chapter 4

That week, it seemed that everyone had given up on sensible consumption. Every night, the Gardeners met around the table and drank bottles and bottles of wine. Every night, there was a thick, heavy meal with multiple courses being placed in from of Michaela. Even Sarah, the cook of the house, got lazy by the end of the week and was ordering in American style-Chinese food on Thursday, extra large pizzas on Friday, and fried chicken on Saturday night. 

To top it all off, Michaela was sleeping in until at least noon every day. She would stumble into the kitchen, full and bloated from the night before, and start her day off with a simple bowl of cereal and the promise of ‘taking it easy today’. By the afternoon, Sarah had baked something that needed testing, or old pastries needed consuming before being tossed. Michaela was perpetually in a state of bursting…but she couldn’t stop.

The other two enormous bowls of cake batter hadn’t survived the previous Sunday evening. Michaela had snuck one into her room as a pre-dinner snack, and then drunkenly trekked into the kitchen as a ‘sober up snack’. Something happened to her when she would lift the brim to her lips and chug the thick liquid…like an electric current was being battered around in her midriff.

That Saturday afternoon, Michaela had found Sarah in the kitchen whipping up more batches of the batter, with fudge cooling on the countertop. 

Michaela was astounded at the rate her sister was baking. She knew it was technically her career, but the avarice was endless. She was always trying a new technique or attempting an original for her future shop. And what was more impressive - she rarely ate any of it. Over the course of Michaela’s first month back at home, Sarah hadn’t put on any weight at all it seemed. Michaela at this point had restricted herself to her large sweaters and sweats only.

When Michaela plopped herself down at the counter that Saturday afternoon, she felt heavy from the past week. She stifled a burp as she eased her wide backside onto the stool. Sarah turned to look at her, puzzlement brewing in her brow.

“You okay, Mikey?”

“Is it always like this, here?” Michaela said with a tired voice.

“What do you mean?” Sarah said, wiping her hands on her apron and coming closer.

“I just feel so piggish and lazy and slow. I haven’t stopped eating, I haven’t stopped drinking…I don’t have energy for anything. I don’t even want to weigh myself, I’m too scared. It’s like I wake up hungry and I go to bed feeling pregnant. It wasn’t like this before, was it?”

Sarah paused. “Don’t forget, Jackson was here too. He really monopolized everything on the food front.”

“Yeah, and look what happened to him. Look at why he left.” Michaela said sombrely. The sisters paused together in an awkward moment. Michaela didn’t want to get too emotional this early in the day, and so she leaned over and said, “Anywho. Screw it. I’m not getting healthy by Monday.”



She popped one of Sarah’s freshly fried donuts into her mouth. Sarah gave a half smile as she looked away - a twinge of guilt flashed across her face as she resumed beating her eggs.

That night, the family indulged in beautiful homemade calzones. Michaela had stuffed hers so full that it burst in the oven. Half a bottle of wine in, she leaned across the table and collected the leftovers from her sister’s plate. That’s when she felt it.

Her tiny underwear had snapped at her waist. Her eyes bulged, her cheeks darkened. She tried to play it off, and sat back down as smoothly as she could. She could suddenly feel every inch of her ass on the seat. Looking down at the leftovers, her shame smashed against her forehead and begged to leak out of her eyes. 



“Excuse me a quick second.”

Michaela bolted from the room, heading to her bathroom downstairs. She tore off her thick hoodie and sweatpants as she crossed the threshold of the washroom, and looked in the mirror. Her panties were threads on the floor - stretched too far along her enormous glutei. Michaela looked at her naked self in the mirror, and stared fuzzily into the reflection.


Her blonde hair fell lazily from her messy bun. Her cheeks looked as if she was holding her breath underwater - her lips, slightly pouted. Her jawline had disappeared, and a slight double chin was constant, at every angle she turned.

Her boobs were bulbous and round, lazily flopping onto her stomach. She quickly grabbed an old bra from her laundry hamper and tried to put it on. She felt the air leave her lungs as the very small, very tight bra snapped around her ribcage. She held her breath, and then let it out - the back strap buckled out and the bra fell defeated off her shoulders. 



Her curvaceous hips now sported a solid centre mass. Her belly was rounding out; soft, and tanned. Not flabby or sagging - the taught skin felt thick around her belly button, and prominently pear-ish. 


Then she turned. 



Her ass was huge. Her curvy derriere seemed to have been pumped with all the gorgeous fat cells from every tasty treat she had indulged upon. It was wider than she had imagined, and speckled with cellulite along the crease between her now juicy thighs. She was obsessed. 

What was happening to her? She felt herself growing wet between her legs. She was so confused…but then she saw the scale. Michaela stepped on without hesitation, hands on her heavy breasts. The numbers blinked and spun.

164lbs.

Suddenly, Michaela had her hands inside herself, pulsing and pushing. She was moaning at the sight of her soft and curved body, now so thick and heavy. She came gloriously, her other hand grasping shakily on the cold porcelain sink. 

What was that?

She looked at her reflection in the mirror, panting. She was chubby for sure. And she ... was hot. She smacked her ass and strutted out.

Michaela rejoined the family for dinner shortly after, excusing herself with stomach problems. She had ditched the large oversized sweater and instead, fished out an old graduating class shirt - now tight across her tatas and riding up along her belly button. Her sweat shorts were pinching at her waist, and her phat ass cheeks hung out the sides. She plowed through the rest of the family’s leftovers, and looked at Sarah.

“What’s for dessert?”