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About Literature / Student Member Zonker "All you need is love -- and some love handles to carry your love around."Male/United States Groups :iconlove-is-genuine: Love-is-genuine
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Zonker "All you need is love -- and some love handles to carry your love around."
Artist | Student | Literature
United States
When you're sad, you expand a little.
When you're happy, you expand a lot.


Putting in some old stories as I "scrub" them for the deviantArt version of "porn"...  Old story "Cheesecake and Man-boobs" now up! Check it out if you haven't read it before.  Or re-visit the short-short vignette if you have.
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(Contains: sexual themes and ideologically sensitive material)

Chapter 4
Tricks Follow Treats

Phil was a broken man, and I should have felt sorry for him, quaking and crying in my arms. But he had treated me so badly, that all I could think was, "Serves you right!"

I know I shouldn't have been so mean to him, but I had put up with his relentless criticism for a long time, and to see him bawling now, so subservient and growing fat, it made me happy! Finally, I was the one who was on top in this relationship.

After about 10 minutes, I pushed him gently away, and pushed the hair back out of his tear-streaked face.

"Look at me, Phil," I said. "No matter what has happened, I love you, and I always will.

He looked searchingly into my eyes and stopped crying. I let go of one of his nipples, took a generous hunk of rich chocolate cake and shoved it into his open mouth. He ate it eagerly and hungrily. His eyes begged me for more cake, so I kept fondling him and feeding him cake until it was gone. Then, I made sure he finished the pie.

"You were horrible to me, but that's in the past now," I assured him. "The future looks fantastic! You've become such an excellent fat f*ck now." I petted his head to give him comfort. "Why would I leave you when you're getting to be so good for f*cking!" I exclaimed, rubbing his tummy flab and kissing him deeply on the mouth, ooh, that mouth filled with such delicious chocolate.

"I'll keep getting better!" he exclaimed when we finished that long kiss. "I promise. Just don't leave me. I'll get fatter and fatter for you! I'll f*ck and f*ck and f*ck, just like I am supposed to do."

"You know how to be a good chubby hubby now." I complimented him, adding, "In fact, you are getting beyond chubby - and just to good old plain fat." We kissed passionately some more, and he kept kissing my face as I talked. "You're so much more handsome and more manly, such a big man," I said, fondling his bigger, fuller breasts. "Of course, you've got your feminine side as well." I surveyed his breasts thinking it might not be long before they were bigger than mine. "You are the yin and the yang, both masculine and feminine. I love how subservient you have become. A good fat f*ck-boy knows his place and what he exists for."

Phil enthusiastically agreed with a blissful smile on his chocolate covered face.

"Where's my martini?" I asked. He looked startled, then worried about pleasing me immediately. He got up instantly and rushed to get me one. I called after him, "And you should have a beer. In fact, bring the cooler, so you don't have to keep going up and down the steps."


Thanksgiving fed into Christmas, then New Year's Day when I mounted the scales myself to discover that I had been gaining weight despite my resolve to exercise more and eat less. Phil was making life too easy for me!

I didn't have to lift a finger from the time I got home until I left the next morning. If I even started to get up and get myself a drink or fix some popcorn, he would push me back in the recliner with a "Tsk, tsk, I'm supposed to take care of you, Carrie. I love to please you." And he would be off to get me anything I desired.

By Valentine's Day, I was busting out of my worksuits. I insisted that Phil keep from serving me so much, but then I would turn around and ask for something to eat or drink. I don't know why that happened, but I couldn't stop myself! His cooking was that good!

Something about his letting go and getting fat had perhaps released my appetite as well. And soon, his daily massages of my shoulders would include a belly rub, often ending in another amorous session in bed.

I had started smoking to try to keep from gaining more weight, but for some reason, the cigarettes only enhanced my appetite, and soon, I found I couldn't quit smoking -- or drinking!

Since I was being served so many martinis, I found myself becoming addicted to alcohol in a way I had never imagined possible. Soon, I was joining Phil in drinking beer after beer after beer each evening.

Valentine's Day approached, and we both anticipated it eagerly! But it was the day when I found out that this magic potion had some powerful side effects.

Phil prepared for days, baking, cooking, making sweet chocolate candies, cupid cookies, pies, even a huge heart-shaped cake. I was determined that all those calories would end up fattening him, not me!

But even after weighing myself on Valentine's Day morning, and finding that I was now up to 157 pounds, from 125 last Halloween, I could not stop Phil nor his delicious food.

At first, I accepted it. It's just one day, after all! I thought. I could not deny him the joy of serving me big slices of cake, one after another after another. By the end of the evening, I was drunk and dizzy from the chocolate, the butter and the sugar -- not to mention all the alcohol!

I tried to shoo Phil away as he tried to feed me more fried chicken and fried potatoes and gravy, but he insisted that his job was to make me happy, and he knew how much I loved his cooking.

Finally, I got a bit upset with him, telling him that he shouldn't be tempting me with so much good food.

"I love to please you," he said in a soft monotone. "I need to please you. There is nothing I would not do to please you."

With a shock, I realized that his words were an echo of my recitation to him the day her drank that potion last Halloween.

"But you are supposed to do what I say, Phil!" I said, getting very angry now. "I don't want you cooking so much food for me to eat or feeding me so much or fixing me so many drinks."

"That is not what you really want," he replied flatly. "Whenever I serve you, you eat. Everything that pleases you is right. You want to eat and drink more and more. Everyday, I love you more and more. And it pleases you. I can deny you nothing you want. There is nothing I wold not do to please you."

Again, I recalled my words last Halloween. And I realized with a shock that Phil was not the only one who had no willpower.

I looked at him in awe as he took three bites of food, then fed me one. Even though I was stuffed, I could not stop myself from opening my mouth for some delicious pie.

I had to do something to stop this!

"Really, Phil, I want you to stop! Can't you see how fat I'm getting!?"

I stood and patted my belly which was now bulging out over top of my jeans.

"I have no complaints about you because you are perfect in every way," Phil said, again repeating my own incantation from three and a half months ago. He stood up and gently pushed me back into my chair, piling food up on my plate, then getting me another large bourbon.

"But- but- but-," I tried to interrupt, but each time I opened my mouth, he filled it, all the while continuing to tell me words I knew too well.

"Every day, I am pleased and delighted by you more and more," he said, pushing cake into my mouth. "Everything that pleases you is right." He served me another drink, then another, then another. I was getting too drunk and forgetting to watch my appetites. After a while, my protestations grew quieter and quieter until I was nearly silent and accepting what was happening.

All the while, he continued his litany. My last slurred words were, "Too fat."

"Too fat?" Phil repeated. "Not at all. You are perfect in every way. I love you. I have always loved you. Everyday, I am pleased and delighted by you more and more. I am for f*cking and I always want sex. Whatevr you want is what I want. I can deny you nothing."

Somewhere along there, I passed out, while he was still feeding me. When I awakened, he had his shirt off, and his big belly and flabby chest were in full view.

"Goodness, you are getting to be such a heavyweight hotty," I slurred, sputtering some of the fried potatoes from my mouth.

"Just think how I'll look by Easter," he said, standing up and turning his body around like a fashion model, so gloriously flabby that his bits jiggled as he twirled.

In just three and a half months, my handsome husband had almost doubled his weight, going from a puny 140 pounds - lightweight for a 6-foot-tall man - to a generous, sexy 250 pounds of flabby masculinity. Well, not all masculine.

He had lost his wide shouldered look and thin waist with cut abs. His chiseled jawline was buried under a double chin. He was starting to look almost like a big fat woman - except for that wonderful hard c*ck which he always seemed to have ready for me anytime day or night.

Still, his androgynous looks were quite appealing to me. I have nothing against big soft tits and a big ass, and he had it all!

And while eating our feast, he showed no signs of slowing down. His tits - he called them "he-hooters" - had swollen up remarkably, and I wondered how he would feel if I suggested a bra. Soon, the weight might cause his back some trouble, but until he complained, I would just enjoy the view of watching them swing freely.

His waistline had grown from a thin 29 inches to more than 50 inches.

Keeping him in clothes and food had been pretty costly, but now that he was taking care of everything at home, and I didn't have the stress of dealing with a disagreeable spouse, my work was going very well.

Commissions picked up a lot, and I was actually promoted, getting a generous raise. Looking down at my bloated body, I realized that I needed to buy some new suits, though, due to my weight gain.

And how was I going to stop gaining, given Phil's new mission to "please" me. I had to think of something to undo that part of the spell.

"Oooh, someone's getting pleasingly plump," he said, reaching out and touching my belly as he fed me the last few bites. "Better stop it, mistress! I'm the fat one in this couple." His voice sounded teasing and playful, just the kind of thing to turn me on.

He struggled to lift me out of my chair and carried me upstairs to the bedroom. That night, we made the bed creak like it had never done so before.

(to be continued)

Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: sexual themes and ideologically sensitive material)

Chapter 3
Phil Becomes My Dream Lover

Just then, the doorbell rang, and the first of our trick-or-treaters were greeted by a rumpled Phil dressed only in his tshirt and bathrobe, his hair disheveled, his bloated belly snug against the robe belt.

Maybe they thought he was a sort of slobby chubby zombie, I thought to myself. Throughout the evening, he got up each time the doorbell rang, and greeted the kids and parents enthusiastically, giving them lots of candy, often while talking fondly about the goodies.

"Oooh, I just love these peanut butter cups, but oh, so fattening!" he said to one of the cute mothers as he popped a few in his mouth. "You know what they say, a moment on the lips, forever on the hips." He was almost effeminate in his patter, and many of the moms seemed to enjoy his pleasantries. I even saw a few who were amazed, even delighted, at how much candy he was eating while handing out a few pieces to the kids. A few were peeking at that stuffed belly stretching the robe's belt. It made me recall the shopkeeper's saying that lots of women love watching men eat and grow fat.

Finally, the time for trick or treats was over, and we switched off the front porch light.

Phil sat on the couch, finishing off the remainder of the candy bowl. He turned to get the pastry box I handed to him. He smiled an ecstatic smile, all that sugar making him high and stupid as could be. "Would you like one?" he asked, pointing to the pastries. "They look so good, I just had to have some."

"Well, you know, I want you to eat them all, Phil," said I. "Besides, I am absolutely stuffed from your delicious dinner. I reached down to pat my midsection, noting that even I had a bit of a bloated bulge. I made a promise to myself to do some extra exercises tomorrow.

"I want to make you happy, and cooking for you is one way to do so," Phil said in an almost monotone mindless tone.

"Anyway, you can make me happy by eating more and more," I said. "I have always thought you were too thin."

"Really?" he said coyly. I picked up an eclair and fed it to him. He devoured it with obvious enjoyment. "These are so good," he commented. "I'd eaten four pastries before you got home, then supper, and all that candy, and I'm still famished. I thought giving up smoking was supposed to make you gain weight, not starting again." He giggled like a giddy schoolgirl. In fact, one change in him was that he seemed indeed to be getting stupider, and I figured that might be a side effect of my desires for him to become my fat f*ck.

We talked and he ate three more pastries, smoked, and gradually moved himself closer to me. All his body language said "F*ck me." While we talked, I reached out and untied his robe, then reached between his legs. He was very firm to the touch, and caressing his hard shaft made him melt into my embrace.

When I stood up, I helped him to his feet, slowly since he was so stuffed. I led him to the bedroom, quickly pulled his robe and tshirt off, and then pushed his naked body onto the bed. His stomach was tight as a drum. I laid him down and massaged his swollen gut. He moaned with pleasure. Then we made love as we hadn't ever made love before.

The next morning, he was asleep when I left, but I didn't want to disturb him, especially with all those fattening calories doing their work in his digestive system. That evening, Phil again greeted me warmly with a foot massage, a back rub, an immaculate house and a homecooked dinner. Again, I may have eaten too much, reminding myself that I had not even done my daily exercises and resolving to do so soon.

While he served dinner, I got us each a large bourbon and coke, about half bourbon and half coke. I noted with pleasure a new pastry box, new but empty. All those pastries he ate while I was gone didn't slow down his appetite at dinner. He ate thrice as much as I did -- and I ate more than I usually do -- including a pecan pie drowned in whipped cream. He fell asleep on the couch next to me while we watched TV. I refreshed his drink and I got out the laptop, surfing the internet for photos of fat men when he woke up.

"What are you looking at?" he asked sleepily, reaching for a cigarette.

"Photos of big beautiful handsome men," I replied, handing his drink to him. He took a big gulp of bourbon. He hadn't been much of a drinker lately, but he was obviously enjoying this drink. He smiled a half-drunken innocent smile.

"May I see, too?" he asked.

"Of course," I said. "That's why I have these on the laptop, so we can both look at them together." He positioned himself with drink and ashtray within easy reach and curled up next to me. I went from one photo to the next and made sure to linger on the fattest men with the biggest bellies and manboobs.

After a few minutes, Phil unbuttoned his shirt, then unfastened his pants - which were definitely tighter than they'd ever been. He held his small swollen belly in his hands. Pouting, he said, "My belly is so small, and I have no manboobs like they do. I am disgusting!"

"That's because you're so thin," I replied. He nodded in agreement. "As you get fatter, your belly will get much bigger. As big as his," I said, pointing to a man whose huge gut drooped down nearly to his knees. He had huge soft moobs which hung down upon his bloated belly.

"Do you really think so?" Phil asked excitedly, pointing to the photo. "I wish I had a handsome fat body like his."

"He is very attractive, but he's not perfect," I answered. We spent the next hour looking at the photos, critiquing each man's physique. As I expected, Phil agreed with everything I said. He really had no choice, now that the potion was kicking in more fully.

"Can I print some pictures from these websites?" he asked. "I want to look at them often to remind me what you like best. I want to please you."

"Sure!" I said, sending photo after photo to our wireless printer.

Phil got up to go into the kitchen. "While you're there, get me a coffee," I said, "and have another bourbon for yourself," I added, noting that his glass was empty. "And maybe some beer as well."

He returned with our drinks and a platter of little sandwiches, some brownies and a bowl of whipping cream.

"I got really hungry looking at those photos," he explained. We watched a movie, and he ate steadily through the whole thing. He got up once to get more beer and returned with a small cooler full of beer bottles and ice, so he wouldn't have to waste time or calories going back for more. At Phil's insistence, I even drank a few beers, and I was buzzed as I watched his gluttony unfold.

I especially liked how he dipped his brownies in the whipping cream. He'd occasionally make comments about the movie. For example, "That actor would be handsome if he weren't so slender and muscular." Once, he even leaned against me and whispered, "I wonder why that woman doesn't make her man mind her. It's obvious that is what he wants her to do, to be her servant in all ways."

After the movie, I helped him shuffle up the steps and into the bedroom and we made love for hours. He seemed insatiable, and I was on top of the world - especially when Phil was on top of me, his round tight full belly pushing against me so erotically. Just the feel of that belly gave me multiple orgasms - so many I lost count, and I almost lost consciousness. He was becoming a big-bellied ***ing machine!

By the time I got home the next day, he had put the photos of fat men with the most enormous bellies and manboobs on the refrigerator and on the mirror in our bathroom. He even put a few in his wallet, so he could look at them when he was out shopping for food.

Phil was agreeable now, nothing like how he had been. As the weeks behavior kept changing, always for the better. He seemed to exist only to please me.

Thanksgiving was a four-day feed-fest for Phil, and he cooked, served food, ate, did laundry, made the bed, and cleaned up the house. I didn't have to do anything, not move a finger at all. All I had to do was eat and get fu*ked repeatedly by his hot softening body. I noticed that as a result of all this focus on eating, I had even gained a few pounds. All that food and not having to do anything meant my metabolism was slowing down.

"Do you want to get fat like me?" Phil asked innocently as he patted my small beginner belly the Saturday after Thanksgiving as we continued to plow through the leftover pies.

"No," I insisted. "It's just that you are such a good cook, I can't hardly say no to your delicious meals, especially your pies." I resolved I had better get to the gym and make sure to avoid gaining any further holiday weight.

The next week, I came home to find Phil naked in bed in tears, sitting with a half eaten pumpkin pie in front of him and a half-eaten German chocolate cake on the nightstand next to the bed. He tried to stop crying, which only made him cry more. He was programmed to be happy by the potion, so whatever was going on was some pretty powerful stuff.

I sat next to him and held him tight, my arms stretching around his belly and love handles. He calmed down, and I asked him what was the matter.

"I've been such a horrible husband to you," he said. "I have been such a mean egotistical bastard, I don't know how you could have put up with me! I'm so frightened that you'll decide to leave me because I've been such a terrible son of a b*tch!"

"Yes, you were a terrible husband, and you wouldn't even f*ck me like a good slutty boy should," I said, with a bit of mean tone in my voice, scooping up a bit of pie and feeding him. He started sobbing again. He looked adorable, sitting there with pie crust and whipped cream on his newly-softening chest. I watched his flabby breasts jiggling as he sobbed, and his belly shake like jelly. I started to massage his nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. God, he looked gorgeous!

I pulled him close and held him, watching his soft belly bulge out as I fed him more and more.

(more to come, of course)

Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: nudity, sexual themes, strong language and ideologically sensitive material)

Chapter 2
A Big Change in Phil

I practiced what I was going to say to Phil as I heard him come down the steps.

"Oh, you're still here," he said dully when he saw me.

"I thought we could have breakfast together," I said pleasantly, trying very hard to jeep any sense of tension or excitement from my voice.

"Does this mean you've finally been fired again for incompetence?" he asked, looking at the microwave clock which read 9:04 a.m.

"No, not at all, but they owe me a little comp time," I said evenly. "I was kind of tired and didn't want to rush in this morning. We haven't anything pressing on my schedule today. Tea?"

"Whatever," Phil said, picking up a piece of toast, scraping the unmelted butter off. "Still trying to make me fat, I see," he muttered derisively.

I poured tea into the cup I had prepared for him. "And cream in my coffee to make me fat as well."

He pushed the cup away, and I felt my heart sink, that my plans would not work.

"Hon, just this once, enjoy a little cream in your tea.," I said. "You've been exercising so much lately. You deserve a little pleasure this morning."

He reluctantly took the cup from my hand in a way that made clear that he thought me incapable of setting it down without making a mess. I pretended to ignore him as he drank it. He drank the whole thing down, and pushed the empty cup toward me. He seemed on the verge of saying something, but sat silent and stared fixedly ahead.

I set the timer on the microwave for 60 seconds. I opened my iPad, pushed the timer button and began reading from the screen, slowly and distinctly.

"You love me. You have always loved me. Every day, you love me more and more. Every day, you need me more and more. You have no complaints about me, because I am perfect in every way."

Seeing 44 seconds left, I continued at an even pace.

"Every day, you are pleased and delighted by me more and more. You trust me absolutely. You love to please me. You need to please me. You love for me to tell you what to do. There is nothing you would not do to please me. Every day, you are happier with me. Everything that pleases me is right."

I saw the number :23 on the microwave and picked up my speed, still speaking deliberately and clearly.

"You are for ***ing ,and you always want sex. Your body will change to please me more. You will grow as fat as I wish you. You will start smoking again. A lot. You will start drinking again. A lot."

There were :08 seconds left. I rushed the words.

"Whatever I want is what you want. Everything I do pleases you perfectly. You can deny me nothing, you have no will power. "

I finished just before the microwave timer dinged. Phil's eyelids closed. I put away my iPad, refilled Phil's teacup and sat back down. After a few minutes, a shudder passed through his body, he opened his eyes and asked me when I was going to leave.

"I'll just finish my tea."
"Well," he said, "don't rush off on my account."

I opened up my iPad and surfed the Web for specific pictures. I found an old 1960s advertisement showing a slender Mad Men-type hunk smoking a cigarette.

"Doesn't he look sexy, holding that cigarette, Phil?"

"You've got to be kidding," Phil replied.

"Of course, he's much too thin," I remarked, putting down the iPad and finishing my tea. I collected my briefcase and things, and headed for the door.

Phil got up to see me off, something he had never done before, not even when we were first married. He hugged me tightly, then looked a little confused.

"When will you be home?" he asked.

"Oh, about the usual time," I replied.

"Couldn't you come home just a little sooner?" he begged, as though he were afraid to be left alone, very out of character for Phil.

"If I can get off early, I will come straight home," I answered. As I leaned forward to kiss his cheek, he leaned away from me at first. Then, quite suddenly, his lips met mine and opened for a very passionate kiss. He looked at me with a yearning but confused expression on his face.

"Be good," I said and strode out of the door.

Keeping my mind on work was nearly impossible. At work, we were in a bit of a slack period that autumn. Nothing pressing or urgent to accomplish. About an hour early, I left for home, feeling very nervous. I wondered what I would find at home as I passed the corner shop, still deserted, dusty and desolate.

I walked in the door, yelling, "Honey, I'm home," in a sing-songy voice, reminding me of one of those 50s husbands greeting his little woman at the end of the day. That notion made me smile. I was the breadwinner after all, and my hubby existed only to serve me well. At least, that was my hope, that the witch-shopkeeper's potion had miraculously worked.

The place was neat and tidy. Generally, Phil had been leaving all the housework to me, then criticizing everything I did, so a clean house was a big change. A delicious smell wafted from the kitchen, but I did not at first see my husband until I looked through the window on the kitchen door.

He was sitting on the back porch diving into a big half-empty box of pastries. Hearing me, Phil put down a half-eaten cream puff and rushed to me, folding me in a loving embrace. He was wearing a tshirt and loose robe. I could feel he was wearing nothing underneath.

"Oh!" he exclaimed with excitement. I could feel his excitement beneath that robe, poking me as we hugged. This was certainly a big change in his attitude, and I felt a confident smirk upon my face. "I am so glad you were able to come home early."

"Well, I expect you to be my happy hubby," I say, tussling his hair, something which would have driven him into a rage before. He simply acted like a puppy being petted by a loving master - or rather, mistress.

He led me to the living room. "Please sit down," he said, pushing me gently into his recliner - the one he'd never let me sit in before. He sat in my lap, and I could feel his sharp bones poking into me, his hip bones, his ribs even. I moaned from the discomfort.

"You're so skinny and bony, Phil" I said in the kind of critical tone he once used on me. He looked at me like a whipped puppy, and I felt badly, so I added, "I am glad you are eating lots of pastries, so maybe you can grow a fatter and softer and not hurt me so much."

"I will do as you say, Carrie," he said, standing now and leaning over and kissing me very passionately. "I will eat more and more to grow chubby and please you."

He then ran off to the kitchen, returning with a martini for me. He got down on his knees in front of me, removing my shoes and massaging my feet while I sipped my martini. I felt like I was in seventh heaven as the afternoon shifted slowly to evening, and the shadows moved about the room as the sky darkened outside.

"Something smells heavenly. What are you cooking?" I asked as he finished massaging my feet, then got my slippers and led me to the kitchen table. He sat down in the chair facing me across the table.

"It's your favorite, roast beef with asparagus and baby carrots," he said, looking deeply into my eyes. He sat back, lit a cigarette and said, "I missed you so much!" blowing a big smoke ring over my head. I did not comment on the cigarette, but a little shock must have crosssed my face. He took my hand in his and remarked, "Oh, I could never give up smoking. I have absolutely no will power at all."

"I didn't marry you because of your will power," I said and reached forward to caress his cheek. "You look very handsome this evening."

"Speaking of will power," he said, getting up suddenly and crossing the room, "I haven't been able to keep out of the Halloween candy. I hope I have enough left for our little ghosts and goblins tonight."

Just then, the doorbell rang, and we heard kids yelling outside the door, "Trick or treat!"

(This story is an homage to anonymous classic "Peggy's New Life."

(more to come)

Bewitched and Fattened 2
Carrie places Phil under the spell with the magic potion, and at least for now, everything seems to be going her way as her hubby begins to transform into a nice compliant subservient man.

Not for tender innocent easily-disturbed readers.  Contains a lot of Halloween magic, along with a fattening husband who becomes basically a f*cktoy for his wife.  If you find such things disturbing, please go elsewhere, and find what makes you happy.

Your Fun Size Horror Story!
A 100-word horror story for Halloween

You cannot halt your gluttony!

From their bowl, the Fun Size candies tempt you,  “Eat us, Tubby!”

“Leave me alone!” you scream, unable to stop gobbling them down.

“Never, Fatso! Eat!”

“Oh my gawd,” you moan with pleasure, decadent chocolates filling your mouth.

“Soon, you’ll be Fun Size like us,” they chortle.

Your waistline thickens.  The candy bowl magically refills. As if possessed, your hands reach for more candies.

“I don’t want to get fat!”

“Fat is fun! Eat up, Chubs!”

Just then, your pants seams split. A shirt button pops off.  Your new potbelly bulges obscenely, filled with fun.

Your Fun Size Horror Story!
A magically refilling candy bowl and talking candy bars conspire to fatten you up!

I thought the earlier version was a bit tame, considering that Halloween should be scary.  And what's more scary than losing control of your appetite -- and growing fat!

Here is a cautionary tale for anyone sitting near a candy bowl right now!  You'd better move away while you still can.

You know you are food-addicted when chocolate starts talking to you, and when you can't stop listening to its tempting pleas.  I have some Crunch and Milky Way fun size bars right here, and what? They seem to be saying something to me:  "Eat, eat, eat, Tubs!"

(A revision of an earlier version of this, changing the third-person to second-person to make it a bit more terrifying for those whose fears include losing control of their appetites and growing nice and fat.)

Journal History

Please help me!

I am still seeking anyone who may have a copy of my story "Cory and Geoffrey".  The dA folks removed it from this site, calling it pornographic.  If you have a copy or downloaded it, please send it to me. It was my only copy.  I did not save it anywhere else, and I would love to "sanitize" and repost it here -- plus, post the more explicit version elsewhere.

I have put most of my works in storage, and I am slowly going through the process of "cleaning" them up to meet dA's standards.

I hate self-censorship, but I do think there are many who enjoy this type of story.  Plus, the discipline of writing these without explicit sex is quite a challenge.  And as a writer, I love this kind of challenge.

Also, I found a very interesting article on stuffers!  Most who read and enjoy my works will enjoy this as well:…
  • Listening to: "Fat Man Polka"
  • Reading: Kama Sutra
  • Watching: Food Network
  • Playing: Uhm, playing with what, oh, no, not that!
  • Eating: Eclairs
  • Drinking: Cinnamon-flavored coffee.

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giggles3 Featured By Owner 2 days ago  Student Artist
Thanks for the fave.
cariacia Featured By Owner 3 days ago   General Artist
Wow, thanks for the watch and all the faves! Llama Emoji-02 (Blush) [V1]
fetishesiguess Featured By Owner 4 days ago  New member
Thanks for the watch (:
singing-octopus Featured By Owner 6 days ago
thanks for watching!
JutsuGal1208 Featured By Owner Nov 13, 2014
THX 4 TEH 2 FAVZ!!! :woohoo: :hug: :iconiamhappyplz:
spotlightdream Featured By Owner Nov 12, 2014
Thank you for the fave :)
Beathebrat Featured By Owner Nov 8, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
Thanks for the faves:rose:
RyanLinsley Featured By Owner Nov 5, 2014  New member Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the watch!
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