The Big Girls of Skyrim

Within the sewers beneath Riften...

"Alright, here's the job; I don't want you coming back here unless you're carrying that jeweled urn with you. Now get out of here."

Vex's sharp, cold eyes trailed the newbie's back until he disappeared through the door leading back to the Ratway. She scoffed.

"Doesn't say much, does he? Little freak."

"Aye, he's a quiet one." Vekel the Man chuckled, "But he gets the job done, and honestly, can we ask for anything more, considering how many errands you send him on?"

"Well, he's looking to make some gold, just like we all are,"

"Yeah, but with him doing your work, you've been slacking off, Vex," Delvin Mallory suddenly spoke up, "You hang around the Ragged Flagon all day, drinking ale and eating goat cheese, heh heh heh."

"Ah, and don't forget the honey nut treats and the boiled cremes!" Vekel added.

Vex narrowed her eyes, glaring murderous daggers at her companion-in-name-only. "...What're you trying to imply, Delvin? I don't normally care about what you say, but it sounds like you're insulting me."

"I'm just saying, you're going to let yourself go if you keep pushing your work on the new guy. You'll get lazy."

"Excuse me? You think that just because I'm helping out the guild and getting the new kid some experience by letting him do my jobs is going to affect my skills? Who the hell do you think I am? I've been a thief for years, you know," Vex shouted. She ran up to the bar table and slammed her palms onto it, looking Delvin straight in the eye, "Besides, what about you? You're always giving the kid new missions that you should be doing!"

"On the contrary, my dear. I actually go out and do my work...when you're not looking, of course," Delvin laughed, waving his finger at the Imperial thief.

Vex was actually at a loss for words for a moment. "What? But...but you...I never saw you leave here once!"

"See? If you hadn't noticed me ever leaving, then that means my sneaking skills haven't rusted a lick."

"Oh, for Talos' sake..."

"I hope you're not too mad at me, Vex."

"If I was willing to spend the gold, I'd sic the Dark Brotherhood on you." Vex threatened, and turned away, storming off in a huff. Delvin and Vekel stared at her back, or to be more specific, her buttocks. Vex was still in denial about it, but she had gained an extraordinary amount of weight since she began shifting her jobs onto the new guy. Her constant consumption of alcohol and sweets had finally caught up to her. Her plump butt was stuffed tight inside her uniform; the two men could actually see it shake and ripple beneath the fabric, swaying back and forth in an unintentionally seductive way. The fatty globes seemed to drip down the backs of her thighs like melted cheese. Such round, meaty spheres, they easily overcame her breasts in size. Almost all of Vex's new weight came centered into her butt-cheeks. It was likely she continued standing all the time because she was afraid she would break a chair. She was somewhat aware of how fat she'd gotten, but still not enough to admit it and actually do something about it.

"Don't you think we should tell her instead of teasing her about it all the time?" Vekel asked.

Delvin shook his head. "Nah. She's always been kind of a bitch to everybody. Just desserts, if you ask me."

-----------

At the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary...

"Okay, so let me get this straight: an enemy assassin had been aware of Astrid's presence during her last mission, and followed her..."

"Yes."

"Then this person likely injected her with some kind of new, experimental poison without her knowing..."

"That's right."

"But instead of killing her, it's only going to cause her to grow...fat?"

"Exactly."

Arnbjorn scratched at his shaggy-haired head, his lips collapsing into a frown; he wasn't sure what to make of the story Babette and Nazir had just given him. He had returned after being gone for an assassination in Markarth that took nearly a month to complete, and he found, of all things, his wife had become obese.

He looked over at his wife and leader of the Dark Brotherhood, Astrid. She was busily stuffing her face with sweet rolls while lying back on her bed, allowing her new flabby, pudgy belly to rise up high in the air. Her eyes were glazed, unfocused, as she gorged without any sign of restraint. Her thighs had already grown, plump enough to touch, and her arms were bigger too. Her face was no longer thin and hollow, but fluffy. It was an Astrid that he had never seen before, like the woman he married had vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving this pudgy glutton in her place. Even her assassin gear was ripping to pieces trying to hold back the impending girth. Arnbjorn wouldn't say he was disappointed yet he didn't know how to properly feel either.

Astrid lifted herself up to a seated position and swing her fat legs over the bed's edge. Or at least, she did so after experiencing some difficulty in moving. She was getting so fat so quickly.

"L-Listen, Arnbjorn, don't start worrying about me now. I'm still the head of the Dark Brotherhood, and I can handle my job just fine. I simply let my guard down a little, and clearly, I'm paying for it. It's not something I'll allow to happen again...as soon as I can work off all of this weight, that is. I won't allow our organization to fail, as long as we make do with what we know and we follow under Sithis' guidance."

"Astrid..."

Astrid collapsed back onto her bed. Her entire body shook along with the bed underneath her. Her stomach didn't stop jiggling long after she had laid down; it was as if it was made of gelatine, not flesh. "Now, I need a - burp - moment's rest...I feel weary."

"I understand."

Babette and Nazir followed behind Arnbjorn as all three of them exited Astrid's bedroom. Nazir leaned near the much smaller Vampire girl.

"So...you're sure that making her too fat to work is going to keep her safe? Seems kinda self-defeating, if you ask me. I mean, she's going to be obese, all because of that potion you slipped into her drink!"

"Trust me. I'm a master alchemist and I've been alive for over three hundred years now; I know a lot more than you youngsters ever will. We need Astrid to keep leading the Dark Brotherhood, and if she ends up dying because of some reckless assassination, then we'll be left with no one to properly guide us! It'd be better for her to sit around and eat all day than put her life at risk trying to kill a noble surrounded by a dozen guards."

"Hmm...I hope so. Are you sure you're not just doing this for some kind of weird kink? Why did you have a potion that makes someone gain weight anyway? Or is it something else?"

Babette flashed a toothy grin. "That's none of your business. I'm not jealous of them for getting to be adults while I'm stuck as a measly child. Of course not."

Nazir stepped back. "O...kay..."

"I wonder," Babette murmured, noticing the pitifully thin Gabriella hunched over the alchemy lab, "If my little concoction would still have the same effects on a female Dunmer..."

"You better not!"

"Don't worry; I can just create an antidote. You don't think I would go and inject people with dangerous, experimental poisons without having an antidote prepared just in case something went wrong, do you?"

Nazir honestly couldn't answer that question; it really wasn't his business anyway.

-------------

In the College of Winterhold...

"If everyone would please give J'zargo a moment of their time, there is something he would like to show them." announced the Khajiit upon entering the Hall of the Elements, where most of the other students and teachers of Winterhold's magic academy resided during this part of the day. Everyone turned to look at the cat-man with expressions of interest; they were always thrilled to hear the new findings of a fellow mage. They gathered around him, and J'zargo, always loving to be the center of attention, performed a quick bow.

"You seem quite pleased with yourself, J'zargo," Tolfdir chuckled, "You must have discovered something quite amazing!"

"Ah, yes, where shall J'zargo begin? Do you all recall those modified flame cloak scrolls I had put together a few weeks ago?"

Tolfdir nodded. "I do...they gave Colette a good chance to show off her Restoration magic, because they kept exploding..."

"Yes, yes, but that was simply a mistake, a flaw in the incantation! This time, J'zargo has created a unique spell, and one that won't set you on fire! Perfection!"

"Is it another flame cloak?"

"No, no, it's a summon, a conjuration spell! Not J'zargo's usual cup of tea, but there was something about it that intrigued J'zargo enough to study up on it. J'zargo has put together a special scroll that will summon a new kind of Flame Atronach! Much different from the old one, you can be assured! This is the result of the fruits of J'zargo's labor! Behold!"

The Khajiit unraveled the scroll in his hand, and immediately, the sheet of paper erupted in a blossom of flames. Everyone shielded their eyes as the familiar blackish-blue portal of Oblivion began to open within mid-air. It was just so incredibly bright, it was almost unbearable. A Flame Atronach slipped out a few seconds later. It certainly wasn't normal, like J'zargo had said, but that didn't exactly mean a good thing in this case.

The Flame Atronach in front of them was morbidly obese, barely able to keep itself afloat while also supporting its massive, flabby body of living fire. Its huge, child-bearing hips and its full, plump breasts gave it a distinct hourglass-shape, and it had an equally large gut sandwiched in between. It tired to do a flip, as most Flame Atronach are prone to do, but it couldn't even manage that; the poor thing had to stop in mid-spin just to catch a breath. Its breasts flapped up and down, smacking against its belly, causing the resulting clap to echo through the great hall. The panting Flame Atronach bent over, hands on its knees, and released a deep belch, spewing out a handful of embers. A few more seconds, and the fat daedra collapsed onto the floor before it vanished completely. It was clearly in no shape to protect its summoner, or anyone else for that matter.

"Isn't it impressive? J'zargo simply changed a few things in the original summoning incantation, and right there, was a new kind of summon! There are still a few kinks to be worked out, but certainly, J'zargo has done good work to prove himself top mage, yes?"

A moment of silence. It was true, it WAS different from the usual Flame Atronach, but still...suddenly, it dawned on them.

Finally, Tolfdir laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, J'zargo!" Everyone else burst out laughing along with him.

J'zargo nodded. He was clueless. "Indeed. That is J'zargo's name."

---------------

At the Thalmor Embassy...

Elenwen was livid. Red in the face and livid. For the entire ride back to the Embassy, she had struggled to control herself, to keep her rising emotions under wraps and out of view from her contemporaries. By the time she had returned to her private room, alone and away from the other Thalmor, she had already calmed down somewhat, but she still saw red, wanting nothing more than to see a certain man's head sitting on a platter in front of her. That insufferable Nord bastard had intentionally mocked her, right to her face.

Only a few hours ago, she had paid a brief visit to Windhelm, to meet with its Jarl and the leader of the Stormcloak Rebellion, Ulfric Stormcloak. A major player in the Thalmor's bid to control Skyrim, Ulfric was openly racist against the elves, an ironic fact considering his little rebellion has been helping move along the Thalmor's plan this entire time. He had suspiciously agreed to a single meeting with Elenwen, the Emissary, on the grounds of believing he could convince her and the rest of Thalmor to leave Skyrim forever. As expected, it was an absolute failure of a meeting. They got nowhere, because Ulfric and that filthy, hairy idiot were constantly yelling. However, for Elenwen, she was nearly driven to the point of blasting the man in the face with a firebolt spell when he made a remark on her weight. He walked right up to her, poked the noticeable bulge of her dress, and flashed that shit-eating grin at her.

"If I've gotten anything out of this meeting, I think it's learning the weakness of a Thalmor woman: Nord food! And lots of it! Ha ha ha!"

Elenwen swept her hand across her nightstand, knocking over a large urn in the process. She was so angry. She quickly ran over to the mirror to check out her body. As she ran, she started to realize how much she was jiggling, something that she hadn't known about herself before. She placed a trembling hand on her stomach; it stuck out so far that she couldn't see her own feet anymore. It was so squishy, blubbery and soft, like the skin of a Horker. The same could be said for her plump arms and round face. She didn't want to, but she had to; she moved her hands further down. Her hips were actually flared outward with huge bubbles of fat trapped inside her thighs, making them appear absolutely gigantic. She had to practically peel her pants off of her body, quietly observing as every bump of cellulite and every inch of lard-bloated skin revealed themselves to her. She wanted to puke.

Elenwen wondered why no one had ever mentioned this to her before. Were they afraid to hurt her feelings, or what she might do to them in retaliation? It was not a natural thing for an elf to become fat, and to become this fat was clearly a mistake on her own part. Ulfric was right: the Nord food had done this to her.

Hyperventilating a little, Elenwen did the only thing she could think of: she ate. When living so far from home, while having to deal with the barbaric neanderthals known as the Nords on a daily basis, she needed some kind of miniscule comfort to keep her from going insane. Even if it was turning her into a blimp.

'Nord food...curse it for being so delicious...'