"Uh, yeah mom...I'm just...*cough-cough*...comming down with a cold...or something."
Your mother doesn't answer for a few seconds, and just as you're thinking she's fallen for it...she says "Honey, you sound terrible. I'm comming in."
"Please, Mom...I'm...really sick this morning. Can't I just sleep in? It's a Saturday and all..."
Then another voice came from behind the door. The voice of Elisa Bollen. 'Swollen' Bollen to you and your friends. The same girl who you'd made fun of at the party last night. Could she have something to do with this?
"Honey, it's me Elisa. Are you okay?
Tom tried again to get to his/her feet. Rocking her bulk to one side she managed to maneuver her belly and breasts into flopping that way, and used the weight to slowly heave over onto her hands and knees without kneeling on her apron of bellyfat. With that out of the way, she grabbed the bedpost...then anchored her other hand on a nearby dresser. With a girlish grunt of exertion, she got one foot into position...then another...then heaved herself to a standing position. As she did so, the door burst open and Toms mother entered the room with Elisa Bollen just behind. Had she really called Elisa fat last night? That had been a good joke...as Tom was now nearly four-times Elisa's bulk.
Toms mother cried out in horror, then helped Tom manouver her vast, wobbling body to the bed so she could sit down, all the while saying "OH, my goodness! You fell down again! Honey, PLEASE don't feel embaressed to call out for help if that happens again! Remember, even though you try to stay mobile, you're still a VERY big girl. You need help with this sort of thing sometimes. Elisa, help me get her turned around."
Elisa took one of Toms fat, swollen hands - hands so fat that she couldn't squeeze then into a fist - and said "It's okay, Honey. I'm here."
You want to ask why your mom is acting like this is normal...or for that matter why Elisa is acting like she'd your friend...when you get a really good look at your room. Somehow...it's NOT the room it had been only minutes ago...
It's pink. The walls, carpet, bed, furnature...everything seems to be a bright pink. What isn't pink is either white of a soft yellow. Your posters of sports teams and pinup girls are gone, replaced with posters of horses, unicorns, pegasus and other girlish fantasy images. A shelf that once held trophies and such was no dominated by a set of vintage "My Pretty Pony" figurines, and on the wall where his pictures had been...were images of first a plump child...then a fat girl...then finally an obese young lady that basicly had his facial features. She was huge...but not quite as huge as she was right now. In a few of the pictures, she was with Elisa Bollen...and in one with a heart-shaped frame was the two of them, grinning and happy. "Best Friends Forever" was on the frame.
"I...I'm fine...mom..." she said, but she was out of breath from all the exertion. Her mother held her and rocked her softly, and Elisa never let go of her hand as she said "You want to rest for a bit? We don't have to hang out right now. I can come back later, and we can play video games or watch television if you'd like?"
Tom tried to understand everything that had happened this morning. He'd gone to sleep as a handsome, athletic young man...and woke as a girl fat enough to work in a side show. She raised her swollen, fat hands and couldn't bend them to touch is face as the upper arms were to fat. Her breasts were like bloated watermellons...her belly like a great, round ball that rose ahead of her like the prow of a ship. Her hips were at least five-feet wide and her legs were almost too heavy to lift. It was horrible...just horrible.
And yet...Tom hadn't been very close to his mother for years, and it was both pleasant and soothing to have her hugging her huge body, rocking her gently and soothing her. She looked into her mothers eyes, and saw concern warring with love. The love a mother feels for her most helpless child.
Then...she saw some official looking papers on her end table...and noted it was from the hospitol. She reached for it...but couldn't do it.
"You want these, Honey?" asked her mother, who took the papers and handed them to her. "Thanks, mom..." she said, having gotten her breath back "...I just need to rest for a bit. Actually, I'm kinda hungry."
Both her mother and Elisa laughed in relief, and Elisa said with a giggle "Well, THAT'S suprising news, Honey! I mean...you're always hungry."
Mom and Elisa both left, and soon Toms belly was rumbling as the greasy smells of frying bacon, eggs, sausage and ham began to float up to her. She groaned in want and disgust, then read the papers she'd found. As she was expecting, they identified her as "Honey Hamilton" instead of "Tom Hamilton", and a vague memory of humiliation came to her...that as they called her new best friend "Swollen Bollen" the kids in school had always called her "Honey Ham". These were phantom memoroes, and she fought them away...but they came back soon enough.
The papers were a little hard to parse, but they implied she had some kind of glandular disorder that slowed her metabolism and blah-blah-blah it started to get VERY technical. Under notes for the patient, though...the doctor had written "Honeys' body chemistry is unique in the annals of science, and needs to be handled in a special way. I'd suggest feeding her as often as she wants, and as much as she wants...as her caloric needs are greatly amplified by her condition. Considerher body an engine that desperatly needs five-times the fuel to power itself, but her sluggish metabolism keeps her from burning off the excess fat. I fear this will eventually (perhaps even soon) result in genuine immobility, because even though she tries to stay active (I see she still attends school, for example) her body weight as of this visit has reached 872 lbs."
It went on for a bit, but that number "872" kept chiming in her head. Had Honey (NO! Her name was Tom Hamilton! And she wasn't a she!) ever heard of anyone else that fat.
Then she found a folded piece of paper inside the medical papers.Inspecting it, she saw it was handwritten...and said "Hope you're enjoying your new life, Tom. Play nice with Elisa and be a good girl, and maybe I'll trim you down to a more reasonable size. Fight it...and I'll have more fun with you."
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
