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Paranoia's Stories - Silence - XWG, Occult, Horror

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Active Member
Jan 16, 2008
It's 4:37AM and I just cannot sleep. Hours have passed and there is nothing I can do about it. Do you know what the worst part is? I'm not alone. They keep staring at me through the darkness and although I do my best to pull the covers over my head I cannot help but catch a passing glance. I try not to cry or scream. These people, with their lidless eyes focused on me and their mouths wide open, are having an effect on me. The room smells of rust and blood which paralyzes me with fear.

But that's not all. The second I make a move or sound, practically any hint that I'm not asleep, I am going to die. No one will be around to save me. I've lain here in the dark trying to think of a way to get out but with the current state that my body is in I'm in no position to rush for the door, let alone squeeze past it. I could try to scream and hope my neighbors hear me but its risky. Still, if I stay I will surely die. It's waiting for me to wake up and see its masterpiece before it kills me.

You're probably wondering how it came to this. I apologize. I do get ahead of myself at times. Fear got the better of me. For the sake of this story, let's call me Paranoia...


The silence. The silence was uncomfortable and Paranoia didn't like it. It seeped into every pore of her being as she made her way through the darkness to the kitchen downstairs.The floorboards creaked beneath her weight.

Light burst through the open fridge as she rummaged around inside. It illuminated her fatness, her chubby cheeks and pronounced double chin which smiled as she found what she craved. Paranoia's generous bust dipped low and pressed into the chilly grates of the refrigerator as she scooped up an armful of assorted snacks.

Paranoia's ass was firm but full, its exquisite roundness perfectly suited towards knocking the refrigerator door shut. Had she not needed the light, she probably would have done so. Her belly was round and drizzled itself over her shorts as she set about preparing her meal.

Nimble fingers reached out to the microwave keypad. Five minutes should be more than enough to defrost what she hoped would be able to sate the rumbling within her belly. She shouldn't have been there. It was 11:37 and she had already eaten a late dinner but that was just not enough. Midnight snacking was something Paranoia promised not do, but there was still time before then. She waited for the numbers to count down.

Dieting was hard. For the past six months she had done everything humanly possible to try and keep herself away from the path of temptation. Starting at a hefty 220 pounds, she had just barely managed to get herself under 200, a number which constantly fluctuated around this time of night. The outline of her cell phone bulged through her breast pocket as her breasts underneath attempted to do the same through the strained gaps between buttons. Perhaps exchanging her entire wardrobe for a smaller size was not the smartest of moves when it came to motivation, especially if you succumbed to temptation as easily as Paranoia did. Her belly grumbled louder from within the constraints of her skinny jeans as though voicing the tortured cries of her hips and thighs. Dainty steps were all she could manage with just the barest hint of a bend. Inches of her once dominant belly still oozed over the sides of her belt which lay open at the clasp. The button had in fact snapped off quite some time before, but as long as they still clung to the plumpness of her thighs they could still be considered a fit.

"Just one more snack, for real this time. If I should ever break this promise, I hope something terrible would punish me."

It was just a little promise. Another motivator to help keep her focused. She had uttered those words the last time she had gotten on the scales and had only meant it in passing. After all, who hadn't made one of those spur of the moment vows after eating too much, followed by a half-hearted diet attempt as a New Year's resolution. It was something that was soon forgotten and never to be heard from again; the proverbial 'last big pig-out' before seriously starting to diet 'tomorrow'. It didn't matter as long as no one was out to listen.

Paranoia rubbed her tired eyes and sighed, her hands sliding down her shapely sides to caress the burgeoning folds of her belly. Her fingers drummed against it, each gentle tap piercing the heavy silence which surrounded her and played a melody to the whirr of cooking food.

A blood curdling scream echoed through the corridors of the apartment.

It seemed to come from everywhere and from every direction. Short, sharp and piercing, it resonated through Paranoia's very soul. She shut the fridge door and powered off the microwave. She peeked across the hall from the open kitchen towards the front door. Through the darkness she could see that it was ajar, ever so slightly. A flickering light from the hallway of her apartment revealed a trail of crimson liquid seeping through the carpet that trailed inside before disappearing into inky blackness.

Paranoia released a breath she wasn't aware that she had held. Large, greasy crimson stains glistened at the corridor leaving a dank trail into her study on the left side of the house. There was still time to run. She listened for her cue, anything from even the lightest of foot falls.


The silence was even more deafening now than it had been before. Her chubby fingers reached around the corner as she attempted to make her escape. She fingered the light switch furtively as she battled the thought of every single monster she had ever known to suddenly appear before her. She gulped as she contemplated the possibility of something slithering, skittering, crawling or oozing its way through her house without her noticing over the sound of the microwave. She whipped her head round quickly towards the door again and was met by the gossamer caress of something against her shoulder. Paranoia could only barely stifle a shriek as she looked over, expecting dead, rotting fingers to have gripped her side, accompanied by a ghoulish grin.

Her long, blonde ponytail was resting on her shoulder and nothing more. What's more, the look back into the hallway revealed only a tightly closed door. There was no flickering light from outside and no rust-colored stains on her carpet. Everything was the same as before. Paranoia sighed to herself. Perhaps she was so hungry that she had started to hallucinate. Chalking up the experience to a vivid dream, she clicked on the light and made her way back upstairs with food in hand. Hunger became her priority as she chastised herself for being so childish. She was a grown woman still fearful of the dark.

If only she knew that she was right to be afraid.

Half an hour had passed as she lay curled beneath the sheets, her empty dishes stacked next to her bed from midnight snacks long passed. Paranoia's clothes were strewn over the side of a bedroom chair; jeans still crumpled on the floor after a long struggle to pry them down her swollen thighs. Her pneumatic figure was lain bare with only loose bits of sheet to contain her newly packed bulges. She buried her cheeks into her chubby upper arms, stretching her fatness as thin as possible as she yawned and sighed from fullness. Try as she might to curl between the covers, she could not get to sleep.

She had heard the door open again.

Her blood ran cold. Like a terrified child she pulled the covers tight over her body, the voluminous silky fabric easily housing her like a tent upon her single bed. She peeked through the blankets with one open eye as she heard a noise ascend the stairs towards her bedroom. The handle jiggled.

The lock came apart with a click.

Something entered the room. It dragged behind it what looked to be a pair of mannequins. As far as Paranoia could tell, it was not human and neither were its guests. Dead, rotting hands held the props by the upper jaws, dug so deeply that they oozed whatever it was inside of them onto her floor with a sickening dripping noise. The creature itself was hairless, with wide-unblinking eyes and wore no clothing. It hobbled about on its back legs with all the grace of a crippled dog caught underneath a car. Its back was slouched as it shuffled along with its load, taking awkward steps which appeared, for the sake of any better descriptive, to be missing a few seconds of time between them. It moved as though caught in stop motion and turned creakily as it began to arrange the furniture in her room. It was smarter than any dog as it was aware of what it was doing.

Paranoia could hardly breathe, too scared to move a muscle as she watched it prop a slender mannequin along the edge of her bed to face her. It sat the other one on the chair with her clothes on it and positioned it to face her as well. With the hands out of their mouthes, she could see their hollowed out faces, devoid of eyes and teeth throats gaping wide. It started to rub its hands along the wall, staining the white paint of the apartment with what Paranoia could only assume was the same crimson liquid from downstairs, scrawling incantations in the darkness. Words which paranoia could not read in the darkness had an effect on the mannequins who began to click.

Wooden joints covered in sinewy layer of meaty flesh jostled together as the clicking noise grew more intense. Skinny arms clacked against skinny legs, toothless mouths opened and closed to wet clicking. Paranoia tightened the covers around herself trying not to scream. The creature, finished with his work added a few extra lines of text to the bottom corner of his masterpiece and approached the side of the bed. Paranoia squinted at the message through half-open eyes in an attempt to focus on something, anything else, other than was was happening. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

"You should always keep your promises."

It folded back on itself at the ankles in the most inhuman way possible, skittered along on its sharp, pointed nails, positioned itself underneath her bed and awaited the right moment to strike.

The mannequins ceased their idle clicking and fell silent. This is where it began.

Her body began to change. A little bit at first, but she could feel the tight covers attempt to pull away from her naked form. With the creature under her bed and the two mannequins to the side, Paranoia could only surmise that was was happening took place directly between the sheets.

Her hips began to grow rounder and stretched the length of her covers. One or two pounds every few seconds were added to her frame to subtly expand her dimensions. She pulled her arms tighter around herself to feel her breasts grow slightly fuller, with inches of milky white skin beginning to ooze out of the gap of her arms. Her arms themselves were growing even flabbier as time went by. She buried her face into them and shut her eyes tight, praying that everything would go away.

Over the next half hour, she had added another 50 pounds to her frame. This was the fattest she had ever been and it was a struggle to stay in place. Even laying on her side, she could feel much of it going to her hips and ass which in turn forced her to scissor her legs apart. The space between her crotch grew hot and sweatier as inches of new fat formed and made their way across the roundness of her hips. She had grown to a little under 300 pounds and was growing ever more aware of her belly as it sagged down to join the widening prospects of her lap.

Another hour passed and more weight was added to Paranoia's body. A little over 110 pounds made its way onto every little part of her as the rate of her fattening increased. She could now feel herself growing in the silence of her room. The once abundant covers now seemed to barely cover the grand expanses of her flesh. She shot towards her projected goal of 300 pounds and gradually fattened up well beyond her estimate under the watchful gaze of her eyeless voyeurs. Her once graceful thighs had swelled tremendously. Her hips and buttocks were stretched with new fat. Her belly now hung out to the side and threatened to bloat off the bed. Paranoia struggled to contain herself as she wrapped her meaty arms around her breasts and belly, drawing her thighs as close as her gut would allow as the covers stretched thin to contain her. The once abundant fabric was now quite snug, bringing to mind a startling revelation of her dimensions. She was literally big enough to wear a tent and showed no signs of stopping any time soon. Paranoia began to sob in silence as she felt her flabby cheeks sink deeper into the crux of her upper arm, only to realize that it was softer than her pillows.

More time and more weight accentuated her form. It was though she were suspended in sheets of softness, her own body jealous of the bed which it lay upon. It wanted to become softer, more comfortable, twisted by whatever dark incantation the creature had scrawled upon her wall. Another hour would see her weight increase further as her massive thighs reached the size of her waistline at the start of the night. Rolls of flab formed at her side, forming racks of fat that settled down to the bulging curve of her ass' new shelf. Her breasts grew and billowed out from the confines of her upper arms, sinking into her chin as they reached monstrous proportions.

When Paranoia breached 600 pounds, she could feel the bed creak underneath her size. The blankets which had once encased her now lay atop her like a loose fitting table cloth as her belly and hips continued to surge forward in opposite directions. She dare not move out of fear of making even the slightest sound, alerting the creature beneath her bed to her arousal with the threat of fattening her up further or worse. She was helpless and engorged, her long blonde hair no longer reaching quite as far as she billowed with new curves. The size of her breasts alone rivaled the pillows she lay upon and the fat of her upper arms competed with the rolls of her sides, forcing them further and further apart. The blankets were gradually being torn away from her as she could no longer cocoon her growing blubber, her fat manipulated by invisible hands to lay her vulnerable.

All that weight grew uncomfortable with each passing second. She had to change her position whilst she still at the size to do so. In the darkness, without much else to distract her, she contemplated the appearance her once chubby-figure now buried beneath so many extra rolls and folds. The figure she was so unhappy with was now one she would vow never to let go if she ever escaped her new elephantine form. Arms sunk upon breasts, breasts quivered upon belly, belly sagged across thighs and threatened to pour over the edge of the bed. The great rolling hills of her tremendous hips and ass obscured her vision from the eyeless mannequins that sat either side of her which she assumed to still be there in spite of losing sight of them in the last hour. The weight just kept pouring on.

She could use the leverage of her blubber to mask the sound of her shifting weight. Allowing herself to relax, she rolled over ever so slightly into the bulk of her fat. From her shoulders to her knees, Paranoia was coated in new curves as the extra fat settled into neat rolls and folds. Having gained weight so rapidly and without the benefit of exercise or movement, she was surprised to find how clumsy she had become. Something so simple required her to expend a great amount of energy even to turn onto her back. Her blubber flowed like milk in a saucer and rippled with every inch she attempted to move. Her butt begrudgingly sunk underneath her bulk as her belly aimed itself towards the far corner of the room. With her belly button and much of her fatness still adrift to one side of the bed, she was treated towards a view of the ceiling as she contemplated her fate.

Something was inscribed onto the ceiling with the same messy scrawl drawn with the dead, rotting fingers of the thing which had made its way into her room. It continued behind her, drawing more ornate and disturbing figures, runic incantations and devilish designs. The whole wall behind her was an ornately diabolical blueprint which had outlined her gain, with crude stick figures encased by a meaty outline. For it to have done that, meant it was no longer under her bed. It loomed into the corner over her vision and cast it's long, warped shadow as Paranoia mouthed the creature's message with wide, unblinking eyes.

A sound escaped her throat.

"I know you're still awake."

Author's note: Happy Halloween Everyone!

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