is surprised to find the space to do so. Where once the three large boys were squished together in a standard queen, there is now room. With effort he rolls himself over his own bloated ball belly in order to face the other way. As he does so he feels his soft left thigh lie on top of a warm wet sticky patch. Just old enough to understand he prays that it isn’t his brother’s. He lifts his fat padded hands to his ears and pushes down tight. He clenches his underbelly so as to purposefully force out fart after fart in a poor attempt to disguise the slapping and groaning noises coming from Tom and Preacher. When he finally accepts that it is no use, he shamefully takes care of himself.

After emptying both motel vending machines the Loads are back on the road by eleven. Their new passenger squeezed onto the back seat, the car is now dangerously overloaded. Timmy is moaning constantly about having to sit in the middle. There is a small ridge in the rear bench that digs into his oversized ass causing him to constantly arch his back pushing his basketball shaped stomach even further forward. Tom and Preacher tease him before appeasing him by feeding him chocolate bars in an succesful effort to keep him quiet.

They drive for about an hour when a police car approaches behind them. “Oh shit!” Ma says, seeing it first in the passenger side mirror. “It’s ok Ma,” Pa says, “We ain’t done nothin’ wrong.” Tom is starting to sweat. Preacher looks at him knowingly. Blue lights start to flash. “We’re riding too low. I’m sorry,” Preacher says. “It’s not your fault,” Ma reassures him. Pa pulls over and grips the steering wheel tightly while staring in the driver side mirror waiting to see who emerges.

“It’s ok!” He says with relief. “It’s a pig not a cop!” The 400 lb pig is bursting out of his uniform. Slabs of flab hang off him from every angle. “Tom, give us some of those chocolate bars quick,” Ma says. Tom obliges. Timmy scowls.

“Hello friend,” Pa greets the pig.

“Why hello,” he responds, “You seem like a nice family.” The pig is impressed with the overall size of the Loads.

“We are!” Ma says, foisting the chocolate bars towards him.

“Why thank you Mam,” the pig says, taking them without hesitation.

“Where are you guys headed?” he asks.

“Indiana,” Pa says.

“Ain’t nothing but trouble ahead on that road. You and the rest of the Surplus are just driving into trouble.”

“What trouble? Ma asks, “Ain’t it safe in Indiana?”

“I believe it is Mam, but there’s a lot of public health nuts between here and there and they’re just stewing for a fight with all you fatties.”

“We can take care of ourselves,” Pa says.

“That’s what they all say,” the pig grunts, mouth smeared with chocolate.

“Well thank you for the advice but we should be on our way,” Ma says.

“Do what you want but I’d head back if I were you. You seem nice like folk, I’m sure there’s plenty growin’ to be done back home.”

“Believe me there ain’t,” Pa says, “The PH nuts have put an end to that.”

“Such a shame to see so many good gainers struggling,” the pig says as he stuffs another chocolate bar into his mouth. He thumps theroof of the car and begins to waddle away.

“He sure ain’t struggling,” Preacher says. Tom who has remained stoney silent nudges him and Pa drives slowly off.

“My chocolates, they were my chocolates!” Timmy moans.

At the next rest stop the family bags up as many snacks as they can fit and is getting ready to leave when a huge middle aged couple start chatting with Ma. They ask where the family is heading and Ma says that they don’t know; just that they want to get to Indiana. The couple tell them that they won’t make it today and probably not tomorrow. They say that a group of locals have blocked the highway and with the support of public health officials are denying access to the state to anyone who is not a card carrying Surplus. Ma states that they have been members for over twenty years. The huge lady suggests that in that case they should head to the makeshift Surplus refugee camp for the night. It’s only twenty miles down the road. Ma is thrilled. She never knew that such a place existed. Praise Shawn. She hurries back to the car to tell the others.

The makeshift camp is down a dirt road only a few miles from the highway. Hundreds of extra large canvas tents line a large field. As they drive up to the gate they can smell the meat roasting on a hundred barbecues. “This place is going to be like heaven, we’ll be alright here, that’s for sure!” Ma says.

A portly porter is guarding the gate. He is a friendly looking young man of barely 500 lbs. At frist he welcomes Pa and his family but then spots Ma. “Erm she won’t be so welcome here,” he says. “What?” says Pa. “You will have to keep her hidden, her type is not welcome. I shouldn’t really let you in but as you have three young boys with you then I’m going to make an exception.” “Just do as he says,” Tom says wisely. Him and Preacher look at each other, they share a subconscious understanding.

They drive in and soon find an empty tent in which to sleep. The four males head straight to the nearest barbecues. Ma waits in the tent for Pa to come back with her share.

The giant barbecues are attended by eight massive men, all at least the same size as the porter. Two men are tending to the meat, four others are eating ferociously, while the other two suck contentedly on each other's exorbitantly swollen breasts. Timmy stares at them longingly till Preacher hands him a plate of spare ribs and he is distracted by the food. Pa loads up six plates for him and Ma and heads straight back to the tent. He tells the older boys to look after Timmy.

Tom and Preacher tuck in and take it in turns to feed each other ribs and lamb shank. Timmy finishes off his ribs and licks the greasy sauce from his lips before helping himself to eight foot long hot dogs. He sits down on a bank, basketball belly spilling out under his t-shirt, forcing his fat thick legs apart and continues to chow down. As their bellies begin to expand Tom and Preacher are offered beers by one of the other large men and begin to make friends. They eat and drink and talk for hours, forgetting all about Timmy, who has now moved onto the burgers after finishing the hot dogs and twenty six chicken thighs. They laugh and eat and burp till they are both so bloated that they can barely move.

Preacher notices how Tom’s breasts have thickly filled out. They are rich and plump and doughy, atop of his huge rounded out barrel belly. Tom notices Preacher looking and slyly moves his hand to Preacher’s massively protruding rear end. He cops a feel of a huge softly fat buttock and smashes a burger into Preacher’s gaping mouth. Tom whispers to him that they should go somewhere private. Timmy waddles past them unnoticed carrying a fresh plate of ribs. He is planning on going for a second round of everything. He gets two thirds of the way through his plan. Face all red and puffy he passes out on the bank falling into a deep food coma, his t-shirt ripped open and his top fly long since broken due to the strain, he lays on his back, his hugely glutted round belly rising up above him reflecting the light of the moon. Piles of empty plates, soda cans and discarded bones keep him company as he sleeps. Tom and Preacher are long since gone.

Watson notices too large shadows moving in the brush. He beckons the local boys forwards. They proceed quietly. As they get closer the PH Enforcement Officer twigs what they are doing there. “Eww, Watson, that’s gross!” the most athletic of the local boys whispers to the officer, “look how fat they are!”

Tom is mounting the larger Preacher, head bowed on his knees praying for Tom to pump harder. With his hugely stuffed barrel belly rolling over the small of Preacher’s fat back, Tom is starting to run out of energy. He hasn’t done this since he was at a Surplus summer camp five years ago. Just as he’s about to release he hears footsteps approaching. He halts. “What’s wrong?” Preacher asks him. Tom shushes him to be quiet and whispers, “Someone’s coming.” “Don’t worry, it will just be one of the other guys,” Preacher says. “No,” Tom says, “The footsteps are too soft.” Both young men hitch their pants back up over their huge asses and peak over the brush. “There they are!” Watson yells. “I’ll go first and draw them away,” Preacher says. Tom pleads with him not to do it but it is too late. “Oi cunts!” Preacher yells, “Bet you can’t catch my fat ass!” and thunders away down towards the river. The men pursue him but despite their much greater speed the heavily obese preacher has disappeared out of sight by the time they reach the water’s edge. Tom sneaks quietly back to the tent.

“Where have you been?” Pa asks him. “Where’s your brother?” Ma asks him. “Oh shit!” Tom says. He explains that Timmy is probably fine with the other guys at the barbecue and Ma scolds him for being so careless. He explains what happened with Preacher and the Public Health Enforcement Officer and local skinny youths. Pa says that they need to leave now.

They soon find Timmy bloated and fast asleep. “He looks so happy, what a shame we have to leave this place,” Ma says. Tom and Pa explain to the other Surplus gathered what happened. They tell them not to leave but Tom and Pa know that it is not safe to stay. The PH fascist saw him. A group of Surplus men arm themselves with forks and steak knives and go to look for the intruders. The Load family go back to the car in such a rush that they leave most of their belongings and food behind. The Surplus catch the health freak vigilantes about two hours later and roast them alive on one of the barbecues.

Pa and Tom take it in turns to drive through the night. At around six in the morning they pull into a 24 hour IHOP. It is mercifully quiet. They are offered a booth but take a table for comfort. Exhausted from lack of sleep they order eight plates of New York Cheesecake Pancakes each. They need the quick sugar rush. They can stop again for breakfast proper in a couple of hours. Tom finishes his first and says that he needs the toilet before disappearing out of the back of the restaurant. They search for him for three hours before Pa is forced to persuade Ma that Tom chose to leave for the safety of the family and that they must carry on without him. Ma cries non-stop for the rest of the day.

Scared and alone, the three remaining Loads drive all day in spite of their hunger, desperate to reach Indiana before nightfall. They don’t make it. Unsure whether they can safely stay in a motel they eventually find an abandoned barn just as their car runs out of gas.

Upon entering they are surprised to see a 1000 lb giant pregnant man sitting in a corner. He is rubbing his immensely distended gigantic belly. He welcomes them and explains that it’s triplets. He syas that this place used to be a farm until only a few days ago when the last of the Surplus left to cross the state line only three miles away. “So close but so far!” Pa bemoans. They will never survive such a journey by foot.

The giant is called Tim. This greatly pleases Timmy. Tim tells them that he refused to leave, that he was determined to have the triplets here. “Once they’re born,” he says, “I will call Shawn and they will come back for me.” Pa doesn’t believe him. Ma suggests that they can all go together after the birth. “But they won’t let your type in,” he says. “We’re all Surplus members, fully paid for twenty years. It will be fine,” Pa says. Tim says that he wasn’t talking to him or the boy, he was talking to his wife. “We can go,” he says, “But she will have to stay behind.” “Why?” Pa asks. Tim pats his belly and feels one of the triplets kicking. “Because she’s no longer needed,” he says.

Timmy begins to cry. Ma tries to comfort him. She tells him that she will never leave him. “It’s not that,” he says, “I’m hungry!” and returns to balling his heart out. He weeps and cries and screams for the next two hours. Ma and Pa try to appease him with stories of the land of milk and honey but it is no good, the pain in his basketball sized stomach is too much to bear. He yells and screams and kicks out at his helpless parents.

Ma can’t take any more. She approaches the heavily pregnant giant and says, “Please sir, I know it is too late for me, but can you please be so good as to feed my baby. It's too much for a mother to bear to see him starve and suffer so. He’s not eaten anything since this morning and then it was only a mere 8,000 calories. Mother to mother I beseech you.”

Tim looked down at the screaming little ball of fat and said, “Of course, it is the least that I can do.” Timmy immediately stopped screaming and with tears still rolling down his fat cheeks he climbed high up onto the giant’s belly and attached his greedy lips to a gigantic pert and hairy nipple. There he suckled down over three gallons of thick, heavy, calorie rich, genetically created, man milk laced with growth hormones until his belly was as big as a beach ball. The thirteen year old boy, stomach swollen bigger than ever before, fell happily asleep, still attached to his new mother’s enormous breast.