Another commission for @dragonitemaniac this time featuring Dia-mant, Bo-uchero-n, and Mau-vier alongside his OC Ben, turning into some sumos after being summoned to As-kr. Had a lot of fun writing this cause I forgot how good like writing mind alteration is and I need to do more now ajsbjbjs
Also featuring some other kinks (flattening) at the end after the last line break
“Ahhh,” Boucheron sighs. Stretching his well-developed arms, he raises both of them above his head, two defined biceps framing his as he simultaneously cracks his back. “That was a good training, wasn't it? And we're even back in pretty good time,”
“I must admit, finally having a fourth member from our world makes a tremendous difference,” With the once tumultuous Tempest behind the group of four, Diamant happily gives Boucheron a pat on his back —both figuratively and literally. Not that Boucheron stumbles from the force.
The usual dark gray clouds that seem ready to rain down lighting upon any that approach it now resemble the usual dim yet cheerful pale clouds after a storm. And with their work done calming the monthly Tempest Trial, the four men begin to head out.
“Yeah, you did great Boucheron. Especially for your first time on the field. Took you long enough to make it to Askr,” Ben high fives him, the two bulkiest of the group loudly clapping hands.
Mauvier chimes in, hand on his chin. “Yes, but it must seem rather distasteful to those of other worlds that our team is solely made up of our own,”
“Yes, but for something as long as the Tempest Trials, it is best that we fight with comrades we already know,” Diamant responds.
“Besides, it's just the four of us from our world here in Askr. I think we have some leeway in our team. We only just got Boucheron here after how long? And after how many new heroes from Fodlan?” Ben rubs his wrist, right where he once used to wear his bracelet back in Elyos, back when he was most often the one wearing the strange bracelets. Not that the emblem residing in said bracelet was strange. Anything but, the Bracelet of the Samurai gifting Ben a well enjoyed companion. And now one of numerous companions missing in Askr, the Emblems also unsummoned like the rest of the army.
Boucheron simply shrugs his shoulders with a small chuckle from Ben’s rhetorical questions.
“These sacred seals did seem to ease the burden of the Tempest,” Mauvier comments upon noticing Ben’s fixation on his wrist. Holding up his hand, Mauvier examines the thin, yet expertly crafted ring gifted to him by the Summoner, Mauvier’s fashioned like Diamant and Boucheron’s own.
Boucheron begins to examine his own ring. “They didn’t do much though. At least, they sure didn’t feel like it,”
None of the men bother turning their backs as the serene clouds dwelling above the Tempest begin to loom behind them. White clouds turn into their once gray hue. The clouds swell in size, potent magic swirling through them.
“Perhaps. But I do sense magic dwelling within these,” Mauvier replies. “The Summoner gave you these as our assigned leader. What did they tell you about them?” Resting his hand back at his side, Mauvier —as well as the others— fail to notice the smallest hint of a glow to their sacred seals. Or the way the full, large clouds slowly drift away to leave a clearing in the center as they make a ring.
About to immediately respond, Diamant closes his mouth, eyes wide for a few seconds. “Hmmm… They said nothing much. Only that these will help us feel better in the future. At least I think so. I didn’t think too much of it at the time but how odd…” Diamant’s eyes glance at the ground, as if expecting some divine jolt of memory to remind him of something else the Summoner said.
“Well- huh?” Ben is promptly silenced with the bright addition of a portal behind them all. His biceps shielding his eyes, he slowly lowers his brawny arm to gaze at the sudden intrusion with wide eyes.
As do the other three, all of the men completely silent.
The portal much larger than all others the group has seen —especially in sheer width alone— the usual bright sky blue coloration takes on a darker cobalt tinge. The flowing bundles of magic crackle through the portal as it struggles to maintain its shape. The unstable portal calls for all the magic in the area. Magic that continues to be flowed into the portal by the clouds hanging above it. And the sacred seals as well.
Perhaps too late —no, clearly too late— Mauvier finally notices the trail of magic. “The seals! Take them off, now!” He commands. Not that he can do anything to remove it; his fingers tug at the jewelry that now refuses to budge an inch. Unlike his body that begins to slowly get dragged towards the portal.
“I got you Diamant!” Ben holds onto their leader with both hands. Feet digging into the ground, the cruel brick refuses to give him much hold. Ben’s entire body tensing. He holds on strong. Even as Boucheron and Mauvier end up swallowed into the tempest. And the two of them follow not long after, Ben’s own strength unable to do much against the raging tempest of magic.
“Hey! Wake up already. Man… waking up Diamant was way easier than you. You’re practically a log,” Boucheron slowly shakes Ben.
The Tempest calms down soon after, the portal disappearing shortly after.
Boucheron the first to get dragged into the portal, the axe fighter is the lone conscious man in the clearing. Both Ben and Muavier lay on the floor. The trio are thankfully safe for the meanwhile. Though so far, the group has little to worry about when it comes to animals, none heard through their guttural growls or the rustling of leaves from those hidden. The secure yet sizable clearing provides enough secrecy for them with the numerous trees blocking all but one pre-built, worn out path. A path that Diamant already went down to scout ahead for people.
“Maybe this’ll help…” Boucheron whispers to himself, slowly straddling him before placing his hands on Ben’s pecs, Ben’s chest an appreciable size larger than Boucheron’s own. Boucheron does get a good view at least, the plunging neckline of Ben’s wolf knight attire leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination when it comes to his abs and pecs. “Wake up! This is serious, man,” He squeezes Ben’s tits, fingers groping and massaging his rack while shaking him up and down.
To which Ben does respond to. First with a soft moan, and a certain pressure placed on Boucheron’s ass for a brief second before he immediately pushes himself off of Ben. And secondly, by actually waking up. Ben’s eyes slowly flutter open. The warm rays of sunshine greet him as he wakes up as well as the tree line above him, the sight clearly different from the tower housing the Tempest.
“Where are we!?” Ben jumps up, standing on his own two feet as he draws his knives. Except his hands meet nothing but the leather fabric of his belts.
“We don’t have weapons. The portal must’ve taken them away,” Boucheron sighs. “Now help me wake Mauvier up,”
The older man groans, as if hearing Boucheron’s words —or knowing what awaited him if he didn’t wake up promptly. Mauvier stands up slowly. One hand resting on his forehead, he simply scans the area around them. “I take it our best bet to find Diamant would be to take the path then?”
“Wait, where’s Diam-”
Boucheron places a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Relax, you two. Jeez, you guys just woke up. Diamant went scouting ahead while I woke up you two logs. It’d be no good if I went on my own, right?” Besides, everything seems pretty pleasant here so far. So why don’t we just- Finally you’re back!” Boucheron waves over Diamant.
“Everything looks peaceful here,” Diamant plainly states. “We should head down the path now that everyone is awake,” He motions for everyone to follow with his hand as he heads back down once more.
The four of them walk in silence. The only sound accompanying them is the occasional bit of gravel being kicked around beneath their boots. The rest of the environment is under a still hush; not a single bird or beast makes themselves known. Their walk goes on for quite some time. One step followed by another, they simply walk down the single path laid out in front of them.
“So…” Boucheron is the first to break the silence, speaking up after the group walks around yet another curve of the path that must be coming down from some sort of hill. “Did you manage to find a way out of here? This place doesn’t look too bad, or even dangerous at all, but this is still weird,”
“I might have found a way out,” Diamant walks down another short curved bend, the path still not diverging once as it follows the landscape of all the greenery.
“Might? You didn’t confirm this supposed exit?” Mauvier’s brow curves upward.
“There must be something dangerous there then. We should be able to take it on together. But we don’t have weapons,” Ben continues to search through his multiple belts once more. And even his pockets, but he ends up empty handed just the same.
“No. Nothing like that. It’s just, it is a rather strange sight. Though nothing to be worried about, I believe,” Diamant sighs. “You three will understand once we get closer,”
And the three of them listen and follow him. They keep on with their uneventful trek down the path. They only begin to pause their trek upon hearing a couple grunts and loud movement, the noises distinctly masculine. A break that Diamant quickly has them continuing on from with a brief glance. The noise gets louder as they begin to reach further down the path, the path widening out finally as well as offering different paths. To which Diamant simply keeps leading them. Closer and closer to the loudening cacophony of noise, a couple of conversations now made out between the noise. The group walks down the wider road in silence for a couple of minutes. They only begin to talk upon finally reaching the first point of interest ever since being suddenly warped.
“Those are some… rather big men,” Mauvier stays silent afterwards. His eyes simply take in the scene in front of him as they shift their focus to and fro between the myriad of husky sumos in the near distance.
Though big seems too inadequate of a size for the rotund men, Mauvier’s words a disservice to the large, hefty men in front of him. Especially with them all naked save for their mawashis, so much strong yet flabby skin exposed. All a variety of sizes, even the smallest of the sumos make the group of four built men look rather average sized, their bulging, pudgy bellies jiggling as they move all their girth, their well-trained muscles —the strong, muscley arms and legs clearly not just for show— seem just as broad as the team of four’s own built selves. Meanwhile, the largest of the sumos that they can see make them look downright puny in comparison. Despite all their monumental girth —the sumos larger than any man any of them have ever seen in Elyos— they manage to maneuver all their tremendous bulk. Their bloated figures are far more blubberry than the average person; each tree trunk wide thigh is coated in a generous portion of lard which hides the almost as generous musculature underneath it all. The same is true for their beefy arms that they move around with a semblance of ease despite all the lard in the way.
Which they need to do as they fight, a large chunk of men in some sort of competitive match, others watching while even more gorge themselves or train away.
Ben stays silent as he watches them. Unlike the other three who continue to gawk and stare at the scene in front of them, Ben takes furtive glances at the hefty hunks of men before him. A good deal of his focus is placed on adjusting his tightening pants. And not thinking too intently about the men's sizes: the amount of food they shovel into their mouth, the way they flaunt and show off their size, the easy excuse to grab and gripe other equally large men, and the way they all seem eager to grow still. All of it is too tantalizing and alluring for Ben. Plus, the idea that pops into his mind as he glances at Diamant, Boucheron, and Mauvier, his imagination getting the best of his as he adjusts his now far too snug pants.
Boucheron's eyes finally widen after squinting for so long at the spectacle. “I think I've read this before. All those men have to be sumos. Kagetsu even talked about it to me before. Something about it being somewhat common where he comes from,”
“We can't possibly be in Solm. I doubt even the Pale Sands would be filled with such vegetation,” Mauvier’s eyes squint as he takes a closer look at the sumos.
“Mauvier's right. Besides, if we were in Solm, there wouldn't be a portal for us to get back to begin with. As long as we head to that building and take the portal inside, we'll be fine. I've already spoken to some of the men. This is just a vacation spot from the way they make it sound,”
“So, they're from the Order, then. Perhaps this is what the Summoner meant by that cryptic message.” Mauvier mentions. His mind is already made up as he spots those from other worlds.
“Even better then. I've always wanted to try some sumo with the way Kagetsu talked about it. Though even I might be a bit too weak for some of these men,” Boucheron gently elbows Diamant’s arm, chuckling to himself.
“Perhaps, but we should still-”
“Let's go into the building!” Ben joins the conversation, interjecting Diamant as he stands up. “I saw an emblem and he went right into that building,” Ben points right where the other three were once staring at, the door now open as a broad, massive man slowly lumbers his way through the doorway. His flowing mane of brown hair swishes behind him as he struggles to maneuver his legs with his gut draping down to his knees. Despite the distance —and how much of the width the man's ass takes up of the doorway, so much fabric clearly needed for his mawashi— the azure blue light manages to peek through the door.
“I agree. Let's be sure of our way back before we see more about this place,” Diamant starts walking once again, leading his teammates closer to the practicing sumos and more importantly, where the portal back to Askr should be. He also keeps quiet on the way Ben's attention has been fixated less on the portal and more on the supposed emblem waddling inside.
As the group make their way closer, their concerns are immediately dispelled upon the first person who spots them; well, two, Askr and Eikþyrnir stop their match with each other to greet the quartet of newcomers. The two of them come lumbering over, both enormously engorged men wobbling as they slowly waddle their fat asses.
“You're back! And you brought your friends,” Askr greets them all. His focus is mostly on Diamant as he slowly raises a flabby yet beefy arm at them. Far more tits than ass, Askr’s upper body is heavily caked in lard. Though his chest has scant amount of definition to it, the slight lack of sag despite his plump chest giving away his hidden musculature. His hefty swaying gut sags past his crotch, the flabby ball of lard for a stomach obscuring a good portion of his mawashi. His bulging love handles help cover another good portion of it. His lower half still filled out as well, his mawashi fits him well; only a small amount of the uppermost bits of flab from his thighs squish against it.
“Portal's that way if you want to head back. Though I'd say you all should train here instead,” Eikbyrnir points towards the building with a big, meaty arm. Unlike the mostly butterball that is Askr, Eikþyrnir's figure shows off more of his dedication to the craft of working out. Especially in his legs. His legs well worked out, his bottom heavy figure moves around with complete ease despite the large gut Eikþyrnir sports along with the flab swathed over his body. His legs still jiggle as he continues to stretch during the silence, already getting ready for his next match. Same for his broad, flabby biceps that flex with each arm stretch, the meaty biceps covered in a smaller yet still sizable coating of lard.
“Well, I guess we should enjoy ourselves and train first then,” Boucheron eyes Eikþyrnir. Most prominently his arms and legs.
“Or help yourselves to the food instead if you'd prefer. Everything you need will be in the building,” Askr adds, a satisfied couple of pats to his gut.
Ben tries his best not to stare. Not that he can help it; his eyes simply wander back and forth from both Askr and Eikþyrnir. He appraises both massive figures. “We could do both,,,” He trails off, grateful for the other three men to be talking amongst themselves. Though Askr and Eikþyrnir smile at him.
“We can all decide together after we find the portal. At the very least, we now know we can leave whenever we want,” Mauvier starts heading back to the building without another word.
“Let's go, you two,” Diamant follows right behind Mauvier. And Boucheron and Ben follow them as well.
“It's been some time since we had newcomers,” Askr opens up a portal once the four’s attention is not on him. He plops pieces of sugary, buttery bread into his mouth.
Eikþyrnir crouches —his body tenses as all his bulk presses up against itself— getting ready as he looks up at Askr. “They'll make fine additions, now get ready,”
The two resume their sumo wrestling as the newcomers continue on their way.
“There are a lot of men here,” Ben points out as they almost reach the building.
He specifically points out one of the larger men he's seen, Raphael gorging on food along with Lukas. Raphael certainly larger than Lukas, the once absurdly beefy man clearly has been affected by the amount of food provided. Not as large as Eikþyrnir, Raphael is one degree removed in size. Especially in musculature with Raphael much more blubbery. And Lukas more petite than Raphael, Lukas’ body has an even higher proportion of flab compared to him. His body is much flabbier, his girth wobbling as he stuffs more and more food into his mouth. Though the two men are still small next to the absolute lard asses that are Stahl and Sylvain. Both cavaliers absolutely enjoy their food. Stahl much more as he shovels another piece of butter cake into his mouth, another followed shortly after before he can properly finish chewing that one. Rather bottom heavy, Stahl’s mawashi is tight on him, his figure clearly not taking advantage of the training areas provided. Sylvain much the same, his lazy self has somewhat more muscle than Stahl but not by much. He does weigh less than him at least, Sylvain More top heavy with his large breasts and dough, flabby arms with only a scant amount of muscle underneath it all
Despite not being far from the new quartet, neither of them make any motion to greet the other two. Nor do they even say much to the other besides a few grunts and words.
“Yeah. And they sure are enjoying themselves,” Boucheron watches the closest sumo match, his steps guided by Diamant in front of him.
Saber and Gregor currently wrestling with one another, the two mercenaries no longer resemble the once lean yet built figures they once had. Certainly not as large as most of the other men, both of them have a fine addition of pudge on their bodies, abs replaced by a belly and pecs washed away by flab to turn into puffy yet defined breasts. Their defined legs from traveling and fighting still hold their strength, their legs now simply much broader from their added girth much like their arms. Flab squished against flab, the two refuse to budge against the other. Meanwhile, nearby, Niles watches the two men, not really cheering on either of them. Instead, he watches them in silence. Niles grins at the spectacle in front of him. His figure is also well received by the new environment, his body much more plump than his once svelte body, his belly pooling into his lap while he sits down and enjoys a hefty meal with his show.
Diamant and Mauvier keep quiet. They simply observe in silence at the scenes in front of them, the two of them unconcerned but still confused. The men training at least feel more normal to them, the sight common to Diamant from Brodia’s culture and Mauvier from his own training.
Both Deen and Python training, the two men give opposite ends of effort into it. Python focuses on simple stretches, his more simply pudgy figure enjoying the more nimble and lithe motions followed by the ease of squats and pushups. Not that he puts much effort into those as well, his pudgy body clearly struggling despite his smaller size. Deen enjoys working with the heavy weights provided on the other hand, his biceps lifting the hefty weights with ease. His body is the complete opposite of his former figure. Deen is absolutely massive, his gut getting in the way as he lifts weights. Same as his large breasts do, his broad, bulky biceps squishing against them. And Deen’s efforts are only furthered as Raphael joins him, Deen moving onto bigger and heavier weights so as to not be outdone. Python simply groans as Lukas joins him, Lukas outdoing him as well as mildly lecturing him.
But despite the scenes before the quartet, none of the sumos even bother them, all of them and many more too eagerly absorbed in their training and eating. Which the group is thankful for as they finally reach the building without another disturbance, Askr and Eikþyrnir kind enough to tell them the way out. None of them say anything at the foot of the building, the massive building looming in front of them. Most obviously, the building is incredibly wide, far wider than anything they've ever seen in Elyos or even Askr for that matter.
Diamant simply opens the door, the massive door opening with a simple touch, the door wide enough for all four men to walk beside one another and leave ample extra space. The door promptly closes behind them once they all enter. But more importantly to all of them, the portal back to Askr is right in front of them.
Well, behind a barrier, the translucent sheen of magic fizzling as it protects it.
“What is this!?” Diamant slams his fist against the barrier. “They tricked us!”
“Hmmm, why don't we try the sides of the building? Maybe they'll remove the barrier,” Ben comments. Though his mind is focused on scanning the massive room, his reason for entering not found.
True to Ben's statement, the building only has two other ways to go, one massive hallway stretching out East much like the other stretches West.
“This could simply be a protective measure to stop anyone from entering the area through this portal,” Mauvier quickly whispers something to Diamant, the two speaking back and forth before speaking up again. “Diamant and I will head to the right,”
“That's right. The faster we can be sure of our exit, the better. Besides, Mauvier is most likely right about the barrier,” Diamant begins to walk down the right path with Mauvier, the two brooking no arguing.
“Well, that just leaves us going left then. Hopefully this just isn't boring,” Boucheron shrugs and does as told.
Ben does the same and follows him, the two men walking down the massive hallway side by side —an uncommon occurrence with their broad selves.
“No sign of that emblem, huh?” Boucheron asks.
“No. I swear I saw him walk in here. I promise,”
“I believe you. And I don't mind, it gives us another reason to explore this area anyways. Speaking of,” Boucheron stops.
As does Ben, Ben furrowing his brows before glancing behind himself. He finds nothing but the unadorned walls.
Their conversation cut short upon reaching a wide door —said door being the only possible way out of the barren hallway— both of the men stand before the doorway that is nearly as wide as the hallway itself.
“We might as well try to see if that emblem came down this way. Or even a way to enter the portal,” Ben pushes the door open, the door pushed aside as easily as throwing a knife.
Boucheron follows right behind Ben, the two entering together. And the door shuts behind them the same as last time. But unlike the broad, plain hallway they were once in, the two men end up in a single, more expansive and much more embellished room. A few benches are lined throughout the room. As well as draped clothes and straps of armor scattered around and seemingly left forgotten on the provided shelves. And along with every shelf, a fresh pair of mawashi are lined down them, each basket prepared with one.
“Well, it’s obvious that we found the changing room,” Ben slowly walks forward, eyes scanning the walls for any sort of door besides the one they just came from. But he finds none.
“We got the short end of the stick then,” Boucheron says as Ben shakes his head. With no hesitation, one quick step followed by another, he heads over to the nearest basket. “When in Elusia, right?”
“We should go find the Diamant and Mauvier first though. They’ll probably need our help if their side has more rooms,” Ben’s feet stay firmly planted by the door.
“Who said anything about not helping them? Let’s just change so that way we’re ready for some training once they have the portal unlocked. Come on, don’t think I didn't see you eyeing all those guys back there,” Boucheron sits on the bench, waiting for Ben to join him. When no movement happens, he sighs. “Seriously? The emblem you saw could be back outside there too. Now’s your chance to train with him again,” Boucheron stands up with a smile as Ben turns around.
“Fine. But we’re still helping Diamant and Mauvier first. And then we can train together afterwards,” Ben says as he grabs a mawashi from the basket next to Boucheron. “We’ve slacked off a bit,”
“It has been a while. Last time we trained together was in the Somniel, I’m pretty sure,” Boucheron starts undressing by taking off his shirt first. He slowly shrugs off the orange clothing, the fabric wrinkled up in a bundle as he tosses it onto the bench. Still needing to take off his brown tank top, the low neckline of it strained by his broad chest that spills out the side of the fabric, Boucheron takes his sweet time in appreciating his figure. Especially in his biceps as he flexes all his hard work from lugging around and swinging mighty axes. “I have to make sure you don’t pass me up,” Boucheron squeezes his right bicep as he flexes. His fingers don’t even come close to encircling all of his beefy brawn.
Ben takes his sweet time in unlooping and unbuckling the multitude of belts affixed to himself. The sturdy leather ends up dumped onto the bench while his body thanks itself for the extra bit of breathing room, meaty thighs already chafing against itself no longer having to worry about yet another thing creating friction. With no more straps of leather in the way, Ben tosses off his fur lined coat, his entire upper torso now exposed in an instant. “I am getting pretty close though,” His biceps indeed large, he flexes the two broad arms for a quick second. Before Ben goes to show off his biggest asset with a smirk. “I think I have you beat here though,” His large chest exposed, the two fat pecs jut out with no more tight clothing in the way to hold them back. Ben shows them off, doing a side chest pose as his tits seem to swell up in size, both meaty tits pressed against his biceps. Biceps which are admittedly smaller than Boucheron’s own, throwing knives only able to help keep the definition and musculature at his size so much.
“Alright. Yeah, you have a big chest. I remember how often you did pushups back in the Somniel. But I’m no slouch either,” Boucher pulls off his tank top. Rather slowly. He shows off his chiseled six pack, his firm, defined abs still retaining their definition. As well as his obliques, Boucheron’s abdomen more defined than Ben’s own. The hemline of his shirt slowly lifted off of his skin, his plump chest enjoys the fresh air. Boucheron grabs a hold of his left pec, fingers squeezing against the dense muscle. Not too far behind Ben, the difference between the two men’s chest is still apparent, especially with them being nearly the exact same height. Then Boucheron begins to take off his boots and pants, shrugging off the brown clothes and ending up in nothing but his trunks.
Ben subsequently does the same. His pants and boots end up forgotten somewhere behind him as he strips down to only his briefs.
Boucheron’s trunks show off his shapely ass, the bubble butt created from rigorous training. His two shapely cheeks fill out the back, the waistband just straining enough to reach past them. The low waistline also shows off his six pack and defined v-line, the trunks sitting comfortably at least there. Unlike the lower half which struggles against his big thighs; Boucheron’s large legs fill out the trunks, the material bunched up as it struggles. The pouch of his trunk is also rather filled out like every other inch of it. Meanwhile, Ben’s briefs are similarly tight. The back has little issue containing his ass, Ben’s rear still a nice, perky little butt. But, the lack of material from the high cut shows off a sliver of his ass. Same with the high cut in the front; his large, defined thighs are exposed, his legs free to breathe as they press up against each other. Ben’s thighs have nothing to worry about when it comes to being constrained. Unlike his crotch that stretches and bulges against the extra support provided by the clothing.
“Well, I’d say we’re about tied when you take everything into account,” Boucheron nods as he appraises Ben and himself one last time.
Ben nods just the same, his lips curving upward as he fully disrobes and puts on his mawashi. “Yeah. It just means we really have to train here once we get a chance,”
“You’re on,” Boucheron slides up his Mawashi after taking off his trunks. Though he glances down once the material doesn’t sit the best on his lower half. “Hey Ben, I think we got ones that are too big,” He holds the mawashi up with his hands, the material too large to even sit on him without falling.
“Yeah. Maybe we can adjust them?” Ben looks down at his own mawashi as he simultaneously holds it up, so it doesn’t fall. Properly looking at the object for the first time, he finds no way of easily adjusting it.
Mauvier and Diamant walking down the barren hallway, they continue to find nothing down the short walk before they end up reaching a door. They simply open it up without a single word. And yet again, neither speak up once the door closes behind him much like when they first entered the building.
Though it doesn’t matter as Ben and Boucheron can’t help but moan, both men suddenly red in the face as their transformation begins to take place.
Standing before them is a quaint yet massive kitchen, the room adorned with tables capable of satisfying the number of patrons needed for such a spacious kitchen. Except the kitchen goes completely unused at the moment. Not a single person cooking or baking, even the countertops look unused for quite some time as the two men begin to check out the room. But neither of them find anything of interest. Nor even an exit besides the one they entered from. The two men speak amongst themselves as they continue to search the room for possibly anything at this point.
“This must be where the food they were eating outside was made, but still,” Mauvier wipes off some dust off of the counters, his frown deepening.
“You said you sensed some magic coming down this hallway, right? So, the mechanism for the barrier should be here,” Diamant glances back at the dining area but still finds nothing.
Mauvier sighs. “Theoretically, it should be here. But I sent Boucheron and Ben down the other way in case I was wrong. Which unfortunately it seems to be the case,”
“Well, nothing to do besides head…” Diamant trails off. Brows furrowed, his nose twitches as he begins to sniff the air.
Mauvier’s back tenses, his arms rigid as he goes to grip his lance. Only to find nothing just like when they first warped to this strange place. Immediately turning around, his concern immediately turns to confusion.
“So that’s what I smelled. It smelled too savory to be poison,” Diamant stares right where Mauvier’s eyesight is focused on.
Standing before them on the largest table is a veritable feast of food, countless dishes somehow freshly made if the tempting aroma wafting off of them is any indication. The plates of food barely have any vacant space on the table. With no one else in the room besides them, Diamant and Mauvier reach the same exact conclusion.
“This must be the magic I sensed,” Mauvier takes a couple of slow steps forward.
Diamant follows behind him, his paces a bit more rushed before he overtakes him. “So, this has to be how the food is made here. It makes sense with how large everyone is here and why the kitchen looks to be unused,” Diamant stops before the table; he stares at the massive spread of food provided, mouth beginning to salivate at the myriad of dishes right before them, dishes waiting to be enjoyed.
Mauvier takes a few steps forward so as to stand slightly behind Diamant. And he places a hand on his shoulder, his extra height making it easier on him. “We don’t know if this food is meant for anyone else. Someone will most likely be coming for it soon considering how eager everyone outside seems to be eating,”
“You have a point,” Diamant relents with a groan. He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts and remembering about the portal. “If the mechanism for the portal isn’t here then” -Diamant smells the tantalizing food laid about before them once again. “Why don’t we wait and see if anyone comes for the food?” Diamant’s mind begins to grow fuzzy, his brain becoming clouded with thoughts of the food before him. But he does patiently wait as he said he would. He instead simply remains standing as the time slowly goes by.
“It would be best if we head back the other way,” Mauvier places his hand back on Diamant, this time gripping the man’s arm, squeezing his bicep. Glancing at the door, he lets out a sigh of relief as everything else looks completely normal. Mauvier winces as his stomach growls, a guttural sound emanating from the sudden yearning abyss forming in his gut. He places a hand on his stomach, as if to quell the intense cravings he begins to feel.
“It’s been hours since we’ve eaten anything, Mauvier. We pretty much haven’t eaten all day,” Diamant plops himself down on the bench provided —the area well equipped and accustomed to much larger figures using the room. The magic working on the far more susceptible to magic Diamant than Mauvier’s staff wielding self, Diamant decides to waste no time in enjoying himself to the food provided. He takes a bite of some fried chicken first, the crispy skin ripping apart as he tears into it. Then he helps himself to the grilled and steamed vegetables laid out next to it, all of it coated in a hefty helping of butter. Diamant still has his table manners at the least. Only after he finishes his plate does he move to a smaller second plate, grilled beef served over a bowl of rice. “Help yourself, Mauvier. It’s delicious,” Diamant says after finishing his current forkful of food, his stomach still gurgling in hunger as he continues to partake in the food.
Food that Mauvier stares down at, his face wincing as his stomach continues to crave food, his body no longer simply asking anymore, his body begging to be sated as he finally caves in and sits down. “We’ll leave after we have enough,” He says, his voice more so a faint whisper as he reaches for the bowl of clam chowder. And he begins to take his first mouthful, chunks of potatoes and onion mixed with pork and onion practically dissolving in his mouth. Mauvier takes his time, nursing his soup as he takes occasional bites from it. He waits to finish his current bit of food before going back for more. He only drinks the soup once he finally reaches the tail end of the dish, much faster than he normally would.
Ben and Boucheron struggle to remain standing. Their knees shake buckle as their entire bodies begin to be enveloped in a blanket of warmth, the caressing sensation quickly feeling like the sweltering heat of Solm as they continue to warm up.
Mauvier reaches for another plate of food, his pace quickening along with Diamant’s; both men begin to grow flushed in the face, increasingly heavy panting and moaning escaping their lips as they begin to eat faster, their transformation beginning.
And as their bodies begin to swell.
Boucheron holds up his mawashi with his jittering right hand —his left hand no longer able to hold onto the far too big clothing as it now caresses and fondles his newfound belly. A small, petite, little thing, Boucheron’s new addition reminiscent of his bulking days gone a day or two too long. Until it continues to expand, his gut slowly taking up more space as it bulges outward in front of him; his belly swells up before his very eyes —squinting from pleasure as he tries his very best to not fully tilt his head back. He shifts his left arm to under his gut, his also growing arm put to shame from its much more stagnant growth. Even despite the extra size it begins to sport not just from fat but from muscle as well, Boucheron’s biceps now larger than his head and easily capable of putting anyone from Elyos and even the Order of Heroes to shame. And yet, it struggles to hold up Boucheron’s stomach as it simply keeps on growing. Once it’s large enough to smother an entire chair does it begin to sag in earnest, his stomach drooping far past his crotch and midway down his expanding thighs upon him letting go of his engorged gut. His thighs thankfully grow sufficiently large enough to properly fill out his mawashi. The white fabric even begins to squish against his blubbery self, ass and thighs still growing.
Ben doesn’t fare much differently. His body expanding, his figure begins by putting muscle on his already adonis figure. He fills out at a more even rate, arms and legs both becoming rather brutish in the pure strength they contain as they grow and fill out with more and more muscle, Ben’s biceps capable enough to tear a bundle of spears while his legs begin to vie for more and more space against each other as his junk starts to get pushed forward from the growing lack of space. It doesn’t take long for his mawashi to be properly filled out, large tree trunk thighs that struggle to be close to each other from their shirt girth pressed up against the fabric as his once bubble butt which seems to jiggle from every slight movement Ben makes firms further up and becomes further pronounced behind him. Every labored breath he takes seems to add more muscle to his frame, his well-defined pecs filling up and jutting further out as they press up against his biceps, and his abs grow more defined, his glistening washboard abs seemingly bulging from as he continues to expand with muscle. So much so that he starts to struggle with moving. His over swollen biceps struggle to be lifted up when the rest of his titanic body is pressed up against them that makes even the most dedicated of warriors or berserkers seem downright pathetically puny, next to Ben.
Both of the men simply continue growing and swelling. The two of them muttering to themselves and to each other, the words come out choked by moans as they grow. Boucheron and Ben are barely aware of themselves. Only able to enjoy their growing figures, the two men don’t even realize the changes to their own minds. Not that they even can, old, distant memories of themselves warped and distorted. Memories become hazy. Boucheron’s memories of being a retainer become fuddled, of his time as an avid reader or his time simply training his muscles, and Ben’s memories of living in the forest, of following his own path rather than being a knight, of finding and encountering the Bracelet of the Samurai, those too begin to distort, both men’s experiences are washed away under a torrent of new information, their old muscular selves now replaced with memories of always being so large, of being so massive. The two become quite aware of their true size they were always meant to be as they grow, Ben and Boucheron’s minds filled up with false memories and experiences as sumos. They also begin to fill up with the not so false feelings of their true emotions, well controlled, hidden feelings about each other and the rest of the team bubbling up to the surface of their minds.
Eventually, the rest of Boucheron’s body slowly fills out as well to be something resembling catching up to his enormously bloated gut. His thighs continue to swell and grow, legs blimping with both muscle and fat, but mostly fat from the way his body continues to lose most definition.
But it lags far behind his immense gut; where bulbous thighs would press up against each other, they instead press up against Boucheron’s enormous gut, his stomach swollen enough to fully blanket another man with more than enough room to fit another. Boucheron’s growing tits —tits that are fatter than his own bloated, hefty face— use his enormous couch crushing stomach as nothing more than a platform to rest on, his bulging breasts diminutive next to the cascading wall of lard Boucheron has for a stomach. Boucheron’s arms struggle to move around from the lard encasing them. They barely reach past his own tits, tree trunk sized arms only able to move so much with too much of his own size limiting him. And unbeknownst to Boucheron, his mind preoccupied with simply enjoying all his newfound grandeur as he’s always known it to be, remembering just how difficult it is to move at his size, his mawashi begins to grow with him as it changes as well. His formerly white mawashi slowly compliments him properly, the fabric turning an orange shade; gold trims eventually form as well, the bright trimming given a small, nearly imperceptible teal border to it so as to match him.
And just as soon as Ben’s body begins to be too much for him to handle, most flexibility lost and mobility not too far off, his body slowly starts to be coated in a soft layer of flab. It starts off slow like his expansion of muscle, all of his mass cushioned by lard before it grows in earnest as more and more fat expands on his figure. Ben’s musculature is all washed away by lard, like cliffs smashed against by the sea. His figure simply continues to bulge further and further outward, arms and legs blimping up as they start to lose all definition. Ben grows all over, washboard abs quickly turning into a gut that easily makes it past his mawashi, his now a calming cream color much like the fur he once wore. Fur that would now cost a fortune to be enough to cover his expansive form. His mawashi also gains a red trim to it, similar to his old attire he can no longer even remember. And brown cross patterning appears over the trim, the design reminiscent to all his belts from carrying knives, not that a belt can even fit over an over engorged arm that’s larger than a man’s torso, much less his waistline. Ben’s chest fills out further, pecs now completely gone and replaced by two enormous tits that sag and splay down his stomach. Breasts large enough and slathered in so much fat that they still resemble the stomachs of the smaller sumos they saw despite the muscle hidden behind all of Ben’s lard.
“B-Boucheron…” Ben mutters with one eye open, his other closed as his beat red face huffs, a few errant moans escaping him.
“Hnggghh…” Is all Boucheron replies. His own face red, his bloated face jiggles as he heavily breathes. He takes his time catching his breath, unsure as to why his body feels exerted but all thoughts leave his mind as he gazes upon Ben. “You’re… hot as… always…” Boucheron stutters, mind slowly changing Ben’s former appearance to match his current one, all memories of Ben slowly replaced with new ones —memories that Ben’s bloated figure takes up most of the space. Doing his best to take a step, Boucheron’s enormous gut gets in the way of his lumbering waddling. But despite how his gut now rests on the floor, bottom layer of lard grazing and resting on the ground as it juts out a couple feet in front of him, he manages to take a couple of steps towards Ben. A couple steps only needed with how expansive amount of space the two take up by themselves, let alone together. Boucheron goes to grab Ben, but both of their bodies get in the way. “So big…”
“Y-yeah…” Ben’s memories also changing, they easily swap over to Boucheron’s new size. He doesn’t bother questioning a single thing. Ben merely enjoys Boucheron’s presence. And the way their lard squished together, rolls of flab pressed up against not only their own bodies, but up against each other’s. “Your stomach is huge,” Ben plainly replies as he tries his best to reach for it. But he can’t, not with his own enormity getting in the way, both men’s faces standing feet apart from each other as their guts press up and get in the way. But the sheer enamorment in both of their faces clearly show their intentions to grab and fondle each other.
Boucheron’s mind slowly begins to clear up, brain no longer addled from all the memories adjusting over. “But you’re big all over,” Boucheron gazes upon Ben’s sheer size. Both of them enormous and around the same size, Ben’s entire body clearly used every last inch of itself to hold all of its lard. Like a complete butterball, every bit of himself is completely massive. Especially compared to Boucheron’s self, his arms, legs, tits, ass, and even his face smaller next to Ben’s own sheer display of girth. And yet, Boucheron’s massive gut still puts everything else to shame, his gut now seemingly capable of filling out and crushing an entire bed.
“Mmhmm,” Ben agrees, his face flushed as he tries and fails to flex his biceps that he barely lifts up an inch before giving up. “Let’s find Diamant and Mauvier,”
Diamant and Mauvier’s asses are still firmly planted on the bench. The only time either men even merely rise a few inches up from their seat is to grab another plate of food.
And despite their sizes, the two men somehow manage to still move, two walls of lard slowly lumbering down the building as the door opens up for them and walk down the massive hallway that now barely struggles to contain them, flab brushing up against the walls that tremble from their steps.
Diamant’s mind a bit further along than Mauvier’s, he eagerly grabs at whatever food that tempts him. Which happens to be meat, meat, and more meat. Diamant occasionally grabs and eats sides of vegetables that tempt him, but the buttery roasted sides are nothing more than a simple stop to his true journey of indulging in meat. He still manages to eat with something resembling decorum. Especially for his Brodian heritage, the festy warriors of his country never the most courteous when it comes to table manners. But even his fervent eating comes close to surpassing the usual maximum of what is allowed. Diamant nearly begins to shovel more food into his mouth before he can truly appreciate and savor the taste. Or properly wash it down with ale. Diamant simply takes another bite the near instant he finishes swallowing the prior one. Diamant grabs whatever he craves from whatever plate is in front of him, wishing to sample and satisfy himself.
Mauvier still takes his time eating, or at least something resembling it. He savors all of his food before going onto the next plate. He does let out a few choked moans, however, his face a bright flushed red. Much like Diamant, Mauvier immediately gravitates more towards the meaty plates of food —of which there are countless. Though he takes his time in indulging them as well as enjoying the soups and vegetables provided. But no matter how he tries, Mauvier’s gut still continues to feel like an empty black hole; his stomach demands and begs for more and more food. And Mauvier obliges, his pace picking up as he slowly begins to now have two plates of food in front of him at a time, Muavier picking and devouring from both.
So engrossed in their food, neither of them even pay attention to their growing figures.
Mauvier’s figure filling rather slowly, he somehow begins to pack on muscle despite all of his gorging. The food laced with magic does its work on him, Mauvier’s clothes growing snug. A fact that Mauvier pays little attention to. Or even at all as the strap of leather holding his hip guards begin to grow a bit snug, Mauvier preferring to indulge himself with the fine spread of food in front of him instead. Neither does he pay attention to the armor on his arms and shoulders growing more constrained, shoulders broadening and widening as do his biceps, armor and clothing concealing the hulking figure Mauvier begins to obtain as he continues to gorge himself. But no sooner as his brawny body begins to show does he begin to gain a heaping portion of flab on his body. His armor and all the straps of leather that come with it start to struggle in earnest from his increased size. But even the cold metal digging into his clothes are little issue to the magic. The very instant something begins to become an issue for Mauvier’s growing body, his armor comes right off, hunks of metal falling off of him like a coin tossed into a fountain. They dissipate before they clink onto the ground, as if they were never there to begin with. His thighs slowly pool further and further onto the bench, poofy pants no longer as roomy as they once were with a set of large thighs and a large posterior that slowly begins to drape off the end of the large bench.
Which might as well be the case as Mauvier’s brain slowly changes as the potent magic demands it. All of his years of experience slowly fizzle away, memories washed off as magic replaces all his experiences with one befitting his large size. Memories of eating and training, memories of being a sumo. Memories of Diamant and the other men, Mauvier’s own deeply dug feelings slowly drudged up.
Diamant’s body bloats up nicely from all of his eating. With every bite he takes, more flab is slathered onto his body. All of Diamant’s body is coated by a hefty layer as he continues to eat more and more food in a vain attempt to satisfy his hunger. The bit of muscle he gets from all his gorging ends up immediately covered up by lard. Diamant’s stomach begins to pool onto his lap. The billowing gut he slowly starts to sport more and more of is held back by the straps of his belt, the expensive leather acting as a dam for this blubbery gut. His thighs slowly begin to take up more of the bench, pants growing snug as Diamant merely continues to grow as if nothing were happening to him. All the belts he has on his chest grow snug as well as his once broad pecs easily become noticeable moobs that press up against his clothes. Clothes that outline them as well; his chest continues to expand outward, attempting to break free from the clutches of his belts. And it comes far more easily than it should. Diamant’s belts give up. Far faster than the finely crafted leather should, but the magic simply has them snap as if they were made of simple twine. Diamant’s expanse has more room to grow with the belts out of the way, all of it simply gone as his brain slowly fills in new gaps of memories.
Years as Brodia’s prince are picked apart, Diamant’s lavish yet rigorous lifestyle diluted with new memories of training and eating, a rather fitting set of memories for his growing body. The magic works quickly and easily on Diamant from his poor susceptibility to the craft. He quickly thinks nothing of his current size or still growing body. Or anything about his feelings on the other men on his team. Or about how the men feel about him in return, the magic changing all for him as it brings about their emotions into reality.
“Mauvier, try this,” Despite his own now much more frantic pace that he eats at, Diamant no longer even waits to finish his current bite of food before shoveling another forkful into his eager mouth; he begins to hand Mauvier food, eager to help his partner grow. Diamant washes down plates of food with an entire mug of ale, not a single drop of the liquid wasted despite his hurried chugging. And his contented sigh only lasts a few seconds before he continues to shovel more food down his mouth.
Muavier’s mind slowly adjusting as well, he merely nods at the offer of food. And he does eat it as told upon finishing his current bite of food as the ravenous hunger from his gut and brain demand of him. Mauvier tries a bite of everything Diamant hands him, a bite soon turning into the rest of the plate. His figure still growing, the lard blanketing his muscle focuses on his prodigious lower half that begins to slowly tear through his pants, soft, squishy bits of flab exposed past the black pants. His shirt fares a bit better as it only outlines his hefty upper rolls of lard that make up his stomach, but even his stomach puts heavyset men to shame as it begins to sit and rest on his lap. Shortly after, Mauvier’s entire clothes begin to dissipate off of his body. And replacing it all is a mawashi, the black material the same color as his clothes. Along with the material comes swirls of purple patterning, reminiscence of the purple flames on his now old attire.
Diamant no longer having anything resembling decency, his clothes are in complete tatters from his enormity. Despite being the same size as Mauvier, Diamant’s own much more taut clothing can only do so much when he weighs thrice as much —and even more beyond that— as the original figure for them Diamant’s figure takes up the entire width of his already tree trunk sized thighs. The mawashi that magically appears on him upon his clothes dissipating are barely even visible upon his seated form, Diamant’s a muted red befitting of his old clothes, zigzags of black and a vibrant red patterned over it as well. And still, he continues to shovel more food into his eager maw. And most excitedly, he happily eats whatever Mauvier hands to him, the exchanging of food slowly growing more infrequent as both men continue to gain weight and slowdown from their size.
Eventually, the two skip handing food to the other upon feeling each other's own enormity pressed up against one another. Mauvier’s thighs bulge against Diamant’s slightly slimmer ones, while Diamant's enormous love handles ooze and rest on Mauvier’s thighs. With the mobility that they can muster, guts pressing up against the table, the two of them feed the other with the last remaining remnants of food, nothing but pastries left upon the once seemingly endless table of food. All of their girth getting in the way makes the prospect a bit difficult despite their mobility. Mauvier and Diamant lean against the other, lard slapping against lard, as they try their best. And once the food quickly runs out, they grope each other while they can, the magic slowly ending, and they return to something resembling their senses.
Both of the men go to stand up, both of them huffing from lugging around their immense weight. And standing, the two men are practically equals in sheer size and heft. Where Diamant’s entire body resembles one large dough ball, his large face full of breasts squishing against his enormously bloated arms while resting on top of his gut spilling all the way down to his bloated knees attached to enormous thighs, Mauvier’s extremely bottom heavy self leaves the taller man rather pear shaped. His mawashi is nearly hidden underneath all of his lardaceous legs, the over swollen thighs pressed up against each other despite his wide stance. And Mauvier’s ass juts out behind him, his upper half somewhat small compared to the rest of his enormity.
Diamant huffs as he smiles at his partner’s figure. Though he also lifts up his gut with both his hands, what he can reach of it anyways, content with his enormity. “Let’s… get the others…” Diamant groans, taking his first lumbering step at his size, moving with a surprising ease despite all of his girth.
“Y-yeahhh…” Mauvier wheezes as he joins Diamant. Much more muscle than his partner, Mauvier walks off with ease. Though his bulging thighs and ass make it rather difficult to walk with all his flab rubbing against itself.
Mauvier and Diamant reach the entrance first. The two men simply huffing as they wait, they hear Ben and Boucheron’s groans before they see them. And upon seeing them, the two men eagerly watch them slowly waddle their barely movable selves to the entrance. Neither Mauvier nor Diamant pay attention to the portal back to Askr swirling in the background beside them, nor the now missing barrier. And neither do Ben and Boucheron once they reach Diamant and Mauvier. Instead, all four men are simply content to be reunited.
The two men walking beside each other, they eventually have to walk in a single line when they reach the hallway, both of them now far too wide to walk side by side. So Mauvier walks in front, his ass wobbling behind him as Diamant’s gut pushes up against it as they walk down and fill up most of the hallway.
And so is the magic, the last vestiges of the spell taking hold upon the men once in each other’s presence. All together once more, the already barely addled men lose the last bit of their memories, each vision of their past becoming filled with nothing but thoughts of the other three. The group quickly becomes a mess of energy, moans escaping all of them as they begin to grope one another.
Diamant and Mauvier much smaller than Ben and Boucheron, the two men take joy in their ease of fondling the other. They grope at whatever they can, plenty to grab and far too much to enjoy all alone, the room becomes enveloped by the sounds of lard slapping against itself as well as moans. None of them even bother saying much, the magic taking away most of their intelligence.
The door soon opens up behind them. The bright light outside fills up the room as it seemingly waits for their response.
“Outside,” Diamant grunts after some time, eager for more space to enjoy each other. And the other men agree.
Boucheron going first, Ben waddles behind him practically pushing his entire weight against Boucheron to help him move with his enormous gut getting in the way. His gut soon grazes against the grass outside. Slowly trudging outside, Boucheron is already a large mess of moans as he struggles to walk. His entire body begging for rest and some food, Ben’s own enormity pushing him along is the only thing keeping him going. And behind Ben, Diamant and Mauvier stand behind him —hip pressed against hip— and push him as well. The two men push with all their might, their buried under hundreds of pounds of lard clearly not for show as they manage to push the two titanic men outside, a feat only possible from Boucheron and Ben’s own musculature.
“Stuck…” Boucheron grunts as he comes crashing onto the ground, his stomach cushioning his fall as he struggles to move around. He slowly flails his arms and legs, his limbs struggling to move with his bed for a gut in the way. They fail to even touch the ground, all of Boucheron’s enormity pressed up against his gut. His face sinks into his breasts meanwhile, Boucheron getting a face full of them.
Ben comes stumbling behind him. He surprisingly doesn’t come crashing to the ground, but he has Diamant and Mauvier guiding him, both of the men holding both sides of him so as to keep him steady. “Mmmhh…” Ben groans as he tries to lean into their embrace. “T-touch…” Both men oblige, eager to fondle and grope Ben just as eager as they are to keeping him upright. They push more of their weight against Ben, their stomachs and thighs squished up against Ben’s gut that barely grazes the ground at its lowest point. All three of them close enough in height, Diamant and Mauvier are still able to grab a handful of Ben’s bulging tits, his breasts too tantalizing to pass up. Both men push more of their weight against him, squishing the much fatter Ben in between themselves.
Unable to see, Boucheron can plainly hear the audible moans coming from the trio. “ I-I need… touches…” He whines, desperately shaking his arms and legs but still unable to do anything about his predicament. Boucheron remains planted to the ground, anchored by his monumental gut.
Eventually the other men do come to his help at the very least. “Push…” Mauvier groans out, face wincing as he and Diamant stand on one side of Boucheron and slowly push him up. Slowly, they begin to push at him, all of Boucheron’s enormity wobbling as his body goes back and forth. Boucheron moans as his entire body shakes and jostles, his lard slapping against itself. Ben watches close by his eyes lidded as he gropes what he can of his own enormity at the scene in front of him. But eventually, they get enough momentum and with one final shove they get him up off of his tremendous gut and onto his back.
Where Boucheron ends up pinned once again by his far too big gut, all of it pressing down on him and pinning him arms and legs. But his new position does give the other men better access to him despite looking like an overly sized boulder, which he practically is at his size and position.
Ben slowly comes lumbering over to Boucheron, his heavy footfalls sounding out along with his tired wheezes. And he sits down next to Boucheron, arms resting against what bit of Boucheron’s gut he can with Ben's own size getting in the way. Ben thankfully sits close enough to Boucheron’s arm to where Boucheron can grab and paw at Ben’s own enormity, his plumped up fingers groping Ben’s rivulets of ass and copious thigh fat.
Diamant remains standing. He leans against Boucheron and Ben’s enormity, the two of them comfortable cushions he’s always loved. Both of his hands rest on them, his blubbery biceps squished against the two men as he relaxes.
Mauvier kneels on the ground instead. His ass jutting up behind him, his gut touches the floor from his position. He smiles at Boucheron as he begins to caress and pinch Boucheron’s bloated, blubbery face. Boucheron gets an eyeful of Mauvier’s girth, especially of his still sizable tits and belly.
Ben still seated, he gets an idea as he stares too long into Diamant’s stomach. His legs strain as he slowly stands up. Ben uses Boucheron as a base to stand up, arms sinking into Boucheron’s gut. Diamant also helps him by giving him a hand. He takes deeper and deeper breaths before he finally somehow manages to end back up on his two feet. And lumbering over to Diamant, Ben’s huffs turn into moans as he leans into him. “Want… s-umo match…”
Diamant doesn’t move. He simply ends up smothered in between both Ben and Boucheron’s enormity. Not that he complains; his own fervent pants come out rapidly as Ben pushes at him with all his might. He sinks into Boucheron’s stomach; Ben’s own girth covering him as well as the two of them envelop Diamant’s blubbery self.
“N-nooo fair…” Boucheron whines as Mauvier stands up as well. His body wobbling, he huffs as he goes to the other side of Boucheron. He pushes him once more.
Diamant still stuck between them, he bounces off of Boucheron and pushes back at Ben with all his might. Which surprisingly works as Ben moans and steps back. Memories filled with helping Boucheron, he grabs one hand. Mauvier grabs the other hand.
And both men groan as they tug at him.
Boucheron groans as well, struggling with all his might to get a proper footing. Which he eventually does as he slowly but surely stands up despite his gut in the way. Ben knowingly stands behind Boucheron, helping him by pushing him with his hands, but mostly with his own gut, Ben’s entire morbidly obese figure jiggling as he helps.
And they eventually manage to get Boucheron standing, all four men a panting, wheezing mess.
But they start their sumo match in earnest. Which resembles very little to what the sumos they saw earlier doing. Instead, all four men simply treat it as an excuse to enjoy one another’s bodies; all of them are far too big to properly have a match, even Diamant and Mauvier alone, the two of them larger than even Askr or Eikþyrnir, let alone the rest of the sumos.
Mauvier makes sure to constantly squat, his powerful legs enabling him to duck and avoid all of Boucheron and Ben’s poor attempts to grab at him. He lunges at the others whenever he can, his arms trying their best to grab as much of Ben and Boucheron as they can as he gets a face full of their guts. And to Diamant, he has much more of an even opponent, the two fondling each other, Diamant’s hands resting on Mauvier’s ass while Mauvier likewise touches his overflowing tits and gut. Diamant doesn’t bother with a proper stance like his new memories remind him off. He instead simply stands normally and allows himself to be grabbed. He adjusts his own bulk before grabbing the others, pulling up his mawashi and flaunting his large, sagging gut that makes walking a bit difficult with it blanketing his knees. Diamant does refuse to budge as Boucheron and Ben lean against him and fondle him, everything but his face smothering in bulging fat. Boucheron struggles to move with his gut in the way, but he tries his best. His stomach practically keeps him anchored to the ground. He does still manage to get a good handful of all the others. Especially Ben with how massive he is, Boucheron enjoying how massive his arms are, Ben struggling to lift them much more than the rest. Especially as Ben is large enough to take up almost all of an actual sumo ring on his very own, both his gut and ass jutting far out behind him. Though his size doesn’t stop him from moving, his limbs burning up with each movement. But the sheer determination of his three partners keeps him going. As it does to the other three, all four of them completely content.
The four stay together, enjoying their imitation of wrestling. Moving and shuffling around, they practically resemble a massive pile of lard as they try their best to hug and fondle one another at their larger sizes. None of them even notice the doors to the building closing shut. Or how the portal back to Askr slowly dissipates, their only way out now gone. Not that they’d ever want to leave; all four of them are just as eager to stay and enjoy each other like all the rest of the men.
________________________________________
All four of them also fail to notice the figures above them, three men atop of the building they came out of.
“Another successful job,” Askr pats his gut as he gazes down upon the quartet. “If I say so myself,”
“They’re rather big though,” Eikþyrnir comments. His eyes are still appreciative of their sizes despite his comment.
“They must have all really wanted this then. But no matter, it’s time for their proper greeting, don’t you think?” Askr gestures towards the person in front of him.
Ryoma standing at the edge of the building, he simply remains quiet as he gazes upon the four men. His own mind affected by the magic, he enjoys his size if his own groping is any indication. Ryoma only moves upon command.
“Go on then,” Eikþyrnir commands as Askr summons a portal right next to Ryoma, both of the gods offering their magic unto him.
And Ryoma obliges. He jumps straight off as instructed, his own red with gold trim mawashi flowing in the wind as he cannonballs directly into the portal that opens up right below him. His long mane of hair billows behind him as he begins to have an incandescent glow to his entire being. Ryoma disappears for an instant, his hefty figure teleporting as another portal opens up several feet beneath where he disappeared and a few feet in front; the newly summoned portal transports him right above the four men.
And all four of them cushion Ryoma’s fall as their own figures begin to glow where their sacred seals once were. Dust rises off of the ground from the impact. And the glow dissipates with it, Ryoma left the only one once the dust settles. Well, not quite. Ryoma stands atop the now flattened sumos, the new additions as flat as a paper. Their expressions one of minor shock, the blushes displayed on their faces betrays their enjoyment.
Another portal appears beside them as Ryoma slowly steps off of them. And Ryoma heads off upon being dismissed, his brain focused on finding Kaden and enjoying his beloved Kitsune’s own girth.
Askr and Eikþyrnir waddle through the enlarged portal. Eikþyrnir carries a large chest in his arms, the massive piece of seemingly antiquity dropped to the ground.
“Let’s begin,” Askr bends down and reaches for Boucheron, the bovine god clearly eager to hold the new addition with the most massive gut, no matter how flat and squished down his current situation.
Eikþyrnir reaches and grabs Mauvier. And despite Mauvier’s equally same situation as the rest of his partners, Eikþyrnir appraises the man for his dedication to training, Mauvier’s bulky lower half still ingrained in his mind. “Time for your initiation,”
Hanging them in the air for a short while, the two divine beings eventually slowly fold up the two men, their flattened bodies easily obeying their accustomed hands. Bit by bit they fold Boucheron and Mauvier like clothing. Boucheron takes much more time, his body flattened into a bigger pile than Mauvier who ends up gently placed into the chest, Eikþyrnir folding him so as to have his face at the top.
And Eikþyrnir reaches down once more for Diamant, nodding to himself upon seeing the strength Diamant still possessed despite his rather blubbery form. “Can’t have you four be separated now, can we?”
Askr finishes folding up Boucheron, placing him in the chest right with Mauvier before reaching for Ben, Askr’s technique of folding exactly the same as Boucheron’s face ends up on top. “Come on now, I know you're going to take me awhile,”
Eikþyrnir puts Diamant with the rest shortly after Askr begins with Ben. The two obese sumos for beasts work together to fold up Ben, so much of himself to go around when flattened from how massive every single part of him was. They go by quickly, but folding him still takes time, Ben taking up as much time as the rest despite being worked on by the two porcine sumos. But nonetheless, Ben ends up gingerly placed inside the chest as well.
“Welcome to your new paradise,” Askr and Eikþyrnir both say with a smile, the four flattened and folded men content as the chest closes on them, Diamant, Mauvier, Boucheron, and Ben as well in paradise indeed.
Kinda thought I already posted this oopsie, but enjoy this longer story commissioned by @maletfgrowthblog involving Ki-ria and male tf along with some macro and musclechub. Cause I definitely enjoyed practicing teehee. And messing with the male cast cause tms is a guilty pleasure of mine.
The crowded, busy streets of Shibuya a flurry of activity every waking hour of the day, and even well into the night, the closed off area is no shabby exception. A concert scheduled months in advance —the preannouncement done before summer had even begun— the immediately sold out concert had promptly become the summer event of the year in the entirety of Japan. And even beyond, already booked and busy hotels swamped with orders from foreigners lucky enough in scoring tickets to Fortuna Entertainment’s summer bash. Though the concert had been initially planned in drawing out the company’s enemies, remnants of mirages once again appearing despite Medeus’ defeat. So many people around, a concert consisting of their own in-house talent —each and every one of them more than capable enough mirage masters— had been the perfect excuse to have all hands on deck, the public all too happy to see Fortuna’s contracted performers all together for the first time with the company’s true reasons unknown to them.
The entire lineup drip fed to the adoring and crazed fandom over multiple weeks, the opening/intermissionary act of Itsuki had come as no surprise to anyone, the still blooming artist a perfect way to open the show and fill in between artists without supposedly wasting Fortuna Entertainment's heavy hitters in a lineup of heavy hitters.
Which had caused every single news outfit in Japan to cover the countrywide cheer and appraisal when Kiria had been announced as the very last artist to perform on the first day of summer.
But unlike everyone else —and unlike even her fellow performers— Kiria thinks nothing of the decision, Maiko never wrong in whatever she puts her mind to. The still bright afternoon of the day's clear, sunny sky makes for the perfect weather for the outside concert. The crowd booms as they scream and cheer for yet another of Itsuki’s intermissions. The walls to Uzume Lesson Studio shake and tremble with the crowd so threateningly close to it. And to the rest of the talent hosted inside.
“Hmmph, seems like he’s finally taking to his lessons,” Yashiro having a seat like the others, his elbow rests on the arm of the adequate enough chair. The long exhausting day of work clearly affects him, Yashiro slumped against the back of his chair with his legs spread forward, no persistent vultures for paparazzi hounding him.
Kiria waits with Yashiro. The others with them as well, Tsubasa, Touma, and Eleonora keep their focus on the large flatscreen TV that has the free live feed of the concert —courtesy of Maiko after fighting tooth and nail with the bottom feeders that are shareholders.
“I trained him well, didn’t I?” The rhetorical question hangs in the air as Kiria continues to fiddle with her makeup. As the last one —and only one to still not have gone up— she touches up the small streak of pink makeup right underneath her eye, wiping off the minimal bit of excess product. The color matches the pink collar of faux fur around her neck. In her Reincarnation outfit, the song chosen to be the first of her set by her fans in a voting poll, the outfit still looks as snug as ever on her thin, shapely body. Her corset gives her little wiggle room, the enhanced hourglass shape pushing up her barely covered up breasts. Itsuki’s song blares in the small waiting room of the studio as they talk.
I know it's tough but I'll hold on, until we meet again someday
And I promise you with all of my heart that my smile won't fade away
The water swishes in his hand as Yashiro takes a drink. He has a brow raised at Kiria.
“Is there something you have to say Yashiro? I thought you’d have turned a new leaf. Or is that princely persona you put on still nothing but that?” The edges of Kiria’s plump lips are upturned, her lips covered in a nude lip gloss to help them pop.
“I’m glad I’m not wearing that ridiculous outfit,” Yashiro fixes his tie. Wearing a plain purple suit, the outfit is what he changed into after his set, the gaudy princely attire immediately shrugged off the instant he walked back into the sanctity of the studio. “If anything, you’re the one not giving someone enough credit. Itsuki worked rather hard to get where he is,” Despite looking up at Kiria, he can’t help but glance at the screen every so often, Itsuki taking up most of the camera.
There was a new me waiting somewhere inside
Doesn't matter how much I searched, I'd never have found it looking on my own
“I’m glad we can agree on one thing then,” She gives her hair one final brush, the lengthy ponytail cascading down her back as she heads out, ready to start her part. Itsuki reaches the halfway point of his song, the end of the third verse being sung by the time she steps out.
But now, everything's clear-- we just accept each other, nothing held back
Now that we know who we are, we can all see how much we've grown
The rest of the studio is empty, besides a few security guards; she easily walks out onto the streets of Shibuya. A barricade is already formed. The crowd that spots her behind the wall of tall, brawny security scream their heads off, each and every one of them that see her calling for her as they take photos. But Kiria keeps on track. She takes her time walking to the stage, Itsuki still singing the last parts of his song.
And to Itsuki’s credit the crowd loves him, the momentary shock in seeing Kiria washed away as they resume their shouts and cheers as he wraps up his set. “Ladies and gentlemen, Kiria Kurono!” He yells into the mic with all the energy he can muster in his usual shy, average body. He gestures to his right, walking off to the opposite end of the stage.
And as soon as Kiria reaches the stage —Kiria herself dead silent amidst the thunderous crowd— she refuses to say a word; her head facing the ground, the thunderous screams only become more booming as they expectantly wait, the uproarious crowd soon chanting her name. And their chanting soon devolves into a cacophony of screams and applause upon hearing the very first note from the guitar, Kiria beginning to sing.
But good things are unable to last unfortunately, the entire area dimming and graying as if all color were slowly being drained from the world, the once bright, big blue sky turning a fowl shade of gray as purple specters materialize. They start at the very tail ends of the crowd, only a single one arriving before numerous more of its comrades begin to appear along with it; putrid chains coil down from them, the blotchy essence of the enemy mirages channeled along with the metal as they descend onto the crowd. Which begins to slowly die down, elated cheering soon turning into mild screams of panic before the only sound from the sea of a crowd is a chorus of tired groans.
“Those bastards!” Touma is the first to rise up from his seat, already shifted into his Carnage form with Cain as naturally as breathing comes to him. Yashiro and Eleonora follow right behind Touma, Navarre and Virion summoned as well from the sudden onset of an Idolasphere.
“Wait! We should think at least! Oh…” Tsubasa trailing behind them, she’s the only one to notice the enemies’ crimson red cloaks, the group’s enemies the rare savage mirages —as Maiko had dubbed them the first time they were forced to narrowly escape them. But she continues on after them, transforming into her Carnage form with Caeda and riding atop her pegasus. “It’s my job to make sure nobody gets hurt,”
“Kiria. You know the plan!” Itsuki still by her side, he slashes at the abundance of ironclad knights swarming the concert. Watching over her the best that he can, Itsuki charges at them all. He stands between the spacious back of the concert stage and Kiria’s back, sword drawn as he swings at everything trying to get to the two of them.
The concert part of a coverup to draw the mirages, the scattered remnants of Medeus’ army easily fall for the bait.
Unlike the others, all of them fighting the small army of mirages, Kiria remains on stage. Transformed as well, she still continues her performance, herself the one to draw the short stick by being the one performing during the attack. But Kiria pours all her magic into her words nonetheless. She uses the months of planning to her favor, enchanting the soothing melody to lull the nearly numb crowd and beyond them as well, the honeyed lyrics swirling through Shibuya as Kiria does her best from the group’s practice and research into techniques to aid those less gifted with Performa and thus more susceptible to mirages.
The sounds of combat swish and swirl around her. But Kiria thinks nothing of it as Tharja continues to hold a protective barrier over her. The shield fizzes against the few axes and swords that strike at it with all their might, but it never once wavers, the shield withstanding all attempts to break it as Kiria remains encased in it. But the mirages soon turn their attention back away from her, their next best interest lying in the more enticing, hittable target currently fighting their leader.
And winning at that, Falchion’s piercing blade already having torn through the flesh of the enemy commander. Though Itsuki’s fatigued state —and the way he clutches his sword arm— shows that the strike was far from a free hit, the stalwart scales a difficult thing to pierce even with the divine blade. And the savage mirages loom over him, blackscale riders screeching with delight as they swirl over his head. And the ironclad knight and red barbarians for once simply wait for Itsuki to make the first move, the numerous mirages ready to strike.
A dragon beside him, the being towers over Itsuki as it roars. “This world, and everything on it, is ours...The ones who intruded were you humans!” The dragon known as Xemcel shouts, a wound already leaking with purple mist where Itsuki punctured it with Falchion. The dragon roars once more, black mist expunged from its mouth as it attacks Kiria with ferocious anger, all of its attention diverted into breaking her shield with its minions keeping Itsuki busy. The shield slowly deteriorates against the barrage. The once clear tinted shield begins to crack under the deluge of power, a faint purple hue taking hold of the barrier.
“You two get out of the way!” Yashiro plunges his sword into a red barbarian, the axe wielding enemy charging at Touma and Tsubasa’s lance using selves. The group of four take on stragglers as they attempt to regroup with Itsuki and Kiria. But the myriad of axe wielding ironclad knights and red barbarians makes the task difficult. And the airborne blackscale riders make it impossible for Tsubasa to fly ahead all on her own.
“I guess you all will finally realize how wonderful I am,” Eleonora claps her hands, her mirage appearing right before her side. “Virion, make yourself useful,” Stepping to the forefront, the group’s lone archer stands in front of her useful melee party members. She hands her bow out, the curved wooden design light in her hands.
“Of course, my fair lady,” Virion accepts the bow and launches himself into the air, bow taut and drawn. And in an instant, the dozens of enemies swiftly become only a mere handful; spectral corpses fall to the ground, littered with a flurry of arrows before disintegrating into nothingness.
Eleonora marches on. She has the other three deal with her leftovers. “See how easy it is? Now, pick up the pace,”
Most of his mirages are now nothing more than a memory with Eleonora’s backup. So Itsuki turns his attention to the enemy commander, the dragon refusing to budge from its spot despite the pools of miasma spilling forth from its body. The only being different from the rest of the common mirages, the slightly serpentine mage dragon is barely holding on, dozens of arrow wounds piercing through the scales on its back. It roars, expunging one final breath as it stares down at the ever singing Kiria, the last bit of her song for her numbed audience coming to close.
Then at least help me destroy it all---
My solitude, and all my pain
Reincarnation, Realization
Reincarnation I want to be reborn
And the barrier breaks, one crack surfacing for an instant before it shatters into countless immaterial pieces; Xemcel and the scattered remains of his mirages soon disappear along with it.
“Kiria!” Itsuki rushes over to her, kneeling beside her limp form.
“I’m,” She coughs, hacking out saliva and spit as if she were choking. “I’m fine,” Already out of her Carnage form, Kiria’s form has none of the debilitating weakness or injuries any of them would expect. She slowly picks herself off the floor, on all shaky fours.
In fact, as Itsuki examines her, he finds her figure a bit more… filled out. Even her voice sounds odd, her usual mildly deeper pitch —compared to Tsubasa and Eleonora at least— now an octave lower.
“Kiria?” Itsuki asks this time, looking down at the back of her head.
“Yeah? I said I’m fine, Itsuki,” Kiria looks at him this time. And while her usual angular face glares at him, her chin seems larger, broader, like her shoulders and the rest of her. Well, most of the rest. Itsuki turns away after catching himself staring at her breasts, well chest, her modest bust size now flattening out as her clavicles gain a bit more definition to them.
Kiria slowly loses her mildly hourglass figure achieved with her light pink corset. Both from her broadening torso and her loosening corset. The bit of musculature she has on her abdomen from trekking through numerous Idolaspheres and battling more mirages than she can keep count on follows with her during her transformation. Kiria slowly pulls down the zipper of her corset, letting out a groan upon getting a bit of relief. Her smaller chest appreciates the relief, Kiria’s flatter chest still having some definition to them as they begin to morph into the very beginning onset of pecs. The straps over Kiria’s chest begin to mildly strain. So she loosens the harness, hands reaching behind her broader, more defined back. Her arms start to look more toned; Kiria has a mild hint of musculature on her thicker arms. She even loosens the most minor of belts on her body, the small straps attached to her elbow length gloves adjusted to the loosest hole. She even grows a few inches taller, her garter belts straining against the taut fabric of her black pants before she adjusts them like everything else. Her thighs slowly broaden out as they begin to lose their once shapely figure.
“What are you embarrassed about, Itsuki? Never expected your senpai to get hit?”
“N-no. It’s just that…how do I put it” Itsuki finds it hard to keep his eyes off of Kiria. Itsuki continues to stare at Kiria, trying his best to not stare but unable to avert his eyes. He only manages to find a captivating interest in the ground once a slight but noticeable bulge appears in Kiria’s pants, the cut of pants not meant for such an extra appendage. “Well, you’re a man,”
Kiria simply laughs at him. He slugs him in the arm, much more force behind them with the added bit of muscle to Kiria’s own defined arms. “Same as the last time I checked. And I’d say the same about you if you weren’t acting so childish all of a sudden. We beat those mirages and this is how you are?” Kiria slowly stands back up, a hand on Itsuki’s shoulder for support. “Stand up,”
Itsuki graciously accepts Kiria’s hand. Where once he stood a single inch taller than Kiria, Itsuki is now the shorter of the two, a couple of inches of height separating the two of them. “You’re… you’re right, Kiria,”
“See. You’re just imagining things,” Kiria pats Itsuki’s head, his blue hair ruffled under his ever so soft, slightly larger hands. “Though you might want to get out of your Carnage form, Itsuki. The crowd is still a bit drowsy but the Idolashpere should slowly start dematerializing soon,”
“Yes. Of course,” The clumped up Performa stored inside him slowly dissipates, the aura spreading back throughout his body as he transforms back, his usual attire back on him. Afterwards, he pulls out his phone. And typing from the expertise of dealing with everyone’s spam of texts and reaction images —and from sending his very own back at them— Itsuki hastily adds the rest of the group to a new chat. “MEET ME IN FRONT OF UZUME ASAP SOMETHING HAPPENED TO KIRIA HE’S PERFECTLY FINE BUT IT’S SERIOUS!” He texts without once looking away from Kiria. “*SHES” He texts immediately after.
“Wait, something feels wrong,” Kiria feels himself. His hands roam over his body, a minor frown formed as he tsks in irritation. Kiria looks down at himself. Inspecting every inch of himself, the fabric of his clothes shift and strain with them already being a bit tight at rest. He feels up his thicker arms, grabbing the newfound heft of them. He presses a hand on his chest, fingers squeezing his trim yet defined pecs that have a bit more definition to them than Itsuki and Yashiro’s but less than Touma’s own defined musculature that comes from a mildly dedicated training routine along with the natural strength that comes from lugging around stage props. Kiria even feels his ass, the less flabby part of himself the only thing to have lost a bit of size relative to the rest of himself as they don’t strain the rest of his outfit like every other inch of himself.
“Yes! You finally realized Kiria, you-”
“Ahhhhh…” Locks of his cool dark green-blue hair sway in the freedom of the wind. Kiria runs his fingers through his extremely long, nearly knee length hair. His mess of hair looks more unkempt as before, bits and ends of hair splayed to the side in a slightly messy but still well manicured style. “I hate wearing my hair up. Don’t know how I managed to be convinced of that,”
“Ah. Well, I’ll be right back. Just stay here in case the crowd wakes up early. So just be ready to perform,” Itsuki holds his hands up at Kiria before rushing off and leaving him alone.
He finds Touma, Tsubasa, and Eleonora right where he asked them to be.
Touma is the first to speak. “You didn’t have to fix the typo, man. What happened to Kiria?” Eleonora and Tsubasa stay quiet, waiting for Itsuki to speak.
“It wasn’t a typo,” Itsuki explains the entire situation to the three of them, starting off by mentioning the strange mirage attack before divulging into Kiria’s transformation into a guy —leaving out the more saucy details left grabbed in his mind, Itsuki’s brain replaying the scene with a morbid curiosity he doesn’t quite wish to explore in such a crowded area— and finally ending the short retelling with Kiria’s obliviousness to his current state.
“Wait! So Kiria…” Tsubasa holds her hands to her chest. Tears well up in her eyes, the fat, salty drops threatening to spill at any second. “She’s a guy nowwwww,” She wails, her chance with her now feeling lost.
“Kiria may be fine. But now’s not the time, Tsubasa,” Eleonora chastises. Though she herself seems a bit downcast, the two women having their own crush on Kiria,
“Yes. She seems perfectly fine but while we still have the ability with the Idolashpere temporarily active, I know we can reverse this with your help,” Itsuki smiles ahead at the group.
Eleonora pushes back, jabbing Itsuki in the chest with her manicured finger, not a single scratch on it somehow. “Me? What, you think I know all these healing spells just because I’m a girl? How s-”
“E-Eleonora, Itsuki was looking at me…” Tsubasa meekly says, standing right beside where Eleonora once did.
“Oh…”
A hand on Tsubasa’s back, Touma stands right beside her. “C’mon Tsubasa. You got this! You always patch us back to full health. Just think of this as another little status for you to cure. No reason for you to worry!” He pushes her forward with a couple of hearty pats on her back.
“We believe in you Tsubasa. We know you can do it,” Itsuki similarly cheers her on.
“U-understood!” Tsubasa rushes over to the concert stage to reclaim her possible chance —no matter how slim and unlikely she is to act on her own feelings— with Kiria.
Kiria is still right where Itsuki left him after all this time.
And Yashiro is beside the man already. Yashiro glares at Kiria, still standing a couple of inches above him instead of the nearly half a foot difference from before the transformation of his newfound male senpai. “Hmmph. You’ve gotten taller, I see,” Yashiro plainly comments, as if commenting on the weather. The faint tinge of red on his exposed face betrays his glare. Yashiro is back to his normal appearance, Yashiro all too aware of the slowly fading essence of the Idolasphere.
“Forgive me, Kiria. But I need to cast some healing magic. Just to make sure everyone is okay,” Back in her Carnage form, Tsubasa stands almost an entire head shorter than Kiria now. She leans a bit down, hands over Kiria’s body. “Well, if she doesn’t remember anything and she’ll be back to normal, then maybe…” Tsubasa places her hands on Kiria’s chest, her fingernails giving the pecs a light squeeze. And Tsubasa feels nothing stir in her own heart. She puts all concentration into turning Kiria back into a woman.
Eleonora speaks up for Kiria, the entire groups’ senpai awkwardly chuckling. “You can’t just harass Kiria, Tsubasa! When we get back, I’m learning healing spells if you’re not going to honor our truce,” She threatens.
“Ladies, don’t fight over me,” Kiria laughs, smiling as Tsubasa and Eleonora fawn over him. “I thought I told you, I’m only into men,”
The two women go wide-eyed; both of their brains ding with enlightenment, Kiria never once showing an ounce of interest in men before his transformation.
“Tsubasa hurry up with those spells!”
“I’m trying!” Tsuabsa cries. “Nothing’s working, not even amrita,” And Tsubasa’s outfit slowly dissipates, her wedding dress for her performance appearing back on her.
Yashiro interrupts the two of them, clearing his throat. “Why don’t you two wait at Uzume while Kiria finishes the rest of his set. The crowd should be waking up soon,” Yashiro gestures with his hand, done with them and shooing them off like a pair of inconsolable children throwing a tantrum.
“Sorry,” Kiria nervously chuckles. He waves them off as Touma and Itsuki join the two men. “I’ll make sure to put on a good show at the very least,”
Touma and Itsuki say nothing at the failed fix. “Itsuki and I are going to keep watch just in case some more mirages attack,” Touma gives Kiria a cheeky grin as he takes Itsuki with him in a headlock.
“Y-yes. Good luck, Kiria,” Itsuki nervously waves. His face is red, his complexion a positively bright shade of pink as he goes to sit in the small but fenced seating area right next to the stage.
“Good luck. Not that you need it,” Yashiro shrugs as he joins the other men.
“Private viewers, huh? I guess I really do need to do my best then. But, alright,” Emboldened from his transformation, Kiria wastes no time in flirting, Kiria no longer the brightest rose in the garden, the prickly adornment too beautiful to be plucked like all the rest.
“Alright Shibuya! Let me hear you make some noise!” He wastes no time in getting the crowd ready, Kiria jumping on stage in beat to get the crowd pumping. To the magic’s credit, not a single soul in the crowd utters a word about Kiria’s new self. The adoring crowd shows their enthusiasm over Kiria with their posters and merch. Even those are modified by the magic, pictures and drawings of Kiria miraculously changed to reflect his current form. They all continue to adore him all the same as he starts singing, Kiria moving onto the next song in his set, The Labyrinth, as if the mirage attack never happened.
The instant Kiria begins to sing, his body fills with the usual infliction of magic, a bit of purple haze imperceptible to himself and to the entire crowd. Kiria sings as if nothing is happening; he continues to slowly walk across the stage, looking out to the uproarious crowd as the magic begins to swell within him anew.
The three men watching from the side keep their newfound shock between the three of them as the mirage’s spell continues to work its magic, Kiria still transforming once more. They all watch with bated breath as Kiria begins to expand, his new masculine figure beginning to look like a stick as he grows.
The growth is as slow as the beginning of Kiria’s transformation, but the extra bit of poundage he starts to gain becomes readily apparent on his lithe, mildly built frame. His corset is the first to struggle against the budding bit of fat on him, like bread rising in the oven. Kiria’s corset already having a difficult time adjusting to his slightly broader, more squarish figure as a man, the extra blubber from his swelling midsection does it no favors. The zipper slowly falls down bit by bit with every few pounds or so, his flat stomach turning into the very onset of a beginner's belly. Until the zipper gets caught from his tummy, the very little give of the corset visibly bulging from the visible swell of his stomach, the bottoms flabs of it forced at an awkward angle with his newfound love handles, the plump little rolls of fat more fitting on a perhaps a little too indulgent individual rather than Kiria’s once slim self. His budding breasts which he once lost begin to appear once more through the added helping of lard being slathered onto his figure. Kiria’s chest doesn’t hold their former voluptuousness. They instead have much more sag to them, the two puffy moobs much smaller than his waist. Kira’s ass and thighs swell up much the same, thighs becoming slowly engorged as they widen, his pants beginning to similarly strain like the rest of his clothes. His pants curve outward as his rear does, Kiria regaining his shapely ass with a bit of extra heft to it, his ass less defined with his extra pudge.
And yet no one says a single word as Kiria grows bigger, his clothes struggling to hold onto their dear life. Kiria even slowly begins to grow taller, a couple extra inches of height added to him as he surpasses six feet tall, Kiria now the tallest of the three as his pants begin to rise up his ankles.
It takes Itsuki clearing his throat to regain his own attention, Kiria’s corset busting clean off after a rather sudden burst of flab on his gut. “Shouldn’t we do something? I mean Kiria probably…” Itsuki purses his lips.
“Just look at the brute. Do you really think he’s not enjoying himself?” The flushed Yashiro has his legs crossed, one svelte thigh resting over his groin. His fingers are clenched around the silky fabric of his black trousers.
Kira flaunts his extra bit of bulk, one hand testing the heft of his belly as he lifts it and then gives it a bit of a taunting smack; he throws the crowd a cheeky smile all the while. The underbit of his gut is exposed. A tiny portion of the smooth, creamy, and flabby skin peeking out with the taut undergarment for the corset struggling to cater to Kiria’s larger, growing size. Though Kiria’s added girth doesn’t stay so soft as patches of fuzzy hair begin to appear on him. Especially underneath his navel, a small but decent patch of pitch black hair for a happy trail suddenly on him as well. His voice grows gruffer as he keeps on singing, the pitch going deeper and deeper.
“It’s just the spell!” Touma half-shouts half-whispers. He leans forward in his seat unlike the other two, but his face is just as red as the others, Touma covering most of his face with his hand. Besides his entranced eyes. “R-right? C’mon Itsuki. you were there when it happened, so tell us already!”
Kiria easily tears through his pants. They last very little longer against the surging tide of mass. Kiria’ thighs now easily surpass their former size, the two meaty legs looking more akin to those of a practicing sumo than a rising popstar. All Kiria has left to show for his pants are tatters of black fabric that litter the stage as well as his legs.
“I don’t know. I mean, we can’t be affected since we remember what happened before this, right? I’m sure at least someone in the crowd would have to have screamed by now if they knew this was happening now,” He turns his head back to the screaming, adoring crowd and sees the same exact merchandise as before, all of it the same besides the morphing depictions of Kiria.
Yashiro hums in agreement, sagely nodding his head as if he has anything to add to Itsuki’s statement. “Kitria’s gaining some muscle too,” No bit of Kiria’s body goes unexplored, no single portion unlovingly admired. Both from Yashiro and the ever-excited crowd.
Both Itsuki and Touma look to where Yashiro points, Kiria’s thighs.
His thighs already large, the two meaty limbs soon become absolutely positive in crushing another man in between. Both from the sheer heft of them but also from the bit of muscle that begins to appear and form on them, the loose, saggy fat slowly but surely firming up as well as they still keep on slowly growing. Not only that, but Kiria’s flabby, oh so smackable gut —which looks a bit too empty to all three party members— also gains some definition to it. Out with the old and in with the new, the fat accumulating on Kiria’s body soon becomes mingled with muscle. His gut continues to swell outward, his large belly bulging outward as if he drank nothing but beer.
“Whatever,” Touma’s ass never leaves his seat. He reclines back into the plush chair, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s better that he gain some muscle. That way, he’s not a useless blob,” He taps his foot to whatever beat that manages to irrelevantly stay in his brain with the growing man in front of him demanding all of his attention.
And Kiria’s figure demands all of Yashiro’s attention as well. Back as hunched as ever, he looks about ready to give himself a permanent hunch. “Tch. As if,” Though Touma’s words hang heavy in his fried mind.
“That wouldn’t have been too bad, would it?” The ringing laughter comes out like none before it. Itsuki painfully hot in the face, he tugs at his collar with a single finger.
Though the men have little reason to complain about Kiria’s unexpected turn of events. Not with his arms looking as capable as snapping them in half as they once did slinging spells at mirages, the former looking even more simple of a task. The heaping layer of fat on Kiria’s arms refuses to betray the unbridled strength beneath them. His arms soon surpass the largest biceps any of the three have seen, Kiria’s thick, virile arms wider than his former thighs; they easily surpass the waists of the three men watching. Or even the entire crowd as Kiria’s longtime fans begin to evolve with the times —and evolve with his girth— a choice few people in the crowd matching Kiria’s extra heft with a bit of flab and some muscle here and there. Though none of them even come close to Kiria’s large, beefy size. Much less his growing stature as Kiria soon surpasses being an incredulous seven feet tall as Kiria continues to grow like a beanstalk. The stage slowly begins to creak as Kiria takes ponderous steps on it, every part of the stage giving its own feedback on his size.
“Do you have any idea when it’s going to end at the very least?” Yashiro finally asks a relevant question, done simply gawking and admiring for a short while before turning his attention back to Kiria. He presses a hand to his lips. The others’ responses go in one ear and swiftly out the other, his attention firmly placed on Kiria’s growing firmness.
“Yeah, Itsuki. Though you clearly don’t seem to mind when it ends,” Touma bumps him in the arm, one arm slugged around his shoulders.
“BWOOORRRP,” Kiria belches directly into the mic, the ear shattering belch loud enough to rival the wyverns they’ve dealt with and loud enough to finally remove the attention off the increasingly creaking stage. Having paused the song with his belch, he catches the crowd’s attention, a booming and resounding applause followed, it definitely catches Itsuki and Touma’s attention, the entire crowd of Shibuya captivated by Kiria’s size like a blue ribbon winning prized hog. Staring at Kiria’s face, the massive wall of a man —that’s now a towering dangerously eight foot, nearly nine foot adonis— has some facial hair to show for it, a small bit of messy scruff for a beard as if he hadn’t shaved for a week or two. His hair looks more fitting on a rockstar than his old self, the loose, flowing locks an untamed mess of hair that manages to still cascade all the way down to his ass even as he grows taller, the concert stage looking more and more cramped as Kiria fills out the massive platform.And underneath his face are his pecs, the two massively sized brawny tits jutting forward and obstructing his vision. They also obstruct everyone else's vision as they command awe and attention. Kiria’s broad chest resembles more a bulging table than anything on a properly sized person; his squeezable, grabbable chest is slathered with a thick patch of hair centered in between the two fat tits unlike the bit of dusting on the rest of his immense figure. The large patch of black hair covers most of his large pecs, the outer tufts of hair coming close to his nipples. Kiria’s tits begin to press up against his tree trunk sized arms, both parts of his grandeur that look ready to break any piece of furniture starting to struggle with mobility with so much of himself to go around. So much of Kiria to get an eyeful of, Itsuki and Touma don’t even think to look down on Kiria’s body. Yashiro gets enough of a look of Kiria’s bulging manhood for all three of them. It takes Kiria finally breaking the twelve foot tall threshold, Kiria now twice as tall as them, for Touma and Itsuki to finally notice; the two of them immediately do their best to not gawk, nervous glances to the side and staring at the floor only working for so long before they can refuse no longer.
Touma loses his embarrassment first. His high pitched and long length whistle is lost amongst Kiria’s groan muddled singing. “Damn. I guess it was a good thing you didn’t stop the spell, huh Itsuki?”
“I…” Itsuki hurriedly covers his crotch with his jacket. “I mean… yeah but still…” Itsuki’s eyes refuse to leave Kiria’s growing dick.
For all the magic’s little worth in keeping Kiria’s clothes adequately equipped for such a massive brick wall of a man, it does manage to keep the small strip of fabric as something akin to clothing, his underwear the sole surviving piece on him. He keeps up with performance even as he reaches the tailend of his set and by extension the concert. Through the effects of the spell, Kiria now wears a dark black jockstrap as deemed adequate with so much fabric needed to create that and that alone for Kiria. The strips of fabric deserve a promotion from the bulk they hold back, Kiria’s swelling manhood pushed forward by the taut, ever so revealing fabric. Kiria’s growing gut begins to press into his dick, the carpet for a happy trail resting and blending into the jockstrap. His thighs similarly struggle against his large dick, the size of it when coupled with Kiria’s still growing stature easily beginning to surpass every single crowd member’s entire body. Though that doesn’t stop Kiria from singing. He grabs and adjusts his junk, Kiria needing to pull up the dangerously low jockstrap that struggles to withstand the weight of his package.
Easily pushing four times as tall as the next tallest person in Shibuya, the stage finally gives away underneath the massive mountain of a man. Kiria neither screams nor panics. He only rests a hand on his massive car crushing musclegut as he lets out a pleased huff. “Thanks for coming -buuhhoourrp- to Shhibuya everyone!”
“Encore! Encore! Encore!” The entire crowd screams, everyone jumping as they demand more. Those in front try their best to reach and pick up as many scattered pieces of the stage as they can.
Kiria rubs the back of his head —albeit struggling to reach back there with his biceps squishing against his face as well as the lack of flexibility he has all around. His hairy armpit is visible to the entire crowd, a mess of camera flashes taken from every angle for everyone to post online and gawk over like they do with every concert. “Sorry everyone but our staff really needs time to clean up this mess,” He pats his belly, letting out another resounding belch. “And I really gotta fill up this tank,”
And eventually, the crowd slowly begins to dissipate, the countless staff members they have for such an event safely getting everyone out in an orderly line.
Kiria’s three watching party members go back on the ruined stage, rubble kicked around as they approach him.
Having now stopped growing, Kiria crouches down to face the three men standing in the tatters of his destruction. His outfit is completely gone with all of it in tatters. All that remains of it is a skimpy jockstrap that only pushes his enormous third leg forward. “What’s the matter, Yashiro? You’ve always been jealous of my size, but I mean, so is everyone else,” Kiria comments as Yashiro glares at him. The glare is no less softened as Kiria practically shoves his dick right in front of his face, Yashiro craning his neck the best he can to look up at Kiriia’s face and not the hill for a dick or the overhanging cliff for tits.
“Nothing,” He continues to glare up at Kiria despite his crimson red face.
“You said you were hungry, right? So c’mon already. I thought you wanted to fill up that tank of yours,” Touma wastes no time with pleasantries. Standing right next to Kiria, Touma is nothing more than a molehill to a mountain. He doesn’t even come up to the lowest bits of Kiria’s gut—even with Kiria crouching down the best that can— and with Kiria’s dick right in front of him, the massive manhood is longer than Touma is tall. And more than three times as wide as Touma rests a hand on it.
“Damn right I am. Come on, Itsuki. There should be some food waiting for me at Uzume,” Kiria stands at his full height. If not aware of Kiria’s predicament, the three would believe the world to be ending, all three men eclipsed in his enormous shadow as Kiria blots out the sun from where he stands, and the buildup of tremors as Kiria moves around very nearly knock them flat on their asses. His face is obscured from the three of them, his height making it a difficult task to bask in all of his glory; his jutting chest makes it flat out impossible, Kiria also unable to look down at them with his pecs in the way. Though his wobbling musclegut would do the same. He takes slow lumbering steps through the designated walkway just for him.
“Wait! You can’t possibly…” Rushing back around, Itsuki’s words are already useless with Kiria unable to hear such a tiny man. And his protests die down once he sees Uzume’s transformed state, the skyscraper-like building taking up the entire block now. All for Kiria most likely, the enormous man requiring the space.
Touma already follows behind Kiria. He has to run just to somewhat keep up with him, still lagging behind as he struggles to keep his balance from the tremors of Kiria’s labored walking.
“Just hurry it up, Itsuki. Clearly everything Kiria needs to be refit for his new identity will mold to it. So we might as well get used to it,” Yashiro beckons him forward, following behind the two men. He barely hides his near speed walk pace while he attempts to hastily catch up to them.
The two of them enter the much, much, much smaller entrance of the two, the regular door akin to a mousehole next to the broad, expansive entrance built just for Kiria. Which he even struggles to fit into, all three getting a view of his exposed ass wedged against the edges of the doorway as he tries to fit himself past the door despite the attempts from his gut and dick pressed up against the other end of the doorway try to stop him before he goes in at an angle. Which is difficult for him with his limited flexibility. But he lets out a contented groan once he’s inside. Kiria is at least cognizant of his size. He puts little pressure on the wall, a swarm of memories swirling in his brain of him breaking enough things. But Itsuki and Yashiro find themselves back inside Uzume just fine; only Touma and Kiria are waiting for them along with enough food to seemingly feed an entire army. Or enough just for one greedy, massive Kiria.
Only one room in the newly sized Uzume is able to withstand Kiria’s new bigger body. All the other rooms are far too small for him to even squeeze a fist inside. He waits inside the former waiting room now turned into a dual feature vocal training room and waiting room. The room is blisteringly cold as well. Kiria’s body heat radiates all around him, the confined area a sweltering sauna if not for the frigid temperature the air conditioning system set in place just for Kiria. And to Kiria, the room feels perfectly fine to him despite the cramped conditions. Kiria barely manages to squeeze inside the snug building despite being made with his own enormity in mind. The upper wisps of his hair brush against the ceiling, even with Kiria slightly bent over to make some extra room. He has more than plenty of room in the other dimensions until he sits down, the walls shaking and trembling regardless of how gentle he tries to be with his movement. He uses one end of the wall as his personal backrest. His broad, powerful back takes up most of the width of it. Kiria’s jutting shoulder blades make the most contact with it, his slightly doughy yet broad shoulders also pressed up against it. The outermost curves of his biceps —the widest circumference of them akin to an entire car— chafe against the walls of the room. They also press up against his bulging pecs, the two oversized tits plumped up with copious amounts of lard and muscle just like the rest of his body. The two jutting breasts obscure most of Kiria’s face with him leaning back. And his traps make it difficult for him to shift his head to look around him. Kiria also takes up most of the entire length of the room despite not even fully laying down, his feet pressing up against the other end of the room; the robust, sturdy walls already have a few cracks in them from other days. His bulging thighs rest comfortably against the floor. At least his right thigh which Kiria has almost fully extended, the straightened out leg pressed up against his crotch. He has his left knee bent up to help him a bit with his balance; his knee comes far above the three smaller men’s heads. His left thigh presses up against his gut, the large ball of fat pushed a bit back against the thigh big enough to seat all three men on it. His gut also looks more than capable of seating all three of them and many more, the jutting curve of it deep enough from the sheer size and heft of it despite how his powerful chest rests and presses atop it. Kiria’s gut still has some sag to it despite his gained musculature; it rests on his bulging dick still struggling to stay inside his jockstrap, the hill of his dick taking most of the weight of his gut. Kiria’s bulge rests on the ground, the jockstrap finally having some relief, the fabric visibly worn out from how stretched the tent-like clothing is.
“Time for the best part, fan food always tastes great,” Kiria makes no motion to move himself, rather comfortable in his spot. And neither do the three men, all suddenly embarrassed as they remain glued to their spots. “Well? What are you all waiting for? You guys always love feeding me,” Kiria burps. He rests a hand on his firm gut, rubbing the grumbling gut that’s shattered a few windows in his brand new memories before Fortuna Entertainment became properly equipped with handling his immense size.
“Hmmph. If you insist on being a glutton then,” Yashiro moves first. Very little room for him to freely stand in, he shuffles around the bulky, sinewy thighs to reach the overburdened table filled with food. Yashiro is practically stuck between Kiria’s thighs and the wall, the cramped fit especially warm with him practically pushed up against Kiria. But he finds himself reaching for as much as he can possibly hold with just two hands.
He also finds Touma right behind him, over eager in loading the provided serving trays with as much meat he can grab. Almost all of the food he grabs is some meat dish or another. “Hurry it up. I thought you were eager to feed him,” Touma hands Yashiro another serving tray, laughing as the older man seems ready to swat him with it.
“I’ll-” The ground trembles underneath them, another earthquake suddenly striking as Kiria’s gut grumbles. Yashiro comes crashing onto Kiria’s immense thigh, his head not even surpassing the upper crest of the meaty, powerful limb. Not a single piece of food ends up wasted on the ground thankfully.
The two men have their trays ready. The four trays alone would be an overwhelming amount of food for the two of them and Itsuki, but for Kiria alone, the food looks underwhelmingly insufficient.
The ground shakes once more with a small but deep gurgle. “That should be enough for an appetizer for now,” Kiria holds out his hand for the two men, the back of his hand resting on the floor with his palm open. “It’s more fun feeling you all crawl on me, but I need food. Now,” Kiria belches, the walls themselves shaking now as he rests his other hand on his gut. He also gives it a couple squeezes. That and his tits, his biceps struggling much more with the latter.
And Yashiro and Touma accept Kiria’s hand. Touma stands straight up, smirking up at Kiria the best he can with so much bulk in the way. Yashiro sits down, his legs dangling off the edge of Kiria’s palm.
“Hurry it up, Itsuki! I’m starving over here,” The walls themselves shake and tremble this time from his mere voice alone, his voice slightly raised. His rumbling gut quaking the floor doesn’t help matters, his gut almost resting on the floor if not for his massive endowment in the way.
Itsuki rests a hand on the wall, everything moving around him. Looking up at Kiria with his face just as flushed as the very first few moments of seeing him grow, he only sighs. But he obediently goes over to the table filled with a buffet of food —after adjusting his tight pants and a couple of deep, flustered breaths. And he joins the other two men on Kiria’s hands, Itsuki kneeling down on it in hopes of not falling over and spilling everything.
Three pairs of eager feet step down on Kiria’s body, Touma and Itsuki resting on his broad, massive traps that resemble a sidewalk to the two of them while Yashiro makes himself comfortable sitting atop the massive overhang of Kiria’s bulging chest. “See how easy that was. Feels good to have such handy little helpers,” Kiria expectantly opens his mouth. And he accepts every bit of food that they toss into his eager maw.
Yashiro treats him like a garbage disposal, chucking entire meals into his mouth without thinking an ounce over it. “You better hurry it up, there’s still way too much food,” He even throws a bit of food once Kiria closes his mouth, Kiria ending up with a bit of a mess smattered over his lips. And he ends up quickly reprimanded each time he does it, Kiria using a single finger to press into him, holding him squarely in place despite his flustered protests.
“Yeah, man! If you eat it fast enough, then it’ll still be early enough for us to get you some more. You’re gonna need it, right?” Touma standing much closer to Kiria’s face, he still has to toss the equivalent of buckets of food to his gaping mouth, his experience in throwing spears and javelins leaving him well equipped for the job. Kiria only hums in agreement, urging Touma to hurry it up as Touma greedily lists all of Kiria’s favorites, the same as before.
Itsuki is far more reserved than the other two. Though still being willingly complicit in the situation has him looking rather strange to begin with. “Just make sure you take your time, Kiria. You might get a stomach ache,” He coos and worries over, slowly feeding Kiria his favorite foods, his assumption of his personal favorites not having changed a bit a correct one. Kiria only plucks him up and places him closer, clear in his hunger despite how he carefully pets Itsuki for his fretting.
Kiria simply keeps on accepting the food, none of them finding the situation of feeding a twenty plus foot tall behemoth of a man strange at all. “I can’t wait for the next concert,”
Hey hey! I saw your request are open! So well I have this idea! Like Switch bodies
Eli/wood wants to training to have the same body type of Hec/tor, and he helps him, unfornately Hec/tor starts to gain weight since Eliwood gives him food as a gift for the help on His training and Eli/wood starts to became muscular
Omg the like only fe7 request I got ajdbjjnbsj. I just replayed the game and like I already want to replay it again lol so went a little crazy writing this. I wanted them to not be like that big but whoops my brain betrayed my.
Hopefully you enjoy it cause had a lot of fun writing it!
Warning: This is a fetish story!
"So uhh, why do I have to apologize again?" Hector grins at his husband. The cheerful smile is tinged with embarrassment. Unsure as to what he did would cause his husband to be upset, Hector still listens to Eliwood. He hugs Eliwood from behind. Hector rests some of his weight on Eliwood as he nearly drapes himself over his shorter, more petite husband. Hector presses his face that begins to grow a beard with Hector finally letting it grow out against Eliwood, his neck finding a comfortable perch on Eliwood’s shoulder.
"I don't appreciate being fawned over and reminded of my own weight, no matter how temporary it is," Eliwood’s arms are trapped from Hector’s embrace. Despite all his grumbling and minor complaints, Eliwood’s face mirrors his husband’s rosy, happy expression.
The Continent of Elibe’s peace seems secure after the duo’s personal adventure. And with the two’s sudden, albeit expected to everyone around them, marriage, the more rational, calm Eliwood has especially enjoyed the peace over the years. Taking care of two young children has also eased Eliwood into indulging himself with extra snacks and sweets to help lighten the workload between it all. His appearance changed much like his husband, the married pair’s face more wizened and angular, Eliwood now has his hair parted to the side. Elwood only has the slightest amount of scruff on his chin, still unwilling to grow a beard. But his figure pays the price for his indulgent relaxing years that come about with Hector by his side now. Gone is the slim waist built up by years of sword fighting that came with a faint yet visible set of abs. Eliwood now sports a small tummy. The minor yet not insignificant amount of pudge is still able to be easily hidden behind tunics and vests. But behind closed doors—or during Hector’s more brazen moments—Hector makes it a point to appreciate the minor bit of heft that Eliwood sports. Especially when Hector is almost unchanged despite the time of peace. The already muscular man seems even larger by a decent amount, his chest even border and more defined by the way it presses against shirts alongside larger, more rounded biceps.
“Oh come on!” Hector laughs uproariously. His embrace only tightens as he sees Eliwood’s adorable pout, expression so rare to see on him. “But if you’re serious, then come work out with me. Our territory will be more than fine if we take some extra alone time together,”
Eliwood mulls over the offer. He closes his eyes and rests his head back against the side of Hector’s, his much more fit husband trying his best to not get hair in his mouth. “Fine then. Some minor exercise won’t hurt me. I will have to repay you,” Eliwood eventually responds after hearing Hector about to mutter up some complaint about his slightly longer hair.
“Hah! You have nothing to repay me for. This will be great for me too,”
“I distinctly recall you always preferring my food compared to whatever you had-”
“Oh come on already,” Hector grabs Eliwood by the hand.
“Wait. Where are we going?”
Hector’s pace stays the same. “To train, of course. No better time to start than right now. And I’m not going easy on you. Otherwise, Marcus and Oswin will kill us if they saw us slacking,”
Picking up his own pace, Eliwood walks by his husband’s side. “Fine then. I’ll take this as seriously as you do then,”
And Eliwood does. The workout routine Hector submits him to is far from comparable to the grueling, constant training with Marcus back when he was younger but Hector is nothing but a strict teacher. For every set of pushups, deadlifts, or any sort of rigorous exercises, Hector always demands another from Eliwood. And regardless of what event they have planned for the day, child rearing and managing the massive territory that is Ostia-Pherae making time a luxury, Hector always makes it a point to fit some exercise into their day—such as training after setting up camp when on the road, Hector always making some spectacle wherever he goes without even meaning to like always. Despite any sort of complaints or even curses Eliwood has during Hector’s more strict lessons, he shoves them down and complies. Especially when he sees his fruitful results after some time.
He keeps his remarks to himself. Always humble, the now larger, stronger Marquess first receives a comment on his new appearance when in Sacae.
“I might have to start worrying about seeing two Hector’s next time you visit,” Lyn seated next to Eliwood, she wastes precious few moments of her free time. She sits on the ground as she works on her new project of crafting her very own bow after being taught by Rath, his self learned techniques aided by the further instruction of Kutolah’s elders.
Unable to help himself, his mind wandering back to when the two had first met so many years ago, Eliwood gives her a small shove on the shoulder as soon as she places her knife down to take a swig of water. “I’m happy that you think I’ll look even better in the future,”
“You’ve filled out. You look like you’d be better off swinging an axe instead of a sword,”
Eliwood chuckles at the praise. Not quite used to such words from anyone besides Hector, he holds back his instinct to slightly hunch. Looking down at himself, Lyn’s complement clearly holds true. Getting a first look at his chest, Eliwood’s defined chest juts out far more than it ever did. Not quite on the level as the ragtag group’s larger men such as Dart or Geitz, much less the behemoth that is Hawkeye, Eliwood’s respectable, sizable pecs manage to push against the fabric of his tunic. The two broad pecs are outlined by the slightly taut fabric.His abdomen has plenty of breathing room from the draped fabric. Though the slightest bit of his chiseled abs peak underneath when he lifts his arms high up enough. Eliwood’s biceps are similarly muscular. His arms had already been toned from when he took up training with lances, but the larger arms show off the time and effort Eliwood has put into working out. His thighs paint an even brighter picture, the combined experience from horse riding and Eliwood’s own focus into his thighs, the two powerful legs even strain the fabric of his pants. His thighs are much more built compared to before. His thighs are now wider than when he was at his pudgiest. Even Eliwood’s calves have extra definition to them, both of them pushing out further than before. And his shapely, firm bubble butt that Hector gives plenty of attention to like the rest of his more fit, muscular figure.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, then,” Eliwood responds with a smile. His hands rest freely at his side.
Lyn’s back and joints crack as she stands up and stretches, sitting on the floor clearly tiring after being in such a position for long enough to finish with the rough shape of her bow. “With how you stood up in your seat, you already did,” She glances around the open area. Spotting a small trio with bundles of hair like her and her friends, she smiles at the sight, a myriad of the older tribe members fawning over Lilina and Roy the same as they do Sue.
Eliwood stands up right behind Lyn. He refuses to indulge her teasing, instead smiling and waving to the children who make no motion to join their parents. “Should we go look for our husbands then? Hector isn’t one to pass on dinner,” Eliwood deflects Lyn’s comments.
“I’ve noticed,” Lyn laughs but still readies her sword to check on the men still hunting.
Eliwood follows behind her. “I can say the same about Rath,”
Eliwood’s comment immediately shuts her up, Lyn only able to let out a small snort at the mention. Any rebuttal she might have has to wait for later as Hector and Rath finally return with a heavy haul from their hunt.
The two’s remarks over the other’s husbands rings true as the two chubby men come back.
Rath the smaller of the two, his lithe form is framed by a soft, pudgy layer of flab that encompasses his entire body. A sharp distinct jawline like most Sacaen men is replaced by a more rounded face from his softened cherubic cheeks and the beginning onset of a double chin. His trim waist is no more. The firm abdomen is covered in a small yet generous helping of lard. Rath’s stomach now presses up against his attire. The small amount of belly flab on him is now completely undeniable with his tight clothes. Rath’s flabby biceps are hidden underneath his loose sleeves, but the softened, widened forearms show off his extra weight along with his thicker thighs and slightly rounded out rear.
Eliwood’s appreciation of a more…rounded out form compared to Lyn, is much more apparent on Hector’s doughy body. Hector still sports most of the muscle mass he always had. Though, the heft of his figure is more pronounced by all the flab that swaddles his bulk. Hector’s defined chest has a more rounded, soft appearance to it from all of Eliwood’s food. His chest is even larger now from the coupled fat and muscle on his tits. His new shirt still struggles to deal with his breasts, the plunging neckline nestled in between his hairy tits. His shirt also has to unfortunately contend with Hector's gut. His broad, defined waist with a chiseled six pack and jutting v-line is no more. All of his muscles are completely washed away by a pile of lard. The large blubbery mass of fat that almost resembles a barrel hidden underneath his clothes barely manages to be contained. Hector’s arms are still incredibly thick. The two massive arms still show off every bit of strength left in them despite being swaddled in flab, the two thick biceps looking even stronger now. Hector’s fat biceps ever so slightly press against his soft barrel chest. His meaty thighs are larger than a person’s waist, each flabby thigh now rubbing against each other with each heavy step Hector takes. His thighs even visibly jiggle from his steps, though the motion is reserved for Eliwood, Hector’s thick trousers able to properly cover up the girth of his lower half. Even Hector’s softened ass that only holds a fraction of its form from the extra weight that lovingly accumulates on his backside manages to stay securely clothed by his pants. Though the waistband digs into his waistline; Hector's stomach bulges even more than usual and comes dangerously close to being exposed. Accompanying all of Hector’s added weight is his even more filled out beard; the hair framing his flabby jawline makes his face look even rounder.
Coming from a successful hunt, Hector is the more tired one of the two. Despite the amount of muscles that remain, the musculature is clearly leftover from all his time from working out long ago, the bulky man’s stamina much less than it used to be with how he supervises Eliwood’s workout instead of joining him.
Thankfully, neither men have to carry their haul for much longer, others taking them to clean and prepare.
“Well, I’m glad to see the food smells as good as you described it,” Hector gives Rath a heart pat on the back.
And the stocky man keeps his steady footing. “The tribe prepared a special feast for you two.”The reason being for the two taking care of Lyn is something Rath keeps to himself.
“Thank you. We’ll make-”
“This isn’t Lycia! Stop being so formal,” Lyn pulls at her married friends, the two men willingly obliging her and trying everything she suggests throughout the night.
But eventually, the two’s short time in Sacae eventually comes to a close with their territory needing to be led. And despite the two’s busy schedule and Hector no longer joining in on their training sessions, Eliwood still makes it a point to stick to his routine. Both of them. Working out an enjoyable pastime now to see how much he can push himself, Hector’s enjoyment in indulging himself and slacking off proves to be just as enjoyable for Eliwood as the months turn into years, both men growing even larger.
The two men are currently in the privacy of their bedroom. Hector lying down on the bed, the far fatter man only wears his boxers that appear to be nothing more than a thin strip of fabric with how much it stretches to cover all his plush lard. Hector is an absolute behemoth of a man now. The obese, far past a quarter ton marquess no longer resembles his younger, much more athletic self in any shape. Not that Hector has much shape to him now with all his muscles reduced into swathes of flab from refusing to do the bare minimum of movement. Hector’s enormous tree sized thighs press and rub up against each other; despite how much he attempts to spread them while laying down, even the highest rivulets of flab that line his inner thighs caress its fellow soft rolls of adipose. Hector’s shapeless ass spreads out underneath him. It manages to give the obese marquees a slight boost despite how much he sinks into the mattress that rivals the feathers of Illia’s pegasi in softness. Hector’s large ass rivals people’s waistlines and stomachs from the sheer size of his rear. Resting atop Hector’s splayed out thighs is his massive gut. The large mound of flab spreads out as much as it can like the rest of his prodigious figure. Normally, his gut sags down to just the very middle of his knees which are encased in an extra layer of pudge from his thighs, but right now his gut spreads like a blanket of plush lard to both sides of Hector to completely covers his wide, doughy thighs. Hector’s watermelon sized breasts normally use his gut as a support system to not sag and ache his puffed, stretched out skin. Except they currently try their best to smother Hector as they sag towards his face with only having one pillow to support himself. The ring of fat that is his neck helps as a barrier for the avalanche of breast fat—Eliwood helping him as well by pushing the breasts to the side to rest on top of flour sized arms with copious amounts of soft, wobbling flab that drapes from them. Connected to his enormous biceps are elbows that lack the prior flexibility he once had, the overarching bit of lard from his biceps slightly swallowing his elbows, and his forearms that come close to rivaling the size of people’s thighs. And situated at the very apex of such a fine display of indulgence is Hector’s porcine face; his rounded face takes deep, hefty breaths as he digests the meal just fed to him by his loving husband.
Said husband sits on top of Hector. Eliwood straddles the mound of plush lard that makes up Hector’s gut with two thick, defined thighs. Where Hector blew up into a large obese caricature of his former self, Eliwood is the complete opposite of representing his dedication to growing stronger that would make any axe wielder or armor knight jealous. Eliwood angular hourglass figure shows off his cut, built musculature. His thighs are nearly as wide as his waist; each tremendously powerful leg shown off in all its splendor with Eliwood similarly only wearing ill-fitting boxers, his chair crushing thighs sink into Hector’s flab. His legs bulge out from the top with so much muscle stacked into each limb. Even his calves rival the size of people’s biceps. His knees have extra attention brought to them from the chiseled, bulging muscles of his quads. Resting behind Eliwood is his large rear; the shapely, firm rear that makes up his broad ass stretches his boxers, each globe for a bubble butt perky with a near perfect shape to them as they jut out behind him. Eliwood also top heavy, his two large pecs sit heavily on his chest. The two slabs of jutting meat curve outwards from the amount of heft to them. His enormous pectorals that surpass his head in sheer volume dig into his bulging biceps. Each rippling muscle in his arm teeming with power, the large, broad arms lack their prior flexibility from so much muscle caked onto his frame. Eliwood’s shoulders are much broader to accommodate his extra girth, but his bulging traps still limit his mobility along with his oversized delts. Underneath Eliwood’s heavy breasts are his prominent abdomen. The sculpted set of abs have a shadow cast over them by his pecs, yet they still command attention from the bulging, rippling eight pack Eliwood now sports. Despite the loss of movement from working out so much, Elwiood doesn’t mind too much. And neither does Hector, the married couple’s sentiment the exact same when it comes to Hector’s own situation with his bulging waistline that continues to grow as the days go by.
“Hahh, is that all? There better be moreEEEE-EEEUUUURP!!” Hector belches. His boisterous attitude slowly washes away to be replaced by a renewed hunger that slowly trickles and bubbles inside his gut. He still has to take a bit slow, his breathing increasingly more strained, both from the food sitting heavily in his gut and his heavy husband who sits on it.
Eliwood rubs Hector’s flabby gut. His fingers dig and sink into the pile of blubber as he rubs slow circles to ease the aching beast. “Of course there is dear, both Rebecca and Lowen made more than enough to keep even you hungry,”
“Good,,,” Hector gazes up at Eliwood with lidded eyes. His jowls jiggle as he continues to take deep breaths on his back like a beached whale. He does his best to lean into Eliwood’s embrace as his husband slowly reaches down to kiss him, Eliwood’s broad expansive pecs sinking against the upper crest of Hector’s stomach fat along with his ponderous breasts.
“After all, everyone must already know how starved you are all the time. I fear they might think I’m starving you,” Eliwood shifts his attention over to Hector's breasts. His fingers pinch at the rosy pink tips of Hector’s saucer sized areolas. He fondles his tits, leaning closer to line them with quick pecks.
Despite the bright red blush on his face that accompanies the beads of sweat and bitten lips, Hector still finds a retort. “You sure do make me go hungry sometimes, you know?”
“Like now?” Eliwood reaches for Hector’s hands. His own hands intertwining with Hector's slightly sunken hands, he slowly lifts the meaty, flabby arms up.
“Of course,” Hector’s face is squished by his arm fat. Used to the rest of his corpulence being surrounded by his lard, the sensation of his head being nearly encapsulated by a sea of his own lard, no matter how temporary—for now Hector thinks, still brings a shiver to his spine. Especially when he knows Eliwood only does it to tease him, to remind him of what’s to come when he grows even fatter, the larger size only a question of when and not if between the two’s clear enjoyment.
Eliwood lets go of Hector’s arms. Reaching to the side, he grabs at the nearest serving platter placed alongside many others.
“A big guy like me shouldn’t be kept waiting,” Hector grins up at Eliwood. The two locking eyes with one another, they can’t help but devolve into a mess of nonsensical laughter, neither able to imagine such a scenario between them back when they were nothing more than children so many years ago. And yet, both men enjoy their changes, neither find the situation absurd or strange.
“Of course, love. How awful a husband I must be to let you go famished for so long,” Eliwood brings the platter of fried shrimp to Hector’s mouth. “I love you, Hector,” He softly says despite his own feeding being far from gentle.
Hector’s response comes out muffled. “Luhv yuuu,” He moans out in between shoved forkfuls of the buttery, greasy food as the two men continue to enjoy another night of many with each other.
Hello! If you're still taking requests I would like to request a very tall buff Corrin and Dimitri admiring each other(I have no idea where the brainrot for the two together came from)
Corrin has very beefy legs and ass while Dimitri being the opposite with very big arms and pecs! The two giant but Corrin being the smaller of the two
No worries bestie, brainrot for two random characters if the fucking best ahsbahbsj. Cause I've completely been there. Also like, they're both hot lol.
I hope you enjoy this cause muscle fun and hot even if I still feel a lil rusty lol
Warning: This is a fetish story!
The Order of Heroes is an enormous organization. Spanning across multiple unique worlds, each distinct yet familiar world chock full of infinite diverging timelines, the myriad of Heroes that reside in the Order’s base is a clear reflection of such a wide variety of endless possibilities. The potent magic from countless years of research pooled together from far too many worlds for one to imagine, the strange magic created by the Order’s summoner had been offered unto its Heroes. Each spell different from its peers, the Heroes are a clear reflection of said magic.
But even still, the sight of certain Heroes is still a tremendous shock to newcomers.
Especially the sight of Faerghus’ and Valla’s kings, the two men absolute behemoths next to new Heroes while still standing imposingly tall and wide next to others.
The two men are currently seated in the mess hall, the spacious field sized room a popular destination for the entire Order. Despite its massive size that puts entire throne rooms to complete shame, the mess hall is the smaller of the two; the primary, larger mess hall is under magical renovations for the week to properly upsize and accommodate its large guests.
Several large men occupy the near to capacity dining area. Corrin and Dimitri enjoy their meal. The two are seated together, the two kings absolutely massive even when compared to most other large men.
The two are at the tail end of their lunch break. Currently, they recuperate from their light workout earlier—the affair taking up two hours of their day as they pushed themselves further and stronger beyond.
The furniture buckles and creaks under Dimitri’s size. Being the taller one of the two men—a quarter of a foot difference between them has the comparison mean little when they tower over so many Heroes—at an astonishingly tall stature of just barely cresting nine feet tall, Dimitri’s issue with vision no longer comes from his impaired eyesight alone. The giant for a king can barely see anyone with his chest in the way, especially when so many new Heroes stand shorter than the two swollen pecs. Dimitri is incredibly broad. Each part of his body is packed with dense, hard muscles. Dimitri is completely top heavy, the blonde muscle loving giant particularly fond of his upper strength. His pecs so ponderously big, they make his defined face with a cutting jawline seem small with it in between the two rocks for muscles with his hue chest and wide, broad shoulders that jut out from its musculature. Each of Dimitri’s pecs are large enough to smother a man. His chest no longer has to struggle against too small fabric. Unable to bring himself to care, too proud to hide his own magnificence underneath nonexistent clothes that could properly cover him, Dimitri goes shirtless. His entire upper body is exposed for all to see. His pecs jut out in front of him, the two slabs of meat stacked with so much muscle that they begin to slightly splay outward from the inner crevices of where his chest should meet being pushed against each other from their sheer size. His biceps are similarly as enormous as his pecs. Dimitri’s arms are larger than a person’s torso twice over. The two ridiculously large arms even have less flexibility now with how much the bulging curves of his muscles press against his pecs. His own arm presses and rubs against itself when he moves or bends it from the width of his biceps and triceps. A good portion of Dimitri’s abdomen is covered from the jutting curvature of his tits. But the visible parts show off his defined, cutting washboard abs, each single piece of his torso bulging and teeming with power. The large chair struggling from his weight alone, the backrest also struggles to deal with his enormous size. His powerful back a landscape, the broad back practically dwarfs the furniture and causes it to bulge from his shoulder blades. Dimitri’s lower half still absolutely large, the two tree trunk sized thighs that chafe and rub against each other with step paired with a large, round bubble but packed with muscle—and that stretches and warps the fabric of his shorts which are the only article of clothing he wears—are still comparatively small to the rest of him.
Corrin is almost a mirror copy of his fellow king. The silver haired dragon is mostly different by virtue of being only a few inches shorter than him, that and his personal preference and focus on his lower body. Corrin’s upper half is no slouch when it comes to size as well, the dragon able to easily lift up and seat all six of his retainers on his bulging biceps, albeit snugly with three on each arm. The two meaty arms easily dwarf his former svelte frame. His large biceps squish against his chest. Corrin’s pecs easily make any of the women from his world’s chest seem small up next to him and his broad, statuesque 8’9” frame. Corrin’s chest incredibly large, the two pecs jut out more so to the side than right in front of him, the two large breasts wide. Corrin used to wearing a rather covering outfit, he took rather easily to showing off his immense self from his own complete lack of awareness for social boundaries. Forgoing a shirt or any bed sized fabric imitating such clothing to cover him, his body is exposed to the elements. Where a small, budding set of abs were are now a complete bulging, rippling six pack; Corrin’s abs are even accompanied by a jutting v-line that immediately draws attention to his lower half. The enormous thighs teeming with muscle also help catch people’s attention. Corrin’s lower half completely dwarfs the chair he sits on. Needing one without armrests, his immense thighs still spill off the sides of his widened seating. The two enormous thighs rival the sizes of doorways, the two thighs unable to fit through normal hallways and doors meant for new Heroes. And even for said doors, each thigh alone nearly rivals the size of them. Corrin spreads both his legs, the manspreading necessary from how much his thighs press up against each other. Corrin’s shorts are the barest amount of fabric. The thin strip of material that can barely count as shorts are completely taut. They ride up his thighs, the bulging, defined mass visible like the rest of himself. Corrin’s ass also stretches out the back of his short shorts; the fabric is unable to fully cover up his large, shapely rear. Corrin’s ass also droops off the side of his chair, the rounded asscheeks larger than his waist before becoming the titan that he is now. Corrin’s thick tail even seems small next to the rest of him, the size of Corrin next to his draconic tail making it apparent that his new size even rivals his transformed state in sheer space and strength. Especially with how massive his lower half is, Corrin’s calves jutting out behind him to fill out his thick legs that struggle slightly from walking due to the sheer size and girth of his muscular figure.
The two eating in complete silence, they finish their meal as soon as they can. The food only serves as a catalyst for strengthening their bodies for them. And as soon as they finish the buffet sized entre needed to fuel their bodies with enough calories to work and burn off, the two men grab their near gallon sized pitcher. And with the largest amount of delicacy that the two men that resemble wild beasts can muster, they toast.
“You really pushed yourself today,” Dimitri smiles at Corrin, the praise genuine. His biceps press against his chest despite the angle he holds them at to toast. He also gets a large faceful of his own chest, the jutting pectorals taking up most of the vision of his one eye. Dimitri brings the pitcher up to his face, careful to not bump it against his massive chest which is always a difficult ordeal, and chugs the thick beverage.
Corrin laughs at the praise. He tries his best to rub the back of his head but the act is impossible for him, his bicep that’s larger than his head struggling to bend in the motion form the size of his own musculature. “Thanks. So did you though,” Corrin follows suit and drinks his shake like the two always do after a post workout meal.
The protein shake infused with the magic that allowed the two men to grow into the absolute giants that they are now, they greedily chug down the beverage every chance they can get to bolster their muscles and boost their gains. The shake ends up guzzled in only a few quick moments. Not a single drop goes to waste, both of their gallon sized drinks cleaned dry.
And as soon as they finish their drinks, they get up from their seats. The chairs no longer come close to breaking and cracking without nearly a ton of muscle resting on them. The two massive men look even more menacingly large standing up at their full height.
“Well, we have some time before the next event starts. Let’s get an extra workout then,” Corrin leads the way back. He walks as fast as he can, his thighs chafing despite how wide a gait he gives them by swinging his thighs past each other. His perky ass bounces behind him, his shorts shifting and slowly riding down his asscheeks as he walks.
Dimitri gets a front row view of Corrin’s ass, his large tail barely helping in covering the slowly exposing itself rear. “You’ve really trained yourself,” Dimitri smiles. Taking a faster stride than Corrin with his smaller thighs, he places a hand on Corrin’s ass and gropes it. Dimitri’s jutting pecs press up against Corrin despite the feet of distance he has to keep between them with how much Corrin’s own ass jut out. “Your ass and thighs are incredible,” He feels the heft of Corrin’s ass in his hands with a tight grip on it.
“I’ve got to catch up to you. Most people can barely tell but I know that you’re bigger than me,” Corrin continues to walk to the closest workout room, several littered throughout the Order’s base. He holds himself from flexing, wishing to show off his size to Dimitri.
Dimitri smirks upon the praise from Corrin, the simple words comparable to a hymn sung by Order’s bards. Though the kind words don’t stop Dimitri from appraising and grabbing Corrin's ass and thighs as they walk through the halls, neither aware of the slight tremors from their heavy footsteps.
The first workout room they find is surprisingly devoid of anyone else. The one of many workout rooms is completely empty. Thankful for their luck, neither even pay attention to the half cleaned up area left in a rush, neither of the two men aware of its former occupants quickly vacating the area upon hearing the walls and smaller equipment increasingly shake with two muscular behemoths coming their way.
“You’re rather big already. If anything, you’d be the bigger one if not for my height,” Despite the clear pride Dimitri takes in being taller than Corrin, the giant of a man still heaps praise upon him. “Just look at your thighs. I can’t help but be inspired by them. I might have to increase my workout routine,” Dimitri squats the best that he can, the stance a complete balancing act with so much muscle bunched up together.
“I know you’re bigger than me, but I’m not gonna stand back,” Corrin smiles. He flexes for his lone audience member who grabs his thigh. Showing off the side of his thigh and ass, Corrin can’t help but laugh to himself as he looks even bigger. His laughter trickles out as he feels his shorts almost tear, the fabric now on its last legs.
“See, you’re bigger than you think,” Dimitri stands up, holding back his own laughter.
“Well look at you,” The flustered Corrin grabs Dimitri’s pecs. Only standing a bit shorter than him, Corrin’s chest pressed up against’ Dimitrr’s with how close they are. In fact, despite standing a bit away from each other, the two can’t physically get closer from their pecs. Despite Corrin’s own impressive size, Dimitri’s broad pecs that dwarf an entire person even manage to make Corrin’s chest only seem reasonably large next to his own enormous chest. “You can barely see past these huge pecs. And your biceps are larger than mine. I’m sure you’ve accidentally crushed even more things that you let on,” Corrin smiles as he moves around to the side of Dimitri and lifts his arms to rub and inspect them.
Dimitri smiles, both at the praise he receives but from it being from Corrin who clearly understands his size with how big Corrin himself is. “Then let’s work out. Who knows, maybe you’ll be the tall one eventually. It has been getting difficult to move lately,”
“Fine then,” Corrin pulls away from Dimitri. “And it has been hard. I can’t wait for the next growth spurt to kick in so we can do it all again,”
The room divided into different sections, Corrin and Dimitri immediately head to the area meant for the two of them, enormous machines that only a few can use from the even the lightest weights available being heavy enough to crush a carriage with enough force. Even with their enormous sizes, the two men don’t come close to lifting the highest weights displayed, a fact that only spurs Dimitri and Corrin to get bigger and stronger.
An idea comes to Corrin as the two situate themselves on the machines. “Let’s have a bet! First one who gets big enough to trigger their growth spurt gets to have the other help them,” Already situated, Corrin rests his feet against the pedals that hold weights higher than entire people combined.
“Fine then,” Dimitri already prepared, he starts lifting the bar that’s heavier than anyone in his world could ever imagine him lifting even with his crest’s strength back when he had some muscle compared to his current size.
The room quickly devolves into a cacophony of grunts and metal clinking as Dimitri and Corrin work out, both of the giant kings wishing to grow more muscular and best the other, the two completely content.
