Game Show for One

Chapter 1 - The Show Must go on!

Three in a Row
The room was impossibly white.
No windows. No doors. Only a podium, a chair, and a large display suspended in the air.
RULES
• Three correct answers in a row and you may leave.
• Every incorrect answer adds 10 pounds.
• The changes are permanent.
Claire stared at the screen, then laughed nervously.
"That's... some kind of joke."
No answer came.
At twenty-five years old, Claire built nearly every part of her identity around discipline. At 5'2" and an even 100 pounds, she counted calories without thinking, jogged every morning before work, and prided herself on never needing larger than a size 0 jean. Her fitted blue jeans hugged her slim hips comfortably, and her small B-cup bra fit perfectly beneath a plain white T-shirt.
"I'm answering three trivia questions," she muttered. "Then I'm going home."
The screen flashed.
QUESTION ONE
Which planet has the shortest day in our solar system?
Claire frowned.
Mercury? No... wait, Jupiter rotates really fast... or was that Saturn?
Her heartbeat quickened.
"I... Mercury."
INCORRECT.
Warmth washed over her.
It wasn't painful.
It felt like stepping into a hot bath that somehow existed beneath her skin.
The heat spread from her chest into her waist, her hips, her thighs. Her body tingled as though every muscle relaxed at once.
"...What?"
Her jeans squeezed gently.
The denim no longer rested comfortably against her hips.
Instead, it hugged.
Her thighs brushed together for the first time.
Claire instinctively ran trembling hands down her body.
Her waist had softened.
Her rear end pushed farther into the denim, rounder than before.
Not dramatically.
Just enough that she noticed.
Her shirt stretched slightly over fuller breasts.
"...One hundred and ten..."
She swallowed.
"It's only ten pounds."
She forced herself to breathe.
"Ten pounds. People gain ten pounds over the holidays."
She could lose ten pounds.
She would lose ten pounds.
The screen changed.
QUESTION TWO
What is the largest species of penguin?
"Oh, thank God."
"Emperor."
CORRECT.
One green light.

───

QUESTION THREE
Which composer wrote The Four Seasons?
"Vivaldi."
CORRECT.
Two green lights.
Claire smiled.
"One more."
Maybe she'd laugh about this someday.

───

QUESTION FOUR
Which metal has the chemical symbol Sn?
Her stomach dropped.
Sn?
Sulfur isn't a metal.
Silver is Ag... sodium is Na...
"Oh no..."
She searched desperately through memories of chemistry class.
"I... nickel?"
INCORRECT.
The warmth returned.
This time she recognized it.
It swept through her like a tide before settling heavily around her hips.
Her body yielded to it.
She actually felt herself becoming softer.
Her jeans tightened another notch.
The waistband pressed firmly into her stomach.
Her butt filled the seat behind her more noticeably now, the denim stretching smooth across a noticeably broader rear.
Her B-cup bra suddenly felt crowded.
She looked down.
Her chest pushed more insistently against her shirt.
"C... maybe?"
She grabbed at her sides.
Her once-flat stomach wasn't flat anymore.
Not fat.
Not yet.
But no longer perfectly toned.
"Twenty pounds..."
Her voice cracked.
"I can lose twenty."
She had to believe that.

───

She answered three more correctly.
Green.
Green.
Then-
QUESTION EIGHT
Which country first adopted paper currency?
Her confidence vanished.
China?
Or was that somewhere in Europe?
"I... Italy?"
INCORRECT.
Again.
Heat.
Expansion.
Her breath caught.
The waistband bit sharply into her middle.
She felt her hips widen beneath her palms.
The seat of her jeans stretched until the back pockets pulled apart.
Her thighs spread farther.
Her backside projected more prominently behind her.
"No..."
She twisted awkwardly.
"My jeans..."
The denim creaked.
She stared at herself.
Thirty pounds heavier.
One hundred and thirty.
Her face had softened.
Her arms were fuller.
Her chest pressed firmly against her bra.
Her stomach created the beginning of a small muffin top over the waistband.
"I don't look..."
She stopped.
"I don't look skinny anymore."
The realization landed harder than the magic itself.
She had always imagined weight gain as something that happened to other people.
Now it was happening to her.
"I can fix this."
She nodded frantically.
"It'll take months."
Months.
Not weeks.
Months.
The screen lit again.
Two more correct.
She smiled weakly.
Two green lights.
One question.
One answer.
Freedom.

───

QUESTION ELEVEN
Which painter created The Night Watch?
Claire froze.
"I..."
Her mind emptied.
"I don't know."
Silence.
"I really don't know."
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"Van Gogh?"
INCORRECT.
"No!"
Warmth flooded through her body.
Harder.
Longer.
She felt her hips push outward.
Her backside broadened enough that the chair suddenly felt noticeably smaller.
The seat of her jeans groaned.
Her stomach became undeniably soft.
The waistband disappeared beneath a thicker fold pressing over it.
Her bra dug painfully into her ribs.
She gasped as the hooks strained.
"I'm not getting out skinny."
The sentence echoed.
Not getting out skinny.
The dream she'd clung to vanished.
Forty pounds.
One hundred and forty.
The athletic woman she'd seen in the mirror this morning was already gone.
She wrapped her arms around herself.
"I have to stop crying."
But tears came anyway.

───

The game continued.
She stumbled.
Recovered.
Lost her streak again.
At one hundred and fifty pounds her shirt rode higher over a rounded stomach.
Her jeans left angry red marks across her hips.
Walking felt different.
Her thighs rubbed constantly.
She found herself shifting awkwardly just to stay comfortable.
A small, embarrassing puff of gas escaped before she could stop it.
Claire's face burned.
"Oh my God..."
There was no one else in the room.
She still wanted to disappear.
She reached another two-answer streak.
One more.
One answer.
Freedom.

───

QUESTION SEVENTEEN
What is the capital of Mongolia?
She stared.
"I've heard this."
She knew she had.
"It starts with..."
Nothing.
Nothing came.
"I don't know."
The answer buzzed.
Wrong.
The warmth rolled over her yet again.
The pressure inside her clothes became unbearable.
Threads snapped.
The side seam of her fitted T-shirt split open.
A moment later-
RIP.
The back seam of her jeans burst.
Cold air brushed exposed skin.
Claire gasped.
"No..."
The tear spread lower as she shifted.
There was no saving them.
With shaking hands she removed the ruined jeans.
Then the torn shirt.
Standing in only her underwear, she wrapped her arms around herself.
One hundred and sixty pounds.
Her stomach rounded forward.
Her hips had become dramatically wider than she'd ever imagined.
Her once-compact rear now dominated her silhouette.
The backs of her thighs bore faint dimples she had never seen before.
She stared.
"...Cellulite."
She rubbed at the uneven skin.
"No..."
Her voice trembled.
"I always promised myself I'd never have..."
She couldn't finish.
She looked away.

───

The remaining questions blurred together.
Wrong.
Correct.
Wrong.
Correct.
Each failure brought another unavoidable wave of warmth.
Another subtle surrender of firm muscle into softness.
Another inch somewhere she never wanted it.
Her breathing became heavier.
Her posture changed.
Her balance changed.
She had to rock herself forward to stand from the chair.
More than once another involuntary burst of gas escaped.
Each one made her flinch with embarrassment.
At one point she quietly whispered,
"I don't even recognize how I move anymore."
By one hundred and ninety pounds she had stopped calculating diets.
Stopped estimating gym hours.
Stopped imagining miracle transformations.
Instead she wondered whether ordinary chairs would support her comfortably.
Whether she'd need entirely new clothes.
Whether strangers would remember the slim runner she'd once been.
Or only the woman she had become.
One final question remained.
Two green lights glowed.
One chance.

───

QUESTION TWENTY-TWO
Which ocean is the largest on Earth?
Claire blinked.
For several seconds she didn't trust herself.
Then she laughed.
A tired, exhausted laugh.
"The Pacific."
Silence.
Then-
CORRECT.
Three green lights.
The wall finally opened.
Beyond it stood a neatly folded pile of clothing in sizes she had never imagined wearing.
She hesitated before picking them up.
The roomy jeans slipped on without pinching.
The oversized shirt covered her comfortably.
They fit.
Perfectly.
She looked back once at the empty white room.
"I came in thinking ten pounds wasn't a big deal."
She rested a hand against her side.
"I never imagined how quickly one wrong answer could become a completely different life."
Then, carrying the weight of everything she had lost-and everything she would now have to learn-Claire stepped through the doorway and into the unknown beyond.