I swear, it all started out innocently enough. My wife, Carol, and I had fallen on hard times due to the pandemic, she’d gotten laid off from her position and my hours have been cut due to our clients tightening up their purses the last couple of years. We had a toddler, Marcia, and a cat to feed, as well as ourselves. It was eating up our savings. We didn’t want to be out a home. We were terrified.
One night, while we were sitting at home, she had, at least I thought, jokingly talked about creating an OnlyFans. We toyed with the idea a bit and eventually her face got more serious and she started talking numbers. I loved Carol, I trusted her, and honestly we could use the money.
We talked for a while longer about it, what our boundaries were on. We agreed that it wouldn’t be anything outright lewd or erotic, and she suggested the idea of eating in front of a camera. Apparently it’s a thing, whatever, I guess. I agreed. It seemed harmless enough.
It started out harmless.
We set up a camera in our spare office, facing the desk. Every other night, she would order take-out and eat in there while filming. She would post it wherever online. Things carried on normally like this for a couple of months, she’d order her own food, stuff herself in another room while we ate at the dining table. I’ll admit, the money was good. Good enough that it actually surpassed what she would have been making working a normal job. Carol bumped up to filming once a day. One day at lunch and the other day at dinner. Of course she gained some weight, but, hell, I’m no prime example of vigorous health.
As the weeks went on, she spent more and more time filming these eating videos. We paid off the remainders on our auto loan. We put down a good chunk on our mortgage. We were able to start a college fund for Marcia. Our savings account was looking healthier than ever. Her health, however, wasn’t looking too hot. She’d begun to lose breath quicker than usual. Eventually she stopped coming on our family walks in the park. It wasn’t a big deal, just a couple times a week we would go to stretch our legs. After a while she said she would prefer to stay home for the time being.
At this point I started to get a bit more concerned. No amount of money is worth throwing away your health, even if our insurance would cover whatever came up. I remember talking to her about it, that maybe she should slow down with her project and maybe even cut it off entirely. She was furious with me, she cried, she asked me if I still loved her, of course I told her I do. I did. She was the love of my life, she’d given us our beautiful daughter. I caved in and just pleaded with her to be careful.
As a few more months passed, we saw her less and less, she moved a television into the office. She got a larger, more comfortable chair to sit in. She’d gained so much weight in half a year I did not think it was possible, and I knew sure as hell that it wasn’t healthy. She was having trouble standing without aid, and it seemed like she almost wouldn’t fit through the door to the office, if she tried. I confronted Carol once more about it, and I swear I have never seen my wife get so furious. She was red in the face as she waved her hand around the house, “Keep your GODDAMN NOSE out of my business! This ENTIRE HOUSE and YOU are being paid for by my work! If you don’t support me here, then I will find someone who DOES!” Our daughter had peeked in and began crying.
It was horrible to see her like that. I couldn’t argue with her, she did support us at this point. I began to take her meals in to her, at her demand. She would take the food and glare at me until I left the room again. Any further attempts I made at making her see sense was met with threats of divorce. Of taking the kids. Of destroying my life. I guess I justified myself in being part of this, at least the rest of us were comfortable, money was not an issue to us anymore, and that particular nightmare is not one I ever want to revisit. I used to think financial troubles were the worst kind of nightmare I’d ever face, and honestly, they’re still up there.
A year passed, her mood got worse and worse, and Carol got more and more obsessed with her followers. I never thought that I would describe my wife as looking monstrous, but it almost seemed as if her limbs had begun to shrink. Her arms and legs looked like spindly, useless attachments to her mass. Her neck had fattened to the point that it looked like her head was attached directly to her massive torso. Her mouth seemed much wider than before and she was almost always sweating. She began to scream at me for more food, always more, she would sob if she did not get it. I had to. I didn’t want her to suffer. I never wanted her to suffer.
Our cat disappeared one month ago. It happened on a night when I had taken Marcia out to the playground. Carol had texted me,
I am hungry. Bring me something, now.
I texted back that we were at the park. We wouldn’t be back for another half hour or so.
I am STARVING
We got back with a couple large pizzas for her. Our cat is a bit shy so I didn’t notice until much later in the day he was gone. God, I just assumed we’d left a window open or something.
I swore I was crazy. Carol’s limbs actually looked like they were getting shorter. Retreating within her. She did not look like my wife. Maybe it was not my wife.
The next week I was looking through our accounts for the first time in awhile. Her deposits had stopped a month ago.
She didn’t listen to anything I say. I told her she needed to see a doctor. She could not stand up. I began to cut back on how much food I would bring in to her, but it didn’t seem to halt her growth, which was noticeable on the daily now. All it did was enrage her. She would get red, her face contorted into a snarl, spittle flying from her wide mouth. She would point a shriveled, atrophied arm and scream curses, her eyes beady and full of fury, recessed into her massive head. Her hair had begun to fall out.
I was so fucking terrified. I could not go in and feed her that last day. I could hear her screaming. Then she called for our daughter. Marcia went in. Marcia did not come out. I got worried. I opened the door. I saw Marcia’s foot laying at the base of the monster that used to be my wife.
She ate my daughter, oh god she ate my daughter. When I saw it I couldn’t move for what felt like hours but I know it wasn’t. The monster saw my look of horror. I don’t know what happened. I saw the monster move for the first time since it consumed my wife I don’t know how many months ago. It heaved itself off its perch, it almost seemed to slither, drag itself over towards the door. It couldn’t fit through the doorframe. It pressed hard against it. Oh my god I couldn’t move. The doorframe of the office began to creak horribly and bulge outwards before I came to. I ran, I got in the car, I drove. I’m out now.
Oh my god my daughter what happened to my wife what have I done