James Duke
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FE Three Houses: Hefty Hutt Women (Part 2/2)
🕑 Added 2025-07-01 02:38:31 +0000 UTCPart 1: https://www.patreon.com/posts/fe-three-houses-119375745
Tags: Extreme weight gain, Hutt TF, personality change, Pregfat
Sorry for getting this out so slow. Work has been a bear this entire month, however, I'm in the final stages of it. Next month should be calmer though.
--- Escape ---
Catherine had rarely failed a defense as poorly as she had failed to keep the stairs clear. She looked up at the dimly lit stairwell, watching the last of a pair of thick tails disappear. “Lady Rheaaaa!” She called, driving a fist into the ground. Stone cracked beneath her fist and straps of armor snapped as her newfound muscle flexed. Whatever joy Catherine felt at her body’s muscular renewal was sapped by the price about to be paid for her failure. She stood, calves ripping through the leather around her thighs. “Come back!” She shouted, straining her thighs into action. Catherine had been a warrior for the church for many years, but she had never felt this invigorated physically. Beyond being younger, she was a strictly better version of herself. Bulky but sinewy muscle rippled across her body as she took the stairs two at a time. More of her uniform ripped. She would arrive at the top a nearly naked, barbarian warrior but that was hardly more surprising than what the members of the church would see that day.
“Ooooh Byleth! This is unacceptable. You were supposed to be the good one!” Catherines calls were joined by Lysithea’s petulant shouts. Twenty pounds of added muscle shredded the sleeves of her uniform but had not gone far in maturing her. She stomped her way up the stairs, rather than adopting Catherine’s panther sprint. The spell which she had cast had worked too slowly, outpaced by the slug curse at every turn. However muscled the protectors got, their loves doubled them. Lysithea and her helpers were unable to keep the slug-women from exploring whatever whims came to their minds. Unfortunately that day, their whims were bent towards escape.
Rhea oozed her way up the stairs, forcing her large body through the tiny space. A passage meant for two men standing abreast had now become as tight as an attic crawl space to the holy grub. She bent low, stooping her padded shoulders in order to not hit her head. The archbishop was 12 feet from her holy head down to where her barrel paunch met the floor and unmeasurably heavy. Thick arms pulled at the stairs. In her desperation to see her flock, Rhea would pull out all the stops. Sweat ran from her hair, which had steadily come undone from its intricate braids. “My. . .uuuggh. . .congregation. . .needs. . .me!” She grunted, feeling her hips and rotund lower half getting stuck around a particularly tight turn. The colossal slug was meant for flatland, if meant for anything at all. Moving up stairs was a laborious, slow process. Her tail thrashed behind her, slapping against the walls. She hated the feeling of her blubber being roughed up. Hers was fat that was meant to be cared for in the confines of hallowed ground. Further, it was not meant to be manhandled, though Catherine had other ideas.
“Please, my lady, be sensible!” Catherine implored as she tried to shove her way towards the fleeing holy woman. Catherine was separated from Rhea by Byleth’s tonnage. The professor fumbled her way up the spiral staircase, even more clumsy and slow than her mentor. Her bloated mass touched either wall, even going so far as to slope up towards the ceiling. She lurched and undulated like a seal on a beach, removed from any environment that could possibly allow her to move correctly. It was over this bulk that Catherine climbed. Grabbing fistfuls of flabby rolls, the older knight began to summit the 10 foot tall behemoth. Byleth slowed, moaning and dropping her head lower. The added weight made the lazy titan slow her already glacial slithering. Catherine moved all the faster, meaty biceps now showing through her ripped clothes. “Apologies, professor.” Catherine said as she rolled over a thick shoulder and stubby arm. She turned to see a tired and panting face. “Please return below and Lysithea will feed you.”
“Buut. . .haaah. . .not. . .uuuggh. . .enough!” Byleth wheezed, straining her arms to carry her forward more. Her hands slipped on the smoothed stone of the stairs, fingers no longer articulate enough for fine grappling. Byleth had a body that was meant for big, easy movements. She could hold entire meals worth of food in her arm, gobbling it down in minutes, but use of small utensils were beyond her. If invited to one of Garreg Mach’s many tea parties, she was more likely to guzzle the tea from the kettle rather than sip the cup. Another slip at the stair sent her sliding backwards. Her delicate, massive gut slammed upon the steps. The slamming of her mass knocked air from her. She wheezed and whined, clutching her light green colored breasts. “Noooo. . .hoooo. . .need. . .food.” A thick tongue flapped out of her wide face, licking the air. Though the kitchens were entire yards away, she could taste the lingering scent of food on the air. The obese slug could sense exactly where the bakers and chefs had stepped as they brought their cargo and hauled away the old dishes. She was hungry enough that she wanted to eat the phantoms of long gone meals.
It was in this pitiable state that Lysithea found her favorite professor. Byleth’s long body was strung along the stairs, her back bending upwards in increasingly weak attempts to move. Lysithea put a hand to her head, her shirt ripping across the back as her lats flexed. “Oooh, Professor, what are we going to do with you?” She shook her head and started to work her way to the front of the writhing worm-woman. Much like Catherine, Lysithea was a little depressed that all her new strength had been good for was moving around Byleth’s corpulence. She pushed into the soft, expansive rolls with the stone wall of the stair behind her. Byleth shivered and moaned, shuddering with pleasure as the strong, tiny woman massaged her vast form. Hidden away from the world under a blanket of sluggy fat, Lysithea allowed a crumpled grin across her face. It was at least nice to know the professor was enjoying her touch. The grin grew wider as her muscles easily handled the challenges of pushing Byleth’s fat. Chunky calves with overly defined softballs of fleshy iron squeezed tightly as Lysithea braced. Even her small butt had become more defined, powerful glutes replacing small dough pockets. Short as could be, Lysithea was like an armored war pony.
“I gave you so much food, Professor! Why were you running away!” Lysithea stomped her foot and stuck her balled fists behind her. Byleth looked up with a smile across her face as she saw Lysithea’s small skirt rippling across hardened thighs. She would not give up food lightly, but she would donate a watermelon for the small woman to crush. “Now Lady Rhea is going to blow our plan. . .YOUR plan!” Lysithea’s continued stomps shook Byleth’s blubber in a most pleasant manner. Jiggles and ripples played across the vast plain of her flab, reaching from thick shoulders down to her stubby tail. Byleth wriggled under the question, struggling with being caught and the delicious naughtiness of it all.
“Well. . .I just wanted to get bigger. . .” The worm-woman said, tapping her thick fingers together. “Huuurrgggh!” She heaved herself over, exposing her naked breasts and belly. Byleth patted her green stomach, which had started to turn a darker shade than the rest of her. “You like me big. . .don’t you?” She lolled her tongue out, nakedly trying to sneak a peek under Lysithea’s skirt. Her tail slammed against the walls.
Lysithea knelt down, not trying to stop Byleth’s advances. She rubbed what she could reach of Byleth’s breasts and torso blubber. “Professor. . .I would have helped you.” She sighed. It was not easy managing the growing bodies and vices of her favorite instructor. Certainly, the other women had their own struggles too. “Perhaps this was all doomed to failure anyway.” Lysithea slumped down on the steps, spreading her strong legs apart. Byleth tried to comfort her by kissing her ankles and calves. Lysithea let out a girlish giggle. “Just be ready to deal with whatever happens. Garreg Mach might be putting their newest teacher on a diet.” She stuck her tongue out, enjoying Byleth’s look of horror. The young woman then sighed and looked up at the ceiling. She wondered how things were going with Rhea, Catherine, and the flock of Sothis. Certainly, she would know soon. She was glad that only Rhea would be exposed to the abbey. Byleth was stuck on the stairs and the other two slug-women were down below. Lysithea hugged her professor, she wondered if the world above was ready for what the quartet had become.
---
Down below, in the cool and emptied darkness of the chambers, the two remaining slug women waited. Byleth and Rhea had made their slow escape, leaving Marianne and Petra behind. Marianne was secreted away in her cove, counting her treasures and whispering to Hilda. Though she tried to be secretive, the boasts of the wealth she had collected were always loud enough to be heard. Yet, Petra and Dorothea cared little. Instead, they were in the center of the room. Petra was spread about the food pile, her body worming through what had not been eaten. She stretched and rolled through the pile, hands sensually caressing her stomach. She rubbed and massaged her body, unable to stay still. With heaving, clumsy motions she rolled from her side to her back, unable to stay in one position for very long. Her braid was strung between her breasts, flitting between the goliath mammaries. Dorothea sat next to her large slug, taut and sinewy under the lamplight.
“Dorothea. . .pleaseee. . .my body is. . .aaah. . .experiencing such quakes.” Petra licked her lips. Heralding the change that was now upon her, Petra’s lips had shifted from an orange hue to purple. The color only seemed to get more vivid as she bucked and writhed. She opened her mouth, rolling towards her friend and lover. Dorothea, resting on her knees, caught what she could hold of the passionate slug. Her black uniform snapped and ripped, though any sight of her new muscles was buried by Petra’s flab. “Something is. . . approaching me. . .I am close to. . .haaah. . .” She searched for any word or phrase that could capture what she was experiencing. Petra could not find the words, instead using her body to make a request. Her fat, stubby tail encircled Dorothea. It lifted up the singer's skirt, teasing the now hard buttcheeks. Meanwhile, Petra opened her mouth. She moved first towards the pile of food, then back to Dorothea; caught in a dilemma of indulgence. Her thick, three fingered hands squeezed Dorothea's tight biceps. “I am in needing of. . .haaaah. . .loving. . .feeding. . .”
“Someone has been getting so needy!” Dorothea was ever the flirt. She rubbed her nose on Petra’s before kissing her. Petra accepted the kiss heartily. Her chest thumped and energy that she would not describe shot through her. Petra felt as though she was standing on the edge of a cliff. She knew she had to throw herself over, but did not have the strength yet. Lust, food, and body mass were the keys to that strength. Her feet, she only cursorily remembered what it was like to have two legs, were edging over the precipice. She only needed someone to push her into it. Petra licked her muscular lover’s face. Dorothea adapted quickly. She had been with many people, but none so overpowering as new-Petra. She was all hands, breasts, and tongue. There was skill, but it was blunted by raw force. Dorothea loved it. She used her muscles only so that Petra had to work harder to push her over. The slug-woman still lay on her side, her stomach rolling out onto her protector. Trapped, Dorothea had no other option but to acquiesce to the demands of her lovestruck slug.
“Feeeeeed.” Petra stopped kissing abruptly. A shiver of fate or maybe lust made her body wriggle. “I must be. . .aaaah. . .growing now.” Her eyes were dreamy and distant. “So close to. . .” The words stopped. Petra thrust her hips, mimicking a motion that Dorothea knew very, very well. Every minute that passed built the hurricane of lust within Petra. Split between carnality and gluttony, she simply wanted to be stuffed. Dorothea helped, scooping up an armload of food and letting it tumble into Petra’s mouth. Muffins and scones rained down, the greedy monster moved her mouth in an effort to gobble them all up. What did not land in her open maw was collected by fat folds. Petra chewed messily, stroking her aching stomach. The tightness grew, but it was not caused by the food. She had much, much more space within her for that. The purple haired woman mewled, reaching a hand out to stroke Dorothea’s hair. The hand traced down until it reached her mouth. Dorothea accepted the stubby finger, sucking on it as she scooped up another armload of food. Petra undulated, bucking her hips and bumping her stomach into Dorothea. Food rained down moments later, allowing her to attempt to satiate her mounting hunger.
Dorothea, depositing her most recent armful of food into the orange blob’s mouth, snuggled into the great, feasting bulk. Petra hummed and purred, her voice as erotic as her motions. Dorothea helped as she could, her hands finding the softest portions of her lover’s expansive stomach. She pinched rolls, jiggling them with her newfound strength. Dorothea had been quick to accept Lysithea’s enhancement, but she had always had her own thoughts on how to use it. Muscles flexed against the slug-woman’s pudding body. Dorothea was hard stone shaped into a curvy woman, Petra was mashed potatoes formed into a puffy snake. “What are you hiding from me, Love?” Dorothea sang, squishing further into Petra’s rolls. She kissed whatever fat her mouth could find. “What’s happening within your curves and pillows?” Dorothea slowly started to match Petra’s undulations, providing both resistance and acceptance.
“I. . .mmmghph. . .keep nothing secret. . .no blanket over. . .haaah. . .the truth.” Petra sucked food into her mouth, scooping it with a broad and thick tongue. Her body burned, heating up as Dorothea touched her. The smaller woman pushed her face between breasts that were triple the size of her head. Petra gasped, the tightness within her growing. Her tongue drifted away from the food, instead feeling its way down Petra’s open shirt. The two rolled together, switching between feeding and fondling. Petra grew ever more excited. A purple blush crept over her face and between her breasts. Finally, as her passion reached its height, she felt a tug deep in her stomach. “OH!” She gasped, hands reaching for her gut. “Love of my life. . .I believe. . .it has happened.” Petra’s eyes were wide. “I am not knowing what. . .but I am. . .feeling something.” She purred, the sensation only growing deeper. Her stomach felt full, though she could not say with what. Petra stroked Dorothea’s hair, burying her chiseled body under fat. “You will be having much to do, I feel!” Dorothea simply began to kiss again.
Off in the far alcove, Marianne and Hilda were busy. Knowing that the hideaway was soon to be vacated, they were sorting treasures. In one pile was the hoarded gold and wealth, the other was food. Marianne whimpered, knowing that some of her profits were becoming useless. “Nooo! This is awful, now they can get food from other people.” She cried, circling around the two piles, dragging her immense body along. Her blue coloring seemed even brighter in the midst of emotional distress. Marianne reached for the pile, fighting the urge to devour it all. Spending her wealth was as painful as the thought of having it taken from her. She slowed her undulations, hands resting upon a gigantic gut. She stared at the pile, eyes getting further and further sucked in to the mass of food. She would grow so much from it, literally becoming a better version of herself. Yet, that food could have been used to buy the other slug women. They would do her bidding for the chance of extra weight. She almost didn’t blink whilst staring. Only a gentle hand from Hilda caused her to break away.
“Come on!” Hilda held up a tray of sparkling gold ornaments. “Why don’t you hold these and I’ll feed you!” Her biceps danced as she tipped the tray of ancient wealth towards Marianne’s mass. Marianne came forward, oozing her bulk across the floor. Her stubby arms grasped the tray and hugged the precious metals upon it to her body. She rubbed them in all directions, making the alcove alive with the sounds to tinkling metal. Hilda smiled, watching Marianne work. “All that gold is going to rub off on you, if you keep doing that.” She leaned her tight, muscular body upon Marianne to give a quick kiss. Marianne was now at least two feet taller than Hilda, so the pink haired woman had to settle for kissing back roll rather than a cheek. The gesture was appreciated nonetheless as Marianne purred. Hilda worked on gathering food. “Not that I would mind having a gilded worm as a bestie.” She scooped a load into a basket, ready to feed it piece by piece to Marianne. “Between this and some well deserved meals, you are going to be carrying your wealth with you!”
---
“Lady Rhea!”
“My lady, what has happened to you?”
“Monster!”
Rhea swam in a sea of people, her congregation. She pushed through the abbey, her monolithic body framed by the stained glass window and altar. Her full bulk and glory was revealed to her congregation as she undulated forward. Arms filled with blubber were spread wide, the tattered remnants of her robes hanging off of them. Her gut pushed the crowd back, seeking ever to embrace them. “I am so sorry to have been away.” She spoke, looking down at the tiny souls around her. They looked up, eyes filled with shock and terror at her overflowing divinity. They were frightened, but Rhea accepted that. It was not easy to look the chosen emissary of Sothis in the face. “I return now, bearing a form that will please both Sothis. . .and you all.” Double the height of even the tallest man in the crowd, Rhea bent down to pat the head of one woman. The gigantic slug tried to bring out all of the warmth in her heart and into her voice. She wanted to cure them of their worries, assure them that she was the same she had ever been. Or, if different, that she was better now. “I and some members of the monastery have been blessed by the goddess. We are changed, but only so that we may give you further blessings!”
Rhea continued undulating forward. Her soft bulk spread into the crowd, a sea of light green moving through peoples of various backgrounds. She could pick out each one of them by face, and most by name. They were townspeople, tradesfolk, and even students of the Officers Academy. Rhea tried to manifest her good will to the people, wanting them to accept and embrace her new form. “I have been aching to begin my duties again. I wish to serve you all.” Her heartbeat quickened. The onlookers were slowly silenced, either accepting of the woman thing that slithered amongst them or too afraid to say aught else. Amongst the crowd Rhea picked out Mercedes, a pious woman in the academy. She stooped, arms closing around the blonde. Rhea rose again, hoisting Mercedes easily into the air. She embraced the younger woman, pushing her into warm fat. “Can you all accept the woman that I’ve become?” Rhea asked, still hugging the other woman. A warm sun shone down upon her bulk, a sign from Sothis if ever there was one. Rhea was greeted by hands being placed upon her slug-like lower half. She slowly dropped Mercedes, prepared to embrace everyone in the crowd.
Catherine, standing in the back of the hall breathed a sigh of relief. At the very least there would be no torches and pitchforks. Rhea, in all her splendor and gigantism, moved within the crowd. Her lips kissed out sweet prayers and mentions of blessings. Catherine flexed an arm, not wanting to interrupt the impromptu ceremony. Though it was good that Rhea had been accepted, Catherine could not escape a troubling thought. Was acceptance really the best outcome? Did it beat being housed in secrecy? She watched her lady, knowing that curing her would only become harder. If it was possible at all anymore.
--- Orgies and Hors D'oeuvres ---
Rhea towered above the congregation. Were she not in motion, albeit slow and clumsy, she might have been confused for a statue. Rhea was the single largest entity within the abbey, Garreg Mach even. She towered above human and slug alike, moving with as much grace as a multi-ton being can. Servants and parishioners stared up at her in awe, eyes drawn away from the altar at the center of the chappel. She flowed down the aisle between the pews, filling it with her vast bulk. She was a colossus, a figure out of the depths of pre-enlightenment man. She was as green as fresh moss, and so radiant that a corona of light followed her about the abbey. Her belly jutted outward, equal parts taut and flabby. She was filled with the spirit of Sothis, so loved and blessed that the goddess had chosen her to bear children. At least, that was the official story given to the people. The curse laid upon Rhea and the others had reached further than any could have predicted, changing their biology. Only fatness and size was required for impregnation. Rhea had passed along the blessing story to her flock, half-believing it herself. She was as quick to gobble up pomposity as she was food.
“Ooooh. . .uuugghg. . .my ladies.” Rhea moaned as she passed by a section of her worshippers. They were young and buxom, maids that seemed to grow right from the fields of Fodlan. Rhea had found them one by one, selecting them by hand. Now, she had formed a choir of willing hearts and hands. “Join. . .haaah. . .your holy mother. . .oooh. . .in pregnant repose.” The great slug bowed, reaching her divine head from its high vantage to their lowly depths. Her gut spread across the marble floor, fat squishing out far enough to push aside chairs and benches. Rhea was draped in new vestments, befitting her size and importance. The cloth did little to hide her bulging stomach and breasts, each many times bigger than the pegasi and wyverns that were housed within the monastery. “I need. . .haaah. . .each of you. . .mmmhhm. . .dearly.” Soft arms pushed and caressed many women at once. Rhea could have scooped most of her inner cult up, letting them ride atop her pregnant belly, but resisted for the moment. There would be time enough for intimacy once away from the public.
The women made soft agreements and said little blessings, hopping out of their chairs. They wore gowns and dresses of purest white. Each gave Rhea a soft kiss and rub before running towards the doors which led to the lower halls. They could move easily amongst the tunnels and passageways, though Rhea would have to move slowly. Her bulk could hardly travel in the open anymore. She moved in ponderous undulations, seeping her impregnated fat across the floor. Wax had been used on most surfaces of Garreg Mach, allowing for the four blessed women to travel more easily. Rhea thrust her belly forward, stopping to feel her mass jiggling and babies kicking. Stubby arms, fit with bulging sacks of bicep fat, stroked the limited amount she could reach. Slowly, Rhea was becoming utterly useless. Fit only to be waited hand and tail upon, her numerous serving women would have to see to her needs, just as she desired. Even now, a quartet of women had to help her via tugging on her vestments. The parishioners cheered and sang as Rhea was led away into the passageways which would bring her to the room of reflection.
When Rhea arrived, she found many of the girls already undressing. Those struggling with their robes were helped by Catherine. She would waddle up, her many muscles rippling, and grab two loose points of fabric. The older woman, naked and gleaming with blessed oil, would rip the dresses open. A naked, nubile woman would pop out; ready for the festivities. Some would get instruments, others would find plates of food, and those remaining would make themselves ready for Rhea’s touch. All were naked and all were covered in scented oil soon enough. Catherine saw to that.
“Lady Rhea, your circle grows ever more lovely.” The older woman knelt, working her muscles as much as possible. The spell affecting her had started to wax full, granting her size beyond her wildest imagination. She had no need of her enchanted sword nor armor. Her muscles could deflect even the sharpest sword and her fists could crush a castle wall. She looked up at her lover and liege. “I had no idea such ripe fruit existed in Fodlan.” Catherine smiled and put a strong hand out. It grasped upon a round buttock, pert but not overly bloated. Catherine’s fingers massaged the ample cheek, making the woman squeal and jump excitedly. The warrior smiled, gently pulling the girl onto her knee. With the extra muscle, it was perfect to use as a chair. The naked woman wiggled, working herself into the mood for what was to come. An orgy in Rhea’s name, the pressing of lithe bodies upon the slug-woman and her amazonian bodyguard.
“Snatching fruit. . .from. . .uuuggh. . .the garden?” Rhea forced herself fully into the room. Her vast bulk filled much of it. She could not stretch to her full height and the widest sections of her belly and long tail came close to the sides. Rhea slithered slowly, bulk making it such that she had to travel at a snail’s pace. Eventually, the gravid slug-woman gave up and rolled onto her side. The room shook as the tallest woman in Garreg Mach landed. Even Catherine was thrown onto her knees, her muscles useless against the size imparted by the curse. Rhea lay fanning herself, trying to recover from the slow slither down the passageways. She fanned until lust took over, supplanting her exhaustion. “Come, undress your. . .aaah. . .gravid liege.” Rhea sniffed and motioned for Catherine and the other women to act. They all rushed forward, eager to gratify any request the other woman made. Rhea purred, her heavy tail thumping against the ground. Dust fell from the ceiling as the haughty goddess finally got the worship she had been desiring. The orgy began, though it was hardly the only one happening within the monastery.
---
“Oooo-OOOOH!” Petra squealed as women fought over access to her breasts and body. She made to roll from her side to her back, but could not manage the feat. Her stomach was too large, too filled with children. The sensation of tightness within her had only grown since the day of Rhea’s escape. She had been the first to impregnate herself, filling her womb via her own fatness and lust. That lust had only grown, provoking her body to change. Petra’s orange coloring had deepend into a lurid purple in places. Her breasts and belly looked as if they had been stained with paint, marking the most erogenous areas upon her bloated form. Petra heaved again, trying to make her body move. Her concubines laughed, kissed each other, and celebrated how heavy with child their lady was. “I am so child filled. . .my belly. . .haaaah. . . Dorothea!” Petra called, summoning her first and most prominent lover.
“Oooh, is my greedy wormling stuck again?” Dorothea instantly broke from the three women pleasuring her. She slapped their asses, sending them scampering across the dark and smokey room. Dorothea reared up, standing her muscular bulk upon shapely legs. Taking after her mistress, the singer was heavily pregnant. The constant flow of orgies had done as much for her as it had Petra. The only difference was that Dorothea had the strength to heft her heavy womb. Her muscled baby bump pushed aside naked women, covered in food that Petra had spilled. A stomach big enough to make an entirely new slug-woman loomed over Dorothea. Petra was so pregnant that there seemed to be no fat upon her belly. She was stretched to the point of glorious tautness. Dorothea kissed the edifice of virility. Though they had been created solely by Petra’s insane carnal desires, Dorothea could not help but think of the children within Petra as partially hers. She felt kicks and squirms within the vast belly, an army ready to burst out.
“Ooooh. . .your lips are. . .haaah. . .of pure sweetness.” Petra moaned, her body undulating. A fat tail, which snaked through a crowd of orgy attendees, made to wrap around Dorothea. It struggled to move, bloated and huge. Petra had not been capable of movement in at least a month. Dorothea wondered if she would ever be capable of it again. The singer did not mind, however. The more immobile Petra was, the easier it was to trap her for intimacy. “Roll me like. . .thunder.” The foreign woman’s idioms became more confused the hornier she grew. Petra lost the ability to speak as Dorothea began to rub her own pregnant belly upon Petra’s vast bump. A shudder strong enough to shake the room rumbled through Petra. Dorothea pushed her body closer, letting the pregnant woman feel her strength and belly. As much as Dorothea had taken on amazonian proportions, she was still small when compared to her lover. It would be a joyous struggle to move her.
“But a moment. . .uuuggh. . .dear.” Dorothea slowly squatted down. She was naked besides high heels, the straps of which wrapped up her thick calves. Dorothea squatted, jutting her butt out. Peak physicality was compared with peak indulgent fertility as the onlookers stared at both women. Their eyes feasted upon the flexing of every muscle upon Dorothea as they were summoned to action. Already large, her body seemed to grow as blood pumped into her arms and legs. Even grunting and pushing, Dorothea was magically feminine. Petra flapped her arms in ecstasy as she started to roll. From within their flabby cocoons, her arms shook. Dorothea licked and kissed Petra as she rose, making sure that the overgrown slug was as loved as possible. The horny onlookers cheered as Petra’s bulk was gradually hauled into place. Dorothea rose slowly, striations of muscle rippling. She stood on her high heels soon, then started striding forward. Her walk was a model’s saunter, power constrained into a feminine form. Petra blew kisses and spouted nonsense idioms, trying to repay whatever Dorothea did for her.
The obese, pregnant woman was finally pushed onto her back. She landed with a hefty thud. Again everyone in the room was thrown to their knees, save for Dorothea. She was already in motion, rushing to be the first person. Sexy as ever, she straddled Petra’s many chins and upper chest fat. Her muscular nakedness was spread over a small fraction of Petra’s pregnant obesity. Her belly pushed into Petra’s purple, fat lips. Dorothea gave a couple quick pumps of her hips, gathering all of the pregnant slug’s attention. Petra was often distracted, but never when sex was involved. “Time to start paying back.” Dorothea cooed, again bucking her hips. Petra’s wide tongue slowly peeled out of her mouth. Servants and fucktoys were starting to attach themselves to her mass, but she cared only for Dorothea’s happiness. Petra rumbled again.
“Your wishing. . .aaah. . .haaah. . . has command. . .over me.” The gravid slug from Birgid moaned, her long tongue lapping Dorothea’s belly. Lust overpowered them, making them act as animals. Yet, they were not the only couple showing their love. Across town, two souls made their way through the market. . .
---
“Hey! Show some respect for Lady Marianne!” Hilda pushed a nosey merchant away. The small man flew backwards, as if caught in the winds of a hurricane. He landed on the ground, pottery cracking in his hands. He trembled as he felt Hilda continue to approach. Thick, black high heels dug into the ground and the blade of her greataxe dug a trough behind her. She swayed, her bulging shoulders rolling. Hilda’s muscularity had taken on fearsome and freakish proportions. Her shoulders and arms were overdeveloped, back muscles forming small mountains on which her head and hair rested. Beyond a warrior, she seemed like a demon come to life. Her breasts bulged outward, bountiful with both fat and muscle. She seemed tight, constantly tensed and flexing. Her arms were so thickly padded they almost could not move fully. Yet, everyone was aware of the devastation they could unleash. Her axe was almost a formality. “Think twice before you offer such weak product again.” Hilda snorted, thumping her weapon down between the man’s legs. She might have done more, had Marianne not called her back.
“Ooooh. . .Hildeeee. . .do leave. . .uuuggh. . .him be!” Marianne’s voice was gentle and thick. She pushed forward through a sea of people, waving her bodyguard back over to her side. Marianne was the market made manifest: friendly, ever present, but ready to take the clothes off of an unwary person’s back. She undulated forward, back fat resting upon her wide tail. She was as golden and gilded as the coins within her fashionable purse. Her skin caught and spun the sun into strands of visible gold. There was little left of her blue coloring, save for her hair. She was a trophy slug, spreading and harvesting wealth throughout Garreg Mach. “We. . .uuuggh. . .must go. . .see. . .aaaggh. . .the tailor.” Marianne pushed her gut forward, naked rolls sloshing back and forth. As of yet, she was not pregnant like the other blessed ladies. Marianne had too many other concerns.
“Buuut Mari, he tried to rob you!” Hilda turned to growl at the swindler. Her neck strained, further burying her head. Rips appeared on her finely tailored shirt. Taxed suspenders snapped as the pink haired behemoth readied her axe. “We cannot allow him to do it again!”
“Psscch. . .he’s of. . .uuggh. . .no concern.” Marianne chortled, rubbing her thick hands together. She leaned further back on her tail, appearing as a woman lying on a reclining couch. “Whom. . .uuggh. . .do you think. . .sold it to. . .him.” She laughed, flabby belly bouncing up and down. Tears came from her eyes, blue like sapphires. The greedy slug wormed a hand into a purse fat with gold coins. “Made a pretty. . .penny. . .too!” She threw the coins in the air, letting them fall amongst her entourage like snowflakes. The crowd cheered. They began to scrape the sidewalks for any bit of stray wealth they could find. Marianne pulled ahead of them, her monolithic form finally detaching from the crowd of investors, business owners, and money grubbers. The only people to stay with her were her chosen ladies for the day. Far too fat for clothing, Marianne had to bedeck in other types of finery. The ladies constantly kissed and suckled at the gigantic worm, hands teasing soft rolls. On occasion, Marianne would stuff monetary notes down their skimpy dancer’s outfits.
Hilda glared at the man one last time before skipping her way back to the golden idol oozing her way across the market. “You’re the worst.” Hilda did her best to crush Marianne’s flab between her overdeveloped arms. Besides intimidation, being absurdly top heavy as a muscular woman allowed for great hugs. Hilda spread her arms, wishing they were longer just so they could grab more fat. She lifted up, testing her strength against her girlfriend’s bulk. Marianne started to budge, but only just slightly. She was getting bigger. Little by little, the smallest slug of the bunch was finding her way. Marianne’s obsessive detour towards riches had meant less time devoted to eating. However, as she became more disposed towards spending her accumulated gold, Marianne had begun to fill out.
“Really. . .I think. . .I’m the best!” Marianne laughed and pushed her gut out, further testing Hilda’s strength. The bulky pinkette dug her heels into the ground, straining her calves. Though underdeveloped, her lower body was still an exquisite machine. Cobblestones broke and gouges were dug in the earth as Hilda’s heels were scraped off. Hilda finally relinquished her hold, letting the big slug worm her way forward. “Admirable try. . .uuuggh. . .Hilly!” Marianne, her ego boosted by wealth and body mass, petted her bodyguard. Hands with only three fingers combed through pink hair, finding the bulging shoulders underneath. “Just a bit. . .oooofffggh. . .too much. . .uuggh. . .mass for you.” Marianne slapped her belly, proudly displaying the piles of rolls to the crowd. She started to rumble down the sidewalk more, shaking what had once been her butt. She began to count her coins, easily working as her thick lower half slithered along. “Good thing. . .we didn’t. . .bet on. . .it.” She tossed a ruby back.
Hilda caught the gem and ran after. “I would have tried harder!” She tucked the gemstone, as big as a man’s fist, between her breasts. It was held tight by the walls of muscle underneath her jiggling assets. As she caught up, Hilda pushed at Marianne’s golden mass. She bullied the area where Marianne’s torso started to widen into her trunk-like tail. “You have to give me a reason to try, duh!” Hilda crossed her arms under her breasts, making the ruby between them standout even more. She angled the gem so that it’s gleam would catch the rolling slug-woman’s eye. Nothing quite caught Marianne’ like gems. True to form, she slowed her slithering.
“Really now?” Marianne smiled knowingly. She slowly reached down to her left, hand feeling through one of her dancers’ bras. She squeezed and squished the soft breasts, playing with them until her sausage fingers found a trinket that she had given earlier. Marianne pulled out a beautiful pearl necklace. Each one was black and glittered with an enchanted light. Marianne pinched the dancer one last time, letting her know she was valued, before returning to her true love. “How about. . .another contest. . .then?” She gave a final push and undulation before stopping. She loomed over Hilda, spinning the necklace on one hand. “Winner gets a treat?” She put the wager out, leaning down to wrap the necklace around Hilda’s mountainous shoulders. The necklace helped to highlight their freakish size, as well as how deep her cleavage canyon was. Hilda herself was almost washed away in a flood of blubber. Marianne did not retreat, instead petting Hilda’s hair further. She would tug on her pigtails from time to time. It was the most loving, threatening motion Hilda had ever experienced.
“Y-yes!” The muscle freak held her ground. She stomped, cracking the stone underneath her fine shoes. “What’s the contest?”
“Best. . .” Marianne dropped her bulk as much as her girth would allow. Her gut pooled outward, supporting the rest of Marianne’s immensity. She looked into Hilda’s eyes, her irises glowing a vivid blue. “. . .kisser. . .wins.” Marianne said before lunging forward, her fat lips puckered. Hilda was pinned underneath tonnage that would crush a normal woman. She was protected only by the spell which Lysithea had woven. Though, thanks to her top heavy proportions, there was little chance of Hilda escaping until the contest was settled. Not that she would want the contest to end too quickly. She puckered her lips, trying to match Marianne’s sloppy kisses. As much as Hilda tried, there was little chance she was going to be able to keep up with her lover’s tongue. She could do little more than flex her muscles and pinch at the golden slug’s flab. However, she was hardly the only woman drowning in affection.
----
“Professor! You’re due for more food.” Lysithea tried to wriggle away from the grasp of Byleth. Her hard muscles were bathed in soft and slightly sweaty fat. Byleth was not a strong woman, but she was infinitely heavy. Breaking away from her grasp was like pulling out of quicksand. Lysithea struggled, but every movement only seemed to pull her down more. She could see little of her own body, eyes filled with dark green fat. Byleth rose above her, many chins flapping around a puckered mouth. “This is. . .aah. . .not the time for pleasantries.” Lysithea mimicked the worm women, trying to wriggle her way out from Byleth before the kiss could fall. The white haired woman blushed, afraid of the affection coming to her. It started with Byleth’s chins falling onto her. Lysithea was blocked from view, buried by her professors’ fat. Then, a wet and searching tongue came through the many chin folds. It tapped Lysithea first, then began sensually rubbing her. Finally, the rest of Byleth’s face came through.
“Oooooh. . .I’d much rather. . .do this!” Byleth’s voice was deep enough to make Lysithea’s chest rumble. She spread throughout the dinner hall, the fattest slug-woman to ever exist. She was a living mattress of fat, so corpulent that it was hard to tell where she began and ended. The blessed professor kissed her favorite student in an almost puppydog like fashion. Lips thick with blubber overpowered Lysithea from time to time, making sure she stayed put. “My favorite. . .student . . .gets a special. . .lesson.” The immobile slug wheezed. Her arms were long buried under fat, with only her hands flapping out of wagon wheel sized rolls. As she had fattened, her skin had turned darker, turning the opposite of Rhea’s divine green. Byleth was a woman given to gluttony, with some space left over for Lysithea in her heart. She began to undulate as much as her blobby body would allow. Lysithea was a small cork in an ocean of indulgent blubber. Byleth was much pleased by that. “You’ve gotten. . .scchoooo. . .tiny.” Byleth was perpetually out of breath.
“I have not!” Lysithea squealed. “Professor, you know. . .oooh. . .very well I’m. . .huge!” She tried in vain to flex her muscles, wanting to use them to escape. Having grown no taller, it was easy for the diminutive woman’s body to grow outward instead. She was a knee high wall of iron corded muscle. Clothes of any kind did not fit the short tank. It was only Lysithea’s constant demanding and bratty nature that kept her clothed. Garreg Mach’s tailors, those that were not busy with Marianne’s constant requests, were stretched thin trying to clothe Byleth’s princess. “I get bigger everyday!” She shouted, her face nuzzled and licked by the greedy woman.
“Me. . .BBBBLOOOORRRUUUP. . .too.” Byleth said, before returning to her work. Her lips closed around Lysithea’s, interlocking with hers. The immobile woman was surprised to find Lysithea kissing back. It was short and only for a moment, a break in her iron wall of awkwardness. Byleth wanted to live in that heavenly moment forever. She pressed her fat down more, straining the last muscles to exist on her body. Lysithea continued to kiss, her small but mighty body starting to writhe. Nervous, excited sweat poured between Byleth’s rolls. She was so close. Her little assistant was finally giving in. Months of flirting, pestering, and poking had started to pay off. Byleth almost wished her arms weren’t trapped in blubber prisons. It would feel nice to stroke Lysithea’s hair. Though, Byleth thought, maybe not quite so much as floating in her own fat. The mental debate was enough for Lysithea to break free.
“Ah. . .uuuggh. . .ha!” Lysithea pulled herself free from the wreckage of blubber and fat. She stood proud, short, and covered in lip prints. “Nice try, Professor!” Lysithea gloated, putting her hands on her surprisingly narrow hips. Her thick biceps pumped out along with her lats, shredding her jacket. Another trip to the tailor had been created by a desire to gloat. Lysithea continued to flex, feeling her professor’s eyes sinking into her sinewy arms and legs. Little by little, her outfit was ripped and ruined. From behind the tatters, a pair of pink panties and matching bra were stretched about a body that seemed to refuse them. Lysithea was girlishness housed within a pitbull. The more feminine her movements, the more her absurd musculature stood out. She turned, wiggling her tight butt at Byleth. “You will have to try a little harder to get this!” Lysithea tapped her butt, teasing the immobile mass behind her. The game was ruined when Byleth’s tongue tried to pull her panties off. “Professor! You perv!” Lysithea jumped away.
“Never taunt. . .thaaah. . .enemy!” Byleth rumbled, regurgitating an old lesson. “Unless they’re. . .beaten.”
“Just for that you’re. . .not. . .not getting any food!” Lysithea ran towards a bubbling kettle of stew. She scooped a gigantic ladle out, pretending to upend it into her mouth. “I’m going to eat everything and get even fatter than you!” Lysithea slurped the ladle, letting the fattening concoction pour into her mouth. It was richer than any food had a right to be. It was almost inhumanely packed with calories. The ladle alone would probably mean that Lysithea would wake up with a slight potbelly. Her advanced metabolism would burn it off in a day, converting it into yet more muscle. “Maybe I’ll even become a gigantic preggo worm, bigger than you!” The nearly naked woman teased, holding the ladle to her mouth as if it was a weapon.
“That. . .oooooh. . .soundssscch. . .” Byleth felt a strange stirring within her. A tightness growing well within her gut. She tried to pat her belly, forgetting that her hands were long buried. She bucked her hips, unable to get the image of a cursed Lsyithea out of her head. The two could grow together, becoming inseparable masses. Byleth undulated, trying to move her fat. She spread across the room she had once taken lunch with her pupils in. She still took her meals in the hall, but only with one. The sounds of clapping blubber filled the room as the immense slug-woman was provoked into action. The tight feeling within Byleth’s stomach only grew more intense as she dreamed. Lysithea, a cursed slug, undulating to and from the kitchens with platters of food for the pair to gorge on. Byleth shivered. Benches, tables, and chairs were further crushed as Byleth remembered the secrets of movement. She strained, forcing her body forward by a few inches, anything to get closer to Lysithea. “Sounndscch. . .amaaaazing.” Byleth said, tongue licking out of her mouth, trying to push the ladle into Lysithea’s mouth. Her heart felt like it was going to explode.
“OH!” Byleth gasped, feeling a tug in the pits of her gut. She fell down, a calm and euphoric feeling rushing over her. She looked up at Lysithea, vision turning pink and rosy. “Lysiteha. . .I think. . .I’m. . .”
