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Patrons' Prompt: Monster House P.5
🕑 Added 2021-11-01 04:22:48 +0000 UTCTragic.
The word hung over Centorea. Above the sweat dribbling from chubby red cheeks, above the noise of her overweight stomach noisily mixing and mashing, and above the most irrational sensation of her own mounting lust.
Tragic.
Glugh, glugh, glugh, glugh!
Clop, thud, clop, thud, clop, thud, clop.
A slime-colored sand filling an hourglasses bottom, expanding the container to fit every drop.
Tragic.
A bubble burst in her belly and a flood of hot air flowed up to her throat. She closed herself off to it and swallowed it down. She could feel the gas angrily swirling atop all the slime in her stomach wanting to find its way out, but was too proud for it. She wouldn’t be beaten by her own overburdened digestion.
“How are you feeling, Cerea?” she heard Mero ask from behind.
Centorea didn’t answer her.
“I feel awful,” the Princess filled in, following it up with an exceptional, “UURRRPP!”
“Excuse you,” Rachnera chuckled.
“Hmmm,” Mero replied. A few seconds passed before she added, “If I could see past myself, I’d probably scowl at you.”
“Well, lucky me then. It’s a good thing you’re over four-hundred pounds.”
“More than that, I’m afraid,” Mero sighed. “Much, much more.”
The spider released a husky giggle. “I’ve never been good with figuring weights. I’m used to being lighter than I look.”
“I think that we all could have once said the same…”
Centorea felt the webbing tied around her waist swing ever so gently. It was tucked into her massive love handles, squeezing her tighter than any belt ever had, but the webbing held and Centorea moved onward, leading the pack down the balcony of this disturbing manor.
To her left was the wall, to the right was the railing, and Centorea was more than aware that there was such little room. Her flanks were too flabby, her belly too wide. Pressure from her lower stomach pushed her legs outwards, her usual steps now a slow, quivering waddle.
Each step felt heavier than the last, every glughmore distracting and exceptionally fattening. She wasn’t sure if the others could see her growing fatter, but she was sure she could feel it. Her legs, her stomachs, her skin, her breasts. Goosebumps fluttered down the pinched rolls on her back, the twirling feeling of overloaded sensations.
Worst of all had to be her equine stomach. It warbled and jiggled, hanging so low to the ground that she could feel it just near her ankles. Just another few inches, she could almost feel it.
And, when she closed her eyes, Centorea actually could.
With her eyes closed, Centorea felt herself pressing into the hardwood floor. Her gut flattened against the bottom, her arms pinched against her sides, trying and failing to keep up the blonde’s stride. Yet, it was only when Centorea closed her eyes that she felt she could actually think. A long blink had illuminated the word in her mind, and had brought with it the sensations that she’d felt when she first entered this dark hallway.
In the darkness, there was no distracting gurgle. No feeling of her hair skating over her shoulder. She could feel herself walking, but receiving no thuds, causing no jiggles and bursting no bubbles. There were no goosebumps, no stretching of skin.
And it all just felt so very tragic.
“Why would you wish for tragedy?” she asked.
“Hmm?” Mero hummed from behind.
“Your fantasy,” Centorea said. She opened her sight and the sensations returned before she looked over her shoulder.
Mero swung precariously, arms pinned to her sides and breasts squishing up against the black cover. Her pink hair draped down to the floor, skating back and forth. It was almost comical how the wrappings made her look upside down, blinking at Centorea with her huge aquatic eyes.
“Why would your ‘Heaven’ be… tragic?” she repeated her question.”
Mero’s lips folded into a bitter half-smile. “I wish I knew that, myself. I understand that gazers can look inside of someone’s mind, but I’m hardly experienced. Mother held court with the Sidhe, and if I had to guess, her magic might work like theirs.”
“The Sidhe? Like… fairies?” Rachnera asked.
Mero’s chin folded as she tried to look down, only to be greeted by a modest view of her fatty breasts. It made her lips pucker into a sour pout.
“I wouldn’t call them that, at least, not to their faces. They’re more like… nobility. It’d be like calling me a fish or you a spider.”
“Ohhh, but I love being called that,” Rachnera said. The rope from her side visibly twanged and she lifted one of her hands.
The ebony claw sparkled in the moonlight as Rachnera traced it over the swollen curve of her belly and then lightly around the soft pink of her breast. The moon met her eyes and, with a soft flash of red, Centorea realized that Rachnera was looking at her.
“The ittsy bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout~”
Centorea turned forward, brushing her hair out of her face and back over her shoulder. She was blushing, still feeling Rachnera’s eyes on her back. It was distracting.
Until she closed her sight.
Tragic.
“We should be careful,” Rachnera said from the rear. “The gazer left traps for us before. If she knows we’re loose-“
“She must know,” Centorea said. She tried to move one of her hands, but it wouldn’t lift. She tried to walk forward, but her leg couldn’t find purchase. The muscles burned, but there was simply too much, and with her eyes closed, she couldn’t even feel the weight of Mero tied around her stomach.
From that darkness, finally something descended to Cerea. How long it had been bothering her, she couldn’t be sure. But ever since she’d first heard Mero’s scream, the word had burned into her mind.
“Mero…” the blonde woman’s footsteps returned, heavy and swinging, carrying the weight of her friend. “Your ‘Heaven’ was… being transformed into a shark, and being forced to chase a doppelgänger of yourself, correct?”
“I… suppose that’s true, yes,” Mero said slowly. “There’s something quite chilling about the idea… if you’d not figured out it was me, then the gazer would trap you.”
“Right,” Centorea nodded. “And you’d been forced to take huge bites of slime every time you lunged for her. It’s tragic. I understand that.”
“Are you confused about something?” Rachnera asked from the back.
Centorea paused. She felt the webbing around her tummy slacken a bit, and behind her, heard Rachnera come to a halt.
When she turned around, both of the other girls were looking at her.
Rachnera, her white skin glowing against her black carapace, a fold of fat overflowing the tightly pulled webbing, following her lead.
Mero, so big and pink that she looked almost like a rolled-up dessert. Sweating, fat, and completely helpless.
Centorea opened her mouth, closed it, and looked at the girls.
“What’s wrong, Cerea?” Rachnera asked, moving closer.
Her blonde tail brushed. Her tongue flicked over her plump lips, feeling the nervousness mounting like the weight in her tummy. She couldn’t be sure. But did know one thing.
The moon shined in from the tall windows. The bright, blue light, of a Halloween moon.
“It’s Miia’s birthday, today,” Centorea said very softly.
From behind them, towards the main hall, somebody screamed.
It wasn’t Miia.
Centorea lifted her lance against the webbing, pulling it tight while her hand went to her stomach. Mero made a sharp startled noise on the ground, dragged a soft inch before coming to an abrupt rest.
“Stay here. And stay with her, Rachnera,” Centorea said, feeling the breathy weight in her voice.
“What?! Why??” Rachnera came forward, but Mero blocked almost all of the balcony. “Cerea!”
Centorea dashed her hand against the web, snatching her knot and tugging it free. “You can’t be around me. It’s too dangerous.”
“What?!?”
The blonde knight looked up into the eyes of her friends. Behind her, another bright scream struck through the manor.
Lifting her lance, Centorea nodded bristled. “I still don’t know what my Heaven could have been.”
Then she turned and she ran, hooves thundering on the wood of the balcony, and towards the screaming plea of the gazer.
******************************************************************************
Centorea could not gallop. Not anymore.
There was no bra and no armor that could have helped with her body. No leather straps that could have been tied round her two stomachs to hold either in.
She tried all the same, fat slapping loudly and slime gurgling so heavily that she could feel waves surging and rolling inside of her stomachs. Her skin stretched, her belly releasing heavy slaps and heavier GLUGHs, gas bubbling up into her chest and her throat.
It wasn’t sickness. Rather, it was as if she’d drank too much water, or wine, or even the soda they kept back at the house. She was heavy, stretched, bloated and full, and a feeling like steam rose from her stretched pink belly.
She couldn’t trust them. They couldn’t trust her. Centorea remembered the eye of the gazer when the front door had opened, then waking up inside of the slime, specially flavored just by her touch. But there was nothing in-between.
Mero’s Heaven was tragedy, but that didn’t make any sense. Not anymore, not for who Mero was. Tragedy was who Mero had been, but Mero was different. Centorea was different, Rachnera was different.
But Miia’s Heaven could never change.
It was him. It was always him.
Had he changed her, or had she changed him? It was impossible to know, but either way, it came to Centorea as she felt the hundreds of eyes barring down from all around. The railing, the doors, the walls, the windows. They were all watching her as, in the light of the moon from the final window, Centorea arrived at her truth.
Miia had changed them. As much as he had, if not moreso, the scarlet lamia had changed every one of the girls. They’d all become more like her. They’d all grown spoiled and soft.
Her muscles ached, her tummy burned. Centorea could hardly hold her lance any longer, even with it tucked so tightly against the white blubber of her fatty hips.
Up ahead, she could hear the shouting taking shape. Words she didn’t know flowed like sand through the air, sizzling, dripping, oozing with power. But, louder still, was the thrashing that echoed throughout the house. The bursting of planks, the ache of suspension, and the thunder of pounding against a wooden door.
Her waddling canter felt her rear brushing against both railing and wall, the path growing smaller before Centorea lunged into darkness. Her arms became heavier, her feet missed the floor, her stomach ghosted the top before the words took shape and she passed into the moonlight of the central chamber.
“THERE IS NO MORE!!” the gazer screamed.
A horrid cacophony resounded through the hall. Like a thousand hooves rampaging against the hull of a ship. From another room, something was thrown at the wall, bursting out with a wrenching snap.
Centorea felt as if she could barely breathe. She’d dropped her lance somewhere, hooves clattering to a stop as she reached the overlooking balcony of the main hall. She doubled over the railing, chest and stomach heaving, the pinch on her skin bringing her back to the moment.
“THERE’S NO MORE LEFT! THERE’S NO! MORE! LEFT!!”
Before her, across the gap that had been made for the stairs, was a small woman. She had gray skin and midnight black hair, with a dozen eyes all staring inward as she braced her slim body against the wide double door.
The gazer struggled, feet slipping on the wood as the doors again clattered. The sledgehammer struck at their center, but the gazer’s glowing eyes focused and the door slammed back shut.
From inside the room came a voice that chilled the hot air in Centorea’s chest.
“Darling~” purred Miia, voice husky and heavy but loud enough to echo through the walls. “I didn’t say you could stop… come back in. You have to finish my present.”
Another blow nearly drove the gazer to the balcony’s railing. Her hair flared, black tendrils glowing so bright with her eyes that she almost became scarlet, and she pushed the doors shut. This time, she leaned her full back against it.
The big center eye would have looked directly at Centorea, but there was no center. Only the white wrappings of gauze over the crown of her head, a bandage wrapped down to over her central eye.
“Crazy witch!!” the gazer shouted, her high-pitched voice shrill and whining. “I’m not your Darling!!!”
Another strike. “Darling~ Darling!! Let me feel your kisses. Let me taste your lips!”
Centorea was still panting, fighting her body to suck down each breath. She stepped back from the railing, sight glued to the gazer, and began to circle the banister as quiet as she could. Which was… rather loud, between each step and each pop, but Miia was far louder and the gazer was occupied.
The ruby eyes glowed just in time for another strike, holding the door shut. They were focused inwards, all of their strength pushing onto the door. Centorea had to be careful. They still worked, but the central wrapping…
She reached the rug at the top of the stairs. It muffled her steps but there was still far to go, and the unease in her stomach had now reached up to her sweat-soaked throat.
This had to be the one. An avatar wouldn’t need something covering her, but…
It isn’t a cover. It’s medical gauze. Was she injured somehow? Was the gazer… blind?
Could that be possible? Her arms and legs flailed, demonic eyes blazing to cast her gray body in their horrible glow. She was naked, she was covered and… she just looked so… small…
“Let me out! Let me play with you more. There’s so much to play with… come back to me, Darling~”
“You damn idiot! You’ve eaten all of the slime! You can’t eat anymore!”
“Ohoooo, I can always make room for you, Darling~”
She couldn’t have been bigger than Papi, and would have only come up to Centorea’s chest… had the knight not been turned into a half-ton of fat. The gazer was too slender, arms and legs too obviously weak, to be any form of a threat.
But she was.
Centorea crept closer, lifting her arms. There was so much weight in her biceps that they still hung down to her sides.
Without her lance, she could only grab the gazer. If she could tackle her, disable her body while holding in her hair, she might manage to avoid looking into…
She froze.
The noise had stopped. Miia’s voice had died out, her thrashing had ceased. Silence would have returned to the hall, had it not been for the bubbles that burst in Centorea’s stomachs.
Gluuuuggghhhh, they whined with enough force to quiver the knight like a walking, blonde, waterbed, and the bursting pushed a carrot-flavored heat up her throat, forcing its way out with a loud, “Uuuurrrp.”
An autumn breeze passed over the now silent hall. It was almost peaceful, had the gazer’s mouth not slowly fallen open. Some of her eyes began to lift from her body and, slowly, turned onto Centorea.
A bashful flush swept up into her cheeks, her body coming to a slow, jiggling halt. Her brown ears fluttered, her tail brushed against her backside, and her belly released another warble.
“E-excuse me,” she muttered.
The gazer’s hair flourished. She snapped off from the door, every eye turning onto Cerea as she rushed to the center of the small balcony. “You!!” she shouted.
Centorea didn’t have time to react. Neither did the gazer.
The doorway imploded.
Wooden splinters shot out from the explosion like bullets, the ceiling of the threshold had completely gave way, and both doors flung out to slam into the gazer before she could even scream.
Centorea bucked, trying to lift herself onto her back, arms crossing her body to protect from flying debris. She only got as high as her belly before thundering back down with enough force to crack the floor beneath her.
“There you are~” Miia’s voice purred. “My sweet, lovely, delicious Darling.”
Through the smoke of destruction, Centorea saw a long, heavy tendril of dark slowly crawled from the entrance. With a flash of memory, Cerea remembered seeing the same dark shape before. When it chased her through the slime.
She remembered, then, the entity which had been above her cube. The collapsing roof, the long, dull rumble. It was louder now, wet, and it sounded like somebody starving.
The shape latched onto something and, through shadow, Centorea saw the gazer’s small body plucked out of the floor by her legs, and into the chamber.
“Miia!” Centorea said, moving forward. “Miia, wait!”
“Darling! You feel so good on my skin. So lovely, and warm. I want you to kiss me. I want you to please me.”
Centorea rounded the chamber and saw… Nothing.
There was nothing inside. No Miia, no gazer, no walls and no floor.
Darkness rose like a wall just inches past the open threshold. A portal of darkness.
Centorea didn’t even think before passing through.
It was only a moment, but it felt like minutes. It reminded Centorea of being trapped in the slime, suspended by the weight. Darkness swam about her, filling her thoughts and her senses once more, and faintly, Centorea could taste carrots and chocolate mixing on top of her tongue.
Overheated, too cool, and she still couldn’t see, but she could hear.
It sounded like somebody noisily eating.
She pushed herself onward, struggling through the dark void. It clung to her like jelly, filling each bit of her doughy fat rolls, clutching her love handles and pinching to where the fat of her chin rest on her poor, aching shoulders. It reached around her middle like hands grabbing at a belly button that was wider than her mouth, shapes lifting and mushing and squeezing her breasts. It even toyed with the girl’s wet underbelly, lifting and slapping, making her play with herself.
It felt wonderful. She could imagine someone with her, playing with her docile cheeks while she chewed and chewed, eating more and more carrots and chocolate and slime. Her pains faded, her aches left her, and Centorea reveled in her peaking weight.
When she came through, Centorea’s legs simply collapsed. She fell first onto her stomach, then onto her tummy, and finally, onto her side. Blonde, messy hair covered her face, pink and panting and puffing with lust.
She felt herself reaching forward, trying to squeeze the tip of her breasts. But she’d gotten too fat. Her breasts were too big, her arms were too short, too big and too heavy to bend so far away. Her legs quivered and, from her precious center, Centorea trembled and brightened, then loosened a gasping cry.
She wanted more. Hunger burbled inside of her almost more than her cravings could handle, her misfiring mind not able to process how much there was to jiggle and wobble. There was something there, it was so close to her eyes. She wanted more. She could have more.
But Centorea forced her sight to turn up from own body to see the pile of blubber that Miia’d become.
The scarlet lamia filled up most of the room. White flesh that formed fatty rolls over all of the floor, immense scarlet ripples that had once been a shapely strong tail. When she moved, she moved with the weight of a mountain, hands pinching her breasts together where they could reach.
Her body was wet with both sweat and with slime, a juicy red weight that looked almost like Rachnera’s jelly, but it was darker, bloodier, and reeked of meat.
Her face was huge, a blob with no neck but only just a chin which unfolded into her cleavage. Cheeks round, scales stretched, messy red hair and eyes dull with an easy-to-see overwhelmed amber.
Her tail lifted and slapped down with the weight of a truck. Most of her seemed to be falling through a hole in the floor, the hole which must have once been Centorea’s room.
“More. More!” Miia panted, her voice now a deep, obese baritone. Her hands pinched her breasts tighter, rolls of fat covered the blob of her belly, and her long tongue lapped at her slime-stained chin.
“Miia…” Centorea groaned. She blinked, forcing an arm underneath her. “Miia, snap out of it.”
“I can feel you. I can feel your kisses and your hands, Darling. Play with me. Pinch me. Feed me… Oooggghhh…” Miia’s head rolled back and her body writhed.
Whatever trap had been laid out for her, Miia’d devoured it. Just like she seemed to have devoured all of Centorea’s room, responding to the stains of slime like lover’s kisses. Her body mixed and she churned, and she spread her mouth wide.
The gazer was nowhere in sight.
“Miia! Miia, listen to me! Can you hear me?”
The writhing stopped, and Miia’s wheezing slowed. She stopped pinching her breasts and, slowly, her non-existent neck turned to look down at Centorea with her still faded amber eyes.
“Darling!!” she gasped.
Centorea managed to almost pick herself off the ground before Miia’s tail seized her around the middle.
“Agh! Miia! Miia, release me!”
The tail was burning with heat, but it moved too quickly for something so large. It wrapped round Centorea’s waist, then her flanks, then her back end, picking her up from the ground.
“You came back!” Miia cheered, tongue lulling back out. “I knew you would. Come to me, Darling… let me taste you once more…”
Centorea worked her arm free, smashing it down against the tail’s exposed pink underbelly to zero effect. Her sight swiveled up as she felt the muscles tense, pulling her closer and closer. Drool wet her fat chin, and Centorea’s heart bucked when she realized what must have happened to the gazer.
“Miia! You’re not yourself! Listen to me! I am not Master! It’s Cerea! Cerea!”
“Darling, Darling,” Miia sang, her voice drunk with gluttony and spoiled pleasures. “Let me feel you against me.”
Centorea felt the weight inside of her flatten as it pressed down against Miia’s immense stomach. If her tail was warm, her body was a bonfire, and through her own stomach she could feel all of the slime bubbling and mashing, and fear began to mount. Beyond all reason, beyond all suspicion, fear lifted into Centorea’s throat as the tip of Miia’s tail came up to her neck and stroked at her chin.
“Won’t you feed me?” Miia asked, bringing Centorea up past her cleavage and to her round, flabby cheeks. Her eyes were foggy, distant and wrong as her throaty voice whispered, “Just one last bite…”
It was then that time froze for Centorea. As Miia’s mouth spread wider, as the fire inside of her seemed to reach a maximum, Centorea heard something from beyond her senses.
She heard the shout of a woman, before a scarlet red tail wrapped around Miia’s fleshy-pink chin.
Miia’s eyes turned down to look at the tail, and with them went every gaze inside of the house. The ceiling, the walls, the floors all looked down at the tail, and for the first time since she’d fallen asleep, Centorea opened her eyes.
The ruby red glow of the gazer’s hundred eyes was a flash of pain against Centorea’s vision. She saw the gray girl, small and slender, only an armlength away, clutching at either side of her face. The large center eye was misty, fainter then all of the rest, as it illuminated the scarlet red tail tied around her small neck.
“Get off of her!” Centorea heard someone roar, before, with a shriek, the gazer was torn from her face and flung towards the wall. She slammed into it with enough force to crack the walls and she fell to the floor.
The gazer only had time to look up and scream before the tail crashed down on top of her, thrashing about and spinning rapidly until it covered her legs, her waist, her shoulders, and pinched itself closed on the crown of her hair, spinning her round and round until she was lifted up almost to Miia’s waist, a true amber glare boring down upon her.
Miia the lamia wore a purple and orange witch’s dress with a belt tied around her waist. It fit her perfectly, as did the necklace with ‘Birthday Girl’ tied around her neck, and the furious snarl on her slim, soft face.
“H-how did you-” the gazer coughed.
Miia lifted her tail, hoisting the gazer up to her, and stared her directly into the eye. “Did you think, for a moment, I couldn’t tell the difference between my Darling and your gazer trash?”
Centorea tried to move. She couldn’t. She tried to speak up. She couldn’t do that either. She could only blink as wave after wave of obese exhaustion flowed over her body. And she knew, without looking, how much that there was.
Her feet couldn’t touch the floor. She was propped up by both of her stomachs, human and equine, spreading out on the panels. Her sore arms were covered in such thick layers of fat that she barely had elbows, and could not even bend. Her breasts were a valley, a canyon of fat that came down to her navel, which was as wide as her head.
The fat from her chin had been nearly absorbed by the fat from her body. She had no neck, no collarbone, nothing but coat upon sheet of burdensome fat. Even her eyes felt like they were being pinched tight by the pink-blubber of her cheeks. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, and she felt so very tired. But she settled on a long, heavyweight groan.
She had to warn Miia, but she couldn’t find the strength nor the breath in her lungs.
Miia looked away from the gazer and up unto Cerea, whose weight held her almost several feet higher. Concern colored the girl’s honey-sweet eyes and, when they turned back to the gazer, they were caught inside of the ruby red gaze.
Centorea coughed, felt her stomach bubble, but felt a chill suddenly sweep out over the room as Miia’s eyes flared with a bright, lunar light, and her face pulled down into ferocious rage.
“Try me,” she dared, lifting herself over the gazer, her tail tightening further and further until the gazer let out a whimper, and she broke the gaze. Scoffing, Miia turned the gazer away. “Mero! Rachnera! You can come in now.”
Rachnera came through the open doorway, nude and pudgy, but nowhere near fat. Mero, meanwhile, looked like a strawberry dumpling, but she compared to how she’d been, it was nearly nothing, still able to fit onto Rachnera’s back, and even though most of it was ripped, she still fit in her swimsuit.
“Oh, my…” she whispered. “Is she… Centorea, are you okay?”
Centorea blinked, blinked again, and then she groaned. It reverberated through her body, though she felt no bubbling slime nor any sickness of heat. Instead, Centorea felt empty.
“How’s the gazer?” Rachnera asked. “Is she blind, like you said?”
“No,” Miia hissed before sending her tail and the gazer thumping onto the floor. “She’d been feeding for too long. Maybe when we first got here, but she’d been gathering energy from Cerea the whole time. As you can tell, she’d eaten a whole feast.” Her tail lifted and thunked back down, making the gazer whine even if it likely did no real damage.
“Poor thing…” Mero said. “She must have been starving.”
“Her?!” Miia asked, seeming irate. “Look at you! Look at Centorea! Look what she did! Another bite, and she might have taken it all!!”
“She might not have done it if she hadn’t gone blind,” Mero shook.
Miia’s head shook, cheeks as red as her hair. “So go to a shelter! Contact someone!! She sat here, starving, so it’s okay for her to-”
“It’s not right,” Mero said, turning up her nose. “It’s just a bit… tragic…”
A gust of air entered Centorea’s nose. It washed down deep, filling her lungs, and she let it out as a depressed breath.
“Centorea?”
She looked up to see the other girls at the foot of her belly, which seemed so far away. Each of them watched her, blinking up at her, and Centorea took in another deep breath.
“My Heaven…” she panted, feeling her stomach rise up as she wheezed like an overworked car, “was a story… where I was the hero…”
Her voice was deep, the weight in her throat vibrating as she whispered each word.
“That was my bait… and I gobbled it up…”
