Lila and Kween and the Turbulent Priest Written by x-22, Based on characters by RounderSofter

The glorious sun bathed everything in a copper glow. Fanfare blared over the crowd's reverent silence as the giant doors rumbled, light playing over gold plate as they slowly opened. The marble of the magnificent temple shone like precious metal in the sunlight, from towering spire to tendrils of columned wings fanning out to embrace the immense throng. The rapturous followers were crammed together in the vast plaza. They pushed madly to come closer to the polished platform that cleaved through the crowd. Soon the doors were open and the fanfare died down. Out of the mysterious gloom of the sprawling temple and into the pleasant warmth stepped the Blessed One. Mad cheers went up from the crowd for the High Priestess. Sole custodian of the faith, pinnacle of the temple hierarchy. The faithful worshipped her. Kings bowed to her will. She was fat as only the supreme pontiff of Hunger and Feasting could be, but beautiful. Her girth rivalled her height, but her lilac and pink clothes she wore as if she were the Goddess of Beauty herself. Thick, blue hair fell over her shoulders and elegant robes. The high priestess' bulging hips barely cleared the doorway as she waddled slowly towards the gently sloping stairs down to the marble platform below. Her big eyes surveyed her faithful and her heart swelled at the sight. Lila! Lila! Lila! she imagined them chanting, but the din was incomprehensible. A smile spread across the high priestess' broad features. The adulation seemed as endless as the stairs she descended, but when she finally stepped onto the platform, the cheers still endured. Her hefty arms were already fanned out – she was so fat they could not help but reach out and embrace her ample curves – but as she reached the end of the walkway she spread them further and raised her hands in obeisance to the Goddess. The crowd erupted in even greater ecstasy as they called the Glorious Devourer's name, but the gigantic likeness of her serpentine form was cut from limestone and showed no gratitude. As the roar around her reached a crescendo, the high priestess felt about to leave the ground, surging upwards on her followers' love of her. Her feet remained firm on the ground, however, and before her eyes, the cold statue of the Goddess came to life: Little mammal... Kween scoffed in the high priestess' mind. You are no priestess of mine! Around her, the praise of the crowd evaporated into encroaching bleakness. No one voiced any concern when the limestone naga leaned forward and easily picked up the priestess' helpless corpulence. Just as she disappeared down Kween's gaping maw, Lila the former thief woke with a whimper. Part 1: The Sudden Summer Feast Only the multicoloured light of several elegant Elven paper lanterns brought illumination to the shadowed crevasse, giving the rough stone walls hues of green, orange and red. Down here, the bustle of the temple above was muted, but now the silence was broken by the clattering of cups and plates. "Lentis!" exclaimed Naava Latyiakhtobrochdiaakaliinyani. The Elven enchantress sounded uncharacteristically cheerful – and quite surprised. Down the uneven steps into the enchantress' abode, Landis carefully balanced a tray of tea and cakes. It wasn't easy while also balancing a swaying behind so big and wide she was beginning to have trouble navigating the smaller doorways of the temple. Luckily for the villager and her expanding rear, the important doors in Kween's temple had been designed with even greater circumferences in mind. Her massive butt grazing the crevice wall reminded Landis how big she was. Her bottom half might have gotten the worst of it by far, but now even her maroon waistcoat was becoming really tight across her chest and around her waist. Even if she had not been having lunch with Naava for almost two months now. The fact that she had spent more time in Ligeia's kitchen instead did not cross her mind. No matter how much Landis might have been spilling out of her top, however, the Elven enchantress was still putting her plumpness to shame. With her gut, as soft as the butter she was so fond of, now spilling forth almost to her knees, the elf's cut-open grey dress did nothing more than contain her breasts and barely cover her love handles. Those jutted out over the sides of her sarong and bulged out beyond the rolls of fat on her back, as if they were running out of room to grow. Peeking out from her skirt were thighs so fat and soft a pixie could drown in them. Pushed backwards into plump pillows by her huge gut, the elf sat with her comparatively slender arms draped over her belly, the glow from the lanterns making her pale, doughy flesh look slightly green. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't find any cream for your tea," Landis apologized as she put down the tray on a stack of books on esoteric arts. "Is no problem," Naava assured her and made a half-hearted effort to reach for a cup, then waited for the villager to hand he one. "Ken hev plein." "You sure?" "Look et fet belly," the elf said, grabbing her gut with her free hand. The heft of the quivering mass was so great she could barely lift it with one hand. "Hev hed enough cream for lifetime, yes?" "Don't be silly," Landis smiled kindly. "Here, have some cake..." She picked up a slice for the elf. "...it's two-thirds butter." In her office on the first floor in the east wing of the temple, priestess Lila was poring over pages of accounts. It was terribly boring, she thought, but at least Tarrl the former innkeeper knew how to write legible and easily understood records. The blue-haired ex-thief held up two pages next to each other and compared them with an increasingly puzzled look on her face. Apparently, the expenditures for food had remained almost unchanged over the last two months. It had even declined a little. It was strange, because Lila knew full well that appetites at the temple only grew. Now that she's proved she's not too fat to be useful, Jalinda's probably eating enough to double our food budget on her own, Lila thought and chortled at her own witticism. Not to mention those sirens probably just lying there, having food poured into their mouths and those ravenous mercenaries, eating more than they're fighting. Lila had once decided to get a measuring rope so she might have some semblance of control over her expanding waist. She hadn't, but perhaps she ought to get one for the other temple inhabitants. Of course, the temple did not have as many inhabitants now as two months ago. Perhaps the absence of Aina, the Laguran masseuse, was the cause of the unexpectedly low consumption. Not that the scrawny skank could have put away much food herself, but she certainly did not leave the great Kween wanting anything. Could it be that, without her pet blonde to feed her, it was Kween who was responsible for the decrease? You wouldn't know it from looking at the self-styled goddess, though; She must have at least tripled in girth these last months. Eating massively obese Majari spirits, gigantic sea serpents and giant-sized fairies on a regular basis would do that to you. Still, even if the naga goddess was eating less, she was still too fat to leave her sanctum. Lila had considered recruiting the dwarves of Kargol Garkhelgoukh again and have them wide the exit. It would be a shame to redo the main entrance now that both doors were finally in place, though. Also, it doesn't hurt to know where I have her, the priestess thought wryly. Kween's probably too lazy to bother moving around, anyway. Lila was about to approve the most recent accounts when her aide appeared at the door. Timidly putting her brown-haired head into the doorway, Magora said softly: "Priestess... it's, uh, well... Tarrl wanted me to-" "Look, I'm going through his blasted budgets right now!" Lila interrupted her. "Even the front door's fixed somehow; what more could he want from me??" "He said that..." "I don't care what he says," Lila said sharply. "What I care about right now is that I'm the high priestess and the high priestess wants dinner!" "Right," the aide nodded and scurried away, reappearing a few moments later: "...high priestess." "And then, leading the charge myself, I cut off the heads of three men with one stroke of my sword. Did I tell you about the time I got my blade stuck in an ogre's skull?" With summer approaching, the temple was bustling with activity as the faithful cleared away remnants of the cold winter. Not so in the tower of the sirens, where the five fat bird women were lounging about as the always had. Lounging on a mountain of pillows and pelts, Thelxiepeia was offering a liberally embellished retelling of her participation in the battle for Dunnar two months ago. The elder siren was the second of her sisters to eat herself too fat to get up to her alcove in the tower wall, and since she had been eating enough to spare the others the same fate. Increasingly greedy and overbearing, Thelxiepeia was now devouring almost everything that entered the tower, having browbeaten her sisters into feeding her face. Only when their older sister was too full to eat even to spite them, could the rest of the sirens have their share. This too was Thelxiepeia's domain, so, hoping to get the biggest portion, all of the sirens did their best to please her, except Parthenope, who was so fat she could not get up without help. Jalinda had a soft spot for the massive siren, though, and Parthenope remained reasonably (or perhaps unreasonably) well-fed and pampered; The blonde warrior's word trumped even Thelxiepeia's, out of fear of what Lila might do to them if they displeased her. "Yes, you've told us a hundred times already!" Peisinoe groaned. The dark beauty was still fatter than most of her sisters, but lately, the size gap between her and Thelxiepeia had widened, despite Peisinoe's legendary indolence. "Is this any way to treat your brave warrior sister?" Thelxiepeia complained. "I'm starving!" "Yes, yes," Leucosia muttered and slid down from her perch. Unlike Peisinoe, who was all fat gut and plump cheeks, Leucosia was mostly hips and butt. She was also the thinnest – or rather, the least fat – of the five, but that wasn't saying much. "At least she isn't bragging," Aglaope told Peisinoe as she watched Leucosia cram Thelxiepeia full of pie, steak, stew and Chthon knew what else. Leucosia kept feeding her sister until she was too tired to continue: "Surely that is enough?" she groaned and collapsed against Thelxiepeia's enormously stuffed belly. In the corner of her eye, she could see Peisinoe waddle towards them: "Come now, I think the hero of our family deserves more than that," she fawned. As she leant over to rest her hands on Thelxiepeia's gut, her own huge belly squashed against it. Running her hands in large circles across her sister's belly, Peisinoe looked disdainfully at Leucosia, then turned to Thelxiepeia and grinned: "At least I think so... let me get you something to eat, instead." With summer almost upon the Highlands, Kween had declared it time for the Great Summer Threshold Feast. Like most of the Temple's time-honoured rituals, Lila suspected the Feast was something the naga came up with at the spur of the moment. This meant there was likely some hidden agenda behind it; it made Lila uneasy to think she did not know what. Not that the priestess got much time to consider this; meeting Kween's extravagant demands – and making it appear she was meeting the naga's most outrageous requests – proved an onerous task. The only way to get most of the wines and delicacies the summer feast apparently required was through the merchants supplying the Temple out of Libe and they were being difficult about it. "Tarrl says he refuses to deal with those, uh 'southerner scum'. Says it's 'bad business', priestess," Magora had told her. And so Lila had to invite one of the merchant leaders to her office and do the negotiations herself: "Your Holiness," the goateed man smiled graciously, brushing back his neatly coiffured hair, "I merely want to know if you mean to pay for all this?" "Do you doubt the Temple of Kween's intention to pay for your services?" Lila said sharply, doing her best to appear imposing in her ill-fitting chair. "Not so much your intent, Your Holiness..." Lila sniffed, "Why don't you contact Drakaina Sybaris, the architect? She can vouch for our financial security." Having lent us most of the money, she could have added. "Very well," the merchant said reluctantly and curtsied. "You will have your goods by next week."

The merchant kept his word; On the evening of the great feast the tables were overflowing with foreign delicacies and the bounty of the local farms. Ligeia, the siren cook, had been hard at work for a week to prepare the veritable mountain of treats. Tables had been arranged on the grounds outside the temple, overlooking Banshee Lake glimmering amber in the setting sun, ostensibly to enjoy the warm weather, but mostly because Lila did not want muddy peasant boots dirtying the temple floor. The prodigious amount of food was clearly disproportionate to the crowd that had showed up, but this did nothing to deter those present. After all, some of those in attendance were the sirens of the temple tower, whose appetites were only limited by how much food you could put in front of them. They had dressed for the occasion, though the only thing that could cover up their vast, rolling nakedness was wrapping them in linen sheets – two each for Thelxiepeia and Parthenope. Coming out for the feast, the mercenaries from Majar, the Blood Furies, marched in two ranks of five, a tiny army of dark-skinned warriors dressed in tight vests and ill-fitting trousers. In the middle walked their leader, serious-looking Rashoka. With her defined lips drooping, brow hard above a sharp nose, the mercenary captain appeared disciplined and harsh, but she had grown fat and out of shape from staying at Kween's temple. Recovering from fighting in Dunnar that spring had made her even thicker and as she now made her way towards the closest table, her stout thighs rubbed together in her not-so-loose-anymore trousers. What had been a prodigiously thick waist was now a pudgy gut swaying as her plump legs made her waddle as she looked for a seat. The four Majari flanking her were little better; Bahamadhu, the fattest of them, was even bigger than Rashoka, with a big gut jutting out over her short skirt – and a double chin that put even the bloated captain's puffed-up cheeks to shame. Even the thinner Ubandi was overflowing her tight trousers, flabby rolls cascading down to accumulate and wash over her waistband. The obvious exception was the athletic woman walking at Rashoka's right; The bronze-skinned Vashni had little more than a slightly soft waist to show for their months of pampering, unlike every other Fury, who was having trouble fitting in their clothes or had been forced to get bigger ones. Even Naava had left the snug comfort of her subterranean lair. A small pavilion tent had been erected around her, covering up the endless sky above, but open to the sides so she could make conversation with Landis beside her. With the lavishly set table hiding her outsized rear, the sturdy villager looked almost slender compared to the flabby enchantress, but it was hard not to notice the top of her breasts spilling out of her bodice and the soft bulge just beginning to appear under her protruding chin. Overseeing all these in their gluttony, Lila sat at the head of the centre table. Decked out in her most recent robes of office, she stood out as she filled her ostentatious seat with midnight blue silk and pink and violet details of coils and fangs. The priestess had no idea where her clothes were commissioned, but if Kween's intention was to make her look like a brightly coloured maw ready to devour anything unfortunate enough to strike her fancy, the tailor had succeeded admirably. And, even if she wasn't about to admit it, the likeness wasn't entirely imaginary; Magora hovered at her side, ready to serve more food and wine, and she had already fed her mistress fifteen courses. Lila savoured the rich tastes coming from Ligeia's kitchen and revelled in her new robes still allowing her to breath, despite having gorged herself on every dish put in front of her. She was already so fat she had trouble reaching beyond her huge gut when she lounged in her seat – and she was too full and lethargic to sit upright. With a few dozen sausages, three steaks and a few bowls of stew adding to her circumference, Magora's assistance was invaluable if Lila was to keep up her gluttony. And the food was far too good not to. Opposite the priestess' dutiful aide sat Jalinda, bodyguard to Drakaina Sybaris of Libe, to whom they truly owed this feast. Taking a pause in her feast, Lila looked at the blonde warrior and said with the lethargy of the thoroughly overfed, "Have you tried the Majari buttersauce?" The warrior nodded and to look at her you could believe her instantly; Waited on by sirens terrified of Lila's wrath (and, by extension, Kween's great hunger) for months, the bodyguard had grown really fat, Lila had to admit. Her not-so-old sky blue tunic fit only as a tabard now; Her once firm, though thick, waist now billowed forth in hefty love handles and a fat gut, stuffed with the treats she was being offered. The warrior's strong jaw could barely be discerned beneath soft flesh and a plump double chin and her cheeks were so puffed-up and fat one might suspect they were trying to overtake her hooked nose. In place of her outgrown tunic, Jalinda wore a roomy white blouse. Her bodice, coloured in the crimson of Drakaina Sybaris' household, but carrying golden coils – symbols of Kween – had been unlaced to accommodate the great feast. A heavy black sword belt carrying the holy symbol of Kween on its buckle hung unfastened at the warrior's sides. Ligeia hung over Jalinda's shoulder, offering a steady stream of her culinary creations and demanding equally constant affirmation of their excellence, even if it was only the grunts and nods of a gorged woman busy wolfing down the endless feast she was fed. The siren cook hardly resembled her sisters anymore, having stayed fairly slender where the others had greedily gorged themselves to great indolence and greater proportions. Her old apron still fit around her waist without problem – and it was still all she wore. "My compliments to the cook," Lila groaned. She smiled at Ligeia and patted her glutted belly with a gravy-stained hand. Noticing the stain on her robes, she quickly licked her fingers clean. "Oh, Landis and Kinosa have been a great help, high priestess," the siren blushed and was distracted from fawning over her beloved warrior. As tasters no doubt! Lila smiled. The villager couldn't have been fasting to get such a rear end. Bigger than Jalinda's, she noted. Self-consciously she put a hand to the generous surfeit of doughy flesh spilling out of her own seat: but not bigger than my own, surely. As for the chubby dark-haired Laguran masseuse, she was not present at the feast, no doubt waiting on Kween inside the temple. The naga might miss the banquet itself, but she would be well-nourished by her followers' excess. Reminded of this, Lila immediately excused her great appetite as a side-effect of that magical bond she had with her mistress. "Well... this... pie-thing is... amazing," Jalinda managed, her mouth free of food for once. "Oh!" Ligeia exclaimed, her head fluttering about till she laid eyes on the half-eaten pie. Composing herself, she gave the warrior another piece. "I learnt it when I was in Dunnar," the siren exclaimed happily as she kept handing the portly blonde piece after piece. "I had to substitute the cream for milk and butter, though." The mentioned mixture smudged Jalinda's fat cheek as she gorged herself on pie after pie. Dutifully, Ligeia kept the pastries coming – and the warrior's belly swelling with them – until a chocked Jalinda bid her stop: "You should..." she began, her breathing measured, "...save some... for Lila..." "As... as you wish," Ligeia acquiesced, but hesitated. Jalinda found herself staring at the pie in front of her, barely visible beyond her swollen gut, glistening with cheese and creamy white filling. Her hands rested on her bursting belly, but she was able to forget how huge it was. Licking her lips, not taking her eyes of the food, she said softly to Ligeia: "Never... mind." Too full to elaborate, she let out an involuntary belch and gave the siren a simple instruction: "More."

Lila had no idea how much she had eaten by the time she dozed off and was glad her mind was too sluggish to make an estimate. She was too full to keep her eyes open, much less move and so had given up observing the feast. Letting the pleasant sensation of fullness overtake her and subdue the dull pain of having eaten far too much, Lila was about to fall asleep when she was rudely awakened: No time to sleep, little mammal! Kween's voice hissed in the priestess' head. I wish we never recovered that stupid artefact, Lila thought, hoping the Elven orb did not also grant the naga the ability to read her mind. How is the feast proceeding? "Good," Lila muttered, opening the barest slit of an eye in order to confirm this. Speak up! her mistress demanded. If this is what you call 'good' I would hate to see what is 'an abject failure'! Stirred against her will by Kween shouting in her head, Lila opened her eyes and wondered what the naga was displeased with – not that it took much to ruffle her scales. Certainly, it looked like everyone had followed her Temple's creed well: At the other end, Thelxiepeia had collapsed backwards onto the ground, her enormous belly so huge it rose above the table, skin so taut it ought to burst any minute. With their sister incapacitated by her incredible greed, the other sirens had made good use of the chance to gorge themselves. Cradling their bellies and moaning, they leant back into Parthenope's gigantic gut, too glutted do much more. Beside her, Jalinda had finally stopped eating, if only because she had fallen asleep. Even her billowing blouse was tight around the huge sphere that was her stuffed belly. For some the feast was evidently a great success. Do not pretend you are unable to hear me! Kween continued. How many of my followers have graced my grand feast with their presence? Forty? "I can't say I have counted them, to be honest," Lila whispered; Jalinda had fallen asleep, but Magora might turn up, and she had no need to be caught seemingly talking to herself. I have! the naga in her head snapped. Told on by an ancient bauble, the sarcasm Lila did her best to keep out of her spoken words remarked. Rather Kween had choked on the serpent that stole it than retrieve the artefact. Enabling the sorceress to observe her and complain without getting off her divine backside was a crime the Elven orb deserved sinking into oblivion for. Let us hope Aina at least can bring me loyal adherents from Dunnar, Lila could imagine the malicious grin spreading across the fat naga's puffed-up face, to make up for your lack of diligence. Lila bit back her anger and spoke deliberately, "I... understand your concern..." Her belly was huge from the feast and her arms came to a natural rest on its great expanse, making her take note of how big she was: By the Ancestors, Magora's done a good job! "I will attend to it..." she promised. ...As soon as I'm able to walk again, she added to herself and drifted back into sleep.

* * *

The humble City of Dunnar was a just a small town in all but name, and easily overshadowed by the castle towering above it. The keep rose from the drab mass of simple houses like a crude hand, a massive foundation of roughly hewn rock reaching up with fingers of sturdy towers to the sky. It was quite simply the most impressive sight in all of Dunnar; thanks to the megalomania of a succession of ambitious monarchs it even outdid the new Temple of Kween being constructed in what had once been The Lady's Orchard – until Kween ate The Lady. The castle's main hall was of equal size. Despite walls several feet thick – the castle was certainly not made by refined Laguran architects – it could seat three hundred at huge tables, sturdy to contain the abundance needed to feed such a crowd. This evening, however, the great hall seated only one, though the head table did not strain any less because of it. "Your Highness, after a long search and thorough interrogation, I'm confident I have been able to capture all of the chiefs and kensmen to rise against you." Aina the Laguran strode casually into the hall, making her way to the seat of honour. She wore a simple but elegant dress; white with light green embroidery and the Maw of Kween prominent in violet on its breast. Her dirty-blond hair was done up in a strict fashion, tight and martial, as befitted the Overseer of Dunnar. Queen Eireen did not acknowledge Kween's chosen lieutenant as she approached. Too fat to reach the table in front of her without getting up, the Queen of Dunnar was waited on by two serving girls. Judging by the smudges on her royal cheeks – so plump they gave her a permanent squint – and the stains on her generous royal bosom, they had been working hard trying to keep up with Her Majesty's unbridled ravenousness. Aina stood at the queen's side for a while before she cleared her throat, just loud enough to be noted. If Eireen did so, however, she did not show it. The Laguran sighed patiently and leant a little closer to the gorging brunette: "Like I said, I have single-handedly apprehended all the traitors that sought to topple you." Aina lowered her voice: "I just thought you might want to, you know, say something about that?" "Can't talk," the queen mumbled hurriedly between bites. "Eating." "Oh for the love of..." the masseuse muttered to herself and motioned for the attendants to stop. Having no desire to argue with the Overseer, the two dark-haired girls complied. Eireen proceeded to lick her greasy fingers now that they were empty. Her fingers clean, she reached out for the roast duck on the table in front of her, but the fowl eluded her grasp. Sighing, the young monarch made a half-hearted attempt to get up – if slightly straightening her back could be called that – and promptly slumped back, resting her hands on her belly; hugely fat and greatly overfed: "What did you want?" Aina looked down her nose at the queen and considered her for a moment; Eireen knew that the sooner she heard what the Overseer had to say, the sooner she could eat, which explained her amiable compliance. Despite her massive girth, the queen retained a measure of her youthful prettiness, with her pale skin, flawless but for a few freckles, and button nose – even if her full cheeks were so swollen and her double chin so plump the rest of her features were hardly recognizable. "What do you want me to do with the prisoners?" Aina asked. It was obvious she wasn't going to get any praise. The queen shrugged. Aina managed to suppress another sigh. "Will you attend their execution?" The queen looked at the Laguran, mortified: "You can't kill them!" "They are traitors, you know." Eireen seemed to consider the Overseer's words. The rough sea of flesh about her fell uncharacteristically calm as she fell into thought, her face worried. "They need to be punished," Aina explained. With the queen so obviously looking her young age, she found it impossible not to sound patronizing. "Can we take their things?" one of the serving women – Indres? – shot in, averting her eyes and making herself inconspicuous as soon as she had delivered her suggestion. Aina was ready to ignore her impertinence, but Eireen asked the peasant girl to elaborate. Indres – or was it Kera? – glanced down at her mistress. The queen's gut spilled out from under the pale, exposed tops of generous breasts. Quaggy flesh poured forth from her mostly open bodice, huge love handles washing over the armrests of the chair, the bountiful table cutting into the queen's well-fed gut. "We could use the gold and goods..." Indres' eyes travelled up the curve of Eireen's belly where it rose, stuffed to enormity, above the table. "We could really use those goods..."

* * *

The Blood Furies had been put up in the temple's east wing, across from the dining hall. It was obvious none of them complained about their proximity to the kitchen, but it had had quite an impact on their waistlines. "This must be the best job we have ever had," Ubandi said drowsily in the Majari tongue. Despite having eaten until ready to burst at the feast, the mercenaries had eventually managed to get their bloated bellies back to their room. Too full to do much, they were now in bed, cradling swollen guts and groaning softly with the discomfort and pleasure of delicious excess. "I don't think I have eaten so well in my life," one of the other Furies agreed. She had a tall, flat nose and a sharp face that was starting to get softer, courtesy of the temple's bounty. Her thick thighs were already making her baggy Fury trousers not quite so loose-fitting and the delicate curve of her jaw was blurring into a burgeoning double chin. "We can tell, Nareyu," Vashni smirked from across the room. Her soft abdomen was a hard bulge from her efforts at the banquet table. "How long can we keep it up, you think?" "What do you mean?" Ubandi answered for her: "She has a point; all contracts come to an end." Unconsciously, she tugged at her vest, fighting valiantly to contain her ample bosom. "Who are going to hire us now?" "If I keep eating like this, I'll be too fat to fight in no time." Nareyu guiltily put a hand to her well-padded hip. "We'll all be too fat to fight," Bahamadhu observed sluggishly, so glutted she could barely keep her eyes open. Since the battle for Dunnar, she had only gotten heavier – she was half-again the size she had been at the battle – and she had been heavily encumbered even then. With the great feast, her normally rotund belly was almost spherical and so full it completely dwarfed even Rashoka's stuffed gut. "You will be too fat to move, darling," Vashni smiled amiably, ending with an involuntary belch. Rashoka had taken an interest in their conversation and shouted for them to speak up, that she might hear them without getting out of her bed. "Do you have any idea how long they'll be needing us, captain?" Ubandi called out. "Now that they are done fighting up north? Who knows?" Rashoka took a deep breath and groaned as she exhaled; her tubby gut was huge and taut following the feast. "I have – urp – a feeling we'll be needed... as long as we prove our worth..."

Part 2: It Never Rains First thing in the morning following the feast – after sleeping well after midday and eating a protracted breakfast – Lila set out to put Kween's complaints to rest. All the guests had been ordered to remain at the temple, so any 'despicable traitors', as Kween would probably call them, should be easy to spot. At the first farm Lila happened upon, there was smoke coming out of the main house. Apparently some had chosen to skip the summer feast. They probably have a sick child or something, Lila thought as she pulled up outside the house and knocked on the door. "Who is it?" a gruff man demanded from behind the closed door. He sounded tired, rather than hostile. "Lila, High Priestess of Kween!" Lila announced proudly. The door slid open to reveal a well-built Highlands farmer. "You," he said curtly. "Yes. Why aren't you at the summer feast, honouring your goddess?" The man scoffed and invited her inside: "Yer goddess, ye mean. Oyh don't wahnt anythin' to do with dot deck-a-dunt cult of yers!" "My what?" Lila exclaimed indignantly. "You know, that sounds awfully similar to heresy!" "It ain't heresy if yuh don't follow that foul relig'un yerself, the priest said. The temple o' Kween's full o' sin n' sloth n' glutt-on-ee." Inside stood a once plump Highlander woman at the stove. She was stirring pots, tasting stew with one hand, eating from a cup of butter with the other. A lot of tasting and eating had made sure she was now far more than plump. Her dress had to be new, because it fit her great girth, but her apron clearly showed how much bigger she had become; it barely fit around her fat gut, with no string to spare in the knot that almost disappeared between her well-padded rear and rolls of fat. "Look wut yuh've done to me wife. Thanks to ye, she no longer tends the gordens or herd the sheep. Ahl she do is eat ahl doyh! She's even fatter than m'cows!" "Oyh can hear yuh, y'know!" the farmer's wife mumbled indignantly between mouthfuls. She had pulled up a chair by the stove and seemed to debate whether she could be bothered to go over and argue with her husband to his face. Apparently, she decided to rest her hefty buttocks instead. Lila marvelled at the fat woman's gluttonous indolence for a moment, before her attention returned to the farmer: "After all the Temple has provided for you," Lila said angrily, leaving no doubt of his treacherousness. "This is how you repay us?" "Ain't nuthin' but pretty loys n' broybes to make us yer sloyves!" Lila's mouth tightened. She tried to contain her anger, but quickly failed: "And serve you will! I'll have someone down here to take the tithes you've been holding back first thing tomorrow! From your cold, dead hands if need be!" The fat wife's eyes grew wide at Lila's outburst. She drew her plump arms protectively around her food and began to cram anything edible she could reach into her mouth in a gluttonous frenzy, lest the delicious treats were taken away. "Do yer worst!" the farmer bellowed after the priestess as she left. "Ko'on will wahtch o'er us!"

* * *

In the temple's main hall, the salon that had grown up during the winter had survived into summer. Canvas frames now obscured the mounds of pillows and thick carpets. Lila felt certain it was Jalinda's idea, but at least the privacy had brought the warrior out of her room. The sirens, on the other hand, had become a rare sight. They were probably getting too fat to move about – and as long as food kept coming to their tower, Lila could not imagine them having any reason to leave. As a result, it was mostly Jalinda, Rashoka and sometimes Landis who lay on the plush pillows these days. Returning from her excursion, Lila waddled over to the secluded corner of the hall. She had pondered the Highlander's words all the way back to the temple and wasn't sure what to make of them. What she did know; she wasn't going to discuss it with Kween. It was late in the afternoon, and everyone had left the hall by the time Lila arrived. Everyone except Jalinda; no doubt because she was too stuffed to bother moving. The blonde warrior was snoring contently, one hand on a big belly freed from the constraints of yesterday's bodice; she was wearing only a blouse and a loose-fitting skirt. Lila sat down on the empty sofa in silence. Keeping still, she observed the sleeping warrior for a while; Jalinda had always been able to pack away great amounts of food if she was properly encouraged. As fat as she had become since arriving at the temple, when stuffed her gut looked even more colossal than it ever had a year ago, even after Ligeia's most excessive pampering. Even with the siren's indulgence, Jalinda had only grown thicker, not flabby, before. However, her appetite had grown with her waist, and with her gut now not only stuffed with the temple kitchen's delicacies, but getting quite hefty, it was getting harder to imagine the blonde as just a stout warrior. She was fat, Lila had to admit. And getting lazy, an unbidden voice opined. Lila ignored it and woke the sleeping bodyguard with a gentle shake of her shoulder. Jalinda's fat arm rippled at the touch. "Lila?" the warrior said sleepily, a broad smile on a face made wide by plump cheeks and a big double chin squashed against her neck. "Have you slept well?" Now awake, Jalinda put her hands on the sides of her enormous belly and nodded as much as her double chin allowed. "Is it time for dinner?" the warrior joked and clapped the distended flanks of her gut. "I need to eat more if I'm to get big and fat." If joking about it is how she tries to come to terms with her weight gain, more power to her. Lila knew the bodyguard well enough to see through the jesting. "I'm sure Ligeia will see to that," the priestess said amiably and patted Jalinda's belly. It was so swollen she could not reach atop it while seated. "Oh won't she..." Jalinda sighed. She screwed up her face: "I wish she wouldn't, but I wish she'd cook me dinner." "Believe me when I say I understand your dilemma. We're both a little too fond of good food to stay svelte sylphs, I suspect." With difficulty, Jalinda inched herself a little upright in her pillow throne. Her gorged gut hung heavy with the feast she had been fed and her thighs were so fat they were forced apart as she propped herself up. "I don't have to be skinny," the bodyguard said, "but I'm starting to become really fat." She gazed through the small gap between two of the canvas screens, off into the distance. "Do you think I'll get as fat as Parthenope?" Lila swallowed and could not help herself from looking at the blonde's huge belly, her wide posterior and her bulging thighs. "Don't answer that," Jalinda laughed and gave her belly another hearty pat. "Even Rashoka doesn't comment on my weight when I give her reason to." Good for you, Lila said silently. She was pretty sure she meant that sincerely, but there was always that insidious voice... "Well, what brings you here? You know I only want to be brought food and idle chatter!" Lila chortled along with the bodyguard, then sighed: "Trouble, as always." "Don't say that." Jalinda smiled fondly. "We sometimes talk about other things as well." "It doesn't seem that way," Lila disagreed, but Jalinda nevertheless urged her to elaborate. Obliging, the priestess told about her meeting with the farmer and explained why she had been at his farm in the first place. "I wouldn't be surprised if a priest of Ko'on is here to stir up trouble. The only thing a Kuneiran knows how to do is ruining other people's fun," Jalinda concluded once the tale was told. "There are Lagurans who worship Ko'on as well," Lila pointed out, unable to resist being contrary. "Only hill people," the bodyguard stated contently. Hill people like Cevro Kathinos? Lila wondered. "So long as you realize your faith is false," the old marquis smiled kindly in her mind's eye. "Well, Kween is all worked up about this already. I'm not sure if I want her to know that someone is stealing her chattel, I mean sycophants, I mean adherents." "What do you intend to do?" Jalinda looked into the priestess' eyes, propped up on her elbows; she had stopped cradling her gut, so she no longer appeared even more fat and bloated than she really was. "I don't know! I'm so tired of all this crap..." Jalinda reached out to console her, but was hindered by her ponderousness and heavy gut. To avail the struggling warrior, Lila got up and plopped down on the pillow mound. She took Jalinda's hand in hers and burst out with sudden laughter. On the other side of the canvas a wide-eyed Rashoka put down the two mugs of ale she had brought with her and moved softly back to her barracks.

* * *

"You can't kill them," Aina scoffed, echoing Queen Eireen's words. She sat in her quarters, slumped in her chair, wearing only her shift. She had taken off her white dress and thrown it onto the bed the moment she entered. Now she eyed the crumpled pile and grumbled: "Get this province into shape, indeed." Seizing the traitor's lands and giving it to loyal followers – loyal to her, at least – would ensure some semblance of stability in Dunnar, and their gold and goods were welcome additions to empty treasuries and pantries. But it also meant she had over fifty mouths crammed into the castle dungeons to feed until the queen decided what to do with them. And Queen Eireen had a hard time making decisions on an empty belly, which was most of the time. Or while sleeping, which was the rest of the time. "Honour, my ass," Aina hissed into the candlelight. She had been responsible for saving Kween's efforts in Dunnar. Her mercenaries had saved the day at the Lady's Orchard, not Lila's pampered darkskins and certainly not that bloated bodyguard. Whatever Drakaina Sybaris saw in her was a mystery. Perhaps she meant to eat her when her usefulness was at an end. That has to be about the only thing Jalinda would be better at than me, Aina thought sarcastically, her hand sliding unconsciously down her slender thigh. Her and Lila. And nevertheless, for all her effort, the blue-haired priestess was the one at Kween's side, while she was stuck in this lousy backwater with dozens of prisoners. None of which she was allowed to execute. "...can't kill them..." Aina repeated under her breath. The queen didn't appear to care she had rounded up all the worst traitors to her rule. That surly marshal of hers might appreciate what she had done, but he hated her too much to consider doing so. "The least you could do..." In her mind, Aina heard Kween's words: "Do you have any more traitors for me?" Perhaps someone could appreciate her handiwork after all.

* * *

Lila strode surely when she passed by the battered columns flanking Kween's sanctum. As always, talking to Jalinda had lightened her mood. Having decided what she should tell her mistress also helped: "I really don't want to deal with a bunch of disillusioned peasants right now," she had told the bodyguard once her spontaneous laughter had subsided. "It's probably nothing, anyway. Still, Kween will undoubtedly blow it out of proportion when I tell her." Jalinda had smiled kindly; her fleshy face had grown less severe and more comforting with the added weight, Lila realized. "Then don't." It was good advice, Lila thought. But not as good as having someone who understood, but was not out to get her; someone who did not comfort only with greasy pies and fried onions. It made sense, though; both priestess and bodyguard shared a common experience being close to selfish, serpentine mistresses. Mine's bigger, though, Lila marvelled. Cooped up in her steadily shrinking sanctum, the great goddess' size never ceased to amaze her priestess. At the head of the nave stood a massive throne of grasping, golden tendrils, its tentacles shimmering in the flickering light. Kween had begun to outgrow the throne as soon as she got it, but lately she had gotten so huge she had no hope of fitting in it at all; most of her swollen body lay sprawled across the nave. The huge pile of pillows in the limestone throne's sky blue embrace propped up the naga as she lay on her back, squeezing the naga's vast blue gut into bursting rolls of fat as it was pushed up by a tail so fat it outdid even Lila's girth several times over – and too fat to coil around a huge fairy any more, it had turned out. Too enormous to be contained, the reclining sorceress' humongous belly pushed her hefty breasts up. Squashed into her face, they seemed so large they threatened to take over her head. Six huge arms bulging with fat were sprawled lazily about the goddess as she lay back, unmoving and languid. Lila came to a halt in front of the immense bulge of her goddess' gut. She waited for a while, until she realized Kween was asleep; with the naga's enormously fat cheeks it was hard to tell. Waking a sleeping naga was not something to be done lightly, but Lila was not in the mood to carefully coax the torpid sorceress to stir. Instead, she stepped onto the end of the naga's tail and climbed carefully up the plump coils. She came to a halt in the shadow of Kween's huge belly where it protruded ponderously over her hips. The vast blue filled the priestess' vision as she stood facing it. Steadying herself, Lila swung back her hand, hesitated for a moment, and gave the billowing blue mass a hard slap. The impact sent ripples through a sea of flab, followed by sluggish waves that spread across Kween's gut, setting her hefty love handles aquiver. The slap and subsequent fleshquake was evidently sufficient to rouse Kween from her sleep. Her white eyes flew open, wide with surprise. Hissing and growling, she threw herself forward, but lying down the huge mound of her gut proved to ponderous to shift and she was not even off the silken pillows before crashing back into them. "It's just me, Kween!" Lila shouted and hopped off the naga's tail before the sorceress could make another attempt and crush her beneath a unending stream of flab. "What... do you think... you are... doing?!" Kween growled and panted, but remained reclining against her throne. "I wish to report on your former concern, Your Gloriousness," Lila explained. Seeing the sorceress make no effort to that effect she added: "Don't get up; I'll come over where you can see me." Kween obliged her and did not move a muscle, not even caressing her fat belly as she waited for. her priestess to make the lengthy detour around her vast bulk. As Lila came into view, the naga peered down at her over cheeks so fat the priestess had to stay a few steps back from her goddess if she wished to remain seen. "I have asked after those missing at your feast, Your Gloriousness. It seems there was a... small disturbance down the Avis and some of the peasants were afraid to leave. It's been dealt with." Kween looked down at her, studying her carefully. From below it looked to Lila as if the naga's double chin was about to swallow her face. "Dealt with? Are you certain?" The priestess nodded. "Very well. But you would do well to remain on your guard. It is important we are sufficiently prepared for any further... disturbances." "Of course!" Lila dismissed Kween's concerns with a smile and a wave of her hand. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have... things to attend to." Kween nodded, her head barely moving. She watched as Lila disappeared behind the vast blue mounds of her body. Glowing white eyes followed the priestess once she reappeared beyond the naga's belly, and out of sight once more. Waiting a few moments more, Kween motioned for one of her attendants to appear from beside her throne, barely moving one of her fingers to do so. "What is it, Mistress Goddess?" Isilo the Laguran asked. "Tell me, girl..." the goddess said slowly, eyeing the pointy-faced masseuse. "…tell me what you know of the Church of Ko'on."

* * *

Life was good, or at least so good as it could be while at the mercy of a megalomaniac naga. For once Lila was free from seizing kingdoms, chasing dangerous artefacts and treating with hostile humanoids. Thinking she deserved some time off, she had spent the last days at the main hall lounge, resting on plush pillows and blathering on with Jalinda and Landis. Absorbed in the idle conversation and numbed by her comfortable seat, she distractedly allowed herself to be waited on by Ligeia. "I haven't heard from Aina in a while," Lila mumbled groggily, nibbling at a fried chicken liberally covered in creamy sauce. She chuckled: "Who wants to bet Eireen's eaten her?" "I know I could've gobbled her up right now," Jalinda exclaimed; she had already eaten her appetizer, "Where's that dinner?" "Don't you think about anything but food?" Landis chortled, one hand on the round belly peeking out from her waistcoat. Jalinda smiled back: "Only when I'm hungry. Aren't you starving?" "I could eat," Landis admitted with a little smile in the corner of her mouth. Ligeia's cooking was hard to resist – and as far as Lila knew, the villager had been too busy eating in the main hall to visit Naava's abode lately, though she did not say as much. That pudgy belly spoke volumes, however. "I could go see what's keeping Ligeia," Lila suggested. She had absolutely no desire to move her generous behind, but she did not want to see Jalinda go hungry. The bodyguard declined her offer. "At least have some of my chicken." Lila reached out to hand over the bird to Jalinda. Sunk deep into their piles of cushions, the two women struggled against their stuffed bellies, huge thighs and hefty buttocks. Straining to reach each other, both priestess and bodyguard burst into laughter. "Hey Magora!" Lila shouted as she laughed. "Get over here; I need you to help me with this bird! Jalinda seems to be too fat to reach it!" "And Lila's too lazy to give it to me!" the blonde warrior roared. Joined by a wry-faced Landis, the two continued to laugh. Of course, no Magora came; Lila had sent her to fetch tithes from the surrounding farms. "Ah, looks like you are about to freed from your torment," Landis declared. "I think I saw Ligeia heading this way." The siren cook looked confused from Lila to Jalinda and back again as the two tried to stop laughing. She wrung her shabby apron and turned her eyes on the floor. "What's wrong?" Landis wondered. There was concern in her voice, but she remained reclining in her pillow mound, her hands folded over her pot belly. "I... we... there's no mutton for the stew, mistress Landis. I am so sorry mistress Jalinda, high priestess!" "That's fine," Jalinda assured the siren, drying tears of mirth from her plump cheeks. "How about some more of that chicken?" The cook bowed her head; "As you wish, mistress," then hesitated. "Ligeia...?" "There's nothing left of that, either, mistress!" Ligeia despaired when pressed on the matter. Lila couldn't help herself from chuckling at the siren's exaggerated reaction. Opposite her, Landis finally sat up and gave the distressed cook a pat on the arm: "There, there," the villager smiled. "You just take whatever you can find, okay? I'm sure it will be delicious." In her pillow pile, Jalinda made a face and grabbed her big gut: "That would be the least of my worries."

* * *

It was evening by the time the wagon train rumbled into Evallt. The village was one of the largest in the north and, situated just downstream from the former rapids of the upper Avis river, it was a small but important port for goods destined further north. Three of the ten wagons that had set out from the temple were already fully loaded with vegetables, newly churned butter and kegs of cider. A further four carried those cows and sheep too fat to walk after them. All in all, things had gone quite smoothly, but Magora thought nothing of it. Nor did she think twice about the villagers seeping into the thoroughfare before her, all crossed arms and scowls. On the wagons, the drivers looked uncertainly at each other. "Uh, hi?" the aide ventured. "I'm here for your, uh, contributions?" "Ah!" a voice from the crowd exclaimed. The sullen peasants parted and out stepped a slender man in a tight-fitting black coat. The garment reached down to his ankles, a slit reaching barely to the man's knees to allow some movement, and went all the way up to his chin, covering the man's neck with its high collar. Tall and straight, the man looked as if he had swallowed a Djapperian bitterfruit, eyes contemptuous beneath his wide-brimmed hat as he observed the brown-haired little girl on the wagon. "Ze temple of greed comes to steal vat humble farmers haf toiled to produce!" The dark-haired Kuneir man held his black walking stick high, pointing at Magora with his free hand. Something flashed across his pale face and he called out: "Let not ze followers of false gods continue to rob you to sate zeir sinful excess!" His voice was calm but firm, yet his words carried through the crowd like a war horn. "Rob??" a confused Magora shouted. No one saw fit to answer her. The Kuneiran showed her the palm of his hand, urging her not to come closer: "Return to your gluttonous mistress ant come not back here. Ze Temple of Dusk vatches over zis place!" "But, but..." The priest shook his head and let his hand fall to his side. Around him, the villagers began to press forward. "We ain't yer sloyves!" a man from the crowd shouted, waving a cudgel against the caravan. "Grow yer own corn!" "Enough stealin'!" "But, but... priestess Lila said..." Magora protested weakly. "Bugger yer fat mistress! We don't want her loys!" The mob spilled forth to surround the wagons, shouting angrily. Atop her cart, Magora's eyes flitted about the crowd. Barely visible among the roiling masses, she could still see the Kuneiran priest. He gave her a look of pity: you should have left. Beside her, the wagon driver suddenly disappeared into the angry mob. Magora looked after him, blind to the hand grabbing at her wrist. "Ko'on have mercy on yuh!" a middle-aged woman hissed at Magora as she was pulled under. Surrounded by grasping hands and trampling feet, the aide was to terrified to notice the angry shouts quickly changing in tone throughout the crowd. "Yoo be gettin' back!" a woman suddenly began shouting over Magora's head. A strong hand pulled her to her knees and the aide found herself facing a big, brown gut spilling over brightly coloured trousers. Shaking with fear and relief, Magora buried her face in the soft flesh and began to sob. "Up!" Ubandi said uncomfortably, hauling the shivering aide to her feet. "We be gettin' yoo out of here." "Admartush!" someone called out in Majari and Magora found herself staggering after Ubandi. Around her, she could see bitter faces and spilled vegetables.

* * *

She was supposed to have been in her office, but having spent all day eating Lila felt far too stuffed to sit at her desk. Instead she had Ligeia help her back to her quarters and into bed. She would rather have stayed downstairs with Jalinda and Landis, but she was supposed to pretend to be working. Lila had already spent far too much time in the main hall with those two these past days. She suspected it was the same for them; Lila was pretty sure they had things they were supposed to do as well. Constantly eating had numbed her to how full she was, but now that she was alone in bed Lila realized she was about to burst. Unknowingly, she had been stuffing herself so chock-full her swollen belly throbbed with the pressure. How much have I been eating? Lila moaned in her mind; she was so stuffed it hurt to speak out loud. The priestess was disturbed from her complaints when someone tapped the door with their foot. Lila groaned for the visitor to enter and in came a burly man carrying a keg of wine. Lila hoped the rich Ceto vintage she had ordered brought up would dull the pain in her gut. The peasant put down the barrel on the nightstand, handed the priestess a mug and bowed his head. "Can't reach!" Lila complained, waving the mug towards the keg and failing to reach the tap with her other hand. The burly man forgot his reverence and made an amused face. Lila did not notice. Grabbing the wine cask, the peasant balanced it on the shelf over the bed. Carefully manoeuvring it in place, he told Her Holiness to open her mouth and barely opened the tap. So slow was the stream of rich, red liquid, Lila needed not touch the tap to stop it until the entire keg had emptied into her mouth. Flush with wine, her discomfort only a numb reminder of her excess, the priestess drifted into sweet sleep.

The next morning Lila stirred slowly, feeling fatter than ever – too fat to get out of bed, in fact. Or perhaps it was laziness? The priestess chose not to dwell on it. "Maggie!" she shouted; she was in the mood for a long bath. She conveniently forgot the fact that she was getting too big for the bathtub. With no brown-haired girl rushing to attend her, the priestess called out for her aide again. But when the door finally opened, it was Landis who entered. At first, it had been strange to see the normally energetic villager laze around with her and Jalinda, but now it seemed almost wrong to Lila that the serving woman did anything more active than stuffing her face. "You called, Your Holiness?" Landis said, ready to serve as always. "Where's Maggie?" "I'm afraid she's not feeling too well. I offered to step in for her." Why? Lila thought. Shouldn't you be getting pampered, coddled and ultimately fattened up with Jalinda? "There's a matter you ought to hear about," the villager cast a look on the empty wine keg, "but we thought we shouldn't wake you." Good call, Lila agreed. I needed a good night's sleep to digest all those pies you and Ligeia have been tricking me into eating. Yeah, that's the word.

When Lila entered the dining hall, Ligeia, Magora, Rashoka and Tarrl were already present. Upon seeing the priestess, the innkeeper muttered an excuse and left. "He's just a bit miffed you ate his supper yesterday," Landis explained. His what? Lila wondered, but thought no more of it. "Where's Jalinda?" "With the sirens, Your Holiness." Lila would have preferred to have the blonde with her, but did not want to bother her and so said nothing. Instead she sat down to listen to her aide's story. "What about the wagons?" the priestess inquired as soon as the girl had finished. "G-gone, priestess..." Magora said, trembling. Landis swayed and waddled over to the girl and put a hand on her shoulder. "Never mind that. Just be glad Rashoka and her Furies found you when they did." "Yes, that was most fortunate..." Lila glanced over at the fat mercenary. "Tell me, why were you passing by Evallt just when Maggie was attacked?" Rashoka hesitated. "I... We... Kween told us to, uh, patrol the surrounding land." The dusky woman shrugged. "I guess she considers this business with the priest more serious than you do... Your Holiness." Lila gave the mercenary captain a hard look, but said nothing. Instead she turned to Ligeia: "Let me guess; our store rooms aren't looking too well?" "A-almost empty," the siren eventually admitted. "Empty??" Lila exclaimed. "I can't say I've noticed that!" They had been eating like queens even yesterday! "Actually, Your Holiness, the villagers, well, they haven't been eating too well lately," Landis said. There was guilt in her voice; this had obviously been a recent revelation to her as well. Lila sighed. "I take it just asking the people of Evallt nicely is going to help. We'll just have to buy more from the Lagurans to tide us over until this little problem is settled. Aren't they supposed to come in today? Maggie, won't you go to Tarrl and see if the merchants haven't left yet?" The aide blinked tears out of her eyes and hesitated before nodding. "I'll go," Landis assured the girl, shooting Lila an exasperated look. Puzzled, the priestess watched as the villager's wide rear swayed, rose and fell and disappeared through the door. She still isn't fat enough to get stuck, then, Lila found herself observing. Rashoka interrupted her thoughts as soon as Landis and her enormous posterior was gone, however: "Your Holiness," she ventured, "considering the current state of things, may I suggest the Furies stay and defend the Temple?" How is that different from before? Lila wondered, but nevertheless nodded in acceptance: "Hopefully this small insolence will be over quickly." As soon as this black priest moves on, people will return to the fold. They are only peasants after all. A creak from the door heralded Landis' return to the dining hall. "The Lagurans have not arrived," the villager told her, markedly out of breath from the trip. "But someone left you this letter." Lila took it into her hand and studied her name, elegantly scribed on expensive paper. This does not bode well, she decided. Your Holiness, Lila of Hunger, the letter began courteously. I hope this letter finds you in good health and your cult flourishing. There was that word again; cult. I believe it is time we settled our accounts. Certain events force me to call back the little favours I have extended to you and your Temple. Even if I am certain you have complete control over your finances, I have taken the liberty to include quick summary at the end of this letter. May your future bring prosperity, Drakaina Sybaris PS: The North Avis Trading Company informs me they will happily continue to supply your esteemed Temple as soon as these small matters are settled. Small matters? Lila scoffed, scanning the rest of the letter. Her eyes fell on the numbers towards the bottom. She looked them over again. "Two-hundred thousand Crests??" the priestess shouted and threw away the paper as if it were some poisonous snake. Curious, Landis picked up the letter and quickly looked it over. "No," she corrected. "That's the money we will have to get in order to pay for the interest." "Sweet Gods be merciful..." Lila gasped. Small matters indeed! "Kween doesn't need to know this yet!" the priestess said firmly once she had been able to collect herself. "Landis, you and Jalinda will meet me in my office right away. Now, if you will all excuse me, I have to drown my despair in some buttery sauce."

* * *

"By Uron!" Jalinda exclaimed jokingly as she waddled into Lila's office. Fresh from the sirens' tower, she was draped in nothing but a voluminous white robe, the soft fabric clinging tightly to her love handles and rear despite its size. "Have you seen how huge Thelxiepeia has become?? They're treating her like Parthenope over there!" The big warrior was about to shake her head and chuckle when she saw the looks on the faces of those already present and froze in her step: "What's going on?" "I just got a letter from your boss; she wants her money back," Lila said gravely. The warrior remained still for a moment, her only move to let her eyes wander from the priestess to the villager seated opposite her and back again. "Judging from your looks, I'm guessing we don't have those Crests?" the big blonde ventured. "No," Lila sighed. "We have been borrowing money just to pay the interest we owe the North Avis Trading Company. Not to mention the fantastical sums Kween seems to have spent on jewellery off the books and the damages we owe the dwarves of Kargol Garkhelgoukh." "Damages?" The bodyguard sat down on an empty chair. "Apparently, they had a 'No Waterborne Transport' clause in their contract," the priestess explained. "And I do not want to get on their bad side in case we need to do some remodelling." Kween isn't the only one getting too big for this place, she might have added. At another time, she would – and she and Jalinda would have joked about it. "Even robbing every farmer in the area wouldn't be enough to cover the interest alone." "We could give her the farms?" Jalinda suggested. In her homeland, tenant farming was common, unlike in the Highlands. "Do you think she'd accept that?" Lila countered. The Lamia would not have done this if she wasn't up to something, and that something certainly did not involve letting them off easily. "No," the warrior admitted. And besides, they aren't ours to give, Lila reminded herself. In her chair, Landis straightened her new shirt. Worn beneath her shrinking waistcoat, the cream- coloured shirt covered the pot-belly now exposed by the dark red garment. "What do you think lady Sybaris will do if we do not pay?" Lila shook her head. "It doesn't matter. With our stores almost depleted, we are dependent on getting more food from the Trading Company." "What about those farmers we aren't robbing?" Jalinda interjected. "We might lack sugar and Majari pears, but at least we'll have food." "That could be a problem," Lila said and told the warrior about Magora's encounter with the black priest. "Then... we'll starve?!" Jalinda exclaimed, more anxious than she probably realized. The priestess gave her a meaningful look: "Someone must go to Drakaina and convince her to extend the loans a little further, at least until this thing blows over." Hopefully, she'll be too pleased to see us beg to refuse. Jalinda gave a little smile. "So this is why you interrupted my massage?" "You're still her bodyguard," Lila said. A few hundred pounds ago, at least. "And I can't go, obviously." I'm needed at the temple. That, and she had no desire to meet with the Lamia that tried to eat her, in the house she was captured and fattened up to become a proper meal. "I'll do my best," the warrior assured her. "And maybe I should bring Ligeia with me? She can be quite... persuasive." Lila nodded, though she suspected Jalinda was just afraid she would miss the siren's cooking. "Very well. And you will need to take the ship; we don't have much time." Finally they would be able to put the steel-clad galley to better use than ferrying cheese and cattle across Banshee Lake. "Landis, could you inform Isilo?" The villager nodded and manoeuvred her gigantic butt off her seat. "Do you think mistress Sybaris still trusts me after all this time?" Jalinda wondered once the bottom-heavy woman had left the room. Probably not, Lila had to admit. The secretive Lamia had not come as far as she had by being too trusting. Instead she said, "You'll do fine. Now hurry up and get your things; remember we'll be up here starving while you're stuffing your face with Ceto pudding and stuffed samoras." The bodyguard grinned and got up to leave. "Oh, and Jali?" the priestess called after her. "There's probably no need to mention our, uh, priestly troubles."

When Lila left her office for the main hall a while later, it turned out Jalinda had taken her joking command to heart and hurried her packing. The bodyguard sat on her travel chest, trying to convince Ligeia that her sisters would be taken good care of in her absence. "I will look after them for you," Landis assured the siren cook. She grinned: "Thelxiepeia might eat me if I don't." I would not be surprised, Lila thought. Even Thelxiepeia might have trouble biting over that huge posterior, though. "Where's Isilo?" "She had something she needed to do before she left," Landis told the priestess. "I've had the men prepare the ship." "Good. Just make sure they don't bring aboard too much provisions." Jalinda made a face. "Don't worry," Lila smiled and pinched the bodyguard's cheek. "Half of it will be just for you." "Just half!? I will return here just skin and bones!" Lila patted the blonde's head patronizingly. "I'm sure your mistress will rectify that once you arrive." "If so, negotiations might get protracted," Jalinda smirked. Lila chuckled, then turned to the west doorway: "Isilo! There you are. Ready to go?" "Sure," the fresh captain shrugged. "It will be nice to see Lagura again."

Part 3: All Roads Lead to Libe With the treacherous rapids of the upper Avis gone, the metal galley easily made its way south in Isilo's hands. The masseuse had little experience piloting a ship, but the instruction she had received from former admiral Cevro Kathinos was sufficient to bring the vessel down the river. Running downstream, the current and the wind served to carry them forward, and the ship's alchemical steam spheres stood idle. Jalinda did not quite eat the half of the ship's rations Lila had jokingly promised her, but Ligeia certainly did not starve her either. The bodyguard spent most of her time in her cabin, occupying herself with eating. "Are we there yet?" she would ask Ligeia when the siren brought the food she steadily demanded, sighing with relief each time she got a "no" in return – or was it because of her gut straining against her waistband? Without a big, blue naga shouting for them to go faster – or an experienced naval officer at the helm – the trip took longer than the last time the steel galley had gone this way. When darkness fell, Isilo prudently put the ship at anchor. Therefore, it was three full days before they reached the white walls and glaucous tiled roofs of Libe.

* * * The burning wick in front of her was all Aina saw. She was brooding. She knew it, and she did not care. From here you could travel the rivers of the Woodmarch south, and you would be in Lagura in no time. But they weren't going to Lagura. Aina and her band of prisoners would be continuing along the muddy roads westward. West, hoping the blue-haired ball of blubber had not yet poisoned Kween's mind against her. The captive chiefs and kennsmen were under strict guard outside the village, but Aina had no desire to sleep outdoors more than was necessary. Already her back ached from the long ride south from Dunnar. And so she found herself sitting in the common room of this inn, staring into the flame. "Come on, have some baked chicken!" the voice of the innkeeper interrupted her thoughts. "Eat something; you're practically wasting away." Compared to the innkeeper herself, Aina could agree it might seem so: The bountiful blonde was quite fat, her plump belly bobbing up and down as she heaped dish after dish onto the masseuse's table. "I'm fine, thank you. I've had enough unnecessary tummy aches, you know," Aina told the enthusiastic innkeeper sourly. She had mostly given up on overeating. "Oh my," said Wren, taken aback by her guest's tone. "Are you sure none of your companions would like something to eat?" "No!" The innkeeper looked over the feast she had laid out, dried sweat from her brow, and cast a glance back to the kitchen. "Oh my," she said again. "Phix will have more than enough to eat tonight." Putting the tray of chicken, dripping with garlic butter, under her arm, Wren stepped over to the sole tapestry on the common room wall. She pulled it aside, revealing a window that had been extended down to resemble a doorway. It took a moment before Aina realized that, level with the innkeeper's pudgy midsection, was a large head. Already much larger than any human's the sphinx's face was so bloated Aina could hardly make out her yellow eyes. Beneath her gently sloping nose and full lips, her fleshy cheeks met a double chin so fat her head rested more than a foot from the reinforced doorsill, so wide it bulged over the doorframe. "She's too lazy to keep her head up," Wren explained to Aina, giggling. "You hungry, darling?" The sphinx made no reply, but ate eagerly when the first piece of chicken was stuffed into her mouth. Aina looked on, fascinated, as the fat innkeeper went back and forth between the table and the ravenous sphinx, then when the food on the table ran out, from the kitchen. "I'm coming, darling," Wren panted, carrying a cauldron of pottage, "the kitchen help is working as fast as he can!" With the feast continuing unabated around her, Aina eventually got up from her table and went around to the back of the building. As she approached Phix from the side, she realized why she hadn't noticed the sphinx in the darkness when she first came; The thing was so huge she had thought it a house! Even if the creature's weight made her belly billow several feet to each side, until she was as wide as she was long, it was still so huge her paws did not touch the ground. The limbs themselves were in danger of being engulfed in the cascade of flab but for their own great size, so fat Aina had seen no tree that was thicker. Even the sphinx's serpent's tail was so fat it looked as if she was unable to move it. Was it even fatter than Kween's? "This would have been a proper meal for Kween, not a few scrawny northmen!" Aina muttered under her breath. If only the naga had known better than to send her from her side; Aina would have seen her fed and pampered until she was ten times larger than this thing! There will be ample time for that once I bring her my gift and am restored to her good graces, Aina told herself as she walked back inside. Would it be possible to steal the enormous sphinx, perhaps? In the common room, Wren was still busy feeding her pet and captor. How does such a fat woman keep going like that? "Ah, there you are, miss Overseer!" the innkeeper called out, breathing heavily. "A messenger passed by with a letter for you." Aina picked up the letter from the table and opened it. Inside was a short message in Laguran. "Innkeep," she said tersely, once she was finished reading. "Cancel my reservation; we're leaving."

* * *

There were a number of places high priestess Lila would rather have been. In bed, for example. Unfortunately, she had a job to do, and so she had squeezed into her constricting chair of office to hold council. She had called Rashoka and Landis to her, but it seemed a puny assembly to address their troubles. Lila considered those she had not invited: Naava she had barely glimpsed at the summer feast. The enchantress should probably be set to some task; not doing anything had seen her plump up more than ever. Lila found herself wondering how fat she was now and imagined the crevasse in the west wing completely filled with pale, quaggy flesh. As for Thelxiepeia, perhaps the elder siren could be a substitute for Jalinda. After all, the bodyguard spent a lot of time with the fat siren and her sisters. Lila suspected Rashoka still outdid her in military matters, even if she wasn't sure who she trusted less of a Majari and a siren. "You both know why you are here," Lila finally said, sighing. "What are we going to do about this guy messing with our followers?" "Can't we just invite him over here for dinner?" Rashoka grinned and patted the pot belly spilling over her trousers. Considering how they had won over Naava and Jalinda, it wasn't entirely far fetched. Nevertheless, the priestess shook her head: "Have you ever met a Priest of Dusk? Those people can't sit down to eat for the stick up their ass and would consider a sip of mead base hedonism." "I'm sure he wouldn't be able to resist Ligeia's cooking, though that doesn't help us much." Carefully balancing her wide rear on the chair she occupied, Landis joined the discussion: "Can't you Furies go out and apprehend this priest? At least he won't be able to poison people's minds against us." Rashoka opened her mouth to voice an objection, then fell silent and into thought before answering: "Just like that? Let's... let's not be hasty. We don't want to create any, uh, martyrs. I think we should wait and see." "We don't have time," Lila reminded her. "This matter needs to be resolved quickly." "But this priest business is the best thing that-" Rashoka coughed and grinned disarmingly. "-the best thing to do about this priest business is not to rush in." Landis nodded. "Look at what happened to Magora." "Very well," Lila acquiesced. "Rashoka, I want your Furies to patrol the Highlands, keeping a track of this priest's whereabouts and his activities. I'd send the sirens, but I doubt any of them can fly anymore." She turned to the bottom heavy villager: "Landis, stay here. You are going to spread the Word of Kween, so you will be needing a few lessons in priestessing."

* * *

The river port of Libe, north of the Avros gorge, was bustling with longshoremen loading cargo from the South Seas onto river barges destined for the towns of the inland. Everywhere, lesser merchants were hawking their wares, having gambled on being able to sell some of their goods before having to pay extra to ferry them north. River captains quenched their thirst in the shade of small stalls serving cheap drinks. A weathered man with a peg leg fed the strange winged lizard on his shoulder an anchovy. Another captain, an ageing woman as scantily clad as a Giroan courtesan, spat tobacco at a passing dockworker, daring him to take affront. Grumbling, the man wiped the wad off his shoulder and continued his work without so much as a glance at the foul-mannered river captain. For all the strange sights, the party from the steel galley still caught the attention of the locals. The half-naked siren stole the most looks – a curious sight in a city greatly suspicious of non- humans – but Jalinda's great size was also a source of astonishment for the jaded locals. The blonde had already been tall and stout for a woman, but with a big gut straining against her blouse, hefty breasts weighing down her bodice, not to mention huge love handles and thighs adding to her width, her bulk had become that much more imposing. Walking with those two, dark, unassuming Isilo might as well have been invisible. The three were halted at the River Gate by the guards besides the customs house. "Excuse me, miss; surely you do not mean to bring that... thing into the city?" one of them said politely, eyeing the cheerful Ligeia suspiciously. "Come on now," Jalinda winked, then hesitated, puzzled. "Luco? It's me!" No recognition came over the moustachioed guardsman: "Do I know you?" His eyes narrowed. "Jalinda...?" he whispered. "Has it been so long? You certainly know how to make a girl feel old!" "Yeah..." the astonished man mumbled, his wide eyes trying hard to find Jalinda the guardswoman beneath all that soft flesh. "Old..." "Jalinda!?" Luco's companion exclaimed. "Where have you been? The old witch got you locked up in her pantry the last year?" "Thank you, Ermini." Jalinda curled her lip and gave the lanky man a sour look. "I'm on my way to mistress Sybaris right now, in fact. Why don't you let me through – if you think I still fit through the gate." "Maybe with some lubricant," Ermini said thoughtfully, cupping his chin. "Of course!" Luco interjected. Stepping between his fellow guard and the annoyed bodyguard, he made a sweeping gesture to welcome them into the city. Jalinda gave him a grateful smile and began to walk. "You might want to throw a blanket on your siren, though!" the guard called after them as they left the docks behind and entered magnificent Libe.

A single bridge connected Drakaina Sybaris' magnificent abode to the rest of the city. Hanging over the Avros gorge like some glittering spider in the sunlight, the only thing keeping the mansion from plummeting into the river below was numerous slender arches, perfectly balanced to hold its weight. Jalinda was more worried if the bridge could hold her weight. Situation reversed, it was now the bodyguard's turn to knock on this door and ask to be admitted. The woman occupying Jalinda's old position on the other side of the door had to be a decade older than the blonde warrior. Her caramel skin and large nose suggested she was of Djappar. Her black hair reached her shoulders, but thanks to her severe haircut, not a single strand of hair troubled her face. "I'm here to see mistress Sybaris," Jalinda said confidently. Seeing no reaction on the Djapperian's face, she added: "My name is Jalinda...? I'm the lady's bodyguard...?" On the other side of the door, the dark-haired woman eyed her coolly, before suddenly bursting out with laughter. "Bo-ho-ho-bodyguard?" she gasped incredulously. "The lady's taster, surely?" "It's been a while," Jalinda huffed. "Now let me through!" "So long as you don't get stuck," the new bodyguard snickered and let them in.

It would seem the Djapperian had been told who Jalinda was, because they were admitted into Drakaina Sybaris' quarters at once. The architect sat at her desk, calmly adding strokes with her brush to her most recent schematic without hesitation. Red hair bands held her black hair back from her ashen face and delicate features. Dressed for work, she was clad in a voluminous maroon robe, silver roses growing all over it. "Jalinda," the architect said softly, not taking her predatory eyes from her work. "Do you bring news of our most beloved Goddess?" Eventually, she put down her brush and turned to face her visitors. The lamia raised an eyebrow. "Cratayis, great mother of the deep!" she exclaimed. "Look at you! I can see why the blue-haired girl wanted you out of her pantry." "That's not exactly the reason I'm here," Jalinda said. Or was it? With stores dwindling at the temple, did Lila think she ate too much. It wasn't as if Sybaris was wrong in saying she had really ballooned since last they met. "Whatever is it that brings you to my home, then?" the architect inquired innocently. Jalinda swallowed. After trudging through the city, she could really use a comfortable chair. "I have come to ask you to give us – uh, the Temple – another month to pay back the money you are owed." "Oh, but I need that money," Drakaina Sybaris told her, her voice sweet poison. "You look tired. Akhremi, why don't you show our guests to their room and we can discuss this later?"

"Well, that worked out fine," Isilo sighed as she lay staring at the ceiling of their new quarters. Ligeia sat on her bed, knees up to her chin, looking distraught and confused. In a chair, Jalinda had just taken off her sword belt and was breathing heavily with relief. "We'll... just have to come up with something that gives us an advantage in the negotiations," the warrior said. "Something mistress Sybaris wants." "She wants her money," Isilo countered. Before Jalinda could retort, they were interrupted by a knock on the door. Akhremi nudged the door open with her hip and entered with a bountiful tray of food. She grinned smugly and set it down in front of Jalinda with a crash: "The lady thought you might be hungry." The Djapperian turned to leave, pausing before she closed the door. "Do try to save something for your friends," she smirked, giving Isilo and Ligeia false looks of sympathy.

Despite Akhremi's misgivings, Jalinda did share the meal with her companions. The two weren't so greedy they didn't leave the warrior to eat most of it, however. Despite herself, Jalinda found she had emptied the whole tray by the time Akhremi knocked on their door again. "Have you finished already??" the Djapperian bodyguard exclaimed with mock surprise. She grinned maliciously: "How fortuitous I brought you some more stuffed pheasant, then." "Thank you, but I'm not hungry," Jalinda told her, brushing her hand against the buttons of her blouse, trying valiantly to contain her stuffed belly. "Not hungry?" Akhremi said disbelievingly, eyeing the warrior condescendingly. "I find that hard to believe. Now, don't be shy; have some pie. There you go." Drakaina's new bodyguard kept cramming food into Jalinda's mouth; glistening pastries and fillets soaked in butter. As soon as she emptied a tray, the Djapperian was there with even more food. One after the other, the buttons on Jalinda's blouse gave in against her tautening gut. "Please," the blonde begged, cream smeared on her fat cheeks, gravy dribbling onto her double chin. "I can't... eat another bite." Akhremi halted the slice of cake on its way to Jalinda's mouth and bent down to look the blonde in the eyes. "A greedy pig such as you? Sated? Open up your mouth now and you'll have all the food you could ever want." Jalinda was too full to even groan when the Djapperian stuffed the cake into her mouth and continued to feed her.

By the time Akhremi was content, Jalinda was too huge to sit in her chair. Drakaina's household servants had helped prop up the gigantically stuffed blonde on her bed, where Akhremi had continued to feed her until Jalinda's gut was tight as a drum, the skin so stretched it seemed almost transparent. "I'm sorry, but will be all for tonight," Akhremi grinned triumphantly. She patted the warrior's brimming belly, the gentle touch enough to send waves of pain through the tender orb. "Try not to starve despite this." After the gloating Djapperian left, Ligeia scrambled over to the immobile Jalinda: "Are you okay?" Her eyes closed, the warrior barely managed the faintest of smiles. "I'll... manage. Your... food... is... better, though..." "Thank you! Should I make you some stew??" "Not now," Jalinda told the enthusiastic siren. She smiled secretively. "Tomorrow..."

After a few hours of belly rubs from Isilo and Ligeia, Jalinda was able to get out of bed by evening the next day. Fortunately, Akhremi had not visited again by the time they were ready to call upon Drakaina Sybaris. Despite help from both her companions, Jalinda was unable to do up the lower two buttons on her blouse, but she swallowed her pride and met with her mistress regardless. "One day and you are already outgrowing your clothes?" Drakaina Sybaris observed sarcastically as a greeting, eyeing Jalinda's stuffed gut with her dark, gold-flecked eyes. The blonde ignored the comment, but still tugged at her blouse in an attempt to cover her gut. "I thought perhaps we could have something to eat before we talk?" Jalinda suggested. The lamia gave her a sardonic smile. "I thought you might." She sighed. "Very well." In came Ligeia, carrying a pot of her stew. Reverently, she poured the architect a bowl, then the others present. Jalinda barely touched hers, but the others tucked in eagerly, including Akhremi. All but Drakaina Sybaris. "Delicious, isn't it, my lady?" Daintily, Drakaina took another spoonful of stew, savoured the taste and swallowed. "It certainly is passable," the architect admitted, obviously unimpressed. "Would you like some more?" Ligeia urged her. The lamia politely declined. "Now, you wished to talk of something?" "I... I'm sure it could wait till tomorrow," Jalinda told her mistress.

"Revelations of Uron!" Jalinda exclaimed once they were back in their quarters. "How can she not want more of your stew?! I feel about to explode and I still would like another portion!" "I'm sorry!" Ligeia cried. "I must have done something wrong!" "No, it was delicious," Jalinda assured her. On her bed, Isilo shrugged: "Maybe lady Sybaris just doesn't like stew?" "Maybe..." Jalinda said thoughtfully. "Ligeia; you have a long day in the kitchen in front of you, I'm afraid." Smiling from ear to ear, the siren cook threw up her arms and yelled: "Yay!"

* * * In the siren tower, Thelxiepeia lay propped up on pelts and cushions, sprawling to accommodate a stuffed gut so huge it touched the floor. Carpets had been put between mountain of flesh and the chilly flagstones once it grew big enough to reach them, at Thelxiepeia's strong insistence. Since then, the gorged siren's gut had continued to swell, billowing out across the floor every direction it could. The great siren lay with her head back against the cushions, eyes closed. Her arms were draped limply beside her well-fed belly, her fingers sinking into the huge thighs where her hands rested. "Leucosia," she muttered, the gentle curve of her double chin squeezed and contorted as she moved her mouth to speak. "I'm starving. I've hardly eaten at all." It was true; she had only eaten one cauldron of stew, ten pies, two trays of dumplings, five wheels of cheese and seven bowls of porridge since she woke two hours ago. It was the entire breakfast for the sirens that day, with the exception of three bowls of porridge and a tray of dumplings that had gone to the ever-pampered Parthenope. "There isn't much food," Leucosia explained. She put a hand to her hungry belly and eyed her sister's fat and stuffed gut. Before Thelxiepeia could get angry for being refused, Peisinoe lumbered to intercede: "Don't listen to her! I'll get you more food... and maybe some for me too?" The elder siren's smug smile, dimples forming on her enormously fat cheeks, was answer enough.

It was a while before Peisinoe returned to the tower; The dark-haired siren's great girth was not very conducive to running errands. From beyond her big belly, Thelxiepeia looked at her sister with disapproval at her coming back empty-handed. Not particularly interested in soothing her elder sister's anger, Aglaope stopped her forceful back rub and withdrew to watch the show. "They... they would not let me have any more food," Peisinoe pleaded, twisting her long hair in her hands and looking at those flagstones still not covered by carpets and Thelxiepeia's encroaching corpulence. "This... this priest person is not letting people give food to the temple." Anger flashed in Thelxiepeia's purple eyes. She snapped a little straighter, sending shivers through the huge gut in front of her. "Help me up, girls," the elder siren said, her voice cold with rage. Even Aglaope was too taken aback not to comply.

"You're right," Lila agreed. She put down her empty glass and nodded approvingly at Rashoka. "This Laharian vintage is quite exquisite. Now, what was it I meant to talk to you about...?" "Dinner, Your Holiness?" the mercenary captain said hurriedly, managing an uncertain smile. Lila stroked her cheek; it was a little flush from the wine. "No, I think it was about-" she barely managed, before stopping abruptly mid-sentence. Her eyes were wide as the door to her office flew open, revealing Thelxiepeia's huge gut, heaving for breath. The siren was so huge she easily filled the doorway, her belly so stuffed it almost strutted, despite its flabbiness, rolls of fat pushing up her bare breasts. "Where's this priest!?" Thelxiepeia panted and bellowed, marching into the room, as resolutely as her flabby body allowed. "Let me eat him! No one keeps food from me and lives!" No one was about to answer; both Lila and Rashoka were too shocked to see Thelxiepeia's vehemence, not to mention seeing her on her feet! Upright at the mercy of gravity, rolls flesh cascaded down Thelxiepeia's sides, each protruding a little further, each bulge thicker than the last, until they became enormous love handles looming over quivering thighs. Those were so fat the only room they had to grow was outwards, bulging tremendously with their great circumference, tapering towards her knees to almost normal size – for a woman of Lila's girth. "We're sorry!" In behind their sister came, one after the other, Leucosia, Aglaope and Peisinoe, each siren more exhausted than the other. "We could not stop her, priestess!" With four fat bird-women in it, Lila's office suddenly felt very small. The presence of so much naked or semi-naked flesh was enough to blow the priestess' mind and force her back to reality: "Excuse me? What was it you wanted again?" "We're doing what we can to apprehend the villain," Rashoka quickly interjected. "Your meals will not be compromised for long." "In fact," Lila began, eyeing the Majari, "Rashoka will be sending out her Furies to find him for us right now." Thelxiepeia sunk her fists deep into her flabby flanks. "Give me your cart and I'll be feasting on charred priest before the day is over!" "There, there," Rashoka said warily, getting up from her seat and walking over to the raging siren. She patted Thelxiepeia's generous gut and said softly: "Why don't we get you some scalloped potatoes and a nice leg of lamb?"

Part 4: Payback's a Brew Drakaina daintily daubed her lips with her cloth napkin and handed the barely touched pie to the bodyguard beside her. Immediately, the woman began eating the leftovers. "I can see how you got so fat," Akhremi told Jalinda, her voice dreamy, her mouth full of pie. The blonde declined to reply. Over the last days, they had tried serving every dish they could imagine, but Drakaina Sybaris remained politely unaffected by the rich flavour and luxurious texture of Ligeia's cooking. After she had tasted the siren's stew, Akhremi was more than willing to help them dispose of her mistress' leftovers, however. "Tell me; is this all you do up at Banshee Lake?" Sybaris inquired wearily, putting away her napkin. "No wonder you're as big as an agelafantis!" Even had she desired to, Jalinda had no time to respond to this slight, because just as the architect had spoken, Rouhard the stable boy came knocking on the open door: "My lady, there's someone at the door." "Oh," Akhremi blurted out, looking up from her pie, colour rising in her caramel cheeks. "She says she does not need an appointment," the boy continued. Drakaina Sybaris sighed softly. "Everyone says that, foolish child. This is why I have Akhremi answer the door." The Djapperian coughed uncomfortably. "Turn her away." "I already let her in," Rouhard said desperately, wringing his hands, eyes brimming with tears. "She was very persuasive, my lady." The architect froze, lips pursed imperceptibly, golden eyes full of steel fury. Every eye was drawn to the outwardly calm lady, everyone holding their breath, until the tension was defused by a woman's voice: "How flattering," Aina chirped, messing up the terrified servant boy's hair. "Now get out of here; I need to, you know, talk to your mistress."

"How does she keep showing up like that?" Jalinda said as she sat down heavily on her bed. Her robe fell in folds about her. Having spent days with only the little Isilo and reasonably thin Ligeia for company, Jalinda had allowed herself to get a new outfit. Bad enough she outweighed both of them together, but she need not be bursting her seams as well. The huge robe was the maroon and gold of Jerano's priests, but incidentally close to Drakaina Sybaris' household colours. The real reason she had chosen the garment was that it was the only one for sale that was large enough to be loose on her. Thank Jerano for his followers' eccentric dressing habits, she had said gratefully when she left the thrift store she had found it in. "What's going on?" Ligeia wondered. She was fresh from the kitchen, wiping dough from her hands on her apron. "Aina suddenly turned up," Jalinda told her, "with a few dozen prisoners in tow. Apparently only to let them rot in lady Sybaris' dungeon." "Should I go back to the kitchen?" The blonde warrior sighed heavily. She noted that, for once, her inflated gut did not strain against her blouse or shirt as she did so. It didn't brighten her mood significantly. "What's the use? Nothing we've tried has worked." "But I haven't tried using mum's secret ingredient yet," Ligeia said guilelessly. Jalinda almost flew to her feet: "Why not??" "It never came up," the siren shrugged and left.

Behind closed doors in Sybaris' quarters, Aina folded her arms across her chest. "Why haven't I heard of this repayment business?" she said indignantly. "I presume no one thought to inform you," the architect said lightly, with a slight shrug of her slight shoulders. The masseuse did her best to swallow her anger: "If I had known, I could have prepared..." she muttered under her breath. "Prepared for what?" Drakaina Sybaris asked keenly. The blonde woman did not answer right away. "I have with me almost a hundred Dunnarians imprisoned for rising against Kween's puppet queen, you know," Aina exaggerated. "I'm sure they would be eager to get revenge on the puppet master." Sybaris raised an innocent eyebrow: "And why would I want that?" "Why else call in the Temple's debt?" Aina observed with a smirk on her thin lips.

Jalinda was alone when she was finally admitted into Drakaina Sybaris receiving hall. Still dressed in her voluminous robes, she curtsied as best she could. In her seat, the architect acknowledged her with the slightest inclination of her head. It seemed Akhremi had returned to her post, for the lamia was alone in the room. "Have you considered extending our, uh, the Temple's loan, my lady?" Sybaris smiled kindly – as kindly as a spider moving in for the kill – before she spoke. "I'm afraid I must have that money as soon as possible," she said with regret sharpened by steely smugness. "Very well, my lady," Jalinda curtsied again, her voice neutral. "I will inform priestess Lila." The blonde hesitated for a moment. "Only first, please allow us to treat you to one last sample of the Temple's cooking. Ligeia?" As called, the siren appeared with a finely decorated bowl. "If it means you will stop pestering me with your food," Drakaina Sybaris said sourly. "Stew??" Jalinda whispered to Ligeia once the siren had handed over the bowl and returned to the warrior's side. "We already tried that days ago!" From the architect's seat came a grunt of approval. "This is good," she admitted, despite herself and took another spoonful. Sybaris' golden eyes lit up, a faint smile on her pale lips. "Very good, in fact." "Not with the secret ingredient, remember?" Ligeia winked and poured the architect another bowl.

* * *

Walking through the west wing, Rashoka did her best to adjust her sword belt. Was the new belt Kween had given her along with the splendid falchion hanging on her hip getting too tight already? Perhaps dinner had just been a little too exquisite – and a little too filling. She was certainly filling out enough. Exposed by her revealing Majari outfit, Rashoka's midsection was free to swell up in all directions and that freedom it did not hesitate to enjoy. Her pot belly was even starting melt into a doughy gut, her trousers digging deeply into the soft, dusky flesh. Consciousness of her increasing flabbiness occupied the mercenary captain's thoughts as she entered the Furies' barracks. She was quickly distracted. "Captain Rashoka?" Ubandi asked. "When are we going to deal with the black priest?" "Soon enough," the commander replied. "There's no rush, is there?" Nareyu came up to join her sister-in-arms. "We think we should do it now." Rashoka looked at them, confusion written plainly on her face, and said with bewilderment: "But once he's gone, they will have no reason to keep us here!" "That's fine for you to say," Nareyu scoffed, "stuffing your face at the priestess' table all day. We've had nothing but rock-hard bread and watered-down ale for a week!" Rashoka looked at her fellow Furies, not quite seeing signs of starvation, but still... surely she wasn't getting fatter than Bahamadhu? The mercenary captain's dark eyes fell on the big Fury's fat gut. "If we capture the black priest, surely priestess Lila would want to keep us?" Ubandi ventured. "Can we take him on our own, though?" Vashni said. "Remember what happened in the village." Realizing she was outvoted, Rashoka managed to compose herself. She smiled: "Don't worry about that. I think I know who can help us..."

* * *

"Would you like another bowl, my lady?" Jalinda asked graciously. "Of course!" Drakaina Sybaris replied, handing her an empty bowl. Dutifully, Ligeia gave the architect another helping of her stew. "Hey, what's going on here?" came Aina's shrill voice from the doorway. The masseuse almost ran into the hall, coming to a halt in front of the architect's seat as she began to count the empty bowls piling up beside it. "M-maybe you should not eat so much, you know?" "Nonsense," Sybaris retorted, composed enough to pause her eating, but obviously annoyed to have to do so. "This is only my sixth portion." "Eat as much as you want, my lady," Jalinda smiled and crossed her arms. She could not help herself from giving the masseuse a smug look. "Don't listen to them," Aina almost pleaded. "Their food does things to people." Drakaina Sybaris curled her lip and scoffed at the masseuse's warnings: "They have been trying to foist their cooking on me for almost a week now. I can assure you it has not done anything. Now, give me another bowl of that stew."

* * *

It was strange to be so bored, Lila thought as she wandered the temple halls. With the temple ostensibly facing starvation and resistance from the peasantry, she found she remained surprisingly unaffected. Rashoka was attending to the priest, or so she said; Landis was probably off making sure Naava remained pleasantly overfed during the crisis; and Magora was only good for fetching food and preparing baths. She had tried to alleviate her boredom in the bathtub, but it had taken eight villagers to get her out again, so she wasn't about to ask her aide for a bath in a while. Not that sitting on my ass getting even fatter is going to help, Lila told herself as she crossed the main hall. Nothing requiring her attention here either, it seemed, except the marred columns flanking the entrance to Kween's sanctum. But fixing that took money, and she had no desire to be reminded of their massive debt. I wonder if the food shortage has led to siren rebellion yet. Lila had no idea how the bird-women could be so greedy that they complained that vehemently; she had barely noticed the shortage herself. I'm probably even gaining weight, she thought with a hint of resignation, remembering how much time she had spent eating lately, just because she was bored. It will be all right when Jalinda returns, she told herself and patted her belly. Both their financial problems and her gluttony- inducing boredom. When she entered their tower, the sirens did not seem particularly rebellious. They were all but scrambling on their hands and knees, wolfing down their dinner as if they had not seen food in weeks. All but the queen wolf herself, Lila noted. "Where's Thelxiepeia?" "She left!" Leucosia managed between bites, her voice rapturous. "It's all ours!" Peisinoe exclaimed, cramming a cream-filled dumpling into her mouth. Lila raised a curious eyebrow as she observed the feast. Even Parthenope had managed to crawl the five feet between her and the food; the massive siren had rolled onto her side to reach it, and was now happily stuffing her face with custard-filled tarts. The priestess rolled her eyes and sighed: "Well, where did she go?" "Don't know," Peisinoe shrugged. The plump-faced siren reached out to grab a slice of apple cake before her sister Leucosia did. Weighed down by her hefty gut, she came crashing down, instead, falling flat on her face. "No time to lose," Leucosia told Lila, leaning on her fallen sister for support and popping the cake into her mouth. "She could be back any minute!" Deciding there was nothing to be learned from the sirens and their one-tracked mind, Lila gave up and left them to their food. She did not particularly care where the elder siren was, but... where in the Abyss would that lazy piece of lard go? The priestess came to a halt beside the scar in the west wing's floor. Kitchen! she realized, in convenient timing with her grumbling belly.

* * *

"Come on, Ligeia!" Jalinda's voice announced her arrival long before she entered the kitchen. "We need more stew for lady Sybaris! Ligeia?" The big warrior stepped into the marble-walled kitchen to find it empty. "Anyone here?" On the stoves boiled several pots of the siren's stew, along with a big, bubbling cauldron in the fireplace. Carrots and celery lay half-sliced on the counter tops, small mounds of finely cut garlic evenly spaced around them. The room was silent except for the crackling of the fires and the dull sputtering of the many pots, so it gave Jalinda a start when a voice called out behind her: "Oh hi, Jalinda!" Ligeia exclaimed, wiping her hands. Her apron was so smutty these new smears made no difference. "I was just out getting some meat," the siren explained, returning to her cooking. "Okay," Jalinda shrugged, letting the siren pass. She had not heard a single sound from her talons when she approached. "We're going to need more stew, I think." "Already on it!" Ligeia grinned, huge knife in hand. With deft motions, she resumed her work on the celery. The siren's hand and knife were a blur as they flew over one stalk, then quickly to another. "Remind me not to get on your wrong side," Jalinda swallowed as she observed the cook's lightning dismemberment of one vegetable after the other. "Will do!" Ligeia grinned and went back to work. "Ah, there you are! I've been looking all over for you." Into the temple kitchen waddled Landis, the skirts of her dress swaying along with her plentiful posterior. She stopped in front of the high priestess: "What are you doing here?" Lila seemed to have frozen, eyes staring at the villager. "Looking for Thelxiepeia," she shrugged, before one of the kitchen helped refill her plate of fried squallfish. "That's what I meant to talk to you about, actually," Landis told the priestess as she ate. "Thelxiepeia is gone." "I know," Lila said sagely and drenched a piece of squallfish in sour cream. "What should we do?" Going by the priestess' body language, Lila thought 'not worrying about it' appropriate. Landis hesitated. "It... it seems Rashoka and her Furies are gone as well, Your Holiness. Calmly, Lila finished what little remained of her meal and pushed away her plate. Sighing, she got up to lead Landis out of the kitchen. Why in the name of Kween did I say I was bored? she thought with silent resignation.

* * *

Reverberating through her chambers, a quite unladylike belch escaped lady Sybaris lips. "More," the architect commanded curtly, licking an errant smear of stew from her cheek. Immediately Akhremi obeyed, handing over yet another bowl of stew. The Djapperian bodyguard was eyeing the stuff hungrily, but her fear of her mistress outweighed her appetite. Akhremi would have to wait to sample Ligeia's delicacies until the siren was done cooking for Drakaina Sybaris for the day. "Isn't... isn't that, you know... isn't that enough?" Aina said anxiously, wringing her hands, pearls of sweat on her brow. She kept her distance, chewing on her fingernails as she looked at the eating architect with big eyes: Drakaina Sybaris sat slumped over a swollen gut taut against the scarlet silk of her dress. The masseuse had seen her down sixteen bowls of stew. Judging by the size of her belly, there had been just as many before she came here. With a flick of her slender wrist, Sybaris motioned for Akhremi to pour stew directly into her mouth. From a distance, Aina marvelled at how quickly the architect gulped down the bowl, fat Jalinda quickly in place to feed her another bowl, Akhremi ready with the next as soon as she finished. The lady's gorging was so wolfish, Aina almost thought she saw the sharp teeth of a predator flash in Sybaris' mouth between gulps of stew. "My lady, you mustn't eat so much!" the masseuse called out over Akhremi's shoulder, but Sybaris was oblivious to everything that wasn't the dull orange stew they fed her. Throwing up her hands, she turned and marched out of the room with a defiant sweep of her dirty-blond hair. "Isilo!" Aina called out to her fellow masseuse. "You have to help me; they have put a spell on the lady!" The pointy-faced Laguran shrugged. "It's just stew," she said disinterestedly. Aina was determining whether to storm of or slap the stupid girl when she was startled by the loud scream of tearing fabric: Behind her, the seams between the red silk and dark velvet on Drakaina Sybaris' dress had given out, taut, pale flesh exposed through the tears.

As the days passed in Drakaina Sybaris' Mansion, they continued to be filled with "just stew". Sybaris was devouring Ligeia's food at an impossible rate, whole bowls disappearing down her throat in a single gulp. She was insatiable, but only allowed Jalinda and Akhremi to attend her. As they almost always did, the two bodyguards now stood beside the lady to attend her. The architect had eaten almost without pause, as was abundantly clear. So big now that she had to be fed in bed, Sybaris' belly was full far beyond the capacity of any mortal woman. None of her tight little sumptuous dresses would fit her, so the lady lay there in nothing but her small clothes. Propped up so she would not be crushed by her own belly's massive size, Drakaina Sybaris had her eyes closed as she was fed, her head tilted back so that her attendants only had to pour stew into her fanged mouth. "I've got this covered; why don't you go and see if Ligeia has some lunch ready for you?" The architect was only dimly aware of Jalinda's voice, obsessed as she was in her gluttony. As long as the irresistible stew kept coming, she thought nothing of it. After a while, it stopped. Slowly, Drakaina Sybaris opened her eyes, giving her servants time to rectify their delay. When no food was forthcoming, those golden orbs flew open. The architect's face twisted in a grimace of animalistic fury as she saw Jalinda standing over her, bowl of sweet, delectable stew in her hands, well out of Sybaris' reach. "Why are you stopping?" the architect demanded angrily. "What do you mean?" The blonde's voice was full of feigned nonchalance. Snarling, Drakaina Sybaris grasped for the bowl, barely able to lift her shoulders against her titanic belly. As her fingers flailed in vain, the lady's exquisitely manicured nails stretched, reached and grew, becoming more like the claws of a beast. "Give that to me!" she hissed. Jalinda looked down at the bowl in her hands: "Oh, would you like some stew?" The look of innocent surprise fled from the warrior's face: "That's going to cost you." "What??" The architect's roar was otherworldly, her eyes flashing black, fangs bursting forth in her wide-open mouth. When the colour had seeped back into them, the eyes were all gold save for a reptilian slit of a pupil. "I'm afraid I cannot just let you have this bowl," Jalinda stated firmly. Muscles tensed under the translucent skin of Drakaina's slender cheeks, her face frozen with rage. "I must have it!" she bellowed, lips peeling back to display her huge fangs, green-gold seeping into her viciously contorted face. "Feed me!" the lamia screamed, torchlight flashing across her finely scaled face as she launched herself at Jalinda. Taken aback by the sudden attack, the big blonde took a step back, well out of reach of the immobilized Sybaris. "I'd love to, mistress," Jalinda said as calmly as she could manage. "But the Temple's services do not come cheap, I'm afraid." "I demand you give it to me," Drakaina Sybaris commanded, a little calmer now, assured her former bodyguard would obey. "The bounty of Kween is not mine to give," the blonde said regretfully. "I'm only an ambassador." The lamia said nothing, but began to push herself up with her claws, straining and hissing – and, after a while, ultimately failing. "How much?" she hissed, eyes narrow slits as she spoke. "Fifty thousand Crests per bowl, my lady. Now, if you would only write it here?" Accepting her former bodyguard's outrageous price grudgingly, Drakaina Sybaris snatched up the offered bowl of stew and gulped it down immediately. "Give me another one!" she demanded, subtracting another fifty thousand from the Temple's debt paper. Jalinda was more than happy to oblige her with bowl after bowl, until a gasp of disbelief interrupted them: "Drakaina Sybaris??" was all Aina could say as she came into the lamia's chambers. Staring at the architect's serpentine form, the masseuse made her way to the bedside, where she noticed the debt proof. "What are you doing??" she shouted and reached for the sheet. "Do not disturb the lady," Jalinda said sternly, interposing her arm between Aina and the paper. "Move, you fat slob!" the masseuse hissed, throwing herself at the warrior's admittedly hefty limb. "Get out of my way?" "Why don't you get out of my way?" the bodyguard said with battlefield calm, easily brushing off the scrawny blonde's assault. Her eyes shooting daggers, the masseuse complied. "Don't think you'll get away with this!" she screamed as she stormed out of the room.

Aina found her fellow masseuse helping Ligeia in the kitchen. Isilo looked up from the tomatoes she was crushing for the siren's stew. The dark-haired girl did not bat an eyelash at her furious companion's appearance. "What are you doing?" Aina demanded angrily. "Cooking," Isilo answered curtly with a shrug. "I'd like to think I'm pretty good at it, actually. Remember lady Ferrona? She seemed to like my food, at least – didn't she gain like twenty pounds while I was there?" "Whose side are you really on?" Aina demanded. The slight masseuse behind the kitchen counter smiled flippantly: "Side? I thought we were all one, big happy family... cult; whatever?" "Gah!" Clenching and and unclenching the fists she held up to her face, Aina hesitated for a while, then stomped off.

Sputtering curses and obscenities, Aina browsed through the heavy batch of keys in the flickering torchlight. "Ereneni's holy cunt!" she growled as yet another key proved not to fit in the dungeon door's lock. "They all look the same!" When she finally got the door unlocked, she almost tore the heavy oaken thing off its hinges. Nothing but swear words came to her mind as the door swung open; she had not thought this far ahead. She was about to figure out a resounding call to arms when something moved within the large chamber. Ragged and blinking against the light of her torch, three Dunnarians came staggering. "You! You let her take them!" one shouted, pointing accusingly at the perplexed Aina. Where are the others? The masseuse almost got to think before the three remaining prisoners lunged at her. Dropping her torch in surprise, Aina jumped back and heaved with all her might to slam the door shut. She thanked Ereneni and apologized for her blasphemy when she managed to find the correct key on the first try.

Coming down the stairs, into the kitchen for more stew, Jalinda was surprised to see Aina in an apron, cutting up onions. Putting down her knife, she threw the warrior a sour look, then walked over to fetch her a pot of stew from the stove. "When she comes to," the masseuse said softly as she handed over the pot; "I had nothing to do with this." Jalinda simply nodded. Just as she was about to return to her onions, Aina called over her shoulder: "Oh, and I want to be compensated for my hostages, you know." Hostages? Jalinda wondered, completely at a loss as she left. Shrugging, she took the pot of stew up to her awaiting mistress. She was still her lady's bodyguard and she was going to attend to her needs. A hush fell over the packed longhouse when the man began to speak. It seemed like all the neighbouring farmers had flocked here to hear what the priest had to say. "Ze benevolence of Kween vill proof one of chains," the man said solemnly. "You haf fount yourselfs fat ant dulled, but I see you realize you haf become naught but slaves. 'Vat should ve do?' you ask. It is simple; renounce ze false god of gluttony ant trust in your strength of vill. Ko'on vatches over zose zat vatch zemselfs. Temperance, humility, diligence; zat is ze path to redemption. Ze path to freedom." "What... what if the blue-haired priestess comes and tries to eat us?" a chubby little girl wondered. Her parents backed away slightly, not wanting to appear to be wavering in the priest's eyes along with their daughter. "Zen you must put your trust in Ko'on, little one," the priest of Dusk said sternly. The faintest trace of a grim smile touched his lips: "Ant ze swords of ze Night Templars when zey arrife to liberate you." "Thank you, black man," the girl grinned happily. She looked as if she was considering giving the thin man a hug when a shout interrupted the gathering: "The fat darkies are coming! The darkies are coming!" A gasp went up in the crowd, one half looking to the priest for guidance, the other half only looking desperately about for a chance to save their own skin. Calmly, the black-clad man picked up his hat and staff and strode out of the longhouse. Curious and captivated, the peasants followed.

The priest of Dusk stood atop the hill, calmly observing the ten foreigner women coming up between the cowshed, outhouse and smithy. He was a foreigner himself, of course, but not nearly as obviously as these southern mercenaries: Their skin was light brown and bronze and they wore brightly coloured trousers and curved blades in their scabbards. "Your fears vere vell founded," the priest said with a kind of sombre satisfaction. His face was dour, his eyes obscured by the brim of his hat. "All right!" Vashni bellowed when the Majari began to close in on the gathered peasants. "Playtime be over! Yoo be handin' over de man in de dress now!" "So yuh can steal our food?" a burly man shouted in return. "So we no be burnin' down yoor farm, bludhi!" the mercenary said angrily. "O'er me dead body!" Encouraged by the man to whom the farm belonged, the peasants thronged down between the humble buildings, placing themselves between the priest and the Majari. "Don't tell me we will have to fight these morons," Rashoka sighed to her warriors in their native tongue. Drawing a deep breath, she grabbed the hilt of her new falchion. "Renounce your debauchery ant selfish gluttony!" the priest pleaded. He was taller than most of the peasants as he made his way through the crowd and his voice carried well between the sheds. "Turn avay from ze great devourer!" "Kween had better keep us in her service after this," Ubandi muttered, "or our debauchery will bite us in the ass." "Yours is a particularly tantalizing target," Nareyu mused, casting her fellow Fury a sly glance. "I'm afraid we must turn down your offer," Rashoka told the priest and drew her blade. It was surprisingly heavy; too heavy for her to hold in one hand, in fact. Around her, the other Furies did the same and took up their battle stances as far as their added bulk allowed. The priest bowed his head: "Zen you must die." The peasants eyed the Majari's steel warily, but held their ground. They were no fighters, but they had been with the high priestess to Dunnar, and they had their axes and pitchforks and thirty- two adults to their number. The Blood Furies just had hundreds of pounds weighing them down. Rashoka ordered her warriors to advance, but before they could comply, Ubandi and Nareyu were almost thrown off their feet, Vashni nimbly hopping aside to press herself against the wall. Looking behind her, Rashoka saw a huge shape swaying towards her. Muscling – or, rather flabbing – her way through the Furies, Thelxiepeia waddled ponderously towards the arrayed peasants. She came to a halt, her massive body taking a while to stop quivering, and roared: "Give... me... that man!" The siren's imperious and petulant tone brought back memories that made grown men quake – almost as violently as Thelxiepeia's soft flesh. They hesitated, looking anxiously to one another, finding no reassurance. Averting their eyes, but casting nervous glances at the siren's taloned feet, the peasants took a few steps back. "It's not too late to run!" Rashoka urged the black priest as the gigantic siren lumbered closer to where he stood alone. The man's lips tightened at her words, and he gripped his staff firmly. "Ko'on protects me," he called back, standing his ground against the slowly approaching Thelxiepeia. He lashed out with his staff as she came closer, but the steelwood simply bounced off her hefty gut. Another jab sunk deep into the siren's doughy flesh, a swing slapping into the side of her looming paunch; her gut was too large a target to hit anything else. The priest did not retreat an inch, so Thelxiepeia was soon right in front of him. Grunting loudly, she crashed into him, toppling the man with the immense weight of her huge belly. Barely able to hold on to his staff, the priest fell down, disappearing from Thelxiepeia's view underneath the bulging shelf and vast curve of her gut. "Don't go anywhere," the siren smirked and sat down on the fallen priest, her tautening buttocks crashing down on him with the weight hundreds of greedily gained pounds. The priest did not so much as whimper, though that might have been because the air had been crushed out of his lungs.

* * *

Strutting confidently, Jalinda interrupted the high priestess' supper and slapped a large sheet of paper onto her desk. "Did you talk to Sybaris?" Lila said before she realized how dumb it sounded. "Another sated customer," Jalinda said triumphantly, indicating on the paper that the architect had cancelled the debt, with a few thousand to spare. "How?" was all Lila could manage. The warrior's smile turned to a meaningful look. "The Word of Kween binds us together," she said slyly. Looking one last time at the paper on the desk, she took to scrutinizing the seated priestess: "Is it just me or is that robe getting a little tight already?" "I have no idea what you're talking about!" Lila retorted hurriedly. She pushed away her food and awkwardly got to her feet. "Now if you'll excuse, I have work to do!"

In the main hall, Rashoka, Ubandi, Bahamadhu, Nareyu and Vashni lounged on soft blankets and heaps of cushions, resting after their evidently exhausting fight to capture the troublesome priest. Propped up on an elbow, her well-padded hip rising like a gently sloping mountain down her side, Nareyu was feeding Ubandi juicy plums. Bahamadhu had sunk into a huge mound of pillows and was snoring contently, only her huge, round gut exposed. "Where's the priest?" Lila inquired sharply. She sighed in resignation: "He hasn't gotten away?" Lying with her hands behind her head, Rashoka smiled contently: "He won't be going anywhere, priestess. Not on our watch."

In their tower, the fat siren sisters sat in mouth-watering anticipation, each clutching their graciously allowed bowl in their hands. Standing in the middle of her salivating sisters, Ligeia was cheerfully stirring her big cauldron. "Almost ready," the cook said, beaming under her brand new, wide-brimmed hat.