“Ah, there you are, Stevie!” Sally exclaims, clasping her hands, “Your father and little Jakey were just looking for you! If I’d known you were trapped underneath someone’s bottom again I would’ve told them. Are you alright though? You were stuck under little June for a while.”
“I’m… better… now,” you choke out between desperate gasps of fresh air. Of course distressingly, it still reeks of June’s sweaty musk and fart gas. At this point you’re willing to take whatever you can get, just so long as you can breath at all.
“Spot on,” Sally smiles, “Say, shall I give your Pop a holler and let him know where you are? He made that camping trip sound positively peachy!”
“I wouldn’t,” you hastily stand up on the couch and grab your girlfriend’s hand, “I think I’d much rather like to hang out with you all break.” In all honesty you’d probably prefer going to school if it meant you wouldn’t have to spend all week in the woods with a pair of incontinent male hippos masquerading as your family members. You feel like you have to stay in Happy Valley and figure out exactly what happened to your family.
“Well that’s just the thing, love,” Sally explained, “I came by to see if I could spend all break with you and your family! My parents aren’t exactly thrilled with the idea, but they’re willing to let me make my own decisions and said they’d be okay with it if your family was okay with it.”
You blinked. You remembered that Sally’s folks were notorious stuffy-shirts who in your mind were the exemplar for stick-up-their-ass, nose-in-the-air, upperclass Londoners. The idea that they would allow their precious, perfect porcelain doll daughter to associate with an average American teenager, much less his suddenly gigantic and shameless family, was nothing short of incredible. Then again, the idea of your awesome, beautiful, British girlfriend potentially becoming corrupted by these ridiculous ham planet parodies of your family was more than a little terrifying to you. You started breaking out in a cold sweat.
“Are you sure you’re alright, Stevie?” Sally cocked her head to the side. Her face of concern for your health stabs at your heart. You can’t pass up the chance to hang out with her, especially not when you’ve been steady for two years and still haven’t gotten to third base with her.
“Sally,” you look her dead in the eyes, and take her dainty, creamy hands into yours, “I would love more than anything to spend my Spring Break with you. I’m sure my folks would agree to let you stay with us.”
“You sweet thing! C’mere,” Sally pulled you close and placed a kiss on your cheek. You're delighted but also a little surprised that she doesn’t mind the smell of June's dirty ass on you. You pray that your normal family is still somewhere underneath their new layers of greasy blubber, certain that if they were they would indeed be alright with Sally staying over the break.
“Aww, what are you two little lovebirds talking about?” you hear Mom ask as she lumbers over to you. Even when you’re standing on the couch she towers over you in height, let alone in girth. This version of Gwen is an eight foot tall behemoth of bulging blubber and audacious adipose. To your utter dismay the only thing she wore below her wide waist was a black fishnet thong that was stretched far too tightly across her humongous hips. Further compounding your despair was the fact that she had no bra on under her wide open button down blouse, fully displaying her monstrous matronly mammaries. The fact that her face and hands were still covered in a layer of slobber and leftover food was now the least of your concerns. Of all of the different things, why did the Witch curse your family into this? She could have turned you into a newt, or a slug, but why make your family huge fat slobs? Quite frankly this torture felt cruel and unusual, possibly even a war crime.
“Steven was just telling me all about how much he would love for me to spend the Spring Holidays with all of you,” Sally answered, showing absolutely no repulsion towards your Mom’s state of undress. For the record, you only mentioned that you wanted her to spend the break with you, but you were sureyou could make this work. “I actually popped over to ask about that. So Mrs. Walker, may I?”
Gwen let out a hearty laugh that made the whole room shake. “As if you need to ask, sweetie!” she says, “You’re practically family already! Please, as they say in Spanish, mi casa es su casa.” Sally happily squealed and spun you around in an enthusiastic embrace.
“However,” Gwen continued, “we had our own plans this weekend. Peter and Jake were planning a camping trip, and Liz, June and I were going out to a fancy spa retreat.” You highly doubted that a so-called fancy spa would allow anyone as disgusting as this parody of your mother within a hundred feet of the front doors, but maybe standards were astronomically lower now than you’re used to. “You two have all day to pick whichever activity you want to participate in, but you have until dinner tonight to decide. Speaking of, I still have to get dressed. We’re going out to the all-you-can-eat buffet tonight so bring your appetite, kids.” You hear her stomach gurgling at the mention of a buffet. Was it a hungry gurgling or was it… oh no. Gwen’s face clenches a bit as a torrent of gas explodes from her titanic tuchus.
PPFFFFFRRRRRRPPPPTTTTTTT
“Oh my,” Gwen chuckles, “Sounds like my tummy can’t wait for dinner. Making room in there are we, old friend?” She slaps her sweaty stomach, making it ripple and wobble and churn. It gurgles again and pushes another foghorn fart out through her fanny.
BBRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPTTTTTTT
Sallylaughs along with your mother. You start to wonder if this really is the same Sally you once knew, and pray that the one you do know is also in there somewhere.
“I’d certainly say it’s excited,” she concurred, “I’m excited too. I do fondly remember the last time I joined you all for a buffet dinner. I can’t wait to- MRS. WALKER YOU’RE PLOPPING ON THE FLOOR!” For the first time today you saw your girlfriend react to how disgusting your family had become, and a wave of relief washed over you. That relief fizzled away the moment you saw yourown mother shitting on the floor in front of you and your girlfriend! It was a long, putrid, muddy brown log that coiled disturbingly between her legs. By the time she was emptied out it was tall enough to reach mid-thigh on the bulbous behemoth of your mother. It was at that point that your brain turned into a foggy vapor, your legs gained the constitution of licorice ropes, and a frothy foam began to billow forth from your mouth.
“Oh dear,” Gwen chuckled nervously, “Looks like I have to get this little accident taken care of. I definitely made some room, that’s for sure.” Of course she wasn’t that concerned about the fact that she just defected in front of her own son and his girlfriend. Sure! Why not?! Just add that not at all disturbing nugget to the pile! This is fine! This is fine! This is not fine!
“I’d say you did,” Sally nodded, “Suppose you’d fancy some help cleaning that mess?” You choked out a gurgling whimper of despair at that remark.
“That’s so sweet of you, Sally,” Gwen beamed, “but I can manage. You’re a guest here, and I would never ask a guest to handle something like this. Why don’t you take Steven to get dressed and out of the house for a while instead? Poor baby still goes slightly catatonic at the sight of his family just pooping whenever.” Your girlfriend nods and drags you your limp body away from the couch and into your room. She sits you down on your bed, and gives you two firm slaps across your cheeks. You’re snapped out of your state moments after that.
“Good news, baby,” Sally says, “we’re going out this morning! That should ought to help clear your head, right?” You manage to wheeze out a weak “thank you” in response.
“My pleasure,” your awesome girlfriend smiles, “Now let’s get you dressed.” She takes you by the hand while you’re still recovering from the shock of the most recent events, and leads you to your closet. As your strength returns, you pick out an outfit you think would be nice for a beautiful spring morning date such as this. A lime green t-shirt, a short sleeve green and white tartan button down shirt, some tan slacks, and your cleanest black sneakers.
“Stylin’, Stevie,” Sally says, “So, is there anywhere you want to go first?”
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