It started in the bathroom. The HUNGER that she would only later really understand.
She was in the shower - trying to scrub her huge, soft body clean - hating yet also facinated by her bouncy, jiggly fat rolls - when her belly began to twinge. Just a slight gurgle that gave her pause, yet also seemed sharp and urgent. She ignored it. After all, even if she WAS this fat now...she'd lose it somehow. Dieting and excersize had worked wonders for others, and if that didn't do the trick...there was always stomach stapling and liposuction...
Another twinge. A more painful one. She rinced soap out of her eyes, and heard her father asking "Honey, did you have anything to eat yet?"
"No, dad...but I'm fine. I'm going to start a diet today. Trust me, in a month..."
"Don't even think of it, sweetie..." her father said sternly. "...because we all know what happens then. Your body needs an almost constant influx of carbs and sugers for your system to work properly, now that it's been damaged by Mataba-Max. Without them, your organs will start shutting down, and you'll die. Just...just don't do it, punkin. We love you...and we'd rather have you like this then not at all."
Sarah turned off the shower, and wrapped a beach towel around her upperbody. She stuck her head out of the shower and asked "How is that even possible? I mean...what about when I sleep?"
"Your alarm is set to wake you at 3 o'clock every night, so you can eat the snack we leave in your bedroom fridge. Also, the "glucose patches" that we put over your kidneys before you go to sleep. Honey, you KNOW this. We've been doing this for over two years now."
She looked down and saw a pair of stickey rectangles - the glucose patches - on the floor of the shower. She'd thought they were large bandaids or something. The twinge again. Her stomach made another growl...this one loud and urgent. Sarah moaned and clutched her belly. Her father set down a box of chocolets and a box of donuts on her vanity table, along with a pitcher of milk and a glass. "Just eat, honey. Keep up your strength till breakfast. And make sure to bring your snack bag to school. Thank goodness we were able to get that special injunction pushd through so you can eat in class."
She waddled out of her room (no longer on the second floor, but rather in the gound room that was once dads study) dressed well for such a fat chick, but still missing her old wardrobe. Once you hit her size, the cute tops and miniskirts were out of the picture. And she now owned no shoes that were not flats. Still, the Brown Flare ankle-length skirt was expensive, and it went with the loose Faux Denim Embroidered Top. With her long, vibrant blond hair...she looked somewhat reserved, but still kind of cute. Her makeup was perfect, and she'd plucked her brows..
...but all the while she'd been eating. The chocoletes and donuts - washed down with the cold milk - had settled her stomach, if not filled it. Then once at the breakfat table, her mother set a plate of three cheese and ham omelets on it. Sarah thought it was too much, but once she started..
Sarah couldn't believe it! Six FUCKING Omlets! She'd eaten six...and felt she could have eaten more if not for her self control. And here she was again, sitting in the back seat of her mothers car - her huge breasts bouncing and wobbling whenever her mother hit a bump - and already eating a snack cake from the bag her mother had given her. It was crammed with cakes, candybars, salty chips and pretzels, slim jims and tones of other things she'd never have eaten before...but which she CRAVED right at this momant.
What could she expect at school. She nolonger had much faith that this was a dream. So...what about her friends. She knew she wasn't a cheerleader anymore, and that she had a perpetual "Note from home" that kept her out of Gym class. She also noticed that her third period was now a Cooking class. That was insane, as she'd never even boiled an egg or made anything she didn't just toss into a microwave and nuke for two minutes. What about her friends? What about Biff?
This was her life now...but how? Everyone elses memories seemed to be different from hers, at least over the last three years. Would Biff still be her boyfriend? Would her best friends at least be nice to her? If this all was the result of that Mataba-Whatever drug, then none of this was her fault. Not really. Surely her friends would understand and cut her a little slack.
She hoped...
