HollyBlackwood

At long last I found them. The one set of clothes I'd been dreaming of. Since coming to terms with my...sexuality, and discovering the existence of such a wardrobe, I've wanted them. After saving up for years and searching through every online enchanted clothing store, I was at long last able to buy my own. After two weeks, they arrived at my front door. Tearing off the packaging, I laid out the fitted white long-sleeve t-shirt and snug black leggings on the bed. Eager to get started, I read over the instructions: "Slip on the clothing, making sure everything is adjusted correctly. The clothes will shape themselves to your frame and grow as

Desire (verb) - to wish or long for; crave; want What do I desire most? What do I wish upon a star for? What does my heart long for? What is it that I crave more than pizza? What is it that I am in want of? For most people, this might be a difficult question. It may take some thought - a few hours, days, weeks, even. Go on, try it. Decide on the one thing that you yearn for more than anything else you could possibly ever want. What is it? Money? Love? Power? I know my answer. I've known it since I was little. I want fat. To be fat. To love fat. To have and to hold fat. To be thick and never thin. Big and only growing bigger. Since that f

His stomach is huge. I can't take my eyes off of it. He's so skinny - at least for now - and it pours out from him like a mountainous boulder. The skin glistens not only with sweat, but with how much it has stretched to accumulate the feast. While normally pale, it now glows pink with effort. Already there are thin stretchmarks forming. Running my finger from chest to bellybutton, I feel how hard it is. Taut as a drum, refusing to give an inch when I poke it forcefully. This draws a moan from his lips; he's still mostly unconscious. Sleeping off the stuffing. He's so sweet - didn't even bother trying to remove the feeding tube. Finally learn

Full. Oh, so full. So completely overstuffed with pies, cakes, cookies, and ice cream. There's no room left, your stomach is so horribly packed tight you're surprised the skin hasn't torn. It itches, though, as if it's stretched to the limit. Maybe it is. The colossal balloon sticking out as much sideways as it bows out forwards. Pushing away from your pudgy body as though wanting to avoid another feast. Just like you do. And you would, too, if you could move anything but your mouth. You aren't strapped to the leather arm chair, but you may as well be. Leaning back into the cushions, you're pinned under the hefty weight of your belly. After