Part 4
Daphne awoke to the sound of only the muffled static coming from her alarm clock. Looking in its direction and reading 6:50 on the display, she yawned and rubbed her eyes lazily. Well, she had managed to oversleep again, she thought to herself. But at least things seemed different this morning. That was until...
“RISE AND SHINE CAMPERS!!!” a cheesy voice bellowed over the radio.
“This Buck, the better half of your FAAAAVVVVORITE morning duo, Buck and The Weasel on 107.5 FM - isn’t that right Weezy old boy??”
“You know it Buckeroo!!!”, the host’s unseen sidekick chirped back. “But I have to say, some of you out there are waaaay too salty this lovely morning.”
“We have received,” The Weasel continued, “at least TWENTY calls complaining about that Britney track that we played a bit ago!!!”
“Where’s the love for our girl B-Money??”, Buck replied, bursting into laughter. “I mean first off, we haven’t played that song in like 6 months. And secondly, I can’t help but feel y’all jumped off the bandwagon after poor little Britney started packing on the pounds!!”
The sound of an oinking cartoon pig was played over the conversation as the duo laughed at their own snarky jokes. “I know, RIGHT???” The Weasel finished as the latest track from Imagine Dragons faded in to the mix.
“FAT GIRLS NEED LOVE TOO, PEOPLE!!!”
Daphne shuddered. “Oh no, she sobbed in dispair. “Not again....”
Struggling into a seated position on the side of her bed, she looked down in horror at her now huge and flabby tits. They sagged heavily onto her belly, with bloated pink nipples dangling perilously to the sides, almost touching her crumpled bedspread.
As she grunted and lurched herself upright, that large and bloated belly surged out onto the tops of her pale, fat thighs in two distinct sections of blubber. Looking down, Daphne realized she could no longer see her feet.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING TO ME?!?!?!” she screamed as she wobbled into the bathroom. A pair of flies buzzed before her; they circled the bathroom mirror in a frantic mid-air dance before breezing past Daphne’s head back out into her bedroom. For a moment, she stared in stunned silence at purple number that had been scrawled hastily upon the mirror.
240. A little “sad” smiley face had been added next to it; perhaps to drive home the message.
She mouthed out that number to herself in disbelief, and took in the doughy, out of shape image that greeted her this morning. Her face looked round, fat and tired. Daphne now had a well defined and thick double chin, one of the few reliable points of “definition” that remained on what was now a noticeably fat body.
It was as if her upper body had grown jealous of that big booty and thighs, and swelled up like a balloon to even the score. Zero muscle tone could be seen on her arms - she raised both of them in unison and attempted the biceps pose of a body builder. Daphne watched in amazement as her meaty upper arms sagged down towards the floor like jello; they were now marbled with fat and discoloration. Within a few seconds she grew tired from the pose and dropped her heavy arms in defeat like a set of useless flippers.
Her bulging double belly rolls stuck out just past those matronly udders, while the bottom half of Daphne’s body was clearly in no mood to relinquish any weight gain momentum to her upper torso. She was now a genuine pear; her burgeoning rolls of back and side fat merged into the rippled shelf of her fat ass, while her tree-trunk thighs were marred with cellulite and stretch marks, pressing together all the way down to her dimpled knees.
Tears rolled down her face as she turned to her closet. “What am I going to do,” she cried as she pawed through the assortment of outfits hanging from the rack. “None of this is stuff gonna fit me now and...”
She froze as she pulled down a pair of jeans and examined the tag. Size 20. That can’t be, she thought...sure, she had gained some weight at times in her life but never got up above a 16. Throwing the loose cut Lane Bryant offering to the floor, she grabbed another pair. They were 20/22.
Stepping back and turning on the light, she realized in shock that her entire closet was stocked with plus-sized outfits. Stretch denim jeans...XXL yoga pants...huge, ugly black skirts and tops...it was the true wardrobe of a fat girl.
It was then that it hit her. SHE was that fat girl. This was somehow her life, and her clothing. Panic gripped her again as she snatched the original pair of jeans from the floor and pulled them up over her rotund calves and thighs.
“Well at least these fit,” she grumbled to herself. Although as she reached for the waist band and fumbled with the zipper, she realized it was a snugger situation than she had estimated. Her squishy belly oozed out between her hands, frustrating the effort as she tried to suck in her gut and close the gap.
A few minutes later the job was done. She gazed in the bathroom mirror and saw that her upper belly completely covered the waist band, while her lower belly loaf bulged out from within the strained fabric with look of an oversized water balloon. Tears streamed down Daphne’s chubby cheeks as she pulled a huge sweatshirt down over her fat arms and headed out to the living room.
She knew what the greeting would be before the words left the mouth of her roommate.
“Well good morning, princess!!” Mora exclaimed as she hopped off the exercise bike in the corner of the room. “I knew you wouldn’t be making it to the gym...AGAIN...so I figured I would pick up the slack for the household.”
Mora shot a disappointed look in Daphne’s direction; she grabbed a water bottle from nearby and took a quick swig. Unable to formulate a proper response, Daphne just stood there in amazement as she examined Mora’s rapidly shrinking body.
Mora was still very fat, to be sure. But in comparison to the couch-bound blob of a few “days” ago, almost unrecognizable. Down to around 300 pounds, Mora was bulging out of her own pair of plus sized sweatpants. But unlike Daphne, who was already looking at that very couch day-dreaming of a lazy mid-morning nap, Mora seemed to have been magically struck with the vigor and energy of a professional athlete.
As she walked towards the kitchen, she patted Daphne’s sizeable paunch in sympathy. “But don’t you worry,” she said with a wink. “You’ll snap out of this funk...and I got your back. Us big girls need to stick together - am I right or am I right??”
A lump grew in Daphne’s throat as she stood there, totally mortified by the turn of events. “Um Mora,” she asked timidly, no longer feeling superior to the fat girl who had once been the butt of her jokes, “do you ever get....deja vu??”
Mora cackled like a witch as Daphne shifted side to side, totally uncomfortable in her newly fat and bulky body. “I sure do, Daphne,” she replied with an evil tone in her voice.
She pointed to an array of fast food packaging and candy wrappers scattered on the floor in front of the couch. “Every time I see the mess you’ve left from your nightly pig out sessions, it’s as if I’m living the same day over and over again.”