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gutgirllover

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  1. Thanks for the feedback! I hadn't noticed the long hand on Daisy Ridley, haha. I'll probably fix that at some point. I think you're right about the images, though, the Kate Upton one lent itself to morphing much better.
  2. Decided to try my hand at morphing, but I wanted to keep the images looking as realistic as possible, so I tried to keep a fairly light touch. Daisy Ridley was already looking fairly heavy in the photo I chose, so I mostly focused on thickening up her waist and removing muscle tone. The Kate Upton pic required more alterations, and is probably my favorite of the two.
  3. Posting a lightly edited version of a story from my old DeviantArt account because it's set in the same universe as a new piece I'm working on. Feedback is always welcome! HALLOWEEN, 2046 “You should have mad gut confidence!” Tam exclaimed, watching the wobbling orb of fat that was Natalie’s pot belly, as it hung over the waistband of her underwear. “That thing looks even bigger without your clothes on.” “Ha! Thanks, Tam. I do like my gut.” Natalie agreed, smacking her toneless midriff for effect. “Lott greasy food goes into it.” “I’ll say. I’ve seen you eat! But seriously, though. What is that, forty inches at least?” “Forty-two, actually. But who’s counting?” In truth, Natalie was but she wasn’t about to admit to that particular vanity. Changing into their costumes after having finished the food preparation for their two families’ joint Halloween party, both women’s excessive weight was on immodest display. Each looked very fashionably overfed, and knew it. Tam, despite her petite, Asian bone structure, was sporting a thick layer of fat over her entire body, and thick rolls on her sides. Natalie, meanwhile, had a comparatively thin, even delicate build, but a disproportionately large, almost bulbous buildup of extra flesh on her stomach. “Let me poke that, Tam proclaimed mischievously, sinking her finger into her compatriot’s belly. Then, raising her eyebrows, she commented, “Ooh. It’s quite firm, isn’t it?” Indeed, if a comparison had to be made, it could be said that Natalie’s midsection had a consistency more resemblance of bread dough or putty, than of Tam’s jello-like adipose. “Yep. I’m not really sure why—it used to be flabbier, but as I’ve kept putting on weight, it’s become more firm.” “It’s like a beer belly, or something.” Natalie shrugged, appreciating the flattery, but determined to seem nonchalant. Giggling like a school-girl over her expanding waistline simply wouldn’t fit with her self-image as an aloof, porky young socialite. Instead, she replied, “Beer and wine. I do drink a lot.” “I’m so jealous of your body. You’re so overfed looking!” “So are you!” Natalie insisted by way of consolation. “I’m certainly porky,” Tam acknowledged, running her hands over her fat rolls introspectively. Porky was perhaps a mild word for her physical condition; her doctor kept pointing out that one hundred and eighty odd pounds was unhealthy heavy for her short stature, at least according to those old BMI charts. Then again, though, by the standards of her social group, her size was about average. “But still, you carry the weight so well. You’re... almost dainty, I suppose.” Only by the standards of the 2040’s—a decade in which being overweight had become fashionable as a symbol of fun and hedonism—could Natalie’s build have been considered dainty. But there was no denying that her long, elegant limbs, coupled with a rotund stomach and lack of any unsightly muscle development, made her a striking figure. The leggy beauty had been scouted by a modelling agency while she was still at university, and although she was no longer in the business, her delicate features and unusually well-formed paunch had landed her a number of high-profile runway shows. In fact, those runway shows now meant that her children, still very young, already had impressive college funds to which they could look forward. “Shh, that’s sweet of you to say,” Natalie smiled in false modesty as she donned a pair of devil’s horns and stepped into the rest of her costume—a tailored, but not too revealing red dress with a tail extending out from the back. She’d thought about dressing up as gluttony, as in the deadly sin, but had failed to come up with a costume to adequately represent the concept, and so had settled for an old standby, instead. As she attempted to do up the zipper, however, she was reminded that the last time she wore the costume had been when she was a several pounds lighter than she currently was. She tried repeatedly to “suck-in”, but was unable to close the zipper entirely. Seeing her friend’s plight, Tam motioned for her to turn around. “Here, let me help. On three, two...” Natalie inhaled deeply, and the zipper finally began to slowly, but surely rise. An agonizing interval later, Tam proudly announced, “There. That’s done it.” “Whew! Thanks for the hand.” Natalie smiled in relief as she exhaled, allowing her stomach to bulge forward against the velvety fabric of the costume. The slightly stretched cloth pressed against her “lard”—as she and her husband, Daniel, sometimes referred to it—outlining her attractively deep belly button. Despite the two women’s success at getting the dress zipped, it still felt uncomfortably tight. Making it through the party was going to be... interesting. “No worries,” Tam replied, and began to don her own costume. It was a cartoonist flamboyant likeness of President Gomez, complete with a plastic face mask and extremely poof wig. In her usual, slightly vain style, however, she had largely cannibalized the outfit from her own wardrobe, so that the clothes would flatter her figure. Gomez’s usual, shapeless dress shirt, for instance, had been replaced with a blouse that was properly tailored to hug the fat rolls at her sides. By the time Tam had finished dressing, she was breathing somewhat heavily, her face slightly, but perceptibly flushed. Natalie sympathized. Neither woman had achieved their fashionable silhouettes by staying fit, after all. “Shall we?” Tam gestured to the bedroom door, just as the front doorbell began to ring. “Indeed we shall.” Natalie adjusted her dress to sit more comfortably over her gut, and stepped into a pair of high-heeled shoes. As long as she didn’t have to go anywhere in a hurry, the tightness of the outfit would not present a problem... she hoped. *** Glancing around her living room, Natalie was somewhat pleased to note to herself that she was undeniably the best-looking woman at the party. Being relatively wealthy, most of the couples in attendance were combinations of muscular men and perkily overfed wives, most of whom were spending the evening steadily grazing on the variously sugary desserts that had been placed strategically throughout the house. No-one else, though, came close to matching Natalie’s own beauty, at least in her somewhat biased opinion. It was a lucky thing though, she reflected, that her husband was always the one to supervise the party’s “trick-or-treat” segment for the younger children. Her too-tight dress made a long walk, already something her sedentary lifestyle encouraged her to avoid, a downright appalling prospect. She had the physique of a model, after all. Not a hiker. As if reading Natalie’s mind, Tam paused in her snacking long enough to lean in and comment, “I’m so glad your Daniel’s taking the kids out. Can you imagine? All that walking?” Natalie rolled her eyes upwards and nodded emphatically, “I’m just not built for that sort of thing! It would completely ruin my evening.” “Anyways, come help me in the kitchen. We need to make more snacks.” Tam looked as though the reason more snacks were needed was as least partly to do with how many she herself had been consuming, with her already chunky midriff looking more swollen than usual from her overindulgence. “Sure-a-thing,” Natalie acquiesced without complaint. She would take the opportunity to sneak some more sugary treats for herself. The extra calories wouldn't do her excessive cholesterol levels any favors, but that was her doctor's problem, not hers. Entering the kitchen, she saw that Tam had two more bowl-fulls of cookie dough, and an equally sizable amount of cupcake batter, at the ready for baking—more than enough for everyone at the party to eat their fill. As the two women set to work spooning the dough and batter onto baking pans and trays, a careful observer would have noticed their fat wobbling slightly in tandem with their movements. Their flabby upper arms and soft bosoms were seldom completely at rest as they worked to prepare the rich food. The fabric concealing Natalie’s grease and sugar-fed stomach was working overtime to keep up with the side-to-side, rotating nature of her work, and Tam’s love handles alternated pressing against first one side, then the other of her well-fitted shirt. When it came time to place the trays in the oven, first Tam and then Natalie grunted with the effort of bending down and then straightening up again in such quick succession, the combinations of their thick adipose deposits and underdeveloped muscles making the process far more tiring than it would have been for healthy women. “When is someone going to build an oven that normal people can actually use comfortably?” “It can’t come too soon. That’s for certain.” Regaining her breath and following Tam back into the living room, Natalie food herself glad that the trick-or-treating had already begun, offering time for the deserts to finish baking before a small army of excitable children returned to inhale them. Other than Daniel, the adults were all still present, of course, but in spite of their inclinations towards overindulgence, the women still didn’t go through food the way a group of hungry kids could. And of course, most of the husbands preferred to watch their waistlines; love handles on a man just didn’t have the same social cache as they did on a woman. To Natalie’s considerable distress, however, her thoughts were interrupted by the front door swinging abruptly open to reveal Daniel, scowling, limping, and with dirt smeared all the way up one side of his android costume. Behind him, twenty or so children could be seen milling around impatiently on the sidewalk. At the sight of her dishevelled husband, Natalie began hurrying forwards, before pausing and instead setting out for the linen closet. “I’ll get you a towel!” she called as she dissipated up the stairs. Returning—and now wishing that her trip to the linen closet hadn’t required her to climb to the top floor of the house—she held out the towel and inquired, “What happened?” “A teenager, drunk I think, was running past, and shoved me off the sidewalk and into somebody’s flower bed. I think I sprained my ankle. Unbelievable!” “Ah, sweetie,” Natalie tutted in sympathy. “Here. Take your shoes off. Go upstairs and change.” Glancing at the contingent of youthful party guests waiting in front of the house, she added as an afterthought, “Better be quick, though.” Daniel shook his head, “There really is something wrong with my ankle, Natalie. I need to sit down and ice it.” Natalie could have sworn she felt herself break out in a cold sweat at what she suspected he was implying. “The children will be disapointed,” she replied, silently praying that if she pretended not to know what he had in mind, he’d let the issue drop. “They’ve all been looking forward to this for weeks, we can’t just let them down.” Daniel raised his eyebrows at her significantly. “Daniel... I am not... Have Tam call Michael!” she stuttered in desperation. “He already said he couldn’t make it tonight. You’re going to have to go with them yourself.” And so the penny dropped. Natalie groaned inwardly, but forced a smile (perhaps a grimace) onto her face for the benefit of the party guests, most of whom were now observing the conversation. “Dear, you know I...” “You have to, Natalie. Look at them.” Daniel gestured over his shoulder, and several of the trick-or-treaters smiled hopefully at her. “Damn it at all,” Natalie cursed under her breath. Then, turning, she poked her index finger into the air, in Tam’s direction. “You’re coming with me!” *** “I can’t believe you roped me into this!” Tam inhaled deeply, her generous breasts rising and falling as her fatigued body sucked in air. The entourage of trick-or-treaters had just finished climbing a very long, very steep hill, and both women were wishing that they had tried harder to steer the children in some other, less physically strenuous direction. As it turned out, however, one did not so much supervise a large group of children as try frantically to keep pace with them. “No way was I doing this by myself,” Natalie replied, walking gingerly so as not to further tac her already sore feet. Her legs, she reflected somewhat worriedly, felt like they might give out at any moment, and her chest was starting to hurt, too. “And besides. There’s free candy.” Which was true. At the houses where they knew the homeowners, she and Tam had both been managing to snag a fair number of prepackaged sweets. Tam nodded, pacified for the moment, and bit into another mini-chocolate bar. “Mmmthat twoo.” What Natalie didn’t acknowledge, out of a desire to forestall any further grousing from her companion, was that even the food was scant reward for the out of shape socialites. A forced march through the neighborhood in high heals that were never meant for walking was neither’s idea of a pleasant evening. Particularly in light of the increasing damp air, and their ill-conceived failures to don jackets before setting out. Nor did it help, in Natalie’s case, that her too-tight dress was restricting her labored breathing. Waiting in front of yet another house as the “horde”—Tam’s good-natured, but put-upon, term for the trick-or-treaters—performed their ritual of threatening law-abiding citizens and then demanding candy, Natalie asked, “How much longer do you think we’ll have to wait before they’ll be ready to go home.” Tam was attempting to rest one hand on her waist, but it kept sinking into her rolls and then sliding downwards as the soft flesh gave way. Presumably in deference to the doomed nature of her undertaking, she instead placed it on her stomach, which the evening’s eating was now starting to force out over the waistband of her skirt. “I say we give them one more block, and then take them home.” “My thoughts exactly.” “Getting back home is going to be sweet relief.” “The first thing I’m doing once the party guests leave is running a hot bath,” Natalie agreed, as she set out again after the excited children. Her legs felt like jelly and she was developing a terrible side-stitch, but with the end of her ordeal in sight, she felt a sense of renewed resolve. “I still can’t believe...” Natalie’s voice trailed off as she noticed what looked to be a shoving match developing at the front of the horde. Grunting with both irritation and fatigue, she set off towards the commotion as quickly as her aching feet would carry her. “Stop! Enough!” she called as her steps accelerated to a fast trot, the motion causing her stomach to bounce slightly in the confines of her snug costume. Behind her, she could hear Tam in pursuit. Realizing that the squabbling children were not going to stop until they were forcibly separated, she poured on more speed, almost running, now. Natalie’s progress was abruptly interrupted, however, as a pint-sized skeleton had the misfortune to step out in front of her. She felt rather than saw the impact, as he made contact with her soft midsection. The collision knocked the wind out of her and sent her pitching forward, arms pinwheeling in a desperate attempt to regain her balance. One of her high heels snapped, and she found herself tumbling inexorably downwards. There was no way for her to keep from falling—that was a foregone conclusion—but she could at least prevent herself from landing squarely on top of the hapless child. Torquing her body sideways, she managed to land instead on the soft grass that bordered the roadway. But in a cruel twist of fate, the ground was moist with dew, and she found herself sliding inexorably downwards into what she realized with mounting horror was a drainage ditch. She hit the mud at the bottom of the ditch with a wet smack, and tipped backwards, her legs splaying out in front of her as her back sunk into the watery ground. “Son of a...” Natalie groaned in frustration as she tried repeatedly to pull her legs in under her and push herself into a standing position, failing each time. The smooth undersides of her fashionable shoes simply could not gain purchase on the slippery surface. Seeing Tam peering over the lip of the ditch, presumably having already broken up the impending altercation—at least, Natalie hoped it had been broken up—she ordered, “I’m stuck. Help me up.” Tam crouched down, extending both her arms, and grasped hands with her unfortunate friend. Nevertheless, despite Tam’s assistance, it still proved an arduous task to shift Natalie back into a standing position. Neither woman had much in the way of arm or leg strength, and both were already tired from their long walk. The result was that progress stalled when Natalie’s upper body was still at something approaching forty-five degrees away from vertical. “Pull harder. I’m slipping.” Natalie begged in frustration, as she felt her legs threatening to slide out from under her once again. With a last mighty heave, Tam hauled her upright, aided by a final, desperate enlistment of what little abdominal strength the former model could muster. To add yet another indignity to the series that she had already endured, as she leaned against the side of the ditch and kicked off her ruined shoes, Natalie felt a wave of cold air against the left side of her body. Looking down, she saw that her dress had split lengthwise down the hip-seam, her bulky paunch having finally won its battle to against the stitching. “Few too many cookies?” Tam inquired with mock innocence. Keeping her hand just out of the children’s line of sight, Natalie made a rude gesture and shot back playfully, “You’re still jealous of my body, and you know it. Now distract the kids so that I can climb out of this ditch without them noticing my little wardrobe malfunction, and let’s get back the party.” Then, as an afterthought, she added, “Those cupcakes must be done baking by now.” *** That night, reclining in a pair of pyjamas that had fit well five pounds ago, and grazing on the leftover candy, Natalie recounted her ordeal to her husband. “So much for that dress,” Daniel grumbled. “Aww, sweetie. You can afford plenty more!” She slapped his chest playfully, letting her hand linger on his well-defined muscles rather longer than necessary. “Mmm... Seems neither of us had much luck this evening. Heck of a coincidence, the both of us winding up covered in mud.” “It’s almost as if someone’s trying to send us a message...” “That candy is bad?” “No. Candy is good.” Natalie pursed her lips and gave her head a small shake. “Walking, though—that’s another issue.” Leaning in to nuzzle his wife’s neck, Daniel slipped his hand up under her shirt, massaging the sensitive lower portion of her belly before creeping slowly upwards. “And what about... other activities?” Breathing heavily in anticipation of what was to come, Natalie replied only, “Never a... bad idea.”
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