The warm breeze of mid-morning wafts through the sunlit gates of Rubi, a bustling town tucked between rolling hills and wide meadows. Merchants shout their wares in the market, savory smells waft from the tavern, and horses neigh from the stables in the distance. But none of that matters to one particularly plush fox girl standing at the entrance with a wide grin and a belly that already makes her travel clothes strain.
Meet Astoria: a curvaceous fox with dreams bigger than her appetite (well... almost). She’s finally arrived in Rubi, determined to join the Adventurer’s Guild and become a legendary name. Fame, fortune, and glory await—or so she hopes. But before she can even ask where the guild is, her stomach lets out a GROOOOAN, and her nose twitches at the scent of roasted meats, fresh bread, and honey-glazed everything.
It’s been a long journey, and she really could use a meal...
Where will Astoria go first?
[[- Go to the local tavern. The quintessential place for any adventure's beginning, and the food smells great as well!->Tavern]]
[[- Go to the market. Astoria can smell the food from here, and maybe they offer free samples...->Market]]
The Market Square of Rubi bursts with life. Colorful awnings stretch over rows of vendors, each one hawking food louder than the last: skewers of char-grilled meats, sugared fruits on sticks, sizzling dumplings, and wheels of buttered cheese stacked high.
Astoria steps into the chaos, her hips already brushing crates and her soft tail catching on hanging signs. Her belly grumbles loud enough to startle a few pigeons as she takes in the overwhelming aroma buffet before her.
A friendly stall owner instantly thrusts a skewer of glazed pork into her paw. “Here! Try some—refusing food’s rude in Rubi!”
Astoria blinks, then grins. “Oh? That’s your custom here?”
She takes a bite. Slooorp. Then a second skewer is offered. And a third. A vendor across the way waves over with a tray of steaming dumplings. “You must try these, miss!”
She tries to pace herself. She really does.
But the crowd just won’t let her. Every smiling vendor insists on feeding her. "You can't say no!" becomes a chant. Manners demand she accept every offer—and so she does.
Plate after plate, bite after bite, Astoria waddles through the crowd, each step slower, her belly ballooning beneath her stretched tunic. By the time she reaches the fountain plaza, her gut is sloshy and taut, swaying heavily in front of her, jiggling with every apologetic shuffle through the crowd.
She finds a small bench, sinks onto it with a FLOOMP, and groans.
“Ohh... I can’t take another bite...”
GROOOAAAAN... Her belly gurgles in protest, a tight, overfed orb that now presses into her thick thighs and up into her chest.
A fruit vendor walks past. “Have some melon, love!”
“I—mmrgh... okay... maybe justttt... a bit more...”
[[- Go for the back alleys, Astoria has had enough of the pushy vendors.->M2-A]]
[[- Buy some food, she came here to eat anyways, and it would be rude to not buy anything!->M2-B]]The Sizzling Swig Tavern stands at the heart of Rubi, its windows fogged from the heat of grilled meats and boiling stews. Astoria pushes open the heavy wooden door and is immediately hit with a wave of warmth, laughter, and mouth-watering smells.
Inside, adventurers clink mugs, barmaids weave between tables, and somewhere in the corner a bard plucks at a lute. But Astoria’s focus is locked on the buffet—a rustic spread of roasted boar, honeyed yams, cheese wheels, buttered rolls, and a mountain of pastries. Her belly //GLOOOORPS// in approval.
She waddles to an empty table (not an easy task—her hips nearly knock over a serving tray), plops herself down, and starts gorging.
One plate becomes five. Then ten. Her belly balloons forward, gurgling louder with each bite. Her clothes begin to creak… then //RIPPP!//, her top gives out. By the time she polishes off a full pie, Astoria has quadrupled her weight, her belly dominating her lap and wobbling like rising dough.
Just then, a drunk wolf stumbles over from the bar. He reeks of ale and mischief, swaying slightly, eyes locked on her massive, jiggling gut.
“Heeey there, fluff… hic... need help rubbing that big ol’ belly?”
[[- Flirt back, you could use an extra pair of hands to give you a bellyrub as you gorge yourself further.->T3-C]]
[[- Swallow the drunk whole, well, he clearly wanted to be inside you anyways tho probably not like this...->T4-C1]]
[[- Ignore the drunk and keep eating, Astoria is here for the feasts not for the flirts.->T3-I]]
[[- Go to the stables. Your whole body feels so heavy now, and its bothersome to move around with that huge sloshing belly, maybe what Astoria needs is to get a mount!->TavS]]
Astoria doesn’t even glance at the drunk anthro wolf as he sloppily stumbles up beside her. “H-hey there, cutie... you need help rubbin’ that belly?” he slurs, clearly more interested in her swelling curves than anything else.
She just snorts, grabs another platter of honey-glazed ribs, and starts devouring them bone by bone, juices dribbling down her chin. The wolf lingers for a moment, slightly swaying, before realizing he’s not getting any attention and sulks back to the bar.
Astoria, meanwhile, is in her own world.
Plates stack up around her like towers. Empty mugs clatter beside her tail. Her belly—already impressive before the first bite—is now enormous, a swollen, jiggling orb that spills between her knees and threatens to reach the floor. Her hips stretch the limits of the tavern bench, each wobbling cheek fighting for space as her plump tail flicks lazily between them. The seams of her outfit gave up ages ago; her top lies in ribbons around her heaving chest, exposing the swell of her breasts, slick with sweat and gravy.
The bartender, with a stunned expression, watches her gulp down an entire roasted bird in one go. He whistles low, genuinely impressed. “Damn, girl… if you can keep going, I’ll make the rest of it on the house. I gotta see how far you’ll take this.”
Astoria pauses mid-bite, then grins—sauce smeared across her cheek, belly gurgling with anticipation. “Mmm… deal.”
What follows is nothing short of legendary.
The tavern grows quiet as all eyes fall on the fox girl feasting like a beast. She scarfs down stew straight from the pot, sucks the frosting off a tower of cupcakes, chugs entire pitchers of mead. GROOOAAAN… SLOSH… BLOOOOORP. Her belly roils with activity, stretching tight and round, quivering with every greedy bite. Her hips expand to either side, engulfing the bench. Her belly spreads across the floorboards like dough rising in the oven—loud, hot, and alive.
Her thighs are thick and plush, pinning her in place like soft anchors. Her arms, now doughy and dimpled, barely reach past the curve of her taut stomach to rest atop it. She’s a vision of gluttonous excess—sweaty, stuffed, smiling wide. Her heavy breathing sounds like slow wind through a canyon, her cheeks glowing with flushed pride and indulgent warmth.
A crowd gathers, murmuring in awe. Some cheer. Some gasp. A few place bets on whether she’ll pass out, pop, or devour more.
Astoria slumps back against the wall. Her belly surges forward, sloshing with a deep, wet BLORP as she spreads her thighs wider to accommodate it. The tavern is dead silent. Everyone watches.
Then finally, she lets out a long, drawn-out
''[[UUUUURP->T4-I]]''
By the time Astoria reaches the stables, she’s gasping for breath—each step a full-body wobble, her belly dragging just above the dirt road, swaying like a sloshy wrecking ball. Her hips knock against fence posts, and more than one stablehand turns to stare as she approaches, equal parts shocked and… curious.
She wipes her brow and takes in the scene: hay piles, snorting horses, and a squat little stablehouse nestled behind a wooden fence. Her eyes scan for someone in charge—and there she is.
A thick, busty stable girl leans against the fence, arms crossed beneath her generous chest. She quirks a brow at Astoria’s heaving form. “You look like you just swallowed a feast,” she smirks. “Looking for a ride… or a wheelbarrow?”
Astoria places both paws on her gut, giving it a comforting jiggle. “Just a ride. My feet are... over it.”
“Sure, that'll be—” The stable girl pauses. “Wait. You got coin, right?”
Astoria’s ears twitch. She freezes.
She absolutely does not.
All her money was spent on gorging herself.
The stable girl narrows her eyes. “No money?”
Astoria smiles sheepishly. Her curves wobble with the motion, breasts resting atop her enormous belly like twin mountains on a globe. “Heh... I can explain.”
The stablehand crosses her arms. “You’d better. Or scram.”
[[- Swallow the stablehand and steal a horse. Shooing Astoria away like that, she's practically asking for it!->SV]]
[[- Try to sneak past and steal a horse before anyone notices... swallowing the girl may attract unwanted attention->SR]]
[[- Walk to the castle on foot. It's only a 10 minute walk away... for Astoria it will be about 30. To be fair she could use the exercise->Castle]]
Astoria licks her fingers clean as the drunken anthro wolf stumbles toward her, reeking of ale and locked onto her like a moth to a flame. His eyes are glassy but clear enough to drink in every inch of her overfed curves—her rounded belly resting heavy across her lap, her plush chest straining her tavern-worn top, and the way her wide hips practically spill off the bench.
“H-Hey there, foxy,” he slurs, “that belly of yours… could use a good rub.”
Astoria raises an eyebrow, her tail flicking slowly behind her. She leans forward, resting her heavy chest atop her gut, giving him a teasing grin.
“Mmm~ I was hoping someone would volunteer,” she purrs. “It’s not going to rub itself… unless you think you’re too full of fluff and bark to handle a real woman’s belly.”
The wolf’s ears perk. “Oh, I can handle it.”
With no further prompting, he slides in beside her, placing his paws gently—then greedily—on the warm swell of her belly. His thumbs dig in, massaging slow, reverent circles into her gut. The flesh is tight but soft, plush with food, her stomach gurgling beneath the surface with a wet SLOSH.
“Damn,” he mutters, eyes wide, “you’re like... a feast in fur form.”
Astoria lets out a long, low moan and stretches, her belly heaving as she breathes. “Mmmmh... And I’ve still got room left, big guy. Why? Thinking about feeding me?”
The wolf chuckles, tail wagging. “Actually... I’ve got a better idea.”
He slaps a hand on the table and shouts, “Eating contest! Me vs. this bottomless beauty. Winner gets anything they want!”
A cheer goes up from the nearby patrons, some clapping, others calling for bets. A barmaid drops off two massive platters of meat pies and roasted boar.
Astoria smirks and cracks her knuckles. “Anything I want, huh? Hope you’re into belly worship, wolfie.”
“And if I win... I hope you’re into being dessert, sweetheart,” he fires back, licking his lips.
The table becomes a blur of crumbs and steam. Astoria devours plate after plate, her cheeks puffed, her gut expanding outward by the minute. Her shirt rides up and up, eventually giving way with a soft rrriiip as her belly bursts free into the open air. She doesn’t care. Her only goal is victory.
The wolf keeps up. Barely.
Both of them grow slower, heavier, sweatier. Their guts swell like twin balloons—his a thick, firm dome under his gray fur, hers a plush, sloshing mountain that lets out gurgles and groans like a creature all its own.
UUUURP.
Astoria slumps back, dazed, paw lazily rubbing her bloated stomach. Her ears twitch.
“I… I think I’m... full,” she murmurs, cheeks red, tongue flicking over gravy-slick lips.
The wolf finishes his last bite, then thumps his gut with a proud grin. “That’s game.”
She glances at him through half-lidded eyes. “No fair. You were pacing yourself.”
“You offered bellyrubs. I took motivation.”
He leans in close, voice lowering to a growl. “Now... you’re mine.”
Astoria lets out a soft laugh, her hands twitching at her sides, too bloated to resist. “Hah... w-wait, what do you—?”
But she knows.
The wolf grabs her by the hips and opens wide.
Astoria lets out a soft gasp as his jaws stretch, engulfing her head first. Her thick neck and broad shoulders squish inward with little resistance—she’s so soft, so bloated, and she’s already halfway sliding down his throat without much effort on his part.
''[[GLLLRK. GLLLPPP.->T4-A1]]''
The bartender, smiling like he’s just witnessed history, steps forward. Gently, reverently, he places a single white napkin atop the crest of her belly like a flag on a conquered mountain.
The tavern erupts in applause.
Astoria basks in it. She runs a paw along the top of her gut, watching it jiggle in waves. Her arms are too thick to reach all the way around. She’s pinned in place by her own glorious weight, her curves spilling off the bench and her ass squeezing against the legs of nearby chairs. She looks less like an adventurer and more like a queen of gluttony, lounging atop her mountainous middle like it’s a throne.
She exhales softly, eyelids fluttering. “Mmf… joining the guild can wait... maybe after dessert.”
Someone slides a plate of pastries onto her belly. She grins, barely able to lift her paw, and starts reaching for another bite.
Astoria ignored flirtation, refused distraction, and ascended to true bloat queen status. Now worshipped by taverngoers and buried in fluff, her dream of adventuring may be paused—but she’s found a whole new kind of fame.
<<include "GO">>Astoria’s belly sloshes as she leans back, giving the drunk anthro wolf her most sultry smile yet. Her thighs squeeze together with a wet-sounding shff, thick and heavy, while her gut gurgles in anticipation—round, taut, and just hungry enough.
“You know,” she purrs, running a paw down her middle, “you’re so forward... that's kinda cute...”
She lets the tip of her tongue flick across her lips. Her amber eyes lock onto his with a predator’s glint.
“I wonder how confident you’d be...” she leans forward, belly squishing into the table, “inside me.”
The wolf blinks, confused, swaying slightly. “Wait—what?”
But she’s already rising, thick arms pushing against the bench as her mountainous middle slorrrshes outward. Plates clatter to the floor. Her top stretches over her bust, the front barely holding together. Every curve bounces as she closes in.
“You offered bellyrubs,” she coos. “I’m giving you a permanent chance to get reaaal familiar with it.”
Before he can react, she opens wide—comically wide—and grabs his shoulders. His eyes go wide, paws flailing.
“W-WAIT—!”
''[[GLK->T5-C1]]
Her heavy breasts squish inward as he gulps again, and her massive, sloshing gut presses forward, twice as wide as his own but just as eager to be devoured. It takes time. His throat bulges, then stretches, then pulses as the mountain of foxfat vanishes gulp by gulp.
Her hips are last—plump, soft, bouncy—but the wolf doesn’t slow down. He groans around her thighs, eyes rolling back, tail wagging furiously as her jiggly ass slides into his gullet.
The wolf stumbles back into the now-silent tavern, his gut groaning and swaying in front of him like a prize-winning pumpkin. It’s massive—easily twice his own size—round, sloshing, and wildly active. Every step he takes is met with a deep GLORP, his belly squirming and wobbling from the fox-shaped bundle stuffed inside.
He groans, arms wrapped lovingly around the slick, fur-stretched dome. “Ughh... so heavy... You weren’t kidding about being a handful, Astoria.”
From inside, there's a sudden lurch—a violent thrash of wide hips, thick thighs, and frantic squirming curves. His belly bulges in odd angles, one paw-shaped imprint pressing outward near his ribs. Muffled, breathless sounds echo from within:
“MMHHHHFFF!!?! M-MMRRMMMPH!!”
He chuckles, shifting his stance as her tail squirms against his side.
“Aww, what's wrong? Big bad adventurer muffled by her own belly? Poor thing.”
He leans back against a post and gives his gut a firm pat, eliciting a wet SLLLORRRSH and another frantic push from within. The heat inside is sweltering, the air thick with digestive fumes, and the stomach walls now clench slowly, like warm dough pressing in from all sides.
The wolf traces slow circles over the dome, smiling lazily. “You know, you were delicious. All that fluff, all that attitude... now you're just meat soaking in my belly.”
The shape of her form begins to soften—curves losing definition, paws no longer pressing quite so hard. Her struggles are slowing.
GRRRRLLLBBBB... BLOORRRRP.
He shudders and lets out a long, low belch that echoes through the tavern.
''[[BUUUAAAAAAARRP—!->T5-A]]''His head disappears into her maw. His ears twitch against her palate as she moans softly around him, already savoring the taste. Her cheeks bulge, and her throat stretches as she gulp-gulp-gulps him down. His upper body slides easily, the warmth of her gullet hugging tight around him.
//SHLRRK. GLRRRK.//
She tilts back, savoring the descent. Her belly balloons out fast, each gulp sending another chunk of wolf into the churning gut. His legs kick feebly as his thick thighs vanish past her lips, and then—//pop//—his tail’s gone.
Astoria belches, paw on her throat, as her belly surges outward, swelling like rising dough. Round, packed, and sloshing full of struggling prey, it thuds to the floor with a juicy //BLOORP//.
Inside, the wolf squirms. “MmmHHMMFFF—!!”
She lets out a heavy, satisfied breath, rubbing the apex of her dome. Her thighs squeeze together under the table, breasts resting atop her belly like royal pillows as the squirming slowed down.
“Giving up already?,” she teases. “If you squirmed a little longer I might’ve let you out.”
storia scoots back in her seat, the bench creaking dangerously under her new weight. Her ass has widened, hips flaring with the added bulk of her meal.
//GRRRRRLLOP... SLRRSH...//
She pats the top of it with both paws, cheeks flushed and tongue slipping out again. “Mmm~ so much better like this”
The crowd in the tavern is dead silent. No one dares move. Astoria leans into her meal, belly gurgling as the digestion begins—deep and low, the kind of churn that means she’s in no rush to let anything escape.
She lets out a slow, throaty BURP, lips curled into a smug smirk. A torn piece of his tunic lands on her belly with a wet slap.
The tavern has gone eerily quiet. All eyes are on Astoria—the once-flirty, now unstoppably stuffed fox girl with a belly already round and sloshy from swallowing the drunken anthro wolf. Her gut wobbles in front of her, kicking, stretching, creaking with fullness. But she’s not done.
Not even close.
She licks her lips slowly, letting her eyes scan the room. A nervous-looking barmaid backs away, a portly bard drops his lute, and a group of adventurers stiffen in their seats.
Astoria stands—barely. Her thighs are thick enough to squish together like dough, and her belly brushes the floor. She gives it a loving pat, then licks her lips again with a feral grin.
“Mmm~ still hungry.”
Then she pounces.
The first to go is the barmaid. Astoria wraps her arms around her midsection and opens wide—GLLLRK—her head and shoulders vanish into her greedy throat in seconds. The barmaid’s legs kick weakly as her wide hips follow, and then her shoes vanish with a wet slurp.
Her gut bloats outward—now a squirming, howling mountain of prey, pressing into tables, tipping mugs.
Someone screams.
Too late.
The bard tries to run, but Astoria tackles him with surprising speed for her size. He’s swallowed faster, a soft-bodied meal with no resistance. His panicked wails become muffled inside her gut as it heaves and swells, rising higher and spilling out to either side of her knees.
“Keep struggling,” she moans, rubbing the bloated orb of her belly, “it feels sooo good...”
An adventuring party tries to fight back—one even draws a blade—but Astoria’s belly swings like a wrecking ball. THUD! One gets pinned against a table, another goes down under her massive tail.
She grabs the leader by the collar and hoists him overhead, his boots kicking in the air.
“Ever been eaten by a real adventurer?” she taunts.
''[[GLRK! GULP! GULP!->T6-C1]]''
A shredded piece of Astoria’s top sails out with it, landing on the floor with a wet plop. A scrap of purple cloth—one of her panties—follows a moment later, still steaming.
“Whoops,” he laughs, rubbing over the peak of his belly, which now sloshes with a creamy, sluggish weight. “Guess your outfit didn’t make it either.”
Inside, the final sounds are soft. Gurgles. Moans. A faint, sticky blorp as her form melts down completely—no more fox, no more fluff—just thick soup sloshing gently inside his shrinking gut.
He sighs deeply, letting his belly settle into a round, plush shape. Still large, still warm, but no longer fighting back. Just another meal, properly digested.
The wolf finally makes his way upstairs, groaning softly with each step as his softened, heavy gut sloshes and burbles. By the time he reaches the room, Astoria is nothing more than rich padding—her curves no longer thrashing inside his belly, but pressing out from his sides, thighs, and most notably...
His ass.
He turns to glance at a nearby mirror—and nearly double-takes.
“Whoa…” he mutters, ears perking up.
His ass is massive now. Two thick, jiggling globes of foxfat strain the back of his pants—if he’s even still wearing them. Round, soft, and impossibly plush, each cheek wobbles like overfilled pudding with the slightest shift of his hips. The fabric creaks, hugging tight across his new curves, seams visibly straining.
He spins, admiring the way his tail now rests higher, almost nestled between the plush mounds. His hips are wider. Thicker. And every step now comes with a bounce.
“Heh... damn, Astoria,” he murmurs, giving his rear a slow, playful smack. A deep THWUMP echoes through the room as his cheek ripples for several long seconds. “Best meal I've ever had...”
He runs a paw over one thick thigh, then up over the curve of his new weighty backside, grinning smugly. “Best meal I’ve ever had. You really knew how to stick around.”
The room smells faintly of spice and steam—lingering proof of her passage—and his belly, while smaller now, gives a soft bloop of satisfaction.
He stretches, casually working the stiffness from his arms, then turns back to the mirror and gives himself a wink.
<<include "GO">>
The moment Astoria steps into the dim, narrow alleyway, the sounds of the busy market fade into muffled murmurs. The cool shade is a welcome break from the heat—but her belly gurgles noisily in protest, still sloshing from everything she scarfed down.
She waddles a few steps further, one paw bracing the heavy swell of her gut. It sticks out in front of her like a sloshy, overfilled waterbed—taut, tight, and heaving with digestion. Her hips sway with every motion, thick thighs squeezing together in her too-tight pants.
“Mmf... so much food... I swear the free samples in this town are a trap,” she pants, smirking to herself.
That’s when she hears it.
A soft voice from the shadows: “Well well... what do we have here?”
Astoria turns—or more like waddles around slowly—just in time to spot her: a sleek, sultry dark elf girl leaning against the brick wall, arms folded, a wicked grin tugging at her violet-painted lips.
“Looks like someone wandered into the wrong alley,” the elf purrs, glancing down at the massive orb of Astoria’s belly. “You’re stuffed... slow... and I’m guessing you’ve got something worth taking.”
Astoria narrows her eyes. “I’m just passing through. I’m not looking for trouble.”
The dark elf steps closer, sauntering with deliberate, teasing steps. “You don’t have to look for it. It found you.”
She holds out a hand. “Coin purse. Now.”
Astoria sighs and reaches into her side pouch, then tosses the bag toward the elf’s feet with a clink of generous weight. “There. Paid. Satisfied?”
The elf picks it up, weighing it in her palm—eyebrows lifting. “Ooooh~ you’re actually carrying cash. Didn’t peg you for a rich girl with a glutton’s gut.”
She purrs and takes a slow step closer. “But here’s the thing... now that I’ve seen you up close?” Her eyes linger on Astoria’s belly. Her hips. Her chest rising with breath. “I think I want more than your money.”
Astoria blinks. “Excuse me?”
The elf licks her lips. Her hands trail across the side of Astoria’s belly—pressing, teasing, worshipping—as her grin widens.
“You paid,” she whispers. “Now let me tip you... into my gut.”
[[-Blush, she's very persuasive...->M3-B]]
[[-Swallow her instead!->M3-A]]
Coins jingle in her paw as she pushes off the bench, her belly sloshing ominously beneath her stretched tunic. Every vendor beams as she approaches, and Astoria—too polite, too stuffed, and frankly too curious—keeps opening her pouch, again and again.
One hot meat bun.
Three skewers.
A bowl of curry with fried rice.
Sugared melon slices, handed over with a wink.
A family-sized cheese wheel—on sale, how could she say no?
With each bite, her belly grows.
By the third stall, it crests her thighs like a soft, doughy hill.
By the sixth, it forces her to waddle sideways to fit between stalls.
By the tenth, she has to rest against a stack of crates, panting.
“Just… need a break,” she gasps, cheeks flushed, belly taut and noisy with glurps and gurgles.
Her tail droops. Her tunic is knotted under her breasts now, the fabric no longer able to stretch around the swell. She can’t see her feet anymore. Her pants have long since given up, ripped at the sides, clinging to her like a suggestion rather than clothing.
And still, she eats.
Vendors, delighted by her dedication, keep offering samples—she buys what she can, wanting to be polite, even when her paws tremble from the effort of holding food up to her mouth. By the time she sucks down the last of a citrus fizz float and licks her sticky fingers clean, she opens her pouch for the next round—
And finds it empty.
She stares at it in disbelief, belly rumbling with thick, wet groans beneath her.
“…Oh.”
It hits her all at once. She’s massive. Sweating. Barely mobile. And broke.
She leans against a wooden stall post, her belly resting heavily on her knees, hanging between her spread thighs. Her breathing is shallow, her lips slightly parted.
“Okay... that might’ve been... a bit much.”
Her stomach churns and pops, a noisy gurgle rising up her throat.
HOOOOUUUUURRRP.
She slaps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. Passersby glance over. Some smirk. One claps.
Mortified and beyond stuffed, Astoria wipes her lips and groans. Her body is hot and bloated, thighs stuck together from sweat, belly jostling with every twitch.
She can't stay here. She needs to decide what to do now before someone offers her a fifth dessert she can't afford... unless...
[[-Rest on a quiet alleyway. After this gluttonous marathon she could use a breather to digest it all before coming back for more!->M3-C]]
[[-Leave the market and head to the stables. Astoria is too heavy to walk much further, she could use a mount.->Stables]]
[[-Steal even more food, Astoria may be broke now but she's not quite full yet!->M3-M]]Astoria’s eyes narrow, her blush fading into a smirk.
“You’re right,” she murmurs, slowly raising a hand to her belly, “I am full. Sluggish. Soft...”
The dark elf’s grin grows—until Astoria adds, “But I’m still the bigger predator.”
Before the thief can react, Astoria lunges.
The elf lets out a startled gasp, but she’s already caught—Astoria's jaws stretching unnaturally wide, her maw slick and hungry. With a powerful tug, she drags the smaller woman in up to her shoulders, ignoring the way her overstuffed gut protests with every greedy gulp.
“M-Mmmph! H-HEY—!” the thief squirms, kicking as her arms are pinned against her sides, sliding deeper and deeper down Astoria’s throat. Her sultry confidence shatters into panic.
“Not so smug now, huh?” Astoria mumbles around her meal, cheeks puffed as she shovels the rest in, inch by inch.
Glk... glk... GLLLP!
The elf's hips vanish last, twitching between Astoria’s lips before she slurps them down with a final, victorious gulp. Her throat bulges obscenely with each swallow, and her stomach—which was already huge from earlier—stretches even more, swelling outward as the wriggling thief drops inside.
Astoria staggers back a step, then another, until her back hits the alley wall. Her belly is monstrous now: a round, bloated dome that shifts and squirms wildly with the dark elf’s movements.
She lets out a belch so wet and deep it echoes off the alley walls.
“Buurrrap—ooof, stars above...” she groans, sliding down to sit, cradling her gurgling, overloaded stomach. “You taste like perfume and bad decisions...”
From inside, the elf thrashes weakly. “Y-You... you little glutton!”
Astoria giggles, her paw tracing soft circles over the tight skin. “You started it.”
Her gut growls ominously, then louder—glorrrrblrlrp—as the digestion kicks in. The elf’s squirming becomes more frantic, but it’s no use. Astoria’s belly starts to compress and churn, juices flooding in, melting the squishy prey within.
“Don’t worry,” she murmurs, voice low and sultry. “I’ll put every bit of you to good use.”
Already, her hips widen a touch. Her chest bounces with a little more weight. And her belly—still packed and round—gurgles with hunger for more.
Astoria lounges in the shaded alleyway, her back resting against the cool bricks as her gut roils noisily in front of her. The dark elf thief is still squirming inside, though her movements are weaker now—erratic, sluggish, like someone trying to swim in syrup.
''[[Glorp... chhhhrrrrrrrn... slllk.->M4-A]]''
The alley is quiet now, save for the faint burble of distant street sounds and the noisy, rhythmic gurgling of the elf’s massively distended belly.
She leans against the brick wall, her back arched, both hands stroking the struggling mound with adoration. Astoria squirms inside, each movement sending ripples across the thief’s taut gut, which groans and glorp-blorps like an overworked cauldron.
“Mmf... so squirmy,” the elf moans, licking a smear of fox-fur taste from her lips. “Keep moving like that and I might actually climax before you melt.”
She presses into her own middle, fingers digging just slightly, feeling the outline of Astoria’s curled form shifting within the tightening confines. The fox girl is curled awkwardly, her sloshing belly now just another part of the prey mass. Muffled groans escape from within—half complaints, half resignation—as the digestive pressure grows hotter, heavier.
The elf grins. “You adventuring types always taste best. Full of food, full of dreams… not so full of common sense.”
GLORP.
A loud belch escapes her lips as a wave of gas bubbles up from below. The alley echoes with it, and she sighs, euphoric. “Oof, worth it.”
Inside, Astoria’s wriggling slows. The air is thick and humid, saturated with stomach juices that hiss and gurgle louder with every passing second. Her fur mats. Her limbs go numb. Her body sloshes as the elf’s gut kneads and squeezes, treating her less like a person and more like the next course.
Another lurch. Another gurgle. Bones begin to soften.
Outside, the dark elf shudders as her belly shrinks ever-so-slightly, sloshing lower and rounder. Her thighs thicken. Her hips spread. Her top strains across swelling breasts.
“Ohhh, yeah…” she purrs, eyes fluttering. “There you go... nice and melted.”
She slides down to sit on a crate, letting her digestion settle in like a warm blanket. Her belly still gurgles with contented rhythm, working Astoria down into nutrients, into curves, into pleasure.
By the time she waddles back out into the market, her belly is only half as large—but her ass jiggles with each step, and her hips sway heavier. She tosses Astoria’s discarded scarf into a bin with a smirk.
<<include "GO">>
Astoria waddles through the market like a ship drifting off course—her belly swaying side to side with each step, gut sloshing noisily beneath her stretched tunic. Her pants are long past repair, her thighs slick with sweat, and her coin pouch is pathetically light.
She glances at a cart piled with golden, honey-lacquered rolls.
Her belly rumbles. Loudly.
“No one’ll miss one…” she whispers.
She glances around—no one’s watching, right? She snatches a roll, stuffs it in her mouth, then another. The sweetness explodes on her tongue. She groans.
Then comes the voice.
“I do charge for those.”
Astoria freezes.
She turns.
Behind the cart stands a ridiculously curvy vendor girl—tall, thick in all the right places, with freckles dusting her soft tan cheeks and an apron barely containing her bouncing chest. One hand’s on her hip, the other already reaching for a fresh tray of baked goods.
Astoria gulps, cheeks puffed with half-chewed pastry. “I, uh—forgot my pouch?”
The vendor smirks. “That pouch’s emptier than your self-control.”
Before Astoria can protest, the vendor walks around the cart, grabs her by the arm—and without ceremony, opens her mouth wide and stuffs the fox girl’s head right in.
“MMPH! W-Wait—!”
But the vendor doesn't wait.
With practiced ease, she begins to swallow.
Her throat bulges with Astoria’s face, then her chest, then the heaving mass of her belly. It sloshes loudly as it's packed into the vendor’s gut, which starts to stretch outward, rounder, heavier with every messy glrrk!
Shoppers stroll by. A few glance over.
None stop her.
“Caught another one?” a fruit seller calls casually.
“Yup,” the vendor grunts around a mouthful of fox midsection. “Sticky paws.”
Astoria flails weakly, tail flicking, legs kicking—but it only sends wobbling ripples through the vendor’s already-immense belly. Her feet vanish last, slurped down with a lazy slorrrp and a final, throat-bulging gulp.
GLLRRRP.
FLOOMP.
The vendor sighs, rubbing her now-massive, stuffed belly as it sloshes and chrrrns beneath her apron. She groans and shifts her stance to keep upright—her gut hanging heavy, full of fox girl and stolen sweets.
“Mmph... every time,” she mutters. “They think they’re sneaky, but they’re just more padding waiting to happen.”
She turns back to her stall, still rubbing slow circles on her belly. From within, Astoria squirms—soft, muffled groans barely rising above the bubbling digestive symphony.
“Keep squirming, sweetheart,” the vendor murmurs with a smirk. “Gets the metabolism going.”
A couple approaches, eying the baked goods.
“Try a fresh roll,” the vendor says sweetly, leaning forward just enough to make her gut wobble. “Made ‘em myself.”
The woman blushes. The man stares.
[[GWULORP->M4-M]]
The vendor leans back against her cart, letting out a heavy, contented sigh as the last bit of Astoria’s squirming form finally settles deep in her belly. The squishy, muffled movements inside slow to a gentle slosh, the faintest trace of a tail flicking under the surface of her swollen gut.
She rubs her hands over her now huge belly, a soft glrrrp echoing from within, and smiles. There’s a satisfied glow in her cheeks as she feels the weight of Astoria’s body settle deep into her, making her stomach grow even more taut, more pronounced. Her once-curvy frame is now downright plush, the rounded fullness of her belly creating a soft dome that rises high above her waist, heavy and tight, like a well-baked loaf.
A few soft gasps of air leave her lips as she leans forward, her body wobbling with each movement. Her breasts, once modest beneath the apron, now strain in the absence of it, spilling over the top of her chest in full, plump curves. Her arms, thick and soft, rest against her swollen belly, gently massaging the bulging flesh as it churns with the sweet remnants of Astoria’s form.
“Mmm... you were a sweet one,” she hums to herself, her fingers tracing the soft curve of her belly. She shifts her stance again, feeling the way her hips sway with the added weight, and grins.
The soft gurgles and bubbly noises coming from inside her belly grow louder, and she presses a hand down gently, feeling the last faint squirm from Astoria, as if the little foxgirl is trying to shift around, but the motion quickly fades into a warm, settled peace. The vendor lets out a deep sigh, enjoying the sensation of being so full, so heavy, her body now thick and soft in places it never was before.
“Oh, you really did it this time...” she murmurs, her voice a lazy, satisfied drawl. Her belly gurgles again, and she pats it with a little chuckle. “I can already feel it... this is way more than I’ve sold in a week. Maybe two. And all it took was one little fox snack... and a lot of sweets.”
Her stomach growls loudly in agreement, and she rubs it in lazy, circular motions. The feeling of fullness, of being so stuffed and rounded, is like nothing she’s ever experienced before. She grins, feeling her hips widen just a little more, and she smirks at the satisfied jiggle of her thighs.
Her fingers dig into the soft, plush curve of her belly, and she gives it a little wiggle, watching it ripple gently beneath her touch. The heat of the day combined with her newly massive size sends a lazy warmth through her body, and she sways side to side, testing the weight of her new, overstuffed form.
A couple of customers stop and glance at her, their eyes widening at the sight of the vendor’s curves, swollen and heavy in ways that make her seem almost too full to stand. One of them clears their throat awkwardly, but the vendor just smiles, leaning on the cart with a playful wink.
“Care for a sample?” she teases, her belly giving another low gurgle in response. “Or perhaps... something more filling?”
Her fingers gently press into her gut again, and she gives a lazy stretch, letting out a soft, satisfied sigh. The vendor is completely content, a proud, indulgent grin spreading across her face as she walks back behind the cart. Her belly sloshes with each step, a subtle reminder of just how much she’s packed into herself.
“Mmm... a little more padding never hurt anyone,” she hums with a smug little smirk. And for a moment, she just stands there, eyes half-lidded, enjoying the way her body feels, as the weight of Astoria's form slowly settles into the deepest recesses of her stomach.
Then, with a stretch and another sigh of contentment, she glances at the remaining customers, ready to serve, her plump belly gleaming beneath the soft, sloshing sounds of her digestion.
“Next!”
<<include "GO">>
Astoria groans as she waddles down a narrow side street, slipping out of the suffocating market crowd. The cobblestones underfoot feel uneven, but she barely notices—her focus is on each step, each agonizing sloshing bounce of her bloated gut.
She rounds a corner, finds a little shaded nook between two shuttered storefronts, and collapses onto a crate with a heavy FLOOMP.
Her belly spills forward between her knees, heavy and taut, gurgling so loud it echoes off the alley walls. She leans back against the cool bricks, gasping, her tunic barely clinging to her underboob, her pants more suggestion than fabric at this point.
“Stars above... I can’t move... I ate a whole festival...” she moans.
Her coin pouch lies open and empty beside her. She picks it up and rattles it anyway—nothing but crumbs and regret. Her ears droop.
glorp... blooorrp... CHHRRRRRN
Her stomach is still going. Still working. Still sloshing like a cauldron. She gives it a soft rub, trying to soothe the pressure, but it only churns louder, greedier.
She doesn’t notice the soft steps echoing down the alley until they stop just in front of her.
“Well, well... what have we here?”
Astoria blinks.
A dark-skinned figure leans against the far wall—sleek frame, violet lipstick, silver jewelry catching the light. A dark elf girl, long white hair tied back, watching her with amused curiosity.
“Lost? Or just digesting?”
Astoria straightens slightly, wincing as her belly glorps. “Neither. Just... full.”
The elf strolls closer, heels tapping. She circles Astoria once, slowly, eyes drinking her in—especially her belly, which wobbles with every shallow breath.
“My gods, look at you...” she murmurs, voice low, sultry. “You’re massive. Like a wine barrel that got cursed with legs.”
Astoria scowls. “I’m not in the mood for insults.”
“Oh, I’m not insulting you,” the thief grins. “I’m admiring you.”
She crouches in front of Astoria, placing both hands on the sloshy curve of her gut. The fox girl gasps, trying to recoil—but she’s far too bloated to escape. Her belly just jiggles in protest.
The thief gives a low, aroused hum. “You’re soft... heavy... totally helpless. It's honestly obscene.”
Astoria stiffens. “L-Look, I don’t want trouble. I have no money, alright? I spent it all at the market.”
The elf freezes.
“No money?” she repeats. She stands slowly, pouting dramatically. “Tsk. That’s disappointing. And here I was about to rob you.”
She tilts her head, eyes narrowing.
“…Guess I’ll just take you instead.”
Before Astoria can even gasp, the elf opens her mouth wide—unnaturally wide—and lunges.
[[“Wait—!”->M4-C]]Too slow.
Astoria's upper body is swallowed in one greedy gulp. Her arms are pinned. Her belly sloshes as she’s hauled upward by surprisingly strong hands.
The thief's throat bulges comically with fox-flesh, her gut quickly ballooning out as Astoria's enormous middle is forced inside, inch by inch. She pants around her, gulping rhythmically, moaning with each messy glrk! and glk! as the meal vanishes into her.
Astoria kicks weakly. “T-this is robbery—!”
GLLRRP!
“Nope,” the thief manages between gulps. “Just devourment!”
The fox’s massive belly finally slides in with a slorrrrp, stretching the elf’s own gut into an obscene, wobbling globe that drags her to her knees.
The thief rests both hands on the mound, gasping, flushed, eyes glazed with arousal and hunger.
“You taste like sugar and shame,” she whispers.
From inside, Astoria groans, her squirming already slowing.
GLRRNCH... BLLORRRPP...
“You’re gonna melt so nicely.”
The alley is filled with wet, gurgling noise as the dark elf lays back, one hand on her belly, the other sliding between her thighs. She rocks with every churn and squish, eyes lidded.
Time slips by in the quiet alleyway.
The market’s noise fades to a distant hum, drowned out by the wet, glorping symphony rising from the dark elf’s bloated middle. Her belly is gargantuan now—round and trembling, swollen taut as a water barrel, its slick surface glistening with sweat.
It touches the ground, heavy and heaving with digestion.
The thief lies sprawled across a broken crate, one leg hooked lazily over the massive swell of her stomach. Her arms drape across the top, rising and falling with the groaning churn of a prey-packed gut. Her violet lipstick is smeared from the effort. Her breathing comes in soft, ragged pants.
[[HWOOARP->M5-C]]
“Mmf... fffuck...” she moans, rolling her hips slowly against the curve. “You were huge...”
The belly beneath her shifts. Sloshes. BLRRRRGH—a thick churn surges through it, and for a moment, the outline of Astoria’s face presses up against the skin from inside—cheeks puffed, eyes squinted, one ear flattened sideways.
The elf gasps and presses down instinctively with a hungry grunt, smothering the imprint beneath her hands.
“You’re still fighting? Even now?” she pants, grinning. “You stubborn, sexy fox...”
But Astoria’s movements are slow now. Sluggish. Her kicks are dull thumps lost beneath layers of fat and rising heat. Inside, the air is thick with acid mist, her fur matted and floating in bubbling sludge. Her soft frame is folding into it, her curves blending into the soupy mix of half-digested street food and stomach acids.
Another wet GLRRRCH rolls through the thief’s belly, and her gut shrinks just an inch. Then another. The fox girl’s outline begins to smear—becoming rounder, more indistinct.
The elf tilts her head back, shuddering.
“You’re making me gain weight just watching you melt.”
She shimmies her hips against the soft ground, sighing as her thighs begin to puff out with new plushness. Her corset groans in protest, and the silver ring at her navel strains as her belly tries to spread.
Another deep blorp makes her groan aloud.
“S-Stars above... I usually don’t eat adventurers this big...”
A gurgle builds.
A pressure rises.
BUUUOOOUUURRRAAAPPP—!!
The belch rips from her lips like a thunderclap, echoing down the alley. It rattles her jewelry. It carries the faintest trace of sugared pork and cheese fritters.
She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and pats her wobbling gut. “Hahhh... there you go, fox. That’s your last word.”
The belly now hangs low and soft—no longer taut with struggling prey, but plush, warm, and round. Sloshing contentedly with what remains of Astoria. The occasional bubble pushes against the surface before sinking again into the stew of melted curves and failed ambition.
The dark elf stretches with a moan, her entire form heavier, sweat-damp, satisfied.
“I swear,” she whispers, eyes fluttering, “I’m going to be waddling for a week after this…”
She smirks, then slowly rolls to her side, cradling the belly like a lover. Her hips jiggle with new weight. Her breasts press snug and round against the top of her gut.
<<include "GO">>The winding cobblestone path to the castle gate is lined with pristine hedges and stone statues—each one stoic, noble, regal...
...and now completely overshadowed by the slow, jiggling approach of one overstuffed, overplumped, and utterly unconcerned fox girl.
Astoria.
Her every step is a squish, a sway, a full-body wobble of thighs and belly and booty that defies physics and decorum alike. Her thick hips brush the hedges, her belly slaps softly against her thighs with every lumbering step, and her chest bounces like a pair of royal desserts barely held in by a strained and half-buttoned top.
She breathes heavily as she crests the final hill, her tail swishing with slow, lazy flicks behind her. Her gut sloshes—not just full, but massive, tight, heavy, and incredibly active. Her steps are slow, deliberate, more a waddle than a walk.
But eventually, she makes it.
The castle gate looms ahead, tall and gilded, flanked by polished stone towers and a small guard post.
And standing in front of the gate—spear in hand, expression trying very hard to stay neutral—is a young human woman in a crisp blue uniform.
The guard’s eyes flick straight to Astoria’s belly the moment she arrives. Then up to her wobbling bust. Then down again. Her lips part for a second—just a second—before she clamps her mouth shut, cheeks a little too pink to be professional.
“Halt,” she says, clearing her throat. “Uh—you can’t just waddle up to the castle like... that.”
Astoria raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“Like... you.” The guard fidgets, gripping her spear tighter. “The Adventurer’s Guild handles registrations inside, but we can’t let in anyone who looks like they’re about to knock down half the dining hall just by turning around.”
The fox girl smirks, one paw cradling her belly. She shifts her hips just enough to send a full-bodied ripple through her form, her rear jiggling with pride. The guard's eyes flicker. Fast. But not fast enough to hide.
“You sure?” Astoria purrs. “Seems like you’re enjoying the view.”
The guard stiffens, flustered. “Th-That’s not—! I mean—this isn’t about—!”
She clears her throat again, looking anywhere but at the bouncing, sweating, sensual fox woman in front of her.
“No entry without clearance. That’s final.”
[[-Pounce on the guard, she does look pretty distracted ->monch]]
[[-Seduce the guard to get into your belly->flirt]] "Alright," Astoria grumbles, rolling her shoulders. “Let’s try this your way.”
She shifts with a groan, her gut sloshing loudly as she braces herself against the opposite wall of her cell. Her paws spread, her bare, overfed belly dragging slightly on the cold stone floor. Each breath is a wheeze. Each movement sends waves through the towering dome of her gut.
The kobold watches from the neighboring cell, smirking.
“You sure about this?” he asks. “That wall’s solid.”
“I’ve eaten more than this wall’s worth of stone in roasted meat,” she growls, then charges.
—Well, waddles rapidly.
She throws her full weight forward, and with a thunderous, wet SMACK, her belly slams into the dividing wall like a sloshing wrecking ball.
CRRRAAAACK!
Dust rains from the ceiling. The wall trembles. She does it again.
And again.
On the third hit, the bricks crumble in a soft crash, and Astoria tumbles through the ruined divider—landing face-first in the kobold’s cell with a gasping, victorious moan.
“Oooof... ha! Told you I could—huff—smash it.”
She lies there, spread across the ground, her belly wobbling with residual momentum. Her arms splayed, her body slick with sweat. “So... where’s the weak floor?”
The kobold tilts his head.
“Oh,” he says, almost innocently. “That was on your side.”
Astoria blinks.
There’s a beat of silence.
Then she slowly lifts her head.
“You little—”
She doesn’t finish the sentence.
The kobold pounces.
His jaws stretch wide, and before she can roll away, he’s already swallowing—starting with her shoulders, which sink past his lips with a wet glrrrk! She struggles, tries to push herself up, but her own weight betrays her.
Her belly is still spilling across the floor when her arms vanish into the kobold’s throat.
“H-Hey—!” she gasps, voice muffled. “This wasn’t the deal!”
“Nope,” the kobold pants between gulps. “This is the meal.”
He shudders, slurping more of her down—her chest, her upper gut, her sloshing belly. It fights back, spreading wide, sloshing in defiance, but the kobold digs in, claws pressing into her sides, his body stretching to accommodate.
Her legs kick. Her tail flicks, desperate.
But inch by inch... she’s going in.
She’s never been prey before.
It’s humbling. Hot. Shamefully slow.
The kobold licks his lips, sweat on his brow, as the full weight of her overindulged stomach slides into his own expanding gut. His frame swells round and obscene, dragging against the dungeon stones as he consumes the fox girl in full.
Her hips go last—wide, plush, and defiant—but they vanish with a final slrrrp and a deep, reverberating GLLLRRRP.
Silence.
Then—
''[[BUUOORRRAAAAP!->D1]]
A belch that echoes through the dungeon, stained with the scent of roast duck and sugared bread.
The kobold slumps back, panting, paws spread wide over his massive, trembling belly. It squirms beneath him. Astoria’s outline barely visible beneath the stretch of his skin.
“Phew...” he groans. “That was... a lot.”
The belly shifts. Squelches. Gurgles.
Inside, Astoria squirms—halfheartedly. Her voice is muffled, weary. “You... liar...”
“Shhh,” he purrs, gently rubbing over the swell. “You were wasted on the guild anyway.”
He leans back, head against the stone, eyes fluttering closed as her weight begins to melt.
“I’ll make you into something better.”
//GLORRRRP... CHHRRRRN... BLOORRRGH...//
With each noise, her squirming slows.
Her body softens.
Her shape blurs.
The kobold's own frame thickens—hips puffing out, chest a little fuller, tail dragging heavier behind him.
He stretches, belly sloshing gloriously beneath him.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he whispers. “You made a great course.”
The morning sun breaks over the hills outside the ruined dungeon, warm light cutting through the mist like butter through bread.
From the shattered hole in the side of the keep—where once there was stone, now just a ragged gap—emerges the kobold.
He waddles forward with a heavy gait, his body drastically different than it was mere hours ago. His hips are wide, swaying with every slow step. His gut hangs low, soft and sloshing, bouncing against his thighs like a sack of pudding. His tail trails behind him, lazily curling from side to side as he adjusts to his new weight.
The remnants of his prison shackles clink limply at his wrists—too small now to be of use. His bare chest bounces with a new softness, and his thighs rub together with a plushness that makes his stride awkward, almost lewdly bouncy.
Astoria’s belt—once snug on her thick waist—now wraps across his hips like a trophy, taut and shiny with the stretch of recent gain.
He pats his belly proudly.
“Damn, fox,” he mutters, smirking to himself. “You really were all meat and magic.”
//GLOORRRP.//
The belly groans beneath his hand—still heavy, still digesting the final scraps of Astoria’s royal banquet binge. A belch rises in his throat, slow and satisfied.
//BUUURP—//
He wipes his mouth.
“Hope the guild wasn’t expecting much from you,” he chuckles. “But you definitely gave me an upgrade.”
As he waddles down the overgrown path leading away from the castle ruins, he pauses—gazes down at his swaying, wobbling form, curves jiggling with every movement.
He grins.
“I should find a new town.”
His belly sloshes.
His thighs clap.
His tail sways.
“Maybe find an even bigger lady...”
<<include "GO">>He goes down inch by inch, her neck bulging, throat rippling. His armor clangs as it’s swallowed whole. Her belly //GROOOAANS//, trying to make space as it expands even further—pushing chairs aside, cracking floorboards.
Soon, there’s no one left standing.
Only Astoria—massive, heaving, flushed and panting with her arms resting on a belly that looks more like a room-sized beanbag, rounded and sloshing with dozens of helpless patrons.
Inside, it’s chaos. Squirming bodies, muffled screams, and moans echo through her tight, squeezing gut.
“Y-you guys still kicking in there?” she teases. “Mmmh~ not for long.”
She leans back with a //SLOSH//, tail twitching happily.
The tavern floor creaks under Astoria’s weight.
Her belly is massive—absurd, in fact—stretching wall to wall, domed high and wide like a living hill of plush, squirming meat. Dozens of once-screaming patrons now churn inside the greedy fox girl’s gut, their movements slowed to panicked squirms and muted //MMMMMRRF!//s.
Astoria moans, sinking backward into the wobbling mass, her arms lazily rubbing over the squishy surface. Her tail flicks in satisfaction, the tip just barely peeking out from under the titanic swell of her body.
“Unghh... so many meals,” she breathes, licking a thin string of drool from her lips. “You’re all making such wonderful padding~”
Her stomach lets out a deep, rolling GRRRRGLRRRGHHHH, the first true sign that digestion has kicked into overdrive. The gut tenses, tightens, then sinks in slightly, causing a few chairs to topple and nearby plates to clatter as the weight redistributes.
Inside, muffled voices cry out—MMMFFF! PLE-MMMRGGH!—but one by one, they fall silent.
BLORP... GROOOAAAAN... SLRRSHHH.
The churn becomes rhythmic, a slow, sensual melting. Flesh turns to soup. Armor and boots clink and vanish beneath thick pools of digestion. Her belly starts to soften—not shrink, exactly, but settle. Rounded out. Heavy. Heavy.
She belches suddenly—BUOOOUUUUUURP!!—and out comes a half-shredded neckerchief and a single leather boot. They flop wetly onto the floor, steaming.
“Hnnngh~ You guys digest so easy,” she murmurs, giving her gut a firm SMACK.
The entire mass quivers. Wobbles. Sloshes.
And then then it begins.
Her belly, though still huge, starts to lift. The fat is redistributing, sliding down her frame like melted butter over a mountain. Her hips swell first—loudly, audibly. SHRRRPPP—PLOOMP! Her rear billows outward, each cheek growing heavier, meatier, rounder, until it practically envelops the bench beneath her.
Her thighs follow, puffing up into massive, plush pillars that spread wide to either side. Her inner thighs mash together like dough. Her tail gets swallowed between her growing ass cheeks, twitching in surrender.
Her arms dimple with new softness. Her breasts rise and swell, gaining heft and bounce as fox-fat surges into her chest. Her once-taut face now carries a soft, sensual roundness—cheeks slightly plumper, chin a little fuller.
She lets out a deep, gurgling moan, both paws gliding over her body—exploring every new curve with satisfaction.
“Unghhh... I’m gonna need a new outfit... and maybe a crane,” she giggles.
The tavern around her is wrecked. Tables broken. Plates shattered. All the patrons? Gone. Digested. Converted. Melted into curves and sloshing weight.
Her belly is still sizable, squishing under her chest like a thick, sloshy beanbag—but now her ass steals the spotlight. Two mountain-sized cheeks rise behind her like soft caramel hills, each bounce causing her gut to jiggle in response.
BLORRRRGH...
Another belch, smaller this time. A pair of goggles fly from her lips and land in her cleavage.
She pats her gut one more time, breathing heavy, then leans back with a fox’s smug smirk.
“Best tavern ever~”
<<include "GO">>Astoria pushes herself up from the tavern bench with a soft grunt, her plush thighs straining as she tries to balance her weight. Plates clatter and a few crumbs tumble from her belly as she straightens, her arms instinctively cradling the warm swell of her gut. She’s heavy. Not just full—but sluggish, sloshy, and round in all the right ways.
She doesn’t say a word to the drunk anthro wolf still watching her from the bar, his dreamy, intoxicated stare locked on the way her hips sway like thunderclouds when she turns toward the door. She just rolls her eyes, burps softly, and waddles out into the sunlight.
[[later->Stables]]Astoria moans softly, a paw draped over the crest of her sloshing belly, fingertips pressing into the taut surface. “Mmph... you were mouthy going down, but you make a wonderful stew.”
Inside, the thief groans. “Ugh... y-you bloated cow! Let me out!”
That only makes Astoria giggle. “Oh, sweetie. That’s not how this works.”
She gives her belly a playful bounce, sending ripples through the thick gut. The elf lets out a startled yelp—then a wet blrrrggg as the stomach folds around her tighter. Acid bubbles and steams all around her, skin tingling, fur matting, her limbs growing heavy and numb.
Outside, Astoria stretches luxuriously, tail flicking as she watches her middle wobble and churn. The outlines of her prey are softening—arms now just shifting masses, legs kicking feebly before melting into the bubbling stew of her gut.
“You’re already adding inches,” Astoria hums, licking her lips as she rubs herself down. “Can’t wait to see where you end up... hips? Tits? Ooooh, maybe both.”
Another thunderous glorrrrrp rolls out from deep within her, followed by a lewd, belly-deep belch.
BUUUORRRAAARP!
“Fffuuuh... there goes your ego,” she sighs, flushed and grinning.
As the digestion settles into a steady, wet rhythm, her body begins to change. Her gut softens and drops lower, sloshing more than it squirms. Her hips widen with a plush, swaying weight. Her chest lifts heavier on her frame, her clothes tugging tight across the new curves.
Astoria finally hauls herself upright with a grunt, patting the sagging dome that still gurgles faintly.
“Whew. That’s enough back-alley drama for one day,” she says, tail swaying behind her as she waddles toward the alley’s exit. “No way I’m walking through town like this. Gonna need a ride if I wanna keep going…”
She rubs her belly one more time, smirking down at it as it sloshes and churns. “Guess I better head to the stables.”
[[-Head to the stables->Stables]]Astoria’s smile drops.
That tone. That smirk. The subtle way the stable girl tilted her head, clearly enjoying the sight of Astoria’s helpless, stuffed frame while dangling access to a ride in front of her—like a carrot over a pig.
Big mistake.
“You really wanna talk to a girl this bloated without offering her a seat?” Astoria huffs.
The stable girl blinks. “...Huh?”
Before she can take a step back, Astoria surges forward—not quickly, more like a rolling tide of fur and belly—her mouth yawning wide with a predatory gleam in her eyes. The stablehand stumbles back with a yelp, but there’s no escaping once Astoria’s maw finds her shoulders.
“W-Wait—HEY!”
She barely has time to flail before she's halfway in, her thick body sinking between Astoria’s jaws like butter into warm bread. Her freckled cheeks squish up against Astoria’s tongue, and her chest—those plush, jiggling things she was so smug about—barely slow Astoria down. They squelch between her lips with a glk, followed by the wet sound of gulping as her belly rounds out further.
“MMRRF—You can’t—glrrrk—do this!”
Astoria just groans around the girl's soft form, tipping her head back. Her paws cradle the stablehand's hips as they kick and wiggle—an extra thicc struggle that only makes Astoria’s belly gurgle louder in delight.
The stableyard goes eerily quiet. A few horses glance over lazily. A rake clatters to the ground in the distance.
With another greedy slllrrrp, the girl's gut disappears past Astoria’s lips, her thighs squishing together on the way in. Then her knees. Then calves. A final, useless kick—and with one last glrrrglk—
GULP.
Astoria stumbles back a step, arms flailing, her belly now impossibly round—taut and straining, wobbling in every direction. Her furred gut juts out before her like she’s smuggling a waterbed. A heavy FLOOMP hits the ground as she drops to her knees, moaning in blissful, overfed exhaustion.
“Uuuuughhh... That’s... more like it.”
She groans as her belly sloshes beneath her, gurgling greedily around the thrashing form within. The stablehand’s muffled voice rises up through the tight-packed mass of belly fat and churning pressure.
“MMPHH! You—BURRP—you’re crazy!”
Astoria flops back against a hay bale, one paw rubbing her belly in lazy, indulgent circles. The stablehand’s struggles only make her more relaxed, like a full-body massage from the inside. Her breasts rest atop the swell of her belly like plush cushions, rising and falling with every soft, churning breath.
“Oh shhh...” Astoria coos. “You were practically asking for it, standing there all smug… nghh, unf—so warm in there...”
Her belly lets out a monstrous CHHRRRRGLL, followed by a series of smaller blorps and a single, soggy slosh as the stable girl’s motion slows—trapped in a gurgling vat of digestion-in-progress.
Astoria lay there for a long moment, panting, one paw spread over the crest of her swollen gut. The stablehand inside had stopped struggling minutes ago, reduced to soft, bubbling weight that churned lazily under Astoria’s fur. Her belly had changed too—still massive, still warm and wobbling with every breath—but now softer, heavier, spreading outward instead of jutting forward. A rich, cozy blorp rose from the depths as the last solid bits turned to sludge.
“Whew…” she groaned, dragging herself upright, her thighs squishing together under the sheer weight of her digestion. “That girl went straight to the hips.”
She gave her belly a hearty slap, the impact sending a slow ripple across her soft gut and into the plush curve of her rear. Her breasts sat heavier too, jostling slightly as she gathered herself, face flushed, muzzle sticky with sweat and satisfaction.
The nearby horse—tall, broad, and male, his chestnut coat gleaming in the sun—stood watching her, tail flicking once. His eyes dipped to her wobbling middle.
Astoria smirked, flicking her own tail. “You’re not judging, are you? I needed a ride.”
It took three tries and more than a little groaning, but she managed to haul her belly up with her, one paw gripping the saddle horn as she heaved her curves into place. The horse braced instinctively—hooves planting wide—while Astoria settled in, gut draping over the sides of the saddle like a warm, plush blanket.
“Ughhh, sorry, buddy…” she wheezed, her entire body jostling as she bounced slightly into position. “You ever carried a foxgirl and her latest meal?”
Her belly sloshed with a deep, satisfied glrrrnk, now slightly lower, softening, spreading out against the saddle and her own thighs like rising dough. With every step the horse took, her gut quivered—a half-melted ball of ex-stablehand gurgling pleasantly as it was gently rocked by motion.
''[[Chrrrnnngglk->SV1]]
Astoria waddled past the stable gate, giving a performative sigh and rubbing her empty coin pouch loud enough for the stablehand to hear.
“Guess I’ll just go… walk to the castle,” she grumbled dramatically.
The stablehand glanced up, shrugged, and went back to brushing her horse.
Astoria grinned.
She waited a few more seconds, until the girl had turned her back—then slipped behind the outer stalls and followed the smell of oats and fresh hay.
There, in a shaded corner of the barn, stood him.
Tall. Strong. Broad-shouldered for a horse. The same chestnut stallion she’d seen earlier, tied off casually and chewing on a mouthful of straw. He looked at her with wide, curious eyes—and his nostrils flared when they caught the lingering scent of her massive belly.
“Heeey, handsome,” Astoria whispered, pulling a whole bale of hay off a cart nearby. “You look like you could use a little bulking up.”
She shoved it toward him with a grin.
The stallion didn’t hesitate. He devoured the hay like a vacuum, mouth working greedily. Astoria grabbed more. And more. Each bite seemed to do something—his flanks rounded subtly, his chest broadened, and that once-muscular rear? It started to swell. Slowly at first, but with every mouthful, his thighs thickened, his rump puffed, and his belly began to hang slightly lower beneath him.
“Attaboy,” she cooed, eyes gleaming. “Need you nice and fat if you’re gonna carry all this.”
She smacked her own wide hips, belly still soft from previous prey.
Suddenly—
“HEY!”
Astoria froze mid-toss.
Two other stablehands rounded the corner, eyes widening at the sight: one horse, massive and still growing fatter by the second, and one greedy fox girl with hay-stuffed arms and an all-too-guilty look on her face.
“Where’s Marla?!” one barked.
Astoria blinked innocently. “Uh... break time?”
The stallion’s eyes locked on the newcomers. His belly groaned. His tail flicked.
Then, with an eager SNAP, he lunged forward—mouth wide—and chomped down on the first stablehand.
“Wha—NO—!”
Astoria watched, stunned, as the mare was yanked from the ground in a flurry of hooves and muffled shouts. The horse's throat bulged obscenely as he swallowed her down in several messy, wet gulps—glrrrk, glrp, GLLRP—until her boots vanished with a final juicy slrrp.
The second stablehand shrieked, backing up, only to trip and fall straight into Astoria’s arms.
“Whoops,” the fox girl purred. “Guess you’re mine, huh?”
“W-Wait—!”
''[[GULP.->SR1]]
“Mmm,” Astoria sighed, one paw resting protectively on her belly. “Yeah… she’s soup now.”
The horse plodded forward, slow and steady. For a moment, it almost felt peaceful—just the warm sun, the rhythmic sway of her softened gut, the lazy roll of the saddle under her padded rear…
Then the horse stopped.
Astoria blinked. “Uh... buddy?”
The horse didn’t move.
Instead, she felt a shiver pass up its spine.
Then it turned its head slightly, eyeing her—and her belly.
Astoria grunted, adjusting her wobbling gut atop the saddle as the horse refused to move. “What’s the holdup?” she muttered, swaying slightly. “C’mon, don’t make me get off. I just digested a whole girl.”
Then she felt it.
A hot, wet tongue—long and surprisingly deliberate—drag up her back.
“Whuh—?”
Before she could react, the stallion’s head craned around, muzzle nudging beneath her arms, then up. Another thick lick followed, sliding beneath the straining band of her top.
Rrrrriiiip.
The fabric finally gave out.
Her massive breasts FWOMPED free, slapping against her gut with a wobbling impact that made the horse grunt beneath her. Each orb was ridiculously plush—heavy, round, and still glistening from sweat and leftover sugar. They bounced once… then twice… before settling like twin dough balls atop her belly.
“HEY! H-Hey!” Astoria gasped, grabbing at them instinctively—but it was already too late.
The stallion opened his mouth wide and shoved his muzzle against her chest, slurping one breast inside with a hungry grunt. His tongue coiled, wrapping around the soft weight and pulling it in, inch by inch, as Astoria’s eyes went wide.
“Oh—nnghh! H-hey now! You’re—ooohh—this isn’t how this was supposed to—glrrrk!”
The horse didn’t stop.
With a flex of his powerful neck, he dragged her forward, mouth stretching to accommodate both her wobbling tits—and then her shoulders. Astoria kicked uselessly, paws flailing at the saddle horn as the stallion gulped.
GLRRRRNK!
Her upper body slid down his gullet, her face squished between two tightly clenched walls of throat-muscle, hot and slick. Her voice echoed from within—muffled and frantic, but unmistakably aroused.
“Nnngh—this is... not fairrrrMMMPH!”
Her belly slapped against his neck, momentarily catching on the width of his throat. She wriggled, gut swaying with heavy sloshes, breasts wedged just beneath her chin as she tried to brace herself. But her sloshing bulk only excited him more.
With another deep, juicy GLLRP, the horse's throat bulged wide, and her belly began to slide in.
The sounds were obscene—schllrrk, glrrrp, slrrrmp—as her massive gut compressed, folding in on itself, sloshing and churning as it was greedily gulped. Her paws disappeared next, toes curling as she was devoured inch by inch.
Her hips gave a final, valiant wiggle before being slurped down, thick tail curling upward as if waving goodbye.
SLORRRRP.
With one last lazy gulp, her legs vanished into the stallion’s gullet.
Then silence.
For a moment.
Then—
''[[BWOMP.->SV2]]
The horse’s belly dropped to the ground like a boulder made of pudding. It hit with a wet, heavy thud, jiggling from side to side. Astoria was still very active inside—her thick form shifting, sloshing, groaning and squirming as the horse’s digestive system went to work.
His flanks twitched.
Inside, Astoria moaned, muffled and dizzy, as the walls began to tighten around her.
Glrrrgl—bloop—chrrrn.
She wriggled one last time.
And the horse… simply let out a soft, satisfied snort.
The stallion stood there for a long moment, legs spread wide, his swollen belly resting heavy in the dirt like an overfilled water balloon. Astoria’s form still shifted within, sluggishly now—reduced to gurgling, moaning squirming, her curves melting into the sloshing stew brewing inside his gut.
Chrrrngk... slorp... glrk.
Each wet churn was louder than the last, bubbling through his middle as her mass liquefied. His breathing slowed. His nostrils flared. And then—it began.
It started with his flanks.
Once lean and muscular, they thickened visibly—inch by inch—plumping outward as if puffed up by invisible air. But it wasn’t air—it was weight. Foxgirl weight. Astoria’s bubbling form turned to padding, sinking into the horse’s frame with every deep gurgle.
His barrel grew rounder, softer. The once-proud outline of his ribs vanished beneath a thickening coat of fat. His chest, once powerful and lean, now jiggled with each breath. Even his neck thickened—stronger, sure, but also softer. Softer everywhere.
BLORRP.
His thighs ballooned outward, dense and doughy now, brushing against each other as he shifted. Each hoofstep squished into the earth, sunk slightly deeper. Muscles hidden under soft, jiggling new layers of plush.
And then came the rear.
With a juicy fwump, his ass rippled once… then again, like dough slapping a cutting board. It began to swell—cheeks thickening into proud, rounded globes of fat. Each step made them wobble, one lagging half a second behind the other in a slow, heavy jiggle. They were massive now. Astoria’s essence spreading directly into his hindquarters, padding him with the best kind of fat.
His tail flicked, clearly pleased.
BLOORP.
His belly sagged even more—no longer tight with squirming prey, but soft and plush, dragging along the dirt like an udder. It squelched faintly with every movement, the sound of fox-girl slurry echoed from the inside.
He gave a proud, puffing snort—head high, body heaving with Astoria-fueled girth.
His entire body jiggled slightly from the motion, like a dessert left out too long in the sun.
Astoria was still there, of course—her spirit, her weight, her indulgence—just… redistributed. Across broad thighs, thickened shoulders, a belly that drooped like honey over hooves, and a butt that could probably squash a milk cart.
The horse took one slow, thudding step forward.
Then another.
A slosh. A wobble. A full-body ripple of luxurious fat.
And then silence—except for one last, drawn-out glrrrrk from deep within his belly.
Astoria, at long last, had finished melting.
<<include "GO">>Astoria stuffed the girl head-first into her maw and began swallowing with practiced ease, her own belly ballooning again, stretching wide, plush and heavy as her meal slid inside. Her gut gurgled gleefully, recognizing the familiar job.
Across from her, the horse gulped down the final girl in his sights, slurping her up tail-first with a snort of satisfaction. The stable fell quiet again—except for the slorp, blorp, and chrrrrn of digestion echoing from two overstuffed bellies.
Astoria plopped onto her rear, gasping, her gut wobbling and sloshing.
The horse mirrored her, sitting awkwardly on his side, his own massive belly drooping like a water balloon across the straw-covered ground. It squirmed—not violently, just enough to show that those inside were still putting up a slow, stewy protest.
She crawled over, paw resting on his warm side.
“Look at you,” she said, breathy, eyes sparkling. “You’re… gorgeous.”
The horse nickered softly, nosing her ear.
Both their bellies let out long, rolling chrrrgllllks as they digested in tandem.
And then—nothing.
Just a warm stable.
Two gluttonous bodies, side by side.
Their bellies shifting, squirming, shrinking little by little, replaced by thickening thighs, broader hips, and softer, heavier rears.
Astoria sighed, nestling against his pillowy flank.
“This,” she muttered, eyes half-lidded, “is the life.”
The field was quiet, save for the buzz of lazy insects and the distant rustling of trees swaying in the afternoon breeze.
In the middle of it, sprawled across the grass like two dropped scoops of honey-glazed pudding, were Astoria and her equally overfed equine partner.
Astoria lay on her back, completely bare, arms sprawled above her head, tongue lolling from the corner of her muzzle. Her belly—massive, soft, and deeply sloshing—rose high above her, like a hill of plush dough that gently quivered with every breath. It had grown past any reasonable size—massive even by her own greedy standards—spreading wide on either side of her like a sleeping bag made of pudding.
Her hips were beyond wide now, thickened by the stew of stable girls stewing in her gut. Each thigh was the size of a feed sack, dimpled with softness, the fur shiny from sweat and stretched skin. Her tail flicked lazily against her haunch, brushing over grass bent by her own weight.
She gave a low, sleepy moan. “Uuugh… if I melt any more, just bury me in syrup…”
Beside her, the horse lay on his side, his own girth spread out like a collapsed tent. His once-powerful frame was now cartoonishly bloated—his belly drooping outward like a half-deflated balloon, sloshing softly with every twitch of his legs. Each movement made his glorious ass jiggle like fresh-baked bread. His hindquarters were vast now, each cheek heavy and slow to settle after every sleepy shift.
His chest had thickened, no longer broad and firm, but deep and soft, the weight of digested prey having settled into a rich, bouncing bulk. Even his neck was plump now—folded slightly as he lay with his head near Astoria’s shoulder, muzzle gently resting on the swell of her belly.
Their guts rumbled in stereo—deep, wet gllorrrrks and chrrrnks echoing as what remained of the day’s gluttony was broken down, softened further, and slowly redistributed into hips, tits, and thick, wobbly rears.
Astoria opened one eye, looked at him, and gave a slow, smirking blink.
“You got prettier,” she murmured.
The stallion gave a low, snorting huff, shifting his weight so his plush side pressed against hers. The contact sent a ripple through both their bellies, jiggling and sloshing, then settling with a wet, sleepy blorp.
“Think we made a mess back there?” she asked, tracing lazy circles on her gut.
He responded with a flick of his ear and a satisfied grunt—no regrets.
She chuckled, voice muffled by the sound of bubbling digestion.
“Good. Same.”
And the two lay there as the sun sank lower, the breeze brushing over their rounded bodies. Weighty, gurgling, plush and full, side by side in the grass, surrounded by warmth, fullness, and the kind of peace that only comes after eating way, way too much.
<<include "GO">>Astoria grins.
She’s seen that look before—the way the guard's eyes flick over her curves, the subtle parting of her lips, the flushed cheeks. That’s not fear. That’s fascination.
And fascination?
Well... that makes for a distracted meal.
Astoria shifts her weight—her belly slorrrshes, her thighs clap softly together—and then with a rumbling, eager grunt, she pounces.
“Sorry, cutie,” she coos. “But if you're not letting me in... you are the one getting in”
The guard gasps, stumbling back as Astoria barrels forward like a plush, overfed cannonball of fox fluff. Her arms reach out, maw already widening, throat flexing in anticipation.
But just as her arms reach the guard, the human moves.
Quick. Fluid. Trained.
She ducks, sidesteps with dancer-like grace, and grabs Astoria by the waist with surprising strength.
Astoria’s eyes widen. “Wait—h-huh—?”
She doesn't get to finish.
With a grunt and a twist of her hips, the guard lifts the bloated fox off the ground—belly and all—and spins her face-first into her open, stretching maw.
“I was hoping you'd try something,” the guard growls around her. “Guild says I’m not supposed to eat applicants, but…”
Her jaws unhinge effortlessly, and Astoria's soft body slides in, hips-first. Her fat tail squirms in protest, her legs kicking weakly, but the guard gulps again—GLRRRKK! GLLLP!—and the fox girl vanishes inch by inch into the soldier's throat.
Her gut balloons rapidly, armor plates straining over the swelling dome. The front buckle pops, her breastplate splits open with a metallic PANG, and her pale belly bursts free, growing rounder and rounder as Astoria sloshes inside.
“MMMMFFF!!?!?” comes the muffled squeal from inside the stomach, followed by a gurgling, juicy BLOOOOORP as the fox girl settles in fully.
The guard leans against her spear, panting slightly, her belly swaying massively in front of her—tight, heavy, stuffed with squirming fur.
“Goddess, you're thick,” she mutters, giving her dome a rub. “Thought I'd have to work for it.”
She gives a firm slap to the side of her gut—THWUMP!—and it jiggles beautifully, echoing with wet squelches and groaning pressure.
Her arms stretch, and with a long, slow BURRRRRP, a few tufts of orange fluff and the top half of Astoria’s half-ripped shirt flutter out of her mouth and land in the grass.
Her now overfed, armor-bursting form shifts with digestion already starting to churn.
''[[GRRRGHH... SLOSH... BLOORRRRP.->GL]]''
The guard’s spear is trembling in her grip.
Not because of fear.
Because of how Astoria looks under the sun—her massive belly swaying, thick hips rolling with every lazy step, her cleavage barely contained by her straining top. The way her sweat glistens down her plush fur. The way she moves like she owns the world.
The way she smells like fresh bread and heat and spice and... fox.
She should be stopping her. That’s her job.
But instead, she just stands there. Staring.
Astoria stops in front of her and gives her belly a slow, bouncing pat that makes the whole thing wobble like jelly.
“Problem, sweetie?” she purrs, tail flicking behind her.
The guard stammers. “Y-You’re not... not exactly what the guild looks for.”
“Really?” Astoria raises a brow, swaying her hips side to side. Her gut sloshes with a thick, creamy sound, one paw dragging slowly along its round swell. “Because I look like a reward.”
The guard gulps, eyes wide, locked on her.
Astoria steps closer—so close her belly presses softly against the girl’s armored chest.
“I can see it in your eyes,” she whispers, voice dripping with heat. “You’re not thinking about denying me. You’re thinking about what it would feel like to sink into all this.”
The guard flushes hard. “I—I would get in trouble—!”
“No one has to know,” Astoria coos. She leans in close, her lips brushing the guard’s ear. “You don’t have to stop me. You can be part of me.”
Her belly lets out a long, hungry groan.
GGRRRGGHHH...
“Warm, soft, sealed inside,” Astoria purrs, now trailing her paws down the guard’s waist, slowly guiding her fingers to her belly. “You’d melt down so easy, sweet thing. You’d make me bigger. Rounder. You’d look amazing on me.”
The guard trembles.
“You’d belong in my belly.”
And that’s it.
The guard drops her spear.
“I... I want to try,” she breathes. “I... I want to be in you.”
Astoria grins like a queen.
The guard steps forward and presses herself against Astoria’s belly, both arms wrapping around its sweaty, sloshing swell like she’s hugging her fate.
Astoria lifts her arms, opens her maw wide, and leans in.
The first swallow is smooth.
The second is wet.
GLLLRRK... GULP... GLLLMPHHH.
Bit by bit, the guard feeds herself in, moaning as Astoria’s throat stretches and her lips sloooorp around her chest, her soft moans echoing down into that greedy gullet. Her legs kick a little as her waist disappears, her eyes glazed with bliss.
“Yes... yesss... more,” the guard whimpers as Astoria’s lips close over her thighs.
And then—slrrrp—she’s gone.
Astoria leans back with a loud, belly-bouncing-
''[[BUUOOORRRP—!->MM1]]''
Inside, Astoria's kicks weaken. Her outline softens. The walls squeeze in, hot and slick, compressing her curves into bubbling soup.
The guard sighs, finally letting herself smile. Her belly rises high and heavy, perfectly round, taut with fox girl.
“Guess I’ll register you... as consumed,” she smirks.
The castle courtyard is silent, save for the loud churning of digestion.
The guard leans against a pillar, her belly still high and bloated, round and visibly sloshing with the remains of Astoria. She pants softly, one hand lazily gliding over the plush dome, the other undoing the final clasp of her ruined armor.
GRRRRGGHHHH...
Her stomach tightens, gurgles low and deep, then begins to slowly sink, pulling inward as the massive lump inside her starts to break down. The surface of her gut ripples—Astoria’s shape softening, melting, becoming less fox girl and more heavy, warm weight.
“Mmf... nghh... she's going straight to my hips, isn't she?” the guard groans with a wry smile, rubbing her stomach in slow, wide circles.
Then it hits.
The first surge.
Her belly suddenly tightens—BLOORP!—and with a heavy slosh, it begins to redistribute. Soft, warm weight pours downward, sliding into her hips and thighs with a wet, sensual SLLRRRPPP.
Her stance buckles slightly as her thighs plump outward, thighs that had once been lean and tight now jiggle with new mass, thick and soft and irresistibly touchable. Her rear explodes outward behind her—two plush, wobbling globes of fox-fed fat swelling against the inside of her uniform trousers.
RRRIIIP!
The seams of her pants give out with a violent tear, her overfed butt cheeks spilling free, bouncing with every slight breath. Her hips widen visibly, flaunting their new weight like proud banners of victory.
Her gut continues to shrink, folding slightly as the last of Astoria is absorbed. But her body blossoms everywhere else—her chest pushing against her tunic, buttons straining, and her arms thickening into soft, meaty curves.
BURRRRRRP.
She hiccups, dazed, before noticing something flutter down from her lips—a half-melted tuft of orange fur, a scrap of Astoria’s waistband.
She smirks and turns to the guard post mirror, admiring her new silhouette.
“Gods...” she murmurs, running her fingers along her hips. “She really did go to my ass.”
She spins slightly—JIGGLE! THWUMP! Her rear bounces twice before settling, swaying heavily behind her like two full barrels wrapped in softness.
From above, a second guard peers over the wall and stares, stunned.
“Uh... report?” they ask awkwardly.
The guard exhales, cracking her back and resting both hands on her wider-than-ever hips. “Applicant failed to meet guild standards,” she calls up smugly. “But she passed the taste test.”
<<include "GO">>A half-melted piece of blue cloth flutters from her lips. Her belly is heaving, a taut orb filled with the squirming, aroused form of the guard. She rubs it lovingly, her hips twitching with every moan and shift from inside.
“Oooh~ you're perfect in there,” she hums. “You’re going to add soooo much to my hips.”
Her belly squirms. From inside: "Mffffhh~!"
Astoria giggles, gives her gut a proud, full-body bounce, and turns back to the gates.
“I’m going in. Registration starts now~”
SLORP. BLOOOORRP.
Her belly leads the way—heavy, hot, and full of prey who begged to be part of her.
Astoria’s padded footsteps echo through the marble halls, every step a slow, wobbling motion of thick thighs, swaying hips, and her stuffed, gurgling belly. Her stolen entry through the gates has gone completely unchallenged, mostly because she’s too big to sneak and too bold to care.
But it’s what lies ahead that really makes her jaw drop.
The castle banquet hall.
Golden chandeliers sparkle above, and the long table is lined with silver platters, crystal goblets, and heaping mounds of the most decadent food she’s ever laid eyes on.
Roasted game hens, gravy-drenched potatoes, piles of rich pastries, glistening fruit, entire honey-glazed pigs. It’s a royal feast laid out like an altar to her greed.
She doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t hesitate. Her belly groans, and she dives in.
CHOMP. SLUUURP. SLOORP.
She crams her face full of buttered rolls and fried goose legs, stuffing herself silly. Her belly, already tight and swollen with guardgirl stew, now expands further, stretching out into her lap and over her knees. Moans escape her lips between bites.
She barely notices the approaching footsteps.
A voice cuts through the moans and munching:
“What... are you doing!?”
Astoria turns around, cheeks stuffed, crumbs dotting her fur. A young castle maid stands at the hall entrance, eyes wide in disbelief and horror... and something else. Her gaze keeps flicking down—to Astoria’s belly. Her massive, wobbling, table-denting belly, glistening with sweat and rising higher with each bite.
Astoria swallows a mouthful of cream cake and grins.
“Eating,” she says simply. “You got a problem with that, cutie?”
“I—You can’t just—you’re not even—who are you!?”
The maid’s fists are clenched, her face flushed. But her voice trembles. Her knees look a little weak.
Astoria sets down a bone and pats the side of her belly. SLOSH.
“You gonna stop me?”
The maid hesitates.
[[-Seduce the maid into getting eaten aswell->ML1]]
[[P1]]Astoria licks frosting from her fingers, her belly quaking with fullness, then turns her gaze on the stunned maid.
She can see it—the flushed cheeks, the way the maid's eyes keep flicking to her wobbling, overfed gut. That little spark of curiosity mixed with arousal. She's seen it before.
It’s like prey in a trance.
Perfect.
Astoria shifts on the banquet bench, her gut sloshing loudly as it hangs down between her thighs, pushing her legs wide. Her chest rests atop it, heaving as she grins, eyes half-lidded and lips slick with butter and lust.
“Mmm... you’re cute,” she purrs, voice low, “all wide-eyed and flushed, standing there while I gorge myself like a queen. You like watching, don’t you?”
The maid’s lips part, but she doesn’t speak.
“You ever wonder what it’s like?” Astoria continues, dragging a paw down the arc of her massive belly, which lets out a long, hungry BLRRGGGHHHH. “To melt in a belly like this? To become me?”
She lifts her arms, slow and inviting. Her body glistens with sweat. She gives her gut a soft bounce, and the maid’s legs twitch.
“I could make it slow,” Astoria coos. “Hot, wet, tight... I’d savor you. Let you slide down all soft and gooey... just for me.”
The room goes still.
The maid steps forward.
Astoria smirks. “That’s it, sweet thing... come to—"
''[[THWUMP.->ML2]]
The bench slams backward.
The maid lunges, not into Astoria’s arms—but onto her.
Astoria shrieks in surprise as the maid grabs her by the waist, hoists her up with shocking strength, and opens wide.
“What—WAIT—no no nonono—!”
But it’s too late.
The maid’s throat stretches as she devours Astoria from the top down—her chest first, those heavy breasts vanishing between hungry lips, then her arms, swallowed with wet GLLRMPH sounds.
Astoria kicks, legs flailing, belly bouncing wildly as it squishes between them, way too big to go down easily... and yet the maid keeps swallowing.
“Y-You’re supposed to be mine!” Astoria whines, muffled, now head-deep inside.
The maid’s cheeks bulge slightly as she pauses to breathe—then smirks, voice low and breathy:
“You talk too much, fluffball.”
GLLLK... GULP...
Her gut balloons outward, stretching fast and violently, the shape of Astoria’s belly distorting as it sinks into the maid’s own. Her uniform is no match—it tears down the middle as her once-tight waist explodes outward, her ass bouncing back with a WOBBLE as Astoria’s hips are absorbed.
Finally, with a slick, squelching SLLLORP, Astoria’s thick thighs disappear, and the maid gulps down her kicking paws with a satisfied sigh.
Now standing alone in the banquet hall, the maid wipes her lips with a linen napkin and stares down at her massive, squirming belly. It heaves, moans, and lets out a long, steamy BLLLOOOORP.
Inside, Astoria squirms weakly. “Hhnnngh—t-this was supposed to be my route—!”
The maid belches softly, then lowers herself to the ground with a sigh, rubbing the dome of her belly lovingly.
“Oh hush,” she murmurs. “You're lucky. You don't have to work with half a ton of foxgirl sloshing in your gut now...”
She smirks as her gut shifts again, Astoria’s outline slowly softening.
GRRRRLLLOP... BLOOOORP...
<<include "GO">>''[[Restart->Start]]''The maid stands frozen in the archway, eyes wide, hands clenched, cheeks pink.
Astoria doesn’t even try to explain herself.
She simply shifts her weight on the bench, causing her immense belly to jiggle and slosssshhh heavily in front of her. Her tail flicks lazily behind her. Her breasts, heavy and sweat-slicked, rest atop her swollen gut like plush pillows.
She reaches down and gives it a slow, deliberate pat, sending waves across its surface.
“Y’know,” Astoria purrs, voice honey-sweet, “people always look at me like I’ve gone too far.”
The maid blinks, breath caught in her throat.
Astoria leans forward with effort, arms cradling the dome of her middle. “But they don’t know what it’s like. The pressure. The heat. That feeling when you eat so much it feels like your belly’s gonna burst, and you just keep going anyway?”
She moans softly, rubbing in slow, circular motions.
“It’s not just hunger... it’s bliss.”
The maid stares, eyes flicking from the soft swell of her belly to the grease on her lips.
“I-I’m not... I can’t... I shouldn’t...”
“You want it,” Astoria whispers, turning her head with a fox’s sly smirk. “I can see it. You’re shaking.”
She reaches out, takes a nearby plate stacked with roasted quail legs, and offers it.
“C’mon. Just one. For me.”
The maid trembles.
Then takes the plate.
It starts with a bite.
Then two.
Astoria grins as the maid kneels beside her, chewing with little whimpers. “That’s it, sweet thing,” she coos, placing another platter between them. “Let it in. Let it fill you.”
The maid eats faster. More confident. Greedy.
Astoria scoots closer, their hips touching, bellies side by side. Hers still larger by far, but that doesn’t last long.
More meats. More pies. Cheese, bread, cream, sweets.
The food vanishes fast. The maid begins to sweat—her cheeks flushed, her uniform straining, buttons popping open one by one.
GROOOOAN.
Her belly expands, pressing into her lap, forcing her thighs apart. She moans low, both hands gripping the sides of her distending gut.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Astoria murmurs, one arm slinking behind her back, the other rubbing her taut, sloshy gut.
The maid nods, mouth full. “S-So full... can’t stop...”
Hours—or maybe just several hundred bites—later, both girls lie sprawled across the banquet floor. Empty trays and silverware surround them like the aftermath of a royal war.
Astoria’s belly rises high and wide, sloshing with every breath, utterly taut and impossible to ignore. The maid’s belly isn’t far behind—round, pale, and moaning with pressure, her uniform torn completely open.
They lie together, side by side, thighs and hips squishing together, bellies pressing into each other in slow, wet pulses.
Astoria chuckles, voice hazy with food fog. “Told you,” she sighs. “Doesn’t get better than this.”
The maid nods faintly, eyes half-lidded. “Never felt so... alive. And so close to exploding.”
BLORP... GROAAAAN...
Astoria reaches over and grabs the maid’s belly, jiggling it slightly.
“We make a good pair, don’t we?”
[[Dungeon]]
-Keep eating, screw the guild this is great!
-Swallow the maid before she changes her mind.
[[P2]]Astoria laughs—deep, rich, and bubbling from somewhere beneath her overfed lungs.
She reaches for another platter, slides it toward the maid. “C’mon... we’re already this far gone. You wanna stop now?”
The maid, panting, eyes glazed, shakes her head.
“No,” she whispers. “More. Just... more.”
And so they continue.
Quail. Sausages. Glazed ham. Fruit soaked in syrup. Frosted cakes that melt on the tongue.
Their bellies rise higher. Press harder together. Every tray disappears into one of them, gulped or sloppily chewed, their conversation reduced to moans and giggles and urp-filled sighs.
Their clothes? Torn. Ripped seams and loose straps. The maid’s apron is discarded like a napkin. Astoria’s top is knotted under her chest, her buttons long exploded across the banquet hall floor. Their skin glistens, flushed with effort and desire, and the scent of sugar and roasted fat fills the room like incense.
Astoria groans as she leans back onto a pile of discarded cushions, belly wobbling from the shift. Her gut towers like a soft, sloshing hill—taut and red from the stretch, creaking faintly as she breathes.
The maid leans against her, cradling her own gut like it’s precious cargo. “I can’t believe we ate all of it...” she slurs, glassy-eyed.
“You’re welcome,” Astoria purrs, pawing her own stomach. “This is what real adventurers chase... not glory. Not gold. This.”
She belches—long and slow and syrupy. Her belly gurgles like a clogged fountain.
But then—
CLACK. CLACK. CLACK.
The heavy doors of the banquet hall slam open.
A commanding voice rings out:
“What in the Queen’s name is going on here!?”
Both girls freeze.
Framed in the doorway, dressed in embroidered silks and looking very not amused, stands Princess Rhosyn herself.
She stares at the disaster: the empty platters, the overturned chairs, the moaning, near-naked women slumped in a nest of crumbs and wine stains.
She stares longer at Astoria’s obscene gut, which is wobbling from the effort of trying to sit up.
“Guards,” she says coldly. “Seize them.”
What follows is not dignified.
It takes six guards to get Astoria upright. She moans and hiccups the whole way, wobbling between them like a drunk parade float, her belly swinging so wide that they have to widen doorways on the way down. Her thighs drag. Her gut hits every stair.
“Watch it—oof! I’m delicate!”
One of the guards glares. “You’re jammed in the archway, lady.”
“I’m voluptuous!”
Eventually, with much groaning (from both Astoria and the guards), they cram her into a cold stone cell at the bottom of the castle’s dungeon.
She FLOPS onto the floor with a wet thud. Her belly spreads across the ground like rising dough, her limbs barely able to move beneath its bulk.
Behind her, the cell door slams shut.
''[[CLANK->DN2]]
Inside the dim cell... silence.
Until a quiet voice from the shadows says:
“Well. You look like trouble.”
Astoria blinks, eyes adjusting.
In the corner, a skinny, scrappy kobold sits chained up. He’s got one brow cocked, a curious glint in his eye.
“You here to eat me?” he asks.
Astoria groans. “No. I’m here to nap for a month.”
The silence of the dungeon is broken only by the wet, glorping churn of Astoria’s overworked belly as it slowly tries to digest a banquet that could’ve fed a small army.
She groans, sprawled on her side, tail twitching, arms resting limply on top of her gut.
The kobold in the corner watches her with sharp eyes and a toothy grin.
“You’re heavier than you look,” he finally says.
Astoria huffs, not bothering to look up. “Gee, thanks.”
“No, I mean it. You’re really heavy. Like... floorboard-splitting heavy.”
“I’m not that—”
CREAAAAAK.
The stone beneath her shifts slightly, just enough to be alarming. She pauses.
The kobold leans forward, chains rattling. “They moved me here a few weeks ago. Said the other cell was better ventilated. Truth is, this one’s got a cracked foundation under the back corner. Just under me.”
Astoria squints at him. “So?”
“So,” he grins, “you’re packed full of stolen noble calories and barely mobile. If you jump, or even bounce a few times hard enough right here—” he gestures to the base of the wall between their cells, “—I bet you punch a hole straight through.”
Her ears twitch. “That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”
“Or the best one,” he shrugs. “Got a better one?”
Astoria glances down at her belly. It groans ominously.
"...You think I can?"
“I think if anyone could rupture castle masonry with raw gluttony,” the kobold smirks, “it’s you.”
Astoria licks her lips. “...Alright. But if I fall and get stuck halfway through the floor, you better not laugh.”
“No promises.”
[[Follow the Kobold's plan and break into their cell->Trust]]
[[Screw that plan, bust out yourself->DN3 ]]
Astoria glares at the kobold through the busted wall. She’s still panting from smashing through the divider, sweat running down her cheeks, her belly heaving like a wave about to crest.
“You know what?” she growls. “I don’t need your sketchy plans.”
The kobold shrugs. “Hey, I just thought—”
“I am the plan.”
She plants both hands on the small of her back, grits her teeth, and huffs as she struggles up to her feet. Her belly swings dangerously beneath her, wobbling with every movement, already brushing the stone floor.
She turns to face the back corner of her own cell, where the floor looks cracked and worn—thin lines in the stone just barely visible under a layer of grime.
“Okay, you old gluttonous goddess,” she mutters to herself, patting the curve of her gut. “Let’s see if you’ve still got some shock-and-awe left.”
She takes a breath. Then jumps.
—or tries to.
It's more like a squat and slam. Her feet barely leave the ground, but the landing is thunderous. Her belly hits first, with a messy, jiggling slap, followed by a heavy thud from her thighs and hips crashing down.
The floor groans.
Cracks spiderweb wider beneath her.
The kobold blinks. “...That might’ve worked.”
Astoria grins. “Oh I’m not done.”
She jumps again.
THUD.
The whole cell shudders.
Chunks of stone shake loose from the ceiling. The floor screams beneath her.
Then, with one final grunt, she throws her weight down a third time—belly-first, the impact echoing like a collapsed feast table.
CRAAAAAACK—
And then—
''[[CRASH.->DN4]]''
The stone gives out.
With a squeal and a WHOOSH, Astoria plummets through the floor in a blur of fur, curves, and sloshing belly. Dust clouds explode upward as she disappears into the hole with a squeaky "OOF!"
A drain tunnel. Cold. Damp. Quiet.
Then—
FLOOOOMP.
Astoria lands in a shallow stream of runoff, belly first, her body jiggling like dropped pudding. She groans, slowly blinking.
“…Ow.”
But she’s out.
Somehow, miraculously, free.
Her belly gurgles in triumph, and she manages a lazy grin.
“Guess I’m too heavy for prison.”
She rolls onto her back with effort, letting the current gently carry her down the tunnel.
Above, the kobold peeks through the hole, hands on the edge, stunned.
“Well I’ll be damned,” he mutters. “She actually pulled it off.”
As the morning sun warms her fur and the breeze catches the scent of wildflowers and freedom, Astoria waddles down the dirt path away from the castle, every step a slow, sloshing victory. Her belly sways like a pendulum beneath her stretched tunic, still gurgling from the banquet that nearly became her last. She winces, then grins, tossing her mane back with a flick of her tail. “New town, new guild, maybe less food,” she mutters—then pauses. Her belly growls, defiant. “...Or at least fewer stairs.” With a smug chuckle and hips wide enough to brush the roadside hedges, Astoria keeps walking—ready to try again, heavy with experience and hungrier than ever.The stone gives out.
With a squeal and a WHOOSH, Astoria plummets through the floor in a blur of fur, curves, and sloshing belly. Dust clouds explode upward as she disappears into the hole with a squeaky "OOF!"
A drain tunnel. Cold. Damp. Quiet.
Then—
FLOOOOMP.
Astoria lands in a shallow stream of runoff, belly first, her body jiggling like dropped pudding. She groans, slowly blinking.
“…Ow.”
But she’s out.
Somehow, miraculously, free.
Her belly gurgles in triumph, and she manages a lazy grin.
“Guess I’m too heavy for prison.”
She rolls onto her back with effort, letting the current gently carry her down the tunnel.
Above, the kobold peeks through the hole, hands on the edge, stunned.
“Well I’ll be damned,” he mutters. “She actually pulled it off.”
As the morning sun warms her fur and the breeze catches the scent of wildflowers and freedom, Astoria waddles down the dirt path away from the castle, every step a slow, sloshing victory. Her belly sways like a pendulum beneath her stretched tunic, still gurgling from the banquet that nearly became her last. She winces, then grins, tossing her mane back with a flick of her tail. “New town, new guild, maybe less food,” she mutters—then pauses. Her belly growls, defiant. “...Or at least fewer stairs.” With a smug chuckle and hips wide enough to brush the roadside hedges, Astoria keeps walking—ready to try again, heavy with experience and hungrier than ever
<<include "GO">>The maid groans beside Astoria, belly round and trembling, rising and falling in slow, bloated waves. She’s dazed, soaked in sweat, her hands lazily resting on the crest of her stomach, eyes fluttering from the overwhelming fullness.
Astoria? She’s barely conscious of her surroundings—not from food, but from bliss.
Two overstuffed bellies, pressing against each other. Slick thighs touching. The sounds of wet digestion echoing between them.
But Astoria?
She’s still hungry.
Not for food... for opportunity.
Her golden eyes flick to the maid’s form—helpless, soft, stuffed full, barely able to sit up.
A thought curls around her mind like her tail.
“I think I’ll be needing your job now,” Astoria murmurs with a smirk.
The maid blinks. “Wha... huh...?”
Astoria rolls toward her. Her belly sloshes.
She opens her maw.
The maid lets out a weak gasp as Astoria grabs her by the hips—soft, thick hips from their shared gluttony—and lifts her halfway up, tucking the squirming girl against her chest like a prize.
Her jaws stretch—wide, practiced—and she begins to lower the maid in.
The first gulp is slow.
The second is wet.
GLRMPH... GULP... SHLOOOORP...
The maid’s bloated belly squishes into Astoria’s mouth, far bigger than most prey—but Astoria’s been working on her stretch. Her throat bulges, her gut surges outward, and the bench beneath her creaks in protest.
The maid’s legs kick softly once... then vanish.
With a final SLRRP, she’s gone.
Astoria sits back, groaning, her now gigantic belly gurgling, wobbling, and moaning with effort. Her paws glide over the mound as the maid squirms weakly inside, muffled and melting.
GRRRRLGHHH... BLOOOORP...
She lets out a deep, thunderous BURRRRRRP, and with it, a torn white apron flutters out and lands beside her.
She smirks.
“Thanks for the clothes, sweetie. What’s left of them.”
With some effort and a few creative tugs, Astoria pulls what remains of the maid’s uniform over her shoulders and lets it barely drape across her massive bust and hips. It fits like stretched napkins, but it’ll do.
Just in time.
Because the doors swing open—
And in walks the princess.
The princess pauses, stunned, eyes wide as she takes in the scene: the wrecked banquet, the devoured feast, the wobbling fox girl with a gut like a royal mattress, and the remnants of her staff’s clothes hugging her figure like a second skin.
Astoria smiles sweetly.
“Oh! Sorry about the mess. There was an intruder, you see.”
She pats her gut.
“Don’t worry. I took care of her.”
The princess narrows her eyes… and then softens. Her gaze trails down Astoria’s curves. That glistening belly. That smug confidence.
“Well...” she says, licking her lips, “you clearly handled it.”
Astoria gives a curt smile, letting out a light
''[[URPH->P3]]''
The princess stands before her, hands on her hips, expression teetering between outrage and arousal. Her long crimson dress hugs her curves, golden crown catching the candlelight.
“You’ve made quite the mess,” she says.
Astoria leans back, arms resting atop the vast, writhing swell of her belly—still squirming with maid inside, each motion sending a slossshhh echoing through the hall.
“I do tend to leave an impression,” Astoria hums. “Especially on those who end up inside me.”
The princess raises an eyebrow. “And yet you’re wearing my servant’s clothes.”
“They suit me,” Astoria purrs, stretching with a long moan. “Though I was thinking something a bit more... regal.”
The princess opens her mouth to respond.
But stops.
Astoria’s tail curls. Her belly lets out a low, hungry GRRRRRGGHHHH.
“I’ll be taking your position now, sweetheart.”
The princess gasps, backing up a step. “You wouldn’t dare—!”
“I would,” Astoria says, standing slowly, belly swaying like a waterbed under her. “And I’m going to savor every inch of you.”
But before she opens wide, Astoria lifts a paw.
“Wait—crown first.”
She plucks the golden circlet from the princess’s head with surprising gentleness. Then reaches for the silky straps of the dress, unfastening them with casual grace, letting the elegant garment slip off the fox princess’s plush frame.
“You’ll look better without it... inside me.”
She tosses the dress and crown aside, opens her arms—and her maw.
The princess turns to run, but with surprising speed for someone so heavy, Astoria pounces, pinning her prey to the carpet with her soft belly and a teasing grin.
“Don’t worry,” she coos, drool glistening on her fangs. “I’ll carry your legacy... on my hips.”
Then she lowers her mouth over the princess’s head.
GLLRK... GLOOP...
The royal fox girl lets out a muffled shriek, but her strength fades with each gulp. Her breasts vanish between Astoria’s lips. Her belly squishes tight against Astoria’s own as it melds into her gut, and her thighs, thick and trembling, kick one last time before being slurped up.
SLORRRP.
The maid squirmed. The princess? Squirms harder.
Astoria sinks to her knees, her belly now immense, twice the size it was before. It groans, shifts, and distorts as the royal meal squirms deep inside.
BLORRP... GROOOAAN...
She lets out a long, echoing burp, and the last trace of royalty—a silk ribbon—floats to the floor.
Astoria grabs the discarded crown, wipes it clean with a cloth napkin, and sets it atop her head. She pulls the princess’s elegant gown over her bust, which now barely fits—each breast overflowing, her belly stretching the fabric taut.
She saunters toward the throne room, every step a slosh, every sway of her hips a statement.
Guards bow. Nobles gawk. But no one questions her.
They wouldn't dare.
She’s regal. Radiant. Rotund. And full of power.
Literally.
<<include "GO">>
''ENDING - OILED AND OWNED''
''ENDING - TAVERN MASSACRE''
''ENDING - BOTTOMLESS BELLY''
''ENDING - MUGGED & MELTED''