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Literature
Beer Has Calories?
“Damnit!”
Juliet looked up from her textbook, bemused, as Lara stomped into the kitchen from the bathroom. Her roommate was stripped down to only her underwear and looked decidedly annoyed – and upset.
“Your damned scale’s broken,” Lara complained after an awkward pause, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder towards the bathroom, “It’s gotta be.”
Juliet folded over the corner of her page and closed the textbook, then looked up at Lara with one eyebrow raised. This was a distraction from her work, but an interesting one.
“I don’t think so,” she said flatly, “It’s always accurate when I use it.”
“No way. The thing’s bust, it has to be,” she said, stamping her foot like a petulant child. Juliet watched curiously as the sharp motion set the flesh of Lara’s thigh quivering for a moment, shimmering lightly in the afternoon sunlight, “I’ve been sticking to my diet every si
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Literature
The Cursed Weight Gain Dream
Jenny didn’t believe in witchcraft.
Raised an atheist, she had always felt certain that spells and magic of any description were resolutely confined to the domain of fiction. Over the course of her miserable seventeenth year of life, however, her faith, or more accurately her lack of it, was shaken.
She’d started to have dreams. Every night, she dreamt the same thing; she’d be sitting in a majestic banquet hall, alone at a table that bowed under the weight of more food that any one person could hope to eat. And every night, the delicious scent of this fictional feast was so great that she couldn’t help but dig in with her bare hands. Plate after plate, serving after serving she would consume relentlessly, gorging without restraint like a starving animal.
There she would eat alone for what felt like hours, impossible amounts of food passing her lips and making its way to her stomach. By the time the feast was over and the grand table was bare she was stuffed, and
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Literature
Weight Gain Across America
“How as it my fault? You’re the one driving, so you’re responsible for any tickets. That makes sense.”
“It’s not my car! How was I supposed to know the tail light was out? And you’re the one that swore at the cop!”
“So what? He deserved it, all stuck-up and strutting around like he doesn’t have anything better to do than interrupt our vacation.”
“Yeah, but if you’d just shut your mouth for one minute he probably wouldn’t have ticketed us. The fine is totally on you!”
Ellen listened to her friends arguing from the back seat of the car, trying not to feel too discouraged. Not even an hour on the road and they’d already been ticketed, and since it was her car she had little doubt that she’d end up with the fine. A great road trip this was shaping up to be! They’d been planning this for ages, a monolithic two-month expedition across America, stopping off at motels each evening as the
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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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19 deviations
“Damnit!”
Juliet looked up from her textbook, bemused, as Lara stomped into the kitchen from the bathroom. Her roommate was stripped down to only her underwear and looked decidedly annoyed – and upset.
“Your damned scale’s broken,” Lara complained after an awkward pause, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder towards the bathroom, “It’s gotta be.”

Juliet folded over the corner of her page and closed the textbook, then looked up at Lara with one eyebrow raised. This was a distraction from her work, but an interesting one.
“I don’t think so,” she said flatly, “It’s always accurate when I use it.”

“No way. The thing’s bust, it has to be,” she said, stamping her foot like a petulant child. Juliet watched curiously as the sharp motion set the flesh of Lara’s thigh quivering for a moment, shimmering lightly in the afternoon sunlight, “I’ve been sticking to my diet every single day for a month. I’ve not cheated once, I haven’t forgotten to write anything down – but your stupid scale thinks that I’ve gained two pounds anyway!”

She slumped down into a chair opposite Juliet and groaned, grabbing a handful of stomach fat in each hand and squeezing it viciously. After a moment’s contemplative silence she let go, leaving red welts where her fingers had dug into her sensitive brown skin, and looked mournfully at Juliet.
“You know I’ve been sticking to my diet, you’ve been here, like, all the time. It’s physically impossible for me to be gaining more weight on 1800 calories a day, isn’t it?”

Juliet looked over her roommate dispassionately. The other girl was, in her own words, ‘way too fat’. Weighing 252 (or now, apparently, 254) pounds, and at five feet and three inches tall, she was decidedly heavy for a nineteen year old. More unfortunate was her shape – her excess pounds collected themselves obnoxiously around her midsection, whilst scarcely going near her chest or butt. As a result her appearance was dominated by a bulging pot belly and thick love handles that made clothes-shopping a special kind of hell – and had gotten her mistaken for a soon-to-be mother more than once, to her agonising embarrassment.

From what Juliet had gathered, Lara had been obese just about all her life; however, the stress of university had pushed her into putting on a further ten pounds in the first semester. That, combined with being brutally turned down by a hockey playing that she’d been crushing on since the first day on campus, had finally motivated her into starting a strict diet.

“You have been sticking to your meal plans,” Juliet said eventually. She had to give the other girl that much; she’d certainly been following her little meal schedule without distraction, “So, I suppose you should be losing weight. My scales aren’t broken though – they show the exact same number as the ones at the gym.”
Lara looked miserable. She looked down at herself, shaking her head slowly at the sight of her B-cup breasts and her distended gut resting on her thighs.
“I just… don’t get it. Could I have, like, a hormonal disorder or something? I’m so sick of this.”

Juliet cocked her head, the curls of her dark hair brushing her cheeks as she considered her answer. She knew exactly why her roommate hadn’t been losing any weight, and it certainly wasn’t a hormonal disorder.
“I wouldn’t imagine so. They’re rare, and didn’t you say your mother always fed you too much when you were young? It’s not like you always ate a sensible amount and gained weight anyway; your childhood obesity is well explained,” she paused, scrutinising Lara’s face. It wasn’t that Juliet didn’t want Lara to lose weight, to be happy. It was just that she honestly didn’t really care. And life was more interesting with the amusement of Lara’s careless attempts at dieting.
“It seems to me you’re probably failing to account for something in your intake,” she hinted eventually, curious as to whether Lara would finally realise what had been holding her back.

“No way! I’ve counted every snack and meal. I even count up the calories of the ingredients I make my sandwiches with! It has to be something else,” Lara objected, rubbing her temples. “Ah, screw it anyway. I need a drink,” she grunted after a moment of thinking. She slid off her chair, belly bouncing obstinately with the movement, and trotted over to the fridge. She pulled it open and grabbed a can of beer, pulling the tab as she sat back down on her chair opposite Juliet.

The pale girl watched her roommate take a long gulp of the beer, certain that she was about to realise where she’d been going wrong. If she’d cared more than the slightest amount, she might have held her breath in anticipation.
However, after a swallow and a stifled burp, Lara deposited her can on the table and returned to feeling sorry for herself, apparently still thoroughly ignorant. Juliet fiddled with her hair, feeling a vague sense of amazement at the fatter girl’s obliviousness. Three cans of beer was 450 calories. 400 more in the mocha she drank every morning. A can of soda with her lunch, then another with her sensible mid-afternoon snack totalled another 300. That was 1150 extra calories in her diet, plus whatever infernal cocktails and spirits she downed at the weekend, just from her drinks.

1800 plus 1150 was 2950. Consuming, therefore, nearly 3000 calories each day, it was no surprise that Lara was still putting on weight despite her diet.
Juliet pondered briefly whether she should mention this fact to the increasingly obese girl. It would just take a sentence, and she could revolutionise a life. To be 250 pounds and gaining at only nineteen… Lara might be losing a dozen years off her life due to her weight. Juliet had the power to give or take that with a sentence.

Without another word, Juliet stood up.
“Sorry, I really don’t know. Maybe if you stick with it things will get better,” she said blankly.
“Maybe…” Lara mumbled, looking miserable – and a little embarrassed at her emotional scene, “I’ll see if I lose some weight this next week.”

Juliet headed towards the door to the bedroom, watching discretely over her shoulder as Lara drained the can of beer and crumpled it. 150 calories, pouring into a belly that was already carrying the evidence of much, much more gluttony than that. She stepped into the bedroom and began to close the door, seeing through the gap before it closed to nothing that Lara was once again heading towards the fridge, searching out another drink to subdue her problems.

High on delicious irony, Juliet sat down on her bed and silently laughed.


A few months later…

Juliet glanced up from her work as Lara shambled past her, pudgy rear swaying slightly on her way towards the fridge. Her wobbling gait betrayed her tipsiness, even as she grabbed a beer and took a long swig from it. Juliet raised an eyebrow – it was only four P.M.

“How much have you had to drink today, Lara?” Juliet asked after a brief period of deliberation. She generally stayed away from interfering in other people’s habits, but this was interesting. “You look drunk.”
Lara looked over at her, eyes taking a moment to focus.
“What? I’m… I dunno. I haven’t had that much to drink,” she shrugged clumsily, spilling beer onto her pudgy wrist in the process, “I’m fine.”

“That’s your sixth beer, and it’s not even evening yet. Slow down, or you’ll black out before dinner again,” Juliet admonished coolly.
“I- is it?” Lara asked, looked in surprise at the can clutched in her hand, “I feel fine, y’know…?”

She didn’t look fine. In fact, she looked a mess; her top was too short for her, her increasingly obvious pot-belly sagging out from beneath the hem: her leggings had a rip down one side: her hair was scraggly and unwashed – and all that was to say nothing of her obvious state of intoxication.
“Actually, you look awful,” Juliet said nonchalantly. Lara’s face quivered.
“You… think so?” she worried, looking as though she were about to cry.
Juliet nodded.
“Yes, you look awful. Please tell me you didn’t go to lectures dressed like that.”

Lara looked vaguely stunned.
“I… my clothes are all dirty, this is all that was clean…” she mumbled, face flushing.
“That’s because you don’t do laundry,” Juliet pointed out, “Because you’re always too drunk to bother.”

And just like that, Lara crumbled. She stumbled into a chair and began sobbing, breaking down hopelessly as the other girl watched.
“I-I just can’t help it,” she blubbed, tears dripping into her beer, “Nothing I do is working!”
Juliet did her best to act the comforting friend. She stood up and came around the table, put her arm around Lara’s shoulder and cooed vaguely in the way she had seen people do to reassure upset toddlers.
“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” she patted her roommate on the back, “You’re okay, you’re okay.”

“I’m not o-okay, though!” Lara protested tearfully, taking a gulp of beer and almost choking on it. “I’m fat! And my diet’s not doing anything and I just keep getting fatter!”
Juliet moved her head slightly, squinting at the printing on the beer can. 146 calories, emblazoned right there on the side. She knew Lara could read English, and understood what a calorie was – how was she not realising where she was going wrong?
“That’s true, you have been sticking to your diet when it comes to food, I know that. Maybe you’re taking in extra calories somewhere else?” she hinted blatantly. Short of just directly telling the increasingly obese girl – now 261 pounds, if the number saved in the scale was correct – she was being as obvious as she possibly could be.

“There’s nowhere else! I’m logging all my food, I swear,” Lara wailed, and Juliet patted her arm comfortingly. It felt soft beneath her hand as she patted it, any muscle that might be present buried in a thick sheath of fat. Juliet wondered in a disconnected manner if any of the weight Lara had put on recently had made its way there. How fascinating it was that a little extra food each day could change a body so visibly.

“I know you are, I know you are,” Juliet whispered in a way that she hoped was calming. Well, it had been fun – but it was time for the game to end. “Could you maybe be… drinking the extra calories?” she suggested, leaning round to see the no-doubt glorious expression of realisation on Lara’s face. However, she was only confronted by the same tearful misery as ever.
“No, drinks barely have any calories,” the fat girl protested, taking a fifty calorie swig from her beer, “They don’t count.”

Juliet was genuinely stunned. Generally in life, things played out as she expected them to. People reacted in the same boring ways, did the same boring things, failed and succeeded in a predictable manner. However, here was a girl so oblivious that she defied all that. How fascinating.
Curious and dispassionate as an anatomist dissecting a frog, Juliet probed further.
“What about coffee? You drink one of those every day.”
“N-no, it’s just beans and water! I don’t even add any sugar,” Lara cried, draining her beer and crushing the can in her pudgy palm. And with that, Juliet changed her mind.

“Absolutely, yes, drinks don’t have calories. Sorry, I must have been thinking of something else,” Juliet deadpanned, hugging her roommate tightly around the shoulder, “Forget I said anything; I don’t know anything about diets, honestly.”
“O-okay…” Lara mumbled, following Juliet’s advice at once. Her crying had subsided a little now, though her round cheeks were still wet with tears.

“Now,” Juliet said, a friendly smile flickering around her mouth, “Why don’t I go and get you another beer?”
Beer Has Calories?
About 154 calories, in fact. More than enough to throw off a diet.

This was written for the prompt 'alcohol', hence all the beer. If you want to join the writing group, feel free to do so using this link.
discord.gg/GQVWYb2
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Jenny didn’t believe in witchcraft.
Raised an atheist, she had always felt certain that spells and magic of any description were resolutely confined to the domain of fiction. Over the course of her miserable seventeenth year of life, however, her faith, or more accurately her lack of it, was shaken.

She’d started to have dreams. Every night, she dreamt the same thing; she’d be sitting in a majestic banquet hall, alone at a table that bowed under the weight of more food that any one person could hope to eat. And every night, the delicious scent of this fictional feast was so great that she couldn’t help but dig in with her bare hands. Plate after plate, serving after serving she would consume relentlessly, gorging without restraint like a starving animal.
There she would eat alone for what felt like hours, impossible amounts of food passing her lips and making its way to her stomach. By the time the feast was over and the grand table was bare she was stuffed, and the dream would always end with Jenny painfully full, belly swollen out grotesquely before her, waves of discomfort and nausea washing over her as she dealt with the consequences of her impossible meal.

Having unusual nightmares wasn’t the issue, however. Jenny knew that recurring dreams were a perfectly natural phenomenon, and that experiencing them was certainly no supernatural experience. They were perhaps indicative of some underlying psychological disorder, but merely having the same dream every night was no cause for concern.


What worried Jenny was when the dream seemed to be affecting her real life.
She started waking up feeling already full, like she’d been snacking during the night. To begin with she’d just attributed it to the placebo effect; that she was subconsciously assuming that because she vividly remembered eating, she was feeling full even though she hadn’t actually consumed anything. So, she ignored it and carried on. Sometimes she’d even feel too full for breakfast, though she usually managed to get something down before she headed off for class.
If anything, she saw the unusual fullness as a boon; after all, how many teenage girls had wished for a smaller appetite?

After a few weeks though, the pernicious dream had begun to manifest itself in a way that was far less welcome; she’d begun to gain weight. At first it had only been minor, a slight softening of her belly that was almost unnoticeable. At 5’2 and 135 pounds, Jenny was curvy in the best possible sense of the word; her wide hips and impressive rear had earned her many admirers at school, complimented by a considerable bust, smooth caramel skin and glossy dark hair. However, the path she walked was narrow, and a single step out of its bounds was apt to cause significant damage. A few pounds gain and she would slip into the domain of chubby; a few less and her curves would vanish.

That was why when one day the number on the scale read as 139 pounds instead of the normal 135, she was considerably more perturbed than most girls would be at a four pound gain across several weeks. She took an immense amount of pride in her appearance, and even that small gain caused her considerable anxiety; that week she cut back on her already carefully-measured meals, reducing her intake to 1500 calories a day, comforting herself with the certainty that the weight would be gone again soon.
Jenny’s sister Morgan, two years younger at fifteen, was in Jenny’s eyes definitive proof that extra weight did not suit their family at all - unlike most of Hispanic descent. Although only thirty pounds heavier than Jenny all of her excess weight seemed to have collected unattractively on her midsection, dulling her curves and granting her a potbelly that her sister teased her about relentlessly. The idea of looking anything like Morgan turned Jenny’s stomach.


However, her reduced diet didn’t seem to do anything. In fact, when after another two weeks she’d somehow managed to put on another three pounds, Jenny began to panic. It was then, standing in front of the mirror, almost hyperventilating about what was now undeniably a slight pudgy belly forming on her midsection, that she remembered the dreams. Could she be somehow eating in her sleep?

That night, she gave Morgan the key to her bedroom door, along with firm instruction not to open it until the following morning. That night she went to bed with her mind at ease – but that night she had the dream again, and awoke feeling as full as ever.

Increasingly anxious, she disregarded the theory it had anything to do with her dreams for the time being and instead cut her daily intake down to a measly 1200 calories. No longer eating breakfast and hardly touching lunch, she managed to maintain the new diet – though barely. She was increasingly lethargic throughout the day due to lack of energy, barely able to concentrate in class or keep up with her teammates during hockey practice.
The latter of those was of greater concern to her than the former; they had a tournament coming up in a couple of months, and as team captain it was on her to make sure they won. She reassured herself though with the notion that this was only for a little while – soon this weight would be gone, she’d be able to eat properly again, and she could throw herself into practice sessions renewed and energetic.


Her horror then, when she only continued to gain weight, was perhaps understandable. Three weeks passed of daily near-starvation, and still by the end she had gained another five pounds. Now 147 pounds in total, she still wasn’t what most people would even call chubby, but she was definitely carrying a bit of extra weight. Her belly had been hit the worst, a little layer of fat leaving it protruding an inch or so out from her body in a way it never had before. Her crop tops and skin-tight shirts were by now gathering dust at the very back of her wardrobe, too unpleasant a sight for her to bear seeing them every day.

Frantic, she finally begged her mother to take her to the clinic. The understanding old doctor there looked her over, took a sample of blood from her arm, then sent her away with the reassurance that if anything was wrong with her then they’d call her within a few days.

They phoned the following weekend to tell her that her blood was perfectly fine – a diagnosis that to most people would be greatly relieving, but to Jenny was horrifying. She’d put on another pound that week, and she’d been desperately hoping that she was suffering from some simple disorder-caused weight gain that could be cured with a pill or two.


Now running low on options, she turned back to suspecting the dreams. Could food that she just imagined eating really be affecting her in real life? She couldn’t really believe it, but nevertheless that night she set up a camera pointed at her bed, set to record all night, and hastened to sleep.
The following morning she woke, feeling as full as normal, to find the recording entirely unremarkable. She fast-forwarded through hours of footage, anxious to find anything even remotely resembling a possible cause, but the most remarkable thing the camera caught in nine hours of recording was a moth fluttering around the bedpost for a few seconds.


Over the next few months, Jenny tried every fad diet, exercise regime and alternative therapy she could find, increasingly desperate to find a solution as her weight spiked higher than she’d ever dreaded. Perpetually exhausted from not eating enough she fell hopelessly behind in hockey, and eventually the coach reluctantly relieved her of her captainship, consigning her to the bench until she improved. She could barely find it in her to care though, as her weight leaped up recklessly past 150, then 160 pounds.

164 pounds was when she began to lose hope. She was now medically obese; a diagnosis which should have horrified her, but that she’d seen inevitably approaching for weeks.  She was now quite obviously chubby, something her friends at school wasted no time in haranguing her about – they and Jenny had spent so long teasing other girls about being overweight, including Jenny’s own sister Morgan, that now the glove was on the other figurative hand the irony just made the situation all the more painful.

Again, most of the extra weight had gone to her stomach. She now possessed a genuine chubby belly, a thick layer of fat that sat crassly out in front of her at all times. Even when it was hidden under a loose top or sweater she knew it was there, bulging uncomfortably over the waistband of her jeans, soft and toneless and indestructible.
The rest of her had suffered too. Her butt had grown larger but had lost its tone in the process, growing flabby and weak - a process not helped by her hockey training coming to complete halt. Her thighs had thickened, having started to brush together as she walked at around 155 pounds and only getting bigger from there, the blossoming cellulite marring her caramel skin causing her to throw out all the shorts she owned in despair. The only change that she didn’t entirely despise was the acquisition of one extra cup size, as at least a couple of the thirty pounds she had gained over the last few months found their way to her chest.


And so finally, now medically obese and completely lacking any explanation for how her life had suddenly gone so wrong, Jenny turned wearily and reluctantly to the supernatural for an explanation. Could it be that the dreams were some sort of curse, or other malignant spell? She began to spend hours cooped up in her room, browsing various online boards and libraries in a search for some sort of solution. She still wasn’t at all sure whether she even believed in magic, but every other explanation had failed her.
Giving up on normal weight loss methods she began eating more and more, completely ignoring her regimented diet in exchange for snacks and second helpings whenever she cared to have them. After all, cutting back hadn’t helped her at all thus far; why expend all that effort if she was just going to gain weight anyway? Instead she turned to crystals and mumbled spells to save her, muttering esoteric chants long into the dark hours of the mornings in the half-hearted hope that somehow she could find a cure for this apparently indomitable gain.


Unfortunately, this new lifestyle only made her problem worse. Her gain accelerated, and though she no longer looked at the scale any more, over the next few months she left behind any resemblance of her curvy-but-trim old body for an almost unrecognisable new one. At nearly 220 pounds it was undeniably obese, dominated by a swollen, weighty belly that spilled over the waistband of the sweatpants she was now rarely seen without. Her navel had vanished into a crease as her stomach slowly threatened to develop into two folds, thick love handles bulging out on each side of her waist. Her breasts had begun to lose their perkiness; her thighs had thickened until they were rarely apart; even her arms had grown noticeably fatter, muscle tone disappearing with disuse as they became swaddled in warm fat.
Every aspect of her had softened and expanded, but she had begun to feel numb to it all, barely even caring as she became increasingly obese. Extended family visiting that Christmas were visibly shocked by her transformation, the curvy, pretty girl they remembered now buried beneath the 85 extra pounds which weighed down her body - but even the sight of their dismay barely touched her.
Jenny had been utterly broken by the unbreakable curse of the dream.


When, in the small hours of the New Year, Morgan was caught sneaking into Jenny’s room with a bowl full of turkey stuffing and lard, the now morbidly obese girl couldn’t even bring herself to feel betrayed. In fact, the only feeling she could muster as Morgan tearfully confessed that she had been secretly feeding her sister every single night for months was a dull sense of awe. To get revenge for the teasing, her little sister had been staying up late every single night to stuff Jenny as she slept, spending every cent of her allowance and doctoring video evidence whenever necessary. It was incredible.

As Morgan promised, sobbing, that she would never do anything of the sort again, Jenny could only gaze on at her in bemusement. There had never been a disease after all, or a sleepwalking disorder, or even a curse. It had always just been Morgan.



The following night Jenny awoke at three in the morning, absolutely ravenous. Her stomach was gurgling and aching with emptiness, and she felt sick from hunger. Desperate for satiation, she climbed out of bed and snuck downstairs to the kitchen, bare thighs rubbing together, belly bouncing tangibly with every step down which she hastened. Once there she ripped open the fridge and began to aimlessly gorge, chugging milk, cold pasta, sandwich meats – anything to fill the Pavlovian void inside of her. Having now started the feast she found herself completely unable to stop, eating like a starving animal as she choked down impossible amounts of food across half an hour, the dim light of the fridge illuminating her body in an unhealthy pale light. By the time she felt able to stop, the shelves of the fridge were all but bare and her gut felt ready to burst, packed to its limits with food beneath the thick layer of fat that was her belly. With nothing else to do she stumbled clumsily upstairs, waves of discomfort and nausea washing over her as every step of the staircase further aggravated her stretched, abused gut.

Finally, after what felt like hours of pained climbing, she reached her room and collapsed into her bed, and dreamed once again of the great feast.
The Cursed Weight Gain Dream
Remember kids - don't do magic dreams.

This short story was written for the prompt 'Dreams and Dreaming'. I generally hate dreams in literature, especially in weight gain stories; they tend to feel like consequence-free pandering, an excuse to make a character incredibly fat for a short while before restoring the status quo. This was my attempt at writing a story that revolves around a dream, but features as little actual dreaming as possible. 

If you want to join the writing group for which this was written, feel free to use this link!
discord.gg/GQVWYb2
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“How as it my fault? You’re the one driving, so you’re responsible for any tickets. That makes sense.”
“It’s not my car! How was I supposed to know the tail light was out? And you’re the one that swore at the cop!”
“So what? He deserved it, all stuck-up and strutting around like he doesn’t have anything better to do than interrupt our vacation.”
“Yeah, but if you’d just shut your mouth for one minute he probably wouldn’t have ticketed us. The fine is totally on you!”

Ellen listened to her friends arguing from the back seat of the car, trying not to feel too discouraged. Not even an hour on the road and they’d already been ticketed, and since it was her car she had little doubt that she’d end up with the fine. A great road trip this was shaping up to be! They’d been planning this for ages, a monolithic two-month expedition across America, stopping off at motels each evening as they made their way through just about every location in the country, but now they’d scarcely begun and there were already setbacks.

She leaned back in her seat, squinting as the midmorning sun flickered intermittently across her face, and tried not to think about it – but Erica and Lydia’s incessant bickering from the front was making it difficult to forget. Lydia had been driving, but she’d not really done anything wrong; it had been Erica that had sworn at the cop and earned them the ticket, by Ellen’s modest consideration.

After a few minutes trying to ignore the escalating argument in the front, Ellen sat up and leaned forward, interjecting her head between the two bickerers.
“Hey, either of you hungry? There’s a rest stop coming up, maybe we could get a bite to eat before we carry on,” she suggested mildly, leaving the ‘maybe that’ll shut you up’ to subtext. Erica and Lydia were unshakeably close friends, but they did love to argue, much to Ellen’s ire.
After a brief moment of deliberation, Erica shrugged.
“Sure, I’m pretty hungry. I barely got any breakfast this morning; I didn’t have enough time for it after my run and packing and stuff.”
Erica was remorselessly athletic. Every single day since they’d first met in high school she’d gone for a run in the morning, then to the gym in the evening after class. It had been a struggle just to get her to agree to come on a vacation where they’d be in a car so much, instead of going off biking or hiking or some such sport.

However, Ellen had to admit… in the past year, she had noticed some changes in her friend’s body. She was still as muscled as ever, but the laxer diet she’d been affording herself in the past year away from home seemed to be having some effect. There was a slight thickness to her midsection that had never been there before. It was just a few pounds, but enough to soften the once-solid outline of muscle there and bulge slightly over the tight waistband of her jean shorts.

“Cool. Lydia, you want to get some food?” Ellen asked, turning now to her friend in the driver’s seat.

“Hey, why not?” Lydia answered quickly, “It’s our vacation after all. As soon as I get back home I’ll have mom breathing down my neck every time I even think about eating, so I may as well enjoy this while I can.”

Lydia’s mom had a reason to be worried, Ellen reflected, looking her friend up and down as they pulled into the rest stop. Lydia had been decidedly on the heavier side her entire life, but the past year had been especially cruel to her; she’d blossomed hastily from a chubby-but-shapely teenager into a rather uncomfortably obese young woman, body swelling in every direction as her gluttony got the better of her as she was finally emancipated from her stern parents. She still retained some of the pear shape and smooth caramel skin of her younger years, those boons of her Hispanic descent, but even in the past few months they had begun to fade beneath the weight of poor choices.

They pulled into the line for the drive-through, and the three girls all scanned the menu as they waited for the line to move along. Ellen was just resolving that she wasn’t all that hungry, and that a coffee and a muffin would probably be more than enough for her, when an excited exclamation from Lydia made her jump.
“Hey! How about this…” the athletic girl began, a glint in her eye that made Ellen feel decidedly nervous, “I propose a challenge, one that should resolve the matter of the ticket.”

Both other girls looked at her, bemused.
“Do we really need a resolution?” Ellen said, frustrated, “It’s my car, I’ll pay it. Come on, let’s just forget it.”
“Nah, I’ve got an idea! It’ll be fun,” Erica laughed. Somehow Ellen doubted it, “Look, it’s like this; every time we pass a rest stop with a drive-through, we’ve each gotta buy something and eat it. Whoever gives up and can’t eat any more first wins. Simple!”

There was a moment’s pause as the other girls digested the suggestion, then after a moment, Lydia spoke doubtfully.
“Do you really think you could win against me?” she asked, a little self-consciously.
“Sure! I’m taller than you, I have a big appetite, and I barely ate breakfast. I’ll beat you in a heartbeat!”
“No way! You don’t have a chance,” Lydia shook her head, amused.

“H-hey! Aren’t you forgetting someone? I’m gonna lose for sure in a competition like this!” Ellen interjected hastily. She was a slight girl, short and slim, and held no delusions regarding such facts.

“Well, maybe,” Erica shrugged, “But if you take the challenge at least you have a chance of not paying. C’mon Ell, it’ll be fun!”

“Well, I’m in,” Lydia growled, competitive spirit thoroughly roused, “I’m gonna make you pay that fine!”

It took a moment, but after some mild cajoling from the other two, the vacation atmosphere got through to Ellen, and with a reluctant smile she agreed to join in.



Before long they were in the parking lot, tucking into their purchases. Ellen was cautiously sipping her coffee and nibbling on her muffin, trying not to get too many crumbs on the upholstery as she wondered quite what she’d gotten herself into. Erica had gone with some sort of breakfast wrap and had already almost finished it, but Lydia, in a show of reckless bravado, had gone ahead and purchased pretty much an entire meal. Pancakes and syrup, a muffin, coffee and two jelly doughnuts, all of which she was now eating with such confidence that Ellen couldn’t help but feel certain that the larger girl was sure to win.

Ellen finished her muffin around the same time Lydia finished her last doughnut, crumpling the wrapper and sticking it in the plastic bag she’d sensibly brought along for this very eventuality. She watched the heavier girl licking the fingers of one hand clean of jelly and sugar, the other resting unconsciously on her full belly, and at that moment Ellen resolved that she was going to win this competition.
Lydia certainly had the advantage in appetite and sheer stomach-space, but she was also overconfident, partially full just from her first meal. If Ellen paced herself and didn’t get cocky… well, she could win this – and that’d show both of them!


Before long they were on the road again, but scarcely had they been driving for thirty minutes before they came upon another rest stop. Still fired up with enthusiasm, they pulled into the drive-through and ordered once again. Ellen remained sensible, taking only another coffee and a bagel; already more than she’d eat on the average morning, but she could deal with it.
Erica and Lydia, meanwhile, had gotten themselves into a rowdy competition at the window. Erica had ordered a glazed doughnut, then Lydia had ordered three. Erica upped hers to four, then Lydia responded in kind… in the end, both of them were sitting in the parking lot facing the prospect of a half-dozen each, and Ellen was feeling increasingly smug about her chances as she watched them tuck in. If they kept stuffing themselves like this… well, even her meagre appetite might win her the day!


Soon they were off again. Ellen had taken over the driving for now; having finished her bagel long before her friends had their doughnuts, she’d offered to take over for a bit while they ate in the back seat. Neither of them seemed to be slowing down yet – at least as far as she could tell from her snatched glimpses in the rear-view mirror – but she had no doubt that they were beginning to feel full. She, on the other hand, was… well, not starving, but there was still plenty of room in her stomach left available.

She adjusted the rear-view mirror to afford a better view of her passengers, smiling quietly to herself at the sight of their increasingly swollen midsections. On Lydia it wasn’t really very noticeable; even when the chubby girl hadn’t yet eaten at all, her belly bulged over the waistband of her leggings and rested lightly on her thighs as she sat. The swelling caused by a few doughnuts and pancakes wasn’t going to be too visible under all that flab.
Erica, however, was a different story. Her stomach was visibly bloated, the waistband of her jean shorts digging into her belly in a manner that looked more uncomfortable with each passing mouthful. It looked quite odd; a full rounded belly on an otherwise so athletic body. Soon, Ellen hoped, the sporty girl would be reaching her limit. Then Ellen might actually win one of these silly competitions for once!


The next few rest stops passed by in a blur of unhealthy food and increasing stomach pain. Even sensibly buying as little as possible at each stop, by the time the afternoon was drawing to a close the girls had stopped at a total of eight drive-throughs, and even Ellen was feeling uncomfortably stuffed.
She was driving with one hand on the steering wheel, the other massaging her aching gut through her shirt. She’d eaten more in the past few hours than she normally would in an entire day, and her stomach was not at all hesitant to object to its abuse with angry gurgles and spikes of discomfort whenever she shifted in her seat. She didn’t know how much more of this she could take. From the map, it was only a few miles more to the motel where they were planning to stay the night, but she was reaching her capacity. Determined though she was to show up her friends and win the competition, her motivation did have limits.

She glanced at the image of said friends in the rear-view mirror, and was pleased to see that they at least seemed to be as stuffed as she was. Erica now looked almost pregnant, her belly swollen tight as a drum, pushing against her long-since-unbuttoned jean shorts. There was still a look of casual confidence adorning her face, but Ellen could see in the mirror that whenever she thought nobody was looking that it fell away to reveal discomfort in its place.

The past few stops, both Erica and Lydia had begun ordering less with each order, evidently already regretting their initial bravado as the reality that the competition wasn’t going to be over anytime soon set in. Any advantage they may have had originally over Ellen was long since sabotaged by their recklessness, and now both of them had taken to ordering only a single sandwich or muffin at each stop.

That said, Ellen had to say that she was impressed by Lydia’s appetite. The girl had eaten a full breakfast that morning, then at each stop she’d eaten at least as much as Erica and usually a little more. According to Ellen’s very rough mental mathematics, that was easily 4000 or so calories, but she’d packed them away with confidence and had only recently begun to tire.
That said, the effects of her gorging were beginning to show on her body now. Her belly was even more rounded than usual, the sheer quantity of food within making her look painfully bloated despite the thick layers of fat that buried her midsection. The increased bulk had pushed her overworked tank-top into riding up a little, revealing a wide wedge of caramel flesh spilling over her waistband and into her lap, an arrangement Ellen was having a peculiar difficulty in looking away from.


“Ugh, there’s another rest stop coming up,” Erica complained suddenly, making Ellen jump and focus on the road, “At least this’ll probably be the last one of the day. Man, I’m getting sick of fast food!”
That wasn’t something Ellen had thought she’d ever hear Erica say. The other girl had always had a determined fondness for junk, trusting more to her metabolism and active lifestyle to keep her trim than paying much attention to her diet. Seeing her get sick of fast food was quite an event.

“Sounds like you’re going to be losing the competition then,” Lydia jabbed, brushing crumbs off her lap and onto the floor of the car, “’Cos I’ve still got plenty of space left to fill.”
“Hah, sure you have,” Erica snorted disbelievingly. Lydia glared at her.
“I do! I’m barely full at all,” she boasted. Normally she was quite shy about her appetite, but when among friends and caught up in the competitive spirit she could forget her self-consciousness for a while. She patted her plump belly with one hand, “Still plenty of room to spare!”
“Oh really? Well then, I dare you to order, um… a double cheeseburger meal deal!” Erica launched her challenge, eyes flashing victoriously as Lydia looked uncertain. The expression was only fleeting though, replaced almost immediately by the familiar bravado.
“Easy, I eat meal deals for breakfast,” Lydia boasted, and not inaccurately, “I’ll do it.”

Ignoring her friends once again, Ellen pulled into the rest stop drive-through and waited to be served. This competition was turning out to be more trouble than the ticket ever could have been!


By the time they had been served and found a place to park the sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon, drowning the car in an orange glow as they all unwrapped their meals. Ellen had a crispy chicken salad; the smallest-looking thing she’d found on the menu. Nonetheless, now that it was in her hands it managed to look intimidatingly massive, thick slabs of chicken accompanied by a few wrinkled lettuce leaves slathered with salad dressing.
Erica had also ordered sensibly, and was already nibbling away reluctantly on a sausage roll that somehow looked at once miserably shrivelled and uncomfortably large.

In sharp contrast to the two smaller girls’ practical choices, Lydia had honoured Erica’s dare, and was now unwrapping a double cheeseburger, large fries, onion rings and a Coke. Just the thought of eating so much grease and meat at this point almost turned Ellen’s stomach, so it was with some admiration that she watched Lydia begin to tuck in to her oversized finale.

After a few minutes, both Ellen and Erica were finished with their own modest portions and only Lydia was left eating. She ate slowly but consistently, first demolishing the fries one by one, then moving on to the onion rings. Her belly swelled subtly larger with each bite, bulging rounder as more and more food slid down her throat and into her expansive gut. By the time she had finished the onion rings and was finally onto the burger, her top had ridden up almost to her navel, revealing a great swathe of her chubby stomach. She had some reddish stretch marks across the side of her belly that Ellen had never seen before, and she wondered if they were the scars of her friend’s hefty gain over the past year.

Lydia was almost halfway through the burger now but she was starting to hesitate, taking lengthy breaks between each mouthful just to catch her breath and wait for the pain in her stomach to die down. Sauce smeared itself across her face as her eating became more careless, and Ellen watched in fascination as a single drop of grease dripped from her chin and onto her exposed belly, where it slithered its slow way down the stretched caramel skin all the way to the waistband of her leggings, where it was absorbed by the clingy fabric.

Ellen was torn in her desires. On the one hand, if this burger defeated Lydia, then Ellen had managed to avoid losing despite the odds, and she didn’t have to pay the fine for the car. On the other, there was a fairly big part of her that just wanted to see Lydia succeed victorious in this absurd challenge and finish her meal, fine be damned.

Now though it seemed like Lydia had given up, the last few mouthfuls of the burger utterly defeating her. She was leaning back in her seat, grimacing with discomfort as the mass of unhealthy grease and sugar that she’d forced into herself that day churned and roiled inside her gut. Indeed, a smug Erica seemed just about to declare Lydia the loser, when suddenly the girl in question opened her mouth and let out a loud, uncomfortable belch. Without even pausing to excuse herself, she immediately took advantage of the sudden opening and stuffed the last mouthful of burger into her mouth, then washed it down with the last of the Coke and swallowed with difficulty. The meal was done, and Lydia stood – or rather, sat – victorious.

Ellen and Erica could only look at each other, impressed and unnerved in equal measure. Their friend was capable of feats of sheer gluttony far greater than any they could have expected. It was slightly revolting, but at the same time Ellen couldn’t help but feel awed.

After that there were a few minutes of silence in the car, broken only by the gurgling of their bellies and the occasional pained groan from Lydia. Eventually though, Erica broke the silence with a reluctant phrase; one that sent fear through the hearts of all three girls and made them all wish, not for the last time, that they hadn’t agreed to this stupid challenge.
“Well, if none of us are out… I guess that means we’ll have to keep going tomorrow.”
Weight Gain Across America
A short story written for the prompt 'Road Trip'. Three girls travel across America on a grand road trip, overeating all the way. Might write a sequel sometime, I rather like the premise. 
If you want to join the writing group for which this story was written, feel free to join the Discord!
discord.gg/GQVWYb2
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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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:iconforcedlactationlover:
Forcedlactationlover Featured By Owner Jul 14, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the Watch. Please enjoy what you find.  Thanks for everything! Added to my devWatch! 
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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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