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Throwing in the towel

Unable to think of anything else, you start the long trek back to the castle, having to find your way through the sewers since you long outgrew the pipe you had found entry way in. Of course this is extremely difficult with the mass you have so recently acquired. To make things worse, now that the pressure of finding the gold before you grew immobile is no longer on you, the adrenaline surge that had been forcing you onward begins wearing off, so despite no longer gaining anymore weight, you start feeling the pull of gravity more and more with every step you take as you have to strain against your massive body, which feels like a sack filled with molasses. by the time you make it back to the castle, you are sweating bullets, exhausted, sore and panting. So of course the first thing that greets you as you open the front door and squeeze your lard ridden frame through is who else but the Leprechaun.

"It's about time you made it back laddy." he said, perched on the lip of his pot of gold, "I was beginning to think you had run off, what game should we play next?" You take a moment to process this. You tired, hungry. morbidly obese, and mentally exhausted. You pretty much had enough. "I'm done," you say, and head off to the bathroom, ignoring the Leprechaun. "Wait, what?" the little green man says, a bit surprised, but you ignore him and continue on your way.

You take a shower the best you can, though you really don't fit in it, you manage to was yourself a portion at a time, and dry yourself off with three towels when two become soaked trying to cover all of your massive frame. You go through all your clothing to try and find something that fits, finally finding your PJ's, which are far more elastic then any of your clothes. You pull the shirt on, which only manages to come down to the top of your belly before refusing to budge any further, while you manage to wiggle the bottoms around your waist, the pressure holding it there at the limit of it's stretching capacity. You then waddle to the kitchen load up a tray full of food, and find a living room with a TV. You sit down, a feeling of relief flooding your overworked legs as your weight pushes into the cushions, flattening them out as your backside spreads to fill over half of it. Since your stomach is practically all you can reach, you go ahead and set your tray on it as if it were a table, click the TV on with the remote, and proceed to relax, snacking as you try to turn your mind off and recuperating, trying not to think about how your going to deal with getting up again, let alone what your going to do tomorrow...


Written by Spots

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