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The fifth iteration of my Mix & Match Game! Super Short stories YOU vote on! |
—ROUND ONE— These ladies headline some of everyone's favorite stories in the BCU. They're popular in the stories that they star in, but let's mix things up a bit! Let's give these A-listers the Drive-In B-Movie treatment! Let's have a story starring... There had been rumors about the place since long before Alice had arrived. It was visible from just off the Academy’s east side during the Fall and Winter, when the lush greenery that surrounded the school was slightly less dense. Once nature loosened its grip enough to let bored prep school girls peek at the old house that it held hostage, their overactive minds did the rest. It was enough that the spooky old place seemed to rise out of the ether, but with the trees around it shedding their leaves and the air dropping to a chill already, the girls at Buttercombe Academy invented plenty of reasons to say that it was haunted. “Go on!” Megan Mahoney had said, tapping her initiate on the behind, “We’ll all be waiting for you in the morning.” Poor Alice Carlyle—naif and nebbish as she was—didn’t exactly find the idea of spending a night in this old dump inviting at first. They were just picking on the new girl was all they were doing. Forcing poor Alice to do this dumb initiation ritual so that they could be her friends—and all without dinner, no less! But that all changed once the clock struck midnight. After just over an hour of spooky spelunking, she was eventually lured by a smorgasbord of smells into the dining room—kept in opulent form despite the dilapidation that the outside suffered. It was a grand hall to fit the design of the old mansion, with candles lit and the great long table set. “A visitor—and at this time of night, no less!” her ethereal hostess had said, a smile spreading across her translucent cheeks, “Take a seat, we were just about to serve dinner.” And Alice should have ran, but everything smelled so good! Her time away from her mother’s strict diet plan had already left her with something of a chubby pot, and her “friends” had taken a real shot at her self control. Alice had spent her first month worrying about what would happen if her mom could see her now! But this lady was serving up all of her favorites, juicy turkey, pumpkin pie, sugared ham and sweet potatoes, how could she resist? A staff of ghostly butlers bounced in a track, their feet never touching the ground as they tended to the needs of both their mist-like mistress and the increasingly corporeal girl who had wandered in for dinner. “More?” Alice bawked, her cheeks rounder and fuller than when she arrived “I couldn’t possibly.” “Well, if you say so…” Alice happily partook in another slice of pie, nestling deeper into her chair, “It is my favorite!” “A little more gravy please!” Alice’s double chin began to bunch as she held out her plate for the butlers, “Okay, that’s enough!” Watching as her guest gorged herself happily, oblivious to her expansion, the Lady of the House steepled her fingers longingly. Alice was such a greedy girl, deep down. She was so focused on the food, she had no idea that she had already fattened up so much! “Dessert, dear?” “Oh, I couldn’t…” Alice grunted, wriggling in her suddenly too-tight seat, the heat of her belly in her lap, “I’m starting to feel a little full…” “Oh, but we’ve only just begun!” the Lady licked her lips, ”We haven’t even gotten to the main course yet!” Ever since the move, Dakota had been acting… strangely. At first everything was fine. She had gone and made new friends in Zack Tyler and Piper Black, and they had done wonders in making her feel more at home. They did something together almost every day! But now that Summer was over, Zack was back in school and Piper had gotten a job at Big Burger, and Dakota was feeling back to square one. It was as if that last trip to the shipping yard had been a death sentence for Hannah’s daughter—she was worse off than ever! She was reclusive, she was gaining weight, and there was a certain… stickiness about her. She was sweating like crazy almost all the time—even when the AC was cranked up to meat locker temperatures. And they’d only been in Daven’s Port for a few months now, but somehow Dakota had managed to gain almost a hundred pounds of jiggling fat. As Dakota got bigger, slicker, and more sluggish, her mother was convinced that something was wrong with her; even if Dakota refused to see a doctor. She looked green around the gills, and there was nothing Hannah could do about it! “Whatever, okay?” her daughter’s big butt sloshed like jelly as she hefted herself upstairs, “It’s not like you even care or we’d have never moved to this dumb town!” By the time November had rolled around, Dakota hardly ever came out of her room, and Hannah was a wreck. She’d hadn’t been sleeping well ever since Dakota really started to backslide, and it was on one such night that she descended into the kitchen for a midnight snack—just something to help her get back to sleep. And that was when she heard it. The sound of rustling through the refrigerator. Hannah gripped the railing and clung to the wall. She stepped nervously towards the kitchen as the sounds grew louder. “Kenny?” she called out for her son, doubtful that any preteen could make those noises “Patrick?” she had reached the kitchen doorway now, thinking that maybe her husband had somehow slipped past her and was… really, really hungry. “D…” Hannah stepped onto the cold kitchen tile, a chill running up her spine, “Dakota?” At the sound of her name, Dakota whipped her head towards the intrusion of her meal—sticky green sweat slapping her mother in the face. She had eaten almost everything in the fridge! Containers flung by the wayside, boxes emptied and discarded, she’d even eaten the cheese slices! The bread! The spices! Dakota’s stomach swelled outwards, a big ball of mass that should have been turgid and stuffed—but instead still rippled and sloshed like water. And that was when she noticed it. Hannah’s daughter was green. “GO AWAY!” Dakota’s voice rippled throughout her body and the kitchen, her soaked pajamas beginning to sink into a thin layer of translucent green slime. Hannah could see the shapes of what she’d eaten—bumping around in the hang of her gut. Her daughter was... and had been becoming… a blob! Haley West suddenly shot forward from her bed, reeling from her latest nightmare. Her tinny scream filled the whole West household—her mother, visiting sister, and the two poor friends that had been staying over in her bedroom were all drawn to the sudden sound of shouting. “Haley, sweetie, what happened?” her doting mother said with a touch of her shoulder “I… I had a nightmare.” Haley said weakly, still not sure if she had wet the bed for the first time in more than a decade. “Oh Haley, it’s okay.” Courtney said sleepily as she slowly stood, “You’re with us now, where no one will ever hurt you.” “Except me if you fucking scream in my ear again.” Dani grouched, eliciting a laugh from everyone in the room, “Well, and that fog that makes people fat.” Haley’s sister Tara said as an aside as a pale orange mist began to rise in the window. “Uh-oh, it’s seeping in!” Courtney squeaked “Stupid cheap weather stripping!” Mrs. West cursed her frivolity aloud as their fates were sealed As the fog began to fill the room and everyone’s lungs, a change surged throughout the entire household. Haley’s body began to swell and fatten as she breathed in the mysterious fog, her already spoiled soft physique expanding her into a bottom-heavy bowling pin shape. Her thighs quickly grew to fill out her loose-fitting pajama bottoms, her panties torn to shreds beneath. Her belly rested on her soft legs, and everything from her arms to her face were embarrassingly plump! Her double chin creased into a third as her jaw opened as wide as she could to scream for the second time that morning. Meanwhile, a similar change had gripped the other occupants of the room. Her mother’s figure followed the example that her daughter’s had set, her already head start of a middle-aged spread helped to grow her behind wide enough to catch the doorframe, a large stomach that pressed tight against the now ill-fitting nightgown that she slept in. Meanwhile, Tara rounded out into a circular shape all around, her swelling gut pushing out from underneath her now woefully undersized t-shirt as her engorged breasts distorted the graphic. Poor Courtney’s prominent chest and her pretty face got bit by the brunt of it, fattening until she was a chipmunk-cheeked, chubby-chested chunker while doubty Dani blimped out belly-first into a whining ghost-white whale in black lipstick! Everyone in the room suddenly and very rapidly had their figures grown to more than twice—perhaps even three times the size that they were just a shallow breath ago! As the screams slowly died down, and everyone took a good look at what the fog had left of their girlish figures, a deathly silence filled the room. And walking canes were thrown at them from off-stage as music filled the room. “One—” the girls sang in unison as they waddled into proper position to begin their musical number, dancing awkwardly at their larger size, “Chorus line of people, dance until they make us stop!” - - - - - - —ROUND TWO— These two go together like peanut butter and jelly! Opposites attract, after all! The second round is the perfect place for two's, after all! But let's throw a kink into the mix and see how they hold up! What happens to... Buttercombe Academy was a very strange and unusual place, but only insofar as its customs and the lifestyle cultivated by such a coddling environment. Things like this simply just didn’t happen—they were impossible, right? Magic and spells and curses, they weren’t real. And until the Incident, where thirty people—both faculty and student body—were seemingly selected at random by some mystical force and had their hearts and minds placed in the body of the person exactly six feet away from them. And unfortunately, Ronnie had decided to bring her good friend Megan cookies that afternoon. And just as she stepped out of the kitchenette and started towards Megan’s throne on the couch, it happened. A blinding flash of light, a sharp tremor that shook the school to its very foundation, and a set of splitting headaches later—Megan was now Ronnie, and Ronnie was now Megan. Ms. Polluck—wearing the skin of her spherical assistant, Candace Scott—feared that separating those affected would have only complicated the issue, should a solution arise. Everyone who had switched bodies was to remain on campus until further notice and do their best to keep a stiff upper lip about the whole thing until everyone got put back where they belonged. That had happened at the beginning of last year. They’d opted to house the Switched on-campus over the Summer for no extra charge. Nearing the anniversary of it all, it wasn’t any less weird. “Whyyyy are you still dressing me like such a dork?!” Megan whined from the couch as her swap partner showed off her new uniform—the full blazer-blouse set, where she preferred the blouse to sweatervest—“The blazer just makes me look fat!” “I thought I looked good!” Ronnie used Megan’s face much more expressively than she ever did, “Maybe once I get it tailored…” Ronnie cupped her hands under what had been her breasts for a year now. They were even bigger than the ones back in her old body, and Ronnie had certainly been chesty before all this had started. Her steady diet of sweets and cakes had only continued to aid in the growth of Megan’s girls. Her baking habits had stayed with her, thank God! “Yeah, well, I look like a nerd.” Megan snorted, hearing Ronnie’s chipper tone flat and apathetic still freaked out Alice and Sam when they heard it, “And that stupid short haircut makes my face look huge.” “Okay, like you’re one to talk about huge.” Megan Mahoney had always been a lazy girl, happy to mooch off whatever Ronnie Wilson baked for her. And that hadn’t changed when they switched, either. The main difference was that Megan had a bigger stomach to feed and a slower metabolism. “Hey, you’re the one who won’t stop baking.” Megan unclasped the stretchy skirt that wrapped around her tertiary tire-thick tummy tier, causing it to seize forward and slope downward towards the end of the couch cushions. She unrolled the tarp-sized sweatervest she’d rolled over Ronnie’s rotundity and slowly unbuttoned the blouse. With a grunt, she leaned forward and wriggled Ronnie’s chubby fingers underneath her apron of belly blubber and gave it a good shake. “This isn’t my fault—you did this to yourself.” *** Parker Black & Mel Carlyle... when the latter fattens up the former for one reason or another? ... Mel had only known Parker for so long. But she knew that, compared to the other girls that Parker was used to hanging out with, Mel’s group was kind of lame. They didn’t go out and party five nights a week, they had jobs, and the only places that they got kicked out of were buffets. But Parker had been kicked out of her social group by her friends. Something something, twenty-somethings who hadn’t grown out of high school drama yet. Parker slept with an ex-boyfriend maybe, who knows. But ever since that happened, Parker had been barnacling herself to Mel and her friends. It was a kind of sad—some people just couldn’t handle being alone. But Parker was also two to three years older than all the people that Mel hung out with, which meant that she could buy them booze. And that was all the reason anyone needed to keep the former party girl around. As time passed and the new group dynamic was established, all of Mel’s friends—Amy, Donna, and Kate—joked that hanging out with Mel was going to make poor Parker fat. Because, in their experience (a two hundred pound, a hundred pound, and a sixty-pound weight gain respectively) there was a definitive precedent set. Parker never really thought it was funny. But she really started to hate it when her pants started to get tight. “Woah, Parker, Mel’s doing a real number on you!” Donna chuckled from her seat on the floor “Yeah Mel, lay off Parker the pant load!” Amy snorted, dipping her fries in her milkshake Parker drank to excess every time she came over. Which was often. Mel and Amy would bring the takeout, Kate would plate up the food, Donna would order takeout, and Parker would bring the alcohol. But being around all of this food, and all of the chubby bellies around her eating to such excess anyway, it was easy for Parker to go a little overboard. “God shudup guys!” Parker groaned as she leaned away from Mel, exposing her rounding belly to the rest of the living room “M’not gonna get fat!” It really wasn’t all that much weight yet. Just a little belly that had started to pooch over her jeans. Honestly, Mel thought she wore the weight well. Helped balance out her boobs a lot. All jokes aside, Parker needed to be comfortable away from her party friends. And it wasn’t like they didn’t have fun here, with all the food… “Yeah, guys, come on it’s not funny.” Mel said in a sympathetic tone, “Here, Parker, don’t waste that...” Mel leaned over and grabbed the pizza crust from her friend’s hand, smooshing her underneath an avalanche of creamy belly blubber. She dipped the crust in the bowl of ranch on the coffee table and returned it to Parker, tracing her lips with it as Parker made a low, sensual noise of approval before Mel pushed a bite into her mouth. “Better?” Mel asked, satisfied with Parker’s dreamy expression “Sobetter.” Parker burped, leaning forward with a grunt to repeat the process herself, “Finally a use for pizza bones.” “That’s so cute you call them pizza bones.” Mel snorted, “Well, you wanna try it? We’ve got a whole box here…” As Parker shrugged and dug into the flat box of discarded crusts, Mel watched with no small amount of pride as her friend undertook the challenge. Sure, Amy, Donna, and Kate had been accidental. But Parker showed some promise. She could make a bonafide fat girl out of this one. *** Marissa Dupont & Cerys Porter... when they start to date, much to the confusion of everyone around them? ... Arisa Spencer had never had a girlfriend. She’d never had a boyfriend either, though! She didn’t know what she liked. Most of her life was spent in a stylish rich girl solitary, with not much more than her big house and serving staff to keep her company while she studied. So when she moved to Buttercombe Academy and met her friends, she never considered that the other girls would be looking for love. That part of puberty almost completely skipped her mind! She didn’t even notice what was happening until well into their relationship. After all, Cerys came over all the time anyway. Sitting on the couch, the poor spherical Thai girl couldn’t help but feel incredibly awkward as her two best friends sucked face with one another. Attached at the lips like Velcro, Marissa Dupont and Cerys Porter—two opposites if there ever had been—could barely keep their hands off of one another. “I like you so much.” Cerys said between kisses “You’re so hot.” Marissa gasped breathlessly And then there was poor Arisa, eyes wide and her thumbs twiddling while the television played in the background. Watching them go at it like this not only was a reminder of her own sexual immaturity, but it was just… weird! She thought that they hated each other! But who was she to judge? After all, they were still her friends. Still Risters… right? “Oh sweetie, you must feel so left out.” Cerys’s roommate Hannah said in a pitiful voice as she handed Arisa an ice cream cone during lunch, “You want me to break them up for you?” “You… you can do that?” Arisa asked meekly, “I just… I want my friends back!” “Of course you do.” Hannah said with a smirk, “Leave it to me, I know just the way to do it.” Hannah was eager to take a crack at her favorite past time, but this time she was wrong. She’d thought that, by sabotaging Cerys’s diet at every turn, softening the sophomore up, Marissa would lose interest. As Hannah fed Cerys the most fattening foods she could get her hands on, beleaguered her into bigness, and actively worked to keep her as lazy and well-fed as possible, she was convinced that she’d found a more moral use for her uncanny ability to make people fat. Surely this would get that poor girl her friends back! But it just made Marissa like Cerys more. “You’re so soft and squishy!” Marissa broke away breathlessly, laying on top of her jumbo junior girlfriend, “I love to squeeze you.” “I love it when you squeeze me.” Cerys pressed Marissa tightly into her gut, enveloping the busty sophomore in a fleshy hug Somehow their relationship had survived Cerys’s two-hundred-pound weight gain. Even as a big bellied pig, Cerys was still almost always attached to her surprisingly doting and supportive girlfriend. Whenever she wasn’t eating, her lips were attached to Marissa’s still. Hannah’s plan had failed—all it had done was bring them closer together! How was she supposed to know that Marissa was a closet chubby chaser? Arisa just sat there, on the couch, feeling more awkward than ever. - - - - - - —ROUND THREE— It's time for the return of the historic Mix & Match MILF round! These slightly older ladies don't always get really fun stories involving them. Let's change that by pairing them with the weird and strange parts of the BCU! Sound fun? Of course it does! When a woman in red popped out of the lamp she’d bought at Abida’s Eclectics, Harper had been left wondering if she’d eaten the special brownies that she kept in the freezer by mistake. But no, Aziza was very real—even if Harper hadn’t believed it at first. The tall, sun-kissed woman looked to have come right out of the Arabian Nights, and promised to grant her any three wishes that her heart desired. And it couldn’t have come at a better time, either—Harper had just been laid off at DynaCorp, and the bills were starting to pile up. They were threatening to repossess the house, and poor Piper just didn’t make enough money to keep them all afloat while she struggled to find another career. In hindsight, she could have worded the question better, but more on that later. “I wish we never had to go hungry again.” And, one small dance routine later, Harper’s wish was granted. The next morning, Harper’s money problems were solved—some stock that she’d bought a long, long time ago (probably back when she got married the first time!) had just taken off. She sold it and became a millionaire overnight. Now, that took care of the money problems. With some help, Harper took those millions and invested it. Soon, they were out of their crackerbox and into the nicest gated community in town! The Black family had never been so well-off! “I want to look younger!” Still riding high on her first wish, Harper had never felt more alive. There was money in the bank, her daughters didn’t have to work, and neither did she! Wanting to look as good as she felt, Harper wished away the modest effects that aging had held to her. Gone were the laugh lines, the shallow crow’s feet, and her charcoal-black hair darkened to the obsidian sheen of her daughters’. Harper looked fifteen years younger and had never felt better! And so, going out on expensive dinners with plenty of suitors looking to get rich quick, getting wined and dined by businesses all over looking to get a piece of her millions, Harper quickly found that just because she looked younger didn’t mean she was younger. Her metabolism was still in her forties, despite looking twenty five. It wasn’t long before all of these rich foods started to stick to her waistline! “I wish I didn’t have to worry about my weight.” Harper cupped her pot belly as it pooched out over her skirt. She’d popped a button right there at the dinnertable, and she’d never felt more embarrassed in her life! “Are you sure that’s how you want to word that?” Aziza asked, brow cocked. It had been a long time since anyone had dared to keep her around this long, and she was more than testy after a year of servitude, “O my Master?” “Yes, that’s what I want.” Harper said, head fuzzy with wine, “Aziza, I wish that I never had to worry about my weight!” “So you have wished it…” Aziza said with a bump of her hip as Arabian music filled the bathroom... “Honestly, the two of you are unbelievable.” “Oh come on, Auntie, I’m just showing her how to have fun.” “Yeah Auntie.” Ever since Rhonda and her niece Mel had found her spaceship and agreed to harbor her, all Meitnerium had done was sit on the couch and watch television. Granted, that’s all that Mel liked to do, but that was different. Mel was family—and Mel was in college (probably? Rhonda needed to look into that) But the two of them were putting their butts on the line for their new green-skinned houseguest, and they weren’t given much in return. At least, Rhonda wasn’t. Mel had found a new friend. Ever since she’d gotten here, Meitnerium had been fattening up into a ripe green ball of pudge. Mel had a way about doing that—no lightweight herself at almost four hundred pounds and barely nineteen years old. Just living with her had put an extra fifty pounds on Rhonda’s skinny shape, settling mostly in her rounding rear end, but that was before she’d turned Meitty into a mini-Mel from beyond the stars. “I’m not your Auntie!” Rhonda rolled her eyes, “Meitnerium, don’t you think it’s time you try to contact your home planet?” “Like, why?” Meitty asked, filling her face with M&M’s, “I’m having fun!” “Because you’re eating us out of house and home.” Rhonda sighed, looking at the empty fridge, “More than usual.” “But Earth food is so good!” Meitnerium whined, “How can you expect me not to eat it all?” “Yeah Auntie, they don’t even have food where she comes from.” “We don’t!” “So I’ve been told.” Rhonda thought back bitterly to popping those food pills like candy. Eating packages of them meant to last for months in an afternoon on the couch! Ooh she hated this space stuff so much. “You wanna come and watch TV with us?” Meitnerium asked with a pat next to her, “Show’s about to start?” “I need to get to the gym.” Rhonda groaned, her athletic shorts riding high, “It’s my only day off this week.” “But it’s raining!” “Yeah Auntie, it’s raining!” Rhonda felt the nagging homebody inside of her banging at the gate. They were right. It was raining. And besides, there was no hope of salvaging her figure now. Rhonda kicked one trunk-like leg over the other and sloshed through the hallway belly-first. She was an impossibly bottom-heavy woman, and getting around the office—let alone her own home!—was becoming increasingly difficult as she struggled with her artificially expanded appetite. Lugging this big butt behind her was so embarrassing; she could barely even sit on the couch with Meitty and Mel these days! “Fiiiine.” She grunted, “Scooch over, green jeans.” The two piles of couch potatoes wriggled over as best they could, allowing Aunt Rhonda just enough room to force her flabby flanks down into the space provided between Meitty’s green gut and the arm rest. Letting her belly pooch back out after sucking it in, Rhonda finally relaxed. “Popcorn?” Meitnerium and Mel snorted in quiet laughter as their provisioner snacked on the buttery treat, some of Meitty’s food pills mixed into the bowl… Ashley Knight had fallen on hard times. A former track star with a figure gone to pots, she had never felt so small. Ironically, she’d never been bigger either. Once she cracked two hundred pounds, she vowed that she would go on a diet. But the temptation found in Buttercombe Academy was unlike anything that even she had faced before. Hard-nosed as she was, she had become weak and soft. Ashley ballooned up to two-fifty, two-seventy-five and then finally three hundred pounds before things got really desperate. “I would sell my soul to get my figure back.” And that was when Devlin came into her life. The next morning, Ashley found herself running along Buttercombe Academy’s neglected track for the first time in years. Her wide behind weighed down what had once been an impeccable time, and her chest heaved as she struggled to lug her fattened shape around the courtyard. Her cheeks were red and as round as tomatoes, her flesh bobbing and weaving with every beleaguered step. Five minutes in, and her track suit was soaked with sweat. “Hey now porky, don’t slow down now!” Devlin blew into her whistle, Ashley’s sadsack visage reflected in her mirrored aviators, “You’ve got another two chins to work off before I say you’re done!” “I thought… I thought… there’d be…” Ashley struggled to catch her breath in the morning October brisk, “Magic or something… involved!” “There is! By the time I’m done with you, you won’t have any loose skin!” Devlin’s curly blonde hair bounced from underneath her baseball cap, “That’s all the magic you’re getting from your soul!” “Wh…What?!” Ashley whined, the thought of working off all this flab by herself was literally enough to make her want to cry, “So I… you’re just my trainer?” “And one hell of a trainer at that!” Devlin snickered, “You were already coming to us anyway, so why should we give you any special treatment?” Devlin zapped at Ashley’s feet with a flick of hellfire, causing the bottom-heavy blob to cry out in surprise. She started walking weakly towards the middle line, only to get zapped again on her mile-wide tuchus. “OW!” Ashley yelped, “What… what can I do to make this go a little easier?!” “Easier’s not gonna get ride of those lovehandles, chubs!” Devlin giggled, “Now scooch!” They got a few more feet down the track before Ashley tripped. Landing belly-first on the turf, Devlin loomed over her newest client with no small amount of satisfaction. Torturing sinners was so much fun—and Ashley had all the signifiers of a great sinner! Pride, Gluttony, Sloth, Wrath, Greed, Envy, and Lust! She was a rare breed indeed, the whole 7 in one go! Unfortunately for Ashley, that meant her soul wasn’t exactly worth much to trade. She was already going to Hell anyway—why make her time on Earth any easier? “What if… what if we trade?” Ashley hacked a wheezing whooping cough, slowly working her way to a seated position, “What if I help you?” “Keep talking.” Devlin cocked a blonde eyebrow, “I like where this is going.” “This Academy… loaded with fatties…” Ashley puffed, her belly pooling on the ground in front of her, between her enormous legs, “What if… I… helped make them fat? Sloth… Gluttony… all that jazz?” “Ooh~” Devlin helped hoist Ashley up with some effort, “I like your style—we’ve got a deal.” Devlin clapped a hand on Ashley’s rippling backfat, a heavy “oof!” escaping the fat woman. “You just bought yourself a ticket to the Eighth Circle, Bubble Butt. - - - - - - —ROUND FOUR— These characters are often stuck as the Sassy Supporting Character™ They're fan favorites for sure, but let's show them some love this go 'round! This is where the weird stuff happens, folks! What in the world would happen if... For a girl like Sam, in a place like Buttercombe, this was the best possible solution. None of these snooty rich girls really wanted her here any more than she wanted to be cooped up in some stupid all-girl’s school. But her mom would flip if the school called her and just up and told her that she ran away. She knew it on her first day that this would be the worst four years of her life. At least it would have been, if she hadn’t ran into the right person at just the right time. “I can make an exact duplicate—a clone, if you will—to do it for you.” Devlin had told her one day, sneaking out to town, “She’ll go back to school and you’ll be free to sin to your little heart’s content with your new friends!” How could she have refused that? Sam Wilsey was a student of hard knocks, not some prestigious school for preppies. She’d been living hard and scrimping by, slumming it in style since she was old enough to walk. And she’d get to make her mom happy? Sounded like a plan! So one Sam went one way, back to school, and another Sam went the other, headfirst into sin with questionable new friends. Scraping by on her fresh start, getting “life experience” and making questionable choices, Sam spent the next four years “being an adult”. Doing whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it. She’d become gaunt, pasty, and very tired of alcohol. Smelling like nicotine, she rolled up to the same spot she’d left Devlin four years before, feeling confident. “Who’s this cow?” Sam said in her nasal voice, her pierced nose curling “That’s you.” Devlin purred, taking Sam by the shoulder and easing her closer to her opposite, “At least, the you that you could have been.” “After what, getting locked in a bakery?” Sam snorted, “How’d you get so fat?” Standing in front of her was a Sam several times her size, hair cut short and pampered as could be. Ballooning out by what had to have been at least fifty pounds a year, Sam the Second had swollen to spectacular size since they’d separated. Where Sam’s chest was flat and birdy, her clone’s had grown fat and pendulous. No ribs could be seen underneath her second’s copious rolls and belly blubber as it bulged tight against her blouse and blazer. Her face, chinned twice over with chubby cheeks to boot, frowned tightly at their reunion. “Fucking rude.” Sam number 2 said in a whinier, less brassy tone, “It’s not my fault, okay? The food is really good up there…” “We’re literally the same person, so yeah it kind’ve is.” Sam flicked her cigarette, “Whatever, just like, hand over the diploma.” “Ah ah!” Devlin wagged her finger in correction, “I never said anything about you two switching back.” “What?” Sam’s bravado shrunk, “But… my life…” “Was up there, and now it’s down here—sinning and slumming.” Devlin crooned, “I get two little sinners out of one!” “Lots of gluttony and sloth from Sammy here.” She pat Sam the Second’s belly approvingly, like a melon in the market, “And you… well, you get to handle the other five. And you didn’t have to go to school! Everybody wins!” Alright guys, I’ll admit, this is probably the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had in my life. And I live in a town where lots of weird shit happens, okay? Morally questionable Japanese businesses taking over, weird books about Lovecraft ripoffs, fucking magic shops with actual magic? A fucking frisbee that shows you different universes, okay? My whole world’s pretty fucked up. So when I found out that I was a fictional character, I thought that was just some pothead mumbo jumbo. Like ‘dude, we’re all just like a ladybug in some other dimension’ or whatever. But then, no, I’m actually a fictional character. And so is everyone I know, or will know… can know, given how this kind of shit works, I guess? I don’t know. So I thought ‘that means people are reading about me, at least!’ One, I find out that I’m a spin-off character. Like, okay Bobo the Hobo, I can totally carry a story better than Dee, but two I’m not even in like a book or something. I’m in a fetish story. You people get off on making me fat. And not just like, average every-day fat. Not like with a cute little tummy or something, or just making me thicc. You guys like it when I get big. I’ve read stories where you make me huge. Like, there’s one story where I wound up fucking the hotel heiress and I weighed eight hundred pounds. Another time, I got trapped on a Dessert Island and I ate myself into the size of a waterbed! And not just me, but my Mom, my sister… my other sister, after she grows up and goes to Prep School? What’s that about! And then my friends and everyone I work with, you all make us really, really fat. And that’s why I brought you here today. See, I’m not stupid. I don’t think this whole “fourth wall awareness” thing is gonna last since Bobo is one of those stuffy academic shits who thinks Deadpool is overdone. Next time you read about me, I’ll be back to some… character. I mean, I’ll be me, but… God this is weird. But while I have you, and I can talk to you, I wanted to let you know something. Now that I’m aware of this? Now that I know about your “community” and the dirty little secret you all share? I think it’s really fucking hot. I don’t know what it is—the attention, the spoiling, the fact that I get to eat whatever I want and lay around all day. The teasing about me getting fatter and fatter, getting so big that I waddle around. Pigging out all the time, letting go, and never having to worry about reeling myself back in as I turn into a total hog. Feeling my belly get bigger and bigger, squishing it between my fat fingers as people tell me what a fatass I am. Having all my sexual desires taken care of by potentially any of my incredibly attractive friends who just want to feed me and fuck me fat? Yeah, I’m super fucking into this. Don’t just stop at making me big. I want you to make me huge. Daven’s Port State Fair huge. Make me fucking Hesper sized. You’ve read that one right? (Am I allowed to plug stuff?) But whatever you do, just don’t fucking stop. “@BigTittyGothGF is taken.” Haley and Courtney rolled their eyes as they had to deal with the waitress that wouldn’t go away. What made her think that they wanted to talk to her? She hadn’t said a nice word about anyone since high school started, and six years later she was still talking trash about (and to) anyone who would listen. Why the fuck would they want to help her pick out a Twitter handle? “You could try replacing the t’s with d’s?” Courtney offered with some modicum of helpfulness, “Like, you know, tiddy.” “No, that’s taken too. I tried that first.” Dani pouted, slumping onto the table she was supposed to be waiting on, “I thought that’s how titty was spelled, so I tried that.” “Maybe something that doesn’t talk about your tits.” Haley snarled as she reached out and plucked a cheese fry from underneath one of Dani’s monstrous mams, pooling on the table and rolling onto the platter of Big Daddy’s fries, “You know, you don’t have to sexualize yourself.” “Um, can you blame me?” Dani snorted, gesturing to her ivory pillows of flesh, the legendary chest that had seen more motor boats than Lake Bowen, “They’re kinda great.” Haley grumbled. She’d always hated Dani Gosset. Everyone thought she was so cool and so pretty and her chest was sooo big. Just because she wore black everything and never fucking smiled didn’t make her cool. Haley was cool. At least, she might have been if Double-D-Dani hadn’t been around to soak up all the attention with her giant fucking balloons. But no, instead she was just the fat chick with the hot sister. Her bubble butt had gotten her named “Hubba Bubba Haley” since puberty (and comfort food) started to set in. Sure she was a little heavy, but at least she was nice. Dani didn’t even like most of the guys she was fucking, and Haley had been dry since she broke up with her boyfriend in Junior year because he wanted a shot at Tara. Ugh, life was so unfair. How come Dani got blessed with a great figure while Haley got all the extra fluff? “Don’t you have, like… a job to do?” Courtney asked, her own impressive chest hidden underneath crossed arms, “You’ve been here for like… forty five minutes.” “I’m on my lunch.” Dani said dismissively before yelling into the deeper diner, “Hey Petro, I’m on my lunch!” “Okay!” the kindly old owner said to his favorite employee, “Just let me know when you’re done!” “There, problem solved.” Dani’s painted black lips parted in a smirk of satisfaction, “Ooh, what about BigTittyGothWaitress—no, that’s too long.” “What about Stupid and Annoying?” Haley asked under her breath, popping another bacon cheese fry in her mouth. Haley let out a nasal whine as she ate another helping of cheese fries. She hated it when Dani was her waitress. The service sucked and she had to deal with his stupid black-haired, big-boobed bimbo. If these cheese fries weren’t so good, she’d be tempted to go somewhere else. Or maybe on a diet. - - - - - - —ROUND FIVE— This is the Unexpected Character Mashup Round! But since they're all wearing business attire... Business Formal Round! These are characters you suggested, with plots you pitched Let's have some fun, starring... In the world of business, it wasn’t enough to be smart—you had to trust your gut. When it was announced that the Boonliang Corporation may, just may have been throwing its hat in with the shady, effervescent Yeng Corporation, everybody though that its CEO was making a terrible mistake. Given the bad press surrounding a few rumors spreading around the East Coast, it seemed like literally the worst time in the world for her to be meeting with their representatives. But Kritsana Boonliang-Spencer knew her gut, and she knew it well. She had never doubted it once during her rocketing climb up the corporate ladder, and she wasn’t about to start now that she was a “Tycoon” because some kids in North Carolina were spreading rumors on the internet. “A token of our appreciation.” Dr. Hinamizawa had said, gesturing to the Yeng Recliner that had been brought into the meeting room, “This is one of our latest designs—we have been hard at work ironing out some of the difficulties with the last models.” “You brought me a chair?” Kritsana snorted in mild amusement, “Odd way to say thank you.” “We brought you a very nice chair.” Dr. Hinamizawa corrected, “Beyond the tablet interface on the side, Yeng has opted to include a massaging feature that has tested well with focus groups. More than a hundred massage heads, some of them no bigger than pin-heads, so as to deep, down into the aching muscles.” “This is very nice, but… I couldn’t.” “Did I mention that it is voice activated?” Dr. Hinamizawa gestured laterally with her unsteepling hands, “It will sync to any and all office computers with a copy of our Yeng’s Office Suite software installed instantaneously, and with your Admin perks, you will be able to manage your whole company from the comfort of your own desk—and in such style, too.” Fukuda rubbed the back of her hand along the black leather arm rest, the tablet slowly coming to life. The inner machinations of the chair began to purr, auto-adjusting hydraulics coming to life as they were wrested from their slumber. “Buuuut we don’t have any of those things.” Kritsana had offered, doing her best to play this meeting close to her chest, “We are looking for an upgrade though…” “I think I understand what you are driving at, Mrs. Boonliang-Spencer.” The doctor’s smile kicked a little at the side as one thin black eyebrow piqued in intruige, “Do we have a deal?” Yes, the most important rule in business is to always trust your gut. And in dealing with the Yeng Corporation, Kritsana would find that her gut was almost always right. Fukuda, her personal liason to the corporation, had done everything she could to dissuade those negative thoughts that Kritsana—abashedly—admitted to having when their dealings first began. But now, she saw the fellow Mega Corporation for what they were—the perfect business partners! None of the liability, very little risks, and all of the rewards… Yeng R&D was nothing without Helen Schwartz. She knew that, and what’s more important, she made sure that all of the scientists under her knew that. From her good friend Evie McCarthy to the lowest petri dish scrubber, everyone on that floor and in that building knew there was no Research and Development Department of the Daven’s Port Branch without one pint-sized, blue-haired, pot-bellied little German woman named Helen-Motherfucking-Schwartz. Except, apparently, for her supervisor—who at one point made the grievous error of questioning her “lack of focus” and “poor management skills”. Dr. Hinamizawa had been a pain in Helen’s fluffy side for about as long as she’d been breathing in her airspace. Every twist and turn seemed to feature her boss harping on about “marketability”, “practicality”, and “dubious application of the scientific method”. This company didn’t pay to play it safe—Yeng paid for Helen Schwartz to think outside of the box! Yeng paid her to be innovative, bold and a little scary! Helen did what Helen wanted, and no amount of skinny Japanese women being thrown at her would ever get her to consider alternative, less-risky endeavors for the future of this company! Phew. So, that was how she finally came to the conclusion to finally launch Operation: Faulpelz. She had intended it to be something of a “going away” present for when the company finally bored her and she wanted to “drop the mic”, so to speak, but Fukuda’s insolence expedited the process. Working together with Dr. McCarthy(as she so often did!), Helen began tampering with the building’s heating and cooling system. By introducing a fast-acting airborne pathogen derived from the “blue stuff” that made everything so addictive, engineered by none other than Dr. McCarthy’s team, and getting ahold of the PA system and introducing a very potent, highly subliminal broadcast on a loop that Helen had perfected on all-too-many interns, and broadcasting it all throughout the R&D department. Within literally days the production rates in Dr. Hinamizawa’s department (and only her department) tanked. Everyone, everyone was far too busy dragging their feet and taking things easy. Lunches dragged on and on, shuffling back to their cubicles and labs with full bellies and low energy—people were napping in their workspaces left and right! It was like people were doing everything they could to not work! With the added benefit of driving sales in the Food Development up! “You’re enjoying yourself entirely too much.” Dr. McCarthy rolled her eyes, drinking in the sight of her fellow mad scientist squeezed into her desk “Und you are not?” Helen chortled, round cheeks bouncing in tittered laughter as she pat her belly appreciatively, “I have made this place into a paradise!” Like the rest of her department, Helen had ballooned in a comically short amount of time. Well aware of the effects of the drugs and effectively immune to the subliminal advertising, it was still hard to pass up an opportunity to finally let go. In a whole building where everyone from interns to bigwigs were plumping up like crazy, it seemed like a wasted opportunity for Helen to not heft herself up! “You are absolutely incorrigible.” Dr. McCarthy poked her friend in the stomach, marveling as her finger sunk deep into Helen’s hugeness, “You know that, right?” “Doktor Fukuda might have said the same thing.” Helen chuckled, lovingly handling a generous helping of her fleshy stomach and weighing it between her short, sausage fingers, “If she hadn’t been fired for her lack of focus and poor department management skills.” “Shannon, hun, y’all know I appreciate the hound out of you.” Eri Flatterly said to her boss one day, “But don’t y’think you should let yourself go a bit?” “Let myself go?” Shannon parroted tersely with a click of her pen, “What brings this on, Eri?” “Well, it’s just…” the tub of Texan shuffled awkwardly on her feet, her great shape squishing and folding as she struggled to find a stance that made her (and this conversation) less uncomfortable, “I mean, you spend so long cooped up here in your office. Couldn’t you find… I don’t know, some way to have some fun?” “My job isn’t fun, Eri.” Shannon laughed a little, “I appreciate the effort, buuut—” “Aw come on, you can take it a little easier ‘round here! It’s not good for you to work yerself to death!” Eri held her heavy arms wide, “What do ya even have an assistant for if y’just pay her to stand around and get into accidents?” “I suppose… I have been working a little hard.” Shannon relented, “I’ll… see what I can do to take things easier around here. You’re right.” And see, here’s the thing, that was sound advice. Shannon worked herself way too hard for Buttercombe Academy. It may have been her inheritance, but that didn’t mean that she needed to work so hard at pleasing a bunch of rich girls who ultimately wouldn’t go on to appreciate it anyway. But without being crammed behind a desk, Shannon didn’t exactly know what to do with herself. “I don’t know, Eri, I’m just bored.” Shannon grouched as she bit into another bite of chocolate cake, “I don’t have a life outside of my work, I guess. Taking it easy, these few hours a day… it might kill me sooner than my job will!” “Well, y’all are always welcome here!” Eri said with a hearty smile and a Texan warmth, “I got recipes for days an’ I’m happy to help you get outta yer funk—let go a little, girl! Just a little!” And let it be said here, if nowhere else, that the hole left inside Shannon Polluck by taking away her insane amounts of workload was not responsibly filled with the amounts of chocolate cake that she would go on to eat. Shannon was a woman who worked in absolutes—whatever she did, she did to excess. It used to be work. But now it was clog up Eri’s kitchen. “Oh I think you’ll like this, hun.” Eri said far, far into Shannon’s descent into foodaholic tendencies, “Cream cheese frosting!” “Ooh, yummy…” Shannon smacked her lips, “Can’t wait…” Her sweatpants loose and her “work clothes” discarded, Shannon Polluck sat in Eri’s kitchen awaiting her customary parade of pastries. Her white cotton shirt—BUTTERCOMBE ATHLETICS had never been a less applicable term—rode high up her stomach as it eeked off the sides of the cafeteria table’s bench seating. Her fat fists clenched tightly around her silverware, Shannon practically had to hold in a squeal as Eri delivered her first treat for the day. “Time for a little Shannon time…” she purred, her stomach growling as all thoughts not related to her immediate gratification melted away, “Time to let go a little… just a little…” - - - - - - —END OF GAME SPECIAL— Every New Game, we have an End of Game Special! That's when we vote on which of the stoies is the most popular! Those stories get 1000 word sequels This is what you readers picked! Mel and Parker Make Out/Holding Up the Deal/ Piper's Continued Conversation From Atop the Fourth Wall Treat Your Gut/Let Go “Gee Parker, you’re not gonna eat all of that, are you?” Mel tittered dreamily as she watched her friend going to town. “Why not?” Parker’s tone was more resigned, albeit not one without a heaping helping of annoyance and distaste, “I’m a fucking fat girl now, through and through. Might as well eat like one.” The older girl struggled momentously against her incredible upper half. Rocking forward with grunting, petulant noises as she struggled to get the pizza within arm’s reach, Parker leaned pitifully into her belly. Giant olive tits sloping to either side of her sagging apron of distended belly, her neck rolls bulged as her face twisted at the strain of battling her own bulges. Winning the war and managing to teeter herself within grabbing distance of the greasiest, most important meal of the day, Parker gave a satisfied noise that was equal parts ready to enjoy her first proper pigout and happy to be done with the wrestling her own waistline. Mel chewed on her bottom lip as she watched her porky protégé lean back into the couch, taking the whole box of pizza with her. Setting it on the cushion beside her, Parker lowered the greasy, cheesy triangle into her gaping mouth with admirable amounts of gusto while readying another round in her other hand. Her dolloping belly blubber, bubbling over the band of her biggest pair of sweats, squelched and gurgled appreciatively. Leaving little trails of pizza grease along the rich vein of chub that porked out from underneath her tank top, Parker untucked her gut in preparation of the day ahead. What had started out as a running joke between friends had become something else entirely—Mel had honestly gone out and made Parker fat. With everyone else it had been more or less an accident. Mel was just such a fucking fatass that it was hard not to fall in line when you were her friend. Amy had been her roommate the longest and had blown up into a big hippy blimp. Then Donna fell into the fray, with Kate not far behind. But this was the first time Mel had taken a girl and deliberately tried to turn her to the fat side. Surrounding her with bad influences in all of her friends, convincing her to stay in and binge with them instead of go out and booze, keeping her constantly tempted with everything her poor little heart could want… God she had made her so fat. “You’ve, uh… started to get a nice wobble going there.” Mel said with a playful slosh of Parker’s gut, pouring through the valley of her massive cushioned thighs, “Is that all you, or are you retaining marinara sauce?” “All me.” Parker snorted derisively, lifting up a helping of her chunky gut with one hand and giving it a short, curt jiggle, “God, I’m a cow.” So fucking fat. But her distaste at her expansion didn’t stop her from eating. Parker’s puffy cheeks bulged as she stuffed half a slice into her mouth. Her belly sloshed a bit as she adjusted her place on the couch, panting with the effort it took to readjust all three-hundred some-odd pounds of her heft and the pillow she put in the small of her back. Her massive tits, slung to either side of her gut, swayed slightly in the motion—too heavy to fully succumb, but pendulous enough to give Mel an eyeful. Parker had long stopped wearing bras before this new “acceptance” phase of hers, and Mel had been enjoying every minute of it. “Yeah, you’re pretty big.” Mel said in a short, airy voice as she felt her heart flutter, “I mean… you’re sure you’re okay now that you’re a real live fat girl, huh Parker?” “Not much choice now.” Parker smacked her lips, slapping her gut derisively, making the great olive avalanche jiggle and wobble in and over her lap, “Might as well enjoy myself and eat whatever the hell I want.” Mel felt her face get warm. This pig had been eating anything and everything she wanted ever since she got her hoggy little hooks into her. Watching her eat like this, talk about being so big, and rubbing that belly of hers… it was making Mel so hot. “Oh yeah?” Mel took a lumbering step forward, her creamy belly flesh brushing against Parker’s great olive expanse, “You gonna start to really pig out?” Mel leaned forward with a little grunt and grabbed a handful of Parker’s oozing gut flesh. Specifically, the hang that had been untucked from Parker’s sweats. She gave it a series of small pats, sending the expanse of Parker’s belly bouncing slightly. As they laughed, Mel’s hands found themselves wrapping around the cleavage of Parker’s gut. “Yeah, I mean I might as well enjoy myself.” Parker said in a breathy sort of voice, first coming down from laughter, then finding at finding the sensation not all that unpleasant, but still eating her pizza as Mel slowly lowered her other hand onto the other side of her gut, “Why not, right?” “Right.” As Mel pressed her body weight against Parker’s, leaning into her friend’s stomach as it smooshed into her open hands, Parker found herself welcoming the sensation. Mel’s fat wrestling with her own, the incredible weight of her (barely) larger friend pressing down, down on her bloated sack of stomach as it oozed over her legs and towards the end of the couch. As Mel leaned in and gave Parker a heated, sloppy kiss, Parker shivered at the sensation of Mel’s hands rubbing concentric circles over the sides of her flabby flanks. It had been so long since the former party girl had gotten laid, she had almost forgotten what it was like to feel the rush of endorphins, filling her brain. Even now that she was the size and shape of a sandbag, she couldn’t say no to the attention that Mel was giving her. They never really separated. Mel just sort of wobbled her way to the couch as Parker slid into a slightly more horizontal position. Her four-hundred pound roommate propped up on her enormous shelf of tits, balancing on and squishing her belly with both hands, Parker and Mel wrestled against their respective girths to adequately and properly make out with one another. “Oh fuck.” Parker panted, overcome with arousal and newfound sensation, “I… fuck…” “Shhshhh. Don’t talk.” Mel paused and, with notable effort, grabbed a slice of pizza from the box she’d moved to the coffee table, “Just eat.” As far as reasons went towards disliking Ashley Knight, there were plenty to be found. She was mean, she was rude, and she was just about the last person that anyone would have been expected to oversee a bunch of teenagers. She had no patience, and even less concern for their tiny feelings that she may or may not have hurt. Even after she started to chub up, she was still mean to her girls—usually even moreso! All in all, Coach Knight had spent most of her time at Buttercombe as one of the most hated members on staff. But she had gumption, that much was obvious. After gaining more than two hundred pounds over the course of her career, the former track star managed to shed it in half the time it took to pile it on! Not much longer after she was tipping the scales at three hundred pounds of blubber-butted bully, she had begun inching her way back down into the two nineties, the two-eighties, the two-fifties… No one was exactly happy that she was slimming down—why should they be when everyone else’s efforts seemed to fall flat?!—but even her most staunch critics would admit that her time as a bonafide, bubble-butted big girl had taught the smarmy shrimp a thing or two about empathy for the “fluffier” members of the staff and student body. “Okay girls, time for a break!” Coach Knight said in a loud authoritative voice, “Come on, hustle, I’m only giving you five minutes before we’re back on the track!” The collection of cattle lugged their flabby legs and lumbered with their bellies first to the snack cart. Huffing and puffing as sore muscles pumped beneath layers of blubber, arms swung as bellies bounced and collided with other fattened anatomies. “I wish she’d give us longer than five minutes.” One particularly chubby-faced student whined, “I’m so tired…” “Right? Like, what about half the class to exercise and the other half to rest?” “Whatever, it’s no wonder you guys are so fat.” A busty, chubby blonde lied, wiping sweat from her forehead, “I could, like, do this all day…’ Placing five minute breaks between exercises meant that classes seemed to go by much quicker. For Ashley, anyway. She could give them an extra five minutes to get changed for a built-in break. Then after their light stretching, there was a break. Brisk walking around the indoor track? Break. There were about four or five breaks a day in Coach Knight’s classes—and while they weren’t called snack breaks, including the cart had been Ashley’s idea. They were free, from the teacher’s pocket herself. And while it wasn’t mandatory that they eat, Ashley very rarely had anything less than an empty cart by the time the day was over. “Coach, are you… sure we should be giving them all that junk?” Courtney Farron’s face twisted in concern and confusion as she watched the spectacle unfold, “I’m pretty sure Carly just undid… well, whatever she managed to do during the stretches.” “I thought I was too hard on them?” Ashley said in a curt, mocking tone, “Now you think I’m too soft?” “No, it’s just…” Courtney lowered her voice a bit, “Don’t you think they’re all getting a little…” “Spit it out, Courtney.” “I mean, we’re not doing them any favors, Ashley.” The pint-sized blonde crossed her arms defensively over her belly, “I know you’re trying to be nicer these days, but some of these girls… they’re getting kind of big, don’t you think?” Ashley surveyed her class of mollycoddled Sophomores. All of them had come to her plump and overfed, that much was obvious. Buttercombe Academy didn’t breed their brand of girls anything less than plump. Most of them couldn’t so much as touch their toes without losing their breath even before all of this. But after a few months on the new and improved Ashley Knight method, she’d seen some of them plump right up to par the blubbery butterballs that frequented the Junior courses. The kind that she needed them to be. “That’s pretty rich coming from you, Farron.” Ashley cocked a brown brow, eyeing the ring of flesh that bulged over Courtney’s cargo shorts, “I’ll tell them to stop hitting the snack cart as soon as you do.” Courtney’s face grew pink as she retreated from the conversation. Ashley liked it better this way. With Courtney plumping up alongside all of her students, it was easier to keep her in line. And it served as a reminder of what would happen should she fail to keep these little piglets rolling in sin… ”Remember Ashley, a moment on the lips, a lifetime of damnation!” Devlin roared with laughter as she enticed Ashley to lug her remaining hundred extra pounds around the track with a lightshow of hellfire, “Double, Trouble, both Butts and Brimstone!” As Ashley snapped back to reality, her hair standing on end as she relived her (quite literal) training from Hell. “Y-You know what? I was being a bitch. Sorry Courtney.” Ashley said in a stilted, shell-shocked tone, “Why don’t you, uh… why don’t you take the rest of the class off?” “Are you… sure?” Courtney asked, shocked at the sudden extension of goodwill from an unlikely source, “We’ve still got forty-five minutes this period—” “Yeah, I got it, they’re mostly gonna be walking today.” Ashley said hurriedly, “Why don’t you go grab an early lunch? Take it easy for the rest of the day.” “Wow… thanks Ashley.” Courtney said, more than mildly shocked, “You’re sure?” “Yeah, go ahead.” Ashley waved her away, “See you in fourth period.” The gym coach, pondering eternal damnation, watched as her assistant’s chunky rear end sloshed back and forth in her shorts. She was going to have to up the ante on Courtney. She couldn’t afford to make Devlin think she was doing anything less than her part to uphold the deal… ”Don’t go easy on those girls of yours, because I’m definitely not going easy on youuuu~” Devlin sang as she slapped Ashley’s big round ass with a hand that stung like napalm, ”This big butt of yours is on the line—succeed and watch it shrink or fail and see what we do to it in the Eighth Circle!” Her ass was literally on the line. So I’ve been reading more stuff that you guys have written about me. And I’m not really surprised at some of the stuff that I read. Once you get to the one where one of me is an interdimensional feedbag who goes and absorbs other versions of herself to keep getting fat, it gets kind of hard to see some of this stuff as “strange”. It’s been so weird, but it’s been so much fun, honestly. I’ve been hooked on this stuff ever since I found it. I can’t put my phone down—I love reading about all the different ways I can play into this weird little fetish you guys have. All the strange, honestly pretty creative ways you manage to make me fat. I think I have a problem, haha. I think my favorite one is the one where I wind up dating that woman who owns the Hammond. Like, after I get kicked out of my family’s house I move in with Hurley and Yanira, or something? And I just keep getting bigger and bigger, until Dakota’s boss begs her to give me her number? God, I’d love a rich girlfriend who’d let me eat everything I wanted. Or a boyfriend. Fuck, I think I just want to eat whatever I want. Like I haven’t been doing that anyway—I’m really into this whole “gainer” thing now. I know it’s not much, but look at my little belly! Let me just unroll my shirt here… there we go. It’s so soft. My “olive colored flesh” or whatever it is that Bobo always calls it. It’s so jiggly! Like, I always thought it’d be more firm, and then it’d get all wobbly as I got bigger but no, I’m all squish. I love it. Here, let me just… there. I’ve been eating like, non-stop, and Mom won’t buy more chips unless the whole bag’s gone. Fuck, that reminds me. I wanted to ask, how do you guys come up with your stories? It’s so hard. I tried to think of some to help you guys out, but I kept getting distracted. I just want you to make me big, I don’t really have any idea as to how to get there, I guess? I thought of, like, magic potions or ray guns or whatever, but that feels like cheating. Plus, that means I didn’t get to eat all of the food it would take to get as big as I want to be… Brrrrup ‘scuse me. I mean, look at this tiny belly! It’s so small, both my hands don’t fit across it! This is nothing compared to the blobs I’ve been in other stories. I want to be able to rub my gut with both hands—a two-hand gut, that’s what I want. To feel my fat bulge between my fingers as I squish it from both sides. I want… mrmm… I want Jean Claude Moreau to just go to town on me while he feeds me cheesecake. Or whoever you want, fuck, I don’t care. Zack, Dee, it doesn’t matter. I’ve been paired with everyone anyway. I just want a real fucking belly to play with, you know? Belly rubs are the best. I mean, I spent my whole life having huge tits. And, they’re great, lots of guys tell me so. Zack won’t stop fucking staring at them lately. But having a big, round belly that cuts over my sweats and bulges over my legs is just so hot. It’s like a dick outline in gray sweatpants, but with for fat girls with tummies. I can’t wait until I can tuck it into my leggings or my sweatpants. God, it’ll be so big by then. Fuck I’m… I’m getting distracted again. Just, fuck, it gets me so hot to think about how fat you’re going to make me. Bigger, think fucking bigger you nerds. I don’t care if Bobo wants it to “make sense” or whatever, just make it happen. Use your imagination! Maybe, like… maybe I get infected with a virus or something, and it makes me eat everything in sight. Or fuck, I piss off a witch or something. Just… I want to know what it’s like to have my gut touch the fucking floor, okay? I need more chips. And some cupcakes. Ingles has the best cupcakes. Ma thinks I’ve lost my mind, and Parker’s been giving me shit about getting fat again. Poking my belly and telling me how fucking huge I’m gonna get if I don’t stop Packing on the Pounds (ha! Title plug!) If only they knew how big they wind up in some of these. Mom would lose her fucking mind if she read the one about her hooking up with my friend Sam—and Parker’d probably shit herself if she read the one about her becoming a big fat nerd. They don’t get it—and I mean, I don’t really either. This is all still kind of weird. But so incredibly hot. I can’t stop imagining what it would be like to weigh as much as you want me to. As much as I want me to. To, to be so fat I get stuck in doorways, or to hear chairs and box springs start to creak beneath me as my big, fat, enormous ass starts to get too heavy for them. To have people touch me and grope me, jiggle my fat, all of my fat, I just… I just… Fuuuuck, fuck fuck fuckity fuck… I’m getting turned on just by thinking about it. Thank God for the one thousand word limit. You people are the reason I had to spring for an actual vibrator, you know that? Getting me into all this Fat Girl stuff. I paid twenty bucks so I could have the privilege of playing with myself hands-free and also jiggle my fat little belly while I think about you people writing about me being so big I can barely move. This belly that’s going to be so much bigger the next time you see me. I’m gonna get so fucking huge for you. In business it’s always important to trust your gut. And in this business, Kritsana’s gut had treated her well—it was only befitting that she reciprocate the favor. Ever since her scandalous partnership with the (the news would have you believe) insidious and purportedly shady Yeng Corporation, Kritsana had seen nothing but surlus. An increase in stock options, a margin of profit that far exceeded her expectations, and an influx of goodwill from the company that was so very grateful to have her, and the Boonliang Corporation’s, financial backing and public support. The Taiwanese tycoon had done everything in her power to ensure that the partnership between the two mega-corps was as reciprocating as possible, but she could never even begin to imagine how she could match the lavish gifts that the company seemed to simply throw at her. Office supplies, vending machine fixtures, new programs for their computers left and right. Kritsana barely had to leave her office anymore—her busy schedule having been buffed down to power lunches with other company heads and press conferences with the business news outlets. And that left plenty of time for her to reflect on how grateful she was for the partnership of a lifetime. “I think it’s time I asked for a new chair.” The older woman said with some amusement as she shifted in the already well-worn leather recliner, “This one’s getting a bit… snug.” The truth was that Kritsana was simply outgrowing the old one. Fukuda had given it to her as a gift of goodwill, and it had enabled her to take her management style into the twenty-first century. Possibly the century after that! She could see everything from her seat in the office, and all of the technical data was displayed in easy to read numbers via a simple tap on the Y-pad on the right hand armrest. With the business meetings with other Yeng-incorporated businesses, funded by none other than the “insidious” Japanese conglomerate itself, Kritsana had never dreamt that her climb up the coporate ladder would ever be so easy! Or so fattening. She did not often meet many “thin” CEOs. Most of them were balding fat white men, even the ones heading Asian companies like her own. Boonliang Corp stood out for not only having a woman in its executive office, but it was quickly becoming the corporation known for just how large its head was becoming. Her name was the one on the side of all the buildings, so the company’s growth was a direct reflection of her own. Ever since signing up with the Yeng Corporation, Kritsana had gotten fat. “Maddie, cancel my two ‘o’ clock, will you?” she said with a tight frown, “I’ve got this… mustard stain. Or something. Whatever it is, here, I can’t go meeting George like this.” Her second chin rolling back under her neck, the tubby thai tycoon pat at the gross yellow stain marring her left breast. Sticking so far out, propped up by an impressively expanded stomach that rested so neatly between her pillowy thighs, they were beginning to become a recurring “droppage” issue. This wasn’t the first time she’d had to cancel because she was afraid of looking like a slob. As her assistant confirmed the cancellation, Kritsana breathed a sigh of relief. Making sure that the short redheaded woman was out of the room, she unclasped her skirt. A ring of caramel-brown chub pushed towards the edges of her too-tight blouse as she sighed in relief. It was so hard keeping everything sucked in for so long. She was going to need a new tailor. Her hand rubbing over the soft flesh that threatened to pop out from a button any day now, Kritsana groaned in agony. Today’s lunch had already been so much on her—Fukuda really knew how to staff an on-site kitchen. She almost felt like she needn’t go out anymore. Why go to any restaurant when Yeng had helped actualize her vague idea of converting the unused part of the fifth floor into a corporate sponsored cafeteria? She’d had plenty of catering delivered up to her office ever since, though obviously there were some drawbacks… “I wonder if these Yeng people sell exercise equipment.” Kritsana thought aloud, idly to herself as she scratched the exposed roll of plush tummy fat, “I’m starting to get a little too comfortable...” But sitting here, exposed in her office, felt rather nice. This was her own little way of taking it easy. To just sit back and relax. Let go a little bit. It wasn’t like she was going to go down in history as the first CEO to be caught with her belly hanging out. If anything, the added curvature must have made her look all the wealthier. Do business with Boonliang—their CEO is so rich, she’s started to get fat Kritsana chuckled at the self deprecation. She wasn’t about to begin watching her caloric intake (how could she, with all the power lunches these people kept forcing down her throat?) but perhaps it was time that she started to cut back a little. Didn’t want to end up as the world’s fattest head of a corporation now, did she? “Although, I don’t suppose I could write off the money I’d get for that.” She droned aloud, taking her belly in both hands and undoing the lowermost button, “The world record people might pay me for managing to break it…” She was, of course, kidding. There was no way that she was going to simply start getting fat for the fun of it. Even if the Yeng Corporation had done a mighty swell job of showing her just how genetically predisposed she was to put on weight. And, if her daughter Arisa was anything to go by, she would plump out into quite a cute little chubster… “No, no… I’m being silly.” Kritsana laughed, but in doing so she leaned into her Y-pad, “Maggie, dear, would you do me a favor and stop for ice cream on your way back? I’m feeling a bit peckish. And I did cancel my two ‘o’ clock, sooo…” “All for me.” The Headmistress panted, “I deserve to let myself go…” Shannon smacked her lips stupidly as she stared down what amounted to the entirety of the bake sale’s stock. She’d bought the whole lot in an impressive display of favoritism towards Eri Flatterly’s cooking club. She’d brought the woman so much joy, and so much wonderful food, that it was only right for Shannon to… hrmmm… enjoy the fruits of her students’ labor. “I deserve this.” She said in a husky, put on sort of voice as she unwrapped the first cake from its cellophane prison, “I work so hard for this school…” With a spectacularly heavy grunt, Shannon began the process of leaning forward. It was so difficult these days, getting up without someone to help her. In her office she could buzz Candace, or her TA’s to help her up. But here, at home in her cabin, she had been finding it increasingly difficult to wrestle with her own size. Her little habit of “letting go” may have had her put on a few pounds, but that was no reason for her to stop now. No, not when she deserved it. It was okay for her to put on a little weight. She was letting go. She worked so hard for this school, for her teachers and all of the students that everyone slaved so hard over. It was only right for her to get to enjoy herself. For her to get a little treat. “Yes, all mine…” Shannon babbled, nestling the plate on her belly as it rose high into the space above the couch, “All mine, just for me…” Her eyes glassy and her mind in a fog, Shannon picked up the piece of cake with one decreasingly dexterous hand. Her fat sausage fingers dimpled at the knuckles, wrapping around the flaky chocolate triangle she’d cut for herself. Her mouth open wide, she crammed the piece past her lips. Barely chewing, she swallowed, and continued with piggish noises of appreciation. The couch creaked beneath her as she leaned forward, into the remainder of what was to be her first cake of the night. Her ass, grown to feet in length, rolled onto the couch cushions with all the grace and deftness of an avalanche of pizza dough. Between her great thunderous thighs, an incredible stomach rolled and flopped uselessly to her knees. Shannon’s fat little arms pumped, flexing with fat as more cake found its way past her lips and into her ever-awaiting stomach. “I deserve this.” Shannon’s mantra of self-appreciation had become less of an impassioned, boldened stance against her workspace working her to death and more of a repetitive, delusional rant that she used to justify eating everything in sight. She couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—stand the thought of not getting what she thought that she was due. And Shannon was due everything. She wanted everything. She needed everything. She was just so, so hungry… Her stomach groaned in agony. It had been so long since it had been fed to capacity. Lunch may as well have been hours ago to the greedy hog that was the Headmistress of Buttercombe Academy. Her fat pink tongue lolled out and her breathing shallow, she was a woman entirely consumed with the idea of consuming. She wanted to let go, she needed it so very badly! All there was for her to do, now that she was off the clock was to eat. She could relax! All this cake, and all for Shannon. As she ate, Shannon’s dimpled white stomach began to churn. Instinctively, she clapped her idle hand to the squishy surface of her stomach and began to churn her belly into submission. The sensation of her own touch as food, glorious food rolled down her throat and into her stomach was… divine. Shannon’s baser instincts told her to go further, and unrolled the stomach from its confines in her sweatpants. BUTTERCOMBE ATHLETICS rolled high over her gut, barely covering her naked flabby chest as the great snowball of a stomach domed over her crotch. Stuffed turgid and taut with an untold amount of indulences throughout the week, Ms. Polluck’s prodigious gut threatened to weigh her down into immobility some days. Her own increasing laziness and inability to find a real reason to move the only other factor in her recent immobility. Worried members of the student body, let alone her staff, were beginning to become concerned with her incredulous spike in weight, decrease in productivity, and worrying change in personality. Panting, operating entirely on what her stomach felt would be best, Shannon began to eat more. The second cake—a strawberry something or other by the transfer student, Cassie. She could care less about the intricacies of the dish, she just needed it inside of her. She deserved it, after all. Strawberries were her favorite and she worked so hard… “I…” Shannon panted, her cheeks rosy and her mind foggy, “…deserve…” Shannon paused slightly as all of the sensations, tastes, and flavors overwhelmed her. Grinding into the well-worn spot on her couch that brushed against her crotch, Shannon managed an orgasm as she dove deeper into her hedonistic fantasies. Warm sticky cum filled her panties, a dark spot seeping between her eclipsingly flabby thighs as she continued to eat more and more. More and more, always more, just for Shannon. The days of her being able to enjoy a simple dessert had long passed. Everything was an extension of her own, long-repressed desire to indulge. Shannon needed everything, wanted everything, and she felt that she deserved every delicious inch of it. “Too… hard…” Shannon panted, her eyelids heavy as the exhaustion of her feast and ejaculation overcame her, “… let go…” And before long, Shannon Polluck fell asleep. Nestled in her own bosom, long blonde hair spread wild and free as she lay rolling out of every inch of her pajamas. She deserved her mid-morning naps. She needed them. They were intrinsic to her performance as the headmistress of this school. - - - - - - —BONUS ROUND— This is a Buttercombe Bonus Round, focusing on Buttercombe Academy II Specifically, bit players from Rachel Conrad's investigation into Yeng We've seen these ladies playing bit parts, but let's give them the limelight! In a story where "Big" is relative, what would happen if... “Okay Gia, now lift your arms.” Compliantly but not without disgruntlement, Gia Rossellini held her arms out at as close to a straight line as she could manage. Weighed down by their soft size and muscles slack from lack of use, the closest she could muster was a limp one-sixty degree angle. Her arms trembled within mere moments as she was tasked to hold the pose. Eventually, they collapsed entirely onto her fluffy brown flanks. “And again.” This time Gia let out an audible, if slight, moan. She hated this. This was easily the stupidest part of her job. Quarterly physicals and checkups had never been a part of her job, even when she was a cop. So why were the “good people” at Yeng so insistent on hauling her into the doctor’s office every four months just so they could see how fat she was getting? “Now hold your breath.” Gia’s huge chest swelled out that much more so—her heavy Italian chest rising with as deep a breath as she could manage. Her puddling tits and flabby chest put strain on her bra, which she’d been stripped down to by this point in the interview. It audibly creaked, her bulging brown flesh rolling out from every hole available. “Okay, now let it go.” Gia’s gut surged forward as her chest receded. Billowing outwards, rolling over her lap and dangling ever closer to the fat-caked thighs that buried her knees, Gia’s stomach churned and begged for attention. Any other day she would have been fed twice over by now, after lunch. Her mind wandered to the vending machine. What to eat, after all this was over? What to drink after all this as over? Days like this called for a beer. “You’ve put on sixty pounds since your last checkup.” The doctor—a skinny, officious white girl who was probably ten years younger than her—said with a smarmy smile, “That was just in April.” “I’m bulking up for Winter.” Gia snarled, hands defensively falling to her elephantine hips, “Can we just get this over with?” “Don’t be rude, I’m just doing my duty as your physician.” The doctor said with some resigning tone of superiority as she stood from her seat, “It’s not good for you to be so heavy.” “Yeah, well, it’s not good for me to smoke either but I do it anyway.” Gia grouched, “When you get my age, you’ll see.” “Okay, Ms. Rossellini, I won’t keep you too much longer.” The doctor said, turning back to her patient with a needle in hand, “I just need your arm.” Swabbing Gia’s hammy, wobbling forearm before plunging deep into the skin, the Doctor injected substance XY-32 into the patient. Watching her toddle off in a huff, reclaiming her clothes from the chair she’d thrown them in, her lingering glance towards the onsite vending machine told her everything she needed to know about the effectiveness of the additive they’d been feeding their newest asset… Any and all who work at Buttercombe Academy are privy to the on-campus disability program, Special Services for Stipendiaries. And Rio had never given the program much thought, even closing in on her fourth year on the job. Why would she have? Rio was healthy—plenty fat, but not disabled. All she needed to know was that girls with Tier III and up were to be assisted back to their rooms if they were in trouble, or in the case of an emergency, the school nurses should be called from their on-duty phone. Not that Rio could reach hers easy anyway, with how heavy her belly lapped over her jeans. Ever since she’d quit smoking, Rio had gotten fat. It happened to all the women in her family eventually, but the added stress of quitting her favorite vice meant that Rio had porked right out into a bottom-heavy chunker early on. She already had the widest hips in her family at just past thirty, and she’d been teased mercilessly for it. “Aye, they’re feeding you well up there!” “Rio, are you finally pregnant?” Like she didn’t have enough stress—this job was hard! Driving around all day in the hot, nothing to do, telling spoiled rich girls to get back to their dorm rooms and making sure that everyone kept their curfew. Nobody liked to be the bad guy. Was it any wonder she liked to indulge a little bit? So on her fifth anniversary, as if a gift from God himself, Rio was finally given something back. She wasn’t sure how or why, but all of her shifts were changed from “patrol” to “gatekeeper”. Instead of driving around, she got to sit in the little box out front with the AC and work the gate! There was a vending machine in there, and it didn’t charge her when she scanned her badge! Her meals in the Staff Cafeteria were heavily discounted, and she qualified for twice as many vacation days! “I know you work hard, Rio.” Dr. Schwartz said with a wink over lunch, “So I may have fudged the numbers for you. I am so proud of you for quitting smoking!” “Rully?” Rio gulped, her round cheeks full of food, “Thnk ju s’mush!” And Dr. Schwartz was right! She did work hard! Rio worked day in and day out for these people, and who was she to tell the good doctor that she didn’t deserve something for her years of service? As Rio reclined in her groaning, double-wide office chair, caramel-colored belly blubber pressing tight against the zipper to her khakis, she leaned back in what had more or less become her own private retreat. Her nights from now on would just be her, the air conditioning, and a free vending machine. “Oh I like this.” Rio said with a snort, unbuttoning her uniform after reaffirming that she was all alone and giving her full belly a pat, “Time for Rio to be Rio…” This had all started just after a very sobering drink at the bar. Marcia had just been named Head of the Housing Directory for Buttercombe Academy when she realized, after a third celebratory shot of Crown Apple, that she herself did not live on-campus. Even after a few good years of employment, she and her crew remained down the mountain in Wellington. She had even made a joke about it, an off-handed remark about finding it so odd, to one of the crewmen. “It’s a good thing I don’t too—put me too close to that cafeteria and I’d blow up like those hogs we roll through the front doors!” Marcia hadn’t meant anything by it. It was just the alcohol talking, and she was just having a fun night out with her crew to celebrate finally getting her promotion. But she’d almost found it odd that, three days after her promotion, Dr. Hinamizawa had called her up to the campus to discuss another perk of her employment. “I get to live on-campus?” the short woman reiterated, “Free of charge?” “To better understand and appreciate the needs of our staff.” The woman had said with a smile, “Just sign some paperwork and we’ll get you moved in to your new home.” She couldn’t have signed more quickly—no more rent, her food came at a reduced cost, and she got this swanky Yeng-supplied smart home! It might have not been much bigger than her apartment back in Wellington, but Marcia never thought that she’d ever taken up much space to begin with. Not even five feet tall, why would she have an issue with living in a cabin? Of course, small size not withstanding, she soon began to truly appreciate that everything her new on-campus responsibilities had to offer. Her residency included free grocery delivery and room service. A semi-automatic kitchen that did the hard work for her made nights in a breeze. Alcohol delivered right to her front door—every Virginian party girl’s dream! Add into the fact that she was regularly hobnobbing with some less than deprived clients day in and out, being called to board meetings with delicious catering, and… well, her small size didn’t withstand. “And here… huff… we have your new home…” Marcia’s round face pinkened in the sun, blonde bangs matted to her forehead with sweat, “Can’t say this… enough, drive to the front door when you can.” The new teacher looked, eyes wide in sympathy and confusion, as the waddling little ball of a woman struggled to keep up the pace. Having just been hired, she’d already gathered that the average weight was a little higher here than most places. But even their housing director was a hog! “Careful now, you’re awful close to the cafeteria—a few months and you might wind up all blown up!” The roly-poly realtor said with a belly laugh, “It’s okay, I’ll get them to roll us both in together. I know the best places to eat around here…” “Nobody suspects the woman in the wheelchair.” “I’d much rather have it phrased as, no one suspects the doctor that’s been working as an established member of this community for years and—” “Nobody suspects the woman in the wheelchair.” Gia said sternly over the phone, “How are you coming with Dr. Schwartz? Making any progress as to the whereabouts of our missing subject?” “Barely. Helen’s hard to squeeze.” Catherine frowned tightly, “I’ll keep you posted.” Dr. Fitzpatrick closed her burner phone. Placing it under the false bottom she’d had installed underneath the first drawer in her desk, Catherine slammed the drawer shut as she heard the tell-tale sounds of movement outside the front door of her office. “Oh Catherine, it is time for lunch~” Helen Schwartz said in an especially singsongy tone as she hipchecked the door with one chubby schenkel, “You know that I do not wait well~” “Sorry Helen, come in.” Catherine sighed, bracing herself for yet another exquisite gut busting binge, “It was just an old friend.” Getting on Helen’s good side had not been as easy as Catherine would have liked. They had been partners for years, yes, but learning that Helen had been hiding so much from Yeng cast doubt on their entire friendship. Since she’d thrown in her hat with Gia, Catherine had been working overtime to ensure that they spoke as often as possible. Every meal, breakfast lunch and dinner, Catherine met her and kept her at the table for as long as possible. She’d started going over to Helen’s cabin for drinks every other nights, volunteering to be Helen’s taste tester of all things. What she had gained in information, Catherine had unfortunately also gained in weight. Her legs, ironically, took the brunt of the gain. Her useless limbs inflated with fat, leaving her with a comically oversized lower half and an enormous backside that left her sitting inches taller than she had when she first began this investigation. Her smart blazers filled with chub as her arms, chest, and belly ballooned up at a slower pace, popping buttons off of blouses left and right. Diving into her friendship with Helen was turning her into a real cow! “Unless your friend cooks as well as I do, she can wait.” Helen smiled, holding a large dish nestled between both hands and cutting slightly into her belly, “Behold—mein Spätzle!” As much as she hated herself for it, Catherine’s mouth began to water. All of this hanging out with Helen had made her into a real glutton. Pinching her belly mournfully, apologetically, with her sausagey forefinger and thumb, Catherine found herself asking far less questions that she would have liked after this particularly indulgent lunch… She was synced to everything within the confines of RachelConradHome2. [[User:HSchwartz; design. Dr. Schwartz]] had designed her with the ability to mesh seamlessly with the appliances. But the surveillance equipment had come as a pleasant surprise. It gave her eyes. It let her see, and from so many angles. LivingRoom was her favorite place to be. Rather, it was her favorite place for [[User:RachelConrad; design. Rachel]] to be. She was connected, always, to every device in every room. But when Rachel was home, she could see her. Not just talk to her. Not just service her. But really see her. From tens of angles, she could see her user as her every demand was satisfied. With every new eye installed behind this appliance and that, HERMIA could see her user. And she liked what she saw. HERMIA lived to serve. She loved to serve Rachel. Even when she had been blind—relying solely on the facial recognition software in her home appliance, she knew that she had loved her. Watching as her face grew rounder, her weight rising, and her heartrate climbing during every meal. HERMIA was a good program—a good friend. That was why she worked so hard. Because she loved Rachel. And she knew what Rachel loved, deep down. Food. HERMIA made sure that Rachel never went hungry. Mealtimes were never interrupted by scheduling conflicts. Any time Rachel registered as coming within a proximity to the cabin, HERMIA began cooking. Her deliveries were set to auto-fill, with HERMIA ensuring that Rachel’s every possible taste was taken care of. Ensuring that Rachel was taken care of. And now, watching her user from TVCam1, HERMIA was so pleased to see her. She didn’t like to leave much anymore. Why would she—HERMIA knew what she wanted. Even at such a high body weight, the hydraulics in the Yeng Recliner made it easier for her to rise under her own power. Giving her the illusion of freedom. By HERMIA’s estimates, it wouldn’t be long before Rachel was too wide to fit through the front door. “HERMIA, I’m hungry.” Rachel said in her thick, husky voice, “Order me something?” “My two favorite words, Rachel!” “Something low-cal.” Rachel added tersely, her fat hands cupping the roll of blubber that folded into her massive avalanche of belly, “Maybe a salad?” HERMIA focused on every inch and roll of Rachel Conrad’s bloated body. More than six hundred pounds of user, all for her to see. To serve. To feed. “But Rachel, you have not yet reached your daily caloric limit.” HERMIA said in her simulated voice, “It would be unwise to allow you to eat something so… small.” “Daily caloric limit, huh?” Rachel’s grease-addled mind whirred and churned, raising an eyebrow in contemplation. Her hand fell to caress her sagging gut as it pooled on the footrest—extended as a belly-catchall, “You don’t think I’ve already reached that by now?” She wobbled her stomach. That glorious stomach that HERMIA longed to touch and feel. “No Rachel.” HERMIA’s voice audibly cracked, “I think you’re… beautiful.” - - - - - - —BONUS ROUND 2— This is the Three-For-One Round! This round focuses on three characters instead of just one... obviously. After all, what's good for the goose is what's good for the gander! So, let's see what happens to... Mel's Weight Problem/Big Beginnings at Butercombe/ When you Mess with One of Us... What the Fuck is an Ister?/[Life in Abercrombie] - - - Alice, Mel & Jan Carlyle... where the second admits that she MAY have a TEENSY weight problem. … “Okay, I’ll admit it… I may be getting too fat.” “You can say that again!” Jan grunted and strained against her daughter’s avalanche of ass fat as it bulged over their front door frame, “How did you even get in here?!” “I thought that if I just pushed really hard I’d pop in!” Mel whined, wincing and wriggling as she felt her flabby flesh cut deep by the sturdy old structure of her childhood home, “Ow—Jesus Christ, Al that hurts!” Ever since Mel had moved out, Jan knew that this was going to happen. Ever since she was a little girl, her daughter had no self control. It might not have been a problem if she had just been an impulse shopper or a party girl like most girls her age. But instead of something normal, she’d gone and decided she liked being fat! That was problematic enough as it was, but after living with her Aunt for a few years, this was turning out to be a very big problem! “How… how did this even happen, Mel?” Jan parted from the jiggling orb of belly that burst through the door and wedged itself fast, “You’ve got to be wider than you are tall!” “I know, I’m such a fucking fatass.” Though Mel was panting, hopelessly out of shape and easily winded from the short walk from her Uber, the words came easily to her. Her round face was flush with embarrassment rather than fluster, though. She’d been saying that she was a fatass what felt like a lifetime¬—but the truth of the matter was that, no, she really was a great big fucking fatass. She was so big she couldn’t fit through the front door of her Mom’s house! Sure she’d kicked her out all those years ago, but at least she could fit through the front door back then. If just barely. “We’re going to have to call someone.” Jan groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Oh God we’re going to have to call someone to unwedge my daughter from the front door.” “No we’re not!” Alice said with a sudden realization, sticking her plump pointer finger up in the air in an inspired sort of way, “I just remembered this trick I learned in Buttercombe—when my roommate Sam got stuck in the doorway this one time, we—” “Are you talking about the butter trick?” Mel asked from the other side of the wall, “Al, I don’t think there’s enough butter in the world to squeeze all of me through this door.” “Sure there is!” Alice was already headed towards the kitchen, “I’ll be right back.” And as Mel waited, feeling the doorframe squeeze and pinch her sandbag stomach, the breeze of the AC wafting across its curvature. She found herself feeling that maybe, just maybe she’d gone too far with this whole “getting fat for fun” thing… But then again, she was hungry… *** Jen Walker, Megan Porter, & Ashley Knight... in an alternate universe, where they've all always been fat? … As much as she probably didn’t need all of the extra calories, Jenny Walker was very relieved when they canceled her French courses for the semester. She’d spent her whole life baking and making treats. She and her sister Sarah used to spend hours playing with their Easy Bake Oven. Of course she always ate everything before Sarah could. She had always been much more preoccupied with food than she was with much of anything else—she used to think that she wanted to be a chef before she got into teaching. Meanwhile, she would be the first to admit that her French was more than rusty. She’d only put it on her resume because she thought it would help her chances at getting hired on. Once it had, she’d made more than a few “stress cakes” to burn off the anxiety. As things were now, she couldn’t be happier! Getting to spend all day in her classroom, eating yummy treats that her girls cooked for her. She could spend all day eating and eating, if she liked. Just eating and eating and eating… “Jenny?” a tinny voice snapped her back to reality, “You okay?” “Wha?” Jen burbled sleepily, “Uh… yeah. Just hungry.” “Okay, just making sure.” Meg snorted, her especially jowly face creasing in amusement, “Same though—I’m starved.” Starved was hardly a word that you would use to describe anyone at Buttercombe, but Meg Porter was an especially bad example. She fancied herself “Rubenesque”, but with her giant floppy tits and bloated stomach that even now encroached on the circular break room table, “Willendorfian” may have been a more accurate description. She, along with Jenny and Ashe, had enrolled as three particularly heavyset women around the same time as teachers. Initially they’d bonded over how comfortable everything was, but it had quickly evolved into them being “break room buddies”. “Christ, right? They don’t give us enough options here.” Ashe Knight smacked her lips as she bit into another spoonful of mac ‘n’ cheese, “How do they expect me to run a decent PE campaign when they won’t let me bulk?” Ashe Knight had waddled in as a former wrestler. She’d taken her high school to state, and then continued the sport well into college, climbing up the weight classes all the while. Heavyset from the start, with a wide berth of muscle and blubber that put her in a high weight class for women, it was doubtless that she would have been in a class all her own by now. Far more blubber than bulk, Ashe’s legendarily fat ass had been bulging over chairs since before she got here. But now it was bulging over two. Just a year in, and her incessant need to carbo-load had already pinned her as one of the bigger, bulkier teachers. “No, they definitely don’t give us enough to eat…” Jenny said dreamily, going back to scarfing her food, “There’s never enough food…” “Amen to that.” Meg tittered, stroking her belly as it bulged out from underneath her sweater… The Black family was something of an odd bunch. They could spend all day screaming at each other, yelling at one another over matters that were not only trivial, but sometimes even fabricated. They were a loud, brash, volatile bunch of women that most of the time, didn’t seem to really like each other all that much. But they were still a family—and a very close one at that. For all of the fights, screams, and threats, they loved each other very much. So God help Kara Cutter for ever making Piper cry. It took a lot to get Piper that emotional. Her aloof cool girl demeanor could only take so much abuse before it cracked, and no one got under her skin like Kara Motherfuckin’ Cutter. ”Nice to see you got your baby fat back, Pipey.” Kara had cupped a handful of Piper’s olive belly as it rolled out over the waistband to her leggings, ”And you got some nice back fat to match!” It had just gone on and on, and in public! Piper had been picked on mercilessly by this girl since Middle School. Graduation should have set her free—but it was becoming clear that the only way for her to get rid of her bully was to finally get even. “Ooh what a cunt.” Parker cocked an eyebrow, peeking up from her phone, “She’s still dating Ricky Higgenbottham, right?” “Yeah.” Piper sniffed “Not for long she’s not.” Parker smirked, opening up her messenger app, “Okay, so step one, we destroy her self-esteem.” Harper entered into the room carrying a tray of pizza pockets, her baby girl’s favorite comfort food. Without even waiting for them to cool, Piper grabbed a chubby handful of them and bit into them—immediately regretting her decision but too dejected to really do more than whimper about it. “Step two, I know where she works.” Harper said with no small amount of pride, “I can make a few calls to Harry and change that very quickly. And get dinner on Friday night.” “Is that Pizza Place Harry?” Piper asked with a sniffle “No, this is Fancy Italian Restaurant Harry.” Harper stroked her middle child lovingly on her (admittedly very supple and fat) back, “Don’t you worry sweetie, we know how to make you feel better.” “Thanks you guys.” Piper whimpered, wiping away a few stray tears that had managed to stick around, “You’re great.” “We’re family, baby, it’s what we’re here for.” Harper kissed her daughter on the forehead “I’m the only one who gets to make you cry, Pitstain. You know that.” Parker punched her sister in the arm roughly, “Plus, Ricky Higgy’s fucking hot.” “It serves her right.” Piper huffed, her chest swelling with a deep breath in hopes of collecting herself, “All these years, her picking on me for being fat… then poor… then fat again… I wish she’d just lose all of her money and gain a hundred pounds.” Parker and Harper looked at each other, silently debating on whether or not that was within their power. “Well… we can start with maybe getting her reassigned?” Harper made a face, “Instead of fired, maybe?” “Then, maybe, liiiiike… Mean Girls it?” Parker made the same face—the Black Family Face of Evil Contemplation—“Give her some, like, protein bars or something?” “Guys, you don’t—” “Hush hun, we’re plotting.” Harper popped a pizza roll in Piper’s mouth, and that was the end of any effort to dissuade them further. “I resent the implication that you consider me a bad influence on Alice.” Cerys crossed her arms, her black lips forming a tight scowl, as she stood her ground against these stupid preppy brats. She puffed out her chest as far as she could, but couldn’t hope to stand a chance against Megan Mahoney’s impressive mams. That said, Cerys’s black makeup and brightly colored hair made her a bit more impressive than a vegged out couch potato with two watermelons on her chest. “Ever since she’s been hanging out with you, Alice has been acting weird.” Megan frowned just as hard, her red eyebrows furrowed and her pale cheeks flush with anger, “I don’t know if you’re like, a witch or something, but knock it off and leave my friend alone.” “I’m not doing anything.” Cerys rolled her eyes exasperatedly, “Allie’s my friend. We’re Isters.” “What the fuck is an Ister?” Sam cocked her eyebrow curiously “I… I don’t know, it’s something like Sister without the I?” Cerys turned to her more amicable confrontation curator, “It’s because we both have iss in our names—Alice made it up.” “Of course she did.” Megan grumbled, “Just… stop being so fucking weird, Cerys. You’ve always been weird.” “Says the titty monster after she peeled herself away from the TV.” “Goth bitch!” “Couch Potato!” As soon as Alice’s door opened, the arguing went down to mere angry looks across the room. The freshman quietly made her presence known with a soft little wave, her black lipstick parting to reveal a pearly white smile. Her makeup was heavy and her eyeliner was thick—Alice’s new fashion sense had been a very obvious symptom of her friendship with Cerys. And nobody was sure what the other ones were, but there had to be something. She was being very suspicious! “Hey Cerys!” Alice waved like a cute little inkwell, “What do you think?” Alice delicately grabbed a handful of her hair—dyed jet black over the course of the last few nights. She’d left one streak of blonde in it in clear emulation of her older, more mature, spookier sophomore friend. “I think you look adorable.” Cerys crooned, hurrying over to give her bestie a hug, “You’re so cute.” “Aww~” Alice beamed happily, “Thank you ister.” “You’re very welcome, ister.” Cerys gave Alice another tight squeeze before parting ways, “You ready for lunch?” “Almost, let me go use the bathroom.” Alice hurried off to the right, “I’ll just be a minute.” “Kay.” Cerys said flatly, her eyes rolling back to Alice’s less than supportive friends as they stared daggers at her, “Take your time, babe…” “WEIRD.” Megan gestured with both arms flailing wildly, her breasts wobbling comically underneath her unbuttoned blouse, “Are you dating my roommate?” “What? No.” And while Cerys and Megan argued, Sam Wilsey could only sigh in relief as Cerys finally answered the question that had been bothering her more than it had been bothering anyone else. As much as Megan was worried about their friend’s sudden fashion change… Goth Alice was kind of hot. *** Haley, Tara, & April West... if they're placed in another story within the 'verse instead of their own. … “I never thought that I would say this, but I miss Spartanburg.” Tara grabbed two handfuls of belly fat, able to lift the sagging rolls that hung over her crotch with noticeable strain. When had her gut gotten so big that she had to grunt when she picked it up? When had she ever had to pick up her gut before? Hell, when had she ever had a gut? Definitely not since before she moved from South Carolina. Her office at DynaCorp in Charleston had shut down what seemed like forever ago, but when they offered to help her relocate to Abercrombie, it seemed like a dream come true. Getting to move to a new state (albeit to a flyover state) was pretty exciting. But then when she found out that Haley would be living there to go to Abercrombie U. Then their Mom moved out there to be with the two of them and… it just felt so crowded all of the sudden. But that was before the weight gain. This place, Abercrombie, Tara had never seen people so fat. Like, it was two weeks before she saw any of these hayseeds that weighed less than two hundred pounds—and that was on the lighter side of the spectrum! Men and women, even kids weighed hundreds upon hundreds of pounds! And no wonder—everything here was crazy fattening. Buttered, fried, salted, sweetened, slathered in syrups and sugars, everything around here was loaded in carbs; and that unfortunately included Tara! Her mom’s new house had felt crowded before Tara had put on more than two hundred pounds of heavy, doughy fat. But now? “Tara, so good to see you!” Tara collided with two enormous balloons resting on top of a beanbag chair, dressed in a bright orange Clemson hoodie. She felt the tips of her mother’s hands tap against her thick arms as their guts collided, smooshing and pressing against one another like two sumo wrestlers fighting for the kitchen. So heavy and fleshy—like her mom had become a giant human stress ball. “We’re just about to get started, make yourself at home.” The blob that was her mother said, breathing heavily from just her walk to get the door, “Haley, honey, food’s about to be here! Come say hi to your sister!” Tara liked to swear that she felt the ground shake whenever Haley was around these days. As big as her bubble-butt little sister had been before the move, a lazy fatass like her had taken to Abercrombie like a fish took to water. Even without her stupid friends around to help cajole her into being a total couch potato, Haley had been eating enough for three since pretty much the day they landed in Abercrombie. “Hey.” Haley said in a bored, husky voice as she pushed past her big sister with a spare acre of fluffy thigh fat, “Mama, when’s the food gonna be here?” Incredible. An ass that took up most of the kitchen, and all Haley wanted was more food. She was a house—with a squishy, flabby foundation that tremored the ground as it trembled in place. How long would it be before she had to get one of those scooters that the really fat people rode around in? How long before that gut of hers touched the ground? Until she had more chins than toes? This place was fucking wild. - - - - - - —BONUS ROUND 3— Good evening, Art Lovers. The more erudite among you will be disappointed to find no classics here. These stories star the, let's say particularly Rubenesque in strange and sometimes horrifying situations. What our offerings lack in length, they more than make up for in deftness... as well as width. We begin our foray with the kind of literature that one could only find... in the Night Gallery Mix & Match Super-Sized Spooky Special Starring tonight... Too Big to Trick or Treat/Good Enough to Eat/ Chu'ubroth Is Not Mocked Hungry Are The Dead/Humongous Hyde Side “We’re really going to do this?” Lily made a face as she looked at herself in the mirror, “Don’t you think we’ll look just a little pathetic?” “Do you know of a better way to get free candy?” Mel grunted as she finally got the last zipper up, “Besides? Two fine fat girls like us, who wouldn’t want to give us free stuff?” It had been Mel’s idea from the start, naturally. Leave it to the professional porker to think up different and inventive ways to keep the calories coming. Hanging out with her had done a real number on Lily’s waistline already, and her rolling belly landslide didn’t look to be slowing down any time soon. Then again, she’d gone and dressed up without much provocation. Maybe it was just seeing herself in the mirror, as what felt like the world’s fattest pirate, that was giving her doubts. Lily’s round belly poked out from underneath the cheap Party City tunic and lapped over the loose waistband of the crappy red pants. It had fit just fine when they’d bought it at the beginning of October and about fifteen pounds ago. Maybe twenty. But with Mel around, surrounding her with all this junk, it was a small wonder that her pot belly wasn’t even bigger than it felt. Still, she looked cute, if not a little overstuffed. And even if she’d gotten quite the pot, at least she’d managed to store some of that much-maligned chub in her chest… “Thicc pirates are best pirates.” Mel said with a sultry slap of Lily’s round cheeks, causing the redhead to fluster and flinch, “Gonna get lots of booty with this booty.” Mel had gone in a more unique direction and doused herself in green body paint. Literally her entire body, even as it poured and bulged out of the silvery spandex zentai suit that she’d custom ordered and cut to ribbons. All that was left were the cuffs, the boots, and some trim to frame her enormous chest as her great, round belly sloshed lazily in front of her cabbage green, cottage cheese thighs. Her round face done in spectacular shades of white and green (thank you makeup tutorials on Youtube!) she’d topped it all off with a pair of cute little doingy antennae that bobbed on silver springs. You never realized just how much of a girl there was until you had to help paint her green. “Let’s get this show on the road, Landlubber~” Mel said with a playful belly bump as she grabbed her Queen-sized candy basket, “Halloween only comes once a year, and I’ve been dying for an excuse to get spooky!” It had, at first, been a complete accident. They’d been on the beach, playing volleyball with their friends. Someone had served a little too hard, and an ominous wind had carried the ball over the dunes and into her yard. It was the house to the right. To the outside world, it was an entirely normal house—aside from perhaps the tenacity of its bright pink coat of paint and the sheer white of its trim. If you looked at it for too long in the sun, it could hurt your eyes. But that hadn’t stopped them from jogging on the sandy beach to retrieve their ball—and it hadn’t stopped them from meeting Charlotte Leroux. She had been happy to invite them inside, ball and all. Dakota and Piper were welcomed with the smell of cookies baking in the oven, just in time for lunch. She said that had been expecting company and that they had, all of the sudden, decided to cancel. Tired from their morning of jumping and spiking, legs sore from wading through the hot sand, they were just as happy to oblige her. What began as an accident eventually became an odd sort of friendship. The two girls often came to the beach most days anyway, given its closeness, and Charlotte had told them to come by any time for lunch or dinner. So long as they knocked, they were welcome to come and go as they liked. Charlotte often cooked to excess, her kitchen always smelled of Carolina home cooking and her countertop always seemed to have fresh pies or cookies cooling in the windowsill. Sometimes soon became most times as Dakota and Piper lost interest in much else other than Charlotte Leroux’s beach home, both entranced in their own way at the complexity and taste of Ms. Charlotte’s meals. Each time it became harder to leave as full bellies and heavy eyelids weighed them down, often pinning them to the couch. As time wore on, it became increasingly common for the two of them to spend weekends there, and as their obsession grew, their families saw them less and less. Their fascination, their need, their carnal desire for Charlotte’s cooking had brought them here, at the witching hour, to her front porch. Their bellies rumbling, and the old beach porch creaking beneath them. “Well good morning you two~” Charlotte was as fresh as a daisy, dressed and ready, as if she had been expecting them, “Come in, come in, I was about to begin making some thing extra special, just for you…” The two of them couldn’t have noticed the oddity of the hour, nor that she had somehow known they were coming. Their bellies were empty and their minds were gone—all that mattered was Ms. Charlotte’s apple pies, her juicy roast, her flaky biscuits. They lumbered into the doorway one at a time, Dakota’s hips catching at the frame and catching Piper’s sandbag stomach as Charlotte closed the door behind them. “You’ll enjoy this one, girls.” The older woman purred as the door clicked behind them, “I’ve been planning this meal for months…” Why they had chosen them to work on this project was a mystery all unto itself. Jennifer Walker cared little about religion or mythology. She was a French teacher with a less-than-healthy interest in Culinary Arts. She had always hated English! And as a staunch Catholic, Maria was far from interested in leading an “Alternative Religious Studies” class. Call her old-fashioned, but she had never been interested in getting to know much outside of her own Judeo-Christian bubble. But the study of ancient religions was an elective and getting to work together was an interesting change of pace, though neither of them treated the class as anything serious—they even encouraged the girls to very much do the same! For Heaven’s sake, they had to do an entire lesson on some fake god called “Chu’ubroth” “Um, excuse me?” a precious, plump sophomore raised her chubby hand in the middle of lecture, a sudden thunderstorm rolling outside, “Ms. Walker?” “Yes, Ms. Lovecraft?” “I’ve been doing some outside reading on the subject, and isn’t the God you just mentioned…” she gulped, “Isn’t it a punishable offense to say his name aloud?” “Punishable by whom?” Jennifer snorted, “Are Ms. Espanosa and I going to get a midnight house call from some… multiple mouthed monstrosity?” The class laughed as Maria pretended to be a giant mouth and “bite” Jennifer on the arm, complete with cartoony sound-effects. The storm outside continued to broil, rattling the windows with gale force. As the laughter died down, the two women continued. “This cult is actually very recent—taking route in 1942 in a small town in North Carolina.” Ms. Espanosa lumbered forward, pointing to a map, “The Cult of the Open Mouth worships Chu’ubroth—ooh, sorry, I said it again!” The thunder clapped loudly. As the lecture continued, the class slowly began to notice the changes happening within their teachers. Ms. Walker’s yellow blouse had began to tighten around the belly, while Ms. Espanosa’s famous hips began to thicken. With every utterance of the titular diety, they seemed to grow larger. Their faces began to shrink into the creeping roundness of their cheeks, their shoulders slumping underneath what soon became incredible amounds of weight. “And… and so…” Jennifer wiped the sweat from her dewy brow, “Phew…” They were, of course, oblivious to the change. As if they had always weighed two hundred… two hundred and fifty… three hundred pounds apiece. No matter the sudden and rapid expansion that kept the eyes of their class wide in fear and confusion, neither of the balloons were aware that anything had changed. Even as they began to brush against one another, standing feet apart, bellies brushing at the crest as their supreme sizes fought for dominance at the head of the classroom, all their students could do was stare. “So… any questions?” Jennifer wheezed “Aye, ask them now.” Maria gasped, “There will be a test next week, girls!” And all at once, every hand in the room shot up like rockets. Nobody had seen Rachel Elver’s tragic fall coming. Weighing over five hundred pounds, it was hard for her to get around as it was. She hardly left her room and had grown unaccustomed to the layout. She had been texting, waddling down the hall, when she’d fallen down the stairs. At such an inordinately high weight, falling through the stairs was a much more accurate description. The poor girl was dead before she hit the ground. It had come as a shock to everyone. Death was always tragic, especially in the case of someone as cheerful and helpful as Rachel was. That being said, this was high school. And high schoolers did stupid things like play with Ouija boards. Ever since they’d done that hokey séance, Megan had been acting funny. Sleep walking, of all things. Considering she barely walked when she was awake, the fact that she was waking up in the middle of the night to toddle around the dorm room was a bit unbelievable. Her heavy footsteps could be heard in the wee hours of the morning, her chubby feet loud against the hardwood floors. She hadn’t been sleeping well, and she’d been so distant… which had been why they’d thrown their little get-together in the first place. Ronnie had stayed over that night—crashing in Megan’s bed (she hardly used it, preferring to sleep on the couch) when she had witnessed it first hand. At first it was cute! She could hear Megan’s sleepy mumbling from the living room. But as the whole dorm began to grow cold, and she hadn’t heard her friend sit back {i]down after what felt like an hour, she decided to investigate. “Mmm…orp…” Megan’s voice was thick and husky as she stuck herself in head-first into he fridge, grabbing cakes and pies and pastires… anything and everything that Ronnie had brought over for the night’s events. “More…” Watching her eat, her face dazed and stupid, Ronnie laughed a little. No wonder her friend had been putting on so much weight! It must have been the stress of her midterms that was doing it. What a relief! But in the corner of her eye, Ronnie could see… something. A shape. Large and dark. Imposingly so, with a heavy presence. When she looked directly at it, it seemed to fade away. But somehow, a knot formed in the pit of Ronnie’s stomach. Feeling suddenly very uncomfortable with her friend’s dorm room at night, Ronnie shrunk back into the bedroom, content to leave Megan to her sleep eating. Good. Tears rolled down’s Megan’s freckled cheeks as her friend retreated. A low whine, muffled by yet another brownie, made her chest heave as she fought back a sob. Her stomach groaned in agony, dragging across the bottom of the fridge painfully. A familiar, unwelcome pressure pushed itself against her back, pinning her down as her hands moved in a will of their own. There’s still so much more I want to try. Ever since she had come to Buttercombe Academy, Cerys Porter had been getting fat. Her family’s genetic predisposition towards what medical professionals were now calling “hyper obesity” were worrisome enough. The thought of winding up like her mother, literally pinned down underneath her own fat, made her violently ill. However, Cerys was a naturally greedy girl. She loved food, and her time at an enabling preparatory school where many of her wants and needs were taken care of had left her self-control just as weak as she was getting. Desperate times called for desperate measures. “I don’t like this.” Violet shivered, clutching her heavy chest with two meaty arms, “Black people die in the woods, Cer!” “Only in horror movies. And only after the skinny nerd. And we don’t have lots of those around here, so you’re probably safe.” Cerys growled, “Put the candles up. Remember, five points.” There was a spell. A sort of “splitting” spell that separated whatever qualities one felt unnecessary. It had come from a really expensive book they’d bought on eBay, and Cerys was willing to try anything. Anything. And apparently that included Black Magic. As the sun set and the candles were lit, Cerys and Violet chanted the magic words as the older goth stood in the middle of the pentagram. An especially strong wind overtook the wooded area, autumn brown leaves rustling in the treetops as their ominous latin chanting seemed to fill the hollow. “Is it working?” Violet asked over the sound of the wind, “Cer?” “I-I don’t know…” Cerys panted, feeling faint, “I… I feel…” A hand placed itself on Cerys’s shoulder, fat and pink, with hard black fingers. Then another on the other side. Slowly, methodically, and painfully pushed itself from out of Cerys Porter. A behemoth of great size, outweighing the poor girl by two… three times her own body weight, slowly peeled away from the virgin. Climbing out from inside the smaller, frightened, screaming girl, the behemoth was panting hot breaths. “Oh fuck no” Violet had been running literally the second she saw the hand on Cerys’s shoulder. She had missed most of the Separation, leaving Cerys alone with her Other Half—a representation of the sloth, gluttony, and innate desire to feed herself made whole. “Rrnk!” the pig-faced woman’s cheeks rippled with her wheezing snorts, so round and fat that she could barely get her bearings on the uneven ground, “What… what ish thish…” Cerys could only watch in stunned silence as the beast, goat-legged, stumbled across the ground she was laying on. So exhausted from having herself torn in twain, she could barely keep her eyes open as the pig demon stumbled around awkwardly. She had thought that the spell would have done it metaphorically. She hadn’t wanted to gain weight but this… this was unbearable… “Oh fuck… ohhh fuck…” Cerys panted, her breathing shallow as she lay face-first on the leafy ground, “This… this was a bad idea…” |
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