(~~WG, ~BBW, Magic, Eating, mild dom)
[Authors Note](Hi! This is my first story post to the site, I suppose. Enjoy and tell me what you think! I'll write more within this story if people want it. Plot holes in the beginning are there for a reason.)
There was candy everywhere. Wrapped, unwrapped, chocolate, fruity-- all kinds, strewn around the room. It was bizarre, like a dream, almost. Cynthia stared at it, unbelieving, from her doorway.
She figured it was some sort of gift. Sitting at her desk, she brushed the assorted sweets to one side to make room for her work, and then began to write. Idly, she grabbed a few of the round chocolates that were to her left. She snacked as she wrote, not really paying attention to the quickly depleting pile at her side.
She finished the paper and came out of her trance, noticing the alarming lack of candy on the desk. She felt bloated, and a bit sick, but still kind of craved sugar.
Cynthia looked down. Her clothes were a bit uncomfortable. Not tight, just... different. She decided not to eat any more candy and started the next paper.
One paper later, there was a definite lack of sweets around the desk. She came out of her writing induced haze and tasted the sugar on her lips. Looking down, her pants definitely seemed to be straining.
Abruptly, she stood up from her chair, causing a small flurry of wrappers. There was a jiggle when she moved. Her pants were uncomfortably tight. Her mouth tasted sickly sweet, and her stomach weighted with syrup.
She left her room and went into the kitchen, where she tried to wash out the taste with water. It didn't seem to help. She sat on the couch and tried to get a hold of herself. She had never eaten mindlessly like that before... then again, her room had never been stuffed with candy. She noticed that she was feeling much better than before; hungry, she noted with worry.
A cheese stick would help, she thought. They're healthy. Just a cheese stick, as she opened the fridge. Or two and some crackers and artichoke dip. Healthy, no problem.
She sat on the couch in silence and slowly ate it all. It helped, but she was back to craving chocolate again. Her stomach definitely had become pudgier, and was sticking up over her waistband. It felt like a big rubber ball.
She groaned and went back upstairs, feeling sleepy. She decided that she would eat nothing more, and instead just go to sleep.
She almost managed that, downing a handful of M&M's before crawling under her covers. She dreamed of drowning in the ocean, causing her to wake up with a shriek as her lungs collapsed with water. She sat against the wall until she steadied her breathing, then saw the melted chocolate running down her hand. She tentatively touched her face with her clean hand. It came back with her fingers looking like they had been dipped in fondant.
In a fit of panic, she fled to the bathroom and leaned up against the mirror. Her mouth was covered with semi-solidified chocolate, while her hand had a few rivulets of what were probably melted M&Ms in it. Cynthia simply stared at her reflection for a few moments, and then broke down into a fit of hysterical laughter. Nothing made any sense. Who would send her all of this candy? Why was she so weak? Why did she not remember having changed into these pajamas?
The sudden onrush of giddiness turned into abject terror, and she fell against the sink, crying. She felt like throwing up, but could only dry heave. Her stomach felt empty, and was considerably softer than the day before. She just couldn't understand what was going on, or why her, or if this was even really such a bad thing--
Weeping, she huddled in the corner of the bathroom with her arms wrapped around her knees. Before falling asleep, she decided that maybe she just needed to get out of the house. She was too stressed from college, and the homework was getting to her. That must be it. It didn't answer all the questions, but it was close enough for her.
She dreamed of floods.
---
She woke up with the morning sun streaming in through her bedroom window--
--her bedroom window--
She froze as she realized she was tucked into her bed instead of in the corner of the bathroom. The chocolate was washed off of her hand, and her face felt clean. Her sheets had even been changed.
"No," she said aloud. "No, no, no, no, no, nope, nope." She repeated this to herself under her breath as she changed into her normal clothes and quickly left her house.
Once she had calmed down, she went to the mall to kill some time. She felt like she was starving, so she bought a Subway and a smoothie. She sat in the food court and watched the other shoppers. She was pleasantly surprised when she felt full before completing her hoagie. She tossed it and the last of the smoothie into the trash, then continued to sit and think for a while.
What was wrong with her? Or was it something wrong with her room? Her kitchen? Her normal food? Her house? Was she hallucinating? Was it some sort of prank?
The last one, at least, she could debunk. She was rather introverted and didn't have any friends that would be willing to spend the obscene amount of money needed for all of that food. Then there were the things that had happened that she herself would not have been able to do, unless she had sleepwalked or had lost her memory of doing so.
All of these questions were stressing her out. She decided to go shop for clothes, or whatever would get her mind off of things. That was the point of the trip, after all.
Some shoes and a new video game later, Cynthia returned to her house in a much better mood than before. She practically ran up the stairs, not really noticing how her thighs tended to pinch in her jeans when her legs bent. Her mood left her, though, when she entered her room. Perhaps playing the game in here was not the best of ideas.
She ran the shopping bag back downstairs, and then got to work disconnecting the console from the television. She would have to make do using the tiny TV down in the kitchen.
She reconnected the console to the television on the kitchen counter, and then grabbed a stool and a controller. She went to plug in the controller and noticed a rather conveniently placed bag of chips that hadn't been there, had it? Oh well. Play the game.
Cynthia rather enjoyed the game, though it had a pretty standard storyline. The combat system was a nice change from what she usually played. The bag of chips slowly emptied.
On a particularly difficult level, her character kept getting pushed off of the cliff of a river canyon. She sighed as the life counter reached zero and the "GAME OVER" screen popped up. It was getting late, so she went to turn off the console and noticed how greasy her controller looked.
She averted her eyes from the controller and looked instead at the empty chip bag. It wasn't a small, vending machine bag, she thought. It was the large kind of a cheap brand that would probably contain enough oil to power a small car.
She crumpled up the bag and threw it in the general direction of the garbage, then turned off the television and walked directly to the little couch on the other side of the room. There was no way she would sleep in her room tonight.
She fell asleep scrunched up on one end of the couch, acutely aware of how her knees pressed into her soft stomach.
---
She dreamed of rain, endless rain. Thousands of tiny drops turning into a tidal wave, completely unstoppable. She could see herself in the water.
---
She rubbed her eyes blearily and looked around. Still on the couch, thank God. And a nice cup of coffee with whipped cream on the table. How considerate.
She silently stormed over to the counter and dumped the coffee down the sink, then tossed the styrofoam cup in the garbage. And that gave her an idea.
She could easily solve the problem. She could just throw it all away.
She grinned, almost maniacally, and started to run to the steps, but quickly ran out of breath. This junk food thing really had to stop, she thought, as she felt her gut shift against her legs as she went up the stairs with garbage bag in her hand.
The cleanup was much easier than she thought it would be. She kept herself from sneaking any pieces. Soon, the bag was half-full, and her room was empty.
She went back downstairs and dumped the candy in with the rest of the garbage. Thank goodness that's over with, she thought.
--
A few days passed, and Cynthia was feeling much better. Nothing strange had happened, and she had finished her assignments. Break was coming up soon, which she was very happy about.
The only thing that bothered her was her newly found weight. She had weighed a relatively healthy 140 pounds before at 5'8" in height, but had shot up to 160. Her appetite was a bit bigger than before, and she suspected that her metabolism had slowed. And she didn't have much time to exercise. The professors were really piling on the work in order to get everything done before break.
---
Vacation began, and there was much rejoicing. Cynthia finally got in touch with a few of her friends, and they went out for a night downtown. No one commented on the weight she had gained, and she was grateful for that. She didn't have many friends, but at least the ones she had had tact.
She came home rather late, feeling elated but exhausted. She crashed on the couch.
She was too tired to dream, and woke up about an hour later anyways. The house was dead silent. She checked the time on her phone. 3:15. She didn't feel tired at all, just--
Oh goodness. Please. Not again.
But didn't I miss it? Wasn't I lonely? I can fill myself up.
Oh my Goodness who are you get out of my head get out of my head get out of my
Aren't I hungry? I haven't eaten in a while, she thought, lurching off of the couch. I didn't really appreciate my gift.
She stood in front of the garbage can. The contents were about four days old. There was food, then her gift, then older food. She needed her gift.
---
Cynthia woke up crying over the sink in her bathroom. Her stomach felt painfully swollen, and it popped out of her tight shirt.
She tried to vomit, but again came up with nothing.
What the hell just happened?
I'm not confused; I can show myself exactly what had happened.
Her stomach distended, stretched to a length that should not be humanly possible as she continued to cram food into her mouth, candy and garbage, as her digestive system worked overtime to convert what she was taking in. Her stomach inflated like a balloon, pushing her elbows out. The top stayed hard and rounded as the bottom softened and rolled into the gut that was steadily covering her legs and the ground. Her thighs thickened until they pressed against each other, despite how they were pushed as far away from each other as possible by her stomach.
The calves and ankles became indistinguishable. Her breasts overflowed her bra, squished together by her wobbling arms. Her behind kept her tailbone from being hurt on the floor. Her sides gained rolls that shifted over each other as she reached for the trashcan, rocking back and forth in a repetitive motion.
Cynthia came back to her self, disbelief etched on to her face. I couldn't have done that. No way.
But she knew that it was true when she lifted her head from the sink and saw her bloated form in the mirror. Her skin looked smooth, almost rubbery. Her breasts were round and perky, straining the tight top that had been forced upwards by her belly. She looked pregnant, with triplets. The rolls on her sides and her gut were almost like little innertubes stacked on top of each other.
She cautiously turned to the side and saw her behind jut out like two balloons attached to her hips.
Her legs and arms were in a similar state, inflated to the point where they hardly looked like limbs anymore.
She cautiously poked her stomach and her finger sank into it like it was full of pudding. She removed her hand, and it flowed back to its original shape.
Cynthia shivered. This isn't natural, she thought. I didn't eat nearly enough to cause this kind of gain, and my skin, my-- my insides are--
Different. I just made them different, that's all. Go to the bedroom.
Cynthia pushed herself away from the sink, falling back before regaining her balance. She had to slowly waddle back to her room, her legs practically having to flow around each other. By the time she reached her bed, she was exhausted.
She looked down at herself in disgust and fear.
But don't I like it?
Her hand pressed against her stomach; soft at first, then hard enough to envelop her fingers.
Oh get out of my head
Her hand trembled as she pulled it back from her stomach, where its indent remained for a few moments before fading away.
Don't I just look lovely with it on?
She squeezed her breasts and --oh god-- her back arched with a sudden electric feel. She gasped, and, thoughts obscured by the sudden arousal, continued massaging them on her own.
Her hands stopped against her will, and she felt almost disappointed.
No, I shouldn't be upset. I can do better.
Her hand traveled downward-- past her still-jiggling breasts, past her abdomen.
A few panicked thoughts passed through the haze. No, please don't--
But I enjoy it.
no please no
She made contact with herself, and it was one of the most sensual things she had ever felt. It parted like putty under her fingers, and --no-- she couldn't believe how good, how right it was. It felt unreal. Her back arched again, and again, and her whole being -i said no- trembled with happiness and anticipation as she reached her peak.
I SAID NO, she screamed, inside of her head. Her slick hand flopped on to the bed beside her.
You enjoyed it, thought the thing inside her head.
You didn't ask me to, she thought back.
There was utter silence in her mind for a few moments, and her body suddenly became thicker and denser. It pressed her into the mattress, pinning her down.
Why would I? it asked, almost sounding offended.
I am not a toy to be played with, she thought at it, enraged. The fog was clearing, and she was feeling angrier than she had ever been before. I am a human being.
Human beings are toys, it corrected, sounding like an adult speaking to a child.
She could feel her breasts pressing against her chest. It was getting hard to breathe.
Why would you do this? she asked. Are you planning on... planning on eating me? Are you toying with your food?
No, it thought back, laughing mockingly.
She struggled for another explanation. Do you get off from it?
This time, it laughed for a long while. It sounded hoarse, and it hurt to hear it.
What a horrendously stereotypical answer. Try again.
She was struggling for oxygen, now. Little spots would appear in her vision and pop. Like raindrops hitting the ground, she thought.
Then why?
There was a long pause.
Why not? it answered, as she lost consciousness.
---
She dreamed of rivers, and pools, and oceans. Of swamps, and snow, and rain. She consumed and flowed. She expanded and touched. She drowned, but the water was tired of this game and threw her back to shore.
She woke up with a start. Her body had returned to its original slightly pudgy shape. She poked her stomach, and it reacted normally. Still suspicious, she got out of bed and went downstairs to the kitchen.
There was a huge mess around the garbage can. She nearly collapsed at the sight of it. So it really was real.
She gathered herself and decided she would clean it up later. She had a break to enjoy first.
She was about to go upstairs to get dressed when she noticed a small basket on the counter. It had a chocolate bar, a pack of Skittles, and a typed note.
She took the note and read it.
I am tired of this game for now.
Maybe again some other time.
You are fun.
She placed the note inside the basket, then took the basket and carried it outside. The basket was then disposed of in the closest dumpster. She stood there for a few moments, feeling accomplished.
She returned to her house when she realized that she still hadn't changed out of her pajamas.
[Authors Note](Hi! This is my first story post to the site, I suppose. Enjoy and tell me what you think! I'll write more within this story if people want it. Plot holes in the beginning are there for a reason.)
Not Drowning
By Polsupah
By Polsupah
There was candy everywhere. Wrapped, unwrapped, chocolate, fruity-- all kinds, strewn around the room. It was bizarre, like a dream, almost. Cynthia stared at it, unbelieving, from her doorway.
She figured it was some sort of gift. Sitting at her desk, she brushed the assorted sweets to one side to make room for her work, and then began to write. Idly, she grabbed a few of the round chocolates that were to her left. She snacked as she wrote, not really paying attention to the quickly depleting pile at her side.
She finished the paper and came out of her trance, noticing the alarming lack of candy on the desk. She felt bloated, and a bit sick, but still kind of craved sugar.
Cynthia looked down. Her clothes were a bit uncomfortable. Not tight, just... different. She decided not to eat any more candy and started the next paper.
One paper later, there was a definite lack of sweets around the desk. She came out of her writing induced haze and tasted the sugar on her lips. Looking down, her pants definitely seemed to be straining.
Abruptly, she stood up from her chair, causing a small flurry of wrappers. There was a jiggle when she moved. Her pants were uncomfortably tight. Her mouth tasted sickly sweet, and her stomach weighted with syrup.
She left her room and went into the kitchen, where she tried to wash out the taste with water. It didn't seem to help. She sat on the couch and tried to get a hold of herself. She had never eaten mindlessly like that before... then again, her room had never been stuffed with candy. She noticed that she was feeling much better than before; hungry, she noted with worry.
A cheese stick would help, she thought. They're healthy. Just a cheese stick, as she opened the fridge. Or two and some crackers and artichoke dip. Healthy, no problem.
She sat on the couch in silence and slowly ate it all. It helped, but she was back to craving chocolate again. Her stomach definitely had become pudgier, and was sticking up over her waistband. It felt like a big rubber ball.
She groaned and went back upstairs, feeling sleepy. She decided that she would eat nothing more, and instead just go to sleep.
She almost managed that, downing a handful of M&M's before crawling under her covers. She dreamed of drowning in the ocean, causing her to wake up with a shriek as her lungs collapsed with water. She sat against the wall until she steadied her breathing, then saw the melted chocolate running down her hand. She tentatively touched her face with her clean hand. It came back with her fingers looking like they had been dipped in fondant.
In a fit of panic, she fled to the bathroom and leaned up against the mirror. Her mouth was covered with semi-solidified chocolate, while her hand had a few rivulets of what were probably melted M&Ms in it. Cynthia simply stared at her reflection for a few moments, and then broke down into a fit of hysterical laughter. Nothing made any sense. Who would send her all of this candy? Why was she so weak? Why did she not remember having changed into these pajamas?
The sudden onrush of giddiness turned into abject terror, and she fell against the sink, crying. She felt like throwing up, but could only dry heave. Her stomach felt empty, and was considerably softer than the day before. She just couldn't understand what was going on, or why her, or if this was even really such a bad thing--
Weeping, she huddled in the corner of the bathroom with her arms wrapped around her knees. Before falling asleep, she decided that maybe she just needed to get out of the house. She was too stressed from college, and the homework was getting to her. That must be it. It didn't answer all the questions, but it was close enough for her.
She dreamed of floods.
---
She woke up with the morning sun streaming in through her bedroom window--
--her bedroom window--
She froze as she realized she was tucked into her bed instead of in the corner of the bathroom. The chocolate was washed off of her hand, and her face felt clean. Her sheets had even been changed.
"No," she said aloud. "No, no, no, no, no, nope, nope." She repeated this to herself under her breath as she changed into her normal clothes and quickly left her house.
Once she had calmed down, she went to the mall to kill some time. She felt like she was starving, so she bought a Subway and a smoothie. She sat in the food court and watched the other shoppers. She was pleasantly surprised when she felt full before completing her hoagie. She tossed it and the last of the smoothie into the trash, then continued to sit and think for a while.
What was wrong with her? Or was it something wrong with her room? Her kitchen? Her normal food? Her house? Was she hallucinating? Was it some sort of prank?
The last one, at least, she could debunk. She was rather introverted and didn't have any friends that would be willing to spend the obscene amount of money needed for all of that food. Then there were the things that had happened that she herself would not have been able to do, unless she had sleepwalked or had lost her memory of doing so.
All of these questions were stressing her out. She decided to go shop for clothes, or whatever would get her mind off of things. That was the point of the trip, after all.
Some shoes and a new video game later, Cynthia returned to her house in a much better mood than before. She practically ran up the stairs, not really noticing how her thighs tended to pinch in her jeans when her legs bent. Her mood left her, though, when she entered her room. Perhaps playing the game in here was not the best of ideas.
She ran the shopping bag back downstairs, and then got to work disconnecting the console from the television. She would have to make do using the tiny TV down in the kitchen.
She reconnected the console to the television on the kitchen counter, and then grabbed a stool and a controller. She went to plug in the controller and noticed a rather conveniently placed bag of chips that hadn't been there, had it? Oh well. Play the game.
Cynthia rather enjoyed the game, though it had a pretty standard storyline. The combat system was a nice change from what she usually played. The bag of chips slowly emptied.
On a particularly difficult level, her character kept getting pushed off of the cliff of a river canyon. She sighed as the life counter reached zero and the "GAME OVER" screen popped up. It was getting late, so she went to turn off the console and noticed how greasy her controller looked.
She averted her eyes from the controller and looked instead at the empty chip bag. It wasn't a small, vending machine bag, she thought. It was the large kind of a cheap brand that would probably contain enough oil to power a small car.
She crumpled up the bag and threw it in the general direction of the garbage, then turned off the television and walked directly to the little couch on the other side of the room. There was no way she would sleep in her room tonight.
She fell asleep scrunched up on one end of the couch, acutely aware of how her knees pressed into her soft stomach.
---
She dreamed of rain, endless rain. Thousands of tiny drops turning into a tidal wave, completely unstoppable. She could see herself in the water.
---
She rubbed her eyes blearily and looked around. Still on the couch, thank God. And a nice cup of coffee with whipped cream on the table. How considerate.
She silently stormed over to the counter and dumped the coffee down the sink, then tossed the styrofoam cup in the garbage. And that gave her an idea.
She could easily solve the problem. She could just throw it all away.
She grinned, almost maniacally, and started to run to the steps, but quickly ran out of breath. This junk food thing really had to stop, she thought, as she felt her gut shift against her legs as she went up the stairs with garbage bag in her hand.
The cleanup was much easier than she thought it would be. She kept herself from sneaking any pieces. Soon, the bag was half-full, and her room was empty.
She went back downstairs and dumped the candy in with the rest of the garbage. Thank goodness that's over with, she thought.
--
A few days passed, and Cynthia was feeling much better. Nothing strange had happened, and she had finished her assignments. Break was coming up soon, which she was very happy about.
The only thing that bothered her was her newly found weight. She had weighed a relatively healthy 140 pounds before at 5'8" in height, but had shot up to 160. Her appetite was a bit bigger than before, and she suspected that her metabolism had slowed. And she didn't have much time to exercise. The professors were really piling on the work in order to get everything done before break.
---
Vacation began, and there was much rejoicing. Cynthia finally got in touch with a few of her friends, and they went out for a night downtown. No one commented on the weight she had gained, and she was grateful for that. She didn't have many friends, but at least the ones she had had tact.
She came home rather late, feeling elated but exhausted. She crashed on the couch.
She was too tired to dream, and woke up about an hour later anyways. The house was dead silent. She checked the time on her phone. 3:15. She didn't feel tired at all, just--
Oh goodness. Please. Not again.
But didn't I miss it? Wasn't I lonely? I can fill myself up.
Oh my Goodness who are you get out of my head get out of my head get out of my
Aren't I hungry? I haven't eaten in a while, she thought, lurching off of the couch. I didn't really appreciate my gift.
She stood in front of the garbage can. The contents were about four days old. There was food, then her gift, then older food. She needed her gift.
---
Cynthia woke up crying over the sink in her bathroom. Her stomach felt painfully swollen, and it popped out of her tight shirt.
She tried to vomit, but again came up with nothing.
What the hell just happened?
I'm not confused; I can show myself exactly what had happened.
Her stomach distended, stretched to a length that should not be humanly possible as she continued to cram food into her mouth, candy and garbage, as her digestive system worked overtime to convert what she was taking in. Her stomach inflated like a balloon, pushing her elbows out. The top stayed hard and rounded as the bottom softened and rolled into the gut that was steadily covering her legs and the ground. Her thighs thickened until they pressed against each other, despite how they were pushed as far away from each other as possible by her stomach.
The calves and ankles became indistinguishable. Her breasts overflowed her bra, squished together by her wobbling arms. Her behind kept her tailbone from being hurt on the floor. Her sides gained rolls that shifted over each other as she reached for the trashcan, rocking back and forth in a repetitive motion.
Cynthia came back to her self, disbelief etched on to her face. I couldn't have done that. No way.
But she knew that it was true when she lifted her head from the sink and saw her bloated form in the mirror. Her skin looked smooth, almost rubbery. Her breasts were round and perky, straining the tight top that had been forced upwards by her belly. She looked pregnant, with triplets. The rolls on her sides and her gut were almost like little innertubes stacked on top of each other.
She cautiously turned to the side and saw her behind jut out like two balloons attached to her hips.
Her legs and arms were in a similar state, inflated to the point where they hardly looked like limbs anymore.
She cautiously poked her stomach and her finger sank into it like it was full of pudding. She removed her hand, and it flowed back to its original shape.
Cynthia shivered. This isn't natural, she thought. I didn't eat nearly enough to cause this kind of gain, and my skin, my-- my insides are--
Different. I just made them different, that's all. Go to the bedroom.
Cynthia pushed herself away from the sink, falling back before regaining her balance. She had to slowly waddle back to her room, her legs practically having to flow around each other. By the time she reached her bed, she was exhausted.
She looked down at herself in disgust and fear.
But don't I like it?
Her hand pressed against her stomach; soft at first, then hard enough to envelop her fingers.
Oh get out of my head
Her hand trembled as she pulled it back from her stomach, where its indent remained for a few moments before fading away.
Don't I just look lovely with it on?
She squeezed her breasts and --oh god-- her back arched with a sudden electric feel. She gasped, and, thoughts obscured by the sudden arousal, continued massaging them on her own.
Her hands stopped against her will, and she felt almost disappointed.
No, I shouldn't be upset. I can do better.
Her hand traveled downward-- past her still-jiggling breasts, past her abdomen.
A few panicked thoughts passed through the haze. No, please don't--
But I enjoy it.
no please no
She made contact with herself, and it was one of the most sensual things she had ever felt. It parted like putty under her fingers, and --no-- she couldn't believe how good, how right it was. It felt unreal. Her back arched again, and again, and her whole being -i said no- trembled with happiness and anticipation as she reached her peak.
I SAID NO, she screamed, inside of her head. Her slick hand flopped on to the bed beside her.
You enjoyed it, thought the thing inside her head.
You didn't ask me to, she thought back.
There was utter silence in her mind for a few moments, and her body suddenly became thicker and denser. It pressed her into the mattress, pinning her down.
Why would I? it asked, almost sounding offended.
I am not a toy to be played with, she thought at it, enraged. The fog was clearing, and she was feeling angrier than she had ever been before. I am a human being.
Human beings are toys, it corrected, sounding like an adult speaking to a child.
She could feel her breasts pressing against her chest. It was getting hard to breathe.
Why would you do this? she asked. Are you planning on... planning on eating me? Are you toying with your food?
No, it thought back, laughing mockingly.
She struggled for another explanation. Do you get off from it?
This time, it laughed for a long while. It sounded hoarse, and it hurt to hear it.
What a horrendously stereotypical answer. Try again.
She was struggling for oxygen, now. Little spots would appear in her vision and pop. Like raindrops hitting the ground, she thought.
Then why?
There was a long pause.
Why not? it answered, as she lost consciousness.
---
She dreamed of rivers, and pools, and oceans. Of swamps, and snow, and rain. She consumed and flowed. She expanded and touched. She drowned, but the water was tired of this game and threw her back to shore.
She woke up with a start. Her body had returned to its original slightly pudgy shape. She poked her stomach, and it reacted normally. Still suspicious, she got out of bed and went downstairs to the kitchen.
There was a huge mess around the garbage can. She nearly collapsed at the sight of it. So it really was real.
She gathered herself and decided she would clean it up later. She had a break to enjoy first.
She was about to go upstairs to get dressed when she noticed a small basket on the counter. It had a chocolate bar, a pack of Skittles, and a typed note.
She took the note and read it.
I am tired of this game for now.
Maybe again some other time.
You are fun.
She placed the note inside the basket, then took the basket and carried it outside. The basket was then disposed of in the closest dumpster. She stood there for a few moments, feeling accomplished.
She returned to her house when she realized that she still hadn't changed out of her pajamas.
