Late Fees

Minh laid back into his bed as he picked up the last of the cakes that had been delivered to him: an intricate three-tiered masterpiece composed of four types of chocolate, with gentle curves and subtle decorations that dramatically spoke of the competency of the person who had decorated it. The aesthetic beauty of the confection just made it all the more satisfying when he shoved his face into it.

Icing splattered across his chins, the insides crumbling into spongy soft goodness that scattered around his front; what little of the twenty-second cake of the day made it into his mouth was noisily disposed of, destined to be added to the otter’s two dozen tons of filthy bloat.

He smacked his lips loudly as he licked his sausage-like fingers clean, almost immediately following this act with a grumbling belch, depositing a fresh layer of spittle across his stomach and chest. He relished in his largesse for a few moments, murring as his paws rubbed and groped over his engorged middle as it digested his latest snack.

He had long loved his size, and becoming recently bed-bound had done little to stifle Minh’s passion for growth—after all, beforehand he merely defied society, now he was defying biology. Biology had not been complacent however, a thing he was all too reminded of as he tried to readjust his position slightly. His thick arms were unwieldy and uncooperative with where his paws desired to be, and even the slightest exertion led to laboured breaths originating from his overworked lungs. His body was unkempt and in an early stage of decay; his matted and greasy fur clung to his body, the follicles hardened by a drying combination of sweat and dandruff; stretch marks streaking and cross-crossing across his flesh like lightning, marking pathways where his skin had given way to the tsunami of fat that was building up behind it.

It took several minutes before he managed to work himself into a position he found comfortable, where he stopped to regain his breath and carry on the process of slowly sinking into himself. He had barely sunk more than a few centimetres before he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Outside, a large black raven was pecking at the centre of the wooden door. Feathers had historically been unfortunately ineffective at knocking, so she had become accustomed to using the hardest thing she had at her disposal instead—her face. It didn’t hurt, but it was incredibly disorienting.

From upstairs a breathless voice called out ’Come in,’

The corvid slowly pushed open the door, peering in to the dark lounge. The lights were out and the heavy curtains closed, the upholstery of the worn three-piece suite untouched by the bright sunlight outside. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, but was otherwise fairly tidy; the only sign of life was the path leading towards the stairs, the dust unsettled along this singular stretch of wood. She hesitated for a moment, thinking it a trap, before the voice called down again: ’Upstairs now… don’t keep… me waiting,’

She ascended the stairs slowly, becoming ever more aware of the pungent aroma tickling at her nostrils. She clasped her paperwork closer to her chest as she slowly opened the door to Minh’s room.

’I thought… I told all… of you delivery… folks… to just come… in?’ Minh grunted at her, making a momentary effort to point before giving up entirely, ’It’s not… difficult!’

The raven stood in horror at the behemoth before her. This must have been the fattest person she had ever laid eyes on (and that included those in Fattastic Beasts and Where to Find Them that she had read some years prior). The otter’s bulging body, dimpled with cellulite, overflowing and outright destroying the bed, dripping with sweat and gasping for air. Minh grinned as he watched her, paralysed as she tried to process what she was looking at. He loved that reaction.

After a couple of minutes she broke her silence, stuttering as she ruffled through the stack of papers still pressed to her bosom, pulling one out and facing it towards him. ’I-I’m Meredith, from the… from Holder Place Library and you…’ her voice fell to a whimper, ’you have an overdue book…’

Minh looked blank for a moment, ’Are you sure?’

’Yes!’ Meredith stuttered, skimming the paper for a name, ’Mr Minh Ande, one copy of The Grand Gourmand: A Recipe Book for the Calorie Counter, checked out… nearly eleven weeks ago?’

’Oh… Oh yeah! Just… just under… here,’ his eyes pointed towards his foot. Sticking out from just under his thigh was the book (paperback, 314 pages, Dewey 641.5, ISBN 978-0572034818). Meredith reeled at the horror, unable to stop herself imagining the book’s bent spine and creased pages; not to mention the staining it must have suffered from the otter’s filthy body.

She inched closer, trying to inspect the damage without getting too close to the foul aura emanating from Minh, ’You know there’ll be a fee for replacing this… right?’

Without missing a beat, Minh belched, his shapeless mass of folds jiggling around in the aftershock. Meredith reeled again, ’Some weight loss book this turned out to be…’ She felt dirtier just being in the same room as this beast; and she wanted out. She reached across the ditch of discarded, rancid food containers that lined the sides of the bed to grab the book, but she had barely laid a feather upon the cover before the pages decided to snatch her instead. Her body tingled all over, magical energy coursed up through her wings and into her head, addling her mind and her memories. The paperwork dropped to the floor, followed seconds later by her head.

* * *

Meredith had been listed as a missing person for slightly over a month by now. She hadn’t returned to the library after her round and her flat hadn’t been touched. Police and colleagues were at a loss. A few posters had been splashed around town and a small local news segment had shown an old photograph for all of a few seconds, but no concrete sightings had yet emerged.

Meredith belched thickly as her wings grasped at her round, heavy gut; filled (and stained) with the delivery of some fifty large pizzas not even an hour earlier. She was sat on the thin rim of the bed, leaning against the otter’s bulk. She felt sated, but frustratingly not content. Even as her weight silently ticked over seven hundred pounds, a nagging in the back of her mind called for her to grow larger still. She audibly whined, lamenting how small she felt. Her skirt was torn and her blouse barely contained her breasts, but she felt small.

The feeling was not helped by Minh, who in the last month had seemingly expanded his girth by another eight or nine tons. His body had grown increasingly shapeless as each little part of him overfilled their already overfilled bounds. The only things he seemed capable of moving at all were his mouth and his arms, which had remained muscular from near constant use—unhindered by the several hundred pounds of immobilising lard That swaddled them.

He had grown as disgusting as he had fat. Sweat seemed to pour from his body, matting his fur and staining the boards as it pooled on the floor. It congealed anywhere it settled, forming a viscous brown slime that stuck to anything it came into contact with. Even Meredith had it clinging to her feathers. The stench was only made worse by Minh’s gas, every few bites of food interspersed by belches of varying strength, each one growing significantly worse whenever a few gallons of soda got involved.

She didn’t know why, but Meredith couldn’t help but envy him. His size, his excess, his appetite and carefree life. She wanted it all. Quietly she pushed herself deeper into his sticky, sweaty gut, embracing in her wings the dozens of tons of warm softness that lived within it, making a mental note to increase their next order by a few hundred pizzas. Maybe there was something in that diet book after all…