Work Text:
"No, please--"
My plea is cut short as my mouth is stuffed with another cheap, sugary pastry from the campus vending machine.
"Shhh. Don't talk, just type," whispers the voice from over my shoulder. It sounds sweet, like caramel oozing into my mind, making it hard for me to think.
I manage to chew and swallow, then reach for the water bottle at the far corner of my desk and take a grateful swig of it -- and nearly choke on rich heavy cream.
"How?--" I start to swivel my chair around, but only manage a few degrees before some invisible hands stop me and turn me back to my work. There's usually no one else in the campus library at this hour, which is one of the reasons I like working here. It's quiet, and peaceful, and I can concentrate.
Usually.
---
Ten minutes earlier.
Finals week has made campus even emptier than usual, and I had wanted to take advantage of that by working on all my final projects in peace, here, rather than at home, since my family wasn't great at letting me focus, either.
I look from side to side, and realize that it's become dark all around me. The light over my head is the only one still lit, and the desktop computer I'm working at is still buzzing in front of me with my final assignment open.
And in front of the keyboard is a packet of chips. I don't remember buying it, but this week and the whole end of my first year here has been such a blur that I figure I must have just forgotten.
I snack through the bag, often dusting my fingers off to type, and set the bag aside once it's empty. I write a few more lines, and look down as my arm brushes against something on the desk - and notice another, larger, bag of chips in front of me, already open and inviting. I'm confused again but caught up in my work, so I don't question it. I keep working, and keep eating.
---
Back to now.
Huh. I'm thirsty. I reach for my water bottle and find it already in my hand -- at my mouth -- and the heavy cream inside it is spilling into me. How long had I been drinking for?
I pull the bottle away from my mouth, gasping, as I realize it hadn't been getting lighter -- like no matter how long I sucked on it, it would never be empty.
I'm starting to feel worried.
I'll come back tomorrow, I think to myself, shuddering a little.
I save my work. I brace my feet against the floor and push my chair back, intending to leave, but my feet won't leave the floor, as if someone were holding them in place. My legs extend awkwardly in front of me as I grab the arms of the office chair, trying not to slide off as it rolls behind me with the momentum of my push.
In a split second, though, I feel the chair stop moving. It gently rolls back toward the desk, and again, I can't see anyone doing it.
A gurgle at the level of my hands catches my attention, and I glance down toward my stomach -- and the slight rounding there catches me by surprise. That never happens, because I never let it. I eat until I'm not hungry, never until I'm full. I almost got into this school on an athletic scholarship before a better academic scholarship came through, and my physique has always been tight, lean, efficient. So the sight of my own body and the firm presence of my stomach surprises me, so much that I barely even notice I've finished my milkshake.
Wait, what?
I look down at the straw in my mouth and my eyes follow it to the large cup in my hand, even as I hear the loud, hollow slurping of my straw sucking on air at the bottom of the empty container.
My stomach gurgles again, and in a panic I throw the container out into the darkness beyond my own desk.
"Who's there?" I call, trying to sound brave, as I turn my head again to look for whoever is pranking me like this. But as I do, my mouth still open at the end of my question, I feel a toaster pastry pushing between my lips and I bite down automatically like one of the library hole punch machines. I chew and swallow, and open my mouth to gasp for air, but the pastry is pushed further into me, my chair won't move, and my choices are bite a piece off or choke.
I take another bite, and start chewing.
Now that I've seen my stomach bloating, it's like my brain won't let me stop being aware of it. I look down at myself again, slowly, and it's like I can see myself expanding in real time with every swallow. I can't let myself go like this.
I need to stop.
I take another bite as the pastry is shoved further into my mouth, and crumbs spill down my shirt. I watch as they trickle into the gaps between the buttons of my shirt, which are being pulled wider before my eyes.
After a few more, large bites, the pastry is gone. My buttons are straining, but I exert as much effort as I can to tighten my abdominal muscles and keep my gut pulled in. I will not burst a button, not here in the library, not ever.
Just thinking about it makes me panic again.
"I just want to leave, please just let me leave..." I start to plead, in a half-whisper. I can't see beyond the little area of light around my desk, but there must be someone out there who's doing this to me. I can't see anyone, but I think I might hear something moving.
I'm surprised library security hasn't done anything yet. I've worked here late at night before, and never had any problems.
I try to move my chair again, but it doesn't budge. I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time, and freeze as the screen lights up.
FINISH YOUR PROJECT.
I yelp in surprise, my phone skidding out of my hand and across the desk, the glowing letters and black background still visible as they take up my entire screen, no apps or clock in sight.
The phone slides to the other side of the desk, just beyond my reach. I start to panic more as I remember my feet being stuck to the ground.
I quickly swallow the last bite of the chocolate bar I'd been eating, dropping the wrapper on the ground, and start to reach frantically for my phone.
POP.
One of the buttons on my shirt - at least one - has burst, stressed too much by my sudden movements.
"No, no, no, no -- fuck -- "
And I can't even reach my phone. I move my other hand to the edge of the desk, trying to adjust my chair's position at all, and find that I can move it slightly closer to the desk, just not farther away. But I freeze as I feel something warm and soft against my hand.
Looking slowly down, I see why the chair only moved slightly.
My hand is pressed against the edge of my swollen, exposed abdomen, the edge of the desk biting into my full belly and stopping me from pulling myself any farther forward. My button-up shirt, which was already form-fitting like most of my clothes, has lost two of the buttons at the apex of my bloated stomach and spread itself open. It shifts open another half-inch on each side before my eyes as my belly stretches even more, revealing even more of my skin.
"Mmf --" I try to say something else, but the words can't get past the greedy mouthful of cheesecake I'm chewing on, its rich texture filling my mouth and my senses completely.
I feel pain in my abdomen, slight at first but quickly growing, and I instinctively reach below the desk to pull my waistband down beneath my belly, which I can feel is still swelling even more.
I start to whimper, unable to speak as I chew the final thick bite of my double cheeseburger, not even waiting til my mouth is full to lick the juices from my fingers.
"Don't worry about this. Just finish your project. Then this will be over," came the same sweet, distracting voice as before.
Trying not to think about how tight my jeans were starting to feel even with the waistband pulled down, I whimper again and nod, even though I have no idea who I'm nodding to. I turn my gaze back to the screen and start typing again, ignoring the taste of the sugary soda filling my mouth as much as possible.
After another hour, I pause, feeling out of breath. I've made progress, but the project isn't done yet.
"I need... a break... please." I sigh into the empty air around me. My jaw is slightly sore from chewing through so many candy bars and gummy snacks, and the library computer's keyboard is coated with the sugar and grease of vending machine pastries.
I close my eyes, leaning back, hoping the voice will listen to me. I feel a cool hand start to caress my stomach, massaging and soothing me - if I wasn't so exhausted I'd try to jump out of my chair, but it's such a relief to my overfilled tummy that I just sigh, keeping my eyes shut. I don't even care who it is. I just need a break.
I start whispering, "I'm almost done. I'm almost done. Please. Believe me. You can stop. Really. I'll finish it," like a prayer to the study gods, ending with a groan. My voice is thick and full, I barely even recognize it.
My prayer is answered by the scent of melted cheese, and the feeling of a hot slice of pizza passing between my lips.
"Mmnooo..." I force out, between bites, but I can't move my head. I can't stop eating. I don't even open my eyes, there's no point. Whoever is doing this to me has made it clear that I'm not going to leave before they're done with me. Better to stop fighting them, and save my energy for my project. The first slice, then a second, a third, and a fourth disappear into me, and in a matter of minutes I've eaten an entire pie.
My stomach creaks and I feel it stretch, sending a shooting pain through my body and deep into my core, making me press my thighs together and arch my back -- it's as if some part of my body is betraying me and enjoying this, even while my stomach and my poor, compressed lungs beg for mercy.
I open my eyes and look down again, hesitantly, and the sight of the impossibly swollen orb of my gut balanced above my lap makes me moan. It's so full and tight that I can barely reach the keyboard without having to press myself uncomfortably into the desk. My shirt buttons have popped open from my stomach down to the hem, and the upper part has ridden up so much it's practically a sports bra. As for my jeans -- oh, that's good -- I unbutton them and sigh with relief as the zipper is pushed down by my belly falling forward, coming to rest fully on my lap, no longer held back by a denim waistband working overtime.
I reach across the desk for my water bottle and swallow mouthful after mouthful of the thick cream, feeling it coat my throat and make my full gut press even more heavily against my thighs.
I type with one hand and rub my belly with the other, and somehow I make progress on my assignment. The next hour passes in a blur -- maybe it's two hours? I can't keep track -- and all I know for sure is that my hands are always busy and my mouth is never empty. I'm passively aware of chips, cakes, candies, and ice cream bars slipping past my lips and into my stomach, but my focus stays on my final project. I shouldn't be eating so much, I don't know how I'm eating so much, I don't even know where the food is coming from, but that doesn't matter right now. I swallow my anxiety about it along with a gulp of cherry slushie from the campus convenience store.
"Finish your project."
As I work, some part of my mind is aware of how my body feels. My tight abs loosened completely after my buttons popped, making as much room as possible for my expanding gut. My jeans tighten, stretching over my hips, my thighs pressing together more and more firmly in my chair. The chair itself seems to feel a little more plush, and I realize with something between horror and amazement that my ass is growing into a pillowy texture beneath me, filling out the seat of the chair. The space between my arms and my torso shrinks and disappears, filling in with the strange, new sensation of my body pressing against itself. As I use the keyboard I have to work around not only my distended belly but my breasts, which begin to press into my arms, jiggling whenever I shift position, quickly popping the last buttons on my shirt and threatening to overflow the A-cup bra desperately trying to keep them covered. And my belly, still tight, feels like it's rounding out in another way as well. A new, present warmth presses against the tops of my thighs, lifting my swollen stomach while feeling softer and more supple than what I had experienced before.
I'm barely even conscious of my increasing panic -- or the wetness pooling between my thighs, I'm so laser-focused on finishing my project, fueled by desperation and the constant stream of calories I'm somehow still consuming.
My mind starts to make sense of what my body is feeling, but I can't really be getting fat, right? That's impossible. All of this is impossible, right? None of this makes any sense. Maybe I'm dreaming. Maybe that's it. That must be it. The star athlete of my high school wouldn't be letting herself go in the campus library past midnight during finals week, frantically trying to finish her project while gorging herself on everything unhealthy she could find, right? Right?
I finally reach the end of the document and triumphantly hit the hotkeys to save the file. As the "Saving..." indicator hits 100%, I throw my arms up in the air in celebration -- and my mind reels as I feel myself jiggling nearly from head to toe as I do. I feel my breasts, my belly, my hips, my thighs, my ass, even a little bit of my calves and arms and chin wiggle, and I quickly suck in a breath -- which doesn't help, since it makes me aware again of how squeezed tight my lungs are against all the food stuffed into my stomach.
I feel heavy in a way I've never felt before. I try to lift myself a little to readjust myself in my chair, and my arms nearly buckle, unaccustomed to lifting so much weight from that position. I look down at my hands where they grip the arms of the chair and I can see that even my fingers are starting to become softer, my wrists filling in, my forearms becoming plush. Even when I'm flexing my arms to try to push myself up, I barely see any sign of my toned muscles under the luscious layer of fat that now covers them.
I'm starting to feel lightheaded. I send off the final assignment, and set the computer to sleep. When the screen goes dark it suddenly becomes a mirror of my reflection, and I can see myself for the first time in hours.
I barely recognize myself. My cheeks are rounder, and my chin isn't as prominent. My shoulders, usually sharp and wiry, are covered in an insulating layer of fat. My collarbones are barely even visible any more! And below that, my cleavage rises up and spills over the top of my bra, looking practically obscene in a way I never expected my body to look. The weight of my swollen breasts has pushed my bra down so that they're almost brushing the top of my stretched, round tummy, which is completely bare and almost makes me look like I'm pregnant. Just what I'd need, a college pregnancy on top of all this. I can't see my lower body in the reflection, so I look down at myself instead.
It takes my breath away. I can't even see the top of my jeans past my breasts and bloated tummy, the waistband has completely disappeared underneath the weight and softness of my belly. I feel my body, hesitantly, squeezing here and there, and settle my fingers into the softness at my hips, my thighs, my ass. My hipbones used to stick out no matter how I was sitting or standing, and now they're completely hidden by my new love handles and hips, I can barely even feel them. The pudgy pouch that has blossomed between my belly button and my underwear is soft and sensitive, and even though I can't see it, I feel myself shiver as I tease at it, slipping a few shy fingers between my engorged belly and my lap to explore myself even more.
"I... oh... I can't..." I stutter, interrupting myself, trying and failing to wrap my mind around what had happened.
I shakily grip the edge of the desk and try to push my chair back again and stand up, and that's when the light over my desk finally shuts off.
My shriek of surprise is the last thing I hear, right as I feel my legs give out either from the surprise, or from all my new weight, or both, and I topple back into the chair. Even through my fear, I notice again how my whole body jiggles as I move, in a completely alien, unfamiliar way. Everything is dark, and then everything stops.
---
I slowly open my eyes, blinking against the light. The library is brightly lit, with sunshine streaming through the windows. I must have fallen asleep while I was studying last night.
Oh! I must have fallen asleep! I knew it was all a dream.
I check my phone, and see that it's nearly 8am. The library isn't even open yet!
Phwew, that saves me having to make awkward explanations to security, I can just leave through the self-locking exit.
Even better, I see an email confirming that I sent out my assignment last night. Thank goodness that part wasn't a dream!
Wait.
Huh? How could that have happened?
Slowly, I push my chair back from the desk and look down at myself. I let out a little sigh of relief, though it's not as happy as I'd like. I'm not nearly the size I was in the dream, but I'm not in peak form for my sport, either. The off-season and complicated assignments have meant I've been studying more and not training as much as I should be. My shirt is definitely a little tight, but if I hold my abs in, the buttons don't even gape. My jeans still fit, I just have to keep adjusting the waistband when I sit or stand.
There's no way I've gotten fat. No way.
Maybe I've just gotten a little... chubby.
But that's all.
I have plenty of time to work it off before the sports season starts again.
I stand and absently press my hand against my belly, giving it a little rub before I adjust the waistband of my jeans. I pack my backpack and get ready to leave, taking a swig from my water bottle, but it doesn't make me feel refreshed. That's kind of weird.
My stomach rumbles faintly. I should head home and have breakfast, my family might be worried if they figured out I was out all night.
I slip out the un-alarmed library security door into the hallway and start walking toward the main doors, but before I can get there something catches my eye.
A pair of vending machines sit against the wall, glowing brightly.
I pause.
I never get snacks from the vending machines, they're usually terrible for you and definitely not part of my training program. But... the drink machine has bottles of milk. That would probably refresh me more than the water did, and at least it isn't as dense as the heavy cream from my dream.
Speaking of which, those snack cakes had tasted pretty good. I'd never actually eaten them, so how could I dream about what they tasted like?
Before I know it I'm standing in front of the snack machine, inserting a few bills and punching the buttons to order two different cakes from my dream, the ones I'd liked the taste of most. I'm just curious if they taste how I imagined them. This is a one-time thing. For sure.
Oh, hang on, they have my favorite chocolate bar, too. I should get one, in case I don't like the cakes.
After a couple more button presses I'm holding all three, a little awkwardly, in the crook of my arm. I open the candy bar and put it between my teeth, which makes the cakes much easier to carry. I put one into my coat pocket.
At the drink machine I punch in the number for the bottles of milk, and the arm retracts and slowly pushes a bottle forward... and then it doesn't stop.
THUNK
THUNK
Two bottles land in the bottom of the machine, waiting for me. I hadn't planned to get two, the machine definitely malfunctioned, but the taste of the chocolate in my mouth is making me feel even thirstier than I was. I take both bottles, putting one into my other coat pocket and opening the other.
The taste of the chocolate and the milk together is sweet, rich, refreshing, and exactly what I had needed. I don't even notice how my blouse feels a bit tighter as I drink more, my abs relaxing a little to make room for my stomach to expand.
I smile, licking my lips, as I leave the building and start to walk home.
I unwrap the first of the snack cakes and pause for a moment to look at it before taking another long drink of milk.
There's no way this snack could taste as good as it had in my dream.
...But what if it did?