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Nov 29, 2022
Strange Magic
by @chubboiz

(A/N: feedee/gainer reader insert POV. The reader's gender is never mentioned and their roommate is referred to with they/them exclusively. This is probably the WG story I'm proudest of to date.)

You find your roommate's secret stash of magic potions under their bed (some of which are more fattening than others). What's the harm in trying one?

You’re pretty sure your roommate is a witch.

The scent of fresh herbs and incense hits you like a train when you open their door, and the first thing you see as you make your way to their dresser is a pair of socks with a black cat pattern. Their crystal collection sits on the window sill along in what looks like some kind of altar. You don’t know what it’s supposed to do (and it’s not what you came in for anyway; they asked you to look for their tarot deck), so you decide not to mess with it.

There’s a box under their bed, but one look under its lid reveals a cluster of tightly packed bottles instead of cards. Out of curiosity, you place the box on their bed and peruse its contents, eyes lingering briefly on the doorway before you throw caution to the wind.

There are many concoctions to choose from, ranging from love potions to potions that attract the attention of certain animals (suddenly the day twenty cats showed up at the front door is starting to make sense), all unique and vibrant in color, but only a peachy pink substance in the box’s upper right corner catches your eye.

You gingerly pull the bottle out of the corner it’s nestled into and turn it over in your hand, marveling at how the glitter inside swirls in the light. The label reads “reveal your true self.”

You know you’re probably not supposed to drink it, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious--what would your “true self” be like?

If you happened to already be the “truest” version of yourself, would anything about you change?

Would it only alter your outward appearance, or your personality too?

And that’s assuming it even works! Maybe your roommate got lucky before, or all those cats following them home were just a coincidence.

Pursing your lips, you decide “what’s the harm?” If it doesn’t work, you’ll feel queasy for a couple hours at worst, and if it does, you’ll have a lot of questions answered.

You quickly tuck the box back underneath your roommate’s bed. In one fluid movement, you pop off the cap and swallow every last drop. It’s cool, fizzy, and surprisingly tangy; a clear note of tart, ripe peach underneath all that sweetness. For the next minute and a half, you hold your breath, a heady dose of anticipation churning in your stomach along with the liquid.


A quiet, crestfallen huff escapes your lips as you turn, resolving to dispose of the evidence, only to be cut off by a noise of confusion when you’re unable to move. Somehow, you’re rooted to the spot. But suddenly it hits you--everything feels heavy. When you try to move, it’s like you’re swimming through a pool filled with molasses.

And then the tingling starts.

Barely noticeable at first, a tickle that spans the curves of your hips and waist. It’s enough to make you giggle, but your jaw and throat feel stiff, making the sensation foreign and mildly uncomfortable.

You chance a look down at yourself and what you see makes your eyes grow as wide as saucers: every single part of your body is slowly swelling up, like a balloon being fed a steady stream of breath. After a couple of seconds, that bizarre stiffness in your limbs gives way to itching, and bright red stretch marks marble the softening, creamy skin of your inner thighs.

Trying not to panic, you reach out a hand to lean on the bed and steady yourself, only to find that your forearm is twice the size it was five minutes ago. For some reason, your hands swell at a much faster rate than your thickening arms, legs, and waistline, the indents of each knuckle smoothing over until the only indication of bone underneath is a subtle constellation of dimples.

Your fingers grow chubby enough that rings of fat begin to gather around each joint in a matter of seconds, making the bottle cumbersome to hold. Unable to keep a steady grip, you drop it, wincing at the too-loud sound of glass shattering on the thin fluffy white carpet.

Your feet are next--they widen and thicken to an uncomfortable degree, causing you to lose your balance and topple to the floor. Which is just as well, considering your knees have grown to the size of softballs and simply bending them is now an arduous task. Following close behind is your ass. You can’t see it, but you can feel the way it’s growing heavier and heavier. It fattens in tandem with your thighs and upper arms, so it’s not hard to imagine the way it dimples and billows with god knows how many extra pounds.

It’s not long before your clothes surrender to the newfound mass of your body, splitting the seams on your sleeves. You hear a sudden rrrrrriiiiiiiiiip! from behind and blanch at the sensation of your bare ass against the wood and carpet flooring.

Helplessly, you watch as the girth of your hips widens far beyond your plumpening shoulders, your waistline all but disappearing under a mountain of plush softness.

You try to cry out for help, knowing your roommate would come running, but right at that moment, your cheeks bulge with enough fat to round out your jawline, and a budding double chin blossoms forth, weighing down your teeth and tongue. All you can manage is a little whimper as you reach up and paw at the new layer of flab that adorns your face and neck like tresses of silk.

You can still breathe and open your mouth, so there’s a good chance that you might be able to call for help and even haul yourself to your feet once you’ve grown more... accustomed to your new size.

And then your belly swells forth in all its glory, completely dwarfing the rolls that hug your arms and legs.

It starts by bulging directly outwards from the area encompassed by your ribs and midsection, until there’s roughly a foot of corpulent circumference between you and where your belly ends. Experimentally, you reach your arms as far as they can go around yourself--they barely touch at your belly button.

However, that quickly changes as the rest of your belly fat fills in, making your sides as fleshy and wide as your hips. Now, your hands barely reach a quarter of the way around your stomach. Your belly grows heavy in your lap, pulled down by its own weight until it pins you to the spot. It cascades over your thighs in a waterfall of soft, succulent flesh, and you can’t help but marvel at how fat you’ve become. In a way, it’s almost like a blessing how much protection from the cold this new layer of blubber provides now that the tattered remains of your shirt have ridden up on your chest and left the rest of your abdomen bare.

Completely in awe of the sheer decadence piled onto your frame, you stare transfixed at the belly you can no longer see under. You knead it with your hands and revel in the way your softness yields beneath your fat fingers.

A small part of you is immensely satisfied with your transformation, like you never knew you wanted this more than anything else until it happened. It really does feel like you’re finally in touch with your truest self, more than you’ve ever been in your life.

The sound of several overpriced textbooks crashing to the floor jolts you back to reality. Your gaze snaps up to the entrance of the room where your roommate is standing, wide eyed and gaping as they take in the sight before them.

“Holy shit,” they whisper, rushing to your side in an instant.

They press a palm to your forehead and tentatively rest a hand on your belly, exploring the tender, creamy flesh there in a bemused daze.

You raise a hand to the best of your ability and point to the broken pieces of the bottle on the carpet.

“That... one. D-Drank... it.” You croak softly, unable to meet their eyes.

They’re quiet for a moment as they pick up the bottle, read its label, and process what happened. Then, seemingly unfazed by the turn of events, they cup your double chin with one hand and tilt it up until you’re forced to meet their gaze. Their eyes are full of compassion, pity, and something a little spicier that you can’t quite put a name to.

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

You shake your head. There’s a pause as they carefully choose their next words.

“You... you like this, don’t you?”

You nod bashfully, face growing warm and red.

“Do you want me to help you up? After all, you must be exhausted from putting on so much weight all at once, you poor thing.”

A mischievous grin spreads across their face. “Besides, I think you’ll be much more comfortable eating dinner in bed. So, what do you say?”

You return their grin with a bashful smile of your own.


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