Howie Returns to PennsylvaniaChapter 3
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How I Got Fat free porn video
Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to explain how it came to pass that I
got fat. You see, I didn't always used to be this way. Once upon a time,
I was buff ... muscular and REAL fit!
Back in those days I was a weight trainer and minor fitness guru in the
area. I'd always been interested in keeping healthy. I worked out every
day and watched carefully everything I ate. I had a taut, muscular,
tight body ... the kind that drives women wild! Oh, back in those days,
I used to wake up in the morning and stare at myself in the mirror,
flexing my biceps. Sure, in retrospect I realize how juvenile and
self-absorbed I was. But back in those days, I was just showing off,
y'know?
Anyway, it all came to a sudden crash the day the universe changed
forever. "The Great Swap" ... that's how it's going down in the history
books. Sure, I've heard the technobabble from all the science geek-types
on what they think happened. And I've all the religious and spiritual
hype as well. But I'm a practical guy ... or was. All I know is that one
moment I was in my apartment, showering off the sweat from a
mid-afternoon workout ... and then next thing I knew the world was
swimming before my eyes and I was shaking my head dizzily.
There was a funny taste in my mouth. I remember that was the first thing
I noticed. The taste.
I blinked twice and realized I wasn't in my apartment any longer. I was
in someone else's apartment. It looked pretty much the same layout as
mine, but all the furniture was different. And I wasn't in the shower
... I was sitting on a couch watching a daytime soap opera. And I wasn't
in my body any longer. I felt long, soft hair around my shoulders. I had
always kept my hair trimmed very close to the skull. Finally I looked
down and saw HEAPS.
I was huge! I remember the first time I saw these monstrous breasts.
Huge, sagging double pillows attached to my chest. My round, massive
belly blocked a view of my legs and feet. Mounds of sagging flesh clung
to my arms, and I could see my hands and the chubby little stumps that
passed for fingers. Clenched in those fingers was an open jar of peanut
butter and a spoon. THAT was the odd taste in my mouth. I had been
eating spoonfuls of peanut butter!
I struggled to stand up, not yet sure about the balance of my new
weight. I snapped off the blaring television set and waddled down the
short hallway into the bathroom to look in the mirror.
I was Maura Daniels, a woman who lived in an apartment just down the
hall from my place. I didn't know her very well, but really no one in
the 71st Street Apartments knew anyone else. I had seen Maura struggling
up the short flight of stairs to the second floor several times. I think
I had muttered "good morning" or something similar once or twice. But
that was it. I had no idea where she worked (IF she worked), what she
was interested in, or how she had let her body go to pot like this.
I took a quick inventory of my new self: My hair went just below the
shoulder and was dark brown and very curly. My new face seemed very
rounded and flabby. I feel my cheeks and jowls quiver when I turned my
head. I was wearing a pair of old, ratty pink bunny slippers that had
seen MUCH better days. A pair of thick grey socks was on under those. My
huge girth was enclosed by an immense terrycloth bathrobe, a dirty
grey-blue in color. Hesitantly, I opened the bathrobe and found to my
great relief, I was wearing a pair of gigantic, flowery white cotton
panties and a large white t-shirt with a picture of kittens on it and
several small stains that looked to be chocolate.
Wonderful. I had somehow traded my trim, fit bodies and the years of
sweat and effort that went into it for this dumptruck of slobbish form.
Well, if Miss Maura Daniels thought she could steal my perfect body and
abandon this wreck, she had another thing coming! I decided it was
high-time that Maura and I finally sat down to talk.
I retied the bathrobe and stumbled out of the bathroom towards the door.
Under normal conditions, there is no way I'd allow myself to be seen
looking this slovenly in public, even though it wasn't really my body
and physically I didn't really deserve to be cleaned-up and wearing
fresh clothes. But I was pig-biting mad and couldn't contain my rage.
I jogged down the apartment hallway, thumping heavily with each step,
and quickly reached my own apartment, just several doors down. But that
small trip had knocked the wind of me and I had to stand, panting for
about a minute outside my own door trying to catch my breath again.
Finally, I pounded heavily outside the door.
There was a long hesitation, but finally the door opened and I saw my
own familiar face and body, still sopping wet from the shower I had been
taking. But a towel had at least been wrapped around my old frame
(albeit, in a feminine wraparound way to conceal my old chest as well!)
"Ohmigod, am I glad to see Miss Daniels," my body started gushing, as it
quickly pulled me inside. "I dunno what happened, but I got changed into
Mr. Bullington from down the hall!"
I quickly reassessed the situation. Whoever was in my body, obviously
wasn't Maura Daniels. But if she wasn't me, then what the devil was
going on?
"Okay, calm down," I said, surprised at the soft, high-pitched sound of
my new voice. "I'm not really Miss Daniels. I'm Hank Bullington and
that's my body you're in. Now how are you?"
"I-I-I'm Judy Simons," my body said, and started sobbing. Judy collapsed
into my arms, in what I'm certain would've been a comical site were I
more removed from the situation. A grown man, 6'5" and built tough,
half-naked and crying with his arms around a 300-pound woman in a dirty
bathrobe.
While Judy cried, I hugged him and racked my brain to figure out WHO
Judy Simons was. Obviously, I didn't know my own apartment building very
well. There was a Simons woman on third floor, but her named was Linda
or Laura or Lana or something like that. BUT, she was a single mom and
had a little girl, maybe six or seven years old.
"Judy?" I said quietly. "Are you Mrs. Simons' daughter from upstairs?"
Judy nodded wordlessly.
"How old are you?" I asked.
"I'll be nine this October," he replied.
Nine years old! The last time I had seen her, she had to have been six
or seven. And of course, now she was a 33-year-old man.
"It's gonna be okay Judy," I lied. "We'll get you back into your regular
body."
I took him by the hand and led him upstairs, slowly so as not to exhaust
myself this time. Judy didn't seem used to the balance of my body
either, and seemed content to move slowly. I let him lead the way to the
Simons' apartment, since I wasn't sure where it was. We knocked on the
door, and the little body of Judy Simons, dressed in a pink sweater,
blue jeans, and ponytail, answered the door.
"That's MY BODY!" Judy shouted, with my old loud baritone voice.
"Hush," I said. "We'll straighten this out."
I turned to the little girl who stood frowning at us in the doorway.
"I'm Hank Bullington from downstairs. And this is Judy Simons, in my old
body," I began. "Something weird seems to have happened, but I imagine
you know that already, since you're not the real Judy Simons?"
The girl appeared enormously relieved and quickly motioned us in.
"I'm Judy's mother," she said. "My name is Laurel. Pleased to meet you
Mr. Bullington."
She extended a dainty little hand to my chubby one and we shook, trying
desperately to maintain certain social niceties despite our bizarre
situation.
"Over in the corner," she motioned, "in my old body is Harvey Finkle."
I shrugged confusedly and looked at the middle-aged woman on the
armchair in the corner. She was wearing a red sweatshirt and black
stretchpants, with her dishwater blonde hair pulled back by a scrunchy.
She seemed a bit heavy in the thighs and buttocks, but not seriously
overweight. An attractive woman, for a middle-aged mom I decided.
But I had no clue who Harvey Finkle was.
"Mr. Finkle is the elderly gentlemen from first floor," Laurel whispered
to me in her childlike voice. "The one with the oxygen machine."
I smiled and waddled over to shake hands with Finkle, who smiled back
distantly at me. He seemed very content with all this, and I wondered if
maybe the shock of this bodyswapping musical chairs business had pushed
his age-addled mind into an overdrive of senility. Still, he should have
a younger brain now.
My contemplation was broken when I heard loud crying sounds behind me.
Judy and Laurel were hugging, in another comically bizarre "Dear Diary"
moment. When they finished, Judy sat down on the couch and Laurel
offered me a cup of coffee.
"No thanks Mrs. Simons," I replied. "I'd just like to figure out what
happened and how we get back to our own bodies."
"I'm afraid I don't have good news to report," she replied. "Mr. Finkle
and I have been watching the television reports come in. There's a lot
of confusion yet, but it seems as though something happened globally.
People all over the world have suddenly traded bodies at random with
other nearby people."
I glanced at the muted television and two burly men in flannel shirts
and workbelts sitting behind an anchor desk. Probably the two news
anchors had swapped with cameramen or lighting technicians or some other
nearby techies.
"What are we supposed to do?" I asked.
"Well, they're telling us all to remain calm of course," Laurel said.
"And everyone is supposed to return to his or her own life. In order to
sort out all the confusion. The government is promising to find a way to
restore everything back to normal. But no one has offered an explanation
for what happened yet. So I don't see how they're going to change us
back."
I nodded silently, trying to digest all of this information. Sure, most
people could go right back to their normal jobs and lives, in a
different body. But how I was supposed to lead workouts and training
regimes in this hideously obese fat woman's body?
Laurel continued chattering for awhile, and eventually Mr. Finkle broke
in as well. His mind seemed sharp as ever. Though it turned out he was
just a quiet person. We decided to gather up everyone else in the
apartments and try and sort out who was who. Perhaps then I could find
the real Maura.
While Finkle and Laurel went from apartment to apartment, I took Judy
back to my place and helped her get dressed in some of my clothes. Just
a t-shirt and jeans.
"Mr. Bullington, shouldn't you get dressed too?" he asked.
I laughed. "I doubt if any of my old clothes are going to fit me
anymore!"
"Well, d'uh!" he said, and laughed as high-pitched a squeal as could be
managed from a grown man's voice. "Go down the hall and put on some of
Miss Daniels' clothes."
I really didn't want to go back into that woman's apartment. But I was
started to feel uncomfortable in her lounging clothes. So reluctantly I
agreed and we trotted down the hall into Maura Daniels' place. Judy
helped me find a pair of monstrous blue jeans that looked like a tent.
But they went on VERY snug and actually felt tight once I had squeezed
into them. They had no pockets though, so I still felt rather odd about
wearing such obviously feminine jeans. But my concern changed when I
looked in the mirror and saw how huge these jeans made my butt and
thighs look.
I sighed wearily. Judy helped me put on a pair of tennis shoes and had
to tie them for me, since I just couldn't manage to reach the laces. I
wondered how the real Maura had done all this. But no matter, I looked
at least presentable now. We trotted downstairs (going down a flight of
stairs is SO much easier than coming up one!) and met with the other
tenants, gathered out in the street below.
We couldn't find the real Maura Daniels. Mr. Finkel's body was found
dead in his apartment, along with his wife's aged body as well. We
surmised the shock of suddenly swapping into such aged and infirm bodies
killed whoever wound up there. A chill went up my spine as I thought
there but for the grace of sheer luck goes I. Suddenly being a fat lady
didn't seem so bad.
Agatha Finkle was a pimply-faced teenage boy formerly named Tony Horner.
And that boy had become Amanda Eckland, a girl roughly his own age,
dressed in a white tank top and denim shorts. Agatha and Harvey Finkle
looked odd together, a teenage boy and a middle-aged housewife holding
hands and talking quietly among themselves. Tony couldn't seem to keep
her hands off her new self, and kept rubbing the sides of her chest. We
never did find the original Amanda Eckland, but a heavyset black man
came up to her and quietly said, "Deary, that's not very ladylike.
Perhaps you'd be better to explore your body in private, honey?"
Several other people were totally missing from the apartment. And we had
several new arrivals as well. A taxi cab driver had become Mrs. Gabriel,
another mom from 3rd floor. A derelict wino from down the street had
become Mr. Stanton, a respectable young insurance agent. And a cop and
his partner who had been parked nearby the building had become Cindy
Richards and Tanya Chambers (two college girls who shared an apartment).
We talked, got to know one another, and listened to several news reports
on a radio someone had thoughtfully brought outside. It seemed there
were already several cases of identity fraud: people claiming to be
someone else for the purposes of gaining wealth, power, social position,
etc. A government commission had been established to look into all such
claims immediately, and the news reports stated the top government
officials were already undergoing detailed interviews their new bodies
were accepted.
The bottom line was that we were all supposed to return to our original
lives. I told Laurel and Judy Simons they could come and take all my old
clothes for Judy, if they liked. They were very grateful, and suggested
that I do the same with Maura Daniels since she had never showed up to
claim back her life. I felt horrid about doing it, but deep down I
realized there really wasn't much other choice for me. And so that night
I dug through Maura's apartment and hauled back a couple of boxes of her
clothes to my place. I suppose in retrospect, I could've just moved into
her apartment. But we had been told to maintain our own lives. It was
bad enough I was stealing her personal property, but I refused to live
in her apartment and pretend that I was anyone other than Hank
Bullington!
I spent a restless night wearing a tent-like blue flannel cotton
nightgown.
Morning came too damn quickly for my tastes. I used to be a morning
person, up at the crack of dawn each day. Discipline had always been key
to me. But now I suddenly lacked energy and motivation. No wonder Maura
had let herself get so fat! There was something in this body that just
sapped a person of all ambition. I wanted nothing more than to just lie
in bed forever.
But I'm not Maura Daniels, I reminded myself. I'm still Hank Bullington
and that means I'm a disciplined person.
Struggling and panting, I hefted myself out of bed. The bedsprings
groaned in appreciation of the lifting of my great girth. I was already
terribly hungry and had a sudden strong craving for something sweet.
Again, I chalked it up to this lousy body.
"No breakfast for you!" I said, frowning at my protruding belly. "If I'm
stuck with you for the next 50-odd years, you'd best get used to a
strict diet starting right now!"
I padded down the hall to the bathroom, stripped naked in the dark to
avoid catching a glimpse of my revolting body, and showered as quickly
as possible.
We all have lives to lead, I reminded myself. Just because you're fat
doesn't mean you can't lead yours.
I changed into a fresh pair of size 12 white cotton panties and put on
an equally huge pair of fluorescent green sweatpants, the closest thing
I could find in her wardrobe to a sportsbra, and an extra-large dark
green hooded sweatshirt. Thus donned, I thumped out the door and down
the stairs.
I glanced at my car, but decided not to drive to work. For one thing, I
don't think I trust the thought of some guy in (for example) a 6-year
old's body trying to drive to work. No, the streets won't be safe for
awhile. And I could REALLY use the exercise anyway.
I pounded down the street, my pillow-sized breasts bouncing up and down
despite the bra I wore. Being a woman was bad enough, why did I have to
become such an immense one?
I finally reached the gym and collapsed instantly into a chair to catch
my breath. I scarcely fit into the tiny furniture, but at this point I
didn't care. I had made it here. This was the beginning of the end of
Maura Daniels' fat life.
The day went slowly. None of my classes showed. I guess I should've
figured on that happening in retrospect. With everything that had
suddenly happened, I can understand where a trip to the gym for a
workout might be the last thought on most peoples' minds.
The odd thing was that around 5:30 just as I preparing to pack it up and
trudge back home, my "Take It Easy" class showed up. The "Take It Easy"
class is a group of about a dozen middle-aged women, mainly working
moms, who gather for a quick workout twice a week after work. All twelve
of them had managed to show up ... though not in the right bodies, of
course.
Actually Mrs. Konberg was in the right body. For some reason, not
everyone on the planet had been shifted around. But the remaining 11
"Take It Easy" ladies were now an odd assortment of both genders and
every possible age and ethnicity under the sun. But they all wanted to
work out, so I re-introduced myself to them (we all had a good laugh at
my predicament ... it IS after all ironic that a fitness instruction
should wind up in the body of the very antithesis of all he stands
for!).
We had a good workout. It was shorter than usual, since none of us were
yet accustomed to our new bodies, and it's not a good idea to push your
body farther than it should go. Until we all knew better our own limits,
I decided it was wise to keep the workouts easy. Besides, this group had
always been more interested in the social aspects of an afterwork
gathering than a serious sweat-down.
After the workout, a middle-eastern man with a thick mustache and a
pink-and-white sweatsuit came up to me from out of the group.
"Mr. Bullington?" he said. "Can I still call you that or would you
prefer Miss Bullington or something else entirely?"
I laughed. It's healthy to be able to see the humor in one's
predicament. It helps us to cope.
"You can call me Hank," I smiled. "But I'm afraid you have the advantage
over me. For obvious reasons, I can't quite place your face."
The man giggled. "Gosh, I'm sorry. I should've introduced myself first.
I'm Carol Meyers?"
Carol had been one of the heftier women in the "Take It Easy" class. She
had a very pretty face, but carried a lot of weight. She always seemed
happy with herself though, and like the rest, came to socialize and not
to lose weight. Unlike the rest, she was a single mother of two
children. Her husband had been a military man killed in a freak
helicopter crash several years ago.
"Carol, of course!" I said. "Forgive me. What can I do for you?"
"Well, Hank," he began sheepishly, stirring a foot into the ground. "I
was actually kind of wondering if you might like to have dinner or
something."
This I had not been expecting. I mean, there had been a lot of women
with serious crushes on me before. I had been a pretty good-looking guy.
But now I'm getting propositioned on my second day as a fat lady?
"Carol, have you looked at me lately?" I said incredulously. "I'm
immense!"
"I used to be the same way, Hank!" said Carol. "In fact, I think it's
good in a way that this shifting happened. Before, I thought the way I
felt about you was just ... I dunno ... a puppy-dog crush on a cute
looking guy. And a nice guy, too. You always took the time to talk to me
and make me feel welcome in the group ... and you were there for the
kids and me when Jack died. I've been interested in you for a long time.
But back then, I was the fat girl and there was no way you would've gone
out with me."
I started to protest, but forced myself to stop. On quick reflection, I
realized what Carol had said was the truth. I would've politely declined
an invitation from her ... and it would've been because of the way she
looked. Oh, sure: I would've rationalized it. I would've been gentle
with her. I would've come up with a reasonable excuse to let her down
easy and to make myself feel good afterwards. But the bottom line is
that I wouldn't have dated her just because of her weight problem. Aside
from that one physical flaw, she had been a great woman.
"Now the tables have turned," Carol continued. "I don't know rightly
who's body I wound up in ... or who's you wound up in. But now that
we're not physically the people we were before, I know that the way I
feel for you IS very real. It's not just a physical attraction. And I'd
like to be there for you now, to help you adjust to ... well, a
lifestyle I once knew myself."
"Carol, I'm going to lose this weight," I instinctively replied.
He laughed. "Of course you are, honey," said Carol. "That's what I
always told myself as well. But maybe you're a better man ... erm ... or
woman than I was. That's hardly at issue. I just want to know if I can
take you out. Maybe not to dinner. But perhaps dancing? Or a play? Do
you like the theater?"
I was stunned. Carol not only was still interested in pursuing me, but
also would actually be seen with my new fat body out in public?
"What do you say, Hank?" he asked. "Take a chance!"
Bizarre as the situation was, I couldn't resist it.
"All right," I smiled. "I'd love to go out with you."
And, as they say in the movies, the rest is history. It's been a couple
months now. Carol and I are still dating, and things have gotten pretty
serious. She and the kids moved in with me and have become a fine
addition to the 71st Street Apartments (where at long last, we all
finally know each other names!) Her kids (both boys, aged 6 and 8) wound
up in each other's bodies and so didn't suffer too great difficulties in
adjusting.
Carol is a Junior High School English teacher. I still work at the gym,
though these days I seem to spend most my time helping people just to
adjust to their unfamiliar bodies. In our spare time, Carol and I
baby-sit for Judy Simons.
Oh, and I've lost 43 pounds already! I'm still not at a very healthy
stage, though. But Carol says I look good enough to him. Regardless, I'm
striving to drop at least another 60 or 70 pounds. I've got the sneaking
suspicion Carol is going to "pop the question" one of these days ... and
I'd like a head-start on slimming down to look good in my wedding dress
for him!
Madison
- 16.12.2022
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