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Weight Gain Roleplay rules


Batman76

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5 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

(at last, I have a valid excuse to use my cryptic Marine jargon )

The Sea Devils:  three Devil-Blooded sister (Abara, Balla and Cula) adventurers who previously mutually captained a pirate ship until it sank. Rebranding themselves as land adventurers, they sell their swords and spells for coin and adventure. Abara (21) is a cocky but sweet massively muscled, black haired barbarian brawler who stands nearly nearly seven feet tall, taut abs rippling in a chain mail bikini, she fights with bladed gauntlets. Balla (25) is a sly, sarcastic, ultra skinny rogue with red hair and no fat on her body besides a stupendous, magically enhanced bust purchased with the profits of her last expedition, the DDs shown off by a taut combat corset. Lastly, Cula (30) is a cleric of the Goddess of Pleasure, languid, seductive but secretly wanting to be swept off her feet, her hour glass figure is shown off in a green gown that's mostly unbuttoned, however she's started to develop a bit of a weight problem that's mostly hidden by her wide skirts due to it concentrating in her butt and thighs. Right now, Abara is eating a massive platter of pig, Balla is flirting with a waitress and Cula is picking unhappily at a salad.

The sensation of fullness was a guilty pleasure of Kayla's that she would never admit to having -- and one that was all-too-easily sated considering how her stomach was usually no larger than an unripe mango. Hence, she leaned comfortably against the bar, already feeling the effects of her single keg of beer on her mind as a pleasant fog that made her lips tingle. The slight pressure of her taught midsection on the front of her high-waisted trousers was pleasant enough for her to sigh with ease, but also alarming enough to make her subconsciously clench her abs in to maintain the appearance of perfect flatness.

She didn't have to wait long for The Sea Devils to make their presence known. In fact, she heard their arrival before the front doors swung aside to reveal three of the grittiest demon-bloods she ever laid eyes upon.

Of course, being a country bumpkin, Kayla had only ever seen crude drawings and sketches of demon-bloods in her books, which suggested ugly, vile creatures traipsing the line between man and beast. But these three were different: they traipsed the line between woman and beast. Each boasted smooth, blood-red skin without hint of blemish or hair, hard, long fingernails reminiscent of claws, and absolutely jaw-dropping figures that made the little dark elf blink with awe.

"Brewess!" the tallest demon-blood roared over the din of the tavern as she approached the stool next to Kayla. "A fresh plate of pork!"

"Sure thing, Abara," the bar wench smirked knowingly. "Got a fresh kill in the back. Why don't you loosen your belt and take a seat while I get it?"

"Good to go," Abara patted the buckle symbolically, but made no moves to unfasten it.

Kayla, for her part, was awestruck by the sheer size of the half-demoness, whose seven-foot height towered high over the seated elf, her bare, red abs a wall of muscle. She gulped at the sight of the woman's breasts, half-secured by a chain-mailed brazier that matched the trailing bottoms girdling her muscled hips. Abara's head poked into view from aforementioned breasts, staring back at her.

"Okay zero! Eyeballs!" the near-naked warrior raised an eyebrow at her.

"What?"

"Just what do you think you're eyeballin?'"

"I was..."

"Easy," Abara smirked as she straddled a stool beside the elf like a horse. "Of course you were eyeballin' me -- everyone does."

Before Kayla could think of a way to regain her composure, the bar wench returned with a steaming plate of roast pig. "Here's the usual," she smiled as she placed the delicacy before her patron. "Oh! I see you've met already. Abara, this is Kayla."

"Who?"

Kayla was about to answer when the second demon-blood eased herself onto the opposite stool. Kayla's shoulders shrank inwards, an acute sense of entrapment snaring her, and she stared nervously at the new potential threat. This newcomer was no giant (to her relief). In fact, she was just about the same size and build as Kayla -- save for a pair of pert, round breasts bulging-up from a tight, leather corset. Kayla wasn't the only one staring at them -- the bar wench stared openly, an eyebrow raised judgmentally.

"Welcome back Bella," she bit her lip. "I'm guessing you want the usual?"

"Aw, what's the matter?" Bella smirked, leaning forwards so her cleavage was in full view. "You aren't calling me 'love' or what?"

"Please. I call everyone that... you're different. In fact, more different than usual."

"Am I? What's changed? Do you like it?"

The bar wench rolled her eyes. "I'll be right back with your keg."

"Bring two this time!" Bella called after her. Then she turned to face Kayla and leaned close. "So! What's a boot like you doing in a place like this?"

It took every ounce of courage in Kayla's body to not lean away, but she held her ground and cleared her throat. "Ahem... you're part of The Sea Devils, I presume? My name is Kayla, and I --"

"Kayla! That's a pretty name."

"So... I'm interested in enlisting in your party to search the jungle ruins."

"Hey, I gave you a compliment. What's the big idea?"

"... what?"

"Aye aye captain, or some shit," Bella leaned closer, smile broadening into a grin of blazingly-white teeth. "Or a thank you, at least?"

"Thank you?"

"I'm kidding!" Bella slapped her arm. "Gods, but you're adorable! And yes, we're The Sea Devils, captains of the Iron Duck, may she rest in pieces."

"Aye," Abara held a bite of pork aloft with her fork in salute. "The greatest wooden hunk to ever float."

"So!" Bella slammed the bar with sudden enthusiasm. "I am Bella! The street-smartest pair of hands merchants ever matched wits with. And this is Abara -- she's strong."

"Not strong enough," Abara smirked as she chewed another bite. "Never strong enough!"

"Gainz for days!" Bella yelled. "And this is our chaplain, Cula."

Kayla was about to ask where Cula was when Balla leaned slightly aside to reveal one of the most beautiful women she'd ever seen. Neither massively strong like Abara, nor lithe and slender like Balla, Cula boasted a soft, curvaceous figure barely contained in a green gown that complimented her red complexion. Breasts larger and riper even than Balla's popped forwards from an unbuttoned front that revealed a stomach as smooth as a tomato. Kayla could even see the woman's navel, a shallow hole just deep enough for a finger to be able to tug upwards against the flap of skin just over it...

"Hey! Listen to me, boot! Okay, zero! Eyeballs!" Balla leaned into Kayla's field of vision once more, and the elf jerked with surprise, suddenly realizing that her mind had "tunneled" again. "So what were you eyeballin?'" Balla asked. "Don't answer -- I don't care. But I do care about you, do you understand? You say you wanna be a Sea Devil? Yeah?"

"I do..." Kayla nodded enthusiastically.

"So what do you do for us? Why should I say yes?"

(Rolled CHARISMA: 26. Pass)

"I'm a wizard," Kayla straightened in her seat. "Can't you tell? My memory's very sharp, a-and you see... I mean, I see that you don't have a wizard in your party."

"Okay, first and foremost, we're all warriors, do you understand? Every Sea Marine's a warrior."

"Mm!" Abara chimed-in, flexing a massive bicep.

"So that means you need to hold-out in a scrum," Bella wagged her finger. "So! How are we gonna prove that, huh?"

"I got this knife," Kayla patted the hilt of her blade strapped to her little waist. "And I traveled here across wood and jungle country by myself."

"Not bad," Bella paused when the bar wench placed two kegs brimming with foam before her. "Hey, thanks darling... anyway, I'm not gonna lie, I think I might just like you, Kaerin."

"My name is --"

"Alright, zero! As I was saying, I think I like you, and I'm not saying that being a wizard isn't useful, but you see the girl behind me? She's a chaplain, remember? She's got spells for days. Ain't that right, Cula? Cula?"

Cula started from her food, a bowl of salad identical to the one Kayla had enjoyed, but seemed to be making the cleric sick. She nodded lack-lusterly to Balla's query, and immediately returned to picking at her nutritious food.

"And as for me, well," Balla shrugged her shoulders and squeezed her arms tight against her sides, making her generous bosom swell seductively. "I like to think that you can set your mind to whatever you desire, no matter what class you are."

"Me too!" Kayla perked-up at the mention of ambition. "Oh. Sorry."

"But maybe you have a unique set of skills we can use, huh? Tell me what kind of spells you got."

"I can do any spell I read about," Kayla puffed her chest proudly. "And I've read a lot. Actually... it depends on how much mana the spell needs... and if I remember the spell..."

"Whatever. What do you know now? Off the top of your head?"

"Well the last couple books I read were Fauna of the Continent and Layman's Guide to Illusion..."

"Okay, tracking. Keep going."

"So I know this spell that allows me to sense edible food. It was really useful while I was in the woods. Also, I remember how to cast a spell nobles use to make their middles appear slimmer."

"Basic illusion spell..." Bella smirked. "Maybe you should join us after all! You can cast it on Cula over here!"

"Balla!" Cula huffed, stabbing a crouton with her fork. "I do not need a slimming spell! As you can see, I'm the sexiest woman here."

"Aw, really?" Balla leaned towards her. "You sure you couldn't use a little tone? Just the illusion of it? I wanted to sign the elf with us, but if you say you're fine, well..."

Cula groaned. "Balla, you ass! It's not like that!"

"So do you want her or naw...?"

"Ask Abara."

"So what you think Abara?" Balla leaned past Kayla to brush her hand against the towering warrior's thick tricep.

The chainmail-bikini-clad barbarian mused the question, chewing thoughtfully as she stared at the ceiling. Meanwhile, Kayla was trapped between the bar and Balla's breasts.

"Mm... I want to take her with us," Abara concluded, rubbing Kayla's hair with her arm, palming her entire head. "She looks smart -- and warm."

"So that's settled," Balla snaked her arm around Kayla's body, squeezing tight. "We're leaving tomorrow morning to find us some booty. Understand?"

"Y-yes," Kayla said nervously, trapped between two demon-girls.

So, my plan has succeeded, Kayla smiled silently to herself. And it was all according to plan, of course... they may think me to be a harmless little dark elf, but they have yet to witness the full power of my unmatched, cunning wit! First, the jungle ruins, next, the world...

"Let's drink on it!" Balla slid her spare keg towards Kayla. "Drink!"

Kayla swallowed. Her stomach was already comfortably full. Could she really submit herself to more?

(Roll WILLPOWER: 19 PASS)

"N-no need for that," Kayla sniffed. "I have no coin for another round, after all..."

SRSLY hot as hell writing on them, good work making the personalities really pop...

But while I'm writing Aurora's next chapter, here's some new rules that Flyer33 came up with in a private message in regards to eating and drinking contests.

"

1. Roll CON checks and report how many you pass before you fail. For each success, roll CON again or gain weight.

or 

2. Roll a fixed number of CON checks and report number of successes. Also roll the same number of CON checks and gain weight for each one failed."

We're gonna go with number 1..

Why is this relevent? Because to be a Sea Devil, Kayla is going to need to drink a lot of grog.

So just to start, Roll a D10 for Kayla, that's going to determine how many rounds of sugary, empty calorie booze she can drink. And then roll that number of Con checks. Then roll a con check for each failure. And for each time she fails...why that's a pound on those superior elven cheeks...

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On 9/22/2020 at 7:05 PM, Batman76 said:

As she got down on hands and knees, 60 inch hips and taut butt going up in the air and showing off as her shift slid up, to get out the door, Aurora came to an awful realization.

This wasn't the day she got to lounge on bleachers at the arena, petting the cute pony she couldn't ride and watching even cuter boys get sweaty before she pretended to not know how to hit things so they could guide her footing by hugging her naked legs. Nor was it the day Aurora got to grope some taut knightly pecs before more dancing and an even bigger dinner. Or even the day she had to sweat being put through dancer after dance by Coach Van Ost. No, today was the absolutely worst day ever, today was not just a lesson day with Lady Tyffany but a quiz day!

"I know I'm here to learn magic but really, I didn't know there was going to be a test in it," the academically lazy sorceress whined to herself, "I can already cast three kinds of spells, and yeah weight spells seem important but...a test?"

Genetics that had let her people survive ice ages kicked into gear, the Giantess was stressed, which meant a predator or famine were at hand. Which meant she needed to get as much protein in her stomach as it could hold, get somewhere comfy, have sex and nap! Stomach grumbling so loudly other, shorter sorceresses leaving their chambers in the massive hall thought a thunder storm was brewing. Aided by her immense stride and hampered by having to duck under door frames, Aurora finally got into the red marble banquet hall at the center of the red granite Lady's in Waiting barracks inside the even bigger basalt Red Palace. Half remembered theorems mixing with drinking games and charts on magical components mixing with doodles of chiseled pectorals, the giantess got to one of the buffets before there was too much of a line.

The Red Empress liked her ladies in waiting to be a bit too well fed for the most part, girls with a bit of a weight problem couldn't scheme against her as effectively after all, something generations of lithe beauties had failed to realize as they went to town on the massive spread laid out every morning for five centuries straight. Aurora might be the first giantess in these halls but she followed a long tradition by totally pigging out before a test! The literally gigantic brunette parked her relatively small blue butt in front of a wide spread of meats, loading up a wooden tray with bacon, sausage links, ham, scrambled eggs, fried eggs, poached eggs and a breakfast meat omelette. This was followed by a second tray and a third, enough food to put any other Lady into a food coma but was juts Aurora's regular breakfast. Balancing the trays, she grabbed a gallon jug of creamy, sugary coffee from a young serving squire, nearly killing the boy with a kiss on his forehead, and hurrying to the table where her friends sat, her own enlarged chair reserved for her.

"Forgetting something Aura?" Katie, the brunette leader of Aurora's squad of maidens, asked as she eyed the pile of protein in front of her junior's clearly visible tits

"Umm, I don't know," Aurora asked, swallowing an immense mouthful of greasy meat and looking around on the table before her, "Please, I can't forget stuff today on a quizz day!"

Katie glanced at her friend Jessine, small smiles going from brunette to redhead. Teasing and tormenting the dumb Giant was almost too easy. It wasn't that Aurora did anything to earn their subtle bullying, but not only did every knight in the palace drool when her 6 foot blue legs strutted into the room, she ate like a pig while both Katie and Jessine were on strict diets to keep their figures. The two might admit tricking the foolish foreigner figured that it was only just that they put more and more and more food onto Aurora's figure until at last the calories overwhelmed her height.

"You forgot your carbs silly! Geesh Aurora, you have to load up on bread and sugar if you want to do well in class," the brainy Jessine said, sliding her own plate of french toast, donuts and pancakes in front of the giant, "here, eat these and I'll go get you some more!"

"yeah, take my waffles and scones too, we'll go get you some more plates," Katie agreed.

"Aww that's so sweet, thank you guys so much," Aurora beamed, paused to shove a foot long donut and eat it in one bite, "but there's no need to wait on me like that, I can get my own!"

The other two, more senior Ladies, laughed.

"No need Aurora, we need the exercise. I'm engaged for next spring," Katie reminded, tapping the ring on her finger, "and have to fit into the family dress. And the winter tummy I used to get has started hanging around in spring time."

The plumper sorceress idly flicked the slight paunch pressing into her pink night gown.

"And if my tits get any bigger my back is going to give out," Jessine agreed, hefting the freckly bosom that pressed into her thin nightie, "I know I'm lucky to grow there but they almost knocked me off the horse during riding lessons yesterday. Seriously, if you could eat anything sweet in front of me it would be a big favor!"

"Yeah, me too! I gotta get down to a 24 inch waist and you're so skinny!" Katie rubbed in, "you could probably eat what I do for a whole week and not gain a pound!"

Aurora smiled, light blue face going pink to be praised by her immediate superior! "Aww thanks guys, its so great to have you watching out for me!"

The frost giantess ate, not suspecting a thing....

Aurora has gained 1 pound! Aurora now weighs 610lbs.

While breakfast was a blast, if a very full blast where Aurora pigged out on greasy meat and sugary carbs until her belly pooched out, and the the daily game of splashing and grabass in the deep, steaming bath pools were as always fun, Aurora's actual class was miserable.

"And what is the prime mover of weight magic?" Lady Tiffany asked, one perfectly plucked eyebrow rising towards her golden curls, "Anyone?"

The classroom was at least outside in one of the vast Red Palace's red rose gardens so Aurora didn't have to slouch, but the Giantess still wasn't thrilled. Her strengths lay in feeling sexy enough to cast a spell and being good at pleasing people, not remembering facts! Ugh, she'd be tempted to totally pig out if she hadn't had such a filling breakfast if Tiffany allowed snacks in her class. Not that she would, the blonde sorceress was an ultra curvy sexpot with a vavoom figure who was always bemoaning needing a corset but doing so in way that Aurora would have thought Tiffany actually liked needing to be laced into shape if not for her complaining. Trying to not make eye contact, the brunette sorceress looked down to doodle a big, juicy steak and a cake to munch on when Tiffany's steely gaze turned to her.

"Aurora, you're one of the best casters here, you take to throwing a spell like a duck to water," Tiffany said, the curvy blonde walking in front of her class, high heels clicking on the red paving stones, "tell me what the prime mover of weight magic is..."

Aurora's smooth, delicate brow crinkled in worry and she bit a plump lip. Why the hell should she know?

"Um, uhh...," she thought mind scrambling, spiralling into fear.

What was it based on? Jealousy? Gluttony? Motion? Energy? What the hell could it be?

All of those answers were in fact correct, any and all of them would have gotten her good marks and praise but instead the panicking giantess blurted out, "Um, food I guess?"

Tyffany sighed, "No, no it is not food. Please see me after class Lady Aurora..."

To her crushing shame, Aurora was assigned two remedial lessons a week with Lady Tyffany, to be held in the more senior Sorceress' palatial chambers in the crimson wing of the palace during brunch. Aurora didn't usually over eat brunch but she supposed two extra meals a week wouldn't hurt, after all her friends had said she was so skinny! And grandma's ring, the beautiful saphire in mithril bandthat had once been on a dwarf king's crown, was loose on her. All of her sisters had had the ring before getting too tubby to fit it on their fingers, while it was still loose on her.

So she wasn't fat, just...ugh, unable to answer a question. The whole reason she was here! Ugh she was so useless!

After class, the Giantess walked to dinner, feeling as bad as she had at breakfast. Food piled up on her plate, mostly meat from her own choices, but soon joined by extra trays of desert that her 'friends' piled on. Her belly was still a little sore from breakfast so maybe she shouldn't eat so much but...

Roll Willpower: 57. Fail

Roll Constitution: 75/30. Fail

Aurora has gained one pound! she now weighs 611 pounds. Next fat point at 636.

Absolutely, positively stuffed, more bloated than she'd ever been, the engorged sorceress stumbled back to her room early and passed out, casting a sooth spell on her tummy to aide digestion. Falling asleep, she knew she had a long week where besides the brunch lessons, she was going to make sure to...

Going to train hard for the tournament: Roll Athletics

Try and relax watching jousting, maybe take a sword lesson:

Serving a mission for Princess Simone: Roll Charisma

And at the end of it all she had a very important...

Ceremony to perform. Roll Willpower and Charisma.

Military dance to attend. Roll Athletics and Charisma

Duel to serve as a medic at. Roll Charisma

But, and the soon snoozing sorceress didn't even think about this, there were (thanks to Lady Tiffany's two lessons) at least twelve chances to over eat between now and then...

Roll 12 Willpower Saves, for each failure roll a Constitution save. For each failed constitution save, she will gain 1 pound.

Aurora loved every day spent at the Red Palace.

The ones with lessons a little less perhaps than the others but they were still great! Cute boys, lots of friends who had no choice but to look up to her and lots of admiring eyes on her long legs and firm butt. But after that awful failure in magic class she now had stressful brunches with Lady Tiffany twice a week.

Brunches where she was interrogated about aspects of fattening magic. Tiffany telling her to picture herself as being fat, overburdened by lard, body struggling even to take a single step under its quivering adipose load. Thighs bigger around than her waist and hips put together sliding past each other with the grind of continental plates, knees swelling with the strain of holding up her two thousand pound figure, breath catching in her swollen chest. Angry at a venal world that had passed you by now that you were no longer slim enough, enraged that you'd been made totally helpless by all this fat, so disgusted with your figure you couldn't even cast a spell, bitter and jealous at the slimmer, elegant girls who laughed at your bloated back.

While that did seem to tick Lady Tiff off quite a bit, Aurora had no concept of that. After all, shed' never had a weight problem and her response to any stress or problem certainly wasn't anger or jealousy! No, Aurora's reaction to not getting the meditation lesson was to dig into the massive spread Lady Tiffany had laid out at her brunch meetings. Pastries and pasties and sandwiches both meaty and ice cream went past the Frost Giant's plump lips and shiny teeth, another big meal added to days of them. Aurora was a big eater at anymeal, but at Tiffany's lessons she cleaned the whole table down to the last crumb to deal with the problem of listening to academia.

Will power Saves for extra meetings: (95 Fail. 98 Fail) Constitution Saves 58, fail.  28, re roll with disadvantage, 79fail. Aurora has gained 2 lbs, up to 613. Next FAt point at 636.

"I'm *urp* so sorry Lady Tiffany," Aurora said, using a spoon the size of a garden trowel to ladle whipped cream into her mouth, "I just can't imagine what its like to have a weight problem. I was always the short scrawny one at home, now I'm the tall thin one who can eat whatever she wants!"

Tiffany, a woman who'd painstakingly maintained her beautiful figure at a point of chubbiness just small enough for corsetry, flattering cuts and makeup contouring to mostly high, could only glare at her student. And at the calorie mountains she'd demolished and the immense food belly stretching Aurora's skimpy scarlet dress to the max.

"One day dear, perhaps sooner than you can imagine you'll know just what I mean," her professor said, "Now you best go and rest before dinner..."

The pattern for the week was quite consistent. When stressed in tutoring, Aurora ate. And when she wasn't stressed in tutoring, she was stressed about her training!

The Queen of Love contest was frighteningly fierce. One of the Empress' youngest daughters was entering under an assumed name and given the strange political situation, with Theona withdrawing from frequent public appearances for the first time in centuries, each city state, duchy, principality, landgrave and canton in the 101 Kingdoms was putting its best beauties forwards to earn public applause. Aurora had thought the whole thing would be just a fun party but instead she'd found herself in the next best thing to military boot camp!

"The Savari strip tease is the oldest known dance among humans. It was performed in the court of the cruel hobgoblin khans who ruled over our kingdoms five centuries ago, by highly trained slaves who were objectified and degraded as they performed their masterful art. It was one of these slaves, a girl named Theona who gathered enough confidence from her dancing, to lead a rebellion and found this empire. We remember our Empress humble start and honor her in the dance," the head coach of the contest said to the assembled girls in front of her, "which is why I am damn ashamed to see you! Look at what a disgrace you are!? Lady Fellbein, you know pregnant women can't compete and you best hope you're pregnant with a tummy like that! And don't you fucking snigger Lady Adelyn, those tits your so proud of are falling so fast they're going to bounce off the floor and hit you in the damn eye! And you Lady Aurora!"

Aurora had been watching with intent and now quivered as the coach walked over. Colonel Von Saurpuss was the toughest, meanest knight in Imperial service. Her body was nothing but lean muscle under scars, leading up to long white hair and a black eye patch across her angry face. Some said she was 40, a veteran of many wars kept youthful due to her dedication with the art of dance. Some said she was 540 and one of the empress' oldest champions, kept alive by Theona's magic. Or that she was many hundreds of times older than that and that in cities lost beneath the sea, molluscs and squid avoided murals showing an angry, one eyed, white haired woman in a metal bikini with a whip.

"Y-yes?" Aurora squeaked, like she was two foot instead of twelve, right now wishing she didn't stand out head, neck, shoulder's, chest, stomach and hips above everyone else.

"You've got no muscle tone! None, look at you girl you're soft pudge on small bones. And you do not watch what you eat," Saurpuss growled, raising her arm up to smack Aurora's tummy, still puffy from brunch, and leaving a bright red mark, "up on the stage and do your routine, now!"

Squeaking in terror, Aurora hurried up the stage. She was full and deeply afraid but she still went through the routine, carefully alternating between spinning on the metal pole, grinding on the throne like chair and slowly pulling away the veins tied over her sex and hips in an imptomptu set of bottoms. Aurora didn't move very fast, she wasn't supposed to, but Thor knew she was sweaty and tired by the time she was finally naked.

Athletics roll, pass.

"Hmm, not good. Your pacing was off, you didn't shake your breasts nearly enough and you're huffing and puffing like a chubby girl," Saurpuss growled, "but also not awful. You didn't forget any of the routines or throw up. Keep working."

Aurora beamed, so happy she didn't even feel compelled to over eat that day! Of course, the giant still did over eat at dinner. And at breakfast. Every day of the week, with her friends loading her tray up with enough empty calories to make a human vomit. Aurora ate and ate, after all that was what you were supposed to do right? Eat like a pig until someone bigger than you pushed you away?

Willpower to avoid over eating, with disadvantage. 85, fail. 34, fail. 23 then 44, fail. 46 fail. 45 fail.

Constittution to avoid WG: 54, fail. 21, then 7 pass. 79 fail. 28, then 5 pass. 46, fail.

Aurora has gained 3 pounds, up to 616. Next fat point at 638.

Although Aurora's brain was failing to control her mouth at any point, her metabolism was starting to realize that something was off. There were two days where it actually prevented her from gaining, leaving her only 8 pounds heavier than where she'd started. Most of the women at court would have been comatose with rage to have gained 8 pounds in a week. Even the ones from chubby chasing kingdoms might have felt a bit sluggish and off by eating so much. But Aurora felt fresh as a daisy and had no clue she was gaining nearly a pound a day, after all why would she? Her magically enhanced clothes fit fine and her ring wasn't even snug!

At the end of the hellish week, Aurora was actually chosen for a task. Maybe Lady Tiffany was impressed her somewhat ditzy student was trying or maybe it was just because the naturally kind and empathetic giant was very good at healing and not squeamish around blood, but Aurora was told to report to mourner's grove friday at dusk.

Mourner's grove was a big patch of giant red wood trees set outside the vast curtain walls of the Red Palace. Dueling was forbidden within the structure ever since the day of 300 dead idiots four centuries earlier when that number of noblemen had mutually decided to fight to the death in the inner court yard for Empress Theona's hand. The sorceress monarch had been annoyed rather than impressed, mostly by how the red blood staining her expensive red marble tiles would turn brown and need to be hosed off. Centuries later and dueling had to be held well away from the palace lest the Empress be pissed off, even though Theona had solved her romantic riddle by creating the largest and best trained harem of voluntary courtesan's in the world.

Aurora went there right after pageant practice, metal bra still on her breasts under her very tight dress. This wasn't due to the wait, but rather Aurora wishing to show off her pencil thin body, especially her trim legs. The grove was dark and creepy even in late afternoon, giving the girl the creeps even though she was a powerful magician and able to rip a chain mail shirt in half with a shrug. When one figure stepped out from in front of a tree, she had to stile a yelp, especially as her long stride had knocked him flat on his back!

"Oh, sorry, didn't see  you there!" Aurora said, bending down and picking him up, dusting off his pauldrons.

The man was about to say something until he looked up...and up...and up...finally getting past Aurora's 6 foot, shapely legs to her firm hips, relatively narrow waist and small, yet still melon sized breasts, to her long neck and delicate face.

"No, no, pardon me my fault entirely," he said, bowing low, "Sir Typhos, at your service, you could only be the lovely lady Aurora..."

The blue girl went pink for a moment, "You know me?"

She'd thought the human knight was cute: broad shouldered, tall, good face and hair but knowing her name lit him up in neon.

"Of course, no other lady at the court could be so lovely," the knight said, reaching for her hand (big as his whole forearm) and giving a delicate kiss to her wrist, "my lady sister is a tutor of yours I believe, she has nothing but praise for your poise and skill."

This was a total lie, Lady Tiffany had nothing but private criticism for the raven haired giantess but the romantic Typhos' mind instantly rewrote them into nothing but praise, especially considering that some of the criticism had been about Aurora's appetite! Typhos liked his girls big, the bigger the better really, and this girl was as big as they got! Even skinny mini she was three of the next chubbiest girl at court! By all the gods and goddesses known and known, if he had an estate to inherit (not having one being a younger son) he'd put every half penny from it into turning this vision into the big, light blue water bed she was born to be!

"Oh, why thank you, she must be very nice in private," Aurora said, always trying to see the good in every one.

"Perhaps, but not nearly so nice as you. Tell me, Aurora, Aurora, the name is like the dancing lights in the sky," the enchanted knight told her, still kissing her wrists, "are you free tonight? Because I fear my mortal heart may not be able to take it if I cannot spend all evening just saying your magnificent name."

The giant giggled. There were stares and flirts and then there was this. She was glad she'd put underwear back on after practice, other wise she'd be dribbling juice onto the mulchy forest floor.

"I'd love to, but I have a duel to be the medic at first," the sorceress said.

"Duel?" Typhos asked, then looked down at his red dyed armor, "Oh yes of course, that duel I'm in against one of the Poppinjays."

There were many factions at the Red Empress' court. Every big noble family had one and so did every one of the Empire's sub kingdoms. And so did the different factions in those kingdoms. And so did those of the most powerful cult, the Goddess of Justice. And so did those of the other cults who disliked her. And those divided on policy. And of course noble vs up jumped because they had military talent or sorcerous might peasant. And those who wanted to overthrow the empress or just rebel and form their own kingdoms. And, Empress Theona was the biggest faction of all, many times in the kingdom's history it turned out she'd been multiple factions setting against each other.

But the two main ones were her daughters,  Raven's black armored Poppinjays vs Simone's Red armored Cardinals. The two sisters, the eldest and direct imperial heirs, each had a powerful brigade of knights that rotated into regular duty on the borders and their rivalry was long and bitter. The Cardinals were an older and more powerful lineage, with long glories echoing back through centuries of service. But Ravenna's poppinjay's had newer, shinier glories in the Dominion Crusades after their mistress had pulled out of a fattening, self destructive spiral and become a force in the Empire.

There was never open warfare between the two, usually because Ravenna's regiment was quartered with her sub-court in the Mauve Mansion, while Simone's cohort was barracked around her Carmine Keep at the other end of the city sized palace complex, with the Empress' personal Crimson Citadel rising between them. But there were plenty of duels, fights and piss ups between the two units, especially in the taverns of the towns that ringed the vast fortification.

"Oh you're in the duel, I hope you don't get hurt, you're so cute!" Aurora blurted out and blushed, instead of thinking about the geopolitical implications.

"Why dear Aurora, I will endeavor not to get the slightest scrape on myself for your sake," the red clad night smiled, only for the clank of armor to cut him off.

Another knight approached, this one female. And clad head toe in black plate.

"Still going after the big ones I take it? Really Typhos, by now I'd have thought they'd catch on to your disgusting plans, but this one looks dumber than any other girl I've seen," the black armored knightess sneered, her hands on her great sword, "She'd probably eat cake without you even making her."

"Saville, and I'd have thought that you'd have looked into some stagnant body of water, seen your own reflection and turned to stone by now," Typhos returned, "And if I hadn't had enough reason to duel you, you already insulted this fair lady. After I pummel you here, how about we do it again?"

"Well, I'd say wait until the sorceress who's supposed to patch you up shows but really, that doesn't matter," Saville grinned, whistling through her teeth and summoning a dozen under black armored poppinjays, "Because I figure, after what you said about lady Ravenna, we're going to do you bad enough no sorceress or cleric can help you out."

Blades flashed in the dark, not blunted dueling ones either but real man killers. Typhos immediately put himself in front of Aurora, his own blunted blade drawn. The Giantess, a hater of confrontation, felt her arms curl up in fear. A dozen armed men and women! She felt a need to run, until her firm butt backed into a tree, trapping herself.

Oh what should she do, should she run? Call for help?

No wait a minute. She was twice any of their size and also a sorceress to boot!

Aurora might have been crappy at Fat Magic so far, but it wasn't just healing that she was good at. At home the small giant had been constantly ignored by her bigger sisters and worse, picked on for not being able to throw a javelin 400 yards! But here, seen as one of the most enviable girls in a court full of beauties, able to talk over every one due to her high soprano voice and able to juggle her tiny comrades, Aurora was an absolute beast. Her ice shard spells could punch through the hardest steel and when the black haired woman really wanted to, she could override human will with ease!

Sweet, kind, naive and sensitive Aurora might be, but when pressed to the wall and threatened, the same warrior spirit that had driven the dwarves from the mountains swelled in her breast and loosed with magical force!

Roll Charisma. 57, pass.

"STOP,' Aurora yelled at the black armored knights, who froze in their tracks, all the anger she hadn't even known she'd felt at people belittling her intelligence and dedication swelling from her breast.

She looked down on them, men and women frozen in their own bodies and paced forwards, unable to not give Typhos a sharp smack on the rear. Looking down her button nose at Saville, the Frost giant met the knight's terrified eyes and gave a sharp command.

"TOSS ALL YOUR WEAPONS AND ARMOR IN THE PALACE LAKE," Aurora commanded, the knights already unbuckling their armor, "THEN GO TO THE NEAREST BAKERY AND FEED SAVILLE THE BIGGEST CAKE THEY HAVE. THEN TIE HER TO THE PALACE FLAG POLE NAKED!"

The terrified and mind controlled knights did exactly that, tossing valuable heirloom weapons and expensive armor into the lake with a resounding set of splashes and then dragging the stunned Saville towards town. As they left, Aurora was so shocked that she collapsed onto a stump and gasped that it had worked!

"I...I did something without screwing it up!" she managed, so elated she might float away.

"You fail, why I only regret that I ever felt the need to interpose myself, as you assuredly had it in the bag the entire time,' Sir Typhos told her,  kneeling at her feet, "Lady Aurora, I would humbly beg a favor of you to wear in the coming tournament..."

Aurora blushed, a favor was a big thing to give out!

"Well, how about you earn it...," she said slyly, amazed at her boldness, "by..."

Taking me out to dinner: buying me the biggest meal I can eat...and then we start kissing and take it from there... Roll Constitution

Buying me a dress: the dress shops are still open, I want a nice gown in my actual size, made in my measurments...for the ball you're taking me too...in between we have sex. Roll intelligence.

 

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4 hours ago, Batman76 said:

I'Vi knew that before anything, she needed energy to burn and to wash off any excess from the night before.

A glimpse outside her door revealed girls trickling from their rooms, in various states of hangovers, bedhead and walks of shame. Few of them were wearing make up or had their hair in any approachable state, but at the moment those standards of beauty were forgotten. Universally though, the mostly sorceress crowd was very scantily clad. Lacy negligee the size/thickness of a handkerchief that did more to expose nubile breasts and heartshaped butts, while totally transparent night gowns draped over full busts and round hips, erect nipples showing that it was still early spring. The Angel-Blood noted with an amused, aroused smirk that a few of the Imperial Ladies in Waiting were carrying a few extra pounds, there a belly pressing tighter into the taut night gown than the same maiden's breasts were, there a butt hanging out of its underwear like the flag of a defeated army, over here a chunky set of thighs. Given that they all had towels of various amounts of fluffiness it was likely they'd beheading to the baths at some point and she'd see even more of them.

"Best keep an eye out for Sam, I'm sure that little pervert will be around somewhere..." she mused, eyes following a particularly nice starter belly muffin topping over a thong's straps.

Slipping into a see through red robe, showing both l"Vi's stunning cleavage and all the pounds she unfortunately wasn't carrying around her belly. Well, there was certainly a good spread to be shoved down and the sooner she got there, the sooner her own gut would by hanging down by her knees. The Angel-blood headed into the hall, her white wings and bouncy bust catching the eye as she flounced down the red granite hall. Before long, l"Vi's small nostrils widened to smell every breakfast dish imaginable.

If there'd been any doubt over why the feminine population of the Red Palace was always in a slow state of weight gain, this room would have put that mystery to rest. Hundreds of tables were laid out for the hungry cuties, and a dozen long buffet lines. Meat sizzled and pastries gleamed, while a chocolate fountain and bubbly wracks of breakfast champagne waited alongside a very busy coffee bar.

Humming to herself, thinking of the type of belly she could get in a few months of steadily eating at this place and just how big and buttery and, l"Vi got in line.  For a moment she waited, barely able to even listen to the chatter around her about tournaments and balls and diets, and focusing on all of that sugar, salt and grease she could get into her tummy. The moment she got in front of that pile of Danishes, bacon, donuts, ham, quiche and tarts, the Angel-Blood's tongue started wagging. Once she had enough fattening junk on her plate to make a horse go *pop*. Tossing a few tarts into her mouth, cheeks bulging out like a chipmunk, she turned around and nearly knocked over the pile of another young woman...

"Oh sorry!" the other girl said, nearly making the Angel born choke out.

This girl....damn. The Angel-Born liked girls with some chunk and preferred it if she could carry a few extra pounds, remembering how good Lissia's initial pudge had looked made the initial gain so sweet. So she'd gotten pretty good at looking for women on the verge of or just starting to go from slender beauty to languid cream puff. And this girl here, her weight was about to take off like a rocket!

Gulping the food down, enough calories to ruin the diet of anyone on there own who wasn't an angel born, I"Vi shook her head.

"No no, its all my fault. I need to learn to watch where I'm going!," the wizard said, "best we all learn to navigate like we're quite a bit bigger than we are, if we're going to eat like this every day."

The other lady in waiting stared at the wizard like she'd grown another head, "Are you...are you calling me fat?"

"Well not quite yet, but obviously you're trying to gain if you eat like that," I'Vi smiled, "you must be a natural fat girl just waiting to get big! I'm hoping to get a nice soft tummy myself, you?'

The other girl slapped her tray back onto the buffet and the massive noise of echoed through the room.  I'Vi realized she'd let her horniness get well away from her, projecting her desires for bulking up amid curvy cuties onto someone who wasn't yet aware they were a natural cow. Going beat red, body burning off the calories she'd gulped in record time, she new she'd have to fix this somehow! Or else she'd just totally screwed up her first interaction with....

The frost giant girl Aurora: while skinny as a rail right now, the way this girl was eating meant she'd soon have the typical frost giant's chunky build. Tear drops were welling in her big blue eyes and she looked ready to bolt off shrieking and weeping! Catching up with someone the size of a tree was going to be hard....Roll Athletics

A glamorous looking elven cleric named Vetica: with calf length black hair and big brown eyes, this arrogant beauty had a starter paunch catching up with her big boobs and was not happy someone else had noticed her addiction to human food! I"Vi might have made an enemy judging by the slap coming to her face! Roll Athletics!

A human knight named Isabeau: blonde of hair, blue of eye and golden of skin, Isabeau used to have a ripped soldiers build. Since coming to court she's lost her muscle and beginning to pad out afore and behind, being one of the plumper girls at court now. And while she's about to run from the tray, the red blush on her cheeks suggests she's more aroused than angered by that...Roll Charisma!

A red haired human sorceress named Sabine: a green eyed red head, the tight nighty over her slightly too curvy for its own good figure and wearing enough jewelry to buy a cavalry regiment new horses. Save for the lack of wings, I'vi realizes she looks quite a bit like Princess Simone or Princess Ravenna and quite a bit like the gorgeous ginger Sorcress who owns this empire. Had she just told a member of the royal family she looked chunky? Better solve this quick! Roll Charisma!

Shit.

 A being of lesser intelligence than l’Vi would have sworn that it was impossible for someone to be so whip-smart and so enormously stupid all at once. Of course, this was not news to l’Vi. She had been this way all her life. A morning spent daydreaming about Lissia had left her in a fog. The problem being that the fog didn’t actually cause any of the signals flying around her brain to slow down, it just meant that she couldn’t tell where they were headed until they were on her lips and out into the open air.

Fuck.

 

And here that one had flown right out and pierced the ego of this unsuspecting lass. But hot damn was this woman easy on l’Vi’s increasingly weary eyes. Her body was almost the spitting image of Lissia’s 11 years ago. Well Lissia after l’Vi had taught her a thing or two. And l’Vi couldn’t think about the way Lissia looked 11 years ago without thinking about vast round gut she’d been sporting last year in Venija...   

Honestly, what reasonable person could possibly blame l’Vi for assuming the beautiful Elven cleric before her was headed down the same path? And this Elf was beautiful. Her delicate Elven features framed by cascading black hair flowing all the way down to her calves. A thin gold band in that hair to keep it from her deep brown eyes. And she looked so good in nothing but a wisp of a robe that l’Vi could imagine her wearing it to a ball without a single soul objecting.

What a robe it was! Several sizes too small, the Elf’s breasts were threatening to burst forth in all of their glory. L’Vi thought that she should be commended for not reaching out and caressing the flesh quivering before her. The Elf had skin the color of coffee with far too much cream, or perhaps just enough cream for the plump young woman of the Red Empress’s Court. The cleric’s round little belly and widening hips caused the robe to ride even higher than it was cut to, so that it looked like it would just cover her heart shaped behind if she were to bend over.  

What’s more she had the air of a delightfully prissy bitch. The arrogance in her manner despite the obvious paunch struggling against the confines of the robe which anyone can see will need to be replaced within a week if she continues to breakfast so decadently… well it only made l’Vi’s heart beat even faster.

Although… a new thought has finally pushed its way to the forefront of l’Vi’s racing mind. Perhaps her heart is not beating so quickly due to her fantasies of being ordered around by this catty cleric. No… it could be because the woman’s open palm is racing towards l’Vi’s own pretty face far too rapidly to be some sort of Elvish greeting with which l’Vi is unfamiliar.

SHIT! Shitshitshitshitshit….

 

Roll ATHLETICS: 53. Pass.

Spring into action! No… l’Vi has once again wasted far too much time fantasizing for any kind of dynamic reaction. She manages at the last possible instant to move her head back exactly a hand’s breadth, causing the cleric’s hand to pass just under her cute, slightly upturned nose. L’Vi sees a fascinating range of emotions flash across the Elf’s enchanting features. Confusion, anger, the beginnings of embarrassment… but also a hint of respect. It cannot be understated just how frozen in place l’Vi had been throughout the entire arc of the cleric’s swing causing her head to almost appear to vanish and reconstitute itself just out of reach.

This was now turning out quite disastrously for the Elf. It was quite apparent from her softening body that she had not given hand-to-hand combat a second (or first) thought in quite some time (or ever). She was also clearly unused to her present mass and managed to build up a significant amount of angular momentum. Without l’Vi’s face to absorb the blow she was now spinning out of control, off balance and was about to careen directly into the buffet.

Thankfully the adrenaline served to clear the fog from l’Vi’s mind and she was seeing all of this play out a few frames into the future from the rest of the world. In one smooth motion she stepped forward, turning to the side and extending one of her powerful wings between the Elf and the towering buffet. The force of the cleric’s swing caused her to roll into l’Vi’s outstretched wing as l’Vi moved her away from the table. When all was said and done, they were once again standing face to face but now it was the Elf in a fog of befuddlement. L’Vi threw her arms around the soft young woman, puling her tight and laughing loudly for all who had noticed the commotion to hear. Then, putting on the voice of a vapid courtier,

“Ah! My Dear! How good it is to see you again! I jest of course, you’re looking absolutely marvelous. Ha ha! You must tell me your secret. I fear I’m going to wind up big as a house eating here!” L’Vi picked up both of their trays as she ushered the Elf towards an empty section of tables.  

“I am. So. Sorry,” said l’Vi, almost whispering now. “Please, eat breakfast with me. I’m l’Vi.”

L’Vi knew she was pushing it, but she’d gone for broke to save them both embarrassment and the Elf had the air of one smart enough to catch onto her playacting…

(I think that this will be warranted: Roll CHARISMA: 75. Pass!)

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All right, part II

The commotion, the physical disorientation and l’Vi’s very odd, very intense energy had put the young Cleric off her guard just enough to go with the tides. She narrowed her eyes at l’Vi and nodded wordlessly.

L’Vi put their trays down at the far end of a table (Redwood. Surely, they cannot be serious thought l’Vi). They settled into seats next to one another, feeling the eyes of those who had witnessed their kerfuffle, knowing they needed to act like long separated bosom-friends just playing out a gag.

“Please. I beg you to forgive me. Something about you, your elegance… your poise… your beauty, you reminded me of a dear, dear friend of mine. And I lost myself. I only just arrived here and I’m basically alone… I sincerely beg your pardon, Miss…?”     

The elf tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. Between the enormous mess she herself had nearly made and the endless barrage of words tumbling forth from this silver haired Angelblood, she couldn’t even remember exactly what it was that l’Vi had said. Although the essence of it still made the blood in her pointed ears run hot.

 “My name is Vetica. And you, you are very strange Angel-Born. And very small for your kind. I did not expect you to move as you did… and with such strength.”

L’Vi smirked, her cheeks bulging with an entire chocolate filled breakfast pastry she had shoved into her mouth while Vetica was talking. The look on Vetica’s face let her know that she was not even close to being out of the woods on this one. She swallowed hard.

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “Well, you know we’re not all the same. My people are from a small island in the LoR. Everyone there is a little shorter on average, even the Devil-Kissed and the Angle-Touched. Probably from generations of food shortages…”

“Ah. Yes. You are from the island of the postmen?”

L’Vi nearly spit out her donut. This was a funny thing about the 101 Kingdoms. There was a large enough Aroni diaspora, Angel-Bloods, Devil-Bloods, and even some of the small population of Aroni humans, that every educated person in the Kingdoms had heard of Aron. But there weren’t many Aroni living in the majority of the 101 Kingdoms. And yet almost everyone who could read had met an Angel Blood from Aron because Aroni in the 101 worked almost exclusively delivering mail.

It was an odd thing to be sure, but it had a sort of logic to it. The Aroni had absolutely no social standing and often had only a bare minimum of formal education. But they had big white feathered wings and the striking features of the Angel Born. While this did not make people trust them (no one really trusted the Angel Born) it did afford them a sort of respect. And people always felt like they had secrets. Which meant that they could keep secrets.  What’s more, the average male Aroni Angel Blood was the size of a tallish human man. They used a lot less energy flying over long distances than their much larger cousins. Over hundreds of years they had managed to parlay this mix of other people’s prejudices and their own natural talents into trade which they could mostly call their own. They were largest and most visible purveyors of inter-kingdom communications in the 101.

But still, l’Vi had never once heard Aron referred to as the “island of the postmen.”

“I was born in Aron, yes.”

An awkward silence fell between them. The Aroni tended to talk about their homeland a lot more than anyone was really interested in hearing. L’Vi was hyper conscious of this fact and wanted to steer the conversation to something more mutually palatable. Palatable…

“I think that I could eat 100 hundred of these donuts every day. They are incredible. I’m afraid that I knocked some of your breakfast to the floor earlier. Please you must take some of mine…” L’Vi was eating like someone who was convinced that this would be her last opportunity to eat for next century. Vetica was eating like a civilized courtier, that is to say she was eating quite a lot. But no one could keep up with l’Vi. Still, l’Vi was pushing her luck. A sharp look from Vetica told her she wasn’t going to have success feeding the Elven beauty this morning.

“If you continue to eat like you are now, you won’t be flitting around on those wings of yours for long,” shot Vetica.

“Oh… if only.. well I mean that is odd to think about but… I really wouldn’t mind having some real curves you know?” L’vi grinned coquettishly. “I’ve always wanted something to hold on to. But this never seems to stick to me.” She patted her obscenely swollen belly.

Vetica’s eyes went wide. It did not seem physically possible for a person’s stomach to bloat like that just from eating. Her hand had gone to her own soft paunch while l’Vi was talking. It was straining against her robe. She’d had to enchant the knot this morning just to be sure her belly would stay contained. She really couldn’t believe how fat she was getting. Would not believe it really.

“You are very, very strange.”

“Oh. Come on. Look at all these gorgeous girls, worrying their pretty little heads about a few pounds here and there. Why should they fret about a thing like that when there are such decadent delights to be had.” l’Vi polished off the last of a cinnamon roll the size her own head.  

Vetica just shook her head. She’d been in the court of the Red Empress for a few years now. She knew that people like l’Vi existed. Chubby chasers. Fat Fetishists. Feeders. But she’d never met someone so casually… open about her desires. It was disorienting.

Another lull. But it somehow wasn’t so awkward now. L’Vi had her hands on her stomach and she was massaging it unconsciously. She’d finished off her mountain of food and she’d noticed that Vetica had let some of her own tower, still impressive even after l’Vi had knocked some of it over earlier, fall onto l’Vi’s tray. L’Vi had taken extra delight in gobbling up those treats.

She looked around the room. There was that innocent looking Frost Giantess again. L’Vi might be small for an Angel Born, but that girl was real runt! L’Vi felt a pang in her heart looking at her from across the room. She looked so sweet and naïve. As much as l’Vi felt like a fish out of water here, she had been somewhat trained to get by among the quality of the 101 Kingdoms. She felt a kinship with this beautiful Giantess, so obviously out of her element. L’Vi would have to try to talk to her. She always felt a bit more focused in life when she was helping someone else navigate a difficult situation.

Although she certainly had enough on her own plate to worry about. Well. Actually, she had cleaned her plate and a bit of Vetica’s.

Vetica was rising from her seat.

“Going for seconds?”

Vetica’s eyes narrowed. “I think that we’ve both had more than enough. You do realize that they let us eat multiple times a day? Every day?”

L’Vi’s face flushed. She really needed to find the line with this one.

Vetica gave her look as if to say “you’re hopeless,” and turned to walk away. L’Vi wondered for moment what she was supposed to do with her tray, realized that she was not a junior academic here, but a member of The Quality who was not to concern herself with such things, and hurried to catch up with Vetica. She paused for a moment to admire the plump cleric’s butt jiggling under her tight robe. Vetica’s belly had swollen enough that the hem of the robe was now exposing a hint of cheek. L’Vi tried not to swoon.

“Shall we go to the baths together?”

Vetica let out light-hearted scoff. She turned to l’Vi, fixing her startlingly beautiful eyes on the young wizard. “L’Vi. I will admit that, despite myself, I find your company… not altogether unpleasant. However. We are not going to take a bath together. You will bathe in the Red Marble Pools with all of the other most junior ladies and I will bathe in a private room.”

“You bathe in a private room?” L’Vi was somewhat astonished. Perhaps Vetica was much more important than she’d thought.

“Well… It is… semi-private,” Vetica admitted. She paused. There really was something that she liked about this absolutely bizarre Angel Born wizard. “It is a different room from yours anyway.” She smiled at l’Vi, somewhat coolly, spun on her heels as gracefully as her stuffed belly would allow, and walked away.

***

L’Vi managed to find what she hoped was the correct bathing area on her own. She was relived to find that the “Red” in the Red Marble Pools was finally more of an accent color and that the marble was mostly white. She slipped out of her robe and handed it to portly middle-aged serving woman. As she turned to enter the Pools the woman stopped her.

“Pardon me m’lady, I know that you are new here because I don’t yet know you. I’m Finnoula. You should know that those in your condition are entitled to a private room, if you wish.”

L’Vi cocked her head, unsure of the woman’s meaning and eager to get a peek at the plump beauties she had just seen stuffing their greedy faces in the dining hall.

Finnoula immediately read l’Vi’s confusion and recognized her mistake. Her eyes went wide as she inadvertently glanced and l’Vi’s engorged, taut round belly. Never in her 30 years of service had she made such a mistake, and she’d seen more than her fair share of young-women stuffed near to bursting.

“Oh. Dear. Pardon me M’Lady. I’m afraid I mistook you for some--”

“Finnoula! Finnoula!” L’Vi was laughing now, recognizing the situation for what it was. “My fine woman you have nothing to worry about. You have paid me a fine compliment.” She had meant to put the woman at ease, but she could see that Finnoula was still altogether unsure of the situation.

“Finoula!” L’Vi gave the woman a warm smile, patted her truly pregnant looking belly, laughing “I’ve been a greedy little girl haven’t I my dear?” She laughed again and strode confidently into the pools.

She felt like she had strode right through the gates of heaven. Dozens of soft young courtiers ranging from barely chubby to downright fat were milling about in varying states of uncoveredness. The fatter they were the more likely they were to try to hide themselves with towels, or beneath the surface of sudsy water. But the fatter they were the more they had stuffed themselves at breakfast and the more they were too dazed to do a very good job of hiding their luscious plump flesh. L’Vi felt her knees go weak.

She got herself into the magically heated (and continuously cleansed) water before she passed out on the floor. She drank in the sights. The cute blond human soaping her enormous round breasts just cross from her. The Red-Headed Devil Blood just relaxing by the side of the pool with her torso fully out of the water, a soft potbelly poking out under her large perky chest.

She looked around for the Frost Giant but she must have missed her, because that one certainly wouldn’t be able to hide.  

L’Vi had to restrain herself from making eyes with any one of these goddesses. She was getting the sense that despite her quick thinking (and quick reflexes) getting her out of what could have been a disastrous situation with Vetica, this did not seem to the best morning in which to try to work her charms. She would just soak for a bit and take in the sights, letting the warm water ease her weary muscles and sooth her bloated gut…

After a good soak, a half hour at least, she was beginning to feel restored. She managed to tear herself away from the sight of a slender elf soaping the back of her fat human friend while the friend held her belly in her hands and moaned about getting to fat to marry her fifth-cousin who was set to inherit a castle in such-and-such a backwater that no one really cared about.  

L’Vi toweled off. She was, improbably, feeling a bit hungry again. But she had dawdled enough. She had to go back to her chambers, get dressed and get down to some kind of work.

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5 hours ago, boss frond said:

All right, part II

The commotion, the physical disorientation and l’Vi’s very odd, very intense energy had put the young Cleric off her guard just enough to go with the tides. She narrowed her eyes at l’Vi and nodded wordlessly.

 

L’Vi put their trays down at the far end of a table (Redwood. Surely, they cannot be serious thought l’Vi). They settled into seats next to one another, feeling the eyes of those who had witnessed their kerfuffle, knowing they needed to act like long separated bosom-friends just playing out a gag.

 

“Please. I beg you to forgive me. Something about you, your elegance… your poise… your beauty, you reminded me of a dear, dear friend of mine. And I lost myself. I only just arrived here and I’m basically alone… I sincerely beg your pardon, Miss…?”     

 

The elf tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. Between the enormous mess she herself had nearly made and the endless barrage of words tumbling forth from this silver haired Angelblood, she couldn’t even remember exactly what it was that l’Vi had said. Although the essence of it still made the blood in her pointed ears run hot.

 

 “My name is Vetica. And you, you are very strange Angel-Born. And very small for your kind. I did not expect you to move as you did… and with such strength.”

 

L’Vi smirked, her cheeks bulging with an entire chocolate filled breakfast pastry she had shoved into her mouth while Vetica was talking. The look on Vetica’s face let her know that she was not even close to being out of the woods on this one. She swallowed hard.

 

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “Well, you know we’re not all the same. My people are from a small island in the LoR. Everyone there is a little shorter on average, even the Devil-Kissed and the Angle-Touched. Probably from generations of food shortages…”

 

“Ah. Yes. You are from the island of the postmen?”

 

L’Vi nearly spit out her donut. This was a funny thing about the 101 Kingdoms. There was a large enough Aroni diaspora, Angel-Bloods, Devil-Bloods, and even some of the small population of Aroni humans, that every educated person in the Kingdoms had heard of Aron. But there weren’t many Aroni living in the majority of the 101 Kingdoms. And yet almost everyone who could read had met an Angel Blood from Aron because Aroni in the 101 worked almost exclusively delivering mail.

 

It was an odd thing to be sure, but it had a sort of logic to it. The Aroni had absolutely no social standing and often had only a bare minimum of formal education. But they had big white feathered wings and the striking features of the Angel Born. While this did not make people trust them (no one really trusted the Angel Born) it did afford them a sort of respect. And people always felt like they had secrets. Which meant that they could keep secrets.  What’s more, the average male Aroni Angel Blood was the size of a tallish human man. They used a lot less energy flying over long distances than their much larger cousins. Over hundreds of years they had managed to parlay this mix of other people’s prejudices and their own natural talents into trade which they could mostly call their own. They were largest and most visible purveyors of inter-kingdom communications in the 101.

 

But still, l’Vi had never once heard Aron referred to as the “island of the postmen.”

 

“I was born in Aron, yes.”

 

An awkward silence fell between them. The Aroni tended to talk about their homeland a lot more than anyone was really interested in hearing. L’Vi was hyper conscious of this fact and wanted to steer the conversation to something more mutually palatable. Palatable…

 

“I think that I could eat 100 hundred of these donuts every day. They are incredible. I’m afraid that I knocked some of your breakfast to the floor earlier. Please you must take some of mine…” L’Vi was eating like someone who was convinced that this would be her last opportunity to eat for next century. Vetica was eating like a civilized courtier, that is to say she was eating quite a lot. But no one could keep up with l’Vi. Still, l’Vi was pushing her luck. A sharp look from Vetica told her she wasn’t going to have success feeding the Elven beauty this morning.

 

“If you continue to eat like you are now, you won’t be flitting around on those wings of yours for long,” shot Vetica.

 

“Oh… if only.. well I mean that is odd to think about but… I really wouldn’t mind having some real curves you know?” L’vi grinned coquettishly. “I’ve always wanted something to hold on to. But this never seems to stick to me.” She patted her obscenely swollen belly.

 

Vetica’s eyes went wide. It did not seem physically possible for a person’s stomach to bloat like that just from eating. Her hand had gone to her own soft paunch while l’Vi was talking. It was straining against her robe. She’d had to enchant the knot this morning just to be sure her belly would stay contained. She really couldn’t believe how fat she was getting. Would not believe it really.

 

“You are very, very strange.”

 

“Oh. Come on. Look at all these gorgeous girls, worrying their pretty little heads about a few pounds here and there. Why should they fret about a thing like that when there are such decadent delights to be had.” l’Vi polished off the last of a cinnamon roll the size her own head.  

 

Vetica just shook her head. She’d been in the court of the Red Empress for a few years now. She knew that people like l’Vi existed. Chubby chasers. Fat Fetishists. Feeders. But she’d never met someone so casually… open about her desires. It was disorienting.

 

Another lull. But it somehow wasn’t so awkward now. L’Vi had her hands on her stomach and she was massaging it unconsciously. She’d finished off her mountain of food and she’d noticed that Vetica had let some of her own tower, still impressive even after l’Vi had knocked some of it over earlier, fall onto l’Vi’s tray. L’Vi had taken extra delight in gobbling up those treats.

 

She looked around the room. There was that innocent looking Frost Giantess again. L’Vi might be small for an Angel Born, but that girl was real runt! L’Vi felt a pang in her heart looking at her from across the room. She looked so sweet and naïve. As much as l’Vi felt like a fish out of water here, she had been somewhat trained to get by among the quality of the 101 Kingdoms. She felt a kinship with this beautiful Giantess, so obviously out of her element. L’Vi would have to try to talk to her. She always felt a bit more focused in life when she was helping someone else navigate a difficult situation.

 

Although she certainly had enough on her own plate to worry about. Well. Actually, she had cleaned her plate and a bit of Vetica’s.

 

Vetica was rising from her seat.

 

“Going for seconds?”

 

Vetica’s eyes narrowed. “I think that we’ve both had more than enough. You do realize that they let us eat multiple times a day? Every day?”

 

L’Vi’s face flushed. She really needed to find the line with this one.

 

Vetica gave her look as if to say “you’re hopeless,” and turned to walk away. L’Vi wondered for moment what she was supposed to do with her tray, realized that she was not a junior academic here, but a member of The Quality who was not to concern herself with such things, and hurried to catch up with Vetica. She paused for a moment to admire the plump cleric’s butt jiggling under her tight robe. Vetica’s belly had swollen enough that the hem of the robe was now exposing a hint of cheek. L’Vi tried not to swoon.

 

“Shall we go to the baths together?”

 

Vetica let out light-hearted scoff. She turned to l’Vi, fixing her startlingly beautiful eyes on the young wizard. “L’Vi. I will admit that, despite myself, I find your company… not altogether unpleasant. However. We are not going to take a bath together. You will bathe in the Red Marble Pools with all of the other most junior ladies and I will bathe in a private room.”

 

“You bathe in a private room?” L’Vi was somewhat astonished. Perhaps Vetica was much more important than she’d thought.

 

“Well… It is… semi-private,” Vetica admitted. She paused. There really was something that she liked about this absolutely bizarre Angel Born wizard. “It is a different room from yours anyway.” She smiled at l’Vi, somewhat coolly, spun on her heels as gracefully as her stuffed belly would allow, and walked away.

 

***

 

L’Vi managed to find what she hoped was the correct bathing area on her own. She was relived to find that the “Red” in the Red Marble Pools was finally more of an accent color and that the marble was mostly white. She slipped out of her robe and handed it to portly middle-aged serving woman. As she turned to enter the Pools the woman stopped her.

 

“Pardon me m’lady, I know that you are new here because I don’t yet know you. I’m Finnoula. You should know that those in your condition are entitled to a private room, if you wish.”

 

L’Vi cocked her head, unsure of the woman’s meaning and eager to get a peek at the plump beauties she had just seen stuffing their greedy faces in the dining hall.

 

Finnoula immediately read l’Vi’s confusion and recognized her mistake. Her eyes went wide as she inadvertently glanced and l’Vi’s engorged, taut round belly. Never in her 30 years of service had she made such a mistake, and she’d seen more than her fair share of young-women stuffed near to bursting.

 

“Oh. Dear. Pardon me M’Lady. I’m afraid I mistook you for some--”

 

“Finnoula! Finnoula!” L’Vi was laughing now, recognizing the situation for what it was. “My fine woman you have nothing to worry about. You have paid me a fine compliment.” She had meant to put the woman at ease, but she could see that Finnoula was still altogether unsure of the situation.

 

“Finoula!” L’Vi gave the woman a warm smile, patted her truly pregnant looking belly, laughing “I’ve been a greedy little girl haven’t I my dear?” She laughed again and strode confidently into the pools.

 

She felt like she had strode right through the gates of heaven. Dozens of soft young courtiers ranging from barely chubby to downright fat were milling about in varying states of uncoveredness. The fatter they were the more likely they were to try to hide themselves with towels, or beneath the surface of sudsy water. But the fatter they were the more they had stuffed themselves at breakfast and the more they were too dazed to do a very good job of hiding their luscious plump flesh. L’Vi felt her knees go weak.

 

She got herself into the magically heated (and continuously cleansed) water before she passed out on the floor. She drank in the sights. The cute blond human soaping her enormous round breasts just cross from her. The Red-Headed Devil Blood just relaxing by the side of the pool with her torso fully out of the water, a soft potbelly poking out under her large perky chest.

 

She looked around for the Frost Giant but she must have missed her, because that one certainly wouldn’t be able to hide.  

 

L’Vi had to restrain herself from making eyes with any one of these goddesses. She was getting the sense that despite her quick thinking (and quick reflexes) getting her out of what could have been a disastrous situation with Vetica, this did not seem to the best morning in which to try to work her charms. She would just soak for a bit and take in the sights, letting the warm water ease her weary muscles and sooth her bloated gut…

 

After a good soak, a half hour at least, she was beginning to feel restored. She managed to tear herself away from the sight of a slender elf soaping the back of her fat human friend while the friend held her belly in her hands and moaned about getting to fat to marry her fifth-cousin who was set to inherit a castle in such-and-such a backwater that no one really cared about.  

 

L’Vi toweled off. She was, improbably, feeling a bit hungry again. But she had dawdled enough. She had to go back to her chambers, get dressed and get down to some kind of work.

 

Oh fuck, as DM I'm humbled to follow up on that! I will say, that since I"vi wants to gain, WILLPOWER to avoid OVEREATING can be waved if she wants.

Find Sam: that perverted dwarf was surely up to something...ROLL INTELLIGENCE, WILLPOWER AND IF THAT FAILS CONSTITUTION

Dummy Thicc curse: researching Malins super weapon would be a good use of her time. ROLL INTELLIGENCE

Princess ravena: she receives a message from her fellow Angel born, the svelte princess Ravenna! And it's too lunch! What ever could she want to discuss? Roll for OVEREATING, and INTELLIGENCE

Princess Simone: she receives a message from the devil born and slightly too curvy princess Ravenna, to go flying. What ever could she want to discuss? ROLL ATHLETICS AND INTELLIGENCE

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12 hours ago, Batman76 said:

SRSLY hot as hell writing on them, good work making the personalities really pop...

But while I'm writing Aurora's next chapter, here's some new rules that Flyer33 came up with in a private message in regards to eating and drinking contests.

"

1. Roll CON checks and report how many you pass before you fail. For each success, roll CON again or gain weight.

or 

2. Roll a fixed number of CON checks and report number of successes. Also roll the same number of CON checks and gain weight for each one failed."

We're gonna go with number 1..

Why is this relevent? Because to be a Sea Devil, Kayla is going to need to drink a lot of grog.

So just to start, Roll a D10 for Kayla, that's going to determine how many rounds of sugary, empty calorie booze she can drink. And then roll that number of Con checks. Then roll a con check for each failure. And for each time she fails...why that's a pound on those superior elven cheeks...

(Constitution!? Oh no! Kayla’s greatest weakness! Ooh, y’all fight dirty! 🤨 CON is currently 15. I roll a d10 and get 1 😈 now to see what happens while I’m at work)

Balla blinked at the dark elf’s stiff rejection, brows quivering as her fingers tapped against the bar.

”What do mean you don’t... it’s a free drink! I bought it for you! Who turns down a free drink? Abara! Can you believe what’s happening here?”

”Not for a second,” Abara’s massive palm rested against Kayla’s shoulder, making her quiver.

”See Kaeren? See what you’ve done to me? How am I supposed to trust you can be a Sea Devil if you can’t even drink like one?”

”She gonna learn today!” Abara chuckled.

”Well,” Kayla flexed her little hands into balls to calm her mounting anxiety. “As a matter of fact, I can, too, drink like a Sea Devil because I just had a drink already, so I really don’t need a... and my name isn’t Kaeren, it’s...”

But even as her butt squirmed against the stool, the red demoness was sliding the keg even closer to her, eyes gleaming like a hound that smelled blood.

”Look at me, Kay-bar. Eyeballs,” Balla leaned so close that her bare knee was prodding the elf’s inner thigh. “I am the captain now. I am your captain, and you’re my boot. You’re gonna drink this drink. Drink with me!”

Kayla glanced nervously at the keg — taller and larger than the one she’d just finished — wrapped her fingers around the cold, perspiring handle, and...

”Hey, what’s the matter?” Bella asked. “What are you staring at it for? It’s just a beer!”

”But it’s so much,” Kayla insisted. “Like, half a gallon...”

”Look, it’s either this or we try whiskey-boarding...”

Balla, no!” Cula’s eyes popped as she leaned over her comrade’s shoulder. “Do not haze the recruit! You mustn’t!”

”It isn’t!” Bella whined. “I did it, Abara did it... what’s that look supposed to mean?”

”No whiskey-boarding,” Cula nipped a leaf from the top of her fork. “Or you get no massage.”

”Ugh, whatever. So! There you have it, boot! You have to drink that beer now. Come on, raise it up... use both hands if you have to, damn! Okay, toast! To our new PFC — uh... Lance Corporal! Yeah, all that.”

”Yut!” Abara yelled suddenly.

”Rahhh?” Cula chimed-in.

Kayla tipped the foaming beer to her mouth, twitching her nose as the fizz tickled her muzzle, and began to drink.

(Rolled Con Save: 71, FAIL)

Two gulps later, and she parted her lips from the keg for a breather.

“Hey, what are you doing? Don’t put that down; we’re not done yet!”

”I just... need to slow down...”

”This is a toast, not a wine-tasting! Hurry up and finish it before you give us bad luck!”

Kayla did so, wincing at the sensation of fullness her stomach was screaming. The beer was darker than what she’d previously been served, and far richer in taste. In other words, it was the absolute worst combination of hard to guzzle and very, very filling. She struggled to keep pace with her new captain, nearly gagging at the overwhelming froth. With each forceful gulp, the pressure against her high-waisted white trousers increased. So full was her stomach, the full length of her belt could be felt on her distending middle, even as she desperately sucked-in.

”That’s it!” Abara slapped Kayla’s back, making her cough slightly. “Moto as all hell!”

”Motivation!” Cula added.

(Rolled Con Save: 52, FAIL)

(Kayla has gained one pound. She now weighs 111 — 5 pounds from her next Fat Point)

She hated this feeling — overstuffing herself till she felt as bloated as a tick. From her belt buckle down to the space between her legs, everything was skin-tight. No mortal could be expected to be stuffed so senselessly! And yet there were still a few, spare ounces to guzzle before it was over. She craned her neck, gagging through her nose slightly as the last remnants of froth trickled over her tongue. Even the back of her trousers began to feel snug, so bloated was her midsection.

When she was finally done, she could barely catch her breath. “That was...”

”Good job, Kay-bar,” Balla slapped her back. “Now you’re one of us forreal.”

The jarring impact made Kayla yelp, but it emerged as a belch that (thank the gods) relieved some of the pressure.

”O-oh,” Kayla groaned. “My stomach...”

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2 hours ago, Batman76 said:

Oh fuck, as DM I'm humbled to follow up on that! I will say, that since I"vi wants to gain, WILLPOWER to avoid OVEREATING can be waved if she wants.

 

 

Thank you! I'm flattered. I'm really loving exploring this world!

I'm going to go with

Princess Simone: she receives a message from the devil born and slightly too curvy princess Simone, to go flying. What ever could she want to discuss? ROLL ATHLETICS AND INTELLIGENCE

ROLL ATHLETICS: 20. Pass.

ROLL INTELLIGENCE: 16. Pass. 

I'm planning on writing a short bit to take her up to the meeting but I've got some work to do at the moment... Stayed up far too late writing last night!

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1 minute ago, >_< 0_0 said:

I did the math real quick and, like, even though Kayla only gained one pound, she’s closer to gaining another fat point than anyone else 😳 

I was trying to do that with the rules. The smaller you start, the bigger each pound is. Aurora has gained the most, will almost always over eat and gain weight from it but is still farthest from anyone.

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All right! L'Vi is off to meet princess Simone!

L’Vi felt like a brand-new woman as she strode out of the baths. She failed to notice Finoula looking absolutely gob-smacked by the slim figured Angel Born who emerged from the pools to collect her robe. If it weren’t for l’Vi’s distinctive silver-white hair and piercing blue eyes Finoula wouldn’t have recognized her. Well… maybe the wings would have given it away, but still! The wizard who emerged from the pool had a slim waist with only a hint of a bump from her inhuman binging only an hour or so earlier.

But l’Vi’s body was like a well-magiked machine. Her blessed metabolism was making all of that energy freely available through out her body. She felt as though she could fly all the way to Orange, pick up a couple of beer soaked plumpers at the Rusty Marshmallow and fly back to court with one under each arm. Her mind was focused and clear. Dozens of threads wove back and forth through her head, never tangling, never snagging. She could follow one and then another and then another without getting tied up and tripping over herself.

The sun streamed in through stained-glass windows in the staircase. Gorgeous depictions of the legends of the Red Empress which moved and morphed as she passed. Sam’s work no doubt… If not the images themselves then certainly he developed the glass that allowed the effect. She was here, she was finally here. Waves of excitement washed over her. She was feeling the significance of the situation for the first time since her arrival.

              She had been preparing herself to come to court since she scored the highest marks in the history of the 101 Kingdoms on her Wizarding Foundational Level Exams at 16. Most didn’t even attempt the exams and those that did were usually magical beings with plenty of time on their hands, waiting until they were in their third decades at least. Because to be a wizard you had to have knowledge. Not charm or piety or physical strength. Of course to be a real wizard you had to have the creative intelligence to apply that knowledge, but that is what you hopped to learn at university. And even if you didn’t you could have a long career cataloguing research and searching through ancient scrolls in lost languages…

              But l’Vi didn’t have to worry about that. She had that creative intelligence in spades. And she could feel her mind opening up to take in all of the information this place had to offer with each step she took down the hall towards her room.

              She found a haggard looking maidservant waiting at her door. The woman was of medium build, with graying hair and a harsh look on her face. This was a servant who looked as though had been around the block more times than she could count, and she was not the type to treat the new girls with kid-gloves.

              “Where have you been,” she hissed.

              L’Vi raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I—”

              “No matter. You have to get dressed; you are going to be late girl!” The maidservant pressed a slip of paper into l’Vi’s hands, before turning around and walking off muttering to herself in huff.

              L’Vi entered her chambers, unfurling the note as she closed the door behind her with one of her wings.

L’Vi O’Se, daughter of Aron, is to meet with Princess Simone at 11 o’clock above the Tower of the Wretched Monk.

 

Well. “Shit! Its past 10:30 already,” thought l’Vi. She tore her robe from her lithe body and raced to he wardrobe.

Red, right? It’s got to be red. But… That is her mother’s color… Was Simone’s color not black? Shit. But would that be too presumptuous? Surely it would. But not red either then. Gold… gold and white! For the prosperity and the glory of the 101 Kingdoms! Perfectly inoffensive. As much as she’d like to make a statement there simply wasn’t time.   

 

L’Vi’s favored style of dress was a long piece of fabric, worn draped over the shoulder and wrapped around her hips, partially exposing her slim tummy. Sometimes worn with a complimentary half shirt underneath. For a first audience with the Princess she would definitely need the half shirt.  She selected a gold number with a plunging neckline that fitted snugly to her largeish breasts. For the wrap-dress a pure white garment with gold stitching around the edges. Perfect. She looked fabulous.

She strode over to the windows and threw them open, feeling to sun streaming on her soft pale skin. She stepped out.

It really was great to have wings.

A reminder: My choice was

Princess Simone: she receives a message from the devil born and slightly too curvy princess Simone, to go flying. What ever could she want to discuss?

L'Vi rolled for INTELLIGENCE and ATHLETICS, passing both.

             

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So here’s a doodle of Kayla 👩🏾 🧝‍♀️  Don’t have time to draw the Sea Devils before gym, but standby for that.

Kayla is pictured at the peak of her ego, when she successfully floated after two hours of troubleshooting a spell written in terrible cursive. So high was her mood, she made a point of buzzing her entire village, laughing maniacally. Unfortunately, it was twilight hours, and her family grounded her for causing a panic.

Of special note is her family heirloom strapped against her side, a bag of unread spells, tight, white trousers, and stray strands of hair (which inexplicably tend to quiver when within a magical aura)

Her shirt, though plain, is as white as her trousers, the better to accentuate her undeniable perfection.

The song that inspired the doodle-session:

(I’m not a communist! I’m a politics major who concentrated on Africa 😭)

F9F60BB4-95B9-41F0-94C9-8BEC0177B92E.jpeg

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1 minute ago, >_< 0_0 said:

So here’s a doodle of Kayla 👩🏾 🧝‍♀️  Don’t have time to draw the Sea Devils before gym, but standby for that.

Kayla is pictured at the peak of her ego, when she successfully floated after two hours of troubleshooting a spell written in terrible cursive. So high was her mood, she made a point of buzzing her entire village, laughing maniacally. Unfortunately, it was twilight hours, and her family grounded her for causing a panic.

Of special note is her family heirloom strapped against her side, a bag of unread spells, tight, white trousers, and stray strands of hair (which inexplicably tend to quiver when within a magical aura)

Her shirt, though plain, is as white as her trousers, the better to accentuate her undeniable perfection.

The song that inspired the doodle-session:

(I’m not a communist! I’m a politics major who concentrated on Africa 😭)

F9F60BB4-95B9-41F0-94C9-8BEC0177B92E.jpeg

This is fabulous! I love the song! The drawing is so good! I've done some really rough sketches, hoping to make some time for something more polished this weekend.

 

 

3 minutes ago, Batman76 said:

Crap, my brain is too fried and my hands are too sore to write. Spectacular imagery from everyone today

Thank you! I've got an incredible amount of work to get through right now myself.

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On 9/23/2020 at 6:43 AM, flyer33 said:

Charisma roll: 21 / CHA 80. Pass!

"Come with me to the big, knightly ball later? A very reliable confidante of mine said it'll be the best one in years." Connie suggested innocuously, as she hauled herself to her feet and rubbed the bruise on her ass cheek. Oof, it was painful! No spanking sessions for a few days for Connie!

"Apparently they've doubled the food budget! Oh, and I know at least a dozen rich, handsome young noblemen are on the guest list! Could be good hunting! Or, if you're willing to pass on rich, and you just want to add a few memorable notches to your bed post... How would you like me to introduce you to a couple of strong young knights who are so well endowed even I found them quite a challenge? Well, I mean, as a duo they were a challenge!" Connie added.

"Ball? Double the food budget? Notches?" Cara snorted haughtily. "Still thinking with your stomach and your loins, I see, Connie! No wonder I beat you so easily!"

Connie smiled inwardly. Cara might enjoy sneering over Connie's hearty appetite for food and men - but so had her little sis', Carrie, prior to blowing up into an absolute PIG! Connie was pretty sure the lustful appetites of the Decollage women lurked under her cousin Cara's rock hard exterior. Hell, it seemed quite likely that all the time Cara spent pumping iron, until her rock-hard thigh muscles bulged through her tights, was just working off sexual frustration from her comparatively meagre list of successes with men (well, meagre compared with the international bed-hopper that was Connie). Or perhaps it was a lack of success with women that spurred Cara to such efforts! Now there was a thought! Not that Cara didn't like men. In fact, Connie had noticed Cara surreptitiously lick her lips when Connie mentioned the possibility of snagging a well-hung duo

"Not at all, Cara!" Connie denied. "I was just thinking it would be an absolute crime to deny the knights of the realm the chance to admire you! A new Colonel - they might die in battle under your command, Cara. The least you could do is flash a little cleavage in their direction first..."

Cara seemed to be looking for an excuse to decline. Connie was pretty sure there wasn't one, so she let her cousin think while they removed their chainmail and heavy padding. "Well, Colonel?"

"I think you're just looking for an excuse to stuff your face!" Cara said disdainfully. 

"Who says I won't? But we're talking about whether you'll come to the ball, Cara! What's your answer to that? Surely you don't want to refuse to meet  your handsome, rich knights? After all, it's important for an officer to get to know her men as well as possible! Or so I've always said..."

Cara grumbled her reply. Connie took it for a, "yes."

"Great! Now, let's go and discuss our ball gowns over lunch! Don't look at me like that, Cara! I know a new salad bar we can go to. I've worked up quite an appetite from all that duelling, and I need to take in some good nutrition to help heal my poor, bruised bottom! And, Cara, you really must let me buy you a meal - and good wine - by way of belated congratulations for your wonderful promotion to Colonel!" 

Connie neglected to mention that the salad bar in question just happened to be renowned for the delicious, oily vinaigrettes  and fattening dressings with which it slathered its wholesome greens and fruits. It was quite possible Cara wouldn't notice. And perhaps a few calories would take the edge off the crop-haired officer's temper. If so, it would be all the better for her prospects of seducing a couple of handsome knights tonight! And if Connie could get that done early in the evening, then she get on with her own task of snagging a rich boyfriend with a huge package of... land. After all, those lucrative heirs her mother kept mentioning weren't going to make themselves, and if Connie was going to be in the principality for much longer then the excuse of a "fertility diet" - not that her full hips were in any real need of one - would be just the ticket to escape the beastly, waistline-minimising regimes enforced by her countrywomen! 

Having complained about Connie's missing her promotion ceremony, Cara was not in a position to turn down the offer of lunch and wine, even though a meal with Connie was sure to be very bad for her physical regimen! Instead, she decided to snark about their great aunty's inheritance, and how Cara was looking forward to the best share. 

"Yes, all the rich foods from our family lands really are amazing, aren't they?" Connie replied. "Whoever inherits the best land is going to be able to eat herself sick on a regular basis! I just hope your tummy can handle it, Cara! I know mine could, but I guess I'll just end up in that spooky old castle, practically starving and barely needing a corset, while you'll be staggering to bed and busting seams on your lingerie every night after the most colossal feasts! I hope you'll invite me for dinner from time to time!" 

The Decollage cousins arrived at the Greedy Slug salad bar, where Connie proceeded to order a very big meal.

 

 

After a morning of getting her butt kicked, Connie was only too happy to try and stuff her cousin to her very gills.

"Really Cara, try the double fried ice cream with the chocolate caramel coating, its too die for!" Connie said, pushing over a massive pile of calorific delicacies towards her cousin, "it's all simply to die for!"

The decorated officer could do little more than moan, her face green with over consumption and her muscular flat stomach absolutely packed to bursting. Cara's sword belt was off and a considerable gap was showing between her taut trousers and padded jacket, her muscles streched over four or five thousand calories of food. She might have beaten Connie like a drum earlier but now the crew cut colonel would struggle to fend off an inquisitive goblin thanks to the calorie bombs planted into her over the long course of a dinner!

Instead of eating though, Cara did nothing but groan, leaving Connie to shrug and gorge on the fattening desert herself.

"Well I did just leave fat camp...," she mused to herself.

....

The rest of the diplomat's afternoon didn't go quite so well.

After a long hot bath to aide the digestion, Connie had her preferred gown taken out of mothballs and prepared. She called it the "Sure Thing" a delightful strapless, backless, sequined white ensemble held up with a minor enchantment that went perfectly with her golden hair, tan skin and vavoom figure. Unfortunately the dress had been tailored for Connie's debut nearly a decade before and fresh from Fat Camp the Knightess might be, she simply wasn't that skinny anymore, too much of the family's name sake cleavage and curves having piled up in the chest and hips.

"Oh my, this strains the very bonds of decency and incredulity," de'Collage whistled to herself, stunned by the sheer amount of de'Collage on display, "...so it will certainly be perfect at the party. I'll just have to watch what I eat so I don't make a scene...well, more of one anyway..."

Once her hair was up and her make up done, riding to the local fortress simply wouldn't do. No it was time to pull the luxury coach out of the stable, hitch it to her best horses and ride to the ball in a style that wouldn't pop a stitch! By the time she arrived the ball was starting, blue clad officers and their ladies filling up the large ball room at the castle.

Yet as she filled up a plate with enough treats to keep her going for the next little bit, the blonde diplomat kept her eyes out...

Straight to the Top: the Brigade's commander is a little older than Connie but well decorated and a landowner...a man with an eye for cleavage.

Something spicy: the attached regimental sorcerer might be younger than Connie by five years but damn, those tight leather pants show his charisma! And as he cast an eye at her well laden plate, Connie detects feeder tendencies too...

Eyes on the Prize: a little side action was fine, but Connie's goal was to see Cara repaid for the days humiliation with a ring on a chubby finger and a big, pregnant gut. Where did that little war hero get to?

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7 hours ago, Batman76 said:

After a morning of getting her butt kicked, Connie was only too happy to try and stuff her cousin to her very gills.

"Really Cara, try the double fried ice cream with the chocolate caramel coating, its too die for!" Connie said, pushing over a massive pile of calorific delicacies towards her cousin, "it's all simply to die for!"

The decorated officer could do little more than moan, her face green with over consumption and her muscular flat stomach absolutely packed to bursting. Cara's sword belt was off and a considerable gap was showing between her taut trousers and padded jacket, her muscles streched over four or five thousand calories of food. She might have beaten Connie like a drum earlier but now the crew cut colonel would struggle to fend off an inquisitive goblin thanks to the calorie bombs planted into her over the long course of a dinner!

Instead of eating though, Cara did nothing but groan, leaving Connie to shrug and gorge on the fattening desert herself.

"Well I did just leave fat camp...," she mused to herself.

....

The rest of the diplomat's afternoon didn't go quite so well.

After a long hot bath to aide the digestion, Connie had her preferred gown taken out of mothballs and prepared. She called it the "Sure Thing" a delightful strapless, backless, sequined white ensemble held up with a minor enchantment that went perfectly with her golden hair, tan skin and vavoom figure. Unfortunately the dress had been tailored for Connie's debut nearly a decade before and fresh from Fat Camp the Knightess might be, she simply wasn't that skinny anymore, too much of the family's name sake cleavage and curves having piled up in the chest and hips.

"Oh my, this strains the very bonds of decency and incredulity," de'Collage whistled to herself, stunned by the sheer amount of de'Collage on display, "...so it will certainly be perfect at the party. I'll just have to watch what I eat so I don't make a scene...well, more of one anyway..."

Once her hair was up and her make up done, riding to the local fortress simply wouldn't do. No it was time to pull the luxury coach out of the stable, hitch it to her best horses and ride to the ball in a style that wouldn't pop a stitch! By the time she arrived the ball was starting, blue clad officers and their ladies filling up the large ball room at the castle.

Yet as she filled up a plate with enough treats to keep her going for the next little bit, the blonde diplomat kept her eyes out...

Straight to the Top: the Brigade's commander is a little older than Connie but well decorated and a landowner...a man with an eye for cleavage.

 

 

 

Connie savoured a spoonful of potato salad while she surveyed the ballroom and planned her evening.

The impressive package that was so tightly wrapped in the handsome young sorcerer’s tights would have induced a younger Connie, back when she’d been a debutante, to make a beeline in his direction and ply him with attention until she secured an invitation to his bedchamber for an evening of hard riding… But, as an experienced and somewhat more mature diplomat, Connie had experienced bigger, on many occasions – and vastly bigger, in the case of her recent mission to frost giant lands! And the young sorcerer was likely not rich enough to make a promising match. Still, Connie smiled in his direction, and enjoyed the look on his face as she popped a whole boiled duck egg into her mouth and swallowed it in a single, practiced motion. Mmm! It was done to perfection.

Connie decided to devote most of her evening to charming the Brigade’s commander, a vigorous but older nobleman of her principality who was typically away from court – either on campaign or overseeing his large dairy estates – whenever Connie was around, so she only knew him slightly. But she knew well enough that his lands and income were the sort of thing Connie’s mother would approve of. Before heading in his direction to initiate an evening of seduction, however, Connie worked the ballroom a little, making a few new acquaintances and renewing some old ones. Delightfully, one of her friends who so happened to be at the knightly ball, and who was staring hungrily at the ball’s vast buffet table as Connie approached with a quip on her lips, was the Baroness Delicia deRière.

Baroness Delicia deRière was Connie’s opposite number – in almost every possible sense. The Baroness hailed from the fat-friendly Duchy of Embonpoint. She, like Connie, was a senior diplomat and an accomplished seductresses, and they had become fast, although sarcastic, friends as they frequently crossed-paths on the diplomatic circuit. Their friendship had been helped along by the fact that Connie was the roaming representative of a court which enforced strict standards of skinniness at home, who spent most of her time flaunting her curvaceous figure and golden hair on missions to fat-friendly foreign courts; whereas Delicia was the raven-haired, naturally-chubby but now ultra-lean ambassador of one of those fat-friendly courts, who had secured her position by starving herself skinny (everywhere except her pert bust) to impress her Duke, whose preference was for women far slimmer than the fat nobleladies of his court! Delicia’s Duke assigned her primarily to courts that demanded strict skinniness from their noblewomen. This meant Connie and Delicia tended to pursue different targets, so they seldom trod on each other’s toes and, in fact, frequently compared notes when they crossed paths at mixed courts – such as the Red Empress’s, for example.

“Delicia! That dress looks absolutely spectacular! You must give me the name of your seamstress!” Connie enthused.

The Baroness’s dress was of diaphanous blue silk, with a low-cut square neckline and cinched by elaborate silk strapping which showcased it’s wearer’s exceptionally lean and fat-free body. It hung off Delicia’s figure, and emphasised her long, lean limbs as she moved… Connie could practically hear the poor girl’s tummy rumbling – although it wasn’t actually – as the formerly chubby diplomat stared lustfully at the vast array of pastries, meats, and heavy foods on offer to the ball’s guests.

“Connie!” Smiled Delicia, before a sarcastic look crossed her pretty face… Sarcastic retorts were one of the few things sufficiently non-fattening that they were allowed to cross Delicia’s lips.

“Thank you for the compliment, Connie, but I’m afraid there wouldn’t be any point! Madame du Floofe is my dressmaker… But she only works with the finest silks, and, alas, she says that it would be an insult to her fabrics to use them in so large a quantity as to make a dress with a waistline over 24 inches. So, I’m afraid you could never fit into any of her masterpieces! Although you are looking thinner than usual, this evening! Fat Camp, again?”

Connie made a sour look at the mention of Fat Camp.

“Ugh! I swear those beastly Fat Camp diets get worse every year! Three tiny servings of food a day – I wouldn’t even call them snacks – and I can’t wait for another mission abroad so I can eat properly again!”

Baroness Delicia deRière eyed Connie’s half-eaten but still amply-laden plate with envious eyes.

“I’d hardly say you’re undereating to the point of wasting away, Connie. In fact, I remember when you used to be able to almost fit yourself into that Sure Thing dress of yours! How you thought you could get away with it tonight, I don’t know!”

Connie licked her lips with a, “Mmm, mmm,” as she savoured a small cherry tart with far more gusto than was polite, given that she was eating in the presence of a very hungry woman.

“I don’t know what you mean, Delicia! This dress fits perfectly! And… It’s never let me down yet! In fact, I’ve probably been hammered by more sexy studs thanks to this dress than you’ve had hot desserts!”

Delicia huffed. She wasn’t really angry – she was enjoying the chance to vent over her mandatory diet, and trading insults with Connie was a nice distraction from the hunger of her inner fat girl.

“Hot desserts? The chance would be a fine thing, Connie! Look at all this fucking food, everywhere, taunting me! But if I take so much as one little forkful of cake, or a spoonful of rice, then, bam: with my fat-girl metabolism I’ll wake up tomorrow seven pounds fatter! I don’t know how you do it, Connie! You eat like an ox, and… Well, you’re frankly fleshy, but you’re nothing like as fat as you deserve!”

“Mmm.” Connie ate. “Well, if you want my advice, Delicia, you should eat up, put on the curves, and bag yourself a rich man with a fat fetish… Be a shame about Madame du Floofe’s dresses, but your vanity is keeping you hungry and miserable!”

“Ugh! My vanity…” Delicia swished her beautiful dress, to show off the fact she wasn’t carrying an ounce of bodyfat anywhere other than her bust. “Keeps me in a very well paid and respected post, and, gets me bedded by more hot studs than you could imagine.”

Munch. “Doubt it. ‘ve gotta pretty good memory.”

“Oh yeah? How many hot studs did you bed on your last mission, then, Connie?” Delicia asked competitively.

Connie counted mentally, then swallowed.

“Four.”

“Hah! Practically frigid! I bedded eight, all knights!”

“I didn’t finish. Four studs, one knightess, and… One seriously over-endowed male frost giant!”

Delicia’s jaw went slack. She’d heard about the success of Connie’s trade mission to the mountains, but hadn’t credited it.

“No!”

“Yep.” Connie said after finishing a mouthful of meatball. Impressively, she was eating without spoiling her lipstick or dropping a thing – diplomatic training! Delicia almost drooled.

“What was it like? How did you…”

“Heh.” Connie said. “I’ll tell you another time. Let’s just say it’s good that the Jotun mountain range is an easy place to get an icepack... I was sore for hours! And it took me days to get back to my usual... Tightness!”

Delicia sighed.

“Oh, Connie! I’m so jealous!” Said the skinny diplomat. “Say, could you do me a favour?”

“Oh, sure!” Connie said. “I don’t really keep count any more. We’re about even, I think. Whatcha want?”

“Connie…” Delicia implored. “Could you tell me what the lemon tart tastes like?”

Connie glanced over the buffet. There were lemon tarts. And lime ones, and orange, and apple…

“I don’t know, Delicia. I haven’t tried one. I’m, um, trying to eat a little sensibly tonight… This dress is actually a little bit tight, after all!”

Baroness Delicia deRière made an unhappy sound. “Oh.”

“Why, Delicia?”

“Oh. It’s just… Lemon tarts just like those were my absolute favourite! But I can’t try one now… I can’t! Because if I do I know I won’t be able to stop at just one! And I can’t afford to get fat! I’d lose my position, if the Duke found out!”

“Oh. That’s bad.”

“Yes! But if you tried the lemon tart, Connie, and described what it tastes like to me, exactly, I’d be so grateful!”

Connie shrugged. This would be probably the easiest task in the history of diplomacy. She reached for a lemon tart, and popped it in her mouth.

“No, Connie!” Delicia moaned. “One little bit at a time!”

“Oh.” Connie gulped the tart – pretty delicious – and took another, this time to nibble. She duly described the sweet, soft pastry and the citron tartness in order. Delicia moaned at the description, and looked like her panties would be growing wet – if she’d been wearing any under Madame du Floofe’s dress, which Connie thought was unlikely.

“Any more?” Connie asked.

Delicia’s expression begged for more.

“You want to know about the lime tarts, and the orange tarts, and the apple tarts, right?” Connie deduced.

“Mmm. Yes please!” Delicia pleaded. Connie shrugged again.

“Okay! But my waistline is going to be spoiled by you, before I even start seducing yonder rich Commander.” Connie said. “So… You’ll have to do me a little task in return.”

“Anything! Just tell me about the tarts!”

“Great.” Connie said. “So, you know my cousin, Cara. Blonde like me, but cropped hair. Shorter. Legs that could crush an oak tree?”

“I know her.”

“Okay. I’d like you to steer her towards that sexy brigade sorcerer over there. The one with the---“

“Oversized package.”

“Yep!”

“Why?”

“Oh.” Connie explained innocently. “He seems quite charming. Might be a feeder. I think she’d have a nice time with him, that’s all. Okay?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Delicia assented, as she piled mid-sized tarts onto an extra plate for Connie. “Now, open wide, but don’t gulp!”

 

---

 

A bit later, Connie strode confidently towards the Commander. Her poise was excellent – but she was sucking in a little. Not because she was at all fat! But she had packed away two large platefuls of tarts: her friend, Delicia, had been hungry, and she’d clearly been badly in need of the vicarious enjoyment of having Connie savour the fattening tarts. So Connie’s tummy was a bit swollen, and sucking in a bit was the best way to ensure her exquisite dress wasn’t put under undue strain… Nothing Connie hadn’t done plenty of times before.

“Good evening, Lord Syrrup.”

Connie introduced herself to the Commander with a tiny curtsey. She was a countess, so she could get away with the very minimal gesture – and, more to the point, her dress seams were straining and she couldn’t risk anything deeper.

“I don’t believe we’ve really met! Whenever I return to court from diplomatic missions, you’re so often away on one of your bold campaigns – or looking after your famous dairy estates! Perhaps this evening is the time for us to finally get to know one another?”

Lord Syrrup had spent most of Connie’s introduction – and all of her curtsey – observing the way the gorgeous blonde diplomat’s breasts were wobbling and threatening to escape the confines of her backless, strapless dress. He seemed to enjoy the sight.

“But first, My Lord.” Connie suggested. “Perhaps we should get a little dessert from the buffet? There’s such a huge spread tonight, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if we took a selection of it to enjoy somewhere more… secluded. That is… if you think I can risk dessert tonight?” Connie patted her boobs. “ I do find that anything with cream tends to go straight to my bosom, and I have a figure to maintain… After all, my mother does say how important it is I maintain my figure until I finally manage to find the right, rich nobleman to settle down with an produce her an heir or seven!”

Lord Syrrup emitted a throaty sound… Hopefully that was a good thing! Connie continued.

“What do you think, My Lord? Do you think I can have a bit of pudding?”

---

 

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Connie's opposite number, just for reference as an NPC.

 

Name: Baroness Delicia deRiere

Race: Human (+10 Cha, +10 Ath, -10 Int, -10 Con)

Class: Rogue

Age: 27

Height: 5’10’’

Starting Weight: 139 lbs

Current Weight: 139 lbs

Hit Points: 10

ATHLETICS: 20 +20 +10 = 50

CONSTITUTION: 30  - 10 = 20

INTELLIGENCE: 50 + 10 -10 = 50

WILLPOWER: 40 -10  = 30

CHARISMA:  60 +10 +10 = 80

FAT-FETISH   72 /.  NORMIE: 80

FAT POINTS: 20, Normal. 7 lbs per Fat Point

FAT FEATS: Gotta Get Thin; Slow Metabolism

Bonds:

du Floofe creations (minor): fabulous fashions that provide +10 to impress NORMY / THIN preference characters, provided the wearer has a FAT score of 21 or less

Diplomatic influence (minor): +10 to influence a diplomatic contact, in return for a previous (or future) favour.

Tart lore (minor): +10 on checks regarding knowledge of calorific pastries, or persuading others to OVEREAT

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1 hour ago, flyer33 said:

 

 

Connie savoured a spoonful of potato salad while she surveyed the ballroom and planned her evening.

The impressive package that was so tightly wrapped in the handsome young sorcerer’s tights would have induced a younger Connie, back when she’d been a debutante, to make a beeline in his direction and ply him with attention until she secured an invitation to his bedchamber for an evening of hard riding… But, as an experienced and somewhat more mature diplomat, Connie had experienced bigger, on many occasions – and vastly bigger, in the case of her recent mission to frost giant lands! And the young sorcerer was likely not rich enough to make a promising match. Still, Connie smiled in his direction, and enjoyed the look on his face as she popped a whole boiled duck egg into her mouth and swallowed it in a single, practiced motion. Mmm! It was done to perfection.

Connie decided to devote most of her evening to charming the Brigade’s commander, a vigorous but older nobleman of her principality who was typically away from court – either on campaign or overseeing his large dairy estates – whenever Connie was around, so she only knew him slightly. But she knew well enough that his lands and income were the sort of thing Connie’s mother would approve of. Before heading in his direction to initiate an evening of seduction, however, Connie worked the ballroom a little, making a few new acquaintances and renewing some old ones. Delightfully, one of her friends who so happened to be at the knightly ball, and who was staring hungrily at the ball’s vast buffet table as Connie approached with a quip on her lips, was the Baroness Delicia deRière.

Baroness Delicia deRière was Connie’s opposite number – in almost every possible sense. The Baroness hailed from the fat-friendly Duchy of Embonpoint. She, like Connie, was a senior diplomat and an accomplished seductresses, and they had become fast, although sarcastic, friends as they frequently crossed-paths on the diplomatic circuit. Their friendship had been helped along by the fact that Connie was the roaming representative of a court which enforced strict standards of skinniness at home, who spent most of her time flaunting her curvaceous figure and golden hair on missions to fat-friendly foreign courts; whereas Delicia was the raven-haired, naturally-chubby but now ultra-lean ambassador of one of those fat-friendly courts, who had secured her position by starving herself skinny (everywhere except her pert bust) to impress her Duke, whose preference was for women far slimmer than the fat nobleladies of his court! Delicia’s Duke assigned her primarily to courts that demanded strict skinniness from their noblewomen. This meant Connie and Delicia tended to pursue different targets, so they seldom trod on each other’s toes and, in fact, frequently compared notes when they crossed paths at mixed courts – such as the Red Empress’s, for example.

“Delicia! That dress looks absolutely spectacular! You must give me the name of your seamstress!” Connie enthused.

The Baroness’s dress was of diaphanous blue silk, with a low-cut square neckline and cinched by elaborate silk strapping which showcased it’s wearer’s exceptionally lean and fat-free body. It hung off Delicia’s figure, and emphasised her long, lean limbs as she moved… Connie could practically hear the poor girl’s tummy rumbling – although it wasn’t actually – as the formerly chubby diplomat stared lustfully at the vast array of pastries, meats, and heavy foods on offer to the ball’s guests.

“Connie!” Smiled Delicia, before a sarcastic look crossed her pretty face… Sarcastic retorts were one of the few things sufficiently non-fattening that they were allowed to cross Delicia’s lips.

“Thank you for the compliment, Connie, but I’m afraid there wouldn’t be any point! Madame du Floofe is my dressmaker… But she only works with the finest silks, and, alas, she says that it would be an insult to her fabrics to use them in so large a quantity as to make a dress with a waistline over 24 inches. So, I’m afraid you could never fit into any of her masterpieces! Although you are looking thinner than usual, this evening! Fat Camp, again?”

Connie made a sour look at the mention of Fat Camp.

“Ugh! I swear those beastly Fat Camp diets get worse every year! Three tiny servings of food a day – I wouldn’t even call them snacks – and I can’t wait for another mission abroad so I can eat properly again!”

Baroness Delicia deRière eyed Connie’s half-eaten but still amply-laden plate with envious eyes.

“I’d hardly say you’re undereating to the point of wasting away, Connie. In fact, I remember when you used to be able to almost fit yourself into that Sure Thing dress of yours! How you thought you could get away with it tonight, I don’t know!”

Connie licked her lips with a, “Mmm, mmm,” as she savoured a small cherry tart with far more gusto than was polite, given that she was eating in the presence of a very hungry woman.

“I don’t know what you mean, Delicia! This dress fits perfectly! And… It’s never let me down yet! In fact, I’ve probably been hammered by more sexy studs thanks to this dress than you’ve had hot desserts!”

Delicia huffed. She wasn’t really angry – she was enjoying the chance to vent over her mandatory diet, and trading insults with Connie was a nice distraction from the hunger of her inner fat girl.

“Hot desserts? The chance would be a fine thing, Connie! Look at all this fucking food, everywhere, taunting me! But if I take so much as one little forkful of cake, or a spoonful of rice, then, bam: with my fat-girl metabolism I’ll wake up tomorrow seven pounds fatter! I don’t know how you do it, Connie! You eat like an ox, and… Well, you’re frankly fleshy, but you’re nothing like as fat as you deserve!”

“Mmm.” Connie ate. “Well, if you want my advice, Delicia, you should eat up, put on the curves, and bag yourself a rich man with a fat fetish… Be a shame about Madame du Floofe’s dresses, but your vanity is keeping you hungry and miserable!”

“Ugh! My vanity…” Delicia swished her beautiful dress, to show off the fact she wasn’t carrying an ounce of bodyfat anywhere other than her bust. “Keeps me in a very well paid and respected post, and, gets me bedded by more hot studs than you could imagine.”

Munch. “Doubt it. ‘ve gotta pretty good memory.”

“Oh yeah? How many hot studs did you bed on your last mission, then, Connie?” Delicia asked competitively.

Connie counted mentally, then swallowed.

“Four.”

“Hah! Practically frigid! I bedded eight, all knights!”

“I didn’t finish. Four studs, one knightess, and… One seriously over-endowed male frost giant!”

Delicia’s jaw went slack. She’d heard about the success of Connie’s trade mission to the mountains, but hadn’t credited it.

“No!”

“Yep.” Connie said after finishing a mouthful of meatball. Impressively, she was eating without spoiling her lipstick or dropping a thing – diplomatic training! Delicia almost drooled.

“What was it like? How did you…”

“Heh.” Connie said. “I’ll tell you another time. Let’s just say it’s good that the Jotun mountain range is an easy place to get an icepack... I was sore for hours! And it took me days to get back to my usual... Tightness!”

Delicia sighed.

“Oh, Connie! I’m so jealous!” Said the skinny diplomat. “Say, could you do me a favour?”

“Oh, sure!” Connie said. “I don’t really keep count any more. We’re about even, I think. Whatcha want?”

“Connie…” Delicia implored. “Could you tell me what the lemon tart tastes like?”

Connie glanced over the buffet. There were lemon tarts. And lime ones, and orange, and apple…

“I don’t know, Delicia. I haven’t tried one. I’m, um, trying to eat a little sensibly tonight… This dress is actually a little bit tight, after all!”

Baroness Delicia deRière made an unhappy sound. “Oh.”

“Why, Delicia?”

“Oh. It’s just… Lemon tarts just like those were my absolute favourite! But I can’t try one now… I can’t! Because if I do I know I won’t be able to stop at just one! And I can’t afford to get fat! I’d lose my position, if the Duke found out!”

“Oh. That’s bad.”

“Yes! But if you tried the lemon tart, Connie, and described what it tastes like to me, exactly, I’d be so grateful!”

Connie shrugged. This would be probably the easiest task in the history of diplomacy. She reached for a lemon tart, and popped it in her mouth.

“No, Connie!” Delicia moaned. “One little bit at a time!”

“Oh.” Connie gulped the tart – pretty delicious – and took another, this time to nibble. She duly described the sweet, soft pastry and the citron tartness in order. Delicia moaned at the description, and looked like her panties would be growing wet – if she’d been wearing any under Madame du Floofe’s dress, which Connie thought was unlikely.

“Any more?” Connie asked.

Delicia’s expression begged for more.

“You want to know about the lime tarts, and the orange tarts, and the apple tarts, right?” Connie deduced.

“Mmm. Yes please!” Delicia pleaded. Connie shrugged again.

“Okay! But my waistline is going to be spoiled by you, before I even start seducing yonder rich Commander.” Connie said. “So… You’ll have to do me a little task in return.”

“Anything! Just tell me about the tarts!”

“Great.” Connie said. “So, you know my cousin, Cara. Blonde like me, but cropped hair. Shorter. Legs that could crush an oak tree?”

“I know her.”

“Okay. I’d like you to steer her towards that sexy brigade sorcerer over there. The one with the---“

“Oversized package.”

“Yep!”

“Why?”

“Oh.” Connie explained innocently. “He seems quite charming. Might be a feeder. I think she’d have a nice time with him, that’s all. Okay?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Delicia assented, as she piled mid-sized tarts onto an extra plate for Connie. “Now, open wide, but don’t gulp!”

 

---

 

A bit later, Connie strode confidently towards the Commander. Her poise was excellent – but she was sucking in a little. Not because she was at all fat! But she had packed away two large platefuls of tarts: her friend, Delicia, had been hungry, and she’d clearly been badly in need of the vicarious enjoyment of having Connie savour the fattening tarts. So Connie’s tummy was a bit swollen, and sucking in a bit was the best way to ensure her exquisite dress wasn’t put under undue strain… Nothing Connie hadn’t done plenty of times before.

“Good evening, Lord Syrrup.”

Connie introduced herself to the Commander with a tiny curtsey. She was a countess, so she could get away with the very minimal gesture – and, more to the point, her dress seams were straining and she couldn’t risk anything deeper.

“I don’t believe we’ve really met! Whenever I return to court from diplomatic missions, you’re so often away on one of your bold campaigns – or looking after your famous dairy estates! Perhaps this evening is the time for us to finally get to know one another?”

Lord Syrrup had spent most of Connie’s introduction – and all of her curtsey – observing the way the gorgeous blonde diplomat’s breasts were wobbling and threatening to escape the confines of her backless, strapless dress. He seemed to enjoy the sight.

“But first, My Lord.” Connie suggested. “Perhaps we should get a little dessert from the buffet? There’s such a huge spread tonight, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if we took a selection of it to enjoy somewhere more… secluded. That is… if you think I can risk dessert tonight?” Connie patted her boobs. “ I do find that anything with cream tends to go straight to my bosom, and I have a figure to maintain… After all, my mother does say how important it is I maintain my figure until I finally manage to find the right, rich nobleman to settle down with an produce her an heir or seven!”

Lord Syrrup emitted a throaty sound… Hopefully that was a good thing! Connie continued.

“What do you think, My Lord? Do you think I can have a bit of pudding?”

---

 

Oh this is gorgeous.

First the typical over eating constitution roll for Connie's WG. But second, let's test a new system: clothing combat.

Connie's dress has 5 hit points. Roll a D12 to determine how many dishes Connie is going to eat. For every dish Connie eats, she'll need to roll an athletics check to keep her stomach sucked in enough. Should she fail, the dress loses a hit point and at 0.....RIP.

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3 hours ago, Batman76 said:

Oh this is gorgeous.

First the typical over eating constitution roll for Connie's WG. But second, let's test a new system: clothing combat.

Connie's dress has 5 hit points. Roll a D12 to determine how many dishes Connie is going to eat. For every dish Connie eats, she'll need to roll an athletics check to keep her stomach sucked in enough. Should she fail, the dress loses a hit point and at 0.....RIP.

Hehe!

Connie rolls CON with FAST METABOLISM (12,66) / CON 70, comfortable pass to pack away those tarts.

Now I've got to find a d12... Used a spreadsheet... Connie eats 6 dishes! Hell, she's greedy, so she tries for a seventh...

ATHLETICS rolls to keep her tummy sucked in enough: 45, 78, 01, 82, 29, 88, 14. Just one more dish... 85. Dress straining! Connie reduces her dress to 1 HP.

This sounds like a roll where "Frequent Feaster" might have been useful. 

 

"I hope you don't think I've eaten a little too much, My Lord?" Connie giggled. Somehow, her seam had only popped a few threads here and there.

 

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On 9/24/2020 at 11:26 AM, >_< 0_0 said:

(Constitution!? Oh no! Kayla’s greatest weakness! Ooh, y’all fight dirty! 🤨 CON is currently 15. I roll a d10 and get 1 😈 now to see what happens while I’m at work)

Balla blinked at the dark elf’s stiff rejection, brows quivering as her fingers tapped against the bar.

”What do mean you don’t... it’s a free drink! I bought it for you! Who turns down a free drink? Abara! Can you believe what’s happening here?”

”Not for a second,” Abara’s massive palm rested against Kayla’s shoulder, making her quiver.

”See Kaeren? See what you’ve done to me? How am I supposed to trust you can be a Sea Devil if you can’t even drink like one?”

”She gonna learn today!” Abara chuckled.

”Well,” Kayla flexed her little hands into balls to calm her mounting anxiety. “As a matter of fact, I can, too, drink like a Sea Devil because I just had a drink already, so I really don’t need a... and my name isn’t Kaeren, it’s...”

But even as her butt squirmed against the stool, the red demoness was sliding the keg even closer to her, eyes gleaming like a hound that smelled blood.

”Look at me, Kay-bar. Eyeballs,” Balla leaned so close that her bare knee was prodding the elf’s inner thigh. “I am the captain now. I am your captain, and you’re my boot. You’re gonna drink this drink. Drink with me!”

Kayla glanced nervously at the keg — taller and larger than the one she’d just finished — wrapped her fingers around the cold, perspiring handle, and...

”Hey, what’s the matter?” Bella asked. “What are you staring at it for? It’s just a beer!”

”But it’s so much,” Kayla insisted. “Like, half a gallon...”

”Look, it’s either this or we try whiskey-boarding...”

Balla, no!” Cula’s eyes popped as she leaned over her comrade’s shoulder. “Do not haze the recruit! You mustn’t!”

”It isn’t!” Bella whined. “I did it, Abara did it... what’s that look supposed to mean?”

”No whiskey-boarding,” Cula nipped a leaf from the top of her fork. “Or you get no massage.”

”Ugh, whatever. So! There you have it, boot! You have to drink that beer now. Come on, raise it up... use both hands if you have to, damn! Okay, toast! To our new PFC — uh... Lance Corporal! Yeah, all that.”

”Yut!” Abara yelled suddenly.

”Rahhh?” Cula chimed-in.

Kayla tipped the foaming beer to her mouth, twitching her nose as the fizz tickled her muzzle, and began to drink.

(Rolled Con Save: 71, FAIL)

Two gulps later, and she parted her lips from the keg for a breather.

“Hey, what are you doing? Don’t put that down; we’re not done yet!”

”I just... need to slow down...”

”This is a toast, not a wine-tasting! Hurry up and finish it before you give us bad luck!”

Kayla did so, wincing at the sensation of fullness her stomach was screaming. The beer was darker than what she’d previously been served, and far richer in taste. In other words, it was the absolute worst combination of hard to guzzle and very, very filling. She struggled to keep pace with her new captain, nearly gagging at the overwhelming froth. With each forceful gulp, the pressure against her high-waisted white trousers increased. So full was her stomach, the full length of her belt could be felt on her distending middle, even as she desperately sucked-in.

”That’s it!” Abara slapped Kayla’s back, making her cough slightly. “Moto as all hell!”

”Motivation!” Cula added.

(Rolled Con Save: 52, FAIL)

(Kayla has gained one pound. She now weighs 111 — 5 pounds from her next Fat Point)

She hated this feeling — overstuffing herself till she felt as bloated as a tick. From her belt buckle down to the space between her legs, everything was skin-tight. No mortal could be expected to be stuffed so senselessly! And yet there were still a few, spare ounces to guzzle before it was over. She craned her neck, gagging through her nose slightly as the last remnants of froth trickled over her tongue. Even the back of her trousers began to feel snug, so bloated was her midsection.

When she was finally done, she could barely catch her breath. “That was...”

”Good job, Kay-bar,” Balla slapped her back. “Now you’re one of us forreal.”

The jarring impact made Kayla yelp, but it emerged as a belch that (thank the gods) relieved some of the pressure.

”O-oh,” Kayla groaned. “My stomach...”

"...Will probably be able to take the sting of a Cobra Toad and likely won't run sour if we get stranded and have to drink cocnut water all day!," Balla laughed, each chuckle causing the devil born's enhanced crimson bust to bounce up and down.

Normally the sight of such uselessly, pointlessly large bosoms would be disgusting to Kayla. They were a sign of far too much excess fat, fed by an appetite that could only ruin the rest of the woman's body. But right now, since the room started spinning, Kayla's head suddenly feeling both empty and filled a thousand pounds of lead, laying her head down on a soft bust seemed so nice... As if in answer to silent prayers, Culla came over and sat next to her on the bench, the wood groaning faintly, and the elf felt her coffee colored cheeks redden to realize that the curvaceous cleric's hips were pressing tight into her own. For an elf Kayla was broad across the backside, something she'd been bullied for with calls of "Human Butt! Human butt!" as a child but she knew it was just to balance out her godly gifts of intelligence up top! If the same held true for Calla, she must be as smart as a goddess because her ass was bigger than a horse's!

"You're a horse butt," the very ** elf slurred, her lack of body fat to helpfully absorb the calories meaning the booze was going right to her brain.

"I'm sorry, what did you say? You seem very **, are you alright?" Culla asked, the more gentle Devil born sister asked her, "I'm sorry for my sister's little ritual..."

"Hey, a ritual like this will keep her alive! See, this boot is tough as old leather already!" Balla insisted, slapping Kayla on the back.

Kayla certainly liked to think she was tough but right now she was balanced on the edge of vomiting and passing out. The slap might have made her puke but the knock to her personal relationship with gravity caused her to fall sideways right into the fluffy, pillowy chest of Culla. Thank the Gods she stayed conscious to feel the embrace of cherry red cleavage, the soft breast swallowing the elf's slender face as the wizard went bright red from one set of cheeks to the other. Drunken mind realizing the impropriety of it, Kayla pushed upwards, one hand inadvertantly finding itself on Culla's lower stomach while the other palm landed right on the cleric's curvaceous butt.

It was like pushing into a marshmallow, the oldest Sea Devil was soft as suet beneath her robes, which thanks to the pressure from Kayla slid right down past the cleric's bely button. Culla was too shocked to do anything as her very plump razzmatazz rack was suddenly displayed, dark red nipples large and proud at the ends of bulging, cherry shaped breasts beneath a small, cushioned stomach. The sight of such a disgusting amount of bulk, just the breasts enough to mark Culla as someone totally without self control, would have normally made Kayla feel grossed out but with her brain on booze all she could think of was how soft cuddling up to all that demoness would be...

As she fell backwards off the bench.

....

Kayla woke up groaning, dazed, sore and a little puffy.

Her mouth felt like sand paper, the elf's genius brain was a sparking mess of a headache and the room seemed to be spinning. She put a hand to her stomach, frowning at finding the tiniest new layer of puff there. It wasn't much, and clearly wasn't fat as much as it was bloat from all that beer. Kayla frowned, hatred for all forms of fleshy indulgence that didn't include someone else's flesh boiling within, until she remembered the horrible events that had led her to where ever this was.

She'd somehow passed her initiation ritual with a real adventuring group, one that she was distinctly certain had bowed low to her clearly superior intellect, only for that cursed beer to over come her!

"Damnable human liquor and its fattening, stupefying properties," the hung over wizard groaned, trying to get up only to realize she was in a swaying hammock.

Getting out took a minute of work, with a pause to discover that her brown pants and white shirt had been removed, leaving her in just her underwear. Kayla wasn't much of a blusher but she went red with anger over the thought that someone might have robbed her, until her butt poked into the hilt of her dagger. Swirling around to find her clothes, knife and purse hanging on a hook. Getting dressed in the half light, Kayla could have sworn getting her pants over her butt was slightly harder than it should have been but had to dismiss it as her clothes not being properly laundered the night before. After all, she was not just an elf, but soon to be the most powerful and glamorous of all elves!

Sliding her knife belt on, Kayla left the small room to find she was on a small ship. Abarra manned the tiller, immense muscles standing out like cords as she fought a frightful river current. Jungle streamed by them on either side, loud with the noises of monkeys, insects, tigers and other animals. On the prow, Culla had rolled out a ratan matt and was unhappily doing sit ups while wearing very, very little. The miniscule panties and bra had been made for a curvy but slim woman, while Culla was borderline plump. Whenever she sat up a series of little rolls formed from her pelvis all the way up to her chin, while whenever she nearly collapsed back a series of jiggles shot through her body.

Kayla was of course disgusted by the display of chunkiness, unable to take her eyes off as she memorized every millimeter of Culla's bad discipline and tawdry diet...

"Ah, there's the lance corporal now!" Balla called, the busty devil born appearing from now where to haul Kayla towards a small table at the tiny ship's prow, "We're in need of just your particular set of skills to get this hulk of a new ship up river towards the temple!"

Mention of skills let the magician's eyes up as she was placed before a small device, "But of course you are! Only a wizard of my power can work the...what is this? Not that I don't know but I want to make sure that you know what you're asking me."

"This, why this...," Balla said, "A map of what you truly want as long as that can be shown on paper an enchanted vellum map that will lead the Sea Devils to their next set of booty! Which is in..."

The Temple of Ironic Greed: an ancient temple of a forgotten and rather trollish devil lord who delighted in ironic punishments, especially those coming at the cost of his victim's pride.

The Temple of Hidden Secrets: an ancient temple of a deity specializing in making people realize long hidden denials.

The Temple of Infinite Mead: home to the ancient cult of a long forgotten demon goddess of sweet, frosty honey wine that poured endlessly from a mithral and dragon bone drinking horn...perilous to those who like booze.

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(I had some time after work, so I took it as an excuse to write some character development 😈😈😈)

Balla frowned at the shifting ink of the enchanted map as she tried to think. "...in... it's in... fuck..."

"Wait a second," Kayla raised her little index finger. "If it shows the reader what she truly wants, then why aren't you reading it yourself?"

"I am reading it myself," Balla slapped the map with her palm. "It reveals itself to the closest body, but it's not working like it's supposed to."

"It says..." Kayla leaned over Balla's shoulder. "... 'make a U-turn.' Hold on... why's the arrow doing that? It's pointed straight around --"

"Alright, good to go!" Balla announced, loud enough to make Cula start from her sit-ups and cause Abarra to raise an eyebrow. "Kayla, you're the smart one! You do the LandNav! I'm gonna go inside and jerk-off..."

Kayla watched the red demoness stomp her way to the doors of the quarters under the poop deck and slam them shut. "Wait... did she mean what she said? Culla? What is she doing?"

"Well," Culla leaned back against her arms and crossed her legs. "I wouldn't see why not. Balla doesn't sugarcoat things."

"What?" Kayla's face flushed with heat. "Why would she do that? Why would she tell us?"

Culla sniffed thoughtfully, strumming the soft skin around her navel with two fingers. "I guess you are a dark elf, so you might not realize what it means to be half-demon."

"Our libidos are high as fuck," Abarra shrugged casually. "We can foreplay and orgasm for hours on end if we tried. Personally, I think I'd go crazy if I didn't relieve the pressure at least once a day."

"That's..." Kayla gaped. "That's..."

Before either demoness could respond, the door cracked open an inch. "Culla!" Balla's voice called. "Culla c'mere I need you! Can you massage my back? Please help me..."

With a defeated sigh, Culla stopped brushing her stomach and gave it a smack. "I'm coming... sit-ups can wait..."

Mouth wider than a bass fish's, Kayla watched the soft demon-girl saunter her way to her sister's side. Dawn was just beginning, and the red light shone against her crimson skin and made it glow like faint embers. The chaplain's curved, buttery thighs brushed lightly against each other with every step, and the full cheeks above them flexed and quivered as they gyrated like a pendulum. Still, the elf continued to stare in shock, every jiggle burned into her memory as her mind raced to comprehend just what a "massage" would entail. The last thing she saw was Balla's heavily-tattooed arm wrapping around her still-thin waist and gently pulling her inside before the door sealed shut once more.

"It's okay, sugar-peach," Abarra called from the helm.

"I-I don't know what to... my name is not 'Sugar-peach,'" Kayla spread her stance and put her hands on her hips. "You're all messing with me again! There's nothing else that can explain such debauchery!"

"Hey," Abarra smiled. "I promise we're cool. You wanna talk about it? Why don't you come up here? Stand next to me."

Kayla blinked, staring at the seven-foot, red-skinned woman before giving the map a glance.

"The map can wait," Abarra held her arm out invitingly. "This river's a one-way ticket and we're sailing about five knots. Come on. We'll talk about things... that's it... big devil on a little boat, I know. You can stand between me and the tiller. Don't worry, I won't hurt you."

Kayla had to duck under the woman's massive, muscled arm to find a place to stand. She had no doubt that Abarra was harmless, but that wasn't why she was shaking. Once again, she was under the twin-shadows of the warrior's impressive rack, a pair of round, perky breasts that were each the size and texture of drinking-bladders. Once again, Abarra's face poked into view from above them like the rising sun.

"Just the two of us," Abarra smiled. When Kayla didn't respond, she turned her attention to the fore, steering the rudder just enough for the boat to turn five degrees. "And it's a beautiful day. You'd think the jungle's too hot for fog, but it's so humid that vapor trails over the river like smoke. It'll be gone by the time the sun's rays touch them..."

"I can't believe what they're doing," Kayla stared at the vapors the warrior had mentioned, too shy to look anywhere else.

"It's a bit of a culture-shock, I think," Abarra replied. "You, a dark elf from the woods, joining a trio of demon girls... but we've got whitespace."

"Whitespace?"

"We've got time, I said. There will be plenty of time. You know, being a Sea Devil, nine times out of ten, it's 'hurry up and wait.' It's the rest that's the fighting and excitement. So with nothing else to do, you talk about booze, bitches, and booty."

Kayla shivered at the casual crassness. "I see."

"So, Kayla, what are dark elves into?"

"Dark elves?" Kayla had never dwelled on the concept of sex or sexuality. None of the boys in her village had come close to catching her interest; they were all far to dim-witted. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Heh. What about you? What do you find sexy? Oh... are you a virgin? How is that possible? You must be aching!

"Aching? The only thing aching is my head..."

"No, little one, that is not what I mean! My, but... I can't believe it! No sex drive -- none at all! Now that you mention it, I can sense this... that is something we half-devils can do. And so you are now with us! We can teach you the ways of the flesh... I haven't been this excited since I first lifted two-hundred pounds!"

"Learn what... sex? I know what that is. What could there possibly be to learn about something so simple?"

"Oh, that's where you're wrong!" Abarra laughed. "You have much to learn... but we must take baby steps. One step at a time. Tell me: who do you think is the sexiest among us?"

"On the ship? You mean, the most beautiful?"

"No, I mean the sexiest. Who would you wanna cuddle-up with the most?"

Once again, Kayla's face blushed hotly. Instantly, her mind concocted the image of Culla's hips swaying into the cabin below, and she could vaguely remember how her hands squished into her bulging butt and budding belly as her face sank into a soft, red valley of cleavage -- but as soon as the spark of desire lit itself, her ocean of intellect doused it with a deluge of logic.

"I'd say... I'm not to bad myself," Kayla nodded, folding her hands. "After all, as an elf, my skin is pure of blemish, and my hair flows cleanly like silk."

Abarra chuckled. "Typical... but you're not necessarily wrong. I was thinking of how sexy you are myself."

"What do you mean?"

"How 'bout I show you... do you trust me?"

"...yes?"

As Kayla's breath held and her heart pounded, Abarra took a hand off the tiller, tugged her shirt loose, and snaked her massive paw inside and palmed her B-cup-sized right breast.

"Does that do anything for you?" Abarra asked softly.

Kayla had spent years with her books, immersing herself within the pages in the search for knowledge and power, for something more than the boring, country life where she was taunted and bullied as a young elf. Her parents spent more time disciplining her after her escapades than otherwise. For all those years, she searched harder and harder for the missing elements in her life -- and now, suddenly, she realized what one of those was: intimacy.

"Ah, see?" Abarra's fingers kneaded softly. "You feel that? How your nipple stiffens like that? That means your body yearns for more."

"More?" Kayla whispered, holding Abarra's thick forearm.

"Just a little bit..." Abarra's fingers stroked back and forth, then in circles, until they were softly twisting the nipple. "Just like that. See how this is different from normal touch? When you do this, be very careful not to pinch --"

"Ah," Kayla winced at the sudden betrayal, but persisted. Her hips, already stiff, jerked backwards and up, bumping against the sides of massive quads.

"-- even though some people like it. And you might, but we're taking it easy... just a bit of squeezing and kneading. When you touch them, think of boobs like they're cake batter -- a fresh batch of chocolate cake batter..."

Kayla's mind snapped out of its funk. "Chocolate? Did you say... chocolate?"

Abarra's hand stopped moving. Unfortunately, this meant that Kayla's wits returned, and she wiggled away.

"What's wrong?"

"I am not chocolate cake!" Kayla balled her fists and stomped her foot. "I'm not any kind of chocolate!"

"Whoa, I'm sorry!" Abarra backed away by half a step. "I didn't mean to be racist or nothing..."

"It's not racist," Kayla shook her head. "But listen: I hate --"

"Okay, zero!" Balla called from just outside the door, Culla still by her side. "Okay, zero! Zero... why haven't you looked at the map yet? Look at the map right now!"

"Oh, right!" Kayla skipped away from Abarra's grasp and hurried back to the table.

"No, 'aye aye, captain!'" Balla pointed at her. "Whatever, I don't give a shit... what's the map say? What's it telling you?"

Kayla rested her palms against the table, leaning over the map and watched in awe as the ink shifted to reveal a terrain divided by a river, but in spite of such astounding detail, there was no arrow, and no destination.

"So where are we going, Katy-did?" Balla kept her distance to allow a proper reading.

"Um..." Kayla flexed her hips slightly, for her loins had become uncomfortable for some reason. "The ink hasn't settled!"

"Keep watching it," Culla said as she walked to the other side of the table. "Focus with your mind what you desire most. That's how we'll find a suitable ruin to plunder."

"What she said," Balla nodded, folding her arms.

Kayla did as she was told, her senses befuddled by the overwhelming amount of knowledge learned in Abarra's "lesson." It was hard for her to concentrate, but slowly, out of habit, her fantasy's came readily to mind: wealth, power, coin, knowledge, books, scrolls, magic, cake...

Not cake. Not cake! But power. Riches beyond her wildest dreams! An ancient temple ruin, untapped by centuries of war and looting, waiting to be discovered...

(The Temple of Infinite Mead: home to the ancient cult of a long forgotten demon goddess of sweet, frosty honey wine that poured endlessly from a mithral and dragon bone drinking horn...perilous to those who like booze)

"I got it!" Kayla said excitedly, nearly clapping her hands before suppressing the urge. "We're twelve miles away!"

"So we'll get there by noontime," Balla mused. "Easy day! You keep an eye on that map and tell us how to get there!"

"It says: 'in five-point-three miles, turn right at the fork...'"

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Name: Regina

Race: Demon-Blooded

Class: Rogue

Age: 24

Height: 5 feet

Weight: 105 Ibs

Hitpoints: 21

ATHLETICS: 54+5+20: 79

CONSTITUTION: 38+5: 43

INTELLIGENCE: 33+5+10: 48

WILLPOWER: 34+5-10: 29

CHARISMA:  64+5+10: 79

FAT-FETISH  71 /.  NORMIE: 79

FAT POINTS: 20, Normal. 6 lbs per Fat Point

FAT FEATS: RIVER IN EGYPT, SMALL FRAMED

Description: Regina is a young demon-blooded that is small being one of her race, her bright red thin slender body is, at first sight, seeming as rather petit and weak, but as people get closer they can see she has some curves and a trained body. The most eye-catching is her solid golden eyes and gute sheep horn that is darker yellowish-white that takes away how bad her short trimmed black hair is. She has large red batwings and a tall tail behind her

Shes told that she was born in an alley in the dukedom of Fornai, 101 kingdoms. In the beginning, a poor elderly beggar took mercy on her as she was an infant, left for dead by her mother for unknown reasons. But not for long a crime syndicate called The Firehawks toke her in to be learned as a pickpocketer and deceiving, she was rather successful in both, mostly because of her exotic looks and small body.

But it was a cold and cruel environment to grow up in, she usually only had herself to count on and few friends she could trust. But she survived and kept deceiving the richer women in the duchy.

Nowadays she scams young noblewomen and merchants daughters to rob them from their riches while having a good erotic time and feed them to rounds butterballs.

Bounds

The Firehawks, minor: the Firehawks is a big crime syndicate that operates in several duchies and kingdoms, Regina can make contact with them to get intel if the price is right, gets an advantage on intelligence roll when the price is paid

Jessie Wallbreaker, minor: Jessie Wallbreaker is a human barbarian that is freelancing around as a mercenary, she strong enough for 2 men together and had a bad habit of getting ** in the wrong time, wrong place, and have long time being Regina’s only friend in all kind of situations. Regina can ask for the help of Jessie once per week, getting +10 on a roll but she will need to join in Jessie’s parties after and gets -10 in WILLPOWER that evening as Jessie boss around Regina to join her feast

Expert feeder, major: in her younger teens she by accident witness an erotic feeding session between a noblewoman and a maid and got so hot and fascinated that she started to use it on her victims while she was deceiving them. Once per month If she has charmed a person she gets +20 to CHARISMA rolls on to make her victim OVEREAT, and it gets easier each time if repeated with the same person several months

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39 minutes ago, ulvrik said:

Name: Regina

Race: Demon-Blooded

Class: Rogue

Age: 24

Height: 5 feet

Weight: 105 Ibs

Hitpoints: 21

ATHLETICS: 54+5+20: 79

CONSTITUTION: 38+5: 43

INTELLIGENCE: 33+5+10: 48

WILLPOWER: 34+5-10: 29

CHARISMA:  64+5+10: 79

FAT-FETISH  71 /.  NORMIE: 79

FAT POINTS: 20, Normal. 6 lbs per Fat Point

FAT FEATS: RIVER IN EGYPT, SMALL FRAMED

I don’t think I’ve seen you write before 🤔 this should be interesting 

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