You were always a stud. A downright jock. A real golden boy - flaxen hair, toned muscles, a good head on your shoulders, plenty of sense. A promising future. A promising life.

-

You eat a little more, pushing yourself further. Something dully flickers in the back of your mind as you belch, having another bite to eat as you mindlessly flick through the television. You had plenty of pizza to go with the cheesy Sci-Fi binge, and a burger or twelve for the Crime Show marathon. You leave back in the couch - that is the couch, right? - as you continue your munching, eyes focused on the screen…

-

But, somewhere along the way, you got lost. Maybe it was after college. Maybe it was with the new job and it’s work-from-home schedule. Maybe it was it was your metabolism giving out as you got older. Maybe it was that damned injury.

-

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, wincing. Yeah… that old injury hindered your mobility an awful lot. That had to be why you hardly left the house - did you leave at all? - or got up from your seat all that often. You stifled another impressive belch, huffing as you reached for one of the spare snack pies you kept stashed on the end table, digging through an overstocked, half-empty pile of snacks to reach it…

-

What happened then? Something came of all this… don’t you remember? Remember how your muscles became less and less defined? How your form became less and less impressive - how your gym visits became virtually nonexistent, and how all those delightful fast food apps simply… appeared on your phone…

-

Ah, yes, the apps, you thought as you dug out your old, cracked phone, mouth watering as the logos lit up the screen, and your great, half-lidded eyes. You had to have installed them at some point, maybe when you were at that lovely visit with… what was his name… Your new friend - or was he an old friend, now? How long ago was that? Your stomach growled. Who cares - you’ll remember the details after you get some food in you…

-

What else changed? Why, your new friend, of course - he never commented on that thing that changed, that dreadful thing that you so desperately want to avoid. At least, he never commented negatively… perhaps he liked it even. Maybe he encouraged you… Maybe he liked what you were becoming…

-

Becoming? What were you becoming? You huffed, brushing crumbs off of your lap tray - wait, no, that was your chest… your soft, yielding, expansive… Oh, a message! Why look, it’s that friend of yours… he… he sent you another gift. Some more money - that was so nice of him! Oh… and… food. It would be there soon. A red light flickered by the TV. The little camera stared back at you - and you knew your friend was behind it. W-why did he have that camera again? When did it… Oh! The food was here…

-

I wonder… can you even think of it? Can you even see what’s before your very eyes? Probably not. It’s far too late for a wakeup call. Awareness may be far more of a curse than a blessing. Perhaps its good that you forgot about the change. Certainly keeps you fat and happy.

-

Wait… Fat? Since when were you - The dull buzzing of the delivery drone filled the air as it soared in through the window, plopping the overstuffed bags of greasy, fatty fast food on the great, heaving pillow in your lap. Wait… Since when did pillows heave? Was there something under it making it vibrate? Or move in some way? You knew your friend helped you get this pillow… maybe it had some fancy feature he forgot to mention….? No, that wasn’t right because it wasn’t a-

-

Getting close, are we? Those shields of denial can only last so long, you poor, sweet thing… It was kind of your “friend” to make sure that the delivery places only sent drones. It made the chances of complications and crises like the one you’re on the verge of far less likely. C’mon now, big boy… Eat it up, you know you want to…

-

Your mouth waters as you look at the bags… but something stirs in you… You need to know what’s wrong with that pillow… You huff as you exert yourself - man, you really needed to get back to the gym - it hadn’t been that long, had it? - moving the greasy bags to the side, as you place a hand on the soft, hefty pillow. Well, one of the pillows, there were several, but they all had that peculiar motion. It feels soft, fluffy… and warm. Why did it…?

-

Oh look. You’re in danger of getting it. Don’t you remember? The slow shrinking of your wardrobe… the increasing frequency of these delicious, fatty meals… the endless gifts heaped upon you, ones that you so gleefully accepted… and that soft, swelling thing on your middle… First, a starter belly… then a beer gut… then a soft, obese mound… then, from there…

-

Your eyes widened in horror and recognition - that wasn’t a pillow… That was you. That was your huge, fat stomach - or, one part of it, perhaps the south-west roll. It was larger than the last time you’d been awake like this. Much larger. You remember when your stupor would break once a day- but now… How long had it been since you were aware? Aware of how soft, and fat, and huge you’d become? Could you still stand that last time? Even manage a brisk 10-minute waddle to the fridge? Were you still using a real couch then, or had it been your soft, padded ass for alllll that time…?

“H-How did I - H - How did this… Happen? Oh- oh God… this is my life - H- How do I fix - H-How do I… I-I’m HUNGRY…”

-

You needed to change. You needed to fix this. You needed to go back. But, you wouldn’t. You feel it don’t you? This brief respite fading - fading fast, isn’t it? My, you couldn’t think straight for more than a minute, could you… it won’t be long before you’re unable to think straight at all, over that hungry, heaving gut of yours… Go back to sleep, you pathetic, pudgy thing… Go back to sleep, and further your swelling…

-

Your eyes became lidded, heavily, as those discordant thoughts faded from your mind, your eyes slowly glancing back to the TV, and seeing a special alert for a Horror Marathon on Channel 43… Automatically, your arms reached for the greasy bags next to you, your stomach growling like a furnace as you opened your tired, heavy jaws…

—-

I don’t often draw blobs for personal pieces, but, what can I say - the mood struck me… I had a lot of fun playing around with the writing style for this description, and I’m most happy with the themes of denial I wove throughout - I think it really adds to this doughballs’ damning situation in the most pleasant of ways…~

I hope you all enjoy this fat lump of a fox as much as I did making him, haha!