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"Just so I'm clear," Dee asked incredulously, taking a large bite of a sandwich as she talked, "you guys don't actually think that things are going to come alive because you're spending the night in a museum, right?"
"I'm sorry," Dennis replied, "but we're simply opening ourselves up to the possibility of an amazing adventure this evening. Is there something wrong with that? Now, whether that means Charlie running into his ancient spirits or us having to just, you know, run away from security guards all night - Either way, it's gonna be a really, really great time. It's certainly gonna be a lot better than sticking around the bar all night watching you eat sandwich after sandwich after sandwich."
"What the hell is the matter with you?" Frank interjected, "You've been stuffing your face for days."
"It's fatness, Frank, plain and simple," Dennis said, "It's a person becoming fat before your eyes."
"I don't even really know how to make the bird jokes anymore," Charlie added, "Like, they don't apply."
"I'm not fat!" Dee exclaimed.
"I feel like you say that all the time now," Mac said.
"Well I'm not!"
"Wait a second. You've definitely said that before. You're right," Charlie said.
"Yeah," Mac said, hefting his bag as he moved towards the bar's front door, "and since we're all saying things that we say all the time, I'll just reiterate - Dee, we don't care about you or your body or your diet or your fatness." He disappeared past the bar's threshold.
"Right, right," Dennis chuckled. He turned to fix Dee with a look as he stepped outside, his voice suddenly turning cold as his smile vanished, "We really, really don't though."
"She looks like an ostrich maybe," Charlie suggested, following his friends to Dennis' car.
Frank grinned. "You are a big, fat, flightless bird!" he exclaimed as he left, the door swinging shut behind him.
Now alone, Dee put her free hand on her burgeoning potbelly as she stuffed the final bite of her sandwich in her mouth, all too aware of the weight she'd gained. "God dammit," she said.
Of course, Dee would never admit that she was getting fat, least of all to the gang. They were nothing but mean to her, constantly calling her bird this and bird that, all because of some comparison one of them had made to a basketball player over a decade ago. She could only imagine what would happen if they had some actual ammunition, which is exactly what owning up to her weight gain would give them.
Not that she was even really gaining weight to begin with. The little ball of a gut that hung over her lap wasn't a contradiction, it was just temporary. She must have been retaining water or something, surely this wouldn't go any further than it already had. The guys would never even notice, and she'd be right back to her slim usual self.
"Tapeworm," Frank stated simply.
"No!" Dennis replied, clearly exasperated, "No, no, no! I will not have any disgusting worms anywhere near me. No, crack is the way to go here."
"I still think laxatives could work," Mac chimed in.
"Laxatives?" Dennis said, turning towards Mac, "You want her to poop the fatness out?"
"Well, yeah," Mac said.
"Charlie would have to clean that up you know. Charlie?" Dennis called to where Charlie was seated at the other end of the room, "How do you feel about unclogging every toilet in the bar?"
"Well I mean, I do love my work," Charlie said with a grin.
"Dee would be the one clogging them," Frank pointed out.
Charlie's smile turned into a look of disgust.
"Well then there you have it," Dennis said, "Clearly getting her back on crack is the only way to fix this problem."
"Oh or meth," Mac suggested.
"Meth could work," said Frank.
"Yes or meth, okay," Dennis relented, "Meth or crack, either way, but can we please do one of them soon? And I mean soon because if I have to look at that fat gut one minute longer I'll-"
"Hey guys," Dee said, sauntering over to them, a sliver of her chubby belly visible as her too-small shirt rode up her torso. "What're you talking about?"
"Ugh, nothing, nothing," Dennis answered dismissively, "Don't you have some food you should be stuffing your face with or something?"
"I mean I do have a box of donuts in the car, but-"
"Oh good," Dennis said sarcastically, "Go get them."
"Well I was going to save them for later-"
"Go!" Mac, Frank, and Dennis shouted in unison.
"Okay, okay!" Dee said, the wobble in her growing butt clearly visible as she headed back out the door.
The three watched her go with frowns plastered on their faces.
"I've got a meth guy," Frank said the second the door swung shut.
Okay, so her weight might have gotten a little bit out of control. About 50 pounds worth of out of control.
It was fine though, Dee rationalized, after all she was honestly too skinny before - hence all the bird insults, right? Maybe gaining a few curves would be a good thing, add to her "womanly figure" or whatever. Artemis was a larger lady and she certainly was successful enough with men, admittedly not the type of men Dee typically wanted to attract, but that was probably more to do with Artemis's personality than her body type.
She was still hot, she could still pull this off. She just had to stop gaining now and the gang wouldn't have any reason to interfere. Maybe they'd even treat her a little better, now that she looked so much more feminine.
"This is adderall Frank," Dennis said with barely contained rage, "Adderall is for college students and hyperactive children, not sisters who are rapidly becoming blimp shaped and making me watch it happen!"
Frank shrugged, "So my meth guy turned out to be an adderall guy. Its still good stuff, here look," Frank grabbed a pill and downed it.
"Stop doing the drugs!" Dennis exclaimed, "I do not care about your fatness, you're a lost cause! Its Dee that needs to lose weight!"
"I don't need to lose weight," Dee said from the other side of the bar, where she was currently eating a large burger, grease and sauce smeared on her chin.
"You're disgusting," Mac replied, as he watched her eat.
"No you're urp," Dee paused to belch, "disgusting."
"No, seriously," Mac said, "You have become very very gross."
"Yeah," Charlie chimed in, appearing from the basement clutching his rat stick, both it and him clearly splattered with what was presumably rat's blood, "I can't imagine being you."
"Mac gained like way more weight than me," Dee said defensively.
"I tacked on mass!" Mac yelled.
"What's important is that he lost that weight," Dennis said, as he turned to face Dee. "Which is what I'm trying to help you with too."
"Maybe I don't want to lose weight," Dee said.
"Why on Earth would you not want to lose weight?" Frank chuckled.
"Well I have curves now," she said.
"You have curves now?" Dennis repeated back to her in an icy tone.
"Yeah," Dee continued, "Its not 2001 anymore, people appreciate a little junk in the trunk you know?"
"Junk in the trunk, Dee?" Dennis asked slowly, "People like Kim Kardashian. People like thick thighs and wide hips and big asses. What people don't like is beer bellies that flop over your pants, and wobbly flabby arms, and fat faces with double chins hanging off of them, which is what you have!"
"You guys are just jealous that I'm hot now," Dee said dismissively, shoving the last of her burger into her mouth. She pushed herself off the stool she'd been sitting on with a grunt, the impact sending her belly jiggling. "Try having some body positivity for a change."
The scale read 208 pounds, 84 pounds heavier than she used to be, and, much more importantly, also 8 pounds heavier than Mac used to be.
This was bad. Her weight gain hadn't slowed a bit, probably because she'd only gotten more gluttonous as she grew, but now she was out of excuses to give the gang (or herself) about how she wasn't really fat.
Honestly only the former really bothered Dee. Maybe it was just because she'd been so beaten down about her former appearance, but she didn't find herself disliking fat Dee, at least not any more than she'd disliked the thin version. Some small non-deluded part of her mind knew Dennis was largely right, the weight had settled in less-than-flattering places: A flabby yet spherical gut, love handles wider than her actual hips, puffy cheeks and a fatty chin, arms that made the sleeves on all of her shirts skintight. But her boobs were also up a cup size, and regardless of what everyone else said she knew she was filling these jeans out better than she used to.
In her eyes at least she looked fine, even if her clothes were clearly too small on her now larger figure, and more importantly she didn't want to change her eating habits. The guys bullied her regardless, let them say what they would.
"Have you considered that Sweet Dee might just like getting fat?" Artemis asked, as she picked salad ingredients out of her hair.
"What, like your food fetish... thing?" Mac said, clearly disgusted. "Speaking of which, could you two stop doing that in here?"
"Hey I'm not trying to get fat," Frank said, nibbling on the scraps Artemis was handing him. "This is a low carb salad."
"You are already fat," Mac pointed out.
"Oh like you didn't love being 200 pounds," Frank shot back. "As I recall, Dennis had to drug you to get you to slim back down."
"That was pure muscle mass and you know it!" Mac yelled.
"Boys, boys," Artemis interjected, "While Deandra may have taken a few pointers from our obviously brilliant lovemaking ideas here that is not what I am referring to. Dennis knows what I mean."
"If you're talking about feedism then yes, I am aware of it," Dennis said, "But I refuse to discuss my sister's probably bizarre and disturbing kinks, especially when they pertain to her fatness."
"Feedism?" Mac asked, glancing between Artemis and Dennis to try to discern what he was missing, "Do you guys know something about this?"
"I am a very sexual and erotic man," Dennis replied, "Of course I know of many kinks and fetishes."
"And I may have heard it from a little birdie that Sweet Dee doesn't actually mind her newfound weight as much as you all would like her to," Artemis added, "I put two and two together and, well, what kind of a person would like getting fatter?"
Everyone else made a look of disgust at the thought.
"Something must be done," Frank said.
"Jesus Christ Dee," Dennis said as he walked into her apartment, the rest of the gang in tow.
"What?" Dee asked through a mouthful of the cake she was shoving in her face, grabbing handfuls of it with one hand while she sat on the couch and used her laptop with the other.
"Ugh," Mac groaned, as he caught view of Dee's cake stained face. "Artemis was right, wasn't she?"
"Artemis?" Dee asked, finally gulping down her food.
"Like you don't know," Frank said, the next to enter the room.
"Know what?" Dee said, genuinely confused.
"Hah!" Charlie exclaimed, "You're lying!"
"You don't even know why we're here," Dennis said, turning to address Charlie.
"No, I don't," Charlie admitted.
"Just stay out of it," Mac said as he attempted to shoo Charlie back out the door.
Dennis brought his attention back to Dee, where she'd taken the opportunity to drag another chunk of cake. "You are lying though!" he declared halfheartedly, visibly deflating towards the end of the sentence. "God dammit Charlie, you ruined it."
"Ruined?" Dee asked again, spewing crumbs of chocolate as she talked.
"We had this whole plan to confront you," Mac explained, "Dennis was going to accuse you of lying, then I'd force you to admit that you're getting fat on purpose, and well, Frank and Charlie just kind of wanted to come with. We figured it all out in the car on the way over here."
"I'm not getting fat on purpose," Dee insisted.
"You're eating an entire cake with your hands," Frank pointed out.
"Look, Dee, Artemis told us okay," Dennis said, "We know you're into feedism."
"What's feedism?" Dee asked.
The guys all shared a look.
"You mean to tell me that you're sitting here, eating a cake with your bare hands, and you're not getting off to it?" Dennis asked, incredulously.
"Well the forks were all dirty, so..." Dee replied, through yet another helping of cake she'd scooped into her mouth.
Everyone else groaned.
"That's it," Dennis announced, throwing his hands up in resignation. "She's a lost cause. Get as fat as you like Dee, I give up."
"I mean, okay," Dee mumbled, indifferent.
She hadn't been lying when she said she was eating like that from sheer laziness. It wasn't so much that Dee wanted to be fat as it was that being thin had never done her any favors either, so why worry about it? And now with the guys formally off her case about it, well she certainly wasn't going to quit after a victory like that.
Still, their accusations did make her think. Taking the less cake covered of her hands, she typed into her laptop's browser 'feedism', her eyebrows raising at what she saw.
Maybe Artemis was right after all...
Free of any interference and with newfound enthusiasm for it, Dee's weight began to skyrocket like never before. Her gut rose like proofing dough, a gelatinous sphere of flab that continued to make her look pregnant like her little starter potbelly once had, only now she appeared to be overdue with triplets, its wobbling softness all that betrayed the illusion. That and, perhaps, the rest of her figure, which was equally inflated. She had a full double chin now with the beginnings of a third, and round cheeks that were rapidly becoming jowls. Her arms were twice as large around as they used to be, hanging fat slapping against her sides any time she moved. She had rolls on her back, and love handles that added a full foot to her measurements. As Dennis had predicted, the more conventionally attractive parts of her body had gained the least, her breasts now dwarfed by her belly and drooping heavily to the sides unless wrangled into a bra, and her entire lower half looked downright skinny in comparison. It wasn't actually thin, of course, but her ass remained flat, growing more horizontally than rounding out, and though her thighs did become encased in cellulite marbled fat that chafed against themselves when she could be bothered to actually get up and walk, they were completely buried under her gut whenever she sat, her lap essentially completely consumed.
She was, as the gang so often reminded her, not exactly conventionally attractive. Her gut entered a room well before her lumbering steps could get her there, and her clothes rarely covered it completely, as she outgrew her shirts at a rapid pace and could hardly see what was going on on the underside of her belly anyway.
But she'd also been correct: If they were to be believed she was ugly when she was skinny too, so what difference did it make? Plus, that was before she discovered that she was turned on by getting very, very fat.
Dee couldn’t exactly see the number on the scale anymore past her ball of a gut, but she knew she had to be well over 300 pounds now, maybe even approaching 400, not that it mattered to her. For the first time in her life she’d found something that made her feel good about herself. If gaining weight was the key to happiness, then she was just getting started.