Octummber 19th: Juice

Rouge stood at the marble-top dry bar fixing a cocktail. Three parts bourbon, one part sherry, two parts orange juice. She collected her highball glass and sauntered to her living room.

She had upgraded most of her clothes to cover her escalating adipose. Her evening robe, however, was a different story. She saw no need to cover her body in her own home. And so, as she walked, her enormous breasts rocked. They sat on her belly, heavy and round, as wide as her plump shoulders. Her belly jiggled, subservient to the breasts that weighed down on it. Its top half was obscured by her overflowing bust. Only her spare tire proudly showed itself, hanging around her waist and bulging over her pelvis. Her robe made no pretense of covering any of this, instead content to cover her flabby arms and rest along the outward curve of her sides. Her hips were meaty, stocked thick with ample adipose. Her robe draped off of its sides and off of her bulbous ass, two heaving globes of pudding that made her gait pendulous. Tremendous thighs filled out her legs as well. They began to force her to sweep legs around each other, meaning her pudgy feet travelled sideways just to maneuver her legs forward. Her dainty, overreplete thigh fat massaged itself at the center of her obese stride.

Over the past two weeks and change, Rouge had felt power from the Master Emerald. She wondered if there was a way to take in this power, to make it part of herself. To that end, she had infused the orange juice in her hand with the Master Emerald. A fragment had sat in her carton of orange juice for a day. Now, at worst, she would enjoy a nice evening cocktail. At best, she would experience something revelatory.

She lowered her corpulent butt in a well-padded recliner. Her hips were but inches from the armrests. Sitting, her belly pushed out over most of her lap, although not all of it. Her breasts splayed wide over her gut. She felt heavy, soft, tender.

She took a drink of the cocktail. Refreshing and cool, she felt it flow through her throat and down into her stomach. Just a few moments later, cool waves emanated from her midsection. It was a kind of pleasure. The way it spread felt orgasmic, strangely. But better than that.

The sensation compelled Rouge to continue. She drained the glass down her gullet and set it aside on the table. And soon, that sensation built up strength. Calm, easy waves of pleasure gave way to overpowering tidal waves of euphoria. Rouge clutched the armrests to stabilize herself as a cooling feeling of rapture pumped out from her stomach into her legs, her toes, her arms, her breasts, her head, and everywhere else. She moaned in pleasure.

She didn't realize at first that her fur was turning orange. She also overlooked a tightness in her middle. Her stomach inched outward, filling her lap, spreading broad over her thighs, and inflating upwards into her breasts. It was preparing to shove aside the boobs that had overshadowed it for so long.

But it was her breasts that first alerted her to her predicament. She saw them rise, and she put a hand to her middle. Its pudgy shape had morphed into a ball with no contours or folds; there was only a smooth, round surface. Her breasts also looked strangely bright, a brilliant shade of orange. Her tits had always been pert, but now they looked positively like balloons. They didn't spread their fat over her middle. Instead, they teetered, bulging outward and taut. She wrapped her arms around their growing surfaces and felt that even her nipples were filled tight.

Her waist bloated wide into the arms of the chair, and her hips kept apace. But it wasn't the doughy breadth that she had been fostering on her haunches. No, her hips felt stretched and rubbery. Her thighs expanded likewise, puffing full and stiff. When they were fat, it was easy to smoosh them together. Now, they were inflated firm, and they pushed hard against each other and the arms of the chair.

Even her back was no exception. Pudge had lined her shoulders, but now that soft, cushy layer had blown outwards in a dome-like arc. Her lovehandles joined, giving the dome a wide base over her growing ass. Her butt had started as gelatinous and tubby. Now, it was pumped full, blimping bigger and more rigid.

In fact, her inflating back and butt pushed her hips above the arms of the chair. She tried to move her arms to reach the chair below her, but they only budged a short distance. Her hands were puffy; her forearms were tight spheres; and her biceps were wide, juice-saturated cushions, too broad and too firm to move. Their breadth was so large that their upper edges approached her face, itself flushed with bloating juice under her chin and over her cheeks.

Her thighs were now so voluminous that her legs stuck out straight, unable to allow any bend at her knees or butt. They were wider than the arms of the chair by a fair margin. Her waist blimped just as wide, matching her legs in sweeping, arcing inflation. Her back curved outward, puffing up around her neck and then billowing outward down her body with globular curvature. That traced down to her ass. It was still the widest thing on her, but the blubber of her cheeks was spread thin across a vast, elastic backside. Her legs tapered inward like a ball, starting with chair-wide thighs, tapering inward with stiff calves that were a fraction of the width, and ending in two petite, but puffy, feet.

Her stomach, meanwhile, had grown the most. It sloshed full of juice, rising up over her middle like a dome, curving back down as its lower edge pressed into her knees. It covered her mound, which was just as inflated and stiff, almost forcing her lower lips open by the curve of their bloat. Her breasts were equally firm, and they jut out above the uniform arc of her middle.

She was now propped up out of her chair. She leaned back into it, although her butt straddled its arms. She tried to look down to observe herself, but her chin was locked in tight by her juice-filled second chin.

Rouge appeared like a giant ball resting against--not in--the chair. And someone had put bat wings and bat ears on the ball.

She gurgled and sloshed. Pleasure rocked around inside her filled arms, her brimming belly, her gorged tits, her saturated ass, her packed legs, and her bursting mons.

She knew this was a mistake, but it didn't feel like one.