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ShrubberyLogistic

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"Behold!" the angel announced in my living room. "Your blighted spirit in its true form! Tread carefully on your destined path, and do not succumb to the temptations of the tongue. Lest this..." 

 He swept his arm.  

"...become your future!" 

 His silvery robes wafted up the empty plastic packets strewn all over the floor. A cold wind made me shiver. A girl with platinum blonde plaits clutched his arm tightly, her face a picture of fear. At first I thought she looked like me - then I realised she was me. Kirsten Dwight. But from like, four or five years ago. Back when I used to work out.  

"Oh, Angel! Save me from this horrible reality!" she squealed, her fingers pasty white. "Please, don't leave!" 

 The angel left her. He clapped his hands and disappeared in a cloud of dark smoke. I coughed as I swigged my soda. Kirsten clasped the space he'd taken up in front of the TV, tremoring on the verge of tears. Her soft gasps fading to nothingness beneath the blare of the chat show I was trying to watch.  

“Mmmmppphhh,” I gulped down a mouthful of chips and flicked off the set with the remote. “What the fuck?”  

 Kirsten – my previous self, so it appeared – looked petrified. She backed away into the corner, pointing, her voice reduced to a whisper.  

“What...happened...to me?” she gasped.  

“I’m literally right in front of you,” I said, wiping my lips. “Talk to me like a normal person.” 

“No, this can’t be real!” She put her head in her hands.   

“Seriously, I'm okay,” I stressed, guzzling another salty handful. I stretched out a hand and tried to sit up a little more straight. The couch creaked beneath me, the cushions flattened from where I'd sat feasting through noon. 

“But you’re....you’re...”  

She gestured round herself, arcing her arms side to side across her stomach.  

“Fat?” I rolled my eyes, chewed and swallowed.    

Huge,” she breathed, pale and nervy.   

 I groaned, shooting her an incredulous look. Her eyes were rooted to my softly heaving stomach. With a flicker of perturbance I lifted my tight shirt, baring my thick belly rolls freely. 

"Wow," I mocked. "Never noticed...oh no...my life is over...what do I do..." 

 I gave my bulging gut a big slap. It gurgled, close to fullness. Past Kirsten winced at the noise, shrinking further into the corner. I glanced queerly at her skinny hips, her tightened thighs. I could hardly remember the last time I looked like she did. Sighing, I tugged down my shirt. The band strained around my belly button, then rode back up over my bloated belly's swell. I sighed some more. 

"I'm morbidly obese. So?" I mumbled. "Get over it. It's not the end of the world. I still have friends. I still got first class honours in my degree. Remember?" 

"You got a first in Demonology?" she said, in a low voice. 

"Hell yeah," I said, grinning. "Valedictorian too. And I scored a career out of it - I'm freelance. Granted the work's a little patchy but still, it pays the bills." I burped and crushed the empty can with my pudgy fingers, tossing it nonchalantly over my shoulder. I cracked open a fresh soda, shook back my hair and took a long glug.  

"Was it hard?" Skinny Kirsten asked, staring at the floor.  

 I nodded gently, and offered her a smile. "It was tough," I admitted. "A lot of long nights, a lot of lonely days. Don't think you'll have time to make that gym membership worth it. And if you want to eat healthy, you'll need to find yourself a second job. My wage from the campus takeout barely covered my living expenses. Had to sell the bike, the blender, a lot of old clothes...and I could barely close the robe over me when I graduated, but hey - people laughed." 

Kirsten gulped. She twiddled with her fingernails, still not meeting me in the eye. 

"I know it's kinda shocking," I said, looking down at myself. "But you sort of get used to waking up a little fatter, every day. It's easy to make adjustments - putting the car seat back, finding a bigger desk, not taking stairs, you know? Fat is heavy, you have to make a couple changes. So you're not exhausted all the time, get what I mean? Phew..."      

 I paused for breath, a case in point. My cheeks had reddened, and I realised I had found my way to the edge of my seat. My legs were straining. Grunting, I shuffled back onto the couch, letting my big breasts jostle a little. Kirsten hung on my every movement, and we were both drawn to gazing at her modest cups. Somehow we caught each other at the same time. Kirsten blushed deep red. 

"I'm an F, in case you were wondering" I said, grinning. I gave them a heft and a squeeze. "Don't think they're done growing yet, either." 

"What do you weigh?" Kirsten said suddenly.  

I shrugged my shoulders. "Dunno,"  

"Can we weigh you?" 

"Is it that important?" I raised an eyebrow. My past self looked pensive, cogs whirring in her mind.  

"Yes," she said, simply. 

"Huh. Fine," I mumbled. I staggered up off the couch. It was a focused process that look anything but focused, as I eased my jiggling weight back onto my feet. My thighs rubbed together, and my hefty stomach flopped on top. I bent forward with a sharp intake of breath and gathered my hair into a tie. My arms throbbed at the sudden onset of activity. Exhaling, I stood up again, palming the slight ache in my back. Kirsten stared wordlessly, and I led her to my bathroom.  

 Mentally, I prepped myself for the stairs, taking a firm grip on the balustrade. I swung my wide, chafing legs, thrusting my hips to counterbalance the weight in my ass. Following gingerly behind me, past Kirsten had the best seat in the house on how encumbered my bottom-heavy body had become. My stretchy pants paled from navy blue to straining teal with every step as fat slapped against fat. Loose crumbs tumbled from my haunches, the remnants of the stack of chocolate cookies I'd messily devoured before lunch. I hadn't had chance to take a shower that day and it showed, though it needn't have mattered. By time I reached the top, sweat was beading on my brow. I stopped for a deep breath. 

"Yeah, no." I shook my stomach and tried to crack a smile, giving myself a stitch in the process. "Ugghh...I should drink more water...owww...." 

 Bent double, Kirsten crossed a comforting hand over my shoulder. Her touch was icy cold. I flinched, forgetting the pain, and motioned in the direction of the bathroom. She pulled the door to, and I gave her a nod. Recovering a little energy, I waddled after her, my hip brushing the doorframe as we bundled in together.  

 With one final exhale, I retrieved the dusty scale from under the sink. There was the sound of a choirboy's aria. Another puff of smoke. The angel returned, his haloed head mere inches from the stirring ceiling fan. This time, he rose from a radiating hole in the ground. I peered through, glimpsing visions of gold and crimson light. The air filled with the searing smell of sulphur.  

"We have but little time!" he boomed. "Seek your answers, young one, before our needs necessitate our departure from this plane," 

I reached past him for the sink, and poured myself a nice cool glass of water. 

"You need to get on the scale," Kirsten insisted. "Quickly."  

"Yes!" echoed the angel. "See the weight of your sins! Confess to your gluttony, then you may join us on our righteous journey to heaven through that saintly portal of holy light next to your feet...errr...there." 

 Kirsten bit her lip. I chugged the water, and gave my aching tummy a gentle rub. I set down the scale and adjusted my pants, freeing the soft skin from where my underwear was biting in. I clicked the button and the menu lit up. I dabbed the reset button with my slipper, then stepped on. The numbers racketed up rapidly. 

"Oooh. Two hundred and eighty-one pounds," I recorded, my eyebrows raised in surprise. "That’s kinda high. Though it's a big t-shirt I'm wearing. And a bra underneath. Call it two seventy-nine."   

"Oh god, how much will I gain?" Kirsten panicked. 

 I gave her elevator eyes. My previous self was slender, even toned around her arms and shoulders, bare in her black halter top. Her hips were bony, her butt was firm and cute. Her face was striking, angular, her cheekbones high, her waist well placed. Her belly was nondescript, nonexistent, nothing like the bouncing barrel I was strapped to.  

"Only one way to find out" I said, thrusting my stomach back under my t-shirt with a curse under my breath. "You step on." 

 Kirsten timidly planted her trainers on the scale's smooth glass face. The red numbers buzzed and flashed. I leaned over for a closer look. 

"666" I read from the screen. "Hmmm." 

 The girl, who couldn't have been any more than a hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet, was frozen on the spot. Her lips were unmoving. Slowly she raised her head, catching sight of herself in the mirror. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing would come.  

"That's...interesting," said the angel. "But without further ado, you must step through the -" 

 I groaned, then snatched and yanked on one of Kirsten's plaits. Her whole hairpiece came away, striking the floor and bursting into ashes. Two black horns emerged beneath. 

"Nice try," I exclaimed, with a wink. "But I think I would've remembered this if it really happened to me. Also, French plaits? Not my style, never has been." 

"Good god - an imposter!" yelled the angel. "Saints save me! Heaven is compromised, I will return forthwith! Kirsten - we must flee this house! Before this soul-stealer takes - " 

"Oh, shut up," the demon spat. In a haze of red his claws raked through the air, taking hold of the angel's face. With a gruesome rip his pale features were torn away, leaving redness and raging eyes. I took stock of his expression with placid glee. The face was not pained. It was angry. 

"Adipus, you swine!" the second demon bellowed, seizing the first by the scruff of his scraggly beard. "We're finished. You've ruined our plan!" 

"What plan, Lipidio? You'd never have shared her with me." He kicked himself free. His fellow's costume - wings and halo - slipped off his jagged back and fell forgotten on my bathroom floor. The punch came too quick for me to see. Black blood sprinkled the shower curtain.  

"There's plenty of her to go around!" said Lipidio."Kirsten, precious. Join me in hell - be my guest!" He beckoned to me in his white dress. "Don't you want to see what the other deadly sins taste like?" 
"Yeah, starting with wrath!" Adipus yelled. He tore off his halter top and leapt on his brethren's shoulders, plug chain in hand, and wrapped it tight around his neck. The taller of the two scrabbled in crackling air, choking and wheezing. He stretched out a weakening leg and tried to pivot, but lost his balance. The two of them careened into the bathtub with a mighty thwack.   

"Be right back," I said to no-one, backing away slowly. "Just gonna check the oven...you guys just wait right there..." 

 I slipped through as gracefully as I could and sealed the outward swinging door behind me. Sliding down, I blew the hair away from my face, crossed my legs, and kept my body weight firmly pressed against the woodwork while I fished in my pocket. Gently, I teased my little book of exorcist rites out from the tight material. The door rattled as the twosome locked horns, thundering back and forth, squealing and swearing. Elbows planted on my stomach, I thumbed through the pages until I found the line of the charm I wanted.  

"W-what?" shouted Lipidio. "Where is it?" 

"Stop blathering, what are you on about?" said Adipus.  

"The portal. It's gone!" 

 There was a pregnant pause. Then one of them tried the handle. Then the lock. Then the handle again. He rattled it furiously. 

"Let us out!" they cried in unison. 

 I giggled as they grew increasingly desperate, pawing through the pages for a curse to bind a feuding pair of hell-dwellers to my will. They pushed back to the toilet, preparing to charge. I leant back a little more against the door, spread my legs, undid my zipper, and puffed out my stomach to its full girth with a sigh of satisfaction, letting it crest on the carpet. The door quaked. Two demons groaned in bruised agony on one side, while my body shook and rippled softly on the other, from my knees to my double chin. I smiled, strangely proud of myself. 

 "I've got maple syrup," I called out behind me, as my belly gurgled. "Who's good at making pancakes?"     
 

 

 

 

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