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The Thin College

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Nice to see some real depth to the characters. (It'll go well with their future width! )  Zoltan especially was a surprise... a pleasant one at that.

Great subtle hints at the first minor gains.  The automatic or unconscious? act of adjusting suddenly too tight clothes has always been a favorite of mine.

Thanks for all your work.  It is greatly appreciated.

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9 hours ago, swahilimonkfish said:

Wow, this story is hurtling along. Intrigue, doubt, the large cast of characters and Zoltan, this story has it all

The over-arching question, however, is how Justin's going to screw it up? 

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5 hours ago, greinskyn said:

Nice to see some real depth to the characters. (It'll go well with their future width! )  Zoltan especially was a surprise... a pleasant one at that.

Great subtle hints at the first minor gains.  The automatic or unconscious? act of adjusting suddenly too tight clothes has always been a favorite of mine.

Thanks for all your work.  It is greatly appreciated.

Zoltan's got more surprises, I'm sure of it.

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23 minutes ago, Batman76 said:

I feel bad for Emily honestly.

I literally wrote a reply three times and backspaced them all because I really want to reply, but don't know how to do it without spoiling the story or accidentally hinting what will happen next 😖

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A brief stint into kinky-philosophy here...

Chapter Fifteen

               A thunderstorm rolled over the island that night. Again and again, with all the futility of a madman, the sea’s white froth rose like fangs to bite and break against the beaches as thunder rolled unseen through a turbulent, black sky. Molluscs, barnacles, hermit crabs, and students alike withdrew from the pounding rain to dry shelters, and I, Jason Alban, leaned against the backrest of my chair to stare in wonder at how the water trickling down my dorm room’s window distorted the flashes of lightning in the distance.

               Frowning slightly, I twisted my torso around to glance at my laptop, still in the process of installing Skype. It wasn’t a program I’d ever used before, but I knew what it was. It wasn’t a big program either, so it shouldn’t be too hard to handle.

               The installation bar reached 100% before spasming back and forth, completing the last finishing touches before opening properly, prompting me to set up a free account. Fortunately, most of the steps were skippable, a fact that made me nod with satisfaction as the room’s walls flashed from the light of another lightning strike.

               Sucky wanted to chat with me again, that much was certain, but besides that, anything could happen. I’d only ever seen her twice, each meeting raising far more questions than they answered, and the last meeting had nearly wrecked my career and broken my heart. I shuddered at the sound of the wailing winds, reminiscent of Emily’s voice chasing me through the thorny underbrush that fateful Saturday morning. At least Sucky wasn’t physically here this time…

               I finished my account without even bothering with a profile picture or location. A heartbeat later, the screen turned blue and I heard a strange ringing. She was calling me.

               “Damn,” I rubbed my eyes. It was as if she knew my every move. As disturbing as that was, what was I going to do? Not reply? On that note, I swallowed my fear and clicked the screen.

               My screen went black. Confused, I leaned closer, hearing the faint sound of heavy breathing. Then I saw a double-row of blinding, white teeth spread into a grin from the lower corner of the screen. Was she leaning her face into the camera?

               She was, and as she withdrew her face to reveal neon-pink eyes, I gasped with the realization that it was Zoltan. She sat behind a desk in what looked like her bedroom, arching her back and sweeping her hair behind her shoulders as her breath made her chest press the fabric of her tracksuit.

               “Hey babe,” her voice smouldered like trailing smoke. She must have noticed my growing sense of alarm, for she cocked her head and chuckled like a purring lioness. “Yes, it’s me Jason.”

               “Sucky?” I asked with a ragged breath.

               “In the flesh,” she seized the table with widespread arms, craning her neck and staring down at me.

A tense moment passed as we stared at each other. It was a moment that went uncounted and timeless, enthralling me into something like a state of shock. Sucky hung her head down with an eager grin, revelling in the trance she had put me in, and slowly stood erect. With two steady hands, she reached for the zipper of her tracksuit by her neck and plucked it daintily between long fingers.

“Look at me Jason,” she said softly as she tugged the zipper down. Her tracksuit parted like curtains. Two plush breasts spilled out like tropical fruit, oozing against the confines of maroon cups. I shivered at the sight of their jiggling flesh, as she spread her fingers across their breadth and leaned closer.

“They’re fattening up nicely,” she purred as she squeezed them together softly. “Don’t you think?”

I shook myself and refocused my thoughts. “Wait…”

“They’re a bit overwhelming, aren’t they?” her hands raked around her torso and unclasped the bra, letting her breasts bounce loosely. “Don’t worry baby; I’m here for you. Just sit there and watch me…”

“That’s not yours!” I stammered. “That’s… they’re not yours.”

She paused just as she was beginning to sway, and looked at me with big, doe eyes. A short burst of laughter escaped her lips, as she looked down on her naked form before looking back at me. Her dark nipples stared back too, captivating beyond explanation. My gaze darted nervously between them and her face, torn between lust and logic.

Slowly, Sucky smiled, eyes glittering lustrously as her hands traced her smooth form until the fingers were tapping the nipples delicately. “Don’t be scared; let me take care of you.”

“But wait a second,” I held a faltering hand in front of the screen. “This is wrong – very wrong – because that’s not your body. It’s Zoltan’s body…”

As I paused to reign my thoughts together, Sucky sat down in her seat again, letting her engorged breasts rest on top of the cool wood of the table. Propping her head against one arm, she leaned closer with shining eyes like a schoolgirl hearing a love letter read aloud. Her breasts rippled with goosebumbs, and her nipples hardened. It took all my willpower not to stare at them longer than one second at a time.

“… and Zoltan wouldn’t want this done to her – I don’t think she would. She can’t because she’s a faculty member and our… we can’t fall in love because that would get her fired and I don’t want that to happen… I like her. Zoltan. I adore her. If anything bad happened to her, I’d never forgive myself. And I respect her body… so that’s why we – you shouldn’t possess her.”

“That’s so sweet,” Zoltan sighed happily. “Do you like me?” She leaned closer, crossing her arms around her breasts to squeeze them in front of me.

I swallowed. “Yes,” I said quietly.

“Do you… love me?” she rose from her seat and slinked closer to the screen like a prowling cat.

Sucky had helped me when no one else would, didn’t she? I almost said yes, but something stopped the word in my throat; I could only nod.

Do you?” Sucky leered lustfully in front of the camera. Her muscular navel was just in sight past her wobbling breasts. With a forceful breath, she let loose her abs to let the faintest hints of a soft belly hang.

“…yes,” I whispered.

Only the corner of her mouth was visible, but I could tell that she was beaming. “Good. I love you too.”

“You do?”

She withdrew from the camera to stand again. This time, as I watched her turn her back to me, I didn’t stop her. Her tracksuit bottoms were still resting over her wide hips, but now she was sliding them past soft, pliable cheeks that wobbled as she moved. I stared transfixed at round, hardened glutes that had begun to pad themselves with fat that creased over oozing thighs like teardrops.

“But do you know who doesn’t love you?” Sucky asked as she slid her fingers through the creases and made her lower half wobble. “Zoltan.”

“She doesn’t… I mean, she’s not supposed to,” I said as my eyes widened.

“Do you remember the nice email Mary sent to the Dean?” Sucky watched me from over her shoulder and gave her ass a shake. “The one where she says you stalked her from the Equine Club to the Cheerleader PE session? She asked this woman,” she smacked her cheek for emphasis. “To let her use her office computer to write it. Mary wrote the whole thing as Zoltan stood behind her… watching.”

I leaned back in my seat, horrified. Why the hell would Zoltan do this to me? Why wouldn’t she ask me what really happened?

“She’s using you, babe,” Sucky twisted around, making the skin around her waist fold slightly. “She wants to keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t do anything rash. She thinks you’re a socially-awkward psychopath. But hey…” she turned to the side, thighs shaking, and gave the slight bulge of her tummy a pat. “She’s coming along nicely, thanks to you.”

“But,” I gulped. “Why do all this? Why is the goal to make everyone as fat as possible?”

She faced me again, kneading the half-inch of pudge growing around her abs. “Why do you breathe? Why does sex feel so good? Not everything is explained by logic. Logic is the slave of your emotions; dig down deep enough, and you will find emotions at the bottom of every thought. To live means to grow, to expand, to multiply,” she rubbed her hands over her belly in slow, sensual circles. “You were born to do this. Deep down, you can feel it to be true. Isn’t that right, babe? I know you’re feeling what I’m feeling.”

“So what did you want to show me this time?” I asked.

This,” Sucky rubbed her hands down her frame as she swayed like a snake. “I know you’re feeling down, so I decided to give you a call. Also… how’s your cheek?”

Instinctively, I felt it again, just below my cheekbone. Only now had I realized that I’d been trying to rub the irritation out of it more than usual. “It’s uh… fine,” I said with a subtle cough. “What about it?”

“Don’t worry about it, babe,” she reached up past the top of the screen with a wide smile. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

The Skype call ended, leaving me alone to trace my face with my thumb.

 

Early next morning, I pulled myself out of bed and made my way to the gym, an empty plate sitting ready in my backpack. Same plan as before: place fattening foods on the table, kill time at the gym, and withdraw without raising any suspicions. Even as I signed the logbook at the front desk, I dreaded seeing Zoltan again, even as my heart yearned to gaze at her body to look for signs of growth. Perhaps, I thought as I loaded a plate full of fattening protein bars, I could manage to do a quick warm-up before she asked me to work out…

“Hey creep!”

I turned to find Brooke standing before me wearing a pink sweater and red shorts. The Cheerleading Captain stared past her upturned nose at me with arrogant disdain, hands placed firmly on her slender hips.

“That’s right, I’m talking to you boy,” she jerked her head up. “Don’t even think about going in there.”

“Going in where?” I asked nonchalantly as I pulled my phone out. I hated this woman. Ever since she’d forced me to leave the football field while I was in mid-conversation with someone else, I’d sheltered a small yet fierce flame of loathing within my being. Oh, how I yearned to avenge my humiliation! But she was part of my plan, and that plan required unlocking another hex. How many pounds left for that? It had to be soon…

“Listen to me when I’m talking to you,” Brooke snapped as she pointed a finger at the gym. “While I’m here, you stay the fuck out, understand?”

“Nope,” I glued my eyes to my phone as I opened the app.

“Well, you can tell that to the Dean when I report your ass.”

I finally looked up at her beautiful face, which was contorted by an entitled sneer. “Report what, exactly?”

“See, now you’re starting to get it,” she stepped closer, revelling in my attempts to hide my fear. “Do you know what the definition of sexual harassment is? It’s whatever I say it is. You enter the same room as me? Stalking. Sexual harassment. You talk to my friend? Sexual harassment. You post a little rant about this conversation on Facebook? Sexual-fucking-harassment. You think anyone’s going to listen to a man if he says he didn’t mean it? It will always be your fault. No one believes the man in a domestic dispute. I just say the word, and I can have your life fucking ruined. You think I’ve never done it before? If I so much as see you stalking my friends again, you can kiss a college education and a good job goodbye. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got core to work on… fucking creep.”

To be honest with myself, I was too scared to even reply back. Nothing she’d said was wrong. Hell, I was sure she’d try and expel me the first chance she got anyway. But I did have one, golden ray of hope, and that hope was a brand new unlocked hex just waiting to be cast at Brooke’s pert ass as she stomped towards the gym. Extending my ringed-pinkie finger, I pointed lustfully at her red shorts and manifested the curse that would be the key to my future success.

Brooke shall have the power to wish any part or form of her weight onto any other person she chooses.

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Wow, that HEX has all sorts of potential!  My mind is just spinning at the possibilities.  (But I won't mention any in case they undermine or conflict with your plans)  

This is so much fun.

Very VERY clever!

Thanks

and what could possibly go wrong?  ;)

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Your writing is only getting better, your opening paragraph felt like Cormac McCarthy. Your language is becoming bolder and more expressive the more you write and it's fantastic.

I innately root for Jason, even though he creeps me out. I wish people wouldn't hate him as much as they do, or worse, think he's a creep. I mean, he is a creep but still...

Sucky is an evil manipulative bellend, but you can see how Jason gets so enraptured by her. Especially when she looks like Zoltan. I was glad when he called Sucky out on taking her form, he does have morals. I just don't trust his mental state is all

And that hex at the end!!! This story has had more imagination and creativity than any other I've read on here. It could not be less predictable and more imaginative. This has been such a great story so far

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Sucky seems suspicious to say the least, Jaon does indeed seem a bit of a creep sometimes but I was glad that he saw how immoral is taking the body of another... also I don't feel bad at all for what he did to Brooke, that girl is really hateable  -.-.

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Oof.  Man, I like your writing, but I have a hard time separating whether you’re writing these characters as “LUL SJW feminazi men hater” types for the purposes of plot, or because you, personally, subscribe to the narrative where “these people” are a cultural threat.

 

Even at the end of your last story posted here, you set up a throw away character who, again, fits that “unreasonable “feminist”” trope to act as a foil to display the growth of the two protagonists as a couple.  It seemed like an ultra specific dig at the time, but this story is showing some of the same stuff.

 

Any insight for a loyal reader?

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17 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

“Do you know what the definition of sexual harassment is? It’s whatever I say it is. You enter the same room as me? Stalking. Sexual harassment. You talk to my friend? Sexual harassment. You post a little rant about this conversation on Facebook? Sexual-fucking-harassment. You think anyone’s going to listen to a man if he says he didn’t mean it? It will always be your fault. No one believes the man in a domestic dispute. I just say the word, and I can have your life fucking ruined.

Damn this story is starting to hit levels of realism I didn't expect

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15 hours ago, greinskyn said:

Wow, that HEX has all sorts of potential!  My mind is just spinning at the possibilities.  (But I won't mention any in case they undermine or conflict with your plans)  

This is so much fun.

Very VERY clever!

Thanks

and what could possibly go wrong?  ;)

Could it be that Jason gets in more trouble because he think's he's smarter than he really is?

11 hours ago, swahilimonkfish said:

Your writing is only getting better, your opening paragraph felt like Cormac McCarthy. Your language is becoming bolder and more expressive the more you write and it's fantastic.

I innately root for Jason, even though he creeps me out. I wish people wouldn't hate him as much as they do, or worse, think he's a creep. I mean, he is a creep but still...

Sucky is an evil manipulative bellend, but you can see how Jason gets so enraptured by her. Especially when she looks like Zoltan. I was glad when he called Sucky out on taking her form, he does have morals. I just don't trust his mental state is all

And that hex at the end!!! This story has had more imagination and creativity than any other I've read on here. It could not be less predictable and more imaginative. This has been such a great story so far

McCarthy? I just googled him and he looks pretty interesting; I'll have to read some of his work after I finish reading Robert E. Howard's horror stories 😵

10 hours ago, scl04 said:

Sucky seems suspicious to say the least, Jaon does indeed seem a bit of a creep sometimes but I was glad that he saw how immoral is taking the body of another... also I don't feel bad at all for what he did to Brooke, that girl is really hateable  -.-.

Then again, if he gave Brooke the power to put her weight on others, doesn't that help her? 🤔😆

3 hours ago, incredibad said:

Oof.  Man, I like your writing, but I have a hard time separating whether you’re writing these characters as “LUL SJW feminazi men hater” types for the purposes of plot, or because you, personally, subscribe to the narrative where “these people” are a cultural threat.

 

Even at the end of your last story posted here, you set up a throw away character who, again, fits that “unreasonable “feminist”” trope to act as a foil to display the growth of the two protagonists as a couple.  It seemed like an ultra specific dig at the time, but this story is showing some of the same stuff.

 

Any insight for a loyal reader?

This is actually my favourite reply today because it touches on deeper ideas I'd attempted to tie into the plot without being too corny. Brooke's rant at the end of the chapter is a little over the top, but she says aloud a very real problem in modern Western society. Basically, if a man is accused of harassing, stalking, assaulting a woman, or even just being a "creep", he's immediately assumed guilty by the public -- not that most women would falsely accuse anyone of anything. I personally adore women in general, it's just that I've met women like Brooke in real life, and it was traumatizing.

For example (years ago), a man I worked in the same shop with was drinking with a group of friends, one of which was a disgruntled woman who drunkenly swore that she would "tear the company apart." Anyway, he carried her to her room and went outside to smoke. He was in there with her for about thirty seconds, but that was all it took for her to accuse him of rape. I was guarding the barracks the next morning when he was carried off by the MPs to rot in a brig cell for a couple months while that terrible woman got a free ticket out of the company. What's crazy is that he'd still be in there if it weren't the fact that she tried the exact same trick on a second guy. When the interrogator asked her what happened, he had her testimony from the first time and started asking her about that. She couldn't remember the lies she told back then, so he told her it was a crime to lie to an investigation. Her response: "Wait... that guy's in the brig? I didn't want to send him to the brig!" All charges were dropped, and that dude came back to our company like some POW hero, but here's the thing: he was administratively separated for not signing a visitation book when he carried her home, and the woman went off scott-free. She's still out there, and the thought that she could strike again is more terrifying to me than any Hollywood monster. Worse, there's more women out there just like her; I just read an article detailing how Cardi B openly admitted to drugging and robbing men.

Anyway, it's not that I think badly of women, or even most feminists (some overdo it), it's just that out of thousands of good people I might befriend, date, or even marry, there's one or two psychopaths, and all they have to do is point their finger, say the magic word and I'm done. Well, sorry about the long "insight," but hopefully no one thinks I'm sexist now 🙄

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18 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

Then again, if he gave Brooke the power to put her weight on others, doesn't that help her? 🤔😆

 

 

Very true... I wonder what he has in mind and why he didn't ask something to get revenge on her 🤨

18 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

This is actually my favourite reply today because it touches on deeper ideas I'd attempted to tie into the plot without being too corny. Brooke's rant at the end of the chapter is a little over the top, but she says aloud a very real problem in modern Western society. Basically, if a man is accused of harassing, stalking, assaulting a woman, or even just being a "creep", he's immediately assumed guilty by the public -- not that most women would falsely accuse anyone of anything. I personally adore women in general, it's just that I've met women like Brooke in real life, and it was traumatizing.

For example (years ago), a man I worked in the same shop with was drinking with a group of friends, one of which was a disgruntled woman who drunkenly swore that she would "tear the company apart." Anyway, he carried her to her room and went outside to smoke. He was in there with her for about thirty seconds, but that was all it took for her to accuse him of rape. I was guarding the barracks the next morning when he was carried off by the MPs to rot in a brig cell for a couple months while that terrible woman got a free ticket out of the company. What's crazy is that he'd still be in there if it weren't the fact that she tried the exact same trick on a second guy. When the interrogator asked her what happened, he had her testimony from the first time and started asking her about that. She couldn't remember the lies she told back then, so he told her it was a crime to lie to an investigation. Her response: "Wait... that guy's in the brig? I didn't want to send him to the brig!" All charges were dropped, and that dude came back to our company like some POW hero, but here's the thing: he was administratively separated for not signing a visitation book when he carried her home, and the woman went off scott-free. She's still out there, and the thought that she could strike again is more terrifying to me than any Hollywood monster. Worse, there's more women out there just like her; I just read an article detailing how Cardi B openly admitted to drugging and robbing men.

Anyway, it's not that I think badly of women, or even most feminists (some overdo it), it's just that out of thousands of good people I might befriend, date, or even marry, there's one or two psychopaths, and all they have to do is point their finger, say the magic word and I'm done. Well, sorry about the long "insight," but hopefully no one thinks I'm sexist now 🙄

Don't worry for my part I don't believe that you're sexist at all, I had the misfortune of meeting some girls that used "feminism" to get away with some things and a female friend of mine once told me that someone she knew used this as well to molest a dude, thankfully none of them were as nasty as those two examples that you wrote of but it still shows how some woman take advantage of people's perception nowadays to get whatever they want... maybe this should be talked about more and I'm glad that you tackle this issue in your story as well (I didn't really realize but it's possible that it's the reason as to why I'm pretty much with Jason even though it's true he can be a bit of a creep sometimes, not that he has crossed a real line for now).

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2 hours ago, greinskyn said:

By all that is Rolly!  Get this man to a keyboard!!!

I'm on my keyboard, but I was using it to type other things -- boring things 😑 I'm actually typing the next chapter of this tonight hehe. Maybe it'll be finished by tomorrow? We shall see. Important things are about to develop 😉

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On 3/25/2019 at 2:49 AM, swahilimonkfish said:

Wow, this story is hurtling along. Intrigue, doubt, the large cast of characters and Zoltan, this story has it all

I’ve been sent into the woods again 😓 I’m sleeping out here tonight! 😭 Someone get me a keyboard! And another blanket!

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After many unintended delays, I present to you the next chapter of the misadventures of Jason, in which he continues his attempts to not get in trouble :ph34r:

Chapter Sixteen

               Days passed and I continued my studies of economics and “poundage,” both of which continued with steady progress. Midterms would be coming along next month, and my professors had a good habit of passing out the entire class schedule in the first week, which meant I could read ahead. Hell, two of my midterm papers were finished already. Meanwhile, I spent most of my spare time planting various fattening foods across campus. I couldn’t feed horses or gym rats anymore, and while that slowed me down, it didn’t stop me. In fact, the more girls that plucked the snacks I left under billboards, in snack bowls, and on club tables, the more sources of “dividends” I had. Pounds were seeping back into my pounds bar from all directions, and the more pounds came in, the more fattening food I made in an endless, ever-increasing cycle.

               Huddled in my locked room, I pored over piles of charts, graphs, and tables scattered over my desk, all designed with the intent of planning, organizing, and fully-appreciating my “bank.” With a sigh of satisfaction, I pulled a graph from the stack that depicted three squiggly-lines: the pounds in my pounds bar, the pounds I’d loaned-out, and their net-total. I smoothed the crease from the paper’s edge with warm smile. There was something satisfying about solid paperwork that digital files could never outdo. Besides, solid paperwork couldn’t be hacked.

               The graph confirmed a phenomenon my mind had already begun to wrap around: so long as I kept feeding the student body, my net-total of pounds always increased no matter what. Starting at the beginning of the graph, I traced my finger along the net-total’s line. Slowly, it climbed ever-higher as I struggled to find ways to feed others, then jumped and accelerated at the discovery of the horses, it rose by increments with my discovery of the “water bottle” trick, then tapered-off slightly when I was essentially forbidden to go to the barn anymore. When I was given the Feasting Ring, the line began to rise higher again, but was now beginning to slow.

               My finger tapped the end of the line thoughtfully. As things stood, my profits were beginning to stagnate to a steady pace, and I knew the cause: there was a limit to how many “pound bombs” I could make and distribute. Worse, some weren’t eaten at all. I had to be careful where I put them, and that further slowed me down. This was the situation I was stuck in, and here was where Brooke came into my plans.

               Scoffing at the ceiling as I laced my fingers over my chest, I leaned back in my chair and rested one leg over the other. Brooke the queen-bee, cheerleading-captain, bitchface. She was the key to everything.  With the special hex I’d put on her unsuspecting, small frame, she would be able to take some of her weight onto other girls, and with every, last ounce of weight she lost, I would see an uptick in my pounds bar without having to feed anyone. So long as everything went according to plan, I would be swimming in profits. However, the plan was still full of holes. For one thing, Brooke didn’t know she had this power (not yet), and I had no idea how to get her to realize it without speaking with her myself (which, of course, was not good-to-go). Worse, she had no weight to lose, so there was no reason for her to even think of using her new power.

               I had to think of a solution to these problems for the plan to function. In the meantime, I checked my watch and noted that it was almost noon. Sighing, I rose to my feet and stretched my arms before packing my charts and graphs back into the bottom of my desk drawer. It was time for me to stop procrastinating and head over to my first scheduled counselling…

               But not before I checked on Zoltan’s Insta first! I pulled up the app on my phone and gawked at the videos listed under her name. As sure as the sunrise, she had posted some vids from after her morning workout. She was wearing white shorts combined with a spandex, red leotard that was showing the first signs of running out of breathing room. The slightest hint of an indent around her naval pressed against the fabric, small enough to be mistaken for bloating, but large enough to make my eyes dilate with excitement.

               Truly blessed in life to have a healthy body like this, the text read as she cocked her head from behind her smartphone as she filmed her reflection. Just keep on pushing and don’t let the haters get you down, her hand rubbed the side of a hefty thigh that rubbed lightly against its twin. I gained twenty pounds… whateva. #thunderzolt #bootygainz #thickthighssavelives #stacked

               “Twenty-three pounds,” I smirked as I left my room and flicked the light off.

 

               The counselling office was located in a small, white building half-buried within the forested mountains near the centre of the island. Many times, had I wandered past the humble, barely-two storey structure, unaware that it was anything more than a veterinary clinic. Now that I was stepping inside for the first time, I saw how wrong I truly was. This wasn’t some glorified dog-pound; this was the campus medical building!

               I might have been more excited about this discovery than was warranted, but I had to take my mind off of the awkward counselling session somehow.

               With shortened, hesitant steps, I approached the front desk and found a blonde secretary wearing a striped, black work-suit typing absentmindedly on her computer. As beautiful as she was, my attention was stolen by a bowl of sweets lying on the counter in front of her.

               “Um, good afternoon,” I said casually as I dipped my hand into the sweets. “May I have one?”

               “Good afternoon! Sure, you can have one. they’re not just for me,” she chuckled without looking away from her screen, which allowed me to spawn some pound bombs from the bottom of the bowl.

               “I’m Jason Alban,” I said as I shuffled my hand to disguise the swelling number of sweets and mix them up. “I had an appointment with the college psychiatrist; do you know where she is?”

               The secretary leaned past me to point down a hallway. “Just take a right and you’ll see the stairs. Her office is upstairs… alright?” she plucked a candy from the bowl as she did so.

               “Thanks,” I turned and left. By the time I’d climbed the stairs to the waiting room, my phone had vibrated. I smiled with the certainty that the blonde secretary was now a full pound heavier.

               The waiting room itself was rather small, but it had soothing ocean wave noises playing from some speaker hidden behind an indoor plant, and a massage chair had been plugged into the corner by one of the coffee tables. Speaking of coffee, there was a coffee pot set under the window! Yes! What else was consumed more in an office? I’d struck gold!

               As soon as I had poured myself a cup of steaming, black coffee, I pressed my finger against the pot and heard it fill with fifteen pounds’ worth of pound bombs. How big was the pot? I hazarded to guess one and a half litres, and with half of it already full, the rest was that fifteen pounds. How many cups of coffee was in there? Surely at least twenty, which meant that each cup would be worth a little less than a pound, and judging from the adjoining offices, there were just three office workers on this floor, plus whoever came for appointments, which meant that each office worker would probably gain a couple pounds…

               One of the doors opened, and Emily squirmed meekly out from behind it. She gawked at me for a moment only to turn shamefully away.

               Her arrival hit my mood like a dump of cold water; I couldn’t pretend that I wasn’t in trouble anymore. All at once, the dire reality of the situation was at the forefront of my mind: I was “Stalker Jason,” students were slandering my name, complaining to the Dean, who had decided I needed counselling, which could be an attempt to find an excuse to expel me on charges of insanity or worse, and to top it all off, the only student that had ever trusted me was here as well, getting counselling and… did she talk about me? What did she say? I wasn’t even sure anymore.

               “Hey Emily,” I mumbled. It was quieter than I intended.

               Emily’s mouth moved soundlessly in an attempt to reply. Swallowing her fear, she looked at me with large, yearning eyes. “Oh Jason, hello. Are you alright?”

               Tears beaded under my eyelids with the realization that in spite of everything, she cared about me. “I was going to ask you that,” I replied. “I haven’t seen you since… how’ve you been?”

               “I’m okay,” Emily nodded to herself. “I just… I… hey, Jason? Can I ask you…”

               A well-dressed woman wearing a light yellow jacket and a slim, white skirt smiled warmly from within the office Emily had left. Sunlight from an open window flowed through the loose, blonde curls of her hair as her blue eyes found me gawking at her.

               “Mr. Alban?” she asked quietly.

               I swallowed. “Yes?”

               Swinging the door wide and stepping forward with her arm stretched for a handshake, she beckoned me into her room. “My name is Molly. What’s your first name?”

               “Jason,” I shook her hand, eyes darting between her blue pupils and Emily’s brown ones.

               “Well, come in and have a seat,” Molly stepped back to guide me further inside.

               I entered her bright, inviting office with all the dread of a doomed farm animal herded into a slaughterhouse. Her insistence on speaking with a first-name-basis, coupled with her warm and caring demeanour aroused in me all the paranoia I first felt when the Dean ordered me to come. I didn’t know Molly, and likewise she didn’t know me. The pleasant greetings, the comfortable sofa, and the soothing noises still audible from outside were all an elaborate façade meant to trick me into exposing as many flaws about myself as possible. Surely she saw me as mentally unstable – insane, even – and when she had gathered enough evidence of such, what then? My educational career, and even my very life, was hanging in the balance even now as I sank comfortably into the nearest seat. This psychiatrist was not my friend, and I would not reveal my secrets.

               “Go ahead and lay down if you like,” Molly sat opposite me so that the sun-filled window was behind her. The light spilled over her head and shoulders in a curiously angelic fashion, reflecting slightly against her skirt as she propped one leg over another in a modest fashion that, nevertheless, exposed her well-toned legs to the mid-thigh. At the sight of her feminine hamstrings, I blinked intensely to dispel the effect of her fine form on my troubled mind.

               “That’s alright ma’am,” I pursed my lips nervously, leaning my elbows against my legs. “If I did that, I wouldn’t be able to look out the window; it’s a nice day out today.”

               “It is!” Molly looked down her lap and adjusted a notepad she had readied for my incriminating testimony. “Especially with the lightning storm we had a couple days ago.”

               “Yeah,” I said neutrally, recalling my skype call with Sucky that night. “Sun’s had just enough time to dry everything up. I think the weather forecast is rain tomorrow, though.”

               “Would you like some tea?” Molly asked, leaning sideways to grab a kettle resting on her desk. “I have some Earl Grey here.”

               “I like tea,” I stared at the kettle absentmindedly. “Um, sure. I can have a cup.”

               She poured me a dose of steaming tea in a Styrofoam cup that I accepted cautiously. As I blew the steam away from my hesitant lips, I stared at her dainty hands pouring herself a cup of her own. It was a fleeting moment of opportunity, and there was no time to question the morality of what I was already beginning to do. My ringed-index finger was already extended, adding a single drop of tea worth ten pounds. I focused the drop’s apparition near the top so that it would splash the surface and spill completely into her cup.

               Why did I do that? Was it frustration with being treated like a psychopath, or was it because of some deeper, inexplicable desire? I couldn’t fully comprehend it, but it was of no concern why it happened when the weighty poison was already diluting itself in her cup. I took a small sip of the Earl Grey. Strong enough to singe my tongue as well as bitter. Not that bad.

               “Let’s go ahead and start with how you’re feeling today,” Molly leaned towards the cup and blew with softly-pursed lips.

               “I’m okay,” I replied, supressing my nervousness.

               “Just okay? How’s schoolwork?”

               “It’s going pretty well,” I rubbed my Feasting Ring with my thumb, feeling the heat of the tea threatening to burn my fingers. “They keep telling me I’m smart, so I don’t think I’ll have to worry about grades or anything,” frowning, I took another sip of the Earl Grey. The silence of the room felt wrong, prompting me to continue. “A lot of girls call me smart. It tends to be what they say when they’re explaining why they’ll never date me. I hate it.”

               I looked up from the tea and saw her jot a note down. She was already writing a case against me. “Being smart is never a bad thing, is it?”

               “It’s apparently not what people find attractive,” I shrugged. “It hasn’t helped me with anything except grades, and when I graduate, what good will it be then?”

               “You’d be surprised how valuable intelligence is after college,” Molly said before taking a sip of her own tea, frowning at the taste.

               “I get that,” I said quickly. “But what good is succeeding in life if you’re alone?”

               “You’re alone?”

               I felt my jaw twitch. “I don’t have anyone,” I said it before thinking twice. The secret was out, and it was too late to retract it. “I don’t have any friends here… I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I just… I used to wander in circles around the Student Union and say good morning to as many people as I could. But the more I tried, the more everyone made it clear that I wasn’t one of them. I don’t even get to go partying on weekends. It’s depressing.”

               “I guess it must be pretty hard to be the only man on the island,” Molly wrote across her notepad before raising her tea to her lips again. While she was looking into her steaming cup, I stole a glance at her half-exposed hamstring, which grew and softened ever so slightly, almost imperceptively, but enough to be noticed by one who knew what to look for. “What about your family? Do you call them?”

               “No… they can’t do anything about my situation; I’d just worry them for no reason.”

               “But they could give you some advice, perhaps?”

               Flashbacks of my mother’s advice came to me in an instant, and I remembered how she forbade me to date in high school. Why bother if I’d just leave for college anyway? Best to wait for college. Better yet, never dabble in premarital sex. Best to wait until everything was right. Now look at me: a shy, clueless virgin with no people skills and zero chances.

               I remembered my father, my shy, clueless father, who sat at his desk all day to work. He hated the city life. He hated the government. He hated crowds, noise, taxes, and television. He moved us as far away from it all as he could, and when that was done, I found that he hated public schools too. So there I was, my entire childhood sheltered away from civilization. It was a miracle I was able to go to high school at all, for all the good it did.

               My siblings… being the oldest and biggest meant that you were blamed for every argument, every fight, and received every punishment. It was better to go outside and just get away from everyone, to take a book to the riverbank or mountain clearings and have time to think about life.

               “Yeah, I guess I could call them sometime.”

               Molly took a larger sip of her tea as she gathered her thoughts. The flesh of her thighs expanded in all directions, tightening against each other. “You weren’t abused as a child, were you?”

               With my father gone for weeks at a time to trying to sell his old practice, my mother sank into deeper, more serious bouts of depression. First came the migraines, which evolved into stuttering and disturbing moans. The seizures started soon after that. It took five years to find pills that helped while I scavenged for edible food in the pantry, unable to stop younger siblings from tearing the house apart. It was better to go outside with a book.

               “Oh no, nothing like that. My parents are great. I love them very much,” I smiled in spite of myself, helping myself to more tea. “I love people. I grew up in a big family, so I really want to find someone I can marry and have a family with. It’s important to me… it’s not like I would want to live alone like a hermit in the woods my whole life,” I chuckled awkwardly.

               “Of course not!” Molly smiled as she finished writing a long note. “Well… I’ll be frank with you Jason. I think you’re a good person. Your heart’s in the right place, you care about people, and in spite of being the only man on this island, you’ve been doing very well in your studies. I’ve only just met you, but you come across as very smart, and I know that if you keep going at it, you’ll find your match out there.”

               My eye twitched as I masked my face by drinking again. “You think I’m smart?”

               “I know you are; the record the Dean sent me says so,” she must’ve seen the look of alarm in my eyes, so she waved her hand casually. “Oh, don’t worry about that; you’re not in trouble. I’m only here to help you.”

               Of course she’d say that; what else would she say? “I think I’m okay,” I said quietly.

               “It’s just a standard precaution,” Molly smiled as she drank the tea, tugging her skirt down and adjusting herself in her seat. “It’s really hard to talk about depression or anger or any feelings, really. That’s why we have students that might be having trouble brought here. It doesn’t mean they’re having any problems; we’re just here in case they need help, you see? And you’re not the only one who sees me; I have plenty of other students sent here just in case.”

               “Like Emily?” I asked curiously.

               Molly shrugged. “I can’t say if I do. Everything said in this office is completely confidential.”

               “It is?”

               “Of course. This is a safe spot.”

               “Ah.”

               Leaning down to jot a final note, Molly drank the last of her tea and set it on the table while simultaneously grabbing a business card. “I’m glad you came Jason. It looks like you’re a pretty stable individual that’s just going through some stress. I’m going to give you my card in case you ever want to call me and schedule another meeting. I would chat more, but there’s a staff meeting in ten minutes. You don’t hesitate to call whenever you need to; if I don’t pick up, my email is also there… alright?”

               “Excellent,” I sighed with relief.

               As one, we rose from our seats and reached across the room to shake hands. Molly slipped the card into my hand as she tugged at her skirt, which had become noticeably tighter. A slight, new bulge adorned her belly.

               “You have a good day Jason,” Molly smiled as she tugged her blouse with both hands. “Good luck.”

               “Thanks Molly,” I smiled back. “I might come back. We’ll see.”

               As I closed her office door, I had to shake my head at how strange my carnal instincts were. The tummy bulge suited her…

               My thoughts were interrupted by the presence of Emily sitting in the waiting room while scrolling through her phone. As I stood there she looked up and pocketed the phone. Apparently, she had been waiting for me.

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This chapter felt a little more heartfelt after some of the previous bleakness and nihilism, I think therapy might suit Jason. Plus you do a good job of making your story more-ish with the way that you lead into the next chapter. Each one ends on a cliff-hanger. Some minor, some major, but always a cliff-hanger

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Well now Jason may be getting a lil bit paranoid right there, therapy might do him some good indeed. I'll be waiting to see what Emily has to say to him.

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On ‎4‎/‎5‎/‎2019 at 4:14 AM, swahilimonkfish said:

This chapter felt a little more heartfelt after some of the previous bleakness and nihilism, I think therapy might suit Jason. Plus you do a good job of making your story more-ish with the way that you lead into the next chapter. Each one ends on a cliff-hanger. Some minor, some major, but always a cliff-hanger

The next chapter's in the works! I'm trying to make the plot as unpredictable as possible, so hopefully no one can guess what will actually happen.

On ‎4‎/‎5‎/‎2019 at 5:20 AM, scl04 said:

Well now Jason may be getting a lil bit paranoid right there, therapy might do him some good indeed. I'll be waiting to see what Emily has to say to him.

Paranoia stems from social awkwardness. 

1 hour ago, Ajayy said:

You know what this story, the final season of Game of thrones, and Endgame have in common?

I can’t wait for them!

I do my best! But I want to watch this new "Shazaam" movie with some friends of mine  Then I can return to writing.

On a related note, anyone have any ideas what Jason's next move will be? 🤔

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Great addition!  The visuals really hit home.  They also got me thinking as I processed what these women are going through.  On this island...  Is it just the University?  What sort of infrastructure is there?  Seems to me there is going to be a huge rise in demand for ever larger outfits.  I predict a shortage.  You could even say the selection is too small.

I've daydreamed some on this odd reality.  Are these women unwitting participants themselves?  Does anyone really leave?  How manufactured are their back stories?  Hmmmm.

My guesses for Jason is that his hesitation over using the Feasting ring is quickly fading.  I'm thinking a certain Head Cheerleader will develop a rapid weight issue.  That should present opportunities to fill the pounds bar.

Much appreciated.

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14 hours ago, greinskyn said:

Great addition!  The visuals really hit home.  They also got me thinking as I processed what these women are going through.  On this island...  Is it just the University?  What sort of infrastructure is there?  Seems to me there is going to be a huge rise in demand for ever larger outfits.  I predict a shortage.  You could even say the selection is too small.

I've daydreamed some on this odd reality.  Are these women unwitting participants themselves?  Does anyone really leave?  How manufactured are their back stories?  Hmmmm.

My guesses for Jason is that his hesitation over using the Feasting ring is quickly fading.  I'm thinking a certain Head Cheerleader will develop a rapid weight issue.  That should present opportunities to fill the pounds bar.

Much appreciated.

I'm toying with the idea of mapping the island somehow (or at least having Jason map it in the plot). The infrastructure and terrain of the island become more important further down the rabbit-hole, so it might be worth fleshing-out. I can't say anything about the true nature of the students though! That would spoil the twists -- speaking of which, standby for the plot to twist like a gnarled oak.

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