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The world of Alicia Palmer was one filled with sugar and sprinkles, flour and frosting. At twenty-five, she had carved out a niche for herself as a quality control technician at Dough Delights, the most renowned doughnut factory in the city. It was a job that blended her love for sweets and her penchant for precision. Each day, she found joy in ensuring that the machines ran smoothly, producing the perfect ring of baked goodness for their loyal customers. But on one peculiar Thursday, the factory hummed with an unusual energy. The rhythmic whir of the machinery had taken on an almost playful tone. As Alicia monitored the conveyor belts and filling machines, she couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was off. A strange noise emanated from the back of the room—a sort of grinding followed by a high-pitched whine. She turned to investigate. As Alicia approached the doughtnut filling machine, the sound grew louder, and suddenly, the floor beneath her shifted. To her shock, a peculiar chair rose from the ground, gleaming under the factory’s harsh fluorescent lights. This was no ordinary chair; it had arm restraints on each side, reminiscent of a scene from a sci-fi movie. Before she could process what was happening, robotic arms extended from the back of the doughnut filling machine. Panic surged through her as they reached out, gripping her arms and pulling her toward the chair. “No! Wait. What are you doing?” she shouted, but the noise of the factory drowned out her cries. Before she knew it, she was seated in the chair, the restraints locking around her wrists, securing her firmly in place. Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled for control, but the machine seemed to have other plans. Then, with a convincing whir, the robotic arms grabbed a tube. One end was positioned over her mouth, while the other connected seamlessly to the filling machine. “No! This can’t be happening!” she exclaimed, but it was too late. A strap tightened around the back of her head, ensuring she couldn't escape. As the machine whirred to life, warm filling surged through the tube and into her mouth. The sweet taste of raspberry jam flooded her senses, and despite the absurdity of her situation, she felt an odd rush of pleasure. Minutes ticked by, and the sensation of fullness crept in. She watched in disbelief as her body reacted to the onslaught of filling. Her thighs pressed against the chair's arms, her soft belly expanding gradually. “I… I’m getting fatter,” she mumbled around the filling. A mix of finish and fear coursed through her as she noticed her body taking on a new shape, her dress snug against her burgeoning figure. The numbers on the scale in the corner of the room skyrocketed in her mind: 190 pounds. With each passing hour, the machine pumped more and more filling into her. The last remnants of reason dwindled as another realization hit her—she was growing. Her body could not contain the rapid inflation; she stared in awe and fear at the sight of her reflection in the glass panel that separated her from the machinery. Her tights began to slide down, struggling to hold her expanding shape. She could see her purple thong peeking out, her thighs forming love handles that invited touch. “I’m so fat! I love it!” she moaned, sinking into an unexpected pleasure as the outrageous transformation continued. The chair had adjusted, accommodating her increasing weight. "Keep going, don’t stop now!" The machine, as if it understood her, complied without hesitation. Hours slipped away into the dreamlike haze. When Alicia reached 800 pounds, the chair had morphed to support not just her weight but her new identity. Her belly hung low, the faux leather splitting under the strain yet seemingly refusing to tear. Her love for the sugary concoction filled her not just physically but emotionally, awakening desires she had never dared to explore. With each hiccup and moan, she surrendered to the pleasure, the machine embracing what she had never accepted in herself. Through a veil of confusion and indulgence, Alicia realized this bizarre predicament had given her the chance to redefine herself. In a factory where doughnuts were made, she had become something more—a vision of indulgence, a sweet embodiment of the very treats she had once only monitored. As the factory continued its rhythm, Alicia giggled, her laughter echoing off the walls filled with flour and frosted dreams. For the first time, she understood. She was more than a worker; she was living the sweet dream, finding freedom within the confines of that extraordinary chair.