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AUTHOR'S NOTE (UPDATED JULY '16): I based this story on an animated TV commercial that a few of you might remember in its original incarnation. It was broadcast on ABC (for those of you not in the States, one of the original “Big Three” broadcast networks) on Saturday mornings beginning in the early 1980s as part of that network's “Bod Squad” series of public service messages. The commercial was basically a warning against the consequences of oversnacking. Fortunately, it lives on in various uploadings on YouTube, where it probably has gotten far more views than it ever did in its initial run. And I’m glad that I could do my part to help the meme live on. This story was originally posted in the Weight Room at Dimensions Online and more recently on DeviantArt and Fantasy Feeder (don’t even get me started on the latter). I have recently modified this story...no real substantive changes, but I did replace a few dated references. Please feel free to comment here or message me to let me know what you think! -- TJ (a/k/a Augmentor) Part One Feeling bored and blue, Sarah Weller plunked down in the futon in her studio apartment. Just a few months prior, she had had a great job, a serious boyfriend, and the promise of a wonderful two-week summer road trip with her two best friends. But that was all gone now. Now she was unemployed; the formerly prosperous Internet company for which she had worked had since gone under. Her boyfriend of three years, Paul, had dumped her, offering her only some lame, vague explanation about "needing his space." And Amy and Diana had both cancelled their plans for the long-awaited road trip...which may have been the most bitter disappointment in this series of misfortunes—the anticipation of the trip was one of the few things that helped keep Sarah's mind off of her recent bad luck streak. Sarah still had not found steady work and held out little hope for finding another job that would be anywhere near as good as the one from which she had been laid off. But she had managed to save enough money to tide her over for a while, supplemented by her modest unemployment checks. With no back-up plans, Sarah had nothing but empty hours ahead of her. For the past month, she hadn't done much of anything except putter around her apartment. Mostly she watched TV, as she was doing now. With the remote control in one hand and the other hand twirling a strand of her layered, chin-length, almond-colored hair, Sarah aimlessly flipped through the channels. (She used to chide Paul for doing the same thing; she wondered what he would think if he could see her now.) Sarah sighed dejectedly and restlessly switched positions on the futon. She surfed through old sitcom reruns, talk shows, and nature documentaries, and finally let the channel rest on an informercial for some kitchen gizmo. Her turquoise eyes, usually bright and shiny, were glazed and dull from countless hours of staring at the TV screen. Sarah began to zone out as the host enthusiastically demonstrated the grating, chopping, and blending capabilities of the wonder product. Sarah's drowsy TV haze was interrupted as several shapes appeared in her line of vision. Sarah gasped. Alarmed, she sat up and found herself surrounded by six or seven squat, blobbish clay-colored humanoids. They looked rather harmless—comical, even—and they seemed oddly familiar somehow. She wondered, was it possible for someone to be so depressed that she started hallucinating? Or had she finally gone completely insane? She blinked, rubbed her eyes, and did a triple take...the creatures were still there. But Sarah was neither crazy nor imagining things. The creatures were in fact Munchies, mischievous imps who delighted in making people fat. Sarah was the perfect target. With her boredom and blueness, she was susceptible to overeating, a weakness that the Munchies exploited to the hilt. The Munchies had been doing their work on Sarah for months now. Using their special powers to make her munch when she wasn't even hungry, they had taken full advantage of Sarah's vulnerability. Now Sarah would mindlessly reach for snacks to fill herself up. At first, it was a piece of pie here, a candy bar there. But as Sarah became sadder and lonelier, the Munchies had more frequent opportunities to pile the pounds on her. They were only too happy to accommodate her new gluttony. On trips to the grocery store, Sarah would stock her cart with fattening goodies, scarcely realizing what she was doing. To top it off, Sarah's lifestyle had become almost completely sedentary. She used to work out conscientiously, but her motivation had dwindled, and she had gotten lazy. Her once-toned body had quickly gone soft and flabby. But Sarah barely seemed to notice the change that had come over herself. If Sarah had a job, she would no doubt realize that her work clothes no longer fit her, but she preferred to wear baggy casual clothes for lounging around. Today she was wearing khaki cotton shorts—once several sizes large, now almost snug—and a once-oversized white t-shirt emblazoned with the logo of the gym where she used to work out. The Munchies' modus operandi was always the same. They would appear whenever Sarah was sufficiently bored or feeling down; then they would proceed to stuff her silly. (Lately, that was every day.) She never remembered these incidents. After she had gorged herself into a stupor, Sarah would drift off to sleep. She would wake up flabbergasted by the empty containers and wrappers strewn around her, but she would dismiss her vague recollections of being fed by globular midgets as fragments from some ridiculous dream. At this moment, the Munchies appeared very real to Sarah. She was now staring wordlessly at her unexpected visitors. They wasted no time on niceties. "It's time for you to start munchin'!" said one of the little creatures. "But I'm not even hungry!" Sarah argued. "Here, munch this!" said one of the blobby little creatures, thrusting a large bag of potato chips at Sarah. "B-But I don't want these!" she said. Sarah feebly tried to resist but found her willpower too fragile. No sooner had she spoken than then she found her hand reaching into the bag. She began stuffing chips into her mouth, crunching greedily. "And there, munch that!" said another Munchie, handing her a can of cheddar cheese dip to go with her chips. Sarah popped open the can and scooped up heaping amounts of cheese on each chip. Within minutes, she had polished off the entire bag and was licking the very last dollop of cheddar cheese dip from her finger. "More! More!" said another one of Munchies. He handed Sarah the phone. Before she knew what she was doing, she had placed an order for a large cheese pizza. The Munchie whispered something in her ear. "Better make that two. Extra large. With the works," Sarah told the order taker. "Oh, and can I get a side of bread sticks to go with that? And a two-liter of Pepsi, please." An hour and a half later, Sarah lay on the futon, the empty pizza boxes on the floor beside the half-full Pepsi bottle. She rested her hands on her distended belly, moaning deliriously. The Munchies had watched the entire spectacle with delight, egging Sarah on and applauding with each slice she had devoured. "Dessert?" said one of the little creatures. "Noooooo..." groaned Sarah. "Please...I've had enough...I feel like...like I'm gonna explode..." Her shorts were tight and cutting into her waist. Just as she reached down to unbutton them, one of the Munchies grabbed her hand and began to pull her out of the futon. Then the others quickly gathered around, giggling and chattering, and lifted her up. "Hey! What are you doing?!" Sarah protested. "Where are you taking me?! Put me down!" She struggled briefly, but she felt her body go slack and realized that she was powerless. They carried her to the kitchen, and set her down in front of the refrigerator. Immediately, the little creatures opened the fridge door and began to grab food off of the shelves. One Munchie handed her a piece of chocolate cheesecake, a leftover from an earlier binge a couple of days before. "Too much," mumbled Sarah. "Too..mmmmmmmmmm," she trailed off, her cheeks bulging with cheesecake. "Atta girl!" said the Munchies. "Here, have some of this!" said another Munchie, handing Sarah a spoon and pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. "No no no no no no no!" protested Sarah, as she tried to wave them away. But the creature insistently held out the container to her and Sarah relented. "Noooooo...I can't...I can't..." said Sarah, even as she opened the container. "Shhhhhhhhhhh," coaxed the Munchie. "A little ice cream will make everything all better." Sarah helplessly began shoveling spoonfuls of the ice cream into her mouth, despite her overwhelming fullness. But her belly was nearing full capacity, and as Sarah neared the bottom of the container, she swallowed each successive spoonful more slowly and with increasing difficulty. At last, she choked down the last remaining spoonful, and set the empty container and the spoon down on the counter with finality. A little rivulet of melted ice cream dribbled from her lips.

removed

Back in 2012, @flaming-hades published a nifty little story called “The Slowest Champion.” A story about weight gain and role-reversal, it is noteworthy for being not a very “nice” story. It casts weight gain in an objectively negative light. It flirts with themes of punishment, humiliation, degradation, disempowerment, failure, defeat, and shame. It lacks a traditional happy ending. Those are all things I love about it, and they are big part of why it ranks among my recent(ish) favorites in the realm of weight gain fiction. That said, I have always regarded “The Slowest Champion” to be a bit of a diamond-in-the-rough. While powered by great ideas and a sense of energy that builds towards one of the most elegantly-simple yet crushingly-effective conclusions I’ve ever read in this genre, in other respects some parts of the story seemed to me unpolished, or simply incomplete. With blessing from FlamingHades, what follows is my attempt to give this underappreciated gem a little TLC, to help bring out its dark inner sparkle. Starting this weekend, and updating roughly once per week until completion, I will be posting: "The Slowest Champion -Revisited-" Single-sentence summary: “A champion high school swimmer’s figure and fortunes are undone when she succumbs to the temptations presented by her own success.” A story… Written by me, Riptoryx. Edited by realistic dark weight gain erotica luminary (and one my personal favorite authors in this genre), Maverick. With creative consultation from “Ali.” Based on the original “The Slowest Champion” by FlamingHades. Stay tuned… Note: If you’re keen to get updates on this story as soon as possible, I recommend watching my DeviantArt (http://riptoryx.deviantart.com/) or following my Tumblr (http://riptoryx.tumblr.com/). The latest updates will appear there first, before I get around to migrating text over to Curvage. Bigger Note: The version of this story available on my DeviantArt page includes additional polish and some substantive revisions added after the text first appeared here at Curvage. Since I can't update the old Curvage forum posts, if you want to read the "best" version of the story, I recommend reading it at DeviantArt (http://riptoryx.deviantart.com/).

Hey all, Very infrequent poster here but long time lurker. I thought I'd share a story I'm working on in junction with a new artist from this community. The Illustrations are commissioned and done (quite excellently) by @G0D07 https://www.deviantart.com/g0d07 If you have an interest in a slow (somewhat) realistic weight gain story (that's visualized), check out the first 3 parts in the sequence. The plan is to have 12 total so expect updates in the weeks/months to come. Freshman year: Chapter 1: https://www.deviantart.com/homestar123/art/Haley-s-Gain-Chapter-1-809719977 Chapter 2: https://www.deviantart.com/homestar123/art/Haley-s-Gain-Chapter-2-809720350 Chapter 3: https://www.deviantart.com/homestar123/art/Haley-s-Gain-Chapter-3-809720928 Sophomore Year: Chapter 4: https://www.deviantart.com/homestar123/art/Haley-s-Gain-Chapter-4-809721113 Chapter 5: https://www.deviantart.com/homestar123/art/Haley-s-Gain-Chapter-5-809721448 Chapter 6: https://www.deviantart.com/homestar123/art/Haley-s-Gain-Chapter-6-809722285 Junior Year: Chapter 7: https://www.deviantart.com/homestar123/art/Haley-s-Gain-Chapter-7-809722580 Chapter 8: https://www.deviantart.com/homestar123/art/Haley-s-Gain-Chapter-8-809722906 Chapter 9: https://www.deviantart.com/homestar123/art/Haley-s-Gain-Chapter-9-809723150 Senior Year: Chapter 10: https://www.deviantart.com/homestar123/art/Haley-s-Gain-Chapter-10-1-809723671 https://www.deviantart.com/homestar123/art/Haley-s-Gain-Chapter-10-2-809723706 Chapter 11: In Progress Chapter 12: In Progress Thanks!

I’ve always had a thing for being teased about gaining weight, I love comments like “you’re really packing on the pounds” or “you’re such a big girl now!” Or even when someone pokes or grabs at your new fat you’ve gained! (I personally love when they go for the belly or back rolls) 🤤 What are your favourite humiliation comments, or experiences you’ve recieved or experienced? Whether it be with friends, family, at the gym, out at a restaurant, clothing store?!! Tell me! 😍

The Doctors Visit Cindy waited patiently on the examination table, the cushion covered in paper squashed beneath her weight. Her legs dangled from the table hanging in the air a few inches from the floor. Her thighs looked enormous when she was sitting, her short shorts cutting into them, looking nearly ready to burst at the seams. Her belly hung out of her tight tank top spilling onto her lap as she leaned back on the table. Her breasts could barely be contained by the straining shirt, showing so much cleavage others in the waiting room had been uncomfortable. Her heart was beating quickly, the anxiety mounting. She had been dreading this appointment from the second she knew she had to make it. All she needed was a simple allergy prescription filled, but they insisted since it had been almost a year that she come in for a routine check-up. Cindy was healthy. She had never felt better about her life, or herself. She had a very lucrative work-from home job, a handsome and charming boyfriend, Jason, and her own apartment conveniently located above a great Italian restaurant, across the street from a pastry shop, and catty-cornered to the local bar. This past year was the best of her life financially, psychologically, and sexually. Those, however, had affected her physically. Life was good to her, and her waistline began to show it. Her work from home status allowed her to lounge around most of the day, log on to her work account, and do what she had to do in pajamas. Going out was another story. Every few weeks she had noticed another article of clothing that didn’t fit. Her job and her financial status provided her the freedom to shop whenever she pleased so she would make frequent trips, sometimes buying the same thing in multiple larger sizes. This was not without error though. In her haste to meet her friends at the bar a few week prior she grabbed a pair of jeans she believed were her current size 22, but after pulling them up in her haste, quickly realized they were much smaller. Intrigued she continued the struggle, jumping, squeezing, and sucking it in, her belly wobbling, her immense breasts bouncing of it like a trampoline and nearly hitting her in the face. She finally managed to just squeeze into them by lying down, sucking it in, and pulling with all her God given strength. She buttoned them and felt the pressure of the clip digging into her waist. Laboriously, she stood up and stared at herself in the mirror. The pants were so tight a roll of her blubbery belly hung over them. She felt the strain of every fiber, feeling them pulling apart against her immense butt and thunder thighs. As she looked at herself she felt strangely erotic, almost turned on at the sight of her bloated figure. She sighed in pleasure, and released the final bit of breath she had been holding it and heard a POP! as she witnessed the button that had been digging into her fly and ricochet off a wall. “Oh Em Gee,” she sighed to herself, the pants still super snug around her midsection, but now feeling slightly less confined after her exploding button, “I’ve gotten so fat I’m popping buttons!” She was embarrassed, but her she felt her panties getting wet. Why was she so turned on by this? Why did she find the fact that she ruined a $120 pair of jeans erotic? Or the fact that she had gained so much weight such a turn? She pondered this as the sight of the button caught her eye, lying next to her bed looking like a bullet casing that hit the floor in a crime scene. She shuffled over, the strain of her pants preventing her from walking correctly, and bent down to retrieve the button. She heard a low groan and then a sudden RRRIIIIPPPP! and felt the cool air hit her large bottom. She quickly stood up, forgetting about the button, and looked at her backside in the mirror. She was aghast to find not just a rip, but a large hole on the seat of her jeans, her black lace thong swallowed up by her soft and jiggly butt cheeks, visible through the breech. She moaned to herself in a combination of mortification and pleasure. “I guess I can’t wear these out.” Cindy slipped the busted pair off and threw them to the side of the bed between her dresser where the button had been, but not before looking at the size of the pants that she had obliterated. “Okay…” she said to herself, “so I’m not a 16 anymore.” She went back to her closet, this time checking the tags this time to make sure a similar incident wouldn’t occur and picked out the biggest pair she could find, a size 22, that were tight, but nothing compared to the previous pair. She put them on, found a cute blouse, and proceeded out for a night of food, drinking, and friends. Cindy felt a pain in her lower lip and realized she was biting down on it thinking of her mishap just a few short weeks ago. The sensuality of the memory was so fresh in her mind she had practically relived it right there on the examination table of the doctor’s office. She looked down at her protruding belly resting on her thighs and gave it a soft and sensual rub. It had become incredibly erotic to her to rub her belly, feeling the softness, feeling the tenderness, brushing over her stretch marks. It had become her favorite thing to do after a day of non-stop eating, or a night of intense beer drinking. She had nervously shared this information with her boyfriend, Jason, whom she noticed had began looking at her differently as she continued growing larger. “This is weird… but I kind of like it,” she started tentatively, after a night of bingeing not only movies, but cookies, cakes, and ice cream. She didn’t want to make eye contact as she explained her seemingly uncanny feelings about her expanding girth to her boyfriend, so instead looked down at bloated gut extending out. Jason smiled, “What’s not to like? It’s the greatest comic heroes of all time in a two and half hour epic film!” He motioned toward the TV screen. “Not the movie, you big dope!” She giggled, the tension seemingly relieved for a moment. “This…” She lifted up the shirt that was straining to contain her stomach. Her stretchy yoga pants came up to her belly button, causing a handful of fat to spill over. She pulled it out and finally felt free. She didn’t know if it was the constrain of her pants or the feelings she was sharing with Jason. Cindy gave her pudgy stretch marked belly a grab. “It feels so nice, you know?” Jason stared at her, jaw nearly on the floor, as she continued, “I’ve noticed you looking at me differently. Like a puppy dog, or something. And whenever we’re intimate, you seem to pay more attention to it…” “I’m sorry, I mean, if you don’t like it, if it makes you self-conscience or whatever I can totally just stop. Ignore it, focus on your, uh – “ he paused and looked at her voluminous breasts that had grown a minimum of two cups sizes over the course of their relationship and finished, “—other assets.” Cindy moved from next to Jason on the loveseat and climbed on top of him, straddling him, her bare belly exposed and pressing up against him. She flipped back her long, dark hair and kissed him passionately. She grabbed his hand and placed it on her love handle. “It’s a whole lot to ignore, don’t you think?” She whispered in his ear seductively, while starting to grind on him. “I know you like it, Jason. And I want you to know I like it too.” Jason moaned in pleasure, getting excited at both Cindy grinding on him and her words. His open invitation would not be declined. He grabbed Cindy by her chubby love handles and forced her down harder on him. He ran her hands over her fat tummy, his fingers sinking into the softness. He ran over her stretch marks intently, as if he was reading Braille. She whispered in his ear, “I want you to play with all of this fat.” The thought of how perfect, how intimate, how sexually liberating that encounter had been was interrupted by footsteps coming down the hallway of the doctor’s office. Cindy composed herself and sat up a little straighter, sucking her protruding gut in a as much as she could. Her heart was beating with excitement from the milestones of her sensual weight gain journey just moments ago, but now from fear and dread of the doctor. The footsteps grew louder and louder and then stopped. She heard the doorknob turn, the door creak and in walked the doctor. The doctor looked at Cindy confused, back down at the chart, and then back to Cindy. Her eyebrows raised as she subtly shook her head and went and sat at her desk and opened up Cindy’s file. Although it had been some time since Cindy last saw Dr. Annakova, she looked remarkably similar. The doctors short auburn hair was shoulder length. She was tall and her white lab coat hid most of her body, but Cindy could tell the doctor was in what would be considered exemplary shape. “Cindy Cross,” the doctor said, still facing the computer monitor, “Just a check-up, today?” She turned and looked at Cindy. She felt her stare burrow into her fat body, sizing it up, and felt her second-hand embarrassment for the once slender girl who now was proportional to a whale. “Yes, Dr. Annakova,” Cindy said, “and I just needed my allergy prescription refilled.” “Shouldn’t be a problem… Hm. I thought it was just an error by the nurse but now that I’ve seen you…” The doctor trailed off, pivoting around to face Cindy from her computer chair. “Have you been experiencing any sort of depression lately? Any anxiety? Any major life changes?” “No, Doctor,” Cindy answered, but she wasn’t naïve. She understood what the doctor was getting at but chose to play along, “Why do you ask?” “Well,” the Doctor looked back at the computer and thought for a moment, “the last time you were here was April of last year, about fifteen months ago.” “Yes?” “Well, Cindy,” the doctor looked solemnly from the computer to the chart and then back at Cindy, focusing on her belly poking out of her shirt engulfing the top of her thighs, “Do you have any idea what you weighed when you were in here last?” Probably 140. Cindy thought to herself. But she wanted to continue to play along, to beat around the bush in order to avoid any more humiliation, albeit it seemed inevitable. Instead she shook her head “no.” “Last visit you were 138 pounds on a 5 foot 7 inch frame. Perfectly healthy. But now… the reason I asked if you’ve been under stress or anxiety, you’ve put on a, well, considerable, amount of weight. 122 pounds from your last visit to be exact,” the doctor said somberly, as if she was telling someone they had cancer. “That’s an exorbitant amount of weight in under a year and a half. As you can imagine, I’m very concerned for you. I want to run some tests. If you haven’t been exhibiting any signs of mental distress I’m concerned this may be hormonal.” Cindy interjected, “I don’t really think all that’s necessary, doctor.” Dr. Annakova looked at her, “No offense.” “What do you mean, Cindy? You’re my patient. I want to do what’s best for you. Unless…” “Look, I know I’ve gained a few pounds. Life’s been good. I’m really stable, have a great relationship. I overindulge a little bit, but I’m not too concerned about it. Really, I just came for my allergy medication.” “A few pounds? Overindulged a little bit? Cindy, you’ve nearly doubled your weight!” Dr. Annakova exclaimed, her face growing red with frustration. “Do you realize how bad this is? The risks associated with your obesity?” The doctor continued explaining the risks and downfalls of rapid weight gain and obesity, the importance of a balanced diet and exercise, but Cindy tuned it out. Obesity, she thought. I’ve gotten so fat, I’m officially obese!? Why is that both disturbing and so incredibly hot? And why am I so hungry? I hope Jason takes me to Burger King after this. I could totally do a few burgers and fries. Oh! And a big chocolate shake for dessert! No, I’ll just use that to wash down the burgers and fries and then we can get a cheesecake for dessert from Nino’s downstairs. Oh God, that would be so good. I’ll be so full and he can stroke and kiss this big fat belly and make love to his big fat girlfriend, watching all this lard jiggle as I moan… The doctor finished her chastisement and stood up. “Let’s have a look at you shall we? I’d like you to remove your shirt.” Cindy snapped back from her seemingly endless thought stream of all things fat and once again felt panic. She hesitated for a moment, and looked at Dr. Annakova. She fastened the stethoscope to her ears and stated, “I need to check your heart and with all that breast tissue it’ll be hard enough. Removing a layer of clothing will help me get a better read.” Reluctantly Cindy agreed and began pulling off her shirt. Her belly was momentarily suspended as she lifted above her pendulous breasts but, once free, slapped down hard onto her thighs with a plop, ripples seismically moving through her chub. The effort of taking off her shirt had disoriented her too tight bra, and took a moment to adjust, putting as much of the mass of spilling boobage back into the cups as possible, but seemingly to no avail. The tops of her areolas still poked out of the bra, the light pink stretch marks streaking vertically from them. Once she was as adequately adjusted as possible the doctor reached over and placed the cold stethoscope between her breasts, her tiny hand being almost completely obscured. After a few moments she stopped and removed the device. “Your heart sounds fine, at least,” Dr. Annakova said. She turned her attention to Cindy’s hanging belly and gave it a pinch. “Look at this! All this fat! Do you know what these are?” The doctor poked Cindy’s stretch marks that resembled crescents that started just millimeters from her now cavernous belly button and grew larger as they expanding out towards her hips. “I think those are just marks from my mattress or something,” Cindy said earnestly, knowing well they were scars brought about by her skin stretching from her immense weight gain over a relatively short period of time. “No! These are striae! Stretch marks! Pregnant women get them when they have another human being growing inside of them! But yours are just from getting too fat too fast! I suppose you’ve gained enough weight for a whole other human being… but this is evidence! How could you not see you were getting so fat? You’re bursting out of the clothes you’re wearing, I’m sure they’re not the first either!” Cindy turned red, humiliated, infuriated, and extremely turned on, “Well, doctor, I have a very flexible income. I’m able to buy things as I need them.” “Then I suggest you take a trip, young lady. I received complaints from a patient of mine that's in here with her toddler son. The amount of skin – of fat! – you’re showing off in public is inappropriate.” “I’ll take that into consideration. Thank you. Can I get my prescription now?” Dr. Annakova scoffed as she took out her prescription pad and furiously scribbled the order. “Here it is. I want to see you in three months! If you haven’t lost weight by then I’ll no longer accept you as my patient. There are healthy eating and exercise pamphlets out front, and other resources online. Don’t do it for me, do it for yourself, Cindy. You were such a beautiful girl and now… you’re an obese fatty! Now please, go! I have other patients to see.” Cindy squeezed back into her shirt and exited the doctor’s office. As we waddled through the waiting room she caught the patients staring at her, watching her wide hips sway, the belly sticking out from under her shirt jiggle, and her boobs bounce. The woman that had complained grabbed her child and covered his eyes, but the young boy pushed her hand away and stared at her in awe. Cindy smiled to herself as she walked out and got into the passenger side of Jason’s car. “So… how was it?” He asked. “Could have been worse. I’ll tell you all about it later. Right now, let’s get something to eat. “ “That’s my girl,” Jason said as he reached over and gave her chunky thigh a loving squeeze. The End…?