Ratchet: Part 8 (Patreon)

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“Hey! Monique! Get your ass up girl, I need you!”
Monique rolled over groggily to find that Owen was once again already up and out of bed. It was a common occurrence lately as her energy levels had plummeted in the last few days. Normally she would have nodded back off for several more hours were it not for the banging on her door.

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“MO. NIQUE. WAKE UP. I’M NOT GOING TO WAIT OUT HERE FOREVER.” 

Monique’s eyes opened all the way and she began blinking into consciousness. It was Lovelie trying to break the door down, not Keisha. She could tell by her slightly condescending tone and the insistence on good grammar that it was her, though admittedly they both sounded pretty similar when they yelled. The difference was that Keisha could be ignored when she was being annoying but Mama Lovelie could not if Monique wanted to have anything resembling a good day afterward. With a heavy sigh, she flopped onto her side and threw her legs over the side of the bed, her cushy beanbag chair of a belly sagging onto her legs as she heaved herself upward. These days her stomach and thighs were so large and wobbly that it was easier to navigate around them than it was to push through and act like they weren’t in the way.

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“MAMA I’M COMING!” Monique yelled, whining through the door before Lovelie could yell again.

“I heard you. You ain’t gotta yell, damn.” She muttered, opening the door. 

Lovelie stood in front of her in an African style dress, her hair and makeup already done up and a colorful decorative collar adorning her neck. Owen too was similarly snazzed up in a black button down with golden filigree designs swirling around the collar and cuffs, a white tanktop visible underneath it. Monique eyeballed him lustfully as he and his mother walked out of the front door.

(1)

“Wait. Huh? We goin’ somewhere? I ain’t even dressed yet!” Monique pouted, most of her speech now relegated to a softer, more breathy tone than she used before coming to LA.

“Owen and *I* are going somewhere.” Lovelie said, turning to look at the plump layabout standing in the doorway in only shorts and a tanktop with no bra. “I need *you* to stay here and watch Naomi while we’re out.”

Monique squinted, her mouth opening slightly as she tiltes her head forward in confusion. “Who the fuck is Naomi and why do I gotta watch her?” She asked, a clear accent now pervading her every word. Monique may have still had hopes of returning to her life as a white woman, but to anyone who saw her on the street, she looked and sounded like just another of Lovelie’s kids.

“Naomi is Ne-ne. She wants to be called by her full name now and I respect her for wanting to control her own image, so from now on, she’s Naomi. Understand?” Lovelie said matter-of-factly. She had a way of making even the most casual statements sound like a lecture and Monique was pretty sure she knew it.

“Oh…Alright…” Monique huffed, more than ready to go back inside and get something to eat. 

“Alright, baby. Keisha should be home around seven but we’ll be back before then. You need anything while we’re out?” Lovelie called from the passenger seat window of Owen’s car.

“Uhhhh…Oh yeah, can you get me like Jack in the Box or something?” The chubby girl called back.

Lovelie rolled her eyes, but then looked Monique up and down and a grin spread across her face.

“Of course, baby.”

After they had left, Monique couldn’t get the mental image of being looked at the way Lovelie did out of her head. She knew that she was changing, and according to Owen’s mother the only way was to resist temptations and pass trials set by spirits. The problem was that she hadn’t been seeing many “spirits” lately at all. There were no trials or rules put in place. No one ever told her she was being tested except for Lovelie herself, and it lent heavily to Keisha’s earlier that the house matriarch wasn’t trying to help her at all. In fact, every time there was a temptation to be had, Lovelie would be the first to offer. 

Monique paused for a moment, blinking several times and letting her eyes go wide at how true the realization had been. Lovelie had been overfeeding her every single day, several times a day. She never asked her to do any work and with the exception of that very morning, had never once done anything but encourage her to sleep in every single day. Monique hadn’t done ANY work since she’d arrived despite her weekend away from New York having turned into nearly a month in LA. On some level, she’d tried to listen to both Keisha AND Lovelie just in case one was right over the other, but the time had apparently come to make her choice on who to really take advisement from.

The problem wasn’t the temptation so much as it was the reward. It felt GOOD to give in. To be lured away and danced around by hoochie spirits or stuffed full of chocolate as the world warped into horny fever dreams that always ended with her falling unconscious just to wake up darker and fatter than she’d been before. 

Monique rushed into the bathroom and looked at herself with a clarity she hadn’t felt in several weeks. “Oh my god..” She said, warmly aware of her new blaccented english and subtly pleased at how much she sounded like a black woman as opposed to a lame, bumbling white girl with no ability to relate to her boyfriend’s family. Heat seeped into her thighs and she bit her lip seductively in the mirror, digging both her palms into her round, saggy, pudding-soft belly and kneading it sexily.

“OH MY GOD, NO!” She burst out, freeing herself from the trance. “I…I need to stop this! I need to stop doing…I need to be…Myself.”

Monique strode quickly over to her suitcase and opened it up to find that her regular business attire was still sitting perfectly folded in her suitcase. She snatched them up whispering “please oh please oh please oh please…YES! FUCK YOU, CURSE!” when her slacks and professional button down shirt had magically changed to a 2XL to accommodate her transformed body. She carefully dressed herself as professionally as she possibly could, buttoning down her shirt and tucking the excess over her fat, squishy belly and into her tight, belt-cinched pants. The pants themselves were a bit more of a struggle as while her clothes were larger in the same proportion to themselves, Monique was not. Her boobs had always been a challenge that she was used to dealing with, but she hadn’t imagined that she would ever have such a massive pair of ass cheeks to stuff into a pair of slacks.

The fat woman looked into the mirror and concentrated as hard as she could, banishing all distractions from her mind. 

“Hello.” She said in a voice that sounded like her own for the first time in what felt like ages. “My name is Monica Branson and I am applying for the position of lead coordinator.”

Monica smiled, feeling pleased that this felt more like who she really was. She ran the scenario several times in the mirror. The idea was that if she could avoid acting like a fat, lazy black chick and instead act more like who she was before she’d started dating Owen, she might just reverse the curse on her own or at least stop it from taking over and changing her more. Pleased with her level of determination and focus, Monica grabbed her laptop and charged out into the living room so that she could both fulfill her duty as a babysitter and also get caught up on all the work that had piled up on her over the course of her stay. She plopped down heavily onto the couch and began typing.

(2)

“Uhhhh…..Heyy….Monique….Why do you look like you on X Files right now?” Naomi asked quizzically, a judgmental look of uncertainty on her face.

“Well *Naomi,” Monica said, emphasizing her usage of the teen’s name without properly looking up at her. 

“I am surprised that you even know what The X Files even is, and to answer your question, I have become aware that I have gotten just a little too comfy with my workload here, so I am just getting back to it is all.” 

Her voice was chipper and friendly, but Naomi wasn’t impressed by the display.

“Well. You look like X Files.” She said, rolling her eyes dramatically and flipping her hair only to be again irritated when Monica didn’t notice. Instead she continued typing away on her laptop, her manicured nails click-clacking delicately as she expertly flowed into work mode as she had done a thousand times before.

Naomi groaned noisily, pacing back and forth in the hallway and complaining often that she was bored and wanted to go somewhere. Monica for her part tuned the teenager out and continued to focus on her work. Only when she had completed and sent off her 7th report did she look up at the pouting teen and do a double-take at what she saw. Naomi was a completely different person than when they had first laid eyes on each other. Ne-ne was a very fat, lazy couch potato with ratty, nappy hair and perpetually sleepy eyes. She was a lethargic slob who couldn’t remove her eyes from the television for anything less than a full box of donuts. By contrast, Naomi was on the plump end of curvy with long, silky black hair and a cute babyface that promised she would one day grow into quite the beauty. She walked with a sway in her hips that bordered on sensual, but Monica was almost certain that she had no idea she was doing it. Whatever Loa blessing or voodoo magic was being worked on her was serving her well.

(3)

“Hey Monique, you wanna take a break and watch something with me for a while?” She burst out suddenly.

Monica shook her head, but made sure to look up and smile. “Noooo, sorry. I do have to finish this up. And actually, I’d prefer it you called me Monica.”

Naomi threw her head back and rolled her eyes at the ceiling, opening them wide and tensing her entire face before looking back at Monica typing away. She sighed heavily.

“Alright, I guess……Hey. Can I just watch tv in here then?” 

Naomi was already moving to grab the remote when Monica snatched it away.

“Naomi. Girl. You could just watch tv in your room. I know you’re just trying to hang out with me but I really do need to get this done. We’ll do stuff later, okay?” Monica said kindly, feeling once again fully in control of where she wanted her day to go and feeling a sense of clarity that she hadn’t felt in a while.

“Well….When you gonna be done then?” The teenager negotiated, her grumpy restlessness and obvious disdain for Monica’s work ethic coming out in her tone. 

“Well I don’t know. It might be all day. But I’ll be free all weekend if you wanna do something together then.” Monica offered, flicking her eyes up over her laptop momentarily.

Naomi just sighed. “….Whatever…” 

It was all of two minutes before Monica was sighing herself, her patience dwindling at the girl’s constant cries for attention.

“Hey. You hungry? I could get you a snack. You want some dingdongs? We got the orange kind too if you like that.” Naomi offered hopefully.

“Nope. I need to be on a VERY strict diet for a while.” Monica said, feeling with some level of shame her elbows grazing the sides of her high-waisted slacks and the podgy brown marshmallow belly that she’d stuffed into them.

Apparently, the answer Monica had given was not satisfactory and Naomi had stopped pacing completely, staring in what almost looked like fear at the woman who was still obliviously looking over Excel spreadsheets.

“…For how long?” Naomi asked, trying poorly to hide the sudden seriousness in her voice.

Monica still failed to notice.

“Probably for the next few years.” She said grimly. Quirking the corner of her lip and puffing out her cheeks into a slow exhale.

“Well but like what if you just had like a few-“

“NAOMI.” Monica interrupted. “I’m gonna need you to let me focus. If you’re bored, go in your room and watch tv or something.”

“But I wanna do something with YOU! We never do anything and I really, REALLY wanna spend time with you!” Naomi pouted in such an insincere tone that it made Monica suspicious.

“Hm. That’s kinda funny. I’ve never heard you never ask to hang out before today.” She said.

“Well…Uh…I mean, you’re always with Owen or Keisha so I was scared to ask.” Naomi said, backing off of her intensity and putting Monica only slightly more at ease.

“Well, that sucks and I’m sorry but I need to get this done. If you wanna hang out here with me you can, but I need you to stop talking so much. I’ll hang out with you when I’m done but it’s still gonna be a while and you’re gonna be bored in here with nothing to do.” Monica said firmly before getting back to work.
Naomi’s expression started out as upset, but slowly turned to thoughtful, then upbeat and excited. “Well…Then is it okay if I just put on some music then? It could be like background music for you and I won’t be bored.” 

Monica grimaced with irritation and waved her off. “Sure. Whatever. Just don’t make it too loud.”

Naomi happily turned on a speaker and synced her phone to it via bluetooth. After about a minute Naomi had put on some rap music that Monica didn’t recognize or even really register at first. She typed away, finding herself gyrating a little or rocking her head when a song came on that was particularly catchy. Naomi had begun performing some kind of improvised dance routine that only varied slightly from one song about big booties and gang shit to the next, but periodically Monique would look up and find herself rocking along with Naomi happily looking back and appreciating her expression.

“Okay….Okay! I like this. You should send it to me!” She gushed, losing herself in the music and imagining music video scenarios playing in her head. It was a sexy mental image to imagine being surrounded by thick black women with fat asses all twerking alongside her. She imagined herself as fitter than she was, showing off her plump, bouncy butt for her muscular black boyfriend as she jiggled to the beat. Her thoughts began to run away from her as she danced, throwing her weight around and feeling the sound completely fill her body and take over. The other girls danced around her, encouraging and accepting Monique as she was. She felt a sense of togetherness with the women who surrounded her and in a moment of entranced affection, she looked up to see the familiar face of….the hostess from her first restaurant date?

(4)

The image was jarring enough to snap her out of her reverie and remind her of where she was. Naomi was dancing excitedly to Reekado Banks’ song “Problem” with surprising grace that did make Monique want to get up and join her instead of working. She was still committed to getting her work done, but every time she got herself to put her nose to the grindstone and get some typing done she would inevitably zone out and end up scrolling facebook or watching thotty tiktok videos instead. Monique refocused her vision and forced herself to open up yahoo mail only to find that she still had more than ten work emails still waiting for a proper response that she knew she didn’t have the mental capacity to finish in one day. 

“Hey. You know what? I think I’m prolly done for the day. You still good to hang out?” Monique asked, a kind and playful smile on her face after choosing not to burn out but still having gotten plenty work done. Her smile only widened when she saw Naomi’s eyes shining back at her.

(5)

“So what did you wanna do? Any ideas?” She asked in her best “cool big sister” voice.

Naomi grinned widely. “Ummm….I was wondering if you were hungry? We could get some food if you want?” 

Monique nodded. Earlier she was busy and couldn’t take the time to be distracted by food but she couldn’t deny that she was feeling pretty hungry at that point. She knew that she needed to go on a diet, but that was also no reason to completely skip meals to lose weight. Plus, her yoga pants were pretty shaping and stretchy as it was so even at her higher weight, she only looked a little bigger than usual, she rationalized.

“Sure, I could eat. What’d you wanna get?” 

Naomi shrugged. “I just figured we could go out and see what looks good?”

Monique had become aware on the walk to the main business center how simultaneously out of shape and hungry she was. While Naomi was happily chatting away and walking well ahead of the older woman, Monique found herself slightly winded the entire time. She’d been happy too that Keisha had given her some tips on how to avoid thigh chafe, but still felt a little embarrassed to be having to put baby powder all over her legs just to walk up the street. 

“Hey, there’s a café if you wanna hit that up or…..Guess not, nevermind.” Monique said, her suggestion falling on flat ears and Naomi seemingly didn’t even hear and continued walking in a peculiarly specific and intentional-seeming direction. 

Several times, Monique threw out offers to go to one of the restaurants they had passed by, but Naomi just claimed that she “wasn’t feeling that” right then and kept moving.

Finally, she stopped across the street and looked Monique directly in the eye and pointed at a familiar building not too from the park. 

“Ooooh, can we get some donuts?” She called out hopefully.

Monique slapped her hand against her forehead. “Girl, I thought you wanted food? That ain’t food! That’s junk food! That’s all sugar!”

“Well……I mean it just sounds REALLY good right now so PLEASE can we get some? Like just one box?” Naomi pleaded.

“Holy- A WHOLE DAMN BOX?!?! How many donuts you need? A box is enough for a whole damn family! And I’m tryna get on a diet! I can’t just be eating like this!” Monique argued.

Even so, the teen was insistent and was playing innocent while refusing to give up on her request. “Yeah but…I mean, we walked all the way here. That’s prolly like enough calories to have at least one. Can we just go in and see? PLEASE???”

Shaking her head, Monique kicked herself for not realizing earlier why Naomi had been so sure of where she was and wasn’t going. “Damn. You never even wanted a real lunch, did you? This whole thing was just so you could have me buy you donuts while Mama was gone, huh?”

She sighed again, idly pressing to her hand and groaning just as it did. As much as she knew she shouldn’t, Monique couldn’t deny that a jelly donut was sounding really good about then.

“Fine. Alright. ONE donut, and then we look for real food.”

In the end, neither of them had any interest in real food after they’d entered the donut shop. Monique’s appetite had run away with her the second she started sniffing the warm, sugary air and her one jelly donut turned into two. And then two and a bearclaw. And then a half dozen. And then, she ordered a full baker’s dozen on the grounds that the rest of the family would want some when they got back.
But that wasn’t to be either. Naomi had two plain donuts in the shop when they sat down to eat while Monique carelessly ate four without even slowing down. Even as they walked back, chatting about this tv show or that music artist or what it was like in high school Naomi watched excitedly as Monique finished off the rest of the box one by one, one after another until there were none left. They had just rounded the corner to their housing complex when Naomi had stopped and smiled at the panting woman waddling thickly up the street, her ass wobbling back and forth in her boujie looking white fleece sweatpants. 

(6)

“Hey. Race you back to the house!” The cocky, curvy teen challenged, knowing full well that she was less than half her would-be opponent’s size.

“Bitch please.” Monique huffed. “You know my fat ass can’t run. What the fuck you thinkin’? Heeeeeell no. Absolutely not. Bitch give me a damn heart attack.” 

Naomi smiled warmly, looking pleased by the answer.

“Well at least you can say you exercised today! Come on. Just try to race me, okay?” She chimed, her soft, peppy voice echoing slightly through the neighborhood. She didn’t even wait for an answer before she started tearing down the street at a speed that was fairly impressive for a girl with an ass as big as hers.

(7)

Even so, Monique wasn’t moved to action in the slightest. She didn’t bother to even try to pick up her pace, instead opting to waddle casually down the road, waving at the locals who threw up a hand as she passed by.

“Daaamn girl! Where you goin in a hurry?” A fit black man called from his porch.

Monique didn’t answer, but she was flattered enough to throw her hand up and give a playful “Haaaay.” As she walked up the driveway and into the reasonably nice house owned by her boyfriend’s mother.

The two walked in and with very little stamina left, Monique crashed down onto the couch with her wide, cushy butt before sighing loudly.

“Goddamn. Well now I’m hungry again.” 

“YOU ARE?!” Naomi gushed, seemingly delighted at this new information with an almost creepy intensity.

“Fuck…” Monique muttered.

“We spent all that time getting donuts instead of real food and now we ain’t had anything but sugar. I *need* REAL nutrition and not just candied bread.”
“Well….You can go ahead and do that if you want, but I’m not hungry anymore.” Naomi said, grinning devilishly as she slowly closed the door to her bedroom and vanished.

Monique patted her belly and felt it grumble again.
“Oh well…Doordash it is.”