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A Witch’s Meal Tristan had been a chubby girl all her life, but lately she began to fill out more than ever. She was only 5'3 and rounded out at 300 pounds – quite an achievement for her age of 24. She was happy with her figure, but one day her size proved to be a problem. It was a typical day out; Tristan was walking along the street, on her way to get a coffee, when she accidentally bumped into an old woman. The woman's coffee spilled all over her clothes, and was obviously quite angry about it. Tristan apologized profusely, but it didn't seem to do anything to ease her temper. The old woman stepped closer to Tristan, a menacing glint in her eye, and warned her that she'd pay for her actions if she wasn't careful. Before Tristan knew it, she'd been placed in a trance – an enchantment – and was being led by the old woman deep into the forest, towards her cabin. Once they arrived, Tristan was ordered to take a seat at the table. She looked at the woman more closely, and noticed that she had strawberry-blonde hair, an hourglass figure, and was most likely in her mid-thirties. An eerie feeling prickled down her spine; she had most definitely just upsetted a witch. Then, the witch began to talk down to her about her size; she asserted that she was too fat, and ridiculed her about her weight gain. Aghast, Tristan felt a pang of humiliation tear through her body. But, strangely, this humiliation only seemed to incite the witch further. The witch then went into another room and returned with a traditional kitchen apron on, and a feast fit to feed a village on her hands. She commanded Tristan to eat. Too scared to refuse – even though her stomach was grumbling – she began to dig in. No matter how much she ate, it was never enough. Slowly, her stomach bloated, and began to fill in. She burped and farted ferociously, and was appalled when the witch seemed to enjoy it. Despite the fact that she was ready to burst, she kept eating, eventually reaching a total of 500 pounds. The witch then opened the fridge and unearthed some desserts; two cakes, two dozen donuts, and a five-gallon milkshake…all for her. Tristan was starting to regain her consciousness, and she audibly pleaded with the witch to stop. But, it was no use. The witch shoved the food down her throat, forcing her to eat even more. She grew to 800 pounds, and her desperation grew as she feared the worse. Sure enough, that's when the witch grabbed a ten gallon vat of melted butter and slowly forced it down her mouth. Her body gurgled and creaked from the pressure, and she finally cried out for mercy – but it was in vain. Tristan laid in the oven, with an apple in her mouth, and watched in fear as the witch salivated as she roasted in the oven. She gorged and lapped away at her body, taking in the delicious fat and savoring the flavor of Tristan's flesh.When she was finished, Wanda was plump and gaseous. She rubbed her belly with satisfaction and pondered who her next victim would be. Tristan's body was never found, and to this day, her disappearance remains a mystery

Anyone else into analog horror? I loved Gemini Home Entertainment, local 58, the Walten files and Mandela catalogues. Know of any other good ones?

Dear Reader, I know you don’t believe in the supernatural like your sister. But, I’m writing to you to share the haunting story of my best friend and the ghost that possessed her. Emily and I had been ghost hunting together for years and first met in a paranormal investigation group. We had a shared interest in exploring the unknown and the supernatural. Over time, we formed a close bond, working together on numerous investigations, sharing our experiences and insights with one another. We eventually received a call from a restauranteur who was experiencing some strange and unexplained occurrences in their place of business. The owner informed us that every woman was becoming a regular, sneaking in behind their loved ones’ backs, order copious amounts of food and stuff themselves until they weren’t able to move. Only to eventually leave and come back not 30 minutes later with their families and do it all over again. The owner suspected that there was something supernatural causing this behavior and reached out for assistance. We were intrigued and concerned by the reports and decided to investigate further. As we began our investigation, we were inundated with positive evidence of something. Positive EMF readings, cold spots, etc. and it drove us to do more research on the facility. We found through rumor and circumstance that a woman had once died there, we couldn’t find any information on her in the local records office. But apparently, she was a notorious glutton, known for her insatiable appetite and her obsession with rich, fatty foods. Apparently, she ate herself to death, somehow. The restaurant staff was a little vague, their statements were only really hushed watercooler talk. But still, there had to be something to it, given the amount of evidence we were already gathering. She must not have been able to move on from her earthly cravings. But as our research continued, I felt something was amiss. Emily became increasingly obsessed with this case, spending long hours researching and investigating. She would disappear on me, only to have me find her at the library or the records office, eyes glued to a local history book with the remnants of some take away cluttered around her. It wasn’t until I noticed Emily’s softened love handles bulging over the waistband over her tight, ill-fitting jeans and a slight ** belly peaking beneath her shirt that I started to suspect Emily was being affected by whatever malevolent force we were uncovering here. It frightened me, we had never encountered something like this before, and I was overwhelmed by guilt that I hadn’t noticed anything sooner. In what would be our last meeting with our client, I told him we had to stop our investigation due to personal reasons, and that we would refund him his money. Emily was furious with me. As soon as the door to the restaurant shut behind us and we were out on the street, she exploded saying that I “had no right” and that we were “so close to finding the truth.” She stormed off shortly after. I ended up packing the van back at our hotel by myself. Eventually, she came back despite all my calls and texts to get ahold of her, but when I saw her, I was aghast. She slowly waddled to the side van door, slid it open and clambered inside. Her belly was swollen tight, her pants were unbuttoned, allowing her gut to roll slightly into her lap. She had a dollop of frosting in the corner of her mouth, and she plopped next to her a box of donuts, at least two dozen in count. Her breathing was shallow and despite me trying to get her attention, she just ignored me and shoved a new confectionary in her mouth. Despite the open road being noisy, I could hear her grunting and groaning as she plowed through the box of donuts. I glanced back at her when I suspected she was finished, and her eyes were shut, a pained look on her face as she clutched her overtaxed belly with frosted hands, her cheeks chipmunked as she struggled to finish the last donut. She continued to ignore my attempts at conversation. Even though she’s still mad, at least I got her away from that place. If only that were the end of the story. When we made it back to our hometown, I dropped Emily off at her front door. She didn’t even speak, she just carefully slid out clutching her gut and slowly made her way to her front entry. Unlocking the door, she slipped inside and turned off the porch light. I’m not going to lie; it pissed me off a bit. I’m just looking out for her like we’ve done for countless investigations, and she’s being a little diva about it. I rationalized with myself that she’d have to call and apologize to me for acting like a child. I drove home, climbed into bed, and fell asleep. It wasn’t until a few weeks later that I started getting concerned. I tried to text her, I tried calling her, but Emily was avoiding me. We’ve shared a cold shoulder with each other before, it’s only inevitable working so closely together, but it never lasted this long. I pulled up to her house, and immediately I had a pit in my stomach. Her front lawn was completely unkempt, her trash cans were overflowing with garbage, and all the lights were off in her house. I parked the car and slowly crept up to the front door and knocked loudly. I heard a slight crash and a meager voice call out, “It’s open!” I turned the knob and pushed my way in. My eyes were met with a shocking sight. Emily’s living room was a complete mess, with empty pizza boxes, chip bags, candy wrappers, and take-away containers scattered across the hardwood. The air was thick with the smell of grease. And then I saw Emily. She was lying on the couch, heavier than I’ve ever seen her. Her stomach protruding out so far I’d swear she was pregnant. Her shirt was stretched to its limits, barely covering her huge belly. The buttons on her blouse were straining trying to contain her newfound girth. Her face was dotted with drops of sweat, as if she was in the midst of an intense workout, and crumbs and grease were smeared across her cheeks and chin, and sauce stains littered her bosom. “Hey…Emily…How are you feeling?” My voice was practically a whisper. She glanced up at me. Her eyes said to me, “oh, its you,” as if she was expecting someone else. “I’m so hungry,” she moaned, her voice barely audible through her labored breathing. “I can see that,” I gestured to the piles of empty food containers around us, “but maybe you should take a break for a little while.” “No, I need more. I need more food.” She was demanding, her voice growing louder and more desperate. “I have to keep going; Martha wants me to eat more.” I was taken aback by the desperation in her voice. She struggled to lift herself from her couch. Her bulging flesh threatened the seams of her sweatpants and little keyholes opened to reveal her flabby belly between the buttons on her shirt. “I need to eat more. God, I’m just so fucking hungry.” She lumbered closer to me; I could see her body shake and jiggle with each passing motion. The floor vibrated every step she took. “I’m so stuffed but Martha’s so fucking hungry.” There was that name again. “Emily, who…who is Martha?” She plodded closer, her thighs rubbed tightly together, her hips wobbled. “Did you bring me more food? I need to eat more.” “Who is Martha?” Emily finally reached me, she was swaying back and forth, struggling to hold herself up. She fell forward, latching hard onto me, her eyes looked crazed…dare I say it…possessed. “I can’t eat another bite, but I’m so fucking hungry. Feed me, please! Feed me! Martha needs more!” I struggled to hold her up and her weight through me off balance, we both tumbled to floor amongst the spoils of her gluttonous endeavors. She landed hard causing her stuffed, fat body to quiver on the ground, and as she looked up at me, a small stream of blood fled from her nose. She started writhing on the ground, slowly crawling toward me. “Please, feed me. I need more food. I’m fucking starving. I need to get more for Martha.” I didn’t know what to do. I scrambled backwards as this slogging, bloated mass that was Emily came closer to me. I finally made it to my feet and ran out of the room with her screaming “FEED ME! PLEASE, FEED ME!” over and over again until the front door slammed shut behind me. Once out on the front step, Emily began screaming obscenities instead, the barrage of muffled vitriol that spilled from her mouth scared me almost as much as what just happened. I ran to my van and as I swerved around the corner, I swear I saw at least 2 delivery cars pull into her driveway. I was shellshocked. I hid myself in my room, I avoided my phone. She terrified me. That wasn’t the Emily I knew. That wasn’t my best friend. Finding new resolve, I had to do something to help her. Anything. Over the next few days, I tried to call our Ghost Hunter association for help, but they thought I was crazy. Useless. I tried to call a priest for an exorcism. Hell, I called every religious figurehead that would take my call, and all of them told me to check her into a facility, and that their prayers were with her. Fucking useless. I tried calling the local hospital and without being her immediate family, I could do nothing more than try to convince her to come in on her own. I was helpless. I couldn’t go back there. I couldn’t go back to that house. I found myself spiraling. That name. That name kept ringing in my head. Martha. We didn’t know a Martha, so the only logical thing I could think was whatever was at that restaurant, somehow came back with us and latched onto Emily. I delved into our research. I went over copies of newspaper clippings and heritage reports. I went through registrar’s documents and police reports. Nothing. Its like she didn’t exist. I got in my van and began to drive. Martha, who the fuck is Martha. Eventually, I found myself back at the restaurant. It was the middle of dinner service, and sure enough, just like the owner said, I saw countless bloated women, fattened, stuffed into there clothes, bellies bulging in front of them, each with several plates piled high with fattening meals. Every last one of them, a pained look on their face as they shoveled their next bite into their mouths. As stormed through the front, I heard them moan and talk to themselves: “Oh God, no more.” “I’m so full, I’m gonna pop.” “Please, I’m so stuffed, I can’t take another bite.” But despite their pleas, their opened mouths were met with another shoveling of food, stretching their bellies further. I slammed into the kitchen and stormed to the manager’s office. Swinging the door open I shouted at the man, “Who the fuck is Martha?” The man was shocked, “w-what?” “Who the fuck is Martha,” I stormed closer to him, I could feel the vessels on my head bulging. “How…how do you know that name?” He tried to make himself small. So very small. I grabbed a paperweight off his cluttered desk. The fluorescent lights flickered while singing a soft, numbing hum. “You KNEW?! YOU KNEW?!” I flew into a frenzy. The man was an insect. Something to stomp out, to crush, to destroy and if it wasn’t for his kitchen staff, he would have been a bloodstain on his floor., They dragged me out the back door, my kicks knocking over pans and plates and cups making a huge racket. They wrestled me outside and threw me to the ground screaming at me to leave. I was in tears. I’m so close to the truth, so close to learning what really happened here. And maybe if I could figure that out, maybe it could all stop. I picked myself up off the ground, clutching the arm that broke my fall, blood streaming from a small gash on my elbow, dripping by my feet. I struggled to my vehicle, and when I slipped inside, I noticed a VHS tape sitting on the front seat next to me. I picked it up and, on its label, it read, “Martha.” I looked up back at the restaurant, to see a waitress glance away and avert her eyes as she shoved a dessert into her mouth. There was nothing more I could do here. I drove the 8-hour drive back home. When I finally made it back home, I swerved into my driveway, nearly hitting my mailbox. I swung open the van door, grabbed the tape and ran inside. I could hear the dinging from the door alarm on my van as I crashed into my home. In my basement I tossed boxes aside until I found an old relic that Emily used to make fun of me for keeping, my parent’s old VCR. I hooked it up to the TV inputs and while the TV shown brightly the black and white snow, I took a deep breath to calm myself. With shaking hands, I slid the tape inside the device. The TV switched from snow to a black screen, and then on a distorted tape I watched as the same waitress that averted her eyes a few hours ago was staring back at me only she had to be 50lbs lighter. With crackling audio, I could hear her voice, “I-I’m sorry to not do this in person…m-my fiancé-e-e *tshhh*” static comes in and out. “Runs the restaurant. He’s a good man, he didn’t know anything was going to happen. Today’s day is May 9th, you just stopped your investigation yesterday and I didn’t get a chance to show you this while you were here, as I only just found it hidden in our attic. Martha…the woman who died…was his mother. I can’t even describe to you what is on this tape, you will just have to watch it to see for yourself, but I hope it helps you solve this thing. It needs to end before I’m so big I can’t leave my bed. I never used to believe in ghosts, but now I’m not so sure.” The tape hits a poor signal patch, and the video finally slowly rolls into view. The flickering tape shows a chubby woman in a waitress uniform tied to a chair in what looks like the kitchen of the restaurant. Before her on the service counter sits an enormous feast. Martha’s eyes were wide with excitement. The foods looked decadent and rich, and the man said in too soothing of a voice, “Here you go, my love,” as he shoved the first mouthful into her. “Freshly baked bread, a succulent roast chick, roasted potatoes and gravy, and for dessert, your favorite, a rich, chocolate cake.” Martha’s eyes lit up as the man pushed food past her lips, and she ate with such voracity it was a bit shocking. The tape flickered again, this time the woman was wearing a skirt and blouse. Time clearly has passed, and she clearly looks fatter than before. Martha had a ring of sauce around her lips, that had dripped onto her white blouse. The plates surrounding her grew 4-fold. Several of them, already empty, you could tell she was struggling a bit as her husband fed her. “More…” she asked. The tape crackled again, this time, Martha was downright fat. She was bulging out of her clothes. Her hair was disheveled, her head hanging limply out of shear strain and exhaustion. Food smeared her cheeks and chin. “No more Frank, please. I’m too full.” “Come on Martha, there are plenty of plates left to go through, you need to eat more.” “Huff…Okay…okay…More.” The tape whirred and shook into the next scene, apparently still the same evening. Martha was laying on a bed, moaning while clutching her swollen belly, it rose like a stuffed mountain above her. Frank walked closer to her and joined her on the bed, accompanied by a couple of boxes. He opened one up and pulled out a slice of chocolate cake. “I’ve got your favorite.” Martha’s labored breathing could be heard in the background. “I can’t, I’m so full already. Please I need to stop eating.” “Just a little bite, you’re doing so well. Its just a few more bites and then we can stop.” “Okay…oh god…Give me more.” She clutches her overtaxed belly, and a deep moan escaped Martha as Frank pushed the cake past her lips. The tape flickers again. Martha is unrecognizable. She’s huge, and her lingerie that she’s wearing was far too small. Her face was a mess, and she was completely covered in a smear of foodstuffs. Her cheeks were stuffed full of food, and her fattened belly was clearly a lot larger than before. She looked large enough to roll out of the restaurant’s kitchen. Piles of empty plates surrounded her. Her brow was beaded with sweat, her beautiful hair lay slightly matted against her. She could barely get in a breath, her belly stuffed so full of fattening goodies. Through her mouthful of food, “I can’t…I can’t eat another bite.” “What do you mean you can’t eat anymore?” Franks voice sounded annoyed. “I’m sorry Frank, but…*urp* I’m fucking stuffed, it hurts so bad.” “Come on Martha, you know you want it. Just one more bite, for me?” “Frank no, please.” “You know what you have to do. Its fucking simple. Eat. You just have to eat.” Frank shoved another slice of lasagna into Martha’s mouth. She sputtered. “I…I guess so…Just a few more bites, okay? We can stop then, right?” “You got it babe.” Frank shoved another piece of cake into her mouth. Martha’s face says it all. She’s absolutely stuffed to the gills. “More…” And as Frank shoves the last slice into Martha’s fattened face. Her expression changed a from gluttonous, hedonistic overload to terror and fear, and she let out a shrill scream. And as life drained from her eyes, and through Frank’s frantic shouts, the image sputtered to black. I tell you; I was mortified. Horrified. Terrified. Every mixed feeling smashed into one. I finally found my answer. I just wasn’t ready for it. Now the only thing I can do is try to show that I know what happened and maybe then…Maybe then Martha can move on in peace. I hopped into my van and drove back over to Emily’s. I hadn’t been here in a few weeks and its as if there is a dark cloud over her home. As soon as I stepped out of my car, the air felt heavy, almost suffocating. I pushed through the front gate and made my way to her front door. Her grass is completely overgrown, her property is completely littered with trash, a far cry from who Emily truly was. I pounded on the door. “EMILY?!” I pounded it again. This time, I heard nothing. I opened the door and stepped inside and was immediately hit with the smell of fry grease. The once-tidy home was in an even worse state than before. Empty food containers, wrappers, plates, pizza boxes, everything strewn across every surface. I began checking every room in the house, Emily was nowhere to be found. I eventually went upstairs to where her bedroom was, “Emily?” I called out. I gingerly stepped over mounds and mounds of empty takeout containers. And when I entered the bedroom, my eyes landed on a massive blob lying atop her straining bed. Her belly was gigantic, her fleshy sides spilling over the edges of her California Queen. She was in her underwear, and they were stretched to their limits, her fat, bloated body bulging out every opening, the seams on their last thread. Her breathing was shallow and labored, and as I walked over, I had to lift my hand to set it atop her belly. It was sticky with food mess, as if she wore it like a trophy to show her gluttonous triumph. It was also completely taut, packed so full of fattening food that she had to be close to bursting. I stepped back toward the doorway and called the paramedics. “More…I need more…” It wasn’t Emily. “Martha. You need to leave this house at once. You are not welcome here.” I shouted at the top of my lungs. “I need to eat more…Feed me more…” Emily’s hand heavily reaches around her trying to find something more to eat. “Martha, I know how you died. FRANK killed you.” The mention of Frank’s name sent a whirlwind of through the room followed by a scream between the fabric of this reality. The food containers rose into the air and slammed against me in a wave, almost drowning me in the trash. “This isn’t you; you need to leave here at once!” Another wave of empty food containers pelted me from across the room. “Emily? Can you hear me?” “It’s not my fault,” she hasped clutching her swollen stomach. “She made me do it.” “I know. I know!” The tornado in her bedroom swirled fast, and harder. “Martha, she won’t leave me alone. She’s always so…*urp*… hungry. Always demanding more.” “I understand, Emily, it’s not your fault. You need to fight back, take back control!” The disembodied scream rang loudly into the room. “She always wanted more… More…” I could hear the sirens in the background. “You have to end this, Martha, we know what really happened, you have to move on!” The disembodied scream rang in my ears, followed up by Emily’s own scream as she tried to break free of Martha’s grasp. I felt a blast of wind fly past me as the front door opened, the floating food containers fell to the ground with a thud. I hear a cacophony of voices and of a gurney being rushed up the stairs and her bedroom door slams open. The paramedics rushed in, and were in complete disbelief at the fattened, bloated ball of flesh that was Emily. “What did she eat?” One of them asked me… “E…Everything.” Was all I could muster. I could hear Emily sobbing, saying she was sorry, that it wasn’t her fault, pleading for help. The men took their time, and carefully tried to lift her on the gurney. “She’s too heavy,” one of them muttered. “We need to be careful.” They managed to somehow squeeze her through her doorway, the gurney creaking dangerously under her mass. But it wasn’t until they made it to the staircase that it happened. As they went to lower her down, the legs snapped. I can’t express to you how sorry I am for your loss. I didn’t even want to write you such a detailed story but it’s one that has to be heard. One to let you understand that despite what you see at her funeral, despite the rumors you may hear, Emily’s death wasn’t her fault, and her last days weren’t how she normally spent her life. I tried. I tried to help her, to save her. But I failed her. Well, I need to wrap this up. All this talk of food has made me hungry, despite my late lunch and early dinner. I seem to be extra hungry these days. Must be a coping mechanism. Sincerely, Julie Martha

Day 1. Spooky season is upon us, we don't celebrate it much in Australia, but you'll find some neighbourhoods participating in trick or treating. Mine is one of those places. I must admit, I do enjoy handing out candy (or lollies for the fellow Australian's), but I especially enjoy eating all the leftovers. I have big plans to decorate the house, the spookier the better. Dressing the windows with cobwebs, illuminating the yard with glowing pumpkins and strategically placing frightful skeletons. I am also looking forward to dressing up. I was thinking a plump Powerpuff girl or something equally amusing. Can you imagine a super sized Bubbles 🤭 I must admit, there is something quite eery about tonight, I can hear the low moaning of the wind as it passes through my empty street. The occasional truck on the bypass or train down the line breaking up the silence. I left my window open to enjoy the cool air, but I must remember to close it before I drift off to sleep. Maybe I'm just a little more skittish this time if year, but something just doesn't feel right. I'm sure it is nothing, I had better fix myself a snack before bed, a peanut butter sandwich and glass of milk should help ease my mind.

Content Warning: Magic, weight changes, gender changes, mental changes, and clowns (eugh) It’s time, Brittany thought, grinning to herself maliciously. She ran her fingers over the tickets she’d spent all day at the fair trying to get, sweating with nervous anticipation. This was it. While her friends were still preoccupied, she took a deep breath and did her best to suppress her excitement before looking back at them. Logically, they shouldn’t have any reason to think she was hiding something, but it was better safe than sorry. She needed them to do this with her. As always, she watched her childhood friend Sophia laughing and playfully flirting with her boyfriend, Jayden, with a tinge of jealousy, followed soon by guilt. Even more so than usual. But she quickly quashed them both. Calm down. We’re just doing this for fun, she told herself. After all, it was just a rumor. There’s no telling if it’s true. Having convinced herself for now, she put on the most innocent smile she could muster without it feeling forced and ran over to her friends, who were currently busying themselves with a game of ring toss. Unsurprisingly, Jayden was fairing the best, being the most athletic of the trio with a long reach to boot. Brittany watched and waited from the sidelines, planning to approach them when they were finished. Ultimately, even with they’re combined efforts, they only managed to win a keychain with a weird looking cat on the end. “This carnival is weird.” Jayden said, examining the cat’s comically frightened expression. “Well, it’s really all about the game, anyway. Nobody really plays them for the prizes.” Sophia replied with a shrug. “So, you guys are done with the booths for now?” “I guess. Why, did you want go stand in line for the rides again or something?” “Something like that. Here.” Brittany handed each of them one of the purple tickets she was previously clutching in her fist. Jayden held it up curiously, trying to read it in the blinking lights of the carnival booths. “What’s this for?” “It’s for a special attraction I heard about at the back of the fair. I wanna go and check it out with you guys, so I bought us some tickets.” “Special attraction? Like a magic show?” Sophia said, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t wanna spoil the surprise. You’ll go with me though, right?” Jayden and Sophia shared a glance before shrugging. “Sure, I don’t see why not.” Sophia replied with a smile. “Yes!” Brittany exclaimed with a genuinely excited fist pump. Sophia giggled in response while Jayden suppressed a sigh as they followed the excited girl down the street lined with booths to their destination. Jayden couldn’t help but acknowledge how the shorter girl was practically skipping with giddiness, a sight made all the more ridiculous by her physique. His girlfriend’s bestie was a chubby, pear shaped girl with dark brown hair she kept in a neat bob that did little to hide her round face and massive, childlike eyes. Her large hips and portly thighs were well contained by a set of jean shorts and black leggings that fit snuggly enough not to hike down, as well a jean vest and an orange shirt with horizontal black stripes, which as one would expect, only further accentuated her girth. Despite this, she’d been running around all night, from booth to booth, ride to ride, and still somehow had energy to spare. If it weren’t for that appetite of hers, she’d probably be in better shape than Sophia, he mused. On that note, as the leader of their party bounded down the road, Jayden looked down at his date giggling next to him with a familiar discomfort. Once again, Sophia appeared to be blind to the obvious. Jayden sighed, once again electing to bring it up later. Brittany was having fun for now. He could at least wait until they weren’t in public. Immediately upon looking ahead, Brittany stopped. They were here. Ahead of them was a large purple circus tent, embroidered with blue and gold stars. Above the entrance hung a sign, illuminated by a set of flood lights at the bottom, with a sinister looking clown on top: “Helga’s Haunted Hall of Mirrors”. To the right of the entrance was a small booth, manned by a very bored looking female clown reading a newspaper. “Is this a new attraction? I don’t remember this thing being here last year…” Jayden commented, looking at the sign’s evil-looking white eyes with suspicion. “This isn’t some kind of haunted house, is it? You know I can’t handle those, Bee.” Sophia muttered nervously. “Oh, don’t be such a baby. You’ll have me and Jayden to protect you. Besides, I heard this was supposed to be more cool than scary. It’s got like, ‘state of the art effects’.” Brittany said reassuringly, already trotting backwards over to the booth. Upon hearing their voices, the clown inside the booth looked up from her paper with surprise, noticing she had customers. “Oh! Hello folks. You here try out our hall of mirrors?” She said, sounding genuinely flustered. “Yep. Here’s my ticket.” The clown pinched the ticket between her the thumb and forefingers of her gloved hand, which just so happened to only have four digits in total. Jayden could tell, based off how her fingers flexed, that she’d shoved two of them into the middle slot. She looked more or less like the rest of the employees they’d encountered at the fair so far, albeit with clown makeup on. She wore the same red vest as the rest of the employees, along with a set of black trousers held up by yellow suspenders, a red nose, and floppy red shoes visible with her right leg crossed over the other. Her ginger toned hair was tied back into a pony tail with a tiny black bowler hat balanced on her head to complete the look. “Looks good to me.” She said finally. “Hand me your tickets and you can go on in. But you’ve gotta go in one at a time, and no running. Can’t have you breaking the mirrors.” “Why do we need to go in one at a time?” Sophia said nervously. “It’s supposed to be more fun that way. At least that’s what the boss said.” “I’m assuming that’s Helga?” Jayden asked with curiosity. “Yep. She’s the one who designed this place for the fair.” “So this is a new attraction, right? Where’s the line? You’d think there’d be more people…” “Yeah, one of the customers earlier mentioned that. Something about the tickets being hard to find… not really my problem, though. I still get paid either way, so…” “Fair enough.” “You guys coming, or what?” Brittany yelled back, already passing through the tent. “Wait up! *sigh* we’re just going to go in together. Is that a problem?” “Nope, not to me at least.” The clown replied, taking their tickets. “Have fun.” With a nod and girlfriend in tow, Jayden followed Brittany inside, feeling Sophia squish up against him as the darkness of the tent inside washed over them. They were in some sort of tunnel where, up ahead, he could see yellow light pouring in through the closed flaps of a fabric door a few feet ahead, and he could faintly make out Brittany’s excited squeals. For just a moment, Sophia let go of Jayden long enough for him to part the entrance, blinding her with the surprisingly harsh light on the other side. That’s why it was only after she passed through the entrance herself that she realized she was alone.

Chapter 1 Three went in. None came out. They should have known better to enter a witch's grove. Neephree, Hexra, and Eevi were three well seasoned adventurers coming down from the peak of success. The three had plundered tombs of the Banefire king, been in and out of the Cavern's of Carnage, and scooped gold up by the handfuls from the well of wealth. All three were well trained, well equipped, and well prepared for any number of threats. After-all, one does not make it this far without accumulating some level of power. Which makes their demise all the more... interesting? Who would think what they thought to be an uninhabited grove would have been their end? Neephree looked down at her map, checking and double checking, her fluffy white catlike ears twitching about playfully as she did, "I think it's the place? The peak of peace can be seen on the horizon over there, well of youth a few miles o'er there," she remarked as she craned the map about - thinking perhaps a different angle would afford her a better view as her slit feline eyes winced at it. "Neephree, must you look at the map from forty different angles before determining a direction," short Hexra reached up, lazily gesturing her free hand without a staff in palm towards her half-feline companion, "Here, here - hand the thing over," she let out a tired sigh. "N'yo way!" The feline protested, white tail stuck out at a sharp angle through the hole in her cured oily black leather armor, "Eevi promised me I'd navigate us this time. Said we'd do better to work better if we learned all skills!" She kicked up a fuss, stamping her feet against the crunch of the brown dead leaves. Hexra let out a lazy sigh, reaching to her belt for her little purple tinted flask and brought it to her plush lips taking a small swig, "oh dear, oh my, oh goddess," she muttered between small sips of the bitter fluid, "I'm amazed Falsi bestowed you the title 'walker of shadows' when you are so..." she shook her head as she parsed through her wide vocabulary for a more agreeable term to describe her companion, "... Lively..." Of-course, this little fuss on Neephree's part was anything but genuine as the other gently scolded her. A blush lightly formed on her tanned face, a smirk growing as one of her fangs became visible, "Well as the holder of the title of walker of shadows I'd be doin' a dishonor to Falsi being so noisy. Thankfully not all noise is 'bad' noise," she suddenly had the purple tinted flask in hand while the other had the map in hand. Through deft sleight of hand, borderline sorcery, she had swapped the items. She took a swig as celebration, "Bottoms up!" She rolled her violet hues in response to being easily swindled by her sly friend, "You are hopelessly conniving," she pouted in an exaggerated manner before looking down to the map they were having a bit of a scuffle over before a playful, stern voice called on out. "Only you two could fight over a map when the destination is the blooming grove in the middle of a dead forest right before you!" Eevi sauntered on forward, obsidian half plates hugging her thinly muscled framed, "I looked the entrance over. Not a soul and it appears like the place is untouched - looks like we'll be plundering the riches of a dead witch today ladies." Neephree was always taken by Eevi's rousing little speeches as she pumped a fist in the air, "Riches!" she chirped. The tiny sorceress was not so easily excited as she thoughtfully stroked a finger through her silky violet hair, "Oh? Well, we should take precautions against curses, hexes, and what not. Would be most shameful to fall victim to one," she shot a catty glance at Neephree who was still helping herself to the rest of her hard drink, "Seems this one needs to be taught a lesson to not so easily take from a sorceress," she casually crossed her middle over her index finger, ran it in a crescent like motion through the air, while muttering the sorcerous word lowly, "inpleo..." The half-feline ran a hand over her thin belly as a burp escaped her lips, "Hexra...?" She innocently muttered, "Are you the one making me feel all bubbly?" thankfully her midriff was exposed showing off her flat tummy, which had slightly curved outwards, allowing for no restrictions as it grew, "Is this going to be like the titty spell? You wouldn't take it off me for weeks!" Hexra paid no attention to the protests of the bubbling feline and looked over to Eevi whose hair matched that of snow, "A working example of the dangers of taking from spell weavers, the feline took my flask and took a swig which allowed me to easily hex her with a bloat-curse. Given time... perhaps an hour... she will pop right open." "Pop!?" Neephree shouted in disbelief, a cat-like trill undercoating the yell, "Hey! Hey!" She glanced down at her belly which had pressed out in a fine, hard, curve as another belch escaped her lips Eevi's brow furrowed, looking most displeased, "Hexra, drop the curse..." she glanced over at the swelling cat girl, "Neephree, give her the flask back." Of-course, the cat held no hesitation to nearly slam the thing into Hexra, which the small sorceress slowly took a step back, a smugly assessing the damage thus far, "Oh, she has plenty of room to grow before she bursts wide open," she leaned forward, thick hips jutting out against her low-hemmed skirt, poking the belly of the feline as she took the flask back into hand, "I think I'll observe my work for a bit longer back at camp before sparing her..." she coldly stated, tones of friendship which coated her voice absent from earlier. Eevi took a deep breath in and out, letting out a slow sigh, knowing the sorceress was necessary despite her abrupt sadistic episodes, "Please make sure she is in fighting shape at dawn," she wandered on off, "I'm going to keep observing the perimeter. Get back to camp." Of-course, Neephree was not happy with this, not one bit. She planted a hand on her stomach rubbing it, "Hey! Hey! Eevi!?" Sadly, Eevi wandered off acting like she did not hear the pleas of the roguish companion. Hexra stepped in close, running her hands over the other's stomach, "What a lovely little curse..." she licked her lips, "How about we get you back to our tent and I get some oil on you... should delay your bursting by about another... hour or two..." Neephree let out a bit of a whimper as she was forced to comply feeling no choice in the matter. ... unfortunatly, and sadly, this was not the only crueltly she would have to face at the hands of a sorceress in the coming days