Frightening Fanfiction Fridays: Fattest Dungeon

It's another spooky tale, my pretties. This time inspired by Red Hook Studio's Darkest Dungeon.

I've posted this story elsewhere in the past, using it as a fundraiser reward. Given its darker subject matter and grisly setting, I thought it would be a perfect fit for the Halloween season.

Be warned, however. This story contains the following mature content:

• Extreme weight gain

• Minor slob elements

• Health Issues

• Risk of Heart Attack

• Madness/Insanity

Here's a preview for you all, free of all of the above elements...though it is a grim portent of what is to come~

Ruin has come to my family.

I remember the words of my aunt, opulent and imperial as she was, much like her venerable house that gazed proudly from its stoic perch above the moor. She said to me: “Decadence and luxury, my dear nephew, nothing ensnares the senses of honest women quite like it. A happy woman is one that’s fattened by it”. I remember her words still.

When I received her letter, bidding me return home under unusual circumstances, I thought it the odd request of an eccentric relation. To my horror, I returned home to find that she’d died…and left the manor to me. I was now steward to not just a house, but a community in the village below…and the festering abomination beneath our feet.

Singular, unsettling tales suggested the mansion itself was a gateway to some fabulous and unnameable power. But madness followed whoever sought it. So with relic and ritual I bent every effort towards the excavation and recovery of those long buried secrets, exhausting a goodly portion of my aunt’s fortune on swarthy workmen and sturdy shovels.

At last in the salt soaked crags beneath the lowest foundations we unearthed that damnable portal of antediluvian evil. Our every step unsettled the ancient earth but we were in a realm of death and madness. The men and women alongside me…met terrible fates. Those who survived were utterly broken, driven to smother their pain with fattening food and life-sapping drink. In the end I couldn’t bring myself to go back down there.

All I can do is pay women and men of valor and curious strength to delve into the maddening depths…then nurse their ravaged minds with feasts and earthly pleasures upon their return. I watch them grow fat and sickly with each passing day, but I can’t in good conscience stop them. They are my responsibility; the birthright I’ve so foolishly claimed.

For I too know the horrors below. I know how they gnaw and bite at the senses. ‘Nothing ensnares the senses of honest women quite like decadence and luxury. A happy woman is one that’s fattened by it’.

How could I deny them this in their sorrow and pain? I too survived the ravenous, clutching shadows…of the Darkest Dungeon.

-From the diary of the hamlet’s steward