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pangtasias-atelier · 6 months

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Innes' Growing Viewpoint

Had like 200 words and then just had extreme lack of motivation so then just didn't touch this wip until I forced myself and well I guess that works lol so here's this and hopefully there's more eventually instead of waiting 2 months for a new story.

Really craved more Sac/red St/ones since been playing it so have my favorite character who I legit like never use lmao. Hope you enjoy some mind warping and hopefully it came out decent.

Warning: This is a fetish story!

Flapping pegasus wings sound off in the distance, the customary noise hard to frighten the chirping of Frelia’s scattered birds in the safety of the sparse trees amongst the grunts of the training soldiers in the courtyard. The sun manages to hold off on torturing everyone in its rays with the day rather cloudy. Frelia’s gray atmosphere perfectly matches its King.

“I’m a fool to allow this,” Innes adjusts the final portion of his outfit, the miniscule wrinkle in his cuffs irritating him much like the small bit of belly fat he now sports—the additional pale sliver of pudge had not been there the day before, but his hard work ethic has him immediately blaming himself—and even presses against the silky fabric of his clothes. Innes’ grip on his door handle slips upon the sound of shock and surprise coming from the courtyard. A quick trip to his balcony, and an even quicker glance outside shows him the cause for the commotion.

Despite the distance, the mop of cerulean blue hair is all too hard to miss. Along with the wide silhouette. The wave from Renais’ King and their slightly hurried pace as he enters the castle is also hard for Innes to miss, decorum hard to follow between the two grown men when having known each other for far too long.

“Tch, he’s still allowing himself to be an utter slob,” Huffing in disapproval of Ephraim’s size, able to see he’s gained some weight despite the large distance, he can’t help but grumble as he glances down at his own bit of pudge. With nothing to be done at this exact moment, he igores his current state of affairs and takes a seat on his ornate couch, the slender curves of each leg along with its armrests indicative of Innes’ highbrow tastes. As he awaits his visitor, the small bit of pudge on his figure slowly bulges out; the leather strap of fabric meant to hold his coat together ever so slightly begins to strain further, more and more of Innes fat ending up pressed against the material. His thighs slowly widen, two barely pudgy legs thickening outward and taking up more space on the furniture. Fattening up, Innes pays no attention to any of it, even as his weight begins to wind down and crest at a noticeable 300 pounds.

Instead, Innes waits patiently. As patiently as he can while his stomach grumbles, his early waking hours usually filled with some level of hunger. Glancing down, the small frown that frames his pudgy face is only alleviated by the faint smirk of satisfaction that crosses his mind when all alone. He gives his portly belly a small few pats; the pale flabby stomach jiggles, the slightly snug fabric meant to show off his curves following every slight yet noticeable bounce of his heft. The gesture only eggs his stomach on, the grumbling noise only intensifying.

“Hmmph,” Innes waits all alone in his lavish room. The only accompaniment he has is his grumbling belly, a feature he’s grown accustomed to from always having such a stocky figure—a fact that comes so naturally for him to recall despite the ever so slight fuzz he feels in the back of his mind. His still growing stomach interrupts that minor train of thought; his impatience gets the better of him as his rising weight only worsens his morning hunger. “To think I held off breakfast for Ephraim. When he gets here I’ll…” With a quick tsk, Innes stands up from his spot.

But not before he reaches for the belt that digs into his aching, wobbling gut like the harsh scales from the few times he’s ridden a wyvern—all with complete expertise over the mount despite the initial irritation from having such a hefty rider. Innes’ thick fingers, still firm and sturdy from all his years of archery, barely brush against the leathery adornment before they graze nothing besides the silky fabric of his clothes. His outfit changing before his very eyes, he pays no attention to it, even as his thighs widen and fatten up, each thickened limb becoming much more cumbersome to maneuver with each slow, meticulous step. Innes’ belly blossoms into a mound of a gut; the empty tank’s incessant grumbling only grows more uproarious as it sags further down his obese figure. Slowly, the flabby roll of fat descends past Innes’ fattened crotch and fat pad. His gut slaps against his fattened thighs as his gait turns even more awkward and cumbersome. His clothes change little in their appearance despite his growing size—and the widening state of his clothes—larger and larger amounts of expensive fabric needed to accommodate all of his girth. Innes’ decadent tastes remain the same even as he grows fatter. His arms grow more rotund, the two plump arms becoming much less likely to pull back on his string than to lift up a fork and stuff himself. His breasts fill out, the two moobs swiftly turning into full blown breasts as more plush lard gets slapped onto his ever growing body.

Innes’ waddling that only continues to come ever closer to a crawl ends up finally put on halt with a massive hand outstretched against the wall. Furiously red, the crimson hue on his face is only half from hunger. The other half from exhaustion, all too clearly displayed by the beads of sweat that stream down his porcine cheeks that bulge out and jiggle with each heaping gulp of air he breathes, Innes' massive body forces him to stop his fruitless waddling. Innes pays little attention as to why or even how he stood up, the massively fat royal always needing assistance to get up everyday now before being fed his daily feast for breakfast.

“Haah, I’ll get you for this Ephraim,” Innes mutters under his breath in between his heavy, tired wheezes. His still growing body presses further against the wall. Always so damn jealous of how much bigger I am. Innes thinks. The previous memories of his entire existence are fully altered to match his corpulent state.

Ephraim’s finesse to battle equally matched by his appetite, the azure haired royal stood out from his twin by his stocky figure. A figure that only grew as Innes gave extra treats and passive aggressive remarks, the slightly older male—who had also been rail then back then—unable to properly hide his fascination with Ephraim’s plumper than above average body. A bet from Ephraim had been all it took for Innes to start indulging himself. The excess calories that left him always so satiated and content, the constant gorging that helped his swelling waistline, Ephraim’s firm, demanding attitude that could all too easily goad Innes into stuffing more food down his throat all mingled with his own unabashed enjoyment of his increasing size, plus his naivety in believing that he truly was besting Ephraim at his own game, led to Innes ever growing heftiness that now leaves him teetering on immobility.

As Innes tries his best to regain his stamina, his bulging body that resembles more of a mattress continues to ache with hunger.

Fortunately for Innes, Ephraim finally makes his way to his room.

Ephraim rather portly as well, the obese man fills out his attire all too generously. His clothes seem painted on, fabric and buttons just loose enough to come close enough to where they strain but with still enough room to not immediately be in danger of tearing. Ephraim’s large, portly gut bounces with each heavy step he takes. His large stomach is outlined by his tight clothes, the beast of a gut well past his crotch. His breasts follow a similar motion, the upper portion of his torso straining his clothes with his engorged nipples visibly pressing against the material. His doughy arms are strangled by his sleeves; fat bulges out the sides. Ephraim’s lower half isn’t as well endowed as the rest of him, leaving him with a rather noticeable apple shaped figure. But his ass still has some heft to it, the two hefty cheeks for a rear wobbling while he waddles up to Innes.

Despite his own heavy breathing, Ephraim’s size and exhaustion only a fraction of Innes’, Ephraim supports himself with a cart of food. Ephraim’s rounded out fat appears even rounder with the addition of stubble. “You should be in bed, lardass,” Tucked in between his large, fat biceps and his breasts is a tome—not that Innes pays attention to it with food now near him.

“I hnnghh…” Already out of breath, Innes still growing ever larger and fatter, Innes has no response with his brain muddied by his impossible logistics of getting up by himself with his newfound reality at such an immense size.

Ephraim spares no delicacy as he manhandles and fondles Innes’ enormity. “Let’s make this quick, we don’t have much time left,”

Innes doesn’t bother asking what he means, food and comfort much more pressing.

“A pig like you really just can’t help but stuff himself,” Ephraim pushes into Innes to get him moving, lard sloshing against lard. He practically humps Innes to get him moving, the nearly immobile man’s pathetic movements still managing to slow further down. Ephraim thankfully manages to get him onto his bed, what used to be a canopy is now reduced to nothing but a massive mattress.

“Haaahhh… you’re jusshht hnnggh jeahloussh…” Innes weakly retorts even while Ephraim gets him comfortable and perched up by a multitude of pillows that still end up squashed underneath his titanic girth. His speech grows more difficult as he ends up even fatter, more and more of the mattress obscured by his immensity.

“Sure thing. I mean, it is impressive that just one of your tits alone is bigger than my gut. And I’m already fat as hell,” Ephraim hefts himself up atop Innes’ gut. Making himself comfortable, he parks his fat ass right atop Innes’ dining table of a gut. “All you do is gorge the entire day away. How are you going to make people respect you when you’re on your way to being fatter than a manakete?” Ephraim holds back his snickering the best that he can, gleefully grinning down at Innes while grabbing the first of many plates from the cart.

Innes’ eyes never stray from the plate of food Ephraim holds. Even as his memories focus on Ephraim’s words the best that they can, the words Ephraim tells him Innes’ very own the last time the two had seen each other—before Ephraim had cast his spell on the unwitting Innes. “Whaaht?” Is all Innes asks before Ephraim shovels rich, buttery lobster pasta down his mouth.

“If you want more, you’re going to have to ask for it. Unless you want me to catch up and pass you? Not that I’d ever become such a useless slob such as yourself,” Clearly enjoying himself, Ephraim leans closer to Innes, the tome holding the incantation that caused this left right beside it lest it get lost somewhere in between Iness’ numerous rolls of lard. He has Innes still growing, the gargantuanly obese man still managing to fatten up.

Innes lacks any semblance of shape to his enormity. Immense all around, the immobile man resembles a pile of lard more than the slim sniper and strategician he used to be. His massive stomach envelops everything around it, the pool of lard for a gut spreading out further. His ass cheeks that rival couches rest far behind him, the shapeless ass cheeks constantly jiggling with each deep breath he takes. His arms and legs are sunken into his enormity; the once slender limbs lack anything remotely near flexibility with hundreds and hundreds of pounds of fat crammed onto them. Innes can’t even move his digits with how fat he is. All he can do is eat and moan, the sudden changes forced onto him clearly enjoyed.

And despite all his pride, the immobile blob’s starving hunger wins out, that and his eagerness to grow even larger, to upstage Ephraim even further in the two’s nonexistent bet that he believes. “Pleeasshee…. Ihh’m… urrrp… sshtarhvin’ hhnnnggg…”

“You got it, pig. I’ll make sure you never be left wanting more,” Before going to feed the moaning Innes more, Ephraim reaches a portly hand for his tome. But he stops himself, making Innes smother the mattress in its entirety and watch as furniture disappears from his room to accommodate his even larger, more absurd size. “And since your fatass is enjoying how much of a blob you are, I guess I’ll keep us both nice and happy,”

#fat emblem #my writing #male weight gain #ssbhm #feeder emblem #fat fiction #maleweightgain

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