Sorceress Has Left the Party

"You'd betray us, doom us all!" Knight Commander Joan's grey eyes narrowed with anger. Before I can respond, she flips the table we are sitting at. Her half drunk stein of the local brew is a hapless casualty and I only barely roll out of the way, picking myself up with a gaggle of curiously calm tavern patrons at my back.
The knight protector is a tall, elegant figure. She is lithe but powerful, something that is more obvious since she stands before me in her simple summer tunic rather than her full armor. The ensemble was short in the sleeves and ended about mid thigh, leaving the taut muscles of her limbs visible. 

I grimace, and try to answer her. "You give me little choice! Your order restricts my training to the point of suffocation - "

"We trusted you! I trusted you!" Joan is passionate, occasionally to a fault. It renders her incapable of deception. Her short cropped black hair does nothing to hide her pained expression, the small scar near her lips does not harden their slight quiver. My actions have wounded her greatly. She reaches for the sword at her side.

"Protector, I've no need to bring you further harm." My voice trembles me, betraying my reluctance. "Just go, and-"

"Traitor!" She ignores me, unsheathing her weapon and lounging my way. In a fair battle, I would be doomed: her reflexes are too good, her strength enough to conquer my magic. I'd be skewered in moments.

But this is not a fair fight.She followed me to the goblin market, she has partaken of fey food and wine.

Many things happen in the moment of her attack. The others in the tavern drop their glamors, now looking like the chittering, otherworldly fey they actually are. A wave of my arcane power radiates from me and sweeps across her, the consumables here making her vulnerable to the reality altering spells I have at my command.

Her sword clatters to the ground before ever reaching me, thanks to her calloused hand swelling horribly in moments. The newly revealed unseelie chitter as she stares at in shock. Before she can respond, the added bulk shrinks from her hand and begins to flow down her arm. She shrieks a curse at me as the bulge moves down her torso and settles in her stomach, granting her an odd little paunch..

"W-what is this magic!? These creatures!?" Joan stumbles back just a bit, taking her mind off her sudden pot belly and moving it to the jeering imps that now surrounded her and blocked her exit.

I suppose she was right. I have doomed her. May as well make it a show then.

With a gesture on my part the strange protuberance of her midsection begins to gurgle and bubble. The goblins cheer and hoot as Joan panics, the mound beginning to push outward in all directions. It soon looks like the stretched belly of an overstuffed glutton, popping the belt that had cinched her tunic around her waist. She pressed her hand on her stomach, and it made an awful sloshing noise in response.

"Please, don't do this!” Her waist and hips began to widen to accommodate the heft and girth of her immense belly, causing her formerly lithe form to take on a heavy teardrop shape. Stumbling, ponderous steps were accompanied by an odd “galunk” noise caused by the movement of whatever heavily liquid was causing her grotesque expansion. I remain silent myself, watching her calves enlarge enough to split her boots and how her now massive thighs press together and jiggle. Years of diligent training vanish under the wobbling of magically accumulated girth.

“No...no…!” Joan attempted to bend over to retrieve her weapon. This turned out to be a mistake, causing her girth to shift - her lower half shrinking just a bit as bulk retreated into her upper body, causing her breasts, arms and face to inflate comically for a moment. The now ridiculous knight pitches forward and lands on her back. An embarrassed grunt turns into a panicked whimper as her mass resettles and pins her under her own (now very considerable) weight. Her limbs are large and useless, splayed across the ground. With a tearing sound, the remains of her tunic fall to the ground; destroyed by her rising, dome like belly and ever-widening torso.

The goblins swarm her, cackling. She turns her head back and forth to watch them, unable to do much else as every part of her body is stretched and filled by my curse. One pair, feeling particularly cruel, has rolled over a large barrel of Boggin Grog and a funnel. Joan’s eyes widen as she realizes what they are about to do, but her protests are quickly silenced as they force the funnel into her mouth and subsequently flood her with the foul drink.

Her already immensely bloated stomach groans as even more is forced into it, and the creatures cheer with delight as the humiliated champion’s drum tight body struggles to hold even one more drop. I take my leave, only glancing back to see exactly how large my former commander has become - I dare say, she now rivaled my former home’s fattest livestock in size. I close the door as I notice the goblins are going for a second barrel.

I can’t help but grin, because honestly, I am sort of a terrible person.