Magnus the Dragonborn stopped for the fifth time on this journey and waited for Serana to catch up. Quite a good number, considering. He was almost amused actually. The vampire wasn’t fat, at least not yet. As of now Serana still looked heavily pregnant, for whatever reason. She could probably explain it, but he doubted that she would on her own.
He spoke as the vampire approached. “You know, this really doesn’t seem to be that bright of an idea. A vampire walking right into the keep of the group of people who profess hating vampires the most out of everyone else.”
Serana shot back instantly. “I have a habit of bad ideas.”
He offered a rebuttal. “And I have a habit of bailing you out of them. Just don’t think that means I’ll wipe out the Dawnguard if they decide to kill you. I like you as a friend, really, and I usually kill for my friends. But, killing several dozen good people is a step I’m not willing to take.”
His reward was a smirk. “I guess I’m just lucky you’re hearing me out.”
He smirked right back. “Least I could do for you humoring Elisif, and not making her feel worse.”
Serana scowled. “You’re a riot. Real court jester material.”
His expression did not change. “One of my many charms. I could have gotten hired by the Emperor, if I hadn’t killed him.”
The vampiress just silently glared at him, and tried to walk by him in the narrow canyon. This didn’t work very well. Serana’s cannonball stomach got wedged between him and the wall, and he had no intention of moving.
Serana let out a shocked gasp. “Wha, m, move!”
He did exactly the opposite, and poked the orb for good measure. “Maybe I will, if you explain why you still have this after five days of walking.”
The woman looked shocked. “Wait, you’re, you’re really going to make me explain this?” He nodded slowly, repeatedly, smirking the entire damn time until the vampiress started talking. “I’m UNDEAD! I’m not supposed to eat anything, period. I have no idea how long this…” The irate vampiress gestured to her gut. “…Is going to stick around.”
He nodded slowly, and moved away. “I suppose that makes sense. But it IS going to metabolize at some point, right? Because, plain honesty, if all that’s just going to sit in there and rot before you digest, you might just consider taking that knife of yours and cutting it out. Your breath is going to be horrendous.” Serana paused, a thoughtful look crossing her face, and he blurted something else out. “By Talos, I wasn’t serious about that!”
Serana’s face acquired a tiny blush. “Well, this is different for me too. I have no idea how to deal with it either.”
A small moment of uncomfortable silence fell between the two of them. Truth be told, if he were honest within the silence of his own head, he wondered himself why he was helping Serana at all. She was a vampire, full stop. Literally every single other vampire in Skyrim was evil to the core. The only one he knew of that he wouldn’t touch was Alva in Morthal. And that was more out of respect for the law in Morthal than anything else. That, and no one had hired him to kill her.
He let out a sigh. “Ok, so, re-run of the plan. We walk in and I make sure you get the opportunity to make your case to the head honcho.” He paused, for all of three seconds. “Please make it a good pitch.”
Solitude: Blue Palace
Elisif the Fair bit her lip as she disrobed in front of her room’s mirror. She knew these bi-weekly parties were taking a toll on her figure, but she had been putting it out of her mind because she didn’t want the warm feeling of company to be subverted. But, it was time to face reality. She was getting fat, she just needed to know how fat.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Moment of truth.”
She opened her eyes and, for the first time took a true, hard look at her new dimensions. Everything about her had grown. Her formerly perky breasts had swollen into sagging melons which rested heavily atop a paunch with a deepening crease across her navel, a navel she could no longer see without lifting the top half of her stomach. A task that her fluffy, flabby arms were ill suited for. Her paunch covered her groin and, even when lifted her nether region remained buried in flabby flesh. Her thighs met all the way down to her knees and wobbled just from her labored breathing, though, she supposed it was a small mercy that they were still smooth and unblemished by stretch marks. And then there was her rear. She turned halfway to present her ass to the mirror. If judging by sheer size, as one would judge a prize pig, her butt was certainly her most impressive asset, no pun intended. It wasn’t that she were overly wide, though her hips had spread out alarmingly far, but her rear arced out so much behind her it, and below her when she sat down, there was clearly more than a foot of difference from the base of her back and the farthest expanse of bottom.
She swallowed hard and bit her lip. No lingerie she owned would contain her, and she certainly didn’t intend on ordering custom ones from the Altmer sisters of Radiant Raiment. It wasn’t as if she had anyone special to entice with it, and if she kept attending Jordis’s parties she’d just outgrow then anyway. On the thought of someone special though…
A soft whimper slipped from her lips. “Torygg…” Her hands plaintively cupped her various extremities, breasts, belly, ass, in that order. “Would you still love me like this? Would you still call me ‘Fair?”
She felt herself tearing up, felt it, and promptly squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “I, I’ve got to stop doing this to myself.” Her stomach rumbled loudly, and a wan, lopsided smile crossed her lips. “I guess that’s one way to work through this…”
Ysolda tilted her head back, a delighted glow to her cheeks, to once again regard the new, significantly higher ceiling of her new mansion, pro-bono courtesy of Magnus’s charity. She would never have asked him to give this much, indeed she was likely too proud to ask for money at all, but she was deeply touched that the hero of Skyrim would do all of this for her. One thing was for sure, Magnus would never pay for a drink at any establishment she owned for the rest of his life.
She was, given her size, permanently rooted in one section of the house. That position was conveniently a comfortable section of the back wall that was both slanted and padded so she could lean back against something soft, and exert as little energy as possible. So situated, she could survey her entire domicile with a twitch of her head, call for something, gently give an order; it was really a perfect scenario. But, to her the best part was the extremely wide double doors to the front. Doors so wide that they could even accept her vastness with room to spare. Of course, that meant Octavia could still visit her, and feed her. And she loved both of those.
With regards to the young Imperial, Octavia had seemingly hit a plateau when it came to fatness. Roughly around the seven hundred mark, though she was guessing on this. It was a good number, considering. Her pseudo-daughter, or at least she fancied thinking of Octavia that way, was immense, but still capable of getting around under her own power without TOO much difficulty. Octavia had come to the same conclusion, and had stopped asking to be fed.
As for herself, already being immobile, she really could afford, both in the monetary and physical sense, to not care. She thoroughly enjoyed watching her already tremendous stomach distend from a vigorous stuffing, and then deflate as her gluttony was digested across her vast frame. Week to week she delighted in watching the edge of her stomach, like a growing sea, recede further and further out of her flabby arm’s reach, and then just give it all a nudge to watch her body ripple and jiggle. Any slight motion did that, and she LOVED it. Her legs were so completely swaddled in flab the best comparison she could make was that they looked like terrifyingly large grubs. She was, she just, she felt she had earned this. She was a success, she was a wealthy business woman, just like she had sworn she would be.
She turned her head to the side to look at one of her maids. “Torya, what’s the profit margin for this week?”
The plump, belly-heavy, Redguard maid calmly flipped through a small ledger before answering. “I think… yes, for the past several weeks there we have a profit of five thousand spetims per week, including operating costs.”
One of her plush arms reached up to rub her chin thoughtfully. She was doing very well, but, maybe she wasn’t doing quite enough. There were other inns out there, as well as other stores…
Dayspring Canyon: Fort Dawnguard
Magnus the Dragonborn felt relief course through him once again as the conversation played out amicably, if tensely between vampire and vampire-hunter. He was hardly paying full attention to things, but the gist of it was something he was used to. Prophesies, Elder Scrolls, hoopla that needed to be killed, mostly vampires.
One line though, got his attention and he interrupted. “Wait, hold on, say that part again.”
Serana gave him an annoyed look and repeated herself. “I said, we need to find Auriel’s Bow before my father can. And we need the other two Elder Scrolls to do that, along with someone who can read them.”
He rolled his eyes and gave the vampiress a patronizing smirk. “Ah, no, no we don’t.” He was immediately on the receiving end of a bevy of incredulous looks, from all the people. “Look, this little situation reminds me of a story I read once about Talos.” He paused for dramatic effect. “There was this tribe that stood in the way of one of Talos’s campaigns, the chief presented this challenge to Talos. ‘Untie this impossible knot.’ Now, I’m sure there was some convoluted and extremely time-consuming method of actually untying the knot, but you know what Talos did? He took one look at the knot, looked back at the chief, and hacked the rope in half with his sword.” He smiled again. “You see, this is the same sort of situation. Finding the bow is the long and convoluted process. The simple solution is, kill daddy vampire and the rest of the clan.”
The leader of the Dawnguard gave him a long, hard look. “You plan on taking on a master vampire, and his entire clan, by yourself?”
He smirked lightly. “Well, no, not by myself. I’ve got some friends that would be very interested in a good scrap.”
Riften: Vex’s Manor
Vex let out a long sigh as she closed the book she had balanced upon her cleavage. This, this was going to be a test of her budding talent. She had poured long, long hours into this. Neglected her lovingly glutted body, unthinkably lost some of her prized bulk, but if she pulled this off it would all be worth it.
Nivenor, now at least as fat as her in terms of raw weight, smarmily commented on her imminent action. “I still think this is a bad idea. You consider how badly things might go if you screw up?”
She shot back, smiling sweetly. “Of course I have. What kind of fool do you take me for?”
Silence fell again as she hesitated. Nivenor was right, this could go very, VERY badly. But, she hadn’t become the mead empress by backing down from an opportunity! She raised her hands, squishing her broad breasts together in the process, and cast the Alteration spell.
Before the effects took affect she turned her head to bark at the burly men behind her. “Now push, everything you’ve got!”
Six sets of hands accustomed to the most grueling of physical labor sank into her prodigious backside at once, heaving against her bulk and gravity to what most would consider an insane end. And as her dual-cast Feather took she felt a sign of progress, there was a breeze under her gigantic rump. Long months of being eternally flush with the floor, air greedily swooped into the space so long denied to it. Thusly encouraged she added her own effort, however feeble, to the effort, hurling what infinitesimal muscle she had left into moving forward.
And rise she did. It was slow, it was torturous to the men behind her, but she was SO close to standing again. She could unwittingly pitch forward onto her table and crush it, and then be stuck with her butt in the air for the rest of her days. Her legs could simply give out under her immensity, crumbling to power at the weight of all of her greedily collected flab…
Things stopped. A very long moment passed where silence once more reigned while she took stock of her situation. Things were still touching the floor; her calves for one, which had swallowed her feet hundreds of pounds ago, the lowest edge of her belly, which draped across her front like an obscenely large apron. And, never to be outdone, her butt still touched the floor. But, she was standing. She had to weigh well over and ton, and she was on her feet. Her legs were on fire, but she was standing.
Nivenor’s tone clearly conveyed how impressed she was. “Well now, if that isn’t just the most impossible thing I’ve ever seen.”
A triumphant grin split her face. “Perfect!” Slowly, like a glacier, she shuffled around to face the hired hands she had milling about. “Now, all that I have to do is get a carriage built to house a woman of my particular, majesty. My workers have toiled long enough without my watchful eye.”
Nivenor cocked one eyebrow at her. “And here I thought they were already scared to death of you.”
Her grin turned evil. “You would think so, but I keep a sharp eye on the books. Someone over near Whiterun is getting a little greedy with his skimming, and I don’t like skimming now that I’m the one collecting. Mallus is going to be in for a very cruel surprise, as soon as I get my fat ass over there.”
Magnus the Dragonborn burst through the double doors of the mead hall, jubilantly bellowing at the top of his lungs. “Companions!” He waited the half second it took for the warriors to look at him. “Who feels up to hunting some vampires?”
There was a roar of enthusiasm as the Companions surged out of their seats.