Work Text:
You always come near the end of the day, though you aren’t entirely sure why. The changes in your body since you started taking the purple potions were obvious to everyone who know you. Still, the shopkeep had a way of making you feel…appreciated, and not just as a customer.
“Oh, hello! Welcome to Gilmore’s Glorious—oh, my. You’re back.” Shaun Gilmore’s eyes hone in on you, scanning, and you struggle not to flush as he lingers on your gut, beginning to push against your clothing.
“Let’s have a look at you.” Obediantly, you come to the counter, where you can see his eyes are sparkling. “Your beard is coming in nicelessly. Still just scruff, but, well…”
His fingers sweep under your chin and his eyes widen. “Almost a full coat. And is that a double chin I’m feeling? Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” you mutter, putting some coin on the counter.
“Looking for more already? Well, well. I had a feeling you’d be insatiable. And it looks like you’ve been doing an excellent job.” Gilmore spun about to grab the potions from his backroom, and you couldn’t help but focus on the folds under his shoulders that displayed exactly how much mass he had. Like the way his arms jiggled when he handed you the vial, you couldn’t help but be jealous. Someday, you’d get there. Massive, and manly, and marvelous.
The next time you came in, he didn’t even have to go to the backroom.
“I told you most people take them once a month, but every twelve days was the fastest you could go safely. I had a feeling you’d come on day thirty-six.” His eyes flicked around you again, seeing that your new shirt was bunching above your belt. “May I?” he asked, and you nodded.
He gently pulled the fabric through, fingers pushing between your belt and tender skin, and you could tell he had noticed that you were wearing it several notches lighter. “You sized up, I see,” he noted. “Congratulations.”
You blush. I wish I had the hair to go with it. Or the confidence to wear something as low cut as your robes.
Gilmore raised an eyebrow, and you realize you’d said it out loud. “Sorry.”
He laughed. “Don’t apologize. Keep taking the potions and it’ll happen soon enough.” He leaned in, and whispered in your ear. “You’ll fit in my cast-offs soon enough.”
His hand stretched over as he said it, slipping the potion into your pouch. It jiggled your backside as it receded, which only made you redden further.
The fourth time, he invited you back into his quarters, and you didn’t say no. Intellectually, you should have known that his doors were wider and his furniture deeper to accommodate the size of him, but it was a different thing to realize you had grown enough that you breathed a sigh of relief you didn’t have to be careful going through the frame. Waiting for you in a sitting area, well furnished with maroon and fuschia cushions and a stained glass table, was an enormous cake.
You looked at Gilmore in confusion, and he chuckled, motioning for you to sit down. Your thighs spread and flattened as you did, your stomach dropping down, but that was nothing compared to his, which rested on the floor. Considering the height of his plush behind, that was an impressive feat.
“The potions are supposed to help with a deepened voice and increased darker hair. The weight gain is normally a side effect. But you choose to make it the star of the show, so…I figured you’d allow me to help you along.” Gilmore waved his hand, and a fork fluttered over. “Besides. You’re almost at fifty days. That’s worth celebrating.”
“I—I’ll need help with this,” you say nervously, hoping he’ll help you eat a portion of it. There’s no way the two of you can finish it—it’s four times the size of your last birthday cake, which was meant to feed eight.
“Oh, certainly.” Gilmore leaned in with a smile, his glorious beard dangling above. “With your consent. I’m sure we can pack you full.”
You nodded, and took the first bite. It was heavenly, rich and smooth, equal parts sweet and creamy. You expressed your love for it, and Gilmore chuckled. “Oh, I can tell you love such things. I mean, really…” He shifted over beside you, his massive belly pressing against you as a single finger prodded at your swell. “Forget forty-eight days, I’m sure you’re close to forty-eight inches.”
Indeed his finger dug in deep, and didn’t come close to hurting. “Oh, there’s no need to stop. It’s a beautiful thing.”
You weren’t going to stop anyways, so you continued eating forkful by forkful. When you began to slow down, he turned to massaging it. You stopped at half, already overtaxed, and were shocked to realize Gilmore had been sliding cushions at various heights behind you. You tried to sit up, only to be shocked by the weight in your lap and sudden constriction, but Gilmore, gently, pushed you down again. “Careful, now. Your potions won’t work quite as well if you don’t finish. And this is all for you.”
Your eyes widen. “All of it? You won’t share?”
“I’ll share in your success. I mean, truly, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone take to this so quickly. Here, we can make things easier…” He slid his fingers into the gaps around your buttons where the cake was beginning to press against it, and slid them up and down, your belly surging forwards to push the barrier away until your shirt hung from your shoulders to your belt, that was creating a division of your biggest roll to one on either side of it.
“If you can manage to sit up, with a stomach like that…” You shifted your legs wider to comply, squishing against Gilmore as a side effect. He laughed. “How marvelous. You’ve added so much softness it’s dripped down and covered you all over.”
He wrestled them off your shoulders, pushing up the flab of your upper arms to do so. “I remember when this shirt was new. Not two weeks ago. Most people only expand so quickly when they breathe in.” He shifted to your other side, the warmth of his fat against yours a subtle blessing. His thick fingers struggled at that angle to roll the fabric down, before his hands descended to your waist. You were so full of cake that he couldn’t even unbuckle at first. “Suck in,” he requested. “I will never request you be smaller, beautiful, but I don’t have the space to release you.”
It took a few breaths and a few tries, but he finally managed to pull it off. Somehow, without the belt digging in to make it feel external, you felt even fuller, as if every stretch mark you had earned was from this moment, and not weeks of pushing your limits.
“I don’t think that’s enough,” Gilmore said in awe, shifting your pants even lower. “Do you feel any better now?”
“I’ll feel better when I take the potion,” you said suddenly.
“Oh darling. Are you sure? You’re so…expanded already,” he teased, hands widening around you. “Your chin might start to get in the way. Your thighs might get stuck under the table.”
“It would be worth it.”
“Ha!” Gilmore chuckled. “I can see why I’ve earned a repeat customer.”