I open my eyes and blink as they adjust to my bright surroundings. I am in bed - my familiar bed in 2018 - a sliver of sunlight beams through a crack in the curtains and onto my face, the rest of me tucked up underneath a thick duvet. The covers are oddly mounded, like a giant pillow is stuffed beneath them, and grimacing, I throw them off to reveal my body...
I am enormous. At least twice as heavy as I had been just moments before, having progressed from straight from chubby all the way to obese. My body is a sea of fat, and I realize to my horror that I can no longer see my penis, which as I look down my horizontal body is hidden from view over the crest of my gigantic belly. Panicking, I heave my bloated, naked body out of bed, and stand-up, my knees creaking under the weight as I waddle to my bedroom mirror.
The sight that greets me sends a shiver down my spine. My body, which was a little pudgy but otherwise trim and healthy just a few hours ago, is now ravaged by what looks to be years of gluttony and over-eating. I have taken on a pronounced pear shape, a pair of heavy saddlebags weighing me down on either side, and my hips wide enough that I might struggle to fit through my bedroom door without turning sideways. Horrified, I slowly turn to inspect my rear, and quickly realise that turning sideways might not help very much anyway, given the pronounced and drooping bubble butt that is jutting out above my thick, thunderous thighs. My legs are soft and cratered with cellulite, like a lipedema sufferer that's not been taking their medication.
My belly is still hanging over my crotch, so I lift it up to inspect the damage beneath. The tip of my penis is visible, but only just. The rest of buried under a hefty fat pad, which has gained a significant amount of territory since my last visit to the past, and looks to be threatening to swallow my manhood altogether. I let my belly fall to my crotch with a slap as my eye continue up my body to my chest, which is now shaven and hairless.
Were I a high-school girl I might have been pleased, even thrilled, with the size and perkiness of the breasts that are hanging off my chest. Unfortunately, as a 20 something male the sight is much less satisfactory, and I cup them unhappily to feel their weight. They are soft to the touch, and surprisingly weighty. I bounce them up and down in my hands and watch the fat spill out of my fingers - more than a handful...
Letting my breasts drop to my chest I lift up my arms - more of an effort than it used to be - and look at the heavy bingo wings that droop underneath like melted cheese. My arms have never been particularly toned, but you could at least always see the hint of muscle beneath the layer of chub. Now that muscle is buried so deep under my blubber that I'm sure it will never see the light of day again.
At that moment there is a knock at the door, and the familiar voice of my mom calls out from the other side, "wake up sleepy head, time for your morning snack!"...
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