Chronicles of Weight Gain

[dog186]

Oooh, I'm loving this latest chapter.  Sexy evil lady? Check. Role reversal with fattener becoming the fattened? Check. Potential for magical shenanigans? Check.

 

Looking forward to the art and the rest of the story!

[>_< 0_0]

It’s been too long since I read one of these! I had to wait until sunset to makes this a true bedtime story- so relaxing.

It’s rare to have dudes in your stories for some reason, but I like this Lord Arse-in-Balls a lot. Reminds me of Warren Buffet the way he feeds a buffet to girls — I mean the way he makes net gains. Of profit. Yes.

[Batman76]

On 5/31/2021 at 12:04 PM, dog186 said:

Oooh, I'm loving this latest chapter.  Sexy evil lady? Check. Role reversal with fattener becoming the fattened? Check. Potential for magical shenanigans? Check.

 

Looking forward to the art and the rest of the story!

Why thank you! Those are some of my favorite traits too!

On 5/31/2021 at 9:25 PM, >_< 0_0 said:

It’s been too long since I read one of these! I had to wait until sunset to makes this a true bedtime story- so relaxing.

It’s rare to have dudes in your stories for some reason, but I like this Lord Arse-in-Balls a lot. Reminds me of Warren Buffet the way he feeds a buffet to girls — I mean the way he makes net gains. Of profit. Yes.

I feel you'll like him more at the end...

 

..

A formal engagement to a Prince raised Evelyn’s status immensely, but such a status brought new complications.

For one, she was now to live within the women’s quarter of the Royal Palace until the wedding. Although Weit-Gainberg’s religions had little care for virginity, it was accepted that the bride and groom would be separated for months before the ceremony, mostly out of old tradition. If she’d argued about it, the cultist could have probably gotten a quicker wedding but the long lived woman was losing her force of will alongside her wind.

Evelyn’s typical food pyramid of sugar, grease, meat, fried dough and ice cream was now hitting her full on, with disastrous effects. The wide hipped cultist was now always tired as her blood glucose tilted out of control and her muscles failed to acclimate to all the fat she was getting, making her sharp mind sluggish. Now she usually breathed through her mouth and often gasped as she developed asthma, while her load bearing ankles swelled whenever she stood up. Despite shoveling in ten thousand calories a day, the bloating beauty had no energy to argue.

In the Women’s Quarter she’d have no need to walk more than a hundred yards a day if she didn’t want to, a blessing for the waddling Evelyn. Unfortunately, the decadent food available in the Royal Women’s Quarter made the decadent feasts of the nobility seem like salad bars in comparison. Everywhere Evelyn’s opal eyes glanced there was something frosted or fried, smorgashboards of calorie laden, fat heavy, ultra greasy, hyper sugary food. 

Nor did her new neighbors help.

Queen Saraj the I was in her early fifties, hair kept as red and face almost as youthful by expensive alchemies as when she’d been a fearsome adventurer. But the middle aged monarch was otherwise unrecognizable as the valiant dragon slayer she’d been, a deed now credited to her husband as none could believe this tub of lard had ever conquered anything deadlier than a small staircase. Saraj’ healthy appetite had become a ravenous, unsatisfiable craving for food and the once ultra fit woman was now the laziest in the entire kingdom. Alone among Weit-Gainberg’s noble matrons, she’d never slimmed down enough to re-enter polite society as a curvaceous milf, the two sets of triplets she’d birth all conceived after she’d hit the 300lb mark, a measure now far behind her. Saraj ate from when she awoke at noon to when the King’s duties ended, allowing him to lavish his full attention on her which was often more feeding. And as a prospective mother in law, she demanded Evelyn join her every noontide for a feast big enough to kill a horse!

“Eat girl, eat. A little mite as skinny as you looks like you’ll blow away!” Saraj ordered, raising a puffy, smooth hand with a tiny cream puff held between two sausage thick fingers, “a girl as slender as you might snap beneath a son of mine!”

The swaying tree trunk of the Queen’s pale, smooth arm trembled under its own weight as she munched, feeding herself harder than killing a dragon had been. Saraj was round as a ball, with no hint of muscle or bone on her waterbed physique. Her eyes were buried in her piggish face, she had more neck fat than most women had breasts and her own bosoms were each the size of a prize winning pumpkin. Those still pert tits rested upon a gut wider than the former barbarian was tall and just as deep, collapsed into rolls deep enough to lose a sword in. Each of her cheeks was bigger than a war horse’s flank, with more cellulite craters than a castle wall after a catapult bombardment. Legs that had carried her to many a battle were now too wide and weak to walk, turned fully vestigial, for even if she could have stood her cankles spilled onto the floor over her feet. That she was alive and by all accounts healthy was testament to how well the King funded the royal alchemists.

“Oh, your highness I am far too full,” Evelyn burped from across the table, “and I hate to say this but I fear I will grow plump…”

The image the cultist projected was of a girl beginning to at last absorb Weit-Gainberg’s caloric avalanche. A slight touch of cherubic softness on her cheeks, a tiny but proud puff to her small breasts, rounding of her girlish hips into a seductive roundness and a cute little starter belly at the tight waist of her smart yet chaste gown, with her belt out a stretched notch to show she was growing. Evelyn hated even this small display of imperfection, but it was somewhat necessary that her apparent total immunity to weight gain drew a witch hunter’s attention. And she’d gathered that Archibald liked the little bit of weight she’d seemingly put on in the times they’d met since her moving into the palace and the desperate, depressed cultist needed every compliment she could get!

“Nonsense! A bride should be bulging and blush on her wedding day! I couldn’t even see my feet!” Saraj belched, beckoning a servant to pour a bottle of wine directly down her mouth, “people will think poorly of my hospitality if you go to the altar with but one chin! Your entire job is to be swollen with child and food girl, to demonstrate the wealth and dignity of the royal house in the portrait of obesity painted on the slender, delicate canvas your own family crafted! It's been months and you’ve barely gained twenty pounds!”

Evelyn had been at court the day Saraj had actually been married twenty five years earlier, knowing that the Queen was a muscular goddess with cheese grater abs and thighs that could crush a skull. Saraj wished to avoid her own downfall so thoroughly that she’d essentially erased any knowledge of her own heroism, even poo pooing her own daughter’s taking up the sword. But apart from giving away her history as a vile cultist, Evelyn knew if she opened her mouth, well food would go in and that was the last thing Evelyn needed.

The cult priestess’ illusory image was of a slim maid just starting to pad out but the real her was undeniably morbidly obese. Rather than the couple pounds a week it looked like she was picking up, Evelyn was really gorging on several pounds every single day! Her delicate features were obliterated by permanently reddened jowls, the priestess huffing and puffing even when sitting down. So much flab had piled onto her upper arms that the pillow softness had begun hanging over her elbows. Her swan like neck was covered by a multitude of chins, just as her lean collarbone had been buried by a blanket of lard. A lazy, double layered gut filled her lap, angry purple stretch marks across its turgid surface, while increasingly lazy breasts were only just nearing the c cup range.

But if her top half was obese, Evelyn’s lower half was laughable.

That taught and tiny set of girlish hips Evelyn had used to lure so many adventurers to their doom was now so big, the Cultist had taken to rubbing butter onto her hips to make sure she didn’t get stuck in her own chambers. Their girth was a daily humiliation visible only to the cultist and her cruel goddess, so wide that the brunette hadn’t worn underwear or even clothes since summer had begun, leaving her blobby bulk sweaty and naked. Her tight buns had inflated just as much, swelling with each meal into an ass into heavy hemispheres heavy and lumpy as a grain sack! They smacked and thwacked when she waddled, the sound barely covered by her illusions and were so thick they made her rise half a foot in any chair. Evelyn had learned to give any side table a wide berth, as many a lamp or decoration had been knocked to the floor by her invisible girth. Right now she was sitting on two stools, having abandoned chairs two hundred pounds ago as her backside grew.

“Well we’ve *burp* a month left,” Evelyn gasped, so stuffed on royal junk food she could feel control of her  illusions slipping, “I’m sure I’ll be pleasantly plump by the wedding…”

She belched loudly and for a bare second wasn’t a girl just growing into her curves, but a lard laden leviathan wider than she was tall, stark naked and shiny with sweat. Luckily the Queen and her feeder servants were busy with a wine bottle and a whole chicken, letting Evelyn recast the charm without noticing.

“But I really must be going, you know they say that a nap after eating helps the pounds stick,” the nervous cultist fibbed.

Rising slowly from her stools with the help of her fat, trembling arms (knees popping as she did) Evelyn slowly waddled to the door. Playing up being painfully full helped explain her slowness, but not how she so carefully had to push herself through the doorway. To the Queen it looked like her slender new daughter in law had merely paused and for some reason grabbed both sides of the door frame to propel herself through! Evelyn thanked Kh’aila she hadn’t gotten stuck, desperately hoping to soon be thin and out of this mad house!

The painfully long, hundred foot walk back to her own quarters took longer than she thought, the huffing and gasping Evelyn hearing a snicker behind her as she reached her magically widened doors.

“Why if it isn’t our brother’s little fiance, the tiny little slut trying to take him away from us,” one melodious voice asked.

“Not so little anymore,” an identical voice laughed, “little bitch is already fattening up. Look at that ass!”

The illusion of Evelyn’s butt looked like it had only gained enough weight to press against her skirt, but despite its immense real bulk the whole fatty edifice shook and jiggled at a sharp smack!

Gulping, trying not to drool, Evelyn turned towards her two other roommates: Princess Aiya and Princess Ayia. Queen Saraj’ second pregnancy had given birth to two girls and one boy, a most unusual combination. And while Archibald was a tall, strapping and muscular young man, his sisters were something else.

“Sisters in law, pardon but I’m so full,” Evelyn said, trying to not drool over herself, “If I eat another bite I will burst!”

“That’s your fault for not saving enough room,” Aiya laughed.

“Or for not stretching your stomach out,” Ayia agreed.

Both twins were strapping six footers, hard six packs gleaming with the sweat of a morning workout under the mountains of their alchemically boosted titties. The identical young women were stunning echoes of their once fit mother and like her had chosen adventure over the decadence of Weit-Ganberg’s noble parties. They spent fall through spring fighting as mercenary heroes against all manner of monsters, returning in the summer to visit and train. Once Evelyn would have seen their sun kissed skin and arrogant attitudes as opportunities to bulk, but months of their attention had rewritten her instincts. Now she felt the puss buried beneath her folded thighs dampen and her mouth drool in anticipation, for although the twins took after their mother physically, they’d inherited their father’s fat fetish.

“It is my fault Mistresses,” the food and sex addicted hedonist moaned, “...please punish me for it…”

In moments, Evelyn was on her bed, arms chained up above her. She barely had the presence of mind to project an illusion of a dress being ripped off to reveal a slightly plump figure before the sisters were on her. Thankfully both muscular ginger predators were more concerned about further fattening the seemingly slightly padded girl before them instead of how a seemingly large bed space she pushed down.

The cultist had force fed enough women and men to know experts and they got the tube in her mouth faster than she could have done herself. Pudding was flowing into her belly before she knew it, with one red head’s lips between her swollen thighs and another working her barely changed tits, the illusion enough to make Evelyn seem hundreds of pounds thinner to the touch.

As the fattening sludge filled her and the gingers fucked her, the cultist felt the tiniest hint of real fear. Bad enough to grow fat but to be the submissive? Kh’aila was a cruel goddess and submission didn’t appease her. Evelyn knew she was already in disfavor of the ancient deity, but promised that once this was done she’d never again show submission or dependence…

After the wedding next month, she’d be back as good as ever…

 

…..

“I must say, my chubby little turtle dove, that the weight you’ve put on suits you,” Archibald smiled as the carriage rolled onwards.

“It makes me feel frumpy and ugly honestly, when I take this dress off you might run,” Evelyn groaned, “and if I don’t, well a button might pop off and blind  you.”

In a hundred years of fattening, Evelyn knew the stages of how a gain went. First the secret manipulations, hypnosis and discrete appetite stimulant doses. Then the sweet coaxes into bigger portions and deserts while slowing stopping any form of exercise. After that, the conversion to feederism during sex and then, when all resistance had crumbled, when the victim stuffed themselves.

Somehow she’d bypassed every step and jumped immediately to the last one.

“A brief glimpse of your lovely belly would be worth losing an eye,” Archibald smiled gallantly, looking his bride up and down, ``there are much worse last sights to see!”

Evelyn’s illusory image was no longer that of a slender beauty just growing curves. Now the slender, innocent and genuine rural girl she’d pretended to be looked a plumply pampered member of the urban nobility. She had chubby cheeks and a not so little double chin, that swan like neck on the verge of being lost. Her arms were soft and plush, quite invitingly pinchable as her new husband and sister in laws did many times a day. Not much had changed on her chest sadly, but her gut had sprouted into a lazy, fertile looking paunch with much used love handles. Girlish hips were long gone, in their place seductively girthy womanly hips that begged to have an heir pumped into them. Her thighs rubbed and ankles jiggled, while her rounded, plumped behind had no need for a bustle.

There’d been many tongues wagged when she’d shown up plump to her wedding two days ago, looking ready to burst her dress. Much of the redness on her face on the long walk up the aisle had been simple exertion, but the rest had been shame and anger over being called fat.

Especially as the real Evelyn was so, so much fatter.

Eight meals a day and constant snacking in between had blown the ethereally slender cultist up in record time, three or four pounds a day sticking to her. The results had been catastrophic: cheeks and jowls joined together to cover her neck and make her face round as a ball. Rolly polly arms significantly thicker than her old thighs, even beneath the elbow. A double fold belly big enough she could use an old dress as a belt. And most of all, her lower half. Her hips were as wide as she was tall, at the moment pressed snug into the carriage walls. Her ass was so big it barely fit on the velvet seat, pushing Evelyn nearly off of it. Her thighs made multiple rolls, each of them thick as a fat girl’s waist. Cankles swollen from carrying her own weight hung down over her feet, making even waddling difficult.

“Had I known that, I’d have not dieted before coming to court,” the quarter ton cultist made herself smile, ignoring the jiggle that went through her frame as the carriage hit a pothole.

“Oh no, self control is the most enticing feature. Especially when it’s been shattered,” the Prince smiled, “now, it's time for your snack.”

Obediently Evelyn’s mouth popped open, letting him feed her an entire tray of chocolates before rubbing her silk clad gut. The cultist was actually wearing clothes now, a near transparent mumu, an unfortunate necessity. Packing on so much fat as a result of her own actions, acting submissively and not killing those who’d wronged her had cost Evelyn further favor from her dark patron. Kayla's gift of illusion had been partly withdrawn, meaning the cultist could no longer seem to be wearing clothes when she was bare and her cutely tubby illusion was as slim as it could be made. A few more months of this and she’d be powerless forever!

“I’m going to get stuck in the carriage door,” Evelyn belched, not bothering trying to hide it, “ugh, I’ve grown so big!”

“You’re positively tiny, my plump picadillo. In a few years, after you’ve had six or seven children and can no longer stand, you’d see yourself as positively starved!” Archibald soothed her.

Evelyn knew she was probably too hefty to carry a pregnancy, but the carriage rolled to a halt first. She smiled, knowing she was at last about to be delivered!

“We’re here!” the cultist grinned, trying to stand and failing, her heaviness and weakness temporarily trapping her.

“Seems a bit of a dismal ruin,” her prince admitted, athletic frame stepping easily from the coach and gallantly helping his seemingly just tubby wife out of the carriage, which groaned to be free of her quarter ton bulk.

“Well yes, but it's an old family tradition for the two of us to go down,” Evelyn smiled, taking in the ruined, crumbled walls of Knight-Grave cathedral, where her cult awaited them to sacrifice this saccharine fool and return her to loveliness.

And frowned, everything was as it should be...but the path down to the basement doors was far steeper and rougher than she remembered. She wondered almost if she should call it off, but convincing Archibald to interrupt their honeymoon to travel to this ruin had been hard nor was it likely she would get another chance. And the cultist hated the cowardice that had grown alongside her obesity.

“You may need to help me down a bit,” Evelyn gulped, “I’ve grown a bit out of condition.”

“How could I not, my adorable sweetling?” the Prince smiled.

The trip down the path was slow and laborious. Evelyn was in truly terrible condition and began to pant not long after leaving the carriage. Her blood pressure wasn’t in a good place and the diabolical blessings that had fended off the true consequences of gaining hundreds of pounds in mere months were beginning to fade. A few times the sweating, panting woman had to stop and lean on a tree to catch her breath, a journey that should have been but a few minutes from carriage to the basement steps taking half an hour.

“You know, my soft sided love, the minute I saw you I knew I had to have you,” the Prince smiled, opening the door for his wife who lumbered forwards, sweaty sides slipping through the stone just barely.

“I *pant* felt the same,” Evelyn gasped, praying for an end to this nightmare of suffering the consequences of her own actions.

“I thought, here is a woman who doesn’t play by society’s rules. Who’s got a head on her shoulders and isn’t just a pretty face. Who can offer good advice and in fact lead on her own,” Archibald smiled, leading her into the gloom and taking a torch from the wall.

“Appreciated,” the cultist moaned, so distracted by her own misery she just now realized that something was wrong, there shouldn’t have been a torch!

“Granted, not perfectly but who could. Still I’m impressed, you had a hundred years of leadership and only a single mistake. There’s few who can boast that, Priestess Blackheart,” Archibald smiled in the torchlight.

Cold sweat broke out across the already drenched obese cultist, for once at a loss, “Archie I...what do you mean? I am but twenty years old…”

“Come now Evie, we’re people of action, lies do not become us,” the Prince smiled, “well, you were a woman of action. Things have changed I expect, since you put on at least four hundred pounds. So why don’t you stop wasting what little power you have left with that illusion and come on?”

Evelyn froze, piggish eyes widening as she realized she’d been made, the shock so great her illusion dropped to reveal her as the heifer she was. The Prince knew who she was, knew what she was!

“Take him, now!” she screamed, loud as her overburdened lungs could, “Take the sacrifice for K'aila!”

Instead of the war cries of her fitter cult members, there was only cold laughter to greet her ears.

Familiar laughter.

“Yes, let's take the sacrifice to the goddess, shall we?” Archibald smiled coldly, “after all, it's near the fall equinox isn’t it? Not quite as holy a time as midwinter, but close enough.”

He’d not let go of the Priestess’ hand and dragged her down a short hallway to the great stairs of the undercroft, the same staircase that the Knight Sister Sabine had waddled down in mid winter. It was well lit now, torches blazing to show a scene of slaughter.

Evelyn had ordered two dozen of her best assassins, blade freaks and sadists to prepare themselves in ambush. All twenty four of them were chopped to pieces, tattooed and pierced bodies splattered over the ground. At the base of the stairs, before the great statue of Khaliya, stood two tall, muscular ginger women in practical metal armor, wiping blood from their swords.

“It took  you long enough, brother,” Aiya laughed, “did you have to grease that piglet to get her in the door?”

“Probably busy fucking her brains out, I know I would be,” Ayia smiled, “after all a sacrifice should go to the goddess still trembling from its last high, shouldn’t it?”

“No...no, this can’t be, this can’t…,” Evelyn gasped, trying to back up only for Archibald’s hand to be at her back.

“Oh yes, yes it is love. I must admit, I was intrigued by your real identity upon seeing you. I knew you were special but it took some digging to find out your real identity,” the Prince smiled, leading her down the long, shallow stairs, “from old diaries and journals, I learned that every twenty five years or so an Evelyn Blackheart would appear, a delicately slender and oh so vivacious girl that was much different than all the other rich noble women. But of course, she’d inevitably marry someone rich and withdraw to have her children. Only for that noble man to die in some accident and Evelyn vanish for a generation, only to appear again pretending to be her own daughter. A good scheme and most of the city would never have caught on.”

The helpless, obscenely huge brunette had no choice but to follow, her gargantuan thighs smacking with each step. She was near hyperventilating from fear as they descended, the great statue of the goddess looming larger with each slow waddle. 

“And I must say, my overfed little parakeet hooked me. When I first saw you, oh so clever and disdaining, a skinny little thing that ate like a piglet I knew I needed to have you, to turn you dull eyed and obese like the women you thought yourself above,” the Prince went on, dragging his sweating, panting bride, “But when I dug further and realized you were an evil, cold hearted murderess who manipulated and schemed your way down the generations, why...I fell in love. What follower of Khaila could not love the goddess’ chosen?”

Evelyn paused on the last step, truly stunned to hear the words.

“Why the shock, my obese opal?” the Prince smiled, “You were the perfect predator, a beast made to hunt in our society. How could I not love you with all my soul?”

“Then please, let me go, i won’t hurt you or anyone else again!” the terrified cultist begged.

“Ah but you’re not the perfect predator anymore, nor the Goddess’ chosen either. To her glory, I domesticated you. Turned you from a proud bird of prey to a waddling hen. Corpulent hips wider than you are tall. That clever face made so dull and round, all your sharp edges gone soft. If I let you go now, you’d collapse waddling up the stairs…,” Archibald grinned, “why Evelyn, you’ve become not but prey. And you know, I love you for that too! You’re so soft, so weak and needy, a living water bed that must be carefully tended. So know you can’t be let go…because you have to kneel.”

The two muscular princesses were each at Evelyn’s shoulders as the statue of Kh’aila came to life. Not to make the obese cultist kneel, no her knees gave out as the stone flexed, but to keep her from collapsing as the great, terrible stone face looked down on them.

“Great Kh’aila, I have brought to you the sacrifice you requested. The vainest of your followers, laid low!” Archibald yelled, bowing very low, his sisters following.

“AH, SO YOU HAVE. A GOOD JOB LITTLE MORTAL, NOT THAT IT WAS TOO HARD. YOU WERE ALWAYS A FAT GIRL ON THE INSIDE, WEREN’T YOU, EVELYN?” the plump statue laughed, putting one nail under Evelyn’s many chins.

“Please, please I corrupted the prince, didn’t I? I brought him here, just like you asked!” the terrified Evelyn gasped.

“I’M AFRAID NOT, THIS ONE HAS BEEN ONE OF MINE SINCE HE WAS A BOY,” the goddess grinned, “YOU REALLY SHOULD HAVE CHECKED BEFORE CHOOSING MY NEW HIGH PRIEST.”

Archibald smiled, “All thanks to you, great goddess, everything in your name.”

Kh’aila’s stone hand glowed silver, arcing down to lightly tap the Prince’s brow. He was filled with silver light, Evelyn recognizing the gift of immortality when she saw it. She swallowed and gulped, fearing what was to come.

“AND AS FOR YOU, FAILED PRIESTESS, FALLEN PREDATOR,” the massive statue grinned, “THE DEAL WAS MADE THAT YOU WOULD CORRUPT A PRINCE OR HAVE YOUR REAL AGE RESTORED TO YOU, WAS IT NOT?”

Evelyn could only nod, chins bobbing.

“BUT I AM A MERCIFUL GODDESS. YOU DIDN’T CORRUPT A PRINCE, NO. BUT YOU DID HELP CORRUPT YOURSELF INTO A HELPLESS BLOB OF LIVING BUTTER,” the cruel elder goddess laughed, “AND I CAN THINK OF NO BETTER WAY FOR YOU TO WORSHIP ME THAN BY CONTINUING YOUR DECADENT FEASTING.”

The statue’s hand glowed gold and lurched down to gently smack Evelyn’s ass. Magic shot through her jiggling lard, slowly filling her.

“THERE THERE, NOW, FROM PERFECT ETERNAL FEEDER TO PERFECT ETERNAL FEEDEE,” the goddess laughed, “YOU’LL SUFFER EVERY WADDLE AND WHEEZE AND GASP, BUT NEVER DIE FROM THEM. YOU’LL ALWAYS BE HUNGRY AND NEVER GET FULL. YOU’LL NEVER LOSE ANOTHER POUND AND ONLY GAIN A FEW HUNDRED MORE. AND BETTER YET, AS LONG AS YOU GORGE AND GLUT AND STUFF...YOU’LL NEVER AGE!”

With a cackle the goddess’ presence departed, leaving the four of them alone. The Princesses hoisted their feedee to her swollen feet, not that Evelyn was resisting as the true terror of Kh’aila’s words struck her. She was going to be fat like this...forever.

“Well girls, I for one am in religious awe at our goddess’ command,” the Prince smiled,the new high priest approaching his girthy bride, “Now come my lovely, you look like you’re wasting away. And we’ve a honeymoon to enjoy, I do hope you don’t mind my sisters joining us…”

Evelyn sighed, "can I pick the menu at least?"

There are worse fates after all.

[SilverPathfinder]

Evelyn, from sharp predator to very plump cattle

Enjoy this fatass ❤️

[>_< 0_0]

This was such a well-executed twist. To think that Evelyn’s downfall was so bemusing that her own goddess turns her into an immortal plaything.

[Batman76]

On 6/4/2021 at 3:52 PM, SilverPathfinder said:

Evelyn, from sharp predator to very plump cattle

Enjoy this fatass ❤️

This is your finest work so far. The ass cheeks being wide as her elbows is chefs kiss

 

1 hour ago, >_< 0_0 said:

This was such a well-executed twist. To think that Evelyn’s downfall was so bemusing that her own goddess turns her into an immortal plaything.

But is it a punishment or a reward?

[>_< 0_0]

8 hours ago, Batman76 said:

This is your finest work so far. The ass cheeks being wide as her elbows is chefs kiss

 

But is it a punishment or a reward?

A reward for Arse-in-balls! 

[SilverPathfinder]

@Batman76 I didn't achieved to render the cankles brushing against the ground though. The challenge of drawing so many folds was quite something already. I am glad you liked the end result ^^ Extreme pears are a bit out of my comfort zone drawing wise, but it was interesting to learn how to fatten up legs to such a high degree.

 

[Batman76]

Okay, onto the next chapter. This characer, Sasha, was one that Silver came up with: a lean, mean revolutionary rogue fighting against the tyrannical, fat loving regime of King Archibald and Queen Evelyn.

But when her assignment changes from front lines saboteur to an infiltration mission into the royal harem, Sasha finds herself changing too....because when you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back....

 

Gaze into the Obese:

Thunder rumbled over the high spires and tall towers of Weit-Gainberg, mirroring the city’s discontent.

 

Several years had passed since the sudden ascension of King Archibald the I, after the sudden death of his older brothers. Any feelings of hope at the clever young man’s reign had quickly faded.The old, traditional religions of the city were abandoned along with their festivals and rites, while folk whispered of odd rituals conducted in the nobility’s palaces. 

 

Weit-Gainberg’s noble women were famed for their slender, delicate beauty across the world, however shortlived it might be. But tales from servants told of svelte high born ladies being purposefully and forcefully fattened up, their corsets cracking open before jeering crowds. Any who doubted had only to look at the sudden epidemic of obesity among even the slimmest rich girls, who began to thicken and swell. Flat tummies were traded for knee length guts, harsh exercise regimes for being carried on litters, strict diets for tube feedings. Within five years it was rare to see a noble girl even able to walk. Demands for luxuries among the rich land owners spiked, leading to increasingly harsh taxes on their peasants. Whole families of prosperous farmers and craftsmen were reduced to starving serfdom, the poor of the kingdom seething under the oppressive boot of their betters. A cruel secret police was formed, rumored to be cultists of a dark and forgotten Goddess, that culled those poor folk who raised voice to their abuse. Within ten years, most of the growing serf class had abandoned hope and bowed their heads.

 

But for everyone who knuckled down under the new regime, there was someone who resisted.

 

One of these brave resistance fighters was currently in chains, being dragged through Weit-Gainberg’s maze like lower streets towards the feared Cell-Ulite Prison. A patrol of mail armored toughs with brutal halberds escorted a score of gaunt, terrified peasants, laying on with the blunt ends of their weapons whenever they felt like it.

 

“Picked these ones up for begging in the street!” a cruel Captain laughed to the other guards at the Prison gate, “Damned hay-seed runaway serfs probably think the church of mercy still operates!”

 

The thick limbed guard Captain hauled on the chain suddenly, making the score of human scare crows fall to their knobbly knees as the other guards poured from the prison. Had the guard sergeant truly been paying attention, he’d have noticed that one of his captives fell quite gracefully and without injury. But no one ever noticed Sasha Swellheart until she wanted them too, when it was generally too late.

 

Sasha kept her head down, letting her strawberry blonde curls hide the bitter glare of rebellion in her eyes. And as the guards grabbed her arms, kept her hard biceps unflexed. The rag clad women’s loose, tattered garments hid the hard, strong muscles of a toned body as she was dragged into the deep dungeons and then a tiny cell, the guards laughing to themselves that they’d later be back to give her a more permanent lesson.

Sasha waited until the rattle of their armor faded, then allowed a small smile to cross her lips.

 

“Idiots, they only ever see what they want to see,” the young woman laughed to herself and set to work, “which is why we’ll win in the end.”

 

Nimble fingers fished a small lock pick from her hair, her manacles picked in moments. Sasha shredded her loose peasant dress in less than a minute, revealing a lithe muscled body that despite some filth and bruises would have been quite fetching in the uncorrupted Weit-Gainberg of old. A six pack shown on her small waist, hard quads and hamstrings on her legs and she had a firm, taut bubble butt. The only softness on her body was a far more than decent bust, currently kept somewhat flat by a tightly wrapped binding. Sasha was a sight rarely seen now, the medium between the starved, overworked serfs and the decadent, engorged noble women, someone with strength and determination that the Secret Police had failed to account for.

 

For instance, Sasha’s cell was a narrow obuilette, three feet wide, three feet deep and twelve feet high, with a tiny window at the top. Unescapable for a starved serf or an obese noble woman, but child’s play for the blonde.

 

Wrapping her hands, feet and knees with fabric, Sasha pulled a small vile from her bound chest. Popping the cork, she oiled her body up until it shown and then jumped upwards. The young woman was short and compact, but her arms and legs were rock hard and her fingers just as strong. She scaled the wall like a spider and got to the little window. It was barred with iron, but the gaps were relatively wide and the strawberry blonde relatively narrow save at bust and hip. A minute of wriggling and struggle got the fit woman through, a bit sore but safe.

 

“They’re only used to dealing with enslaved farmers who can barely raise their own head,” Sasha muttered, bitterly remembering the fate of her own family, “which is why any resistance always surprises them.”

 

Smiling, the oiled up woman slid through the night, silent as a shadow. A heavy rain started, all the better for Sasha’s plan. Unheard and unseen, she soon found the next part of her plan a sleeping guard. She stole his dagger without him noticing and passed onwards to the barracks, using the knife to open up a plank in the roof. Sasha squeezed her way through the narrow gap with ease, then climbed down to the kitchen were a brutish cook was preparing a huge, bubbling cauldron of stew. Her nimble hand pulled a small vial of bright green liquid from her bosom, the spy easily pouring it into the cauldron without being noticed.

 

Sasha smiled, stole a large loaf of bread and found a dark rafter to wait in. It had been nearly a day since the muscular woman had eaten and the loaf was soon gone, her hard belly not even bulging. Soon the guards were gathered for dinner, not seeing the killer above them.

 

“And a three, and a two, and a one…,” the strawberry blonde smiled, blue eyes cold and merciless as she watched the guards eat.

Soon the first guard was coughing, his eyes going big as he found himself able to breath. The man who tried to pound his back found himself equally **, an epidemic of coughing ripping through the room. Within a minute every man who’d had so much as a sip of soup was foaming at the mouth, bodies convulsing as the virulent basilisk poison turned them to stone.

 

“Easy as eating mother’s pie,” Sasha smiled, thinking of a dim memory from back when her parents were alive and anyone below a lord could afford a pie.

 

Sliding from her perch, the spy tip toed across the court yard to open the prison gate. There were two guards on duty, big brutish men with halberds and swords and to her joy, the citadel’s commander: Princess Aiya herself.

 

“This whole regiment is a disgrace, I tell you a disgrace! Your all slackwits and layabouts and the food here isn’t fit to feed to peasants!” Aiya roared.

 

A tall red haired woman famed for her strength and speed, the princess served as a general for her tyrannical brother, King Archibald. But Aiya had not seen combat for long years and gone halfway to seed: her flat waist had bulged out into a hefty beer gut that mocked the comically muscled ceremonial breastplate, her proud jawline was home to two more chins and her biceps bulged not with muscle but with lard.

 

“And here’s the cherry on top,” Sasha smiled, sliding behind the fat royal redhead with knife in hand, narrow frame hidden by the older woman’s fat ass.

 

Sasha’s first strike slit Aiya’s belts, the weight of her sword making the fat princess’ pants fall to the ground. Lunging past the fat woman, Sasha killed the first guard with a thrust to the neck and then turned on his comrade. She grabbed his elbow to stop him from drawing his sword and then stabbed him through the eye, letting the body fall.

 

“Princess, you appear a bit...clothing damaged!” Sasha smiled as the corpulet ginger struggled to bend over and get her sword, “eating a bit too much at feasts?”

 

“Silence  you damned rebel, you’ll swing for this! GUARDS!” Aiya grunted, picking up her sword with a grunt.

 

Her cry echoed off the prison’s walls but brought no reinforcement. All the other guards were currently turned to stone by basilisk venom, leaving the general alone. Snarling, the fat woman tried to draw her sword only to find it stuck in its sheath.

 

“Must have rusted into it, it does look like its been a while since you’ve drawn it,” Sasha smiled, “or perhaps it corroded after being used to smear butter…”

 

Raging, Aiya waddled forwards and swung the sheathed blade at the snide spy. Sasha easily dodged, lunging past the fat woman to smack her ass. Fat rippled up the Princess’ horse wide buns, spreading to the drooping roll of fat hanging over her thong and into the massive bosom propped up by her breast plate. Aiya roared again and tried to turn, swinging without skill only to get another smack on the ass and to hear a dagger cut the straps on her breast plate. Armor fell away and heavy bosoms plopped out, great bouncy tits bigger than the Princess’ head. Her already pathetic attacks became weaker, Aiya having to spare one arm to stop the turbulent tatas from hitting her in the face!

 

 The game continued for near two minutes, by the end of which Aiya was lathered in sweat, buck naked and breathing heavily. Her tubby arms quivered to hold up her rusted blade, her oversized breasts flopped without a bra and her ass was red as her hair from Sasha spanking her. With one last burst of rage, the formerly fit woman tried a huge, lunging thrust only for the svelte spy to trip her up. Aiya hit the ground with a wet smack, breathing heavily and unable to rise.

 

“Looks like someone isn’t fit for the battlefield anymore,” Sasha teased, still breathing easily and stepping past the collapsed royal to open the gate, “Perhaps interrogating will suit you better…”

 

With a flick of her wrist, Sasha opened the dread citadel’s gates. Three dozen men in women who’d been waiting in the narrow streets swarmed towards it, all lean and fit, dressed in black and carrying stolen weapons. They found Sasha at the entrance, foot on aiya’s plentiful backfat:

 

“My fellow soldiers of the Glorious Restoration,” Sasha smiled, “I’ve a gift for you! A hundred dead guards, a hundred freed prisoners for our cause, an armor of weapons and a fat paychest and oh yes, one stuffed pig of a princess!”

 

It was the second greatest action of Sasha’s career as a spy. Unfortunately for her, her greatest would insure she’d never take another….

 

                    ……

 

“Your actions at the prison were of great help to the revolution’s cause, Sasha,” rasped dryly through the plump lips of Sister Drayla.

 

The last surviving Nun of the Order of Sacred Restraint had once been a valiant warrior, strong and sturdy against the physical and mental tides of corruption. But her abbey had been one of the first to fall against the new regime’s dark forces, the holy nuns taken and broken by exposure to extreme decadence. Drayla’s body had failed, the strong warrior woman fattened into an ungainly blob wide as she was tall, but her mind had held on where so many of her sisters had given in. Drayla had escaped via a miraculous architectural fault, vanishing into the city’s underground and organizing the resistance against the cruel King Archibald’s regime. Currently, Sasha was inside the Nun’s small office hidden deep in the city’s catacombs.

 

“I’m glad to hear that,” the lithe spy smiled, covering her disgust at the Nun’s immense bulk, “anything I can give to the cause, anything that can make those corrupt sons of bitches pay…”

 

Angry as she always was at the corrupt, decadent ruling class, Sasha couldn’t quite shy away from her disgust at the Nun’s body. Even after years of dieting, Drayla weighed well over three hundred pounds. Her drooping gut sagged into her lap and whenever the nun breathed, her heavy, rounded bust pressing taut against her wrapped chest. Sasha possessed quite a proud bust but felt anything bigger than her pert double handfuls to be quite disgusting.

 

“I’m sure, the cause always needs more,” Drayla sighed, heaving her bulk from her chair which groaned to be free of her hefty flab, “and while the prison’s liberation and General Ayia’s capture we’re closer to overthrowing the King and his devil Queen than we’ve ever been. Yet our source of information at the Palace was burned in passing the information to us, I regret to inform you that she, Lady Agatha Hargrave, one of the prize piglets in the King’s harem, was sentenced to death by starvation this morning.”

 

Sasha had to restrain a snort. She’d lived with death for years and it had bred a callousness in her. She’d been caught and either slipped away or fought her way out of captivity repeatedly. As a result, Sasha felt that anyone too fat and feeble to look after themselves wasn’t worth any sort of help. That one of the obscenely fat lesser noble women the rich families had donated to the mad royal to fatten up had served the revolution’s cause was a bigger surprise than one of the porcine porkers being caught.

 

“I see, you wish me to free her?” Sasha asked, privately revolted at the idea of having to free such a fatty.

 

“No, unfortunately the King is bringing in new initiates to his harem,” the Nun coughed dryly, “and we need someone who can easily slide in and out of the castle and no one is better than you.”

 

Sasha made a real sneer of distaste, “I’m a sneak true, but an assassin. If I can get into the palace, I can merely kill the King and his devil Queen.”

 

“Unfortunately it is not that easy. The King does not leave the upper reaches of his palace spire, only bringing up new harem members when they’ve grown too fat to stand up,” Drayla shook her head, “he is protected by powerful magical barriers as long as he is in the tower, but his generals sample the harem and are known to be quite free with information as they feed and breed.”

 

Sasha shivered at the thought of such decadence, doing nothing but eating and screwing day in and day out. The inevitable inflation of her nimble body to resemble one of the hated, disgusting noble women made her wish to vomit!

 

“Our forces are gathering for the final strike, Sasha. This information can tip the balance of the war,” Drayla promised her, “Please, it will be only a few weeks, is that too much to ask? Does a little weight mean more than the empire’s freedom?”

 

“I told you already, I’ll do anything the revolution needs me to,” Sasha snarled, her pride hurt by the accusation past the point of caution, “nor do I think I will grow the slightest bit fat in such a short time…”

 

                        ….

Getting into the Palace via the newest harem shipment was easier than Sasha thought.

 

A warm bath, a trip to a stylist and a change into a gown was really all it took. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled up into a bun that showed off elfin features and long neck, while a tightly fitted, sky blue gown matched her cold eyes and showed off her narrow waist and spectacular bust. Some stolen jewels were fitted to her fingers and neck, some make up applied and suddenly the hardened spy was just a muscularly curvy noble girl awaiting transport. A carriage borrowed from a sympathetic noble house brought the beautiful infiltrator to the grand palace, Sasha taking the place of their daughter.

 

“Why haven’t we blown the palace sky high this way?” the spy pondered, not taking into account collateral damage or caring much about it as her vehicle rolled past the new statue of the dark goddess Kh’aila being built in the plaza before the palace.

 

Once inside the spy’s question was answered.

 

“Clothes here girls, clothes here!” a stern eyed, big bellied woman in a priestess’ uniform called as the noble beauties emerged giggling from their coaches, “show off what the dark goddess gave you!”

 

Gowns and corsets began piling up at the harem gates. Sasha was glad she’d never taken any identifying scars during her adventurers, for the girls around her had clearly never fought anything, built for pleasure and beauty not combat. Despite the new dedication to a fouler cause, the maidens about her still mostly displayed the old Weit-Gainberg beauty: long runners legs and flat, narrow waists, with taut round buns trained by lunges and full busts inflated by alchemy.

 

Mostly.

 

“Pardon me, I couldn’t help but wonder who did your tits. They’re magnificent!” a high voice came from her left.

 

The spy’s one failing was her pride, so she turned with a smile, “These old things? I got them from my mother, the best thing she gave to me, what about you…”

 

“Oh the same! Although mine aren’t yet as big as mothers, even after I went off my diet,” the noble girl grinned, “I’m Lilly!”

 

Sasha did raise an eyebrow though to see the girl talking to her. Just like the revolutionary, this noble girl was about 5’5 and with a substantial bust and wide hips. Even her hair was similar, a vibrant straw berry blonde. The spy might have been staring at a mirror...save for about a seventy pound difference. Where Sasha’s stomach was hard and flat, ridged with muscle, Lily’s lazy gut had grown round off sweets and meats. Where Sasha’s limbs were firm and defined, Lily’s limbs were lazy and soft. The noble girl even had a double chin!

 

“...Sasha,” the spy said, hiding a snort at the ridiculously plump woman taking off her clothes.

 

Gods, the spy thought, this piglet didn’t even wait to start fattening up! Most noble girls preserved their bodies as a sacrifice to their new dark goddess, but a few were starting to give into gluttony early. Lilian was soft as butter, a lazy, good for nothing, useless lump of fat that waddled when she walked! Sasha’s heart burned at the calories this corrupt noble had stolen from some serf and used just to further her own decadent bulk.

 

“Well Sasha, its going to be so much fun here! We get to eat whatever we want, whenever we want,” the bare girl said as the new influx of harem mates were brought in, “and all of the sex!”

 

“I’m sure it will be most vivifying,” Sasha said dryly, “sickeningly sweet.”

 

The scores of girls were led into the harem’s central garden itself. It was a paradise, magic keeping it warm as spring despite the early winter cold. Blossoming flowers and fruit trees erupted from the soft grass of the garden, interrupted with crystal pools and fountains of amorous succubi. Soft, revealing clothes were laid out: little more than pairs of revealing underwear, but most girls ignored them, intent on long tables groaning with delicacies. Sasha found a pair of panties that easily fit, but it took a bit of time to find a pair to fit her large bust.

 

“Oh yes, I’m sure. I’m planning on getting quite fat here, I was always the chubbiest at school and got teased for it, but its not like there’s a need to restrain ourselves any more,” Lillian laughed, “I bet that most of these girls will be three hundred pound by the time their tour in the harem is over! I can’t wait to get my hands on them as they fatten up!”

 

Sasha was far from a virgin, she’d had sex with men and women when ever the fancy took her. But the idea of finding weight gain attractive? Ugh it was so strange and so off putting...but Sasha couldn’t deny seeing these lean legs and slim hips swell up to show the greedy, thieving nature of the nobles who owned them didn’t sound nice.

 

“Yes, I imagine most of them will get quite fat,” Sasha smiled, watching one leggy girl trot by towards the buffet and imagining her fast sprint turning into a slow, huffing waddle.

 

The spy’s face went strangely red at the thought.

 

“Oh yes, and us too. I’m hoping to get immobile. Its rare to happen in only two years, but there’s rumors that one of the Princess’ did it,” the chubby Lillian went on, “just think, getting so big my belly touches the floor! And so weak I can’t even stand up, I’ll need servants to do everything for me!”

 

Sasha couldn’t hide her sneer this time, “Ugh, not for me. I’m planning on staying thin, I like to be able to look after myself.”

 

The spy cursed inwardly, hoping she hadn’t given away her game. But surely this plump fatty was as soft in the head as she was in the gut.

 

“Looking after yourself? How...odd. I’ve never considered that, its almost...erotic its so taboo!” Lillian said with a puzzled laugh, pulling some panties up her thick legs, their straps disappearing into her love handles, “can you help me with this bra? I can’t quite get the clasp.”

 

Sasha felt her face redden as the fat girl turned around, her plump back a quiver. Touching the lard, which was oh so heavenly soft and warm, made her fingers feel like they were vibrating. She tied the laces quickly, breathing coming fast.

 

“Oh thank you, its so hard to get a bra on without help when I’m this big. Promise me you’ll help when you’re still skinny and I’m a beached whale?”

 

“I um, sure...it would be an honor,” Sasha gulped, unsure what had come over herself.

 

Surely touching this fat girl wasn’t...turning her on?

 

Before the spy could pull away, Lillian grabbed her by the wrist, “Now come, before all the food is gone!”

 

Playing a spoiled sweet noble girl as she was, Sasha couldn’t shake off the hand and so found herself dragged to a table. Already the lean and slender women she’d entered with were gorging themselves, shoveling in cake and steak with equal gusto. As an escaped serf, Sasha had never really been around sweets but had a taste for high protein meat to fuel her exercises and operations. But she found her firm buns sat before a two tiered cake, its white icing gleaming in the sunlight.

 

“Oh you got lucky, I only got some beef,” Lillian sighed, looking down at her prime rib “but dig in, the priestess’ say its bad luck not to eat everything on your plate the first day!”

 

Sasha looked past her new ‘friend’, seeing the patrolling priestesses of Kh’aila. Servants of the rotund, immobile Queen, these women weren’t much of a danger to Sasha, despite their ceremonial armor and swords. Each was over three hundred pounds of pampered lard, their stretch marked bellies hanging over their groins and their wobbling asses layered with cellulite. Their pauldrons and grieves were decorative leather and their twisted kris blades had long ago rusted into their sheathes. 

 

But they didn’t need to fight the spy, just identify her as a fraud and call for guards. Even if Sasha escaped, she’d blow the mission. And Sasha never failed.

 

“Sorry just, getting ready to eat sugar for the first time. Mommy had me on a strict diet,” Sasha lied, for her own mother had died to make sure her daughter might not starve.

 

Picking up her fork, Sasha delicately picked up a tiny spec of cake frosting. She frowned eating it, struggling not to gag at the richness. But seeing how everyone else was digging in, the spy reallized she’d have to eat more or be made.

 

“I’ll need to exercise this off later,” Sasha sighed internally, making herself eat the cake.

 

It was a disgusting meal. The icing was an inch thick, pure butter cream over angel food. The chef had been a mad woman who’d laced the cake with honey, making it extra sweet. Sasha had to make herself eat it bite by bite, struggling not to puke. By the time she’d finished she felt sick, even her hard belly bulging. 

 

And it bulged more when Lillian handed her an entire pitcher of cream to drink…

 

“Can’t get too dehydrated, I heard we get our pick of soldiers after this!” the tubby spy smiled, stuffing more food into her mouth.

 

“Ugh, I feel sick. How can you eat like this?” Sasha asked.

 

Most of the thin noble girls had eyes bigger than their stomachs, like Sasha they’d gorged on a big sweet and now felt sick. The priestess’ were handing out cream to soothe their bellies. But the heavy set Lillian and a few other girls who’d come with meat on their bones were eating with gusto.

 

“You get used to it, a few months and you’ll be fat as me and able to eat just as much!” Lillian grinned, “oh right, you said you’ll stay thin.”

 

“That’s the plan, should be easy if the food is so rich,” the near sick Sasha groaned.

 

                …..

Three hours later and Sasha easily escaped the harem.

 

She’d fucked a colonel of the royal dragoons senseless, a woman used to fucking fatties wasn’t going to stand up long against Sasha. But not before sweet talking the patrol schedule on the north road for the next month from the orgasmed out officer. Bearing the info, the spy slid on an obscuring servants robe and easily slipped through narrow side passage ways down to a balcony. It was still a hundred feet above street level, the implausible spires that Weit-Gainberg’s nobles built defying gravity, but for the nimble thief that was no problem. Sasha’s nimble fingers plucked a rope from a flag pole and made a grappling hook out of a wall sconce. In less than a minute she tip toed across the long gap between palace and its neighboring spire, then hurried down some long stairs, hopped up a short twelve foot wall and slid down a well to plant her dead drop.

 

To most it would have been a punishing, brutal ordeal but Sasha barely noticed. Save for how queasy her stomach was.

 

“Ugh, best to do this before dinner next time,” Sasha sighed to herself.

 

Giving away the information via a hidden note, for Sasha’s placement in the palace was so secretive no one could know her face, she easily returned to her quarters. The spy had just sat down to go to bed when the door opened, letting in Lillian who bore an entire, steaming hot pie!

 

“Oh I saw you’d missed second snack,” the plump girl smiled, “so I thought we might eat ours together!”

 

Sasha groaned, feeling tired and was about to tell the fatter girl to go away when Lillian popped a huge spoon of hot shepard’s pie into her mouth! The taste immediately took her back to childhood, in the times before the new king had seized power. Her mother had made shepherds pie, it had been Sasha’s favorite meal...

 

“Oh you like those don't you,” Lillian smiled, “you ate it all up in just a moment!”

 

“What, no I...oh my…,” Sasha gulped, realizing that the large pie tin in Lillian’s hands was empty and her stomach was once more full.

 

While the spy’s climb to deliver her first message had been arduous, it had barely burned a quarter of the wedding cake she’d eaten. And the large shepard’s pie had already covered those calories and more!

 

“Don’t worry, I brought you three!” Lillian grinned, pulling a cloth from the bed side table to reveal an entire stack of pies.

 

                    ….

Sasha’s gain was by that point inevitable.

 

There were three mandatory meals per day, each a feast that a peasant might see only once per year in the lost golden days. Sasha, used to skimpy rations, was taken in by the savory treats, combined with a growing tolerance for sugar that easily out paced any minimal exercise she could take. Priestess’ of debauchery with eyes sharp as their bellies were soft over saw the big meals, noting anyone who abstained from total gluttony for special treatment. The one day that Sasha managed to restrain herself, coincidentally a day that her ‘friend’ Lillian was feeling ill, the priestess’ ordered the spy tube fed. Sasha was strapped to a chair, had a tube fitted to her mouth and was forced to swallow more than a gallon of ultra rich pudding before a quart of cream.

 

After that the spy was so grotesquely bloated and exhausted, that she barely moved the rest of the day.

 

Any hope of taking exercise between meals was squandered. The big central meals left Sasha exhausted and bloated, so stuffed after breakfast that she’d barely recovered by lunch and the afternoon fuck sessions. She and Lillian were often asked for together, their resemblance to a living before and after an intriguing novelty...especially as many of the officer clients requested that one feed the other.

 

A growing sense of sexual excitement filled the strawberry blonde as the days passed. Seeing these slender noble girls grow soft and plump turned her on, their chafing thighs and bouncing bellies making her wet. She went from seeing Lillian as gross to cute to sexy over a few weeks, her buoyant curves and heavy bust intriguing to the spy’s eyes. This libido often kept her up at night, even when fucked to exhaustion earlier and it wasn’t long before she started having midnight rendezvous with her friend Lillian.

 

Sasha’s libido wasn’t the only thing that grew the first month.

 

Despite her hardy lifestyle, Sasha had always had a substantial bust and butt. Each breast too big for a single hand to fill, matching the alchemical chests of the rich noble girls, and all of Sasha’s climbing and exercises had given her a taut set of round glutes. Add in her firm stomach and hard limbs with her lean face and Sasha was undeniably gorgeous...but with the exercise regime gone and her diet expanded to massive feasting round the clock, it was of no surprise to anyone but Sasha that she began growing.

 

A sheathe of fat grew over her muscled limbs, giving Sasha a delicate and cherubic look that only increased as her muscles atrophied. Her abs layered over with fat, first looking soft but flat when she wasn’t bloated. However that softness grew and grew into roundness, forming a cute little paunch matched by love handles hanging over her hips. The same layer of fat covered her ass, a couple little dots of cellulite appearing on her cheeks as they began hanging out of her panties. But most of the growth, at first, was on Sasha’s breasts.

 

Excess flesh began poking out from beneath her bronze, harem girl bra. Then more fat sprouted on the sides of her chest, while the canyon of her cleavage deepened and lengthened. As her back muscles weakened an occasional twinge was felt in her shoulders and soon Sasha couldn’t get her bra tied. She put it down to swelling from it being her time of the month and temporarily upsized, not paying attention to her breasts never going down.

 

A pound of day made Sasha quite plump and curvy by the end of her first month, body already showing signs of decadence. Between the skimpy clothes, every other girl gaining around her and not needing to stress herself the spy didn’t notice. There was a brief slack of high ranking officers going through the Harem, preventing her from getting new information. During the lull, Sasha and Lillian were appointed to be handmaids to Queen Evelyn, seeing to the Queen’s sexual needs for the day.

 

The Queen was in her bourdour, where she was all day, every day. Vast paintings made of her from before Evelyn's marriage to then Prince Archibald were hung everywhere, showing an intelligent, confident young woman without an ounce of fat on her narrow waist or sharp face. But although her hair was still a rich brown, the modern Queen was unrecognizable. Evelyn was so fat the lard sprawl of her ass hung off the sides of her bed and so heavy that she could do not but wiggle her fingers or squint her eyes. Attendants kept her clean and cool despite her horse sized bulk, while her continuous good health was a miracle chalked up to the Gods. But the Queen's feeding and entertainment were down to girls from the harem, who kept the immobile monarch continuously stuffed and aroused.

 

“Isn’t the Queen so amazing? She’s so round and cuddly!” Lillian giggled when they returned to the harem, her plump belly jiggling.

 

“Lillian, she’s so fat that I had to hold her stomach up so you could get between her legs,” Sasha reminded, rubbing her sore lower back, “I could barely hold her up! She was so fat she couldn’t bend her neck up to see us!”

 

Lillian laughed again, especially as she saw a roll form on Sasha’s new belly, “Yes, but that didn’t stop you gnawing on her ass! You started drooling on seeing her butt!”

 

“Yes, well, uh,” the embarrassed spy exclaimed, trying not to admit her growing fat fetish, “I’ve just never seen butt cheeks bigger than I was before! It was, erm, its own special disgustingness…”

 

“What, you think she was gross? A woman who can do nothing but eat and eat and eat all day long, who’s seen her every whim carried out by someone else before she can realize it?” Lillian laughed, “seems like heaven to me!”

 

“She can’t even move! She’s helpless and just a big, sea of wobbling fat. I heard that ten years ago she was a tiny little thing, who just grew into that…,” Sasha muttered, face growing beat red.

 

“Ha, you’re jealous! I’d race you to dinner but then I’d have to run!” Lillian joked.

 

It was another couple of weeks and another fifteen pounds before the revolutionary got a good piece of intelligence, a cavalry officer who talked about how he was escorting a tax convoy to the treasury the next day. Sasha remembered every word, despite being busy making out with Lillian as the military man watched. She was still on mission, despite getting distracted by her belly bumping into Lillian’s, which Sasha put down to bloating.

 

That evening, Sasha slid from her and Lillian’s shared rooms and made her way to the dead drop. Every action seemed a bit harder, Sasha’s arms having to work harder to get her through the narrow window, which her hips and tummy pooch brushed. She’d gained nearly forty five pounds, a third of her body weight, in barely a month and not done the exercise needed to adapt to it. And when she pulled herself onto the rope leading to the other tower, well, Sasha immediately felt her balance was off. By that day her belly was turning into quite the pooch, hidden from her view by the swell of her shapely tits. 

 

As a result, Sasha was now quite top heavy and had to move rather slowly over the rope she’d once ran across. The spy’s arms ached from being held out to balance and she found that she couldn’t see the rope beneath her feet due to her breasts blocking her view.

 

“Ugh, I wish these would stop growing,” the spy sighed to herself, not admitting that there was a paunch hiding beneath the soft slopes.

 

Getting down the well was even harder, Sasha’s weakened legs burning from propping herself up against the wall. She needed to take a long, hard breather, bent over with hands on her knees and belly scrunched into rolls, before placing digging her note from her bra and planting it. Climbing back out of the well was a struggle, Sasha’s muscles burning and her breath coming fast as she found finger and toe holds. 

 

By the time she got back to her chambers, the spy had mostly recovered, breath only coming a little faster than normal. Sasha was berating herself for not keeping up with her exercises as she maneouvered through the window and not paying as much attention as she could.

 

“Sasha, where were you?” Lillian’s voice asked in concern, “You’re covered in sweat and dirt, what happened?”

 

“I...I was just going for some exercise,” Sasha didn’t quite lie, plopping back down on the bed, “I’m afraid life here is making me soft and plush…”

 

Lillian smiled, “Well of course, its supposed to. Tis a shame I’m not getting softer though!”

 

Sasha looked her friend up and down, feeling a bit of arousal at the extra full breasts and soft tummy. But plump as Lillian was, she looked no softer than she’d been. Most of the strawberry blonde’s attention was on feeding her room mate, getting more delight out of seeing Sasha eat then she ever did out of pampering herself, not that Sasha realized it.

 

“Ha, perhaps you’re the only one. If only some of those other girls had the same discipline as you,” the plump Sasha smiled, unaware her puffy tummy was starting to overhang her panties.

 

                    …..

Although she’d promised to exercise more thoroughly after her more difficult journey, Sasha squelched on that promise.

 

Instead she celebrated on hearing that the rebels had successfully taken an entire tax caravan, striking an important blow to the regime. Her celebration was seven or eight bowls of meaty stew and many glasses of bubbly beer, filling her stomach out so much it sloshed, before downing a moderate cake. Sasha’s hatred of sugar was turning into a sweet tooth as she got used to a decadent life style, resulting in her biggest bloat yet. The strap of Sasha’s panties broke on her waddle back to her quarters, but the drunken harem girl had an appointment with two handsome young guard officers that made her forget.

 

Between hang over and post-orgasm euphoria, Sasha soon forgot the difficulty she’d had climbing and her promises to get back in shape. Her days lulled back into a haze of over eating and sex that stretched on and on, days turning into weeks, until the spy found herself at the four month celebration of her arrival. Awoken from slumber by the breakfast bell and rolling out of bed well after sunrise, the spy gave a yawn and started getting dressed.

 

Hung over, Sasha started pawing through her dresser’s lower drawer. The panties she found met resisting going up thickening legs, which became genuine difficulty once she got to her hips. Sasha’s narrow waist was gone, obliterated by heavy meals and the sprawl of her love handles and bulge of her belly prevented the panties from going up all the way. No more was she just a little paunchy, Sasha had a genuine ** belly now and fat flanks made for gripping. The tired saboteur gave a few tired tugs, resulting in immense jiggles, and gave up, letting the low hanging panties sit there with half her chubby ass exposed.

 

Yawning, Sasha pulled a bra out of the top drawer. Wrestling her breasts into the triangular cups, it was clear to any observer that she desperately needed more support. Breast meat hung out from beneath the bra, on each side and beneath it, her breasts having eclipsed her head in size. Due to her youth the strawberry blonde was still quite pert but all those calories turning to puppy fat meant that the spy was twice the girl she’d been and there were stretchmarks starting to form on the sides of her bosom. Sasha couldn’t quite get the bra fastened, her fingers tugging at the silken band which wouldn’t quite meet.

 

“Oh let me help  you with that,” Lillian said, far more cheerily as she’d had less to drink than her friend, “after all you did it with me.”

 

“Yes, it must have shrunk,” the hung over spy yawned, glad someone else could do the harder task.

 

Lillian tugged and tugged, but couldn’t get the silk to meet. She stood back, looking at Lillian’s meaty back, which no longer had a waist.

 

“Hmm, oh I know what’s wrong. That’s my bra! You were getting clothes from the wrong dresser!” Lillian laughed.

 

“The...the wrong...your bra,” coughed Sasha, “shouldn’t it be looser?”

 

“I wish, I’ve been melting lately. This barely fits!” the aristocratic girl sighed, taking the bra Sasha couldn’t fit into and easily tying it on with plenty of slack, “Tell me the truth Sasha, am I getting thin? Its just so hard to get enough to eat!”

 

Sasha looked her friend over. No one wouldn’t call Lillian plump, not with that heavy chest and that spoiled belly but she looked less full than she was. She had the hint of a waist almost and her chest looked a bit perkier. Sasha found herself disappointed, she’d grown to love a chubby girl in her time here but a niggling doubt in her brain didn’t go away.

 

Lillian was thinner, in fact she was one of the thinner girls at the harem now. Still fat...but her bra was too small for Sasha which meant…

 

“You look fine but am I...getting fatter?” Sasha asked with trepidation.

 

“Oh Sasha, of course you are! You’re probably the biggest girl in the harem!” Lillian smiled, reaching out to grab not Sasha’s breasts but her heavy beer belly, “this stomach is an inspiration!”

 

Sasha felt the lard barrel attached to her stomach bounce under Lillian’s kneading fingers and went red as her hair.

[Batman76]

And the second, final part of Sasha's story!

“Just this once” turned into a frequent event.

 

Lillian returned winded and a little blistered but beaming from the dead drop, having achieved the first bit of real work in her entire spoiled life. A little drop of danger envigorated the plump girl, who pumped Sasha for all the information on a spy’s life she could get. The amount of intelligence available in the harem only increased once the Royal Spymistress was captured.

Officers of all ranks let their tongues wag while the harem girls serviced them, Lillian organizing gossip sessions with the other young noble women to get enough intell for daily drops. She always signed the letters with Sasha’s code name, taking over the rebel’s operations in a single night.

 

The real Sasha told herself she was taking a day off to recover from her stuffing and she never came back on.

 

Lazy mornings, calorie heavy hang over cures, big brunches, long lunches and submissive sex that usually involved Lillian feeding her became Sasha’s ‘work day’. Adding in lots of day drinking, mid-meal binges and midnight snacks meant that the spy did nothing but balloon. The spy’s belly expanded out in all directions, love handles eclipsing her hips until she was the same shape as a barrel. Her gut collapsed into two separate rolls, the crevice above her meaty fupa seeming to smile at her own decadence.

 

Above the fat smile, Sasha’s bosom continued to inflate at a ridiculous pace, keeping her gut from view. A latent gigantomastia was budding on the formerly nimble saboteur, her breasts blessed with uncontrolled and uneven growth. Although each was as big as a ripe watermelon and tipped with a tea cup sized aereola, Sasha’s right breast had a full three inches on her right.

 

The immense, sensitive bosoms were a weight the totally out of shape spy could barely deal with. Sasha’s once ramrod straight posture descended into a permanet slouch, heavy breasts pulling her forwards at all times. Back pain was her life now, making her walk with a hand on her lower back as if her birth control amulet had failed. To deal with it, the straw berry blonde self medicated with the harem’s readily available hashish, spending her days in a haze of heightened appetite and enhanced libido. 

 

Just as her hard body had disappeared, Sasha’s tough personality vanished too. Rather than deal with her constantly strained back, the busty redhead oftened whined to the robed servants to deliver food to her rooms so she wouldn’t have to walk and started seeing the high ranking clients in her chambers rather than cross the garden. Servants who’d once liked the self sufficient woman for asking so little of them began to dislike her total neediness and perpetually inebriated state.

 

“She’s only about three hundred pounds but demands help getting out of bed!”

 

“Whined for comfier panties yesterday, as if they aren’t made of the softest silk in the kingdom. Maybe she shouldn’t stuff herself sick all day!”

 

“Yesterday she ate from morning to sunset and still begged for more, my whole family doesn’t eat what she does in a week!”

 

To get revenge, the angry servants began taking small, petty acts of vengeance. Panties were taken in, bra straps strategically weakened, even Sasha’s bed board’s sawed through to collapse the next time she saw a client. If Sasha felt an ounce of shame, she didn’t show it. Only her own pleasure concerned the spy, who barely thought about her mission anymore.

 

Lillian took time out of her increasingly busy schedule to ensure her friend was pampered and satiated. The noble girl spoiled the spy rotten, bringing her the choicest delicacies to hand feed her while massaging the obese saboteur’s groaning stomach until she moaned for release. Lillian would feed her a few more bites, then trail kisses down the soft, gravid orb to Sasha’s sweet sex for a good gentle suckling, inhibited by how the spy’s stomach was starting to sag towards her slit. Sasha was still popular with the noble clients of the harem, but save for hard core feeding her star was waning. She was a good fifty pounds fatter than the next chubbiest girl, but she’d turned so lazy all she did in bed was lay there.

 

The noble girl who’d been so much plumper than the spy was changing too. Bringing messages to the dead drop every day was hard exercise that soon toughed the rich girl up. Lillian’s palms grew calluses and her tubby tummy began to shrink, a tapered waistline slowly appearing after years of living under her gut. Muscle sprouted under the shrinking fat layers of her limbs as she grew stronger and the increasingly fit noble girl’s bosom even got perkier! It was rare for anyone to lose weight in the harem given its decadent fare, but Lillian barely touched her plate she was so focused on feeding up Sasha in between running spy operations. 

 

Sasha occasionally noticed her lover’s firming physique, but apart from a few shameful moments at how LIllian looked more like the spy than Sasha herself, didn’t mention it. Instead she slipped into a month’s long haze that ended nine months after her arrival to the harem…

 

                    ….

“Wake up dear, wake up!” Sasha half heard through her drunken dream.

 

“Ummmtooearly,” the spy groaned, trying to roll over only to be pinned her vast belly.

 

A hard pinch to the boob made the obese rebel shriek, but a hard hand was over her mouth to end the sound.

 

“Sasha, you’ve got to wake up. It’s the day,” Lillian whispered in her ear.

 

“The...the what?” the exhausted Sasha muttered.

 

“The day of revolution! The King’s rule has been weakening for months, haven’t you noticed the servant’s whispering? The Secret Police raided Sister Drayla’s hide out and dragged her into the streets, but the people rose up against them! The whole city is in arms, garrisons are falling and the palace is going to fall!” Lillian said excitedly, grinning, “All the servants and guards were called away to help load Queen Evelyn into the royal airship as the King runs to the island fortresses, but they’ll be back for the harem girls. We’ve got to run and hide before they get back!”

 

“Ohhh, um...good, I guess,” Sasha gulped.

 

Everything she’d worked for had come to fruition, the King’s once invincible regime seemed poised to fall. But all the spy could think of was not her ruined childhood or fight filled youth, but how she was going to miss being pampered and spoiled and overfed.

 

Lillian didn’t bother trying to tie on a harem girl outfit to Sasha’s spoiled curves. Instead she dragged a night shirt over the other strawberry blonde’s obese frame. It was stretched transparent and didn’t cover Sasha’s sex, but her tummy chub was doing that anyway. The spy was up to three hundred and fifty pounds, all concentrated in her torso, making her an ungainly super apple with titties fatter than a dairy cow.

 

“Hold on, phew, let me rest a minute. Maybe get me a few pastries to catch my breath,” Sasha begged, trying to sit down only for Lillian to haul her up to her feet.

 

“No time love, we’ve got to move! Don’t worry, I’ve got us a hiding place,” Lillian smiled.

 

The noble girl looked lean and athletic. She had a bit of a thigh gap now and her tits were impossibly perky, her stomach having only the slightest bit of curve. Lillian might qualify as just athletically thick now.

 

“But I’ll bring some oil and butter with us, in case you get stuck!” Lillian said, looking over Sasha’s girth.

 

The spy was pushed across the gardens, the whole harem in chaos. Plump, spoiled girls were rising from their beds and shrieking to find the servants had all run off, while those who stood on the parapets noticed most of the city seemed aflame. Sasha was soon too out of breath to notice the chaos, whining and gasping as Lillian pushing her to the servant’s tunnels, her breasts beginning to tear her shirt and threatening to hit her in the face!

 

“Please, let me set down, my *gasp* thighs are burning,” the once nimble woman moaned, “and I *pant* can’t catch my breath! Running like this hurts *ugh* my boobs!”

 

“Don’t worry love, you’ll be safe here!” Lillian said, pausing by the narrow entrance to the tunnels and looking at her very wide girlfriend, “alright, pause a minute while I get you oiled up and ready.”

 

Lillian ripped Sasha’s clothes away and began rubbing oil and butter onto her body. Sasha didn’t help beyond trying to eat some of the butter, but was soon shoved into the narrow servant’s tunnels. Thanks to the grease she was able to go a bit but soon stone held the red head like a cork in a bottle, but she was soon shoved in enough for Lillian to get in after her and close the door.

 

‘Ugh, I’m *pant* stuck, I can’t move!” Sasha whined, heart racing, “what’s happening!”

 

Lillian kissed her deeply, slipping in tongue and touching one oiled up breast.

 

“It’s the revolution darling, the glorious cause where the great and proud will be made weak and humble!” Lillian grinned, “Stay right here, I’m going to go get the gates open for the rebels!”

 

Lillian climbed over her obese lover and vanished into the night, leaving Sasha alone. Hungry and scared, the spy slowly began to realize that she’d eaten herself helplessly obese. The revolution she’d dreamed of had occurred and she was too weak to help. In a den of obese noble girls, she’d become the fattest and laziest of all!

 

“No, this isn’t fair, I’ve got to...urp, get out of here and lead the revolution!” Sasha muttered, slowly sobering up into this horrible reality.

 

She began to shuffle backwards, whimpering as the stone chaffed her hips. Her sagging, weakened ass hit the door after nearly half an hour of sweating, panting effort. Heaving breath covered up the signs of battle outside, Sasha obsessed with her own struggle. However, the obscenely fat redhead had no ability to turn around and open the door.

 

“Ugh, come on! This isn’t fair!” Sasha moaned, only for the door to open behind her!

 

Snorts and giggles sounded as several rebels saw a fat stack of back rolls and breasts swelled so big they could almost be seen from behind.

 

“Well well, looks like we found the only other harem girl, Lady Lillian,” a lean female officer said, “grown so fat she got stuck trying to hide!”

 

“Lillian? No, no I”m Sasha! Sasha, I’m a rebel *hiccup*, a *gasp* rebel!” the stuck, obscenely fat spy said, “I’m under *urp* cover!”

 

More laughter met her claims, “Sasha helped us into the palace, I saw her myself. She’s a third your size, you spoiled lardass! Sergeant, pop her out of there and get some clothes on her. She’s going into jail as a collaborateur with the King’s regime!”

 

Sasha was hauled out, spear butts levering her soft bulk from the tunnel. She hit the ground like a sack of fat, wailing that she was a spy. Chains were put about her plump wrists and within an hour Sasha was hauled from the comfort of the palace harem to the cold grey stone of Cell-Ulite Prison. Three rebel guard shoved the obese woman into a small cell and forced the gate shut, her belly jiggling as the iron banged into it. 

 

The spy whimpered, realization slowly dawning through her unfamiliar pain that she was back in the very same cell she’d once found herself in!

 

“I ...I can escape, escape and show I am me!” Sasha whined, mind panicking at the sudden turn of events, “I just need to climb up!”

 

The spy tried to scramble up the stones as she had months earlier, only to predictably fail. Her limbs were weak and her fingers feeble, she couldn’t get a hold on the stone. Even if she could, her spherical belly and gigantic tits pressed her away from the wall! But desperation drove her on and after hours of frantic effort, the hyper ventilating woman managed to haul herself up…

 

About a foot above the ground.

Sasha held on with every ounce of her pitiful strength, looking at the barred windows high above. She knew deep down that even if by a miracle she could reach them, her fifty inch waistline would never get through them, but the spy felt that she had to try after so many months of failure.

 

“Lillian!” a high voice called from down the hallway.

 

Sasha was taken by surprise, to the point she lost her grip and fell. She landed on her butt and plopped forwards, gut slamming into the gate. The iron barrier popped open and made Sasha fall right on her tits, cheeks burning less with pain and more at the realization that the guards had seen her as so little a threat that they’d neglectd to lock her door.

 

And she hadn’t even thought to try opening it!

 

“Lillian, oh you poor thing. This must be so strange to someone as spoiled as you!” the real Lillian called out, running to Sasha’s side.

 

The once plump noble girl was wearing new clothes: tight white breaches and a low cut black jacket. It showed off her firm leg muscles, while the sash holding her sword made her waist look small. And her pert tits seemed ready to leap from the jacket, jiggling in time with several jangling medals.

 

“Lill-lillian?” Sasha groaned in confusion.

 

“Yes, that’s your name love, oh you must be so confused. I hope you didn’t hit your head,” the real Lillian grinned, helping her obese lover up with a show of strength, “Come now my spoiled little noble girl, I’ll take you to our new home.”

 

The confused strawberry blonde was walked through the prison to a carriage. Rebel guards and soldiers saluted her lean girlfriend, referring to her as “General Sasha” or “First Consul Sasha”.

 

“So sorry I couldn’t come for you sooner, my lovely Lillian. But things were a bit confused at the palace after the King and Queen flew the coop. The Rebellion needed a new leader and well, I stepped into it. Some people want to make me Queen Sasha but that’s a bit much, First Consul Sasha is fine,” Lillian explained with a smile.

 

“But, but, but I’m -,” the real Sasha tried to whine, only for Lillian to put a finger to her plump lips and pop a chocolate morsel into the obese woman’s mouth.

 

“The First Consul’s beloved concubine and soon to be wife? The mother of my children once I find a suitable stud to breed you? Which will be soon, as you’re almost too big to bear young,” the former noble girl smiled, gripping a roll of fat, “But you must be looking forwards to a life of total and complete luxury, where you never have to again lift a finger? Is that what you were going to say, Lillian?”

 

The obese, huge breasted strawberry blonde gave a gulp.

 

“Of course I was, Sasha. Can I get some breakfast, I’m so, so tired and hungry,” the concubine complained, “my back hurts and I feel weak…”

 

“Well, we can’t have that Lillian, can we? Lets get you home, bathed, fed and in bed. I know winning a revolution has certainly raised my appetite for you,” ‘Sasha’ smiled.

[SilverPathfinder]

And here is our increasingly soft and decadent (not so) little operative in all her busty glory :

[riptoryx]

Decadently humiliating reversal is always so fun! 

[Batman76]

The first half of our next collab, trainee Sorceress Evangelina is already in the middle of a career derailing weight gain when a chance for extra credit causes an even greater growth...

 

The Widening Witch:

The downfall of Weit-Gainberg’s monarchy was like the collapse of a mighty oak in a forest. Seeds long dormant were at last exposed to sunlight and began to grow, sprouting up to combat with each other for water and sun. Sorcery, long distrusted by the powerful royals, flourished under the benevolent reign of the Consulship, which viewed the mages as a way to secure its own power.

 

Seventh sons of peasants who would have been burned at the stakes and homely merchant’s daughters who would have been banished to nunneries were instead brought to the capitol and educated by handpicked tutors. Mastering the elements included learning to control human, allowing even those born crooked and deformed to become alluringly, perfectly beautiful, the better to use their own self confidence as fuel for their spells.

 

Of course, the ancient curse of haughty beauties in Weit-Gainberg hadn’t changed, as one starry eyed young mage was about to find out…

 

…..

 

Evangelina de ‘Ubris had overcome several challenges in her short twenty years of life.

 

Born a homely youngest daughter to minor rural gentry, Evangelina had spent her earliest days teased and tormented for buck teeth, a single eyebrow, and a rather spherical, lumpy shape. But she’d kept her nose in her books, exercising her mind and eventually developing budding magical powers that drew the interest of Weit-Gainberg’s magical university. She’d been whisked off in her late teens, judged to be a truly promising student and had every single imperfection fixed to become a jaw dropping beauty, who’s looks reflected her inner power.

 

The recast Evangelina had decided to be short and delicately petite, a perfectly girlish 5’3. She had ivory skin pale and perfect as a porcelain doll, save the innocent bursts of freckles. They dotted her upturned nose and the high cheeks of her heart shaped face, complimenting huge eyes green as spring grass. Wild curls black as midnight hung down her narrow shoulders to her tiny waist, enchanted so as to need no brushing. That belly was a tiny, flat twenty inches, concave and unbelievably small. Evangelina’s hips were girlishly narrow, with her small butt tight as a drum, leading to slender legs with a gap seemingly wide enough for a royal airship to pass between. After having biomancy cast upon her, the only fat on the svelte young woman’s body was in a pair of perfectly pomegranate sized breasts, the rest of her lean as a whip. 

 

When paired with elegant gowns and opulent dresses bought by her generous allowance, the homely Evangelina de ‘Ubris had become one of the fairest young women in Weit-Gainberg.

 

“Curse you, fit!” Evangelina snarled, melodious voice boiling angry as she fought with a corset before her mirror.

 

Of course, she was still in Weit-Gainberg.

 

The young sorceress glared at herself in the mirror, willing herself to return to the fatless perfection of but a few months ago. But no matter how her emerald eyes glared, Evangelina’s body remained the same: pleasantly plump.

 

A long green skirt was stretched over wide hips, its brass side buttons clinging on for dear life between diamonds of squishy fat. Above them, Evangelina’s tiny, perfect waist had been buried by fat, bulging out to a terrifyingly thick 33 inches. A pink, underbust front snap corset was desperately wrapped around it, the lower snaps unable to get a hold on each other separated as they were by the puffy mound of Evangelina’s thick, cream covered navel. That stomach wobbled and jiggled as the young mage hauled at her corset’s unmoving flaps, turned into a bloated joke over the past months. Her struggles also brought groans from the upper part of her corset, where freckled, white melons of her mammaries were barely constrained. Obesity had taken Evangelina’s chest from seductive to immense, each tit easily bigger than her head.

 

“This is a size medium corset, I can fit into this I can fit into this, I can!” the determined, raven haired sorceress huffed, face getting redder as mundane means to get the flaps done up failed.

 

A glance at her clock showed that class was due to start soon, with Evangelina still quite behind schedule!

 

“Damn it all, all right, I’ll do this just this once...more…,” the brunette woman gulped, breathing in as deep as her constraining garment let her and closing her eyes.

 

When she opened them again, the green orbs were pure silver and white fog gushed from her mouth.

 

“Enlargio…,” Evangelina commanded, feeling the corset loosen to a size more suitable for her girth.

 

She got it done up quickly, the pink fabric getting the chubby mage squeezed into an hour glass shape but one with a waist over the 30’ limit her sisterhood’s rules demanded. Knowing what had to be done, Evangelina sucked in as deeply as she could and cast the counter spell:

 

“Reducio!”, she hissed, snarling as the fabric obeyed.

 

Corsets were normally quite comfortable, when they fit. As it reduced a full size category, the pink girdle became a torture device. Evangelina felt the very life squeezed out of her, breasts rising up almost to her chin and belly screaming to be relaxed. But a quick use of her enchanted measuring tape showed that she was at exactly 29.5 inches now, a perfectly acceptable number for a young sorceress.

 

Not good or laudable or anywhere as small as it should be, but ...acceptable.

 

Taking short breaths, Evangelina grabbed her grimoire from where the heavy book sat on the table and left her attic apartments. They were not the towering silver pinnacles of a master sorceress but to the student’s pride they weren’t the single rooms of an under classman. Having reached her junior year Evangelina had been given the privilege of finding her own housing instead of living in the carefully monitored dorm rooms.

 

Which the mage was coming to regret. 

 

For as she hurried down the stairs, swaying hips coming close to the narrow walls, Evangelina’s nose was put under assault. Not anything foul, for the rich student’s home was carefully chosen far from cess pit or tannery, but with something...perfect. Crisp crust, sweet sugar, sinful cinnamon and tart fruit, a combination almost designed to pack fat onto the figure! It made the very curvy woman hurry a little faster, all while trying to keep the stairs from groaning and giving herself away as she tried to move silently into the main room.

 

“Ah, morning Evangelina!” Christos beamed from across a steamy counter, “I had something I wanted you to try!”

 

The sorceress could have sworn she heard the steel jaws of a bear trap closing in on her, inescapable and merciless. But she was busty trying not to drool as she turned.

 

“Ah, Christos, apologies but I really...must...be...unnnhhh,” Evangelina blinked.

 

Beautiful she might have become, but the sorceress hadn’t yet gotten over being an awkward nerd. Attention from handsome young men was quite intriguing to her, a new rush to the ego and well, the sex. And the owner of the shop beneath her apartment was quite a rush indeed: tall and tanned skin, with hair like autumn wheat and eyes like the sea, added with muscles that seemed to glow from bronze. She felt herself getting wet just looking at him, her intellect fading away...as he held up a massive fruit tart.

 

“Here, I knew you liked cherries so I wanted to see how this tasted,” the handsome young baker smiled as the sorceress approached.

 

“Oh I’m sure its wonderful, but I must be heading on. I’m almost late and I’ve been um...eating...oh this is good…,” the helpless mage moaned, her magic firing off without her permission to bring the tart into her mouth.

 

Evangelina ate like a hungry piglet, leaving not a crumb. She didn’t slow as she ate the paving brick thick tart even when her painfully pinned stomach began to scream, nor did she notice a few small pops that reduced her discomfort. For the baffling thing was, as handsome and kind and strong as the young baker was, his cooking was even better. Recreational drug use was part of any sorceress’ repertoire, but the taste of this tart was a better high than the finest southern hashish.

 

“Would you like another one for the road?” Christos asked her, grinning at her smile.

 

It took a moment for Evangelina’s breathing to settle, she was quite close to coming just from the taste alone. She closed her eyes and tried to not hyper ventilate, deciding to point out she was going to teleport into class and had no need for a snack on the way. That she was about to pop out of this corset and was clearly in dire need of a diet.

 

“How about two?” she smiled instead, “it’s a long walk.”

 

A minute later, the bakery owner watched the girl go. His heart had fluttered at her smile and his member was rock hard at her hips sashaying through the door. Christos cursed himself as he did every day for not making his feelings clear to her, as though a baker could ever hold a sorceress’ attention, and decided to get to work for the morning rush, cleaning crumbs off the counter.

 

“Hmm, what are these buttons doing here?” he asked himself, not quite recognizing a pair of snaps broken off Evangelina’s lower corset…

 

                    ….

Evangelina had no need to run through the streets to get to class. Late Spring warmth and an unfamiliarity with exercise were not going to bring a flood of sweat from her brow, running her magically applied makeup and turning her tight top transparent across her breasts. Her unconditioned breathing was not going to strain her plump torso against her merciless corset until the fabric ripped away. Effort was not going to paint her cheeks crimson and chafe her delicate inner thighs red as she hurried to get to class on time.

 

As a third year sorceress, she could teleport to the palatial campus of the magical college at will...which probably explained why she’d gotten so tubby so quickly.

 

The emerald eyed brunette was still breathing a bit hard when she got into the cavernous, larger on the inside than theoutside lecure hall/firing range for Channeling 306 though. Although the only exertion Evangelina had under gone was stuffing two heavy fruit tarts into an already full tummy, making even light breathing torture. And the redness on her face came from the pure lust of being near her handsome neighbor Christos, which was bit by bit transferring over to eating, turning gluttony itself into an erotic act.

 

Evangelina’s over plump, jiggly figure was a sharp contrast from the rest of the twenty odd young women. The sorceresses in training were stunningly gorgeous, with long silky hair, flawless complections and leggy, curvaceous bodies. More than half wore corsets, but that wasn’t a real issue, their order understanding that even an enchantress could go up a size or two, especially during the stressful final’s week, as long as they stayed below a 30inch waist during term and got back to fighting weight by next semester. None seemed worried, nor had they reason too when the next heaviest girl was fifty pounds lighter than Evangelina and four inches taller. 

 

“Late again Evangelina?” a luxurious voice asked the raven haired girl as she settled her things at her table.

 

“I am perfectly on time, the Professor hasn’t even arrived yet,” Evangelina huffed, “as you should notice Giselle.”

 

Evangelina’s desk mate cocked a cruel smile, revealing sharp white teeth, “I wasn’t referring to class, but rather your apparent gravid state…”

 

Giselle and Evangelina had never gotten along, academic rivals from the start. Both were former shy fat girls turned powerful beauties but for Giselle the transformation into a rail thin ginger with a ballerina’s lithe muscles on her long body had brought a healthy dose of cruel arrogance. Especially as her rival began to return to obesity, right now shown oh so well by Evangelina’s swollen stomach bulging through the two broken snaps of her lower corset.

 

“My contraceptive spells are quite in order, you should check your own though. I hear that after a hundred different cocks per month they can wear off,” Evangelina said snidely.

 

“A hundred per month? Do you think me some sort of puritan?” the tanned, toned redhead smiled, “I had half the Consular Guard just last week…”

 

Evangelina felt a shiver of envy. Her own romantic senses had gotten a bit ...weaker since she’d started bulking up and she was entering a prolonged dry spell, which wasn’t helping her eating habits. But she wasn’t going to stop trading barbs.

 

“Strange, you’d think you wouldn’t have time to keep yout chest topped up with that level of business,” Evangelina returned.

 

A glare hit Giselle’s bright blue eyes. A rare allergy to breast expansion magic meant the ginger sorceress had to depend on alchemical concoctions to keep her D cups full. And the potions had a limited duration, having led to an occasional embarrassing wardrobe flop last fall’s formal when Giselle had gone from busty to flat chested in a minute’s span.

 

“Yes, I should ask you what you do to keep yours so ...ballooned. Strawberry tarts?” she asked, sticking out a finger and outrageously scooping up a droplet of juice the gluttonous Evangelina had accidentally spilled, “No, cherry. What, six or seven a day? Shame they come with a gut like that.”

 

Evangelina’s retort was cut off by the crackle of another teleport,their professor  Lady Carlita arriving in a display of finesse and power. The dark skin woman had platinum curls to her knees, framing a leggy, athletic frame painted into a skin tight golden gown and an innocent face despite her century of life. She didn’t deign to let her priceless high heels touch the ground, floating in a field of anti-gravity that made her cantaloupe breasts look astounding.

 

“Girls, it is time for finals. Find a spot on the range and begin casting your entire repertoire of spells until I say to stop,” the powerful enchantress ordered, “If you wish to pass the class, you will not falter until my command. This should be easy for you...unless you’ve developed issues with your body of late…”

 

Evangelina felt a pit opening up in her full belly as she found her spot. A sorceress’ magic came from within, tempered by her own self confidence and belief in her abilities. It was one of the reasons why female magicians put so much effort into their appearances, for self doubt could cripple your ability to cast. And having just spent her morning cramming her 200lb bulk into a too small corset and then being stuffed sick and then losing an exchange of insults hadn’t done good things to Evangelina’s ego.

 

Getting up with a bit more effort than she’d admit, pale fat pushing out through the as yet unnoticed gap in her corset, Evangelina hurried towards an open position. Trying very hard not to let her thighs touch didn’t help her reserves of magical power. Evangelina started strong with fire balls and lightning bolts on the down range target, feeling magical power shoot through her in an envigorating passion. Professor Carlita gave an approving “Hmm” as she floated behind her doing a circuit of examinations but by the time the hovering platinum blonde returned, Evangelina was sputtering. She was down to color sprays and acid arrows, mere first level spells far beneath her. Sweat was coating her body, staining her green skirt black and sticking her white blouse to her breasts. The threads on another corset clasp were visibly stretching, preparing to blow as she breathed heavily. Even worse, Giselle stood next to her looking fresh as a daisy as she cast fireball after fireball.

 

“Hrmmmm,” Carlita said disapprovingly, not floating away to Evangelina’s chagrin.

 

Being watched didn’t help Evangelina’s esteem. She redoubled her efforts but found the results foundering, soon only the merest cantrips coming forth from her fingers. The overfed mage put all of her effort into it but even acid blasts and fire bolts were starting to sputter! 

 

Perhaps it was her heavy breathing or perhaps a quick cutting spell from Giselle’s deep reserves, but soon her corset gave up the ghosts. The brunette didn’t hear it over the explosions and zaps, but felt cool air touching her belly and her breasts rising and falling without restraint. She looked down in shock, seeing pale and sweety flab hanging out unhidden and very much above 30 inches at the waist.

 

“See me after class, Miss Evangelina. We’ve very...weighty matters to discuss,” Lady Carlita said gravely, “you can stop casting now, perhaps this lifestyle wasn’t suited to you…”

 

A small burst of magic shot out from the professor, turning Evangelina’s shredded, outgrown finery into the loose and unflattering gown of a peasant girl. The message was blatant and obvious: evangelina wasn’t fit to be a sorceress.

 

For the next few minutes, as the other sorceress’ packed their bags and departed, Evangelina stared in an embarrassed funk. She’d failed, failed so utterly her whole future was at risk!

 

“Oh don’t despair Evangelina, you’ve got all summer to try and lose that flubber! And if you don’t well, back to being an unwanted younger daughter you go!” Giselle teased viciously as she packed her bag, pausing to poke Evangelina’s flabby belly, “Why with all the fat you packed on, it’ll be like nothing changed once they take your magic away! Especially when the beauty spells on you are undone and you get your original face back! Perhaps if you get heavy enough it’ll distract from your buck teeth! Farewell though, I’ve been invited to spend the summer at the Duke of Parfait’s castle, to advise and entertain all his strapping sons and pretty daughters. Have fun!”

 

Evangelina barely heard her rival, her own sense of doom grounding her flat. As the last girl left, Professor Carlita hovered over. The perfect sorceress had been known to be lover to several Consuls and had turned the tide of several battles with her limitless firepower. She was not known for mercy.

 

“You know exactly why you failed today, yes?” Carlita asked, perfect brow arched.

 

“I...I’ve put on a bit of weight,” Evangelina gulped.

 

“A bit? When I needed my dress let out after the Equinox festival that was a ‘bit’ of weight,” the platinum blonde said, hand on a shapely hip, “You’ve become flat out obese Evangelina. A disgrace to our station! Our unending beauty advertises our power and more importantly our control! Our self discipline! And you lack control to such a degree that you burst your clothes!”

 

Evangelina wilted, willing herself to stand up, “I...I’m still a sorceress. I can still cast, can I not?”

 

“Barely, you had the worse stamina in the entire class. My standards are very high because we cannot afford failures,” Carlita said, disappointment dripping in her voice, “if you can’t resist pastries you can’t resist a curse or a mind control charm. You, flatly, are a weakness, which will have to be expunged. Which saddens me, as you entered my class with the highest grade point average of your year and seemingly limitless potential. Which is why you are being given a single chance.”

 

The brunette, perched on an eternity of being stripped of power and married off to some gross blacksmith twice her age, looked up with sudden hope.

 

“I will do it, no matter what Lady Carlita!” she promised.

 

“I’m sure, knowing the penalty. A cohort of mine, one Lady Rosaline is in need of an assistant this summer to help with a most hazardous experiment. One that I would normally never, ever risk a student on,” Carlita told her, “but you will be extremely suitable given your...condition.”

 

                ….

Evangelina’s evening should have been most enjoyable.

 

A decadent dinner at one of the city’s finest clubs, ending with her tiny silk dress on the floor of a handsome young rake and his face between her legs. But six months living above one of the best pastry shops in Weit-Gainberg had put her at a size where she couldn’t enjoy herself. Sneaking back into her room to avoid Christos seeing her in the embarrassing, tent like peasant gown, the 200lb enchantress spent the night sweating.

 

Push ups that made her plush arms tremble and smacked the floor with her bulging belly. Squats that made her well padded butt and thick thighs scream for mercy. Sit ups that split her pampered paunch into a dozen deep rolls. Anything to try and remove all this career ending blubber that threatened to knock Evangelina from a sorceress’ life of privilege, ease and beauty back to common class drudgery, homeliness and mortality. She worked well past dinner, sweating and panting in a tiny pair of lingerie that threatened to pop off her chubby body.

 

“Gurggggggggggggllleeeee,” came her belly’s response to that routine.

 

“Huff, hush you,” the sweating sorceress gasped, trying to catch her breath, “you’ve had enough sweets for a life time! Look at what you’ve done to me, I’m fatter than I’ve ever been! Because of you eating everything Christos bakes, like...like you’re a piglet suckling a sow. Just because he’s, so...broad shouldered and handsome…”

 

The immensely sore Evangelina felt a surge of arousal thinking of the gorgeous baker...and an accompanying increase of hunger, given how the emotions had become entwined. Between soreness, horniness, anxiety and hunger, she got very little sleep that night. Come morning, she had to spend a lot of time on her makeup routine to hide the bags beneath her eyes and on her clothing, choosing a very low cut green dress with an Imperial waist that hid her new corset decently.

 

“It can’t be that bad, its not like my whole career is on the line,” the magician said as she telekinetically applied make up to the plump girl in her mirror, “that if I fail I’ll still be fat and have a monobrow to boot! Ugh, and it’s Lady Rosaline. One of the fiercest sorceress’ in the kingdom, Lady Carlita is a cream puff compared to her!”

 

Gulping, feeling nervous and hungry at the same time, the sorceress finished her routine and did her dress up. It was time to go outside and teleport to her new assignment, but that also had the danger of going through the bakery. Evangelina looked at the window, considering sneaking out that way...and rejecting it.

 

“Its far too narrow and I’m far too fat,” the plump girl sighed, begrudging herself to tip toe downstairs, “ugh I must tell him I’ve found a new place to live. I love the food here but if I stay much longer I’ll be too fat to leave!”

 

When she arrived, Christos wasn’t there, thank the Gods. Evangelina had had to shoe horn herself into this dress and didn’t need another caloric bomb blowing her out of it. He must be out making a delivery or running an errand, meaning she could escape without having to pick up a single tart...like the ones in the basket hanging from the door knob, with a note to her.

 

“I’m just going to open the letter and...oh how sweet,” the portly mage cooed, “oh he wanted to make sure I didn’t get hungry today, how dear...but I can’t eat these. I’ll bust a seam...again. But I’d break his heart if I didn’t take them. I’ll just take the basket and toss them outside...after a sample…”

 

When she teleported to Lady Rosaline’s mansion, Evangelina did so with a basket of baked goods in one hand and her second tart of the day in the other. Unthinking of how tight her dress was already, the raven haired mage was on cloud nine as she feasted, thinking of Christos’ muscular form. She wasn’t paying attention to where she was going or where she was, which was a beautiful garden full of out of season flowers and tinkling fountains.

 

Lady Rosaline was known to be one of the most powerful and ruthless sorceresses in the Consulship of Weit-Gainberg. She lived far from civilization in a self-sustaining palace, obsessed with herself and her own studies. Had Evangelina looked at anything but her next snack, she’d have seen Lady Rosaline everywhere. The bronze, water spewing naiad statues that danced naked in the fountain showed the master’ sorceress’ tiny 20 inch waistline and melon sized bust. The marble pillars holding up the fortress’ arched roof were carved into the great enchantress’ beautiful form, long legs perfectly muscled and barred bellies showing taught abdominals.

 

But Evangelina didn’t notice, so enraptured she walked right into the actual Lady Rosaline!

 

It was like colliding with a brick wall, knocking Evangelina to her padded rump. Blinking in confusion she looked up and up, for the older sorceress was fully six feet tall...and to her surprise, to the side.

 

“You are extremely late, I have been standing here for *huff* minutes. Have you any idea what that takes for a *munch* lady of my size?” Lady Rosaline asked.

 

Evangelina was fat by any rational measure. Her chin jiggled and her thighs rubbed, her belly touched her legs when she sat down and her tits were swollen with fat. But Lady Rosaline, one of the most powerful mages in the known world, was huge.

 

The six footer was even wider than she was tall, turned into a humanoid sphere. Creased, crinkled and folded fat slabs hung from her formless waist past her engorged thighs and down almost to her ankles. Grain sack breasts hung like pendulums in in a bra big enough for Evangelina to use as a top. So thick were her arms that they stood out to her side, almost vestigial with fingers that would barely close. She was eating, even as Evangelina watched the senior mage used telekinesis to thrust fried meat into her mouth, which made an army of chins waddle. The only thing of her that remained were her ankled length golden curls and piercing blue eyes, swollen almost shut by her cheeks. A bed sheet covered her torso, made transparent by sweat even in the cool morning air, and failing to reach her navel. Only the sorceress’ sheer bulk protected her dignity.

 

“I’m...I’m...oh dear,” Evangelina gasped, unsure if she was horrified or aroused.

 

“You must be Evangelina, dear Carlita mentioned you were quite porky,” Rosaline huffed, trying to cross her arms but failing due to the sheer bulk of her torso, “Well, pick up those snacks and hurry along. We’re behind schedule and we’ve important work to do!”

 

Rosaline began turning...a slow, cumbersome process. She was the only sorceress Evangelina had ever seen wear slippers instead of high heels, no one must have made them in her size. On swollen feet she shuffled slowly, slowly, slowly around, breathing heavily and grunting as her joints popped. When she stopped, the sorceress began waddling forwards, having to angle her whole body to slide one forty five inch thigh past the other. 

 

Marveling at the cream cheese avalanche of her endless asscheeks, Evangelina got quickly to her feet and followed after her new mentor. Not a hard task given how Rosaline moved slower than a turtle in Molasses.

 

“Um, pardon me Lady Rosaline,” Evangelina asked in confusion, “I was told this was worth extra credit but not, exactly what these experiments were about…”

 

“They’re *puff* *huff* *gasp* *puff* about,” the spherical blonde gasped a few times before giving up. 

 

Rosaline leaned against a statue of her old, svelte form and took a momne to get her breath back.

 

“Oh Gods, phew, we’re creating a new form of magic,” Rosaline gasped at last, “weight loss magic.”

 

“Weight...weight loss magic?” Evangelina asked in shock, thinking of a world where she could eat Christos’ food every meal without worrying about her waist.

 

“Yes, specifically *huff*,” the immense older sorceress wheezed, “how to transfer all of this fat…*gasp* onto you.”

[Batman76]

Okay, woo, sorry for the delay on this one:

Evangelina’s mood was not improved by luncheon.

 

Her appetite, mixed together with her libido, had become seriously disordered. The young witch was over eating most days, not caring about all the calories stretching out her belly until it came time to squeeze into too tight clothes. Anything that her secret crush Christos waved in front of her nose had to go down her mouth, no matter how wide she got.

 

But seeing Lady Rosaline eat was putting her off food forever.

 

“It all *munch* *crunch* *gulp*,” Rosaline began, only to be cut off by food flying into her mouth.

 

The senior sorceress was less sat and more collapsed onto a divan, the couch groaning at her amorphous blob of a body. Fat hung off of it in all directions, from her ass to her thighs to her gut to her breasts. Every inch of her flabby acreage was dripping with sweat from the quarter hour and hundred yard walk into this room, during which the spherical enchantress had stopped to rest now less than three times.

 

Evangelina just sat on the opposite side of a circular table with her mouth hanging open as the older woman ate, a gorging session that made her own stomach churn. Rosaline’s bloated arms were folded across her apron of a gut, sausage fingers poking and prodding and massaging the swelling stomach under all that adipose. Minor magic was levitating slices of creamy cheesecake or dripping cuts of sauced veal or steaming halves of pie out of clearly enchanted cookware, for each crumb was instantly replaced, and then inserted into Rosaline’s open mouth. 

 

Sorceresses were renowned for their decorum and cleanliness, but the ginger witch ate like a pig. Her jowls were smeared with sauce and the cheap fabric of her poncho was stained with drippings. Worst of all were the satisfied grunting sounds she made as she devoured her food, starting low and rising high, unmistakably sexual pleasure. If Evangelina hadn’t been certain at the insane display, Rosaline trying and failing to get banana bunch fingers under the canyon of her collapsed gut to touch her sex confirmed it. The swollen digits flickered a minor cantrip and Evangelina’s  green eyes widened to see a sex toy, a whitled unicorn horn, shoot out of another room and disappear between the fat rolls of Rosaline’s thighs. Apart from the odd gasp it seemed to merely hold the red haired blob at an acceptable level of pleasure.

 

“Um, it all what?” Evangelina asked, voice a mousey whisper and brain refusing to accept all this fat was going to go onto her own merely plush and plump body.

 

“It all what what?” Rosaline gasped, panting as if she’d just run a hundred miles, “Ugh, need uhf, a drink…”

 

The cork of a champagne bottle popped and a minute later three fourths of the bubbling bottle was down Rosaline’s mouth, the rest splattered across her breasts.

 

“Anyway, Urp, stay to the point. This all started because I decided to visit the Dahomenay Amazon clan in the northern jungles,” the swollen sorceress grunted, “they’re an ancient group, among the oldest human civilizations with very powerful magic and *hiccup* unique rituals. I went there to learn how they manage parthenogenesis…*crunch*”

 

Evangelina sighed as her mentor began gorging again. Her own fingers pressed into her plush paunch, stretching the green fabric of her gown tight, and tried to imagine how her not so little tummy would feel hanging down past her knees like Rosaline’s vast gut. She had no idea how it would feel...but did have to admit that Rosaline was enjoying her feast more than any sexual encounter Evangelina had had.

 

“How did they manage parthenogenesis?” Evangelina asked when another caloric hurricane had gone down Rosaline’s mouth.

 

“What? Parthenogenesis? That’s a myth, the Amazons are very attractive. They just find a man and well, fuck him,” Rosaline burped, “I should have left after I found that out, but I was invited to a fertility ritual and randomly selected to be the *urp* lucky participant.”

 

Evangelina could only blink, “So you were...impregnated? Or cursed to be so...fat?”

 

“What no, don’t be *gulp* ridiculous,” the obscenely fat woman panted, jowls wobbling as she gulped down most of a strawberry cheese cake, “I was just fed...fed very very well while three or six Amazon girls went to town on every orifice. The first time was the most surprising and arousing experience of my life.”

 

The younger sorceress continued blinking. Rosaline’s total lack of shame was astounding to her.

 

“As were the nine hundred or so days after that,” Rosaline belched again, fat layers rippling at the terrific burp, “I knew of course I’d gain some weight, but told myself going up a size was worth all the oral. After all, I was so skinny some curves could *burp* help. Once I outgrew my dress I said I’d leave...but by day, ugh, by day *pant* three I’d gone native and stopped wearing clothes.”

 

The red faced, immense ginger paused. Evangelina thought for a moment that Rosaline was waiting for her to say something, then realized the colossal sorceress was just so out of breath from the act of talking she needed a moment to recover. After another bottle of champagne, the obese blob continued:

 

“So then my limit became my thighs touching but I was already being carried about on a sedan chair instead of walking so that was rather useless. I suppose I should have gone with not being able to see my feet but the Amazons have a splendid herb that increases bust size so I didn’t know how big my belly was getting until it over filled my lap. I knew I was getting bigger and bigger but it wasn’t until I got stuck inside the hut they’d given me I realized I was a bit more than padded. Honestly if the door was wider I’d still be there, getting serviced ten times a day…”

 

The wistful look on Rosaline’s face caught Evangelina further off guard than seeing the famed beauty rotund. An image shot into her mind, of herself laying on a bed, bare and plush and plump as Christos fed her pastry after pastry. Noticing she was sweating, she cleared her throat.

 

“So you need my help to develop a weight removal spell….,” the plump young sorceress said.

 

“No girl, I need *urp* you to absorb all of this blubber,” Rosaline said between belches, “I’m a genius girl, I figured out the spell months ago. But being surrounded by statues and paintings of my old self and comparing it to my current...size, well I’ve just...unffff...gotten distracted since then…”

 

The immense Rosaline had placed her sausage fingers onto her tea saucer aerola, massaging the heavy puffs of her breasts. She closed her eyes, moaning high.  Evangelina went red as a beet, unable to turn away as the spherical Rosaline masturbated in front of her for several minutes. Improbably, her disgust faded and she felt herself get wet! How could this human whale pleasuring herself possibly be arousing?

 

After a long, long shuttering scream that left the quarter ton redhead gasping for long minutes, she continued as if nothing had happened...after stopping to devour another pie.

 

 “As you can see,” Rosaline explained, wiping off her lips with her sweat ruined towel, “I’m hopelessly addicted to eating. The ritual magic I absorbed during my feeding has gotten all mixed up with my libido and I need to eat constantly. Only by turning my appetite and weight into a curse I can pass on can I lose weight, so I needed a willing ...subject to take all of my excess.”

 

Fear spiked in Evangelina’s plump breast, thinking on just how fucking big her senior was, “as big...as big as you? But you’re huge! If I’m that big I’ll be kicked out of school, depowered, sent back to life as a peasant! But far fatter than i was, Gods my parents would sell me to a circus as a fat lady, i’d be a side show freak for the rest of my days and UMP!”

 

Rosaline grunted as the younger sorceress ranted. A flick of her finger set a big slice of cake flying into the hyper ventilating Evangelina’s mouth.

 

“Now that you’re quiet, think for a moment. I’m one of the senior sorceress’ in the Consulship, with a note from me you’ll be excused from weight for the rest of your life. And if I wanted to just dump the fat I’d find some peasant maid,” Rosaline said, “once you’ve absorbed all of my extra weight, I’ll teach you the charm to transfer it to some other sorceress.”

 

Evangelina’s brows knitted as she swallowed, “But...but then wouldn’t it be someone else’s problem? Wouldn’t I ruin there lives?”

 

“You know the rules Evangelina, if you can curse another sorceress it was there fault for not blocking it. And as this is a new curse well, it’ll be very hard for them to block,” Rosaline told her, “and are you telling me there isn’t one person in the whole school you’d like to see swell up? To see their skinny, snooty face turn round and grow seven more chins?”

 

A sweet girl at heart, Evangelina was about to deny any need for revenge...until her rude, superior and oh so skinny classmate Giselle’s face popped into her mind.

 

“...I can think of one…,” the young sorceress admitted.

 

                …..

 

Evangelina told herself that this was insane.

 

To gain hundreds of pounds in a matter of months. To take her already plump and podgy body to a level of lunatic obesity not seen outside the First Consul’s rumored bordello. To have her already unbalanced appetite turn into that of a gravid bear glutting itself before winter. To swell out and around into the wobbling, stretchmarked and sanging orb of a human that Rosaline was.

 

But the food was so damn good that none of those very good points mattered one bite’s worth.

 

Rosaline cast upon her, a waggle of fingers and the mouthing of some ancient dark elven words. It took a few tries of course, the red headed water bed of an enchantress’ fingers were thick as ripe bananas, once easy gestures barely possible. And the long, eloquent spells weren’t so easy for her deepend, raspy voice and weighed down lungs. But after the seventh attempt, Evangelina’s felt the change.

 

She’d been rendered full by Christos’ pastries earlier, any appetite killed seeing this human sow stuff herself. But now, as Rosaline’s completely insane gluttony and lust fell upon her mind, Evangelina felt truly insatiable. 

 

“You’ll want to be careful about eating too much, the spell can only make you lose about four hundred pounds…,” Rosaline said, her own stomach quiet for the first time in months, astounded by how Evangelina went to town on the enchanted buffet.

 

A stone bowl before the young sorceress held a few gallons of mashed potatoes, white creamy mountains with yellow seas of fresh melted butter between them. A snap of the young witch’s fingers made the starch and fat whirl into her mouth, its belly bursting size unfelt. Three roasted chickens were rendered skeletons, Evangelina only stopped from breaking their bones for marrow by easier prey. A steak here, a roast over there, a platter of fried rice and egg, a pyramid of biscuits, an entire wedding cake, a gallon of wine and a quart of whiskey.

 

Consumption on a scale that would have killed multiple human beings, but with the curse in full upon her Evangelina was merely starting to get less hungry. Her already thick waist swelled, the seams of her gown starting to stretch and groan. She felt her rings get a bit tighter, but didn’t care, digging into the towers of meat, fat and starch and sugar before her. The only thing that slowed Evangelina’s caloric rampage was her stomach hitting the table.

 

She belched, long and loud, a seam giving way to reveal white skin on her flank. Rather than embarrassment, Evangelina’s hunger faded and was replaced with a desperate need, just as burning and just as hot. Her whole body was already sweaty and trembling, but as hunger faded, just barely, lust took control. The enchantress’ pussy was sopping wet, her buried thigh muscles trembling with a need to have something large and lusty between them. She put a hand towards her crotch, finding her swollen belly blocking the way and immediately knowing the solution.

 

“Gods of Lust and Love, I need to fuck,” the insatiable sorceress gasped, green eyes glowing with desire.

 

                    …..

With strong hands, Christos wiped down the counter of his bakery and contemplated.

 

There’d been good sales, good traffic and good word about his goods. Although raised to be a noble and a soldier, he’d abhorred violence to stay too long on a knight’s path. His rich family could never understand the humble joy that came from making someone smile with just some flour, sugar and fruit.

 

Take Evangelina for instance. The smile on her plump lips whenever she ate a sweet made the young noble turned baker’s soul sing. Few folk liked sorceresses, their perfect looks alienating jealous women and their immense magical power intimidating weak men. But the baker believed someone’s truest face was shown when they ate and Evangelina was a complete innocent, an angel come to Earth.

 

That her narrow waist had grown thick and bulging, that her slender thighs now rasped and that her girlish hips had spread to fill the doorway of course, well...that was a bit less innocent. Christos was a rarity in liking his girl’s thick, it was simply not done, but Evangelina’s growing, squishy curves were heaven in his eyes. She seemed a bit...bothered by the gaining but surely she’d just stop eating if it was a problem? Yes she had gained quite a bit of weight but it couldn’t be that big of an issue?

 

“If only I had a bit of courage to say I loved her…,” the handsome baker sighed.

 

As if thinking of her summoned, Evangelina appeared in a burst of teleportation energy. Her hair was wild, come out of its braids to whip in the magical wind. Stains from a dozen substances covered her cheeks and chest, make up running and silk shredded. The sorceress’ body remained as curvaceous, soft and pampered as it had been that morning...save for her stomach.

 

Gravid as a woman at nine months with triplets, it bulged outwards. The largest gut Christos had ever seen, its gurgling churn audible from fifteen paces.

 

“Evangelina, are you alright?” the knight gasped, seeing the wildness in her eyes.

 

“Alright? Alright?” the brunette grinned ferally, reaching behind her and shutting the door with a powerful hex, “Do I look alright? Or do I look like I’ve gained more than a hundred pounds since becoming your tenant?”

 

Flustered, the baker tried to speak, “You, you look stunning, curvaceous, a veritable goddess…”

 

“A goddess? I must be an earth goddess then considering how round I am. I’ve grown so fat I’ve had to take desperate measures to stay in school, turned swollen and engorged, a clumsy glutton unable to control herself. And its all your fault,” Evangelina accused, eyes glowing such a bright green they cast a shadow, “you pampered me and puffed me up into this, don’t deny it. I see your lust now, to squeeze the grain bags of my ass, to lick the couch of my gut, to suckle the udders I’ve grown...well you fucking coward, now is your chance!”

 

Her stomach was hard as a rock, her charge at the baker nearly knocked the wind out of her. But he caught her none the less, her thick thighs wrapping around him, trembling to hold her weight. She was quite heavy already, but Christos remembered his wrestling moves and set his legs. Although the heaving, head sized breasts slamming into his face was something he wasn’t trained for.

 

“Fuck me you bastard,” Evangelina seethed, her weak muscles squeezing him, “carry my fat bulk into the kitchen while you can, fill me up with seed like I’m one of the fucking cream pies you’ve fed me with!”

 

Unable to speak due to his mouth being full of tit, Christos got her into the kitchen with a struggle. A layer of flour laid out for kneading bread went up with a puff, more of her dress ripping. He helped, tearing at the fabric with his teeth to get to the soft flesh beneath. The baker’s white teeth left deep red bite marks as he gnawed down her neck, bruised hickies that would be visible for a week, each bite making the sorceress scream in pleasure and pain.

 

By the time he got to her tits, the nipples stuck up like daggers and Christos member was ready to split his pants. He spent a moment unbuckling his own belt, busying his mouth slobbering and suckling her swollen bosom, making the obese young mage buck and writhe. 

 

“Fuck me you bastard, come on, we’ve only got all night!” Evangelina screamed.

 

Christos took his time, throwing off his own clothes to reveal his hard muscles and old scars. That delighted her, she was moaning and sighing on her own, hands on her tits by the time he got to her sex. The mage’s clit was throbbing, small sparks of magic shooting off her emerald and silver labia piercing. Christos ignored any possible danger, diving in like a cavalry horse charging a breaking pike line.

 

She tasted like salt and sugar and wine, each thrust of his tongue making her rolls oscillate. Christos stayed there for several minutes, worshipping at her altar as the first true orgasms shot through the obese mage. Evangelina’s eyes crossed so hard she feared they’d never straighten, she screamed and gasped until she couldn’t breath, her pillowy thighs squeezed as tight as her weak muscles allowed, cramps shot across her buried, abused abs as she climaxed…

 

For the first time.

 

“In me, in me, I’m so wet…,” the frantic mage screamed, grabbing Christos’ hair and hauling him upwards.

 

His hard stomach muscles smacked into a thick layer of pampered belly fat, squeezing it against the tight packed food crammed into Evangelina’s belly. Going between her thighs was passing into a pillowy heaven, the sopping wet slit between hot as hell. She moaned and he gasped, waves of dough rippling across her corpulent frame as the sounds of a very different type of kneading echoed off the bakery’s kitchen. Aroused as he was, Christos came after only a few moments, a gush of hot cream filling Evangelina up.

 

Robbed of strength, the knight turned baker collapsed onto the engorged Sorceress, their heavy breathing mixing together into a descending symphony.  It was several minutes before Christos could stand and several more before Evangelina could speak beyond demanding a heavy pitcher of ice cold cream. He had to hold the crock to her lips, the woman pinned by her swollen gut and exhausted muscles.

 

“Evangelina, what exactly has gotten into you?” the knight gasped, member slowly hardening again as she sucked down the cream.

 

“A recent change in perspective,” the young sorceress smiled, “a day ago I was convinced I’d grown too fat to ever be a sorceress. Something for which I put more than a bit of blame on you by the way.”

 

Christos’ cheeks flushed, “I’d noticed you’d put on a few inches in the right places, but you looked heavenly…”

 

“Perhaps an angel of marshmallows. But that was yesterday, now I’m quite certain that I need to get as fat as possible,” the beautiful woman grinned, dimples that hadn’t been there yesterday popping into view, “and as punishment, you’re going to feed me all summer long…”

 

                    …..

 

At the start of fall term, one Giselle d’Avenda strolled primly into the University’s lecture hall, already filling up with young sorceresses.

 

Giselle looked across the incoming students, judging them for failing beneath her own beauty. A short green bustle skirt showed off legs made svelte and tan by long summer swims. Her blouse was cut a size smaller than needed to show off how svelte and firm plenty of horizontal work had made her torso, unlike some girls who’d used the excuse of no classes to add a beer belly. 

 

“The way some girls just let themselves go,” Giselle giggled, mentally marking a few unfortunately stouter sorceress’ to torment that term, “oh its a shame that fatty Evangelina surely got cut, ah to have seen the look on her face…”

 

The bullying young enchantress smiled, adjusting the tight fit of her bodice. She’d downed a breast enhancement potion that morning, puffing her up to a reliable DD cup for at least the next twelve hours, but it didn’t hurt to check she was still at maximum size. 

 

“I bet she begged and blubbered not to go back to an ugly girl, not that she was that pretty at the end given how fat she was,” the slender red head smiled after confirming she still had freckled double handfuls of cleavage.

 

A loud crack of thunder sounded, temporarily stunning Giselle. She fell off her seat, hard butt bruising on the ground and snapped up convinced she was under attack. Blinking away her shock, she jumped upwards...smack into a living wall of blubber. Knocked down again, Giselle looked up...and mostly out.

 

“Wha-what the hell?” the svelte ginger gasped, “who let an ogre into the classroom?”

 

The woman in front of her turned...and turned and turned. She wore a green dress, a simple garment but one with as much silk as a King’s pavilion. Her ass was as wide as Giselle was tall and almost as long, the buns swollen up to a couch filling girth. The steps she took were tiny, as if her legs could barely bend, which Giselle doubted for her thighs were so fat they folded over her knees and her cankles so thick that only a pair of high heels stopped them from hitting the floor.

 

“Ah, Giselle. I *huff* didn’t see *puff* you there,” a deep voice gasped.

 

The teleporting interloper paused, taking a breath as she continued turning. It gave Giselle time to see a profile shot, that this woman was thick from front to back as she was tall. A belly big as a bathtub drooped  down almost to her ankles, pressing against the taut fabric of her gown. Breasts big as Giselle’s whole torso were pressed up by an armored bodice, its leather and steel groaning with every breath as the gallons of mammary meat rippled inside.

 

“How could you see me, you beast, you blob you...Evangelina?” the bullying Ginger gasped in recognition, “You...WHY!? HOW!!!?”

Evangelina’s face wasn’t recognizable as the same woman. Every feature had been lost, high cheek bones and dainty chin swallowed up by a spreading sea of lard, even her nose broadening under the deluge. Her cheeks were so puffy her eyes were emerald slits, Evangelina having to tilt her head down to see her prone rival. To a mage’s eye, she blazed with enchantments, all made to keep her as healthy as possible despite her ludicrous size or strength boosts to keep her mobile despite being ten times her old size.

 

The spherical mage’s view was blocked off by the vast sprawl of her flobby jowls and her cannon ball sized breasts, well before her sagging belly covered anything else. But she recognized Giselle’s shrill voice and smile, deep dimples forming alongside her plump lips.

 

“Extra credit,” the dark haired woman huffed, brushing one of her long locks off of her shoulder with a hand almost too fat to bend.

 

“Extra credit as what, a garbage disposal!?” Giselle gasped, hand to her chest in fear, “You’re the size of a house! How much do you weigh?”

 

“Don’t know,” Evangelina wheezed, leaning towards the skinny red head, “scale topped out at 750…”

 

Giselle gulped at the answer, terrified and somewhat aroused to be around this living ball of fat.

 

Evangelina spread out in every direction but up, looming around Giselle as a cliff. The impact of her change set off a strange lust between the ginger’s thighs, the sheer mechanics of attempting to make love to this heifer exciting her. She’d restrained herself all summer for fear of getting chubby while serving as girlfriend to a whole extended family of sexy nobles, while Evangelina appeared to have eaten several bakeries! Such unrestrained pleasure, the idea of being a creature of pure appetite, made Giselle’s firm muscles tremble. A chemical mix of fear and lust erupted into the sorceress’ blood, interacting badly with the alchemical breast potion she’d taken. Breath by breath, Giselle began a slow deflation, bodice loosening as she steadily declined back to a B cup.

 

“Something *uff* like that,” Evangelina panted, “can you *puff* push over another *huff* chair…I need multiple…”

 

Stunned into obedience, Giselle pushed over three other stools. Evangelina’s immense ass was going to overflow them, but every other seat was taken. The stunned redhead was trembling in shock to see so much fat before her, barely able to think of another barb. Evangelina’s vast ass collapsed onto the stools, which groaned and barely held, her gut sprawling onto the table. Giselle went to step away, only for Evangelina’s thick, sweaty fingers to grab her delicate wrist.

 

With surprising strength, thanks to her enchantments, Evangelina pulled the stunned ginger towards her. Giselle’s current C cup pressed into Evangelina’s immeasurable bosom, the gelatinous lard of the brunette threatening to swallow the slender redhead whole. Evangelina felt the ginger’s pounding heart beat and saw the shock in her eyes...and felt her own curse pass into her rival’s slimmer body.

 

“Giselle, did you *puff* have a good summer? You look *huff* like you ate well, you’re *wheeze* looking plump,” the immense Evangelina smiled.

 

She released the ginger, who stumbled back. Her loose top was draped over her small bust, eyes huge. Evangelina smiled, turning to focus on class.

 

A summer of constant overeating mixed with ten orgasms a day had been heaven on Earth for Evangelina. Her confidence had surged, her self respect sky rocketed and the only thing keeping her from getting married to Christos was her fingers being too thick to fit a ring. But that was going to change soon.

 

It wasn’t that Evangelina needed to be skinny. She had her pass from Lady Rosaline and a paramour who was quite happy with her at any size. However, being able to speak more than six words at a time before needing to gasp, fitting through any sized doors, being able to have sex or being able to walk more than a hundred steps would be nice. Not that she was going to be tiny again, Rosaline’s new weight loss curse only brought the caster to just below obesity as the still extra thick senior mage lamented. But being extra curvy, round and soft was lovely, being so big even magic could barely make her mobile was a bit of an issue. She couldn’t wait to be slim enough to have sex again.

 

And glancing over at Giselle’s dress, loosened at the top and starting to tighten against a rounding stomach, Evangelina knew she wouldn’t have to wait long...

[SilverPathfinder]

Evangelina, from plump to absurdly obese. A pastry filled story, and one of my favourite character design so far :3

Meet the softest sorceress :

[Batman76]

Alright, a new story. Here's the first half of a haughty wood elf becoming addicted to human food...

The Price of Excess…

 

Overthrowing the old, corrupt monarchy had not been the end of Weit-Gainberg’s problems.

 

An end to the cruel King’s food taxes had allowed prosperity to flow, but with that prosperity came a rising demand for food. Not just bread and butter either, but luxurious meals of all kinds: cakes and pies, icing and fruit, sugar and cream, every possible sweet and meat that the newly enriched, once skeletal masses could get their hands upon. While once only the upper classes had had to worry about the post-debutante spread, soon even girl’s of the lower classes were finding their figures going to seed upon reaching adulthood. 

 

And the Consulship, needing more and more food for its population, had turned an eye towards the seemingly infinite forests bordering the city, to the anger of the woodlands’ true masters...

 

…..

 

In one of Weit-Gainberg’s noble spires, a massive party was underway to celebrate the departure of a city regiment into the woodlands, there to secure the city’s culinary future.

 

Young soldiers danced with debutantes, slender and svelte girls who were eager to throw off any restriction be it dietary or sexual. While many a maiden head was lost and many a dessert guzzled down without a care for impending weight gain, one young woman paid far more attention to the grumblings of the obese senior officers, barely mobile middle age women in the inner circle of the First Consul, who were talking of the war itself.

 

“Elves are little more than stone age savages, have never even seen metal,” one stout bellied woman claimed, her guffaw setting her chins to wobbling and the seams of her colonel’s uniform groaning.

 

“An easy fight I say, send in the *munch* light cavalry to charge in and it’ll be over by winter,” an obese blob of a brunette said through a tart, “that’s what we did when I was a girl! This current generation is so soft!”

 

“Perhaps, but the elves have powerful magic and the sorceress’ guild refuses to muster against them. They’ve got some problem or something that’s making them all refuse to leave their towers. It’s what we get for depending on them instead of raw strength!” another ex-soldier stated, flexing a long vanished bicep and only succeeding in making her bingo-wing flap, “But we’ll crush them all soon, without their little faerie tricks! We’re marching ten thousand men down the north road at dawn, once we resupply at Fort Tico…”

 

Walking through the party, Faunalyn could barely suppress a giggle. She put a tan hand to her plump lips, making herself cough as she over heard the pompous boasts of the obese military hiearchy of the human kingdom. On the face of it, the claims of these middle age officers, long trapped behind desks by rank and their own wobbling fat, were ridiculous. But this human town was ridiculous in its clinging to cold stone and disgusting luxury foods, none of the human women would see a thing wrong in these claims so she had to stay quiet and keep her cover.

 

“If there were not so many of them, then we could use them as clowns,” the fae druid reminded herself, following the flow of the party and keeping out an ear.

 

A powerful magical disguise covered Faunalyn’s long pointed ears and the pale dapples on her skin, making her seem a well dressed and fit noble girl. And what a girl! She’d stolen a green dress, flashing with sequins that clung tight her frame. Two centuries of nomadic life in the woods, surviving off only hunting and gathering, had made the Elf’s muscles hard and burned off any excess fat save her breasts. It wasn’t that Faunalyn was masculine, she was quite busty and had very broad hips like all of her race, but was chiseled from her neck to her calves, every curve sinewy and tough. The perfection of her near eternal elven youth made sure her tan skin was creamy soft and her blonde hair gleaming like sunlight itself. 

 

Crossing the dance floor, Faunalyn spun and sashayed with several young men and women from the city regiments. She pressed her taut, muscular body to theirs, guiding hands down to her broad, muscular flanks and whispering sweet nothings in their ears. Because of her magical powers, given by nature itself, the sweet nothings were powerful charms, letting her see through their eyes and speak through their mouths at will. Every man and woman she touched became an unknowing spy, turning the city’s strength against itself.

 

For Faunalyn was not here at this party to enjoy herself, not with the fate of the forests outside Weit-Gainberg at stake. Her long lived people had existed in harmony with nature for eons and could see the danger of the human’s growing exploitation. Faunalyn’s druidic spells would give the small elven warbands a powerful advantage in the war with these humans, who although lumbering, slow and clumsy were numerous.

 

Smiling to herself, Faunalyn stepped away from the dance floor, casting an exacting eye at the Weit-Gainberg elite. Ever since the overthrow of the old monarchy, the people of Weit-gainberg had been enjoying prosperity a bit too much. Girls who should have been in the prime of their lives were looking plump and portly, bellies pushing through fraying corsets and soft chins hanging from their faces, huffing and puffing when they should have moved easily. Faunalyn giggled at the sight of them, both for the city’s famed beauties were going to seed and because her people might enjoy an easy victory against such a decadent foe. Putting aside her amusement, the elf began walking towards the exit...and walked right into her doom.

 

“Ah, try a slice or five!” a jovial, obese chef smiled, her sausage fingers handing Faunalyn a plate piled high with chocolate and whipped cream.

 

“What is this?” the druid asked, amber eyes starring suspiciously at the bizarre concoction.

 

“Why its a triple chocolate pie! Ha, I forget that some of you rich girls are kept so isolated from good food,” the spherical chief laughed, “Dig in, I’m sure you’ll love it!”

 

Faunalyn considered merely charming this bafflingly, disgustingly obese human woman to escape, but she’d spent most of her spells already. Besides, it wasn’t like a little bite would hurt her, it looked disgusting but she needed to have just one nibble to fit in.

 

“Perhaps, it’s probably a bit...rich,” the elf trailed off, eyes widening and jaw hanging open after her first bite.

 

Such a delicious, fantastical, stupendous sweetness, mixed with creamy goodness and such rich, succulent chocolate sauce. It was perfect, glorious, amazing and wonderful. So purely and spectacularly delicious that tears began to dribble from her eyes as she devoured the rest of the slice. 

 

“Can...can I have a bit more…,” Faunalyn asked dreamily, the tip of her tongue licking off the pie remnants from her lips.

 

“Of course! There’s plenty and for all!” the chef cheered, voice trailing off as Faunalyn grabbed the entire pie, “um, you can have that one…”

 

The disguised elf gorged herself, the chocolate and cream vanishing in just a few minutes. Licking her lips, the elf gave a small burp and a smile. Her stomach, flat a moment ago, now bulged tight against her dress, her belly reacting poorly to the cream after centuries without any dairy product.

 

“You have more,” the druid gasped, high breasts rising and falling at the lip of her dress.

 

“Um, well yes but we only assumed there’d be one pie per guest…,” the fat chef said, Faunalyn grabbing the pie from his hands and gorging on it too.

 

…..

 

The morning sky was filled with cawing ravens, circling lower and lower over a slaughtered column of Weit-Gainberg soldiers. 

 

Attacked from the trees and shot from a distance, they’d never had a chance to defend themselves from the elven ambush. A far smaller number of elves circled the bodies, recovering arrows. They were watched by their commander, the War-Queen of the Woodland Kindreds.

 

“You’ve done well here, Faunalyn. If we hadn’t known the human’s plans, we’d have taken casualties we couldn’t afford,” Queen Alastrie said sagely, her cold blue eyes looking out over the slaughter from the back of her mighty war stag.

 

Alastrie was a paragon for her people. Tall and tan, muscular and broad of hip, her beauty savage and pure as a flint knife. Despite being nearly a millenium old only the faintest lines of age were about her eyes and mouth and her belly had hard muscles despite having many offspring. She wore the traditional war armor of her people, a close fitting suit of feathers and leaves that blended into the woodland.

 

“I, urp, am happy to serve, great queen,” Faunalyn groaned, the druid looking positively green and barely understanding of where she was, “the *erggg* forest is my *urp* only concern…”

 

A day after her impromptu gorge session, the druid was clearly worse for wear. Her face was pale and her skin was clammy, sweat pouring off of her despite the morning cool. Her belly bulged outwards from uncomfortable bloat, pressing into the pomel of her war elk’s saddle and pushing her skirt down. 

 

“As it should be,” the Queen said, “but are you sure you should be in the field at all in your condition? Had I known you were so heavy with child, I would not have sent  you into that horrible human city…”

 

To a human, Faunalyn’s condition would clearly be assigned to eating far, far, far too much. But her people were thrifty aesthetics, they only at as much as they needed. The druid on the other hand, had gorged the whole night through, barely escaping back to the woodlands in time to warn the elves of the human attack. Strange gurgles and groans came from her gut, belly revolting at the flood of calories. The miserable elf was promising herself to never eat a single bite ever again at any point, but being mistaken for pregnant snapped the elf from her haze.

 

“I, um, well I’m merely having a poor reaction to *urp* the infiltration. Perhaps some sickness of the human food,” the green druid groaned.

 

“A sickness? We can’t have something like that spread, our numbers are few enough. You must isolate yourself as soon as you examine any magical items from this caravan,” the Queen demanded.

 

Faunalyn could only nod as a handful of elven snipers appeared with bundled human artifacts taken from the wagons. Few were of any use, some minor magical swords or pieces of armor, none in the style that an elf would prefer. But a single artifact gave the druid pause.

 

It was a small box of marble, with golden runes inscribed into its sides and top. A creature of magic, Faunalyn read them and had to gasp, covering her mouth. For this box could summon any human food from Weit-Gainberg that it’s holder desired…

 

“I, um, I will need to study this object,” the druid said so suddenly she surprised even herself, “i will send any word from my unknowing spies onto you via raven…”

 

A moment ago, Faunalyn had been absolutely certain that she would never eat another bite of human food but now...she couldn’t think of anything else.

 

….

 

A plump breasted dove fluttered down through the high boughs of the forest, coming to rest before a great black berry bush. One puff of magic later and the dove was replaced with a tawny skinned elf, one covered in sweat and gasping to breath.

 

“Gods of the forest, when *puff* did this flight get so *grunt* long?” Faunalyn gasped to herself as she wiped sweat from her brow.

 

For a month, every elf but Faunalyn had fought viciously against the human invasion. Thanks to reports of the druid’s unknowing human spies carried to the commanders via birds, they’d won many battles and taken few casualties but the effort was great and the elf had seen no one since her exile. Without the warnings of others, the druid was changing faster than she could perceive.

 

Endlessly munching on sweet, fatty human fare, the lithe druid had rapidly grown fat. Her people might live nearly forever, but in exchange their metabolisms were incredibly slow. Faunalyn was gaining several pounds per day, Weit-Gainberg’s sweets and savories undoing years of discipline and work every day.

 

“And these berries, they’re *munch* so dull now,” the druid rasped, shoveling berries by the handful into her mouth, “they used to be so sweet…”

 

Already the blonde druid was growing sugar intolerant, needing sweeter and sweeter food to get the same high. Combined with a rapidly rising stomach capacity and Faunalyn was already doomed. It was a ritual of her people to eat berries every morning during summer and the druid wouldn’t think of breaking it...although it was getting harder and harder to get to fresh berry patches, given she’d stripped the ones near her home clean.

 

The once nimble, lithe Elf would have been fatter than fashionable in Weit-Gainberg, having doubled in size. 

 

Sharp, fae facial features had rounded out, cheeks puffy and mouth hanging open to crease her chins. All of the muscle in her arms was gone, limbs getting lazy and flabby after four weeks of not drawing a bow or throwing a javelin, doing nothing but shovel pie into her mouth. Her breasts were head sized and heaving, stretching her top taut and already records sized among her species.

 

They were matched by an immensely round belly, her wasp waist obliterated and turned into a fat ball of a belly. Stretchmarks marred it and cellulite was already reaching around her love handles, a first for her species. Lazy, matronly hips were so big they’d begun to slump and the ass behind them was as big as a boar’s.  

 

After a long, long breakfast, the blonde elf plopped to her ass, jiggles shooting up her body. Black berry juice covered her body and her stomach groaned and grumbled, the entire briar patch picked clean. Too exhausted to fly, Faunalyn turned into the first animal she could think of...a bear that appeared rolly polly with pre-hibernation fat.

 

In her new form, the transformed elf waddled off to find somewhere to lay down and digest...

…..

 

In her dreams, Faunalyn lay in ecstasy.

 

Her slender, muscular body was at the center of uncounted lovers, male and female, elf and human. Tender mouths bit and suckled upon her hard abomdinals and pert breasts, hands squeezed the hard roundness of her buns and caressed the velvety lips of her sex.  She writhed and moaned, groaning in pleasure as the first of several cocks thrust deep inside her, ramming back and forth, powerful and inevitable as the tides themselves…

 

Until a sharp, stabbing pain lanced into the abundance of the Druid’s love handle.

 

“Ummm-mmmmshhhh, stoph,” Faunalyn groaned, throat feeling like sand paper to get out the mumbled words, her fantasy dream fading away to the much different reality, one where her head banged throbbed with a hang over and all of her joints were sore, “Ugh, let me sleep, I command you by the powers of Gaia herself!”

 

Yet despite the druid’s demand, the sharp tapping remained.

 

With a grunt, Faunalyn tried to sit up. But groggy as she was, failed to account for just how much elf she was pushing against. She felt her gut crease into rolls and her shoulders rise, breasts spilling sideways across her chest and then met, as if her stomach was a spring being tightened, her abdominals gave out. She fell back into the stolen pillows of her bed with a thump and a groan.

 

“I’m up, I’m up, just stop,” the druid slurred, voice far deeper than it had been.

 

Wiping sleep from her bleary, piggish eyes with sausage fingers, the hung over druid saw a large raven prancing on the vast dome of her golden gut. She clumsily swung a thick, lardy arm at it, the fat folds shaking and failed to reach it, her sagging belly now out of reach. The raven eyed her, poked her one more time and spoke.

 

“War Queen sends word-word!” the raven cawed, “Human-men army marches-advances on the world tree! Need your help for sacred ritual-rite! Queen demands-asks, is sacred rite-ritual ready yet?”

 

“Ugh, I’ll be there, I’ve got it ready I was just...celebrating my research being successful,” Faunalyn grunted, casting an eye around her room.

 

There wasn’t a single crumb or uneaten piece of food, for the efficient, devouring machine the once slender druid had become wouldn’t allow a single speck to be wasted. But there were plenty of empty wine bottles littering the floor due to Faunalyn’s budding binge drinking issue. Her headache was testament enough to where all the booze had gone, that and the strange sloshing noise her stomach made.

 

“Hurry-rush fat-lardy!” the Raven demanded.

 

Faunalyn glared with one blood shot eye, wishing she had the energy for a curse. But the elf needed everything she had to roll her bloated form off of her looted bed and onto the ground. She had to push with her weak, swollen arms and roll her ample hips while kicking her thick legs to rise to a seated position, counting on the sag of her gut over the bed to pull her up. Just that effort made her breath hard, a humiliating exercise. But Faunalyn was four times the elf maid she’d been when this had started and her hardened forester’s muscles had withered away, buried and smothered by the accumulating layers of fat.

 

“Just *ooff* give me a moment,” Faunalyn groaned, her keg of a gut resting between her tree trunk thighs, its sagging bulk pushing them apart, “my studies have tired me greatly…”

 

She rocked forwards, letting her falling gut pull her off the bed. A wince crossed the elf’s face as her knees took the full force of her weight. She’d been built with small bones for a lithe frame and wasn’t easily able to bear over four hundred pounds of pure blubber. Her lower back throbbed at the sway of her flopping breasts, her sausage fingers rubbing the thick layer of back fat in a vain attempt to ease the discomfort.

 

“Okay, huff, I’m up. Just...let me get a snack,” she grumbled, waddling forwards.

 

Where once she could have ran across autumn leaves without making a sound, now just walking across her bed chamber made a symphony of noise. The cellulite studded surfaces of Faunalyn’s thighs, bigger around than the waists of two elf maidens in fighting form, clapped together louder than a war drum. Her sagging gut bounced off of her thighs with the thud of a battering ram hitting a castle gate, while her drooping breasts smacked and wobbled. The druid began panting after three paces, breathing in and out through her mouth.

 

“Hurry-rush!” the crow reminded, avian eye blinking at the vast sea of purple stretchmarks and cellulite covering Faunalyn’s once flawless ass, acres of lard big as the rear end of a human destrier.

 

“Gotta eat first, I can barely ufff, think…, I’m so hungry,” the hung over Faunalyn mumbled, opening her enchanted bread box and pulling out a steaming hot loaf stolen from some kitchen in Weit-Gainberg.

 

She devoured the baguette with fast, efficient bites. Its two foot length disappeared in moments without leaving a crumb behind, the only evidence it had ever existed was Faunalyn giving a burp of satisfaction.

 

“Hurry-rush!” the crow reminded, voice frantic.

 

“That was just a starter, hold on. I need something else...and something to drink…,” Faunalyn grumbled, plump hands fumbling in the magical box to pull out a tray of cinnamon rolls and a fresh bottle of champagne. 

 

She gorged on the sticky sweets as if she hadn’t just eaten a full meal of bread, their icy dripping down onto her heavy breasts. So use was she to human sugar that the elf barely noticed their sweetness, the food a tiny salve to her now omnipresent hunger. By the time she was done she was breathing heavily, her out of shape leg muscles groaning at having to stand up so long and her beefy arms throbbing from the rapid motion. She used the cool down time to lick icing and crumbs off of her cleavage, then popped the wine cork with a small spell before chugging the entire bottle down. Dropping it with a thud, she wobbled on her knees, the tipsy elf having to lean on the table.

 

“Give me a bit to rest, half an hour or so…,” she groaned.

 

With an exasperated sigh, the magical crow swept across the hollow tree trunk to land on the shelf of Faunalyn’s immense ass. It pecked her butt savagely, not enough to draw blood but enough to make the elf yelp!

 

“OWWW! Stop that, stop this instance!” the druid demanded, waving her arms uselessly at the crow she had no hope of reaching.

 

“HURRY THEN FAT-LARD!” the crow demanded.

 

‘Gods, you act like I’m dragging,” Faunalyn muttered, waddling towards her door.

 

A snap of her fingers made clothes materialize around the elf. It saved her a lot of labor, but the summoned clothing barely fit. Her green skirt was nearly hidden by the droop of her belly and the sag of her love handles, while her emerald bra was on its last legs. The ripping, straining fabric showed more breast both above and below its frayed band than Faunalyn used to have period, her grain sack cleavage straining against the supporting cloth. Her shoes barely even fit, for her feet had widened and swelled under the pressure of her lardy body.

 

It wasn’t that Faunalyn was unaware of the drastic changes she’d undergone, but in her drunken, gluttonous haze, the once disciplined druid was in deep denial of just how bad it was. She kept telling herself it was just a little bit of bloat, that would go down in moments, but she was about to discover just how badly she’d let herself go upon taking the simple task of going through her own front door.

 

The bole of the giant redwood was big enough to fit a horse easily, not that one could ever climb up so high. Faunalyn had never given a thought to outgrowing it, how could she?, but the obese elf hadn’t even tried leaving her abode for months. In that time, her always womanly hips had spread and spread, fat piling up and spreading wider and wider, until her hips were at last wider than she was tall...and wider than her door.

 

“Ugh, what...what’s happening?” Faunalyn grunted as her progress slowed, the tough bark biting into her sensitive flanks, “Why, no, I can’t be stuck!”

 

The hung over, tipsy elf twisted side to side, deep rolls forming to see her body was wedged deep inside the hole. Snarling, she grabbed the sides and pulled, doing nothing but wedging herself tighter and tighter.

 

“I’m...having some problems,’ the elf admitted to the crow still riding her rump, “some help might be in order.”

 

“Too fat-wide!” the crow agreed, poking her again with his beak.

 

“That’s not what I need! Go to my enchanted box, get me some butter, alright?” the elf demanded, “I can, urp, I can lube myself up with it…”

 

“You’d just eat-devour it!” the bird demanded, poking her hard, “change shape! Change shape!”

 

“Ugh, that’s so...tiring,” Faunalyn moaned, “but...let me give it a shot…”

 

Changing shape into an animal form should have been easy as eating pie to Faunalyn. But the spell required nimble hand motions and a high paen to the Earth Goddess herself, which were problems. Her fingers were bloated and clumsy sausages, while all the fat on her chest and a diminished lung capacity meant the elf could no longer hit the high notes. It took her several tries, by which point she was gasping and sweating, to finally transform and when she did, it wasn’t to her satisfaction…

 

Faunalyn fell to her new paws, no longer an elf but a sleek hunting panther...or a formerly sleek panther. Now her warform was as fat as a house cat, flabby gut dragging on the ground beneath her. Groaning in discomfort, she waddled out onto the branch and transformed back into her elven figure, the fae laying prostrate on the broad tree trunk.

 

“I need, *gasp*, some rest…,” Faunalyn grunted, fat drooping off the limb and unaware her skirt had ripped away in the tumult.

 

The raven could only sigh in frustration. Hopping up, the little bird flew towards a giant eagle nest, hoping to cash in a favor because there was no way this hog of an elf was ever going to get anywhere on her own...

 

[>_< 0_0]

Damn, elven metabolisms are slow af. They say 40% of human metabolism goes to the brain, and since these elves run and fight so much, I can only assume that their brain stats aren’t so high, else Faunalyn wouldn’t have walked into this easily-forseen predicament.

I loved the Chonk animal cameos in this . They’re symbolic and hilarious in equal measure. 

[Batman76]

And after an unreasonably long time, here's the ending part of Faunalyn's very fattening story! My thanks to @SilverPathfinder for their saint like patience and glorious art!

 

Death waited about the World Tree.

 

That fell reaper and destroying angel could practically be heard in every gust of wind and rattle of armor, two massive armies preparing for a pivotal battle. 

 

Elven archers dabbed their faces in war paint, dipping their arrows in poisons so fell they could slay even ghosts. Ancient elms and yews groaned to life, ripping themselves from the ground and taking the form of treants, while house-sized dire bears and horse sized dire wolves streamed from the forest. 

 

War-Queen Alastrie, stern monarch of the eternal fae folk, slit her palm on the razor edge of her steel-oak daikatana Briarheart, the unbreakable, sentient wooden weapon awakening to blood thirsty life. Roots and tendrils spread from the wooden sword’s hilt, snaking around Alastrie’ muscled arm and wrapping about her proud breasts and taut abs, covering her in a thick layer of living, oaken muscle, the plant based power armor throbbing with vigor.

 

“You awakened me War-Queen,” the terrible weapon groaned in pleasure, “you know what this means. I can only be sheathed in royal blood…”

 

“Well I know this, but today the World Tree is threatened,” the grim Queen explained as a terrifying wooden war mask covered her angelic face, “If we fail, then all shall die and wither anyway. So let us sing songs of death and cut our way to the human army…”

 

Across from the elven war host and their wild allies, stood an army five times their size. Rank upon rank of pikemen and crossbowmen beneath flapping banners, squadrons of proud knights in impenetrable plate and batteries of hissing, alchemical war engines throbbing with barely contained power. That the infantry were best described as stout rather than strong and that even the knights had pinched armor was besides the point, so many numbers couldn’t be denied, even if the quality of the city’s soldiers had greatly decreased. The promise of a future of bounty, where none would know want had driven the human army here and they would not be denied. In the middle of that fell host, Consul Sasha the IV of Weitgainberg stood on a golem born altar, fairest beauty and greatest enchantress the mighty city had ever produced. 

 

Clad in the soft white robes of her office, the Consul sweated in exhaustion, sweat sticking her red robes of office to her muscled, voluptuous body. Teleporting the vast Weitgainberg army through the tracts of forest had taken a great toll on the sorceress, who’d had to make terrible bargains with the sinful demon goddess Kh’aila just to get her host through the aether. Either Sasha would produce a wood elf druid grown so fat she couldn’t even move for Kh’aila’s amusement or the sorceress’ own graceful beauty would turn immediately to lard as all the pounds her ancestors had packed onto their concubines would fall onto her...

 

“Soldiers of Weitgainberg!” the sorceress dictator roared, banishing thoughts of rest, “we fight or we die today! No mercy, no retreat!”

 

The human host stepped forwards, a thunder storm of clanking iron, and ten thousand elves knocked arrows, the now demonic form of Queen Alastrie stepping forth with a creak of her bonded armor.

 

The whistle of a rapidly falling object interrupted all of them, growing louder and louder.

 

Human soldiers froze, thinking it some terrible beast of the wild, while elf archers paused, thinking it some dangerous human alchemy.

 

Both sides were, in fact, very wrong.

 

A shadow fell from the sky, spherical in shape and big as a bear in size into the space between two wood elf archers. Rather than shatter or knock a hole into the ground, the massive ball bounced, hundreds of feet into the air, arcing towards the middle of the Weitgainberg ranks. Consul Sasha the IV’s blue eyes widened to see it coming straight towards her and she jumped aside, dress hooking on a bur and tearing away to reveal her lean, muscular body.

 

“What is this devilry!?” the Consul demanded as she activated a flight spell, flying away from the shattered bulk of her war throne.

The gigantic ball bounced the way it came, soaring with a bit less speed to hit the earth of no man’s land and roll to a halt at the base of the World Tree. Pale and quivering, the ball of rubber gave a strange shake and was suddenly a merely bit less spherical, turning into the terrified, exhausted and morbidly obese frame of the gluttonous wood elf druid Faunalyn. 

 

“Oh Goddess, no, never again no…, no more magic…,” the dazed druid moaned, raising chubby fingers to rub her puffy face, “no more magic…”

 

From a nearby puddle, the foul mouthed and naked Naiaid Deborah stepped, able to instantly teleport herself. For a moment the Naiaid appeared seductive and graceful, pulling her long black hair past her breasts...until she fished a waterproof packet of cigarettes out of them and lit them with a spell.

 

“Wot the fook, nearly a damned hole in one innit?” the naked, slender nymph bragged, poking Faunalyn’s beer keg belly, “wot I tell ya? One fookin flesh to rubber spell and then bribing some ents to give ya a big ol whack, and boom, fookin birdie eh!?”

 

All the nauseated Faunalyn could do was groan. Being turned into a rubber sphere via magic was traumatic enough, bouncing across the forest and being kicked by treemen was even worse! Surely, her indignities had ended though...until War Queen Alastrie stalked over, a figure of nightmare to Faunalyn!

 

“What is this chaos? On my battlefield? Who dares? And what manner of species is this, it’s like some sort of shaved pig or perhaps a were bear…,” The muscular Queen glowered, looking down on the now immense Faunalyn, “surely this is...no...this cannot be an elf…”

 

The druid, ashamed to be seen at this size by anyone, much less her Queen, attempted to roll over and dart down into the sacred temple nestled in the World Tree’s roots. However, darting anywhere was out of the pear shaped elf’s abilities. She rolled about half way onto one hip, foot deep rolls forming in her flab, and then ran out of steam, flopping back down in an earthquake of rolls and jiggles.

 

“Faunalyn! Faunalyn! Brought-brought fat druid!`` The War Queen’s raven called, loud and clear as it’s talons settled on the queen’s shoulder, “ritual-sacrifice! Salvation-victory!”

 

The Queen blinked behind her demonic war mask. Trying to reconcile her counselor Faunalyn, as graceful, temperate and fit,with this hippo  sized blob of cellulite struggling to get up. What horrible magical infection or nightmarish human curse had changed her so?

 

“Faunalyn,” Alastrie growled, words turned nightmarish by her demonic armor, “I know not how you’ve become so...puffy...but if you cannot call forth the powers of slumbering nature to aid us against the humans, then the world is surely doomed!”

 

Bending, she grabbed Faunalyn’s pillowy shoulders, marvelling at how deep her wooden gauntlets sank into the druid’s engorged flesh and how much effort the oaken power armor required to pick up the quarter ton elven blob. The lazy druid didn’t help much and gave a groan when she was sat on her feet, her weakened muscles cramping and joints popping to support her own girth. 

 

“M-my Queen, I’ll do my best but I’ve been...greatly sickened by a curse of the humans,” Faunalyn lied, “it’s caused me to swell and bloat but once the ritual is over I’ll quickly cure myself…”

 

“That matters not, get down to the shrine and begin the ritual,” the Queen snarled, “all is already prepared by your more...mobile druids. You alone can conduct the rite! Go! And Naiad...go with her, she might become...stuck…”

 

So accompanied, Faunalyn waddled down into the caves inside the World Tree’s roots. The druid’s sensitive eyesight let her navigate easily, but her lazy, bloated body was a different story. Each step made her swollen thighs smack and chaffe, her drooping gut pushing against them. Her pllowy buns swung side to side, beginning to bounce into the wooden walls of the great tree as the passage narrowed. Discipline had long collapsed in Faunalyn’s mind, replaced with a laziness deeply joined to cowardness and her pace slowed, fear that she’d be stuck bubbling up.

 

“Oi, get a move on ya fat ass shite!” Deborah snarled behind her, lean, fit arm delivering a mighty slap to the elf’s ballooned butt.

 

Squealing, the druid hurried on, frequent slaps from the Naiad driving her forth. After several minutes, the sweaty and wheezing Faunalyn forced herself into the small sacrificial chamber within the World Tree’s roots: a perfectly circular space with a round stone altar in the center, lit by glowing fungi on the roots above. The black stone slab bore a rusty red stain, old blood from centuries of sacrifices.

 

The druid waddled up, hands on her aching knees and pale face red as a beet, sweat pouring off of her. 

 

“O-okay, I just need...oh Goddesses...just get the sacrifice…,” Faunalyn panted, “I’ll handle it from there…”

 

There was a long pause, her companion Deborah not saying a word. Faunalyn stood up with a grunt and a pop of her overloaded knees, the extra wide elf looking at the naked Naiad. Deborah had silk smooth off blue skin, legs that went on forever with a wide gap between them, sexily round hips and a tiny waist beneath her full, pert bosom. What the naked nymph didn’t have was anything to sacrifice.

 

“...I did, give you *puff* the sacrifice? Didn’t I?” the druid huffed, “Or did...does the Queen have it? Can you run *Urp* up there and get it?”

 

In response, the Queen’s raven settled on Faunalyn’s soft shoulder, its pointy talons stabbing into her squishy arm.

 

“Sacrifice! Sacrifice! Sacrifice!” The raven cawed loudly, pecking at the druid’s blubbery torso.

 

“B-but we don’t have a sacrifice…,” Faunalyn blubbered, slowly realizing the repeated call’s purpose.

 

Deborah looked the blob of a druid up and down, shrugging her lean shoulders.

 

“Well shite, sorry Fauny, but nothing personal,” the lean fae shrugged, “‘sides, can’t get shagged if the world ends, can I?”

 

The dark haired Naiad jumped forwards, pouncing with a leopard’s speed. Faunalyn tried to nimbly dodge out of the way. Perhaps once she’d have been able too, but her reactions were slow and her body dangerously bottom heavy. Deborah’s shoulder knocked her hard in the gut, driving the wind from the obese elf’s body and knocking her flat on her jiggling ass.

 

An earthquake of wobbling jiggles shot through the pale elf’s body as she landed, the wobbling not stopping at her frame. The altar flashed with powerful magics, Faunalyn feeling her druidic powers being activated. Her tattoos lashed green, spreading across her body with emerald light. 

 

“No, no no, don’t ...Earth Goddess, I’m sorry,” she sobbed as a vast, endless presence shot through her body, old beyond measure, judging every one of her many, many, many inches, “I’m sorry I was lazy and gluttonous...but-but, I was just so hungry…the human’s food was so gooodddd….”

 

The earth shook, roaring louder than the mightiest dragon. Both the elven and human army paused their advances, trembling in fear.

 

“What are we waiting for?” Consul Sasha cried to her host, the glamorous sorceress floating above her army in a new scarlett dress that fluttered around her muscular legs, “fight! Fight for Weit-Gainberg! Fight for prosperity! Fight for my svelte, slender glory! Fight like you’ll never eat again if we fail!”

 

Rather than cheer, her army began to retreat as the earth beneath them shook. Trees shot from among them, going from shoots to fully mature redwoods in moments. The army broke and ran, running away from the swelling trees and Sasha had to dodge away, her new dress getting snagged just like her first. The sorceress was yanked upwards faster than she could react, only to be hit in the face by the end of a branch. Crimson splattered, Sasha the IV stuttering in surprise.

 

“Oh Goddesses, dark and light, what is...strawberry rhubarb pie?” Sasha sputtered realizing that the tree branches were covered in steaming fresh desserts.

 

Across from the trembling human army, the wood elf host gave a cry of triumph. Their enemy, nearly invincible a moment ago, was now running. Queen Alastrie gave a shout to start the pursuit, raising her daemonic sword Briarheart high. Her only hope of survival was to find the Weit-Gainberg Consul and ram the diabolic blade through her heart...but as she stepped forwards her wooden power armor began to tremble.

 

“What? Briarheart, the foe is ready for slaughter!?” the Queen cried, only for her wooden boot to sprout roots.

 

“The Earth goddess...she...demands...growth…,” the demon sword moaned, suddenly sprouting fat, golden berries.

 

The fruit shot down the wooden armor bonded to the War Queen’s body, the oaken armor trembling and bulging, ejecting Alastrie onto the ground. Startled, the agile Queen turned an easy somersault, landing on her nimble feet to see her cursed blade become tree heavy with strange, golden fruit. She picked one with callused fingers, realizing it was somehow warm to the touch.

 

“What...what is this?” the Queen asked, fascinated by the buttery smell, drool forming from her lips.

 

“M-muffins…,” her transformed sword moaned, its diabolical energy spent at last.

 

….

 

Head pounding and belly screaming, Faunalyn stumbled out of the World Tree’s cave on unsteady feet.

 

The gluttonous, lazy, weak willed Druid could barely remember seeing her Goddess, the contact terrifying beyond comparison. All that she remembered was begging for another chance to prove she could resist. Deborah had been gone when she came too and it had taken the druid a moment to work up the energy to stand.

 

“Ugh, why am I so hungry? I can barely walk, I must have gotten even fatter,” the blonde elf muttered, legs walking with difficulty.

 

Each step seemed to take a huge amount of distance for the druid and her belly growled with complaint. She felt delirious, her breathing coming almost too easily after months of laborious huffing and puffing. Stumbling into daylight, the dazed elf looked down to see another elf maiden staring in front of her.

 

Slender as a rail and strong as a sword. Large chested and wide hipped, but with rock hard muscles and a taut thigh gap. There was a look of surprise on her face to see the no doubt huge druid, but it didn’t change into disgust...until Faunalyn tried to speak and the other woman mirrored her motion.

 

“Don’t laugh at me because I’m fat,” Faunalyn hissed, looking down at her lean tormentor, “tell me what happened at the battle!”

 

The other elf only repeated her words back to Faunalyn as she said them, in cruel mockery. Before the druid could start an argument, the crow that had dragged her into this mess landed on her shoulder.

 

“Slender! Lean! Fit!” the crow cawed.

 

“Yes, I know I’m...wait a moment,” Faunalyn said as she reached to shoo the crow, her slim arm moving quickly.

 

Staring down in joy, the once obese druid had to realize she was suddenly fighting fit! Taut abs glistened beneath proud breasts, graceful legs flexed and a pinch behind her showed that even her amazing butt was back! She was merely looking at a reflection of herself in a pool!

 

“The Goddess heard my prayer! I’m slender again! I get another chance!” Faunalyn laughed, voice high and melodious now that fat wasn’t weighing on her chest, “I’m skinny and pretty and thin!”

 

“Ugh, yer still fookin loud ya big butt dumbshite,” Deborah groaned through a hangover, “I got fifteen fookin minutes till I can swim off and collapse somewhere so shove it…”

 

The Naiad floated on her back in the pool, wearing only a pair of sunglasses. The fae was immensely bloated at the waist, weighed down by a food belly big as a cannonball. Berry stains covered her lips and hands, suggesting that she’d been eating for hours.

 

“Oh Deborah…,” the stunned Faunalyn said, “you look so...err...where’s the Queen…”

 

“Front line last I saw *urp* but it's been a hot minute. Place was a fookin bloodbath, elves and humies surging about,” the glutted fae groaned, “now shut it and let me float...Goddess how’d I eat that much? Why’d I eat that much?”

 

Jumping easily in the air, Faunalyn ran at full tilt to find the battlefield and discovered a scene of bloody carnage. Naked bodies covered the ground, wargear scattered. Faunalyn cursed, she must have missed the fight for the bodies had been on the ground long enough to swell!

 

The druid ran forwards to find any wounded, only to step over a pair of immensely glutted sleepers. Agile again, Faunalyn did a summer salt and turned to find her Queen Astarielle...and the Human Consul, Sasha!

 

“War Q-Queen!? Are you...naked?” Faunalyn stammered.

 

Both War Queen and Consul were naked, using another of Sasha’s gowns as a sheet. Both were also stuffed to the gills, their complexion greenish from indigestion. Berry juice stained face and hands, laying facing each other, they were so stuffed their bellies touched tenderly. Moreover, Faunalyn noticed both human sorceress and elf war queen were covered in sticky kiss marks, specifically around their breasts, bellies and thighs.

 

“Ugh, yes I am,” the War Queen groaned, “but I’m no War Queen anymore. We’ve conferred with the *urp* humans and decided that *belch* peace is important. They will leave the forest and we will *ung* ensure their fields are fertile with rituals…”

 

“So these *belch* wonderful plants keep growing,” Sasha groaned, “but hostages will have to be exchanged...I think this deeply underfed druid would enjoy Weit-Gainberg’s pleasures…”

 

Above the overfed battlefield, where no one had died and yet thousands groaned as if stabbed in the guts so great was the pressure on their bellies, the War-Queen’s crow circled. If anyone had had time to notice, they’d have found that the bird wasn’t the same one that the Queen had sent out that morning. But war was so important, who had time to check a crow…

 

The bird landed on a high branch of the fruit pie laden world tree. There was a flicker of magic and the bird was suddenly the same chef who’d served Faunalyn a fateful slice of pie at the party months ago. The old man laughed as they looked down on most of the wood elf population, all of them stuffed to the brim with addictive human treats, of which there was now an infinite supply, all drawn from the powers of the Earth Goddess. Picking up a slice, he bit into it, blood red juice pouring down his chin.

 

With another flicker, the old man turned again, changing gender, age and species. Long ash blonde hair went down to ebony black ankles, a dark elf sitting on the branch. A thick, pampered belly and heaving breasts stretched out a purple spider silk gown, while a swords woman’s muscular legs and hard arms balanced on the branch.

 

“Easy as giving candy to a child, candy paid for in some other God’s power,” Kh’aila, the dark elf goddess of power, violence and decadence laughed, “the greatest singular burst of gluttonous, decadent pleasure since the downfall of the last King of Weit-Gainberg, enough to weaken the prison the Earth goddess put me in so long ago and let me walk among mortals!”

 

The divinely diabolical dark elf laughed again, body growing visibly plumper as the elves and humans below her kept eating and eating. Her belly stretched wider and fuller, spider silk dress beginning to rip apart.

 

“Hahaha, the gluttons pray to me already,” Kh’aila cackled, patting her regrowing gut, “I best be about my work quickly. I’ve got some old priestesses to find and bring back into the fold and a world to take over...best hurry!”

 

With a cackle, the goddess fell off the branch, turning into a crow and flying away.

 

Down below, Faunalyn saw the shadow and wondered why the bird hadn’t returned to the Queen. But the druid was ravenously hungry and busy devouring a tree branch full of pies, so surely it wasn’t an issue. She was just glad she was skinny again!

 

“I’ll not make the mistake of growing so fat again,” the elf druid assured herself, pulling an entire pie off the branch to eat, “by Kh’aila...wait…”

[SilverPathfinder]

And here is our gluttonous and lazy druidess in all her widened glory ^^

[Batman76]

Those before abs are things to behold.