Josh, tired and frustrated with the turbulent path of life he’s so long been on, leaves his apartment on a Fall night to clear his head. The warm air of Summer has taken a more crisp, cool flow, gliding through Josh’s hair as he walks down the same street he drives past everyday on the way home. His lungs breath a refreshing air, and Josh is easily able to forget the burdens of college life for at least a moment. He walks alone, his path only illuminated by streetlights. By now, about 11:30, many stores have closed save for some convenience stores and gas stations. Josh, without much waiting for him back home, decides that a midnight snack could lift his spirits a bit. Fortunately for him, this thought came to mind just as he was walking past a donut shop, with a display riddled with puffy, baked delights spanning the store’s side wall, where the register was. Feeling his cravings deep down, Josh enters the shop.
Inside, the warm air of a bakery carried the smell of fresh donuts right to Josh’s nose, breathing deep the sweet scent. At the register stood a young girl, about Josh’s age, who promptly asked, “What would you like?” Josh, slightly overwhelmed by the number of different options, simply requested a chocolate donut. With dutiful efficiency, she retrieved a donut, bagged it, handed it to Josh and put his money in the register as soon as he had it out. Though Josh didn’t immediately think much of her automatic handling of his purchase, he could learn to appreciate her speed with time. He walked over to a table and sat down, taking slow bites of his donut.
It seemed that as soon as he sat down, two police officers walked in the door, chatting with each other. They both ordered their individual donuts easily, as if this is a nightly affair. The second officer, who had the beginnings of a belly pushing against his shirt happened to receive a free creme donut. Walking towards Josh, the second officer mentioned that he was trying to take in fewer calories, and the first declined any offer of this extra donut. With nowhere to put it without wasting, the officer placed the donut before Josh, joking, “Why don’t you get some meat on those bones, huh?” They walked over to a separate table, leaving Josh with the creme donut. Though Josh wasn’t hungry anymore, something deep down demanded that donut. He felt an overwhelming need to eat the donut. Without hesitation, Josh picked up the donut and took a bite.
Powdered sugar stuck to his fingers, and the sweet, smooth vanilla creme inside awakened a strange feeling in Josh. A feeling as though Josh had eaten this donut every day for the past decade. Something felt so very familiar to Josh about this donut, and he felt as if this donut was inseparable from his life – something so long a part of him that he would be lost without it. Josh then relished in another bite. Distracted by flavor and new memories of this donut, Josh didn’t feel his pants tighten around his thighs, which were becoming very plump. His shallow stomach grew, a soft belly pouring onto his lap. With a third bite, Josh’s chest grew fat moobs, and his arms bulged under his sleeves; his fingers grew thick and sausage-like. With the next bite, Josh suddenly felt drawn to the cops sitting a few feet away. As his neck grew out into a thick double-chin, he felt like he could relate to those cops. Another bite left half of the donut eaten, and Josh’s hairline receded significantly. His face wrinkled around his eyes and mouth; his throat seemed to tighten for a moment while his voice dropped to a mature baritone with a bit of gravel in his speech. Josh cleared his throat and realized how different his voice had become, but he stopped himself before panicking; Joe had always sounded like that. Then something else seemed off, Joe doubted his own name, but then he realized how silly he was being. His belly continued to bloat, love-handles wrapping around his torso. His ass bulged out wide, straining his pants. As Joe’s tight clothes shifted, becoming an extra large police uniform, he recounted his 26 years on the force. Seeing his uniform seemed to then remind Joe of his former recruits. He couldn’t tell why he didn’t sit with Dan and Larry, but he finished his donut and went up to the front. He purchased two more creme donuts and a coffee. When he pulled out his wallet to pay, he noticed his driver’s license: Joseph P. Miller. He also fixated on his age 48. Without another thought, he paid for his food, put away his wallet, and walked over to Dan and Larry. “Hey, Joe! Slow night?”
“Eh, slow works for me, but maybe a little excitement’d be nice,” Joe replied so easily in his rough voice, which now seemed so familiar. He rapidly downed an entire donut and licked his fingers clean of the powdered sugar. Larry teased Joe when he saw him eating so much,
“Hey, maybe lay off the donuts every so often?” He prodded Joe’s jiggly love-handles, and Joe pointed to Larry’s little gut,
“Oh come on! At this rate, you’ll be as big as me next year.”
“Sure, pops.” Dan broke the teasing and suggested that they get moving. They threw away their trash and Joe inhaled his last donut, chasing it with a hot swig of coffee. They exited into the cool night, still warm with donuts and coffee.