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Hey all! I'm Lina, I live in the Toronto area, and I've lurked Curvage in some capacity or another since the FatCelebs days, but only recently got up the courage to work through my own body image issues to post here. I gained about 40 pounds unintentionally over the past year and a half (thanks to a combination of antidepressants and smoking a considerable amount of weed on a daily basis), and it's made me so much more confident in my body than I ever was when I was "skinny". I love gainers like Reiinapop, Azismiss, Carmen, and ACG, (and plus size models like Nadia Aboulhosn and Denise Bidot) and I'd love to have curves like theirs, so I'm going to see how thicc I can get if I'm actually *trying* to gain. I also really like it because gaining in part because of my antidepressants is kind of a visual sign that I'm getting better and feeling better - I've suffered from severe depression and anxiety for years and the medication I'm on is the first to actually work, which makes my gain as a result of it even more welcome. I feel better and more like myself than I have in a long time, and I finally feel good enough to share that with people! A little more about me: I'm turning 30 in a week (yikes!), I'm bisexual & mainly interested in women, I don't have or want a feeder (I prefer gaining on my own because I'm a bit of a hedonist), I've had a weight gain kink for pretty much as long as I can remember, and I'm a huge nerd in both the academic sense and the cosplay/sci-fi/fantasy/gaming sense, which you can probably tell from my tattoo. I took these pictures last night in an outfit that I thought of wearing to a friend's party, but soon realized that my newfound curves rendered it totally inappropriate - the top used to be too big for me and now I'm spilling out of it, the skirt doesn't cover my butt anymore, and it rides up whenever I move so it might as well be a belt (I'm actually still wearing it in the other pictures, you just can't see it under my belly chub!). I don't have a scale, but the last time I weighed myself was before Christmas (201 lbs) and I've definitely gained at least 10 lbs since then because my measurements keep going up and all of my clothes are suuuuper tight, including winter coats. I used to be a 34A and now I'm almost too big for a 36C (which is my favorite part, because I've always been flat-chested), and I've gone from a dress size 6-8 to 10-12. I've included some compares too - first pic in the green top is me at 160-ish from the end of 2013 (probably my skinniest), second one is the same outfit in March 2017 at 185-190ish. I started documenting my gain in September 2016, and since then I've gone from 180-200+ without even really trying. I'm 5'6" so it took a while for it to actually show on me, but I feel like it's obvious enough now that I'm kinda proud to share it here, hence why it's taken so long for me to get up the courage to post. I don't have a goal weight, I'm just kinda going with it and seeing how I feel as I gain, but I'm thinking 250+ is possible in the near future. I have tons more pics that I need to sort through including clothing comparisons, but I will definitely be sharing them here if there's enough interest!

Look at her backside.

My belly tonight

As well as a few other ones of her that I've found since my last post in July. Looks like there might be a couple older ones, so these aren't in chronological order. (But the ones that are would be a reverse from newest to oldest since July 17)

I was born without a face unfortunately. It kind of looks like this: 😶

Jus a few 📸

Star of “Patti Cake$” movie GMA interview:

Just a few years ago, Jessika Lima was thin and fit. In 2016, she suddenly gained a bunch of weight. One year later, she ends up winning Miss Plus Size Carioca. Age 21 (2012) Age 24 (2015) Age 25 (2016) Age 26 (2017) Instagram

A girl has grown into a woman

I like DnD. I like warrior women/sorceresses gaining weight. Easy combination! Chapter I: The Beefy Barbarian Eyes blinking, the Goddess awoke. Confusion gripped her. Her eternal flame was but an ember, the choir chanting her praises was silent, the nave filled with worshippers was vacant and the great sacrificial font was bare. Where were Her Priestesses? Where were the sacrifices? She stood up, realizing only after she had done so that she’d moved on her own power. It had been centuries since she’d been small enough for even a goddess’ muscles to support standing. Her hands, thin and dexterous instead of puffy and round, found a body starved almost to nothing. Everything felt slim and lean, the proportions smaller than before she’d ascended from being a mere demigod. Once head sized breasts were a handful, she could still pinch an inch on her belly but it was nothing compared to the ankle length apron of lard it had once been. ‘What has happened?’ the Goddess asked, voice silent as she examined her great temple. It was derelict, falling apart and abandoned. The gold statues of her at the full extent of her deific obesity were covered in dust and cobwebs and less than that remained of the paintings and texts. A thousand years must have passed since she had been conscious, enough time for her temple to fall and her great stores of power to waste away almost to nothing. She’d almost rather stay sleeping, dreaming of feasts and love making rather than awake to this. She was hungry, hungry for the food of belief and the knowledge of her own destruction. There were no signs of war but her faithful would not have abandoned her, would they? Her priestesses could not have even if they’d wanted, they were all in the half ton range anyway. Swallowing her questions, she walked, an unfamiliar motion without even the waddle she’d had. Memory struck her, memory of the time before millions of worshippers had made her vastly immobile, before she was even obese or even plump. It was of a time as a mere arch-angel, with hard muscles and lithe legs, far weaker than she’d been after ascending from a being of service and war into one of nature, harvest and love. But now she was almost as weak, barely hanging onto god hood, her form invisible to the mundane world. She found what had awoken her from her long slumber: intruders. Scores of unliving things moved in her cathedral, skeletal undead and inert constructs. Three living things were controlling them, everything about them shocked her. Evil and corrupt to the core were they, the vileness of their deeds evident in what to her was ugliness. Their bellies were so flat and hard they were hour glasses, their legs were lean and trim and their breasts didn’t even sag. Their features were painfully sharp, she recognized them as Dark Elves although rare had been any of that kind in her cathedral. Deific rage roared within her, a desire to sweep these interlopers from her holy halls! But it subsided, she wasn’t a violent goddess and even if she was, she had no power. Perhaps she could subsume them, turn the greed and lust for power evident in them into service to her….no. They were too evil and she too weak, even if she succeeded she’d be corrupted with only they as worshippers. She needed purer souls… She cast out her will, searching for chosen heroes. About her temple was only wilderness, home to trees and animals and she despaired. Then she found it, four souls. She dashed to them, finding it night outside and almost despairing again. They were all lean, all slim and lithe, almost as much as the dark elves invading her sanctum. But…but they weren’t evil and in them was a weakness she could use, to turn them to her service and let them clear her temple. Hopefully while they still could, her faithful had never been suited to action. Which one to take first? She had so very little power left to her, just enough to craft one miraculous feast to bind one to her, body and soul and with luck the gluttony and hunger would restore a bit of her godhood. But which one? If she failed, she couldn’t try again. With a soft touch she reached out, brushing the mind of the only one awake. This one was harder than any of the others physically, a mountain of muscle abhorrent to her, but her mind was weaker. Already she was hungry, desiring not just fullness but feasting. That she could do and began crafting her trap, feeling her slightly soft body lose even that minimal pudge as she did. Then she spoke, filling her mind with her name… ‘Nalara,’ Shega whispered to herself, blinking in surprise. The barbarian looked around, startled. Why had she said that? Had she said anything? ‘Damn nymph prayer has me hearing things,’ the barbarian mused to herself, standing up from the stump she sat watch on and proding the dying fire, ‘I notice she never volunteers to have the spell that makes you not need sleep cast on her.’ Shega stretched magnificently, feeling all the muscles in her 6’6 body groan, then cracked her neck, braided red hair shaking from side to side of her square face. At twenty five she was hardly an old woman, but the barbarian had found she was sore from sitting too long anymore. She paced around the fire, strong hands on her broad hips, feeling her belly gurgle. They’d run low on supplies and what she wouldn’t do for a big juicy steak. ‘Not that any weak southlander knows how to cook proper food,’ she grunted to herself, ‘its either sweets or vegetables, its why their either fat or scrawny and weak either way.’ For a moment, the towering barbarian woman considered the weakness of the southlands. She was far superior to any opponent she’d faced here, taller and stronger than any human, swifter of mind and fleeter of foot than any monster. Shega respected her three companions in questing, but none of them were a proper warrior. Jayli might have been a sorceress, but she was so scrawny Shega could snap her with one hand. Ayla had curves in abundance and her fae blood made the druid cleric a powerful caster, but she was so gentle she could barely bring herself to hurt a fly. Only Calla had any skill at fighting, being reckoned very tall and strong for her kind, but Shega had six inches and forty pounds of pure muscle on the paladin. ‘What I wish for the company of some real warriors, some of my people,’ she wished to the night sky. A snap sounded from the bushes and instantly Shega drew her battle axe, ready to fight. A deer looked back at Shega, a magnificent buck worthy of the stepps that had birthed the barbarian. She smiled, seeing twenty points on its rack and smiled harder at the animal’s body. It was rolly polly with fat and after several failed hunts had left the party only with the bland vegetables summoned up by the cleric, Shega was ready for some ready meat. ‘Easy,’ the tall woman mouthed, reaching for her javelin, ‘don’t move.’ But the deer turned around and bolted as soon as Shega grabbed the spear. Cursing, she took off after it without a second thought, dashing by the sorceress’ silk tent. There was no need to wake the others, the deer was so fat it practically waddled and Shega’s long legs took her after it with a blaze of speed. ‘Thank the gods,’ she laughed, easily spotting the deer in the dark, ‘I eat well tonight!’ Panting and sweating the deer surged, the barbarian right behind. Shega breathed easily, the long muscles of her toned legs propelling her on and on. Her deer skin boots ate up the yards, her firm breasts rising and falling evenly with each step, the round bulge of her perfect glutes straining her leather pants. The deer slowed, weaving with tiredness after barely a mile. Shega laughed, she was a Maroti, a child of the northern steppe, hard as a rock and swift as lightning! With ease she cleared a log and then followed the deer around a great oak to find…. A feasting hall. ‘What in the name of the northern gods?’ Shega asked, letting her weapons drop as she saw the great structure, easily larger than a long ship. Forgetting the vanished deer, the barbarian approached, hearing sounds of music and merriment. She pushed open a door to find over a hundred of her people gathered around a long table, great platters of roast boar and foaming tankards of mead before them. Mouth agape she stood stunned, only for the Jarless of the house to greet her. ‘Ho there wonderer!’ the woman laughed, ‘You are a stranger in these parts I take it?’ The woman was big, taller even than Shega. Ten years earlier she’d probably have rivaled the red haired woman for fitness too, but Jarls were expected to be thick to show off their riches. This woman must be a queen, for a gut four feet around strained the gold buckle of a broad belt, head sized tits overflowed their breast plate, tree trunk thighs threatened to split her seal skin leggings and her gold arm bands dug into arms thick with soft fat rather than hard muscle. Looking close, Shega realized that the fat woman was her own age and would have seemed a sibling to her were it not for the wide weight difference. ‘What…what are Maroti doing so far from home?’ Shega asked the huge woman, noticing that all of the people before her were huskily built. Young shield maidens who should have been at the height of their youthful beauty had two chins and guts that filled their laps. A veteran warrior woman of thirty years and three hundred pounds stood unsteadily, needing both arms to rise up and waddled to the privy, thighs rubbing together. Only one other person in the room was thin, a lithe priestess who danced nude over a giant pair of crossed forks at the center table. This woman was whip cord lean, her breasts small mosquito bites and her legs small enough Shega could have gotten a hand around them. Gracefully she spun and swayed, her gaze followed the barbarian with guarded eyes. ‘We’ve found a new land!’ the Jarless said, motioning Shega to a spot of honor, ‘Here the harvest comes in five times a year and every animal gives birth to triplets! Here, have a seat and take part! We’re honoring the goddess!’ Shega sat, already salivating at the food. She’d been living off of tasteless vegetables for a week and here she was now at a feast. Eagerly she filled a horn of mead and ripped the drumstick off of a turkey. The meat, from the rich muscle to the crispy skin, was heaven and the cold alcohol even better. In only a few moments eating she’d drained the drink and stripped the leg to the bone, which she threw over her shoulder for the dogs. ‘What goddess?’ she asked over a belch, as a servant refilled her horn. ‘Why Nalara!’ the Jarl boomed, ‘The Great Goddess! Giver of Harvests! Lady of Love!’ ‘Nalara!’ the hundred others boomed, then went back to eating. Shega frowned, then swallowed as she found she was half way through a slab of pork ribs, ‘I’ve heard of no such goddess, do you not mean mighty Freya or wise Sif?’ ‘Nay, they are good and great, but it is Nalara that feeds us,’ the Jarl said, cutting Shega a big slice of beef and putting it on her plate before drowning it in gravy, ‘Come now and eat!’ The thinner barbarian went to say something and found she was eating again. The steak was amazing, it had been fried in butter and was like eating a cloud. After a while it was gone and she washed it down with more mead. Her head swam and her belly was sore, she undid her weapon belt, axe falling to the ground. ‘I should go and wake my friends,’ she told the Jarl, ‘They’re sleeping and missing all this!’ ‘Let them sleep! There’s no danger in the woods!’ the Jarl laughed, putting more meat on Shega’s plate. ‘Are you sure?’ the barbarian asked, sometime later after finishing more food. ‘Oh yes, its quite safe, save for the temple!’ the Jarl boomed, refilling Shega’s horn and putting more meat on her plate. ‘Temple?’ asked Shega, before draining the mead and undoing the clasp on her pants. Usually the barbarian’s belly was a taught six pack, but right now with an ever increasing amount of food piling up in it, it was bulging out into her lap. Undoing the button helped some, but pants that had fit perfectly were now far too tight. Everything Shega wore was too tight, her legs were stuffed into her pants like sausage casings, her ass was eating her underwear, her breasts overflowed the tops of her bra and her arm bands pinched around her upper arm. But with near a gallon of mead in her, Shega was too drunk to realize it. ‘Aye, the Temple of Nalara!’ the Jarl said, ‘It’s being defiled by foul invaders! Evil elves and their undead servants!’ ‘How awful!’ Shega exclaimed, around a mouthful of cheese covered bread she couldn’t remember starting to eat and found herself undoing the laces on her leather shirt which was pinching her terribly for some reason, she took it off and sat wearing only her bra. Looking down, something seemed odd about her chest. She didn’t have a particularly large rack, but they seemed to surge over the bindings with every breathe, looking like bread dough in too small a bag. ‘You should roust them out!’ she said, looking up from the mystery of her larger chest. ‘Aye, but we are a peaceful people. Too long have we been Nalara’s faithful to remember our old ways’ the Jarl explained, patting her own rotund gut by means of explanation, ‘but you and your friends are strong, strong enough to save the goddess!’ ‘Strong? Aye, strong we are!’ Shega laughed, flexing her arm, which felt strange to her, almost as if her usually toned tricep was wobbling. ‘Will you help the Goddess then?’ asked the priestess, who stopped her dancing and leaned down to put a hand on Shega’s shoulder, ‘will you serve her, despite the burdens?’ Shega looked at her. The nude woman was less thin than she’d initially thought, indeed she was very curvaceous. Her shapely thighs were full and strong looking, coming just close to meeting at the top, her belly was mostly flat but flared into wide hips, what had looked like mosquito bites were an impressive pair of grapefruit not quite starting to sag from their own weight and she had a delicate second chin when she looked down. She was breathing a little heavier than Shega had thought too, not in quite as good of shape as the barbarian had judged. But the eyes were still haunting. ‘Oh, I’ll do more than help!’ Shega declared, vaulting upwards with intoxicated enthusiasm. It took more effort than she’d thought and a strange jiggle went through her body as she did. But the barbarian was standing up and raised one meaty arm up, holding the mead horn in her fist. ‘I swear I will free the temple of the goddess who provided this feast!’ yelled the barbarian, ‘Burdens or no! Or perish trying!’ The Priestess smiled at the barbarian, refilling her mead horn, ‘Then take this token with you, may it quench your thirst and make you strong!’ Then the well lit mead hall vanished in an eye blink. Standing alone, Shega looked around in shock, finding herself back in the woods. She looked around, realizing through a haze she’d been ensorcelled but feeling less stunned then she had been. ‘What just happened?’ she asked herself, ‘Was this the work of the gods?’ She found she was still holding the mead horn and took a sip from the quart sized container, finding it full of sweat mead. With a long gulp she drained it, only to find it refilling from the bottom up. Blinking, the half drunk woman grinned like a mad woman. ‘A god was here tonight,’ she told herself, ‘Well Nalara, I swore did I not?’ Capping the horn, the barbarian bent to retrieve her discarded weapon’s belt. Her pants bit hard into her stomach as she did so, a faint grunt escaped her mouth and then a loud rip sounded through the clearing. The barbarian flushed as she felt cold air on her cheeks, it happened time to time when you made your own clothes. ‘Really ate too much,’ Shega said to herself, going to buckle the belt on. The ends didn’t go together, stopping a full half a foot from each other. Shega strained, she was monumentally strong even without the enchanted arm rings she wore, but couldn’t for the life of her get them around her stomach. She tried sucking in her belly but it didn’t give an inch. ‘Really must have eaten too much. Good thing I only ate their one night! Imagine if I did every day,’ the barbarian laughed to herself, putting belt, axe and her shirt over her shoulder as a crude pack, ‘at least the others will believe me when I tell them of my vision!’ She started jogging back towards the camp, expecting it to take only a short time. After all, she’d only gone a mile, it should only take a few minutes. At once she knew something was wrong, her legs didn’t seem to work right. Her steps were smaller and each one brought an uncomfortable jiggle up her body. Each step brought a bounce in her chest as well, her breasts moving in ways they never had before and making her back twinge. Before long her inner thighs felt sore from chafing and her breathing was coming faster. Despite the cool night air, sweat formed on Shega’s brow and a strange pain formed in her side. ‘What’s…what’s wrong… with me?’ she gasped as she stopped a quarter of the way back to camp, bending over and trying to catch her breath, further seams breaking on her pants. A pool was near Shega and in that moment the full moon came out. The barbarian saw the reflection of a tall woman in too tight leather armor. No one would have called her weak, but soft living had put a thick layer of fat over her muscles. Steppe sharpened features had been dulled, her cheeks were soft and her once firm jaw had a double chin dangling below it. Her arms still looked strong, but were substantially thicker with jiggle beneath the triceps. Very non-athletic breasts half hung out of her cloth bra, large as a matrons and with as much perk. ‘I look like I’ve nursed five children,’ the barbarian muttered, green eyes going down her reflected figure downwards. The reason behind Shega’s non-closing belt was immediately apparent: she’d grown a hefty paunch, not as big as the phantom jarl’s huge belly but substantially wider. In the space of an evening she looked to have added at least eight inches of lard around her formerly ripped abdominals. Barely believing it, she poked a thicker finger into the heavy love handle that now hung over her pants, finding it soft as butter. ‘Its like I’ve eaten that much every night for a year,’ she told herself, patting her new gut for any trace of her old muscles and not finding them. Shega had had the legs of a long distance runner her whole life, long and so muscled they bulged. They still bulged alright, but now her thighs rubbed together and she had gone from firm calves to a nice set of cankles that stretched out her boots. Turning around she saw that the same coating of lazy lard had covered her once rock hard glutes, there was still firmness but it was buried beneath two wobbling cheeks. They bulged at the split they’d put in her britches and the rest of her pants looked ready to go at a moment’s notice. ‘I can’t even believe it, every part of me’s gone puffy’ Shega muttered to herself, ‘I must have gained fifty or sixty pounds in an hour. It seems this Goddess’ service has a hefty price after all. Can I even fight like this?’ She considered it. She was still sweaty and panting after only half a mile jog, her body unused to carrying an extra sixty pounds despite its strength. Her fabulous endurance and speed were gone, what did she have left? A woman with a gut like hers wouldn’t last long fighting. ‘Despair not champion!’ the nude woman from her vision said, appearing in the reflection, her curves seeming very lean next to Shega’s bloated body. Shega jumped in shock, her body rippling as she landed. She glared at the vision, taking a thick handful of paunch. ‘You’ve ruined me! How can I fulfill your quest like this!’ she demanded, ‘I can barely run half a mile!’ ‘You will not need to run in my service!’ the Goddess promised, ‘You will be too strong! Drink of your mead horn and see!’ The vision of Nalara vanished and Shega shrugged, obeying as she sucked down more of the sweet liquid. It burned like fire in her veins, filling her entire body with strength and verve even as her pants got a bit tighter. Shega didn’t feel an ounce of her weight, she bounced on the balls of her feet and then picked up her axe and turned it onto a dead oak, weathered hard as iron. Shega slammed the axe blade into it, watching the trunk shatter into a thousand pieces. ‘Ha, strength indeed! You are a mighty goddess!’ Shega laughed, breathing only slightly hard. ‘It will pass in but an hour,’ the Goddess appeared again next to her, a starter belly starting to bulge her mid section, ‘But merely drink again to restore yourself!’ ‘How can I thank you for this boon, my goddess?’ Shega laughed, ‘My friends will be stunned when I tell them!’ ‘Merely clear my temple and worship me,’ Narala smiled, ‘I will visit your friends by the time you return.’

be fast

Nothing beats Happy Lucy: https://clips.twitch.tv/NaivePolishedHyenaRitzMitz

That said here's Kikyo The Fallen Flower, who dwarfs even Havok and has thighs that are too big to be called tree trunks, she's gigantic and gorgeous. <3

it's seems the glory returns http://forum.phun.org/index.php?threads/jennifer-lopez-out-enjoying-lunch-in-miami-1-15-2018.2239385/

Jennifer Lopez shows off her magnificent backside in skintight Guess Jeans - Photo from Instagram (1/15/2018):

Just found a new picture of her that is pretty great. Looks like she might be filling out a little bit again, which is nice to see. Edit: Looks like it was from last fall. But still a great one of her.

And my newest dress!

Not too sure if these are recent, but nice nonetheless. Found on insta again

Nice little update on Milana! Here is a link to the gif if it isn't cooperating, since it is over 7mb.

Missing you...

Came home the other night and as my wife changed her clothes and came down to make dinner. She stood in front of me in the cutest designer long underwear pajamas. They were basically form fitting....well on her they were straight up skin tight. She said “are you ready for dinner”? She stood there with her hands reversed just above her hips softly digging to her love handles that protruded out and were accentuated a good 4 inches on each side from her hands squeezing into them.....and her protruding gut still U.K. out in front of her looking like my little honey was very much pregnant but instead it was all food and Fat in that belly....along with her massive Breasts that were snuggly trying to be contained but straining the long underwear fabric with the most Beautiful face which I can tell has certainly filled out a little lately. Yep....my gorgeous wife has started to gain some more weight lately and has seemed to be hungrier and hungrier in the last several weeks. After the big Mexican meal she made for dinner and cleared her plate like a Beautiful gaining wife....I caught her going back to the pantry all ought snacking on chocolates after she had a huge bowl of ice cream for desert already. You should have seen her Beautiful bloated gut by the time she undressed to get in the shower last night....it had me even starring with wife eyes and impressed.....so sexy, bloated and big!

Rachel is looking rather busty in this video.

I want to unzip this dress

Mickey deserved an award for how she sold her injuries to the crowd that Monday night. When she came out, she struggled to make it to the ring; Raymundo had to carry her belts for her. She talked about how thankful she was for getting the chance to compete on the biggest stage of all, and how if she had to, she would wreck herself all over again. But the medical staff in the GWE had deemed her unable to compete and defend her championships; she would need to take time off for lengthy surgeries and physical therapy. Then, and only then, would she walk back out and reclaim her titles. It was all scripted, of course, but only a few people backstage were privy to the truth; even the locker room was convinced. La Princesa Violenta was showered with well wishes, apologies, and praise for being so tough. The girls were especially compassionate, right down to the normally stoic Shinobu, who broke into tears when she thought she had gone overboard; Mickey almost let the truth out just so the poor girl would not feel so bad. Only one woman in the locker room brushed her off, and that was Sadie Storme. This was to be expected: the two had been engaged in an on-off feud for years, ever since they were in developmental, and unlike most feuds, which were just an act, their heat was very real. It all stemmed from one of their earliest matches together, when the ever-stiff Sadie had broken two of Mickey’s ribs without so much as an apology; in return, when she came back, the punk returned the favor by legitimately breaking the brawler’s ankle in a folding chair. Ever since those fateful bouts, the two had constantly tried to beat the holy hell out of each other, as if they were living in a cat and mouse cartoon. “Admit it, Sado,” Mickey called out to the blonde brute, “you’re going to miss me when I’m gone.” Sadie turned her nose up as she laced her sky blue boots. “I’ll only miss getting the chance to killing you on live TV. So, in that case, get well soon or whatever.” “Love you too, bitch.” As soon as she bid farewell to everyone, Mickey hobbled along as if going out to her car, but once Ray and she were far enough away, they made for an office in the stadium. Standing in the room were the Ericsons: Dave; his son, Lane; his daughter, Amanda; her husband, Triple Threat. The top physician on staff, Dr. Nancy du Pont, was at the head of the pack. Nancy, an older woman in her fifties, waved to Mickey as the young athlete strode into the office. “Hey there, Mickey. Heck of a performance out there; I haven’t seen that many sad fans since Blade had to retire early.” “That’s just what I do,” the former champion shrugged. “And I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t get the piss kicked out of me.” “Well, not for a year now. We’ll get some base measurements so we have something to go off of, and then we’ll discuss some diet and exercise plans you can follow. Hop up on the scale and we’ll get started.” Mickey shed her boots, leather jacket, and studded belt before stepping onto the digital scale. The numbers flickered for a moment before solidifying into a very visible ‘125 lbs’. After plugging the numbers into a tablet, Nancy told the eager wrestler, “All righty, Mick, that’s good. Let’s get your height checked out now.” The two walked over to a measuring stick by the wall while the onlookers conversed among themselves. Amanda Ericson turned to Ray and remarked in a stern voice, “I seriously can’t believe you two are going ahead with this plan. Do you have any idea what that’s going to do to my Women’s Division?” “It’ll give some of your other ladies a chance to shine,” Ray answered with barely a passing glance to his boss. Amanda was the commissioner of War, the GWF’s Monday night program, and for all her talk of doing what was best for business, it was clear that she had her favorites. Sadie Storme was one of the biggest bullies behind the scenes and stiffest workers, but because she sucked up to management, she was a perennial golden girl. Were it not for Mickey's ability to draw in a crowd, his girlfriend would likely never have made it. “Yeah, well, let’s hope that your little experiment pays off,” Triple Threat grunted as he furrowed his brow. Once a major player in the company, Levi Hunter was now a part-time wrestler, full-time manager of the War brand, which meant he still got plenty of time on TV. The burly brute towered over almost everyone in the room and wore a suit that barely contained his hulking muscles. He cut the most imposing figure in meetings, considering that any other retired wrestler still with the company was older and out of shape. The Latino manager narrowed his gaze at Triple Threat, knowing full well all the dirty tricks the man kept in his pocket. There was a reason why fans believed Levi had a golden shovel in his office, and it was not because he had used it to break ground. Ray turned his attention back to Mickey and replied, “So long as you don’t bury her right out of the gate, we’ll be aces.” Nancy interrupted the conversation with her announcement of Mickey's height. “Right now, Mickey is at a solid five feet, seven inches.” “All bad-ass,” the punk girl quipped as she stepped away from the wall. “Now for the boring stuff, right?” “It’ll only take a moment,” the physician reassured her. “I can’t do everything I need here, so for now, we’ll just check your blood pressure, draw some blood; all the stuff that doesn’t come up on your billing.” Mickey walked over to a bench to get the technical work over with, and the conversing resumed. The only positive voice was Lane Ericson, Amanda’s older brother and commissioner of Tuesday Night Madhouse. He was just a couple years into his fifties and remained quite fit for someone who did not actively wrestle, but he already had a full head of gray hair. On top of that, outside of Mickey and Nancy, he was the only one not dressed up; he opted for a polo shirt, a pair of decent jeans, and some basketball shoes. “Hey, I think it’s a great idea,” the fatherly man remarked. “I still remember one of the earliest shows I ever attended, where ‘Hog Wild’ Ramone went up against King Hank for the Superheavyweight title. It was amazing as a kid to see these behemoths go up against each other, like a rhino and a hippo having a stand-off.” His father grunted as he crossed his arms. “It was a mockery of the sport, and the first thing to go when I took charge of the company.” Lane rolled his eyes before continuing. “If you guys weren’t already signed to War, I’d have brought you over to Madhouse in a heartbeat.” “You might just get her when this is over,” Amanda huffed. “When this experiment falls apart and she has to go back to developmental, I’ll be damned if I have her on my show again. Assuming she ever manages to lose all the weight she gains, that is.” “Kind of a negative attitude you’ve got there, boss lady; you’re acting like I’ve already thrown in the towel. Not very inspirational,” Mickey remarked as she walked over to the group, a fresh bandage on her arm from where Nancy had drawn blood. Ray clapped his hands to try and keep the two from going at it as they had done in the past. “All right, it’s been a long night, but we’re almost done. Now we just need to get some ‘before’ photos and we’ll officially start this whole crazy year!” While Amanda gave the stink-eye to her least favorite employee, the group adjusted so they were facing the far wall of the room, where a make-shift photo shoot was set up. Ray went behind the camera and beckoned for Mickey to step out in front of the white sheet. The punk princess strut out in front of the group and composed herself. For this last show before her break began, the all-star wrestler wore a pair of blue and black tights and a matching sports bra; she completed the look by lacing up her boots and strapping on her spiked belt. She threw her black hair back and shook it out into a wilder look rather than the tidied appearance she had for her announcement. “All right, princesa, just do your thing,” the stout manager said as he started snapping pictures. Mickey smirked as she knelt to one side and flexed, flaunting biceps that were tight and powerful. She chuckled as she remarked, “Can’t wait to see these pythons go to pot. I’m gonna have the biggest arms in wrestling, ‘cept for the fact they’ll be big ol’ bingo wings.” The jokes earned at least one audible groan from Amanda, while the rest shook their heads in disgust and, in Lane’s part, mirth. And there were more to come, as every pose seemed to elicit some quip from Mickey about how her gain would impact it. “When we bring back the belt, Dave, you’re going to want it extra-wide; something tells me the normal belts won’t fit around my hips by then.” “I might have to work on my leg drops for my return, because I’m picturing them being big as my waist right about now. Can you imagine me coming down on someone with that much power?” “Guess I’ll need to upgrade my wardrobe too, because I’m pretty sure this stuff will tear the second I try and slide it on.” Dave coughed as he stepped up to Ray and grunted, “Are we about done with this farce? I’ve got to make plans for tomorrow, and they don’t include throwing away good talent.” “Just need to get a couple more pictures, and we’ll be good to go,” the cameraman replied. Mickey looked out to the group and said, “Hey, I’ve got an idea. How about we get the last couple with me and Amanda? Get a little comparison going on between the two of us.” All eyes fell on the Little Rich Girl, who shrugged her shoulders and shucked off her jacket. “I’d love to, if only so I can make a point of how stupid this is.” When she sauntered out in front of the white screen, arms bare and ample cleavage exposed, Ray returned to snapping pictures. Amanda was a few years past forty and not a wrestler, but she could have fooled anyone with her physique; she looked like she could easily go for a while in the squared circle. Her flexed biceps were even thicker than Mickey’s and, though her skirt hid them, she had powerful legs befitting one of the top women in the industry. She also had sizeable breasts that were not entirely natural, but no one was going to say that to her face. As they posed for the camera with a flex-off and standing back to back, the boss whispered to Mickey, “I can’t emphasize how much I think this is worthless.” “Pretty sure you’ve made that quite clear, but enlighten me,” the punk retorted with a roll of her eyes. “We’ve set you on top of the world, and you’re going to throw that away just to be, what, a gimmick act? You must have hit your head harder than I thought, because you’re not that stupid.” Mickey sneered as they turned to face each other, with the wrestler having to look up into her boss’s eyes, thanks to Amanda’s staggering heels. “The only thing that’s stupid is sitting on something that could net you a new audience and some increased exposure.” “You know why we did away with the Superheavyweight Championship?” asked Amanda as she tried her best to assert her authority over the punk. “The same reason we did away with midget wrestling, mud wrestling, and sumo wrestling: no one wants to watch it; all the audience sees is a joke, a comedy act. We finally have a respectable business, and you trying to do this only jeopardizes everything we’ve worked for.” The comment made Mickey’s eye twitch, as it was just like management to blame any faults in the company on the wrestlers. She stood up to her boss and furrowed her brow as she replied, “The only reason those were perceived as a joke is because you wrote them as such. You want people to take this stuff seriously? Give the same care and attention you do to the rest of your roster, and the audience will come.” The two continued to have a stare-off until Ray announced he was finished, at which point both ladies donned their jackets and rejoined their significant others. An awkward silence hung between the group until Lane broke it by saying, “Well, it’s been a long night, and I think we should all break.” “Agreed,” Dave nodded as he adjusted his suit. He looked to Mickey with a stern gaze and told her, “Remember, I want weekly updates and quarterly check-ins; the second you slip, we’re squashing this angle.” “You got it, chief,” the punk girl replied with a mock salute. As he left the room, Amanda and Triple Threat made their goodbyes. The Little Rich Girl fixed her eyes on Mickey and told her, “Remember what I said, Ramone. Think about what you’re going to do to this company.” “I’ll reconsider this as soon as you stop feeding prospective talent to your husband,” was Mickey’s retort. The power couple left with hateful glares, and right behind them was Nancy. She watched as they left and shook her head. “Some people just can’t be civil.” “Eh, I’m used to it from them,” Mickey shrugged. She pat the physician on the shoulder and told her, “Thanks for everything tonight, Nance.” Nancy smiled and said, “You’re welcome, Mickey. And just between you and me, I think this sounds like a cool angle. I’ll be looking forward to working with you on it.” When she left the room with her tools, it left Lane with Team Ramone. The fatherly man cracked his neck from side to side before asking, “So, who wants to get something to eat? I know a great all-night diner not too far from here.” Ray and Mickey shared a look before the wrestler nodded eagerly. “Lead the way, Lane.” *** The end of the night found the duo sitting in a booth at a retro-styled diner with checker-pattern floors, shiny wood furnishings all over, and a refurbished jukebox spewing golden oldies. Lane had to leave almost as soon as they arrived; something about tomorrow night’s Madhouse. He apologized but promised to pay for their dinner, as well as visit them next time he were heading out to New Mexico. As she listened to Nat King Cole croon, Mickey dipped a steak fry into the last of her chocolate milkshake and took a big bite out of it. She let out a warm sigh of content as she leaned back in her seat and rubbed her stomach. The punk girl looked to her boyfriend and told him, “I can’t think of the last time I was able to eat like this, especially after a show. And I get to eat like this for an entire year? God, I should have pitched them this idea ages ago!” “It’s not all going to be meals on the boss’s dime, babe,” Ray reminded the girl. “We’re going to do a lot of cooking from home; don’t worry, I’ve been looking up some new recipes. On top of that, we’re going to have to follow a strict schedule so we’ll be able to meet your goal weight in time. Put simply, you won’t be eating for pleasure or sustenance; it’s going to be a challenge, just like exercising.” She waved off the naysaying with another steak fry, this one doused in ketchup. “We can worry about that tomorrow; tonight, we’re going to celebrate the first night of our new routine.” He looked down at his own meal, a modest chicken sandwich with coleslaw on the side, and chuckled, “Yeah, I guess we should just take it easy.” “Exactly! So let’s worry about all the work it’s going to take some other time,” Mickey grinned as she reached her foot out under the table and rubbed Ray’s shin. “Because after we get back to the hotel, I am going to show you how grateful I am for making this happen…”

I think I can still lean on my old, stock response.

That bath was hot !

In case that's not dry sarcasm....

Hu's a first? I don't know.....nor do I give a damn.

OK, I've added a fair bit of poundage in this one. Notice her bigger hips, as well as a considerably fatter belly with obvious fuller underwear that is under stress. I think at this weight, Taytay's belly will be hanging considerably lower than this morph suggests and she will be looking even more delicious. I estimate this weight gain to be roughly 30 to 35 pounds, but am very interested to hear everyone's opinions on this. Taytay, what do you think?

Don't you wish your investments were growing as nicely as she is?

Had an experience worth sharing yesterday. Met up with a girl from an online dating app for coffee. She looked cute and active in her profile pictures, but it was immediately apparent she was heavier than the pictures would suggest—definitely a puffier face with a bit of a double chin at any rate. Over the course of the date an interesting story emerged. Talking about hobbies, she said she had played soccer for 15 years and used to play 3-4 times a week. After getting injured, she had given that up and had tried a bunch of different things (ice hockey, ultimate frisbee, the latest being some kind of Russian weight-training program). Later she mentioned she had a smart watch, but only looked at it to get the time, ignoring it when it told her she hadn't moved that day. Finally, towards the end of the two-hour date, I realized even though we were sitting inside, her heavy coat and scarf had remained on the whole time. She even asked whether we should sit inside or outside (it was not a comfortable temperature for sitting outdoors) when we got to the cafe. The fact that she was wearing leggings completed the story: this girl had gained a bunch of weight. After giving up her primary active hobby, her more sedentary lifestyle combined with the slowing metabolism of someone in their late 20s had her packing on the pounds. She moved, and now instead of walking a mile each way to work, she takes her scooter. She set up her smart watch to help her be more active, but is too lazy to follow through even when she's outgrown everything she owns except leggings. Knowing she's let herself go, she uses old pictures on her profile and makes sure to keep a coat on during a first date. I hate dating, but these little examples of cute girls struggling with their weight are a nice silver lining.

How about we dont do any of that.

📸🙊

Chapter 8 conclusionRedressing, they were escorted into a large chamber. Once their eyes became accustomed to the low light; they could see the room was full of women and the armed guards. They were all of North American or European extraction, and also all very fat, but not as fat as the newest arrivals. The ones they could understand had questions regarding the outside world. It was apparent that some had been here for years. They brought a large trolley of fattening foods, and despite their fear, the two women ate every morsel. The resident women even hand fed them the last, giggling at their capacity and enthusiasm. One women, who looked to be about three hundred pounds, said it took her a year to be able to eat that much.They were shown to their bedchamber and curled up together for their last night, while the guards watched their every move for signs of impropriety.While they were cuddled up Tracy looked up and said, “Is anyone watching?” “No.” was the reply. “Good” she said and reached into her mouth. She appeared to pull out one of her teeth. She then crushed it in her mouth and swallowed the fragments. “Tomorrow is the day!” she said.” No matter what, stay with me!”Dawn rose and Christie became acutely depressed. She would be leaving in a matter of hours and would never see Tracy again.She needed to talk to her. “Tracy, I know what you did was horrible. I also know you did it to save your brother. You need to know I forgive you. If you had asked me to do this voluntarily I would do it. You were right about me. I do love you and will never forget you.”“Play your cards right and you may not have to. No time to explain. Just follow my lead.”Just then breakfast arrived. It was even more food than the night before. Just as then, the recent arrivals were pampered and hand fed every morsel. Fully sated; the two women were led to a bath chamber, where they were gently bathed and rubbed with scented oils and sprinkled with perfume. Tracy said, “If it wasn’t for what was to follow, I could get used to this.”Christie agreed. She was lying on her massive stomach, getting a massage and nearly asleep, purring in contentment. The women treated her to a few henna tattoos, and wound some gold braid and jewels into her hair. A few rings adorned her toes and fingers as well. Ankle and wrist bracelets completed the accessories. As a finishing touch, they sprinkled her with a gold-flecked powder. She suspected it contained real gold. It seems they regarded her as a special treat, which in fact she was.Reality came in the form of their new clothing, a complete set of harem garb for each.“Could this get any more cliché?” Tracy laughed, scornfully.It was a struggle to get the huge women into the costumes. Tracy’s fit ok, but she needed help to do up all the fasteners. Once inside, she looked at herself. The heavy bra, cut just above the nipples, emphasized her massive bosom, lifting it up and out, revealing a huge cleavage. The bottoms flattered her growing posterior, just barely hidden by the sheer overpants. Christie giggled, “You look like Barbara Eden in I Dream of Genie”.Tracy looked over replying sarcastically, “Really? Well, look at yourself dear. You look like you ate I Dream of Genie, and Major Healy and Tony as well”Christie had needed help to squeeze into the tiny outfit. Getting the bra on had required two women to lift each breast into position, and two to fasten the strap. She couldn’t balance on one leg anymore, so she had stood with legs apart, while the women wrapped the pants and overpants under her crotch and around her lower half.The ensemble was a bit too small, understandable, considering how little time Ali had to gather everything. Despite the fact that the bottoms were full cut, they stretched tight across her massive derriere, and only covered about ¼ of each cheek. It looked more like a thong! She had gone braless for weeks now, and the bra top made a profound change in her silhouette. The heavily reinforced garment heaved her massive bosoms up and outward, revealing all above, except the nipples. Undisguised by her breasts, her engorged belly now stood out for all to see. The over pants were so tight, the slits down the side allowed her massive thighs to escape in spots. The women wrapped a long sheer shawl over her shoulders and around her arms. They used the ends to help lead her outside. As she walked; ponderously putting one foot carefully in front of the other, the globes of her ass jiggled like jelly and moved side to side. Her huge belly wiggled up and down in rhythm and the tops of her breasts threatened to burst out of the ill-fitting top. It was a magnificent spectacle! They were led onto the beach, as a large yacht approached. It stopped offshore and a small launch headed inland. It was about 2 miles off shore, when suddenly; both it and the yacht erupted in sheets of flame. Within seconds, both were smoldering and sinking ruins.Everyone stood transfixed, and Tracy said “Get down!” They hit the sand as fast as their bulk allowed.“What is happening?” Christie inquired. “Just wait.” was the only reply.Suddenly the shallow water on the beach flanks erupted with men. Obviously, Navy SEALs had been skulking in the water, waiting for the signal. Two or three of the guards put up a fight, with fatal consequences to them. In less than a minute it was all over. The soldiers ran over the immediate area rounding up everyone, male and female. The men were herded off toward the water’s edge to await helicopters; now coming over the horizon.An officer came running towards them and looked both women over. “Tracy?” he asked, “Is that really you? I didn’t recognize you. What happened? This wasn’t in the plan.”“Long story”, she said still lying on the sand. He pulled off his ski mask and Christie recognized the man as Franco. Before she could ask, Tracy said, “Yes he really is my brother. He is actually the one who cooked up this elaborate scheme.”Christie was confused again. “What…I think I need a moment to collect myself. This is all too much for me.”“Okay” Franco said. “The plot to catch Ali was just a ruse. We were on to him months ago. By the way, we caught up to him this morning. You won’t hear from him again.”“He won’t be missed, I imagine,” said Christie. “So what was this all about, then?” “We were after his customer. He had very specific tastes, and you fit the bill nicely.” “Sorry, but you were the bait in a double trap. I imagine Tracy played along with Ali, letting him think he had won, despite the fact he had sprung the trap early.” This was confirmed by Tracy’s nod of agreement.Tracy said, "I know I lied to you, but once they took us, I was committed. I had to make the act look believable. These people are ruthless. If they thought for a moment we were on to them and that Ali's customer was in danger; we would have just disappeared without a trace."“But how did you locate us?” Christie inquired.“That was easy”, said Franco. “We’ve known every second where you were since day one, in case you had second thoughts and tried to escape. Remember that needle in the butt? It wasn’t a malaria shot. It was a microchip.”“A tracking device?” asked Christie.“Yep. We knew where you were, but needed to know when and where to spring the trap.”“Oh I get it now.” Christie remembered the events from last evening. “Tracy’s tooth!” “That’s it. It sent out a signal last night that we were at the expected rendezvous.”“All we needed to do then; was set up the aircraft to drop guided munitions on our friends out there.”“So who was that?” Christie asked.“Don’t know myself”, he said. “Whole thing is very hush-hush. Rumor has is he was in the top ten of Al-Qaeda’s most wanted. Anyway, the guards and administration will have lots to tell us if they want to live.”Franco looked at his sister and said, “I have something else to tell you. You won’t like it. You and your friends will have to hide out for awhile. Maybe a year. If word of this got out to the media, during an election campaign, there would be hell to pay. We can take you just about anywhere, except the US. Where would you like to go?” “Give me a moment. Help me up, please”, Christie said. Once they pulled her to her feet, she went over to the twenty odd girls huddled together on the beach and had a short conversation. They all nodded in unison.She questioned, "If you can get some reliable people here to provide for our needs and security, can we stay here? We would need proper food as well and plenty of it. Once the coast is clear, you get us all home."“Deal!” said Franco. “How about you sis?” “We are together, she stays I stay.” She reached over, took Christie’s hands and gave her a passionate kiss on the lips-hard.“Only, one more thing. Do you thing you could get mom to come for a visit? Tell her to bring her appetite, pack light and keep an open mind.”Rubbing her rumbling belly, Christie added, “Come on handsome! Help me find the kitchen. I haven’t eaten for over an hour, and I’m starving!”The end

I've kept all of my clothes small clothes and put them in bins, I like to try them on sometimes. Smallest pants are probably a 4, and I'm a 10 now so its fun to see if I can get them on, its a struggle but I usually can, hard to button tho. I like trying on the old crop tops cause my belly hangs out. One dress I wore to a wedding years ago completely ripped when I put it on, but it was even tight when I was skinny. I like the tight spandexy dresses I used to wear. When I go actually go out however, I wear clothes that fit me well. I've only been out wearing a tiny shirt once, and it was thrilling, but I was not anywhere near my home town so thats why I had the balls to do it. a particular fantasy is me like, 100 lbs fatter out at a trendy restaurant wearing my tiniest clothes with a hot, fit guy and I'm eating like a real piggy....and hes like

Heres one more from the other day when i tried on a size small at the mall 😅😅😬

Every bite of this dinner makes my belly expand with that buttery cheesy goodness…but I wasn't able to finish it entirely... ...so I decided to inflate on top of that dinner as well . And this was the result, from 31 inches to over 35- inches! I love how round my belly looks when I'm inflated -on top off a stuffing <3

I can't get enough from her, what are you thinking about her? I want her not only chubby, i want her big and bigger, you too?

Look at her back today and two years ago.

Its only the start, the next pounds are coming.

SheGotFat, I think you’ve raised a very interesting subject. It’s something I’ve thought about before, and, like you, I’ve also wondered how many (or how few) might feel similarly even within our own little pervy FA community. Since it seems to me that we may share similar kinks—and because my experience has been that this subject is rarely discussed openly, even in nominally “safe” places like Curvage—against my better judgement, I’m going to offer a long (too long?) response to your question. I feel like there are two distinct components to my erotic FA interests. One component is that I have an aesthetic preference for curvier female physiques. While not amenable to clear boundaries, I’d say my aesthetic preference runs on the lighter side relative to “average” FA standards. The other component is an attraction to weight gain itself, for its transformative effects. I like the way it makes a gal softer, heavier, and gradually alters the contours of her figure and the shape of her face. I like the way it impacts the fit of her clothes. I like the way it changes how she moves. I like the way it can affect what sort of activities she chooses to do, and what sort activities she CAN do. I like the way it changes how others perceive her, and perhaps how she perceives herself. Most directly related to your query about schadenfreude, a lot of my interest in weight gain leans towards its potential for “destructive” transformation. I’m fascinated by all the “negatives” associated with it. I’m talking about decreased conventional physical attractiveness, diminished strength, stamina, agility and coordination, inability to maintain a preferred fashion, weakened willpower, overindulged appetites, self-loathing, shame, humiliation, and sneering public contempt. It’s all just so deliciously taboo. Also, I think there’s a very strong dom-sub undercurrent to the whole destructive weight gain aspect. Much of it, I feel, is tied to indicia of power and control. Very similar to what you described for yourself, what I most enjoy seeing in this regard is a slim, fit, attractive, popular, confident, and self-reliant babe gradually, inexorably become a soft, lazy, awkward, laughably out-of-shape, humiliated, dependent, dumpy little butterball. I love seeing a gal’s “best” features turn into her worst problems, her strengths become weaknesses. I love seeing her struggle to manage things that were once taken for granted as effortlessly easy. I love seeing her knocked down a peg for every notch she’s compelled to let out on her belts. And, critically, I prefer that all of this happen unintentionally and unwillingly. Loss of control, status, and power—all tied, at least in some vague collective public perception, to that simple, shameful moral failure of not being able to manage her appetite and level of activity. Naturally, the more “perfect” the gal is at the outset, the more erotically appealing I find all of this destructive transformation. The higher the pedestal upon which that Ming vase is set, the more satisfying will be the crash once it’s nudged over the edge. Because my interests have these two components, things can appeal to me in different ways depending upon how these components do or do not overlap. For example, I may find a chubby gal very attractive on an aesthetic level, without any real weight gain aspect to the situation. Alternatively, there can be overlap, such as when a gal I find aesthetically attractive also happens to be gaining weight. Finally, even when weight gain progresses beyond what I find aesthetically appealing, it still may intrigue me for the appeal of the effects of the weight gain itself. Even when a gal gets “too fat” for me, I can still find myself erotically captivated by the spectacle of a proverbial weight gain train wreck. Heck, I’d go so far as to say becoming “too fat” for my aesthetic preference is actually one of the key, obligatory boxes to check on the list of destructive weight gain milestones. Over the years, I’ve realized that this interest in destructive weight gain is primarily just a fantasy. I’ve found that exactly because it IS so negative, destructive, and unwanted as an inherent part of its appeal, I cannot in fact wish that sort of thing upon anyone I am in a relationship with or about whom I care. My empathetic feelings for the people close to me just steamroll and kill that particular kinky inclination. However, as a fantasy, it remains very, very appealing to me—a fact for which I make no apologies. I’m also certainly not above indulging myself by enjoying actual examples of this sort of thing in folks that I perhaps only know by casual acquaintance or have merely learned of via second- or third-hand information. If you’d like to discuss any of this stuff in more detail, or even just share “war stories,” feel free to send me a personal message. It’s always nice to find another kinkily kindred spirit.