chapter 4

4.

It was close to midnight a week before the end of Tom’s first gluttonous month. Whimpering, hands clasped to his taut middle, Tom could only manage a few shallow burps to ease the agony coming from his stomach. All the while, Anice looked disappointedly on from above.

“Babe, you didn’t even manage to get through the first pizza. There aren’t any toppings...”

Tom sighed and nodded, shooting the two remaining greasy slices a murderous look. He had tried his best to overindulge tonight, and had put more and more effort into the stupid bet as the month wore on, but Tom’s diet-conditioned stomach was still thwarting his attempts to fatten up.

“Ha,” Jasmine quipped as she marched past the two lovers in the dining room, “not so fun is it, gym boy? This bet is going to be too easy.”

Tom tried shoving a bit of pizza in his mouth but groaned as soon as the cheese and sauce hit his tongue. A wave of nausea hit, the food down below threatened to surface, and Tom shakily put the slice down, defeated. It was counter to everything he had known, but Jasmine was right, eating like a fatty was hard.

***

The day after Tom’s supermarket spree should have informed him the bet wouldn’t be as easy as sitting on the couch and eating a few more snacks per day. Tom calculated his resting metabolic rate, and found he would need to eat 2,500 calories just to ensure he didn’t lose any weight. He would need to eat 500 over that to get a modest gain over time, so realistically would need to clock in at close to 4000 calories every day to see any results by the end of the month. After some quick math in his head Tom realized just how calorie sparse his meals had been. He had eaten to do yoga and weight train. In fact, most days he had operated at a calorie deficit. This would be a big change.

Still, Tom wasn’t worried. He had just bought a car-full of his favorites. The foods he never allowed except for special occasions. Tom figured it wouldn’t matter, not exercising and eating junk all day would be more than enough to get him to ten pounds on the month. So as October 1st dawned, Tom grinned and made himself a meal of six donuts, a massive cheesy 4-egg omelette, and bacon. He looked over his feast, and over to Jasmine on the couch as if to say, ‘enjoy your last few months here, Jazzy, I’m going to eat you right out of it!’

Except…

“Urg,” was all Tom could manage not even a half hour later. Jasmine cackled from her spot on the couch as Tom admitted defeat.

“You need to take this seriously,” Anice chided, taking away mostly full plates. All Tom could do was shake his head. He had managed to get down half the omelette, a few strips of bacon, and one measly donut before hitting the wall hard. Never mind trying to eat a lot of normal food, eating all this grease and fat hit Tom like a pile of bricks. His stomach gurgled and growled loudly, protesting this unexpected torrent of calories. He rubbed at it, feeling the distended mass churn beneath his fingers.

“Let me help, babe. I told you how my brother prepares for his competitions, if you want to be able to process this many calories you need to-”

“This is just my- urrp, warmup!” Tom protested. A few days of this and he would be well adapted. Tom figured once he ramped up, his stomach would get with the program, and have no problem sending all these meals under his skin. Anice only rolled her eyes.

“Warm up, yea. I hope that's true, otherwise we might need to look at getting you a new wardrobe for next year.”

Anice took the plates to the kitchen, but not before delivering a poke to Tom’s middle, prompting a swatting hand and an angry moan. He glowered, but knew Anice was right. Tom wouldn’t admit it then, but even more than the embarrassment of gaining some weight was the horror of the alternative. Not gaining enough. He knew if he didn’t get to at least five pounds that Jasmine would match it with no problem. Jasmine might not be good at losing weight, but she was skilled at tormenting him. And with how she was already doing small workouts and eating better in the weeks leading to the start of her part of the bet, Tom was certain she was in this for the long haul. He pictured himself only getting to six or seven pounds gained each month, with himself swelling as Jasmine shrunk, the look on her face growing more arrogant and cruel as he became the fatty of the house.

A loud smack echoed around the room as Tom sat up. Handprint red on his face, he grabbed at the piece of bacon on his plate and forced it in, chewing and swallowing past the discomfort at the back of his throat. The meat slid down him like molten lava, prompting grease-stained belches and pushing out his belly that much more. Jasmine laughed again.

“Gonna need another few more dozen bites like that if you really want to pork up! Hope you kept your landlord's contact info.”

Tom just groaned and rubbed his middle. He wasn’t going to give up, he couldn’t.