“It’s not coming out!” Sumireko Ogawa moaned, flopping back onto her small apartment’s bed, a blank page on the laptop in front of her. “I know I usually have it bad, but this is seriously bad! I can’t even get a paragraph going!”

Sumireko would have rolled back and forth petulantly, but her massive I-cup breasts made the act a cumbersome proposition, spilling back and forth and requiring serious back muscles to carry comfortably. As big as her head and perhaps then some, the exceptionally busty writer could have had a legendary career in JAV if she hadn’t had too much self-respect, and so she was instead putting on what might have been the show of a lifetime in private, her surprisingly flat belly poking out underneath her tank top, while her curvy hips were packed into comfortable shorts.

“Alright, one more try!” Sumireko pulled herself upright so fast her udders nearly hit her in the face, cracking open a third beer and trusting in the alcohol to further loosen the rusty doors to her creativity. Unfortunately, all it left her was back where she started, but now thoroughly drunk, as one can led to another, and only her consideration for her meagre wages at the book store she worked at stopped her from downing more. That and that the extra calories would probably just make her chest get even bigger.

“Alright!” She said, standing up on unsteady feet, face flushed. “Time for my secret weapon!”



She stumbled over to where a particularly well-worn book was sitting on top of a stack of significantly newer ones, easily standing out even in her collection.

“Surefire tips on how to be a writer, by… somebody or other.” Sumireko’s vision was too blurry to make out the author’s name, having to find her glasses and squint just to read the pages within. “If this doesn’t work, I’m blaming you, Adashino…”

The book must have been thirty, forty, or even more years old with its old-fashioned cover and yellowed pages. It had been the subject of conversation between her and her pint-sized co-worker Adashino Ren, who had jokingly (or not, it was hard to tell with how sassy he was) that if she was having trouble getting a good manuscript going, perhaps she could take some advice from it. The book had been reverse-shoplifted, as the store called it, onto the shelves, with a note written inside claiming that it had been used by a famous author that Sumireko respected to get their start. It was a nice sentiment, but she doubted its authenticity, and had only taken it home on a whim.

“But I’ve already tried all of this stuff!” She whined, flipping through the pages. “I’ve seriously tried every dumb trick in this book and none of it is working!”

She scoured the pages, hoping her buzz wouldn’t wear off by the time she was done. Eventually she landed on one that caught her attention.

“Never write on an empty stomach.” She laughed at the banal advice. “Well, you know what, I am getting pretty hungry. Worth a try, right?”



Her imaginary audience didn’t respond as she dug through her fridge for some convenience-store dinner, pausing as she looked at the ones she’d bought on sale for several days in advance.

“Just how much is full, anyway?” She wondered, deciding to shrug and take out everything that was ready to eat.

“Alright, let’s get started!” she said, cracking open another beer for good measure as she started to wolf down

–

“Ugh, my stomach’s gonna burst…” Sumireko moaned the next morning, rubbing her visibly distended stomach as she recovered from her drunken impulse decisions. Her usually flat belly, a slight point of pride that it had remained that way for somebody without the best of diets, was turning noticeably curved, a testament to having pushed herself to her limit. Still, one bad night wouldn’t kill her figure, and at least it had absorbed enough of the alcohol to make sure her hangover was minimal.

“Great, now I’m down dinner for the rest of the week.” She grumbled at herself. “I barely even remember enjoying it. Did I even get anything done?”



She looked at her laptop apprehensively. She remembered writing enthusiastically after finishing all that food, empty containers scattered on the table around it, but she doubted that any of it was any good. But to her surprise, her jaw nearly dropped at what she saw.

“This is… good! Really good!” She exclaimed. “Better than anything I’ve written so far this year!”

Overjoyed at her breakthrough, Sumireko immediately tried to ride the momentum and keep going, only to find herself similarly creatively blocked. What had been so easy the night before struggled today, like the story she’d envisioned and the excellent prose that went through it had been plugged. Maybe it was because her stomach was starting to feel less bloated already…

Sumireko persisted for another day, until she finally gave in and admitted that her spike in productivity had been a one-off. Or had it? Her stomach rumbled, having reached the end of the day without eating anything after cleaning out most of her apartment.

“It’s worth a try, right?” She said, making a trip to the local convenience store…

–

“You’re in a good mood today, senpai.” Adashino noted, the two standing next to each other at the register after serving a customer. “That guide end up working out after all?”



“I guess you could say it did.” Sumireko said smugly, a smile on her face for her entire shift. “Well, sometimes the simple things are what help the most. Not that I’m telling you exactly what it was.”



“Trade secrets, I see.” Adashino said playfully. “By the way, I couldn’t help but notice…”



“What, the aura of talent?” Sumireko’s puffed up ego was swelling with how proud she was of her current flow, good ideas flying off the pages for the first time in years.



“Your chest has gotten bigger, hasn’t it?”



“Adashino, this is what they call workplace harassment.” She said, holding her hand above his head and threatening to bring it down.

“I’m merely observing a fact.” He said calmly and rationally. “Don’t try to deny it, I have a photographic memory when it comes to your boobs.”



She brought the hand down. He was right though, her chest was quite visibly larger, as she’d been cramming her stomach as tightly as possible after work every night, until you could see it turn almost spherical. After several weeks of this, she was paying the inevitable price on her figure.

Her boobs had gone up at least a cup size or too, uncomfortably tight within her overstuffed bra, to the point that it was only her good mood that allowed her to ignore it. Even to the casual observer, they were bigger and heavier, and they were starting to strain even her apron, and she’d had to leave her usual hoodie unzipped to make room for them. Although you could barely see it beneath said apron, her stomach was also showing the obvious signs of overuse. Eventually it had simply stopped flattening out, enough pounds added that the bloated pot belly she sprouted after stuffing sessions stuck around, albeit heavily overshadowed by her breasts. She could feel a slight muffin top sagging over the waist of her jeans, her thighs pressed tight against the denim as they threatened to split the seams. There was no denying that her already sizeable ass had gotten fat, and she could feel the pressure whenever she crouched or bent over to check the store’s shelves. Even her arms had gotten softer, obscured by her baggy sleeves.

“It’s just your imagination.” She insisted. “I’ll have you know I have a perfectly healthy diet.”



“Hmm, perhaps it’s time to get myself glasses then. I would never much such a mistake, to misjudge your breasts.” He said, Sumireko just barely staying her hand. “Just make sure you aren’t overeating, Miss Sumireko.”

“Of course. Maybe I’ll take up jogging too if that’s what it takes to convince you.” She said, having no intention of doing so. It might have been a ridiculous method to force herself to write, but she didn’t have time to waste, she had to ride this wave to the finish line, no matter what it took…

–

“Yeah, this isn’t gonna cut it.” Sumireko held up her bra with a grimace, not even bothering attempting to shovel her basketball-sized boobs into it. Basketball might be underselling it, she thought as she cupped them with her hands that were too small to hold more than a fraction of their immensity. She dropped them and let them bounce down to where they they were almost starting to introduce on her gut’s territory, which itself was pushed out far enough that it sagged under its own weight down past the waistband of her thankfully highly flexible shorts. The legs of the shorts were on the verge of tearing, appearing almost skin-tight with how much her fat ass filled them out, her jeans impossible to slip into by this point. Only her arms were possible to obscure with the loose sleeves of her hoodie by this point, as she could only throw it over whatever she was wearing, without a hope of drawing it shut. Only her face was relatively unscathed, looking a little fuller, but to the point that if she took a selfie and cropped out everything else, she could pretend she was the same as always. But who knew how long that would last…

But that wasn’t a problem for somebody who was sitting around their apartment practically in their underwear… except she couldn’t fit into her underwear either. She’d managed panties and shorts somehow, although they were on their last legs, but her chest’s ability to absorb the majority of the calories she poured into her body meant that it was time to suck it up and go get a new bra. She’d have to go braless on the way there, she’d realised, which she wasn’t looking forward to with how inadequate her clothes were.

Her stomach growled, demanding more food for her creative sustenance to the point that she considered a quick trip to the convenience store, or maybe just getting delivery instead of going through the hassle. But the last of her dignity demanded that she be at least presentable for her shifts at the bookstore, even if she spent most of them wishing she could be back home writing.’

100, 62, 93. Those had been her three sizes before her diet imploded, something she never thought she’d go beyond, and now she had overflowed those by double digits. She didn’t even know where to begin measuring herself. A J-cup? L? Maybe more? The thought was intimidating, but she knew that she couldn’t stop here, not until her manuscript was done. It was so good, it didn’t matter how absurd the methods she used to get there were. She didn’t like gaining weight, but she hated the idea of going back to her previous status quo even more…

–

“If I may put it politely, Miss Sumireko…” Adashino said, eyeing her during a slow shift. “I think that you may have gone a little overboard.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She said very unconvincingly. Her apron’s strings were a knot tied at the very end, all extra space exhausted. The apron barely made it to her hips, thanks to how much extra space was required to cover her boobs and belly. 

She guiltily chewed on a chocolate bar to tide over her hunger pangs, starting to feel famished if she went more than a few hours without eating now. With each stuffing session she’d increased the capacity of her stomach, and now she needed more food than ever to satisfy the conditions of “a full stomach” or she couldn’t write decent prose at all. She was more reliant on her new method than ever, feeling stressed 

“Stress eating is a bad habit, most people would agree.”



“It’s not stress. I feel great, better than ever.” She said irritably. “It’s just… no, it’s nothing. I’m just trying to get my manuscript done, okay? I need the extra energy.”



“You seem to have plenty stored already.” His eyes turned from her chest that he barely could wrap his arms around to her belly, her clearly braless boobs almost resting on it for support. It might have been dwarfed by them, but it was quite respectable and growing by the day into its own pillow of flab. Her cushiony ass also deserved attention, as the new jeans she had bought were already outdated, her taking up almost twice as much space as she used to behind the register. It had been only a month… maybe more, actually. Sumireko was starting to look track of time, writing in an almost manic fever. She was pushing obesity at this point, if she hadn’t already gone over the line. Even her hoodie’s sleeves were looking rather puffy at the moment, with how bulky her arms had gotten, and her thighs were thicker than the stacks of books she carried as part of her job. 

“It’s seriously not a problem, okay? I’ll just lose it all as soon as I’m done with the last stretch.” She said, although she felt like she might not be even halfway through her book. Her output was so good she kept on going, expanding the scope day by day. It was such a waste to not do otherwise, with how good she was. To keep feeling this way, she’d overwhelm any convenience store clerk with multiple heavy bags of everything they had on sale, or suffer any raised eyebrows from delivery boys. She had stopped caring how fat she had gotten, she had to make it to the finish line no matter what.

“Just remember to not go too far.” Adashino said rather mysteriously. He wondered if eventually, he might have to intervene…

–

“Damn it, I knew I measured it wrong…” Sumireko said, her new M-cup bra not clasping shut behind her, the package it had come in still on the table in front of her. “Agh, whatever! It’s not like anybody’s gonna see me. Nobody said a good writer ever needed a bra!”



Sumireko threw the bra side where it landed near a stack of bento boxes and other plastic waste, deciding that her own sofa cushion-sized gut was all the support she needed. She’d kept them out of her way, but just a day or two of food wrappers and containers were starting to occupy a serious amount of space in her apartment. 

Her chest was so out of control she had to seriously lean past it just to reach her laptop, almost propped up by them as they felt like they took up half her body’s weight. And that was impressive, given how blatantly obese the rest of her was. She was wearing just a tank top that left the bottom half of her boobs exposed and shorts stretched to their limit, having upgraded a week ago and already feeling inadequate. 

“Let’s see, where’s that measuring tape…” Sumireko fumbled around the room for it, finding it under a pile of clothes that no longer fit her. She started from the top, wrapping the tape around her boobs, finding that the tape just barely reached without hitting its limit. Perhaps it’d be easier for her to measure if it did hit the very end, she thought for a second, but was able to identify herself as a 190cm, an M-cup… for now, anyway. Her belly was the easiest to measure, although she could feel the tape pinching into her flab as her belly was slightly suspended by it, settling at 150cm. Finally she tried to wrap it around her hips… and ran out of tape, putting it at somewhere a little over 200cm. She threw the tape away in annoyance, deciding she’d just buy the next size or two up for her pants, and went to her fridge in annoyance.

“Damn it, I thought I had more than this! Damn it!” Sumireko slammed the fridge door shut, nearly knocking over discarded boxes with her boobs as she turned ponderously around. “How am I supposed to write like this!? God, I’m so hungry!”

She crammed her puffy feet into her shoes and reluctantly pulled her plus-sized hoodie as tight across her body as she could, waddling slowly towards the nearest convenience store. She didn’t matter how the part-timer working the register stared at her blowing up like a balloon over the course of almost two months, she needed this book done. Writing it was so much fun, even better than the high of feeling her stomach fill to the brim and recharge her, slowly wearing down like a battery as she digested it. She wouldn’t give it up for anything, no matter how much of a blimp she turned into.

That said, her energy applied to writing, but not the rest of her. She was already huffing and puffing just from walking to the store, sighing in relief when she crouched down to shove snacks into her basket. She took just about everything that she could afford off the shelves, now in a race to finish her book before she ran out of money, as her appetite was rapidly exceeding her means. Even worse, she’d failed to show up at work for two weeks now, having called in sick in an attempt to maximise her time spent writing, then eventually started ghosting her boss. It’d be worth it as long as the manuscript was done, she kept telling herself. SHe just had to hunker down until then and…

“There you are, Miss Sumireko. I thought I’d find you here.”

Sumireko’s eyes widened as she heard a voice behind her, grunting as she pushed herself to her feet. It was the face of Adashino Ren that 

“If you don’t mind me commenting on a lady’s weight, Miss Sumireko, but I’m beginning to suspect that you might have a bit of an eating problem. I’m sorry, but it might be time for me to help you.” He commented, but didn’t have time to follow up before Sumireko dropped her basket, spilling the contents and sprinting out of the store as quickly as she could.

Which was, unfortunately for her attempt to flee, not particularly fast at all. Sumireko lumbered with her entire body bouncing and wobbling for a minute at best before she doubled over, covered in sweat and gasping for air, trying to waddle forwards back to her apartment before he caught up. She hadn’t exercised properly since high school, and was not the running away sort.

“Miss Sumireko-” He started, having inevitably followed shortly behind. She could see her apartment in the distance, and tried to recover the energy for the last sprint.

“Shut up! Leave me alone! I don’t care what you think looking at me, I don’t have a problem!” She protested despite the obvious state of her body. “It’s just a little stress eating, okay? Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a manuscript to get back to!”

“I’m afraid this is more than just a bad habit, Miss Sumireko.” Adashino said, taking her chubby hand so she couldn’t escape. “Let me guess, you took some advice in that book, presumably in regards to eating, and your writing suddenly improved, didn’t it?”



She gaped at him.

“How’d you know? I mean, you could probably guess, but…” She said, her face flushing from more than exertion.

“A placebo effect can’t take you this far. This is the result of a curse that you’ve put on yourself.” He explained. 

“A curse? Come on, that’s just being melodramatic. Look, I just write better when I eat, okay? Simple as that.” She laughed it off awkwardly.

“I’m sorry, but you left your apartment unlocked, and I took a look at that book.” He said, holding the guide up. “This was instilled with a desire to genuinely help struggling writers, and between that and your own desire to succeed, it made sure that whatever advice you tried from it was successful no matter what. If you stop following it, then you lose your ability to write, I’d wager it makes you even worse when you aren’t eating as a result.

“So? If it works, it works. I’ve just got to finish the-”

“And then what?” Adashino cut off her attempt to defend herself. “What about your next book? You’ll be right back where you started. You can’t just rely on this forever. Look at what you’ve done to yourself in just a couple of months. Can you eat like this your entire career? It’s better to eliminate this curse at its source, no matter what the cost might be to your writing.”



Sumireko looked down at her immensity, unable to see her feet past her breasts, and noted just how wide she’d gotten.

“A-alright. Curse or not, maybe this has gone too far.” She said reluctantly. “But I’m so close! I’m seriously so close! Can’t you let me keep it just until I’m done?”



“Do you promise?” He said, willing to concede a little. “You can’t complain about anything I do if you swear to me now that you’ll give it up as soon as you’re done.”



“I promise, I promise!” She said, chest wobbling as she insisted.

“Well, fine then. Just until then.” He said, the half-dressed overflowing butterball that was Sumireko breathing a heavy sigh of relief.

“Also, I’m giving you a deadline, consider me your editor.” He said with a devilish smile.



“That’s even worse than the curse!” Sumireko moaned, her stomach groaning. “By the way, do you mind if we go back? I’m really hungry right now…”

–

It had been a month since their agreement, and two weeks since Sumireko had finally finished her novel, at even greater expense to her waistline. The snowballing of her appetite and the rush to finish as quickly as possible with Adashino as a cutthroat editor had resulted in her putting on weight even more rapidly, and so a particularly bloated, bordering on morbidly obese Sumireko was left having to fully extend her arms to reach the shelves past her breasts, taking up nearly the entire gap between rows by herself. She lumbered back to the counter, boobs wobbling under her extra-large apron the owner had graciously bought for her.

Sumireko exhaled heavily as she settled into her position behind the register, deciding to be the one to speak first. The topic of her weight had been off-limits,but as the resident elephant in the room, Sumireko had been waiting patiently to get the last word in.

“Just so you know, my novel got published,” She said, tugging at the waist of her jeans, her muffin top stopping her from pulling them up any further. “So I have no regrets whatsoever.”

“And now you’ve got publisher expectations on you and you haven’t solved your problem.” He pointed out. “Well, perhaps a confidence boost like this will be what you needed.”



“That’s a real chicken-or-egg problem.” Sumireko mused. “Did I have it in me all along, or would I have never gotten there without the curse?”



She would have debated it further, had her stomach not started loudly grumbling at the mention of chicken.

“No.” Adashino said.



“I haven’t said anything yet!”



“You agreed to go on a diet. The way you live, there’s no way you’ll lose any of this weight on your own. I’m going to have to be your restraint for you.”

“You’re an even worse personal trainer than you are an editor.” Sumireko complained. “Just a little snack, to celebrate!”

“After you’ve gone for a jog.”



“You just like watching me run in that tracksuit that barely fits me!”



“Perhaps.”



Sumireko was halted from escalating by the appearance of a new customer forcing her to put on a smiling face, and Sumireko began to seriously consider giving up and relapsing on that curse…