A Change in Perspective - by Da Games Elite (~BBW, ~MWG, Magic)

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Da Games Elite

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~BBW, ~MWG, Magic - A young woman is given an opportunity to see different variations of her life

A Change in Perspective
by Da Games Elite

[Author's Note:]After a couple years of not contributing anything, I hope I can donate this little thing I decided to start working on. ^_^ Please, criticism is more than welcome, please tell me what you think. Thank you very much.

PART ONE - REALITY​

The scale read 112 lbs.

That was a pound more than three weeks ago.

As an eighteen year old girl living in the 21st century, a single pound was enough to make her feel more than a little inadequate. In fact, the gain of any weight at all was enough to make her feel, to say the least, disgusted with herself. Here she was, Emily McNaire, standing with a single towel wrapped around her, soggy from drying the droplets of water clinging to her smooth skin. Skin wrapped around her svelte form. Here she was, a teenager, supposed to be a role model of sorts to her younger sister Erin, and here she was, putting on weight. Maybe it was the wet towel dragging her down. She dropped the towel from her side, but the weight remained the same.

She glanced over her breasts at her belly, frowning in disapproval. She patted her soft yet concave belly, feeling the flesh give beneath her fingers. "Jesus, do you have to eat so much? Couldn't you just turn off your hunger for five seconds? Really."

She glanced over at the mirror, struggling to find a difference in her appearance. Nothing had changed. Her mahogany hair still fell over her slender face in the same fashion, her relatively small breasts still remained alive and, if Emily didn't know any better, as attentive and weary as ever, and her slender arms, torso, and legs still revealed a hint of muscle tone, despite the fact that her five foot six inch body rarely worked out. She flexed her long arms up over her head before she decided to get dressed. After all, standing around naked wasn't going to do her much good with a mere twenty minutes before the bus left.

After plucking a banana from a bunch on the kitchen counter, acknowledging her mother as she tended to her sister Erin's complaining about waking up before seven, Emily darted up to her room, preparing herself for the day ahead. She threw on a white blouse, tucking it into a pair of rather fitted jeans. After pushing her rectangular glasses up her nose, she sorted through the clutter of stuff on the desk in her room, tossing aside a novel, a bunch of DVDs, an Evangelion figurine that her friend Ryoko had convinced her to get at Otakon, until she finally found the note that she had typed up the night before. She looked it over while biting into the banana, smiling slightly. Never before had finer words been written than this love note. Nathanael wouldn't know what hit him when he read it. She smiled, dreamily, as she mapped out that sweet boy's features, his angular face, his chiseled features, his broad chest, and those dreamy brown eyes that matched his hair. Oh, she just longed to hold that man to her and never relinquish her grip, to just hold on and feel his body melt into her pores--

"Emily! Bus!"

***

"So do you have it?" Ryoko asked, meeting her by the front doors, hiding behind a locker.

The teen jumped in the air in shock, clutching her chest before rounding on her friend. "You jerk! Just had to go ahead and freak me out like that, huh?"

Ryoko giggled slightly. "Sorry."

Ryoko, as her name suggested, was Japanese, a raven haired girl with cute body. She was chunkier than Emily was, but also smaller. There was a strange thing about people where, even if they were bigger than you were, you would insist that they weren't fat. For some reason, Ryoko personified that concept. After all, her convex belly seemed to be, while not big or large next to many of the girls in their school, was substantially chunkier. Her thicker arms and legs trembled when she moved, tempting Emily to just reach out and poke them.

In fact, she did so at that moment, poking Ryoko's chubby cheek.

"You need to stop. You have an addiction to poking my fat!" Ryoko snapped, a smile on her lips, her eyes glowing in amusement.

"Sorry, can't help it. You just look like a bunch of ice cream scoops on top of one another," Emily teased. This wasn't true. An ice cream scoop was round and bulbous. No, Ryoko wasn't that big.

"So do you have the note?"

Emily nodded.

Ryoko squealed in delight. "Oh my God! You're putting it in his locker today, right?"

Emily nodded.

Ryoko, once again, squealed.

The two girls went out to the locker, grins on their lips. The grins were justified. After all, how many days did you confess to your secret crush? Emily determined the locker that belonged to Nathanael's, and, a grin on her lips pushed the letter through the slot of his locker. She grinned, her teeth gleaming, as she backed away from it, her heart pounding against her chest. She couldn't wait to see his reaction to it.

But she couldn't just stalk his locker until he arrived; she needed to go to class.

All day she wondered about that letter. How was he going to respond? Was he going to say yes? Of course he was. Why wouldn't he, after all? She had trained her body to be the ideal of masculine dreams, after all. Sure, her breasts weren't big, but she wasn't fat, right? She couldn't be fat, or else guys wouldn't like her, surely. It wasn't like she had anything against fat people, quite the opposite, she felt their chub made them look cute and endearing, but only when it was on other people. An ounce of fat on her, however, was rather, to put it mildly, bad. She had to work her way down from 132 lbs to 111 lbs (no, now 112 lbs), from last year, just to fit what she felt must be every man's desire.

To put it mildly, for a girl who enjoyed sitting on her rear watching anime all day, this was not an easy feat.

Finally, it was PE. There was only one reason why she liked PE: Nathanael. She didn't care for all the physical stuff she needed to do, save for walking, but she always signed in to work in the weight room JUST to see Nathanael pump iron. He was just amazing, a God amongst men, a--

"Hey Emily!"

Emily glanced over her shoulder, recognizing the voice as someone who wasn't Nathanael. Not that it was an unwelcome guest, but at this moment, she wanted to see Nathanael, and hanging around a guy like Patrick Batemen wasn't exactly the best option to take. Like she, Patrick wore glasses, rectangular in shape, a slender boy, like her, only with messy black hair and a rather wimpy body. However, despite not being the God in the flesh, Nathanael, Emily smiled at him.

"Hiya, Patrick! What's up?"

Patrick bit his lip, anxiously, as he averted his gaze. "Hey, uh, Emily. You feeling alright?"

"Alright? Yeah, why?" Emily asked, confused. What was wrong?

"Oh, because I--uh--you know that jer--uh, guy--Nathanael?"

"Yeah, I sent him a love letter this morning," Emily said, lowering her voice to ensure no one else heard them, "Why?"

Patrick blushed slightly, before shaking his head, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know how to tell you this, uh--"

"Tell me what?" Emily asked her voice breaking. What did he know? Did he know something bad? Something horrible? Something horrendous?

"Well, he got your letter," Patrick replied.

"And?" Emily pressed her throat dry, her tongue immobile.

"He was, uh, laughing about it in the boy's locker room."

"Laughing?" Emily felt her eyes begin to water, but she couldn't cry, not now, not here. She felt her throat convulse in her neck, but she couldn't sob, not now. She felt her lip quiver, but she wouldn't cry. Not now. Not like this. Holding back her sob, she asked, feeling the pressure build up inside, "What did he say?"

"He said, uh, Emily if you want me to stop--"

"Say it, damn it!"

"Alright! He called you a stick."

"A stick?"

"Yeah. No curves, no shape. Just a stick. And then he called you a dork, and--"

"He didn't call me a dork, did he?"

"No, he didn't, but it could replace--"

"What did he really say?"

Swallowing again, Patrick glanced at his feet, ashamed. "He called you a freak."

Tears now rolled down her cheeks as Emily fell to her knees, unable to look up. "No, that can't be right," she began to sob silently to herself. She had wanted Nathanael to ask her out, to love her. That was all she wanted. She didn't have big desires, or even large ones. All she wanted was just to have that boy's lips wrap around her own. Was that asking too much? Was it...?

"Listen, Emily, do you want me to get you something? Anyone?"

Emily was silent for a moment. Finally, she said, in a soft, weak voice, "Tell the teacher I need to use the bathroom. Thanks."

***

Her mother had told her to always try washing cold water on her palms and the back of her neck when she was upset. Supposedly, it would soothe the rest of your body. As the cold water poured over her skin, she couldn't help but still feel tears roll down her cheeks. Why did she even bother giving him that stupid letter, anyway? She should've known better, right? She should've known what to expect. Boys just treated her like garbage anyway. It wasn't like anyone liked her. She had thought losing weight and being this way would make boys run, but apparently she was mistaken.

She ran her hands over her beat red face as she sobbed, her tears covering her glasses in liquid.

"Looks like you need a little help."

Emily glanced up, sniffing to herself, as she saw a girl she had never seen before appear before her. She was dressed all in black, with a black vest, a black gown, black mascara over white foundation, her black locks trailing down to reach her black gloved hands dangling by her black belts, right down to her black boots that were strapped up to her knees. She was a slender girl, lithe and almost ghostlike. Emily felt goose bumps rise along her arms and neck just by seeing this stranger.

"Who're you?"

The girl giggled, her black lips curling into an amused grin. "A Genie, one could say. Or perhaps an angel. Doesn't matter."

"What's your name?" Emily asked, in a shaky, unnerved voice. Her knees were trembling.

"Or maybe I'm a Goddess. Oh, my name? I'm Elizaberta de Letrouche Belle, or just Belle for short. Or Liz. Or even De, if you want to stretch things. But that matters very little. What you need to know, however, is that I'm here to offer you a favor."

"A favor?"

"Yup, all free of charge. We'd like for you to try, shall we say, a trial service to five different visions of the world."

"What?" Visions of the world? What was this girl babbling? She was on drugs. She had to be. After all, who the hell would dress up in that crazy get-up in the middle of spring? Wasn't she boiling in that dress? And furthermore, what did she mean by all that talk? Was she implying she had magical powers of some kind? Visions? Of another world? Alternate realities? What was she spewing from her pothole, anyway?

"Tell me, Miss McNaire, and yes I know what your name is, what is your deepest desire? To get Nathanael?"

Emily didn't bother asking how she knew her name. Probably asked around, or was stalking her. Yeah, a stalker. There was a hotline for people like her. Nevertheless, fear compelled her to nod.

"So, for each vision, we will adapt reality so that you may be able to see the world from a different lens. Seeing as how Nathanael saw you as, shall we say, unfit for him, do you wish to be his ideal woman physically or mentally?"

Emily was about to say both when something her mother said rang out in her ear, something about never changing your personality for another man. Physically would have to do. "Physically."

After all, this was just stupid crap anyway, right?

"Alright, your wish is my command. I guess we need to get the balls going, so, if you don't mind, we might as well start...now!" The gothic Lolita darted forward at a blinding speed. Before Emily could so much as flinch, the girl slammed her knuckles across her chin, throwing her against the wall. She bounced back, her head spinning, before she fell against the floor, the world fading to black. The last thing she saw was the girl's feet leave the ground as she levitated in the air, enveloped by a silver aura, and then all was dark.
 

Da Games Elite

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Part Two - The First Variation


Emily's eyes slowly opened, with the energy and vigor of a child who had just awoken from a coma that had lasted several decades. She slowly ran her fingers through her hair, unable to truly focus at all as the world slowly came into focus around her. The ceiling above her was awfully familiar, yes, it was her room, the room she had lived in all her life! As memories surged through her brain, she remembered that Gothic Lolita, that girl who had punched her across the face! Had she been beaten to a pulp and had slept into the next day? How did she find her way into her room? Did one of her friends call for help, or whoever discovered her body first?

She slowly rose into a sitting position, finding it rather difficult to do so at first. She felt warmth, but she couldn't understand why, exactly. After all, why was she warm, this gentle heat emanating from her flesh? Was it, perhaps, that she had a fever? Why did she feel as though the warmth was consuming her legs, her arms, her torso, her face? It was such a strange sensation, and yet subtle. It was awfully subtle, almost nonexistent.

She pushed herself up off of her bed, finding that she lost balance as she rose to her feet, stretching slightly as she did so. She noticed, with mild confusion, that she could feel her thighs rub against one another. What? How was that possible? Thighs rub together? Her thighs didn't rub together? Surely her legs must be buckling inward or something. She spread her legs apart, and the sensation disappeared, but she found, as she walked, the sensation was forced, unnatural. She returned to her normal standing position, and, upon her legs colliding with one another, she noticed her flesh actually rippled.

"What the hell?" Emily mumbled to herself, folding her arms over her chest.

Her chest was bigger than she remembered it.

She glanced down at her breasts, cupping them in her hands. This was strange. They actually filled her hands, no, overflowed in them. Her fingers were almost swallowed up in her soft breasts. How big were these things, anyway? However, she noticed, as she glanced down, that her fingers looked thicker than usual, almost sausage like.

Additionally, her belly was poking out beyond her breasts.

She ran her hands over her now soft abdomen. She pressed her fingers into it, feeling her hand almost sink into her fat. Fat? What was going on? She felt her heart race as she darted toward the bathroom, running into it, to stare at herself in the mirror.

She didn't scream, nor did she make any sounds at all to indicate her shock. Surely this was just a dream, a stupid, idiotic dream she was having. Regardless, that didn't change the fact that she looked like a butter ball. She had been, at her heaviest, over 130 lbs, but right now she was far beyond that. Her belly rested on her wide hips like a giant scoop of melted ice cream, trembling with every step she made, rippled and rather creamy looking with her pale skin. She drew up her shirt to examine the genuine paleness of it all, how there weren't any stretch marks, how the belly didn't look like it had suddenly emerged overnight, but rather that it had been cultivated over a long stretch of time.

Her plump arms trembled with each raspy gasp of air she exhaled, her knuckles and wrists swallowed up in marshmallow-y fat. Her breasts had expanded, forcing her arms apart slightly. How did she miss that? Her thighs were blubbery and thick, rather chunky and, in her eyes, grotesque. Her round face and subtle double chin were still rather beautiful, but she was just a ball of blubber now. She had put so much work on her body, and it had been ruined over night.

Ruined!

She wanted to pull on her hair, scream, but she didn't. She glanced over at the scale, and stepped on it, delicately. After struggling to look over her belly, she determined her weight: 204 lbs.

She sighed, in resignation. Surely people didn't gain nearly a hundred pounds overnight. No, no reason to overreact yet. Either this was a strange dream, which it probably was, or that Goth girl had something to do with this. It couldn't be coincidence that she woke up in a fat girl's body. She wondered, momentarily, what her parents were going to say when they saw her. Surely, though, they had to have seen her already. Maybe they had a mouthful for her when she went downstairs. She could promise herself she wouldn't be receiving pancakes this morning.

In the hallway, however, a photograph caught her eye. It was a family portrait, one she recognized as one she had been dragged to a few weeks ago. However, there was one major difference: Emily was a butterball in this too. Had that Gothic girl somehow changed reality, changed history?

If so, why?

She had wished to be Nathaniel's ideal woman, right?

Was this it?

A butterball?

***

"Hey, Emily!" Ryoko cheered, poking her friend in her plump, syrupy belly upon arrival at school.

"Ryoko, I've been going through a panic attack, tod--will you stop poking me?"

Ryoko, who had been fiercely poking Emily's flab, drew her hands behind her back, blushing deep red. "Sorry! Just too hard to resist."

Now Emily knew how Ryoko felt. Having someone remind her of just how pudgy she was wasn't a good way to start a day like this. "Hey, have you seen Nathaniel?"

"Oh, you two gonna have a PDA again?" Ryoko asked, her lips curling into an acknowledging grin.

"PDA?" It took Emily to remember what that stood for: Public Display of Affection. Namely kissing. Which meant that in this world Emily and Nathaniel were dating! She grinned to herself as she said, softly, her lips curling into a grin, "Maybe."

Ryoko smirked, poking her elbow into Emily's hips, or what would have been her hips had they not been swallowed up in chub. "Right this way, m'lady!" Ryoko grabbed Emily by the pudgy forearm, and dragged her down the hall, eventually stopping, after several twists and turns, at Nathaniel's locker.

It was just like any ordinary locker, except that beautiful man was standing before it, oh that sexy God! His ripped muscles, his glorious blonde highlights against mahogany hair! He was just to die for! She felt her heart beat as the God before her extended his hand, tempting her. She accepted it, as that man said, softly, "Hey, look who's looking like a Princess again."

Emily blushed, deep red, her freckles standing out on end as she felt warmth fill her entire body, her stomach knotting underneath her layers of blubber. "Oh, uh, thanks," she twirled a lock of her hair around her index finger as Nathaniel pulled her closer, closer, until their lips locked.

***

Gym was torture for her now. The extra flab made working out even more difficult. The only reason she was even in weight room was to see Nathaniel, to occasionally serve as a means to help the man workout, occasionally pressing her weight against the bar of the bench press, which Emily initially thought was awfully foolish of the boy in case Emily's sweaty hands slipped or the weight proved too much for him, but she digressed. In fact, as the period came to an end, she found herself almost enjoying everything.

Except she couldn't find Patrick anywhere.

"Hey, do you know where Patrick is?" Emily finally asked.

"Who?"

"Patrick, you know, my friend?"

It took a minute or two for Nathaniel to realize whom Emily was speaking of. He snapped his fingers before saying, nonchalantly, "Oh, that nerd."

Emily's face flushed deep red. Patrick wasn't a nerd, not really. No more than she was, really. She liked anime, comics, games, stuff like that, and so did Patrick. So did Ryoko. There wasn't anything wrong with that, right?

Right?

"You know, Emily, why do you hang out with those freaks, anyway?" Nathaniel asked.

"They're nice people," Emily replied, laughing nervously.

"Really?" Nathaniel asked, amused, "I'm not gonna argue, babe, but look, they just need to get their nose out of those comic books more and look at the real world."

"Real world?"

"Yeah, like sports and stuff."

Emily frowned, slightly. She had what she wanted, right? Nathaniel was her boyfriend and everything. Things should be great and joyous, so why was she feeling so pissed off, so irate, so disappointed with the reality she had been given? She clenched her chubby fists, her nails biting into her palm, before she relaxed, slowly. Perhaps this was just one of Nathaniel's imperfections. Everyone had some. Maybe Emily could change him, make him better. Yeah, that would be a good idea. She didn't want to change her personality for him, just like--

The Gothic Lolita said she'd give her visions.

More than one.

Could that mean that tomorrow, she'd wake up in another world, with another wish granted?

***

Emily remained cross legged in her bed, waiting patiently. Eleven fifty-two. Eleven fifty-three. Eleven fifty-four. She counted down the minutes until midnight, when surely that Goth girl would return. Finally, at midnight on the dot, a shadow extended from the depths of the darkness, and out rose a woman who looked very much like that Lolita from the day before, save for one major difference.

"Eating for two, I see?" Emily asked, curiously.

The Goth's body had expanded her belts and clothing now restraining dozens of pounds of fat, all being compressed within her gown and corset. The straps on her boots were strained to nearly breaking point as she bowed over slowly, her metal belt buckles groaning from the effort to remain intact. "My body evolves with your own, you see. There is nothing that happens to you that doesn't happen to me."

"I see," Emily replied, stroking her plump double chin, "Well, listen, I'm just curious: can you tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Certainly," she replied, her lips curling, her cheeks dimpling, "You've been granted a vision, and now I will take this vision, and grant you a second change. The first change will not be altered, nor can it be reversed."

"What do you mean? You mean I'm stuck as a 200 lb chubber?" Emily asked, not aggressively, but with a hint of resignation. She didn't mind being fat for a temporary time span, and, despite feeling ugly in this form, worse things could happen, like being an amputee victim.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Although we could fatten you up more if circumstances call for it."

"No, that's fine."

"So how was your day with Nathaniel?" the Goth girl asked, slowly levitating into the air, her chubby legs folded.

Emily sighed, glancing aside. "Not too great. He's kind of a jerk."

"Not satisfied with your wish? How about another?"

"Can we change Nathaniel into a nice person?" Emily asked.

"I could. But define nice."

"Knowing you, you'd probably turn him into a pansy, taking everything to the extremes. Well, look, how about this: can you make him more, shall we say, accepting of my friends this time?"

"How so?"

"Well, just make him like them, alright?"

The Goth girl grinned, maliciously, "Alright. Now, lemme deck ya and--"

"No thanks. I'll go to sleep my way, thank you very much." With that, Emily drew the covers up to her pudgy little chin, closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
 

IrishBard

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this story is a real little gem. the Character of Belle is great and It should be really interesting to see the story develop. four more worlds to go...

this should be fun!
 

tarquin

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Good Story. And very well written! thanks, looking forward to the rest.
 

FAelitist

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If you don't think anybody really cares if you continue this story...you're wrong! lol this is really good so far
 

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