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About flyer33

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    Stories, especially set in the Regency era (~1800s), as well as superheroine and fantasy adventures. Completed stories published in convenient e-book form on Amazon under the pen name Troy Athens. https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08611D1KN

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  1. Connie is not a woman to skimp on pie! Especially after all the fattening foods she's been enjoying, with the aim of filling out her curves. Connie rolls WILLPOWER: 74 / 20, fail! Connie has gained 34 pounds from gorging on an enchanted pumpkin pie (with lashings of cream). Her weight is now 174.5 lbs. Her FAT SCORE is now 25 (reached 25 at 174 lbs). "Oh, my!" Connie exclaimed, as she leaned back from the banqueting table in the keep's dusty but clearly still-functioning great hall (well, a candelabra was lit, and a place at the table had been well set for her to sit down for the pie; otherwise, apart from the dessert, the place was deserted). She mopped her brow and panted - that pie had been positively orgasmic! Just like her aunt Kelly used to make. No wonder she'd grown so curvy in her youth! "Oh! So full!" The countess groaned. In fact, she felt so full, she felt like she was going to have to skip dinner! And that was a very uncharacteristic thought, so she must have really overdone it! She did remember the button of her leggings popping somewhere around the second slice... Oh. And she'd barely noticed. That was unusual too. Connie was normally acutely sensitive to the presentability of her outfit. Connie looked down to check how swollen her tummy was. There was just one problem: she couldn't see past her swollen boobs! "Eeeek!" Connie squeaked. The blonde diplomat stood up in alarm, stumbing as her clothing strained from the process, and reached for her leggings. Sure enough, they were burst open. And the black leather was oh-so-tight around her thighs and curvy hips... Her very vavoom, curvy hips! "What the Heavens is up with this castle?" Connie exclaimed. Somehow, after one little (well, not that little) meal of pie, her curves had blossomed back to the fullest they'd ever been - and, in the case of her overspilling, leather-top-seam-busting boobs, much fuller than ever! Although slightly alarmed by the apparently magical pie she had just devoured - whence had it come, and why? Was her aunt Kelly haunting the place? It was her pie recipe, after all - Connie resolved to finish exploring the castle. Her suddenly-renewed curvaceousness made her a little clumsy as she headed, cautiously, further into the keep. As she went, she patted her hips, and couldn't help but grin at the way her once-again devastatingly curvy figure strained the leather outfit to bursting! --- FAT feats. Connie has reached a FAT score of at least 24 for the first time (during the game). Connie takes the BIG MILKERS physical FAT FEAT, as her tendency towards a busty build reasserts itself, using the super-fattening pie as building material! 11. BIG MILKERS: "Oh these? Oh yeah, they're getting bigger still. Why would I diet, it all goes to the girls first...they do make my back a bit sore..." This PC is blessed with a bountiful bosom by genetics, making them sexier to all and acting as a caloric disposal area...for a while. On gaining FAT POINTS between 20-24, this character's CHARISMA bonus increases by 2 instead of one with all NORMY NPCs, she takes no penalty with FAT FETISH NPCS despite being a normal weight and does not suffer ATHLETICS or CONSTITUTION loss per FAT POINT due to the fat failing to land on her limbs or core. On gaining FAT POINTS in the OVERWEIGHT category between 25-30, her CHARISMA increases by 1 among all NORMY NPCs instead of falling by 2 and increases by 4 among FAT FETISH NPCS instead of by 2, her ATHLETICS and CONSTITUTION scores however now fall by 4 points per FAT POINT instead of 3 to represent strain on her back. From 30 FAT POINTS onward, the PC's penalty/bonus on CHARISMA towards NORMIE/FAT-FETISHIST increases by 50% over baseline to represent rampant gigantomastia , while her ATHLETICS and CONSTITUTION penalties increase by 50% to represent immense back strain. After voluntarily taking a PHYSICAL FEAT, Connie must check WILLPOWER: 27 / 20 fail. Connie must roll for a MENTAL FAT FEAT. Rolls: 9: BULGING BRAVERY... OK, she'll take that! 9. BULGING BRAVERY: rightly or wrongly, the character believes their bulk is a sign of toughness and strength. Must pass a WILLPOWER check before a physical action, receives advantage to the subsequent ATHLETIC checks on a success. Now, let's check on Connie's vital statistics. If my numbers are correct, Connie's huge boobs cause her to have the following stats, at FAT 25. Due to back strain, her ATHLETICS is 46, and her CONSTITUTION is 66. Her CHARISMA becomes 89 with NORMY NPCs, and 84 with FAT FETISH NPCs. Hmm. With all the pregnancy pounds Connie is set to gain, it looks like she will have to do some back-strengthening exercises, whether she enjoys them or not!
  2. Ah, yes, that makes sense! I've made some minor edits to clear that up a bit.
  3. Awesome stuff! Connie's going to pick one of the latter 2 options - probably a visit to her aunt Kelly's castle, before the trip becomes too arduous. After all, with her new fertility diet, and perhaps a little weight gain, she's confident she'll be knocked up before her big day without four-times-weekly sex sessions (which she'd enjoy, of course, but there will be plenty more time for that on the honeymoon)! Crumbling castle it is! Right! First, does Connie's midnight snacking leave any evidence on her hips? FAST METABOLISM (87, 58) / CON 70. Extra tart no problem for Connie! Two weeks on her overindulgent fertility diet might be another matter though! Especially with her penchant for snacks! I'll write up Connie's results as a string of results: 'm' means Connie's fast metabolism handled her overconsumption, and 'G' means that she stuffed herself so much that even she gained weight! mm,mm,mm,mm,mm,mm,mm. Outrageous! At the end of week 1 of her fertility diet, Connie is barely any fatter than when she left fat camp! Just full, most of the time, but her tummy snaps back to its flat self each morning! Even by her standards she would normally be choosing looser dresses after that packing away that much food! Perhaps the excitement as she plans her upcoming wedding is burning off too many calories. Anyway, time for her first visit to Lord Syrup's residence, so he can show her the rooms, especially the master bedroom, where she is keen for another memorable night (after a gargantuan dinner). Fertility check: 93. Yay, congratulations, Connie, on demonstrating your impressive fertility by becoming pregnant so soon! Of course, it'll be a little while before her boobs start swelling up so much more than normal and she's sure she's pregnant, so she'd better stick to that delicious fertility diet by indulging herself to the maximum! Gm,mm,mm,mm,Gm,mm,mG. Heh! Connie's second week of hefty calorie intake has caused her to gain weight! With all the food she'd been packing into her tummy, even Connie's FAST METABOLISM only reduces the fattening consequences of her fertility diet to 1.5 lbs of fat gained, softening Connie's belly and filling out her hips [I think this is right]... And her notably swollen bosom! Lord Syrup will doubtless be delighted, as Connie chooses an outfit that flatters her clearly well-fed figure, for her next visit. Countess Contoura Decolletage has gained 1.5 lbs! Her weight is now 140.5 lbs. Her next FAT point (21) is at 146 lbs. Also, Connie is pregnant! Over the next 9 months she will gain 3d4 = 8 FAT points! This corresponds to Connie growing 56 lbs fatter! Which is probably more than the principality approves of, but she is safe from their Fat Audits and Fat Camp for now! Anyway, some time in that second week, Connie pours herself into some tight riding leathers, while she can still fit into them, and takes her best horse on a visit to aunt Kelly's old castle! Connie's eccentric old relation might have been the sort of person that other deColletages might have omitted to put on their list of wedding invitations, but eccentrics can be interesting company, and Connie had never been one to neglect visiting aunt K, before she passed away and left the castle to her relatives. Partly, that was because of aunt Kelly's uncommon interest in cooking: she made excellent pumpkin pies! Just one thing disturbed Connie's thoughts, as her horse approached the rise towards the old, grey castle. Perhaps she shouldn't have worn this particular pair of black leather leggings: they were an old favourite, which she'd bought in her debutante year... When she was thinner. And doing up the button had made them ferociously tight! There was every risk she'd have to unbutton them at dinner, if she had a second helping of anything! And Connie most certainly did want a second helping of everything! Heavens, after the long ride, she wouldn't say not to a third! After all, her husband-to-be adored her curves, and so she did want to make sure she filled out her wedding dress nicely! --- Connie headed up to the castle entrance. She wondered what to expect in the aged castle... It was an intriguing question, and different from the risque trains of thought she'd entertained on her ride over, when she'd been musing on whether any diplomatic assignments might be open to her once she was pregnant, or just fat... Private tutor. In a nearby Duchy, scuttlebutt suggests the newly wed young Duke and his slim young wife need to be taken in hand and given some rather straightforward instructions. For, despite both being young and fit, after a year of marriage they have not yet produced an heir! The shy couple clearly need some advice about how to spend their time in the bedroom. And Connie is the perfect woman to give that advice! CHARISMA to broach the topic without causing embarrassment, and then either INTELLIGENCE to provide theoretical instruction, or ATHLETICS to furnish the young Duke with a practical demonstration... Of course, with Connie's ample allure, the latter course of action might risk giving the Duke a pregnancy fetish... You must be *this* fat to come in. The Margrave of Fatrovia, a small but rich gold mining town squeezed up against the mountains, is reputed to host the finest banquets in the 101 Kingdoms. Annoyingly, despite being quite the foodie, that's something Connie doesn't know from first hand experience. For the only way into the upper town area is through the Gate of Fat - a kind of reverse Fat Audit! Only the plumpest female diplomats and envoys are admitted to the upper town - with the rest being hosted in a lesser hall in the lower town. Even at her fattest, Connie was never eligible. But, with her recent pregnancy weight gain, Connie might be the only woman in the principality who can convey an important letter to the Margrave in person.
  4. So, here's a question about how weight gain works, should Connie fall pregnant. Suppose Connie becomes pregnant, and gains 6 FAT POINTS over the next nine months. Afterwards, she is 42 pounds fatter than her starting weight of 139 lbs. Suppose she has gained two FAT FEATS, due to her weight gain: Big Milkers (at 24 FAT), and Natural Breeder (at 26 FAT). If Connie is then forced to go to Fat Camp, where she goes down to 22 FAT, does she retain these FAT FEATS, or does she need to fatten herself back up to regain them, so that she'd have to reach 26 FAT in order to benefit from the Natural Breeder feat again? Connie would like to know, because she might want to hold onto this feat in order to produce more heirs than her sister... I can see it going either way (and maybe it is a case-by-case thing the GM could announce as the story progresses). She might keep these feats, because her (temporary) gain revealed her natural tendencies, and now she can't budge her milk-engorged boobs and fertility hormones. Or she might lose them because - well, because she needed to add lots of weight before her boobs grew really huge.
  5. Oh wow, this is fantastic. And a dream come true for Connie! Rich lands! Unlimited dairy-based foods to gorge on, ample leisure time to spend in the bedroom! And the chance to get into her parents good books by marrying well and producing heirs! Hmm, and with the added bonus that once she is pregnant she may still be able to do some light diplomatic duties - with no risk of getting any more pregnant than she already is! As a diplomat, Connie almost certainly does carry a anti-conception charm with her. That said, it seems that a prompt marriage is on the way, so perhaps it is prudent for her to "forget" to use it. "Oh!" Exclaimed Connie, her dress just barely hanging on. "I think you got me at 'creameries', Lord Syrup, but if not then you most certainly did at 'ice cream factory!' Now, feed me the last of that orange tart, please, before we seal the deal!" As she savoured the very last bit of tart that she could possibly cram down, Connie pondered. With so little time before her husband-to-be headed east, and a pressing need for her to get pregnant beforehand, she anticipated the need for her to go on a strict... Fertility diet! Mmm! They were notoriously fattening, but it would be her familial duty to force down every rich drink of honeyed and spiced milk, and all the buttery plates of carbs and nutritious fruits she could manage! Which would be a lot, knowing Connie... Mmm! After all, even she probably wouldn't get preggers first time... * Connie rolls 28, and so is not yet pregnant! Looks like she'll get to enjoy that fertility diet after all!
  6. Cakes and Crushes (part 4) After sunset, the summer evening remained swelteringly hot over the capital city. That was good for the very skimpily-dressed rich girls who staggered along the seafront, often leaning heavily on the arms of their companions because the combination of their food-engorged bellies, protruding a dozen inches or more ahead of them, and their towering high heels made it impossible to walk unaided. Not even the short distance to their carriages. One rich girl who wasn't so stuffed that she had any problem walking, and who could probably still run a marathon in her gold sandals even though she had eaten to the point of looking six months pregnant in her red-trimmed wrap dress of plain silk, was Duchess Staceline “Stacey” Dolchetta Voluptua-Fuller Demoore. She was trying to enjoy the company of a lean, fit companion, but if either of them was supporting the other with an arm, it was Lady Staceline. Staceline drew in some breath, but didn't say anything until she and Kal had navigated around a busty baroness in a too-tight purple slip dress, and her inebriated escort. Alas, the fat baroness and her beau were clearly enjoying a nicer time. “So, Kal...” Staceline said apologetically, before clearing her throat. “I'm really sorry about making you cream your shorts, earlier. Twice. I, um... I thought you were really enjoying it! But I really should have asked your consent to continue before I did that whole routine with the cheesecake, and it's my bad that I got too engrossed and I didn't. Sorry. Oh, and I basically never apologise to boys, so I really mean it.” Kal Aresquay, the cute medical student whom Staceline had practically decided to start thinking of as her boyfriend, groaned. “It's not your fault, Stacey. It's mine! It was just so embarrassing!” Staceline sighed, and tried to think of something charming to say. She'd been really pleased with herself for making Kal cream his shorts without touching him. Twice. It had really affirmed her sex appeal and erotic skills. And it was really annoying he'd, inexplicably, found it embarrassing. And what Staceline found even more annoying was that she felt a bit guilty about not noticing that Kal hadn't been enjoying himself as much as she. “Meh. Honestly, Kal, it's really not embarrassing at all! It's pretty much the best compliment a boy can give a girl, in fact. And, pretty much no-one noticed us! Plus, if anyone in that restaurant had noticed us, they'd have just been really impressed that you were into me, and I was, um...” Kal seemed unhappy. Staceline gave him a supportive squeeze. “... Really into you. There. I've said it. And that is why I may have come on a little bit strongly, over dinner. But, Kal. I want to make it up to you.” Kal sighed, dejectedly. Staceline decided to cheer him up by steering him towards the secure glass display frontage of an upmarket jewellery store that faced onto the waterfront. Its glittering lights drew in a fair number of late-night browsers from the rich entertainment district. Staceline found a slot next to the display of the biggest diamonds. A big diamond, she decided, would be a great way to raise a boy's spirits – it always worked on Alicia, anyway. “Okay, Kal. I'm fucking rich. Tell me what you want, and I'll buy it for you. Then you can forgive me and...” Kal leaned quietly on Stacey's shoulder. He didn't seem very cheered up. “C'mon. I'll buy you the fucking store. Just say something.” “Sorry Stacey.” Kal managed. He even grinned a bit. “But you can't buy diamonds for a boy. That's the wrong way around.” “I totally can.” Staceline countered. “In fact, my banks get really annoyed when I don't buy enough diamonds, because it means they end up with too much liquid currency piling up in my accounts. Which makes the average return look bad. I had to buy the Rostau Diamond last year just to shut them up...” This, at least, caused Staceline's boyfriend to laugh. “I'm not saying you can have it, Kal. My offer is one upper-mid market jewellery store. Not last year's most expensive gem. What do you say? One diamond shop and you forget about me being bad tonight? Seems fair.” Staceline pleaded. “Okay, one diamond shop and I'll throw in a riding horse and some silk clothes. Which you need anyway, by the way.” Kal didn't reply. He looked like he was trying to think of something to say. And Staceline suspected it was a no. Damn. “Okay! You drive a hard bargain, Sir. Plus five hundred sovereigns... Per year. Come on. Please!” At last, Staceline extracted her reply from Kal. “Stacey, you don't have to give me stuff. Except dinner... You can pay for dinner, because, Okay, I can't afford to feed you. And. I wouldn't turn down a silk shirt. But you don't have to give me anything else. You are the hottest – and hungriest – girl I've every met. And I like you!” Like? Staceline felt her body flood with relief, and happiness. The cynical half of her mind would be furious – she was drooling over a boy whose position in life was decidedly inferior to her own. “Like me?” Staceline squeezed her boyfriend. On cue, her tummy rumbled – it was heavy, but she'd been planning to eat more tonight, and she was hungry. “Great! In that case, we can go to somewhere for dessert! In case you didn't notice, we skipped it at the Sisilean place!” Kal looked askance. “Skipped. You ate like five slices of cake, Stacey!” Stacey punched him in the arm. “Yeah, slices! That was just because I thought you wanted to leave. Five slices is like starvation rations! Five cakes would be a good start! We can --- Oh! Oh! Look at this!” Staceline dragged Kal towards a different display in the window of the jewellery shop. It was an advertisement for an exhibition. “I've seen this before!” Staceline explained. “The Fentiman-Jowelle Exhibition?” Kal read the card, on which various drawings of supposedly antique curios were arranged around the main title and details of the exhibition. “No, no! This thing!” Staceline pointed at a drawing of stylised cow-head, seemingly a large silver antique statue of exotic origin. “You want to buy it?” “Yes!” Staceline said, before changing her mind. “No! But I want to find out what it's doing in the city, and who's interested in it... Um. Why? Well, have you heard about the so-called Cream Poisoner?” “Isn't the Cream Poisoner some kind of made-up explanation for why so many girls in the city are eating themselves sick? Which they do anyway, because they're greedy gluttons?” Kal asked. “Yes. And I'm happy you and I think alike, Kal. But it may also be something to do with that silver cow statuette, which is the emblem of an organisation called the Cult of Cream, and...” Kal laughed. “No, really!” “Okay.” “And... If there is a Cult of Cream in the capital, it's my patriotic duty as a duchess of the realm to investigate.” “Is it really?” “Yes. Well, no. But investigating ancient cults is more fun than dating – oh, shit, present company excepted, Kal – so I want to. Plus, my countrywomen's waistlines may be at stake! The Cult of Cream used to fatten up noble ladies until they couldn't walk! And, although I'm sure my metabolism would protect me from any such nefarious plans, I have to think about my friends, like Alicia, who...” Staceline stuck her tongue out. She'd been about to say it was her duty to protect her friends, like Alicia, from being fattened up into vast obesity by some sort of fat cult... But, while this was true – it was Staceline's duty to protect Alicia from such sinister schemes – the Duchess couldn't help but add the additional thought, “And if anyone's going to fatten up Alicia into vast obesity, it's going to be me! So I want to know how they plan to do it! And if they have any really irresistible recipes that Alicia could get hooked on!” Anyway, Staceline remembered she had a companion this evening. “So let's head back to my place, so I can write and get myself invited to this exhibition. We can grab a couple cheesecakes on the way. You can feed them to me while I write... If that's okay with you, Kal?” “Whatever you want, Stacey.” “Great!” * *
  7. OK, this concludes a chapter. And Chloe's current weight is revealed to be: 19 stone, or 266 lbs! Chapter 2: Fattening Footballers (part 3) The loud, posh voice of Ms Samantha Trimm, Director of Fitness, carried over the hubbub of Devilish Milkshakes. She was instructing her entourage in the purpose of their visit. She had brought them along, to: “... Unveil the new selection of eight delicious – and fabulously low calorie – Trimm Shakes! In addition to this tasting event, after which I will eagerly look forward to reading your wholly unbiased reviews of my fabulous new Trimm Shakes in your various magazines, there will be the opportunity for you to take promotional pictures, and perhaps for you to mingle with some of Gainesburg's delightful students in an authentic college-town atmosphere!” “Hey, Miss Trimm!” Beck said in his most distractingly charming voice. “What brings you to the milk bar?” Samantha Trimm looked around. She seemed to have just finished instructing the assortment of junior professional types around her, who were now taking an interest in photographing the array of thick milkshakes set out on the countertop. “Ah, Beck Bronte!” Samantha trilled, and licked her lips. “Why, I am introducing these excellent young journalism interns and magazine writers to the delights of my new trademarked line of Trimm Shakes! Ahead of the release of my hotly anticipated new diet book where I will reveal their secret recipes...” “Oh!” Said the muscular male swimming captain. Pleasingly, Ms Trimm had directed her attention towards him. Therefore she was unlikely to spot Chloe leave the ladies room. Beck decided to chatter distractingly. He tried to avoid being put off when Samantha Trimm leaned forwards and stroked his arm proprietorially. Her Sari strained! There was quite a bulge that formed around her tummy area as she leaned... Hmm, it didn't look to Beck like Ms Trimm had been sticking to just diet milkshakes! The trays of milkshakes on the countertop were eagerly attacked by the crowd of young professionals whom Samantha had described as journalists. They cooed over the delicious flavours of Samantha Trimm's recipes – and exclaimed how remarkable it was that such flavoursome drinks could be so low in calories! Only 100 calories each, according to Ms Trimm! Truly, their write-ups would be most favourable! They said as much to each other – while also exclaiming how good the dinner had been at the free “journalism training weekend” to which Samantha Trimm had invited them all. And they also cooed over the generous vouchers and bags of wines she had given to them, as part of the “course.” Beck suspected she was bribing them to give good write-ups of her new book. He also suspected the “Trimm Shakes” on the Devilish Milkshakes countertop were nothing of the sort. Beck shot a glance at the waitress, Lena, who rolled her eyes. Hmm, that seemed to confirm Beck's suspicions: the “Trimm Shakes” looked exactly like some of Devilish Milkshakes' Triple-Malt shakes, except with a handwritten label stuck into each drink on a plastic straw, proclaiming them to be variously a “Tropical Trimmshake” or a “Slimming Skimmed Slurpy” or some similar thing. Surely... Surely Ms Trimm couldn't be passing off the milk bar's delicious but ultra-fattening malt shakes as her own low-calorie creations, could she? “Wow, Ms Trimm! Those look just like Devilish Maltshakes!” Beck noted. “But you say they're actually healthy?” “They certainly are, Mister Bronte! My Trimm Shakes are just one hundred calories each – and yet utterly delicious! They're the perfect diet food for the millions of helpless fatties this country produces! Heh...” Samantha Trimm brushed Beck's hand. “Perhaps you'd like me to send Chloe a recipe? It must be frustrating for a fit young man like you to watch his girlfriend gain so much squishy weight!” Beck held his tongue. He could have said exactly how much he adored Chloe's strong but fleshy build, and that he was kind of turned on that she could wrestle him into submission four times out of five... But that was the kind of thing he'd admit to his team-mates after a few drinks, and not to the sinister Director of Fitness. Hell, Miss Trimm would probably be so incensed if he owned up to loving Chloe's bombastic curves that she'd probably accuse him of deliberately over-feeding Gainesburg College's star athlete, in order to fatten her up for better sex! Which... Wouldn't be a hundred percent wrong! Certainly, all the peanut butter and cheesecake he'd hand-fed Chloe while simultaneously fucking her had to be responsible for a few of her added pounds... Beck Bronte was rescued from the tricky conversation with Ms Trimm... By the sexy Blonde Beast herself. He noticed Chloe's epic boobs squishing into his shoulders from behind him at the same time as a strong arm reached around and pulled him away from the salivating Miss Samantha Trimm – who had been making Beck uneasy by starting to drool over him. “Hey, Beck!” Chloe chirped. Chloe was about to continue, “Hey, Ms Trimm. It's my boyfriend's bed-time! Mind if I take him away?” But, first, Chloe noticed the tray of malt-shakes on the countertop. The blonde licked her lips. “Hey Ms Trimm!” Chloe said. “Are those malt-shakes? Devilish Maltshakes are amazing! But they're so fattening! Um. Do you want all of them, or could I have one? Just to, um, keep my strength up while I'm taking my boyfriend home?” Behind Ms Trimm, a few of the intern journalists took an interest. “Malt-shakes?” One of them squeaked. “I thought she said these were low calorie? I'm on a diet! I mustn't touch malt! I'll balloon!” Ms Trimm scowled. “No, Southern. These are not malt-shakes! How dare you suggest such a thing! These are my new range of low-calorie Trimm Shakes! And the fine young journalists accompanying me are going to write glowing reviews of their exquisite flavour! Then their fatty readers will flock to the shops to buy my latest diet book!” “Malt-shakes? These do taste super high-calorie!” Exclaimed a petite Asian journalist, who was slurping her second Chocolate Trimm Shake. “Ms Trimm? Are these drinks really low calorie?” “Of course they are, Vanessa!” Snapped Ms Trimm. “Don't be so impertinent!” Chloe leaned forwards over her boyfriend, and echoed the petite journalism intern. “C'mon, Ms Trimm. These are Devilish Maltshakes! I know, because I've been drinking loads to help with my weight training! They're so good! I swear I could never have have hit my goal weight of nineteen stone this semester without them! But are you really passing them off as diet food? So you get nice reviews? That's really sneaky!” Chloe said loudly. And, thanks to her huge lungs, Chloe could be very loud when she wanted. All the young journalists paused. “Southern! Shut up!” Chloe was having far too much fun to shut up. “So, how about a challenge, Ms Trimm?” Said the blonde. The surrounding journalists looked up at the word challenge... Well, actually, one of them was already filming the photogenic blonde on his camera phone. “If these things really are only one hundred calories per pint, Ms Trimm... That means we could each chug a whole tray of them, and it'd take less than one gym session to burn off! So, why don't we have a – hmm – staff versus student milkshake-drinking contest? And – as a bonus – then you could give your reviewers your own, first-hand account of how good these are!” Chloe licked her lips. The journalists voiced their agreement. Especially the one on a diet, who was regarding her drink with a nervous look. She wanted Ms Trimm to drink up, to reassure her that she wasn't about to bloat from the sweet, creamy calorie bomb she'd been slurping. Samantha Trimm looked a little green. She tugged at something underneath the middle of her royal blue Sari, which looked uncomfortably tight. Chloe's outfit was tight too. In fact, she'd tugged her pink sweater down to cover up the way her straining size sixteen jeans barely buttoned. Her semester's weight training had gone so well that a size eighteen would be more decent for public wear – but she liked squeezing into jeans so tight they frayed, so she hadn't yet upsized. “Oh, very well!” Samantha Trimm said reluctantly. Chloe happily slid the tray of Trimm Shakes towards the Fitness Director, who selected a Tropical Trimmshake and sipped delicately. “C'mon, Miss Trimm!” Chloe enthused, as she grabbed her own Tropical Trimmshake from the next tray along the counter and chugged it in one. “Urp! So delicious! But I swear it tastes so fattening! C'mon, your journalists want you do drink up to prove you haven't had them slurping shit that'll ruin their figures!” Chloe happily glugged what she knew from experience to be a pint of triple chocolate Devilish Maltshake. Then she waited patiently while Ms Trimm's journalism students exhorted her to catch up – and to comment on the flavour. “Oh!” Ms Trimm groaned, after her second-pint of malt-shake. “What do you think of the Triple Chocolate Trimmshake, Miss Trimm?” Asked Vanessa, holding out a voice recorder. “Burp! Oooh! My tummy!” Samantha Trimm groaned, looking more than a little green. “Hazelnut and almond malt-shake – oops, I mean Trimm Shake. This is one of my favourites!” Chloe slid a third pint towards Samantha Trimm, whose belly had swollen up within her tight, blue Sari. The bulge was much more than a few milkshakes would account for! Perhaps Ms Trimm had been overeating! Could she be wearing firm, contoured underwear, that was on the point of giving out? Chloe fully intended to find out, and swiped another tray of Devlish Malt-shakes. “Banana and Cream, and Winter Berries! These are super fattening! I'm lucky my boyfriend likes me squishy!” Chloe said helpfully, as she took some fresh “Trimm Shakes” from Lena, her waitress friend, and distributed them between Ms Trimm and herself. Samantha Trimm moaned as she slurped, but the journalism interns – many fearful for their figures – threatened bad reviews if she relented! To do so would be an admission that the Trimm Shakes she'd been feeding them were not low calorie after all! Eventually, the last drop of fattening malt was drained from her eighth pint of Trimm Shake, and Samantha pushed the final glass away from her with a sick expression! Chloe watched with amusement. She was pretty full. But she was still comfortable – her vast appetite and calorie processing capacity being up to the task of chugging a gallon of malt-shake, even after the heavy calories she'd packed away earlier. Ms Trimm, on the other hand, was not so lucky. Her cheeks bulged! She panted. With each pant, her stomach bulged to a huge dome, before going back in as if restrained by some sort of elastic undergarment at it's very limit. Heh. Be mean to a witch, would you? Chloe thought carefully. She hardly ever used magic in public... Tonight would be an exception. She covered her mouth with her hand, and made a very convincing pretence of burping from the effect of all the malt-shakes. “Pans!” Chloe burped. SNAP! The whip-like sound echoed across the milk bar. But that wasn't what silenced all conversation! Oh no. What stopped every conversation – then drew gales of laughter and a plethora of smartphone video footage from every angle – was the way Samantha Trimm's Sari suddenly ripped down it's entire front, as the greedy businesswoman's creamy stomach suddenly ballooned outwards like she was six-months pregnant! The only thing disguising her fat belly had been the suddenly-snapped black lycra shapewear that flew all the way over the bar, propelled by the pent-up elastic strain energy suddenly released at the moment when Samantha Trimm's gluttonous overconsumption finally pushed it beyond bursting point! RIP! “Burp!” “Ms Trimm! Tell us more about how your amazing diet secrets help you to stay so slim!” Yelled Vanessa, while pushing her audio-recorder forwards. As gales of laughter flooded the bar, Chloe decided it was time to get on with her evening. She slipped an arm under Beck, and lifted him off his bar stool... She was horny, and it was definitely time she took her boyfriend to bed. * *
  8. Hehe! Connie rolls CON with FAST METABOLISM (12,66) / CON 70, comfortable pass to pack away those tarts. Now I've got to find a d12... Used a spreadsheet... Connie eats 6 dishes! Hell, she's greedy, so she tries for a seventh... ATHLETICS rolls to keep her tummy sucked in enough: 45, 78, 01, 82, 29, 88, 14. Just one more dish... 85. Dress straining! Connie reduces her dress to 1 HP. This sounds like a roll where "Frequent Feaster" might have been useful. "I hope you don't think I've eaten a little too much, My Lord?" Connie giggled. Somehow, her seam had only popped a few threads here and there.
  9. Connie's opposite number, just for reference as an NPC. Name: Baroness Delicia deRiere Race: Human (+10 Cha, +10 Ath, -10 Int, -10 Con) Class: Rogue Age: 27 Height: 5’10’’ Starting Weight: 139 lbs Current Weight: 139 lbs Hit Points: 10 ATHLETICS: 20 +20 +10 = 50 CONSTITUTION: 30 - 10 = 20 INTELLIGENCE: 50 + 10 -10 = 50 WILLPOWER: 40 -10 = 30 CHARISMA: 60 +10 +10 = 80 FAT-FETISH 72 /. NORMIE: 80 FAT POINTS: 20, Normal. 7 lbs per Fat Point FAT FEATS: Gotta Get Thin; Slow Metabolism Bonds: du Floofe creations (minor): fabulous fashions that provide +10 to impress NORMY / THIN preference characters, provided the wearer has a FAT score of 21 or less Diplomatic influence (minor): +10 to influence a diplomatic contact, in return for a previous (or future) favour. Tart lore (minor): +10 on checks regarding knowledge of calorific pastries, or persuading others to OVEREAT
  10. Connie savoured a spoonful of potato salad while she surveyed the ballroom and planned her evening. The impressive package that was so tightly wrapped in the handsome young sorcerer’s tights would have induced a younger Connie, back when she’d been a debutante, to make a beeline in his direction and ply him with attention until she secured an invitation to his bedchamber for an evening of hard riding… But, as an experienced and somewhat more mature diplomat, Connie had experienced bigger, on many occasions – and vastly bigger, in the case of her recent mission to frost giant lands! And the young sorcerer was likely not rich enough to make a promising match. Still, Connie smiled in his direction, and enjoyed the look on his face as she popped a whole boiled duck egg into her mouth and swallowed it in a single, practiced motion. Mmm! It was done to perfection. Connie decided to devote most of her evening to charming the Brigade’s commander, a vigorous but older nobleman of her principality who was typically away from court – either on campaign or overseeing his large dairy estates – whenever Connie was around, so she only knew him slightly. But she knew well enough that his lands and income were the sort of thing Connie’s mother would approve of. Before heading in his direction to initiate an evening of seduction, however, Connie worked the ballroom a little, making a few new acquaintances and renewing some old ones. Delightfully, one of her friends who so happened to be at the knightly ball, and who was staring hungrily at the ball’s vast buffet table as Connie approached with a quip on her lips, was the Baroness Delicia deRière. Baroness Delicia deRière was Connie’s opposite number – in almost every possible sense. The Baroness hailed from the fat-friendly Duchy of Embonpoint. She, like Connie, was a senior diplomat and an accomplished seductresses, and they had become fast, although sarcastic, friends as they frequently crossed-paths on the diplomatic circuit. Their friendship had been helped along by the fact that Connie was the roaming representative of a court which enforced strict standards of skinniness at home, who spent most of her time flaunting her curvaceous figure and golden hair on missions to fat-friendly foreign courts; whereas Delicia was the raven-haired, naturally-chubby but now ultra-lean ambassador of one of those fat-friendly courts, who had secured her position by starving herself skinny (everywhere except her pert bust) to impress her Duke, whose preference was for women far slimmer than the fat nobleladies of his court! Delicia’s Duke assigned her primarily to courts that demanded strict skinniness from their noblewomen. This meant Connie and Delicia tended to pursue different targets, so they seldom trod on each other’s toes and, in fact, frequently compared notes when they crossed paths at mixed courts – such as the Red Empress’s, for example. “Delicia! That dress looks absolutely spectacular! You must give me the name of your seamstress!” Connie enthused. The Baroness’s dress was of diaphanous blue silk, with a low-cut square neckline and cinched by elaborate silk strapping which showcased it’s wearer’s exceptionally lean and fat-free body. It hung off Delicia’s figure, and emphasised her long, lean limbs as she moved… Connie could practically hear the poor girl’s tummy rumbling – although it wasn’t actually – as the formerly chubby diplomat stared lustfully at the vast array of pastries, meats, and heavy foods on offer to the ball’s guests. “Connie!” Smiled Delicia, before a sarcastic look crossed her pretty face… Sarcastic retorts were one of the few things sufficiently non-fattening that they were allowed to cross Delicia’s lips. “Thank you for the compliment, Connie, but I’m afraid there wouldn’t be any point! Madame du Floofe is my dressmaker… But she only works with the finest silks, and, alas, she says that it would be an insult to her fabrics to use them in so large a quantity as to make a dress with a waistline over 24 inches. So, I’m afraid you could never fit into any of her masterpieces! Although you are looking thinner than usual, this evening! Fat Camp, again?” Connie made a sour look at the mention of Fat Camp. “Ugh! I swear those beastly Fat Camp diets get worse every year! Three tiny servings of food a day – I wouldn’t even call them snacks – and I can’t wait for another mission abroad so I can eat properly again!” Baroness Delicia deRière eyed Connie’s half-eaten but still amply-laden plate with envious eyes. “I’d hardly say you’re undereating to the point of wasting away, Connie. In fact, I remember when you used to be able to almost fit yourself into that Sure Thing dress of yours! How you thought you could get away with it tonight, I don’t know!” Connie licked her lips with a, “Mmm, mmm,” as she savoured a small cherry tart with far more gusto than was polite, given that she was eating in the presence of a very hungry woman. “I don’t know what you mean, Delicia! This dress fits perfectly! And… It’s never let me down yet! In fact, I’ve probably been hammered by more sexy studs thanks to this dress than you’ve had hot desserts!” Delicia huffed. She wasn’t really angry – she was enjoying the chance to vent over her mandatory diet, and trading insults with Connie was a nice distraction from the hunger of her inner fat girl. “Hot desserts? The chance would be a fine thing, Connie! Look at all this fucking food, everywhere, taunting me! But if I take so much as one little forkful of cake, or a spoonful of rice, then, bam: with my fat-girl metabolism I’ll wake up tomorrow seven pounds fatter! I don’t know how you do it, Connie! You eat like an ox, and… Well, you’re frankly fleshy, but you’re nothing like as fat as you deserve!” “Mmm.” Connie ate. “Well, if you want my advice, Delicia, you should eat up, put on the curves, and bag yourself a rich man with a fat fetish… Be a shame about Madame du Floofe’s dresses, but your vanity is keeping you hungry and miserable!” “Ugh! My vanity…” Delicia swished her beautiful dress, to show off the fact she wasn’t carrying an ounce of bodyfat anywhere other than her bust. “Keeps me in a very well paid and respected post, and, gets me bedded by more hot studs than you could imagine.” Munch. “Doubt it. ‘ve gotta pretty good memory.” “Oh yeah? How many hot studs did you bed on your last mission, then, Connie?” Delicia asked competitively. Connie counted mentally, then swallowed. “Four.” “Hah! Practically frigid! I bedded eight, all knights!” “I didn’t finish. Four studs, one knightess, and… One seriously over-endowed male frost giant!” Delicia’s jaw went slack. She’d heard about the success of Connie’s trade mission to the mountains, but hadn’t credited it. “No!” “Yep.” Connie said after finishing a mouthful of meatball. Impressively, she was eating without spoiling her lipstick or dropping a thing – diplomatic training! Delicia almost drooled. “What was it like? How did you…” “Heh.” Connie said. “I’ll tell you another time. Let’s just say it’s good that the Jotun mountain range is an easy place to get an icepack... I was sore for hours! And it took me days to get back to my usual... Tightness!” Delicia sighed. “Oh, Connie! I’m so jealous!” Said the skinny diplomat. “Say, could you do me a favour?” “Oh, sure!” Connie said. “I don’t really keep count any more. We’re about even, I think. Whatcha want?” “Connie…” Delicia implored. “Could you tell me what the lemon tart tastes like?” Connie glanced over the buffet. There were lemon tarts. And lime ones, and orange, and apple… “I don’t know, Delicia. I haven’t tried one. I’m, um, trying to eat a little sensibly tonight… This dress is actually a little bit tight, after all!” Baroness Delicia deRière made an unhappy sound. “Oh.” “Why, Delicia?” “Oh. It’s just… Lemon tarts just like those were my absolute favourite! But I can’t try one now… I can’t! Because if I do I know I won’t be able to stop at just one! And I can’t afford to get fat! I’d lose my position, if the Duke found out!” “Oh. That’s bad.” “Yes! But if you tried the lemon tart, Connie, and described what it tastes like to me, exactly, I’d be so grateful!” Connie shrugged. This would be probably the easiest task in the history of diplomacy. She reached for a lemon tart, and popped it in her mouth. “No, Connie!” Delicia moaned. “One little bit at a time!” “Oh.” Connie gulped the tart – pretty delicious – and took another, this time to nibble. She duly described the sweet, soft pastry and the citron tartness in order. Delicia moaned at the description, and looked like her panties would be growing wet – if she’d been wearing any under Madame du Floofe’s dress, which Connie thought was unlikely. “Any more?” Connie asked. Delicia’s expression begged for more. “You want to know about the lime tarts, and the orange tarts, and the apple tarts, right?” Connie deduced. “Mmm. Yes please!” Delicia pleaded. Connie shrugged again. “Okay! But my waistline is going to be spoiled by you, before I even start seducing yonder rich Commander.” Connie said. “So… You’ll have to do me a little task in return.” “Anything! Just tell me about the tarts!” “Great.” Connie said. “So, you know my cousin, Cara. Blonde like me, but cropped hair. Shorter. Legs that could crush an oak tree?” “I know her.” “Okay. I’d like you to steer her towards that sexy brigade sorcerer over there. The one with the---“ “Oversized package.” “Yep!” “Why?” “Oh.” Connie explained innocently. “He seems quite charming. Might be a feeder. I think she’d have a nice time with him, that’s all. Okay?” “Yeah, sure thing.” Delicia assented, as she piled mid-sized tarts onto an extra plate for Connie. “Now, open wide, but don’t gulp!” --- A bit later, Connie strode confidently towards the Commander. Her poise was excellent – but she was sucking in a little. Not because she was at all fat! But she had packed away two large platefuls of tarts: her friend, Delicia, had been hungry, and she’d clearly been badly in need of the vicarious enjoyment of having Connie savour the fattening tarts. So Connie’s tummy was a bit swollen, and sucking in a bit was the best way to ensure her exquisite dress wasn’t put under undue strain… Nothing Connie hadn’t done plenty of times before. “Good evening, Lord Syrrup.” Connie introduced herself to the Commander with a tiny curtsey. She was a countess, so she could get away with the very minimal gesture – and, more to the point, her dress seams were straining and she couldn’t risk anything deeper. “I don’t believe we’ve really met! Whenever I return to court from diplomatic missions, you’re so often away on one of your bold campaigns – or looking after your famous dairy estates! Perhaps this evening is the time for us to finally get to know one another?” Lord Syrrup had spent most of Connie’s introduction – and all of her curtsey – observing the way the gorgeous blonde diplomat’s breasts were wobbling and threatening to escape the confines of her backless, strapless dress. He seemed to enjoy the sight. “But first, My Lord.” Connie suggested. “Perhaps we should get a little dessert from the buffet? There’s such a huge spread tonight, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if we took a selection of it to enjoy somewhere more… secluded. That is… if you think I can risk dessert tonight?” Connie patted her boobs. “ I do find that anything with cream tends to go straight to my bosom, and I have a figure to maintain… After all, my mother does say how important it is I maintain my figure until I finally manage to find the right, rich nobleman to settle down with an produce her an heir or seven!” Lord Syrrup emitted a throaty sound… Hopefully that was a good thing! Connie continued. “What do you think, My Lord? Do you think I can have a bit of pudding?” ---
  11. Heh. Rolls 100 / WILLPOWER 20, fail, unsurprisingly. Rolls FAST METABOLISM (87, 63) / CON 70, pass, just. Oh, and just in case a CHARISMA roll might help to persuade Cara to have too much food and wine for lunch: Rolls 20 / CHA 80 - pass, but might be opposed. Connie leaned back in the outdoor chair of the Greedy Slug, and patted her swollen belly as it bulged and strained her hourglass top. "Oof! I'm very full! That second helping of cheesecake was almost too much! But not quite. Little bit of a walk to help my body deal with all this before dressing for the ball though. I wouldn't want to put on weight!"
  12. Charisma roll: 21 / CHA 80. Pass! "Come with me to the big, knightly ball later? A very reliable confidante of mine said it'll be the best one in years." Connie suggested innocuously, as she hauled herself to her feet and rubbed the bruise on her ass cheek. Oof, it was painful! No spanking sessions for a few days for Connie! "Apparently they've doubled the food budget! Oh, and I know at least a dozen rich, handsome young noblemen are on the guest list! Could be good hunting! Or, if you're willing to pass on rich, and you just want to add a few memorable notches to your bed post... How would you like me to introduce you to a couple of strong young knights who are so well endowed even I found them quite a challenge? Well, I mean, as a duo they were a challenge!" Connie added. "Ball? Double the food budget? Notches?" Cara snorted haughtily. "Still thinking with your stomach and your loins, I see, Connie! No wonder I beat you so easily!" Connie smiled inwardly. Cara might enjoy sneering over Connie's hearty appetite for food and men - but so had her little sis', Carrie, prior to blowing up into an absolute PIG! Connie was pretty sure the lustful appetites of the Decollage women lurked under her cousin Cara's rock hard exterior. Hell, it seemed quite likely that all the time Cara spent pumping iron, until her rock-hard thigh muscles bulged through her tights, was just working off sexual frustration from her comparatively meagre list of successes with men (well, meagre compared with the international bed-hopper that was Connie). Or perhaps it was a lack of success with women that spurred Cara to such efforts! Now there was a thought! Not that Cara didn't like men. In fact, Connie had noticed Cara surreptitiously lick her lips when Connie mentioned the possibility of snagging a well-hung duo. "Not at all, Cara!" Connie denied. "I was just thinking it would be an absolute crime to deny the knights of the realm the chance to admire you! A new Colonel - they might die in battle under your command, Cara. The least you could do is flash a little cleavage in their direction first..." Cara seemed to be looking for an excuse to decline. Connie was pretty sure there wasn't one, so she let her cousin think while they removed their chainmail and heavy padding. "Well, Colonel?" "I think you're just looking for an excuse to stuff your face!" Cara said disdainfully. "Who says I won't? But we're talking about whether you'll come to the ball, Cara! What's your answer to that? Surely you don't want to refuse to meet your handsome, rich knights? After all, it's important for an officer to get to know her men as well as possible! Or so I've always said..." Cara grumbled her reply. Connie took it for a, "yes." "Great! Now, let's go and discuss our ball gowns over lunch! Don't look at me like that, Cara! I know a new salad bar we can go to. I've worked up quite an appetite from all that duelling, and I need to take in some good nutrition to help heal my poor, bruised bottom! And, Cara, you really must let me buy you a meal - and good wine - by way of belated congratulations for your wonderful promotion to Colonel!" Connie neglected to mention that the salad bar in question just happened to be renowned for the delicious, oily vinaigrettes and fattening dressings with which it slathered its wholesome greens and fruits. It was quite possible Cara wouldn't notice. And perhaps a few calories would take the edge off the crop-haired officer's temper. If so, it would be all the better for her prospects of seducing a couple of handsome knights tonight! And if Connie could get that done early in the evening, then she get on with her own task of snagging a rich boyfriend with a huge package of... land. After all, those lucrative heirs her mother kept mentioning weren't going to make themselves, and if Connie was going to be in the principality for much longer then the excuse of a "fertility diet" - not that her full hips were in any real need of one - would be just the ticket to escape the beastly, waistline-minimising regimes enforced by her countrywomen! Having complained about Connie's missing her promotion ceremony, Cara was not in a position to turn down the offer of lunch and wine, even though a meal with Connie was sure to be very bad for her physical regimen! Instead, she decided to snark about their great aunty's inheritance, and how Cara was looking forward to the best share. "Yes, all the rich foods from our family lands really are amazing, aren't they?" Connie replied. "Whoever inherits the best land is going to be able to eat herself sick on a regular basis! I just hope your tummy can handle it, Cara! I know mine could, but I guess I'll just end up in that spooky old castle, practically starving and barely needing a corset, while you'll be staggering to bed and busting seams on your lingerie every night after the most colossal feasts! I hope you'll invite me for dinner from time to time!" The Decollage cousins arrived at the Greedy Slug salad bar, where Connie proceeded to order a very big meal.
  13. Oh, this is fantastic, and so many options for Connie to be torn between! FAST METABOLISM gives Connie ADVANTAGE to avoid weight gain. Rolls (11, 75) / CON 70. Pass. Connie licked her lips as she waited for her servants to attend her, and savoured the delicious black currant flavour from the dream. Her flat tummy rumbled, from within her silky lingerie. She was hungry, and looked forward to a nice big breakfast. After all, in the absence of all the frost giant sized meals she'd enjoyed on her last diplomatic mission - not to mention to the immensely well-hung frost giant with a feeding fetish whom she had seduced, albeit at the cost of significant, temporary bulges being added to her figure - her firm physique gave her license to indulge without too much consequence. "Haha!" Connie laughed happily, as her maids arrived with the fixings of a luxurious bath. "Now, what to do today?" A new mission? Well, Connie did enjoy checking in with the Prince! But... Perhaps she would do so later. After all, Connie knew his little secret! He admired the fuller figure, and, frankly, Connie was at her least voluptuous since at least a couple of missions ago! He would, she was sure, be more appreciative if she checked in on him after she'd put a few more big breakfasts between herself and that beastly fat camp! Hmm. Cara or Carrie, then? It was good to see Carrie enjoying marriage to her Viscount! Connie had pinned the man for a feeder after enjoying his company at just a few diplomatic dinners. "A little more pouring cream with this extra helping of chocolate cake, Countess Contoura? Or do you prefer clotted?" He'd asked. "Why not a lashing of both, My Lord?" Connie had replied, her bosom heaving after a very filling banquet, and the man had been quite besotted. Still, as rich as he was, the Viscount had been a touch too boring for Connie - or not well enough hung, to be more precise - so she'd steered him Carrie's way. They'd hit it off famously. And, while Connie would have enjoyed helping her sister to select the best desserts, she was sure her little sister's marriage to the Viscount with a feeding fetish would only benefit if Carrie had the opportunity to stuff herself to her limit on sample-menus without Connie guzzling the lion's share... Well, so long as her fatty little sister didn't pop! Then there was that dratted duel with Cara. Connie was a competent swordswoman, but Cara was in another league. Bah. What that skinny cousin of hers needed was a damn good feed, in the company of a sexy young knight! Hmm. Connie had an idea... She could grab her sword, and go and give Cara a quick duel. And then, if time permitted, she could use her diplomatic skills to talk Cara into attending the upcoming knightly tournament, feast, and ball... Then, with Connie to guide her, Cara could hardly help but finish the evening with a delightful trip to the bedchamber of a buff young knight. Anyway, that was if time permitted. Connie strapped herself into her combat gear, and gave her sword a few experimental swings... After all, if the duel went well, a castle was still a castle, even if a bit decrepit! "Mmm, a feast!" Connie licked her lips, as she finished her breakfast and wiped her mouth on a napkin. ATHLETICS: 70. Fail.
  14. Quick bit of knowledge: mathematics... The FAT thresholds here might be a bit low (however, based on some calculations, this may be exactly as intended, and might work very well!). Because of the way ATHLETICISM decreases with increasing FAT, a character with initial ATHLETICS 30 would be IMMOBILISED by a FAT SCORE of 27. This is because, as FAT increases (20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, ... ), ATHLETICS decreases - under the base rules, as (30,28,26,24,22,19,16,13*, ...) with 13 being the first ATHLETICS value under half of the corresponding FAT SCORE of 27. Among the PCs, Kayla (ATH 30, at FAT 20) would be affected, except that she has a BADONKADONK, which modifies the athletics progression to (30, 30, 30, 30, 30, 26, 22, 18, 14*), and so she'd be IMMOBILISED by a FAT SCORE of 28. Contoura's (and Aurora's) ATHLETICS "progression" would be (50, 48, 46, 44, 42, 39, 36, 33, 30, 27, 24, 20*), and she'd be IMMOBILISED by a FAT SCORE of 31. Now, this might be as intended. Essentially, Contoura (if she indulges herself *quite a bit*) would be obliged to take BIG BONED or NATURAL ATHLETE by FAT 30 to remain mobile. And that could be about right for a knight, if by IMMOBILE one means "ineffective in combat" - because they really would have to be BIG BONED or similar, to still be any good. For the literal reading of "cannot walk under their own power," bear in mind that the ATHLETICS decrease is the dominant factor, and a FAT of 27-31 might be lower than intended for this, and a better rule for this case might be: IMMOBILE when FAT SCORE > (the higher of 35 or ATHLETICS at "ideal" weight). Now, this depth of analysis might be over the top for a game...
  15. I'd enjoy writing some (simple) bits for Contoura, and conclude with what action / rolls she plans to take, if you'd like to set out a scene / situation. I'll look forward to seeing what you have in mind "You meet at a banquet..." Oh, yes, Bonds for Connie: Frequent Feaster. As a diplomat, Countess Contoura Decollage has had ample practice at packing away hearty banquets, sometimes even when she has just arrived hot-foot from a double-booked dinner, and other times involving some rather gross "local delicacies" that a less accomplished diplomat might balk at swallowing. She can invoke a +10 bonus to avoid getting sick from overconsumption or from food of questionable wholesomeness. Using this bond successfully will, generally, mean that she OVEREATS. Fad Dieter. After her extensive travels at fat-friendly courts, Contoura has occasionally found that the unforgiving dresses and corsets of her home city are impossibly tight, and has had to drop a few inches to prevent her catty rivals subjecting her to a humiliating weight-audit - an embarrassing ordeal in which the allegedly overweight noblewoman is forced to sit on a massive set of weighing scales in the throne room, where her bulk is compared with various women with acceptable figures... While overweight, Contoura can invoke this bond to gain a +10 bonus on dieting checks (WILL and ATH - I'd rule). However, the faddish all-fruit diets and their ilk, that she learned in foreign courts, are hard to maintain, and for a fortnight after concluding such a diet (which can be more than 2 weeks long, if necessary) she is at DISADVANTAGE to avoid OVEREATING. Prince's Favourite. The prince of her home city is a feeder who enjoys watching Contoura gorge herself at banquets... By agreeing to join him for an extra meal in private, at which Contoura will most assuredly OVEREAT, Contoura gains +10 on an action with which the prince could assist.
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