Custom Creations - My New Step-Sister Part 4

Word of my change of address spread like wildfire at school. Within two weeks I’m pretty sure even the band geeks knew, and they barely left the orchestra annex. Despite that there wasn’t much change. My friends asked me how living under the oppressive rule of Samantha Fletcher was. I kept my plans to myself, but I did tell them that it wasn’t as bad as they thought. That was because I was working on operation Fat Sam every moment of every day.

My mom had been making super rich and hearty dinners, and we kept up the tradition of family breakfast on the weekend. As much as possible I made sure Sam had overly generous helpings, slowly making them bigger each day as she subliminally got used to them. My plan was moving slowly, but so far there had been no hitches so I was feeling good. I couldn’t see any physical results yet, but the fact that Sam finished her large serving of chicken pot pie last friday night before everyone else (except for me) told me that I was on the right track.

I decided to push my luck that Monday morning. Sam wasn’t going to get epicly fat with just some large dinners and pancakes on the weekend. We had just set out on our way to school when I asked, “Hey can we stop at McDonald’s? I forgot to eat breakfast, and I’m starving.”

I got a typical *huff* from Sam, as with anything that was asked of her that was out of the ordinary. “I mean it’s on the way, and will only take a minute.” I tried to strengthen my argument.

“Do you really think someone like you should be getting breakfast at McDonald’s?” I expected a critical critique of this request from bitchy little miss perfect body, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t bite. My soft little belly felt so exposed in the moment, but I knew I was doing this to get back at her and it wasn’t about me. As much as I had planned this I didn’t really have a response prepared, much like how Sam didn’t really have much of a reason to deny my request, especially where she knew I would complain to my mom later. With a grunt Sam agreed to make the stop. “Fine.”

I opened the ordering app on my phone, picking out a breakfast sandwich for myself. I was gaga for mcgriddles, with the syrup filled pancakes as buns, omg they were so good. But more important than mcgriddles was Sam. “So… you want anything?” I asked as casually and as calm as a cucumber as I could. For weeks I had been building up to this, getting Sam to ease whatever diet she had become accustomed to, getting her to eat more than she ever had before, hoping that it would give her a bit of an appetite that would push her over the edge.

So when she said. “Ew! No! Some of us actually care about our figures.” In her typical snarky tone, my ego was a bit bruised and I felt like I had flown too close to the sun. We pulled up to the golden arches, and I told Sam to just give them my name since I had already put in the order. She approached the loud speaker and waited for the sound of someone on the other end. “Yes, and order for Fatigan *cough* ugh I mean, Madigan.” What a bitch. With a confirmation we drove up to the window and Sam passed me my meal. Despite my setback I still got to thoroughly enjoy my meal, while avoiding as much side eye as I could that Sam threw my way.