Be careful around your cousin!

I'm moving this from deviantart here, and in higher resolution.

"Be careful at my sister's house," my mother cautioned, pointing her finger at me, "I know what fresh country air does to you."

I was fairly certain she wasn't afraid of what the air would do to me. "Mom, I’m twenty four. And it's only for the summer."

"Be especially careful around your cousin,” she continued.

I cringed. I wasn't visiting some midwest vampires. “Mom stop, Daisy was always there for me.”

"That's  what worries me. You two come from the same stock. Your great-grandma's  generous genes. My sister should have been much stricter with Daisy, in  my opinion. Even you are already stretching that dress far more than a  girl your age should.”

Did I mention my cousin is the coolest person I know?

At  school, girls would always talk about their families as if they were  born with gold dentures in their mouth, or whatever they give rich  newborns. "Oh, my cousin, Annabelle-Beatrice the third,  lives in London  and spends her weekends shopping in Tokyo for poodles. She is truly  incredible. Where did you say your cousin was from? "

"I didn't . And you wouldn't know where it is anyway.”

As  a teen, my life was dreadful. Girls at school felt compelled to inform  me all the time that I was filling my skirts more than they were. My  mother, too, assumed her widening adolescent daughter only wanted to  talk about diets.
But once summer arrived  and I packed my belongings to visit my aunt and, especially, my cousin,  everything would fade away and I'd be free.

Daisy  would set me straight as soon as I set my luggage down  on her room's  squeaky floor. "Emma, as a punishment, for every self-depreciating word  you say, you must eat another cookie. You are the smartest cousin I  have."

"Oh Daisy, you're so sweet.  But what is the reward if I don't?"

"Pound cake."

It  was no surprise that every summer I returned home chubbier and with my  ass wider than ever. That's the country air my mother was referring to.

Did I ever mention Daisy was a big girl? She was, indeed. And each time I saw her, she had grown even larger.

The  middle school ended, and we were drawn apart by college. Every year, we  planned a get-together, but something always came up. That is, until  now. I graduated and found myself with a free summer. And it smelled of  home baking.

When I arrived at the farm, I  was a bit shocked to put it mildly. I didn't change much during college.  My mother’s questionable diet kept me at least the same as I was at the  end of high school: a chubby 260 pound girl with a generous ass. Daisy,  on the other hand, happily continued in her unstoppable  pursuit of a  carefree, but very sweet and satisfying way of life. It would be  disrespectful to call her big girl now; she was quite proud of her  enormous size. And her face was even more radiant than before.

"Oh  poor Daisy," my mother used to say, "she has such a pretty face, it's a  shame it's far less noticeable than the rest of her."

In  my opinion, you either have a pretty face or don't, regardless of the  size of your body. And Daisy was as naturally beautiful as country girls  come, even if she was now just a tad wider than Aunt's front door.

I told Daisy what my mom said about our grand-grandma's genes.

"It's  true," Daisy nodded as we munched on a cherry cake. "I saw the photos.  Gran-gran was huge. But Emma, genes aren't what they make them to be;  they need some help."

I laughed and took another slice. "Like with this cherry cake?"

"No.  Like with a quart of heavy cream a day."

"Uh, tell me more, Daisy."

"I'll show you, just finish your snack. Have you ever been to our creamery?"

***

When  I called Mom at the end of August and told her I'd be staying at her  sister's house until Christmas, she took it surprisingly well.

"Just watch what you eat."

"Remember the fresh air you were worrying about?" I carefully threaded. "I might have put on some extra weight."

"No wonder, you always gain ten pounds at my sister's."

"I think I got a little bigger this time."

There was a brief pause. "What do you mean? How much bigger are we talking about?

"I'm not sure. Perhaps twenty pounds," I lied.  I was sure it was closer to forty, but my mother didn't need to know.

"All right, “ she sighed, “just be careful. You know how easy it is for you to gain."

That  was very true. Daisy said that based on my delightful summer  performance and with another four months until Christmas, I could easily  gain 50-60 pounds more.

"I will, mom"

I  was secretly hoping for a bit more than 60 pounds, to be honest,  perhaps as a Christmas present for Daisy and, I suppose, for my mother  as well. I had a strong feeling only one of them would be overjoyed.
"Well,  just don't come home looking like a 400-pound copy of my lovely niece,"  my mother joked to the phone. She then also laughed at it. I didn't.

"No worries, mom."

I wanted to point out that my mother last saw my cousin four years ago. That was probably when Daisy was still around 400.
Daisy  told me that her most recent doctor's office weigh-in had her at a much  more generous 530. Since this was before summer, she was probably even  heavier now.
I figured that by the way I  was absolutely overfilling Daisy's old high-school dress, I was likely  getting close to 300 myself.  This would put me at a happy 360 pounds  for Christmas, or possibly a little more if I was a good girl and drank  my heavy cream twice a day, as Daisy instructed.

See, I wasn't lying to my mom, I'd still be way under 400.

400  pounds would require me to stay at least until Easter. Daisy had  already suggested it, and I wasn't opposed to it. But let's take it  slowly and ease my mom into the idea of me becoming a carbon copy of her  niece. After all, we were from the same stock.