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Dayspring Canyon:

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.”

Whiterun: Jorrvaskr

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.

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Markarth: Vlindrel Hall

Elenwen, now doubly a traitor to the Thalmor, found herself staring at a cold stone floor while her lungs worked mightily to recuperate from recent, exertions. Granted, she hadn’t been required to do all that much. But the simple act of flopping over onto her stomach, emphasis on “flop,” was impossibly tiring for a woman of her present girth. Not that the reward from doing so hadn’t been incredibly pleasant. She just wished it hadn’t taken so much effort. She tilted her neck back, up relative to the floor, to look at Magnus, who was seated on the floor in front of her. Partly contrasting herself, Magnus was breathing slowly in long, even breaths as opposed to her winded gasping. The similarity came when it came to clothing, ergo, none. The Dragonborn’s male majesty was on full display, toe to head, which only highlighted the vast disparity between their physiques. It almost made her regret her incredible sloth, but not quite. Her only concern right now was what she would do if the Thalmor actually tracked her down. She could still cast spells, she knew that, but she was the epitome of the “sitting duck.”

Magnus spoke up, disrupting her train of thought. “You know, I think I’ve mentioned it before that you’re brilliant. But this is a whole different direction of guile.” The Nord stood up, not even attempting to hide anything. “Keep this up and I might start to like you.”

She wriggled lightly, trying to flip herself back over. “Touching. Now are you going to help me sit back up or are you going to leave me to do that myself?”

The man laughed, but she couldn’t see him anymore. “Sure. I’ll get right on it.”

True to his word she felt hands digging into and gripping the fat rolls around her waist. Obligingly, she attempted to roll in the direction she was being pushed. The thing with trying to move a body like hers, every bit of effort was needed. Not that she wasn’t fond of being touched. Months going without only made her appreciate a man’s touch more. Unfortunately the only man she knew of that didn’t find her bulk repulsive was Magnus. He was also the only man other than the nearly mute Argus that she could associate with without blind rumor getting back to the Thalmor. She hated how dependent that made her, but at least Magnus wasn’t taking advantage. This little tryst had been entirely her idea.

In a testament to the Nord’s raw physical strength, or at the very least a separate one, Magnus more or less turned her over by himself. And, with a separate shove, allowed her to resume her seated position in the corner of the main room. The man then went about collecting his flung clothing and armor while she continued, well, existing and gasping for breath.

As the Nord dressed himself he spoke. “Just out of idle curiosity, how long were you contemplating this little encounter? I mean it doesn’t seem that much of a leap of logic now, but, well you get the idea.”

She felt her face flush. “Well, not all too long. Clearly I am simply brighter than you.”

The Dragonborn gave her a long hard stare, clearly not believing a word of it. “Right, you get a ton of credit for determining that there’s less of your fat in the way from behind. Excuse me for not being fully aware of just how big you are.” The man sidled over, fully clothed again, and gave the middle roll of her belly a gentle nudge. “I mean, looking at this all day how could you not figure that out?”

She had to stifle a small giggle at the touch. Her vastness seemed to have led to a greatly increased sensitivity in her skin, and she was now shamefully ticklish. And Magnus knew it too, damn him.

The Nord hero backed up, giving her a polite half salute with a wave of his hand. “You take care now. Write me if you ever feel like talking, or something else.” He took a few steps away, but then paused and half turned back towards her. “And, I promise I’ll send some books or something to keep you busy.”

She smiled, somewhat to her own surprise, and nodded. “I would like that, yes. Perhaps you would be willing to send me that set of The Wolf Queen that you seemed so proud of? I never have had the opportunity to read that series.”

Magnus scowled momentarily. “I don’t know, I’m awfully proud of finally collecting all the books…” A smile replaced the grimace. “I’m kidding. I’ll get a courier to run them out to you. Try to have fun till then.”

The door closed, and she still found herself smiling. Oh by the nine she wasn’t starting to…

Whiterun: Jorrvaskr

Aela the ex-huntress lay back on her bed, just staring at the ceiling. As much ‘not her fault’ as this turn of fortune was, she couldn’t help but feel ashamed anyway. Which was in no way helped by the great fleshy mass rising into her field of vision without her even looking down. She poked at it, hardly believing that this flabby gut was actually hers. But, bed rest and unrelenting attention from Ria had made this happen. Not that she could counteract it very much with a bum knee.

Her door opened, immediately filled with a great shadow, and a voice followed. “Hello Aela, feeling any better today?”

She stifled a groan, if only not to get chewed out by Vilkas again. Practically any show of negativity on her part seemed to profoundly affect the other young woman. And since Vilkas was obviously sweet on her, Talos only knew why, that negativity blew back on her. So she suffered in silence, getting stuffed like a prize pig with pies, sweet-rolls, and other pastries. Odd as it was for her to complain about the content of her forced feasting, Ria seemed to constantly forget any kind of meat. Consequently her muscle mass had, for all practical purposes, turned to pudding.

She answered, carefully. “My knee doesn’t feel any better, no. But I feel fine otherwise.”

Ria acquired a beaming smile, which seemed to be her default, and honestly rather enviable, expression. But thoughts of envy were quickly dashed when she saw the cart that Ria was working on dragging into the room. “Working on,” because Ria was fat enough that navigating Jorrvakr’s doors was becoming problematic. Not that the young woman would say that, she assumed, or complain at all.

Ria eventually succeeded and brought the cart right up beside the bed before parking her wide backside in a highly protesting chair. “You could smile more. That helps everyone, you included.”

Just to humor the other woman she pasted a fake grin onto her face, seething on the inside as Ria picked up the first pie.

Solitude: Proudspire Manor

Serana made a mighty effort to focus on the words of the pages of the book in her hands (The Tale of the Dragonborn) to block out the chatter of the other “houseguests.” But try as she might, they kept making an effort to drag her into the hedonistic display. She had refused all of them of course. As a vampire she had no need of sustenance beyond blood. And “sustenance” was so far below what the other women in the house were at she felt almost sick just by watching.

She smirked to herself, as a thought occurred to her. “At least I won’t have trouble getting my own meal later. The cows will all be passed out soon.”

She didn’t usually dump that term on the non-vampires. It reminded her too much of how her father looked down on everything else, literally everything. She liked to think that she was a better person than that, but it seemed she had a bit more of her father in her than she would have liked to admit.

A voice called out to her, softly, and a good deal closer than the behemoths on the other side of the room. “Excuse me?”

She looked up, surprised by the politeness. “Eh? Who…”

A blonde-haired, fair-skinned Nord woman was standing there. Not nearly as large as the whales across the way, but the spherical boulder of a belly and bulging hips stretching the woman’s dress to the absolute limit said that she was obviously getting there. If she had to guess, she would say this woman was nobility. But, why in Oblivion was she debasing herself like this?

The blonde smiled lightly. “Hello, I just, I’m Elisif.” The Nord looked over at the hedonistic blobs. “I, realize that it looks, well, really bad. But, they really are nice people.” Another smile. “I thought that if someone gave you a more personal invitation you might at least come over and sit with us. I know I used to be on the outside looking in, all the time. I know it hurts, being alone.”

Anyone else, any of the other obese blobs cavorting around the table and she would have viciously told them off while flashing her fangs for dramatic effect. This one, whom she had only known the name of for all of five seconds, made the thought of doing so about as palatable as stabbing herself in the foot with a rusty dagger. Why did she feel guilty just by looking at this Elisif???

All but compelled, incredibly disconcerting since she was the vampire and was supposed to be doing this to others, she stood and followed the wobbling noblewoman over to the table.

Riften: Vex’s Manor

Vex found herself rather anxious for once. She’d gotten her way with the College of Winterhold, but considering the amount of coin she’d thrown their way she would have been astounded if they’d still said ‘no.’ No, she was anxious because the pile of books in front of her reached all the way up to her incredibly flabby chest. Even including the table the small mountain was stood upon it was an incredible ordeal of reading to surmount. Worse, she’d figured out the hard way that casting magic was almost as demanding on one’s energy as swinging a sword. And that revelation had set her brain into a storm of logistics of how she could manage to both study these tomes while keeping her magnificent expanse of a body. Difficulties and lack of sex aside she was still incredibly proud of herself. But…

The manor door burst open to admit the jiggling figure of Nivenor. The Dunmer had this curious look on her face, and was curiously silent as well apart from the great thudding made by the elf’s footsteps. Wordlessly, Nivenor circled the table and plopped her wide, flabby ass down onto a large cushion about two feet away from the edge of her own tree trunk-sized thighs. It was only then that Nivenor stopped moving enough for her to discern the detail that the elf was, crying? She didn’t know how to respond to that.

She waited, and waited some more, and eventually the Dunmer broke the uncomfortable silence. “I changed my mind about your offer. Make me as fat as you like, fatter than you. I don’t care anymore.”

She stated the obvious. “That’s, that’s a rather sudden swing of opinion.”

There was another long silence before Nivenor volunteered the rest. “I…” Fresh tears started dribbling down the Dunmer’s quivering face. “I, it’s Bolli. I, I killed him.” The elf cupped her face in her hands and started bawling. “We, we were making love and, and he insisted that I be on top, just for once. And, and I passed out! I’ve gotten so out of shape I fainted when it mattered the most!” A long bought of crying separated that confession from the next one. “The guards know it was an accident. One of them even cracked a joke about it. But that doesn’t change the fact that I killed the man I love, and he left me everything!”

Not being one who was really the emotional type, she had no idea how to handle this. She did know someone who could though…

Solitude: Proudspire Manor

Magnus the Dragonborn let out a long sigh as he climbed the steps of his home in Solitude. Whilst he did that he tried to make a mental count of the latest Thalmor hit squad. A cursory guess, more than twenty. But, a few well-placed Shouts and a deadric warhammer tended to even the odds fairly quickly. They had gotten him good with a few arrows, damnable things. He’d make sure to shoot them back next time. That would be quite poetic, yes? Probably, but not nearly as much fun as crashing through a Thalmor-owned fort and selling all of their Glass equipment for premium prices. That was how he had afforded Proudspire Manor in the first place.

He pushed the door open, and immediately his beast nose alerted him to the presence of multiple women. At this point he just rolled his eyes and smiled, doing nothing but eye them up as he moved into the dark of his home. The twins looked particularly good, though at this rate they wouldn’t fit through any of the manor’s doors. He wondered if that thought registered, at all, for anyone here. Jordis didn’t have to care, she hadn’t left the manor since he became Thane of Solitude. But everyone else, he knew that some of them were married. And he didn’t think their husbands would be all that impressed if those men woke up one morning to discover that their wives hadn’t come home because they’d gotten too fat to leave a different man’s house.

He paused in the gloom, a lingering smell hitting his nose. That, no, Elisif was here? The Jarl had been dragged into this circle of debauchery? He didn’t know whether to be further sorry for her, or if he should just lecherously sneak into the Blue Palace to see what figurative damage Jordis had wrought.

A sound hit him next, a light groan, from upstairs. This struck him for two reasons. One, none of the women who frequented Jordis’s little gatherings were in any condition to be climbing any more stairs than were absolutely necessary. Two, the particular pitch of this voice was identical to the voice of the person he had been summoned here to see.

He ascended, homing in on the continued moaning towards the bedroom. As predicted by his werewolf senses, Serana was there, lying on her side and cradling a stomach that would look more at home on a woman twelve months pregnant. It was a testament to the quality of the vampire’s dress that the fabric hadn’t split.

As dire as Serana might feel her current situation was, he could not resist the opportunity to needle her a little about it. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought vampires didn’t need anything but blood to survive.”

He received a less-than-intimidating death glare from the woman. “Shut up.”

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Magnus the Dragonborn meandered about, slowly making his eventual way towards Vlindrel Hall. He had not immediately returned to the Dawnguard, unsure how to explain to his temporary boss how exactly he had handled the situation in the crypt. He had needed time to think, and checking in with Elenwen was as good an excuse as any to drag his feet. Technically speaking anyway. He had still run here all the way from Solitude and beat another dragon to death along the road by complete happenstance.

As he mounted the steps towards his home he found himself blithely chuckling. “Wonder how that lady’s doing by now. Not able to leave the building for fear of blowing her cover…” He frowned as he reached the door. “I really should have left her some books or something.”

He opened the door to Vlindrel Hall, passing a characteristically laconic Argus on the way out, and entered the dwarven-inspired building. Nothing was immediately different, save a few items in slightly different positions which in all likelihood was attributable to the passage of time. None of it was serious, at least until he entered the main room.

He let out an involuntary whistle. “Damn…”

Elenwen immediately snapped back. “Now is that an exclamation of awe or disgust?”

It was a fair question. The elf’s gut had grown so much that it utterly dominated her form. And he chose “form” because Elenwen was looking less and less like someone with an actual body. From the front the Altmer was so wide that her thighs, themselves quite large if his memory served him correctly, were entirely buried beneath the golden, thrice-folded mound of her gut. From underneath it her feet only just stuck out, legs apparently splayed wide judging by their position. Elenwen’s breasts were covered by what once might have been a tablecloth, tied like a crude apron/bib.

He answered. “Well, if you’ve heard any of the rampant gossip about me you would know it to be awe.”

Elenwen’s face, a considerably rounder one than he remembered, twisted up onto a smirk. “There are rumors about you? My, now I wish I could leave this house without risking my neck. And awe you say? Tell me, why awe? I have not, obviously heard these rumors.”

He walked over and took a seat on the steps to the bedroom, coincidentally right next to the elf’s oozing bulk. “Since you asked so nicely.” He paused for a moment to phrase his words properly. “Apparently word has gotten out that I like women of considerable size. One of the mages at the College was the first to make me aware of that.”

A silence descended, until the Altmer broke it. “And, just how large are you talking about?”

He looked up at the elf, a rakish grin on his face. “Now why would you be curious about that?”

Elenwen’s pudgy, globular cheeks flushed red. “Well, I, *ahem*, I simply, *cough* wished to ascertain the, eh, extent of your, proclivities.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “And, you would want to know because…?”

The elf’s mouth started moving, but no words came out. After a long and incredibly awkward silence Elenwen promptly snapped her jaw shut. Amusingly, that action caused her jowls to wiggle about for a moment.

Twisting the metaphorical knife, he kept talking. “Elenwen, are you trying to flirt with me?”

The Altmer sputtered for a second, but eventually started talking. “Well, I don’t really get to talk with anyone else. Your housecarl is about as talkative as a doornail, and I…” A long moment passed. “I guess that makes me a little bit dependent.”

He smirked lightly. “Yeah, I suppose that’s not exactly fair.” He paused momentarily. “You, ah, you sure that leads to a sex proposition? Not exactly the move of a diplomat is it?”

Elenwen acquired a rather peeved look. “Former diplomat or not I am still a woman. I can share my bed, eh, lie with, uhm, sleep with whoever I damn well please. And by the nine I could do worse than solicit sex from the Dragonborn himself.”

He nodded thoughtfully smirking at the mention of his title. “Ok, I’ll grant you that. But ah…” He gave the immobile elf a vertical once-over with his eyes. “I hope you have a plan for it. Because as much as I might have considered this very possibility I still haven’t the foggiest idea of how it’s going to physically work. And no offense, but I have no intention of getting smothered.”

The former Thalmor managed a haughty look. “I do indeed have a plan, and it’s a simple and direct one that I think you’ll appreciate.”

He smirked. “Simple and direct?’ Are you implying that I’m simple?”

Elenwen fumed. “Just get over here and do me.”

He stood up and mock saluted. “Yes ma’am, immediately ma’am!”

Winterhold: Archmage’s Chambers

Nirya slowly reread the letter in front of her, idly devouring her second pie of the hour; mulberry, decadently encrusted with sugar. As head wizard, hollow title it might be, answering this was her responsibility. And usually, normal people couldn’t just make requests of the College like this. Then again, normal people also didn’t usually offer such an exorbitant fee entirely of their own volition to pay for said request. Considering the content, it was almost a trivial matter. But that was ultimately the choice of the wizard the client was requesting tutelage from. And she doubted Tolfdir would be keen on hiking all the way to Riften to teach someone every week. And she could sympathize. The man was getting very up there in years. But this fee, maybe she could use the idea of the greater good of the College to sway the old man…

The door from the Hall below opened, depositing a sweaty, panting Brelyna in the room. “Ugh, I hate stairs. And why are they so narrow here?”

She smartly remarked. “A question a good deal more pressing for me than for you, child.”

It was a valid point. Because while the young Dunmer was in the area of three hundred pounds, roughly, heavier the spread of Brelyna’s hips was far more manageable considering the narrowness of the College’s halls and doorways. J’zargo’s feather spell might have made it feasible for her to walk about without too much difficulty, but it did not make it any easier to squeeze through any of the numerous mentioned doors. Even shimmying through sideways was a nearly impossible task due to the bulk of her belly and the sheer aft-ward expanse of her ass. Neither of which had shrunk, since Faralda had apparently made it a personal mission to make her the fattest elf in the building. She could have resisted, said no, but it felt good to be pampered; stuffed to capacity at almost all hours of the day.

She resumed speech. “What is it, Apprentice? Surely you didn’t make this climb for the exercise.”

After a long interlude of huffing and puffing, belly heaving like the bellows of a forge, the apprentice spoke. “No, no of course not. I, I heard about this proposition we received and I think I know how we can make it work.”

Her left eyebrow twitched upwards. “Oh? And just how do you propose we ‘make it work’ without sending our only alteration master on a cross-country journey every week?”

Brelyna hesitated before airing her idea. “I, well I was just figuring that we send someone else in Tolfdir’s stead. Onmund has been studying alteration quite a lot lately and uh…”

A smarmy smirk lit up her face. “And, is there a reason Onmund isn’t proposing this idea to me himself?”

The young Dunmer blushed. “Well, he doesn’t exactly know that I’ve thought it up.”

After a moment of that thought sinking in she started smiling. “Well, aren’t you the dutiful little girlfriend.” A moment longer passed. “I’ll think about it. That’s all I can say right now. Maybe I’ll talk with Tolfdir, see how adept your boyfriend is.”

Brelyna nodded vigorously. “Please do. I, I’m sure he won’t let you down.” The Dunmer started lumbering away, but paused at the top of the stairs. “Oh I am so not looking forward to this.”

She hesitated for a moment, and started smirking. “If you want to wait around till you, *ahem*, get your second wind, I’m rather curious just how much food you can put away. You are the largest, eh, woman in the area. I wonder how much of that is attributable to your own effort, so to speak.”

The younger elf seemed hesitant, but that hesitation apparently paled before the prospect of immediately going back down the stairs.


Serana tilted her head back, gazing up through the pouring rain towards the building the locals called Proudspire Manor. It was an impressive structure, sure, but so much so that it was synonymous with pride itself? She wasn’t so sure of that. But to be fair, she did have a bit of perspective that the locals lacked.

Regardless though, Magnus had said to come here to get in touch with him. And like it or not she needed his help. Her father was mad, insane, all of those words. She could never just have a family like she had wanted. How Magnus could help her with this she really didn’t know, but it would be very stupid of her to turn away the help of a dragon-slaying one-man-army when it had ben offered out of the goodness of his heart. After all, most people thought ‘vampire’ and immediately jumped to “kill it.” Not only had Magnus had more than ample opportunity to do so to her with impunity, not that she harbored delusions that she could match a man with the power of the Voice, but he had even gone along with her admittedly incredibly naïve plan of going home to the arms of the man her mother had sealed her into a box to get away from. The gods only knew to what lengths her mother had gone to flee herself.

She let out a long sigh. “Well, I guess that’s one of the things I can hope to find out.” She walked up the water-slick stairs and put some serious force behind her knock. “Hello? I’m looking for Magnus.”

By virtue of her unnatural senses she heard someone living moving about inside. So she waited, acknowledging silently to herself that whoever was in there was taking a damn long time to get to the door. Quite rude that was, but she hadn’t slept for several millennia in a stone box to go mad over a few wasted seconds on a doorstep. She supposed she could just try and see if the door was unlocked, but who in their right mind would leave their door open to the whole city? Thieves would make off with everything that wasn’t nailed down inside the hour.

She tried the door, and found it unlocked. “Oh… well, how about that then.”

A woman’s voice exuded from the dim interior. “Oh by the Nine, I go through the effort of getting up and you just walk in? How do you get off just barging into…” The speaker walked into view. “… Oh, oh I’m sorry I thought you were someone else.”

The speaker was a red-haired Nord woman. That was the summation. Details included, a Nord woman of utterly incredible girth. Barely clothed in a bra and what looked to be a sheet twisted up to act as a skirt, this woman had to be easily pushing eight to nine hundred pounds. Each breast alone must have been at least fifty, not to mention that they were the bigger than prize pumpkins. Completing the extremely exaggerated hourglass-shape, the woman’s hips, and she would assume ass, spread so wide to either side it was a feat that this Nord wasn’t knocking over everything in the house by accident.

She cleared her throat. “I, didn’t know Magnus had a wife. I’m sorry for…”

The obese woman interrupted. “What? No! No, no, no, I’m not his wife. I’m just his, ah, technically his housecarl.” Face flushing red for a moment the other woman looked down slightly. “Ah, well, not that I would object to, never mind.” The Nord cleared her throat. “You were, you mentioned you were looking for Magnus?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes. He mentioned that if I needed to get in touch with him to come here, that his housecarl would know how to get ahold of him.” She frowned and paused for a beat. “I suppose that’s you.”

The Nord flushed red again. “Er, yes, yes that is me.”
Her scowl deepened. “Excuse me if I sound rude, but how exactly do you protect anything of his when you can only just waddle around? I could have been a thief and just walked in and out with whatever I pleased. Unless the definition of ‘housecarl’ has changed quite a bit since I last checked.”

The redhead drew herself up indignantly. “If you were a thief, and if you did walk out with something of Magnus’s, you would be dead before you left the city. My thane has some, darker connections that make sure his residences are kept theft free.”

She just cocked an eyebrow at that. Magnus was connected to the Thieves Guild? Really? The giant Nord barbarian walking around in deadric armor with a giant maul? Granted his steps had seemed unusually quiet for someone in that much armor but… Maybe he just kept the guild on the payroll?

She disregarded the comment. “Well, can you get in touch with him or not?”

The other woman responded with a glare. “I can. What do you want me to say?”

After half a second of deliberation she answered. “Just mention that Serana is taking him up on the offer of, help.”


United States
I like to picture myself as a quasi noble knight, the kind that does the right thing, but my own way. That's Chaotic Good for you DnD fans.

Personal Quote: I'm going to be me. If you don't like that, F*** Off.

Well, since my Overlord fanfictions are receiving a certain lack of traffic I have come to the conclusion that they would be best left to

Any further Overlord crossovers will be published by myself on that website under my pen-name Omega Overlord. Look me up.

  • Mood: Furious
  • Listening to: Metal
  • Reading: Art of War
  • Watching: MLP
  • Playing: Asura's Wrath
  • Eating: Sandwitch
  • Drinking: Vodka

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Add a Comment:
skulls200 Featured By Owner Aug 7, 2015
Hey doom knight has the artist got back to u about creating the comic
DOOM-Knight009 Featured By Owner Aug 7, 2015
No, not a peep
skulls200 Featured By Owner Aug 8, 2015
Do you want me to contact them
DOOM-Knight009 Featured By Owner Aug 9, 2015
No, if they decided it was too much work then I'm not really interested anyway.
skulls200 Featured By Owner Jul 28, 2015
Hey doom knight has the artist I found agreed to turn your story into a comic and when and where will it be available cuz I really want to have a look
DOOM-Knight009 Featured By Owner Jul 28, 2015
They are looking over my current material and are going to give me an estimate on total cost.
skulls200 Featured By Owner Jul 29, 2015
ok are you gonna put it out or are they and will it be free this thing is gonna be awesome
DOOM-Knight009 Featured By Owner Jul 29, 2015
Depends on the price tag.
skulls200 Featured By Owner Jul 17, 2015
Hey doom knight you should totaly get your burdens of skyrim transferred into a comic I'm sure one of the other amazing deviants who draw the kind of things you write if you know what I'm saying would gladly help you plus It would be amazing to be able to see the vastness if elenwens majestic body
DOOM-Knight009 Featured By Owner Jul 17, 2015
If you know someone willing to do it, pro bono, I would love to hear it.
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