Every Glance You Take - -Snorri Sturluson (~BBW, Magic, ~XWG )

Discussion in 'Fantasy/Science Fiction Archive' started by Snorri Sturluson, Dec 19, 2006.

  1. Dec 19, 2006 #1

    Snorri Sturluson

    Snorri Sturluson

    Snorri Sturluson

    Keeper of Hugin and Munin

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    ~BBW, Magic, ~XWG - A winsome lass discovers her hearts desire

    Every Glance You Take
    By Snorri Sturluson

    (A tale inspired by "Larger Every Day")

    Sara Saab was a girl, a little thin for her age, who was in search of something. In a world where there are answers to questions yet unasked, her seeking proved particularly fruitless, as she knew not what it was she sought.

    From the age of fifteen she took walks alone, ranging across the village of Linkoping from the city dump on the eastern most road out of town, to Parkland Heights in the west. Every day she explored a little more; an abandoned house one day, a new trash pile the next (she found a nice bike that way once), the stores downtown, the community parks, and, in general, everything.

    Linkoping was a perfect town for such wanderings, as it was a city whose number of trees out distanced its population by a matter of factors.

    It was when these walks began, when she was fifteen, that Sara's sister, Besk, had left the house and joined the military. It was the result of a desire from infanthood, on her sister’s part, and before leaving she told Sara to seek her own desire and pursue it. So she did, seeking to discover her desire until knowing her desire became a desire in itself.

    Her parents had left for a vacation in Hawaii, to celebrate their anniversary, and left their remaining daughter home alone. On the day they left, Sara took yet another walk, this time strolling past stores downtown, many of which had been closed since before she could remember, or cared to remember, when.

    Curiously, along that line of boarded up buildings that had prospered in a past that dusted the imagination there was a single door open, one set of windows cleared of the aged and rotting wood that obscured them. Devices of unimaginable purpose were put on display, above which a sign was set in unnerving font. With letters not quite shaped properly, it read "Answer Shop."

    Wondering what such a place might be about, Sara stepped inside, assuming that if the door was open then so was the business. Like the display, the innards of the place seemed not quite right. Shelves filled the floor space, towering over her head, and each seemed to tip as she passed, threatening to fall upon her. Though she hadn't noticed at once, when she entered she began to feel as though someone were whispering to her, just out of ear shot.

    Nothing seemed right; indeed, even the shadows did not match the shape of the objects that cast them. Sara turned to leave, but behind her in the maze of shelves stood a little girl, no older than three by the looks of her, yet likewise slightly off. Looking down at her, Sara noticed that she had neither whites nor pupils in her eyes; all was black.

    "'scuse me." Sara muttered as she tried to step past, but the child caught her leg and held her fast.

    Speaking in a voice more befitting aged women with one foot and a toe in the grave, the girl asked, "What answers do you seek, young one?"

    "I'm sorry? Are your parents the owners?"

    "In a manner of speaking. Please, tell me young one, what answers do you seek?"

    "Nothing, really, I was just curious as to what had moved in here. The place has been vacant for quite some time." Slightly creeped out by the kid, Sara added, "But I should be going."

    As if with lungs decayed, the child laughed and pulled her along the rows of shelves. "Nothing? Oh deary, you know better than that, and it is far harder to fool me than it is to fool yourself."

    She would have struggled against the girl's grip, which had now moved to her arm, but found her far stronger than even her father's firm guide. All thoughts of this were dissipated when she realized that the store's interior was far too large for its exterior. They had walked far enough down the rows of shelves to have come out the back of the store, but still it stretched before them.

    At one point Sara saw an old woman and an immensely fat woman walking down other rows, but she was forced on before she could figure out why that woman looked familiar. Though not sure, Sara could have sworn that she could make out the curvature of the earth down the rows, but she was forced onward before she could be sure.

    Without a signal, the girl stopped before a shelf that seemed just like any of the others. In a twist of dimensions, she reached to the top shelve, where Sara could have hardly reached even with her greater height; yet when the little two year old reached up, it looked perfectly the right size, and only offended Sara's sense of proportion when taken in context. From the top the girl pulled down a rather large frame.

    "So you do not know what you desire?" Well off her guard, Sara nodded in response.

    "And you desire to know your heart's desire?" Again Sara nodded.

    The little girl reached up, again distorting Sara's sense of proportion, and placed the frame over her. Bending down, the girl encircled Sara with the frame and brought it to the ground. She signaled for Sara to step away, and she did. There, where she had been standing, was now a painting in the frame. Twisting her next to see the subject of the painting, Sara realized it was herself standing in the store.

    With the breath of a mausoleum, the girl explained, "You will know and become your heart's desire as often as you look upon this.” She thrust the object into Sara’s hand and pointed behind her, “There is the door.”

    True enough, when she turned around Sara saw that the door was there, closer than when she had first seen the girl, despite the fact that they had walked too far into the store for it to be so close. More than a little perturbed by the series of events, Sara hurried out and down the street.

    At the corner she turned around to look back. The girl was outside the shop, watching her. Even from that distance, her black eyes were clearly visible. Glancing down at the picture in her hands, Sara saw herself standing on a street corner. There was something odd about the picture, as if her painted self wasn’t quite right, but the honking of a car horn distracted her before she could figure out what.

    Forgoing the rest of her walk, Sara headed home. Heedless of the experience she had just gone through, she was excited about the possibility provided by the picture. She would have stopped there to look at it closely and find out what her desire was, but found public to have too many prying eyes. As she passed groups of people Sara continuously thought that she saw that creepy little girl among them, but every second look proved her thoughts false.

    When she got to her front door she realized her pants were extremely tight. She couldn’t even reach into her pocket to get her keys with one hand; she had to hold the pocket open with her right hand and reach in with her left. As she let go the pocket slapped back in place and seemed to cut into her thigh. Stumbling inside, feeling faint of breath, she sat down in the kitchen. The button on her kaki pants popped off, hitting the table harmlessly. Bewildered, she ran into the bathroom to look at herself in the full length mirror.

    Gasping at the definitely chubby woman that looked back at her, Sara tried to hop on the scale. In her excitement she fell off and cracked it. Running to her parent’s bathroom, she more carefully stepped onto their’s. Last she had checked she weighed a perfectly agreeable 110. When the dial finished spinning, it rested on 125. Unbelieving what she saw, Sara got off and made sure it was zeroed. Attempting again, the same results came up, yet as she stood their, staring at the numbers, the needle slowly crept up to 126.

    “It must be my imagination,” she said to herself, but didn’t find it very convincing.

    Still, imagination or not she couldn’t stay in those pants. The slow metallic rip of the zipper being pushed down by her “imagination” was irritating. Stripping off her clothes before looking for a new outfit, she glanced at herself in the mirror again. Her long legs that used to be so toned from daily walks were utterly smooth, with no hint of muscle definition. Her panties still fit but were clearly stretched and pushed down a little by the beginnings of a belly (and love handles, but that was more “imagination” than Sara was willing to consider at the moment). Her breasts might have been bigger; at least they filled her bra now, whereas before they were a tad small in that regard. Her jaw line was still there, to her relief, though the distinction was not so bold as she recalled.

    Pulling herself away from the mirror, Sara went to her room for clothes. Opening her wardrobe she pulled out a nice pair of twill pants. They couldn’t be buttoned. Tossing them aside, she reached for a pair of jeans. They wouldn’t quite come over her buttocks; they too were tossed aside. Skirt after pants after jeans didn’t fit; none could fit around her waist. Her shirts were barely better, they all felt like they were choking her and cutting off circulation to her arms, and all were far too form-fitting that she preferred. Leaving the mess on her floor, she went to her parent’s bedroom. They wouldn’t be back for a month and surely wouldn’t miss a few borrowed clothes.

    Burrowing in their drawers, Sara pulled out one of her mother’s workout outfits. Since her mother wasn’t particularly thin in her own right, the green sweets fit rather comfortably, if not flatteringly. Looking to the bathroom, Sara tried the scale again. 127. Unsure of what to do, she decided to put it out of her mind and see if she was still imagining things tomorrow.

    Turning on the TV in her parent’s room, she found a favorite movie (Howl’s Movie Castle). Having never seen it often enough, she immediately forgot about her situation. Within fifteen minutes, during a commercial, she went to the kitchen and grabbed a gallon of ice cream. The painting was set, forgotten, on the table in the entry way. If Sara had looked, she would have seen herself lying on her parent’s bed, wearing green sweats. As it was, she went back to her movie, ate the entire carton of ice cream, and fell asleep.

    ***

    In the morning Sara recalled her weight gain the other day and tested the scale again. It read 135, a full 25 heavier than the day before. Yet even as she looked at the numbers she wondered if it hadn’t been a vision in the night. Hadn’t she always been 135? She tried to think of a specific memory that would set her weight at one or the other, but found any such memory to be hazy, like she was awakening from a dream.

    No, surely she had always weighed 135 (but why did her clothes not fit, a voice in her head asked). Returning to the mess in her room… well her clothes didn’t fit because that was the way things were, and has always been, as far as she was sure. It made sense, and it didn’t make sense, depending on how long she stood there thinking about it.

    Forgoing that room, Sara headed towards the kitchen. There, in the entryway, was the painting from the other day. Picking it up, she saw herself sitting at the kitchen table, in the same green sweets, eating a surprisingly large breakfast. Before her eyes the painting changed. The setting was the same, but she seemed to be bigger (even bigger than she was this morning).

    In part, she found herself wanting to throw the painting away, in part she was worried she was going mad, yet by far the strongest part was intrigued at the concept of being a little larger. True, nothing of hers fit, but it didn’t seem so bad.

    Her stomach growling distracted her and she soon forgot about the painting all over again. The kitchen called to her and she answered with force. Within minutes delicious smells began to waft from the stove, oven, and microwave. The impressive meal that she had seen in the painting (yet now only remembered as what she wanted for breakfast) took shape on the table. Sitting down, spoonfuls of cereal and forkfuls of sausage found their way into her mouth and stomach. The hour had barely passed before the impressive meal was gone into her and Sara realized the sweets were uncomfortably tight.

    "That's silly," she thought to herself, but there on the table sat the plates of her leftover breakfast feast; even with nothing but the leftover utensils and place settings, Sara realized that she had someone - her? - had eaten enough for four. Looking down, her belly did seem unusually large (though somewhere in her mind she realized that yesterday morning she didn't have a belly at all). Struggling to her feet, unused to the new weight her frame was carrying, she headed back to her parent's bathroom. Once more on the scale, it spun to 150. She faintly recalled weighing only 110 not too long ago.

    Looking back down, the needle now pointed at 151 and seemed to be heading towards 152. Jumping off the scale and backing away from it, as if it were haunted, Sara decided that obviously she needed to get out. Peeling off her father's sweat suit, she rummaged around in her mother's drawer.

    Everything was too large (but would it stay that way, she wondered), so she finally gave up and went to the attic where her mother stored her old clothes, just incase she could ever fit into them again. Finding a full length dress in a simple ivory with scroll-work embroidery, she put it on and found it too large but manageable. Tying a sash around her waist, she found it rather curious that it slid down below her belly; that had never happened with any clothing she had had before.

    Going back downstairs she weighed herself again. 160, perfectly even. Grabbing the rest of her things, she headed towards the door. There was the portrait again; fearing what would happen if she picked it up, she forced herself to look. There she was, sitting on a bench somewhere, at her current size, and as before she watched as Sara in the painting grew. It was hard to focus on her painted avatar as her attention kept wandering. Was this painting responsible for her weight gain, as preposterous as that seemed? If so, would she soon be even larger?

    To her mild amazement, she found the concept utterly non-offensive. She knew she should be scared, frightened, and possibly terrified. In truth, however, the idea seemed rather exciting. Her mother wasn't thin and she looked beautiful. Her sister, Besk, had apparently gained weight after leaving the military, or so she had heard, and Sara did desire to emulate her. As she looked at the painting it seemed like the truth was slowly being resolved in her mind.

    Placing the portrait in her room to deal with later, she went out the door and headed to the local mall. Something rather strange happened on the way; Sara became tired. It was only around five blocks away which had never caused her to so much as breath heavily before, but after three she had to sit down at a bus stop. Surprisingly, it was rather nice. There was certainly something to be said for resting after exerting one's self and tiring one's self out; she had never really been all that tired before.

    Enjoying the feeling, Sara sat there, whittling away the hours, watching people pass by. More than once she had to loosen the sash on the dress until at last it was too short to fit around her and still make a knot. Finding that she now desired something to eat, Sara left the sash behind and huffed her way to the mall.

    Upon returning that evening, tossed the bags of clothing that she got at the mall onto the couch and got on the scale. True to her suspicions, she had gained again and teetered on the edge of the one hundreds; the scale (rather happily, Sara thought) read 185. She found herself tempted right then and there to run and look at the painting again. That device seemed to be the key that unlocked her weight; another look and she could welcome the 200's with open (and flabby) arms. But she wasn't sure; determined to know one way or the other, she didn't even approach her bedroom, where the painting sat unhung, and instead tried to fall asleep and wait till morning.

    Finding it impossible, she went to the kitchen and grabbed a cartoon of ice-cream. Sitting down in front of the TV, she turned on and flipped till she found some old Dr Who episodes that were airing. When the first was over (The Curse of Peladon), Sara set the empty cartoon next to the chair and fetched another. With it nestled between her arms, she dozed off while watching a second episode.

    ***

    Rising with the sun, Sara groggily made her way to the scale once more to find her weight the same. Resolving not to touch food until she knew what was causing her weight gain, she went to her room. Picking up the frame off of her bed, she looked directly at it. She saw herself standing on the bathroom scale and as before, though she first seemed to be the size that the real Sara was, the image version expanded.

    Putting the picture down before pondering the thoughts that crept into her mind, she found the idea of standing on a scale as the weight came on to be a good idea. It would prove, in her mind, that though she didn't know how it was happening, the picture was causing her to gain weight (passingly, she wondered how that had anything to do with what the girl had said, that it would reveal her heart's desire).

    By the time she got to the bathroom the scale already read 186. She stood there for two hours (and found that doing so tired her out) and by the end the needle pointed firmly to 210. All the while she could feel and see the dress that she was wearing (the same one from the other day) fill up, until by the end it acted like a second skin. Sara waited another 15 minutes before finally stepping down.

    The woman that looked back at her from the mirror was nigh unrecognizable. Personally, Sara truly liked what she saw. Gone were her collarbone that had always stuck out so prominently, gone were her sharp cheek bones that had given her face an undesired harsh look, gone was the well defined jaw line that looked more manish than she liked.

    In their place were temptingly soft cheeks, a heart-shaped curve to her face, and a kissibly smooth neck. Indeed, just a few days ago she had thought her long neck was gangly and unbecoming, but now that the muscles, veins, and bones were messing up its curve she found it rather graceful. Happily, she ran a gentle touch down along her neck and over she shoulders, which too had smoothed out, and over her terribly soft arms.

    "These," Sara said aloud, "are some dangerous curves."

    Turning she took a glance at her butt, which she actually had now, and found that it flowed into her thicker thighs rather nicely, like dew around an apple. Her belly, which by now was rather noticeable, wasn't quite so large as to distract from her burgeoning breasts, which had outgrown her bras and now found support in the immense pressure they put on the dress.

    "One hundred pounds with just four glances," she commented to herself.

    Not quite knowing what to do with her day, she caught sight of the strained seems on the dress she was wearing. Though it was a shame to ruin such a lovely garment, the possibility was too tempting. Hurrying to the painting, she glanced upon it again. Her avatar was curiously lying on the floor, looking towards the phone, and plumped up even more.

    "Hmm, that's an idea." Setting the picture down, ensuring it was safe; Sara went straight to the phone, giggling to herself along the way at the fact that she was developing a very slight waddle. Her thighs weren't so thick that she couldn't fit one around the other, but it was within sight. Once to the phone, she called up some of her closest friends and invited them over. As of yet no one she knew had seen her at her new size (or any of her older "new sizes"). This, she decided, would be fun. However, no one could make it before that afternoon.

    Hardly daunted, Sara went to watch herself in a mirror. Two hours later she seriously regretted trying to burst out of the dress. A 235 lb body was far too much to shove into the dress, yet apparently clothing was stronger than she thought. Though the dress had been full length, it now only reached slightly past her knees, as it had been pulled up by her overly expanded body. The dress constricted her breathing and bound her legs too tightly to let her walk.

    She tried taking it off, but couldn't bend one way or another, nor could she move her arms very far. Sara tried to hop out of the bathroom but merely fell down on the carpet. There beside her was the painting, despite the fact that she had set it carefully in her bedroom. If only she could have gotten to the phone or something, but being effectively bound, she decided her only hope was to finish what she started. Nudging the painting with her nose so that she could look at it, Sara saw herself greeting her friends at the door wearing naught but her unmentionables.

    Sara wasn't sure what pain was caused by her old growth and what pain was caused by the new fat being added to her, but she was in utter agony as she swelled up. The sleeves cut so deeply into her upper arm that her fat flowed back over it, hiding the offending edge from sight. With nowhere else to go, her breasts began to squeeze up and through the v neckline, despite the fact that it wasn't low-cut in the least. Her toes seemed to be tingling from a reduced blood flow, and she began to worry about suffocating.

    Unaware of how long she was on the ground, groaning in agony, the doorbell surprised her enough to make her jump. That force was enough and the dress ripped at a seem right along her armpit. Struggling, she expanded it enough to allow her arms free movement. Grabbing at the tear, Sara pulled. A rather satisfying series of rips followed as the stitching tore right out of the fabric. Once firmly started, her fat finished the job, cascading out of the restricting raiment in waves. The doorbell rang again and Sara tore the remaining shreds off of herself. Hurriedly she pulled out the first thing she could find in her mother's drawer (a bra and panties), she walked to the door, being far too out of breath (and out of shape) to run.

    Not all of her friends stood at the door, in fact there were only two: Lansen Gripen and Viggen Draken. It seemed appropriate that Lan, her best male friend, would see her like this, and that Vi, her best female friend, would be there to support her.

    "Uh... we're sorry... we are looking for Sara Saab?" Lan stuttered.

    "Lan, Vi, it’s me! Sara! I've just gained a little weight." She ushered them inside.

    "Sara? Well, yeah. A little weight, I guess."

    "Oh come off it Lan. Sara, what happened? We saw you just a few days ago, how the heck did this happen?" Vi asked. Sara obliged with an explanation, though she insisted that they follow her to her parent's bedroom, where she could finally fit into her mother's current wardrobe, more or less. Everything, including the D-cup bras, were too large, which was exactly what she wanted after bursting out of that dress. She opted for some nice sweet shorts and a large, billowy shirt that her mother used for gardening.

    "That picture is supposed to make you gain weight every time you look at it?" Lan asked, after Sara had finished.

    Being sure not to look at it, Sara nodded. "That is what the girl said. Every time I look at it I know and become my heart's greatest desire."

    "And your heart's greatest desire is to become fat?" Vi asked.

    "Apparently. I didn't realize it, but," Sara cuddled herself, paying particular attention to her greatly increased belly, "I do kind of like it.

    Walking over to the picture, Lan asked how much she weighed now. Unsure, though with a good expectation, she got on the scale. Verily, after shoving her breasts and belly out of the way, Sara could see that it read 260, which she called out to her friends.

    Picking up the picture, Lan asked another question, "Can you show us?"

    Sara shook her head, "I've already gained 75 lb in a single day." Feeling odd when she shook her head, Sara looked in a mirror to see that her heart-shaped face had now added a second chin that jiggled separately.

    Vi went over and looked as well. "Aw come on, you'll just be granting your heart's desire, right?"

    The mirror decided for Sara. She saw herself, with breasts drooping despite the bra, with love handles that merely flowed into a shelf-like behind, a rather large behind at that, and hips large enough to utterly confound her sense of personal space. "Alright."

    Lifting herself off of the bed where she had been sitting, a feat that required far more effort than she was used to, Sara made her way over to her friends. They parted and allowed her to glance at the picture again. Curiously, she was reclining in the living room with empty food containers in the background. As she expected, her avatar began to grow, yet it seemed to take longer this time and by the end she looked so much bigger than expected. Perhaps, she thought to herself, at her size twenty five pounds looked like a lot more.

    "See, the picture changes too. I was answering the door last time I saw, now I am reclining in the living room... watching TV I guess."

    "Why am I in the picture?" Vi asked.

    "You are?"

    "Yeah, I am feeding you or something."

    Sara looked again but didn't see her friend there. "What do you see Lan?"

    "Wha? Um... nothing." He avoided eye contact.

    Sara could already feel her clothes shift has the weight began to find its way onto her frame. Turning too abruptly, her belly swung around and put her off balance, causing her to fall into Lan. It took a second for her to regain her composure, all the while her plush body was pressed firmly against Lan's.

    Standing up, she asked again "Nah, common. What did you see?"

    Shuffling his feet a bit, he replied, "Same as Vi, but I only see you and me, not her." Sara had the feeling he wasn't being terribly honest, but decided to let the matter drop.

    "I wonder why I can't see you guys and you can see each other."

    Vi was the one who figured it out. "The painting must show the viewer's desire concerning you. You want to gain weight, so that is what you see. I've always thought you'd look good fat and wanted to feed you, so that is what I see. And Lan..."

    He coughed to interrupt her. "Yes, well... um... so what now?"

    "Well, do you want to feed me?"

    It was an odd question, to be sure, and neither Vi nor Lan had ever had anything similar asked of them. It was the obvious course of action after the painting's revelation, but still...

    "Why would you want us to do that?"

    "I haven't eaten today yet, so I'm hungry. And obviously if you feed me you'll be fulfilling your own desires. Besides, whatever the painting shows, happens. You guys will somehow end up feeding me, so why not make things orderly?"

    Shrugging, both Vi and Lan uneasily headed towards the living room. They were both on their cell phones in a moment, one ordering pizza, the other ordered southern cooking from "All y'all's Al's" eatery.

    Sara pulled at her clothes warily and decided to be safe. Trekking up to the attic, she found a muumuu from when her mother was at her largest. It looked like someone had dropped a bolt of cloth on her, but it was loose, comfortable, and not in much chance of strangling her alive. Finding the effort of climbing the stairs and searching through clothes to be exhausting, she didn't come down until Lan called out that the food would be there shortly. Breathing heavily, Sara plodded down the stairs, all of which creaked more than she remembered, and decided to stop by the scale. It already read 287.

    Sara almost got off the scale before she realized what she had read. That was 2 lb over what she should have weighed after that last glance. Her image didn't just look big with another 25 on her, she actually gained more. But, Sara realized, that was because three people perceived the truth, and so she would become the truth three times over.

    Waddling as fast as she could to the front room, the doorbell range and Sara automatically opened it. There stood the pizza boy with what must have been a good eight pizzas, all extra large. The sight and smell captured Sara's full attention, while her huge form captured the pizza boy's. Lan came up behind Sara, glared at the guy as Sara grabbed the pizzas with a passion, and paid him.

    In a flash Sara was in the chair and both Lan and Vi started feeding her. When night fell the pizzas and other food were nearly gone. Sara couldn't believe that she had eaten so much. Her belly swelled out in front of her, touching her thighs, and utterly blocking the TV as she reclined.

    Both her friends needed to be going, as it was rather late, but they made sure Sara would be alright. Other than finding that she couldn't get up from being over full, she assured them that everything would be fine. Lan in particular left with reluctance.

    Resting for several minutes, Sara tried to get up again. Opening her eyes, she saw that on the far wall, above the TV, was the painting, hanging (though she was sure it had been left in the bedroom). She knew the damage was done before she even had the thought to look away. She must have been at 335 after the triple dose she got with Lan and Vi (they were surprised to find that such a large gain wasn't normal), minus any weight from the pizza, and now she'd be even larger by the end of the day.

    Trying desperately to get up, Sara found that the recliner seemed to be stuck in its position, and with her full belly there was no way she could get out of it. Resigning herself to an uncomfortable night, Sara tried to make the best out of it and get some sleep.
     
  2. Dec 20, 2006 #2

    Snorri Sturluson

    Snorri Sturluson

    Snorri Sturluson

    Keeper of Hugin and Munin

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    The night did not pass well. Sara woke up several times, and each time the first thing she saw was the painting, hanging mysteriously over the TV where she could see it.

    When she had first woken up she discovered that though her stuffed belly had receded, her increased fat wedged her into the chair. By morning, her thighs overflowed the armrests by a good inch (or so she thought from what she could feel); her breasts had grown so large that they would have been "adult-only" quality, if not for the gigantic belly below them, which seemed to be keeping her rather warm. Her gut was large enough to each her knees.

    As her eyes landed upon the painting yet again, she began to panic and struggled mightily (particularly considering that her muscles were far from accustomed to her noteworthy mass). A loud crack came from the chair, frightening Sara but only fueled her rampage more. Another crack and she could feel the chair become looser. Swinging her entire body back and forth (while her belly went forth and back), the recliner creaked, groaned, and loosened, until at last she was able to force her body, rather slowly, into a semblance of a standing position. As she did so the chair collapsed behind her.

    Straining just to keep balanced; Sara tried to take a step only to find she could barely move her legs. Looking down, she saw nothing but her own breasts and belly growing out of herself like some parasites from an under-budgeted science fiction film. Attempting to reach down with her hands, she couldn’t get beyond the disturbingly soft underside (well, more of the side, since her arms were themselves too short and too fat to reach farther) of her belly. At a loss, she tried moving her legs again. Something felt odd and it took her a moment to realize that her own stomach was hampering her movement. Lifting with all the might left in her arms, however little that was, she raised her belly as much as she could and tried again.

    Both encouraged with a little success and discouraged with how little it was, Sara began to worry that she was getting too tired merely standing. Still, she tried again; this time shifting her legs further apart, then sliding her feet across the carpet, inches at a time before trying the other foot. Mildly successful, Sara began inching her way across the room in this manner, though taking care to not look at the painting again. After five feet she was out of breath, after ten sweating. The only reason she did not fall to the floor in exhaustion was fear that once down she would have no hope of getting up until someone happened to come by; with her parents out of town, that might not be until they got back at the end of the month.

    Sara imagined that she could feel the added difficulty of each extra pound and she counted down how many pounds she had left from that inadvertent glance. Once at the entrance to the hallway, she leaned against the wall to relax. Being fat had seemed rather nice at first, and perhaps if she hadn’t gained so much over a few days she would have had the muscle to handle it, but now it was more of a burden than she wanted.

    Gulping great breaths of air, Sara noticed that her shoulders and arm flowed around the wall-end where she was leaning by a good five inches. Resolving herself and bolstering her will with steel, she turned the corner and began heading towards her parent’s bedroom.

    “Crap.” Sara had forgotten about the mirror in the hallway and had looked directly at the reflection of the painting. Feeling the muumuu groan as yet more weight was added, she laboriously made her way to the back of the house.

    A half hour later she finally made it to the bathroom and onto the scale. 560, and a good fifty of that just from this morning and her attempts to walk.

    "This can’t go on," she thought to herself. Another half hour later she had made it to the kitchen (being careful to look neither into the mirror nor into the living room) and began to flip through the phonebook on the counter. The shop wasn’t listed. It was an odd place, and it didn’t surprise her that they had no phone number, once she thought about it rationally.

    Braving the living room again, Sara managed to take down the painting, though not before looking at it again (which unfortunately showed her plodding along a sidewalk), and placed it in a paper bag. Taking the spare set of keys from the entry way (there was no way she was going to go into her room to get her keys), Sara waddled out the door.

    Her first thought was to take her car, but it was a small, economic vehicle. Even as Sara approached it she could tell that there was no way she’d fit, especially not with another bout of weight coming on. Trying not to think of how far away the shop was (though it had seemed so close back when she was under 200) Sara heaved herself off the driveway and onto the sidewalk. Shuffling off at full speed, she began to ponder how she might even go about getting that creepy girl to undo everything.

    It took nearly a half hour just for her to walk far enough that her own home was out of sight (not that she would have wasted time to turn around and look back at it). By divine providence she was able to make it to a bus stop bench before utterly collapsing. Breathing heavily, her entire body seemed to jiggle in time with the military-grade pounding of her heart.

    Wishing the city had provided arm rests, Sara made due with her own bulging sides, setting the bag with the painting on the bench next to her. As her body receded from the fiery exhaustion that walking those few blocks had brought her to, she reflected that the bench was more of a large chair for her, in terms of proportional size, rather than a bench.

    Being not terribly far from the boardwalk, a group of girls came walking down the street. With how odd the last few days had been, it took Sara a moment to recognize them as girls from her class. They in turn noticed her, but hardly recognized the mound of humanity that took up the majority of the bench. One of them poked her in the belly rather forcefully; her hand sunk in almost all the way up to her wrist, leaving Sara with a particularly sore spot that she couldn’t reach to rub. The girls waited around for the bus to arrive, all the while making fun of her.

    Sara struggled to her feet, desiring to be away from them, but the one that had poked her also grabbed the bag before she could steady herself. She opened it and showed the painting to her friends, then turned to Sara.

    “What’s this, Chubs? Couldn’t you find a painter who could have at least made you look thinner rather than fatter? Gawd, is there even a human under all that, or are you just a moving mass of lard?”

    The bus arrived and the girl tossed it at Sara’s belly. It bounced off and landed on the ground. She almost started crying, as there was no way she could manage to pick it up. Luckily the bus driver noticed and got out to help. He never took his eyes off her, nor did she take her eyes off him. There was a look of lust in his eyes that stirred the emotion in her own heart, though she might not have thought him noteworthy before.

    He placed the painting in the bag, handed it to her, and helped her into the bus (though she didn’t particularly fit, she deemed it far better than walking the rest of the way). Her destination wasn’t on his route, but he went there first anyways.

    It wasn’t until the muumuu started becoming tight that Sara realized she was gaining weight from when the girls looked at the portrait. She shuddered, causing her belly to sway for several minutes afterwards, at the idea. If they didn’t arrive soon, with all that extra weight waiting to pile on, she might not be able get off. By the time he pulled up in front of the store, which looked exactly the same as before, her thighs were already overflowing the double seats.

    Truly she tried, but Sara found that she couldn’t stand. Her belly had grown large enough to wedge her into her seat. Again the drive helped her, pulled on her arm till it hurt, but it was enough to help her stand.

    “Have you been eating this whole time, Fatty Patty? It looks like you’ve put on a hundred pounds since you rolled onto the bus!” The taunts of the girls were muffled by Sara’s own weight, but seemed oddly exciting as the bus driver helped her out of the bus (which required heavy pushing on his part, which in turn caused him to sink in rather pleasingly into her back and butt).

    As the bus drove away, Sara stood there, rather enjoying the experience to her surprise. Merely standing there was causing her to breathe heavily, a film of sweat was beginning to form on her, the muumuu was now so tight that it looked like it might have been painted on, yet she found it enjoyable. Looking at her reflection in the display window, she was actually pleased with what she saw.

    She tried to raise a hand to feel how soft her cheeks had become but found herself too tired. Her long neck, which just the other day had seemed so gracefully curvy, now supported two chins in addition to her natural mental eminence; one sagged mightily down from her face, the other bulged out from her neck, and both flowed rather nicely into her arms.

    And her arms, her arms! Most fat women didn’t even have thighs that large, and the way that they spread out at her sides and resembled pillows made her want to sleep on them. Her breasts were quite impressive, standing out from her frame and sitting atop her belly like two queens atop the world. Her belly, though terribly cumbersome, looked like it had nearly exploded out of her, flowing out several feet before yielding to gravity and draping down a little past her knees.

    From behind this divine belly apron her thighs demanded attention. Together they gave her the width that made the bus too narrow, beginning halfway up her torso and bulging their way down her sides, forming wing-like love handles before curving into a heart shape near her knees. Even her calves threatened to touch each other, being thicker than her head. She tried to force her feet together, but the closest she could get them was probably over two feet.

    Though she decided that she did look truly beautiful, Sara resolved to get the weight gain to stop. It was hard enough to move as is, if she gained any more then she might be house bound for the rest of her life. Luckily the store had double doors (though she could have sworn there was only one before. The inside was much the same, yet it struck her that the path between the shelves had been narrow for her thinner self. An elderly woman (elderly being the polite term for someone whom had lived so long that time made them look more like Yoda than a human) stood before her.

    “It took you long enough to get here, but at your size I suppose it can’t be helped.” The woman’s voice was that of a two year old.

    Sara was taken by surprise by the woman, but realized she should have expected something weird like this. “Are you the same one I talked to the other day?”

    “Oh no. When you came in before, you wanted to change your future. Now you come wanting to change your past. You saw one, now you see another.”

    “But,” Sara began, “I actually kind of like how I am, I don’t want to undo everything… just get it to stop.”

    With surprising spryness, the old woman motioned for her to follow and she began leading her through the shelves. Out of the corner of her eye, Sara thought she saw the little girl talking to a young girl a few rows over. She looked like Sara, but that would have been crazy.

    The two walked until literally Sara could walk no more, being physically exhausted, and she fell onto her butt, her legs unable to support her mass any longer. “Ah, here we are,” the old lady said in a disgustingly bubbly voice.

    From her low advantage point, Sara looked around and noticed that the painting that had been in her chubby little hands now stood on a shelf again. She saw herself sitting at home, indescribably larger than she was now. “So you want to rid yourself of the knowledge that painting grants,” the woman said.

    “Not get rid of, just stop the weight gain.”

    Shaking her head, the woman spoke in her girlish voice, “Large one, the two are the same. The painting merely brings knowledge into reality. The damage has been done, and it will continue. Nothing can stop it, but if the knowledge is undone, then the reality it has created, and continues to create,” Sara felt the muumuu starting to tear from the most recent weight gain, “will also be undone.”

    Wistfully thinking of how she liked her new body, Sara decided it was worth it. “So go ahead, take this weight off me.”

    The old woman balked at the thought. “Do you understand nothing? If you ask, I will undo the knowledge. The only way to do this is to prevent it from happening in the first place?”

    “You mean you can make it so that I never walked into this store?”

    “No, I am afraid it is not that simple.” She pulled down a diorama from the shelves. Placing it before Sara, she saw that it perfectly replicated her first visit… yet the figures were moving, and more than that the longer she looked the more she saw. It wasn’t her first visit, it was when she was saying good bye to her parents, it was when she entered high school, it was when she learned to write cursive, it was when she cried over her sister taking her blankie, it was her mother giving birth. It was, and was not.

    “Focus!” Sara snapped out of it and paid more attention. “Now,” the crone said, “there are those choices in your life that can be changed, and those that can’t. Your life ended up here, no matter what. However, if I changed one of those other choices, we alter the entire course of your life.”

    The old lady pointed to the diorama and Sara saw that instead of having toast that fateful morning she could have had cereal. She would have left later, decided to take a different route on her walk, but at the end she was there again, in that store. “However, this course of action is rather strong in your life.”

    Looking back at the diorama, Sara saw several choices in her life change. Instead of wearing a red dress to the prom she wore black and as such didn’t break up with her then boyfriend for another half hour. Instead of studying for that final, she goofed off and relaxed, which actually resulted in her getting a better grade and being put into the advanced class. Yet at every turn her life ended up the same; in countless possibilities she always entered that store. The old lady looked concerned.

    “Your course has been set for quite a while.” She pulled down another diorama, which Sara recognized as representing her father. “This is somewhat dangerous, as I cannot see all ends when I change someone else’s life to affect another. But here,” Sara saw her father at work, much younger. He was getting ready to leave for the day, but forgot a cup of water on his desk. “He will remember the water in a second, but decide to ignore it. If, however, he went back to take care that single cup of water before leaving work…”

    Sara saw her father change his mind, take care of that cup, and the subsequent delay of seconds meant he missed the traffic light, became stuck in traffic, and didn’t get home till much later, his wife (and her mother) irritated at the delay. “That was the evening you were to be conceived. By taking care of that cup of water, your parents didn’t have sex that night. Instead, you would be conceived, as you are, the next night. If I make this change, you will never enter this store.”

    “Will I still be me?”

    “In all important ways, yes. Your birthday will be one day later, and all the ramifications that come with that, but other than that one change, you will be the same.”

    “And if I stay as I am?”

    “My dear, I only deal with the past. The future is something else entirely.”

    “Not even a guess?”

    “You will always wish you had made the change.”

    “Then do it.”

    “From over seven hundred pounds to the unknown it is.”

    ***

    Sara Saab was a girl, as such terms might be applied. She was born to average parents who already had another daughter. It rained the day her parents brought their new child home, though the day before had been bright and clear. Growing up, Sara liked the rain and smell of wet earth. These were the days best spent sitting quietly, reading a book, perhaps snacking on this or that. At an early age she sought out quiet places to read, developing a particular fondness for pursuing books under the trees of the city. Linkoping was a perfect town for such reading spots, as it was a city whose number of trees outdistanced its population by a matter of factors.

    These setting were perfect to foster thought, and think she did. In a world where there are answers to questions yet unasked, her thoughts proved particularly fruitful. First she wondered what she wanted out of life, inspired by the protagonists in her books and their epic searches. At length, after careful consideration of those around her and the trends in her own life, she realized that she liked the idea of being fat. Up until that day, at such a young age, Sara had been a small girl, a little thin for her age. Yet from that day she decided to put on weight. Within a year she went from being the thinnest in her class to the largest, and it didn’t stop there.

    When she was fifteen her sister, Besk, left the house and joined the military, as the result of a desire that she had from her own infancy. Before leaving, Sara confided in her sister the reason for her size, which more than doubled her army bound sibling.

    For her part, Besk commended her sister for discovering her hearts desire at such a young age and wished her well. Yet Besk expressed her concern and urged her sister to not only pursue her heart’s desire, but health as well. So she did, and from there forth sought how to pursue her desire of weight and stay healthy at the same time.

    By the time she graduated from High School, Sara was nearly 500 pounds and feeling the full effects of her weight. Her health was hardly in shambles, but near enough. Yet with her wonderful grades, a result from her reading abilities and daily ponderances, she was accepted into one of the nation’s more prestigious universities.

    There she found out about clinical trials involving a recent medical discovery. A chemical found in wine - no, it was grape skin, she eventually found out - when taken in high volumes, had resulted in fat mice that had a decreased risk of diabetes, a non-fatty liver and other organs, and motor skills of mice an eighth their size. This was to be the first human clinical trials. Though she was nearly too old, Sara was able to squeeze into the study. If her birthday had been but a day earlier, she would have been too old.

    After a year on this chemical Sara felt endlessly better. Her boyfriend, who had followed her from Linkoping, had been excited about the results and had ensured that she gained a great deal of weight, for science of course. At a little over seven hundred pounds, Sara had no signs of weight-related diseases, and the study was extended.

    When she reached 900, Sara felt satisfied and tried to cut back on her weight. Her movement was only hampered by her size; in all other respects she was as healthy as someone who weighed 130. One day she returned to her home city and took a stroll with Lan, her boyfriend, to visit old haunts.

    On their way back from visiting the site of their first picnic, Sara and Lan strolled towards downtown, where many of the stores had been closed since before either could remember, or cared to remember, when. Curiously, along that line of boarded up buildings that had prospered in a past that dusted the imagination there was a single door open, one set of windows cleared of the aged and rotting wood that obscured them. Devices of unimaginable purpose were put on display, above which a sign was set in unnerving font. With letters not quite shaped properly, it read "Answer Shop."

    Both Sara and Lan stopped and looked in, seeing rows of daunting shelves. Shifting her massive bulk, Sara shrugged, sending shockwaves rippling across her body. “What need do I have of answers? I have everything I want here,” she patted her belly, sending yet more ripples, “and here,” she patted Lan.

    As they walked on, a little girl and an old woman looked at them from the window. Perhaps if Sara had looked back she might have felt, for a moment, that they looked familiar, despite the great oddity that their entire eyes, pupil and white, were utterly black.
     
  3. Dec 20, 2006 #3

    Snorri Sturluson

    Snorri Sturluson

    Snorri Sturluson

    Keeper of Hugin and Munin

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    Oh I am glad this finally posted; computer problems made me think it hadn't (though that is why I hadn't been able to format it better myself).

    On an interesting note for the end of the story; I know that a lot of WG stories have magic pills or the like that make someone of weight perfectly healthy. For this story, however, the magic drug is real (if it works on humans in this manner is unknown, however).

    For those interested in being obese and healthy (or know someone who is), I highly recommend keeping an eye out for reports regarding Resveratrol. It is still in the research phase, but looks very promising.

    And now you know that not everything about that story is 100% bunk. ;)
     
  4. Dec 20, 2006 #4

    Tenchi Saotome

    Tenchi Saotome

    Tenchi Saotome

    Member

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    Great story and an interesting read.
     
  5. Dec 20, 2006 #5

    LumpD

    LumpD

    LumpD

    Well-Known Member

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    Excellent story!
     
  6. Dec 21, 2006 #6

    isotope

    isotope

    isotope

    What?

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    Wow. That was amazing. Well done, i say. Well done.
     
  7. Dec 23, 2006 #7

    Ample Pie

    Ample Pie

    Ample Pie

    Fattitude Problem

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    I agree, very well done.
     
  8. Dec 23, 2006 #8

    Sparrow

    Sparrow

    Sparrow

    Well-Known Member

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    I really enjoyed this story. A+++ You made me proud, champ.
     
  9. Dec 24, 2006 #9

    Milkdud

    Milkdud

    Milkdud

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    Wow man that was kicking rad!
     
  10. Dec 24, 2006 #10

    Sparrow

    Sparrow

    Sparrow

    Well-Known Member

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    In all seriousness, I thought this story was interesting, original, and well written. It even held my interest beyond the weight gain aspect. I hope you write more in the future, even if it isn't about weight gain.
     
  11. Dec 28, 2006 #11

    Tad

    Tad

    Tad

    mostly harmless

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    The great white north, eh?
    Well done!
     
  12. Jan 3, 2007 #12

    jjgreen14

    jjgreen14

    jjgreen14

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    it was a wonderful story, a bit too large for my taste but well written...I know it said xwg but the title looked intriguing...great story
     
  13. Mar 29, 2007 #13

    Sparrow

    Sparrow

    Sparrow

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    Who wrote Larger Every Day and where would I be able to read it? I am really interested in reading the story that inspired you.
     
  14. Mar 29, 2007 #14

    Snorri Sturluson

    Snorri Sturluson

    Snorri Sturluson

    Keeper of Hugin and Munin

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    If I recall correctly, the original author was named Ann something... Ann Onymous. That aside, you can find the "original" HERE!

    Hope that helps.

    And while I am at it, I really should thank everyone for the wonderful comments (for some reason I thought I had before, but apparently I thought wrong). So... thanks everyone.
     
  15. Apr 2, 2007 #15

    Sparrow

    Sparrow

    Sparrow

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    Thanks a lot for your help. Yours is by far the better story.
     
  16. Aug 27, 2007 #16

    eyesforyou

    eyesforyou

    eyesforyou

    very happily taken

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    amazing story! kudos, ethereal yet gripping, I loved it
     

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