ImpressionsYou wasted a lot of hours wondering, didn't you? Breaking the very pointless into the extremely pointless, and degrading the extremely to the impossibly. But I can assure you, that no matter how pointless those thoughts are, the action itself holds meaning. To reduce everything in this world to rubble is to understand the universe at a primal level.
At first, I feel inclined to regret it. To advise you not to do it. Yet, I know such a request would be superfluous and even counter-intuitive. After all, I know you like I know myself. I know that such a warning would not deter you, but riddle you with curiosity until making you shatter in one prolonged episode of moral depravity.
So I won't tell you to stop. In fact, I will tell you the opposite. Do it. Do it as quick as you can. As much as you can. As healthy as you can. The sooner you discover the truth that I wish I could have never known, the sooner you can get past it. The sooner you can accept it. Your life doesn't have to be
VoicesYou're one of the most fascinating people I know.
Really. It's true!
But that doesn't make you good. It doesn't make you right, either Maybe I'm not the person to make that call, since I don't really know what either of those things are; however, I'm confident they are not you.
You live a very ironic existence, don't you? Purposeless and apathetic. Only finding motivation in the petty and the depressing. And you wonder why you hate life. You've never lived a day of it. You watch other people live it, and you wish you had what they have But you can't. You can't ever be like them, can you?
See! That's why you're so interesting! Anybody different is met with curiosity. Anything that breaks the norm is a learning experience.
But some people are different and typical at the same time. They have these unique quirks about them that make them seem interesting on the first glance; but it is only upon close examination does one realize how typical they really are.
I have trouble with
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.
Force FeedingIt was early morning. The last tray of food was placed on the table. Amy's ruby lips formed a small arch of excitement. After all of the money, time and effort she had managed to construct a banquet large enough. Before her were three tables, piled high with assorted goodies. Cakes, biscuits, pastries, sweets. Enough confectionary to kill, she thought, but she had no intention of dying. This thin woman wanted to eat, and the urge was so powerful that she had to leave the room simply to avoid surging into one of the gorge mountains. Now in the kitchen, she returned to the open book on the side counter. It was a telephone directory, open at a section entitled "Plumbing Services." She took out her phone and dialled.
Mark's whistle was shrill and tuneless. He was not whistling because he had a catchy tune stapled to his mind. He was not whistling because he enjoyed it. He was whistling because the street was gravely silent, and silence scared him. There was but one house, and it was choked
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.
Morgan (Redone) Part 1(XWG, SSBBW, overeating)
(This story is based on a work over at the Dimensions forums that was not only abandoned, but which had serious flaws to begin with. I know it's often arrogant to say "I could write better than this," but this is a case where I felt it was plainly obvious. So, I've redone the story in my own vision. I also have an idea for Part 2 where things really get out of control, which I'll probably post only here because the Dimensions forums don't usually get that kind of stuff. Hopefully it won't take long before I write and post Part 2, but feel free to bug me if a month goes by and there's nothing.)
“What, there won’t even be any cake?” Morgan asked incredulously.
“No. Especially not a cake,” her mother answered calmly, folding laundry “You’re turning 18 tomorrow, so I can’t control what you eat, but I won’t let you stuff yourself. If having a cake is that important, you can buy your own.”
“But I d
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