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The 7 Sins of Weight Gain

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Guest Sulla67

The Seven Sins of Weight Gain

Once, in a standard fantasy universe far away, there was an evil overlord opposed by a collection of six heroes. Pretty standard stuff, or if you prefer, boring shit that’s been done a billion times. This time though everyone involved is an impossibly gorgeous woman who finds herself growing uncontrollably fat due to their actions.

Pt 1: Pride: In which an Evil Overlady is undone by her own overconfidence. It may seem odd that a love of one’s own appearance and a fascination with perfection can cause weight gain, but pride always goes before the fall.

Our story starts with evil.

In fact, it starts with a very particular evil named Esmerelda de Gross.

Esmeralda had started life as a plain girl, an unassuming peasant with a doughy, shapeless body living in a mudhole of a rural village. She would have gotten married, had children and grown fat and old if not for a lucky (or for everyone else) unlucky event, where the plain girl failed to win the attention of the most handsome boy in the village. Now, many people would be saddened or upset by this, a few would be mad, but Esmeralda’s emotion was something else entirely.

How dare someone else be considered better looking than her? How dare her body betray her with its common face, dull brown eyes, stringy brown hair, stumpy legs and a shapeless torso, which at 18 was already becoming flabby? She was Esmerelda and she was the best, thus she deserved the best everything!

The enraged girl fled into the woods towards an ancient ruin rumored to be filled with evil creatures and hostile artifacts. 999 out of a thousand girls would have gotten lost, turned around, gotten eaten or had their souls devoured, but Esmeralda was damnably determined. Somehow she evaded the skeletons and spiders guarding the abandoned tower and found a cache of magical scrolls and items deep inside the ruin. With these she entered into a pact with dark powers, greater demons of the void that afflicted the world with its mortal sins. Esmeralda would become their champion, embodying each and all of the sins and thus gain domination over all the world for evil.

When Esmerelda returned to her home village at the head of a monstrous army, she was much changed. Her stringy brown hair had become a buoyant, lustrous raven mane that hung down to her ankles like a sheet of black silk. Pimply, ruddy skin had become a perfect alabaster, just as her piggy brown eyes had become huge, purple orbs that could hold a man’s gaze for weeks. Thick, stumpy legs had become long and shapely: her thighs were lean and firm, while her calves were slender and taut. A farm girl’s doughy ass had become round and taut, perfectly shaped and smooth cheeks on full display between a silken thong.

Arms thick from farm labor and over hardy food had become slender and graceful, with bangles, torcs and bracelets worth more than the village gracing their supple length. A modest bust had grown into two big, perky, bouncy tatas that emerged from above her flat belly like two perfectly roundmountains erupting from the plains, capped with small pinky nipples. Now her short torso was flat, long and hard, bereft of its once increasingly corpulent gut and growing love handles, replacing them with a firm set of girl abs and hard obliques that formed a perfect hour glass with her massive chest and lean hips.

In all, Esmeralda had added nearly eight inches in height and lost sixty pounds in the space of a day when she emerged unrecognizable from the haunted woods. The poor folk of her pathetic village never had a clue as to who it was that destroyed them with powerful magic. Esmeralda didn’t care particularly though, that they stared at the glory of her form even as she destroyed them was enough.

What started in that nameless village became a centuries long campaign of conquest, destruction and terror as Esmeralda spread her evil across the world. For five hundred years she raised armies of skeletons, gathered tribes of orcs and conquered kingdom after kingdom, turning all of the east into her dark abode. In her dark domain she performed the long, resource intense rituals needed to gather ever more of the deadly sins into herself. 

Esmeralda never aged a day during these long years, but she grew ever more evil. She gained the essence of wroth by destroying a dwarf citadel that had stood unconquered for ten thousand years. Lust was mastered by  her gorgeous form striding nude into the lair of a Dark Elf Coven and fucking everyone of the near immortal mages into exhausted slavery. Envy came from turning a thousand young brides into aged hags and Greed from invading the great city of Dalvale and taking everything of value within it.

Now this is where a normal evil overlord would start their downfall. The Princess of Dalvale swore to stop Esmeralda, becoming a paladin and gathering a fellowship of other female warriors to fight alongside her. But Esmeralda’s downfall came from within, from her insatiable pride.

At the peak of the dark tower she had built as her headquarters, Esmeralda prepared for the final two sins: Sloth and Gluttony. These rituals were easy, requiring the burning of only a few sticks of incense and the eating of an apple. The Witch-Queen was confident in her power, disdaining the need for restraint in taking two mortal sins within herself.  After she had embodied lust and gluttony, all she needed was one more ritual to give her power over all the world.

‘I am Esmeralda, queen of all I survey,’ she boasted to the coven of dark elf witches that served as her inner circle, ‘no sin can undo me, there is nothing I cannot master!’

All of the drow elves were stunningly beautiful. Their black skinned limbs were long, smooth and supple, their hips wide with firm asses and large perky tits. Pink doe eyes were framed with long silver hair on faces with upturned noses and pillowy, kissable lips. Since obtaining the sin of lust Esmeralda had found her preferences turn towards women just as her need for sex was magnified. Each of the twenty four elves in the coven had an assigned hour to wrap their lithe limbs around Esmeralda’s firm body and with quick hands twist her tight nipples, to put those pillowy lips onto her wet pussy, to twist and tongue and suck until the Witch Queen’s orgasm came and shook the tower to its foundations. Esmeralda allowed them no clothes bar shimmery silken gowns to show off their lean figures and high heels to perk up their round rears.

‘But my queen…’ the most senior elf witch began, ‘no one has ever taken two sins inside themselves at once…’

‘No one was ever me before!’ Esmeralda spat, pointing one perfectly manicured nail at the dark elf.

Esmeralda’s long mane of hair flew back as if before a hurricane, her perky breasts bouncing crazily as she stood up from her obsidian throne onto her silver high heels, wearing nothing beyond her jewelry. The skinny drow arose in the air, her already miniscule clothing shredding away to reveal a curvaceous body with jet black skin, firm abs, long legs and bountiful breasts that gave even the witch queen a run for her money. A spike of envy shot through Esmeralda and with a twitch of her finger the dark elf’s heavy bust jiggled and shrank to nothing, going from bodacious to flat in an instant. With greed twisting through her as well, Esmeralda willed the vanished cup sizes to appear on her own already heaving bosom. At a breath the Witch-Queen’s rack went from an already large D to a ridiculous G that still jiggled high without a trace of sag.

‘Now, the ritual!’ Esmeralda spat, the other dark elves fleeing lest her wrath turn upon them as well.

The ritual was easy, a few chants, the burning of incense and the eating of a perfectly ripe red apple.  Esmeralda stood before her throne, a picture of sexual perfection beyond common human potential, an impossible mix of slim and curvaceous. She felt the two new sins writhing within her, a familiar feeling after having taken in five others. But then there came another feeling…

A loud animalistic growl sounded throughout the throne room, louder than a dragon guarding its gold. The Witch-Queen felt a strange sensation in her stomach, a deep pain worse than a dagger’s bite. She spread her massive bust apart, staring down past the deep valley of cleavage to her pristine abs. As the growl sounded again, she saw her hard belly ripple, its muscles spasming from what she realized was impossible hunger.

‘My queen,’ the now flat chested witch elf said cautiously as she approached the throne and the nude woman before it, ‘all is now ready for the final ritual. If you come with me, all power in the world can now be yours.’

‘Urgghhh,’ the queen managed, pain radiating from her belly, she fell backwards into her throne, tits jiggling madly as she landed, ‘not now…’

‘But my queen, we have word that the Princess of Dalvale is gathering a fellowship against us. We must act with haste.’

‘No…,’ Esmeralda muttered, ‘food. Right now, food!’

‘But my queen…’

‘FOOD! CAKE! PIE! ICE CREAM! CHOCOLATE!!!’ snapped Esmeralda, flicking her finger at the witch elf, swarms of cellulite smearing their way across the dark elf’s thighs.

Food was brought to her by the other twenty three dark elves, as their leader ran out of the room on cheese coated thighs, weeping on the sudden loss of her looks. The queen usually ate very little, and her dark elf mages had very strict restrictions for their figures, but fear of breast reduction made them summon up towering cakes, steaming pies and endless platters of candies. The slender mages hauled the heavy platters as quick as they could, each skinny elf bearing their own weight in fatty food before their queen.

And Esmeralda ate it.

She eschewed silverware or napkins, digging her slim fingers into the pastries and shoveling them two fisted into her mouth. Icing dropped onto her bouncing boobs, spatters of melting cream fell across her thighs, chocolate was smeared across her mouth and her sticky syrup fell onto her stomach, which bulged outwards under the pressure of a hundred meals. For nearly three hours the witch queen gorged herself, pausing only slightly to point with one hand at a witch elf, beckoning the drow woman to suck her vagina while another fondled her nipples. The bottom drow was truly unlucky that day, as her mistress’ immense food baby gave her not an inch of extra room for air and she arose woosy and sore jawed after half an hour.

Only when she had climaxed did Esmeralda stop eating, slumping backwards onto her obsidian throne with an exhausted sigh. She was filthy, covered in the calorie laden detritus of her binge and her always flat belly bulged outwards as if she were nine months pregnant with triplets. Stretched to the breaking point, the food stuffed dome rested heavily on her thighs, soft grumbles of digestion sounding from it. Esmeralda sighed contentedly, one hand went towards her still tingling pussy, but unable to reach around the food filled dome she settled to instead stroke her engorged abdomen while idly playing with her nipples.

A witch elf approached, trembling lest her queen smite her for the interruption.

‘Tomorrow morning,’ Esmeralda said, ‘at the crack of dawn we’ll do the ritual. As for right now? Sponge me off and then carry me to bed.’

‘Carry you my queen?’ one elf witch asked hesitantly.

‘I’ve had an exhausting day,’ Esmeralda replied, ‘now, unless you want those breasts dragging on the floor grab a sponge and a cart.’

Esmeralda didn’t get up at dawn. Indeed the queen slept until noon,  giving the first drow to knock on her door at dawn a set of 75 inch, cellulite laden hips for her trouble. Ten of the still slender attendants were summoned, five to pleasure the queen with finger and tongue, the other half to haul a never ending stream of doughnuts and milkshakes to the queen’s mouth. 

‘The ritual will be enacted after my bath,’ the queen declared, as her bulging body was hauled to the deep heated pool for a massage and another mild orgy, ‘and maybe a small snack.’

Day after day slipped by, a continuing stream of procrastinations emanating from the queen’s mouth. These excuses and more demands for food, fondling or hauling were the only things that left the queen’s lips anymore, her armies growing leaderless for lack of direction. But every hour more and more food was being shoveled in, to an ever more obvious effect.

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A soft layer of fat slowly spread across Esmeralda’s perfectly lean body. Within a week of taking in Sloth and Gluttony she had lost all trace of muscle tone and when her soft flesh began to pinch the sides of her thongs and form creases against her bracelets and torcs. A small collection of adipose gathered under her sharp chin, just as her cheekbones began to vanish.

At two weeks, Esmeralda’s already massive Gs expanded outwards into truly ridiculous Hs. Her pink areolas began to be stretched out by the rapidly expanding fat, instead of pointing up the sensitive nipples began to aim downwards, just as her breasts began to sag. Softening obliques made the transition into baby love handles and whenever her belly wasn’t stretched out by food, it was evident that a small pooch had grown over her abs.

Long lean legs were growing softer, losing their shape and tone. The queen’s thigh gap began to vanish as expanding legs crept towards one another and the difference between firm calf and trim ankle subsided as cankles began to form. The wide gap between the queen’s shapely hips and the throne’s armrest narrowed as fat found a ready resting place on her pelvis and the once firm roundness of her ass began to sag and spread out.  Her coven of courtesans and mages found that Esmeralda’s once rock hard body was now soft to the touch,  her body jiggling all over at the slightest movement.

None of her courtesans was dumb enough to mention the queen’s softening shape to her face. Nor would Esmeralda admit that she was gaining weight, eating like a pig or even putting off her ritual. She was Esmeralda, utterly perfect in everyway. Her mighty will power wouldn’t let her stuff herself and even if she chose to do so it was impossible that fat would dare accumulate on her perfect frame. And she wasn’t putting off her ritual, just taking a well earned strategic rest before its completion. Thus, even though a flick of a finger could have seen her back to her lithe self, the queen kept eating and growing.

By the time the Paladin Princess of Dalvale had defeated the Witch-Queens’ field army at the siege of Birvith, Esmeralda looked remarkably plump. Her cheeks wobbled and jiggled in time with her soft double chin (which was starting to form another division). Her breasts were beginning to lose their fight with gravity, even as ever more fat was packed into them. Her once high nipples were now pointing firmly downwards, angry red stretchmarks stood out on the ivory skin of her chest and the bottom of her cleavage now rested on her overfilled belly.

That stomach was now a soft dome of fat whether or not the queen was full. When standing it was a round bulge, when sitting it was a multitude of rolls, but in either case it was ten inches further about than it had been a few months ago. Two saggy lovehandles flanked her gut like sleeping sentinels, the toneless bags of fat hanging over the witch-queen’s thong at all times, which was now only visible in the front.

Cellulite was spackled across her ballooning buttocks and thunder thighs, which had grown thick and meaty enough that Esmeralda had to lay down to let an attendant suck her clitoris. On the rare times the queen walked, her thighs slapped together audibly with each step and after a few yards she’d need ointment applied to deal with the chaffing. Her arms were growing heavy, with fat colonies of adipose coating her sagging muscles, to the point that the incredibly lazy queen demanded hand feeding at all times from her cadre of drow. Her nimble fingers were now thick and clumsy, enough fat deposited on them to make most of her jewelry impossible to put on.

The drow themselves were plumping up unwillingly. None of them were dumb enough to steal a morsel from the queen, but although she wouldn’t admit to gaining an ounce to even herself Esmeralda would not be alone in her expansion and went about finding the smallest penalties to bulk up the dark elves. Gone were their flat bellies, firm hips and supple limbs, replaced by apron guts, shelf like asses, thunder thighs and bingo wings. Their flat chested senior had seen her tits restored, but instead of pert Ds they were now monumental Is that sagged to her knees.

Six months after she conquered Dalevale with a flick of her hand had seen the Witch-Queen greatly changed. She was honestly unrecognizable save for her still silken hair, her body swollen to six times her normal size and still demanding constant feeding. Esmeralda sat her throne in the buff, even the miniscule clothing she once wore now far too constrictive for her runaway flab. Her throne likewise had been greatly changed, enslaved masons having had to twice hew away the stone arm rests and install wider replacements after Esmeralda’s immense hips had been stuck.

The Witch-Queen’s porcelain skin was marred by dozens of stretch marks, each a violent crimson stain on her overstretched epidermis, and the eruption of a half score of pimples across her face was testament to the ocean of chocolate she had devoured in half a year’s time. Cellulite had completely coated the immensity of her ass, the pillar like roundness of her flabby thighs and even had crept up along her lower gut to the cavernous hole of her belly button. Her face was red and sweaty, puffy from the effort of constant eating, and her purple eyes seemed smaller now that her cheeks had blown up around them.

No one would ever imagine that this face had once frozen entire armies in their tracks with thoughts of lust. Her delicate cheekbones were buried deep under corpulent cheeks that sagged down under their own weight to meet the five chins hanging beneath her undefined jaw. Chocolate stains covered her face from dawn to dusk, only temporarily disappearing during Esmeralda’s long baths.

Immense breasts had lost all pretense of roundness, hanging heavy and loose from her chest. A dark elf attendant was now constantly servicing each nipple, which were stretched to the size of saucers anymore. Not a trace of perkiness or firmness remained within her saggy chest, which was only as high as it was due to being able to rest on the immensity of her gut.

Esmeralda’s stomach defied boundries anymore, the once waspish waist undergoing uncontrolled expansion. Fat filled love handles surged out so far that the witch-queen’s thick arms couldn’t hang by her sides anymore.  Her gut formed half a dozen rolls when she sat or had the slightest angle at her back, when Esmeralda stood (which was rare anymore) it sagged down to her knees like a thick apron of lard. The woman’s abs had once stood out like crenulations from a castle wall on her concave belly, but now you’d need to go through several feet of adipose just to find a hint of their atrophied remnants.

Long, slender and perfectly shapely legs had once been Esmeralda’s pride and joy, but now they were such bloated remnants they bordered on parody. The smooth skin of her thighs were now a cellulite moonscape, so thick and wobbly that her attendants could no longer reach enough to lick her wet pussy. It was easy to say that the impossibly girthy limbs were each rounder about than her shapely waist had once been and their tree trunk bulk showed no signs of stopping, with fat deposits covering her knees after running out of room on her cankles.

Esmeralda’s ass had been tight and pert, a perfectly round rear that made walking behind her near impossible. Months of sin fueled gorging had seen each cheek quintuple in size, sagging downwards onto her equally fat thighs. So thick and massive was her ridiculously huge booty, that Esmeralda was several inches taller when sitting. Its horizontal growth was just as impressive, hips and gut combining into one wide measurement that was nearly size feet across.

Whenever Esmeralda wasn’t eating she was napping, lapsing in and out of food commas before demanding more caloric bombs. She never asked for updates on her empire anymore and hadn’t thought of the long delayed final ritual in months, instead scarfing down entire sticks of butter. Few thighs were noticeable to her anymore, such as half of her drow attendants fleeing an obviously sinking ship or the ominous creaks sounding throughout the top half of her tower as her enlarged throne combined with her ever increasing mass to put the structure above its recommended size.

The few dark elves who remained were ballooned parodies, not one of them under three hundred pounds. Instead of being athletic and elegant, the bloated sorceresses were slow and clumsy, waddling at barely a mile per hour with their thunder thighs slapping together and resting the heavy burden of their mistresses constant stream of treats on top of their massive paunches. Esmeralda never let up on her demands for sexual servicing, but pure bulk meant that the drow women were losing their skills. Formerly acrobatic sex orgies had transformed into tag team affairs, with the elf girls constantly shifting duties as their flabby arms grew tired stroking or pinching. When Esmeralda’s orgasm’s came, they were literally tower shaking and at least one throne had been literally split in half by them. Each sexual service left the dark elves sweating buckets and had grown so frequent none had gotten sleep in days.

Thus when word came that the Princess of Dalevale had been seen near the tower, the remaining tubby drow grabbed what their weak arms could carry and bolted at a slow walk for their homeland. The adventuring party found the tower curiously undefended, as most of the Witch-Queens’ armies had deserted. So, it was that Selena the thief, Keira the Mage, Sophia the Barbarian, Kalyn the Ranger, Isabelle the Cleric and the princess turned Paladin Diana entered the Witch-Queen’s throne room to find her alone.

‘Ahaha!’ Esmeralda puffed heavily from her thrown, in between shoving doughnuts into her face and half way into a food coma, ‘I see you’ve… *urgghhh*… stepped right…*puff*… right into my trap!’

None of the adventuring party was capable of moving, not from any spell but from the pure shock at seeing such a mountain of lard in the place of the expected lithe dark queen. Somehow the initiative went to the impossibly out of shape Esmeralda who tried to stand, attempting to haul up her monumental bulk with her atrophied muscles. When her legs failed to move her an inch, she tried pulling with her arms, the immense fat hanging off her triceps wobbly madly. That failing as well, for not only were her atrophied muscles were weak as a kitten and her immense bulk was larger than some horses, but her fat ass was thoroughly wedged in the chair.

‘One…puff…urgh…second,’ she panted, pushing magic into levitating herself.

Typically the witch queen floated into battle several feet above the air with a summoned windstorm blowing her hair about, but now it took every ounce of magical power just to push her lardy coated body up. Esmeralda was barely an inch above the ground and had to put more magical power into staying there then she usually would to destroy an army. Squinting and sweating with effort, she selected a spell to incinerate these interlopers. It was a powerful fire ball, but one pitiful to one of her might.

However, Esmeralda had not considered just how much of her power was going into keeping her rotundity in the air. Taking away just a fraction of it was more than enough to destabilize her entirely and her immense cheeks slammed down onto her throne with the force of a meteor hitting the earth. An almighty ripple jiggled its way through her multitude of rolls and then a huge crack sounded as the floor about her throne gave way, falling down, down and down throughout her hollow tower.

Esmeralda perished that day, too prideful to have admitted she had grown so immense as to be a structural hazard. Each of the sins she had gathered escaped, swirling up to take hold in one of the adventurers who stood incredulous about the gaping chasm. Gluttony was the last sin to escape, so it took the simple expedient of dividing itself between the six women, tuning each of the sins they had unknowingly taken on into an aspect of itself.

None of the adventuresses realized what had just happened, but before the year was up each of them would be dealing with the consequences. None of them would be as final as those suffered by Esmeralda, but each would be just as fattening…

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As per the usual, absolutely phenomenal. You really seem to prefer the medieval / fantasy stories don't you  ;). Hopefully you get around to finishing up your other great stories!

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