“boouuUURP” Jansmere the dragonborn let out a hefty belch in the air, waving her tankard in triumph before slamming it on the bar. She smiled coyly at the elven bartender, Serrin, before turning around to jeer at her competition, a dwarf with the look of defeat on his face. “HA! I told you I can out-drink and out-eat anyone in Everington. Looks like five gold and the next round is on you!” she taunted, before the dwarf grumbled and shuffled away from his seat at the bar. Patting her taut stomach, the purplish-red dragonborn looked at the bartender again, her finger already raised in preparation for her next order. “Another ale, please…and how about another chunk of the roast ham?” Serrin grinned as she drew up another tankard from behind the bar. “You know you eat here free, right? By now you should understand that your services cover anything on the menu,” she said with a familiar tone. “Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to take any opportunity I get to show some brash challenger what for! Especially if it means more food for me…” Jansmere boasted, sliding a few of the coins towards Serrin. “Think of it like me putting on a show…and the owner of the venue gets a cut!” “I won’t say no to that. But seriously, anything you want here is yours. I can’t thank you enough for giving this place much-needed security,” the silver-haired elf thanked. Despite her statement, her tavern, the Locke-and-Key, was fairly safe. It was located well within the walls of Everington, a modest crossroads town in the middle of the Queen’s Highway. In Everington, there was little threat of bandits, beasts, undead, or any such run-of-the-mill fantasy threat a paranoid commoner could think of. Instead, Everington was plagued with a different nuisance: adventurers. As a busy crossroads, the town was frequented by traveling sellswords, starry-eyed heroes’ apprentices, amateur warriors, and countless other people hoping to become legends. Generally speaking, these folk were sworn protectors, taking the side of good more often than not. The problem with them, especially for Serrin’s business, was their rowdiness. Adventurers, whether fresh on their first quest or veterans of regional renown, viewed taverns as their playground. It was there that their antics would truly cost coin, whether it was unnecessary flirting with the staff, destructive drinking games, or even the rare sticky-handed rogue trying to pick pockets just to prove how stealthy they were. For these, Serrin needed protection. And where else would the best protector be than an ex-adventurer herself! Jansmere’s traveling days were far over, though not due to her lack of ability. She had traveled in an adventurer’s group as an artificer many a time, but by now, she had lost interest in the pursuit of glory and instead decided to pursue the comforts of everyday life. So, she had returned to Everington, visited the tavern, and gotten a job as the Locke-and-Key’s bouncer. It certainly had its benefits, thought Jansmere as she swallowed another gulp of the tavern’s sweet ale. Living in the Locke-and-Key had brought immense comforts to her life that were never around during her time as an adventurer, especially the food. As a traveling warrior, she mostly survived on whatever dry rations were available at the end of the day. Now, she never missed a meal, and gorged herself at every one. Even more than that, since the Locke-and-Key was a fairly busy tavern that served at all times of the day, the food never really stopped coming. Bacon, ham, biscuits, and eggs would rapidly transition into potatoes, stew, and countless roast meats that would last long into the night. Now that she thought about it, there wasn’t really a time where she stopped eating, save for sleep. Such an occupation was not without costs. She’d been here a few months now, and the change in her body was almost unbelievable. Her lithe, trim figure had given way to additional rolls of fat on nearly every part of her body. Her armored scales couldn’t hide the weight she had gained, especially in her stomach, which now sunk slightly below her waistline. It peeked out of her shirt at all times, revealing the reddish scales of her belly no matter what she was wearing. She had to kiss her old plate armor goodbye, too, but she justified it in her mind by saying that leather armor was simply more practical for her current duties. “Well then, I think I’ll take you up on your offer. Put the rest of the pig on my plate, I’m cleaning you out!” Jansmere ordered, figuring that by this point in the night, no one else would be ordering, anyways. Better not let it go to waste, she thought, as Serrin shaved the rest of the pork onto her platter. It was a prodigious amount, at least four pounds of the tender meat. Jans responded quickly, chomping down on the pork with the voraciousness of a true dragon. Was she eating too much? Probably. But as long as she was accomplishing her duties, what would a little gluttony hurt? —---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A Month Later Why did it always have to be bards? Must be something about their cocky charisma, Jansmere thought, as she approached the colorfully-clad tiefling currently bothering Serrin. What was going on was clear: the bartender and proprietor was trying to get back to her duties, sending all the “not interested” signals she possibly could, but the red-skinned bard continued with his attempted flirting and boasting. “And with one final SLASH of my rapier, the dragon was felled! Pretty amazing, right?” He prattled, leaning over the bar. Jansmere was up from her own seat in the corner of the tavern by now, approaching the bard with intent in her step. Glrnnnnllnlll… Her stomach groaned, already complaining that Jans had stopped eating. Really? Why was she already hungry, she hadn’t stopped eating since breakfast, her stomach couldn’t possibly need more at this point! She supposed that by now, maybe her stomach had gotten used to a new meaning of “hungry.” Instead of the hunger that arose from emptiness in the stomach, this one came from lack of constant intake. At least she was at a place of constant intake, she thought, already dreaming of ordering a couple more bowls of stew once the bard was dealt with. Her bulbous stomach bumped into him first, causing him to turn around and stare wide-eyed at the interloper. By this point, the anthro dragoness was properly obese. Patches of soft, violet flesh poured out of any cracks in her armor in nearly every location, from her chest, to her backside, and especially her stomach. Her scale-coated belly had a proper circular shape by this point, sagging down to her thighs with the mass of a few watermelons. This close to it, the bard could hear the natural processes within, as gallons of her digesting food churned away into her guzzling intestines. Glrgllll… “Rapiers poke, they don’t slash, moron. Now leave her alone.” Jans grumbled, looking downwards at the nuisance. “Well, perhaps not with your school of fencing, lizard. And I think she wants me here, so I’ll stay,” taunted the tiefling. Just as he finished his sentence, Jansmere lurched forward, pinning his body against the bar and slamming his head against it with her clawed hand. Obese or not, she was still capable. Dare she say her added weight actually helped, as the ample flesh coalesced around the tiefling’s middle, aiding her attempt to restrain him. “Alright, then you’re going to pay double price on anything you’ve bought…and you’re going to buy me my next round,” Jans threatened, tacking on the second condition in response to her stomach’s demands. There was an awkward silence across the scene as the bard struggled to get free of the dragonborn’s adiposal grip, to no avail. Jans wouldn’t relent. The only thing that the restrained nuisance caused was an upset stomach, disturbing the contents within. As expected, this caused Jansmere to release a tremendous… BOOoouuUUUURP! Right in the face of the annoying bard. Still staring in the face of the woman pinning her against the bar, a twinge of fear surfaced in the tiefling’s eyes as he felt her warm breath against his face. Saliva dripped from her sharp teeth, and Jansmere’s visage appeared even more draconic than it already was. Unlike the fictitious version of himself he would boast about, he was actually quite afraid. “Fine…! Take it, just leave me alone!” he relented as coins clinked against wood. As Jansmere relieved the pressure on him, he scittered away with his tail between his legs, literally. With victory in her claws, Jansmere grinned at Serrin yet again and slid the coins in her direction, her order known without a word needing to be said. The bartender sighed with a smile and commented, “With how much you eat and how often you scare away ‘customers,’ I should really fire you. But your…negotiation has been quite good for business.” “As long as the food and booze keeps coming, I’ll keep doing it. And as long as I get to put those cocky good-for-nothings in their place,” bragged Jans, already eying another tavern-goer’s food. “I’ve got another hog on the spit in the back… if you’re still hungry. I doubt anyone else wants it,” Serrin offered. Truth be told, her interest in supplying Jansmere’s growing appetite was genuinely just financial. Her bouncer’s boisterous, aggressive attitude had actually improved her overall business. Jansmere’s constant competitions she held to out-drink and out-eat any one in the tavern were drawing some good attention, and it was a great way for adventurers to let off steam without causing mayhem, and it led to them paying more. It was a win-win. Sure, the dragonborn’s appetite was prodigious, but with all this business, the Locke-and-Key was still making more of a profit than ever before. She was keen on keeping this golden goose supplied, and if that meant increasing amounts of food, it was worth it. Placing the oversized platter in front of her draconic bouncer, Serrin revealed a small roast hog, apple stereotypically resting in its mouth. Jans eyed it the entire way lustily, saliva practically dripping out of her snout and onto her expanding chest. Compared to the stew she was sipping before the confrontation, this was a real meal. Her stomach groaned in desire, ready to churn away all this meat into additional padding across the dragonborn’s body. It wanted this food now. At the moment that Serrin placed it in front of Jansmere, she couldn’t take the pangs anymore, sinking both hands into the pig’s torso and stuffing its head straight into her mouth. Figuring that there was enough hog to taste, she honored her stomach’s demands and started swallowing. Immediately. Chewing was just an obstacle that kept her from more delicious food. It was a task to swallow large meals such as this, but she deemed it worth it. Her throat initially complained with pain, but after a few moments it seemed that her stomach essentially overrided it, pain giving way to the intense hunger that was now her predominant emotion. Sucking down inch after inch, she finally cleared the pig’s stomach, now simply left with its slimmer legs. The rest was simple, as she tasted the last bits of delicious meat before turning it over to her stomach to do the rest. As she wiped her snout in triumph, she felt her stomach deliver an emotion she hadn’t felt in a long time: satisfaction. She was content, no, she was full. It was a delightful sensation. Or at least, it was a delightful sensation before becoming overwhelmed with a second one… uuUUUUURRRRRRRRP! She bellowed, releasing a gaseous war cry of gluttony. The eyes of the tavern were on her, no doubt. But she didn’t care. It was oh-so worth it. She wanted to eat like this every day. And at her current rate, she would. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ A Month Later Groaaaaaannnn… Jansmere was furious. And furiously hungry. Someone had nicked her roast duck. Well, her third roast duck, that is. The first two were now gurgling away within her keg-sized gut, the appetizers for the main-course of meat, one of Serrin’s delectable roast hogs. Ideally, Jansmere could’ve easily shrugged off losing a small appetizer and waited to be sated by the main course. In reality, her stomach and personal feelings were making decisions for her. And she was going to find her duck, even to the point of delaying the bigger meal. She wove through the tables of the Locke-and-Key like a whale in a china shop, her thighs, rear, and even her drooping paunch rubbing against furniture and patrons alike. At her meteoric rate of weight gain, her stomach had continued to expand. By now, her leather armor had long given up attempting to contain it, now merely covering her similarly fatty chest. Hidden behind the purplish scales of her body were hundreds of pounds of fat, the product of her food-filled lifestyle. She was probably around 600 pounds by this point; patrons were baffled by her ability to even walk. The Blubbery Bouncer of Everington had garnered a reputation by this point, becoming something of a local celebrity. Serrin was loving it. She kept seeing increasing numbers of visitors all due to the infamous dragonborn, which meant more business. And more business meant adding an expansion to the tavern, hiring additional waiting and kitchen staff, and of course, supplying Jansmere with more and more food. They were simply the costs of an expanding business. And an expanding bouncer, she supposed… After circling the tavern like a vulture, she finally caught a glimpse of her query: a halfling with a bandana over his face and a hood over his head. A rogue. Great. With his head start, he had already made his way to the door, roast duck in hand. Even after leaving, Jansmere pursued him, slowly stepping out of the main door, which was thankfully extra-wide. As she left the warm glow of the tavern, Jansmere was faced with the challenge of the night. Grumbling to herself, she reached into her pack and drew forth a few items from her old artificer days: a pair of brass goggles for seeing in the dark and her handmade multitool, which served as a focus for her magic. Prepared for whatever challenge she had to face, she followed the last glimpse of the halfling thief. Lumbering forward, jiggling with every step, she had to resort to hastening magic to keep at pace. Her added girth definitely impeded her speed. But, thanks to both magic and her rage, she caught up unbelievably quickly, rounding a corner to confront the halfling in an alley. The current route he was taking was the way to Everington’s inns. He was probably just too cheap to order room service, she thought before finally cornering him. Placing a clawed hand on his shoulder, she forcibly turned him around to pin him against the stone wall of the alley, smushing both him and the duck he was holding with her corpulent form. Grease rubbed up against her, but she didn’t relent. Gods, she hoped it wasn’t ruined… “Going somewhere, sticky-hands?” she asked in a low tone. The short rogue was caught completely off-guard by Jansmere’s movements, and before he could even speak, his face was smothered with her rippling gut, muffling his cries. Normally, he would offer some taunt, or cry in disbelief at the obese dragonborn’s speed, but for now, all he could say was, “Mmf mmmf mmmmm!” Louder than the halfling’s stifled wailing was a much deeper sound: the angry rumbles of a roiling gut. It had gone far too long without food. It was so hungry, Jans was finding it hard to focus. “You’re gonna have to pay for that…or else I’ll…” started Jansmere, already salivating at the smell of the roast duck in between her stomach and her query. Normally at about this time, she would be halfway through a hog. Instead she was in some back alley far away from the tavern with some small, helpless rogue in her clutches. Her stomach was complaining, already deciding that it would be far too long to wait until more food was available. She needed meat and she needed it now. She acted without a thought, moving just an inch away from the halfling to free his head. By the time he began to utter, “Fine I’ll pay, please just get–” she chomped on his head and began swallowing. Sure, he was a person, but he was hog-sized, covered in grease, and made of meat. Therefore, he was a meal. Normally, her meals didn’t thrash about, but her stomach didn’t discriminate, urging her to swallow more and more of the runaway rogue. Her stomach juices were gurgling, her gut practically applauding the arrival of a meal so large. It was about time. Swallow after swallow, she gradually forced down the halfling, clothes and all. The cloth, of course, was not the best tasting thing she’d ever consumed, but that was merely a covering of the food underneath it. The rest of him was on par with the Locke-and-Key’s dishes, sending shivers up her tastebuds and bringing an even greater desire to consume. Most importantly, he was filling, finally providing that sense of satisfaction and fullness she had missed. At her current weight, it nearly took two pigs to make her this full. Now, she had it in one meal. One delicious, squirming, writhing meal. GULP! She swallowed the last bit of him, his feet slipping behind her jaw and into her esophagus. Already, his upper body was thrashing around in her belly, desperately but unsuccessfully trying to escape. The sensation was quite unique, but she actually liked it. Something about the stretching of her stomach, or the liveliness of her food. Speaking of which, the halfling’s movements were causing quite the stir, disturbing her stomach’s gasses and eventually producing a deep, sonorous… BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOURP It was incredibly loud, and sustained itself for several seconds. Somebody probably heard it, but the former-artificer didn’t care. She did, however, care about getting some ale to wash this all down. Eating a person made her throat dry. As she contemplated returning to the tavern, a flicker of reality returned to her. She had just…eaten a person. Whole, in fact. Clothes and all. There might’ve even been a few daggers in there. It was a sobering thought. But…he had deserved it. And he was delicious. Gods, he was delicious. So, waiting for his thrashing to stop, Jans decided that she’d best just return to her job and pretend nothing happened. As she stood up, she remembered why she came here–the roast duck now sitting on the ground, still on its plate. It was still smushed, but…it was her reason for being here and she wasn’t going to let it go to waste. With one quick swallow, the entire duck slipped into her gullet as if it were a mere hors d’oevre. After it came down to her stomach, something else came up, this time with a much more irregular noise: buOOO*hic*OOOOUUU*hic*RRRP clinkclinkclink! It was the indigestible remains of the unnamed rogue, clattering off the alley wall and onto the ground: Lockpicks, daggers, a belt buckle, clasps, and of course, coins. Several platinum and gold, actually. She had no idea that eating adventurers could be so profitable. Serrin would be happy…which meant more food for her. Confidently and victoriously, Jansmere stepped out of the alley and back on to the path towards the Locke-and-Key. She had to get there quickly, dessert would be served soon! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Two Weeks Later Serrin couldn’t believe how fast her business was growing. Every night was packed, local bards began performing inside, and her waiting staff had increased. The Locke-and-Key was quickly becoming the travel spot for anyone coming through Everington. With her expanding coffers, she had even been able to purchase and renovate an inn across the street. And where was the source of all this profit? Her dragonborn bouncer. Sure, her revenue from patrons and inn-stayers was certainly a large chunk of it, but it was nothing compared to the “bonuses” from Jansmere. Every time there was a disorderly patron, which was, give or take, once a day, Jansmere would now deal with them outside the tavern in contrast to her earlier methods. When she returned, it was with much more coin than she used to bring. The elven barkeep wasn’t blind. She knew Jansmere was roughing up those patrons beyond what would be considered as “ethical.” Normally, it’d be considered robbery, but these patrons had caused trouble in her tavern. They deserved it! If the town watch ever investigated, she would justify it by saying that. If that wasn’t good enough, there was always the extra coin to bribe with. Sure, her obese bouncer was likely pushing the limits of what was lawful in her job. But it resulted in purely beneficial results: rowdy patrons wouldn’t return, justice was served, and she earned a horde’s worth of coin in the process. It was perfect. Her golden goose was actually a dragoness. Speaking of which… “Gods, I’m starving!” Jansmere groaned loudly, making her way between the tables towards her designated booth in the corner of the tavern. On the way, angry about the fact that she wasn’t eating food currently, she nabbed the nearest patron’s platter and stuffed it into her mouth without a thought. The annoyed patron, a human, complained, “Hey, that was mine! I didn’t do anything wrong!” “Buy another,” Jans barked gruffly before shuffling past. The look on the patron’s face in response almost looked like he would. Waiting to meet her at her booth was a veritable feast of Serrin’s finest: half a steere’s worth of steak, a roast hog, sheets of bacon, dozens of lamb shanks, beef stew, beef pies, beef tips, beef pudding, and of course, gallons of ale to wash it all down. By now, Serrin had noted Jansmere’s proclivity for meat and met that desire. That, and the desire to have gargantuan meals around the clock. Before she even sat down, Jans was scarfing down food, grabbing a lamb shank and swallowing it immediately, bone and all. There wasn’t time to differentiate between meat and bone, and by this time, her stomach had grown rather fond of meals of this composition. So, she set to the task, sucking down slab upon slab of meat. Serrin’s food was great, of course, but ever since that encounter with the halfling…she had found a new favorite food. Every day since then, she had chased down and consumed any rabble-rousing adventurers that dared attract her ire. These days, thanks to her infamous vigilance, that amount was generally one patron a day, normally during the evening when the tavern was busiest. The decrease in rowdiness was apparently good for the tavern, but it meant that Jans’ prey was limited. The only other thing she could do while waiting for a rabblerouser was to simply sit all day and engorge herself on Serrin’s food. With that as her current job, she’d gotten quite efficient at it. As soon as waiting staff placed platters in front of her, they’d be snatched by her greasy claws and disappear into her gaping maw. Amongst the staff, she’e gained the reputation as a humanoid garbage disposal. Leftover dishes, unneeded ingredients and excess meat shavings all seemed to end up on her table and subsequently her gut in quick fashion. Alongside this diet of live prey and cooked meals came the weight change expected of it. Her thighs were colossal, and each cheek of her rear was easily the weight of a whole person. Her bosom had grown with a similar rate, her doughy mounds now the weight of a full dungeon chest. And of course, to top it all off, was her gigantic belly. At this point, it was big enough to be a geographic feature. There was no wonder she could eat so much. Her weight wasn’t solely in the adipose department, either. Something about her high-protein diet had led to an increase in muscle growth. Ever since she started eating adventurers, she had found herself much more mobile even despite the added girth. She swore she was getting taller, too, if by just a couple of inches. Yet another reason why people were becoming her favorite meal. Due to both her increased size and experience, her eating pace had accelerated to an alarming speed, sucking up anything in front of her. Speaking of which, she was just about done with her supper feast, which was concerning because the kitchen staff had barely begun making dessert. She needed more. She needed a person. Thankfully Serrin was walking over to her with a familiar look on her face. “Hey, Jans. One of my waiting staff told me that we had a client forget to pay. She’s a half-elf…” began Serrin, but before she could even finish describing the person, the anthro dragoness was out of her seat and moving towards the exit. “It’s about time,” Jansmere grumbled to herself, her stomach groaning in anticipation. She hoped this half-elf was fat… Exiting the tavern, the dragonborn quickly spotted her query and lurched towards her. It looked like no one else was around, so she didn’t care about stealth now, bounding towards the half-elf. Hearing her massive steps, her target turned around to see her approaching. “Ah, the bouncer, did I forget some–” But before she could say anything, the dragonborn placed a claw on her face and dragged her to the side of the tavern. With her target now out of sight, Jansmere quickly got to work, going from head first, as always, and quickly swallowing the rest of her. Unfortunately for her, this half-elf was decently slim. Commoner’s clothes, no excess fat or muscle. Maybe a cleric or some other caster with little experience. An adequate morsel. In a few seconds flat, Jansmere’s prey had slipped within her gullet, feet sticking out of her maw before she pushed them inside. The taste was amazing, but unfortunately the size of the meal didn’t quite fill her. Hopefully dessert at Serrin’s would be able to completely fill the cracks in her hunger. Unlike her first time, she wasn’t full anymore from a single person, but at least she was satisfied. It would do for now, she thought, before sitting down against the tavern wall. Glrrglrrrllggglll… Her stomach commented, pleased at another proper meal. This one really seemed to go down easy, giving up very little of a fight. She’d probably digest in a few minutes, or at least look like regular digestion by then. Her stomach fat did wonders to hide prey within once her gut had its way with them. “Hey, Jans, just wanted to let you know it was just a misunderstanding, she did pay,” came Serrin’s voice from the door of the tavern. Thankfully, she was out of sight…but it sounded like she was getting closer. GroooOOOOOOAAAN… Jans cursed under her breath as her stomach practically called Serrin over here. Worse, yet, she could feel a belch coming… Sure enough, Serrin rounded the corner and spotted her missing bouncer…and her missing patron. The outline of a hand pressed out of Jansmere’s stomach, faintly visible amongst her stretched out scales. If her gut wasn’t coated with layers upon layers of fat, Serrin might have even heard the devoured’s cries. Aside from the incessant gurgles from within Jansmere, there was a moment of silence. It all made sense to Serrin, now. There was no way that just her tavern’s food was responsible for all this growth… “So this is where they all end up,” she said simply, staring at the moving stomach, which seemed to be dying down. “Serrin, I swear, it’s not what it looks like, I–” oOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRP! It finally came up, a belch confirming the sealed fate of the innocent patron. By now, she was merely a slurry of chyme in the dragonborn’s guts and a brief aftertaste of a burp in Jans’ mouth. “Okay, well maybe it is what it looks like. But they deserved it! Well, except this one, heh…” Jans commented l, her mind racing for ways to get out of this pickle. Her stomach had an idea. Jans didn’t like it. Serrin was a friend of hers, and the provider of so much food, she couldn’t eat her! But, her stomach was getting a bit peckish. Another person would definitely fill her stomach, and would stretch her limits, especially considering the first was still digesting. Speaking of which… Booooou*hic*uuurp The indigestibles came up, including pieces of a staff, a belt buckle, and of course, a handful of gold coins. It was meager compared to former amounts, but still enough to pay for a feast’s worth in the tavern. Serrin’s attention turned from the insatiable belly of Jansmere towards the coins on the ground, staring at the wet currency. This was her number one source of profit after all… “I won’t tell anyone as long as I get everything you make from this.” Jansmere tilted her head, surprised. “...do I still get tavern food?” “Our initial agreement stands,” offered Serrin. Compared to the money that Jansmere could make, her prepared tavern meals were chump change, even considering the vast amount that the dragonborn required. The tavern’s bouncer smiled with a hungry, toothy grin. “Deal.” She was still in business. After Serrin collected the coins, ready to head back inside and take care of her tavern, a devious idea entered her head. “If you’re still hungry…there’s a drunk ranger with an immense amount of coin to spend. I can kick him out in an hour.” groooOOOOOOOOANNNN Jans’ stomach had made up its mind. And so had she. One more wouldn’t hurt. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Two Weeks Later HAULP Jansmere gulped, but her progress on this one was slow. Why did he have to wear plate armor to a tavern… HAULP Another portion of the warrior down. The taste was unbearable…but the meat within made it worth it. HAULP His kicking legs were all that was left. Compared to his other more-armored portions, these were easy. GUUUUUULP With one final swallow, the rest of the burly firbolg knight went down. It was about time, groaned her stomach, as it already got to work on her lunch. As time between dinners seemed to get longer and longer, Jans’ hunger demanded that she start eating people at other meals. Breakfast soon began at Serrin’s inn, as the elven business owner would direct her bouncer to travelers who had stayed the night…and had presumably evaded attracting Jansmere’s attention the night prior. As many of them were still asleep, they made easy meals. At lunch, adventurers would start to stream into the tavern. When one would enter, Jansmere would typically be engorging herself on a feast fit for a half-dozen paladins, but would quickly lose interest and start ogling the new customer like a dragon eying a flock of sheep. Since there were normally other patrons around, she’d have to wait on Serrin’s approval to pounce, but soon, once the coast was clear or the targeted patron left, Jans would leap from her special booth and chase after her prey. Not one had escaped. This day, however, there was a hitch in Serrin’s plans to feed Jansmere properly. It was a slow day, and Jans had been aching for anyone to come in through the tavern doors. Once the firbolg entered, she couldn’t contain herself, practically launching herself at the unsuspecting knight and devouring him. She figured it was just Serrin and her in the tavern, so there was no need to skulk around. She was wrong. As the knight’s final cries were heard, one of Serrin’s waiters gasped in horror, gaping at Jansmere. Serrin, emerging from the kitchen with more food for her bouncer, also caught the scene. This was the first time her dragonborn employee had eaten a person in the tavern, and the first time she had been caught doing so. Maybe she was getting out of control, Serrin thought before addressing the situation. Her response was quick. Her golden goose of a bouncer was worth a lot more to her than a single waiter. “Jans, deal with him, too. You’re getting clumsy,” she said, before the dragonborn quickly reacted by bounding towards the waiter at an alarming rate. Though the waiter tried to run, there was no way for him to avoid the massive dragonborn. Happy to consume a person without armor, she practically slurped up the staff member, saliva dripping down her snout while he slipped past her gullet. This one was heavy…he no doubt ate plenty of tavern food. He was the perfect addition to Jans’ already large lunch. Finally, she was satisfied. As she collapsed on the floor in ecstasy, bloated stomach moving and gurgling with two writhing prey, Serrin eyed her concerningly. How would she be ready for the dinner rush with less staff? How would she even run a tavern if Jansmere ate all her patrons? UUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRP! Belched the draconic blob. By this point, burping up the indigestables stopped causing problems for her. They came easy now, launching out of Jans’ maw and clattering on the wood floor. Dozens of coins and other articles of the knight’s loot littered the area around Jansmere. Considering the profits once again, it was then that Serrin realized she wasn’t running a tavern anymore. She was running an all-you-can eat buffet for one patron. That afternoon, Serrin laid plans to adapt her tavern for this new role. With how busy evenings could get, she needed a way to keep Jansmere hidden yet still well-fed with patrons. It was a lot to ask, but thankfully, she had just the place. Back before she knew Jansmere was eating her patrons, when she thought her tavern was simply getting better business, Serrin had started building an expansion for it. She hadn’t quite figured out what to do with the extra space, whether it would simply be extra seating or a private room for group reservations, so it was currently empty. Now, it would be a trap for adventurers... or anyone else that would be worth the coin. All she had to do was keep Jansmere there and keep patrons going in. Jans agreed to her plan. Working with the funds they had both made, Jans even got supplies to set up an antimagic field in the room to deter the actions of skilled casters. Now, it would purely be a physical fight for the dragonborn to dine, a fight she was confident to win. From her perspective, all of this would mean more food. Serrin would watch her back outside the room, and she would be able to handle anything that would come in. It would be an endless stream of meals that she didn’t have to chase anymore. Thinking about this as she settled into the empty room, her stomach started groaning in anticipation. And with the anticipation came hunger. She had just eaten, yeah, but maybe Serrin would send in an afternoon snack. GroooAAAAANNnn… Yeah, she better. –---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- That Evening Ah, tavern food. Sure, it wasn’t as glamorous as some of the delicacies Duchess Enevarr was used to, but it was certainly more hearty. No tiny gilded dishes here, only platters upon platters of comfort food. The portion sizes were to die for, and that’s what made it a worthwhile meal for the lizardfolk warlock. No more royal pressures, stifling etiquette restrictions, or tiny portions. The adventurer’s life was freeing. Buuurp! She belched uncouthly. And it was delicious. Though she was moving around a lot more as an adventurer than as a noblewoman, the hefty portions of starchy comfort food had left their mark on her. Her belly had grown soft, slightly peeking out beneath her leather jerkin and revealing the plush teal flesh of her paunch. She patted it, absolutely stuffed with the tavern’s food, and prepared to pay the bill. Another perk of tavern food she thought of was how cheap it was. Paying for a full meal was just a drop in the bucket compared to the thousands of gold she had on her from her inheritance and her travels. She could easily order seconds if she so wanted, but she was satisfied. Speaking of paying, the elven bartender was approaching. Before the Duchess could pull out any coin, Serrin began, “Excuse me, Miss, your meal has been paid for by another patron.” Enevarr was baffled. First the food was delicious, and now it was free? Surely if it was from someone she knew, they would know how wealthy she was. This was unexpected. It was probably someone flirting with her, she thought as she rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll bite. Who’s the patron?” “She’s in the private dining room right over there if you wish to convey your thanks,” Serrin said nonchalantly before walking away. She thought acting that way was the best way to pique the customer's interest…it had worked so far… Still baffled, Enevarr rose quickly and moved to the private dining area, rounding a blind corner. She would have to get to the bottom of this. Nothing could have prepared her for what she was about to see as she opened the private door. Before her was the sole patron, a mound of purple dragonborn resting against a massive red cushion. She was the fattest thing Enevarr had seen. There was no padding between the floor and her, but it seemed that the dragonborn was comfortable enough with the sheer amount of fat on her rear to support her body. Her butt spilled out around her, her hips far too wide for any armor to contain, all told at least six feet across. Her neck had long since disappeared, now replaced with greasy, fatty rolls. Her chest sagged with the weight of two massive kegs of ale. And of course, at the center of it all was a gigantic bulbous stomach as large as a carriage. It wasn’t just large, either, it was loud. Bubbly gurgling filled the entire room, serving as the first “greeting” from this ventripotent patron. The gastric cauldron was groaning, moaning for more food. And as she stared at Jansmere in shock, Enevarr realized that it was moving. The food was… Though Jansmere was reclined, and, well, heavier than an owlbear, she was still mobile. With barely an effort, she reached a flabby arm toward the stunned lizardfolk and grabbed her with surprising strength. It was then, in the clutches of the former bouncer, that Enevarr realized that the dragonborn wasn’t just exorbitantly fat, she was bigger than an average humanoid. Her clawed hand alone easily wrapped around the noblewoman’s body. And that clawed hand would not relent, quickly drawing Enevarr closer to Jansmere’s open maw. Her teeth glistened in the dim tavern light, saliva dripping off her snout and onto the jiggling flab of her chins. With her mouth open, even more sounds from the insatiable stomach could be heard. It would be Enevarr’s last destination. Despite the warlock’s wriggling, Jansmere easily yanked the lizardfolk into her mouth, where her hungry maw took over, quickly swallowing the noblewoman, her fourth meal this evening. After Enevarr’s feet disappeared into the black cavern of Jansmere’s throat, the victorious dragonborn lolled her tongue out, resting it on her chins. “Thank the Gods…that one was fat.” She said to nobody in particular as her stomach processed yet another person into mere slosh for her intestines. The number of its victories was still increasing, with no sign of stopping or even declining its exponential rate. All it wanted was more, and Jansmere had to agree. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Two Weeks Later For some reason, the Locke and Key was busy again. Well, busy was a relative term. Before Serrin had switched…business strategies, a busy night would mean at least thirty patrons and staff. Now, as single patrons would gradually disappear into the private dining area and anyone who might possibly become a return customer met an unexpected end, that number would normally be around a dozen. On slower nights, that number would be even less. Earlier in the week there were only seven, and, after Jansmere got to work, there were none. For the last few hours the tavern was open, the only patron heard in the once-bustling establishment was Jansmere. After gorging on the final patron, a water genasi sorcerer, as a mere dessert, she let out a thunderous… BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUuuuuuuUUUUUURPPP! …that shook the walls of the Locke & Key. Such noises were starting to worry some of the staff, but after assuring them that only she, the proprietor, would have to deal with Jans, their fear was temporarily dispelled. She wondered if any of the staff had pieced together what was going on, but wagered that even if they did, their increasing pay would be sufficient to keep them quiet. A couple had faced the misfortune of working on the very slow days, where the demands of Jansmere forced Serrin to liquidate their employment immediately. Those days were truly difficult for her business, but she made do. But today was not one of those days. Today, the Locke & Key was busy, and even worse, it was busy with adventurers. A party of five had made its way into town and essentially crashed in Serrin’s tavern. Rowdy and boisterous, the group was wreaking havoc on the tavern. Platters were dropped on the floor, ale was spilled on tables, and Serrin’s property was being mishandled. With her being short-staffed due to, well, that, Serrin found herself completely occupied with the unruly party. “I can’t believe Evrel thought this place blows. He would love this!” shouted a dwarven fighter as he tossed a knife towards the tavern wall in a game of makeshift darts. “I know, I’m having the time of my life! Another round, please!” responded a chubby owlin druid as she tossed a platter to the wall. “Hey, you’re going to have to pay for that! Please, behave yourselves!” chided Serrin as she dealt with the very situation she hired Jansmere to deal with. The adventurers were too chaotic to deal with, and all her normal plans to get people to the private dining area were failing. On top of all this, Jans hadn’t eaten since the afternoon, and now it was dinner time. Serrin was falling dangerously behind as she tried her best to corral the ruffians. At one point, she passed closely by the private area and could hear Jans’ stomach groaning hungrily for more food, even through the closed door. As if things couldn’t get any worse, another customer entered the tavern: the same red tiefling bard who had pestered her months ago, grinning ear to ear. “Look who’s here!” cheered the rest of the party as he walked in. Sauntering his way directly towards Serrin, the bard immediately began taunting her. “Well, well, well. Looks like someone’s fallen on hard times! Where’s your lard-arse bouncer now?” As if on cue, the entire tavern shook. At first, few noticed this, but when it happened again, the rowdy adventurers all paused and looked in the direction of the noise. Thump after thump, it drew closer, until a red-violet gut rounded the tavern’s corner. Evrel the bard had remembered that the bouncer was fat, but this…this was something unnatural. Her thighs, nearly eight feet wide, had barely squeezed through the door to the private area, which was supposed to fit two humanoids abreast. Her rear wasn’t just wide, either, as the plush lumps of fat still appeared to be plenty spherical for something the size of a boulder. Her stomach, the first thing seen by the adventurers, looked big enough to hold an owlbear, but it wasn’t structured merely as a thin containment space for food. Coating her stomach were rolls upon rolls of fat, each sagging layer jiggling with every motion she made. No doubt the dragonborn had long since kissed being able to wrap her arms around her gut behind as it extended nearly ten feet away from her. The only article of clothing she was wearing were her distinctive brass goggles, the mere accessory the only thing that could truly “fit” her anymore. What was most astonishing was that this once-merely overweight dragonborn was walking, and even more than that, walking tall! Emerging into the main tavern, she looked practically as tall as a hill giant, looming over absolutely everyone in the building. Three months ago, Jans would simply threaten the rabble-rousers, as her job required, but now she had a different job, a different existence. Every breath and every step she took was towards a single goal: food. Without slowing her pace whatsoever, she lunged immediately towards the tiefling. Maybe there was a remnant of her ire that directed her strike; she might have remembered the last time she had seen the annoying bard in the back of her mind. But that wasn’t the focus. At the front of her mind was the fact that he was meat. And she was starving. Astonished but not caught off guard, Evrel dolphin-dived onto the floor, away from Jans’ grasp, throwing her off balance and causing her to topple onto the ground. Given how heavy she was, surely there was no way she could get up quickly. The first blow was a victory, he thought, before he felt an odd sensation on his tail. Jansmere may not have engulfed her prey’s head as normal, but she still caught one part of him. Reacting instantaneously to the taste of flesh, she immediately started to swallow down the tiefling’s tail, her impressive throat muscles yanking the rest of Evrel towards her maw like spaghetti attached to a meatball. And what a meatball he was, she thought as her stomach already started churning in preparation for the first course. This time caught off guard, the bard clawed at the Locke & Key’s floorbords, unsuccessfully looking for anything to hold on to as he was pulled rapidly toward Jansmere. As he felt the dragonborn’s jaws snap around his legs, his strategy changed from evasion to mere pleas. “Don’t just stand there! Help m–” SCHLP His cries went silent as Jansmere’s tongue wrapped around his horned head and immediately pushed him down into her throat. The pace at which he was swallowed shocked everyone as their fearless bard vanished into the ever-hungry pit of the dragonborn’s stomach in a mere second. Now clearly aware that it was their lives on the line, the party of adventurers rose to arms as Jans unexpectedly rose and charged toward them. Reacting first was their tabaxi monk, who immediately attempted to deliver a strike to the dragonborn’s hip with her fist, hoping to immobilize the former-bouncer. The blow struck with immense force, but compared to the copious amounts of flesh on Jansmere, it was a drop in the bucket of damage. In response, the blob of a dragoness lunged towards the tabaxi, but the nimble warrior dodged the chomp of Jans’ jaw with astounding grace. Taking the miss in stride, Jansmere simply kept her movement up and redirected her ire towards the next meal in range, a simple non-adventurer tavern goer currently cowering against the wall. With a yelp and a gulp, another meal was gone. Though she had missed the feline monk with her jaw, there was barely any way for her target to dodge out of the way of a three-ton blob careening towards her at breakneck speeds. While the bouncer engorged herself on the patron, her copious stomach fat pinned the tabaxi to the floor, and as Jansmere continued moving, more and more of her gut surrounded the tabaxi until there was nothing left. The weight of so much mass against her practically smushed the lightweight tabaxi, stunning her. She was out of the fight…for now. Next was the party’s human barbarian, who charged forward to the jaw of Jansmere with reckless abandon. It was an attitude that would get him quickly consumed, as the massive dragonborn’s raw strength overwhelmed the overconfident barbarian as her jaws closed in around his hands. *Gulp!* Protein. Next, Jansmere barreled towards their dragonborn cleric, who was awkwardly trying to cast a spell…any spell, he thought, as he couldn’t understand why his magic wasn’t working. Offering a quick prayer to his deity, the cleric received no response as the jaws of Jansmere closed around him, quickly snapping him and another patron up, punishing them for their inactivity. GLLLLLP! Swallowing two people at once was new to Jansmere, but she didn’t have the time nor mental clarity to truly comprehend it. The sole thing on her mind was filling her belly with everyone in the room. As soon as the two humanoids entered her gut, she was already looking for her next quarry. Her wild eyes quickly focused on their ranger–or fighter, she couldn’t tell. Hoping to stay as far away from the monumental dragonborn as possible, the dwarf had withdrawn to the edge of the tavern, preparing his longbow. As Jansmere drew near, he let off a couple of arrows into her ample flesh, but it only drove her more wild. She rushed forward with unbelievable velocity, slurping him up in a moment. Half-sized humanoids were barely even a snack for her at this point. He’d be chyme, soon. As she turned around back towards the center of the tavern, she saw the tabaxi monk again, along with another tavern patron trying his best to wake her up from her dazed state. Being smothered with thousands of pounds of dragonborn fat had evidently left its mark. Soon, the tabaxi would be leaving her mark on the dragonborn’s fat, though in a different way than she would have hoped. Leaning down next to the two humanoids like a dog at a kibble bowl, Jansmere snatched the monk’s leg and sucked her into her gullet. A taloned, purplish claw quickly nabbed the patron and threw her in as well. It was then that Jansmere noticed a strange feeling creeping up in her gut: she was full. There were eight people in her gut right now, all writhing against each other and hoping for any way of escape. Though her stomach was definitely feeling tight, it still felt hungry. Her gluttony was overriding any other emotions or physical feelings she may have felt right now, so she kept eating. The only adventurer left, the owlin druid, seemed to be taking the coward’s way out. Rushing to the door, she even thrust a fleeing patron aside in an effort to be the first one out. Seeing her run, Jansmere bounded into a dash of her own. GLP! She quickly slurped up the unfortunate patron in her way, the obstacle the owlin created barely buying her a second of time. She would’ve needed a lot more to escape Jansmere. Just as she started opening the door to the outside, she felt something hard, warm, and slimy around her legs. She was snapped by the dragonborn’s maw, and it already seemed like she was getting a taste of the druid’s chunky legs. The fatty, squirming poultry was exactly what Jansmere wanted, her taste absolutely divine. Because of this, she took her time eating the owlin, eventually swallowing her down after a whole five seconds of tasting. As the taste faded in her mouth, her stomach commanded yet again for more food. She stood up, looking around the tavern for the remaining patrons she knew were still here. Though her gut sagged to the ground now with excess weight, she kept moving forward towards the bar. Every step she took, her blubbery flanks jostled and rippled. Though they were thick with layer upon layer of fat, there was still more than enough muscle to keep her unfathomably large body moving. All she needed was more…food…to keep them running. As she stepped closer, one of the patrons peeked around his hiding spot behind the bar, locking eyes immediately with the bright blue eyeslits of Jansmere. Screaming in terror, knowing his location was compromised, he made a mad dash to the door, hoping to dodge the eight-foot-wide dragonborn. As with the adventurers, there was no escape. Jansmere simply picked him up and shoved him into her gullet slowly. The final remaining patron, who was also hiding behind the bar along with Serrin, caught the doomed tavern-goer’s final moments. With the sheer size of her bulbous chins, there wasn’t even a bulge in her throat when he went down. Yet still, she stepped towards the bar, looming over it like a beast looking for a drink. Reaching both flabby arms behind it, she yanked the remaining two individuals towards her mouth. After realizing that one of them was Serrin, what little logic remained in her head reacted and set her down immediately. As for the final patron, however, his many days of being a regular at the Locke & Key were all over. Now, he would simply be a regular part of Jans’ hips, belly, or chins. Or all of the above. GULLLLP! With the final person down, Jansmere knew that she had both sated her appetite and done her job. No one witnessed her consume so many people…well, no one that wouldn’t be slurry in her intestines in an hour, that is. Finally finished, she toppled onto her back to relieve some of the pressure on her bloated, roiling, and squirming stomach. There were a dozen people in there, all part of a single massive meal for Jansmere. Such a dinner was titanic, even for the dragonborn, but yet, she downed it without difficulty and loved every minute of it. All she needed now was a drink. Thankfully, Serrin was still here, presently rolling a keg in Jansmere’s direction. “Nicely done, Jans. I can’t imagine the loot on those adventurers…and thanks for clearing the rest of the room, too,” she said, directing the tap handle toward her slobbery snout, the dragonborn’s tongue lolled outwards in ecstasy. Before becoming the insatiable all-consuming void she was now, Jansmere would normally respond to something like this, but now, the only thing on her mind was how full her gut was. She was grateful, though, when Serrin opened the tap and ale cascaded into her mouth. She chugged it happily, washing down a dozen people with gallons of the sweet nectar. As Jansmere glutted herself with ale, Serrin cleaned the tavern and lost herself in thought. That one was close. She had practically felt Jans’ breath over her. She was inches away from being the final course in a twelve-person meal. But she wasn’t. Jansmere put her down after she saw who she was. She was honoring their agreement. Still, with all the funds she had accumulated, Serrin thought now might be a good time to retire. Disappear to some far off coastal country, thousands of gold richer, and let Everington deal with Jansmere. It would work, probably, but Serrin knew there was still a fair amount of gold to be milked out of this place. “More,” bellowed Jans, and Serrin immediately responded by rolling a second keg towards her. More gold to be milked out of her, that is. By now, the movements in the immense stomach had stopped, but its groaning had not. Inside, the mixture of people, ale, loot, clothing, weapons, and of course, stomach juices, were being processed and slurped inwards by Jans’ intestines. It was a daunting task, but it was still one that her stomach was eager to perform. Soon, what was once a gut with the defined shape of prey mellowed out into a single globular, sloshing mound. As Jans finished her second keg of ale, she placed her hands on her victorious insatiable gut. She could feel a belch coming up, but she’d try her best to contain it. Boour-OOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRP! Letting out a small burp was impossible with a meal that large. Instead, Jansmere released a belch that shook the very ground. Serrin had to cover her ears, already thinking that she’d definitely get some complaints from her neighbors from this… ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Two Weeks Later Soon, there were no more neighbors. Jans had eaten them to keep them quiet. There were no more Locke & Key regulars. Every single one had stewed away. There were no more staff, either. Serrin had to guarantee their silence and keep Jansmere fed. Thankfully she could do both at once. There were no more tables of chairs in the tavern. Serrin had cleared them away to make more space for Jansmere, who now sat in the dead center of the building, ready to snatch up any unfortunate traveler who walked through the door. That number had been getting dangerously low lately, and Jansmere was getting angry. To compensate, Serrin had started buying livestock to sate the dragonborn’s appetite, albeit temporarily. Sheep, pigs, cows, even horses were bought for the explicit purpose of feeding the ex-bouncer. Such…expenses were the final nail in the coffin for Serrin. She was losing money now, albeit a very small amount, and the disappearing townsfolk had finally caused the watch to start an investigation. The captain of the guard was heading it, and made the foolish mistake to come to the Locke & Key alone. He went straight to her thighs. Since the effort was no longer profitable, Serrin decided it was time to leave. Most of her travel and home items had been packed; the only thing left was to get the rest of her coin that she still had stored at the Locke & Key. Knowing she’d have to play it safe around Jansmere’s appetite, she arrived at the tavern on horseback with a few mules in tow. They were cheap, large, and could buy her enough time to get her money and leave, so she planned. Upon opening the door, she wisely sent the mules in, one at a time. She was thankful she had decided to make the tavern doors so wide, a feature that now certainly came in handy. Eager for breakfast, Jansmere consumed the equines one gulp at a time at the pace it used to take her to eat a person. Now, that pace was no longer than a second. After shoving in the final mule, Serrin prepared to enter. “More,” came a voice from the tavern, reserved but still deep, accompanied by the cacophony of gurgles, groans, and hee-haws from her stomach. Serrin rolled her eyes. She didn’t have the time to get more livestock, nor did she want to. Regretfully, she guided her horse to the tavern door, ready to deal with this as fast as possible. With a frightened neigh, the colossal dragonborn laid hold of the horse and snapped on its head. It was just meat, after all. Knowing that there was no more food with her and that Jans would be occupied with her travel companion for a while, Serrin walked into the tavern with confidence in her step, acting like she belonged. She didn’t run, but she also didn’t walk as if she was on a pleasant stroll. Jansmere definitely noticed her as she slurped on the horse’s midsection, but thankfully chose to focus on th equine. Confident that Jans viewed her as the supplier of food and not food herself, she moved behind the bar to access her safe. It was time to withdraw the digestion-spared coin. BUUUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP! Jansmere let out what was now merely a modest burp, finished with her breakfast. Her stomach groaned, her intestines already slurping down the digested remains of the first mule. She would be done with the rest soon. “More!” she shouted, stomach already demanding more food to sate it. Serrin swore to herself, finally opening the safe and pulling out the leather pouches full of coin. Now all she had to do was to get by Jans…but she couldn’t do that now, not while the beast’s gluttony was screaming for sustenance. Thankfully, the sound of heavy footsteps outside announced her salvation. The arrivals spoke loudly, and Serrin could hear a few phrases: “Cap’n was last sighted here–” “What the deuce is that groaning noise?” The town guard. Normally their arrival meant the malefactor would be dealt with. For Serrin, it simply meant they’d buy her time. For Jansmere, it meant food. As three soldiers of Everington’s guard entered the Locke & Key, not knocking since it was an open establishment, the monster at the center of the tavern stood up. Her head bumped against the 12-foot-tall ceiling, the once-humanoid figure standing tall despite…everything. Every part of her body screamed “heavy,” from her wide, taloned feet, to her fat-ringed ankles, to her thunderous thighs, and then to her rear. It was incomprehensibly large, each cheek bigger than a whole tavern table. No seat could fit her, now, but surely the blubber on her posterior was seat enough. Her head looked like it was submerged behind layer upon layer of adipose, her neck rolls creeping outwards around her snout. Her long tongue rested on her tremendous chins, eager to run itself across or push in any meat that stood in its way. Her arms, though still mobile, sagged with thick, violet fat. To top it all off was the gurgling, churning, demanding gut that took up more space than a halfling’s home. By now, she was about as large as an actual dragon, albeit a young one, but her doughy, bipedal body separated herself from her draconic cousins. She was still a dragonborn…just with the appetite and weight of fifty of them. Not prepared for the sight of a person this large, most of the watch were caught off guard as she swiped toward them. Two now in her claws, she quickly stuffed them down her gullet as the final guard drew his weapons. Jans didn’t care. She would eat whatever meat came near her, whether it was armed, magic, running, hiding, pleading, or doing anything else. It was all food. And she was hungry. Lunging forward to the final guard, she pinned him to the ground and began aggressively slurping at him with her long tongue. Soon, he was gone, but she still wanted more. A fringe of moving color appeared in Jans’ peripheral vision; in her current gluttonous state, she reacted as she always did. Shifting all her weight, she leapt toward the moving thing. Moving typically meant food. As she pinned the figure to the hardwood floor of the Locke & Key with her titanic gut, she stared downward into the eyes of a silver-haired elven woman who was trying to escape. Serrin looked up at her former bouncer. Already, her snout was open, saliva dripping down its sides and onto her face. GROOOOOOOOOAAAAAAANNNNNnnnnn… Her stomach moaned, mulching down hundreds of pounds of meat and groaning for more, clearly in control of Jansmere now. There was no recognition in Jansmere’s eyes, only hunger. With one swift motion, Jans surrounded the elf’s head with her jaws, sucking her inwards. In a moment, Serrin’s feet unceremoniously slipped into the dragonborn’s gullet. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Epilogue Though much of her sense had been replaced by sheer gluttony, Jansmere still possessed her wits. They were wits heavily biased by her hunger, but she still comprehended what she was doing. She knew she had eaten hundreds of individuals and had gained thousands upon thousands of pounds. She knew she was getting larger and larger, wider and taller, and that she felt stronger than ever. Above all, she knew she felt good. Every increasing meal had led to an increased feeling of ecstacy and satisfaction. Fully cognizant of the destruction she had caused, she still wanted more. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPP!! Piles of coins, armor, and weapons flew out of Jansmere’s mouth. She also realized that she ate Serrin, her prior source of food, the coin clattering on the ground reminding her of her former job. Rising from her resting spot in the Locke & Key, Jansmere opened the doors to see a new day on the horizon. She’d have to find her own food, now, but at her current size, she didn’t think that would be much of a problem. She had long bragged that she could out-eat and out-drink anyone in Everington, but now she would really prove it by eating everyone in Everington. “Gods, I’m starving.”