Overcharged

"Do you accept the charges?" Came the question on the other end of the phone, their voice professional and courteous. You weren't exactly sure how to answer; whoever it was, they specifically asked for you. As intriguing as the phone call was, you were working and didn't have time to mess around. Once they began to drone on about an entire contract's worth of whatever this was, you decide to put an end to it.

"Yeah, whatever, I accept the charges." You interrupt their pitch with an answer, turning your direction back towards your monitor, moving to set your phone down.

"Very well." the voice replies before hanging up. You barely had time to ruminate on the transaction before your entire world went dark.

You awake with a startle, finding yourself sprawled out on the surface of a creaking bed. With a soft, feminine groan you struggle to sit up, an enormous weight across your torso ensuring that your movements are exhausting and sluggish. You direct your tired eyes downwards, only to find yourself gawking into a plunging valley of cleavage with a fleshy belly eclipsing your bust. A loud gasp escapes your lips just as a torrent of new memories flood your mind's eye.

 

Your name is Audrey, a desperate, hopeless fat girl with an easy albeit challenging life. After a lifetime of what could best be described as ruining your body, a mysterious benefactor called with an offer to whisk you away to a new life, that is, so long as you agreed to take on the issues of a few of his clients - nothing too serious. You accepted without even a second thought, only to find yourself changing for the worst before you could even put the phone down. In an instant, you ballooned by well over a hundred pounds, leaving you unmistakably obese, your clothes stretching across your widening frame. Shortly after, your stomach burbled and churned, giving you a brief moment of intense discomfort before a explosive bout of flatulence roars from your now enormous shelf of an ass, an equally intense belch following right after, rendering your breathless. What little comfort you enjoyed was cut short by an intense heat rolling across your body, a thick layer of shimmering of sweat coating your folds. Within the span of a few moments, you were turned into a gigantic, disgusting slob of a woman, far worse than whatever you managed to do to yourself. The rest of your day was spent in tears, struggling around your apartment, stuffing your face, filling the air with the horrid stench of your unrelenting flatulence.

Just as that vision came to a close, you finally put the pieces together: What you thought was a prank call turned out to be some bizarre body swap between you and Audrey and it was blatantly obvious that you came up short.

Lifting your massive body from you bed, that familiar discomfort pierces your stomach, forcing you to bend right over as aching builds up towards your backside, the sound of your monstrous, lengthy farts overtaking your feminine moans and gasps. Your legs tremble for all of twenty minutes until the gas finally begins to subside, your eyes watering from the repulsive smell.

Waddling to the center of your apartment, you weren't even allowed a second to gather your thoughts before you hear a knock at the door. You crack it open to reveal a somewhat familiar face, a pizza delivery man you've seen once or twice around town. He grins at you mischievously, eying your sweaty, half-naked body, waving a steaming box of pizza around your nose like some kind of prize. 

"I got your favorite babe, open up?" He questions incessantly, pressing against the door, forcing you to relent and back away. Your answer comes in the form of a loud, discordant gurgle from your stomach - you were far too hungry to even think about saying 'no'. Within seconds, he was in your apartment, one hand squeezing a flabby tit while the other roughly groped your gigantic ass. The sleazy man had a slight hint of disgust in his lust-addled expression but it was clear he really didn't care. Throwing you back against a couch, the frame screeching beneath your weight, he wastes no time in peeling your sweat soaked panties from your body, leaving the exhausted garment around the widest point of your thighs while he fumbles with his jeans. 

You struggle from side to side as you're forced to vent a loud, deep fart; the delivery driver shooting you a look of disgust before he's upon you, grinding his erect cock against your drenched pussy lips before forcing his way in. His clumsy hands slide across your enormous gut, fondling handfuls of your flabby tits as he thrusts away, sending little wobbles and ripples throughout your corpulent body. Jolts of pleasure electrify your senses, making you jerk around, leaving you exhausted and gasping for breath after only a brief struggle. Against your better wishes, you part your massive, trunk-like thighs like a good little whore, your frequent moans interrupted by revolting belches. Finally, he squeezes two handfuls of your gut, his fingers vanishing within your folds as his cock twitches, a gradual warmth filling your drooling slit. A loud cry escapes your mouth with his final thrust, your entire body left shivering with satisfaction.

The delivery man wastes no time in getting dressed, leaving you to bask in the afterglow of your orgasm, looking just a littler regretful as he hurries through the door. You must have made for a rather sorry sight: A gigantic woman sprawled out against her couch, sweat pouring down her flabby frame, panties biting into the sides of her enormous thighs, the occasional noisy fart stirring her from her stupor while she explores her body with lazy gropes. The roar of your stomach compels you to sit up. You squirm towards the edge of the couch, eying the pizza left behind, throwing the box open to stuff your face like the pig you now were.

As you begin to satisfy your seemingly limitless appetite, your thoughts drift towards your predicament: Was this seriously the life you were stuck with? Were you dreaming? There was no way this could be you. Tears begin to well up in your eyes, streaming down your face - the sad sight of an obese slob sobbing as she stuffs her face. It was going to be a long week.

The Not-So-Fun Funhouse

After having knocked back a few drinks with your buddies, you decided to visit the annual end of Summer amusement park that drives into town every so often. Every single year, you all had the same tradition: Get together, get a good buzz going, ride all the rides, and conclude it all with a trip through the strange, old funhouse.That last part was a little odd, but you chalked it up to some drunken idea conjured up some years ago. Everyone typically went through in couples, no doubt getting up to a bit of mischief before they were off for the evening; it was all in good fun except for one little addition: You had to bring Sarah along this year.

A friend of a friend's girlfriend, Sarah was finally invited after all this time, probably complaining about being left out of your various outings. Though who could blame you? She was easily the fattest woman you've ever seen in your life and she constantly embarrassed herself with her antics, whether it was her gluttonous eating habits or the way her body rippled and swayed with even the slightest breath. None of her clothes fit her properly and she was always falling behind the group, now panting noisily as she trundles along behind the group, much to your amusement.

Determined to have a good time, you tried to look past the fact that she had to be dragged along, making off-hand comments about how slow she was or the fact that you might have to make two trips just to get everyone home. Looking back at a rather red-faced Sarah, you couldn't help but laugh it up with your friends all the way to the fun house, the last little event of your evening. Unfortunately for you, you were the only person left in your friend group who didn't find someone, so you decide to have a bit of fun: Why not go in with Sarah? You make a big show of it, throwing your arms up into the air, loudly lamenting that even the fun house mirrors wouldn't be able to make your 'date' look skinny and reconciling that you might have to drag her enormous butt up the stairs just to get out in a reasonable time.

Finally, your time comes and you enter the darkened funhouse, sneering at Sarah as she follows you along silently, cheeks reddened with exhaustion and embarrassment. As you venture into the hall of mirrors, the noise of your dates' labored breathing filling the air, you don't even care enough to look back at her. Instead, you focus your thoughts towards some climatic prank to get one last laugh out of your friends before this is all done.

However, something is a little strange. The funhouse seems a little darker than usual and you could have sworn that you've been walking for what feels like minutes. The mirrors around you only reveal strange silhouettes that you don't recognize whatsoever - weren't you supposed to be at the end by now? Soon enough, your legs begin to ache as if walking uphill, your panting overtaking Sarah's as you press on. With each step accompanied by more and more weight, your legs burn with exhaustion, trembling terribly, like you were carrying Sarah on your back. Soon enough, you were breathing just like her, your chest heaving as you struggle along the unending hallway of twisting mirrors. You hear faint giggling - your giggling - as you struggle on. Dark hair falls into your eyes, you struggle to push it out of your vision with a heavy arm. As your arm slides back to your side, it collides with what must have been your stomach, a quick glance down reveals a dark, rotund shape protruding from your torso. This wasn't right at all. You had to get out of here now.

As if to answer your prayers, you spot the end of the fun house, a twinkling dot of light that seems much too far away. You lurch forward, struggling to fit your enormous thighs beneath your belly, only managing a pathetic, ponderous waddle. The most you do is make yourself sweat like a pig, beads of the salty stuff dripping from your brow, rolling down your round cheeks, and disappearing within your cleavage. A faint, chilling breeze swirls around your body as if it has a life of its own; you feel the bizarre gust of wind press against your parted lips, forcing you to gulp it down. The strange chill settles in your stomach like a stone before dissipating. You feel bloated, cramped, awful. You pause for a moment as pressure and aching begins to stir against your backside; you barely have time to think before unleashing a thunderous, wet fart that echoes off of the halls, the revolting sound and stench making you cringe with embarrassment. You barely have time to gather your thoughts as a raunchy belch rockets up from your throat, leaving you totally breathless as you struggle to comprehend what's going on.

After what felt like ages, you finally step out of the funhouse exit, vision blurred, a pair of high-pitched toots signalling your escape, sweat pouring down your frame like you just ran a marathon. You peer up at your friends, all of them gawking at you along with a face that is just a little too familiar.

"I told you she fell behind, but I didn't think it would take you ten minutes to get out of there you cow!" You hear a voice say - your voice - as you fight to catch your breath. Your tired eyes gaze downward and you finally notice just what had happened to you: You were Sarah, obese and squeezed into that hilariously ill-fitting dress. You open your mouth to protest but a mean look from your old body forces you to stay quiet, a little like Sarah would have reacted. After some uproarious, drunken laughter and a few more mean-spirited jokes, you and your friends were off, your former self making sure to keep the conversation pointed towards how fat you were, the way you couldn't keep up, and how you tried oh-so-desperately to get laid in the fun house. With a face redder than ever before, you decide to fall behind the group, your near-constant gas giving you plenty of reason to stay back there, your only relief being the sting of the cold air against your exposed flesh.

Gathering in the parking lot, your friends make a quick escape to spend the rest of their evening elsewhere, all while your old body loudly proclaims that he will bring you home. With your head pointed downwards, you struggle to ease yourself into your car, Sarah laughing at your pathetic efforts. You finally manage to ease your gigantic ass into the passenger seat, the strain from doing so forcing a loud, rumbling fart out of you. For a moment, Sarah looks concerned but it doesn't last very long.

"W-We're going to back there tomorrow night to see if this can be reversed.." You argue weakly after managing to catch your breath.

"I don't think so, Sarah." He laughs, "Do you really think I'm going to go back to that? I have no idea what happened in there but this is the best thing that's ever happened to me in my life. If you think I'm ever going to back to my mess of a life, you have another thing coming."

You spend the relatively short drive protesting, begging, promising anything to get your old body back but Sarah simply answers with laughter whenever you cut yourself short with a sudden belch or a noisy fart. Whatever happened to you in that funhouse was inexplicably permanent and constant - even Sarah couldn't explain it, not that she cared one bit.

"Your room's on the first floor, get out of here before you stain the seat." Was the last thing he said to you before kicking you out into the cold. 

You waddle into the dingy apartment complex before you as Sarah peels off into the darkness, taking your body, your car, and your life with him as he goes. You feel tears well up in your eyes as you clumsily step down the hall, the occasional sudden fart echoing off the hallways before you finally barge into your new apartment.

 

Peeling off the sweat-soaked dress from your massive frame, you set it on the nearby coffee table with a wet slap so that you could gawk at your enormous body. The dizzying stink of sweat invades your senses within seconds, making you wonder if any of this would ever stop. Your hands slip across your belly, clumsy sausage fingers prodding, weighing, and squeezing at the dimpled flesh - the occasional burble or loud gurgle forcing you to stop for a moment. 

Worse yet is the fact that you were practically like a gross, over-exaggerated parody of a fat chick; your massive, wet farts only seemed to let up whenever you had to vent a nasty belch, and even then that was barely any reprieve. Tears begin to stream down your eyes at the very thought of being trapped in Sarah's body. Your thoughts drift back to the fun house and the strange occurrence there, the way that cold wisp of air invaded your body. With a low, tired sigh, you slowly begin to accept the fact that you would have to live the rest of your life as this enormous, disgusting slob of a woman.