Phantom Gains - by Marlow ~BBW, ~MWG, paranormal, intrigue

Discussion in 'Fantasy/Science Fiction Archive' started by Marlow, Dec 7, 2014.

  1. Feb 1, 2015 #101

    md2069

    md2069

    md2069

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    Definitely one of the best stories posted here. Even if you take out the weight gain aspect this would still be a great story excellent work!
     
  2. Feb 1, 2015 #102

    weaverof

    weaverof

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    very interesting. I love a ghost story and I love a story that plays to my kink...awesome mashup
     
  3. Feb 3, 2015 #103

    Marlow

    Marlow

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    Chapter 32


    “Holy shit,” Raleigh stammered from the back seat. “Holy shit. Holy shit.” She huddled shivering under Rory’s emergency blankets, staring up out the window at the crisp midnight sky. She was covered in splinters and dust from shattered furniture and wet from her tumbles on the ice.

    “No, the emergency kit worked fine,” Rory droned into his phone as he eased the car around an icy curve in the road. “The thing backed off and when I put the scissors on him he…I mean, I guess he couldn’t move anymore.”

    “Dude, I am so jealous,” Adam’s voice sighed over the phone.

    “Adam,” Rory warned.

    “Sorry. Look, I’m glad to hear it worked. Kinda surprised, actually. I put that kit together based on a list I found on an old Angelfire website.”

    “Oh my god.”

    “Okay, so you guys are safe. Good. Look, we’ll need to debrief on this, but I can’t really talk right now.”

    “What? Why? Adam, we just fought an actual fucking ghost and suddenly you aren’t interested—”

    “Scarlett was in an accident,” Adam interrupted calmly. “Messed up the truck and scared the heck out of her.”

    Rory exhaled. “Shit, is she okay?”

    “Physically, yeah, sounds like. But her anxiety’s, uh, exploded. I’m driving out to pick her up and bring her home for a little bit.”

    “You’re driving all the way out to Thalia and back? Wow, man. But yeah, sounds like she needs to come home. Damn.”

    “Yep. Look, I’ll be back in a day or so. Ghost hunting will have to wait—don’t do anything till I’m back.” Adam clicked his tongue. “Keep Raleigh away from the house. Keep yourselves out of danger.”

    “Will do,” Rory replied. “I’m bringing her to my place. Parents are out of town this week. Good luck, man. Talk soon.”

    He hung up and tossed the phone aside. A biting wind shook the car.

    “Thalia?” Raleigh’s voice asked from the back seat. “I got a call from their ghost department or whatever today. Shouldn’t have blown them off, I guess.”

    Rory scratched his beard. “Yeah, about that.”

    The car trundled off the farm road and sped through town. Its headlights flickered a few times and the dashboard dimmed once or twice, but as they got further away from the house and closer to the suburb’s more populated center, things settled.

    The town was all but dead at that time of night. Few of the houses they passed had any lights on and the only other vehicle they saw was a lonely snowplow salting the roads. Rory’s house wasn’t a great distance away, a matter of only five or six miles, but the trip out of the woodlands and through the suburb’s labyrinthine developments seemed to take hours.

    Raleigh had only visited Rory’s house for his family’s big dinners and had never seen it when it wasn’t full of neighbors and extended family. It wasn’t a particularly big home, but empty as it now was, it seemed cavernously huge.

    It was astonishingly warm compared to Raleigh’s poorly heated and poorly insulated house. Leaving behind the constant chill to which she’d grown so accustomed was a deep relief. Its lights were soft and white; the modern, sensible furnishings they illuminated were a jarring change from the creaking, haunted antiques. For Raleigh, it was as though Rory’s car had been a time machine. It had rescued her from imprisonment in the grimy past and returned her to the blessed present.

    Adam’s emergency kit had included a quick guide to ghost-proofing one’s home and Rory spent a while setting these wards and defenses. He pulled the sage wreath from around his neck and burned it in a large serving bowl, carrying it around the house to get a little of its smoke into every room. He set off the kitchen’s smoke detector, but was quickly able to yank out its batteries.

    He scattered the ashes of the sage on the front walk and left the blackened bowl on the back porch. He collected every piece of iron he could find—the fire poker, a pie iron, a couple of garden rods, and a box of hardware from his father’s workbench. He set a piece or two in front of every door to the outside and on the sill of every window. He was setting a wrought iron skillet in front of the fireplace when the sound of footsteps froze him.

    “It’s just me,” Raleigh said quietly.

    He turned with a nervous, relieved laugh. Seeing her, what had started as an assuring glance quickly became an amazed, blatant stare.

    While Rory had been sealing the thresholds, Raleigh had gotten cleaned up and dressed. She’d done her best with the hand-me-downs Rory’s sister had left behind when she’d moved out, but there was no way to tastefully contain Raleigh’s thickness.

    The blue tee shirt clung to her every curve and roll. No bra had come anywhere close to fitting her and her breasts and nipples were more visible than she probably would have preferred. A depression where her navel was punctuated her smooth, rounded abdomen. The bottom roll of her gut and lovehandles hung shamelessly out from where the little shirt could no longer reach, creating a soft tringle of flesh atop the snug waistline of her overtaxed shorts. On Rory’s sister, who was somewhat pudgy herself, they had been loose running shorts; on Raleigh, they looked more like overmatched spandex.

    She bit her lip, a vulnerability in her eyes. She’d set aside her characteristic west-coast confidence and simply looked disenchanted and exhausted.

    “Hi,” Rory breathed. “You look a little warmer. How are you feeling?”

    “I don’t know. Tired, mostly.” She walked over, wobbling, and sat down next to him on the hearth. “Still kinda shocked.”

    “Hard to suddenly have to believe in ghosts?”

    She hung her head. “No, I’ve…known about the ghost for a while. I just tried to hide it from you guys for some reason. I guess I didn’t think you’d understand.”

    “Understand what?”

    “Well, she and I, we’d…uh, we’d become friends. I was trying to, um, help her.” Raleigh sniffled a bit and rubbed at her eyes. “This is all so stupid. Right when I was starting to feel okay about things…boom.”

    Rory reached a tentative hand up to her shoulder and rubbed it gently. “I didn’t get the impression that what attacked you back there was a ‘she,’ though,” he wondered.

    Raleigh lifted her head and pushed her hair back. “That wasn’t her. It was a man. I think it was…I think it was whoever killed her.” She took a deep breath, tears falling from her cheeks. “He starved her till there was nothing left.”

    “Soren,” Rory realized, retracting his hand.

    “What?”

    “Soren. Sven’s brother.” Rory scratched his beard. “Sven was the original owner of your house, back when it was—”

    Raleigh grabbed him. “How…holy shit, how do you know about them?” She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, you’re a detective. Right.”

    “No, I’m not,” he admitted. “Adam was right, even if I refused to accept it. I…have a sensitivity. I’m a medium.”

    “You can…read minds?” Raleigh gasped, letting him go.

    “What? No. I get…I just get these intuitions. And I have…dreams.” He turned himself on the hearth to face her. “And I’ve been dreaming a lot. About an old frontier inn and the beautiful, kind husband and wife who ran it. Sven and…Heloise.”

    Raleigh paled. She bit her lip.

    “They were killed by Sven’s brother, Soren. I don’t really know why. Jealousy, maybe, or some righteous indignation at them being so, I don’t know…”

    “Fat?” Raleigh murmured, protectively covering her stomach.

    Rory grimaced. “I guess. Maybe. So Adam was wrong…we thought there was one ghost pitting victims against each other…sounds more like there are multiple ghosts fighting each other. Maybe fighting…over you?”

    “Well, I’ve always wanted people fighting over me, but this is…fuck.” She let out a sad laugh. “Tell you what—Heloise is still my pick. This other shithead didn’t win any friends tonight.”

    “Maybe that’s what ticked him off. Sounds like you and Heloise have recently become, uh…”

    “Fatter,” Raleigh admitted.

    “…friendlier. Closer. Soren was losing you, so he lashed out.” Rory sat back. “This is crazy.”

    “Yep,” Raleigh agreed, forcing a smile. “Good thing you showed up with your, uh, picnic basket, though.”

    “Emergency kit.”

    “Right.” She reached over and took his hand. “But seriously, thank you. I’ve been a crappy friend. And you’ve been so nice to me all year. I’m sorry.”

    He squeezed her soft hand. “This is the Midwest, Raleigh. Being nice is what we do.”

    She smiled and wiped her eyes again, exhaling. “Stop. I might start almost liking it here.”

    “Heavens forbid,” he said, standing. “First, though, let’s get a bed ready for you. You can stay in Roxie’s room, since you’re already in her clothes.”

    Raleigh tugged the shirt down as she stood. “Barely.”
     
  4. Feb 3, 2015 #104

    The_Hero

    The_Hero

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    Wondering how large Raleigh is at this point, considering I think she was 225 just before the first episode in the diner, plus now that she has embraced it...
     
  5. Feb 3, 2015 #105

    strataadvance

    strataadvance

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    Chapter before last she had reached 250.A friend of mine who also follows
    this thought she was 300.My guess was 275 tops based on
    previous gains.I can't Wait to find out myself.
     
  6. Feb 4, 2015 #106

    Tom the pig 8

    Tom the pig 8

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    Another very good chapter. Thank you
     
  7. Feb 6, 2015 #107

    Marlow

    Marlow

    Marlow

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    Chapter 33


    “Adam was kinda close, I guess,” Rory mused, staring out the window. The morning sun played over the snowy hill in his back yard.

    “Close to what?” asked Raleigh, looking up from her second bowl of cereal. She looked strangely witchlike, eyes tired after the eventful night and bedhead freezing her red hair into a bizarre shape.

    Rory turned and sipped his tea. “His theory is that ghosts subsist on a human’s, uh, spiritual energy. Each ghost has a particular energy that empowers them…it’s usually an emotion or a feeling or something like that, and when it’s strongly felt, the ghost gets…stronger, I guess. Which allows it to manifest itself more, and in bigger ways.”

    Raleigh nodded, mouth full.

    “We were trying to figure out what your ghost needed. Fear? Anger? Adam was beginning to lean towards greed, or maybe hunger.”

    “Pretty close, I guess.” Raleigh drank the milk from her emptied bowl, sat back, and rubbed her gut. The old tee shirt left much of it exposed. “Turns out it’s fullness?”

    Rory laughed, watching her midriff jiggle. “Something like that, I guess. For your Heloise, at least. Still don’t know much about Soren’s ghost.”

    “Fuck that guy,” Raleigh grunted, reaching for a piece of toast. “He’ll get his.”

    “Oh? What’s your plan?”

    “I don’t have one,” she replied, buttering the toast. “But I’m pretty sure Heloise does. I think if she can get strong enough, she can win this fight, or whatever.”

    Rory pulled up a chair next to Raleigh. “And for that, she needs your help.”

    “Yep. And I promised her I’d help.”

    “You still want to, after what happened?”

    “Especially after what happened. More than ever, Rory. This ‘Soren’ guy may be scary, but all he’s really done is convince me that helping Heloise is the right thing to do.” She took a bite of the toast. “So I’m gonna need to eat.”

    He nodded.

    “A lot.”

    He nodded again.

    She swallowed the bite, eyeing him. He looked as innocent and as harmless as could be, lumberjack beard bristly after a long night, huddled in his Scandinavian sweater, but Raleigh’s expression remained dubious.

    “I have to say,” she ventured, leaning back and letting her shirt ride up a little further, “you seem weirdly unfazed by this.” Her gut sat proudly in her lap, beaming.

    He shrugged. “The things these dreams have showed me lately, Raleigh…inexplicable murders…and now I’ve seen monsters made out of antique furniture, ghosts powered by overeating…” He shook his head. “It’s like Adam says: this stuff doesn’t care if you believe in it or not.”

    “I’ve been hearing that a lot lately,” said Raleigh, taking another bite. “And you don’t mind having some huge fat girl with her flab spilling out of her clothes eating up all the food in your house?”

    He laughed. “Nah, not really.”

    “Huh.” She pulled her shirt back down and reached for the mug of coffee. “Wow, I thought this plan would be a harder sell.”

    “I think it’s a great plan,” he opined, springing up. “How do you like your eggs?”

    She liked them in several different ways, it turned out, and in large quantities. Her ability to pack away serving after serving amazed him. His ability to cook up so many treats with such impressive skill and flavor impressed her.

    When at last she’d had her fill of breakfast she shuffled over to the living room and lounged on the couch, massaging her pot belly and half dozing. It no longer flattened out when she was on her back, instead rising up like a cake. The idea of cake danced around in her head for a while and she wondered if Rory would be able to whip one up.

    He probably could, she thought. He had surprising culinary ability for a man who lived with his parents and seemed at home in a kitchen, even now, as he bustled about cleaning up from what had tuned into four or five different breakfasts.

    Feeling impish and emboldened by hunger, Raleigh decided to try to test his ability. Her lunch requests, therefore, became a little creative, leading to a selection of grilled cheese sandwiches unlike anything she’d ever seen—but she had to give him credit. Midwesterners knew what to do with cheese.

    Fascinated and emboldened by attraction, Rory decided to try to test her capacity. His lunch servings, therefore, became a little excessive, leading to quantities of dairy product that should have proved sickening—but he had to give her credit. She munched through it all with little sign of discomfort.

    He had brought out a two-liter of pepsi to pour her a beverage, but she had simply snatched it from his hands and sucked at it between sandwiches. Her sandwiches finished, she now chugged what remained in the bottle—about half—in practiced, rhythmic gulps. Rory stared at the level of pop as it descended through the bottle’s neck and then at Raleigh’s neck as it swallowed the last dregs.

    She set the bottle down on the coffee table, drew her head back, and unleashed a rumbling belch that lasted almost as long as the chugging had.

    “Whoa,” she giggled after. “Drank that a little too fast.” She rolled up her shirt and rubbed her belly, feeling the carbonated liquid join what was already an overcrowded and raucous party.

    Rory whistled. “Raleigh, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve never seen anyone eat the way you do.” He stacked up the empty plates. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

    “I’m not sure there’s a right way to take that. But I wouldn’t have thought so—urrp—either,” she breathed, folding her hands over her belly. “I think it’s Heloise. I can feel her hunger in me…it’s amazing.”

    “And she could pack it away, too, from what I’ve seen,” said Rory. “She was, gosh, probably twice your size…” He glanced down at Raleigh’s exposed gut and the pale, quaggy thighs that spilled out across the couch cushion. “…and so comfortable in her skin.”

    Raleigh perked up. “You saw that in your dreams?”

    “Yeah,” he nodded. “A lot of her. She was a big girl…and she loved it.” He tapped the stack of plates and carried them into the kitchen. His voice carried back as he continued, “And it seemed like everybody around her loved it, too.”

    “Huh. Can you, uh, tell me more about her?” Raleigh leaned herself back into the soft couch, stifling another belch. “I feel like I don’t know nearly as much about her as she knows about me…”

    “What do you mean?” Rory asked, reappearing with two bags of chips and a long case of Mountain Dew cans. “Thought you two were ‘bffs’ now.”

    Raleigh graciously accepted the chips and a pop can. “Well, yeah, but she…she can’t talk. There isn’t a whole lot of communication in our relationship, I guess. It consists mostly of us doing nice things for each other.”

    “Like her possessing you and taking you on feeding frenzies.” Rory plopped down onto the couch next to her and produced a small sandwich he’d made for himself.

    “Well, that’s me doing a nice thing for her, I guess. In exchange, you see, she’s been doing all my work assignments for me.” She chomped into a chip.

    “No shit? And what does a ghost from 1870 know about graphic design?”

    “I don’t know. Probably nothing. She probably just ‘unlocks my hidden career potential’ or some shit. Or maybe she learned it all from me…I didn’t know much about supernatural gluttony until she came along, either, so I guess we’re just good at sharing.”

    “Sounds like a fair trade, I suppose,” said Rory, setting down his sandwich.

    “Speaking of trades,” Raleigh chimed, shifting her weight, “I’ve got an idea.”

    “Let’s hear it.”

    She rolled up her shirt and lifted the bottom swell of her belly out from the waistband of the old shorts. “You rub my belly, so it’s a little less angry when I start my next meal.” She bit her lip. “If that’s not too weird.”

    “I’d be happy to,” he replied, setting a tentative hand on the swell just below her navel. “And in exchange?”

    “Yeah, just like that. Uh, in exchange,” she said with a mischievous grin, “I eat your sandwich.” With surprising quickness, she snatched it up and shoved it in her mouth before he could protest.
     
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  8. Feb 6, 2015 #108

    Hologram

    Hologram

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    ....and this just moved into overdrive. :)


    Keep up the good work, you are a very talented writer (even without the WG fiction in the story) and I hope you continue to produce many more wonderful chapters.

    Thanks
    &
    Cheers

    Holo
     
  9. Feb 8, 2015 #109

    Marlow

    Marlow

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    Chapter 34


    Rory tucked the cell phone between his ear and his shoulder and continued rummaging through the upstairs closet.

    “Too bad about the truck,” he said. “But how’s Scarlett?”

    Adam sighed on the other line. “The doctor said that physically, she’s fine. Not even a bruise. But she’s pretty down…isn’t saying much…hasn’t really gotten out of bed since I’ve been here.”

    “Ouch. That’s hard.”

    “Yeah. She got clearance to come home for a week or so to rest up, though. I just have to talk her out of bed.” He clicked his teeth. “When I tell her the plan, though, she won’t be able to pack fast enough.”

    “You have a plan?”

    “Of course I have a plan. I had all night in the car to ponder things. You and Raleigh haven’t seen any signs of the entity at your place, have you”

    “Nothing yet.”

    “Good. So it’s waiting for her to come home. That means we can go on the offensive.”

    “That sounds dangerous.”

    Adam laughed. It was disturbingly maniacal. “For the ghost, maybe. We’re going in guns a-blazing, Rory. I think I can make my trap work. I’m gonna get a hold of this bastard and figure out how to expel him for good.”

    “Sounds like a plan,” Rory grunted, pulling a tote bag from the top shelf. A pile of other linens toppled down on him. “I should catch you up, though: we’re pretty sure there’s more than one ghost.”

    “Holy heck. What?”

    “I can give you the full rundown once you’re back, but long story short, we’re dealing with at least two. The thing that attacked us was a male spirit; I think that’s the brother, Soren, the guy who murdered the original owners.”

    The sound of Adam scratching notes reached through the phone line. “You sure about that?”

    “An intuition, I guess.” Rory set the bag aside and tried to shove the linens back up onto the shelf. “But, look, that’s not the spirit Raleigh’s been seeing. She’s sure of it. Her apparitions are a woman, like she told you. We figure it’s the wife, Heloise. And she seems…friendly, apparently.”

    “Doubtful,” Adam snapped. “These entities aren’t altruistic, Rory. They have only their own interest in mind because that’s the only reason they still exist.”

    A bag of mothballs spilled out from the shelf. Rory swore under his breath. “Sorry, what?”

    “The energy, whatever it is for each ghost. Whatever great mental or emotional or psychosomatic output anchored their dead spirit to the living world…that energy is all the ghost is and all it sees and all it wants and it just uses its victims to get it.”

    “But—”

    “And there’s no friendship in that, man. Maybe they get it by pretending to be friendly for a while, but in the end the people who let the entities use them end up, well, used up.”

    Rory’s stomach twisted. He gave up on collecting the mothballs and shoved the closet doors shut. “That sounds bad.”

    “Right? So, look, have you guys had any ideas on what the energy might be? Maybe there’s an emotion she tends to be experiencing whenever the apparitions occur? Some feeling that might be triggering or attracting them?”

    Rory shifted the phone to his other ear and picked up the tote bag. “Actually, yeah. This is gonna sound dumb, but apparently it’s, uh, fullness.”

    Adam’s pencil stopped. “It’s what?”

    “Fullness,” Rory ventured again. He made his way out of the bedroom. “Like, she has a big meal, and feels stuffed, and then poof: ghost.”

    “Okay, weird. Maybe satisfaction, or regret?”

    “Yeah, I don’t think it’s regret.”

    “Uh-huh. I’ll look into it. I haven’t read about any cases with that…pattern. Huh.”

    “First time for everything. So, what do you think we should do?”

    “Keep on my plan. Scarlett and I will be back in town probably late tomorrow night. She and I will set up my trap and see what we get. Once we’ve done that, we can figure out the multiple ghosts thing and deal with each in turn.”

    “Alright,” said Rory, heading down the stairs.

    “Until then, you keep Raleigh at your place; keep her safe and out of contact with the entity…or entities, whatever. And I guess…if the trigger is fullness, then, uh, just don’t let her eat.”

    “Um…”

    “Yeah, that sounds harsh. Hm. No, look, I think it’s the safest thing. She’ll survive for a day. It’s like a fast, right?”

    “Um.”

    “There’s no choice. It’s too dangerous for her right now. Whatever you do, Rory, don’t let Raleigh eat anything else until we know it’s safe.”

    Rory stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned his gaze left, into the living room. “Sure thing, Adam. See you tomorrow.” He hung up.

    Across the way in the living room, behind a coffee table covered with emptied plates and crushed pop cans, the bloated paunch of the stunningly overfull Raleigh swelled up from the middle of the couch like a glacial moraine. The poor old tee shirt had given up any hope of stretching across it. Rory gaped for a moment: it couldn’t have been possible, but the girl seemed not only bloated, but somehow even heavier than she had been that morning.

    “Raleigh,” he called, stepping into the living room, “there’s something we—”

    “There you are!” she huffed, perking up from her food coma. “Sorry to interrupt, but…” She waved a plump arm toward the picture window. “Rory, I’d like you to meet Heloise.”

    Rory hesitated, turned, and dropped the tote bag.

    The obese spirit of the indulgent barmaid barmaid sat smiling in the recliner, hands folded over an enormous belly that both swelled up from her lap and spilled down over it. She wore an elegant white gown that hugged her every roll, pouch, and crease of flab. Atop the belly, squeezed up by her arms, sat a pair of breasts each larger than her head; their cleavage, pushed up by the dress, was deep enough for a forearm. Three soft chins curved around her smiling, pudgy face. She was vaguely translucent, with the hazy colors of the recliner visible behind her.

    Heloise wasn’t yet as big as she had been in Rory’s dreams, but she was getting close. Raleigh looked back and forth at her and Rory, thrilled with herself.

    Rory swallowed. “It’s nice to meet you, Heloise,” he ventured, giving a small bow, “in person, finally. I…I’ve seen you in my, uh, dreams. And I spoke once with your husband. He was a kind and generous man.”

    Heloise nodded solemnly. “Thank you,” she replied. “I miss him dearly.” Her lips moved when she spoke, but her soft voice, with its delicate French accent, seemed to skip Rory’s ears and manifest itself directly in his head. “I hope our…unusual lifestyle did not disturb you.”

    “Oh, uh, not at all, ma’am.”

    “I am grateful. It certainly disturbed my brother-in-law.”

    “Yeah, it seemed that way. I’m so sorry.”

    Raleigh sat up. “Wait, can you hear what she’s saying?”

    “What? Yeah.” He scratched his beard. “Can’t you?”

    “All I hear is the gurgling in my stomach,” she replied, patting it. “No, I’ve never heard her voice. I mean, she usually just smiles at me.”

    Rory turned back to Heloise, who was smiling patiently. “What’s, uh, what’s up with that?” he asked.

    “You, Rory, are the one with the gift of senses,” the huge woman answered. “Perhaps, as you spoke with my Sven, so too may I speak with you.”

    “Can’t Raleigh have that gift? I think she deserves to hear you.”

    “Ah, but Raleigh already has a very different and much more important gift,” Heloise said with a wink. She looked over at Raleigh, whose body rocked with a stifled belch.

    “Why did she just wink at me?” Raleigh groaned.

    Rory grimaced. “Because you’re…special. I think you and Heloise have some kind of connection to one another.” He looked back at Heloise. “In my dreams, I saw Raleigh as a…lodger, I guess, in your inn. But there’s no way she could have been there when you were, um, alive.”

    “Wait, what?”

    “She is a guest in my home,” Heloise said flatly, as if that explained everything. “And your dreams will show that as they will. But Sven knows much more about that than I do…it was his gift, as well. My gift, you see, was something else.” She shook her belly.

    “Uh huh,” said Rory, moving a few plates and sitting down on the edge of the coffee table. He turned back to Raleigh. “You and she have similar, uh, gifts, apparently.”

    Raleigh raise an eyebrow at the obese phantom.

    Rory banged thoughts around in his head. “But look, Heloise, where are we going? Raleigh nearly got killed last night. You may have this spiritual connection with her and she may trust you, but—”

    “But your friend Adam tells you that I cannot be trusted,” the ghost finished. “He is the one who has poked his head around the house in the name of ridding it of my presence, I think.” Heloise rose up from the chair, straightening her huge form effortlessly. She levitated a few inches off the floor, her enormity looming over Rory. “He fears that I am hungry for Raleigh’s life and soul,” she hissed, curling her fingers.

    Rory swallowed and instinctively tried to sit further back on the table. Raleigh’s eyes darted back and forth.

    Heloise’s face fell. “He is wrong, Rory. I am hungry for food. I want to fill this great belly with choice cuts and fattening confections and exotic delicacies and warming drinks and all the things that were taken from me with my life and my husband.” She rubbed her belly wistfully. “For a century and a half I have hoped for rescue, but I remain as chained and starved in death as I was at the end of my life. Soren sustains himself by my imprisonment. He is empowered by my suffering.” She looked over to Raleigh. “Your beautiful friend here has given me hope.”

    “Is she saying nice things about me?” Raleigh chimed. Rory nodded.

    “She has overcome her fears to show me kindness and friendship,” Heloise continued. “She did not come into this situation by choice, and for that I can only apologize, but it was by her choice that she has stayed.” The ghost floated over to the couch and lowered herself to sit next to Raleigh. She looked Rory in the eyes and concluded, “I would never wish her harm. Indeed, the strength Raleigh has given me has helped me protect her from Soren these past months.”

    “Until last night,” said Rory.

    “Yes. Something has strengthened him and he has taken power over the house. But your friend Adam, while somewhat misguided, is quite clever. It is my hope he can see past his own ambitions enough to find a way to remove Soren’s awful spirit from my—our—home.”

    Rory stood. “And until then?”

    “Until then, I need strength. Soren has grown stronger than me, by some unknown machination, but there is strength available to me yet. If Raleigh can keep me strong, I can keep Raleigh safe.” Heloise smiled. The couch and wall behind her began to seem clearer; she was fading away. “And then your Adam can spin his web. But Raleigh must be attended, Rory. She is the key.”

    “What? To what? Heloise!” he called, but she was gone. The couch cushions weren’t even indented where she had sat. “Damn.”

    “Well?” Raleigh asked, propping her head on her elbow. “What was all that?”

    Rory stared. “Certainty,” he said. “Sounds like you were right. If Heloise can get strong enough, the good ghost can beat the bad ghost.”

    “Awesome,” Raleigh chirped. “I love being right. I also love being full, so how about you find some ice cream?”

    “I can do that,” he laughed. “Oh, and here—I found something that might fit you a little better.” He passed her the tote bag he'd dug from the closet.
     
  10. Feb 8, 2015 #110

    strataadvance

    strataadvance

    strataadvance

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    The story gets better and better. And yet I am surprised by how easy it is to follow. Your imagery is fabulous.
    However. Just one thing if you please. Some idea or estimate of Heloise's current spirit weight and dream weight by Rory would be wonderful as soon as you can work it in. And. Raleighs weight. Everyone reading this has their own ideas. My friend who follows this with me feels that Raleigh had reached 300 lbs when Soren attacked. My guess was 275.I feel that the Dream Heloise was 500 + lbs.I hope that a dialouge of these things is imminent between Raleigh and Rory. AND.That a measured and documented Gain is in the cards . Where Raleigh and Rory take note of her weight and make a strategy of how fast and how much Raleigh needs to grow to help Heloise.
    But what do I know? I tried to write two stories on FF and had results that pale in comparison to this Masterpiece. Thanks also for the frequent updates. :)
     
  11. Feb 9, 2015 #111

    DaveTheBrave

    DaveTheBrave

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    I think over the last few months I've been checking on this story all too often. Not only is the story clever, interesting, and suspenseful, but the fatter Raleigh gets the longer I hope it goes...
     
  12. Feb 10, 2015 #112

    Jake (JMJ)

    Jake (JMJ)

    Jake (JMJ)

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    Great addition as usual, really amazing story .

    Jake (JMJ)
     
  13. Feb 10, 2015 #113

    lurkymcduck

    lurkymcduck

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    Hm, have a feeling Soren might be getting power from Scarlett? Can't wait for the next installment!
     
  14. Feb 11, 2015 #114

    Q Bomb

    Q Bomb

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    I have been intrigued for a while about what's going on with Scarlett and what will happen with her.
     
  15. Feb 11, 2015 #115

    Marlow

    Marlow

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    Chapter 35


    Rory closed the front door behind him and zipped up his sweater as he stepped into the cold. The sun was shining its last light of the day, leaving the sky a rich violet.

    Adam’s old station wagon purred in the driveway. Adam himself stood leaning against it, arms crossed. He was wearing fingerless gloves, his black graduation cloak (to which he had stapled a collection of sage leaves and fast food salt packets), combat boots, and war paint. A heavy steel chain draped from his neck like a bandolier.

    “Wow,” was all Rory could say, arms spread.

    “Dad always said to dress for the job you want,” Adam replied. He handed Rory a plastic lunchbox. “Here, I brought you stuff to replenish the emergency kit. Just in case.”

    “Uh, thanks. I’ll add it to the basket. How’s Scarlett?”

    “She’s sleeping in the back seat. I told her to stay home and rest, but she’s bound and determined to come help.” He shook his head. “I think she wants to make this her final project for her class.”

    “You don’t think it’s dangerous for her? I mean, if you need the help, I can come.”

    “No, no, no. Your sensitivity makes you a target. And you need to watch Raleigh. How is she, by the way? I should ask her some questions.”

    “Oh, uh, she’s…asleep,” Rory lied. “She’s been, uh, fasting all day, you remember? It’s draining.”

    “I bet. Haha, when we talked yesterday, you didn’t seem to like that plan.”

    Rory grimaced, thinking about how to respond. He didn’t feel like arguing. “I still don’t. Look, there’s something we need to…oh, hold on…” He reached into his pocket. “Phone’s…buzzing…”

    He held up his cell phone—the screen showed that Raleigh was calling. He raised an eyebrow.

    “You gonna get it?” Adam asked. “She might need something.”

    “She doesn’t have her phone with her. It was still in the house when we…got out.”

    Adam unfolded his arms. “Holy heck,” he breathed. “Do not answer.”

    “No shit, Adam.”

    Adam’s eyes flashed alternately with eagerness and terror. “Block the number. Turn the phone off—the entity is probably trying to reach out. We can’t let it find her. Here…” He opened the car door and rummaged in the center console, pulling out two more phones. “This is mine…and this one’s Scarlett’s. Hang on to those so we don’t bring them into the house and give the entity more, uh, avenues of escape.”

    Adam’s wide eyes were very persuasive. Rory accepted both phones.

    “We’d better get over there,” Adam continued. “Scarlett and I will go over and set the trap as quick as we can. Once we’ve got a hold of the entity—”

    “Entities.”

    “You really think so?”

    “Yes. You need to trust me on this one.”

    “Fine,” Adam conceded with a huff. “But I’m not trusting the ghosts, even if Raleigh thinks she does. Even if you think you do.”

    “Just give me a chance to communicate with it or them or whatever before you go all…exorcist.”

    Adam grinned. “Well, I’m glad you’re finally embracing your role as our medium. Alright. Once we’ve got a hold of the entity—or entities—I’ll have Scarlett come pick you guys up and we can decide how to proceed from there.”

    “Okay. Good. Thank you.”

    “Until then, you’ve got to be vigilant, man. The fact that he’s dialing phone numbers is bad…he’s growing stronger and bolder and we can’t let him find any more power, you got me? Raleigh cannot eat. She cannot think about eating, or food, or her weight, or whatever. Keep her mind off that stuff. It’s crucial.”

    “Got it,” Rory choked. He cleared his throat. “Good luck, man. Be safe.”

    “I will,” the big man replied. “I’ve been preparing for a night like this my whole life.” He crossed to the driver’s side and snapped his welding goggles onto his forehead. “Time to catch a frickin’ ghost.”

    Rory watched the car screech its way out of the driveway. “Make sure you catch the right one, Adam.”

    Adam attempted to peel out, but the old wagon wasn’t having it. It stalled once, growled back to life, and finally trundled its way down the street.

    With a heavy sigh, Rory trudged back up to the house and pushed open the front door, muttering under his breath. “Oh, and about the whole not-eating thing…”

    From the front entrance he headed into the kitchen, looking around. Two days of nonstop feasting had left it a disaster area and, as clean as he tended to be, he had given up on it for the moment.

    Dishes were piled in the sink. Those that hadn’t made it into the sink waited next to it, or on the kitchen table. Cookware mingled in with it all, pots and pans used to cook the food had frequently been commandeered to serve it as well. Scraps, crumbs, and splashes of sauce littered the surfaces and the floor along with emptied jars, cans, cartons, and boxes. Pillaged cupboards evidenced the ravenousness of whatever raiding party had ransacked the kitchen. The refrigerator door hung open and the interior was wholly empty, as though it were a freshly-delivered appliance, unused.

    Rory peeked into the freezer. It, too, had been thoroughly evacuated. He closed it again, shut the fridge, and stepped into the living room, tiptoeing around the culinary debris on the floor.

    A new after-dinner wasteland awaited him there. The top layer of the piles suggested a recent bout of desserts, though the refuse had mingled with the postprandial sweets, last night’s midnight snack, and yesterday’s desserts as well. Beverage containers had been stashed into a corner in a cache of cans, plastic and glass bottles, and jugs.

    One thing was missing: Raleigh. Rory scratched his beard, glancing around. He hadn’t been outside that long, had he?

    He cleared a spot on the coffee table and set Adam’s and Scarlett’s cellphones down. Scarlett’s, he noticed, was a dull and inexplicably familiar shade of green. Rory frowned at it, though he wasn’t sure why.

    A thump against the basement door rattled the house, revealing Raleigh’s presence. Rory skipped across the room in time to catch Raleigh in his arms as she opened the door and tumbled out.

    “Whoopsie,” she giggled, bouncing with a sharp hiccup.

    The tote bag he’d given her had contained a glimmering black cocktail dress with a rich red trim; it was a bountiful, oversized piece of clothing that somehow fit Raleigh perfectly. A particularly heavyset aunt had left it behind after a holiday gathering and it had sat in the closet, mostly forgotten by Rory’s much smaller family until its destiny had arrived in the form of Raleigh. She had reveled in its softness and its gentle grip on her own softness.

    Her softness was now in Rory’s precarious grip as he struggled to set her back on her feet. In her own grip was an open bottle of white wine; its contents sloshed to and fro along with the contents of Raleigh’s amazingly glutted gut. She had mentioned the day before that she’d last weighed in around 250 pounds, but as Rory wrestled with her swaying form he wondered if that number were high enough.

    She stood finally out of Rory’s hands and slumped back against the nearest wall, taking a swig from the bottle and resting a hand atop her belly, which despite gravity’s efforts jutted out firmly enough to form a convenient shelf under her bosom.

    “You’re out of beer,” she announced, unfocused eyes leering at him.

    “We’re out of everything,” he said with a laugh. “And that’s wine, not beer.”

    She rolled her eyes. “Of course it’s not beer. Hic! I just said, Rory, you’re out of…beer. Urrp.” She held up the bottle. “Hence why I have moved—hic!—moved on to the wine.”

    “And I assume it won’t be long till we’re out of that, too. You’re unbelievable, Raleigh…you cleaned out an entire household of food in two days.”

    “Well, clearly your little house—hic!—hold doesn’t know how to, y’know…live.” She pushed herself off the wall and grabbed his shoulder for support. “Will you help me up to…bed? I probably need a—hic!—need a nap before we do the next course. I’d help myself but I’m…I’m a little, y’know, tip—hic!—tipsy. And really…fucking full.” She emphasized this with a belch and took another swig from the bottle.

    “Sounds like a plan. Okay, here we go.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and was rewarded with the soft pliability of her lovehandles.

    She made a happy little sound at his touch and snuggled in tighter to his side. It was a wonderful sensation, but made their trip up the stairs slow and treacherous.

    “Fuck it,” she slurred after they’d finally reached the fourth step. “I can just sleep on the couch. Hulp!”

    “Good call,” wheezed Rory, who was supporting almost all of her ample weight. “Here you go. I’ll grab some blankets.”

    Raleigh stumbled back out into the living room, tripping loudly on a pile of dishes. Rory darted up to his sister’s bedroom and yanked off the bedspread and pillows.

    By the time he returned downstairs, Raleigh was halfway through pulling herself out of the dress. Apparently she was stuck.

    “Oh, you’re back,” she giggled. “Shit. Ah, fuck it, I’m too drunk to be—hic!—embarrassed. You wanna help me with this thing?”

    Rory tossed the heap of blankets onto the couch and dutifully stepped over to lend a hand. It took some wrangling, as the increasingly uncoordinated Raleigh was only making the process more difficult, but the dress was eventually flung to the floor. The effort of the final, successful tug sent Rory reeling and he caught himself in the recliner.

    Raleigh, miraculously, stayed upright, though it seemed she wouldn’t for long. She stood swaying and hiccupping in the center of the room, immodestly proud in her squishy nakedness.

    She took a long, steady pull from the bottle, until only half the wine remained. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head as her body shuddered, then set the bottle down on the coffee table, nearly tottering over in the process. She let out a long, drunken belch and when she opened her blissful eyes she caught sight of her reflection in the picture window.

    Angling herself a little to one side, she cradled her gut in her hands and bounced it up and down. “Aw, Rory,” she groaned with a hiccup.

    “Hm?” he said, standing.

    Her belly wobbled as she swayed. She patted it. “I’ve gotten really-hic!—really fat.” She twisted her upper body to look around at herself. As distended as her gut was, she’d filled out everywhere else as well. Her backside had widened impressively, flattening into two thick slabs of buttock. Her breasts had continued to round out, rolling out to the side as they hung down against the rise of her gut. And her thighs, always her body’s hallmark, had thickened and swelled into lavish pillows that pressed against each other nearly to her knees. Cellulite jiggled as she stepped back and forth, struggling against her inebriated equilibrium.

    Rory had seen the look in her eyes only once before—it was the same light that had shone in Heloise when he had dreamed of her feast.

    Raleigh looked up from herself. “So, what’s Adam gonna do? Is this gonna—hulp!—gonna work?”

    “He’s setting a…’ghost trap’ at your house,” Rory explained, taking her hand and turning her toward the couch. “The plan is to draw out the ghosts and bind them to his, uh, contraption. He seems pretty convinced that it’ll work.”

    Raleigh let him lead her around the coffee table, her steps erratic. “He’s…urrp…not gonna catch…Heloise, too, is he? Hiccup!”

    “Well, that’s the thing,” he continued, holding her upright with one hand and shaking the blankets out with the other. “Once he’s got a hold of them, you and I will go over there so we can get some straight answers and then decide what to, um, do with the ghosts.”

    “So we’ll be able to—hic!—to hold Sor…Soren down while Heloise beats the living shit out of him?”

    “The dead shit, I guess, but, yep.” Rory gently guided Raleigh down onto the couch.

    She lounged back into the cushions, letting her stomach surge up on her lap. “I like this plan.”

    “Glad to hear it. Here, you can go ahead and lie down.”

    “Oh, right.” She toppled over onto the pillow, lying down on her side. Her belly spilled out, its flab spreading nearly to the edge of the couch. “You guys are awesome. Serious—hulp!—seriously. I will…will never complain about the Midwest again. Fuckin’ awesome people. And you make some really good—hic!—beer.”

    “I’m glad you’re coming around on us,” Rory laughed, pulling the blankets up over her. “Turns out not all Californians are entirely horrible, either.”

    She scrunched her nose up teasingly, eyes sparkling. Then, before he could stand up, she lifted her head and kissed him on the cheek.

    “Thanks again,” she purred quietly. “Goodnight, Rory.”

    “Sleep tight,” he said, reluctantly standing.

    Raleigh nestled herself into the cocoon of blankets. Rory flicked off the lights and trudged slowly up the stairs. From behind him as he went he heard one last belch, then a gentle, relieved snore.
     
  16. Feb 15, 2015 #116

    The_Hero

    The_Hero

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    Wondering if Soren's power is being fed by Adam...he seems pretty intense.
     
  17. Feb 15, 2015 #117

    Marlow

    Marlow

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    Chapter 36


    A soft, sensual sigh reached Rory in the depths of his sleep. His eyes shot open.

    He was sitting up in bed, which was not how he’d fallen asleep. He was naked, as well, which wasn’t how he’d gotten under the covers. And the covers were gone, replaced by something softer and warmer and much, much heavier.

    It was the corpulent body of a massive woman, as soft and smooth as Raleigh had felt but at least two hundred pounds rounder. She was more topheavy than Raleigh, too, lacking the proportionate thighs but disproportionately bustier. And she was bright blonde, her golden ringlets falling on his chest where she’d laid her head.

    Her body all but covered him; her belly spreading across his legs like a bean bag. Her breasts filled and spilled out of his lap.

    She turned her head to smile up at him—she was Heloise, blue eyes full of passion and belly full of feasting and debauchery. As he gaped, she tilted up and kissed his cheek, then nuzzled into his neck and returned to her slumber.

    Rory exhaled slowly, trying not to panic. He glanced to his right. There was Raleigh, dressed in her frontier costume, head lolling back. She had evidently passed out in her chair, one hand resting atop her engorged belly and the other tucked under it.

    A pop from his left startled Rory and he whipped his head around to look.

    Next to the bed sat Sven, still in his apron. He had just uncorked a bottle of wine and gave Rory a welcoming nod as he poured himself a small glass.

    Rory flushed. As hurriedly as he could manage without being reckless, he extracted himself out from beneath Heloise’s girth and scampered off the bed, wrapping himself in the nearest convenient quilt.

    “Sven, I’m…I…”

    Sven held up a hand. “Do not fear, my dear friend, I beg you.”

    Rory wrestled with the quilt. “But she…I…we…what is…?”

    “As I said, Rory: Heloise and I are unashamed and quite accustomed to guests.” He sipped at his wine and patted her backside.

    “Hmm, whatsat?” Heloise groaned, turning over in bed.

    “Nothing, beloved,” he replied with a doting smile. “It is merely a dreaming friend of mine, come to share in our company.”

    “Oh, what fun,” she mumbled, kneading her belly. “Is there anything more to eat, darling?”

    Sven chuckled and gave her a jiggle. “Beloved, you ate the kitchen hollow tonight, haha. But I shall hunt something up for you. Come, Rory, let us walk.”

    The giant man heaved himself to his feet and started toward the door. Behind him, Heloise nabbed the open wine bottle he’d left on the bedside table.

    Rory followed Sven out into the tavern, casting a glance back at Raleigh, who slumbered on.

    “Heloise has truly outdone herself this evening,” Sven remarked, shutting the bedroom door. “She has an amazing gift. Haha. But next week, it is my turn, and I intend to do my best. And to share my best, yes.” He threw open the kitchen door. “Perhaps my brother Soren shall finally join us for dinner; it would bring me great joy.”

    Still huddled in the quilt, Rory followed him in. “Sven…how am I able to hold this quilt when usually I can’t touch things here?”

    “What quilt?”
    Rory frowned, mystified. “Nevermind, I guess. This is all just really confusing. And scary.”

    Sven nodded. “Fear is natural, my friend. I fear many things…I fear not being able to provide…Heloise fears starvation. My brother Soren, proud as he is, fears snakes—the very sight of them sets him a-tremble, haha. It is well to fear the things which are fearsome, but you must never let fear preclude you from doing what is right.”

    “Snakes are pretty creepy,” Rory agreed.

    “But tell me,” Sven continued, “have you discovered what it is that brings you to us?”

    “Uh, no. Maybe. I’m still very confused. I don’t suppose you can tell me?”

    “No, friend,” the giant confessed, turning around. The kitchen was expansive and nearly as large as the main room of the tavern—which didn’t make sense, since the basement of Raleigh’s house wasn’t nearly large enough for both rooms. It had to stretch out beyond the footprint of the house, under the hill into which it had been built. “I can merely see you and hear you. I am as blind to your purpose as I was to my own.”

    Rory scratched his beard. “How did you figure yours out, then?”

    Sven folded his arms over his barrel-chest. “I suppose…What I sought in my dreams only ever became clear when I remembered what it was I sought in my waking life. Only then were my purposes in harmony—and my desperate desire to end our hardship was answered.”

    Rory grimaced, listening to the rumbling snore drifting through the walls from the little bedroom.

    “So we must ask, dear Rory,” Sven continued, “what is it you need?”

    “I need…” He thought for a few moments, mouth opening and closing on a few ideas.

    Sven smiled and opened a nearby cupboard.

    “I need a clue,” Rory decided.

    The sound of snoring from the next room suddenly became shorter and more rhythmic. The pitch changed, then the tone, until it hit Rory that he was hearing a vibrating cellphone.

    “Shit,” he whispered. “I have to go.” He turned and dashed out of the kitchen. Instead of bursting into the main tavern room, though, he emerged into the upstairs hallway of his home.

    He collected himself. The quilt had disappeared, but he was back in his jeans and tee shirt. The phone hummed away from downstairs, rattling on the coffee table.

    “Don’t answer that!” he shouted, hurling himself down the stairs.

    “Whatsat?” Raleigh groaned. She was batting a hand out at the sound.

    Rory leapt across the room, but too late. Raleigh’s hand landed on Scarlett’s phone, swiped the screen, and answered the incoming call. The ringing ceased and Raleigh, satisfied, rolled back over.

    “Shit,” Rory whispered again.

    “Uh, hello?” said a small, feminine voice. “You there?”

    Rory knelt down next to the table, afraid to touch the phone. He peered at the screen. It said ‘Leslie’ in large, purple lettering. It also said 1:37 a.m.

    “Leslie?” he ventured. “Scarlett’s roommate, right? My name’s Rory; I’m Scarlett’s neighbor.”

    “Oh, okay. Well, hi. I’m really sorry if I woke you up.”

    “No, uh, I was up. So, Scarlett left her phone over here, turns out. Sorry.”

    “No problem, sorry. I just wanted to make sure she got home safe…hadn’t heard from her and I’ve been pretty worried.”

    Raleigh rolled back over, raising a tired eyebrow at Rory.

    “Yeah, they made it back in one piece. She seemed pretty tired, but that’s all.”

    “Oh, okay. That’s good.” Leslie sighed on the other end. “Look, I don’t know if you’re close to her or her family, but could you…I dunno, just pass on that I’m concerned about her?”

    Rory cleared his throat. He switched the phone to speaker so Raleigh could hear. “Sure, yeah. What, uh, what’s up, exactly?”

    “I’m not sure. But she hasn’t been herself all semester. Just doesn’t seem…healthy. She’s put on some weight…well, a lot of weight…”

    Raleigh sat up, biting her lip.

    “…and she’s been, uh, kinda bitchy. And then just spends all her time with this new boyfriend. I think he’s bad news.”

    “Boyfriend?” Rory echoed, scratching his beard. “I hadn’t heard. But you think he’s bad news? Why’s that?”

    “Again, I dunno,” she admitted. “To be fair, I haven’t met him…but nobody has. Nobody’s even heard of him, or seen them together or anything.”

    Rory stood, the phone shaking in his hands. “Nobody? Do you, ah, know his name, maybe?”

    “It’s ‘S’-something. ‘Soren,’ I think. She doesn’t like to talk about him. But I can’t help but think he’s bad news.”
     
  18. Feb 16, 2015 #118

    strataadvance

    strataadvance

    strataadvance

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    This story is Brilliant! I haven't been this wrapped up in a story
    Since the Harvest by Joel! And if you haven't read it Marlow
    You'd probably like it. :)
     
  19. Feb 17, 2015 #119

    thestormking666

    thestormking666

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    Nice. I had been thinking "Okay, where's Scarlett in all this?"

    Good use of showing a gun in act one and using it in act three. Narrative-wise, that is.
     
  20. Feb 17, 2015 #120

    Borghen

    Borghen

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    Right: a Chekov's Gun!
     

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