Kallie Tell

The Straight and (not so) Narrow: Part 1

Added 2025-12-18 00:25:57 +0000 UTC

I'm so excited to share this commission I've been working on for a while!
The commissioner was specifically looking for a story set in a church (so if that's not your thing you may not love this one lol) and it follows a man named Shane who turns in his destructive habits for fattening ones.
The fit-to-super fat story is over 11,500 words so I've divided it into five parts, and the last two parts are releasing early today for the basic plus tier and up!
I really hope you enjoy:)

“Sunday school?” Ron asked incredulously, his forgotten pint sweating on the table as he stared at Shane with a mix of confusion and vague disdain. “You’re gonna be a Sunday school teacher?”

“It’s not Sunday school,” Shane corrected sheepishly, grabbing his lemonade and taking a slug to hide his discomfort. “It's just a church group. A bible study.”

“You?” Ron pressed. “You? The same dude not legally allowed to return to the state of Nevada? Leading a bible study?”

“Not the whole state,” Shane muttered. “Just Vegas itself.”

“A bible study,” Ron repeated, ignoring his newly principled longtime friend. “Dude. It's just not you.”

“You know I've been…” Shane sighed, too overwhelmed for more pretense. “I’m changing things. I’m trying to change, ok? To be like.. A better guy. So, you know. I’ve been going to church.”

“You’ve been going to church,” Ron echoed dryly, the humor leached from his words and expression.

“And not drinking. And I quit the cigarettes, and vaping, and… you know. I’m turning my life around.”

“Dude, come on,” Ron dismissed with a wave. “You used to pull this shit, like, every other weekend in college. Meanwhile, I don't think I saw you sober once last year.”

“That's kinda the point, Ron.”

“That’s bullshit! You’re in your 20s, that's what your 20s are for. Dude, you’re the man, you’re literally fucking legendary. C’mon. How are you gonna pull bitches if you don’t party?”

“I’m not..”

Shane shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m not doing that anymore.”

“Doing what?” Ron asked, screwing his face in further confusion.

“Pulling chicks.”

“You won't even say bitches?” Ron exclaimed, turning heads on the open air patio where they sat with their drinks. “You won’t even fucking curse?”

“Dude I… Come on. This is important to me, ok? That’s why I wanted to tell you, I thought…I don't know. This is gonna be hard for me, I thought maybe you could support me and stuff.”

“Why would I support this shit? You don’t come out with the boys for like two months, blow off all my texts, and now you want me to what, come to your fucking bible study? Dude, it's like you got brainwashed.”

They sat in silence, Ron finally remembering his libation and taking several large swallows before speaking again.

“It's just weird, dude,” he finally concluded. “You know I got you, whatever. On some real shit, you’re like a brother to me. It’s just fucking weird.”

“Kinda,” Shane finally admitted. “Different, anyway.”

“And you actually like it.”

“Yea.”

“You like the church.”

“Yea.”

“And the fucking lessons, or whatever.”

“Yea.”

“And this isn't about a babe? Like, you’re not just faking so you can hit a thick nun or whatever? Cause lowkey those outfits are kinda-”

“What?” Shane interjected, unwilling to let Ron finish his surely sordid thought. “No. It's not even a catholic church, it's… No.”

“So, you don't wanna go to O’Galligans this weekend then.”

Shane smiled, his heart rate slowly decreasing as his best friend came to terms with the massive lifestyle changes Shane had recently implemented. He'd been dreading this conversation from the second he was aware it would need to occur, and now that Ron seemed to have worked through his feelings, he was thrilled to be able to spend time with him once more.

“I’m gonna have to pass,” Shane answered.

“So fucking weird,” Ron breathed. “How are you not drinking? Like, are you telling me you don't want a beer right now?”

“I mean, kinda,” Shane confessed. “I’ve just been trying to distract myself, I guess.”

“Distract with what? You don't even do anything anymore,” Ron observed.

“The gym mostly. I’ve been going like, twice a day. Three sometimes, if I can't sleep.”

“Damn. You do look kinda jacked now that you mention it.”

“Gay,” Shane ribbed in reply, slipping back into the pair’s familiar roast-based rapport.

“So, you can make gay jokes but you can’t say bitches? What kinda shit is that?” Ron complained. “For real though. The gym is replacing all of it, everything you used to do? And you're ok with that?”

“I mean, yea. It's working.”

“Dude. No drinking, no pussy, no vaping, no partying. I’d kill myself.”

“Thanks,” Shane laughed with an eye roll. “Really appreciate that.”

“No dude, I'm just saying like, damn. You gotta have crazy willpower for some shit like that. Good for you, for real.”

Shane lay in bed later that night working through the contours of his shadowed ceiling with tired eyes, his attempts to lull himself to rest over the last few hours as unsuccessful as they were frustrating. Ron was right about everything he’d said. Shane was known for the kinds of vices that made falling asleep after a long day less of a gentle slide into unconsciousness and more of a belly flop, and the sudden onset of insomnia was one of the worst side effects of his cold turkey transformation.

He rolled over again, hopeful that somehow the 800th repositioning would be the one he required to finally drift into dreamland, and was unsurprised when the effort had the same impact as the previous 799. He finally grabbed for his phone, admitting defeat, and checked the time.

3am.

His gym was 24 hours, so a visit wasn't necessarily out of the question. But while Shane wasn't exactly sleepy, it didn't mean he wasn't tired, both physically and mentally. After his lunch with Ron he’d hit legs and gone for a run, then spent the rest of the evening working on his lesson plans for small group. Being asked to lead after such a short involvement in the church was a real honor for him, and he was taking the position much more seriously than the assistant pastor who’d nominated him had expected. He wanted nothing more than for the class to be perfect, to be exactly what he would’ve needed when he first wandered into the church with no idea what to expect.

His group was for young adults, and while he himself technically fit that designation, he fussed endlessly over the relevancy of the material, aligning each story with modern pop culture events in order to keep the attention of the college students he knew sometimes attended. The entire project was beginning to stress him non-stop, especially as the first day of his study approached with a rapidity that bordered on aggression.

He sighed, yanking his duvet with a tad more force than necessary as he flipped himself over once more. He needed sleep. He could barely focus on his lesson plans without it, much less at his actual job. Leaving for the gym at this hour, while certainly an option that would improve his disposition, would ruin the course of his week, worsen his sleep schedule, and generally raise his stress even further.

He grabbed his phone and clicked it to life, pulling it from the charger as he blinked in the comparatively blinding glow. After a few minutes of scrolling aimlessly, tired and cranky enough to find fault with every post he saw, Shane closed instagram and began to swipe back and forth on his own homescreen, boredom and exhaustion weighing down on him like a seasonally inappropriate quilt.

He sighed once more, ready to click his phone back to darkness, when a notification pinged across the top of the screen:

Up late? So is Can’t Sleep Cookies! Get the fastest midnight snack delivery with Deliveri-Bee.

Bored enough to actually investigate, Shane tapped the pop-up and was brought to a full page ad in the app for the aforementioned cookie, the dramatization of the gooey chocolate chips mid stretch as the cookie was pulled apart by invisible hands enough to make Shane's mouth water.

He hadn't changed his diet much since beginning his new, admittedly restrictive, life path, but his diet had been fairly rigid even before his lifestyle changes. In order to maintain any decent figure while downing anywhere from 9-12 beers each day of the weekend, during the week Shane generally cooked at home while prioritizing veggies and protein, a stark contrast from his drunken Friday, Saturday, Sunday (and occasional thirsty Thursday) McDonald's orders loaded with greasy carbs. Since cutting out the weekend beer binges also meant an end to the drunken McDonald's consumption, Ron's observation at their meeting had been correct; Shane was jacked. He was in the best shape of his life in fact, better shape than he’d ever truly wanted or expected to be in, and he was almost bashful about the way his daily intense gym sessions were beginning to sculpt him. He’d taken to wearing baggier clothes, the opposite of what most would do in his position, and his immediate deflection of Ron's compliment showcased his newfound discomfort.

Despite his passing lamentations about his enviable physique, Shane was such a creature of habit (a trait that harmed him immensely during his days of debauchery but aided him immeasurably during his adjustment into piety) that he hadn’t considered the possibility of changing his meals. He was cooking at home and subsisting primarily on broccoli, brown rice, and chicken breasts, and he realized in the moment, staring at the delicate, surely still warm treat being pushed on him, that the repeated meals with the same seasonings and preparations were driving him mad.

It wasn't as if he didn't eat cookies before, it was just that he only ate them when he was drunk. Why punish himself for giving up the thing that kept his life in chaos? Why shouldn't he have a cookie every now and then just like before, especially considering how much he’d been pushing himself at the gym?

He examined the ad more closely, discovering that the promoted special was a Buy One, Get One Free. Shane added the chocolate chip cookie that had originally caught his eye, a graham cracker flavored s’more cookie which appeared to be topped with an entire toasted marshmallow, and, when promoted by the app to add the restaurant's suggestion, a glass of milk.

His order arrived with a speed that could only be explained by the early morning lack of traffic, and by 3:15 Shane sat holding what he was delighted to find was an exact recreation of the photograph he’d seen, right down to the warm, gooey chocolate melting in each of the cookie’s divets. More excited, and ravenous, than he’d realized, Shane took an enormous bite and all but groaned, the recently unfamiliar taste of dessert enough to delight him after a day marred with tension and a night of frustration.

He removed the top of the milk’s to-go cup and dunked the remaining cookie half inside, devouring it in two bites and licking his fingers. He grabbed the sleeve containing the s'mores cookie, pleased to find it larger than the comparatively diminutive chocolate chip, and tore off the marshmallow, allowing it to melt on his tongue before another large swallow of the now vaguely chocolatey milk, the first cookie's gooey remnants sweetening it further than Shane suspected it was already pre-sweeteenned.

While his days of frequent milk consumption had passed with his childhood, he still remembered the days of being provided a warm glass to fall asleep, and this milk was unlike anything Shane had tasted. The flavor had a creamy roundness that he couldn't identify, and was far sweeter than nature could possibly independently concoct. He took another eager gulp then split the cookie in half, dunking it in the addictively creamy froth of the bakery’s milk before taking another large bite. He found the second cookie to be even more delicious than the first, and in less than a minute both were devoured, leaving Shane with nothing but a mostly full glass of milk with the remnants of both cookies bobbing about in its thick foam.

Shane grabbed the glass and downed it in a few swallows, surprising himself with the speed at which he’d demolished the little snack. He burped, unused to enjoying his food so much that he gulped it down that quickly, and pushed the evidence of his order to the side. In stark contrast to the inarticulable unrest he’d felt each night since giving up his vices, he finally felt at peace. Pleasant full, with his mind settled instead of racing.

The milk, he realized with a start.

The recreation of his childhood bedtime routine must be having a more significant subconscious impact on his adult brain than he’d initially realized, and consuming a glass of milk at this hour, even after all this time, had sent his body the signal that it was time to sleep. He made his way back to his bedroom, his exhaustion overtaking him now that his body and mind were in sync, and fell swiftly into a dreamless sleep.