This item, when worn, increases the wearer's cup size to their desired size upon passing a saving Wisdom throw (DC 15). In a failed save however...
well
hopefully you have stretchy clothes :)
thinking of a pre-anything trans guy being granted the wish of having his "ideal body". at first, he rapidly masculinises, which is what he expected. flat chest, voice drop, hair growth - years of HRT and surgeries occuring in a matter of moments. he thinks it's over, but he hadn't factored in a key detail - his fetishes.
a swell of muscle causes his clothes to tighten slightly, and a swell of soft fat causes them to stretch beyond capacity before inevitably tearing around his growing form. surprised as he is, he can't help but feel around his body as it takes shape. squeezing, pinching, stroking. lifting his gut. groping between his thighs. his moans are deep, deeper than he could've gone just a few minutes ago. he's over twice the man he used to be.
One of my favorite rapid/magic wg tropes is when they're handed big clothes that when they try on, they grow to fit it. Whether it's incremental, so you're a M and you're handed a L and now you fit a L, then you're handed a XL and so on and so forth, OR you start a M and you're handed a XXXXL and you suddenly start ripping through your clothes to fit it.
Bonus points if the weight gain stops a little past a perfect fit. So the clothes that fattened you up are just a liiiittle too small and tight. Not enough not to wear, but enough you know you won't be able to wear that piece for long
I don't like Valentine's Day. Never have. Usually I just go home from work, sit down in front of the TV, enjoy an easy dinner, and pass out on the couch after drinking a whole bottle of wine.
Today I took off my shoes and coat at the door and am about to start my yearly ritual when there was a soft knock. I turn back to my front door and frown. I wasn't expecting anyone.
The hallway of my apartment building is empty. Except, of course, for a pretty large heart-shaped box of chocolates placed perfectly on my welcome mat. Over the swirling cursive that declared "Happy Valentine's Day" on is a sticky note that reads "Eat me ;)".
I look left and right down the hall. Nobody's there. And I had been so close to the door they couldn't have run away that fast. Maybe one of my neighbors left it. I shrug and pick up the box.
I turn on the TV to some random channel and a romcom I don't recognize starts playing. I just need some background noise so I let it go while I make dinner, pouring myself a large glass of wine to drink while I cook.
I had planned chicken alfredo, so I set the water to boil and get out the ingredients for the sauce. I take a couple gulps of wine (wanting it to work as quickly as possible) and after setting the sauce pan on the stove I notice the chocolates where I had left them on the counter.
Both pans were playing a waiting game now, so I flip open the box. There is a large assortment of all different kinds of chocolate and fillings. A few with nuts and a few with dusted freeze dried fruits, and a few with hearts drawn in pink chocolate. The artistry is excellent and this is not a small box. It must have cost a fortune, especially on Valentine’s Day.
I have never been skinny by any means, but I have gained a couple pounds since I started my new office job and I'm watching my weight. Who am I to say no to free chocolate, though? One or two won't hurt.
I pop one in my mouth and go back to cooking. There is an almost unnoticeable twinge in my gut, like something changed but I couldn't pin down what. I guess the wine is starting to make me bloated. I drain the glass and pour another one, grabbing another couple chocolates.
There's that feeling again, deep in my stomach. My brain starts to be a little fuzzy, too. I finish my second glass of wine, so again, probably just the alcohol making me bloated. My pants do feel a little tight. I probably should have changed into sweats before I started cooking.
The water starts boiling, so I add the pasta and stir the sauce. Then leave those to cook while I go to my bedroom to get out of my work clothes. Something feels different while I walk. It's such an odd thing, like my body is wobbling more. I'm already shaky because I'm definitely tipsy, so I just blame the alcohol.
I unbutton my jeans, which I admit are starting to get really uncomfortable and sigh with relief. It's a little bit of a struggle since I'm off balance, but I manage to get them off and pull up a pair of sweatpants. I get rid of my bra, which is also feeling tight and uncomfortable, and switch out my work shirt for one that was much looser fitting.
I frown down at myself. My belly is brushing the fabric of my shirt. It isn't pushing against it at all, but that's definitely not how it fit the night before when I wore it to bed. I guess that wine is making me really bloated. I'll have to check the label and make sure I don't buy that brand again.
I go back to the kitchen to finish cooking and eat four more chocolates. The weird feeling in my gut is louder this time and I almost let out an involuntary moan. Something feels off.
I eat another chocolate and as I'm drinking a little more wine I notice that my sweatpants feel like they fit awkwardly. Like I can't get comfortable in them. I pull them up a little more, having to shimmy to get them higher over my hips and my belly. I guess I put on a little more weight than I thought. My shirt is also laying different, my belly poking out noticeably under the fabric.
There are only seven more chocolates in the box, so I might as well finish it. I eat six in quick succession and my stomach twists, growling loudly. My belly feels heavier and my whole body feels warm. I drain my third glass of wine and finish plating my food. Pouring myself another glass, I eat the last chocolate, then I grab my food and wine and go to the couch to sit down. One movie is ending on the TV and another one is starting.
I put my food and drink on the coffee table and as I sit the waistband of my sweatpants disappears under my belly. I don't lean so much as fall backwards, my gut demanding space. I rock side to side to push myself up and my belly spreads my legs apart. I notice how tight my shirt is. It's hugging my boobs so hard it's squishing them. My belly, hanging over my sweatpants, is peeking out under this shirt that I'm pretty sure fit me last night. Maybe it didn't.
I place my hands on my gut and shake it a little. It jiggles pleasantly. My whole body feels so much heavier. My hips, my belly, my boobs. I shift on the couch, not used to this new weight and trying to find a comfortable position. It ends up being more of a roll, though. I must look about nine months pregnant with triplets with how big my middle is. I feel almost pinned down under the weight.
My stomach whines, reminding me that I haven't eaten dinner yet. I lean forward, groaning with the effort of reaching over fat I'm almost positive wasn't there when I got home, and grab my dinner and my wine.
Two stories in one week? Wow! I decided I needed a Halloween story on the day of. I tried to get it done in time, but I'm an hour into November my time. Enjoy anyways!
Synopsis: Happy Halloween! Help yourself to some sweet treats. Please Take One, and have a great night!
“Look, a candy bowl!”
My boyfriend, Owen, and I were walking home from a party late Halloween night (Technically early November), when he noticed a small witch’s cauldron outside of a house. It had clearly been full of candy at the start of the night, but had been picked over until only a couple of handfuls remained. On a sign beside it, in flowing script, said ‘Please Take One’.
We both loved Halloween, but for different reasons. I loved spooky movies, trick-or-treating, haunted houses, all of the classic stuff. Owen loved it for the Mean Girls reasons. The costume parties and being dressed up as sexily as a twink could be. You could tell by our couples costumes. I was in a good quality Batman suit that showed off all of my muscles, while Owen was wearing just enough fabric to call it clothing, with cat ears so he could be ‘sexy Catwoman’. My insistence that Catwoman was already sexy when she was in a form-fitting catsuit that would have offered some measure of protection from the cold, night air had fallen on deaf ears, so he currently had my cape wrapped around him for warmth.
All this to say it’s surprising when Owen lets out a little squeal of excitement and takes the whole bowl of candy and keeps walking.
“Whoa, babe! What are you doing? The sign says to only take one…”
Owen rolls his eyes as he unwraps a chocolate.
“Oh, come on Bryson, it’s 2 in the morning! There’s no kids still out trick-or-treating at this time of night,” He said, before popping the chocolate into his mouth and starting on another one. “Plus, I was dancing all night, flexing these sexy little abs for my man, and I could use a treat!”
He revealed his admittedly sexy abs, swinging his slim hips back and forth, before laughing and popping another chocolate into his mouth.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. Owen always had a way to keep me from getting upset with him, mostly by getting my dick to think instead of my head, like right now. I wrapped my big arms around his little shoulders while he worked his way through some more candy, letting him know how turned on he got me by pressing myself into his back.
“But still, Owen, what about their bowl?”
With a mouth full of chocolate, Owen groaned. “I’ll bring it back tomorrow, Bry! It’s like, 10 feet from our house!”
It wasn’t, but it was pretty close. We were already walking up to our door only a few moments later. And, admittedly, there were so few chocolates left in the bowl that Owen had already finished it, saving one of my favourites for me.
Once inside, Owen quickly dropped the cape, along with what little costume he had on, except the ears, and turned to me, seductively feeding me the last chocolate.
“Now, why don’t you show Catwoman a good time, Batman…”
~
“Look, a candy bowl!”
My boyfriend, Owen, and I were walking home from a party late Halloween night (Technically early November), when he noticed a small witch’s cauldron outside of a house. It had clearly been full of candy at the start of the night, but had been picked over until only a couple of handfuls remained. On a sign beside it, in flowing script, said ‘Please Take One’.
We both loved Halloween. Owen was a real costume party lover, while I loved the more traditional, spooky Halloween activities, but over our time together, we learned to appreciate each other’s favourite parts of the holiday. That’s probably why it wasn’t as surprising as it would have been a few years ago to see Owen so excited about Halloween candy.
Once upon a time, Owen had been a tiny, sexy twink that would hang off of me, pulling me to parties to show off his gym bro, beefcake boyfriend to all of his friends. And while I grew to enjoy those parties, we also started spending plenty of time at home, relaxing and getting to know each other better. That’s how I found out Owen had a bit of sweettooth, and how I found myself encouraging it during the holidays with chocolates and candy.
The, shall we say, results of feeding that sweettooth, did nothing to keep Owen from a sexy costume, as we walked down the street in matching Batman and Catwoman costumes. Mine fit well, showing off all of my muscles. Owen’s catsuit fit great, if a little snug around the middle. I got to take in the bit of the chub that had grown around his hips and ass when he jiggled ahead of me and grabbed the whole bowl of candy.
“Whoa, babe! What are you doing? The sign says to only take one,” I said, struck briefly with a strange sense of deja vu.
Owen’s round face turned a pout. “Ah, Bry, I’m hungry! I spent too much time dancing and missed out on most of the snack table at Monica’s!”
I couldn’t help but smile. Owen knew I couldn’t say no to those chubby cheeks. He had been a little embarrassed about gaining some relationship weight, but my admittedly enthusiastic reaction to having more of him to grab and jiggle was something he quickly began to enjoy - and take advantage of.
“Well… So long as you bring it back when you’re done…” And suddenly, I get to see the dimples on his smiling face. God, he was hot when he was thinner, but he’s become downright adorable with a couple dozen extra pounds.
Overcome, I heft him into my arms with a grunt and carry him the rest of the way to our door. He’s loving the display, laughing and cuddling up into my shoulder while he pops candies into his mouth. Owen stretches up to kiss me, and I can taste the chocolate mingle with the alcohol on both of our breaths.
Owen still had a few chocolates left when I tossed him onto our bed, but as I peeled off his tight costume and showed my appreciation to every inch of his thick body, he made quick work of them, moaning the entire time.
~
“Look, a candy bowl!”
My boyfriend, Owen, and I were walking home from a party late Halloween night (Technically early November), when I noticed a small witch’s cauldron outside of a house. It had clearly been full of candy at the start of the night, but had been picked over until only a couple of handfuls remained. On a sign beside it, in flowing script, said ‘Please Take One’.
Owen loved a party, especially a Halloween party, but even he’d admit that he probably over did it tonight. My big, beautiful man was waddling slowly by my side. His thick thighs and wide ass usually slowed him down, but all of the dancing, and the frequent breaks to raid the snack table, was clearly taxing his knees more than usual. I had nearly convinced him to stay in and watch some scary movies, but the guy was made to shake it on the dance floor. And my man had a lot to shake.
We were sort of dressed in a couples costume, with my fit, strong body filling out a Batman costume in all the right ways, while Owen had skewed more towards catboy than Catwoman, wearing a thin, mesh crop top and matching black booty shorts, along with cat ears and a collar with a bell. I had joked that he’d make a better Penguin than Catwoman, but I wasn’t going to talk Owen out of being sexy. He knows how showing off his body gets me going.
I was doing my best to support him, letting him lean on me as we rounded the corner towards our home, my big, muscled arm across his back, occasionally squeezing his equally large, flabby arm. That’s why I called out the candy bowl. The walk to the party had already been pretty hard on Owen, so I knew that he’d need a reward for all of the walking on the way back. I don’t know why I didn’t think he would immediately go for the whole bowl, but I can’t say it was surprising that he did.
“Whoa, babe! What are you doing? The sign says to only take one,” I smirked, as if his gluttony was somehow unexpected. “We’re going to have to replace those cat ears with pig ears if you keep this up!” Somehow, despite my jokes, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had said something similar once, though I meant something different back then.
Owen just rolled his eyes and got to work on the easiest candies to unwrap, stuffing them into his hungry mouth as quickly as he could. God, he knew how to get me going. He’d told me once, when we were starting to date, that he had been a twink before he got fat, and it never seemed less true than when he was eating. He was ravenous all the time. But now, while he’s putting on a show for me, the idea that he was ever anything more than a decadent pig seems impossible.
I feel myself getting hard and antsy just watching him slobber over handfuls of candy and chocolate. Owen lets some of the chocolates warm a little in his hand before stuffing them in, letting some of the melted pieces smear across his mouth and bulging cheeks. He side-eyes me, proud that he’s practically making me drool at the sight of him.
As we reach our door, I snatch a candy out of the bowl, quickly putting it in my mouth. I don’t chew or swallow - I didn’t even bother taking the wrapper off. I just wanted to see what he’d do.
His mouth hangs open, turning his big double chin into a triple. “Bryson, these aren’t yours!”
“Well’ they’re not yours either!” I say, removing the candy from my mouth before unwrapping it and hand-feeding it to him. “I’m going to have to return that bowl because you stole it piggy, remember?”
Owen just huffs, satisfied that his ill-gotten treasure was safely returned. He heads inside, turning his hips slightly, almost without thinking. He’d started brushing his hips against most doorframes, and acted accordingly whenever his supersized ass was coming or going. He tried to make a beeline for the couch, but I quickly grabbed his meaty arm.
“Nope, bed. If you pass out on the couch, you know I can’t get you to the bedroom anymore!”
Tired, yet satisfied, Owen made a show of grumbling as I lead him down the hall. He was much too tired to get too hot and heavy, but I helped him out of his skimpy outfit, taking the opportunity to jiggle every hanging roll, straining my muscles to lift up his massive gut to tickle around his fatpad.
Afterward, I went back to the front door, where Owen had abandoned the candy bowl. Noticing that there were still three candies still in there, I quickly popped them into my mouth before heading out to put the bowl back before anyone noticed it was gone.
~
“Look, a candy bowl!”
I was standing outside of my boyfriend, Owen, and my front door, after seeing the last of our guests out of our party late Halloween night (Technically early November), when I noticed a small witch’s cauldron outside of a house down the street. It clearly would have been full of candy at the start of the night, but judging by how many trick-or-treaters we got, it probably still got some candy in it. I could faintly see what was probably a ‘Please Take One’ sign on it.
I looked out to either end of the street. No one’s around. In fact, most people’s light-up decorations have already turned off, and the street was completely dead of activity. I take a second, think things through a little longer than there’s any reason to. Then I jog down the street to grab the bowl and bring it back to my man.
I feel crazy betraying the sanctity of trick-or-treating traditions, but we had eaten through all of our snacks and treats. I loved Halloween, and all of the spooks and scares and smiles that come with it. Owen did too, but he also loved a party. Not that you’d tell by looking at him. My massive man didn’t let the sheer expanse of his gut, or his meaty arms, fatter than most people’s thighs, or the rolls of fat all along his back, keep him from a good time, even if the good times needed to come to him more than they used to.
Now, it’s pretty easy to command attention when you take up most of the space in the room, but Owen was always the center of attention in the clubs, and that hadn’t changed, even if he’d outgrown the clubs. He spent the night in his personal loveseat, presiding over the party like a god, with his cat ears on his head and shorts that were completely obscured by the exceptional amount of fat that had been lovingly grown around his middle. He never strayed too far from any bowl of chips, candy, or chocolate, except on the rare occasion that the playlist played a song so fire that he would have no choice but to rise to his feet laboriously and sway from side to side until he got too tired and slumped back down. And ate.
Upon arriving at the bowl, I smile as I realize that I was right. Though it’s not much, there’s still a few handfuls of candy left to share. I take a second to catch my breath, taking the opportunity to munch on a candy or two, before I quickly head back.
Didn’t expect a quick jog down the street to get me so winded. I think to myself that I should probably get more serious with the gym, not that I’d ever been too serious with the gym. As someone who’d much rather sit around at home watching a movie, it’s probably no surprise that I’m not the fittest, but I at least had a semi-consistent gym schedule before dating Owen. Yeah, I had never been one for the treadmill, even back then, but maybe I need it if 60 seconds down the street and back can get me bent over, hands on my knees like I am right now.
I probably would have fit better in my Batman costume with a better gym routine too, not that Owen complained. He actually laughed out loud at how small the generic “one-size-fits-all” costume was. I had spent the entire party with the zipper in the back only halfway zipped up. Thankfully the cape covered it up. I would have also liked it if I had the muscles to properly stretch the sleeves the way my pot belly stretched out the middle.
It’s just so hard around Owen. He knows every button to press. Whether it’s wobbling every inch of his own body, enticing me with its movements like a bird’s mating dance, or it’s his constant poking and jiggling of my own expanding flesh, whispering words of encouragement with a proud, satisfied smirk.
He’s wearing that same smirk when he watches me walk back inside, pot of proverbial gold under my arm.
“Whoa, babe! What are you doing? The sign says to only take one!”
When he says that, I feel strange. Like that was something he had already said before. Or… Had I said it? When? Back when Owen was a twink with my muscular arm draped over him? But Owen’s been chubby his whole life, and supersized for as long as I’d known and loved him. And I…?
“Well, are you sharing them, or not?” Owen asks, oblivious to the confusion that slips my mind as soon as he speaks again.
I smile, and hand the bowl to Owen, before getting down on my knees in front of him. His great, sagging gut is in the way, but as he begins to munch and moan through his sweets, I push my way underneath it, hefting it up as much as I can, until I find a salty treat of my own within the fat between his gigantic thighs.
~
~
~
It takes a few more nights, caught blissfully unaware in the time loop, before the two men respect the card, with its beautiful, flowing script. More precisely, once Owen grew too large to leave his home, it was Bryson’s own growing gluttony that eventually pushed Owen into immobility.
Then it was only another night or two before Bryson’s new, supersized body became too lazy to walk across his lawn, much less down the street.
The two men loved each other, and they loved Halloween. Even if Bryson needed numerous days to put up the same amount of Halloween decorations a fitter man could put up in an afternoon. And even if Owen’s sexy costumes were only able to be appreciated by a party of one. As much as he liked a good party, he had always been too fat to be accepted in the clubbing scene. At least, he was now…
On the night that they were finally free, they had dressed as Batman and Catwoman. Bryson’s last pair of black shorts were so tight that the stitching was separating, but he needed to stuff the lowest few inches of his cumbersome gut into the waistband so that his too-small Batman graphic tee looked closer to a short crop top instead of obscene. He had opted just for the mask, without the cape, as it meant that the fattest parts of his face, his chipmunk cheeks and rolls of fat he called a neck, wouldn’t need to struggle to be contained.
Owen, meanwhile, had a much simpler costume. A pair of cat ears sat on a band in his hair. He was entirely nude otherwise, something that wasn’t surprising for a man that had outgrown practically all clothing some time before. He had ordered several yards of nearly translucent, black fabric, which he draped luxuriously over his expansive mass of gelatin, almost intentionally incapable of covering most of his body. With the slope of his belly hanging past his knees, arms so fat they had long begun to lose their full range of motion, and hips, miraculously, wider than all of the rest of him, that wasn’t a hard feat to accomplish.
But they were happy. Ordering copious amounts of pizza and wings to sate them while they worked through their favourite scary movies and avoiding the trick-or-treaters who approached their door, having eaten each and every candy in their home before the first of them had ever arrived.
And the witch who cursed her cauldron of candy was also happy when she returned to her home late the next morning, as all but a few handfuls of candy had gone to such good boys and girls the night before, who each took only one piece each.
She was unaware that, only a few doors down, the friendly, obese man and his even bigger boyfriend had been the peak of fitness just the day before. She was relieved that they seemed to prefer staying in on Halloween.
They didn’t look like the kind of people who stopped at just one piece…
