Nothing Could Go Wrong p2 (Patreon)

Something might have gone wrong.

It had been two hours since Jenny had tried the concoction she'd whipped up that morning – any good alchemist knows they ought to sample their own creations of course. The recipe had been helpful and although some of the fae language was of a dialect she was unsure of, she had been about 90% sure that the end result would work fine. At the end of the process she had a tea bag infused with the flavour of cotton candy and certainly when she sipped the hot brewed delight she created, it gave her a vivid taste that reminded her of festival music and merry go rounds.

But that had been two hours ago and now she was staring at an unusual development. She had a stomach. Not the kind of stomach that you have when you're taking off your shirt in a coca-cola advert with washboard abs or what have you. The kind of stomach that your finger sinks into when you poke it. The kind of stomach that wobbles when you get up and jostles with every step you take. It had developed as she was cleaning her equipment and she barely noticed it until, leaning over to turn a tap off, her new gut had pressed up against the counter, squished flat against its cool surface. Instantly she leapt back with a yelp, a blush forming across her cheeks a second later.

This was not exactly the firsttime that Jenny had gained weight from a spell or alchemical preparation gone wrong (or right, for that matter), but it was always a little scary when it happened to her out of the blue. A stark indication that she had messed something up with the little fairy floss tea she had made earlier in the day. Thankfully the concoction hadn't gone out to the client yet but that still left it up to her to figure out what had gone wrong with it and, she thought as her stomach grumbled and puffed out yet another inch, how to put things right. She braced her stomach either side with her hands, feeling the fabric of the shirt which had fit loosely on her this morning stretched to its limit and riding up the fuzzy dome. She had to have gained in excess of fifty pounds, if the gain to her stomach and breasts were anything to go by. She couldn't exactly see her thighs but certainly they felt heavier too. As she stared at it, her gut grumbled loudly, hungrily, and another voice in the back of her head begged her to indulge that hunger. To eat and eat until she couldn't eat any more, and then take another bite just because. Because it felt good to be this big, and she knew she could get much bigger. But no.

Jenny shook her head, blush still painted bright red on her cheeks. She would have to fix what went wrong before she puffed up any more. If this was what had happened to her after two hours, imagine what might happen after six! Grunting a little with the extra weight, the witch waddled her way back through the kitchen to where she had left her alchemy book on her dining room table. From there, she had a clear sight to the front of her store which would let her deal with any customers who might wander in while she was working. As she sat down she gave a gentle, embarrassed squeak to feel the sides of her chair squishing slightly against the sides of her gut. Unable to push the gluttonous thoughts from her mind, the possum pulled her mobile phone from her pocket while she set up her notes on the table – it wouldn't hurt to order a little pizza, after all. Her stomach growled its agreement, pushing her shirt up just a little more as she distracted herself with the phone call.