#fat!seteth

It’s been six months since the start of the camp year, marking the half way point. While Byleth writes down observations on his clipboard, a firm hand grasps his right shoulder. It belongs to Sylvain, who is being irritatingly chummy. “Hey there big guy! You up for brunch?”

Byleth rolls his eyes and brushes Sylvain’s hand off. “You’re out of luck, I already have other obligations.”

Sylvain grasps his chest and over-dramatically gasps with shock, “Oh how cruel!” He smirks and winks coyly, “Have room for another?” Sylvain, is without a doubt the most annoyingly flirty camper this year.

At the start of the year, he joined alongside his friends Dimitri and Felix. All three were lean and athletic. Dimitri started out with the most chub out of all of them, and it was only a small amount of pudge on his stomach. Byleth had expected the three of them to be interested in pursuing both fat and muscle gain.

But that wasn’t Sylvain’s goal. When Byleth asked him, the pretty faced red head chuckled and said, “I just want to be super fat.” He then bit into his food and moaned in delight. “I want to embrace all of life’s pleasures.”

Sylvain is not only eager to experience the life of a glutton, he is eager to share it with others. Starting as early as his second day at camp, he’d shower his fellow campers with compliments and invite them for one-on-one feeding sessions.

Within two weeks he had fellow Blue Lions, Ashe and Dedue, enticed by his warm disposition and delicate amber eyes. When he craves a particular meal, they eagerly prepare it for him. If either of them has a recipe that they are eager to try, but are not certain if it is worth the effort, he encourages them to go through with it for his sake. He stuffs himself silly with their culinary masterpieces, and makes sure to repay them by sitting them down and feeding them.

And wasn’t just the Lions; Sylvain could be found getting cozy and pigging out with countless others. Even someone as shy as Ignatz or someone as apathetic as Linhardt.

Sylvain’s growth was appropriately exceptional, he’s one of the fastest gainers in the camps history. Even in the first month, when gains were at their lowest across the board, he piled on 15 pounds. The subsequent few months he averaged 25 pounds per month.

Doughy-pudgy-fat had accumulated around his body. The firm six-pack abs he had at the start of the year were succeeded by a plush and sagging belly. His trim waist swelled into blubbery love-handles that spilled over the sides. His once a tight rear ballooned with lard becoming a plump and jiggly ass perfect for lazing on while stuffing his face with sweets. His hips and thighs thickened into curvaceous and juicy thunder thighs. His square chest puffed into a pair of squishy man boobs.

Sylvain is immensely proud and infatuated with his fatter body. He regularly caresses his curves and flaunts them in front of others, begging for them to be touched. Many of the campers struggle to resist his advances. Others happily comply.

The moment Sylvain enters a room, the atmosphere becomes rich with sexual tension. It can be a headache for Byleth. Especially whenever he flirts with Byleth himself or his husband Seteth. Which is what Byleth figures Sylvain is doing right now.

“Do you have something important to discuss with me Sylvain?”

“Nah it’s nothing big. But I realized I forgot to say “thank you” yesterday.”

“Oh!” Byleth begins to chuckle. “You sure were excited about the weigh in. You ran out cheering before I could even congratulate you.”

Sylvain blushes and laughs. “When I saw the number was bigger than 300, I lost it!”

“Your next result will probably be at least double your starting weight.”

“Ha, I guess I’ll have to brace myself so I can thank you properly next time.” Sylvain cheerfully pats the top of his belly with both his hands. He dreamily admires it and says, “There’s still another six months left. My goal doesn’t seem so far anymore.”

Byleth is intrigued by the new information. “You have another weight you’re aiming for?”

“That’s right. My goal is to be seriously massive. I aspire to be as big as your husband.” Sylvain pauses and scratches his cheek, “Or at least as big as he was earlier this year.”

“If in the coming months you gain as much as the first half, then you will come close to his weight at the year’s start.” Byleth explains. “If you continue to gain 30 pounds each month like in these past couple, then you will get really close.”

“Yeah, I did the math too. It’s so close I can taste it! That’s why I have to say thank you!” Sylvain reached out and vigorously shook Byleth’s hand. The action had both of their chubby bodies jiggling. “Thank you for your guidance, kindness, and most of all your patience.”

Byleth laughs gently and quietly, “Just doing my job. Don’t undersell your own dedication to the process. Your ability to promote comradery across camp has no doubt been instrumental to the tremendous results everyone has achieved.”

Sylvain’s cheeks turn as red as his hair from blushing. “Aww shucks, Byleth you sure know how to make a guy feel special.” He pats his belly from the side and states a thought, “Maybe one day I can get a job here too.”

“That would be nice. You certainly have the disposition for it.”

Sylvain winks and smirks, “And when that time comes, Seteth, you, and I can finally…”

Byleth picks up his clipboard and gently bops Sylvain on the head. “I’m far too busy for this schtick. And I bet you already have another date you need to meet up with again.”

“You know me so well!” Sylvain laughed and patted Byleth on the shoulder. I’ve got to go, have a good day!” Sylvain took off in the direction Byleth came from.

Byleth sighed and continued his trip to his destination.

But an idea clouded his mind. A hypothetical scenario. One where Sylvain, much like Seteth, has become a 600-pound blubber mountain of a man. The three of them together, naked and flabby bodies laid bare, and Byleth himself squeezed between the two giant men.

Seteth sighs, he had searched all over the Aether Resort, but he could not find Byleth. He was told that Byleth was headed here earlier this morning, yet he could not find the man anywhere. He was hoping they could share lunch together. But not in this “awful” place.

His stomach growls for attention. He sighs again, it was irritating how his appetite had not recovered from Kiran’s devious machinations. He needs to either find Byleth or return to the Order of the Heroes quickly. Seteth looks at the inn, Byleth wasn’t there earlier, but he could be now. One more check and if he is not there, it’s time to leave.

The inn is astonishingly empty, usually several of the other heroes would be mulling about the place, and there had been earlier, but they are all gone now. Weird but not impossible, Seteth pays it no mind. He checks the sign-out sheet, and finds that Byleth had signed in after Seteth left. And according to the sheet he hadn’t left yet!

Seteth explores further within the building; the dining room, the game room, the bathroom, and the bedrooms. Yet he still cannot locate Byleth. Frustrated, Seteth nearly grumbles something uncouth. Had Byleth merely forgotten to sign out?

He is just about ready to quit and leave, when he notices something out of place. The door to Kiran’s private room was ajar. Seteth fears that place, but if it could give him some hints… He approaches the door and a warm and pleasant scent fills his nostrils. Food, and lots of it.

This is a trap. It has to be. This is where Kiran invites guests, and disarms them with delicate words and kind smiles. Deceives them into eating that accursed yet heavenly food. The decadent flavors that overwhelm the senses and awakens an insatiable and primal hunger. Causing the person to toss away any decorum and begin to devour more and more and more! All the while, the enchanted food reshapes their body. The abdomen rounds and pushes outward. Square muscular pectorals puff up like melons. Thighs thicken and squeeze together. Posteriors expand and crush the chair beneath them. Fat bunches under the neck and forms a second chin. The Summoner’s plot was clear; they sought to fatten up heroes. And many times, they had succeeded. During his search for Byleth, Seteth crossed paths with numerous corpulent individuals. He had even been in their position a few times. But whenever Kiran succeeded to fatten him like a pig, Seteth would eventually get exhausted and demand the spell be lifted.

Now, Seteth has come to a conclusion. Kiran must be fed up with him rejecting their perverse idea of paradise. They have laid out this trap to capture him once and for all! Perhaps Byleth was never at the resort at all. Or perhaps Byleth was assisting Kiran, as he has a few times before.

Seteth grumbles, “I must leave.”

However, his stomach grumbles deafeningly louder. Damn. He has waited to long and walked around far too much today. He picks his head and realized that he had walked into the room, guided by his hunger and the mesmerizing scent of the food. He looked at the table situated between two seats. One was a smaller chair suited for Kiran, and the other a love seat, in case the guest’s transformation is exceptionally massive. There were two covered silver platters of food. Kiran wasn’t going to strip their victims of all choice in their fate. Seteth’s conscious continues nagging at him to leave. But his hunger and curiosity beg him to uncover the dishes and peek inside. Well… it couldn’t hurt to look.

He lifts the lid of the platter on the left. It contains; 10 ounces of Filet-Mignon cooked medium rare and drenched in garlic butter, two cups of mash potatoes with savory gravy pooling in the center, green beans cooked in bacon grease with crumbles of the bacon served with it, and three oven fresh sourdough rolls. Saliva builds in his mouth and threatens to drool from his lips. He puts the lid back on and redirects his attention to the other platter. Underneath it he finds; chicken breast fried and crusted with parmesan, fettucine noodles drowned in alfredo and marinara, and slices of cheesy garlic bread. A beautiful display of rich carbo-loaded paradise.

Seteth knows he needs to put the lid back on now, if he takes any longer temptation will overthrow reason. But when his stomach growls and gurgles uncomfortably once more, he instead sets the lid down off to the side. Seteth reaches out and snatches a slice of garlic bread. “It couldn’t hurt to have a single slice, right?” he thinks to himself. “I will need to energy to continue my trek back down to the castle…” He stares longingly at the bread; he shouldn’t allow it near his mouth until he leaves the inn. However, he has long reached the event horizon. He takes a big chomp out of the piece. The bread crunches as it is torn apart by his teeth and he quickly chews and swallows the entire slice of bread. With the bread swallowed he licks the greasy residue around his lips and fingers. He grabs another slice, “Another won’t hurt.” It is inhaled just as quickly as the first.

A bubbling sensation starts in his stomach. Seteth rubs at his abdomen without acknowledging the inevitable. He can no longer think straight; he only wants more. He grabs a fork and knife and cuts off a corner of the chicken parmesan. He puts in his mouth to chew and simultaneously cuts another larger slice of the chicken. He swallows the piece and shoves the next one with hardly a second in between, and cuts another larger portion. As he adds the third to his mouth, he plops down in the love seat. As he descends, he holds onto his at his abdomen, a new layer of padding has already begun to form. Once again, he ignores it, he starts winding the pasta on his fork. He slurps off the saucy noodles from his fork in one hand. In the other hand he lifts the lid of the other platter.

While he reaches for a sourdough roll the padding on his abs pudges out past a beginner belly. He bites the roll in half and stabs the fork into the green beans. Seteth inhales the beans and cuts into the steak. While his thighs and ass fill out his pants. While the square outline of his chest puffs into a rounder droopier shape. He sinks his teeth into the savory meat and looks for his next target. The enchantment spurs him onward; he only ponders the flavor of the food and the empty feeling in his stomach. In contrast, his belly is more than filling. His belt reaches its limit and snaps apart, causing the doughy ball to spill into his lap. Seteth only reacts with a sigh of relief. His rear further widens and can now cover almost an entire cushion of the love seat. His thighs are becoming tubes of lard and are closing in on each other. Love handles bulge on the side of his waist, fat fills out around his neck, and his cheeks are round even after he swallows.

The door to the room creaks back open, and a young man’s voice comes from the other side. “I was too late.” It was Byleth who found Seteth.

Seteth recognizes Byleth’s presence. Yet it isn’t enough to break from his trance. He looks over his shoulder, fat sagging under the chin, “Byleth- *urp* I already started eating the food you made for me.”

“I didn’t make it.”

Seteth looks back at the food in front of him as he responds. “Alright then, I am eating Kiran’s food.” He returns to stuffing his mouth.

Byleth walks towards Seteth. His words invoke disappointment but his tone suggests amusement, “You shouldn’t have eaten that.” He reaches the dining table and observes the damage. More than half of all the food on the table has been demolished. “Yikes.” He looks at Seteth and see how much he has ballooned. The buttons of his shirt are straining and there are gaps leaving his undershirt and the bottom of his belly visible. Byleth’s eyes open wide and he blushes “Oh wow…!” Byleth recognizes that Seteth’s growth is faster and likely greater than the last time.

Seteth blushes and briefly looks Byleth in the eyes. “You must be happy that I fell for Kiran’s trap.”

Byleth sighs and plainly states. “Kiran didn’t make this for you.” Seteth’s pudgy face turns pale. “I take it you never asked anyone else here where Kiran was. The inn being empty should have tipped you off…”

Seteth finally drops his fork and swallows down his food with a distressed gulp. “Oh Goddess, this is a new guest’s meal.” The room is quiet with a palpable tension… for a few seconds until the buttons on the crest of Seteth’s gut pop off. Now his face is as red as a tomato. The shock of it all causes him to take a mental step back and look at what he has done. He groans as fullness starts to settle in and he can feel the gradual stretching of his body. He rubs at the crest of his dome of a gut and huffs and burps. The undershirt has risen above his navel. His thighs have squeezed together. The threads of his pants along his rear are soon to bust. He has a second chin hanging forming from neck fat. He is more enormous than the last time.

“I should have known better after the last time you came up on your own. Sorry.” Byleth meekly apologizes.

Seteth struggles to find his words, he settles on, “Can you help me stand up?”

“Of course.” Byleth offers his hands for Seteth to balance himself on. As Seteth bends forward, his moobs bust the top buttons of his shirt and as he stands up a loud rip comes from his posterior. He just sighs and excepts the error of his ways.

For a brief moment Seteth steals a glance at the remaining food and licks his lips. Byleth scolds him. “No more for you, you glutton!” Seteth pouts. Byleth chuckles. He turns his attention to the ruined meal. He takes the chicken parmesan plate, the lighter of the two, and slides the last of the food onto the other platter. He puts the full plate on the empty one and stacks them together with both lids overlapping on top. He turns back to face Seteth who wandered off while he was cleaning up. Seteth was trying to stretch his body, to adjust to the 200 plus and still increasing pounds. All it served to do was treat Byleth to a show of his jiggling features.

Working as a Fat Camp counselor had been his dream for years. He had been surrounded by numerous corpulent family and friends all his life. But he himself had little fortune when it came to growth. As such, he devoted himself to researching methods of promoting gaining weight and maintaining it.

His comprehension of fat and ability to empathize with the campers wrought many success stories. Although his own success had been relatively minimal. Having only made it to 200 pounds himself.

It is the night of the first day of the work year. Byleth eagerly introduced many new campers, and was eager to see them fulfill their dreams. After a full day, he retired for the night in his cabin with his husband. He looks at himself in the mirror and grasps the flab on his abdoment and sighs. “I wonder if I will gain at least ten or fifteen pounds this year.”

His husband, Seteth, enters the room from the bathroom shower. Seteth, was a family friend and crucial individual in Byleth getting his job. He had served as a counselor a few years before, and temporarily returned for Byleth’s first year to support him as his senior. Seteth wasn’t interested in getting fat himself, and had kept his body quite lean and muscular. Byleth’s affection changed that. By the end second year, and the start of the two men’s marriage, he got slightly heftie. After having relaxed into their life together, he decided to fully embrace growing fat on his own body. The following three years spent with an expert encourager while surrounded with a breadth of resources caused him to balloon into a true super chub.

The now 500+ pound man has already dried himself off and dressed himself for the night. His pajamas are made up of a single navy-blue t-shirt and a deep-green pair of boxers that matched his hair and eyes. Both were too small and tightly clung to his figure. The boxers pinched his elephantine thighs and couch crushing ass. The shirt squeezes his voluptuous tits tightly together. It cannot stretch past his navel and lets his mountainous gut and muffin-top be exposed to the brisk night air. The pj set offers virtually no coverage, but instead serves to accentuate every curve and fold on his body.

“Feeling anxious about the new year, my love?” Seteth inquired as he made his way to their bed. As he sat down, the bed frame creaked and the mattress sunk down.

Byleth glances at the paperwork on his desk, “Yeah. I looked over my notes again. So many campers are aiming to reach 300 pounds. And a good number of them are smaller than me.”

Seteth chuckles, and his body jiggles like gelatin. “They will probably tone down their expectations after a few days.”

Bylet sighs, “I hope so.” He looks at his corpulent husband reclining on their bed. “I wonder if the higher ups started advertising your own gains from the last year?”

“I would hope not, that is our personal accomplishment together.” Both men laugh.

Byleth approaches the bed and his husband. He brings a plate stacked with cookies. “I brought us a late-night snack.” He winks coyly, “Don’t hog it all.”

"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.