Page 40 of Fast Forward

I kicked off my shoes and took off my curved hem outfit, opting to leave my bra on even though it wasn’t exactly employee of the month in the breast support department. I stepped into the briefs, the fabric stretching to three times its size and pulled them up towards my hips where they abruptly stopped like a car in back-to-back traffic on the highway, or in this case, the ‘thighway’.

“Ugh,” I grunted in effort, pulling the briefs upwards. They only moved a smidgen, so I grunted and pulled some more. Bungy jumping would have come in handy right about now. “Ugh,” I continued, jumping up and down on the spot in the hope of forcing the briefs over my hips, probably causing the hors d’oeuvres in the kitchen to spring up and down on their platters, while the robotic caterers watched in confusion.

“C’mon!” I pulled harder and the briefs shot up over my hips and squashed my jelly belly into oblivion. Well, apart from the upper abdomen where the rolls billowed out like a giant mushroom. The magic suit would fix that.

“Done.” I breathed a sigh of relief until dread washed over me as I realised each trip to the bathroom would be an Olympic feat. I’d just have to go easy on the drinks and anyway, I only had to survive until cake time.

Now for the suit. I held the tiny thing in front of me and pulled at it. It stretched quite well. I lifted it over my head, fed my arms through it and it sat in a horizontal clump across my collarbones.

Right, step one – check! Now to pull it down over my body. I drew in a deep breath and exhaled, quickly pulling down at the suit, but it only went halfway over my breasts. I breathed deeply again and, letting as much air whoosh out of my lungs as I could, yanked it further down my chest, flattening the boobs on the way. I might as well cancel that mammogram appointment as the SlimFX Magic Suit obviously had its own in-built mammogram function.

“Phew,” I said, the suit now clumped across my ribcage.

Step two – check! The last step was to squeeze it down my abdomen and hopefully dissolve the spare tire wrapped around my middle. I shouldn’t have glanced in the mirror at that moment but I did, shocked to see I almost resembled a Christmas cracker; pinched tight at top and bottom but thick in the middle.

“Okay, let’s do this.” I grabbed the suit with both hands and dragged it down my waist, squeezing my torso like a tube of toothpaste and eventually it slid over my hips where it ended just above my knees.

“Mission accomplished.” I nodded in satisfaction. Except… why were my breaths coming in shallow bursts?

The suit was constricting my ribcage and I couldn’t draw a deep breath. This awareness only made things worse and I panicked. Oh no, oh no, I’d better take this thing off!

I reversed my previous steps and pulled upwards at the suit, guiding it up over my hips and belly, and with one giant grunt, up and over my breasts which almost slapped me in the face from the effort. I took a few breaths of relief as the suit sat under my armpits for a moment. I crossed my arms, delivering my hands to opposite armpits and proceeded to pull the suit upwards over my shoulders and head. Only it got stuck halfway at my elbows, my face obscured by a blanket of beige and my arms up in the air, trapped alongside my head inside the suit that sure as hell wasn’t magic.

“Argh!” This thing was like a bloody straitjacket! I’d like to see Houdini get out of this one. I yanked and yanked, but the suit wouldn’t budge, and now it was almost cutting off my air supply, like I had envisioned my turkey neck could have done during the bungy jump. “Argh!” I panicked, the suit muffling my voice. I twisted and turned, swivelled this way and that, all the while trying to pull the suit up over my head, but there it stayed. In my furious efforts, I bumped into the edge of the bed and toppled over to the floor. My legs flailed about as I tried to get up without using my hands, which were waving about helplessly above my head with my elbow joints locked in place by the ‘miracle rip-proof triple-woven fabric’ of the magic suit.

Magic Suit my arse. More like Death Suit – this thing was killing me!

I grabbed the edge of the fabric again, pulling as hard as I could, but only managed to squash my face, my upturned nose now practically touching my forehead. I must have looked like one of those criminals who cover their face with stockings. I could rob a bank in this thing, only I’d need an accomplice – or a guide dog – to show me where the hell I was going and possibly an oxygen tank feeding me air through a straw.

Oh my God! What was I going to do? My mind swirled in one chaotic haze, as panic rose within and the chances of getting out of this predicament alive seemed slimmer by the minute. Unlike my abdomen.

Crazy images flashed through my mind of Will finding me passed out on the floor of the bedroom, the magic suit still covering my head, arms still stuck up in the air… paramedics whisking me off to hospital… Will waiting anxiously outside the operating room and the doctor emerging with an expression of defeat, pulling the mask off his face in resignation.

I’m sorry, Mr McSnelly. We did everything we could. We managed to remove some of it, but couldn’t get it all, I’m afraid. The situation was too far advanced and she couldn’t fight any longer. I’m very sorry.

Will would collapse in tears and the doctor would go back to the operating room and sign my death certificate. Cause of death: Asphyxiation by SlimFX Magic Suit.

A lawsuit – ha! how appropriate – would ensue and, if the suits weren’t taken off the market, they would at least come with a warning on the packet like cigarettes: Use magic suit at own risk. May cause death, deformity, or post-traumatic stress disorder. They’d have a grotesque picture of some poor woman – probably me – trapped in the suit. Others would show gangrenous arms from the circulation being cut off and faces permanently disfigured from the pressure exerted by the suit during its attempted take-off mission. I realised then that I’d have to have a closed coffin at my funeral so as to spare my family from the trauma of seeing me like that. Speaking of coffins, I’d probably need an extra-long one to accommodate my arms, permanently extended above my head from not only the stuck magic suit but also rigor mortis.

Before my mind got carried away further with ridiculous visions from the lack of oxygen, I knew I had to get help.

“Help!” I yelled in a muffled voice, trudging blindly towards where I remembered the bedroom door to be. “Ryan, help!” I screamed through the door and, unable to open it, I banged it with my raised fists, adding a kick of my foot for good measure. The door swung open and banged me on the head, only adding to my dizziness and disorientation.

“Mum! Oh my God!” Ryan’s voice exclaimed, as he yanked at the top of the suit.

“Get it off me!” I yelled.

“I’m trying, I’m trying!” He continued yanking.

The poor kid, I’d probably scarred him for life. Thank God I had the good sense to keep my bra on underneath, otherwise this situation would be a whole lot worse with those two buggers on the loose.

“Ugh!” Ryan grunted and then spoke in a muffled voice.

“What did you say? I can’t hear properly!” My arms were stuck against my ears so not only could I barely breathe, speak or move, I was half deaf as well.

“I said: you’ll have to pull it back down, okay?” he yelled.

“No! I have to get it off, right now!”

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