Reunion
Part One
“Hello, welcome to Perfect Weddings for Perfect People. Do you have an appointment?” Nicole asked.
“Yes, I’m Elizabeth Watkins,” replied the short, brunette, nervous looking woman in front of the counter.
“Oh, Elizabeth,” Nicole cooed. “We’ve been expecting you. You’re late by three whole minutes!”
“Sorry,” Elizabeth mumbled.
“Right this way,” Nicole said, leading Elizabeth by the hand. “We’re a full service wedding planning agency. We can get your dress, your caterer, your photographer, your DJ, your bartender, your grounds, your personal assistant, seating chart consultant, flower expert…”
“Are you sure I really need all those people?” she Elizabeth asked, feeling overwhelmed.
Nicole spun around, her eyes icy cold. “Madam, this is Perfect Weddings for Perfect People. We want your day to be as magical and as memorable as possible. Don’t you?”
“I…well, of course,” replied Elizabeth, feeling even more flustered.
“First, let’s get you set on a dress,” Nicole said, leading her towards a large, walk in closet with close to a thousand dresses on a large, rotating conveyer. “Take a look at this binder and let me know what speaks to you,” she said.
“Okay,” Elizabeth said. As soon as she had selected her dress and begun to change, Nicole began to sigh.
“We have some work to do. I’ll be sure to write a note to your personal trainer,” Nicole said, looking down at Elizabeth in her bra and underwear.
“But I don’t have a personal trainer,” Elizabeth protested.
“Honey, you’re going to need one. And that’s another service we provide here at Perfect Weddings,” she said. “Just look at those arms,” Nicole said, grabbing Elizabeth’s wrist, raising it up, and shaking it wildly. Her upper arms quivered a little with excess flab. “And that tummy!” she said, poking the soft, slightly protruding muffin top with her finger, and causing Elizabeth to gasp and wince a little. “You can’t expect to fit into that dress with this figure.”
“I guess not,” Elizabeth replied, looking a little disappointed. Another employee, Janice, started taking Elizabeth’s measurements.
“38-32-34? No, no, no,” Nicole said, once Janice had finished measuring. “I’m a 36-24-36,” Nicole boasted.
“Aren’t I kind of close to that?” Elizabeth asked.
“Trust me, it’s those six inches on your tummy that everyone will be looking at in a form fitting dress,” Nicole said, pulling up her own top. “Look at this flat belly! Don’t let yourself feel happy until you start getting close to this.”
“Alright,” Elizabeth acquiesced, feeling deflated and disgusted with herself.
“Now, let’s look at some décor and catering options,” she said, as Elizabeth put her clothes back on. “Bring out the low-cal entrees,” she said to Becky, who helped prepare the meals and organize different table settings.
Elizabeth flopped down in her chair, and was presented with a small salad. Thin, oddly-shaped green leaves sat under shredded pears and blue-streaked cheese.
“Pear gorgonzola arugula, enjoy,” said Becky.
Elizabeth grabbed a fork and was about to dig in when Nicole interrupted her.
“No, no, no…what are you doing?” Nicole asked. “You’re not a barbarian, are you? That is clearly a dessert fork. You want a salad fork,” she instructed. “Small bites, small bites!” she shouted, as Elizabeth started eating, “A bride always takes a tiny bite, as to minimize the chance that food might smear on her lips. You never know when a picture will be snapped.”
“I’ve got a napkin,” Elizabeth started, her mouth partly full.
“A lady never needs use it,” Nicole said, slapping her hand away.
~
When the day was finished, Nicole had succeeded in signing up Elizabeth for services costing tens of thousands of dollars. Another day of success at Perfect Marriages.
“Janice, you could do something with your hair,” Nicole complained, running her fingers disdainfully through her co-worker’s limp locks. “And Becky, how do you expect to sell people on our food if you’re eating so much of it?” she asked, grabbing her slightly bulging stomach.
“I don’t eat at work,” Becky protested.
“No, you eat double at home to make up for it,” Nicole snapped back, speaking under her breath but loud enough that she knew Becky would hear. “We’re supposed to be perfect, just take some notes on how I do it,” Nicole instructed as she pointed at her own body.
Nicole’s shapely, gorgeous form slowly walked out of the shop, her blonde, impeccably styled hair sashaying just slightly with her graceful walk.
“Ugh, working for her is a nightmare,” Janice complained.
“Sometimes I’m surprised the clients are willing to put up with her,” Becky agreed. “Then again, she’s right. She does look perfect.”
“Mean bitches like her, they only get respect because women want to be them, and men want to be with them,” said Janice.
“Truer words were never spoken,” Becky said. “It’s a shame she’ll never get what’s coming to her.”
~
That night, Nicole stayed out at the clubs a little too long, and had just a tad too much to drink. Her hangover was so bad that her alarm failed to wake her up. When she finally came to, she realized she was nearly late for work – a huge no-no when a big client was arriving, like today.
Nicole frantically tried to get ready. She didn’t have time to shower or eat breakfast. She decided to do her makeup while driving to save more time.
Thanks to her rushing around, by the time she arrived at the office, she was only eight minutes late.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Nicole said, as she spotted her client, a professional woman in her late 30s, wearing a pantsuit.
“I do have a meeting in an hour, so I would appreciate it if we could get to the point as soon as is possible,” she replied.
“Yes, right away…Melanie?” Nicole replied, trying to remember her client’s name.
“Miranda,” the client corrected her.
“Right, sorry. Follow me,” Nicole said, guiding her to the dressing room.
“Hmm…” Miranda began. “What about this one?”
“Sure, sure, let’s try it on,” Nicole urged. As Nicole helped Miranda into the gown, she pulled a little too vigorously on the sleeve, causing a slight tear.
“Want to go taste some of our catering options?” Nicole suggested, hoping Miranda wouldn’t look too closely at the dress. After a tension filled moment of hesitation, Miranda agreed.
“This is a good duck a l’orange,” Miranda admitted, after pecking at it with near microscopic bites.
“Then you’re going to love this mint dipping sauce, it’s just divine,” Nicole said.
“Really, I’m fine…” Miranda tried to protest.
“Nonsense, I insist,” she said, waiving her hand encouragingly. Just then, though, Becky was stepping behind to her to bring in the cause. Nicole’s hand smacked right into it, and both she and Miranda were hit by the flying, green paste.
“Unbelievable!” Miranda exclaimed. “And after I said I didn’t even want the tacky sauce.”
“I’m so sorry,” Nicole exclaimed, grabbing a cloth napkin to engage in the futile task of removing the sauce from her client’s dress.
“I held my tongue when you needlessly tore the sleeve of that dress, but this is unacceptable. Good day,” she said as she rose and swiftly exited the establishment.
Just as Nicole pulled herself to her feet, the door swung back open.
“John Altmire, what a pleasant surprise,” Nicole said nervously.
“Nicole – you are responsible for this? I don’t believe it!” John bellowed. “You’ve always been a favorite of mine, but this is beyond the pale. You’re suspended without pay, effective immediately,” he concluded.
“But…for how long?” she asked, trembling.
“Until we can see if we can do well enough without you,” John said. “Now go.”
~
For the first few days, Nicole checked her email every morning, hoping John would invite her back. Then, slowly accepting the reality that it might not happen, she started to send out her resume to other wedding planning agencies. For a week or two, she continued to check her email, hoping for a reply from one of them.
When these did not come either, Nicole finally started getting up and heading right for the kitchen. Her snafu at work had left her with a bad taste in her both for the gourmet, so her meals were often simple affairs. Crackers with cheese wiz, entire jars of pickles, and flaming cheetohs were some of her mainstays. Why bother holding back, she reasoned, if she wasn’t looking good for anyone anymore?
Her days were spent on marathon TV binges, with her favorite shows being wedding shows. Shows like ‘Bridezilla’ made fun of the people she used to cater to, and could always be counted on to produce a few belly laughs. ‘Bulging Brides’ was another favorite, and Nicole loved to watch chubby brides to be running their asses off and forcing down paltry salads while she gorged herself on boxes of donuts and pizza.
Most of Nicole’s friends were employees or related to clients, so her social calendar quickly emptied. At first, she was convinced she’d re-fill it in no time once she re-connected with the wedding planning world, so she made little effort to try to meet new people.
Since she knew nobody was coming to visit, she didn’t bother to clean up after herself nearly as much. When a bag of chips was empty, she just left it there on the couch next to her. And why bother vacuuming, she reasoned, when she was planning on dusting the carpet with more crumbs the next day. It was waste of electricity, she thought to herself as she attempted to rationalize her laziness.
By the same token, why should she rack up the water bill showing every day if she wasn’t leaving the house? Every other day should be sufficient, she thought. Or at least, whenever she felt she smelled bad. Whichever came later.
Once the dirty dishes and piles of junk food wrappers were piled up, and once her pristine appearance decayed into smelliness and slovenliness, she had further reasons for not wanting to invite her friends over. She knew she had become the kind of person she wouldn’t want to visit, herself.
~
Nicole’s lightning fast metabolism was always her saving grace. In high school, she never had to diet or throw up her food. Unlike her other cheerleaders, she had managed to stay thin without an once of willpower.
Now, though, that fast metabolism was being put to the test. A confluence of several factors was working to override her natural skinniness. Nicole was older than she was in high school, and age never helps a metabolism. Losing her job, her friends, and her pride had caused her a great deal of stress, and stress hormones often cause weight gain. Her couch potato lifestyle included a lot less exercise than cheerleading practice; in fact, many days the only exercise she did at all was getting up to walk to the fridge. And those fridge raiding habits weren’t doing her any favors, either. No longer willing to walk to the farmer’s market to pick up fresh produce, she instead bought boxes of donuts from a local gas station.
Every night when Nicole fell asleep, she did so with smears of grease, icing, and sprinkles on her lips, cheeks, and fingers. Each item of clothing she owned slowly became stained with a smudge of chocolate or an errant drop of pickle juice. She no longer felt ashamed by her bodily functions, and dropped all attempts to hold in her burps or farts.
It didn’t take too long for Nicole’s perfect storm of bad habits to destroy her waistline. Her flat tummy bloated and expanded, ripening into a wobbly muffin top and then into a large, proud pot belly. Her normal shirts no longer fit, so Nicole switched to wearing her workout tank tops, which rode high on her and exposed her growing tummy and deepening belly button at all times. It stuck out even further after each binge, as if giving her a preview of the weight gain still to come.
The rest of her body was spared either. Her toned, slender arms expanded and became husky and beefy looking, while her shoulders grow rounder and her back gained a roll or two. Her thighs swelled in size, gaining a little cellulite in the back and jiggling a little with every step. Her breasts went up several cup sizes, though they lost a little of their perkiness. Nicole was unable to contain them in any of her bras, so she had to go around her house braless.
~
Part Two
Nicole was lying asleep on the couch, slumbering deeply and snoring loudly when the phone rang. It took several rings to finally rouse her. When she squinted and saw that the caller ID was from work, she could barely believe it.
“Hello?” she asked cautiously.
“Nicole, we need you to come in today. The woman we got to replace you has called in sick – food poisoning, and we need help setting up a wedding right now,” said John Altmire. “We can’t make it with our current staff, and this is an important client.”
“Hm,” Nicole said, pausing for effect. “Well, I’m already at another firm and can’t just take the day off for you,” she began.
“We’ll do anything. I’ll pay you triple your normal daily salary for this one day’s work,” John offered.
“Not good enough,” Nicole insisted. “If you want me back, you’ll have to give me my old job back, too.”
“…fine,” John agreed. “If you can make this wedding happen without a snag, you’re back.”
“And at a five percent raise,” Nicole added, a little smirk on her face.
“What? This is outrageous. I’ll call someone else,” John shouted back.
“Good luck with that,” Nicole began. “I’m hanging up now…” she said, fully aware that if they were calling her, she was already their last resort.
“No, no, I’ll do it,” John agreed. “Just be here as quick as you can.”
Nicole hung up the phone, feeling very pleased with her bargaining techniques – at least, for a few seconds. Then she remembered her situation – she had nothing to wear, she was fat and out of shape, and she hadn’t showered in nearly a week! It would take her an hour at least to get ready, and another hour to pick up new clothes – not that she even knew where to shop for sizes that would fit her new, expanded frame.
Panic set in, and Nicole did the only thing she had continued herself to do: she started eating. She was halfway through a roll of raw cookie dough before she pulled herself together and glanced at her watch. She threw on whatever formal-ish clothes would fit and rushed out toward the event. She didn’t realize that the clothes were stained, and she hadn’t bothered to shower either.
The wedding was an outdoor venue with tall pines dotting the rim of a majestic lake. Nature’s beauty, however, was not enough for this particular bride. When Nicole arrived, she saw a vast array of balloons, banners, and tinsel being splayed everywhere. When she got out of her car, Becky and Janice were waiting for her.
“Ugh, what's that smell?” Becky asked before Nicole was even in view. “It's like a nasty gym locker or something.”
“Nice outfit,” Janice said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Is that stain part of your new ‘grundge’ look?”
“I love what you haven’t done with you hair,” Becky said.
“Oh, shut up, I’m just here to work,” said Nicole, who soon turned and walked away, her huge ass quivering with every step. Her butt crack couldn’t be completely contained by her too-small pants, and peeked through the top.
“Are you sure you aren’t here for a buffet?” Becky asked, and she and Janice laughed as Nicole walked off. As she walked, she let out a squeaky fart, which caused Becky and Janice to laugh even harder.
“Glad you could make it, we really…uh…” John began, his voice trailing off as he got a better look at Nicole’s disheveled appearance and expanded girth.
“What do you need me to do, sir?” she asked.
“Just, uh, help with the decorations,” he said, hoping she’d stay out of sight. Soon, she was being asked to help tie the banners from the tops of the trees.
The tree branches weren’t easily accessible, so instead the wedding had relied on a series of tall, rickety looking ladders. Nicole, who had always prided herself on being lithe and coordinated, was unable to face the reality that putting her new, blubbery body up onto the ladder might be a bad idea.
With each step, the ladder shook, and Nicole slowly began to realize she might be in trouble. Still, she climbed further, and cheered with jubilation when she reached the top. As she leaned in to affix the end of the ribbon to the top of the tree, her heavy weight caused the ladder to sway forwards.
Nicole suddenly felt her weight swaying towards the ground, and grabbed the only thing she could find: the end of the banner. She flew forwards, the banner acting as a rope swing as she hurtled towards the lake.
The bride, meanwhile, was just arriving, taking her first tentative steps out of her limousine, next to the water. A few seconds later, Nicole swung past her, pulling down the rest of the banners and landing in the lake with a resounding splash.
The bride was soaked, and began to scream. All the guests and the rest of the staff headed to the edge of the water, hoping to see who had caused the disaster.
A telltale trickle of bubbles emerged from the water, as the shock of the splash caused Nicole to lose control of her flatulence. When her head finally bobbed up, she saw the whole crowd pointing and laughing at her, with her former co-workers laughing hardest of all. The bride was still screaming, while John was just shaking his head.
Nicole, embarrassed and humiliated, quickly drove home. Before she walked inside, she checked her mailbox. Inside was an invitation to her high school reunion the next day. Why not, she thought? It’s not like it could be any worse than today…
Part Three
It’s a fact that as time goes by, the attendance of high school reunions drops off. People move away, they lose interest, or die.
That’s why the fist reunion is always the most important to attend. If that one is skipped, the most important people might be missed next time.
The five year reunion of North Hills High was certainly no exception to this rule. All of the important movers and shakers from five years ago were there, along with the familiar punching bags and butts of jokes.
Eric Lastrade, high school quarterback, was there. A knee injury had cut short his football career just before NFL tryouts, but he was doing well as a personal trainer. Amy Gundrerson, cheerleader and “most likely to succeed,” was in law school, though it was a lower-tier university. Neil Mickelwhite and Sally Morsha, two of the biggest nerds in school, had married done particularly well. Sally was working as a translator for a Japanese animation company and Neil had recently sold his app development company in a multimillion dollar deal.
Only one person of great prominence seemed to be missing: Nicole, the head cheerleader. Blonde, slender, leggy, and gorgeous, she was the wet dream of every boy and envy of every girl on campus. Her good looks provided her with the ability to be heartless to everyone around her and still be revered.
Nicole’s absence only furthered gossip about her. Was she away on a modeling shoot? Was she travelling the world with a rich husband? Was she auditioning for a TV show? Had she become “too big” to return to her home town?
When Nicole finally did enter the door of the reunion hall, the last question proved to be half-right. She was indeed too big, but that didn’t stop her from coming back home.
Nicole looked so different that she was nearly unrecognizable. She had put on a good 80 pounds, gaining a chubby face with a greasy double chin, flabby arms, and big tits which sagged and flopped over onto the sides of her stomach. Her tummy jutted out in front of her, exposing her deep belly button and pouring over the sides of her shorts in a huge, embarrassing muffin top. She didn’t even have matching shoes, wearing two different sneakers, both of which were crushed with mud and orange specks that looked like the dust from some kind of messy snack.
“Nicole?” Eric asked, being the first one to recognize her.
“Eric, so nice to see you,” she said, smiling weakly.
“My god, you look different,” he said. He eyed her ill-fitting clothes, which were stained, mismatched, and frayed by the stress of holding in her flabby girth. “To think you were my first crush, how the mighty have fallen.”
“Hey, I’m still sexy,” Nicole said, trying to flick her fingers through her dirty, tangled hair and wiggle her hips. Eric just laughed.
“I haven’t forgotten. You were my first love, and you slept with my stepdad. And then you laughed when I cried about it, saying I was an idiot for thinking you really cared about me,” Eric said.
Nicole looked down at her feet, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Who’s the crybaby now?” Eric asked. “Hey, guys, come over here! You have to see Nicole!”
“Nicole, no way!” Amy shouted. “I remember when you stole my boyfriend, just because he was the only guy I liked and you wanted to show me who was head cheerleader. I think my current BF is safe now,” she said with a laugh.
“I can still turn a head or two,” Nicole said defensively.
“I’m sure you do. I’m sure people want to stare, like looking at a car wreck. And I remember when you were so proud of your makeup, you even had to redo mine before we practiced. What do you have on your face now?” she asked. Nicole’s face was greasy and had makeup smeared on it haphazardly. It did nothing to cover up the pimples on her face.
“Is that really her?” Neil asked.
“I don’t believe it!” Sally shouted.
“Do you remember when you asked me out to a private picnic, then had me wait in the woods all night, just so you could laugh at me the next day?” Neil said. “I never forgot.”
“I remember when you poured milk over my head and called me a cow,” Sally said. “This is irony for you!”
“I’m not a cow,” Nicole said, but then couldn’t help but letting out a fart. This only elicited more laughter.
“Smelly farts like a cow too,” Sally said. “And her BO is terrible,” she added, after getting closer and giving her a good sniff. “That could make cheese turn blue,” she added, making a gagging noise.
Nicole turned to run out, but her natural grace as a cheerleader was gone. Instead, she wobbled forwards, crashing into a chair and falling over.
“How pathetic,” Neil said, seeing that she had managed to fall into a plate of chips and dip. Everyone’s giggles only intensified.
“Here, have some cream,” Sally said, grabbing the pitcher from the coffee station and pouring it over Nicole’s head. Everyone cheered and hooted, and Sally received several high fives from popular people who never would have given her the time of day in high school.
“What happened to you, Nicole?” Eric finally said, after all the laughing had died done. “Were you cursed, or something?”
“Just shut up,” she said, as she crawled to her feet and ran out of the reunion hall.
“Hello, welcome to Perfect Weddings for Perfect People. Do you have an appointment?” Nicole asked.
“Yes, I’m Elizabeth Watkins,” replied the short, brunette, nervous looking woman in front of the counter.
“Oh, Elizabeth,” Nicole cooed. “We’ve been expecting you. You’re late by three whole minutes!”
“Sorry,” Elizabeth mumbled.
“Right this way,” Nicole said, leading Elizabeth by the hand. “We’re a full service wedding planning agency. We can get your dress, your caterer, your photographer, your DJ, your bartender, your grounds, your personal assistant, seating chart consultant, flower expert…”
“Are you sure I really need all those people?” she Elizabeth asked, feeling overwhelmed.
Nicole spun around, her eyes icy cold. “Madam, this is Perfect Weddings for Perfect People. We want your day to be as magical and as memorable as possible. Don’t you?”
“I…well, of course,” replied Elizabeth, feeling even more flustered.
“First, let’s get you set on a dress,” Nicole said, leading her towards a large, walk in closet with close to a thousand dresses on a large, rotating conveyer. “Take a look at this binder and let me know what speaks to you,” she said.
“Okay,” Elizabeth said. As soon as she had selected her dress and begun to change, Nicole began to sigh.
“We have some work to do. I’ll be sure to write a note to your personal trainer,” Nicole said, looking down at Elizabeth in her bra and underwear.
“But I don’t have a personal trainer,” Elizabeth protested.
“Honey, you’re going to need one. And that’s another service we provide here at Perfect Weddings,” she said. “Just look at those arms,” Nicole said, grabbing Elizabeth’s wrist, raising it up, and shaking it wildly. Her upper arms quivered a little with excess flab. “And that tummy!” she said, poking the soft, slightly protruding muffin top with her finger, and causing Elizabeth to gasp and wince a little. “You can’t expect to fit into that dress with this figure.”
“I guess not,” Elizabeth replied, looking a little disappointed. Another employee, Janice, started taking Elizabeth’s measurements.
“38-32-34? No, no, no,” Nicole said, once Janice had finished measuring. “I’m a 36-24-36,” Nicole boasted.
“Aren’t I kind of close to that?” Elizabeth asked.
“Trust me, it’s those six inches on your tummy that everyone will be looking at in a form fitting dress,” Nicole said, pulling up her own top. “Look at this flat belly! Don’t let yourself feel happy until you start getting close to this.”
“Alright,” Elizabeth acquiesced, feeling deflated and disgusted with herself.
“Now, let’s look at some décor and catering options,” she said, as Elizabeth put her clothes back on. “Bring out the low-cal entrees,” she said to Becky, who helped prepare the meals and organize different table settings.
Elizabeth flopped down in her chair, and was presented with a small salad. Thin, oddly-shaped green leaves sat under shredded pears and blue-streaked cheese.
“Pear gorgonzola arugula, enjoy,” said Becky.
Elizabeth grabbed a fork and was about to dig in when Nicole interrupted her.
“No, no, no…what are you doing?” Nicole asked. “You’re not a barbarian, are you? That is clearly a dessert fork. You want a salad fork,” she instructed. “Small bites, small bites!” she shouted, as Elizabeth started eating, “A bride always takes a tiny bite, as to minimize the chance that food might smear on her lips. You never know when a picture will be snapped.”
“I’ve got a napkin,” Elizabeth started, her mouth partly full.
“A lady never needs use it,” Nicole said, slapping her hand away.
~
When the day was finished, Nicole had succeeded in signing up Elizabeth for services costing tens of thousands of dollars. Another day of success at Perfect Marriages.
“Janice, you could do something with your hair,” Nicole complained, running her fingers disdainfully through her co-worker’s limp locks. “And Becky, how do you expect to sell people on our food if you’re eating so much of it?” she asked, grabbing her slightly bulging stomach.
“I don’t eat at work,” Becky protested.
“No, you eat double at home to make up for it,” Nicole snapped back, speaking under her breath but loud enough that she knew Becky would hear. “We’re supposed to be perfect, just take some notes on how I do it,” Nicole instructed as she pointed at her own body.
Nicole’s shapely, gorgeous form slowly walked out of the shop, her blonde, impeccably styled hair sashaying just slightly with her graceful walk.
“Ugh, working for her is a nightmare,” Janice complained.
“Sometimes I’m surprised the clients are willing to put up with her,” Becky agreed. “Then again, she’s right. She does look perfect.”
“Mean bitches like her, they only get respect because women want to be them, and men want to be with them,” said Janice.
“Truer words were never spoken,” Becky said. “It’s a shame she’ll never get what’s coming to her.”
~
That night, Nicole stayed out at the clubs a little too long, and had just a tad too much to drink. Her hangover was so bad that her alarm failed to wake her up. When she finally came to, she realized she was nearly late for work – a huge no-no when a big client was arriving, like today.
Nicole frantically tried to get ready. She didn’t have time to shower or eat breakfast. She decided to do her makeup while driving to save more time.
Thanks to her rushing around, by the time she arrived at the office, she was only eight minutes late.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Nicole said, as she spotted her client, a professional woman in her late 30s, wearing a pantsuit.
“I do have a meeting in an hour, so I would appreciate it if we could get to the point as soon as is possible,” she replied.
“Yes, right away…Melanie?” Nicole replied, trying to remember her client’s name.
“Miranda,” the client corrected her.
“Right, sorry. Follow me,” Nicole said, guiding her to the dressing room.
“Hmm…” Miranda began. “What about this one?”
“Sure, sure, let’s try it on,” Nicole urged. As Nicole helped Miranda into the gown, she pulled a little too vigorously on the sleeve, causing a slight tear.
“Want to go taste some of our catering options?” Nicole suggested, hoping Miranda wouldn’t look too closely at the dress. After a tension filled moment of hesitation, Miranda agreed.
“This is a good duck a l’orange,” Miranda admitted, after pecking at it with near microscopic bites.
“Then you’re going to love this mint dipping sauce, it’s just divine,” Nicole said.
“Really, I’m fine…” Miranda tried to protest.
“Nonsense, I insist,” she said, waiving her hand encouragingly. Just then, though, Becky was stepping behind to her to bring in the cause. Nicole’s hand smacked right into it, and both she and Miranda were hit by the flying, green paste.
“Unbelievable!” Miranda exclaimed. “And after I said I didn’t even want the tacky sauce.”
“I’m so sorry,” Nicole exclaimed, grabbing a cloth napkin to engage in the futile task of removing the sauce from her client’s dress.
“I held my tongue when you needlessly tore the sleeve of that dress, but this is unacceptable. Good day,” she said as she rose and swiftly exited the establishment.
Just as Nicole pulled herself to her feet, the door swung back open.
“John Altmire, what a pleasant surprise,” Nicole said nervously.
“Nicole – you are responsible for this? I don’t believe it!” John bellowed. “You’ve always been a favorite of mine, but this is beyond the pale. You’re suspended without pay, effective immediately,” he concluded.
“But…for how long?” she asked, trembling.
“Until we can see if we can do well enough without you,” John said. “Now go.”
~
For the first few days, Nicole checked her email every morning, hoping John would invite her back. Then, slowly accepting the reality that it might not happen, she started to send out her resume to other wedding planning agencies. For a week or two, she continued to check her email, hoping for a reply from one of them.
When these did not come either, Nicole finally started getting up and heading right for the kitchen. Her snafu at work had left her with a bad taste in her both for the gourmet, so her meals were often simple affairs. Crackers with cheese wiz, entire jars of pickles, and flaming cheetohs were some of her mainstays. Why bother holding back, she reasoned, if she wasn’t looking good for anyone anymore?
Her days were spent on marathon TV binges, with her favorite shows being wedding shows. Shows like ‘Bridezilla’ made fun of the people she used to cater to, and could always be counted on to produce a few belly laughs. ‘Bulging Brides’ was another favorite, and Nicole loved to watch chubby brides to be running their asses off and forcing down paltry salads while she gorged herself on boxes of donuts and pizza.
Most of Nicole’s friends were employees or related to clients, so her social calendar quickly emptied. At first, she was convinced she’d re-fill it in no time once she re-connected with the wedding planning world, so she made little effort to try to meet new people.
Since she knew nobody was coming to visit, she didn’t bother to clean up after herself nearly as much. When a bag of chips was empty, she just left it there on the couch next to her. And why bother vacuuming, she reasoned, when she was planning on dusting the carpet with more crumbs the next day. It was waste of electricity, she thought to herself as she attempted to rationalize her laziness.
By the same token, why should she rack up the water bill showing every day if she wasn’t leaving the house? Every other day should be sufficient, she thought. Or at least, whenever she felt she smelled bad. Whichever came later.
Once the dirty dishes and piles of junk food wrappers were piled up, and once her pristine appearance decayed into smelliness and slovenliness, she had further reasons for not wanting to invite her friends over. She knew she had become the kind of person she wouldn’t want to visit, herself.
~
Nicole’s lightning fast metabolism was always her saving grace. In high school, she never had to diet or throw up her food. Unlike her other cheerleaders, she had managed to stay thin without an once of willpower.
Now, though, that fast metabolism was being put to the test. A confluence of several factors was working to override her natural skinniness. Nicole was older than she was in high school, and age never helps a metabolism. Losing her job, her friends, and her pride had caused her a great deal of stress, and stress hormones often cause weight gain. Her couch potato lifestyle included a lot less exercise than cheerleading practice; in fact, many days the only exercise she did at all was getting up to walk to the fridge. And those fridge raiding habits weren’t doing her any favors, either. No longer willing to walk to the farmer’s market to pick up fresh produce, she instead bought boxes of donuts from a local gas station.
Every night when Nicole fell asleep, she did so with smears of grease, icing, and sprinkles on her lips, cheeks, and fingers. Each item of clothing she owned slowly became stained with a smudge of chocolate or an errant drop of pickle juice. She no longer felt ashamed by her bodily functions, and dropped all attempts to hold in her burps or farts.
It didn’t take too long for Nicole’s perfect storm of bad habits to destroy her waistline. Her flat tummy bloated and expanded, ripening into a wobbly muffin top and then into a large, proud pot belly. Her normal shirts no longer fit, so Nicole switched to wearing her workout tank tops, which rode high on her and exposed her growing tummy and deepening belly button at all times. It stuck out even further after each binge, as if giving her a preview of the weight gain still to come.
The rest of her body was spared either. Her toned, slender arms expanded and became husky and beefy looking, while her shoulders grow rounder and her back gained a roll or two. Her thighs swelled in size, gaining a little cellulite in the back and jiggling a little with every step. Her breasts went up several cup sizes, though they lost a little of their perkiness. Nicole was unable to contain them in any of her bras, so she had to go around her house braless.
~
Part Two
Nicole was lying asleep on the couch, slumbering deeply and snoring loudly when the phone rang. It took several rings to finally rouse her. When she squinted and saw that the caller ID was from work, she could barely believe it.
“Hello?” she asked cautiously.
“Nicole, we need you to come in today. The woman we got to replace you has called in sick – food poisoning, and we need help setting up a wedding right now,” said John Altmire. “We can’t make it with our current staff, and this is an important client.”
“Hm,” Nicole said, pausing for effect. “Well, I’m already at another firm and can’t just take the day off for you,” she began.
“We’ll do anything. I’ll pay you triple your normal daily salary for this one day’s work,” John offered.
“Not good enough,” Nicole insisted. “If you want me back, you’ll have to give me my old job back, too.”
“…fine,” John agreed. “If you can make this wedding happen without a snag, you’re back.”
“And at a five percent raise,” Nicole added, a little smirk on her face.
“What? This is outrageous. I’ll call someone else,” John shouted back.
“Good luck with that,” Nicole began. “I’m hanging up now…” she said, fully aware that if they were calling her, she was already their last resort.
“No, no, I’ll do it,” John agreed. “Just be here as quick as you can.”
Nicole hung up the phone, feeling very pleased with her bargaining techniques – at least, for a few seconds. Then she remembered her situation – she had nothing to wear, she was fat and out of shape, and she hadn’t showered in nearly a week! It would take her an hour at least to get ready, and another hour to pick up new clothes – not that she even knew where to shop for sizes that would fit her new, expanded frame.
Panic set in, and Nicole did the only thing she had continued herself to do: she started eating. She was halfway through a roll of raw cookie dough before she pulled herself together and glanced at her watch. She threw on whatever formal-ish clothes would fit and rushed out toward the event. She didn’t realize that the clothes were stained, and she hadn’t bothered to shower either.
The wedding was an outdoor venue with tall pines dotting the rim of a majestic lake. Nature’s beauty, however, was not enough for this particular bride. When Nicole arrived, she saw a vast array of balloons, banners, and tinsel being splayed everywhere. When she got out of her car, Becky and Janice were waiting for her.
“Ugh, what's that smell?” Becky asked before Nicole was even in view. “It's like a nasty gym locker or something.”
“Nice outfit,” Janice said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Is that stain part of your new ‘grundge’ look?”
“I love what you haven’t done with you hair,” Becky said.
“Oh, shut up, I’m just here to work,” said Nicole, who soon turned and walked away, her huge ass quivering with every step. Her butt crack couldn’t be completely contained by her too-small pants, and peeked through the top.
“Are you sure you aren’t here for a buffet?” Becky asked, and she and Janice laughed as Nicole walked off. As she walked, she let out a squeaky fart, which caused Becky and Janice to laugh even harder.
“Glad you could make it, we really…uh…” John began, his voice trailing off as he got a better look at Nicole’s disheveled appearance and expanded girth.
“What do you need me to do, sir?” she asked.
“Just, uh, help with the decorations,” he said, hoping she’d stay out of sight. Soon, she was being asked to help tie the banners from the tops of the trees.
The tree branches weren’t easily accessible, so instead the wedding had relied on a series of tall, rickety looking ladders. Nicole, who had always prided herself on being lithe and coordinated, was unable to face the reality that putting her new, blubbery body up onto the ladder might be a bad idea.
With each step, the ladder shook, and Nicole slowly began to realize she might be in trouble. Still, she climbed further, and cheered with jubilation when she reached the top. As she leaned in to affix the end of the ribbon to the top of the tree, her heavy weight caused the ladder to sway forwards.
Nicole suddenly felt her weight swaying towards the ground, and grabbed the only thing she could find: the end of the banner. She flew forwards, the banner acting as a rope swing as she hurtled towards the lake.
The bride, meanwhile, was just arriving, taking her first tentative steps out of her limousine, next to the water. A few seconds later, Nicole swung past her, pulling down the rest of the banners and landing in the lake with a resounding splash.
The bride was soaked, and began to scream. All the guests and the rest of the staff headed to the edge of the water, hoping to see who had caused the disaster.
A telltale trickle of bubbles emerged from the water, as the shock of the splash caused Nicole to lose control of her flatulence. When her head finally bobbed up, she saw the whole crowd pointing and laughing at her, with her former co-workers laughing hardest of all. The bride was still screaming, while John was just shaking his head.
Nicole, embarrassed and humiliated, quickly drove home. Before she walked inside, she checked her mailbox. Inside was an invitation to her high school reunion the next day. Why not, she thought? It’s not like it could be any worse than today…
Part Three
It’s a fact that as time goes by, the attendance of high school reunions drops off. People move away, they lose interest, or die.
That’s why the fist reunion is always the most important to attend. If that one is skipped, the most important people might be missed next time.
The five year reunion of North Hills High was certainly no exception to this rule. All of the important movers and shakers from five years ago were there, along with the familiar punching bags and butts of jokes.
Eric Lastrade, high school quarterback, was there. A knee injury had cut short his football career just before NFL tryouts, but he was doing well as a personal trainer. Amy Gundrerson, cheerleader and “most likely to succeed,” was in law school, though it was a lower-tier university. Neil Mickelwhite and Sally Morsha, two of the biggest nerds in school, had married done particularly well. Sally was working as a translator for a Japanese animation company and Neil had recently sold his app development company in a multimillion dollar deal.
Only one person of great prominence seemed to be missing: Nicole, the head cheerleader. Blonde, slender, leggy, and gorgeous, she was the wet dream of every boy and envy of every girl on campus. Her good looks provided her with the ability to be heartless to everyone around her and still be revered.
Nicole’s absence only furthered gossip about her. Was she away on a modeling shoot? Was she travelling the world with a rich husband? Was she auditioning for a TV show? Had she become “too big” to return to her home town?
When Nicole finally did enter the door of the reunion hall, the last question proved to be half-right. She was indeed too big, but that didn’t stop her from coming back home.
Nicole looked so different that she was nearly unrecognizable. She had put on a good 80 pounds, gaining a chubby face with a greasy double chin, flabby arms, and big tits which sagged and flopped over onto the sides of her stomach. Her tummy jutted out in front of her, exposing her deep belly button and pouring over the sides of her shorts in a huge, embarrassing muffin top. She didn’t even have matching shoes, wearing two different sneakers, both of which were crushed with mud and orange specks that looked like the dust from some kind of messy snack.
“Nicole?” Eric asked, being the first one to recognize her.
“Eric, so nice to see you,” she said, smiling weakly.
“My god, you look different,” he said. He eyed her ill-fitting clothes, which were stained, mismatched, and frayed by the stress of holding in her flabby girth. “To think you were my first crush, how the mighty have fallen.”
“Hey, I’m still sexy,” Nicole said, trying to flick her fingers through her dirty, tangled hair and wiggle her hips. Eric just laughed.
“I haven’t forgotten. You were my first love, and you slept with my stepdad. And then you laughed when I cried about it, saying I was an idiot for thinking you really cared about me,” Eric said.
Nicole looked down at her feet, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Who’s the crybaby now?” Eric asked. “Hey, guys, come over here! You have to see Nicole!”
“Nicole, no way!” Amy shouted. “I remember when you stole my boyfriend, just because he was the only guy I liked and you wanted to show me who was head cheerleader. I think my current BF is safe now,” she said with a laugh.
“I can still turn a head or two,” Nicole said defensively.
“I’m sure you do. I’m sure people want to stare, like looking at a car wreck. And I remember when you were so proud of your makeup, you even had to redo mine before we practiced. What do you have on your face now?” she asked. Nicole’s face was greasy and had makeup smeared on it haphazardly. It did nothing to cover up the pimples on her face.
“Is that really her?” Neil asked.
“I don’t believe it!” Sally shouted.
“Do you remember when you asked me out to a private picnic, then had me wait in the woods all night, just so you could laugh at me the next day?” Neil said. “I never forgot.”
“I remember when you poured milk over my head and called me a cow,” Sally said. “This is irony for you!”
“I’m not a cow,” Nicole said, but then couldn’t help but letting out a fart. This only elicited more laughter.
“Smelly farts like a cow too,” Sally said. “And her BO is terrible,” she added, after getting closer and giving her a good sniff. “That could make cheese turn blue,” she added, making a gagging noise.
Nicole turned to run out, but her natural grace as a cheerleader was gone. Instead, she wobbled forwards, crashing into a chair and falling over.
“How pathetic,” Neil said, seeing that she had managed to fall into a plate of chips and dip. Everyone’s giggles only intensified.
“Here, have some cream,” Sally said, grabbing the pitcher from the coffee station and pouring it over Nicole’s head. Everyone cheered and hooted, and Sally received several high fives from popular people who never would have given her the time of day in high school.
“What happened to you, Nicole?” Eric finally said, after all the laughing had died done. “Were you cursed, or something?”
“Just shut up,” she said, as she crawled to her feet and ran out of the reunion hall.