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.
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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

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

Postby venusderubens » Sat Jul 17, 2021 12:03 am

sorry for the necrothreading, but I have several more chapters of this story saved - I'm not sure on the exact count chapter wise, since I had it saved on a text file and just transferred to a word doc, but this point appears to be the midpoint of the story that was written. I'll go through and get the chapters I have organized and posted here as I can.
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Re: The Power of Fantasy (WG, Magic) (1-11)

Postby venusderubens » Tue Jul 20, 2021 4:02 pm

Chapter XII

"Arrrrrrrgggh!" Fiona screamed into her pillow. How had it all come to this? What on earth had happened to her life? It had sounded so simple: stop eating for a bit, let the food in her engorged belly digest, take a proper look at her body. Assess the damage so to speak. But, as the cartoon rabbit says, "Watch out for that first step, it's a lulu".

When had she become incapable of going without food for a couple of hours? She'd left the bath and her original inspections and gone straight to bed, eagerly anticipating waking up to find her belly in a more natural state and glad of the opportunity to sleep through the over-stuffed discomfort her binging had caused. Fiona didn't know how long she was asleep, but judging by how tight her stomach felt when she awoke it wasn't long. She was tired too, not desperate for sleep but she would have been quite happy to doze off again for a few more hours. Except she couldn't: she was too damn hungry. It was completely unreasonable, her stomach was full, still quite firm and tender to the touch. But she wanted food. Her body expected it, craved it... needed it. And now she had spent what felt like days trying to get back to sleep. Rolling over, rearranging the covers, flipping the pillow, she'd tried it all but gnawing hunger was all-consuming. Fiona didn't care though, she wasn't going to flake. She'd made a decision and when she decided something that was it, there was no further need for debate. She'd been forcing herself to eat beyond her limits for days, now she would just force herself not to. This was beyond any petty vain desire to appraise her looks. Fiona knew that this was part of the game. That sick bastard probably loved the thought of her being unable to control herself, of her completely surrendering all freewill. The whole thing about eating made no sense to her, nor the idea of getting fat, but she was certain now that this was about more than either of those things. For whatever reason, and it sickened her to even think it, but her tormentor was getting off on this.

The worst part was that she knew he was winning. She'd convinced herself of the necessity to stop eating for the sake of self-inspection. A part of her knew how stupid that really was but the petulant inner child liked the defiance. But when that excuse was gone she would have to eat. She would have to give in to her cravings. In fact, if she was realistically going to have any hope she was going to have force herself far beyond just sating her hunger. It wasn't going to be easy but it was a small capitulation compared to what she'd lose if she refused to eat. The rules of the game were burnt into her brain, every pound Anne gained more than her was an extra 2lbs in punishment. Giving up control of her hunger was one thing but giving up control of her body, moving beyond tubby or chubby and becoming genuinely fat, that wasn't something Fiona was ready to do. So much of her identity was locked into her appearance. Her confidence with friends and family and teachers, in small groups and huge parties. Being thin and gorgeous made her life easier, people wanted to please her, be around her, talk to her. And Anne... Fiona had always been the dominant personality in the relationship. Of course their coupling had lasted long enough now for some of Fiona's effervescence to rub off on her girlfriend. A happy, healthy, long-term thing had done wonders for Anne's confidence, everything from her upgraded wardrobe to trying out for the community theatre was due, in some part, to Fiona giving Anne a little nudge off the ledge. But if she was fat? Would Anne take charge? That wasn't such a bad thought, exciting even, but what if neither of them took charge? What if neither of them had the drive, the somewhat egotistical insanity that made their relationship so exhilarating so much of the time?

Fiona was interrupted from her deep musings by a truly cacophonous gurgling from her stomach. She could actually hear it echoing down the hallway. She'd been wrong. Adam wasn't winning, he'd already won. Eat or not eat, it made no difference, he got what he wanted regardless. A wave of hopelessness and nihilistic resignation surrounded Fiona, washing away any illusions of control she had held onto. There was nothing left to do really but what he wanted. That was the point of course. Like a magician at some cheesy stage show who offers you a choice of cards but no matter what you choose you always end up taking the one he wants. Another low gurgle in her stomach. The thought of eating was so tempting, and there was no reason to deny herself anymore, there never was a reason in the first place. Glancing over at the table Fiona could see a platter of éclairs.

"Fuck it."

She rolled out of bed and remembered for the first time that she was practically naked. After busting her bra the previous night she'd shimmied her way into her panties but, after almost snapping them over her now dangerously curvy hips, hadn't felt inclined to battle with her tight denim jeans, especially on a full stomach. As for the top, Fiona couldn't remember seeing it since her gigantic éclair binge. So now, here she was, completely topless with an ass that felt like it was swallowing what little remained of her clothes. The jeans were still in the bathroom but there was no chance of them fitting. Fiona had once watched her elder sister trying to cram her oversized body into some undersized pants after her first semester at college, a roll of fat building up on each thigh as she forced the unforgiving cotton up her legs. Fiona shuddered at the thought of enduring the same. She tried to remember where the top might have been, but she'd wandered up and down the table so much as she ate that she'd never have a hope of finding it. Looking down at her massively enhanced bust she wasn't so sure the top would be a particularly comfortable fit anyway, she definitely recalled the neckline looking stretched the last time she'd seen it. Outgrowing her clothes: The latest victory for her captor. That's when she had an idea, a wonderful idea that made her entire body quiver with anticipation. Finally, a way that she could fight back.

She dashed over to the table, one hand protectively restricting her breasts, and grabbed a knife. Jogging back to the bed, ignoring the feeling of her thighs brushing together, she stripped the cover off the duvet and held it up. It was only a single bed but the material was still a lot wider than she needed, then again loose clothing had its benefits. The length on the other hand was definitely wrong. Taking the knife she cut off the bottom two feet of material, the ends were frayed and ragged but it didn't matter much. Cutting a few holes at the top of the sheet she was able to stick her head and arms through and take a look at the first pass on her new couture. It was a formless white blob. Going back to the table she found a couple of forks and, using the knife, another fork, a bench and a great deal of brute force succeeded in bending off the prongs until she had an even dozen. She folded the material at the bottom of the skirt up until was a just below the knee, holding it in place with some of the prongs. Then, using the knife she set about cutting a décolletage out of the gash she had ripped for her head. In the end the neckline was a little more plunging than she had planned but the sight of her large, still pert breasts framed by the white bed sheet brought a smile to her face. After a little careful folding and using some of the remaining pins Fiona was even able to smooth the lines. She then returned to the discarded excess. She cut a 6 inch loop from the remaining material and then cut it down the middle to create a long strip of fabric. Pulling the dress over her head, shuddering as the silken smooth cloth brushed over her nipples, she set about fashioning a crude form of support for her breasts by looping the strip behind her and then tying a knot in the fabric at the crest of her bosom. Donning her sheet-dress once more she went to the bathroom to get a proper look at herself. While her various adjustments had certainly improved the overall shape it still looked a lot like a box. Pinning some of the excess material around her shoulders behind her went somewhat to improving the flow but even then it wasn't the look she was going for. The answer came like a bolt of lightning and she shot back out to the remaining fabric and once again fashioned a long strip of material, this one somewhat thicker than that which now cupped her breasts. This last strip she tied quite tightly just beneath her chest, pulling in the material to create an empire waist that both added shape and would exert the barest minimum of pressure on her stomach when she had eaten too much. After a brief fashion parade in front of the mirror during which Fiona was unable to stop herself from mimicking the famous Marilyn Monroe pose from The Seven Year Itch she returned to the table, ready to re-enter the fray.

Hhnngh

While Fiona was busy living her own version of the Paris Fashion Week Anne was engaged in a rather more strenuous struggle. Unlike Fiona her growth had not yet caused a complete wardrobe malfunction. Excepting the pants that had been more than overmatched by the potent combination of bigger butt, thicker middle, and fatted thigh her attire was faring remarkably well. Though certainly erring on the small side the bra still fit well enough, her top too was a comfortable fit so long as she had no pretensions of it actually covering her belly. Underwear was, naturally, a more problematic area but aside from a persistent wedgie and the need to occasionally readjust her bloated tummy to avoid snapping the waistband all was going better than might be expected. Instead Anne's attentions had been focused solely on one thing: eating. Her mind had moved beyond thoughts of victimisation or resentment some time ago, reality was what it was. Not that what was happening seemed all that real of course. The opportunity to truly enjoy eating with no stigma and no consequences had been pushing her to greater and greater feats of extravagant gluttony. As her eating spiralled further and further out of control her mind grew ever more obsessed with exploring her limits. Every time she awoke from a binge-induced coma she felt hungrier and hungrier and sought more and more ways to expand on what she had already tried.

Hhnngh

Which was what had led to her latest idea. She had woken with a desire for something sweet, and the sight and smell of chocolate on the table had set her taste buds alight at the thought of creamy, smooth cocoa. But simply eating a chocolate cake or a plate of cookies or a dozen family sized bars simply didn't have the edge she was looking for. She had sat at the table, nibbling on a slice of chocolate truffle torte, trying to think of a new idea but it wasn't until she lay supine on the bench that she finally had her revelation. Screwing her eyes tight in concentration she had focused as hard as she could and wished for a keg of liquid chocolate.

Hhnngh

Which brought her to her current situation, trying to lift an enormous metal drum filled with a dense, viscous liquid onto the platform she had made with a couple of benches. It was unbelievably heavy and awkward to move, her arms could barely reach round the container, every time she tried to lift it she could feel her breasts and stomach squishing into the cool metal. She knew in hindsight that she should have asked for the barrel to already be set up for her but she didn't want to ask again, it just felt wasteful. Eventually she had the keg upside down on the benches and a hose (which had simply appeared in her hand) attached to the valve. She grabbed a couple of pillows from the bed and used them to prop up her head slightly as she took up her position underneath the keg so that she was almost lying across a couch, put the hose in her mouth and turned the valve.

The result was somewhat less than dramatic. The viscosity of the liquid combined with the relatively small aperture provided by the hose did not exactly have the delectable chocolate streaming down to her eager mouth. Instead Anne watched with some impatience as the brown goo crept down the tube millimetre by agonising millimetre. A few seconds was about all she could manage before she'd had enough of waiting. Eager to get things started she began sucking furiously on her end of the hose, each drag pulling the chocolate closer and closer. By the time the chocolate was halfway there her cheeks were sore and she was out of air but it didn't matter, the chocolate was picking up speed. She had just enough time to catch her breath before the chocolate hit and her entire mouth exploded in ecstasy. She swallowed greedily, now that the flow had reached her the chocolate came in a ceaseless stream of increasingly stratospheric delight. She could already feel her mind slipping away under the deluge of taste and the warm, comfortable feeling of her empty stomach filling up. It was transcendent. Even as she began to lose herself to the soothing repetition of savouring and swallowing she retained the presence of mind to grab one of the whipped cream cans that she had also asked for. The valve for the keg she had envisioned had a secondary input point that perfectly accommodated the can's nozzle, as she had always planned. Pressing the button briefly she injected a short stream of white into the smooth brown. Eyes widening in anticipation she watched as the cream mixed into the chocolate on its way down, striations of white glimmering through the tube, until the cream finally hit and her mind practically collapsed in on itself at the intense rush of sweet flavours, contrasting textures and the growing sensation from her ever-filling stomach. Over the next few minutes she forced cream into the tube at regular intervals, revelling in the variations her plan had allowed for. Barely aware of what she was doing she thought of an aerosol can of caramel, not even caring that such a thing didn't exist, and no sooner had she thought it than it was in her hand and she was adding a new flavour to the mix. In the midst of her hedonistic haze it took Anne's mind quite a bit longer than it should have to realise that the chocolate was coming faster and faster and she was having to swallow larger and larger portions of the sickly sweet concoction. The chocolate had been slow to move at first but it had been building momentum every second that ticked by, and now that Anne was almost continually augmenting her meal with injections of cream and caramel (she'd started using a second input valve that had materialised out of nowhere without her even noticing) she was finding it increasingly difficult to take the time to breathe. But oxygen was a secondary concern. The taste and the fullness and the unrestrained extravagance were what mattered most. The liquid was filling up every inch of her. She could feel the pressure building slowly in her stomach as her cheeks began to puff out under the continued rush of calories. The cans never seemed to empty even as tiny dribbles of chocolate began to squeeze past her pink lips and roll down her chin. Anne could feel the pleasurable fullness in her belly graduating to the familiar pain of her stomach stretching to accept her latest trial but this discomfort only heightened her desire to eat more, to push herself past any limits she had left. Looking past the tube she could see her stomach swelling before her. Her top, which when her stomach was in its resting state usually sat a little way above the apex of her belly, was bunched up beneath her breasts. The flesh around her belly looked pale and strained, though in spite of the abuse it had suffered now and prior it remained free of marks and scars. Suffering the absence of the caramel injections for a few moments Anne took the time to prod her stomach gently, testing its capacity. The pain was building all the time, occasional twinges caused her eyes to water though her expression never faded from a beatific joy. There was a satisfying lack of give in the pudge that ringed her tummy, stretched so tightly now that even the soft fat she had so long feared and now so lovingly cultivated was becoming hard. As her vision started to blur and the act of keeping her arms aloft to hold the cans became too much to bear Anne dropped them to the floor and turned off the valve, still eagerly gobbling down the last remnants of her meal. A warm glow seemed to radiate from her entire being, her face was beautifully adorned with a dazzling smile and small lines of chocolate laced with cream. Incapable of moving, utterly disinterested in even attempting to do so, Anne let her eyes drift shut as her hands gently massaged the towering mass of food and blubber she had created. Her smile only grew wider as she fell asleep.

High up in his ivory tower Adam was still only partially paying attention to tribulations of his two latest victims. He was watching everything, not a single morsel of food, fleeting thought, or tired sigh escaped his notice. And yet this did not require his full focus. A part of his mind was watching Anne and Fiona play the game and the rest was... thinking about everything else. His most recurring thought: How was he thinking about something else? He understood the human brain better than most, the brain only processes a certain amount of information at a time, that's why people miss little details in just about everything they see and do, and yet that didn't seem to apply to him. Or at least, it didn't seem to apply to him here, he was still undecided as to whether this trait was caused by his location or if he himself was actually changing. For that matter he wasn't sure what the changes were. Or if they were finished. Or slowing to a stop. Or speeding to... who knew? He still felt like himself. All of his memories were still there. In fact, running through his past in his head he was amazed at the level of detail he could recall, it was almost like being able to watch a DVD of every moment in his life. But even though he was himself, he was still not the same. He'd been inside the dreamscape for nearly a fortnight. He hadn't eaten or slept since he'd arrive. For that matter he hadn't even spoken to another person since Zoe's brief visit and yet he didn't feel lonely or isolated, as though it was completely normal to be cut-off from the rest of humanity for weeks at a time. If that was the case, was he really still human?

Thinking wasn't getting him anywhere though and so Adam pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind and tried to lose himself in the spectacle before him. It had been an extraordinary event. A success beyond what he'd first imagined. Both girls had embraced their new lifestyles and were routinely stuffing themselves to, and frequently past, their limits. Fiona was competitive, driven, determined to win and willing to put the effort in to do it. Anne was a natural eater, a wanton glutton who had been hiding behind a veneer of dieting and social norms her entire life, unleashed like a force of nature. What was so remarkable though was that now, as they approached the final 48 hours, there was only a half a pound between their respective gains, with Anne holding that fractional lead. Logic dictated that in a long-term competition between two individuals the one with the greatest natural talent should win since, eventually, practice, perseverance and talent should win out over someone with just the first two. So either Fiona was a closet feedee, which Adam knew wasn't true, or she was one of the most stubborn-willed people Adam had ever encountered. And that was saying nothing of all the time she had wasted obsessing over her gain and her clothes and the ethics of what she was doing. Not that Anne hadn't wasted time at the beginning of course but nothing like as much as Fiona. Adam genuinely didn't know who was going to win, but he knew how it was going to end.

"Ladies," Adam's magically magnified voice boomed out of the walls of the girls' respective prisons. Anne, who had been fast asleep, jerked awake and banged her head into the steel keg still hanging above her before wincing as the sharp movement compressed the food in her stomach and gave her a second jolt of pain. Fiona, who was in the process of polishing off her third burger, nearly choked in surprise.

"You've both done extraordinarily well. You should both be proud of your efforts but now we are entering the final stretch. There are a mere 48 hours remaining in the competition. More interestingly I can reveal to you that the difference in your gains at this moment in time is a mere 0.5lbs. I'll be seeing you soon."

Adam couldn't help but laugh to himself as he watched the stunned looks on each of their faces. Both of them seemed to be frozen in shock, trying to process what they had just heard. Fiona recovered fastest, quickly cramming an enormous bite of cheeseburger into her mouth and chewing furiously. Anne was barely a second behind, turn the tap on the keg and rubbing her already abused stomach in preparation for what was to come. While waiting anxiously for the chocolate to make its slow progress down the hose she grabbed the can of whipped cream and fired it directly into her mouth, puffing out her cheeks like a chipmunk before taking one large swallow, an eye fixed on the flowing chocolate.

But Adam was impatient. After days and days of waiting and watching without giving a second thought to the time he was investing he was eager to get to the end, and so he elected to watch the last stage of the game at high speed. Fast-forwarding through dream time was an unusual experience. In a matter of milliseconds his brain witnessed hours of events fly by. They didn't blur, his mind just absorbed the information instantaneously and even though he'd only seen any one moment for a millionth of a second he knew everything that had happened, and he could even remember everything in true time, chronology intact. There were several highlights that stuck out as he waited for the last minutes to tick down.

Fiona barely slept during the entire thing, eating until she was so full that her belly was actually being restricted by her empire-waisted bed sheet dress and she'd had to loosen the knot. When she wasn't able to eat one more bite she would lie down on the bench, her next mouthful waiting in her hands, and nibble on it, crumb by crumb, until she'd digested enough food to attack it again. Adam knew that it had only been an hour after his announcement before her swollen stomach had been clearly visible over the top of her inflated breasts and it had stayed in view the entire time.

Anne had employed a somewhat different tactic, preferring as usual to gorge herself, sleep it off and start again. With the second wind she'd gotten from the adrenalin rush brought on by her proximity to the end she'd managed to polish off the remnants of the chocolate keg and then alternate between mouthfuls of caramel and mouthfuls of cream until her body was so full of sugar she'd actually fallen into a coma. From then on it was a non-stop orgy of food for Anne. Eating anything that her mind could envision: a chocolate cake as tall as she was and twice again as wide; plates of waffles stacked so high that the syrup running down them looked like caramel coloured waterfalls; bowls of pasta loaded with bacon and mushrooms and twenty different types of cheese. Anne ate from everything, indiscriminately and passionately, Adam couldn't remember seeing anything like it in his life.

Soon though Adam was ready to call time. Once again his booming voice rang out through the hallways:

"5..." both girls eyes widened in terror, "4..." Fiona had stopped eating, "3..." Anne hadn't, "2..." both girls closed their eyes.

And opened them again to find themselves in the same office they had stood in all those weeks ago. Sitting behind the desk in a large swivel-backed chair was Adam, hands together in the finger pyramid of evil contemplation, smiling broadly at his two guests.

"Welcome back girls. Did you enjoy yourselves?"

Neither girl seemed inclined to answer. Neither seemed that interested in Adam either, both were too busy hugging and kissing each other, tears of joy streaming down their faces. When they pulled apart they couldn't help but appraise each other. Anne, dressed only in a too small shirt bunched up beneath her bra and a pair of panties almost fully occluded by her gargantuan buttocks. Her stomach inflated into a semi-spherical bulge that hung over the hem as if in sympathy to the colossal twin orbs, each of which looked to have doubled in size since she'd arrived, that jutted out behind her to form an enticing bubble. Fiona, still wearing her dress which downplayed much of her gain. All that was really evident was the remarkable amplification of her pre-existing curves: the enormous breasts, practically F cup by now, stuck out proudly in her makeshift bra and spread sideways past her arms to give her the silhouette of a cartoon character. The dress was pulled somewhat tight across the softened curve of her now very rounded hips and around the swell of her equally wide but still gently outward-arching bum. A hint of belly could be seen in the excess fabric bunched around out front, but it was impossible to see the other changes, like the love-handles she now wore or the tiny sliver of air that could still be seen between her luscious thighs before they tapered down her slender calves. The rest of her exposed body, face, arms, fingers and toes were practically unchanged. Cheeks were less hollow, chin slightly less angular but still a long way from the double-chin that was already a half-hidden fixture of Anne's much more cherubic face. Arms had lost tone and gained some wobble but youth preserved her skin's natural firmness and made Fiona look halfway towards some ancient fertility goddess.

"It is time for the final weigh-in. You'll notice that the food you had recently eaten has been automatically digested for you and those extra pounds added to your frames."

Fiona was scowling at him now, Anne actually seemed to be looking around for something to eat.

"To see who goes first we'll need to flip a coin," one appeared in Adam's hand instantly, "One of you call it in the air if you please."

Both girls remained silent as the coin flew into the air, spinning rapidly end over end. When neither girl made a call Adam left the coin spinning and reclined into his seat.

"I've got all the time in the world. The sooner you call, the sooner you leave. Unless you fancy another two weeks?"

"Heads!" was Fiona's instant response, and the coin fell into Adam's outstretched hand.

"Heads it is. Fiona you get to weigh in first."

At that a large set of scales, the type with the sliding weights usually found in gyms, materialised in the middle of the room. Fiona stepped towards the thing like it was some sort of medieval torture device, or a gallows. Tentatively she placed one foot on the plate *Clang*. The scales shifted and Fiona winced at the sound. Very carefully she moved all the weights to zero. Then, as timid as a mouse, slid the top weight to the 100lbs mark. Then, even more slowly than before, she began to inch the lower weight up the scale. 110. 120. 130. She got slower and slower until by the time she reached 134lbs she wasn't even moving it.

"Fair to say, Fiona, that you weigh a little more now. You should be grateful, a girl nearly six feet tall weighing barely more than 130lbs? You're lucky you didn't get blown over in a strong wind."

Fiona just scowled again and resumed the slider's slow progress along the scale. Millimetre by millimetre, pound by pound she went on. Past 140, past 150. Her eyes were wide, pupils contracted down to pinpricks as she watched the slider, both hoping and dreading that it would balance soon. *Clang* *Bang* *Clang* The scale bounced violently as Fiona found her equilibrium.

"And the magic number is: 158lbs. Which I believe puts your gain at a very impressive 24lbs. Now Anne, if you would kindly step up?" Adam said, as the scale magically set itself back to zero.

"Fiona," Anne said quietly to her girlfriend as she passed, "Whatever happens, I love you, that's never gonna change."

"Me too," Fiona replied, squeezing Anne's hand with her own.

Anne stepped up to the scale with much less fear on her face than Fiona. She'd certainly had more experience with getting a bad reading. She moved the slider quickly past 110, 120, 130, 140, 150. Then slowing down. 153lbs. 155lbs. 156lbs. 157lbs. Fiona looked horror-struck. Did little Anne, barely 5' 5" in heels, weigh as much as her? 158lbs. The scale looked like it was on the cusp of balancing. 159lbs. *Bang* *Clang* *Bang*

"Anne, your weight is now 159lbs. Your gain is... 28lbs. Congratulations you've won."

Anne turned to look at her girlfriend, sorrow and apology etched on her face. The scales vanished from beneath her and Adam stood up from behind his desk.

"All of which means we have some adjustments to make. Anne, as reward for your victory, you are returned to your former weight."

"No! No I don't want to. Let Fiona be thin, I'll be fat, I'll take the penalty instead."

"Rules are rules. You won, you lose the weight."

With a click of his fingers and a blinding flash of light Anne was suddenly back to her original self. Even her clothes had been replaced. Her hands flew to every corner of her body, poking and prodding. The ass she had always thought so large felt tiny now, the little ring of softness around her waist felt like rock-hard abs after the bloated belly she'd grown accustomed to. Fiona looked on with a sense of grim resignation.

"And so we come to Fiona. You did exceptionally well and you've been a great addition to the game, but the time has come to pay the piper."

To Fiona's credit, her eyes were like steel.

"Beautiful though your dress is I think if we're going to see the full majesty we'll need to adjust your clothes a little."

Fiona's bed sheet disappeared, leaving Fiona in nothing but a pair of overtaxed panties stretched to near breaking point across her hips and the strip of fabric wrapped underneath her heaving bosom.

"Now, Anne beat you by 4lbs and she gained 28 in total, so you're owed another 36lbs. If it's any comfort, you'll still be a little way south of 200. Hold on."

Fiona's weight didn't change in an instant like Anne's, instead she just started to swell slowly as Anne watched on, mouth agape, and Fiona desperately clutched at her expanding flesh, as though trying to push it all back into her body. The first obvious change was her belly. When her clothes had vanished she had reflexively covered her stomach, unwilling to suffer the shame of having anyone, even Anne, see the horrendous mockery her once taut midriff had devolved to. Now little mounds of fat were pushing their way out through her splayed fingers, wrapping themselves around her arm. Her love-handles were growing too, spreading outwards as her hips widened, and becoming good handfuls of soft, wobbling pudge. Her panties were soon so strained that seams were popping everywhere but, somehow, they remained in place. Her breasts' growth was uncharacteristically restrained, until it wasn't. They underwent tremendous, stuttering growth spurts that set them rippling and jiggling inside the fabric. The strip rapidly reached its elastic limit and flesh was soon rising backwards in a wave of cleavage and forcefully overflowing the feeble confines. It only took a few of these sporadic bursts of expansion for her little strip to be completely subsumed and for the weight of her breasts to crush her bra entirely, leaving them to fall onto her newly acquired potbelly. Though still looking surprisingly pert no amount of youthful firmness could hold full G-cup breasts from surrendering to gravity, though her nipples still pointed defiantly to the sky and her breasts remained smooth and evenly toned, not a blemish to be seen. Her belly got larger and larger, still vastly outmatched by Fiona's gargantuan all-natural chest. Instead of spreading sideways with her hips as it had largely done before it began to push forwards to create a pliable ball of squishy flesh that swayed slightly as she twisted and turned, examining her changing body and when she breathed, the little ripples that ran across her gigantic breasts carried on down to her belly button.

When the transformation stopped Adam felt it prudent to give the girls a few minutes to acclimatize to the sudden changes. Fiona seemed at a loss for words, Anne seemed somewhat awed. It didn't take all that long though for Fiona to say:

"Right. Well you've had your sick fun, now send us home."

"Of course, but there is one more thing I'd like to discuss. A consolation prize for you Fiona, in light of your full-throated participation."

"I don't want anything from you. Let us out of here!"

"Careful, I'm trying to be nice here. You don't want to upset me now do you?"

There was crystal silence.

"My offer is this: first of all, a wardrobe update for you when you go back. You'll have clothes that fit, that you even like, and that will flatter your... ample curves. Secondly, I can make it so that no one thinks any less of you for being heavy. No one will mock you, all of your friends will still like you, your social life won't have to change in any way."

"And what's the catch?"

"No catch. I don't need to resort to such things. If I wanted to do something cruel, to play some kind of trick, then I'd just do it, I wouldn't ask your permission."

"And if I say no?"

"Well obviously I have to make some adjustments to your world when you go back, you can't suddenly get fatter with no explanation, that would raise far too many questions. But if you don't want what I'm offering you can be the social pariah dressed in clothes that barely fit you and make you look twice your actual size, if that's what you'd prefer"

"So those are my choices? Your way or I suffer."

"Your choices are my benevolent gift or the reality of your new situation. Take your pick."

"Fine. I'll take it."

"Excellent, now say thank you."

"What?"

"Politeness is important."

Fiona's face was screwed up in rage. Anne, who had been nestled against Fiona's soft side, arm draped across her shoulder, looked worried. In the end, she ground out the words through gritted teeth.

"Thank... You."

And just like that Anne and Fiona woke up on the bench.

"Anne?" Fiona said to her beautiful girlfriend, who was currently cuddled against her warm, soft body.

"Yeah Fi?"

"I'm hungry."

"You want to go to the bakery? Get some éclairs?"

"Best. Girlfriend. Ever."

And the two of them headed inside, hand in hand, just as Zoe was walking out.
venusderubens
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Re: The Power of Fantasy (WG, Magic) (1-11)

Postby venusderubens » Tue Jul 20, 2021 4:14 pm

Chapter XIII

Adam and Zoe were finally headed back home, Zoe carrying a box under one arm containing a decadently rich chocolate cake. Finding himself back in the real world Adam had almost instantly returned to normal, the concerns and considerations that had plagued him in the dreamscape seemed much less ominous in the soft glow of the sun over the ocean. In the back of his mind he knew he would have to face the issues eventually but he was on holiday, he was omnipotent, and there were at least two girls at home who needed dinner.

"Anyway," Adam said, "I wanted you to tell me about your parents' friends."

"Why?"

"I figured it would be a good idea to get your mother out of the house before we bring out the chocolate cake."

"Oh... right. Well..."

"Who do they go to the opera with?"

"The opera? How do you know my parents like the opera?"

"There's a photo on the mantelpiece, CDs by the stereo and a pair of opera glasses on the table by the door."

"Why do you know that?"

"Who do they go to the opera with?"

"Some people called Liz and Tom Shelton. I've never even met them, I've no idea where they live or what they look like."

Adam was too busy remotely scanning the house for a photo, and then the contacts list on the phone. A few short moments later and everything was sorted.

"Done."

"Done?"

"Yeah, they've got two extra tickets to Carmen, they're meeting your parents at a restaurant and then onto the show. They'll be gone for the night."

"You played a lot of chess as a child didn't you?"

"I still play now. Want a game when we get back?"

"I never learned."

"Excellent, want to play for money?"

"Oh ha ha. I think Julie plays."

"I figured."

"Of course you did."

They arrived home just as Zoe's parents were hurrying out the door.

"Oh good," Laura gushed sounding somewhat hurried, "There you are. We're going out to the opera, a last minute thing, can the four of you sort something out for dinner?"

"We'll be fine mum, have a good evening."

When they walked into the living room it was to see Julie channel-surfing on the sofa and Isabelle curled up with a book in the armchair. Zoe wasted no time in plonking herself down next to Julie, yawning and arching her back to emphasise her generous rack in what Adam knew was Zoe's expression of dominance. Adam meanwhile went to the kitchen to see what might be suitable for dinner. The plan was something light and healthy so that he would have a better chance of convincing Isabelle to have a bit of cake for dessert. Julie, he was sure, would be eating plenty. The kitchen was very bare, a stark contrast from the well-stocked cupboards Adam kept for his roommates, and Adam was beginning to worry that the only thing they could make was a salad. Eventually he managed to find some chicken breast, with a good selection of vegetables and a marsala sauce it would be serviceable, though they'd probably be hungry later. Given the cake he and Zoe had stashed in the fridge, that wasn't such a bad thing.

The evening was uneventful. Adam did get round to playing a few games of chess with Julie. At first he'd felt she wasn't putting up much of a game but he soon realised that, like so many other things in his life, chess was easier now than it had been. Even after months without a game he had no difficulty destroying Julie in their first match. Thereafter though he stayed his hand somewhat and tried to teach Julie rather than beat her. By the fourth game she seemed to be getting her eye in. After beginning with a slight variant on the Giuoco piano opening she'd made a coherent defence of the middle board but found herself frequently under threat of imminent death. Once or twice she was only saved by Adam raising an eyebrow as she made a move. Eventually though she reached the end of her rope and toppled her king.

"Pick it up," Adam said.

"Why bother. I'm dead."

"You're not dead, there's still hope."

"Of winning this? Are you looking at the same board? My Queen's pinned, I've got no knights. I can't win."

"True, you can't win, but you can do a lot better than lose."

"Play for stalemate? How?"

"Look harder."

And look harder she did. Five minutes passed in total silence, save for Zoe and Isabelle discussing the next fashion show, while Julie tried to bore a hole in the chessboard with her eyes.

"There's no play for stalemate, you're just having me on."

"Care to bet on that?"

"Yes," Julie responded vehemently, "There's no way."

"Okay, a bet then. Bragging rights?"

"Fine."

"Jules," Zoe interjected suddenly, "Don't bet, you'll lose."

"I'm fine Zoe, he's bluffing."

"Oh am I? Well then, how about we make it more interesting? I bet I can force stalemate in four moves. Winner chooses their prize after the fact, no limitations beyond law and common decency."

"Law and common decency? Does everyone talk like that in Cambridge?"

"No Jules, just him." Zoe was smiling now.

"You're on."


And with that Adam spun the board around and took his first turn.

Adam moved his Queen. "Check."

Zoe and Isabelle gathered around, eager to see what would happen.

Now looking thoroughly confused Julie took his Queen.

Adam moved his remaining Bishop. "Check."

Julie's pawn took his Bishop, still confused.

Adam revenged his Bishop with a pawn of his own.

Julie moved her Rook to guard against the pawn's promotion.

Adam promoted his pawn to a Queen.

"Check."

Julie took the Queen with her Rook.

"Stalemate, in four moves as promised."

Julie just looked at the board in silence. Adam's only remaining pieces were two pawns and his King. The pawns were wedged against other pawns and the King was covered in every direction. Each piece she'd taken, each piece he'd forced her to take, had cut-off his King's escape routes.

"But you sacrificed all your pieces!"

"To win. There's nothing better than snatching a draw from certain defeat."

Julie continued to stare at the board. Zoe patted Julie conciliatorily on the back.

"I tried to warn you Jules. Adam doesn't bluff."

"So," Isabelle said looking thoroughly amused, "What's Julie's forfeit?"

"I don't know yet," Adam replied, "But I'm sure I'll think of something." Julie looked suitably concerned. "Anyway, should we sort out something to eat?"

"We could order in," Zoe stated simply, not noticing the look Adam was throwing her.

"Order what?" Isabelle replied, "Take-out food is just greasy lumps of MSG."

"We don't need take-out, there's enough in the kitchen for me to put something together," Adam interjected swiftly, moving to Zoe's side and giving her shoulder a squeeze, hoping she'd get the point.

"You're cooking again?" Julie asked, "Are you completely unclear on how the 'guest' thing is supposed to work?"

"Well if you want you're welcome to help."

With the four of them working together dinner was a quick fix, especially since the only difficult bit was the sauce, which Adam handled. The food was undeniably healthy: grilled chicken, a salad made from any vegetables Isabelle could cannibalise from the fridge, a light sauce, but there was plenty of it (Adam had augmented the quantities earlier) and Adam made sure to serve up large platefuls to all concerned. After all every little helped. Zoe wrinkled her nose somewhat at the sight of her green and pleasant plate but after a look from Adam ate regardless. Adam was immediately rewarded by a soft moan of appreciation escaping her lips and a whispered "Thank you" in his ears. He'd made her food taste like cheeseburger and chips. Julie and Isabelle seemed similarly impressed with their meals, though Adam had made no alterations to them, and before long the plates were empty and being left to dry.

"That was good," Isabelle said as they returned to the living room. "Especially for health food."

"That wasn't health food, it was healthy food. How it tastes depends on how you cook it."

"Where did you find this one Zoe? Smart, funny, handsome," Adam blushed, Zoe smiled, "And he can cook? I'm pretty sure there are rules on this."

Zoe kissed Adam on the cheek in response before snuggling up against him on the sofa. Julie meanwhile was looking at the chessboard. She saw Adam catch her looking and quickly turned away but it gave Adam the opening he needed.

"Oh yes, that's right. You have a bet to settle Julie."

Adam rubbed his hands together for effect, given Julie's pupils it seemed to work.

"Let's see... I want you to..." Julie looked nervous, Isabelle excited. Zoe, Adam was sure, had figured out what he was doing by now. "I want you to join Zoe and me in a slice of cake."

"What?" Isabelle asked incredulously. Julie looked more than a little relieved.

"Some dessert after dinner. We picked it up earlier in a bakery Zoe saw when you two were out running this morning. Come on, let's get it out."

The cake was quickly presented for inspection, it actually looked a little feeble to Adam, used as he was to towering monstrosities that could feed 20 people.

"So, this is what you want for winning? Me to eat some cake? Is it poisonous or something?"

"Of course not."

"Then why?"

"Because," Adam lied easily, "I've always felt that betting against someone who can't win is unfair. The cake is an apology of sorts."

Adam then proceeded to cut the cake into quarters and then halved one quarter and plated them for Zoe and himself.

"So, how much do you want?" Adam asked Julie, knife hovering over the mid-point of the next quarter.

"A little less than..." Adam's eyes flashed triumphant. "You know what? Screw it!"

And so saying Julie took a quarter for herself and returned to the living room, where Isabelle's eyes widened at the size of her little sister's piece.

"What about you Izzy?" Zoe asked.

"Not for me thanks."

"Not even a tiny sliver?"

"I don't eat sweets Zoe."

"Why not?"

"Why not? Because it's hard to stay thin eating like a teenager when you aren't one anymore. The better question is why are you eating that stuff?"

"Because I like food, I always have. Good food is a pleasure in life. I eat sensibly and I exercise but I don't just deny myself the food I enjoy. Everything in moderation Izzy, and that includes dieting."

"Well, maybe another night. Besides Jules looks like she's eating plenty for the both of us."

"Hey!" Julie spluttered, spewing chocolate crumbs in the process.

"Come on Izzy," Zoe said in her most wheedling voice. "You'll make us all feel bad if you're left out."

"Oh, go on then. If you're going to resort to that pathetic a plea," Zoe stuck her tongue out at her elder sister, "Then I suppose I can have a very small piece."

Adam presented Isabelle with the knife and she cut herself a near microscopic slice but it didn't matter. The thought of her eating a slightly larger piece of cake everyday for weeks, of what every little excess would bring to her model-like figure as time passed, was more than enough to keep Adam happy. As Adam and Zoe ate their cake, Zoe clearly relishing the sweet chocolate flavour, Adam watched Julie and Isabelle eat their own. Isabelle was characteristically restrained, she took tiny forkfuls from her tiny sliver and chewed slowly, savouring each morsel. The first few bites had elicited a barely audible moan of pleasure, her eyes had fluttered slightly as she was overcome by the undeniably excellent taste. While Isabelle maintained this slow, careful speed Julie clearly did not possess the same level of discipline. She attacked the cake in large spoonfuls, bringing each one to her mouth as quickly as she could. As she chewed, her eyes closed, her head tilted back slightly and she prepared another mouthful. As soon as she swallowed she was ready with the next. When she cleared her plate she licked it clean of every errant crumb and then made sure the spoon was free of any last morsels of chocolatey goodness. Isabelle, who had already finished her pudding, watched her youngest sister's gluttony with a trace of a smile on her lips, while Julie licked the last trace of chocolate from her own.

"You better be careful Jules or you won't fit into that hideous costume of yours."

"Here we go again."

"Wait. What hideous costume?" Zoe asked.

"Oh, you've never seen 'That which shall not be worn' have you?" Izzy replied gleefully.

"That which shall not be worn?"

"It's Isabelle's endearing term for my cheerleading outfit. Izzy hates cheerleaders."

"I don't hate cheerleaders, I hate ugly clothes. And that monstrosity should be burned. Red and green?" Izzy shuddered melodramatically.

"They're the school colours, and it's not that bad."

"Oh, not that bad? Then go upstairs and put it on, let Zoe see how graceful and elegant it looks."

Julie couldn't help but look down at the spotless empty plate in her hands for a moment before storming upstairs to her room. When she returned a few minutes later, to Isabelle's wolf-whistling, she was dressed in a revealing and garish ensemble that certainly was a bit much for the eyes. The costume looked like it had been designed by a teen-drama junkie suffering from colour-blindness. What drew Adam's attention though was the little bulge of her food-filled belly pressing into the indecently short skirt. Following Zoe's eyes Adam knew she'd seen it too, though Isabelle seemed far to overwhelmed by the dreadful clothes to notice such a minor change in Julie's appearance.

"Jules," Zoe said, her voice calming, "With the best will in the world that's not a very flattering outfit."

"Ha! Told you."

"Oh yes, I completely rely on the opinions of my sisters. Adam, you're the only man here, what do you think?"

At this point Adam stood up, grabbed the empty cake plates and took them to the kitchen, resolutely ignoring the stares of the three women following him out the room.

"Where are you going?" Zoe asked.

"To the kitchen looking for a sharp object."

"Look at that, your cheerleading costume has driven a man to suicide," Isabelle happily crowed.

"That's not what he said!"

Hanging his head resignedly Adam settled back onto the sofa. It would be a long night.

Fortunately an end appeared far sooner than Adam had been hoping when Julie suddenly exclaimed,

"It's eight o'clock!"

Immediately the television was turned back on, this time to the local news, where Adam was amused to see Alex in the flashy sound-effect laden roll-call. The show was about what Adam expected. An older man looking respectful and dignified, a younger woman with a smile plastered ear to ear, and news soft enough to spread on toast. Alex's weather segment was less hammy but certainly not helped by the cheesy animated graphic of a raincloud jumping around the greater San Francisco area. Adam could see her eyes drifting from side to side away from the autocue when she wasn't looking directly at the camera. Perhaps it was wishful thinking on his part but Adam thought she might just be hungry enough to be watching people with food walk by the weather room.

With Alex's TV appearance having successfully defused Julie and Isabelle's argument, the two talking and laughing again like it had never happened (Julie had changed out of the offending clothing after the news) the four settled in for the rest of the night. By 23:30 Isabelle had gone home and Zoe was yawning loudly, stretched across the sofa while Julie and Adam played another game of chess, their third since dinner. Eventually Zoe flicked off the TV, kissed Adam on the cheek and bid them both goodnight.

"I won't be long," Adam said as Julie fell into the carefully orchestrated knight pincer he had been planning for ten moves.

"No," Julie said as Adam moved his knight and rendered her Queen as good as dead, "He won't."

"Where did you learn to play like this?" she asked him.

"I don't know, I kind of figured it out. Chess just makes sense to me. Same as it does to you."

"To me?"

"Yes, to you. Chess attracts a certain mindset: logical, methodical, analytical. People that also tend to make pretty fair scientists." Adam wasn't being particularly subtle, especially given that he'd only met Julie the day before, but he wasn't pushing anything. Julie was looking at him now, she actually looked a little frightened. Clearly this was not a subject she wanted to talk about. Seemingly put off she made a stupid move and opened herself to a checkmate. Knowing that she wanted the game to end but not wanting to just kill her Adam rotated the board around and told her to find the mistake. Focused again on the game she quickly spotted the error and groaned. Packing up the board the two climbed upstairs, bidding each other goodnight, and Adam quietly opened the door to the room he shared with Zoe.

Zoe was still awake, she wasn't even in bed. Instead she was standing in nothing but a pair of very small panties staring at herself in a full-length mirror. Instinctively Adam turned his head and shielded his eyes only for Zoe swear under her breath and turn around to face him. Out of the corner of his eye Adam glimpsed her stunning breasts swaying gently with the movement.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked, sounding irritated.

"Sure."

"Just look at me will you."

Adam did so, keeping his eyes firmly fixed above her neck.

"Do you find thin people ugly?"

"No, that's as ridiculous as finding thin people attractive."

"But you prefer fat?"

"I think that more fat makes someone more attractive, to a point at least. Someone can be so fat that it makes them less appealing, particularly if they don't take good care of themselves, just like someone can be too skinny. Fat doesn't make people beautiful."

"What about me?"

Adam tried to think of something to say. Was she asking him if he thought she'd be more attractive if she was heavier? He elected for silence.

"Do you think I'm ugly?"

"Why on earth would I think that? You know how sexy you are, you don't need me to tell you."

"Then why haven't you made a move?"

"Because...we're friends. What's brought this on?"

Zoe sat down on the bed, her breasts jiggling at the sharp motion, Adam joined her but kept a few inches of space between them.

"I don't understand. Why doesn't it work?"

"Why doesn't what work?"

"My magic. I'm not just supposed to be beautiful, I'm supposed to be desirable. Since I've had my powers I don't even know how many people I've slept with. Not in a slutty way or anything, I just enjoy sex, I always have, and it's so empowering to be so beautiful that people are desperate for your touch."

Adam was feeling a little uncomfortable, not to mention somewhat hot under the collar.

"I've had threesomes and foursomes, slept with gay men and straight women. I've picked up guys without saying a word, just batting my eyelids and walking out the door. And yet you," Zoe's voice started to increase and volume and intensity, "You look away from me when I'm nude, you don't stare at me when you think I'm not looking. I could have anyone and yet the guy sleeping next to me doesn't even cop a feel?"

Adam really didn't know what to say now, he was convinced he was screwed no matter what.

"You know what? Enough's enough."

And with that Zoe did something Adam had not been expecting. She pounced on him, exhibiting surprising strength as she swung him round, straddled him and pinned his arms to the bed. Adam was too stunned to move, Zoe's head and torso filled his vision, her perfect breasts and gorgeous face the only thing he could see. Her eyes were fierce, an animal-like ferocity sparkling behind her green irises, her mouth halfway between a coy smile and feral snarl. As if in slow motion Adam felt her weight shift forward, saw her lean down towards him, eyes dancing. She kissed him, a long passionate kiss that sent a tingle up Adam's spine. Instinct taking over where brain had long since given up he kissed her back, wresting his arms free and pulling her closer. As they broke apart, both somewhat breathless, they stared at each other, eyes locked together.

"Now that," Zoe said, "Is what I was looking for."

"So, you're not mad at me?" Adam asked stupidly, it was the first thing that had come to mind.

"Honestly," Zoe said, leaning close to his ear and dropping her voice to a seductive whisper, "Having to work for it is kind of a turn-on."

She kissed him again, harder than before. One hand slowly slid up his chest under his shirt while the other ran through his hair. Adam responded with renewed vigour, kissing the nape of her neck while his hands toured the supple curve of her hips, drawing her closer to him as their passion grew in both speed and intensity. Their bodies entwined. She nibbled his ear as her deft fingers worked his shirt up over his head to be quickly forgotten in a pile on the floor. Rolling her over Adam began running his hands up her curves, mouths never separating, while she swiftly unbuttoned his trousers as he hastily kicked them off. He moved his hands to her breasts, kneading them gently at first but increasing the pressure as her moans of pleasure grew. He teased the already pert nipple of her right breast between finger and thumb while simultaneously kissing the other as their hips began to instinctively grind together. His free hand gently traced the contours of her curves, a single finger running lightly down her legs before slipping back upwards to brush the inside of her thigh. Zoe's breath seized in her throat. Her legs clenched together. In a single fluid movement she yanked his boxers clean off and rolled back on top him. Grabbing his hands again she placed them hard on her buttocks, moaning as his fingers dug into her taut cheeks.

"Rip them off," she commanded, her voice dripping with urgency, and Adam wasted no time in complying with her desire.

She began to ride him, slowly, and Adam matched her movement and her rhythm, each gasping in pleasure as their bodies collided. Zoe's breasts bounced luxuriously, Adam gripped tighter onto her behind while her hands roved over his naked chest. At first Adam was too lost in the moment to feel it but as they drove into each other again and again his fingers started sinking into the soft flesh swelling from her pert cheeks. Squeezing her harder now he began to increase in speed, Zoe moaning in ecstasy and throwing her head back in wild abandon. Adam watched her breasts grow larger, bouncing and swaying more with each thrust. Soon her abs faded away beneath a sheaf of tender fat that quickly began jiggling in unison with her breasts, every breath Zoe took seeming to make it grow larger and larger. Adams hands roved over the new expanse, his fingers sending shivers and groans through Zoe's entire body as they grasped her new love-handles. As their love-making grew still more intense Adam was overcome by the sea of undulating flesh: breasts expanding before his eyes, stomach wobbling as they writhed, buttocks jiggling through his grasping fingers. Adam pulled himself upright, hands drawing her body towards him as they began kissing again, feverishly trying to find every ounce of pleasure there was to be had. Zoe's enormous breasts, nearly double their original size yet retaining their perfect shape and firmness pressed hard into Adam's chest so that the generous overflow of flesh made to envelop his arms. As Zoe wrapped her legs more tightly around him he could feel her thighs soften and grow, their plush warmth seeping into him driving their urgency to ever greater heights until he felt Zoe convulse violently as she climaxed, never pausing for a moment. Adam could feel her potbelly pressing into his own stomach now, pliable and soft he massaged the quivering mass of flesh as all of Zoe grew larger and larger. Her thighs spread wider, growing softer and more powerful, binding him to her all the more tightly as her entire body shuddered again. Everywhere his hands went they were enveloped in yielding, inviting fat. Every moment was a mixture of glory and struggle as he strove to hold on, knowing that every second Zoe became more ravishing, her body more opulent. Adam felt surrounded by fat, her breasts, her belly, her legs encased him until finally, with an agonising groan both of them reached a tumultuous crescendo and fell apart on the bed, skin shining with perspiration and each drawing deep, ragged breaths as they sought to recover.

Neither had the strength for words and Zoe certainly lacked the wherewithal to redress the expansion she had cast on herself. As she huddled against him already asleep, his arm around her shoulder and her head on his chest, Adam took a moment to enjoy the feeling of her bloated belly pressing against his side and the stunning sight of her monstrous breasts, still pert despite their size, towering above their supine forms before wearily returning her body to its normal size and falling asleep, utterly spent.
venusderubens
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Re: The Power of Fantasy (WG, Magic) (1-11)

Postby venusderubens » Tue Jul 20, 2021 4:22 pm

Chapter XIV

Adam woke after only a few hours of sleep. It was still dark outside, not even the faintest glimmer of the pre-dawn on the horizon, and unsurprisingly no one else was stirring. Faced with the unwelcome prospect of waiting in silence until Zoe awoke Adam endeavoured to return to sleep. Trouble was, he wasn't tired. In spite of what should have been an acute lack of sleep and the exertions of the previous night he was wide awake. Even the comfortable warmth of Zoe's nubile form pressed against him couldn't send him back into his dreams for a few more hours. He should have been tired, he should never have woken so early in the first place, but in spite of his efforts there was nothing he could do.

Lying in bed hoping the steady pulse of Zoe's breathing might help him relax, Adam took a quick examination of the house. Julie was in her room wrapped in her crimson cocoon. Buried underneath a stack of magazines that appeared to have been hastily tossed into the wastepaper basket was a veritable smorgasbord of candy wrappers. Evidently Julie concerned by her sudden uncontrollable feasting, or at least their inevitable consequence, a by-product no doubt of her mother's avid desire for her to model and the social pressures incumbent with high school. Parading around the living room in her cheerleading outfit after being magically compelled to eat a large slice of chocolate cake probably hadn't helped either. Adam was very intrigued by her transparent attempt to hide the evidence of her nocturnal gluttony, the thought of her happily eating her sugary penance only to recoil in horror when she saw the aftermath. Asleep now she betrayed none of those troubled thoughts, slight smile across her face. Adam could feel, without even trying, the faint tendrils of her dreams flitting through her subconscious. He got the impression of sunlight and open air. It was tempting to interfere, to see what a little prodding could do to her dreams, but it was still much too early for those sorts of measures.

Remotely scanning the other three girls from where he lay caused Adam no more strain than opening his eyes. There was little of interest to see other than brief glimpses into their homes. Alex's fastidiously neat apartment, Sam's cluttered desk with the hardwood surface buried beneath a three deep covering of books and papers, Isabelle's fashionable furniture and equally fashionable male model lying beside her. Alone in the dark and bereft of anything to occupy his thoughts Adam returned to the shadowy musings that had first plagued him in the dreamscape. Issues of humanity, of power, swirled around in a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions. Even in his own mind Adam felt on unfamiliar ground, like his feelings weren't part of him anymore but rather that he could see all of them, know all of them, and yet stand apart from them. He thought that it should frighten him. He wondered further if it should frighten him that it didn't.

By the time Zoe eventually opened her eyes the sun was over the horizon and Adam was so lost in his own thoughts that he barely registered her saying,

"Morning."

Dragging himself out of his own head, noting with curiosity that he could feel an almost physical sensation to returning his focus to the external world, Adam returned the greeting and the two lay in silence for a time. As the minutes passed Adam felt a mounting pressure on his head, barely noticeable but a continuous force. It wasn't until he saw the look of concentration on Zoe's face that he realised what was happening, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Are you trying to read my mind?"

"Yes!" she huffed immediately, "Why are you blocking me? We read each other's minds all the time."

"I'm not blocking you. At least I'm not trying to. What were you looking for?"

"Well... I was wondering why you put me back to normal?"

"Because as stunning as you looked I know that being fat isn't something you're comfortable with. You looked too tired to do it yourself, so I did it for you."

"You really thought I looked stunning?"

"Nice try Zoe but I know you too well to fall for that."

"For what," she replied coyly, the corners of her lips twitching in a suppressed smile.

"The whole 'emotionally fragile and looking for reassurance' bit."

"Okay," she said, laughing, "You got me, I was on fire. Though I've got to say you weren't too shabby yourself. If being fat gets me that good a night's sleep I can probably live with it from time to time."

Adam took the compliment silently while Zoe continued to chuckle. The sun inched across the floor.

"So, how do we do this?" Zoe eventually asked.

"Do what?"

"You know, the talk? Or some talk anyway. I mean, don't get me wrong last night was biblical but..."

"But how do two people have a 'relationship' when one fattens girls for his own amusement and the other thrives on drawing the sexual desire of every creature with a pulse?"

"Well when you put it like that we kind of sound like dicks."

"Maybe. Anyway, the answer's easy. Are you looking for a relationship?"

"No! Are you?"

"No."

"Well there we are then. Nothing needs to change. It was sex, great sex," Zoe grinned, "But neither of us need it to be more than that."

"When you say nothing needs to change does that mean...?" Zoe's eyes left no illusion as to her meaning, Adam response, non-verbal, left no question as to his answer.


By the end of the week Adam's plans were beginning to bear fruit, small fruit, but fruit nonetheless. Friday lunch saw Adam, Zoe and Julie in the living room playing chess. Zoe had consented to learn, quickly picking up the rules and was now tragically struggling with the strategy. Adam knew she had hoped her powers would grant her a similar level of skill over Julie as he possessed but so far concepts didn't seem to be translating neatly into practice. Furthermore her attempts to cheat by reading Julie's mind had been quickly thwarted by Adam, a good deed for which he had paid severely. Julie's game on the other hand was looking increasingly polished. She had yet to beat Adam, though he was nearing the point where he was prepared to let her win, but her improvement in only five days was remarkable. However, it wasn't just her fine grasp of the end-game that made Julie the most agreeable of Zoe's relatives. Julie was gaining weight. Indeed she'd gained 4lbs, more than respectable in such a short space of time, but Adam knew that if it hadn't been for good genes and a youthful metabolism she would have gained more. Perhaps Adam had been naive about women's attitude to their bodies or perhaps Julie's upbringing had instilled a particularly self-critical mindset but she appeared to be terrified of her new eating habits to the tune of a cool dozen chocolatey treats each night, sometimes as many as two. The last three mornings Adam had watched her standing in front of a mirror, poking and prodding and fretting, occasionally glancing wide-eyed at the cold steel scale under her bed. And her eating? Truly a sight to behold. The weight of her problem pressing on her day by day only compounded her dilemma. Thinking about diets, about sensible eating, about what she could not and would not eat only doomed her to give in and enjoy the sinful treats she feared. And she did enjoy them. The spell removed her self-restraint, removed her concerns and trepidations and left her with nothing more than the desire to fulfil her cravings. Without the guilt holding her back she relished each morsel of food she ate, savoured every bite until the last crumbs were cleaned away. And when reality returned the counter ticked up.

What was strange was that she really had nothing to worry about. Her new weight had spread evenly over her body: a barely perceptible softening of her thighs; a fractional ripple to her rump as she walked; a near invisible suppleness to her stomach. The weight accentuated her curves. Slim hips gained a few millimetres, cleavage deepened, even her cheeks were minutely more rounded, somehow enhancing the girl-next-door charm even though the change was unnoticeable to anyone but Adam and his magical eye. The weight was so evenly scattered that not a single other person could tell she had put on an ounce, even her hawk-eyed mother. But Julie knew. She knew because she could feel her eating slipping out of control. She knew because the scale mocked her. And she knew it was going to get worse. Not being able to see the pounds was driving her crazy. Every slight movement of her body was phantom fat jiggling. All the clothes she owned felt tighter than before. All her friends were staring at the head cheerleader turning into a blubber butt. She'd tried exercise of course but it wasn't in her nature. She'd run with Zoe one morning and come back ready to faint, though Zoe insisted she'd gone easy on her poor little sister. Praise from her mother on her newfound commitment, though completely genuine, only embarrassed her further and made certain that there was no repeat performance. Not that exercise could help of course. Adam loved the true irony of the situation: if Julie simply accepted herself and lived as she pleased instead of trying to please others she wouldn't get nearly as fat.

Adam was playing both girls simultaneously on two separate boards. Zoe was assaulting his Knights with the subtlety of a brick while he manoeuvred his Bishops for a check-induced Bishop-Queen-Pawn trade while Julie was trying to use a trap Adam had showcased two days ago against his King's Rook. But in spite of the riveting distraction Adam wasn't paying much attention. He was waiting, waiting for something he had been planning for almost three weeks, ever since Zoe had made her strange request. Adam had spent a lot of time thinking about the curses he would use. He had agonised over dozens of ideas and it had only been after meeting all of them that he made his final choices from a short-list of six. But he had also spent time planning what to do when the spells were set. He had machinations brewing on a multitude of fronts, ready and waiting to give anyone who needed it a push in the right direction. A part of Adam was also looking to show-off for Zoe. She resented him a little, he knew, for being stronger than she was magically. He didn't know why he was, or rather he had several competing theories each as likely as the next, but he knew that things like his apparent immunity to her charms gnawed at her. Paradoxically though she loved it when Adam did something big, like the cheerleaders on Parker's Piece or the litany of enchantments he'd woven around her family, and he knew she'd be especially enthralled with a grand spectacle designed especially for her, or rather for her family's fattening. It might even make up for the unforeseen accident with Alex.

The thing was, not everything had gone entirely Adam's way. Indeed, Julie's soaring success was the exception rather than the norm. That Isabelle's gain would begin slowly was something Adam was prepared for. Even with the small victories he won on her first day she was still barely eating a third of a woman's RDA in calories. And now, after five long days of steady percentage increase? Still less than 1000 a day. Part of the problem of course was that she spent most of her days at work surrounded by models, her evenings at fashionable parties and her nights in her home leaving little opportunity for temptation. The other part of the problem was that she just wasn't that interested in food. To Isabelle food was something she needed, never something she wanted and Adam was going to have to find a way to change that. However, in spite of the less than stellar progress Isabelle didn't have him worried, her weight gain was a matter of when not if, but Sam was proving more of a concern.

When Adam had envisioned a girl being unable to refuse offered food he had been thinking about the early years of his undergraduate degree. Living in halls, working with fellow NatScis in the faculty building, late night impromptu corridor parties to celebrate a day ending in a "Y". Food had been as natural a part of that time as friends and studying, more than one of Adam's female classmates had grown in their new environment, but Sam's college experience didn't seem to match. People didn't study together so much, rather they sat on their own in the library working till the small hours, trying to prove their superiority by being the last person there. The common areas weren't filled with crowds laughing and talking but with small groups engaged in serious conversations. Sam was long out of halls but her apartment complex, near campus, was filled with students yet none of them seemed to socialise the way Adam had expected. As a result Sam's curse had been effectively irrelevant, though Adam hoped the holidays might improve her consumption somewhat, which was why he was particularly looking forward to getting started with his next masterstroke.

With the impatience of child Adam cast his mind out to look for Alex's car, hoping she was finally on her way to deliver the "big news" that he knew she had. Remotely watching her drive ever closer was about as scintillating as waiting for a kettle to boil but she did have a very good run of the traffic lights. Besides, it wasn't as if he needed to pay much attention to the chess: Zoe was anywhere from 3 to 10 moves away from checkmate depending on Adam's mood and Julie wasn't too far behind, having had her carefully laid trap reversed on her to the cost of her Queen. Adam stretched out the games as long as he could until he was rewarded with the sound of an engine pulling up to the front of the house. Adam ended both games just as Alex bounced in, face barely containing her excitement and jacket barely containing her.

"Guys! You'll never guess what," she said, voice practically radiating energy.

Want to bet? Adam thought, smiling.

"What?" Zoe asked. Julie was still staring at the chessboard ruefully.

"The studio is giving me my first in-the-field report!"

"What!" Julie suddenly exclaimed, leaping up and hugging her cousin. "That's amazing, I'm so happy for you. And can I say, about fricking time!"

"So," Zoe asked, "What'd they say?"

"Well, they said I'd been testing really well lately and that it was becoming increasingly difficult to send the anchors out to cover stories and then not have them on hand for emergencies. So they decided to hire a weekend weatherman, give me a shot at reporting, and see how everything looks in a month."

Adam broke his silence at this point to say "Congratulations," and then, mentally grinning ear to ear said, "But what's this report on?"
venusderubens
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Re: The Power of Fantasy (WG, Magic) (1-11)

Postby venusderubens » Tue Jul 20, 2021 4:28 pm

Chapter XV

"Hello, you're here with me, Alex Brinkley, on an absolutely beautiful mid-December day. But the story today isn't the good weather it's what you can see behind me, the very first Annual San Francisco Food Festival. This weekend chefs and restaurateurs, vendors and wholesalers, critics and you the public are hitting the pavements of Downtown where the streets are lined with hundreds of stalls showcasing the very best of food from across the world and right here in San Francisco. And what makes this event truly unique is that thanks to the generosity of Sucrocorp, the mayor's office, and the hundreds of volunteers who have helped make this event a reality the food here is all free! In this report I'll be speaking to the masterminds behind this momentous occasion and I'll also be talking to all of you here with me today to find the very best of the extraordinary culinary delights on offer. So please stay with us because we've barely even started, you're watching Channel 6 News with me, Alex Brinkley."

"And cut, we're clear."

Trotting over in her charcoal suit Alex quietly asked her assembled family,

"So, how'd I do?"

"You were great." "Wonderful dear." "Nice speech, and you didn't trip over yourself once."

"You're sure? I didn't oversell it with the 'momentous' stuff?"

"Actually," Adam said quietly, "there was one thing."

"Yeah?"

"In your opening intro you said something like 'the story isn't the weather', do you want your first news report to remind people they're used to seeing you in front of a computerised map?"

Alex stared dumbly for a moment, mouth gaping in incredulity.

"How did I not see that?" turning back around she called out to her cameraman, "Henry! Roll it again. I want to take another whack at it."

While Alex was making her second attempt on what was, in Adam's humble opinion, a slightly over-zealous introduction for a puff piece, he took a moment to relish his surroundings. Weeks of work, of manipulating people's minds from hundreds of miles away to create a true marvel, his own private utopia for the weekend. Listening carefully he could hear the voices of thousands upon thousands of hungry stomachs crying to be fed. Suffused in the warm glow of gluttony surrounding him Adam was seized by inspiration, a desire to try something he had never envisioned before. Focusing his mind to a razor sharp edge he concentrated with every ounce of his strength. In his mind's eye he could see a ball of pure white building inside of him, growing larger and larger. Soon subtle striations of even brighter light began swirling across the surface creating a mesmerising pattern of shapes and phantasms across the blinding sphere. When it was finally large enough Adam relaxed his concentration and watched as the globe exploded, releasing a wave of energy that washed across the city.

The chorus grew louder.

Beside him he felt Zoe, who's head rested upon his shoulder, stir as the force of his spell echoed around them. With them were Julie, Isabelle, Sam and Zoe's parents, all of whom were spared Adam's blast in light of their more specific callings. They were in a section of the fair dedicated to Italian food (Alex had felt it lent a certain air of sophistication as a background for her opening) and the smell of pizza and pasta suffused the air, everywhere Adam looked there were people eating. But far more delectable to Adam was the intangible hedonism that pervaded the landscape, filling him with so much energy his fingertips practically crackled with electricity.

"Guys," Alex called over, "I think this might take another few goes and it'll be a while. After this I'm gunna wander around, interview some people, the guys need to shoot some B-roll. Why don't you go and enjoy the fair and we'll meet back here at six and grab some dinner?"

And with that the group disbanded. Alex resumed her discussions with the camera crew, Julie disappeared to find her friends, Sam, Isabelle and Zoe's parents headed off in opposite directions and it was just Adam and Zoe, alone again.

"I really can't believe Alex is still wearing that suit," Zoe mused to Adam.

"Look, I've apologised again and again for that, I mean seriously how was I supposed to know?"

"I just think it's surprising that of all the minute details you worked out the one thing that escaped your notice was that Alex likes to wear really tight bras to keep herself in check on camera and then you just 'happen' to curse her to gain weight where her clothes are tightest."

"It was an honest mistake, and it's not like it was a complete travesty. She only gained half a pound."

"A cup-size Adam. She gained a freaking cup-size in less than a week."

It was true of course. The highly directional nature of Adam's spell had sent every excess calorie Alex had snacked on to her chest, to dramatic effect. The fact that her clothes had not been resized for her newly rounded shape was in clear evidence in spite of Alex's determined efforts to hide her new curves. The buttons on the dark grey jacked were straining underneath the added stress and the eagle-eyed could just make out the outline of her bra against the taut white shirt poking between the buttons.

"Look, it'll work out in the end I promise. Eventually she'll be forced to upsize her wardrobe, she'll buy loose to try and downplay the change and the weight will start going someplace more fun. It really wasn't intentional." Adam's umpteenth apology was met with grudging silence. As usual.

"This is insane by the way," she said. "That you made all this, completely and utterly nuts."

"I didn't make it, I just made sure it was made."

"Completely nuts. Anyway, what do we do now?"

"Well, it's half-seven in the morning and we haven't had breakfast yet, I suggest we find some."

"Don't we need to follow someone? Make sure they, I don't know, whatever it is you have planned for them."

"You don't think letting them loose in a food festival is enough?"

"I think you wouldn't leave something like that to chance."

"Well that's true, but there's no need to follow, I can keep an eye on them remotely, nudge them if necessary. So I suggest we enjoy ourselves, I'm pretty sure I smell waffles round the corner."

Zoe's stomach gurgled in response and the decision was settled. Adam felt a little guilty about lying to Zoe. It wasn't a real lie, more a lie of omission. He had said he would be keeping an eye on the girls, he just hadn't mentioned how he would be doing it. It would just upset her. Focusing his mind again Adam sent tendrils of thought spiralling out to his four favourite subjects and established a mental link with each of them. A torrent of information, sights, smells, sounds, feelings poured into his consciousness in a roiling cauldron of chaos and clamour. For an instant Adam feared he had over-estimated his abilities in believing he could parse the data from four separate psyches but soon enough his mind calmed and he was able to divide the information into four distinct streams. Now he could experience everything that Julie, Isabelle, Sam and Alex saw, thought, felt or did while he wandered the streets of San Francisco with Zoe.


Isabelle

Why am I always so hungry in the mornings? I mean seriously, for the last two decades the most I ever bothered with for breakfast was a piece of fruit as I walked out the door and yet this whole week I've been absolutely ravenous after my run. I'm must be getting sick. Or old. Oh stop being so ridiculous Isabelle.

*Rumble*

Great, now my stomach is actually making noises. In public. You'd never believe I was a model, well, unless you looked at me.

*Rumble*

Alright, alright, I get it, food. As soon as I find something half-way healthy in this sea of calories I'll have a bite. A small bite. I may not be on the catwalk anymore but that's no reason to go blimping up. Like Naomi, he he. God, just thinking about the sight of her when she stuffed herself so full of crab cakes she ripped her dress makes me want to burst out laughing. And I swear she's been binging in secret ever since, I'm almost certain that was powdered sugar on her lips yesterday. Man I could go for a donut. Whoa, where did that come from? Snap out of it girl, you're not a wide load yet. Okay, that looks promising.

The "promise" was a stall selling fresh food made from home-grown produce but even from across the other side of the fair Adam could tell that it wasn't "diet" food.

"Hi, welcome to Healthy Attitudes, how may I serve you today?" That is one hell of Southern accent.

"Hi, um, I'm looking for something healthy but filling, anything you'd recommend?"

"Well, all our food is healthy. One-hundred percent pure organic food, no preservatives, additives or processed anything. If you're looking for something good may I suggest one of our fresh baked blueberry muffins, I eat one for breakfast every single day." Well, she's pretty thin, I guess a muffin can't be so bad.

Hunger is a wonderful motivator.

"Sure, I'll take one." What in the... that is one gigantic muffin. Well, I guess I can throw away what I don't eat.

Yeah, I'm sure they'll be plenty for the birds...


Alex

"And... we're clear. You happy with that one Alex?"

"Yeah, I think so. Definitely better." Trouble is I need perfect, if I mess this up...

"So, where to now?"

"Um..." I really should know that. I need people to watch this, what are people going to watch? Okay, interviews, interviews are where I should start. I mean, it's barely 8am and this place is packed with people, how hard can it be to find some good material?

"What do you think about interviews Henry?"

"Don't ask me, I'm just the camera guy."

He's looking at my chest again. God they really do look enormous in this shirt. Must... resist... urge to... readjust bra. Who ever heard of woman in her twenties having a growth spurt? It feels like I'm wearing a corset and I never should have worn this jacket, I'm going to look like a slut and the executives will never let me out in the field again. I'll be the ditzy, unnecessarily sexualised weather girl bimbo for the rest of my career. And a pretty short career it'll be if my only draw is a pair of C-cups, uhh... D-cups. At least they're not moving too much on camera, I'd never live it down at the station. And to top it off I'm really hungry. And I can't just go around snacking all day when I'm on camera, I'll look like some bloated pig. Raiding the grips' box of donuts when nobody's looking is one thing, but not out here. I can't risk Henry filming it, even for a joke.

Focus Alex, you're working here. You need to find someone worth interviewing. Think professionally, what's your demographic? 18-25s don't watch local news but they do better on television. Then again, I'm still in that demo so I'll look too young to do serious news. Our viewers tend to be older but the last thing I need is an interview with an octogenarian. So the middle ground. I want someone presentable but not over-the-top attractive, professional maybe. Come on there's got to be someone.

Adam threw her a bone. Look behind you...

Her! Okay Alex, professional eye. She's in her early thirties, check. No unsightly scars or tattoos, check. Cute but pretty chunky, check. Food in hand, bonus.

"Excuse me miss, would you mind giving a few minutes to talk to Channel 6?" Confidence Alex. Confidence.

"Certainly, glad to see they're covering this marvellous event."

"So, what do you think of San Francisco's Food Fair so far?"

"It's spectacular I must say. You only have to look around to see what a success it is."

"Any stall in particular that you're keeping an eye on?"

"Evita's. They're the best bakers in town and they're going all out this weekend, I've never seen such an incredible display of food in all my life. And this cinnamon roll," she waved her pastry demonstratively, "Is absolutely amazing. I had to leave before I decided to spend the whole day there."

"And cut. That was great, thanks very much. Which way is Evita's?"


Isabelle

Did I eat that whole thing? No, it's impossible, I must've dropped it or something, I couldn't still be hungry after eating a muffin the size of my fist. And muffin's are full of air anyway. I needed something filling, not air, maybe I can get some fruit.


Adam

"Mmm..." Zoe hummed in contentment at his side as she devoured her second plate of waffles. "Did you make all this food super-tasty? Because if so, well done."

"No, but an event like this attracts the best of the best. Of course the cynic in me suspects that since they don't have to worry about costs some of the restaurants are being more generous with the flavourings than they might have been otherwise."

"Well, I think it's high time to go and find the next delicious thing for me to eat."

"Feeling hungry today?" Adam asked, teasingly.

"Oh shut it, I've got what every woman dreams of: the ability to eat without getting fat. Trust me, if they could do it every single woman here would be gorging themselves into a coma. Although," she said, looking around, "Most of them seem to be making a pretty good go of it anyway."

It was true, even at the early hour there were some prodigious belly bulges around.

"Yeah... guess it must be good," Adam said, hoping Zoe wouldn't put two and two together.


Alex

Wow. That woman wasn't kidding.

In front of Alex was a seemingly impossible display of cakes, pastries and pies the likes of which she had never even dreamt of. A ring of tables underneath a large canopy, from which eager crowds were gleefully sampling, were covered in every confection imaginable. But it wasn't just the quantity or the way the smell of freshly baked bread infused with the sugared aroma of the sweets to create an aroma so delicious you could almost drink it, it was the phenomenal commitment to design and attention to detail. A model of the Golden Gate Bridge made from shortbread, liquorice and sponge cake with tiny frosting cars. Thousands of coloured cupcakes that together formed a giant map of the United States with tiny models of the most notable landmarks made from icing lovingly placed atop them. And in the centre of the room was the masterpiece. An eight foot tall tiered cake, alternating between vanilla and chocolate icing, decorated with intricate flowers, vines and petals, birds so real they looked like they might fly straight off the cake. And at the top was what appeared to be a tiny model of the very stall Alex was standing in, complete with miniature pastries and a perfectly to scale duplicate cake.

"Holy..." Henry exhaled behind her.

This is torturous. How can I be expected to go around making a story about food when I feel so hungry? I've got to eat something.

*Growl*

Really need to eat something. God I hope the mic didn't pick that up. Maybe I can sneak something while Henry's distracted. Ohhhh, but I can't eat when I have to be on camera, it's unprofessional. Unless...

"Henry..."

"Start filming. Yeah."

"Hello and welcome to the pagoda that's been erected at the corner of Geary and Market and to the fantastical display that is the work of Evita's right here in San Francisco. And with me is the owner and master of culinary wizardry herself, Ms. Evita Escuella. So, Evita, this is a truly beautiful showcase, how long did it take you to make all this?"

"Well, it was very important to us that everything we made was fresh, it's a rule at the bakery, so everything you see around you was made today."

"You made all of this in one day?" Holy shit. Don't swear when the camera's on Alex, even in your head.

"Well, not just me. I've had lots of helpers. The whole process actually started two weeks ago when me and by husband Howard started planning our displays, perfecting our designs and so on. We've actually made everything you see here two or three times in small scale to practice."

"And are you happy with the results?"

"Absolutely ecstatic. As a cook there's nothing more gratifying than to see people enjoying your food. It's turned out better than I could have hoped." Her eyes are actually shining with tears, this is going to make a great interview!

"So, what else do you have planned for the fair?"

"Each day there's going to be a completely new display. This fair gives us an amazing opportunity to try new recipes and get lots of feedback, the support from all my regulars has been just incredible. Also, we're entering a number of competitions over the course of the weekend, Howie's taking part in the bake-off tomorrow and we're contributing to a lot of the events as well, today for instance we're providing food for the pie-eating contest."

"Wow, where do you find the energy? I'm almost afraid to ask if there's anything else."

"Just one thing, anything I can get you?"

"Well," Alex dropped her voice to a conspiratorial stage whisper, "Now that you mention it I am a little peckish, anything here you'd recommend for a hungry reporter?"

"Actually," Evita replied, producing a tray from under a counter, "I have a selection of my favourites right here."

"Ooh, these all look too good to eat."

"There's no such thing mi amor, so please try a bite and tell me what you think."

Okay, éclair, bad idea, too messy and let's not think about the innuendo. A donut, a little pedestrian and too early for something so sweet. Why don't I just eat all of them? Because you're on camera Alex. Maybe if I was taste-testing... Oh stop worrying Alex and just eat already.

Alex grabbed a pastry with a light sprinkling of powdered sugar and rows of chocolate icing and took a tentative bite. Her entire body shivered slightly at the taste and her eyelids fluttered in excitement.

Where has this been all my life? Okay, Alex keep a cool head, do NOT stuff this pastry into your mouth till you're off camera.

"I see you like it, yes?"

"Like it, I think I'd like to be left alone with it, this is the most amazing pastry I've ever tasted! I'm no food critic but I'd say you're a shoo-in for 1st place."

"Oh, you are too kind."

"Thank you very much for taking the time to talk to me Evita, good luck in the competition, and remember everyone come on down to the Evita pagoda for some truly out of this world food."

"And... clear."

"How was that Henry?"

"It was... brilliant. I think you're on to something here. Going around and doing spotlights on the most exciting and innovating booths could make a great segment."

"You think so? Well awesome, let's get to it. Evita, any chance I can get a few of those pastries to go?"

I'd better be careful not to spoil my appetite, sounds like I'm going to be tasting a lot of food today.


Isabelle

I'm so bored. And full. Finally. A blueberry muffin, two apples, some British bagel-like thing covered in butter and a cheese and red pepper omelette and I'm finally not hungry anymore. Why am I eating so much? Is it just the complete absence of anything else to do in this place? I'm happy for Alex and all, getting her first gig in the field is great, but could she not have covered a fashion show or something? Food is just so... dull. Maybe my outlook is a little biased after being a model but if I can get by on steamed vegetables and lean chicken all cooked in five minutes why would I bother spending hours in a kitchen?

What does good food get you anyway? Fat is what. I mean, look around me, people gorging themselves as far as the eye can see. That woman's practically forcing a pizza down her throat even though her shirt's rolled up over her bloated stomach. Belly-shirts don't look good on anyone but they really look terrible on women with actual bellies. She actually has an engagement ring as well, no wedding band though. Eating away her cold feet? I wonder how many sizes she'll need to up her dress. And look, here's the fiancé bringing... another pizza. She's got him well trained, I'll give her that.

Then there's the cleavage brigade. I'm sure those girls think their teenage metabolisms are insurmountable but they've been sitting by that Italian gelato stall for at least the last hour getting cone after cone after cone. I mean, who eats ice-cream in the middle of winter? The one on the left has this whole low-cut spaghetti strap cami-top thing that is so out-dated it's almost sad. And they're all in desperate need of a larger size too. The last time I saw that much breast-flesh oozing out of a bra was my Halloween costume, only I looked cute instead of overfed because I wasn't wearing ice-cream instead of lipstick. Sweet Gucci mother of handbags that woman has the biggest ass I have ever seen in my life. I mean, honestly, how did she even get into those jeans? I'm twenty yards away and I can practically hear the sound of her thighs rubbing together. And what's she doing, why she's eating of course. With a great big smile on her face. Oh, hang on a minute, she's clutching her stomach, she's stuffed herself so full she's going to explode. Brace for impact everyone, it's going to... OH MY GOD she just unbuttoned her jeans! I can see her underwear and now her belly looks almost as big as her ass. What the hell is going on? Either I'm hallucinating or every single woman here is trying to eat themselves out of their clothes. Is there something wrong with these people? Or is it me? What is the big deal about food?

I can't even go to the office and get some work done. Of all the weekends for them to be fumigating. I could go home I suppose but there's nothing much to do there either and then I'd have to head back here for dinner later. Still, probably preferable to get some walking done, burn off my excessive breakfast before I start looking like the rest of them.


Adam

Adam and Zoe continued to wander the stalls and admire the sights. By keeping an eye on all parties concerned Adam was able to keep everyone away from each other to enjoy their own private tour of the delicacies on offer. Zoe in particular was finding every new discovery an unmissable adventure.

"Auuggh," she groaned from her seated position on the bench. "This churro is fuckin-a."

"Is it now? Do you want another? Maybe you could mix it with that Stracciatella ice-cream you liked so much, I'm sure that would work well."

"Ooh that sounds gooood. But I'm so full, I feel like a whale."

Adam just chuckled in response.

"What? Why are you laughing?"

"Well look around you. Everyone's eating, overeating in fact. Shirts are riding up bellies, swollen middles are hanging over pants, navels are popping from outie to innie and yet you, you don't look as if you've eaten a single bite."

For emphasis Adam poked Zoe in her still perfect abs, feeling nothing but her soft skin and firm muscles beneath. Groaning still louder at the vicious assault Zoe let loose an impressive belch before continuing to eat her fried dough, too preoccupied by her food to punish Adam.

"You know," Adam continued, voice dropping to a seductive whisper, "I think you need to keep eating. I know you're using magic to keep your figure perfect. I know that if it weren't for your spell your belly would be so bloated it would pop the button off your pants and send it flying down the concourse. But still you keep eating."

Zoe kept eating.

"Your magic only makes you look thin, it's not making the food go someplace else, otherwise you wouldn't be full. So why, I ask myself, would you want to be so incredibly stuffed? Maybe it's like you said earlier, you enjoy indulging in what others can't and the fullness is some kind of rush of power. Are you thinking about what your sisters would look like if they ate like you? Your cousins? Can you imagine how your mother would react if Isabelle turned up for dinner with a giant food baby? Or if Julie ate so much that her bloated stomach ripped her dress?"

Zoe ate faster still. Her breathing was growing heavier. When she finished the churro she immediately teleported three more to her lap from the nearby stall, and a bowl of ice-cream for contrast.

"Or maybe you liking the fullness has nothing to do with your sisters. Is it possible, I wonder, that even when you didn't think you were pretty you still denied yourself? Even though you thought you were fat you knew deep down that if you gave into to your stomach's calls you could be even larger, didn't you? Is that part of the fantasy, to not just be thin, not just be the most stunning, most gorgeous, most dazzling woman on the planet but to be able to eat without holding back, without consequence?

As Zoe's eating sped up still further crumbs of dough and flecks of ice-cream hurtled perilously towards the pristine midnight blue top only to be whisked away by magic to her relentless jaws.

"Then again, maybe this eating isn't just about your desires. Would it be arrogant to suggest that part of this hedonistic revelry is for me? You said it yourself, I'm the only one who could possibly resist you, no one else would be able to look away from your flawless naked body. So maybe, just maybe, the reason why you're so hungry today is that you know how sexy it makes you. No man alive can resist a woman who understands that pleasure," Adam stressed the word, "is about indulgence."

The last of food disappeared in a flurry of activity as Zoe wolfed down the remaining morsels so fast her hands became blurry pink shadows. Her rapid breathing gradually slowed to a steady pant as she mouthed as single barely audible word:

"Next."


Isabelle

Isabelle had been walking for several hours trying to work off some of the calories from her extended breakfast. Of course thanks to Adam exercise couldn't do that for Isabelle so all she'd done was work up an appetite. And just in time for lunch too.

"Arggh." The guttural growl of frustration was Isabelle's attempt at quiet venting in a public area filled with noise. Thankfully though someone was on hand to hear.

"Excuse me, are you alright?"

"Huh?"

The woman serendipity had placed Isabelle next to was standing behind a professional looking stall under a white awning with a tasteful logo but no name etched into the overhang. The woman was blonde, her hair pulled back into a neat pony-tail that highlighted her oval face, light blue eyes and wide, inimitably genuine smile. She really was rather pretty. She was also pretty chubby. Below the slightly round face (which admittedly showed no sign of a double chin) two decidedly impressive orbs vied for space inside a rose pink cooking apron. Though large her breasts couldn't hide the smaller but prominent bulge of her stomach, or the way it rolled around sideways, sticking out past the apron to form thick love-handles that rippled as she shimmied behind the booth. Standing behind the low curved counter hid her bottom-half completely but given the over-abundant curvature spilling over the table-top it was hard to imagine anything other than voluptuous thighs and a rear-end to rival a truck.

"Oh, I didn't mean to intrude but you look a little down. Anything I can do to help?" This girl is way too sweet and wholesome for my tastes.

"No, I'm fine really. Just a little bored." And hungry. Really fricking hungry. Again.

"Bored? How can you be bored here? Just look around you, the sights, the smells, it's intoxicating!"

"Yeah, no offense intended or anything but I just don't get that worked up about food."

"Have you ever tried to?"

"What?"

"Have you ever tried to enjoy food?"

"What do you... of course I've eaten food before."

"It's not about eating, it's about savouring. I'll tell you what, give me a minute to whip up a little taster and then we'll see if we can convert you."

"Okay." Sigh. At least this will pass another few minutes of interminable tedium.

The blonde began chopping and grinding and squeezing a litany of ingredients, none of which held any meaning to Isabelle, until eventually she presented a pair of mini open-top sandwiches.

"What are they?"

"A snack, one for you and one for me. Go on, take it. Good, now take a bite but don't chew, let the flavours mix in your mouth. Don't swallow when you answer, what do you taste?"

"Uh, shamon?" Talking with my mouth full, this is disgusting. Not bad food though.

"Good, now chew, slowly, what else do taste?"

"Lemon?" Okay, I'll admit it, this is good. She's still weird though, and... annoyingly peppy.

"Lime juice actually, freshly squeezed. Next?"

*Gulp* "Look, I'm sorry, that was really nice but I just don't know what else is in there."

"Well there's your problem."

"What?" I don't have a problem.

"Food is like music, anyone can listen but to really enjoy great music you have to do more than just hear the notes. Context and history, the subtle variations a conductor adds, I don't know... other music-y things, those are what gives music its power and it's the same with food. How can you hope to really appreciate food if you can't even taste what you're eating?"

"But that's..."

"Silly? Okay, what are you passionate about?"

"Fashion."

"And when people say there's no depth or meaning to fashion what do you say?"

"That they're... well played. Alright, I see your point. Where did you learn to appreciate food then?"

"My boyfriend. I was fresh out of high school, no college prospects, so I started working at a restaurant as a waitress. Michael was one of the junior chefs and he used to be in late on clean-up. He started cooking for me, trying out new recipes, he had a real gift. Eventually he started teaching me. Now he's the head chef at Le Blanc and I'm sous."

"Le Blanc? That's a nice restaurant. Wait a minute, I met a Michael who was a chef at a fundraiser last year, about six foot, short dark hair, really nice Armani tuxedo?"

"That's my man." Well he's way out of your league dear, but not mine. This just got interesting. "You know he's teaching a series of cooking classes this weekend as part of the fair, if you really want to learn something about food I can get you in."

"That actually sounds really great, thanks so much Sue."

"Oh, no ha ha, 'sous' as in 'sous-chef' a position in the restaurant. My name's Liz."

"Isabelle." And here I thought today was going to be a total bust.


Alex

"This is the first time I've ever tried a feta cheese omelette but I sincerely hope it's not the last."

"It's hard for me to say which is more remarkable, this beautiful display, the breakfasts made to order, or these pancakes."

"All my life I thought maple syrup was the natural pair with waffles but after trying your chocolate sauce and home-made cream you can consider me a convert."

Whew. Well, I'm not hungry any more. What was that, booth six? Seven?

"Henry, how many spots have we done?"

"Eight." Eight! "The guys in the edit bay are going to have a nightmare working out what to cut, these interviews have been amazing, they may actually have to extend your segment."

"You think?" I can't believe how well this is going. And the food is soooooooo good. Gotta take a break though, can't look bloated on camera. One thing I'll say about the giant breasts, they are helping hide the full stomach.

"Okay Henry, I think we can take a break on the stall interviews for a bit, let's go find the mayor, it's only an hour till our interview." Plus, I kinda keep eating the food after you've stopped shooting and I'd rather my stomach didn't actually bust my skirt in front of the mayor.


Isabelle

"Welcome, ladies and gentleman, thank for coming. My name is Michael but from this point on you will call me Chef, do you all understand?"

"Yes Chef." God this is ridiculous. Though I gotta say chef is even more handsome than I remembered.

"In front of each of you is a platter, underneath the platter are three samples. Each of you is going to try the samples and then mark your favourite on the card provided. Whichever dish gets the most votes is what I will be teaching you to make today. Do you understand?"

"Yes Chef."

"Then begin."

Okay, so what do we have under here? I have absolutely no idea. Okay, that's some sort of salad, that looks like lamb and that... looks like it has some chocolate in it? So what are we doing here? Well, everyone seems to be eating everything, guess it'd be rude to do otherwise.

That's not a salad! There's way too much flavour, there's no way that's healthy. Sure is yummy though. Yummy? What am I, 5? This lamb thing is bigger than it looks, I thought this was supposed to be a sample menu? Okay, chocolate thing. I really don't need to eat this, even if I am hungry. Oh crap, he's walking over here. Okay Isabelle, do your thing.

Isabelle moved with the unconscious competence of a person for whom seduction was not a matter of experience but instinct. She was completely calm, no cares or worries as she delicately took a sliver from the dark brown dessert. She paid him no mind, she was not performing for him she was practising her art. She took the flake of chocolate-laced delight and brought it gently to her lips, allowing her dark red lips to brush the cake as it passed them. There were no theatrics. No eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, no moans of ecstasy or orgasmic quivers. Her pupils dilated, just a fraction, and as her target walked by she exhaled just loud enough for him to hear. Perfection. Except...

He didn't even pause as he went by! He didn't even pay me a second glance. Bastard. Well, there's plenty of time left, I should probably make a choice. I'd quite like to find out what he put in that salad actually. The dressing was a little rich but with a few healthier substitutions I bet it would still taste alright.

"Okay, so the votes are in and the winner is... the Dark Chocolate Cheesecake." Fuck.


Alex

So this is what the organisers call Baker's Lane huh? I can't imagine why. Holy... the smell is incredible. How can I even think that? I've been stuffing myself all morning and now I'm hungry again, this is just stupid. And I swear this jacket is getting tighter as we walk. Maybe it's the way the bra's sitting, I need to find a bathroom and sort this out. Why would anyone want breasts this large? More importantly, why is the mayor meeting us down here anyway?

"Hi, I'm Alex Brinkley with Channel 6, I have an appointment to interview the mayor."

"Regarding what?"

"Nuclear test-ban treaties, what do you think?"

"Oh, right sorry, I wasn't really listening. Wait, Ms Brinkley?"

"Yes?"

"Oh thank goodness you've arrived, her honour was hoping to ask a favour of you." A favour? I wonder if this'll help my segment...

"Well of course if I can be of service."

"Good good, come this way."


Isabelle

"Excellent work. Now take the cookies and put them in the blender, you want them down to a fine powder. That's going to add flavour to our crust while maintaining a smooth texture."

He's coming past again, okay keep your eyes on the blender. Wait for it... Wait for it... Now!

In a single natural sweep of her arm Isabelle removed her blended cookies and poured them into the pan while simultaneously knocking the empty plastic measuring jug onto the floor behind her. She desperately clutched after it as it flew into the air but it snaked through her fingers and, triumphantly, she turned to retrieve. Exactly on cue Michael turned at the commotion to see Isabelle, bent over at the middle as she picked up the jug presenting her attractively round and yet beautifully toned rear pressed into the seat of her designer slacks. Isabelle knew that her sumptuous ass filled the pair to the brim and that her top was just the right size to pull up as she leant forward and reveal an inch of her smooth, tanned back and the slightest glimmer of her black thong. The poor boy never stood a chance.

Gotcha! Aw look at the little thing, his eyes are about to pop out of his head. I think... innocent is the best way into his pants.

"Um, sorry about that, that was..."

"N-n-no worries. It's just plastic after all, he he." Nervous tittering? You did get a full blast of my assets didn't you?

"Does this look ground enough to you?"

"Looks perfect, absolutely tip-top perfect."

"Thanks Chef." And a gentle smile to finish it off.


Alex

"Ah, Ms. Brinkley so glad you're here. May I call you Alex?"

"Of course Madam Mayor, your assistant said you wanted to speak to me?"

"Yes, I know you're scheduled for an interview now but I wondered if you would mind delaying it for an hour?"

"Why?"

"Well, I'm about to be one of the guest judges in the apple pie bake-off and Justice Long was supposed to join me but he's had to take his wife home."

"Is she okay?"

"Oh, yes I'm told she'll be fine. Apparently she had a little too much to eat and felt unwell. But, I now need a second guest judge and I thought you'd fit the bill perfectly."

"Me? A judge in a food competition? I'm not remotely qualified for that?"

"Ha! Neither am I dear but it doesn't matter. There's five judges, three experts and two schmucks who wouldn't know the business end of a rolling pin. So, what do you say? I'd wager it'd make a great segment in your story, and afterwards we could do a nice long interview together."

"Sounds like a wonderful idea, I'd be honoured."


Isabelle

"Good, now add the melted butter and the sugar and blend again." Yeah, because we need more calories in this monstrosity.

"When you think yours is ready it's time for the most important part. In fact, the most important rule of cooking: taste as you go. We're trying to make something delectable, something mouth-wateringly wonderful, and if we're going to have any hope of getting it right we have to constantly check everything we do, make sure every single building block is as good as we can make. So, all of you, grab a spoonful and taste. It should be sweet, light and above all smooth."

*Growl*

Shut-up stomach, you don't need food, you've no business being hungry. At least the blenders hid the sound. Oh great, he's looking at me again, guess I'll have to make it look good. He really seems to like watching me eat. Guess it makes sense for a cook to have a few food fetishes, those might be fun to try out when I drag him home.

"Now, taste each of your neighbour's efforts. Offer criticism where needed, don't hold back."

He's staring again. Definitely horny. Can't blame him really, all the time he's been dating chubby Lizzy he's probably been desperate for a chance with someone as sexy as me.

"Now, while that bakes for five minutes chop the chocolate nice and fine, we're gunna be melting it so the smaller you make it the quicker it gets done. Melting chocolate has to be done carefully, if you burn it it will be completely ruined so here's a tip: Fill a pan with water and bring it to the boil. Put your diced chocolate into the metal bowl, then place that into the boiling water. That's going to give us a nice, even, gradual heat and lots of delicious chocolate to make our filling."

This is just ludicrous. I honestly can't think of how he could cram more calories into this dessert.

"Now this stuff is over 80% cocoa, so if you give it a taste you'll find it a bit bitter but it has real depth of flavour. Of course this is a proper sweet so we'll need to add some sugar as we melt to find the right balance."

Of course...


Alex

Alex was seated at a long white table with the Mayor on her left. Past the mayor sat the other three judges, two men and woman. The men were remarkably athletic looking for professional food critics whereas the woman, who was somewhere around her early thirties, was as round as a balloon. Her enormous belly rested heavily on her lap and buoyed her breasts up under her chin, giving the distinct impression that she had been inflated with a bicycle pump.

"Welcome one and all to the judging of the Apple Pie Bake-Off. The rules are as follows: Each contestant will submit their entry to the judges, anonymously, who will then mark down their scores, privately, on the forms provided. Scores are given out of 100 and cover five criteria: Appearance, Texture, Pastry, Presentation, and Taste, each section being worth a maximum of 20 points. Entries are then ranked by the total cumulative score."

Oh man, what am I doing up here? I don't know what I'm looking for and frankly the smell of pie is making me so hungry that anything will taste good. I can't look like an idiot doing this, the camera's rolling. I could try and watch one of the professionals, do what they do. No, idiot, you'd look like a complete tool. You're not a critic, you're a broadcaster. Oh, I'll just keep an eye on the mayor's scorecard and eat some pie.

"Presenting, entry #1."

Wow that is a good-looking slice of pie. And à la mode too, is that homemade vanilla ice-cream? Okay, Appearance. Well, um... I can't even spout this bullshit in my head. Okay, screw it, Texture. Crust is light and flaky, I guess that's good? The base is a bit soggy but I actually like that. Oh this is impossible. Right, that's enough of this, Taste. Oooooo, that's what I was hoping for. Another bite I think, with some of the ice-cream this time. Mmmmm. There's a little bit of cinnamon, just enough to give a bite, the ice-cream's delicious but maybe a little too creamy? I'll try another... you know what there's nothing wrong with that ice-cream, it's a lovely pairing with the sour apple. Um... 17/20? What are the other judges doing? Snooty nose is still staring at it. The other guy is... chewing? Holy hell the woman just ate half that pie in one bite! Oh crap, gotta get on with it, just write numbers down Alex.

Hey, did I eat that whole slice?


Isabelle

"So while we leave our desserts cooking I thought we'd have a little competition, something I like to do with my team in the restaurant to hone their skills, a game I call 'Name that Ingredient'.

Fucking hell, this again.

"So, the aim of the game is simple. I give you all something to eat and you have to write down every ingredient you think went into it, we'll begin with... these." Oh look, more desserts. Shocker. This guy better be good in bed, I'm gonna need to burn some serious calories.

Okay, so I should try and work out what is in this... cake? So, let's guess without actually eating anything. Eggs, flour, milk. There's jelly too, damn it I mean jam. I always do that. Probably need to know what type... Screw it I'm done eating for the day, it's red so it's probably raspberry. Icing... what goes in icing? Sugar obviously. Maybe cream? Wouldn't surprise me.

"You know," Hey, where did he come from? "It's a lot easier to play the game if you eat the food."

"Oh, I know, I just wanted to see how much I could guess first. Uh," just eat it Isabelle, "Mmmmmm. That's really nice. Cinnamon?"

"Shhh, don't want to spoil it for the others." He's winking at me. Now I see why he's with the hippo, he's a bit of a dork. A hot dork, but definitely a dork. Well, I guess I'd better keep 'tasting'.

Huh. It was strawberry.


Alex

Okay, that's another pie done.

*Hiccup*

How many rounds has it been?

"And now, entry number #12"

Twelve! But I've practically eaten everything they've given me, God I must look like such a pig. I was so hungry though. And those guys take so long making their judgements, what else was I supposed to do, sit twiddling my thumbs while these absolutely amazing apple pies get cold? Then again, Big Bertha's matching me bite for bite, so at least I'm not alone. In the company of a 300 pound sphere of fat, nice job Alex. Got to say though that the way she eats is impressive, I hope Henry's been getting some good shots. She gobbled down some of them in one go! I guess you don't get a belly that large without some pretty serious practice, I doubt she's even getting full.

Hey, look at this. They've baked the pie in the shape of an apple. That's really cool, top marks for presentation for sure. As for flavour... it's good but the last few were better. The insides aren't tart enough to pair with the custard. You know what, I'm putting the fork down, there's no need to eat any more of this.

Even if I am still kinda peckish.


Isabelle

Strawberry Sponge Cake, Lemon Meringue Pie, Sticky Toffee Pudding, Chocolate Soufflé. Does this guy know any recipes that aren't sweets? And he keeps wandering over to make sure I'm enjoying them, I feel absolutely stuffed. If he makes me eat one more bite I'm not going to be able to hold my stomach in.


Alex

"#20"

How is it that these pies seem to smell better and better? I swear I'm feeling hungrier and hungrier the more I eat. Then again the two men spend so long on each sample that we've been here for over an hour and half. How many more of these can there be? Also... after this I've got to find a bathroom, this... bra... is... definitely... shrinking. This is not natural, am I allergic to something? I've got to find a way to loosen this thing without anyone noticing.

*Creak*

Okay, let's not move like that again. Creaking is not a noise I want to hear from my jacket button. Maybe if I take the jacket off? Then I could open the button and not have it explode off me. If I hang it up behind my chair I might even be able to surreptitiously unhook the damn straps before they cut me in half. What am I saying I'm on camera! If my newly enlarged melons aren't in a bra they're going to bounce every time I take a mouthful. And come to think of it I'm not sure how well my shirt's doing underneath, feels pretty taut. Actually, feels a little draughty... maybe the buttons are gaping? Right, jacket stays on. Just don't make any sudden movements, Alex.

*Clink*

Huh? Oh hell while I've been panicking about my breasts I've just stuffed another pie into my stomach. At this rate when I get up from this table I'm going to look pregnant.


Isabelle

"Okay, so your meals are ready, now you get to reap the rewards of your hard work."

Is he serious?

"I want everyone to cut a slice out of their cheesecake, stick it on a plate and bring it over. Everyone's going to try everyone's so there's no need to feel self-conscious.

Try everyone's cake? There's... 16 of us in here. This is a cooking class not an eating class.

The class assembled as directed and they all began trying the food. Slice by slice they all took a mouthful, Isabelle unable to take the minute crumbs she would have preferred under the eager gaze of Chef Michael. One thing was immediately apparent, no one had gotten close to achieving the same light decadence of the original dessert. Every slice seemed thicker and richer than the last until Isabelle felt that chocolate was pouring out of her ears. Finally Isabelle's dessert was presented for inspection. To her immense surprise the assembled crowd began letting out murmured moans of pleasure, even Michael seemed surprised. Curious as to whether she had actually cooked something edible Isabelle forked the final morsel left.

Wow! This is great. I don't want to blow my own trumpet or anything but this is better than Michael's. And just look at everyone, they're smiling. I never realised how gratifying it could be to see someone else enjoy food I cooked. I should take it home and see what the others think. Well, maybe this ordeal does have a silver lining. Okay, I've eaten a bit too much but it's not like I eat like this every day is it?

Alex

"And now, presenting #24, the final entry in this year's Apple Pie Bake-off."

Thank *bleep* for that, much more of this and this jacket would have exploded.

Just take a bite, write down the score and set the fork down Alex. No sudden movements, no unnecessary strains. Good. Now, let's inspect the damage while I'm safely behind this table. How inflated is my stomach?

That's weird. It's not empty but it's not exactly the bulging mass of corpulence I was expecting. Maybe I didn't eat that much after all. No, that's silly I've tried two dozen apple pies. I mean, okay most of them were just slices and the ones that weren't were small but I must have completely emptied at least half of the plates, probably more. And all the ice-cream and custard and cream that's come with. Come to think of it I should have exploded long ago. Even Bertha's starting to look full now, though she has probably eaten more than me. And everything I ate in the morning interviews as well!

"The scores will now be tallied and the results announced in half an hour. We'd like to thank the many competitors who put so much effort into this competition."

Gentle applause Alex, no jostling. And I should signal Henry to cut, we've got more than enough footage of this event.

"And now, please, a round of applause for our judges."

The judges filed off the stage and into the nearby tent where the Mayor took a moment to personally thank each of the professional judges before they left for their next engagement. Eventually, it was just Alex and the Mayor left.

"Well dear, that wasn't a bad way to spend my lunch hour."

"No ma'am. Thank you for inviting me to take part."

"Thank you for helping out, you were excellent. Actually, I don't know where you put it all, skinny thing like you."

"I don't feel that skinny at the moment."

"Nonsense, you look as though you've barely eaten. The benefits of youth ehh? Well, as promised I owe you an interview. Shall we say fifteen minutes and then we'll get started?"

"Sounds great, thank you. I'll be right back."

If I hurry I can run to the nearest bathroom, fix these clothes and be back in plenty of time. Finally, let's go.

It was a moment Adam relished, so long had it been in the making. Presented at last with the chance to fix her steadily deteriorating wardrobe Alex couldn't help but spin hurriedly on her heels to dart out of the room. Unfortunately for Alex even after her body had ceased swivelling her breasts continued and the sudden flurry of jiggling that ensued as her breasts, now two sizes too small for underwear that was meant to be tight in the first place, writhed out of the confines of her bra and, unrestrained, surged forwards to finally launch the jacket button clean across the tent. With the jacket now open the true state of her shirt's distress could finally be seen in the perfect outline of her extravagant bosom against the inflexible fabric and the glimpse of her abundant curves peeking through the gaps between the buttons.

"Did you hear something Alex? Sounded like a cork popping."

"N-no, ma'am I didn't hear anything."
venusderubens
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Re: The Power of Fantasy (WG, Magic) (1-11)

Postby venusderubens » Tue Jul 20, 2021 4:30 pm

Chapter XVI

Everywhere Adam looked, inside his head and out, he saw wonderment: feats of gluttony that he could only have imagined before he gained his abilities. All the days he had spent planning this weekend, all of the thousands of tiny details he had tweaked to make everything perfect had coalesced into a single, glorious reality. Adam sighed.

"Everything okay?" Zoe asked, looking up from her second plate of nachos.

"Yeah," Adam said without much conviction. "Everything's fine."

Setting her food aside, for the first time in some hours, Zoe waited for him to continue.

"It's just… I don't know how to explain it. I just feel… empty."

"Empty?"

"I'm surrounded by people eating. Your sisters and your cousins are each walking their own personal path to gluttony. Isabelle's lunches will never be the same again, Alex's breasts are so large she just burst the button off her jacket, hundreds of women around us are gleefully fattening themselves on the myriad delicacies I've brought together from the farthest reaches of the Earth and, quite frankly, the only thing that hasn't been a disappointment so far is you."

It was a sign of how serious Adam sounded that Zoe's first reaction was not to seek further compliment.

"So," she asked tentatively, "Does this mean you want to stop? Fattening my family I mean, because I'd understand…"

"No. No, no, no, it's not that. It's just, when I got my powers I swore to myself that I would never let it get like this."

"This?"

"To the point where the extraordinary things I can do become as mundane as breathing. I limited myself, never went mad with my powers. I made every single time I used my gifts, big or small, significant to try and avoid it, and it didn't work."

"Well, maybe not. Maybe you were too excited about what was going to happen to really enjoy it?"

"Possible I guess. It's just, watching you eat, the way you close your eyes for the first bite to savour it and then devour your food like it's the only thing in the world that matters," Zoe blushed, "I just wanted what I planned for the others to have some of that same magic."

"Well, why don't you tell me what you did, maybe we can find the flaw."

And so Adam told her. He started with Isabelle, how she couldn't understand her newfound need for breakfast or how no amount of healthy food seemed capable of sating her appetite. He told her how he introduced her to cooking, possibly for the first time in her life, and got her to take a class by baiting the hook with an unavailable man for her to steal. Zoe loved the idea of Isabelle dating a chef obsessed with fattening desserts but thought it even more amusing when Adam revealed that Chef Michael was a loyal boyfriend who unleashed his feeder id on the attractive women in his classes.

"So now," Adam concluded, "Isabelle is sorted for two meals a day of delicious food. And Michael was so impressed by her cooking that he invited her to attend his advanced class tomorrow. Of course, she thinks he's hitting on her. In reality, he's wondering if he can make her eat enough to pop the button off her pants. It's a long-time fantasy of his."

And then he told Zoe about Alex's interviews. The constant opportunities for Alex to indulge her appetite as she travelled from booth to booth. The constant growth of Alex's chest until her overfull DDs catapulted her jacket button across the Mayor's tent. Even Zoe had to concede that Adam's spell was working.

"Luckily for Alex there's a boutique just across the street from her that sells an exact copy of her suit, only in a more fitting size. She'll throw it on, along with a new bra, and then the weight can start going somewhere new for a bit."

"Wow… And you're telling me none of this seemed special? Because from where I'm sitting it sounds spectacular."

"Honestly, it was better telling you than it was watching it."

"Well, maybe that's the problem. Can you show me what's happened to Sam instead of telling me, let me see what you saw?"

"Um…"

"What? Too hard?"

"It's two-fold."

"Go on."

"Well, firstly, nothing's happened to Sam so far. She's passed a few stalls where people have been yelling to the crowd, offering them food, but that's it. Her main event isn't till a bit later."

"So show me Julie then."

"Well, okay here's the thing. I haven't been so much watching them as I have been… simultaneously streaming the collective output of their conscious minds."

"So..."

"So I've seen what they've seen, felt what they felt, thought what they thought. All four of them, all the time, at once."

"Of course you have," Zoe said with an air of resigned exasperation. "So the reason you can't show me what they saw is that there's no way it doesn't give me a major headache. Or make my head explode. Can you, I don't know, maybe distil it down to Julie's highlights?"

"I can try but stop me if it's too much."

"Don't worry, no doubt my screams of torment will alert you. One of these days you're going to have to explain to me why your brain is so much better at this than mine."

Julie's Morning

Julie was walking away from Zoe and Adam, a part of her still couldn't believe how lucky her sister was. Free from their mother, studying at Cambridge, gorgeous body and hunky, intelligent, caring boyfriend. Who kept beating her at chess.

And what do I get? High school boys whose idea of romance is feeling me up in the backseat of their car. Not that that isn't fun and all. But all they want is to be with a cheerleader. Of course, pretty soon no one will want me, after all what good is it making out with a fat cheerleader?

Well, a food fair is as good a place as any to reassert my willpower. I can't get any fatter, mum will murder me. I don't think anyone can tell at the moment, this sweater is enormous and the skirt's long, but I know people have seen it. I feel them staring at me when my back's turned. Is my ass really that much larger? I couldn't see it in the mirror but if people are staring?

Enough Jules. It doesn't matter. You had a little bit of a pig-out. Every day. For a fortnight. But that's it, no more food. Diet is back on and there's nothing this place can throw at me that will make me cave. And no more buying chocolate either, clearly keeping an emergency stash under my bed was a bad idea. I had no idea I had hoarded so much food under there.

What's that smell? Oh god it's pancakes. Adam made those amazing pancakes the first day he was here, man they were tasty. Diet Jules, diet. No pancakes.

"Hi, can I get two tall stacks of chocolate chip pancakes and a couple of extra maple syrups?"

Well done Jules. You held out for about five seconds, a new personal low.

"Coming right up. You eating here or to go?"

"To go thanks, I'm meeting friends."

I know I shouldn't care but I really hope she thinks I'm bringing this food to share with people and not just to eat it by myself. Maybe I should say something. No, it would look obvious, like I was trying to hide something. Oh just smile and say thank you, then you can find somewhere quiet to eat piggy.

"Two tall stacks, extra maple syrup in the box. Anything else I can get you?"

"No thanks."

"Great, well please enjoy."

"I will." We Julie. You should have said we.

This is humiliating, walking with these two enormous boxes of food. Everyone's going to see the fat cheerleader eating her fill again. Don't be stupid, they don't know you're a cheerleader. They're just going to see a girl carrying lots and lots of food dressed in baggy clothes that are trying to hide the fact that she's turning into a Goodyear blimp. I really want to eat these before they get cold, they smell awesome.


Okay, this looks like a quiet place, that smell is driving me wild. I'll just take a seat on that bench.

Wow that's a lot of food, why did I order so much?

Without seeming to realise what she was doing, Julie took her first mouthful. A giant forkful that left her cheeks bulging as she shivered in delight.

"Ohhhhhhhhh"

I'm so sorry pancakes, I'm so sorry I ever said I didn't want you. You are delicious. Screw dieting, screw cheerleading, screw coach, and screw mum saying I have to watch what I eat and stay thin and beautiful so I can be a model. I will gladly get as big as a bus if I get to eat pancakes.


My god look at this. What was I thinking?



"Okay, that's enough," Zoe said shaking her head as she broke her connection with Adam's mind.

"Too painful?"

"Better than the time I was in your head, some pretty sharp jolts when you skipped ahead through the story. Anyway, I know why you're not having any fun."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's being inside their heads. It's like you're doing those things, not them, only you know it's not you either. It's as though nothing's happening at all."

"So, you're saying it's too abstract? Too detached from the real world?"

"I don't know what I'm saying but that's the problem. Stay out of their heads, just try watching like you normally would. There's no need to go and make things more elaborate. You did the work, just relax and enjoy it will you?"

"Okay, I'll give it a go."

"So then," Zoe said picking up her nachos and magically re-warming them, "What do you want to do now?"

"Well first, do you want to hear about the rest of Julie's morning?"

"She just ate, like, two pounds of pancakes, surely she wouldn't have eaten anything after that? I mean she only gets hit by your spell when she denies herself food she wants, if she was full she wouldn't want any more food."

"She didn't. Until she met Henri DuPont."

"And who," Zoe said through a mouthful of cheese, "Is Henri Duponti?"

"Dupont. A Belgian chocolatier. In fact, he's probably one of the greatest chocolate makers in the world."

"Julie always did have a thing for chocolate."

"DuPont is an innovator. He spends 20 hours a day developing and refining new recipes for bonbons, truffles, pralines, chocolate slabs. Every now and then he sells one of his creations to one of the big names, just to keep the lights on, but the best he keeps for his private shop. He brought everything he had to the fair, it's an opportunity for him to get feedback from hundreds and even thousands of people in just a few days."

"Okay, so he makes good chocolate. Julie wanted one, said no to herself, ate two chocolates. The end."

"Oh no, much better than that. Julie was, as you guessed, completely enthralled by the smell of cocoa, but she said to herself: 'I'm supposed to be on a diet and after those pancakes I can't have even one of these'."

"Wait a minute."

"Yes?"

"She didn't deny herself a chocolate…"

"Go on."

"She denied herself any one chocolate."

"And so?"

"She ate two of every type of chocolate!"

"I told you you would get the hang of these curses. But she didn't actually eat all of them, not yet anyway."

"Why not?"

"Because Monsieur DuPont is a prolific artiste, he brought more than a hundred different treats to display."

"100… So what did Julie do?"

"Well, she started off by eating them. She ate and she ate and she ate. Put a pretty good dent in the bag too. Eventually though she got too full to keep going, luckily for her."

"Why lucky for her?"

"Because she was still looking for her friends all the while, she might have died of embarrassment if they'd seen her tossing back handfuls of chocolate."

"So how full is she?"

"As full as she can be."

"She's not that lucky then. Her friends are going to know she's been a pig when they see her massaging her swollen gut."

"Actually, she's not in any pain."

"Huh?"

With that Adam conjured a little disc in front of Zoe's face that showed her younger sister, surrounded by five other girls, walking along without a care in the world. It was difficult to tell whether her voluminous white sweater was just blowing oddly in the breeze or wrapping around a too-full tummy.

"Part of the magic on all of them, no matter how much they eat it never hurts. Just the pleasure of fullness and a gentle nudge from the magic letting them know they can stop."

"Why?"

"To keep them eating beyond what a normal person would do. And, moreover, since all of them will at some point do the same as Julie and eat themselves silly it would be pretty cruel of me to make it hurt. Of course the more they eat the more stretched their stomachs become, which just makes the next binge all the more memorable."

"So where are the sweets? The one's not hidden by that jumper?"

"In her handbag. I magically expanded it, so she could hide them."

"You pathetic softie."

"So far this morning, what with her two binges and then spending the rest of the day with friends who keep talking about how they can't go to this stall or that because of their figure, Julie has racked up about three dozen penalties for her midnight chocolate feast. Trust me when I say she's not getting off lightly."

"Okay, okay. I'll leave it in your hands. So, back to where we were, what do you want to do now?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I did just realise there's a gang of cheerleaders on diets walking around the fair. Maybe it's time I had a little hands on fun, so to speak."

The rekindled sparkle in Adam's eye was mirrored in Zoe's.

"That sounds like an inspired idea."


After severing the mental link between himself and his charges Adam was overcome by a bizarre sense of peace and calm despite the raucous goings on around him and he knew instantly that Zoe had been right. Julie and her friends were not that far away and so they decided to walk. When they found her Adam split off to let Zoe make the introductions and as he ducked to the side he couldn't help but admire how bloated her stomach really was, not that a person without magical enhancements could tell. It was a very impressive sweater.

"Hey Jules," Zoe said cheerily. Adam could see her looking at Julie's friends, sizing them up. They were pretty, dressed semi-provocatively and all thin and fit but not one of them could hold a candle to her.

"Zoe! There you are. Guys, this is Zoe, Zoe these are my friends, Alice, Mary-Ann, Roxy, Susan and Jo. I was actually kinda looking for you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, a few girls wanted some advice on applying to study in the UK."

Adam thought he could guess who one of those girls might be.

"Well," Zoe said, "Have you all had lunch?"

"Err... no," one of the girls answered.

"Well then let's go to the pizza place on the other side of the square, Adam's there getting some lunch. We'll eat while we talk."

"No offense or anything but we can't eat there," another girl piped up, "Way too unhealthy."

"You're telling me you came to a food fair and you can't eat? Don't be silly let's just get some pizza, a slice or two isn't going to kill you."

"Coach might though," the second girl muttered, to which many of the girls mumbled agreement.

While this debate was going on Adam was corralling the group towards the pizzeria with strong blasts of cold air, eager to hear more about this coach. He also continued to feed lines to Zoe mentally to keep the conversation going in the right direction. He could have read their minds to find out what he wanted but he'd had enough of being in other peoples' heads, easier by far to just compel them to tell the truth and think discussing such personal aspects of their life was perfectly natural.

"So," Zoe said as they all sat down, "Who wants what?"

"I'm good actually," Julie said, Adam watched her involuntarily go to pat her stomach before she caught herself and started playing with her hair.

The following chorus of "Nothing for me" was one of the more disheartening things Adam had ever heard. This would be a challenge.

"Seriously? You're not going to eat anything? What are you so afraid of?"

"We're cheerleaders," one girl said, "We can't get fat."

"So you'll get kicked off the team if you gain weight?" Adam asked.

"No, it's much worse," another girl said. By making the girls tell the truth they appeared to almost communicate with a hive mind.

"Explain."

"Coach is really strict about us staying thin. Every single week of the semester she makes us weigh-in."

"In front of each other!"

"Yes, all together in the locker room. Anyone who's gained weight gets the measuring tape."

"The measuring tape?"

"Her argument," another girl explained, "Is that cheerleading uniforms have to be tight but provide full coverage, so she has to have accurate measurements to make sure they fit properly."

"But all she wants to do is humiliate us."

"Tell me more."

"She gets us all together and tells us to strip down. She puts her scales right in the middle of the floor and makes us stand in a semicircle around it."

"Then she gives each of us a quick once over before calling our names, alphabetically."

"We step forward and then she has us turn on the spot, slowly."

"She gives 'constructive criticism' as we turn. Tells us where we need to improve."

"She told me my thighs were jiggling."

"She said my abs looked as soft as pudding."

"She has us stand on it, the scale makes a beep and the plate is always freezing cold."

"It takes about 15 seconds to get a reading."

"It feels much longer."

"And then the scale announces your weight to the entire room."

"More like shouts it. People can hear it in the corridors if it's quiet."

"And everyone knows your weight."

"She looks at her clipboard, makes this big show of checking whether your weight has changed."

"Like she doesn't have the numbers burned into her retinas by now."

"And if you've gotten heavier she pulls out the tape."

"You have to stand there, in front of everyone, while she measures everything."

"Waist."

"Hips."

"Thighs."

"Butt."

"And she always reads the numbers off in a nice loud voice."

"And if any of your measurements have changed she gives you 'special exercises' to get them back to normal."

"Special exercises?"

"Crunches if your belly's bigger."

"Squats for your ass."

"And you have to report into her every day until your weight's back down."

"And what about your coach? Is she fat or is she thin?"

"Thin!" all the girls said in unison. "Coach always tells us how she weighs the same now as she did when she was our age. 'Willpower girls, every time you see a fat girl it's a lack of willpower'."

"So, um… why do you want to be on the team in the first place?"

"Coach is connected, a recommendation from her goes a long way at a lot of colleges."

"Yeah, like half of the girls in her squads in the last five years cheer college football now."

Adam had had enough. Initially he had just wanted to mess with some cheerleaders. Make them binge a little, see what happened. Now he was going to help them. By making them binge a lot.

"Are any of you," he said, "Familiar with the principle of collective bargaining?"

Adam's question was greeted by silence and quizzical looks, even from Zoe.

"It's the idea underpinning labour unions."

Still silence.

"It's just that it seems to me that your problem is that if any one of you fails to toe the line they're singled out and punished. Your coach is controlling you through fear."

A general murmur of assent.

"So the solution is to break the hold. And the only way to do that is to break the rules."

"I can't get fat," a girl said, the word 'fat' a hoarse whisper. "She's ruthless. She'd spread it around the school, makes sure everyone knew."

"What if it wasn't just you? What if it was all of you?"

"What?"

"The punishment works because it singles you out, ostracises you from the school, but if all of you were in it together, if all of you gained weight, then what can she do to you?"

"We can't be fat! I mean, we're cheerleaders, we have to be hot."

Zoe took over.

"Okay," she said addressing the girl who had spoken, "Look at Susan. If she gained five pounds would she be ugly?"

"No, of course not." Lucky for her the truth was inoffensive else Adam might have had a catfight on his hands.

"And what about Alice or Julie? Say Julie gained ten pounds, or twenty pounds. Is she ugly now?" Julie squirmed uncomfortably.

"No."

"But you would be? A few pounds would turn you into some hideous monster?"

"Well no. But… I mean it's not healthy is it? Being fat is bad for you."

"So, all the girls at your school who could be thinner are unhealthy?"

"Err…"

"Enjoying some nice food once in a while doesn't mean you have to stop exercising or eating properly. And besides," Zoe continued, driving the point home, "No one ever said this was a permanent thing, you could always lose the weight afterwards."

Well, maybe.

"After what?"

"After your coach gives in," Adam said. "She controls you through fear, but she's afraid too."

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid of having fat cheerleaders. She wouldn't be so relentless if it didn't matter. If all of you defy her she'll have nothing, she'll beg you to go back to being thin. That's when you can demand she drop her stupid rules."

"I think," Jo said slowly, "I think he's right. I think we should do it."

"Yeah"

"Yeah"

"I'm in"

"Let's do it."

The girls all looked at Julie, who had remained almost silent throughout.

"Well Jules? You're captain so it's your decision. Are we doing this or not?"

Adam could imagine what Julie was thinking without ever listening to her thoughts. An excuse for the weight she had gained. The chance to have friends at her side in the same situation. It was a no-brainer.

"Yeah," she said calmly, "We're doing this, and we're doing this properly. There's about three and a bit weeks till next term, we all agree, right now, that we'll go back to school 10lbs heavier. I'll call around this evening and let the others know. What do you think?"

"Hooray!"

A few moments of awkward silence ensued before someone said, "So what now?"

"Now?" Zoe said, "We eat pizza."

"Pizza!"

Watching a half dozen girls give in to the hunger he had magically enhanced so many hours ago as Alex recorded her introduction made Adam supremely happy. That Julie was joining in was a delightful surprise, well not that much of a surprise since she was expected to gain weight with the rest of the team and hardly wanted to confess to having already gorged herself. The cheerleaders wasted no time in gathering large quantities of cheesy, greasy, carb-heavy pizza in a myriad of flavours that they could pick and choose from at their leisure. Though his magic had something to do with the spectacle Adam could feel the pent-up rage being unleashed, every mouthful was a stark middle finger to authority and conformity. It would be known as the Cheerleader Rebellion of 2013.

As ever though the star of the show was Zoe. Adam was the only person there who had any real idea of just how full Zoe was, of what she'd eaten that day. Even with her magic she hadn't realised that he had magnified her hunger that morning with the rest of the fairgoers. If he had only known what he had awoken. The simple fact was that there was no one at the fair, for that matter no two people, who had matched her consumption. Adam dreamt of breaking the magic that allowed Zoe to maintain her flawless waistline. He knew he could do it, possibly even in such a way that Zoe couldn't put right. The disparity in their abilities still niggled at the back of his mind but the thought of Zoe's stomach, swollen with what had to be by now more than a week's worth of food she couldn't bear to say no to… well, it took every ounce of restraint not to tear her clothes off there and then.

"Adam?" Zoe asked telepathically as she delicately dissected her eighth slice of deep-dish, "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Isn't this counter-productive? I thought the idea was to make Julie deny herself food, this is the opposite."

"Do you really want to talk about this while you're eating?"

"Use small words."

"Julie isn't like the others. She's not afraid of the coach, though she certainly doesn't want to be humiliated by her. She doesn't need to be on the cheerleading squad, she doesn't need the coach's word to get into a good school. Yes, this will slightly reduce the pressure to stay thin but she's much more afraid of your mother."

"Smart girl."

"More importantly though Julie isn't like the rest of your family. She has a very bright future as a fat girl."

"What do you mean?"

"She's like you, she loves food. Part of what I want to do with Julie is train her to just give in to her desires, sure she'll gain less in the short-term but the long-term will be round and rosy."

"Okay then, so what about these cheerleaders. They're hungry but that's nothing special. What's next for them?"

"Nothing. They don’t need anything. Vive la Revolution."

"I'm not buying it. You couldn't leave them alone if your life depended on it."

"Oh you know me so well."

"So?"

"Okay, I've tied their hunger to their weight gain. The more they gain the greater their appetite and the greater their capacity will grow."

"So they'll all be large as houses in no time then?"

"No, no. They'll all find an equilibrium weight in time, of course it's likely to be a good 20lbs heavier than it might have been. And if they do ever decide to lose the weight, difficult though it would no doubt be, their hunger will return to normal with their weight so those that want to thin down after this little social experiment can do so."

"I said you were going soft."

"A few more pizzas and the squad will be joining me. And their coach of course."

"The coach?"

"You didn't think I was going to let her get away with such fat-phobic behaviour did you?"

"To be honest I was thinking about ice-cream. What does she get then? Everything she eats turns to cake?"

"Nice idea but no. Every time she weighs herself she gains a pound."

"My brain's getting fuzzy from cheese. Explain more?"

"She's clearly obsessed with her weight. Bragging to her students that she weighs the same as she did in high school? It's probably the only thing in her life she's proud of. My guess is she weighs herself morning and night, just for the reassurance. So imagine her horror, her outrage, when she goes to weigh herself this evening and the scale reads not 107lbs but 108? What happens next?"

"I don't know. Stop asking me questions when I'm eating pizza. The more I eat the more Julie tries to eat. She's soooo full. I can almost see her tummy under the sweater."

"She'll weigh herself again. 109lbs. Obviously the scale must be broken. But a woman like her will have another scale in the house. 110lbs. The old scale must be broken too. But now, with 3 new pounds added to a body that, according to her, hasn't changed since she was 18, she's going to notice something. A slight pooch to her stomach? A new fat roll when she sits? Maybe she'll feel her arse wobble or her thighs brush together in a completely alien way. She'll conclude the impossible has happened. She has gained weight. She'll weigh herself again, desperate to know the full extent of the damage. 111lbs. The world as she knows it is ending. She'll go to sleep, nightmares of being the circus fat-lady floating through her mind. When she wakes she'll have to know if it was all a bad dream. 112lbs. She'll pull herself together, diet and exercise, her life-blood. But the pounds she gains as punishment for her vanity won't ever come off. She'll become obsessed, weighing herself again and again hoping to see a lower number, watching it climb ever higher. Clothes will become tight but she'll be too proud to buy new ones. One by one the trophies of her youth will be lost to her forever. Hips too wide and thighs too thick for her cheerleading skirt. Belly too bulbous and ass too jutting for her prom dress. Visits to the doctor will do nothing but add another pound as she's weighed and measured. New rolls and lumps and jiggles will make her exercises more difficult but she'll only try harder. Endless salads and fruitless fasts will go by with her waistline only growing, growing ever larger. And eventually, when she can bear the sight of the numbers no more, she'll stop weighing herself. Fat students are going to be the least of her worries come school."

"Huh? What did you say?"

"Nothing important, just a little glimmer of a happier future. Anyway, let's get going. It's almost time for Sam's main event."


"Why are we here again?" Zoe asked for the eighth time since Adam had torn her away from her pizza. In spite of the giant ice-cream sundae he had procured for her he still wasn't sure she had forgiven him for taking her away from her self-imposed eating contest with her sister.

"To witness Sam achieve her potential."

"But she's not even here."

"Yes she is, over there."

"Oh. Right. What's going to happen then?"

"He is," Adam said, pointing to a man dressed in a dinner jacket carrying a microphone who had just walked out onto a large stage.

"Come one, come all," the man began, "Test your mettle in the most gruelling sport known to kitchens, the Pie-Eating contest! The competition is open to all-comers so loosen your belts and join me on stage."

"A pie-eating contest? That’s your ingenious plot? Why would Sam… Oh. Dumb question. Okay that's not bad."

"I thought so."

"And every time they give her a pie…"

"Exactly."

"So she's going to..."

"Eat until she is quite literally at the point of bursting."

"But what if everyone else drops out? If she wins too quickly she'll barely eat anything!"

"I've got that covered,"

Adam directed Zoe's attention to the curvaceous blonde, wearing a t-shirt stretched provocatively across her well-fed figure, clambering up onto the stage to stand next to Sam and a half-dozen other contestants. In the crowd Adam could just make out her co-conspirator standing on tiptoes, grinning ear to ear.

"Is that…?"

"Yes, yes it is."

"You're a bad man."
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