Dreams are an Extention of Reality by Da Games Elite (~BBW, Magic, ~~WG)

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Da Games Elite

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~BBW (Multiple), Magic, ~~WG – When given the power to alter reality, one man decides to exploit his powers for a rather unusual enterprise.

Dreams are an Extension of Reality
By Da Games Elite


[Author’s Note – Hello there! I haven’t posted anything probably for over a year (too lazy to actually check), but I felt a rather overwhelming urge to write something like this, so, well, here I am. I’ve caused a mild stir of controversy with one or two of my stories, but, in order to appease everyone, I’m trying not to cause any problems here. This should please everyone and, if not, that stinks. Anyway…here you go.]

Part 1

The powers that be prevent me from actually explaining just what my powers are or how they work. Not only that, but it would waste precious time relaying the very nature of my magic to such a worthless audience as yourselves. You may claim you want to know the truth, but, let’s be honest, all you care about is the action, which is an understandable thing for mortals as yourselves.

My name is Luis Nathanial Integra Wingates Bethany Andolinni, but, for the record, I go by Michael. I really hated the names my mother gave me. Was she drunk when she came up with them? Well, what you must understand is that I wasn’t born a god, but rather became one over time, thanks to the powers that be. Once again, don’t ask, and I won’t tell. All you need to know about my childhood was that my mother was a skinny woman who hated the overweight and pudgy. Perhaps that is why the ironic twist of my adolescence was, aside from my discovery of my own abilities, the knowledge of my own preferences of women.

The nature of the human body is rather intriguing. Body fat naturally accumulates, so why do people go to such great lengths to suppress it like they do? What my abilities include is simply altering reality by making minor changes in the person’s life. I can’t turn them into Spider-Man, although I can make a radioactive spider bite their hand. I can’t truly manipulate metal, although I can alter the path the metal took to reach the point where it is now. In short, I can aim the gun, but I can’t control how the bullet ricochets. If that doesn’t make sense to you, then I don’t care.

Do you not believe me? I care less, but, for the record, if I tried to test my abilities, your minds will instantly be altered to accept the truth. Am I schizophrenic? Maybe, but if I am, I certainly enjoy this hallucination.

Anyway, my first test subject was a girl named Susana in college, freshman year. We weren’t friends, nor did I really care too much for her body. Too thin. Although we both enjoyed similar subjects, such as sci-fi movies, anime, the like, she hid her inner geek, while I remained outwardly indifferent. Why did I chose that bespectacled girl, a girl of 5’ 4” and 115 pounds, with slightly tanned skin and dark, silky black hair that cascaded over her shoulder blades? I don’t know nor do I honestly care. She was just there when I wanted to, sitting at the library, hiding a Japanese manga behind a text book, pretending to study.

My powers work as so: I stare at a person, and see their life story. Like a DVD, it plays before me, only I know it all within the time frame of a nanosecond. From there, I cut and paste which chapters of her life I want to tweak, and that will leave a chain reaction from there. I don’t care if you have questions about it, but I doubt your minds could comprehend such a matter, nor care.

As a child, Susana’s mother had the habit of feeding her food such as carrots and celery instead of sweets, despite the fact that Susana was never heavy in her life. It was all done proactively to keep her from gaining. Well, the way I saw it, that would need to go. At first, I eliminated the element of snacks altogether, to see if that would create a substantial gain. When the spell had been cast, Susana sat before me, a little softer. Her jeans dug slightly into her belly, creating a slight roll, but it was very slight. Her arms had grown softer, definition deleted under the soft thin cushion of fat. Not a substantial change at all.

Then I changed the snacks from nothing to chocolate, and, lo and behold, she changed.

Susana’s body expanded. Her soft belly pressed against the lips of her large jeans, only visible barely through the crack separating her sweater and her pants. She tugged on the hem of her sweater with pudgy hands, her knuckles and wrist now swallowed up by fat. Her breasts had grown, still perky and full, youth filling her cherubic, rosy cheeks. Her derriere had grown, although, as I noted, she wasn’t at all fat so much as merrily plump.

I could see where the problem was: she was a runner in high school. Not a good runner, but a runner regardless. I eliminated such a worthless aspect of her self, and watched her body morph. Now, she was fat, officially. Her stomach hung over her jeans, but, to my astonishment, she didn’t seem to care. Although her sweater did reveal a few inches of fat, she didn’t hide it. With every turn of her manga page, her quivering arm fat pressed against her large breasts, which were squeezed into her bra. Her double chin was evident as she smiled, gently.

I could have done more damage, but I needn’t have done any more work on her. Rather, I simply approached the girl, and began to talk. After getting into a rather pleasant conversation, we became friends for life. The Susana of this new world was a lot nicer, more relatable, perhaps humbled by her girth. She also was a proud geek, occasionally wearing clothing that sported her favorite characters. She would occasionally go as far as to, for laughs, squeeze into costumes meant for girls of her original size. Occasionally, just to be nice, I reversed the effects, but perhaps that was only so I could recreate them again, and watch her return to her rather blubbery self.

I had a friend, a friend who weighed in at 225 lbs. I wanted more. Not more of Susana, but more friends in general. I really did appreciate this beautiful girl, not romantically, but sexually. I never touched her, but I longed to. I longed to squeeze her soft arms, feel her large, gentle ocean of fat ripple over my own, swallow me into her. So I needed more of these people, more creations!

The next girl was rather shy. She was already a little chunky in the belly, always holding her hand over her soft, jiggling mass as she walked, but never noticed how her hips and breasts had benefited from her weight. I planned on altering that.

Apparently, she had tried dieting for years, always loosing ten or twenty pounds. Each one of those sessions, I decreed, ended in her gaining more weight. I didn’t need to apply a second alteration to her. The girl standing before me was massive, with a belly larger than any I had seen on such a girl. Her blonde hair, curly and thick, couldn’t cover her chunky shoulders or her pudge covered arms. Her arms were actually largerthan my torso, which was rather impressive. Her belly was large, but she covered it under a sweatshirt and sweatpants, despite the fact that her breasts and hip had exploded outward, like beach balls hidden under a tarp.

I approached her, and started a conversation with her.

“Hey,” I said, noting how she seemed to hide behind her beautiful hair, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” she said in a surprisingly high voice.

“So what’re you doin’ at the library?” I asked, trying to nonchalantly point out the location.

“Well, I was looking for a book,” she replied, tapping her rather plump chins, clearly uncertain on what to do with her soft hands.

“What kind?”

“A book by Clive Barker.”

“Like horror?” I asked, mildly surprised.

“Yes, very much so,” she replied, “Even the ugly fiends in his book are sexy.”

“I always preferred the gore or imagery of his stories, but I suppose you could think of them as cheap smut too, although you are sort of missing a big chunk of the writing,” sighed I.

“I don’t see them that way. I just wish I could be like that, you know?” she replied, before turning bright red. Turning on her feet, she stared at the shelf, letting her blond locks fall over her chubby cheeks. “Sorry! I must be boring you, spilling my guts out and all that.”

“You weren’t bothering me,” I replied, calmly, “How about I buy you dinner?”

“Dinner?” she asked, “What do you mean?”

“Well, you are a rather cute girl—”

“Is this a joke?” she asked, blushing deep red, sweat billowing down her forehead.

“I don’t joke about stuff like this.”

“What’s the catch?” she asked, cautiously.

“The catch is you eat in my dorm, with me, alone. I’ll order pizza, in case you feel awkward about being with other people.”

“Why would you think I’d feel awkward?” she asked, a little more open but just as more excited.

“You were trembling ever since I got here.”

This was true. Her convulsing shivers allowed her breasts to sway, slightly, allowed her massive, succulent thighs to jiggle tenderly, allowed her belly to quiver like jelly between her sweatpant’s band. Blushing even deeper red, she mumbled, “Oh, I-I see.”

“Don’t be afraid of me,” I said, stroking her soft cheek. I caressed her soft face, every stroke of my thumb across her skin sending deep serenity into her soul, until, finally, after stroking down her soft second chin, she relaxed, smiling slightly.

This was how I met Catlin.
 

IrishBard

womble/leprechaun hybrid!
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awesome start!

brilliant! you've made Micheal just seem so... manipulative and mercenary. This Roguish geeky god that is powerful, but squanders it on his libedo, makes for such an interesting read.

I hope there is more!
 

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