Originally published January 22, 2017.
Contains: accelerated weight gain.
When I originally posted this, “Gordolocks and the Three Bears” was too long to make the title.
I got the idea and name for “Fattened Fairy Tales” from TommyKat and his story Fattened Fairy Tales – The Gingerbeard Man. This makes for the second time TommyKat has inspired one of my stories, the first time being One Night at the Beach House, so thanks dude!
Some time after I read The Gingerbeard Man, I got the idea for a similar story based on Goldilocks and the Three Bears. I mean, a story where the protagonist eats a bunch of food meant to sustain a creature as large as a bear and then breaks one of their chairs? It’s perfect! Most tellings of the story seem to portray Goldilocks as a selfish, entitled little shit, so I kept that element in my story. Thus we get Gordolocks, a dashingly handsome man whose handsomeness gives him a serious vain streak and a sense that the world owes him whatever he wants. And so he takes whatever he wants, even if what he wants is porridge that belongs to a family of bears.
Once upon a time, there was a young man named Gordo, who was blessed with strong, angular features; a toned body that was the envy of his friends; and vivid, golden blonde locks of hair hair. At least, he considered himself blessed with his features. One would have been forgiven for thinking such lovely features were wasted on someone whose personality was anything but lovely. Gordo was all outer beauty, and that outer beauty gave him a sense of entitlement to whatever he pleased. With the many gifts and favors showered on him by his many suitors, it was tragically a sense of entitlement that was born out of precedent rather than just vanity.
One day, Gordo went for a walk in the woods and happened upon a house with a rather large door. Walking inside, he found his way into the kitchen, where there were three bowls of porridge laid out on the table: a big, wide bowl; a taller bowl; and a smaller bowl. Feeling a bit peckish from his walk, he sat on the center chair and sampled the porridge in front of him.
Taking a spoonful from the big bowl, Gordo grimaced and said, “This one is too savory.” Taking a spoonful from the tall bowl, he frowned and said, “This one is too sweet!” When he finally tried the small bowl, he grinned said, “Fucking finally.” It was the perfect balance of sweetness, creaminess, and spice to make for a satisfying meal.
Though the third bowl was the smallest one, it was still plenty big for Gordo, who took some time to gobble up the porridge, even given how quickly and greedily he ate. When he finished, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his satisfyingly full stomach, pleasantly surprised at how satisfying the oat mush was. “Mmm, that was good,” he said to himself. “I want more.”
With a push, he shoved himself off of the chair and walked over to the cupboards. He found himself walking with a bit of a gait, so full from the bowl of porridge that he couldn’t walk quite so smoothly as before. It was strange, he thought, that the porridge could be so filling. But he wanted more, and thus he intended to eat more.
To Gordo’s delight, he found a large soup pot filled with porridge already heated up on the stove. He took a ladle from a hook near the counter and took a sip, finding it hadn’t been seasoned at all. Opening the cupboards, he found the spices and pulled down the ones he intended to use, including cinnamon and nutmeg, as well as the salt. He also found a large mixing bowl that was nearly the size of the soup pot, which he pulled down to use later. In the ice box, he found cream and butter, perfect to round out his mix.
After turning on the heat to warm up the porridge again, Gordo started tossing the ingredients into the pot. He mixed it and tasted it until it was to his liking, at which point he turned off the heat. Grabbing some potholders off the wall, he took the soup pot and poured all the porridge into the mixing bowl, pleased to find it all fit inside. He put the ladle in the bowl too, too excited about eating his perfect porridge to waste time eating it with a normal-size spoon.
Lifting the bowl up from the bottom, Gordo hobbled into another room to find a more comfortable place to sit down. He saw three chairs, the first two of which looked too big for him, but the third one looked to be the perfect size. As he carefully carried the heavy bowl, he stepped over the chair and turned around to back into it. Once he sat, he let out a sigh as his arms felt the relief of no longer needing to carry the big bowl that now rested in his lap.
Picking up the ladle, Gordo started wolfing down the porridge, which had cooled to the perfect temperature over the course of his walk. Eating it from the ladle felt more like gulping it than anything else as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful of the creamy, sweet mixture, rounded out with just the right spices to accentuate the flavor. As he ate cup after cup of the filling mix, he could feel the pressure building up in his stomach. But he still had every intention of finishing it, even as swallowing it became more and more difficult.
When the bowel was half empty, Gordo was breathing more heavily, his turgid stomach weighing on him as he kept trying to scarf down the porridge. Losing patience, he dropped the ladle with a loud clang and lifted the bowl up to his mouth. After struggling to carry the full bowl into the living room, lifting up a half-empty bowl was surprisingly easy. Bringing the edge of the bowl to his mouth, he tilted it toward him and started chugging down the mixture. As thick as it was, the creaminess helped it slip right down his eager gullet.
Gordo could feel the porridge building up on the side of his mouth start to drip down his cheeks. But he kept chugging, tilting the bowl higher and higher toward himself as he finished his dish. Once the bowl was nearly vertical, he could feel the porridge start to drip off of the edge closest to him and onto his shirt. He didn’t care; he could buy another one.
What he did care about was that he had finished his porridge. With no spoon in his reach to scoop out what remained, he let go of the bowl and let it fall to the floor, spilling some of the porridge on the ground. His breath was shallow; all of the porridge built up in his stomach pushed out for room wherever it could, and it felt like it was taking space away from his lungs. With a groan, Gordo sat back in his chair and gave his swollen gut a timid rub. He’d slipped forward in the chair and was close to lying down as if it were a bed.
It was probably because Gordo was already so close to the ground that he wasn’t hurt when the chair collapsed underneath him. He was so tired from his full belly that he didn’t notice the wood creaking beneath him, but falling to the ground gave him a jolt that woke him up. “Ugh, great,” he groaned as he lay on top of the fractured pieces of wood. Taking stock of his state, he didn’t feel hurt anywhere, which he was relieved about. If he’d been hurt at all, he would have had a word with the owners of the house about the harm their dangerous furniture had caused him.
With a groan, Gordo wiggled his way off of the wood pile until his butt was on the ground again. With a push, he used the head start given to him by the remains of the chair to resume a seating position. Once the adrenaline of his fall had worn off, he became aware of just how full he was again, making him groan and rub his stomach some more. He knew it wouldn’t do him much good to stay on the floor, so he leaned to the side, pushing against the pressure in his stomach until he’d turned around. With one leg beneath him, he was finally able to push himself up into a standing position.
Once he was finally up, Gordo rubbed his eyes, blinking a few times from his ordeal. He then looked down, only his eyes to shoot wide open, appalled by what he saw. He’d previously been quite proud of his figure, rigorously maintained through diet and exercise to look his best. Now he had a bulbous belly the size of his head sticking out in front of him, pushing his tailored shirt up his torso like some sort of hand-me-down. Though it hurt from how stretched out it was, he was too disgusted to even touch it, let alone give it a rub that might make him feel better.
But once the initial shock wore off, he told himself it would be okay. Surely he was just bloated from the porridge, and while bloat was hardly sightly, at least no one could see him in the woods. He’d just find a place to sleep it off, and he’d look better in the morning.
Trudging his way through the house, Gordo found the bedroom. Looking at the three beds, he went for the smallest one, since he’d had good luck with that approach so far. Turning his back to the bed, he sat down with a groan as he full stomach let out one more pang of protest. Lying to the side, he found the bed was just right, and his full stomach pulled him down into a deep sleep.
“I’m telling you, we’d have better luck if we spread out the berry bushes so they didn’t have to compete for resources,” Mama Bear insisted.
“I just think the bushes know what they’re doing,” Papa Bear argued. “They’ve survived long enough on their own to take care of themselves. They don’t need any bear intervention.”
“Of course they don’t need it. I’m just saying that if we transplanted roots from some of the existing ones to–”
“Mama! Papa! Look!” Baby Bear shouted as he pointed to the house. “You didn’t leave the door open!”
“No,” Papa Bear concurred.
“Who’s in our house?” Mama Bear growled.
Papa Bear looked at his wife, watching her bare her teeth as she looked toward the open door, and pulled Baby Bear back toward him. “Y-you better stay back here with me, junior. Whoever’s in that house, you better not let them get between you and your mama. You know how she gets when someone gets between her and her cub.”
Mama Bear stormed into the house as Papa Bear and Baby Bear followed timidly behind. She started in the kitchen, where she looked over the bowls. “Someone’s been eating our porridge,” she snarled.
“Looks like they tried all three,” Papa Bear added.
“And they ate all of mine!” Baby Bear cried.
Entering the living room next, Mama Bear started fuming when she saw the mess that had been left. “So this beast eats all our porridge, spills it on the floor, leaves their dirty dishes on the ground, and breaks one of our good chairs!” Mama Bear came close to raising her voice, but maintained an imposing snarl all the way through, making Papa Bear keep his distance.
“That’s my chair they broke!” Baby Bear shouted.
“Oh I hope that poor ursa isn’t still here,” Papa Bear said. “Good help them if Mama finds them.”
As Papa Bear followed Mama Bear to the bedroom, Baby Bear still in tow, he was surprised when he rounded the corner and saw her holding in a giggle. “Wha–what’s so funny, dear?” he asked timidly.
“Take a look,” she whispered, as she pointed toward Baby Bear’s bed. Laying in his bed was a puny little human, splayed out like he owned the place, as humans were wont to do.
“Well… that explains a lot.”
“That’s my bed!”
“I bet you we’d give him a really good scare if we all stood over him when he woke up,” Mama Bear whispered to the others.
Relieved to see that his wife wasn’t bracing for a kill, Papa Bear looked at the human and concurred, “Whatever you say, dear.”
The three filed in and stood on one side of the bed, looking down at the human. “Do you suppose he’s hibernating?” Papa Bear asked. “He sure looks like he ate a lot.”
“Oh, he just probably didn’t know what he was getting himself into,” Mama Bear guessed. “Did you see how much porridge he ate? That stuff is meant to be a meal for critters as big as us. It probably would be enough to last him all winter.”
In the midst of their chatter, they heard the human snort, before he slowly opened his eyes. Once they were opened slightly, they shot wide open at the sight of three bears looking down on him. Mama Bear snarled, which was enough to make the human let out a high-pitched scream and scramble out of the bed.
In midst of their laughter, the three bears barely had enough presence of mind to follow him, but the human moved so slowly that it wasn’t hard to keep up. Once they followed him out of the house, Papa Bear asked, “Should we eat him?”
“Nah,” Mama Bear chuckled, still amused by the whole thing. “They’re not enough meat to be worth it. Let’s just chase him long enough to give him a good scare.”
The three bears casually ambled after the human, only needing to maintain a brisk walk to keep up. Occasionally one of them would growl at him, and hearing his scream would make the three laugh even harder. Before long, he slowed down and fell to the ground, panting and out of breath. “Alright, alright, we’ve had our fun, but let’s go home,” Papa Bear said.
“Aw, come on. Let me at him!” Baby Bear said, raising his paws bracing for a fight.
“No, come on, little one,” Papa Bear said. “Pick on someone your own size.”
“He is my size!”
Both Papa and Mama Bear burst out laughing as they put their paws on Baby Bear’s shoulders to guide him home. “Come on,” Papa Bear said. “I’ll make you a new bowl of porridge exactly how you like it.”
“Okay!” Baby Bear shouted as he ran home, forgetting all about the human.
Gordo sat on the ground, panting from his harrowing encounter. He was completely out of breath, and didn’t feel like he could move another step. He looked behind him, afraid that if the bears were still after him, he was done for. But as he watched the trees for several tense minutes, he didn’t see them chase after him. Once he was convinced he was in the clear, he turned his head forward and leaned back, propping himself up with his hands as he caught his breath.
Once the panic had dissipated, Gordo was relieved to find that he didn’t feel as full as he was when he went to sleep. It seemed the porridge had gone right through him, as he would have expected from a dish with so much fiber. With a smile, he leaned forward to get back up and walk out of the woods, vowing never to return…
Only to fall back and have to catch himself again. After another failed attempt, he looked down and was appalled to see that his stomach hadn’t gotten any smaller. It had merely shifted, with the girth not so concentrated near the top. Instead, the top of his belly stuck out along with the bottom, as two love handles peeked out over his pants. His chest now had a heft of its own too, much to his dismay. He apprehensively poked the top of his stomach and found that it didn’t feel firm at all. The soft mass gave way quite easily under his fingertips. Somehow, that one bowl of porridge had put what looked like at least 50 pounds on him. He couldn’t be sure exactly how much he had gained; he didn’t have a reference to judge by, as he didn’t hang out with people that big.
But now, he was one of those people. Knowing what he was up against, he leaned to the side the way he had to to get up while he was still full of porridge. With a few grunts, he resumed a standing position, and found that his shirt didn’t fit him any better than it did after his meal. Trying to power walk like he had before made his new heft jiggle, which distressed him enough that he slowed down to a leisurely stroll. With a groan, he started what he knew would be a long walk out of the forest.
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