"Oooh...damn, that's some good grog...b-but...Gods, is it HOT in here...or is just me? Heh heh...heh heh heh hehhhHHHWWOOORRP! Whoops! Sorry about that one, old man! Didn't mean to singe you there!"
The surly bartender only just managed to duck underneath the counter in time as a stream of red flames spewed forth from Karlach's throat. Tieflings such as her weren't particularly known for being able to actually breathe fire, but given the Infernal Engine that she possessed instead of a heart, Karlach was capable of a whole lot of things that her kind usually couldn't do. Karlach didn't even breathe fire normally either, but at her current size and weight, it was more common than ever. She literally burned too hot for anyone to touch her but fire breath was something she couldn't do until she started getting fat.
"Be careful, okay? I'm not looking to end up as roasted as the dishes I serve!"
Karlach nodded, coughing a few times and released several more embers with a second, smaller belch. It really hadn't been her intention to go around looking for trouble, but it was also impossible to avoid sometimes. When you had to let it out then you had to let it out, plain and simple as that. Still, she knew the real reason that she was burping all of this fire was because she had been drinking a lot, eating a lot too, and it was all really, really turning her on in a big way.
In her current state, Karlach could barely handle standing for any lengthy period of time, but that didn't particularly bother her enough to actually do something about it. Her large and lumpy cheeks would crush apart any stool she sat on long before they would be burned to ash by her body's intense heat. Ordinarily, the act of gaining more weight than necessary shouldn't have been a problem for her.
The Infernal Engine inside her chest would typically melt away excess blubber, leaving only muscle behind. However, the problem came with her appetite. Karlach was unable to stop eating more food than she could actually burn off. Somehow, she had only managed to keep on getting BIGGER. Everything she ate tended to burn fast and turn into calories almost immediately, usually leaving her plenty hungry to eat all over again. Karlach would be stuck as a fat*ss unless she changed her ways, yet changing her ways certainly wasn't on the menu.
"Another one over here, my good man! I need it more than you know!" Karlach waved over at the bartender, who was feeling increasingly reluctant to continue serving her. However, he had already decided that he would make as much money off of her as he reasonably could until it was clear that she needed to go before burning the whole place down. Karlach smiled from between a set of jowls as big as her fists, which meant they were very big jowls indeed.
The bartender gave her an obviously irritated look before walking away. "What a charmer." The tiefling shrugged.
Karlach snatched the new tankard with a bark of gratitude and a loud guffaw before she took her first chug. Her stomach could feel itself swelling once again with warm grog, but it was such a wonderful sensation, to be able to pour all of this ale into her great and sagging belly that covered the whole section of the counter in front of her. This fire she personally felt inside was now less the burning inside her chest and instead a much more pleasant heat that originated elsewhere...deeper within.
Karlach slapped her gut hard. She really grabbed at it, digging her fingers firmly into the fat and testing the limits of her thickness. She could fill her whole chubby palm with blubber, even getting it in between her fingers, but she would never be able to pinch any harder than she was right now. Her belly was expansive, certainly, but it took more effort than you would think to grab at it from her viewpoint. Not only were Karlach's formerly muscular arms a struggle to maneuver these days on account of being obscenely swollen, but her chest was actually almost as large as her stomach to a whole.
The warrior woman was a complete mess weight-wise, no doubt about it, and yet she couldn't deny feeling the happiest she'd been in a very, very long time.
Karlach threw her head back, double chin jiggling furiously. Another belch shot out of her throat like a cannon ball blast. It brought with it another stream of flames, which seemed to receive plenty of approval from the nearby drinking group of dwarves, dragonborn and half-orcs. They saw the gigantic, bloated, fire-breathing woman as their primary source of entertainment for the night.
"What do you think you're doing? Are you going to have to leave already?" Shadowheart laughed suddenly as she waddled over to take a few seats at the bar. Her cheeks were almost as red as Karlach's skin. She'd already been drinking plenty but she felt like she had it in her to drink even more. Karlach was the only person that could keep up with her nowadays.
Karlach soon began to laugh right alongside her companion. Great, rippling waves flowed across every inch of Karlach's entire body. Her body couldn't stay still, not even for a moment. Even those very prominent rolls of back fat behind her, as well as the large and meaty arms of this woman, were already jiggling in a frantic manner. It was like the fat, packed so densely underneath her skin, moved with a consistency like water. Boiling water, perhaps to be even more accurate.
"You think I can actually leave through that bar door over there? Just look at it! That's for someone teeny-tiny, not biggy-biggy! Ha ha ha ha!" Karlach had already gone through that door once and had left it in a dilapidated state. Evidence of that was present by the large, deep cracks and plenty of burns all over the door's frame. A broken door hinge, as well.
Shadowheart smiled and rolled her eyes. She almost would have reached over to enthusiastically pat the other woman on the shoulder, but luckily she wasn't quite drunk enough yet to forget that touching this woman would be akin to sticking your hand in an active fireplace.
One time long ago, when she had once been able to charge into battle wielding both an oversized battle ax and her own mighty muscles, Karlach could swing that weapon with such power that she would simply reduce everything to cinders. Nowadays, it was next to impossible to imagine that she could actually handle even lifting a sack of apples. She was actually still stronger than expected, but you couldn't expect her to go fighting in the same style any longer. She could hurl herself at you, essentially turning into a living fireball, but that wasn't entirely practical for battle either. Karlach was effectively incapable, but getting on her bad side was still just as plainly stupid of an idea as it would have been when she was thinner.
"f*ck! BBLOOOORRRRRP! I'm still so damn parched! I'm a TIEFLING, not a HALFLING! I need a whole lot more booze than just this before I say -UUURRRRP- the night is over!"
Karlach, more drunk than ever, leaned over the counter to try and pour some more ale from the tap itself. The bartender hurried over to stop her, but since he couldn't push her back with his own hands, he was left at a loss on how to handle this. Karlach let out a great wheeze, she was distinctly out of breath, and there was a very obvious bright sheen of sweat all over her multiple chins, sagging jowls and especially prominent breasts. Several droplets of sweat fell off of her blubber and hit the counter; a distinct sizzling sound as well as some steam was produced with every drop.
Her cleavage, her breasts as a whole, stretched out especially far in front of her as well as around her, all because of the prodigious amount of weight that she had gained. Thick rolls of armpit fat melded into the sides of her breasts, forming 'wings' of fat similar to the 'wings' on her arms. The sheer girth and width of her chest would have easily drawn attention by any and all who so much as glanced at her. She could also crush anyone who dared stare too long extremely easily too, and with her breasts as the only weapon. Being pinned down by an oversized chest that burned hotter than the coals in a hungry goblin's oven did not sound particularly thrilling so very few risked to tempt her.
"Look, don't mess with the liquor, okay? If you want more, I'll pour it for you! Just take this and eat it, okay? It's on the house this time!" The bartender hastily pushed a plate of potato scones over for the tubby woman.
"Now that's what I'm talking about! Hand 'em over!"
Karlach licked her lips and wiped the back of her mouth with her massive arm. There was so much fat packed into that one limb alone. It looked exactly like an entire barrel's worth of chub had been shoved directly into her forearm. She couldn't even flex with the obese limb; it would be next to impossible to even lift it over her head without a considerable amount of strain. The same could be said for her other arm as well. Using those fattened limbs sporting fingers thicker than sausages, she grabbed at the food and stuffed several scones into her mouth.
Karlach's shockingly fat tail arched over her bulbous ass cheeks and splayed out onto the floor. It was a lumpy, doughy thing; it tended to drag across whatever wooden floor or dirt trail that its owner was usually lumbering across. Even the jagged point on the tail's end had become harmlessly soft. Some poor, drunk sod tripped right over the ample appendage, but Karlach didn't bother looking up from her meal to acknowledge what had happened. If even the tail had begun puffing up, you knew a tiefling was far too overfed for their own good.
She was still hungry after the potato scones, of course. Karlach brazenly stole a roasted chicken leg off of a nearby plate that wasn't her own, taking a huge bite right out of it. She sank her sharp teeth nice and deep into the meat. The chicken leg had been sitting untouched for at least an hour, but the flavor still hit her so hard. There was one distinct benefit to her internal inferno above all else and that was that her tongue, her mouth, always kept food steaming hot while she ate. She could gorge herself with cold meat and soup like it was no one's business because the heat would always be there for her.
"HHHWWWUUUURRRAAAAP! GGWWWAAAAOOORRRRRRP! BWLOOOORRRRUURRRRP!" Karlach could feel all of the food and ale finally catching up with her; she kept on belching over and over. Flames spewed forth from her throat uncontrollably. Luckily nothing had yet to catch on fire, but the odds of such fortune being maintained were rapidly running out as Karlach released more gas. She didn't want to say it out loud, but she felt like she could literally explode at any moment.
"Geez, can someone keep this fat*ss under control? Get her out of here already!" shouted one of the men nearby who had been less than amused with the tiefling's antics, "She's gonna burn this whole bar down and take us all with her before she's through!"
With leather gloves to protect himself if only slightly, the man approached Karlach and tried to grab her by her chubby wrist. This, of course, did not go over very well with the woman in question. Karlach turned to look at the bastard who had dared put his filthy mitt on her like that. Her golden eyes were bulging wide and her razor sharp teeth were bared. Even with all of the fat packed into her face, she still looked absolutely terrifying to see up close.
"Don't! Touch! The Karlach!"
The Karlach then proceeded to throw a punch that was at least three times stronger than anticipated. Watching from nearby, the bartender let out a groan. It was times like these that he was thankful he had taken out insurance on this bar beforehand.
The tubby tiefling seemed to be having fun getting into a bar fight, but there was still the matter of Shadowheart to address as well.
Shadowheart had her own fun drinking on her own. Although she had come here with her companions, she had been doing well keeping to herself for the most part, mostly because she was not looking for any sort of trouble. She had already filled her huge, swaddling, bloated sphere of a gut with so much alcohol that she could probably burst. Getting into a fight alongside Karlach would have done her no good. A Cleric of Shar would do no good for her reputation if she went and vomited in the middle of a busy tavern.
Shadowheart had believed she could have been the one woman in their camp to maintain a healthy weight. She had believed, without doubting it for even a second, that she would never put on a single unnecessary pound. She had believed that she would never fall prey to the temptations of gluttony that the world itself seemed to thrust before her time and time again.
Shadowheart had believed that she was unbreakable, unshakeable, incapable of being swayed...and yet here she was, right now, as a woman with a backside wide enough to occupy more than a single chair at once.
Her tremendous ass filled two whole stools with plenty of more flab lurching and sagging over the sides. Seats with arms were simply not possible for her to sit in anymore unless it also happened to be as wide as a bench. Great globs of back fat drooped down her back and pooled into an even larger roll of fat on top of her ass cheeks.
Shadowheart may be personally harsh on herself for being so broad in the beam, but there was no denying that she had managed to stay the 'thinnest' of the three female companions. She was still smaller than Karlach and, glory to Shar, she was still far, far smaller than Lae'zel. She prayed to her Goddess every single morning and every single night that she would never end up as obscenely, irrevocably porcine as the githyanki warrior.
Shadowheart took another swig of grog and then grabbed at her flabby double rolled belly underneath the counter. She was enjoying feeling how pulpy and doughy it was in her fingers. She quite liked the sensation of it and there was no way for her to pretend like she didn't.
The blush present on her plump cheeks resided because of that sensation rather than because her inebriation. She sighed and shook her head. This wasn't the way she should behave. If only, she then thought, that their leader had been here to rub her stomach instead of Lae'zel's.
Meanwhile, two of their women's male companions had been observing them from their own table in a corner of the bar.
"We really should probably do something about Karlach there, don't you think?" Gale asked the other man.
Astarion just laughed into his tankard before he took another drip. "Honestly, this is the best entertainment I've had all night! Let her keep going! We'll do something if she starts actually making the scaffolding fall, but otherwise, she's a riot and a half! Let her rough up an idiot or two stupid enough to try and get in her way. It's a good lesson."
"What about the other two?" Gale made a curt nod to a certain doorway near them, which led to the inn side of the bar upstairs.
"Those two?" Astarion sounded much less pleased now, and he shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant manner. "I think we'd do better to leave them be tonight. Let that githyanki have her fill. The more time I can spend NOT dealing with that hassle the better in my book. Our good man Tav can take care of that grumpy big ball of FAT all by himself. That's why I want to enjoy tonight. Tomorrow morning comes and she's going to be all of our shared problem again because she won't be able to move an inch without a couple of levitation spells working in tandem."
Gale smirked a little. "That's true, isn't it?"
"Don't worry about a thing and keep on drinking with me, Gale, old chum. Let's kick back and enjoy the show for now." Astarion burst into laughter when he looked over again. "Oh, look, Karlach's SITTING on him now! Ha ha ha!"
Lae'zel was quite possibly the most gluttonous, engorged githyanki to ever be seen in all of the Forgotten Realms.
She was currently splayed out on the inn's only queen-sized bed, sleepily gnawing her way through a positively stacked black pudding platter. She had to clutch her fork with fingers so puffy that they couldn't be depended upon to grip a blade any longer. They likely couldn't even form a proper fist if she tried. She laid on her left side so that her stomach splayed out across the bed's velvet red blanket. Her stomach let out tiny gurgles and bubbles of hunger pangs, its refusal to admit satisfaction as evident as ever.
Lae'zel had her plate of sausages and potatoes within reach of her bloated bingo wings and equally porcine face, but four more plates hovered overhead via simplistic levitation spells: a large chunk of honeyed ham, a whole pizza topped with extra sausage, a simmering hot bowl of vegetable soup, and a whole roasted turkey.
Even more dishes of food still yet touched were situated on top of her belly. Her form was so vast at this point that she could literally use her own stomach in replace of an actual table.
Lae'zel paused in her seemingly endless gorging so that she could let out a burp, soon followed by a yawn. Given how she spent so much of her time just eating and sleeping these days, and so little of that same time actually up and moving on her exceedingly chubby feet, it was a wonder why she was constantly feeling the urge for slumber. Then again, anyone in her current state would likely be sleepy all of the time. Lae'zel weighed nearly the same as a fully grown ogre these days, and almost none of that weight was in the form of musculature at all.
To have been so thoroughly altered, transforming from a vicious and bloodthirsty holy warrior who proudly slaughtered her foes in her deity queen's name to this lethargic and morbidly obese blob who could little but demand more food with which to fill her maw...it must have seemed nothing less than mortifying.
Well, that time for such mortification had already long since passed. Lae'zel had, for the most part, accepted her fate. This woman was the one and only lover of Baldur's Gate's unsung hero, and now, thanks to his love and encouragement and (more importantly) her own indulgences running amok, she had completely let herself go.
Tav, the hero in question, her fellow adventurer, stood attentively by her side in case she was in need of anything. He loved her most of all. He watched her and he could not take his attention away, even as Karlach's rampage became increasingly more audible from downstairs. The dragonborn took in everything about Lae'zel and he knew, without a doubt, that he wanted to be here with her now.
Lae'zel sank her fangs into the sausage meat, tearing off another sizable chunk with relative ease. With every chew, the gigantic githyanki's sagging jowls jiggled and her neck roll quivered. Her upturned nose looked especially tiny when framed between such a sizable set of cheeks and a double chin so fat that it had completely superseded her own neck to meld them together. Her face was very, very fat. You could easily surmise the rest of her weight from a single look at her voluminous visage.
The markings of her race, tiny black accent spots scattered symmetrically on either sides of her face, were also still visible, but the widened expanse of her smooth, yellowish-green skin had acquired more mass than ever before and made them less easily visible. Some of the rolls and folds she had on her body, some were smaller than others, but they all possessed the same soft, squishy, doughy texture.
The warrior paint was still there, only because Lae'zel refused to have it wiped away even after gaining hundreds and hundreds of pounds. The multitude of small or thin scars Lae'zel bore on her face, those remnants of her vicious warrior past, were barely visible any longer. Her whole visage had become so soft, so plump and so exceptionally adorable.
Her stomach, when at its most swollen and bloated state like it currently was, was about as large or even larger than the queen-sized mattress itself. It was a dense and meaty 'blanket' comprised of the most bulky, knobbly sort of flesh. No, not only a blanket, but it was actually solid enough and expansive enough that it could serve an entire 'bedspread' for her lover. It had been stretched far by countless feasts, distending so much more than should be reasonably possible.
Lae'zel's stomach was where her weight was at its most prominently condensed. It was nearly impossible to put into words the sheer amount of blubber that was stored here. There were plenty of visible markings of scars and stretch marks all over her belly, some of them left there from old battles and even more nowadays made on account of her many 'encounters' with delicious meals that kept her eating for hours on end.
Standing and walking were incredibly simple actions that Lae'zel no longer did on a daily basis entirely on account of her stomach. So far did the lard and adipose sag that it would reach past her swollen cankles. It likely could continue to sag further still if she did not stop from eating as she did every single day. Her belly was the heaviest part of her by far.
Her breasts and her buttocks were both substantial but they still drastically paled in comparison to he abdominal mass. The biggest bra in Baldur's Gate was still barely holding those jostling jugs of hers in place but only BARELY. The matching underwear had already burst off of her earlier that very night.
Her beloved Tav, who was referred to as 'The Dark Urge' by those he did not wish to know, placed a scaled hand upon Lae'zel's stomach and offered a light caress. He dragged his hand northward, eventually reaching the black scattering of spots all over her right hip. Thankfully, such a dense layer of pure blubber like this could never be punctured by his scales.
He was still sometimes known as the Dark Urge, yes, but his 'dark urge' no longer had anything to do with the overwhelming murderous desires he once suffered from. Lae'zel had been there as she supported him, watched over him, and helped him break past that terrible curse. Nowadays Tav's 'dark urges' were no longer killing-related, but instead, in a much more preferable sense, these 'urges' were why his beloved was now by far the fattest woman in all of Baldur's Gate. An urge to fill her with all of the very best things in life.
The colossal blob of a woman swallowed her last few bites of blood sausage. She was out of breath and still loudly yawning in between her belches. She could barely move her arms, so draped in folds of adipose as they were, so she had to drape them down on her sides once more.
The portly githyanki had actually tired herself from the simple act of eating. This was her most familiar activity and yet it became a strain if she did it for too long without assistance. However, at the same time, she despised being pampered too much. Somehow, despite everything, Lae'zel had stubbornly held onto quite a lot of her warrior's pride. That was why she was only 'mostly' accepting of her fate.
Lae'zel licked her lips, yawned again, and then burped under her breath. There was still some potato mush on her jowls, so Tav grabbed a napkin to clean her face. She winced in response to the cloth as it came into contact with her jowls. She had been so busy eating up until now, it had locked her in something of a trance. With Tav getting in so close, touching her in a place she preferred untouched unless explicitly permitted, Lae'zel had finally snapped back to attention once again.
"K-K'chakhi!" Lae'zel wheezed out while shaking her head. As she had gained more and more weight over time, the githyanki's voice had not only deepened slightly but had even developed an eminent lisp. Her jowls and chins were just THAT fat. "Chk! Did I ashk for my face to be cleaned? To be treated l-like I wash a helpleshsh babe? What'sh do you take yourshelf to be, my varsh?"
Tav quickly took the napkin away. He didn't have a whole lot to say except an apology, but he knew for a fact that she wouldn't have likely ever cleaned herself up on her own. Lae'zel took a few moments to huff and puff some more. She glared at him, but it wasn't a particularly hateful glare. It was more like she was tired and she understood his intentions but she would have liked it better if he waited. Everything was an effort for her most days no matter how small.
Right now, in a sack in the corner, sat the armor she had once worn and the blade that she had once wielded. Those items would never seen the light of day ever again. Lae'zel would never be able to wear them as she currently was. She would never return to her previous fit and slender form.
For a time, when Lae'zel first started gaining weight, she had still expressed her capability to fight. She wanted to go back into battle, to make her enemies bleed, to indulge in her pride. She swung her blade for practice over and over while claiming she would be 'return to proper fighting shape' in due time.
That due time, of course, never came. She only continued getting fatter and fatter. No doubt that the sort of food that githyanki warriors subsisted off of, probably hardtack or simple rations as would befit their warrior culture, was far and below the quality of what she was permitted to enjoy in Baldur's Gate. It had to have been like some sort of awakening for her, the first time she tried a slice of pizza.
To be surrounded with such an abundance of genuinely delicious food quickly entrapped her in a way that Lae'zel had clearly not been prepared for.
When she had gained to a certain high number, that was when her significant other realized and later admitted that he rather liked her this way. He indulged her every time she wished to be indulged. This was not about pride, it was only about HUNGER.
Never, ever did he tell her that she couldn't have another snack if she wanted one, especially if said snacks happened to be eaten in the middle of the night or during their private time together. She ate plenty and soon fattened, growing faster and more pronounced in ways that any other race likely never could. Perhaps this was the reason why the githyanki did not eat much to begin with.
In any case, back to the present, Tav put the napkin away and apologized again for doing that without asking, Lae'zel took a few more deep breaths. Tav already knew this was because she had plenty that she wished to say. The dragonborn man stood silently in preparation to hear her out. He already suspected exactly what she wanted to say; he had come to understand his beloved butterball extremely well these days.
"Chk! Do you ever think about what'sh you've done? Look at me! It'sh ish all your fault'sh that'sh I've become sho o-obshcenely obeshe! You've rendered me s-sho incapable! I c-can'tsh even call myshelf a warrior anymorah! BWWWUURRP~! Ugh! I feel like I am a hshar'lak, a traitor to all githyanki kind! Vlaakith would not sh'pare me a shecond glanshe! I am t-too fat'sh to shtand on my own anymore! I am too f-fat'sh to lift a blade! I cannot cut down my foesh and m-make my e-enemiesh bleed and shuffer by my own hand ash I once did! I eat'sh and I eat'sh but'sh I neber tire of it! I am entirely dependent'sh on your attention...and your love...and your f-food...it'sh all jusht too much...I have losht all control...and yet...yet..."
Lae'zel paused briefly to look up at the Dark Urge with those glossy, ochre eyes of hers. Lae'zel took another second to breathe and refill her lungs. Their stares held. Though it was difficult to tell, a faint blush might have developed on her jowls. A bashful, sheepish kind of expression that was rarely seen coming from someone like herself. She shuddered in such a way that it made her entire ocean of a body ripple in place for several seconds.
Finally, her stomach let out an oh too familiar rumble from deep within its incredible depths. Her serrated ears glowed as much as her face did.
"...I-I'm shtill hungry. Feed me. Pleashe."
The Dark Urge nodded. Who was he to deny her? He grabbed a plate of pizza out of the air and placed it front of her. She accepted it, quietly muttering a shy 'thank you', and then she proceeded to stuff her face once again. She would eat more soon and then she would eat even more later.
Despite her protests, Lae'zel was not miserable in her current circ*mstance, far from it. She was simply a little grumpy sometimes because she despised how she was no longer able to fight. She'd been a grumpy kind of githyanki to begin with, putting it lightly, so this wasn't anything truly new for her. She liked to protest now and then but never really pushed to make a change.
The Dark Urge didn't hold it against her because, in the end, he loved her. Also, she never stayed mad for long. She could NEVER, EVER stay mad if there was still more food to be eaten. Lae'zel's eyes lit up in such a cute way when she saw the pizza be placed in front of her. She sank her fangs into the cheese, tomato and bread with such eagerness, not caring about some of the grease that dripped onto her chins or her chest.
Now that Lae'zel was being sated with another tasty meal, Tav made his move. He carefully positioned himself onto the creaking bed to get in closer to his lardy love. He summoned a pair of Mage Hands with only a quick muttering of the spell. He was fully prepared to give her all of the stomach rubs that she would inevitably beg for.
Carefully taking a few more plates of food off of her belly, he placed them down by her face and she inevitably began eating them too. As always, so insatiable, like she literally could not help herself. Truly, though, it was what she deserved: to be absolutely, positively, completely spoiled in this manner.
This was a feast that would last all night long, but fortunately for the Dark Urge and his companions, Baldur's Gate wasn't the kind of city that ever seemed to sleep.
