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It all started with a hangover - or what she thought was a hangover.

Chloe woke up one morning with a pounding headache, sluggish movements, and a bad case of the munchies. At first, it was a little confusing - so far as she recalled, she didn't drink at all the night before, but she fully excused it as something she just didn't remember. Her day was simple; head to class, hang out with max, head home, and pass out.

Chloe woke up the same morning with a pounding headache, sluggish movements, and a bad case of the munchies.

She checked her phone first, then her laptop - wondering if something might've gotten messed up with their calendars; but everywhere she looked told her the same thing - as far as the universe was concerned, her day yesterday didn't happen.

"The fuck is this Groundhog Day bullshit?" she remembered thinking.

Her first inclination was to skip class and head to Max - but as she was getting ready, she discovered something else - even if the date hadn't changed, she had.

Pulling up her tank-top, she saw the beginnings of a chubby little gut poking out over the waistband of her pants. At first she was unconvinced that it wasn't just some trick of the light, or the stress of the situation making her see something that wasn't there - but as her fingers caressed the curvature of her stomach; dimpling into the flesh just slightly...

She screamed in frustration. What the hell was going on!?

Max didn't have any answers. Mercifully, Chloe didn't have to go through a whole routine of proving her predicament - her friend accepted the situation readily and easily. She seemed a little evasive; but Chloe knew she wasn't lying about anything. They talked about it over lunch - and from lunch, into dinner. Over the course of the day, Chloe came to prescribe her new... Paunch to her appetite, which didn't seem to lessen any since she'd awoken.

After parting ways with hopes they might see each-other again tomorrow, Chloe returned home, and to bed.

Chloe woke up the same day.

She expected the headache and sluggishness; and damn-near counted on the low warble of hunger rising from her stomach - but what she didn't anticipate was what had become of her body.

Gone was the little bit of pudge resting on her stomach - having exploded into a plump and curvy figure across her whole body. She had a defined gut that made her top ride up, a set of thick thighs that strained her pants as she squeezed herself into them. Even her face had grown a little rounder. Her figure had devolved into a pear shape - something that left her aghast.

It took her a little longer to get ready this morning - even if her body had grown, her wardrobe hadn't kept up. Showering and getting dressed took a few minutes longer - but what consumes the largest part of her morning routine was breakfast. She wasn't satisfied by a quick bowl of cereal or toast - she had to have a full meal. She realized how it was eating into her time; but she swore she'd leg it as soon as she was done...

But despite her best efforts, all her rushing got her was tired and sweaty. She couldn't intercept Max before she got to class - and the last thing she wanted to do was show up to school looking like a sausage exploding out of its casing. Chloe returned home, downtrodden and hungry. The run took a little more out of her than she anticipated - as the day wore on into the evening, she passed out with her hand buried in a bag of chips, snoring loudly as she was brought into another day...

Another day she'd been living for the past few days, of course.

When Chloe awoke; her skin feeling sticky with sweat, and her bed strewn with food wrappers, she almost thought she'd progressed a day - but a quick survey of her phone dashed her hopes. What had progressed, however, was what she'd been dreading.

No longer was she just 'curvy' - her body was dumpy, overweight and flabby. She'd cursed her clothes for not keeping up the day prior, but now that they had, they'd twisted into a rather plain selection of unflattering t-shirts and stretchy pants to accommodate her girth. Checking herself in a mirror, her hair seemed a little different - greasier, stringier, and the dye seemed to be washing out; exposing her roots.

Showering was a hassle with her new bulk - this incarnation of herself didn't seem to take particularly great care of herself, either. A bit of curly blonde hair stuck out from beneath her thicker arms; and a dense thatch of it rested on her crotch. She was tempted to shave it off - or at least take care of the stubble on her arms and legs - but Chloe was tempted more by the prospect of breakfast. She wasn't totally convinced she'd cleaned herself thoroughly by the time she stepped out of the shower - but she was in a rush today. She had to get to Max before this got worse.

Chloe was wheezy and out of breath by the time she chased Max down - the sight of the winded girl barrelling toward her evidently scaring her. Max seemed uneasy as Chloe caught her breath, sputtering out her story - about her little time loop, about her changes, about how they'd talked about this before.

Understandably, Max didn't remember - but more damningly... Max didn't remember her. Sure; Chloe was familiar - familiar, especially, as she was now. They didn't know each-other well - but Max recognized Chloe as... "The fat kid." She didn't buy Chloe's story - and timidly backed away while the flabby girl was still absorbing her friend's reaction.

"Maybe you're confused," Max said. "why don't you go home and get some rest, Carl?"

Snapped from her demoralized reverie, Chloe managed to sputter out "Carl?" before she blacked out.

Chloe woke up in bed.

On the same day she'd been suffering through.

Time and time again.

Yet, even if the date was the same, everything was different, each time. Her own body; the world around her... Her relationships.

Everything was different. Everything was strange; alien - most of all, the body she now found herself in.

She brushed aside a stained sheet to look over her body. She didn't seem that much heavier than yesterday - but decidedly hairier. Her pubes rose up to a greasy treasure trail over her fat belly, and the stubble on her arms and legs had become a light dusting now. Her breasts actually seem to have swelled, which in any other circumstances she might've been happy with. Reaching up to the hair - all of the dye seems to have washed out of the stringy, strawberry-blonde locks she now didn't seem to care for.

She sighed - her voice bearing an unfamiliar, bassy quality. Looking over to her bedside table, she could see candy wrappers sitting upon it - and peeking over the edge of the bed, she could see more littering the floor. With a sigh, she lies back and rests her head on her sticky pillow.

It was hard to get out of bed - because she didn't know what kind of life she'd be walking into. Max didn't know who she was - did anyone else? Did she even go to school anymore?

Her stomach growled heavily. That was reason enough for her to finally leave the confines of her smelly mattress. As she sat up, she reached behind herself to scratch her hairy, flabby rear...

And she felt an unfamiliar sensation between her legs. She hadn't exactly been thorough with her survey - and admittedly, her stomach obscured her lower half quite a bit. The sensation was... Odd, and with a specific as it was, it sent a chill up her spine. It could only be one thing...

And as her hand - feeling thicker and more calloused than she was used to - came to grope a heavy, hairy ballsack and brush against the greasy, flaccid surface of a cock, she knew _exactly_what it was.

Chloe yelled - a dull, baritone voice escaping her lips.

Carl.

_ _

That's what Max called her, right? She had almost forgotten, in her prior shock and current depressive haze. Even if she was fully cognizant, she wouldn't have made the connection until she felt that... Thing between her legs. Fucking with her weight was one thing. Her sense of hygeine, another - but her pussy? That was over the line - that was over the fucking line!

She had to do something about this; something fast. She couldn't stand this - but...

Her mind raced - but got nowhere. She had no idea what to actually do; where to go, or who to talk to. Names raced across her mind as she filtered through a mental list of contacts - but interjecting into her search was the name Carl. That's who she was in this world; who she was supposed to be, but obviously not what she wanted.

Chloe was Chloe, she thought. Chloe wasn't Carl. Carl was a hairy, gross fatass. Carl left trash everywhere, Carl stuffed her face, Chloe was holding onto his fat cock, feeling it stiffen, and-

No! No, that was wrong!

Chloe looked down; one hand dimpling into her(?) flabby gut as she(...?) lifted it up. Her(...) other hand was wrapped tightly around the length of his(.) cock. When Chloe came to mind, there was no reaction, and yet... Carl made it twitch; the greasy length sliding across the palm of his(!) hand as it rose up to full mast.

God, it was huge. Huge and thick. And it was his(!!!).

Carl bit his lip. He... Needed to do something. Needed to do something...

But he wasn't in a rush. If these days kept repeating, then he had all the time in the world, didn't he? All he had to do was keep sight of his goal.

He just had to remember.

He had to stroke- he had to remember.

He had to...

Carl woke up in the nude. The first thing he saw, as he opened his eyes, was his body - his flabby moobs, dusted a little with hair, sagging down over his rotund gut. Bringing a hairy arm beneath it, he found the familiar shape of his cock - it rested comfortably in the palm of his hand, his morning wood trying its damnedest to surmount the girth of his gut, but falling just short.

He had one of those dreams again - about the girl with blue hair. Nice body, rebellious demeanor... She'd been popping up in his head for a month now; before that, he remembered she was still on his mind, but he hardly remembered how.

The longer he thought of her, the softer he got. A rumbling belch rose to his lips; which came to rest in a small sneer as he tried to perish the thought. Her presence in his head was an anomaly - a mystery to him; and not one he wanted to solve. She was a hitchhiker in his train of thought. Mercifully, she was appearing less and less - cropping up in his thoughts every couple of weeks; and for shorter and shorter each time.

His free hand swung over to his bedside table, knocking over an empty can of beer and a couple of still-populated bags of chips. His arm returned to him with a wrinkled copy of STUDZ magazine - something that evoked a gruff, lecherous chuckle. Carl's cock rose to full mast again - and he started to stroke. With as long as it'd been happening, Carl had devised a surefire way to push the blue-haired back into the darkness of his subconscious - and hopefully, out of his head for good. He'd already started to forget about by the time he got to the hunky fireman-

And it wouldn't be long until he... Cleared his head, after that.