June 2023 Sketches

This month we have a couple of real chonkers- a gluttonous Vortex for Shucci the dragon, and an overly fed, ravenous Javid for Jay the Eel. Enjoy!

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Really, Vortex should have seen this coming- dating the Queen of Gluttony and attending her parties was bound to catch up with him eventually. Bee had thrown the biggest party of her career yet, with more of everything- especially the drinks and food, which Vortex had gorged himself on in reckless abandon.

The giant, nearly spherical hellhound was still panting softly from Bee's latest indulgent party, where he had drank and ate himself to oblivion. Little remained of the hard, musclebound bodyguard; now, he was a glob of dark fur and blubber. Vortex’s belly dominated his soft, plush form, his gut alone bigger than the average hellhound by a wide margin. His legs were now thicker than they were long as his belly sagged over his knees, and his arms, once rippling with rock-hard muscle, were like flour sacks resting atop a boulder. His beastly, canine face was soft and rounded out with doughy cheeks and multiple chins like so many heavy necklaces.

His massive thighs shifted around as he let out a low belch, his feet unable to touch the floor, propped up by his chunky legs. The cheeks of his monumental rump spread out on the dance floor, his tail looking nearly buried by the piles of rolls flooding over his back. Vortex wasn't even fully sure if he would be able to move himself out of the party, or if he would have to be rolled out, but at the moment, he didn't care- the honey was still sweet, the music was popping, and the hellhound couldn't wait to see what the next course would bring.

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Javid had almost no personal vices to speak of; he didn't cavort with lovers, he didn't drink, and he didn't covet gold or luxury. He possessed an almost iron will in all things, save for one small but exploitable vice- barbecue. Some other Espers knew of Javid's weakness, and they couldn't pass up the opportunity to see how far the lion would take it. What followed was an explosion of meat that saw the Marshal Esper blow up into an inflated parody of himself once all was said and done.

The lion’s gargantuan paunch spilled out over the waistband of his long-suffering pants, brushing against the floor and blocking off his thick, trunk-sized legs, each one wider than most people’s waists. His uniform was now shrink-wrapped around his rolls of fat back and heavily padded arms, particularly strained around his voluminous chest, mimicking a pair of sandbags as the doughy flesh pressed up against his shirt. The majority of his belly, however, would not suffer any shirt, looking like rolling dunes of sand. His torso was crowned by a series of chins that couldn’t be hidden beneath his mane anymore, and his sleeves were fraying at the edges as his lard-swaddled arms had ballooned in size with the rest of him. Still, Javid carried himself with as much dignity as he could afford, stifling a belch and the rumblings of his ravenous belly to ask where he might be able to find more- he would kill for just a few more ribs or a nice, thick steak right about now.