Chapter 196 - #196 /the brand new world/

I stared at the black screen covered in text and symbols, my preferred programming language and my preferred processor. I was staring up at the screen looking through it searching for something. Yet I didn't feel quite right. It felt off at first but slowly, context and memories flooded back to me. Recollections of the party and of the second ominous first date that had followed it. I turned my gaze away from the computer monitor. I was in a room, a bedroom that was somehow perfectly familiar yet also equally alien. My bed was still my bed, it was covered in my plain sheets. Yet as I inspected it I realized that it was somehow larger. I tentatively rose from my desk chair and slowly sat up onto the bed. It didn't creak or complain in the slightest against my nigh 300lbs of blubber. I flopped onto my back and the silence continued. Quietly I felt myself sink into the comfortable mattress.

The silence was interrupted by a rumble from deep in my cleavage, in turn cutting off any further inspections of the slight changes in my room. I was in my underwear instead of my bikini, which was also slightly odd. But no less odd than having not recalled any of the trip back to my room. Opening my phone, the clock confirmed it was 10:00am. For the first time I could recall I had a notification from the L.B.L UP app. It confirmed that the update had been successfully downloaded, not that I really needed that confirmed to me. But also included a note informing any users that their bodies had been transported home to their beds for a night's rest to assure their safety during the first reality alterations. The daily alterations that would be factored in each night wouldn’t require we return home. But for the first one the “dev team” which I knew to be Olive and Olive alone, though it would be safest to ensure everyone returned home. I almost got a dark chuckle at the inconvenience some of the other players might’ve experienced if they had made any plans. The comedy however was a hollow comfort of sorts.

Slowly I rose out of bed again, taking a few attempts to sit up and heaving my blubber so I could closely inspect my room. I glanced around the room that was very much still mine. The pop culture posters still hung on the walls that celebrated my favorite video games, my consoles still rested in the corner. My beloved computer had been untouched, but there were little, microscopic edits that stood out. The furniture was spaced slightly differently, a bit wider apart in places likely to accommodate my wider hips, and the tendency for my oversized tush to knock things over. A replacement PC chair for the one I had broken had been generated, double wide to fit my rear. It even looked worn in a bit, the indentations of my oversized cheeks already present. As If I had been using it for a while. It saved my buying a new one, though I couldn’t help but feel a flush of embarrassment at the slightly comical nature of its accommodations. It was still a little hard to believe my butt was so utterly wide.

I’ll be the first to say I was in a bit of shell shock. I was gently allowing the knowledge of everything that had happened to settle in and wash over me. Slowly I got off the bed and wadded with ease through my slightly adjusted room. Though my bed had been made less noisy, the floorboards still creaked under my mass as I peeked into my own wardrobe. The clothes inside were in the style I would typically wear, nerdy but not frumpy, I wondered if it had simulated all the clothes Eliza wouldn’t have allowed me to wear about in public. Yet again the apps little changes were undeniably helpful, having a wardrobe full of clothes that actually fit me was going to be a pleasant change of pace from scrounging anything I could drape over my massive girth. A few of them even looked a little too small, like I had bought them earlier and had since fractionally outgrew them. I suspected a dusty box at the back of the room was where the clothes with sentimental value from when I was skinny were stored. Though with that came the adjacent thought, that in this reality I may never have been the slender reedy gal I had been.

The easiest way to check that was on my phone. In one of the first times in a while I opened an app that wasn’t L.B.L UP. I checked my photo apps and paused to audibly gulp. The first picture up had been the last one taken. The one Eliza took in the middle of the sleepover while she was wasted. At the time she still been regular fat, instead of supersized. But it was the massive woman she had made herself kissing me in that photo. It was odd to think that as far as reality was concerned, she had been several hundred pounds heavier during that kiss. I flicked back to the first photo taken and started moving through the time line. I noticed a gradual trend upwards in size. L.B.L UP had led to my gain spiking gradually, rather than the easy slow uptick in blubber that I was seeing in the photos. However, it was fairly rapid, and I noticed I was getting almost down to my original smallness a year ago. Barring my chest actually. It seemed me and Laura had gotten the same busty genes in the altered reality. I suspected Eliza would have a good laugh at the pictures of us being boob buddies when we first met. While my chest had always been full however I had been relatively slender, up until after a very particular picture. In which I met a very oversized young Latina for the first time. It seemed there was a correlation between my dad marrying my stepmom and me meeting Connie and this realities version of my weight gain.

I needed to know more. Just inferring based of photos didn't exactly feel adequate. After all, for so far as everyone but a handful of people, it was how I had lived my life and who I was. The things I had done and the ways I had acted, in this bizzare reality where I was a true unadulterated butterball. My first thought was some sort of diary. Those tended to wind up as plot devices in time travel movies. But I had never kept one since they were a little before my time. Besides, who needs a private diary in the 21st century when you can vent your frustrations and life problems for the world to see. That revelation clicked something for me. Social Media. I was a practical user of those websites for the most part. But it was better than nothing. If nothing else, I’d be able to see the pictures and posts of other people. Social Media wouldn’t have given me a direct window into my head. But I doubted anything could ever really provide that experience.

My account had been started quite a few years prior when I first got into high school. At the start it mostly featured posts of me my Mom and Laura. My late mother had always insisted on being “put on the web”, Laura teased her for it but inevitably folded under my mother's counter attacks. My sister had done a pretty good job purging her internet presence before going to England. But I could infer her recent slight chub hadn’t affected any of her personal history. Over time the posts with my mother got less present than they had been and images of me and Eliza started appearing in more. Some commiserating tweets about the problems experienced by young women with above average chests. They seemed to have replaced the jealousy posting I had been doing before the reality shift. Then suddenly they stopped completely. All posts for about a month.

Slowly, and gradually they started to trickle back in. I saw Eliza’s Moms new movie, started attending classes again, and began a great family tradition of complaining about my father not being around enough. Things almost started to rebuild. Then the post arrived. The photo I had seen on my own personal collection. Me and a younger but undeniably fat Connie were sat around at a table, while her mother indulged in a scone, flashing her wedding ring. I was rather displeased in that image, I hadn’t been all that happy when we met in my version of reality either. In fact, I had been jealous of Connies chest so if anything, I might’ve been nicer post reality being shifted. I scrolled through and gradually the duo began appearing in my posts. Complaints about their gluttony, how loud they ate, needing to get furniture renovated. Though I couldn’t help but also notice a hint of pride to some of my posts. A hint of pride which rejogged my memories. In my version of reality, I had tried to fatten Connie and her Mom before L.B.L UP by stashing fattening treats around the house. It seemed as though in the altered reality that plan had actually worked. At least on Connie’s Mother.

Though that still didn't explain my own gains. As I leaned in to cringe at a very poor prior fashion decision my foot bumped up against the bin next to my computer desk. It was usually for throwing out paper. But it rattled when I hit it, so I gave it an inspection. It was filled to the brim with junk food wrappers. But not just any junk food. The exact brands I had bought and stashed to fatten up the latina’s through osmosis. For the first time since the party had begun getting out of hand, I let out a genuine laugh. I had planned to fatten someone up, had succeeded, but gotten snared in my own trap in the process. I couldn’t help but flash a hint of a smile. It seemed me and altered reality Deena were exactly the same after all.