Chapter 1: Tate Wilson

Tate scanned the shelves as the clock tipped well past midnight, the trip purposefully late, as to lessen the chances of being seen. Although his chest is hidden by a bulky sweatshirt 4 sizes too big, and there were patches of stubble on his face sprouting after months of t-shots, there’s still the high probability of being stared at and his existence questioned by hateful passersby.

He quickly grabs a six pack of beer, a few energy drinks and a couple of candy bars before moving to the register. He’s greeted by a set of broad shoulders with a blonde ponytail attached. The mountainous wall of jello turns in the swivel chair, cushy face scrunched up with a smile far too cheer for it being this late. Her multiple chins wobble as she raises a water-wing shaped arm to scan his junk food and alcohol, her double e’s wobbling with each sway of the scanner.

“Could I trouble you for some ID?” She says in a saccharine voice. Tate complies, placing his card against her chubby finger tips, her eyes gloss against the age before she hands it back. “Alrighty ma’am, that’ll do it!”

Tate doesn't bother correcting her, offering a pursed smile before moving for the exit. A pulsing, uncomfortable wave of warmth spreads through his body. He tries to chalk it up to embarrassment as he beelines for the door.

A few minutes of walking pass and the warmth has been coupled with tightness. The 3XL hoodie stretching down to his knees suddenly feels tighter, his shoulders a little broad, his arms thick. His movements become awkward and gaited. He clutches his stomach in his fingers as it spreads, softening in his hands and pressing against the fabric. His hips widened with a bubbling sound, as if it was filling with liquid and distending. His thighs push against each other as he stumbles, gasping as his breasts fill out his hoodie and begin to strain his back.

His arms thicken, becoming heavy, cumbersome, muscle curdling into soft fat, enveloping the once slender limbs. His leg buckles under the sudden weight that's now gathered in his torso, love handles wobbling still. The fat on his knees stretches taut over his bloated cankles, veins and stretch marks becoming starkly visible.

Tates face was not spared, jowls form and spill into his neck, becoming a thick double chin as his neck thickens and starts to jiggle with each of his labored breaths. His stomach spills in front of him, having torn the seems at his hoodie, tattered pieces of flesh barely covering his mass, shoulders so broad and weak he can hardly lift his arms, splayed out in a flailing desperate movement as he begins to waddle forward, apron belly smacking against his legs.

He manages slow, wheezing breaths as he begins to sweat, nearly naked if it weren’t for his shorts, which were practically only being held up by his belt anyways. His fupa jiggles against his crotches, double chin wobbling with each focused huff, cheeks tinted red.

With herculean effort, he shoves his wide frame back into his car. His heart is strained in his chest, jiggling breasts as uncomfortable as they are painful.

Slowly, he moves his chubby hand to the engine and starts the car, mind in a whirlwind as he wonders how the fuck this happened.