Magnus the Dragonborn slowly meandered his way up the street, the bundle of swords on his back clinking and rattling away. He may have been filthy rich already, but he wasn’t about to let good steel rust away in the wilderness when someone upstanding could make use of them instead. Sure, some crook could easily just buy them and bring them out to arm more bandits, but at least he was making an effort. He would have dropped them off with Adrianne, but Warmaiden’s was apparently closed indefinitely due to the producer of their product apparently becoming too fat to work the forge. A smashed hand would do that, and since he was partially responsible… well, shit happened. He wasn’t going to feel guilty over this one.
He turned at the well, noting again, shockingly, that as of now neither Carlotta nor Olfina had succumbed to the epidemic of female obesity. A small part of him was willing to bet that that would eventually change, but now was not the time to dwell on it. He was on assignment from the Dawnguard; some cave, Dimhollow Crypt, he had to go and explore. Which, in and of itself was odd. For the singular reason that he could not recall there being a cave, let alone a crypt, where he was supposed to be going. And he knew without a doubt that he had been in that particular region of Skyrim before.
He lightly shoved open the door to the General Store with his foot. “Hello? Anyone there?”
A woman’s voice answered from the back. “Just a second!”
A young, blonde, and incredibly obese woman squeezed out of the back room with her face tilted down, attention focused on attempting, extra emphasis on “attempting,” to do up a button across the pale expanse of one of the largest guts he had ever had the pleasure of seeing. Just on a guess, he’d peg her at the high end of the five hundred range. Sort of like Brelyna had been immediately after getting struck by J’zargo’s failed overburden spell. He could safely assume though, that there was no magic involved in this lady’s obesity. Just old-fashioned, divinely inspired gluttony. Points for modesty, or at least a show of effort towards such.
The blonde looked up from her shirt. “Hello what can I---“ She shrieked. “Ah! Mr Dragonborn, sir!”
He blinked twice, slowly. “One, for the love of Talos my name is Magnus. Two, do I know you?”
The woman looked taken aback for a moment. “You, you mean you don’t remember… Oh, never mind. I’m a lot bigger than I was then.”
He silently thought to himself ‘kind of a theme around Skyrim these days’ before asking the baited question. “Ok, where have we met?”
The blonde started fidgeting, twiddling her chubby fingers under her melon-sized breasts shyly. “On the road from the Rift, around those big stone towers near that giant camp. You disarmed me and let me live.”
It clicked in his head. “Oh, you’re that girl? Well, glad to see you took my advice and turned your life around.” He paused a beat before continuing. “Eh, so, clearly Ysolda is treating you well. Good boss?”
The girl, which seemed a more appropriate term when he took her age into account, nodded her head enthusiastically. “Yes, yes, a hundred times yes. I owe her so much for giving me this chance.”
The left corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “Good to hear.” He gently took the bundle of swords off of his back and set them on the counter. “You can just take these off my hands. I’ll make what they’re worth twice over just walking from here to Solitude.” He waved lightly and started to turn around. “You let Ysolda know I said ‘hi,’ alright?”
There was an immediate “Wait!” And he stopped before looking back at the girl. “Something else?”
The blonde got that shy look again, and was quiet for a time, before eventually speaking again. “I, er, how well do you know Miss Ysolda? I mean, how good of friends are you?”
He scowled lightly as he thought about it. “I’d say more than fair. She’s always been a good friend to me when I’m in town. Warmed right up to me when I started out, and was a bit more lenient than I probably deserved during one, eh, incident.” He muttered under his breath. “Stupid Sanguine; getting me that drunk…” He looked back up at the young woman. “Why?”
The girl blushed something fierce. “She can’t leave her house. I mean, she’s gotten too fat to fit out the door. I’d love to help, but, I can’t afford to build her a new house or anything. And I thought that maybe you could, ah, since you seem so well off.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Ah huh, and why exactly is her size so embarrassing to you?”
The flush got worse, leaps and bounds worse. “Um, because, because I kind of helped her get there. I asked her to help me get bigger, fatter, and I wound up feeding her almost as much as she fed me. I feel really bad that she can’t get out of her house now, because of me.”
He just stood there in silence for a long moment, while a smirk slowly grew on his lips. “If it makes you feel any better, this probably would have happened anyway. You just sped up the process.” He laughed once. “As for your request; I’ve got to say, I’ve had a lot of people ask me for gold over the years I’ve been wandering Skyrim. This has got to take the cake for the oddest reason.” His smirk morphed into a genuine smile. “But seeing as it’s for a friend of mine, how can I say no?”
Winterhold: Mage’s College
Nirya didn’t know fully what she had expected when she had asked to be made Head Wizard, but it certainly wasn’t what she had gotten. She had the title, but that meant little to nothing when none of the College masters paid her the slightest bit of heed. It was like Magnus had gone about and specifically ordered them to ignore any order she gave. Which, come to think of it, sounded like something he would do. Nords were very particular when it came to honor, or something like that. Maybe it had been a bad idea to try and ply sex to advance her station. She flushed, and a heat built up in her flab-swaddled loins. Still, the sex had been utterly fantastic. So much stamina, and unrelenting vitality…
She leaned forward onto the desk, propping her chin up on her pudgy fingers. “It’s not like I should be feeling depressed about it. It was a sort of transaction, nothing romantic. I knew he wouldn’t likely come back for another go.”
She could say that, but it didn’t change the fact that she missed the attention. The other men at the College were all old, save little Onmund. But that boy already had his prize, his whale of a Dunmer. Really now, how fat did Brelyna think she could get before even a spell that cut her weight essentially in half wasn’t enough to keep her mobile? And Faralda, reveling in her newfound gluttony. It was only a matter of time until the other Altmer was just a rotund as Brelyna. Reap what you sow, she thought. And yet, they both seemed quite happy. Brelyna’s face just lit up when Onmund so much as touched her hand. Faralda, just had this look of smug satisfaction whenever her distended gullet burst through another robe, whenever she caught anyone, passerby or collegiate, staring at either massive breasts or equally massive ass.
Of course, she was hardly one to criticize. Comfort eating was what she did now when she felt particularly lonely. And she had ballooned herself as a direct consequence. Her twofold belly, currently drooping out unabashedly through her open robe and filling her lap, rested atop thighs that, even spread as far apart as she could move her legs, still touched quite firmly. Thighs that rubbed together all the way to her knees whenever she walked, which was becoming increasingly rare. She looked down at herself, gingerly sliding her hands into the fold that had swallowed her navel, and tried to lift. In less than a second her ham-sized, flabby limbs were burning with exertion and she abruptly let go, creating a fairly loud smacking noise as her fat gut plopped back down onto her thighs.
Brelyna was far bigger than her, Faralda was bigger than her. How exactly were they happy about it? Sure, Magnus had a thing for large women, and she had acted accordingly, but there really couldn’t be that many others that felt the same, right? If that were the case, then wouldn’t the vast majority of Skyrim’s women already be obese? Granted, living in the College was rather pampered compared to living out on the plains---
The realization hit her, and she voiced it to the empty room she sat in. “Oh, so that’s why. Most Nord women don’t have the luxury of…”
That still begged the question of how Faralda was enjoying herself so much. As far as she could tell, the College destruction master did not have a significant other to appreciate her girth. She couldn’t actually enjoy being that large simply because she was that large, could she?
She looked down at herself again, lazily prodding her gut and watching it undulate for a few moments before stopping. “I could always ask, if she would even bother to answer.”
Judging by the time, according to the window and the dimming light outside, Faralda would probably be in her quarters stuffing her face. Which meant that if she wanted to act on this odd idea of hers she’d have to stand up and waddle her way down a flight of stairs, out into the cold, and across the courtyard. Technically that wasn’t a very long way, but her legs hadn’t been getting much use. It would suck; if she wanted to be blunt about it. But her confusion likely wouldn’t be dealt with otherwise.
Riften: Vex’s Manor
Vex let out a long yawn, attempting to stretch her limbs, but forgetting that she was too fat to get off of her rear end. Reality hit abruptly, and forced a small giggle from her. How in Oblivion could she forget? She literally could not touch the edges of her hips. She couldn’t see her feet, even though her legs were stretched out in front of her. If she wiggled her toes, she could only visually note that because of the ripples the motion set off on her legs. None of which she particularly minded. The issue she had with her size, was that she hadn’t yet met a man brave enough to swim through her blubber and give it to her. Even more frustrating, it was utterly impossible for her to do it herself. She’d never had a need to do so before, as she’d never had a problem finding some guy to warm her bed, but now that she was immobile---
A very loud knock, more of a slam really, sounded from her door, accompanied by a voice. “Hey! Open up!”
She was surprised for half a second, but then she recognized the voice. That woman sounded a little different when she wasn’t wasted. Doubtlessly Nivenor was trying to barge in and bitch about the weight she had gained. But, she wasn’t worried. What was the elf going to do, try and stab her? If Nivenor tried she’d be dead before she made it three steps. Even if the elf did stab her, what was it really going to hurt? She was so fat that the odds of a knife hitting something vital were more remote than her giant ass suddenly sprouting wings.
She gestured towards the door and spoke to one of her servants. “Go ahead, let her in.”
The door was unlocked and the freshly obese Dunmer stormed in, stopping five something steps away and cupping both hands around her exposed gut. “What is this? Why in Oblivion did you feel compelled to do this to me?”
Calmly, she reexamined her handiwork from last night, and smirked. “It amused me. Besides, I think it looks good on you.” She paused for a second. “Why? Do you have some reason to complain?”
Nivenor looked really taken aback. “What? What are you talking about? Of course I do! Look at me! You made me fat!”
She tilted her head to the side. “So, that’s it then? Vanity? That’s your only complaint?”
The elf did another double-take. “Wha, you, how---“
She continued. “Have you considered certain other things? Like, how you feel? Have you asked your husband what he thinks?” A devious smirk lit up her face. “He didn’t happen to be giving you a little more attention than usual, hmm? Getting a little more handsy?”
Nivenor looked very, very confused. “You, you can’t be implying that he, that he finds me, all of this…”
She nodded. “What, you thought you were the only one that fooled around or gave people other than your spouse lusting looks? When I was still capable of walking around, your man would stare at my fat ass like a dog staring at a side of beef. I can only imagine what he’d do to me now if he could see me.” She chuckled evilly. “Not so fun when the glove’s on the other hand, hmm?”
Nivenor’s face was priceless. Even if it was a little cruel of her to be amused by the fact that the Dunmer’s entire world view seemed to be crumbling. The elf stumbled back and fell into a chair that someone else had been thoughtful enough to move.
After a very long moment a smidge of pity leaked into her head, and her voice softened a bit. “Look, maybe you’ve just rushed your judgment on this whole ‘being fat’ thing. I’d be more than happy to let you have another go…” An amused smile twisted her face. “And maybe this time you should take it easy on the wine. You’re not quite on my level when it comes to alcohol tolerance.”
Winterhold: Mage’s College
Nirya leaned against the inner wall of the Hall of Countenance, gasping for breath. It had taken her a bit longer to make the walk than she had expected. The sun had gone down, and she simultaneously felt frigid and on fire. Cold, obviously from the thrice cursed Skyrim blizzards. Hot, from the effort it took to lug her flabby body around. Brelyna and Faralda had that feather spell to help them around. No one had bothered to help her get a copy. Fortunately for her, Faralda slept in the room immediately on her right. If she had to walk any more inside the hour she just might keel over and die. She stayed like that for maybe ten minutes before her breathing slowed down enough to maintain some slight measure of dignity. After that stretch of time she took the four remaining steps, blubbery thighs feeling very much like jelly despite her brief respite, and turned the corner to Faralda’s room.
The destruction master was waiting for her, rather modestly clothed for the hour in an ill-fitting robe that made no effort to cover the other Altmer’s generous orb of a belly. Faralda was oddly posed in a way that could be construed as quite erotic, legs spread wide, breasts clearly unconstrained beneath the thin robe, belly flowing down into the space to conceal the groin. But really it was more than likely this was simply for comfort’s sake. It took effort to balance a fat gut atop fat thighs, she knew that personally. The loose tits were even easier to explain away; Faralda didn’t own a bra big enough to hold the pair of pale gold boulders that graced her chest. The look on Faralda’s round face got her though, a look of abject, smug amusement.
The other Altmer spoke first. “Well, this is a surprise. I didn’t think you had that much walk in you, let alone the gumption to seek me of all people out.”
She stood as straight as she could manage, which wasn’t very much so because the weight of her gut pulled down so much she had a permanent arch to her back. “I had a question for you, one that has been nagging me for a time.”
Faralda smirked. “Well, by all means, ask away. It’s my duty as a teacher to answer.”
She scowled, disliking extremely the notion that she was being patronized. “Your, size. How is it that you seem to be enjoying yourself so much?
The other Altmer simply shrugged. “I enjoy eating whatever I like and welcoming the consequences to my figure. I delight in the attention I receive should I make the short walk into town. And I adore the feeling of my girth slowly expanding as a result of my appetite.” Again, a patronizing smirk. “Is that a concise enough explanation for you? Or would you like something simpler?”
Her frustration gave her a surge of energy, and she spun on her heel. “No, I think that will be quite enough.”
As she reached for the door to the outside a sound filtered through the wood, a vicious howl of wind. And she hesitated. Dark out, a raging blizzard, and she was exhausted. A thought flickered through her mind of her stumbling blind through the snow, tripping, and not being found till morning, long since dead from exposure. She backed away from the door.
Faralda’s voice sounded again, but this time it was a fair bit gentler. “You, could wait here for a while if you like, for the storm to die down some.”
Slightly surprised, she nonetheless took the offer and wedged her overfed hips into a chair far too small for her, silently. Not the chair, mind. The chair groaned like it would snap, but it held, if only just. The room itself feel into a deep quiet, save the roaring winds that echoed through the walls. And she made no effort to break it. She might have become a fat, nearly useless secretary, but she still had pride enough to refuse to speak with someone that held her in such contempt.
A long while passed, how long she couldn’t exactly say, before Faralda broke the silence. “You know, this little feud between the two of us really no longer serves a purpose. You have the ‘position’ we were both vying for.”
Her gaze flicked up. “And, what, you’re willing to let it go just like that? The sabotaged experiments, the nasty rumors, all of it?”
Faralda shrugged lightly. “I don’t see that we have anything left to compete over. We don’t need to be enemies any longer.” After a long pause the other elf added, “We could even be, dare I suggest it, friends, I suppose.”
She looked away, very much humbled by the metaphorical olive branch. Position or no, Faralda was still her superior, so the other Altmer had nothing to gain by extending this offer. It was purely, as the saying went, out of the goodness of Faralda’s heart. Supposedly. There might be an angle to it, but she really, really couldn’t fathom what that angle would be.
Awkwardly, and very nearly approaching shyly, she replied. “I, I suppose that could be an agreeable change of pace.” She dropped the proud act. “Ok, no, I would like that very much.”
As she said those last few words her stomach protested quite loudly that it hadn’t been fed in the last hour. She almost felt embarrassed, but considering that Faralda was explicitly trying to get fatter it really didn’t seem like that much of an issue.
Indeed, the destruction master smiled warmly. “Quite the gullet you have there. Seems a shame to let it go hungry, hmm?” Faralda pointed to the cupboard to the right of the bed, her left. “I keep a few pies and other pastries in there for, emergencies. You’re welcome to them if you like.” A short laugh escaped the other elf. “And you’re also welcome to the end of the bed if you want somewhere else to sit. My hips hurt just looking at you right now.”
She was more than happy to accept that offer, particularly when the chair finally gave out and blew apart into splinters under her tremendous tush.