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The Thin College


>_< 0_0

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4 hours ago, Ajayy said:

I love this story!

How many chapters do you plan on doing because I never want it to end!

Me neither! There's plenty more girls to fatten, so many sports, so many sororities, so little time 😍 Plus, I promised some guys that I'd write some of their requests in here (actually, Brooke is one of them!), so that has to be written too. Meanwhile, we get to speculate just how to play this whole thing and whether Jason will do this or that. I love it. Hopefully, Emily gets better haha.

4 hours ago, scl04 said:

Well this has completely backfired, it's true that we judged Brooke as a one dimensional awful person rather than a normal one with healthy friendships, hopefully Jason has been able to fix that now for sure.

It's part of human nature to think of people we hate as stupid and shallow, so it's very tempting to write villains as such and proceed to write about how they fail at life. This is so common that if you see a big bully in a story, you can almost guarantee that they will get their ass handed to them by some smug, little guy within a few minutes! But this just cheapens the whole experience of seeing them fail. If the bully keeps on winning, his eventual demise is so much more satisfying! Ancient Greeks always built-up to huge moments where characters received justice near the end of the story, and modern western literature has not necessarily re-visited this concept until recently. We have George R. R. Martin and his Song of Ice and Fire series to thank for that 🙂 Oh, and the Attack on Titan anime does a good job of that too, even though it isn't western literature.

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Let me post a non-chapter real quick... you all have NO idea how busy it's been, but it's all happening just as the plot's getting good! It's the worst luck! Like, I'm trying to get permission to vacation in Ghana and it's way harder than I thought. Plus, I just briefed about nuclear survival tactics and I'm trying to type that up too. I kid you not! Be patient; I got, like, two sentences done of the next chapter so far 😫

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Ha! I managed another chapter! I think you'll get a kick out of this one; it has all kinds of gaining 💪😍

Chapter Twenty-One

               It wasn’t my best hex, what with the sloppy-sentence structure, but it wasn’t like I expected Mary to just walk up to me and apologize for her behaviour, so I had to improvise. What was with that weird apology anyway? Who made her do it? Someone must’ve; it’s not like I believed she was being honest, after all. Clearly, she had some ulterior motive, and I would not fall victim to her tricks again!

               In any case, she was fattening-up even now. I had no idea how much weight she’d gain; it depended on how much fat Brooke stuffed into poor Emily, but however much it was, it was about to be epic.

               Mary took a seat at the table she had recently left facing away from me, surrounded by giddy Equestrian girls. Were they teasing her for talking to me? No matter. I would discreetly watch events unfold from my isolated corner. Instinctually, I rubbed my forehead with my hand as a way to shade my eyes from their gaze and appear less perverted. Yes, I was about to gawk at this girl for a little bit, but really, what’s the definition of a pervert? Just a guy a girl doesn’t want around her, and most every girl hated my very existence. Maybe that was why so many girls called me “Stalker Jason?”

               Mary scooted her seat into the table, leaning forward to dig-in and share scandalous gossip. Even as she lifted her fork, the hem of her white breeches bowed towards the cleft of her ass, both cheeks swelling with mass, slowing as the durable, elastic fabric reached its limit. It was like watching bread dough expand in the oven.

               She only managed to take a single bite of her food before looking down at herself, feeling the increasing pinch of her growth. She reached behind herself to tug the rear beltloop of her breeches, but failed to adjust herself. Now visibly in a state of cold panic, Mary held her arms apart from herself as her friends failed to realize any unusual developments – that is, until the girl next to her noticed Mary’s discomfort.

               Then it happened: a popped seam on the side of her thigh, white skin bulging out like dough in a burst croissant-can. A high-pitched gasp escaped Mary’s lips as two audible pops sounded as her breeches burst at the seams. She glanced in all directions, face reddened with embarrassment at her predicament.

               I sighed, disappointed that the seam of her ass didn’t pop. Oh well; it was still thrilling to watch a rapid weight gain. After all, my hands were shaking, my breath was rattling, hell, half my face felt like it was on fire.

               A strange cough scraped past my larynx, forcing its way past my teeth. For the first time, as I rubbed the edge of my jawline, I realized that there was something wrong with me. What had previously been a minor irritancy had developed into some kind of condition. I scratched at the skin, grimacing as the adrenaline coursed through my limbs. What was it? All I knew was that it happened every time my emotions broiled. At least it wasn’t permanent; if the last few times were any guide, I would feel normal when I calmed down.

               When I looked-up, Mary was stomping away from her table of friends as fast as she could, shielded by one of her closest friends as girls snickered at the embarrassing sight. Tied around her waist was a grey sweater that did a poor job of hiding skin that was forcing itself through her clothes. Her breeches had burst twice, on the outside of one leg and the inside of another. As she passed me, I caught an exciting glimpse of her lower belly, which had popped her breech’s button and unzipped the front to give itself room to jiggle in the open air like a pregnant woman just beginning to show.

               Some girl in the booth ahead of mine leaned closer to her friends to gossip about Mary’s mishap, grinning without shame as her friends laughed light-heartedly amongst themselves, and I had to shake my head with self-righteous disdain. People are so quick to mock their peers, aren’t they? It’s easy to think you’re the greatest human in the world. Didn’t they know how serious this was? What would they think when it was their turn to grow? I’d drink to that. Speaking of which, there were a few gulps of water left. Down the hatch…

               My phone vibrated, and I pulled it up as I wiped my mouth. Emily was texting me!

               Jason!

               I grinned at the sight. She must’ve noticed her recent weight loss! I could practically hear her voice gushing with happiness.

               What’s up? I texted back, watching the screen, thrilled at the sight of “Emily is typing…”

               Can you come over? The text popped on my screen within seconds.

               Sure, I texted quickly. Where are you again?

               In my dorm room. Olds Building. Room 114.

               On my way, and with that sent, I turned my phone off, pocketed it, and stood with my empty dish in hand.

               Surely, Emily was going to show me just how much weight she had magically lost. Then again, it was anyone’s guess as to what she would think about it. In the meantime, I would have to figure out how to get to Emily’s room. After all, there were visitation hours and curfew.

 

               Olds dorm sat squat and wide on the street corner, a mere two storeys high, though the rear of the building hung on stilts off an impressive cliff overlooking a steep, creek-filled draw. In spite of its name, it was one of the newer dorms on campus, and was built in the 1980’s with generous donations from some millionaire woman named “Olds.” The architecture looked relatively normal from the front, save for a large window wrapping all the way around the second floor, but the rear of the building had an impressive lobby overlooking a draw with a creek flowing at the bottom. It was a great place to study, and I used to do so daily – until the prefects chased me out.

               The prefects were one more clique of girls that made my life a little harder. In spite of the fact that Biltmore College was almost all female, they still had visitation hours and curfew periods. Considering my lack of romantic intercourse, this wasn’t a problem for me as I studied by the spectacular window, but one day a prefect strode up to me, clipboard in hand, and told me the visitation hours applied to the entire dorm, that I failed to sign-in to her visitation roster, and that I couldn’t stay without an escort. It was honestly too much bullshit to make it worth attempting to return. Now, however…

               I entered the dorm lobby, admiring the rough, grizzly-bear carpets, marble fireplace, and flatscreen TV’s. The prefect’s desk was situated at the foot of the stairs, a bored blonde wearing a light jacket reclining behind it with her study materials spread in a semi-circle. She shot a mean look at me with piercing, blue eyes, twirling her hi-liter between her fingers.

               “You here to see someone?” she asked suspiciously.

               “Yeah, I’m here for Emily,” I nodded, looking at the sign-in sheet. “She’s uh… let me check which room she’s in…”

               “There’s no visitation right now,” the prefect stated flatly.

               “Really? But visitation ends at 6pm; that’s half an hour from now.”

               “Visitation ends at 4:30pm today,” she shoved her thumb towards a placard on the wall behind her. “Come back tomorrow at noon if you really want to.”

               “Okay,” I caught myself starting to grit my teeth in anger. “What if you went to her room and got her for me? She’s expecting me.”

               “She’s not even here,” she turned the page in her textbook, ignoring my frustration.

               “She texted me to come here.”

               “You’re not allowed in here. Bye.”

               Sorely tempted to kick something, I turned on a dime back from whence I came. The door slammed so hard that I flinched, worried I’d smashed its glass panelling. Damned, fucking prefect. Just what was the point with visitation hours anyway? Sorority shenanigans? Lesbomancy? I pulled my phone out.

               Hey, I shot the text. So the prefect stopped me at the lobby. Says you aren’t –

               “Jason!”

               I turned towards the corner of Olds. Emily was leaning out one of the first floor windows, waving frantically.

               “Emily!” I called. “They wouldn’t let me in!”

               “Come here!”

               Hastily, I trespassed over the freshly-cut lawn, dodging rows of orchids and bushes in a mad beeline dash straight for Emily’s window. She wasn’t smiling, but had the wild-eyed look of a conspiracy theorist seeing an alien with his own eyes.

               “Quickly,” she hissed, leaning towards me. “Quick before they see you!”

               “What’s going on?” I looked up at her from the bed of flowers and trimmed bushes ringing the dorm.

               “You have to see this,” she reached down, hanging out the window. “Take my hand; you’re coming in.”

               “Uh…” I felt my face redden. “You mean…?”

               “Hurry up!” she gripped me by the wrist as she reached down with her other hand. “We don’t have much time!”

               Bracing her feet against the wall beneath the window, Emily heaved me past the bushes and through her window’s sharp frame. As my ribs rubbed against the frame’s edges, I gazed up at her face, grimacing with fervour, excitement, and exertion. I realized then that perhaps there was more to this situation than I had originally thought.

               My body spilled over her desk like a net of caught fish. At some point, I heard something tumble to the floor as my gaze reeled across the ceiling, but I had made it inside. Emily’s room was modest, but clean and orderly, with various trinkets and home souvenirs scattered over the furniture.

               “So what’s all this?” I said as I rose to my feet.

               “Whisper,” Emily put a finger to her lips. “People can hear through the walls.”

               “… what’s up? You sure I should be sneaking in here? What if your roommate walks in?”

               “Don’t worry about that; I don’t have a roommate.”

               “Oh, right. I forgot.”

               “Who told you that?”

               “I forget… Anna, I think?”

               “That doesn’t matter. But I need to show you this… look…”

               With whitened knuckles, she dragged her shirt up to the lower wiring of her bra, revealing a set of rock-hard abs. They were by no means strong abs, but firm and well-defined like a professional athlete. A fairly long silence stretched between us as I stared at my handiwork, long enough that as Emily stared at me waiting for a response, we could hear girls rushing outside in the hall.

               “I really hope that door is locked,” I stared towards the sounds.

               “I’m back to normal,” Emily threw her shirt back down. “You see that? I’m… thin again.”

               “Yeah, I saw that,” I whispered nervously. “I told you the bloating would go down, didn’t I?”

               “It was not bloating,” she shook her finger at me. “Back there, over at the track, I saw how big Brooke got, and how she made it all go into me. I spent the last hour staring at my stomach, so believe me, it was not bloating.”

               “But it’s gone now; whatever it was,” I stared at the loose fit of her shirt below the modest swell of her breasts. “Is that what you wanted to show me?”

               Something banged against the wall outside, and Emily glanced back towards it before turning back to me. “Jason, something’s going on here. First, Zoltan blows up like a balloon in less than two weeks, then Brooke starts growing… Jason, I saw her!”

               “Saw who?”

               “Zoltan! She was thinner! Something’s making people shift their weight between each other, and I think I know what it is.”

               I pursed my lips nervously. “What?”

               Brooke,” Emily growled. “I don’t know how, but she somehow has the power to shift weights around. First she fattened Zoltan, then me!”

               “You mentioned this before,” I said quietly.

               Someone outside was screaming. “You bitch!”

               Emily shook my arms with desperate hands. “Listen Jason! Just listen! It’s all coming together! Zoltan started gaining weight a couple days after she called-out Brooke for not studying hard enough for her classes. Combine that with how she made me gain weight when I started training with the team, and it all fits!”

               It surprised me how much thinking Emily had done. It was also bemusing how far-off the mark she was, but this would work to my advantage. Best to play along. “But that doesn’t explain how you or Zoltan started losing weight. Plus, why would she gain weight?”

               “I think she’s cursed,” Emily folded her arms thoughtfully. “I’m not sure how or why, but what I think is going on is that she can put her weight on other people, but gains it all back eventually…”

               The door to the next room slammed. Someone was stomping so hard that we could hear her muffled steps through the wall. Emily clasped her hands on my narrow bicep and dragged me over towards her bed, which was wedged in the corner.

               “Quick, get over here,” Emily was more crazed than ever. “Come on! She lives right next to me.”

               “Who?” I asked as I scrambled my legs over her silken, purple bedsheets. But she waved her hand dismissively as she leaned her ear close to the wall. I followed suit, staring into her eyes as we listened attentively.

               “You psychotic maniac!” a muffled voice hollered. “Why did you do this to me!?”

               “I-I didn’t do anything! I promise!”

               The second voice made me gasp with recognition; it was Brooke Deeters! Emily flung her eyebrows at me in an I-told-you-so manner.

               “Don’t play dumb you little shit! You told me you had this new power and you expect me to believe that I just… magically puff up? Look at this? Look at me bitch!”

               “Mary, calm down. I…”

               “I thought you were my friend!”

               “But I don’t know why it’s happening! Like, I was getting big too, but it just sort of… I was able to give it all to Emily…”

               At this, Emily slapped my arm with excitement. As far as she was concerned, this was all confirming her own conspiracy theory.

               “Well then, go ahead!” I heard Mary slap her softened thighs. “Make me thin again. Take all this back and just… give it to someone else! I don’t care who.”

               “Okay! Um… give me a second…”

               A sweet, delicious moment of silence as the two cheerleaders next door did their damndest to make things work. Emily and I couldn’t help but snicker at each other, delighted at our enemies’ struggle with their waistlines.

               “Brooke,” Mary growled. “It’s not working.”

               “Look, I don’t know how it works, okay? Here, hold still for a second.”

               “Don’t touch it…”

               “Look, do you want it to work or not? You need to let me try.”

               “Ugh, fine. But hurry up; your hands are cold…”

               “Let me think…”

               “So… when is it supposed to start working? I’m not getting any thinner here…”

               “It’s not working,” Brooke’s voice quivered with alarm.

               “It better work. Look at me Brooke! You ripped my favourite pair of breeches! I can’t go riding looking like… this!”

               “But I don’t know what’s going on! You’re not the only one getting fat. What about me?”

               “Hmph. Well I see that you’ve shrunk back to normal after making Emily fat – ‘cept looks like these aren’t any smaller…”

               “H-hey! No! Don’t touch me like that!”

               “Whatever. I guess you’re fine making my lower-half fat while keeping the best for yourself.”

               “It’s not like that! I didn’t make you fat, I promise!”

               “Well, if you’re not gonna help me get thin, you could at least even me out a little, but I guess I’m beneath you…”

               “Hey, if you want them so bad… oh… oh gawd…”

               “What the hell… what’s happening to my –?”

               Suddenly, Emily’s door was assaulted by a knock so loud, it could’ve been a battering-ram. “Prefects! Let us in!”

               “Shit,” Emily grabbed my shoulders and began shoving me in some unknown direction. “Don’t talk. Just get in… uh, just a minute! I got to put something on! Jason, squeeze under the bed. Don’t. Move. Give me a moment!”

               There was barely enough space under the bed for me to breathe, but even as I started thinking of a better hiding spot, Emily began shoving her spare blanket into my face. It was a simple, yet effective tactic to ensure no one would see me if they decided to check under the bed. As long as no one sat on the bed, I’d survive this latest danger.

               “Coming!” Emily’s footsteps withdrew towards the door, and I heard her zip her jeans up and down for added sound-effects. “Almost ready!”

               I heard the door creak open.

               “H-hi,” Emily said humbly. “How are you – oof!”

               “Move,” a deep, feminine voice growled. “You got visitors in here?”

               “No… you were probably hearing the argument next door. Someone should really check on that – hey! Don’t look in my closet!”

               “What’s the matter?” a third voice asked from the other side of the door. “What you hiding in here? Beer? Weed?”

               “Stop that! You can’t just throw my stuff all over the –”

               “Yes we can,” the deep voice slammed her closet shut. “It’s all in that statement of understanding you signed when you moved in. You got a problem with that?”

               “N-no… but…”

               My heart skipped a beat when I heard the footsteps stop just short of the bed. I could feel the mattress overhead sink with the weight of someone’s arm as they leaned down to peer under the bed. All it would take is for them to pull the blanket away, and it would be all over. A man in a woman’s dorm room past visitation hours. I didn’t even have a new hex ready. I was helpless!

               “Well, well, well,” a prefect said from the room’s far corner. “What do we have here? Bailey’s? A bottle of Jack?”

               “Looks like you’re caught red-handed,” the deep voice cooed.

               I heard the bottles clink against each other. “Let me guess. ‘They’re not mine. I’m holding them for a friend,’” she laughed.

               “T-that’s not it…” Emily croaked.

               “Oh? They were here when you moved in?”

               “Let’s get something straight Emily… we take underage drinking seriously here. A girl like you thinks she’s above the rules and everything goes to shit. So we’re taking these with us. You can just sit back and wonder if we give them to the Dean or…”

               As I heard the prefects chuckling at their absolute power over Emily, I clenched my fists with rage. With no line-of-sight, I couldn’t put pound-bombs in their recently-acquired drinks. I didn’t even know who they were! All I could do was wait, and it made my guts quiver.

               “Is that why you came?” Emily asked with a mixture of grief and fury. “To shake me down and throw a party with my things?”

               “Hey, you better not fuss or we’ll smash one of these bottles all over your floor. What would the Dean think? A mad drunk wrecking her own room? That’s grounds for academic probation.”

               “Quiet, little Emily an angry drunk? Who’d ever guess that? Ha! Be seeing you around. Have a nice, fucking day.”

               The door closed, but now there was total silence, and it dragged on and on.

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12 hours ago, Batman76 said:

Oh wow, this is a great twist. Emily thinks that it's brooke, perfect! But I think that the prefects are gonna get heavy...

First, Jason must escape the dorm unseen, then he must discover who the prefects were...

plotting the legend of sleepy hollow GIF

6 hours ago, swahilimonkfish said:

Oh, Jason is so close to being rumbled. We got to hear the comeuppance of Brooke and we possibly have new antagonists. Excellent!

Does "rumbled" mean getting in trouble, sex... or both? I know American-English, but English-English is hard.

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4 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

First, Jason must escape the dorm unseen, then he must discover who the prefects were...

plotting the legend of sleepy hollow GIF

Does "rumbled" mean getting in trouble, sex... or both? I know American-English, but English-English is hard.

Sorry, rumbled means 'found out'. I mean, I wouldn't want to get with somebody who calls sex 'rumbling', but I guess that's possible too.

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So my entire area just had a day-long wi-fi blackout and I was like "I better post what I got now before it blacks-out again." Here's the next chapter then! 

Chapter Twenty-Two

               It was hard to say how long I hid myself in the dark, cramped space under Emily’s bed, but hidden behind a blanket, I couldn’t see if the prefects really had gone – or anything at all. Still, the room remained silent, and I decided that I would push the blanket aside and crawl out after counting to sixty. Sixty seconds later, and I began to doubt myself. What if the prefects had only pretended to leave? What if they were standing over the bed right now, waiting for me to give myself away? So I stayed hidden. The hands of my wristwatch glowed against my wrist, but without the numbers, time itself was abstract. But as the minute hand traced itself clockwise, I could see that it had been five, long, silent minutes. Surely the prefects had better things to do, especially if they had stolen Emily’s liquor stash? Speaking of which – Emily? An underage drinker? I mean, so was I, but Emily? I never expected someone so introverted and quiet to do anything like that. I had to talk to her about it.

               With that thought, I pushed the blanket out from under the bed. The first rays of light that broke through made me wince as I shuffled sideways to escape the tight space. I got on one knee, brushed myself off, and got my bearings. Emily was sitting against her door, both doorknob and bolt locked and secure. She didn’t even look at me.

               “Emily?” I whispered, self-conscious of the thin walls.

               She stared at me with reddened eyes, and I realized she’d been weeping so quietly that even I couldn’t hear it. But now, with the whites of her eyes stained with bloodshot capillaries, I could see that she was filled with fierce, burning resolve. It was the exact opposite of anything I had ever seen her do, and I didn’t dare sit next to her.

               “Hey…” I rested on the balls of my feet to get to her level. “So I heard everything.”

               “I bet you think I’m worthless,” she glanced away.

               “No, of course not. You know, I drink under the table too, so I don’t think any less of you.”

               “But that’s different,” a tear traced itself across her cheek as she frowned at the wall. “I go to church. I’m supposed to be the good one…”

               “There’s nothing wrong with drinking. Hey… remember when you asked me if I wanted to go to church with you? Let’s go this weekend.”

               She nodded to herself. Then, after smearing the tears off her face, she stared at me again. “Alright… but there’s more important things to worry about here. Jason… I know you think it’s crazy, and I know I sound crazy, but ever since that morning when we walked alone together and I blacked-out, things have been happening. Zoltan and her cheer squad have been growing and shrinking – and more and more too. I don’t understand all of it yet, but I have to get to the bottom of this! If Brooke really is making other people fat, I have to find a way to stop her. We have to find a way to stop her, because who’s going to believe us? Jason? Will you help me?”

               “Of course,” I said, still several feet from her. “I believe you now Emily. After what we heard in Brooke’s room? Something’s going on. But what exactly are you planning to do?”

               Sniffing, Emily frowned and stiffened her jaw. “I got to get close to her. That means I got to keep training with the cheer squad. It’s like you said, right? I can’t run away from her, or she’ll keep getting what she wants. Besides, my weight went back down, didn’t it?”

               “That’s great!” I said, thinking of how my plan would keep working. “I mean, I’m happy you aren’t running away. But what should I do?”

               “Can you… get me another bottle of Bailey’s?”

               “Sure,” I said quietly.

 

               “… and so, just when all its stock investors thought things in Enron Corporation were going according to plan, it was all just an elaborate hoax of smoke and mirrors.”

               Ms. Buxley finished writing across the whiteboard, her suit jacket riding-up as she reached upwards, revealing a white undershirt hugging a tight, thin waist. Turning sideways slightly, she stared at me, the student front and centre of class, as I did my best not to get caught staring at curve of her derriere within her tight, black miniskirt or the small swell of her perked breasts under her blouse.

               “Jason Alban.”

               “Yes ma’am,” I straightened myself, readying for my answer.

               “How would you explain the schemes Enron used?”

               “That’s a pretty broad question,” I adjusted my glasses with the tip of my finger. “Enron’s methods of hiding its financial insecurity were deliberately complicated so that no one would notice anything was wrong.”

               Jeiny scoffed from her corner of class with folded arms. “If you don’t know the answer, just say so.”

               “I’m not finished,” I raised my eyebrows and raised my hand in her direction. It was a subtle excuse to shoot a hex at her: Jeiny will gain one pound every time she answers one of Ms. Buxley’s questions. I smiled as she rolled her eyes, comforted in my newfound power over her figure. Ah yes, it was good that I was levelling-up so rapidly now. With so many pounds shifting from person to person, my pounds income was triple what it had been – sometimes quadruple. Speaking of which…

               “Anyway, I’d explain Enron’s method by example: suppose I had two cows on my farm, then I get a third cow loaned to me based off the income of two cows. With my three cows, I ask my neighbour permission to use one of his cows to do some ploughing. Now – with four cows, see – I publish my farm’s earnings along with my plans to buy a fifth cow, as well as announce that one of my cows is pregnant with a calf. So really, I have six cows now, even though I actually have two.”

               As Ms. Buxley was listening to my long explanation, she leaned back against her desk and folded her arms as she stared thoughtfully at the ceiling lights. “The old cow analogy. It almost works.”

               “I mean, they did other tricks – without cows.”

               My face reddened as I heard two girls whispering behind me, sharing a joke at my expense between themselves. It was too late to take back my explanation, so it was all I could do to just stare ahead and bear the embarrassment. Then again, with the professor staring at the ceiling, as if waiting for a better answer, maybe I could redeem myself.

               “I understand Enron’s not a farm, so the analogy’s not perfect, but people do this kind of trick with money all the time. I mean, it’s illegal… but suppose if you had a bank and loaned one person money, then –”

               “Not Jason’s bank again,” sighed someone behind me. I felt my face flush with heated indignation.

               “The cow story will do just fine Jason, thank you,” Ms. Buxley uncrossed her arms and smoothened her suit with both hands. There was the faintest trace of a rare smile on her face, and I couldn’t tell if she thought more or less of me in that moment. “You have a good grasp on the subject. Let’s see if everyone’s on the same page… questions? Anyone?”

               “Yes, um…” a steady, faint voice came from the back corner of the classroom, and I had to twist and crane my neck to catch sight of a black-haired jock sitting as far away from the front as possible. She glanced at her textbook – a rough, battered copy filled with too many tabs – and adjusted the fit of her sports bra through her sleeveless, white shirt. “So I got a question about the quantative easement from a few pages back? Like, why did we cover that and Enron in the same day?”

               “Thanks for asking that,” Ms. Buxley pointed at her as if the jock had answered a question, rather than ask one. “I was about to get to that. Can anyone tell me what’s similar to the two subjects?” she nodded at the first upshot hand. “Jeiny?”

               “Both of them are based off of making money out of thin air,” Jeiny answered, gushing with self-satisfaciton. “While Enron fooled its investors into thinking it had more assets than it had, quantative easement is the US Federal Reserve’s policy of adding money into the economy by basically typing a few extra zeros on their computers.”

               Ms. Buxley tilted her head thoughtfully from side to side. “Basically. So that essentially brings us to the conclusion of this lecture. Has anyone figured out what it is? Not you Jeiny; you already answered once.”

               “Aw, damn,” I shook my head quietly as Ms. Buxley turned her attention to me.

               “Yes Jason? What do you think?”

               “I was hoping Jeiny would answer this one,” I chuckled nervously, glancing in Jeiny’s direction as I wondered where her new pound of weight had settled.

               “I was asking you,” Ms. Buxley replied curtly.

               “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Jeiny knows, though.”

               It was the first time I’d played dumb in class, but it was for a good cause. Hopefully it worked.

               “I do,” Jeiny smirked.

               “Alright then, what do you have for us Jeiny?”

               Inhaling slightly, she let loose with her reply. “Just because the Federal Reserve is a government entity doesn’t mean it’s immune to what happened to Enron. Whether it’s a corporation, the government, a bank, or cows, if you start flubbing your numbers up, they’re going to spiral out of control and you’ll… urp, ‘scuse me… you’ll get trapped in your own scheme.”

               “Excellent answer; I like it.”

               Jeiny smirked to herself as she tugged her shirt down past slightly-ripened breasts. I caught myself smirking too.

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Guest high

Awesome!

I liked how you touched upon QE, too. Not to get too off base, but by our country going off the gold standard and essentially being fiat currency, it's allowed the government to steal from us through the backdoor of inflation. Of course, what happens when you can just "print" your own money? Runaway spending. Unchecked, and $100 will be worth a dollar.

I just like me some economics. This way, I know when I'm getting fleeced.

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3 hours ago, Batman76 said:

Fucking great man. Like the Enron reference.

 

1 hour ago, high said:

Awesome!

I liked how you touched upon QE, too. Not to get too off base, but by our country going off the gold standard and essentially being fiat currency, it's allowed the government to steal from us through the backdoor of inflation. Of course, what happens when you can just "print" your own money? Runaway spending. Unchecked, and $100 will be worth a dollar.

I just like me some economics. This way, I know when I'm getting fleeced.

It's all an analogy for what Jason's going through 😏 He's smart enough to realize that he can use the principles of economics to run his fattening schemes, but will he ever realize that his rigging of the system through his interacting hexes might spiral out of his control? You might think I'm revealing too much right now, but I'm not! I guarantee NO one will guess what happens in the next chapter! 😄😆

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Trust me, this story's only just begun 😬😈

 

Chapter Twenty-Three

               “So what would you describe your problem as?”

               I stared up from my folded fingers at my psychiatrist as she wrote notes on every spare space on her notepad. The thought that she could be trying to intentionally diagnose me with some disorder surfaced in my consciousness once again. True, Molly seemed genuinely friendly, wearing a loose blouse matched with a white jacket and skirt that reinforced her angelic appearance, but she was a psychiatrist. She’d trained her whole career to appear friendly just so people would tell her their closest, most intimate secrets. If I wasn’t careful, she’d share my secrets with the Dean.

               “Problem? I wouldn’t say that I have a problem per se,” to appear more casual, I sipped my tea. The rim of my Styrofoam cup masked half my face in the process.

               “It’s alright Jason,” Molly looked up from her notes, smiling softly. “I can tell that you’re insecure about sharing anything personal, but you can trust me. All my notes are entirely confidential.”

               Surely, she was lying. Maybe the notes were confidential, but her conclusions weren’t. If she decided I was too mentally unstable to continue studying at Biltmore College, the Dean would know within hours, and I’d be packing my bags that very night. Even so, I couldn’t simply call her bluff; I had to play along to her game without giving too much away.

               “College life is stressful,” I shrugged. “I mentioned that before, right? But that’s not unusual, is it?”

               “Of course it is,” Molly smiled more broadly. “Stress is part of life; the important thing is how you deal with it… so what do you do to relax?”

               My thoughts raced back the last couple of days. If I wasn’t studying, I was shooting-up Nazi Zombies on my computer while listening to Austrian Screamo and German Industrial-Metal. Did that count as relaxation? It sure felt good, but I couldn’t admit that. Shit, what else did I do?

               “Sometimes I read books,” I said after a thoughtful pause. “Lots of science fiction, fantasy, stuff like that. Manga’s fun to read too; it gives me ideas for drawing stuff.”

               “So you draw?”

               “I mean, I never took a class for it, but I’ve been doing it since I was a toddler.”

               “That’s wonderful! Maybe you can take a class for art while you’re here at college.”

               “Nah, I don’t want to.”

               “Why not?”

               Because I wanted to draw violence. I wanted to draw girls in uniform, guns in hand, fighting entire platoons. I wanted to draw clashing armies in a struggle for life or death, the future of nations on the line. I wanted to draw claws, fangs, and dark shadows. I had no intention of being told to practice drawing fruits.

               “There’s just so many other classes to take. I’m concentrating on my economics major at the moment.”

               “That’s fair; maybe you can take it in your senior year; I’m sure you’d do well, being so talented.”

               “Hm.”

               Molly took a sip of her own tea, and my attention was instantly aroused. Little did she know just how fattening the tea truly was, and I eagerly watched for signs of growth. I stared at her waistline, contained by a skirt covering half her stomach, adorned with a thin, fashionable belt. Just beneath, her belly swelled slightly, pressing against her skirt and just beginning to test the strength of her belt.

               “How’s your romantic life?” she asked, staring down absentmindedly.

               “What? That question came out of nowhere.”

               “Don’t worry, it’s just part of some standard questions I ask to… flesh things out,” she scooted slightly in her seat, adjusting her ample hips, which were now becoming noticeably-thick, like a soccer mom with two children.

               “I don’t have a romantic life,” I sighed.

               “Nothing?”

               “No dating, no relationships, nothing. I just don’t fit in at this college. I don’t know why, but people tend to dislike me, so I have no friends.”

               “That’s a real shame Jason… what about Emily?”

               Alarmed, I straightened in my seat. “How do you know about her?”

               “I counsel her too, remember? You know, she talks about you.”

               “She does? What about?”

               “I can’t say. Let’s just say that she considers you a friend.”

               “Oh, that’s good,” I sighed with relief, content that my secrets were still safe. “I mean, I like her too; it’s just that I’m not sure if she feels the same way.”

               “The same way? Do you want a relationship with her?”

               The question caught me off guard. Emily certainly confided a lot in me, but somehow I’d become so distracted by my own problems and other girls that I didn’t even think of Emily romantically – at least, not since that walk on the beach…

               “I guess I wouldn’t mind that,” I admitted to Molly as much as to myself. “But what if something happens? I’ve tried asking so many girls out already, and every single one of them has turned me down for some reason or other. If I ask Emily out, I could screw up whatever friendship we have already.”

               “I understand it must be pretty hard to not succeed over and over again,” Molly jotted a note down. “But it’s good practice to keep trying. Every time a girl says no, you learn a little about yourself and others. So don’t be afraid to ask girls out; after all, the worst they can do is say no.”

               No, they could do so much worse. “I guess.”

               Molly sipped her tea again, and I could hear her growing ass rubbing against the leather seat.

 

               The sun descended beneath the forested horizon, and the clear, black sky was adorned with all the stars of a moonless night. I leaned against the wall of one of the study halls, confident that my assigned homework was thoroughly finished. That left me the rest of the evening to roam freely across campus. My objective: find alcohol.

               A fake ID was not in my Modus Operandi; nor was I a corrupt prefect that could confiscate bottles from poor Freshmen girls. I preferred simpler methods, methods that fit my personality. As a child, I roamed the woods aimlessly. Now, as an adult, I roamed the woods for beer and liquor.

               I checked my watch, noting that it was now a little past nine pm, and returned to scrolling through Instagram. Zoltan was posing her body in front of the mirror, as usual, except now she had a broad grin spread across her face. Her body was definitely shrinking, her breasts and belly deflating the fastest, but it warmed my heart to see her so joyful. It seemed only yesterday that I thought of her as just another brutal, despotic gym coach, but now that I knew her, I cared about her wellbeing – even if love was forbidden between us.

               Sun’s out, Zoltan labelled a photo of her still-swollen ass cheeks strapped into grey/black yoga pants. And you know what that means! #cuttingseason #thunderzolt

               Indeed, but not for everyone. After all, there were plenty of others to fatten up instead. Speaking of which, it was getting late. With a final check of my watch, I straightened myself from the wall and pocketed my phone. It was time to hunt for beer.

               With forty percent of the student body in sororities, Biltmore College was a land rich in alcoholic plunder, and with pledge season starting-up, the spoils would be greater than ever. Even now, from the centre of the campus, I could hear the raucous laughter of dozens of girls from the balconies and patios of mansions in all directions. Thoughtfully setting my hands into my jacket pockets, I began my evening walk.

               One by one, I passed the impressive-looking mansions, casually viewing their strange pledge rituals from afar. One sorority sounded like it was having a screaming contest, another chanted like cheerleaders. As I walked past, I noted that there were beer cans and bottles scattered all over the lawns like Easter eggs; no doubt they were all empty. I treaded onwards. The crowds here were too dense; someone would notice me hunting for drinks. I needed to find a sorority that had just finished its night of revelry – or at least, had abandoned its stash outside where I could grab it – and the perfect target lay perched on the hill just ahead.

               Past the row of sorority mansions, beyond the campus itself, the lighthouse loomed over cliffs overlooking the roaring waves below. The student body called it “the haunted lighthouse on the hill,” but for its resident sisters, it was their “castle,” with which they looked over their island. “Everything the Light Touches Is Our Queendom,” was the motto that its inhabitants, the Kappa Omegas, lived by, and they made sure everyone knew.

               Approaching the enemy terrain, I scanned the grounds with utmost care and detail: the lighthouse itself had no windows, but the two-storey house adjoining it did. It was with some mixture of relief and satisfaction that I noted that the Kappa Omega’s feasting rituals were now sealed from view behind closed doors, the only hint of merriment being the shadowy outlines of feminine forms from warmly-lit windows. A wide, wooden patio lay before the front entrance like the deck of a man-o-war, adorned with multiple grills, benched tables, half-eaten food – and two coolers. I aimed for that.

               Even as I approached the coolers, my mind raced with speculation. I would approach the coolers from the hedge ringing the patio, rather than directly, which would provide me time to hide should anyone approach. My eyes were focused and my ears were primed, ready to crouch out of sight at the slightest hint of footsteps. In the unlikely circumstance that I was caught red-handed, I would shrug and casually admit I had arrived for beer. After all, it looked like they were done with it.

               With the grace of a bomb technician, I slowly pried the closest cooler’s lid loose, acutely aware of the rustling noises my feet were making against the underbrush beneath the bushes. Some twig was snagged against my jacket, but I endured.  Then, attempting to peer inside, I sighed silently. The darkness of a moonless night was as advantageous to me as it was damning: I might be hard to see, but it was also hard for me to see. I couldn’t tell if there was beer inside. Perhaps if I fumbled my hand through the ice, I could find some spare bottles…

               A muffled thud made me jerk my hand back out. Eyes darting for the source of the noise, I caught sight of two sorority sisters running around the corner of the lighthouse, giggling while running and holding hands. Alarmed, I ducked under the hedge to keep hidden, cursing as my jacket tore against stray bramble. A mere three heartbeats later, and I caught sight of their calves from under the leaves.

               “Not here!” one of them giggled, light-hearted and giddy.

               “I don’t care,” a deeper, sultry voice replied.

               “They might see us!”

               “Let them. They’ll be jealous… now kiss me…”

               Eyes widened, I caught glimpses of two girls, one short with pixie hair, the other tall and firmly-coiled with muscle. As I watched, they embraced each other with heated passion, a bottle of Baileys in the strong one’s hand. But none of what I was witnessing registered in my mind as strongly as the fact that I recognized their voices. They were none other than the prefects that had tormented and extorted Emily as I cowered under her bed, and now I was cowering out of their sight once again!

               The tall one paused her lovemaking to take an impressively long swig of the Baileys, one arm still wrapped firmly around her lover like a victorious barbarian.

               “Brenda, are you sure?” the little pixie-cut asked. “The Empress takes first draft of the spoils.”

               Brenda sputtered some of the drink as she laughed with a full mouth. “The Empress takes first draft,” she repeated sarcastically. “What are you, some pledge schmuck? Now drink up.”

               “Okay,” the girl tittered as she grabbed the bottle and bent it towards her parting lips.

               “No!” Brenda said suddenly.

               “Hey… give it…”

               “No… kiss me. Kiss me Kristen.”

               “Okay…” Kristen whispered.

               A brief pause, and then both girls inhaled deeply as they wrapped their bodies in each others’ embrace. Hands rubbed against fabric as they slid out of shirts and jackets. Kristen stifled a moan as Brenda hoisted her by the haunches – straight into the balcony next to me. The bottle of Baileys fell by my feet, forgotten.

               My drinking instincts kicked-in, and I seized the bottle by the neck and righted it so it would stop spilling. For a brief moment, I was overcome with the thrill of triumph. Not only had I found Emily some Baileys, I had her Baileys. It was the most poetic justice I had ever witnessed, but it was short-lived.

Brenda’s brown, leather boot kicked against my fingers.

“Wait… the fuck!?”

At first, I didn’t even look up. Some lingering sense of hope remained in me that if I kept my head down, they’d think I was just a drunk sorority girl.

“Oh my gawd,” Kristen’s legs scrambled out of sight as she hurled herself behind the balcony.

“Who… what the fuck do you think you’re doing here? You fucking creep!”

Slowly, I looked up towards Brenda’s face as she seethed with rage, her breath rattling her half-naked chest. As I trembled with adrenaline and a nearly-overwhelming sense of doom, I raised the bottle of Baileys with a tight grip.

“You’re not supposed to have this,” I said meekly.

“I’m getting help,” Kristen said, hastily scrambling for the door.

Brenda, meanwhile, stared at me speechless. After a few breaths, I suddenly realized I had stumbled upon the correct answer: Brenda was underage. If I played my cards right, I had her in my grasp.

“This,” I shook the bottle. “You stole this.”

“How the fuck did you know that?”

Shit. I might have blown it. “I’m taking this. If you say anything, I’ll report you to the Dean.”

“Yeah, right!” Brenda sneered. “You think the Dean will believe you? Look around you! This is Kappa Omega! Everyone here is on my side! When I go to the Dean’s office, I’m telling her how you were jacking-off while staring into our window, and every single sister here will back my story! You’re fucking done.”

“Yeah?” I said nervously. “Well, I got your fingerprints on the bottle…”

Kristen slammed the door open, girls gushing through and swarming the patio. “There he is!” she pointed a shaking finger. “There’s the Peeping-Tom!”

They started throwing everything they had at me, screaming at the top of their lungs. A beer can hit me in the face as I scrambled free of the bushes, tumbling over myself as my jacket tore itself to shreds across the twigs. It was all I could do to sprint into the night, fumbling over every rock as I vanished into the woods.

“Run Stalker!” Brenda called over the high-pitched screaming. “Your life is over!”

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13 hours ago, Batman76 said:

There's a lot of...curves to this.

Jason gets plenty of curves thrown at him on a daily basis 🙄

10 hours ago, high said:

You're a great storyteller. I forget I'm reading..and I'm there. 

That's probably one of the best compliments I've ever got 😌

7 hours ago, scl04 said:

Well... that was an unexpected turn of events :S (I really wonder what Jason can do now, he's pretty screwed).

There isn't really a good solution to this situation, is there? Then again, there's two strategies for getting out of trouble: planning ahead and winging it. The first method failed...

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Here it is! A particular chapter that I've been daydreaming for MONTHS to write, and it's here, at last! Now the REAL story begins!

Chapter Twenty-Four

               Branches raked my face as I fled the mob behind me. Even with my heavy footsteps trampling against dead leaves and fallen twigs, I could still hear them screaming their shrill battlecry into the night sky. Were they chasing me deeper into the woods? Did they even have to? There was nowhere for me to run. My life was over…

               Blinded by the night, I tripped over an unseen log, and my face landed in a dead, twisted tangle of blackberry bramble. Thorns pricked my palms, neck, and nose as I struggled to move my legs. One of them was snagged on vines I could not see. Stifling my panting, I leaned on one elbow and looked back whence I came. The light emanating from the Kappa Omega house was completely blocked by dark pillars of tree trunks, but their distant screeching still reached me, mixing with the echoes of screeching from other sorority houses all over the island, like the calls of seagulls on the ocean.

               Just ten seconds of lying on the forest floor was all it took to let the adrenaline seep away from my system like the ocean waves I could hear from a nearby cliff, revealing the wreckage that was my consciousness. The fear, paranoia, rage, grief, and despair overwhelmed me at last, and as my hands shook from exhaustion, I lay myself on the ground and shrivelled like a drowning ant.

               The struggle was over. Months of desperation, labour, and sheer madness were coming to an end. Surely, I’d be expelled by sunrise, and then what would I do? What future does a college dropout have? Shit, what future does a peeping tom have?

               “Oh God…” I managed to gasp before the tears came. “Oh God, it’s all my fault! It’s my fault! It’s my fault…”

               And for the first time in my life, grief hit me so hard that I started laughing and crying at the same time. Trying to stifle the sobs only compounded the sadness. Who cared if they followed me here? They just had to wait for me to come back out. The Dean would be waiting for me – police too, handcuffs readied. I’d never be able to go to church with Emily, would I?

               “God,” my fingers gripped the earth. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…” But then, in a sudden moment of clarity, I remembered the one who had helped me.

               “Sucky,” I sat up, looking upwards towards the sound of creaking fir trees. “Sucky, you’ve helped me when I was alone. Are you out there?”

               The forest did not answer, but I sighed with the comfort of knowing that even if I was lost, Sucky might save me again. She had warned me to never text her, but perhaps – even now – she had left me a text with her next set of cryptic instructions. I reached back for my phone…

               Nothing. The pocket was empty, and my skin chilled with fear once again. Desperately, I fumbled through all of my pockets. My wallet was in my other back pocket, my two pens, highlighter, and spare change were in the front pockets, but my phone was gone. I checked again; how could my phone be gone? It was impossible! And yet, it was gone.

               I sat there in a state of shock and disbelief for several moments. I needed my phone! It was what connected me to Sucky and gave me the ability to measure my progress in the fattening app. Without it, I had no idea if I had a hex ready, how much weight I had saved-up, or any data whatsoever. I was fighting blind!

               “Calm down,” I muttered to myself. “When was the last time I saw it?”

               I’d used my phone while resting against one of the study halls earlier in the night. That was my last memory of touching my screen. Could I have simply placed it down somewhere nearby? Could it have somehow fallen out of my pocket without me noticing? Instinctively, I felt my empty back-pocket for holes, but there were none. It was unlikely, but I had to check anyway, or my last hope would be gone.

 

               Having emerged from the woods, clothes tattered and torn, my skin traced with red scratches, I slinked my way past well-groomed hedges, trees, and flower beds, acutely aware that I was entering the centre of campus, an open expanse of cultivated grounds ringed by various examples of neo-gothic architecture. It may have been close to 10pm, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t be spotted by someone, especially with all the streetlamps glowing over the winding walkways.

               Peeking around a birch tree, I lifted my gaze higher, past a chest-high hedge towards a secluded corner of one building. That was the spot where I’d last used my phone; if I could get over there without being seen, I could start my search, retrace my steps, and find it.

               Avoiding various streetlamps and bushes, I made my way to the corner, got on one knee, and began to search the mulch for my phone. The difficulty of searching in the darkness made me instinctively reach for my phone to use its light before cursing my own stupidity. Well, it wasn’t here anyway…

               Two figures emerged from around one corner, gear strapped over their lithe hips, and I felt my face freeze when I recognized them as campus security. This was the worst situation to be seen in: ragged, bleeding, and hunched in a corner, as if I had already caused too much trouble. Shoulders shaking, I turned back to searching for my phone, hoping to look as casual as possible.

               “I’ll talk to him,” I heard one of them say with a hushed tone before turning her attention to me. “Sir…”

               “H-hey,” I didn’t look up. “I lost my phone. C-can you…?”

               “We’re asking you to come with us,” her voice was steady and firm, as if she were talking to a crazed convict.

               “Would you be able to help me find it?”

               “The phone can wait sir; come with us please.”

               Heart pounding, I rose to my feet with stooped shoulders and followed one of the campus security guards while the other shifted position to walk behind me. I was trapped, and felt an impending sense of doom as sharp as when I first escaped the mob.

               “Where are we going?”

               “You’re just going to have a little talk with the Dean,” she used her soft, firm voice again.

 

               The Dean glowered at me from behind her mahogany desk, fingers tapping with impatience as she crossed her professional short-skirt-cased legs in her chair. I simply stood there in wonder at her perfect, well-kempt hair tied loosely behind her head with the bangs hanging free past thin, gold-rimmed glasses. It was 10pm and she still hadn’t even loosened her tie or undone a single button? Had she left the office at all?

               “Do you have any idea how much of my time you’ve wasted?”

               “No, ma’am… but I need to tell y –”

               She raised her hand and it was enough to silence me. “Just, no. Stop. Tell me why you’re here.”

               “I need to tell you why I went to that sorority house,” I said as calmly as possible.

               “So you admit being there?”

               “Yes? There’s nothing wrong with being there.”

               “How about you rephrase that,” she scowled.

               “I did nothing wrong over there,” I conceded.

               “Really?” she mocked me with her disbelief. “Because I have been told…” she opened a desk-drawer and pulled out my phone. “… a completely different story. I’ve been told that you were taking photos of my students while hiding in the bushes.”

               “That’s not what I was doing at all,” I shook my head, feeling my insides freeze and boil in a mad mixture of fear and anger.

               “So tell me what you were doing snooping around a women’s residence that didn’t belong to you?”

               It was time for me to make my final, desperate move. I never intended to get Emily in trouble, but damn it, I needed to come out of this alive! “I didn’t want to say anything, ma’am,” I hated myself for even beginning to speak. “But I need to come clean before this gets more out of hand than it already is.”

               When the only reply I received was a raised eyebrow, I mustered the courage to continue. “You see, two of those sorority sisters in there – their names are Kristen and Brenda –”

               “Yes, I know,” the Dean interrupted.

               “They’re prefects in Olds Dorm where my friend Emily lives. They broke into her room and stole all her alcohol so they could drink it all tonight.  I snuck over there to steal it back for her.”

               “Fascinating,” the Dean raised her eyebrows and nodded sarcastically. “You’d lie and throw an innocent woman under the bus to save yourself?”

               “It’s not –” I stifled mounting rage. “Why would I do that to my only friend? I’m telling you this because it’s the truth.”

               “There was no alcohol there when security showed up,” the Dean tugged one of her cuffs from out of her suit, leaned in with folded arms, and looked me in the eyes. “Now listen carefully, Jason. Are you going to tell me some story that contradicts the witness statements of every single woman in that building? Or are you going to be an adult and admit what you really did?”

               A tense moment passed, and I held my breath as I stared into her cold gaze, realizing suddenly that her pupils were nearly as jet black as her hair. My life depended on convincing her of my innocence when she clearly craved to condemn me and rid her campus of masculinity for good. What could I say that would stop her from ending my scholastic career?

               “It’s true, ma’am,” I let loose a breath. “All of what I just told you. Emily will back my story up.”

               “That’s not necessary, Jason,” the Dean tapped my phone with her fingertip. “Just unlock your phone and show me the photos.”

               I was shocked! This was my salvation, my way out of trouble for good, and yet I couldn’t do it! The Dean might just see the fattening app on my phone, and once that happened, it was over! I was at checkmate!”

               “I can’t do that,” I shook my head as I rubbed my fingers nervously. “I can’t do that, ma’am.”

               “Oh, you can’t? Could it be that there are photos on here that you don’t want me to see?”

               “I… I don’t trust you, ma’am…”

               She leaned closer. “I don’t trust you either.”

               “I know.”

               “Then show me your photos! Show me Jason! Prove that you’re innocent!”

               “I can’t,” I grimaced. “It’s not right. You don’t have a warrant…”

               She straightened in her seat and – as I stood stiffly – she rose to her feet, straightened her black, tight-fit jacket, and walked towards one of the windows. She folded her hands loosely behind herself with her back turned to me, staring out at the campus lay out before her.

               “Somehow, I knew you wouldn’t act your age,” she stated calmly. “That’s why I’ve locked the door to this office.”

               “You locked us in?”

               “The police are on their way to take you in,” she stated coldly. “They’ll be taking your phone as evidence whether you want them to or not.”

               It was really happening! It was the end of my life as a free man, and there was nothing I could do to save myself!

               Sucky, I thought desperately. I know you can hear me sometimes. If you’re there, then help me!

               “Help me,” I whispered so quietly that no one could hear. “Help…”

               Then I realized what I had to do. It was my true, final move, but I had to use it! Even if I couldn’t see the numbers on my fattening app, I knew there was a lot. I extended my index finger, pointing my Feasting Ring at the Dean, and aimed for her mouth.

               “I really didn’t want to do this, Jason,” the Dean said with a voice full of confidence and bereft of empathy. “You’re a smart kid. You really – mm – you really are. But clearly you seem to think nothing of the women around you.”

               I’d done it! A single chocolate chip, successfully materialized in the back of her throat, worth one hundred fifty pounds! It was nearly my entire savings, and it made me shiver with anticipation.

               “I suppose you’re wondering why I asked you to see your photos if I’d already called the police to do it for me…” the Dean raised a hand to her mouth to muffle what would’ve been an impressive belch. “It’s because I wanted to give you the chance to tell the truth. One more chance to do the right thing…”

               My half-crazed mind barely registered what she was saying as I stared transfixed at her skirt. As she stood, I could see curve of her ass beginning to press against the fabric, slowly defying the custom fit of her tailored suit. Slowly, it grew outward, defining itself as a curve separate from her thighs, until it began growing sideways too, filling-out her hips. Beneath, only the tops of her thighs were visible from under the skirt, but their thickening mass began to push against the skirt as well.

               When she glared back in my direction, the spell was broken; I could hear her again. “You know how much – rm – effort was put into letting you attend this school?” she turned and began walking back to her desk, pulling the sides of her suit-jacket down as she did so. “I’ll tell you what; you’ll never know what we did to let you enrol here, to have the chance to receive an education at this institution is a great privilege,” she took a seat again, notably uncomfortable with herself even as her arrogance never wavered. Every piece of clothing was rapidly filling-up, tightening with the strain of containing her slowly-expanding form. “But you squandered it all. You wasted everyone’s time. Looks like stalking women and molesting them was all you really cared about. It’s real sad –”

               A loud, muffled pop sounded just as the Dean attempted to scoot her seat closer to the desk, and from the brief expression of alarm on her face, I knew that she had just busted the zipper on the back of her skirt. I couldn’t resist speaking.

               “What was that, ma’am?”

               “Pay attention to me,” the Dean sneered, obviously frustrated with the latest developments. “You might learn something.”

               I noticed that her chest looked odd, as if the breasts were bunching-up against something. An over-taxed bra, perhaps? Would they pop over the top of the cups, or simply tear through? She didn’t look like she had trouble breathing, so they’d probably pop.

               Then again, I didn’t realize they’d actually pop out of the bra cups. With so much added mass billowing out the top, they simply rolled right out and poofed against her blouse like balloons inflating with water. The fabric around her tie strained with the pressure, no doubt the buttons beneath were pulled taught. To her credit, the Dean’s bearing was almost unfazed – almost.

               “When they finally get here…” she frowned, shifting in her seat, seams audibly struggling to hold fast. “You’ll be put under investigation for… stalking and… harassment…”

               The blouse button holding her breasts in finally popped, and I caught sight of the tops of her breasts from the new gap, her tie hiding her cleavage from my gaze. The breasts visibly pushed further out, and she began breathing more easily.

               “Turn around,” the Dean gestured me to move. But that’s exactly what I wouldn’t do. For the first time ever, I was in control. Sort of.

               “Are you alright?” I asked with a hint of concern.

               “Turn around Jason,” she put a hand on her stomach, which was contained by the buttons of her suit-jacket.

               “You don’t look so good,” I said sincerely. No point in sounding sarcastic if my intention was to convince her to unlock the door.

               “Stop…” she closed her eyes in frustration before glaring at me. “Turn. Around. Now!

               Beneath her tenderly-placed arm, her stomach gurgled like a witch’s cauldron before bursting forth a few times as her blouse buttons continued to snap. She gaped at the bowling-ball-sized belly before her for only a moment before looking back up to me, eyes wide with fury at my defiance of her.

               “We need to get you to a doctor,” I said as I stared at her straining suit-jacket buttons.

               “911 is already coming,” she said with gritted teeth. “You’re not… ugh… leaving this…”

               At last, her suit-jacket burst open. Her belly burst forth like a caged beast, leaping forward to slap and rest upon ever-widening thighs. She gasped quietly at the sight, hand hovering just over its form, afraid to touch it.

               “We need to get you out of here!” I yelled helpfully.

               But as the right side of the Dean’s skirt tore open, she hoisted herself to her feet and slammed her fists into the desk like a gorilla, prepared to fight me to keep me trapped in the office. I realized then that I had misread her. She wasn’t going to break down and concede defeat to her least favourite student, she was too wrathful a person to do so. Here before me was a woman who had built her career upon a Sith-Lord level of hatred and anger, and in a moment like this, when reality defied comprehension and reason lost meaning, her dominant feelings and instincts would be all that were left. This would be quite a fight.

               “Give me the key!” I hissed desperately, grabbing hold of the desk to face her head-on.

               “I’m not letting a stalker loose in my college!” the Dean snarled, double-chin beginning to emerge.

               “I’m not a stalker already!” I answered. “Just… where is it? The key…”

               I shuffled sideways, moving to get to her side of the mahogany desk. She shuffled likewise, belly wobbling ever-lower as her blue panties stretched taught over her wide hips. Then, in a surprise move, she positioned her widened-frame between herself and the door.

               “You’ll never get out!” she growled, wobbling slightly on inch-high pumps as her shoulder seams tore apart. “You’ll never get this key…”

               It dawned on me then that if she said “this” key, it might imply that the key was in one of her pockets – her jacket-pockets in particular. If her upper arms grew fat enough, perhaps the remains of her jacket would tear off? Probably not… which meant I had to get close.

               “Let me help you,” I bounded from the desk towards her as she readied for my impact, hands outstretched like a linebacker.

               “Stop!” she ordered, as I approached her. My hands clasped upon one pocket as I managed to keep my spry body away from her massive arms as she struggled to maintain her balance. “Get off of me – now!”

               “I need that key!” I said in frustration. “It has to be in here somewhere – oof!”

               As I bent over, my head fell within range of a surprisingly mighty blow. My head spun, I nearly fell as I heard a panicked scream, and to my surprise, it was the Dean that had fallen flat on her bulbous ass; one of her pumps had finally broke.

               “You… you can’t escape!” she grunted as she rolled herself into a crawling position, ass cheeks wobbling free in the air. “You’ll never get the key!”

               Edging back from the obese woman, I had another realization and rushed to the other side of the window.

               “Wait!” the Dean reached out, helpless to stop me. “Don’t do it! You’ll be hunted forever!”

               Twisting around, I grabbed hold of the window frame and heaved it upwards. The cool, night air brushed against my face. Ignoring the Dean’s enraged bellowing, I climbed outside to freedom.

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