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grubasek12345 · 6 years

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The Family Curse, Pt. 1

I had heard the family legend before:

“Long ago when your great grandfather, Chester, lived in China, he affair with his friend’s wife. Her husband was sneaky, and instead of getting direct revenge on your grandfather, he decided to have him over for a cup of tea.” This is where my late grandmother would get very serious. “One cup turned into three and Chester started to feel very strange. He started to get very hot and sweat through all his clothes in a matter of minutes.

‘I thought about having you killed,’ the man said. ‘Instead, I invited you over for tea. This tea will curse the men of your family for generations to come. They will know of your betrayal.’ Afraid of what might happen, Chester left for America and brought up a family here, in Connecticut. Things seemed normal enough until his wife, Jessica, became pregnant. As her baby grew, so did he. It seemed for every pound she gained, he would grow five times more. He became addicted to food and got very fat, growing a huge belly. Chester soon didn’t leave home, forcing Jessica to work to support her growing baby, Phillip and now growing husband. His growth stopped when Phillip was two years old, weighting in over three-hundred-seventy-five pounds.”

“So, he got fat because great grandma Jess got pregnant?” I remembered asking her at a young age.

“Well, that’s what she thought. That was until she gave birth to two more sons, your great uncles Craig and Henry. Once Phillip turned sixteen, she noticed the changes the family is now accustomed to. First, his plate sizes increased from larger helpings on a plate to two or three plates of dinner. His snacking would then increase, until he was practically eating all day. By the time he turned eighteen he was one hundred fifty pounds heavier, and just when she thought it was a coincidence, Craig turned sixteen and the changes began. She watched helplessly as Phillip and Craig grew fast and without pause, knowing Henry was soon to follow. Soon all three were growing just as their father did. Once they hit three-fifty, the growing stopped. Then they had sons who would grow also and so on and so forth.”

“Is that why dad is fat too?”

“Yes, he took after your grandpa Phillip. I knew I couldn’t stop it, so I did what I could. Learned to hem and sew so I could alter his clothes as he grew. Your mother will have to do the same when your time has come.”

Well, eleven years later and the time has come, if the legend is indeed true. We could just have shitty jeans that make us fat. I outgrew that childish fairy tale and assumed it was my grandmother’s way of making sure I ate well and got plenty of exercise. Hell, that’s why I was enrolled in soccer, as a hope to ward off the “curse”.

Yesterday I turned sixteen, and I woke up today with a fit athletic body. Sure, I’m broad backed like the men before me, but that’s normal.

I walked downstairs and saw my dad sitting at the table in boxers and an undershirt reading the paper. His fat stretched the confines of the shirt, his belly resting with ease on his lap. He had a thick chest roll that sat on his belly, and his ass sagged over the edge of the chair. Never once did I hear him complain about it, and my mother never mentioned it unless the “curse” was mentioned in regard to me.

“It won’t happen to my son,” she swore up and down. “I did what your grandmother, god rest her soul, told me to do and I took up sewing and hemming. But I swear to whatever man started this chain, it will NOT affect you.” She was very determined to ward off this curse if it was her dying wish.

School was out due to a snow day and both my parents went to work, leaving me alone in the house. So, I did what I always did: ate cereal, watched tv, jerked off, and played video games.

Sometime after twelve my stomach started to rumble. Pausing Skyrim, I went downstairs to get a bowl of chips. Knowing I didn’t want to wash another bowl, I just took the brand-new bag upstairs with me. I thought nothing of it as I played my game, eating a few chips here and there. An hour later, I stretched after defeating two dragons and reached into the bag, just to feel the foil and no chips. Confused, I thought to myself, ‘Well, maybe the bag wasn’t full to begin with. They always give you more air than they do chips.’

Heading back downstairs, I cut a medium sized slice of cake and before I could sit back down to play my game, I was down to half a slice.

‘Man, I must be hungrier than I thought.’ The rest of the slice was gone in just two forkfuls, and I found myself downstairs eating the cake off the plate without even taking it out of the fridge. There I was, fridge door wide open and me bending over, eating my birthday cake. Before I could come to my senses, I was painfully bloated and only crumbs remained on the plate.

I waddled to the closest chair, shocked at what I had just done. My hands gravitated to my distended belly, swollen with the remains of my birthday cake.

“What am I going to tell mom?” I asked out loud. “She’s going to be pissed when she sees what I’ve done.” Then, I froze, my hands on my belly and my eyes widening.

THE CURSE!!

‘It’s true!’ My thoughts screamed. ‘I can’t believe it! I mean, what else explains my downing an entire birthday cake? No, NO! Calm down. You’re a growing boy who gets hungry. All the guys on the soccer team eat a lot and look at them. Thin and toned. Yeah, this was just a big bout of hunger. I’ll be fine.’ I tried to calm myself down as I thought of what I was going to tell mom. Coming up with something, I took the trash out, planning on telling her that I was going to have a slice of cake when I dropped the whole thing on the floor, so I threw it away. ‘Yeah, that works!’

That night I told her, and she immediately tried to fix the situation. “Oh no! That’s okay, I’ll make you another one. That last one was a little dry.”

‘Great, another cake for me to devour.’

That night my parents ate dinner fast. “We’re going out for a date night. The spaghetti is on the stove. Just put the leftovers away before you go to bed.”

I got a bowl of spaghetti and sat on the couch with it. The bowl was empty before the first commercial aired. My belly rumbled again, and almost as if I was a slave to it, I filled the bowl with more spaghetti than I had the first time. I shoveled it down like it was nothing, getting sauce on my lips as I heaved the noodles into my mouth.

Two bowls more later and I was sprawled on the couch, rubbing my stomach. I let out a loud belch, which helped with the pain some. I thought about my predicament and realized it wouldn’t be that bad.

‘Whatever I gain, if I were to gain anything, I could just lose it playing soccer. And I’ll make sure mom stocks the house with healthier options, so if I snack it’ll be on that and not gross foods. I got this!’

I put what remained of dinner in the fridge and grabbed the half drank liter of soda from the fridge before going to my bedroom for the night. I drank the bottle climbing up the stairs and finished it while sitting on my bed, never removing the bottle from my lips.

As I let out my final belch, mom and dad came home and I heard them fumbling into the kitchen.

“I’m gonna have some soda before bed,” my dad said in his deep fat man’s voice.

“Seriously Wes. I get you’ll be this fat forever, but do you really need soda?”

“Hmm, didn’t we have a bottle in here? And how much spaghetti did he eat?”

I swore I could hear my mother gasp as my belly let out a low growl.

This may be harder to beat than I thought.

@natedrake90

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