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weight-gain-stories-lena · 5 days ago

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TALE FROM AVANOHILL ELYNIEL AND DURFUN

Female Elf Feedee and Male Dwarf Feeder

-Part 1-

In the rugged and mysterious world of Avanohill, where towering human kingdoms clashed with the brutal orcish warcamps, troll hordes roamed the highlands, and the ancient elven woods whispered with timeless secrets, a tale began that no bard would ever dare to forget. This story was not of mighty armies or magical relics, but of two unlikely souls drawn together by fate.

Durfun, son of Darfun, was a dwarf unlike any other. Born of the Terra Mountains, his body was as if carved from stone, his beard a stormy gray that seemed to carry the weight of iron itself. His voice rumbled like rocks grinding deep beneath the earth. But unlike his kin, who lived and died swinging pickaxes and forging steel in the echoing caverns, Durfun's heart yearned for the unknown. He was an adventurer, a dwarf with a soul restless as a mountain stream.

One fateful day, his wandering feet carried him too far from the craggy peaks of his homeland. In the dense, emerald maze of the Elven Woods, he stumbled—quite literally—into trouble. A cunning boar trap, crafted with the precision only elven hands could achieve, snapped shut and hoisted him into the air, leaving him dangling upside down like a prize fish.

"Blasted twiggy traps! Release me, ye forest vermin! I’ll be havin' yer necks fer this!" Durfun roared in his harsh dwarfish tongue, thrashing like a caught bear. His gruff curses echoed through the trees, startling birds and amusing a silent observer.

From the shadows stepped Elyniel, the youngest princess of the elven royal family. Her silver hair glistened in the dappled sunlight, and her emerald eyes gleamed with mischief. She studied the snarling, gray-bearded dwarf with a tilted head and a sly grin.

"Strange," she said with a soft laugh, her voice as musical as the rustling leaves. "I see no difference between you and a wild boar. Perhaps we should leave you here for the hunters."

Durfun froze for a moment, then let out a booming laugh that shook the nearby trees. "Aye, lass, ye've got a tongue sharp as elven steel! But if ye’d be so kind, I’d prefer me feet on the ground!"

Elyniel, charmed by the dwarf’s rough humor, cut him down. From that moment, an unexpected bond formed between them. She was drawn to his rugged charm and the fierce honesty in his eyes. He admired her wit, her grace, and the courage that lay beneath her delicate exterior.

Over the following weeks, Durfun found himself visiting the Elven Woods more often, each time sharing tales of the mountains and his adventures. In return, Elyniel revealed the ancient wonders of her homeland. They laughed, argued, and slowly, without realizing it, fell deeply in love.

But love between a dwarf and an elf was a fragile thing, like a single flame in a storm. It was unheard of, and they both knew the challenges they would face. When Elyniel agreed to visit Durfun’s home, the Terra Mountains, she did so with hope in her heart but uncertainty in her mind.

The journey was long, and when they finally reached the massive iron gates of the dwarven stronghold, Durfun felt a rare pang of doubt. The halls of the Terra Mountains were as grand as they were unyielding. Stone walls stretched endlessly, carved with the history of his people, and the air was thick with the heat of molten metal and the scent of earth.

Elyniel’s arrival stirred the entire mountain. Dwarves gathered in clusters, their eyes wide with shock as they beheld the elven princess walking beside one of their own. Whispers filled the halls like a growing storm.

In the council chamber, the tension was palpable. The council of the oldest dwarves, led by King Darfun himself, stared down at the couple. The king’s eyes, dark as coal and heavy with the wisdom of centuries, fixed on his son.

"Durfun, son of Darfun," the king growled, his voice a thunderous echo. "Ye bring shame to these halls. A dwarf courts the daughter of the woods? Aye, 'tis madness!"

Durfun stepped forward, unshaken. "Madness, ye say? I call it bravery! This elf—Elyniel—she's more dwarf in spirit than many o’ these stone-bellied fools here! She stands tall, even knowin' what waits fer her here."

Elyniel bowed her head respectfully, her voice calm yet resolute. "I come not to divide your kin but to unite. If love between us can build a bridge, then let me take the first step."

The council murmured among themselves, but Darfun raised a hand for silence. His gaze hardened as he spoke. "If ye want her to be one o' us, she must prove it. The Ritual of Love must be performed."

The room fell silent. Durfun’s heart sank. The Ritual of Love was a tradition as ancient as the mountains themselves. For centuries, dwarf women who wished to marry underwent the ritual, a symbolic act of devotion. It involved consuming the rich, hearty meals of the dwarves over centuries, transforming their bodies to mirror the immovable strength of the mountains.

Elyniel blinked, her composure momentarily faltering. "And what would this ritual entail for one such as I?"

Darfun’s eyes narrowed. "The food, lass. Made fer dwarfs and dwarfs alone. Fer you, it’ll change ye quicker than the seasons. Ye'll give up the life ye know, become bound to our ways."

Durfun stepped between his father and Elyniel, his voice firm. "She won’t be doin' it. Not fer me, not fer anyone! I’ll stand by her, Ritual or no."

Elyniel placed a hand on his shoulder, her voice soft but steady. "Durfun, if this is the way, then so be it. For us, for unity, I will try."

The council erupted into heated arguments, but Darfun slammed his fist on the stone table, silencing them. "Enough! If she is to prove herself, then let her face the ritual. But mark my words, boy—this is a path with no return."

Elyniel met Durfun’s worried gaze with a reassuring smile. She was ready to face whatever lay ahead, but even the unshakable mountains trembled at the unknown.

-Part 2-

The council chamber was silent, the only sound the faint crackle of a nearby brazier. King Darfun, a mountain of a dwarf with a beard like woven iron and eyes carved from stone, leaned back in his massive throne, his gaze heavy upon his son and the elf who dared to stand beside him. He exhaled deeply, the weight of ages filling the air like smoke.

"Durfun," he growled, his voice as deep as the mines beneath their feet. "Ye’re me son, and there’s no denyin’ the strength of yer heart. But yer foolishness? It’s a danger to yer blood and to this mountain."

Durfun squared his shoulders, standing tall despite being a head shorter than his towering father. "Foolishness? Ye call love foolishness, Da? I’ve made me choice, and it’s her."

Darfun’s dark eyes shifted to Elyniel, who met his gaze with quiet determination. She stood tall, slender as a willow yet unbending as steel.

"Ye speak of love," Darfun said slowly, "but have ye any notion of what ye ask? Let me tell ye a tale, lass. A tale o’ me own wife—Franji o’ the Crystal Caves."

Durfun stiffened, his fists clenching at his sides. He knew this story well, but the way his father spoke, he realized it wasn’t a tale meant to honor Franji this time. It was a weapon.

Darfun gestured for the council to be silent as he began, his voice echoing through the chamber like the rumble of a landslide.

"Franji was the pride o’ the Crystal Caves, her beauty rivalin’ the gemstones that grew there. Her hair shimmered like silver veins in the rock, and her laughter could make the coldest stone feel warm. I loved her from the moment I laid eyes on her, though she was like many o’ our women—hardheaded and unyieldin’ as granite."

A faint smile crossed Darfun’s face, but it quickly faded. "When I asked fer her hand, the council spoke as it does now. The Ritual of Love, they said. She agreed, willin’ to honor the ways o’ our people. And she did it with pride. She ate the meals crafted by dwarves, meals made fer strength, fer endurance. Meals that bind us to the mountain itself."

Darfun’s gaze darkened. "Day by day, she changed. Her arms once swung pickaxes and carved stone; now they could barely lift a cup. Her legs, once swift and steady, grew heavy as lead. Until one day, she couldnae leave the chamber we shared. And there she has stayed, immovable as the mountains we call home."

Durfun’s jaw tightened. "Ye make it sound like a curse, Da, but it’s not. She gave herself to the mountain, to ye, and to me. She’s still there, growin’ stronger in spirit every day."

Darfun ignored his son’s words, his eyes locked on Elyniel. "Franji lies beneath these halls even now, her body vast as a cavern, her breath as slow and deep as the earth’s. I visit her often, lass, and though she loves me still, I see the life she left behind weighin’ heavy in her eyes. This is what the ritual means. A bond o’ love so unbreakable that it binds ye to this mountain, body and soul. Can ye face that? Can ye face the years o’ watchin’ yerself become somethin’ else, somethin’ not elf but somethin’ not quite dwarf either?"

The chamber fell silent. Even the council, who had been so loud with their protests, waited for Elyniel’s response.

Durfun looked to her, his face a mix of anger and desperation. "Ye don’t have to prove anythin’, Elyniel. Not to him, not to the council, and not to me. If ye walk away, I’ll walk with ye."

Elyniel stepped forward, her emerald eyes shining like stars in the dim chamber. She bowed low before King Darfun, her voice steady and unwavering.

"King Darfun, I honor your words and the story of your wife, Franji. I see now the weight of the ritual, the sacrifice it demands. But I also see its meaning—the devotion, the bond that transcends all else. I do not take this lightly. But if this is what it takes to stand beside your son, to be part of your people, then I will do it."

Darfun’s eyes narrowed, studying her as though trying to find cracks in her resolve. "Ye understand what ye sayin’, lass? There’s no goin’ back once it begins."

"I understand," Elyniel said, her voice clear and calm. "And I am ready."

The council erupted into murmurs once more, but Darfun silenced them with a single raised hand. He leaned forward in his throne, his gaze piercing.

"Very well," he said at last. "Ye’ve chosen yer path. But know this, elf. Once ye take the first step, ye’ll belong to this mountain. And it will belong to ye."

Elyniel met his gaze without flinching. "Then let the mountain and I become one."

-Part 3-

The heavy silence of the council chamber pressed down like the weight of the mountain itself. Elyniel’s resolute words hung in the air, echoing off the cold stone walls. Durfun stood beside her, his chest swelling with pride and defiance, while the council murmured in discontent.

Darfun sat unmoving in his iron throne, his gaze fixed on the elf before him. To the old king, her slender form seemed so fragile, so out of place amidst the unyielding strength of the dwarven halls. Her pointed ears and graceful features marked her as an outsider, an interloper. Yet there she stood, unshaken, her emerald eyes burning with conviction.

For a long while, Darfun said nothing, his face a mask of stone. Then, slowly, he rose to his feet, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over the room. His deep voice rumbled like the grinding of boulders.

“Yer bold, lass,” he said, his tone heavy with skepticism. “I’ll give ye that. Standin’ here in these ancient halls, facin’ me an’ the council, claimin’ ye’d take a step that no elf has ever dared. But boldness alone won’t keep ye when the weight o’ the mountain presses down on ye, when the choice ye’ve made cannae be undone.”

He stepped closer, his iron boots striking the stone floor with a slow, deliberate rhythm. “Do ye ken what ye’re standin’ in the face o’, twig-ear? Yer kind is light, fleet-footed, made fer the dance o’ the trees and the song o’ the winds. This place, these ways—they’re heavy. They’ll bind ye, crush ye, change ye until ye’ll scarcely recognize the elf ye were. And yet ye stand here, as proud as any stone-born dwarf.”

Elyniel straightened her posture, meeting his gaze without flinching. “I stand here because I love your son, King Darfun. And because I see the strength in your people, in your traditions. If I can earn your respect and his, I’ll face whatever comes. I will not break.”

Darfun studied her face, his sharp eyes searching for cracks in her resolve. He saw none. Instead, he saw something that made his chest tighten—a pride, not just in herself, but in the love she bore for his son. A love that burned brightly, as unshakable as the foundation of the mountain itself.

For a moment, Darfun felt a twinge of something unfamiliar. A begrudging admiration. A part of him wanted to mock her, to dismiss her as a foolhardy twig-eared dreamer who couldn’t possibly understand the life she was choosing. But another part—the part of him that remembered the fire in Franji’s eyes when she agreed to the ritual—could not deny the truth before him.

The old king sighed, the sound like the groan of shifting stone. He turned his gaze to Durfun, who stood at Elyniel’s side like a stubborn boulder, and then back to her.

“Lass,” he said, his voice softer now, though it still carried the weight of authority. “Ye’ve the fire of a mountain in ye, I’ll give ye that. But even fire can be snuffed out by the cold o’ the stone. I’ll not stop ye if this is the path ye’ve chosen, but I’ll not have ye takin’ it lightly, neither.”

He gestured to the council chamber and the ancient halls beyond. “I’ll give ye one day. One day to walk these halls, to feel the weight o’ the stone, to hear the voices o’ the mountain. One day to be sure this is the life ye want, fer there’s no turnin’ back once the first step is taken. Even a light-headed dwarf like me son deserves a partner who knows the depths o’ what she’s choosin’.”

Durfun opened his mouth to speak, but Darfun silenced him with a raised hand. “Hold yer tongue, boy. This isn’t about ye now. It’s about her.”

Elyniel bowed her head respectfully, her voice steady. “I accept your offer, King Darfun. I will walk these halls and reflect. But know this: my heart has already chosen. One day will not change that.”

Darfun grunted, his expression unreadable. He turned and strode back to his throne, his iron boots ringing out in the silent chamber. “We’ll see,” he said, settling into his seat. “We’ll see if yer heart’s made o’ stone, or if it’s just bark and air.”

Elyniel lifted her chin, her resolve unshaken. Durfun placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch both protective and reassuring. Together, they left the council chamber, the whispers of the dwarves following them like shadows.

Darfun watched them go, his expression softening ever so slightly. “Franji,” he muttered under his breath, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yer boy’s found himself a strange one. Let’s see if she’s got the strength to match that fire.”

-Part 4-

The halls of the Terra Mountains stretched endlessly, vast and echoing, their carved stone walls telling tales of ancient battles, great kings, and the unyielding strength of the dwarven people. The flickering glow of torches lit the path as Durfun led Elyniel deeper into the mountain, his stride steady and protective, his hand never straying far from the haft of his axe.

Elyniel followed close behind, her silver hair catching the firelight like strands of starlight. She felt the weight of countless eyes on her. Every dwarf they passed stopped in their tracks, their expressions a mixture of awe, confusion, and thinly veiled disapproval. Murmurs followed them like whispers carried by the wind.

“Is that an elf?”

“What’s she doin’ here?”

“Durfun’s lost his mind, bringin’ a twig-ear into the heart o’ the mountain!”

Durfun grumbled under his breath, his gray beard bristling like an angry storm cloud. “Pay no heed to their mutterin’, lass,” he said, glancing back at Elyniel. “They’re just not used to seein’ somethin’ so… delicate in these halls. But they’ll come 'round. Or I’ll knock some sense into 'em meself.”

Elyniel smiled faintly, though her heart felt heavy. The disapproving stares and whispered words stung, but she straightened her posture, refusing to let them see her falter. She had chosen this path, and she would walk it with dignity.

They stopped before a towering iron door, its surface engraved with intricate runes that glowed faintly in the dim light. Durfun pushed it open with a grunt, and the massive stone hinges groaned in protest. Beyond the door lay the Giant Hall.

Elyniel gasped softly as the sight unfolded before her. The hall was vast, larger than any structure she had ever seen, its ceiling vanishing into shadow far above. Enormous pillars of carved stone stretched upward like ancient trees, each one etched with the history of the dwarves. In the center of the hall stood a long table, laden with rich, steaming dishes that filled the air with a heady aroma of roasted meats, thick stews, and fresh-baked breads.

Durfun gestured to the table, his voice softer now. “This is what me father spoke of. The heart o’ the mountain. The meals that bind us to the stone, that forge our strength. They’re not just food, lass—they’re tradition, legacy, and life itself.”

Elyniel stepped closer, her sharp elven senses overwhelmed by the rich scents. She could smell the smokiness of cured meats, the tang of aged cheeses, the sweetness of honey-glazed breads. Her stomach churned slightly, not with hunger, but with the weight of the choice before her.

Durfun watched her carefully, his usually gruff expression softened by love. “This is what ye’d be givin’ yerself to,” he said quietly. “The mountain, the meals, the life o’ a dwarf. It’s no easy thing, lass, and ye’ll always feel like ye’re bein’ watched, like ye don’t belong. But I’ll be at yer side, no matter what. Ye’ll never face it alone.”

Elyniel turned to him, her emerald eyes meeting his stormy gray ones. “I didn’t come here expecting to belong, Durfun. I came here because I love you. And if this is your world, then I want to understand it, to be part of it—even if it means they’ll always see me as different.”

Durfun’s rough hand found hers, his calloused fingers gently wrapping around her slender ones. “Aye, lass,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “They may never understand, but I do. An’ that’s enough fer me.”

As they stood together in the Giant Hall, the disapproving gazes of the dwarves around them faded into the background. For a moment, it was just the two of them, surrounded by the history and strength of the mountain—and the love they shared, unshakable as the stone beneath their feet.

-Part 5-

The great stone halls of the Terra Mountains were quiet as the day came to an end, the light of the torches casting long, flickering shadows. Elyniel stood before the grand council chamber once more, her head held high despite the weariness in her limbs. The weight of the day had been immense—walking the halls, enduring the stares, the whispers, and the lingering judgment of the dwarves. But her heart remained steadfast.

Durfun stood at her side, his broad shoulders squared, his hand resting protectively on the hilt of his axe. He had said little since they left the Giant Hall, letting Elyniel’s resolve speak for itself. But now, as they stepped into the chamber, he cast a glance at her, his gray eyes filled with pride and unwavering support.

King Darfun sat upon his massive stone throne, his iron crown gleaming in the firelight. His face was as unreadable as the mountain itself, his dark eyes fixed on the elf who dared to challenge centuries of tradition. Around him, the council murmured quietly, their voices like the rustling of leaves in a storm.

Darfun raised a hand, and the chamber fell silent. He leaned forward, his iron ceptar clutched tightly in his hand, the metal gleaming with an ancient power. His voice was deep and rumbling, like the grinding of stone.

“Well, lass,” he began, his gaze piercing. “Ye’ve had yer day. Ye’ve walked our halls, smelt our meals, felt the weight o’ the mountain. And yet, here ye stand. So I’ll ask ye now, plain and true: Are ye still so sure o’ this choice? Are ye truly ready to give yerself to the mountain, to me son, and to the life that comes with it?”

Elyniel took a deep breath, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. She could feel the eyes of the council upon her, the skepticism, the disbelief. But she also felt Durfun’s presence beside her, solid and unwavering.

She stepped forward, her voice steady and clear. “I am sure, King Darfun. I have seen your halls, felt the strength of your people, and I understand the weight of what I am choosing. This is not just about me or even about Durfun—it is about the future. A future where dwarves and elves can stand together, where our people can find unity instead of division. I will honor your traditions, no matter how difficult, because I love your son. And because I believe that this choice can lead to something greater than both of us.”

The chamber was silent. Even the council, so quick to murmur and judge before, had nothing to say. All eyes turned to Darfun, who sat motionless in his throne, his face a mask of stone. For a long moment, he said nothing, the weight of his silence pressing down on everyone in the room.

Then, slowly, a deep rumble escaped his chest—a chuckle, low and gravelly. It grew louder, shaking the very walls of the chamber, until it became a booming laugh that echoed through the halls.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Darfun said, leaning back in his throne. “Ye’ve got more stone in ye than I gave ye credit for, twig-ear. I never thought I’d see the day an elf would stand before me and speak o’ unity, o’ love, with such fire in her heart. And I never thought I’d agree to somethin’ as mad as this.”

He straightened, his expression growing serious once more. “But if ye’ve got the strength to stand tall in the face o’ all this, then maybe, just maybe, ye’re worthy o’ the mountain.”

With that, Darfun raised his iron ceptar and brought it down with a thunderous stomp. The sound echoed through the chamber like the crack of a landslide, and immediately, doors began to open along the walls. Dwarves poured in, carrying massive trays laden with steaming dishes—roasted meats, thick stews, golden breads, and more, enough to feed an army.

“Let it be known!” Darfun bellowed, his voice filling the chamber. “Tonight, we feast! Fer the first time in our history, a dwarf an’ an elf will share in the Ritual o’ Love! Let the mountain bear witness to this union, and may it stand as strong as the stone beneath our feet!”

The chamber erupted into cheers, the dwarves raising their mugs and shouting their approval. Durfun turned to Elyniel, his rough hand finding hers, his eyes shining with love and pride.

“Ye’ve done it, lass,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Ye’ve stood taller than any mountain, and now, ye’ll be one with it. I’m proud o’ ye, more than words can say.”

Elyniel smiled, her heart swelling with hope and determination. “This is only the beginning, Durfun. For us, and for our people.”

As the feast began and the dwarves celebrated, Darfun watched from his throne, his stern face softened by a small, grudging smile. “Franji,” he muttered under his breath, his gaze distant. “Maybe there’s hope for our stubborn boy after all.”

-Part 6-

The grand hall buzzed with the sounds of celebration as dwarves reveled in the unprecedented union of their kin with an elf. Long tables groaned under the weight of lavish feasts, the air thick with the rich aromas of roasted meats, hearty stews, and freshly baked breads. Elyniel sat beside Durfun, her plate piled high with foods unfamiliar to her elven palate.

Determined to honor the dwarven traditions and her commitment to Durfun, Elyniel began to eat. Each bite was a new experience—the savory juices of the meats, the dense texture of the breads, the robust flavors of the stews. Accustomed to the light and fresh fare of her homeland, the heavy dishes were a stark contrast, and she felt her stomach protest as it filled more quickly than she anticipated.

Noticing her discomfort, Durfun leaned in, his voice gentle amidst the clamor. "Ye're doin' well, lass. Remember, it's not just about the food; it's about sharin' in our ways, becomin' part o' the mountain's heart."

Elyniel nodded, mustering a smile. She took another bite, chewing slowly, allowing herself to adjust to the richness of the meal. Durfun's hand rested reassuringly on her back, offering silent support.

As the evening wore on, Elyniel continued to partake in the feast, mindful of her limits but eager to show her dedication. The dwarves around them sang songs of old, their deep voices echoing through the hall, creating a tapestry of sound that spoke of unity and shared history.

Durfun watched her with pride, admiring her determination and grace. He knew the path they had chosen was uncharted and fraught with challenges, but in that moment, surrounded by their people and the warmth of the feast, he felt a glimmer of hope for their future together.

As the night drew to a close, Elyniel leaned into Durfun, her head resting on his sturdy shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered, "for standing by me."

Durfun kissed the top of her head, his beard brushing against her hair. "Always, Elyniel. Together, we'll forge a new path."

And so, amidst the fading songs and the dimming torchlight, the elf and the dwarf sat side by side, united in love and purpose, ready to face whatever the future held.

-Part 7-

The days of feasting in the Terra Mountains passed in a blur of song, laughter, and food. Elyniel, determined to honor her commitment to Durfun and the dwarven tradition, continued to partake in the endless array of rich meals. At first, she struggled to adjust to the heavy dishes, but her resolve never wavered, and with each passing day, she found herself indulging more willingly in the calorie-dense offerings.

After five days, her slender frame began to change. What had started as a modest roundness beneath her elfish dress soon became a noticeable bump, the fabric stretched taut over her belly. She caught her reflection in the polished stone walls and paused, her hands resting on the gentle curve. Durfun, ever by her side, placed his hands over hers, a proud smile breaking through his usually grim demeanor.

“Ye’re changin’, lass,” he said softly, his voice filled with admiration. “Becomin’ more a part o’ the mountain with every bite.”

By the tenth day, the bump had grown into a sagging plumpness that swayed slightly with her every step. Her hips, now wider and rounder, moved with a newfound heaviness that drew the curious eyes of the dwarves. Elyniel felt their stares but also their approval, a shift in the once-critical murmurs that had followed her upon her arrival.

“Look at her,” they whispered amongst themselves. “She’s takin’ to the mountain’s ways better than any elf we’ve ever seen.”

Durfun, standing proudly beside her, would respond to the whispers with a gruff laugh. “Aye, that’s me lass. Stronger than the hardest stone.”

By the fifteenth day, Elyniel’s arms grew heavier, soft and swollen, matching the growing weight of her belly. The fine elfish fabric she had worn so elegantly now clung tightly to her, the seams straining and the material unable to hide the pale, rounded expanse of her midsection. When she walked into the Great Hall, the dwarves erupted into chants of her name, their voices echoing with pride.

“Elyniel! Elyniel! The elf who’s one with the mountain!”

Her cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and pride swelling within her. Durfun, ever her steadfast companion, took her hand and kissed it. “They see what I see, lass. Ye’re somethin’ special.”

By the twentieth day, Elyniel found herself unable to rise from the great dwarven bed where she had spent her nights. Her body, now transformed by the weeks of feasting, had grown too heavy for her to stand unaided. Her belly hung low and round, a testament to her dedication, and her arms and legs had taken on a softness that was foreign to her once-slender frame. Yet, despite her immobility, she was not alone.

Durfun never left her side. Every moment, he was there, his rough hands gently rubbing her swollen belly, his deep voice whispering words of love and encouragement. He fed her himself, ensuring she never went without, his pride in her evident in every gesture.

“I love ye, Elyniel,” he said one night as he held her hand, his voice thick with emotion. “More than words can say. Ye’ve given up so much, become so much, all fer me. Fer us. Ye’ve proven yerself stronger than any elf—or dwarf—I’ve ever known.”

Tears filled Elyniel’s emerald eyes, her heart full despite the strain on her body. “And I love you, Durfun,” she replied, her voice soft but unwavering. “I would do it all again, a thousand times over, to be by your side.”

The dwarves, now fully accepting her as one of their own, continued to bring her meals, singing songs of her strength and unity with the mountain. Though her body had changed beyond recognition, her spirit remained unshaken, and her bond with Durfun only grew stronger.

And so, Elyniel lay amidst the warmth of the mountain, surrounded by the love of her chosen people and the unyielding devotion of her dwarf. Together, they had forged a union that would be remembered in the annals of both elven and dwarven history—a story of love, sacrifice, and the strength to bridge even the deepest divides.

-Part 8-

As the days stretched into weeks, the changes in Elyniel became impossible to ignore. The once-slender elf who had walked into the Terra Mountains with grace and poise was now almost unrecognizable. Her body had taken on the weight of her choice—both literally and figuratively—and she bore it with quiet dignity, though the transformation was unlike anything she could have imagined.

Every meal brought to her bed was richer and more decadent than the last. Roasted boar dripping in gravy, loaves of dense bread slathered in golden butter, sweet pastries soaked in honey—each bite was an offering to the ritual she had embraced. Elyniel ate with determination, her appetite growing insatiable as her body expanded to accommodate the relentless feasting.

Her belly was now a vast, heavy expanse of soft flesh, pale and marked with deep red stretch marks that traced across her skin like veins of molten stone through marble. The weight of it rested heavily against her thighs, rising and falling slightly with her breath. It had grown so large that it piled upon itself, creating rolls that spoke of the immense transformation she had undergone. Her elven dress, once elegant and flowing, had long since been discarded, replaced by dwarven-crafted garments that stretched and strained to contain her ever-growing form.

Durfun remained at her side constantly, his hands working tirelessly to soothe and rub her aching belly. He marveled at the changes, his rough voice filled with awe and pride. “Ye’re somethin’ out o’ legend now, lass,” he would say, his hands tracing the stretch marks with reverence. “No elf’s ever done what ye’ve done. The mountain’s claimed ye as its own.”

The dwarves, too, had come to revere her transformation. Songs were sung in her honor, tales told of the elf who had embraced the ways of the mountain so completely. Her name echoed through the halls alongside Durfun’s, the two of them becoming symbols of unity between their peoples.

Despite the strain on her body, Elyniel’s spirit remained unbroken. She smiled through the aches, her emerald eyes shining with love and determination. “This is for us,” she would tell Durfun, her voice soft but resolute. “For the future we’re building together.”

And Durfun would nod, his hand never leaving hers. “Aye, lass. Together, we’ll move mountains.”

Each day brought new growth, her body swelling larger and softer, her frame expanding to accommodate the constant flow of rich dwarven meals. The chamber where she lay had been adjusted to suit her new size, the bed reinforced and the space filled with cushions and blankets to keep her comfortable. And though she could no longer rise on her own, she was never alone. Durfun’s love and the acceptance of the dwarves surrounded her like the stone walls of the mountain itself—unshakable, eternal, and enduring.

Her journey was far from over, but Elyniel knew one thing for certain: she had found her place, not just by Durfun’s side, but as a part of the mountain and its people, her transformation a testament to her love and dedication. And with each bite, each song, and each whispered word of devotion, she felt that bond grow stronger, as unyielding as the stone beneath them.

-Part 9-

Elyniel’s days blurred together in a haze of endless feasting and growing discomfort. The weight of her body had reached a point where every movement, every breath, felt heavy, as though she was carrying the weight of the very mountains themselves. Her once graceful movements had become slow and laborious, her frame now swollen beyond recognition. Yet still, she ate. Even when her stomach ached, when the pressure of each bite felt unbearable, she continued to consume the rich, caloric meals the dwarves brought to her.

She didn’t know how to stop. To stop eating, to refuse the food, would feel like rejecting Durfun’s love. Every bite, every mouthful, every moment of indulgence felt like an affirmation of her place by his side, an offering of her devotion to him and the life they were building together. To her, there was no other way. This was how she showed love—through the act of eating, of filling herself with the very essence of the dwarven world. She had no other measure of affection, no other way to express her commitment.

Durfun remained constant beside her, never once doubting her, never once questioning the choices she had made. His love for her was unwavering, his admiration for her strength growing with each passing day. He had watched her body expand, her delicate elf form becoming a soft, round representation of the choices she had made for him, for them. He never spoke of the pain or discomfort she must have felt. Instead, he only ever whispered encouragements, reassuring her that she was beautiful, that she was perfect just as she was.

“Ye’re stronger than any stone, lass,” he would murmur, his rough hand rubbing her swollen belly as she ate yet another plate of rich food. “I’ve never seen anyone as determined as ye.”

Elyniel would smile weakly, the stretch marks on her belly more pronounced with every passing day. “I want to show you, Durfun,” she would say softly. “I want to prove my love for you… for us. I don’t know how to be anything else.”

Durfun would nod, understanding the silent language of love that they had created together. He didn’t care for the changes in her body. To him, Elyniel was beautiful, not because of her shape, but because of the love she gave so freely. To him, she was a symbol of unity, a testament to the possibility of bridging the gap between their worlds.

But as Elyniel continued to eat, the toll on her body grew ever more apparent. Her once-elven features were hidden beneath layers of softness. Her arms were thick and heavy, her face round and puffy. She had become immobile, unable to rise from the massive dwarven bed that was now her world. Her belly, once a gentle curve, now hung heavily over her legs, its size so vast that it felt impossible to support any longer. Yet, she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop.

Each bite was another moment of connection, of love. She didn’t care about the pain, the discomfort, or the changes in her body. She had chosen this path, and as long as Durfun was by her side, it was the only path that mattered. To her, eating was more than just consumption—it was a ritual of devotion, an offering of her spirit to the mountain and to the man she loved.

Durfun, seeing the strain on her face, would press a gentle kiss to her forehead, his heart full of love. “Ye’ve given me more than I ever could’ve asked for, Elyniel. Ye’ve shown me a love I never thought possible. Don’t ye worry, lass. We’ll face this together.”

And so, even as the weight of her body grew unbearable, even as the pain of each bite became a reminder of her sacrifice, Elyniel ate. It was her way of showing love, her way of connecting with Durfun, her way of proving that nothing, not even the immense toll it took on her body, could break the bond they had formed. She would continue to eat, continue to expand, and continue to love—no matter the cost—because in her heart, it was all worth it.

-Part 10-

The passage of days was no longer measured by sunrises or the movement of the moon but by the steady rhythm of Elyniel’s transformation. In less than a month, her body had grown so immense, so expansive, that it seemed she had become one with the mountain itself. Her once-delicate elven frame was now enveloped in soft, pale skin that glistened under the warm glow of the dwarven hall’s braziers. Her stretch marks, deep and crimson, were like rivers carved into a map of her sacrifice—a living testament to her love and dedication.

Elyniel’s arms, once graceful and slender, had sunk deeply into the plush mass of her sides, rendering them immobile. Her legs, too, had disappeared beneath the ever-growing folds of her form, their shape lost to the sheer enormity of her figure. She was no longer able to feed herself, her limbs incapable of lifting even the lightest plate. But she didn’t mind. There was beauty in this surrender, in allowing Durfun to care for her so completely.

Durfun had taken to his role with unyielding devotion. Seated at her side, he would gently lift each bite to her lips, his rough, calloused hands contrasting with the softness of her body. Every morsel he offered her was delivered with love, his gaze filled with pride and awe as he watched her eat. Her cheeks were round and full, her lips soft as she accepted each bite. The dwarven meals were richer than ever, crafted with care by the finest cooks in the mountain, ensuring that every swallow was a delight.

Her belly was the most prominent feature of her transformation, a vast, magnificent expanse that rose before her like a living mountain. It stretched outward and downward, pooling around her in soft, rolling folds. The pale white of her skin was adorned with those vivid red stretch marks that told the story of her growth, a story of love and unity. Her belly was so large that it seemed to dominate the room, its sheer size both awe-inspiring and humbling. And yet, it was not grotesque—it was beautiful, a symbol of her unbreakable bond with Durfun and the dwarven people.

Her breath came slow and deep, her chest rising and falling with effort, but her expression remained serene. Elyniel’s emerald eyes sparkled with love and contentment as she gazed at Durfun, her lips curving into a soft smile even as her body demanded more. She felt no shame, no regret—only an overwhelming sense of fulfillment. She had given herself entirely to this new life, to this new form, and she knew she was cherished beyond measure.

Durfun never faltered in his care for her. His hands, rough from years of mining and crafting, were impossibly gentle as they massaged the taut skin of her belly, soothing her and helping her relax as she digested yet another feast. “Yer more beautiful than the finest gem,” he whispered, his voice low and reverent. “The mountain itself couldn’t craft somethin’ as perfect as ye.”

Elyniel’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper, as she replied. “I only have this beauty because of you, Durfun. You’ve given me strength I didn’t know I had.”

The dwarves, who had once looked upon her with skepticism, now revered her as a living legend. Songs were sung in her honor, and tales of her devotion spread far beyond the Terra Mountains. She had become more than just an elf who had embraced dwarven traditions—she had become a symbol of love’s ability to bridge even the deepest divides.

And so, Elyniel continued to grow, her body expanding with each passing day. Yet within her, there was no emptiness, no despair. She was filled with love, with purpose, with the unshakable bond she shared with Durfun. Her transformation was not a loss but a gain—a testament to the power of love, sacrifice, and unity. And as long as Durfun was by her side, feeding her, caring for her, and loving her with every fiber of his being, she knew she had found her true place in the world.

-Part 11-

A full year had passed since Elyniel had embraced the dwarven ritual of love, and her transformation was nothing short of mythical. Her body had expanded to such an incomprehensible size that even the grand halls of the Terra Mountains seemed small in comparison. The bed that once held her had been replaced by a massive stone platform, reinforced with steel beams to bear the weight of her enormous, mountain-like figure. She had become a living colossus, her form soft and rounded, yet monumental, her presence both humbling and awe-inspiring.

Her belly was her crowning feature, an impossibly vast expanse of pale, dimpled flesh. It stretched outward in every direction, spilling over the edges of the platform like molten stone. The stretch marks that adorned her skin were no longer small lines but great crimson streaks that spanned meters across, like fiery rivers etched into the alabaster landscape of her body. Her belly button had deepened into a cavernous hollow, so vast that a dwarf could have climbed into it as though exploring an uncharted cave. Her arms, heavy and immobile, rested at her sides, swallowed by the plushness of her body, while her legs were completely hidden beneath the folds of her belly and hips. She had truly become the embodiment of dwarven indulgence.

And yet, amidst all of this, there was no shame or regret in Elyniel. She lay with pride, her emerald eyes glowing with satisfaction and joy, her heart full of love for the life she had chosen. Durfun, her devoted husband, was perched atop her enormous belly, looking like a tiny ant against the immensity of her form. His dark gray beard swayed as he laughed and sang songs to her, his hands busy rubbing her soft, stretched skin as he fed her yet another bite of roasted meat dripping in gravy.

“Eat up, lass,” he growled warmly, his voice carrying a tone of pride and affection. “Every bite makes ye more o’ the mountain, more mine. Ye’ve become a legend, Elyniel. The mountain sings yer name.”

Elyniel smiled, her cheeks round and rosy, her lips parting as she accepted the next bite. “I’ve never felt more alive, Durfun. This is who I was meant to be.”

But this peaceful scene was interrupted one day when a visitor arrived at the great halls of the Terra Mountains. Erondin, Elyniel’s father and the proud king of the Old Elf Woods, had come to see his daughter. He had heard whispers of her transformation, rumors that he refused to believe. He had expected to find her slightly heavier, perhaps more dwarven in manner, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw as he entered the hall.

Erondin’s ever-composed, regal face went slack with shock as his eyes fell upon the vast, immovable form of his daughter. His jaw dropped, and his expression was a mix of disbelief, horror, and grief. Before him was not the slender, graceful elf he had raised but a figure so enormous that she seemed more a force of nature than a person. The sight of her stretched skin, her deep belly button, her massive, unmoving body—it was more than he could comprehend.

“Elyniel…” he whispered, his voice trembling. “What… what has become of you?”

But Elyniel’s expression did not falter. She lifted her head as much as her immense body would allow, her emerald eyes meeting her father’s with pride and defiance. “Father,” she said, her voice strong despite her heavy breath. “I am exactly who I am meant to be. I’ve never felt better, never been happier.”

Erondin struggled to find words, his gaze darting from her enormous belly to the small figure of Durfun atop her. “This… this is madness! You were an elf, a symbol of grace and beauty! And now… now you’ve become this!”

Elyniel’s cheeks flushed, but not with shame. She spoke with conviction, her voice echoing through the hall. “I *am* still an elf, Father. But I am also part of the dwarven world now, a bridge between our peoples. You see only my body, but you don’t see the strength it has taken to embrace this life. The world of the elves needs to open up, to learn that beauty and grace are not confined to a single shape or tradition. I have found love, unity, and purpose here. Can you not see that?”

Erondin’s hands trembled as he took a step closer, still overwhelmed by the sheer scale of his daughter. “But… but look at you! You can’t even move! Is this truly what you want?”

“Yes,” Elyniel replied firmly, her voice unwavering. “This is what I want. I’ve chosen this life, and I would choose it again a thousand times over. I’ve found happiness here, with Durfun and his people. My body may have changed, but my spirit is stronger than ever.”

Durfun, still seated on her massive belly, chimed in with a gruff laugh. “She’s stronger than any stone, yer majesty. She’s proven herself a true daughter o’ the mountain.”

Erondin stared at his daughter for a long moment, his heart torn between his love for her and his inability to understand her transformation. But as he looked into her eyes, he saw something he could not deny: joy, pride, and unshakable determination. Slowly, he nodded, though his expression remained conflicted.

“If this is truly what you want, Elyniel,” he said quietly, “then I will not stand in your way. But I pray that you have found what you were searching for.”

Elyniel smiled, tears welling in her eyes. “I have, Father. I’ve found love, and I’ve found a way to bring our worlds closer together.”

And with that, Erondin left the hall, his heart heavy but his mind beginning to open to the possibility that perhaps, just perhaps, his daughter had found a path worth following—even if it was one he could never have imagined.

-Part 12-

Years passed, and the bond between the dwarves of the Terra Mountains and the elves of the Old Elf Woods grew stronger than anyone could have foreseen. What began as the love story of Durfun and Elyniel had blossomed into a transformation of two cultures. Dwarves, once content to remain underground, began venturing into the sunlit elven forests, enchanted by their beauty and tranquility. Elves, who had always cherished their slim grace, ventured into the mountain halls, captivated by the richness of dwarven life, their feasts, and their hearty traditions.

With every passing year, more elves embraced the dwarven ritual of love, growing softer, rounder, and fuller as they indulged in the decadent dwarven feasts. Elven beauty began to take on a new meaning, one that celebrated not only their ethereal grace but also their willingness to embrace dwarven values of indulgence and abundance. The sight of once-slender elves growing into immovable figures of reverence became a common one, and the dwarves, in turn, learned to appreciate the gentler ways of elven culture.

The unity of their worlds was further solidified by the leadership of Elyniel and Durfun. After many decades of ruling his people with strength and wisdom, King Darfun had passed away, his long life celebrated with songs that echoed through the mountains. Durfun, now King of the Terra Mountains, took up his father’s iron scepter with pride, his heart as strong as the stone he had been shaped from. Elyniel, too, had ascended to power. Her father, Erondin, seeing the wisdom and determination in his daughter, had stepped down from the throne of the Old Elf Woods, leaving her to guide their people into a new age.

The day of the ritual that would unite their kingdoms came with great celebration. The dwarves and elves gathered in a vast, newly constructed hall deep in the Terra Mountains, its ceiling high enough to accommodate even the tallest trees of the elven woods. The hall was a symbol of their unity, its walls carved with scenes of dwarves and elves feasting together, its floors inlaid with gold and emeralds to reflect the beauty of both realms.

At the heart of the hall stood Elyniel, her enormous body a living testament to her love and dedication. She was now so immense that she rested upon a throne carved directly into the stone, her belly spilling over the sides like a rolling hill of soft flesh. Her pale skin, adorned with the stretch marks of her transformation, glowed in the firelight, and her emerald eyes shone with pride. Upon her brow sat the elven crown, its delicate silver leaves shimmering as though alive.

Beside her stood Durfun, his strong frame clad in the finest dwarven armor, his gray beard now streaked with white but no less impressive. In his hands, he held the iron scepter of the Terra Mountains, a symbol of his kingship. He turned to Elyniel with a proud smile, his voice echoing through the hall.

“Today, we make history,” he declared, his rough voice filled with emotion. “The mountains and the woods, once divided, now stand as one. Through love, we’ve proven that even the strongest stone can be shaped, and even the tallest tree can bend.”

Elyniel nodded, her voice strong despite the heaviness of her breath. “Today, we honor not just our love, but the love that now binds our people together. We are stronger together than we could ever be apart.”

With that, the two rulers performed the ritual that would forever unite their kingdoms. Elyniel removed her silver crown, handing it to Durfun, while he handed her the iron scepter. Together, they exchanged the symbols of their rule, a gesture that marked the merging of their worlds. The crowd erupted into cheers, the voices of dwarves and elves blending into a single, joyous chorus.

The years that followed saw their united kingdom flourish. The dwarves brought their skill in crafting and mining to the woods, building strongholds and monuments among the trees. The elves, in turn, brought their wisdom and magic to the mountains, transforming dark tunnels into living works of art. Their people mingled freely, their differences no longer a source of division but of strength.

Elyniel and Durfun ruled side by side, their love a beacon for their people. Though Elyniel’s body continued to grow, becoming an even greater monument to her sacrifice and devotion, she never wavered in her duties. Durfun, always at her side, cared for her with the same love and tenderness he had shown from the beginning.

Together, they proved that even the deepest divides could be bridged, that love could carve a path through stone and reach the highest branches of the tallest trees. Their legacy would be remembered for generations as the tale of two worlds united, of two hearts that changed the fate of their people forever.

-End-

#feederism fantasy #feederism story #extreme weight gain #weight gain story #fat kink #extremely obese #male feeder #female feedee #dwarf feeder #elf feedee #weight gain fantasy #fantasy weight gain story

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fox-meat · 6 years ago

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2, 3, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 12, 13, 14, 21, 22, 23, 24, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 36, 37, 39, 40, 41, 42, 44, 50

2. Where's the most unusual place you've masturbated?: Hrrmm good question, no where too weird I don't think. My living room? Never done it in public lmao

3. Where's the most unusual place you've had sex?: Oh boy, uh, I mean aside from our room, I've done some stuff in a tent, and the other place would probably be my bf's parent's bed XD

5. What's your favorite sex position?: Okay so, me on my back, guy kneeling in front of me and going in, my right leg hooked around his hips, my left up in the air against his right shoulder so he goes in deep /)//////(\

7. What're your biggest turn-ons while making out?: Oh god so many, okay, here we go. Touching me literally /anywhere/ will probably make me lose my mind. Waist, scratching my back, my hips, my NECK OR MY FACE makes me melt hhhhh, I also love hearing the other person moan, or bite my lip, or growl something to me,,,,,

8. What're your most unusual turn-ons in general?: Well I'm a kinky/kinnie bitch so, I do enjoy being threatened. "I'll break your neck" is flirtation. Same with "You smell delicious". NOT NICE I MELT! UNFAIR! Uhhh there's a lot of things, some mostly based on any kin shifts I might be in. Right now I'm in Ren so I'll add in, speaking German, clicking open a pocket knife, smiling while hurting me, hhhhh yeah. Yeah. Lots of. things.

9. What's your darkest fantasy?: Okay so this obviously changes but. Basically rn since I'm in a Ren shift, I'd probably like something to do with the people I knew. Strade, Vincent, Farz, and apparently a Lawrence. Would be interesting to be tag teamed by them! Vince punches me for a while, Farz stabs out an eye (or two), Strade carving out things or taking off fingers, toes, a fox ear, hhhhhh, and then Lawrence gutting me, trying to crawl inside me. Stuff like that /)////////////(\

10. If you could have one fantasy fulfilled right now, what would it be?: LOL I should read these questions ahead. Uhhh okay so, well I really want someone to tease the /fuck/ out of me. Like either tying me to a bed or just letting me be loose, touching and teasing me, until I'm /begging/ to be fucked, and still not giving in. And then doing more, messing with my ears, my tail, licking and biting me, hhhhh everything, and /still/ giving me nothing. All of this while saying what a dirty, naughty little fox I am. How needy I am (I'm in heat so LOL), how I'm so pathetic and whiny. By the time they finally touch me, I instantly cum /)///////(\ MOVING ON

12. What are your hard limits?: Okay uh, nothing with scat. Watersports don't bother me, but they're not a turn on. Same with like, vomit. Doesn't bother me in a roleplay way, but not inrl. I don't have too many other hard limits tbh! Feel free to ask for specific ones if you're interested :3

13. How often do you masturbate?: Okay so I hate doing it like, when my bf is home. So it's normally on days I don't work and I take him to work. So maybe.. 2-4 times a week? Not often at all. I'm more thinking about/roleplaying sex than actually doing anything about it.

14. Have you ever been caught masturbating or having sex?: Hrm a few times we've been in the middle of about to do stuff and my bf's sister will come upstairs. Never masturbating though!

21. Have you tasted yourself? If so, then what did you think?: Hhhh okay so, I did a looong time ago and recently when I did it was almost.. sweet? Like barely sweet. Wasn't bad, and could also be considered a turn on. Someone fingering me, then making me taste it. (OR THEM TASTING IT AND SAYING I TASTE GOOD AAAAAAAAAAAAA) inrl though I don't like people going down on me or touching me. It's mostly about fear of being hurt. But in roleplay anything goes!

22. Are you vocal during sex?: OH VERY I can be quiet if I reeaalllyy try but I whimper and whine a lot.

23. Do you like being rough with your partner? Do you like when your partner is rough with you?: Being rough to someone else is hard, I get nervous. Being rough with ME is a lot better. I can take it~ I'm like a punching bag.

24. Do you like being restrained? Do you like restraining your partner?: If I'm doing it to someone else, I end up keeping them tied up tight so I can either hurt them or force feed them. I looooove being restrained. Never had it happen, but I always wanted like, someone to hold me either gently or roughly while another hurt me. (While typing that I had specific people in my mind doing it AAAA) so yeah.

26. What are your favorite parts/features on each gender you're attracted to?: Honestly? Love breasts. Love them. Butts are great too. I'm attracted to all genders so ??? don't really have a preference.

27. Have you ever tried something sexual and decided you weren't into it?: I actually don't think so? Aside from one guy saying he had a six foot dick and wanted to do vore-stuff with it :P yeah no. Not my thing.

28. What are your erogenous zones?: Specifically for a Ren shift, my ears and tail are definitely overly sensitive. My neck is too, and my face being touched is hhhhh so good. And my back/waist being touched or scratched is nice~

29. What're the most effective ways to tease you in public?: Oh I'm gonna regret this. So basically, it's very easy. If we're together while I'm in person, whispering anything into my ear will probably make me all flustered and blushy. If you're messaging me and I'm in public, 100% basically anything threatening to fuck me or hurt me will get me. Almost guarenteed.

30. What're your favorite was to tease your partner in public?: Well with my adorable little feedee boyfriend, I tell him how fat he's getting and how people probably think he uses a motor cart cause he's too fat to walk around ;3 around with how everyone probably thinks he's a precious little girl~

31. What's your biggest sexual pet peevee?: WHEN IM ROLEPLAYING AND EITHER I HAVE TO LEAVE OR THEY DO AND THEN IM SITTING THERE WAITING FOR HOURS AND THEN EITHER WE JUST DECIDE NOT TO CONTINUE OR AAAAAAAAAA I HATE IT AND I KNOW ITS NO ONES FAULT IT JUST SUCKS ITS LIKE A HUUUUUGE COCK BLOCK

32. If you could dress/style someone to be as attractive to you as possible, what would they look like?: Okay uhh, depends I guess? Let's say it's a guy. Black leather jacket, tshirt, jeans, boots probably. (Basically Vincent Metzger LOL).

33. If you had to put on an outfit to turn-on your partner the most during a date, what would it be?: Oh if it's for my feedee, he'd probably love me in something that doesn't fit me well and would be super tight heheh. I never think I really turn people on that well.OH he does love when I'm naked and wearing only an apron >///

34. What are your favorite pet names/dirty names to be called during sex?: Oh god so many. SO MANY. Okay so, good boy, good fox, Fuchs, little bitch, slut, whore, naughty, (I don't like nasty very much), dirty, pathetic, weak, whiny, hhhhh there's a lot. a lot.

36. What's the best sexual compliment you've ever received?: Oh that I'm good at blowjobs apparently. I'll take it though~ I also hear that my screams and whines are apparently nice to hear.

37. Do you enjoy it when your partner has piercings and/or tattoos? Are there any particular body parts where you like your partner to have them?: I love lip and tongue piercings, along with ear ones. Wouldn't turn down a dick piercing, never tried having sex with someone who has one. I'd also probably be happy about any tattoos. I like seeing them on arms mostly.

39. If your partner was going to send you a video of themselves, what would they do to make it turn you on the most?: Hhhhh well, something along the lines of "Get your ass over here so I can fuck you", or anything of them with a knife. Mmnnnnn.

40. Are you a screamer, a grunter, a moaner, or a groaner?: Mostly a moaner and a screamer, sometimes a groaner. Hhhhh.

41. Is "vanilla" sex boring or underrated?: With the right person? Totally underrated. Like it's gotta be a comfortable, relaxing experience with someone you love.

42. What's the best orgasm you've had in the past few months?: HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I can't go into details but I was roleplaying while masturbating, and yeah. It was great. So great. So fucking great.

44. Do you enjoy seeing your partner have sex with others? Would you want them to do all of the same things that they're willing to do with you, or would some be off-limits? Hhhh with my feedee boyfriend, I'd be a little iffy on letting other people feed him. Last time I let someone who wasn't Keir do it, they turned into the worst person in my life :') So. Other than that, I think I'd be okay. He's obviously allowed to do whatever he wants, so I wouldn't stop him. I might not want to see it though.

50. Have you ever cum without having your genitals directly stimulated?: hhhh yeah, touching my chest and teasing me a lot can do it, definitely. Mmmnn.

Thank you for all these questions!!!! I need to do more heheh, thank you!!!

#Anonymous

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