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.