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Think again.

After weighing up the decisions, you decide to drink from the purple bottle. After all, you've been fat before - what's the harm of being fat again? Besides, you can reverse the effects with the orange potion once you're done. You uncork the purple bottle, and drink about a mouthful, just to be safe. You begin changing immediately; your clothes become tighter, and you can actually feel your skin stretching to accommodate the fat that is filling your body. It stops after a few seconds, and you check your weight - 179 kg. That's nowhere near big enough, so you take another mouthful. Of at least, that's what you intend to do - instead, you end up downing the entire bottle. As the last drop disappears down your throat, and you realise what you've done, you begin to swell at an amazing rate. Your already-large gut forces its way out of your shirt and over your belt, and continues to grow past your now-non-existent waistline. The rest of your shirt rips as your chest expands into two huge sacks of fat, which quickly settle into position over your stomach. Your arms and legs swell like balloons, tearing through the last shreds of your clothing, and encasing your limbs in thick tubes of blubber. Your ass explodes (not literally,) outward, forming a huge, distinctive shelf along your back, and almost rivals your belly in size. Your face also grows a great deal, as your chin count triples, then quadruples as the fleshy flaps cascade down your chest. Your cheeks fill, almost like you've stuffed your mouth with food, and soon, your face seems to swim in a sea of fat. All of this happens in the space of a few seconds, and the sudden weight gain sends you flying off balance, slamming into the table and landing with an audible plop on the floor, where you continue to swell for a few more seconds before finally stopping.

You groan and sit up with difficulty, using pieces from the now broken table to prop yourself into a sitting position. You sit there for a few minutes, looking yourself over. Your body is now un-recognisable; not even you can tell that the body you currently have was once yours. Once-muscular limbs are now swamped with excessive amounts of lard, which hangs off in huge folds. The worst offender, your stomach, has anchored itself on top of your legs, and spreads out a least a metre on each side. Your breasts sit on top of it, and they hang over the sides by a good 10 centimetres, making it hard for you to move your arms. Actually, it's pretty to move your body in general, with all this extra poundage. But, somehow, you manage to haul your fat ass off the ground, and waddle over to the scale.

"This'd better be worth it..." You mutter to yourself as the needle spins, before settling on a number: 467. A clicking sound behind you make you turn around (albeit slowly), and you notice that the wall has opened, revealing a passage. You're free to go.

Written by an anonymous author

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