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shrubberylogistic · 5 months

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Waking Up Fat

Dawn’s warm light filtered through the curtains, and Lily slowly roused from her slumber. With a sleepy stretch, she lifted an arm, then her back, attempting to sit up. Her body pulsed with a clammy heat, fixed and unresponsive.

Lily tilted her head, mouth dry. Her eyes fluttered open to the ceiling. Something felt funny. Groggy and disoriented, she gently nudged an elbow over the pillow, reaching for her phone. Her arms were heavy.

Too heavy.

Something was up. Lily’s heart raced, her senses ratcheting. Something wasn’t right. She craned her neck, trying to rouse her legs. Gravity strengthened its welcome. The bed creaked beneath her, and it took all of Lily’s strength to crunch her palms, pressing, hoisting a shoulder to the headboard.

Her movements were wearsome, stunted - strapped down, somehow. Lily felt through her bedsheets, under and around. Layers of sloth shifted with her soft, cumbersome frame. She thrust the duvet off, looked down, and froze.

Her body had ballooned, languid and overwhelming. Lily stopped breathing. Her belly loomed - an immense mass that flopped half way to her knees. Her legs creased together where her bedtime shorts had burst open; too tiny to contain her new curves, the few pink scraps left faltering around a snapped, sunken waistband.

A panicked gasp left her lips. Lily shuffled free, kicking her sweaty covers, her hips spilling to the edge of the mattress. She stroked chubby, fidgeting fingers over the contours of vast, foreign curves. Summoning every ounce of strength, she swung her colossal legs over the bedside. The floor trembled as she stood, gripped by arousal, stunned by the pressure on her muscles. She wobbled unsteadily for a moment before grabbing the dresser for support.

Gazing at herself in the mirror, Lily whimpered. Her face, once delicate and angular, was now round and bloated, framed by a cascade of unruly hair. Her pyjama tee was a strap of twisted, fraying threads, banded around her heaving chest. Lily clapped a flat palm to her mouth, blushing. Every movement was an effort. Her breathing came in frantic, laboured wheezes.

She was massive. Not an inch had escaped change. Lily rubbed her eyes, balking at her reflection. Her slender cheekbones had gone. Her neckline had vanished. She had gone to bed slender, shapely, poised and assured. Yet clear as the crisp sky that stretched above the neighbourhood, she’d woken up a quaking, panting blob, shorn of most what she’d been wearing. Her hefty chest hunkered as she peeled off her shirt, casting a marvelling glance at her adopted form. A deep relish, a groundedness, filtered through her stretching, timid skin.

Lily giggled. Tensing her toes, she gingerly made her way to the bathroom, her footsteps resonating throughout the house, thudding on the hardwood floor. She bit her lip at the swing of her gut, quivering at the way it gently kneaded her thighs. The scale was a challenge to see beneath her paunch. Steadying herself with a shaking hand on the sink, she quietly stepped on, scanning the display and confirming her thoughts with a gulp.

350.8 pounds.

Disbelief rallied, engulfing her. Lily let out a moan. A turgid heat took the space between her legs, her mind spinning, her heartbeat soaring, her feet tingling. She was lardy, for the first time in her life. She was a whale. She rested her belly on the sink and let it drop, hanging in a long and lazy curve that filled the bowl to the taps.

Lily crossed her throbbing fingers. Her face was a picture of intense, awestruck wonder. She knew there was more to discover. The simple act of showering felt like a Herculean task. Lifting a huge leg into the tub, she spread her stance, struggling to balance while she twisted the tap. Hot water flowed down her bulky form - a comfort she clung to as she dreamed of the big, wide world outside. She dried her body and towelled her hair, squeezing her arms into a gown that clung to her like a second skin.

Downstairs, preparing the most important meal of the day became an ordeal. The staircase was a heart-stopping descent, knuckles white with every crunching, undercalculated step. The kitchen was a maze of limitations. Wide and ungainly, Lily struggled to stretch for the cupboards - too big-bellied to climb up on the counter like she used to. Every step, every task took longer.

She watched helplessly, beholden to urges as the cereal box slipped out her grip, spilling across the floor. Her ass clipped the cutlery drawer, wobbling as she seized on a knife and fork. Fishing four thick slices of bread from the packet, she was in minutes munching woozily through a clutch of syrup strewn pancakes and slices of peanut butter on toast, smacking her lips, perched precariously on the edge of her old kitchen chair.

Lily took a long draw of milk from the bottle, head in her hand. Even the motion of eating felt different. Her stomach gurgled, and she found herself groaning, turgid and stiff. Lily swallowed a burp, doggedly reducing her breakfast to crusts and crumbs, slurping and inhaling. Sucking her fingers, she gave her belly a friendly pat. She was still so hungry. Reaching for the remnants of the cereal in the box, she took a pudgy fistful, then another, and another, cramming them into her mouth in peals of indulgent bliss.

The thought of ordering in struck her like a thunderbolt…

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