Times are Changing [Rewrite] (~BBW, XWG, Magic)

Discussion in 'Fantasy/Science Fiction Archive' started by coolag12345, Jan 2, 2010.

  1. Jan 2, 2010 #1

    coolag12345

    coolag12345

    coolag12345

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    ~BBW, ~XWG, Magic - When an overweight girl is the butt of a cruel joke, a Goth decides to take revenge with her own hands.



    [Author's Note:]Hey everybody; long time no see. :rolleyes:

    I just wanted to let everyone know that my story Times are Changing (hopefully a couple of you still remember) is back from the dead. I'm currently rewriting it from the ground up, and am now feeling a lot better about the story as a whole. With these improvements, continuing should be much easier. So here it is, the reworked Times are Changing:

    All of the main characters in this story are seniors in high school, and were always written as 18 years old. I've worked this into the story as best I can, but thought I would mention it right off the bat.





    Times are Changing
    by Coolag12345




    Part 1

    “Okay people, settle down. We’re ready to begin when you are.”

    The lights in the auditorium dimmed, and the sound of muddled conversation faded into silence as a hush fell over the student body seated below the stage.

    “Thank you. I know you’re all anxious to hear the results, so we’ll get right to it.”

    As Vice Principal Brown opened the sealed envelope in her hand, the room was silent; it seemed as if some were afraid to even breathe. Out of the envelope came 4 golden slips of paper. It was time.

    “The nominees for the 2008 Shiloh High Homecoming Queen are…”

    Every eligible girl, whether she knew it or not, was holding her breath. After a sufficient dramatic pause, Mrs. Brown leaned into the microphone and began.

    “Carla Stephens.”

    Carla, a pretty but average-looking girl near the front, stood up and walked onstage wearing a smile so wide it threatened to separate the two halves of her head. Her friends cheered, but the rest of the audience extended only a smattering of polite applause to the unremarkable choice of a nominee. They quieted quickly and Ms. Brown was able to continue.

    “Jennifer Gardner.”

    A bookish girl sitting by herself looked around in surprise, and then awkwardly edged toward the stage. She also received an acceptable, though smaller, amount of applause. From one corner of the room muffled laughing could also be heard. Jennifer joined Carla on-stage, her fists nervously clenched at her sides.

    “Rachel Peddin.”

    A girl sitting in the before-mentioned corner jumped out of her seat, shrieking and fanning her face with her hands in a lame fa├žade of surprise. The whole corner started to cheer as she practically skipped up the middle aisle, though the girl portion of the cheering sounded curiously halfhearted to the observant listener. Rachel posed a bit on-stage, obviously loving the attention; her cheering section happily obliged. Mrs. Brown was eventually forced to gently shush them. Again there was silence.

    Tension was high; only one more spot was open. The more popular girls began looking around, sizing up their competition. The current favorite was Jill Fox, a girl with just the right mix of high grades and athleticism to make the cut. Jill was staring straight at the vice principal, her hands clenching the sides of her chair as if she was ready to spring up at any moment.

    “And the final nominee is…”

    Mrs. Brown’s eyes, magnified by thick glasses lens, widened noticeably. She cleared her throat, suddenly uncomfortable; she had no choice, however, but to continue.

    “The final nominee is… Amy Peele.”

    Gasps echoed around the auditorium. The back-left corner struggled to contain itself, everyone in the area lowering their heads and beginning to shake with unheard laughter. Jill was frozen in her seat, mouth agape. All eyes turned to the front right corner; sitting there was a girl attempting to remove herself from the groaning chair barely supporting her.

    After a few unsuccessful attempts, Amy Peele managed to stagger upright and began trudging up to the stage, each step squeaking loudly on the old wooden stairs. The back-left corner’s laughter showed no signs of slowing, and was starting to spread throughout the room. Amy finally joined her fellow nominees in line, cheeks red both from the simple exertion of walking up stairs and off-the-chart embarrassment.

    Meanwhile Mrs. Brown was angrily whispering to Sarah, head of the Homecoming Committee. She had placed her hand over the microphone, and only a few words could be made out: “… all votes counted …you sure?” Sarah nodded her head, shrugging apologetically as she walked off-stage. Most of the audience by now was laughing quietly, though most of them were a bit ashamed by their laughter. They knew it was cruel, but…

    “Students!” Mrs. Brown shouted sternly into the microphone. Everyone immediately settled, though the back-left corner was still silently trembling. “Let’s give our 2008 Homecoming Queen nominees a hand.”

    Half-hearted applause ran around the room, all eyes locked on Amy. Standing there, she was truly massive. Her apple-shaped midsection was dominated by a hefty belly, jiggling with every breath. Her upper arms stretched the sleeves of her shirt, with only sizable dimples where her elbows should be. Her breasts, proportional to her stomach, sagged like large sandbags. Her thighs touched no matter how she stood, and were shaking slightly from her prolonged standing.

    Mrs. Brown, seeing that Amy was close to tears, hurriedly dismissed everyone to afternoon classes. Amy quickly waddled backstage, tears leaking onto her round cheeks and lips trembling along with her chins; everyone else slowly filed out the door back into the school’s main hall.

    Or rather, almost everyone.

    One person, a round, gothic-looking girl dressed entirely in black, remained in her seat, face red with barely–suppressed rage. Her name was Cathy Pfeiffer. She, along with everyone else, knew exactly why Amy Peele had been forced to play a part in that spectacle. She knew that certain members of the student body, using their social influence, had rigged the vote. They had put Amy, a perfectly nice girl, through what could be the most embarrassing moment of her life for no other reason than a quick laugh.

    Cathy couldn’t fathom such cruelty. Didn’t they know what this would do to Amy? How could she live this down? How would she ever be able to show her face in this school again without attracting laughter? Amy was already a pariah because of her weight; why did they feel the urge to make things even worse for her?

    Cathy turned to watch the persons responsible leaving. The jocks and preps walked in one herd, all still laughing about their job well done. Rachel ran to meet them, quickly joining in the mean celebration with wholehearted enthusiasm.

    She waited until the auditorium was clear to rise from her chair. Cathy snuck quietly onstage and slowly pulled a bit of the curtain back. What she saw backstage nearly drove her to tears: Amy Peele lay crumpled on the floor, sobbing incoherently, her enormous body shaking from head to toe. Cathy couldn’t bear to watch.

    As she walked to her locker, Cathy’s deep pity and sadness turned to blind rage. All she could think of were those people she watched leaving. And what they had done. And how there was virtually no chance that the school would do anything about it. Cathy couldn’t let this stand. Justice needed to be served. “Someone needs to pay for this.”

    -*-​

    Cathy exited the lunch line, tray in hand. Spotting several popular kids- particularly Rachel Peddin- in the center of the lunchroom, Cathy rushed over and grabbed an empty table adjacent to them. She hoped to determine the person behind the rigged vote; he or she was the one who deserved Cathy’s attention. She began to eat, all the while listening to the other table’s conversation. The talk was hard to decipher, mixing with the rest of the room. For a few minutes, all she could make out were bits and pieces of standard high school gossip. As soon as Amy’s name came up, however, Cathy gave every ounce of focus she could to hear what came next.

    “I don’t know Rachel, wasn’t it a little mean?” Brenda Marsh was saying. “I think I saw her crying.”

    “Look, I did this for my crown, not to spare the feelings of some nobody. I had never even seen her before, which says a lot; she’s kind of hard to miss.” The whole table began to laugh. “I don’t understand how someone can let themselves go that far. In my opinion, I’m doing her a favor; maybe that little show will be motivation for her to get off her butt every once in a while. And if she can help me get what I want at the same time, even better. Everybody wins.”

    Cathy froze for a moment, dumbstruck by what she was hearing.

    “All people like her make me sick,” Rachel continued, “I just want to grab them and scream, ‘haven’t you ever heard of self control?!’” Cathy’s back was turned to the group, but she could feel a pair of eyes suddenly on her. Rachel spoke in a much lower voice now: “Just look at that one.”

    More eyes in her direction.

    “Geez, look at her, stuffing her face. You think she’d come up for air every once in a while.”

    Cathy, confused, returned her attention to her tray and found it almost empty; she had been concentrating so hard on eavesdropping that she hadn’t noticed herself absentmindedly eating faster and faster. Indeed, her mouth was at the moment very full with a bit of everything that had once sat on that tray. She swallowed with a little difficulty and at once rose to leave, embarrassed. As she passed the popular table, Rachel no longer bothered to whisper: “Look at that butt!” This got the group laughing again, louder than before. It took all of Cathy’s willpower not to reach a hand behind and cover herself as she continued to walk; she could feel her ass swinging behind her.

    Dropping the plastic tray in the trash, a frown appeared on Cathy’s face; walking out the lunchroom door the frown began to deepen, almost becoming a sneer; and while opening her locker, that sneer turned into a scowl. It was all clear now: Rachel Peddin had singlehandedly orchestrated Amy’s social demise for her own benefit. On top of that, she had personally insulted Cathy.

    She would pay.

    Cathy slammed the locker shut as hard as she could, listening to the sound echo throughout the hall.

    Rachel Peddin would pay.

    -*-​

    The door was cold on Cathy’s ear as she pressed against it, listening. It was dark in her room, as she had turned the lights off; she was supposed to have gone to bed an hour ago. Her father had already turned in, so she just had one more person to wait for.

    While waiting, Cathy delved into her memory, searching for two very important numbers. She thought back to the beginning of the semester, to the embarrassing physical everyone in her PE class had been forced to take. Organized alphabetically, Rachel, Amy, and Cathy were placed together in line. Not realizing the moment’s importance at the time, Cathy’s recollection was a bit fuzzy. She remembered Rachel stepping on the scale, and the slight pang of envy she had felt when the nurse told Rachel the number… but what was it? She tried to remember the nurse’s voice, but all she could muster was the sight of her mouthing the words. There must be something else, something she was missing…

    Hoping to jog her memory, Cathy moved on. Amy’s weight was easier to remember, as she had been directly in front of Cathy in line. As Amy stepped onto the scale, which had creaked and sagged lightly under her weight, Cathy remembered seeing the nurse slightly raise her eyebrows in surprise before reporting to her in a voice that wasn’t quite soft enough, “306.” Amy’s shoulders slumped at the result and she quickly shuffled to the next station, the nurse looking on with pity in her eyes. Cathy remembered feeling deep empathy for Amy even then, a desire to tell her that she understood how she felt. That she was not alone.

    A sudden noise yanked Cathy out of her memories; false alarm, just a flushing toilet.

    She re-focused, thinking about her turn on the scale that day. The previous year she had left the physical weighing about 165, making her just barely overweight for her height of 5’8”. This was a weight she had maintained since middle school, when her height had finally settled. Up to that last physical Cathy had managed to preserve a balance between her life and school, keeping her body in check; this all changed, however, at the beginning of 11th grade. The notoriously-difficult junior year caught her off guard, and she quickly found herself overwhelmed by the ever-growing pile of homework, tests, and papers. It immediately took its toll on her, constant stress leading to a gradual decay of her self control. What little exercise Cathy had managed before was gradually forced out of her schedule. Her diet quickly dissolved into comfort food, anything she thought she needed to make it through a tough day; the more she ate, the more she needed. Cathy eventually managed to regain control of her schoolwork, but the damage to her lifestyle was done.

    This loss of inhibition was only made worse when her heavy workload was removed and replaced by the intoxicating freedom of summer vacation. Like many people, Cathy promised herself she would use her newfound free time to get in shape; she never managed to work up the enthusiasm, however, and spent most of the three month break keeping to herself, lounging around her house and filling the empty time with food. By the time school drew near, even her sweatpants were beginning to feel tight; she was forced to buy an entirely new wardrobe.

    Cathy knew she had gained some weight over the past year, but when her name was called at the physical that day and she stepped onto the scale, she was hit with the full force of what she had done to herself; the nurse looked her in the eye and reported, “203.” Cathy’s jaw had dropped open, and she walked off in a daze; she had gained almost 40 pounds in one year. She began to tear up at the mere memory of it, and the shame and disgust towards herself that came with it. To make matters worse, she was forced to place a marker bearing her name and weight on a large BMI chart at the next station as a way to set fitness goals for that year; to her horror, her marker belonged in the part of the chart labeled Obese. She recalled again thinking jealously of Rachel and her figure, finding her marker clear on the other side of the chart on the low side of Normal.

    Suddenly, Cathy jolted to attention in her room. That was it, she had found it! She could see it clearly, the slip of paper bearing the words “Rachel Peddin, 18, 5’6”, 121 lbs.” She could finally begin! As if on cue, at that moment she heard the sound of feet on the stairs. Cathy listened as her mother climbed the small flight and walked down the hall. She heard the door to her parents’ bedroom gently creak open, and then heard it gently creak shut. After a couple of minutes, water could be heard rushing through the pipes; she was in the shower. Immediately, Cathy sprang into action.

    She turned on the lights and quickly double-checked the supplies lying on her bed; she had everything she needed. Cathy didn’t waste a second. She grabbed two throw pillows and quickly ripped them open, shaking out every bit of stuffing. Next she cut two basic female shapes out of the remaining cloth, one thin, one heavy-set. Cathy took a needle and some thread from her closet and began sewing the dolls into existence, carefully creating accurate body shapes for both dolls. When they had been almost completely sewn shut with only a small slit on one side keeping them open, Cathy uncapped a marker and wrote “Amy” on the big one and “Rachel” on the small one.

    She next reached into her bosom, removing a small brass key which was quickly inserted into the lock on the heavy wooden chest beneath her bed. Once opened, Cathy removed its single content: a small but disproportionally heavy velvet parcel. The cloth was quickly unraveled, revealing a small glass jar filled with dark black beads. With its protective wrap removed she could feel the container’s peculiar warmth, accompanied by a pulsing that was in a way almost intoxicating. Cathy didn’t have time to enjoy it, however; there was work to be done. The jar’s lid was lifted off with a slight pop and she poured a few beads into her hand. Even in the warm light of the room, the beads twinkled wickedly in her palm.

    Slowly, methodically, beads were removed and counted. Cathy was careful, only sewing up the dolls’ small openings when the Rachel doll contained exactly 121 beads and the Amy doll was filled with precisely 306.

    At about 11:30 PM, the hard part began. Cathy took her marker and drew a circle around the two dolls on the floor, rhythmically chanting as she did so. As Cathy got steadily louder, she opened the small leather pouch on her bed and sprinkled a sand-like substance all around the inside the circle, not stopping until every inch of the interior was covered with a thick layer of it. She began to contort her body, no longer whispering her chant but speaking at a normal volume. The sand began to steam, its color darkening from a white, to a yellow, to a dark orange, and finally a red.

    Though still solid, the sand began to bubble as if boiling; the dolls were glowing, red-hot. Cathy didn’t stop, now taking a small vial from a chain around her neck. She opened it, now forcefully shouting her incantation. Cathy carefully tipped the vial, dropping a single drop of its contents into the now furiously bubbling sand. The second it hit, the entire circle burst into blue flame. Cathy, now completely exhausted, extinguished the fire with a thrust of her hand and ended her chant with a loud grunt. All traces of sand were now gone, leaving only the two dolls in the center of the circle.

    -*-​

    At that moment, both subjects of the ritual woke with a fright. They were both drenched in sweat. Amy, after much effort, rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Rachel slid out of bed and went to the bathroom for a drink of water.

    -*-​

    Cathy bent down and examined her finished products. The dolls, though still made of cloth, were now exact likenesses of the two girls down to skin tone and eye color. They were already cool to the touch. “Only one thing left to do.” She pulled out a small blade, and with great car slit a couple of seams on one side of both dolls.

    -*-​

    Rachel, who at that moment was holding a glass of water, felt it first. The pain was wrenching, knocking the breath out of her lungs. It was worse than any pain she had ever experienced. The glass dropped to the floor and shattered as she placed both hands on her side in agony, falling to the floor just inches from the broken glass.

    Amy felt it moments after Rachel; it was like a branding iron had been placed on her side. The pain was too great for her to get out of bed. She lay there, only able to squirm in anguish. She opened her mouth to call for her parents, but no sound escaped her mouth. She was alone.

    -*-​

    Cathy reached into Amy’s doll, removed five beads, and placed them inside Rachel’s. She then quickly closed the hole with masking tape.

    -*-​

    Just as suddenly as the pain had come, it was gone. The girls regained their composure, once again managing shallow, shaky breaths. A deep exhaustion struck, and all thoughts were replaced by those of sleep. As Rachel climbed into her bed, her pajama bottoms felt a bit tight. She loosened the drawstrings and was instantly asleep.

    -*-​

    Cathy listened as the shower in her parents’ bathroom shut off; perfect timing. Suddenly very tired, Cathy quickly stowed away her materials and fell into bed. As her head hit her pillow, she had time to murmur one thing before blacking out: “Things are going to change around here.”
     
  2. Jan 2, 2010 #2

    coolag12345

    coolag12345

    coolag12345

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    Part 2


    Beep beep, beep beep, beep beep, beep beep, beep-


    Cathy’s hand rested on the Snooze button, too drained to move. She tentatively opened one eye and the numbers 6:00 stared back at her, red against the black backdrop of early morning. Cathy began to sit up, only to be met with a surprising ache that seemed to have infected her entire body.

    “Man, I really overdid it last night.”

    Her mind suddenly snapped to attention, memory of the previous night’s events flooding back to her. She scrambled off the bed, getting on her hands and knees to more closely observe her creations. The dolls still sat in the circle, their artificial faces smiling emptily at the ceiling. Cathy noticed that the dolls had grown fake hair on their heads which no doubt reflected the condition of their real-life counterpart. Rachel’s doll’s blonde faux-hair curled, bouncing lightly without a knot or split end; Amy’s was oily and matted to the doll’s back, a blackish-brown. Cathy began noticing tiny details such as scars and birthmarks, even seeing light stretch marks between Amy’s thighs. She wished she could sit and stare at the dolls forever, but unfortunately she had school to prepare for.

    As her mind cleared in the shower that morning, Cathy realized that she didn’t really have a plan. All of the tools she needed were at her disposal, but how would she use them? She certainly couldn’t keep stuffing Rachel’s doll with 5 beads a night; she would be overweight before the end of next week. No, the only way Cathy could truly get revenge was with a method that would get the job done without calling attention to itself. But how? How many beads per day were acceptable? Per week?

    Cathy shut off the water, stepping out of the shower less excited than frustrated. She wiped the steam off the bathroom mirror, sadly watching her fleshy arm shake as she did so. Cathy backed up and turned to inspect her profile. Her midsection was just as bloated as usual, pudgy and soft to the touch. It was no match, however, for her butt; undoubtedly the area most affected by her newly-sedentary lifestyle, it seemed positively huge to her. Its presence could be felt with every step she took. She unconsciously reached her hands behind her and grabbed the offending area, feeling it jiggle and mold to her fingers as they sank in.

    As she did all this, Cathy’s eyes began to wander to the scale on her right. It had been a few days since she checked, and she had certainly not eaten any better in that time. Did she dare step on? Curiosity getting the better of her, she cautiously eased onto the cold metal surface. 205. She had gained almost a whole pound in three days. Cathy jumped off, disgusted with herself. She almost felt like throwing the damn scale out a window. Rachel’s words at the lunch table yesterday sprang to mind: “Haven’t you ever heard of self-control?!” She was ashamed.

    It was at that moment, standing naked in the bathroom, that everything became clear. This is how she wanted Rachel to feel: ashamed. Cathy wanted Rachel to feel ashamed. Not just ashamed of her body, but of the actions (or lack thereof) that had caused it. She wanted Rachel to understand the struggle that millions of women faced around the world every single day and be forced to face it in the mirror or on the scale. To know that there was no one to blame for it but herself. Cathy didn’t need a plan, she didn’t have to be in charge of anything; she would leave it all up to Rachel.

    -*-​

    “Just one more pass over here, and… done.”

    Rachel unplugged the hair straightener, placing the hot metal plates on the bathroom counter. After a little primping, her hair was just the way she liked it. Next came mascara, then blush, then lipstick, all applied as liberally as possible without appearing promiscuous (though her standards in this area were perhaps a bit lax). Her makeup finished, she turned to inspect her face in the vanity mirror; flawless, as usual. Still, she spent a few more minutes preening and fine-tuning until she was absolutely satisfied. A quick turn to the clock revealed it to be 7:00; “Right on schedule.”

    Rachel’s schedule was like a well-oiled machine. Every morning she was up at 6:00, springing out of bed on the first alarm and going out for a quick jog. Her quick pace brought her back to her house in around 10 minutes, and she immediately stepped into the shower. The shower always took at least 15 minutes; her parents complained about the lack of hot water she left behind, but her shower was clearly more important than theirs. They were just going to work, after all. “You don’t need to look good to sit behind a desk,” she would say, and they always conceded.

    After the shower came the difficult task of choosing an outfit. Rachel was careful to never wear any item of her clothing more than once within the same month, and so had to mentally keep everything in her two closets straight to coordinate a fashionable ensemble that didn’t violate what was in her eyes a major fashion faux-pas. This process applied to everything from shoes to jewelry, and took about 20 minutes. With everything else arranged, Rachel always fixed her hair and makeup last; this was easily accomplished within 15 minutes. The whole routine took about an hour, and had been performed consistently by Rachel for years. She sighed at the memory of countless mornings spent going through the same familiar motions. “It’s not easy being beautiful.”

    She took a final turn in her full-length bedroom mirror, her lithe body positively radiating beauty. “On the other hand,” she thought, smiling wickedly, “maybe not.”

    -*-​

    Cathy had to search for a while to find what she was looking for, but soon returned to her room triumphant, two small balloons and a small glass tube in her hand. She filled the first balloon with a bit of water and very slightly inflated the second before tying them off, leaving most of the balloons’ rubbery latex on the other side of the knot; the excess was quickly snipped off with a pair of scissors. They were now the same size and shape; the only difference was that one was filled with water and the other held nothing but air. She held the empty balloon up to the abdomen of Rachel’s doll, and the one containing water to Amy’s; they were the right size.

    Carefully reopening the small hole in the dolls’ sides and applying tape to the balloons, Cathy inserted the empty one into the 121- “Make that 126,” she thought gleefully- beads and pressed the tape against the cloth opposite to the doll’s now less-prominent six pack abs. She did the same for Amy’s doll, pressing the balloon opposite her massive belly button. Finally, separate ends of the tube were inserted into the now-frayed holes.

    Cathy started chanting again, sprinkling a bit more of the “sand” onto each doll’s midsection as she did so. The balloons immediately began glowing, visible through the thin cloth. The glow progressed from a dark red to a blinding white before going out completely. Cathy pressed against both dolls' stomachs and felt nothing but beads. Likewise, the frayed edges of the dolls’ openings were now gone; the glass and metal had melded into one. She wiped the sweat from her brow, knowing she had been successful; it was done.

    -*-​

    Rachel once again checked her makeup in the rearview mirror before backing out of the driveway on her way to school. She also once again tried to ease the pressure her khaki Capri’s were exerting on her legs. Rachel had noticed that morning while getting dressed that her chosen outfit, which she had worn only a few weeks (and five unknown pounds) ago, was definitely tighter than it had been before. “Mom must have put them in the dryer,” she reasoned as she put the car in reverse. Could she count on that woman for anything?

    Her scorn quickly vanished, however, at the arrival of a sudden stab of pain to her side. Instinctively both of Rachel’s hands flew to the affected area, her foot slamming on the brake to keep from rolling into traffic. The pain was exactly as it had been the previous night: white-hot. Almost as bad was a dreadful churning in her midsection, like her organs had been placed in a blender. Her vision blurred as she slumped against the wheel, unable to think of anything else in her anguish.

    And then again, just as suddenly as before, the pain disappeared. Rachel’s vision cleared, her mind instantly alert. She lifted her shirt, examining the side of her waist; there was no mark of anything wrong, no bruise or cut or discoloration. Rachel pressed around with her finger; nothing. “What the hell was that?”

    -*-​

    “Oops, almost forgot.” Cathy took another pinch of dust and pressed a little of it into both dolls’ foreheads. She snapped her fingers, and it instantly dissolved into the cloth. That would take care of those pesky memories of pain.

    -*-​

    Rachel’s confusion and fear vanished; her mind was infected with a warm fuzziness for a moment before once again clearing. She stared at the bare flesh of her hip, unsure of what she had been looking for. “Oh well,” she thought as she released her shirt and let it drop, “must not have been important.” The brake was released and Rachel turned her head to navigate properly into the street, smiling cheerfully as she did so.

    Navigating out of the neighborhood, Rachel’s thoughts began turning, oddly, to food. Her stomach, which had been perfectly content all morning, was unexpectedly giving her trouble. In fact, it felt beyond empty, almost aching in hunger. She breathed deeply, maintaining her resolve. “I’ve already had breakfast, and I will not eat again before lunch.” Still, as her Mustang purred out of the residential area and onto the highway, the brightly-lit signs for restaurants that lined the road caught her eye much more than usual.

    Rachel was one of the few who could honestly say they had never eaten fast food. Just the sight of the food in TV commercials, always practically dripping with grease, had made her nauseous since she was a kid. This morning was different, however; now, instead of seeming sickening, thoughts of hot steaming burgers and fries and onion rings were almost tantalizing. Despite herself, she actually bit her lip in yearning. She tried to ignore it, focusing on the road, but she constantly found herself staring at another sign. Denny’s; pancakes, eggs, bacon. Wendy’s; chicken sandwich, Double Stack, Frosty. These thoughts were punctuated by the near-constant grumbling of her stomach; with each sound, her willpower crumbled. The sight of the next logo ultimately proved too much, and without warning Rachel swerved across the road and turned into the parking lot, the Golden Arches beckoning like an archangel.

    -*-​

    Amy stared down at her tray, unable to place her current feeling. She took up a spoonful of the school-provided biscuits and gravy out of habit and placed it in her mouth. Nothing. It tasted good and everything, but it didn’t satisfy in the usual way. In fact, none of the food in front of her was particularly appealing. She continued to stare, pushing the contents of her tray around with her fork and trying to work up the motivation to continue; the food was paid for, after all. Another spoonful was brought to her mouth out of habit, but the taste actually made Amy a bit nauseous. She grudgingly swallowed, shivering at the feeling of it sliding down her throat.

    -*-​

    Rachel pulled up to the drive-through menu and had a look. The warmly lit pictures of the food actually looked tolerable; enticing, even.

    “May I take your order?”

    The tinny voice startled her. “Y-Yes, yes, hello?!”

    “What’llyahave?”

    “Uh, yes, I’ll have…” Rachel scanned the menu, not really sure what anything was. Regardless, it all looked delicious. It was practically impossible to choose between the sausage, eggs, hotcakes, hash browns, and biscuits in the pictures; she decided to compromise and get them all.

    “I suppose I’ll take the Deluxe Breakfast.”

    “Okay, and what to drink with that?”


    “Water,” she thought. “Coke please.”

    “$6.53, pull around.”


    Stomach grumbling again, Rachel rushed to the window. The sliding window opened, and the cashier took her money without even a smile. She wrinkled her nose at the sight of him as he fumbled with her change; he was clearly in the habit of eating this crap every day. His potbelly threatened to bust out of the uniform’s shirt, leaving him so cramped in the tiny booth that he had been forced to suck in a bit to get the register open. She took the coins handed to her carefully, afraid to even touch his hand.

    The second window wasn’t much better; the skinny piece of white trash who gave her the food spent the entire time coming onto her, his eyes constantly wandering to her breasts. She rolled her eyes and quickly pulled away; as if.

    The bag was placed in the passenger seat; Rachel decided to eat it when she arrived in the senior parking lot. Now back on the highway, the smell of the bag began wearing on Rachel’s already weakened self-control. She was finding it hard to concentrate, drifting into another lane as she closed her eyes and took the smell in deeply. Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore. Keeping her eyes on the road, Rachel took the Styrofoam clamshell out of the bag and placed it in her lap.

    -*-​

    “Am I getting sick?” Amy wondered, rubbing her pudgy belly in an effort to soothe it. No luck; she couldn’t eat another bite if she tried. Not inclined to just sit in the cafeteria, Amy grabbed onto the table and heaved herself out of her chair. She quickly threw the still-full tray in the trash can and shuffled out of the cafeteria. Standing in the elevator (it was embarrassing to climb the stairways between floors), a smile formed on her face. Amy jokingly patted her belly: “Good job; I’m proud of you.”

    -*-​

    The clamshell opened with a pop, and the now intensified aroma actually brought a moan of pleasure to Rachel’s lips. She tried to control herself; she still had to drive. Keeping one hand on the wheel, she cautiously began nibbling. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced: crispy, steamy, and delicious. Abandoning manner she began eating faster, finding new exciting combinations of tastes. She particularly enjoyed the egg, sausage, and hotcake combo. The small container of syrup that came with the meal was dumped on the remains. She soaked it up with bits of biscuit, spooning it in as fast as it would go down.

    This lack of moderation was exhilarating; it felt wonderful to just drop her strict diet and let loose, even if for only a moment. Rachel pulled in to the parking lot satisfied as she had never been satisfied before. As she found a parking spot near the back (she was running a bit late), Rachel realized with a bit of embarrassment that the windows had actually been left a bit foggy by the experience.

    The evidence of Rachel’s indulgence was stuffed beneath her seat. She did a quick makeup check in the mirror only to see that she had left her face a mess; grease covered her chin and the area around her mouth. Forced to work quickly, she quickly dabbed with a napkin and touched up her makeup where necessary.

    “Good as new.”

    The walk through the parking lot felt unusual; Rachel could actually feel the food pressing against her stomach. She looked down and found her midsection very slightly swollen from the overload. With the euphoria of the meal passed, she now felt pangs of guilt. “Who knows how many laps it’ll take to run this off?” She walked into school, brushing off a few crumbs as she went.

    -*- ​

    Amy’s victory in the cafeteria was short-lived. The second the elevator doors had opened, all eyes were on her. They didn’t all stare, but she could feel her classmates’ glances as she walked by, mostly pitying but occasionally entertained by her embarrassment. She walked with her head down, trying to not attract attention; her size made this a bit difficult. Amy could feel not only sadness but anger welling up inside her, intensifying with every labored step. She took a deep breath and continued on; she couldn’t let them get to her. Not again.

    -*-​

    Once inside, Rachel carried on with her daily routine, as if the McDonalds episode had never happened. She dropped by the lunchroom to mingle with the clique for a while to trade gossip. Then she had to run to meet Howard.

    Giving her pants yet another loosening tug, she walked into the library and waited for him. Eventually he arrived, and Rachel had to look away to keep from laughing at him. Howard fit the “nerd” mold to a tee. He was wearing a dressy polo shirt with a few pens in the pocket and shorts that accentuated his nearly knee-high socks and sandals. The glasses just sort of completed the picture.

    Rachel plastered on a sexy smile and beckoned him over.

    “You have the paper?” she asked. He opened his backpack and pulled out a respectably-thick essay. Rachel reached out to take it, but Howard pulled it back.

    “We still on for this Saturday?”

    “Of course,” she said, batting her eyelashes seductively. She outstretched her hand, and Howard gladly placed the paper on her palm.

    “Okay, see you then.” With that he turned to leave, and Rachel did the same.

    During her freshman year, Rachel’s social life had become simply too demanding for her to also maintain her schoolwork. Instead of trying to find a balance between the two things, Rachel decided on a much easier solution: cheat. She had simply walked up to Howard, to whom she had never shown any attention other than ridicule, in line at lunch one day, and whispered sensually in his ear to meet her in the same library in which she now stood. He of course showed up, and soon they had an agreement: Howard would do all of Rachel’s homework, along with tests (Howard would always sit next to Rachel, making sure to be within easy copying distance), and Rachel would fill certain “needs” that Howard could not otherwise fill.

    Rachel was repulsed by everything about him, but it was worth it to gain her A+ average and later a Homecoming Queen nomination. This was why Rachel always got what she wanted: she knew how to manipulate. Rachel sucked up to the right people, slept with the right people, and occasionally did both at once; she hadn’t been denied a single thing since she was in the fifth grade.

    Walking in the hall, Rachel had the good fortune to run into Amy. As she shuffled by, there was no mistaking the beginnings of tears in her eyes or her cheeks, red with shame. “Though to be fair,” Rachel thought, “that second thing could be more from doing anything other than sitting on her ass. I’m glad she feels like crap; she should. Let this treatment be a lesson to her.” She smiled almost sadistically and stopped at a water fountain just to get a look at her from behind. It was almost sickening for her to see Amy’s bulging body walking into the distance, her backside swinging to catch up. “Disgusting.”

    Rachel continued on with a new spring in her step. She made it to the locker and got the books she needed, closed the door, turned around and came face to face with a school vending machine. She lingered, eyeing the machine’s contents. The yearning was back; she found herself once again craving something new and exciting. Her stomach voiced its agreement with an audible groan. The hearty breakfast was pushed to the back of her head, replaced by a single thought: “I’m so hungry.”

    -*-​

    A pair of eyes followed Rachel’s trip down the hall through the slits in a locker door. The eyes noticed her visibly tighter clothes. They noticed her belly, obviously stuffed and sticking out a bit through her shirt. The eyes observed her face, how her cheeks and chin were not quite as sleek as they had been. They also noticed the longing look she gave to the vending machine as she encountered it before actually stopping and buying something. Rachel strode past chewing, a bit of chocolate collected at the corner of her mouth.

    Cathy slammed the locker door shut wearing a huge grin. There was no longer any doubt that the five pounds had been transferred, along with the never-ending appetite that her stomach was already showing the strain of. Amy kneeled and placed her backpack on the floor; she unzipped it and smiled at the two dolls staring up at her. The tube between them clearly showed a bead very slowly moving from Amy to Rachel. Cathy focused intently upon the bead; it suddenly sped across and dropped through the other side. Cathy’s smile only grew larger. Everything was going according to plan.

    The five-minute bell rang throughout the hall and students began walking to their first period. Cathy remained at the locker pretending to look for something in her bag, waiting for the crowd of students to disperse. When she felt reasonably alone, she removed from the pack a pink gum eraser and the little leather pouch. She dipped her finger into the pouch and rubbed a bit of sand onto the eraser’s smooth surface, whispering rhythmically. The eraser darkened before her eyes, now jet black. Rachel’s doll was grabbed with her other hand; slowly, methodically, she began rubbing the eraser across its body. With each pass, Rachel’s muscle tone disappeared. A few swipes across the midsection and Rachel’s six-pack was gone, her stomach now completely smooth. The same occurred everywhere, from her butt to her breasts, from her arms to her legs.

    -*-​

    Rachel swallowed the last bit of candy bar and crumpled the wrapper in her hand. “Man that hit the spot.” She walked along briskly, rushing to class; she couldn’t afford to be late again. Then, out of nowhere, she fell. Her foot hit the floor and suddenly refused to support her, and she slumped to the floor.

    -*-​

    By the end of the erasure, the doll resembled a slightly-swollen version of its previous self. Muscle is heavier than fat, after all.

    -*-​

    A few boys quickly started over to help Rachel up, but she scrambled to her feet and continued on, smiling at them as if to say, “Thanks anyway.” She was a bit embarrassed, but was more confused than anything else. “What was that?” She certainly hadn’t tripped. It was as if her entire body had simultaneously gone out-of-whack. In fact, something still didn’t feel quite right. Her step no longer felt as smooth and graceful, as if she was forced to put more effort behind her movements. She seemed slower; her speed walk now fit comfortably within the crowd rather than allowing her to breeze through.

    The tardy bell sounded and the thoughts were instantly forgotten. She began to run, cursing under her breath. Coach Baskin was going to kill her.

    -*-​

    Cathy quickly re-zipped the backpack and set off for Economics. She would probably get detention for being late, but she frankly couldn’t care less. She was thinking of only one thing as she scampered down the corridor: gym class was going to be a lot more interesting for the new Rachel Peddin.
     
  3. Jan 2, 2010 #3

    spin_with_a_grin

    spin_with_a_grin

    spin_with_a_grin

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    awesome start - love where this is going
     
  4. Jan 2, 2010 #4

    IrishBard

    IrishBard

    IrishBard

    womble/leprechaun hybrid!

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    I saw the original of this, and I say what I said there

    "good start, It's very intriguing, I hope there is more."

    well maybe I didn't say that, but I loved the original, lets hope you complete more than that one.
     
  5. Jan 3, 2010 #5

    morepushing13

    morepushing13

    morepushing13

    Well-Known Member

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    please please keep going!!
     
  6. Jan 4, 2010 #6

    ShammyBoy

    ShammyBoy

    ShammyBoy

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    great rewrite! The original was good but this is looking very promising
     
  7. Jan 5, 2010 #7

    gainingdane

    gainingdane

    gainingdane

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    .....................
     
  8. Jan 6, 2010 #8

    Perry White

    Perry White

    Perry White

    Library Editor

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    Too bad more girls weren't on in this classic prank! Good for Cathy I guess, less work for her. ;)
     
  9. Jan 6, 2010 #9

    coolag12345

    coolag12345

    coolag12345

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    And less work for the author. :)
     
  10. Jan 6, 2010 #10

    iceflamefire

    iceflamefire

    iceflamefire

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    Great story! Keep up the good work.
     
  11. Jan 18, 2010 #11

    spin_with_a_grin

    spin_with_a_grin

    spin_with_a_grin

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    there have been a couple great starts to stories lately (this one included...."The Gym" comes to mind also), but then no further updates....hope to see more of this one. :)
     
  12. Feb 26, 2010 #12

    Melissa_cutebabe

    Melissa_cutebabe

    Melissa_cutebabe

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    I truly enjoy this story. Please continue.
     
  13. Mar 12, 2011 #13

    Nice-Girl

    Nice-Girl

    Nice-Girl

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    I hope you will continue it, very interesting story.
     
  14. Mar 19, 2011 #14

    masterofdisasta7

    masterofdisasta7

    masterofdisasta7

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    This story is amazing! Keep up the good work!
     
  15. Mar 25, 2011 #15

    FAelitist

    FAelitist

    FAelitist

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    I really hope it'll continue someday
     

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