You sat on the couch for a while, staring at the ceiling. You need to change something. This life you were given is crap. Pure crap. The only thing it had going for it was that Jared didn’t really have to worry about anything. He was free from inhibitions and shame and absolutely anything. His world revolved around Jared and Jared alone. If you want to, you could spend the days from now on just sitting around, drinking milk out of the carton, eating ice cream for dinner, and burping so loud your neighbors go deaf.
“...Wait,” you mumble as your eyes widen.
It’s perfect. Jared has your old job, your old friends, your old everything. He’s essentially keeping your old life warm for you. You could spend as long as you want being a manchild stoner and then swap back with him when you were ready to become the old you again. The old you didn’t have a vacation for two years. Now, you basically have an endless vacation from literally everything.
You think of everything you weren’t allowed to do in your old life. Couldn’t grow a beard, because Travis hates beards. Couldn’t get a tattoo, because your parents would have a heart attack. Couldn’t eat fast food, because your metabolism is shit and everyone around you made sure you noticed every pound you gained.
You rub your tummy. A little flabby. Nothing huge, but something that Travis clearly wished was flatter. You jiggle it a bit. It causes your chest to move a little. You think about everything you can do now and how you don’t have to worry about anything ever again. And with that, you decide to just became a slob inside and out.
You head over to your dirty bathroom mirror. Your hair is long, your nose is crooked, and your clothes smell of weed. You squint at yourself. You already can barely recognize the man staring back at you, but it’s time to make him absolutely unrecognizable. And it doesn’t take too long for your eyes to go back to your little, flabby gut.
“Fuck it.”
You do a quick search online for fat guys. It doesn’t take too long for you to find a pic of a guy on, oddly enough, Jared’s old-slash-your new Facebook. Your new memories tell you that Jared-slash-you went to high school with him. He is probably one hundred pounds heavier than you, with most of the weight in his gut and chest. This man looks like he doesn’t care what he eats or when he eats. His short beard is trying to create a jawline that might have been there when he was younger, but now is mostly just a circle.
You can’t wait any longer. You stare at that man’s gut and kiss the ring.
You hear a loud ripping sound. A tear forms in your underwear as you feel your butt get a little bigger. You shift your weight a bit and almost fall down on the spot as your center of gravity shifts.
Your ratty tank top almost strangles you as your entire body expands. Your flabby stomach pushes its way toward the sink and presses against it. You can feel yourself getting heavier as the seconds fly by. Every second, another pound shifted from the guy in the photo’s body to yours. Your tank top starts to ride up your stomach as it billows outward.
You watch as your chest slips out from the straps of your tank top. Both pecs go in the opposite direction as they soften and grow into full-on man boobs. Your nipples widen from the size of dimes to quarters to half-dollars. Your stick arms also expand, giving you what might have been biceps at one point, but are now massive, flappy logs of fat. You move your arms to take a look and it’s much, much harder than it used to be to move them. The flab on the biceps vibrates as you get yourself a nice pair of bingo wings.
Your sweatpants tighten and you do your best to loosen them as your hips widen. As you undo the string, you realize something else is happening too. Your pant legs used to cover your ankles. Now, you can see them. Your legs aren’t just getting wider, they’re getting longer. Your face darts back to the mirror as you see yourself expanding in every direction. As your stomach presses up against the sink, you shoot up another inch. And then another. Your stomach stops pressing agains the sink as you get tall enough for it to simply rest over it. And then another inch comes your way. Your arms get longer and longer. Your tank top now looks more like a sports bra. Your entire stomach is hanging out for you to see as you continue to grow.
You’re absolutely flabbergasted. You take a glance at the photo on your phone. To your absolute shock, not only is the man much thinner now, he’s significantly shorter. You couldn’t tell just how tall he was from the photo, but if that man is now 5’8”, you must be on your way to at least 6’5”. You continue to grow as your stomach keeps expanding. You feel so ungodly heavy now. He must have been significantly more than just a hundred pounds heavier. He carried it super well, but you’ve got a feeling you’re well over 300 pounds at this point.
Your face and neck mold together as weight keeps piling on and your head gets closer to the ceiling. You couldn’t see it, because of the man’s beard, but he must have had one hell of a double chin. Now you know you need to grow a beard, because there’s no way anyone will know where your face ends and rest of your body begins. Your jawline is gone and instead your face is just a soft, flabby circle.
Suddenly, it stops. You are standing in front of the mirror, significantly heavier and taller. You stare at yourself, open mouthed. You must be almost a foot taller. You worry that you will now have to duck to shower, but then you remember that showering is for the old you. You see a ratty scale next to the toilet and step on it. Your eyes almost jump out of your head when you see it reads 400 pounds.
You walk toward the kitchen in a trance-like state. 400 pounds. Somewhere around 6’8”. All that, plus the broken nose and the new hair, turned you into a completely different person. You barely notice as you open the fridge door and pull out a six-pack of beer, or when you open the freezer to grab a carton of chocolate ice cream. You sit down on the cold, dirty floor and lean against the fridge. Your stomach spills down your lap. Your massive legs seem to go across the entire kitchen. And as you marvel at the new you, you open the ice cream and a can of beer. You start to shovel the ice cream into your massive mouth, not caring that little droplets of chocolate fall onto your heaving moobs. You cast aside the ice cream for a second to chug the beer, still not caring as the frothy liquid leaves a dark, damp patch on your “shirt.”
You keep at it. When you finish with the beer, you toss the can in a random direction and open another. You keep shoveling the ice cream into your mouth and then find another tub to replace it once it’s empty. You keep at it. Your face is filthy. And as your vision blurs and you get extremely sleepy, you let out a massive burp that make your entire body jiggle. You pass out onto the floor. Drunk, covered in chocolate and booze, and looking like an absolute mess.