Not Drowning (~~WG, ~BBW, Magic, Eating, mild dom)

Discussion in 'Fantasy/Science Fiction Archive' started by polsupah, Mar 30, 2012.

  1. Mar 30, 2012 #1

    polsupah

    polsupah

    polsupah

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    (~~WG, ~BBW, Magic, Eating, mild dom)

    [Authors Note](Hi! This is my first story post to the site, I suppose. Enjoy and tell me what you think! I'll write more within this story if people want it. Plot holes in the beginning are there for a reason.)

    Not Drowning
    By Polsupah

    There was candy everywhere. Wrapped, unwrapped, chocolate, fruity-- all kinds, strewn around the room. It was bizarre, like a dream, almost. Cynthia stared at it, unbelieving, from her doorway.

    She figured it was some sort of gift. Sitting at her desk, she brushed the assorted sweets to one side to make room for her work, and then began to write. Idly, she grabbed a few of the round chocolates that were to her left. She snacked as she wrote, not really paying attention to the quickly depleting pile at her side.

    She finished the paper and came out of her trance, noticing the alarming lack of candy on the desk. She felt bloated, and a bit sick, but still kind of craved sugar.

    Cynthia looked down. Her clothes were a bit uncomfortable. Not tight, just... different. She decided not to eat any more candy and started the next paper.

    One paper later, there was a definite lack of sweets around the desk. She came out of her writing induced haze and tasted the sugar on her lips. Looking down, her pants definitely seemed to be straining.

    Abruptly, she stood up from her chair, causing a small flurry of wrappers. There was a jiggle when she moved. Her pants were uncomfortably tight. Her mouth tasted sickly sweet, and her stomach weighted with syrup.

    She left her room and went into the kitchen, where she tried to wash out the taste with water. It didn't seem to help. She sat on the couch and tried to get a hold of herself. She had never eaten mindlessly like that before... then again, her room had never been stuffed with candy. She noticed that she was feeling much better than before; hungry, she noted with worry.

    A cheese stick would help, she thought. They're healthy. Just a cheese stick, as she opened the fridge. Or two and some crackers and artichoke dip. Healthy, no problem.

    She sat on the couch in silence and slowly ate it all. It helped, but she was back to craving chocolate again. Her stomach definitely had become pudgier, and was sticking up over her waistband. It felt like a big rubber ball.

    She groaned and went back upstairs, feeling sleepy. She decided that she would eat nothing more, and instead just go to sleep.

    She almost managed that, downing a handful of M&M's before crawling under her covers. She dreamed of drowning in the ocean, causing her to wake up with a shriek as her lungs collapsed with water. She sat against the wall until she steadied her breathing, then saw the melted chocolate running down her hand. She tentatively touched her face with her clean hand. It came back with her fingers looking like they had been dipped in fondant.

    In a fit of panic, she fled to the bathroom and leaned up against the mirror. Her mouth was covered with semi-solidified chocolate, while her hand had a few rivulets of what were probably melted M&Ms in it. Cynthia simply stared at her reflection for a few moments, and then broke down into a fit of hysterical laughter. Nothing made any sense. Who would send her all of this candy? Why was she so weak? Why did she not remember having changed into these pajamas?

    The sudden onrush of giddiness turned into abject terror, and she fell against the sink, crying. She felt like throwing up, but could only dry heave. Her stomach felt empty, and was considerably softer than the day before. She just couldn't understand what was going on, or why her, or if this was even really such a bad thing--

    Weeping, she huddled in the corner of the bathroom with her arms wrapped around her knees. Before falling asleep, she decided that maybe she just needed to get out of the house. She was too stressed from college, and the homework was getting to her. That must be it. It didn't answer all the questions, but it was close enough for her.

    She dreamed of floods.

    ---

    She woke up with the morning sun streaming in through her bedroom window--
    --her bedroom window--

    She froze as she realized she was tucked into her bed instead of in the corner of the bathroom. The chocolate was washed off of her hand, and her face felt clean. Her sheets had even been changed.

    "No," she said aloud. "No, no, no, no, no, nope, nope." She repeated this to herself under her breath as she changed into her normal clothes and quickly left her house.

    Once she had calmed down, she went to the mall to kill some time. She felt like she was starving, so she bought a Subway and a smoothie. She sat in the food court and watched the other shoppers. She was pleasantly surprised when she felt full before completing her hoagie. She tossed it and the last of the smoothie into the trash, then continued to sit and think for a while.

    What was wrong with her? Or was it something wrong with her room? Her kitchen? Her normal food? Her house? Was she hallucinating? Was it some sort of prank?

    The last one, at least, she could debunk. She was rather introverted and didn't have any friends that would be willing to spend the obscene amount of money needed for all of that food. Then there were the things that had happened that she herself would not have been able to do, unless she had sleepwalked or had lost her memory of doing so.

    All of these questions were stressing her out. She decided to go shop for clothes, or whatever would get her mind off of things. That was the point of the trip, after all.

    Some shoes and a new video game later, Cynthia returned to her house in a much better mood than before. She practically ran up the stairs, not really noticing how her thighs tended to pinch in her jeans when her legs bent. Her mood left her, though, when she entered her room. Perhaps playing the game in here was not the best of ideas.

    She ran the shopping bag back downstairs, and then got to work disconnecting the console from the television. She would have to make do using the tiny TV down in the kitchen.

    She reconnected the console to the television on the kitchen counter, and then grabbed a stool and a controller. She went to plug in the controller and noticed a rather conveniently placed bag of chips that hadn't been there, had it? Oh well. Play the game.

    Cynthia rather enjoyed the game, though it had a pretty standard storyline. The combat system was a nice change from what she usually played. The bag of chips slowly emptied.

    On a particularly difficult level, her character kept getting pushed off of the cliff of a river canyon. She sighed as the life counter reached zero and the "GAME OVER" screen popped up. It was getting late, so she went to turn off the console and noticed how greasy her controller looked.

    She averted her eyes from the controller and looked instead at the empty chip bag. It wasn't a small, vending machine bag, she thought. It was the large kind of a cheap brand that would probably contain enough oil to power a small car.

    She crumpled up the bag and threw it in the general direction of the garbage, then turned off the television and walked directly to the little couch on the other side of the room. There was no way she would sleep in her room tonight.

    She fell asleep scrunched up on one end of the couch, acutely aware of how her knees pressed into her soft stomach.

    ---

    She dreamed of rain, endless rain. Thousands of tiny drops turning into a tidal wave, completely unstoppable. She could see herself in the water.

    ---

    She rubbed her eyes blearily and looked around. Still on the couch, thank God. And a nice cup of coffee with whipped cream on the table. How considerate.

    She silently stormed over to the counter and dumped the coffee down the sink, then tossed the styrofoam cup in the garbage. And that gave her an idea.

    She could easily solve the problem. She could just throw it all away.

    She grinned, almost maniacally, and started to run to the steps, but quickly ran out of breath. This junk food thing really had to stop, she thought, as she felt her gut shift against her legs as she went up the stairs with garbage bag in her hand.

    The cleanup was much easier than she thought it would be. She kept herself from sneaking any pieces. Soon, the bag was half-full, and her room was empty.

    She went back downstairs and dumped the candy in with the rest of the garbage. Thank goodness that's over with, she thought.

    --

    A few days passed, and Cynthia was feeling much better. Nothing strange had happened, and she had finished her assignments. Break was coming up soon, which she was very happy about.

    The only thing that bothered her was her newly found weight. She had weighed a relatively healthy 140 pounds before at 5'8" in height, but had shot up to 160. Her appetite was a bit bigger than before, and she suspected that her metabolism had slowed. And she didn't have much time to exercise. The professors were really piling on the work in order to get everything done before break.

    ---

    Vacation began, and there was much rejoicing. Cynthia finally got in touch with a few of her friends, and they went out for a night downtown. No one commented on the weight she had gained, and she was grateful for that. She didn't have many friends, but at least the ones she had had tact.

    She came home rather late, feeling elated but exhausted. She crashed on the couch.

    She was too tired to dream, and woke up about an hour later anyways. The house was dead silent. She checked the time on her phone. 3:15. She didn't feel tired at all, just--

    Oh goodness. Please. Not again.

    But didn't I miss it? Wasn't I lonely? I can fill myself up.

    Oh my Goodness who are you get out of my head get out of my head get out of my

    Aren't I hungry? I haven't eaten in a while, she thought, lurching off of the couch. I didn't really appreciate my gift.

    She stood in front of the garbage can. The contents were about four days old. There was food, then her gift, then older food. She needed her gift.

    ---

    Cynthia woke up crying over the sink in her bathroom. Her stomach felt painfully swollen, and it popped out of her tight shirt.

    She tried to vomit, but again came up with nothing.

    What the hell just happened?

    I'm not confused; I can show myself exactly what had happened.

    Her stomach distended, stretched to a length that should not be humanly possible as she continued to cram food into her mouth, candy and garbage, as her digestive system worked overtime to convert what she was taking in. Her stomach inflated like a balloon, pushing her elbows out. The top stayed hard and rounded as the bottom softened and rolled into the gut that was steadily covering her legs and the ground. Her thighs thickened until they pressed against each other, despite how they were pushed as far away from each other as possible by her stomach.

    The calves and ankles became indistinguishable. Her breasts overflowed her bra, squished together by her wobbling arms. Her behind kept her tailbone from being hurt on the floor. Her sides gained rolls that shifted over each other as she reached for the trashcan, rocking back and forth in a repetitive motion.

    Cynthia came back to her self, disbelief etched on to her face. I couldn't have done that. No way.

    But she knew that it was true when she lifted her head from the sink and saw her bloated form in the mirror. Her skin looked smooth, almost rubbery. Her breasts were round and perky, straining the tight top that had been forced upwards by her belly. She looked pregnant, with triplets. The rolls on her sides and her gut were almost like little innertubes stacked on top of each other.

    She cautiously turned to the side and saw her behind jut out like two balloons attached to her hips.

    Her legs and arms were in a similar state, inflated to the point where they hardly looked like limbs anymore.

    She cautiously poked her stomach and her finger sank into it like it was full of pudding. She removed her hand, and it flowed back to its original shape.

    Cynthia shivered. This isn't natural, she thought. I didn't eat nearly enough to cause this kind of gain, and my skin, my-- my insides are--

    Different. I just made them different, that's all. Go to the bedroom.

    Cynthia pushed herself away from the sink, falling back before regaining her balance. She had to slowly waddle back to her room, her legs practically having to flow around each other. By the time she reached her bed, she was exhausted.

    She looked down at herself in disgust and fear.

    But don't I like it?

    Her hand pressed against her stomach; soft at first, then hard enough to envelop her fingers.

    Oh get out of my head

    Her hand trembled as she pulled it back from her stomach, where its indent remained for a few moments before fading away.

    Don't I just look lovely with it on?

    She squeezed her breasts and --oh god-- her back arched with a sudden electric feel. She gasped, and, thoughts obscured by the sudden arousal, continued massaging them on her own.

    Her hands stopped against her will, and she felt almost disappointed.

    No, I shouldn't be upset. I can do better.

    Her hand traveled downward-- past her still-jiggling breasts, past her abdomen.

    A few panicked thoughts passed through the haze. No, please don't--

    But I enjoy it.

    no please no

    She made contact with herself, and it was one of the most sensual things she had ever felt. It parted like putty under her fingers, and --no-- she couldn't believe how good, how right it was. It felt unreal. Her back arched again, and again, and her whole being -i said no- trembled with happiness and anticipation as she reached her peak.

    I SAID NO, she screamed, inside of her head. Her slick hand flopped on to the bed beside her.

    You enjoyed it, thought the thing inside her head.

    You didn't ask me to, she thought back.

    There was utter silence in her mind for a few moments, and her body suddenly became thicker and denser. It pressed her into the mattress, pinning her down.

    Why would I? it asked, almost sounding offended.

    I am not a toy to be played with, she thought at it, enraged. The fog was clearing, and she was feeling angrier than she had ever been before. I am a human being.

    Human beings are toys, it corrected, sounding like an adult speaking to a child.

    She could feel her breasts pressing against her chest. It was getting hard to breathe.

    Why would you do this? she asked. Are you planning on... planning on eating me? Are you toying with your food?

    No, it thought back, laughing mockingly.

    She struggled for another explanation. Do you get off from it?

    This time, it laughed for a long while. It sounded hoarse, and it hurt to hear it.

    What a horrendously stereotypical answer. Try again.

    She was struggling for oxygen, now. Little spots would appear in her vision and pop. Like raindrops hitting the ground, she thought.

    Then why?

    There was a long pause.

    Why not? it answered, as she lost consciousness.

    ---

    She dreamed of rivers, and pools, and oceans. Of swamps, and snow, and rain. She consumed and flowed. She expanded and touched. She drowned, but the water was tired of this game and threw her back to shore.

    She woke up with a start. Her body had returned to its original slightly pudgy shape. She poked her stomach, and it reacted normally. Still suspicious, she got out of bed and went downstairs to the kitchen.

    There was a huge mess around the garbage can. She nearly collapsed at the sight of it. So it really was real.

    She gathered herself and decided she would clean it up later. She had a break to enjoy first.

    She was about to go upstairs to get dressed when she noticed a small basket on the counter. It had a chocolate bar, a pack of Skittles, and a typed note.

    She took the note and read it.

    I am tired of this game for now.
    Maybe again some other time.
    You are fun.


    She placed the note inside the basket, then took the basket and carried it outside. The basket was then disposed of in the closest dumpster. She stood there for a few moments, feeling accomplished.

    She returned to her house when she realized that she still hadn't changed out of her pajamas.
     
    Tad likes this.
  2. Mar 30, 2012 #2

    IrishBard

    IrishBard

    IrishBard

    womble/leprechaun hybrid!

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    this is an awesome start to a story. It's creepy and sinister and utterly engrossing. more please!
     
  3. Mar 31, 2012 #3

    JimBob

    JimBob

    JimBob

    Wondering Where You Are

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    It's like a deliciously sexy version of John Carpenter's "The Thing". I would be all-too-glad to see more.
     
  4. Mar 31, 2012 #4

    imogenbakerbell

    imogenbakerbell

    imogenbakerbell

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    Well that wasn't your average weight gain story; while kind of disturbing, I really enjoyed it :) As IrishBard says, more please!
    "She dreamed of rivers, and pools, and oceans. Of swamps, and snow, and rain. She consumed and flowed. She expanded and touched. She drowned, but the water was tired of this game and threw her back to shore." I really like this passage, except what did she touch? Herself?
     
  5. Apr 1, 2012 #5

    brain leech

    brain leech

    brain leech

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    that is so different, I feel like I just watch episode one of Heroes, wanting more, and answers to what really going on. also great style of writing
     
  6. May 20, 2012 #6

    polsupah

    polsupah

    polsupah

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    A year passed, and Cynthia was feeling better and better. College was becoming smooth sailing. She was reaching out to her friends more often and developing a social life. She had even found a boyfriend.

    His name was Mark and they had a few classes together. Both were interested in medicine and government. More importantly, Mark was fine with her introverted personality; he was a bit shy himself. It had taken them a long time to finally speak to each other, and she was rather proud of herself for finally getting the bravery to strike up a conversation. They had been dating steadily for almost three months.

    They would be going to a movie together later that evening, and the thought of it made her feel like she was back on her very first date in high school: nervous and fluttery, like an easily excitable bird. She knew she had no reason to feel this way, as they had gone on multiple dates in the past. But she did anyway, and wondered if he felt the same.

    There was a knock at the door, and she opened it, smiling. Mark was about her height, with short brown hair and mossy green eyes. He had a slightly rounded face and a slightly slouched posture. He had a bad habit of chewing on his lower lip when he was nervous; he was actually doing that right now. Seeing that made her feel a little bit better; he was just as uneasy as she was.

    Their tension melted away as soon as they saw each other, however, and they shared a quick hug. They exchanged some small talk as they walked down to his car.

    “How have classes been?” she asked, tentatively. He’d had a much harder time paying attention in class lately, and it was worrying her.

    “They’ve been okay. I’ve been studying,” he said, smiling and pointing at the dark circles under his eyes for emphasis. “But I just can’t get into it anymore. I don’t have much time to sleep, and when I do, I don’t sleep well.”

    She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before going over to the passenger seat side of the car. “You can always come to me for help, you know. We could do a study date.”

    “Yeah.” He swung into the driver’s seat and started the car. “We can do that.”

    ---

    The movie was entertaining, though one minor incident had caught Cynthia’s attention.

    There was a minor scene where the main characters had to travel by boat and ended up in a motorboat chase. It was pretty standard action-movie fare, but Mark had been strangely tense for the entire thing. She watched him carefully, but he calmed down once the scene was over.

    His discomfort stuck in her mind for the rest of the date. She tried to reason with herself. There’s no way, she thought. I’m just being stupid, and paranoid, and I need sleep, and…

    Her thoughts cycled around from worry to doubt as she kissed him goodbye, her cheery wave goodbye masking her inner turmoil.

    She was worried because for the first few weeks after her ‘incident’, she had been upset by water or anything containing it. It was, however, a difficult thing to avoid, and knowing that the majority of the human body was water gave her a constant sense of uneasiness. It had been an expensive habit, but she had to resort to drinking from only store-bought water bottles until the aversion had passed.

    She had had similar difficulties watching movies with scenes in or around water, knowing that she was being completely irrational the whole time, but still feeling like the ocean, lake, or river was some sort of living thing that was looking back as she watched it. Showers had been a necessary hell.

    She had gotten over it eventually, though, shrugging it off as irrational thinking. She shrugged her suspicions about Mark off, as well. It was nothing.

    ---

    That night she dreamed of her own apartment. She was looking at it from the outside, on the street. It was raining. She could feel every individual raindrop hit her skin. It was soothing.

    She walked down the street, and suddenly it was Mark’s place, not hers. She was right outside his window, but the curtains were drawn and she couldn’t see anything.

    The curtains were ebbing back and forth, like seaweed. She placed her hand against the glass and it melted away, causing water to pour out of the hand-shaped hole in the window. The entire house was flooded.

    She cleared the rest of the window away with her hands, the glass feeling like no more than plastic. Soon, the water looked low enough to wade through, and she crawled through the window. Landing with a splash, she half-walked, half-swam through the familiar rooms. There were the stairs that lead to his roommate’s room, and there were the ones that lead to Mark’s.

    She took Mark’s set of stairs, ascending from the flooded lower level. The carpet squished beneath her feet, still soaked. She realized she could still feel the rain from outside; it was passing straight through the ceiling and landing on her.

    She finally reached the door to Mark’s room. It was just barely opened, and she pushed it the rest of the way.

    He was sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed with his back facing her. The water had formed into a round, liquid wall that surrounded his bed. She had the sudden thought that it was a prison of some sort.

    As the door closed behind her she could feel the hollow column of water suddenly become… well, aware of her presence. Like it can see me, she thought.

    Hello again, said a familiar voice.

    Her entire body tensed involuntarily, but she was able to find the strength to speak. “What are you doing to him?”

    Nothing really, it answered.

    “I don’t believe you,” she retorted, though her voice was tremulous. She could hear water churning downstairs.

    See for yourself.

    She regained control of her body and immediately ran to the other side of the bed. Mark was sitting peacefully in the center of his bed. His eyes were open, but staring at nothing in particular. He blinked occasionally.

    Not that you would be able to tell by looking at him here, it said as the water below made a loud rushing sound. It’s just in your head. That isn’t really him, that’s just you dreaming of him.

    Water was flowing up the staircase as if it were downhill. It started to seep through the door frame.

    I didn’t expect you to know that, of course. You aren’t very smart about these sorts of things.

    The door burst and the room began to flood. Cynthia froze again, unable to move as the floor collapsed under the weight. She fell and felt her lungs compress under the pressure.

    And then she woke up.

    ---

    She heard her cellphone ringing and grabbed it from the desk. It was Mark.

    “I know that it’s three in the morning,” he said apologetically. He sounded tired and hollow over the phone. “But are you…”

    Cynthia rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clock. It was 3:15. “Awake? Yeah, I actually just woke up before you called.”

    He was quiet for a few seconds. “I was actually going to ask if you were all right.”

    She knew that it was a weird thing for someone to spontaneously call and ask this so early in the morning, but given the circumstances, she decided that he probably had a good reason to do so.

    “I haven’t been sleeping very well,” she answered. “Are you okay?”

    He sighed into the receiver, causing a loud, static-y sound on her end. “I haven’t slept in days. I think I’ve developed some sort of insomnia. I feel so tired.”

    There was a long pause before he spoke up again. “Are you still there?”

    “Yeah.”

    She wanted to ask him about if he’d been having the same problem that she had. He wasn’t eating irrationally, she thought, he just can’t sleep. It could be completely unrelated. Except there was the thing about the boats… had he reacted like that to anything else?

    It was hard to think this early in the morning. She yawned away from the phone.

    “I might sound really crazy, but I think it’s being caused by something.” His voice sounded tiny over the phone, but she snapped back to attention when she heard him.

    “Caused by something?” she asked.

    “No, it’s stupid. Hey, I’m going to let you get back to sleep, and—“

    She interrupted him. “No, tell me.”

    There was another long pause.

    “The last time I actually slept, I had some really weird dreams. Like, I saw you in them, and you were drowning in a lake. It was the same lake that was near my grandparents’ house, but that’s beside the point.”

    “Anyway, I kept trying to dive in after you, but I would just end up on land again, and the sky would laugh at me. Wow, that sounds stupid, but that’s what it was like in the dream.”

    “You were gone, so I tried to leave, but I tripped on something and completely lost my sense of balance. I was spinning, actually feeling nauseous, and eventually I fell into the lake. I sank straight to the bottom.”

    “I remember there being a lot of fish, and actually thinking, wow, that’s a lot of fish, and I tried to swim back up. I was caught in the mud and couldn’t move. The sky was laughing again and it was so much closer.”

    “There was a shark in the lake, too. I saw it. Then all of the fish disappeared and I felt like… like it wasn’t my dream anymore. Like control was being taken away from me. I was stuck there, in the mud at the bottom of some giant mass of perfectly clear water. And I could feel it watching me, just to see what I would do.”

    “I tried getting out of the muck, of course, and I eventually got free. I ran out of air and started to drown.”

    “I could feel the water forcing itself into my lungs… it felt thick as tar. I could feel it going up my nose and through my ears and into my brain. It asked me who I was, but I woke up before I could answer.”

    “After that, I didn’t sleep very much. I just couldn’t fall asleep, and I would wake up soon after I did. I tried falling asleep by just trying to turn off my mind and watch TV or go on the computer or something, but that didn’t work.”

    “Then I started to dream during the day. It’s almost like hallucinating. I can keep it mostly under control, but lately…”

    She tried to get a comment in while he paused.

    “I think I know what you’re talking about,” she said quietly.

    “You do?”

    She explained to him the dreams that she had during her incident, but decided to leave out the part where she had inflated like a human water balloon. She added that she had started to have them again.

    “Then you’ll probably want to know the last daydream I had,” he said. She told him to go ahead and tell her.

    “I was sitting on the couch with the TV on when it happened. I just completely dazed out where I was. Felt like a slug, couldn’t move at all. I saw the room start to flood. It reached my ankles, then stopped. Then the ceiling rained. The… thing talked to me. Told me I was doing a good job. I asked, a good job what? It said, a good job staying awake.”

    “It told me I would rot my brain with all this television. I told it to let me sleep. It said no, you’re doing fine losing consciousness on your own. I’m not sure what it meant by that.”

    “It turned the TV up really loud, loud enough to hurt my ears. I wanted to cover them, but I still couldn’t move.”

    “It asked me if I would just give up, give in. It got in my mind and started thinking in first person, like it did to you. Made me wonder what the point was. Made me think that thinking was useless, if that made any sense. And then it all just stopped. The flood was gone and it stopped raining. It told me that I wasn’t the only one, and then it left.”

    “The first person I thought of was you. I don’t want you to be affected by this thing, but I guess you already are.” He sounded defeated.

    After a few moments of deliberation, she responded. “Stay where you are, and stay awake. I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

    ---

    Cynthia arrived at his house and briefly wondered why it wasn’t flooded. She pushed the thought from her mind and knocked on the door. As she waited, she looked around. The sky was dark as pitch, but the moon was clearly visible. She was wondering why it was so hard to see the stars when Mark opened the door.

    Wordlessly, they hugged each other. Cynthia buried her face in his hoodie and squeezed her eyes shut.

    “It happened again while you were on your way here,” he said, releasing her from his embrace as they entered the house. She noticed how much darker the circles under his eyes were from when she last saw him. The TV was blaring in the other room.

    “What did it do?” She went in to the room with the TV, found the remote, and turned it down so it wasn’t so deafening.

    “It was really weird. I just heard it say a bunch of numbers as the house flooded again. I’m not sure if it actually means something or if it’s just doing it to creep me out.” Mark sat on the couch and stifled a yawn.

    Cynthia sat beside him and pulled her knees to her chest as she snuggled against his side. “I wonder what exactly it is. A monster that doesn’t kill you, just tortures you in weird and inconvenient ways.”

    He snorted and leaned his head against hers. “Sounds about right.”

    He yawned again. Cynthia heard his jaw crack.

    “Try falling asleep,” she told him. “Maybe now that I’m here, you will. It sounds silly, but it’s worth a shot. I’m tired enough to fall asleep myself.”

    “I can try.” He nuzzled against her hair, and she laughed quietly.

    Slowly, they fell asleep against each other.

    ---

    She was on a shelf on the side of a cliff, far beneath the ocean. There was light enough to see, but she could not see the surface. To her left was a drop-off, and to her right a cave. She looked over the edge and saw nothing but blue. She wanted to keep looking, but the current was pushing her to the cave. The roof of it passed over her head, dark shapes looming far above.

    The cave was going upwards. She reached an air pocket and gulped down the oxygen in relief. She felt like she didn’t need air while in the water, but breathing seemed like a definite improvement.

    The area around her seemed impossibly large. She could just barely see the walls. They had thousands of cave entrances in them, causing the chamber to look like the inside of a giant stone honeycomb. She had the distinct feeling that something lived in each of the tunnels and she swam away, ending up in the very center.

    She was about to try heading back out to the open ocean when her chest seized up. She gasped in desperation as she was pulled to the side. Water flowed harmlessly into her lungs, but she sputtered still, trying to stay above the surface.

    As she drifted under she could see that the honeycomb caves continued underwater. She had not noticed them on the way in. The main chamber was like a giant sphere with thousands of offshoot tunnels, and one larger one as an entrance at the bottom.

    She went loose, unable to get her arms or legs to move as she neared one of the underwater entrances. Suddenly, she was in air again, and falling straight down a shaft. It curved at the end like a slide, and she landed in a shallow pool.

    There was some water pouring out of the tunnel that she came through. It ran over her back as she tried to assess her surroundings.

    The sourceless light was dimmer here. She found it difficult to see. The cave was more like a room. It was still rather large, but it was roughly square. The tunnel she had arrived in seemed like the only way out.

    If she squinted, she could see a black mass in the center of the room. It looked a bit like a chair.

    She approached it carefully, trying not to trip over the uneven floor. It was a large stone chair, though she thought it looked more like a throne. She had the sudden desire to sit in it.

    She eased herself into it slowly. The seat was rather high up. When she was fully settled, her feet were unable to touch the floor. She was wondering what to do next when her back jerked straight again. Her head hit against the stone back and throbbed painfully.

    Welcome back
    , said a familiar voice.

    She tried screaming, but her jaw clenched shut. The rest of her body jerked in resistance. Her thoughts devolved into panic as she felt it root around in her mind. She began to slide off of the chair.

    Stop moving, just calm down. Sit in your seat and stay a while.

    Her entire body went rigid as she was pushed back into place. She was frozen in place, barely able to move.

    She tried to focus all of her energy into her thoughts. Stop, get out get out getoutgetout

    The thing disappeared for a moment, as if it had been forced out, but quickly returned.

    In spite of the situation, she found herself becoming calmer, as if she were being sedated. She was finally able to think straight.

    Why are you doing this? she asked.

    Why not? it said.

    Not this again, she thought to herself. She decided to try something else.

    What are you doing to Mark? she asked.

    Drowning him, it said. Sensing her confusion, it explained further. Not in water, but in sight and stimulation. He told you that he hasn’t been able to sleep. That is because he is drowning in television and magazines. His brain rots as he loses self control, just as you did the same with your body.

    You leave him alone, she hissed as she was pushed harder into the chair.

    Why should I?

    Her mind raced. She knew that it was impossible to explain the moral implications to this… thing. It either didn’t understand or it didn’t care.

    Maybe it could be bargained with. The idea made her cringe. There was really only one thing she could offer.

    If you leave Mark alone, she thought, I will willingly let you in to me.

    What makes you think that I can’t have you both?

    She tried to regain control of her body again. It responded by pushing her off of the chair and on to the floor. She landed on her stomach and jarred her shoulder hard enough to bring tears to her eyes.

    She tried getting to her feet. She was able to stumble a few steps forward before it returned again. This time, it only forced her to her knees.

    She realized that it was getting easier each time, and shoved it away once more. It came back, and she collapsed to the floor in a heap.

    She tried one last time, and it left her mind completely. She half-crawled, half-lunged towards the tunnel entrance. She could suddenly sense herself becoming thicker and heavier.

    She stumbled towards the shallow pool as her legs shook from the effort. She could see her stomach and hips suddenly swell, like they were being filled with paste. There was a loss of balance as her behind followed suit, causing her to trip and slide in to the water. She could see that she was gaining a definite pear shape that only continued to grow. It was rendering her legs completely useless, so she tried to pull herself forward through the water with her arms. The tunnel entrance was so close…

    The thing returned to her mind. You’ll never fit.

    She looked down and realized that it was probably right. That didn’t stop her from trying.

    She tried to find purchase on the smooth walls of the tunnel, but there was none. She briefly wondered if it was smooth from water flowing through it or use.

    By placing the palms of her hands and her forearms against the walls, she managed to gain enough traction to pull herself up a few inches. However, the majority of her weight was no longer supported by water, and she slid down again.

    She tried to pull herself up again, and was acutely aware of how much more her stomach pressed against the tunnel walls. Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself up one last time.

    It was nearly impossible. Her lower half now completely filled the opening, and her top half was beginning to catch up. She could see her arms expanding against the hard rock.

    Didn’t I tell you?

    Feeling defeated and knowing it was impossible to leave this way, she tried to lower herself back in to the pool. She didn’t move an inch.

    She realized with some horror that she was stuck.

    She saw that her arms were still growing, and that her chest was compressed by her breasts. Breathing was difficult. She tried to swallow her panic.

    Stop, she thought. She saw the water coming down the tunnel start to build up around her bottom half, like a clogged pipe.

    You’ll survive, it said, and then went completely silent.

    She felt a sudden flash of intense hate and frustration. In a panic, she clawed and pushed at the tunnel, trying to get back in to the chamber below. The water continued to build up around her, reaching her shoulders.

    She was drowning, and she knew it, and even in her rage and fear she kept herself. The water reached up to her spluttering lips, and she still, in her dying gasps and chokes, continued to push against the tunnel wall in an attempt to escape.

    It filled her nose and throat and lungs. Another filled her eyes and ears and thoughts.

    She drowned. And she woke up.


    [Author's Note] So yeah not much WR stuff, but plot development, I suppose. To be continued~)
     
  7. May 21, 2012 #7

    FAelitist

    FAelitist

    FAelitist

    Active Member

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    I really like how it looks like you've put a lot of thought into developing a good plot with wonderful suspense. It's nice when a wg story is also a story, please continue!
     
  8. Oct 31, 2013 #8

    JimBob

    JimBob

    JimBob

    Wondering Where You Are

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    Still my favourite disturbing WG story. Wish it could continue.
     

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