Fire Emblem: The Fat Wives of Ylisse

Maribelle let out a soft coo as she watched the steam rise from their tea cups, a large plate of treats placed on the table in between her and Lissa.

"Oh my, would you look at this assortment; why, I think this is the largest amount of chocolates and cookies we've received for our tea-time in quite a while! Decadent treats from nearly every corner of Ylisse! And not to mention that the tea smells exquisite! Thank you so very much for your hard work, Mable."

"You're welcome, mistress." the maid bowed her head before hurrying away, so that the two nobles could chat among themselves.

Lissa blew on the tea for a few seconds before tipping the cup back, taking a quick sip. "Mmm! It's so sweet! And I didn't even add any extra sugar yet!" the blonde giggled, before reaching over the table to grab a chocolate doughnut and a few packets of sugar.

Maribelle, who was busy packing her face with several squares of tiramisu, just bobbed her drill-haired head in silent agreement.

Lissa had a bite from the doughnut, poured two packs of sugar into her tea cup, took another bite, and resumed with the sugar yet again. She had already used four packs, and with her latest penchant for sweetness, she wasn't even close to being done yet. Lissa took several more helpings of sugar; she needed her tea to be as delectable as her snacks. She tore into the doughnut and squealed as she hit a burst of fudge-flavored filling.

Maribelle dabbed her pudgy cheeks and her little double-chin with a napkin, dainty as always, while holding a half-eaten croissant in her other hand. She downed the rest of the croissant in two chomps and a gulp. Her tea remained untouched.

Lissa shoved one chocolate malt ball into her mouth, and then another, and another, one for each of her fingers.

Maribelle placed a slice of caramel fudge between two cookies and ate it.

Lissa guzzled on her tea, stopping every now and then to eat her finger foods. The vanilla cookies were far tastier than she expected, although she still preferred chocolate overall.

Maribelle nibbled on some biscuits; she was beginning to regret not simply asking for a pitcher of melted chocolate as a companion to her drink, which had already gone cold on her.

Lissa wiped her mouth clean of crumbs and drops of tea, then she reached down and undid several of the bands that held her dress together, allowing her plump tummy to surge forward by just an inch or two, prompting a sigh of relief. It had been getting so tight down there, she almost didn't know what to do. She wiped her round little face again; she might need to hire the sewing master to make her a roomier dress again. With a giggle, she reached for the snack plate once more.

Maribelle leaned far back in her chair. She had rolled her shirt up, and her own fat, bulbous gut sat heavily over the surface of her lap.

"Urp...oh dear, excuse me...my, this is quite a wonderful tea-time, wouldn't you say, Lissa darling?"

"We should totally do this again...some time soon...maybe after supper!" Lissa proclaimed, her mouth full of brownies.

Maribelle huffed, and covered her mouth for another unladylike burp; it was a shame that their husbands Chrom and Robin couldn't appreciate tea-time the same way they did, she thought. Otherwise they could have enjoyed this all together.

----

"Hey! Little mister fancy pants over there! Is the food ready yet? I'm starving, and I haven't even gotten up from bed yet!"

Virion had already been long prepared for Sully that morning. She was a real sloth, that woman, and while Virion didn't like mussing up his playboy looks by waking up early, he needed to start on breakfast. Sully's attitude for the entire day depended on the satisfaction of her first meal. She wasn't letting her usual food-lust talk for her either; the archer could actually hear Sully's belly rumbling all the way from the kitchen. Virion added a few extra logs to the oven's fire to help the process along. He didn't wish to keep his lovely lady knight waiting for much longer.

Sully yawned. She was hungry, and she hated it when she was hungry, and she was hungry quite often. She sat up in bed, propped up by a stack of pillows and her own titanic tush, with a bed sheet draped lazily as a cover for her huge belly, which spread like a mountain of flesh-colored molasses between her fat, heavy legs. Sully was very large, the fattest girl in Chrom's army, literally outweighing the rest of the competition with her immense physique. She could no longer ride a horse, lest she put terrible strain on the poor beast's spine, but she was still a very proficient trainer when it came to raising up the army's newbies.

Sully reached a bloated, flabby arm for her nightstand to grab a book; she had never been much of a reader, but it became a good way to pass the time while waiting for a meal. Her stomach roared yet again; Sully's cheeks flushed. Her stomach was so large, it wasn't easy to fill it. She needed enough food for a couple to act as breakfast alone. It wasn't going to make her any thinner, but at this point, she couldn't care how small her muscles got. She'd been so proud of her strength before, but now she could at least say she was big enough to crush anyone she wanted.

"Oi! What's taking so long? I don't like sitting here hungry ya know!"

Virion nodded, although only to himself. He wiped the sweat from his brow before sprinkling a handful of sugar powder over the stack of pancakes. He was no talented chef, and he had hardly cooked on his own in years until he married Sully, opting to charm his way for a plate if he could get away with it, but he had been essentially forced to learn a few techniques because of his expanding wife. He didn't know where her incredible appetite had originated from, or why she would eat so much that she put Stahl to shame; yet Virion was not perturbed. He gladly did everything he could to make his wife's fat life more comfortable. To him, she was still as beautiful now as she was the first day they joined forces on the battlefield together.

Virion placed the pancakes onto a plate and hurried back to the bedroom. Sully's large head, several times its size due to the sheer amount of flab that clung to her cheeks, chin and neck fusing it all together, swiveled in her husband's direction as he stepped inside.

"There you are! What the...oh, are those pancakes?" Sully drooled.

"I do hope you enjoy them, my adorable swan, for I crafted them purely out of my love and affection for you!" Virion smiled, almost to the point of looking smug about it.

"Thanks..." Sully blushed. She had to rely on Virion now more than ever, and as a result, she had started to appreciate his little acts a lot more. He was a pompous fop all the same, but he was HER pompous fop. She took the plate into her sausage-like fingers and took a deep whiff. She didn't need a table to support it; she placed the plate right on top of her belly and started eating. The pancakes were soft and fluffy on the inside, proof that Virion's cooking had improved from previous attempts. As she expected, it was amazing, and her rapid hand motions made her drooping cleavage jostle and bounce.

"I'll be back with more, my turtledove!" Virion bowed.

Sully was glad that her fat hadn't prompted him to ever turn away. Maybe he loved her more than she thought, and maybe she loved him more too.

-----

In Frederick's bedroom, Panne moaned boisterously, gripping the thick love-handles of her protruding and over-stuffed gut. Nonetheless, she held her mouth open long enough for her husband to shove in yet another piece of carrot cake. She chewed; it was moist and sweet, just like the several past slices of cake before it. She squeezed her muffin-top, to feel the soft adipose squish and twist like almond jelly between her pudgy digits. She moaned again, the fiery passion was burning through her body, an unbridled flame of such magnitude, it felt like it threatened to burn her up with it. She told the man that she wanted more, that she needed more. Frederick nodded as he prepared yet another plate for his leporid lover. He wouldn't make her wait long.

Panne slid her fingers over the stretched tribal tattoos that marked her abdomen, letting the softness soak her fingertips, until she reached her cavernous belly-button. She slipped a finger inside and began rolling it around, grunting back a belch. She didn't know what had come over her to make her act like this; maybe it was some kind of strange human disease that affected the brain, or maybe it was because the flavor of carrot in a delicious cake was all too tempting for her. Whatever it was, she couldn't get enough of it. She got an excitement out of her flabby, wobbly fat that no duel could hope to match. From the way Frederick kept feeding her, it seemed their feelings about her weight gain were mutual.

Frederick said nothing as he cut off a large chunk of the cake slice with his fork, and piercing it, dangling it in front of the taguel like bait offered to a wild animal.

Panne took it graciously, and Frederick wasted little time, cutting into the slice again.

The taguel cupped her belly in her hands, as much of it as she could hold, which was now very little; her stomach was orbicular from all sides, perfectly spherical did it keep itself as it grew and grew with every passing day. When Panne laid down, she couldn't even see over its mass, and when she was on all fours, it hung far enough to graze the bed. Her stomach was all sorts of massive, but with her race's powers, it didn't hamper her battle strength even a little. It just made her a bigger bunny, which proved quite helpful in scaring away the more timid enemies. Panne swallowed the cake and belched.

This was the part of their relationship that they kept hidden, even though Panne's gain became more evident to their fellow soldiers. In public, their relationship was very professional, almost to the point of coldness, with only occasional friendly comments or interactions between them. It was only when they were in private could they share such intimate moments like these. Panne did not feel comfortable making a taguel's relationship a 'open show' for her human companions, so Frederick respected her decision. He was quite happy with the way things were anyway.

Panne grabbed Frederick's wrist just before he could feed her again.

"Let's put the cake aside for now, so that you can help ease the fullness of my stomach, husband."

"...Of course, my lady. Right away."

---------

"Oh...c'mon...c'mon...gah! This isn't working! It's not...freaking...working! Gods! Gregor! Gregor, can you help me? Please?"

Gregor popped his head into Cordelia's bedroom. "You be calling for Gregor?"

The tomato-haired pegasus knight stood poised in front of her mirror, her chubby cheeks flaring as she tugged helplessly on her chest plate. It was constricting her body; bulges of fat were sticking out everywhere from any sort of conceivable hole on the armor.

"Can you...help me get this off...it's so tight...!" Cordelia winced. It actually hurt, and it made movement so restricted that even her fat arms were caught inside the metal sleeves. She whimpered, feeling more like a stuffed slab of meat than a proud Ylissean warrior. Even if it was only her husband witnessing the young woman's personal downfall, she still wanted to simply melt away into the floor and forget everything. Her armor's ill fitting was just another sign at how overweight she'd gotten.

"Allow Gregor to provide aid!"

Gregor walked up behind his wife and began pulling on the armor while at the same time Cordelia tried to somehow squeeze her plump frame out of the tight space. It took longer than expected but eventually the Gods decided to show her mercy, so Cordelia finally slipped free from her constraints. With a cry she fell back and hit the floor, landing on her cushioned rump. Gregor tossed the armor aside and helped Cordelia back onto her feet. Her belly, which rounded out at the start of her crotch, wobbled freely. Her tapered thighs made her legs constantly touch, whether she was standing or sitting. It was mostly her butt that gained the most, giving her a very hefty pear-shape.

"Are you alright?" Gregor asked.

Cordelia huffed, eyeing her reflection in the life-sized mirror with strong disdain. She was fat, no better word could have properly explained her body shape in the present time. She couldn't believe she'd let things go this far. She'd been quite well aware of it for a long time now, but whenever she actually saw herself and her adipose, it still shocked her all the same. Cordelia had expected Sumia would get fat long before she did; the poor girl was so clumsy, she would probably trip into a buffet and come out two hundred pounds heavier. But no, the egg was on Cordelia's face instead; she had let both the peace times and her married life get the better of her. Wonderful.

"Cordelia, are you alright? Need healing from the mage staff? Gregor cannot say he know any magic himself, but-"

Cordelia shook her head. "No, no, I'm not hurt in that way, Gregor. I...I'm feeling a little self-conscious about my weight, I suppose I'll admit."

Gregor cocked an eyebrow. "Self-concussion from weight? What do you mean of that?"

"No, I'm self-conscious! I feel bad that I've put on so much weight since the war! I've eaten too much without training enough!"

Gregor frowned, visibly straining in his attempt to wrap his mind around Cordelia's plight, which left the woman in turn nearly dumbfounded at the apparent lack of understanding that her husband possessed.

"Gregor...it's not that difficult to understand...I know you're a lot smarter than this, or did Tharja cast another hex on you again? Do I need to go and talk to her?" Cordelia really hoped not; she wasn't in the mood to talk to someone who was an even bigger downer than her right now.

Gregor shook his head. He suddenly grabbed a handful of Cordelia's flab; Cordelia shrieked. Gregor inspected it with some thoughtfulness.

"...Not so bad." he shrugged, releasing it after a time.

Cordelia gaped. "What?"

"Gregor said it not so bad. A little fluffiness never hurt nobody."

"F-Fluffy? Gregor, I really am starting to believe you don't get the issue here...!"

Gregor shook his head. He took Cordelia into his arms and held her. "No, no, Gregor understand quite well! Need to be happier, yes? But no reason to feel self-concussion! Cordelia do much work during war against Grima and put her life on the line many times! Quite deserving of a rest, so Gregor says, training can wait until later! About your weight..." Gregor beamed, "Cordelia still same sweet, kind, beautiful woman that Gregor married during war-time! Haven't changed in heart or mind at all, isn't that most important?"

Cordelia stared up at her husband as tears welled up in her eyes. She hugged him tighter, burying her face into his broad chest. There wasn't any retort she could think up. She was too touched.

-----

Libra had been concerned for his wife's safety lately, as he always was, because Tharja never accepted to stop experimenting with dark magic or the arcane arts in spite of the dangers.

"Tharja...?" Libra rapped his knuckle on the door, Tharja's private study on the other side.

She had pushed and pushed, and eventually Chrom allowed Tharja to use one of the castle's many empty rooms as a personal laboratory, where she could practice all of the hexes she wanted. Libra, being a man of the Gods and an overall good guy, wasn't so sure that that was the right idea; he might have been simply acting overprotective of his wife, but he didn't want her to dabbling with black magic any more than she had to. The war was over and they had won, so it was time they could finally put their weapons to rest. Libra was grateful for Tharja's powers and knew she could be trusted with them, she had saved his life many times in the battlefield, but the magic itself was something Libra couldn't trust.

"Tharja, are you in there? I wanted to talk to you." Libra knocked again.

Tharja didn't open the door, but he could hear her let out a weak groan from inside of the room. She sounded like she was barely conscious, and then there was another sound, like the sizzle of a bubbling cauldron.

"Tharja!"

Libra quickly darted over to one of the armored statues that stood as decorations of the hall; fortunately the weapons they carried on them were quite real. Grabbing an axe, which brought back a few old memories, the priest started to tear into the door, slicing off chunks of wood with every swing. Once the door had been chipped away, Libra tossed the axe aside and ran into the room.

"Tharja, are you...alright?" Libra stopped.

Tharja moaned again, her hands stretched high over her head and an orb of purple and black gasses hovering above her. It twisted and churned, filling the room with a dim violet light. Tharja opened her mouth wider, and to the onlooking horror of Libra, the gas flowed inside and down her throat. Almost immediately, the effects started to take place. Tharja's body grew outward with an onslaught of fat. Her thin face sprouted a pair of fat and heavy cheeks along with a prominent double chin to frame it perfectly in its fatness. The skin-tight, transparent suit she wore started to rip at the seams, tearing in places as the fat spilled forth from her being. Tharja's thighs slammed together, her rear devoured her panties as it lunged from the suit's confinements, her breasts grew swollen and heavy, her arms became plump enough to squeeze. Tharja's belly had gone from broadsword-flat abs to a burgeoning double-rolled gut that could have dangled down to her knees if the growth hadn't stopped, almost as abruptly as it had begun.

Libra made a silent prayer to the Gods out of pure shock.

The gaseous ball had disappeared inside the dark mage, and Tharja's eyes snapped open.

"Oh my..." Tharja touched her stomach and caressed it like a loving child, muttering under her breath, "I'm not as big as I thought I would be...it seems that I didn't put quite enough hair of taguel or manakete clippings into the recipe...I'm going to need to rework it now..."

"What...?" Libra exclaimed, that one word being the only plausible thing he could think of to say at the moment.

Tharja looked up to see her husband standing there. "Oh my...so you've found me out," she grinned darkly, "Aren't I a bad, chubby girl? Although then again, I wasn't really thinking to make myself fat, but I had to test this spell out on somebody...heh."

"Tharja, what did you do to yourself? What sort of spell is this?"

"It's a fat spell, of course. You've seen how big the rest of the women around here have gotten...why should I be the only one left out? And why should any of the other girls be able to escape it?"

"What?"

"You wouldn't understand, my husband...it's a little too complicated..." Tharja smirked. In reality, she just wanted to fit in better with the big girls, and to protect herself from being mocked for her newfound fatness she could also threaten to make others overweight too. It was like sniping two birds with one arrow.

Libra sighed. He prayed to the Gods that he hoped to understand his wife's motivations better some day.