FE Three Houses: Hefty Hutt Women (Part 1)

Part 2: https://www.patreon.com/posts/fe-three-houses-132937989

Tags: Extreme weight gain, Hutt TF, personality change 

--- Prologue ---

“I will rain down. . .aaaggh. . .hell upon them!” Cornelia struggled to speak through rage and mass as she circled the forming spell. Diagrams that had been drawn by clumsy, heavy hands glowed with a sickly green energy. Pillars rose at key points of the pentagram. The small stands held various items of magical import, helping to boost the power of the spell. Cornelia moved around them, shaking the items with her bulk. The hastily erected pillars shook as the large woman moved her bulk around, trying to chant the words of the spell. She did not care if the items lasted through the spell, as long as they amplified her already terrible power. She was going to exact her revenge upon Gerreg Mach and the Church of Seiros by any means necessary. The damage had already been done to her body, it was now just a matter of transferring that pain and suffering. The spell intensified as she approached, feeding off her rage. “A hell of wretched gluttony, gnawing greed, and unending lust!” She lifted her arms, flabby biceps drooping down onto breasts which had burst from her dark feathered dress. The corpulent woman made ready to enter the storm of magic. 

“Let them think only of their own desires!” Cornelia pointed a finger at the spell circle, many colored lighting reaching out to touch her sausage finger. Energy flowed through her body, siphoning out any rage and hate to use as fuel. The disgraced noblewoman closed in on the circle, knowing that it would need more from her. Her arms stretched out wider, her watermelon sized breasts falling down further onto her gigantic stomach. She had been growing for days now, the evil inside of her maturing. She gestated the curse within her own body, nurturing it until it was ready to be unleashed. She would visit what had been done to her a thousand times over upon the servants of the church. He thick fingers moved quicker than they had in days as they channeled the crackling energy. Her stomach hovered just at the line of the spell circle. “Warp their young, supple bodies like you have mine!” She cried to forces dark and terrible, revealing what the curse had done to her in full. 

Cornelia’s upper body was that of a human woman, for the most part. Her forearms were flabby and rendered stumpy by the buildup of fat. Her face had become coruplent, weighed down by several extra chins. Her breasts were obscene in their fatness, thudding against a stomach which fell to the floor. Yet, it was her bottom half where the curse truly lay. As one traced the line of her stomach, they found it never ended. Rather, it widened out, merging with what had once been her hips and the start of her legs. Further, in place of legs she had grown a thick, stumpy tail. Fatter than any snake, Cornelia could most readily be compared to a grub or worm. Pink and flabby, her beautiful curves had become obscene rolls on a body that undulated rather than walked. She slithered forward, thrusting her gut into the air for locomotion. The energy in the spell grew to a fever pitch as she undulated onto the pentagram. Her fat tail curled, snaking around the edges of the inner circle. The spell studied her, understanding the profane damage she had done. Further, it understood to whom that curse was to be transferred. Cornelia cackled as she felt the curse leaving the room, seeking out her prey. The servants of the church would be undone, changed in soul and body now. 

--- Indifference  ---

“Professor! We cannot rest right now!” Lysithea, stomping a foot on the cobblestone path. She and Byleth had only managed to make it as far as the garden in which tea parties were held. Under the large moon, Byleth’s large body was illuminated fully as it rested on one of the marble benches. The green haired woman sat fanning her face, tired of the short walk Lysithea had forced her on. Her butt filled the bench, dribbling off the side even. The warrior body she had cultivated over years as a mercenary had been eviscerated in a little under a month. Now, 600 pounds of pure and coddled fat stood in its place. Byleth leaned back untucking her double rolled gut from her pants. Her clothes were little better than the skimpy uniforms dancers wore. However, byleth’s clothes had become revealing through the wear and tear of her growing body. The advance of fat against her clothes had been relentless, leaving only tatters behind. 

“Just. . .a moment. . .please. . .Lysithea.” Byleth all but begged, wanting to rest her aching legs. Really, she wanted to do more, but her caretaker would only complain. Byleth wanted food. More than anything, she wanted to sit at the dinner table and drown her hunger in an avalanche of sweets and meats. It was only the concern of her favorite student that prevented that. Byleth was hauled upward by Lysithea. Her thin, trembling hands sunk deep into forearms which now had a dedicated wobble to them. 

“No, Professor!” Lysithea tugged as if her life at Gerreg Mach depended on it. As it stood, only Byleth’s life and reputation were at stake, but that was enough to provoke the genius into action. “Lady Rhea. . .aaaah. . .said we. . .uggh. . .had to meet. . .at midnight!” Lysithea pulled until she could pull no more. She then switched to pushing, throwing her shoulder into one of Byleth’s massive buttcheeks. The professor rose slowly, wheezing and complaining the entire way. When she stood, Byleth looked uncomfortable. Though undoubtedly fat, she moved as if she was twice as heavy. There was a clumsiness to her that had not existed before. With her training, Byleth should have been more mobile than the average fat woman. The thought troubled Lysithea. Already her mind had begun running through possibilities of what was happening. None of them good. 

“I hope. . .she has. . .snacks.” Byleth murmured, her boots thumping onto the soft grass of the garden. Lysithea pushed her along, not wasting time or energy on conversation. She spread her thin arms as much as she possibly could. Though Byleth was taller and far fatter, the white haired honor student would push through with pure determination. Rhea, and many others were waiting. Given what had been happening with Rhea, Lysithea knew that there would most likely be plenty of snacks for Byleth. . .and the other women afflicted. 

---

The silent hall beneath the citadel was supposed to be a quiet place. It was a hidden chamber for the high ranking members of the church to pray and meditate. It was said that, were one quiet, the voice of Sothis would guide them to any answer. Unfortunately, Sothis’ voice would be drowned out that night. The noise of eating and talking was loud, and only the well padded vaults of the chamber kept them from being discovered. Byleth and Lysithea had found the other women waiting for them, sectioned off into pairs. It was not hard to tell which women were under the same affliction as Byleth. Archbishop Rhea, Marianne Von Edmund, and Petra Macneary all bore the same corpulence that she did. However, Lysithea noted with embarrassment, Byleth was noticeably fatter than the other women. Those afflicted had been joined by a confidant. Catherine to protect Rhea, Dorothea Arnault at Petra’s ample side, and Hilda Goneril continued to be inseparable from her blue haired friend. 

“Ahh, our final member arrives.” Rhea said with both warmth and concern. She tried to stand from her seat, a large bench placed in front of an altar, but gave up. Her gut jutted outwards, making sure there was no loose fabric within her uniform. Lysithea frowned a bit as she noticed some alterations had been made to the robes of the archbishop. Her chest was exposed, with a hasty tear and stitch job parting the rich fabric. The signs of the curse were growing ever more noticeable. These four women were not acting like themselves. Rhea treasured her position and would not normally flaunt her office. Yet, she sat on her bench like a pampered church official. “I suppose we will have to get down to business. . .and stop admiring my lovely new dress.” Rhea’s smile was indulgent and haughty. 

“Our admiration has not been spent on you!” Petra piped up. She leaned against Dorothea, practically burying the other woman in her blubber. Though at least a third of Byleth’s weight, Petra was more than big enough to flatten the opera singer. “A tongue that is golden and body of curves. . .most invigorating!” She stroked Dorothea’s chest, unabashedly lusting after the brunette. She inched over on her seat, shoving a meaty buttcheek onto Dorothea’s thigh. 

“Marianne is ready, Lady Rhea!” Hilda nudged her friend, trying to tear her attention away from a trinket she had bought in the market. The blue haired woman held a locket between her thumb and forefinger, turning the gold piece over and over. As she studied it, Marianne began to mumble, reciting prices and offers she had heard from other vendors. Hilda nudged the soft spoken woman again, finally getting her to look up. She pressed the locket to her chest, burying it in the fluff of her chest. She was the most dressed out of any of the cursed women. Petra had altered her clothes similar to Rhea’s, trying to show off her curves for Dorothea. Marianne had seemingly added layers to her clothes, showing off an expensive coat that she had bought along with several matching necklaces. The bill of sale for the jacket, as well as other offers from tailors, lined the jacket’s pockets. Marianne had been uncharacteristically shrewd about her purchases. “She wants to know what’s happening to her!” Hilda said in lieu of Marianne doing anything other than investigating her clothing and locket. 

   “I believe I can help with that!” Lysithea spoke up. She guided Byleth to an unoccupied bench, and helped the obese woman sit down. Byleth flopped down first on her ample butt, but she quickly switched to lying on her back. Lysithea groaned, looking at the fat mountain which rose into the air. She looked back at the other assembled women. “It should probably not be a surprise, but you all have been cursed.” Lysithea looked around, surprised at the disinterested faces of the cursed women. Only their handlers seemed to be interested, to varying degrees. The short woman continued, trying to sell the severity of the situation. “It’s dark, forbidden magic! If we don’t find a cure, you all will be changed in body and soul.” She stopped, hoping for questions. Instead, she got a loud yawn from her favorite professor. Stamping her foot, Lysithea left nothing on the table. “You all are going to end up as fat slugs! I looked it up!” She pouted, crossing her arms.  

--- Containment ---

Though the women were indifferent to Lysithea’s pronouncement, it came true all the same. Rhea, Byleth, Marianne, and Petra all continued to bloat out of control. They grew bigger by the day, cloistered within the secret chamber. Food was brought to the women around the clock; heaping baskets of it. Under the strictest orders of Lysithea, the women were not allowed to leave the chamber. There, with the vaulted ceiling above them, the quartet completed the first stage of their transformation. Their legs thickened, merging into thick, stumpy tails. Their bellies grew until they drooped onto the floor. Slender arms became thick with fat, seeming almost short. Their skin changed color, becoming brilliant hues. They were ever more possessed by gluttony, such as would befit their corpulent forms. The women slithered and undulated upon their thick trunks, pushing their fattening bodies towards whatever food was presented to them. Their chosen protectors watched, praying to Sothis that the curse might be undone. Instead, it only worsened. They started to develop other desires, ones that could not be fulfilled by lingering in the secret chamber. . .

“Lysithea, dear, I MUST go out and see my congregation.” Rhea said, days after being sequestered in the lower chambers. She thrust her stomach forward, trying to push her way out of the chamber. Her robes draped across a body that seemed to possess little of her former beauty and holiness. White robes shifted atop a vividly green torso. From the top of her round head to the tip of her fat tail, Rhea was bathed in emerald green. Her hands, now with only three thick fingers, cupped large breasts in a show of concern. “They are lost without me. Even in this bloated and corrupted body, I should perform my duties.” She made another shove with her vastness. The slug-woman was stopped only by the enduring strength of Catherine, who supported the smaller Lysithea. 

“Lady Rhea, I assure you. . .uuggh. . .the other bishops. . .aaah. . .can handle your duties.” Catherine grunted as she tried to hold back the tide of heavenly blubber. Catherine had always been a tall, strong woman meant for the battlefield. Trying to hold back her lady, however, was like wrestling an ox. Rhea had grown both in weight and height. Already a woman of imposing demeanor, she had become almost terrifying as she shot past 6 feet. Catherine now had the pleasure of looking up into pale green eyes surrounded by thick cheeks of blubber. 

“How am I to lead my flock down in this dungeon!” Rhea thrust her arms out, surging forward again. Perhaps one of the more unnerving parts of the curse was how adept the women had become in their new locomotion. Even more than when they were bipedal, the ladies could undulate and use their arms. It was as if their lower half moved independently to their top half. As Rhea was corralled and pushed away from the door, she continued to gesticulate. Her grand and eloquent commands were met by equally flamboyant arm movements. “May Sothis have mercy on me. I neglect my followers for more. . .more. . .food!” Thankfully, the archbishop followed the whims of her stomach. The ground shifted as she moved away, the fattened end of her tail twitching in frustration.

“She will be back soon.” Catherine sighed, sitting on the steps which led up towards the main part of the cathedral. “The food can’t come fast enough to entertain them anymore.” The older woman looked at the partial slug her lady had become. Rhea found her way through the vaults with her gut thrusting out before her, breasts sliding side to side. Her immaculate robes became more threadbare by the day, ruined by the advance of fat. Rhea reached the communal serving area. She picked up a large platter and proceeded to dump it into her waiting mouth. Her green skin seemed to glow as her desire for food was met. Rhea billowed across the room, moving in a slow circle as she built up the strength to make another attempt on the door. Her flabby arms shook as the plate lifted higher. She ate messily, knowing that more food would be presented to her soon. Catherine shook her head, watching the display. “She grows stronger and bigger by the day. A divine beast.” The blonde sighed, flexing a tired arm. “If only I were stronger.” 

“I had thought that increasing their food portions might slow them down.” Lysithea sat on the step beside Catherine. She kicked her feet, far shorter than the swordswoman. “I think that only worked on the professor. . .” She looked over at Byleth, who lolled next to the stairway. 

“Mmmmggph. . .BBBOOORRUUUP. . .jussccht. . .needssccch better. . .mmmgghp. . .food.” Byleth’s recommendation matched her own size and stature. Her skin tone might have matched Rhea’s, but the curse was branching in different directions for the pair. Byleth had not deviated from her corpulent, gluttonous desires. Food was her sole temptation, to the point a separate feeding station had to be created for her. She rolled back and forth by the stairs, happy to glut herself on a pile of food. Byleth scooped food into her mouth, lying with her body stretched out. The tatters of her clothes were covered in food stains, as was the green skin underneath. Her blubber burst outwards, pooling upon the floor. Whenever she hit a particularly delicious patch of the pile, she would thump her thick tail on the ground. She was always active during her feedings, but that would soon melt into lethargy as her gut filled. 

“Professoooor, could you at least eat standing up?” Lysithea asked, wondering if resting on a wide, stubby tail counted as standing. “This is demeaning!” Lysithea hated to see her most cherished advisor rolling on a musty floor. She stepped off of her stair, grabbing a thick arm. “Stand up!” She commanded, straining her tiny body. Lysithea was quickly reminded why Catherine was the true guard of the door. For all her spunk, it was useless against Byleth’s blubber. The green skinned slug ended up shifting to a more reasonable position, but it had little to do with her student’s intervention. Byleth simply wanted to feel the food pile rubbing against her massive torso. She rolled forward, pressing her wrecking ball stomach into the food. Lysithea, meanwhile, returned to her seat in defeat. She put her head in her hands, once again trying to think up a solution. Rhea and Byleth were hardly the only problems. . .

---

“Arrrgggh. . .oh. . .troublesome. . .wall. . .please budge.” Petra wriggled like a worm on a hook, caught within what she thought might be an escape route. The remains of her uniform were ripped away in her assault on the hole. Her saber was the only part of her uniform that had remained intact. Petra could tell by the way that it poked into her meaty flank. She could practically feel the bruise forming upon her supple skin. Softness, doughiness comprised her being now. Whatever parts of her that had been hardened through combat had melted into fatty sludge. Now, colored a bright orange, she was little more than a roly-poly slug. More importantly, she was a slug that had been caught in a wall. Her arms were held outward, unable to bend because of the press of fat. She had intended to pull herself through, but that plan had failed quite quickly. To make matters worse, she found her new tail was less than useful at going in reverse. Petra was cursed to be a creature that could only lazily shove its way forward, usually towards food. She thumped her tail on the ground, feeling the strength draining out of her. “At least I shall be burning. . .these pounds away from me.” Petra’s words remained clumsy and ill suited, matching the movements of her body. 

“Ah-ha!” A voice came from the other side of the wall. Dorothea walked into view of the trapped slug. “Making our escape, are we?” She put a hand to her mouth to block out a bit of laughter. Petra was caught even more than she realized. Her orange fat billowed through the small hole like rising bread. Even her cheeks were puffed, though part of that was from frustration. “I thought we were all having a lot of fun?” Dorothea winked. She knelt down, putting herself on eye level with her charge. Petra looked up through messy hair and puffy cheeks. She licked her lips, her mind envisioning what Dorothea must have looked like from behind. Her knees and hips were bent just enough to make it difficult for her skirt to cover her sumptuous rump. Wordlessly, Petra struggled, wanting to reach out and feel the soft skin of the other woman. Her constant flirting was driving Petra to extremes. “Or did you have a hot date?” 

“No, the kitchens. . .aaaggh. . .have not delivered. . .any heated dates for us. . .grruh. . .eat!” Petra spoke through struggles. Beyond lacking the strength to remove herself from the hole, she was caught on which direction to go. The object of her lust was in front of her, whilst the promise of food was behind her. “ Bring some?” She tried to look sweet, wishing for both food and physical attention. “Since I am sticking like a rat in a cage.” Petra bucked, flopping what she could move of her torso and tail. A small blush appeared on the opera singer’s face as she felt the impact of Petra upon the ground. Her rotund grub was growing by the day. She may not have had the height of Rhea or the corpulence of Byleth, but Dorothea could sense a budding uniqueness within Petra. Something was changing within the sun-colored partial slug. 

“Awwww. . .well you do look pretty cute!” Dorothea reached a hand out and played with one of Petra’s chins. Petra responded by letting her long, broad, thick tongue flop out. She teased Dorothea with it, working it between her fingers. The singer laughed. “Tell you what, I will trade food for information.” Dorothea left her hand to be licked by the foreign student. Her other shoved into a pocket, drawing forth several chocolates. “What were you doing? And where were you slithering off too, my chubby myrmidon?”

Petra made a go at the chocolates, but Dorothea was far too quick. She sighed and settled back into her hole. She thought, trying to come up with a better answer than she had. Her tail began to thump again as she thought, unable to hide its feelings. Petra blushed, her cheeks turning from orange to purple. “I was wishing to practice swords.” She offered, trying to lunge for the chocolates again. The wall shook as the bulk of the slug woman tested it. A bit of dust fell from the ceiling. “I was wanting to be wetstonning my skills.” She offered, hoping the lie would take. It did not. 

“Uuuuuuh-huh. . .” Dorothea’s free hand returned to caressing Petra’s cheeks. It slowly floated down, finding a large and ripe breast. Petra’s chest has blossomed under the constant watering of calories. Proportionally, her breasts might have beaten Byleth’s. “And it didn’t have anything to do with this being the girl’s hot shower night?” Dorothea squeezed lightly, eliciting a deep moan from her slug-woman. “You wouldn’t be having impure, sluggy thoughts about the ladies here. . .would you?” 

“Noooooo!” Petra whined, caught in more ways than one. “Not even once have I thought in such a polluted way.”

“Good!” Dorothea nodded, handing out the chocolates. Petra worked on them the same way that she had her friend’s empty hand. The tongue appeared again, searching greedily for good. Chocolate was melted, smeared, and then licked away leaving a completely clean hand. Petra undulated in her trap, as if willing her body to be closer to any source of food. Again, dust fell from the ceiling as her tail beat either side of the wall. It was, perhaps, the cutest and most pathetic thing that Dorothea had ever seen. She held her hand closer, letting Petra play with it more. “Though, there might be one girl I’ll allow you to have lewd thoughts about.” Dorothea patted Petra’s hefty cheek, squishing her fingers into the brightly colored pudge. Petra looked up, hopeful. She was granted a wink in return. 

From behind the loose wall Hilda watched Petra’s fat butt and tail wriggle. Hips and what had formerly been a small, pert rump jiggled madly. The snub nosed tip of the orange slug-woman’s tail quaked with extra glee as the sounds of kissing started. Hilda smiled at first, though her expression changed as the sounds intensified. Petra was a thorough and sloppy lover. Hilda turned away, her steps quickened by squeals of glee from Dorothea. The opera singer was adept at using her voice, and was intentionally throwing her moans and yells about the cave. The pink haired woman shook her head. The sounds behind her continued to become ever more obscene. By the time she had arrived at Marianne’s little alcove, Hilda was happy to be away from the main bulk of the worm women. She could spend some time with her favorite of the cursed women. Her quirks were at least the most manageable of the bunch. 

“Heeey, Mari, brought you some food!” Hilda ducked into the chamber. It was a smaller adjoining room, meant for single person prayer or small studies. Much like the other women, Marianne had transformed her space as well. The original furniture had been moved, pushed to the far back of the room. Furniture was not needed by the slug-women, their bodies turned into moveable couches. Billowing rolls and oozing deposits of fat saw them becoming the most comfortable beings within the monastery. The space had instead been co-opted for Marianne’s acquisitions. She had been collecting anything of value in the secret chamber. Golden candlesticks, illuminated books of worship, artfully constructed holy symbols all were polished and arranged on a carpet that she had dragged in from another room. Piles of uneaten, hoarded food also were around the carpet, showing the new value that Marianne placed on sustenance. While the other women had been mindlessly glutting themselves, the blue bodied slug-woman had been building a reserve of wealth. “Come get it while it’s hot!” 

“Hildy. . .uuuggh. . .are you sure. . .aaaggh. . .you were not followed?” Marianne asked, shoving her way out from along the wall. Her light blue body shone in the low light, shining like a gemstone. She clutched worried and grasping hands together, folding them atop her prodigious belly. The nervous woman undulated forward, taking quick looks at her mountain of gold and stockpiled food. Marianne was the best dressed grub so far within the hold, though only  because she had removed the sparkling jacket she had bought days before. It was wrapped around her tail, allowed to flap in time with her hefty slithers. Concern over protecting any wealth had overpowered any fear she might have had at being seen naked. She could live with Hilda seeing her unclothed rolls and thick bodied tail. She could not abide her jacket being ruined or ripped. The bodies of the cursed women were most destructive to clothing, their corpulence growing quickly and unstoppably as meals progressed. “They might. . .uuggh. . .get curious. . .” Marianne thrust her gut against Hilda’s. She leaned forward to grab the smaller woman’s shoulders, wanting assurance. 

“I promise, Mari, the other women are. . .very. . .very busy with other things.” Hilda rolled her eyes, thinking of the other suspect ways that the cursed women were passing the time. Marianne hardly looked strange when compared to them. Her biggest issue continued to be a lack of socialness, but that was par for the course. “How about you take your mind off of things with some food?” Hilda offered the plate up, feeling a little like she was presenting an offering to a forbidden deity. The height difference between the two had only become more pronounced. Hilda saw more of her timid, greedy friend’s chins and flopping breasts than her eyes. 

“I can at least appraise it!” Marianne squished her bulk down, trying to lower herself enough to take the food. Hilda shivered, realizing just how much bigger her friend would be if she ate the food that was brought to her rather than storing it. Marianne took the plate. She picked through the food with a plump hand, sorting and arranging it. She would eat some of it, bringing it up to her mouth between two plump fingers. “Hmmm. . .yeesscch. . .mmgghp. . .good. . .oh. . .that can be sscchaved. . .non-persischable. . .mmmmghp. . .gotta eat thascch.” She ate messily, dumping food into her mouth as quickly as her stumpy arms would allow. Whatever could be stored was set aside, though at great pain to the hungry grub. Marianne would look longingly at the morsels, wishing to jam them into her abyssal gullet. Hilda leaned against the wall of the alcove, watching her closest friend work. Marianne leaned back on her tail, her stomach ballooning outwards. The plate rested upon her gut, allowing for better sorting. Marianne looked down through piles of chin fat and two naked breasts. She then started to categorize the food by what would be most tasty. “Yeeeesss. . .the others will have to come buy this.” Marianne laughed, her fat jumping up and down. She twisted with mirth, coiling her tail up at the thought. 

“Mari. . .maybe you should just eat the whole plate today.” Hilda walked forward and put a hand on the large slug-woman’s shoulder. Marianne might have jumped, had her body still been capable of any more refined movement. 

“What!” She shrank back, clutching her plate protectively. “But. . .this is my. . .treasure!” She guarded the food. “How could I ever part with this?” 

Hilda hugged the bigger woman, her arms melting into soft, blue fat. She waited until Marianne started to relax again. Though none as much as Petra, the cursed women were all more susceptible to physical touch. Massages, stroking, hugs, anything that aggrandized their bulk was enticing. As Marianne relaxed, Hilda made her suggestion. “You know, even kings and queens sometimes use their wealth. Maybe it’s time to show yours off a little?” She looked up at her roly-poly confidant. “A nice big meal, wrapped in some of the gold you found? Sounds pretty nice.” Hilda stroked the large woman’s hanging gut. She pushed and shoved its mass, wanting Marianne to feel empowered. She was not in a position to be scared any longer, given her mounting size. “I bet, if you gave a good pitch, Rhea would trade her robes for some of this. Wouldn’t that be fun too?” Hilda planted a small peck. “The new, blue archbishop, enjoying all her ill gotten food plunder!” 

“I could. . .buy. . .enjoy. . .trade.” Marianne ran over the suggestions in her mind. Slowly, a grin spread across her moon face. “What a wonderful suggestion. . .UUUGGGH. . .let us see. . .Hildy!” Marianne started into motion again, undulating with strong and powerful shoves of her gut. She moved fast enough that her coat began to slide off her rump. Hilda grabbed it, keeping it safe from being slithered on. “Rhea. . .uuuggh. . .Lady Rhea. . .I want to. . .aaggh. . .make an offer!” Mariane called, waving a flabby arm. Hilda trotted after, smiling. It felt nice to see her friend in action.

---

Later, after the group of cursed women had finally fallen asleep, their quartet of protectors met. They stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking back at the lumps that they had been chosen to keep safe. The slug-women had all gathered in the center to sleep, crowded around where food would be placed the next day. Their corpulent masses rose and fell as they snored. Petra pushed close to Byleth, needing to cuddle another warm body. Hilda sighed as she watched Marianne roll over, secretly trying to move to her stash. Even in sleep, the odd manifestations of their curses could be seen. The differences and the similarities were laid bare to the ladies on the stairs. Lysithea herself had been thinking. “This won’t last for long. Look at how big they are getting.” With a shy glance at her favorite professor, the snowy haired student continued. “We are lucky none of them have gotten hungry enough to make a real run at the stairs.”

“Lady Rhea alone might outgrow our hiding place.” Catherine blushed, looking at the divine magnificence. She had placed herself at the head of the group, well aware of her station in life. Even cursed to crawl on her belly, she was a figure of reverence. 

“But what can we do?” Dorothea asked. “I can only. . .entertain dear Petra for so long.” she tugged at her brown locks, wishing she was back in the pile of fleshy bodies. She wanted to straddle the purple haired slug from Brigid. 

There was an uncomfortable silence over the group. Firstly, because they wanted to chastise Dorothea and then because they realized the light hypocrisy. It was Lysithea who finally spoke again. “I think I can solve things!” She summoned energy to her palms. “But it will take a bit of magic. We can energize ourselves with a couple spells, give more strength and energy in order to deal with our girls.” Her heartbeat a little faster as she ran over the wording of her sentence. “I-it will take a lot of magic though!” She tried to move on quickly. “A lot of different spells will have to go into this.” She looked around the group. No one disagreed. Lysithea took a deep breath and began chanting words she had read from old tomes. These were going to be strange, powerful magics. However, strangeness might be needed to combat what they were facing.