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The Third of May - by imogenbakerbell (~BBW, XXWG, Magic, Immobility)

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imogenbakerbell

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~BBW, XXWG, Fantasy, Magic, Immobility - Short story in which a woman mysteriously finds herself growing larger

[Author's note: Hi, this is my first WG story and my first time posting on Dimensions...hope I'm doing this right. Can't figure out how to indent satisfactorily so have just left spaces between paragraphs, hope that will suffice. Would love comments, constructive criticism, etc.]

The Third of May
by Imogen Baker-Bell

At four pm on the third of May, Julia Benton fell victim to a sudden onslaught of fat.

She was practising her keep fit in the living room while her boyfriend was out doing their weekly food shop. She wasn't a fitness-obsessed health-nut, but she had a trim enough figure and liked to keep it that way with a daily dose of exercise. Bending over to touch her toes, she was suddenly seized by a curious cramp. Not painful - just somewhat uncomfortable. Julia's hands flew to her stomach. She frowned as she felt something inside her tighten, then relax, then tighten again. Her stomach let out strange gurgling noises, and a bubble of air moved up her gullet to emerge as a stupendous belch. It rattled the window panes and almost threw her onto her backside; Julia hoped the neighbours hadn't heard. A few more, slightly quieter belches followed. Once all the excess air in her stomach seemed to have been exhausted, the cramps subsided. Julia would have got on with her keep fit again and tried to put the bizarre episode behind her there and then, but something still wasn't quite right. Her clothes - an oversized pair of tracksuit bottoms tied securely at the waist to keep them up, and a sports bra - felt a little...tight.

Julia ran her thumbs along the inside of her waistband - yes, things did seem a little snug, her waist pressing more firmly against her thumbs than it should have, and - and was she imagining things? Her waist seemed to be pressing tighter against her thumbs and waistband with every passing second. No, it couldn't be...Julia looked down at her stomach. Was it bigger than before, or was she just being paranoid? No, she realised with a distant, disbelieving sense of dread. It was bigger - and getting bigger still. She could feel her breasts straining against her bra too. Her hands moved up to her chest, feeling an unmistakeable swelling. Her nipples were hard, enlarged, threatening to poke through the strong fabric of the bra.

Panicked, Julia could only let out an inarticulate moan. She looked down at her stomach again. It was spilling over her waistband now. Her hands ran over her growing girth, moving round to her ballooning backside with morbid curiosity.

Fat. The word boomed through her head as she clutched at her inflating behind, feeling the full flesh almost seep through her fingers. Fat. She was growing inexplicably and inexorably fat. And the only course of action she could think to take to combat this unwanted growth was to continue with her keep fit. So she got her nerves together as best she could and tried to jog on the spot and jump up and down and all those other silly things they get you to do for keep fit. But she could only keep it up for five minutes before she gave up, exhausted and sweating profusely. She felt so hot, so heavy. It was obvious keep fit was having no effect on her tubby transformation, and the sofa looked very, very inviting...Julia lowered herself into it and leaned back, struggling to catch her breath. Her clothes were painfully tight now. Gazing up at the ceiling, she used her fingers to seek out the drawstring knot on her waistband that lay below a now two- or three-inch overhang of stomach. She pulled it loose, causing the overhang to shrink to a mere inch or so - alas, it was not to remain at that diminutive size for long. Soon, though Julia had pulled the drawstring all the way, her stomach was yet again spilling three inches over her waistband, and threatening four. Her thighs were surging steadily towards the arms of the sofa, straining against the stretchy material of the tracksuit bottoms. But Julia was distracted from the extreme tightness of her trousers by the even greater tightness around her chest.

It was quite a sturdy bra she was wearing, and as the fat gathered on her arms and around her ribcage and, most noticeably, in her breasts, things were getting quite painful. Her breasts seemed to be swelling a little faster than the rest of her now, so proportionally speaking she was much bustier than she had been before. They pressed against their cloth prison, trying to burst through, but having to resort to leaking through the top and bottom of the bra. Barely able to breathe, Julia moved one hand to the zip that did up the front of the bra (even this simple action took some effort, what with all the extra weight her arm was taking on) and pulled it down, her breasts pouring out in the wake of her hand. The zip reached the bottom and then - the two sides of the bra flew apart, as Julia's breasts - big as cantaloupes at this point - exploded out of their confinement to fall forward onto her stomach. The bra's shoulder straps still dug into her arms, so Julia concentrated on these next, but found she could not worm her sizeable upper arms out of them. Having a sudden panicked vision of losing her arms to lack of blood flow, Julia managed to heave herself off the sofa and waddled to the desk nearby - not an easy task, as she was first of all quite unused to all this fresh weight, and secondly her legs and buttocks were extremely restricted in their tight tracksuit bottoms. I'll have to deal with those next, Julia thought as she found a pair of scissors in the desk drawer and carefully squeezed one blade between one fleshy shoulder and its bra strap; after successfully cutting that shoulder free, she did the same to the other, and the bra fell to the floor, finally defeated, though the red marks across Julia's skin were evidence of the tough fight it had put up.

Now for the bottoms, thought Julia, but by now her voluminous middle flowed over her waistband to such an extent that she doubted she could squeeze scissors between the two. What to do, she pondered, but not for long as the seam running down her backside decided then it had had enough. Her knickers had split inside her trousers a while ago (she had only barely registered this at the time, being so preoccupied with liberating her breasts) and now peeked out from between her gigantic ass cheeks as they pushed the broken seam open wider and wider. Julia attempted to tug the defunct item of underwear loose, but it was something of a struggle, as her cheeks were simultaneously being compressed together by the fabric of the trousers just as they were pushing against it. But she eventually managed, the knickers joining the bra on the floor, while at the same time the seams running down the outside of her legs finally began to split. Still the waistband held...

Julia, exhausted from her exertions, puffed and panted her way back to the sofa. It now creaked very loudly when she sat down. It's not going to take much more of this, she thought, and she found herself chuckling, and then giggling almost hysterically. Perhaps it was the sudden violent movement brought on by Julia's laughter that did it, perhaps not, but in any case the stubborn waistband all at once gave up the ghost, causing the quantities of fat it had held prisoner to explode out in all directions.

Julia now set to ridding her legs of the tattered remains of her tracksuit bottoms, and once she'd kicked them from her feet, she sat back as best she could, considering just how big her rear was becoming (it was now pushing her forward, threatening to push her off the sofa), and wondered vaguely when it would all stop. Her panic had given way to a curious sense of calm - somewhere in her head an incredulous voice asked: am I...actually enjoying this? It was quite fascinating, she had to admit, watching, feeling her body bloom in this ridiculous manner. Quite...arousing. She started to slowly explore her newfound rolls and folds of flab (the ever-shrinking percentage of them she could reach, that is), letting out little sighs of pleasure. She explored, and she grew. Soon she was no longer able to reach around her breasts to caress her nipples. Her rear end continued to push her forward while at the same time pushing her up, and her thighs touched the arms of the sofa and began climbing over them. The fat accumulating on the inside of her thighs had forced them apart, which allowed the jiggling sack that was her stomach to drop between them, growing towards the floor while also growing forward towards the TV, which was now showing the keep fit DVD menu, endlessly looping bland music. Julia wanted to turn it off but she knew that there was no possibility of her moving from the sofa to do anything about it.

Time passed (how much time, she didn't know) and Julia's arms grew heavier and heavier until lifting them even a little brought fresh beads of sweat to her brow. So she contented herself with resting her hands on either thigh, feeling them continue to inflate beneath her fingers. By now they'd completely overcome the arms of the sofa. Soon afterwards Julia felt her stomach touch the floor, and not long after that, she heard a stupendous crack and suddenly found herself several inches closer to the floor (well, the bits of her that weren't already touching the floor). The sofa had finally broken.

It took several seconds for Julia to realise her growth had stopped. She held her breath, waiting - half-hoping, half-dreading - for it to start again, but it didn't. I must, she pondered once she felt certain her weight gain had truly ceased, be the fattest woman in the world. Her thoughts were turning to her boyfriend and what his reaction might be when she was interrupted by a deep rumbling that reverberated all through her belly, making it quiver, and the sharpest hunger pangs she had ever felt. God, I could eat a whole gingerbread house, she thought. Just as she was wishing for her boyfriend to be back soon, she heard the front door being unlocked, opened, the sound of footsteps towards the sitting room, and loveliest of all, the sound of bags of shopping rustling against each other.

I think, Julia mused with a smile, our weekly food shop might have to become a daily one...
 

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