Thistle's C-List Meal Ticket (Patreon)

“A-And you’re SURE this will work?” Harry asked for the millionth time, sweat trickling down his neck.

Thistle rolled her eyes and leaned against the alley wall. “Yeah, dumbass, it’ll work so long as the pic you got is right. Give it here.”

The sweaty man shakily pulled a photo from his jacket pocket and handed it to Thistle. She looked it over. It was a full-profile picture of a very familiar redheaded hottie laughing it up in skimpy exercise gear. Cute~. Let’s see… height, check - figure, check - hair color, ethnicity, eye color, teeth color, check.

“W-Well? Is that good enough?”

Thistle smirked. “Yeah, it’s perf. Wanna see?”

The man nodded quickly. Thistle cracked her neck and stared at the photo. Shifting usually worked best when she’d seen the person face-to-face, but a pic with all the deets like this worked just fine so long as she didn’t need to get into bed with anyone.

The first change was her skin. Her vibrant sky-colored skin faded to a dull tanned peach. Then she shrank a good four inches. Her chest shrank to match the lady’s while her hips swelled up a few sizes. The sound of grinding bones filled Thistle’s ears as her face rebuilt itself. Her eyesight flickered for a second, signaling the changing of her pupils. She blinked a few times as the last few bits of her body changed, then tucked the photo into her (now much looser) bra.

Thistle posed for Harry, who was just staring at her with mouth agape. “Well? How’d I do?”

“Y-You’re… You’re just like her…!”

“Ha!” The disguised woman cackled, “‘Course I am! I’m a pro, after all!” She took a few test steps around the alley, noting how tight her jeans felt on her ass and how her bra was already slipping off. She’d need to swap into outfit seven for this chick. Thistle glanced back at the man. “What about the voice? Ya got a clip of her voice for me or am I tryin’ this mute?”

“Huh?” Harry shook his head. “Uh, r-right! Here-”

He pulled out a recorder and pressed the button. From the little box came a woman’s scornful voice, saying, “For the love of GOD, Harry, just give up! Were you always so clingy? I’m NOT apologizing! Just sign the divorce papers already so I can get Trent to put a ring on me already!”

Thistle snorted. “A real piece of work this one is, huh?”

“Hey, that’s my wife you’re talking about!” Harry hissed.

“Says the one who’s try’na ruin her public rep, huh?” Thistle laughed. “Oh, but I’m not judgin’ or nothin’, ‘course! Whatever reason you got for wantin’ this is gonna pay my bills, after all~.”

Harry scowled, but Thistle didn’t care. She closed her eyes, put her hand to her throat, and said, “Play it again, piano man. I gotta sync up.”

The disgruntled man did as he was told. As the redheaded wonder bitched at Harry again, Thistle spoke alongside her, reworking her vocal cords. That was an octave too high… two too low… change the pitch… a bit more nose… aaaand…

“Hem, hem! Testing, testing!” Thistle said aloud in a voice that distinctly was not hers. She smirked at Harry. “That’s pretty good, yeah? Oh, or as she would say: That was an excellent job, right?”

Harry swallowed hard. “Jesus fucking Christ, it really is like she’s right here…”

“I’m glad you’re feelin’ my talent, Harry,” Thistle chuckled. “Just one last thing before we do this, though.”

“Wh-What is that?”

Thistle smirked. She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together. “You got the dough, Joe?”

--------------------------------------------------------------

After a quick cash exchange and outfit swap, Thistle walked confidently down the sidewalk with all the pep she could put in her step. She was feeling pretty flippin’ happy about how today was playing out so far. It wasn’t every day she got to maul the career of a c-list celebrity, after all~.

She walked past a storefront and flinched as she saw herself in a window’s reflection. Shit, her eyes! Her usual massive black pupils were showing through! Damned reflections and showing her real eyes! It didn’t usually matter but she was going to have plenty of pictures taken of her today, meaning that she needed these damn gorgeous eyes of hers covered, stat.

Thistle slipped a pair of designer sunglasses out of her handbag and slid them on. Problem solved~. She continued on, confident as ever. Luckily, outfit seven was working it. High-brand slacks, a designer belt, a flawless white blouse, and three-inch heels. The best part? It had all been free when a previous client had given her all of her ex’s old clothes post-job just to get them out of her house. Free designer outfits were delish~.

On this particularly fine day, a life was about to be twisted. The perpetrator? A young, classy, and damn fine changeling named Thistle. Paid for by the jilted ex-hubby, fitness guru Mellissa Mardra was about to be given her final fifteen minutes of fame without even getting to enjoy what she was about to be blamed for. According to hubby Harry, Mellissa was currently relaxing at home alone - meaning she had no alibi. Perfect.

A few heads were turning as Thistle walked down the sidewalk. Heh. She didn’t get to wear a face this famous or attractive too often, so she might as well enjoy it! She brushed her flowing red hair over her shoulder and flaunted her false figure. Get a good look, sweeties. This figure wasn’t gonna last for long~.

After a few minutes of walking, Thistle turned and marched straight into her destination: a pizza place named Big Betty’s. It was just hitting the lunch hour, so the place was bustling, as expected. That didn’t stop people from noticing her, though. Good. The more people that noticed, the better.

Thistle walked up and joined the line. She examined her fingernails, which had changed to be painted blue to match Mellissa’s nails, and tapped her foot impatiently. She didn’t actually care about waiting, but making Mellissa look like a bitch was part of the job description, soooo…

After a good few minutes, Thistle reached the counter. The poor woman who was working the register started her usual spiel of, “Hi, welcome to Big Betty’s. May I take your-” before a look of recognition froze her face. She just stared at Thistle for a moment. “Wait- Oh my God. Aren’t you Mellissa Mardra?”

Thistle let out an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, I am. I’d prefer if you didn’t say my name quite so loud, though. You’ll draw attention.”

“O-Oh, right, uh, sorry, miss Mardra- uh, I mean, miss!” The woman squeaked. She cleared her throat and continued quietly, “Wh-What can I get for you today, miss?”

Thistle crossed her arms. “I’ll be taking the Big Betty’s Big Fat Challenge.”

“WH-WHAT!?” The girl yelped, drawing the eyes of more than a few customers.

Thistle laughed internally, but externally, she leaned in and snarled, “I said DON’T be so loud! I will END you, girl!”

“I-I-I am SO sorry!” the girl cried, her eyes trembling. “I- I don’t- uh, ok, uh- l-let me go get the manager-”

“And why do you need to do that?” Thistle asked haughtily.

“B-Because h-he has to be present whenever s-someone attempts the challenge?” The girl responded shakily.

“...Hmph. Fine. Go get him then.”

Heh. The girl was obviously a fan, but she hadn't seen through Thistle’s change. That meant the picture really had been recent. Good job, Harry, you asshole. You were making Thistle’s job easy.

After a few moments, the girl returned followed closely by a tall, balding man. His eyes widened when he saw Thistle. A few tense whispers were passed between manager and worker before the man approached Thistle. “I, ah, I’m sorry, miss Mardra, but I think my employee may have misheard you. May I ask what-”

Thistle cut the rude man off. “You heard her right. I’m here for the challenge. You won’t be taking a picture of me after I finish, however. You’ll be hearing from my agency if you do.”

The man swallowed hard. “Oh, uh, th-that’s fine, miss Mardra. We, uh, don’t have a private room for you to eat in though, so-”

“Ugh, what are you going on about?” Thistle huffed. “Just put me in a corner booth and don’t draw attention to me! Is that really so difficult!?”

The quickly nodded. “R-Right, of course! Luckily, a table just happens to be open, so I’ll take you to it right away!” He turned to the worker girl. “Tell the cooks to work as fast as possible!”

“Yes, sir!”

The girl darted away as Thistle was led to a comfy corner booth meant for a whole party of people. She slid in and immediately pulled out her phone, which she had slipped into a case matching Mellissa’s before meeting up with Harry earlier. She glanced up at the manager, who was still standing nearby looking nervous. “Well? Is there something you want?”

“Oh, uh, no, miss Mardra, it’s just…” The manager swallowed hard. “I was just curious about if it was ok for you to be doing this-”

“Huh?” Thistle said, adding as much rich-white lady attitude to her voice as she possibly could (which was a lot - she’d had plenty of practice) and continued, “Who are you to be asking something like that? Why do I need to justify myself to some no-future pizza hut manager? So creepy.”

The manager looked like he’d eaten a lemon whole. He looked away. “S-Sorry about that. I’ll be back when it’s time to start your challenge.”

As the man walked away, Thistle allowed herself a cocky grin. As always, Thistle was doing a damn fine job of acting like a total bitch. She also couldn’t help but notice that there were one or two new people seated around the shop - and that more than one of them had their phone or a camera secretly pointed towards Thistle. Good, good! Even a c-list celeb like Mardra could draw in the paparazzi if she tried! So do it! Record every last second of Thistle’s time in here! Earn this bad bitch her extra 10k! Ha!

FUCK, Thistle loved being a changeling!

Minutes of phone-tapping and exaggerated sighs of impatience passed by until, finally, it was time. A massive wooden pizza board was brought out by two men and taken straight to Thistle’s table. She licked her lips as she looked down at the pizza that was laid before her. It was a beautiful pizza pie - thirty-six inches in diameter, roughly twenty pounds, covered in basic-bitch pepperonis and tasty cheese, cut into easy-to-grab squares, and aaaaaall hers!

“Miss Mardra, I have the rules of the challenge here to read. May I-”

Oh, it was that manager again. Thistle scowled at him. “I know the rules. One hour to eat the whole thing. No bathroom breaks, no leaving, no throwing up.”

The manager blinked. “Y-Yes, that’s right. If you’re still waiting for your challenge partner, then we can-”

“Challenge partner? What partner?” Thistle grabbed a square of pizza and took a huge bite. It was JUST as good as she’d hoped! She swallowed, then smirked at the taken-aback manager. “I won’t need a timer, but you can start one if you want.”

The man seemed frozen for a moment before he pulled a timer out of his pocket and set it on the table. After starting it, he quickly ushered the two men who had carried out the pizza away. Good. All she wanted right now was the bonus that went along with her paycheck~.

Thistle gobbled up the pizza square in her hand and immediately picked up another. She loved being able to totally pig out like this! Even if most other fae only cared about sugary junk, Thistle would NEVER get tired of human food! Pizza, penne, curry, dumplings, pad thai, shepherd’s pie - she loved it all!

Chunk after chunk of pizza got gnashed up between Thistle’s falsified pearly whites. She could already feel her skimpy blouse start to fill up and the waistline of her slacks starting to cut into her gut. It made sense - Mellissa was a slim person whose figure was so culturally-standard that it made tweens depressed, so it was only natural that just a small bit of pizza glutting was making her body look prego. Thistle sucked down another square and giggled to herself. Little miss Mardra was gonna look fucking HUGE after all this pizza!

About a quarter of the way through the pizza, Thistle began to have issues. Her gut was muffining over her pants now, cutting a tight line across her tender skin. It was a bit early, but… maybe it was time to give the ‘razzi a little taste of what was to come~.

Thistle leaned back in her seat and let a soft burp out onto her hand. She wiped her hands on a napkin and groaned softly. She glanced around, pretending not to notice the many ‘diners’ that ‘weren’t’ paying attention to her, and not-so-subtly unbuttoned her pants. She sighed happily as her stomach bloated out, pushing the formerly clasped buttons far enough apart to make one wonder how they’d been clasped together in the first place. After a brief show of patting her stomach, Thistle returned to her pizza feast.

The changeling was in heaven. As she stuffed herself with enough pizza to make a gnoll cry, she was carefully adjusting the size of her stomach, letting it expand to match the never-ending torrent of pizza flowing in. She loved a nice, taut gut just as much as the next gal, but she needed to put on a show for miss Mardra’s loyal fans - and that meant making enough space for every single delectable bite of this fine, fine pizza!

Thistle ate and ate and ate, rarely leaving herself with an empty mouth. Her gut swelled out with each passing minute, inching across her lap at record speed. She wiped her mouth on a hastily grabbed napkin for just a moment, before cramming more pizza down her gullet, totally nullifying that napkin’s noble sacrifice. More! More, more, MORE! Enough was never enough!

A loud gurgle echoed through Thistle’s body as she reached the halfway point. She giggled to herself and allowed a hand to take a break from pizza-shoveling duty so that she could rub her flank. Her blouse was having trouble fulfilling its job as a blouse now: it had crawled up her stomach and was now settled closer to her breasts than her belly button. No matter how much she tugged the shirt back down, it would shoot right back up. She quickly gave up, reveling in the knowledge that miss Mardra’s bare gut was gonna be in every single health tabloid headline in an hour or two. She just massaged her side and moaned softly as her stomach rumbled and groaned.

Thistle’s belly was just about reaching her knees when she began having issues reaching more pizza. Her gut would press into the side of the table and push her back, stopping her from reaching her beloved cheesy treat. She could cram her gut under the table, but then it would be hidden from the lovely tabloid readers. Instead, she grabbed the edge of the giant pizza plate and worked on spinning it around. Ah, her precious arriveth! Come to momma~.

It wasn’t much longer after that that Thistle began to have the exact same issue again. This damn gut of hers! It was huge and noisy and oh-so-lovely to feel, but it was getting harder and harder to reach her beloved pizza! She grunted as the edge of the table pressed into her swollen gut, just barely managing to snatch yet another square. Her insides rumbled angrily at her for being so rude to them. Thistle munched on her retrieved pizza and sighed. Ok, ok, fine. MAYBE she would just tuck her belly under the table-

SIKE! Thistle tugged her belly to the side, pulling her leg up onto the seat next to her. Her gut wobbled and groaned as she shifted it onto her curled-up leg, which was immediately engulfed by the heavy pizza sack. She chuckled happily as she easily selected her next pizza victim. Now her belly had plenty of room to grow while still being on full display.

Thistle’s gut slowly inched further and further out from her body as she scarfed down pizza, drooping off of her leg and onto the seat. It was rumbling and gurgling near constantly now. Just because Thistle was changing her body so that all this pizza would fit didn’t mean she could adjust how her body felt about it. Her stomach knew that it was far more full than it should ever be and was letting her know every chance it could. Thistle, naturally, ignored her body completely. She had more pizza to eat, after all! This shit was TASTY!

Just a few squares remained. Thistle, sad that her pizza party of one was nearly over, let herself slow down. She munched on each square and rubbed her gut, pressing into her malleable skin to feel the solid mass of food she’d crammed into herself. She was going to be digesting all this for days! Changelings might burn a lot of extra calories compared to other races from shapeshifting, but this gut of hers was nothing short of a luxury. A luxury she fully intended to enjoy to the fullest once her job was over and done with. Speaking of which…

The very last square of pizza slid down Thistle’s throat. She sighed contentedly and slapped the side of her gut, getting a perfect wobble going for the cameras. She took a look at the timer for the first and only time. Twenty minutes, huh? She was eight minutes off her record for this amount of food. Damn. Maybe next time.

Thistle, who wasn’t going to move until she needed to for one massive reason, stared at the girl working the register expectantly until she finally caught her eye. The girl looked confused until her eyes snapped onto the place where she was no doubt expecting at least ten pounds of pizza to still be. With that pizza gone, the girl’s eyes widened and she quickly darted off to get her manager.

Within seconds, the manager was out next to THistle’s table. He looked pissed, much to Thistle’s absolute pleasure. “What did you do?” He demanded, bending over to look underneath the table and onto the empty booth. “What did you do with all that pizza?”

“What are you talking about?” Thistle crooned, draping an arm over her rumbling gut. “I think it’s pretty obvious where it all went. By the way…” She shot daggers at the manager, a hiss on her breath, as she said, “I thought I said to not draw any attention.”

The man scowled and slammed his hands on the table. “Bull. Shit! Professional eaters can’t eat that much so fast! I don’t know how you made this fake-looking gut of yours, but it’s not going to-”

As the manager spoke, he reached out and grabbed Thistle’s gut. He was likely expecting one of those fake prego bellies or something, but by the way he froze with his mouth hung open and a hand full of groaning belly, Thistle could tell that he was starting to face reality. She wanted to burst out laughing, but for the sake of her job…

“What the FUCK are you DOING!?”

Thistle's outraged voice immediately drew the attention of the very few people in the building that weren’t already staring her way. The manager whipped his hand back, looking mortified. “W-W-Well- it’s just- n-no person can- could- wh-what I mean is-”

“I don’t give a shit what you mean!” Thistle hissed indignantly. She took a deep breath, then started to heave herself towards the booth’s exit. “I’m- *huff* LIVID that you *ugh* would DARE to- *HUFF* TOUCH me like that! I have- *HIC-ugh* half a mind to sue for- *UUuurp* assault!”

Each heave forward made Thistle’s massive gut bounce and shake violently, disturbing what little peace was inside. All of the gas inside of her giant pizza sack of a stomach was starting to work its way up and out now, much to Thistle’s delight. If poor, poor Mellissa’s reputation wasn’t already going to be shattered, it certainly would be after this~!

Finally, while the manager desperately groveled for his life, Thistle got her feet solidly onto the floor. She braced herself, then, using the table as a brace, she heaved herself to her feet. FUCK, what a WEIGHT! She would NEVER get tired of how much her body shook and trembled while trying to support so much extra weight in her belly! Oh, her face, right- pissed. Mellissa’s pissed!

“Fuck you and fuck your store!” Thistle yelled at the man, who was sweating enough to water a flower shop. “You better HOPE to GOD that none of this goes public because of your bullshit, fucker!”

With that final exclamation and a snooty head turn, Thistle sauntered out of the Big Betty’s pizza place. And by ‘sauntered’, she meant ‘waddled’ - with a gut this size and heft, waddling was about the only movement option left to her.

Naturally, all eyes turned to her and her shameful bare behemoth gut out on the sidewalk. That was nice and all, but Thistle’s job was done. She just needed to find somewhere out of these prying eyes to shift into something less conspicuous.

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Harry was still in the meeting spot, exactly where Thistle had left him an hour ago. He was so absorbed in his phone that he didn’t even see Thistle walk up - which was a mean feat since she was sporting an extra twenty pounds all up in front.

“Hey, idiot,” Thistle sneered, causing him to jump. “I’m back. How’s the news lookin’?”

The scruffy man gulped, eyes rapidly darting between Thistle’s face and her prominent gut. “It’s… horrific. There are already pictures of her - you - all over the place. People are dragging her about her attitude towards service workers and for being a shameless hypocrite.”

“Heh. Exactly. Sounds about right.” Thistle cracked her neck and breathed out, feeling a huge sense of relief as she started to shift back into her own body. The popping of joints and creaking of bones mingled with the loud churning of her gut, which was not happy with Thistle’s changing form.

While the changeling was shifting, Harry looked back to his phone, obviously trying to avoid seeing what was happening. “Y-Y’know, when you suggested the idea to me, I-I didn’t think it would work, but… I guess you’re a professional for a reason, right?”

“You’re damn straight I am,” Thistle crowed. She put a hand to her throat and gently worked her vocal cords back into shape. She laughed and slapped her gut. “It doesn’t matter what Mellissa’s done in the past or what she says from now on! Even if she convinces people this was all fake, it’ll still exist! Those pics and vids of ‘her’ still exist! It’s hard to preach ‘bout good health and exercise when you have pics of you cosplayin’ as a beluga whale! Hah!”

Harry stared down at his phone for a moment before responding, “...Yeah, I… I guess you’re sure right about that…”

Uh-oh. Sap alert. Time to stop playing. “Right, well, this was fun, but I’m gonna need the second half of my moola now. Chop chop, please.”

“Oh, uh… yeah… right…” Luckily for both of them, Harry didn’t cause a fuss and pulled out the second ten-thousand bucks. He then left without a word, never once looking up from his phone.

Tch. Dipshit. If he was gonna regret ruining his ex’s life, then why’d he pay Thistle to ruin it in the first place? Heh.

Thistle quickly changed back into her old clothes, not wanting some perv to get a peek, and started on her way home. What should she do with her latest paycheck? She giggled to herself and groped her gut through her hoodie pocket. She shrank her gut a bit and sucked in a tense breath as her skin went taut, turning her belly from plush and wobbly to a solid boulder dragging her forward in mere seconds.

Whatever Thistle did with her newest 20k, it was going to be later. MUCH later. She wanted to have some fun first~. She wondered which of the numbers in her little black book would be ready and willing for some mid-Thursday play time… heheh…

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Looks like June was the month of monsters, huh? Today's gal just happened to be monstrous both inside and out though, heh. Thistle is a bitch but I love her a lot~.

Don't get used to public fics, though. This was a very rare occasion where this specific personality worked for a public stuffing for me. 

Up next is the exclusive D.VA fic! That'll be up on the final day of the month, just like usual. 

I will MAYBE have the Mythra/Pyra short FINALLY finished before then... MAAAAYBE. And then MAYBE the next short you're owed before the July poll starts. MAYBE.

MAYBE.