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About SquidgeWizard

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  1. This is a darker supernatural weight gain story. I apologise in advance for the lack of proper grammar or coherent tense, this is my first story 😕 PROLOGUE: THE FAT FLAT WITCH The block of council flats rose out the concrete jungle like a pimple, forever making its’ presence known through the brutal discordant racket of the inhabitants. The occult detective approached the chaos unperturbed. Slipping through the front door without effort, he banked left and up the staircase, bracing himself for the uncomfortable noise of everyday life, intensified by the curse blanketing the area. The vague, volatile arguments of floor six’s occupants were louder than the rest of the estate by a margin. Thankful for his earplugs, the diminutive detective carried onward towards the end of the corridor, to the door vibrating in a frequency few could perceive. Before he could knock, it swung open by its own accord. Despite his age, the young man had seen too many bizarre occurrences, and caused too many, to be fazed by it in the slightest. Though it still took him a moment to edge through the doorway into the flat beyond. While the world outside was messy and loud, the flat was eerily silent and minimalistic. The detective gently shut the door, removed the plugs and adjusted his hooded jacket as he followed the hallway into the lounge. The décor remained sparse except for an overabundance of candles clustered over what little furniture and shelving was present. A nightmare for any safety inspector, but an enhancement to any illusion happened to be cast. “I’d thought they’d send someone older” purred a statuesque brunette, who raised herself out the shadowy corner armchair and into the candlelight. She was stark naked. “I’m almost a little insulted, you must be what, 19?!” she giggled, trying to draw attention to her pert breasts as they bounced slightly by squeezing her arms inward and pushing out her chest. “23, Ms Cabot. My name’s Henry. Could you please not stand so closely to my right, it’s mildly unnerving” The illusion dispersed. The tall, lithe stunner evaporated, and a flabby, angry, middle aged woman materialised beside him. Equally naked. Shocked for an instant, the detective was almost caught by the knife swung aggressively at his head, but swerved out of range and hopped to the other end of the room; awaiting another attack by channeling his mana through his slender arms. The attack came almost immediately. Henry deftly deflected the knife, which had been launched telekinetically at his head, into a painting to his right. The two combatants circled each other. Ms Cabot seemed tired already. Her large breasts continued to heave upwards and then settle just over the bottom of her ribcage, which had been buried under blubber via decades of being an overindulgent homebody. Her thick legs and globular arse jiggled with every motion she made. She wouldn’t be able to keep up him if she tried, so Henry assumed a ranged approach would be the only way she could effectively attack him. He assumed correctly. Threads of oily gunk began rapidly squirting out the witch’s palms, and once they reached a metre in length Ms Cabot swung her soft arms across her chest to snap the threads like two razor wire whips. Whips steadily increasing in length, and therefore reach. Most sorcerers would have begun to panic about the increasingly restrictive environment, but not Henry. He danced between each lethal whip crack, then unleashed small bursts of concussive force from his extended index and middle finger when he became cornered to snap the threads back towards their user. This continued until Ms Cabot’s whips converged upon the corner armchair Henry had perched on…and entangled them within its thick wooden frame. It only cost her a second, but one she couldn’t afford. Before her whips had been brought under control, the young occult detective had closed the distance, digging his index and pinkie finger into a love handle. A small bolt of electricity connected the digits. Ms Cabot shook, jiggled and collapsed. Not waiting for her to stand, Henry tore what looked like a circular ink stamp from the inside of his jacket and pinned the older, larger woman to the ground with a twist of her arm. Skilfully popping the lid off the stamp he brought it down hard between her shoulder blades. Ms Cabot let out a quick shriek as the soul seal activated. Ink diffused through the witch’s skin, first as a singular blot before separating and etching an intricate web of sigils around her entire torso. The process took several nervous seconds to complete. Henry tried to ignore the fact he was straddling a completely naked woman nearly old enough to be his mother. That said woman’s body was gently rippling underneath him from her exhausted panting… Or his growing compulsion to grab a handful of her flabby sides that were oozing around his legs every time she breathed out. Brusquely getting up, Henry slipped a letter out his jacket and placed it aside the still shattered Ms Cabot, who slowly twisted her head to look at the envelope, cellulite ridden butt still jutting towards the ceiling. The 39 year old rolled clumsily onto her back and sat up, grunting in the effort. Her gut flopped over her crotch and bulged out onto her chunky thighs. Sitting down, her belly apron was squashed into a globe of flab which made her look 6 months pregnant. Henry tore his eyes away and struggled to focus on the task at hand. “Ms Margaret Cabot, for offences including: illicit pathokinesis of the inhabitants of your place of residence, strictly prohibited bodily modification of two women from the local university…and attempted murder of a government official, your soul has been sealed. You will no longer be able to access your mana until permitted by O.S.C.U.” Wanting to leave and burn the experience from his memory, the occult detective swivelled on his heels and paced across the lounge towards the door. A snigger Henry stopped in his tracks. “She was right about you, little detective! Did you enjoy gawking at my big, heavy tits as they flopped about?! Or how my tubby thighs are so thick I had to waddle around our little play-area? I could feel your excitement straddling such a fat cow…did you like how my globular ass pinned me to the floor, and how I wobbled like jelly under you?!” A slap snapped Henry’s gaze from the door to the defeated witch. She stuck out and slapped her colossal butt again for emphasis, causing a cascade of ripples throughout her corpulent body. Her cheeks bounced lazily, like two beach balls filled with cake mix, protruding out like a shelf behind her. “Who was right about me?” Henry hissed. He felt frozen. He wanted desperately to leave but he NEEDED to know more. His desperation felt unnatural to him. Why was he so transfixed? Was it some vapour from the candles? “You’ll find out soon!” Cabot paused for a second before turning round and groping her belly, lifting it up so it stuck straight out in front of her, “And it’s a massive, bulbous tummy like this one that you’ll ultimately worship in the end, not your precious O.S.C.U!” She rubbed her rounded gut and moaned unnaturally. Her paunch seemed to expand after every breath, swelling out past her fat udders and wobbling as it went. If it had looked 6 months pregnant before, it was now months overdue, but still completely soft and doughy. “You’re going make such an adorable little traitor Henry…and your erection tells me you can’t deny that!” Margaret leaned forward, her now obviously larger belly dragging her down onto all fours. Despite having no access to her own magic, something was causing the witch to swell outwards. She dragged herself across the floor, her tits and gut slapping into each other and her bulky thighs as she approached. But before she could reach Henry, she collapsed onto her gelatinous belly. The expansion had stopped, leaving Ms Cabot immobile and futilely wriggling around trying to grasp his crotch with her chubby fingers. Abruptly snapping out with indecision, Henry sprinted out the flat and slammed the door. That didn’t happen, it couldn’t have. Maybe the candles gave him a weird high after he’d beaten her and let his guard down? He wouldn’t betray an organisation that had been his entire adult life. He didn’t have anything else. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t… He needed help. Maybe he should ring the director? ***** CHAPTER 1: OFFICE OVERINDULGENCE Catherine staggered past the WHSmiths on her usual morning trek through the city centre to work. She’d clearly overdone it on the previous evening’s run, again, and was paying for it in stiffness that made her doubt her commitment to staying in shape. Her doubt was misplaced, her work rightly demanded absolute dedication to her physique. Any slip up during their duties could be a fatal one, and Catherine didn’t have any particular skill in magic to compensate for not being in peak fitness. Whether she’d be able fight anything in her current condition however, was another question. Catherine swerved down a back alley just off from the main highstreet and was met with a comforting site. Jade seemed in just as bad a shape as she was. The imposing woman was cradling a coffee and muttering under her breath, clearly hungover. “Have fun?” Catherine teased, craning her head to look up to the far taller woman. Receiving an exasperated grunt in response, she decided to press further. “How’s Mateen, did he enjoy a muscular girl overwhelming him as much as you’d…” Catherine was cut off by a swift thump, which almost toppled her over. “Shut it pipsqueak! Can we just go in already?, I heard the director wanted to see us this morning, so I need to get it over with so I can go curl up and die please.” The two women stumbled across the small car park and practically fell into the main reception of O.S.C.U headquarters. An elderly secretary waved them on. Both casually thanked her, referring to her using different names. The secretary grumbled something about not being appreciated, but Catherine and Jade were already well out of earshot and past their attention span to notice. They paced, and then suddenly sprinted towards the far wall. A sickening squelch erupted upon contact as they were sucked beyond it. Arriving in the main offices, they took a right and cautiously ascended upstairs to their desks. The O.S.C.U office building seemed specifically designed to encourage field detectives to go out on their assigned cases. Desks were wedged together haphazardly and filing cabinets sprung up like weeds wherever there was free space, creating a cluttered garden of oppressive paperwork. The employees attempted to remedy this with a random array of personal items, marking their territory of chaotic mess from the rest. In vain. It was a shithole. Finding their personal section of the shithole, handily marked with a stack of fitness magazines, unread romantic novels and a game of thrones poster they’d tried to torch after season 8, Jade and Catherine collapsed into their chairs. They were surprised to spot that the director was decidedly absent from her office on the far side of the 2nd floor. Nor could they spot her below from the balcony. Director Theresa Sanderson was arguably the tightest laced member the Occult Special Crimes Unit had ever recruited, and a stone cold force of nature. She was so assured of her abilities that she released her surname to the public shortly after her promotion to director. A surname could be used a strong tool for curses against any but the strongest of wills, and the director refused to care in the slightest. The last time she’d been late for work was when she’d been exorcising an arch demon of hell that had torn apart half a borough. There was a reason the 35 year old was considered the vanguard of occult justice. So where was she? “Should we go knock on her office door again?” Catherine was beginning to get worried, though admittedly her sore legs dissuaded her from taking the initiative to head over herself. “We can wait another couple minutes. She’s probably in the loo or something Lottie, no need to threat” Jade seemed to have recovered abit from her headache, and the 27 year old instinctually sank back into role of reassuring cool headedness to combat her younger colleague’s high energy impulsivity. Quickly becoming bored, Catherine began rummaging through their shared desk space. Catherine despised paperwork, so ignored the case files on the desk completely in favour of the odds and ends in their drawers. Elastic bands were twanged, paperclips stacked and pencils beat like drumsticks, but nothing scratched the itch she had to do something. Just as Jade was about to lose her patience and snap at her, something caught Catherine’s eye. Subtle movement from Sanderson’s office. Alerting Jade, they both sighed in relief and headed over. The director must have slipped into work without them noticing. Before they made it, a petite figure abruptly appeared in front of them, barring their way with a grin that dominated the rest of their face. “HI nice to meet you my name’s Isabella from the record department, are you here to see Director Sanderson too?!” exhaled the tiny young woman in front of them, fidgeting on her heels like an excited child. Her elven heritage was unmistakable. Besides her size, Isabella’s long, partially prehensile ears were twitching as much as she was, and her saucer-like eyes gave her a feline, and slightly unsettling quality that contrasted her otherwise adorable demeanour. Taken aback by the cute assault, Jade and Catherine merely nodded and headed towards the door to the office. Isabella flitted past them and burst into the room without knocking. While initially stunned by the snappy entrance, the director welcomed them and gestured for them to sit. The half-elf woman immediately took her seat, but the other women took their time... something wasn’t quite right with the director. For starters, Theresa’s severe business suit had been replaced with a soft cardigan. Her usually pristine desk was in a mess, and instead of stationary arranged by size and colour, snacks littered polished mahogany surface. Theresa was visibly struggling not to nab one as she introduced the women to Isabella. Jade was mildly annoyed when the director referred to her strength as ‘beast-like’, but held her tongue. Her concern for the director was rapidly becoming more of a pressing issue. Theresa lost her battle with temptation multiple times throughout the introductions, nibbling on bar after bar of chocolate. “Are you okay director?” Jade cautiously queried. Theresa looked confused by the question, and hurriedly went to searching for the case file describing the group’s assignment. Realising it was in a cabinet behind her, Sanderson hefted herself upright. The director’s body had once been an intensely wiry vehicle of destruction, but it had apparently softened into a vehicle of lazy nights and overindulgence. While no means massive, Theresa was now noticeably skinny fat. Her arms, once thick with muscle were now slimmer and jiggled slightly as pushed and pulled the cabinet in her search. Her butt had widened and sank slightly, and the seams of her very uncharacteristic sweatpants audibly strained when she leant over the lower shelves. Obtaining the thick file at last, a small roll of blubber crept over the waistband of her trousers as she silently sighed in relief. “Sorry about the delay, I’ve been preoccupied with other things and misplaced it.” Jade shot Catherine a death glare before she could comment. She sunk back into her chair, becoming bored. “But I hope that doesn’t delude you to this case’s utmost importance. The Leckermaul coven of witches has been a thorn in the occult world’s side for centuries, and their crimes against both the magic and mundane communities have been steadily increasing over the past 3 decades. The lives ruined and taken by them cannot be left unavenged. A recent development has brought them back into the limelight. A fellow investigator incapacitated one Margaret Cabot last week, and she decided to come forward this morning with information on the location of another, more prominent member.” Catherine sat back up in her seat. The coven weren’t the most dangerous group of rogue sorcerers, but the recognition from taking them down would easily put her on track to rise within and outside the organisation. Catherine had loftier ambitions than being a detective her entire life, and a job like this would allow her to open doors into something greater. “You have been assigned to apprehend this member, Miss Jennifer Kale, from the Fae settlement of Shyllone and extract as much information as possible from her” “Just the three of us?” Jade questioned. While she was excited, there was no way only 2 field agents could take an entire coven on, even ones as skilled as her and Catherine. “No, the team will remain small, but there will be 4 of you in total. You two will be the muscle, and Miss Isabella will carry out consultation and negotiation within Shyllonne. You will also have additional help from another detective specialising in the combative application of magic.” Catherine scoffed at that. While taught to everyone in the department, there was rarely any wide application of magic beyond enhancing ones physical abilities and the enchantment of tools in her opinion. Most who attempted anything more complicated ended up dead fast unless they were truly gifted. Theresa spotted her derision, “I assure you that I personally recommended this detective for a reason Catherine. His name is Henry.” ******
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