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Literature
New Years: Resolution
This year was going to be the year, I told my plate of spaghetti and meatballs. This year, it was gonna happen. I was gonna cut out snacking, quit sugar, shrink down portions - all those things you saw written on women's magazine covers in bright pink IMPACT font - but this time I was actually going to go through with it. No quitting after a couple weeks, no cheating or forgetting or skipping. This was going to be the change I'd been waiting for.
There was no-one else in my flat, so I hadn't exactly bothered to get properly dressed - a baggy t-shirt that had belonged to my older brother at some point over old slacks were just about the extent of ability to care that that New Year's Eve. So, it was all too easy to reach down and pull my shirt up to address my belly directly.
"You're gonna be gone this time next year," I said to it, sternly, "You might not even make it 'till then, actually. I'm sorry, but the doctor's only giving you, hmm... eight - no, six months to live."
It didn't see
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Literature
A Chubby Girl, in the Fair Shoppe of Waitrose
‘Twere earlier this year, in the fair shoppe of Waitrose
When my curious eyes met a vision moste fair
A young girl, with plump cheeks as red as a rose
And bobbed at her shoulders, silken blonde hair
But despite these and other fine features most splendid
‘Twas none of these aspects that captured the eyes
For one’s bright attention both started and ended
At the shivering sight of her remarkable size
For by my estimation, as I gazéd transfixed
By that young Artemis who knew nothing of shame
Was that through dark sins of sloth and gluttony mixed
Her breadth and her height had become one and the same
So round was her body, clad in fat like a robe
That given free hand, a pen, and blue and green ink
I thought she would make a most functional globe
Though whenever she breathed, Atlantis might sink
She wore a white blouse of interminable volume
Yet her form it hugged closer than lovers in strife
‘Tween each button her flesh like pale mushrooms did bloom
From that g
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Literature
Hermione and Ginny - Witchy Weight Gain | Part 5
Hermione followed Professor McGonagall out of the Great Hall and along the corridor towards her office, barely managing to keep up with the older woman's long stride due to her aching stomach - at least, that was her excuse. Even had she not been full almost to bursting, chances are she'd still have struggled. The walk wasn't far though, and soon Professor McGonagall was unlocking a door and shooing Hermione inside.
"Sit down, sit down." The Transfiguration teacher ordered and Hermione obliged, wedging her ponderous hips into the seat of McGonagall's guest chair. There was a brief creaking of tortured wood as she transferred her weight to the spindly construction, but it settled without incident. There was a fluttering of nerves in her stomach - either that or her breakfast was still digesting. At that point it could be either.
"Biscuit?" McGonagall offered, but before Hermione could accept she pulled the tin away again, lips thin as she eyes the girl's bulky midsection, "On second tho
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Literature
Hermione and Ginny - Witchy Weight Gain | Part 4
“Oy! Fred, George,” Ginny intercepted the pair, setting herself squarely in front of them with hands on hips. A moment later Hermione arrived behind her, still clutching her aching belly, “What did you do to our uniforms?” she demanded, “Did you shrink them or something? They weren’t like this last year!”
Fred and George glanced at each other, both silently asking if the other was to blame but coming up with nothing. Then they looked back at the swollen girls.
The answer, honestly, was obvious to anyone looking at them – they’d put on weight, and a lot of it – but neither girl seemed to comprehend that in the slightest.
“Well, uh – it wasn’t us, we swear.”
Ginny stepped towards them, poking George in the chest with one pudgy finger.
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true!” One of the brothers protested, “Maybe you two have just… grown?” he ventured, but G
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Literature
Hermione and Ginny - Witchy Weight Gain | Part 3
"Damnit! It must be Fred and George. It's the only explanation."
Ginny flung another undersized skirt back into her trunk and sat down on the edge of Hermione's bed, sighing. She'd dragged her trunk through into her friend's dorm first thing that morning, the moment she’d realised that yesterday hadn't just been an anomaly - NONE of her clothes fit.
"I suppose it must be,” acknowledged Hermione, trying to button up a shirt with little success. "I don't suppose they could have been shrunk any other way?"
"None that I can think of!" Ginny lay back on Hermione's bed with a sigh. The two had barely made it back to Gryffindor tower last night, so stuffed were they from the feast - Ginny hadn't even had time to change into her nightclothes before she’d collapsed into bed and fallen immediately asleep. Now though her stomach was rumbling hungrily again - the pair's clothing trouble had already made them a few minutes late for breakfast.
"Well, I've tried every counter-charm
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Literature
Hermione and Ginny - Witchy Weight Gain | Part 2
The group of friends sat in the great hall: Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. It was the start of term feast, and they were all tucking in hungrily to the food before them. Over the six weeks of summer they had gotten rather used to Mrs Weasley’s ‘four large meals a day’ policy of cooking, a fact evident as they all ate with extraordinary gusto. Huge dishes of potatoes, Yorkshire puddings, parsnips, roast lamb, roast chicken, roast beef, gravy and all manner of other things burdened the table, though a considerable amount had already been consumed by the hungry students. In the Weasley household, it was customary to eat until you had reached your absolute limit, and then if you were being polite you ate a bit more.
Luckily for most of the Weasley children, they had inherited their father’s ultra-high metabolism and – combined with sport and a generally active lifestyle – had managed to stay on the skinny side. The exception to that rule was Ginny, who
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Literature
Hermione and Ginny - Witchy Weight Gain | Part 1
The Hogwarts express rattled on down the tracks, smoke puffing from its shining funnel as it steamed deep into Scotland. It was the first day of the new school year, and within all the students of Hogwarts were laughing and chatting together as they prepared for another year of magical studies.
Well... almost all of them. In one of the compartments, Hermione and Ginny were having less than a good time. They were putting on their school uniforms for the first time after the long summer, and finding it rather more difficult than they'd expected.
"Ginny?" Hermione asked, puffing for breath, "Did Mrs Weasley mention anything about accidentally shrinking our uniforms? Perhaps while she washed them?"
"I don't think so...” the other girl puffed. Ginny was stood on the opposite side of the compartment, breathing almost as heavily as Hermione was, “I bet you a Sickle this is a welcome back prank from Fred and George. I’m gonna hex their eyebrows off if it is. "
"Maybe," Hermio
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Literature
Fat Mages - The Ceremony
The peasant approached the temple. He hadn’t been planning to attend the initiation ceremony, not until that very morning, but the man in the public house had given very clear instructions.
And it wasn’t like he had anything left to lose.
The bell was striking a four as he hurried up the stained marble steps, the lines of enchanted conifer trees making a musical racket as he passed. The skies always seemed to clear when the mages met for ceremony, but he was used to working under the sun and the heat didn’t bother him. If anything it was a boon, a signal from one of the more benevolent gods that his cause was just - he’d sold his cloak for one last drink, after all, and the wind got deadly cold this high. Whether mage-spell or just plain luck, he was thankful for the break.
His fingers curled around the cold icon of metal in his left hand, feeling the letters engraved there. He couldn’t read, but even he could tell it was no common language – just lo
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Activity


This year was going to be the year, I told my plate of spaghetti and meatballs. This year, it was gonna happen. I was gonna cut out snacking, quit sugar, shrink down portions - all those things you saw written on women's magazine covers in bright pink IMPACT font - but this time I was actually going to go through with it. No quitting after a couple weeks, no cheating or forgetting or skipping. This was going to be the change I'd been waiting for.

There was no-one else in my flat, so I hadn't exactly bothered to get properly dressed - a baggy t-shirt that had belonged to my older brother at some point over old slacks were just about the extent of ability to care that that New Year's Eve. So, it was all too easy to reach down and pull my shirt up to address my belly directly.
"You're gonna be gone this time next year," I said to it, sternly, "You might not even make it 'till then, actually. I'm sorry, but the doctor's only giving you, hmm... eight - no, six months to live."
It didn't seem phased by its newfound expiration date, all told. It just sat in my lap, bulging over my waistband in a way that quite dismayed me. It even looked a tad bigger than it had just last week, but I knew that wasn't possible. If I'd already eaten that evening I'd have used the excuse that I was just bloated - as it was, I had to settle for the rather lacklustre 'just a trick of the light' approach.

"Yeah, that told you..." I muttered after a moment, giving my belly the evil eye. It returned the favour, navel creasing slightly as I changed position in a way that distinctly resembled a frown. It seemed to quiver slightly, though not in fear. It looked much more like a big cat about to pounce - or perhaps that had already pounced, and was now just playing with a meal that it knew couldn't escape.
I shivered slightly and let my shirt drop back down to cover up my midsection once more. After all, if I couldn't see it, it wasn't a threat, right? That was why I never looked as I snacked, anyway.

In any case, all of this was just planning for the future. The real change started tomorrow, once the bells had rung and the new year had arrived. Tonight, I could eat whatever I wanted. After all, I'd lose any weight I put on as soon as I started my diet tomorrow morning! Smiling happily to myself at the thought of my sister's face once I turned up for our summer vacation slim, trim and clad in my best bikini, I dug into my spaghetti and meatballs with reckless abandon, for this was my swan song of my old, unhealthy life, and the precursor to a new beginning.



In the end, it took me only six days, thirteen hours and thirty-five minutes to slip back into old habits. A particularly seductive muffin in a bakery window caught my eye like a fish on a hook, and all my best-layed plans came, inevitably, to nothing.
New Years: Resolution
The inevitable result of all fat girls' attempts to diet - at least in my fantasies :0
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‘Twere earlier this year, in the fair shoppe of Waitrose
When my curious eyes met a vision moste fair
A young girl, with plump cheeks as red as a rose
And bobbed at her shoulders, silken blonde hair

But despite these and other fine features most splendid
‘Twas none of these aspects that captured the eyes
For one’s bright attention both started and ended
At the shivering sight of her remarkable size

For by my estimation, as I gazéd transfixed
By that young Artemis who knew nothing of shame
Was that through dark sins of sloth and gluttony mixed
Her breadth and her height had become one and the same

So round was her body, clad in fat like a robe
That given free hand, a pen, and blue and green ink
I thought she would make a most functional globe
Though whenever she breathed, Atlantis might sink

She wore a white blouse of interminable volume
Yet her form it hugged closer than lovers in strife
‘Tween each button her flesh like pale mushrooms did bloom
From that garment so tight that I feared for her life

And glory be, I thought, to that bold law of nature
Which declared white fabric’s unique attribute
For when stretchéd as ‘twere by Artemis’ stature
Opaque ‘came transparent, and unveiled her fruit

But that moment did end, as all joy does time ruin
And that luminous creature was gone from my sight
Struggling away beneath the weight of her sin
That burden of Atlas on shoulders so slight
Hermione followed Professor McGonagall out of the Great Hall and along the corridor towards her office, barely managing to keep up with the older woman's long stride due to her aching stomach - at least, that was her excuse. Even had she not been full almost to bursting, chances are she'd still have struggled. The walk wasn't far though, and soon Professor McGonagall was unlocking a door and shooing Hermione inside.

"Sit down, sit down." The Transfiguration teacher ordered and Hermione obliged, wedging her ponderous hips into the seat of McGonagall's guest chair. There was a brief creaking of tortured wood as she transferred her weight to the spindly construction, but it settled without incident. There was a fluttering of nerves in her stomach - either that or her breakfast was still digesting. At that point it could be either.

"Biscuit?" McGonagall offered, but before Hermione could accept she pulled the tin away again, lips thin as she eyes the girl's bulky midsection, "On second thoughts, perhaps not."
Hermione opened her mouth in confusion, but shut it again just as quickly. That didn't matter right then - she wanted to know why she was there more than anything, and after a few moments of awkward silence McGonagall obliged.

"Do you know what this is, Miss Granger?" asked the elderly witch, drawing something small and golden from her robe pocket and showing it to Hermione. She stared at it for a moment, before realisation hit her.
"Oh! Is this a Time Turner?" she asked, awed. She'd read about them a lot, of course, but never seen one in real life - immensely powerful and possessing the power to literally rewrite the fabric of time itself, they were subject to such strict controls as to be all but unattainable.

Unless, of course, you needed one to take some extra classes at Hogwarts. Then, apparently, the Ministry was willing to practically fling the things at you.

"Indeed, Miss Granger,” the deputy headmistress confirmed her suspicions, “you requested one for use over this year's terms, so you could attend additional lessons," Hermione's hand reached out to touch the tiny hourglass, but McGonagall pulled it away before her fingers could meet it, "Be patient. You can have it in a minute. There are just a few legal things we need to go over first..."
But for once, Hermione Granger wasn’t listening to a teacher – she was lost in dreams of a million possibilities, all enabled by the miniature hourglass that hung temptingly before her like an apple in the Garden of Eden.
To get to it though, first she had to deal with the paperwork. Sighing, she pushed aside her plans for the future and sat forward to Professor McGonagall’s desk, and began studying the nigh-incomprehensible spread of legal documentation that lay before her.
Ugh… if only she hadn’t eaten so much that morning!



A short while later, up in Gryffindor Tower, Ginny Weasley was doing exactly what Hermione wished she could do – lying on her bed. Unlike Hermione’s, however, who had just found out she was going to be permitted access to an indescribably powerful magical artefact, Ginny’s day was going dreadfully.
It had been nearly half an hour now since she fled the Great Hall, but she felt awful – her thighs were burning from the unaccustomed exercise of sprinting upstairs, her cheeks were burning with appalled embarrassment, she was still out of breath from the run, and her clothes were absolutely ruined. Of her skirt and shirt, she had lost too much to even cast a Reparo charm on – every single button was gone, and the stitching was torn and strained beyond the ability of magic to mend. As for her bra, it was probably still lying abandoned on the floor of the Great Hall. Right then though, she didn’t care – she had never excessively bothered about modesty (how could she be, growing up with six older brothers?) but what had happened downstairs was mortifying nonetheless. In front of the entire school!

Interrupting her moping, however, was the sound of the dormitory door creaking slowly open. She hastily dried her eyes and pulled the blanket up to cover her bare chest as Hermione entered.
“G-go away,” Ginny said, not wanting her friend to see her in such a state, “I’m fine, leave me alone.”
Hermione shook her head at the sight of Ginny, ignoring her request completely and sitting down on the end of her bed. Ginny heard the bed frame creak slightly as it bore Hermione’s weight, before settling.
“What could it be then?” the brown-haired girl pondered.  She seemed to be in an unusually good mood, much to Ginny’s resentment, “Fred and George really didn’t seem to have any idea… I could have dispelled any mundane enchantment – and it’s happened to all our clothing, so they can’t have just shrunk in a wash. What else could possibly cause all our clothes to get spontaneously tighter over the summer though?”

Ginny stayed awkwardly silent. Denial is a powerful thing, but the evidence was piling up... right then though she didn’t want to face anything, so she bit her tongue and stayed silent as Hermione pondered the options.
“I suppose I’ll have to do some reading into it,” Hermione resolved, “Oh, and that reminds me why I came up here.”
She passed Ginny a slip of paper – her timetable for the term. Dread burgeoning in her bloated stomach, she saw her very first lesson; Potions. Of course. Just to make this day even better. She just wanted to burrow back under the covers and sleep for a week, but she knew Professor Snape would just make things even worse for her if she was late for her very first lesson of the new year.
But now again she was faced with the exact same dilemma she’d been dealing with this morning – what was she to wear?

She definitely wasn’t going to use ‘Espandere Aksis’ again, not after today, but she also couldn’t face squeezing herself into her old clothes again…
“Oh!” she gave a little cry as she suddenly had an idea. She slid out from under the covers and, as Hermione watched in bemusement, pulled open the trunk of another girl in the dorm and began rifling through her clothes.  After a moment she pulled out a skirt and a shirt and held them up, smiling to herself.

“I do hope you’re not stealing that,” Hermione said, disapprovingly. Ginny rolled her eyes.
“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Hermione. I’ll only be borrowing Dana’s uniform for a day or two until I can get some other clothes sorted, don’t worry.”
She got to her feet and began pulling the uniform on. It was just the right size for her, buttoning comfortably – though that realisation caused the smile to fade from her face somewhat. She’d always thought of Dana as a distinctly chubby girl; and yet here she was wearing her uniform, and it fit perfectly. The evidence mounted higher…

Hermione bit back her disapproval for the time being. Ginny had had a rough morning – and as long as she gave the uniform back soon she supposed there would be no lasting damage.
“Well, your Potions lesson is starting in ten minutes, so get changed quickly. I need to head off for Ancient Runes,” she said, checking her timetable – and almost grinning to herself as she saw that she was technically also due for Transfiguration that period as well, “I’ll see you at lunch.”

Ginny nodded absently, examining herself properly in a conjured mirror. The uniform really did fit very well; maybe she could ask Dana later what size she wore. Though on second thought, perhaps she didn’t really want to know…
Hermione and Ginny - Witchy Weight Gain | Part 5
The story continues. I'm rather proud of the time-turner idea, I'll be honest - it allows a lot of rather interesting possibilities...
Incidentally, if anyone wants to request a character they'd like to see included in the future, do feel free! I love me some audience participation.
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“Oy! Fred, George,” Ginny intercepted the pair, setting herself squarely in front of them with hands on hips. A moment later Hermione arrived behind her, still clutching her aching belly, “What did you do to our uniforms?” she demanded, “Did you shrink them or something? They weren’t like this last year!”

Fred and George glanced at each other, both silently asking if the other was to blame but coming up with nothing. Then they looked back at the swollen girls.
The answer, honestly, was obvious to anyone looking at them – they’d put on weight, and a lot of it – but neither girl seemed to comprehend that in the slightest.
“Well, uh – it wasn’t us, we swear.”
Ginny stepped towards them, poking George in the chest with one pudgy finger.
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true!” One of the brothers protested, “Maybe you two have just… grown?” he ventured, but Ginny shook her head.
“I’ve barely grown an inch over this summer, so no. And Hermione’s been 5’2 for years!”
“That’s, uh, not quite the type of growing I meant…” muttered Fred, but he let it drop, “Have you tried any counterspells?”
Hermione stepped forward.
“I’ve tried all the ones I know, so it’s probably irreversible,” she declared irritably. Fred and George shrugged.
“I dunno, we might know a couple. Fred, what’s that transfiguration–termination one?”
“Peractio?”
“Yeah that one. Have you tried that?” he raised his wand and started the spell, Ginny realising what he was doing a second too late to stop him.

“Wait- oof!” All the air was forced from Ginny’s lungs as her transfigured clothes clamped down on her, squashing her body from every direction. For half a second she teetered in place, gasping in pain, then with a sound of tearing seams that echoed around the Great Hall her clothing splintered.
Every button on her shirt popped off as one, bouncing like tossed dice across the stone floor and scattering under the house tables. The clasp of her bra wrenched itself apart with a crack, allowing the old favourite to fall away from her bulging chest. Her skirt split open down the front, revealing her pink polka-dot panties – also straining, but fortunately holding for now. Before she could so much as blink, she stood in the shreds of her clothes, all but naked in front of the entire school.

Harry and Ron stared open-mouthed as Ginny sprinted from the Great Hall, desperately clutching what tattered remains of her clothing that she could to her in an attempt to preserve some meagre scrap of modesty. They hadn’t heard what the girls had been discussing with the Weasley twins, but they certainly had been watching as Ginny’s clothes seemed to self-destruct in spectacular fashion.

Ron was looking rather horrified, an expression mirrored on the faces of Fred and George - they’d had no desire to see quite so much of their sister, that day or ever. Harry on the other hand was feeling flustered, face almost as red as Ginny’s had been. He couldn’t decide how he felt about the youngest Weasley, and this had done nothing to settle his feelings.

The rest of the breakfasters’ reactions ranged from disgusted scowls to elated giggles, depending mostly on gender and year. Some of the firsties were crawling under their tables to grab a button as a souvenir, and a couple of older boys had already sidled up to Fred and George to ask quietly for more details on the “clothesplosion” spell they had just witnessed – and looking morbidly curious as to why the first test subject had been their sister. Up at the head table, the teachers were all looking resolutely disinterested – this kind of thing wasn’t uncommon in Hogwarts, and as no video cameras functioned on the grounds, it would quickly be forgotten by all who didn’t possess a pensieve. A policy of feigned ignorance was usually the most efficient, they had found.

“I really should go after her…” Hermione muttered to herself, taking a couple of steps towards the double doors. Before she’d even drawn close however, her belly gave a lurch, gurgling angrily, and she doubled over groaning, “Ooooh… okay, I might have overdone it a little this morning,” she confessed under her breath. “I’ll just have a little sit-down...” she collapsed heavily onto the end of the Gryffindor bench, leaning her back against the table in an attempt to give her stomach some room. Ahhh… that was better.

“Miss Granger.” Hermione’s eyes snapped open – though she hadn’t even realised they’d been shut – and she was quite dismayed to see Professor McGonagall standing before her, a look of disapproval flickering about her face, “May I have a word?”
Oh no, what was it now?! Had Ginny gone and done something stupid after her flight? At that moment, Hermione just wanted to lie down and digest; but even in this state, she couldn’t say ‘no’ to a teacher.
“Of course Professor,” she said, and heaving herself to her feet, followed the Transfiguration teacher out of the Great Hall.
"Damnit! It must be Fred and George. It's the only explanation."
Ginny flung another undersized skirt back into her trunk and sat down on the edge of Hermione's bed, sighing. She'd dragged her trunk through into her friend's dorm first thing that morning, the moment she’d realised that yesterday hadn't just been an anomaly - NONE of her clothes fit.

"I suppose it must be,” acknowledged Hermione, trying to button up a shirt with little success. "I don't suppose they could have been shrunk any other way?"
"None that I can think of!" Ginny lay back on Hermione's bed with a sigh. The two had barely made it back to Gryffindor tower last night, so stuffed were they from the feast - Ginny hadn't even had time to change into her nightclothes before she’d collapsed into bed and fallen immediately asleep. Now though her stomach was rumbling hungrily again - the pair's clothing trouble had already made them a few minutes late for breakfast.

"Well, I've tried every counter-charm I know and they’ve done nothing." Hermione complained, looking put-out. She didn't like being outdone - especially not by the Weasley twins. "We'll have wear these for now, and talk to them at breakfast. It's not like we CAN'T wear the things, after all."
Ginny just harrumphed, too annoyed to bother forming a sentence. She still had a red mark around her middle where the waistband of her skirt had chafed the previous night, and she did not at all like the prospect of having to put on more clothes that didn't fit. She wasn't exactly nervous about showing her body (that would require some modicum of self-awareness, after all) but she preferred it when her clothes didn't feel like they were cutting her in half.

“Why can’t we just use that spell you used on the train yesterday?” she asked, suddenly remembering it, “I mean, as long as we stick away from the main gate we should be fine, right?”
“There’s a reason witches don’t go around wearing transfigured clothes if they can help it, Ginny,” Hermione began. “If you get too close to a counter-spell, or go through a charmed entranceway like I did last night – well, you saw what happened. It was irresponsible of me even to try it. It can be dangerous! Cindrolda the Wise, the headmistress of Hogwarts back in the 1700s, was almost killed when her dress turned back into a pumpkin after her transfiguration was…”

Ginny had tuned out though, as she normally did when Hermione started lecturing. She glanced down at herself distractedly, and frowned as she noticed that even her bra was too tight, her breasts spilling out in every direction. W-wait! Did -did that mean Fred and George had been through her underwear?

Before she could think much on it though, she realised Hermione had stopped talking and was looking at her expectantly.
“Uhm… yes?” She guessed, trying ineffectually to work out what the question might have been.
“Fine! Sure. Ignore my advice then,” Hermione complained huffily, “I’m going to go and get breakfast; the spell is ‘Espandere Aksis’. Good luck!” And with that, the older girl stomped out, shirt still only half-buttoned over her chest. Ginny raised an eyebrow as she watched her go, but once she was gone she turned back to the clothes in her trunk, considering. She really didn’t want to wear clothes as uncomfortably tight as yesterday’s if she could help it… well, what harm could it really do anyway? She grabbed a shirt that she distinctly remembered fitting last year, and tapped it with her wand.
“Espandere Aksis.”
As if by magic – which of course it was – the shirt loosened, expanding all over. She grinned to herself – why hadn’t Hermione wanted to use this again? It worked great!

A few minutes later she stood in front of the mirror back in her own dorm, admiring her reflection. She’d cast the ‘Espandere Aksis’ charm on, altogether, her shirt, her skirt, her jumper, and her underwear. She’d even managed to get that cute bra she’d grown out of a couple of years ago to fit again. She only brought it to Hogwarts nowadays for sentimental reasons – she never thought she’d actually wear it again!
Smiling happily to herself as she imagined how uncomfortable Hermione must be right then compared to her, she pulled on her shoes (one of the few things she hadn’t had to cast a spell on to make fit) and skipped downstairs towards the Great Hall, stomach grumbling loudly in anticipation of the meal that awaited her.




Despite the energy with which Ginny set off to the Great Hall that morning, by the time she actually got there she was feeling rather worn out. Her cheeks were red from the exertion of hurrying all the way down from Gryffindor Tower, and her stomach was rumbling more loudly than ever now that it had been jostled about so much. Had Hogwarts always had so many stairs? She was sure the walk hadn’t been as long and strenuous last year – ah well, it was probably nothing to worry about. The castle’s architecture was inconsistent at the best of times; it had probably just added another dozen steps to every staircase again.
She approached the double doors to head into the hall, and was rather surprised as she caught sight Hermione leaning against the wall just beside them, breathing heavily.

“Y’alright, Hermione?” she asked, concerned, but the larger girl straightened up as she approached, wiping her brow with the back of one chubby hand. She looked to have suffered even worse than Ginny from the walk down, body slick with sweat and face a luminous, London-bus red.
“Yeah, just having a- having a little rest before I head in. I’d forgotten how many stairs Hogwarts has, and I can’t breathe too well in these clothes.”
Ginny looked her up and down, before nodding sympathetically. The older girl’s clothes did look pretty constricting – her shirt was straining at the seams, little diamonds of pale flab revealed between each struggling button, and her skirt was so tight that the waistband was completely hidden beneath the soft overflow of her stomach.

“Well you shoulda used the spell you gave me. It works great!” Ginny gave a little twirl, showing off her newly-fitting clothes, “You were just unlucky yesterday, the spell’s fine!”
Hermione frowned at her, but looked too puffed to bother with a lecture - instead, she led the way into the Great Hall and to the Gryffindor table. It seemed as though Fred and George hadn’t arrived yet, so the two silently agreed to have a bite to eat before they asked the twins what had happened to their clothes.

The Gryffindor benches were already rather crowded with breakfasters, but they quickly spotted Harry and Ron and hurried over to sit opposite them. The two girls squeezed in, but a moment later a tiny first year yelped as she was squashed beneath Hermione’s expansive rear.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” Hermione jumped up again as she realised what had happened, flushing with embarrassment, “I, ah, didn’t see you there.”
That wasn’t entirely true – she had seen the girl, but her brain still hadn’t caught up with her body; as far as she was concerned, her hips were still as narrow as they had ever been.
“T’s’okay.” The girl muttered, moving up as best she could to allow Hermione the room needed sit down. Despite her efforts though it was barely enough, and they all ended up wedged tightly together on the bench. It was only fortunate that Ginny’s figure was rather boyish, holding most of her excess pounds around her waist instead of on her hips like Hermione. Had she been any wider, someone would have had to stand – and it certainly wouldn’t have been either of the hungry girls.

Without even greeting Harry or Ron, the two began shovelling food onto their plates and then into their mouth, and in record time great mounds of toast slathered with butter, eggs, bacon, baked beans and sausages had all disappeared into the two girls’ capacious stomachs. They ate so quickly as to barely even taste the food, hardly chewing most mouthfuls before swallowing them down into their increasingly-strained guts. In less time than it took to perform an intermediate transfiguration, the two were sitting back from the table, morning hunger abated and quite thoroughly stuffed.

All told, the two had eaten a similar amount - although Ginny was a year younger, she had the advantage of practice. Ever since she was a toddler, Mrs Weasley had delighted in overfeeding her – one of her earliest memories was sitting at the kitchen table, moaning at the packed, uncomfortable feeling in her stomach but also crying piteously for more food. She felt that discomfort again today – though not as strained as last night, her poor stretched stomach was once again filled to (and beyond) its capacity – and yet still she desired more food. For once though, her common sense overwhelmed her lust; she had lessons to attend today. She’d eat more later, and perhaps sneak a snack in one of her lessons.

Hermione, however, was more concerned for the state of her clothes. She couldn’t see much of her skirt past the distended bulge of her gut, but as she’d eaten that last slice of toast she could’ve sworn she’d felt stitches pop. The skirt was unbuttoned – it had been completely hopeless to so much as attempt to fasten it that morning, and she still had some impressive purple bruises from her little run-in with the main gate yesterday – but even that extra breathing room wasn’t enough anymore. The skirt was agonisingly tight, digging into the soft flesh of her underbelly and chunky sides.

“Hey, Hermione,” Ginny elbowed her friend in the ribs – or rather, in the flabby love handle that covered her ribs, “Fred and George are here! Let’s go ask ‘em about our clothes.” She gestured at the double doors, where the Weasley twins had indeed just appeared.
“Ugh…” Hermione groaned – she really didn’t feel like standing up right then. Her meal had just started digesting, and there was so much pressure inside her she feared she might burst if she moved too suddenly. Still, she couldn’t go around in these clothes forever.
Reluctantly, she levered herself to her feet – almost knocking the first year off the bench with her butt as she turned around - and followed Ginny towards the redheaded twins, cradling her aching belly all the while.

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ShamelessPride Featured By Owner May 12, 2017
thanks for the watch.
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sci-sinc Featured By Owner Mar 28, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the watch!
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Bonebell Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the watch :)
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JenNardacci Featured By Owner Jan 1, 2017  Student General Artist
Thx for the watch
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EyeBeast Featured By Owner Dec 30, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for watching, may you enjoy my stories.
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7SinsofWG Featured By Owner Dec 20, 2016
Thanks for the Watch!
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Mashuky Featured By Owner Dec 20, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
And the same to you :)
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Fatomnomics Featured By Owner Nov 19, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the watch :)
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Mashuky Featured By Owner Nov 19, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Ditto!
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Someplantface Featured By Owner Sep 28, 2016  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for the watch;w;
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