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Angel Locsin is a Filipina actress. She was known as FHM’s Sexiest Filipina in 2005 and 2010 and was in the Top 10 for 14 years. She also played the super hero Darna in the 2000s. But recently, she started trending for the weight she’s gained. Here’s her gradual weight gain over the years FHM’s Sexiest

Souhila Garnier (née Souhila Jasmine or Souhila Jasmine B. / Souhila Jasmine Ben) is an Afro-French Youtube beauty & high-retail fashion vlogger and beauty contest pageant. Being of Algerian descent, she competed in 2012 for the beauty pageant contest 'MISS ALGERIA LONDON' where she has been elected finalist. A couple of years ago, she married and found a family... since then, she claimed having gained several dozens of pounds.

The 34-years old South Korean singer and musical actress has undergone a dramatic weight fluctuation, gaining and losing about 60 pounds.

My name is Kat, and I'm so happy to be on curvage now! It's been a long journey for me to get to the point I am today, dealing with ED(s) and then being ill all of 2019. Even a year ago the thought of gaining weight did not come with a positive reaction from me. When I met my boyfriend a few years ago, he was upfront about preferring bigger women. I basically told him that would never be me and to take me or leave me. Luckily he was patient and slowly helped me change my perspective on beauty. After 11 months of battery being able to eat thanks to a lovely organ called a gallbladder, I was finally getting an appetite back and for the first time was excited about being hungry. In October 19, I told him I wanted to gain at least a little bit, because I hated the way my body looked. I was too skinny, too weak looking. By January I was a healthy weight again and loved it for the first time in my life, and wanted to keep going. I'm so happy my boyfriend convinced me to start gaining, I've never felt sexier or more confident and can't wait to share the experience with you all! ❤️ *Edited to clarify*

Hi loves! So, this week I'm left to my own devices as my boyfriend goes and visits family. I thought it would be fun to try and push myself while he's gone and see if I can be noticably bigger when he gets back. 😊😊 This is probably the hardest challenge I've done, I really don't enjoy cooking, especially only for one person, and my old habits generally only had me eat once a day when I was alone. I'll need lots of reminders to eat, if anyone wants to volunteer as tribute 😉 Once I'm verified I'll be posting a video (s) of my progress this week. Happy gaining lovelies 😘

Hi! How do I grow my belly?

Growing Round Chapter 1: Does any of you know how hard it is to keep a farm afloat? Because I sure do. Harvey Sanders, happily married, father of 2, owner of the the Sanders Family farm passed down for generations. We’ve not been doing so great recently, that’s for sure. Some taxes here, some bills there, and very soon it becomes very hard to keep up. Plus, the amount of fresh products I need to cultivate each day is, I’ll just say, too much. But I keep up. I keep up with the cultivation each year because it has become my family’s legacy. My father wanted me to keep up, and so wanted my grandpa. They both put so much sweat and blood in this gigantic project that I could never think of turning it down. And so, for the past 38 years, I’ve been hard at work making this dream work. May 38th. I was just done with the carrots when I felt my wife, Elena, give my shoulder a light tap. ‘You should be careful with this sun’ she starts as she hands me a fresh lemonade. ‘I think we both remember how it went down last year.’ I cringed as I remembered last summer’s heat stroke. ‘That’s a good point. Remind me to pick a hat tonight, hun’ ‘The sun will not wait for tonight. You’re getting your hat now’ she scolded as she gave me “the look”. If there was anything I’ve learned during these past 14 years of marriage, it was that if I ever see “the look”, then there was no room for discussions. As we headed down the fields, I stopped as I saw the familiar black RV I’ve gotten accustomed to parked down the alley. ‘Oh...’ Elena looked towards me with her clear blue eyes. ‘It’ll be fine honey, you know what to say.’ I carefully ran my hand down her golden hair, before giving here a kiss. ‘You know it.’ I opened the two front doors, greeting Mr Johnson and his redhead secretary Scarlet. “Good evening Mr.Johnson. How may I help you tonight?’ ‘Take a seat, Harvey. I have other stuff to do, we need to get going fast’ ‘Al... Alright’ I answered awkwardly as I guided them both to the dining table. I watched as my boss sat down. Next to his intimidating figure was his secretary’s, way smaller and slimmer than him. Scarlet was holding her belly, with a perceivable grimace on her face. As I’ve said, I’m a father of two. I know a hungry girl when I see one. ‘Don’t worry, Scarlet. You can have some of these if you wish’ I said as I handed her the jam puffs lying in the middle of the table, waiting to be eaten. ‘Oh, thank you so much, Harvey, but I’m on a diet... I really shouldn’t...’ ‘Oh please, they’re a fresh batch! I need somebody to give me their opinion, anyway!’ ‘Oh, if you insist...’she said, as she reached for a puff. ‘Harvey, please, there’s no time for jam puffs of anything. There’s only time for business right now.’ I had forgotten about my boss, still waiting for our discussion to continue. ‘Of course, sir... Yes, what is it?’ ‘I’ll be brief, Harvey, the harvest isn’t going fast enough. We need more food, and way faster.’ ‘Faster? But sir! This is a farm we’re talking about! This is something out of my reach...’ ‘Well then, Harvey, I can maybe satisfy my inverstors by offering you a quite interesting deal of...’ ‘The farm’s not for sale.’ I stood, firmly. ‘We already went through this.’ ‘Things are how they are, Harvey. Those are the only two solutions, and you know it.’ ‘I’ll... I’ll make it go faster. You have my word.’ ‘Well then’ my boss finished as he stood up. ‘You better get to work now. I guess I’ll see you again in two months, Harvey.’ ‘Yes sir. See you then’ I was so focused on our face to face that I failed to notice all the jam puffs were gone. All 5 of them. I looked up, finding one in Scarlet’s hand, some jam still remaining on the corner of her lips. ‘See you next week, Harvey!’ I was surprised, to say the least. Didn’t she say she was on a diet?’ Chapter 2: I still remember that cool summer breeze coming through as I sat down in front of my porch, all alone. I didn’t know what I could possibly do next. That was until the wind brought to me a peculiar page, that seemed ripped off of a magazine. My eyes were directed towards a smiling face, happily showing a bag full of colorful food. The smiling face was owned by a thin woman, dressed in a peculiar white blouse decorated with a colorful ribbon. The title read ‘Having problems with your growth? Call Demeter, the goddess of harvest!’ Now I didn’t know what any of this meant, but there wasn’t any way of denying this seemed like this ‘goddess of harvest’ was a solution worth a shot. Intrigued, I called the number, and booked a meeting at my farm the next day. I went back to sleep, next to my wife, wondering what that was all about. Surely, it wouldn’t be anything life changing, right? ‘So you have this... Sketchy businesswoman a call? Is that it’ Elena didn’t like this idea, at all. ‘I mean, we’re already screwed, anyway. I figured it may be worth a shot, right?’ ‘Still, I just... don’t like this idea, really...’ She paused for a moment. ‘It’s like... Something is about to explode.’ ‘Mommy! I’m hungry!’ We we’re cut off by Lisa, one of our little angels. I raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out what Elena meant before she rushed back towards the kids. Incidentally, we heard a loud knock on our front door. I turned towards Elena, piercing me with a murderous gaze. ‘It better not be expensive.’ I gulped are that remark. I opened the door, expecting the said goddess of harvest, but I couldn’t find her anywhere. The person that was there, instead, was an enormous woman, maybe five times the weight that goddess was supposed to be. ‘Harvey, I presume!’ She greeted me gleefully. If there was any first impression I had of this woman, excluding her looks, it was her very jovial and welcoming tone and attitude. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear!’ She then invited herself inside the house, I was left quite shocked, I’ll say, as I watched her entire body wiggle with every heavy footstep she took. I looked down, seeing she was wearing... Heels? How were they keeping up with that much weight? ‘Will you stop contemplating, honey? We have a lot of work to do!’ I stood there, analyzing her face and clothes. It really was the woman on the picture. Just... Many sizes up. ‘So that’s about it’ I finsihed my story, hoping she could help me with my harvest problem. ‘Do you think you can help me?’ ‘Why, yes, my dear. Of course I can. I’m surprised you’re even asking, after all, harvest is in my title!’ She started laughing heavily, her basketball sized breasts jiggling with every breath. ‘Now now, we just need a bit of this...’ She looked down her rainbow purse, and grabbed a tiny jar that seemed to contain some sort of... Shiny powder? She then started emptying the jar around the plantations, letting the shiny powder flow through the air. ‘Wait!’ I screamed. ‘What are you doing! If any of this gets on my plantations, it may stop the growth...’ ‘Will you shut these sweet lips of yours, honey? I am certainly helping you, here.’ ‘Ok, ok, whatever. Are we done, now?’ ‘No, no. Not. Even. Close.’ She got closer with each word, letting her sausage finger lay on my lips, telling me to stop complaining. ‘Honey, do you know how harvesting works?’ ‘Why, yes, it’s sunlight, oxygen, wat...’ ‘No, honey, no. Harvest is an exchange. An exchange between the earth, and you.’ ‘Uhm...’ I had some trouble following. ‘Ok...’ ‘But! The earth is very generous, it gives you more than you give them! What we want to do right now, is to give them back. As you harvest, the earth will harvest too, and all will grow as desired!’ ‘That’s good... So, what’s next?’ ‘Say, honey, you’re married, aren’t you?’ ‘Yes!’ I nearly choked, surprised by that sudden question. ‘If you choose to go with your loved one, the earth will only be more generous. The more you love, the more earth will give!’ ‘I am not following, but that’s fine...’ I just wanted to get over with this meeting. That big woman was sprouting nonsense. ‘How much do I owe you?’ I’ll get my payment later, hun. After all, I am said to leave my customers full.’ Chapter 3: ‘Harvey, pass me some salad, will you?’ Elena asked, holding her hand up. ‘Again? You sure seem hungry tonight, hun!’ ‘Oh, not really. That salad you took today just seems... More tasty than usual.’ ‘Really?’ I asked as I gave it another bite. ‘Seems normal to me.’ ‘I don’t want salad!’ Liza started whining, desperate. ‘Liza, it’s salad. Eat.’ Elena really didn’t want to go through this. ‘No! Mommy, it’s poison!’ continued Mina, our younger daughter. ‘Don’t eat, mommy!’ ‘It’s fine.’ Elena sighed as she continued emptying her plate, not paying attention to her daughter. ‘It’s dad’s. There’s no poison. Now eat.’ Strangely, Elena seemed to be... Hungrier than usual, if that makes sense? I just wasn’t used to see her go with such an appetite... Of course, that couldn’t mean nothing. I shrugged it off, and went back to my own plate, not suspecting what was going to happen next... The following days, I started noticing some improvements with the plantations. True to her words, it seemed like Demeter did make plantations go slightly faster after all. Things were definitely going better than I anticipated. ‘Mmh, the pumpkins are looking bloated, aren’t they?’ I looked back towards my wife, who was currently munching on some shrimps or something. The pumpkins didn’t really seem like the bloated ones here. Elena’s belly seemed way wider than I was used to. ‘Y... Yes. Here’s hoping they will be ready for the Biggest Pumpkin contest, next week. ‘They probably will.’ She pointed towards the roundest one. ‘I’m betting on this one. I feel like a connection going on! It’s my girl, she got it!’ ‘Ha, well, here’s hoping.’ I laughed too. ‘You’ll probably be right, as always.’ And right she was. The week afterwards, as we headed towards the contest, the pumpkin was the biggest I have ever seen. And strangely, this situation reminded me of something else. ‘Look! It’s so big now!’ Exclaimed Elena, our two kids on her lap. They seemed to enjoy it more than usual, seeing as how her now meaty legs were being used as cushions. Elena’s whole body seemed way plumper, and rounder nearly everywhere. I got surprised to see her breasts start peaking out of her shirt, like they wanted some fresh air... We won the contest, with no surprises. As the mayor started speaking, I could hear the words of some townsfolk, not very happy with my victory. ‘Harvey’s pumpkin is looking hella big.’ ‘Just like his wife, I mean, just look at her!’ ‘Jesus, what is happening to poor Elena?’ ‘Harvey must feed her well. Let’s just hope she doesn’t keep on growing.’ And growing, she did. As the days passed, her belly was getting rounder, her thighs, breasts and ass were also keeping up with it, filling out the clothes she had. Being the supportive husband that I was, of course, I decided to... Not tell her anything. She didn’t seem to notice she was growing, so there wasn’t any reason to make her panic. Therefore, I headed towards a local clothing shop, hoping to find some fitting clothes. However, what I found instead was none other than the goddess of Harvest herself. Chapter 4: ‘Harvey ! Honey! How are you and your... wife of yours.’ ‘F... Fine. Absolutely fine.’ She raised her eyes, noticing I wasn’t looking through the regular aisle, but rather the bigger sizes. ‘Is everything growing to your likings?’ ‘Growing? Yeah. Things are totally growing, and...’ I stopped, realizing that woman may be up to something, after all. ‘It’s my wife. She’s, let’s say, eating more than usual.’ ‘Ho ho ho! Why, well, that’s a good sign, darling! That’s only part of the game! I’m guessing that harvest of yours is doing fine too!’ ‘Yes, but how did you...’ and in a flash, everything started to make sense. Just like that. ‘That exchange of yours, is that what you were talking about?’ ‘Why, yes, darling ! As your loved one grows, so does your harvest! It’s an exchange, just like I told you!’ ‘Wait, this can’t be! So my wife, grew fat because...’ ‘Is growing’ she cut me. ‘The process is only getting started! ‘Wha... But the harvest is perfect as is! I don’t need any more harvesting, and I don’t want my wife to become a human balloon! It needs to stop!’ ‘Why darling, that is not possible. The exchange only works a certain way. You cannot control it. Who do you think you are, a god?’ She continued laughing, even louder than usual. ‘No, no... But don’t worry, darling. A woman like her. A bit of... Curves!’ She said as she bounced her giant hip. ‘It won’t hurt her.’ ‘I...’ I was speechless. The only thing I could do was continue shopping. Just like that, I left the gigantic lady. ‘Oh, and one last thing, darling!’ She stopped me, before I went. ‘Those clothes of yours,’ she said as she pointed towards the big dress I was holding. ‘They won’t be even remotely enough. Aim higher!’ She laughed, as she directed me towards the plus size aisle. Chapter 5: I woke up, surprised by the smooth chirping of the birds next to my window. ‘Did you sleep well honey?’ I was surprised by that voices, that seemed stronger than the one that I was accustomed to. I understood, as I turned around and faced my wife’s double chin. ‘Hun, that gown of yours, it’s...’ ‘Hmm? What’s wrong with my gown, she said, looking around herself, not noticing anything different than usual... except her skin was litterally fighting with the fabric, starting to create shreds down the sides, and letting my wife’s now soft flesh passing through. My wife had become quite an overweight woman. ‘I mean, just look at you, it’s...’ She ignored me, as she started eating down an apple pie that was waiting for her next to the bed. I wasn’t surprised, as I ralrely saw her do anything other than eat recently. ‘And stop overeating, ok!’ I snapped, getting rid of the plate in her hands. Suddenly, the now plump cheeks of my wife turned red. ‘What are you doing! Give it back!’she tried reaching for the plate, as I raised it up in the air. She quickly went out of breath, seeing as she couldn’t reach that apple pie she so wanted. ‘I know I may have gotten... chubbier, recently.’ ‘I nodded. Even though chubby was an extreme understatement at this point.’ ‘But I’ll exercise, and lose the weight, is this alright?’ I sighed, and left her be with her pie. There wasn’t anything I could do after all. I opened the front door as I heard it knock, travelling Mr.Johnson himself! And his... Secretary? Scarlet, just like Elena, had been going up a few wardrobes, seeing at how big she was getting. Did it have anything to do with the harvest? Was it another of Demeter’s plans? No... it couldn’t. I started thinking rapidly, and realized... The reason why Scarlet started eating again in the first place was because she... Failed keeping up with her diet? And whose fault was it? Oh yeah... It was mine. To the surprise of nobody, my boss was happy with the harvest. I greeted both of them as they left my house, and watched poor scarlet as she seemed troubled to enter the car and sit down properly, without making a mess with her huge body. As I headed down the farm, I noticed the winner pumpkin. We brought it back after the contest, as a souvenir. ‘Wait... Was it always this big?’ Chapter 6: September had come, and the harvest was flourishing. Never in the farm’s career had crops been this good. ‘Mommy ! Let me grab you! It’s like you’re floating!’ I turned around, seeing my beautiful wife and my two amazing children, enjoying the new swimming pool we were able to afford with the recent rise in our fundings. I must say, things were amazing. ‘Are you done with the sweet peas?’ I turned around, coming face to face with my beautiful wife. She was nothing like the Elena I used to know, showing as this new body of hers resembled more a water balloon than any other thing I used to know. Her gigantic breasts jumped up and down as she walked. Her belly seemed to be overflowing, pushing against the tight fabric of her orange one piece swimsuit. Her has had become two big soft orbs, becoming quite handy whenever you’d like to sit down, and her thighs seemed meetier and juicier than any piece of meet I’ve ever seen. ‘Not yet hun, one more minute’ I leaned towards, hoping for a kiss. But as she leaned too, her swimsuit’s sides shred again, revealing her ever expanding body. ‘Again?’ I thought. That was litterally the biggest size they had in stores. ‘Good luck finding a new one’ I thought to myself. ‘Oh! Don’t you worry, miss sanders! These things happen often to me too!’ A quote that wasn’t surprising, considering who it was coming from. ‘Oh, good afternoon, Demeter!” Answered my wife, forgetting about the shameful incident that just happened. ‘Go change yourself, dear! I’ll have a quick talk with your handsome husband, here...’ And with these words, my wife waddled he way out of the scene. ‘I’ve got to give it to you. Things are going well right now.’ ‘Of course they are! After all, my services have always worked perfectly, even for me !’ She laughed as she gave her belly a loud slap, making the whole thing wobble. I smirked, making the connections in my head. ‘Anyways, hun. I can see that harvest of yours has been a real success. The results are a real treat.’ ‘Yes, and my tomatoes are...’ ‘I wasn’t talking about your vegetables, dearie.’ ‘Ah...’ I stopped, thinking for a minute. ‘Good thing it’s not getting any bigger, now, or else...’ ‘Who said it was over, dear? It may be slowing down. But only stops at a certain point.’ I freezed, surprised by that answer. ‘A certain point? When?’ ‘Pop’. Demeter then left the scene, just like she came, and that was the last I’ve ever heard of her. ‘That big, huh?’ I smirked, looking at the winner pumpkin, now the size of a house.

Hey Everyone, I'm an emerging author of fat stories. Currently, I have some work out on Fantasy Feeder, and on Kindle/Kindle Unlimited. Unfortunately, I can't post my stories on here due to the Terms & Services of having my work enrolled on KDP select which, for me, is helpful in reaching a lot of new readers in international markets. But I've activated a free promotion on Amazon for the next 24 hours, which releases my first novella Perception Deception for free for anyone - not only Kindle Unlimited members. Thank you to all who can spare the time to give it a read! Description: Short. Petite. Thin. If she isn't my type, I won't swipe." After getting bored with his same-old-same-old sex life, 25-year-old f**kboi Harold decides to mix it up, downloading a new and advanced dating app called BLNDR ("It Blends, It Blinds!"). On it, he sees Camilla, a small-town girl who seems like his type "to a T", and he asks if she'd go on a date. Outside of BLNDR, he finds out his "small-town" girl isn't so "small". He knows he isn't into fat girls…or is he?" --------- Excerpt (10% of the novella): She catfished because she was desperate for a date. Tragic. I must show this pudge-pile a good night regardless of how revolting her obesity is. She chose me, and not only because I'm handsome, but because all women know I'm a cut above the rest. Harold nodded to himself, his chivalrous duty superseding his withering libido as the motivator of the night. "Hm," Camilla said, cocking her hip to the side as she swung her titanic weight from foot to foot. She flopped one drooping grain-sack arm across her chest, resting it on the crest of her belly's uppermost bulge. She nestled a plump hand into the creased crook of her elbow, the candy-apple red nails peeking out the other side. With her other hand, she placed a painted sausage to the corner of her mouth, thinking. "Something wrong, my dear?" Harold asked in his best impression of a man not on the verge of losing his sanity. "We-lll," she held the final syllable to collect her thoughts. "It's just that, and I'm NOT superficial, but you're much shorter than you said on your profile," she said while evaluating. Looking him up and down sent her sub-chins wobbling in mock affirmation of her assessment like a trio of doughy yes-men. Shifting her weight once more with an oceanic undulation across her body, she took a step toward Harold. Her gut was unyielding as it forced a sharp grunt from him. She leaned closer, pinning him against the counter, studying his face, her pursed painted lips red as a stop sign. At that moment, Harold realized with a rushing sense of dread that despite being a foot taller than her and in significantly better shape, she eclipsed him in physical stature. The pressure of her weight on him was a threat to his own ego, and regardless if it was another man or his own morbidly obese date, Harold wouldn't let anyone size him up and push him around. He glowered at her, twin twinkling jades buried in the fat folds, a jeering glint visible. She's testing me! Harold's mind reeled. How's a tub like her not intimidated by me? In Harold's expectations, validated by years of such experience, women yielded to his self-confidence, not challenged him. Of all the dates he had wined, dined, and enjoyed supine, no one had ever given him a look like Camilla did now—quiet dominance, which posed a challenge to the agreed-upon social hierarchy with Harold perched above all others. Harold tried to rise to his full height, intending to tower above Camilla and look down on her, but as he attempted to climb from his casual slouch on the counter, it forced him to grapple with an opponent far beyond his weight class: her gut. His arms trembled from the strain as he shoved against the veritable wall of flesh. What started with Harold hoping to gain leverage or relief, became a wrestling match in which his loss risked her fatness consuming him. Sickened by her sucking blubber and mortified to recognize that Camilla's crushing weight was more than he could lift, it humiliated him to submit to her. Her pressing folds on his chest forced him to lean further back on the counter, hoping to salvage his ribs and lungs from being crumpled under her heft, being forced to his ego behind to be crushed beneath her. Being rendered helpless as a rabbit in a wolf's jaw enraged him. Domination was as unfamiliar to him as diet soda was to her. His bulging eyes burned with a smoldering fury as they fixated on her taunting smirk bracketed by bulbous cheeks. Camilla met Harold's burning hateful eyes with her own calculating and dispassionate gaze. After a few moments, it calmed him, her focus somehow dousing his anger. Unperturbed by the exchange, she giggled, as light and resonant as a chime tinkling in a gentle breeze, and so concluded the tense exchange with an arbiter's finality. "You're cute, I'll give you that—little boy," the quip stressed with a long-lashed wink. She began steering her bulk in reverse. Harold felt the burn in his chest from having to hold his breath, but he still refused to suck the sweet, refreshing air his lungs howled to taste. To do so would show weakness, he decided, and thus he maintained a debonair smirk on his face while surreptitiously sucking in air from the corner of his mouth. His chest ached, but it was difficult to say which was more bruised from Camilla's display—his ribs or ego. Fat bitch! his mind screeched in rage. I underestimated this warthog. "Yes, well, I believe there may have been... misrepresentations on both parts in our profile, it's fair to say," Harold said from behind his teeth-shattering tight smile. Camilla quirked her head at Harold's words, wry amusement and curiosity flitted across her face. "Let's get something to eat. I'm starved after that movie," Camilla said without a trace of irony. Harold was gobsmacked. Taking her out to eat would disgust him, if not bankrupt him. But I have a duty, he reminded himself. "I can only imagine how hungry you must be," he said, clearing his throat before adding "wouldn't want you to waste away." Her reply was more musical laughter before swinging her bulk against him, throwing a massive wobbling cheek into his groin. "How thoughtful," she purred. "Harry, you're tall," she said, her tone carrying an undercurrent of mocking mirth. "Look over the crowd. Find the bathroom for me? If you can. I'm so short and petite that I couldn't make it through this crowd on my own," she said, emphasizing with a staggering thrust of her butt that almost knocked him to the floor. "It's Harold," he corrected her with a terse edge behind his tight smile while trying to lean away from her quivering backside. "Let me find it for you," he said while stealing a sly peek to make sure she wasn't looking. Confident that her eyes were elsewhere, he stretched to his full height, leaning forward on his toes for the few extra inches he needed to see over the top of the packed lobby. Spotting the sign for the Women's room, he points over her head. "That way. Should I wait for you here?" he asked. With a final back-thrust into Harold followed by a gyrating shimmy of flesh, she takes her first laborious step forward. "I think you should go and, ahem, clean yourself up as well before dinner, Harry," she informs him. Her eyebrow cocked above a discerning emerald darting in Harold's direction. Mortified, he drops his heels flat to the ground, hoping that she didn't see his inability; but as she begins her slow shuffle off towards the bathroom, he realizes she wasn't looking at his feet. Aside from his height, his body had betrayed him in another, more unexpected, way. The bulge nudging against his zipper siphons the strength from his knees, and he rushes to the Men's room on wobbling uncertain legs to "adjust" himself. It could happen to anyone, he reassured himself. It was a lot of motion and stimulation down there, it wasn't because of her! He pleaded with himself to believe such logic, but a nagging suspicion couldn't be abated. Full Story - Perception Deception Other Works

Looks like Alicia Vikander hasn't escaped the Covid-15 either. It''s particularly noticeable in her belly, arms and face: Before and after:

Let's see who can make Rubi Rose as big as possible

My girlfriend of a few years started to put on the first extra kilos

She used to be slim in 2015. Nowadays she's thick. I suppose she has been eating well.

Then: Now:

Lately, I've just registered myself into a new forum and I feel an urge to share my experience evolving into this cyber-community as far. Just a week ago, I discovered an African-American owned network of websites while randomly scrolling down my search engine page and just tell to myself: "Why not?" Stumbling into this new sub-world seemed almost cathartic to me, especially given my growing anxieties about just how much Curvage and other prominent Fat Admiration centered cyberplatforms in the Anglophonia (F.F. , F***ie, the more geriartic Dimensions Magazine, ecetera) spoke more-and-more volumes about their downsides as somewhat of a conandrum of the same cross-generational average North American gated community and the further it goes, the greater these implicit as much as micro-agressive cues-- let alone outright toxic fits of exclusionism didn't seat right to me: especially under the light of the recent social climate and especially about how we miss such an opportunity to open more bridges with an now-international class subculture of various groups, social classes and ethnicities. So, back to my point and a couple of clicks later, I was now a member of that popular platform. A section of the website is exclusively reserved to adult content. "Great" , I thought. I decided to probe my newfound social environment with what I do best in adult-reserved forums: dropping a content "dump" thread about gaining women (somebody did already posted a BBW-centered megathread and maintained it for years. Matter-of-factly... close from a three fifth of any thread content in that said section page was starring only but women evolving respectively from the rather planturous to full-figured to downright obese brackets of the size spectrum) . Followed by a whole introductory essay about the historicity of Fat Love, body fat cultivation and feedism within African and Diasporic cultures and how Pornhub was literally - and reportedly - making a insane lot of monetizing and assets over their BBW-savvy black male clientele. It caught the attention of a few lurkers. Gods have mercy: at last, I wasn't rubbing along with people rude enough to feel their inflated egoes (and c*cks) has been intimally bruised by my written speech cues/impediment and written Gallicisms like does a lot of Grammar Nazis, vexed forum gatekeepers - and borderline psychotic trolls - and other miserable vocal minorities lobbying for my expellation around here and over since... well, ever (and ultimately haven't helped those who long tried to persuade me the core factor of these repeated attacks aren't deep inside down but a "us-against-them" tier scenario rooted from a R-word/anti-non-native speaker thing) . And yet, my curiosity wasn't sasiated yet: consequently, I launched a discussion-centric rip-off of that said thread into a section broaching about relationship issues... a little success!! In just a matter of days, a dozen of different male forum members and moderators - and even a female mod - shared their different experiences from either end of the s*ze spectrum with such an almost seamless lack of shyness about it. For the first time in years, I had one of these girl-centered "room talks" with like-minded people and these people all happens to be black like me. No freakish schadenfreude fetish. No stalking "candids" taken stealtily. No young man frightened to let his relatives and social circles discovering he likes his women thickums or able to make a flight of stairs groan louder in agony than her. No celibate woman appalled to upsize a little too far from the norm just because this is the norm. No m******king mini-Klan of people offended because you barely compared male Spaniards's generic sexual preferabilities with those of black men. No one threatening to hack you and that you had to made understand you can give back Jesus style... just no people either when you are jokingly comparing yourself with the Christian God for the sake of bantering about it right into the Abyss when you got a recurrent forum member whose pseudonym is jesusofsurburbia. There, I could speak freely of my past dating experiences, trials and experiences without having anyone who derisively question it, implicits I've been lying or quell the higher-ups to trash them elsewhere and pull them out on the G-word checkmark like a cruxified martyr once you had the naiveté to come along with photographic evidence. Additionally, the moderators out there just seems so civilized: none of them have delusions of grandeur, neither a God complex, nor a limited empathetic interpersonal range neither or antisocial, scornfully dismissive toxic behavior. Which, Internet-wise, just seemingly alleges these people are high on some Wakanda s**t compared to every, single, effing cybergroup. They laugh at people as much they scoff between each other and hold the same no-bulls**t principles I have when someone play too much. Because yes, we're freaking barbarians in comparison and I have no qualms saying it. People have a lot to learn about them and just not using electronic technology and the broadsides of safe distance as a deshinibiting excuse to let their primal, antagonistic, nigh-sociopathic broadsides of their psyche left unchecked. Of course, I'm not portraying them as an utopia neither: just like a decent human society. Human. Is this the missing key behind every broadside of the contemporary online F.A. community in the Anglophonia? Its lack of open-mindedness, empathy and capability to showcase geniune humanity? Or is this just that either I - and most but likely a fair number of people who happens to be not white, English native-speaking and not fit to let the crowd let them break them down into the predominantly average North American mold - are just undergoing in this demimonde that constitutes the Internet (and therefore the online F.A. community) the less inhibited broadsides of a pitifully shared enmity culturally embedded within the collective mind of these hostile cells and single individuals? Just why does it feels so good and permeate to just going in there, like into a friendly barber shop, but not here?

Been mentioned in a few of her resents that she's been gaining some weight. It's not much but definitely a little softer Before gaining:

Hey everyone! I just wanted to have a space to share some fun pictures of my gain. I started this a journey awhile ago. I was a tiny girl who fell in love with gaining. These pictures are to show my gain through the last few years. Let me know if there’s anything you’d like to know. ❤️

Hi! I'm Jordan! I'm 26, a BBW, and totally new to this site. I was introduced to this place by my friend after she kept finding her pics posted here (yes, that friend). I've never been on a site like this before, but I've struggled with my weight for years, and ended up gaining a lot of weight over the past couple years, and now I look like this! I never really thought there were guys that would be into this? Or into me gaining weight? I'm not really a "feedee" and I'm not trying to gain weight, but I do love to eat lol, so I'm kinda fascinated that there's guys out there who like me for what I look like now. Anyways, here I am, and here's a couple photos of myself now, plus a few from before I gained the weight. Be nice!. 💋

This is a story I have been working on for a few weeks. It was intended to be a human-fantasy retelling of the Lafontaine's fable of the Weasel in the Mill, but I got caught with the world building and it's taking a new shape as it is written. I don't know how long I will build this up before the conclusion, but it's a fun little project. It's my first ''long term'' story, so feel free to comment and give me your input. Chapter 1 : a way in During the War of the Ashen Fields, countless refugees and victims of the conflict flooded the well-defended walled city, hoping to gain the protection of the king and his retinue. As they reached the famed capital of Malgoren, instead of help and protection, what they found was closed gates and repression. The newcomers quickly established themselves at the bottom of the massive city walls, villages and slums appearing overnight, growing like weeds around the roots of the ancient city. Yet, they were mercilessly refused entrance, only a handful of traders and officials were allowed to pass through the gates. The rest had nowhere to go, and survived from the trade that wouldn’t be allowed inside the pristine streets of the capital. The shanty towns were plagued by illicit trades, crime, prostitution, and hard, unsanitary industries that would repulse the sensitivities of the urban denizens of Malgoren. It was a scar on the kingdom, and a testimony of its ruler’s tyranny. Like many others born during the war, Sarya grew up as an orphan, scavenging the streets of the shanty towns surrounding the kingdom’s capital. She spent years surviving in the fringe of society, going through trash at first, then begging, stealing from merchants’ stalls, until she found her true calling as a pickpocket. She had a true gift for it, and after years of owning her skills, she stumbled into adulthood as a very successful thief, one of the few that retained her innocence in the eyes of the traders and the private guards they hired. No one suspected her, as she knew how to leverage her looks to her advantage to dismiss suspicion and go unnoticed. Rather short, Sarya had brown curly hairs waving down to her clavicles. Fair skinned apart from a few freckles, she had a cherubic face, with large blue expressive eyes and gorgeously plump lips. She enjoyed a slender and lean body, her shapely figure supporting a pert bosom, a narrow wasp-like waist, seductive hips, and a round and toned bottom. She was short and lithe, her nimble and spritely build allowing her to sneak with ease, to deflect any suspicion with her youth and airs of innocence, and to perform quick escapes when needed. When lesser thieves inevitably got caught, Sarya always managed to flee, running into an alleyway, slipping through a damaged fence, or vanishing into a narrow hideout, an escape path planned in advance by the clever rogue. If the clever pickpocket wasn’t necessarily the quickest or the most athletic, she was thoughtful and well prepared, never going for a target without some kind of emergency plan in case things went sour. In the worst case scenario, she even moved around Malgoren, jumping to a slum on the other side of the city if she aroused too much suspicion where she stayed. This methodical and prudent approach to thievery eventually made Sarya the most experienced and well-connected pickpocket in all the shanty towns. When her reputation began to spread in Malgoren’s underworld, her life quickly began to transform. Sarya was introduced by a contact to an illicit marketplace that was used as the liaison between the shanty towns’ shady trades, and the gated elites of the capital. Hidden in the abandoned dungeons of the old guard post, the Grey Market was only accessible by two specific entry points. One was a secret stairway that led to a fancy tavern inside Malgoren, the front of the whole operation. The city authorities thought that the former guard post was sealed and the dungeons collapsed, but criminal guilds had secured this ancient access and maintained the underground for their own use. The second access was much cruder, at the image of the community that used it. The passage leading to the slums was nothing but a wide crevice in the outer wall, large enough to allow single file passage to the malnourished young smugglers that used it daily. It was through this narrow slit, unknown to the guards, that contraband entered and left the city. When she learned the existence of this secret passage, Sarya’s mind went into motion, slowly building up an angle through which she could leverage this new connection. With the street urchins and petty thieves always getting caught outside in the slums, she realized that she more than simply experienced. She was safe, she was worthy of trust. Stolen goods were always in demand, and she happened to be the single stable element of the pickpocket world of outer Malgoren. Using her unparalleled reputation amidst the orphans and other thieves of the slums, Sarya began to buy most of the valuables that were taken in the shanty towns, and began moving them inside the Grey Market, introducing herself to all the resellers and some wealthy costumers in the dimly light stands of the illicit trading zone. Before long, she turned herself into the fence through which most of the stolen goods of the street reached the best buyers. She went by the alias of the Weasel, and she quickly realized that she just slithered inside the farmer’s granary. There was wealth to make for herself, and for the first time of her life, Sarya’s began to see a future for herself away from the squalor of poverty. Chapter 2 : filling the role It took only a few weeks for Sarya to begin to feel a drastic change in her lifestyle from her time as a street pickpocket. She was now turning a bigger profit than ever with much less work and risk, and with all this newfound wealth came new possibilities. The first thing the young fence did was to buy herself some fancy stolen clothes in the Grey Market, so she could begin to hide her modest origins and appeal to wealthier and more lucrative customers. Unfortunately, it appeared that the wealthy were of more well-fed proportions than the slender young woman. When Sarya finally found what she thought were clothes of the appropriate sizing, clothes she knew came from the carriage of a wealthy noble maiden of her age, the young and ambitious fence found that she was floating in the blouses and the dresses, and that the belt would simply slip off her narrow hips. The shapely young woman could fill the bust of her clothes decently enough, but her flat stomach and wasp-like waist were clearly much thinner than the midsection of the healthy urbanite she got the clothes from. The well fed noble girl certainly had a feminine softness around her tummy, while Sarya’s belly was as lean as it could be, making it easy to see her feline muscles flex under the skin anytime she moved. Unable to find anything of her size, the pretty criminal mastermind was forced to accept these awkwardly loose garments for a time, using the least grimy parts of her former pickpocket attire to keep everything from falling off her thin figure. She eventually came to the conclusion it was good enough for the current times, until she secured the fake papers needed to travel past the Grey Market and walk in Malgoren’ streets like a regular citizen. Sarya initially thought that once she could move inside the city, she would get herself something more fitting at a real tailor shop, even if she doubted she could afford such luxurious fabrics somewhere legit. Truth was, before she even left the Grey Market with her false papers in hand, she had completely forgotten these clothing issues, for she was filling her dresses quite elegantly. Since her shift of occupation from thief to fence, a few things changed in Sarya’s life, and the effects of those changes took some time to show. It was very subtle at first, subtle enough to leave the busy young woman unaware, but there was no hiding it for anyone that took attention; the Weasel was gaining weight. It appeared that spending your days darting through crowded marketplaces and rushing into alleyways to escape your victims involved a decent amount of exertion. While she used to jump over carriage, to run around the busy shops, and to climb on roofs to get good vantage points for nice targets, the former pickpocket’s intense exercise regimen had devolved into nothingness. Sarya’s new career replaced all of this workout with hours sitting in the shanty towns’ inns, waiting for stolen good drops by countless orphans and petty thieves. Even if her schedule was pretty busy, all this time spent sitting in inns and taverns also meant that the perky brunette was snacking quite a lot, if only so to keep up appearances. As former street urchin, she had spent most of her time on the brink of starvation. Her metabolism wasn't used to that much fuel with so little need for it, and her body quickly began stockpiling the goods all over her figure. The first things most people noticed were how her face looked healthier and her skin more radiant. Sarya always had been a pretty girl, but this newly well fed lifestyle transformed her into a real head turner for the modest folks of the shanty towns. Her warm smile was beginning to display a small dimple at the corner of her lush lips, which was most charming, everyone would agree. It was also pretty obvious to anyone that the already well developed bosom of this gorgeous girl was growing more luscious with each passing day. From the alluring and perky grapefruits the shapely thief used to leverage for her crimes, she was now beginning to support small melons, to the point her dresses were stuffed to the brim at the level of her chest. Her voluptuous charms were already testing the limits of the seams on her side, and forcing the charismatic fence to wear her blouses open at the top, at the great enjoyment of many tavern regulars, and a few very curious inn maids. But Sarya sizeable bosom wasn’t the only thing to grow. Her formerly slender figure was thickening at a quick pace, even if she didn’t really noticed the changes. If she wasn’t so busy planning her stellar rise into society, the curly haired rogue would have felt her body soften and get plumper ounce by ounce. When she removed her clothes before bed, she would have noticed that the toned and lean stomach she once had was now softer and slightly curving out, even when it was empty. She would have noticed how she could no longer quite see the lines of her abdominal muscles under the skin, how it all seemed blurred by a layer of plump flesh that would give slightly under the touch. She would have most certainly noticed how her hips and rump were fleshing out, and how they now swayed sensually when she walked. Apart for this, her thighs no longer had a visible gap between them, and they started to look quite round, like overstuffed sausages at the butcher’s market. Still, she didn’t noticed the changes, only looking at herself through the more and more appealing lenses of others, the ones constantly complimenting the young buxom lady for her elegant attire and her feminine looks. The dresses and clothes she used to struggle to keep on her bonny shoulders and narrow hips were now well-fitting, if not a bit snug around the chest and the bum. The former pickpocket was now supporting the figure of a pampered rich damsel, and was enjoying her well-endowed curves without second thoughts. Yet, there was a few among her thievery crew that were beginning to snicker behind her back, making fun of the well-fed looks and overindulgence of the one that used to be the best among them. They all knew very well what these ripe melons, soft hips, and thickened waist meant; the Weasel was off the thievery business, and they were pretty sure there was no coming back for her. More than a few toast were made at the departure of this mighty competitor, but not that Sarya knew. Chapter 3 : slender no more The day Sarya learned that her false papers were ready, she finished to put her business in order and prepared to move inside the city for good. She had been setting up a network of suppliers that would bring stolen goods in through the Grey Market, where she planned to keep buying and reselling the merchandise at a more permanent storefront. She was prepared to rent a room at the Three Calices, the wealthy tavern that was acting as front for the underground marketplace, but her goal was to find herself a real propriety inside the city walls, and escape permanently the squalor and poverty of her youth. She had everything well figured out, and Sarya was confident that her rags to riches story was all but written. The Weasel could disappear, lingering as a legend of the underworld, while Sarya would enjoy the respectability of wealth. As she made her way through the slums toward the secret passage in the walls, Sarya had to be careful not to draw too much attention. If she once could slip through the crowd unnoticed, the young buxom ex-thief was now pretty difficult to ignore for any onlooker. Her fancy dress displayed a cavernous cleavage that bounced in a wave-like motion at each and every step, while her broad and shapely hips swayed like a pendulum, her round and abundant bum firmly pressed against the taunt green fabric. Many eyes were glued to her curves, and she made more than a few head turn. She even noticed a few dim-witted cutpurses and street urchins begin to trail her like she was some kind of plump prey, before they eventually realized this voluptuous damsel was in fact the Weasel, an ill-advised target if they wanted to stay in business. Despite the additional difficulties of blending in with a figure of such well-endowed proportions, Sarya eventually managed to reach the narrow crevice in the wall through which the undesired such as herself had to enter the Grey Market. She hadn’t used it in two weeks, as she was waiting for her plan to unfold. If everything went as planned, it would also be the last time she had to use this illicit route, since her papers would allow her to go through the gates like the merchant class and the legal citizens of the capital. Sarya was eager to leave this lowly access behind her, especially as she noticed it wasn’t as practical to use as she remembered. The first times she used this clandestine route, she could walk through the crevice without any problem, even while carrying large bags of stolen goods from her illegal activities. Her slender waist and narrow hips wouldn’t even brush the edges of the slim gap in the stone. At worst, she remembered needing to shift her shoulders slightly to slip through the tightest part of the passage, and it was more a precaution than a real necessity. Her body was thin and nimble, capable to slither in much more cramped spaces than that. With a flat and toned stomach and modest curves, she was no different than any of the scroungers that were used to walk this path. As Sarya stood right in front of the secret passage, it seemed it was no longer the case. When she tried to step in the crack, Sarya felt her well-padded hips bump softy against the edges, causing her to bounce back with a confused look on her face. She noticed not without some surprise that her womanly hips were now slightly wider than the opening, and she was forced to slip sideways to manage to get inside the crevice. Even then, she noticed with increasing confusion that her body was too thick to move in the confined space without some issues. She could very clearly feel her large bum brush against the wall behind her, while her heavy bosom slid against the stone in front of her. It wasn’t like she had to squeeze her body or get constricted in any ways, but she was feeling very claustrophobic navigating this dark and cramped path. Even moving sideways, she was taking more space than she used to when she was her former much more slender self. She had to be very careful not to damage her dress, as she could sometime feel the fabric scrape against the rough stone. In a rare moment of self-consciousness, Sarya moved a hand to her stomach, noticing for the first time how it was curving outward significantly, and how its flesh was giving under her trembling touch. She really had gotten soft, she thought. If the rate of her weight gain should have worried her, Sarya’s mind quickly forgot how vulnerable and helpless she had felt in the narrow tunnel. As soon as she got through and entered the Grey Market, her large bosom popping through with a hearty bounce, the plump damsel dusted herself with a sigh of relief and mentally wished farewell to this slim crevice. It mattered little how constricted and uncomfortable she felt moving her lush figure through this passage, for she obviously would never have to use it again. There was absolutely no reason for her to worry about her newly developed curves. A well-fed physique suited her better, anyways. Her new papers now firmly in hand, the overfed ex-thief prepared herself to climb the flight of stairs that was separating her from the inside of the forbidden city. For the first time, Sarya was about to discover the world of the privileged, and she was eager to taste what this world had to offer. A ravenous smile stretched her plump lips, a dimple appearing at the corner of her lush mouth. She was ready.

Hello! I am a very slim guy and a competitive athlete but I recently decided to gain some weight. I have a series problem. My appetite is too small. My stomach is tiny. I eat so few and because my busy lifestyle I don't gain. How I will make my appetite bigger?

"Former model Liza Golden-Bhojwan illustrated just how much her body changed after she stopped "fighting" it to fit the industry's ideals, and shared how much happier she is now." Basically she was a former model but then gained a significant amount of weight during 2017. She's lost a little bit now but is still a lot heavier and curvier then she used to be. Probably her most famous photo. 2017 on the right.

Hi friends! Welcome to my page -it's finally time for me to create a thread to have a central place for me to post and show off. I am very new to this community but excited to explore and have a go-to place to connect with you all. 🌟 I am not NEW to gaining; I have been a curvy goddess my WHOLE life, and now I am finally embracing it and showing off. I feel like I will fit right in here, and I am already blown away by the support I have received. I love talking and connecting, so feel free to DM me any time, as I love connecting with fans and followers. I am a curvage model, an exciting new endeavour, and I am excited to see where it takes me. I appreciate your support, checking out my page, and following along on my journey with me. Allow me to introduce myself: I'm a bubbly blonde who desires to live life to the fullest. I wholeheartedly embrace the joy of socializing, revel in the excitement of dating, embark on adventures through travel, and relish the art of self-expression. I am Unapologetically authentic, and I find delight in showcasing my vibrant personality and making no apologies for simply being me. So, Join me on this rollercoaster ride, and let's have some fun.💖

Sorry project pat, I gotta feed me first. Anyways hello there, I am a nonbinary transfemme feedee whose been at the tipping point of being clinically obese for wayyyy too long, so I'm going to lean into this thing and go as I lose recognition of myself in the process cuz lol, heres a pic of me i posted elsewhere but i should have more as this is a pretty old full belly pic

Inspired by Hansel and Gretel. Emily is betrayed by the people she loves most. But why? The story follows Emily from her 11th to her 18th birthday. Please bear in mind that Emily is a child at the beginning of the story (as were Hansel and Gretel) and this is in no way a sexual or fetish story. It should not be read as such! The pale pink curtains offered no resistance to the early morning sun which streamed through Emily's bedroom window, casting a warm, golden glow on her freckled cheeks. Today was her eleventh birthday, and she had been eagerly anticipating it for weeks. As her eyes slowly fluttered open, her heart danced with excitement, and a wide grin of pure delight stretched across her youthful face. "Happy birthday to me!" Emily whispered to herself, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. She scrambled out of her cosy bed, her small feet landing on the plush carpet with a soft thud. The room had been transformed into a colourful wonderland, adorned with balloons and streamers, thanks to the loving efforts of her mother, Abigail, and her Aunt Miranda. The sight filled her with glee. With unruly red hair and the same striking green eyes that she shared with Miranda, Emily had always been the centre of attention. She was her mother's pride and joy, the precious princess of Abigail's world. Emily's life had been relatively sheltered, and the absence of a father had never bothered her much. Her mother and Miranda had always been there to provide love, guidance, and the occasional adventure. Bounding down the staircase, Emily found her way to the kitchen, where the sweet aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies hung in the air. Abigail was busy at the stove, flipping pancakes and humming a birthday tune. Miranda sat at the kitchen table, blowing a puff of smoke from a cigarette and grinning at Emily. "Morning Miranda. Hey, Mum!" Emily greeted them, her excitement palpable. "What's for breakfast?" "Good morning, my beautiful birthday girl," Abigail replied with a warm smile. Her voice was tender and filled with love. "Today, you get to choose your own special breakfast. What would you like?" The prospect of selecting her own food sent another wave of excitement through Emily's heart, but a flicker of hesitation danced in her eyes. She longed for cakes, her all-time favourite treat, but she was cautious about asking for them. What if her mother denied her the sweet indulgence? Abigail, strict but fair, noticed the hesitation and understood her daughter's unspoken dilemma "You can choose anything. It's your birthday, so today, I'll make an exception. What's your heart's desire?" Emily couldn't hide her delight. "I'd love some cakes please, Mum," she said with a wide smile, and then nervously bit her lip, thinking her request would be refused. Abigail's just chuckled and said, "Cakes it is then, my sweet girl. I'll bring them right over.” Emily could not hide her happiness as she knew the day had started on the sweetest note. Before she could finish her breakfast, Abigail's phone rang. The conversation was brief, and Emily didn't catch many details, but when Abigail hung up, she had the biggest grin on her face. "Emily, I have wonderful news," Abigail said with genuine enthusiasm. "Your grandmother has offered to take you and Miranda to the county fair today as part of your birthday celebration." Emily was thrilled when she heard the news. She was about to embark on an adventure filled with joy and treats; a day that would celebrate her eleven years of life surrounded by the love of her family. This was turning out to be even better than she had imagined. The county fair was the perfect place for a birthday visit, and Emily couldn't contain herself when she thought of the thrilling rides, delicious food, and games with fabulous prizes. It was a place where precious childhood memories would be formed and she couldn't wait for her grandmother to arrive. Emily chatted with her mother and Aunt Miranda as she savoured the cakes. Miranda, sitting at the kitchen table with a cigarette in her hand, didn't share Emily's enthusiasm for the fair. As a typical moody teenage girl, Miranda's attitude was more subdued. She took a drag from her cigarette and cast a sidelong glance at Emily. "Do we really have to go to the fair, Em?" Miranda sighed, her teenage cynicism apparent in her voice. "Miranda, it's my birthday," Emily replied with a hint of exasperation, "and it's going to be so much fun! Please, for me?" "Alright, alright. We'll go. But only because it's your birthday." Miranda couldn't resist her niece's pleading eyes. With that settled, Emily, still brimming with excitement, quickly finished her cakes. She wanted to make the most of this special day. As she and Miranda prepared for their outing, Emily's room came alive with their camaraderie. The air was filled with the sounds of chatter and laughter. The two girls shared a unique bond, one that transcended the typical aunt-niece relationship. They were more like sisters sharing banter, secrets, dreams and girly giggles. Miranda helped Emily pick out a pretty dress for the day, offering fashion advice and suggestions as they raided her wardrobe. They playfully debated the choice of shoes and giggled about their shared love for a particular boy band. Emily cherished her aunt as a confidante and one of her best friends. The excitement in the air was palpable as they finally stepped out into the bright summer sunshine. Margaret, Emily’s grandmother, waited by the car with a beaming smile, her eyes filled with warmth. As Emily and Miranda approached, she hugged them both tightly, showering them with affection. "Happy birthday, Emily, my dear," Margaret said, her voice as soothing as a lullaby. "Today is your day, and we're going to make it unforgettable." The fairground was only a short drive away, but the anticipation mounted with every passing minute. The sun shone brightly in the sky and Emily gazed out of the car window at the picturesque landscape whizzing by. The summer meadows were a lush green, and the vibrant wildflowers swayed in the gentle breeze. The world outside was a colourful, magical place. "Wow, it's such a beautiful day!" Emily exclaimed, her eyes twinkling with excitement. Miranda shook her head in disbelief at Emily’s enthusiasm, but she could not help smiling. Margaret who was behind the wheel, also chuckled at her granddaughter's zest for life. "It certainly is, my love," she replied, her voice filled with affection. As they travelled, Margaret shared stories about her own visits to the county fair when she was a child, further fuelling Emily's anticipation. Finally, after what felt like forever, a dazzling spectacle of vibrant colours appeared on the horizon. The Ferris wheel stood tall against the clear blue sky, its bright carriages spinning gently. Emily willed the car to go faster; she felt like they were never going to arrive, but suddenly they were there surrounded by joyous music and enticing aromas. They parked the car and made their way to the entrance. The world within the fair was filled with delight and enchantment, and it was as if they had stepped into a wondrous realm. Emily stared wide eyed at the stalls adorned with toys and sweets, and sniffed deeply, inhaling the inviting scents of cotton candy and popcorn wafting through the air. The fairground games enticed visitors with the promise of winning big, and children's laughter filled the atmosphere. Emily's heart raced as she took in all the sights and sounds. She was determined to make the most of her special day. Rides of all shapes and sizes twirled around them and Emily's eyes sparkled with wonder. This world was a treasure trove of magic and delight, and she couldn't wait to experience it all. As they walked through the fairground, games with enticing prizes beckoned from every corner, but Emily grabbed Margaret's hand and tugged her toward the carousel, her laughter ringing through the air. Miranda followed, rolling her eyes at Emily's boundless enthusiasm that the fair was a place of endless possibilities, but for a moment, they were all caught in its spell and free to enjoy the simple pleasures of life. It was a riot of colour and sound; a space where laughter and joy seemed to come alive. Margaret, Emily, and Miranda strolled through the fairground, their senses overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of the carnival. Emily's fascination with the fair was evident as she marvelled at the bright lights and whimsical rides. As the carousel whirled around, Emily couldn't have been happier, and her radiant smile and infectious laughter warmed the hearts of those around her. As soon as they stepped off the carousel, Emily's eyes turned to the array of snacks and junk food stalls nearby. The sugary aroma of candyfloss and the savoury scent of fried treats seemed to call to her, and the temptation was difficult to resist. "Can I get some candyfloss, Grandma?" Emily asked, her green eyes shining with eagerness. Margaret, always attentive to her granddaughter's wishes, nodded with a smile. "Of course, dear. It's your special day. Have as much as you like." With a joyful skip in her step, Emily bounded over to the stall, and the vendor quickly spun a vibrant cloud of sweet, pink confection onto a stick. As the family continued to explore the fair, Margaret's watchful eyes had already picked up on something: Emily's fascination with the tempting array of snacks. Margaret watched closely, noting her granddaughter's attraction to the junk food and the treats that promised instant gratification. Funnel cakes, with their powdered sugar topping, were impossible to resist, and Emily devoured one with glee. Margaret, unable to deny her precious granddaughter anything on her special day, looked on with fondness. The fair was a place where indulgence was the norm, but for Margaret, it was also an opportunity for something bigger. She began to make plans even though they remained concealed for now. The rides, each more exhilarating than the last, captivated Emily's adventurous spirit. She gleefully soared through the sky on the Ferris wheel, her laughter carrying in the wind. The thrilling roller coaster had her clinging to Margaret's hand while shrieking with delight. Meanwhile, Miranda looked around, her mood still somewhat subdued despite the festive atmosphere. She couldn't help but notice the disapproving glance her mother shot her way every time she lit a cigarette. Miranda's eyes followed the rising plumes of exhaled smoke as her thoughts seemed to drift. She had moved out of Margaret's home at a young age, seeking refuge from a physically abusive stepfather. The reasons behind this traumatic period of her life remained unclear to Miranda, and a source of resentment and confusion. She didn't understand why her mother had allowed it, and smoking was, in part, an act of rebellion against Margaret's authority. Margaret had voiced her concerns repeatedly about Miranda's habit, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears; the more she complained, the more stubbornly Miranda clung to her cigarettes. Their strained relationship, riddled with unspoken grievances, cast the only shadow over the otherwise perfect day, and fortunately, Emily did not pick up on the tension between them. As the fair's enchanting lights began to twinkle in the evening, Emily's wide-eyed wonder remained undiminished. She ran from one attraction to the next, oblivious to the darkness that lurked beneath her innocent perception of the perfect family. This was a day of delights, a moment of joy that Emily cherished as she revelled in her family's love. The sun slowly dipped below the horizon and the fairground transformed into a dazzling wonderland of vibrant lights. It was a breath-taking sight that cast a magical glow over everything. The Ferris wheel became a radiant spectacle, the carousel a whirl of brilliant colours, and the food stalls glowed like beacons, tempting visitors with their mouth-watering offerings. Emily's eyes sparkled with a new kind of wonder as the fair's lights danced around her. Her day had been nothing short of perfect, filled with laughter, thrilling rides, and sweet treats. As they returned home, her exhaustion and contentment mingled into a sense of utter bliss. Once home, the family gathered around the dinner table. While Margaret, Emily and Miranda were at the fair, Abigail had been busy and a special birthday supper. The meal was Emily’s favourite dish: pasta with home-made tomato sauce generously covered with sprinkles of parmesan, and served with a side of garlic bread. The table was adorned with candles and decorations creating a festive atmosphere. Emily talked about her day and the family shared stories and laughter. The warmth of their love filled the room, reaching a peak when the birthday cake made a grand entrance. As the night wore on, Emily's yawns became more frequent, signalling her readiness for bed. "I think it's time for the birthday girl to get some rest. We'll finish clearing up here,” suggested Margaret, noticing her granddaughter's drooping eyelids. Emily nodded with a sleepy smile, feeling the weight of the day's excitement finally settling in. She gave her family goodnight hugs and kisses, then slowly climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Once Emily was tucked in and the house had settled into a quiet calm, Margaret knew it was time. There were secrets that had been concealed for far too long and a plan that would alter the course of all their lives had to be set in motion. She made a cup of tea and sat patiently in the dim, softly lit living room, waiting for the family to gather. Her mood was heavy with unspoken tensions and her face was set in a cold expression of determination. Margaret knew she needed to be persuasive, using the family's insecurities and fears to convince Abigail and Miranda that her plan was the only way forward. The stage was set for the unveiling of hidden intentions and the revival of a strategy that had remained in the shadows for many years, dormant, but never fully forgotten. When they joined her, sitting on the couch across the room, the silence was thick, and Miranda in particular felt the weight of the past pressing down upon her. Margaret began with a tone of quiet authority, her soothing voice masking her underlying determination. "We need to talk. It's time we addressed things that been left unsaid for far too long." She turned her gaze first to Abigail, her oldest daughter, and then to Miranda, who was much younger and had left her home at an early age, moving in with her sister. Margaret seemed to be studying them, looking for some weakness. When she spoke again, her voice was calm but persuasive; she sounded confident, whit the air of someone who had given every word great deal of thought. "Abigail," Margaret began, "you and I both know Emily's love for cakes and treats. It's time we use that to our advantage." Abigail frowned, her eyes filled with a mix of trepidation and curiosity. She did not like the sound of this remark, but listened intently as her mother continued. "Your modelling career was a dream you were forced to abandon when you became pregnant with Emily, and I know you've been living with that resentment ever since. This is your opportunity to seek revenge on the daughter who, unwittingly, ended your glamorous career." Margaret knew the bitterness that had simmered in her daughter for years needed an outlet, but would Abigail sacrifice her own daughter's happiness as revenge for these lost dreams? Margaret's tone grew darker and more manipulative. "We need to make Emily gain weight, but we will do it slowly, and she won't even realise it. You, you'll have a role in this, guiding her to indulge in the treats she loves so much." Abigail sighed. Emily was her Princess! Could she and should she punish her this way? Margaret, noticing her hesitation added with calculated persuasion, "This is your chance to get a taste of the power you could hold in the future, and you will get the opportunity to make Emily understand the price you paid for her existence. But you know how she craves those sweets and you'll be the one providing them. You are just giving your daughter exactly what she wants." Abigail looked down, her thoughts churning wildly, but the idea of controlling Emily's indulgence did give her a sense of satisfaction, however twisted. Margaret then turned to Miranda, knowing she needed both of her daughters to agree for the plan to work. "Miranda, your 18th birthday is approaching, and it's your chance to prove that you're a worthy part of this family." Miranda had been distant and rebellious for years, harbouring her own lack of self-esteem; her step-father had a lot to answer for. Margaret knew that Miranda couldn't help but wonder if her younger, more obedient niece would outshine her. "Emily shares her looks with you, but we both know she has that love of life that adds to her attractiveness. It is obvious that as she gets older, she will be considered the beautiful one!" Margaret continued casually. "However, if you, my dear, can help her gain weight, then you can protect your own attractiveness from being overshadowed." Miranda, whose heart was filled with bitterness towards Margaret, saw an opportunity to impress the mother she thought did not care for her, perhaps gaining back some form of acceptance. Margaret, sensing an advantage, leaned in and whispered, "You don't want Emily to outshine you, do you? If she gains a bit of weight, you won’t have to worry about that. You will be the star and the family will dote on you instead of her." Miranda's eyes glittered with a dark desire for affirmation and attention; the attention she always craved and felt was lacking. "What's in it for me though?" Miranda asked with a hint of greed in her voice while trying to hide insecurity in her eyes. "Well, there will be other rewards, for your cooperation too. There's a little something I have in mind for your upcoming birthday," Margaret added with a smile. “Eighteen is very special!” Miranda couldn't suppress her grin, and her excitement was palpable as Margaret continued to lay out the devious plan. “We'll begin by tempting her with those cakes she loves so much, but we must do it in moderation," Margaret whispered, her voice dripping with intrigue. "As her loving family, we will be ensuring that she's well-fed, but we'll do it in a way that doesn't raise suspicion. We must be slow and careful to keep it a gradual process. That way she won't even notice. Plus, Emily will adore all the extra treats. You'll see.” With the promise of reward and the appeal to their darker desires, Margaret was steadily winning over her daughters, forming a sinister alliance that would forever alter Emily's life. The darkness in the room thickened as their agreement sealed Emily's fate; their plan hidden beneath the veneer of a close-knit family. As Margaret drove home, her face bore a calculated smile; the only emotion showing which betrayed the excitement of her secret agenda. She had laid the foundation for her vision, determined to shape Emily into what she believed was necessary. The thrill of control coursed through her veins, overpowering any fleeting guilt. She had baited a hook and reeled in both Abigail and Miranda, making them her willing accomplices in this ominous plot. Later Abigail could not sleep. She laid in her bed wrestling with a guilt that threatened to consume her. She had moments of hesitation, recalling how innocent and full of life Emily was; how a simple trip to the fair could bring her such joy. Yet this same girl had unwittingly crushed Abigail’s dreams of a glamorous career with the responsibilities of motherhood. The bitterness once more surged to the forefront of her mind, offering just enough justification to quell the guilt she felt when considering what they were about to do to her daughter. Miranda, on the other hand, contemplated only her own future and her looming 18th birthday. She harboured a sense of dark satisfaction, believing she was securing her position as the centre of attention in the family and that fuelled her ambition. Miranda's desire to be the favourite overpowered any guilt, convincing her that the reward was worth the act, and she persuaded herself that the potential rewards far outweighed any moral misgivings. Each woman clung to their individual reasons, fears and desires, using them as shields to justify the treacherous path they had embarked upon, paving the way for Emily's life to take a disconcerting and dark turn. * * * Emily greeted the next morning with the same enthusiasm that had fuelled her special day. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, and she hurriedly got dressed, ready to see her mother and Aunt Miranda. As it was a Sunday, offering the family an opportunity to spend time together again, Abigail suggested that they have a second birthday celebration for Emily and she had already called for Margaret to join them. There was a subtle change in their attitudes toward Emily; it was hardly noticeable, but it was there. Although she couldn't quite place it, Emily assumed it was a hint that she was growing up, Breakfast was a lively affair, filled with a variety of delicious foods that only enhanced Emily's excitement. The table was laden with treats, from pancakes with maple syrup to bacon, eggs, and muffins. The conversation flowed and Emily asked about plans for the day while Abigail and Miranda served her with heightened enthusiasm; they encouraged her to eat more than usual, playfully urging her to indulge in second helpings laying the groundwork for the days ahead. While Emily polished off her second plate of food, a feeling of fullness settled in her stomach. It was subtle but enough to keep her satisfied, and the anticipation of the day's activities beckoned her forward. Abigail, Margaret, and Miranda dedicated the entire day to Emily, exploring the park and zoo together and enjoying quality time as a family. Laughter filled the air as they explored the various exhibits, attended animal shows, and shared conversations. They basked in the simple joys of being together, cherishing the bonds that held them close. As the day came to an end, they returned home and Abigail took charge of preparing a special supper. The dinner table was set with a delectable assortment of dishes; a feast meticulously designed to delight Emily's senses. There were plates of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, a rich and cheesy macaroni casserole, and an array of fresh vegetables. The family's plan was in motion and each member played their roles to perfection. Margaret, smiling at the sight of the delicious spread, gave her nod of silent approval. Abigail, with subtle finesse, persuaded Emily to indulge without making it obvious, by filling her plate with a little extra of everything and as Emily happily savoured the feast, the family skilfully concealed their true intentions. After the sumptuous supper, Emily was sent to bed, her belly full and feeling content. Oblivious to the secret discussions taking place after she retired for the night, she fell asleep with a smile on her face, happy and satisfied. It was a quiet but significant victory for Margaret, Abigail, and Miranda as their strategy to feed Emily's extra treats began to unfold. After they were sure Emily had drifted off to sleep, the living room became a chamber of contemplation for the family, each one focused on their own thoughts, expectations, and justifications. Abigail grappled with a mix of guilt and unease about the plan, but she knew this was the best way to take control of the future. Miranda rationalised that giving Emily extra food and treats was not the same as forcing her to eat them. If her niece could not control herself, then she had to accept the consequences of her overindulgence. Margaret simply revelled in a triumphant sense of victory However, Emily was an active girl, and it was during their family meeting that Abigail shared her concerns about this seemingly endless vigour. “I can’t help but worry that Emily's boundless energy and enthusiasm present us with a challenge. She is full of life and spent all day running around excitedly. I know this is natural for a girl her age, but I do worry that if we give her extra treats, she will just have extra energy. We need to slow her down somehow.” “You're right, Abigail,” replied Margaret thoughtfully. “It's essential to strike a balance between giving her treats and ensuring she doesn't become overly active. We should consider more substantial meals so she feels more lethargic and then perhaps reduce her physical activities. We wouldn't want her to burn off everything we're trying to help her gain!” Miranda nodded, desperate to make a contribution. “Maybe we could introduce board games or art projects. Keep her engaged in things that won't get her moving too much?” Abigail agreed. “That sounds good. We probably need to create a schedule to keep her involved in this.” Margaret smiled. She hardly had to try to keep her daughters engaged in the plan. This was going to be easier than she thought! “It's a sensible idea,” she said. “We can take turns with the activities to ensure she doesn't get suspicious. This is for the whole family, after all!” “The good thing about these activities,” said Abigail slowly, fuelled by her growing commitment to the scheme and speaking the ideas out loud as they came to her, “is that we can keep her filled up with treats. As she sits there distracted, we could just leave a plate of cakes or biscuits beside her and let her eat whatever she wants. We could also have a family film night every Friday?” Margaret grinned at how invested Emily’s mother was becoming. “I like your idea, Abigail. It's a clever way to make sure she gets more treats. We'll have to ensure she gets accustomed to these little indulgences, and she won't even realize she's slowing down her activities. Our plan is coming together nicely!” * * * The next morning, sunlight streamed into Emily's bedroom, waking her once again. The beginning of a new week brought excitement and her heart danced with the joy as she thought of the delightful weekend. Little did she know how much her family's subtle intentions were poised to weave seamlessly into her perfect life. She slipped out of her cosy bed and bounded down the stairs, practically tasting the anticipation in the air. The aroma of a delicious breakfast wafted through the house and she was eager to see what her mother and Aunt Miranda had prepared for her. The table was a picturesque display of dishes, including her favourites, which Abigail and Miranda served with extra care. They understood that it was crucial to maintain their plan, even on school days. In addition to the usual breakfast items, they had placed extra tempting treats that Emily adored: freshly baked pastries, sweet jams, and an assortment of delicious cereals. The family again ensured that Emily's breakfast was more indulgent and satisfying than ever before. Abigail and Miranda, each playing their part in the on-going plan, encouraged Emily to savour the morning feast emphasising how important it was to start the day with a hearty meal. They made sure to fill Emily's plate with more than her usual portions. Emily relished each bite, feeling loved and cherished by her family, yet blissfully unaware of their ulterior motives. Abigail and Miranda used the opportunity to express their affection and support, reminding Emily of how special she was to them. Once her belly was full, Emily donned her school uniform and packed her bag without a second thought of how much she had eaten; it was a school day, and she was looking forward to seeing her friends. She had stepped into the routine of a slightly altered daily life, unaware that it would become integral to her future. Emily was in the lowest year of secondary school, and her days were a tapestry of lessons, laughter, and shared secrets with her peers. Miranda was in the final year and would be leaving soon, but at the minute, the walk to school was a daily ritual that the two cherished, and it was during these moments that their closeness became even more apparent. It was a brisk morning, and they shared the footpath with other students heading to their own schools. They strolled, side-by side, their footsteps in sync, while Emily chatted excitedly about school, her friends, and her dreams for the future. Miranda took this opportunity to indulge in her smoking habit, a rebellious act that she knew her mother disapproved of. As they sauntered along the path, Miranda lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. Emily glanced at her aunt, a curious expression on her face. She had always been intrigued by the act of smoking, a habit that seemed so grown-up and mysterious. Miranda noticed Emily's inquisitive gaze and exhaled a puff of smoke. Emily hesitated before finally speaking, her voice nervously inquisitive. "Aunt Miranda, can I try it?" Miranda's eyes flicked down to her niece, and she contemplated how to respond to the request. "Emily, this isn't something for kids. It's not good for you, and it's not something I'd want you to get into." However Miranda also recognised an opportunity to redirect Emily's focus onto extra treats. "Smoking is a bad habit and not suitable for someone your age." She reached into her bag and retrieved a few chocolate bars, offering them to her niece. "How about these instead? They're much better for you." Emily nodded, accepting Miranda's response and her eyes lit up at the sight of the chocolates, despite her curiosity. She gladly accepted her aunt's alternative offer, nibbling on the sweet treat with a grin. Miranda, though a teenager with her own concerns and secrets, indulged her niece's excitement with patience and kindness. She was the confidante that Emily turned to, the one who shared secrets and offered advice on life's mysteries. The bond between them was a special one, built on years of shared laughter and support. As they walked, they spoke of anything and everything under the sun, but beneath the surface, ulterior motives swirled. Emily's day at school went by in a whirlwind of subjects mixed with the joy of friendship. She was popular and surrounded by her classmates, most of whom shared her youthful optimism. At lunchtime, she unwrapped her packed meal, a sandwich with her favourite ham and cheese, a crisp apple, and a few extra small treats: a chocolate bar and a few cookies. Abigail had taken care to include these to keep her daughter happy and content. Emily sat with her friends and discussed the latest school gossip, their favourite books, and their dreams of the future. The conversation often veered toward their crushes and the excitement of growing up. Her friends admired Emily's cheerful nature and her ability to find joy in the simplest of things. The walk home with Miranda was another cherished part of Emily's day. Their laughter and camaraderie filled the air as they strolled along the familiar path. The day was gradually transitioning from the structure of school to the freedom of home, and Emily was brimming with anticipation. Miranda would light a cigarette and occasionally glance at Emily, marvelling, and also a little envious at the innocence she seemed to exude. It was a stark contrast to her own turbulent younger years. They passed by a corner shop, and Emily's eyes sparkled with pleasure. She tugged on Miranda's sleeve, her eagerness infectious. "Can we go in, Miranda? Please, pretty please?" Miranda chuckled and playfully ruffled Emily's hair. "Of course, Em. What are we getting today?" With sense of shared mischief, they stepped into the shop, and Emily's laughter echoed in the small space. She wandered the aisles, her eyes dancing over the colourful packages and the shelves of sweets and chocolates. Miranda indulged her niece, allowing her to choose a special treat, something they could enjoy together. The young girl's enthusiasm was palpable, and the connection between them was one of the few constants in Emily's life. She clutched her chosen treat, a chocolate bar, with sheer delight, and her infectious laughter continued as they made their way back home. The evening meal was a warm and cosy affair, and Abigail had prepared a hearty dinner for her family. As they sat around the table, the delicious aromas filled the air, making everyone's mouths water. The main course was a comforting dish of creamy risotto; one of Emily's favourites. Steam rose from the cheesy rice and Abigail served generous portions to each of them. She couldn't help but notice how Emily's eyes lit up when she saw the familiar food before her. Emily eagerly dug in, savouring each bite. Abigail, knowing her daughter's love for the recipe, encouraged her to have more. "Emily, you're growing up so fast, and a growing girl needs her strength. Would you like some more?" Emily's eyes shone with delight, and she nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, please, Mum!" Abigail served her another generous helping of the rice, making sure to heap extra cheese on top. As Emily enjoyed her second serving, Miranda chimed in, adding to the encouragement. "You know, Em, you'll need all that energy for school and for your adventures with Aunt Miranda." Emily smiled, appreciating the support from her family, and eagerly continued eating. Dinner concluded with a delectable dessert, a rich chocolate pudding with a dollop of whipped cream. Abigail served everyone a portion, but she couldn't resist tempting her daughter with a little more. "Emily, you've been such a good girl recently. How about seconds?" This time, Emily hesitated, feeling a little full after the large amount she had already eaten, but she didn't want to disappoint her mother. "Okay, Mum, but just a little." Abigail nodded, but served a portion that was larger than then first, her face beaming with pride at her daughter's compliance as she ate it all. After dinner, they planned to keep Emily occupied without letting her burn off too many calories, although after the large, heavy meal, it was clear that she did not want to move much. So they gathered around the table and played Scrabble, which kept Emily's mind engaged and allowed her to enjoy some quality time with her family. As planned, there were plenty of biscuits and sweets on the table, just close enough to Emily for her to keep grazing without thought as they played. Emily’s life continued in this way. The family introduced her to new board games that kept her occupied for hours and, as planned, Friday film nights became a tradition. Emily was encouraged to indulge in her favourite treats during the evenings and she revelled in the added attention and fun. Slowly, the extra treats began to pile up and Emily's fondness for these new routines grew. Little by little, without her even realizing it, the subtle manipulation of her life became more ingrained. * * * Miranda's eighteenth birthday was looming, and her excitement was growing, hanging in the air with unspoken anticipation. She had been promised a special present; a reward for her assistance in feeding Emily. The nature of this gift remained shrouded in mystery, but Margaret had made it clear that Miranda would be well compensated for her unwavering compliance. On the evening of Miranda’s birthday, Margaret took her into her study and locked the door, ensuring they would not be disturbed. Less than twenty minutes later, Miranda emerged from the room visibly distressed. Tears welled in her eyes, and her hands trembled as she tried to light a cigarette to calm her nerves. Standing outside, struggling with the lighter, she found herself under the scrutiny of Abigail, quietly watching from a distance. Once she realised that Miranda had noticed her, Abigail approached her sister, her face etched with concern. "Miranda, are you alright?" Abigail asked in a hushed tone. Miranda took a deep drag from her cigarette and sighed, her voice quivering. "I'm just... it's been a lot to take in, that's all." Abigail's gaze was penetrating as she inquired, "What did mother say to you?" Miranda felt as though Abigail was looking straight into her soul, but she hesitated, unsure of how much she could or should reveal of the conversation. Margaret had told her to keep it private, but surely it would be acceptable to discuss it with her sister? However, the overwhelming emotions got the better of her, and she decided to disclose a part of the truth. "She... she talked about a mark and The Cult,” muttered Miranda, whispering for fear she would be overheard. Abigail nodded, her expression grim. "I see. The mark... Yes.” She gently ran her fingers through Miranda’s red hair. “It's a significant part of the rituals." Miranda looked at her, bewildered that her sister already understood the situation. "You know about it? What does it mean? Why haven't you ever told me about this?" Miranda demanded answers, her tone a mix of confusion and accusation. Abigail's reply was low and ominous. "There's so much I haven't told you, Miranda. The mark is The Cult’s way of recognising those they believe are destined for their... ceremonies. But there was no need to burden either you or Emily with too much knowledge of their existence." The mention of ceremonies sent a shiver down Miranda's spine. Abigail's revelation had opened a Pandora's Box of unsettling questions in her mind, and she realised there was a labyrinth of dark secrets within her family. She wasn't sure she was ready to confront this reality and she was growing increasingly horrified as the implications sank in. "I couldn’t really keep up with everything mum said,” whispered Miranda. “Does she mean that if Emily doesn't continue to gain weight, they... they'll take me instead?" Abigail nodded solemnly. "Yes, Miranda. It's Emily or you." Tears streamed down Miranda's face as the magnitude of the situation descended on her. The cruel and horrifying choice she faced was utterly terrifying, but Margaret had made it clear that there was no room for negotiation. Miranda could betray her niece and in return would be compensated for her compliance. The promised reward: an easy life at home, complete with an abundance of cigarettes. No need to get a job, no need to study further. She would be provided for her entire life and be able to live with total freedom if she completed this task. The alternative would be her own sacrifice to the Cult, and Margaret made it clear that this would not necessarily save Emily; just delay the inevitable. There was only one decision Miranda could make. As time passed within Emily's structured routine there was a subtle shift in the fabric of her existence. The days melded seamlessly into one another, each following the script laid out by Margaret, Abigail, and despite her misgivings, Miranda. Yet, there lingered a whisper of the unnatural, a sense that something clandestine loomed just beyond the edges of her consciousness. For the remainder of the academic year, Emily continued her journey through secondary school, her youthful enthusiasm undiminished. The morning walks with Miranda persisted, filled with the routine of discussions and shared moments. Unbeknownst to Emily, however, a peculiar energy seemed to seep into their daily lives. Shadows clung to the corners of familiar spaces, and the air carried an unspoken tension, an invisible web weaving itself around their seemingly ordinary existence. The habitual cigarettes assumed a darker significance, a feeble attempt to dispel the growing unease that clawed at the edges of Miranda’s consciousness and a constant reminder of the way he had sold out her niece’s future. Affected by an ever growing fear of The Cult’s influence, Miranda began to imagine an obscure force at play. Her walks with Emily became moments of quiet contemplation, a time to cast furtive glances at the surroundings, half-expecting a shapeless threat lurking just out of sight. Her gaze flickered nervously to and fro, the suspicion of being watched tainting her thoughts. Sometimes, driven by guilt, Miranda drew Emily closer, a protective instinct emerging from the shadows of her subconscious and in the dark winter nights, passing car headlights cast transient shadows that danced along the edges of their path, feeding her growing sense of paranoia. * * * The years flowed past like a river, bringing subtle yet significant changes to Emily’s life. She blossomed from an energetic eleven year old into a vibrant and inquisitive teenager, navigating the challenges and adventures of secondary school. Her world expanded with newfound friendships and opportunities. Miranda, now twenty, had seemingly settled into her lifestyle as Abigail’s aide, barely leaving the house for fear of The Cult. Her relationship with her family continued to be complicated, marked by shadows cast by the underlying tensions and unspoken truths that she dreaded. Cigarettes had become her frequent companion, filling the idle hours while she stayed home and assisted with household chores, particularly cooking and baking. Abigail maintained her role as the primary home-maker, leveraging it to her advantage. Through meticulous observation, she noted Emily's preferences, working out her favourite recipes and discerning which desserts would elicit the most indulgence. Together with Miranda, Abigail perfected a rotating menu of cakes and sweets, testing each recipe and every new creation on Emily to gauge her reactions and refine their strategy. Margaret continued her visits to monitor Emily’s progress, always bringing with her a supply of treats, snacks, and confections. Her persuasive influence over Abigail and Miranda remained firm, as they continued to gently steer Emily down their chosen path. Over these years, the family's calculated plan had taken root and began to yield results, subtly transforming Emily into a soft, gently curved teenager. The changes unfolded almost imperceptibly, as Emily’s innocence and naivety allowed her to remain blissfully unaware of the family's true intentions. The sweets and snacks that filled the pantry and the loving encouragement from her family shaped her into the unwitting subject of their strategy. For Emily, the transformation was gradual; the larger portions, cakes and extra treats slowly settling onto her figure and reshaping her body and appearance. It was a transformation driven by her family, masked by a guise of affection and care and Emily’s trust in those she loved blinded her to the more intricate, underlying changes to her body. Yet they became increasingly evident to those around her a Emily began to take on a plumpness that was hard to ignore and some of her peers began to react differently to her changing physique. While most remained true friends, others, driven by the shallowness that often defines adolescence, made casual jokes and indulged in unkind comments. It was a gradual shift, barely noticeable at first, but with time, the changes to the dynamic of her friendship group became more apparent. Margaret's plan was progressing and Emily's curves had become more pronounced: her cheeks were rosy and full and the softness of her belly and the slight jiggle in her thighs and buttocks became hard to conceal. Abigail's cakes and desserts were a never-ending temptation, and Emily couldn't resist indulging in these delightful creations given behind a façade of care and love. Emily awoke on her fourteenth birthday, her eyes brimming with excitement, just as they had three years before. She was growing up, her innocence making way for the budding maturity of a teenager, but her enthusiasm remained unbroken. As the covers fell away, she couldn't ignore the changes in her body. The once lean and sprightly girl had certainly transformed, developing curves that were hard to ignore. . The additional weight was unmistakable and a softness had definitely taken hold of her once slender physique, yet Emily didn't seem to mind; she embraced her changing form with her usual untroubled spirit, accepting it as an inevitable part of growing up. The family had meticulously planned this special day and the detailed preparations started as soon as Emily came downstairs. Abigail, Margaret, and Miranda were all ready to give Emily a birthday treat like no other. Breakfast was an indulgent affair, with a spread of fried bacon, syrup-drenched pancakes and creamy scrambled eggs. Miranda arranged a basket of freshly baked croissants, As Emily entered the kitchen, her eyes widened at the sight. "Wow, this looks amazing!" "Happy birthday, sweetheart," Abigail said, her voice filled with affection. "Dig in, Emily. It's your special day." The atmosphere was joyous, and they discussed plans for the day, with Emily radiating excitement as she savoured each delectable bite. All of the family gave Emily words of encouragement as they pushed more food her way, but Miranda was particularly attentive to Emily's breakfast, urging her to eat more. "Don't forget the croissants; they're your favourite. Oh, and have another pancake; they're fantastic and it is your day, after all. Your Aunt Miranda insists!" she said with a smile, but the birthday girl didn't need much persuasion to indulge further. Emily felt the warmth of their love enveloping her as she indulged in the feast and her plate was soon cleared. The family intended to ensure that Emily enjoyed her day to the fullest, and in the early afternoon, the surprises began. A special birthday lunch awaited at a restaurant; a lavish feast designed to spoil her with generous portions of delectable dishes and Emily beamed with delight, loving the attention. "You've got to try some of these desserts, Emily," Margaret encouraged, pushing the menu toward her. "It is your day, after all." After their meal, they headed to the cinema. The objective wasn't just to enjoy the latest blockbuster, but to use the movie as a means to keep Emily sitting for an extended period after her large meal. It was also a way to keep her unconsciously consuming popcorn, soda, and a wide array of snacks. The plan was subtle but effective, and it unfolded seamlessly with Emily blissfully unaware of the careful orchestration. The sun began to set, casting long shadows that stretched across the pavement as they walked back home. The festivities carried on and Emily's excitement and naivety were a stark contrast to the shadows that loomed behind her birthday celebration. In a brief exchange, Margaret discretely handed Miranda a pack of cigarettes, the promised reward for her assistance and ensuring her further cooperation. The act was inconspicuous, but it was a tangible reminder of the role Miranda played in the family's scheme which insidiously wove the belief into Emily’s consciousness that food equalled love. * * * The days after Emily's fourteenth birthday unfolded with the rhythm of routine, concealing the sinister undercurrents that swirled beneath her seemingly ordinary life. Her enthusiasm was undeterred by the passage of time, and only increased as the beginning of another school year heralded a new week filled with the promise of friends, gossip, and the simple joys of teenage life . Emily made her way to the kitchen for breakfast. Her heart was light and her thoughts were filled with the adventures that awaited her at school. She couldn't wait to see her friends, share stories, and giggle between lessons. The close-knit bond she shared with her peers was one of the treasures of her young life and this all added to her anticipation of the day ahead. The aroma of a hearty breakfast filled the kitchen, and Abigail and Miranda had prepared a spread that matched Emily's zest for life. Pancakes swimming in butter and syrup adorned the table, tempting her with their sugary allure. Emily's eyes sparkled with delight as she saw them. "This looks so good, mum!" she exclaimed. "Good morning, sweetheart," Abigail said with a smile, her tone enveloping Emily with motherly love. “You need a good breakfast before your classes." As they discussed the upcoming lessons, Abigail was attentive, encouraging Emily to indulge in her breakfast. The first day back at school was filled with excitement for Emily. She couldn't wait to reunite with her friends and immerse herself in the familiar routine of classes, chatter, and shared secrets. These days were the highlight of her life. As Emily entered the school gates, she was greeted by the familiar face of Sarah, who had been her best friend for as long as she could remember. Emily waved to Sarah, her bright smile infectious and her heart swelled with affection for her friend as she approached. "Emily! You won't believe what happened this summer," Sarah exclaimed, a hint of mischief in her eyes. They shared stories of their holiday escapades and the latest gossip, their laughter ringing out. Their close-knit group of friends soon gathered, and the morning was filled with the carefree camaraderie that had always been a part of Emily's life. They chatted during breaks and shared inside jokes during classes, making the lessons bearable. However, it was in the afternoon that the tone shifted. Emily had always been known for her enthusiasm and her innocence and her friends had once found her zest for life endearing, but as she sat down for lunch, she couldn't help but notice a subtle change in their demeanour. The sidelong glances and hushed conversation turned into open comments and while some of her friends remained true to their bonds, others began to react differently to Emily's changing body and her newfound curves. Samantha, who was the self-appointed queen bee of their clique, seemed distant. The group's laughter was quieter, and Emily's stories, filled with her characteristic excitement, no longer drew the same reaction. It was during a free period in the courtyard that Emily's world came crashing down. Samantha and her friends pulled her aside, their expressions far from friendly. "Emily," Samantha began, her voice laced with a cruel edge. "We need to talk about something. You've changed, and not in a good way!" Emily's heart sank, sensing the ominous tone in her friend's voice. She listened, confused and apprehensive as the conversation continued and the remarks took a mean-spirited turn. A cruel smile curled on Samantha's lips as she couldn't resist delivering a hurtful comment. "I see you have been really celebrating your birthday, and you are still indulging!” Samantha continued, "You've gotten so... fat." He poked Emily’s soft belly for added emphasis. One of the other girls joined in, laughing and echoing Samantha's remarks. "Yeah, you look like you've been enjoying those cakes a bit too much!" The words hung in the air, and Emily was struck dumb with shock. Samantha and her friends burst into laughter, but it was far from the light-hearted giggles they had once shared. This was mockery, and the realisation that her closest friends were making fun of her body crushed her. Around them, other students watched the spectacle unfold. Some of Emily's friends hesitated but eventually kept their distance. A few of them, no longer charmed by her innocence, even joined in the laughter, yearning for Samantha’s acceptance in the popular group. As the girls continued their tirade, Emily's cheerfulness waned and her once unshakable self-confidence cracked. She felt tears prick her eyes but blinked them back. The comments stuck, and a harsh self-consciousness crept into her mind. The family's constant indulgence and the growing softness of her body suddenly felt like burdens. With her heart heavy, Emily excused herself and made her way to the school bathroom. She was desperate to escape the scrutinizing gazes of her peers and the cruel laughter ringing in her ears as she walked away left her feeling isolated and hurt. In front of the mirror, she touched her fuller cheeks and looked at her once-flat stomach, now obviously rounded and curved. Studying her tearful reflection, Emily was forced to question her own physique. She felt a tormenting doubt that had never haunted her before as Samantha's words echoed in her mind. Her body, which she had embraced with such acceptance, was now the target of ridicule and the innocence she had clung to shattered. Their mockery was like a knife to her heart. Emily walked home slowly unable to stop replaying the hurtful conversation in her mind. The words from Samantha and her friends had struck deep, carving a chasm in her self-esteem and a storm of emotions raged within her. She felt an overwhelming sense of humiliation, anger and sadness. Her confidence, once unwavering, now teetered on the brink of collapse. Emily's heart was broken, not so much by the cruel remarks; more by the loss of friends she once cherished. She contemplated discussing the incident with her family, but her loyalty to her friends held her back. For the time being, she decided to keep her feelings to herself, believing she could handle the situation on her own. Emily was determined to prove her friends wrong and to regain their acceptance, and to transform the hurtful comments into motivation for self-improvement. Her spirit, though shaken, was far from broken. The next morning was no different from her usual routine. She jumped out of bed, excited to choose her outfit for the day. Emily had always been a cheerful and friendly girl who embraced life with enthusiasm and innocence that endeared her to those who knew her best. However, now Samantha had a victim in her sights, Emily’s exuberance was being increasingly portrayed as annoying, and her once-cherished joy for life was no longer seen as charming. "Well, well, Emily, That birthday of yours must be lasting forever! A few extra cakes last night, perhaps?" Samantha started making snide comment before the first bell. Others in the group chimed in, their laughter as icy as their words. "Seems like your cake hasn't run out, huh? I guess you'll keep getting those extra portions." "Yeah, you look like you've been having a cake party every day." At lunch, there was no escape. As Emily unpacked her sandwiches Samantha appeared. "Hey, Emily," she sneered, her piercing gaze focused on Emily's softening features. "I see you're still growing – horizontally, that is." The other girls in the group chuckled, and Emily's friends looked uncomfortable, their loyalty wavering under Samantha's influence. Emily's heart sank as she felt the prickle of humiliation creeping up her neck. Sarah finally mustered the courage to defend Emily. "Come on, Samantha, that's not cool. Emily's still the same person. She’s just enjoying life." Samantha's eyes narrowed, and she turned her wrath on Sarah. "Oh! Don't tell me you're turning into a chubby-chaser!" The group laughed and Samantha put just enough volume into the word "chubby-chaser" so it echoed through the courtyard. Emily felt a hot blush rise to her cheeks and Sarah's face flushed, but she didn't back down, refusing to let Samantha's cruelty go unchecked. "Samantha, you're being horrible for no reason. I won't be a part of this." Samantha's scornful laughter rang out as she ridiculed Emily, Sarah, and anyone who dared to show kindness. "Well, well, looks like you've got yourself a defender, Emily. I bet Sarah wants to join the chub club!" The other girls joined in Samantha's laughter, leaving Emily feeling isolated and devastated. Sarah's attempt to support her only seemed to make matters worse. Emily's enthusiasm and innocence had become the target of relentless bullying, a stark contrast to her previously joyous interactions with her friends. The school day dragged, marred by Emily's dampened spirit and the ridicule she endured. The laughter of her friends, now tainted by cruelty, rang in her ears as she sat alone in the break, questioning her body and her place in a world that was becoming increasingly unkind. After this particularly distressing day at school, Emily sought the solace of home. Samantha's ruthless comments and the laughter of those she once considered friends left her feeling defeated and despondent. Emily decided to confide in her Aunt Miranda; she needed someone to talk to who wouldn't judge her. As she entered the living room, she found Miranda sitting there, a haze of cigarette smoke surrounding her. Miranda glanced at Emily and noticed her downtrodden expression. "Rough day at school, Em?" she asked. Tears welled up in Emily's eyes, and she sank into an armchair, her vulnerability now apparent. "Miranda, can we talk?" Her voice quivered with a mix of apprehension and hope as she looked up at her aunt with a plea in her eyes. Miranda stubbed out her cigarette, sensing the gravity of the situation. "Of course!” She pushed a strand of hair behind Emily's ear, her concern evident. Emily took a deep breath and, with a shaky voice, recounted the incident at school—the mocking, the cruel comments, and the laughter. She watched Miranda's face as she spoke, hoping to find solace in her reaction. Miranda listened attentively, nodding with a sympathetic expression. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Emily," Miranda said, her voice soothing. "Bullying is never easy to deal with, and I wish I could shield you from it." Emily nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I just don't understand why they're being so mean, Miranda. They were my friends." Miranda reached out and put her arm around Emily, pulling her into a comforting embrace. "It's not your fault, darling. Sometimes, people can change, or maybe they were never true friends to begin with. You have to remember that you're a wonderful person, and their hurtful words shouldn't define you." As Emily rested her head on Miranda's shoulder, she felt a sense of warmth and security. In that moment, she felt that even in the face of adversity, she had an ally in Miranda. Emily believed her aunt was someone who understood her and would stand by her side, yet struggling with the aftermath of the hurtful incident at school permeated her days and life took a sombre turn. Emily trudged through her routines, burdened by the shadows that had descended on and smothered her once radiant aura, and the vibrant teenager who had once looked forward to school with enthusiasm was now struggling with days of relentless bullying. Emily began to question herself, her body, and her appetite wavered under the burden of the spiteful comments and laughter that still echoed in her ears. Miranda kept a watchful eye on Emily's changing demeanour and noticed the impact of the bullying on her appetite. At breakfast, the once-excited girl now stared at her plate with a mix of hesitation and insecurity. Her fork pushed around the food that once brought her so much joy, and it was clear that her enthusiasm for the morning feast had waned. "Emily, sweetheart, is everything okay? You've hardly touched your breakfast," Miranda gently probed, concern veiled beneath her reassuring tone. Emily hesitated for a moment, uncertainty etched on her face before she lowered her gaze. "I don't know, Aunt Miranda. After what happened at school, I just don't feel like eating as much,” she said quietly, barely louder than a whisper. "I understand.” Miranda nodded, hiding her concern and maintaining a reassuring tone. “I know it's been tough, but you can't let bullies have that power over you. They don’t get to dictate your choices and your lifestyle! You need to take care of yourself." Emily nodded in agreement, but it seemed that this was just for Miranda’s benefit as her appetite remained subdued. The joy she had once found in the family's delicious treats was fading, and she ate with a sense of obligation, not the enthusiasm that was so crucial to their plan. Miranda watched with increasing distress as the bullying chipped away at Emily's self-esteem and appetite. Although the family continued to serve tempting dishes and offer additional treats, it became evident that the foundation of their meticulously planned scheme was crumbling. Emily's innocence and exuberance, once valuable assets, were now eroding more and more with each snide comment and poorly hidden snigger. Miranda realised that they needed to find a way to help Emily regain her self-confidence and restore her enthusiasm for life, recognising that it was not just for Emily’s well-being but for the success of the family’s scheme, and by extension Miranda’s own safety. Haunted by the unsettling knowledge that she might become The Cult's chosen victim if Emily didn't measure up, Miranda often found herself crying silently through sleepless nights, her tears silently absorbed by the embrace of her pillow. One night, after another day of particularly horrendous bullying at school, Emily cracked. Miranda found her sobbing in her room and rushed to console her with a hug. “What’s wrong, Em?” she whispered. "I'm… I'm not feeling good about how I look,” wept Emily, her voice quivering with emotion. “The girls at school are so cruel about my weight. It never ends and… and it hurts." She wiped away her tears, but more came to replace them. Miranda's face softened as she listened to Emily's pain, touched by her fragile vulnerability. "I'm so sorry you have to go through that, sweetie. You don't deserve any of this." "I want to change, Miranda.” Emily continued her voice barely above a whisper. “I want to lose weight and go back to how I was before; I don't want to give them a reason to hurt me like this." Miranda's heart sank at Emily’s distress and she held her niece tighter as if trying to shelter her from the evils of the world. Yet despite her sympathy for Emily, Miranda knew that her own future relied on her niece gaining weight, and she remained mindful of the family’s overall plan. "Emily, I want you to know that you're perfect just the way you are. You don't need to change for anyone, but I understand if you want to be healthier. If you choose to lose weight, you know I will support you and help you make better choices for diet and exercise." Once again, tears streamed down Emily's face, but this time they were tears of gratitude for her aunt's understanding. "Thank you, Miranda. I just don't want to be the target of their cruelty anymore." Miranda held Emily in her arms, providing a fleeting sense of security, a brief respite from the constant onslaught of taunts and ridicule. "You won't be, sweetheart. We'll get through this together." Once Emily had found solace, Miranda considered her niece's decision to start dieting. She was very much aware of the potential consequences and her own anxiety grew until she found herself pacing in the dimly lit living room. The soft, slow ticking of the grandfather clock and the sound of her restless footsteps echoing on the polished floorboards only added to the unease that gnawed at her. She knew that showing Emily her support was vital at this moment and while ready to provide the emotional encouragement needed, she also had to keep Emily from making what Miranda considered to be the wrong choices; meaning the choices that would affect Miranda’s own future. Hoping to resolve the dilemma, she decided to talk to Emily gently, planning to convey her concerns without discouraging her entirely. As Miranda entered Emily's room, she noticed her niece looking at diet advice on the Internet and her heart sank. "Em, we need to talk," Miranda began, choosing her words carefully and trying to sound as understanding as possible. "I want you to know that I love you and care about your well-being, but I have been thinking and I'm really worried about this diet. I don't think it's the right path for you and I think you are making a rushed decision." "I thought you supported me.” Emily looked up from the laptop, confusion in her eyes. Miranda hesitated, her thoughts racing. She had to strike a balance between empathy and guidance. "I do support you, but I have concerns about how this decision could affect you, Em. You are perfect just as you are and those girls at school don't define your worth." "I don't want to be the target of their bullying anymore, Miranda. I want the teasing to stop!" Emily sighed, frustration creeping into her exasperated tone, but her aunt persisted. “I get that, but there's a lot more at stake here than just the opinions of those girls. I need you to trust me when I say that the choices you make now do matter and they will affect your future. And I want what's best for you; I just want you to think before making up your mind." Emily felt her resolve wavering as she looked into Miranda's eyes, sensing the genuine concern. "Okay, I'll trust you, Miranda." Relief washed over Miranda, but she knew that the delicate balancing act had only just begun. She would have to continue to keep Emily's trust while guiding her away from her dieting aspirations, thereby protecting her own future, and their family's dark secrets. The following day, Emily once again went to school after eating a minimal breakfast and a distressed Miranda called for a family meeting. All morning her distress increased until finally, the afternoon sunlight cascaded through the drawn curtains, casting long shadows across the room, and Miranda watched Abigail and Margaret take their places. The air felt heavy with a charged tension that crackled beneath the surface and, nervously clutching a crumpled piece of paper with her notes, Miranda cleared her throat. "I called this meeting to discuss something important," she began, her voice steady, but her trembling hands betrayed her anxiety. "Emily wants to go on a diet because of the bullying she's been facing at school. But this affects our plans and it will interfere with our goals." Margaret raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? Explain yourself!” Her scrutinizing gaze settled on Miranda. “I mean that we need Emily to stay on the path we've set for her. If she changes her appearance too much, it could derail all of our plans," Miranda explained, a bead of sweat trickling down her temple. Margaret watched her daughter’s discomfort with a sly smirk dancing on her lips. Miranda hesitated, searching for the right words. She knew her mother was toying with her. “There could be consequences we do not want!” Miranda stammered. “Consequences you don’t want, I think you mean” said Margaret coldly. Miranda shuddered and looked at Abigail for support. "You're right, Miranda. We can't allow Emily to make choices that might ruin everything and jeopardise our goals," said Abigail with a tone of reassurance. Miranda exhaled and nodded, grateful that her sister seemed to be on her side. "Exactly!” Miranda continued, more confident now. “And we have to be cautious. Emily's bullying at school mirrors her situation at home: We're trying to change her to fit our design just as much as those girls want to change her to fit in with theirs." "So, what do you suggest?" Margaret's eyes narrowed as she saw the connection and her steely gaze seemed to bore into her daughter as though it was her fault; as though recognising this problem had somehow caused it. Miranda did not notice. She was concentrating on her notes with anxiety etched across her face. "We need to make her understand that dieting isn't the answer to her problems. We have to support her while also gently guiding her away from the idea of losing weight." "You're right, Miranda. We need to keep her trust and ensure she continues with the plan." Abigail placed a reassuring hand on her sister's shoulder. Miranda took a deep breath, relief washing over her that the family agreed to her concerns. They discussed the way forward at length to ensure that they were all on the same page, protecting their dark secrets and guiding Emily in the right direction. Meanwhile, amidst the relentless torment at school, Emily's spirit was wearing thin. Samantha's taunts and cutting words became increasingly cruel and Emily’s friends seemed to distance themselves more with every passing day. It was as though she had been thrust into a relentless whirlpool, facing victimisation and isolation on all fronts, and she could feel herself sinking as her confidence eroded bit by bit. Emily walked home from school that day with a resolve born from despair. She was determined to talk again to Miranda about dieting. Her aunt was the one person she believed could understand her plight, the only one who might offer solace in this dark time. "Aunt Miranda," Emily began, her voice wavering. "I... I've been thinking about what we discussed the other day… about wanting to go on a diet." "I'm here to listen, Emily. Please, go on." Miranda nodded, her eyes filled with sympathy. "It's just that... I can't stand the bullying at school anymore. Every day is unbearable and I feel so helpless, and I thought if I lost weight, maybe they would stop." Emily was blinking back tears as she spoke. Miranda reached out and gently held Emily's hand. "I'm so sorry you're going through this, Em, but I need you to understand that dieting isn't the solution. It's not your fault; it's those girls who are wrong. You are beautiful and altering yourself won’t change the cruelty of others; they will just look for something else to focus on." Emily's nodded, but she continued. She was not going to be dissuaded. "They are right though, Aunt Miranda. I have gained weight and I am fat! I can't help but feel that maybe if I were thinner, they would accept me again." Miranda's heart ached for her niece, but she also knew that this conversation was crucial. "Those girls should accept you for who you are, and you are perfect. They are wrong to judge you for how you look. And, sweetie, I need you to trust me on this... Dieting is not the answer." A few tears slipped down Emily's cheeks. "I'm just so tired of feeling this way, Aunt Miranda." Miranda embraced Emily, holding her close. "I know, Em. But we'll find a way to deal with this together. You're not alone, and I promise you, it will get better." As Emily found solace in Miranda's comforting words and comforting caress, Abigail and Margaret quietly entered the living room. Emily did not notice them and jumped slightly when Margaret cleared her throat. "There's something we need to discuss with you,” said Margaret in her usual matter of fact tone. Emily turned from Miranda and looked at from her mother to grandmother with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Abigail, took a deep breath, and spoke. Her voice was gentle yet firm. "Emily, this situation at school has gone too far. We've decided it's best for you to take a break for a little while." Emily's eyes widened, a mix of relief and confusion washing over her. "You mean, I won't have to go back to that awful place?" Abigail nodded, a reassuring smile on her face. "That's right, sweetheart. We want to give you some time to heal and regain your confidence. We want you to feel safe, so you don’t need to go back until you feel better." Miranda smiled with a warmth n her eyes. "We want to remind you that you are surrounded by people who love and care about you. We will always be here for you." Margaret added, "You've been through a lot, Emily, and we're here to help you regain your strength, both emotionally and physically.” Her voice was gentle but resolute. Emily felt a rush of emotions. It was the first time in a long while that she felt truly safe. She could hardly believe that she wouldn't have to face the bullies at school. Abigail continued, "During this break, we're going to make sure you have everything you need to feel better, both inside and out. We want you to be happy and healthy." Emily's eyes welled up with tears of gratitude. "Thank you! All of you." The family embraced Emily, reminding her that they were her unwavering support system. Emily began to believe that her family's love was all she needed. However, their plan merely continued as they made sure Emily was enveloped in their care and affection. Over the weeks, Emily's confidence slowly began to rebuild. Her family was diligent about providing her favourite meals and treats, ensuring that she felt safe, loved, and, above all, cherished. Abigail and Miranda continued to work on improving their culinary skills, experimenting with new recipes that delighted Emily's taste buds and Emily's heart started to heal as her family's care became her sanctuary. She did not question their intentions, convinced that they were acting in her best interests. With time and support, Emily's self-esteem grew stronger, allowing her to face the world with newfound courage. The family's carefully orchestrated plan was back on track, reshaping not only Emily's body but also her belief that she was truly loved. * * * The month off school provided much needed respite for Emily, and in the haven of the family home, warmth and care enveloped her like a cocoon. The family's plan continued seamlessly as Emily revelled in their attention amidst the abundance of her favourite treats. It also meant more time for special lunches; indulgent meals and desserts meticulously prepared by Abigail and Miranda. The home was constantly filled with the aromas of rich pastries and decadent cakes, coaxing Emily to cosset herself further in their sumptuous offerings. Over the weeks, Miranda, aware of The Cult’s looming decision, made a concerted effort to pamper Emily with extra treats, cakes, and snacks and persistently encouraged Emily to indulge in the family's culinary creations. "Emily, you must try this tiramisu we have been working on," her aunt would say, her voice sweet and persuasive. "I think it's irresistible, but we need to know if you like it." Each afternoon, the family fell into a routine of board games and art projects, and this creative respite quickly grew to be Emily's favourite pastime. As always, they cleverly placed a plethora of biscuits, chocolates and sweets within her reach to keep her grazing. Emily had certainly gained a noticeable amount of weight since her 14th birthday, though she remained unaware of the scale of her transformation. Abigail had become an expert at understanding Emily's preferences, and the family indulged her with all the extra treats, larger portions, and sweets she desired and Emily's body continued to take on a plumper, more curvaceous appearance. Her waistline was definitely expanding; her cheeks were rosy and full, and the softness of her belly and thighs became more pronounced. It was a transformation driven by her family's love which Emily now equated with them feeding her, though she remained blissfully unaware of the underlying motives. Saturday night arrived, marking the end of Emily's month long hiatus from school. It was a special evening for her; the family was gathered in the living room and they allowed her to choose her favourite takeaway for dinner. Emily picked pizza, and they ordered a lavish feast that included various toppings, garlic bread, and a mouth-watering selection of sides. The anticipation in the room was palpable as they set up a cosy movie night, Emily's preferred way of celebrating. The large spread of pizza boxes transformed the coffee table into a cardboard mosaic, and they settled in with the film ready to play. A selection of snacks was also scattered around, ready to accompany the evening's entertainment. They shared laughter, stories, and their thoughts on the movie and Emily was content and full, her heart brimming with warmth and love as they sat together as a family. After the evening ended, Emily headed to her bedroom, a comfortable fullness in her belly. She climbed into bed, feeling completely satisfied, and soon she was lulled into a deep sleep by the warm contentment; her night was filled with pleasant dreams. However, while Emily slumbered, her family gathered in the living room, a sense of tension settling in the air. Margaret felt that the time was right to begin explaining the family's true purpose to Emily. Her power within The Cult was considerable and she possessed a ruthlessness that allowed her to make difficult decisions, irrespective of who would be affected. Her primary concern was The Cult's interests. Miranda, on the other hand, was in turmoil. Her foremost aim was to shield herself from The Cult's attention, compelling her to advocate for Emily's continued weight gain, even if it meant manipulating her niece further. As they debated the matter at length, Miranda presented her case with a passion, trying to make is sound born out of concern and love for Emily. She argued that Emily should gain more weight before they tell her about The Cult, knowing that the larger Emily got, the safer she herself would be from their clutches. Margaret, with her cold and calculating demeanour, had a different perspective. To her, The Cult's interests always took precedence. She was willing to let fate decide whether Emily or Miranda was selected, as long as her power and their family's standing were preserved. Margaret did not want to reveal the full story to Emily; instead, she hoped to manipulate her granddaughter to make the choice to continue eating rather than go on a diet. Margaret was not interested in Miranda's objection that Emily may choose to diet if given a free choice; one of the girls would be selected either way. The debate went on for hours, but eventually, Abigail, wracked with guilt over their manipulation and its impact on Emily, sided with Margaret. Her heart ached for her daughter, and she felt that Emily deserved to know at least some of the truth and to make her own choices. The decision was made: they would inform Emily about the choice she needed to make, but the details of The Cult's intentions would remain concealed for now. Sunday came, and it was a day of family togetherness. Abigail, the homemaker of the family, decided to prepare a lavish dinner. She was an excellent cook, and the aroma of her dishes filled the house, enticing everyone. As the day progressed, Miranda could neither relax nor shake off her nervousness. She had a hidden agenda, even though the family's meeting last night had seemingly put their differences aside, and as Emily relaxed, Miranda subtly pushed more snacks and cakes on her, disguising it as extra treats. She couldn't let her niece start any weight loss regime. Her life depended on Emily being The Cult's chosen one. The family dinner was a grand affair, with Abigail serving her family a hearty meal filled with all the dishes Emily loved. They gathered around the table, and the food kept coming as Abigail dished out generous servings to everyone. Her concern for Emily took the form of nurturing her with larger portions. After dinner, they typically transitioned to their favourite board games, creating a comfortable, familiar atmosphere. Emily expected nothing less this Sunday but as she stepped into the living room, an unnerving shift struck her. Instead of the familiar game board and the cosy, relaxed afternoon, she found her family waiting for her, the atmosphere heavy with an unspoken tension. They obviously had something important to discuss with her. As Emily settled into her chair, she noticed exquisite éclair pastries, carefully arranged on a plate and sat directly in front of her. Each pastry boasted a rich cream filling and was coated in a thick, decadent layer of chocolate. Miranda didn't say anything, but her actions spoke volumes. She gently pushed the plate closer towards Emily as she sat down. With everyone gathered, Margaret brought out a set of bathroom scales prompting Emily's heart to flutter with unease. Her innocent eyes oscillated between the ominous tool and her family, seeking answers in the palpable tension that had descended upon the room. Margaret began to speak, her voice gentle and almost motherly, but there was an underlying tension in the room. "Emily, my dear, you're heading back to school tomorrow, and we don't want you to face any more… unpleasant situations. We don’t want a repeat of the issues with Samantha." Emily’s gaze fell to the floor, memories of the cruel bullying resurfacing. Margaret continued, "So, we thought it would be a good idea to weigh you. It's essential to make sure you're safe." "Weigh me? But why?" Emily’s voice trembled, her concern evident. Abigail answered the question, her voice warm and caring. "We want to make sure you're well-prepared for school, sweetheart. This is just to help you." Even Miranda chimed in, adding, "Don't worry, Em. We all care about you." Reluctantly, Emily stepped onto the scale, her face flush with nervousness. The numbers confirmed her suspicions: She was definitely heavier, and the room seemed to grow more tense with every passing moment. Margaret observed the readings on the scale and nodded. "It does appear that you've gained some weight over this last month, sweetheart, but that's perfectly fine. You are a growing girl, after all." Despite her grandmother’s comforting words, Emily's heart sank. She was aware of the changes in her body; that her once lean figure had softened and rounded out over the years. Yet she was still unaware that this was a transformation which the family had carefully orchestrated. Margaret explained, "We want to give you a choice, Emily. You can decide to diet and go back to school tomorrow, but we can't guarantee that you will be free from bullying there, or you can stay at home with us. It will be entirely your choice." Emily was stunned, her mind reeling. The room grew still as she grappled with this decision. She could feel the family's gaze boring into her, and the tension in the air was palpable, but Emily could only gaze back at them with a mixture of confusion and fear. This was a turning point, a choice that could shape her future in ways she hadn't imagined. She needed more information before making such a monumental decision. "What will happen if I choose to go back to school?" Emily asked, her voice trembling. Margaret leaned in, speaking gently. "If you decide to return to school, my dear, we'll support you in every way we can. But there's no guarantee that you won't have to face those mean girls again. We'll do our best to help with your dieting and losing weight, but you will probably still encounter challenges." Emily's eyes filled with worry. She considered the torment she'd endured from Samantha and her friends. Could she face that again? Emily then inquired, "And what if I choose to stay home?" Margaret's tone was reassuring. "If you stay home, sweetheart, life will continue as it has been. You'll be well taken care of by all of us. We'll make sure you're comfortable and happy." Emily was puzzled. She had expected a more detailed explanation, so she pressed further. "But what about the diet, you mentioned it earlier. How will that work?" Margaret sighed and exchanged a frustrated look with Abigail. She had hoped this would be a quick and easy decision. "The choice to diet will always be yours,” she explained. “If you decide to go to school you will also have to choose whether you want to diet or not, but we'll ensure you're safe and loved no matter what you decision." It was a vague answer, and Emily sought more clarity. She looked towards Miranda, hoping for some support, and noticed her aunt's visible anxiety. Every time Miranda attempted to speak, Abigail and Margaret silenced her, their intentions clear: they wanted Emily to have only the information they deemed necessary. Emily felt a growing frustration at the evasiveness of her family, their lack of clarity unsettling her. "I need to understand how the diet will work. What does it involve? How will it affect me?" Emily pushed for more information. It was clear that she would not make any decision without the full facts. Abigail stepped in to elaborate, though her response still left Emily dissatisfied. "It's essential to understand that a diet means different things to different people. We'll always ensure you eat regularly and eat well. We only want what's best for you." Emily's mind was a whirlwind of uncertainty. Her family had answered the questions without actually telling her anything and there seemed to be an undertone to their replies which, whether real or imagined, left her feeling trapped and unable to make a clear choice without the information she craved. Once again, she gazed at Miranda, her eyes begging for guidance, but her aunt's hands were tied. Emily felt a deep, gnawing anxiety and looked again the plate of éclair pastries, sat tantalizingly before her. Despite the recent revelation about her weight gain and talk of dieting, the sweet pastries proved irresistible. She couldn't defy the allure of the creamy, chocolate-covered treats, her fingers trembling as she reached for one, her willpower weakening in the face of the delicious confections. However, even as she indulged in the first bite, her determination to understand the implications of her decision remained unwavering. Between bites of the éclair, she continued to press her family for more information, her tone determined yet tinged with vulnerability. "It’s a big decision for me Grandma. Please, can you be clearer?" Emily's eyes locked onto Margaret's, searching for a commitment. Margaret hesitated, her piercing gaze meeting Emily's. "It is very simple, Emily. Whatever you choose, we'll do our best to protect you, but if you go back to school, we can't guarantee anything." Emily's heart sank at the uncertainty of that response. She took another bite of the éclair, savouring the sweetness on her tongue, as she prepared to ask another crucial question. "But if I decide to lose weight?" She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. It was Miranda who offered the comforting touch and Emily noticed that the anxiety in her aunt's eyes had transformed into a fierce determination. She was no longer willing to remain silent. With a steadying breath, Miranda finally spoke up. Her voice trembled but carried a profound sincerity. "Emily, I want you to know that whatever you decide, I will support you. But, if you decide to go to school, there's a chance that, well, things might not change as much as we'd hope." Her eyes darted briefly toward Abigail and Margaret, who exchanged wary glances. "It's difficult to predict, Em. You might still have to face the bullying." She glanced back at Emily, her expression conflicted. "But if you choose to stay home, we'll take care of you, just as we have been doing this last month. You won't have to worry about bullies, and you can have all the delicious treats you want." Emily’s mind started racing at the mention of more food. She hesitated for a moment deep in thought and then with her voice laced with uncertainty asked: "Does that mean that if I choose to stay home, I will gain more weight? Will I get even fatter?" Margaret's gaze bore into her, her expression unreadable. The room fell into an eerie silence, the weight of Emily's question hanging heavy in the air. Abigail looked at her daughter, her eyes filled with a strange mixture of concern and anticipation. Finally, Miranda cleared her throat, her voice almost a whisper as she answered, "Well, Em, if you stay home, we'll take care of you, make sure you're happy and comfortable. You can enjoy all the things you love, including your favourite food and treats. But, yes, it might well mean, you could gain a little more weight." She averted her eyes, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of the dining table, unable to meet Emily's gaze. "It's all about what you want; what makes you happiest." The stillness in the room seemed to grow as Emily processed the information, her decision looming before her. Margaret sighed impatiently, her voice holding a tone of finality as she spoke. "Emily, dear, you must understand that whatever you choose there will be consequences. This is part of growing up! At school, it will be bullying, but if you decide to stay home and embrace a life of indulgence, well... You have just had a month of that lifestyle and you have gained several pounds! If that is your decision, you know that you'll have a loving family, a life free from worries, and it will be filled with decadence, joy, and everything you desire. However, there is a very real possibility that you might find yourself changing physically." She paused, her eyes locking onto Emily's, her words firm. "We need you to be certain about this choice. If we remove you from school, it will be very difficult for us to get you back in, so make the decision as if there will be no turning back, regardless what you decide. It's either you go back to school and start your diet, facing potential hardships, or stay home and live a life of abundance, even if it means you'll be... chunkier. It's all about your happiness and what you truly want." The atmosphere in the room seemed to grow even heavier; the gravity of the decision pressing down on Emily's shoulders. Emily, her mind spinning with thoughts, took a deep breath. She thought of her family, their love and care, but also the undeniable allure of the indulgent life they offered. She was fully aware of the consequences, yet the sense of warmth, love, and comfort in her home was overpowering. The bullies, the struggles at school they seemed distant and insignificant in comparison to the affection and support she received here. With a firm, unwavering tone, Emily made her decision "I choose to stay home," she said, knowing that, for better or worse, she was committing herself to a life that had suddenly become both inviting and intimidating. The path ahead was uncertain, but she had chosen the road leading to the family she loved and a future filled with the comforts she had grown to adore. * * * The room was thick with a murky cocktail of triumph and relief, yet there was an undercurrent of silent apprehension. Emily's decision had been made, and it was now clear that their peculiar family dynamic, built on secrets, would persist, enshrouding her in both affection and mystery. With that one choice, her future had been determined and Emily had unknowingly sealed her fate. Abigail took complete control of their mission, and with a sense of duty, she pushed forward, driven by the assurance that Emily was willingly, even eagerly, embracing this path. Her culinary creations expanded in scope and richness and the family openly expressed their love for Emily through food. The dinners were boisterous affairs filled with laughter and joy, each family member working diligently to ensure that Emily's plate was never empty. Their encouragement was fervent, showering her with praise for every morsel she devoured. They loved watching the fruits of their labour materialise, with Emily's body slowly but undeniably changing: her figure rounding out with softness. As the months went by, Emily's appetite continued to grow, as did the number of treats and snacks that found their way into her eager hands. She was no longer just a willing participant but an enthusiastic one. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, an ordinary afternoon took a dark turn as Margaret, with an air of unsettling determination, guided Emily into the living room. Abigail and Miranda joined them, taking their places quietly on the sofa. As Emily settled in, her eyes fell upon the bathroom scales and tape measure laid out on the coffee table and the usual atmosphere of family warmth suddenly felt ominous and disturbing. Margaret's smile was tight; the warmth forced as she began to speak in a calculated tone, almost as though her words had been rehearsed. "Darling, we've observed how much you've embraced this life, the changes in your body, and your love for indulgence. We want to ensure you continue on this path that you relish so much and therefore, starting today, we will institute regular weigh-ins and measurements.” Anxious and slightly alarmed, Emily struggled to grasp what Margaret meant. Her mind churned with questions, doubts taking root as she traced back the patterns of her family's behaviour. Something was not quite right with their formality today; there was something they were not telling her. Emily pondered the last few years, her brow furrowing in contemplation. Each memory, each indulgence, now seemed like pieces of a puzzling game she hadn't known she was playing. She considered their affectionate gestures and the sheer amount of food provided, her hand subconsciously rubbing her rounded belly. Each detail began morphing into something sinister under her scrutiny, and a thought began to take shape; a haunting whisper lingering in the corners of her mind, although she felt reluctant to accept such a chilling possibility She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt before finally mustering the courage to speak. "I don't understand, Grandma. I thought... I thought gaining weight was just happening because of how we were living. But you make it sound… planned?" Margaret's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Her response, delivered with an eerie calmness, felt almost rehearsed. "Oh, it's a bit of both, dear," she offered vaguely, the words sounding less like an explanation and more like a generic comment. Emily sensed a veiled intention behind Margaret's answer, an unsettling realisation that things weren't as innocent as they seemed. She looked at Abigail and Miranda, but they both sat in silence, adding nothing to the conversation. Emily's thoughts raced, a growing awareness stirring a disquiet that edged toward dread. The seemingly benign gestures now appeared as threads woven into a complex, ominous design. “You see, we have been creating a loving environment where you feel free to enjoy life,” continued Margaret. “The goal was to ensure your happiness, security, and well-being. We certainly succeeded in this! But now we need a more structured approach." Emily could not shake the feeling that there was more to this; the whole thing went much deeper. "Are you saying that you wanted me to gain weight?" Emily’s voice quivered with a growing horror, though a part of her desperately clung to the hope that her conclusion was somehow mistaken. "Why? How long have you been planning this?" Her words faltered, each syllable laden with a mix of disbelief and the dread of uncovering an unsettling truth. Her eyes darted between her family members, an unnatural silence lingering as Margaret paused, deciding how much to reveal. "We believe this is the best path to happiness, Emily. We've been laying the groundwork for quite some time.” Emily's eyes widened as the brutal truth crashed over her like a dark wave. The idea that her family could orchestrate her weight gain left her feeling hollow and trapped in a web of manipulation. A gnawing sense of paranoia gripped her and she felt an icy knot forming in her stomach. Emily's eyes fixated on Miranda, her gaze piercing her aunt and closest confidante. When she spoke, her voice was tinged with a mixture of frustration and desperation, and unable to hide the feeling of betrayal. "Miranda, why would you let them do this to me?" Miranda squirmed uncomfortably under Emily's intense scrutiny. The guilt of her own involvement left her wrestling with her conscience and when she spoke her response was barely a whisper, laced with regret., "I... I thought it was for the best. I wanted to secure our future." Tears welled up in Emily's eyes as she considered Miranda's words. The deception cut deeper than she had imagined, a searing wound inflicted not only by her mother and grandma, but also her aunt, who had been a surrogate big sister as well as her most trusted and dearest friend. The truth, raw and unvarnished, left her feeling utterly helpless. Amid the suffocating silence that hung in the room, Abigail attempted to console Emily. She reached out and gently placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder, but did not speak. Miranda, no longer able to meet Emily's gaze, lit a cigarette with trembling hands, taking deep drags to calm her own nerves. She couldn't bear to look at her niece, knowing the role she had played in this elaborate deception. In contrast to her daughters, Margaret remained unmoved a self-satisfied smile playing on her lips. “Now, as I was saying, Emily,” continued Margaret leaning back in her chair, “our aim is to ensure a secure future. We'll be meticulously monitoring your on-going progress. It's about making calculated adjustments for your well-being and confirming that you are reaching your goals." “Goals?” Emily frowned with curiosity and a hint of trepidation. The earlier mention of weigh-ins and measurements had given an unnerving hint of a planned transformation. Now the idea of goals showed that this was no longer about occasional indulgence; it was a systematic approach to intentionally increase her weight further! Margaret nodded and continued, seemingly indifferent to Emily’s increasing distress. "Yes. We intend to set specific and achievable targets for your weight gain." It was not a question and Margaret was not asking for Emily’s opinion. It was a statement of fact, defining a new reality. Emily felt a surge of revulsion and disbelief at the notion. Her emotions swirled, but despite the whirlwind of confusion and fear clouding her thoughts, pieces of a dark puzzle were falling into place, completing the horrifying picture she hadn't dared to see before. The mention of target gains really struck a nerve, and Emily realised that this wasn’t merely about her choices; her family was involved in something far more insidious than they let on. “No more half-truths or vague explanations. I need to understand what's really been going on," Emily insisted, her voice a blend of anger and desperation at her rising sense of dread. Margaret sighed, her patience wearing thin. She locked eyes with Emily and spoke with an unsettling clarity. "Alright Emily, I will give you a straight answer! You have been nurtured and loved and we have all worked to ensure your happiness. We've encouraged your enjoyment of food, especially those delectable desserts you adore, and as we hoped, you've indulged in every dish and treat. You have allowed yourself to become, shall we say, pleasantly plump. But Emily, it has been your choice; we never forced anything upon you. However, our intention now is to ensure you do gain more weight, to create a life of love and abundance.” A wave of conflicting emotions swept through Emily as Margaret's words hit home. She felt a twinge of disappointment with herself, reluctantly acknowledging the countless times she overindulged in the sweet temptations offered by her family, but beneath that acceptance lingered a sense of injustice. They had knowingly exploited her weakness, enticing her with a never-ending supply of cakes and desserts; they were certainly complicit in encouraging her to stuff herself beyond restraint, deliberately leveraging her own cravings against her. Despite Emily’s acceptance of her own actions there was a definite realisation of her family's manipulative intent. "So you want me to continue gaining weight?” Emily said slowly. Margaret's expression remained stoic, her gaze cold and unwavering as she slowly nodded in acknowledgment. "Absolutely! We will encourage you to eat even more of those desserts and cakes you love so much," Margaret replied, her tone clinical and her eyes glowing with an unsettling sense of victory. "And of course, we will be increasing your portion sizes at meal times, because now that you understand what we plan to do, subtlety is no longer necessary.” She paused thoughtfully for a few seconds and then reached a decision. “In fact, we may as well begin fattening you up tonight!" Margaret’s unflinching admission landed like a crushing weight upon Emily's chest, shattering her sense of trust. Violation, deceit, and a suffocating feeling of being used melded into a torrent of emotions within her. The stark reality of her family's calculated manipulation overwhelmed her, leaving her reeling in shock and disbelief. As she grappled with the burden of this revelation, a chilling uncertainty crept in, hinting at darker truths lurking beneath the surface. Shadows seemed to elongate, a foreboding atmosphere weaving an unspoken narrative of hidden agendas. Emily sat in silence, her mind confronting the horrifying reality of her future and the gnawing curiosity that whispered of secrets yet to be uncovered.