Da Games Elite
Well-Known Member
~BBW, ~MWG, Magic - A young woman is given an opportunity to see different variations of her life
[Author's Note:]After a couple years of not contributing anything, I hope I can donate this little thing I decided to start working on. ^_^ Please, criticism is more than welcome, please tell me what you think. Thank you very much.
The scale read 112 lbs.
That was a pound more than three weeks ago.
As an eighteen year old girl living in the 21st century, a single pound was enough to make her feel more than a little inadequate. In fact, the gain of any weight at all was enough to make her feel, to say the least, disgusted with herself. Here she was, Emily McNaire, standing with a single towel wrapped around her, soggy from drying the droplets of water clinging to her smooth skin. Skin wrapped around her svelte form. Here she was, a teenager, supposed to be a role model of sorts to her younger sister Erin, and here she was, putting on weight. Maybe it was the wet towel dragging her down. She dropped the towel from her side, but the weight remained the same.
She glanced over her breasts at her belly, frowning in disapproval. She patted her soft yet concave belly, feeling the flesh give beneath her fingers. "Jesus, do you have to eat so much? Couldn't you just turn off your hunger for five seconds? Really."
She glanced over at the mirror, struggling to find a difference in her appearance. Nothing had changed. Her mahogany hair still fell over her slender face in the same fashion, her relatively small breasts still remained alive and, if Emily didn't know any better, as attentive and weary as ever, and her slender arms, torso, and legs still revealed a hint of muscle tone, despite the fact that her five foot six inch body rarely worked out. She flexed her long arms up over her head before she decided to get dressed. After all, standing around naked wasn't going to do her much good with a mere twenty minutes before the bus left.
After plucking a banana from a bunch on the kitchen counter, acknowledging her mother as she tended to her sister Erin's complaining about waking up before seven, Emily darted up to her room, preparing herself for the day ahead. She threw on a white blouse, tucking it into a pair of rather fitted jeans. After pushing her rectangular glasses up her nose, she sorted through the clutter of stuff on the desk in her room, tossing aside a novel, a bunch of DVDs, an Evangelion figurine that her friend Ryoko had convinced her to get at Otakon, until she finally found the note that she had typed up the night before. She looked it over while biting into the banana, smiling slightly. Never before had finer words been written than this love note. Nathanael wouldn't know what hit him when he read it. She smiled, dreamily, as she mapped out that sweet boy's features, his angular face, his chiseled features, his broad chest, and those dreamy brown eyes that matched his hair. Oh, she just longed to hold that man to her and never relinquish her grip, to just hold on and feel his body melt into her pores--
"Emily! Bus!"
***
"So do you have it?" Ryoko asked, meeting her by the front doors, hiding behind a locker.
The teen jumped in the air in shock, clutching her chest before rounding on her friend. "You jerk! Just had to go ahead and freak me out like that, huh?"
Ryoko giggled slightly. "Sorry."
Ryoko, as her name suggested, was Japanese, a raven haired girl with cute body. She was chunkier than Emily was, but also smaller. There was a strange thing about people where, even if they were bigger than you were, you would insist that they weren't fat. For some reason, Ryoko personified that concept. After all, her convex belly seemed to be, while not big or large next to many of the girls in their school, was substantially chunkier. Her thicker arms and legs trembled when she moved, tempting Emily to just reach out and poke them.
In fact, she did so at that moment, poking Ryoko's chubby cheek.
"You need to stop. You have an addiction to poking my fat!" Ryoko snapped, a smile on her lips, her eyes glowing in amusement.
"Sorry, can't help it. You just look like a bunch of ice cream scoops on top of one another," Emily teased. This wasn't true. An ice cream scoop was round and bulbous. No, Ryoko wasn't that big.
"So do you have the note?"
Emily nodded.
Ryoko squealed in delight. "Oh my God! You're putting it in his locker today, right?"
Emily nodded.
Ryoko, once again, squealed.
The two girls went out to the locker, grins on their lips. The grins were justified. After all, how many days did you confess to your secret crush? Emily determined the locker that belonged to Nathanael's, and, a grin on her lips pushed the letter through the slot of his locker. She grinned, her teeth gleaming, as she backed away from it, her heart pounding against her chest. She couldn't wait to see his reaction to it.
But she couldn't just stalk his locker until he arrived; she needed to go to class.
All day she wondered about that letter. How was he going to respond? Was he going to say yes? Of course he was. Why wouldn't he, after all? She had trained her body to be the ideal of masculine dreams, after all. Sure, her breasts weren't big, but she wasn't fat, right? She couldn't be fat, or else guys wouldn't like her, surely. It wasn't like she had anything against fat people, quite the opposite, she felt their chub made them look cute and endearing, but only when it was on other people. An ounce of fat on her, however, was rather, to put it mildly, bad. She had to work her way down from 132 lbs to 111 lbs (no, now 112 lbs), from last year, just to fit what she felt must be every man's desire.
To put it mildly, for a girl who enjoyed sitting on her rear watching anime all day, this was not an easy feat.
Finally, it was PE. There was only one reason why she liked PE: Nathanael. She didn't care for all the physical stuff she needed to do, save for walking, but she always signed in to work in the weight room JUST to see Nathanael pump iron. He was just amazing, a God amongst men, a--
"Hey Emily!"
Emily glanced over her shoulder, recognizing the voice as someone who wasn't Nathanael. Not that it was an unwelcome guest, but at this moment, she wanted to see Nathanael, and hanging around a guy like Patrick Batemen wasn't exactly the best option to take. Like she, Patrick wore glasses, rectangular in shape, a slender boy, like her, only with messy black hair and a rather wimpy body. However, despite not being the God in the flesh, Nathanael, Emily smiled at him.
"Hiya, Patrick! What's up?"
Patrick bit his lip, anxiously, as he averted his gaze. "Hey, uh, Emily. You feeling alright?"
"Alright? Yeah, why?" Emily asked, confused. What was wrong?
"Oh, because I--uh--you know that jer--uh, guy--Nathanael?"
"Yeah, I sent him a love letter this morning," Emily said, lowering her voice to ensure no one else heard them, "Why?"
Patrick blushed slightly, before shaking his head, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know how to tell you this, uh--"
"Tell me what?" Emily asked her voice breaking. What did he know? Did he know something bad? Something horrible? Something horrendous?
"Well, he got your letter," Patrick replied.
"And?" Emily pressed her throat dry, her tongue immobile.
"He was, uh, laughing about it in the boy's locker room."
"Laughing?" Emily felt her eyes begin to water, but she couldn't cry, not now, not here. She felt her throat convulse in her neck, but she couldn't sob, not now. She felt her lip quiver, but she wouldn't cry. Not now. Not like this. Holding back her sob, she asked, feeling the pressure build up inside, "What did he say?"
"He said, uh, Emily if you want me to stop--"
"Say it, damn it!"
"Alright! He called you a stick."
"A stick?"
"Yeah. No curves, no shape. Just a stick. And then he called you a dork, and--"
"He didn't call me a dork, did he?"
"No, he didn't, but it could replace--"
"What did he really say?"
Swallowing again, Patrick glanced at his feet, ashamed. "He called you a freak."
Tears now rolled down her cheeks as Emily fell to her knees, unable to look up. "No, that can't be right," she began to sob silently to herself. She had wanted Nathanael to ask her out, to love her. That was all she wanted. She didn't have big desires, or even large ones. All she wanted was just to have that boy's lips wrap around her own. Was that asking too much? Was it...?
"Listen, Emily, do you want me to get you something? Anyone?"
Emily was silent for a moment. Finally, she said, in a soft, weak voice, "Tell the teacher I need to use the bathroom. Thanks."
***
Her mother had told her to always try washing cold water on her palms and the back of her neck when she was upset. Supposedly, it would soothe the rest of your body. As the cold water poured over her skin, she couldn't help but still feel tears roll down her cheeks. Why did she even bother giving him that stupid letter, anyway? She should've known better, right? She should've known what to expect. Boys just treated her like garbage anyway. It wasn't like anyone liked her. She had thought losing weight and being this way would make boys run, but apparently she was mistaken.
She ran her hands over her beat red face as she sobbed, her tears covering her glasses in liquid.
"Looks like you need a little help."
Emily glanced up, sniffing to herself, as she saw a girl she had never seen before appear before her. She was dressed all in black, with a black vest, a black gown, black mascara over white foundation, her black locks trailing down to reach her black gloved hands dangling by her black belts, right down to her black boots that were strapped up to her knees. She was a slender girl, lithe and almost ghostlike. Emily felt goose bumps rise along her arms and neck just by seeing this stranger.
"Who're you?"
The girl giggled, her black lips curling into an amused grin. "A Genie, one could say. Or perhaps an angel. Doesn't matter."
"What's your name?" Emily asked, in a shaky, unnerved voice. Her knees were trembling.
"Or maybe I'm a Goddess. Oh, my name? I'm Elizaberta de Letrouche Belle, or just Belle for short. Or Liz. Or even De, if you want to stretch things. But that matters very little. What you need to know, however, is that I'm here to offer you a favor."
"A favor?"
"Yup, all free of charge. We'd like for you to try, shall we say, a trial service to five different visions of the world."
"What?" Visions of the world? What was this girl babbling? She was on drugs. She had to be. After all, who the hell would dress up in that crazy get-up in the middle of spring? Wasn't she boiling in that dress? And furthermore, what did she mean by all that talk? Was she implying she had magical powers of some kind? Visions? Of another world? Alternate realities? What was she spewing from her pothole, anyway?
"Tell me, Miss McNaire, and yes I know what your name is, what is your deepest desire? To get Nathanael?"
Emily didn't bother asking how she knew her name. Probably asked around, or was stalking her. Yeah, a stalker. There was a hotline for people like her. Nevertheless, fear compelled her to nod.
"So, for each vision, we will adapt reality so that you may be able to see the world from a different lens. Seeing as how Nathanael saw you as, shall we say, unfit for him, do you wish to be his ideal woman physically or mentally?"
Emily was about to say both when something her mother said rang out in her ear, something about never changing your personality for another man. Physically would have to do. "Physically."
After all, this was just stupid crap anyway, right?
"Alright, your wish is my command. I guess we need to get the balls going, so, if you don't mind, we might as well start...now!" The gothic Lolita darted forward at a blinding speed. Before Emily could so much as flinch, the girl slammed her knuckles across her chin, throwing her against the wall. She bounced back, her head spinning, before she fell against the floor, the world fading to black. The last thing she saw was the girl's feet leave the ground as she levitated in the air, enveloped by a silver aura, and then all was dark.
A Change in Perspective
by Da Games Elite
by Da Games Elite
[Author's Note:]After a couple years of not contributing anything, I hope I can donate this little thing I decided to start working on. ^_^ Please, criticism is more than welcome, please tell me what you think. Thank you very much.
PART ONE - REALITY
The scale read 112 lbs.
That was a pound more than three weeks ago.
As an eighteen year old girl living in the 21st century, a single pound was enough to make her feel more than a little inadequate. In fact, the gain of any weight at all was enough to make her feel, to say the least, disgusted with herself. Here she was, Emily McNaire, standing with a single towel wrapped around her, soggy from drying the droplets of water clinging to her smooth skin. Skin wrapped around her svelte form. Here she was, a teenager, supposed to be a role model of sorts to her younger sister Erin, and here she was, putting on weight. Maybe it was the wet towel dragging her down. She dropped the towel from her side, but the weight remained the same.
She glanced over her breasts at her belly, frowning in disapproval. She patted her soft yet concave belly, feeling the flesh give beneath her fingers. "Jesus, do you have to eat so much? Couldn't you just turn off your hunger for five seconds? Really."
She glanced over at the mirror, struggling to find a difference in her appearance. Nothing had changed. Her mahogany hair still fell over her slender face in the same fashion, her relatively small breasts still remained alive and, if Emily didn't know any better, as attentive and weary as ever, and her slender arms, torso, and legs still revealed a hint of muscle tone, despite the fact that her five foot six inch body rarely worked out. She flexed her long arms up over her head before she decided to get dressed. After all, standing around naked wasn't going to do her much good with a mere twenty minutes before the bus left.
After plucking a banana from a bunch on the kitchen counter, acknowledging her mother as she tended to her sister Erin's complaining about waking up before seven, Emily darted up to her room, preparing herself for the day ahead. She threw on a white blouse, tucking it into a pair of rather fitted jeans. After pushing her rectangular glasses up her nose, she sorted through the clutter of stuff on the desk in her room, tossing aside a novel, a bunch of DVDs, an Evangelion figurine that her friend Ryoko had convinced her to get at Otakon, until she finally found the note that she had typed up the night before. She looked it over while biting into the banana, smiling slightly. Never before had finer words been written than this love note. Nathanael wouldn't know what hit him when he read it. She smiled, dreamily, as she mapped out that sweet boy's features, his angular face, his chiseled features, his broad chest, and those dreamy brown eyes that matched his hair. Oh, she just longed to hold that man to her and never relinquish her grip, to just hold on and feel his body melt into her pores--
"Emily! Bus!"
***
"So do you have it?" Ryoko asked, meeting her by the front doors, hiding behind a locker.
The teen jumped in the air in shock, clutching her chest before rounding on her friend. "You jerk! Just had to go ahead and freak me out like that, huh?"
Ryoko giggled slightly. "Sorry."
Ryoko, as her name suggested, was Japanese, a raven haired girl with cute body. She was chunkier than Emily was, but also smaller. There was a strange thing about people where, even if they were bigger than you were, you would insist that they weren't fat. For some reason, Ryoko personified that concept. After all, her convex belly seemed to be, while not big or large next to many of the girls in their school, was substantially chunkier. Her thicker arms and legs trembled when she moved, tempting Emily to just reach out and poke them.
In fact, she did so at that moment, poking Ryoko's chubby cheek.
"You need to stop. You have an addiction to poking my fat!" Ryoko snapped, a smile on her lips, her eyes glowing in amusement.
"Sorry, can't help it. You just look like a bunch of ice cream scoops on top of one another," Emily teased. This wasn't true. An ice cream scoop was round and bulbous. No, Ryoko wasn't that big.
"So do you have the note?"
Emily nodded.
Ryoko squealed in delight. "Oh my God! You're putting it in his locker today, right?"
Emily nodded.
Ryoko, once again, squealed.
The two girls went out to the locker, grins on their lips. The grins were justified. After all, how many days did you confess to your secret crush? Emily determined the locker that belonged to Nathanael's, and, a grin on her lips pushed the letter through the slot of his locker. She grinned, her teeth gleaming, as she backed away from it, her heart pounding against her chest. She couldn't wait to see his reaction to it.
But she couldn't just stalk his locker until he arrived; she needed to go to class.
All day she wondered about that letter. How was he going to respond? Was he going to say yes? Of course he was. Why wouldn't he, after all? She had trained her body to be the ideal of masculine dreams, after all. Sure, her breasts weren't big, but she wasn't fat, right? She couldn't be fat, or else guys wouldn't like her, surely. It wasn't like she had anything against fat people, quite the opposite, she felt their chub made them look cute and endearing, but only when it was on other people. An ounce of fat on her, however, was rather, to put it mildly, bad. She had to work her way down from 132 lbs to 111 lbs (no, now 112 lbs), from last year, just to fit what she felt must be every man's desire.
To put it mildly, for a girl who enjoyed sitting on her rear watching anime all day, this was not an easy feat.
Finally, it was PE. There was only one reason why she liked PE: Nathanael. She didn't care for all the physical stuff she needed to do, save for walking, but she always signed in to work in the weight room JUST to see Nathanael pump iron. He was just amazing, a God amongst men, a--
"Hey Emily!"
Emily glanced over her shoulder, recognizing the voice as someone who wasn't Nathanael. Not that it was an unwelcome guest, but at this moment, she wanted to see Nathanael, and hanging around a guy like Patrick Batemen wasn't exactly the best option to take. Like she, Patrick wore glasses, rectangular in shape, a slender boy, like her, only with messy black hair and a rather wimpy body. However, despite not being the God in the flesh, Nathanael, Emily smiled at him.
"Hiya, Patrick! What's up?"
Patrick bit his lip, anxiously, as he averted his gaze. "Hey, uh, Emily. You feeling alright?"
"Alright? Yeah, why?" Emily asked, confused. What was wrong?
"Oh, because I--uh--you know that jer--uh, guy--Nathanael?"
"Yeah, I sent him a love letter this morning," Emily said, lowering her voice to ensure no one else heard them, "Why?"
Patrick blushed slightly, before shaking his head, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know how to tell you this, uh--"
"Tell me what?" Emily asked her voice breaking. What did he know? Did he know something bad? Something horrible? Something horrendous?
"Well, he got your letter," Patrick replied.
"And?" Emily pressed her throat dry, her tongue immobile.
"He was, uh, laughing about it in the boy's locker room."
"Laughing?" Emily felt her eyes begin to water, but she couldn't cry, not now, not here. She felt her throat convulse in her neck, but she couldn't sob, not now. She felt her lip quiver, but she wouldn't cry. Not now. Not like this. Holding back her sob, she asked, feeling the pressure build up inside, "What did he say?"
"He said, uh, Emily if you want me to stop--"
"Say it, damn it!"
"Alright! He called you a stick."
"A stick?"
"Yeah. No curves, no shape. Just a stick. And then he called you a dork, and--"
"He didn't call me a dork, did he?"
"No, he didn't, but it could replace--"
"What did he really say?"
Swallowing again, Patrick glanced at his feet, ashamed. "He called you a freak."
Tears now rolled down her cheeks as Emily fell to her knees, unable to look up. "No, that can't be right," she began to sob silently to herself. She had wanted Nathanael to ask her out, to love her. That was all she wanted. She didn't have big desires, or even large ones. All she wanted was just to have that boy's lips wrap around her own. Was that asking too much? Was it...?
"Listen, Emily, do you want me to get you something? Anyone?"
Emily was silent for a moment. Finally, she said, in a soft, weak voice, "Tell the teacher I need to use the bathroom. Thanks."
***
Her mother had told her to always try washing cold water on her palms and the back of her neck when she was upset. Supposedly, it would soothe the rest of your body. As the cold water poured over her skin, she couldn't help but still feel tears roll down her cheeks. Why did she even bother giving him that stupid letter, anyway? She should've known better, right? She should've known what to expect. Boys just treated her like garbage anyway. It wasn't like anyone liked her. She had thought losing weight and being this way would make boys run, but apparently she was mistaken.
She ran her hands over her beat red face as she sobbed, her tears covering her glasses in liquid.
"Looks like you need a little help."
Emily glanced up, sniffing to herself, as she saw a girl she had never seen before appear before her. She was dressed all in black, with a black vest, a black gown, black mascara over white foundation, her black locks trailing down to reach her black gloved hands dangling by her black belts, right down to her black boots that were strapped up to her knees. She was a slender girl, lithe and almost ghostlike. Emily felt goose bumps rise along her arms and neck just by seeing this stranger.
"Who're you?"
The girl giggled, her black lips curling into an amused grin. "A Genie, one could say. Or perhaps an angel. Doesn't matter."
"What's your name?" Emily asked, in a shaky, unnerved voice. Her knees were trembling.
"Or maybe I'm a Goddess. Oh, my name? I'm Elizaberta de Letrouche Belle, or just Belle for short. Or Liz. Or even De, if you want to stretch things. But that matters very little. What you need to know, however, is that I'm here to offer you a favor."
"A favor?"
"Yup, all free of charge. We'd like for you to try, shall we say, a trial service to five different visions of the world."
"What?" Visions of the world? What was this girl babbling? She was on drugs. She had to be. After all, who the hell would dress up in that crazy get-up in the middle of spring? Wasn't she boiling in that dress? And furthermore, what did she mean by all that talk? Was she implying she had magical powers of some kind? Visions? Of another world? Alternate realities? What was she spewing from her pothole, anyway?
"Tell me, Miss McNaire, and yes I know what your name is, what is your deepest desire? To get Nathanael?"
Emily didn't bother asking how she knew her name. Probably asked around, or was stalking her. Yeah, a stalker. There was a hotline for people like her. Nevertheless, fear compelled her to nod.
"So, for each vision, we will adapt reality so that you may be able to see the world from a different lens. Seeing as how Nathanael saw you as, shall we say, unfit for him, do you wish to be his ideal woman physically or mentally?"
Emily was about to say both when something her mother said rang out in her ear, something about never changing your personality for another man. Physically would have to do. "Physically."
After all, this was just stupid crap anyway, right?
"Alright, your wish is my command. I guess we need to get the balls going, so, if you don't mind, we might as well start...now!" The gothic Lolita darted forward at a blinding speed. Before Emily could so much as flinch, the girl slammed her knuckles across her chin, throwing her against the wall. She bounced back, her head spinning, before she fell against the floor, the world fading to black. The last thing she saw was the girl's feet leave the ground as she levitated in the air, enveloped by a silver aura, and then all was dark.
