A Kitsune's Tribute Part 2 (Patreon)

An infection among other things has kept me off my feet for most of this month. But yesterday I was able to whip something up that I hope you will all like. Please let me know if you do <3

The following story is set in the world of Lifestyle Changes - a small series which you can find here:  https://www.patreon.com/posts/14449330 

It was elaborated on in a longer, more complete story by the talented VictorTheMaker here:  https://www.furaffinity.net/view/28062524/ 

It features a girl who accepted a job at a temple, only to be surprised at the changes that would come with temple life, and her own reactions to said changes. It could be described as a sequel, though I'm not sure if I want to make it canon. Probably! 

- - - 

My first week in the temple I had eaten an ungodly amount of food. I blushed just thinking about it, and the weight that I had carried months afterward. Images of my bloated, jiggling body, bursting out of my maiden’s uniform as I mopped the floors or dusted the shrines slid through my mind as I sat on my bed, looking at the offering box before me. Apparently a local baker by the name of Victor had been particularly zealous about their offerings, which comprised of half the box. The box itself was large enough to feed a family for a week and I, Endra said, was supposed to consume its contents within a day! 

I would be reliving my first few nights in the temple, it seemed. But I was up to the task. If it meant granting fortune to others, and maintaining the good name of our temple, there was nothing else that could be done. 

Still, I blushed as I reached for the first offering, an inoffensive cupcake with strawberry frosting. I turned it slowly in my hand before pushing it gently towards my fanged mouth. As the icing hit my tongue I blinked in surprise, a moan involuntarily pushed up my throat. The flavour! I had been eating well since I started living here but this was unlike any of the temple’s food. So sugary and bold, it struck me like a physical force, before I pushed the rest of it greedily into my mouth, wanting to consume the whole thing. I chewed messily, crumbs scattering on my breasts and swallowed the mushy payload, my hands already reaching for the next item. 

A donut, home made and lovingly glazed, I hoped the flavour would be as strong as the last treat and I was not disappointed. Along with the chocolate of the glaze I tasted the fat and butter soaked dough beneath. Things that would have usually turned me off of such food suddenly felt like a delightful accompaniment. I could practically see the effect that every calorie would have on my waistline, on my thighs and breasts, and I blushed with the thought of it. I wanted more. 

A pie was next, and though I wanted with everything I was to simply push my muzzle into the pastry’s top and devour what I could with my snapping jaws, I held myself back. This food was made with love and devotion, the least I could do was make sure half of it didn’t end up down my front. I carefully held the pie, biting piece after piece of it away, carefully slurping up the sugary blueberry goop within. My stomach gurgled and groaned. While sitting, it had previously rolled up into two distinct, blubbery rolls. Now, it was puffed out and smooth as a balloon, inflating with every bite. With every mouthful I swallowed, my stomach inflated a little more, ignored by me for the moment as I reached forward to grab snack after snack. 

I quickly began to lose any sense of time, or the fullness that had previously been on the back of my mind, the only thing that mattered was the next piece of food in front of me. The next piece of cake, the next muffin, the next donut. Whoever this baker, Victor, was, he was some kind of culinary genius. But it wasn’t just his work that pulled me into a stupor. Even the candy bars that had been donated seemed to taste better pulled from this decorated gold trimmed box than they did from the store. 

And with every bite, I grew. At first it was just my stomach, the organ inflating like a balloon in front of me, I quickly began to look pregnant with triplets. My gut pushed my legs apart, stuffed and taut like a drum. But whatever magic had kept me from popping those first days worked itself across my stretched hide and soon it began to soften and deflate. As it did so, a plush, heavy softness began to spread across other parts of my body.

I felt, but did not acknowledge, my thighs gently spreading out across the sheets. My body began to sink into the mattress a little more, though I was not worried, it was as sturdy as it was comfortable. Had I noticed, I might have been happy to see some growth around my breasts, which I always considered rather small. But I did not notice.

I did not notice as my stomach, the inflating water balloon that it was, began to sag between and over my legs, reaching down slowly towards the ground. I did not notice the way it pushed against the tribute box more and more, especially as I began to have to lean forward to dig around for new treats. I did not notice the massive rolls of blubber that were forming around my sides and had consumed my back as I sat down, nor did I notice the extra plushness to my cheeks. 

I did not notice these things, until the box was nearly empty, and then I did. Like a wave crashing against me I suddenly felt the exhaustion that had been buried beneath the euphoria of losing myself to good food. My body dragged me down, gut heavy and achingly full. My stomach pressed against my lungs, pushing me to a shortness of breath I had not felt in a long while. I could suddenly see all of myself and... I liked it. I blushed as my hands roved the surface of my doughy, white furred gut. I squirmed as I could feel how far out it pushed, just how massive I had become and in such a short time! I was bigger than I could remember being, a hog, a cow! I remembered the looks the other maidens would give me as I waddled along the hallways, not judgemental no, but they made my cheeks burn all the same and I knew I would receive those looks once again. And some part of me loved it. Some part I was not yet ready to give a name to, but an important part all the same.

It was that part of me, perhaps, that pushed me to continue. Pushed me to lean against the box, gut pressed against its side, tipping it towards me so I could gather the last muffins and cakes. I pushed each delicious confection into my mouth, forcing myself to chew and swallow despite the painful fullness my stomach protested with. I pushed myself to complete the tribute, to eat it all, to do my part for the temple, even as my gut pushed out further with every swallow and became heavier with every bite.

And then, finally, the offering box was empty and I let it slide from my fingers. It rocked on the ground and came to a rest against my stomach with a dull slap against my doughy flesh. I panted and groaned, clutching my bloated lovehandle. I was massive. And though I burned with embarrassment, and in my old life I would have been ashamed to be seen like this, now? I felt a giddy glow within. 

Endra appeared at the doorway while I groped myself, clearing her throat to get my attention. Impulsively my body attempted to snap up straight but the lard I had accumulated had other ideas, making me undulate and not a lot else. She smiled.

“I see you’ve cleared the tribute box, I’m proud of you.” Though I had only known her a few months, hearing those words brought another kind of blush to my cheeks. “I can see you’re in no state to move so I’ll have the girls return the donation box to its rightful place.” She turned to leave, and then paused, “Make sure you get a good night’s sleep Jenny. As word spreads, the tribute will only grow.” 

And so, it seemed, would I.