#I always battle with them Peixes' horns

[onlysushicat]

Can we get a doodle of feferi with bantu knots :?

Pretty pleaseee

1st time drawing this hairstyle, tell me how I did💖🐿

[skeletorific]

man i just wanna throw this out there and i think you'll catch it, how do you think some of the ancestors would take an invite to a human thing like a party or a ceremony? like if it was prefaced with 'compared to troll events there's a strict no one dies policy and a be human-style nice to people you don't particularly like or care for rule as well' idk if even the first ship crew would come along, and tbh i wouldn't really fault them because it's new and spoopy and they're dead after all

Ok, so you have thrown it, and I have caught it. I am unsure if I caught it in the direction you threw it, but I have caught SOMETHING and it is something I love dearly.

So, this question: I had to think for a moment. What scenario results in every single ancestor being in the same locale, in such a capacity that they are forced to interact, not only with each other, but with humans, to the point that not only can they not kill anyone but there is literally no point in killing each other?

....

....OH WAIT EARTH C-

So yeah, everyone say thank you paradox space. There had to be at least one dream bubble out there from a timeline where the alphas got yoinked into sburb as their Alternian selves by mistake right?

So, let’s assume they’ve had a few months to settle in, adjust to modern life. Troll kingdom has issued an ultimatum to the more....chaotic Ancestors in terms of the rearranged hemospectrum. They will, to quote Karkat, “FUCKING DEAL WITH IT”. Not an easy pill to swallow for a few of them, but then, a few millenia in the dream bubbles has forcibly mellowed them quite a bit and eventually its just more trouble than its worth.

I have a lot of thoughts on this timeline (ancestors get apartments are you kidding me, the potential), but let’s return to the question at hand.

The invitation makes the rounds through a lot of ghost communities, but a particularly bold human approaches the Ancestors themselves with an invite to one of the bigger ragers being thrown in the human kingdom. The celebration of the return of the gods is always a blowout, and this year promises to be especially so, with something between a gala and a block party planned to be pitched.

So here’s why they all show up, and here’s what they do:

The Handmaid is an odd duck. Sure, there’s a certain morose pleasure in watching the cosmic plans of the man who abused her from childhood fall apart because of a handful of chump kids, but that doesn’t mean she’s happy to be back here with these assholes, and it doesn’t mean she’s looking to build a social life. She’s perfectly happy to spend the rest of her days haunting the abandoned house she found on the outskirts of the carapace kingdom and terrorize any local teens that stick their noses where they aren’t wanted. When the uni student turns up with a flyer she cusses them out but good and sends them on their way with a couple of threats to life and limb.

And then shows up anyways.

Not to socialize, mind, just to watch. From the rafters probably. Snickering at all the drama going down, dropping spiders in Makara’s drink and stealing Dualscar’s watch when he’s not looking. And maybe see if Condy gets drunk enough to want a rematch. Laws be damned. Now THIS is a party.

The Signless’s entire crew is a bit of a chain pull. The Disciple wants to go extremely badly, so of course she manages to purrsuade The Signless to come with her. The Psiionic doesn’t want to go period but he’ll be damned if he’s letting Vantas out of his sight into an unguarded area. The Dolorosa wanted to go this whole time and is the one who got Leijon all riled up about it in the first place, but pretends she’s just doing it to keep an eye on Vantas and Captor.

Once there, they’re not exactly social butterflies, but compared to the others they’re practically savants. Leijon prowls on the edges of crowds, listening for snatches of information, and enjoys constructing narratives in her own mind about the relationships between all of them. Vantas finds himself pulled into a lot of conversations just to explain his life’s work (and, to his chagrin, to destabilize a few myths he’s accrued over the centuries). He tries to keep a level head but after a few beers though he’s hotly debating politics with three or four Kankri ghosts and has to be dragged away by Captor, who’s been following him and Leijon like a kid following their parent at a family reunion. Maryam disappeared hours ago and doesn’t get back home late, looking a little bit smug but tight-lipped about her evening. All four of them avoid the other Ancestors like the plague.

Neophyte Redglare of all of them has probably adjusted the best to this new life. Unlike the others, she’s actually gotten some friends that weren’t a part of the dream bubbles, and would happily spend most of the evening chattering with them. Still, for reasons we’ll get into it later, she spends most of it babysitting Makara and doing a bit of pitch-flirting with everyone’s favorite pir8.

Speaking of the Marquise Mindfang Spineret, like the Handmaid she protested loudly she was too cool for this party and then showed up anyways. Still, its not like she’s there to socialize. Most of what she does is spot the people who look like they might be heading off to bigger and more illegal things outside the party and without a word installing herself as part of their social circle. She invites Nitram, but her matesprit is a little occupied with an old enemy. That’s fine, she appreciates a score to settle, but its not fun if someone isn’t paying attention to her antics. Fortunately, Pyrope is happy to oblige her, and Dualscar is a delightful enough lackey while he’s still sober enough to handle it (so, for about five minutes). All told, an entert8ning evening indeed ;;;)

Executor Darkleer shows up for roughly ten minutes, near the very end, and does what he’s done at most social gatherings since they left the dream bubbles: stand awkwardly in the corner, stare at Leijon, and wonder if they’re still cool. Are they still cool? Probably? Right? But who’s to say. He absconds early to go work on his personal projects and probably punch something.

The Summoner is in peak form. Like Vantas, he has plenty of questions coming his way, and while no Nitram has ever been arrogant, he’s at least a little indulgent about some, shall we say, popular headcanons that have popped up since then. He’s slamming beers to cover up the usual low level of social anxiety (a battlefield he can handle, but a soiree is another matter altogether), and its working. He’s flirting a storm through the ballroom, something Serket is probably going to give him repercussions for. Its also making him a little, uh....confrontational, shall we say. So when he spot an old, clowny foe, well...

Oh, The Grand Highblood. 

He didn’t want to come. Full stop. Picked the wriggler with the flyer up by the back of their shirt and turned them around. Damn lucky he didn’t just throw them out. He wasn’t going to show up at this meaningless little heretical shindig, bump shoulders with strangers and be bored out of his motherfucking skull to boot. The only reason he got dragged in is Peixes didn’t give him a lot of other options. So here he is. Standing like a grim spectre of everyone’s demise, sullenly scowling at anyone who approaches and snarling at anyone who opens their protein chute in his direction.

For about five minutes.

What can I say, clowns love parties.  A couple of faygos later (if you think Condy didn’t come prepared you’re crazy) and this brawny ass goat is getting turnt out of his mind on the dancefloor. Nobody knows exactly what the fuck he’s doing with his body but its definitely deeply explicit and more than a little alarming. Still, it suits the environment, and there’s this unaccountable field of manic energy that just sort of erupts around him, escalating the party wherever he goes. Redglare has to babysit him (because Peixes, Serket and Ampora sure won’t, and who the fuck knows where Zahhak is), and even still he ends up with a busted keg dangling from one of his horns. He is feeding off of this motherfucking rhapsody tonight, fellas, and the grisly bastard has more than a few sick bars in him.

Orphaner Dualscar is decidedly less enthused. Nothing quite like being a failed romantic footnote in the only surviving account of your life to kill your rep as an intimidating pirate. He’s not adjusting well to modern life, and mostly spends the night in the corner with a solo cup, scowling at any and all. For a while he joins Serket in her activities but eventually is too soused to really participate, and she ditches him. Which is starting to become a recurring trend. He spends the rest of the night trying to seduce someone, literally, anyone, just get him out of this fucking stupid party, he’s so FUCKIN LONELY GOG-

up to you if it actually works or not.

Meanwhile, Her (Formerly) Imperial Condescension.....look, Peixes can’t stay away from a party. Even a lame-ass one for guppies 3>8(. I mean, the no killing thing is REALLY fucking cramping her style, but to be frank its more trouble than its worth. Most of them just come back as ghosts and try to bonk you back. Annoying is what it is. So, fine, she agrees, no culling. 

Doesn’t mean the party can’t at least be interesting, and that’s damn well what she brought Makara to do for her. Works like a charm, too, Makara might be a grumpy basshole but he knows how to cut loose when he wants to. She’s chanting him through chugging an entire keg on his own with a small crowd of people when she spots a familiar pair of impossibly wide horns. Ohhh shit, get the grubcorn-.....wait, is that Megido in the rafters?!

No trolls or humans were (fatally) harmed in the making of this evening’s closing act, but suffice to say the building wasn’t so lucky. Two reenactments of the more legendary battles in Alternian history (which is saying something) was more than the palace could handle. In the end they were separated and sent to dry out in separate cells, Dave using his time powers to keep a handle on the The Handmaid. 

Suffice to say it’ll be a while before any of them get another invitation.

[twitchesandstitches]

Empress Terezi’s Voracious Pregnancy Pt 1

Part one of a commission I did for @alt-hammer, set in a bloodswap AU where Terezi is the fuchsia heiress, has taken in Karkat and is working to redeem the Alternian empire, with digestion if need be! And repopulating it with her massive fertile self, too.

It is a sequel to a previous commission I did, set in the same continuity; if you want a little more context, that may be helpful to read!

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

The world was. In one of the language of its native species, Earth. That it was labeled as such on the updated star charts of the Alternian interstellar archives, and not perhaps ‘Vacant Lot #21519’ was perhaps a big bright sign about how different the reign of the new empress-in-progress, Terezi Peixes, would be. No more war, not if they didn’t have to fight. No more expansion through violence, no more wiping out other alien races, no more injustice for one ancient monster’s lust for bloodshed.

Of course, Terezi mused as she reclined her monstrously gravid body in the comfort of a pleasure ship parked in a sea in a pleasantly cool climate, there were… extenuating circumstances regarding the Condesce’s actions. These had been taken into consideration, and dismissed.

She knew things, now. The knowledge burned in the back of her head, curling at the edges. The visions had shown her so much, and it had given her a better understanding of the situation. It didn’t matter much to her if the Condesce had been manipulated into being a monster by forces beyond her control; a monster she was, and Terezi knew what to do with monsters.

Perhaps, they would call her the Devourer of Injustice. That sounded good, and accurate.

Might be a while before, right now, they called her a true empress; Terezi contemplated the thousands of planets she now controlled, the empire quite firmly in her grip after years of war and battle and political scheming against the Condesce, to finally have her ousted, but the rules of succession were clear: the Condesce, wherever she had fled, was still alive.

No dead empress, no empire for her. She could wait, and manage it by proxy until it was official. In the meantime, she had other plans, and many worlds to take care of.

Terezi’s handmaidens (trolls of every caste, humans of every kind) fussed around her, trying to keep her clothes from popping off their knots, a task hampered a bit by the powerful fertility field she emanated. The handmaids were all outrageously curvy to begin with now, but closer to Terezi, they bloomed into pregnancy, their bellies, breasts, and hips all expanding. Bronya, the purpleblooded leader of the handmaidens, kept an eye on who was too pregnant or not to serve, her enormous body a faint echo of Terezi’s own body, and directed them appropriately.

Terezi enjoyed it, and patted her enormous belly softly, giggling as she felt the eggs growing. Not just eggs, either, though there were thousands of them distending her belly into a massive orb low enough to nearly reach the floor, and extending out by nearly twice her height. Nearly eleven feet long, and over fifteen feet across, her gestation guts packed to the brim with eggs and the developing young of dozens of other species, and she felt more growing in every day!

It felt so good; her door-breakingly wide hips jerked unconsciously at the very satisfying feeling, waves of pleasure rolling out from her core at every sensation from her womb, no matter how minute. She could feel their complexity growing, however gradual and minor now, and it felt… so… good!

What felt even better was the love radiating across from her, from the smaller troll gently rubbing her belly, his small horns sliding protectively against her skin, and shy kisses dotted over the slopes closest to him. Each kiss made a bloom of delights on her flesh, for she was a fuchsia-blood and her blood was so cold, but he was a mutant remnant, his blood as red as the most forbidden candies, and his touch was a sweet burn. The handmaidens cooed and nuzzled around him.

Terezi smiled and stood up. This took some doing, given her sheer bulk; she was very short for a fuchsiablood, but then she wouldn’t grow to her full height for… god. Centuries, probably, of constant feasting to pump as many resources into her body as possible, giving it the lavish attention it needed for a proper imperial figure, and she only had so many calories to spare for her own body. Her powers diverted it all, instead, to her unborn offspring, with only a token amount to fuel her own growth. The handmaidens circled around, helping her up and encouraging her.

Even so, when she met him, she had been barely a few inches taller than his slight, short frame. Now she was almost a full head taller than him, her shoulders broad, her sides enormously thickened, and her breasts swelling so big that if she wasn’t blind, they would have made it very hard to see right in front of her.

And he looked so skinny to her. Well, he didn’t look like anything to her; she had been blind since birth, and she sensed the world in eldritch, alien ways, but she knew what he looked like. And he looked too damn skinny! “Are you eating right?” She said, waving a hand towards a plate piled high with food larger than him. She had fearsome dietary requirements, and it was but a light snack to her. But Karkat always got to eat first, even if she got to tease and taunt him all the while. “Go on, have some!”

Karkat shook his head, and hugged her belly a while longer. He laid a hand against her round belly, claws dragging on her lovingly. “Nah. I’m full up.”

Terezi looked skeptical, but her belly rumbled. “Seriously, I’m good with it,” she said, even as within her thousands of appetites cried out to be sated, so she waved a hand, and summoned forth the dread powers of two sources: the first was the psychokinetic powers of the rustbloods, with the control of goldblood psionics.

And empowering it was something… else. Something that, just for a moment, made her blind eyes glow brilliantly fuchsia.

The plate rocketed to her, and her jaws opened unnaturally wide; rows and rows of sharp teeth gleamed, and a hugely thick tongue telescoped out to snatch it and swallowed it whole, in a single gulp. Plate and all went straight down her gullet. She smacked her engorged lips happily, the food and plate consumed almost instantly.

She was hungry still; she needed something more… filling. And just, too!

She checked the alerts, and she smiled as she saw the report from Nepeta of her latest hunt. “Karkat, we got some business to deal with.”

Bronya bowed, on cue, gesturing so that the other handmaidens prepared all the essential things to avoid little problems like Empress Peixes getting stuck in doorways, or breaking them (again).

With an effort, she telekinetically activated the little drone designed to support her belly and it powered on, floating up and letting her walk in the special strut for a troll woman who had hips nearly six feet across, and carrying nearly four hundred pounds of meat on her backside… per each cheek, no less! Her gigantic butt wobbled sweetly, and as she advanced past Karkat, she smacked her butt into his hip with a flirtatiously blown kiss.

She smirked at the flurry of panic-arousal-awe swelling up in his mind, at once, the emotions mixing with thoughts that translated to her mind as visual images, and very sweet ones at that.

“C’mon,” she said. “Can’t be lazing about all day. Got work to do!” She strode off, her gigantic breasts shifting in their vaporwave-colored robe wrappings, a pleasant contrast to her exposed belly, and the population freshly gestating in it. She had been pregnant for several years now, and she just kept getting bigger. And getting more eggs; and thanks to other efforts, gestating aliens in her, to one day repopulate the worlds her ancestor had destroyed.

And the remnant inside her, slowly digesting every day but working hard to subvert her, whispered that she could make all creation bow to her, remake everything as she wanted. All she had to do… was let the angel in.

Terezi ignored the lingering echoes of the puppet. She felt a sense of resentment from it, and she smirked.

Terezi, her webbed claws gently holding Karkat’s hand and fingering the consort band her human followers had inspired her to give to him, took Karkat and wandered to a marginally busier part of the ship.

She saw… an amazing sight as they entered. At least, to her, because there were of course trolls working there. Administrative duties, monitoring reports and information received, wandering around trying to pretend they were doing work… but they weren’t just violets and purples. There were warmbloods, and midbloods, not just ceruleans and up; their uniforms were a rainbow, marked with the sea dragon of her uniforms that marked them as loyal to her rather than the Condesce, and effectively declared them standing behind her on the day came that the Condesce was finally cornered and Terezi took revenge for the suffering of untold trillions.

Her ravenous gut rumbled at the thought.

And, one might note, every single one of the troll women present were pregnant. Not as much as Terezi, but all of them had massive bellies, at least down to their knees, packed with over a hundred eggs each. Their bodies had fertile curves to match; breasts bigger than their heads, at the least, and hips that tended to bump into others, and from the way they kept rubbing their bellies, they quite enjoyed it.

But it was not just trolls there. Her mind’s eye touched hundreds of humans in this part of the ship alone; small ones, skinny ones, tall ones, ones that were head over heels in love with the far curvier and lovely trolls… ah, but that was most of them. And, like the trolls, all the women were pregnant, impossibly gravid. Those who wandered within Terezi’s proximity swelled up even more, their clothes popping and their bellies growing even bigger, and it was this that alerted them all to her arrival.

Well, that, and the thunderous creak of the door as Terezi’s approaching belly wrecked it. Her hips got stuck in it, and with a terrific smashing noise, there wasn't a door at ALL anymore. A novice handmaiden, a ceruleanblood named Chixie who often sang to Terezi, winced.

“Sup,” Terezi said, still holding Karkat’s hand.

Karkat felt it, and squeezed her hand tighter. She squeezed his hand back, glowing with pride. Possibly literally; she didn’t have the best handle on that.

There was a bit of commotion, with whispers about from the ultra-fertile women: ‘It’s the Empress! The Empress is here!...” - Why didn’t anyone let us know!” - “Would have got snacks…” - “Oh… wow, she is getting so BIG…” - “Shit, she is HOT.” - “Oh my god, you didn’t really just say that, I mean we’re all thinking it, but, wow! You humans…!”

Terezi laughed, riding on the votes of confidence, and turned as Karkat greeted a troll approaching them. “Hey, Kirela!”

The troll approaching them was taller than Terezi, despite being younger than her, so bouncy and energetic she skipped from one step to the other; it reminded Terezi of herself, with how enormously buxom the younger troll was. Not as big as Terezi herself, but close! She even had a similar figure.

Kirela came, in a lovely skirt-suit that clung quite close to her figure (thick, even by generous troll standards) and she bowed low. “My empress, why didn’t you call!” She made like she was about to hug her, but restrained the impulse. She blushed, and settled for smiling wide, especially as her own pregnant belly began to swell, eggs spontaneously generating just by being near Terezi. She tried not to swoon from it.

Terezi chuckled, quite fond of her; Kirela had been born when Terezi hadn’t even successfully conquered the empire and set the Condesce into flight. Kirela was a beloved proof of concept, the result of a successful cloning plot to resurrect lost bloodlines and caste spectrums… and her eyes were a bright, lime-green shade that was a victory over the ways of the old Alternia. Just by being alive, Kirela proved they could do better.

“Relax, I’m just checking in on things. Taking the boytoy out for a stroll!” She elbowed Karkat, laughing boisterously.

Karkat scoffed. “Hey, I am a CONSORT! ...Boytoys are temporary, and I’m for life.”

Kirela smirked, a hint of playfulness in her lime gaze. She looked a bit wistful; Terezi thought to ask about her own lover, a rather sarcastic and witty goldblood, but felt now wasn’t the time for personal enquiries. Imperial business called. “I got an update; seems we got my royal duty to take care of?”

Kirela’s eyes widened. “Oh! Well, you’re not strictly required to take time to deal with THAT, my imperial curvaceousness!”

Karkat turned a look towards Terezi. “Come on… you’re not REALLY gonna make people say that, are you?”

Terezi snickered playfully. She didn’t answer him, though. To Kirela, she said, “Listen up, I’m STARVING and the sooner we handle this, the better. All right?”

Kirela nodded. “As you wish! I’ll make the arrangements promptly!”

She left, some senior handmaidens with her, and took the two of them to a distant part of the ship; a high security one, with many guards (most of them either very big, or looking that way with their powered armor to bulk up, and with weapons to match) nodding respectfully at them. Karkat, the greatest of the Empress’ guardians, gave a few of them orders on proper etiquette with weapon handling in his loud tones that would be vitriolic if you didn’t listen to what he was actually saying.

Eventually, they came to a large cell, packed with Condesce loyalists, all of them with wanted posters and bounties. Karkat advanced before Terezi’s gravid gut, her belly advanced just fast enough to prod him onwards, and otherwise cleared the room ahead of her.

Kirela left, to make the necessary preparations; sign the paperwork, finalize the execution rites, announce the ‘hah hah, the Condesce-supporting bastards got what’s coming to them’, and so on. Terezi made herself comfortable, lounging on a throne wheeled out to her by an especially large human woman. Terezi grinned at her, a long time ally from a time when Terezi had sought refuge on Earth, in more uncertain times. “Jade!” She lunged forward, hugging her. Jade giggled, and it was amazing to see Terezi actually lift her up; standard issue armor could only be modified so much, and it looked nearly tight against Jade’s absolutely massive massive body, her shoulders wide, her frame all amazonian hugeness, and her breasts gigantic spheres easily four feet high, and five feet across each! And, just like every woman there, her closeness to Terezi made her extremely pregnant.

She hugged her empress like the old friend she was. In the background, some of the other guards (all trusted confideants and supporters) waved cheerfully to Terezi. Karkat nodded to them, welcoming them by name: “Hey, Chahut” to a very buxom and enormous oliveblood that winked at them, “Xefros, stop saluting!” to a hunky violetblood with a wedding ring on his finger, “Nepeta! Back from the fringes?” In the meantime, Terezi’s handmaidens spread out, both to act as the guardians they were trained as, and to say hello to their friends among the guards here as well. (One of the male handmaids, a human named Dave, sidled up to Jade as she simply picked him up and kissed him in an extremely passionate way. Not entirely professional, but Terezi liked it relaxed.)

This last came to a fairly short but extremely curvy, and buxom, blueblood. She was still wearing the official uniform not of a guard, but of a renegade hunter; a dark coat, in Terezi’s colors, and armor beneath. Most of it did an insufficient job of fully covering her figure and pregnant belly, which was just too expansive for most tailors to deal with. Nepeta Moolah saluted them both, bouncing a bit as she did.

“My Empress!” she said to Terezi, and indicated the prisoners. “Brought you a real FEAST today!”

Ah, so Nepeta was responsible for today’s offering. Terezi gave her a high five. “Good work, Nepeta!”

“All’s in a day’s work, your imperial thiccness!” Nepeta stood back in a guard position, ready to help in the upcoming festivities if she had to.

As Kirela and the other administrators attended to the prisoners, Terezi let herself relax, and her mind wander.

Her poise softened. Her public guise was not needed her, witness only to friends, close allies and those that the world would prosper from their deaths. She abandoned it, the act she personally thought of as Badass But Reliable Empress. The whole point of that particular persona was to be imposing but… friendly, she supposed? It involved a lot of swagger, mostly metaphorically but plenty physically. She could swagger while standing still.

She leaned back, enjoying the sensations of being a mother, the eggs and babies cramming her gestation guts, the way they were packed together so tightly, the light of their growing complexity a pleasant reminder to her.

They could be anything she wanted, whispered a faint voice in the back of her mind. Or perhaps her stomach, like the ghost of a meal that was yet to fully digest. There was some truth to that, and she tried to ignore it.

Terezi had a secret, that not even anyone else there knew. That the immense power she harbored, that she said made her a guardian to all the universe, came from something terrible and… she didn’t even know what it was.

Old texts called the empty, heartless man on the moon the First Guardian of history. One of many, they said.

Though not, as it turned out, immune to the digestion and power assimilation of a fuchsiablood.

Even so, the curl of power, resting in the back of her mind, was always there. And every day, she resisted the urge to fully exploit it. The power to mold her mind into whatever shape she wanted, and the temptation to look forward and shape the future.

Tweak circumstances, random factors, and force her will onto all reality. Make it so that her desires became the future, her hopes molding fate into her own design.

It wasn’t the only power at her disposal. Without thinking too much about it, Terezi exhaled and floated gently into the air, a fuchsia aura gathering around her as she floated up, her immense bulk moving with a surprising amount of grace.

This wasn’t psionics. She had psionics, and this was something else. It was something… older.

She had not told her attendants about this. She had only vaguely told Karkat about it, and she felt guilty about hiding anything from her first and closest confidant.

“I found something on the moon,” she told him once, felt digesting in her belly and the outraged screams of a bested god still loud in her memory. ‘I think we might be able to push the time table on my plan to take things over from the Empress.”

Karkat had looked at her, puzzled and afraid. “How!?”

She had grinned, flexed her hand, and with a thought-

She ripped the entire fortress out of the ground and launched them into space, traveling millions of miles in a few seconds. “I got a bit of a boost.”

Some of the things Terezi had seen in the visions pestering her suggested that there would be consequences towards devouring the… the strange little demon she had digested on the moon. It had been a just thing, killing the creature that had wronged her people so badly. But, if the words from the grateful and ancient rustblood were right… there would be consequences to absorbing the powers of what a few ruined ancient texts called a First Guardian.

Well. That was a later problem.

“Dinner’s up!” Jade said cheerfully as Kirela waved in the guards, and a large number of prisoners. They all had a uniform look; most of them were highbloods (violets, blues and ceruleans, a few in midblood shades, and a sly rust), and they all looked to have been well-fed. Well, until recently, deprived of the comforts and luxuries of grinding people down with the Condesce’s high heeled fascist boot.

Terezi leaned back, jutting her massive belly out, and the hunger twisted so hard it was like her spine was trying to escape. “Your crimes,” she said, though she was so very hungry, and was still committed to her laws. “Are many. Most relevant is aiding and abetting the former Empress, now in exile. Helping her at the expense of, I dunno, literally everyone else in the entire Empire; that puts you, by proxy, guilty of her own crimes. Attempted xenocide, participating in xenocide, the torment of lowbloods, perpetuating the corrupt order of Alternia before me…” Terezi whistled. “And we know the penalty for that.” She smacked her lips. Her guts rumbled. “Don’t we.”

Terezi zeroed in on the rustblood, who was patently ignoring her. “Nepeta…?” The blueblood in question swaggered forward and picked up the rustblood, forcing him over to Terezi. The other prisoners jerked back as the guards raised their weapons to forestall any escape, and the rustblood yelped as Nepeta dragged him over Terezi’s belly.

“What are you doing!?” he demanded. She scanned his mind, and found enough evidence of his crimes to support her belief that he was, by far, the most unjust of them all. It sickened her, but the evil ones tasted really good, and digested so well.

A perfect demonstration!

Ooh. He was chunky. Terezi cooed as she felt his biceps and chest drag across her massive breasts, and she grinned as he recoiled from her impossibly soft body, and the abyssal cold of her body temperature. She gave him no more words, but took a telekinetic grip on him, and pushed him up-

Just as she opened her mouth as wide as possible.

His head slid right into her throat, and she swallowed him whole, not bothering to savor him much. She was too hungry, she was burning! She needed food, now! The babies were HUNGRY! His horns slipped and her throat squeezed him, pushing him so fast he was almost launched into her gut

The prisoners recoiled, the guards watched in mild interest, and Karkat sat loyally beside her, ready to defend her if he had to, and she gulped, dropping her meal right into her belly. It didn’t even make a bulge. She sighed as her digestive fluids went to work; fully capable of melting down even a starship, mere troll flesh and bone had no chance. In seconds, he was digested, and Terezi visibly grew slightly taller.

Mostly, it was just her breasts that swelled up, and her stomach ripple with pleasure. “Mmm… my favorite part of the job.” She batted her eyes, licking her lips again. She felt the tension from the prisoners rise as they now surely understood. There was no hope, no escape. There was nothing for them, but the absolute digestion they had no doubt sent thousands to in their stead, for the Condesce.

She tasted the desperation, and took her moment.

“But justice requires mercy, and I AM justice for all the Empire. So… beg mercy of me, and I will show it to you. I will give you…” she savored the words, and the double meanings she hid. “A second chance.”

A violetblood, more brave than sensible and she couldn’t fault him for that, spat at the ground. “Never!”

Terezi grinned. Bronya, on cue, easily tossed him forwards and he landed right between Terezi’s breasts, with a sloshing sound of her milk disturbed. Her hunger was sated enough that Terezi allowed herself to tease him with a sloppy kiss, the violet’s eyes going wide. Then, she sucked in, and his face and horns vanished into her suddenly gaping jaws.

She enjoyed his taste, slowly and irresistibly gulping him down. He went gradually, her tongue and her mental powers examining every inch of his body and mind, tasting him very intimately

For several minutes, she slurped him like a very meaty noodle, and her breasts pillowed up as he was pushed down. Higher and higher, as his shoulders vanished, than his hips, and his legs. With an increasingly louder slurping sound, Terezi swallowed him up, and finally with a single smack, her breasts were back to their regular height. And she had another meal in her belly.

“You sure no one wants to admit, just maybe, they were wrong?” Terezi said, and gave a mental push. Be honest, she commanded.

Again, and not to her surprise, no one said anything, but a few wavered. She gestured, picking out a few that would not relent, and opened her mouth. One, a tealblood significantly larger than she was, strained her maw as she swallowed her whole, slowly working her curling horns down her throat, and expanding her jaws to fit her all down..

Terezi’s own breasts swelled as the tealblood’s biomass was stuffed right into them.

Then a violet, her blood hue dark enough to almost be purple. She was cunning enough to meekly be still until she was inside Terezi’s throat, and then she tried to use her curved horns to best advantage and tear at Terezi’s insides. Her throat easily absorbed the damage, but Terezi gave credit where it was due. She swallowed in a single gulp, making her own point pretty plain.

Her belly swelled, pressing into her motherly thighs. The hunger faded to a tolerable degree.

She kept eating though, more and more unrepentant prisoners ferried to her unforgiving gullet. A yellowblood; two more teals (one tall, one mid-sized, both plump). Three purplebloods, and they tasted so evil Terezi couldn’t help but devour them all in a single gulp, teary-eyed at how good they tasted, and her body almost triple-bloating with their mass as they went down.

More and more were swallowed, and slowly the group twindled. Terezi kept an eye on their attitudes, gave them the right push here and there, focusing on the ones who could have been hers if not for the wrong sort of choices, if only they’d had a REAL empress to lead them… a good mother.

And finally, her plan bore fruit.

Several of the villains trembled, as perhaps only five of them were left, out of what had been a group of thirty, and then a buxom purpleblood cried out, “Mercy, your imperial perceptiveness! Mercy, mercy!”

Another tried to headbutt her. “You treacherous worm!”

Terezi waved her hand, and all the prisoners but the weeping purpleblood were pushed away. The purpleblood advanced, tears staining her face, and though she was nearly three times Terezi’s size, she fell to her knees before her, head bowed and body trembling.

“My empress,” the purpleblood begged. “Please, I plead to you! I throw myself on your mercy, please!”

Terezi, a swell of pity rising, put a calm thought in her brain, with a hunt of chucklevoodoos boosted to overwhelm even a purpleblood’s defenses. She gaped, and then her head drooped, a dopey smile on her face. “Anyone else certain they want none off my mercy?”

The others capitulated, and fast. One after another, the last prisoners all pleaded, sinking to their knees. Even the one that had called the first mercy-seeker a traitor went to her own knees as well, fear and, perhaps a bit of remorse claiming her resolve.

Terezi gently but firmly hit them with a dose of the chucklevoodoos, and they too gave in.

She extended her mind out, and commanded them to stand up. She worked a minor, mild change to them, briefly making them glow in her blood color. “You’ll have a second chance. You will get your second chance, when your time comes. Now, come here…”

The first one approached her, expression vacant. Terezi floated her up, and opened her mouth wide again.

The other prisoners, rendered into a stupor, gave no reaction and felt no fear. The prisoner in Terezi’s grip smiled faintly, perhaps just at the sight of such impressive cleavage.

Terezi appeared to kiss the prisoner. It looked that way even a she inhaled her heads, her horns. Terezi’s throat bulged as she took the rest of the prisoner in, slowly swallowing her in a sweet, tender gulp. The prisoner was examined minutely, every part of her mind examined in full, her history analyzed.

...Ah. If only this one had the chance to make the right choices.

Terezi gently swallowed, pulling the prisoner fully into her belly. The prisoner curled up, allowing her doom to take her, and though Terezi’s belly had swelled with the prisoner’s sheer bulk, it soon shrank as she was digested in minutes.

Terezi did not allow the soul of her meal to be lost, though, or to be consumed. SHe instead diverted it, absorbing it.

And a new egg appeared in her gestation guts, along with a couple of hundred others that had been gradually impregnated in her by the essence of today’s meals. And the prisoner would indeed get a new chance, and a new life.

Terezi smiled, beckoning the other prisoners.

One after another, with slow and sweet patience, Terezi swallowed them too, and devoured them. It felt almost a sacred thing, a redemptive thing, and she beamed to think that one day, they would be her children. Her belly swelled bigger with each one, eggs multiplying by the hundreds as her fertility influenced the developing eggs and making more.

Five prisoners, than just four. Three now.

Two.

And then, slowly digesting in the pit of her belly, there were none at all. But there were many more eggs, and Terezi’s breasts, her hips, swelled with even greater fecundity.

Jade wiggled, Nepeta squirmed, and Chahut failed to stifle a faint rumble. All the handmaidens did, too. Metal creaked, fabric stretched, and breasts expanded. Nepeta and Jade both felt up their own hips and backsides as they swelled with sudden fertile expansiveness, the armor of Chahut became FAR together and rather insubstantial for her swelling assets, and every single woman in the room grew even more curvaceous, a faint echo of Terezi’s own fertility. The handmaidens… well, they required a lot of them to repair their clothes afterwards.

Kirela squeaked as her skirt strained, and several buttons popped off her suit when her breasts swelled four sizes bigger, literally ballooning outwards! She blushed, beaming and wiggling in place.

Terezi lounged back, feeling quite satisfied, and closed her eyes.

Her eggs were growing faster, her babies were fed. Yet more justice had been served, making herself stronger in the process.

And one day, perhaps far in the future…

Her ancestor would meet the same fate.

Terezi picked up Karkat, leaning back and giving him a kiss. “We are making things happening~!”