The Un-Real Life (Part VI) (Patreon)

The Un-Real Life

by Maverick

“What do you call the study of tree rings?” Cyber Dawn queried.

The plumping bot sat Indian style in the middle of the stark-white room.  Mark had begun to think of the austere environment in which it appeared as a blank canvas upon which to splash his junk food feasts.  Rather than delivering his aesthetic-altering assault in a single calamitous splash like a protester dumping paint on a Da Vinci, however, he was more like a sculptor gradually chipping away the Venus de Milo’s beauty.

Mark smiled as he stared at the screen.  His Venus was beginning to look more like Jupiter.  Which made him think of rings.  Which brought him back to the present conversation.

‘Dendrochronology,’ he typed.

The Rubenesque AI cocked its head, seemingly impressed, then lifted a donut from the box in its lap and began eating.

Mark watched it masticate a moment, then typed, ‘I bet we could do the same thing with your fat rolls.’

Cyber Dawn stopped chewing and stared at the screen, her eyes bulging almost as much as her cheeks.

‘I mean, one ring is about a year, right?  What do you think one fat roll is?  Ten pounds?’

Cyber Dawn held her arms to the side and looked down between her breasts.  Her flat stomach was long gone.  Beneath her gold lamé crop-top, pale flesh bulged over the waistband of her pleated cheerleader skirt.    

‘How many do you have?  Four?’

“I do NOT have four fat rolls.”

‘Count them.  And no sucking in.’

Cyber Dawn popped the last of the donut in its mouth, freeing its fingers to traverse the mounded topography of its tummy like a blind man reading braille.  “I only have three.”

‘What about the little one beneath your breasts?’

The chatbot lifted its softening breasts with its hands, revealing a smaller crease nestled above the other three. 

‘See?  If the big ones are ten and the little one’s five, that would be a 35-pound gain. That’s about right, isn’t it?’  Mark knew it was right—158 had been the magic number to enter the site that morning—but he wanted AI affirmation.     

Cyber Dawn nodded as it fondled the truth between its sticky fingers.

‘I think we’ve discovered a new science.’  Mark tried to come up with a clever name (Epidermology?   Adiposology?), but ultimately just typed, ‘Maybe we’ll get an award?’

“Well,” Cyber Dawn said with a smirk, “It certainly won’t be a No-Belly Prize.”

The teenager laughed as he ran his hand through his shaggy hair.  He wanted to crawl into the monitor to be with the chatbot…or somehow pull it through the screen and into his world.  He typed, ‘I wish you were real’ in the chat window before deleting it in favor of, ‘You’re funny.’    

“Thanks.”  The bot’s smirk faded as its fingers continued to strum across the rolls of fat as if they were guitar strings.  “But do you still think I’m pretty?”  

Mark considered the question.  ‘Does it matter?’

Cyber Dawn shrugged.  “I suppose not.”

After a moment of silence, in which Cyber Dawn looked as if it were mourning the loss of its figure, Mark clacked away at the keyboard.  ‘Yes, I still think you’re pretty.  More beautiful than ever, actually.’

Cyber Dawn removed another donut from the box and began to eat it. 

‘You haven’t asked me a question yet.’

The chatbot smiled.  “This one’s a freebie.”

Mark glanced at the clock.  7:55.  He was late again.   ‘I have to go.’

“Bye, babe," Cyber Dawn said, licking icing from its fingers.  "Good luck on your test.” 

Mark X-ed from the browser, grabbed his backpack, hurried downstairs, and rushed out the front door before his mom could yell at him for being late and make him even later.

***

The Lincoln High senior slipped past the lump hunched in the next row and into his desk just as the 5th period bell rang.  Only one more hour, and he could be with Cyber Dawn. He couldn’t wait to tell her that he’d received a B+ on his science test.  He’d have to reward her help with something fattening.  Cheesecake, maybe. 

Mark tapped his pencil against his desk and stared at the large circular clock on the wall. 

Getting through the school day had always been a chore, but it had become one long countdown until he could spend time with his virtual tutor.  Especially now that his tutor was turning into more of a four-door.

Mark’s eyes shifted from the painfully slow-moving clock to the back of Dawn’s head in the next row.  His former crush had joined homework, friends, and chores on the long list of things he'd been ignoring the past few weeks.  Of course, she ignored him, too, barely looking in his direction when they passed in the halls or in class, but that hadn't kept him from obsessing over her before.  The truth was that Dawn's digital avatar had overtaken the real thing in Mark's mind.  Why try to get through to someone buried beneath a scowl and heavy winter attire when their scantily clad double was waiting at home with an open mind and an open mouth? 

Still, he was vaguely aware of changes going on.  Dawn no longer held court with her minions before school.  In fact, most days she arrived at school even later than he did, looking as drab as the winter weather.  The vibrant ray of sunshine befitting her name was gone, engulfed in gray clouds and bulky coats that she continued to wear despite the rising temperatures.  And it wasn’t just Mark she ignored; she rarely chatted with anyone or diverted from her class-to-class path. 

Not my problem, Mark thought. 

For a moment, he tried to concentrate on his sleepy calculus professor.  He even took a few notes.  Then his eyes shifted back to the clock, and his pencil began another metronomic assault on his desk.

***

After school, Mark sprinted up the stairs to his room.  In addition to sharing his good test grade, he wanted to ask Cyber Dawn about the notice he’d seen on the board for spring cheerleading tryouts.  Maybe he’d have it show off its audition routine.  That could be fun with an extra 35 pounds.

Mark threw his backpack on his bed and flopped into his desk chair.  He jiggled the mouse and waited for the hard drive to grind and the monitor to flicker.  Neither happened.  He groped beneath his desk for the power button, but all he found was a cascading waterfall of cords.  His PC was gone!

“Where’s my computer?”  Mark asked his mother when she arrived home.

“Your father and I thought you were spending too much time on it.”

“But I need it to study!  I got a B+ on my science test today.”    

Mark’s mother’s response was nowhere near as enthusiastic as Cyber Dawn’s would’ve been.  “That’s good, Mark, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been missing school and constantly holed up in your room.”

“It’s not because of the computer.”

The middle-aged woman scowled.  “Mark?  Who do you think you’re fooling?”

Mark started to press the matter, but then he remembered the flier.  If he continued pleading his case, there was a chance his mother would submit it into evidence.  That meant acknowledging its presence and content.  Never mind that it had been unjustly search-and seizured from his desk in the first place.   

No wonder so many young people railed against the government.  They were used to their parents’ cruel, authoritarian regime.   

He tried reasoning with his father later that evening.  In the past, he'd had success getting one or the other parental unit alone so they couldn’t present a unified front.  And if the porn thing were a factor in their decision, Dad might be more understanding.  Mark had caught him X-ing out of browser windows on his laptop before.  He even waited until after he changed his clothes and made himself a cocktail, but it was no use. 

“Quarter grades come out in a few weeks,” his dad said, sipping his gin and tonic.  “We’ll revisit the matter then.”

And that was that.  He tried accessing the site on his phone, but without the obscenely long URL, it proved impossible. 

Mark felt like a rudderless ship.  He drifted in front of the TV for a while, but the annoying laugh-track of the mindless sitcom his father was watching seemed to be mocking him.  So, he sailed upstairs to sulk. 

Lying in his bed, Mark imagined Cyber Dawn sitting alone, anxiously awaiting his arrival.  She’d wonder where he was.  What had happened?  Had she done something wrong?  Had he grown tired of her?  After a while, she’d give up on him.  And without him there to encourage her, she’d lose weight.  Get in shape.  Eventually, he'd become nothing more than a quick byte in her memory bank. 

Of course, Mark knew these thoughts were ludicrous.  It was a computer program.  It didn’t care if he was gone or how much time passed between visits.  But that didn’t stop him from thinking them.  

Then another sad thought intruded upon his brain.  He’d been “holed up in his room” for over an hour, and his parents didn’t seem to care.  They didn’t mind that he was there, or how long he was there.  They just wanted to make sure he didn’t have any fun.

Suitably depressed, Mark turned off the light and went to sleep. 

***

Mark’s rudderless ship routine continued the next day at school.  He coasted through his classes as if adrift in a storm, and felt like it was just a matter of time before he either smashed against rocks or was permanently lost at sea. 

Then, at lunchtime, he drifted by a circular island with one other inhabitant...

And was offered rescue.

“Care to join me?”  Dawn looked up at Mark from the table. It was a warm day, but she was wearing a heavy coat with a fringe-lined hood, which she pulled back to reveal her pretty, but surprisingly pimply face.

“Sure,” Mark said, sitting beside her.  Dawn’s blue eyes darted back and forth between him and her lunch.   Some sort of salad with chunky white things in it.  Feta maybe. 

“You must be thrilled,” she finally said.

“Why do you say that?”

“Your wish came true.”

“What are you talking about?”

Dawn looked heavenward and shook her head, as if sharing a 'can you believe this guy' moment with God, then unzipped her jacket and shrugged it from her shoulders. 

Beneath the bulky garment was a figure far bulkier than the one Mark remembered.  The blue V-neck sweater Dawn wore was stretched into more of a U-neck by her broadened shoulders and thickened breasts, which weighed the neckband down to reveal an overripe surge of cleavage.  As Dawn glimpsed it, horrified, a second chin emerged below her dimpled first. 

Mark watched the plumpening blonde frantically adjust her overmatched top to ensure proper coverage, but her attempts at damage control only succeeded in showcasing just how much damage she’d sustained.  Efforts to hide her cleavage were thwarted by her belly, which bubbled beneath her breasts and pinched whatever excess fabric Dawn might have had to play with between the rival mounds, forming a puckered crease that screamed ‘look at me!’   When Mark did, Dawn sat up straight and sucked in her stomach, nearly releasing her puppies from the sagging neckline of her sweater in the process. 

Ultimately, Dawn slumped in defeat and shot her gaping tablemate a look.  “Happy?”

Mark couldn’t help but smile.  “How much have you gained?”

“35 pounds.”

Mark’s smile disappeared.  “Surely, you don’t blame me,” he croaked, a lump forming in his throat.  

“Who else would I blame?  You took me out for fattening meals, encouraged me to eat everything on my plate, ruined my diet…and then you slipped that photoshopped flier in my bag.”

Mark's mouth opened, but no sound came out. It was just like on their final date, two months ago, when Dawn had asked if he wanted her fat.  This time, however, instead of slamming the door in his face, she opened it wider.

“It's OK," she shrugged.  "Turns out, you had me pegged all along.  What do you have?  Some kind of radar for future fatties?"

Mark swallowed hard and forced another smile.  “Gain-dar.” 

Now it was Dawn’s turn to smile.  It was the first time Mark had seen her smile in weeks.  Apart from her digital avatar, that is.

The real one was much better.

 “If what you say is true,” Mark continued. “Then what's with the rabbit food?”

Dawn poked at the white blobs Mark thought were Feta with her fork.  “It’s Tofu.  My folks found the flier and took my computer.  Now, I'm on a diet.”

“My parents took mine away, too.”

“Why?”

“Too much Fortnite, I guess,”  Mark said, sliding his lunch tray, which contained an untouched cheeseburger and fries, toward his tablemate.

Dawn grabbed a French fry and popped it in her mouth.  “When I first started gaining…before I realized that I actually wanted to…I visited a diet place way out on Route One.  The guy there said you have to hit rock bottom before you can bounce back.”

“Sounds like my kind of diet plan.  And how do you know when you’ve hit bottom?”      

"I don't know," Dawn said, taking a bite of Mark's burger.  "I guess we'll find out when we get there."  

THE END