Demon Sorceress
Revenge at 600+lbs (Catherineburg)
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The death of the Demon Lord dealt a heavy blow to demonkind. A deeply top-down society, his death left nothing but chaos and infighting in it's wake. Still, all were united in seeking revenge against humanity for the Demon Lord's death, most of all his immediate subordinates who worked alongside him, plotting the downfall of mankind within the depths of secluded dungeons.
Among them was Lynnia, a lieutenant and sorceress of the Demon Lord. Deep within the dungeon Catherineburg was known for, she watched as the town's adventurers became fat and weak, their skills dulled by layers of adipose. However, she watched these projections with a frustrated glare, grumbling at the images shown to her by her spider familiars. To think, the perfect opportunity has fallen into my lap, and yet...
The reason for the sorceress's hesitation for taking advantage of the situation was apparent when you looked at her. Though the Demon Lord's curse had taken hold of Catherineburg, it had also taken hold of her. Her ass filled the large throne she sat in, to the point where the fatty flesh spilled over the armrests. Her massive stomach completely filled her lap, and would hang down to her knees when she stood like a wide, fleshy loincloth. Her breasts had grown to the size of overripe watermelons, bulging out of her already revealing clothes. Walking had already become a difficult challenge for her, and given her still increasing weight, it was unlikely to become any easier anytime soon.
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her pudgy hand. By this point, she'd only be recognizable as the Demon Lord's sorceress by the large, pointed, inky black crown that floated over her head, and the immense magical power she possessed. These thoughts were interrupted as a noise echos through the dungeon's boss hall. An intruder.
Show yourself! I am not to be trifled with- Her attempts at intimidation are foiled by the sound of her stomach grumbling, loudly demanding food.
Show yourself! I am not to be trifled with- Her attempts at intimidation are foiled by the sound of her stomach grumbling, loudly demanding food.