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magicalara · 1 year

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Mindless Chapter 1: Hate Me

Stress eating causes a hell of a time for a certain William T. Spears. Between the issues that comes mentally from putting on weight and his own friendships, he needs to fix himself, even if it kills him.

A series made by me and @eemoo1o-animoo where chubby!William takes on a new sphere of well...a lot of angst. TW for unspecified eating disorders eventually, body dysmorphia, and mentions of s3x (nothing explicit)

The link to the ao3 version can be found here

Please enjoy and lmk if I did something wrong story starts under the cut

The frigid cold of the winter always resulted in more work for the Collections Division in the Grim Reaper Dispatch. The colder it was, the more likely it was that people would die; and the more people died, the more paperwork and issues there would be for workers. Already short staffed, the last thing that any of the reapers wanted was more overtime on top of what they already have to do. Yet, overtime seemed to be the eternal fate for a grim reaper and so each one found themselves looking for their own ways to cope through the harsh winter ahead. For one worker, a manger of sorts by the name of William T. Spears, that coping mechanism included frequent snacking throughout the day. What he originally saw as a pack of cookies here and a bag of chips there quickly became a bigger habit full of stress eating; a habit which he thought would be easy enough to break.

After a year of endless snacking on the man’s part, it all came to fruition one day while William was getting dressed to go to work and he noticed the tear in the seam down his thighs, on his favorite pair no less. With a sigh and a cock of his head, he put it down to wear and tear and put the pants to rest, grabbing another one from the closet only to see how the vast majority of his pants were either in similar disrepair or on the verge of it. With each pair he held up to the light, he could either see the fabric thinning out or see the start of a hole already.

“How…” he thought aloud. He couldn’t even remember when this could have started. Sure, he might have had a few too many cookies here or there, but nothing that could cause anything like this, surely. William was sure that he could beat the habit and it wouldn’t cause any ill effects on his physical being. Though if he thought about it, his pants have started being a little tight on his waist. His collar has been somewhat constricting lately. Now noticing the holes, he was aware of how his thighs rubbed together even just from him standing there in his room. Stealing a glance at the clock, he pulled on the first pair of pants he found without any signs of tear and rushed out the door hoping to not be late. These thoughts could wait, paperwork, most unfortunately, could not.

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Thankfully, after a few hours of work, William was able to put the thoughts completely out of his mind. There was simply too much to do for him to be thinking about his body and all that was wrong with it. He couldn’t even remember the issues at all. In fact, the biggest issue plaguing him at that very moment was how he skipped out on breakfast and his stomach was starting to feel the effects of that. Deciding he could take a break, William got up with a grunt to head to the break room where he knew there would be a vending machine with a nice snack for him to have.

As he walked down the hallway, he could hear the voices of those obviously not doing what they were supposed to get louder. Generally ignoring it, he continued on his trek, thinking of what he should get. Perhaps some of those chocolate cookies he had last time, or the sticky marshmallow cereal bar he heard another reaper raving about earlier in the week. All the decisions to think about, until a voice slightly louder than the rest seemed to drift out from the crowd.

“Look at him, he’s going out again.” William vaguely recognized the voice as a new full reaper he had seen finishing their training not too long ago. Realizing that he was the reaper was talking about, he slowed his walking a bit to be able to listen more.

“For such a respectable man, he could really lose a few don’t you think?” they continued. Hearing the agreeing replies from others the first was speaking to, William sped his walking again, his brows furrowed as he focused on the floor in front of him. Was it really that noticeable? Were his thoughts from this morning truer than he originally pushed them off as?

William hesitated as he rounded the corner towards the break room, before walking past the entrance deciding not to go in after all. He made sure that he didn’t go back the way he came, even going down to a different floor entirely to ensure he didn’t run into anyone on the way back. If this was what they said when he could have heard them, what is it that they said when he wasn’t there entirely? There was no way his body was such a hot topic that so many people talked about him like that. On top of how unprofessional it was, it could even be classified as workplace harassment if he really wanted to do something about it. It just couldn’t be something so pertinent that others noticed that much to even notice his habits. He was better than that. He had to be.

The whole day, the thoughts of how others saw him came in and out of his brain. William thought of what his close friends must have thought. There was no way they all thought of him in that way did they? Surely not. After all, Grelle would still flirt with him. It wouldn’t make sense for her to continue pursuing him if she didn’t see him as the physically attractive man she had always been making advances on. Yes, surely if she didn’t think less of him then it was just a one-off event with a group of especially ruthless newbies who knew no better.

Yet, even while he clung desperately to that thought, he couldn’t help but notice the pain in his lower stomach from where his pants dug in when he stood after sitting for too long; couldn’t help but notice how his desk pressed into him a little more than usual. Even the arms of his chair felt constricting at one point. All of it becoming too much, William pulled himself out of his thinking by putting away the last of his files for the day to get home. Remembering he hadn’t eaten much all day, he chalked all this thinking to that. William left the office, deciding he’d pick up his favorite takeout on the way home, unconsciously taking extra paths to not have to approach anyone as he went.

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Condensation filled the small bathroom as William took his shower. He didn’t like to think too much about a routine or anything similar, preferring to treat it as an in and out situation. Today, though, as he stood dripping wet and naked in front of his mirror, he couldn’t help but stare.

Without his glasses on, he was but a silhouette. The same silhouette that he was used to seeing for years. He couldn’t see all of the little details, but he knew he had wide shoulders and a fairly rectangular body. He knew his legs weren’t particularly defined like those of some of his colleagues, but they worked just fine to hold him up. The body that William had come to be so familiar with over the half century (he was sure it was more, but his true age tends to escape him unless he thinks hard on it) was average, that much was true, but it was also him. His personality wasn’t much more than average, so he didn’t see a reason for his body to not have to match or outclass.

When he put his glasses on and wiped away the fog on the mirror, his green eyes first focused on his face. What he remembered as sharper angles and sharper expressions was now rounder than he knew. His cheeks fuller, his chin rounder and jawline practically nonexistent. William recognized his nose, which he vaguely remembered being told was his mothers, and the double irises he quickly had to get used to glowing green. The rest, though, the rest he almost couldn’t believe was his face. What happened to the glasses he had had for years that would slip down his face? He could practically feel the nose pads digging into the bridge of his nose, pinching it and keeping it still in ways he was not used to.

Moving down to scan over his midsection, he noticed how everything seemed to just sag more. His once flat chest seemed to jut out uncomfortably, not with muscle like he had seen some of the other men have, but with fat that sagged and jiggled if he moved too suddenly. He saw his stomach flop out over his waist. Sure, he could see over it when he looked down, but it was plenty more noticeable than it was before.

All along his skin, he noticed groups of red lines. He rubbed his hand over them and felt how they spread out from his skin. They were smoother than they looked, but still rough around the edges as they went from actual skin to the marks. He followed them over his stomach down to his thighs where he became much too aware of the feeling of them sticking together. The heat and residual water between them forming painful feelings when he shifts his weight, rubbing them against each other. Even his penis didn’t look the same anymore. Sunken in and hidden by folds in his stomach, if he didn’t think much about sex before, he certainly knew he couldn’t be seen as desirable anymore.

William grabbed and poked his skin until it stopped feeling like his anymore, but instead something akin to a mannequin he might see in a store. Even looking dead in the mirror faced with the reality that this was, in fact, his body, William couldn’t believe it. When did he get so…so big? At what point did the William T. Spears he was previously so accustomed to seeing in passing reflections become the thing he was seeing in front of him?

When he found he couldn’t stand to look at himself anymore, he walked out of the bathroom on shaky legs. Not even bothering to turn on the light or put on his night clothes, William felt around to find the edge of his bed before sitting down. There he sat, staring at everything else he could to avoid staring at his body more. He could barely even stomach calling it his body anymore. Needless to say, William didn’t get much sleep that night.

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The next morning, William, against his better judgment, decided to go into work. He spent the whole of the morning hiding out in his office, desperately hoping that no one would come in. The man couldn’t remember a time where he felt worse. Hair disheveled, shirt only half-tucked, and tie much looser than normal around his neck, William looked worse than he ever had in all his years as a reaper.

Thanks to his little panic from last night, he wasn’t feeling quite well either. Starting from when he woke up, his stomach kept turning and he had the ever-present feeling that he would vomit any minute.

As much as he wished to be alone for the rest of the day, however, it would seem that luck wouldn’t be on his side, for a little past lunchtime, he got an unexpected visitor. Ronald Knox wasn’t a slacker per say, he just had a tendency to “ask for help” as a way to get some others to do his paperwork for him. This day just so happened to be William’s turn.

When the two-toned haired reaper entered the office, he immediately knew something was wrong without even having to look at the elder. For one, the lights were off with the only source of it coming from the door that he had just opened. The only other time that Ronald had ever known William to turn off the lights, he had quickly learned to never cross paths with a Spears who had a migraine lest he be given overtime for the next week. Debating whether or not to turn around and ask someone else, he caught the sight of his disheveled boss and with a cock of his head decided if he was in for the penny, he might as well be in for the pound.

“Hey, Mr. Spears,” he tried greeting, “your lights all okay? You don’t usually have them off.” The younger gave what he hoped looked like an encouraging smile, that slightly deflated at the sigh the elder gave out in response.

“Yes, Knox, my lights are just fine,” William responded, more monotone than usual, Ronald noticed, “Is there something that you need?” As much as William might have appreciated that Ronald didn’t go straight for the kill in asking for a favor on any other day, today was not an optimal time for it. He’d much rather the boy said what he wanted and left him alone.

“Well, uh, I just wanted to know how you were doing. Feels like I barely saw you yesterday and I don’t remember seeing you come out for lunch. You usually have it in the break room with everyone else, but I can’t actually think of a time that you’ve come out at all today. Just a bit worried, y’know? Not quite like you. Not that I’d want to assume anything or, uh, anything like…that…” Ronald trailed off at the end realizing he was rambling at the hard stare that William gave him. Clearing his throat, he tried again.

“So, Miss Sutcliff is dragging me out to this restaurant she found the other day. I don’t know if she told you about it, but it’s been a while since we all hung out together,” Ronald said. William had a feeling he knew where this was going and, not liking the prospects, he could feel himself zoning out. The younger reaper caught the emptiness starting to take over the stare, but kept going, hoping to get something good out of his persistence.

“You should come along, sir,” Ronald smiled to try and be encouraging, and then hastily added, “Of course, only if you want to!” He gave a few more details of where they'd be meeting after their shift in case he wanted to join in the end and left with a small salute, muttering something about paperwork he had to finish.

William didn’t fully grasp what had happened, his mind going back to the dark place it resided the night before. Was it that obvious how bad his eating habits had gotten? If he went out with them, would they judge him for how much he ate? Did Grelle and Ronald also think the things that those others did yesterday? Did they also think of him as a pig? A fat pig who could lose a few?

At one point in time, there were plenty of people who’d compliment him on his looks. Now, he couldn’t even remember the last time someone came to him for something that wasn’t paperwork related. Even if he’d brush them off sometimes, people used to still come talk to him about non-work related things. When was the last time that had happened? When was the last time even Grelle had flirted with him? If Ronald noticed, surely she did as well.

Fat. Ugly. Useless. Undeserving. A waste of space. A pig.

William continued down this train of thinking for so long, he barely registered the knock at his door a few hours later. Looking up in shock, he saw a head of bright red hair peek through the opening, a lovely smile on the woman’s face.

“Will, darling!” she said in a sing-song, “Ronnie told me he invited you to come with us, you’re still coming aren’t you?” Waiting for an answer, she pouted slightly and tried to convince him to say yes.

Not fully understanding the question and still hazy from being pulled out of his spiral of thoughts, William nodded absentmindedly. Seeing the nod, Grelle’s face lit up once again as she squealed and invited herself into his office properly to grab his hand and promptly drag him to where Ronald was waiting leaned against a wall. Noticing the two coming closer, he nodded and they made their way down the road, Grelle taking the lead.

William didn’t bother taking his hand out of Grelle’s grip, letting her tug him to what he vaguely remembered being told was a restaurant she had found. It wasn’t until he was sitting in a booth on the opposite side of the other two reapers that he found his surroundings.

Sat on a velvety seat which he sunk into a lot more than he would’ve liked to notice, William could feel the table dig into his waist. It was an uncomfortable feeling that made him want to throw up the longer he thought too much about it. As to distract himself from the realization, he did his best to tune into the conversation that Grelle and Ronald were having.

“It’s so cute here, isn’t it, Will? Ron?” Grelle gushed to the group. “I absolutely fell in love with the décor—and the food is just to die for!”

William looked around, noticing the majoritively grey walls with accents of red decorations around. The tables and chairs were a dark oak that shined slightly with some sort of varnish with each of the chairs also having the same lining of velvet on the seat that the booths did. It would have been quite cozy, under any other circumstance (especially if William wasn’t stressing himself into an early second-grave).

When the waiter eventually came around to take their orders, William simply asked for water, distrusting of his ability to stomach anything that would only add to his corpulence. He could feel Ronald’s stare on him after he ordered, burning into his flesh; the younger reaper had worked out far more than he was comfortable with him knowing. Avoiding his gaze, but remaining painfully aware of it, William did his best to follow along with whatever office gossip Grelle had started telling them about.

Throughout the evening, he took reserved sips of his water. No one prompted him to give input on the conversation, so he didn’t give many tip-offs to go by. He preferred to just listen, anyway, as it meant he didn’t have to pay too much attention. However, it was this mistake that led his mind to wander back to everything that was wrong.

The night was gradually becoming more suffocating. Agitating.

Stupid little things kept building up: things like the table digging into him more and more as time went on, causing a dull pain to form in his fleshy abdomen; fluorescent lights which seemed to be getting brighter and brighter the more he looked at them; pins were being slowly hammered into his temples; his body flushing until he was burning at an uncomfortable level. It was hard to breathe—no wonder, too: pigs didn’t deserve to breathe.

Each discomfort that built up made William’s very perception fuzzy—each sway of his head was slow and sticky and not right. The corners of his vision were dark, and he barely had time to register the idle chit-chat between Grelle and Ron, still sitting in front of him and he couldn’t bring himself to fully listen no matter how many times he repeated the command to sober up and to focus in his head.

Get out, come on, Spears. This isn’t right. You’re not right. Something’s off. They’re talking; they’re happy talking.

Grelle laughed musically through the restaurant’s din, though what she said to Ronald just after was completely lost.

You’re not needed here. They can handle things without you. At least leave them something to pay with.

William was going to vomit. He could feel the bile rising. It made his hot flush burn further, incinerating his cheeks like paper to a flickering flame. Come on, Spears. Let’s go. Let’s get out of here. We’re not wanted.

Couldn’t breathe.

We need to go before we do something unfathomable.

William stood up abruptly, room now taking the opportunity to twist around like a cement mixer, and he started murmuring what he hoped sounded like an apology before fumbling his way like the clumsy old hippo he was out of the restaurant.

Couldn’t breathe.

Fresh air hit his face like a cold slap. He didn’t know exactly where he was, but knew if he could get himself to an alleyway, a bench, a park, anywhere else but there, he’d be okay. He had to be. If he wasn’t okay by then, then there was no hope. He’d be an irredeemable hog… that’s it—that’s what was wrong: everything. Everything was wrong. He was wrong. His mind was telling him so this entire time; when had his mind ever failed him?

William’s breathing was getting faster and faster by the second; the more steps he took, the more his legs seemed to melt into slush.

All he did was close his eyes, and the next thing he knew, he was falling, and then he managed to just barely register the feeling of two sets of hands gripping around his upper arms to hold him up.

This was it. He was going to throw up. He attempted to wrench his arms out of their grips as best he could, but to no avail. Due to his lack of energy, William quickly had to surrender and allow himself to be half-dragged to… well, he wasn’t sure. This could have been a kidnapping for all he knew.

Then, as soon as they got past what William recognized as the threshold of his apartment’s front door, he promptly lost all sense of consciousness.

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The next morning, William shot up with adrenaline stored from his panic attack the night before. Halfway up, he was met with a sharp pain as his head collided with another’s. Without his glasses, he couldn’t see the intruder’s face too clearly, however just a glance at the red blur of hair that surrounded him made it easy to guess who it was.

Sighing, William looked around in an attempt to gain his surroundings. Everything was still so blurry, so he couldn’t deduce much, just that he was on his couch, from what he could feel. Next to him, where he’d been laying, was a bright smudge of red.

Not scarlet, not crimson, red. And he knew that specific shade of red well: Grelle. And where he estimated her lap to be had… wait, had he been laying on her lap? His cheeks started to incinerate at the very thought—how- how forward. Looking around, he could see the silhouette of what—from the faint, absentminded whistling—might have been Ronald in his kitchen.

Ears finally tuning in to all the household clamor, William heard the tap of the sink running, and the garble of a story as the two spoke in fragments trying to explain the events of the night prior.

To him. They were talking to him.

Despite hearing the words, he couldn’t seem to catch more than a few fragments. Something about a restaurant, then water. Something about dragging.

You.

Couch.

William took a while to repeat what was being told to him, even finding himself muttering dumbly in reverb. And, then, finally he constructed the distant phrase: We carried you onto the couch.

They carried him.

Impossible. He was much too heavy for anything like that nowadays. Surely, Grelle and Ronald couldn’t have done that. The thought alone had him near hyperventilation again, blind eyes quick to widen.

Not here, not again. Not so soon. Don’t embarrass yourself again, Spears, come on.

“William?”

They’d think you’re pathetic.

“Mr. Spears?”

You’ll be taken out with no forgiveness. Put down forever.

“William!”

William’s head snapped up, blank mind startled as he stared at Grelle, who lowered herself to his face. She was worried, and about him no less.

This would not do.

It couldn’t do.

He had to get them to leave before he hurt them more. “Leave,” he finally muttered.

“Will, dear,” Grelle started.

“I said leave!” William stood up now, “Get out!”

Grelle moved to stand, hand gripping his shoulder in what would have been- could have been- a reassuring grip. Ronald moved forward quickly, defensively, as if he was worried about any sudden actions that William would take on Grelle.

William felt a twinge of surprise as the readability of the action overwhelmed him: did Ronald really think- think that he’d..?

No. He had every right to think that. Even William didn’t know what he was capable of doing.

“No,” William said firmly, grabbing his glasses from the coffee table and pushing Grelle’s hand away harshly. He glanced at her face and saw both fear and worry, then looked away, unable to bear it. He met Ronald’s gaze next, and the two looked at each other for a second, before William couldn’t stand to look at him either, turning around completely to look at the door.

“Neither of you are doing any good staying here. This is highly unprofessional, both of you. While the sentiment is highly appreciated, the two of you should have left me. Now, please, leave,” William said out of formality. His breathing was staggering again and he knew that if they didn’t leave soon—well—he didn’t know what he’d do.

The next movement was so sudden that it made him flinch: Ronald set down a glass of water he must have poured for William on the counter with a nod before slowly approaching Grelle, who now stood just a few paces away from him. Ronald had never seen his usually so fiery superior and friend so worried and quiet before, but knew that if he wasn’t the one to get them out of the apartment, it would never happen. Going up to her, Ronald gently put a hand on Grelle’s shoulder and led her out of the room, sparing a last glance at William.

“Very well, then. Good day, to you, sir,” he said. “Hope you’re feeling better soon. Oh, and—uh—try to drink some water, will you? It’s good for ya.” Then, he closed the door behind him, a gentle click filling the apartment, acting as a seal to William’s fate as he was, at last, left alone.

The minutes that passed afterwards felt like hours. Feeling twice his already-gargantuan weight, William collapsed back down onto the couch, a sickly sinking feeling in his fat, ugly chest. He grabbed the water Ronald had told him to drink, and took a dainty sip. Letting out a shaky sigh, William discarded the effort of making it through the too-cold, too-water water, and made it to the kitchen.

Knees weak and hands trembling, William went to pour the glass down the sink. He saw his pudgy fingers around the glass’ circumference; noticed the way that they smudged the glass. Were they even bigger than just two nights ago? Surely such a change wasn’t possible…

Yet, there he stood, head swirling as he stared holes into his too-big hands. The glass was held tight enough to cause his knuckles to pale. He glared at his thick sausage-fingers and thought back to what they’d once looked like.

Awful. Hideous.

He’d eaten his way into pigdom, and he’d no one to blame but himself. He compared the two versions of himself in his mind, his present form a true contradiction to the man he once was able to look in the mirror and see.

He had to reverse this, somehow.

Even if he couldn’t get rid of the disgusting lumps and bumps that now marked his flesh. Even if his skin was never the same, remaining an irreversible canvas of reminders ro never fuck up like this again.

You’ll do whatever you have to. Even if it kills you.

Nodding to himself, William turned to his small pantry and started pulling out everything he could see that would hinder him in his goals.

Even if it kills me…

Taglist: @whereismybiryani @it-calls-itself-steven @superjelly11

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