It's a perfect time for you to lose your mind.

Featuring fresh fetish fiction

[simplyheretical]

Okay yeah holy shit Twitter is exploding.

I mean it's always exploding, but still.

Now if only Tumblr would let me change my avatar back...

[bruppypuppy]

not my character

[simplyheretical]

My babe Azalon <3

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...Is tumblr back? Is this happening?

[simplyheretical]

Making the jump to DeviantArt

What with Tumblr getting ready to scrub itself clean of smut (even though I just got here, thanks for that), I obviously can’t safely keep uploading here.

So instead, I’ve set up a DeviantArt page. All 9 parts of The Firehair are uploaded, and anything I write in the future will go there too. I’m considering trying out WordPress as well, though I’m not totally sold on it yet.

Here’s the link to my DA. Don’t forget to check the alt sites for any other writers or artists you might follow on Tumblr as well!

[simplyheretical]

Reblogging just in case.

[simplyheretical]

Making the jump to DeviantArt

What with Tumblr getting ready to scrub itself clean of smut (even though I just got here, thanks for that), I obviously can’t safely keep uploading here.

So instead, I’ve set up a DeviantArt page. All 9 parts of The Firehair are uploaded, and anything I write in the future will go there too. I’m considering trying out WordPress as well, though I’m not totally sold on it yet.

Here’s the link to my DA. Don’t forget to check the alt sites for any other writers or artists you might follow on Tumblr as well!

[simplyheretical]

The Firehair, Part 9

This is probably the last part of the story I'll do in this longform continuous-plot format. 'The Firehair' as a set of characters and a setting will likely stick around, but anything I write for them in the future will probably be shorter, more self-contained stories and scenarios about the three girls on their adventures trying to get Lyriana back home or other goals that may pop up afterwards. Thank you to everyone who's read and enjoyed it to this point, and especially to those who've voiced their opinions and given suggestions.

Guess this is the last piece I’ll be posting here on Tumblr, too, given the state of things. I’ll post a link to my DeviantArt page when it’s set up and I’ve gotten these uploaded there, but for now...

What you can expect from this story:

F/F 

First-person perspective

Fantasy setting

Unrealistically Large Breasts and Ass

Belly Stuffing and Inflation

Stomach Noises

Unrealistic/Hyper Gas (Burping and Farting)

Way too much attempt at actual serious plot between the fetishy parts

Furry/Anthro (Dragon Girl)

This was bad. If Shasza in all her pride was worried, then these “morlocks” must have been awful things indeed. I held my breath as best I could whilst watching the morlocks closing in ahead of us. There must have been more than ten of them now, and those were just the ones I could see in Dawnshard’s light.

They were twisted, ugly things, with elongated arms and spindly legs devoid of color save for the dull purplish-red of veins visible through their skin. They looked almost as if they had once been human, and maybe that was true, but generations underground had warped them into hideous, mocking echoes of that form. Their heads bore long, almost stretched faces, with mouths protruding forward like muzzles or beaks lined with sharp, snaggly teeth slick with drool. Those that had eyes looked as if the skin had wilted and drooped down over them, or were left with pure white orbs that stared with a lifeless blankness into the distance, sometimes looking as if they were peering straight through me without seeing. Others had no eyes at all, but rather a blank wall of slightly sunken flesh over their skull.

What gave away the acute hearing Shasza had warned us of was their large, bat-like, pointed ears, which seemed to have some articulation of their own; they turned and pivoted around on the creatures’ heads, even bending and folding back and forth, in and out, as if trying to focus or broaden the scope of their hearing. The ugly beasts lurched and stalked with a disturbingly purposeful gait, those huge ears twitching rapidly while they sniffed about with misshapen, flat noses.

They would find us any second. I reflexively reached up to cover my mouth and nose, trying to keep myself silent as possible; Shasza’s lips were moving but making no sound, her fingers twisting and gesturing minimally as she tried to cast something as quietly as possible. It didn’t seem to be working, whatever she was trying to do.

Azalon was stock-still beside me, not daring to move a muscle even as I saw her eyes darting from figure to figure, already seemingly calculating how best to answer the threat of their impending attack. The look on her face was tense, nervous, apprehensive, and at first I was worried she might actually be as afraid as I was. Then I realized that no, she wasn’t afraid.

GgGrrrRuURrrRrrgGgggGlllBbbbrlllruUuuUaAaaAGGgglll~! <Shit! Sorry!>

The violent, booming growl of Azalon’s stomach broke the silence of the cavern and felt loud enough to shake the very stone around her, though I was sure that was just my imagination. Instantly the morlocks were alerted, a dozen warped, eyeless faces turning to face us at once. One of them paused in place and straightened up, its shoulders sinking as it lifted its head and peeled back its lips from its teeth; through a gap in its grin I could just see its greyish tongue slithering up in its mouth before snapping downwards sharply, creating a loud clicking sound that echoed in the cavern. It repeated the noise again and again, with others quickly joining in.

Acting on instinct, I knelt down and reached out for a loose stone on the cave floor. Grabbing it with a snapping motion of my arm, I turned to the side and hurled the rock as far as I could down a tunnel to the side. KA-CLUNK-CLACK-A-LACK! The sound of the stone landing and bouncing down the passage broke the silence sharply, and near-instantaneously the morlocks’ ears all swiveled towards the noise, their whole heads soon following. A few swiftly skittered over in that direction, but the others stayed, seemingly waiting to see what would happen.

Knowing I couldn’t let the distraction be a failure, I twisted my fingers and breathed as quiet a syllable as I could muster; with an equally loud, crackling POP, a burst of light flared in the tunnel, and the second noise seemed confirmation enough for the morlocks. “K’ke’kr’rummm!” the apparent leader clicked and trilled, and then the lot of them went scampering after the supposed prey, leaving me, Azalon, and Shaza watching and waiting silently until the last of them had skittered into the tunnel. We finally gasped for air as softly as we could, exchanging glances. We still didn’t dare speak out loud, so instead we exchanged nods. <Now, go!> I urged the other two, who wasted no time in accompanying me as I hurried forward for one of the several other passages out of the chamber, heading for the one which looked the most like it went in an upward direction.

We hustled in silence for at least a couple of minutes, putting as much distance as we could between us and the morlocks in case they either heard our footsteps or realized my diversion was just that. It was the best answer any of us had for the situation — just keep moving. Our pace slowed after a while, and we walked on with cautious, soft steps. Every so often Shasza would stop us and listen in the dark, to ensure we weren’t being followed. Even with her assurance that we were safe for the time being, however, I couldn’t help but feel like something was watching from the blackness just outside Dawnshard’s glow...or listening.

Careful steps and slow movement served us well in staying silent, but it wasn’t long before Azalon’s noisome bowels rumbled up again, nearly as loud as before.

GGgrrRrrrrRoOooooOoooOoORrrr~...! By now it seemed Shasza’s telepathy spell had worn off, so we were forced to revert to whispering. “Would you quiet your stupid gut?!” Shasza hissed over her shoulder, prompting an apologetic wince from Azalon. “Sorry!” she whispered back with a blush. “I can’t help it, I’m really hungry!”

“Hungry?” I blurted a little too loudly before quickly clapping a hand over my mouth. I looked up at Azalon beside me incredulously and continued at a lower whisper, pulling my hand away. “I thought you said it was gas?”

Azalon gave a slightly embarrassed look, but grinned sheepishly anyway. “It’s both! I haven’t eaten in like four hours, since that meal at the fort!”

My eyes widened as I looked her over again, particularly her overly-tight breastplate. “It’s only been four hours? You worked through all that food in only four hours?!”

RrrgGgLLLrrrrrrrrrrrrRRRGGggggg~! “Ngh...yeah, I digest fast! Besides, I wasn’t even full!”

“Ugh,” Shasza groaned with disdain. “Don’t act so impressed, Lyriana,” her jealous pride reared up once more. “I could outdo her any time, if it’s gluttony you want to see.”

“Ooh, is that a challenge?” Azalon asked, perking up with distinct interest. “Should we have an eating contest when we get out of here?”

Shasza blinked, apparently not having expected that, and stammered in reply, “I-I...of course, if only to show you how foolish it is to challenge a dragoness!”

Azalon giggled softly, stifling it as best she could. “But you challenged me!”

The two of them bickered — or rather, Shasza bickered while Azalon cheerfully conversed back — for another minute or so while I silently struggled to keep the image of both lovely ladies stuffing themselves to the brim for my benefit from distracting me too much.

Then I heard it again: the distant, subtle scratching of misshapen footsteps and long-nailed fingers on the cavern walls, quite effectively dashing all thoughts of gassy gluttony from my mind. I slowed down and looked behind us, but the others didn’t seem to have heard it. They carried on walking ahead with their back-and-forth. “...Azalon…?” I whispered, backing up to keep pace with her. “...Of course I could eat more than you, I’m a dragon!” Shasza scoffed. Azalon stifled a giggle, not hearing me. “I’d certainly like to see that! I’d be right there cheering you on!”

The tapping and scratching were growing closer, and I thought I could hear the creatures starting to pick up their pace, emitting that same clicking sound from before. “S-Shasza…? Azalon…?! Hey…!” I whispered more harshly.

“Don’t patronize me!” Shasza glared at Azalon with a low growl. Azalon raised her hands defensively, shaking her head. “No no, I’m not! Really, that’d be amazing to see! I’ve never met anyone who could eat close to as much as m-!” Taking initiative, I stepped forward and clapped a hand over Azalon’s mouth (having to reach up quite high to do so!). She and Shasza both looked down at me with surprise, until I pointed back down the tunnel behind us. When they heard the morlocks approaching, they went silent again.

Protectively, Azalon pulled me around in front of her and Shasza took the rear as we started moving again, knowing the morlocks were on our trail now. I walked ahead nervously, but as we moved we could still hear them coming, faster than before. They were gaining on us. Before we knew it, we were moving at practically a jogging pace, and for me at least, fear was setting in. I hurried ahead of the other two, checking over my shoulder repeatedly to see if our pursuers had entered Dawnshard’s light.

I came to a turn in the tunnel, and heard the clicking and scratching too late. As I rounded the corner, a morlock leapt out onto me, pinning me to the floor and slobbering hungrily over me! Instinctively I cried out in fear, convinced its gnarled fingers would wring my neck or else its snaggled teeth would sink into my flesh.

Thankfully I was spared either fate by Shasza’s swift action, as she lunged forward and grabbed the creature, throwing it off of me onto the cavern floor where it gave a wailing cry to alert its brethren before the dragoness’s taloned feet sliced through its windpipe. “Run!” she hissed, standing between me and the oncoming mob that had been tailing us.

Not even thinking about doing anything else, I scrambled back to my feet and sprinted down the tunnel as fast as I could with Azalon beside me to light my way. My heart felt like it was beating out of my chest. I could hear every scrabbling footstep, every click and trill, every excited, panting breath behind us as the blind hunters chased us down.

I saw the tunnel narrow ahead to a low opening. I hesitated slightly as I came towards it, but Azalon pushed me forward so I ducked my head and hurried through with little trouble. Looking back, I saw Shasza come up beside her and stop, and Azalon stooped down to pass through after me. Being much taller than I, the amazonian woman had to bend much lower, and her significantly broader frame made squeezing through an issue. I had made it through with at least a foot or more of clearance to either side, but the mithral of her breastplate scraped against the stone on both sides of her. Her torso came through without too much issue after a quick push, but the real problem surfaced when her hips made contact with the mouth of the opening, squeezed through maybe a couple of inches, and then stayed stuck fast.

Even as muscular and shapely as her lower body was, she still had quite a lot of padding around her hips and rear, and it seemed the colossal size of her backside had finally come to bite her in the...well, you get the idea. At any other time, I would have been sexually overjoyed at the very notion of Azalon’s bottom being too huge and wide and round to fit through an opening, but given the circumstances, I found myself instead quite horrified.

Azalon heaved and pushed and struggled, but seemed unable to free herself in her compromisingly bent-over position. Wordlessly, I rushed forward and grabbed her free hand, pulling on her as hard as I could, and her surprised grunts told me Shasza must have been shoving from the other side as well. Try as we might, though, it seemed hopeless. Every passing second I grew more and more certain that Shasza was being overwhelmed and Azalon would be next. Fright and guilt welled up inside me — I was the reason we were here to begin with, after all — and I couldn’t bear to look any longer. I shut my eyes and turned my head even as I kept pulling and pulling.

I heard Azalon grunting and groaning harder still, using all of her considerable might...and then I heard something I hadn’t expected at all.

K...Crr...rra-AAck…

When I opened my eyes again I saw the very stone around Azalon’s vast hips starting to fracture and crack. Little pebbles and pieces of stone started to fall away from the walls where the spider-webbing fractures spread out. And there, in the center of it all, was Azalon still pushing...or perhaps she was flexing her thighs against the rock, I couldn’t entirely tell anymore...and the fiery red hue of her hair was brighter and more vibrant than ever, starting to faintly glow like true flames. It looked just like the glow that her sister Azalea’s hair had taken on in Springhaven that last night…

Cr-k-crraaAck...crrrckklll-kr-BOOM! With a great, echoing, crumbling crash, the section of stone that had entrapped Azalon’s buttocks burst apart into chunks of rubble, sending her lurching forward to land with a noisome clank and scraping on the floor ahead of it. The damage that the Firehair’s posterior had done to the wall took its toll, as the opening started to crumble and cave in entirely — Shasza just barely made it through as she dove head-first through the falling rubble and landed straight against Azalon’s raised and protruding bum.

The morlocks on the other side did not seem so lucky, however, as not a single one seemed to make it through the collapsing hole in time to come after us. I breathed a sigh of relief and bent down, throwing my arms around Azalon in an impulsive, grateful embrace. “Not so fast,” Shasza’s whispering voice warned, prompting me to pull back and look towards her quizzically. She was standing again now, and looking about at our new surroundings. “We’re not safe.”

My heart sank at those words and I finally turned to take in where the hole had led us...but I couldn’t see anything past the suddenly very small-seeming circle of light cast by Azalon’s sword. Even Shasza’s whispers seemed to echo, wherever we were, and I could still hear faint repetitions of the initial crash of the cave-in bouncing off of some far-off, unseen cavern walls, not to mention its continuing rumbles whilst the stone settled.

Then they appeared again, closing in from the edges of the light. First a half-dozen, then a score, then I lost count.

We had stumbled right into the very heart of the morlocks’ territory.

Azalon stood up slowly, and I backed up, trembling, between her and Shasza. The deep-dwelling horrors were all around us, completely surrounding us. They knew exactly where we were, their elongated, batlike ears turned straight towards us and their throats clicking. There would be no distractions or fleeing this time.

One started with a territorial screech, and then the others all joined in, creating a deafening, blood-curdling shriek that must have been at least a hundred strong by the sound. With that, they all swarmed us, and the fighting began.

It was a flailing hell of claws and teeth from the morlocks and Shasza, and slashing, flashing, bright-burning mithral from Azalon, all while I cowered and dodged, helpless to do anything but shove and kick at any foe that came too close. The two women flanking me were fighting remarkably, each of them dispatching one after the other after the other in quick succession — with Shasza’s magic and her smoggy, poisonous breath especially, she was able to thwart several morlocks at once in repeated single fell swoops.

Azalon, despite all her skill, was having more trouble, even with her occasional bursts of searing flame from her hands or her sword alike. There were just too many, and they were starting to slip past her. One morlock grabbed at me, but I was able to push it away. Then another held onto me, and a third clawed at me viciously, tearing a gash into my side straight through my clothes. The pain was sharp and hot and my body cried out against my will. I felt teeth sink into my arm, adding a duller, crushing pain to the mix. The best I could do was to grab a stone and feebly bash at the face of the nearest of my attackers, but it fell from my hands before the third strike.

“Lyriana!” Azalon yelled as she turned and bashed one of my assailants over the head, then slammed the next with a hip-check that sent it sailing through the air over the heads of its swarming companions. I was freed from their grasps but already I felt weak, and I fell forward into her open arm even as she sliced her blade one-handed through the air to cut down another series of angry beasts. “Shasza, she’s hurt! We have to get out of here!”

“Take her then, get away!” the dragoness boomed, using her full, draconic power in her voice now. The ground before her erupted with sharp stalagmites that impaled the morlocks closest to her, and she took the fraction of a moment to turn and point upwards. “There! Get her out of here!” Following her clawed finger, Azalon and I looked up. There, far above, we saw sunlight, a literal ray of hope peeking into the gloomy underground through a long, jagged crack of a hole far enough above that the light could not pierce the darkness all the way to the floor we stood on. “Are you sure?!” Azalon demanded, parrying a claw with her blade and slicing through the beast’s hand with the next move.

Shasza threw her a menacing glare, then swung her tail around to pierce a morlock’s skull with the spikes at its tip. “If you two get out of my way, I can stop holding back and poison them all! Now go!”

Azalon frowned, but seemed to accept the reasoning as she hoisted me over her shoulder and swung her sword in a broad arc to cut herself a path. She turned and leaned to one side and charged forward, using her size and strength to barrel past the throng of enemies like a bull trampling wheat, either knocking them straight down or sending them flying to the sides with her tremendous curves. Once she’d cleared the bulk of the group, she shoved her sword into its sheath, and for a moment I saw nothing.

I felt a tug and heard a rustling, and then the light of Azalon’s sword was replaced by a blazing, fiery orange glow. This light did not come from her hair or her eyes, though both of those were certainly aflame with light of their own; no, instead the flaming radiance came from a massive pair of wings attached to Azalon’s back at her shoulder blades! At least seven feet long each from tip to base and covered in shimmering red-orange feathers like a phoenix’s plumage, I couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of them, and it took me a moment to realize that Azalon had finally taken off her cloak.

Beneath me, the Firehair squared her feet, bent her knees, raised her wings and then beat them down again with tremendous force as she leapt upwards. Suddenly, we were flying.

In the pitch darkness below I saw nothing but the occasional flash of arcane light signalling the casting of a spell, and the monstrous roaring I heard told me that Shasza was making good on her promise to unleash her full poisonous potential on the morlocks. In my lightheaded exhaustion, I wondered faintly if her poison breath smelled as bad as her gas  — a thought that brought a brief chuckle to my throat before I passed out.

“Hey...how do you feel?” I woke up again with Azalon standing over me. Once again, I was in a bed which I slowly came to realize was the one I’d claimed at the fort, and at first I was baffled. How could we be back here? Had it all been a dream?

“Ouch!” I winced. No, the pain of my wounds told me, it had not been a dream. I looked up at Azalon above me, and sure enough, two great wings matching her fiery hair were folded behind her, rising over her head and stretching out to her sides slightly…

Wait… I thought, furrowing my brow at her as more of my consciousness returned. When did Azalon get so...thin? 

Taking her in fully, I realized that the wide, thickset build I’d grown so used to Azalon having was gone, and in its place was an athletic, slender woman who, if not for her still somehow enormous bust and remarkably spacious, heart-shaped backside, appeared quite honestly skinnier than me — not that I was a paragon of thinness myself. She still wore her same clothes from before, and her much-too-small shirt still clung to her humongous breasts like a second skin, showing off her stomach fully in its newfound smooth flatness — I could even see some of the definition of her impressive abdominal muscles!

A sympathetic smile was on her face as she looked me over. “Not too great, I take it?” She straightened up, and I was even more shocked. Had she always been that tall? She had been very tall, of course, but she seemed even more so now, at least seven feet! Her previously full-length trousers now hung only to about her knees! 

“Sorry, I’m not the best at healing magic, but at least your wounds should be closed up and won’t get infected. Shasza’s downstairs...complaining about the accommodations, of course. She’s still upset her hoard got ruined!”

I started to push myself to try and sit up, but the burning in my side stopped that quickly. Reluctantly, I settled for lying flat as I asked weakly, “...What...happened to you?”

Azalon’s easy, reassuring smile shifted to a more strained, uncomfortable one, and I sensed she had dreaded this very scenario. “Heh...I guess you don’t mean these,” she joked, glancing to a few bandages of her own around her newly skinnier arms and legs. “Well, um...so the truth is...and I was honestly just as surprised about this as you are when I found out...I’m, er...not exactly human.”

She winced, pulling up a chair to my bedside and sitting down with a soft creak. Even with her much narrower frame, her stupendous hourglass curves still held quite a bit of weight, it seemed. Her fingers knitted together in her lap and she twiddled her thumbs. “So...I told you how I never knew my mother,” she began slowly. “Well, that’s not because she died, it’s because she...doesn’t live on this plane. I’m what’s called an Aasimar. My papa’s human, but my mother is…” she hesitated, looking for the words. “She’s a Brijidine, and a...direct servant of the sun goddess.”

“So…” I paused, looking at Azalon in confusion. “Your mother is...like an angel?”

“No,” she answered quickly and firmly, the bite in her tone, even as minor as it was, being the most negative emotion I’d ever heard from her. “Not an angel, just...a powerful, holy...fiery being…” She frowned, seeming to know full well how poorly she’d done at disqualifying the ‘angel’ descriptor. “But anyway, she’s not the point. The point is that...a couple of years ago I grew these wings, and I started getting tall…”

“...Okay, tall-er,” she conceded, seeing the look I gave her. “And the abilities I’ve always had, with the fire and everything, that I always thought were the gods blessing me turned out to actually be just...natural. And I found out that the more I use them, especially when things get that serious, the more...um...the more fat I burn. I go from thick to thin in minutes at that rate. The cloak just...hid my wings and reduced my height.”

I stared at her for a moment, trying to process this information. A thousand questions buzzed about in my head, so I struggled to settle on one. “...Why did you hide it?” I finally chose. “Because...I don’t want to scare anyone,” she confessed with a sigh. “Especially the people back home. They all knew me as just the big silly redheaded girl who loves to fight and never stops eating, yeah? I can’t imagine how they’d freak out if I came back as an...even bigger redheaded girl who, surprise surprise! She can light herself on fire with a thought without getting burned, and she has giant wings now and can fly!”

I frowned and nodded slightly, understanding the reasoning. She smiled apologetically. “I don’t like keeping secrets, it feels like lying...but you get it, right? People get so afraid and upset over change, and about anyone who’s different…”

A smile of my own crept onto my face as I looked up at her again, unable to hold it back. “I understand, but...is it really that different from being the girl who rattles the whole tavern with a belch, or launches tables and destroys campsites with her flatulence?”

Azalon’s eyes widened and her cheeks turned red. She dropped her jaw open and reached forward to slap me playfully on the shoulder. “Heeeyy! Shut up, you like that about me, hahaha! Besides, only Zale is supposed to tease me for that!” I laughed in return, clutching at my side with a grin. “Well, is it though?” I pressed.

She twisted her lips to one side in a comically dubious look, but considered it for a moment. “...I guess not,” she granted after a moment, smiling again. “I never thought of it that way, I guess...thanks.”

GGgGgGGRrRrrrRRRROoOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAaRRrRRRRGGGGGGGGGGRRRRRROoOOOOOOLlLLLLLLLLLmMMMMMMMRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH~!

I yelped and instinctively grabbed hard at the bedposts as a thunderous, quaking growl seemed to shake the fort’s whole structure, vibrating the bed around me and loosening dust from the ceiling overhead. As it droned and grumbled on, I gradually came to realize from the discomforted look on Azalon’s face and the hand pressed over her newly flat and toned stomach that this was just another of her belly’s complaints!

When her seismic tummy-growl finally ended (after a lengthy 20 seconds or so!), Azalon gave a nervous chuckle and apologized, “OOoOfffghhh...Heheh, sorry...you were out for like an hour and a half, and I still haven’t eaten anything.” “Gods above,” I breathed, gawking at her. “I’ve never heard it that bad before!” “You’ve never seen me this hungry before,” Azalon pointed out, both hands now held over her bared stomach and gently rubbing at it as if to try and calm it down. “Now that I’ve taken the cloak off, nothing is suppressed anymore, so I’m taking the full brunt of all the stunts I pulled trying to get us out of there…and I’m just passively getting hungry faster...” Her eyes were starting to water, and suddenly I felt very bad for her. She must have been almost literally starving!

“Does flying really take that much energy?” I asked with concern. She grimaced and held up a hand with her palm flat, waggling it back and forth. “Eh, flying not so much, but...oofh...the fire blasts and breaking through that rock...plus just all the fighting in general...but I did speed us up a bit when we were flying, and THAT took at least a dozen pounds off…”

I gaped in shock, and then raised my hands to shoo her away. “W-well don’t sit here talking to me, then, go! Eat something! Eat LOTS of something, just don’t starve! I’ve got my spellbook here, I can speed up my own healing!”

The look on Azalon’s face at being released to quell her hunger was one of joyous anticipation. “Okay, yeah, thanks! I’ll be back...uh...later. You rest up! Shasza will bring you some food in a bit!” Standing up from the chair, Azalon almost knocked it over with a wing as she practically sprinted for the door.

Just before she made it there, however, a thought came to my mind and I called out to her with a hand outstretched, “W-wait!” She paused, looking over her shoulder at me and stretching a wing out of the way to see. I blushed in embarrassment, my fingers curling on my outstretched hand. Shyly, I spoke up, “Um...when you said ‘nothing is suppressed anymore’...does that mean-” “That I’ve been holding back~?” the perceptive redhead finished for me, her luscious lips curling into a naughty smile. Her head bobbed up and down in a slow nod. “Mmmhmm~. Don’t worry, Lyriana...you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

The Firehair gave me a sultry, promising wink, and I felt my body quiver with desire and anticipation.

I got the distinct feeling that this was just the beginning of our adventures.

[simplyheretical]

Hey man! Love your work. Are you relocating anywhere after the tumblr purge?

Thanks! I’m going to be setting up a DeviantArt page before too long, once I finally get around to finishing the next part of The Firehair (sorry that’s taking so long by the way, lots of distractions and such lately!).

In the meantime, although there’s nothing on it right now, here’s my Twitter. I’ll try to remember to post things there, but I’ve never really been one to keep up with social media so we’ll see how that goes.

[simplyheretical]

The Firehair, Part 8

I’m going to stop linking the Google Doc in these posts from this point on just because it’s almost 100 pages long now and takes forever to load. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

What you can expect from this story:

F/F 

First-person perspective

Fantasy setting

Unrealistically HUGE Breasts and Ass

Belly Stuffing and Inflation

Stomach Noises

Unrealistic/Hyper Gas (Burping and Farting)

Way too much attempt at actual serious plot between the fetishy parts

Furry/Anthro (Dragon Girl)

The fire spread all throughout the chamber in the blink of an eye, engulfing the entire cavern in a booming explosion. Swirling clouds of flame and noise were all I could see and hear around me for a few seconds straight, the very stone of the caverns around me shuddering and shaking before the explosion died away, leaving only a thick cloud of horribly stinking black smoke covering the whole area. I was spared from the blast by the brief personal barrier I’d put up, but only just barely. The thin, translucent force-field around me had visible cracks like glass, and it flickered dangerously for a moment before fading away, leaving me in the thick smoke. I was safe and alive, true, but I was terrified still; what had happened to Azalon? Or even Shasza? Had either of them survived? I covered my mouth with my sleeve and stood up, trudging slowly, cautiously forward. “Azalon?” I called out hopefully. “Shasza?” The dust and smoke filling the chamber was too thick to see through, but I could tell that the light from Azalon’s sword was still shining -- after all, I could still see that there was smoke. I did my best to move towards the light, my eyes watering and my throat seizing into coughs as the choking cloud burned my nostrils with the combined stench of fire and rotten meat. Igniting Shasza’s miasma of gas had certainly not helped the odor one bit. I heard something moving nearby, different from the noise of loosened rocks and debris settling around me. “Hello?” I spoke up again between coughs, moving towards the sound, half stumbling across the rough, uneven floor. There seemed to be quite a bit of rubble around...

I carried on forward, looking around to try and catch a glimpse of anything, when suddenly I bumped into something in front of me while looking to the side. I stepped back and saw in front of me the haggard, scorched figure of Shasza-Rak standing in front of me amidst the smoke, her emerald scales seared and blackened in many places. The lovely green dress she had been wearing before was now reduced to sooty, singed tatters hanging off of her curvaceous form, leaving most of her naked body underneath exposed. Her large, heavy, human-like breasts hung freely in the open, only inconsequentially covered in small portions by the ragged remains of her dress’s upper half, while most of what was left from the waist down was just a few burnt strips of fabric hanging around her hips. She was hurt, but still standing. What’s more, she didn’t seem to pay any mind to her very poor level of coverage. “Good,” she said with a slight rasp, grimacing in pain whilst clenching the claws on her feet against the stone floor. “You’re alright.” “You’re not, though,” I choked back to her, still coughing from the smoke. “K’haff! Where’s Azalon?” The dragoness’s eyes narrowed in a frown. “Good question...” she snarled, and I could tell her own concern wasn’t with Azalon’s health. She raised her claws into the air, a subtle glow emanating around them. “We have unfinished business!” With a dramatic outward swing of her arms, a gust of air rushed out around her in all directions, clearing the smoke away to the edges of the room in one magical burst. I squeezed my eyes shut as the stinging cloud blew past me, and then looked around the hoard chamber...or what was left of it. Loose rocks and stones were scattered all about, with most of the cave passages branching off from the room collapsed. The pile of gold and treasure that once glimmered so majestically was covered in dust and soot, partially buried under mounds of rock. Some of it was missing entirely, though, seemingly swallowed up by a large hole that had opened up in the floor of the cavern, a product of the apparent cave-in the explosion had created. The opening of the hole was quite large, an irregular pit at least twenty feet across at its widest point and leading down into a black void of shadow. Just a few feet from the pit’s edge was Azalon’s sword, still glowing bright as day...but Azalon herself was nowhere to be seen. I stepped over to the sword, a sinking feeling deep in my stomach as I leaned down and picked up the sword by the hilt. I’d never really looked closely at it before; it was a marvelous blade, to be sure, made from mithral if its remarkably light weight was any indicator. A long grip of fine red leather, a crossguard shaped like a pair of feathered wings with a bright flame-colored gem in the middle. The blade, which was quite long even for a longsword, was set with what looked like magical engravings, and a word in clean script set into the metal just above the crossguard: “Dawnshard.” Oddly enough, as worried as I was about Azalon, just holding her sword comforted me a bit, as if the weapon itself was telling me she was alright. “What nerve!” Shasza scoffed angrily, peering around as I did. “She’s ruined my home! When I find her, I’ll...” Her threatening growl trailed off, and she looked over at me staring at Azalon’s sword. A scaly, ridged eyebrow raised, she stepped over towards me and reached out for the blade. “Come now, Lyriana my love, that silly thing is nothing for you to bother yourself with-aaAaAAghHhsss!” Her light, chiding tone swiftly changed to a painful, sibilant yell, for when she closed her fingers around the sword’s blade, it gave a burning hiss like a hot pan searing meat, steam and smoke rising from Shasza’s palm and fingers even after she yanked them away. There was a residual red-hot, almost angry-looking glow to the metal where Shasza had touched it. Shasza recoiled and grasped at the wrist of her burned hand; no real damage had been done through her armor-like scales, but it certainly looked painful. “I think I’ll hold on to it, thank you,” I told her with a slight glare. The dragoness gave me a petulant huff, sneering at the sword that had rejected her before folding her arms with a pouting “Fine. I don’t want the cursed thing anyway.” With a wary look at Shasza, I turned away and looked to the hole in the floor, stepping up towards the edge. I glanced at Dawnshard in my hand and held it forward, out over the black pit. The light shone down quite a ways into the darkness, illuminating a steep slope downwards quite a distance before the ground started to even out. Azalon was down there, I somehow knew; was it the sword? Could it sense its owner, perhaps? Behind me, I heard Shasza give an irritated grunt. “Ugh, look at this mess. She’s caved in everything, all the exits are blocked! It will take hours to dig through all of this, if our air even lasts that long. And my precious treasure! It’s all filthy and covered in rocks!” I screwed up my face at Shasza dubiously. She’d just half-melted some of it with a toxic fart not even ten minutes ago, and now she was worried about it? Rolling my eyes, I decided not to mention the apparent hypocrisy and instead sat down at the edge of the pit. “I’m going to find Azalon,” I said rather bitingly, feeling no small amount of blame towards the spoiled dragon girl for everything. Seeming to snap out of her fussing, the scaled beauty shifted one of her wings and peered over her shoulder at me. “You’re still worried over her? She almost killed us just now! Well, almost killed you,” she corrected herself pridefully. “The explosion wouldn’t have happened without your gas filling the room,” I reminded her pointedly. She seemed slightly humbled by that, self-consciously averting her eyes; it looked almost like she was blushing. “In any case, yes, I am still worried about her, because she’s my friend! I’m going to find her, with or without your help!” Not even waiting for an answer, I pushed myself forward and started sliding down the slope into the hole with Dawnshard held up above my head, gritting my teeth quietly as I struggled to keep my footing along the bumpy, uneven stone as I went down. The more level ground below approached faster than I expected, sending me stumbling forward when I reached it. Holding up the sword for light, I started searching. Azalon couldn’t have been far, I reasoned… “...OooOhhghh-huUuUUURRRpp-uUuuHhh…” I would have known that belching groan anywhere! “Azalon!” My feet whipped me around to face the source of the noise, and after a short jog forward, there she was! Azalon was lying sprawled on the stone floor just a few yards away from the bottom of the pit’s slope, surrounded by rocks. Her cloak was dusty and ragged, with a few teasing burns and singed edges, and from what I could see her clothes were in a similar state. Yet her shining mithral breastplate seemed barely scratched, and the woman herself...almost unharmed! There was some gravel in her hair, and it looked as though she might have taken a painful bump to the head, but otherwise she looked fine. Not a burn to be found anywhere on her skin. Still, she did seem to be only barely conscious… I shoved away one of the many rocks beside her and knelt down in its place. Behind me, I heard a scrabbling of claws on stone and the flapping of leathery wings — Shasza had followed me down, I gathered with a backwards glance. “I think she’ll be alright,” I said, not that I expected the dragoness to care. Holding a hand out over Azalon, I focused on recalling a minor healing spell. “Why are you bothering?” Shasza huffed, her arms folded again under her bosom. “She’ll just use up what air we have left belching away like she does, the gasbag...” My eyes narrowed as I frowned, but I didn’t look up from my task, my hand hovering over the dazed Azalon’s head as I worked to mend her injuries. “You’re one to talk, Shasza! You haven’t exactly made the impression you’re any different. At least I can breathe when Azalon belches; your gas literally made me pass out when you kidnapped me.” Shasza groaned and scoffed, getting defensive. “Y-yes, but...I can control myself. If I don’t want to pass gas, I don’t. She, on the other hand, will just spew it out of either end at a moment’s notice!” “She’s only bloody human, isn’t she?” I snapped back, glaring over at the scaled woman this time. “Not a ‘mighty dragoness’ like you.” “Hah! ‘Only human?’” Shasza echoed me, seeming quite amused suddenly. “Is that what you think? That’s rich…” My nasty look turned to puzzlement at that. I didn’t spend long thinking about it, though, turning back to helping Azalon recover. Shasza perked up after a moment, seeming to realize something. I could hear her opportunistic smile in her voice. “...You don’t know, do you?” “Know what, exactly?” I rolled my eyes, trying to concentrate. “Aha, haha!” Shasza laughed softly, sounding triumphant now. “Your windy lover’s been keeping secrets from you~!” she teased in a sing-song voice. “My my, it must be something she’s ashamed of...and it figures you, a mortal, wouldn’t be able to see it…” My hand faltered over the bump I’d found on Azalon’s head. As much as I didn’t want to give the dragoness the attention she so clearly craved, she had me curious now. Was there really something Azalon had been hiding from me? If any being could tell something like that, I supposed a dragon would be it… Shaking my head, I snorted dismissively and leaned in closer to Azalon, trying to tune Shasza out. She was just trying to get in my head, I decided. “Oh, come off it,” I grumbled lowly. Then I felt the firm, scaly orbs of Shasza’s breasts pressing against my back as she draped her arms around me, nuzzling her head next to mine over my shoulder. I blushed, freezing up for a moment. She chuckled throatily, then whispered with a husky timbre into my ear, “Haven’t you ever wondered what she’s hiding under that cloak…?” I felt her stomach rumbling against my back, which in itself made my cheeks flush hotter as I knew what was coming. BRrrRUuuUUuuUUueEEeeELllLGggGGhhHHrrRRrfFF~...! Her throat buzzed, and through barely-parted, puckered lips she grumbled out a deep, rolling belch right into my ear, one that rattled and burbled on for a wonderfully long time despite her keeping it to a relatively soft, low force and volume. The thick, green gaseous cloud billowed past my face, giving me quite a strong whiff of her fresh, malodorously vile eructation. Yet despite the awful stench, my knees went weak and I felt myself shuddering with pleasure, barely able to control myself. I chewed my lip, struggling to hold back; this fetish of mine was growing stronger all the time, it seemed. The mass of belch fumes fluttering past my face buffeted down to wash over Azalon’s below me, however, and like a pouch of smelling salts, it seemed to bring her to immediately. She woke with a start, her low, concussed groaning becoming a spluttering, coughing cry of alarm. “Blaa’hak’haff’ghaaAhh!” she choked, a hand raising to her face to cover her mouth and nose. “Pfuegh, I can taste it! Jeez, Lyriana, when did you have liver??” Blushing furiously (though for entirely different reasons than what Azalon had accused me of), I yelped and straightened out abruptly, inadvertently throwing Shasza off of me. The dragoness gave a snicker under her breath as she fell backwards, catching herself with her arms stretched out behind and beneath her to prop herself up from the ground. Her spiny tail gave a victorious swish that lewdly brushed ever-so-slightly across my backside before she stood up. “A-Azalon! Thank goodness, you’re awake!” I blurted with honest relief, watching the armored, buxom woman sit up, which didn’t look easy with how tight her armor was, her huge, curvaceous form positively packed and squeezed into the humongous breastplate. Being this close, I could tell for sure now that even though her belly had already shrunken down to normal, last night’s binge had quite a pronounced effect on her figure. It appeared that Azalea had spoken truly back in Springhaven; everything really DID go straight to her tits and arse. So much so, in fact, that I found it a wonder she was able to get her breastplate on at all, even without the mail or padding beneath it! Though it had fit perfectly before, being expertly shaped and fitted for her thick, amazonian build, it was positively overwhelmed now, being pushed forward away from her body by a dense mass of tightly-squashed bosom. Likewise, behind her as she sat up, her backside jutted out like two plush orbs of flesh just barely halfway covered by her ill-fitting trousers, curving inward around the stubbornly tough, squeezing waistband and somehow still firm and immaculately shaped. Her clothes must have been magically reinforced to be able to withstand such torment, I thought. “Urgh, yeah,” she groaned, rubbing gingerly at her head with a frown. “What happened? Last thing I remember I was coming to find you, and I got into a fight with...with her!” Her eyes opened wide as she spotted Shasza-Rak behind me, and for a moment I was worried she was about to burst into action. “Hey, are you okay, miss dragon ma’am? There was an explosion, right? You didn’t get hurt, did you?” Shasza and I shared the same bewildered reaction to this, and I looked over my shoulder, curious how the dragoness would answer. “...N-no, of course not! I’m made of tougher stuff than you mortals, I have the blood of great green dragons flowing through my ve-” “-Oh, it’s just that you look kinda scorched, is all,” Azalon interjected, looking apologetic. “Sorry.” Watching Shasza stiffen up with embarrassment was rather entertaining, I must admit, as she looked down over herself and harumphed. “I-it’s nothing! I’m fine!” she insisted, quickly waving her claws down over herself and magically cleaning away the soot and blackening of her scales, restoring her dress while she was at it. “Honestly, the gall! To blow me and my home up and then ask if I’m fine! I wasn’t the one knocked out, I’ll remind you!” Azalon blushed, her hand shifting down from the bump on her head to the back of her neck as she rubbed it sheepishly. “Heheh, yeah, sorry about that! I kinda forgot your cave was full of fart, and farts are flammable! I did ask if we could just talk things out, though…” I gave a tired sigh and rolled my eyes, pushing myself up from the floor. “Well, as I’m apparently the only one here with any sense,” I started, glancing between the two women. “I forbid the two of you from fighting. We can’t spare the time right now; we’re caved in and likely running out of air, so we need to find a way out.” Bouncing up nimbly to her feet in a move that shouldn’t have been possible for a woman of her proportions, Azalon gave a simple nod and smile. “Hah, you don’t have to tell me not to fight, silly! But either way, that seems like a good idea. You can introduce me to your dragon friend here while we look! What was your name again, miss? Shasta?” “That’s Shasza-Rak to you, Firehair,” venom dripped from Shasza’s lips (literally) as she pointedly corrected Azalon. “And we’re not friendssss. Lyriana issss mine.” She glared at Azalon with a hiss. Azalon gave the both of us a puzzled look, frowning unhappily at the hostile tone. “Um...okay, whatever you say, Shasza-Rak,” she said, already shifting back to a cheerful, even confident smile. “I guess we’re not friends, then...we’ll be best friends! Just tell me all about yourself, I’ve never met a half-dragon before!” The dragoness gave an aggravated growl and rolled her eyes. With a shake of her head, she shouldered past Azalon and started peering around. “Very well, if it gets you to shut up, I’ll do you the honor of regaling you with stories of my majesty and prowess. Just follow behind me,” she said haughtily, starting for one of the tunnels branching off from the chamber we were in. I wearily rubbed at my temples, but didn’t challenge Shasza. She did have the most experience with caves after all, and she could see in the dark, so she would be the best to head the group. I looked to Azalon and handed Dawnshard back to her. She grinned brightly and accepted the sword, which gave a red-gold flash from its gemstone as if glad to be back in its owner’s possession. With that, we began our search for an exit, though not before Shasza took advantage of her leading position to lift her tail and PFfFrSSsrRRRrAaAaAPpFFTt~ out a foggy miasma straight at Azalon and me with a sway of her hips, both to spite Azalon and tempt me, I surmised. “Phew, gosh!” Azalon commented to me with crossed eyes as she waved at the funk in front of her face, “Wow, that stinks! Heheh, more like Shasza-Rank, right?” she giggled softly, nudging me with an elbow playfully. As we walked on, Shasza, at the front, proudly droned on for some time with stories and claims that were no doubt highly embellished and exaggerated. Her rambling gradually slowed to a stop as her interest waned, although Azalon listened quite eagerly and frequently gave quite enthusiastic responses. I think perhaps the dragoness was growing aggravated at how much she enjoyed her perceived rival’s honest praise and attention...or maybe she just didn’t want to listen to Azalon talk anymore. Possibly both, now that I think of it? The whole time, however, Shasza’s words replayed in my head. ...keeping secrets from you…! ...Haven’t you ever wondered what she’s hiding under that cloak? My eyes wandered to Azalon’s cloak trailing behind her, slightly bunched on the backwards-jutting shelf of her buttocks. She’d certainly been very protective of it, now that I thought about it — always holding it down when her farts would blow it back, not wanting to take it off last night... ...It must be something she’s ashamed of… Curiosity overwhelming me, I bit back a pang of guilt at my nosiness and made a quiet gesture to invoke a spell of magic detection, focusing on Azalon herself as I subtly drifted back behind her. Her body seemed to light up with a plethora of magical auras, even more than showed up on Shasza ahead of her! Surprised, I concentrated, focusing on the auras themselves, the subtle hints in their intensity, the way their energies pulsed and resonated. Shasza displayed an aura of illusion, which appeared to originate from her dress. That wasn’t terribly surprising, I supposed. Azalon, however, had auras emanating from not only her cloak, but all over her. Her sword was magical, of course, but that was obvious even without a detection spell. Like I suspected, her clothes were also enchanted with what looked like a simple durability reinforcement. So, too, was her breastplate magical, with a more advanced form of the same thing, as well a couple of other effects I didn’t immediately recognize. Sure enough, her cloak also had a magical aura about it, and as I studied it, it wasn’t protective or anything so simple. Instead, it had a mixed energy with fractions of illusion and conjuration signatures, like some combination of invisibility and the properties of a magic bag. If I had to guess...it was the sort of enchantment used to conceal things. Then, something occurred to me. None of her equipment gave elemental protection. “A-actually, Azalon...how are you okay?” I wondered aloud finally as we exited a passageway into a yawning cavern, furrowing my eyebrows curiously. I looked up from the cloak on her back to Azalon herself. “You probably took the brunt of the explosion, since your sword started it...but you barely seem hurt at all. Just a bump on the head, no burns.” The bubbly, buxom redhead giggled easily with a shrug that set her breastplate wobbling heavily with the mounds of boobflesh padding it from within, and started to explain. “Oh, no biggie! Fire doesn’t really hurt me at all, bec-...uuhhhh…” she visibly hesitated with a grimace, as if she’d said something she shouldn’t have, and glanced around in a brief panic that gave away how inexperienced she was at lying. “... Beeecaaauuuse of Dawnshard, my sword!” she smiled unconvincingly as she finally settled on an excuse. “Yeah,” she nodded and whipped around away from me, her cloak whooshing into the air with the motion. For a brief moment I saw that familiar flash and shimmer beneath it before she slid the longsword back into its sheath as if to close out the topic entirely, snuffing out its daylight shine. “Dawnshard’s magic protects me from fire! No burning this girl when she’s got her sword!” I blinked in the pitch black, blinded without the blade’s light in the unlit tunnel. “A-Azalon, what are you doing?!” I questioned her frantically, throwing my hands out ahead of me. I staggered to my feet and stumbled forward, groping about for something to hold on to. “There’s no light in here, I can’t see!” “O-Oh! Right, right, sorry!” the absent-minded woman stammered, as if only realizing the darkness when I mentioned it. I felt my hands press into something huge and soft, and as Azalon slid her sword just a couple of inches out of its sheath to serve as a light source, the glow revealed my fingers sinking significantly into her enormously thick, but perfect buns, right before her cloak fluttered back down into place right over my head.. “Lyriana~!” she gasped, a hand lifting up and pressing to her cheek bashfully as she gave a naughty grin. “Why so handsy at a time like this~? And in front of Shasza~!” My cheeks burning hotly again, I stared ahead at the way her cheeks squished around my fingers, making my hands look positively tiny, like an infant’s hands on a pair of oversized watermelons. I was breathing heavily, and my excitement apparently overrode my polite and courteous instincts because rather than pulling away, my first move was to dig in further! Her ass was incredibly satisfying, soft and smooth and absolutely humongous, yet wonderfully dense and firm; I could have bounced a gold coin off of it with ease! BBbBRRrRAaAAAAaAaaaAapPppPpFfffFFrrOOOoOMmMpPPpPpRrrrrRRTT~! A thundering, gassy rumble rattled and vibrated and jiggled her magnificent cheeks right against my hands, sent into a clapping quake by a sudden, blasting fart that hit me dead-on, first blowing back my hair and engulfing me in sweltering, hazy heat for a few moments, and then physically sliding me back along the cave floor several feet with its sheer wind-power. My heels caught on the uneven stone and I was bowled over flat on my arse while the blisteringly hot eruption carried on for the better part of ten more seconds. I looked up at Azalon, still breathing heavily (and thus inhaling the hot, but mild scent). She was holding her cloak down against her backside as usual, and her blush mirrored mine. “Sorry! I’m still a little gassy…” she stifled a giggle and threw me a meaningful wink as I stood up with the help of the angrily glaring Shasza-Rak. Even after it had ended, Azalon’s fart was still echoing loudly like a mountaineer’s horn through the caves far and wide through at least a half-dozen tunnels, passages, and openings branching off from the open cavern we had come to! “You see?” the dragoness muttered lowly to me. “I told you she’d just gas up our remaining-...wait…” Shasza stopped, her serpentine tongue flicking out briefly and her slitted eyes narrowing. Frowning with slight worry, I started to say something, but before I could even get a word out, one of Shasza’s scaly palms clapped over my mouth while the other made a rapid, glowing gesture in the air. I heard her voice reverberate in my head, <Quiet! Don’t make a sound!> Noticing that her lips hadn’t moved at all, I reasoned she must have been using a telepathy spell, something I’d heard of but never learned myself. <What is it?> I concentrated to ‘think’ in response, able to feel the connection the spell had formed between the three of us now. <Morlocks,> the dragoness answered with a grave scowl. I looked out around us with trepidation, listening in the silence. This chamber was quite large, and Dawnshard’s light didn’t reach far enough to light the whole area, especially given the scattered stalagmites and rock formations casting long shadows around the place. I couldn’t see anything, but...I thought I could hear scratching in the dark… <Morlocks?> Azalon’s voice piped in, asking before I could and sounding somewhat afraid for the first time that I’d heard. She looked back towards the two of us with nervous hesitation. <What are Morlocks?> <Creatures of the dark, deep earth,> Shasza answered grimly, her nostrils flaring with defensive seriousness as she fixed her gaze at various points around the room one after another. <They must have heard your ‘outburst.’ They are the Blind Ones. Sightless, but they don’t need eyes. They can hear a beating heart like a beckoning whisper, and pinpoint prey from the slightest noises. What’s more, they can smell warm blood as if it were a nice, hot meal, fresh and ready to eat.> I saw Azalon’s expression shift from uneasy to visibly upset as she turned back around and quietly drew her sword fully from its scabbard again, holding it up in both hands defensively. <Okay, that’s really helpful to know, but did you HAVE to say it all scary like that?> I couldn’t blame Azalon; I was starting to shake myself. I could still hear the scratching and scraping like claws on stone, practically all around us now. They must have been everywhere, but I couldn’t see them. Then there was movement just at the shadow’s edge, a brief flicker of pale flesh. Then another, and another, until before I knew it, hideous, lanky shapes were starting to lope and creep into view. <Just stay silent if you want to live,> Shasza warned us. <Don’t move. Don’t breathe, if you can help it. I can try to mask our scent from them, and they may leave.> I glanced up at Shasza, becoming seriously afraid now as the slinking, man-sized figures wandered around, more and more becoming visible as they sniffed about for us. Trying my best to stop myself quivering, I asked her worriedly, <But you’re a dragoness, aren’t you? Can’t you scare them away?> As Shasza’s green eyes looked down to me, I saw proud stoicism at first...but also a flicker of apprehension. <Not this many.>

[simplyheretical]

The Firehair, Part 7

Want to read the whole thing start to finish? Here's the Google doc.

What you can expect from this story:

F/F

First-person perspective

Fantasy setting

Unrealistically Large Breasts and Ass

Belly Stuffing and Inflation

Stomach Noises

Unrealistic/Hyper Gas (Burping and Farting)

Way too much attempt at actual serious plot between the fetishy parts

Starting in this part: Furry/Anthro (Dragon Girl)

I woke up to the sound of...birds?

My eyes opened slowly, and as the blur of my vision cleared I saw myself surrounded by green silken sheets, and drapes hanging down from a canopy of fine wooden posts all around me. I was...in a bed, with my head laying on a pile of soft, plush velvet pillows.

A faint remnant of that vile stench from before still clung to my nostrils, but I could also smell flowers, maybe some sort of pleasant perfume. Past the drapery hanging from the bed canopy overhead, I could see I was in some sort of room, well lit with sunlight from an open window to my left. Thick, rounded stone walls, a lovely hardwood floor with fancy rugs. It was like a rich noble’s manor bedroom, almost like my own back home but perhaps a bit fancier, and gaudier.

Shifting in the sheets, I realized as the silk glided across my skin that I was naked underneath them. Looking around, I saw my clothes sitting on the table beside the bed, neatly folded and seemingly cleaned. Just as I started to sit up in the bed, the door at the far end of the room started to open, and I smelled something delicious coupled with a voice calling in a gentle sing-song, “Wakey wakey, eggs and bacon!”

I quickly clung to the sheets, pulling them up around my bare chest. As the door softly swung inward, a woman entered the room carrying, sure enough, a plate of fresh-cooked eggs and strips of bacon. She looked to be about my height, with long, relatively straight black hair and bright green eyes above high cheekbones and small, but perfectly shaped lips. A flowing, floor-length dress hugged her slender frame from the waist up, showing her to be thin and svelte but curvy, with plump, full breasts pushed up almost invitingly by her bodice such that a few teasing inches of cleavage were on ready display. From her hips down, the dress flared out to an elegant, broad skirt that stopped just an inch off the ground. The whole garment was resplendent emerald-green satin that matched her eyes, with accents and embroidery of gold.

She was...beautiful!

“I know the rhyme is ‘bakey,’” she conceded as she walked forward towards me. “But it sounds childish; I’d rather be correct.” The woman maintained a measured, cocky smile as she held out the plate towards me. “Here you are, milady, some breakfast. You must be hungry, after sleeping so long.”

Confused, I gingerly reached out and took the plate with one hand, the other still holding the sheets in place for my decency. I peered down at the food suspiciously. It looked normal enough, and I was indeed hungry...was this a dream? “I...thank you?” I said uncertainly, looking up at her quizzically. “Um...where am I? How long have I been asleep? And...who are you?”

“You’re safe,” the woman answered cryptically, maintaining her smug smile as she stepped back and dipped down onto a cushioned chair a few feet away. Her legs crossed under her skirt daintily and her hands folded in her lap as she sat back and watched me as I took a few careful bites of the breakfast she’d given me. “That’s all that really matters.”

That answer did not comfort me. “Safe from what?” I pressed. “Your pursuers, of course,” the woman answered as if it were trivial. “I’ve had my eye on you for a while now, milady Lyriana. Yours is a dreadful situation indeed for someone like you. But you needn’t worry, none of that will matter now. Here with me, you’ll be just fine...”

“And who are you?” I asked again, still suspicious. The well-dressed stranger paused. “Oh, yes,” she chuckled with a smirk. “You did ask that, didn’t you? You may call me...Shasza.”

I tried not to frown, still a bit uneasy. Something was wrong about this, about her, I could feel it. Still, I nodded, deciding it best to play along for now. “Well, um...Shasza...my thanks for the breakfast in bed. It’s quite good, actually.”

“A-ha-ha,” Shasza laughed huskily again. “Of course. It wouldn’t do for you to starve, would it?” “I...heheh, no,” I answered a bit awkwardly, finding her tone rather odd. I worked at finishing the breakfast she’d given, washing it down with a cup of clear water that she had also provided (in a golden goblet set with jewels, no less!). She watched me the whole time in an odd fashion, as though she was waiting patiently for me to finish. Uncomfortably, I ate the whole time with one hand as I kept myself covered I set the plate aside, offering a polite smile. “That was nice, thank you...I’m sure you must have breakfast of your own to eat, and I’d like to get dressed, so—” “Oh, no,” Shasza shook her head with that same smug smile, interrupting me without a second thought. “It’s quite alright. I’ve already eaten.” She lifted a hand to her chest, splaying her fingers out and pressing them just above her bosom, and turned her head minimally to her left. Her luscious brownish-pink lips parted slightly...

BhuuUaaAAaaAaAaAeEEEEEEEEEeeeEEEEeeeEeeEEeeeRrrPpPpp~!

A deep, boisterous belch rumbled and burst out of Shasza’s throat, strong and airy with an almost chunky quality to it, rushing out in a billowing cloud of visible green fumes! It started out relatively soft and then grew in size and force and volume to a bellowing eructation as the gas spread through the room before gradually calming again to a smooth close as if she were in perfect control. As the smoky cloud reached me I caught its smell: pungent and thick and horrid, carrying the scent of food but also a foul, rotten, almost acrid undertone.

It lasted for ten long seconds, and each passing one of them I felt my body heating up with excitement, desire, and lusty awe. Even with the dense, literal fog of odor it carried, I relished the sight and sound too much. Then, after it was over, she looked at me with those confident green eyes, her lips closed again into a smile that was no longer just smug or cocky but knowing and proud. She knew.

Feeling my face already obviously flushed, I squirmed and hesitated slightly, wafting the fumes from my face. They were already starting to dissipate, I presumed thanks to the window’s natural airflow. “P-pardon you, hah...heh...” I said in a nervous half-joke.

“Pardon me?” she echoed me questioningly, raising one eyebrow ever so slightly. Her smile spread, and the look in her eyes was one like a predator who’d just caught her prey; she definitely knew. Then, with a breathy, seductive, yet vaguely serpentine sibilance, she added, “Why? I don’t believe I ssssaid that...”

Even with the gaseous fumes of Shasza’s humongous burp fading away, the smell was still quite strong. She stared at me, fixated, waiting for my reaction. Nervously, I looked over to the night-stand where my clothes were folded up, and I repeated myself, “I...I’d really quite like to put my clothes on, if you’d give me some privacy?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I suppose if it makes you more comfortable,” she oh-so-graciously said, standing up again and resting a hand on one hip. Her posture and bearing whilst she turned and walked towards the door suggested she was trying to appear noble and refined, though I could pick out a dozen errors here and there that gave away her flawed imitation. Still, she certainly moved with a smooth grace, and the swish and sway of her accentuated hips in that dress weren’t unpleasant to watch.

I leaned to one side as she went through the door, trying to see out to where she was going, but it was no use. It just looked black, like whatever was through that door was pitch black. Not to be discouraged, I waited until I heard the door fully close before casting aside the silken bed sheets and swinging my legs out to stand up. I grabbed the pile of my clothes and laid them out on the bed

I dressed over the next couple of minutes, trying to think over what I was going to do. I needed to get out of there. I knew that much; whoever this ‘Shasza’ was, I didn’t trust her. She seemed...off. I needed to get back to Azalon somehow.

I gasped to myself, remembering the last night with a blush. Azalon! Had she been taken, too? How would I find her again? Shasza didn’t seem forthcoming with answers for questions, so for all I knew I could be halfway across the kingdom -- or the world!

Questions, questions, and questions buzzed in my head, but solutions evaded me. I of course didn’t have my smallsword or my spellbook, as I’d left those in my bedroom at the fort. All I could rely on was my own wits and the few simple spells I could remember and cast with words and gestures alone.

I moved over to the window and peered outside, hoping for some clue, but found the surroundings ultimately vague and indistinct. There were trees below, and the sky was a light, early morning blue. I would have leaned outside were the opening wide enough, but it was all I could do to press myself to the wall and squint against the sunlight.

“Enjoying the view?” I heard Shasza’s husky voice from behind me and whirled around. There she was, standing just a foot or so away; I hadn’t even heard the door open!

I gulped and nodded, my hands fidgeting uncomfortably with one another under her intense gaze. She still had that easy, smug smile as she looked me over, and now that we were both standing I noticed she was around my own height. I couldn’t place why, but even just standing in such close proximity to this woman, face to face, suddenly made me feel very afraid. “I-it’s nice, yes...”

Her petite nostrils flared slightly, and she raised an eyebrow. It was like she could smell my fear. “Excellent. I was so hoping you’d like your accommodations here. Not that I couldn’t make some alterations for your comfort, but we’ll have all the time in the world to figure that out as I prepare more permanent quarters for you...” “Permanent?” I echoed her, my eyes widening. “What do you mean?” “Why, you’re going to live here, of course!” Shasza chuckled. “With me!” She grinned, seeing my frightened reaction to this. “Oh, don’t worry; I don’t want to hurt you at all. I was speaking truly when I said you were safe here.”

I felt my heart beating faster and faster, starting to panic. “I-I don’t want to stay here,” I stammered and shook my head. “I don’t know you, I don’t even know where ‘here’ is!”

Her confidence seemed to falter, and her smile with it. There was a flash of shock on her face, then anger, followed quickly by a more contemplative frown. “I...well you don’t know me yet, I suppose that’s true. Don’t worry, though,” she said again, raising a hand as if trying to calm me. “It’s going to be alright. We’ll get to know each other very well before lo--wha-huh?”

Not letting her finish, I blurted an incantation and lunged forward, phasing straight through her body and rushing for the door. She was caught off-guard, shivering at the sensation of me passing through her, and by the time she had turned around I was already throwing the door open and rushing out into the darkness.

The light from the room didn’t seem to penetrate into the hallway at all, and I could feel the floor under my feet was uneven but still hard, like rough, unworked stone. A damp funk of mildew wrinkled my nose. Unable to see even a foot in front of me, I uttered another magic word as I flung the door shut behind me and conjured a small orb of light while I hurried forward.

The walls around me were uneven, bare stone, some of it shimmering wet, and so was the ceiling and the floor beneath me. It was some kind of cave, which just made me all the more confused. I heard the door opening behind me and ran, stumbling over the uneven stone as I rushed to get away.

“Wait!” I heard Shasza crying out behind me, her footsteps echoing as she gave chase. “Stop, you’ll hurt yourself!”

I gave no answer, just running and following the light floating ahead of me. Shasza seemed to be growing angry with me. “Hey! I ssssaid sssstop!” she hissed vehemently, her voice growing louder — she was gaining on me, I thought!

What I failed to see even with my magical illumination, however, was the steep drop coming up. Only too late did I try to stop myself, and before I knew it I was sliding and tumbling over the edge, falling into the darkness, screaming...

Then I heard a heavy, leathery flapping, and something caught me. I still screamed, especially upon opening my eyes. With the light having followed me, I could see what had caught me: its head was beastly, covered in scales and spurs and horns of bone, with vicious serpentine eyes. Huge, scaly, bat-like wings were attached to its back, flapping as we continued to descend, and it gripped me in its arms tightly. It glared down at me, baring its many ferocious teeth as it spoke: “You mortalsss are ssso sssstubborn.”

That was...Shasza’s voice! Deeper, booming, more snake-like, but it was her! I looked up at the creature in disbelief, and within a few seconds its wings ceased flapping and I realized we had reached solid ground. I was put down, and I shakily backed away, not quite willing to run anymore. The light shone on the reptilian creature, and I realized it was indeed Shasza — she was still wearing that lovely emerald dress.

Taking a moment to get a better look at her, I realized her form wasn’t quite as monstrous or beastly as I had first taken it to be. In fact, she largely kept the same general proportions as before, except now she was...scaly, with wings, horns, a mouth that was more of a snout, and judging by the way her skirt was moving behind her, a tail. She even still had her shimmering black hair, and her plump, full breasts, all her feminine curves.

“I...what...what are you?!” I blurted fearfully, still panting for breath.

Shasza’s nostrils flared with a snort that seemed equal parts frustrated and disappointed, and she folded her arms under her breasts almost like she was...pouting. The corners of her mouth curled into a frown. “This isn’t how this was supposed to happen, hmph!” she huffed, her wings folding behind her. “But fine...it will have to do.”

“A new introduction is in order,” she decided, seeming to center herself again. With a hefty dose of clear, self-absorbed pride, she spread her clawed arms dramatically. “I am Shasza-Rak, daughter of the great green dragon Koth-Arasz!”

My eyes widened and I took another step back. “Y-you’re a dragon?” I quavered, understanding my fear earlier even better now.

“A mighty dragoness, yesss! With a hoard to match!” Shasza hissed proudly in reply, spreading her scaly ‘lips’ in a toothy grin. She swung one of her arms out behind her in a grandiose gesture, and another orb of light appeared as if she had willed it into existence. There, in a vast pile against the cavern wall, was a glimmering mountain of treasure. Coins of silver and gold, jewels of all colors (mostly green, I noticed), chests and goblets and baubles of gold, gold, and more gold...

Then, a moment of hesitation. “Well...half-dragoness, technically,” she corrected herself. “But yes! What you saw before was a shape I took to comfort you. I know how pitiful and afraid you mortals become in the presence of draconic greatness. Am I not magnificent to behold in my true form?”

I gulped. I would be lying if I said she wasn’t impressive to look at, and there was certainly still an allure to her. The shining emerald green of her scales in the light was lovely, and her dragon-like head was...strange, and different, terrifying even if she were to turn against me, but not hideous. “I-I...yes, you...are,” I stammered, in no small part to stay on her good side. Then, my fear got the better of me and I found myself asking, “Y-you’re not going to e-eat me, are you?” The look on Shasza’s face could only be described as shocked disgust as her lips twisted into a lopsided snarl and she raised an eyebrow over her slitted eyes. “Eat you? Ugh, gods no!” she wrinkled her reptilian nose and shook her head, making a face like a child who had just tasted something vile. A dragon child, I supposed. “No, I’ve tried eating you mortal races in the past, but blech! Your kind taste horrible! Gave me the worst gas, too — aha, although maybe you wouldn’t mind that so much, hmm?”

I blushed and frowned uncertainly at her teasing. For all her smug pride and intimidating visage, Shasza seemed...different than I imagined a dragon, or even a half-dragon, might be. The way she acted and spoke was almost juvenile in some ways, like a teenager. “I...s-so why did you bring me here?”

“Because I like you,” the half-dragoness answered plainly. “And what dragons like, they take. At first, of course, I just wanted you for my collection. What better addition to it than a lovely noble girl, and the daughter of a great human hero at that? But then as I watched you more, I felt a bit more...personally drawn.”

She frowned poutily again. “I thought you would be more grateful than this, you know. I saved your life — twice, now! And I’m offering you the chance to live here with me, to be the pampered consort of the mighty Shasza-Rak! But here you are, just shaking like a leaf.”

“Consort?” I echoed her choice of word in disbelief. “You want me to...what, marry you? Be your l-lover? You kidnapped me!”

“I sssaved you!” she snapped back at me, like a spoiled nobleman’s daughter who expected everything to go her way. “You were hiding out there in that awful run-down hovel of a fortress waiting for those pathetic cult worms to find you again. Now they can’t find you! Even if they could, they couldn’t possibly get to you through me!”

“But I had Azalon to protect me!” I protested, my hands curling into fists. “Where is she, anyway? What did you do with her?”

“Ugh, that ridiculous, smiling, airheaded, red-haired bimbo pig?” Shasza rolled her eyes, sounding more than a little jealous. “Of course you’d fall for her and her giant balloon tits and huge, fat arse. I just left her there at the fort, why would I want competition? You were all I wanted...”

My cheeks reddened further; it didn’t quite sound like I was all she wanted, by her tone, but maybe it really was just competitive jealousy. Still, it was good to know that Azalon was alright. But how would I get back to her?

“She only saved you once, you know,” Shasza pointed out. “When your caravan was attacked. Then in town it was her sister that rescued you.” She had been watching me that entire time? “But I’ve saved you twice! Shouldn’t that earn me some gratitude?”

For a moment I stood there, hesitant. As misguided as Shasza was, she seemed sincere about trying to win me over. She really did seem to want to keep me out of harm’s way. She was still a dragoness, of course, half-breed or not, and so she was dangerous. I decided to play along at least for the time being. “I...you’re right, I should thank you for catching me,” I granted her. “You have my gratitude for that, and...for trying to help me. But...watching me from the shadows —” “Only sometimes,” Shasza hastened to correct me. “Mostly I was scrying on you.”

“Regardless,” I continued, trying to remain gentle but firm as I made my point. “Being spied on doesn’t make me very predisposed to...fall in love with you,” I said. “If anything, it’s the opposite!”

Shasza’s eyes narrowed dangerously at this, and she made a move as if to reply, but stopped herself. She was making an effort to seem more approachable and less terrifying, I realized. “I...I suppose I can understand that. But I keep an eye on all who pass through my lands! And how else was I to learn about you so I would know how to win your love?”

“By talking to me, and getting to know me directly?” I suggested with some exasperation. “But I’ve never...been with a dragon before—” “Nor I with a mortal before!” Shasza again interjected. “I know nothing of your human courting rituals but from your bards and minstrels with their songs! But my father Koth-Arasz laid with a human woman, and here I am...a half-dragoness, all the closer to you and your kind in form and mind. I’m sure I could learn! And this feeling I have when I look at you, it’s like nothing I’ve known before!” She stepped forward and gently took my hand, earnest emotion now shining in her eyes. “Dragons mate but for pride and power and having young...but my human side must have given me this, and I know it must be love!”

I couldn’t help but blush and feel a tingle of emotion at that. I wasn’t even sure what to call it: excitement, awe, surprise? Not love, I knew, but something. Appreciation perhaps; as many suitors as I’d had growing up, none had proclaimed their ‘love’ for me quite so...convincingly as this. I frowned, feeling almost apologetic as I looked up to her. “But...like you said earlier,” I reminded her, “I’ve fallen for Azalon. I’ve spent time with her, gotten to know her, we’ve laughed together, even if it wasn’t for very long —” “—she burped at you, and farted, and stuffed herself, and seduced you with her gas,” Shasza frowned, glaring as she drew her own conclusion. My blush deepened as she let go of my hand, knowing what she was saying certainly wasn’t wholly untrue. The half-dragoness stepped back, spreading her arms again; I saw visible green fumes starting to rise around her, billowing up gently from the small gap between her skirt and the ground, as if the gaseous cloud was filling up her dress. Was she...?

Before I could finish forming the question in my thoughts, the rising miasma’s scent reached my nose and I knew the answer. Shasza spread her wings and grinned, announcing dramatically, “If that’s what it takes to earn your affection, my lady Lyriana...then I think it’s time you experienced what real ‘Dragonwind’ is!”

“Have a seat,” Shasza bade me, more of a command than a request as evidenced by the invisible force pushing me backwards and down onto an outcropping of stone. “And behold!” The fume clouds misting up from under her dress intensified, and shortly thereafter the her skirt began to flutter. I became aware of a low, airy rumbling the more her skirt flapped around her, and I knew my assumption before was correct!

PPppffffaaaabbbbrrrrrttttt-

It built in volume and force steadily, and all I could do was watch as her foul, green, foggy gas spread around her, especially behind her once she lifted her tail! I wasn’t about to stop her, after all...

-bbbBBBbRRrrRPppPPPPTTtttFfFfRoOOOoOOoOOPPPPTTT-

As the seconds rolled on, so did her trumpeting, brassy fart. It went on and on, passing twelve seconds in length before finally starting to waver and shake. Despite her prideful presentation, I could see Shasza starting to strain a bit as she squinted slightly and her lips twitched, until finally she cut the boisterous blast off abruptly.

-PPRrFfFbb--bbrrrRraaAaaApP--ppttttTtfurruuUUPpFfP~!

The half-dragoness visibly relaxed a little, and her gaze returned to me with a smile, as if seeking approval. I couldn’t deny it, it was quite impressive, especially the fact that it was meant explicitly to impress me! Despite the horrid, rank smell (now I knew how she’d knocked me out originally to take me from the fort!) that the thick, humid clouds of fumes she produced had, I was still enticed. Most of all, though, I wondered how she would end up comparing to Azalon...?

“Hah...that pitiful, cheery cow Azalon may need to stuff herself silly to get going,” Shasza chuckled, grinning at me still with those sharp teeth. “But I-” Pffrrt~! “-born of green dragon blood, have total-” PfrbbRBTTT~! “-and complete-” FrrreeeEeEEpPPPp-prrRaaABbfFppp~! “-unf, control!” BLLlrRRAaAaaAAAppFFfrRrRrTT~!

With every mid-sentence outburst of gas, she swung her svelte hips to one side and took a step forward towards me, eyes staring into mine with a predatory desire. Then, on the final step, she spun gracefully around and bent her pleasantly ample backside towards me with her tail raised (and her skirt therefore hiding nothing!), unleashing the last cloudy expulsion straight into my face. I leaned back and turned my head, but the gust of fumes enveloped my head regardless, blinding me for a few moments, filling my nostrils with her noxious scent, and sending me into a brief coughing fit. In terms of what I could feel, the fart was like a warm, humid breeze, not nearly as explosively, quakingly powerful as the last enormous one I’d witnessed Azalon release but still far greater than any normal human could produce (at least that I knew of).

I waved my hands in front of my nose and coughed, squinting in the eye-watering humidity of her stinking effluvium as it slowly cleared away from me. When I finally breathed some fresh(er) air and opened my eyes fully again, there she was, facing me directly again with her big, slitted green eyes looking into mine. “Of course,” she went on, “If you prefer, or just need variety... BheeAaAARrrrRGggWwaaAARPP~!” Before I knew it, I was being buffeted by her suffocating gassy miasma again along with some saliva now, almost gagging; her belches smelled nearly as vile as her farts! 

And yet, she was still making me wet! Curse my ever-increasing perversions!

Watching me cough and recoil and hearing my groans, Shasza seemed upset. “What’s the problem? You aren’t enjoying my efforts to please you?” I breathed slowly, trying to catch my breath as her gassy assault had ironically knocked the wind out of me. “Guh, ugh, g’hak! N-no, it’s not that,” I shook my head, wiping at my brow. “It’s just...eugh, the smell! What have you been eating?” For once, Shasza actually seemed somewhat...embarrassed? I couldn’t quite see a blush on her scaly, draconic face, but her expression said it all. “I...I think you’ll find it has very little to do with what I’ve eaten,” she huffed haughtily, folding her arms proudly. “That’s just...the...power a-and intensity of a dragoness!" she said, as if coming up with the excuse on the spot. "It’s what keeps lesser creatures away from a green’s territory, tells them a superior being is near! Don't worry my dear, it won't poison you...” Poison? I paled a little at that thought, and remembered: while other breeds of dragon were known for breathing fire or frost or even lightning, green dragons had breath of pure poison, sometimes so caustic it could cause things to dissolve! I grimaced, suddenly afraid again. What if she were to accidentally let slip some of that at me? I didn’t want to die from a fart! “Y-you’re...quite sure there’s no chance you’ll poison me by accident?” I asked, voicing my concern. The dragoness scoffed, planting her claws on her hips. “Of course I am! The poison isn’t something I hold back, it’s something I put in. If you’d like a demonstration...” she grinned slowly, bending forward towards me. Alarmed, I started to protest, but she put a clawed finger over my lips and pressed herself against me suggestively, with her plump, scaly breasts pushing softly at my collarbone. Our faces were very close for a moment, and then she slid her draconic head over my shoulder so that mine went over hers. I was looking down her back at her bared rear, her skirt still lifted high in the back by her raised tail. “Thisss isss the power of true ‘Dragonwind,’” she whispered to me with what almost sounded like a hissing purr, just behind my ear. She gave her ample bum a suggestive wiggle, and I heard a soft grunt before a blasting, wet fart came roaring out of her. FffffrrrrrrrrsSsSSsspppPpPLLaaAAaAARRRRRPPPKSSHHMMPPFFFfffbbBBlLLBLbLBLRrreeEeEPppLLlTTT~! It was quite the unique perspective to watch her display from, and a display it certainly was with the thick, green fog that came with every gassy episode she had. This one was different, however. The color of her gas (which is a phrase I had never expected to use) was brighter, more like a yellowish, brownish green, and the smell, while still just as horrible, now had a sharp, sort of acrid quality to it. I fearfully leaned my head back, but Shasza held me in place and thankfully none of the hazardous gaseous mist came towards me. Instead, it all blew hard away from her, gusting outwards from her bottom in a vaguely cone-shaped blast that engulfed a sizable section of her treasure pile at the opposite side of the cavern chamber. I watched as the noxious, toxic fumes blew across the metal and gold, and gradually I could see that segment of the pile starting to melt and corrode and dissolve! It was a very slow process, certainly not as effective as true acid, but by the end of her fifteen-second release she had warped and partially dissolved hundreds of coins and several other expensive pieces of treasure, all of it ruined by common standards. Only the gemstones seemed unscathed. She didn’t seem to mind, though — I suppose if anything, it was less likely to be stolen by wandering adventurers now. Shasza gave a low sigh and pulled back from me again, staring at me with her sultry, serpentine eyes. “Magnificent, isn’t it? I can protect you and please you at the same time. All you have to do is let me.” Her fingers gently brushed across my cheek and I felt my cheeks burning with a blush. Shasza was certainly serious about this, I had to give her that. My body, at the very least, was telling me “Yes” more and more emphatically with every demonstration she gave, and the sense of pride alone that came with a dragoness being so infatuated with me was intoxicating. But...I had just confessed my deep attraction to Azalon the night before. I chewed my lip nervously, far more torn than I likely should have been over the dilemma. With Shasza so close, I could hear her insides churning with gas (could she control that too?) just before she let half of a grumbling belch fill her closed mouth before she parted her lips and blew the rest into my face (”BmmMmMrrRgghh-rrRreEeehHhHppP~!”) I bit down harder on my lip, both from excitement and the awful odor. As horrible as that smell was, though, I was starting to think I could get used to it...if I could get past the watering in my eyes and the light-headedness... Shasza stopped suddenly. She looked puzzled about something, then alarmed, and shot up to her feet. I was confused, and at first as she whirled around and her wings passed over my head I couldn’t tell what was bothering her. Then I heard it, faintly in the distance, echoing dimly in the caves and tunnels connecting to Shasza’s hoard chamber: “Hello? Hellooooo? Is somebody down here? Lyrianaaaaa? Lyyyrriiiaaaanaaaa!” I gave a gasp of startled joy, and Shasza growled. That was Azalon’s voice! I sat forward, leaning around from behind Shasza to see. Then came a loud, roaring noise thundering through the passages, deep and powerful and forceful and long. BbbrrrooOooOOoOOOmMMMmmMMMppPPp-PPTttTtrrRrRrFFfff-FrrrRRROooOOoAaAaAAAAARrrRppPPPpbBBTtTTT~! “Oogh, phew, hope no one heard that...!” And that was most definitely an Azalon fart, I knew with growing excitement! Things were about to get interesting...

“Azalon!” I cried out, jumping to my feet and scampering forward towards the opening I heard the sound coming from. “Azalon, in here! This wa-”

“No!” Shasza snapped, rushing forward to me and clapping a clawed hand on my shoulder to interrupt me. “I don’t want that airheaded windbag in here! She’ll just try to take you away!”

It was too late, though. A bright light was starting to shine from the dark passage, and Azalon was calling out again. “Lyriana! Is that you? I hear you! I’m coming!” Her footsteps came faster, louder, closer. The light in the tunnel grew stronger, until it burst into the cavern chamber and illuminated the whole area in perfect clarity like the midday sun, although this only served to make the lingering green fumes of Shasza’s draconic flatulence more visible.

There at the center of the light was Azalon, holding her glowing sword up high. Her fiery red-orange hair was a sight for sore eyes, but I did notice that while she was wearing her breastplate for protection, it looked oddly tight on her and the mail underneath was conspicuously missing. Moreover, though, the enormous, bloated globe of a gut I’d last seen her with seemed to be completely gone!

As she entered the hoard chamber, Azalon’s nose wrinkled and her face twisted into a grimace. “Oh gosh!” she exclaimed as one gloved hand rose to pinch her nose. “It smells like fart in here! And I thought it was bad back there!”

Shasza snarled and pulled around in front of me, spreading her scaled wings wide with a hiss. “How dare you come barging into my home uninvited!” she snapped, baring her teeth. “Leave at once!”

“No!” I interrupted, pushing past Shasza. “You can’t keep me here!”

“Lyriana? Wait, who’s this?” Azalon blurted, looking confused. “Is she a dragon? Woah, that’s cool! Urgh, how can she live here with this smell, though?”

Though Azalon’s question was innocently genuine, it only incensed Shasza even further. “How dare you mock me! Lyriana, stay back!” she glared at me briefly before lunging forward. The dragoness reared her head back and belted out a poison-spewing belch directly at Azalon, who seemed so caught off-guard she made no visible attempt to avoid it, simply turning away and shielding her face. BLEEAAAAARRRGGPP~!

The acrid yellow-green fog rolled like a wave over Azalon, but when it passed she remained simply standing there as if unaffected — other than gagging at the stench, and some holes melting through a few spots of her clothes. “Augh, blegh!” the redhead spat, covering her mouth and nose with her free hand again. “No wonder it stinks so bad in here! What was that for?! What’s going on?”

Shasza’s eyes widened angrily, surprised that her poison hadn’t done the trick, but not letting up in her assault. She flew forward with claws ready, roaring furiously, which finally seemed to tip Azalon off that she was being attacked!

Azalon gave an alarmed yelp as she ducked back from the first swipe of Shasza’s claws, then twisted away from the next. “W-what? Ack! We’re fighting now?!” she half-panicked as she dodged and weaved just out of the dragon girl’s reach again and again, moving with speed and agility one would never expect from a woman of her height and build. She made a few token swings of her sword, mostly to deflect Shasza’s claws here and there, as she backed away from her unexpected enemy. “Wait a second! Can’t we talk about this?!”

“Shasza, stop!” I called out pleadingly, but to no avail. The dragoness seemed too focused on her perceived foe, enraged at the notion of having competition over me (or so I took it, at least).

Azalon stammered in agreement as she bent and twisted her body this way and that to avoid being hit. “I-I agree with Lyriana! Stop!” she implored Shasza. Though I knew Azalon was ultimately of a gentle nature, I did wonder why she wasn’t actually fighting back. Then as she kept going, it became clear. “Oofh, jeez! M-miss, um...Shasza? I-I’m really not in any shape for a fight right now! Woah! I just had a — eep! — really big meal not too long ago, and — yipe! — all this moving around and — ack! — dodging is making my tummy —”

Before Azalon could finish her statement, Shasza threw another wild swipe with her claws and followed up with a lash of her tail with its sharp spines, prompting Azalon to double over forward to duck under the attacks. This seemed to be the last straw, though, and Azalon clutched at her breastplate over her stomach. The look on her face was one of deep strain, and I could hear her guts churning from where I stood several meters away. GrrRrrOooOOOooOOLlllGgGllll...

Shasza, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice, and was already leaping into the air and flapping her wings as she moved to descend for another attempted strike. “Why won’t you just hold still?!” she demanded as she opened her maw wide for a lunging bite at exactly the wrong time.

BHhWWwAAAAAaaaAaAAAuUUUuUUUUuUUUUuUUURrRRRRRrRRRRrGGgHHh~!!

The strain on Azalon’s face turned to blissful, blushing relief as her esophagus quaked out a bellowing belch, maybe the loudest one I’d heard from her yet! It echoed in the caverns around us, and carried enough power that when it blasted into Shasza’s face, the wave of gaseous force sent the dragoness flying backwards through the air, tumbling into one of the cave’s rock walls and dropping to the ground again.

“Hooohh, jeez,” Azalon sighed with a wince. I could tell her bowels were still acting up, as she again looked strained, but she seemed more concerned now with Shasza. “S-sorry about that! Excuse me! Are you...um...are you okay? Oopf!” Somehow adorable even when in mortal danger, Azalon blushed again as a deep, brassy fart escaped her ample backside with a tuba-like honking sound, BBLLRROoOOooOoMMmPPpRrRRRppBBbBhhTt~! “Oh gosh...”

“Look, I’m just here to get Lyriana back,” she called over to Shasza, who was still reeling from her impact with the wall. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but we’ll just leave and get out of your hair...”

“No!” Shasza yelled back, finally getting back to her feet. “First you mock me, then you try to upstage me! Now you think I’ll just let you take my prize, my love, away?! Never! I’ll kill you before I let that happen!” She howled furiously, poison gas billowing out from her reptilian nostrils and mouth as she started twisting her claws into what looked like magical gestures and began an incantation while barreling ahead towards Azalon again.

Azalon’s eyes opened wide as she realized just how dangerous the situation had become, finally raising her sword in self-defense. The glowing blade flared brightly and burst into flames in her hands, and for a brief moment I was entranced, curious who would gain the upper hand in an actual mutual fight. Then, however, I recalled the scattered gaseous fumes of Shasza’s previous expulsions, and a sudden realization hit me. Time seemed to slow down, and I saw it happen: the residual green fog permeating the cavern began to ignite around Azalon’s burning blade. I had no time to cry out in warning, and simply threw up my hands in an instinctive arcane gesture, summoning a shield around myself.

FwrrooOOooOOSSHhhOOOOOMMM!

[simplyheretical]

The Firehair, Part 6

Want to read the whole thing start to finish? Here's the Google doc.

What you can expect from this story:

F/F 

First-person perspective

Fantasy setting

Unrealistically Large Breasts and Ass

Belly Stuffing and Inflation

Stomach Noises

Unrealistic/Hyper Gas (Burping and Farting)

Way too much attempt at actual serious plot between the fetishy parts

In this part: Hiccups/Hiccoughs

A sultry wink signalled the resumption of Azalon’s wild feasting, and I no longer had to be subtle about watching it — more than that, it was meant to be a show now. She chowed down vigorously on steaks and ham, bread and cheese, chicken, curry, peppers, rice, devouring everything with as much blissful gusto as before, but now she would turn towards me, even if slightly, to make sure I could see the impossible quantities of food she was consuming. She would bend over to emphasize her perfect, shapely rear, or lean and arch her back as she swallowed to thrust forward her huge, heavenly breasts.

Every few bites she would pause briefly, just long enough to roll out a still-hungry belch or four, and then carry on. “BwuUuUurrrpp~!” “OoouuhhrrraAaAaAAPP~!” “GweeEEEELLllcchh~!” “HhHhmmwwooOOooOOuUUuuURrrRRAapP~!”

It was awe-inspiring. Not only was her appetite unreal, not only could she belt out belches bigger and louder than any drunkard sailor...she was doing it specifically for me. That willingness, that intent to please and arouse brought a whole new dimension to my excitement. It was exactly what she wanted.

Pounds and pounds and pounds of food vanished into her mouth, the only sign any of it had been there at all being the dirtied serving dishes and Azalon’s resounding, hearty burps. After a while, she started to slow down. At first I thought perhaps she had gotten full after all, but that wasn’t it; she had just reached the point where she could have stopped eating and been content...if she wanted to.

She did not want to.

Instead she carried on at a leisurely, almost sensual pace, savoring every bite and taking pleasure in the feast. This was not a display of pure hunger any longer, but one of gluttony — and I, in my matching lust, was a captive audience to it. The last of the chickens met its end as she sucked the meat from its bones. The final dozen or so vegetables tumbled down her throat. She munched at the cheese wheels one by one until all of them, too, were gone. Every last deviled egg was popped into her mouth one by one and swallowed in a single gulp like tiny pieces of candy.

I started to notice then that her stomach, normally flat and toned with only a faint layer of soft fat, had started to round out and paunch forward. Every swallow, every mouthful of food was now adding to the bloating swell of her belly. She lazily scarfed down the last ten pounds or so of the honey-glazed ham, and that alone plumped her midsection out larger than a woman nine months pregnant with twins! I was reminded vividly of the feverish wet dream I’d had a few nights prior, and my breath quickened as she gave a weighty burp aimed straight towards me, “HeeeEeEUuUUUUUUUUuuurrrRRPP~!”

The gassy burst blew the scent of ale and honey and meat over me. It was incredibly hot (in both senses of the word) and I couldn’t help myself anymore. I pushed forward and pressed myself against Azalon’s huge, shirt-filling breasts — which seemed noticeably larger than before, I realized! — and her hefty, bloated gut, feeling it squash against my chest. If not for her tightly stretched tunic, her cleavage would have engulfed my whole head and then some, but instead I was free to reach up and pull her down into another impulsive kiss. Her belly noisily sloshed and churned as I gyrated my torso ever so slightly against her, letting my hands sink into it.

My groping must have pushed something loose, because she reached a hand up tenderly around my neck, brushing past my hair to the back of my head, held me there in our kiss, and let a rumbling growl of a belch bubble up from her throat directly into my mouth: GmMmrRRrrRRrRppFFff-RRrRRmMmGghhuUUurrmMmMPp~! My eyes went wide; it was like sucking up the sweltering heat of the hottest, windiest day of summer. My tongue was lit aflame again with the spicy burn of the peppers, with faint notes and aftertastes of...everything else she’d eaten, really. Instinctively I tried to pull away at first, startled by the sensation, but her grip on me was like iron as she held our lips together with one hand and the other slid down around my waist to cup my buttocks through my trousers.

She held onto me like that for the whole duration of her burp, all ten solid seconds of it. The force of the eructation vibrated my head and throat especially but also Azalon’s pillowy breasts and belly against me, and pushed into me such that I could feel my belly stretching and practically inflating with her gas! It was a little painful, but also incredibly, excitingly arousing.

She finally let me go, breaking her burp-kiss as the belch came to an end. “There,” she gave me a naughty, hopeful grin, squeezing my rear gently. “Was that good? Did you like that?”

As much as I wanted to answer, my head was still spinning a bit and my ears ringing. I gave a dizzy groan followed by a hiccup. My belly felt bloated, and as I lowered my face slightly from hers, another hiccup shook me and forced out a short, but loud burp of my own straight into her bust, “Hic-BwoAARp~!” I blinked, opening my mouth to speak but only managing a second, airy eructation, high-pitched and soft but several seconds long. “UuuEeeeh-hic!-eeEHhhpp~! Brehpp~! Hic!” I bashfully covered my mouth, reflexive manners kicking in as I uttered a soft, apologetic “Excu-hic!-use me...” but as I looked up to Azalon she was gazing back down at me with a starry-eyed face of marvel.

“Wow,” she breathed softly, letting me go. “Are you burping back my own gas at me? That’s so weird...kind of cool, even!”

I blushed, realizing she was right. I wasn’t typically very much of a gassy person at all, and those burps were some of the biggest I’d ever let out (not that I kept track) — even if, by comparison to Azalon’s, they were miniscule! “I...I think I - hic-eeaarrpp~! - oofh, I think I am! Oh my go-hic!-goodness, that’s incredible,” I gasped, hiccuped, and bit my lip; this just kept getting better.

Seeming to sense my approval, Azalon’s lewd smile broadened as she stepped back from me. “Well I hope you’re up for more,” she teased huskily, sashaying over to the one remaining dish: the enormous pot of stew, still full to the brim. Her swollen stomach gurgled and glorped in anticipation as she firmly rubbed a hand over it. “Because I’m not done yet!”

“I am!” I answered quickly with another delayed hiccup. My legs quivered in anticipation as I turned away with a grin. “I’ll grab a bowl—” “Oh, no need,” Azalon chuckled with amusement as she stirred the bubbling pot. “I don’t need one.” Her dismissal of the idea of a bowl, as if it were a cute, quaint notion, just cemented her wonderful gluttony. When I turned back towards her I expected her to be shoveling stew into her mouth with the hefty wooden spoon she’d been stirring with. I should have learned by then to throw away expectations, because as usual she was defying them gloriously!

No, instead Azalon was kneeling down and gripping the sides of the massive pot, not seeming to notice or care how hot the iron was. She flexed her toned arms, and with incredible strength she hoisted it up in her hands with only the barest effort; the it must have weighed hundreds of pounds between the heavy cast iron and the many tens of gallons of stew inside, but it seemed nothing would get in the way of Azalon stuffing her face! Licking her lips greedily, she tilted the cauldron towards her and opened wide, placing her mouth right under the pouring spout at its edge!

Stew poured and cascaded into her mouth and down her throat in a constant, bubbling, steaming stream. From the moment the first drops of broth touched her tongue, I could see her expression melt into gastronomic ecstasy. I almost wished she would make a piggish mess of herself just for the spectacle, but no — Azalon wasn’t going to let a single chunk of meat or potatoes or carrots or celery escape her, not even a speck of broth if she could help it! It was almost like she had a sixth sense about it; if any morsel so much as fell off course, her long, broad tongue would shift over, catch it, and send it sliding down her gullet in one smooth motion. All of it was going to go straight into her hungry, gurgling belly...

...that same belly that was bloating and swelling outwards with every heaping gulp she took, I saw with a gasp! Her gut had already filled up tremendously, far beyond any pregnant tummy. Azalon’s mouth was open immensely wide, every mouthful like a full serving to a normal person, and every throat-stretching swallow added a visible surge to its girth! Gulp-gwoomp, gulp-Gwoomp, gulp-GWOOMP...!

The huge, heavy pot squashed weightily into her swelling stomach and against her full, plump melons as well, but she didn’t care. She just kept gulping down stew, and tilting the pot up and up and up to keep it flowing steadily down her throat! This carried on for what seemed like ages and yet was over in just under two minutes. I tried at one point to help her hold the pot up, at least to feel as if I was participating, but it was far too hot for me, nearly burning my fingers.

Finally, after the last remnants of the stew disappeared into the bottomless pit of Azalon’s stomach, she licked her lips again and set the enormous pot aside like it were nothing, punctuating her feast with a satisfied sigh. “Aaahhhh...” She straightened her legs out into a sitting position, leaned back, and propped herself up with her arms, letting her massively bloated belly rest in and overwhelm her lap with a gravid, cumbersome sloOorshing noise. That gut, packed full of our combined body weights in food, was roundly distended out to a globular, near-spherical shape larger than the stew pot itself, reaching past her knees on her extended legs. The rest of her was just as shapely, toned, and perfect as ever, making her tremendous stomach stand out even more.

She shifted her weight to one side with another gastric SLOSH in order to bring one hand forward and happily pat and rub at her humongous belly. Even that slight touch pushed something loose with a wet, rumbling gurgle as an equally wet, rumbling belch burst out of her mouth with a geyser of steam, UuUUuUUUUuUUGggHhhHLLLlllUuUUuuUrrRRBBBbbBPpP~!

“Hooah-huuUooOOOoOORRRGGHHHPP~!” Azalon sighed and belched again with a contented glow about her face. “How...bruUuOoOoOoGGGHh~!...about thaAaAAABBrRRUuUUUUUURRRRPP~! — that...?” She grinned, her own overflowing burps interrupting her as she made no effort to resist them, seeming to know exactly how to push my newfound buttons even so shortly after learning about them. A brief wave of her hand summoned me instantly to her side, and then her hand took mine and pressed it to her stomach. I took the cue quickly, pushing in against her enormous gut and kneading at it in a massage. It was soft and pliant and cushiony, but with a weight and internal pressure to it; not quite like fat, but instead like pushing into a water balloon that still had plenty of give and space, much more room to expand. My efforts prompted a soft moan from the angelic redhead, a huff that quickly transformed into another powerful burp which sent rippling quakes across her stomach. GwOooOOOooOHHhhRRrRRAAAAAAAAAAaAaaaAaAAaAPppPFfFUuUhh~!

The air shimmered with a heat haze again, making her oven-hot belches strangely sort of visible in a way in combination with the steam. The room itself seemed to be getting warmer, and I was starting to sweat. Azalon caught my eye with a flash of her captivating smile, and she finally continued her query. “Am-mUuUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRPPhHhH~! I s-stUuUUuuUUUuUUUUUUUFFFFffFFEEEEEEDDD~ enooOoOouuUUUGGhhHHhRrrrPpp~...?” She asked, allowing her words to shift straight into thunderous, long burps as I carried on coaxing them out with my hands. They rumbled and growled, roared and buzzed, vibrating my body just by being in contact with her. “Am I-IiUuUURrrRRRRghhpp~...am I gGggAaAaAAAAASSSSSSYYyyyyYYyyYYyGgggGhghhhHRRrrRRRRrRRBbBpPPpHHhh~ enough...? OoOhhhrrrpp~...”

There was something absolutely joyously erotic to me about her bellowing out the word ‘gassy’ as a belch strong enough to rattle the tables and dishware around us for for nearly eight seconds straight. That burp in particular seemed to taper off midway and then rejuvenate itself, as if my servile rubbing of her belly pumped more gas into it just as it was starting to falter.

“Yes!” I gasped in reply, leaning my body against her stomach and shuddering as it shook with another enormous eructation. “Just...keep going! Please!”

She gave a belching laugh at that; I didn’t need to tell her to keep going, even I knew that. At that point, I don’t think she could have stopped if she wanted to...

And again: she did not want to.

Nearly twenty minutes later I was still lying against Azalon’s bloated orb of a stomach, basking in the comfortable heat radiating from the smoothly distended flesh. My head resting on her belly, I could hear every digestive growl and grumble, all the blorps and glorps and sloshes of everything stretching out that tummy to such huge size. Moreover, I could hear (and feel!) every ominous gaseous movement and bubble preceding her tremendous eructations. She didn’t seem to mind, content with reveling in her own afterglow from the feast she’d eaten while I rubbed and pawed at her belly. It was just the destressor I needed.

“So...” I began, peering over the horizon of Azalon’s swollen mountain of gluttony and the two tunic-straining, bosomy peaks atop it. “Are you finally full?” I smiled. Before giving her a chance to answer I pulled another daring move, spreading my arms wide and squeezing them around as much of her gassy gut as I could reach. This produced another weighty slooOOorrsh from within her belly, followed quickly by a plaintive bloOrp!

I felt her bowels stirring with vibrating force, suggesting I must have knocked loose a big one. Azalon’s face screwed up slightly, her cheeks puffing up for a moment as her back arched involuntarily.

BBBWWWWOOoOOOooOOoOAAaAAAAaaAAaAAaAAAGGgGGHHHUUuuuUUUuUuUuUuUuuUuuUUUUuuUrrRRrrRRrRrrrRLlLlLllLLLllllbbBBBBuuUUrrAAaAAAAPppPPP~!!!

What came out of her was easily the largest, longest, and likely the most powerful belch I’d heard from her yet, which was saying something! Not only her tremendous belly and breasts but her whole body shook (and mine by extension) along with the tables and plates around us and even the stew pot. The steamy, hazy blast bellowed loudly from her throat on and on and on, deep and low and heavy at first before graduating to a mid-range in pitch. Then came a wet, ferocious gurgling quality, followed by a strong, lengthy, almost vibrato note before at last it tumbled and rolled into a beefy, airy rumble.

All told, it must have been at least twenty seconds, though I’d estimate perhaps even thirty! It seemed to last forever, and yet once it was over I found myself disappointed it hadn’t kept going. Gods, what a pervert I was becoming!

“Phew! Hooh, that was a good one,” Azalon commented almost to herself after catching her breath. Then, with her usual chipper, upbeat smile, she declared simply, “Nope!”

“‘Nope?’” I echoed her blankly, looking up at her with some confusion. In the midst of her colossal burp, I had actually forgotten my own question. “Erm, ‘nope’ what?”

“Nope I’m not f-uUuOoOoOOoOLLGGhh~! — full, silly!” she gave a jolly chuckle that shook her humongous chest in her outmatched shirt distractingly. “I haven’t — BrrrrUuuuUUURRRrrrpPp~! — had a meal like that in a long time, but it’ll take a lot more than that to get me full!” She paused briefly, just long enough (seven seconds) to let out one more hefty burp that started with her mouth closed. “GMMmRrrRrreeEeEeeEEEELLLCH~!...I think.”

My face turned to bewilderment at that final note. I raised an eyebrow, lifting myself upward slightly and leaning back from Azalon’s gut. “You think?”

“Yeah, I mean...” she shifted slightly to give a shrug, one hand resting lazily on her stomach. A soft wince twinged on her face and her hand tensed slightly just before a boisterous BBBrRRrUuuUUuuuUUUUmmMMPPpHhBbBBbTTt~! brassily bubbled out of her behind, vibrating her body and mine as she farted. “To be honest I can’t remember ever having been full. At least not full-full, you know? Like how people say ‘oh, I’m so full I couldn’t eat another bite!’ I’ve never felt that way. So I don’t know how much it would take to get me to that point.”

“You mean you can’t get full?” I questioned her in slight disbelief — slight, because this was Azalon after all.

The fiery-haired woman frowned, uncertain. “Well no, I wouldn’t say that, just...well...I mean maybe? Anything’s possible I guess, but I’ve got to get full eventually, right?”

I puzzled over this information in my head, possibilities and scenarios whizzing around at the notion of Azalon’s stomach being literally bottomless. Then something occurred to me. “What’s the most you’ve eaten in one sitting, then?”

She hummed at that, stroking her belly thoughtfully. “BLuUuUrRRpp~! Hmm...I’d say maybe...twice this much?” A sheepish grin spread on her face as her hand shifted to the back of her head. “Heheh, I kind of got in trouble with the Margrave of Stauburg for that”

I blushed, looking down at her massive stomach once more. It was already bloated to the size of a particularly stout dwarf, so I couldn’t help but imagine how huge she might have been after twice as much food! It was a story I’d definitely have to ask her about some time. “Have you ever...wanted to try?” I asked her. “Getting full, I mean?”

“Well s-shUuUuRrrRpp~! — sure,” Azalon eructed in response with a giggle, though she looked a bit resigned. “But getting together that much food ready to eat in one place at one time just might never happen. I mean this meal tonight took us hours to cook!”

“That’s true,” I conceded, biting my lip slightly as I shimmied and scooted myself closer towards her, around the curve of her belly to her torso itself. “But...there are certain spells and incantations that allow one to conjure food and drink, potentially in large quantities,” I pointed out huskily, sliding a hand up her arm and another across her chest. “I happen to have some of them in my own spellbook, so if you like...I could try and extrapolate how to enhance them...”

I felt her shudder slightly at my touch. She smiled at me, out of kinky appreciation rather than jolly cheer now. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she told me, blushing. “Gods...as if you weren’t already good enough, a beautiful woman with such adorable noble manners...now you’re a beautiful woman with adorable noble manners who also likes feeding me as much as I like eating!” “Azalea may have mentioned a few of your weaknesses,” I granted her with a sly wink, pulling her closer into an embrace and pressing my lips to her neck, brushing aside her long mane of fiery red hair.

“Oh, that rat, Zale!” Azalon jokingly growled, leaning her head to one side. “Well, milady Lyriana...you have me where you wanted me, stuffed and g-gAaahHUuuUUrrRrPp~!-gassy...how far do you want to take this?”

I hesitated slightly, the question hitting me a little harder than expected. My body was urging me to take it all the way, but at the same time my mind raced with dozens of reasons not to: I’d basically just met her, it was only our first ‘date’ so to speak, I had no experience...

Then again, I was already quite deep and Azalon seemed willing to go deeper.

A nervous smile crossed my face as I pulled back a bit, and I put my hands on her shoulders. “Okay, um...let’s start with this,” I suggested, grasping at her cloak clasped around her neck that she was still wearing. “I haven’t once seen you without it, and I’d very much like to-”

“U-umm, I don’t know,” Azalon interjected with a heavy, nervous blush, suddenly seeming quite hesitant. She grasped at the clasp of her cloak protectively, then deftly shifted directions and took me by the wrist, pulling me into another belly-squashing embrace as she lifted me partly off the floor. “We’ve already done so much foreplay,” she cooed sensually, giving a mighty, meaty, steamy belch right into my face as my body pressed down on her stomach. “BuuUUUUuUUHhHHhPpP~! Oofh...so how about we get right to business?”

Dazed by the powerful burp and hopelessly turned on, I just blushed and gladly followed her lead, my previous train of thought totally forgotten. Before I knew it my trousers were gone, tossed aside to some corner as I sat on the huge cushions of her breasts with my hands clinging to the back of her head and she put her long, skilled, amazing tongue to work between my legs. She let out more than a few blasting belches while she was at it, which was an unusual feeling to say the least, but that hour or so went by in a blur of orgasmic ecstasy.

Eventually I collapsed to the floor from exhaustion, on the verge of passing out. Dimly, I saw the huge shape of Azalon pushing herself to her feet and walking out of the room. She said something to me, though I wasn’t sure what. There was a deep, quaking blast of hot air that I took to be another roaring fart. I think she waved.

When I finally came to again I was still quite tired. My cheeks flushed as I realized I’d been lying on the kitchen floor with no pants, soaked in sweat particularly between my legs with the addition of saliva and other, more scandalous fluids. I stood up with a stagger and took up my trousers from the corner and wandered outside with a lantern, aiming to clean myself off with the well water from the courtyard.

It was very dark out by then, possibly past midnight. Even after washing and then putting back on my trousers (a quick, simple spell helped clean my clothes along with myself), I sat out there by the well for several minutes, staring up at the stars above, reflecting on the night.

It certainly wasn’t the sort of thing I would have expected to happen, I mused with a smile. “Lady Lyriana Rochaire-Castor,” I muttered softly to myself. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

I found myself smiling, and then laughing, until I began to notice a foul stench starting to cling in my nostrils. Then, in the lantern’s light, I saw what looked like a thick cloud of dark greenish fog creeping in from the darkness, rolling in towards me from all sides and starting to close me in. The odor grew worse, like rotting meat, and even as I tried to stand and flee for the door I found myself choking on the stinking cloud, unable to see where I was going even with the light at my side.

Then I heard a voice: feminine, sultry and smug but unfamiliar. “What indeed...?”

That was all I could make out before the offensive miasma of stench finally overpowered my senses and I again fell unconscious.

[simplyheretical]

The Firehair, Part 5

Want to read the whole thing start to finish? Here's the Google doc.

What you can expect from this story:

F/F 

First-person perspective

Fantasy setting

Unrealistically Large Breasts and Ass

Belly Stuffing and Inflation

Stomach Noises

Unrealistic/Hyper Gas (Burping and Farting)

Way too much attempt at actual serious plot between the fetishy parts

I had plenty of chances to tell Azalon about how I felt that night, about her or about the idea of trying ‘us,’ but I never summoned the courage nor the will. Instead as we ate a light dinner together (by her standards), I settled for simple chatting and story-swapping, just eating and drinking and enjoying each other’s company for at least another couple of hours while I told myself I needed more time to think about it. Truth be told, I enjoyed the conversation perhaps more than her gassy episodes, in a different way.

Being the early bird she was, she took her leave before long to go home and sleep, and I took to helping Azalea clean up the many dishes. Sure enough, no reply had come in the time since Azalon and I went out to the theater, which bothered me less than it should have. Azalea seemed more concerned than I was, but I took little note of it.

“So how was your date?” she asked me at one point. “Did the play go well?” I shrugged lightly and smiled as I scrubbed at a plate. “It went fine,” I told her, “But honestly the play was more of a side-attraction for me...” Realizing that could sound rather perverted, especially if Azalea had figured out my newfound secret kink, I switched subjects. “Though I’ve just been wondering...she seems so open and friendly, but is there anything about Azalon she doesn’t show?”

Azalea chuckled softly with her usual cryptic way that suggested she knew something, though what about I couldn’t quite guess. “Not much...but as carefree as she is, she’s fairly self-conscious. No real self esteem issues, but she...cloaks herself in ignorance, I suppose I could say.” I didn’t really know what she meant, and I knew asking wouldn’t get me anywhere.

Later, I lay awake on my bed upstairs, too much on my mind to sleep. The siege at home, the wait for a reply, what to do about my feelings for Azalon, wondering if they were real or just a fanciful lusting crush.... Sleep evaded me for quite a while, and I ended up passing the time by practicing my spells.

I must have finally fallen asleep doing just that, because I woke up with my face partially wedged into the pages of my spellbook. It was still dark out, and my candle was burning low. The fog of sleep was slow to leave me; I knew I’d heard some sort of noise, but I couldn’t quite tell what it was or where it had come from. Then I heard it again: the sound of muffled breathing, very close to my bed.

My heart suddenly racing at the proximity of the sound, I pushed myself up from my book and looked to find a dark-robed figure standing over me, a gloved hand reaching out towards me. Instinctively I whirled around and began to scream, but the figure’s hand lunged forward and clamped over my mouth, muffling my cry. The stranger’s other hand grabbed my arm, trying to hold me down as I flailed and kicked. I just managed to push the attacker away in my struggle, and I dove from my bed for my dagger on the nearby table, crying out for help.

I couldn’t reach it in time, and again I was grabbed on the floor. I felt the terrifyingly strong hands close around my neck from behind, fingers squeezing my throat shut and cutting off my airway as the man (I could tell by the masculine tone to his minimal, grunting vocalizations) tried to choke me into unconsciousness. “Come now,” he said with a sinister, growling voice and an almost toying tone. “Go back to sleep...!”

For several agonizing seconds I scratched and pulled at his hands with my own, unable to breathe or speak. I could feel my heartbeat pounding desperately, my vision pulsing as the blood pumped harder. I tried the first thing I could think of, the only spell that came to mind in that moment which didn’t require any words to cast. I made the motion with my arms as best I could, and in a blast of force and light the man was thrown backwards off of me, unharmed but no longer harming me at least. Not even giving myself time to gasp for breath, I pushed myself to my feet and grabbed my dagger. He was already back on his feet.

I couldn’t see his face, as it was obscured by both a dark, heavy hood and some sort of black face mask, but I could hear him breathing still. I was shaking as I pointed my dagger towards him, and when I tried calling out again my voice was too hoarse. I swiped at him once, and then turned to the door and fled. I ran out into the hall for the stairs, but to my horror there stood another dark robed man in the same outfit, carrying a sap in his hand as he lunged for me.

With one in front and one behind, I had no time to stop; I choked out a magical word of power and shut my eyes as my body passed right through the man at the stairs, intangible just long enough to make it through him. I stumbled down onto the stairs and just barely kept myself stable enough not to go tumbling down as I carried on running as fast as I could, not stopping to even look behind me as I staggered to the inn doors and burst out into the streets, coughing and hoarsely wheezing for help.

I heard the men throw the doors open behind me, and this time made the mistake of looking back. My bare foot smacked into a grassy bump in the path and I was sent slamming to the ground once more with a groan. I rolled onto my back and held my dagger out just as one of them fell upon me; I had used up the only escape tricks I had already.

Immediately we were struggling again. I stabbed at him once, twice, and got in a deep cut through his robes before the second man came and pinned my arm, both working in tandem to incapacitate me. Frightful tears welled in my eyes as the dagger fell from my grasp and I once again had a hand over my mouth, and one of them drew out a length of rope to tie my wrists...

“Lyriana!” I heard a familiar voice shout just before a bright, hot light filled the street. FWOOOSH! The next thing I knew, there was a rush of heat and flames right above me that engulfed my attackers, and in the next instant they were off of me, thrown back. I propped myself up on my elbows and looked, to see an orb of fire chasing after the two men and rolling along the ground. Their robes were aflame already, and their howls of pain must have awakened several people. The orb moved with remarkable speed, herding the men around with its movements. I expected to see Azalon when I turned around, but instead when I looked back it was her sister Azalea controlling the flame, waving her hand and flicking her wrist with subtle movements of her fingers like the conductor of an orchestra!

Azalea’s ember-colored eyes were glowing like discs of fire, and her hair shone brightly with the same light, even subtly floating behind her like tongues of flame. She made a more dramatic motion, twisted her arms in a rapid magical seal and clapped her hands, her fingers knitting together, and I turned to see the burning men suddenly lifted from the ground as hard, woody roots and branches sprang from the soil and coiled around them in entangling, binding knots. “Lyriana, get behind me!” she cried, never taking her eyes off the men.

I was in no hurry to disobey my rescuer, especially not when she so clearly had such unexpected power on her side! I rolled over onto my stomach and scrambled towards Azalea, panting heavily as I stumbled to my feet. I looked to the men she had entrapped maybe a few short yards away once I got behind her, and the bindings only seemed to tighten if anything, though the flames of their robes were extinguishing. They were struggling, but to no effect against the thick branches entangling them.

I stared at them for a moment in still-terrified anguish, not wanting to look but being unable not to. I finally got my sore throat muscles to move and called out with a hoarse rasp, desperately demanding, “Who are you?!”

There was no reply for at least a few seconds, when suddenly one of them seemed to simply vanish, melting away into black vapor. The roots where he had been tightened together into one gnarled bundle and then crumbled away. The other man just seemed to stare me down at first, and I realized he had pulled something from his pocket, a stone of some sort. “We will find you, Daughter of Rochaire,” he said ominously before crushing the stone in his fist like chalk, and then he too evaporated like black mist.

I stood in shock for a moment, staring at the crumbled roots and smelling the sooty burning smell still hanging in the air, not realizing at first that Azalea had turned to face me. Her hair and eyes had ceased their intense glowing, returned to their normal but still vibrant shade. “Are you alright?”

My best answer at first was a wheezed mumble, and she saw the bruises that had begun to form on my throat. After some simple healing magic from myself and her alike, I was able to speak clearly again and told her everything that had happened.

“I was afraid this might happen,” Azalea sighed apologetically. “Your reply should have come today, or even yesterday, and then I started detecting strangers lurking around in the woods outside town...”

Azalea told me then that she wasn’t just a barmaid or a cook, but also a druid in secret. She acted as a guardian of Springhaven and the lands surrounding it. She had heard my cries for help and come running, but not before waking up Azalon as well, who had gone to search the town and outer walls for any additional intruders or would-be kidnappers.

“Listen,” she said to me, gently taking me by the shoulders. “They know where you are now, and clearly they want to come after you. Whoever they are, they’ve also got some kind of magic on their side, and we can’t rely on Azalon and myself to keep you safe here. You can’t stay.” She told me to go up to my room and pack my things to leave as quickly as I could, and though I wanted to protest I really couldn’t see any argument against her words. So I did. It took me twenty minutes to gather everything I had in my inn room into my bags and make it back downstairs, where I then found Azalon waiting for me along with her sister, and in full armor no less. “Are you ready to go, Lyriana?” she asked gently. Then, with a firm nod and a look of protective determination, she announced, “I”m coming with you.”

To keep us traveling light, we left the wagon and the horses that pulled it in the stable, taking only what we and our own mounts could carry. Azalea stayed behind, having duties she could not leave behind but vowing she would use her druidic magic to check in on us. Within ten minutes we had gone through the gates, stealing away into the night together.

Yet, even with all this support and so much protection from both the Deguellios sisters...I felt weak. I felt vulnerable.

For hours we rode through the woods, avoiding the road and barely speaking. With no light to see by, it was all I could do to stay as close behind Azalon as I could, following the soft beats and crunches of her horse’s hooves in the grass and underbrush. She didn’t seem to have any issues navigating the almost pitch-black darkness. At points she had to come back and correct my course, sometimes even taking my steed’s reins for me and manually guiding me along. On and on through the trees we followed the coast with no true destination until at last we stopped to get what sleep we could before dawn.

In the morning we discussed our plans. We couldn’t just wander around; we needed somewhere to go. Brynweald wasn’t safe, nor was Harronfell, but would anywhere truly be? I pondered heading straight to Harronfell and gambling on the notion that they might not look there, but Azalon swiftly talked me out of that foolishness. Then she told me about her own idea.

There was an old fortress a few days away from Springhaven, abandoned and nestled in the woods, where Azalon said I could be safe until the situation changed...or more accurately, where I could hide. I certainly wasn’t about to argue; if Azalon thought it was safe, I trusted her.

The days of travel to the fortress were uneventful; with the danger hanging over me, I didn’t feel much like talking. What’s more, we hadn’t brought much food with us in the hurry to leave, and so our meals were modest and supplemented with whatever we could hunt or forage along the way. This meant Azalon was, to my disappointment, unusually gasless. Each day that passed with such mutual silence left me more and more frustrated, unable to find an outlet for my stress, wanting to confess how I felt but never having a good opportunity. Instead I would lie awake at night tortured by the taunting sound of Azalon’s furiously growling belly.

Finally, we arrived at the fortress in the late afternoon. It was relatively small, consisting of a single overgrown keep with a watchtower. When Azalon took me inside, however, I was surprised to find it was in better shape than I expected. Apparently, Azalon had taken it upon herself recently to make some repairs about the place in preparation to reclaim it from the wilderness, with some help from Azalea.

She seemed to be doing quite the job of it, too; this, I surmised, was why she had been out away from town in the first place to find and rescue me, and why she hadn’t been expected back so soon. There was still quite a bit of work to be done and a rather musty smell, but it looked well on its way to being a hospitable structure again. Most rooms were still in need of repairs or cleaning, but a few were well within usable condition.

It was the kitchen that I was least surprised to see had been fixed up, and that Azalon was definitely the most eager to visit. Having taken a much-needed bath to wash myself of the grime of the woods, I came down from the bedroom she had directed me to, and found her feverishly filling a huge iron pot in the center of the room with water from the well outside. There was already a strong fire crackling away underneath, and the tables around her were strewn with food of all sorts, unprepared but seemingly gathered to be put into what I could only assume was planned to be a stew. There were potatoes, carrots, onions, mushrooms, what appeared to be racks of venison, multiple whole chickens...it certainly looked like a lot to me, and moreover, we hadn’t brought any of it with us.

“Azalon, where did you get all this?” I asked her as I stepped inside, watching her tip a bucket of water into the cauldron.

The amazonian woman looked up at me with a look of desperate anticipation behind her smile, and her stomach grumbled noisomely as she answered, “From the pantry! I’ve been keeping it stocked so I can stay out here as long as I need to to work on the fort, and Zale was nice enough to enchant the room with something to keep everything fresh!”

I looked past her to the open doorway leading into what must have been the pantry she was talking about. Even from where I stood, I could tell that room was packed absolutely full; I could see mountains of food, vegetables of all sorts spilling out of sacks piled from floor to ceiling. Blinking in surprise, I stepped a bit closer and to the side and saw whole tables covered in meat that was butchered and ready to cook. The enchantment she spoke of must have been quite good to preserve so much food; if anything, I was starting to wonder if this wasn’t so much a restoration project as it was a binge-eating hideout of some kind. “Oh my...”

It took my mind only seconds to run away with that notion. I badly needed a distraction from my worries, and this was it. Setting my jaw and trying not to blush, I turned back to Azalon and blurted, “Let me help!”

“Oh, with the cooking?” she asked distractedly, poking at the fire under the pot and lifting the empty bucket to go and fill it from the well again. I nodded eagerly. “Yes! I-I mean, after everything you’ve done for me, and going for so long without a good meal, I think...you shouldn’t have to do so much work yourself, right? So we can cook together! Just let me know what you want me to do!” “Sounds great!” Azalon agreed readily, moving to the door. “Then can you get to work peeling the potatoes and cutting up the carrots and onions while I get the pot filled? Oh, and set up the spit outside, and get the stoves lit!”

I smiled to her as she left, then set about the tasks given to me. Cooking wasn’t something I had ever really done myself much — I’d always had servants for that — but surely I could at least lend a hand and make things go more smoothly...and ensure that complaining stomach of Azalon’s got nice and full, hopefully!

Helping Azalon make a meal proved to be as enjoyable as it was exhausting. The stew pot alone was probably big enough to drown a pair of tubby halflings in, so the amount of ingredients I had to prepare for that alone were enough to get me sweating. What I had forgotten to account for was that I had not yet seen just how much food it would take to truly satisfy Azalon. The stew was only one of the many dishes we were preparing that night; before long, I was running back and forth trying to balance at least half a dozen different types of food all cooking at once, and all in quantities that could have kept me more than sated for days at a time! Azalon did most of the heavy lifting and strenuous work along with guiding me and still managed to handle at least as many dishes as I was working on without even stopping to catch her breath. There wasn’t enough space on the stoves or the spit or in the ovens for everything we were cooking, so some things had to take turns.

I was graced by at least a few small, airy belches every time Azalon checked the food for taste. To tell the truth, just the tasting alone amounted to enough food to serve as any normal person’s full meal. Still, the resulting burps were nothing by her standards: little popping bursts of gas signifying a significant amount of space left to fill. I savored them nonetheless, taking them as promises of true, bellowing eructations to come.

Admittedly, a fair portion of this overload was my own fault. In my eagerness to truly stuff Azalon full for once, I made a few suggestions based on what was present in the pantry...and Azalon agreed to each one.

By the end of our nearly four-hour cooking spree I was drenched in sweat and gasping for breath, but the kitchen was swirling with a cloud of competing delicious aromas and every surface was overflowing with plates and pots and platters of scrumptious food, only some of which was overcooked or slightly burned (my fault). The spread was staggering, enough to serve as a banquet for more than fifty people if I had to guess: several pounds of curry and rice, a towering pile of steaks, a huge honey-glazed ham, several whole-roasted chickens and racks of venison and lamb, a plate packed with stuffed peppers, a mound of sautéed and roasted vegetables and spicy peppers with yet more rice, two large loaves of fresh bread, two dozen deviled eggs, full wheels of multiple types of cheese, and of course the massive, bubbling pot of stew.

I don’t know that we could have fit all of the food on the mess hall tables if we tried, but that quickly became a moot point. Azalon was far too hungry to wait that long, and her stomach was roaring to prove it.

Azalon practically dove face-first into the buffet we had put together, digging in with a desperate hunger and a belly roaring like an angry beast. She didn’t bother to pull up a chair or load up a plate, she just grabbed the nearest utensils — not even dining cutlery, but the larger kitchenware! — and devoured whatever was closest straight from its serving dish or right out of the pan, often without so much as chewing. Periodically, she would step over to a different counter or table and eat from there instead, presumably to maintain variety or perhaps simply to make sure she was consuming everything evenly. Mounds of curried rice tumbled into her mouth and slid across her taste buds straight down her throat, followed by bunches of roasted vegetables, large hunks of cheese and bread, then two whole steaks each as big as my face; one of them she ravaged in a few large, ravenous bites, and the other she just took in her hands and folded up, then opened her mouth remarkably wide, and swallowed in its entirety. I watched it go down in the form of a significant bulge stretching out her throat as it slid through...and I could have sworn I heard an audible gloonk~! when it hit her stomach.

Watching her tear through everything like a voracious tornado was absolutely mesmerizing, to the point I nearly forgot to get any food for myself. When I finally did serve myself, I had to hurry and dash my way through to grab from wherever she wasn’t eating at the moment. I intended to treat this spread like any multiple-course meal back home. I would eat some of everything, but in very small servings of each. I could never hope to match Azalon’s appetite. I pulled up a chair and held my plate in front of me, nibbling away while I watched Azalon eat and eat and eat...

She carried on frantically scarfing and gulping down every morsel she could for what seemed like nearly half an hour, with every mouthful and throat-stretching swallow only seeming to give her more energy so she could attack the next dish of her choice with yet more gusto. More than fifteen whole pounds of food must have vanished down her gullet in that time, including one whole roast chicken and a sizable portion of the glazed ham, and yet she showed no sign of stopping, or having overeaten, or even of being full.

The only break she took was to wash everything thus far down with half the contents of a small five-gallon cask of dwarven stout, one of a handful that she had hauled up from the fort’s cellar. She gulped away straight from a hole in the lid, letting it pour into her open mouth and splash across her tongue, while stray flecks and droplets here and there spilled from her lips, some landing on or between her poorly-contained breasts as they heaved in that old, ill-fitting shirt of hers. Gluk, gluk, gluk, gluk, gluk...

BbwwuuUUHUUUuuUrRRrrrRRAaaAAAAAAAAAAaRRRrPp~!

I gasped; there it was, the first true belch of the night! A loud, boisterous eructation that started low and smooth before rolling and rumbling heavier and deeper until it came to an end. Carried with it was the strong smell of ale coupled with notes of the curry and vegetables. I would guess it lasted around four seconds at most.

Azalon gave a relieved sigh as she set down the cask of stout again and reached up to idly brush up with her finger the drops of spilled ale and grease and sauces that freckled her wobbling cleavage, then popped that finger into her mouth and licked her lips. “Aahhh, gods, that’s good,” she declared happily, sauntering eagerly back over to the food with a rippling after-burp. “HuOorp-OoAaarg-ggrruurrRp~! I’ve just been SO freaking hungry...” “Hahah!” I gave a small, polite laugh even as I blushed. This was like an erotic dream for me, and it was getting harder and harder to contain myself, to hide my fetishistic enthusiasm for everything about this goddess of a woman. “Good thing there’s plenty more...”

And there was definitely plenty more — as much as she had eaten, it only amounted to perhaps a quarter of what we had prepared together. I wondered for a moment how much more she could manage. But as she started eating again, with less urgency perhaps but just as much hungry energy and speed, I knew...by the end of the night, all of that food would be in her belly. That thought alone got me more excited than ever.

The floodgates were open now, and every so often her feasting would be interrupted by her uproarious burping. More and more and more food vanished between her lips: a leg of lamb (UuuoOOoooOORRrpp~!), a big hunk of buttered bread, half a wheel of cheese, more ale to wash the cheese down (GWUUUuuurrrpp~!), six deviled eggs, a full rack of venison, four stuffed peppers, a mound of rice as big as her head, two whole chickens and three more steaks (BaaAAAAAaAaAarRrRrrrrrrrruUUUUUPPP~!)...

Eventually I stopped paying attention to precisely what she was eating and more to how she was eating it, how much of it, the way her gassy eruptions sent rippling jiggles across her cleavage, how her enormous heart-shaped bottom swayed and wiggled happily whenever she bent over to scoop up another heap of food, and just how unbearably sexy she was to me through every moment. I didn’t know how it was even possible, and I didn’t entirely care. All I knew was that none of the usual rules seemed to apply to her; she could eat as much as she wanted, burp as loud as she felt like, and none of it mattered. She defied limitation like she was untouchable, and I loved every second of it.

Another half hour must have passed, putting us well into the night hours by the time she had demolished another quarter of our assembled buffet. The food had started to grow cold, and even though Azalon didn’t seem to care much I took it upon myself to reheat everything I could. “Here, let me warm things up for you,” I said as I fired up the stoves again with small flames to keep from burning things, aiming to just keep everything nice and hot.

“Re-eeAaaAUuuUUURRRGGHH~! Oofh, ‘scuse me! - really?” she asked with some surprise even as she was taking her well-used knife to another rack of venison. With a quick, practiced push and slice, she separated some of the ribs and picked them up to strip the meat off the bones. “Hahah, you don’t have to do that! OMmmffh - glp - BurrAaAPP~! Ahh, I can heat everything up again if it gets too cold.”

“You’ve been really enjoying yourself, though,” I countered as I loaded some of the steaks into pans again. “It seems to me like the last thing you need is to have to stop to keep your meal hot. It’s no trouble, really!”

When I looked back to her, the ribs she had been working at were completely bare, and she’d already started on the next set. “BweeEEEEEEEeelch~! Well thanks, Lyriana, that’s really sweet of you,” she said with that adorable, infectiously charming smile on her lightly food-stained lips.

“I owe you at least that much,” I insisted as I smiled back, dumping some of the remaining roasted vegetables and spicy peppers into another pan to warm that up as well. I wiped some of the sweat from my brow and hurried back and forth tending to everything to keep it warm without burning it. As one thing started steaming again I would switch it out, having to use the ovens for the larger items like the racks of lamb or the chickens. This rhythm carried on for some time, with Azalon gobbling down whatever I wasn’t actively heating up again and belching happily.

I turned around to present her with a hot, steaming plate of rice and spicy peppers some minutes later to find that she seemed to have stopped. She was looking at me with a strange pensiveness, as if something was bothering her. My face fell slightly, and I stepped forward. “Is something wrong, Azalon?” I asked her cautiously. “Aren’t you hungry?” She gave a soft smile, as sweet as ever but with a rather somber look. “I am, yeah,” she affirmed with a gentle nod and a faint blush, one hand slipping up to lightly pat and rub at her miraculously flat, toned stomach through her overstretched tunic. “And I’m loving the food, be-eeEEEeEaAAaArRRRUuuUUPP~!-lieve me! I haven’t had a meal this good in weeks! It’s just...you know...I wanted to make sure that you’re okay.”

“I...well, what do you mean?” I questioned her, knowing full well what she was talking about.

“I mean everything that’s been happening to you,” Azalon answered, stepping forward towards me with a sympathetic frown of concern. “Especially the night we left. I wasn’t there to keep you safe when I promised Azalea and I would take care of you. And it was right after our date, too! It must have been terrifying, and you’ve barely said anything since then! I’m worried.”

I winced and averted my gaze, shifting from foot to foot. It took me a moment to answer, at which point I told her shakily, “I’ll...be fine. Really. H-here, I just warmed this up, you should eat-” Azalon didn’t even look at the food I proffered to her, taking the plate and setting it aside atop one of several that she had already emptied. “Lyriana, really...I appreciate you helping me cook all this so much, and heating it back up for me, but I think we should talk ab-BBOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUuuuUUuuuUURRrrRRRRRGGHHhuuUurRrraaaAaaaaaAAPPP~!!”

Catching her by surprise in the middle of her sentence, a massive belch came rumbling out of her like a thundering explosion. It blasted into my face with a sweltering, oven-like heat that I’m certain created a shimmering haze in the air and carried a rush of actual steam that washed over me. I was forced to squint as the force of it blew back my hair and physically pushed me backwards, bowling me over onto the floor! Azalon’s whole body shook, her breasts wobbling wildly from the vibrations; even the plates and pans on the tables rattled noisily! Deep and grumbling and slightly wet, the enormous burp must have lasted nearly fifteen seconds before it finally quavered to an end.

Azalon looked down at me with shock and horror on her deeply blushing face, her hands clapped over her mouth (this had done nothing to muffle or soften her beastly eructation). “Oh gosh, Lyriana! Are you okay?!” she yelped, dropping to her knees in front of me as I lay dazed on the floor.

She leaned down and lifted me by my shoulders as if I were light as a doll, looking at me with big, apologetic eyes. Her humongous breasts squashed against my chest as she pulled me close to check on me. “I’m so, so sorry about that, I didn’t feel it coming up! Are you — mmhh~!”

Her question was cut short as I wrapped my arms around her, pressing my hand to the back of her head, and drew her into a spur of the moment kiss. My eyes closed as I pressed my lips to hers and slipped my tongue into her mouth. The taste of her belch was still fresh, an intense lingering heat in her mouth coupled with the residual flavors of everything she had eaten thus far. The alcoholic bite of the dwarven stout, the savory seasonings of all the different meats...most powerful of all was the burning hot spiciness of the peppers. It made my eyes water, but I pushed through anyway. Azalon offered no resistance, and in fact I felt her tongue joining in. It was a messy, unpracticed kiss on my end, but Azalon’s movements were deft and expert.

When at last I pulled away with a gasp and opened my eyes, she was staring down at me with wide eyes and a deep blush that I’m sure was mirrored on my own face. “Please, I really...don’t want to think about those things right now,” I said with a tremble in my voice. “I’m sorry, that was...uncalled for, maybe...”

Azalon shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now,” she admitted with a grin and a soft laugh. “I just held off because, well...with everything happening, it felt like I’d be, I don’t know...taking advantage of you?”

I smiled up at her with relief, and she raised an eyebrow, “So...what do you want to do?”

My breath quickened, and suddenly I found an answer just spilling out of me. “Right now, I just want to feed you, and I want you to eat until you either can’t hold anymore or everything is gone.”

“Really?” Azalon asked lowly, her breath still hot on my face as we awkwardly embraced on the floor. “You just want to...feed me?” I nodded eagerly, breathing heavier now. “I do,” I affirmed. “I want to watch you stuff yourself silly until you’re so full and gassy you can’t move without letting loose!” “I-...wow, that’s-”

I bit my lip and cut her off again, blushing a furious shade of red now. “I-it’s weird, and strange, and disgusting, I know,” I panted, too deep now not to confess. “But it’s been almost all I could think about whenever you’re on my mind!” Azalon couldn’t help but give a cute little snort of a laugh as her lips spread into a smile. “Actually, I wasn’t going to say any of that...I was just going to say ‘kinky,’” she said with a sensual timbre to her voice. Looking over me for a moment, she carried on to ask, “So when you said you didn’t mind how gassy I am, right after you asked me out, that meant...you actually like how gassy I am?”

Still wearing my deep blush, I nodded and smiled sheepishly. “It took me some time to work out my feelings about it at first, but...y-yes. Immensely. I-it’s hard to explain...”

Azalon shook her head, and this time it was her finger pressed to my lips. “Then don’t explain. Not right now, anyway,” she laughed softly. “You said you wanted to watch me...’stuff myself silly,’ right? Until I’m ‘so full and gassy I can’t move?’”

Even just hearing her repeat those words back to me sent shivers of lust tingling through me, and I nodded again. She leaned back, sitting up on her knees and then standing up fully, lifting me with her. Her bosom mashed even tighter against my chest like humongous pillows and dwarfed my own bust as she gave me a quick, teasing kiss on my lips and then gently set me back down on my feet.

She pivoted and cocked her shapely hips to one side, surveying what remained of the feast we’d made. Around half of it was still left — including the entire huge cauldron of stew, which I suddenly realized she hadn’t yet touched. “Hmm,” she hummed thoughtfully, drumming her fingers on her thick, meaty thigh. “With what we have left, I can’t promise ‘full’...”

“...But ‘stuffing,’ and ‘gassy?’” her head turned to peer at me over her shoulder through her fiery hair with matching flame-colored eyes. Her lips turned up into a seductively eager smirk. “That I can gladly do.”

[simplyheretical]

The Firehair, Part 4

Want to read the whole thing start to finish? Here's the Google doc.

What you can expect from this story:

F/F 

First-person perspective

Fantasy setting

Unrealistically Large Breasts and Ass

Belly Stuffing and Inflation

Stomach Noises

Unrealistic/Hyper Gas (Burping and Farting)

Way too much attempt at actual serious plot between the fetishy parts

In this part: Hiccups/Hiccoughs

I made my way out of the tavern and through town, looking for the town watch barracks where the training yard would be. I tried thinking back to the tour Azalon had given me two days ago now, but my memory was proving unreliable — I’d spent too much of the tour watching Azalon’s rear swaying and bouncing in front of me. Curse my quiet lechery!

After wandering up the cathedral hill for a vantage point I finally found my way to the militia training yard, a sizeable area beside the town watch barracks and armory close to the western wall. It was quite informal in layout, comprising mostly of painted hay bales and simple dummies arranged around a large patch of dirt and grass, but it seemed to do the job just fine judging by the pairs of men and some women scattered about the place and sparring. They were practicing fighting with a variety of ‘weapons’ made mostly of wood: some had clubs, others sticks or simple staves, only a few with facsimiles close or of sufficient quality to replicate real weapons. Resources aside, they did seem to have some basic skill.

There amongst them, standing taller than almost everyone else, was Azalon in her cloak and ill-fitting tunic. I could immediately tell where the skill they displayed came from. She was in the midst of a demonstrative sparring session when I arrived, and the trainee facing her was flat on his back in less than three seconds. Her movements were almost too fast for the eye to follow, skilled and practiced and precise.

She helped the man up, and as he got to his feet her gaze wandered towards me. Already smiling, she brightened even further and raised a hand to wave excitedly. “Oh, Lyriana, hey! Did you want to join for some training, too?”

My own hand gingerly waved back, and I smiled. “I suppose I could, why not?” I answered, once again not thinking clearly in her presence. I didn’t really want to do any sparring, but she seemed to enthusiastic about it!

“Great! I’ll get you a practice weapon,” she answered, breaking into a cheerful jog towards a rack of them nearby. I stepped forward quietly, noticing that most of those around were paying me little mind, focusing instead on their sparring...or on Azalon. More than a few of the many trainees, mostly men or teenage boys, were rather obviously leering in her direction as she happily bounced over to fetch a weapon for me. I felt my face heat up again with a bit of jealousy and anger at the way they were looking at her, but some guilt as well as I reminded myself that I had done the same frequently.

Azalon came up to me bearing a sturdy stick about three feet long, roughly the size of a soldier’s arming sword. “Here, I remember you had a smallsword so this is the closest thing we’ve got. Why don’t you spar a bit with some of the others so I can see how good you are?”

I didn’t relish the thought but I agreed, and so I was matched up with other trainees in brief sparring bouts. Having been trained personally by a sword instructor back home, my advantage in practice quickly became clear. I could strike fast around blocks and parries and avoid strikes from the other trainees quite reliably, even if I was lacking in strength and stamina. After besting a handful of the militia trainees and failing against a couple, I was pulled away by Azalon. She smiled at me as usual, patting my shoulder. “You’re pretty good! I like your style, it’s interesting, but I think you could still use a few pointers. Why don’t you go a few rounds with me, and we can have the others watch?”

I winced slightly, remembering how handily she’d put down the man during her sparring earlier, but nodded, and we squared off. I could tell right away she was going easy on me, and still I was losing soundly. I would thrust, she would parry and twist into a strike. I would dodge and move to counter, only for her to hit me first with a follow-up. After every match, she would advise me gently on how to improve, always smiling. “Try adjusting your footing,” “Keep your stance wide,” “Remember to stay balanced and keep your eyes on me!”

It had been some time since my sword instructor’s lessons, and I rarely put my skills into practice. I’d never had anyone to fight, and so to see my learning prove so ineffective began to aggravate me. I tried again and again, losing again and again, but Azalon stayed ever positive and helpful.

Then I saw it: an opening! I had just attempted a thrust at her right side but pulled back. She was shifting her grip, beginning to twist her wrists to pivot her weapon into an upward swing, preparing to strike. Now was my chance! I shifted my feet in one direction, then the other, and ducked low with a forward lunge. I thrust my weapon forward, and she was too late to reverse her movements and parry. My attack drove home into her stomach, and I realized too late I’d been too forceful as she staggered back and lowered her weapon, clapping a hand over her abdomen and doubling over. “Oofh!”

There was a murmur of impressed chatter from the trainees — I was apparently the first to successfully hit Azalon that day — and I winced, straightening out. I dropped my stick and held a hand forward awkwardly. “I-I’m sorry, Azalon, I got carried away! A-are you alright...?”

Azalon didn’t answer verbally, just giving a low groan through her closed mouth as she still clutched her stomach. I stepped forward, worried, to see if she needed help. “I-I didn’t hit you too hard, did I?” I asked as I came close. Azalon winced, and then I heard it: an ominous, gurgling rumble from her stomach like distant thunder. I hesitated, realizing quickly that this wasn’t a noise of hunger.

BLEERRAAAUUuUUuUuuuOooOorRRghhhmmgh~!!

Before I could say anything else, the rumble repeated itself, and Azalon erupted with a massive belch that punched its way from her disturbed gut forcefully. Loud as a cannon shot and almost painful-sounding, it roared out of her for eight long seconds, the first few of which blasted straight into my face and blew my hair back! She considerately aimed away from me as the latter half degraded into a wet grumble, and I just stood there in surprise, my heart pounding in my chest. The air of her burp had been very hot, almost like a less humid sauna, and smelled strongly of her breakfast: eggs, sausage, and honey were the strongest scents I could discern.

I struggled silently against my arousal as her belch tapered off, but then I heard her stomach was still rumbling angrily over my strike, and I blushed. She was still trying to hold something in. Without really thinking, I turned to the others (who were laughing amongst themselves over her gastric outburst) and announced, “I-I think that’s enough from Azalon today, carry on and practice!”

Azalon gave me a questioning look, and I didn’t wait to see how the trainees would react; instead I simply took Azalon by the hand and hurried away with her. The faster we moved the more her stomach complained, and before long she’d started releasing smaller, deeper, grumbling burps as we moved, BruUUuRrrghh~!... MmmbooOrrRghh-oOOorRppgh~!!

“Whe-eEeAaAArrRRPP~! Where are we go-oOuuuUUrRrRGgGhh-ing?” Azalon struggled to ask between uncontrollable, interrupting burps like hot breezes blowing my hair from behind. I didn’t know where we were going, but I felt compelled to answer. “Somewhere you can let loose in private!” I replied as best I could. I didn’t see her reaction, and her only vocal reply was another rattling OOouURRUuULLPppt~!

We ducked through alleys and garden paths. It only lasted less than half a minute but it felt like ages that I tugged her along, holding her hand while she groaned and belched in my ear behind me. Finally we came to a secluded corner between the wall and some buildings and Azalon stopped us simply by ceasing to let me pull her along; I wasn’t strong enough to move her unless she allowed it, I found.

“OoOhgh gods, wait - hic! - wait,” she groaned, clutching both her arms over her stomach with a hiccup probably brought on by her repeated belching. By now the grumbles and gurgles and roars of the indigestion I had triggered were constant and loud; I almost thought I could feel the ground shaking slightly under me! She hiccuped more, her upper body jerking with cute, gasping squeaks — how could such a huge, gassy woman be so adorable? “I - hic! - can’t ho-oOOouUUlLlgh-ld it any long-hic!-ger...!”

Trying consciously not to blush, I put my hands up on her shoulders, having to reach high to do so and try to avoid letting my arms squish into her softly wobbling breasts. “You don’t have to!” I told her with urgency. “Don’t hold back! You’ll just hurt yourself, let it out!”

Her face was heavily reddened already, but she hunched forward as her stomach groaned louder still. I noticed she was already holding one edge of her cloak, and I felt a silence hang in the air like a calm before a storm. This fart was coming out whether she wanted it to or not, with or without my encouragement. I started to back away, wanting to give her some space but also to observe, but suddenly she reached out and planted a hand on my shoulder, leaning on me as if to hold herself up. And then it happened.

PFfFfRrrRRrrRRRooOOoOOBBbBBRrrRRBBLBLLLLLLRRRRRROOOOAAAARRRRPPPPHHHHBBBBTTT~!!!

The bellowing blast was immediately deafening, overpowering all other sound with its colossal, rippling, brassy depth! The immense force of her thundering wind made her enormous cheeks quake gloriously and blew back her cloak right out of her grip, making it flap in the air wildly — again I could see a faint, glowing flash of [i]something[/i] behind her under the cloak, and it even threatened to yank the clasp apart and throw the garment off of her entirely until she once again yanked her free hand to pin it in place at the small of her back, just above her boisterously bouncing buttocks.

I could see grass bending sharply backwards behind her, pebbles rolling away and dust blowing up into the air. Window shutters slammed to one side and birds scattered from perches and rooftops; it even looked like the very air was warping in a haze of sweltering heat behind her like on a hot summer day — and the eruption just kept going! Five seconds passed, then ten, and still she carried on!

This time I really could feel the ground shaking, but I realized that no, it wasn’t the ground. The sheer power of the gas Azalon was expelling was shaking her entire body and wildly jiggling her humongous breasts mere inches from my face, and with her holding on to my shoulder with an iron grip it shook my body too! I could feel myself getting wet, and judging from the blissful look of orgasmic relief on her face, the fluttering of her eyelids and the bracing gritting of her teeth, I wondered if she was too. Then I heard it: the massive, roaring-like sound that the mercenaries must have experienced those years ago at her initiation. Amongst it all, with my intense arousal and the admittedly pleasurable vibration of my body as she held my shoulder, I climaxed and barely kept myself silent by digging my teeth into my lip painfully as my body tensed and quivered and shook.

After a total of around eighteen seconds, Azalon’s gigantic fart finally faded to an end. It never lost power or tapered down; it simply ended, leaving the two of us standing there close to each other and wearing a mutual deep red blush. It left a slightly humid, hot funk in the air with a surprisingly mild smell, not quite foul but certainly not fragrant. “Dragonwind...” I whispered softly under my breath, in awe.

Azalon gave a long, relieved sigh as if she had been holding her breath for the entire duration of her explosion. Her shoulders sank and her body relaxed as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from her (I’m sure it had!). “Aaahhhh-hic!” Another cute hiccup jolted through her, shaking her shelf-like bosom once again. She pulled back from me and gave a sheepish, embarrassed smile that looked meant to hide her shame more than express happiness. “E-excuse m-hic!-me, but that feels mu-uUUURRrraAa-hic!-AAPpPT~!! Mu-hic!-uch better!” Her blush only deepened as she was interrupted multiple times by her own body, and she covered her mouth, adding another, softer “Excuse me!”

I just stared at her in abject lust for a moment, my heart racing and beating out of my chest so much I thought I might collapse and die. I managed to pull myself together enough to clear my throat and say to her with a gentle smile and a shake of my head, “I-it’s alright, really, um...you don’t have to excuse yourself. It’s just natural...bodily functions, right?”

She nodded gingerly but didn’t quite seem to believe me, releasing her cloak at last and rubbing at her calmed stomach (“Hic!”). “Right...”

I chewed my lip lightly where I’d bitten down to keep my shameful orgasm quiet, wincing slightly at the lingering pain. “Listen, um...I actually came to find you so I could ask you something, er...”

“Hm, you - hic! - did?” Azalon looked adorably curious, and the squeak of her hiccup made it too much for me to bear. I had to look away for a moment.

One of my hands wandered up to twirl at some of my Azaburp-loosened hair as I worked up my courage. “Well, yes. Er...I was wondering if maybe you would...like to go on a...date...with me...?” I winced as the paranoia of rejection instantly dug its taloned heels into me, and smiled at her hopefully.

Her eyes widened with surprise and she blushed again. “A date, really??” she asked with shocked excitement. “You me-hic!-ean you’re re-hic-squeak!-really not grossed out or anythi-hic!-ing by my - hic! - my...gas?”

It seemed like her hiccups were escalating as she was getting worked up, and I had to hold back a snicker at her unbearable cuteness. Every hiccup would cause her to lean back slightly and widen her big, ember-colored eyes. “No, far from it!” I assured her, quickly deciding to leave that note where it was rather than explain it fully. That would come later, hopefully. “I just...I think you’re quite lovely, beautiful in fact, and you’ve been nothing but sweet and caring and protective since we met...and...I wanted to see if perhaps we could-” “Yes!” Azalon said abruptly, wearing a huge, beaming smile and her eyes sparkling with starry wonder. My heart fluttered and then soared. “Absolutely! I’d lo-hic!-ove to! I know lots of great places around town or nearby we could go! There’s the be-hic!-the beach, the theater, there’s a ni-hic!-nice clearing by the river up the hill - hic!...” I chuckled softly and waved for her to settle down, shaking my head. “Hahah, easy, easy!” I urged her, grinning joyfully over her acceptance. “We can work that out later!”

Azalon giggled and nodded, “Sure - hic! - sure!” Her hands slowly migrated back towards her stomach and drummed it softly through her top which hung loosely from her shelf of a chest. “Also, heheh, if you really don’t mind at all, then...well, excuse me anyway, in advance!” A brief, gulping swallow of air followed by a firm thump to her chest just under her bust knocked loose an enormous burp that rolled lazily out of her throat for twelve long seconds, BrruuUUUEEEeeeeEEEELlllllLLLCH~!!

I jokingly fanned the air in front of my face and chuckled to hide my continued arousal. “Hahah, are you about done now?” “N-nope, no-hic!-not yet...nnph~!” Azalon said with a light grunt as she leaned to one side and pressed a hand in to the back of one of her perfectly-shaped buttocks. PFFB-BrrRRbB-BBRrRtTtTSsssFffrrRRrrrrr~! Another strong, rippling, and this time slightly bubbly fart ripped from her cheeks and then trailed off into a softening, squeaky whine that stopped after maybe six seconds. She grinned at me with a blush that suggested she was still a bit embarrassed, and fanned her hand behind her. “Ahh, there! Done! Hic-squeak!”

I just giggled, thinking her fanning a joke like mine, but then wrinkled my nose as the smell hit me. While still not horrible, it was certainly more pungent than her previous one. Maybe its blasting power had blown the actual smell away. I pinched my nose briefly and fanned at the air as well; she laughed too.

I was definitely looking forward to our date, whatever it would be.

As much as I wanted to stay there with Azalon in the quiet little alley corner, I needed to clean myself up and actually come up with a plan for our date. Not only that, but I could hear people approaching to investigate the noise; half the town must have heard her fart! We stepped out of the alley together and then parted ways: her back to her daily business and I back towards the tavern.

An hour later I sat in my room, puzzling over what we could do. A nice dinner together seemed an obvious choice, and I very much wanted to see Azalon when she was truly full. It was a difficult decision to make, but as fate would have it I wouldn’t be making it at all. There was a knock on my door. “Who is it?” I called curiously, standing up from my bed.

“It’s meeee!” came the voice of Azalon, cheerfully sing-songing back to me.

“Oh, er, come in?” I bid her, confused. I hadn’t been expecting her.

The door opened and she stepped inside, taking up most of the doorway with her immense curves and formidable height. “Hey, Lyriana! I’ve got the perfect date planned out for us tomorrow!” she declared proudly, planting her hands on her wide hips.

“Really? What is it?”

She grinned at me and told me: “There’s a performance tomorrow at the town theater tomorrow of a play called ‘The Harpy’s Curse!’ It’s a wonderful show, I’m sure you’d love it!”

I smiled, throwing up my hands as if to release my cares to the winds; it was as good a plan as any, and she knew the town far better than I to make it. “That sounds lovely! Of course!”

Azalon just laughed again and nodded, turning to exit the room again. “Great, it’s a date! I’m off to start getting together the food for lunch. Zale gets mad if I make her do the legwork for my meals! See you later!”

I smiled and sat down again, watching her walk out. It felt strange, the idea of going on a date while waiting for word on what to do about being unable to return to my home. In fact, it almost seemed irresponsible in a way, but...as worried as I was, there was nothing else I’d rather be doing. The date couldn’t come soon enough.

I didn’t see her again the rest of that day, which only built my anticipation. When the time finally came and she came to fetch me for our outing together, I could feel my heart fluttering. I had put on the most fitting clothes I could find that I had brought with me on my trip: a violet velvet cotehardie dress with laced white silk sleeves.

When I stepped out, she was wearing a fine outfit of her own, one that I found rather surprisingly nice. More surprising than that, it actually fit her! Her curvaceous figure was snugly and comfortably attired in a pair of black wool hosen and a fine red tunic with a light trim of gold embroidery as well as golden buttons down the front. It was all quite pleasant to look at, particularly considering how it subtly emphasized her impeccable assets, a feature that I would have assumed entirely unintentional if not for the fact she had left the top few buttons of her tunic strategically unfastened to display a good several inches’ worth of deep, wobbling cleavage. As usual, over everything she wore the same long cloak around her shoulders. I was beginning to wonder if she ever took it off!

Her eyes lit up as she saw me, and I realized she must have been just as excited about this as I was. I started to give a curtsy as I greeted her, but she pulled me right into a wide-armed, powerful bear hug that smooshed her massive, pillowy chest right into my face in a not-unwelcome turn. Her grip as she squeezed me tight was firm but gentle, though I could suddenly tell that the strength in those arms of hers was far greater than it appeared, and she could have snapped me in half if she had so much as a whim to do so. Not that I expected such a thing to ever occur, but I was certainly struck by the noticeable sensation of her sheer strength.

She released me after only a second or two with an apology and a step backwards, clasping her hands behind her back and blushing. “Sorry, sorry!” she rubbed one foot against the back of the other. “I-I get huggy when I’m excited, and you look so gorgeous in that dress, I love it!”

I smiled back, probably blushing just as much. “Oh, it’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting it! Don’t worry, it was far from uncomfortable!”

Azalon gave a soft laugh that set her bosom bouncing even more, and I detected a hint of knowing confidence in her expression. She knew exactly what she was doing...and it was working.

We walked together out of the tavern building into the slowly dwindling light of late afternoon, the sun still high but just tilting towards the horizon. “So tell me about this play,” I asked her as we strolled through the streets. “You’ve seen it before? What’s it about, exactly?”

“Oh, better than that,” Azalon shook her head with a prideful grin. “I was in it a couple years ago! It’s about a brave young hero trying to save a beautiful maiden’s life, but the hero is cursed by a wicked harpy! It’s very romantic, actually...” She looked down at me, her grin turning sly.

“It certainly sounds like it,” I chuckled, rolling my eyes. “Were you the brave hero or the beautiful maiden? So far I could see you as either.” She just giggled cheerfully and corrected me, “Neither! I was the evil harpy! Mostly because the maiden’s costume didn’t fit me...and the hero was already cast.”

“You, evil?” I shook my head, trying and failing to imagine Azalon as a curse-casting villain. “That hardly seems believable from what I’ve seen of you so far.”

“More believable than a damsel in distress who’s taller and stronger than anyone else in the show,” Azalon countered with a snicker.

I nodded in concession grinning with amusement. “A fair point.”

We chatted happily together all the way to the theater and even up until we were seated inside. Our seats were near the center of the crowd, and the room around us was simple and modestly sized, housing perhaps a hundred people all together. A series of candle lanterns lined either side of the seating area, and stagehands were just beginning to snuff them out when I heard a familiar sound.

MmMmuUUrrgghh~! A deep, heavy grumble rattled up Azalon’s throat into her closed lips, only barely muffled as she pressed her fist to her mouth. I guessed that she had cut it short intentionally, as she gave me a brief apologetic grin. “Woops, guess lunch is coming back to haunt me,” she whispered.

I smiled back as the lanterns beside our row were put out. “Do you need to get it out before the play starts?” I asked in as casual a manner as I could muster. She just gave a soft shake of her head. “Oh, no no - gmmrrpp~! - I should be fine,” she declared easily with a shorter, more subdued burp into her fist again. “I can probably contain myself until the intermission. It would be rude to get up now!”

I was a little disappointed at first, but as she softly patted her chest and smiled at me I started to think that perhaps the play would be only part of the show tonight. After all, it would be at least an hour or so until the intermission.

“Suit yourself,” I answered quietly as the stage hands finished dousing the lights and the curtain began to rise. “I’m sure you have plenty of practice.” I tore my eyes away from Azalon and looked to the stage as the performance began with the young maiden sauntering into view.

It was only a few minutes into the first scene when I heard the first low, telltale rumbling and groaning from Azalon’s gut and I knew things were going to get interesting. I stole a glance at her; she didn’t look like she was straining yet, but there was some discomfort there in her cute little squirms as she shifted in her seat. It took some willpower to convince myself to switch my attention back to the play, our entire reason for being here, rather than the gassy vision of beauty next to me.

The plaintive noises from her stomach continued softly, repeating periodically every few minutes it seemed like. They were just loud enough to be noticeable, though I was listening for them. I can’t say whether others around us heard, though she did get a few glances from the gentleman in front of her now and then. I found it difficult to focus on the performance whenever her gastric groans popped up even as it came near to the intermission, and each one just made me that much more impatient for her to finally —

“Mrrrppgh~!” I looked towards her and saw her raising her hand to cover her mouth as a burp finally pushed its way out of its own accord. It was just a small one, and quiet; if anyone had heard it, they didn’t seem to pay any mind. She winced and kept her hand cupped over her lips, another belly-growl suggesting another would escape soon after. Sure enough, her cheeks puffed out and a longer, lower belch swelled out of her throat, just a bit louder. She cut it off though, seeming to force herself to swallow the last of it much to her gut’s discontent.

A short while after that, the intermission finally came, and the crowd dispersed, talking amongst themselves. Azalon looked greatly relieved, standing up. “Phew,” she huffed, holding a hand to her midsection. “I think I’ll be right back now. I should be fine if I can let off some of this pressure.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” I asked before even thinking. She chuckled down at me and shook her head. “No no, that’s fine. I’ll just pop outside for a minute or two and be right back in. You can stretch your legs too if you like, though!”

I was disappointed with her answer, but as she walked away I figured it was probably for the best. This was a date, after all, so surely I shouldn’t have been so concerned with deriving selfish, secret pleasure from her.

I half-expected the building to shake, or at least to hear some thunderous roar from outside, but there was nothing. In fact, Azalon didn’t come back until nearly everyone had filed back in and sat down (though watching her thick legs shimmy and scoot through the narrow seating aisle towards me while trying not to bump into people with her protuberant behind was very amusing)! When she sat down again beside me, I saw she still looked noticeably uncomfortable. With a touch of concern, I leaned in and whispered, “Is everything alright?”

GrrRuuUUOoOOAAaGggRRrlLllLlg~...!

She winced again, her stomach giving another, now much more intense grumble that nearly shook her chair under her. “I-I’m fine,” she assured me unconvincingly. “I just...didn’t manage to actually get anything out, it just got stuck. I even tried swallowing air to force it, but I think that only made it worse.” “Stuck?” I echoed, eyes widening. Instantly, my quiet shame was replaced by a mixture of worry and rekindled anticipation. Looking around, people were still talking amongst themselves, but the play would start again soon. “And what if it gets ‘un-stuck’ during the show? We can leave if you want to...” Azalon shook her head, her lips pressed tightly in against themselves with stubborn determination. “No, I can hold it,” she insisted even as her stomach noisily turned as if to audibly contradict her claim. “I don’t want to ruin our date. How have you been liking the play so far?” “Oh, it’s been quite nice,” I answered vaguely. With so much of my attention being regularly diverted to Azalon, I’d missed quite a few lines and possibly some plot points. “It feels a little complicated, but I’m enjoying it.”

She gave a smile that radiated with glee, a reminder of one of the many reasons I’d become so taken with her. “Great!” she said, starting to lower her voice as the crowd began to hush. “I knew you’d like it! The rest is even better, you’ll see!” I couldn’t help but return her smile as the curtain raised again and the play carried on with a monologue from the hero over the curse inflicted upon him.

As the show continued and the drama unfolded I paid as much attention as I could, but there was drama of a different sort playing out next to me. Azalon was doing her absolute best not to show the strain on her face as her guts twisted themselves in knots trying to work through the trapped gas roiling inside her. It was a noisome process as well, not loud enough to cause much disturbance but enough to get her some concerned and annoyed looks from our neighbors in the audience. She clutched at her stomach and tapped her feet, giving apologetic glances to those around her.

Then, around halfway into the remainder of the play, whatever blockage had formed seemed to finally clear up. A particularly long, powerful, burbling groan from her belly preceded a visible shift in her posture as she tensed up. The first burp burst out almost like a surprise, an airy, bouncy noise like a carriage going over a bump or dip in a road, “BwuUrr-ruUrrp~!” and was followed swiftly by one that seemed to almost curve, “U-UUurrrrruuUURgh~!”

Azalon’s cheeks burned in the dark of the theater and she clamped her hand over her mouth again as three more burps bumped and pushed and rolled out of her one after the other in quick succession as if the only thing keeping them from being a single long, continuous eructation was her own futile effort to hold them back. They were little like the bellowing, boisterous blasts I’d come to expect from her, but they were still distractingly loud in the otherwise quiet room, the only other noise being the actors on stage — and I heard them stumbling over lines at first when the belching started!

A low mutter passed through the crowd around us. Azalon looked ashamed, and kept her mouth covered even as she slid lower in her seat and leaned back. Sympathetically and to show my support, I slipped my hand over hers on the arm of her chair. The more relaxed pose she had adopted seemed only to make things worse, though. Belches kept rumbling and growling out of her in a near-constant string, with gaps of perhaps a minute at most between them. They ranged from a second or two to five seconds at the longest. I could feel the strongest ones subtly vibrating her body through her hand, which only made me grip it tighter. It carried on for the whole rest of the play, and before the end the actors actually had to stop once or twice to wait for particularly long and loud outbursts to finish before they could continue.

It was like heaven for me, a secret, kinky dream. The sheer amount of gas she was just letting out uncontrollably, totally involuntarily, even in such an inappropriate setting...I felt myself shaking with excitement by the end, with a hot dampness between my legs and a strong desire to drag her back to the inn and stuff her with whatever food Azalea would cook.

We left through a side exit away from the others of the audience, after Azalon had finally stopped burping. She looked positively miserable, which did dampen my arousal a fair bit.

“I’m sorry,” she groaned despondently as we came into the cool, breezy night air, just at the end of dusk. “I ruined the whole second half. We should’ve just left like you said.”

I shook my head and folded my hands in front of me, “Oh, it was fine!” I assured her with an easy smile. “I had a wonderful time. I’m sure no one minded all that much!”

Azalon frowned, not seeming convinced. “I’m not worried about the other people in the audience,” she said. “I’m sorry to inconvenience them of course, but...well, they’re used to Me, and most of them had seen the play before. But you hadn’t, and this was supposed to be a date!”

I frowned too. There was a pensive silence for a moment. Finally, I reached out and took her hand again. “Well...then it wasn’t really about the play, was it?” I offered, smiling again. “A date is for the people, not the activity. As long as we spent time together and learned some things about each other, then it’s a successful date.”

It sounded more philosophical than I had intended, but it did seem to bring her around, as she returned my smile. “And tonight, I learned that you always try to be considerate, and that you have a dedication to pleasing the people you care about,” I added. “Besides, I asked you out, not the other way around. Shouldn’t I be the one upset it didn’t go as planned?”

That got a chuckle out of her, and seeing her warming up did the same for me. Her fiery orange eyes smiled. “You’ve got a few points there, hahaha! I’m glad you had a good time then, Lyriana. Sorry I kind of took over the date. I’m just used to being the one asking other people out!”

I just grinned and shrugged, and we started on our way back to the Four Winds. Even as we walked (and she belched a few more times along the way) it dawned on me that I likely wouldn’t be able to spend much more time with her. Once the return message came from my aunt, I would probably be leaving Springhaven. The thought pained me as I looked at Azalon again. In such a short time she’d become a friend and more...or at least, someone with whom I felt as though I wanted more.

[simplyheretical]

The Firehair, Part 3

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What you can expect from this story:

F/F 

First-person perspective

Fantasy setting

Unrealistically Large Breasts and Ass

Belly Stuffing and Inflation

Stomach Noises

Unrealistic/Hyper Gas (Burping and Farting)

Way too much attempt at actual serious plot between the fetishy parts

I stayed in the Four Winds that night as Azalea had offered. With the stressful knowledge of my situation bearing down on me I didn’t eat much, but Azalon was right; her sister was an amazing cook, even by the standards I was accustomed to. The food she gave me may have been the reason I was able to sleep at all that night.

The next morning I wrote a letter to my aunt to tell her what had happened, and as promised Azalea sent a carrier bird away with it, saying that it would likely deliver the message in two days’ time. That meant I would be waiting in Springhaven for at least four days for a response, which was a worrisome amount of time. Somehow, though, I didn’t mind the idea of waiting so long as much as I thought I might, perhaps because it meant I could spend some more time getting to know Azalon and her sister. They were a bit strange, especially Azalon, but in a charming way that just made me curious to learn more.

Azalon gave me a tour of the town after I had my breakfast. She had already eaten before I woke up; apparently she made a habit of waking up before dawn every morning to pray as the sun rose. I had been expecting a quaint village, but the tour was quite nice, I found. She showed me her family’s home, a surprisingly large house attached to a forge and smithy where her father supposedly worked, though he was apparently out on a trip to a city market to the south. From there she took me to the town cathedral, which she seemed quite proud of, and then the town’s glassworks, the market, the wharfs and fisheries...it was all interesting, and more prosperous than I expected a community to be outside of the larger cities.

I learned quite a bit about Azalon herself, as well, though not without some admittedly probing questions. She used to be a member of the town watch as a teenager along with her older brother, Nazarol, who perished when the old town chapel burned down — and after whom she had named her horse. The grief drove her to leave Springhaven, after which she joined a mercenary company and worked with them for five years before returning. When she came back, she told me, the new cathedral was almost complete. That was three years ago, she said. I couldn’t get much more from her at the time, and I found myself even more curious than when I’d started; I’d learned more, gotten some answers, but with them came more questions and the sense that this woman only a few years my senior (she was 25 to my 22) had seen and done far more than I could imagine.

The tour took well over three hours, so of course by the time we were finished Azalon was quite hungry. We made it back to the Four Winds, where Azalea seemed ready for us. The tavern was nearly empty, with only a few people nursing drinks or small plates of food likely before returning to their errands and chores for the day. Azalon sat down at the large, central table in the common room. The extra-wide chair seemed perfectly made to hold her phenomenally sized rump.

I pulled up a chair nearby her from an adjacent table, but when I saw the fare being brought out for Azalon (and there was no mistaking it was for Azalon) I reconsidered and scooted further away to give more space. Azalea brought out dish after dish after tray after tray of food, easily twice what I had seen Azalon consume before. Most of the food I could tell was locally sourced, and all of it looked and smelled incredible: a handful of different types of meat, loaves of bread, some fresh-baked pastries, a full pot of hearty stew...I stopped taking stock after the fourth dish was set in front of her. “Here you go, you pig!” Azalea announced as she put down the last plate.

Azalon was already well into feverishly devouring her food when she garbled back with a full mouth, “Mmfh! O’mmh nommt a figh!” This just made her younger sister laugh as she walked away, and Azalon didn’t seem truly bothered.

All in all the spread took up a third of the available surface space. My mind started to race with unexpected excitement — I suddenly understood the purpose of the massive table, and I couldn’t help but think and imagine what it might look like when the table was totally covered. Azalon hadn’t been kidding when she called yesterday’s meals ‘snacks.’ So what did a real, Azalonian feast look like...and what was she like afterwards?

I only realized I was staring when I heard the light clunk of a bowl of stew being set in front of me with a spoon and a piece of bread. I looked up to see Azalea smirking down at me. I gave a sheepish smile, but she just set down some food of her own and took a seat beside me. “Not used to seeing one woman eat enough for an army, I take it?”

“Heh, well, no,” I answered with a polite laugh. “I’m still trying to figure out where it all goes.”

Azalea snorted. “Oh, that’s an easy one: straight to her tits and ass,” she chuckled, taking a slow, easy spoonful of stew. She spoke softly so as for Azalon not to hear, but had no malice in her voice. “But I’ll grant you that before it gets there, no one knows. It takes a lot before she starts getting bloated or anything...and even that doesn’t last long.”

The table shook slightly as Azalon practically dropped an emptied plate of fish and released a short but loud, quivering belch that barely had time to finish before being cut off by a mass of buttered bread.  

I gave a little smirk, trying to ignore the mental image of a bloated, overstuffed Azalon that didn’t seem to want to go away. “Heheh; maybe it’s all just churned up straight into gas,” I half-joked, intending the comment to be just that.

“Hah!” This time, Azalea’s laugh was more overt, but Azalon didn’t seem to pay any attention. “Oh, don’t get me started on that! She could weaponize the stuff if she wanted to! Did you know she was a mercenary for a while?”

I nodded, curious where this tangent was going. “Yes, with the...Sapphire Flames, was it?” “The Silver Flames,” Azalea corrected me lightly with a nod in return. “Oh, this is just gold. Hang on — Azalon! Did you tell Lyriana they used to call you ‘Dragonwind’ in the Silver Flames?”

The larger sister immediately looked up from her food, her face beet red. “N-No! Zale, why do you always have to bring that up? It’s embarrassing!”

“Oh hush, I’m your sister! Embarrassing you is my job!” Azalea retorted, snickering as she turned back to me. “So, this was probably...eight years ago, now? She was just starting with the mercenaries, and it was the initiation ceremony for all their newest recruits. I managed to make it there to observe, so I could support my sister, you know?”

I nodded, letting Azalea continue. “So the biggest part of the celebration was this massive feast they had prepared, all laid out on a half-dozen big, long tables that could probably seat twenty people each. Now, Azalon and the squad she was assigned to had just come back from a big mission they’d been given to serve as her initiation test; some kind of rogue noble lord raiding the countryside with his soldiers. It apparently went pretty rough, because Azalon barely made it out alive. She’d been healed up by the time of the ceremony of course, but all the recovery and healing magic meant she was hungry. I mean hungry, even for Azalon hungry!”

“So she ate and she ate and she ate as Azalon does,” Azalea carried on. Across the table, her sister had slowed her pace to keep an ear on Azalea’s telling of the story. “Roasted hogs, steaks, braised duck, cheese wheels, fresh bread, pies, pastries, stewed meats, curries, fruits and vegetables of all sorts, juicy melons, plenty of spicy hot peppers-”

“Oohhhh gods, that feast was so good~,” Azalon interjected dreamily, prompting a laugh from Azalea that suggested she had intentionally baited such a reaction.

“Hah! Long story short, she was in heaven,” the younger sister concluded her listing of foods. “I’m pretty sure she cleared at least a table or two. Meanwhile, up at one end of camp, the General of the company stands up and he starts giving a speech. Honor, integrity, so on, until eventually he starts calling out the names of the recruits one by one to stand up. He’d question them a bit over their test missions, and if they were fit for the company they’d swear an oath and sit back down, or if not, they’d be sent away.”

“He goes through about five people before finally he calls Azalon’s squad...but she doesn’t hear him right away. She’s either too distracted still stuffing her face or still too out of it from her injuries, so he has to call her again before she notices. When she finally stands up he asks her name, but her mouth is full, so she has to hurry up and swallow everything down to say it! Then he starts grilling her about her mission.”

Glancing across the table, I could see Azalon had stopped eating entirely and was slumped down with embarrassment, face down and groaning into her cleavage as she sensed the end of the story coming. Azalea just smiled and carried on, seeming to delight in the sisterly torment. She giggled, “Poor Azalon is just standing there saluting, nervous, and when he asks the first question she freezes! Everyone’s staring at her, she feels like she’s being judged, so she’s just nervous and flustered, butterflies in her tummy, still recovering from injuries, stuffed with her body weight or more in food...and she starts to sweat, gets kind of nauseous, and then...”

By now, Azalea was having to hold herself back from giggling, more in reaction to Azalon’s apparent shame than the story itself it seemed. She shook her head as her big sister groaned again, blushing furiously. “Heeheeheehee! She...she let out The. BIGGEST. FART. I or ANYONE else in that camp had ever or will ever hear in their entire lives! It was really, REALLY loud, louder than a war horn! The entire camp heard it, hahaha!” I blushed sympathetically for Azalon’s embarrassment, though I couldn’t help but chuckle at the story. “Heheheh, well surely that’s not too bad-”

“Oh no, that’s not all,” Azalea interjected, wagging her finger with a grin. “Not only was this fart monstrously loud, it was a force of destruction! Her fart was so strong it knocked over the table behind her, a TWENTY-PERSON TABLE, and toppled over the tent beyond that! The people at that table were pinned underneath it until it flipped over again in the blast! It must’ve been almost a whole minute long, too!”

My blush had deepened, though no longer out of sympathy. I twisted my lips disbelievingly. “Come now, that’s ridiculous,” I said.

Imagine my surprise when Azalon’s voice contradicted me with an ashamed groan. “No...it’s truuueee...” she sighed into her deep, pillowy cleavage, her voice muffled but still understandable. Glumly, she lifted her head and confessed, “And the General said out loud in front of everyone that it sounded like a roaring dragon, so they started calling me ‘Dragonwind’ because of my big, loud, stupid dragon fart that destroyed the camp, and Azalea has never stopped teasing me about it! There!” She glared daggers across the table at Azalea before stuffing some pastry into her mouth as if to comfort herself. “Now you’re going to make fun of me...”

Azalea, meanwhile, looked to be silently dying of laughter, wiping a mirthful tear from her eye. I sat in stunned silence, occasionally breaking into short chuckles but mostly just wondering...could such a story really be true? Breaking wind at that magnitude seemed like an impossibility, but if Azalon was saying it really happened despite her clear humiliation.... I bit my lip quietly, staring across at the elder Deguellios sister’s lovely, perfect face. I’d already seen her belch like a beast, and she’d farted in front of me once as well...was she really capable of that? Suddenly, I felt an inexplicable burning desire to know.

“N-No,” I denied, blushing more deeply no matter how I tried to hide it. “I’m sure it was humiliating, of course, but...um...”

Recovered from her laughing fit, Azalea once more interjected, saving me from my stumbling. “What she never chooses to remember,” she added sagely, “Is that not only was she accepted into the Silver Flames, but she was treated like a damn hero for the rest of that night. Everyone loved her, and they were lining up to give her more food and drink until the moment she went to sleep! Isn’t that right, Azzie?” Azalon nodded concedingly, managing a faint smile. “They were really nice...”

“Because you had just given them one of the best stories of their lives...and because they were all drunk and thought you were hilarious,” Azalea finished with a chortle. Turning to me, she sighed. “I tell that story to every girl Azalon brings home that seems even a little interested in her. I figure if that scares them off, they don’t deserve her. Usually, they just don’t take it seriously...but I haven’t yet met one who seemed even more interested after hearing it,” she said, looking at me with a slow, growing smirk.

I gulped, once again feeling like Azalea had caught me with a secret. The difference was that this time, I hadn’t even been aware I was keeping one.

The conversation quickly turned away from Azalon and myself as if Azalea were trying to give me a respite from her scrutiny, but her words kept echoing in my head even as I excused myself upstairs to my room with a weak excuse of feeling tired and considering a nap. I needed some time alone to think. I couldn’t fully escape Azalon’s presence, though. Before I had even gotten all the way up the stairs, I stopped at the sound of one of her meaty eructations bursting from her esophagus almost tauntingly, “BwhuuUUuUrrRRPP~!” I felt a low rush of arousal, and my body urged me to go back — and I knew Azalea had read me right. I took a deep breath and carried on to my room, faster now.

I closed the door and sat down on the edge of the bed and thought, fidgeting with my hands. I couldn’t ignore it anymore, I knew: Azalon had gotten her hooks in me, just like Azalea said. I’d only known her for a day and a half now, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her, or staring at her. Those big, honest, vibrant eyes, that lovely waterfall of flame-red hair, those ever-smiling, plump lips...those thick, strong thighs and wide hips...those humongous, pillowy breasts, so fat and heavy and intractable yet somehow still perky and bouncy...that massive, perfectly defined, heart-shaped ass that could crush me underneath it, with huge but toned cheeks so large it almost seemed as though I could get lost between them....She was built like a goddess; how could I blame myself, falling for a girl like that?

And then there was her gas.

There were any number of things I could fault her for socially. As a woman of noble birth and upbringing, manners and bearing and propriety were at the forefront of my education. Azalon lacked in every category I could think of, but...not a single one bothered me. She made up for all of it with her jolly charm and earnest enthusiasm in ways that just made her all the more cute and endearing to my eyes. She made efforts where it counted, and as yet I had never seen her be outright rude or malicious.

But the way she belched was different, however strange that sentiment sounded. While it was undoubtedly not intended as such (or any way, really), every burp she released felt like a brazen, confident rejection of etiquette...and I loved it. It was like a loud, and perhaps indeed proud cry of “I don’t care about your rules or expectations, and look how wonderful it feels!” It was crass and vulgar and unladylike, but in a way that was just...intoxicating. It was strength. It was satisfaction. It was pure, hedonic bliss.

BRAAAaAEeEeeUuuUurrrllpp~!

Another powerful belch pushed its sound through the floor and into my ears, resonating with deep satisfaction but still tapering off into an airy, buzzing grumble that was still strong enough to hear even muffled. I gasped, startled pleasantly out of my ruminations; Gods, they’re loud, I thought. With as much as Azalon ate regularly, I started to think it was a wonder she didn’t burp even more. My eyes widened as it occurred to me: what if she did usually burp more? Was she holding back to try and make a good impression on me, maybe? She didn’t seem ashamed or embarrassed of her burping...

The ‘Dragonwind’ anecdote crossed my mind again, and I nearly shivered. If it was really true, and Azalon had produced such force and power from a fart, then it could potentially happen again. I might be around to witness it, too. I imagined how those huge, toned cheeks of hers might vibrate from such an explosion, and the blissful, perhaps even orgasmic relief on her face...

I groaned, some self-awareness tainting my fantasies. What was wrong with me, sitting alone in my room fawning over a woman I’d barely met and fantasizing over her bodily functions? Philosophizing about her burps and farts? Maybe that hit on the head was worse than I’d thought. I retrieved my hand mirror and brushed aside my hair to look with a sigh. The bump was still there, but smaller and less painful. No, I knew that wasn’t it. This wasn’t some injury-born madness, or stress warping my feelings. Azalon had awakened this in me, and Azalea had helped me recognize it.

I didn’t hear any more burps from below, so I presumed Azalon had left to carry on with her day. I sighed and lay back onto my pillow. Maybe a nap wouldn’t be so bad, I reasoned. It might clear my head.

After some time tossing and turning I managed to fall asleep, but my head was anything but clear. Azalon followed me to my dreams.

I stood on the ramparts of Harronfell castle, looking out over the besieging army below as they charged the walls with rams and ladders. A light appeared behind the faceless horde: Azalon riding in on her horse with that gleaming sword. They all turned to swarm her at once but she fought like a lion, leaping from her horse and wading through them like a scythe through wheat. And just when it looked as though she might be overwhelmed, there was a great explosion as she blew them all away in one titanic fart that shook the castle walls. She turned her brightly smiling face to me and winked.

Then we were in a vast dining hall, tables all covered in an endless feast all meant for us. Plate after platter after pot after table of food vanished into Azalon’s belly as she ate, fueling the massive, rolling thunder-claps that were her belches. She kept blasting out burps one after the other, everything from cute little pops and buzzes to enormous roars that rattled the building and sent her heavy bosom quaking deliciously. I climbed into her lap and began to feed her, stuffing her full and feeling her belly begin to bloat and swell with the excess food and gas until it was a fat, heavy orb of a gut that her humongous breasts could rest on like a shelf.

She belched gloriously, a deep and bassy rolling burp of gratitude and pride rushing over my face in a rush of hot air. Then there were courtiers and nobles all around us, lords and ladies turning up their noses in disgust and berating us, berating me, for our foulness. But Azalon held me close and began to feed me, packing my stomach with sweet and savory delights until I reared my head upwards and burped to the heavens with a force that vibrated my whole body. The onlookers vanished, leaving Azalon and myself alone in our gluttonous, gassy hedonism.

I finally woke up in a sweat, breathing heavily. The wild fantasy was still fresh in my mind but quickly fading into haziness, and I threw the sheets off of myself, blushing furiously. It was then I realized that there was a sticky dampness between my legs, and coating some of the fingers of one hand as well.

Even as I did my best to clean away the evidence of my perversion with what magic I knew, my cheeks still burned with a mixture of lust, guilt, and shame. At least I was honest with myself now, I supposed, but I owed Azalon honesty as well. She had called me pretty, and going by what she and Azalea had said, she too was attracted to other women...perhaps I had a chance of making it work?

For most of the rest of that day and the day after, I barely saw Azalon. It was actually something of a relief not to be around her constantly as I had been since she rescued me, because it gave me more time to think and process my feelings. She was apparently quite busy whenever she was in town, stopping her constant work and activity only for food breaks — and by the sound of things, she was like a halfling in that meals came at least six times a day if she could manage it.

Her work around town was quite varied, as well: she volunteered at the cathedral, paid visits to the local orphanage, helped out with manual tasks wherever she could find them, did work in her father’s forge while he was away, and even personally trained the town watch in combat. I could see why she seemed to be so well-liked by the townsfolk, maybe even beloved — she seemed to do almost nothing all day but go, move, do, work, all of it somehow done to help her neighbors and lend a hand. It sounded too good to be true, like the sort of thing you would hear said about a saint of old — if saints had bottomless appetites and powerful, potentially destructive gas.

From what Azalea told me, it was largely out of a sense of devotion to her community; a community that Azalon saw as an entire town of very dear, personal friends. That, and Azalon was constantly full of energy — “sloth” was practically unknown to her. She was always working or training or socializing whenever she could, keeping herself busy, and with no distinct, singular job to dedicate herself to, the method of doing so was always changing.

This constant activity was probably part of why she had such a massive appetite, and always had. Beyond that, Azalea’s best guess was an extremely fast and overactive metabolism — her body worked through, digested, and processed her food almost as fast as she could eat it, turning it into energy, body fat that she rapidly burned off, and of course, gas. It only made me further convinced that Azalon was holding back around me (or maybe even in general, around everyone?), and I wondered what it would look like if she-

“You certainly seem to have a lot of questions about Azalon,” Azalea said with a smirk and a raised eyebrow as she was washing off one of dozens of plates from Azalon’s breakfast in the Four Winds kitchen, where we were talking. It was morning, the beginning of my third day in Springhaven, and the sun shone in through the windows brightly, illuminating the room well.

I blushed. I had been so caught up in my own headspace, my curiosity and fascination with Azalon, that I hadn’t even realized how much I was badgering her sister. “O-oh, well, she’s just very interesting is all. I’ve never met anyone quite like her...”

“Oh, but I’m not interesting?” Azalea chuckled, setting aside the plate and beginning on the next. “Believe me, everyone who meets Azalon has questions whether they ask them or not. I’m her sister, I know full well how unusual of a person she is. We share our hair and eyes — from our mother’s side, according to papa — but she’s something else. Everyone wonders about the girl who’s taller than most men and ten times as strong, with farts like a natural disaster!” She grinned and giggled to herself, once again enjoying taking a shot at her sibling.

“You really like teasing her, don’t you?” I observed with a soft chuckle, trying to keep things purely conversational to throw her off the scent of my crush.

Azalea shrugged, not entirely looking at me but maintaining a passive, light smile at the corners of her mouth. “Well enough, but I never mean any harm by it, and she knows it. Everyone she interacts with is either stunned and confused — a lot like you — or heaping her with love and praise in various degrees. I love her too, of course, but someone has to put weight on the other end of the scale, even if only a little. So I tease the hells out of her and embarrass her and generally try and keep her from getting an inflated ego.”

I scrunched my face uncertainly. “I don’t know, Azalon seems anything but egotistical. If anything, from what you’ve said she’s quite selfless.”

“Then I’m doing an excellent job, aren’t I?” Azalea laughed. “But more than that, I try and keep an eye out for her...and keep an eye on people interested in her.” Her eyes flitted towards me questioningly, their jocular casualness replaced by sobering seriousness. “Even she has enemies, and she’s not the best at seeing them.”

I shrunk away a little, suddenly feeling rather intimidated, but then Azalea’s expression shifted again, and she shook her head, smirking again. “So...why are you really interested in Azalon so much?”

“Well, um...” I gulped, wracking my brain for a moment before deciding that it would be simplest to just come out and say it. “To be quite honest, I’ve...become rather attracted to her, and I wanted to learn more about her.” “So why not ask her directly?” Azalea questioned, turning towards me with renewed intrigue.

I shifted on my feet, unused to such scrutiny, especially from a commoner. In fact, both of the sisters seemed to treat me less like a noblewoman and more like an equal. It was strange, but also refreshing. “I...well, I would, but she’s so busy, and I...ugh, I...I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of her.”

Azalea stopped her scrubbing, setting the plate she’d been working on aside. “Oh! Oh...so it’s more than just an ‘attraction,’ isn’t it?” Her lips turned into a bright smile greatly resembling her sister’s. “You’ve got a crush on her! Ha, oh, that’s actually a new one!” “I...wait, it is?” I blinked at her quizzically, my cheeks flushing a bit.

“Oh don’t get me wrong, Azalon’s had plenty of ‘partners’ so to speak, and she’s been in relationships before,” she clarified. “But it’s always been her that initiated. So you want to...ask her for a date?” “Yes!” my mouth blurted before I had a chance to think about it, and I blushed deeper. I covered my mouth. “Um...do you think I would have a chance with her?”

“Knowing Azalon, I think you’d have a very good chance,” Azalea grinned. “She loves demure noble types like yourself.”

My eyes widened. “Really, she does?” I started to smile, hopeful, and then hesitated. “Wait...has she said anything about me to you?”

She snickered softly, shaking her head. “I’ll never tell~.”

I gave a troubled sigh, folding my hands in front of me. “Well then...do you have any advice for me?”

Azalea hummed, seeming to think the question over. “I think it’s best you just approach her with confidence and be direct. She doesn’t do very well with subtlety.” Her eyes darkened again as she looked at me and added, “And you’d best not do anything to hurt her. Period.” I started to speak up to assure her I would do no such thing, but before I could get the words out she had already switched back to a cheery smirk. “Oh, and also,” she said helpfully, “She loves spicy food. Hot peppers, curries, that sort of thing. The hotter the better!” “Go on now,” Azalea shooed me with a wave of her hand, turning back to her dishes. “If you want to find her, she said she was going to train with the town watch and militia. I have work to do, and now so do you!”

I stammered, trying to sort through Azalea’s intentionally scattered tones, but hurried away when she shooed me once more.

[simplyheretical]

The Firehair, Part 2

If you would rather read the whole story in one sitting, you can go to this Google doc in which I write it. You can also find it on the Burp Fetish Forums website.

What you can expect from this story:

F/F 

First-person perspective

Fantasy setting

Unrealistically Large Breasts and Ass

Belly Stuffing and Inflation

Stomach Noises

Unrealistic/Hyper Gas (Burping and Farting)

Way too much attempt at actual serious plot between the fetishy parts

We packed up the campsite and set out back towards the road, starting on our journey to Springhaven. I lamented that I was unable to risk returning to the site of the ambush to honor the men who had died protecting me — even if I could take the chance, we had no tools to give them a proper burial. Azalon sympathized with me, and suggested that we could speak to the priest in town; he could make the journey and give them last rites.

Azalon rode her own horse and I on mine beside her with the wagon following behind us, all moving at a steady trot. We talked on and off throughout the journey, and she maintained a bright and infectious smile the whole way, but I tried to avoid looking at her too much. I wasn’t averse to her chipper positivity, in fact I was quite enjoying her bubbly commentary and the little tunes she would hum. It was a welcome distraction from the still fresh horror of the previous night, and I hadn’t encountered anyone willing to be so carefree or open around me in quite some time due to my being nobility.

Rather, I tried not to look because I didn’t want to start just staring at her again, or to start laughing. She had put on her gambeson, the padded coat that served as the first layer of her armor, before we started off. Even with that thick material covering her, though, the sheer size of her massive, perky chest made her bosom bounce visibly and heavily with the rhythm of her horse’s steps, and exactly at my eye level. It made her look rather ridiculous, hence my worry that I might laugh, but it was also another testament to the incredible proportions she sported, which had captivated me against my will or realization when I first saw her out of armor.

What I couldn’t avoid, however, was hearing her periodic burps. I wasn’t sure — and didn’t ask — if it was just normal for her or if the light bouncing and jostling of the trotting horse was shaking up her stomach, but it seemed like every ten or twenty minutes a burp would force its way out of her. Sometimes it would be in the middle of a sentence, otherwise it would be a sudden outburst from silence...at one point, while she was humming one of her little melodies, a particularly insistent one burst into her closed mouth mid-note like a growling beast, and she just carried on humming as if nothing had happened. Sometimes she would excuse herself, other times she would forget or perhaps not even notice she had belched. None of them were quite close to the monster that she’d unleashed after breakfast, though.

Just as she had predicted, a couple of hours into traveling she started feeling hungry again. We didn’t stop, as both of us knew the sooner we reached town the better, but her occasional burps were growing weaker, airier, and less frequent. Another hour in, I started hearing that loud, grumbling growl of her stomach again. GrrrroooOooOAAAWWwrRrrr~...

Azalon remained cheerful and accommodating, but I could detect some distinct discomfort creeping into her face. Neither of us wanted to stop and delay our journey for the hours it would take to hunt more food, so we carried on, but things only got worse. The longer we went, the more insistent her gut became, voicing its complaints louder and more often. Finally around mid-afternoon, the begging rumble in her belly was nearly constant, whining and growling every few seconds and at such a volume I’m certain it began to scare the horses. Azalon looked miserable, a hand clutching at her tummy and her face screwed up as she stared ahead at the road, wishing we were in Springhaven already.

I looked at her and sighed, unable to stand making her wait any longer for food, and declared we were stopping to eat. There was a look of joyful relief on her face even as she insisted she could manage until we arrived, but I insisted — just as much to spare myself and the horses from her roaring ogre of a stomach as to keep her from starving.

To save time, once we pulled off the road and found a good place to sit, I opened up the wagon’s food supply It was well-stocked, having been intended to keep me and my escort going for half the journey to Castle Harronfell, after which we intended to restock at a city along the way. I thanked the stars that Azalon’s home was less than a day away; if the rabbits that morning had been just a ‘light snack’ to her, who knew how long the rest of this would last her?

Most of the available food was bread and dried meat, with a few small wheels of cheese and of course the cask of light wine for drinking. I didn’t dare let her take her pick and serve herself freely, because as considerate as she seemed to be, I wasn’t sure she would be able to stop herself. Instead, I brought her food to her, which she very gratefully accepted: two loaves of bread, a few pounds of peppered dried beef, and a whole wheel of cheese. She dug in voraciously.

My assumption that morning of not being able to eat for the rest of the day had proved untrue, as by now my stomach was calmed down and seemed willing to accept some more food as well, so I sat down with a modest hunk of bread, some cheese, and a cup of wine for myself. While I nibbled on my snack, I watched Azalon tear through her meal like a woman possessed. It was difficult not to; she ate with the same eagerness as before, every bite a huge one taken with a seemingly contradictory mix of urgency and savored delight. The food now was certainly not as tasty as her expertly seasoned rabbit had been, but if she was dissatisfied at all she didn’t show it. Perhaps the variety of having cheese and bread this time rather than just meat and wine made up for it.

I must have refilled her wine cup for her a half-dozen times, but with as much food as she was taking in and with the metabolism she seemed to have, I didn’t find myself worrying whether she would get drunk so much as whether I would run out of wine to give her. Every so often she would pause her eating to let out a quick burp, even if her mouth was still full of food. A hunk of bread would vanish down her throat, followed by a fist-sized lump of cheese or a chunk of beef, and then “BwuUUrgh~!”

It wasn’t long before she’d finished everything I gave her and she asked with another rumbling burp, “HoOOORP~! Is there any more?” Before I knew it, I was fetching her seconds and thirds of everything long after I had finished my own food. I almost felt like she was the noble and I the serving maid, if not for her lacking manners and obscenely frequent eructations. I went back once more to give her yet another round of servings and found she had single-handedly eaten a full third of the food in the wagon!

“Not to be rude, Azalon,” I said to her worriedly, “But would you mind terribly if we got back on the road now?”

“Of co-oOoOOuUUuRRR-se!” she answered with a forceful, involuntary belch that sent her into a brief fit of giggling. I could smell the wine again, along with the thick dairy scent of the cheese. “Hahahah, ‘scuse me, sorry! I just needed a pick-me-up is all, we can always get a real meal in town! Thanks so much for getting me more, by the way, you didn’t have to.”

I smiled softly and nodded to her, “You’re welcome, of course,” but felt a reddening heat in my cheeks as I looked at the back of the wagon again. And I was worried SHE wouldn’t be able to control herself, I thought. What’s going on with me?

I packed up the remaining food, still a few days’ worth for a normal person, and shortly we were back to riding along. With so much filling food packed into Azalon’s stomach, the burps shaken free by riding were fewer but deeper and stronger. They would start muffled and low in her throat before she opened her mouth, and then rise up with building power to come charging out as she parted her perfect lips. “MmmghhaARP~!”

Several minutes later, another: “MmguUUHRRP~!”

And then later still: “MmheEEaaAurp~!”

It must have been mundane for her, because half of them she didn’t even notice. A three-second belch would push its way out loud enough to wake the dead, and her face would be a mask of total, uncaring absence. Whenever reminded in any way of my presence, she would smile apologetically and excuse herself, and it seemed sincere enough but also felt as though it was purely for my benefit, to make me feel better rather than to express embarrassment or shame. I started to wonder what this sister of hers she had mentioned was like — would she, too, be a belching tower of curves?

It took perhaps forty-five minutes before I began hearing her stomach growling and gurgling again. I looked over at her with surprise. “You can’t be hungry again so quickly?” I asked with astonishment while her bowels noisily churned under her gambeson.

Azalon blushed and shook her head. “No, it’s not that,” she assured me, averting her gaze a bit. “I can hold out for a while now before we eat more. Oof, this is different, um...I think I’m having a bit of indi-” PhrrrrBBbBbBbBRRoOOoOOBbBBpphht~!!

“...-gestion...”

I stared with eyes wide and mouth agape. The fart that had just blasted its way from her voluminous rump was a trumpeting, rumbling beast that bellowed deeper than a tuba at its lowest point. It vibrated her round cheeks for seven solid seconds, launching the cloak behind her upwards like a gust of, for lack of a better term, wind. I thought I caught a flash of something beneath it, but she had quickly reached back and yanked the cloak down, pinning it to the middle of her back with one arm — only for it to continue fluttering in her wind below it for the remainder of her brassy eruption.

The deep rosy blush tinting Azalon’s cheeks as she bit her lip with mixed relief and embarrassment showed that this outburst had definitely not gone unnoticed. She pulled her arm back from her cloak and grabbed her horse’s reins again, stammering slightly. “Um...uh, heheheh, er...e-excuse me...?” A sheepish, nervous smile replaced her usual pleasantly jolly one as she looked at me.

I didn’t know what to say for a moment, still parsing through what had just happened. That came out of her? “I-I...y-you’re excused...?” I managed to say, my voice drifting into a question-like tone.

There was a long moment of silence, both of us blushing in mutual embarrassment while the horses carried us forward. “...How much farther to Springhaven?” I asked.

“About ten miles? A couple of hours,” Azalon answered, her eyes focused straight forward.

“Wonderful,” I nodded, sealing our unspoken agreement not to bring up her accidental eruption again.

“Here we are!” Azalon announced with a bright grin as we crested over a small hill in the dimming evening light. She turned towards me and threw her arm out proudly towards the peaceful valley below. I urged my horse forward a few more steps and looked out to see a pleasant, rural beachside town straddling a small, curving river. Dozens of houses were scattered in small clusters around the river’s edge and the shore, and I could see the faint pinpricks of lanterns dotted amongst the streets. A cathedral sat atop a hill overlooking the town and the sea alike, and though it lacked the grand scale and architecture of those I had seen in larger cities, it appeared to be rather new and built with a rustic charm that spoke to its community’s devotion and care; if nothing else, it was certainly the most remarkable structure in sight. The whole town was encircled by a short stone wall of perhaps fifteen feet high, and stretching out beyond it on either side of the river were farmlands for quite some distance.

“Welcome to Springhaven, Lady Lyriana!” she declared with a beaming smile that I couldn’t help but echo lightly myself.

I nodded, gazing out over the town and already feeling relieved. I could smell the brine of the ocean already on the cool breeze. “Finally,” I sighed. “We can sleep in real beds and perhaps you’ll be able to eat enough to fill you for more than a couple of hours!”

I felt a pang of worry immediately after saying that, afraid she might have taken it poorly, but as I looked over to Azalon she just laughed and grinned at me, shrugging her shoulders. Once again her stomach gave a noisome grooOoOOAaWwWllLll~ as if to agree with me, which only made her laugh more. “Hahahaha! Definitely!” she concurred, rubbing her palm in small circles over her empty belly through her padded coat. “Come on, let’s go!”

We rode down the hill and onward into town. People milled about the streets and by their homes going about their end-of-day chores, children ran by in gangs chasing each other and playing with sticks, and a surprising number called out in greeting when they saw Azalon coming, including the children. Every time, she would return the favor with a smile and a wave, calling back with a hello of her own. I stayed quiet, happy to just take in the lovely idyllic charm of the place, but I did notice I was getting more than a few looks and some greetings of my own, usually with a measure of polite deference due to my expensive clothes. It was the sort of attention I was used to as the daughter of a land-owning noble; I waved back as well a few times.

Soon we arrived at what a modestly sized inn and tavern with a brightly painted sign hanging over its door, proclaiming its name as the “Four Winds Inn” beneath a depiction of a compass seemingly being carried by a cloudy gust. We put up our horses in the attached stable, where it seemed that Azalon in particular was given special consideration; when the stable boy saw her, he immediately led us back into an empty section of the stables where he put all four of the horses we had with us as well as the wagon.

We carried on inside and were greeted by a very homely ambience. The common room was large and open, lit by scattered candles, simple iron chandeliers, and a roaring fireplace at one end of the room. Opposite that was a small raised stage where a pair of men sat playing a jaunty folk tune on their instruments. Ten circular tables of roughly uniform size were scattered around the room along with several more lining the walls, about half of them occupied with village folk eating and drinking after their days’ work. Some I could tell were off-duty town guards by the light, colored armor they wore and the weapons at their belts. Very conspicuously, a table much larger than the rest sat in the center of the room with a single, wide-bottomed chair unoccupied at one end.

Everyone in the room seemed happy to see us as we came in, or more specifically, happy to see Azalon. A welcoming cheer rolled through the place as they acknowledged her arrival, some raising glasses to her while others waved or just flashed smiles her direction. She received them all with her usual smile and led me forward through the room, taking me towards the bar where a middle-aged woman stood waiting. “Welcome back, Azalon, dear!” she said with an almost motherly tone. “You’re back early; and who’s this lovely Lady you’ve brought to us?”

Azalon pulled up a chair and sat down, her huge, shapely bottom filling and overfilling the seat; I heard a light creaking in the wood as she eased into it. “This is Lady Lyriana of Harronfell,” she introduced me with a presenting gesture, bidding me to sit as well. “She’s had a bit of trouble and I brought her back here so she could get her bearings again. Is Azalea in?”

“She is,” the older woman nodded with a smirk, looking at Azalon knowingly. “But I’m afraid we weren’t expecting ya back so early, dear, so you might not go to bed quite full tonight. I’ll go fetch her and let her know you’re here.” With a kindly smile and a soft curtsy towards me, the woman vanished through a door by the bar into what smelled deliciously like the kitchen.

After a brief moment she returned with a much younger woman following behind her, perhaps my age, who I could immediately tell was the sister Azalon had mentioned. She lacked the formidable height of Azalon, or the intimidating, exaggerated curves (though she still outmatched me by no small margin!), but the flawless features of her smooth face and the bright, ember-colored hair and eyes were unmistakable, if a bit darker than her sister’s. She stood about as tall as me, dressed in a comely yellow and green dress detailed with simple flower patterns, with a cook’s apron draped over the front.

Azalea, as I gathered her name to be, approached Azalon and embraced her — though not before standing on her toes, I noticed, to avoid being smothered by her sister’s humongous chest. “Azzie!” she said cheerfully.

“Zale!” Azalon echoed, squeezing her sister tightly in a joyful bear hug that I worried for a moment might snap the smaller girl’s spine. “Let me introduce you to my new friend,” friend? “Lyriana, this is my little sister Azalea. Azalea, this is Lyriana!”

“‘Little’ nothing...” I muttered, only realizing it had been out loud when Azalea gave a chuckling snort. “Ahem, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The younger Deguellios sister gave me an amused half-smile and nodded. “You, too. Don’t worry though, it’s not just you: Azalon’s gigantic. Taller than our papa, too!” Azalon rolled her eyes and gave Azalea a softly admonishing shove, but Azalea just chuckled again. “So, how’d Azzie get her hooks in you, Lyriana? Was it her roguish charm or her enormous curves?”

I leaned back slightly and felt a blush burning my cheeks, though I wasn’t sure why. There was no truth to her question, nothing between me and Azalon; certainly, Azalon was indeed quite charming and beautiful in more ways than just her incredible figure, and I did very much admire that, but we weren’t an item. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d been caught with a secret.

Luckily, Azalon herself came to my rescue (again) with a plaintive, almost playful whine. “Zaaaale! It’s not like that!” She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the counter. “I don’t try to hook up with every pretty girl I meet! Lyriana’s the Count of Harronfell’s daughter, she was on her way back home when her escort got ambushed! I brought her here so she could be safe and figure out what to do next.”

Azalea raised an eyebrow, not looking entirely convinced by the first part. After the explanation, however, she nodded sympathetically. “Okay, I see...I’m sorry to hear that. Were you heading back to Castle Harronfell?” she asked, to which I answered that I was. She frowned. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but last I heard, Castle Harronfell came under siege again a few days ago. It sounds bad.”

My heart sank. Azalon gave me a worried glance. I couldn’t go back home while it was under attack; for all I knew, that was why I had been ambushed. The orc hadn’t tried to kill me, after all...what if I was meant to be a captive, for leverage?

I looked up again. “That causes some problems...I can’t go back to my aunt, they might look for me there. I...I think I may need to stay here longer than expected to work things out.” Azalon and Azalea both nodded, looking at each other thoughtfully. “I can send a messenger bird to your aunt’s estate,” Azalea offered. “That way, at least someone knows what’s happened and people with more resources than us can start making plans. How does that sound?” “Perfect, thank you,” I replied with a nervous smile. “I’ll write a letter for you to send first thing in the morning.”

Azalea answered with a reassuring smile, and Azalon gently put a hand on my shoulder. “Of course. For tonight, just focus on getting some rest. I can put you up in one of the nicer rooms until you’re ready to leave. I’m going to get some food ready; I’ll bring you a plate.” I thanked her again as she stood up and glided back into the kitchen

“Don’t worry, everything will work out fine,” Azalon told me. “Zale and I will take care of you! That’s my promise. Like I told you before, she’s the best cook; her food will make you feel better.”

I certainly hoped so.

[simplyheretical]

The Firehair, Part 1

This is the first fetish story I’ve written, and am still writing for now. It is based on an alt-canon version of a tabletop RPG character of mine, Azalon, though the story is not told from her perspective.

What follows is the first 3 "chapters,” which is mostly just setup and introducing the primary two characters. It is currently 19 “chapters” long in total, but in the interest of condensing things down a bit I’ll be squeezing multiple of them into each post on this blog.

If you would rather read the whole story in one sitting, you can go to this Google doc in which I write it. You can also find it on the Burp Fetish Forums website.

What you can expect from this story:

F/F 

First-person perspective

Fantasy setting

Unrealistically Large Breasts and Ass

Belly Stuffing and Inflation

Stomach Noises

Unrealistic/Hyper Gas (Burping and Farting)

Way too much attempt at actual serious plot between the fetishy parts

The day began like any other. So I would guess, at any rate. Truthfully, I can scarcely recall what happened that morning. I remember thinking how relieving it would be to finally get off the road, to sleep in my own bed again. I know I certainly didn’t expect everything to fall apart as it did.

My name is Lyriana. My father, the lord of Harronfell county in the kingdom of Aenor, had finally called me home after an extended stay of some months with my aunt and cousins in Brynweald. He had sent me away in the first place to try and keep me safe — and his fears weren’t unfounded it seemed, as Castle Harronfell came under siege for two weeks the month after I left. That caution extended to my return trip as well, for when I left my aunt’s estate I was escorted by a band of armed soldiers: ten men in suits of hardened steel with sharp swords, and five more with keen eyes and sturdy bows, all of them astride well-trained horses. With the sixteen of us and our wagon of travel supplies it would have taken just under two weeks to make it home if we moved slowly.

We were ambushed on the third day.

It happened at dusk, as we were passing through a wooded section of road. First there was a shout from one of the archers, and then a bright light. A deafening boom shook the air before I could even turn to look, and suddenly flames engulfed the road in front of me. Three of the men at the front fell screaming from their horses while the others drew their weapons, the sound of a war horn blaring in my ear.

The attackers were upon us in seconds, and my guards were overwhelmed. Blinded as I was by the flames, I could barely make them out in the dark, but there must have been more than a dozen figures closing in from the shadows. The soldiers put up a valiant fight to be sure, as I saw at least a few of the unknown enemies fall, but it wasn’t enough.

My horse was already rearing in fright, and when the next explosion tore through the archers behind me I was thrown from the saddle. The world turned hazy when my head hit the ground. All I could hear was shouting and the clash of weapons, and all I could smell was smoke. As my senses started to clear, I saw one of my guards lying bleeding on the ground nearby. Desperate to do something, I crawled towards him. Before I could reach him, one of the attackers was standing over me: a heavyset orcish man dressed in thick hides. He held a vicious club in his hands, studded with iron spikes, and was snarling down at me like a predator about to catch its prey. I went for the blade at my hip, a smallsword I barely knew how to use. I was lucky enough to manage a stab up into his thigh before he pulled away and smacked the weapon from my hands with his club.

The orc reached down and grabbed me by the collar, dragging me to my feet until I could smell his fetid breath snorting into my face. I struggled, but couldn’t match his strength, and I knew with the sounds of battle dying down around me that no help was coming. At least, that’s what I thought.

Suddenly the orc’s face was illuminated by a light from behind me, brighter than any of the flames from the explosions moments before. I could see him as clearly as if it were the middle of the day. His eyes squinted shut against the brightness and he gave a startled yell, dropping me back to the ground. I caught myself this time and looked up just in time to see the head of a pole-hammer slamming into his chest and knocking him to the ground as a horse galloped past bearing an armored rider, carrying their pole-hammer in one hand and a brightly shining sword in the other, the source of the intense light.

One more of the ambushers was taken down by the rider’s long hammer before they dropped it abruptly to the ground and brought their horse to a stop, leaping off with their sword held in both hands. The knight fought with skill like I had never seen, swinging with speed and precision that felled a foe with every strike. Three, four, five enemies stepped up to fight and were beaten just as quickly!

I hoped to use the stranger’s distraction to get to safety, so I scrambled to my feet and looked around for my sword. As soon as I spotted it I hurried over and bent to pick it up, but was yanked away by a frighteningly familiar meaty hand. The orc who had accosted me before pulled me into his grasp, clamping his fat fingers over my mouth to keep me from screaming. Once again I struggled against him, shaking my head and thrashing my arms, but the muscular thug barely seemed to notice or care until I bit down on one of his fingers. He gave a snarl of anger and seemed to finally lose his patience. His bitten hand let go of my mouth and then slammed into the side of my head in a walloping smack. The world went hazy again, and then faded away completely.

When I woke up I was on the ground again, sitting with my back against one of the wheels of the supply wagon. I could still smell smoke, but the fires seemed to have gone out by now, and the bright glow of the stranger’s sword was gone. When I looked up, I saw the rider from before standing amongst the chaos and looking around, their sword sheathed and their pole-hammer resting on their shoulder. They seemed to be searching for survivors, but hadn’t found any. They turned around as I sat up and tried to move, peering at me through their closed helmet.

“You’re awake!” I heard a lightly muffled, feminine voice say from behind the visor. She rushed over towards me, holding out a leather-gloved hand to stop me. “You shouldn’t move, miss; you were hit in the head pretty hard.”

I was still dizzy, and the throbbing ache in my temple told me she was right. I sat back against the wheel as she knelt down in front of me. Up so close, I realized at last how tall she seemed, and could finally get a good look at her armor. It was lighter than what my guards had been wearing, but also of obviously higher quality: a finely made two-piece breastplate and pauldrons over a chain-mail hauberk, padded underneath by a thick gambeson. A dark blue cloak was draped around her shoulders, trailing on the grass as she knelt. From what I could see, she wore no coat of arms or the colors of any noble family.

“Can you tell me what happened, miss?” she asked, sounding concerned.

I reached up to clutch at my pounding head and looked past her at the aftermath of the ambush. “We were attacked,” I answered, shaking a bit where I sat. “I don’t know who they were or why, but there were explosions and fire...”

She placed a hand on my shoulder to comfort me. “We shouldn’t stay here in case more come,” she said softly, taking my hand and helping me to my feet. “And you should rest. I’ll find a place to make camp and we can talk more in the morning.”

With her help I climbed onto the wagon. She mounted her horse and took the reins of the horses pulling the wagon, leading them off of the road. I sat back as we moved into the cover of the trees, dozing off despite the bumping of the wheels. I didn’t know if I could trust this stranger, but I didn’t have much other choice. So I let sleep take me, hoping to learn more in the morning.

I woke with a start, jolting upright after a dream I no longer remember. The pain in my head put me right back down though, and when I reached up with my hand I could feel that a bump had formed. I winced and looked around, taking in the sunlight through the leaves overhead. Birds were singing as if nothing wrong had happened the night before, and the smell of morning dew graced my nostrils — morning dew and horse, really, but I was counting my blessings.

I realized I was still in the wagon, where I must have fallen asleep on one of the softer bundles of supplies. A blanket from one of the spare bedrolls was draped over me and now rumpled in my lap from my startled jump. I also realized that I wasn’t dead, or tied up, or naked, or otherwise taken advantage of so far as I could tell, and I hadn’t pulled out the blanket myself. Perhaps I didn’t need to worry about the stranger, I thought, though I saw no sign of her as I sat up again.

Ouch, I muttered, my hand clasping gingerly at my neck. Sleeping in the wagon had left me painfully stiff, and as I moved again I looked down at myself and started to notice how sweaty and uncomfortable I’d become after the day’s travel and the stress of the ambush. There was quite an unpleasant dampness under my arms, breasts, down my back...not to mention a few even less comfortable places. I thanked the gods we had saved the wagon so I’d have a change of clothes, and prayed that there might be a pond or stream nearby I could wash myself in.

I climbed out of the wagon slowly, wincing over my aches and pains, and looked around again. There was a campfire a few yards away barely burning, and not far from that were a bedroll, a travel pack, and a carefully laid out set of armor I recognized as belonging to my savior from last night. Sure enough, her horse — a handsome dappled blue roan — was tied to a tree just a short distance away, eating from a feeding bag, flicking its tail, and ignoring me.

Looking over her discarded armor, I found myself curious what she looked like. I could finally put a face to my rescuer — whenever she came back, anyway. It was then that the thought occurred to me to look at myself first to see what state the night’s horrors had left me in and assess the damage. I hoped that bump wasn’t too unsightly. Fishing through the wagon, I found the bundle of my own belongings and fetched out a silver-plated hand mirror my aunt had given me as a gift during my stay with her.

My own crystal-blue eyes staring back at me, I frowned critically at my reflection and turned my head, tracing my fingers around the bump at my temple. It didn’t look too heinous a blemish, I decided; there was a slight bruised discoloration to it compared to the paler peach skin around it, but thankfully it was hidden mostly by my hair. I huffed in mild irritation at my hair. As I rotated the mirror with my wrist I saw that my hair, which I preferred to keep neatly in a braided bun, was currently a mess of stray chestnut-brown locks sticking out every which-way. Not only that, but there was dirt on my face, and as I tilted the mirror down I saw that the dampness I’d noticed earlier was beginning to show very unflatteringly in the form of sweat stains darkening the red brocade of my cotehardie.

I held the mirror out at arm’s length to my side, angled it towards my back, and started to turn my head to look. The stiff pain in my neck put a stop to that quite quickly; I rubbed at it tenderly.

“What are you doing?” I heard a cheerfully inquisitive and half-giggling voice behind me ask suddenly. A gasp jumped from my throat and I jumped, too, startled almost to the point of dropping the mirror. My free hand flew up to my chest and pressed against it almost as if in the hopes of physically hold my heart in place and settle it down.

“Ack! Oh my goodness, did I startle you? I’m so sorry!” the bubbly, girlish voice spoke again, seeming sincere in its apology. My heart still pounding, I turned around to look at the stranger who’d snuck up on me. If anything, what I saw only alarmed me even more.

Everything about her was big. No, I take that back. Everything about her was huge!

In fact, the very first thing I noticed when I turned was that I had almost slammed my face directly into the humongous shelf of her breasts! They must have been twice as large as her head each, stuffed into an old, slightly ragged sky-blue tunic that looked as though it might have fit her some years ago but now found itself dangerously tight. I had to stagger backwards to avoid them, which only made me look even more awkward, I’m sure.

This on its own was impressive, but when I say everything I do mean practically everything. I didn’t consider myself a very short woman at just under five and a half feet, but I only came up to her bust, making her around a full foot taller than me, at least! She was broad-shouldered with an hourglass-shaped build — not because of the thinness of her waist (though I would scarcely have called her fat), but because of the sheer width of her hips and the incredible size of her  backside! Those spacious hips led down into long, shapely legs with meaty, powerful thighs, over which she wore a pair of dark grey, almost black pants that fit quite a bit better than her poor, overworked top.

Looking up, I saw her gazing back down at me with confusion in her big, bright, flame-colored eyes like burning amber, and her plump, full lips were twisted into a light frown of concern. Her face was soft and smooth without a single blemish, with an ever-so-slightly wide button nose between rosy, prominent, apple-shaped cheeks. Framing all of this was a slim, well-defined jawline and daintily tucked-back ears. To top it all off, her hair was a massive mane of burning amber matching the fiery color of her eyes, especially in the morning sunlight, and cascaded down her shoulders in shimmering waves all the way until it brushed at the top of her toned rear.

To put it simply, she was far and away the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen...intimidatingly so, even. It was enough to make me feel inadequate — I remember wondering if she was even human — but mostly I was impressed. It must have shown, too. I stood staring in silence, maybe even blushing a bit, for a few long seconds before she spoke again, tilting her head a little. “Um...miss? Are you alright?”

It wasn’t until she called me “miss” that my addled brain put two and two together and I realized that this huge, amazonian woman was the very person who had rescued me last night! She was even wearing that same dusky blue cloak around her shoulders, although it was swept to one side over her arm at the moment.

I stammered my way into a response, trying weakly to cover my embarrassment from more or less ogling the woman right in front of her. “I-I, uhm...yes, I’m fine,” I said, starting to pull myself together. “I was just trying to see if I was...hurt anywhere else.”

The tall woman’s expression lightened, and she seemed to accept the answer readily. Her lips curled into a bubbly smile and she giggled softly, “Oh, that makes sense! It looked like you were trying to look at your butt!”

It was a lighthearted, almost childish remark, but I felt my cheeks burning red with more embarrassment. I suddenly realized how silly that must have looked, how vain she must have thought I was! Maybe she would have been right, as well, considering the fussing I’d done over the dirt and messy hair.

Before my mind could take me further into my self-criticism, the woman turned and moved over towards the campfire, where she picked up a crossbow from amongst her things along with a handful of bolts that she tucked under her belt next to an exotic looking knife that was sheathed there.

“I’m going to hunt for some breakfast,” she said, winching back the crossbow’s string. “If you’d like to wash yourself or your clothes, there’s a stream about fifty paces northeast. Just keep an eye out and try not to get lost, okay?” A helpful finger pointed in the direction of the stream, and she smiled at me warmly. “Don’t be afraid to call out if you need help.”

She then gestured behind me. “And you should probably take that along, just in case.” I turned and saw she was referring to my smallsword, resting on the wagon in its scabbard. I picked it up as she suggested, and she nodded. “I should be back within an hour or two, and then we can eat!”

With that she turned and walked off into the woods. Her hips had a natural sway to them as she moved, and her behind bounced up and down, up and down, alternating one side to the other. I didn’t even register that I was watching until her cloak fell into place behind her and hid her buttocks from view. Snapping out of the momentary trance, I scolded myself under my breath, gathered some fresh clothes and some soap from the wagon, and started off to the northeast as she had indicated. Hopefully a splash of water on my face and some clean garments would free me of the awkward funk I seemed to be in.

After a long and thorough wash of both myself and clothes (as much as I could), I dried myself with a cloth and got dressed in some long green breeches, a white linen shirt, and a blue doublet over-top. I wore the same boots as before and belted my smallsword back onto my hip. The woman was still gone when I returned to the camp, so I laid out my wet clothes over a branch to dry and worked on braiding my hair with some help from my hand mirror.

When she finally returned to camp, the red-haired stranger came bearing a surprising amount of game. Four whole rabbits she brought, which she  appeared to have already skinned and prepared for cooking. It seemed quite a lot of food for two people, but I didn’t mention it. We worked together gathering wood for the fire for a few minutes before setting up a spit to cook the gathered meat, which she had sprinkled with salt, herbs, and spices from jars she kept in her bags. I sat down on one side as she knelt down by the assembled logs, reaching in towards the kindling with her empty hand. Curiously, I watched and saw a glow envelope her palm, followed by tongues of flame rising and swirling as if from her flesh itself. Not only was she a skilled and well-equipped fighter, but she knew magic as well?

The kindling took the flame at once and she smiled, the fires from her palm growing as she held them there, coaxing the wood to start burning as well. She seemed completely unperturbed by the fire from the kindling licking at her hand. Then the glow vanished and she rubbed her hands together eagerly and sat down.

I looked on at her in ever more curiosity. Finally, I asked what I should have earlier that morning: “Who are you?”

The woman looked up from the fire to me, seeming surprised and a little confused at first. Then her eyes widened, her eyebrows arched upwards, and she gasped. “Oh! I never introduced myself!” she realized. “I’m sorry, I must’ve gotten carried away!”

Standing up at once with a chipper smile (and reminding me how very large and tall she was), she bent forward into a bow and her large breasts hung down pendulously in her undersized tunic, giving me a view right into her deep cleavage that I’m still not entirely sure she was conscious of. I imagined for a moment I could hear the fabric crying out in distress.

“My name is Azalon Deguellios, or ‘the Firehair,’ as you might hear some people call me,” she said, her voice jogging my attention back away from her distractingly exaggerated figure. Watching her bright red-orange locks hanging down from her head and blowing in the soft breeze, I could certainly see where the Firehair moniker came from. “At your service, milady! Er...” she stopped and straightened herself, scrunching her brow and looking up to me again. “You are a Lady, right? Noble, I mean? I saw that the men with you wore the Harronfell colors...”

I held back an amused snicker at her confusion and nodded. “I am Lady Lyriana Rochaire-Castor, Daughter of Count Renauld Castor of Harronfell and Dame Marjolaine Rochaire. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and you have my gratitude for rescuing me as you did.”

“Dame Rochaire?” Azalon repeated with surprise, and her eyes lit up. “Oh, my goodness, I had no idea! She was one of my idols growing up! What was she like, if you don’t mind me asking?” I felt my lips turn downwards at the question. I wasn’t upset, per se, as my mother had passed many years ago. Rather, I wasn’t sure how to answer. “I...don’t really know,” I said, clasping my hands over my crossed legs. “I was very young when she was killed, and never really got to know her. Everyone I ever asked said the usual things...’she was kind and caring, a very strong woman, she loved you very much.’”

Azalon’s seemingly eternal smile turned from excited to sad. She nodded, reaching forward to turn the spit as the meat began to cook. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said empathetically. “I never knew my mother either. My papa always told me the same things, too.”

There was a moment of quiet, mutual awkwardness. Then, changing the subject, Azalon gestured to me. “So, milady...actually, what should I call you? Lady Castor? Lady Rochaire?”

I winced at the latter suggestion and shook my head. “No no, ‘milady’ is fine,” I insisted, “Or just ‘Lyriana.’ I’d rather not be compared to my mother, those are shoes I’m not sure I can fill.”

Azalon’s smile brightened again at being given permission to call me by my name. “Lyriana it is! So, Lyriana,” she began, her tone turning more gently inquisitive. “I’m sorry for what happened to you last night, and that I didn’t arrive sooner. Where were you and your escort heading?”

“Back to Castle Harronfell,” I answered. “I had been staying in Brynweald with my aunt.”

She paused, seeming to think. “Hmm...that’s a good distance away. You’d have the whole rest of Brynweald to cover before you were halfway...” Looking up at me, an idea seemed to form in her head, and she sat up. “Why don’t I escort you there?”

I raised my eyebrows. “What? Such a ways? It would be a week and a half! You’ve already rescued me from gods-know-what fate last night, I couldn’t ask you to do that!”

Azalon conceded. “Well, at least let me bring you back to civilization,” she suggested. “It wouldn’t be right to leave a pretty young Lady out in the woods by herself!”

I blinked. Had she just called me pretty? Before I could comment, she continued on, “My hometown is Springhaven, only about a day’s ride from here. I’ll take you there and you can get your bearings and decide how to go on from there.”

“I’d be very grateful for that,” I said, agreeing to her offer with a faint smile. “Thank you, miss...Deguellios, was it?”

“Just call me Azalon,” she said with a grin. “And it would be my pleasure! We can start heading there after we eat.”

My smile broadened. “Azalon it is.”

We chatted a few minutes longer, passing the time as the meat on the spit cooked through. Every so often she would lean forward and turn the spit, and I started to notice how temptingly appetizing the game was beginning to smell with the spices she had rubbed over each piece. I wondered again why she had brought so much; they were good-sized rabbits, each a suitable meal for as many as four people — together, they could have fed me and all of my escort! She was eyeing the food hungrily though, as if she hadn’t eaten in days; I decided again not to comment.

It was then that I heard a long, low, but very loud and groaning gastric grumble that at first I took for some beast in the woods. It wasn’t until I looked over and saw Azalon clutching her abdomen that I realized it was her empty stomach! Gods, I thought, what if she really hasn’t eaten in days? If that were the case, I certainly couldn’t blame her for her eyes being bigger than her stomach. She didn’t seem to notice, though, and I politely avoided mentioning it.

When we finally took the spit off the fire, I fetched some light wine from the wagon, filling up two cups and passing one to Azalon. She thanked me with another of her bright, happy smiles, and then looked down at the meat as she slid one of the rabbits off of the spit. “So Lyriana...are you a big eater?”

Assuming that she was beginning to realize just how much food she had cooked, I gave her a sympathetic smile and shook my head. “Not terribly, I’m afraid,” I said, “But it all smells quite nice, so I’ll try to make it through as much as I can to cut down on waste.”

“Hahaha!” she laughed as if I’d made a joke, passing the first rabbit across to me and sliding off one for herself. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that!”

My sympathetic smile turned to a perplexed one as I started to wonder again. Did she really think she could eat all of that? “If you say so...” I muttered uncertainly, and tucked into the food I’d been given.

“Mm!” I hummed with delight. The flavor was immediately succulent and wonderfully savory, and the herbs she had used blended deliciously. I picked out rosemary and thyme as I worked my way through a haunch, and there must have been others as well that I didn’t recognize. Wiping my mouth on a spare cloth, I swallowed and washed the meat down with a sip of wine. “Mh, it’s delicious! You’re quite the cook, Azalon, I must say. I haven’t had fresh game this good on the road.”

When I looked up, I was alarmed to see that she had already picked the bones clean of almost an entire rabbit! She ate fast, finishing off the last of the meat with famished eagerness before tossing the bones aside. Wiping her mouth as well with a cloth of her own, she smiled over at me with a happy glint in her eyes. “Thank you! This is why I always bring jars of spices with me when I travel.” To my shock, she reached over to the spit and slid off another rabbit, holding it in one hand and taking a gulp of wine. “Ah...you should try my sister’s cooking when we get to Springhaven. She’s the best!”

I simply nodded, and Azalon tore into her second rabbit with as much gusto as the first. She tore off haunches one by one, stripping the larger back legs with large, mouth-filling bites that she chewed for only a couple of seconds each. The smaller front legs were stuffed entirely into her mouth one at a time, she bit down, and they slid out again clean. She hungrily ate and ate, and within just another minute and a half she had finished the entire rabbit, its bones cast aside with the other’s. She raised her cup and took another mouthful of wine, swallowing it with a happy gulp.

“BruUhpp~!” A hearty belch rumbled from her throat, short but strong. She let it hang in the air for a moment before seeming to remember her manners. “‘Scuse me!” she giggled lightly as she stood up, finishing the rest of her cup of wine. I thought she might be finished, until she took her cup over to the wagon to refill it and then sat down again.

She looked over at me and the rabbit still in my hands with only a single leg eaten. “Are you finished already?” I blinked a few times, realizing that I’d just watched her eat an entire rabbit without even touching my own. I felt suddenly self-conscious, wondering how she might judge me. She might think I was lying about her cooking, that I really thought it was disgusting!

I shook my head, not wanting her to come to such a conclusion. “No, I’m just...letting it cool down a bit,” I said, making an excuse. To prove I was hungry — even though I wasn’t, and could have comfortably stopped after the one haunch — I carried on eating and started on the second back leg.

Azalon seemed to accept my answer readily and slid off a third rabbit for herself. How could she still be hungry, I wondered as she started gleefully chowing down? Where was all that meat going? She was a large woman to be sure and with plenty of curves to spare, but not of the kind that would suggest eating habits like this! It was almost mesmerizing, watching her tear through the food so quickly and yet so casually.

Halfway through my second haunch I started to feel full, but the more I watched Azalon effortlessly devouring her share, the more pressured I felt to keep going. I didn’t want to disappoint her; she had saved my life, after all. In retrospect it was foolish and silly and she would probably not have been offended in the least, but in the moment it seemed very possible. I finished the haunch and gave a quiet breath. I could feel the pressure in my gut advising me against eating any more, and this time it was my turn to burp. I pressed my closed fist to my lips and did so with my mouth closed, muffling the sound as I could. I felt myself blushing slightly as I excused myself.

Azalon had already moved on to her fourth rabbit, the last one from the spit, but she gave me a knowing look that suggested she could tell I was trying to save face. “Are you sure you want to keep eating?” she asked gently and with sincere concern. “You seem pretty full. I’ll finish that if you like!”

I winced, ashamed at being caught. After a second, however, a managed a smile and nodded, “Please do.” I passed the rabbit over to her, and she gladly took it. “I don’t know how you can put away so much.”

She just laughed and grinned at me, unabashed. “No idea myself, but I do love food, so I’m not complaining!” The remaining half of my rabbit as well as the entirety of her fourth both disappeared down her gullet along with another cup of wine over the next couple of minutes while I just sat transfixed and watched, gingerly holding my hands over my plaintively gurgling stomach.

Afterwards, she leaned back against the tree behind her with a contented sigh and patted her stomach lightly with the fingers of both hands, punctuating her feast with another loud belch that came rolling out of her esophagus like a snowball of satisfaction. Where the last one was short and succinct, this one told a story. It began high and airy and then tumbled down, growing in depth and weight for a few seconds straight, maybe three or four, before it ended as a low baritone rumble.

BheeeeaAaAaAaAaUuUUUUURRRRPPP~!

I felt the hot air buffet my face from what must have been six feet away, carrying the sweet scent of the wine mixed with the savory herbs of all five and a half rabbits like a luxurious reminder of a lovely meal past. It was the type of burp I would have expected from a man, and a fat, piggish slob of one as well, and yet from her it just seemed...impressive.

I sat in stunned silence for a moment, not only because that sound had come from the lips of such a flawlessly lovely face, but because I wasn’t disgusted or appalled, even though I felt as though I should be. Or perhaps I just wanted to be? She’d just stuffed herself with enough game to make a bear sick, while I’d barely gotten down half of one rabbit and probably wouldn’t be able to eat for the rest of the day! She chuckled softly and uttered another tardy “Excuse me” and smiled. What she said next made my jaw drop.

“That was excellent for a light breakfast snack! Should hold me over for a couple hours, at least until lunch.”

I felt as though I could have fainted there and then.

[simplyheretical]

Welcome and Be Warned

May (and will) contain potentially graphic material of or relating to sexual fetishes ranging from weird to nasty to...simply heretical.