#story contests

[cuntylestat]

this is my cocomelon

[sfsucw]

Winter Story Contest

Winter Story Contest—for fiction and nonfiction. $5,000 in awards.

$5,000 Narrative Prize—for new and emerging poets and writers

Deadline - 31st March 2023

SUBMISSIONS of original, previously unpublished manuscripts of all lengths, ranging from short short stories to complete book-length works for serialization. Narrative regularly publishes fiction, poetry, and nonfiction, including stories, novels, novel excerpts, novellas, personal essays, humor, sketches, memoirs, literary biographies, commentary, reportage, interviews, and features of interest to readers who take pleasure in storytelling and imaginative prose.

https://www.narrativemagazine.com/submit-your-work

[skittykittybean]

Woah hey! Did I ever tell anyone that I’m a writer? :3

Well, now I am! Just posted my first story onto VoyceMe for a competition they’re doing. Part of the judging criteria is view numbers. Every click counts!!

(Though reads are appreciated too! X3)

[smile-files]

mommy let you use her ipad, you were barely two

and it did all the things we designed it to do

now look at you, look at you!

(objectober 2024 day 10: internet)

[lilianade-comics]

My brain gaslit me into believing that Valerie got her outfit upgrade in D-Stabilized because she was the only remotely acceptable thing about that episode, so imagine my surprise upon watching Flirting With Disaster again and Technus, Lord of Drip and Shipping Gray Ghost, shoots her with the drip-upgrade beam and she (and everyone else standing around her) doesn't even question it.

[florshedworf]

this is my HOT SCALDING II TAKE ‼️‼️‼️ cobs is a great villain for the show that he is in for a show that promotes creativity, meaningful relationships and hope the fact that the big bad is a forward thinking, cold-hearted capitalist is actually perfect

[quietwingsinthesky]

extremely funny how my mother is constantly trying to get me to enter into local writing contests. i write pornography online for freaks, ma’am. i’m not qualified to write adventure stories.

[violent138]

I love the idea that Bruce takes the Batfam on hikes outside of Gotham, and puts up with the arguing over who goes in what car, packs everyone's favourite snacks, will race with the other car if enough passengers in his egg him on. Bruce generally stays ridicuously quiet while the kids jabber enough to alert everything living in the woods near them but will weigh in once the kids debate who's strong enough to wrestle a bear, chime in on unsolved hiker cases, build fires, and carry anyone that gets tired, all while sneaking awful pictures of them.

[kallietell]

Campus Pigs- Forced Fattening Day 4

“Hey. Hey, Lindsey. Wake up. You gotta wake up Linds, it's time for your morning shake.”

Lindsey groaned and, to her horror, burped the second she opened her eyes, the previous night’s stuffing one of her most intense so far and clearly still filling her stomach to the brim more than seven hours of sleep later. She groaned, her hands falling to her ever-stuffed middle. After her tequila sunrise fueled lunch stuffing with Karina yesterday, she’d slept for so long that her post-lunch snack had to be combined with her dinner again, meaning that the stuffing was the largest and most fattening of the three days Lindsey had been competing as a pig so far. 

Courtney had whipped up a meat sauce pasta, an easy meal because of the cheap, calorie-dense ingredients and simple preparation that left plenty of leftovers. The sauce was swimming in oil, the noodles were slick with butter, and the flavorful, herby chunks of meat crowding the sauce were a pork-based, fatty blend. Five portions served with a loaf and a half of garlic bread so heavily buttered it left Lindsey’s fingers shiny and an entire tray of Courtney’s double chocolate chip cookies dipped in a glass of heavy cream instead of milk. She’d been fighting to down each bite, her earlier gluttony working against her as she attempted to gorge herself beyond any reasonable limit. 

With each meal it was becoming more and more obvious that Abigail was completely right; Lindsey had a stomach of steel. While she was loosely aware that she could handle her liquor well, that she rarely got the stomach flu or food poisoning, it had never really occurred to Lindsey to dwell on the fact that she couldn't remember the last time she’d thrown up. To the best of her knowledge, she never had, even as a child. This meant that the boundary line of her stomach capacity could be stretched, manipulated, and more and more often, ignored entirely as Lindsey shoved down her massively oversized meals. There was no threat or danger of the reversal of all of her hard work because no matter how much she put away, Lindsey's nausea never became overwhelming. 

The previous night she’d sworn she’d reached her limit, swore that if she put away one more bite she would explode, but Abigail, Ellie, and Courtney simply encouraged and threatened Lindsey through the rest of the impossibly large feast, showering her with cooing praise when she finally lay half propped up in the kitchen chair with her face covered in spaghetti sauce and her bloated little gut prominently swollen beneath the stretchy spandex of her tightening tank top. 

She’d been late for bed that evening as she was unable to move for almost an hour, a shooting pain snaking up her middle whenever she attempted to bend at the waist to push herself to her feet. The meal had left her an overfed, gluttonous mess: panting for air in between unabashed burps, moaning and groaning incessantly as she whined about how much her stomach hurt, and rubbing her gut desperately for some kind of relief against the onslaught of food that had successfully been wielded against her. 

When she had finally digested enough to move, Courtney had helped her make the slow shuffle back to her bed, Lindsey holding her small, aching belly like she was nine months pregnant and thanking god for her new first-floor accommodations, finally recognizing Abigail's genius in realizing that whoever was chosen as pig would be first too full, then too fat to be anything less than miserable at the concept of scaling the sorority house’s staircase. Courtney had helped her change into her pajamas, tucked her into bed, and left, Lindsey drifting off into a food coma the second her head hit the pillow. She was jarringly yanked from that peaceful sleep, however, when Courtney returned 10 minutes later, Lindsey’s nightly shake in hand. Lindsey had almost cried when she was shaken awake with the half heavy-cream, half ice-cream concoction shoved into her face, and Courntey’s sheepish apologies and promises that she made it sweeter so it would be easier for Lindsey to get down did little to lessen her complaints or alleviate the pressure on her middle. 

That was the problem with an eating schedule as jam-packed as the one that Lindsey was now expected to adhere to. She was being forced to eat so much so quickly that deviations from the schedule were inevitable, but that just meant she had to make up for the lost calories at the next meal, making it take longer and leaving her even fuller. It was becoming a self-perpetuating cycle and Lindsey was quickly learning that the faster she downed her meals, snacks, and shakes, the less time she had to spend confined to the table in front of plates piled high with a fork in her hand. That mentality at the forefront of her mind the night before, Lindsey had downed the shake more quickly than she ever had and fallen asleep unable to stop her constant burps, her cheeks growing red from just how greedy and plump those uncontrollable burps made her sound. 

As she’d just discovered, sleep did little to ease her fullness, and the burping had begun again as soon as she was conscious. She frowned. After last night's very unwelcome weight gain shake interruption, the last voice she wanted to hear was Courtney’s and the last sight she wanted to see was a glass full of the creamy, decadent treat that Lindsey was beginning to abhor despite its pleasant taste. She turned her head towards the wall belligerently. 

“I'm still sleeping,” she grumbled, pulling her comforter back over her head as she turned. 

“Lindsey, c’mon,” Courtney pressed, poking the lump of covers and getting Lindsey in the shoulder. “You gotta drink this so you can get up and get ready, you have to finish your breakfast before you go to class.”

Lindsey froze, suddenly wide awake. The past three days had been such a frenzy of emotions and calories and force-feeding that she’d somehow completely forgotten that she was attending university for anything other than Phi Lambda. She would have to start going to her classes again, going to them as campus pig, and the thought made her heart sink. She couldn't exactly articulate her qualm with her return to the real world, but the past few days of solitude, of only seeing her sisters and stuffing herself silly for them whenever Abigail told her to, made the whole campus pigs situation seem removed from her actual life. 

In real life, she was Lindsey, a popular soccer player with good grades and an (almost) boyfriend. In this odd, unpleasant little sorority game she was playing, she was the campus pig, the unfortunate girl selected to blow herself up with fat in the hopes of outweighing all the other forced porkers. Doing things Lindsey would do as a campus pig was an interpolation of her two lives that made the whole thing far too real. Going to class and seeing people she’d always seen, sitting in the dining hall or the university's many campus cafes with meals triple the size of what she used to order, even greeting the same professors every day would serve as a horrifying reminder that she was getting fat in real life. That the campus pigs contest couldn't be separated or removed from who she was, but would instead soon become a part of who she was. It would become a part of her story, part of the way that other students and Greek houses identified her. Lindsey, the campus pig. Winner of the campus pigs contest, if all goes according to Abigail's ambitious but apparently not unreasonable expectations. 

She couldn't go to class. She couldn't face that reality yet, couldn't face the real world with her new, unwanted responsibilities. Yes, there were other girls on campus facing the same fate, girls with the same goals, but given that Phi Lambda had been the longstanding and undefeated champions of the contest for as long as they had, all eyes would be on her from the beginning, especially after her unexpected performance at the pizza eating contest. Everyone would be watching her make a glutton of herself, watching her snack all through class then get picked up immediately afterwards so she didn't have to expend a single unnecessary calorie. They’d be overanalyzing her clothes to see if they were fitting tighter, watching her belly to see if it grew while she ate, listening for her burps and giggling when she kept stuffing herself anyway. She’d be instantly infamous, and she simply couldn't deal with the thought. 

“I can’t,” she whispered, no true plan for circumventing her academic responsibilities in mind but forging ahead regardless. 

“Lindsey, you have to drink the shake,” Courtney began with a sigh. “The more often you drink it the easier it'll be to-,” she began to recite, but Lindsey cut her off by popping her head out of the nest of blankets and turning to face her. 

“No, no, not the shake. Class,” Lindsey corrected. “I can't go to class. Seriously, I can't. I- I don't feel well,” she fumbled, struggling to think on her feet. “And I. I…um. I think if I go maybe I'd get sick and that would ruin our progress,” she said, leaning on one of Abigail's oft-uttered phrases in the hopes that it would add a modicum of validity to her obviously fabricated story. 

“You wouldn't get sick,” Courtney protested lightly, pity for Lindsey evident in her tone. “You never do.”

“Yea, but I might this time,” Lindsey argued, her heart beginning to beat faster as panic at the thought of returning to class set in. “I really might. And, and I can eat more if I don't go to class. If I don't go I can just eat all day like I've been doing. And gaining as much weight as possible in the beginning is what's most important,” she rushed, parroting another one of Abigail's frequent talking points. “This is really the most important week, I really need to be eating non-stop.”

“Lindsey,” Courtney sighed, clearly conflicted. 

“I’ll drink two of the shakes!” Lindsey bargained. “I’ll drink two right now and still eat everything I'm supposed to today and I won't complain, I promise.”

“Lindsey, you have to go back to class eventually,” Courtney reasoned. “And the longer you wait the harder it’ll be. I mean-”

She stopped, pressing her lips together as if considering the best way to provide some unsatisfying information. 

“Everybody already knows you’re the pig, right?” Courtney finally forged ahead. 

Lindsey nodded.

“So, everybody knows you’re gonna be eating a lot and you’re gonna be looking bigger, it's just how the contest goes. Nobody is gonna judge you, and nobody thinks this is just something you randomly want to do. They’ll know you’re doing it for your sisters. They’ll be jealous of you honestly, cause they’ll know you’re gonna win. We always win. I’m telling you, being out in public is nowhere near as bad as you think.”

“Courtney, I just can't, I really can’t. Not today, I need one more day.”

Courtney pressed her lips together once more, a slightly guilty expression on her face. 

“Please,” Lindsey begged after the beat of silence, sure she’d nearly worn Courtney down. 

“And you’ll have two heavy cream shakes?” Courtney asked. “And you’ll drink them both without complaining, I won't have to make you?”

“Totally, I'll chug this one right now, give it to me,” Lindsey said, pushing herself into more of a sitting position and covering her mouth when the adjustment to her posture forced out another burp. 

“Ummm,” Courtney hummed, considering. “Fine. Here. I’ll go make your next one.”

“Oh my god, thank you Courtney, thank you,” Lindsey breathed, relief flooding her body as the house treasurer handed her the cold glass. “I’m gonna go tomorrow, I promise.”

Courtney sighed. 

“You better. I don't wanna get in trouble with Abigail. I think one more day is fine, just don’t… don’t tell her. I’ll be right back.”

Courtney flashed her a quick smile and was gone, Lindsey's heartbeat finally slowing as her problem became the next day's concern. 

Left alone with the shake for the first time, Lindsey looked down at it, raised it to her lips, and paused. Courtney had left to make a second shake and no one was here to watch Lindsey.

‘No one on guard duty’, she thought bitterly. 

With no one to verify that she was actually consuming the contents of her fattening daily treat, what was stopping her from running to her bathroom and flushing it before Courtney returned? She threw back the edge of her blanket, eager to enact her covert plan while she still had the opportunity, then paused, still gripping the glass. 

If Abigail found out about this, as illogical and far-fetched as that concern may be, Lindsey's punishment would be enormous. And on top of that, poor Courtney would also be punished despite the fact that the only reason that Lindsey had an opportunity to skip out on a required meal was because Courtney was being kind to her, was circumventing Abigail's rules for Lindsey's sake. Courtney receiving an out-of-house suspension for something like that would be egregiously unfair, but Lindsey wouldn't put it past Abigail. Her competitive nature knew no rest, could interpret no nuance, and in the pursuit of a win, Lindsey had seen Abigail grow illogical, turn on those who were supporting her. It just wouldn't be fair. 

Lindsey took a small, investigatory sniff of the shake, then found herself taking a sip before she realized what she was doing, her habit of chugging the shake to rid herself of the task as quickly as possible kicking in. She took another sip, sighed, then began to steadily chug the thick, sugary liquid, feeling her already full belly expand and grow tight as she chugged the fat-growing shake. She paused, took a gasp of air, then lifted the viscous drink back to her lips, feeling the sticky cream slide down her throat with each gulp and her head emptying of all other thoughts as she focused on her breathing to properly down her prescribed shake. 

Her hand dropped unconsciously to her belly as she continued her methodically swallows and she swore she felt it bloating and growing into her open palm, her middle protruding further and further as the cream she was pouring down her throat met with all the food she’d put away the day before, making her inflate like a greedy little ballon. 

She took another break for air, groaning as she did so, and continued to press her open palm into her bloated little ball of a gut, moaning with each touch and marveling at just how hard and round her stomach got so quickly, how she was always so perpetually full that a few minutes of stuffing her face left her middle as hard as a rock. Sucking in with a belly that full was painful, which meant that for the last three days, Lindsey hadn't engaged her ab muscles at all and let her bloat bulge out unencumbered, making her growing gut appear even larger and more visible than it already was. 

As she rubbed her gut, continuing to groan, she couldn't believe that the body she was touching was really hers. That she was allowing this to be done to her. That she was doing it to herself. She frowned, upended the glass above her mouth, and downed the rest of the shake in a few quick gulps, letting out two loud, long burps and wiping white drips of excess cream from the corners of her mouth......

*I hope you enjoyed the chapter snippet! For the full 21,000+ word story you can check out my Patreon! I have a ton of tier options for whatever you may be looking for, and you can find weight gain stories, weight gain series, weight gain audios, weight gain POVs, and even personalized weight gain commission. Thanks so much for reading:)*

patreon.com/KallieTell

[wizardbait]

lying in bed awake thinking about the claymation video that milchick shows the mdr team about the microdat uprising. like it’s the fact that the characters and the (fictional) violence they enact is being represented in a visual medium typically used for children’s cartoons, which speaks to lumon’s infantilizing tone towards innies as a means of encouraging their compliance while denying their autonomy… it’s the claymation puppets as mirrors of the mdr team, who are also being manipulated into performing the leading role in lumon’s narrative…it’s the depiction of the lumon building as an anthropomorphic cartoon character, which means that the innies are once again being denied any access to information about the outside world and must depend on lumon’s representation of reality

[marlynnofmany]

Note for someone to turn into a story: one way to give the middle generation/s on a generation ship a purpose in life, aside from "raise the children whose children will eventually land on the colony world," could be as creators of art and story. Music too.

Just imagine: you have your whole life ahead of you with all the training and materials of this vast spaceship at your disposal, and all of society plans to revere the creative masterpieces you and your peers come up with.

No pressure.

But yes possibility.

[leafie-draws]

touched up this old Cramorant art a bit because I still like it a lot lol

[weirdchristmas]

Americans think Christmas ends on Dec 26th. Well, I'm keeping the spirit alive! My procrastination was purposeful! Trust me! (And this may not be all there is to come from me this year, if the brain chemistry and whims of fortune remain stable...)

[scarapanna]

[WIP] Hey chat guess who's cooking again🔥🔥🔥/silly

It looks very unfinished but trust the process

[see-arcane]

DRACULA IS BACKULA BABEYYY

[mellowwillowy]

Yan! Best Friend x GN! Reader

There was a notorious bully in your class, a beautiful self-entitled nepo bitch who only knew how to smoke and pissed her off. You on the other hand were far from the luxuries your classmates lived in, just someone trying to survive with the high school scholarship you received from the government.

You had always wondered why she didn't target you who were obviously a soft prey instead of one of the many rich girls. You wondered for a year until you finally realized the answer.

It was when you almost got yourself into trouble with her. She threatened you that you would be her next victim and you boldly declared that she wouldn't even though you weren't completely certain of your reasoning.

That you understood her.

"You are just envious of them. Of how lonely you are and how loved they are instead."

In short, the bully, Im Seonmi, was just a petty child who didn't want to see other kids happy from what she couldn't have. The warmth from their parents, the acknowledgment they received, and the support that they needed.

It was almost just as simple as that, that you noticed how this bully was actually smart and a lonely bitch, made her fall for you. She knew what she was getting herself into and paid no mind to what it might lead to. Even if she couldn't put the feelings she felt in a word, she still craved for you. To have you.

The friendship between you two bloomed and now she was ready to squeeze her way into your school life, uni life, career life, and even your marriage life. You would not notice how she had steered your life for forty years until it was too late.