Undertaker33

*Important Newsletter* Pausing Billing for April

Hey, all. I wanted to give an update regarding the upcoming month.

Quick explanation: Billing will be postponed for the month of April. Stories, pictures, and other content will still be posted, but nobody should be billed for the upcoming month.

I’ve mentioned in the Discord a few times, but I’ve spent most of March as sick as a dog (likely due to agitating my chronic bronchitis with renovations at the new house). I’ve managed to keep up on a number of art projects, collabs and prompts and some other such things, but I’ve not spent nearly enough time with my own documents as I’d have liked.

You folks have been wonderful supporters, and I’m not about to submit bills when I know I haven’t been able to work in a good enough state. Lord knows I have enough problem coming up with ideas for the Patrons’ Prompt myself sometimes :^D

I’ve gotten some very nice well wishes from folks already, and I really appreciate that. It’s hard to talk about how… frustrating, things have been regarding this illness. I don’t like sounding like a broken record and complaining all the dang time about how messed up it makes me feel. I just wanna write.

Thank you to you all for your support. I’ll be uploading a few things over the next few days that I think you folks will enjoy, and I hope that the next month can bring some exciting chapters to our stories!

And, as always, thanks for reading!

Kiss Me I'm BROKE!

It's a good thing that cuties in green get a few free drinks considering that belt-bursting belly has already broken the bank of our big bounty hunter!

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Another year, another Irish Cutie pic for Saint Patrick's Day! I decided on having Samus done for this go around, using the size she's written in Hunter's Labor and The Bounty of Peace and including both an Irish Cutie and a more standard celebration pic! 

You can check out all of those stories on the public gallery, here: https://www.deviantart.com/undertaker33/gallery/73510538/metroid-the-bounty-of-peace

And, of course, follow Rtil for even more lovely arts!! They've just done a bit of restructuring on Patreon, so give them a watch for their new updates!

https://www.patreon.com/rtil

https://twitter.com/rtil?s=21&t=W9PC3VJJZRjKoQNDatNjxA

Lastly, a huge thank you to my boy Blasty for helping me do a few tweaks and edits to make sure these pics looked as best they could be! ^^ Happy Saint Patrick's Day!

Itsuki’s Substitution 2

Where on Earth was that substitute?

Coach Juri Kanashimi looked down at her wrist. It was nearly ten minutes past, and Nakano still wasn’t here! Yuuka had texted when the girl had stopped by the rec room to pick up her clothes, but that was nearly eight minutes ago.

Juri lifted her hands over her head to let out her frustration as a stretch and a breath. It was obvious that Vice Principal Hoshiakari’s idea had been far too enthusiastic, which of course meant that you could expect things to go at least a little awry, but eight minutes just to get changed? What, was she taking a pre-workout shower?

Nakano had to be somewhere in the department. Maybe she went out the wrong entrance and ended up in the pool. Or maybe, more likely, the clothes didn’t fit the overfed redhead… Juri didn’t know Nakano, but she certainly knew of her.

Everyone knew about Hachinomori’s waddling pastry-woman. At track meets, other coaches had asked Juri if the rumors were true, or if Hoshiakari had somehow contracted a bipedal piglet who could teach English class.

But… Juri was in no place to judge another’s ability based on their physical appearances. After all, if she was in such a good space, she could have already started class rather than sitting on her butt and staring at the clock on her phone…

The most likely answer was usually the most obvious. Nakano was probably one of those princessly-types. She could very well be having one of those nervous episodes that those softies got when they’re forced to do anything outside of their normal routine. Juri had a hard time imagining a girl plumping herself up to the size of a two-bedroom apartment with a strong adaptability and an ironclad will…

“Ugh…” she muttered. “I sound like my sister…”

Checking her phone for the fifth time in two minutes, Juri quickly shot off a text before dropping the phone in her lap and turning to the soft hubbub of her mingling students.

“Alright!” she called over their heads. “Form up your rows! Come on. We’re gonna start. Class leaders to the front!”

The leaders of the fifth and sixth grade classes eagerly popped up and came to the front, but the third graders seemed to have forgotten who they had elected before a small girl with dirty-blonde hair hurried up to join the other two, stumbling over her untied shoes and quickly panting, “I’m here! I’m here, Coach Kanashimi! I didn’t forget!”

“Right...” Juri turned to the eldest of the leaders, a boy with dark hair and darker eyes that were just smart enough that you could tell he regretted ever volunteering for this position. “Jun, you’ll be leading the others in stretching exercises. Okay? Do you all remember what they are?”

“We do them every day,” Jun shrugged.

“It’s the butterfly lunges and then the bunny kicks!” the little girl called.

Juri nodded. “I’m going to check on our assistant and see where she’s at.”

The three leaders bowed in unison and then went to the three Xs which marked their spots at the head of their respective class. A much larger red X, the one normally occupied by Juri’s assistant, was left empty.

“Side stretches! Seven seconds!” the leaders called. “Ready? Begin!”

Juri passed them by, circling around the gymnasium’s edge and moving towards the staff lockers. Maybe Nakano hadchickened out. Or… turkied out. Or piggied.

Whatever they called you when you carried more fat than protein.

Still, Hoshiakari had vouched for the girl… If nothing else, that had earned some slight leeway. Though now Juri wondered whether that vouching was supposed to be an acknowledgement of Nakano’s willpower, or if it was the older woman’s silent affirmation to the necessity of this little stunt.

The brunette wasn’t good at this crap. Hidden meanings, convenient happenstances, it was all a bit too Machiavellian for her nowadays. At thirty-years-old, Juri’s once-sharp tongue had been blunted into the shape of a hammer. A little bit dull, but honest and straightforward, and it made for far easier a life than her old job had been. Frankly, she preferred this life. That blunt edge is what made teaching kids fun, and it made her a good coach.

If mom had wanted her tubbiest daughter to get a good workout, she should just say so.

Allowing herself a mental shrug, Juri rolled up to the staff locker, reached for the handle, and came up short when she heard a husky whisper hiss through the door’s small crack, “Can’t you suck it in??”

“I am! Don’t you have a bigger entrance?! What about the double doors??”

“That’s on the other side of the gym, you nit!”

Juri paused, hand still on the handle. More noises came, meatier noises that sounded like exertion twinged with high-pitched gasps of chubby pain, and quite suddenly she remembered thinking once that the partition that separated the staff locker from the gymnasium was rather… thin.

“Hnnnmmmfff… T-t-tight, tight!”

“Turn the other way! It’s like moving a couch!”

“I am not a couch!”

The gym coach blushed.

She looked over her shoulder to see several students were looking in her direction while they stretched, then turned back when the doorway gave another angry grunt and a startled yelp.

Taking her phone from her pocket, she quickly opened up the messaging application before typing and sending it off. ‘Everything okay?’

From behind the door, she heard Yukka’s merry ringtone.

“You’re late.”

“I know I’m late! *Glah…!* Why is everything in this department so tiny?!”

“Why are you so big?!?!?”

Juri coughed, and the doorway abruptly became silent. Behind her, she could hear the leaders call “Butterfly kicks! Fifty seconds! Ready? Begin!”

“Miss Nakano, can you hear me?” she asked, quietly.

“Y-yes… Hello.”

“Hi.”

“She’s stuck, Juri,” she heard Yuuka’s voice, punctuated by the popping of the slight girl’s bubblegum.

Juri wiped at her eyes. The already wide picture that her mind carried of Itsuki Nakano grew several hundred pounds heavier as she tried to remember how much the doorway would reveal of the tight passage. “If I open up this door, would the students be able to see you?” she asked.

“Umm… I don’t… think so…”

“Okay. I’m going to come in.”

She waited a moment, listening to the awkward shuffling and a quick but heated back and forth of whispers that might have come from a pair of young schoolgirls behind her rather than the two supposed adults just beyond. Then, she pulled open the door and rolled through it.

“Oh…… Oh, dear.”

In a scene that wouldn’t look out of place in Wonderland (with an Alice that had eaten far, far, far too many cakes), a girl that was as red as her hair looked to be suffocating between the gymnasium and the privacy walls. A veritable giantess of blubber, Nakano’s gut and her rear were flattened against either surface, and the progress she’d made had tugged at her shirt and plucked at her shorts, doing little favor for her obese decency.

A muffintop of purest white dough, a buttshelf that was larger than a pair of truck tires, so many curves that were undeniably female were topped by what Juri instinctively thought of as corded rope before realizing it was an immense double braid of luscious red hair.

“Hello,” Nakano blushed. An attempt was made at plucking her shirt from a creased love handle. It failed. “It’s n-nice to meet you. Miss Kanashimi.”

Juri blinked. She wondered if she was seeing double, or maybe quintuple! It took a long time for her eyes to look over the girl’s immensity, her mind struggling to discern that the label of giantesswas completely incorrect.

Nakano was not tall. She was standing on her tiptoes, as if her body were fighting for every single centimeter of space, abusing her verticality because there just wasn’t room. If she hopped, she’d probably stick.

Juri probably would have said something extremely intelligent, like ‘Uhhh,’ or ‘Wow…’ but both she and Nakano were saved from that awkward impression by a light clap that came from behind the behemoth as a pair of hands topped the privacy wall.

“Hnnngh!” grunted Yuuka, her light sneakers kicking the wall as she hoisted herself up. She came over it easily, sitting atop to glare past Nakano’s fatty blockade and prodding the stuck girl with her shoe. “I don’t think she’ll fit.”

“You’ve already said that…” Nakano pouted.

Yuuka, as spunky as ever, rolled her eyes and continued snapping at her bubblegum. “Well, what do you want me to do? Push you?”

“Oh, God. No.”

Juri cleared her throat. “That’s quite unnecessary,” she said over her two juniors. “Nakano, can you… wiggle your way out, or something?”

Nakano’s blush turned brighter and her legs wibbled. It made Juri realize that her thighs had muffintops. They even had love handles, with piles of fat puffing over the tops of her knees and even her shoes.

“M-maybe out… the other way…” she panted even after her momentary struggle.

“That would be preferable. You can come around to the gymnasium’s main entrance, where the students come in at the start of classes.”

“Alright…” Tides of chub washed against white stone as she began the arduous task. It was too fatty and firm to truly merit such a liquid comparison, but Nakano’s massive curves invoked the slopes of a globe and its massive seas…

Or maybe that was the bright colored gym clothes… At least the dolphin seemed to be enjoying the width of its landscape.

“Yuuka,” she said, “I need you to get dressed too. We’re gonna need your help as well.”

“What?!? No way!” the small girl declared. “I’m just on rec room!”

“Well lock the rec room, and get your butt in uniform. I’m going to need both of you.”

“H-here, take my arm,” Nakano offered her wrist up to Yuuka.

The little dark-haired girl glowered down at the chubby wrist. “You want me to pull you?? What if you fall on me?”

Juri closed her eyes, let out a strained breath, spun, and exited the door.

She came back to the front of the class as the leaders had the students finish their high lunges, which was the final for the midmorning stretches before the short two laps around the gym. She got back to her normal position and blew her whistle as they finished, gave a shout and a signal for the cardio warmup, and then leaned back and tried not to think about corks and champaign bottles, and instead focused on how the hell she was meant to deal with the upcoming lesson.

******************************************************************************

It took Nakano five minutes to unlogged herself and to circle the gym, longer than it had taken several students to complete their two laps.

Luckily, for both Nakano and Juri, third-grade girls tend to run like baby seals, so they were only finishing their first when the beefy redhead lumbered through the wide double doors and thudded across the wooden floors to stand besides Juri.

It couldn’t have been an easy five minutes. Tiny droplets of sweat marked her fat double chin, but she managed not to gasp or wheeze, which was already better than Juri’s redefined expectations.

After a few moments of husky breathing Nakano murmured, “Wasn’t quite the… introduction, I was hoping for.”

Juri “That’s alright,” Juri replied, keeping her eyes on the students. “Nobody has a good first day. I’m sure Yuuka is just as ruffled.”

“Hmm…” Nakano puttered, as if disbelieving. Another moment passed before she asked, “Umm, you’re Coach Kanashimi, yes?”

Juri smirked. “That’s what they wrote on my whistle,” she joked before her hands went down to the arms of her seat. “They wrote it on my wheelchair too, just so I wouldn’t forget.”

Nakano brightened further. “I-I wasn’t gonna mention-”

Juri waved an easing hand, this time fully spinning her seat to look up to her assistant. “It’d be dumb not to,” she chuckled. “This is kind of a physical job.”

The gym coach had spent a few years now growing familiar with nervous expressions and flicking eyes. It was rude to stare, sure, but you had to get used to it when you’re missing one leg and stuck in a chair.

She’d made a few changes to the traditional coach uniform, including a black sports jacket inscribed with ‘Head Coach’ across the back and choosing to wear track pants instead of the usual shorts. The knotted leg always caught peoples’ attention, but she’d much rather rip off that bandage of awkward courtesy than meander in circles of well-intended pleasantries.

“You’re Nakano, right? Teach second-grade English?”

“Yes!” the big woman said, seeming to get a bit more bounce to her step, which translated to a big wobble through her belly. “You can call me Itsuki, if you’d like. It always feels strange to have my superiors refer to me with the same level of respect.”

“Heh. Superior, huh?” Juri asked. “Most other teachers look down on us who only teach gym. If that’s the case, you can call me Juri. But it’s probably best if we keep things formal in front of the students, don’t you think?”

“O-oh…” Itsuki chuckled, brushing a red lock of hair back from her pink blush. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m not really used to working directly with other teachers.”

“You’re doing fine,” Juri lied, but only just a little. Itsuki could be doing much better, but she seemed like a pleasant enough girl and was clearly out of her element. She could be doing far worse.

At that, the door to staff lockers thudded open and out marched Yuuka, arms crossed and feet thudding, still chomping on her beloved bubblegum. It must be hard to pull off a scowl with a mouth full of sugar, but the raven-haired girl was nothing if not willful.

To Itsuki, Juri asked, “You’ve already met Yuuka, I assume?”

“We… didn’t exchange names…”

Juri let out a light laugh. “Yeah, that tracks. You’ll have to excuse my baby sister. She means well, but she’s a lot friendlier when she’s sitting with her feet up on her desk.”

“Heh… Sounds relatable… Wait, sister?”

“Mhmm,” Juri nodded.

Their hushed conversation came to an end as Yuuka approached, though a bubble of laughter threatened to rise from Juri’s lungs when she noticed that her sister’s resigned stomps were somehow quieter than the soft-but-strong *Doom* that came from Nakano simply shifting her weight from one trunk-sized-leg to the other.

“Thank you for joining us,” she inclined her head. “We both really appreciate your assistance.”

“Yes. Thank you for your assistance, Miss Kanashimi.”

Yuuka lifted a dark eyebrow, looking from Itsuki’s inclined double chin to the belly that threatened to swallow her shorts. She looked as if she was about to say something, but a cough from Juri bought a flicked glare and a polite bow. “Yeah, my pleasure,” she replied. “I’ve had to help out before. Juri’s always asking me to lend my feet.”

All of the color blanched out of Nakano’s face. The pink from her cheeks, the peachy color of her skin. With her white shirt and red hair, the girl resembled a massive serving of vanilla ice cream coated with a thick cherry sauce, only held form by the circular bowl that was her overtaxed shorts. She looked between the two girls, her eyes notably flicking towards Juri’s right stump, which made Juri’s chuckle feel nice and warm.

“As I said. You’ll have to excuse her,” she said grinning, then turned that grin straight to Yuuka. “She hasn’t quite realized yet that I can still beat the crap out of here, even with only one leg.”

“Spooky,” Yuuka said flatly, popping another bubble with her gum. Nodding towards the assembling students, she asked, “Have they already done stretches?”

Juri turned to watch as the last heard of panting baby seals tumbled across the finish line, gasping for air. Most of the students had already recovered and were now standing closer to the head coach and her lovely assistants, so Juri made the willful decision not to kick her sister in the shin and then beat her with her chair.

“Ahh, alright. Guess we already got our warmup in,” Yuuka said, tapping Itsuki on the elbow to get her attention and then pointing towards the right side of the giant red X. “You take up there, and I’ll take the left side. The three class leaders will each be at the head of each class, and the rest just follow our lead.”

“Our lead???” Itsuki asked. “W-what are we doing?”

“Jumping jacks.”

Juri didn’t think that Nakano could go any whiter, but the pile of vanilla ice cream became the snowy white of powdered sugar. Then it all came back as a rush of pink and a laborious breath, a blush so bright that it took over her whole face. “I-I haven’t done jumping jacks since…”

She tapered off, blue eyes looking down towards her own massive heft. She seemed to be looking at herself, as if trying to remember the size that she was when she was last in a gymnasium.

It had to be a long, long, long, long, long time ago.

Juri, rolling to her position between them, blew her whistle and called, “Class leaders, form up!”

The three children from earlier hurried up to their positions. The third-grade leader, the little girl who Juri noticed had been the last student to finish their run, came huffing and puffing up to the small X in front of Nakano’s left side and chirped, “Hi, Ms. Nakano!”

“Hello, Miss Sumei. How have your studies been going?”

“Great!” she said. “I’m class leader this semester!” Then, in a whisper that could be heard from Mars, she hissed, “Don’t worry. I hate gym class too!”

Juri had been mid-whistle, which made her sputtering cough all the worse. She tried to keep the blush from her own face as she said over the class, “Twenty-five jumping jacks! Ready? Begin!”

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*Whump!*

*THOOM!!*

*Whump…!!*

*THOOM!!!*

“Hoogh… hoogh… hooogh…!”

*… Whump!!!*

Nobody laughed. A few of the older students stared, leaning or standing on tiptoes to try and see over their classmates. Some people looked disgusted. More looked fascinated, wearing the same expression that Juri had seen worn on the face of dozens of recruits the first time that they’d watched a real tank roll past them on the base.

Juri had seen plenty of heavy armaments slowly roll by. She’d even had the chance to fire a few of them. She had believed she was made of sterner stuff, but even her bearing began to break apart as Yuuka loudly counted the class to number twenty, and Nakano expelled a desperate breath that sounded somewhat like the number five.

The head coach slowly turned towards the third-grade class…and then she forgot herself, instead watching openly as Nakano’s massive heft throbbed, her belly leapt, her legs separated, and the woman made of sugar and piles of pale dough spread arms covered in more fat than Juri had in her entire body tried to make a point above the butterball’s strand of cherry red hair.

She hopped again, coming all of two centimeters from the floor. From this angle, Juri couldn’t tell if Nakano’s thighs were even capable of separating, but they certainly responded to being smashed together with such absolute force, just as her chest responded to her tiny hop with a slap that reminded Juri of practicing hits wearing boxing gloves.

Up, down. Spread, condensed. Juri watched in fascination.

But she only had half the picture.

From the front, the student body saw their assistant coaches side by side and, though each girl was similar in height, though each girl wore the same shirt and the same pants with the same winking dolphin stretched over their chest, and even though Ituski’s twin locks of voluminous red hair were much alike Yuuka’s pigtails, not a person in that room could truly compare them.

It was as if they were a completely separate species. Up, down, the noise and the pumps, the wheezes and thumps, the women on their right couldn’t be human, and that made the smaller girl seem almost alien as well. The way that their chests hopped, the way their hips bounced and their mouths moved, they were liked stuffed animals. Teddy bears, one of which had been underfed, the other having been far overfluffed and was now threatening to rip at the seams as each hop of fresh hell exposed more of her belly and tugged down her blue shorts.

Juri blinked several times before realizing that Yuuka had stopped counting. She loudly blew her whistle, and the group came to a stop. It took a few extra second for Itsuki to finish her last explosive puff, her thighs and her cankles wobbling beneath the final *THOMPF* from her stomach’s impact.

“Class leaders,” Juri said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as tight as she felt, “Retrieve your carts. The rest of you, if you need to use the bathroom or get some water, do so now. We’ll begin with today’s activity in three minutes.”

“Yes, Head Coach!” most of the class said.

A few of the class only seemed to notice they’d been momentarily dismissed after the others started moving. They began to hurriedly break off into their small groups or take their seats on the floor where they’d be reassembled, while a few quickly scampered off towards the bathrooms or the water fountains.

Yuuka stood where she’d finished breathing lightly with her hands on her waist. She looked slightly winded, which Juri expected from her lazy baby sister, but was otherwise fine.

Itsuki was holding a hand over her chest, flexing against her mountainous breast as if she could somehow feel her heartbeat through the absolute avalanche of fat that covered her center.

She was covered in sweat, her skin glowing an irritated pink in several placed that made Juri wonder if her fat had somehow stretched her skin further and caused the massive woman some amount of pain. Her bangs dripped with sweat, her pink cheeks glowing as she breathed in and out, and Juri fought the urge to offer the woman her chair.

She wondered if she should say anything to the woman, after all, Nakano hadn’t said anything in complaint and was still standing as straight as she seemed to be able to. She considered wheeling over to her to tell her she’d done a good job when she noticed a pair of tiny legs that were mostly hidden behind Itsuki’s bulk and she heard the third-grad leader whisper in her obscenely loud confidence, “That’ll do, pig.”

“G-go… kart… Sumei” Itsuki wheezed.

“Okay!”

Then the small girl scampered away after the two other leaders, and Juri slowly came to Nakano’s side.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Think… dying…” the creampuff huffed. “Other than that… Pretty okay…” she looked down and to the side at Juri and might have lifted her cheek in a slight grin. “It’s not the heaviest workout… I’ve had this week…”

Juri lifted an eyebrow and, whether it was through exhaustion or just due to the hyped sense of adrenaline that must have been swirling inside of Itsuki like the fat in her gut, the fat woman laughed.

“My boyfriend and I,” she said, wobbling from side to side and kicking out each of her legs, stretching. “It’s a lot harder than… jumping… a few times.”

Juri squinted in confusion at the young woman’s cheerful chubbiness. Then, her eyes went very wide. They looked directly at eye-level, where Itsuki’s muffining gut smothered the waistband of her shorts in totality, and then they grew wider.

“How can you even-” she began, then looked around and quickly tugged at Itsuki’s shirt. The woman, evidently unable to see past her own chest and shoulders, hadn’t noticed her tee slipping up and grew several shades brighter as she took over and adjusted herself. “S-sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I should not have said that.”

“I’m more just impressed that…” Juri began, then shook her head.

“Impressed by what? She didn’t even do half of what we were supposed to.”

Itsuki groaned, turning to acknowledge the frowning Yuuka. “I did… what I could,” she said, brushing a sweaty bang back from her face.

“Yeah, well, I hope you’re gonna try harder for the activity,” Yuuka said, nodding towards the returning class leaders. “I suck at these, and I don’t think Juri’s about to hop up and volunteer.”

Itsuki blinked at the other assistant, then turned towards the approaching leaders as they began to go up and down the rows handing out jump ropes.

Patrons' Prompt FBF: A Lesson in Shapes

The sphere fits in the square hole, not the rectangle hole!

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This story artwork was suggested and voted for by my wonderful patrons, and pairs with the Five Buns Full: Itsuki's Substitution series! Thank you very much for your chubby suggestions, and follow this link below to the DA Gallery where all the Five Buns Full stories and arts are eventually published, and check out Itsuki's Substitution 2, which is going up at the same time as this!

https://www.deviantart.com/undertaker33/art/FBF-Itsukis-Substitution-1-943142834

The artwork was done by wonderful friend and frequent collaborators, Better-With-Salt! Please make sure to follow them and to check out all of their other arts over on Patreon and Deviantart!

https://www.patreon.com/bws/posts

https://www.deviantart.com/better-with-salt

The characters are Itsuki Nakano and a story original character, Yuuka Kanashimi!

Contest Entry 4: Take Responsibility

Heya, it's been a hot minute since I could post another story for the contest! I've finally managed to dedicate some good review time to a fourth entry, and the author and I were able to get this submission fully fleshed out! 

While they would rather remain anonymous for this contest, this author proves they have heaps of skill! Their writing contains a great sense of movement, weight, and can really lean into the princessly elements that perfectly befit a plump and well-fed redhead! 

I especially enjoy the chubby introspection here, where plump fingers poke at a stuffed-but-soft waist. The story is very alluring, with an ending that manages to be both sensual and just heartwarming to read!

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Miku woke up Saturday the same way many young adults did.

Poorly rested and well past noon. Not that she knew the exact time…

It had been a groggy awakening, blue eyes blinking blearily at a dark gray ceiling that was mostly maintained by the bedroom’s blackout drapes. Her nose itched, her eyes begged to be closed. Through the jungle of messy red hair that covered her face, she watched her ceiling fan spin round and round in a lazy fashion.

Miku hadn’t set an alarm for herself all week and she wasn’t planning on changing that until she went back to work in two days.

Back to work in two days.

The redhead blinked her sleepy eyes. They focused on a strand of her bangs, a thick tuft that was still tickling her nose. Rather than banish it, she continued to stare at it.

Greasy…

She needed a shower.

She needed a nap.

She needed to get the heck out of bed.

The lightheaded redhead closed her eyes, mustering the will to get herself up and off the mattress. It took a bit longer than she’d like to admit, but she felt her fingers close on the sheet, felt herself take on a last hefty breath of fresh air and quickly sat up…!

*Arouughh*

“Ooouuuurrrrrggggg… bleh…”

…or at least tried to, before a sudden bellyache made her contemplate remaining where she was. Just a bit longer.

Potato chips and cola sloshed about in their flabby container, mixing poorly with the sleeve of cookies she just had to talk herself into eating. Tentatively, a hand slid under the comforter to a distinctly visible lump to give it a placating rub.

“Looks like you can add ‘just a handful’ to your list of broken promises…” the girl groused. The small, careful circles she made with her hand were far better than any antacid, but was far more embarrassing as a tradeoff.

The first time Miku had been hungover, the experience had been so awful that, from then on, she took care to pace herself when out drinking with her coworkers. That and… other changes, ensured she did not imbibe more than she could tolerate.

And yet, despite her gut feeling like a roiling, bubbling cauldron every time she overate like this, she continued to do it over and over… and over… and over.

What a troublesome paradox.

Speaking of troublesome, her tummy seemed soothed enough by her ministrations for Miku to at least attempt to get up again. Carefully, so as not to upset the delicate state of the vat of empty calorie she had strapped to her waist, the girl pushed her legs to the side while lifting the covers off with the other, right hand never leaving her gut.

Her gut.

She had a gut.

Not a pleasantly plump little pot belly, not a portly paunch. Miku was rubbing her overfed, ‘sticks out further than her chest,’ gut.

The awkward lift came with a crinkling of wrappers, like how the ruffling of foliage announced the arrival of an elephant. She could feel its doughy warmth spread across her thighs, plopping fatly in her lap and, as she completed the lift, starting the journey between her legs like a heavy drop of cream.

It announced its displeasure with another burbly *Ruuumg* that forced the glutton to stifle a belch before releasing it as a hot-tasting *Hoooughhh…” Her hand returned to her plumpness which, even in the midst of digesting last night’s binge, was still soft to the touch, plumping around Miku’s fingers as if the surface were made of quicksand.

Though a thin beam of afternoon sun peeked through the curtains, it was still too dark to see much and the temptation to keep it that way was palpable.

Even if her regretful reflection was nothing she hadn’t seen already.

Miku rubbed the last of the pesky sleep from her eyes and let out a big, opened mouth yawn that sounded more like a broken car engine than a noise a young woman should make.

“Every day, I become a little bit more like Ichika,” she grumbled.

Her bare feet touched the floor and she attempted to heave herself up.

She seemed to be attempting a lot of things today…

Perhaps it was due to a desire to lie back on the pile of comfortable pillows she’d been reclining against, or perhaps the young woman’s sense of self had been warped by peaceful dreams of thinner days. Either way, Miku found her body wasn’t responding as quickly as she wanted it to.

‘Or maybe a bit more like Nino…’

With a huff of effort, Miku rocked in place a bit to build the proper momentum, standing up no longer a thoughtless action for her. There was too much heft clinging to every inch of her.

A louder thud signaled that the chubby sweetheart had managed to shift her weight to the floor. The excess adipose fell victim to gravity as she practically peeled herself off the bed using one of the posts as leverage. A last great heft, the final push of her legs off the mattress, and the girl thundered down onto her feet, the impact jiggling her like a wobbly plate of strawberry flan, all the way from her chubby toes all the way to her plump cheeks.

At least you’re standing now…

“Not for long if this keeps up,” she hissed glumly, giving a sad little pat to her well-fed middle that soon transitioned into a thoughtful rub. She could feel herself more than hear it now, the bloated pang of overstretched skin… or could she hear it? A certain sloshy mix, if she swayed from side to side just right…?

Bracing herself, Miku carefully pulled the blinds apart as sunlight was allowed into her little womancave. The mirror she had placed on the door to her domicile helped the natural light flood into the room.

It would also let her assess the damage she’d done, if she was brave enough to meet its fierce gaze.

Today was one of those days and after only a moment’s hesitation, she began to walk towards the mirror.

She again noted that whisper, that sloshy sensation, and realized then that she was waddling. The soft result of her limbs mushing together, an awkwardness she felt down in her knees. This realization caused her to nearly falter on her approach, internally cursing herself and the pressure she felt upon the floorboards beneath her, but it was harder to stop than it was to continue, and the girl waddled up to reality with legs like pudding and a dread like lead.

Six heavy footfalls and she was face to face with cold, hard reality.

Or warm and soft reality in this case.

Just about the only things that hadn’t changed about her were her eyes. Still as beautiful and shimmering as those of her mother and siblings.

Though the slight bags from stress, exhaustion and overwork were certainly new…

“Unpleasant truths,” Miku mused quietly. “Let the mirror reveal all.”

Tiny and hard to notice though the circles were, they sprang from the same source that was responsible for the myriad of more… substantial changes.

Her hair was stringy and greasy. Filled with split ends, it clumped together in strands rather than flow past her shoulders like a natural waterfall. Not helping matters was that she had grown it out more, all the way down her back, making the unkempt mess look almost as bad as her noisy gut felt.

At least it could hide the fleshiness of her face, long and wild as it was now. At work, where she was forced to keep it in a neat bun, the newfound plumpness in her cheeks was left full on display.

Poking her soft chin, she recalled a warning from her sister, Ichika. ‘Once you put on facial weight, it’s all over. No amount of sweat and tears can burn that off!’

Miku found herself glaring fiercely at the memory, and then found that her glare only served to make her face look even more softened. She certainly hoped that her bulging double chin wasn’t as noticeable as it appeared…

Experimentally, she probed it with her fingers which thankfully hadn’t yet thickened. Probably…

Hopefully…

She’d have noticed that, right?

She wasn’t that fat.

Even if she did have two chins now.

It was a bit surprising to Miku that she had gotten so heavy in the face. She had expected… Well, she didn’t know what she expected. She certainly hadn’t expected to become so…

Her eyes drifted down, down, and they looked over the worst of the areas. The whitest, the flabbiest, the doughiest, roundest, butter-and-sugar-and-cookie-packed fattiest parts of her body… the bottom-heavy fatty that she’d turned herself into.

Miku knew what she had expected.

She had expected that she’d never be forced into a waddle. But even a slight wiggle made her hips and her thighs and her fatty gut wobble.

The girl was being unfair. It wasn’t as if her chest had been snubbed, she’d burst buckles on several of her faithful old bras, but it was hard to compare the ripened melons on her chest to the church bell of blubber that her hips had become. Her chub clearly had a preference, and whether it was her age or genetics or her sedentary lifestyle, one thing was certain.

Miku was on pace to outgrow her entire wardrobe.

She couldn’t wear pants, her thighs would rub the fabric raw. She couldn’t wear leggings for a similar reason, not that anyone even made them in her generous size. It was skirts and dresses, but skirts had clasps or buttons to burst, and dresses weren’t built to withstand the jiggly heft of her rear and gut. Any vertical seam would be subjected to endless strain, the pincer attack of plushness from the war on two fronts!

A sudden distraction, Miku stopped watching her hips wibble and blinked up at herself, noticing another object in the mirror just over her shoulder. The wall scroll that was proudly displayed over her bed gestured gently from her ceiling fan’s wind, and the chubby girl found herself letting out a soft, pleased, giggle.

A war on two fronts. Who said she wasn’t living like a Sengoku era warrior?

“Move like a thunderstorm…” she read from the scroll, letting her eyes drop back to her lovehandles and where a war of marshmallow had claimed her thigh gap, “…indeed.”

She’d refused to stop wearing proper bottoms, before. A stupid sense of stubborn pride. She didn’t want to feel like she was forced into wearing only looser clothing, and so would cram herself into pants with no button, or leggings which she’d torn through the waistband. As long as her hips didn’t show, as long as her thighs would behave, she’d be fine.

But they didn’t behave

Because she didn’t behave.

Miku snorted, a self-deprecating huff. She’d been more stubborn about her clothing than she’d been about maintaining her diet, but that was par for the course, wasn’t it? She’d always been stubborn over ‘sillier’ things ever since she was a teenager. Always putting off what she needed with a bevy of excuses or other restrictions.

Why actually put effort into losing weight when she could crowd her closet with clothes that didn’t even fit? Surely she’d manage to go down two sizes, she’d bought all those nice outfit. She’d fit into them soon. Any day now, and she’d be down to a size…

Fifteen? Was that what it had been?

No… that couldn’t be right. That was already too chubby… wasn’t it?

Oh what did it matter? It hadn’t changed. None of it had changed.

“Well, you’ve changed.”

Miku’s gloom didn’t’ last. A small drip of amusement formed a soft smirk on her cheeks, noticing how her hand had come to rest on her belly. It hadn’t been the first time she’d noticed the tick, her stomach was just such a natural resting place and the subtle little motion was something she’d caught herself doing when especially stressed or exhausted at work.

No, not her stomach.

Her gut.

It was the first part of her that entered a room and the first thing people noticed about her no matter how lovely her personality might have been or how pretty she otherwise was. Currently, it was testing the limits of the blue pajama shirt that Miku had worn since high school, pulling the few remaining buttons taut and threatening to burst were she to put too much pressure on them too quickly. Frankly, she hardly even noticed their plight.

So much of her simply hung free. The waistband of her pants couldn’t hope to contain both her belly and butt, so she wore the garment beneath the fold of her belly. Even then, it left a red mark across the tender fat on her hips, but it was better for her stubbornness to simply ignore the desperate condition of her once stretchy, now over-burdened, outfit that she’d once believed could last forever.

But, while she might overlook her clothing, it was impossible for her to overlook herself. She watched in the mirror, wondering if others would notice. In, out, the simple act of breathing. The slight jiggle, the little swell.

How did she make breathing look so… fat?

She turned to the side, looking at her profile. Then she had to adjust to try and fit properly into the mirror frame.

She couldn’t

“Hmmmggghhh…” she puffed, both disappointed and, frankly, surprised. She’d gotten used to her hips being too wide for the frame, she’d even gotten used to standing slightly further back for that. But this?

From the swell of her butt cheeks, porking over her pants, to the tip of her tummy, sagging just out of frame, Miku’s fingers traced a long, weary sigh before her lips spread in a tired grin.

Her hand followed the curve of her fat belly, cupping its warmth and softness as the adipose dripped beneath her fingers. 

Another thought came to her in Ichika’s voice. ‘Imagine your belly’s like a really demanding movie director!’ Miku imagined her saying. ‘She can help set your diet!’

A diet of soda and cookies?

‘She’ll provide a wardrobe!’

A wardrobe of popped buttons and burst belts?

It was a quick mental exchange, but it was one that made the girl giggle and jiggle. Somehow, she didn’t think her and her sister would see eye to eye, or tummy to tummy, on her little hurdle.

Almost as if a final jape for the issue, Miku imagined her sister suggesting, ‘If all else fails, you could just suck it in!” So she tried that.

…and immediately regretted it.

Wincing, the girl remembered her digestive situation. Utterly stuffed full of junk food and cheap, carbonated beverages, her poor tummy was in no mood to be compressed or flattened. It came rushing back out in a surge of taut blubber that would surely have burst several buttons had they not already pinged off to the great tailor in the sky, and left the girl wheezing and holding herself up with the side of the mirror.

“O-okay…” she hissed. “That’s enough of that.” She forced herself straight and tried to feel strong, then turned away from the mirror with such force to have her hair whip behind her as she dramatically turned… and plodded away in a buttery waddle.

Miku tried to ignore her instincts, telling herself she’d just worry herself sick and it was better to nip her troubled train of thought before it could leave the station, but she’d already spent so much time looking.

She couldn’t resist.

Like an appearance-conscious Orpheus in the modern-day world, Miku felt the trickle of thoughts she’d been trying to ignore for minutes on end turn her head back and look at the mirror.

She stopped.

The breath had frozen in her stomach. The digestive burbling had stopped, her lungs had stopped, her heart had stopped.

Her massive ass continued to jiggle.

Miku’s eyes snapped forward, face bright with a crimson blush. Her denials had whispered ‘Your butt can’t be that big…’ and they had been right! It was even bigger. Without looking, she tried to untuck the wedged fabric from her buttocks, tried to tug her waistband up and cram her cheeks in. She hadn’t realized how bad it had been, but the look in the mirror had been so indecent that even her normal unabashed senses bubbled self-consciously.

‘Better not do anything that requires you to bend over!’ she heard her sister jibe, and the absurd picture broke her freeze. Miku tried to hide her pink face in her hands.

___________________________________________________________________________

As puffy and pink as the impromptu exam had turned the porky girl, at least it had been an excuse not to clean. Spent dishes from days past cluttered her desk, which had been its only use recently, besides holding her PC.

On her nightstand sat a three-quarters emptied bottle of the previous night’s much needed cola, while the nearly emptied bag of chips sat where she’d crinkled it on her bed sheets next to a rather greasy console controller.

Miku had immediately fallen asleep after binging on both an excess of sodium and digital media, eyes stinging and body calling out for rest that no amount of caffeine could entirely prevent.

Gaming or surfing the web until she passed out from exhaustion was sadly not a new experience for Miku. It was a bad habit that she partook of too often since even in high school, but it had never happened several days in a row until recently.

With no nosy sisters to check up on her and drag her out by her long hair if they felt she was being a little too gloomy, she could hole up in her room to her heart’s content. No rivalry, no warring for space or clashing personalities, she could use her free time to simply sit and… stagnate.

Suddenly feeling a bit woozy, Miku made her way to the desk chair. She pretended not to notice the struggling cry of the overburdened plastic when she dropped her softened bottom into the upholstery’s embrace. However, the powerful jiggle that spread from her thighs to her belly to her chin and the accompanying fat girl grunt that was forced out of her were much harder to dismiss…

Over five years had passed since high school.

Five years since five quintuplet sisters had their lives changed forever by one especially persistent tutor.

Five years since four sisters fell hopelessly in love with him.

Five years since three sisters competed for his affection.

Five years since Two had won…

Miku had competed just as hard as Ichika and Nino had. Miku had loved and she had lost, completely and utterly.

And it was because of that she was where she was now.

She hadn’t spoken to either Nino or Fuutarou since the two had been wed earlier that year.

Though to be fair, that was partially because the last conversation with her older sister had been rather heated and awkward. Neither wanting to touch the sensitive issue that they both knew was there.

Actually, she hadn’t really met up with anyone since the wedding come to think of it…

Everyone had just seemed so busy lately. And although Miku wasn’t the wallflower of her teenage years, sometimes asking someone to spend time with her could take a little bit of working up to.

It was more than that though… Being reminded of her first love, the most important man in her life had got her to thinking about where she was. Where she was going, where she wanted to be. It had filled her with questions, hard questions that she wasn’t sure she knew the answers to.

Not just yet.

That man…

That… boy…

That awful, terrible, wonderful, caring, horrible, boy.

But he wasn’t a boy. Not the boy she remembered, not the boy she knew. He was a man who was standing up there in his tux, side-by-side with a woman who looked just like she did…

Okay. Maybe not just. Maybe in Miku’s memory of that moment, Nino looked plump, with her dress pinching her lovehandles and a butt that made her look more like a bodacious bombshell than a beautiful bride.

Even if they had different bodies, each of the sisters still all shared their eyes. But the expression wasn’t Miku’s

She wished she had never imagined the moment, picturing herself on the podium instead of her sister. Everyone else was busy being happy, and Miku felt like she could remember smiling, but now all she could remember was wondering what it would be like to be up there.

Then another thought hit her, and she was forced to repress another self-depreciative puff. She leaned back in her seat and looked at her bare foot, wondering if she could possibly squeeze her five chubby piggies into such a high pair of heels.

Her idle fingers reached to her desk, running along a pair of well-worn blue headphones. Truthfully, they didn’t even work anymore, the left side speaker no longer outputting sound altogether, but she still kept them. Just one more reminder of a past that she refused to let go of.

“I really should call…” she softly whispered. “It’s not like I’m doing anything important.”

She didn’t move from her spot.

Frankly, it was her stubbornness again more than anything. Miku knew that if her sisters saw her and knew how she was living her life, they’d have quite a few choice words for her about her lack of progress. Itsuki and Nino especially.

Everyone had made so much progress since their sophomore slump.

Ichika was moving up the film industry seemingly by the day. There were even talks about her first feature film in the works.

Itsuki was just finishing up her teaching degree and following in their mother’s footsteps.

Nino had opened her own bakery and married the man of her dreams.

Even Yotsuba had at least managed to take care of her health and seemed to get more and more physically fit each time her older sister saw her.

Meanwhile, Miku was…

Miku was…

There was a sudden knock on the door that made the poor girl nearly jump out of her seat.

“Miku?” a soft voice called. “Miku my darling, are you awake?”

The voice was so quiet that it was nearly lost beneath the sound of her body settling back into the chair, a noise which might have been confused with a squeaky mattress beneath a slumbering giantess. Her face white, her mind panicked, Miku hurriedly tried to convince herself she’d heard nothing at all, but the voice continued.

“I hope I’m not disturbing your well-deserved rest! I promise it’s important.”

It was almost too soft to hear, close to a whisper even when the owner had slightly raised his voice.

It was lucky that Miku lived in a college dorm, where the walls and the doors were quite thin, for she might have truly been able to force the noise from her mind had she not recognized the familiar gentleness of a familiar man.

Daisuke Uchiumi. Technically her boss but more importantly, the man who she absolutely did not want to see right now.

And the man she wanted to see more than anyone.

“I hope I haven’t done anything to offend by coming here…” the voice continued, maintaining its polite and neutral tone as well as it could even as the slightest hint of worry crept in.

Miku’s heart battled with itself for a moment, a plump little hedgehog wrestling with its desire to retreat into its burrow versus approaching the kind hand offering a tasty treat which she might nibble on.

And knowing Daisuke, he most likely did bring something for her to eat. He was thoughtful like that… even if he wasn’t very good at the whole ‘cooking’ thing.

Despite her worries, her whispers and her internal natures, the decision as made when she heard herself mutter, “Dai-kun…”

She blinked, looking down towards her mouth in surprise. She was instead met with the flushed sight of her portly pink tummy, the demanding director which lifted her senses to hear the shuffling of a bag just outside of her door.

The fear redoubled, a final assault upon her senses as she was faced with her belly and her fleshy exposure. He wouldn’t knock again. He’d wait exactly half a minute before leaving, as he’d consider anything else to be overbearing and rude. If she just stayed quiet, he’d assume she was sleeping and then Dai-kun would…

A memory flashed. The recollection of a girl curled up in her hotel room, arms round her legs and knees to her chest. A dour blue became an explosive red, a declaration of desire. And Miku desired nothing more in that moment than to just be herself, and to be happy.

She wanted to see him.

She deserved to see him.

She deserved to be happy, and had nothing in the world to be embarrassed about.

“One second!” the woman called out.

Miku made to hop to her feet, but settled on a slow, lumbering lift that required a wiggle to ensure her hips wouldn’t get stuck in the chair. Partway through the labor, there was a certain temptation to just tell him to come inside so she didn’t have to get up. He did have the key after all… but she didn’t want to look even lazier and fatter than she already did.

So she forced herself up, taking her hips brushing the arms of the chair like a taunting whisper of struggles to come if she wasn’t more careful, but this new fire inside her had the woman decide.

Maybe she was sick of being careful.

She crossed the room quickly, aware of her waddle and not even caring. With one last quick brush of her hair, Miku opened the door.

“Ah! Oh!” She was greeted by a tall man wearing a black button-up coat and an extremely bright blush. “Terribly sorry. I knew this was a bad time. I can come back later.”

Miku let herself grin, enjoying his embarrassment at her disheveled appearance almost as much as she enjoyed the rapid flicks of his eyes trying to find where to comfortably look before finally settling on her own.

He lifted a hand, scratching at his red cheek, but his eyes no longer wavered. “That is, if you wish it of course.”

Dai-kun usually wore a regal kimono, decorated lavishly and flowy and fine. It made the suit look strange on him, though no less regal. Never a thread out of place or even a wrinkle in sight.

He had a youthful face, with sharp cheekbones and a strong chest which the suit emphasized. Long, black hair held in a simple ponytail with a red string followed that same principle, turning something that could be seen as unkempt, youthful, or rebellious into something tidy, old fashioned and respectful.

A part of her wondered if such a light could ever again be cast upon her. With her musty hair, her busted shirt, her gut muffining over the top of her waistband. That part of her caused her to tug at her shirt, but neither of the two seemed to notice much outside of the other’s eyes in that moment.

“N-no. I-um… just wasn’t expecting you.”

Miku was the first to break direct eye contact, but it wasn’t by choice. Her unconscious wobble set a loose strand of her bangs to fall over one eye, and suddenly the spell that held their contact was broken and she felt herself blush into his warm expression.

He was smiling. Dai-kun was always smiling, but his smile made her smile, and she felt like her smile made him smile just a bit more. The smile that he wore now was one that reached his eyes, and it made Miku blush and breathe and giggle.

“Apologies,” he said, growing a bit more pensive. “I tried to contact you in advance, but I did not receive a response. I grew concerned.”

Miku felt her head tilt and her brow narrow. She certainly hadn’t received any kind of… notification…

Her lips puckering, she peered to the desk she’d just hurriedly wobbled from. Sitting somewhere, amidst the plates and destruction, she knew was her phone… which she’d set down on Friday and then ignored for most of the weekend.

The one she had meant to put on the charger two nights ago. And then yesterday afternoon, after she’d gotten back with her friends and before her gaming sessions. And then this morning, before all the soda and cookies and her comfy pillows had lulled her into a coma…

And here in front of her was her boyfriend who, while conscientious and kind-hearted, hadn’t had a cellphone until Miku insisted he get one last year. The aspect of ‘instant communication’ had been the main selling point.

“…forgot to charge it…”

“Hmmm? What was that?”

“I said I forgot to charge my phone.”

Miku closed her eyes, expecting some sort of lecture, but Daisuke just laughed. He had a pleasant laugh.

“You forget too? Excellent, I thought I was the only one. It’s seldom useful when I’m not speaking with you. But I’d realized this morning and feared that I’d missed a call or some such this weekend.”

“It would tell you,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “It says on the screen when you miss calls.”

“Yes but…” and then, for the first time, the young man averted his eyes in his own shades of embarrassment. “I fear I’ve forgotten my Email… again.”

“Ooohh, Dai-kun,” Miku released a sigh of relief that became a cheerful little snort. She shook her head, exasperation and fondness making her feel better than even cookies could.

What was she going to do with him?

“Come in!” she bade, stepping back from the door as he respectfully bowed. “I’ll get you logged back in. I’ve your passwords written down on my phone.”

She turned around then, praying that her conspicuous waddling wouldn’t lower the waistband of her pajama pants too far. Miku didn’t want to be giving a peek of cheek… a thought which then made the girl’s blue eyes become as wide as saucers as her head snapped to her charging cable, plugged in by her nightstand next to her bed.

It lay on the floor.

Her phone was dead.

She would have to bend down to get it.

“Crap…”

“What was that?”

“Uhh just…” she swallowed, brushing some of her foodie carnage aside and scooping up her phone. “Got it!” she beamed.

“Ah, yes I see.” Daisuke came further in, to the foot of her bed. Miku’s eyes flicked to the empty chip bag and her forest of crumbs, but he didn’t even seem to notice her worries, too busy removing his bag.

“What’s that?” she asked as he placed it down on the floor, using the opportunity to gracefully thump across to her bed and hurriedly fling the chip bag up past her headboard and out of sight.

It was lucky that he was tall. It made bending down a long thing for the man to rise from, though she did notice a smirk that might have been entirely too amused when he was up on one knee.

“My travel bag,” he nodded. “You see, I…”

And then he paused, his mouth open, and then his eyes fell to the side and he released a low, breathy laugh.

“Dai-kun?” Miku asked, coming around to stand with him at the foot of the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s…” he began before shaking his head again. “You know, I had been working on a speech for the last twenty minutes. About how I found your stockings in my luggage. Which is true,” he said, patting the bag. “We must have got it mixed during the rush to leave the hotel. I should have noticed it there of course, but I brought them to return to you.”

Miku peered at him curiously. “But…?” she asked.

“But, it’s not… why I’m here.”

Miku felt herself tilting. It felt so odd to be standing there, looming over the man who was several inches taller than her. Noticing that both of her arms had seemed to go to the natural place on her gut, she decided to just let the naturalness take her and leaned against the bed.

Her boyfriend was polite enough not to notice the loud *Boomf* of the headboard smacking the far wall.

“S-so,” she stuttered, blushing, “why are you here? You could have given them to me when I returned to work.”

Daisuke rose to his feet and came to where she stood. That felt better, more comfortable, with her eyes level with his chest instead of… his… level with…

Miku turned several shades brighter, the current thought quickly replacing itself with her and Nino arguing with one another over who was taller, Fuutarou or Daisuke, and how both men had reacted to the two girls, filled with heat and maybe a bit too much drink, forcing them to stand back to back despite Fuutarou’s loud complaints.

The result had been a definite victory for Daisuke by a measly two inches which Nino had never let her husband live down as though it were something he could actually control.

Her sister could be so childish sometimes.

“I wanted to say those things,” Daisuke said, reaching out a hand for Miku’s. “Because, in part, I think it is because I wanted to believe that was it. Just… stopping by, dropping something off. Completely and totally without ulterior motive.”

Miku found herself pouting, reaching out with her fingers to prod at his waist. “No ulterior motives, huh?” She found her voice and eyes full of suspicion, wondering if he was going to ask her again.

She’d left him without an answer for so long, now. Did he think she’d forgotten? Was he about to ask her if she would-

“I wanted to see you,” he said simply, and those anxious whispers were banished from her mind. “I will not lie to you. Returning something is a good excuse, but…” His eyes grew soft and he fidgeted ever so slightly inside of her grip. “We’ve not spoken since the trip. I missed the sound of your voice… very much.”

Miku blinked at him. Her eyes were still looking for some sort of sign, some ingenuine hint, but… no. That wasn’t Daisuke. That… wasn’t her Dai-kun.

She wanted to smack herself.

Instead, she smiled, albeit a bit more bashfully this time. Her fingers flexed on his, her thumb stroking his hand. “R-right. I’m sorry. About… I just needed a little time…”

His other hand came up, lightly waving away her concerns. “Oh, yes the midterms, right? You had mentioned before. To tell you the truth, it has made me happy for timing that the inn is undergoing renovations. You of all people deserve-”

She deserved to be happy.

The woman resisted the urge to reach up and knock the man on the head for believing that her excuse about ‘school’ was why she’d been avoiding him. She had to fight harder to resist the urge to pull the man down by his shirt and lock him into a kiss so intense that they might suffocate from a lack of oxygen.

Miku compromised, as she often did, with the softer answer, and rose to give her boyfriend a hug.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

“I missed you too,” he replied. “This week has felt like months without my talented assistant.”

For a moment, she allowed herself to just rest. To enjoy the gentle beating of his heart and his soft breath on her head, to feel his hands stroking through the long strands of her messy hair. He had to feel the grease. Oh God, he definitely felt it, and he could feel her weight against him, and he could feel her gut flattening his nice coat, and… and none of it seemed to matter. He just stood there, holding her, with understated yet ever present strength in his arm. The smell of old furniture and well brewed matcha tea. Sakura blossoms and the pages of history.

It was starting to smell like home.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Yes!” she repeated louder, looking up at him. “My answer. Yes.”

He blinked at her. He honestly blinked at her, as if he’d no expectation for an answer to his question. And then the lights in his eyes brightened and she felt his arm tighten around her, and she buried her face in his chest and let herself feel exactly what she wanted.

“I will move in with you after this semester!”

He didn’t reply for a moment, but she could hear the relief in his breathing and then he buried his face in her scalp. “That is… fantastic!” he muttered. “But I must know, why the change of heart?”

Miku had to admit, it was a good question. He had asked her back when they had taken the trip to her sister’s wedding and her response had been nowhere near as enthusiastic.

Back then, she had stammered and stumbled and told him she would think about it but that she didn’t have an answer.

Nino had really laid into her for that one.

“You know you’re just going to say yes, so why waste everyone’s time hemming and hawing about it!? Gawd you’re such a drama queen sometimes!” Her straightforward sister had practically screeched, emboldened by alcohol at her bachelorette party.

That had, of course, led to one of their iconic cat fights soon followed by a tearful apology once more booze had flowed.

The worst part was that her sister was completely right… for once.

“I wanted to,” she answered after thinking about it some. “Because I love you Dai-kun.”

That seemed good enough for him as he cheerfully broke from her grasp, clapping his hands together before snatching up his bag from the floor and setting it down upon her dorm’s dining table. “Oh this is stupendous! Truly! I will tell everyone at once so preparations can be made!”

The wind in her lungs became weight in her gut. Or… erm… more weight, in her gut. She couldn’t imagine Dai-kun’s mother would be too happy about this turn of events. She had always thought of Miku as a sinful temptress from the city compared to the nice country girls she’d try to pick out for her son.

Miku’s size hadn’t even been the main target of Mother Uchiumi’s scornful glare… at first… The soft redhead had grown considerably softer over the last few years, with her most rapid gain happening in these recent months, and despite Dai-kun’s assurances of familial unity, Miku felt certain that her expansive backside had been the topic of at least one family meeting…

That thought brought an even more worrisome one. She wasn’t sure if they made kimono’s in her size. She’d never thought to check, and her old formal dress would fit her as well as her pajamas-

*Ping!*

*Tick! Tick…*

Miku watched in frozen horror as one of her top’s final few buttons, this being the one that had been just beneath her breasts, slowly rolled back from where it had struck the wall near Dai-kun. He was watching it too, both of them silent, as the failed soldier swirled round and round and then noisily came to a rest just close enough that Miku couldn’t see it beneath the curve of her gut.

Several impulses fluttered through her. The one that came closest to winning was the one that screamed at her to dive beneath her covers, and she might have done so had she anywhere near the agility to manage before Dai-kun’s chuckling proved so darned infectious that Miku’s gut wobbled in a big belly laugh.

“We will… have to upsize your wardrobe, I think,” he said, crossing to her as she shook her head and held her gut through her laugh.

“Hooogh,” she wheezed. “Yes. That would probably be for the best.” She lifted a hand to her mouth, covering her laughter. “I didn’t think…” Miku trailed off, shaking her head and poking at the flood of fleshing trying to join her gut in escape. “Do you know if they make kimonos in my size?”

“Hmm?” Dai-kun’s eyes sparkled. “Darling, I imagine they will make one whatever size you would like as long as they are paid.”

Miku let out a very loud sigh. “Good. The last thing I’d want is to give people… outlines to peep from a tight dress.”

“Come now,” he said, tugging her gently up to her feet. “We should celebrate. Dinner. Let me treat you somewhere tonight. Really treat you, a full course meal with a chocolate dessert!”

The demanding director stirred. Loudly.

Miku turned pink as the audible rumble that jiggled up from her belly quivered throughout. She shouldn’t nearly be so hungry as that, she was still digesting so much from her early morning. She swallowed the nervous tension and looked up to apologize, only to be greeted to an unsuspecting sight.

Dai-kun was looking at her belly, and was still grinning.

“S-sorry,” Miku still chirped, though she felt as confused as he looked.

“Hmm? Oh,” his furrowed brow lifted and he cupped her cheek in his hand. “Darling, don’t tell me you’re fretting about your weight again,” he chuckled. “You are pleasingly plump at the most. And it suits!”

Miku’s eyes widened at the man without a dishonest bone in his body.

“That is not news, is it?” he asked. “You should hear how the staff talks. It is fitting for a matron who is always so warm and who spends idle hours baking in the kitchen.”

“I-I don’t… Do I bake that much?” Miku asked, her heart thundering like a startled rabbit.

Dai-kun’s reply was just a raised eyebrow. He looked down to her stomach and said “How does purin sound for dessert? Topped with whipped cream and a chocolate fudge-”

*Rrrroooouugghh* demanded the noisy director.

Miku’s eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings. “C-cheating,” she said. “You know how I like…”

“Mhmm,” he grinned. “You run a tight shift in the kitchens. Those who work under you hold great respect for you. They know you are…”

His hand dropped. Goosebumps erupted across her belly, his hands chilly and cool against a surface which had earlier burned like a foundry.

“Experienced.”

Miku’s nostrils flared, her belly swelled. Her breath was so deep that the few other buttons threatened to burst. She knew in that moment that she was dirty, filthy and so very fat.

‘Matronly...’

Memories passed by like so many scents of so many meals. She remembered outgrowing her first chef’s outfit, then her second. She remembered the taste of the first desserts she had baked for the hotel. And, in that moment, she remembered the girl who couldn’t bake anything. The small, skinny girl, who had changed her whole life because she really just wanted to learn how to make tasty chocolates for a boy she liked.

Miku Nakano melted into the arms of her Dai-Kun, and he kissed her forehead. She felt loved and knew that she had come to love him more than she had even thought she was capable.

“Ah…” he breathed into her hair, “You raise a good point. Why wait for tonight when I have brought something delicious right now?”

She blinked up at him, but hobbled along, unwilling to let go of him until they reached his bag on the table. He flipped open the top and a bit of steam puffed out, and Miku recognized both a slightly torn pair of stockings as well as a small heated carrying bag that Daisuke had purchased at her insistence.

From the bag, Daisuke removed what looked like Gyudon bowls. The scent of them was lazy, warm and inviting, reminding the girl of comfort and a lovingly full belly.

“I wanted to cover the scent,” he said as her belly, which she could tell was still full, rumbled against his waist. “I know how restless you can get.”

“How restless I can get!?” she said, trying to pout through her laugh. She lifted herself on her toes, rubbing her belly against him. “This is your fault, too!”

And it was true! Despite his laughter! She wasn’t like her gluttonous sister Itsuki who seemed to love eating for eating’s sake. She wasn’t like Nino either for whom the pleasure of overindulging herself was worth a few extra pounds.

Miku’s strength, her confidence, came from food. Food was more than a comfort to her. Every bite she took was a reminder of how much she’d grown. And every bite of Daisuke’s cooking was just one more reminder of his love.

A reminder that she was worth loving.

“I must say,” he began “I got a few strange looks when I told people what the bag was for. Is knocking on your beloved’s door with food and waiting for them to come out truly so peculiar in the city?”

Wiping the drool from her lip, Miku grew a deadpan expression. Knowing Daisuke, he probably actually did phrase it exactly like that. “The other residents might think you’re a creepy stalker now.”

Daisuke winced. “Yes, I suppose a woman such as yourself would have plenty of those. Especially in the big city.”

“You stalked me at one point.”

“Ah,” he corrected. “That was not mere stalking. I simply saw you and was transfixed by your ability! I may have been slightly… overly zealous, true, but I had to ask if you’d come work for us!”

Indeed, he had come in as a regular to her first part time job. Culinary school was quite different to how she thought it would be. More focused on the business end of things rather than learning new recipes, which students were expected to master and practice on their own.

Miku had already put in the effort to be good at cooking, but if all that she needed was to get a paper to prove it then she just figured she might as well get paid for it.

And it just so happened a diner attracted a lot of people from different walks of life including the heir of a prestigious inn commuting to the city every day for manager training whose historic hotel had recently found itself short of chefs.

She regretted being so quick to judge later, of course, but what was she supposed to think at the time. A customer from the rinky dink diner she forced herself to work at calling her name and chasing after her in the middle of the night?

Perhaps it was a good thing she was so out of shape, otherwise he wouldn’t have caught up with her and made her a much better offer.

Prestige, practice, pay, those were wonderful of course… but what had won her over was something else.

“We comfort the weary and send them back refreshed. Our inn is a sanctuary and it is our job to make our clients’ stay a restful one,” he had said, breathless not only from the run. “And food is an important part of that as I’m sure a chef of your talents is more than aware.”

Maybe it was her huffing and puffing, or maybe it was her bewildered expression. But something in the way that he presented the pitch, so impassioned…

“A clean bed and a warm meal for a tired soul. Come change lives for the better with us, Nakano-san.”

It was hard work. Exhausting even, and taking classes at the same time didn’t help with her stamina, but Daisuke’s admiration of her only seemed to grow each and every day. Near the end of each shift, he would always order a special dessert and then offer to share with her once she was off the clock. And working beside Daisuke made Miku feel… incredible.

“Another review that mentioned you, Nakano-san. I’m starting to run out of room on your clipboard!”

“Goodness, I have never seen such organized looking notes. No wonder your grades are so high, Miku.”

“Darling, I think I’ve made something truly mouthwatering this time. Your recipe was invaluable.”

It was getting to the point where Miku was really starting to believe it. That awful, negative little part of her mind told her that it would end when he met her sisters, but that hadn’t happened either.

‘And why would it?’ Miku thought to herself, wiggling her hips cheerfully. 'I’ve got a lot about me to love.'

“How did you get in anyway?” she asked offhandedly. “It’s school policy not to let anyone you don’t recognize without an ID. You could have been a dangerous criminal…”

Daisuke raised a finger. “Ah. A nice young lady named Takane-san let me in. What a shame. I didn’t know it was against policy. I hope she didn’t get in trouble.”

Miku pursed her lips. Takane was one of her classmates. Another red head but one who hadn’t succumbed to the plumpness that affected chefs. Flirty, and with another guy seemingly every month. Miku didn’t like that type of girl being on a first name basis with her boyfriend.

“She gave me her phone number though. Hopefully if anything happens, she’ll contact me and I can clear things up.”

Miku pouted harder than she had ever pouted before, cheeks so big and puffy she could be mistaken for storing balloons. “Trespasser. Go get arrested and banned from the campus for life,” she mumbled.

“Hmmm? What was that darling? I didn’t quite hear you.”

Recomposing herself, Miku gained a look of determination. She led Daisuke by the hand over to the nearby bed.

After victory, tighten the straps of your helmet.

It meant that after you felt as if you’d won was when you were most vulnerable. And she wasn’t about to lose after all she’d been through.

Miku sat herself back on the bed, pushing her body off the floor with a grunt and slowly wiggling her hips until she was near her headboard. “How about you… feed me Dai-kun,” she said, hands moving to her belly. Her usual bashfulness was competing with a new desire and she was delighted to find that new desire was winning.

The inn’s heir didn’t need to be told twice. He doubled back, quickly grabbing a bowl and one of the forks to go with it, then seated himself at her feet as she adjusted the pillows so that she could sit comfortably.

He waited for her, and she could feel his eyes lift from her belly to the heft of her breasts. She was very glad that the shirt still offered some form of support… but she’d be lying if she’d said she wasn’t enjoying every moment of appraisal.

An idea came to her and she was excited to find that she’d managed to move her phone to the bottom of the bed. “Here!” she said, “Pass me my phone?”

“Hmm? Sure,” said her boyfriend, leaning across her legs and then passing it on to her.

And then, stealing her breath and trying very hard to focus on the word ‘matronly,’ Miku titled herself over to the opposite side of her bed. She felt a bit of pain in her stomach as it compressed, but it was nowhere near as excited as she felt when she heard her boyfriend gulp.

That elation could have lifted her up like a cloud, but she settled back down with a lovely *BWOOMF* that she was sure showed off every single pound she had put on since he’d chased her down. And then she plugged in her phone, puffy with pride and very much enjoying the look on his face.

He watched her and, slowly, he let out a loving chuckle, stroking one hand on her soft inner thigh. “I’m glad you’re warming up to this. I know it might seem a bit… odd.”

Miku giggled, wobbling back until she was reclined against her pillows. Her hands came to rest comfortably on her gut as her thighs spread, emphasizing her heft for the man she loved and who loved her in turn. “Yeah… well… this weight is mostly your fault… So… take responsibility, okay?”

[$5+] February Patrons’ Prompt Poll: Story Artwork

The poll for February's Patreon Story Artwork!  These suggestions are made by the folks in the $15 Content Creator tier. Thanks again for your prompts!

Cast your votes and comments down below!

References are included where available for each option, with a tiny touch of text to give the basic concept! 

Blasty has generously okayed me to use his Aqua for reference, as has Meatpedal for his Nino! Most of these stories haven't received any artwork, and even the one that has lots has a character that has yet to be depicted, so I'm very hyped to see how this poll turns out! :D

Chub-Love Shorts: Fat Tuesday

You’re overdoing it.

She’s breathing heavily, her eyes distant and unfocused as she watches the fire. Her thumb and forefinger squeeze the large sweet, marked by white fluff and small chocolate stains. Still, the fingers are as focused as her eyes, and she’d have dropped her assembled confection were it not held between her lovely, sugar-stained lips.

The girl before you could have been made from marble. Not because her figure is hard, in fact it’s quite the opposite, but in this snapshot in time she looks like a living art piece. Plump thighs pinched in teeny jean shorts, a muffintop tummy pudging beneath her dark tube top. Her eyes glitter like ocean jewels in the firelight, stealing your breath and halting your heartbeat.

The Birth of Venushas come to life, and she has moved into your place, and is now eating your cooking.

Well… if you can consider a mostly burnt s’more ‘cooking.’

Her hair has gotten longer. It’s falling just past her shoulders, tickling the exposed shoulders of her fair skin. You used to be able to see her collarbones.

You can’t anymore.

“Another?”

“Hmm?” she looks over to you, then starts. “Mmm! Mhmm!!”

Abruptly, she blinks, as if she hadn’t intended to agree but you’d caught her off guard and her belly spoke for her.

She looks down at her full fingers and sticky lips as you lift from your seat beside her, grabbing another marshmallow and your little cooking stick. When she resumes chewing it’s slower, more thoughtful, though clearly no less pleased than her first four treats had inspired.

Her hand goes to the side of her chair, lifting a small glass cup, a wineglass without its stem, and sips from the fruity alcohol to wash down the sticky bite.

When she finishes, she finally allows herself a soft, “Ahhhh…” of refreshment, then lifts her shoeless feet to rest by the fire. “What a wonderful night.”

“I’m glad it didn’t rain.”

“I told you it wouldn’t,” she grins, shimmying down so that her wiggly toes can reach closer to the pit.

While you snap the next graham cracker in two, you wonder if she’s really aware of it yet. Does she feel it on her legs, in her feet? You remember once reading an article that said that eight pounds was kind of like carrying the equivalent of a watermelon hanging onto you all the time.

But one quick glance as you tear open the next chocolate bar has you appreciate how many extra melons she wears on her waist…

It’s not that her breasts were small, but they weren’t bra busters. They were now… just as her belly had become a belt breaker.

You’re overdoing it. You’ve been feeding her too much, she’s gaining too quickly. What if she gets upset about outgrowing her clothing? You’ve seen what her thighs have done to her leggings, all the wear that’s caused from her legs constant rubbings.

What will you do if she gets upset?

What if she wants to eat healthier? What if she wants to lose weight?

You’ll support her of course. Just like you’re supporting her now, by double stacking the chocolates so the single s’more uses the whole chocolate bar, just like she had shown you earlier tonight.

You grab another marshmallow from the bag, squeezing the chubby confection before setting it onto your special stick.

If she wants to work out, you’ll help her. If she wants to eat fish or salmon or shrimp, you’ll learn to cook them and feed her those things.

A slight tap near your calf makes you turn to her. She strokes your leg with her foot, but she doesn’t say anything. She just smiles, her bright eyes lovely in the firelight. There’s chocolate on her fingers, marshmallow on her lips, and a smoldering hearth in her amorous eyes.

Whatever she wants, you’ll make sure that she has. And if she wants dessert, well… whatever she’d like.

“Burned, again?”

“Of course!”

You chuckle before lowering the marshmallow into the fire pit. It catches almost immediately, but you leave it in there, turning it over to make sure the fire spreads across the white surface.

“You know, it’s better if you do it properly. Let it cook right so that it’s an even golden brown.”

“Meh!” she shrugs, and the motion causes her pooching belly to lift and fall and her shirt rises up another slight inch. “That stuff takes too long. I like the crunchy texture, and I’d rather just eat it now.”

Maybe it’s just the alcohol, or maybe the fire feels warm on her stomach. Whatever it is, she doesn’t fix her shirt, and you’re allowed to look at her chubby belly button until you remember that you had been trying to say something.

Oh, right, the marshmallow.

You choose to relent the topic. Instant gratification has become her norm. You… haven’t really helped in that regard…

“How did you know it wouldn’t rain?” you ask.

She lifts a hand to her face, winking and flashing an adorable peace sign. “I could feel it in my gut!” she chirps through a snicker, her other hand patting her plump waist.

It’s enough to make your mind blue screen. The ring of an emergency broadcast plays in your ears as you helplessly blink at the adorable jiggle from her delighted display.

By the time your systems have finished rebooting, the sweet is done burning and you go back to the table to complete the assembly.

You’re just smushing the top cracker and chocolates onto the marshmallow when you hear something that makes you stop. Then, understanding, it makes your skin tingle.

She’s humming. You don’t know the song. You think you’ve heard the tune once or twice. It’s low, with long notes that hang onto the air, but hearing the luscious notes from her makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck.

You watch her as she lightly rocks in the chair. Eyes closed, hands interlocked across the swell of her belly, her hair hanging over the back of the seat. She brushes one foot against the ankle of her other, the picture of spoiled relaxation.

Her cheeks blush from the food and the drink, or perhaps just from the joy of the moment. She looks comfortable, sweet, happy.

She looks fat.

It’s not just chubby. Not anymore. Her belly puffs in and out with each breath, pushing against the crevice created by her smothering thighs. You notice that her shorts have a tear in the seam, one which neither of you heard, but it’s a horizontal gap that gives you a glimpse of her pink flesh and red underwear.

You go to her and she turns up to you, grinning. You offer the treat, but she doesn’t lift a finger.

Instead, she opens her mouth, and you feed it to her.

When she bites down, you feel the vibration as her teeth shear through each of the crackers and the four slabs of chocolate. You feel her lips touch your fingers. The burned marshmallow crackles as she closes her teeth and pulls away, sighing in glutted pleasure.

If she cares about the mess of white tendrils which trail between the treat and her mouth, she doesn’t show it. She’s chewing through a fatty’s smile of delicious satisfaction.

“Mmmgggh,” she groans, and crumb fall from her lips. “Poor-feckt.”

And then she goes for the next bite.

No words pass between you. She doesn’t even sit forwards, just sits back with her belly puffing out of her shirt like the marshmallow does of the tightly held s’more.

You try to keep your hand from shaking. You’re not sure if you’re succeeding.

Judging by the teasing smirk that fills her sticky lips before she goes for the last bite, you’re clearly not.

The last mouthful is the biggest, but she takes you by the wrist and guides your hand in. You feel as her tongue laps at the melting chocolate before it playfully pokes at one of your fingers.

When her mouth closes, she leaves your hand with a kiss. But she doesn’t let go.

Her blush brightens and she gives your arm a soft tug that feels as commanding as the tide.

She guides you down and, with her mouth still full and hopelessly sticky, she kisses you. You kiss her back, leaning into her chubbiness and letting one hand lower to touch at her naked stomach.

She feels just like the marshmallow, but so much more warm, and tender, and no less delicious.

Her hand touches your neck, tugging you deeper into the kiss. She tilts her head, opens her mouth, and kisses again. Then again, and again, with you following her lead.

You wouldn’t have believed that any noise could affect you so deeply, but the moans of her kiss have your heart racing. It’s as if you can feel the vibrations through the jiggles in her stomach, and it’s making you worried.

But your hand doesn’t care. It grabs a handful of her belly and squishes it, and your fat girlfriend trembles against your delectable kiss.

She lifts her other arm, plucking at your shirt while you play with her gut.

You’re overdoing it.

But she is too.

Commission: Diamonds in the Rough

Agrabah. The city of mystery, of mystics and enchantment. The city of people, of paupers and princes. The city of sand, of wind, and of dreams.

It was a city filled with song.

At least, it was in the mind of one young man.

Aladdin was used to the hustle and bustle that surrounded him now, packed streets filled with pedestrians and merchants all shouting over one another. It did not matter that the sun had set. There was food to buy, items to sell, and the brightly glowing moon lit up the Arabian night.

The darkness was a sanguine comfort to the young man, warm air with a pleasant breeze that somehow enhanced the constant thrum of the city, which Aladdin could hear almost like a big bass drum.

He passed through the crowd nimbly, like water passing through the cracks of a stone, listening all the while. It was like hearing a heartbeat, a sound so powerful that he could feel it through the skin of his feet, and he found himself humming along.

“Make way!” someone nearby, probably a guard, shouted. “Make way!!”

“Make waaaaay… for Prince Ali…”

Aladdin hadn’t realized he’s spoken, putting words to the half-remembered tune, until from somewhere just above his right shoulder he heard someone whisper, “Say hey~ It’s Prince Ali~”

He turned, looking behind him to see… nothing. There were plenty of other people, of course, but they were all practically faceless. Nothing stuck out, nobody was looking at him...

He’d just begun to dismiss it when a gust of wind, so strong that it nearly blew off his fez, swept up the street. Canvas covers flopped, some even broke, and numerous pedestrians ducked their heads as a small tuft of sand was lifted into the air and, perfectly in tune with the music in his head, Aladdin heard a chorus of women’s voices shout, “Hey!!” so loud and so close that it startled him into a yelp and a backpedaling fall.

He tumbled awkwardly, arm striking the side of a stall at the elbow. Strangely enough, it hardly hurt. Worse was the damage the impact had done to his pride and the stinging sensation of sand hitting his throat through his opened mouth.

He hadn’t been the only one who’d fallen. He could see shadows through a miniature dust storm, the faceless Arabians lifting up from the ground or stepping away from the stalls upon which they’d collapsed. He waved a hand, coughing, and noticed something… strange, happen then.

A torch sprung to life in the dark. Then another, then a third, each illuminating a shadow who hadn’t seemed to be there only a moment before. Each dark mass was moving in perfect synchronization, and Aladdin was very suddenly aware that the music inside his head was now being played from outside as well.

Then, it changed. The drum became only a background noise, hardly audible over the sound of jewelry and gemstones sliding against cloth and naked flesh. The light jingles sharpened the shadows, and Aladdin could now tell that the bobbing shades were shorter and more shapely than he had first thought.

One of the shadows moved and then a new noise joined the soft jingles. A flute, sweet yet sharp, began to play. The other two figures twisted, thin but luscious curves highlighted by their intense flame, and another gust of wind cleared the area and exposed three very, very lovely looking women.

They weren’t naked, but they weren’t far from it either. Each of them wore a colorful two-piece outfit, the flute player wearing purple while the other two wore a brilliant red, dark and fanciful in the bright moonlight. The flute player stood in the center, her magnificent hips twitching from the left to the right while the other two began twirling around her, taking their torches with them, the stones on their garments emitting some pleasant twinkles…

And then they began to sing.

“Won’t you join in, on our sacred song?

We’d like, a man, who is big and strong!

Come now please don’t leave us high and dry~

Let us go! Come along!

What could possibly go awry?”

As the flute player began to pick up louder, either of the girls stabbed their torch into the ground before taking a man, grinning pleasantly as they pulled them into their dance.

They moved like serpents that had been charmed to the flute-player’s tune, the focus of the dance on the circular movement. And they looked lovely. Grace marked every movement, every twitch of their hips or shake of their belly perfectly planned and executed. Their movement was enrapturing, so much so that Aladdin had almost missed when they’d changed partners.

When they did, Aladdin noticed how each girl moved lightly enough that she would barely disturb the sands, while each man plodded through the steps with a certain incompetence that said how they had no idea how to follow someone else’s lead in a dance.

A crowd was swiftly forming around the circle, eager men stepping forwards to volunteer as the beautiful girls danced and smiled and sang to them. But each time they’d deposit the men back into the crowd after a single revolution before taking up a fresh pair, and their song taking on a more playful air.

Aladdin had begun to watch the tallest girl, one of the scarlet dancers whose forehead was marked by a crimson Bindi gem, when he realized he was watching the trio with his mouth still open. And that he was still sitting on the ground.

He went to lift himself to his feet… and then he was dancing.

There was no in-between. One moment, he had one hand on his knee, the other in the sand. The next, he was face to face with the smallest of the trio, a dark-haired dancer who wore a bright red fez.

“Well at least someone doesn’t have two left feet,” the girl whispered, grinning.

“Woah,” he breathed, blinking.

“Hey now. Don’t fall behind,” she instructed. “I’d hate to give you up so quickly, Prince.”

Aladdin blinked at the girl. His face must have gone pale, because she giggled righteously before bringing one of his hands to her waist, the other to her own hand.

The music slowed, as did the girl’s movements. She paused, but for only a second before taking Aladdin’s hand in her own, guiding the second to her waist. She was closer now, and though she was only just tall enough to reach the young man’s nose, it meant he could smell her shampoo and her perfume very clearly.

“H-how do you know who I am?” he asked, blinking through the enchanting scent of fresh vanilla.

“Hmm~” she smiled. Aladdin noticed that they were approaching the spot where they’d started dancing and braced himself to pull away… but the girl kept on moving, his body unconsciously following in her step. “We know many things, Ali. Not much can be kept a secret from us. And that which can often has a way of being…” she paused, pushing his fingers against the slightest softness that touched her trim tummy. “Let loose~”

“Who are you?” he asked.

Someone who wasn’t the girl he danced with spoke then. “We are what we are,” the girl with the Bindi replied. “Just as you are what you are, at the time that you are.”

“For now,” the girl he danced with grinned up at him, “we are dancers.”

“Tomorrow, perhaps something different.”

Aladdin swallowed. The last voice had not come from either of the two girls, but the flute player, still playing on the flute, watched him with an open regard.

“We’re here to satisfy… urges,” the short girl then filled. “You’d call them hungers.”

“Hunger? Like… feeding?”

“Mpphhh,” the girl sighed deliciously, “something like that. Yes.”

“By… dancing?”

“By dancing with mortals,” she said, a mischievous smile tilting up at her lips. “By… indulging, in their indulgences.”

Aladdin felt her fingers tighten over his again, flexing him to her soft stomach. It felt nice… really, really nice. She felt squishy, but beneath her middle he could feel something like muscles hidden just beneath the top layers of soft flesh.

Then, the girl was gone, and he was with the Bindi dancer, who held his out-hand down around the curve of her backside. “This one is… splendid,” she whispered, still guiding his feet in a responsive movement. “I could join with you for hours, couldn’t I?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean that you’re a wonderful dancer, Darling,” she whispered out with a tight, bewitched breath. “I could dance and dance with you until the sun burnt away.”

“Hey!” Again, Aladdin had the weird feeling of gearing her thoughts rather than hearing any words. “No fair. We agreed if we found one, we’d all share him.”

“Oh, I’ll share alright…” the Bindi girl said. She seemed to be the leader of the group, coming across like a matron who was used to getting her way. “Just a few bits more. It’s so rare to find someone so… hungry. And handsome, too.”

“Uhh… t-thanks,” Aladdin laughed.

“Oh my goodness, you’re so-”

She bit her lip and then suddenly Aladdin was in freefall, tipping forwards as the weight against him had vanished. Before he could yelp, he felt his arm catch something strong but light. Inches from the sand, the young man was yanked back to his feet in a spinning twirl that had him tumble into the arms of the purple flute player, who dipped him to the cheers and friendly jeers of the crowd.

“Mhmm, careful, honey,” the woman whispered, her pleasant voice dripping with husky sugars. “I’ve barely started.”

“W-where did-” Aladdin began, then realized they’d reached the crescendo of the music. He looked up, above his dipped head, as a new instrument took up the tune. It was an odd-looking thing, gleaming bright against the light of the sun, and it sounded so much deeper than the simple flute had. But then, the look of the bindi woman smoldered just as deeply and hungrily as her instrument, naked feet tapping the sands.

“I wasn’t done yet, Aliyah!”

Before he could process anything further, Aladdin was pulled back to his feet and into the dancer’s movements, both of his hands on her shapely waist as she guided him in the large circle, laughing playfully as they moved to the deeper tempo.

“Aliyah?” he gasped. “Is that your name?”

The girl’s answer was a deep sigh, a satisfied purring as her nose twitched and her eyes closed pleasantly. She continued to move, continued to lead, but her body became as if one with the music, closing the gap between them and setting the pair into an intimate dance.

The music of the bindi woman was slower, though it only made Aliyah’s movements seem so much more pronounced and precise. Aladdin struggled just to keep up! She was so much more skilled, so much more confident, like a serpent spinning herself around a clumsy mouse.

But whenever his feet caught or his knee knocked against hers, she adjusted and caught him, moving him into the next step, then the next. It made his fumbling feel almost graceful, as if he’d meant to put himself there rather than her imperceptible guidance, and with each little touch Aladdin could feel sparks springing up until the hair on his arms was standing on edge and the young man was smiling and humming along to the tune while the girls sang the words.

“We’ve got so many things we could show you~

And we only charge one little fee!

A small sample, a touch and a whisper.

One drop of praise,

Set us ablaze,

Covet me like your sweet candy!

Prince Ali!”

They were shifting, color to color, girl to girl. Fez, bindi, purple, short, tall, soft. Each was his partner, each was the musician, each was the other dancer who he could watch bob and play in his eye. But even as he experienced them all, he felt their differences, the directions each took his hands as the music reached towards another crescendo.

Then there was Aliyah, his hands low on her hips, pinching the inch where her waist became her juicy backside. He felt more than saw her legs against his body, then felt her arms hugging behind his neck. He realized he was facing down, towards the dessert floor, with her leg extended so high that he could feel the weight of her thigh resting on top of his shoulder.

He had dipped her. Bent her over backwards, barely able to hold himself upright. His right arm was behind her back, her knee pressing against his ear. Each were breathing hard, each were lightly sweating. His naked middle pressed against her, wet, soft, lovely, her breasts wobbling as she giggled and grinned up into his hungry, roaming eyes.

And he wanted more.

He wanted her to be heavier so that he could feel stronger, wanted her belly to be full so it could grind against his abs. He imagined how his hand would feel, grabbing as much as he could hold of this mischievous girl’s plumpness, imagined her breasts puffing around the tiny top and her belly folding over her jiggly bottoms.

And then she moaned, a low, exquisite sound of purest hedonistic enjoyment, and he could feel that she wanted it too. She wanted him to touch her, to grab her, to drop her to the sands and put himself…

But the sands were gone.

Aladdin blinked, startled, as the girl was suddenly hanging over a dark crimson rug. There was another, then another, and he looked up to see they were in a room covered in carpets and pillows and… and there were windows, but there weren’t any doors.

“My… my…” said a voice from behind him. “He’s even hungrier than I’d thought~”

“D-don’t… scare him…” whispered the girl beneath him. Her hand caught his chin and brought him back to her eyes, which were almost as deep and as bewitching as her movements and her body.

Almost.

“S-sorry,” he swallowed, suddenly aware of his heart in his throat. “I don’t… I uhh…”

The purple-clad girl shivered and he nearly lost himself again, listening to her jingle and feeling her weight in his arm. His shoulders flexed, his breathing caught, but he managed to hold onto his head.

“L-let me help you up,” he said.

The girl looked at him. She was still grinning, though it looked more bemused now than pleasureful. “You know, most men would rather help me down, here~” she replied, her fingers walking up his chest. “Then they’d ask to join me.”

“And of course, she’d say no.”

“But for you, she might make an exception…”

Aladdin looked up again, searching for the other two girls and not seeing anyone. It was just unnerving enough to help him cool his racing mind.

He didn’t feel in danger. He wasn’t sure what he felt. Or rather, what he felthe felt.

But something was strange, and his good instincts told him he’d be better off on his feet than on… someone else. At least in this moment.

He stood back, using his arms to lift the girl upright, and again felt the intrusive thoughts of her weight and his muscles. Something which greatly seemed to amuse the girl.

“Sorry… about that,” he chuckled, rubbing his head.

“He is rather male, isn’t he?” said another of the voices, but this time rather than seeming so incorporeal Aladdin was able to place the voice as… directly above him?

It might have been helped by Aliyah’s rolling eyes and pointed glare, but he looked up to see the other two girls laying upon silken scarves which hung from the ceiling in great billowing waves, hammocks of the same material which made up their light dresses.

“Well of course he’s male!” The shortest girl, holding her fez in her lap, grinned down from the rafters towards Aladdin. “You’re a Prince after all, aren’t you?”

“Uhhh… Ahah, y-yeah,” Aladdin laughed.

The other girl, the tallest with her bright bindi dot, was leaning back further, fingering her strange brass instrument. “So confident,” she said with a sardonic tone. “He doesn’t taste like any Prince I’ve had.”

“Oh, you only had one bite!” Aladdin nearly jumped as Aliyah took hold of his arm and held it to her chest. “Ignore Fatima. She’s just jealous.”

*Ggrruuoouugggghhh…*

The growl from above was something that the young man had only recently heard, but which had left quite the lasting impression. His arm came up before even his startled eyes, instantly taking a step back from the tiger’s growl.

Rather than a gigantic cat, Fatima was leaning over the side of her hammock, her tummy folded in two and her flashy ankle bracelets dangling around her naked feet. Yet, despite her flashy jewels and slender looks, her expression inspired the same hollow anxieties in Aladdin’s stomach that the sounds from the Cave of Wonders had given him, and he found himself taking another step away.

Directly into Aliyah’s embrace.

“Aha~” she giggled, squeezing his shoulder to her bosom. “You truly aren’t like most, are you?”

“Uhh…” Aladdin blinked. He found himself looking from her eyes to her smile. She had soft lips… plump, with just the right amount of gloss. Somewhere in the back of his mind, fear squeaked and trembled. He was in a building with no exits with women he did not know, women who were clearly far more than he seemed… He saw the gleam in Aliyah’s eyes, the twinkle of power that he might have recognized as the breath of magic, had he been able to recognize more than that which was more primordial than fear, more instinctive than worry.

Hunger dulled his mind, quieted his eyes. Aliyah smelled like the fruit of a dessert oasis, and again he pictured her body as a full-figured peach, juicy and plump against the youthful strength grown by his life on the street.

He felt her purr, felt her breath. Felt her breasts, felt her belly.

Mhhhmmm, he felt her whisper enter his mind. Bite after bite… I suppose I wouldn’t mind…

Then Aladdin’s breath froze, his heart seemed to stop, as the bellydancer’s middle grew soft… then grew round. She pressed to his hand like rising dough, a potbelly that was tight and fatty and full. His muscles burned as he felt her weight increase and he began to look down to see with his eyes what his hand could feel, but she caught his chin and made him stare at her lips.

And then he leaned in, wanting nothing more than to have a taste of the desert’s plump fruit, and his heart became thunder as she opened to receive his kiss.

And then his arm became fire, his legs twinging with pain. They gave out from underneath him and, together, the pair collapsed in a mess of tangled limbs and startled yelps.

Aladdin tried to catch her, but instead was brought down with his arm pinched between the pillows on the floor and the plumpness of her body, and found his legs spread to either side of a tanned potbelly. He was on top of her, blinking into her own startled expression.

Laughter came from above, scornful and mean, though he hardly heard it over his hammering heart.

“S-sorry,” he muttered, pushing against the pillows to try and rise to his knees… but his voice sounded weird and knees couldn’t reach the ground. Aladdin registered Aliyah’s blush, her wide eyes looking down at her body. Then he saw his legs tucked against the smooth caramel hills of her breasts, feet barely able to reach the ground on either side of her hips.

She was chubby… she was very chubby, and she looked so much taller now! Had she misunderstood his ideas, made herself into a…

Aladdin kept looking at his legs. He saw the pillows, the rug, his pants, and finally registered the laughter.

“Huh?!?” he asked, sitting back fully astride the woman’s belly. He looked at his skinny arms, his small torso, and felt his head. “You turned me a kid???”

The laughter became greater as Aliyah turned pink enough to truly fit the peachy comparison. “I did no such thing!” she denied, then glared up towards her laughing sisters.

The fez girl, whose name Aladdin still did not know, sat on the edge of her hammock with a humor-filled smirk. Fatima, meanwhile, was laughing so hard that her hammock seemed as if it were about to come undone and send her plummeting to the assembled bedding below.

“You two are so mean,” the fez girl chuckled. “Must you do this with every mortal?”

Aladdin felt himself squirm, a twitching tickle rocking his frame until his knees smacked to the rugs. He caught himself, seeing his adult arms and legs towering over the plump belly dancer, though her pudgy pink pout was nowhere near as kissable as her amorous warmth had been.

A hand came to Aladdin’s shoulder and suddenly she was standing. It hadn’t yanked him or pulled him sideways, he had simply come to his feet and was now standing before the shortest dancer with her colorful fez.

“I apologize for my sisters antics,” she said, still smirking. “They do so love to tease mortal men. Almost as much as they tease one another.”

Aladdin let out a long breath, lightly rocking on his feet. He saw Aliyah still on the floor some feet away, Fatima still in her hammock.

“Mhmm, trouble with your balance?” the girl asked.

“More like my head,” he said. “I’m… are you using magic on me?”

“Oh, absolutely,” the girl nodded. “Since the moment you fell asleep, Prince.”

Aladdin blinked at her. “A-asleep?”

Her smirk widened to show white teeth, her bright eyes flashing with a crimson blaze. Suddenly, Fatima and Aliyah were on either side of her, all three girls standing in a row. “Allow us to properly introduce ourselves. I am Zahra, the wind of the South.”

Fatima curtseyed, her jewelry jingling pleasantly. “Fatima, wind of the East.”

Still blushing, Aliyah cleared her throat before bowing, which did… lovely things to her plumped figure. “Aliyah…of the West,” she coughed.

“And you,” Zahra said, stepping forwards, “are Prince Ali. Are you not?”

Aladdin felt himself turning a similar color to Aliyah. “T-that’s what they call me.”

“A fiction,” Fatima said almost immediately, shaking her head. “Look at how he projects himself! He looks as if a common streetrat.”

“A fact,” Aliyah pointedly replied, crossing her arms. “Can you not smell it on him? He tastes as royal as the Sultan himself.”

“As if you have broken into the Sultan’s palace.”

“I could, were I not held up by your constant belligerence!”

“That’s enough,” Zahra said, stepping forward. Starting at his feet, her eyes lifted to look up Aladdin’s frame and as they went, his usual clothing shifted and changed.

His stitched pants became a rich white cloth, his chest became covered and his vest became a cape of royal fabrics. Gold adorned his shoulders and collar, and his fez shifted to becoming a large cap of princely regalia.

“Ahhh,” Zahra nodded. “As I expected. You’re no stranger to magic. How much have you seen?”

“Eheh…” Aladdin winced. “A bit.”

“It must be powerful magic,” Aliyah breathed. “We spirits are quite adapt… as you might seem” she waved a hand to her pudgy stomach.

“Yeah, eheh…” Aladdin chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “I guess you could say that.”

“I suppose that makes sense. You’ve been teleported enough to make a man sick,” said Fatima, her arms crossed.

Aladdin fidgeted. “Uhh… I was kinda getting there, eheh,” he chuckled. “Could you… not do that, again?”

Fatima nodded, lifting one finger. “Granted. We’ll only edit your appearance from here on.”

“Wait, what?”

A sparkle shot out, snapping towards Aladdin and striking his chest. Unlike earlier, he felt it this time, his body warbling and tickling before his and arms swelled with a *BRUOM* of muscles that made his neck squish up into his chin.

“Yaah!”

“Oooo, now there’s a handsome man!” the tallest dancer chuckled, coming right up to him. “Come, come,” she said with authority, taking his right arm and lifting it. “Flex for me.”

“Uhhh…” he swallowed before moving his arm in and out. It felt almost like it belonged to somebody else, but the woman’s deep purr held a lusty vigor.

The purr became a bright yelp as she suddenly bounced to the side, bounced back towards the smallest girl by a strong gust of wind.

“Too big!” Aliyah said, striking Aladdin with a flick of her own magic.

The Prince’s muscles faded with a *Wooooosh* of winds, all three girls giggling with appreciative laughter as he felt his chest deflate.

“You like them too small!” Fatima giggled as she moved to his right.

“You like them too large!” Aliyah breathed pleasantly as she moved to his left.

Aladdin looked between them, feeling more amused than startled or even worried. He looked ahead to Zahra and asked, “This is all a dream?”

The smallest girl nodded. “A dream of desire,” she came forward, as did her sisters.

And then they began to dance.

Crimson, scarlet, violet flutters, the soft song of jewelry and the pleasant sound of instruments in the wind.

He could no longer tell which of the girls was speaking. Their bodies were too nice, their bellies too attractive. Each of them changed, each growing softer, larger, fatter. They were all different, a tall apple-shape next to a pudgy pear and a bottom-heavy peach, but they were each as lovely as the last.

“You long for love,” said one.

“You lust for softness.”

“You wish for the chance to feel strong.”

They spun around him, jingles and jiggles and round, heavy steps. Wind twirled through his hair, pulling the hat from his head, undoing the magic of his shirt and opening his vest to their fingers and touch.

Zahra was first, hardly up to his chest, but he felt himself warm as her hand slid beneath his waistband to grip his hip. Her fingers tickled his pectoral muscles before guiding his own hand to grip at her fully, fat bottom.

Your hunger… is intoxicating, she whispered in his mind, and he felt her belly swell bigger, pushing against his waist as her rear become rounder against the clasp of his hand. A part of him was aware that she was feasting, growing fatter and larger off of his simple desires.

So he gave her all she could eat, and then gave her more.

She guided him down into a long, laborious kiss, her cheeks full and her chin fattened. When they broke, her eyes smoldered with scarlet fire, the same as the flames of scarlet that *whooshed* around them.

Then she stepped back into the fire, into the wind, and another shape sauntered forth.

Fatima was larger still, nearly as tall as Aladdin himself… but then, he was larger too. He felt the same tickles as before as the might of an ox came into his muscles, but it wasn’t so dramatic this time.

You wish to be mighty, the dancer whispered without moving her lips. Her hands came to his chest, long fingers dancing down his pectorals to his waist before squeezing her thumbs against his abs. A Hero among Princes. Or perhaps even more…

When she looked into him, her eyes were darker, deeper, and he could smell the fruity scent of drink on the air. And, suddenly, his hands were on her waist, cupping the spirit but her chubby love handles.

Your desire is so sweet~

She kissed him, standing up on her toes, and he felt her drink the hunger straight from his lips. It sloshed into her like wine pouring straight down her gullet and into her gut, and he could feel the liquid churn as his strong arms and strong hands squeezed her tighter to him, more deeply into a kiss he could not taste.

When she pulled away, it was too soon. He wanted to hold onto her, to hold onto that strength and that power, but then she was gone, and Aladdin stood before Aliyah.

And never before had he felt so out of place.

He knew instantly that she could see him. Her spirit eyes glimmered with a royal purple, ghostly and unnerving and yet she was smiling. But besides that, besides the wind swirling around them and the jingling from her sisters’ bright bells, the girl looked totally and completely… normal. Bare.

Chubby, soft, a little bit short. But her soft grin was beautiful, and Aladdin somehow knew that was because it was genuine.

You wish to be recognized, Aliyah said quietly. You wish for others to see who you are.

Aladdin swallowed nervously. He felt his neck dip, his eyes going to the floor. He tried to remember what he’d been doing, where he had been. He remembered the cave, remembered the Genuine. He remembered the music and his wish and…

And then Princess Jasmine was standing in front of him. Chubby, soft, but almost entirely unremarkable in the tan clothing and headdress she’d been wearing when he’d first met her. It was just simple street clothes.

And she made them look beautiful.

She walked to him and, despite his urges to reach for her and take her, he felt himself hesitate. The girl was there exactly how he had seen her… but something about it just didn’t feel right.

Mhhmmm, he heard Aliyah whisper in his mind. Nothing I can do could meet that first kiss. You’re lucky I’ve eaten my fill already. Still, I’m tempted to take you… to see how deep your desire may take us. But I think you’ve been buried in the sand for long enough, boy.

Jasmine became Aliyah became all three of the girls, standing so close as the close in upon him. They were each laughing big belly-leaping laughs, amorous and lovely and pushing him down to the pillows.

Covered by their bodies, covered in darkness, Aladdin felt a pair of lips on his cheek and then Aliyah’s whisper.

It takes more than a wish to reach happily ever after.

Wake up, Aladdin.

*****************************************************************************

When Prince Ali awoke in the Sultan’s guest chamber, he had the momentary fear that he was about to be suffocated beneath his own pillows.

The bed was unlike anything he’d ever slept on before, set with what seemed like sixty-three pillows and with silken fabrics which hung down from golden frames. It was more cloud than mattress, and he had to awkwardly flounder to tip himself over and uncover his face.

His hand struck a wet spot where his face had been revealing that he’d been helplessly drooling. His eyes followed the small drizzle up to a particularly fatty looking purple pillow that he seemed to have been… chewing on.

“Ugh… I really hoped the Sultan’s servants don’t look too closely at these…”

A low thump came from the bottom of the bed and he looked up to see a large looming shadow behind the silk. A brief moment of fear went through the boy, remembering the tall and imposing figure that had been with the Sultan, but the shadow was bigger than that. Far bigger! And a little gray trunk began to pull back the sheet!

“Ah! Abu!” Ali bounced down, taking the trunk and rubbing it fondly.

The monkey-turned- pachyderm leaned in closer, pushing the silk aside behind his massive gray ears. His eyes were bright and he looked excited, letting out several low toots from his trunk.

“Hey, buddy. You sleep well?” Aladdin asked, reaching up to his ear. “You wouldn’t believe the dream I was having.”

Abu released a louder toot, as if to cut Ali off, then glanced several times towards the side.

“Huh? What’s up, buddy?”

Abu’s trunk wrapped around his back, twisting Ali’s head to look towards his left where a slight figure stood outlined in shadow against the silk.

“I can come back later if you’d like,” Princess Jasmine breathed. “But I thought… you know, we should have breakfast together. I brought toast.”

Ali fumbled over himself twisting to make sure none of his drool had gotten onto his night clothes. At the last moment he took the large pillow and tossed it out the other side of the bed and then opened the silk.

“Jasmine! Hi! I wasn’t expecting…”

Ali’s heart had risen up to his chest at her voice, had become like thunder at seeing her soft smile and her simple dress… and then it fell into the pit of his stomach when she saw the trey she was carrying.

“Is something wrong?” Jasmine asked, looking down at the eggs, buttered toast, and the two glasses of orange juice. “I didn’t burn anything, did I? I’m not used to making things myself, but… well, I thought it’d make a nice first.”

“N-no no,” Ali waved off her concerns, stepping out from the bed. “It looks great! I’m starving, could probably eat a whole camel!”

“Oh!” Jasmine’s grin perked up at the corner as she said, “Well, I’m not sure I could fit one on the tray, but maybe we should just start with the toast See where things go from there.” And then she gave a lovely wink.

“Heh,” he laughed. “Y-yeah. Here, allow me.” He took the tray from her, his left thumb stroking his discarded hat and the golden lamp that sat inside of it.

He’d nearly died last night. He remembered the weight, the sea, how he’d used his second wish. He’d been saved by the Genie and revealed Jaffar’s plot. The sorcerer had been banished… and Ali was engaged.

“Okay,” he said awkwardly, forcing a grin. “Do we, uhh, have anywhere to sit?”

Jasmine lifted a speculative eyebrow. “What, haven’t you been in a palace before?” she laughed, gesturing off to the side. “Every room has a place to sit!”

“O-oh, yeah,” he tried to chuckle. “Of course.”

He went with her, watching the lamp slightly move as he walked. The tension and worry of the coming conversation was already welling up inside of him, unsure what to do or to say. He’d made a promise to Genie, his third wish should free him… but Ali was engaged.

Not Aladdin.

He tried to put on a good spirit as they ate together, talking about Jaffar and how excited her father was to have found such a good suitor, but Ali’s mind could not change from that singular worry. What if he needed that third wish?

Then he noticed something different on the tray. Something he’d completely overlooked, just behind his discarded hat. A vase with a single flower gave off a wonderful color, a deep violet purple mixed with a pair of twin reds.

“You’re nervous too,” Jasmine said, “Aren’t you?”

Ali opened his mouth to wave off the concern, but he looked into her eyes, and Aladdin replied.

“Yeah. A bit. It’s… there’s a lot going on. I think I’ve gotta just go for a walk and… clear my head.”

Jasmine nodded. “Yeah. It’s been… a busy few days.”

“Yeah you ain’t kidding,” he huffed. “Thanks for the breakfast. It was the first time I… Ever had anything like that.”

Another quizzical eyebrow and a disbelieving smirk. “It was just eggs and toast,” she said.

“I mean someone who would bring it for me.”

“Oh!” Jasmine said, then her eyelashes fluttered and a slight pink tint came to her cheeks. “Oh… yeah. I liked it. Eating with someone I… like. Well, other than Rajah. Or Father… well, most days. It kind of made things a bit…”

She met Aladdin’s eyes, grinning a pleasant smile through her red blush.

“Tastier.”

Patrons' Prompt Obesity Breached: Security Button Breach

Fat Woman Jumpscare

Fat Woman Jumpscare

Speaking of stuffing yourself into a worksuit... Vanessa has to work really hard to protect her tampered mind. Her chair has to work much harder to protect her fattened ass!

************************************************

This story artwork was suggested and voted for by previous Patreons! Thank you very much for your chubby suggestions, and follow this link if you'd like to revisit the story this art is paired with! https://www.deviantart.com/undertaker33/art/FNAF-Obesity-Breached-903449005

Follow Rtil’s post for more wonderful cuties! He’s been doing animations for Patreon lately, and they’re very lovely!!

https://www.patreon.com/rtil

https://twitter.com/rtil?s=21&t=W9PC3VJJZRjKoQNDatNjxA

The Juicy Club: I've Got a Blueberry for a Valentine!

Is there anything nicer than pampering your blueberry with chocolates and cakes for a lovely spa date

This juicy artwork is for both Valentine's Day and Lilly's Birthday, which was earlier this month! It's paired with A Blueberry's Birthday! which is the short story that I just released!

This artwork was provided by Ramen, who did an excellent job with their first full blueberry arts! Please follow his links down below!

https://www.patreon.com/RamenWarwok

https://twitter.com/Lewdwok

https://www.deviantart.com/ramenwarwok

The Juicy Club: A Blueberry's Birthday!

“Another serving, Miss Lilly?”

Lilly sighed in pampered bliss. The steam and the sweat that clung to her body felt wondrous. She felt so luscious and lovely that she was completely unbothered by her immobility, instead enjoying how her belly muffined over her tights and how her weight so completely smothered her groin to the warm stones below.

The air was filled with her scent, dribbles of sweat and steam that clung to her stomach and sides and shoulders, a juicy wetness she felt in her towels and crotch, but another scent tickled the blueberry's nose. Chocolate, heavy, wet, freshly baked chocolate.

"Oooo," hummed the lady, and *Goooowwwlll...* purred her belly. She had to stop herself from licking her lips. "Is it another box?"

"Not quite~" laughed the voice, coming up to her side.

As she grew closer, the scent grew stronger, and Lilly's vast body shivered with gluttonous want.

"We had a little idea," the helper said. "Or, I suppose, the idea was mine~"

Lilly felt her nose lift and fall, her head turning to follow the voice. The scent of chocolate was strong enough to give her belly goosebumps, an oddly chilling sensation in such a warm place.

The singsong tone became belabored, an awkward heft of heavy exertion. There was a soft thud that Lilly pictured as her stepping stool, then she heard the girl mount it before a hand came to her chest, mushing her right breast as the girl steadied her climb.

"My," Lilly breathed. "I feel I always have trouble picturing myself until somebody touches me. It's such a strange thing. I can feel almost all of it, especially with how wide my stomach feels or how my ankles are just covered by flesh, but feeling your hand... well, it makes me glad that I can't use my own too well!"

"At least you... have... your bell," the voice wheezed.

Lilly immediately felt a bit bad for the girl. She was much more pleasant than her counterpart, but that was likely because she'd already possessed such a rubenesque nature... Even so, the step stool was less than five steps and the poor thing sounded winded. Perhaps she too was bigger than Lilly could currently imagine,

Then all of these thoughts went up in a flash as she smelled something new directly before her nose. Something which had been hidden by the scent of the chocolate, smothered beneath her own bodily sweat. It was the scent of burning wax.

"Oh, my..." she breathed, her blind eyes closed as she drank in the scent. "Is this...?"

"Don't play dumb," chuffed the voice. "You already know what it is."

She did.

Candles placed atop of a chocolate cake.

"I already know when her birthday was, so it's wasn't really hard to connect the dots!"

"Goodness..." the blueberry felt herself blush. "Really, you didn't have to-"

"Can it," the woman said harshly, though she sounded as if she were smiling. "I wanted to. Besides, a nice birthday cake should be way more filling than some Valentine's chocolates."

"I suppose that's true..." Lilly said softly. Her stomach was much louder and much more demanding, releasing a fatty rumble so loud that the juice inside of her rippled and made a soft splashing.

"And, if you still have room, I might already have started baking another~"

Lilly felt her blush grow as bright as her hunger had grown deep. A hand Here, I got a piece. Blow out the candles on it!"

Lilly obliged, blowing out a warm air from her chubby violet cheeks.

"Excellent,” said the girl and Lilly felt her bulk shift as she pulled back the slice and begun to remove the candles. “I hope you made a good wish! Now, open!"

"Hmm," Lilly grinned. "I can think of one thing I want~”

Then, she opened her mouth and had her wish granted.

[$5+] January Patrons’ Prompt Poll: Story Artwork

The poll for January's Patreon Story Artwork!  These suggestions are made by the folks in the $15 Content Creator tier. Thanks again for your prompts!

Cast your votes and comments down below!

References are included for each option, with a tiny touch of text to give the basic concept! I've still never gotten any RWBY arts, so their reference is taken from their show while all others use series & character artworks!

Winter's Warmth P.3

Chloe waddled swiftly across the walkway, her pace quickening with each bite of chocolate covered strawberry while Auvie matched her stride. Sammy, still in self-imposed agony, lagged behind and watched as the two made for the alcove side-by-side.

It proved as tight a fit as Chloe’s dress.

Their hips caught, a shapely cherry tart squishing against a fat Christmas ham, but Auvie deftly caught herself and turned, giggling brightly as she gestured for Chloe to take the lead.

Sammy noticed the pixie’s flickering eyes, the lightness that came with her next pleasing breath. But it was hard to tell if Chloe had even noticed she’d nearly been stuck, simply taking the movement in stride as she plucked the next cocoa-covered fruit from her tray and tossed if wholly into her mouth.

They continued down the slim hallway, nearing the red light of a glowing sign. The emergency exit marker was the only illumination of the elevator and its tiny panel until Chloe, with the point of her elbow, depressed the button and turned it bright white. She turned sideways, leaning her rear against the wall and taking up most of the hallway with her belly. The elevator was on the right side, near the emergency exit.  She thunked the call button with the point of her elbow, turning back to Auvie.

“Ya know,” she spoke to the pixie, still loudly mashing another chewy strawberry. “I co’ld ge’ oosed to pwaches ‘ike this!” The big woman swallowed and her belly made a small noise of delight. “Gosh. I’ve met more people today than my whole college career.”

Auvie hummed, seemingly pleased. “Shows like this are more for networking than anything. I’m glad to have introduced you to so many new people.”

Chloe turned to Sammy, her face glowing pleasantly. “Auvie knows, like, everyone. Do you know the candy shop downtown, Raffie’s?”

The big blonde blinked at her. “Uhh… no, I mostly get snacks from, like, the grocery store.”

“Umph, yeah you do!” Chloe swallowed another strawberry. “I get stuff from there all the time. You and Nat always go through it, the boxes that I keep on the coffee table?”

“Oh.” Sammy recalled, “the chocolates?”

She had a very specific memory of Chloe telling her that she’d signed up for a subscription service to be delivered each month. She also remembered having maybe one truffle once, as the specialty chocolates very rarely lasted more than two days before the box would sit empty.

“Mhmm! They’re all gourmet!” Chloe beamed. “She’s here, and she’s super nice!”

“Ahh. That’s cool,” Sammy said.

“We also met with Mr. Dunkle, who runs Sweety’s Bakery, and Gracie Garland who run’s that café on Park Street. They offered me discounts next time I came in!”

The elevator dinged before Sammy could ask if she’d met anyone who wasn’t somehow involved with food, and the three girls filled in.

“Mpgh. Seriously, though,” Chloe groaned. “It’s been a really busy day. I hope they’ve got like coffee or something at the bar.”

Sammy paused hallway through the elevator door. The other two didn’t seem to notice, with Auvie continuing, “I doubt they do. But, we could get Cosmos! They’re super sugary, that’ll give you a good kick.”

“Oh, really?? I’ve never had one.”

“Mhmm! Ooo, or maybe Piña Coladas?”

“Oh I had one of those on vacation once!”

Slowly, Sammy came back to life, groaning and letting her head hang back as she fully came through. “Ahhh… shit.”

“Hmm? What’s wrong?”

Sammy raised an arm, brushing her hair back. “Ahh, I sent a server to get a drink for me. He probably took the stairs, might have delivered it to the table already.”

“What kind of drink was it?”

“Uhh, a Frappuccino,” Sammy shrugged. “Feeling kinda tired, thought I could really use a coffee.”

“Hmm~” Auvie grinned her irritating smile, her eyes falling towards Sammy’s stuffed stomach. “I hear those have lots of sugar in them. And chocolates~”

“Mph yeah, don’ ‘ou fink you’ve ha’ enuff choco’ate aready?” Chloe said through another juicy mouthful, flecks of melted syrup sticking to her lips.

Sammy glared at her before reaching out and taking a sample from the tray and thunking her fist against the elevator’s button. “Whatever.”

“I’m sheriosh!” Chloe continued to puff, but the conversation was stopped when, as soon as they closed, the elevator doors reopened.

A similar confused expression colored each girl, but they all became very different when, all at once, they looked up from the glowing number two to a tiny red light that flashed on the panel. Next to it was printed an even smaller three letter word that caused an immense reaction.

Max.

Sammy’s face became sour, a pained realization on an aching body.

Auvie had lifted a hand to cover her mouth, but a crack appeared in the mask to the sound of a stifled giggle.

And Chloe stood still, eyes wide and fluttering, frozen mid-bite of her sixth chocolate strawberry.

“Oh, gracious me,” Auvie breathed, her hand going from her mouth to just over her chest. “We’re too heavy to go up. We must be over the limit. What does it say?”

Sammy, her breathing more like a bull than a fatty, growled the script printed on the panel’s button. “For light use only. Load may not exceed… eight-hundred pounds.”

Nobody looked at one another, but Sammy could feel both herself and Auvie staring at Chloe from the corner of their eyes, still frozen solid with the strawberry stuck between her teeth, her chin tucked into a smooth, fatty roll.

Auvie spoke first, a shiver of delight trembling up her curvy frame. “Hooougghh…” she breathed. “Delicious.” She turned to Sammy and asked, “Do you remember how many confections you could fit onto each plate?”

Sammy’s teeth ground. The truth was, she had no idea how many plates she’d snapped down from the feast. But whether it was five plates or ten hardly mattered. She wasn’t half of the problem, here.

“Ahhhh,” Auvie’s eyes closed, her body shuddering with the long sigh in a way that made her own curviness shake. “How embarrassing this is. What about your weight? Do you have any idea what you look like on a scale?”

The beefy blonde’s fist closed tight enough to make her fingers crack.

Damn the niceties. Damn the smugness, the fake smiles and the wicked-

“Wait… no way that could be… Is it broken? It has to be… right?”

Sammy stopped, turning to look at Chloe. The pink blush that so normally colored her chubby cheeks was gone, her skin blanched as white as sugar. She still stared at the light, her bitten strawberry held between two fingers, squeezed so tight that the juice dripped now around Chloe’s finger and thumb.

For some reason, the image of the strawberry put a hole in Sammy’s stomach.

Every burst button, every torn thread, every outgrown outfit and overfed feast. Chloe had gone from a size five to what seemed more and more like a size fifty, all the while seemingly in this deep state of denial. The clothes she bought weren’t big enough, the portions she ordered were always too small. Stairs were too high, distance was too long. But she’d never stepped on a scale, never had herself pressed up to the numbers…

But the world had improvised one with a small elevator.

“It… it has to be sort of malfunction... but that doesn’t… It can’t… I can’t…” her chubby chin stammered, and her eyes began to lower to look towards herself.

They were caught, as was her chin, when they met the grin of the pixie who was pressed up to her belly.

“It’s my fault,” Auvie breathed, her hand coasting over her chest and down to her waist. “I had a very big breakfast today. You know how I can go… overboard~”

Chloe stared at the hand, the slim stomach, and Sammy felt the breath in her lungs go stale. Standing belly to belly, face to face, wearing the same exact dress. They couldn’t look any more different to Sammy.

But she could see the reflection in Chloe’s eyes.

“Y-yeah…” Chloe whispered the lie. “That makes sense.”

“It does, doesn’t it,” Auvie breathed, taking a step back, Chloe’s eyes holding directly to hers. She nodded, turning her false smile and false words over to Sammy. “It was five plates, wasn’t it?” she asked, turning to Sammy. “I didn’t miscount?”

The dead air in Sammy’s lungs strangled her throat. She mouthed the words but nothing came out.

Auvie dismissed the silence, a cat deciding not to play with it’s mouse. She looked back to Chloe. “Eight-hundred pounds isn’t that much. After all, I’m two-hundred pounds on an empty stomach...” She took another step forward, closing the distance until they were once more belly-to-belly. “And, like I said. I feel… ravenous today.”

Sammy’s eyes worked far better than her throat. She looked Auvie up, down, up, down. How her soft breasts bobbed, how one of her hands clutched her slim belly while the other pinched the single inch of weight on her hips. She was breathing heavy, the velvet of her dress skating against Chloe’s.

She wasn’t fat, she wasn’t even close. But she was glutting herself on this moment.

“Y-you are?” Chloe asked, then shook her head. “Oh, yeah… Yeah. Yeah! You do kinda… overdo it. Sometimes. So I guess that would match…”

Sammy’s eyes flashed, watching as Chloe’s chest began to move, her breathing begin to stabilize. There was a familiar look as her eyesight stabilized, and she let out a longer breath.

“Geez. Must have been a big breakfast,” she nodded.

Auvie’s smile belonged on a leopard. “The biggest,” she curtsied, her five-foot frame slim and dainty as she stepped back through the elevator and into the dark hallway. “I’ll take the stairs up. Meet me at the bar?”

“Okay. Yeah,” Chloe nodded. “I guess I can let you get me one.”

And then the elevator doors closed, the last thing showing was Auvie’s bright eyes atop of a smile, made all the more monstrous because it was genuine.

A click came, then a slow whirr, and the elevator began to climb.

Sammy didn’t know what to say. She stood there, still blinking, still trying to process everything that had happened. She felt her chest swell, and the pangs of pain and heat returned from her stomach with a deep, bubbling *auuoooouuggh* that made her squelch and lean out for the wall.

“Ah,” she heard Chloe move beside her. “Right. Knew I packed these for a reason.”

Sammy looked down, seeing a small tube inside of Chloe’s outstretched hand. She wordlessly took it, another stab from her stomach becoming a stifled belch of hot air. “What are these?” she asked, turning the tube over in her fingers. A button on the top seemed to open the other side.

“Antacids, obviously,” Chloe said as Sammy clicked the button. A tiny tablet, as big as a Skittle but flat and white, came out the top. “It’s a portable dispenser. The container’s too big to fit in my purse.”

“Oh…” Sammy said flatly, looking at the tablet.

“… Have you never had them before?” Chloe asked. “Ugh. What is with you two?? Nat had no idea either, and she’s a blimp!”

“What does that…” Sammy blinked at her.

“Ugggh,” Chloe groaned, her usual bluster returning. She came closer, her hand going down to poke Sammy’s gut. “When you eattoo many sweets, you’ll give yourself heartburn. Too much chocolate or caffeine, and it triggers acid reflex. Didn’t you ever go trick-or-treating as a kid?”

“Y-yeah…?”

Chloe rolled her eyes, taking the dispenser and clicking another tablet into Sammy’s hand. “Seriously. You think you’d be used to being a fatass by now.”

Sammy began to respond but Chloe touched a finger to her wrist, gesturing upwards.

“Go on. Try ‘em, you’ll feel better.”

“Yeah, you’re an expert then?”

“I just told you I’d go trick-or-treating. I started carrying these on me when I was like twelve, with bandages and pain killer,” the big woman jostled her purse. “It’s like you guys just never think, I swear.”

Another bubbling broil contested with Sammy’s response. She bit down on both, upending the tablets into her mouth, and felt a brief moment of surprise at the minty taste before, with a crunch and a swallow, an intense sense of relief immediately began to settle over her body.

“Oouugggh,” she breathed at the welcoming chill.

“Yeah, it’s fast isn’t it?”

“Very…” Sammy sighed, then coughed lightly, lifting herself up from the wall. “Huh. Thanks.”

Chloe shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s why I got the thing. Just go easier for the rest of the night.”

“Sure. You too.”

“Pfft,” Chloe snorted. “I know my limits.”

A quiet air came back into the elevator with the two girls standing close together, the low whirr of the machine slowly lifting them.

Really… slowly…

Sammy was only beginning to notice just how slowly the machine seemed to be progressing when Chloe thumped her elbow.

“So, what’s in the box?”

“Eh?”

Sammy looked down. She hadn’t even realized she was still holding the giftbox until she saw herself holding on by the strap, the words ‘Open in case of chocolate emergency’ seeming to smile up at her.

“Oh. I don’t know. Nat and Halie gave it to me.”

“Open in case of… oooo,” Chloe lifted her hands, doing a light shake. “Do you think it’s cookies??”

Sammy thought for a moment before looking towards the bigger girl and her soft smile, and a slow chuckle rose inside of her. “Actually, it probably is, yeah.”

“You should open it!”

Sammy turned, leaning fully against the elevator wall and looking towards Chloe. “Don’t you have a tray full of… strawberries?”

Both of the girls looked at the emptied tray. Two dozen muffin wrappers sat emptied, small flecks of berry juice and melted chocolate scattered about.

“They never give you enough at these things,” Chloe puffed, turning the tray sideways. The wrappers tumbled to the floor and she placed the tray sideways, leaning against the rear wall. “It’s honestly kinda lame. I mean, I thought there was gonna be this huge show but you just walk around and, like, meet people. And it’s so shabby, too!!”

The blonde lifted an eyebrow. “Shabby?”

“Yeah. I mean, you saw the people all walking around in dress-up? I’ve seen better costumes at Santa’s Village at the Mall!” she leaned back, her belly flexing her dress as she laughed.

Sammy watched her laugh. How her skin hopped, how her breasts lifted and fell, how the red dress and tight belt made her jiggle like a bowl full of jelly. It filled the elevator with an infectious warmth. Not the bubbling acid of Sammy’s insides, Chloe’s laugh was like a warm blanket being placed on your shoulders, and she decided then that she liked her laugh.

Smiling, she felt herself shrug, and she began to undo the ribbon that topped the small gift. Sure enough, the scent of warm cookies wafted up from the box, bringing a delightfully hungry growl and a purr of excitement.

Sammy took out the first cookie, passing it to Chloe and then getting her own.

Why should they wait for something to go wrong?

Chocolate was best when everything was just right.

“Mhhhmmmm,” Chloe gushed, oozing against the rear wall of the elevator. “Halie’s baking is so good…”

“It’s only gotten better, too.”

“Mph! She’s getting a lot of practice!”

The two girls each lovingly chewed their cookies, thinking of their friends back at home.

“God, and what’s with this elevator??” Chloe asked. “Did they set the limit higher than it could handle??”

As if the mechanism itself could hear her, there was a loud click, a low hum, and the elevator came to a complete stop. Sammy felt a moment of dread before the doors clicked open and revealed Auvie standing there, grinning ear to ear and holding an extra-large iced Frappuccino.

Winter's Warmth P.2

Hatred, then.

“Winning,” she replied numbly, and her stomach punctuated it with flexing squeeze that became a loud, **HIC!!** “Ough… can you get me… another water?”

“Are you crazy?!”

Sammy turned.

She was met with a red expanse of velvet stretched so wide that it was all Sammy’s dull eyes could see. It looked lovely, soft to touch but gripping, like a lovely round pillow where someone quite lucky might rest their head. The fabric looked nice too, albeit a bit tight, especially where a white belt of silk tucked in the round waist and where a shadowy indent outlined a chubby navel.

The belly swelled with an angry puff before a finger appeared beneath Sammy’s chin and dragged her up, past the velvet top and the puffy furs, to look into an equally red glow that burned on the chubby cheeks of an angry ice queen.

“You are embarrassing me!” Chloe hissed, her blue eyes as cold as the glacial walls, her face as warm as Sammy’s gut. “You didn’t wanna wear the dress, that’s fine, but you’re just sitting here the whole time stuffing your face! If I’d known you’d do that, I would have just brought Nat!!”

Sammy brushed away the finger with the same contempt as an annoyed cat. “You didn’t invite me… dumbass,” she wheezed. “I got an invite of… my own…”

“She invited you because you’re my friend, idiot!!”

Sammy shook her head, and her unbound hair tickled her naked shoulders. “My invite… was because… I’m blonde.”

A long pause followed before Chloe, her teeth gnashing, whisper-hollered, “What does that even mean?!?”

“Ahaaa~ And yes, here you are!” came a new voice, its accent hanging on each word like the purr of a kitten. “I had guessed you’d be on the second floor still, attacking our desserts, but my twin here knew right where you’d be!”

Chloe turned, revealing the speaker like the sun rising above a red globe. Her skin was fair, her hair a curly brown-blonde that fell to her hips, but it was her grin that sharpened Sammy’s eyes from chocolate-filled spoons into hazelnut daggers.

Auvie should have looked average. Average-sized, average-weight. She was a touch small, a touch curvy… but here, she looked dainty. She was graceful, innocent even. The friendly blonde girl who lived in the mansion next door. There was a hidden sense of beauty, like a sculpture of ice whose red-and-white dress was the perfect fit in the shadow of Chloe’s obesity.

Never before had the same dress looked so different. A shared dark velvet, a shared silken belt, but while Auvie’s dress made her look slender and thin, Chloe looked as wide as a truck. Where Auvie’s was long, falling just beneath her knees, Chloe’s was short, barely reaching down past her hips and exposing the war that her thunder thighs waged. Auvie’s middle looked trim, even a little bit strong, but Chloe had a belly made from scoops of cookie dough topped with dark cherry ice cream.

A shapely brownie next to a red Christmas ornament, Auvie’s well-manicured hand was raised to cover the hideous mask that was her friendly grin.

“Honestly,” she said, her words huskily pitched in a contralto French accent, “I cannot say that I blame you. I too have been feeling rather ravenous, but you know these showrunners. Always fashionably late.”

“Ugh, don’t encourage her,” Chloe placed a hand on her hip, which made her belly seem to puff even further. “She’s never been to a fashion show in her life! I thought you’d get drunk or something. At least that’d be more fun than just sitting here.”

Sammy might have bitten the woman of dough had she not taken two steps away. “The food is free,” she hissed through her teeth. “The bar isn’t.”

“Oh, good lord,” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Have you really been drinking nothing but water, again? What is with you and always worrying about money?”

Damn the pain, damn the distance, damn the pain! Sammy was inches from throwing herself at Chloe when the smaller woman stepped forward, clearing her throat and bowing her head.

“If it is trouble,” she said, curtsying, “The Midas family would happily allow you to dine on our dime.”

The heat cooled inside of Sammy’s lungs, the melting pot in her belly impacted by an air of frost. But it was not a calming sensation, nor did it last. As the chill impacted her stomach, carried by the words and the shining eyes of the winter pixie, steam bubbled and broiled and rose and Sammy felt her anger swell inside of her like steam in a boiler with a faulty shield.

Fesauvia Midas was gorgeous. While her body and height would have her blend into a crowd, the rest of her glimmered as bright as a gem. Hard to miss, and impossible to forget. Her eyes were bright with an attractive color, their long lashes further enhanced by just the right touches of dark makeup on flawless skin. She was the only girl that Sammy knew who managed to make wingtip eyeliner look more cute than sexy. This fact in particular infuriated Sammy, who could barely wear makeup at all without looking like a chubby blonde clown.

That striking complexion was further enhanced by the way that she wore her hair, using a usually simple but always fashionable headband to hold back her bangs. It shouldn’t look as good as it did, headbands like that were for tweenagers from the 1970s, but it meant that whenever you looked at her, you were always looking into those big, sparkling eyes.

She and Chloe had interned together at some microbiology lab and the woman was, allegedly, a very competent worker. She also came from a family that seemingly had enough money to purchase Pluto. The first time Sammy ever met her was when her family’s driver nearly ran her over with the pearl white tank that was their family’s car.

They’d both been invited to Chloe and Nat’s for movies and pizza, and the incident in the parking lot hadn’t been the best first impression. Sammy had been willing to overlook it, but her opinion quickly worsened when Auvie introduced herself using a French accent that was so thick and sloppy that it could only have come out of Hollywood. When the pizzas arrived, Auvie had snobbishly turned up turned up her nose at the offered sodas and drinks, behaving particularly towards the ‘Thrift market cola’ that Sammy had brought. She left shortly after, unable to make it halfway through The Black Widows of Mars (which was one of Nat’s favorites).

Ever since then, Sammy had disliked the girl tremendously, and had told Chloe as such multiple times. She was just some rich, Brady Bunch bitch, whose accent was surely as fake as her weird name.

The boiler in Sammy’s belly bubbled and panged, hot anger swirling up against the cold wind. Several of the lines threatened to burst from the pressure, others risked popping just from the movement caused by her breathing. Sammy’s fingers clutched the table and she began to lift herself up from her seat so she could be eye to eye with the little twerp, but her entire train of thought was severed as Chloe interrupted by… lazily stretching, her big belly swelling so much that it cut off their view.

“Psh, don’t sweat it none, Auvie,” she waved her off with a yawn. She lifted her fatty arms up over her shoulders, the motion carrying her dress up another few inches. “She’s already on my bill. I promised I’d treat her if she came.”

Sammy stopped moving.

Which, as it turned out, was a very good thing, because the freeze caused her to realize just how badly her cheap dress had begun to strain. With it caught as it was between her pantyhose and her stuffed-solid gut, it would have surely torn if she did anything as laborious as trying to force her way up.

“Aha, you are positive?” she heard Auvie ask. “The bill at these socials can be rather high~”

“Please,” Chloe rolled her eyes. “I can afford more than a couple of drinks.” She moved forwards, passing by Sammy to reach another seat where a tiny black handbag had been hung from the back. Sammy hadn’t even noticed it. She couldn’t remember ever seeing her friend wearing a purse at all, and especially nothing so tiny.

Chloe’s schoolbag was a satchel that could have been used by the postmaster, with enough space for her books, her supplies, her wallet, a phone, a charger, and around two-dozen snacks that she’d munch on throughout day. The purse she had now didn’t even have room for a container of cookies. It was hard to believe she really owned such a thing.

Chloe scooped the little handbag over her shoulder before going to Sammy’s side. “Come on, Porky,” she said, offering her hand.

Sammy blinked at it. Then, after a quick adjustment of her dress, she took the hand and rose out of her seat with only marginal complaints from her dress, but much more substantial ones from her stomach.

“Ooouuugggh,” she huffed, holding a hand over her distended belly. She felt the burbling heat return, low and acidic, hanging to her exhaled breath.

“You okay?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah. Just need something… cool.”

“Hmph,” Chloe puffed before she turned to start walking. “Come on, we’ll take the elevator up to the bar!”

Sammy stood for a moment, watching after her. She felt Auvie brush past her and turned to see the small woman’s bright eyes looking directly down at her stomach.

She was grinning.

“A drink or two will be good for you,” the pixie purred. “That should help you… loosen up.”

Sammy began to reply, but Auvie continued away, skipping lightly to come up alongside of Chloe, and Sammy could only grumble something under her breath about ‘loosen your jaw…’ before, shuddering, she followed the two girls across the dining floor.

It took longer than it should have to really catch up with the pair. With her stomach stuffed solid, the wobbles and jiggles of her usual pace placed pins and needles across her belly. She tried not to pay any attention to it, but it was hard not to when she had to try and hold herself steady and fight just to breathe.

Instead, she adjusted her dress and fixed her ears. She tried to focus on the music, a soft but bassey tune which thumped from the elevated floor. Then she wondered how long this show was supposed to keep going, or why the fashion show itself hadn’t started yet. Sure, the dim runway didn’t really interest Sammy, but it seemed disingenuous to call this a fashion show if it really it was really just a rich meet and greet.

A thought struck her, suggesting Sammy reach into her dress and fish out her phone so she could check the time.

She did not.

Another thought came, telling her she might look towards the mouth of the runway and see if people were at least getting ready or something.

But she didn’t do that either.

Sammy’s mind continued to cycle, telling her to look towards the people she could still feel looking at her, or to look down at her hands or her belly or the little she could see of her feet as she walked. She might look to the crowd, she might see someone that she knew, or some famous celebrity, but despite all these thoughts, Sammy could not sway herself from looking at where Chloe’s panties were outlined by her tight dress.

With Auvie beside her, it made it so much more obvious, so much more drastic. Her thighs were wider than the girl next to her, tubes of vanilla frosting that squished and rolled off the other. White fluff lifted her shoulders and sagged her biceps, and there was a roll where her dress was pinched beneath her underarms. But it was her panties, almost fully outlined, that made the biggest difference, because they were so showy and big that Sammy had to wonder if Chloe’s hips were wider than Auvie’s torso was tall.

She did catch up eventually, a caffeinated snail could outpace Chloe’s buttery waddle, but she couldn’t stop looking and comparing the two. She remembered a conversation she’d had with Nat once about apples and pears, but the only thing she could think of right now was some such fairy tale about a giant peach.

*Arrrruuuooooogggghhh!*

Sammy winced, slowing for a moment and finally lifting her eyes from Chloe’s backside. She pushed out a breath, really feeling the effect of her feasting now that she was moving so much and her belly kept mixing. Instinctively, she lifted a fist to her mouth before releasing hiccup of heat and swollen regrets.

“Ugh… no more,” she panted to herself. “Something cold…”

“Hmm, hmm. Your friend looks as if she’s ready to burst~”

Sammy reopened her eyes just in time to stop herself from walking into the others, who must have heard her… or maybe her stomach. In fact, a quick glance made Sammy realize that, though they had exited the dining area and were nearing the alcove where the elevators must assumedly be, there were people milling and chatting on either side of the pathway, and nearly a dozen were looking towards her.

“God. How much did you eat anyways?” Chloe asked, hand on her hip. “I can’t believe you didn’t have anything to drink yet.”

“I had a couple waters,” Sammy shrugged, awkwardly. “And maybe like a plate or two. I wasn’t really counting.”

“It was five.”

Both Chloe and Sammy looked down towards Auvie, who held a single finger up to her smiling lips.

“I was counting,” she winked. “You could have cleaned out a bakery. It’s lucky that so many people at these events are always on diets.”

Chloe snorted and Sammy’s teeth clamped down on her toxic response as if it were another cherry tart.

“Mmfh, it must be good then,” Chloe said next, turning back towards the crowd and beginning to move towards the hallway. “I could really go for a plate of my own.”

She stopped when Auvie reached out, gently but noticeably touching her elbow before Chloe waddle out into the wake. With the perfect air of absolute confidence, she lifted her hand into the air and snapped her fingers.

“May I help you, Madame Midas?”

The voice had come so quick and from so close that Sammy jumped, twisting in the air and catching her cankle against a nearby person’s chair. She would have gone down had an arm not come up behind her, catching her balance.

She twisted, looking at the man who had steadied her with one arm while his other perfectly balanced a snack-packed tray with plump chocolate strawberries. He wasn’t old, wasn’t young. Wasn’t small, wasn’t tall. He wasn’t anything. His bright suit and white tie made him nearly melt into the decorative background, and his flat eyes and flatter expression made him entirely unremarkable.

“Yes, hello,” Auvie greeted the man with a curtsy before gesturing to Chloe. “My twin here is feeling rather hungry and would like something to snack on.”

“Twin?” the man asked, looking from Auvie’s gesture to Chloe… and then passing onto Sammy, clearly not understanding.

Auvie’s cough was nearly as piercing as Chloe’s glare. “Can’t you tell?” she asked, stepping closer to Chloe. She would have needed to stood on a stepladder to reach the girl’s height, but she cast an impressive shadow over the man all the same. “Don’t we look exactly alike?”

A tense silence passed before the man bowed his head and said, “Aha, I see.” He glanced once more at Sammy, making sure her feet were steady before removing his arm and swiveling the tray towards Chloe. “A sample, Mademoiselle?”

“Hmph!” Chloe puffed, reaching to take one of the strawberries from the package. She turned up her nose, a haughty expression making it seem as if she were about to berate the man… but then her eyes fluttered, and she looked at the half-eaten strawberry.

Loud and low, a rumble rose from girl’s belly. It was so powerful that Sammy thought she might feel it through the floor. Her nose flared, the tension rolling out of her stance and her shoulders, and the girl’s rumble became a contented purr.

“Mmmh… yummy~” she gushed. She tossed the rest of the strawberry into her mouth before, as slow as a glacier and just as unstoppable, she reached out her hand…

… and took the entire tray.

“Dewishesh!” she huffed, lifting another of the sweets up to her lips. “Thanks!”

It lasted for only a breath, but the man’s eyebrows perked in purest confusion before, with a glance at Auvie, he bowed and backed away as Chloe deftly flicked the cupcake wrapper off of what would surely be the first of many.

“Mmph,” she hummed to herself, biting the sweet in half. “Juicy~ Deesh are greaaat.”

“I thought you’d think so,” Auvie nodded. Then she gestured to the passage. “Shall we?”

“Mmpgh ough, yeah…” Chloe swallowed. “These’ll be perfect with those frozen margaritas.” And she wobbled out into the passage, separating the watching crowd before her like a school of fish before a hungry shark.

Winter's Warmth P.1

The Masque of Winter is the premier fashion show on the Eastern coast.

Black-iron lamps are set into mounds of powder throughout the massive hall, each spreading an arctic light from bare bulbs, almost like looking at the sun through a layer of ice. The tables are small, circular high-tops with silver-white sheets, and their seats are customized to look as if hewn straight from ice.

Ribbons hang from the second-floor banister, a massive structure which has been specially assembled for the extravagant hall. The upper deck flanks and crosses just past the tip of the runway, where an immense evergreen is decorated with beautiful ornaments and gift after absurdly large gift.

But, as ornate as the hall is, it cannot compare to the wealth of its guests.

A small number wear the standard, lavish dresses and darkened tuxedos, but more play into the theme. Glimmers from gemstones, the sparkling laughter of a finger tickling a low-hanging neckpiece, the bareness of skin covered in soft silver dust. Young women dress like elves, or angels, or some other such creature, wearing holly in their hair or golden flecks on their wings. Young men dress in kind, bare chests and strong middles, with crimson arrangements coloring them as high-born devils.

To enter the hall is to step into another world, as if you’ve crossed the threshold into the world of Faerie and are to admire the court of the Queen of Winter. From New York to Cincinnati to Miami Beach, everyone who is anyone is attending the party...

And almost everyone there is wearing some sort of mask.

Not physically, mind. Some are; those of such stature that they care not for the camera might wear some such arrangement while milling about in the corded off sections, but too many in the hall crave the burning spotlight, and their masks are the most hideous.

Sammy was not wearing a mask.

Sammy was wearing a gray dress that she got for $5 at Walmart, a pair of furry gray ears that she’d gotten for $1.50, and her chubby cheeks were decorated with three lines of makeup on either side that her friend, Nat, had done for free. She was by far the most underdressed person in the hall, and because of this, she shined like a chubby white star.

“And not a creature was stirring… save one… hungry mouse…”

The dessert-stuffed blonde allowed herself to exhale a low, long breath, aware that her belly was stretched to capacity and not giving the slightest of a care in the world. She wanted to grin, to wink knowingly at the sea of disapproving jewels, but she was afraid that she’d laugh. Laughing was problematic right now.

Laughing might make her burst.

So she ate instead.

Sammy was not thin. She used to be, but now she was a fat girl in a fatter body. A tubby blonde whose life of sloth and unfulfilled desires had spoiled her to softness, always impressed how easy it was to keep taking ‘Just one last bite.’

Her first ‘last bite’ had been two plates ago, her belly so full that it pressed up to the table. But it was as if their glares were what carried the next fudge brownie, as big as her palm and nearly as chubby, up to her plump lips. Their sneers would then push it through, forcing her chubby cheeks to chew and to swallow and sigh and glow.

Her belly whined, not in hunger or want but in pain and pressure, the warm and wet noise of a stomach stuffed pink. Their disgust tasted almost as sweet to the blonde as their puddings and ice cream and their delectable chocolates.

A dribble of sweat flecked from her temple. She could feel the exertion in her arms, the strain of thighs smothered by her belly. But more than that, the bitter chill of her internal laughter and hatred for this bougie palace made Sammy feel as if she were light enough to sit atop of a cloud.

A cloud of cotton candy which she could chew and laugh and throw at the sneering false-angels that surrounded her.

“A-another… Just one more…” she wheezed to herself, her chest billowing between strangled breaths. This next ‘last bite’ was another chocolate confection, one decorated lavishly with frozen peppermint ice cream which had begun to melt.

She lifted it to her mouth, watched the steam from her gasps encase the confection and heat it quicker. Cream wet her thumb and forefinger, and though the dessert was just big enough to necessitate two bites, she’d no choice but to toss it in all at once, lest her heat cause the treat to dribble down on her middle.

“Ommmggghhh,” she groaned, feeling herself go cross-eyed as the deliciousness impacted her tongue, and the regret screamed up from her belly. It was as if another fat girl were sitting on her waist, squeezing Sammy’s diaphragm between thick thunder thighs!

Yet there was something in that mental image, the warmth that the pain caused her to feel. Feeling how the fabric of her dress tickled her breasts, how her pantyhose pinched at her hips... She swallowed, and her stomach was forced to make space, pressing up against the table and pushing her sideways.

Unthinkingly, her glazed eyes pulled up another ‘last bite,’ then another. She was still processing the slop of the ice cream when she tasted the cherry tart and the chocolate-covered strawberry, already tumbling down to the muffling pile and eliciting cries of anguish from her skin.

She’d gone too far. Too many sensations overloaded the fat girl’s brain, too much gluttony and this wrathful pride. On autopilot, her fingers searched her plate for another last morsel… and came up empty.

Only when she felt the ribbon on the giftbox in front of her did Sammy blink and return to herself. She saw her fingers pinching the wrapping, the gift tag that read in Nat’s cheery print, ‘Open in case of chocolate emergency!’

Sammy was not having a chocolate emergency. She was enduring a sugary slaughter, a calorie catastrophe… but she’d the sneaking suspicion that the gift given to her was not meant for her.

Then, with sight restored, she once more heard the whispers.

‘Christ. Look at her…’

‘What a pig.’

‘I think that’s a mouse.’

‘Not the costume you idiot!’

‘Oh.’

It made her mad. It made her shiver. It made her hungry.

Sammy knew why she was here. She’d known from the moment she’d seen the name on her invite. Printed in immaculate cursive, on a twenty-dollar card strapped to a two-hundred dollar ‘gift,’ was a five-letter name that made Sammy cuss a five-letter word.

Auvie <3

If the card had set off warning bells, the red-and-white dress and the invitation contained released the howls of tornado sirens, and those sirens became screams when Sammy had tried the dress on.

Muffled screams. Into her pillow.

Because the damned thing fit, and it was cute too.

It was designer, of course. Auvie was the type who didn’t know the meaning of ‘resale outlet.’ Gorgeous velvet hugged Sammy’s sides, enunciated her curves, and it even came with a white belt of silk to be worn on the waist, matching the fur trim. It didn’t make her belly too big, didn’t make her thighs too fat. It did make her breasts and hips look pretty well stacked, but it was more of a pleasant plus-size rather than her usual serving of hopeless obesity.

For Christmas, Sammy’s closest friend, Halie, had baked her a whole tray of double-fudge brownies. She’d been intent on making it last, planning to have only one square each Friday as a little treat for making it through the week. But that night, Sammy ate the whole tray, still wearing the dress, and washed it all down with Mr. Pibb soda to ensure she was too busy hiccupping to swear anymore.

Once she woke from her cocoa-coma, the blonde shoved the designer dress to the back of her closet and waddled out of her apartment to begin putting together something insultingly cheap. She knew from the card that she couldn’t turn down the invite, but she wouldn’t be a mouse dancing to some bitch’s tune.

Auvie was not Sammy’s friend.

The invite, the cheerful greetings, the dress, it was all a façade. She wasn’t invited here as a guest.

She was here as an oddity. An extreme, something to give the diamond necklaces and golden wings something to look at and gasp, ‘Gracious me!’ Hence the fancy invite, hence the fancy clothes. But here, at her table, glutted on plate after plate of these rich people foods, Sammy was the one who set the music.

The dress would have made her a sideshow, but dressing down had, insultingly, made her their peer.

“I think… I’ll have… another,” she huffed, her breath so warm that it came as puffs of steam. She said it just loudly enough that those who were watching could also hear, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the golden halo of an angel twinkle with rage. It was thrilling, so much more than Sammy could have ever expected, even if it made her stomach quaver with fear.

Trying her best to hide her smile and to look without looking, Sammy watched towards the angel as she pushed back from the table and made to stand.

She was stopped as her eyes flashed white with sudden pain, a hideous blossom like her stuffed-solid stomach had just compressed her own lungs. She twitched, one hand coming to her gut, the other trying to grip the lip of the chair. It could not find it beneath the fat of her rear.

Sammy hissed, and her gut answered with a low and painful rumbling *Ouuugggghhh* of melting sugars and fatty creams. “Haa, haa,” she breathed, the ache in her belly like a sprained ankle, pressing through the gaps of her compressing fingers.

“Are you well, Yong Miss?” someone asked.

The woman groaned, turning to see a man wearing an open vest that showed a strong center and bronzed skin out of one squinted eye. “I’m… f-fine,” she said, waving off the server.

The man lifted an eyebrow, and a smirk along with it when her belly loosed another pleading groan of sweet pain. “You do not sound… fine,” he said, his speech flowing with a rich accent.

A deeper groan came, as if her stomach were trying to answer for her, and Sammy lifted her hand in a fist to cover her mouth. Her next pant was warmer, and she could almost feel the bubbles of digestion bursting inside of her. “W-water,” she breathed. “Just need some… more water.”

“Aha. Right away, Madame.”

She didn’t think. Her hand moved on its own, slow but unmistakable, a finger touching the man’s wrist as he turned to leave. Ahead of her, aside of her, Sammy saw the colorful jewels and their dark whispers.

“Is there something more?” the man asked.

The blonde swallowed the heat. It bubbled inside of her, but she forced her words to be strong and steady and as spiteful as she felt for this gaudy place. “Get me a Frappuccino,” she said tersely. “Double chocolate.”

She didn’t look at him. She was too busy trying to spread her glare to everyone else. But she felt more than heard the low noise of his amused hum come before the man bowed and said, “As you wish, Señora.”

Then he was gone, and Sammy sank back in her seat, all alone… save for every pair of eyes that glared at the girl and her fatty grin.

She did not try to stand, again. She could scarcely breathe. However, the attention she had made her feel drunk, and she came so close to finally laughing, until her eyes glazed over at the thought of the drink…

A Frappuccino was heavy, made with whipped cream and chocolate syrup. But it could give the girl a strong injection of her beloved caffeine… Mhmmm, and it was delicious too… She could almost feel herself getting lost in the imagined flavor, a bovine grin spreading across her soft face.

An energy kick was just what she needed. With that, she’d manage the strength to get up, stretch… and then she’d waddle her way back to the stairs, which would creak and cry beneath her thunderous thighs before plodding along to the desserts table.

Surely, she could manage just one last bite~

Sammy let her head lean back, and at the angle she sat, her belly was able to swell and to stretch. She faced outward, her elbow resting on her crumb covered table, the absent grin filling her face. If only just for a moment, for the first time in a long time, Sammy felt as if she’d regained some small amount of control.

She began to drift back to sightlessness, her devastated senses trying to figure out if her body was enamored or filled with pure hatred, when there was suddenly a hand on her soft shoulder and the hot breath of an angry whisper in her ear.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!?”

Dinner and a Show: Elevated levels of Stress

There's no better place to have yourself wedged~

Another lovely Ramen piece, this time paired with Dinner and a Show 2 and featuring Nat, Halie, and a little bit of Sammy!

Make sure to check out more from Ramen by following their links!

https://www.patreon.com/RamenWarwok

https://twitter.com/Lewdwok

More Saltyverse Stories!

Fucking bnuuys

I couldn’t come up with an actual title and this one was suggested by the Discord lol.

Happy Year of the Bunny!! This pic is of Lilly and Chai done for the holiday and Blasty’s birthday, and was done by Rtil!!

Follow Rtil’s post for more wonderful cuties! He’s been doing animations for Patreon lately, and they’re very lovely!!

https://www.patreon.com/rtil

https://twitter.com/rtil?s=21&t=W9PC3VJJZRjKoQNDatNjxA

Filling Out the Frontline Operator Sheet: Ithaca M37

I heard you liked heavy heavyweights!

Ithaca is the first of our former Combat Leads to show off her sheet, having acquired plenty of experience on her travels from Spain and in 512 Bravo!! She is a natural at combat, and her aptitude only increased via Griffin's Combat Mods, but Isabelly is a big softie at heart. She has a love for the finer things in life ("Víveres, Vino, and Mujeres~"), and while current position amongst the conspiracy has given her plenty of the first two... it's only made her hunger for the third~

Breaking free from The Suppression has a way of making a girl quite body conscious. Not everyone is as comfy in their skin as Mosin, after all! However, through her CL enhancements, Ithaca is almost always aware of her growing immensity... and whole most girls struggle, Ithaca huffs and puffs and lusts after every new pound! 

***************************************************************

As mentioned, these Op Sheets will be listed as XX as I assemble the rest of the booklet, but once everything is set then I'll be inserting the page number in its proper placement!

The Present Artwork is done by frequent collaborator, Better-With-Salt! There is a standard and a transparent version available as well!!

https://www.patreon.com/bws/posts

https://www.deviantart.com/better-with-salt

A direct opposite to Welrod, Ithaca's Spanish pride would claim she has nothing to hide!!... Even as she scribbles out some of the 'innecesario' details... 

OC Arts: A Devilish Delight, Dessert!!

Well, well, well, have a look at this doe~

A bratty rich girl with a body of dough!

Oh, I wouldn't struggle, dear. There's nowhere to go!

You've volunteered to become the star of my show~

****************************************************************

MeatPedal made one of the nicest gifts I have ever received, a lovely rendition of my OC, Dessert! I absolutely adore that look of smugness she has, you can almost picture yourself in Lizzie's shoes!

This is a direct depiction of the scene featured in Dessert's first showcase, which you can read here! https://www.deviantart.com/undertaker33/art/All-the-world-is-a-stage-All-the-players-clowns-815640901 

And, of course, make sure to follow Meat over on DA for more of their spectacular artworks!!!

https://www.deviantart.com/meatpedal

New Year's Night

"Don't the fireworks sound lovely?"  

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Five years ago, BWS and I had the idea to create a slow-burn sequence that could serve as a full calendar of Lillys! January was our very first, and Salty's remaster of it seemed like a perfect way to kick off the new year! You can really see how much their style has improved, from the lovely expression to the way her tummy and thighs look in her gorgeous dress!

As always, please make sure to check out Salty's links!

https://www.patreon.com/bws/posts

https://www.deviantart.com/better-with-salt

Chocolate Factory: Snuggling Up To a Warm Tummy of Tea

Lilly: "E-Emi, please! I'm... oooh, my. I've got to- to keep... my heart rate..."

Emi: "Mmmhhh... shuush. Waaarm... You're so noisy~"

Lilly: "E-E-Emiii, w-watch your... Oh my, oh my... You're d-doing this on purpose!"

Emi: "Duuuh. But I didn't expect you to feel so lovely. And that smell... Mhhmmm, blueberry~"

******************************************

Ultraguest did a lovely piece of holiday fanart featuring our wayward Chocolate Mines gals getting the most out of a holiday celebration!

It  would seem Emi intends to make sure she's the only one capable of  waddling out afterwards. A few dozen more gallons, a few hundred more  pounds, all she has to do is play with with that fatty heartbeat!

Make sure to follow Ultraguest over on DA and Twitter!

https://www.deviantart.com/ultraguest

https://twitter.com/theultraguest

Chocolate Mines: Literature and Artwork Gallery

Five Buns Full: Day 217 Story Artwork

JUST IN TIME for the chilly winter season!! This artwork features a winter dressed Itsuki and Nino out Christmas shopping during a cold winter storm!

Nino's very, very, very far along by this point, and is wearing a dress because the snow is practically steaming when it hits her soft curves.

Itsuki... Itsuki just doesn't have any clothes that fit for more than three weeks...

This art was done by Arnne, and is the first art that she's done for us! Look forward to some more, coming soon, and go and follow her on her pages! She does absolutely spectacular sculptures and tons of NSFW arts!

https://www.patreon.com/arnne/posts

https://www.deviantart.com/arnne

Fluffy Holiday Lilly sketches

A trio of sketches done by RemRamWaluigi for the winter holiday season! From comfy sweater weather to a Christmas tree and an EXTREMELY JUICY cup of blueberry tea! 

Wouldn't you like to cuddle up for the winter with the fluffy blind lady?~

This astounding artwork was done by RemRamWaluigi! Follow them by using their Links!!

https://www.deviantart.com/remramwaluigi

https://twitter.com/RemRamWaluigi

CF: What do you get when you guzzle down teas?

An extra large gut and some wobbly knees!

Now are blue and growing terribly fat!

What do you think shall come of that?

I hope you like the look of it~

This one is another fanart for my Chocolate Factory story, drawn by HadesElysiun!! They’ve done some sketches in the past but is the first art for me that they’ve actually colored, and it looks wonderful!! Be sure to follow their DA over at https://www.deviantart.com/hadeselysiun 💙

[$5+] December Patrons’ Prompt Poll: Story Artwork

The poll for December's Patreon Story Artwork!  These suggestions are made by the folks in the $15 Content Creator tier. Thanks again for your prompts!

Cast your votes and comments down below!

References are included for each option! I've not commissioned anything with Weiss or Yang yet, so I had to source the show itself for theirs, but all other references use either prior series artworks! 

Options 6 and 7 are of the same character in the same series, but in different positions / different outfits! Be sure to read the prompts when casting your votes!!

We Wish You A Chubby Christmas

Baking is a lot of fun.

Some people think it’s the final result, but that’s not quite correct. Most assuredly, the treasure at the end is a cheerful delight, but it’s the moment-to-moment that a girl loves most.

Lilly loved every breath of baking. Her kitchen was the center of the universe, her plush and chubby body serving as a black hole for sweetness. The warmth of the oven, the feeling of her belly pressing against her fat thighs when she worked on confections pressed up to her island. She’d take a few spoonfuls of sugar, a couple handfuls of chocolates, and if she’d filled herself up before her desserts were done baking, well… she’d popped a few buttons on her outfits before~

It was all such a wonderful position, but this time… This time was different.

Lilly wasn’t baking. She wasn’t even in her own kitchen. She was in someone else’s, listening and sitting on a small slab of something that was, thankfully, sturdy enough to hold her gracious figure, trying to be patient while her noisy stomach betrayed her piggy desires.

*Rooouuugghhh…* she growled with such want and such hunger that she could feel her the fluff of her holiday onesie vibrate against her.

The noise and severity had surprised even her! After all, she’d could still feel the weight of the large Christmas feast settling inside her, yet her nose has been twittering and her tongue had been salivating… the scent of baked goods had never played fair…

She couldn’t be sure, but she was almost positive that she’d heard a small break in the process. It made her blush and she put a hand to her cheek.

“Oh, my…” her sigh lifted into a smile. “Apologies. Please, take no note of me. I’ve become a bit… spoiled, when it comes to desserts.”

“No no!” came the stammered reply. “I-I’m sorry. I… if I’d baked cookies earlier, like I said I was gonna…”

Lilly’s grin lifted wider, a smile as plump as it was matronly. “Oh, don’t fuss over me, Chai,” she said, her hand falling to cup the fat of her belly. “It’s hardly the first time you’ve heard me so noisy. And if dessert is half as good as dinner, I doubt it will be the last!”

She jiggled herself lightly, appreciating the small squeak that came from the other girl, and that made her giggle. Then, another devious **Roouugghh** brought a brighter pink blush, and her companion breathed a soft laugh of her own.

“I guess that’s right…” Chai replied after, her bright voice just a bit timid and sheepish. “Umm, it shouldn’t be too much longer. Would you like another kiss?”

Lilly lifted her hand back to her cheek. “How scandalous,” she said. “Don’t you think Emmett will be jealous?”

“You need to come up with a new joke!” Chai shouted. Then, something that shocked Lilly out of her wits as a scream of purest horror came out of her small friend.

She wondered what had happened. A moment later, something tiny but firm struck her directly on the tip of her nose, tumbled down to her belly, and bounced down to the floor.

Silence came to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I-I-I forgot that you can’t-”

Her apology was flattened beneath the weight of a very fat steamroller as Lilly’s chubby laughter thrummed through the kitchen, her Christmas clad belly jiggling like a bowl full of jelly.

A moment later, she heard footsteps, then the door, but she couldn’t stop laughing.

“Is everything okay?”

“I-I-I-“ Chai began, but she couldn’t finish. She sounded horrified, as if she wanted to bolt from the room, but Lilly lifted herself up from her seat and, still tittering, cautiously crossed to where she remembered the island of the kitchen was, and where she imagined Chai stood

“Just a private joke between girls,” Lilly beamed to her husband. “We’re fine.”

A moment passed before she heard her Hisao sigh. “You threw that chocolate to her, didn’t you?”

“I forgot she was blind I’m sorry-!” Chai burst, as if she’d been holding her breath.

Hisao’s chuckle made her smile sparkle. “Everyone does. You really should have your cane with you.”

The portly blonde brushed a long lock of her hair behind her ear, trying to bring attention to the garland in her hair while her other hand dipped to her let her hands fall to her waist. “I don’t have one that matches my outfit,” she pouted, lightly shaking her fatty hips. “Santa should bring me a big candy cane.”

“You’d just eat it,” he replied flatly. “What about your sunglasses?”

Her pout deepened. “You don’t like looking at my eyes?” she blinked.

He snorted, and then another idea impacted the woman.

“What do you think?” she asked, turning to Chai’s. “I was always told I have big, beautiful eyes.”

She let her long lashes flutter in a movement she’d read should be enticing… and which she hoped did not make her look cross-eyed. It was always so hard to tell with such a lack of sensation, but the rapid stammer seemed to prove it successfully.

What she hadn’t planned for was how close Chai had come.

“I-I-I…” The girl’s stutter could be felt on her skin, less than a foot between them… and Chai only came up to her chest.

The smaller woman must have crossed closer while Lilly had addressed her husband in much the same way as how she’d hide behind Lilly when they went out to lunch. Chai hadn’t the stomach nor spine for conflict, and she’d once admitted that ‘Nobody looks at me weird for ordering so much when I have you around…’

Lilly closed her eyes and lifted her hand, slowly moving it to gently touch Chai’s waist. It made the girl’s breath catch in her chest, but she didn’t pull away, so Lilly let her hand feel.

Chai had gained weight. Within the last hour probably, by the feel of her tightly packed tummy. The buttons on her dress shirt were puckered nearest her naval, though Lilly doubted that Chai could even see the swollen curve past how stuffed she felt.

When her hand lifted higher, she felt the softness. The crest of her belly became the fitting fabric near her chest, became her open top button and her short, chubby neck. Lilly let her fingers stretch out, holding her friend near the cheek, and grinned down into Chai.

She stepped closer and their tummies touched, chubby and plump and tenderly fat. Touch creating the perfect depiction, she whispered, “It’s okay. I forget sometimes too.”

And then she leaned forward and gently kissed Chai near the top of her forehead.

When she pulled back, she stroked Chai’s cheek twice with her thumb, just enough to feel that the soft girl was smiling. Then she turned, slowly letting her hand guide her around the island as she hummed cheerfully into the comfortable air, aware both of the others were likely exchanging looks or watching her walk, and feeling all the more cheerful for it as she found her seat, turned around, and sat.

“Hey,” came a new voice. Chai’s boyfriend, Emmett. “Everything okay? Her Dad’s driving me wild. Asked me if I was always giving her food off my plate.”

“We’re fine!” Chai called. “The cookies will be done soon!!”

“Oh! Cool. I can’t wait to try ‘em. I got a little bummed when you said you ate the first batch.”

Lilly’s humming stopped. Slowly, she turned towards where Chai was, the feeling of her bloated tummy still fresh in her mind.

Into the silence she asked, “'First' batch?”

************************************

“You’re so mean.”

Lilly began to reply, but her mouth was full of cookie. She waited, swallowed, and let a finger guide the large bulge in her throat to the pile of sweets which now bloated her belly. “Am I?” she asked.

“Yes,” her husband answered. “You didn’t have to take all her cookies.”

“She insisted!” Lilly complained, but she couldn’t hold it for long. Instead she shook the tin, letting the now-hardened freshness clatter loudly about. “It’s like she said. I’ve to leave a nice and special surprise for Santatonight…”

“Oh yeah?”

The front door to their house clicked open. Arm-in-arm, they entered into the house (sideways, as a rather titillating experience last month had resulted in a temporary wedge and a long night of laughter and love making). Once they were inside, Lilly released his arm and offered her back, allowing her husband to undo the festive cloak that served as her jacket.

“Of course,” she continued. “Santa has been…” she waited until she heard him placing their garments on the coat rack before reaching out for his back.

Hisao froze at her touch, but his body was warm. His chest had grown broad, his shoulders strong. The workouts had done wonders, and their workouts had surely helped. Together, he had grown as strong as she had grown fat, and Lilly had grown very, pleasantly, fat.

“… exceptional, to me, this year…” she breathed, her teeth biting on her lower lip.

He turned and she pressed herself to him. Her belly was wide, his muscles were tough, and she nearly dropped the tin as he pushed her back and up against their home’s wall.

“Ahhh,” she sighed. “C-cold. The wall’s cold…”

“Let’s put you somewhere warmer.”

Lilly yelped, and it turned into a gasping giggle as his hands clamped on her hips and he lifted her up, using the wall. She tucked her arms around his neck, her knees to his waist, and could feel the long locks of her golden hair brushing her cankles as she giggled and wiggled and jiggled against him while he carried her fat ass away from the door.

She’d thought he’d take her up to their bed, but was surprised to feel herself being lowered down to the bricks outcrop of their chimney.

“The chimney?” she asked.

“I’ve still got to finish unpacking your presents,” he said. “I can’t believe she made you an outfit.”

“She asked me to come to a convention with her,” Lilly grinned. “I’m sure it’ll be lovely.”

“No, I know that,” Hisao replied. “I’m just shocked she had enough fabric.”

Lilly’s bright laughter filled the house with great warmth, amused and pleased and so deeply in love. For a moment, she thought that it might have created a spark in their fireplace, but she realized how silly that’d be and that her husband must have switched it on.

“Go on,” he said. “Make the cookies ready for Santa. I’ll start bringing down gifts.”

“Would you like to do one each tonight?” she asked.

“Nah. I know that look. The sooner we get to bed, the better.”

Lilly’s blush brightened, but she let it glow on her cheeks. As he began to leave the room she called, “Oh! Hisao!! Would you get me a glass of milk?”

“Sure thing!”

Then, he was gone, and Lilly was trying not to think too hard about how hungry she was nor how sweaty her thighs were beginning to feel.

When Hisao returned, she reveled in the noise of his gentle power. His feet were solid, his breathing was easy, and his heartbeat, she knew, was steady and strong.

She hoped that she was returning the favor.

Lilly sat with her legs spread wide, her belly smothering her pillow-soft thighs. She’d plucked several tears into her tight fishnet stockings, hopefully making a show of her fat Christmas hams. She sat in a way that showed her splendid round chin and her shapely fat breasts, a cookie filling one hand and her other fingering her deep fatty navel.

“Do you have my milk?” she asked.

She relished in the moment it took him to answer, extending her hand to open air. He placed down the boxes before taking her by the wrist, depositing the cold glass into her grip.

“Thank you,” she grinned, and then bit into the cookie.

It was one of the sugar cookies, decorated with sprinkles in the shape of a flower. She hoped it might be mistletoe, but one flower-shaped cookie was as good as the next, though if she remembered right the combinations had been green-red for holly, green-white for mistletoe, and blue-red for… another flower, surely, just as fattening and tasty.

She chewed the soft dough, letting her chest and her belly swell with a delicious “Mmmmfffhhh…” as several other, purposefully weakened, threads began to snap apart. “Sho good…”

Lilly lowered the milk to her side, then used her freed hand to pluck at where the onesie covered her gut.

She swallowed before saying, “I could just eat… and eat…… until…”

Her hand plucked at where her thighs met with her gut, snapping the outfit against herself and sent a ripple of fat jiggling across her buttery body.

“You’ll rip your outfit.”

“I’m sure that I will~” she replied naughtily. Then she took another bite, this one as big as she could manage, and found the glass of milk.

“I’ve got to test these…” she replied, her voice deepened by obesity into a husky breath. “Make sure the cookies are… good~”

She began to feel out of breath, and suddenly she realized just how full she felt. The next mouthful was harder to chew, heavier to swallow. How much had she eaten? Ham, chicken, stuffing, potatoes, three slices of cheesecake covered with a lovely tart sauté of blueberry filling. Emmett and Chai had made so much food, and Lilly had had a bite of everything, and then a full second plate.

It dawned on her then that her act wasn’t that much of an act. She was heavy, and tired, and horny, and fat. She was equal parts sloth and gluttony and lust, and as she swallowed the next bite, felt the swell of her belly give the lightest pang of pain, she felt as if her blue eyes had become juicy hearts.

“It wouldn’t do… to give Santa… low quality… cookies.”

She could barely breathe. The air was stuck in her chest, the sugar seemed caught in her throat. She felt huge, a luscious dessert given life and desire… and she could feel that same want, that external hunger as her husband asked “Okay… and the milk is for…?”

Lilly grinned, a thick double-chinned grin. “To wash down the cookies, obviously.”

Dec 2022 Newsletter Update! Upcoming changes, personal news, and motivations!

Good evening, all! I hope you're having a merry Winter season!

It's been a while since I've done a newsletter, and we've had some major developments lately that I wanted to notify folks of as we enter the Christmas holiday!

Right off the bat, I'd like for this update to sound honest and open. I don't want to feel like I'm putting on airs or trying to fake anyone out, cause 2022 has been... rough. I don't really have a TL;DR... so strap in, cause it's gonna be a long talk.

While I'm exceptionally pleased with the work done this year, specifically with the Reader's Guide to FOTF and the Trouble in the Inven-tea-ing Room comic, other series haven't gotten nearly enough attention from me this year. Growing Soft and Our Reality really weigh on my head, as does The Blue Beauty of AVALANCHE and of course my Collab with BWS for The Reflection Behind the Door. 

Looking at my timeline, it's extremely evident how some of my own favorite stories are sorely missed. There's been artwork, sure, but literature... it has suffered this year. And I really hate that. 

I love writing. I love portraying Miia being a giddy newlywed who has become taken with her own chubbiness, or how Monika can be both very sultry but also flustered and embarrassed about her size and inexperience. I love writing a beefy brawler turned helpless blueberry, and I love the mystery of Zelda's curse and her fattening appetite. When folks ask after these stories, I always want to say that they'll be coming soon, but... well, they haven't been. And what really beats me up about that is how hard I've been trying.

This year hasn't been nice. I've been sick since November... last November. When investigating an onset case of my chronic bronchitis, my doctor discovered I had an elevated red blood cell count (Polycythemia) and that I Gallstones, which required a major surgery where I had my gall bladder removed after some substantial attacks. That was one problem down, but the other two were endless anxiety filled with test after test. We tested for sleep apnea, negative. Then we did genetic testing for Polycythemia Vera (blood cancer), which after nearly a sleepless month was again found negative. Then, even more worryingly, I was given an MRI to find if I had any hidden tumors which were triggering the elevated rbc count. Nothing, each time. The final straw came when, despite being prescribed two different inhalers and doing several respiratory tests involving blood oxygen levels and lung capacity that I'd just passed, my pulmonologist said, 'Maybe you have Asthma?' and recommended me for another $800 test that would just continue to tell me what I don't have.

The cancer scare caused a lot of stress, but with each test I was becoming more and more bitter and that was much worse for my health. After pinching a nerve in my neck, seemingly from stress alone, I decided that the inhalers put me into a position where I'm 'good enough,' because I don't have the ability to pay endlessly into the healthcare system.

Throughout all of that, I'd been trying to write. And it just... sucked. In general, when I'm struggling to write on my laptop I'll use my phone and write on the Werdsmith app to get something going. But it was like everything I wrote was infected by those crappy moods. There'd be stories meant to be fun or funny reading as if they were dour or worse, flat, and almost everything meant to read as enticing or amours was just... not. I couldn't hit my quality control, and the fact that I couldn't write these characters I love only made me feel worse.

With the bills came medical debt, and through my souring spirits I decided to pick up a second job where I could work without needing to rely so heavily on my own dictation or frozen trains of thought and the lack of a workspace I could call my own. A lot of this year's submission have actually started out as projects done on my phone, utilizing an app called Werdsmith, since our current spot has nowhere I can just sit and use my laptop without interruption. I'd have spurts of inspiration, writing more for Chocolate Mines, Struggling Diet Warriors, Dessert Warfare, Bounty's Labor, and several one-shots, but some of the series just completely eluded me. Chapter 6 of Reflection was finished twice, both with wildly different takes on the chapter and just completely suffering as I could not find Zelda's voice. Chapter 9 of Five Buns Full, I've struggled so much with Nino's father that I ended up taking on Itsuki's Substitution just to enjoy some super-sized fun rather than navigating discussion in an interesting way. Even Growing Soft, staring two characters I know and love so much that I could recognize them in any sort of style, I've been trying to write the latest chapter since August, and I just... couldn't. I struggled so much because I couldn't get the young lovers to ever sound like they do. I couldn't write the intimacy or attraction right, and it felt almost like I was a performer whose plates had all been spinning on poles that had begun to crack.

Until very recently...

Maybe it's the longer nights or the chilly season, but things have absolutely begun looking up as we reach towards the end of the year. 

Once we were able to settle our debts, my wife and I decided to take on more lol. With the idea that finding a better place for ourselves, one that isn't so damn expensive for next to no benefit, we'd decided to move out from Illinois and have been in the process of purchasing property down in Tennessee. We closed on the house last week and, while it's a fixer, we got an astoundingly good price and are more than capable of giving it the love and care that it needs. We'll be able to move in once some repairs are complete, but now we own a full acre of land to carve out as our own little slice.

I can't tell you how good it has felt to have all of that covered. There's still some level of stress, naturally, but to actually be able to do something and to work rather than feeling... impotent, it has completely revitalized my writing and characters are actually feeling right and good to me once more.

I'm not trying to excuse the slow pace of stories this year, moreso trying to explain how being in such a bad place for so long had been dragging me down, and why I'm so excited with how things are looking up. I've not had my own workspace since... well, before Coronavirus forced a move that was supposed to be only 'an uncomfortable two weeks' into nearly three years. It'll be wonderful just to be able to sit at a desk with my laptop again.

However, talk is cheap and I've talked quite a lot here! To prove my intentions, I've drawn up a special work-plan that should help tackle production and ensure a restart to the Patrons' Prompt Polls, starting with a Story Artwork one that will close out this month!!

My goal is to submit three stories each month. The first story will be from my Commissions List, the second will be a personal series or a former Patrons' Prompt that was voted for by folks here, and the third will be dedicated specifically to finishing The Reflection Behind the Door. The extra week will be used in contacting artists, drawing up the detailed prompts, plotting more for the Trouble in the Inven-tea-ing Room comic collab, and if time allows, revisiting some of my older works for Revamps or Updates.

On the Fifteenth of each month, the Patrons' Prompt suggestions will go up, and the Poll will follow on the Twentieth. The poll itself will also last five days, closing before the month ends so that I can use that first week to draw up whatever detailed prompt might be needed.

I will also be removing the Winery Tier from our current listing. Reviews have been exceptionally hard for me to provide in anything resembling a timely fashion this year, due in-part to their thoroughness and the time requirement combating against the constantly tired mindset I'd possessed. I am extremely thankful to those who were in the tier ***and will still provide reviews for those who donated***, but the tier itself will no longer be listed and no more backers will be accepted onto it. 

In it's place, I'll be expanding the benefits to a few roles, mostly in regards to Discord. All Patreon members will gain access to public lessons that will be posted in the #backrooms channel, in which users can interact, ask questions, or be given specific direction in developing their own styles of writing. Users in the $15+ tiers will be given access to a specific channel that will allow for sticker or emote suggestions. We've got a ton of really great ones already, but I'll always be happy to take on fresh ideas for folks and their favorite stories.

My intent is to make Literature on here more consistent, which will also allow folks in the Beta Reader Tier to see and involve themselves in more of the process. Once I wrap up other Patrons' Prompt series, such as Dessert Warfare and Blue Beauty, I'll also reopen the Prompt Suggestions for Literature. I'd very much like to have these series completed before allowing folks to cast votes on new ones.

I think that might be it... at least, for now. I've been typing at this for a few hours, but I'll be sure to make a public update if I've missed anything or anybody. I very much appreciate you folks supporting and reading stuff each time, and I can't say how much it means to me to take part in such a fun community of fans and friends. 

If you have any questions, send me a message on here or over Discord, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

As always, thanks for reading, and Merry Christmas!!!! <3

Filling Out the Frontline Operator Sheet: Spas-12

SPAS!! Champion of the chubby, defender of the hungry, feeder of... herself! Spas is our leading perspective in Filling Out the Frontline and a fan favorite character!!

Ahh, Saint Petersberg. The Venice of Russia! It was here that Spas ate her first hamburger. Her first cheeseburger!! Her first double cheeseburger, topped with bacon!!! What wonderful memories the city had blessed her with. That the memory of her first burger with bacon is also tied to her getting fired barely even registers, now. 

All she remembers is what her senses demanded. The rumbles from her tummy, the itching from her fingers. As meat and cheese and grease met her tongue, as her teeth hewn through the gourmet buns and fresh-cut veggies, Spas can only remember the purest bliss granted by her bite. 

She's all but forgotten the stunned silence on her ears, and never had even looked at the stunned expression the party official's face. She only relives the chewing, the eating and the living and the loving... and then she remembers how the owner of the restaurant tossed her out onto her plump posterior.

She's still getting used to not being the chubbiest gal in the room, but Spas is exceptionally dedicated to her sisters in 707. She knows she can be kinda maybe just a little dumb sometimes, and silly, and naive, and hungry, and thirsty, and... meandering... but as Arc 1 comes to a close, our girl feels like she's finally finding her feet!

Which is fortunate, because she's just lost sight of her toes.......

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As mentioned, these Op Sheets will be listed as XX as I assemble the rest of the booklet, but once everything is set then I'll be inserting the page number in its proper placement!

The Present Artwork is done by frequent collaborator, Better-With-Salt! There is a standard and a transparent version available as well!!

https://www.patreon.com/bws/posts

https://www.deviantart.com/better-with-salt

This sheet has some minor teases for things that haven't yet been released in the story, but had to be done as the Booklet is in canon being written between Arc 1 and Arc 2. I hope that you all look forward to what gets our gal put under house arrest, as that story shall come very soon!! :D

If You Feed A Lamia Dessert

This story was a priority commission for MeatPedal, and stars two of his monstrously lovely OCs, Idephine and Mira!! Attached are character references for either gal, and you can check out more of the lovely pair over on Meat’s DA!!

https://www.deviantart.com/meatpedal

Enjoy!

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If you give a dormouse a cookie, she’ll ask for a glass of milk.

If you feed a lamia dessert, she’ll end up breaking your bed.

When Mira had met Idephine, she’d been as thin as a… well, as a garden snake! She wasn’t exactly skinny, lamia were known to have just the right kind of softness in all the right kind of places, but her waist had been slim and her hips had been muscular. She’d had a remarkable appetite, again as most lamia do, but it took a lot of calories to move thirty feet of scaled aristocracy and Idephine used to burn through them each day!

She used to…

From the awkward spot in her broken bed, Mira blinked tiredly at her spinning ceiling fan. Its chilly wind was a lovely relief on her pale skin and exposed tummy… or rather, her exposed gut…

Exhausted as she was, the raven-haired beauty knew that the softness had taken her in a few respects. Her slim middle had turned into a pudgy paunch and the gap in her thighs had slowly been closed by her soft, fattened thighs.

Whether it had been closed temporarily, or if her thighs had shut with the same resounding *POOMF* that had broken her bed, remained to be seen. Hopefully the former.

Likely the later…

She could get a gym membership.

Why bother? You lift enough weight every time that you hug her.

She could count calories.

And then you’d notice how much you two go through each day.

Cardio, then?

That’s how you broke your damn bed.

…

My back hurts…

Mira let out a very, very, very long sigh.

From beside her, the steady stream of piggy snores fractured.

A great sensation of unseen motion came over the room. Something immense was being dragged across the layer of blankets which were spread out over the hardwood, and then something even larger slapped the ground with a solid *Thum.*

Mira waited.

The snoring did not return.

Simultaneously trying to ignore twinges of discomfort she felt from the busted springs on the small of her back, and deciding that no, having someone come out to take a look at repairs and reinforcement could not wait until after the weekend, she turned to her left.

Nearest the headboard, a pair of blankets, fuzzy red-and-black wool ones decorated with cherubic Christmas deer, ruffled slightly. Further down, a much thicker arrangement of five blankets rose up from the others, one layered over the next to create the illusion of an unbroken hill. Up, and up, and up they rose, cresting over the top… and that’s all Mira could see. She knew that they fell back down some, they had to at some point, but it was beyond her sight.

She liked the view from atop of the mountain so very much.

Mira blinked at the blankets there, watching, but they did not stir further.

Which is why she was so surprised when she looked back towards the headboard and found a hand peeking out. For a second, she held her breath, afraid she’d been loud or disturbed the hand’s owner, but no. The appendage was laid languidly backwards, over the small curve of a custom firm pillow, laying atop of a slight tussle of hair.

The hair should be pink, but the dark light of winter’s bright moon made her look lavender. But it did not smell like a flower.

She smelled like shamrocks. Like… springtime, and freshness, and morning and…

Idephine smelled like love.

It is a scent that is impossible to explain, but Mira knew it right now. She’d known it from their first kiss, their first date, the first time she’d fed Idephine dessert, and the thousandth time she’d done the same thing. It was something the lamia carried with her, much like she carried her tail, or her hair, or her…

Mira looked back down to the pile of blankets that reached high into the sky, then back to the hand.

Even her hands had grown fat.

But it wasn’t just that. They were soft hands, pale and pleasant, and you could almost tell how those round chubby sausages had been long with skinny nobility. They’d never seen labor, never felt work. They’d been washed before supper, then washed before the dessert that they had shared in bed.

Meat can be so messy when it’s cooked rare for a carnivorous appetite…

Mira blinked at the chubby fingers.

The slight discomfort in her back faded.

She watched… and she watched… and she blinked…

And the world transformed.

She watched as one of the fingers twitched on the hand. It almost seemed to beckon at her, and then she realized that something was moving on the other side of it. A flash of pink scales on either side of the finger, and then over the tip of the nail, bright pink hair and a pair of lovely bright eyes.

Idephine smiled up to Mira, and then Mira realized that it was her finger, on her hand, and the little snake’s long tail was slowly spinning round till it was tied loose round her wrist.

The girl looked down, and she was suddenly wearing her usual black top. But… no, this top was two big. It was twice her size.

So why did it feel so bloody tight?

Mira swallowed, then her hand went to her neck as she felt her black choker there, then the girl balked as she felt the flesh that pudge round either side of it. The jewelry held her like a belt round her girlfriend’s belly, but then, why was her girlfriend only as tall as her-

“No fair!” called the tiny lamia, and the immense goth felt her thickened thighs quiver and her round belly jiggle with a loud rumble. Back on her hand, Idephine, who Mira only now noticed looked barely chubby, was shouting, “You never share!”

“N-never share…?”

Mira balked, the breath catching in her throat. Was that her voice? It was so deep and… but she’d felt her choker vibrate when she talked!! She swallowed, then looked back to her hand.

“Never share wha-” the husky giantess began, but stopped to gape at the food she now held shut in her fist, with the tiny lamia still holding on near her fingers.

The meat was still attached to the bone that she held in her hand. It didn’t look like any meat that Mira’d ever cooked. It was nearly as big as her head, which made it almost a quarter the size of her vast belly. It had been cooked well, browned skin steaming with its delicious scent, and small flecks of grease dribbled down the bone to Mira’s fist, meeting the much smaller dribbles of wet drool which fell from the lips of her tiny snake.

Mira’s thinking mind was still trying to process that she could feel the flesh of her chin sunk into her neck. She could hardly breathe, and she couldn’t see the hundreds of pounds that throbbed inwards and out as her obesity puffed with every inhale and exhale.

Which allowed instinct to immediately overpower her thoughts.

“Would you like a bite?” she asked.

“M-maybe… just… one?” Idephine asked.

Mira nodded encouragingly, tilting the meat towards the little lamia. She thought she might have to further prompt the girl, but like a buzzsaw to wood, Idephine attacked.

She flicked herself forwards, tail unhitching from Mira’s wrist and coming all the way up her knuckle while the pink-haired snake sunk her fangs straight into the meat. Her claws latched on as if they too were jaws, but then they tore their chunks of meat back, even though there was no room to get them past Idephine’s packed lips!!

The hungry noodle began to fall back, and would have gone down to the ground had Mira not tilted the meat so that she lay up on top.

Her front covered in grease, her mouth packed with meat and her eyes blazing enjoyment, Idephine smiled a wonderfully fanged grin as she chomped and chewed and her tail spun all the way to circle the slab, and Mira could not help but laugh and laugh until she felt her choker crack from the force of her laughter. It burst, releasing her neck, and then the fat giantess laughed some more.

Idephine took mouthful after mouthful, eating viciously and sloppily and with such gusto and glory. Mira began to wonder how she’d clean her off this time, as she still needed to upgrade her bathroom to fit someone that was thirty feet long and over two-thousand pounds, and then she remembered her girlfriend was so tiny now.

She was maybe two feet long, and not even five pounds! Even if she seemed intent to change that throughout the course of this meal…

Mira used her other hand to stroke her favorite snake on the hair, gently prodding Idephine’s curves in bemused wonder. She felt her heartbeat quicken when the snake spun round her finger, a lovely motion that the much larger Idephine usually did around her waist, but more importantly, as her instincts always did when ensuring her darling sausage would have a full tummy, Mira felt pure delight.

In minutes, a quarter of the slab was gone, then half. Mira might have helped it along, with a bite or two for her own wanting stomach, but she wasn’t sure if Idephine even noticed, so busy was the small snake with filling her mouth and stuffing her stomach until it looked like the poor girl had swallowed a fat ostrich egg.

She couldn’t finish. By three-quarters, she was slowing down, and her stomach was big enough that she was struggling to reach past. Mira knew from experience that first would come the potbelly, then the fat hips and the fleshy buttocks. Then she’d complain about how her arms are too soft and her belly’s too wide and she’s having trouble slithering because her hips are so fat, and all of it brought such a strange feeling to the goth giantess.

As she held Idephine in her palm, her other hand playfully poking her tummy and making the glutted snake belch, she felt an immense sense of excitement.

“Are you all finished already?” she asked. “No more room, little Princess?”

“N-no.. more… *Urrrrp!*” the girl belched.

Mira giggled with sheer delight. She used her probing finger to reach beneath Idephine’s shirt, tearing the small rips her belly had forced until the lamia’s bare breasts and belly were freed.

“I’m gonna have to wash you up, okay? Such a messy girl.”

“N-not the… dish soap…” Idephine struggled.

Mira twittered, and it sounded like a fattened penguin who’d sucked in a mouthful of helium. “Of course not~” she intoned, lifting her snake up to her eyes while her other went to her own top to undo the buttons and unleash her belly. “Not when both of us need a nice long bath…”

Idephine lifted a hand to her mouth and belched into it. Her drunken, glutted groans were her only further reply.

Mira made it to her bathroom, her spectacularly fat hips shimmying out of her skirt, when she saw something that gave her pause.

An immense woman peered at her from the bathroom sink. Her black hair was lifted into a high pair of twintails, her orange eyes sparkling with some delicious motivation. It was her skin though, her glorious and wonderful and midnight pale skin, that pulled the girl’s black lipstick up into a smirk. It was almost as if she was looking at Idephine, and there was something darker there too, but still very pretty.

And it made Mira feel beautiful, before the snake on her palm belched, and her reflection broke into an immense belly laugh.

“You know,” she said down towards the little pink snake, “As much as I like you so small, I kind of prefer-”

A hand came through the mirror.

It did not come through quickly, but slow. Exceptionally, resplendently slow. It was fat, attached to a fatter wrist and a fatter forearm. And when it touched Mira, she’d the scent of shamrocks before another suddenly plunged out to grab her, and the pudgy goth was pulled through the mirror, and back onto her broken bed.

Darkness, absolute, smothering, warm darkness completely covered Mira. She heard low snuffles, the sound of movement and the thick layers of the tail which had already wrapped around her legs. It was tight, breath-stealingly tight, but she was held against a wonderfully soft and immense pink gluttony of endless wanting.

She’d just enough energy to grunt, wiggle, and she brushed the messy blankets off to the side where they fell onto the floor, and she and her girlfriend were completely revealed.

She couldn’t see Idephine’s face, but she could feel the vast jiggles that rippled across the snake’s belly of jelly. It sounded almost as heavy as it felt, buoyant wobbles cascading from where her legs fluttered against the tail and where her chin had been pinched into the snake’s fat breasts.

Somehow, Mira was able to muster enough strength into her elbows to spread the vice wide and lift her face back. Then she saw Idephine’s face… her wonderful face, and the fanged smile that was spread from ear to pink ear.

On her back, Idephine’s plushness was perfect, like a strawberry marshmallow taken fresh from the pack. The lamia’s weight spread from side to side, so wide that Mira could scarcely reach the bedsheet, and her shoulders were pinched beneath the girl’s large breasts. But it was her face, her naked delight, which caused Mira’s arms to melt back down into the fleshy hug, now turned so she could still manage some breath.

Silently, she laid there. Idephine would wake soon, shivering due to her missing blankets or realizing she’d, yet again, snatched Mira during some blissful dream. It wasn’t uncommon, and as she got bigger it actually became easier for Mira to twist just right so she could still get some air. Plus, she was tired… so very, very tired… and her girlfriend, this bed made of sugar and the plumpness of love, was a lovely spot to lay.

There were no busted springs that dug into her back.

She’d begun to drift off, fuzzy and warm, when she felt a movement. The lamia’s long tail wiggled between her knees, and a wet growl jiggled up from the pit of her belly.

Mira smiled, thinking that Idephine must be dreaming of food… and then, from above, drifted a husky whisper.

“Are you finished… already?” Idephine asked. “You could… fit… one more bite…”

A Reader's Guide to Filling Out the Frontlines, Inner Cover

A very special, very chubby page, this one had been playing around in my head and I was finally able to get some really great opening artwork! This page will be featured as the interior of the cover, which is directly before the Foreword on Page 01

I came up with the concept for this poem a long time back, and it really inspired a lot of the thought that has gone into Frontline. I was extremely delighted when I realized I could use it as an initiation page to the booklet! Thank you to the folks that helped this all come together, and a massive thank you to Ramen, who provided this opening artwork of Mosin and Winters!

https://www.patreon.com/RamenWarwok

https://twitter.com/Lewdwok

https://www.deviantart.com/ramenwarwok

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Again massive thank you to all the fans who have been super supportive for this booklet and these artworks! This has been the biggest project I've ever done, and I couldn't do it without all of your support!!

It's been such an exciting time, and I've got more to share VERY soon!

As always, thanks for reading!