by Wilson Barbers
The day before their switch, Shari Thorne decided to run Harriet Smithe out of her evening exercise class.
The foremost instructor at the Megabod Health Club, Shari was a fervid advocate on the importance of exercise and trimness. For most people, that is. There were, she believed, some folks for which exercise was both a futile and absurd activity. Ms. Smithe was one of these benighted souls.
The portly girl had been coming to Shari's class for four months now. A short brunette with long curly hair and a body that broke the two-twenty pound barrier, she was one of those women who naturally aroused Shari's contempt. Childishly eager to follow every direction, she was the kind of fat girl who invited nasty comments, a walking - make that waddling - victim. Most days it irritated Shari just to see her coming into the room, thighs rubbing together, fat boobs bobbling.
The slim exercise instructress had long nursed negative feelings toward women larger than her. Coming from a family where she was the only fit woman in generations, she'd held this bias since childhood: to Shari, fatness was a symbol of everything she'd wanted to outgrow. She'd managed to keep herself from falling into the fat trap, had cast aside her family's self-defeating lifestyle years ago. That her sisters or Harriet hadn't only showed how pathetic they were.
Shari had driven other blimpettes out of her class; all it took was the right amount of public humiliation. While Megabod's management publicly promoted the ideal of health and exercise for everyone, it didn't look too closely when one of its tubby clients dropped their membership. Too many fatties in the club gave the place a bad image.
She hit the girl in the middle of the class's third routine. As the class ran in place to an overplayed Salt-N-Pepa song, Harriet was gamely struggling to keep in time with her thinner peers. Flab bouncing all around her body, sweat shaking off her forehead, the red-faced fat girl didn't notice Shari standing behind her until the instructress cleared her throat.
"NO!" Shari barked, and the whole room stopped to see what she was talking about. Harriet turned, open-faced and innocent, to hear what Shari had to say. "This just won't do!"
"What?" the girl asked.
"You," Shari charged. "You won't do! Flailing around like an elephant, throwing the rest of these ladies off! I don't know why you're even here! You'll never lose weight; all you do is hold the rest of the class back!"
The girl looked too stunned to answer. She stood, wilting under Shari's abuse, while the rest of the class watched and felt grateful that they weren't on the receiving end.
"All the exercise in the world won't do a thing for you," Shari continued. "Not a porker like you! Why don't you just move those pizza thighs outta here, get yourself something to eat! I'm sure you're famished!"
It was at this point that most of her victims collapsed in tears or simply ran out of the room. But Harriet surprised her. Taking a deep breath, she looked Shari deep in the eyes and said simply, "You don't know what it's like."
"To be a blimp?" Shari countered. "I'm sure I don't."
"You don't know," Harriet continued, "but some day you might." She continued to lock sight with her tormentor and for a moment, Shari had the dizzying sensation that she was looking out of Harriet's eyes. "Watch out what you say about people," the fat girl said with a grin. "It might come back on you." With that, she turned and left the room.
It took several minutes to get the rest of the class back in stride. Harriet's response had been more dignified than the instructress expected and had captured the class' sympathies. Once she got them back, though, Shari was able to put the fat girl's words out of her head.
They returned the following morning, however. She'd gone home as usual, stayed up watching Leno until he brought on this oversized actress guesting to plug some comedy or something. Clucking at the way the woman had allowed herself to get so out-of-shape, Shari switched the set off and went to bed. The talk show followed her into her dreams.
She dreamt she was a guest on Tonight with the fat actress and was starting to rank on the woman for being so big. The woman just sat there smiling, unflinching as Shari heaped on a litany of abuse that exceeded anything she'd ever said in class. When Shari paused to take a breath, the actress shook her head and in a voice that sounded exactly like her fat sister Marian said, "I don't know why you're picking on me, Sweetie: you're even fatter than I am!"
At that point Shari pulled out of herself in her dream and saw what the actress was saying: she was obese! Wearing a Megabod tee shirt and tights that accentuated every roll of fat on her blubbery huge body, she was the fattest woman she'd ever seen. She looked sideshow-sized, wider than she was tall. She felt herself starting to scream, but before she could, Shari woke - in an utterly unfamiliar bedroom.
She broke out of the dream feeling uncharacteristically sluggish, then slowly looked around. The room was clean and girlish in decoration, stuffed animals vying for space with a set of "magicke" books on a pair of bracket bookshelves, pop star posters five years out-of-date hanging on the walls, powder blue curtains and bedspread. Shari took it all in from the bed, then shouted out to whoever it was that brought her there: "What the hell is this?" Whoever it was didn't answer.
She rose from bed with difficulty, first because she wasn't sure she wanted to (perhaps she was still in a dream?), second because her body felt unfamiliar and clumsy - like a mummy wrapped in yards of covering. What in the world was wrong with her? Stumbling in range of a full-length mirror, Shari got the shock of her life.
The reflection wasn't hers! At least two inches shorter and quite a few inches wider, it was the naked reflection of a young, fat girl. Her figure was full, with a potbelly and pendulous breasts, with dimpled thighs that showed the greatest degree of accumulation. Her hair was long and curly, her face plump-cheeked.
It was Harriet Smithe's face.
This had to be a dream, she thought, a follow-up to that crazy talk show fantasy. It couldn't be happening for real. Not to her!
"Oh, this is real, alright," a woman's voice suddenly told her. "I made it real." Shari looked in the direction of the voice and saw a familiar blond figure standing in the bedroom doorway - tall, athletic Shari Thorne. "Left a key for myself in the hall," the Thorne figure was saying. "Wanted to see your reaction in person!"
"What is this?" Shari demanded. "Who are you?"
“Thought that was obvious," the Shari figure said.
"I'm Shari Thorne - and you're Harriet Smithe, the girl with the pizza thighs. Thought it'd be good if you could really see how the other half lived for a while."
At that moment, Harriet's earlier statements resurfaced, and the full impact of her situation hit Shari. Somehow, she'd switched bodies with Harriet Smithe. How could this be? Shit like this only happened in badly written Hollywood fantasies.
"Can see you're having some difficulty with this," the Shari figure continued, walking over to her shelves and tracing the books with her shortly cropped fingertips. Two shelves full of books on magic - could they all be for real? "Maybe this'll bring it home. You feeling at all hungry, 'Harriet'?"
As if mere mention of the word was a cue, Shari felt herself craving breakfast. She typically went for a small bowl of something to start the day, but now she was thinking of pancakes, bacon, eggs - a lumberjack-sized breakfast. Down girl, she tried to tell herself, but Harriet's body wasn't listening. She was starving!
“Yeah," the slim figure said. "You look hungry, and from the look in your eyes, I believe you're starting to realize that this is really happening." With that, she turned and left the bedroom. Shari followed her, breasts and belly quivering, into the unfamiliar living room.
"I don't know how you did this," she panted, "but enough's enough. Give me my own body back!" Or give me, a voice in the back of her head started chanting, something substantial to eat!
"Why should I?" Harriet laughed. "Isn't this the body that every woman wants? Why should I give it up?" She threw a key on the couch and said, "You'll need this. Don't worry about me. I've got yours already." With that, she left the apartment. "See ya at the club," the thin girl said, as she sashayed out of sight.
It was that last taunting comment that really hit. How could she show up at Megabod looking like this? Flopping in the couch, her body still demanding breakfast, Shari felt an almost paralyzing despair. An hour later, though she scarcely recalled getting off the couch, she was in the kitchen cooking her second batch of pancakes.
She spent a week cloistered away in Harriet's apartment, cooking and eating, not bothering to dress, shutting out all thought with the sensation of eating. She didn't stop until the cupboards were cleaned out. Once they were, the old Shari returned.
What the hell was she doing? Eating herself into oblivion? Giving in to negativism? All her life she'd preached that people had the bodies they deserved, yet here she was acting like one of her fat sisters. Just because some bitch's voodoo had put her in this blubbery bod didn't mean she had to accept it. She was the exercise expert. If she couldn't whittle down this flab, then no one could!
Shari showered and pulled on a pair of Harriet's sweats - which had grown tight from the week's bingeing - then headed for Megabod. Just about time for one of her exercise classes, and she wanted to see if that witch "Shari" was leading it.
The thin instructress was there all right, standing up in front of her first day's class, giving instructions. Shari peaked into the classroom, watched Harriet as she led the group through its paces, but it wasn't the same. Where Shari had always joined in on the exercises, "Shari" just stood there. Halfway into the first routine, the instructress pulled a Clark bar out of her pocket and quickly devoured it. Shari took a closer look at her old body, noted the way her once clear muscular definition had been lost in the space of a week, the way her once firm upper arms jounced. Just as she thought: even thin, the witch had no will power!
Shari headed for the pool, eager to start on her new regimen. She spent the rest of the day at Megabod, keeping out of "Shari's" way, getting her new body used to a much more punishing exercise routine. When she got back to Harriet's apartment, every muscle in her pudgy body ached. After downing two glasses of liquid protein, she pulled one of Harriet's "magicke" books off the shelf and started reading. It was slow going, but she persevered. In one of them, Shari thought, had to be the secret of their body switch.
She kept at it for four months, whipping Harriet's body to the point where it could do her old regimen without complaint. Harriet's bank account was full enough to allow Shari to devote the entire day to her body. The effects of this nonstop exercise some became palpable: she firmed up every area, even showed definition in her lower arms and calves.
She didn't, however, lose much weight.
Harriet, in the meantime, had succumbed to the inevitable weight gain. Her regular snacking and increasingly indolent manner soon made a wreck of the years of work that Shari had put into her old body. Four months on, and she was almost as big as Shari - softer and paunchier but a near matching silhouette. She'd lost her position weeks before but still made a point of regularly showing up at Megabod, making sure that Shari saw her.
"What's the matter?" she said one day, theater-sized box of Milk Duds in her hand, as she interrupted Shari in the midst of her reps. "I see you've been working out, but you don't seem able to lose anything. You been snack sneakin' after hours or something?" She craned her head back to knock the last of the candy into her mouth, upper arms sagging. Harriet wore an extra-large Megabod tee shirt that was stretched to the limit, midriff bulge peaking out of the sides, and a pair of shorts that showed off her dimply thighs.
"I see," Shari answered, "that you haven't changed much either. You've really done a job on your body."
“My body," the pudgy sorceress laughed, double-chin deepening. "This isn't mine, babe; it's yours!" Patting her belly and thrusting it outward to emphasize her girth, she tossed her candy box into a nearby waste can. "I'm off to lunch. Make that: lunches!"
That night, Shari finally found the spell that had started it all. It was in a small, brightly colored paperback that she didn't even remember seeing on the shelves before. The book cracked opened onto the spell in question - it was obviously something that Harriet had read many times before she'd finally gotten the nerve to use it.
Unlike most of the texts she'd been plowing through, this one was fairly accessible: it was only a matter of moments before Shari got the gist of it. Once she did, she raced over to her old apartment to confront Harriet.
She found her home transformed, its once Spartan tone muted by several large, comfortable pieces of furniture. Everywhere the eye stopped there was a bowl of something edible. Harriet was herself munching on a bowl of Sun Chips, large thermos glass full of something sudsy by the bowl. "'Harriet!'” she grinned, as Shari pushed past her into the living room. "What a delightful surprise!"
"I read your spell tonight, and I know what you've been trying to do," Shari said. "Pushing me every day to lose weight, slim your body down! The spell's not reversible, but it's not permanent either. That's why you've been letting yourself go like this! You know you're gonna get your own body back once I've whipped it into shape!"
Harriet smiled and shook her head, and in that moment, she looked like one of Shari's sisters ruefully putting up with one of their sibling's putdowns. "You don't know half of it," she said, loudly sipping at her mug. "You don't realize how much work it took turning your body around. It wasn't just a case of 'letting myself go.' I had to retrain your metabolism, make it more efficient."
It took several beats for Shari to comprehend what Harriet was saying. When she did, she was appalled. "You used magic to help you gain weight!"
"Why so surprised?" Harriet said. "The books are full of weight gain formulae. I figure by the time we change back, you'll be over twice my weight!" She laughed and took an overflowing handful of chips. "Maybe bigger!"
The room was silent, except for the crunch of chips. Shari felt herself flush with anger.
"Wanna bet?" she heard herself challenging - and in that moment, the course of her life took a dramatic change. "We're about even now," she said, casting a critical eye on her old body. "But wait until you get your new bod back!"
With that, she grabbed Harriet's mug, found it half full of malted, and quickly drained it. She picked up the bowl of Sun Chips and finished it off on the way out of the building.
And so Shari entered in competition unlike any she'd ever done. From then on, she devoted her waking hours to giving Harriet a body that would make her old frame look anemic. She found a personal weight gain formula in the same paperback containing the body transfer spell, one that turned every ounce of food eaten into body weight, and proceeded to cast aside every tenet of cautious eating that she'd previously lived by. Using Harriet's credit card, she ordered cases of high-calorie liquids from a nearby bodybuilding franchise. She had her groceries shipped in, had clockwork restaurant and pizza deliveries and indulged in a round of gormandizing that made her previous week-long depression binge look restrained. This was not weak-willed weight gain - but a triumph of the will!
She took to weighing and measuring herself at the same time each night. First week on her new diet was the hardest, but by the seventh day, Shari was adding close to thirty-two pounds daily. She weighed over three hundred pounds, unable to fit into any of Harriet's clothing. The solution: she safety pinned an unused bed sheet over her torso when the delivery people arrived and spent the rest of the time waddling around the house naked. It took the full length of a sixty-inch tape measure to encircle her hips, the widest part of her body. She replaced her exercise schedule with TV Guide (she especially went for the cooking shows on the upper end of cable) and "magickal" readings.
End of the second week, and Shari passed five-hundred-and-fifty pounds - though she'd gone beyond Harriet's scale, she knew her weight without being told. Eating had become so second nature to her that she was only aware when she wasn't doing it. It took two tape measures to get her full measure: seventy-four inches of breast, eighty-plus of belly, ninety more of hips. Seated, she was a vast womanly mound. If only her sisters could see her now!
She was cooking much less at this point: it was so much easier to just order the food brought to her. Besides, standing in the kitchen was too much effort. These days it winded her just to walk to the bedroom. When she collapsed back onto the couch, it loudly protested her Bonnie Grape weight body. The old life of exercise and physical self-punishment seemed distant and vaguely unreal to Shari.
She was unsure if she could ever go back to it. Or if she even wanted to.
By the time the third week of her eating bender was finished, her old life was an unreal memory. Shari was close to eight hundred pounds now, as big as the circus fat lady from her dream. Her bed sheet was unable to fully wrap around her, so she merely draped it over her when her meals arrived. They'd leave each box of foodstuffs by the couch, and she'd write out a check, handing it to the delivery person without rising from where she sat. At this weight it took more effort to stand than it had completing her most severe exercises.
Fortunately - and she supposed it was one more condition of the spell - she seldom had to get up.
She'd made Harriet's body mountainous, a massive bulk that took up the entire couch. Her huge arms flowed over the couch arms; her belly advanced so far ahead of her that she was unable to reach her crotch. The last she saw her thighs, they'd swollen into a bumpy collection of sagging mounds. So had her calves. Her face was round and bloated, her jowls and dangling chins her most prominent feature. They quivered as she contentedly chewed her way through the day. When once she had devoted her life to being the fittest she could be, she now was the fattest.
Shari had so gotten into her new lifestyle that the first thing she felt when she left Harriet's body was a sense of disappointment. It was three days into her fourth week, and she'd added at least another seventy pounds to her temporary body. She was in the midst of reaching for a chicken sub sandwich, when it happened. A sudden flush of dizziness, a moment's blurring, and she once more found herself in an unfamiliar setting.
She was, she saw, in a large white room, seated on-stage at the head of the room at a banquet table groaning with food. The aroma made her mouth water. Seated in the shadows ahead of her were two rows of male and female banqueters, all hugely corpulent, all with their eyes on Shari. "She's shifted," said a fashionably frocked matron at the head of the first table. "Harriet's done it!." With that, the rest of the room burst into applause.
"I'm back?" Shari said. "Back in my own body?" The woman nodded. Behind her an obese blond in a chef's outfit entered the room. Shari recognized her from one of the cable cooking shows.
"Welcome back," a familiar voice cried. At the other end of the room, standing within the double doors, was Harriet in the body Shari had made for her. Wearing a light cottony dress that clung to every fold on her body, she slowly waddled across the banquet room, each slow step sending waves through her avoirdupois. Her figure was ponderous, a monument to excess, and for some strange reason Shari felt a surge of pride at the sight of it. As she made her way up to Shari, various members of the banquet shouted encouraging words.
"You did a great job," she said once she made it to the other side of the table, standing across from Shari "I love the body you gave me!"
"Love?" Shari gasped. "You did all this to get bigger?"
"Of course," Harriet answered. "You've read the books; you've surely guessed the link between magical ability and size." She reached for a chocolate-covered strawberry from the table and gingerly bit into it.
She'd totally misread Harriet's intentions, Shari realized, because she'd been unable to conceive of anyone deliberately making herself fatter. "But why involve me?" she asked. "You could've simply placed a weight gain spell on yourself."
"One of the conditions of our little - um - group," the well-dressed woman interrupted, coming up alongside Harriet just out of Shari's sight, "is that each of us recruit at least one new potential member. The more unlikely the member, the greater the status."
"So you picked me," Shari said.
Harriet beamed. "Not completely," she admitted, picking up the bowl of strawberries. "I had some prodding in your direction. But when you lit into me that day, I knew you were the one. If anyone could maximize my body's gain, you could." She smiled, a slew of chins smiling with her. "Made for quite a contest," she concluded, and she popped a trio of strawberries into her mouth.
"That it did," Shari said, turning from her building hunger to lift her hands and hold them as close as her own body would allow. Her fingers splayed open from her bulging palms; her wrists were lost beneath folds of crowded flesh. She hadn't yet considered herself, but now that she focused, she knew her own new size. "Looks like you won," Shari marveled.
"Mom gave me a few extra spells that weren't in the books," Harriet told her, and she nodded to the matronly woman by her side. "Wanna see?" She gestured toward a curtain, and her mother walked over to pull it back. Behind it, angled to take in her entire form, was a mirror.
And so Shari got her first look at the new her.
She was dressed in the same style cotton dress as Harriet, though it must have taken twice as much material to cover her up. The fat witch hadn't been kidding when she'd talked about growing double her rival's weight.
Her belly hung all the way to the floor, twelve inches below the dress' hemline. Her dress hiked halfway up her blubbery thighs, which surpassed the capacity of a trio of tape measures. Her dangling calves totally obscured her bare feet. The top of her dress was strapless and covered half her humongous breasts; the cloth followed each fold and sunk deeper into the space between mams and massive paunch every time she shifted her body. If she moved too suddenly (small chance of that at her weight), both breasts would probably flop loose in front of everybody. That would make quite a sight, she thought, as each one was bigger than Harriet's paunch had been.
Her arms were uncovered, forced out from her body by a Michelin size roll of fat on her upper arms. Shari's face looked like it was sinking into her body: chinless, it blended into her billowing torso, making her unable to cast her eyes down. When she looked left or right, her shoulders blocked much of her view like some fleshy horizon. It kept her from getting a good view of her rear, but she knew from the way she both overlapped the chair and rubbed against the back of her legs that her cheeks hung almost as low as her belly.
She was over twice Harriet's size.
"Wow!" Shari said, and with her exclamation, the whole room burst into applause.
"Had a little help," Harriet said. "My gain," she continued, gesturing to indicate her frame, "is more remarkable since you did it on your own. At your size, though, it takes effort just to get your hand to your mouth. You can do it, but why go to all the effort when there are folks ready and willing to feed you?" She clapped her hands and three young, pudgy men came from behind the blond chef. While she wouldn't have even looked at them when she was scrawny, Shari thought they all looked cute - if a bit underfed. Two of them strode to the table and proceeded to fill a selection of plates for Shari.
"You hungry?" the first of the young men asked. "We hope so because Carla has outdone herself tonight!"
Hungry? Shari thought. They didn't know what hunger was until they saw her in action!
"These two are here to meet your every need," Harriet explained with a wink. Her fleshy arm draped across the third young man's shoulders. "I can vouch for their abilities. In all areas." With that, the first man leaned over Shari's right side, sinking into her amplitude, and placed a slice of something creamy between her lips. It tasted heavenly. With her smiling acceptance, the rest of the room began to dig into their own sumptuous meals. Off to her left, Harriet had seated herself at their table of honor and was shoveling in her own helpings.
"You get around pretty good for a girl your size," Shari said, between bites. "Lots better than I could when I was in your body." She gestured to her feeders to speed things up, so they did.
"Trade secrets," Harriet told her. "I can show you how to do it. It took even more, after all, to get your body to the banquet hall, and you aren't the largest in this room."
She gestured to the banqueters, and as the lights brightened, Shari saw she was right. Some of the women and men were even fatter than her! They rested back on low chairs totally obscured by their bodies and let their fat partners lovingly feed them.
As she scanned the banqueters, a familiar face grinned up at her and waved. Wasn't that George, her sister Marian's husband? If so, that made the ton-plus figure by his side Marian!
"Hi, Sis!" Marian called out, her gelatinous body wavering all about her. In her floor-length dress, she looked like a silk-bound globe with her head sinking in the middle. Both her arms and legs were difficult to discern, swaddled as they were between so much avoirdupois. "Welcome to the club!" So that was how Harriet had been nudged her way! She nodded down at her sister, temporarily losing sight of her as her forefront rose ahead of her. All her life she'd been in competition with her siblings, but it looked like Marian was ahead of her. Momentarily, at least.
And what about the rest of her family? Were they also in on this? Was there a group of magic wielding gourmands back in her hometown?
"I'd appreciate any info you can give me," Shari said to Harriet, as her second manservant held a glass of Zinfandel to her wide mouth. She quaffed her wine, and the first young man abandoned the act of filling her plate for massaging her voluminous forefront. His partner redoubled his feeding efforts to make up for it. Shari felt herself warm, looked out at the room and saw that all of the crowd had turned to stimulating each other along with their dining. Off to her side, she could hear Harriet start to moan with pleasure.
The room grew electric with sexual energy. Her own vast body had become more aroused than she'd thought herself capable of ever becoming. Thin she'd been a demanding and fatally fussy sexual partner. With her new size came a comparably hefty sexual capacity. She wondered if Harriet's weight gain spells still held now that Shari was back in her own body.
She bet they did.
Corrected version copyright (c) 2000 - Oakhaus Designs
