The sun crept along the sky, casting longer and longer shadows through the slits in the tent. Having settled into her cushioned, sedentary lifestyle here, Bridgit almost felt contentment in her situation. That is, aside from the nagging notion that her week of feasting and sleeping drew near its end. Ironically, the plump dwarf wished she had more food or drink to fill her belly before the weigh-in. Cannibalism at the hands of trolls was NOT how she planned to go out.
A gurgle churned through Bridgit, forcing a hand to her round stomach. By the Light, she felt enormous. Her fingers traced along the newly-formed crease across her side. Rolls. She had rolls. She couldn’t return to the Explorer’s League looking like this. And yet… she hoped she’d lived up to her boasting. The dwarf rolled onto her side and stroked the dome of her gut. Even after hours of digesting, those sweet fruits still left her bloated beyond belief.
Heavy footsteps approached, and a raptor’s screech roused Bridgit from her gluttonous stupor. Sitting up proved an effort, but with a grunt she made it upright. Her breasts heaved over her leather cups, all that remained after pounds of flesh tore it asunder. They damn well almost reached her softened chin.
“Oy, mon. She in ‘dere?” said a troll outside the tent. An affirmative grunt preceded the parting flap. A new troll she’d not met before entered and crouched in front of her. “Dis girlie lookin’ mighty fat!” he belted out a gravelly laugh and prodded her belly with one finger. She flushed as the flesh sunk in like bread dough. “I tink de eldar will be pleased.” Bridgit could have sworn he gave her a wink after that.
“You think so?” she asked, face still red. She clutched her belly and wobbled it for good measure. Her face burned with humiliation. She could feel the flab smothering her thick arms jiggle as she shook herself for the trolls.
The silent troll in the back licked his lips, eyeing her like a roast. The crouched troll nodded. “Ya, girlie. Ya be lookin’ mighty tasty now.”
“My name is Bridgit,” she spat, sticking a wet glob to his cheek. He smeared it off, but smudged some of his warpaint in the process.
“All righ’, Bridgit. Let’s see wot de eldar tinks of ya,” he growled and seized her by one, fleshy arm. He hoisted her to her feet, and she swayed, unaccustomed to her added weight. How in the world was she supposed to sneak anywhere like this? He bound her wrists and fastened a leash to the saddle of his raptor. Bridgit squeaked with surprise when he hefted her onto the raptor’s back. This brought a small smile to her face, as they left her barefoot to prevent escape.
“We wouldn’ want ya to waste any energy now, girlie,” he laughed again. The raptor lurched forward before settling into a trot as her smudged captor strolled beside it. Each bump sent Bridgit’s bosom quivering in her tattered top. Her trembling belly flesh peeked through numerous torn seams.
While passing through the village, she noticed the general slenderness of its inhabitants. They all looked hungry. Bridgit shuddered at the notion of being sized up for feasting. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to reach the elder’s hut. Soon her fears would be delayed or made a reality. The dwarf breathed slowly, but her heart raced in her chest. Her smudged chaperone sunk his fingers into her soft love handles before dismounting the dwarf from the saddle. She cringed as her toes sunk into the cold, muddy earth.
Before Bridgit stood the elder’s lodge, a tall, narrow tent. Blue smoke belched from the peak at the top of the fabric canopy, and wisps of fog curled out from the parted flaps. The raptor troll nudged the plump dwarf forward toward the lodge. Swallowing hard, she waddled into the foggy darkness. At first, she saw only a campfire at the center, but it burned with dreamy, blue flame. A thick, blue smoke filled the room with the smell of spiced, incense.
“A week, as agreed,” she heard the elder croak. He appeared from within the fog and stooped low, admiring the dwarf. She stumbled back and bumped into a wooden table. How did she miss that? The elder stretched forth a gnarled hand and began inspecting her body, this time beginning with the small beginnings of a double chin. He slid his hand down her neck and cupped a breast, raising his eyebrows. “Ohhh, ya feel fuller already… but are ya worthy?” he furrowed his brow and began sliding his hand lower.
In a reversal of last week, she muffled a grunt and stuck out her belly as far as she could, trying to appear heavier. The old shaman paused as he reached her stomach, his mouth falling agape. Slowly, with the utmost scrutiny, his fingers coursed over her plush dome of flesh, cheekily slipping one claw into her deep navel before continuing down. Bridgit quietly exhaled, and the elder gripped the doughy, dimpled meat of Bridgit’s backside in one hand. His chuckles and blind nods eased some of Bridgit’s tension. He leaned on his staff and let out a sharp whistle. The flaps parted and the smudged countenance of her captor appeared.
“Da spirits have spoken, brotha,” the elder spoke, gesturing toward the flabby rogue, “She be da one! After I give her da mojo, you take her to da shrine,” he explained. Wait, mojo? Shrine? Bridgit frowned, but her confusion only gave the elder an opportunity to grab a gourd flask from the table behind her. He popped the cork and plunged the bottle between her full lips. Bridgit floundered, but she was already seated and couldn’t gain the momentum to stand. The viscous, sour elixir hit her tongue and bubbled before sliding down her throat. Stars popped in Bridgit’s vision and her view swayed and spun before melting into darkness...
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