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A short trip.

You can't afford to fall asleep, not with Rick ready to do who knows what. You slap yourself across a flabby check, trying to get the blood pumping, which setts it wobbling as you struggle again to get up, trying to block out the tv. Rick watches, amused by your attempts. "Come on," he says, "You can do it, work those muscles!" he encourages, before pushing you back again once you finally make it. You tray again and again, a dozen times, each time Rick pushing you back while you are left panting, ending with your muscles finally giving out, you sweating and panting. "Oh, you look hot, let me get you something to drink," he says, disappearing for a moment and coming back with a cup of water. You take it, too thirsty to argue, and drink. You feel a little better. A little woozy... and, why is the room swirling?

"Now, let's try once more," says Rick, "Watch the screen, aren't you hungry?" he says, and you see the screen seem to spin and see images of food. "N...no," you say, but your stomach growls, and you realize you do feel hungry. And stuffed at the same time. "Wha...what was in that?" you say as the room seems to spin. "Ah nothing much..." says Rick, "Just a few appetite stimulants, a few hallucinogens, and water of course."

You pant, looking at your hands, that seem to warp in front of you, 'bigger is better,' you hear, but are not sure where it came from. You watch as your fingers swell up like balloons, before your hand floats up on a string and disappears heavenwards. 'eat' you hear, and see your stomach open into a mouth as cheesecake starts appearing and dropping into it, groaning contentedly. You look at Rick, "Please stop," you say, as his image warps, and you see yourself standing there, fat as ever, "Why do you hate me?" you say, then he starts deflating, suddenly becoming skinny. As you watch his bones become more and more apparent, "Do you want to look like this?" you say to yourself, before all that is left is a skeleton, which falls apart.

'eat'

You look to the side and see yourself fat again, seated on the couch, eating sweets with a happy expression. Albert and Fred are there. "Bigger is better," Albert says. "Eat more," says Fred, offering a pudding mold, which you take and swallow.

"No..." you say to yourself, trying to get a grip, closing your eyes, "I don't want..."

"Come now," come your voice, and you open to see yourself standing over you. "You know this..." he puts his hands on your stomach, messaging it, easing the stuffed feeling, "is what you want, you can eat anything and not worry, and it feels so good." It begins to feel good, and as you watch it swells and feels warm and comforting.

'more'

'bigger is better'

You wince, trying not to feel good about it, but it does. You don't know what to do. So you do the only thing you can think of.

**SLAP**

The pain makes everything fade, and you see the room again. Rick in front of you, messaging your stomach. You try to kick him, only for your foot to hit is flabby stomach. "Oh, your back then," he says, "How are we feeling, a little more complacent?" he says, you growl at him. "How about some pudding," he says, putting a chocolate mold in front of you. Your stomach growls, and your mouth waters at the thought. 'N...no," you say, trying to fight off the influence of the drugs.

"Come on, there's always room for pudding," says Rick, wobbling it back and forth hypnotically. You can't take your eyes off it, but still fight. "I don't... want it..." you say conflicted, wanting it despite yourself.

"Have it your way," Rick says, leaving it on top your stomach within your reach. "I can wait. A few more... sessions, and you'll be eating out my paws."

You know he's right. A few more trips like that, and he'll have you brainwashed.


Written by an anonymous author

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