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farkas17 01-16-2016 01:17 PM

Sorority Swap, a massive-weight-gain eBook
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I used to publish FA and weight-gain fiction under the pen name Aaron Farkas at magazines like BUF. I've been out of the game for a while, but I now have an eBook at Amazon, "Sorority Swap," that chronicles just what happens when a sorority finds out how to reapportion weight from one girl to another:

I welcome any comments.


Matador 01-19-2016 10:17 AM

Re: Sorority Swap, a massive-weight-gain eBook

Originally Posted by farkas17 (Post 764986)
I used to publish FA and weight-gain fiction under the pen name Aaron Farkas at magazines like BUF. I've been out of the game for a while, but I now have an eBook at Amazon, "Sorority Swap," that chronicles just what happens when a sorority finds out how to reapportion weight from one girl to another:

I welcome any comments.


You had me at BUF!

farkas17 01-21-2016 03:16 AM

Re: Sorority Swap, a massive-weight-gain eBook
I have some old stories that I published there, if you're interested.

Matador 01-29-2016 05:02 AM

Re: Sorority Swap, a massive-weight-gain eBook

Originally Posted by farkas17 (Post 765199)
I have some old stories that I published there, if you're interested.

Definitely. You produced some very well done stories.

farkas17 01-29-2016 06:10 PM

Re: Sorority Swap, a massive-weight-gain eBook
Okay, here's an old BUF piece of mine from 1992:

A Sizable Difference
Aaron Farkas

"Oh, you're so big--look how big it's getting!" Ellen Farnsworth, plump housewife and mother of three, was breathing these words to her husband "Big Jim" during a bout of steamy sex. "Big" applied to both of them: Jim worked for a construction crew and had a 6'2" frame, a beer gut, and sexual equipment that Ellen sometimes called the pneumatic drill. Ellen, for her part, was quite hefty, with beefy arms, a big round bust, and a broad, cushy pelvis to absorb the shock of Jim's drill.
Jim was moving up and down, his belly sweeping over her mammoth mammaries, her fat motherly nipples erect and rubbing against his chest hair. Both of them were beginning to get a little crazy from the motion. It was at that point that Ellen cried out about how big Jim was getting, and it was then, ironically, that Big Jim began to grow smaller.
A peculiar hum was coming from Ellen's pelvis, and Jim felt it strongly as he plunged in. The vibration seemed to enter through his groin and spread throughout his entire body. From bouncing up and down, he began to tremble and felt as if he were collapsing in on himself. When he tried to rise, not an easy task on Ellen's ample body, she just moaned and held her grip. Soon his head was down to breast-level, his hirsute chest sliding into her lake of a belly. Big Jim was shrinking, his arms buried under her bulky buttocks, his nose fitting for a moment into her jelly-cup of a navel. He was down to the dimensions of a five-year-old, with Ellen's queenly thighs dwarfed his small shanks. Then he was infant size, most of him snug against her patch of blue-black pubic hair, floundering helplessly against her fat mound.
"What--mmphrr--is going on?" Trying to lever himself up from his wife's plump pit, Jim only sunk in deeper. It was dark and furry and soft, the yielding flesh almost smothering him. Ellen bent over, picked him up in her arms, and looked at him, almost dropping him in surprise.
"What have they done to you?" she cried. "You've turned into a little baby!" Her breasts quivered with indignation, her massive tit-flesh rippling as in a breeze from nowhere.
"You did this!" he roared, brandishing his now-tiny fist. At one time, it had been as big as a ham and would have made even the foreman at the building site step back. Now it just looked ridiculous, like a baby imitating Napoleon. "I'm going to lay into you something fierce when I find--when I see--"
"When you see what?" She peered down at him.
He stopped, unsure of what he would or could do, pressed against Ellen's gargantuan belly. "Put me down."
But there was an unpleasant gleam in Ellen's eyes, from the memory of certain incidents--Big Jim liked to throw his weight around on Saturdays, and sometimes Ellen got hurt. Now Jim was cuddly size, though still perfectly formed, down to his little tool. She was going to play with him. "Oooh, that's a nice baby!" She nuzzled him against one breast, heavy and pendulous against his little body. She centered his face on one luscious fat nipple, red in the center like a cherry candy. He bit it.
"Baaad boy, naughty!" And she did with him what she had done with three misbehaving infants as they grew up. She wedged him firmly between her huge thighs and spanked him with the flat of her hand, three times. Then she held him up for inspection. His beer belly made him look babyish and innocent, though his four o'clock shadow and body hair spoiled the image. He struggled in her grasp, ridiculously. He was strong for a baby--ten hours ago, he had been lifting 50-pound sacks of cement--but he was no match for a body ten times his size.
Ellen shook him. "Stop that!"
"So help me, Ellen, I swear I'm going to--damn it, I'll think of something!"
Annoyed again, Ellen eased him under her shaved armpit, in the area where her soft underarm met the oceanic swell of her left breast. She brought down her arm and clamped him into this pocket of flsh for about fifteen seconds. He came out pale and gasping.
"Don't--don't do that again. I can't breathe!"
"Would you like me to sit on you?"
"I could smother you completely against my breasts." She nudged him teasingly, threateningly, her smooth white breast twice as big as his head. Breasts like pale mountains, bush like a dark ravine, her belly and buttocks sticking out front and rear like hills for him to climb--unless they fell on top of him. His heavy wife could squash him without even thinking, he realized.
"No. Please."
"All right, I won't." She spoke to him kindly, the way she did when talking to the kids. She laid one plump finger across his chest. "But be good."
Big Jim was good.
When Ellen left for work on Monday, Big Jim was still pint-size, kept in the bedroom for fear the kids would see him. "Your father's on a business trip," she told Hank, Bill, and Cindy, who didn't think to ask what a construction worker was doing on a business trip. Instead, they trooped to school, leaving Jim sleeping on top of a pillow in the bedroom. He had gotten over his rage but was still annoyed.
At three in the afternoon, Cindy came home. Bill and Frank were at basketball practice. She was just pouring herself some milk to go with her cake when she heard sounds from her parents' bedroom and decided to investigate. She was careful: she opened the door a crack--and saw nothing. A little wider--and there, looking out the window from the sill he had crawled to, was a diapered version of her father. Ellen had found some old cloth diapers in the attic; they were the only clothes that would fit him. He was smoking a king-sized cigarette as if it were a colossal Cuban cigar, holding on to it with both hands.
"Daddy! Is that you?"
Jim looked around, almost falling off the window sill. Cindy was only thirteen but big for her size. Also, she ate a lot and her rear end stuck out taut against her jeans. What Jim saw was his own daughter advancing on him, a plump girl with cake crumbs around her lips.
"Stay back--I'm not your father!" He brandished his cigarette like a sword.
Cindy stared at him critically, disbelievingly. "You sure look like him." She extended a chubby hand.
"All right, I am your father, but keep away. I'm sick." He exhaled a baby-sized cloud of cigarette smoke, hitting Cindy in the face. She hated his smoking.
"Stop that! Don't smoke at me!"
"This is my house and I'll smoke when I please." Big Jim was no nicer to people when he was big than in his present state. He hadn't fully adjusted to the new conditions. Cindy reached out and grabbed the cigarette from his hands, advancing to where she formed a wall between him and the rest of the room. Her belly poked out above her jeans, the bulgy white flesh not quite meeting the bottom of her T-shirt. The flesh quivered mightily: she was remembering all the times her father had spanked her, or sent her to her room. Now he would come to her room.
"Hey!" Jim was suddenly picked up and carried across the hall to Cindy's room, where he was dropped onto a lacy pillow. He tried to scramble away, but Cindy pinned him down with one heavy thigh.
"We're going to play." Letting him up for a moment, she rummaged in her closet for her old doll's clothes and found what she wanted. Jim was almost out the door--"No, you don't!" She grabbed him by the legs and held him gently while she set out the clothes, a kind of button-down blouse and a tiny pleated skirt. "You're going to put on these clothes and we'll have a little party."
"What am I, some goddamn faggot? You got a prayer!" It was brave, or stupid of him, to snarl in his prone position. Cindy got up and slipped down her jeans, revealing tent-sized panties that barely covered her plump cheeks. They expanded to twice his size as she bent over. Then she sat down--whuff--on his whole body, girlflesh pressing down all around him, utterly pinning and practically suffocating him. Every time he inhaled, her soft plumpness would fill his mouth, his nose, his eyes. She let him up after half a minute. He lay pasty-faced on the floor, recovering.
"Wanna play now?" Her tone was silky sweet.
Jim took the toy skirt Cindy held out to him and began shucking off his diaper.
When Ellen came home, she sensed something was wrong. It was too quiet. She rushed to the bedroom and saw Jim was gone. "Jim, Jim, my God, where are you?"
She heard giggles from Cindy's room and ran across the hall, fearing the worst. Without knocking, she flung open the door.
Hank and Bill had come back at five o'clock and had played Army with a live toy soldier for a while. They played a little rough, so now Cindy was playing nurse. She had Jim pressed against her soft swelling breast buds, as she rocked him gently and tickled the soles of his feet. She had diapered him up again and even bandaged a little cut above his brow. At the moment that Ellen threw open the door, she had just planted a wet, sloppy kiss on his forehead. She playfully threatened to eat him.
"Cindy, what are you doing?" Ellen slapped Cindy, took her husband back, and gave her daughter a stern lecture on respect for her father. Cosseting Jim all the while, and patting him on the bottom, she carried him back to the bedroom, where the whole story of the afternoon came out. Jim stood like a little Caesar on the bed, blowing off steam.
"Ellen, you've raised those kids to be brats! Not enough discipline!"
"That's never been your problem, has it?" She sat down next to him angrily. Somehow, Jim had the knack of turning Ellen from a dutiful wife to a corrective mother in seconds. She reached out and held him at arm's length away, from where he could see the full heave of her vast pair. She was wearing a low-cut pink sweater today, and her two enormous globes jiggled noiselessly against each other. Ellen's breasts had sagged slightly after three childbirths, and there were a few stretchmarks on the undersides. But she had kept the bounce that most fat women have. As for Jim, he was staring at tits that for his size looked like the eighth wonder of the world, with a cleft that could engulf his whole body. She brought him closer to her deep cleavage and the delicate twin blue veins that ran down them. A vague womanly musk came from her flesh, and she pressed him closer, as if to bury him. Jim was half-excited, half-terrified .
"You're squeezing me!"
"Am I? Am I squeezing poor Jimmy, who loves to crush me flat every time we make love? It's time you got a little of that back." She pulled down the front of her sweater, revealing the strong white suspension of her bra. His feet dangled against her resilient midriff as she slid his arms under her elastic shoulder straps. Now he was spread-eagled against her frontage. His head was wedged in her chest, his arms pulled between her plump shaven armpits. It was like being crucified on a sofa.
Jim spoke into her massive bosom. "Mmph--no, I didn't--mmph--mean that. Please--"
But Ellen was busy. Carefully, so as not to disturb the positioning, she removed her sweater. Now he was more or less hanging from her boobs; when she shook her tits, he bounced with them. Then she slowly bent forward so that his feet met her lap. As she bent over, she quickly unzipped her skirt so that he was left teetering on the wide front of her panties. So far, so good. Then she slipped off her panties, her blue-black bush popping up like a flower in a flesh landscape. His feet could find no purchase on her yielding thighs, and he slid into her squashy dark vee. When he tried to wriggle around, it was wonderful for her. So he did a little dance.
"Aaah, aaaaah!" In the throes of ecstasy, with her husband's feet nudging her plump twat, she clutched his body hard.
Jim felt his wife's breasts move around him like two soft steam-rollers, wiping out the rest of the world in their creamy smoothness. His torso was engulfed in belly-flesh, as if he had died and gone to fat heaven. Everywhere his hands and mouth explored was silky soft plumpness. He sucked in deeply, so hard he almost blacked out.
When he saw light again, Ellen was nursing him against her fat right nipple, stroking his hair. "Maybe I shouldn't have done that"--she spread her wide thighs--"or at least I shouldn't do it too often. I might hurt you." The old maternal look was back in her eyes. That night, she cut up a hamburger into tiny pieces and spoon-fed him. She lectured to the children that their father was off-bounds, and that night he slept in the warmth of her nightgown, snuggled beside one mammoth sloping breast.
Ellen told Jim's boss that Jim had come down with a terrible flu, and that took care of things for a while. After five days, though, Jim was going stir-crazy and Ellen didn't know what to do. Apart from the fun they had together, he was often a burden, and she wanted her full-sized husband back.
It was the week after the shrinking, and the kids were out seeing a movie while Ellen stayed home to take care of Jim. One thing led to another, and pretty soon he was sliding down her huge belly, arriving with a gentle bump at the strong undergrowth of her bush. With almost super-baby strength, he began to twiddle his wife, plunging his fist in and out. When she saw what he was doing, she began to help him out, pressing him into her flesh.
Suddenly he started to tremble, and Ellen felt the vibration down below, too. She felt a growing pressure on her midriff. She looked up to see Jim now the size of a ten-year-old, his head straining toward her boobs. He got larger and pushed his way on top of her chest. The eagle tattoo on his biceps became its old size, and as the vibration died away she struggled under the bulk of Big Jim, who looked a bit confused himself.
But only for a moment. Feeling his regular size again, he took hold of Ellen's hefty buttocks and squeezed them with his hands, then sucked her nipples until they became like noses. Steering her from the rear, he penetrated deeply inside. For the first time in a week, the bed groaned doubly hard. When Ellen wrapped her outsize thighs around him, he came to a streaming climax. Afterwards, he lay on top, wearing a lopsided grin.
"I'm back, how do you like that?" He reached around her full waist and squeezed, making her lose her breath for a moment. "One week of being sat on and now--I call the shots." He tweaked her left nipple, which reddened as if offended.
Ellen, more shocked at this reversal than the first one, nodded dumbly. She had back what she wanted, and yet--if she could only figure out what had happened at the moment she started vibrating.... She had had her hands laced across his back, with her thighs parted like this.... A tingle began from below. Big Jim, still inside her, got scared. "Hey, cut that out!"
She shifted position, and the vibration quickly died away. Even though she was buried beneath him, she smiled upwards. "I'll stop," she promised, adding silently, "for now."
But from then on, about once a month, Ellen shrank him down to size and let him ride her galloping jelly-belly. And Big Jim found his own attitude changing. He would climb under her huge rear as she playfully buried him. He would emerge through the plump walls of her thighs, making her groan in pleasure. "Was it good for you, too, sweetheart?" she always asked sexily afterwards.
Jim leaned lazily against one immense flank, wide as a landscape. "I guess a wife should baby her husband every now and then," he would mumble contentedly, and snuggle in closer against her flesh.

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