People had been talking about the Elysium Archipelago since before the Eloi Resort had been built on its eastern island—it had been a hot topic for quite a long time, in fact. Such a drastic move by the ultra-rich, to literally build a set of land masses so far off of the shores of the Western world had been unheard of at the time, and had only stirred controversy since its announcement.
Following the precedent set by the Palm Islands in the Middle East, the Elysium Archipelago was entirely man made. The project had required tens of billions of cubic feet of sand from the ocean’s floor to be vibro-compacted into a tightly terraformed, meticulously hedged and cartographed set of land masses that could support themselves, as well as flora and fauna, in the North Atlantic Ocean. Officially charted in international waters, even those with concerns about the disruption and displacement of marine life were not as vehemently against the project as the members of the not-rich-enough crowd who crooned loudly about the threat of what such a large system of corporate-owned properties would do to disrupt the political climate.
Ultimately though, the engineered island chain amounted to little more than a few extra dots on any map of the North Atlantic Ocean, at least to the common man. They were identifiable as the perfectly formed and quarter-cut diamond shape placed almost exactly halfway between New York and Lisbon. To most of the world, they didn’t amount for much. Businessmen and tourists could glimpse out of their windows during trans-Atlantic flights and gawk at the first Corporate Republic in action, but that was as close as many would ever get to “Supply Side Island”. Thanks in part to the inordinate amount of corporate sponsorship that went into such an endeavor the price to even visit was reserved for those with vast amounts of expendable assets and thus, a glittering unattainable goal for many.
Combatting this was the original intention behind the establishment of the Eloi Resort; to allow some of the other 99% into the exclusive, exciting world that the Elysium Archipelago could offer them—beautiful scenery, relaxation, and a complete separation from everything horrible about modern life.
The entire eastern diamond had been set aside as a means for the resort, designed to reap the benefits of having a clientele to cater to. It was still largely exclusive to the hideously wealthy, with some exceptions. Tycoons, celebrities, and royalty were the largest benefactors to the budding tourism industry that acted as Elysium’s only stream of revenue, but those from other walks of life began to trickle in here or there through their own respective means. Senators scrimped and saved, businessmen made donations, and dictators cashed their countries’ piggy banks all in the name of the vacation of a lifetime.
And then, there was Kim Rhodes.
She’d won her entrance through a radio show.
Kim could barely afford to dream about owning her own house one day, and these people could buy an island. Buy and build and island. One-fourth of a small island nation, even. And she’d been invited to dip a toe in their world, all expenses paid, for one week.
Of course, she had no way of knowing ahead of time about the quarantine.
Laid out in the sun, her long brown hair tied up in a messy bun, she looked like a dumpling left out to dry. Big at the bottom and rising into the air by measure of her plump belly, the lucky contest winner laid out on the shore and did her best to relax amidst the turmoil.
The rest of the world was freaking out, and it was all she could do to just lay there and try not to freak out with them. Every day she seemed to get a notification from friends at her job dipping tea about what Gordge was doing to enforce social distancing, and she did her best to keep up with the news but it was all so depressing. Laying out on the beach, her biggest concern was that she’d be needing a bigger swimsuit soon…
All this rich buffet food…
Kim self-consciously began to run her hand along the dome of her fleshy white belly as it puffed out over the bottom of her two-piece. Her chubby hand sunk slightly into the fluffy gut that rose and fell like the shore spread between the ever-shrinking frame of her thighs. Her breaths timed to the waves, her waistline seemed to rise and fall with the gentle tides of the Eloi Island shores…
I need to start cutting back…
Since she’d been flown ashore, Kim had entertained little thought about moderation. FOMO had reared its ugly head and, considering that she’d never have enough money to visit a place like this again, guided her throughout the first week of her vacation by the twists and turns of her stomach. She had eaten anything and everything that she wanted to without fear of repercussion because, well, she was on vacation!
That attitude had carried her through the first week too, out of habit… and then the second out of routine. Now it was nearing the sixth week of her shelter in place order and she hadn’t exactly been weening herself off of the rich, high-calorie foods that the Eloi resort specialized in…
I’m not really on vacation anymore…
Her buttercream body poured out of her tight black one piece even before she’d debuted it on the Elysium shores. She was built like a top—she had wide hips and an almost circular middle that spread far across her lap in a large, singular roll of belly fat. Had this been any other resort, she would have forgone the bathing suit entirely, content to stay off of the beach and enjoy the other amenities. But the chance to potentially bask in the presence of celebrities was too good of a chance to pass up.
Even though she’d spent most of her time on the beach wishing that she had.
She had been quite large when she’d arrived, larger than the other contest winners by varying degrees. At a whopping two hundred and fifty pounds, Kim Rhodes was already off to a bad start in the dietary department. After almost a month and a half of lounging around, eating and doing as she pleased, Kim could only cringe at the thought of what the scale went up to now.
Two hundred and sixty?
Two hundred and sixty-five?
Every time she squeezed into her bathing suits, she felt like a whale that had washed ashore and beached itself. Though she was hardly the only heavyset resort goer (politicians, senators, and congressmen were historically not the most active bunch) Kim couldn’t help but feel that all eyes were on her as she waddled in the sand. Her wide cheeks wobbling with every belabored step, jiggling all the way down to her calves as she kicked sand up behind her—and that wasn’t even counting the fact that she could feel her belly bounce inside her swimsuit. It was why she’d tried to stay off the beach where she could at the beginning of all this. Back when there were still prying eyes to be found.
Designer white sunglasses from the gift shop (they’d costed a whopping two thirds of an E-Coin) nestled across the bridge of her nose and cut slightly into the puffy pink curve of her cheek as she waddled across the sands. Her arms hung out in angles as she splayed thickly along the shore, thick legs spreading wide yet still touching along the thighs as she engaged in what had become a daily routine of sunbathing.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author
