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That was great! A little more detail on her body is my preference. How thick are her thighs? Are her boobs sagging? Is she getting a double chin?

Another photoshoot is up today, newly released one from before she announced her pregnancy/started showing. Not sure on their exact date, but her rack was already bigger and her body was starting to thicken a bit at the waist. Let's hope these are the thinnest Pics of her for a long time. I'm more than a bit excited to think about just how much pregnancy gain could wreck that tight body. Kate looked like she was going to have major problems with sagging when she got older since she was nineteen and now it's in her immediate future. She'll probably get it nipped and tucked, but we can hope.

To Finally finish it up. Epilogue: Two weeks out of Wide-Harbor without sign of pursuit and Rachel let herself and her crew relax. The 'banned' stocks of the galley were thrown open and the entire crew was allowed to gorge itself silly. Every stomach bulged out, whether it be the flat abs of a slender crew girl, the growing paunch of First Mate Cassandra, Princess Seserachad's plump belly, Bethany's overweight curves or Rachel's mammoth collection of rolls. There was eating and drinking and fucking, until there wasn't a single stitch of clothing on anyone and everyone but the watch was passed out inebriated. Rachel was the last one to lose consciousness, tubby Princess Seserachad leaning up against her own obese figure in her custom made throne. Her stomach, buried deep inside a wall of lard, was painfully full of booze and goodies, hundreds of empty calories that would only add to her immensity. From her sagging tits to the heavy apron of her gut to her doorway breaking hips Rachel had to admit she was fat, and that she was probably going to be so for a good while. But that could wait until later.

'That...that was a bad idea...,' Yennefer grunted, as her pathetic core muscles gave out and she collapsed back onto her eating couch, losing her view of a still gorging Triss and the battlefield of empty dishes. By the Gods she didn't believe in, she was sitting on a couch because her profession had become so gluttonous she'd had to abandon chairs. The raven haired beauty breathed as deep as she dared, chest constrained by the salacious sprawl of her sagging tits and the painfully heavy dome of a stomach stuffed to the brim with pies. Loud, ominous rumblings came from the milky pale dome that used to be her washboard stomach, which had risen up from the shredded ruins of her tent like dress like a phoenix from its ashes. Was that really her gut? Was she...how could she be this fat? Yen reached out a hand, a fat, puffy hand sticky with sugar and stained with syrup to feel the horribly stuffed ball of her waist...fingers plunging into a pillow of buttery fat stretched taut over a month of heavy deserts. Her breathing rose, short shallow breathes that seemed almost a parody of love making. Love making...she hadn't even thought of that in weeks, her permanent bloating, daily discomfort and endless weight gain banishing any thought except for misery, indigestion and pain. The sorceress was at the peak of that discomfort now, almost every part of herself disabled via over indulgence. A once glamorous body was far too weak and stuffed to sit up, her genius mind was too oversated to attempt thought and she was to full to even think about casting a spell to ease her misery. Panting, wheezing, the once petite enchantress' mind at last turned to long denied pleasure. She'd been perfect: svelte, petite, slender and curvaceous. Raven of hair, porcelain of skin, purple of eye, narrow of waist, round of hip, high of breast, slim of thigh. And all of that was gone, rapidly buried in a seemingly endless amount of lard that should have been on some other woman's body. Everything was swollen and immense: the only reason her breasts didn't sag down to her waist was because her waist had turned into an apron starting to sag down to her knees, her thighs were sausages so over stuffed they ripped through tights on a daily basis, her fingers had outgrown all of her rings, her feet had gotten too fat for most of her shoes, her delicate chin had tripled into a sagging jowl...and she had a hump. A hump of fat swelling over the top of her shoulders again...she could barely stand to see any of her swollen, useless body much less be seen... And she felt herself tremble and moisten at the thought. Every act of living was a humiliation for her and it made her breath all the faster. What must her students think to see her a waddling balloon of a woman struggle down the hallway? What must they whisper to each other as they ignored their own increasing plumpness to focus on the woman they used to respect? She was probably one of the fattest women they'd ever seen after all...she'd gone beyond fat matron with this latest meal... 'I don't know how much I should eat, I've already become quite the porker,' Yennefer had said upon seeing the smorgashborg of sugar and spice before her, 'nor am I sure you should either...' 'Well...its becoming the fashion isn't it?' Triss laughed nervously, showing a new chin, 'And if our students are fat, well, we shouldn't let them feel bad by staying thin...' Triss' slightly wider freckled face had blushed, not quite in embarrassment as she tapped her own plump belly. The red head was a highly plush plumper, looking like a rich young matron with delusions of fitting into her bell of the ball dress again, even though the fruit stains on her fingers and lips suggested she'd hit three hundred pounds by thirty at a normal rate of gain. 'So we should eat a room full of deserts?' Yenn had asked. 'No, I got a bit over zealous baking...,' Triss half lied, 'and well if we just have a little of each one...' A little had rapidly turned into each swollen sorceress forcing as much of the collection into her mouth as she could. Yennefer had unleashed herself: for months she'd starved herself, eating little but salad all while becoming an obscene blob with a ravenous appetite. Now that appetite was loose and she was eating like the fatty she'd become... She was a fatty. She was fat. Fat. FAT. Yenn gave a small gasp and reached a hand towards her sex. A dripping layer of sweat was coating her whole body, over heating just from trying to digest this fresh pile of food, but she felt how she dripped still. She had to force her clumsy fingers past the ripped ruin of her dress and beneath the droop of her stomach, jostling her paunch and latest gluttonous conquest to reach her trembling clit. Pinned prone as she was, the Sorceress could only get it with the very tip of her index finger but that was enough. Explosions of pleasure shot up her nerves, making her mouth hang open and her tongue loll out. She bit her lip, trying to keep quiet, even as her free hand clumsily grasped for a swollen nipple. It had been so long since she'd even felt like doing this. She, a sorceress famed for her beauty who could take any lover she wanted, was reduced to clumsily playing with herself under the table while her fat girl friend ate herself into obesity ten feet away. 'Urp,' Triss moaned from the other side of the table, 'hey...Yen...you awake...' 'Uh,' Yennefer froze, the precise, eloquent woman's tongue frozen. 'How about...how about we...go down to the hot baths...,' Triss offered.

Aurelia waddled angrily. It was a difficult mode to do, putting rage into a humiliating rub of thighs, but the dhampire made it work. Every heavy rasp of her suet soft legs was another reminder she'd been cast so far down into mortality she'd hit milfdom. The eternally young, delicate debutante blood countess was now a wobbling, obese milf to be with limited mobility and swollen, sagging tits leaving a trail of milk drops behind her...to say nothing of her hopefully temporary bovine features. Stomping into her enemy's very bed room, the Blood Countess was tempted to set the whole thing on fire! Yes it might kill her, but it might also kill that bitch Janilla who was making her suffer all of this! Yes, it had to all be part of that wretched sorceress' plan. None of this could be her fault! But walking around naked wouldn't do. Fumbling through the wardrobes, ignoring the surely jeering eyes of her companions, Aurelia managed to find a lot of clothes that would fit a fashionable, slender young woman. One that Aurelia wasn't anymore. Might never be again. Fuming, she had to stuff her massive hangers into an armored bra of leather, wool and steel that just barely fit the milky melons. Strapped and buckled in, her back no longer screamed at her, although her breasts were so huge that she couldn't even see the heavy swell of her gut. Which prevented any actual clothing but one...a bright pink satin night gown with a wide skirt and huge frilly sleeves, cut for a heavily pregnant woman. Grumbling oaths of vengeance, Aurelia squeezed herself inside, managing to just tie on the belt around her falsely gravid gut and took a look in the large mirror to see how awful it was...

Triss' eyes opened blearily, finding herself on the floor. Confusion over her location rippled through her, as well as the deep grogginess of a hangover. Slowly, the sorceress remembered she was in Toussaint and that she'd agreed to an insane gambit with Yennefer to gain a massive amount of weight. That would explain the smell of food wafting from the table that sat above her, as well as the ring of her tongue found around her lips. The crimson haired sorceress moved to sit up, finding her body responding with apalling slowness. Her limbs quivered from simple effort and her stomach shifted painfully as it bumped against her thighs. Triss had gotten used to her body growing clumsier and weaker as she'd gained weight over the last few months, but this was at another level. Her cheeks flushed crimson in shame and horror as she stared down at herself, finding herself completely naked and ruinously obese. Triss had thought herself fat before but had to admit now that she'd merely been very plump. Now she was well past obesity: her breasts hadn't grown an inch outwards yet now sagged down pathetically, her pink nipples pointing straight down. They rested on a double belly that spilled like a lake onto her thighs, her navel was again flanked by bright red striation and the fat sagged so much she couldn't even see her sex. This latest weight gain had settled heavily onto her lower body: her immense thighs were wide as pillows, and her knees had turned into dimples between her elephantine thighs and frighteningly thick ankles. The entirity of her once perfect legs were subsumed completely in an ocean of cellulite, as well as flaring out to the side so much that they were wider than her shoulders. A hideous collection of spider veins stood out on the swollen surface as well. 'What did you think was going to happen Triss?' she groaned to herself, 'Its just temporary though, Yennefer said she could fix it. And I should be stronger, right?' The enchantress reached for her magic, finding it ...the same. If anything, her powers had atrophied a bit from disuse. Fury overwhelmed her, she'd gotten fatter than ever for nothing! Had Yennefer known this would happen? That tubby bitch! Triss forced herself to her feet with wobbling arms, gasping a fat girl grunt as she did and feeling light headed. She saw that the devastated table, heaped with piles of gnawed bones and empty platters, was bereft of her brunette rival and turned to storm from the room. Before this feast, Triss had been annoyed at her thighs rubbign together, now she found her pace drastically shortened as she was reduced to a squat, slow waddle by her thighs. Pain dug into her hip as she pushed through the dining room and her extreme pear curves dug into the wall and the corner of the table. She pushed them aside with sausage fingers, lumbering her way through even as her ass knocked over an empty wine bottle with the shatter of glass. The stairs formed a problem: Triss' enormous hips pressed against the handrail on the left and the railing on the right, to say nothing of the effort it took for each of her blobby limbs to take a step upwards. She had to waddle her way side ways, flabby tummy on the handrail and her draft horse wide ass pressing against the railing, the wood bowing outwards as she passed. Finally, grunting and sweating, heart hammering, the sorceress reached the top and blasted open Yennefer's door with a burst of magic. 'Yennefer!' the enraged sorceress roared, stomping in and coming immediately to a halt. Partly the sight of Yennefer stopped her. She'd caught raven haired beauty preening naked in front of a mirror, lovingly stroking a pert bust larger than Triss had ever had with one hand and the round dome of a heaving pot belly with the other. Yennefer was no longer merely chubby, she'd gained just as much weight as Triss. And it looked amazing on her, giving her soft, succulent curves and a delicately cherubic face. The main reason why Triss stopped was because her hips wedged immediately in the door. Fat mushroomed on each side of the damaged frame, catching Triss fast. She swiveled around, forming fat rolls on each side and looked down at her ass. Triss once perfect cheeks looked like piles of melted candle wax the size of catapult balls, she paled at seeing the pallid, sagging mass jiggle and squirm as she tried to force herself through the door. 'Oh goddesses,' Yennefer said with some horror in her face, 'Triss, I didn't know it would do that to you!' The other sorceress walked over, her round hips making it a bouncy sashay that went from her soft thighs up her wide hips across her alluringly plump waist past her overly pert breasts and into her round cheeks. 'You didn't know it would give me an ass like an ogre!?' the stuck Triss groaned before Yennefer widened the door way with a wave of her hand, 'while making you look like a full hour glass?' Yennefer's face winced slightly at that, before reforming its concerned composure, 'Triss...its not about your ass...its about...well look here.' Triss was led in front of a mirror, catching the view of her bloated, pear shaped body from the front and finding her hips even wider than she'd thought. It would take multiple dresses just to surround her widened ass and she'd need a corset to give her tits even the tiniest perk. But it was when she saw her face that Triss gasped in true shock. Like all sorceresses, spells, amulets and concoctions had kept Triss young and fresh faced despite being naturally in her forties. Her cheek bones had been high, her skin smooth and her hair bright, even after she'd grown fat. But that youth was gone now: Triss looked her natural age of 45. Crows feet snarled from the corners of her eyes, while dark bags sat beneath the green orbs. Deep frown lines flanked her thinner lips and several wrinkles split her forehead. Her crimson hair was shot through with grey streaks. 'I'm...I'm old...,' the now middle aged triss groaned.

'Come on tubby tubby, we've gotta get to the briefing room,' Power girl cooed as she floated down the hallway, beckoning Wonder Woman on with a forkful of cake. Diana lumbered forwards after the floating blonde alien, her waddling step as far from an Amazon warrior's confident strut as could be but still be walking. Her mighty threws, graceful as a gazelles, rasped and slapped with each drastically shortened step. Drastically weakened muscles had to work against constant resistance, from the doughy diameter of her swollen thighs pressing constantly against each other to the heavy apron of her gut flapping against her upper thighs. She was shoved into an XL pair of blue leggings that were stretched near transparently tight over her adipose coated limbs, swollen from the pinnacle of womanly athleticism into lazy sausages. Graceless cankles puffed out from the bottom, while the seat was stretched so tightly over her toneless buns Diana's star spangled panties were easy to see. 'This would be easier if you stopped feeding me,' Wonder Woman muttered, 'I've already eaten enough cake for a month this morning!' 'Maybe but I don't want this shrinking from your first workout in...six weeks isn't it?' the busty feeder giggled, spearing the cake covered fork toward's Diana's face. The Amazon's mouth opened automatically, taking in another bomb of sugar despite her protests. Diana swallowed within a second and for a brief moment her eyes rolled back into her head in such pure pleasure that her cherubically bulbous cheeks turned red. She blinked away thoughts sent by Aphrodite and Dionysius, shooting a death glare at her floating tormentor that would have peeled paint from steel, but made the invincible Kryptonian laugh. 'This isn't funny,' Diana muttered, 'I'll barely be able to fight a house cat in this state and you keep feeding me.' 'Hey, that's what you asked for,' Power Girl giggled, 'and you look so cute when you try and be intimidating! Its these fluffy cheeks! You look like a big hamster!' Karen laughed at the next glare and sped forkful after forkful of cake into the brunette's mouth. Not one crumb fell onto Diana's sagging breasts and not one scrap of icing smeared her lips, every single calorie going right into the Amazon's stomach. After the flurry of feeding, the quasi-immortal swayed slightly in pure joy, having become such a glutton that the idea of being force fed was bringing her to the brink. 'Ufff,' the portly warrior groaned, putting a hand on the wall to steady herself, 'Aphrodite, I don't know if I hate you or love you.' 'Let's figure out which later,' Karen chided, trashing the plate and gliding near her taller bedmate, settling her feet at last to the ground, 'although I can give you a hint now...' The slim herone leaned into the obese one for a kiss, but was blocked by the edifice of lard she'd built, a vast dome of a belly that no shirt in the compound could hope to contain. Diana groaned as the enormous, sagging bulk of her waist, somewhere between a swollen ball and a drooping apron, pressed into Karen's still firm midsection. It brought Karen to a halt as much as the expansion of her lover's belly had and her slim fingers inserted themselves into a crease forming at the level of Diana's belly button. Her warrior's abs and huntress' obliques were dead and buried beneath the layers of blubber to such a degree the idea of her doing even basic exercise, let alone being perfectly fit was laughable. 'Remember how pissed you were when Superbabes magazine kept naming you as having the best abs? Wonder what they'd say if they got a look at this double belly you're getting,' Karen cooed, pinching the pillowy lower gut and the slightly firmer upper gallery, 'by the time we bust this anonymous case wide open, I'm betting this is gonna be past your knees. I wonder if I can get you wider than you are tall. Imagine that, the Amazon Princess to big to fit into a door...' Diana, already in a faint sweat from the slightest physical activity, broke into a heavier coating as the hemispheric bulk of her waistline was massaged. Absolute shame at her warrior's physique ballooning into such an embarrassing bulk locked itself in a citadel besieged by armies of joyous eroticism at her laughably rapid transformation, born from six weeks of round the clock overeating and almost no physical exertion beyond kissing and the occasional suck. Her Gods given powers had faded away to almost nothing, what was once second nature could only be reached by intense focus and held for a very short period of time. Diana hadn't tried even the slightest use of them in days out of fear they'd completely fail her. 'I"ll...I'll nnnn-eevvvver bbbbee th-th-that bbb-iiggg,' Diana tried to say through her stutter, which raged free of its bonds now that she was no longer correcting it. 'Its just a matter of time baby,' the victorious Power Girl cooed, 'although by then your tits are gonna be so huge you won't be able to see past them. I'm tiny compared to you anymore, I bet your an I cup.' Diana's stomach might have been too big for any quickly available t shirt to cover, but when the alarm had gone off she'd just been able to shove them into one of Karen's sports bras. Built to support an impossibly busty woman undergoing immense athletic strain, the kevlar reinforced garment was barely able to contain the bouncing orbs of the Amazon's bosom. Bronze tan spheres rose above and beneath the blue fabric, swelling like far too much dough poured into far too small a muffin tray. They wobbled at every strained breath, fighting against the fabirc that was trying to force them into something resembling firmness, for when unconstrained the warrior woman's breasts now sagged to depths no Amazon had ever imagined. Diana tried to speak, but found herself rising up off the floor. Power Girl had her in a tight embrace, her own hard arms and long legs wrapped around the obese form of the world's greatest heroine. 'The alarm can wait another five minutes I think,' the blonde whispered.

Thanks! It was a blast to finally finish this. I was in a bit of a hurry and forgot to add stuff like: 'You've been getting fatter faster since you started drinking me,' Karen said, observing Diana's swollen, sloshing gut. Diana had been thinnish until a month ago. Not at her old hyper defined standards but her stomach had been just soft instead of heav, her ass hadn't had a sag in it and her thighs had still had some firmness to go with their strength. But Karen had begun lactating at five months in, breasts swelling massively and painfully with milk that needed to be released lest the CEO break her bra and suffer from back aches even more than normal. It hadn't taken long for Diana to accidentally sample it while love making and discover she had a taste for it. It was helpful in many ways for Karen. If done in the morning it kept her back from hurting as much during the day, kept her from leaking all over her clothes and helped keep her weight down. The last might be thought odd for a fat fetishest knocked up with triplets, but until she could at last give birth her weight needed to stay under three hundred pounds to make things safe and easy. Her lack of discipline, the amount of food around the anonymous HQ, her ever decreasing ability to exercise and Diana's status as the dominant feeder of the relationship made that difficult, until Karen found a very mundane way to take fat off of herself and onto her fiance. 'Well, you keep making more milk,' Wonder Woman smiled, pulling her slinky dress over her head and finding the size twelve couldn't fit down to her hips thanks to her beach ball sized stomach, 'who knew Kryptonian was synonymous with cow?' 'Moo,' the CEO yawned, gently rubbing breasts that had decreased to more managable Fs and looked somewhat deflated, 'get me some ice ream though. I've gotta keep my calcium levels up.'

In the cool mountains of Korvir, Triss Merigold stood in front of a mirror. It was a place she'd long stood at miserably, seeing her increasingly plump form broaden, sag and soften every time she'd looked. Months of unending, almost maniacal consumption, had added extra fat to her every time she'd looked in the mirror. The redhead's pretty face had become puffy and jowly, swelling up until she looked like a matron in her thirties, while her thick arms, that she once kept bare and exposed, jiggled and wobbled with each motion of her clumsy fingers. Triss' once astounding chest had turned saggy, hanging low enough to rest on the pliable rolls of her stomach. The once perfectly flat belly had bulged out far enough it had started to sag down towards her thighs, which themselves had become thick as columns. Indeed, as she had soared up into the 180s the increasingly fat red head had seen an ever increasing portion of her weight go to her legs. Wide and soft, they rubbed down to the knee, giving her a humilating waddle. Triss' immense child bearing hips had gotten so big as to stick in chairs or brush door ways, when she rarely left her room, while her flabby cankles had gotten big enough she needed new boots. She'd puffed and panted as she walked, her muscles atrophying to nothing from laziness. Staying in doors all day had made her fair complexion pale to milk, while her eyes were always red from crying over her state. But now... Triss had been on a diet for two entire days without cheating. She'd eaten nothing but roasted vegetables and fish, while exercising every day. She'd gone by sweet shops and bakeries without even looking at them, confident in her will power. And it was easy, because she'd at last gotten skinny again. Triss spun in front of her mirror, wearing only negligee she'd long ago thought would never fit her again. She ran her hands up her long trim legs, restored to their athletic glory at long last. Looking at herself she flexed the muscles in her smooth, flawless abs and played with the high pink nipples of her pert breasts, that now hung high and proud. She smiled at herself, seeing the glorious woman before her. 'Who's beautiful?' she asked herself, blowing a kiss, 'You're beautiful.' What had caused this amazing transformation? Triss had at last located a magical amulet, one that restored who ever wore it to their physical peak while it was on. Within an hour of putting it on her flabby heaviness had shrank down to nothing, leaving her lean and slim once more after months of sniggers and humiliations from the Korviri nobility towards the once haughty Sorceress who'd ballooned up through sheer greed and was too incompetent to slim back down. Now that she was thin again, she was determined both to never take it off and to use it as motivation to actually slim down, so she'd be thin without the amulet. The crystal of her magnascope suddenly began chiming, indicating a request for conversation from another magic user. In general Triss had only used the verbal capabilities of the device, not wanting to reveal how heavy she'd grown, but now that she was thin again she gloried in appearing before it. Triss summoned her bra again, the silky garment perfectly cradling her big chest, and turned on the magnascope. A hazy, flickering Yennefer appeared in front of her. Her rival looked amazing as always and Triss felt a bit of shame to know she'd been twice this woman's size a few days earlier. The older sorceress looked determined and business like, but still gorgeous, in a tight black dress. She raised an eyebrow, looking the taller woman up and down. 'Having fun, I take it Triss?' Yennefer asked. 'Always, its not hard to,' Triss told her, 'what's new in your world?' 'I have a bit of an odd request for you,' the black haired mage began, 'first I'd need you to come to Touissant for a bit and then...well, this will make me sound crazy.' 'Trust me Yen, after the last months I'd say nothing sounds crazy,' the red head answered. 'Well, in that case...Triss, I need you to get fat with me.'

The Queen's power grows, pt 1 of ? 'I opened the closet door and her mouth was...,' Lillian looked around conspiratorially, and whispered 'Sosa was sucking his dick!' 'Oh, how scandalous,' Queen Regina smiled to herself, enjoying both the privacy of her chambers and the attentive gossip of her favorite pet. 'And it had cream and chocolate all over it,' the lady in waiting continued with impish glee, 'as if she wasn't getting fat enough!' 'Yes, she's gotten a bit plump hasn't she?' Regina continued with false kindness. 'A bit? Sosa's got tits like a cow and arms like a bar keep!,' Lillian giggled in glee, 'every time she breathes I hear seams pop. I think they're bigger than her head now and they sag like my mother's unless she's got a corset on. It's only a matter of time before her bodice pops open at court.' 'Some people cannot control themselves can they?' Regina said, leaning over and offering a bowl, 'candies?' Regina was leaning a little easier these days. Only one corset was needed to hide the bulge in her figure and the investment on her ladies in waiting had already almost paid itself off. In the past several weeks she'd lost a full fourteen pounds and had never been happier to see 143 lbs on the scale...especially given she could eat like a piglet with all the excess going to her ladies. Who really didn't need help gaining. 'Oh of course!' The greedy girl said, taking almost half the bowl in one heaping handful and then wolfing them down, 'wouldn't' want Sosa to take them, at the rate she's gaining...' Sosa was indeed packing it on. No exercise, a literally diabolically skilled feeder boyfriend, weight gain drugs in her wine, an unending cavalcade of food and a phantom pregnancy had buried her swords woman muscles in butter. Immense, increasingly sensitive breasts pressed dangerously against all her clothes. Her firm stomach had a noticeable paunch growing in their shadow and her graceful legs were noticeably chunky. Once impressive arms now had bingo wings that wobbled like an old woman' says she ate. Even better than the physical changes, Regina noticed that her pride and courage had deflated accordingly. She stood with a slouch, spoke increasingly softly and had trouble meeting the eye of others, letting her boyfriend do the talking and choosing. 'Oh yes, some girls come to court and lose their figures,' the Queen smiled, 'some event get ...pregnant.' Lillian Looked a bit queasy at that. As she should, given that the diminutive scholar had been the first of the ladies to get her cherry popped by an incubus' hot load. A once reliable period was three weeks late and the stress was only fueling Lillian's of control gluttony. 'Yeah...some...some girls just lose all control,' Lillian Said hesitantly. 'Yes, they take a man to bed and then their period is late,' Regina said evilly, 'then...they start throwing up in the morning.' Lillian Had awoken every morning the last week puking into a chamber pot and appropriately turned green. 'Then their breasts start to swell,' Regina said, eyeing how Lillian Was on the verge of at last breaking out of a very modest bodice, engorged nipples pressed tight against the near transparent fabric and that its button was hanging by a thread, 'and then they grow a big belly...' Lillian Relaxed a bit, 'well, I wouldn't know what that was like.' Regina smiled deeply, uncaring about the wrinkles, 'of course not, a lot of girls put on Weight at court, but not you.' Lillian Had come to court at 5' nothing and weighing exactly one hundred pounds. Out of her mother's control in the weeks since, waited on hand and foot, pampered and spoiled with thrice daily orgasms her only exercise, she'd ballooned up a little more than fifty pounds. Her delicate face was past cherubic and now almost porcine, with round, bulging red cheeks, increasingly piggish eyes and a sagging set of jowls under her chin. Tiny arms were pillowy soft, with clumsy fingers suitable only for transferring candy from bowl to mouth. No longer flat chested, her tiny breasts had gone from pert A to saggy, veiny, near painfully swollen Cs two weeks from leaking milk. Best of all her belly had gone from a tiny, barely 20'' wasp waist to a bulging, flabby 32'' pot belly when empty, which it never was save right after morning sickness. She hadn't seen her feet in a week, going by her mismatched shoes, and had no idea of the bands of angry red stretch marks around its usually turgid surface. Having long out grown her clothes, The Queen had granted the now fat girl a great deal of imperial waisted dresses, they came with the dual benefit of being highly unflattering to a girl with such a big belly and so comfortable they allowed the porky young woman to eat to her heart's content 'Yes, they're such a load of pigs!' Lillian Laughed, 'Annette tried to dance yesterday and was so out of breath she had to stop after a couple minutes, then got leg cramps and twisted her ankle when she tried again!' 'Really? That Annette?' Regina asked, as if she didn't know the 6'2 ballerina who had come to court with perfect legs. 'Yes, that Annette,' Lillian Giggled, having taken the chocolate bowl and almost emptied it, 'and she wears pants so tight though I can tell she's got cellulite now! Cellulite all over her chubby thighs and cankles! I can't believe how big she's gotten! She's the fattest girl here!''' Annette had indeed gained quite a bit of weight, almost more than anyone else and it more than made up for the atrophy of her once perfect dancer's muscle, losing in weeks what it had taken years to earn. Every pair of pants she struggled into bore chafing tears around the thighs in a matter of hours and shed burst several buttons and ripped out several ass seams thanks to her puffy FUPA and sagging behind. She was the fattest hand maid...Save for Lillian, who after a cravings and libido fueled sex romp the night before had pulled into the lead, once her overworked stomach had digested a small orchard of chocolate oranges into a new roll. ''How can she not notice?' Lillian Giggled through a full mouth, 'is she dumb?' Regina didn't tell Lillian That yes, Annette was dumb enough to think she still had a dancers physique. But so was Lillian. The wine they guzzled was laced with a special sedative that both blinded them to their own weight gain and dumbed them down significantly. The once near genius Lillian, who had passed the wizard university's initial entrance exams with flying colors a few months before, had an attention span small as her self control and would find herself only semi-literate now if she tried to read. But she'd figure that out if she remembered to take the next tests. "But I'm glad you've noticed girls have a tendency to gain weight," Regina told her portly spy, 'because my daughter is coming to court and well...Id like your help to play a little joke on her.' 'Really? I love pranks," Lillian smiled. "You see, she's always been so skinny and I think it'd be lovely if she fattened up just a bit..."

Short, maybe sweet? Y Yennefer's classes didn't go well that day. Her students had gotten use to her as a fierce, strict teacher who constantly moved through the class, harshly correcting mistakes made in spell asking and giving scant but welcome praise. Usually she arrived five minutes before class but today she came in only a minute prior to the bell, a thin layer of sweat on her body. Yen's usually tightly tailored, figure hugging and leg revealing gown had been replaced with a loose white skirt and a loose black blouse. An uncomfortable corset was squeezing her belly into an acceptable shape beneath the dress and a layer of glamour make up did its best to give her puffy face some contours. But there was no hiding that the usually svelte woman was markedly chunkier than she was the day before, nor that her energy level was lower. She was tired, distracted and snappish, barely getting through half of what she'd planned.. She sat twice as much as she did the day before and got more and more uncomfortable as the class went on, the girdle tightening rather than loosening. Inside it her stomach was beginning to churn with upset and her head began to pound, no matter how many times she fixed it with magic the pain always returned. While Yen was lecturing, Triss had gorged herself on a baker's dozen cupcakes so sugary they made her teeth hurt. As soon as they were swallowed, the red head felt so bad she sat down and cried out of guilt. The tears eventually dried and thoughts of how fluffy Yen would look made her begin to masturbate. While Triss was eating, Fringilla was knocking back wine glass after wine glass while forcing herself to eat three sticks of butter. The former made her drunk, the later made her feel awful but the thought of Yennefer taking the acid reflux and hangover on top of the calories made the Nilfgardian Mage soak through her panties. By the time class ended Yennefer looked ready to puke. Her ivory face was green tinged and her stomach churned with so much greasy richness. She portal'd to her chambers and with a finger snap made the corset fall away. The second it was no longer constrained, the sorceress' gut surged outwards, well past her bust. Yennefer collapsed onto her bed, noticing with horror that her stomach sloshed as she sat down and the bed sagged. And it was only the first day.

Because someone (>_<0_0) asked for it, here's a one shot. The Emperess' New Clothes In this, the grand Imperial court of Empress Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, there were a great many rules. There were rules for where petitioners stood, rules for how to approach the throne, rules for how to dress and how to speak and rules for how close you could stand to the Empress. The rules made sure the good governance of the great Empire of Nilfgard went smoothly and that the Empress was safe from assassins. Except for one rule, which was to keep courtiers safe from the Empress. That rule was to never, ever, under any circumstances, use a particular set of words and phrases. So important was this rule that the Empress had cast several geas' upon the Imperial palace that prevented anyone from so much as thinking them within a mile of the throne room. When first cast, by the Empress herself, it had only had a few words to it, but just a few years later it had three hundred entries and was ever growing. The Empress' maids and attendants were forever finding new work arounds to address the growing elephant in the room to her annoyance. Growing and elephant were two of the words on the list. So were "widening", "growing", "expanding", "stretching", "stuck", "girthy", "soft", "doughy", "plump", "double", "pendulous", "sagging", "matronly", "waddling", "chafing", "piggish", "sow", "hoggish", "whale", "cow", "beefy", "ballooning", "swollen", "slow", "heavy", "rotund", "spherical", "over weight", "health", "obese" and of course, "fat". To anyone who had never entered the sprawling (another banned word) Imperial palace and seen the Empress up close, it would have seemed a baffling set of words. Empress Cirilla, or Ciri as she'd often been called, was not famed for any sort of excess plushness (both banned as well) but instead for firm, athletic beauty. After all she'd been trained as a Witcher, an exterminator of monsters, in her youth, had bested both the invading Wild Hunt and the omnicidal White Frost to save the world and then seized control of the Nilfgardian Empire from her father based on her pure charisma at the age of 21. Coins struck on the date of her coronation showed the profile of a lithe beauty, with slim shoulders, a long neck and a delicate, determined face and she swiftly and personally put down a few rebellions using her blade. Empress Ciri's expansion did not start immediately, for athletic beauties lauded for their looks rarely go from fit to spherical on the turn of a dime. For two years she kept up her daily sword exercises, maintaining her firm biceps and taut stomach, until the growing time demands of centralizing the vast Nilfgardian Empire caused Ciri to decrease her sessions from seven days a week to five to three to one to none. Each decrease in practice saw a requisite decrease in muscle tone and a small increase in weight, not noticeable save for the Empress' hand maids who dressed and undressed her every day. On her 24th birthday, the ashen haired young woman had a slightly pinch-able inch atop her flawless abs and a slight bit of soft jiggle over her previously pristine biceps. She was still svelte and slim, her figure was as gorgeous as a sorceress, yet the first hints of her gain were there. Her gowns hid the gain easily...for a little bit. Ciri's active life style had accustomed her to heavy work at the dining table as well as the fencing yard. She had a taste for meat and a taste for sweets, as Empress she had an unlimited supply of both and didn't tamper her appetite. Without exercise her body began to further soften, going from perfectly slender to just slightly padded. Ciri's tummy had a little bit of a slope to it and her girlish hips began to take on a woman's width. Her gowns began to grow snug, the fabric starting to whisker across her little belly pooch and the seams on her hips starting to stretch. At first the maids ensured her gowns were let out, but the Empress kept growing until the fabric ran out fo give, resulting in an embarrassing incident where the laces of her silk and ermine gown of office could not, under any mundane circumstances be laced up and the court sorceress Keira Metz had to be summoned to get the Empress to an important religious ceremony on time by magically up-sizing the gown to accommodate the thirty extra pounds accumulated between her coronation and now. Ciri went through the ceremony red faced and embarrassed, one hand constantly feeling the soft pressure of her stomach against the enhanced dress. She'd let herself become...soft. Lazy...decadent...plump. Over the next month the Empress could swear she heard whispers at court at the state of her belly, whispers wondering if she was with child due to her new tummy and softer face...or if she'd just gotten chubby. The rumors gnawed at her, for Ciri had always been sensitive about her looks due to her beautiful step mother Yennefer but the breaking point came a week after her twenty fifth birthday. It happened during an impromptu splash fight in the deep, steaming royal tubs. Ciri's hand maids were all noble maidens chosen for their beauty and gentleness, replaced every two years when they were wed. All were now younger than the plump 25 year old Empress and all slimmer by twenty pounds at least. Ciri took in their flat tummies compared to her pinchable beer belly, their firm breasts compared to her slightly sagging ones, their slim limbs contrasted to her beefy upper arms, their svelte legs to her now just rubbing thighs. The week before and after her birthday had seen a great deal of feasting, heavy meals of sugary delicacies she'd eaten far too much of and put a fresh inch of jiggle across her hips, while leaving her svelte girl's untouched. When one maiden started a giggling splash fight, the Empress took part...but soon found herself panting and out of breath. When an innocent hand maiden asked her if she was alright or if Ciri was just too chubby for the play, something...broke inside Ciri. The Empress was a powerful magical Source, able to change the laws of reality at her will or teleport. So angry was she that she she willed the word "Chubby" away from the palace, stripping it from everyone's vocabulary. At first she was shocked but she'd been hearing it for long enough that its absence was relaxing...so she added "Plump" too. By the time of her twenty seventh birthday, a hundred and ninety Ciri was starting to feel pressure. Both from her widening hips pressing against her throne and that she should produce an heir. The Empress was still a young woman but was no longer that young, her sorceresses were offering her the Mandrake Solution to maintain her youth but the teleporting monarch knew she couldn't risk her fertility until she had a child. She was still receiving many suitors, but that owed more to her great political power rather than her now rather corpulent (another banned word) body. Ciri had a double chin now, completed with chubby cheeks. Her belly was big enough to brush her thighs, sagging when she stood. Her hips had reached 44' inches around, once taut glutes now sagging and covered in stretch marks. She walked very carefully and very slowly to hide her waddle, missing her once athletic strut and fast pace. The only positive were Ciri's now C cup breasts, an enchanted ointment spread on them every day to keep them looking firm. While the Empress worked hard for her people, managing her great empire, she also was physically quite lazy anymore and would not hear of her weight being raised. Not that anyone could actually raise them, even Keira Metz unable to tell Ciri that she was nearly obese, due to Ciri's powers. She had however, insisted that her hand maidens be picked from ...better fed girls and made sure that all the ladies of court received large portions so that she didn't stand out quite so much. Her gowns were now cut quite loose, the wide sleeves hiding her flabby arms and the imperial waist drawing attention away from her belly and hips and towards her comparatively smaller breasts. Unwilling to wed due to the damage it could do to her political standing, Ciri instead selected a paramour based upon their tastes. That she chose the King of the minor kingdom of Kovir to be the father of her child might not be surprising. Kovir after all was too small to put any political pressure upon Ciri and its nobility's tastes were known to tend towards the fatty in women. A glowing letter of recommendation from Ciri's old mentor and friend Triss Merigold didn't hurt. Triss had written extensively on both on the King's kindness and prowess and Kovir's excellent deserts, which had contributed to the redheads own greatly increased waistline. After a month spent on an official visit, Ciri teleported back to her palace. Every night had been spent in carnal passion and every day had been spent being hand fed the sweetest treats on the continent. Ciri's clothes were about to explode off of her, seams groaning as hips wider than her shoulders fought against them. A third chin had gone from possibility to reality on her face and a storm of boob fat poured over her neckline. Twenty five pounds had been added to the Empress of the known world in less than a month, but the stuffing sessions had achieved their other goal as well The Empress was soon obviously pregnant, appetite rising ever higher and her thickening ankles swelling out of her shoes. Due to her delicate condition, Ciri retired to a more private place: the villa of Corvo'Blanco, owned by her adoptive father Geralt of Rivia and his sorceress bride Yennefer. Her step mother doted on the pregnant Ciri, pampering her every moment. In her retirement, the beautiful Yennefer had turned her hand to baking, her cakes and pies being lauded across the Duchy of Tuissant even though they'd taken Yen's looks from delicate to whopping. By the time Yennefer diagnosed Ciri as bearing twins, neither woman had seen their feet in quite some time...and never would again.

A shorter chapter: The Mage's Bad Idea Bethany labored in her chambers, burning the midnight oil as she sought to regain her once slinky figure. Most of her magical powers remained to her, but the wizard was too humiliated to ever show herself again in public. Mages did not get fat, the average weight of an Imperial debutante may have trebled in the past forty years, but mages were determined to keep their figures. Excess weight was a mages worst enemy, for a flabby body implied laziness not suited to wielding the arcane. A flat belly implied self control, which thus implied magical prowess. Natural abhorrence of exercise and their sedentary life style made strict control of their diet a must, as no spell on the planet could reliably shed weight, without driving you mad or evil in the process. Various charms and enchantments could fake looking skinny, as long as no one tried feeling you or getting too close. A few sorceress's whose sweet tooths had overwhelmed common sense had tried that, getting caught when seemingly slender hips got stuck in door ways. Like many mages before her, Beth had to curse the magical black hole weight loss spells were. She'd kept herself looking twenty well into her forties and could still annihilate an army with a wave of her hand, but she was helpless against a few, hundred, extra pounds. 'Im getting slim for real,' Beth told herself, leaning back to crack her aching neck, body rebelling from looking through thick tomes of arcane lore, 'even if Rachel says I'd explode from her alchemy mixing with the magic in my blood." Ignoring her statement and soreness, she kept reading while munching on a heavy tray of fatty food she had unconsciously summoned from the aether. Since awakening a week ago, Beth's had found that, like her body, her appetite was now that of a fat girl. When she should have been dieting, the Mage was eating like a pig, not noticing a little more fat accumulating as she was so big to begin with. Beth had been rendered obese already by her strange addiction, which had thankfully passed, and the fifty pounds "donated" by her captain, with a suggestion she show caution the next time she went clubbing, hadn't helped. Her skinny 23 inch waist had more than doubled into a shapeless bulge that sprawled across her meaty thighs, broken in twain by a deep crevasse. Rail thin thighs were wobbly bags of cellulite covered fat, huge things that barely allowed her to walk. Beth's mammoth behind sprawled across her chair, raising her up a few inches on its thick layers of cellulite. A light shift of white cotton covered her torso, stretched too tight by gut and breasts to 'At least I have boobs now,' Bethany sighed as she looked down at once pert Bs, 'they're bigger than Rachel's ever were. Even when she was a fat pig, Gods I'd wish she'd blow up again. So what if they sag past my belly button...maybe I'll find a way to perk them up." For several more hours the wizards plump fingers flickered through her books, while a free hand played with her massive nipples. Finally, when her stomach was filled to capacity and her eye lids drooped, Beth saw a sight that brought a smile to her jowls. If it worked she'd be thin again by dawn, thinner than Rachel and with a bigger bust. '"Wish,' Beth mused as she read the spell, 'say the words and your greatest desire comes true, warning don't break concentration and only works once per year". If nothing else, that'll get me thinner than Rachel.' The Mage concentrated, fixing an image of herself being smaller and leaner, her legs trim and her stomach concave, with big, perky tits. Convinced she was right, she said the words and felt a flicker of static on her skin. Soon she'd be thin and Rachel would still be soft and doughy, flabby and paunchy. Maybe seeing Beth so lean and fit would send the overgrown warrior into a spiral of binging, abandoning exercise and blowing herself back up into obesity. She'd be gigantic and wobbly again, pathetic and useless, how Beth would love that. The static feeling on Beth's skin faded away and her eyes opened to see the spells handiwork. Stifling a gasp, she saw that her mammoth tits still sagged, her gut was still sprawled across her thunder thighs and her fat ass was still wedged in the chair. For a moment her jaw hung open, thinking the spell had failed. Then a few cabins away, she heard a feminine scream of shock, followed by the sound of a bed breaking. Pulling her ass with difficulty from her chair, Beth about her room, hiding any hint she'd even had an open spell book. She berated herself for carelessness and really hoped that Rachel wouldn't figure out who had just added most of the fat the amazon had shed back on.

In mid spring, Yennefer de Vengerberg shuffled through the lunch line like everyone in the academy had all winter long: Obese. The grain sacks of lard her delicate thighs had swollen into constantly rubbed against each other, while the wobbling globules of fat over her graceful ankles jiggled with each lazy step. Every halting half step in line, the tray of the girl behind her pressed into the sloppy rolls of back fat that hung off her spine or the taller woman's floppy apron belly bounced against the cellulite studded slopes of the dark haired sorceresses once flawless backside, which was now a hopelessly sloppy waterfall of an ass that had merged with her gargantuan thighs and her horribly bloated waist. Yennefer kept her own tray set in the fold of her stomachs, so her arms could have some support as she held up her tray which her heavy, heavy breasts sagged towards, pulled down against her shoulders by gravity. The stolen muscle amulet was keeping the effects of the worst of her obesity off of her, but that didn't mean she was any sort of athlete. Yennefer could shuffle along for a bit with out getting completely out of breath, a pathetic feat compared to a year ago but now the obese woman's hurried waddle was the fastest in the building. Another month of imprisoned force feeding had turned the piggish students into blobby hulks of lard, each topping three hundred pounds of chunk. Each obscenely stuffed beauty did nothing but gorge on magically made goodies all day as their weights surged towards a golem mandated 500 pounds, bright eyes had turned glazed and listless, their wits deserting them out of self preservation as only misery and obesity awaited. Only the presence of food in the cafeteria was able to shift the fat wrapped young women from their beds, to fight against the growing burden of their bodies to shove yet more food into their mouths and add to their captivity. There was a horrible metaphor for human existence there, but Yen was focused more upon the shovel sized ladle of ice cream plopping onto her plate sized slab of peach cobbler. All of it, from creamy top to piping hot bottom was a mess of sugar, transfats and empty calories, with the only real nutritional value in the ice cream's calcium and a few vitamins the peaches' caramelizing hadn't destroyed. Yennefer's stomach still groaned for it all, obese body demanding more fat be added to its burden and the dark haired sorceress salivated at how embarrassing that was. Here she was, a prisoner quivering at the thought of more chains being added to her cage as she waddled to the serving station. 'No chocolate?' the violet eyed enchantress asked her server. 'No, there's no damn chocolate,' Fringilla snarled, the facial motion making her bulging, red apple cheeks wobble and her chins flap. The once seductive Nilfgardian was thrice the woman she used to be. Between her bloated face, piggish eyes and a new propensity to breath through her mouth she looked crude and moronic, nothing like the elegant, sophisticated woman she'd been, even her delicate skinny looking blotchy and red under the effects of her horrifically unhealthy diet. Fringilla's gorgeous figure was now a double pyramid of rolls, two pyramids atop each other with the shared base being the wagon wheel circumference of her gut, a flesh apron that whacked against her complaining knees when she walked. 'Why not? Did you eat it all?' Yennefer asked as she waddled past, smiling at getting the dig in. It was cheap and petty of her, but then again Fringilla's idiocy had doomed all of them. Their bright future for magic was a fatty apocalypse, a generation of sorceresses fed into barely mobile hulks of flesh with slack jaws and dead eyes. Their professors weren't any better, each of them bar Yen nearing four hundred pounds of engorged, heavily punished flab. Yen plopped her wide, sagging buns down on the stone bench next to Triss, shuffling slightly to get her girthy hips slotted under the porcine red head's floppy love handles. The piggish fire mage grunted at being disturbed: she was so intent on shoving cobbler and ice cream into her mouth that any distraction would make her furious. Not that she could do anything about it, six more weeks frosting cakes had, along with taking the butter treatment at least once a day, added another hundred pounds to Triss's already corpulent figure. A pillowy gut rolled out to her knees, dipping down between her relatively thin legs while vaunted breasts sagged down as a humiliating after thought. Her treacherous friend's weak arms trembled as they tired hauling food into her mouth, so bereft of muscle the heavy spoon was a struggle. Of her fellow sorceresses, Triss by far looked the best despite four hundred pounds being in sight. There was a smile at the corners of her lips for the red head was somehow living her perverted dream of being surrounded by heavy set, gluttonous sorceresses eating themselves into obesity around the clock. Every thing she'd wanted was hers, bar magical powr or freedom, and the obscene red head volunteered to go to the butter cure each punishment cycle, helping explain her rapidly escalating obesity besides the school kitchens. Yennefer wanted to hate her old friend, for adding so much extra weight to her, for betraying her...but in a strange way she empathized. Just as her own libido rejoiced at every humiliation brought by her size so did Triss exult in fattening herself up. And it was good to see someone happy. The top heavy Margarita flopped down looking like a confused dairy cow, immense knockers somewhere in the J range and bouncing around her belly button due to a total lack of bra. Her shapeless dress was stretched tight over her now full on fat body, beefy hips and thick waist hiding any hope that her bust could some how improve her looks if anyone found enough fabric and an industrial crane to haul her tits back up. Only the small amount of strength in her wobbling, lunch lady arms hinted at the amount of churning she did all day, the peerless academic reduction to mediocre kitchen servant had sent her self confidence into the depths of depression and her green eyes were dull with fatigue. Yennefer knew she'd given up hope, having not spoken in days and now sought pleasure in the only solace left to her: food. She ate like a machine, dour and soulless, just shoveling food in for one spark of sensation. She barely even reacted to getting the butter cure as a punishment for her slackening work schedule. Keira waddled up not long after, the medical genius not needing her own skills to diagnose rising blood pressure and over exhaustion in herself as her pear physique kept hitting people on the very long walk to the table. Dark bags of tiredness were under her eyes, the punishing shifts at the alchemy bay spent brewing enough potions to keep the unhealthily full student body in the same continent as healthy combined with the immense caloric goals their stony jailers had set meaning she barely slept at all. Forget rapid research due to a comfy ass, the pale blonde was so overworked she hadn't had a chance to do not but eat, work, eat and sleep for months now! Pale blue eyes were puffy, red and blood shot, while her delicate body had blown back up into a 350 lb pear with thighs so thick they couldn't cross and hips so wide she spent most of the day trapped in her chair's arms. She at least wasn't despondent, she was just pissed and scared. 'We can't keep this up much longer, I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel in terms of the medical potions,' Keira whined, digging into her cobbler and ice cream with hateful determination, 'we'll be out in the morning and by next week we'll be looking at a full blown epidemic of gout, diabetes, knee pain and high blood pressure.' 'Out this time...you said that we'd have another month!' Yennefer hissed, hastily drinking her own. 'Well, it needs a certain dosage per pound to work and I didn't count on them fattening us up so well!' Keira whispered back angrily, eating more desert, 'their food is so rich we're all turning into hogs.' Even Yennefer, who'd been doing a little better than maintaining was suddenly blimping right back up under the deluge of deserts pouring from the kitchens. A fourth chin was demanding that room be made for it and her thigh fat was demanding to fuse with her cankles by swallowing up her knees. The ex-sex kitten was still fifty pounds thinner than Triss, but the new fat was making it harder and harder to formulate her own plan. 'Oh Gods, its so good...,' Triss groaned, finishing off her desert and rubbing her sagging apron gut, 'what did you say Keira?' 'See!' Keira hissed in between spoonfuls, 'we won't last another week...' Gasping and wheezing, Fringilla waddled to the table so exhausted by her shift as a lunch lady that she could barely eat. She still ate of course, but just slower. 'Don't worry, I've gotten almost all of the totems placed around the school in the last few months,' Yennefer told them, 'one more and we'll be set.' 'You *gasp* said that would only take a week...,' Fringilla whined, shoveling melted ice cream and cobbler into her sloppy mouth. 'Well, I was wrong alright?' Yen admitted testily, "I'm not exactly light on my feet here.' The golems guarding them all were not particuarly bright, slightly sadistic and with marked feeder tendencies but not bright. However Yennefer wasn't exactly stealthy or quick, more like loud and slow. Her waddling step and fast beating heart was easy to hear and it was only her easy ability to lie and the seeming good grace she'd earned from not broad casting calories in the previous year that let her escape the few times she'd been caught without the stones being found, usually they were hidden somewhere high up. The very thought of how humiliatingly pathetic she was sent a sexual thrill through Yennefer, that she could barely navigate her own school was something she masturbated over with increasing joy and difficulty. But slowly, over weeks and weeks and weeks she'd gotten all but one stone placed. 'I just need to put the key stone in and activate it,' Yennefer smiled triumphantly. 'Where does it need to be placed?" Keira asked after a golem guard went by, a graven image of a slim, vain sorceress. 'Atop the bell tower,' Yennefer admitted grimly, 'after I free it from its holding place...' The bell tower was hundreds of stairs up, annoying when thin. Dangerous at Yennefer's size. 'Can you teleport up there?' Fringilla asked her. 'I don't have enough magic left,' yennefer admitted, 'just enough to get and then activate the key stone.' She'd had to turn invisible a few times to hide from the golem guards in her sojourns and it took far more magical power than before, giving how much Yennefer there was to hide. All that remained of her terrible magical power was enough spark to knock one small stone off a plinth and activate it. The fear and terror of it sent pleasurable shivers down her back. 'So, I"ll need a distraction...the butter cure,' Yennefer told them. 'I know, I know its my turn tonight,' Keira groaned, getting ready to throw away her food uneaten. 'No, I need it to be all of you,' Yennefer said, 'its the only way I'll have enough time to activate the stone is if you all get force fed.' 'But how are we gonna do that?' Triss asked, speaking up, 'I ate all my food...everyone but Kiera has...' And Keira hadn't left much behind. Each of the beauties was well acclimated to obesity now, eating past sanity and holding nothing back. 'That's my point exactly,' Yennefer smiled, standing up with the help of her hands. She waddled over to the nearest golem, pointing at her friends, 'They ate all of my food.' A sour expression went over the golem's pretty face and it stomped towards the professor's table as Yennefer waddled away stealthily.

"Countess de'Colletege, how was that barbaric little rite?" The Marquess Mona asked, "I hope we didn't impose too much on you..." "Hmmmmm," Connie hummed, mouth salivating as she munched down on a delicious huckleberry pie with a mountainous dollop of whipped cream. The diplomats brain was in automatic mode, occupied totally by the food in her mouth and the hand under her skirt. Since the ritual Connie had been obsessed with sex and eating, unless she'd just orgasmed or eaten, her brain drifted and slid away from any other topic. Partly she hopped the effect could fade... But on the other hand she was enjoying this pie and the attention of the Knight best to her. Sir Markus Von Fatrov, the Margravines handsome son and heir, was chiseled like a statue, wearing a tight uniform and had four fingers up Connie's sopping wet slit and a nimble thumb on her clit. "Markus, if you'd let me have the Countess' attention for a moment," Mona chuckled, "you'll have her all to yourself later." The handsome Knight smiled and slid his hand away from Connie's sex. It took Connie a minute for her brain to turn back on, but when it did, she couldn't help but notice how fat Mona looked. On meeting her, Connie had estimated the Margravine as a quarter tonner with plenty of toppings but the strangely youthful brunette looked positively swollen with dough, having found Connie's entire body weight in fat within a couple days. Her chins had completely swallowed her neck, jowls sliding down to touch her water melon sized and shaped bosom. The seams of her imperial waisted gown were straining, milky far mushrooming beneath the laces. She was perhaps the biggest human woman Connie had ever seen, and she'd seen a lot, but had waddled to the dinner table with a minimum of fuss, although her dining couch groaned beneath her. "Oh, I'm so sorry, pregnancy brain gets to me a lot recently" Connie smiled, "hoping it goes away once I deliver..." "No harm, no foul," Mona smiled, deep dimples forming, "but I just hope you weren't too miserable during that barbaric rite! To think, subjecting a woman of your stature and status to being gang banged by peasants!" "Oh it was no problem at all. They were most gentle and really I needed the exercise," Connie admitted, "it might be hard to tell but not so long ago I was quite fit and athletic! My husband likes curves in me, and I like them too, but at this rate I'll be too big to fit through the manor door by the time I'm due!" Mona laughed, "I know what you mean. Once you could have counted the muscles on my belly! Then I got older and had a few kinder, there next thing you know I'm the fattest woman at court, a laughing stock who's too big to ride a horse! No more adventures for me, just having more b**s and getting fatter, fatter, and fatter! And aging ugh, why I was around your age when I had my first and by the end of his first year I looked 45!" "I'm, I'm sure you looked fine..." Connie tried to say. "Not at all! My breasts had swelled up just like yours are, big plump melons I was so proud of. But by the time I was done nursing I had two sagging sacks for breasts. They pointed straight down!" Mona said, "to say nothing of how flabby my belly was!" Connie squirmed a bit. So far she'd had an easy pregnancy, little vomiting and had mostly just overeaten and felt horny. She'd only focused on losing all this belly and thigh fat, the thought of going droopy... "But I now notice, that you are a most plush and full woman,"Connie said,"quite full to bursting almost and seeming young as me... If A little bit rounder..." The Margravine laughed, a great chuckle that sent tsunamis of fat rippling and seams popping, "usually I'm just a bit robust, but it is the seventh year is it not? For six years we feast and feast, each meal not touching our lovely young bodies but going to a sacrifice." "That sounds rather ...tempting, if a bit unusual," Connie said diplomatically, "but as long as no one is hurt..." "Oh they're not hurt much. Not too much...They just take on our weak knees and clogged arteries, our bad backs and pained breathing. Then in the seventh year we bloat and bloat with a final payment..." The Margravine laughed, "tell me, would you like back your youthful body? Would you like to run and leap again? To never fear the sag of your bosom? To be a chosen of gro'fat? To give him your soul?" "Id rather, well you see, the family is rather relaxed religiously by nature," the diplomat said nervously, swallowing more pie with a gulp, "I'd rather my soul stay on its own..." Connie realized that the Margravine was looming over her, the immensely day woman an intimidating mountain. Nor was the handsome young man quite so reassuring. And she could feel every skipped work out in her muscles laxity, feel every just one more snack and every tiny treat turned to lard on her massive bosom, heavy set thighs and lap filling tummy weighing her down... "In that case, Countess," the Margravine grinned, "how about if you will not serve gro'fat, how about we serve you to gro'fat....Guards!" Take her to the feeder machine...: Connie is hooked up to a massive collection of hoses, pumps and tanks of bubbling cream... That are soon pumping cream into her by the gallon! Roll 2d20s for weight, roll CONSTITUTION to halve the gain! Let me introduce you to the Von Vamps...: Connie becomes the plaything of the Von Vamps twins, Carmella and Ludmilla! A feat of derring do!: Connie might look like a cream puff and might be shiver at the sight of stairs, but that doesn't mean she's not still a bad ass! Connie grabs a sword and tries to escape! Roll ATHLETICS!

Pinned to the ground by Zaiva's increasingly heavy weight, Aurelia's first instinct would have been to fight back. That would have been rather dangerous. She had not the strength of her older days, but the Dhampire could still rend steel with her claws. Unfortunately for her, she was a vampire at heart and her first instinct was to suck. Having breasts bigger than herself pressing into her face, sloshing with warm milk, paralyzed her with their heavenly softness and throbbing heat...which only made things worse. "See how you like this, you leech!" Zaiva hissed, "You want big Moooootttteeersss, I'll show you big!" Zaiva might not be able to stand up anymore, but the plumping assassin was still quite deft handed. She got a nipple into Aurelia's mouth before the dhampire could bite or claw, the little red head's instincts taking over as she suckled her attacker. The milk was hypnotically good. Rich as sin, warm as a mother's love, sweet as honey. Aurelia guzzled as quickly as she could, eyes rolling in the back of her head with pleasure as the impossible flavor overcame her terror at her doomed situation. Her own heavy bosom had bore about a meal's worth of milk per tit, but the much taller and robust drow had fully completed her transformation! Aurelia was going to be hit with an overwhelming tidal wave of calories that she was willingly drinking down, even moaning for more when the right breast ran out to her shame! Thanks to her earlier foolish consumption of the cursed, rapid digestion coffee, her body soaked the calories up like a sponge, multiplying the deluge. Aurelia felt her then slender thighs swell up and smack together as her legs thickened up, felt her stomach swell around her too tight belt as her waist got plump, felt her sleeves tight around her arms, her cheeks burned as her face puffed up and then last of all, her sagging breasts partly refill and bulge out wards in another burst of growth. From busty and slender, the noble dhampire now appeared somewhat chubby and plump, possessed of a thickening waist and heavy looking, sagging breasts, swelling out back to their original maximum size, if not as pert. With the flood of calories the remaining hucow girl potion effects kicked in as well. She was spared the humiliation of hooves and ears, but long horns burst from her hair and a flickering tail erupted from her lower back. Aurelia has gained 16lbs, up to 150lbs or 26 2/5 fat points! Passes first con save to avoid physical fat feat, fails 2nd to take a mental fat feat! Guilty conscious! Stat changes: Charisma from 91 ->93 for going from 23 to 24 fp, then from 93 ->96 among normies. Has hit 100 among fat fetishists already. Athletics going from 80 at 24 to 72. "Never try and poison a drow, dhampire," Zhaiva huffed, angry and somewhat aroused a she forced herself up, "look at you now, fat!" The assassin was much reduced, her chest merely the size of a watermelon per breast now, and clearly rather aroused by the nursing given the blush on her cheeks. That allowed her to get up, despite the handicap of her new hooves and look at Aurelia, who was herself struggling to get up. Fabric strained, ripping a bit as the Dhampire fought against the jiggle of her swaying chest and the skin tight pinch of her belt. "Gods no, I'm ruined! Ruined!" the dhampire nearly screamed, red eyes huge in terror and anger as she took herself in a mirror. Her slender cheeks were cherubically plump, matching her cute little double chin. H cup breasts were heavy and low, the exposed nipples pointed downwards, cream already starting to leak from them and their weight painful to her back. Her waspish waist was gone, filled in favor of a pinchable tummy, its love handles pouring out the bursting side laces of her dress and its muffin top hanging atop her gold chain belt. Her long skirt was tearing off due to her increased, rather matronly hips, showing off her thick, lazy looking thighs. To say nothing of her bovine horns and flicking tail! "You look like a bride who couldn't wait for her wedding night and showed up to the altar showing," Zaiva hissed, pinching the vampire's gut cruelly, "so let's mooo-ake it official! From blood countess to mooo-ilf countess!" Aurelia turned to run, but her body was much weaker now and she couldn't avoid getting the last and most dangerous potion poured down her throat. Instantly the bright pink liquid started to take effect. Aurelia's chubby cute face swelled outwards into a moon that obliterated her features, making her look older than her '20' years and a bit lazy and dim. The redhead's hips expanded wildly outwards, shredding the rest of her skirt, which fell to her feet. Pain shot through her body as her feet swelled into her pumps, thickening ankles popping the straps. An already plump tummy shot forwards into a heavily rounded gut, distended into a late term pregnancy, that destroyed what was left of her dress. Already swollen breasts lurched haphazardly forwards into an immense mismatched pair of saggers, a J and an N respectively, so big they threatened to pull the small framed and now quite weak woman over onto her face! She barely kept her balance, but her back was screaming at her, tears popping into her red eyes. "Oh no, oh no, oh gods no! I'm...I'm...," Aurelia gulped, stammering to see every trace of her delicate beauty be buried under flab or swelling as she waddled towards the mirror. For a being used to moving at speed, with the grace of an immortal predator, the short walk was torturous. Her breathing was strained, the horribly out of shape girl sore and sloshing from all the milk she'd guzzled down. Her heavy belly and immense breasts pulled her forwards, straining her back, and her ankles screamed at carrying an extra eighty five pounds over her normal weight, her undead strength having deserted her in moments. Aurelia has gained 40 lbs, hitting 190, and 8 fat points, hitting 34, obese. Trait changes: Cha= from 96 ->100 and then from 100 down to 76 among normies. Athletics from 72 down to 56 and then to 24! Fat feats: LAZY BONES: the PC is demoralized by stitches in her side, sweatiness and shortness of breath and will do anything to avoid them. -5 to all ATHLETICs check. STRESS EATER: the PC deals with failure by over eating. Any day they fail a roll, they will attempt to overeat. WILLPOWER check negates that day. POOR HEALTH: Rolls disadvantage on athletics! WEAK WIND -5 to athletics! Athletics at 14! "You're a mooo-ther I'd like to fuck," Zaiva smiled, looking over the engorged dhampire, "now, let's get moooo-ving upstairs, if you can keep up, little mooother."

Chapter 5.3 Hubris On tip toe and with lasso wrapped on her arm, Diana crept through the deserted Amazonian city. A strange sense of subtle wrongness crept into her mind, even beyond the absent inhabitants it was odd. Of course this was because it was an illusion, she didn't know this but the Amazon's instincts were heightened nonetheless. Every muscle was coiled to spring and her senses were listening for ambush, ignoring the rub of her thighs and the feeling of her unrestrained paunch brimming over the top of her underwear with each step. Behind the heavily overweight warrior princess was Circe. Invisible to her target, the witch had passed through the wall as if it was made of air and her beach chair rolled after Diana, giving Circe a perfect glimpse of Diana's cottage cheese coated gluteus Maximus as she walked into the trap filled town. With every step the fat cheeks jiggled and wobbled, straining against the black fabric of her brief cut panties. 'You dress like an old woman Diana,' the witch said, slurping another pina colada, 'let's give you a more flattering cut for a girl your size.' With a wave of a hand, Diana's black panties shrank, exposing more and more of her pudgy ass as they turned into a Lacey black thong that was two sizes too small. After a few more steps Wonder Woman had to pause and tug a thumb under the hip band of the overburdened lingerie. In the back it was giving her a horrible wedgie, while in front several inches of flabby FUPA now sagged freely without even the slightest support and the mis-sized negligee pressed tight against her plump privates. Her self confidence plummeted as she tried to solve the insolvable problem, there was too much fat Amazon and too little fabric. Wherever her fingers pressed they found soft, yielding adipose, particularly in her stomach which hung down over the front of her thong. Worse, every attempt to earn more slack tugged tighter somewhere else and for a second Diana's face flushed as she brushed against the eager button of her clit. She shivered, a wave of pure pleasure rippled through her. 'Not the time Diana,' she grunted, pulling her hand away in shame, 'control yourself in some manner.' Wonder Woman walked on, her pace slower. She was breathing more heavily now and sweat had formed again on her body, the shame of touching herself coupled with the reminder of her obesity making every pound weigh heavier. 'Ohh, shame and lack of self control got you down?' Circe laughed to see Diana's power falter, 'Let's see how you handle my first little trap!' In front of her, Diana paused at a crossroads. The raven haired beauty sniffed repeatedly, a strangely familiar aroma catching her nose. Her mouth watered and her tongue licked her lips, even while her flabby belly gurgled in demand. 'Chocolate...hmmm...melting chocolate,' Diana said, lifting slightly off the ground and hovering after the smell, her super powers making her seem a cartoon. 'Good little piggy,' Circe giggled, refilling her drink and sitting up, her own full stomach sloshing with liquor. Wonder Woman came to at the door of a house. She wiped drool off her lips, realizing she'd just walked into the house almost totally unprepared. Another wave of shame and self hate rippled through her, that she'd followed her gut literally instead of thinking. Suddenly it was much harder to levitate, her power of flight nearly vanishing and she settled heavily on the ground. 'Is my will so weak? That I will abandon myself with out a thought?' She chided herself, grabbing hold of a doughy fist full of heavy gut, 'but cooking food must mean someone to cook it. I will find the answer yet.' Raising up a leg, the under roll of her gut brushing against it, Diana kicked in the door. Her leg didnt' go as high up as it had a few months before and although weaker in comparison she was still several hundred times stronger than a normal woman. The door shattered and she sprang through like an avenging angel, fists raised and ready to deliver punches able to puncture steel armor, as strong and dangerous as she'd ever been and not slowed an iota by her layers of pillowy flab. An incredibly dangerous enemy awaited her inside the house: a two gallon caldron of bronze, filled with bubbling white chocolate. Allied to it was a small army of strawberries and a veritable horde of marshmallows. Fondue, now Diana's greatest weakness. For a moment, Diana stood, torn in her desires. She had to find her sisters, the mere existence of this snack food meant that they had to have vanished not long ago. She should go look for them, they couldn't be far. 'I'm so hungry... And I can't resist...,' Diana said out loud, surprising herself, 'It's been hours since I've eaten. I'm a tubby pig with no self control!' Alarmed that she'd said that out loud, Diana looked down, seeing her lasso had gotten itself wrapped around her arm. She was speaking purely from her Id, unable to dissimilate or to lie to herself. The strangeness of the situation seemed suddenly obvious to her, Themyscira wouldn't be abandoned, the streets would run red with blood before the Amazons gave her up. And chocolate was unknown to the island, how could it be here? Diana looked around, confusion rippling through her. What was she doing here? What was she wearing? Why was she so fat? 'Oh no you don't dare break free!' Circe hissed from outside, just a tad drunk and with a wave of her finger made a huge bubble of chocolate appear at the top of the caldron. Wonder Woman froze, abandoning her line of thought. Her gut groaned, her increasingly hefty, flabby stomach demanding sacrifices like an angry goddess. She'd given into it for weeks now, losing any ability to even hesitate in feeding it. More and more of her thoughts had gone into tending its endless needs as it went from a muscular plateau to a soft plane to a plump bulge to a soft apron of fat. 'Give in!,' Circe snarled, 'Give in!' Diana walked forwards, her legs going on their own accord from the demands of her pampered gut. At first she pretended decorum, dipping in a strawberry and then biting it off just below the leafs. The sweet sour fruit and the dark chocolate made her whole body tingle with a sexual thrill, one she didn't let end as two, three, four, five more strawberries followed the first. 'Gods of Olympus I'm in Elysium,' Wonder Woman groaned, feeling herself glow with joy with each bite, 'I just want to eat...Aphrodite it feels so good!' After the sixth she lost every sign of decorum. Diana shoved handfuls of marshmallows into the caldron, devouring whole handfuls. She moaned joyfully, feeling her muscles tremble, and kept eating mouthful after mouthful. Already heavy, her fully belly swelled out, pulling the panties even tighter, her shirt riding up into a bra. Within a heartbeat she was eating one handed, the other pinching and fondling herself, nearer orgasm now than she'd been in weeks. Desire for food and climax warred, Goddess but she could use more hands! She hadn't gone either way when the marshmallows were gone, but half the white chocolate remained. Diana shoved one hand between her legs and grabbed the outer edge of the caldron in the other. She hefted it up and poured it down her throat, lapping it up even as some spilled on her face. Climax came eighty percent of the way through and she collapsed, falling into a chair and letting the fondue pot hit the ground. Tides of pleasure rolled through her body, her brain blanking at the release. 'There's my fatty!' Circe laughed, 'You're broken like a reed! I should have started feeding you years ago! Let's rub it in, something that'll send you so far down in shame your powers will break forever!' A full length mirror appeared opposite Diana. It showed her a heavily overweight woman, most of her weight concentrated in a swollen double belly, the lowest half of which hung like an apron between flabby thighs to touch the floor over her thong. Her belly button was a deep hole flanked by red stretch marks and her love handles hung over hips. No muscle showed anywhere on her body, her flabby legs had a coat of cottage cheese and not a hint of strength. Her diamond cut biceps had deflated almost to nothing while her triceps were half way to bingo wing status. At some point her bra had vanished, heavy breasts sagged against the chocolate stained, over tight fabric, her wider nipples visible. A round face was flushed red and smeared with chocolate, a ring of whiteness around her panting open mouth, further drying fondue smeared over her curly hair. Circe grinned, feeling her rivals power fall like a rock in water. Part of her worried that she had pushed it too far, Diana might be fully depowered and she needed the Amazon merely hampered for public shaming. Still, the sight of the perfect Amazon princess being reduced to near naked slob filled her with joy equal to Diana's orgasm. "Oh I wish I had a camera or better yet film," Circe giggled, "Putting you eating yourself sick on YouTube...ha, it'd break the mortals Internet." Circe gave an immense chuckle, her pina colada swollen belly bouncing as the laugh trailed into drunken giggling. She snorted, nearly hurling up the multiple drinks she'd sucked down over the afternoon and had to swallow. Looking up, she realized Diana's icy blue eyes were boring into her from inside the house. "I've eaten like a pig today, been humiliated at every turn and reminded with each step how decrepit I've become,"Diana said out loud, "but it was only when I lassoed myself that I realized I wasn't even on Themiscyra. Then I knew that someone was watching with me and that it had to be you." The witch paled, fear gripping her, burning away her drunken haze. Wonder Woman stood up, gut sagging, smeared with chocolate but with eyes blazing. Circe swallowed, squirming back in her as Diana wrapped her magical rope around her own arm. Apart from her height the Amazon had the body of a fatter than normal office worker instead of her once mighty warrior frame, but she'd never looked more frightening. "Circe," Diana ordered as she drew her sword. The witch gulped, scrambling to rise. "Run."

Pt one of two getting Power girl to Vegas. There's some slob and health stuff too...darker than I'd planned, but I promise a happy ending. Power Girl soared: powerful, invulnerable and triumphant over a field of wrecked alien war machines destroyed with the blasts of her heat vision and the impact of her fists. Over six feet of tan shapely legs and hard muscular curves, the Kryptonian beauty hung serenely over the scene of mechanized carnage, shredded biceps crossed over her head sized, impossibly perky breasts and a confident smile on her face as her blue eyes scanned for any surviving enemies. Hers was an inborn perfection, a combination of steely muscle and luscious curves almost no one on her adopted planet could ever match, an enviable glory Kara Zor-el accepted as her birth right alongside the physical powers of a goddess. She was sure of herself, bold and brave as only one who was near invincible could be. Strong enough to move mountains, resilient enough to resist an atomic blast, faster than a speeding bullet. The number of genuine threats to her could be counted on one hand. Under the yellow glow of Sol, age, illness and weakness would never touch her. Power girl could look forwards to an eternity of power, pride and perfection and nothing could change that. As she cast her super vision over the city, she caught site of tabloids, fitness magazines and men's magazines, happy with the headlines: "Power Figure! 10 Exercises to get Power Girl's body!" "Power Girl, did her tits get bigger?" "Karen Starr, most successful (and hottest) entrepreneur under 30." The superheroine noticed, on her blue glove, a strange looking bracelet, a Fitbit made out of titanium. It lit up as she hovered and blared with the Strength of a fog horn: "ATTENTION: SUBJECT MORBIDLY OBESE! WEIGHT: 296 LBS. HEIGHT: 5'5. BMI: 49.5. DANGER! BLOOD PRESSURE AT ELEVATED LEVELS! DANGER! CHOLESTEROL LEVELS AT ELEVATED LEVELS! DANGER! SUBJECT ENTERING EARLY STAGE OF HYPER TENSION! DANGER! BLOOD SUGAR LEVELS UNSTABLE! SUBJECT IS PRE-DIABETIC! BEGIN DRASTIC DIET AND EXERCISE OR HEALTH PROBLEMS WILL BE PERMANENT!" 'What?' Power Girl asked, only to find herself suddenly falling to earth. She let out a scream of panic and felt her body swell, her trademark costume shredding as her muscles were buried beneath a rising flood of adipose. Faster she fell and fatter she grew, chins multiplying and hips widening until she slammed into the ground, sitting up from the super powered dream to her current powerless nightmare of reality. Karen Starr sprawled: weak, pitiful and supine over a kitchen floor of emptied ice cream containers devoured by her tireless jaw and bottomless appetite. Less than five and a half feet of pale flab and corpulent lard, the depowered blob lay groaning in mild agony amidst the scene of dairy product carnage, bingo wing arms spread eagled on the floor while her floppy, over sized dugs sagged to the side. The only hard thing on her body, her swollen stomach let out a painful groan that suggested a few gallons of ice cream, three containers of whipped cream, 64 oz of chocolate sauce and 32 oz of straw berry topping had been a bad idea to consume. The small forest of emptied beer cans hadn't been a good idea either, given the hung over pounding in her head, but the booze dulled her constant fear. She'd never been a drinker before, she'd been immune to it after all, but with that immunity stripped Karen was trying to force her bulk into a bottle just to rid herself of anxiety. 'It's not like I could stop myself,' the depowered Kryptonian muttered, beginning the difficult process of pushing herself up off the floor and missing the ability to float, 'I can't even stop eating anymore.' Everything on her immense, yet shrunken frame hurt. Party it was from the punishingly painful minutes of light exercise a few days ago when her powers had given out, her stiff, withered muscles still complaining from the exceedingly minor demands placed upon them. The rest of it was just the sheer annoyance of existing at this weight, of joints overloaded with the dead weight of well over a hundred and fifty pounds of fat, of not being able to fully catch her breath due to the sagging constriction of her own lard or being so out of shape she panting and sweaty just from going up the stairs. Pain behind her eyes from the hang over, a new constant for the past few days, didn't help. After a few tries of rolling over, the near three hundred pound heroine managed to stand up, knees and lower back protesting in pain as she did. Karen looked down at the messy, sagging surface of her chest and stomach, bulging and heavy rolls that she knew were covered in stretch marks underneath the layer of melted ice cream and chocolate sauce and could barely remember when they'd been tan, firm and glorious. If not for the simultaneously too small and too big outfit at the back of her closet of outgrown clothes, the kryptonian would have thought that time was a dream. Waddling through her kitchen, Karen tried to weave to avoid the greasy piles of pizza boxes, take out containers, ice cream tubs, liquor and soda bottles. She utterly failed, knocking them over with swollen ankles and wobbling hips every few steps. There were a lot of them, but the obese woman was expanding so fast she had little idea of where her increasingly pear shaped bulk ended. Once impossibly graceful, Karen was punishingly clumsy and near tripped several times, only saving herself from going over by keeping a hand on the rim of her kitchen island. The entire house being dark didn't help either. All of Karen's curtains were drawn tight, letting in only a little light and she could no longer see in the dark. She'd vowed to sun tan until she was depowered, but the pure fear she'd gotten from driving a few miles at half the speed limit had made the once brave woman cower in doors. Her first panic attack had come when the postal worker shoved some envelopes through the slot and many had followed since. The idea of being seen like this was humiliating, but the idea that someone might try to enter the house sent her already strained heart thudding faster. When getting up was a chore, you knew you were completely defenseless. Thinking of the glee the many enemies Power girl had made finding her helpless state made Karen start to pant. 'Feeling nervous? You know eating will tamp that down...,' the fridge magnet oinked at her as she passed it. Automatically, Karen opened the fridge, finding it full as ever with her favorite goodies. She grabbed a box of donuts, each a heavy square of pastry and delicious icing stuffed with custard, and a liter of Mountain Dew to wash it down. Both were heavy enough for her weak arms, that the once mighty heroine had to shove her face into the box and munch with animalistic glee. 'There you go piggy, eat those panic attacks away. I'll always be here for you with a new snack,' the magnet promised. The sugary frosting hurt her teeth and her full stomach grumbled as more food was swallowed down but Karen ate it anyway. Her fear faded as the comforting fullness hit her and the sugary caffeine gave her a small amount of energy to waddle to the bathroom. 'Appreciated,' Karen grunted, dropping box and bottle with out ceremony. 'Gotta watch out for ya,' the cursed fridge magnet giggled, 'you know I'll always be there for you!' 'Yeah..., I know,' the once strong willed heroine sighed, rubbing her almost painfully full gut. 'It's not like anyone else would want you, you can't fly, you can't fight, you can't do anything but eat anymore,' it went on, 'but no matter how weak you are, how fat you get, how high your blood pressure rises or how much garbage fills your house, I'll always love you. Your my flabby, repulsive little retired heroine and you'll always find what you need in me!' Once she'd disliked the mockery of the possessed fridge, but ever since losing her powers she'd started finding the back handed acceptance in its words a small comfort even as it undermined her confidence further. Karen did nothing but nod along, not even arguing. The thing not only provided food, but was her only social outlet as well, given that she was too anxious even to use social media. What if she saw an old photo of herself....Or worse, what if someone wanted to see her? 'How about a snack for the road?' The magnet chimed as Karen's heart thudded again, 'it's a long walk to the shower my little sow and it's been a few days since your last one. I can put up with a lot, but the spilled ice cream on you is starting to smell. And you need a pick me up! I've got your favorite extra long foot long! And a Beer!' 'but it's only...ten in the morning,' Karen faintly protested, having to squint to see the green letters on the stove, 'isn't that early?' 'Why? You gonna drive somewhere? With all that traffic? And all those cars on the road that might hit you?' The magnet countered, sending a jolt of fear going through the obese woman's quivering bulk, 'No, stay here safe and sound...' Faint argument defeated, Karen opened the fridge with a tug, having to put her shoulder into it given the atrophied state of her muscles. She grabbed the foil wrapped foot long and a 16 oz can of beer, then paused. One corner of the junk food filled fridge was filled with rows of pill bottles and small syringes. 'What are these for?' Karen asked hesitantly. 'Your medicine silly! Your diabetes is scheduled to kick in on Monday, but given how you eat it might start any minute. And you might as well start the blood pressure and cholesterol pills now!" The magnet said happily, "you're never going to be healthy or happy again, but I want you around for a long time!" The forcibly retired CEO started backwards, her beach ball ass cheeks toppling one tower of emptied food containers. A chain reaction of pizza boxes, plastic bottles, beer cans, ice cream tubs and take out containers toppled, remnants of a three day depressive binge. The only reason it didn't stink was that Karen left very little food waste behind her. "I'm not that unhealthy...this is temporary...temporary...," the depowered kryptonian stammered, one hand over her heart as a panic attack rose up, "temporary." "Better eat! It's the only way to feel better!" The magnet reminded, causing Karen to start munching on the huge hot dog her other hand hadn't dropped, "don't want a panic attack at your size..."

"Brave Jalyka, you, urgh, best take the stairs first and deal with any threat," Aurelia moaned, persuading the short barbarian blob to go first, "besides, your instincts are mooo-st accurate of late." "Of course, no threat here can defeat me!" The giant blood boasted, beginning a slow waddle up the stairs that left her rapidly sweating. Aurelia would have normally watched her go, a fat ass was a fat ass, but the blood Countess had reached a point far beyond horny. Her swollen cankles screamed at every step of her pumps, her lower back groaned with every sway of her gigantic breasts and those unsupported, saggy and swollen titans throbbed with every smack against her bulbous belly. After centuries never even feeling pain, every minute was physical and mental torture! Physical from her now weak and over burdened frame dealing with so much extra blubber and mental from the sheer shock of her condition! Yesterday, Aurelia could have still passed as the immortal blood Countess. Today, after a mere hour or so in this fat trap, she was a bloated, blown up wreck, a near literal cow clad only in milk stained rags! More livestock than immortal predator! She'd changed so much, most of her immortal strength had left her, leaving her barely able to stagger on. Her face was swollen so round she looked beesting, nothing left of her sharp features. Her thick legs jiggled weakly with each shuffling step, her cannon ball belly looked ten months pregnant and her high, firm breasts were so floppy and milky they sagged like her own mother's! To say nothing of the quasi temporary hucow potions effects, granting her milky humiliation and severe verbal ticks, and her mood wasn't helped by the severe pregnancy hormones dulling her wits and making her weepy. At some point the effects of the false pregnancy potion would pass, but all of it's fat would stay! Aurelia wanted to give up, to lay down and cry... But her true self, the vengeful bitch who'd sacrificed her own soul for immortality and drank rivers of blood to maintain it demanded action! Aurelia was Countess to a destroyed County. Gorgeous immortal in a flabby milf's body. And she would have her vengeance, alive or dead, on Janilla and Zaiva and Fifi and if necessary the gods themselves! But she wasn't dealing with stairs! After yelling some choice invective at Fifi flabby butt, to her satisfaction the maid was at least looking plump even if she was positively athletic compared to her Aurelia decided stairs were going to be avoided. She closed her eyes, summoning her sluggish abilities and turned into a flock of bats...a cloud much, much, much larger than ever before! With a hurricane of beating wings she shot up the stairs and transformed back into herself... Only to remember too late that the transformation would automatically manifest her with new clothes plucked magically from her bags! Aurelia reappeared wearing her favorite tight outfit of black diamonds, black leather thigh high boots, black leather trousers and black lace top... Which immediately turned into a far too tight torture device! The weak dhampir gave a faint scream as the fabric pinched everything from her triple chin to her chubby toes! A few seams gave way, but the well made fabric held, against both her fat and the weak pawing of her hands. "H-help me," she gasped to the rest of the party in her weakness.

Chapter 8: Rising Stakes, Rising Weights, pt 1/4 'Come on Lil, get your act together,' the ex-siren muttered under her breath between bites of cream cheese, honey and a little bagel as she tottered around the blurry, luxurious captain's quarters aboard Sanctuary IV. The once sensual siren was wearing a decent approximation of her old outfit: red combat pants, a yellow shirt and a leather vest. Of course, the pants were painted on and straining at the seams, size fourteens that after weeks of lounging about in sweat pants felt painfully restrictive even if the garment might technically fit. That was only a possibility though, because Lilith wasn't yet ready to try the inevitable fight closing the button would be. Just getting them over her suddenly beefy ass was hard enough and she was letting her heart rate return to normal as she waddled through her messy room with her milk-pale avalanche of a gut sagging out through the open zipper. For once only a little bit bloated, Lilith usually turgid and stuffed to the max stomach sagged, having succumbed fully to gravity without a belly full of junk holding it up. A double belly of standing rolls was now well underway, rippling and wobbling with every small motion the depowered commander made, sweat already forming from the minor action of waddling her out of shape bulk around the room. Nothing hinted at the slender waist Lilith had once boasted of, neither individually nor as a whole. Taken apart, the prominent slabs in front and the floppy love handles hanging over the brim of her pants, red marks already forming, and the squeezable chunks of back fat surging over her waistband pointed to a lover of carbs in solid and liquid form, who drank candy like water and soda like champagne. Taken together and Lilith had the mother of all muffin tops, pushing her supposedly relaxed fit shirt up over her stomach and revealing the six quarter inch and dull red stretch marks on each side of her deepening belly button. 'Where the hell are my glasses?' she wheezed, voice high and raspy, an asthma attack coming on. She took a puff of her inhaler to calm herself down a little, feeling her chest expand as she inhaled. Lil's breasts pushed forwards and failed to meet the cups of her bra, the C cups clearly far, far too optimistic. The DD melons granted by her siren powers had vanished away, leaving her with the barely Bs she'd had most of her life. Stretch marks were on each of their sides too, revealed by the recent shrinking, and they were honestly saggier than when she'd previously been this size. But Lil knew that was temporary, she'd get back to a C cup again...around a hundred pounds from now. But worrying about the contrast between pitiful chest and foot blocking gut wasn't her main concern. Lilith had a briefing to give her vault hunters in half an hour, maybe less now, and needed to get her notes. Unfortunately telling notes apart from Bunkers and Badasses sheets when you have to put the papers three inches in front of your eyes to see them made finding them a bit difficult, especially when the wreckage of a three evening gaming session littered the big table in your room. Between herself, Maya, Moze and Amara they'd had a lot of fun, but the four women had packed a way one hell of a lot of snacks, a forest of empty bottles and bags and boxes rising up around the rockslide of polyhedral dice and carefully painted figurines and sheafs of papers. It reminded Lilith of her old apartment, a mess of gaming paraphernlia home to a complete geek and total virgin. Weirdly enough she didn't feel any shame in returning to that state, it was comforting but she still felt frustrated. 'Where the hell are my glasses!' she hissed, putting her chubby hands on her head and feeling them, 'Oh.' Sliding them down made the room 90% less blurry. When Tannis had made them the prescription had been perfect but Lilith was deteriorating fast and would need a thicker set of lenses soon. Still, she was able to find her notes on the king sized and still unused for sex (Amara saying she wanted to wait and pop Lilith's fat girl cherry when she hit full morbid obesity and hurry towards the door. Her stomach, kept mostly empty to fit into her pants, rumbled in protest at only eating three bagels that morning and Lilith ordered the solid gold food synthesizer to print her out an emperor sized candy bar to quiet its grumbles. While she did, she noticed in one of the many tall mirrors that the 200lb cream puff who used to be the galaxy's most badass woman's pants were still undone. 'Oh shit,' Lilith remembered, putting her much thicker and yet weaker arms on either side of the flaps and pulling. She felt chins bunch under her once pointed jawline as she looked down, face reddening around her rebudding and medication resistant acne and sweat immediately forming in her multitude of fat rolls. But the woman who beat Handsome Jack wasn't going to quit just because of a mere issue like several inches of her own lard preventing a button closing. Deploying the tricks of a life time of being overweight and poor, the now decadent resistance leader hauled the zipper upwards by angling her back, moving her fat up instead of in. Then came the moment of truth, inhaling deep as she could with her asthmatic lungs, Lilith sucked in her stomach and got the button closed. A seam popped somewhere and Lilith was careful to slowly release her gut, tugging the pants down and leading her muffin top pour over. She looked at herself in the mirror, taking in her moon round face with its blemishes and hurriedly covered them up with too much concealer, how her shirt was pushed up so far it was essentially a tube top to the tiny tatas within and how her thighs were now rubbing together half way to the knee. The redhead grimmaced, she'd gotten fat before after all but it had taken her most of high school to go from skinny nerd girl to 200 lb pizza faced nerd girl and now she'd done it in a few months. It was unreal, it had to be related to losing her siren powers. Or maybe, highly illegal weight gain chemicals a certain jacked Siren had programmed the ship's computer to dose the food rations of every woman but herself with. 'Its only temporary,' Lilith promised herself, sure that Amara, her big strong, steel bicepped and tritanium abbed girlfriend would soon get her her powers back, 'just think of it as a vacation from worrying.' With that she waddled off, cursing how long it took to walk anywhere on this giant, luxurious ship and wondering if she should order a mobility scooter. Back at her fattest she'd been on a waiting list for one and while she knew the pounds would come even faster, it would make her life so much easier. She occasionally felt a cold breeze on her rump and kept guessing it was due to how her back fat poured over the pants, not realizing it was due to the seam tearing during the buttoning, a six inch hole in her pants revealing a purple thong showing Amara's cockily smiling face. fight vault beast Obese Tyreen arrives after VH break in, grabs helpless Maia and depowers her. Krieg kicks their butts, they flee. Need to get to Jacobs and charge vault key but only one siren.

A short one from me to get the juices flowing again: Chancellor Katelyn was in a hurry, something of a rarity these days. Once she'd accompanied her queen across several galloping adventures as fast as her lithe legs could carry her, but for the past five years or so she'd been used to a far more sedate pace. With every step up the winding palace stairs the girl, okay given she was near thirty she'd think of herself as a young lady at least, could feel just how out of condition she'd let herself get. A horrible jiggling sensation reverberated across her body, starting where the tops of her pudgy thighs rubbed together. Katelyn had not remembered them ever doing so before, but it had been five years since she'd ran and three since she'd walked over a mile in one go so perhaps she merely hadn't noticed. Worst was her once tiny waist, now home to a small paunch and love handles. The Chancellor had first started to notice them when her boyfriend had begun using them as just that during sex. She'd vowed to start getting more exercise and limit herself to one plate at banquets that eve, but that had been six months ago and the flab now hung over the sides of her belt. Her once flat belly hadn't faired much better, having lost its once flat quality it now bulged out permanently, a not quite so small and increasingly soft little doughnut around her belly button. With every step it bounced up and down, its soft bottom slope cruelly cut by her belt, which itself show several badly stretched holes that showed her weight gain. At a landing Katelyn had to pause for breath, a horrible stitch starting in her side. Once she would have realized that standing straight was the best way to get in more air, but the out of shape former adventurer had forgotten that habit just as she'd forgotten to breathe through her nose when running. She placed hands on her hips and bent over, shocked both by how easily she'd tired and how wide her hips were. Once they had been slim and narrow, the outline of her pelvis visible when naked and only slightly wider than her waist. They'd widened and rounded extremely and Katelyn felt soft masses of fat on each side. Horrible curiosity let her hands wander further back once she'd checked to make sure the staircase was vacant of anyone who could see her shame. The shocked noble woman was not surprised to find that her once taut little bubble butt had changed a bit, but she was horrified it had taken more than its fair share of fat from her years of sloth and gluttony. In her memory, Katelyn had two perfectly round cheeks that gold coins could bounce off of, but her in the now her hands felt something quite different. Her fingers felt two heavy cheeks that were pillow soft and gave no hint of muscle tone, even worse through the thin fabric of her dress she felt the tell tale marks of cellulite, that dread harbinger of laziness and obesity having covered her once pert cheeks. An attempt to flex them, to find some trace of firmness merely brought on a painful cramp. They were much wider and lower than she'd expected, such that Katelyn couldn't tell where her fat ass ended and her chubby muffin top and plump thighs began. With mounting horror she realized that while her waist had gained plentifully, her rear end and hips had expanded drastically. Some how she'd somehow become a pear shape! Breathing heavily, the Chancellor began walking up the last stairs to the queen's armory, needing the time to ready herself. She risked a quick check of her breasts as she ascended the stairs, finding the once firm little B cups had swollen into much softer Cs. They were also starting to sag a bit as she neared thirty and lost any shred of muscle tone in her shoulders. She felt that her nipples were pointing downwards already and that her breasts were nowhere near as full as they'd been years earlier. With a deep breathe Katelyn took a step up the last stair, glimpsing a plump woman across from her. She let the air out in a gasp as she realized she stared in a mirror, raising up a hand to cover her mouth and realizing her once slim fingers had grown thick and meaty as well. Her hips were wider than she had thought and a quick turn to the side showed her paunch and plump butt made her profile no better. Her belt seemed comically sung, fat oozing out from under and over it and as she automatically loosened it she found she was on the last notch of her belt. With the mirror she found that her breasts had taken nowhere near a fair percentage of the weight and that she'd need a much more supportive bodice. No crowsfeet or early wrinkles showed on her face thankfully, but her once high cheek bones were more a suggestion in her rounder face and a double chin showed every direction she looked save down, when it had a third friend. Disgusted at herself, Katelyn marveled that she hadn't noticed how near obscene her gown was. The blue contrasted well with her pale skin, far paler than the once bronzed girl had thought, but it was skin tight. Her belly button outline was visible through it, as was the hefty split of her rear. She'd known it was getting a bit snug and realized with horror that a month ago it had been loose, just as the gown it had replaced had been loose a few months before. Ideas that she'd gained fifteen, maybe twenty pounds vanished at the realization that she was at least forty five pounds over her old weight. Worst of all she realized she was ravenously hungry, despite having eaten a large luncheon less than an hour ago. She bit down herself hatred, adjusted her hair and wiped the sweat off her reddened face. Katelyn would deal with the shocking realization that she'd acquired the body of a middle aged matron later, probably by either eating herself sick or falling into the strong arms of her boyfriend who hadn't even mentioned her softness. She had a job to do, which was to prevent a horrible realization from harming her friend Queen Rachel. After all, if Katelyn, a slim girl of some small beauty, had taken the gain of a mere fifty pounds as horrible, how would Rachel, an impossibly vain woman once noted as one of the most beautiful in the world, come to terms with having put on three hundred? The Queen would have to be persuaded to not ride out with her knights, as if a horse could carry her, not attempt to have her armor put on her, no smith on earth could alter plate designed for the most graceful of women into one that would fit her obscene rolls of fat, not have a sword long rusted into its sheath be connected with four belts to fit around her and be redirected away from challenging matters of state towards some comforting banquet tables loaded with food. 'At least,' Katelyn thought as she entered the armor and saw the blob like woman before her, who's immense sagging breasts seemed as large as her Chancellor's torso had once been, 'I'll look thin in comparison.'

And chapter 4, written after too long of a week at work. Yennefer launches a one woman assault on a cult of witch hunters, what could go wrong? Besides gaining a hundred or so pounds... Chapter 4: A Most Fattening Coup Superstitious peasants claimed that witches flew across the night sky on brooms. This was untrue of course. A village witch, be she a spiteful bag of bones or a bloated hag, wouldn’t have a percentage of the power needed to make a broomstick fly across the night sky. A well trained, superbly powerful, Veretruza educated sorceress on the other hand…well, she wouldn’t need to….or shouldn’t need too at least. “OhnoI’mgoingtodie,” shot through Yennefer’s mind as she hurtled through the air, far faster than planned. Dressed in a black gown and jacket,skirts trailing beneath her and hair whipping back, the sorceress was moving faster than an arrow. Levitating wasn’t unusual for her, she was among the top telekinetics alive, at Sodden Hill she’d grabbed Nilfgardian ballista bolts from the sky and thrown them into enemy formations. But throwing an iron bolt was one thing, not crushing your own fragile body into paste was another...especially when your mass had increased by almost fifty percent in two months. She’d given herself a little extra oomph on take off and instead of compensating for the fifty pounds she’d gained, the force was enough to send her hundreds of feet higher than expected! Struggling not to scream, the sorceress slowed her rapid ascent slowly, so as not to crush herself flat between two opposing forces. After long moments of wait, she finally slowed to a halt, nearly a thousand feet up, cold sea winds making her abundant flesh rise with goose pimples. “This used to be easier,” the sorceress gulped to herself, “or at least easier to control, why in the sphere would I be able to fling myself around so easily when I’m this big?” She was used to moving around a slender, narrow, petite body. Not one with thick thighs, girthy hips, protruding belly and bulging, bulbous breasts, her aerodynamics having completely changed. Yennefer had expected the night’s flight to be a bit difficult due to hauling around her fat butt, that she’d have to carefully burn power lest she run out of mana and plummet! Instead, her reserves were overflowing. “It made no sense, magic comes from the user’s stamina and I’m...well, I have no stamina. I’m fat as a gravid pig anymore and sweat going up stairs,” the brunette muttered, feeling her snug clothes pinch her porky body, “Ugh, but tonight it ends. I’ll find Ciri and then...it’s time to diet and maybe even, ugh, exercise…” A breeze stirred Novigrad’s typical fog below her, out of the soup loomed the tall cathedral spires of the Cult of Eternal Fire’s cathedral. Putting thoughts aside, Yennefer lowered herself down onto an angled tower roof, grabbing the banner pole and carefully setting her plump buns upon the chilly tiles. There was a small *POP* that sounded as she sat, making her look around in alarm thinking it was some sort of watch signal...only to feel cool air on her belly. “What fresh humiliation is this,” Yennefer muttered, looking down and seeing her belly bulging out of her armor in the moonlight. Mages by tradition didn’t wear armor, wearing metal when you might need to throw lightning bolts was a bad idea. And superfluous when you could make a magical shield able to resist a trebuchet’s lead shot. But given that the Cult of Eternal fire had crossbow bolts tipped in magic ignoring dimeritium, Yennefer had taken the offer of a brigantine jacket before beginning the assault. The strong yet lightweight armor consisted of small, overlapping steel plates inside tough fabric, in this case black velvet. It was a charming suit, one that Yennefer could see herself wearing with a pair of high leather boots and skintight pants, showing off a lean, sexy body...that she’d eaten herself out of. Far too short for a knight’s harness, Yenn had been given armor made for a squire. A fit, skinny young man who exercised thrice a day and had a stomach flat as a board. She’d barely squeezed into the tight jacket, its laces pulled tighter than a corset, and after an hour of heavy breathing and then a quick change in position, well it was no surprise it had popped loose. With some trepidation, Yennefer pinched the thick layer of lard, finding it spongy soft and ticklish to the touch. Biting her lip she sucked in and refastened the armor, hoping it would hold. “What have I done to myself? I used to have a twenty inch waistline, Geralt could almost put his hands around it,” she cursed to herself. With Triss, the other sorceress’ lips pressed to her sloshing figure, it was easy to feel good about ballooning up. All that mattered was just getting bigger and softer and more suited to eating oversized, luxurious meals. But when operating in the field, her body shredding protective garments, well...it was fairly hard to feel good about it! “Diet later, focus now,” the brunette insisted, looking down at her prey. Fat and lazy the raven haired woman might be, but she still had the powers of a mage at her disposal. Scooting up to wrap her chubby thighs around the pole, Yennefer pulled a pair of opera glasses from her enchanted bottomless bag, looking through them at an illuminated night. Eternal Fire guards and witch hunters stood out like lit torches, Yennefer making note in her mind of where they all stood and doing a quick head count. That done, she planned her spells, realizing it would be as easy as eating turkey legs… “Turmfy Smlegs?” she said in puzzlement, through a mouth full of delicious meat. Swallowing, Yennefer looked down to a steaming drumstick in her free hand, mostly stripped of meat. A memory of Triss suggesting packing emergency rations into the enchanted bag came back. “I’m eating without even knowing it,” she groaned, “ugh, this diet starts at dawn! Triss better hurry up with her part of a plan, or I’ll be over 200lbs…” She ate the rest of the turkey leg anyway as she waited for Triss' signal...and there it was! Out in the city, at a witch hunter barracks, there was a sudden plume of fire! Triss worked best with flame, both to nurture and to burn, and right now she, Djikstra and some of his gang were launching an assault to kill every witch hunter there, free any prisoners and most importantly, draw the eye of every witch hunter in the city. An alarm was raised and the cathedral garrison rushed to the yard, mounting horses and preparing to ride to their comrade’s rescue. “Unless some enchantingly beautiful and righteously pissed sorceress killed them all for imprisoning her daughter first,” Yennefer smiled, beginning to cast. Having found a hidden stash of dimeritium, the Church of Eternal Fire thought itself well prepared for a magical assault. They were quite wrong because despite the spell proof collars most of their hunters wore, Yennefer knew all the ways around protection. The collars might protect against a lightning bolt or magical fire ball, but not against a hundred mile an hour brick to the face. Holding up the turkey leg like a baton, she wove her brick back and force, smack, pop, bam, bop, those witch hunters left on the walls falling like flies. When the last one was done, the brunette grinned and stood up to begin the next part of her task. “Nowfm feur thu gatef,” she said through a full mouth, frowning to angrily realize she’d devoured yet another Turkey leg from her bag, “Oh for the love of the Gods, what the hell is wrong with me?” Throwing the second bone away, she jumped off the tower, hovering to a stop thirty feet above the column of soldiers preparing to open the gate. She took a deep breath, so deep that as her now plush bosom pressed into her armor the inevitable happened and straps made to resist steel gave way before tit. A pop sounded, loud enough soldiers heard it and turned to see Yenn’s half foot of pale cleavage gleaming in the moonlight. Which was the last thing they saw, as the sorceress screamed. Fifty pounds of fat meant that Yennefer couldn’t hit the high notes like she should have, but the low bass shot forwards in a deadly cone. Witch hunters were slammed into the gates, flattened by the men behind them slamming into them and then the gates themselves gave way, flying off into the street. Gasping, an out of breath Yennefer wiped sweat from her brow and slowly settled onto the ground, the cathedral square apparently unguarded. “Ugh, I’ve definitely gotten louder over the past months. My wind is a bit...low though,” she muttered, trying to get her armor buttoned back over her tits before Djikstra’s army of gangsters came in and saw her nipples. The short sorceress was turning rapidly into a short stack. Her breasts had tripled in size from the little B cups she’d had, ripening from little grapefruits into soft pumpkins. Thankfully they were still pert and round, unlike Triss’ floppy delicotage, but the brunette was finding the big bust a bit odd to deal with. Unfortunately, the sensitivity of her bust and the issue of shoving the big titties inside a breastplate made for a twelve year old boy distracted her from the golem she was walking by. A bronze statue of some long dead saint burst to life as yennefer passed, its programming making it instantly hostile to a mage. Yennefer was grabbed by her ankles, raised high and slammed head first into the ground. Thankfully the magical shield she’d put on herself protected her from the damage, but her ears still rang and the half dazed brunette had to pump power into her shields as she was slammed again and again, her reserves of mana plunging by the heart beat...and then thrown through the main doors of the cathedral itself! Yelping, she put every ounce of power she had into protecting herself and just managed to avoid getting her skull caved in. Wood shattering about her failing barrier, Yennefer shot through the air, having all the magic of a particularly plump baker’s daughter. Her journey brought her crossing pews and plate glass windows to arc towards the very altar of the cathedral. She went over the heads of a dozen praying bishops and priests praying to be saved from her assault. Among them, she recognized the head of the Church of the Eternal Fire himself, one Hierarch Cyrus Engelkid Hemmelfart, by his dazed expression and huge hat. Old, cruel, fanatical and more than a bit deranged, the bishop laughed as the witch who’d assaulted his cathedral went spinning right into the roaring, sacred flame of the eternal fire itself! “Behold brethren, a foul witch is tossed right into the fire! It is a sign, a sign from the Fire itself that she is corrupt! That she is venal, that she is a ** to dark powers and foreigners, a whore who...who...whores herself to foreigners and dark powers!” the ancient priest worked out, “So she will burn! Burn forever!” “Gods, I’m going to die having to listen to a sermon!” Yennefer thought to herself, cursing her foolhardiness. The Sorceress was spared too much pain by landing ass first hit into the marble bowl of the eternal fire, the huge flames whooshing up around her. The Sorceress had a second of blind panic, for to be seized by uneducated, unwashed and superstitious masses as a witch and burned in their blind panic was nearly as bad as growing old and ugly. But, a second later the dour sorceress made a startling discovery. She wasn’t burning. In fact apart from the big bruise on her ass, she felt completely fine! “This isn’t fire, the whole Eternal Fire isn’t fire at all,” she said to herself, tongue tasting the air, “in fact it’s...magic.” The whole thing was magic. Perhaps fueled by belief or perhaps an ancient source of mana but she’d been tossed not onto her funeral pyre but instead into a damn dessert tray for her powers! Smiling to herself, Yennefer did what she’d been practicing for months: consuming. The eternal flame began to dim, shadows long denied rushing into the cathedral to the terror of its corrupt priests. Yennefer felt her mana reserves rise and rise...and then overflow...growing stronger than she’d ever been! With a cackle worthy of a fairy tale witch, the sorceress levitated easily out of the failing fire, skin starting to glow as more and more magic filled her up! “A whore of dark powers you call me? A witch you call me? Fools, damned fools and old fools, liars and hypocrites I call you. I am Yennefer of Vengerburg, a victor of Sodden Hill and purer than you can imagine. Your fire loves me more than it ever did you!” she laughed, drawing yet more...and ignoring the first warning groan from her clothes, “now watch as I devour it all!” Magic was nothing more than power. And power was nothing more than energy. And in the human body, energy was nothing more than fat. The onrushing mana was immediately cached for future use, in the form of energy rich lard about Yennefer’s body. And as the power kept flowing, Yennefer started growing. First her gloves got tight as her fingers and forearms plumped up, the leather groaning and her hand gestures getting harder and harder. There was a rip in her slashed upper sleeves as bingo wings and floppy biceps grew in, the pale skin bursting through white and black fabric. Lazy and flabby, her new pillowy arms were exposed as her sleeves disintegrated, rips even forming in the stitching of her gloves. “No, no no no,” Yennefer gasped in shock as she kept growing, the fat creeping onto her body from her fingers up. Already the soft shoulders bulged outwards, any sign of collar bone vanishing. Her neck thickened until it pressed into the collar of her armor, which gave way with a pop, seam ticking the sagging droop of a third chin. The rosy chub of her cheeks rounded out, burying any sign of her old regalness. Breasts too big to easily manage at the start of the day grew warm and rushed forwards, gaining half their size again and shredding her armor’s buckles. The round tits bounced out, pulling Yennefer’s shoulders into a slump with their bowling ball size and heaving weight, switching from round to teardrop in a heartbeat. Her belly followed suit, the armor stretching and stretching, seams ripping in the brigantine. Stretch Marks formed over her gut as it went from pampered paunch to the gut of a serious overeater. First the marks were white over an embarrassingly large tummy, one big as a pregnant girl’s and then turning purple as Yennefer kept going, her waistline expanding from that of a spoiled merchant daughter to a spoiled merchant’s wife who’d had nine pregnancies in a decade. For a moment her belt held, a painful vice with a meaty muffin top quivering above it. Then the leather at last gave out and her tummy sagged down, half covering her sex. Yet for all the scope of tit growth and stretch of belly growth, Yennefer had always carried most of her weight lower. Saddle bags and hip fat spread wider and wider, keeping her skirt up even as its top button snapped and its belt failed, stretching the black fabric until her camel toe would have been visible had there been light. Until at last, even the gown failed, exposing Yennefer hanging naked in the air with a pair of door jammer hips a full four feet around, thick cellulite spreading across the awkward slope down to her embarrassing saddle bags. Her underwear became a torture device crueler than any inquisitor, lacey thong flossing her ass and vag as it stretched past anything its maker had ever expected. When it finally broke, the fabric hung in place, trapped by the equine scale ass that Yennefer had grown. Each bun was bigger than Yennefer’s head, first swelling out round and proud before slumping and sagging under their own weight, tiger stripes worthy of a hunting cat forming across the drooping buns, wide enough to be seen from the front. Her fishnet tights held a heart beat, before snapping off their shredding garter belt, fat surging through the gaps. Black leather boots lasted a moment longer, diamonds of lardy pale flesh forming between brass buttons until they too failed and fell away. Yen’s nimble legs were now so fat they had a roll across their thigh and her delicate ankles had vanished completely, gobbled up by cankles. Even her feet were plumper! The only garment that remained was the enchanted nilfgaardian choker about her neck, the very charm that was making her fatter stretching to not be buried by her triple chins. Unable to believe her senses, the now morbidly obese Yennefer looked down in aghast, chins folding over themselves, in embarassed terror. She’d thought herself fat but that had been mere chubbiness. This on the other hand? She had to weigh twice her starting weight and half again, she’d packed on a hundred pounds from consuming that fire! She was obese, freakish, amongst the fattest women she’d ever seen, hideous, disgusting, huge, wide, immense, gigantic, ogrish, corpulent, swollen...Gods, she was nearly 300lbs! And all of it had happened in perhaps ten seconds. “I...I…,” Yen stammered trying to think of what to say now that she was both naked and immense before her enemies so flummoxed she drifted down to the ground. Her knees and ankles immediately complained, a frame built to carry 110lbs not up to comfortably standing with 170lbs of excess on it! The short, wide, dense woman groaned at the feeling, realizing it was going to be with her for a very long time. The Cult of Eternal Fire said it for her. “The...the...the Chosen One!” the Hierarch gasped in shock, a lifetime of his own venial sins coming to fruition as he saw the coming of an ancient prophecy making him have a massive heart attack, fall over and die. “The what?” the stunned ball of a sorceress asked from where she floated, plump fingers holding up the sagging apron of her gut. “The chosen one, the chosen one, the chosen one!” the bishops gasped, stepping over their dead leader without missing a step, someone grabbing his big hat, “As the prophecies say, the drinker of the fire, the bringer of soft light, the chosen one, come to save us from the darkness!” Before she could cast a spell or ask further, someone plopped the huge hierophant tiara onto Yennefer’s head and the senior surviving priests of the church all threw themselves to the floor, bowing and crying. “Lead us, oh chosen one! Lead us!” they yelled in unison, “command us! Command us!” Yennefer blinked her now piggish eyes, looking about in confusion as a growl escaped her stomach. “How...how about a snack?” she asked before shaking her ebony locks and sagging chins,“And my daughter. Bring me my daughter! Bring me Princess Cirilla!” The bowing bishops looked about in confusion. “Princess Cirilla? But...she is not in our dungeons,” one said to their new divinely appointed leader. Yennefer stared at him, literal daggers almost jumping from her eyes, “Then...then who the hell is locked up here!?”

And after a month of nothing, the Climax! Chapter 8: the Climax After long delay and much preparation, Captain Rachel at last waddled into the great hall of Wide-Harbor’s palace. The ballooned beauty was as prepared as she could be given the havoc wrought upon her once peerless figure, for she was no longer the impossibly lithe and unbelievably dangerous woman of a month ago. Even her dress showed this, for instead of a skin tight, backless and hip hugging outfit she wore a loose, conservative azure dress hung down to her knees, its loose sleeves encasing her arms to the wrist and only showing off the staggeringly deep valley of cleavage that were here engorged tatas. Hidden inside the fabric’s array of folds were a stupendous, and extremely expensive, amount of artifacts meant to give Rachel a fighting chance in the likely case of violence, objects she had had her crew spend the entire day and much coin retrieving. Rachel’s keg like gut, with its deep, sagging folds of adipose, was cinched up tight inside a steel boned corset and further secured by a broad leather belt with a huge silver buckle. Even combined they couldn’t hope to make that gargantuan waist look svelte again, but they did keep the numerous rolls and bulges that coated the blonde’s formerly pristine midsection from bouncing on her thighs and there were one-shot runes engorged upon the corset’s ribs and the belt’s buckle. Saying a particular phrase would activate multiple enchantments for a few minutes: some would increase Rachel’s strength to gigantic levels, others would give her boundless energy and stamina, while a few were meant merely to keep the garment together against the immense strain of the tall woman’s hefty paunch. Long, custom made boots hugged the tree trunk thickness of Rachel’s previously athletic legs. Laced tight and rubbed with wax they kept down the worst of the chaffing the bulbous pirate hunter experienced. Like the corset they were enchanted, with the right phrase for a few minutes Rachel would be able to abandon her lethargic waddle and sprint faster than a horse again. Pinching the thick bingo wings of her biceps, which had grown so soft and pillowy they were as large as Rachel’s old thighs, were numerous torcs of precious metals studded with gems, while complementary bracelets pinched her plump wrists and rings adorned her sausage like fingers. Their purpose was to boost the pirate hunter’s dexterity and strength, to let her arms strike like the talons of a panther instead of the bloated paws of a house cat. Rachel never went anywhere unarmed and today was no exception. Necessity forced the abandonment of a sword or mace, for the monumental spread of her fifty odd inch stomach and its accompanying set of lovehandles and hips meant that Rachel couldn’t hope to actually draw such a weapon. To add to the peerless swordwoman’s humiliation, the very strain of her weight upon her knees and ankles meant that a lunge was almost medically impossible, even if she could lunge without spraining an ankle there was a high chance her heavy, bouncing bosom or hemispheric, cellulite studded ass would throw her off balance. So instead of a sword, Rachel carried a long staff of steel, a weapon with long reach that doubled as a support for her walk. And humiliating as it was, Rachel found herself needing that support. It was nearly a mile from the Belt-Buster to Wide-Harbor’s palace and even though the streets were wide and flat as a board, the obese woman found herself sweating and panting before leaving the docks. Temptation flared as she saw a carriage for hire glide past, but she forced down any thought of purchasing a seat (or three). Refusing to walk a mile was something a fat girl would do, and even with five chins, a paunch that hung to her knees and tits that hung to her belly button Rachel would never think of herself as fat. She trudged on, huffing and puffing the entire time, the sweat and motion beginning to ruin her carefully applied makeup and styled hair. Nor did the Captain go alone, she wouldn’t have done so even had she been in her best condition. Half a dozen of her crew girls led by First Mate Matilda, whose belt was out another notch, flanked her on either side. They wore skimpy and revealing clothes, looted and pilfered short skirts and tiny tops showing off their slender thighs, sculpted bellies (or in Matilda’s case paunchy starter belly) and pert breasts. Belts and weaponry festooned the girls as well, for despite the titillating display of their perfect figures they were bodyguards and not eye candy. Bethany also came along, looking startlingly slender in skin tight leather pants and a tight fitting, utterly unnecessary corset. Her belly was once again flat as a board, a noticeable gap was between her firm thighs, sagging breasts had regained their perk and her pear shaped rear was once more a tight, firm bubble. She walked cooly and collectedly, earning catcalls and whistles while Rachel’s cow-like frame earned mockery. It was all an illusion of course, as anyone who cared to look at the sorceress’ shadow could see it was actually that of a very fat woman, with a ballooning stomach, sagging breasts, slow moving thunder thighs and hips a yard across. Those tight, trendy size two clothes were really loose, practical size 22s and she was in truth sweating worse than Rachel and struggling to keep up. Bad mouth illusions in private she might, but Bethany was as vain as any sorceress and refused to be seen in public looking like she truly appeared. She might be a tubby little couch-potato who was in worse shape even than Rachel now, but the heftier woman had still wanted magical fire power along for the confrontation. After longer than Rachel wanted to admit, and with at least one break for the sweating, panting woman, the procession reached the palace. Stewards and guards admitted the odd party without question, despite Rachel having grown obese to the point of being completely unidentifiable she still bore a seal given to her by the Duke. She and her party were led to the great hall, a large construction with several doors in its walls and a ceiling lost in darkness. Only Rachel’s party and Duke Roger were present, the duke flanked by a pair of halberd bearing guards. Ears burning with whispered comments about her rather hefty new physique and thighs burning from the effort of hauling her fat ass across town, Rachel collapse into a chair, which groaned ominously under her hips. Without saying a word she began sucking down watered wine from a pitcher before her, forgetting lady like decorum learned in marble palaces in her need for hydration. ‘Greetings my adored Captain Rachel,’ said Duke Roger, once he had recovered from the shock of seeing his quarry waddle into his clutches, his work already done for him even before she started sucking down wine drugged with weight gain potions, ‘there’s something different about you if I may say…’ ‘Its my hair,’ Rachel answered sarcastically, sitting back in the chair as far as her doughy figure permitted, ‘I’ve added some volume to it.’ ‘Of course, I believe I see it now, it really brings out your eyes,’ the noble smirked, delighted that his prey was already drinking down more wine laced with the powder, as were her body guards and mage, in a matter of moments all of them would be so fat that movement would be impossible, ‘I believe it will become a popular style very soon.’ ‘Actually I don’t believe I like it, it tends to get in the way and I didn’t choose the style,’ returned the Captain, smiling dangerously, ‘it makes me feel rather off put really.’ ‘Ah, but you have it now and it will take some time to undo,’ the Duke responded, ‘all that volume must be hard to display once acquired. At least your appetite hasn’t suffered I hope?’ ‘You could say I’m eating like a pig,’ answered the Captain, ‘or like a sorceress perhaps.’ The last remark was aimed at Bethany, who had already cleared away a plate of fried, buttery appetizers that would have been stupefyingly unhealthy even without the alchemical booster. The seemingly svelte mage just rolled her eyes at the cutting remark and kept munching. ‘But if my hunger for food has grown, then so has my appetite for pursuing the guilty,’ Rachel continued, ‘there are many pirates on land and sea still to catch.’ ‘Oh yes, I must congratulate you on your last victory,’ the Duke said, knowing that at a word he could flood the room with strong, fit guards, ‘turning Captain Ravanche into a flabby sow like that was just icing on the cake for such a complete triumph.’ ‘Oh, but I’m not done yet,’ boasted Rachel, ‘Ravanche had allies, including one’s in high places.’ The huge woman started to surge up then, needing her arms to press all of her heavy weight from the overloaded chair. Roger began yelling an order for the rest of his small army of guards to charge the room, but before it left his mouth Bethany gestured with her hand, without even dropping her fork, and the Duke was paralyzed, his voice made a whisper. The two guards behind him suddenly sprouted daggers and throwing stars as Matilda and the crew girls cut them down, still slim as ever despite having consumed enough magically charged calories to render them permanently immobile. ‘How!?’ demanded the Duke, even as Bethany cast another spell that froze all of the doors leading in and out of the great hall in an impenetrable sheet of magical ice, cutting off the small army of soldiers who fruitlessly pounded on the portals. ‘Just because I’m blonde doesn’t mean I’m stupid,’ said Rachel, relieved at how easy the entire process was, ‘I marked you as a snake from the moment we met. And given everything that’s happened the past few weeks, it was easy to guess what potion Ravanche’s stupid brother would dose our food with tonight. The antidote for it is frighteningly easy to prepare.’ ‘But how did you know I would try and fatten you up?!’ ‘Because Ravanche is a blood crazed psycho,’ responded Rachel, ‘someone like her only gets to be the biggest pirate on the coast if she has one hell of an edge and she’s too crazy to come up with one herself. You’re also the only one with the resources for a drug capable of both fattening a mage and driving them temporarily insane and the only one who would benefit from the trade being hurt. I’d have figured out it was you even without Sylvia’s information.’ ‘That bitch!’ ‘Is one of my best assets,’ said Rachel, ‘more useful than blue eyes and more permanent than steely abs. Its not everyday you find a crewwoman not only smart enough to pose as a stupid secretary, but dedicated enough to let an absolute ass fuck her and add forty five pounds to her frame. The hour I pulled into port, she gave me every conversation you’ve had about fattening sorceresses, raiding ships and plotting to overthrow your king, as well as the ingredients to your drug. I think I’ll let her decide whether I give you to the Royal Dungeons, the Merchant’s guild or the Sorceresses’ Lodge.’ ‘You’ll never escape this room!’ snarled the captive Duke. ‘Bethany will be teleporting us out of here in moments,’ the Captain responded, ‘and none of your guards can stop us.’ It was at that point that a blunt headed stun arrow popped Bethany right between the eyes, instantly knocking the mage unconscious. Three tall, lithe, exotic and imposing brunettes dropped from the shadowy rafters, their compact, leather clad frames differentiated only by minor variations in hair style and weapon choice. ‘Ha, you’ve met your match now you fat bitch!’ snapped Roger, rising from his seat and drawing a blade as the unconscious Beth’s spell wore off, ‘you should have killed me while you had the chance!’ A heeled boot struck the Duke’s head, hard enough to send him twitching to the hall’s stone floor where a second crack sounded. ‘No one cares about you,’ Sabrina snarled, having delivered a perfect side kick without taking her bow off Rachel, ‘now for you my dear big, and I do mean that in every way now, half-sister. At the order of his Imperial Majesty Basil Mahedron the I, forever may he reign, and under the authority of Imperial Spymaster Ashlay the Vast, we take custody of you, errant Grand Princess Rachel Mahedron, in order to return you to the Imperial City. Now will you waddle those thunder thighs with us or do we have to carry your globular ass out of here.’ ‘That ass is going to take a lot of carrying,’ Sandra teased, her steel sheathed fists up in front of her, ‘those buns aren’t exactly steely anymore. I’m surprised she managed to get in the door.’ ‘Maybe we should just let her keep running?’ asked Sasha, the sword wielding triplet approaching the alarmed crew girls with blades drawn, ‘She can’t haul herself more than a few feet before she keels over in exhaustion the obese pig. Then I can be heir to the throne.’ ‘I was born a full second before you Sasha, I get to be heir!’ Sandra objected, ignoring her assailants to turn on her sister. ‘Stuff it both of you,’ Sabrina ordered them, ‘Mother’s orders are specific, we bring her home alive. Although Rachel’s let herself go so badly Father will probably laugh her out of the Empire when we bring her home. Then we can take turns being heir.’ ‘You’re all illegitimate you idiots!’ snapped Rachel, rehashing an argument that had been old when all four women were in pig tails, ‘So shut your mouths and let me kick all three of your asses like I have every time since we were children.’ ‘Look at the mouth on her,’ mocked Sandra, ‘although I’m not surprised given how big the rest of her has gotten. But she thinks she can fight in that condition! She’s dumber than her mother.’ ‘Oh fuck you!’ Rachel yelled, activating her enchanted garments and surging up with suddenly super human might and speed. Her left hand flipped over the table, which Sabrina was standing on, while her right seized a pitcher of dosed wine and hurled it at Sasha’s face. The archer ran up the rising table of fattening food stuffs with grace and aplomb, while her sibling’s knives automatically flashed before her face to shatter the pitcher. In the half second before the fattening liquid hit her face, Sasha screamed in too late realization as the dosed wine splashed into her face. Meanwhile, Ashlay’s mountainous body rose up from her seat with surprising speed and kicked the now vertical table hard to send it crashing down on Sabrina. Dosed so heavily with fattening potions was the wine that the assassin began to immediately absorb it through her skin, not counting the full mouthful she automatically swallowed down. She dropped her knives and continued screaming, thickening hands pawing at her expanding form as a body honed by years of exercise was ruined in seconds. Washboard abs softened instantly into a plump paunch that continued surging out into a round gut, shredding her shirt in the process, and then sagged down into an apron that reached her knees. Athletic limbs riped sleeve and pant leg with ease as they grew near immovable with fat rolls. But the brunt of this massive gain was Sasha’s ass, growing wider and lower by the second. The no longer nubile woman’s ass quickly eclipsed Rachel’s hefty behind, so large that it quickly merged with her back and legs into one vast collection of adipose, coated in a moonscape of lard. Instead of watching her half sister grow to twice her own impressive weight, Rachel turned to face the onrushing Sandra. The martial artist assassin had already felled four of Rachel’s twelve guards, her feet and fists an impossible flurry of blows that shattered swords and knocked trained fighters out cold with the slightest touch. Slowed by her heaviness, Rachel took a dozen brutal punches that would have every right to kill her cold. But the very rolls of lard that slowed her down were her salvation, providing a layer of shock absorption that let the slowed woman bring her iron staff about to parry a surely lethal punch. For a few moments the siblings battered each other, steel knuckles matching iron staff in a rain of hits too fast to follow. But Sandra’s form was perfect, her athleticism unmatched save by her sisters, bar Sasha now, and Rachel’s boosting enhancements were fading fast. With every breath the gargantuan blonde grew slower, panting harder and harder while the rip of seams sounded from her overloaded garments. Eventually Sandra planted a near perfect punch onto the broad plate of Rachel’s belt buckle, tearing away the buckle from its leather. The punch was too much for Rachel’s belt and corset to take. Her belt fell to the ground, robbing her of half her remaining strength and the overloaded corset of much needed support. Another rip sounded as the steel boned garment tore itself apart under the pressure of Rachel’s surging stomach. The ruined garment’s enchantments instantly fizzled out, leaving Rachel panting and wheezing and even worse thrown off balance by the sagging jut of her no longer restrained apron gut. Sandra knocked the horrifically out of shape princess over with the slightest tap, planting her on her fat back. ‘Call off your crew sister,’ Sandra barked, putting a foot on her doughy stomach like the first to conquer a peak, ‘or I’ll roll you over their corpses.’ ‘Call yourself off,’ Rachel huffed, ‘or we’ll both be short two siblings.’ ‘What do you even mean?’ demanded Sandra, ‘Sabrina, shoot the…no!’ Sandra turned to see her other triplet pinned to the ground, not under the table like she had thought but by her own immense figure. Sasha might have been too big to fight, but Sabrina was so huge she couldn’t even move. At least three pitchers had crashed against her body, dosing her with a scarce believable amount of fattening alchemy. Her clothes were rags trapped between her wobbling rolls and the peerless assassin groaned and cried, unable to see past the monstrous pair of tits in front of her. Sabrina was at least six times her old weight, with a disproportionately high amount in her now colossal breasts. Never again would the assassin be able to pull back a bow and she’d need specially designed garments even to hope to walk again. ‘You’re two thirds out of commission,’ smirked Rachel, ‘pull out now while one of you can walk. One of Ashlay’s triplets dragging her two disable sisters out of a hostile city is a thing of legends. Three of them rendered into fat blobs sold into the next harem I find is a joke.’ ‘This isn’t over!’ snapped Sandra, the last slim triplet warily backing off towards her morbidly obese siblings, eyes cautious for anything that could ruin her still perfect figure. ‘For now, it is.’

Rising Stakes, Rising Weights, pt 2/4 Movement turned out to be the big problem in getting the bulked out Maya to the Vault. This new "cheat" way to charge up one of the Vault Key fragment could only be done once and the charge would only last moments at best. Which meant that the three hundred and nine pound blue haired glutton couldn't be left to lay back on the pleasure barge and indulge in her preferred activities of reading, stuffing and belly rubs but would have to be taken into close combat. Once that wouldn't have been a problem, for Maya was a Vault Hunter, one of the most dangerous human beings in the whole galaxy even before being counted as a Siren. But now? "Has, uh, has anyone seen my SMG?" the obese siren wheezed as she waddled towards the ship's Fast travel station. Her step was a pathetically slow waddle, her doughball legs having to be forced past each other with every motion. Already the weakened muscles were complaining about the half mile walk from her palatial quarters, the extra thirtyish pounds of blubber she'd packed on in a few days of round the clock gorging pressing harder on her joints. She'd been crammed into a new pair of sweat pants whose seams were already being tested by the shapeless bulk of her wobbling ass. Cookie dough was the major part of Maya's diet and cookie dough her figure had become, her totally toneless tummy turgid to the touch with a gallon of double chocolate chip and completely bare, the middle zipper of her black jacket hanging wide open to reveal a protrusion of rolls and bulges from her FUPA up to her wobbling boobs resting in a sports bra. The Siren's once elegant face was totally round, reddened with the effort of her short walk. "I think I left it, maybe on one of the buffet tables in the orgy room?" Maya asked as she saw the other Vault Hunters. "Maya, Maya, don't worry about a little thing like taking a gun into combat," Amara smiled at her, the muscular siren's mind nearly ripping apart at the tidal wave of butter waddling towards the group, "we'll do the fighting for you. Now have a seat and a snack, wouldn't want you burning any energy off..." If you could even get those sausage fingers through the trigger guard. Gods of Partali, you are a big wobbly sack of delicious fat I just want to stuff until you're too big to ever get up again, flickered through Amara's mind, making her bite her lip to not drool. The weeks on the pleasure barge had changed the darker, stronger siren too. Moze had gone from timid and submissive to the full on dom in their relationship, three days every week saw Amara as the obedient sub gorging herself while being chained up. Sometimes to a chair or to the ceiling, sometimes bound on the floor, but always with large bowls of food in front of her and a demand that she gorge while Moze spanked her, teased her and licked her before taking her with a strap on. The sex was some of the best Amara had ever had and it scared the living shit out of her. She liked being the sub. She liked getting force fed. She liked Moze bending to her ear and calling her a fatty, rubbing the brown sphere of Amara's stomach, stuffed to the brim with lean protein and grilled veggies. Amara had gained weight from the force feeding. Good, muscular weight that made her biceps and triceps pop even more thanks to all of her exercise, that made her ripped quads and hamstrings bulge against her tight pants and her heart shaped rear so hard bullets would bounce off of it. She'd finally crossed through the 150s and 160s and was now knocking at last on her goal of 170lbs. But what scared her out of her mind was that Moze could add chocolate to it and she'd eat every bit... "Gotta admit, I'm not ready for going into battle without my mech," Moze said, waddling up with not too much less effort than Maya, trying to adjust the strap of her Vladoff assault rifle around her monstrous F cup boobs, "I'm just hoping no piece of hot brass lands in this cleavage, right?" "Oh with all the shields you have, that won't be a problem," Amara told her, smiling at both the canyon of tata flesh before her and the oozy beer gut flopping over Moze's belt, extending a finger to lift up a roll of fat and tap the green light on one of the Gunner's energy barrier projectors, "they'll be sure to protect all of you..." Maybe it had been wrong to supercharge Moze' gain with ever more illegal cattle hormones to the point that the gunner's once small gut was big enough to sag itself. Maybe the way that Moze's boobs were now swelling against the fabric of her sports bra, or mushrooming around it to push against her white t-shirt directly, and sore from preparing to lactate was evidence Amara had dosed her with too many fertility drugs. Maybe the fact that Moze had gained thirty pounds in fourteen days and popped right into the 200s, fresh stretch marks breaking out across her body and now needed a knee brace for walking, was a sign that Amara should slow down. Maybe. "Yeah, there's a lot of me to protect though. Just as long as I can be the gunner on the car," Moze chuckled, patting her ever thickening waist which was pulling even with her boobs, "provided I can fit into the turret. Oh wait, you forgot something..." With a dexterous flip of her soft fingers, Moze pulled a silvery metal collar from her belt. It wrapped around Amara's neck, the siren freezing to see it, and the gunner had it in place before the taller woman could move. Moze smiled up at her, running her fingers over the silver cat collar, the ID tag of which read "Kitten" and had the gunner's name and echo address listed to call if found. "Wouldn't want people mistaking you for someone else's property, would we?' the gunner grinned. "I...," Amara tried to say, thinking of a way take off this humiliating public sign of her private habits but being interrupted. "Death comes in the shape of four," the robotic hunter FL4K nodded walking up and accompanied by his pet Skag and the giant psycho Krieg. "Time to kill, uh, fight the meat, no the bad guys!" the hulking Krieg yelled, revving his saw axe, "If of course, my little love muffin is ready?" Maya looked up from the very literal and not at all muffin she'd been eating, crumbs falling into her sweaty cleavage, "Just let me finish up my snack..." .... It was unfortunate that the Promethean vault was still in an area held by the remaining Children of the Vault. The original plan had been to have Maya inside the armored cab of a customized tank that the still more morbidly obese than anyone else Ellie had made but the usually size conscious woman hadn't counted on the sheer spherical ness of the swollen Siren. Maya was far too fat to squeeze through the hatch of the invincible vehicle, meaning that they had to go with plan B: plopping the blue tattooed porker into the back of an armored truck and putting pedal to the metal before anyone shot them as they dashed down the long, straight avenue of a flood drain. "Stop moving around!" Moze grunted, stuffed like a cork into the truck's turret as she fired its built in catapult, "Ha, got you!" Yet another bandit speeder exploded from the impact of the bomb catapult, its shrapnel making another smear on the battle stained urban planet. Moze punched a jiggly arm into the air and felt rather than heard a rip as her sports bra started to go. Blanching, the obese gunner pulled her arm back down but could already feel her right boob start to sag to the side. "Don't get cocky, Moze," Amara told her, weaving the truck around a mine and through a barrier, several Children of the Vault psychos jumping aboard the vehicle in an ambush. They picked the wrong car. Amara's glowing fist smeared the one that tried going through the driver's side window, while FL4K's sniper bullet exploded another that jumped on the side. The two that managed to land on the bed stared as they saw a sweating, succulent Siren laying flat on her back and eating a candy bar, which was the last thing they ever saw as Krieg's giant hands came down on both their heads. "How are things *puff* sorry, how are things down there?" Lilith's wheezy, higher pitched every day voice came over Amara's head set. "Just a few million psychos," the ripped Siren smiled, "not much more than practice. How long until I turn?" "Half a mile," Lilith said, interrupted by the slurp of a milkshake loaded up with chemicals designed to make the calories go straight to her sagging gut and away from her ever shrinking boobs, "you can't miss it." Amara indeed, couldn't miss it. "It" was a big, glowing crater that had been punched through the cityscap with the Sanctuary IV's weapons array just before they'd teleported down. The air around it was still hot with the laser discharge, but the shields of the Vault Hunters prevented them from being burning. Amara gunned the engine down the glassed slope and through some scalded CoV scouts to find themselves at a shining Eridian structure, polished stones and strange metal statues staring back at them. "Oh damn, this is worse than I'd feared," Amara tut tutted, hoping athletically out through the window and raising her driver's shades, "Lilith, there's a problem." "What?" the obese general of the crimson raiders said back on the ship, looking up from an on ship menu and at the display beamed through Amaras sun glasses, "oh shit, stairs." The knees of the viewing fat girls all winced to see a long set of stairs going down, down and down. They were too steep and narrow to bring a truck down, or even Moze's mech suit. Once Maya had been helped down from the truck bed and Moze had sucked in her gut just enough to pop out of the turret, the group of mercenaries stared down at the bottomless spiral of stairs. "Maybe if we rig up some sort of what, can we digistruct an elevator?" Amara asked, guessing that this was a thousand foot drop or more. "No, there's no time," Maya wheezed, "I do have something better tough." The obese siren raised her hands, abundant arm fat hanging down, and closed her eyes. A blue sphere of energy wrapped around them, lifting the party of their feet and slowly, slowly falling down the chamber. Concern grew in everyone's stomachs as they saw sweat start pouring off Maya's brow and pooling in her breasts, the Siren hadn't exercised either super power or body recently and it was going to be a race between the rate of her stamina depletion and their rate of fall to see if they made it. But Maya lasted until they got to the very doors of the vault, resulting in a fall of only a few inches. Between the two of them, Krieg and Amara managed to catch the butter ball Siren, who could barely even breath she was so exhausted. Moze landed right on her rump and felt her sports bra go completely. Heavy, swollen breasts surged out painfully to slap against her gut and test the fabric of her thin shirt. Inch long nipples with tea cup areolas were clearly outlined in sweat and the mercenary hurriedly summoned her mech and scrambled floppily inside it before anyone could see. Amara was so focused on the sight of the ultra-chubby mercenary pulling herself into the mech that she almost missed Maya begin charging the Vault Key.

Chapter 6: Domination and Rebounding ‘Are you sure about this?’ asked Seserachad, trying to get one hundred eighty five pounds of doughy princess into a black leather corset made to hold fifteen pounds less. ‘Of course I’m sure my royal chubette,’ Rachel said, the mostly slim and very naked captain only jiggling moderately as she moved around the flabby girl and cinched her girdle up tight, ‘its necessary for the dominatrix role. You want to learn how to be in control don’t you?’ ‘Well…yes…I guess…’Seserachad answered, trying to breathe around the tighter than skin garment, ‘its just this is kind of tight…’ ‘And whose fault is that piglet?’ asked Rachel, putting a sailing knot onto the string and then pinching her girl’s soft rear, ‘you do nothing but eat and drink all day. If it weren’t for our lessons you’d be even chubbier.’ ‘I would…but you do feed me all the time…’Ses began, stopping when Rachel moved out of the way from the mirror. She caught a sight of herself in the luxurious mirror of Rachel’s cabin, barely recognizing her hefty form. The alchemical ritual had plumped up the once rail thin princess far past the point of curviness and into being downright fat, something the corset only accentuated despite it slimming down her rather large belly. Her lower belly muffin topped in the gap between torso and black lacy panty, which were themselves stretched out by Seserachad’s now child bearing hips and the low, wobbly cheeks that were her once pert buns. A pair of black high heels gave her legs a false impression of definition, despite the once lithe limbs growing thick and lazy, swallowing up her thigh gap and straining the black stockings she wore to the point that several rips had formed on them. Breasts that had grown into Ds, and fat, lazy Ds at that, were pushed up by the corset, for once eliminating their new sag. ‘You’re to be a queen dear,’ reminded Rachel, the only somewhat paunchy pirate hunter towering over her new lover, ‘and if you want to be more than a royal brood mare you’ll learn how to take charge. In the last week you’ve learned how to be stuffed, how I use my tongue to sign my initials on your clit and how to beg. Now you’re just going to do all of that on me, alright Ses?’ Seserachad wasn’t exactly sure she was ready for this, but was afraid of letting Rachel down. The taller woman had indeed taught her a lot in the past week, setting aside an hour a day for what the pirate hunter called ‘sex tutoring.’ Each tutoring lesson was held in Rachel’s surprisingly luxurious cabin during the evening, as now its shades were drawn and its doors were locked. That each session had ended with the best orgasms the previously chaste Princess had ever had had only served to further affix her affections on Rachel, despite the pirate hunter losing most of her glorious fat through alchemical means. A few days after drinking her concoction had been enough time for two hundred and fifty pounds of pure fat to disappear from Rachel’s body, leaving her somewhat chubby but no longer obese. Although not back to their impossibly perky form, the blonde’s tits were now manageably huge Gs instead of immeasurably huge dugs that went down to her waist. On another note, she actually had a waist, not the chiseled abs of a week ago, but at least only a small paunch that didn’t even sag. Rachel’s ass still wasn’t perfect, but nor was it so huge as to barely be recognizable, instead she had the somewhat overwide rear end of an athlete who had let herself go to seed. In the Captain’s own perspective, although she hated the excess flesh slowing her down, she was at least thin enough to exercise again without worrying about her heart giving out. Indeed, Rachel’s fit muscles hadn’t spent so long under fat as to turn to mush and she was still in better shape than almost anyone on her crew. Her runs weren’t quite as fast due to the extra weight she carried, but her long legs were no longer so thick as to get in their own way and she found her endurance untouched. Rachel’s arms might have been a little soft and wobbly, but the muscle beneath was still there and more than strong enough for pull-ups and were near as fast at sword play. A week of being only tubby meant that Rachel had already burned off five pounds and looked forwards to being back in superb fighting condition at the end of the month. Best of all, many of her clothes now sort of fit, although they were snug and her over large breasts and paunch meant that a few buttons had to go unsnapped. ‘Are you ready yet Ses?’ asked Rachel, sitting down on a stool in front of her bed and forcing a tight pair of crotchless panties up her only slightly chubby legs, before slipping into some knee high heeled boots, ‘ugh, still tight enough to give me a roll on my belly as yet. At least I can wear heels again without breaking an ankle, I hated feeling short.’ ‘But you were still taller than everyone…never mind,’ said Seserachad, failing to breathe deep as Rachel stopped lacing her boots and forced her jiggling tits into a lacy black nighty, mammary meat oozing over the top and sides. For a moment Seserachad’s mouth went dry at the literally titillating sight, before she swallowed and entered her role, breathing as deep as she could and stalking forwards, her plump hips sashaying widely as she did. ‘The safe word is Princess,’ Seserachad said, before seizing a hold of Rachel’s small but arousing tummy roll and giving it a sharp pinch, ‘what is all of this? I’d thought I was fucking beautiful, slender Rachel, not some fat slut pouring out of her lingerie. You must do nothing but drink grease all day, you fat, disgusting tub of lard!’ For half a second Rachel was shocked at the sudden barrage, but she recovered quick and fell into her agreed upon role, raising her voice an octave to whimper, ‘but I am Rachel my mistress, honest and truly!’ ‘Nonsense!’ Seserachad cried, fat fingers digging deep into Rachel’s soft belly, ‘Rachel is famous for her abs, you’ve got this flabby paunch! And look at these tits, Rachel’s so pert she doesn’t need a bra, you’re sagging even with one! I feel like I’ve got handfuls of pudding, not the firm chest of a heroine. Those over fed tatas are going to explode!’ ‘No, I am Rachel!’ the captain faintly protested, eyes crossing as Seserachad pinched her nipples, ‘I’ve just gotten a little out of condition…’ ‘Ha! A little out of condition, you’re a prize pig! Rachel wouldn’t let herself gain fifty pounds!’ the princess yelled, finding that the thrill of holding the whip hand was exhilarating, ‘Not even if I stuffed chocolate covered straw berries into her mouth, like this!’ The chocolate sauce on the fruit hadn’t been part of Rachel’s original plan, but it did add a dash of decadence to the evening she enjoyed. Although alarmed at the delay the candied fruit might have on regaining her figure, the Captain refused to break character, munching down two dozen large red berries, thickly coated with rich chocolate and whipped cream. It was important that Seserachad have control at the moment and Rachel had skipped dinner for the stuffing session. Letting herself enjoy the moment, she sighed and moaned at the combination of taste and Seserachad’s other hand rubbing her increasingly full stomach. ‘Please…no more…I’ll get fat…’Rachel pleaded falsely, chocolate sauce on her full lips. ‘You already are fat,’ Ses said with an evil grin, pushing Rachel back onto the luxurious bed from her stool, although it was more Rachel throwing herself backwards at the Princess’ urging, ‘now I’m going to make you fatter. Give me your hands pig!’ A loose, sloppy knot of fragile ribbon was tied around Rachel’s wrists, binding them to the bed’s headboard. In truth she could have broken it with a twitch, but instead she treated it as if it were steel and writhed as if she were captured. Seserachad straddled her, a thick brown thigh on either side of Rachel’s tanned hips and placed a basket full of more strawberries on the Captain’s slight belly. ‘I hope you’re ready to get huge, you sack of useless lard!’ the plump princess said, beyond horny at the amount of control she was exerting and placing a strawberry on Rachel’s lips. It was around this time that Bethany, two cabins down, finished her mis-targeted wish spell. Seserachad felt it first, as Rachel’s womanly hips began to rapidly expand, spreading the Princess’ straddling legs to the side against the tide of reaccumulating fat. The Princess was knocked forwards, her own plump crushing the fruit against the rapidly rising dome of Rachel’s returning gut. Tears and rips sounded out as the captain’s already snug boots, panties and nighty were shredded by her rebounding poundage: lacy panties became a thong and then were completely swallowed by rolls of belly fat and hemispheric ass cheeks, while the leather of her boots shattered before the pressure of thighs that were thick as Seserachad’s heavy waist. Rachel’s vast belly and its flanking love handles ripped the flimsy fabric of her nighty and the surging growth of her breasts tore the bra to scraps. A groan and then a crash sounded as several supporting boards inside the bed broke before their sudden burden. After only a few minutes Seserachad found herself no longer straddling a slightly paunchy, mostly fit beauty, but sitting awkwardly atop a mountain of huge woman flesh, inches away from a mammoth pair of breasts that rose and fall rapidly before her as a panicked Rachel started to hyper ventilate. Seeing the shock on her lover’s now jowly, cherubic face and realizing the detrimental effects such panic could have now that three hundred more pounds were on Rachel’s frame, Seserachad took quick action, grabbing a mostly whole strawberry and placing it quickly into Rachel’s mouth. ‘Are you fat enough yet, slut?’ Seserachad said, ‘now that you’ve stopped sucking in your belly, perhaps I’ll reward your honestly with an orgasm, if I can find your clit amidst all these rolls.’ ‘What are you talking about!?’ Rachel gasped, trying to focus on her girl’s voice, ‘look at me! I’m…I’m…’ ‘A fat whale, just like I said,’ snapped Seserachad with false harshness, ‘now is tubby going to take her orgasm like a good fatty, or will mistress need to find a crane so I can spank you?’ Confusion replaced panic for a moment, giving Seserachad time to act. Rachel’s genitals were in fact, hard to find buried as they were by the thick layer of her apron belly and snug between her tree trunk thighs. But Seserachad dug deep, burying her plump face and pushing up on the huge belly with her weak arms to reach it. Finally she found the fleshy bud and began gently nipping it, alternating between soft bites and rubbing her tongue across its surface. Rachel focused in on the arousal, repressing the fact that she had just doubled in size as Seserachad tongued her initials again and again onto the juicy peach of her vagina. The pleasure combined with the taste of chocolate on her tongue, the pleasant fullness of her belly and the way Seserachad’s plump fingers massaged her sensitive gut. A slow moving ripple worked its way up from her groin, the obese woman’s arching her back as much as she could to scream out her orgasm before collapsing back onto the bed, after shocks rumbling through her vast form as Seserachad’s eager tongue kept pressing. Several minutes later, the plump princess was pressed up against Rachel’s now cliff like side, looking positively svelte in comparison to her massive lover. She idly stroked the mountainous stomach before her, feeling deep into its multiple crevasses. In a moment she knew she’d need to start digging clothing shards from Rachel’s many rolls and begin the task of helping move her lover out of bed, but for now she merely gloried in being so close to her hot heaviness.