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Description
Aldrian, tempted by a magic trinket, begins gaining weight for real and he thinks to himself how could he get so fat.

Aldrian gazed down at his boots. Or rather, he tried to. He sighed softly, then moved to the silvered mirror that stood in the corner of his small domicile at the monastery. Since Aelisaria had come from her world to theirs, he’d spent many more hours at her home, rekindling the friendship he’d shared with Londriel and getting to know the person who had made him the man he was. He’d also enjoyed her fabulous cooking and the camaraderie that bolstered around the dinner table. As with most blood elves, Aldrian had suffered from the sudden withdrawal of arcane magic that ceased flowing once the Sunwell had been destroyed. He’d turned his attention to traveling Azeroth, but had more reason than ever to stay near Silvermoon. Staying near home had fueled a deep, dark inner beast and as Aldrian gazed at his reflection in the mirror, he felt both a sense of guilt and pleasure. With his right hand, he ran his fingers across the groove that was steadily being cut into his flesh.

“By the Sunwell, Aldrian, you are getting fat!” he said to himself.

Indeed, he was getting fat. Ever since Aelisaria had accidentally “thought” him into being fat, something had awakened inside of him that filled him with longing every time he used his talisman to temporarily fatten himself. But now, through subconscious desire or wanton pleasure, Aldrian was starting to pack on the pounds for real.

“Fat, fatty,” he chuckled as he pulled his robe over his head, tugging as the fabric grew taut across his paunch. “You’re going to have to sew yourself another robe sometime soon,” he told his reflection. He studied himself for a time. He could never be called handsome, even if his face hadn’t been pocked by the hawk pox when he was fourteen, or hadn’t been clawed and cleaved by a ghoul when the Scourge had attacked his homeland, or hadn’t damaged his arm so badly that there was nothing left to do but remove the mangled mess. He smiled at himself. He was ugly. Plain and simple, he – Aldrian Morningsky – was downright ugly. But he didn’t mind being ugly. He felt he was the antithesis to the primping, vain nature the Quel’dorei had garnered for centuries.

While he hadn’t intentionally started gaining weight, he rather enjoyed the way the fat felt on his body. He never expected anyone to find him acceptable as a husband – the only one being Aelisaria who had ever really shown him any kind of attraction, and she was married to Londriel and expecting twins. Londriel and Aeli, and her brother, Aristotle had always joked affectionately with Aldrian and had never chastised him for starting to get fat. Now, he guessed he was fat. His belly had gotten soft and started to fold over in the middle where his trousers rested and his face was losing all semblance of sharp angles. Now he was headed over to their place where he would stuff himself and leave feeling completely bloated, but sadly content. He’d given up his hawkstrider and purchased a horse that could bear his more impressive weight. Acorn could have probably withstood the extra sixty pounds, but he didn’t want to take any chances with his aged bird.

He grabbed his belt from the wall and crossed to his bed, laying back on it and fastening the leather strap around his belly. When he was sure the knot would hold, he struggled a little to get back upright and chuckled, rubbing at his tummy. “I’d better weigh again. I think I’ve gained more than sixty pounds.”

Feeling a little guilty, he moved to the scale that stood in the bathroom and stepped on, leaning over to glance down at the numbers. “Three forty?? Yikes!”

Even though he’d gained eighty pounds and knew he should lose it, he just couldn’t bring himself to cut back on his eating or the pleasure his ever-tightening clothing was bringing him.

Description
Aldrian, tempted by a magic trinket, begins gaining weight for real and he thinks to himself how could he get so fat.

Aldrian gazed down at his boots. Or rather, he tried to. He sighed softly, then moved to the silvered mirror that stood in the corner of his small domicile at the monastery. Since Aelisaria had come from her world to theirs, he’d spent many more hours at her home, rekindling the friendship he’d shared with Londriel and getting to know the person who had made him the man he was. He’d also enjoyed her fabulous cooking and the camaraderie that bolstered around the dinner table. As with most blood elves, Aldrian had suffered from the sudden withdrawal of arcane magic that ceased flowing once the Sunwell had been destroyed. He’d turned his attention to traveling Azeroth, but had more reason than ever to stay near Silvermoon. Staying near home had fueled a deep, dark inner beast and as Aldrian gazed at his reflection in the mirror, he felt both a sense of guilt and pleasure. With his right hand, he ran his fingers across the groove that was steadily being cut into his flesh.

“By the Sunwell, Aldrian, you are getting fat!” he said to himself.

Indeed, he was getting fat. Ever since Aelisaria had accidentally “thought” him into being fat, something had awakened inside of him that filled him with longing every time he used his talisman to temporarily fatten himself. But now, through subconscious desire or wanton pleasure, Aldrian was starting to pack on the pounds for real.

“Fat, fatty,” he chuckled as he pulled his robe over his head, tugging as the fabric grew taut across his paunch. “You’re going to have to sew yourself another robe sometime soon,” he told his reflection. He studied himself for a time. He could never be called handsome, even if his face hadn’t been pocked by the hawk pox when he was fourteen, or hadn’t been clawed and cleaved by a ghoul when the Scourge had attacked his homeland, or hadn’t damaged his arm so badly that there was nothing left to do but remove the mangled mess. He smiled at himself. He was ugly. Plain and simple, he – Aldrian Morningsky – was downright ugly. But he didn’t mind being ugly. He felt he was the antithesis to the primping, vain nature the Quel’dorei had garnered for centuries.

While he hadn’t intentionally started gaining weight, he rather enjoyed the way the fat felt on his body. He never expected anyone to find him acceptable as a husband – the only one being Aelisaria who had ever really shown him any kind of attraction, and she was married to Londriel and expecting twins. Londriel and Aeli, and her brother, Aristotle had always joked affectionately with Aldrian and had never chastised him for starting to get fat. Now, he guessed he was fat. His belly had gotten soft and started to fold over in the middle where his trousers rested and his face was losing all semblance of sharp angles. Now he was headed over to their place where he would stuff himself and leave feeling completely bloated, but sadly content. He’d given up his hawkstrider and purchased a horse that could bear his more impressive weight. Acorn could have probably withstood the extra sixty pounds, but he didn’t want to take any chances with his aged bird.

He grabbed his belt from the wall and crossed to his bed, laying back on it and fastening the leather strap around his belly. When he was sure the knot would hold, he struggled a little to get back upright and chuckled, rubbing at his tummy. “I’d better weigh again. I think I’ve gained more than sixty pounds.”

Feeling a little guilty, he moved to the scale that stood in the bathroom and stepped on, leaning over to glance down at the numbers. “Three forty?? Yikes!”

Even though he’d gained eighty pounds and knew he should lose it, he just couldn’t bring himself to cut back on his eating or the pleasure his ever-tightening clothing was bringing him.