Your lunch break begins in two minutes, (not that you really need it,) but given the snail's pace of business today, you figure you can leave a bit earlier. You subconsciously grab a few brownies, snacking on one as you put up the "Closed" sign in the entrance—note to self: "Help Wanted"—and walk back to your apartment. One of the great things about your job is the short commute from your apartment to the bakery, since they're just two blocks away from one another.
By the time you've entered your apartment, you've finished the last brownie. Coupled with all of the other food that you've eaten in the past hour, your already sizable belly is bulging with a food baby constrained by your buttoned jeans. You unbutton them, wishing your belly would just fit for once, when it suddenly recedes back into its normal size. Ecstatic, you walk into your closet and pull out your old clothes—the ones you wore before you got your job. After a brief struggle, you manage to mostly change into them.
You walk in front of your mirror, you can't help but laugh at yourself. Your jeans can't make it up beyond your thighs, constraining your calves and knees tightly. You're shirt doesn't even begin to cover your belly, which burgeons out from your body after a year of pampering.
I want to fit into these clothes, you command your power. You begin to pull up your pants.
After about a minute, you can feel them move up your thighs. Another minute and they've reached your waist, a muffin top still present. A few seconds later, you're able to zip them up. You remember these pants. They were the first pair that you caused the button to fly off of thanks to your incessant snacking. By this point, your belly is small enough so that gravity can pull down your shirt over your midriff for you. You look in the mirror, admiring a 110 pound body that you haven't seen in a long time.
This is great. I can eat all of the food I want and never get fat! That's the thought that had gone through your mind when you learned of your power.
It's not the one that you have right now.
You find that you liked your thicker form much better than this one. In your frustration towards the money you had to spend on new clothes, you were only semi-aware of your feelings toward your weight gain. The truth is… you liked being fat.
You put on your fat clothes. With a showy snap of your fingers, your body returns to its 187 pound shape and form. With this newfound revelation in mind, you strike a few poses. You aren't just satisfied with your body—you're thrilled with it and all of its jiggling curves.
What if it were bigger?
This thought runs through your mind as soon as your stomach rumbles. Experimentally, you restore your food baby. You examine yourself, taking in every detail, every reaction to every detail.
You head to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, you pull out a bag from Burger King, the leftovers from yesterday's dinner. After reheating it, you sit down, devouring its contents with gusto. Returning to the fridge, you open the freezer and pull out a carton of ice cream and dig in. You're trudging through to the halfway point when you feel full.
So full… I wish I had the will to finish this. And with that, you were hungry again. Deducing that this was just part of your power, you continue stuffing yourself with ice cream. When you're finished, you head to the bathroom to weigh yourself. The scale stops at 191. You bump that number up to 192. Your jeans, unable to take it anymore, eject the button, your belly bursting out like a blob of pudding, resting over the waistband of your jeans.
This is going to be a killer on my wallet, all of this clothes shopping. Acknowledging your subtle wish, your clothes grow to accommodate your new girth. You smile.
I could get used to this. I just wish that I could get fatter faster. Remembering your power, you smile as an idea runs through your head.
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