Ratchet Finale (Patreon)

/plop plop plop plop

“Yeaaaah you like that fat ass daddy?” Monique panted under her breath.

“Ooh girl, you know I do.” Owen growled, pounding her from behind and sending rippling waves through her flabby body and flooding her brain with serotonin.

“Mmmm….Ugh, why is it soooo good? You sure you not gon’ be too sad when all this goes away?” She cooed, trying not to get him too excited for a body that she was actively trying to get rid of.

“Oh yeah? You think this is going away any time soon?” The strong man said, slapping his girl on the ass causing her to moan in pleasure.

“I’m gonna…beat this tho…I’mma be small and white again…” She sputtered, wracked by quaking orgasms made stronger by her quivering fat.

“Nah. Bitch stop kidding yourself.” Owen said, burying his thick dick into her as he leaned over to speak into her ear. “You ain’t never gonna lose this weight. You belong to ME now. You’re a big, ghetto bitch now and that’s how you’re gonna stay. Ain’tchu?”

Monique wanted to argue at least a little bit, but didn’t even try. Owen really was hurting her feelings, but at the time she was too horny to really care. She knew that he’d go back to supporting her after they were done fucking, but in the meantime she was enjoying the humiliating dirty talk. Even if she wanted to play the brat and refuse, it felt far too good in the moment to play the role and go along with what her suddenly very dominant man was saying. He’d never been this way before, but if stereotypes were to be trusted, black men liked fat girls with big butts and it seemed that Owen was no different. Plus, Monique had never had such strong orgasms in a row and was enjoying the sudden increase in roughness.

“Yes daddy..” She groaned, happy to play along.

“That’s not enough. You just playin with me. I wanna hear you say it.” He snarled, slapping her undulating buttcheek again, sending a shockwave through her entire body. With a sudden ferocity, he pulled out and tossed her onto her side, then manhandled her thick, flabby thighs to pull her onto her back and slide back into her jiggling, puffy pussy rolls.

“You still think yo dark ass is white, nigga?” He demanded.

“Mmm. No daddy...” Monique burbled, her mind growing foggy.

“Tell me watch you are.” He growled.

“I’m black. I ain’t white no more. I’m a black girl now..” Monique dozed dreamily, euphoria taking over her thoughts and increasing her drowsy enthusiasm.

Owen slowed his pace, but pressed himself deeper into her with each slow thrust. “You skinny?”

“Mm-mm…” She shook her head. “Nah daddy…I’m FAT. So…soooooo faaaat…..”

“And you gonna keep getting bigger ain’t you? Ghetto ass nigga. Lazy, dark ass fat bitch. That’s you ain’t it? Lemme hear you say it.” Owen commanded in a tone simultaneously quieter and more forceful than ever. Monique felt her brain turning to mush.

“I’m so fuckin fat, daddy..” She squealed, her entire body rocked by the tidal motion of her fat. Her belly and thighs sloshing back and forth as her huge, heavy boobs bobbed up and down, slapping the bottom of her cherubic double chin in a way she absolutely adored.

“Who are you?” He demanded again.

“I’m your fat bitch, daddy. I’m a big…FAT…ghetto nigga. I’m black…I’m lazy…I don’t wanna go back…I just wanna be yours.” Monique gasped, feeling herself build to an intolerably strong climax.

“This is who you are.” Owen said stoically, but even without the force of emotion behind it, the words sent Monique over the edge.

“This is who I am.” She whimpered breathlessly before cumming again, the sheer power of the orgasm causing her to pass out.

/BAM BAM BAM
“MONIQUE! GET UP! MAMA WANTS US TO GO TO THE STORE!!!”

Monique rolled over in bed, her voluminous belly forcing her to lift herself up before she could actually get out of bed. She’d become accustomed to being woken up like this just as she’d become accustomed to her massive increase in size.

“Yeah, I’m comin’.” She yelled sleepily at the door then trudged over to the mirror to brush her hair.
She saw the scale on the floor and rubbed her eyes, sighing before taking the plunge and stepping onto it. Originally she had had to look down and approximate where the analogue needle had been pointing when she first arrived, but it seemed that the more the magic affected her, the more it affected everything else around her. The house, the neighborhood, even the scale had all been significantly upgraded by some unseen hand over time. With Owen as the only exception, the people had changed too. More and more Keisha and Naomi seemed more sleek and eloquent. Naomi had lost all traces of chubbiness and Keisha had gained model proportions, her face and features softening until she looked like the black-girl-sweetheart from a live action Disney movie.

“Two. Eighty. Seven.” The digital scale said out loud in a female sounding robot voice. A convenient feature given that Monique had stopped being able to see past her belly and boobs weeks ago.

“Goddamn….” She sighed, looking at her obese body in the mirror. She figured she should have been alarmed at the reflection of the obese black woman staring back at her,. Normally she would find her continued changes at least a little upsetting, but barring the small amount of guilt she felt for it, Monique didn’t have an opinion on her appearance. For the first time, it felt completely normal. She knew she wanted to be thin. She knew she wanted to be white. She knew that this wasn’t who she used to be. But still it was like her brain couldn’t actually find anything wrong with how she looked. Until such time as she could break the curse, she was a fat black woman.

And it felt like the most normal thing in the world.

The shopping cart clacked and rattled as Monique listed off things to pick up in the area. “The girls” had developed a bit of a routine at the store as Mama Lovelie now consistently handed the chore off to them as a group. Monica was strong-armed with it as a means of earning her rent while Keisha used it as a way to get out of the house and make sure that the groceries she wanted were always available at home. Originally, Naomi would go for a chance to get a free soda or some treats for herself, but as her diets grew more and more stringent, the cakes turned into candy bars, the candy bars turned into pocky, and finally the pocky turned into things like kale chips and yogurt.

‘”Aight. Mama said she want onions, carrots, bell peppers, and tomatas. Naomi, you want me to grab yo lil salad things?” Monique said, trying her very best to be organized and professional. It was one of her little ways of fighting the curse and warding off any impromptu “trials” or temptations that might suddenly appear.

“Yes please!” Naomi chimed in her new, honeysuckle voice.

At one point, it had been Monica asking for the salad packs and fresh produce, but as Monique began to overtake her life, her figure, and her mind, the healthy choices seemed to be handed off to the now skinny Naomi and to a lesser extent, the model-esque Keisha.

“Daaang, look at these!” Keisha called, happily plodding over with a pair of large beefsteak tomatoes. “These should be good, right?”

Monique nodded. “Those are perfect.” She said before waddling to the next aisle.

She had a hard time looking at Keisha lately. The two had been closer during the early months of her stay, but after the incident with Jewleigh Keisha had all but given up on helping Monique shed the curse. At first it was because she’d walked in on the two girls greedily scarfing down candy with Monique suddenly noticeably fatter. It had been meant as a way to show her what was happening to her and why trusting Lovelie was a bad idea, but it had ended up backfiring and turning into a big fight. Keisha was upset that Monique wasn’t even trying and that she’d only been gone a couple minutes when she came back to her new housemate gorging herself stupid while Monique blamed Keisha for taking her over there in the first place and then leaving. In the end, the two agreed that both of them were a little at fault, but that Keisha’s help was neither helping nor necessary. Ever since then they had been pleasant, cordial, and even friendly with each other, but it was clear that they were drifting as one became more outgoing and elegant while the other became fatter and more obnoxious.

Even worse was the fact that every pound Monique gained seemed to make the other girls more beautiful and thin. Keisha had always been pretty in a ratchet sort of way, but now she was a total bombshell. Her hips were soft and thick and her waist was supple with the right amount of tone underneath that made her popular with both men and the local modeling agency. Further still, Monique couldn’t help but notice that her previously magnificent breasts had found their way onto her pseudo-sisters, with Naomi growing bustier by the day and Keisha’s boobs having fattened up to sloshy brown pumpkins just as large as Monica used to have; as confirmed by the tags on her new custom-order bras whenever the fat girl did the laundry. Keisha was gorgeous and Monique could barely stand it.

(1)

Monique went through the aisles ahead of everyone else, throwing things into the cart while Keisha pushed it. Lovelie only ever gave them a certain amount to spend for themselves and while the other two rarely even used half of it, Monique had learned which snacks and treats would give her the greatest quantity for the price. Keisha generally saved up for hair products when she ran out and Naomi only rarely got anything sweet. The bigger girl noticed the paling brunette teen with envy as she read over the nutrition facts on a box of strawberry pocky, her skin visibly lightening by the day.

“Naomi, you wanna get those still? I thought you was done with em.” She called over her shoulder, even then feeling her back fat bunch up over her shorts. For her part, Monique was still attempting to dress as professionally as she could, but at her size she could only rely on her magically morphed clothes to fit her without spending money she didn’t have to replace them. Her stretchy yellow shirt was conservative enough for an office, she reasoned, but was still not large enough to stop from riding up over her large body, so she paired it smartly with a pair of 3X shorts and made it more of a classy summer look even with the extra skin showing.

(2)

Naomi quirked one side of her mouth in decisive disappointment before looking over at Monique. 

“Nah. I mean I *kinda* want them right now? But these are like 350 calories of almost pure sugar.”

Monique scoffed. “Three-fifty? That’s nothing.”

“Pfft. To you. A whole pot pie is 400 and at least THAT has some protein. I don’t need a snack that’s as heavy as a whole meal.” Naomi said, rolling her eyes and moving to put the pink box back on the shelf.

(3)

Monique chuckled to herself briefly, causing her belly to bob up and down as she did. “Shit, I eat three of those at a time. They small to me.”

“That’s why you’re so big.” Naomi retorted casually, completely unaware that she’d hurt Monique’s feelings.

There was a brief moment where the almost 300 pound woman wanted to start yelling at the skinny brat and her food shaming. She felt the anger well up in her chest as she mentally rehearsed chewing her out in the store because they all knew full well that her eating WASN’T the reason she was so heavy. But that welling anger sank into her stomach as her confidence waned and her strength shrank away with the growling of her belly at the sight of the box of sugar sticks being put back. She knew yelling about it wasn’t going to make her thinner. In fact, she reasoned, it would probably do the opposite. But even though she avoided the outburst, she still caved to her cravings.

“Well, whatever. Throw em in. I’ll eat em. But I’mma say that’s on YOUR allowance.” She snapped sassily before waddling further down the aisle.

Naomi shrugged. “Whatever. It’s your waistline.”

The comment had stung more than Monique had expected it to. She felt picked on and irritated, but couldn’t find a place to direct her anger that wasn’t back at herself. She felt weak and pathetic. She caved at the first sight of food nearly every time now, and had no idea how she was going to fight the curse if she kept shoveling food into her face without any ability to stop.

She wanted to just be away from the both of them. Between the snide comments from Naomi and the utter perfection that was Keisha, Monique couldn’t help bet feel that everything she was was being stolen from her and given to Owen’s family instead.
She turned and waddled her colossal ass back down the previous aisle to buy herself enough time to escape their presence, even if only for a minute or two. She sped as fast she could to the end so as to clear their line of sight, but ended up only upsetting herself more as just the act of briskly walking down the bread aisle had her out of breath and gasping for air. She moved achingly back to the produce section and clutched at her billowing waist, trying to put pressure on a cramp that had formed under her long-buried rib, leaning up against a fruit display for support.

“Excuse me, you okay?” A woman said, causing Monique to look up, her mouth still hanging open in disgraceful looking agony.

“Huh?” Monique honked stupidly at the woman before really taking stock of who she was talking to.
Before her stood a kind looking and very pregnant black woman in a blue dress and wearing a nametag that identified her as a store manager. Seeing this, Monique wanted to apologize, but was stopped by the same eerie feeling she’d had before at the park, at the restaurant, and at Jewleigh’s house. She wore several African style necklaces and gold hoop earrings with a headband and bangles to match. She looked entirely too tribal and her arrival was far too serendipitous to be a coincidence. Something was happening.

(4)

“Here. I know just what you need.” The woman said and began walking away. “Follow me.”

Monique *did* try to refuse. She *did* try to clutch onto the display and insist on staying. She wanted to scream “Go away!” or “Leave me alone!”

….But she didn’t. Instead, she felt her thoughts thicken and slow. She felt tired. Dizzy. Hungry beyond reason. She felt weak and lazy.

“Come.” The woman said, stronger this time.

Monique felt her tired legs move on their own. Against every semblance of willpower, she found herself slowly slogging towards the woman, following her towards a pair of black double doors at the end of the store with the same enthusiasm and resistance as a bratty child who didn’t want to get up to clean the house.

The woman pushed past the plastic doors and vanished, prompting Monique to follow. Mentally exhausted and physically fatigued, Monique walked through the doors and was immediately blinded by chilly orange light.

Monique shielded her eyes, feeling the air turn cold and crisp as the sensation of sand between her bare toes set in. Her vision cleared and before her lay a lush and beautiful jungle with a path of clean white sand gently winding through a clearing in the trees. Monique turned around and looked for the doors she’d just stepped through, but wasn’t at all surprised when she found nothing but the jungle behind her.
She strode down the path gently, feeling her naked fat wobble with every plodding footstep. But therein lied the problem: she knew that she was naked and tried very hard to shrink down and cover herself up, but found neither a safe place to hide nor anyone around. Whenever something like this had happened in the past it was always some delirious fever dream and not a lucid transportation. Monique was awake and aware and though she could feel her own emotions being stifled against her will, all that did was prevent her from screaming in the same way she didn’t break down in front of the mirror every day.

(5)

Despite her immense fear, she hesitantly made her way down the path and found herself staring out to the open ocean, a glorious and beautiful orange sun rising over the water. Monique was in awe. She could taste the brine on the air and the cold sand beneath her feet. The wind blew through her hair and made her skin prickle from the brisk temperature. In all of her other dreams, she’d been in such places at night, and always under some bleary spell that coerced her movements and guided her automatically to her destination. But now for the first time, she was naked on the beach, looking at the most stunning sunrise in her life and almost fully in control of her actions if not her emotional state. The air filled her lungs and refreshed her in ways she’d never imagined it could, and a sort of natural, exploratory glee filled her heavy body. She felt like a little girl waking up in a new place for the first time, eager to move and take it all in.

She began rushing down to the beach, but only made it about ten steps or so before the exertion reminded her of just how large a woman she’d become. Just in time too, as the moment she’d slowed to catch her breath, Monique made out the slim and slender form of a woman laying out on the beach, propped up on some kind of miniature floor chair. Her instant reaction was to turn back and hide, her hands shooting up to cover her nipples only to realize that they were too far apart for one fat arm and using both left her pussy only partially exposed thanks to her sagging belly apron.

The woman turned to her, her smile visible even in the distance and beckoned her forward. Monique was uncertain and unwilling, but had already assumed from experience that she didn’t really have a choice in the matter. The fat woman waddled over, self conscious of her weight and nervous about what her upcoming interaction was going to mean for her. She steeled herself for a test or a temptation, but moved closer all the same.

The woman herself was young and thin, with a very tribal look that reminded Monique of old documentaries showing African girls in short, frilly skirts and tops moving to feeding huts to gain weight before marriage. A tiny puff of nappy hair stuck out cutely from a multicolored head wrap and large earrings dangled from her ears. She was pretty. Even without a thick ass or massive breasts, the girl was gorgeous in a simple, natural, easy way that made her seem all the more innocent.

(6)

Monique approached cautiously, but the girl’s smile was disarmingly sweet and pure.

“Monique.” The girl said in a heavy African accent.

“Yeah?” Monique replied dumbly, fully aware of how brash and accented her own voice had become.
The girl gestured to a blanket on the sand with her hand, smiling.

“You have come a long way. Sit. Rest.” The girl said, and despite her mental protestations, Monique found herself gently lowering her fat butt to the ground and sitting on the blanket, fully disarmed and naked before this strange woman.

“You are enjoying your gifts? Wealth, abundance. You are happy, ne?” She said, reaching over and pressing a firm, slender finger down Monique’s leg and tracing a trail in her fat like a boat on the water.

“Huh?!” Monique shrilled in muffled outrage.

“Enjoying my- I ain’t *ENJOYING* this! Look at me! I’m not even myself anymore! I hate this! All I want is to be the way I was again! Please, can you help me? Can you turn me back?” She begged, almost in tears.

“Ahh…I remembah. Sixteen hou-ah days at thee office. No lahve. No friends. Only work. You want to return to that?” The girl teased, smiling knowingly.

“Well…No, not the work part. I mean…I was..I want my old body back! My identity! ME! Not this…Not whatever THIS is.” Monique said, pleading defensively.

The girl giggled. “Ah yes. You are worried about your body, ah? You pout because you have become such a fat-ti? But I think you enjoy more than you say, ahhh?”

Monique was about to say something in response, but the mysterious girl leaned her head back and began moaning in Monique’s own voice.

“Mmmm….Ugh, why is it soooo good? You sure you not gon’ be too sad when all this goes away?”

The girl clapped her hands together up by her head dramatically as if summoning a servant, and before very long, a blonde woman identical to Monica walked out of a nearby gazebo, bare naked and carrying bowls of food.

(7)

“You say you don’t enjoy….but perhaps you are hungry, ah fat-ti? Show me the truth.”

Monique was dumbstruck at watching her doppelganger saunter over to her, kneeling down in a trancelike state, her face painted with a placid, condoning smile. She could smell the food and instantly her stomach started growling. Monique almost reached her hand out automatically, but stopped herself after only a twitch. But the aroma was strong and enticing, and Monique only grew hungrier, salivating behind her clenched teeth. The blonde woman lifted a wooden spoonful of rice up to Monique’s mouth, teasing it under her nose until the obese black woman whimpered with desire. She closed her eyes and tried to block it out as best she could, but soon felt a warm, gentle hand press into her big, squishy belly and begin to rub sensually.

“It’s okay, fat-ti. You ah hungry. Eat. Let your worries go and enjoy.” The woman said, rubbing slow circles into Monique’s fat.

Monique’s hunger swelled, and without even opening her eyes, she nodded. Tears began to trickle down her face as the pain of hunger grew to unbearable levels. With one last gasp of resistance, Monique pursed her lips before quietly opening her mouth. Instantly, she was rewarded with the most delicious tasting rice she’d ever had and her hunger grew even stronger. The blonde woman fed her more, only leaving to replace bowl after bowl of food to be hand fed to the growing woman.

“Good fat-ti…Very good…” The thin girl smiled, happily caressing Monique into a sleepy bliss.

Enraptured, Monique began to eat. Slowly at first, then eagerly, and then ravenously bid her old self to feed her more. With every morsel, she felt her troubles melt away into a haze of flavor. With every bite, the woman’s encouraging words pushed her to consume more and more, feeling her body swell under the intoxicating mantra.

“Fat-ti…Good fat-ti….Fat….fat…..fat…..”

“Fat…” Monique mumbled dreamily as more food was stuffed into her mouth.

“Mmmf..sho…fffaaaaaaaaat……Mmmmm……”

She continued to eat, grabbing bowl after bowl herself, barely even noticing when the other two women stood up and began walking away. Monique looked up hazily, mustering the closest thing she could equate to sadness as the thin blonde woman turned to look at her one last time. Monique knew that this would be the last time she’d ever see her again, but the only pain she felt was the knowledge that she *wanted* more than anything to care more than she really did.

She opened her mouth to say something. To bid her past goodbye or apologize for failing. She tried to bid Monica one last farewell, but before the words came out, a blast of chocolate sponge cake mushed between her teeth.

“Fffffaaaaaaaaaat….” She mumbled desperately.
“Ahm getting…So….Faat…..”

“THERE YOU ARE!” Keisha’s cloudy soft voice called out in a tone that sounded like the distant cousin of anger.

“We been lookin all over for you and now I gotta pay for those damn dingdongs too!”

“Hmm? Monique blinked, coming out of her stupor, still standing in the pastry aisle with a bunch of chocolate cupcake wrappers littering the shelf and floor around her and a half eaten box of dingdongs in her hand.

“Oh…Shit, sorry. I spaced out. We goo’t ta go?” She slurred, hiking up her 4XL sweatpants and waddling towards the exit.

The other girls were still complaining to Monique about her behavior in the parking lot and asked her multiple times what had happened, but all Monique could say was that she had another vision about eating on the beach and that when it ended she was eating in the aisle.

“Goddamn girl, I have no idea how you’re gonna get rid of this curse if you keep eating like that. You look worse than you came in…”

Monica took slight offense to that and craned her head to say as much. All in all, she was glowing from the experience and her body felt more sexually charged than ever. She knew exactly what she wanted the moment she got home, and it wasn’t another stack of cupcakes.

“Gurl, you best back off cuz I’ma beat this shit my way, aight? Now I already tol’ you I’mma do it butchu ain’t listen so I’ma say again. I know you tryna help but *I. Got. This.*”

With that, Monique flipped her long, braided weave over her shoulder dramatically and climbed into the car, feeling it sink to one side as she got in.

(8)

“Monique, baby. Can I talk to you?” Lovelie called from the newly manifested porch as the three girls walked up the ramp to the house, Keisha pulling a wagon full of groceries while Monique ate her way through the pocky.

“Sure Mama I be right there.” She said, eager to speak to Lovelie herself.

Lovelie smiled and put her hand on the fat girl’s thigh, a look of kind concern on the now-young woman’s normally stern face.

(9)

“Monique…Is there something you would like to tell me?” She asked kindly with the tone of a consoling parent.

“Actually yeah, Mama I was just thinkin like…when do I gett’a go back to bein me? Like I had a dream about the beach an’ all that and like I saw my skinny self walk off. So I was just wonderin when you was gonna tell me how this ends.” Monique rambled sincerely.

“Well….” Lovelie said.
“I think you figured out that there are no trials or temptations a while ago. The changes are based solely on your behavior. If you lasted more than nine months without accepting your new life as it is, you would be free and your body and mind would revert to their old ways over time. You made it to month six.”

Monique sat and stared for a moment as the implications set in. “Wait, what? What do you mean? So I gotta wait three more months?”

Lovelie shook her head.

“No, baby. It’s done. You’re done. You accepted your new life and proclaimed, out loud, that this is who you really are. It’s permanent, Monique.”

Monique jumped to her feet, her heart racing at the news. “Wait, what?! I thought that was just a dream! That whole beach thing was just a test! It’s happened a buncha times, Mama! I never accepted this! I barely even talked to that girl! She just had the old me bring me food! THAT’S IT! I didn’t do anything like that!”

Lovelie sat calmly and waited for her to wear herself out before speaking again.

“I’m not talking about your vision, baby. I’m talking about this morning. Before the store. With Owen.”

Monique’s eyes went wide.

“No. That…That don’t count. We was-“

“You said, and I quote: I am a big, fat, ghetto nigga. You said you were black, you said you were lazy, and that you didn’t want to return to your old life.” Lovelie stated matter-of-factly.

“But I-“ Monique started before being cut off again.

“You said it several times. In several different ways. At this point you should be more concerned that everyone can hear your love making through the bedroom door. You are quite loud.”

Monique sat down and a wave of placid acceptance washed over her. On some level, she reasoned, she already knew she’d failed. Even before that morning, day after day had gone by and she couldn’t stave off the impulses that were changing her more and more. Even without Owen pushing her to accept her new identity as a fat black girl, she knew she would have never made it another three months before she gave in and adopted the role.

She sighed and plopped back down onto the reinforced porch chair, sitting silently for several minutes while Lovelie held her hand.

“………So………What happens now?” She asked at last.

“Now….” Lovelie said. “Now you get ready for dinner. Owen will be home in just a few hours and I have a very hungry new daughter to feed. So you get your big, fat, ghetto, black ass in the house and set the table.”

Monique wanted to be sad, but felt the feeling slipping through her fingers. The thought of Owen combined with the mental images of a big meal stole the feeling right out of her mind.

“Yes, Mama.” She said, and waddled into the house.