"You want me to help you?" I repeated dumbly.
Seriously, where was all of this coming from? For as long as I could remember, Alice had been this quiet, mousy girl who could barely raise her voice if she tried. I mean yeah, she'd been a lot more confident lately, but this seemed like a hugely out of character moment for her at the time.
"Well yeah, I mean... you're the only person I know who wouldn't think I was a..." Alice shrunk into her shoulder, "...a freak. You know?"
I did know. I remember when I told my roommate back at Buttercombe Academy about my epiphane about my weight, and she just laughed at me (didn't stop that preppy bitch from gaining another fifty pounds that year, though.). I knew I couldn't exactly run around and tell everyone that I got off on being fat, but I distinctly remembered being able to trust Alice. She didn't tell Mom or Dad, and she never brought it up unless I did. She covered for me when I snuck snacks out of the fridge, and always played lookout when I was hiding from Mom.
So why did all of this feel so... weird?
I mean, I wanted to be fat. I wanted to be so big that I couldn't get out of bed. In fact, the very thought of being pinned down under my own blubber, stuffing myself while someone else took care of me was enough to make me physically aroused. But I didn't know if I wanted that for Alice, my sweet little sixteen year old sister.
"Look, Alice..." I started, crumpling up my wrapping paper, "This isn't something to be taken lightly... obviously."
I rolled up my t-shirt over my belly and untucked it from my pajama pants, letting it flop out into the empty space provided by my tree-trunk thighs. It gurgled and churned as it processed my greasy, fast-food breakfast, rounded and a little firmer than it had been this morning. I caressed it with both hands, jostling it in place.
"This? All of this? It's a huge commitment." I said softly, "I'm fat. Really fat. And I'm only gonna get fatter. And I'm okay with it, even knowing that there are all kinds of nasty side-effects. I just don't want you to gain fifty pounds and realize that you hate it."
"I won't." Alice blinked her big blue eyes at me, a familiar fire burning bright behind them, "It's just... I've been trying so hard for so long, and all I have is this little pot-belly."
Alice rolled up her own shirt and showed me the damage. She'd been lugging around this round, swollen belly ever since I got home. It was soft and pale and jiggly. There were other areas of gain too--I noticed Alice wasn't wearing the new jeans she got for Christmas at all. Her hips had put some on too, and I noticed her picking at her bra strap a lot. But more or less, she was right. Alice was definitely belly-heavy.
"You see? All I have is a tummy..." Alice said dejectedly, a hint of desperation in her voice, before she looked back up at me, "You're the best gainer I know... and I'd really appreciate your help."
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