#fat!freyr

Askr's Order of Heroes enjoying a now endless summer, the revelry continues to increase throughout the weeks just as the heroes' waistlines. Heroes summoned from the beginning of the Order's creation to those summoned during the current reigning peace partake in the merriment alike. No hero quite forced into enjoying themselves and their time, the bit of nudging from the food's addictive nature and decreased metabolism only strengthens the feeling laying dormant inside a hero, one particular new recruit is completely absorbed in enjoying themselves to the fullest.

The King of dreams, Freyr, appears nothing like he once used to. The God who governs dreams appears to be enjoying his own blissful, hedonistic dream. Never having eaten a morsel of human food in his entirety of living, he more than makes up for it now, Freyr having eaten more food in his short time of being summoned to Askr than any  human could possibly imagine in their lifetimes.

Absolutely corpulent, Freyr's overwhelming fatness is enough to put even whales to shame. Unable to move unlike a whale, Freyr's size is simply from pure, unabashed hedonism. So content and obsessed with stuffing his face with the divine delicacies produced by humans, his ballooning waistline had been of zero importance to him. It still is, what with his ever ongoing display of wanton gluttony. Immobile several millions of calories ago, Freyr's current appetite is enough to put the entire Order to shame. Far more than even a dozen times over. Unable to get up and move around, the same is true for the entirety of Freyr's castle crushing weight. His hands and feet are gone in their entirety. They're absorbed and smothered under the enormity of his weight. The near same is true for even his head with his numerous flabby back rolls and engorged cheeks. An overly ridiculous amount of fat is caked all over his blubbery, rotund form. His appendages are just as useless as the rest of his bloated body. In a constant euphoric dreamlike state, Freyr has no need to do anything besides enjoying himself. Especially with the aid of the summoner. Kiran perfectly willing in enabling the perpetuation of Freyr's overconsumption, the summoner is able to at least transport Freyr from place to place through magic. Albeit at an increasingly concerning amount of magical and physical strain on Kiran's part with so much required to move the meaty mountain that is Freyr. And at the cost of creating more monumental goat sized craters throughout Zenith with every transportation. Not that anyone is able to tell that Freyr is a goat. His once magnificent horns appear to be nothing more than sad little stubs on the overflowing stack of pancakes of a man. Not like most would even be able to discern Freyr as a human either, the man more akin to a gelatinous blob. Completely nude, all people get upon the sight of Freyr is a staggeringly wide wall of blubber. Clothes had been forwent long ago. Not that anyone could remember; Freyr's sheer weight alone is more concerning for everyone else. All his fancy adornments are no more. His bright lei had been torn asunder from his several chin folds and doughy neck. His pristine white shawl had fallen off from his melon breasts and ample back tore the strap. His gold bracelets snapped in half by his overburdened arms and calves. And his flowing lower garments which grew too tight for his widened rear and hips. Clothes too much of a hassle back then, the time and material needed to clothe Freyr now makes a shirt back then seem like an expert working on a simple scarf.

The beach no longer suitable for Freyr, what with the sun's heat combined with his own overabundant body heat, Kiran had brought him to Nifl. The icy cold region suits him perfectly. A nice freezing temperature provided year-round, the nice cooling helps keep him from feeling like a furnace about to explode all the time. Nifl also a rather sparsely populated country, Kiran had moved him to the absolute most desolate place. It had taken a modicum of convincing on Kiran's part at first, Freyr unwilling to hide his splendor and immensity from humans. Until Kiran cajoled him throughout several talks, reminding him that his enormity can be seen from those all around him from great, vast distances and that the move was only to ensure him a proper space to grow comfortably. Freyr large enough to fill up and destroy the entirety of Askr castle from his abundant acres of adipose back when he had first been magically transported to Nifl, his efforts in simply grazing and lazing worked wonders on his body, Freyr now large enough to occupy Nohr's Castle Krakenburg and even the entirety of Windmire and then some. His frame towering just as imposingly as it spreads, the great, mountainous man is indeed visible despite residing weeks from the nearest inhabitable place. His own size indeed a great issue, the amount of food required to merely keep Freyr fed, much less the food necessary to ensure his continual growth, is also another concern with regards to space. The summoner able to find another spell to aid with just that, a small portal floats above his face. His feeding tube comes out one end of it, the other end coming out another portal somewhere in Askr. The contraption alone is the size of a castle, such great quantities of food needed to feed Freyr and Freyr alone. Speaking of food, giving him enough complete meals to satisfy his hunger is completely out of the question. Instead, his feeding tube houses a mixture that Freyr can never quite place. Some days, he tastes an arrangement of the most cloyingly sweet desserts paired with an assortment of decadent toppings. Other days, an impossibly wide array of spicy yet savory dishes enter his mouth. And on even more days, the mixture changes throughout the day, his taste buds never left unsatisfied with the selection. Though such a thing is impossible with Freyr simply caring about stuffing his gullet. Freyr currently devours away at his unending torrent of food with the same fervor he always does.

His growth still occurs at a rapid pace, hundreds of pounds slathered onto his elephantine body daily. But at such a prodigal girth as extraordinary as Freyr's, the extra few hundreds is nothing but a pathetic drop of blubber into the oceanic bucket of lard that he is. Completely unrecognizable as even a human figure at this point, a passing semblance lost tons and tons of weight ago, his stomach puts even the largest of doomsday dragons several heroes once faced. His soft, flabby expanse of lard oozes and flows forward in all directions. His mountainous stomach spreads for miles as far as anyone could see, his expansive pale blubber blanketing the snowy landscape as it takes up the area in its need for more room. Rivers for love handles jut out the side of his mountain of a gut, the ginormous rolls of flab melding into an indiscernible shape. The upper roll of his gut lurches forward onto the lower valley filling slab of fat that is the lower half of his gut. Or what can be construed as it, Freyr's towering body hard to discern. His cavernous navel is in a constant state of twilight from the overhang, the space reminiscent of a black hole. His enormous breasts remain flopped on his great cushiony gut. Freyr's own corpulence the only thing able to rival itself in terms of sheer size, the two titanic tits take up a sizable, meaty portion of his stomach. Each breath alone can crush the entirety of Daein Keep alone. The bright pink hue of his areola is the only real demarcation of his breasts, the sagging tits even managing to mesh together with his mound of a gut. Above his gut is Freyr's unfathomably high amount of neck rolls and chins that simply crash upon one another to form a ringlet of uncountable rolls. Freyr's ass surges out behind him. The tremendous ass cheeks splay out further than even the Mila Tree's canopy. Freyr's ass and gut take up the most space of himself, both assets spreading wherever they please unlike his bloated, sunken appendages. Not that there is much distinction between his ass and gut, both absolutely massive piles of blubber with little shape to speak of. His back is riddled with hundreds of soft plush rolls. His legs useless several hundreds of feasts ago, the two oceanic thighs are bunched up together in a mockery of what a leg should be, rolls upon rings of fat smothering one another to make up a leg. The same is true for his arms, dozens of rings of fat making up his arms uselessly splayed to the side from his uncountable plush love handles. Freyr's cheeks occupy an even greater amount of space than his head, the bulbous mounds of fat splaying out to the sides of his face even as it takes up most of said face. And yet, even at such an inconceivable size, Freyr simply needs more. He craves it. To eat and grow to the absolute inordinately massive that he can possibly be.

The telltale sound of a ripple sounding out, Freyr nearly misses it over the crashing pleasant torrent of his muffled moans from his eating. Knowing what is to come, his monstrous guzzling somehow becomes even more fervorent. A figure comes out of the portal and steps onto Freyr's corpulence.

Kiran is merely the molehill to Freyr's mountain. Yet, even such a comparison is far too diminutive of Freyr's grandeur, Kiran neither even being an anthill, merely an ant in the presence of someone as monumentally fat as Freyr. Always visiting daily to check upon his process, Kiran's next action is not done so often. He closes the portal housing Freyr's feeding tube, the colossal man going without food for more than a second for the first time in weeks.

Freyr's eyes are constantly closed now just as they were when he was once thin and fit, an image hard for those to imagine with his size being what it is now. Able to more easily attune himself to the dreams of others with his eyes closed, he keeps them closed for his own dreams. Dreams of the future. Dreams of living as the god he ought to. Of nothing more than to simply eat and grow. To further display his greatness for all humans to see and awe. To tower over them in immensity and power. Of growing so immensely fat that even the mortal realm will be unable to withstand his divine corpulence and returning back to Ljósálfheimr only to continue eating and growing with the aid of his realm's infinitely expanding space. With his treasured human who benevolently offered unto him the knowledge of human delicacies and set him upon this path.

And so, he opens his eyes as his most loyal devotee rests comfortably atop him. It is only right for him to offer such a pleasure to a mere mortal. For despite the summoner's abilities, that is all he is in comparison to one as great as he. A delicate human before a god. His own titanic waves of lard fills up the near entirety of his vision. The fat from his waves of back fat folding on up to his face just as his greatly stuffed cheeks do.  The only break to the monotonous view of his pale blubber is the summoner's face peering down at his sunken face.

"Kiran…" Freyr's deep rich voice is magnified from all his fat pressing down on him. His luscious mannerism in speaking in a near hazy drawn out whisper is magnified as well, speaking a time and energy consuming task at his monumental size.

A relaxed smile on his face, Kiran allows himself to rest a ginger hand on Freyr's cheek. Unable to lift a single cheek with even both hands, he merely pinches at the plush malleable lard. His eyes never once leave Freyr's own. Keeping them fully open is also too taxing of a task for Freyr. Instead, they remain half lidded. Kiran's hands explore only the near perimeter of Freyr's face. Enough rolls on his expansive lard, Kiran could spend hours simply exploring such a small section of Freyr's corpulence. Freyr's churning stomach is a turbulent, raucous machine with its tremor like desperate growls. Freyr's taxed wheezing mixes in, the two filling in for the silence. Freyr's slight moans trickle in as Kiran's hands wander off towards Freyr's horns, his delicate hands wrapping around and rubbing the tip of them.

"Hnnn… Kiran…" Unable to even squirm from the touching, every single part of Freyr immovable, he remains still as the red tinge of blush on his face deepens and darkens.

"I am here to serve you," Kiran drapes himself over Freyr's enormity, one hand never leaving Freyr's horns. "Whatever you may wish for, I will perform," Kiran's smile widens as Freyr's black hole for a stomach seems to respond to the thinly veiled offer, Kiran always being like this whenever he has come to increase Freyr's intake of food.

"Haah, so hungry,,, I hnngh-require food," Freyr wheezes from a mere sentence, the energy required of him to do anything a foreign concept now. "Much more hah food,,,"

"Of course," Kiran reactivates the portal spell. A bright iridescent blue portal appears above Freyr's face. A ripple in the sky, Kiran reaches his hand inside it and rummages around. Grabbing the thick wide tube, he drags it out of the portal.

"Wait,,," Freyr slowly croaks out right before Kiran brings his feast of a snack to his lips. His stomach wrenches in pangs of hunger at the tantalizing offer of food dangling right in front of his face. "I shall haah have you stay,,," His bloated face puffs out in exertion. It is only fair to offer such a devoted human such a great right of basking in his presence.

Kiran's face softens. "Of course," They respond as if asked to hand over an item, not remaining atop an inconceivably obese and growing man. "Now, I mustn't keep you waiting much longer," With no interruption on either end, Kiran slots Freyr's feeding tube back inside his mouth. Freyr begins guzzling away at it before Kiran even activates it. Kiran huffs in amusement before activating Freyr's feeding machine.

"You deserve to grow as big as you wish. And I would be delighted to remain by your side as you do,"

"I've got some new roommates for y'all," Kiran barges through his own door to his room, a spring in his step as he makes his announcement.

The receivers of Kiran's news remain seated even as he rushes towards them. Though they have little choice in the say, unable to get up long ago. Kiran's summoner supported heroes are far different from their once normal size. The heroes are absolutely diminutive, Grima, Tibarn, and Corrin shrunken quite some time ago. While the three had been varying degrees of pudgy back when their heights were normal, the already portly heroes had been forced copious amounts of food. At least relative to their pocket-sized figures, a meager morsel of snacks far more than adequate to fill up their gullets and more.

Kiran suddenly able to summoner support even more heroes, his decision had been immediate. He formed a support with all three of Seteth, Freyr, and Duma only a few moments after the discovery. Spending time with them to strengthen his bonds, his next decision upon reaching an S rank had been acted upon just as swiftly as his decision to support them. Deciding to have them meet his original summoner supports, Kiran had shrunk the three down as well.

Seteth squirms in Kiran's hand; the tiny, green haired man is easily overpowered simply by Kiran's gentle grip. The world of Zenith a strange place, even Seteth had never expected quite such a strange sudden occurrence. Summoned after Kiran's initial supports, he had no idea that such a thing even existed right until he had been promptly shrunken down after Kiran's confession to him. Seteth's figure has a new bit of heft from his time with Kiran. His flat stomach is now a paunch; the small, chubby belly is incomparable to the others, however. His belt is no longer nipped at the waist to help accommodate for the extra bit of plushness to his body. His buttons are slightly strained from the small mass of fat, but his appearance is overall the same minus his new miniature body. Held in Kiran's hand, Seteth's entire body is firmly yet carefully wrapped by the summoner's digits. He huffs in frustration, unable to move at all.

Freyr in Kiran's other hand, the dream-king maintains a complete sense of composure. Dreams a possible portal of insight to the future, the weft and weave of the summoner's fate was impossible to fully predict with all its interlinked intricacies of multiple universes. Though he had seen even this possibility, such off shoot opportunities all seen by Freyr. But even he could not imagine that Kiran would follow through with such a miniscule possibility, his tiny body now resembles such odds. Rather portly, his gut rests in his lap as he serenely sits in the summoner's open palm. Wearing much less clothes than usual, the lower half of his pristine, white garment drapes over his lower half. The slit of it exposes most of his thick left leg. An array of gold jewelry is overlaid his upper body.. A strip of fabric is draped over his right shoulder, his doughy onset of a chest covered alongside most of his arm. He has a gold bracelet on both arms and legs, a gold strap holding his shawl in place. Though his bit of flab is slightly squeezed by all the metal adornments.

Right next to Freyr in Kiran's open palm is Duma. Too everyone's surprise, Kiran included, the divine dragon takes the change in stride. Or moderate stride, considering his immense pride and ego. With a deep scowl on his face and crossed arms, Duma's dissatisfaction is something he doesn't act upon. Duma can at least understand when he is unable to do much. But he is far from pleased with the situation. As he stews in his anger, Duma grimaces while he looks down at himself. All of Duma's armor is now gone. The ornate gold could still be worn back when he used to be 6'6", even with the added heft from his chubby figure, but simply wearing his clothes underneath his armor made things much easier. So now, all Duma wears is his black mockneck — a typical outfit due to Rigel's harsh cold — and a pair of thick pants more akin to leggings than anything. Duma's clothes are filled out nicely by mostly muscle. The miniature dragon still holds a beefy, muscular body. He just now has a small layer of flab to accompany his now miniature figure.

"And here we are," Careful to not raise his voice too much, lest he hurt the tiny heroes' eardrums. Kiran brims with contentment, his chest puffed out as he places Seteth, Freyr, and Duma down.

Grima, Tibarn, and Corrin having originally been placed on Kiran's desk, the small wooden space had become a tad bit too confining for their growing bodies. Rather than cutting back on feeding them, Kiran had made the easy decision to upsize their space and gave them a whole king mattress to relax on. However, the once ample room is no longer as plentiful as it once was; Kiran already plans another upsizing to help with the addition of three more tiny heroes. Though the astonishing weight of the current inhabitants plays a bigger part of the issue of space.

Three hundred pounds sounding like a low-ball on Tibarn's weight back when he was an adonis of a man, the current two hundred or so pounds on his miniature frame leaves him as nothing more than a completely butterball. His fat, blubbery thighs and ass give him some extra height as he sits down. Though his great, wide gut surges out far in front of him, his cherubic face obscured from the other's sights. The sandy skin causes the mattress to sag, the overfilled gut surging out fat from where Tibarn’s face is. His overstuffed breasts and arms rest atop his gut, giving him somewhat of a shape. Albeit the shape of bunches of lard stacked on itself. Unable to move on his own dozens of pounds ago, his wings serve the same exact purpose as the rest of his body. None. His backside is littered with an abundance of backrolls, they seep on down to his ass, the two overstuffed buttocks lacking a semblance of shape. His once great wings even seem laughably small, what with his doughy back spreading out farther than them to contain so much mass in such a tiny, compact form. Only able to give them the occasional flap before tuckering himself out, Tibarn's wings remain nothing more than an adornment. His hands stuck in the same situation, the sausagey digits are mostly sunken into the billowing fat of his arms. His thighs have the same effect on his legs. Unable to do anything besides eating, Kiran had embraced it, feeding Tibarn non-stop. Thankfully, even at such a titanic weight for his size, the cost effective nature of it means that Kiran only has to feed Tibarn around the same amount of food as a regular person. A feeding tube is permanently affixed to his mouth. The tube is nothing more than a straw. Kiran has a jar holding some liquid attached to it, the substance forced down Tibarn's throat during every waking moment and even during each sleeping moment. Though Kiran guesses it isn't all that forced as it once was with a few moans escaping Tibarn every once in a while.

"Kiran!" Seteth shouts at the top of his lungs but the impassioned yell that comes out is more akin to an adorable squeak. "I demand you change us all back! Such depraved inanity is ill-befitting of you!" Craning his neck to stare directly at Kiran's face, Seteth holds his glare.

Duma makes zero demands. Duma is seated, his neck straining to look up at the towering Kiran in front of him. Duma is completely silent. He refuses to debase himself by begging, even if he knows Kiran can easily revert his situation and the others with a simple action. So he simply waits for an opportunity, not that expects one to happen.He smirks at Seteth’s actions, the lesser dragon only making himself an easier and louder target.

Freyr remains impassive at the sight, this too a foreseen possibility involved in his glimpses into Kiran's future. But he figures calling it a possibility is a mistake, this path now one set in stone just like his own future that'll soon follow the same path. No real danger or harm coming out of said visions, the same lack of threat present in all other now debunked possible futures, he has no reason to fear or be concerned. Even as Seteth implores Kiran, Freyr maintains neutrality from knowing that such a possibility of Kiran giving in doesn't exist.  

“I presume you two understand the sheer ridiculousness of this?” Seteth abruptly turns to Duma and Freyr. Kiran refusing to budge, a cheery smile stuck to his face as Seteth argues, Seteth turns to the only possible help he has. “And the violations of our own agency to do this against our will,”

“To speak of agency when all of us are ultimately bound to a contract is fruitless. I have seen the rifts of fate and while we can shape what comes next, know that there is nothing to be done about the current predicament we find ourselves in. Though regardless of our actions, no harm shall befall any of us,” Figuring anymore is pointless, Freyr sits down.

Bewildered, Seteth’s mouth is agape for a few fleeting moments. One last hope left, he expectantly looks at Duma.

“Hmph,” Duma crosses his arms, his biceps bulging against each other. “There is nothing to be done, the weak have no right to make demands from those stronger than them,” Duma’s lips tighten. The veins on his biceps seem more prominent as they press more tightly against each other. 

“See, they get it,” Kiran extends a hand. He pats Freyr’s head with his index finger. He hands him a small piece of chocolate, the tiny portion filling up Freyr’s entire lap. Freyr nibbles at it, slowly chipping away at the chocolate with zero care. Kiran passes a similar chocolate to Duma who ignores the snack that is so gigantic next to him.

“Well,” Seteth straightens his outfit with an indignant huff. “If no one is going to help me, I am going to resolve this some other way then,” Walking off, he only manages a sad three paces before Kiran grabs him by the collar of his shirt.

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” He fails to stifle the small burst of laughter. “You just gotta relax and enjoy yourself,” Placing Seteth back down, Kiran knocks him down with a mere tap on his stomach. Holding him in place with his thumb, he rummages around with his free hand. “You shouldn’t be as big a problem as Tibarn since you don’t have any wings, but better to be safe than to be sorry,” Kiran grabs a clear plastic tupperware to place on the bed. He then plops down Seteth right in the middle of it. “You gotta be kept in here ‘till you come around. Or you can’t move either works,” A cheerful smile remains on his face throughout the entirety; Kiran has zero ounce of malice despite detaining Seteth. “Tibarn’s always been unruly and since he can fly,,, Well, you get what I mean,”

Seteth pounds away at the plastic holding him back, the tupperware refusing to budge an inch. He continues this for some time even as the only thing that changes is his increasingly tired state.

“It won’t be so bad. Even he gets a kick out of it now. And Grima didn’t need convincing at all,” Kiran points to another miniature blob for a person.

Where Tibarn could somewhat be claimed to have the barest passing of a person, Grima has none of that. Fat simply billows out in all directions it can. His feet and hands are completely smothered under dozens of rolls of ringed fat that meld into one another. Not that there is any need for his appendages, Grima only requiring his mouth to obtain sustenance. The pale blubber of his arms and legs ooze out on the sides, the massively wide limbs stuck on top of his jutting handles and stuck below his mammontine thighs respectively. His gut alone takes up nearly half the width of the mattress’, the humongous stomach stuffed with so much lard. An abundance of rolls line the entirety of it, slabs of fat making up his rolls that only stack on top of each other in a pathetic attempt of fighting for space. His overtaxed ass cheeks take up the other half of the mattress’ width. Lumpy rolls litter his backside just as it does his front. His breasts remain affixed to his great stomach, the two plush piles of pudge oozing out on top of it. Grima’s face is obscured from all of his billowing fat. Though his fat pair of cheeks and seeping rolls of backfat don’t help either. A straw permanently attached to his mouth as well, it leads to a different container from Tibarn’s. The liquid sloshes violently as Grima voraciously drinks away, the only sounds coming from him besides his gurgling gut being his huffing and moaning.

“I think he just likes being the biggest but I don’t mind,” Kiran gazes fondly at Grima. “Anyways, back to you,” He peers down at Seteth.

“Surely your time would be better spent managing Grima and Tibarn!” Seteth stammers out in panic. "You must have your hands full just taking care of just the two of them!"

"Fool. You have the audacity to pointlessly struggle without knowing the situation," Duma’s bit of chocolate has only a few bites taken out of it. Though even those few bites are a lot for his shrunken figure, his paunch a little bit more distended.

"There are three of them," Freyr chimes in addition. His chocolate completely gone, a few huffs escape his lips. His soft jiggly tummy is marginally firmer, the doughy flabby pudge has some resistance as Kiran pokes it.

"Yup. I knew you'd have pieced things together," Another pat offered to Freyr's head, Kiran hands him a single saltine cracker. "Eat up!" Appreciating Freyr’s complacency, Kiran keeps an eye on the much more silent Duma. He doesn’t expect Duma to attempt anything, so he simply allows him to do as he pleases so long as he doesn’t act up.

Getting tired of the situation, Seteth speaks up. "Don't tell me, he's even bigger than the other two or something?" He scoffs in frustration as he takes a seat.

"Hmm? Oh no. Corrin, come on out!" Kiran calls for him, expectantly waiting. Originally hiding behind the masses of fat that Tibarn and Grima are due to the sudden arrival of extra guests, Corrin peers his head out from behind Tibarn's lard. "Oh, no need to be afraid, you can't possibly hurt anyone at your size," Kiran beckoning Corrin forward, he does so upon the light soothing.

Far from the shapeless stack of pancakes like the other two, Corrin is still mobile —albeit at the near cusp of immobility. His great plush lard jutting out in all directions, his clothes are in complete tatters. His waterfall of a gut sags on down to nearly touch the floor even as he stands, the sagging fat reaching all the way down to his calves. His thighs are thicker than Seteth twice over; the blubbery cylinders for legs are stuck to one another. His arms rest at an angle from his plush love handles that jut out form the sides of his fatty stomach. His ass juts out from behind him, the sagging mounds of fat obtaining a squarish shape due to the pounds upon pounds of lard crammed inside his rear. His chest somehow maintains a sense of shape, the two soft, plush breasts not quite sagging as the rest of his corpulent frame. His face is absolutely round. His cheeks puff out as he slowly begins his waddle forward. His entire frame wobbles with each precarious step forward. Slower than molasses, he has to carefully swing his legs to the side for each step with his massive gut in the way. And even then, the meaty flab slaps against his thighs. Every single portion of his doughy figure is jostled from every arduous step he takes, fat slapping into fat. A couple of steps is always followed by a pause and a bundle of wheezes and pants. His draconic tail that once was always in the air now simply is dragged behind him, Corrin's extra appendage even a bit heftier from his weight.

"Come on, just a little closer," Kiran coos. "Then you can have some nice refreshing treats,"

Corrin lazily nods his head, his chins and necks mushing together.

Seteth not as shocked upon Corrin's size as Grima's or Tibarn's, he still remains flabbergasted from the sheer sight of seeing such a massive man still able to walk despite Corrin's pathetic lethargy. His shock slowly vanishes as Corrin plops his obese self down in between Freyr and Duma.

"I knew you still had it in you," Kiran ruffles Corrin's silvery mop of hair. He places a large cup right besides Corrin, in front of him too far away with his gut in the way. A scoop of strawberry ice cream inside, Kiran also hands Corrin a teensy spoon. "Something to cool you down," He also hands Freyr a spoon who promptly goes to stand beside it and dig in as well. Although he takes smaller, more restrained bites whereas Corrin grabs and eats as fast as his fat arms allow him to. Duma still takes small bites of his half eaten chocolate.

"So, anyways, I already got three to look after, doubling up won't hurt one bit. And I especially don't mind looking after you," Unwilling to wait any longer, he places a slice of cake inside the tupperware. A regularly sized piece of carrot cake next to Seteth, the cake completely dwarfs him. "Now, make sure you finish every last bit!" Kiran stands up. Stretching his back a bit, he heads off somewhere else.

Seteth's little tummy grumbles; he stares at the slice of cake. Having skipped breakfast due to Kiran’s insistence on needing to speak with him, Seteth can feel his hunger worsening. Realizing that this too had been part of Kiran’s plan, Seteth holds off for a few minutes before tearing off a small chunk of cake to eat.

A few months passing by, the extra three additions of shrunken heroes had effectively changed nothing for Kiran or for the rest of them. Food, food, and more food available for all of them, most of their days entail that and only that. Grima and Tibarn titanic compared to the rest, Tibarn had actually managed to catch up to Grima's crushing size. Kiran had brought another mattress for the group of five. Their fat billows out on all sides. Their limbs are buried under their blubber. The same is true for their heads, their swollen cheeks taking up most of the space and the fat from their backs rolling up to partially obscure their foreheads. Tibarn and Grima are nothing more than miniature blobs of fat, the two tiny heroes take up the near entirety of one of the mattresses, Corrin, Seteth, Freyr and Duma being relegated to the other mattress. Not that Tibarn and Grima care, the two in complete and utter enjoyment of their size as they try to outdo the other. Corrin is far from the size of the other two, the tiny dragon immobile as well. A straw for a feeding tube is always attached to his mouth just like Grima and Tibarn. He happily guzzles away at his food. Sharing a mattress with the other three heroes, Corrin is the largest of the four by far, his fat oozing in all directions unlike the three smaller heroes. Seteth brought to immobility as well, he had outgrown the tupperware a fair amount of time ago. Not quite on the same level of excitement as the rest of them, he has a near pout on his face from his overstuffed state, Seteth groaning and wheezing often. His clothes useless long ago, his fair skinned lard is a neat blubbery pile of lard. Freyr is the second smallest out of all six of them. Unlike all the others besides Duma, the dream-king is actually still mobile. Only rather obese, his clothes still fit him, the massive slit skirt and half-shawl still wearable despite his bottom heavy figure. His accessories all gone now, he has a single new one, a radiant blue medallion for a necklace. Currently not eating anything, his willing nature had meant he wasn't force fed around the clock like Seteth. Duma even thinner than Freyr, his smallest size out of the six doesn’t mean too much considering his once muscular form is now replaced with plush fat. He is past chubby or pudgy and is now fat. Duma is large all around. He has a doughy plump stomach that presses against his too tight shirt and a pair of round, flabby moobs that are no longer new. His arms are also wide from the added poundage, the sleeves of his mock neck straining just like the rest of his top. His lower half is also equally as doughy with thighs that press against each other and an ass that bounces and wobbles with any sort of above average physicality. Just like Freyr, Duma has a new accessory as well, The same silvery shape and design, his is the same as Freyr’s in every way besides being crimson red.

Both Duma and Freyr glance up as Kiran's attention shifts away from his inventory papers and over to them.

"I may be able to ponder into untapped possibilities, but that offers me no insight into such streams of fate," Freyr opens his eyes, the golden sheen of his irises peering up at Kiran. "So why is it that you decided upon this?"

"Cause I think it's cute," Kiran responds without a pause. He smiles down at Freyr. "Besides, I could always reverse all this at any time,"

“Cute? Nonsense,” Duma scoffs at Kiran’s admission. The admission completely unsurprising, he still refuses to accept the reasoning despite Kiran’s actions completely falling in line with it. “What could possibly be cute about becoming useless piles of lard,” 

“What? People have different tastes,” Kiran pokes Duma’s flabby gut. He puts up no resistance besides a grumble in the back of his month. “And you may be loath to admit it, but even I know that you would have attempted something no matter how impossible the odds. And well,” Kiran smirks down at Duma, the dragon in flustered silence.

"Kiran,,," Seteth groans out upon hearing the summoner. His stomach churns from the taxing food stuffed down his gullet.

"It's okay," Careful to not disturb him too much, Kiran gently rubs Seteth's distended gut with his pinky finger. A few small burps and huffs escape past his lips as Kiran works his magic. Freyr and Duma watches as Kiran coaxes and calms Seteth's turbulent tummy for a few moments before Seteth's stomach soon calms down.

"Thanks,,," Seteth burps out once more, his stomach already less overly filled as it was earlier.