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Sewer ManIt felt instantaneous. As if I had gone to sleep normal, and woke up deranged. As if in a single moment, I had become what I am. I don't deny it, either my being deranged, that is. Any man, and I use the term "man" loosely, is deranged if they stray too far from the social focal point; and by God have I done that much!
It started as a fascination, grew to be an active interest, and eventually became what I recognize to be an obsession. I even remember the day that I completely regarded myself as obsessed or rather, deranged. I remember my insanity became so consuming that I submitted my humanity to it. Yes, that is why I use the term "man" loosely, because I often question if I am one.
To me, a "man" is one who thrives in social environments. There are odd balls, but even those who are troubled are still "man." However, sometimes you get these exceptions. You get these transgenders. These people who may or may not have social skills, just as a male in a female's body may
Note to SelfYou. Yes, you. This note has been written specifically to you and its contents are of the utmost importance.
Why should you trust me?
I am you from the future.
If you tell anyone this note exists, they either won't believe you or they won't understand the significance. The words will mean nothing to the stubborn and will be impossibly dilute to the gullible. You are alone in this.
I have written this to warn you.
In exactly thirteen minutes, you will die. You need to evacuate your home as quickly as possible. Once again, if you don't, you will die.
I don't have the time to explain the complex series of events that have led up to this moment, just realize that this is a matter of life and death for us both. Do not throw our life away. Please, get out immediately.
If you don't want to leave, AT LEAST turn on all the lights you can find. Then there is a chance it won't find you. A slim chance.
Before I end this message, I must stress what I said earlier: I am you from the future. I
SometimesI wish I could understand myself better.
I want to know what to do.
There is this constant feeling of lethargy crawling on my skin. There is this sudden and fleeting turmoil in my body. And no matter what I try, it never goes away.
Sometimes I'm depressed, other times not. Well, I'm always a little depressed, because that is just how it is. Depression seems to go hand in hand with confusion; at least, it does when you're confused about yourself. How could it not? We are the most important things in this universe.
The universe is seen through us, by us. By not understanding myself, by feeling this chaotic, lethargic, confusion, I'm not understanding the universe which is the most important thing in ourselves.
I've learned a lot through introspection and comparison. I give them credit for my pseudo-intellectualism. Pseudo-intellectualism being the title I dub my ability to appear far more intelligent than I actually am. Then again, I guess I could call it the same thing everybody
Max and Boston, a Pokemon FanfictionMax pulled his face out of the mud and wiped his cheeks. He was panting, struggling to catch his breath. His whole body ached and his eyes were beginning to water. He glanced back at his trainer, looking for some kind of guidance, for kind of command, but none came. All he saw was confusion and panic; it was all he ever saw in Boston. He started blinking rapidly, attempting to arouse himself; he could no longer think clearly. In the corner of his eye he saw a brown creature moving with terrifying speed, and instantly he knew what was coming. His entire body tensed as he braced for impact. A powerful kick to the face sent him flying backwards, on to his back.
Max's eyes opened. The world seemed to be flying by him. Lights were blurring past and everything was blending together, leaving him distraught and afraid. Instinctively, he looked for comfort, for anything familiar. First, all he could make out was a man above and behind him, but he didn't recognize him. He was beginning to panic.
Theme Four: ChangeSome envy the sex. Others the money. And some envy it all. They wish they could have what I have. They wish they could indulge in the treasures I've amassed. They wish they would have been born with that sensation to persevere. They want to have that inborn compulsion to advance. And if they could, they would shamelessly rob me of it.
But can I blame them? It must look like such a decadent life from the outside. To take pleasure in the stresses of progression and to unwind by basking in the things I worked so hard to attain. I must look as though I was blessed by God. I must look like I am a God; some sort of divine entity sent to earth to instruct the lesser how to live. Yet, I am not without flaw. I am not without doubt. Nor am I without misery.
Through years of walking the same road, the same path of responsibility and logic, I have done two things: (1) I have created an unbreakable habit, a thing that I am obligated to obey until the day I die, or suffer the consequences which are
Theme Three: ContentI have been walking through this desert for a lifetime. From the moment I was born and until the day I die. I have walked side by side with my family, my friends, and even my enemies. I have fallen and danced, and have seen the same happen to my brethren one-hundred fold. Yet, despite all of the inconsistencies, some things remain consistent. Despite all of the fallacy, some things are irrefutable.
It is in these niches that I have found my driving force. It is in these exceptions that I survive the intense heat, bear the loss of love; and above all, focus my attention on enjoying life, as opposed to fixing it.
So many times I've seen those with whom I once walked put faith in unreliable sources of instant gratification. I have seen their logic succumb to desperation as they ran wildly at a mirage, ecstatic with joy at their reward; only to discover their reward to be a poisonous creature, disturbed and angry. And many of them, upon feeling that sting, upon feeling that poison once aga
Overindulged It was summer, and a mildy chilly night was coming to its end. A young girl, hidden within her humble apartment, was indulging in the treasures she had summoned from her own kitchen . She quickly became a slave to her own stomach, pandering to its needs and massaging it whenever it stirred. Although already thick, curved and well-filled it remained ever-so demanding, and whenever she wasn't stuffing her face with food she could feel it crying out for more. One luscious treat was soon followed by the next, and as time progressed she found herself taking more pleasure from the feelings within her belly than from the food itself. She sucked the cream from her fingers, licked the grease from the rim of the bowl, but found that nothing could compare to the ecstasy of having an overfilled gut. She could feel her body becoming thicker after each bite, each mouthful, and she often paused to stroke her navel in the hope that she could feel it expanding.
Maura Part 1
This story features obscene levels of weight gain. If that's not your thing, just move along. There's plenty of stuff elsewhere on the Internet to appeal to you.
I don't really believe telling my story will do any good, not when my only option is to throw it out into the morass of ephemera and would-be memes that is the Internet. Then again, the Internet isn't what it used to be, is it? Maybe I'm just writing this to ease my conscience. I feel like I have a lot to answer for, even if part of me rationalizes that my only fault was one bad decision made in a moment of frustration and little sleep.
Let's start at the beginning, because that's where things usually start. They're too afraid to start at the end because they don't want to die young. Excuse me. I haven't slept much the past few months.
It was in Des Moines. I grew up in rural Iowa, bottom of the middle class. Family wasn't rich enough to send me to a big-name college and my grades weren't good enough to get a sc
Secret Sauce 1WARNING: This story will contain scenes of overeating and massive amounts of weight gain. If that's not your thing, bow out now.
Deerglen was an upscale suburb of Star City, built during the tech-boom of the 90's but with more taste and discretion than the tumors of McMansions that appeared throughout Silicon Valley. A planned community, it was intended to be at one with nature, with the houses colored in Earth tones to blend into the oaks that grew there and the yards front and back spacious and devoid of fences.
But for Jill Crowe the houses could have been bright pink with yellow polka-dots, and the yards covered in coals that burned 24/7, and she would still be ecstatic. At only 26 the legal wunderkind had just made partner at Eggerton and Associates, the most prestigious law firm in the city. A massive bump in salary and a congratulatory bonus allowed her to not only pay off the last of her student loans but move up out of her month-by-month rent, ramen three times a week life.
One Last Diaper " if you care for me like you say you do, then you'll meet me at Julien's " That was the last message Janine left on Lavinia's cell phone. It was the last of many such messages that Janine had left, none of which had yet been answered. As Janine walked nervously in the cold city streets, she wondered whether or not Lavinia would bother to listen to her this time.
Janine had been engaged for more than a year to her wonderful boyfriend, Jerome. At least, she thought he was wonderful; he had a chronic case of lateness, no matter what the function, and he absolutely hated romantic comedies (they were all the same, he complained). On the other hand, he shared Janine's unnatural affinity for hummus, and he wasn't at all averse to snuggling on the couch in front of the TV, no matter what movie was on. One night he called Janine and said he would walk her home from work, and as they stopped in front of a caf
The GallonTitle: The Gallon
Fandom: Tiger & Bunny
Characters/Pairings: Kotetsu (Wild Tiger)
Warnings: belches and hiccuping
Summary: There's a gallon of milk obstructing the space in Kotetsu's fridge and to get rid of it, Kotetsu decides to drink it all.
Kotetsu had just come back from shopping. When he opened the door of his fridge his eyes immediately fell on a large gallon container of milk. How could they not? After all, the thing was taking up all of the top shelf, lying on its side. It had been planned that Kaede would be visiting for the weekend and Kotetsu hadn't wanted to have to run out to get milk every morning because they'd used it all up too quickly. So he'd tried to find a larger than usual quantity. However, all he could find was the usual small ones and the really large gallon containers which the parents of large families with four or five kids tended to buy. Kotetsu didn't usually need that much milk, but i
Mandy TG"Mandy, you can't go out you have to go to the prom!" I scream.
"Whatever, nobody cares about grade seven prom." She retorts. Then she slams the door and walks out
I fume for a bit before I stomp up to my room.
Then, I hear her stupid ringtone go off. If i listen to it for more than thirty seconds my head explodes, so I darted forward into her room and looked at the caller ID, wondering if I could just hang up.
It was her boyfreind, Max. I put on a falsetto voie and awnser.
"Hey pumpkin." I say.
"Hey cutie."He replies. "You ready to go out tonight for the prom?" He asks. I think fast, Mandy probably sais she would go with Max then ditched and forgot to tell him.
"Sure." I say, might as well humilate Mandy.
"Cool, I'll be there in five." He replies. I hang up and sit doen on Mandy's bed, facing the closet. I remember one time she yelled a certain outfit and it appered on her floor, then she put it on. I don't know how she did it so I decided to try it.
"Prom!" I yell. Then I hear a robo
Maura Part 2WARNING AGAIN
More weight gain, and even fatter woman now. Don't like that sort of thing, why are you here?
I woke up the next morning stiff and freezing. The sun was just now rising. I still felt tired, but I wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep. So I drove back to the freeway and headed back for the town where I had gotten the rental car from.
I didn't know what I was going to do. I figured it would be a day or two before Maura was discovered, and I wasn't sure how things would play out then. Whoever went there wouldn't be enslaved, but neither were they likely to do anything to stop what she was already doing.
Thinking it over as I drove, another idea occurred to me. I made a few phone calls to various news agencies, both in Des Moines and nationally, and gave them a tip that the FBI was about to move in on some suspected terrorists today.
Would any reporters be interested enough in following up on the tip? I hoped at least a couple would be, wanting to scoop the compe
BethanyBethany was the girliest girl that you'd ever meet. Her strawberry blond hair always smelled sweetly of cinnamon and spice, her chubby dimpled cheeks were always rosy with blush and her moist little lips were always frosted with pastel pink lipstick. A little round diva that loved shopping, shoes and sugar, she was used to be being pampered like a big fluffy kitty. Her parents made sure that she never had to dirty her hands growing up, so she was a bit soft ball of fluff by the time she met her husband-to-be. They fell in love immediately, and knew they would never be apart. He knew that he would always want to be around to protect this giggly little cupcake.
Bethany grew into even more of a plump little pumpkin of a princess under Ted's care, so round and full that she looked like a sugar bun filled to bursting with sweet cream. Her perfumed cleavage tested the pink buttons of her fuzzy sweaters. Her pillowy belly settled onto her plush thighs.
Heavy Rain: Madison's RapePaco walked ahead into his private room, his semi-drunken grin still hanging across the side of his face; for a heavyset man, he certainly could put some pep in his step. The real motivation, Madison thought, was obvious.
Madison Paige was a woman on a mission. Reluctantly, that night at the Blue Lagoon, Paco's little dance joint, that meant she had to be sexy. She was woman in her mid-twenties, with a bob-cut of brunette hair, frizzed in a sexy fashion; her red blouse showed a nice little triangle of cleavage, and her black skirt had been torn at mid-thigh meticulously, to show a little more leg for Paco(a little more leg, and a little more cleavage than Madison had ever felt comfortable showing).
The Origami Killer? Madison tested the thought carefully against the facts, against her intuition, unzipping her bag to check the contents; Paco was ruffling around in his room a few feet ahead, out of sight. Paco Mendez is not the killer; but he owns the Marble Street apartment, w