Resignation.

You've tried everything you can think of, tearing up the photos, taking another photo, reversing them, and destroying the camera doesn't work. Honestly, what else can you do? And even if you could, what's to say the next thing won't come around and you end up like this again, and again, and again. The universe seems to have spoken, that no matter what you do, your going to end up like this regardless. So why are you still trying. You waddle to the stairs, intent on just going to bed. The entire day has gone by and it's dark out, and you're probably sitting at 800 lbs or more.

As you lift your legs, you feel your sides hit the wall and the banister, and realize you've gotten to fat to ascend it without possibly getting stuck. Groaning, you turn and lumber over to the coach, and sit down, feeling the groan of wood in turn, echoing your own sentiment. You are depressed, and if not for already feeling stuffed, you would have grabbed snacks, but as it is, you just want to sit here and wait for Albert and Fred to get back. The reception will probably go on till late, and who knows how big you'll be by the time they get back. Not that it matters, you may as well get used to this.

***

You don't know when you fell asleep, though considering how easily it happens now it comes as no surprise. You wake up on the couch and light streaming in the windows. You look down, and see the expanse of your stomach hanging off the couch. You sigh, and try to get up, fighting gravity, and having to rock back and forth to shift yourself forward. You clothes are still intact, but by now the shirt is more or less just laying on you, the majority of your stomach uncovered by it. Feeling your cheeks, you find wobbling balls that fill your hands, merging into the massive tire of a chin eclipsing your features. Taking a few steps, you find yourself out of breath and panting as you make your way to the mirror again.

Sure enough, you barely recognize yourself, having grown into a fat blob. From experience you know you won't fit through most doors, cars are out of the question unless it's in the bed of a truck. Welcome to the rest of your life, you think sadly to yourself, resigning yourself to the fact that there is nothing you can do. Strange though. Albert and Fred never came to get you, or at least, they didn't wake you up. Where are they?

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