Read Between the Lines

You never expected such a corny thing to work yet here you were, standing in front of a mirror while the awe-struck expression of a gorgeous woman stares right back at you, her tight, petite body obscured beneath clothing that was a few sizes too big for her. Turning back towards your computer, you take a moment to reflect on what brought you here: Browsing the Internet without a care in the world, you somehow happened upon a website detailing all sorts of strange rituals, from creating a love potion to even stranger ones yet. The long winded one that you happened to pick transformed you into the woman of your dreams. The ritual itself only required a bit of focus and the appropriate words. What started as an evening of curiosity was quickly turning into a fun way to spend the next few days.

Disregarding the fine print of the ritual you haphazardly conducted, you instead direct your attention towards looking for some suitably exciting house party to invite yourself into. Before you knew it, you were out the door dressed in little more than a pair of jeans and a loose tank top. Being that you were gorgeous, you had no trouble getting into whatever party you wanted.

The entire week was little more than a blur. You went from one party to the next like it was the end of the world, guzzling down booze and pizza as though you've never enjoyed either in your entire life. You shamelessly revel in attention all the while, whether it's charming a guy or two into getting you a drink or enjoying all the looks you get whenever you leaned over a counter or showed off in some other similarly risque fashion. You were easily the life of the party and it was beyond simple to convince any of the guys there to bring you to the next party, and the next one, and the next one...

You stir awake after a particularly long night of partying, sprawled out in someone else's bed alone while loud music thumps just outside the door. Checking your phone, you're shocked to discover that it's been an entire week since you started this whole bout of debauchery. Figuring that it was time to put things to rest, you sit up in bed and navigate to the strange webpage from before, taking a moment to look at yourself in a nearby mirror. Your long week of letting loose was blatantly obvious: Stuffing yourself full of cheap, greasy food along with all that booze left you sporting a soft pouch of a belly - nothing you would have to worry about in a few moments. Worse yet was the fact that you were still wearing the same clothes all week, you hoped that nobody noticed.

You scroll through the solid block of text that made up the spell's various warnings and considerations, scoffing at the idea of having to maintain a 'uniform figure' or having to sanitize the 'ritual area'. What did you care? Magic was magic after all, and you were starting to get bored of this act - it was hard enough to enjoy yourself with guys constantly checking you out or shamelessly trying to cop a feel of your tits.

After a brief moment of thought, you set your phone down to begin the ritual in earnest. Much like before, you close your eyes and focus before speaking the indicated words of power. You recall feeling ridiculous the first time you did this, that is, until you saw that gorgeous, unfamiliar face staring back at you in the mirror. Within moments, you feel strange but something isn't quite right. The subtle, lingering tingle you remember is far more intense than before and you can't help but feel bloated and uncomfortable. You squirm against the bed and peer downwards just in time to catch your pouch of a belly surging out with a jiggling layer of solid fat, your breasts struggling to catch up as they fill out before your very eyes.

Panic quickly sets in - this wasn't supposed to happen! You desperately hope that this is just some minor mishap, but things were only getting worse. It was like your previous week of greedily indulging in all sorts of vices caught up to you in an instant. Your loose clothing grows snug against your swelling frame, layers of fat distorting your curvaceous shape until it was all but gone. You can feel the seat of your jeans hug your ballooning ass, seams popping audibly as if to remind you of your plight. A quick glance downwards reveals your growing tits sagging against your belly, which was more than large enough to eclipse your rack. The arms of your t-shirt dig into your swelling arms, forcing soft swells of fat to bulge out. A reluctant glance towards the mirror proves to be shocking. You can feel your heart leap into your throat as your eyes fall upon what must have been one of the fattest girls you've ever seen in your entire life. You note your gigantic, flabby belly weighing against your spacious lap, cringing at the way it bulges around your trunk-like thighs.

Before you could even gather yourself, your thoughts are cut short by a sudden sharp pain within your stomach - the ritual wasn't done yet. You struggle against the bed, its frame screaming for mercy beneath your ponderous weight as some unseen force continues to wreak havoc on your body. Ominous rumbles and gurgles from your gut accompany intense discomfort. You squish a hand into your stomach, only for the growing pressure to give way to an enormous, smelly fart that leaves you gasping for fresh air. Evidently, the ritual drew some kind of conclusion after an entire week of stuffing yourself with only the cheapest and greasiest food possible. It didn't take you long to figure out that the ritual was turning you into an enormous, hopeless slob of a woman. You stare at yourself in the mirror for a few moments, desperately reciting the words of power again and again but nothing happens. The very thought of being stuck like this leaves you on the verge of tears.

You lift your arms to feel along your chubby face, gagging at the sudden stench of rancid body odor, another product of this twisted ritual. You struggle to heave your enormous body out of bed, having to squish your massive thighs beneath your drooping stomach just to stand up. The sight in the mirror is nearly enough to make you faint: An obese, poorly dressed woman gasping for breath, damp stains of sweat present all over her snug clothes, her ass and stomach hanging out for the world to see. Somehow, the stench of sweat had gotten even worse. You clumsily pivot around to get a good look at your enormous ass, two great circles of sweat tracing your ass cheeks.

Pushing any immediate thoughts of panic to the back of your mind, you figure that it might be best to hurry home and try to resolve whatever mess you got yourself into. You stand at the door for what feels like an hour until you work up the courage to leave, but not before allowing an obscenely loud fart to slip from your ass, the awful noise and smell enough to give you second thoughts about leaving. Finally, you work up the courage to leave the room. 

Stepping out into the lively party, it was impossible to ignore just how differently you were treated now that you were visibly the fattest woman there. Trying to squeeze by a group of guys rewarded you with barely contained looks of disgust instead of interest or arousal. Worse yet was the fact that you had no easy way of getting home like this - you were at some stranger's house halfway across town and you didn't see yourself walking home anytime soon. You figure it might be best for you to get home the same way you got out here by enticing some 'lucky' guy with your new body. Unfortunately for you it wasn't enough to act like a tease to get your way; the first few guys you awkwardly flirted with rejected you bluntly. Feeling tears well up in your eyes, you decide to hide in the bathroom to compose yourself for your next attempt, taking a few precious moments to release some of that pent-up gas while you sulk at your reflection in the mirror.

Finally, you set your sights on your next target: A quiet looking guy seated on a couch nursing a drink who was an appreciable distance from the rest of the partygoers. Feeling more than a little desperate, you saunter towards him with a smile dancing on your lips just barely concealing your nervousness. You struggle to hold his attention, having to flash your cleavage and hug your tits just to get him to look at you. It was clear he was more than a little intoxicated which made things as easy as you hoped even if it was just as clear that he wasn't totally interested in you. Hoping to hold onto his attention, you carefully shift against the couch, planting your enormous, cellulite-ridden ass atop his lap before pulling him into a deep kiss. You feel him shudder and groan beneath you, gagging softly at the stink of sweat wafting from your cleavage, forcing you to press in closer. You seize one of his hands and guide it towards your ass, tingles of arousal leaving you feeling faint once he begins to feel you up. You knew you had him wrapped around your finger once you felt his erection poking against your belly.
 

"Want to go somewhere more private, like my place?" You whisper into his ear, hoping he'll get the hint. You lean in a little closer, sneaking a flabby arm towards his bulge. 

 

Dread slowly begins to set in at the sensation of yet another fart building up. You sit there awkwardly, doing everything you can to hold your gas, only to grunt loudly from the effort of venting a thunderous, wet fart. Your 'date' practically vanishes, mumbling a few halfhearted excuses as he scrambles out from underneath you. You sit there alone on the couch, trying to keep yourself from bursting into tears, the miasma of sweat and flatulence choking the air around you. You could hardly believe that this was supposed to be you. With a reluctant sigh, you stare down at your ruined body, figuring that you might just have to accept being stuck as an obese, gassy slob of a woman.