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Old 07-31-2017, 02:05 PM   #301
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Some day I intend to spend a whole afternoon re-reading the complete story and enjoying the illustrations.
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Old 08-04-2017, 05:47 PM   #302
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Thanks, guys. Hope you're telling him directly on his site.
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Old 08-04-2017, 06:05 PM   #303
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Default Will she or won't she?

“A dozen please.

“Let’s see.” Kelly had already identified the filled doughnut with the bright green icing (and the puff of whipped cream and drizzle of white icing) as the Key Lime Pie. She knew two of those were going in the box for certain, but she had a plethora to choose from for the others.

“Two glazed.” Always a favorite, there were plenty of people who wouldn’t want anything particularly exotic.

“Two chocolate iced.”

“Cake or yeast?” The college-age, ash blonde girl with the ponytail and the Pinkbox hat waited somewhat impatiently, but she seemed nice enough. Her name was Katie. Kelly figured they’d be seeing a lot of each other the next week, so they might as well get acquainted.

“Not the cake.” Actually calling them yeast…ycch. But people would want them for sure. Then came the hard part.

“One Oreo.” It was another filled doughnut with cookies and crème whipped filling with chocolate icing and a dollop of whipped cream in the middle. Oreo cookie pieces were scattered across the dollop.

“A Tootie Fruiti.” A cake doughnut with yellow vanilla icing under a coating of Fruity Pebbles.

“And a Choco Loco.” A chocolate cake doughnut, chocolate icing, Cocoa Pebbles.

“Five to go.” Actually, three.

“One cherry iced.” Easy enough.

“A Samoa.” Sure enough, it was under the section of doughnuts labeled Gourmet.

“A Hazelnut Mocha.” Another filled doughnut with hazelnut mocha crème, chocolate iced with what looked like caramel drizzled on top, a dollop of whipped cream, and almond(?) shavings on top.

“And two Key Limes.” Kelly was standing on one leg and bouncing her other leg in anticipation.

Katie skillfully flipped the long pink box (extra long because the doughnuts sat face up instead of on their sides) and checked Kelly out—a fairly long process, since Kelly had to present her with the tax exemption and Katie had to figure out how to record it. “These aren’t for me,” Kelly was sure to note. “It’s for the subjects in our study.”

“Well, too bad for you!” Katie smiled. “Maybe you’ll get the chance to pilfer one for yourself.”

“Maybe!” Absolutely!

Because Kelly had earned that Key Lime Pie doughnut. Not just this weekend. All semester long.

That morning she’d weighed in at 195.8. Eight weeks in, ten pounds down, now solidly below that 200-pound threshold she’d thought destined her to be a fat girl forever. She felt more secure about the future of her place in Phi Gamma than she had for months.

Lindsey Huntington, eat your heart out!

She thought of that Key Lime Pie doughnut as her reward.

I know I will!!!

***********

She didn’t.

It took an exhausting, every-minute-a-mental-struggle effort to earn that ten pounds that the freedom not to eat that Key Lime Pie doughnut was more freeing than the near-orgasmic pleasure she knew she would experience from eating it.

And then there was the mental refit it would take to hop back on the wagon after it.

Kelly felt the same freedom not eating that doughnut she felt on the House Mother. Truthfully there was nothing about Kelly’s weight in itself that bothered her. She didn’t feel it put her in some kind of spotlight or anything: she’d been noticed primarily for her "size" since she was 13. She didn’t feel heavy, or bulky, or encumbered. Even her thighs didn't seem to rub much, or cause the trouble walking without a waddle the way she'd seen some girls have to do. The way she'd seen her mother have to do.

Even the fashion—as much as she wished she could wear any look from a magazine she desired—didn’t bother her. She would always have to adapt to her body shape no matter what her weight, and if there was anything she felt competent at it was creative adjustments for fashion, given the resources. She’d done it most of her life.

No, if Kelly allowed herself to consider it—and she’d be completely embarrassed to reach this conclusion—it was almost entirely about acceptance in Phi Gamma. Almost.

But Kelly had been able to maintain almost smack dab at 123 for almost a year because of her largely single-minded immersion in cardiovascular fitness. It was where she felt free—free to enjoy her body and what it could do, free to achieve, free from the constant presence of others that she would otherwise feel the hunger to feel.

At 200 pounds there was only so long exercise could make her feel that freedom before it morphed into nothing but pain and effort and struggle. And though she was coming to enjoy her time with the weights more than ever before, the experience just wasn’t the same. It was the one thing about the weight itself that weighed on Kelly: it stole away her time of oneness with the House Mother.

Maybe she’d have that once again, but she knew it might be as much as losing another forty pounds before she could approach that coveted sense of freedom again. Forty more pounds! She figured she was game.

Besides, as popular as these doughnuts are likely to be with the subjects, I need to hold off eating one to make sure 12 is enough.

That one thought might even be enough to sustain her mental fortitude through the first half of the day.
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Old 08-12-2017, 04:47 PM   #304
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Default Consummation.

She made it all the way to Wednesday.

The doughnuts weren’t nearly as popular as she imagined they’d be. Was it timing? Too close to lunch? Too soon after? Perhaps they made for sticky fingers while working on the computer. But then you’d guess they’d disappear on the way out the door. Too difficult to eat them then? Or perhaps they were so frou-frou that guys wouldn’t eat them.

But uneaten doughnuts stared at her all morning, three days in row. Eight left on Monday. Seven left on Tuesday. Nine left on Wednesday.

It was inevitable.

The decision was instant. She pulled out the Key Lime and took a voracious bite out of it. Sour lime goo filled her mouth, so sweet her teeth hurt instantly. She didn’t take the time to savor it, or to swallow it, before pushing the next bite of doughnut in to feel that squish again. The goo spilled out onto the rest of the doughnut, so she twisted the doughnut to save it with a third bite. The doughnut melted in her mouth, but there was still too much for her to swallow without straining her mouth to get on top of it, swallowing what she could so she could chew it without it spilling out, then finally swallowing what was left. For all its delicious density, it felt like it disappeared before hitting her stomach. So she twisted the doughnut again and pushed half of it in the side of her mouth, then pushed in the other half on the other side of her mouth with her extended forefinger. She smiled as she did so.

She felt naughty. And relieved. And unsatisfied. It was sooooo yummy! And she’d done nothing to savor it and enjoy it before it was gone.

She knew she’d bought two. She knew the other had already been eaten. But she checked anyway, just in case.

No matter. The Bavarian Crème beckoned.

This one she slowed down and savored. Even if that wasn’t the plan, she would have had to: it was filled with thick, gooey custard, like a Boston cream pie. She let it ooze out to her cheeks, feeling the coolness against her teeth. The chocolate from the top smeared against her palate. She swished her tongue from side to side and rolled the flavors together, chewing the fresh pastry only as much as she had to, then finally relenting to let each bite slip down into her tummy. She closed her eyes and finished the last bite with a satisfied sigh, paused to feel pounding from her heart and the sensation of adrenaline through her gut that had just the faintest undertones of orgasm.

Wow.

If she was gonna find a way to stay off those, Kelly might have to find a way for a little more time with Wade during the week!

Or maybe find a dorm room of her own. Or take longer showers.

For now, though, it was a reward well worth it. She knew what she had to do with the rest of the doughnuts, just like she had all week. She swept up the box and zipped down the stairs a little breathless and tingly, then—just as she had all week—dropped it into the wide-mouthed trash basket outside the entrance to the psychology building.

With a cringe. It wasn’t just lust for doughnuts, either: she’d spent her check, and most of the next one was spoken for, too.

But not before rescuing a single glazed doughnut first. Because this was the essence of the doughnut. The bare bones. The foundation. If PinkBox was truly to be considered the standard by which all doughnuts should be compared, this was the one that really had to pass the test.

It did. Before Kelly reached the house. She never felt an ounce of shame. And it never once occurred to her she might care who saw her eating it.
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Old 08-14-2017, 02:36 PM   #305
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A short chapter, but a good one! That inflection point we've been waiting for, I think
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Old 08-16-2017, 09:10 AM   #306
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Tad View Post
A short chapter, but a good one! That inflection point we've been waiting for, I think
No promises. This story is the AMC of weight gain fiction.
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Old 08-18-2017, 05:40 PM   #307
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The dress was $160. It was the only one that came close to working.

Early Wednesday evening was a rare midweek chapter meeting, and an important one: pledges were to be confirmed for initiation, members only in attendance.

It was a surprisingly dry affair. As big as initiation was with its secret rituals and even more secret location, the confirmation meeting had no kind of ceremony at all. Lindsey ripped through the list of pledges in alphabetical order to confirm each pledge had fulfilled her pledging responsibilities.

“Okay. Rules and Regs requirements.

Ankita Archaya.”

Emily Dunn, the permanent replacement Pledge Coordinator for the missing Brittney Dorsey and the subsequently missing Kerry—uh, the one with the complicated Eastern European name—called out to affirm Ankita had attended each Rules and Regs meeting and tested sufficiently, and did so for each subsequent name on the list.

It was essentially the same for the other group pledging requirements. This time Emily’s best friend Kelly Johnson was in charge. She had attendance logs for all the mandatory socials, as well as the short stack of pledge books with each member’s signature—every one of which had been earned to one degree or another, with a chapter song or a silly dance, or something just embarrassing enough to not get the chapter in trouble for hazing with the university Panhellenic Council or, God forbid, the national office.

The only thing Kelly had ever required was a few moments chatting to learn more about the pledge, a hug, and a promise to share a drink or two one night out on the town.

Once Kelly actually started going out on the town again, that is.

The only moment with any entertainment value at all was, to Kelly’s surprise, the public report from the Bigs about each member’s individual pledge requirements.

A moment that for Kelly also turned into a moment of embarrassment.

Again, Ankita was called first. This time Ankita’s Big, junior Kerrie Lipscomb, stood up.

“Individual pledge.”

“She had to wear her sari to class all day and tell anyone who asked they were her pajamas.”

A chorus of soft laughter filled the room. The pajama haze probably stretched back as long as co-eds no longer had special dress code standards. And this one had a special personal twist.

“Ah! Embracing multiculturalism!”

“Exactly!” Kerrie laughed. “She did great.”

“Elektra Boyd.”

Two seats down, the other side of Marla, Brittney Shore and her long black hair and even longer frame stood up.

Of course! They’re perfect for each other!

“Individual pledge?”

“She hosted a Victorian tea party for us right across the street from the Aqueduct.”

More laughter this time. Perfect!! The Aqueduct was the name for a series of arches framing the entrance to the north side of campus. On the other side of the street was downtown, famous for its counterculture music and its punk-looking “townies”—a look, Kelly realized, was probably right up Elektra’s alley.

“You got pictures, right?”

“Of course.” Brittney held up her iPad and slowly scrolled through pictures while turning back and forth for everyone to see. Elektra had gone the full monty, with a genuine British tea set, Victorian tea dress, gloves and bonnet.
She was in character for every shot, even while Brittney and two of her friends, donned in silk tanks and khaki shorts, must have (judging by the phots) continuously lapsed into giggles every other second while Elektra served them.

The members laughed and twittered to each other. Clearly they all knew Elektra and her personality well.

“Outstanding job, Brittney. I expect no less from you!”

Brittney curtsied with her soccer shorts as she sat down.

“Crystal Cakes.”

Ohmigod! I have to follow that?

Kelly rose to her feet slowly.

“Individual pledge?”

Oh, no.

“Yes.”

“And what was it?”

“She was my chauffeur.”

“Well, of course she was.” That was just kind of standard for Lil Sis's--usually as a designated driver. Lindsey’s face got that sour look of hers and seemed to be saying, I sure hope there’s more to this.

“And she was—uh, she was my personal chef.” That part past her lips, Kelly was still worried it might be enough. Certainly her pledge wasn’t as creative as the other two. “On, like, seven occasions.”

She regretted it the second she added it.

A couple of sniggers went up from the members behind her. Lindsey’s eyes momentarily rolled, and she caught her breath before pursing her lips, exhaling, and drumming her fingers on the table once.

“So I take it they met with approval.”

It was healthy food you catty bitch.

“Absolutely,” Kelly answered steelily in defiance. “They’re the best. You may remember.”

Kelly sat down hotly while Monet patted Kelly’s arm.

“Bitch!” Kelly whispered.

“And then some,” Monet whispered back.

Kelly smiled, but she didn’t relax. She had one more Little Sis to certify, and she had to wait to the end.

“Jenn Wilson. Individual pledge?”

“Personal health food chef.”

“Right. That's it. So, Brittney’s passing out the program for Friday night. And if you’re rusty on your Lore you’d better bone up. No programs allowed. Your uniform is …”

White dresses. Tea length. No sleeves. Dismissed.

For all the confidence and optimism ten pounds had given her, this shopping trip sobered her up. She and Marla and Monet had gone to the mall together right after chapter, where they browsed the racks of the major department stores—Dillard’s, Belk, Macy’s, even Penney’s. They stocked up each Fall for this occasion, and Kelly imagined she and her two roommates would be at least shopping from the same rack.

It was not to be.

Kelly’s best chance was at Belk. There were three racks of white dresses, all ranging from a few size 2s to several 6s and 8s, ten dwindling up to 14s, which Kelly knew enough to not even try any lower. It was exactly two 14s, by the way: one for each style—except, of course, the one Kelly liked the most.

But that was OK. Getting into a 14 would be enough of a win in her book.
The three girls snapped up their dresses, but not before Marla pulled out a water bottle filled with brown liquid from her purse and spread it around it wasn’t the first time the girls had shared in a round of swigs from Marla’s bottle of Phi Gamma “Tea.”

“Oh, gawd I need this,” Marla intoned with her usual histrionics. “I hate shopping for dresses!”

“Oh, stop it,” Kelly answered after taking her swig. She definitely needed it! “Dresses are made for your body!”

“Not since I put on five pounds!” Marla answered as she closed the door to her dressing room stall.

“Five!” Monet answered from her stall. “I put on eight!”

“Crapsicles!” Marla had been saying that for a week-and-a-half. “I knew the 4 wouldn’t fit!”

“If only,” Monet answered.

If only! Kelly’s A-line 14 was too tight around the upper hips. Kelly knew she’d shed plenty of inches the past two months. And yet she still had never had hips like these before. She’d have thought they’d be the first to go.

Ten pounds of effort, all for nothing!

Kelly’s second dress was a quick fail. She was dressed in time to help the girls critique theirs.

“It’s definitely the best of the three,” Monet was saying. “It’s just this little spot pooches out.”

“That’s not the dress,” Marla teased with her normal tact. “That’s you!”

“Stop it, Marla!” Kelly retorted. “It is the dress. We’ll take it to Mommy tonight. She’ll totally make it right.”

“By what? Filling that pooch up with more leftovers? That’s how I got in this mess to start with!”

Kelly made the call to mom.

Five of you now? We’ll have dinner ready.” Jenn and Crystal were already there with their black dresses.

And though fixing Monet’s dress (Marla’s 6 fit perfectly) would be a piece of cake, the plus-size pickings for white dresses for Kelly in all four department stores were, er, slim. The only one, in fact, that accommodated both her boobs and her hips would need a complete rebuild, unless Kelly planned on looking like she was dressed in a used flour sack.

For $160.

“Look,” she told a very officious middle-aged store person, whom Kelly could tell was on to the truth of their Phi Gamma tea. Kelly explained her problem.

“No, I can’t hold it until tomorrow, Miss.” That’s when Kelly would get her next check. “You can put 20% down for layaway.”

And so she did, with her last $35, and left it behind for its rebuild tomorrow night. Because she had to.

*******

Dinner was damn good.

As expected, with four master cooks doing the work.

Kelly indulged. Had the 14 worked out, she might have done so as another reward for a job well done. That night, though, she was just too tired to play mental gymnastics, and everything looked so good, and it was going to be a long night.

Kelly and Elizabeth didn’t even start until 10:00 and worked early into the morning.

And all four dresses looked damn good.

As expected, with two master seamstresses doing the work.

A wide-legged Elizabeth balanced herself in front of the sewing machine while Kelly did the reaching and the measuring and the squatting. This time, Kelly noted with some satisfaction, it didn’t take anything nearly like the kind of exertion it had the last time Kelly had made Jenn and Crystal presentable.
Elizabeth was as clear-minded as Kelly’s recent memory could recall, and with the girls there, conversation was relaxed and enjoyable. It was about 2:00 am before the girls were gone and Kelly broached her problem.

“Oh, Baby, I wish I could help with that. But I’ve been way over budget on clothes myself.”

Which surprised Kelly not at all. Not to mention, Kelly imagined, all the wine.

“But are sure you checked on all your options?”
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Old Today, 02:26 PM   #308
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Hail, Phi Gamma Psi! Hail! Hail! Hail!

Kiyonna called it the Tantalizing Twist Dress: a V-neck that dove around her breasts, hefted by halter straps above and horizontal rouching below that provided the function and illusion of a midriff belt. Not that Kelly needed that illusion, as smooth as her waistline was for a girl her size. And good thing. Because what Kiyonna offered in first-rate plus-size style it often lacked in first-rate materials—as Kelly’s overworn and pilly wrap dress from that summer could attest.

And Kelly was in no position to afford shapewear.

The dress hung off Kelly’s wide hips without bunching, thanks to the numerous small pleats that created a draping effect almost to her knees, disguising the occasional and inevitable bulge of thigh against the skirt--unless Kelly stood exactly so. She did her best.

The only drawback was the open shoulders, all the rage in current plus-size fashion. They highlighted the pleasing curve of softened plus-size shoulders while hiding the bane of all women (but especially that of the plus-size woman): “batwings,” that inevitable sag of skin and flesh that bedeviled the confidence of all but the most toned of women.

Kelly looked around the half-circle of white clad girls and knew she looked absolutely stunning in the midst of an absolutely stunning group.

But they looked stunning. She looked plus-size stunning.

The thin girls—and that was all of them—were clad in contemporary A-line or sheath-cut dresses, just a step away from something they could wear at the club. They were efficient lines where Kelly was elaborate curves, and uncluttered lays where Kelly was all pleated and rouched. And none of them had open-shouldered sleeves.

If they wore sleeves at all. Bare shoulders ruled the day.

Initiation felt a lot longer than she remembered its being last year, when she was the one kneeling in the black dress pledging fealty to Phi Gamma Psi. Of course this year she had to stand a lot more.

And, this year she felt a lot hungrier.

She shouldn’t have. Kelly really had intended to jump back on the diet horse Thursday morning. But the late night and the early morning run to PinkBox sabotaged her resolve, and those doughnuts smelled so good, and that bright green icing with the dollop of meringue teased her with such remonstration that she truly hadn’t given Key Lime Pie the kind of attention it deserved.

A problem she fixed before she opened the lab—a couple of minutes late.

But that didn’t fix her. It was a good thing she’d—as was her habit—completed her schoolwork already that week, because the doughnut only whet her appetite, to the degree that her mind could hardly focus on anything else. Long after the green goo was gone from her tongue she felt the tang of limey tartness lingering on her palate, so that by the time she closed the lab that afternoon she’d snuck down two more—not counting the two she been compelled to squirrel into her backpack for her community college classes that evening.

She had to! Because the night before she’d just spent $68 on a Kiyonna Tantalizing Twist Dress. Plus $17 for overnight shipping. And wasted $35 for a tent on layaway at Belk. And that meant that for the next week she was completely broke.

And though those five free doughnuts brought their share of regret, it didn’t weather the remorse she felt in the middle of language lab: that she hadn’t packed away two more.

From there it was a late buffet with Wade, who was off on the first of three straight weeks of road games that night. As was their wont, those doughnuts and their empty Calories had melted away to leave undented hunger in their wake. Restraint was off the table for Kelly that night: somewhere you have to get real nutrition, you know!

And don’t forget, you went a whole two days on your diet even after 195! There was always tomorrow.

Problem was, there was. She didn’t even have excuses for herself, except for the lamest one there is: I’m gonna blow it tonight, anyway, so why not? This time it was two doughnuts in the morning. Three more, on the sly, by the time she was ready to close the lab down.

As he sometimes did, Caleb showed up right before closing to check in.

“Wow,” he noted as they were heading out together, gesturing at the two doughnuts left in the box. “They’re finally catching on.”

Kelly just shrugged and grunted noncommittally.

“You know,” Caleb mused as they left the lab and locked the door and the doughnuts behind them, “I figured if I just gave it time they eventually would.”

**************

Kelly’s feet had been hurting a while before that the last “Hail!” rang out through the basement (not in the Phi Gamma house, which curiously enough didn’t have a basement), and Lindsey—clad in a white pencil skirt with matching bolero-ish blazer and shimmery white silky blouse, set apart like the high priestess, separate from the masses, that she seemed to think she was—declared the pledge class full members with arms extended to the Heavens, like some kind of pagan sacrifice ritual. From there she stepped forward and became everyone’s favorite plastic local politician, stepping with a beauty queen’s smile into the black-clad ranks of the new members to confirm her blessing on each one.

As she did, the room exploded in applause and sorority hugs, starting with a black Gordion knot of mutual congratulation, then expanding and dispersing among the white-clad upper classmen like some globular chess board as the Little Sisters gravitated out for hugs with their Bigs. Jenn and Crystal squeezed Kelly simultaneously in a Phi Gamma sandwich, their eyes tearing with more emotion than she would have thought possible, given how much they had more or less kept to themselves throughout the pledging process.

“Thank you soooo much!” Crystal laughed.

At least she was starting to get the language down.

“You look incredibly stunning!” Jenn followed. She was starting to catch on, too.

“Thank you, thank you. You two look absolutely fabulous, if I do say so my—“

“Oh-my-Fuh-king-Gawd, Kelly! You’re a goddamn fucking knockout.”

It was Elektra, looking just as sophisticated in her own sheath dress as she sounded unsophisticated with her speech. Her dress, though providing complete coverage, revealed everything there was to see about Elektra’s form—particularly just how surprisingly thin she was, and how perfectly proportioned her understated curves really were. The black blurred out a lot of the sexual overtones, and the end effect was a lot less than slutty--and, pretty much, just classic Elektra. She pressed her wiry form into Kelly for a tight, full frontal hug that lingered a little longer than the typical sorority hug. Her breath smelled more than a little bit like whiskey.

“My God I don’t see how the guys can even keep their hands off you!”

“What do you mean me? Look at you!”

“Who? Me?” Elektra went a bit pale, even underneath the generally darker, really-I’m-more-of-a-townee-than anything-else tones of her (rarely applied) make-up. It was the one thing about Elektra’s appearance that betrayed that hyper-feminine wasn’t Elektra’s usual look. Kelly imagined the whiskey was probably all about drumming up the courage to step out a bit.

“Well,” Elektra continued, “I have to tell you, after all this effort they’d better not!”

Elektra made a Miley Cyrus face and rubbed her hands over her hips and torso, and they laughed.

They were still laughing when Lindsey stepped in unannounced and sorority-hugged Elektra.

“Congratulations and welcome, Elektra-girl! You look stunning.”

Elektra recovered from surprise and returned the same sentiments before Lindsey turned to give Jenn and Crystal much the same performance.

“You look beautiful,” she smiled. She even sounded genuine. “You girls enjoy yourselves tonight—but not too much!”

Then she crossed behind Kelly on her way to something else or other—but not before brushing her fingers first across the flap of Kelly’s obscurant sleeve and then the soft curve of her exposed shoulder.

“Uniform…” she murmured, where only Kelly could hear it.
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