A Hunger to Fill the Void

(Disclaimer: Any acts of transformation, expansion, or mental altercation have been consented to by the owners of the characters affected. Any acts depicted are meant as explorations of the fetishistic psyche, hold artistic merit, and are compliant with the TOS of Patreon).

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“Purify!”

Faezwaht raised his longsword to the sky. He channelled his aether through the divine script written into the blade’s flat, and called down a beam of light to slay the winged eyeball attempting to gouge his throat. The smell of sizzling voidsent flesh made his stomach lurch. Even with the protective herbs and vial of mint extract around his neck for protection, he still felt ill.

There was one creature remaining. A hulking, one-horned beast which walked like a man, and wore a face like melted boot leather. It opened its winding, twisting mouth which extended past its lips and onto its throat, and roared for the death of the Paladin.

Faezwaht raised his shield. His combat partner, however, rushed past him. His fat feet pounding the cobblestones in a way that no man his size rationally could. He clapped his palms together, sent a prayer to his kami, and wreathed his knuckles in divine wind. With a flurry of blows he laid into the voidsent’s flesh, and sliced it apart with thousands of gale-force blades. The wind was on his side, and the voidsent bore a look of abject confusion, as it returned to the black aether it was made from.

“Faez, go! The sorcerer!” Roaring Typhoon cried out, his blue hair matted with blood and sweat. He collapsed to the floor, and supported himself on one knee.

Faezwaht took the initiative. He sprinted as fast as his pearly white platemail allowed. Blade pulled back, he dropped his shield and thrust out his left hand, accosting the summoner of the voidsent with another blast of holy aspected aether.

“And now, this ends!” He gripped his sword with both hands, stood his ground, and put his entire wait behind the finishing thrust. The sorcerer’s face was revealed to him as the hood fell back, and he saw the double-chinned face of a fat, corpulent madman who grinned almost as wide as his creation had. Faezwaht was overcome with the feeling that he had made a mistake, but it was too late.

The blade pierced the fat man, and his stomach split open like a balloon. A thick smog that smelled of oil and char poured out from his burst belly. It flooded Faezwaht’s mouth and open nostrils, and pushed inside his ears and through his very pores. He felt the dark aspected aether coursing through him, and just when it felt like he might burst, he lost consciousness.

That was two weeks ago.

Faez awoke, stripped of his sacred armour in an infirmary bed somewhere in Ishgard’s upper strata. Roar had apparently carried him from the square in the lower city where they fought the voidsent, but there had been no sign of the sorcerer. When Faez described what had happened, Roar insisted he be taken back to Kugane where the sumo fighter insisted he had friends who should take a look at Faez’s status. He talked at length about aether balance, and things which Faez dismissed as superstitions. He had awoken, just fine, fit and healthy. Clearly his own “internal balance” worked just fine, and had cleared up whatever malady the sorcerer inflicted on him without a problem.

The two of them took a walk at the end of the two weeks Faez had spent in the infirmary. He had to leave his Paladin’s armour and sword behind, he still felt too weak to carry them with him, but Roar promised they would be delivered to his residence with the utmost urgency.

“How do you feel?” Roar asked tacitly, already partly aware of the answer, Faez surmised.

“Without going over the aches and pains, I just feel hungry. Is it alright if we stop somewhere to eat? I’m starving.”

Roar managed to locate a simple eatery. He had a knack for finding places with good food. He ordered himself fried chicken cutlets, and a bowl of their famous stew. Faez did the same, but something told him that wouldn’t be enough, so he doubled his order.

When the food came, and the realization of just how much food he ordered hit Roar, the sumo frowned. “Are you sure you’re going to eat all of that?”

Faez stared at the food in a trance. Like it was the first, and last meal of his life. Like he had just discovered the concept of food, and it was this shiny, majestic thing he ‘had’ to embrace. He stabbed the sliced cutlets by the threes, like skewered kebabs, and dunked them in the gravy boat containing the sauce they were served with. He shoved everything into his mouth with such aggression, that it looked like his cheeks might burst like food-filled balloons!

“Faez!?”

The Paladin kept assaulting his plate until he decided the fork was getting in his way, and threw it away. It rattled on the stone floor of the restaurant. Faez kept stuffing himself, until his toned belly bulged. He slathered sauce and grease over his crisp linen shirt as he tore it open at the belly. “Too tight, need to breathe.” Which seemed contrary, it seemed like there was no way he could possibly take in air at the same time as the food he wedged into his mouth.

Roar, horrified, took a step backwards. Faez reached across the table and ate his friend’s portion, too. When he was done, he rose and his eyes were black as pitch. “More,” he said.

Faez reached into his pocket and threw gold at a table full of diners, at least eight of them, each having just been presented with their own meal. He growled at them, “take the money, leave, I need to feast.” Faez grabbed at the leg of a roast chicken at the centre of the circle table, ripped it free of the carcass, and sucked the meat off the bone in one motion.

Faez couldn’t stop himself. His muscular body disappeared. He grew fatter, and fatter. Like some invisible force had fed a pump directly into his belly, and was depositing gallons upon gallons of heavy cream to make him swell. His breeches pulled tight, as his ass cheeks ballooned like two symmetrical hot air balloons covered by fabric, and were locked in a desperate fight for space. He continued to wet his shirt, and his chest, with sauces, grease, oil and mead as he annihilated everything in his way.

“Bigger, bigger, I need to feast until... until I can... fill... the void!” Faez was in a trance. He was aware of it, he could probably have stopped it. But the flavours were so strong. His tastebuds sang to him a story of all the greatest foods he had already gorged on, and urged him to discover the flavours he had yet to experience. In newer, more fattening combinations.

Faez’s white shirt was a transparent, greasy, and food stained rag which hung from his shoulders. He grew steadily taller with every bite, but he never became longer than he was wide. He caressed his sensitive, overblown moobs, and let out a belch that rattled his table-crushing belly. He had surpassed the immense size of his sumo friend, and he laughed, imagining just how many multitudes bigger he would be by the day’s end.

He slowly turned, gut dragging on the ground, ass ripping free of his breeches, to look at Roaring Typhoon. “Roar...” Faez said, surrounded by a terrible, gluttonous aura. “I’m so HUNGRY.”