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Trying to convince her friends and relatives in Austria that she was comfortable with her current size was as difficult as assuring someone that you were OK with being on fire. During her first week back after her school year in the US, she saw puzzled, even hurt looks on their faces as she rejected their unsolicited gym membership offers and diet advice. Her body was not their project. She didn't need fixing.
At least, not the kind of fixing they had in mind. Sophia stared at her reflection in the mirror, her hands swirling over the taut fabric of her shirt as if her belly were a crystal ball. What did the future hold? She narrowed her eyes, imagined the hem of her shirt retreating over a growing, globular gut. Outward her stomach swelled. Downward the guarantee of gravity tugged, until it crowded her lap even when standing. An inflating spare tire of fat ballooned over the tightening waistband of her shorts- mmm.
She cradled her chest, savoring the weight of her breasts, wishing for even more, envisioned them ripening to triple their current volume. Her hands were cupping them now, her fingers twiddled insistent nipples until her breathing became heavy and she felt heat between her legs. So soft, so heavy now, yet trivial compared to her best feature.
Her ass was big now, but not as large as it loomed in her fantasies. She gripped her generous buttocks, kneading, needing more, thinking how hot it would be to see her blubbery thighs rip the seams of her shorts apart. There'd be acres of exposed skin. Sophia stamped her foot to see her ass jiggle, appreciating how that looked now, and salivating at how it might look soon: a fleshy earthquake accompanied by the sweet creak of tortured floorboards.
Yes, oh yes- Sophia had plans. She ripped open the snack cake wrapper with the aid of her teeth. Her other hand was busy.