#fat!grima

"They're brownies," Corrin softly chimes in from his seat in the corner, his downcast eyes focusing on his warm chamomile tea instead.

"And what exactly is so special about these…" Grima trails off with a grimace. A plate of freshly baked brownies held in Kiran's hands, Grima eyes them warily as if concocted to destroy him.

"We have nothing like that in Phoenicis," Tibarn stands behind Kiran. He inquisitively glances down at the baked goods. A quick sniff relays enough information on his lack of knowledge on the dessert. "Chocolate huh. Those Begnion pigs loved that stuff,"

"Unsurprisingly, Corrin's the only one to really know about this kind of stuff," Kiran gives a small sigh before going on to inform them. "They're brownies. A nice little gooey, fudgy, chocolaty sweet. And they're special because I baked them myself! Doubly so since they're pot brownies,"

Upon the sudden adjective, Grima and Tibarn both turn towards Corrin. "I've never heard of that word before," He curves his tail closer to himself, not exactly appreciating the attention.

"They've got weed in them," Kiran clarifies. With a lack of a reaction, he divulges further. "You smoke it to feel good but you can also use it in food?" All three of them simply stare at him with morbid curiosity, none of them understanding the summoner. He lets out an exaggerated sigh before placing down the tray of goods. Grabbing a notebook he roughly sketches out the plant.

"Ah, you mean bud," Tibarn is the first one to respond. "I didn't think you'd know of such a thing. I used to enjoy it from time to time with Ulki and Janaff growing up,”

"That's the devil's grass," Corrin adds, now eyeing the brownies warily.

Kiran holds back a small snicker. "Oh come now; this is nothing so morbid like that. It's perfectly harmless and it makes you feel pretty nice,"

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Familiar with it, only in a different form, Tibarn shrugs his shoulders without a care. Grabbing one of the brownies, he merely takes a simple sniff before heartily chomping into the delicacy. “Mmm, you’ve outdone yourself,” Tibarn takes another quick two bites to finish it, a content thumbs up thrown Kiran’s way. “Heh, don’t mind if I take another one, right?” His eyelids drooping, Tibarn doesn’t wait for a response; instead he grabs two at once, one in each hand. He lets out a small, breathy chuckle. He stares at his hands while he continues to munch, as if each digit contained limitless knowledge possessed by Ashunera.

"Who cares about a weed concoction? It is yet another pointless distraction meant to please you pathetic worms," Grima skulks about as ever. Unwilling to partake in merriment enjoyed by others, he keeps his arms crossed.

“I guess you’re right,” Kiran sighs. He turns his back towards Grima. “Alfonse did like these, so I should save some for him if you won’t eat any,” As he goes to walk towards the plate, Kiran already has a grin forming on his face while he waits for his plan to work.

“That pathetic princeling has no need or right of anything that is yours,” And work it does as Grima barrels past Kiran in a frantic rush to reach the brownies. Only wishing to deny someone else enjoyment, Grima angrily takes a bite of the brownie. Chocolate smears his lips. “Much less anything that is mine,,, ooh,” The sweet brownie dances on his tongue. A faint blush forming on his face, Grima’s shoulders lose their tension as they slack. “Perhaps I was mistaken. This weed thing is good,” Grima licks the chocolate smeared all over his teeth, desperate to not let a single gram go. “What was I even complaining about?” Grima’s eyes turn a bit red, the effect seemingly instantaneous.

“I think I’ll pass,” Corrin remains in his secure little corner; he continuously passes concerned glances at Tibarn and Grima.

“Oh come on. It’s not even bad for you,” Having already gotten two out of three, Kiran becomes pushy, pushing the drug onto Kiran. “They’ve only got a small amount” Standing over Corrin’s seated form, he towers over the petite dragon.

“I’m…” As Corrin mulls over on what to do, a voice suddenly pops into his head. ‘You know, my wife Nancy has a saying. Tell ‘em Nancy!’ Corrin’s mind is perfectly silent for a fraction of a second as it waits for another voice to join in. ‘Just say no!’ Corrin stares at the brownie in Kiran’s hand, his willpower marginally renewed from the voices of ghosts not from his world.

Seeing Corrin push back, Kiran pipes up more. “Everyone else is doing it. Just be cool about it,” Holding the brownie right in front of Corrin’s face, Kiran keeps a neutral expression. “Just try it,”

“Fine,” He brushes a bit of his hair to the side as he responds. Corrin trepidatiously accepts the brownie from Kiran, as if it were going to explode in his hand. His stomach churns and toils. He takes a few deep breaths to psyche himself up. Lifting the confection to his mouth, he takes a lil nibble of it. He nods his head in agreement, his body gently swaying to the side in clear enjoyment of it. “This is actually good,” He still takes small nibbles of it but each consecutive bite is always a bit larger than the last. A puff of air comes out his nose in a definite sign of contentment. By the time he finishes his first brownie, he grabs another one to peck at. He makes himself comfortable as he lies down on the couch. He stares at the plain empty ceiling. His mind relaxing, a myriad of shapes and colors that he never knew existed bounce around on the ceiling.

“You guys hungry?” Asking as innocuous as he can be, Kiran already knows the answer to his own question. “You boys wait right here, I’ll be right back with some snacks,” A chorus of hmms sound out as he saunters out the room. Kiran grabs the already prepared cart of food placed right beside the door. Waiting a few minutes, afraid to perhaps come off as too prepared and give something away, he comes right back inside after his self imposed time is up. “I figured you might be a bit peckish, so I got some snacks for you all,” Grima TIbarn and Corrin alike are all too faded to give much of a response besides another round of humms. Kiran doles out snacks to them, the three hungry men snacking away.

His plan on introducing the drug working exactly as planned, Kiran goes onto phase two. Not planning to crack down on them with unjust and pointless laws meant to harm minorities and benefit those in power, the second part of his plan is fundamentally the exact same as the first part; introduce more and more of the drug and let things take their natural course. As natural as the course can be with him being in charge of it all now.

All three perfectly chill and calm ever since having their first taste of weed in Askr, as befitting the effects of marijuana, they all feel another much more important side effect. Well, important to Kiran. The munchies. Addicted to it, all of them are constantly doped up on dope. They simply laze about throughout the entirety of their day, their days now filled with weed and food. Completely lacking awareness from being high all the time, they easily allow it. The pot brownie the gateway drug into other variants, Kiran introduces them to gummies, weed beverages, before even having most of their food contain it once their bodies build up enough of a resistance to it. Marijuana ice cream, weed milk, weed infused lobster, weed mac n cheese, weed gravy, anything and everything, upon hearing it contains weed, Grima Tibarn and Corrin clammer to try it. The more weed in their system, the fiercer the growing pit in their stomach demands food, the munchies taking a tighter grip on their bodies.

Their trim bodies gain an inkling of a pot belly, a trim sliver of pudge forming on the lowest part of their abdomen. That promptly thickens with a bit more time, said sliver of pudge blossoming into a full fledged gut, their arms gaining a bit of circumference all around as do their legs, their appendages getting a bit closer and compressed to their chunky middle. Over time, their usual outfits grow snug in places never before; shirts tighten around their swelling middles, pants constrict their jiggly thighs, and sleeves compress their flabby arms. Too faded to care, their addled brained minds preferring to fixate on satiating their cravings, they simply adorn their tight clothes even as those seem more akin to rags as their burgeoning bodies outgrow them near completely. They lack a single concern in the world with Kiran providing them all the weed and food they could want. Lazing and grazing about their only objective each day, all three’s activity spike down to near nonexistence. The only activity they get is shifting around a few times a day and the semi occasional walk to another location to space out and enjoy their environment, like the castle’s gardens or the lake. But even that minimal effort of movement begins to die down over time, their widening waistlines proving too taxing to bother themselves.

Moving past fat to obesity, Tibarn’s upper figure is the most prominent part of himself. A veritable gut rolls down his tree trunk thighs. The lowest roll of flab nearly reaches all the way down to his swollen calves. Each ponderous step Tibarn takes, the few that he has to, causes the great flabby beast to sway to and fro before undulating from the deep, heavy breaths he takes afterwards from the exertion. His defined pecs look like they never existed on his figure, two pendulous sagging breasts plunging to the side of his mountain of a gut. His arms are wider than the average heroe’s thighs, the doughy sagging arms constantly at an angle from the upper rolls of his torso. His once angular face lacks any sort of severity to it, Tibarn’s now cherubic face taken up by his puffed out cheeks and multiple squished together necks. His ass respectable in its own rights, the shapeless mounds for an ass sag down.

“About..” TIbarn takes a moment to catch his breath, his cheeks puffing out. “time,” Seated on a couch, Tibarn’s immensity takes up the entirety of it, his girthy love handles oozing out onto the armrests. Not a single space left on the seating, his gut rolls off of it and his thighs. The couch sags at the center from his crushing weight.

“Can’t keep you waiting for too long, big guy,” Kiran places a hand on Tibarn’s sprawling gut before rubbing slow circles on it, the immensity of his flab caving in from the slight pressure. “Brought you your favorites,” Handing him a tray consisting of meat, meat, and some more meat, Kiran places it on the titanic shelf of his chest. Kiran also hands him weed gushers. He pats Tibarn’s gut, the mass of fat wobbling in return. Tibarn promptly digs in as soon as his overly laden arms reach the plate of food.

Heading towards Corrin, the once constantly worried dragon is much more relaxed and chilled out. Used to some manners, he continues to sit at the now comparatively tiny table in the room. His body filled out everywhere, his plush rotund body bulges out with fat all over. One chair can no longer withstand his crushing weight, so now he sits on an entire three, the sides of his ass spilling off the sides of them. The inner rivets of his thighs curve inward from the fat piled onto them only for his great gut to smother the entirety of them under its weight. His flab digs into the table, his plush fat seeping above and below it despite it not being as massive as Tibarn’s. His breasts somehow retain a sense of form to them, his juicy, plump chest resting atop his gut.

“How’re you doing?” Kiran comes up from behind, placing a gentle hand on Kiran’s should as he walks around his obese form. “Hungry or anything?”

“I’m fine,” Corrin lets out a small sigh, his fat face giving a contented smile. His nose perks as the wafts of what Kiran is carrying reaches his nostrils. More weed arriving, Corrin’s gut involuntarily grumbles, a deep cavernous rumble shaking his entire body. “Actually,” Corrin pauses, embarrassed to admit his needs.

“I got you covered,” Kiran ruffles the top of Corrin’s hair. He places a plate atop his buxom chest. A spread of food, all of them contain fair amounts of weed. Knowing Corrin will wait a few seconds before stuffing himself, Corrin goes to check on Grima.

The fat fell dragon sitting on a mattress, the cushion offers no real purpose besides customary, Grima’s massive ass oozing off the edges of it. His titanic door crushing thighs remain plastered onto the mattress. The wide, gargantuan appendages spread over the entirety of the mattress. His gut nowhere near as exaggeratedly big as his lower half, the doughy mass of fat rests comfortably atop his thighs. His generous chest lurches forward down onto his heaping stomach, his line of neck rolls and chins resting above said chest. His fat addled arms are at a constant angle from the jutting fat from both his torso and his arms. “And why am,” Grima lets out a groan to catch his breath. “I last?”

Kiran wasting no time waiting, he steps to the side of Grima with a plate ready as well. “Cause I knew you could hold on a bit longer for me. And besides, I'm here right now aren't I?” Kiran places a plate full of nothing but sweets. Each confection is chock full of cannabutter, exactly to Grima’s liking.

Stepping back, he takes an appreciative look of all three’s bloated bodies. Not quite yet immobile, their bodies holding out a bit longer than expected, Kiran’s brain whits as he imagines their obese figures even bigger, said image only a matter of time.

The time coming very quickly, it doesn’t take much longer for the three of them to find themselves unable to get up. Unconcerned from before when moving was already taxing, they display the exact same lack of concern on the same day they can’t get up. And still, they continue to eat and grow. What is once the beginning somewhat resemblant of a body immobility eventually turns into shapeless immobile blobs. Clothes go completely forgone, the amount of fabric needed to cover a single mountain of a gut astronomical. Furniture gets swallowed under their lard, mattresses and couches alike unable to withstand and withhold copious amounts of flab. Space diminishes. With not one. not two, but three pathetically food addicted and weed addicted men, their ever flowing flab presses up against not only itself but against each other with only so much space in the room to go around. So much fat swaddling their entire forms, legs and arms become useless, the appendages becoming buried in a sea of flab. All too eager to keep on eating, the bulging walls are of absolutely no concern when their fat builds and pushes against all four corners of the room. Flab busting down a wall and seeping out in desperation of more room only earns a sigh of relief from them with more breathing room. The ever increasing rolls making up a chin eventually seem to meld together. A tire of fat forms around their fat faces. A handful of heaping rolls lining their stomach become two handfuls into even more, more and more fat piling on top of their corpulent frames. Where once a room was sufficient to house all three immobile piles of lard, soon it becomes a room plus a hallway. Then it turns into multiple rooms before half an entire wing is necessary. Eventually, they take up the entirety of said wing only to require even more space with their ever constantly fattening forms. Soon, the entirety of Askr castle becomes uninhabitable with the looming threat of the three blobs burying the castle under a cascading blanket of lard.

Askr castle now entirely devoid of any sign of people besides three blobs, the only sound one can hear is the churning of overtaxed machines as they perform their best to keep feeding their users. One machine per person is no longer sufficient, each of them requiring two to sate their black hole of a stomach. In what is presumably the throne room, a location Kiran can only guess from how big his heroes’ have gotten, what with any and all furniture destroyed and smothered by their fat, Grima’s big bloated body greedily guzzles away at his liquid food. His hands and legs are equally smothered under titanic fat rolls. His pale blubbery legs have absolutely no definition or shape to them, the oozing oceanic thighs splaying out on both sides around him. A sea of rolls making them up, each thigh alone rivals the size of an average room. So much fat stacked on top of fat, they even give Grima some height to his billowing, massively wide frame. Not that it means much when he’s over six times as wide as he is tall. His ass melding into his thighs, there is no distinction on where exactly they separate from his thighs. The back wall of the throne room bulges outward from the substantial weight pressing onto it. The side wall is already destroyed from his thighs. His stomach able to house, well a house, the big lake of fat comfortably slots itself in between and atop his thighs. His breasts divot down to the sides of his gut, each of them alone larger than an actual person. Tibarn visible in Kiran’s peripheral vision, at least one of the three immobile blobs visible even when far away from the castle, it takes Kiran a whole 50 meters to walk from the center of Grima’s body to Tibarn’s center.. Tibarn the unfortunate one to be stuck in the middle of the three, he took the role with gusto. Unwilling to let himself be outdone, his body gushes outward onto Grima’s and Corrin’s. So immensely fat, three tubes are stuck inside his mouth at all times, his fat cheeks cascading down onto his shoulders. A multitude of chins stacked on top of each other, the rings of fat sag all the way down to where his plunging chest is. Each breast so massively bloated with fat, his great big tits reach far down his stomach. A great feat considering Tibarn’s stomach alone could fill up a library twice over. So many rolls riddling his stomach, they all blend and mix in with his overtaxed thighs and ass, Tibarn’s body hard to tell where each part ends and another starts. His thighs mostly smothered by his absolutely mountainous stomach the appendage somehow manage to look comparatively small despite their overwhelmingly large size. Kiran walks another 55 meters to reach Corrin’s gut. Corrin the runt of the three, his body still puts a pack of elephants to shame. His body once holding out on keeping a semblance of a figure, now he is nothing but a bunch of fat laden rolls of a blob. His arms completely useless, the two rotund cylindrical columns of fat splay out to the sides of his engorged body. His back fat and neck rolls encroach his face, a bit of his hair obstructed by the growing mass of fat. On the right, most of his body takes up the entirety of a single wing where they first got addicted to weed. So massively big that he alone takes it up, Corrin’s gut and thighs are equally impressive. Able to cover far more than a dozen mattresses, his tonnage goes where it pleases, overtaking the few furniture not crushed under one of the three’s weight.

Returning from his own world, Kiran sighs with pleasure. Buying out an entire store, he holds a mere fraction of his pull. “I brought some more weed for you all,” He speaks into a small mic, the three unable to hear him from the gushing sounds of their guzzling without a speaker placed by their sinking faces of fat. The mere mention of the drug gets all of them going, the poor machines whirring even harder as they greedily suck on their slop of feeding tubes. “This is the life,” Kiran smiles to himself with a few stretches to prepare himself for the taxing climb of three mountains of fat.

Later in the day

“Kiran, don’t tell me you gave them even more of this weed thing to them?” Pacing back and forth in his new room in some other smaller, remote castle, Alfonse exasperatedly sighs as he slumps back in his chair.

“I went to check on them. See how bad the weed has been affecting them. Which is why people shouldn’t be taking drugs,”

Alfonse’s eyes shoot wide open from Kiran’s lecturing tone. “Y-you gave it to them! And you keep giving it to them! There is absolutely no lesson to be had here. No moral. No aesop. Nothing. Besides!” Alfonse points an accusatory finger at Kiran, staring up at them even as Alfonse goes to stand up. “There is no way such a drug normally exists. You had to have enchanted it,”

“And what about it?” Kiran noncommittal shrugs. He goes to sit in his chair, far too pleased with himself even as Alfonse berates him.

“Th-then!” Alfonse momentarily stops. His brain wracks itself as it tries to figure out what to say now, not expecting Kiran to purposefully admit being at fault. “Then stop acting like you’re innocent! You gave some to Kaden and Keaton and now this castle is soon to be overtaken by two blobs! They fill up the entire west wing now. Kaden’s chest is so huge that they could crush a wagon! And Keaton’s stomach could crush three of them! And if you’re admitting to being at fault then you need to fix this right this instant!” His entire chest heaves as he finishes his impassioned beratement. He finds himself standing right in front of the seated Kiran who only has a far too amused grin on his face.

“You’re wrong about that,”

“Huh? About what?” Alfonse’s eyes keep steady as they glare at the summoner.

“It’s not going to be two blobs,” Kiran stands up. He stares down at Alfonse, right in front of him. His steely eyes grin down at the confused prince, Alfonse’s body suddenly yelling at him to run only for his feet to remain plastered to the ground. Kiran whips Alfonse around, pressing him against himself. Producing a brownie out of nowhere he tauntingly holds it in front of Alfonse. “It’s going to be three,” He whispers in Alfonse’s ear. A single bead of sweat rolls down the side of his head as his arms and legs thrash about. His struggling slowly dies down the instant the brownie reaches the inside of his mouth, Kiran holding his hand against Alfonse’s lips. Feeling Alfonse’s body begin to slack, Kiran slowly lets him go.

“Ugh I…” With lidded eyes, Alfonse looks at his hands. “I feel so chill,” A little burst of giggling ensues as he drapes himself onto the couch. His flat stomach lets out a small little grumble. “I feel kind of hungry,” Grumbling to himself, he gently holds his stomach in hopes of soothing the pain.

“Here, I have some snacks for you,” An angelic smile now adorning his face, Kiran caresses Alfonse’s hair as he hands him some snacks. “I’ll go get you some more just in case too,” Walking off, Kiran goes to bring him the entirety of the kitchen’s stock.

Alfonse succumbing to the same fate as the others, Kiran has him working overtime in order to catch up. Stuffed to the brim with food all hours of the day, that is nothing compared to the copious amounts of weed he feeds him every half hour. So aggravatingly hungry, it takes only a few weeks for Alfonse to find himself immobilised by his crushing weight. Unaware of ever being angry from the use of weed, he can barely find himself begging for more of it before Kiran supplies it to him alongside another feast or two or three. His fat body is as plain as his once thin body; fat simply cakes itself onto it all over. No exact body part is a standout from the rest even as his body fills the entirety of his room only to take up a whole wing by itself, a sea of fat spreading all around with only Kiran able to tell that the body belongs to Askr’s prince. Making sure to give him a rough time, it all works out for Kiran as Alfonse soon grows to be fatter than Kaden and Keaton combined, the poor kitsune and wolfskin each taking up only a quarter of the smaller castle compared to Alfonse’s three fourths.

"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.