U LITERATURE [USSBBW, Health Issues, Immobility] Nec-Romancer Deviation Actions In Favourites Comment by Cirque-de-Kink WatchPublished: Nov 4, 2021 204 Favourites 5 Comments 26.6K Views Literature Text [2nd Person. Necromancer reader and immobile elf paladin. Immobility, health issues, mild slob, oral sex, death-and-revival.] It’s amazing what you can get used to. Working in a draughty tower that can’t decide whether it wants to freeze you to death or burn you alive, depending on the weather? Doesn’t even faze you anymore. Trudging through scores of empty ale bottles and picked-clean bones just to get to your study? You’ve mastered the art of skirting around and through ‘em. Seldom having a moment of silence, because your lover and feedee is usually either gasping and wheezing as though she had just run a marathon, or noisily stuffing her face and belching up a storm in the next room? Hell, that helps you concentrate nowadays. Of course, you kind of brought the latter two upon yourself when you courted your once-graceful companion, the noble Lady Esthwen; it started as an intimate little assignation between the two of you, a virtuous paladin and a fledgling necromancer. As time went on, you spent more time sleeping with her and pampering her with the finest food your questing could pay for (which varied quite a bit, but it’s the thought that counts) than actually embarking on adventures together. As months passed, both of you realised just how… impractical it was becoming, for the elven paladin to travel around and fight monsters. Her formerly brisk march had given way to an awkward, shuffling waddle, and she barely had the strength to even haul herself around the village, never mind trek across the land in full platemail with a sword and shield. That is, if she didn’t outgrow her armour on a regular basis, the adjustments to which ate into your earnings like she ate… well, anything you put in front of her. Suffice it to say, when you proposed settling down together in a cozy little enchanter’s tower, the fair lady was all too happy to take you up on your offer, paladin’s oath be damned. It wasn’t like she was the picture of virtue anyway, being an unabashed glutton (and while you’d never tell a soul, she can be downright insatiable in the bedroom). That was just a formality; from a life of knightly heroics, to one of being spoiled rotten by you. “Nnh… d-dahrling… c-couhld yooouh…” You perked up as you heard your lover’s breathless, husky contralto tones from the adjoining room, and you set your grimoire down upon the desk; she paused, gasping and sucking down uneven lungfuls of air as she tried to carry on. “Cohme… heeeere? It’sh… mnf, uhrgent.” Despite her words, you didn’t exactly rush to the bedroom where she spent her days; you love her dearly, but she had a rather… skewed perspective of what was ‘urgent’. If any of the myriad plates and platters in her room were empty, that was apparently an urgent matter. If she was feeling frisky, and wanted something more intimate than the magickally-actuated vibrators you had crafted for her, that was urgent. You loved spoiling her - she wouldn’t be a wyvern-sized mockery of an elf if you didn’t - but years of immobility and decadence had given her some odd priorities. As you strolled into your chambers, you were greeted with a familiar miasma of scents; still-hot grease and fat from the cooked meats you had brought her, spices, sweat and other… intimate fluids that thickened the air and permeated every surface in the room. Everything is as you expected it to be; a stack of silver platters - you had sunk plenty of sleepless nights into perfecting the enchantments to make self-stacking plates - flanking the king-sized bed that occupied the centre of your room, and your whalish sweetheart atop it. Her broad, sweat-dappled hips sagged over the edges of the mattress, the once-vibrant sheets beneath her darkened and greyed thanks to years of wear; her rotund, useless feet poked out from beneath the swell of her belly apron that encroached more and more of the bed with each day, her ankles marked by a thick fold where flabby calves met equally fat feet. Despite years of eating and only minutes of exercise (if that), Esthwen’s bust was no less ample and decadently soft; they had lost much of their perkiness and shape, instead looking like two massive saddlebags of fat that framed the upper hemisphere of her globular gut, her nipples well out of her reach. You never checked, but you were adamant that each fat, sagging udder probably had more weight in it than most people would ever carry in their torsos. It’s only as your gaze trails towards her face, nestled amid innumerable chins and bunched up rolls of back fat that ringed her visage, that you realise something might actually be wrong. Her plump lips were fixed in a grimace, her teeth bared and her golden eyes narrowed. You moved more briskly, standing beside her and taking her hand in your own, your fingers sinking into her pillowy palm as you soothingly stroke her porcine forearm. “It’sh…. M-muh heeahrt…” She mewled, looking up at you pleadingly. “Do…. shomefing!” You had half-expected this day to come - it was inevitable with how much abuse you two were putting her body through. Humans were ill-equipped to handle such weight and so little activity; elves, being as lithe and graceful as they were, were even less capable at dealing with such a degree of morbid obesity. You assumed, anyway. Then again, physiological differences didn’t really mean shit when you’d been feeding her enough fattening slop to stop a troll’s heart. You shook your head solemnly, and reminded her that while you’d love to help her, that wasn’t in your wheelhouse. You were a necromancer, your magicks don’t do a lot for people who aren’t actually dead yet. “B-Buh… pleashe!” She demands, brow furrowing as, with an alarming degree of speed, her pudgy hand slips from your grasp, grabbing the collar of your robes. “Doo... nnh, anythiiihng, ah’m d-dyiiihng!” Right then, it clicked for you; she was dying. And once she was dead, you could help! ...for a moment it dawns on you, briefly, that such a sentiment would be galling for those who didn’t violate the laws of life and death with alarming regularity. You slip out of her grip with ease, positioning yourself at the foot of her bed. “Wh-Whaht’re you… hff, doin’?” Esthwen asked you, her jaw hanging slack as she watched you disrobe (as slack as it could be, anyway, when it was bolstered by thick rolls of neck fat). “A-Aahre yoouh sherioush?! Nooowh’sh… ah, n-noht th’ tiihme for thish!” As you positioned yourself between her legs, arms shaking a tad as you heft her belly apron up out of the way, you don’t give her a straight answer; instead, you just insist that she trust you, lie back, and try to relax. Amidst her usual laboured huffing, you heard her give a long-suffering sigh, and she rolls her eyes as you vanish from view, letting her immense gut rest upon your back as you make your way between her legs, blindly feeling along her thighs. “Y-Yooouh…. A-ah!... better knoohw what youh’re doin’.” Esthwen grumbled, her voice tinged with trepidation. A sensible reaction really; you doubt you’d be happy, being on the verge of death with your partner about to service you. But, as far as you could tell, this was the best way to stop her heart: by making it race. It didn’t take you long for you to find your prize; your fingers trailed across a soft pad of fat, running through a patch of dark pubic hair and trailing down to Esthwen’s womanhood; even under hundreds of pounds of fat, you felt her hips rock gently as you touch her, her moans growing a touch louder, an octave higher. It didn’t matter how big she got, you loved hearing her moan. Making her moan. Worshipping her body like she deserved, even when you’d fattened her to the precipice of death. Your free hand glided along her thigh, and you sink your fingers into one of her leg rolls, squeezing it gently as you alternated between teasing around her cunt, and caressing the ample pad of pubic fat situated above it; that fupa of hers was easily larger than your head, enough for your hand to sink into. An action which, judging by her quivering, breathless whines, your elephantine elf seemed to enjoy. “M-My… ooh, chesht shtiiihl… huuurtsh…” Despite her complaints, there was less panic in her voice; it was less a demand for help, and more a simple statement of fact. You were pleasuring her, her heart felt like it was going to burst, she was too big to really do anything about either of those things. Eventually, you move your hand away from her damp cunt, massaging her other thigh as you lower your head down, your lips brushing against hers. You lingered there, briefly, enough for her to feel your warm breath against her entrance, and for you to drink in her musk. The room stunk of sweat and sex, but there it was so much more concentrated. Slowly, you pressed your lips against her buried pussy, planting firm, intimate kisses along her vulva, only stopping to slowly work your tongue along her slit, savouring her taste. “L-Love?” Esthwen sputtered out, and you felt her enormous thighs press against your shoulders, keeping you pinned down there between two tree-trunk like slabs of pallid lard as she spoke. Even under all that flab, after all those years of indulgence, there was some semblance of that knightly strength. “Ah’m… g-gehttin’ lightheeeaded…” You didn’t let up, of course. You couldn’t. Not just because you needed to push her body past the point of no return, but because by that point, you were determined to get her off. It was like a game, seeing if you could make your elven blob cum before her heart packed up. An impassioned growl passed your lips, and you pushed your tongue into her slick folds, your nose pressed against the yielding warmth of her fupa as you felt inside of her cunt. Every bump, every fold, every spasm and every twitch, you traced with your tongue, listening for the ululations in her voice, the hitching in her breath. Any motion that made her entire body slosh and wobble as she tried to buck her hips against you, you kept at. “Ohh goohdsh… ah…” Her voice was faint, almost indistinct from where you were, but you could just about hear her. “G-Gooohnna… c-cum…” No sooner does she let you know, than you felt her legs compress your body, your arms pinned to your sides as she ground against your face needily, her erratic breaths growing shorter, sharper as she finally reached her climax; her flabby legs rub against your body, and the walls of her cunt spasm and tense around your tongue. Like a great ripple travelling across her body, you felt her obese form shudder and jiggle in the wake of her climax. Satisfied, you slowly withdrew yourself from the cavernous depths that was the space between her legs, your body sticky with sweat, yours and hers. Panting softly, once you were back in the relatively fresh air of your room, you splayed out across her belly apron, sinking into it and watching the rise and fall of her chest, growing slower, shallower. You both lay there, still for a few minutes, until finally, she went limp, too spent to really form a proper sentence, or anything more than inchoate moans and gasps. With a roll of your eyes, you prised yourself off of her expansive gut, throwing your robes back on before resting your hands upon her chest. Your eyes lulled shut, and you felt energy course through your extremities, your nerves burning and tingling as you forcibly jumpstarted your lover’s heart. It took a few attempts - each more potent than the last - before your magicks finally penetrated the thick layer of blubber that insulated her body. But underneath it all, you could feel it, the faint flicker of life, the irregular rhythm of her pulse coming back once more. Her eyes shot open, and she drew in a mouthful of air, coughing as consciousness returned to her. “Wh… y-yooouh…” Esthwen murmured, glaring daggers at you. “Yoouh coulda… t-told me you wehre doin’ thaaaht.” You shrugged, having figured it’d be more fun to surprise her; you took her flabby hand, lifting it to your lips and planting a soft smooch on it, before enquiring how she was feeling. “H-Heeahrt shtill feels liiike it’sh gonna… b-bursht.” She huffed, taking a deep breath as she struggled to even out her breathing. You had figured as much; just because you brought her back into the realm of the living doesn’t mean all her problems would be solved. You weren’t a healer, after all, and you doubted that even the most gifted clerics or mages would be able to address the myriad of issues going on in her chest. She flashes you a little smirk though. “Buuht… ah wouldn’t… nnh, m-mind doin’ thaaht agaihn.”