Sweet Tradition, A

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"Tradition is there for a reason: it was found good and worth keeping. Change for change’s sake is a sign of Chaos, don’t you agree?"
-- Stirlander Noble


Stubby figure moved back and forth along the alley, formed by a completely normal human house and a disgustingly tall and plain fence.

"Like, who the hell of this bumpkins would ever make all this planks so smooth?!" Felda was still sweaty from her previous attempt to storm the damned obstacle, breathing heavily from both tiredness and anger.

Beyond the wall there was wealth. The man who lived there was a trader or something - she didn't really care, but she knew for sure that he was rich. That drunk in a tavern yesterday had a rather long tongue yet a very bad attention, so getting his key was a child's play. It wasn't a direct pass to the house through - but a one to a cabin in the orchard. And if the drunk was to be believed, the spare key from the house was 'hidden' in there, under a doormat.

"Child's... play..." Halfling repeated her thought, now out loud, between deep breaths, preparing for yet another jump. And whatever one could say about the actual plan, this exact stage wasn't going to be easy.

As most of her kinsfolk, Felda was, well, full-figured. Every part of her body was a sign of that, from cutely rounded face, adorned with freckles; down to round, ripe breasts, barely contained by her somewhat unfitting shirt; to the soft bulge visibly poking over her belt that was her belly, again, thanks to the smallness of the same shirt; and so nicely it transfered to the fat thighs, hugged tight by Felda's belowed slinky trousers of bretonnian fashion; the view of how the latter contained her plump yet taut butt could certainly send even the cleanest soul right to Slaanesh, if it wasn't hidden under floors of a long teal coat.

Once again, with a loud squeak, Felda launched her chubby body up, this time finally closing her fingers on top of the fence. Huffing and puffing, she pulled her self up and over the hedge, thoughtfully silencing yet another squeak as she fell down in bushes. Quickly she stood up, removing her orange curls from the face, and made her way out of noisy vegetation. Now she was on the enemy territory. And even though the drunken servant said everyone will be...

"Out. For a party." Felda would surely facepalm if she wouldn't be frozen in terror. There was, like, more than ten pairs of round, confused eyes staring right at her. Children. Why didn't he mentioned it will be a birthday party?! Right in the orchard, emperor's ass!

"Um... hello." Said the halfling with a trembling voice.

Dammit! Alright... just calm down. Indeed, a single wrong word, and they'll scream and run for their parents, and then she's doomed - no way she can quickly bypass that fence again.

But. There were a heckload of the right words to say.
See, Felda was pretty aware of a certain local tradition. All haflings probably were. That's why she was one of those very few bold deceivers, who lived here, in Wordern.

Though what she was going to do was risky even by their standarts.

"Here I am, the halfling, for yer sweets n' treats to steal!" Felda said in an overly dramatic manner, complete with gestures and all, and parodying the stereotypical accent humans believed every halfling had.

By the looks on kids faces, some excited and some ashamed for beholding such awkward buffoonery, redhead thief could say they swallowed the bait. Well, most of them.

"Shouldn't it be, you know, a dummy?" Asked the most well dressed boy, surely the hero of the occasion.

"A dummy? 'Tis for the poor." She smiled, winking at the boy with one of her huge green eyes.

"Haha! Erich is poor!" A voice could be heard from the back, followed by another one's angry responce: "Bullshit!"

"I don't know..." continued the boy "Dad said Herbert will bring the... 'dummy' or whatever."

"Oh, that dru-u... I mean, Herbert, yeah. He's sick."

"He's drunk." The boy corrected her with a sigh, and she nodded, relieved. He was just clever enough to be manipulated. Perfect.

"But after all, today yer a one more year closer to adult, aye? Ain't ya all here old enough to do all by yerself?" she asked daringly, picking up the 'shortie-speak' again.

Not waiting for the answer she walked up to the table loaded with yummy foodstuffs. Of course, this whole performance was only a play for time, but the truth is, Felda had no idea what else she could do. She was just hoping some chance to escape will appear later, like, kids will grow tired or she'll send them after something. So she needed to play along for now.

Also, she was quite hungry, and gods know if there'll be any other chance in her life to taste some of these sweets!

Precisely as her role dictated, she took a bite from a piece of creamy cake, and then another, and another, and licked her fingers as she finished. It was fantastic!

And so she continued. One more piece, two more. A handful of candy from this bowl and that. The halfling girl happily stuffed her face, only taking breaks to tell a joke or two for little ones' entertainment. First few minutes kids too enjoyed the treats, but them being kids, they hadn't such an appetite as Felda had. Some of them were playing around now, forgetting any suspision they could have about the tresspasser. And that was good.

What was bad, is a couple of kids who watched curiously as Felda ate. Not if that was unsettling by any chance - halflings always attracted unwanted attention in this town, she used to it long ago. But if they were to join their friends instead, she could easily got away right now and wouldn't have to continue... this.

Of a large tiered cake more than a quarter already dissapeared. Even taking in account the pieces children ate, no less than a quarter was now inside Felda. And though her belly pushed over the belt only slightly more than usual, she was starting to feel full.

"Need help?" Asked Erich, breaking the halfling out of her trance.

"Nope!" She answered, forcing a smile, and quickly showing another piece in her mouth.

And as she continued, she begun to visibly bloat. When there was around a half of the cake left, the pale flesh of her belly could already be seen between the buttons of her steadily stretching shirt; yet her audience numbers stayed the same, some kids looking even more interested as Felda was slowly blowing up. Closing to another quarter, there was a sound of torn fabric, and with two ringing sounds buttons on girl's belly popped. Attracted by the sounds, two of the kids who were playing nearby walked up to Felda, staring at the now bared soft orb of her stomach. One of them even poked it and soon after the second one did the same.  Now that was just embarrassing, but the thief was too afraid to do anything about it. She just kept on gorging herself, only letting out a muffled "Oh!" and blushing, as for this time little finger was shoved right into her belly button. At least that violation of personal space was final from their side.

The cake, however, wasn't going to give up so quickly. One more quarter left. The mere thought of it made Felda sick. She looked down at the rising bulge beneath her breasts and then up to the kids. Still eagerly watching little brats. The girl reached out to her belt, undoing it, and after a short thought, did the same to the button on her pants. She let out a sigh of relief, gently rubbing her round, squishy middle with one hand and proceeding her feast with another.

To be fair, it felt kinda good. Not the same way good that it was when she begun, no. More in a way that a proper lady would never mention.

But Felda wasn't a proper lady, she was a halfling. An impulsive and mouthy creature, with intense need for emotional sharing.

"I'm so fucking stuffed!" She said and moaned, her swift hand gathering the last crumbs from a plate where there was once a glorious, rich cake. She licked each of the fingers and then tenderly caressed her distended stomach with both hands. Her words, no matter how dirty, were definitely to the point - she was enormous. Like a sack of leather balls! Like a small squig! Or even a nurgling!

Or a full pinata on a nice birthday party.

"So, is that it?" asked on of the boys in a creepy monotone "I'll go get the clubs."

Halfling's eyes widened in fear as she realised what kind of trap situation she joyfully put herself into.

"No, no, no! Wait! I ain't done yet!" Felda babbled, as she quickly moved a bowl of candy closer and started to ravage it. While everyone else were obviously amazed at haflings capacity, 'get the clubs' guy returned on his chair with the same bored look. He was like that from the very beginning: dour, not chit-chatting with his peers, just looking at her.

As she shoved more and more sweets in her mouth, she feverishly tried to come up with any, now really ANY plan to escape from here as soon as possible. But no. Nothing. No matter how hard she tried. Even the simple running away wouldn't work now. Because she screwed it all, stuffing herself into a food balloon!

She didn't thought it could come to this. Up until now it all seemed like a... child's play.

Meanwhile, with each minute candies numbers were thinning, and Felda's form was thickening. Weird mixes of pain, pleasure, fear and excitement were flowing through halflings bloated body, made stronger by each handful of candy, as she swallowed them hard, and by each thought of terrible beating that would for no doubt rupture her now so stretched skin like pinata's fabric. She panted and moaned between the gulps, not even paying attention for how some of the kids' started to look frightened. The only thing she could focus on was the sound of the creepy boy steadily tapping his fingers.

And when there was no more food on the table, the unfortunate thief grabbed the last thing left - a jug of milk. Raising it with a huff, Felda finally failed at keeping the ballance of her swollen form. Though she softly landed on her fat butt, her belly warningly groaned. It wasn't soft anymore, no. It was filled to the brim and hard as rock, the pale skin shiny from sweat and tautness.

Felda had a plan. She knew it was risky. In fact, it was total madness. But it could be her only chance to get away in one piece.

"Kids... maybe... we can make a little bet here... shall we?" Never before she'd thought that it could be so hard to breath in to say a word.

Some kids nodded and some shrugged in responce. Good enough.

"I will... drink the jug down to the bottom... and if I do... you won't beat me... alright?"

"Deal." Answered the birthday boy after a bit of thinking, and the halfling let out a short laugh.

She opened the jug, pushed it into her lips and slowly raised it over her head. The milk flowed into her mouth and down her throat. Her belly once again gurgled in protest. She knew there was no way she could drink the whole thing. The pressure within was too much already - even from her perspective she could see the pink stain spreading from her belly button. She cheated as much as she could: milk flew over her mouth, wetting her shirt and soothing the stretched skin of her stomach with it's coldness. But still, she kept growing.

There was a sound as if someone blew into a balloon. And then again. And again. And again. And with each gulp the living pinata made. Each time louder than the previous one, to the point where it sounded almost like...


Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.






Felda dropped the empty jug, gasping for air.

"I - Ooooh - I did..."

Kids watched in awe, some with their mouths hang open. It would be dead silent in here, if not for creaks, groans and gurgles coming from the colossal sphere near the table.

Nobody knew what should they do or what should happen next.

Except for the bored boy. Engineers son. He knew she couldn't possibly do that. And he was right. And he knew he was right. And as he unobtrusively walked to the nearest tree, the inevitable was coming closer and closer. Felda could feel it, deep within her gargantuan body. A feeling so familiar, it would never terrify her in any other situation. But now it did.

"Kids, I..."

Her whole body was struck with some kind of short impulse. But she was holding it.

"I think, I..."

It happened again.

"I think, I might..."

It was rising again, and she knew it was the end.

"I might~ hiccup!"


With a shattering bang, the overstuffed halfling exploded, splattering the area with cream, chocolate and other sweet substances.


A well dressed man walked back and forth around his orchard, now looking like a disposal place for several bakeries. Children were standing nearby, all guiltily looking at their feet, all covered in stuff, except for one. Their story was bizarre and definitely a lie. But he knew it wasn't their fault. Once again he repeated his lecture about how they shouldn't speak to strangers, let alone tolerate their presense in his yard, but more importantly, how they shouldn't let the servants do stupid things just because they're adults. Then he departed, eager to kick one drunk's ass with his now milk stained boot.

Shortly after, the kids were saying goodbyes, sharing their thoughts about this quite unusual day.

"You saw that? She was like BOOM! Like KABOOM!" Spoke the boy, excitedly waving his hands.

Yet the response was dull and monotone "The whole thing... wasn't as good as I expected."

"Are you kidding?! She... she fucking exploded!"

Engineers son frowned.

"Your father wouldn't like you saying that word. And anyway, I think we should've just ate all the sweets we wanted ourselves, like it normally goes."

"And that's why you're boooring! I dunno why I even invited you, really."


Stirlanders in the southern and central parts of the province are particularly notable for their dislike of Halflings - resenting the 1500-year-old decision that stole their best farmland, The Moot, and gave it to the "Shorties", and the belief that all Halflings are thieves is stronger here than almost anywhere else in the Empire. In the town of Wordern, there is a tradition when celebrating a child's birthday, to make a straw-man the size of a Halfling, and stuff it with treats and candies that he "stole" from the children. Then, it is hung from a tree while blindfolded children beat it with sticks until it breaks and "gives back" the candy.

Locals deny that drunks have occasionally used a real Halfling for this.

Author's Note: 

A story about a halfling thief, who thinks that she's smart, but she's not.
And the whole thing is set in Warhammer Fantasy.

Turned out longer than I expected, but I just don't feel like cutting parts from it.

The idea came from a piece of Warhammer lore that I quoted (in cursive) in the end.

My english is not very good, so if you notice any mistakes, typos, weird constructions, dumb sentences etc. - tell me, and I'll fix it right away.

Also, it's my first story in this, um, genre, so I'm opened for critique and advices.

Warhammer (c) Games Workshop

Average: 4.1 (9 votes)
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Dizzibelle's picture
Points for your first

Points for your first attempt, but the grammar made it a real slog to get through.


Yeah, I've found and fixed a lot of mistakes later, but I see no way to apply the edits here.