The Power of Fantasy (WG, Magic) (1-11)

Re: The Power of Fantasy (WG, Magic) (1-11)

Postby buzzy » Tue May 29, 2012 7:20 pm

This is the last chapter I have. It awaits completion.

Ch 11

Adam was sitting back in an extremely comfortable armchair. In front of him was a vast array of screens, well more like windows really, that were capturing every moment of his little game. The competition had barely even started and he was already having a great time. He was watching everything at once but the sight of Anne lying prone on her bed, hovering between sleep and unconsciousness, with a belly too full for her to undo the button was holding most of his attention, not that Fiona's naked, wet form devouring a pizza wasn't equally delicious. Above the windows was a scoreboard. Currently it read:
Anne: +4.3lbs Fiona: +5.1lbs


He felt the disturbance before it happened. It was one of the senses he valued most since his change, an omnidirectional awareness of energy. He knew that Zoe was there, and he knew she was trying to sneak up on him.

"Hi Zoe." He didn't even turn around in his chair.

"Oh come on! I was completely silent, there is no way you could possibly know I was behind you. Did you give yourself the ability to see backwards or something?"

"No, I just knew you were there. Have you been to the bakery already?"

"Hardly. I'm standing in the queue at the moment. It's a long line, I guess the bakery really is pretty good."

"So what brings you here?"

"I'm bored obviously, queueing is boooorrrring. Although I wanted to ask, where are we exactly? I got this really weird feeling when I came in here."

"Interesting question. I actually don't know where we are. I created a sort of shared dream-space so that Fiona and Anne could be here together, so I guess we're in some sort of amalgamation of their subconscious."

"Right... So if we're in here, where's your body?"

"Huh?"

"Well my body is still in the bakery, I can see the guy at the counter staring past the little old lady buying bread rolls right at my cleavage."

"One can hardly blame him."

"Shush. Anyway, I'm there, but I'm also sort of in here, so I suppose some part of my mind is in here with you. But when I looked for you outside I couldn't find you. The two girls were sitting on a bench asleep but you were nowhere. Are you actually inside this place?"

"Yeah, why?"

"How?"

"What do you mean how? I wanted to be in here, so I am."

"It took practically all my concentration just to get my mind in here. I'm having to focus really hard to maintain a connection, or whatever it is, to this... this dreamscape? It's not the same for you?"

"No, I'm not having to maintain anything that I'm aware of. Maybe it's because I made it."

"I don't know. Anyway, what have you done to the two girls anyway?"

Adam explained the game at some length including the rules and how he had gotten each of them to play along. Zoe just stared at him in stunned silence throughout.

"How long has this been going on?"

"We reached the 68 hour mark just about when you arrived."

"You've been in here for three days? How...? You know what, nevermind I wouldn't understand it anyway. But three days? And you said this was going on for two weeks? Is this something you've done before?"

"Kind of, in bits and pieces. I don't know why you're getting so worked up about it. It's not like I can't just speed up things if I get bored."

"What? Now you're manipulating time!"

"No, of course not, just dream time. I can experience it as fast or as slow as I want to, let me show you. I'll fast-forward through a few hours, keep your eyes on the windows, you'll see everything happen really quick."

With that Adam sped everything up, watching with amusement as Fiona climbed out of the bath and towelled off. She always liked to poke and prod her belly after a stuffing and yesterday she had started jumping up and down to see her breasts jiggle. After getting dressed again she went to the table and loaded up on some key lime pie and a plate of brownies before going to her bed to gorge herself a little more. Anne meanwhile spent most of the time sleeping, one hand resting on her rounded middle which rose and fell as she breathed. The constant movement caused her top to ride up and expose a large smooth expanse of lightly tanned flesh. When she did wake up she went straight for the plate of cupcakes by her bedside, devouring a dozen of them in less than ten minutes. The girl certainly had an appetite.

Returning the flow of time to its usual pace Adam turned round to find Zoe had vanished. She appeared a moment later, out of breath and clutching her head in her hand, bent over at the knees. Adam was reminded somewhat of Isabelle when she and Zoe had returned from their morning run.

"What the hell was that?" She seemed genuinely pained and Adam rushed over to try and get a better look at her head.

"Are you alright?"

"No I'm not alright! I feel like my brain just got kicked in. I was looking at the screens, like you said, and then there was this rush of multicoloured light and a deafening roar in my head, everything went black, and then I lost the connection with this place and had to fight my way back in. What the hell happened?"

"I'm not sure... Look I'm really sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

"No. No I'm fine really, just a little shocked. It wasn't your fault, it's not like you knew that was going to happen. Anyway, staying here is giving me a bit of headache so I'll leave you to it. See you in a bit."

"Okay."

And with that Zoe disappeared and Adam returned to his comfy chair, with a little more than the pair of beauties pigging out on endless quantities of fattening food to occupy his mind.

* * *


Anne was eating. Some time had passed since her failed attempt to bust the button from her pants, although in truth Anne had stopped caring about time. It could have been minutes or hours or days, it was probably days, but it didn't really matter to Anne. The situation was cruel. She was separated from the girl she loved, separated from everyone she knew, she was trapped and completely at the mercy of an incredibly powerful... something. But it was only temporary. Knowing that it was all going to end and that there was nothing whatsoever that Anne could do before that appointed time allowed her to reach a quiet equanimity with regards to her fate which in turn enabled her to focus on more important matters. Sic the decadently chocolatey and dauntingly large mousse that she was gleefully gorging on. Light as air and smoother than silk the dessert was perfect to the last detail. Anne's only gripe, and it was a small concern compared to the perfection before her, was that it felt like the thousandth dessert she had eaten since she arrived. Sweets had always been a passion for her, all the way back to when she was just a little girl and her doting father would slip her a cookie under the table when her mother wasn't looking. But even she, self-proclaimed glutton and unabashed devourer of sugar that she was, had to admit that there was a limit even to her endless appetite for puddings. That was when something happened that Anne was completely unprepared for: her giant bowl of mousse transformed into a tray of hotdogs.

Stunned by this sudden course of events it took Anne several minutes to process what had just happened. She had actually been thinking about hotdogs. Remembering all those times her dad had snuck her cookies had made her think back to all the baseball games he had taken her and her brother to over the years. Her brother, Charlie, was a big fan, as was her dad, but she'd never really understood their fascination with the game. The concession stand on the other hand was something she was all in favour of and foot-long hot dogs layered in tomato sauce, mustard, and onions were her favourite treat at the ball park. Now there were a dozen of them sitting right in front of her. Obviously something weird was going on but a gentle growl from her stomach reminded her that she hadn't put anything new in it for several minutes. It wasn't like she was hungry or anything but she'd been building up a pretty good rhythm by the time she had got to the mousse and she was really looking to get to that stuffed nirvana that made her feel so deliriously content. Three hot dogs disappeared with the seasoned skill of a girl both well-practiced and possessed of an appetite that could put a sumo wrestler to shame. The hot dogs were a wonderful change of pace, just as breathtaking as everything else she had eaten but the savoury flavours seemed to cleanse her palate, leaving it fresh and ready for her next delight. While munching through hot dogs four and five, taking these at a more leisurely speed, Anne took some time to try and work out what had happened. For as long as she had been in the room with the table full of food she had not seen a single hot dog, of that she was sure. Why then had a whole tray of them materialised in front of her? Was it really as simple as her thinking about it? It seemed too strange to be a coincidence and yet too ridiculous to believe that the room was responding to her thoughts. Still, it wasn't as if it was hard to test. Anne held out an empty hand, screwed her eyes shut and with all the concentration she could muster said:

"Twinkie."

When she opened her eyes there was a little, pale yellow sponge cake sitting in her palm. Anne gobbled it down in two swift mouthfuls. There was a spark burning in her eyes now. An ecstatic feeling of joy and limitless possibilities brought on by her new discovery. This was going to be good.

* * *


Fiona was seated at the table, several enormous trays of éclairs gathered around her. Everything was ready. Fiona wanted to test herself, wanted to see how much she could eat in one sitting. She had just woken up so she was as hungry as she ever was in a place where she ate almost ceaselessly. She had collected over fifty éclairs, far more than she would ever be able to eat, and now she was waiting. Waiting until the intoxicating aroma of chocolate and pastry and cream had her entire body screaming for a taste. Waiting until she was physically incapable of holding out any longer. It didn't take long.

Éclair number one was gone in a flurry of gnashing teeth and flying flecks of cream. In the time she had been there Fiona had never once found the éclairs to be less than perfect, like an idealised abstraction of everything an éclair could be, and today was no different. Éclair number two, number three, number four, Fiona showed no sign of flagging, number five, number six. Pause. Fiona leant back in the chair, panting slightly, a little out of breath. A dull thought flickered across her mind, wondering about calories and other unimportant things. It wasn't long before the desire to eat had driven the fleeting worry from her head. She resumed her eating at a more steady pace. No more mindless binging, just steady eating for as long as she could manage it. Number seven. Fiona could feel her belly mounding out beneath her t-shirt, she could see the outermost tip of her stomach just starting to creep from underneath the jutting shelf of her breasts. From past experience she knew that there would be a lot more belly to see by the time she was done. Number eight. Number nine. Number ten. Another brief pause, this time to readjust her wardrobe. One of the more obvious facts that Fiona had gained first-hand experience of as her body got fatter: denim doesn't stretch well. Her jeans had been getting tighter and tighter as she gained, predominantly across the hips and around her butt. When combined with the bloated tummy she was sculpting Fiona knew that, however much it still revolted her, popping the button was a necessary evil. The button undone Fiona unconsciously relaxed her stomach a little. Peering over her cleavage she noted the slight glimpse of her jet-black thong disappearing underneath her belly but now was not the time to contemplate such matters. Number eleven. Number twelve. Fiona was lost to the food, flavour was all that mattered. She never heard the gentle clicks as her slowly growing stomach forced the zipper down, notch by notch. Number thirteen, a baker's dozen. Fiona was past full now, so much pastry sitting in her stomach and so much sugar coursing through her veins that her brain was slowing to crawl. Regardless, her mind could still focus on eating. Open, chew, swallow. Open, chew, swallow. Number fourteen. Number fifteen. Fiona could feel a tremendous pressure building up in her abdomen. A low rumble echoed around her as she clutched her stomach. Craning her head backwards Fiona let out window-shattering belch that opened up some more room. Number sixteen. Fiona looked down again. Crumbs littered her chest. With one finger she daintily scooped up a blob of cream that had fallen into her cleavage, languorously sucking the digit clean. Her belly was much more visible now, even past the mountainous protrusions she called her breasts. The t-shirt was riding up her stomach now, wrinkles forming as her burgeoning potbelly forced itself into the world. Half-delirious from sugar, Fiona gave her stomach a little jiggle. The stolid mass flopped back down heavily and Fiona let out an involuntary groan as the shifting lump of food stretched her tender flesh. Number seventeen. Fiona was reaching her limit, she could feel it. Her jaw ached, her stomach felt painfully stretched and her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. She just wasn't used to eating like this. Number eighteen. Maybe she could get to twenty, that would be a nice round number to end on. No, she couldn't think like that. It ended when she couldn't force another mouthful down her throat, not when she convinced herself she'd done enough. Number nineteen. Breathing shallow. Infrequent hiccups. Fiona's eyes were drifting closed. Had to keep going. She lifted number twenty to her mouth, barely even registering the taste anymore, just trying to eat. A great dollop of cream fell onto her left breast but Fiona didn't notice, didn't care. She nibbled at it but in the end it was too much, Fiona couldn't face another bite. She felt sick and bloated, the pressure in her abdomen seemed to be growing. She was done. Somehow she forced herself upright and tottered over to the nearest bed, she looked drunk. Her jeans felt tight, she couldn't get comfortable. She tried to pull them off but they were too snug. Bucking and writhing on the bed, moaning in pain as her stomach rocked from side to side, Fiona managed to peel the jeans over her hips and down the top of her thighs. Finally free she shook her legs like a madwoman until the jeans flew from her left foot into the air. Fiona was asleep before they hit the ground.

* * *


Anne had been reaching ever escalating heights of wanton gluttony since her marvellous discovery. At first she had thought that she would simply laze in bed and have her every whim appear in her hands to be quickly devoured but she had discovered that eating while lying down was rather uncomfortable, not to mention horribly messy. So instead she did as she always had: ate at the table until she couldn't see straight and then fell into bed to sleep it off. To be honest she hadn't even noticed that in all that time her pants remained permanently unbuttoned, securely wrapped around her protuberant posterior and tucked under her burgeoning lower belly. It was only when she went to put them back on after a bath that she had tried to do them back up. The zip didn't even get halfway before the bulbous mound of her food-packed yet squidgy stomach halted all progress. In a previous life, really just a matter of weeks ago, the sight of a great blob of fat bulging over the hem of her panties and stopping her from doing up her loosest pants would have terrified and appalled her, but her mindset had been so affected by her time in the dream-space that it registered more as an idle curiosity. She straightened up to her full height, sucked in her belly and yanked the zipper. It still didn't get much past two thirds of the way up and her pudge was still resolutely poking through the large V between the two opposing flaps, button and hole miles apart. After several more seconds of strenuous tugging Anne released her pent up breath and her tubby middle quickly returned to its natural state, all her hard-won progress with the zipper immediately lost under the assault. Some of Anne's old fears started rearing their ugly heads, little voices telling her she'd been eating too much, that she was outgrowing her clothes, that no one would ever love a whale. The voices didn't get much traction, being fat was a temporary thing, but they did instil a certain resolve in Anne, an irrational determination to button her pants. After all, she'd been letting go and eating to her heart's desire for less than a fortnight, she couldn't really have completely outgrown her most spacious and forgiving trousers, could she? So Anne tried again. Stand up straight, deep breath and.... pull. The zipper got a little higher this time but it was still far from the top. Her d**ned tummy refused to be sucked in any more no matter how much she tried. Seizing a flap in each hand Anne began tugging furiously, trying to bring button and hole together. If she could do that she would be able to fix the zipper she was sure of it. Anne was having trouble holding her breath, she couldn't keep her stomach sucked in for much longer. She gave the flaps one final explosive heave and... success! Button and hole reunited.

"Huh."

This was a rather unusual 'Huh', though it was also very normal in a number of ways. There was nothing mysterious about the inflection, a typical mixture of interest and surprise, and there were no secrets behind the accent or the person who had spoken. It was what had prompted the 'Huh' that was so strange, not because it was a particularly rare or unexpected occurrence but because, of all conceivable reactions a person might have to their fat ass splitting a pair of pants 'Huh' was just not a very likely one to hear.

That was of course what had happened. Anne's final attempt to button the pants had caused so much pressure to build across her undulating backside that they had split cleanly right down the middle, exposing her panties to the warm air around her. Anne was aware of this the moment the seams ripped, though she didn't hear it happen, she just felt the tension ease off some, though there was still significant and unpleasant pinching around her waist. Shimmying out of them proved a relatively simple task compared to putting them on. An examination revealed a four inch tear, the threads were stretched into ragged lines and several of the remaining stitches looked so abused that Anne actually felt sorry for them.

"Oh well," Anne said, tossing the pants onto the floor and heading for the table, there was still plenty of food to eat. Maybe... burgers.

* * *

Fiona was enjoying a long, hot, soak in the tub. She loved the feeling of water ebbing and flowing around her breasts, loved the feeling of weightlessness that floating gave her. It was just so much more peaceful to not be continually confronted by her escalating weight. After her éclair binge she had woken up feeling unusually hungry and so she had grabbed several large platters piled high with food and retreated to her bath. It was there that she had finally made the same discovery as Anne, that food would appear in front of her if she wanted it to, and as such she had been in the bath for an extremely long time. The water never cooled, her skin never wrinkled, she could simply bask in the heat and the comfort, eating all the while. Right now it was pizza, lovely, deep-dish, extra-cheesy pizza, and Fiona was already on her sixth massive slice but earlier there had been some ice-cream, a nice slice of lemon cake, a plate of cookies, and more than one éclair. It bothered Fiona more than she would admit to see her belly always stuffed full, bulging beneath her breasts like a soccer ball when she really overdid it. Worse still was the more recent softness that she had found around her navel and above her hips. Big boobs and a round ass were one thing but a fat stomach? That wasn't something Fiona was ever going to be comfortable with.

As relaxing as the bath was Fiona knew that all things must come to an end. It felt like she'd been in the bath for days and, even for her, that was pushing it. Getting out of the bath was never as pleasurable as getting in. Admittedly in the strange room the air was always warm and even though the floor was tiled she never felt cold. Still the act of hauling herself out of the bath made her feel heavier than she was, or perhaps she was just feeling her true weight. Clambering out of the bath, rivulets of water streaming down her chest, her naked body nearly glowing pink from the scalding bath, Fiona was acutely aware of the extra flesh front and back swaying as she moved, not to mention the unpleasantly familiar feeling of her engorged stomach being dragged down by gravity. Knowing the reality couldn't possibly be worse than how she felt Fiona stepped in front of the mirror, eyes scrunched shut, and braced herself for the unbridled horror that awaited her.

It was worse than she'd feared. She looked enormous, like some grotesque caricature of her former gorgeous self. Fiona's eyes widened as she took it in, that great, pale orb that drew her gaze. Her navel was like a black hole, capturing all the light around it and preventing her from looking anywhere else but her revolting belly as it stuck out proudly, mocking every effort she had ever made to be thin and sexy. She hadn't seen the sun in days and her colour reflected it. The white light and white tiles only made things worse. It was completely smooth. A great dark shadow under the overhang of the repugnant protuberance made it look even larger. Rubbing her hands around it Fiona couldn't truly believe that it was really a part of her. Tears started to well up in her eyes as she pictured the reactions of her friends and family if they saw her in this state. And Anne, good god what would Anne say after all the times she'd panicked over gaining 5lbs? How could she possibly want a girlfriend who looked like she'd gained fifty? A part of her hated herself for being so pathetic. Her weight gain was deliberate, desirable in a really messed up way. She'd just never imagined such an enormous, smooth ball of flesh where her lightly toned abs used to be. Smooth... That was when it hit her, she didn't look fat, she looked pregnant.

"Food baby," she murmured to herself. It was the first time she had ever heard or uttered the phrase but it had an inexplicable familiarity to it.

She tried to pinch the fat around her middle. It was there to be certain but it was nothing compared to the actual size of her stomach. Now that she was paying attention she could really feel just how full she was. She'd never felt like this in her life, no wonder she looked like a blimp. Finally able to drag her eyes away from her stomach Fiona was able to get a proper look at her actual body. Her breasts were certainly something. She'd been a busty girl her entire life but she'd never seen melons like hers before. She wasn't exactly a great judge on sizes but she had to be up to an E cup easily. Excited now she hurried over to the neat pile of clothes folded over the back of a chair. She grabbed the bra and carefully threaded her arms through the straps and began the delicate job of nestling her engorged breasts into the cups even though it was immediately obvious that the D-cup bra was woefully inadequate. Breasts as secure as could be hoped Fiona contorted her arms to reach for the straps and began to pull them together. The tension built up almost immediately, she could feel her breasts being squished together, practically fighting to escape, and the hooks weren't even near each other. Her sports bra, an item of clothing she maintained was designed solely for the torture of women, was more comfortable than this. Eventually she got the bra hooked and went back to the mirror. Her breasts were oozing out of the bra from every available nook and cranny, looking down she was confronted by a frankly stunning cleavage that made her a little hot under the collar. Seized by a mischievous impulse she arched her back, stretching her arms out behind her, trying to put as much strain as possible on the bra. With an immensely satisfying *ping* the hooks gave way and the ruined garment flew from her chest leaving her deliciously perky breasts free to the open air, bouncing with joy.

When she had eventually considered her wondrous breasts from every conceivable angle in every conceivable pose she let her hands wander down the rest of her body. Hips were definitely a lot wider, and much more cushiony than she remembered. They had actually grown so much wider that she fancied that her hips-to-waist ratio had actually gotten more dramatic than when she was slim. That said she wasn't sure how she liked the way her hips jiggled when she shifted position, it made her look really fat, and the significant gain in thigh meat that accompanied her more hippy look was downright disturbing. Her legs used to be sleek, long, and toned but now they were creamy soft. Her years of exercise had allowed her to maintain a degree of supple firmness to her legs but they still wobbled in an unnerving manner when she stomped her feet. She had to admit though, the dramatic tapering to her still extremely slender calves and dainty feet did create a rather lovely effect. Her rump, the area that she knew Anne worried about most, looked equally alien to her. It wasn't the same shape as Anne's, hers tended to bulge out into a bubble whereas Fiona's had spread a little more with the width of her hips and formed an undeniably heart-shaped if inexcusably wobbly ass. Fiona was spellbound for several minutes just slapping her fatted cheeks until she could see bright red hand-marks. The undulating flesh was just so...not her body. A part of it sickened her but she wasn't sure if it was because she found it ugly or because she simply rebelled to any changes in her physique. After all, she was rather fond of Anne's derrière and she'd certainly never thought that the extra weight Anne tended to carry there did it any harm, quite the opposite to be honest. So why was the same not true for her? This was impossible. She needed to know what she actually looked like. The sight of her stomach, that great bulbous blemish on her body, coupled with all the added wiggling and jiggling across everywhere else set her teeth on edge. The thought of eating more food, of getting fatter still, was unimaginable. She knew that if she didn't eat she'd definitely wind up fatter, a lot fatter knowing Anne's appetite, but even knowing this she just couldn't bring herself to go to the table and eat more food. She had to know whether getting fat was something she could live with, she couldn't get the idea out of her head. And so there was nothing for it, she would have to stop eating. Not for good of course, just long enough for the swelling in her stomach to go down. Then she could get a good look at herself in the mirror without her belly throwing off everything. If she was comfortable with what she saw then she could go back to eating, do her best to win and know that she could live with the consequences if she didn't. And if she couldn't accept being fat? Well she always did respond best when backed into a corner.
buzzy
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Re: The Power of Fantasy (WG, Magic) (1-11)

Postby Tornasunder » Tue May 29, 2012 7:24 pm

This is currently my favorite ongoing WG story. I had just found it on Bellylaughs when their account got suspended. Glad someone found it again. Is it still being added to?
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Re: The Power of Fantasy (WG, Magic) (1-11)

Postby buzzy » Tue May 29, 2012 7:39 pm

Last I saw, Mrak was planning to write more. I can only hope he finds us here.
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Re: The Power of Fantasy (WG, Magic) (1-11)

Postby buzzy » Tue Jun 11, 2013 4:08 am

buzzy
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