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Story / Fat Furs
Species Orc
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A commission for BitterBosc featuring his OC Barj, an orc barbarian who finds a powerful enchanted belt that absolutely isn't cursed, and slowly grows into the biggest hero of Waterdeep. Enjoy! This story also features a cameo of Weal, a character owned by 
ryujin790, with his permission.
Barj tore out another piece of Weal's brambleberry pie, stuffing it into his face, grumbling with frustration as the healing enchantment eased some of the bruises on his arm and belly. For good measure, he also snatched up some of the bugbear baker's cream puffs, which helped toughen up his skin— and then an extra one, just for luck.
The orc had given up on armor a couple of weeks back; those dwarven hacks didn't know what they were doing. Besides, barbarians didn't need armor— at least, that's what he told himself when he realized how expensive getting mithril armor constantly resized would be. Simply put, the weight continued to pile on; he blamed himself. He had seen his willpower completely collapse under the temptation from places like Weal's delights. Now, there was no hiding the excess weight; once rockhard, toned muscle was covered under a thick layer of pliable fat. His arms and chest still held some shape, but his belly had ballooned, jutting far past his chest. He couldn't even see the belt he relied on anymore by looking down, and was only grateful it hadn't snapped under the pressure.
He had run up hefty bills all over town, in all of Waterdeep's finest restaurants; not just for food, though. There was an unfortunate event at the Flagon Dragon involving Barj, two suckling pigs, and a wooden bench that he was still convinced collapsed due to shoddy craftsmanship. He had even considered leaving Waterdeep, to get back in shape by escaping all the city's fine luxuries and creature comforts— but he really, really liked those creature comforts.
Which is why he was here, in the cellar of the Cliffwatch Inn, fighting a giant ooze. It should have been no problem for him, but the ooze absorbed every punch, every blow of his mace. He kept winding himself, throwing all his mighty strength against it, and trying to avoid getting sucked in and suffocated by its mass. He had backed it into the wine cellar, at least, and saw it in the dim torchlight— a quivering mass of amber gold.
"Come on!" Barj snarled. "I'm going to smash you apart, get back to my place, and have a shepherd's pie and a nap." He grunted. "Shepherd's pie and a nap, shepherd's pie and a nap…" he muttered to himself, as if it were a war chant. He swung again at the ooze, but the quivering, barely sentient blob slipped around him, mashing into his thick side— and it was sticky.
Barj felt his skin crawl as he pried himself loose, some of the ooze dripping off him in viscous gobs. It smelled… it smelled like clover. "Wait…" he furrowed his brow, looking up at the ooze as he licked one of the droplets coming off his arm. "Are you… made of honey?"
The ooze struck again in response, forming into a battering ram-like shape to knock Barj down. Snorting, the orc threw down his mace, and decided to throw in for a desperate gamble. He thumped his plush chest, ignoring how it rippled, and let out a battle cry. Raging as only a barbarian could, Barj lumbered toward the ooze, charging it, and threw his full weight and mass against it. He was enveloped by the ooze, but instead of struggling for breath, he opened his mouth and took a bite out of it. He would have shouted in triumph if he could; the creature was made of honey!
Barj kicked his thick legs and flailed, trying to breach for the surface of the ooze, gulping down more and more mouthfuls of it. The ooze quivered as he did so. His stomach began to ache by taking on so much at once, but he was counting on the enchanted pastries to keep him in one piece; the crest of his taut, stuffed belly pushed through the ooze before his head did, and all at once, it exploded, gobs of honey splattered all over the wine casks of the cellar.
Barj hit the ground with a heavy whump, the extra plush in his round rear cushioning his fall. The barbarian leaned back against the cold stone wall, groaning as he reached as far around his distended belly as far as he could— the mass of his torso spilled over, smothering his lap and pushing apart his trunk-thick legs. He had never felt so heavy; gulping down the mass of honey-like ooze had packed on so much more mass, he could feel the extra pounds settling on his frame, laying like lead pellets in his enormous belly as every part of his body was stuffed and expanded from the act of consuming the monster.
"Oh, Gods…" he groaned. "I forgot… what it feels like to actually be full."
ryujin790, with his permission.Barj tore out another piece of Weal's brambleberry pie, stuffing it into his face, grumbling with frustration as the healing enchantment eased some of the bruises on his arm and belly. For good measure, he also snatched up some of the bugbear baker's cream puffs, which helped toughen up his skin— and then an extra one, just for luck.
The orc had given up on armor a couple of weeks back; those dwarven hacks didn't know what they were doing. Besides, barbarians didn't need armor— at least, that's what he told himself when he realized how expensive getting mithril armor constantly resized would be. Simply put, the weight continued to pile on; he blamed himself. He had seen his willpower completely collapse under the temptation from places like Weal's delights. Now, there was no hiding the excess weight; once rockhard, toned muscle was covered under a thick layer of pliable fat. His arms and chest still held some shape, but his belly had ballooned, jutting far past his chest. He couldn't even see the belt he relied on anymore by looking down, and was only grateful it hadn't snapped under the pressure.
He had run up hefty bills all over town, in all of Waterdeep's finest restaurants; not just for food, though. There was an unfortunate event at the Flagon Dragon involving Barj, two suckling pigs, and a wooden bench that he was still convinced collapsed due to shoddy craftsmanship. He had even considered leaving Waterdeep, to get back in shape by escaping all the city's fine luxuries and creature comforts— but he really, really liked those creature comforts.
Which is why he was here, in the cellar of the Cliffwatch Inn, fighting a giant ooze. It should have been no problem for him, but the ooze absorbed every punch, every blow of his mace. He kept winding himself, throwing all his mighty strength against it, and trying to avoid getting sucked in and suffocated by its mass. He had backed it into the wine cellar, at least, and saw it in the dim torchlight— a quivering mass of amber gold.
"Come on!" Barj snarled. "I'm going to smash you apart, get back to my place, and have a shepherd's pie and a nap." He grunted. "Shepherd's pie and a nap, shepherd's pie and a nap…" he muttered to himself, as if it were a war chant. He swung again at the ooze, but the quivering, barely sentient blob slipped around him, mashing into his thick side— and it was sticky.
Barj felt his skin crawl as he pried himself loose, some of the ooze dripping off him in viscous gobs. It smelled… it smelled like clover. "Wait…" he furrowed his brow, looking up at the ooze as he licked one of the droplets coming off his arm. "Are you… made of honey?"
The ooze struck again in response, forming into a battering ram-like shape to knock Barj down. Snorting, the orc threw down his mace, and decided to throw in for a desperate gamble. He thumped his plush chest, ignoring how it rippled, and let out a battle cry. Raging as only a barbarian could, Barj lumbered toward the ooze, charging it, and threw his full weight and mass against it. He was enveloped by the ooze, but instead of struggling for breath, he opened his mouth and took a bite out of it. He would have shouted in triumph if he could; the creature was made of honey!
Barj kicked his thick legs and flailed, trying to breach for the surface of the ooze, gulping down more and more mouthfuls of it. The ooze quivered as he did so. His stomach began to ache by taking on so much at once, but he was counting on the enchanted pastries to keep him in one piece; the crest of his taut, stuffed belly pushed through the ooze before his head did, and all at once, it exploded, gobs of honey splattered all over the wine casks of the cellar.
Barj hit the ground with a heavy whump, the extra plush in his round rear cushioning his fall. The barbarian leaned back against the cold stone wall, groaning as he reached as far around his distended belly as far as he could— the mass of his torso spilled over, smothering his lap and pushing apart his trunk-thick legs. He had never felt so heavy; gulping down the mass of honey-like ooze had packed on so much more mass, he could feel the extra pounds settling on his frame, laying like lead pellets in his enormous belly as every part of his body was stuffed and expanded from the act of consuming the monster.
"Oh, Gods…" he groaned. "I forgot… what it feels like to actually be full."
Category Story / Fat Furs
Species Orc
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 102.2 kB
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