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"No...I shall not return! This world shall be mine."

Shadows danced across the walls, flame the only low light in the dank halls of the cell, one of many buried deep beneath the ruins of the Old Kingdom. Bound by chains of silver, the now-occupant of the cell writhed in rage. Blood red skin, with cloven horns, great staglike horns and the wings of a bat marked this being out as a prince of the damned, a lord of the hells.

The three others figures watched the monster's display with little emotion. They were the hard-bitten souls of No...I shall not return! This world shall be mine."

Shadows danced across the walls, flame the only low light in the dank halls of the cell, one of many buried deep beneath the ruins of the Old Kingdom. Bound by chains of silver, the now-occupant of the cell writhed in rage. Blood red skin, with cloven horns, great staglike horns and the wings of a bat marked this being out as a prince of the damned, a lord of the hells.

The three others figures watched the monster's display with little emotion. They were the hard-bitten souls of the great war, the endless war against the night. They had gathered to see their task done, and the protest of their prey would do little to divert their course.

"This world, as do all others who hold the light over the darkness, reject you, creature of depravity, and we condemn you to your native soil." One of the three intoned, the words only causing further rage from their prisoner, such that, even bound by holy relics, the crumbling structure of the ruined keep shook, pebbles pattering down on the cold floor.

As the final words of the spell were invoked, the room came alight with a golden glow, the demon's howls growing ever more desperate as he felt his grip on the mortal plane slipping.

No, he would find a way. Desperately he threw his entire arcane might back against the spell, but even with the full fury of hell behind him, the weight of the banishment was too much, this form would fail him. Instead, he lunged for an escape.

There!

Finally, the welcoming pull of another host, with that, he allowed his hold on his form to fade, and before the final words of the spell could be complete, his tainted soul fled into the dark.

-------

The lairs of evil forces are often portrayed as dark, foreboding and barren places, of spires towering above smoking wastes as far as one can look in any direction. This is a rather hopeful concept in truth, evil is not always easy to detect, nor rare, to be so obvious over the land. It would also be rather inconvenient for those who wished to profit from their dark ways.

The land of Telmonia was a pleasant one, rolling hills, calm forests, quaint villages and a climate that brought good humour. But even under a warm sun and with a nice view, life could still be a misery. Much of the land had fallen under the sway of the Coven, a group of soceresses ruling from a previously abandoned castle and estate. Their origins remained a mystery, but all living within the bounds of their territory paid them homage and tithe. They demanded more than their fair share of gold, treasure, power, sacrifices and, most notably, obscene amounts of food.

The previously carefree rural communities were suddenly forced into tight production, only being left enough for them to survive and remain productive. It was for the memory of what was lost, rather than true fear of death, that so punished these communities. While the Royal Council of Telmonia did nothing, for it was a nation spread thin, they could do nothing but pay their dues.

---

"My my, isn't someone getting rather...grand." Ulara giggled as she examined the target of her remark, a lazy hand tracing fingers across a pale surface, prodding lightly, bring forth a slight movement, a stir within. Her actions were met with a purr of pleasure.

"The Misstress has been most kind of late...most kind indeed." Raela leant back as her companion continued her languid massage. One hand rested atop the imminent curves of her chest, fleshy orbs of pale skin, marked by frekkles and barely contained within a crop top of devilish sorceress fashion. She had been a farming girl once, taken from the villages, and it still showed upon her, light auburn hair, frekkles from the sun and an innocent look that was now only skin deep. While many of those taken from the locals had been slow to adapt, Raela had flourished in her new life. Any child with a hint of magic was taken from the towns controlled by the Coven, most ended up as nothing more than servants, controlled by their bond to the arcane. Those with promise and the drive to do, became members of the Coven themselves. Raela, in a relatively short time, had become the Mistress' pet project, and had reaped the rewards.

"Oh!" Ulara exclaimed as her fingers dented a little further into the turgid bloat of Raela's stomach. It was vast, as if she were pregnant with a whole second person, surely without the aid of her magic she would have found movement ponderous and slow. Reclined as she was, among a mountain of cushions, these matters were of little concern. Her swollen gut responded to the probe by bounding with a lurch, a ripple of motion passing through it, then a growl. The whole ordeal caused Raela to giggle;

"Ooh, they must be hungry." The ex-farm maid chuckled. The inhabitants of her stomach required little in the way of sustenance, but could but fueled by the excess of their inhabitant. Raela, as with all members of the coven, were very much inclined towards excess. "Mhm...so many...maybe one day, I might rival the-" The scheming red head was cut off by the sound of a bell, echoing through the halls of the Coven's keep, Ulara smirked at Raela.

"It seems the Mistress calls, I'll remind you of that, when the sight of her refreshes your memory of her granduer."

-

The main hall had long been set aside for the rituals of both the occult and rule, foul deeds were committed and ancient pacts formed in the same grand chamber that doubled as the Court of the Coven. For now, the recliners that the most prominent members would be seated on were arrayed before low tables. This was the lay out for the public meals the Coven shared, while the court of a King might feast at long tables, the Coven had made certain alterations to these arrangements, to accommodate for the changes they had undergone.

The inner circle of the Coven were the last to arrive, as servants and lesser members, those barely swollen with the gift of their magic, began to attend to the hall. The Handmaidens, each with a recliner to themselves, lay, with great ponderous stomachs, Raella the first among them, but by no great a margin. Some were alien to this land, from far away, taken by the Misstress before the Coven had made their home here, the rest were local 'recruits' from the years of rule.

Following their arrival, the meals were arrayed before them, the oppulant feast drawn from the tribute paid to them by their unwilling subjects. Each dish a sight to behold, and as devoted to pleasure as the Handmaidens were, more than few tensed at the thought of the meal so close at hand, yet not theirs, for now. The ungodly beings that resided within them, dorment and restrained, may have fueld their power, but they also fueled their vice, driving them to new heights of depravity, greed and gluttony, until the line between mortal and demon blurred.

Their wait was not long, before the Mistress herself arrived. The grand doors to her own private quarters swung open. The Mistress herself was an exotic beauty from far away lands, dark tan skin set against mystifying emerald eyes, even before the distortion of her magic she possessed a generous figure, luscious heaving breasts, wide hips and a grand swell of a rear. Each of these had only grown more impressive as the years had gone by. But it was several long moments before any of this could be seen, the Mistress' belly proceeded her entry by a notable degree. Adorned with golden chains, jems and other such vanities, a quartet of servants, each touched with the barest hint of magic, held it aloft through two bands of reinforced silken cloth. As powerful a sorceress as she was, the Mistress could undoubtedly have used her magic to hold her own weight, but she preffered to save her power for more pressing matters, such as maintaining the constant growth of her grand orb of a belly.

The lounger that was prepared for the Mistress was notable larger than the rest, and a second one was position to take the weight of her stomach as she lay down across the former. Even with the most gentle efforts of her sevants, her stomach, siezed by gravity, still struck the second lounger with something of a 'thump' the motion passing through her quivering orb, and, such was its scale, the room as a whole. There was a brief pause before the head of the coven giggled, patting her stomach, then spoke;

"Tonight we prepare for our most ambitious ritual yet, I do so hope you are all ravenous enough to prepare properly." She grinned, before waving one hand, the signal for the feasting to begin.

To describe it as a feeding frenzy would be unfair, to suggest such would insinuate a certain level of motion that, unless roused to serious magical use, the Coven could not match. Instead, food was brought languidly by hand and spell to insatiable mouths, and when food strayed too far out of reach and the thought of spellwork too strenuous, loyal servants fed the sorceresses their choice delicaies, in anything but delicate portions.

Driven on by their own dark desires, and the nascant corruption of their supernaturally full wombs, the Coven consumed in hours what the territory they ruled over might have sustained themselves with for months. Even their corpulent forms strained to contain such excess, and as the night progressed, their pace began to slow....

---

"Ooooh...Gods." Ulara moaned, stroking the rise of her gluttony with one languid hand. As she did so, her belly heaved in digestive strain, as if this most gentle of brushes had upset the mountain which extended from her. Gathered around the room, her fellow Cabal sisters appeared in similar states of glutted ecstacy, combined with distress, their grrandiose forms pushed to their limit.

"Have no power here." The voice of the mistress seemed to rumble through the room, amplified by the great boulder of her belly. Unlike the other women of the Coven, the swell of her stomach did not hang painfully tight before her, even after such great displays of gluttony. While her stomach dwarfed those around her, it retained only it's usual tightness, her depths seemingly without end. "Revel in our power." As she spoke, a ripple papassed through her form, the magic within her awakening, red lights playing just beneath the skin. The same movement and effect passed through each member of the Coven, moans of pleasure and strain ripped from their lips, the joy of their power blending with the corpulent tightness of their greed. "You are ready to work my magic, my loves." The Mistress almost seemed to giggle, as the debris of their feast was clear away, the trappings of magic returning in their place.

With aid from their servants, the sisters of the Coven were ponderously moved from their loungers to kneel in their place around the central ritual circle. Their movements met with heaving groans from their forms, and more than a few moans from their owners, thier minds still shrouded in a mist of gluttonous joy, and fearful strain. The light of the room was dimmed to a few candels, outlines of red, forming ominious runes across the floor between the members of the coven becoming visible, hinting at the dark magics to come. The Mistress lent forwards to better regard the room, one bejeweled hand lazily stroking the bloated flank of her gut as her mind readied for the most strenuous task of their order. As arcane power built in the room, intricate patterns began to show across the surface of her stomach, arcing complex shapes, mirroring those that made up the circle before them, but in even greater number and artisic excellence. Smaller, less complicated patterns began to show across the bare bellies of the other sisters of the Coven, murmers of chanting beginning to whisper from their lips.

The Mistress raised both hands as she spoke the commencing words of power and the slight glow of the runes became a bright glare, the runic circles linking their bodies through the core of their bloated middles. Despite the strain it placed on the less expansive bellies of the lesser members of the Coven, they did not break in their chanting, any slight error would risk the wrath of their Mistress, or worse. They beseeched darker powers, calling to them, promising them Sin and Servitude. Of course, they only planned to grant the former. In the ethereal dimension of demons and other such creatures, the lights of their souls flickered to life. Like fish to that which shined, demonic creatures, great and small, flocked to their siren song, anticipating the easy meal of a mage grown too powerful too quickly, of their soul leeking through to the realm of shadow. Instead, they found a trap.

The chamber was filled with hellish screams as the demons realised their folly, their rage and frustration piercing through into the material realm. To those who served the Coven, those magically attuned individuals who had proven too weak to become true sisters, the howls of the nether-born echoed around the hall, pulling at their magical senses and bleeding in to reality. They knew fear, but the coven sisters themselves knew only the promise of power such screams brang.

The powerful magic of the sisters incapacitated the demonic creatures, binding them into passive forms far from the danger they wished to sow across the mortal realm. Then they were chained, in their greatest of prisons. The Mistress let out a fevered moan as her body shook, the cursed unlife within her straining to taste the magic flowing around them, before more of their kind joined them. Then, after another series of ripples passed through her, she began to swell. Faster than any feasting had ever allowed, her belly crept forwards, inches added in seconds as the grand swell ballooned, more and more of the foul creatures of hell bound within her.

While the other sisters had been filled to almost capacity by the force of their feast, she had a far greater swell to fill, instead relying on her servants to push the limits of their gluttony, for their sin to fuel her power and gain. Now she outstretched them all in gluttonous purpose, but for something even more pleasurable then sustenance, for power. Onwards their magic worked, crushing the will of the denizens of hell and pinning them within the prison of her womb, the walls of her great stomach held intact, both from inward ravaging and overfilling, by the great magical power of the Coven. She lapped greedily at the surge of demons, stuffing them within her, feeling the boon of potential power that each chained creature gave her. In her ecstacy, she fed quickly enough for the source of sin within each of her sisters to gradually break down, the meals crammed within them thinned to sustaine the demons the gave them such power. As they did so, as the skin across their stomachs began to feel less tight and strained, the other sisters began to reach for new prisoners of their own, Ulara and Raela were the first to find the courage to do so, confident their power could allow them to expand in their previously fragile state. Even all combined, the other sisters of the Coven were like scavengers sneaking bites from the carcass of the Mistress' kill. The howls of the unliving filled the night, as their work continued.

------

Hours had passed, and the toll had been great. She marvelled at herself, at the great orb before here that encompassed most of her vision, past the heaving swell of her bosom. Her breath came in exhausted gasps, interrupted only by the purr and moan of her pleasure. The Mistress lazily stroked one hand across what little of herself she could reach, feeling the ebb and flow of magic within her. She giggled in vain, childish wonder at herslef. She had grown so impossible large, so gloriously fat and powerful. She tried to squeeze into her flesh, to grab hold of any of the layer of fat that encompassed her pampered belly, but even that sprang back like rubber, tested to its limit. She purred once more as the stirring of the chained beasts within her. She could feel their new, useless, bodies twitch within her, felt the power that leeched from them course through her veins. It took almost all of her power, all of her will, to hold herself together. Every glorious inch of her, every iota of power, was worth it.

The other, lesser women of the coven were similarly indisposed, first stuffed to the brim with the full extent of their gluttony, then harvested as a font of power for their mistress, even the greatest of them had only been able to harvest a few tainted souls for themselves before risking an untimely end. Of course, this was a thinly veiled approach to maintain the hierarchy of the Coven, but none possessed the power to reach beyond their imposed limits. For now.

Ulara groaned sorrowfully as a tremor passed through her belly. She had been greedy, a little too greedy for her own comfort. The olive skinned beauty presses a hesitant, ring bedecked hand to the quivering flesh of her tummy. The skin was so taught that she felt every bump and rise of the jewellery she wore right in her core. She moaned, the bangles at her wrists and ankles jingling as she lent back, attempting to give herself just an iota more room to stretch. She hiccuped, a consequence of her movement disturbing some of the vast meal still within her. The motion passed through her, a ripple riding the sea of her bloat, passing through to the hills of her breasts and her eyes widened before her belly could respond.

"Oh...crumbs" she muttered, and her belly roared. As per usual she had been in something of a competition with Raela, first to see who could consume the most, and still contain as many new prisoners within themselves as they dared. She had narrowly won, overtaking Raela's previously larger bloat, but had begun to consider that maybe, it was not worth it. Beautifully manicured hands shot to her over ripe belly as it growled its complaint to her, sweat standing out on her forehead as she clung to it. The demons within her tasted the possibility of freedom, as the desperate inmates of any overcrowded prison might, and came alive. Ulara let out a paniced moan as her tummy began to writhe, her usually dark, unmarred skin beginning to flash pink in places as the elasticity of her form began to crumble. She flooded herself with her own magic, trying her best to hold on to what she had built without banishing her demonic brood or splitting in two.

Another whimper escaped her lips as the languid attention of the other exhausted members of the coven realised the danger one of them was in. None leapt to action, each was so utterly stuffed that their own magic was more concerned with securing their own bodies. Ulara let out another cry as her belly tensed all over, the muscles of her bloat rallying for a desperate defense. An elastic groan began to build at her core, like a great ship wreck under the pressure of the ocean. She allowed one terrified sob to pass her lips before suddenly, she felt intense relief.

As an involuntary cry of relief left the exotic beauty's lips, Raela's magic swept through her. Alone of the coven, she had not pushed herself to rupture, with magic to spare, she worked swiftly to save her friend, oftentimes rival, from a destructive end. After a few moments, Ulara finally collapsed backwards into a heaving, panting recline, hands still clutching her belly, but intact. A few moments later at the taut orb began to sink lower, no longer standing on the strained edge of demise. "Ooooh....thank you." She breathed, as loud as she dared, her heaving breasts finally starting to slow as her panting ceased.

"You have stretched yourself too far my dear...you should have learned restraint after so long with us." The voice of the Mistress was full of spiteful pride, while she may entertain the progression of those beneath her, she was sure to keep them in their proper place. They were the fuel to her abilities as much as any demonic soul was. As Ulara moaned, the Mistress watched her with smug satisfaction, drumming her fingers atop her monolithic belly, the baleful eye of her navel, adorned with a grand ruby, glared down at the struggling handmaiden as much as her true eyes did.

"She has leared only by your esteemed example, my lady." Rael brushed a few strands of displaced red hair back behind her ear as she spoke, leaning back as she finished the work of her magic. Her tone was not quite entirely subservient and that drew a raised eyebrow from the ruler of the Coven.

"My power is great, I can surpass my bounds well within comfort, I do not have to rely on such grasping measures to attain my greatness." The Mistress extended her arms before her, flexing herself to bring her chest up pridefully, and to inflate herself a few more scarce inches, her bloat quivering at the motion.

"Is that so?" Raela giggled, a response that drew a frown from her Mistress, before the sun-kissed ex-peasant girl waved a hand through the air, a trace of magic reaching the grand bloat of the Mistress. With the vast majority of her magic working to sustain her new size, and the stupor of luxurious feasting still upon her, the Mistress did not have time to counter the lazy charm, instead, only to feel its surprise effects. With a shudder, her already self-inflated belly leapt forwards a few inches, heaving under her suddenly desperate touch, before contracting as if she was sucking in, muscles across her belly tensing all at once, before relaxing suddenly.

GROOOOOOOOAN

The sound that issued forth from the majestic tummy was not one the members of the coven were comfortable with, a sound which reminded them all too much of binges drawing a little too close for comfort, of bellies fighting to contain the prize that had been forced within them. It was not a kind sound, but it was hardly a rare one either, but scarce of them had ever thought to hear it from the supposedly bottomless well that was the Mistress' swell. She clutched at herself for a moment, waiting for the ripples to cease passing through her, a worried expression across her features as the sudden surge of strain joined with her euphoric feeling of post-indulgence, her senses attempting to rally to defend herself despite the haze her feast, and gathering of power, had left her in. Once she was sure her tummy had survived the playful gesture, her attention turned to Raela, and it was fury.

"You dare!?" Her power unleashed itself from her, dark tendrils forming from the shadows, the demonic forces within her harnessed for their power, controlling reality itself. The servants of the Coven were forced into fearful silence, as the over-glutted members of the magi themselves steeled themselves for their Mistresses' wrath. "What state of over-filled stupor must you be in to think such an action was wise?" Her anger cooled as her nervousness disappeared. She was never in any danger, just a stupid girl playing with powers she had been uplifted to. She was the Mistress of the Coven, her grand bloat was as unsailable as any great fortress. Cool, but it did not fade, as the tendrils of shadow wrapped around Raela, lifting the girl, despite her not unimpressive bulk, gradually off the ground. The girl panted nervously at the display, barely moving beneath the attentions of the demonic tendrils. She may not have been as overstuffed as her colleagues, but she was still vulnerable to the force of magic the Mistress could call at a whim. All things were.

"I suppose you must be repaid in turn." The Mistress spoke with a shark-like grin, slowly tunring her hand. Like a vice.

Raela gasped as the tendrils began to squeeze, part out of fear, part involuntary as the air was forced out of her, the easiest of the many things crammed within her for her body to expell in desperation, to create more give as the round swell of her belly caught in the grip of magic. Despite the unbalance of power, the lesser mage sort to defend herself, in some way, her belly writhing as power was drawn from the demons in her womb, strengthening the walls of her belly, even as they were pinched closer together.

"Mistress please....a jest." She managed in a squeak of a voice, her hands pawing at her flanks, the only place she could reach the inky darkness of the tendrils, the face of her belly well out of reach, where her frekled skin was beginning to turn a worrying pink. 'Restraint' by the standards of the Coven was still gluttonous beyond the limits of most, and her unaturally expanded form did not agree with the sudden added pressure, already beginning to rebel its limits.

"I do not take lightly to jest that-" The Mistress' cool, but callous demeanour was cut off by another loud groan from her middle, this time something that could not be blamed on the actions of her rebellious target. She patted her gut with affection, hushing it as one might a child, before she turned her eyes back on Raela. She had only done so for a moment before a more powerful lurch rippled across the swell, ripping a pained "Oooh." From the leader of the Coven, before her eyes widened slightly in realisation. She had required the bulk of her magic to sustain her after feasting so greatly, her little display of power had refocused some of her magic and now the walls of her body had grown weaker. She moaned slightly, releasing Raela from the clutches of her spell, who fell uncremonsiouly back upon her divan of cushion, her previously squeezed stomach letting out a less omnious groan as she landed, unhappy to be jostled, but celebratory to be free of the added pressure upon it. The Mistress was too focused on her own belly, recasting the wards which held her together.

It was then that a far greater mistake was revealed. The Coven had grown used to their superiority over the Nightmare realm, and so when their casting was completed, they had neglected to fully seal the portals within them that lured their demonic prey. This would not usually have escaped notice, but as a whole they were glutted beyond sense. Equally, no demon had ever sought to force their way within them once their feasting and ensaring had been completed, why would they? To be chained to the mortal realm in such a manner was only a fresh torment.

None until now.

The Mistress gasped as suddenly her belly lurched. It was not akin to the usual signs of overfeeding or ensaring that many were used to, instead, her belly moved as if with a life of its own. For beings with perpetually full wombs, it was a surprisingly uncommon event for a member of the Coven, only when an apprentice did not have the power or will to fully restrain their first few prisoners might this occur, but never to one of them more accomplished, let alone the Mistress.

She gave a paniced wine as her belly lurched again, and again, her eyes flicking across it's surface as she tried to imagine what might be happening to her. It was then that she reached out with her magic, and gasped again in shock. There, in the portal within her womb, a long claw was pulling a greater form into her, among the docile, enslaved demonhosts within her, something far greater was pushing in, escaping her notice until now. For a moment she continued to panic, as she felt herself stretch even larger. But a fraction of this new demon had entered her, but she was so packed with food and demonic false-offspring, that any added inhabitants was enough to push her larger. For once, this was not what she wished.

She attempted to seal the portal within her, hopefully trapping whatever monster seemed to long for imprisonment within in the demonic realm, but that was no little incantation, and drawing such power away from maintaining her form would be folly. She bit her lip with worry as she was instead forced to ride it out. The Mistress gasped again as she felt the demon push further into her, her magnificent belly bounding and shaking as it did so, as if her vast brood had somehow been spurned to life. The fine silks and jewels which adorned her wafted and jangled at the motion, these fine things that she so adored far from her mind as she clutched her greatest, and largest, prize. The others in the room, both sister of the Coven and servants, began to suspect something was truly quite wrong, shuffling away from the troubled bloat attached to their leader.

"M..More....I need more power." The Mistress whispered under her breath, another painful jostle of her middle leapt her to action. She would need to strengthen her reserves if she was to survive. The circle of power which bound her to her underlings would save her. As greedily as she had chained new demons to her womb, she drew in power from the other sisters, each gasping in turn as they felt their Mistress pull on their power, so recently after lending their own to her ritual. While most relied on their magic to keep them together less so than the grandest of their number, each had a form that no natural woman could maintain, and so it was not long before their middles once again felt nervously tight, without the full extent of their magical reserve to support them.

The Mistress cared not for the discomfort of her underlings, she drew in their power, grasping the magic created by the demonic pacts each had made to strengthen the surface of her tummy as it bounced and grew, each push from the demon manifesting within her adding inches at a time to her already monstrous girth. At first each spurt was painful, but now, sucking on the magic of her underlings, she could grow more easily. Her worried frown became a smirk of victory. Whatever the beast inside her had wished to do, it would end up trapped within her as all the rest, her new greatest prize, and it had come straight to her.

Despite her new found confidence, the Mistress growth still carried on in aggressive spurts, rather than the gradual growth she was used to, as more of the demon entered her, she swelled with unusual active foul life. Her hands still clutched at her gluted middle, stroking her skin as her belly groaned as it heaved. It pushed forwards, then grew rounder, sitting heavier and heavier on the ground before her, until it started to push back against even her, forcing her to recline further. The divan upon which she sat groaned under her new weight, the floor not taking enough of her to protect the tortured furniture. After a few more minutes of this torment, their was an earsplitting creak, and the lounger gave way. The Mistress gasped as her large buttocks struck the ground, although the wobble that passed through her rear and meaty thighs was nothing next to the ripples that shook her stomach. Now, lower down, she felt the weight of it press on her, and she groaned along with her belly. Eventually, the creature, whatever it was, forced itself through in full, waiting silently in her womb.

She panted for some moments, pushed back by her swell so that she could hardly see over it, her foreign skin shiny from its stretch, yet still free of the marks of growth, such was the power of her magic, now that she had stolen what she could from her lesser sisters. They too stirred and groaned, but she paid them no heed, she was utterly obsessed with the view infront of her.

"I...I'm so big....look at me." She purred in a mixture of exhuastion and delight, stroking lazy circle over her belly, leaning down to plant a kiss on her own swollen tummy, even if the motion caused it to moan back at her in protest. She laughed at this turn of events, in awe of her own victory. With callous ease, she focused what magic she could on binding this new demonic entitiy within her with the same rituals that had trapped so many, lesser creatures to the prison of her womb.

The first elements of the spell came into play, she felt the beast stir as the physical bonds that trapped the ungodly spawn of her womb to their prison wrapped around it, then her magic moved in to pacify it's mind.

Suddenly, her mind was struck by a vast wave of power, a whimper escaping her lips. Visions forced their way into her mind, oceans of brimstone, worlds burning in the heat of sin and desire, the tortured wails of a thousand souls. At the centre of them all was one figure, a titan of destruction. Dark wings unfurled from his back, and it stared back at her with unflinching eyes of hatred, before all was drowned out in its infernal roar. She snapped awake, panting, sweat stood out across her skin, and with terrified eyes she regarded her own swell. No longer with vanity, but with the purest fear.

He was inside her.

A Prince of the Demonic Hells.

She let out a brief sob, and he sensed her weakness.

He fought back against her spells, the first of her bounds keeping him in place broke, before she turned her own will against him. He may have been a lord of demons, but she was the Mistress of the Coven, and she would teach him that demonkind were her tools to use. Equally, while her magic may sustain her size, she very much doubted her belly would survive his attentions were he to become fully free within her. She pushed such fatalist thoughts to the back of her mind, this was a battle of will, she would have no hope if she considered such things.

She was stretched so thin, however, that she could not afford to divert any of her magic away from sustaining her vast bulk, instead drawing more on her fellow sisters of the coven, leeching their magic through their bond to fuel her ability to enslave the vast demon within her. He roared in her mind, causing her to tremble in reality, but for now, he was subdued. Each time he flexed his great might, both physically and mentally, she needed to draw more magic into her, fighting him at every turn, but it was a battle she was slowly starting to win.

"Mistress...please."

She ignored the moans, the petty whims of those beneath her did not matter in the slightest next to the battle being waged within her, not when she was so close to victory.

The scream filled the air, although she did not pay it heed. It was only when the consequence passed through the room that her attention turning away from her own survival. The sisters of the coven too required their magic to sustain their size, even if lesser than hers. She had taken too much.

With an elastic squeal, the first belly gave way. Drained of the magic which held the bloated orb together, the skin of the lesser sorceresses belly was simply not able to sretch around her fecund womb and over stuffed belly. She burst, and she was not the first. Several concussive bangs echoed through the hall, the shockwave passing through the bellies of those not similarly fated, resounding another series of worrying groans. The Mistress clutched her belly as it rocked from the movement, squirming beneath her grasp, her teeth set on edge, before she gasped in despair. As those around her perished, she could feel their magic fading away. The circle was broken, and with it, the source of her new power.

"No...No...No!" She pleaded, willing it to not be true, let down by lesser magi than herself, she wrestled with the monster within her, trying with what magic she had left. She attempted to draw more from those who remained but with the complex web of the ritual broken, she was unable to, not without recasting the runes. With a cry, she unleashed the full might of her magic upon the demon within her, crushing his will beneath waves of power.

All was still for a moment, she panted, bedecked hands still clutching her precious tummy, feeling the surface churn. The baubels and charms that hung from her and her clothing tingled gently.

GRRROOOOOOOAN

It was too much. In her desperation she had reached for the magic that sustained her, and drawing even a fraction from that which kept her together was her death knell. She was just too swollen, too stuffed, her brood too large for her belly to hold itself together. She wailed as in the next moment red lines began to criss cross her belly, her skin suddenly feeling impossibly tight, like paper stretched over a flame.

"No....I must....hold." She choked through the tears and pain, trying to undo the damage with what little magic she had left, simply a barrier around her, to hold her in. That would work.

She had not finished casting before her belly shook, the elastic tight skin having no room to stretch. She clenched her teeth, and finished the spell. Her cry of relief was cut short by a talon erupting from her navel, the eye of her belly, stretched almost to a smudge, punctured by a talon. Without her focus, the demon within her was free. She gazed, dumbfounded, at the new adornment of her belly, before with a crack of pressure and hellfire, her belly exploded.

The remaining sisters looked on in fear as the demons which tumbled from the spent bellies of their Mistress and fellow sisters began to awaken, small impish creatures, most of them, groggily awakening from their imprisonment. But not the Demonic Prince at the centre, standing from the ruin of their Mistress. He surveyed those around him, before speaking a single command.

"Feast."

The imps awoke, turning their gleeful eyes upon the remaining sisters.

Those that could stand did, attempting to flee despite the great burdens of their bellies. All thoughts of sisterly bond forgotten, they scrambled away.

"You....You'll never out run them." Ulara gasped as she clutched at the hem of another Sister's rob, slightly less bloated than her, she had stood and begun to move, Ulara only able to drag herself beneath the weight of her monstrous bloat.

"No....I only need to out run you." The frantic woman hissed, before prying Ulara's hands from her, the bloated sorceress collapsing back to the ground, a loud 'ooof' forced out of her lips as her belly jostled atop her. Her hands clutched to it. Even with time to digest from the feast, she was still so enourmously stuffed and over taxed from magic, each beath felt like it might rupture her. She gasped as she felt tiny pinpricks across her belly, a series to tiny weights clambering up her flanks. Her tummy groaned. It had almost rebellled against the treatment of containing her, the added weight, however small, of her new, external occupants, was not a welcome change.

Ulara kept herself from breathing, her lungs burning as she watched the imps find their shaky footing atop her. Her belly quivered, each tiny step felt like the one to push her over the edge. One imp caught her eye and grinned. In it's hand, a tiny dagger, poised just above her navel. Inches away from the taught, tanned skin.

Ulara shook her head desperately, wordlessly pleading with the demon. Don't let this be her end. Punctured by a creature so insignificant.

"Enough." The voice was familiar but not, not that it mattered to Ulara, the sigh of relief she allowed only followed by a hopeless groan from herself and her belly, followed by several more as the imps scattered off her, each bound rippling through her. Ulara craned her neck once she had recovered, looking to the voice that had saved her.

There was Raela, but not her. Resplendent in half demonic glory, her frame was the same, although she stood, impossibly. Her extremities had turned to scale, clawed hands traced languid circles over her own belly, and great horns extended from her forehead. She looked almost the image of the monster that had burst from the Mistress. Confusion passed over Ulara features, before the creature that had been her friend's gaze settled on her, and she gulped in fear.

"I have my own plans for this one."

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