Substitute Royalty (free fixed reupload)

Hey, y'all! So, the original upload of this fic got taken down by Patreon cause they didn't like one of the words I used, and they've since refused to unblock it even though I removed the word. I don't want to fight with the site over this and have them maybe reconsider any of my other fics, so I'm just gonna let them have the win and reupload the fic (edited to be sans word, ofc). I did have a couple people buy the fic, and I refuse to let this affect those awesome people negatively, so this fic will be totally free~. Say thank you to big bro Patreon, everyone!

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“Yes, yes, I’m getting it- OUCH! Hey, no biting! Do you want to go in the time-out box!? Huh!?”

Vanity scowled as a particularly feisty pixie stuck her tongue out at her. Little menace. If Vanity wasn’t so fond of the blighters, she’d have strangled them ages ago.

There was a point long in the past that the fae were mystified, respected, revered- all those noble-sounding terms of endearment. Then science became popular, it got so advanced that it got on even footing with magic, and the fae stopped being so mysterious and spooky. Now, apart from some of the bigger, wiser ones, they're just nuisances.

“Ok, we’ve got the cherries over here, the grapes over here, the apples over- Grie, what do you think you’re doing?”

A small, delicate-looking pixie with brown hair and beautiful grey wings peeked out from around an apple Vanity had just set down. Her cheeks were puffed out and a dribble of juice ran down her chin. She swallowed hard, then eeked out, “N-Nothing! I swear!”

“I’ll swear if you don’t wait,” Vanity growled. She reached over and plucked the little gremlin from her spot, despite her squeak of protest. Like every pixie Vanity had ever known, Grie was a veritable beanpole. Small chest, bony hips, and a flat tum. To be fair, their bodies kinda had to be this way so that they could fly, but it still made Vanity a little sad for them. A little jealous too, considering how thin they are, despite… yeah.

“I-I’ll be good! Just please don’t eat me!” Grie squealed as she flailed around, her wings beating the air uselessly behind her. Vanity had her by the back of her dress, which she could slip out of to escape if not for the wingholes keeping her locked in.

Vanity rolled her eyes. “I’m a demon, not a monster. I’m not gonna eat you. You just need to wait two freaking seconds so I can get dinner all set up so EVERYONE can eat! Kapische?”

Grie solemnly nodded. Content with that, Vanity released her tiny captive and let her flitter away to join her sisters on the kitchen counter. There were twenty of the little menaces in all, each with a different strain of genes affecting their size and wings. Pixies, despite being more closely related to flowers than any type of bug, develop similarly to all kinds of butterflies. Everything from their hair to their wings and even their size are affected. As such, the twenty pixies on the kitchen counter made a veritable rainbow of colors. The beauty of it might’ve moved Vanity if they weren’t all drooling over the fruit feast she was laying out for them.

See, Vanity had a very… unique job. Pixies are entirely monarchal; they have a queen, like a colony of bees, that they serve for life. The two exceptions for this are if the queen dies or if they get exiled for bad behaviour. In those cases, the pixies will search for a new queen to serve. That’s easier said than done considering that fae in general (let alone pixies) are the least common type of demihuman in the world. This wouldn’t be that bad if they just kept searching, but if they can’t find a new queen soon enough, pixies will get bored and pick a random woman to be their new queen. Again, this wouldn’t be that bad if they actually listened to their new ‘queen’. That’s where problems arise.

Pixie queens use pheromones to control their nests. Without pheromones, pixies will do pretty much whatever they think the queen would like. As expected, what pixies like and what humans, demons, and other average-sized demihumans want are very, very different. So, to prevent the standard cases of theft, arson, assault, kidnapping, and public destruction that will occur if left unchecked, stray pixies are captured and provided with a new ‘queen’. That’s what Vanity was; a surrogate queen.

The job wasn’t all bad. Sure, pixies were tiny nuisances, but they were also adorable and showered her with unconditional love (usually). The pay wasn’t bad, she got benefits, and she only had to work half the month. Every other week, she’d swap out with a surrogate ‘sprite queen’, who the pixies would attach to. Sprites and pixies apparently live together under normal circumstances, which is why that works apparently. Sprites are more diligent in their search for a new queen, often travelling thousands of miles in their searches, meaning there was no need for sprites to be taken in. Just the menaces that are pixies.

“Come on, come on, come on! I’m soooo hungry!” cried Ret, a rambunctious orange-haired pixie whose yellow wings looked like they had tiger stripes. Her sharp little teeth glittered in the kitchen’s light as she complained, “Why do we have to wait!? We’re all here! Just let us eat!”

“Yeah, yeah!” chimed in most of the other pixies.

“Tough tootsies, squirts,” Vanity said simply while heaving the final fruit, an entire watermelon, out of a grocery bag. She thumped it onto the table and turned to address the pixies, “Remember, if you can’t stand up anymore, you’ve eaten enough. Ready?”

The pixies all nodded, some of them even starting to drool.

“Then have at it.”

A chorus of cheers was immediately followed by a loud fluttering of wings. A cavalcade of colors blinded Vanity for a moment before her ears filled with the sounds of slurping, chewing, gulping, and happy squeals. She chuckled as she sat down at the table’s singular chair. Time to make sure that no one popped themselves tonight.

The first one to watch out for was Ret, the overeager one. All of the pixies had some strange habits, especially when it came to eating, but Ret’s was by far the most dangerous. See, she didn’t like to chew. She would just shove whatever she could fit into her mouth, swallow it whole, and keep going. Chunks of pie, whole chocolate chips, entire mouthfuls of honey- whatever it was, Ret would swallow it down in one go.

The same held true for today. The mini-menace was attacking the grapes. She would tear one off of a stem, cram the whole oblong green fruit into her mouth until her neck started to bulge, then swallow. Ret was on the large side of the pixie growth scale, standing at about ten inches tall, but a whole grape was still a large load to force down in one go. Her throat would billow outward, obviously straining to push such a large object down, until one could visibly see her chest push out even underneath her tiny black and orange jumper. Then her belly would push out with a FWOOMP motion, instantly making her look like she was hiding food underneath her clothes (again). She wasn’t, though; it was just an entire grape jutting out from her abdomen. Then, naturally, because pixies are bottomless gluttons, she would cram another grape into her mouth and repeat the process. Then another- and another.

It was easy to tell how many grapes Ret had eaten. Each one pressed out against her skin in a distinct manner, letting Vanity count. Finally, after grape number seven, Vanity reached out and pulled the eighth treat from the greedy faerie’s grip. “Leg check, Ret. Can you stand up?”

The orange-haired pixie scowled at Vanity. She was lying on her belly, using the bumps from the grapes pushing against her skin as a sort of tripod to stay upright. She braced her legs underneath her, then started straining to stand up. Her face went red and her legs trembled. Her belly started to inch off the ground, until… she collapsed on top of herself, panting and rubbing her stressed belly.

“That’s what I thought. You’re done, brat. Mull, help her get to bed.”

Out of all the pixies, Mull was Vanity’s favorite. She was a quiet, reserved pixie, which was already unusual for her kind, but also- she HELPED Vanity! She would stay by her side, listen to her requests, and even do simple tasks! Also, she had some kind of massive butterfly genes in her since she was just over a foot tall, making it easy for her to keep the other pixies in check. Vanity was sure she’d like this job a lot less if she didn’t have the reliable Mull to help her out.

At Vanity’s request, Mull got up from where she was sitting next to Vanity and fluttered her deep-blue wings. Her long, silky black hair flowed around her as she drifted over to Ret, who was trying to hastily scarf down one last grape. The angry ginger pixie squeaked indignantly as Mull looped her arms underneath Ret’s arms and lifted her upwards. The angry chirping continued even after Mull had flown her out of the room. Vanity rolled her eyes. Just how could one tiny creature be so self-destructively gluttonous…?

Still, this was common for pixies. After all, Vanity was about to need to stop a second pixie from popping herself.

Over by the cherries, a pixie with vibrant yellow hair and green wings was lying belly-up and groaning. Her face and yellow  tank-top were stained red from the cherries’ red juice and she was surrounded by a pile of well-cleaned cherry pits. Her belly towered above her, easily the height of her legs when standing. Despite this, as Vanity watched, she grabbed a cherry stem from the pile of remaining cherries and pulled it to herself. She held it above her head, which was no mean feat considering she was only about eight inches tall, and licked her lips. She then mashed it against her face. A series of horrid chewing and snarfing sounds accompanied the trembling of her belly as it swelled even more, growing rounder even as it stretched for the sky. Before long, she had tossed the stem aside and was spinning the cherry pit in front of her mouth, cleaning it like one would do to corn-on-the-cob.

As fun as it was to watch the radioactive-looking pixie eat, her belly looked like it was becoming red for a different reason than just cherry juice now. Vanity reached over and gave the tiny terror’s belly a light squeeze, eliciting a moan. “Your tum’s hard as a cherry pit, Rox. Time to sleep this off.”

Mull, who had just returned, lifted a weakly protesting Rox from the table, being careful to support her taut, pink belly. The two left, once again leaving behind a trail of protests about wanting to eat even more. Seriously, how did pixies manage to survive without a queen? Without Vanity here, every single one of these little problem gremlins would have exploded by now…

Vanity’s babysitting duty lasted another fifteen minutes. One by one, each of the pixies ate themselves to the point of immobility and had to be forced away from the table. Jiq, an orange-winged pixie with speckled black hair, had to be pulled out from a pile of gutted kiwi skins. Cinna, the feisty pixie with hair as red as her wings, was dragged kicking and screaming from where she’d devoured almost an entire banana on her own, leaving her gut as bulbous and firm as a pool ball. A black and cyan-winged pixie with white hair named Bit even fell into a food coma the moment a mostly-eaten plum was pulled from her hands. Finally, after all the usual problems were escorted away from their sugar addiction, there were only three pixies left; Mull, Grie, and Kep.

Grie, while one of the hungriest and most vocal of the pixies, was actually another of Vanity’s favorites. Despite being a problem child, she was one of the very few Vanity didn’t have to worry about popping. This wasn’t from some kind of self-restraint or anything; the girl was just too damn rubbery. Whatever butterfly she was borne from might look delicate, but it was apparently a durable mo-fo since its pixie counterpart could do pretty much whatever she pleased and wake up the next morning feeling right as rain. Vanity had watched that gremlin use a dryer as a sauna, practice fencing with the garbage disposal, fly through heavy rain that had pummelled Mull to the ground, and even carve her initials into a telephone pole with her bare teeth. Grie would outlive every other living thing she met and she knew it. That was why, even as the craven fae finished off her second whole apple, licked her lips, and rolled herself over to a whole peach to continue eating, Vanity didn’t bother to stop her. Her energy would give out before her stomach did. Vanity just had to wait.

Kep, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. She was one of the smallest pixies, only reaching about six inches tall with black hair and speckled orange wings, and unlike her sisters, she would stop eating well before it got dangerous. That said, she still ate far more than a human would for her size. She was just about winding down her meal now, finishing the night off with a couple ounces of honey. She ate slowly, stopping every few seconds to burp silently and rub her stomach. She was the only pixie that even remotely acknowledged that she was eating more than she should, and for that, Vanity loved her. That said, she would still need to be carried to bed. The poor thing had a belly the size of a kiwi. She was not getting her bony butt off the table. Even as Vanity watched, her eyes blinked wearily. She slowly fell forward, eyes shutting one last time, and fell asleep, mouth coated in sticky honey and one hand still in the half-empty saucer. She breathed serenely, napping away on top of her glutted belly. Vanity’s adorable little glutton. She’d take Kep to bed in a little while, after the other two had finished. No need to bother Mull with it; that girl had to eat, too, after all.

And eat she did. Even though Grie still beat her out in sheer appetite, Mull still ate more than enough to be the biggest glutton in the house thanks to being physically the largest fairy. The watermelon Vanity had set out earlier had been for her and her alone. The foot-tall woman, after helping Vanity police her sisters for overeating, would take her turn to stuff herself to the brim with sugary foodstuffs. She was a sight to behold, managing to gorge herself so quickly while still managing to preserve some sense of grace and dignity. Or maybe Vanity just saw it that way because this was the one and only pixie she respected. 

Either way, it only took Mull about eight minutes to cram the entire watermelon (sans rind) into her stomach. She had a special technique to it. She would split the melon in half (she’d jab her hands in about halfway and rip the thing apart - it was terrifying, honestly) and hollow out one half, working her way inside-out until there was no red left. She wouldn’t be able to fly after that, considering her gut was already the same size as herself, so she’d snag the other half of the melon and keep hold of it. As she gorged, she’d slowly drag herself into it, giving her belly plenty of space to grow in the first melon-half’s empty shell while always keeping new juicy flesh within mouth’s reach.

At the end of the meal, Vanity was left alone with three snoozing balls of fae. She’d pick up the pale kiwi that was Kep first, since she was the lightest. Her belly was always taut, smooth, and warm; a pleasant little bundle to hold. Then she’d take the auburn honeydew that was Grie to bed next. Here, Vanity always reveled in the real reason she was never concerned about Grie overeating; despite eating several pounds worth of fruit, this little piglet’s belly was still soft and malleable, to the point where her belly slightly oozed over the sides of Vanity’s hands. It was fun to play with, but also, slightly concerning. Finally, it was Mull’s turn. Her creamy belly was, obviously, the size of a watermelon. It was tight, spherical, and heavy, but didn’t feel in danger of splitting like some of the other pixies’ often did. It was difficult to move her, though. Vanity had to huff as she hauled the thick, heavy fae into her nest, which had been built extra-sturdily to support the extra-large pixie’s extra-large meals.

Finally, after all that, Vanity was left alone. She would clean up all the fruit detritus- an absolute bloodbath of juice, peels, and seeds. Then she’d get around for bed herself. She’d need to be up on time to keep the girls in line in the morning, after all, and those little shits woke up pretty dang early considering how many calories they had to digest every night.  It was beyond crazy how they didn’t gain weight, all things considered. Not like Vanity. Even with only doing her own thing once a week, she was still…

The demoness paused in front of the mirror during her nighttime routine, examining herself. She grimaced as she pinched her side. She had the very start of a love handle developing on her otherwise great body. She couldn’t complain too much about it. She’d been cursed with great genes. Five-eight, bubble butt with perky boobs, great calves. Her four curved horns were notable but unobtrusive, easily hideable with a hat but also able to be shown off if she wanted to. Plus, as mentioned, she had four horns. Not every demon with Sin blood had four horns. She was just great like that~.

Eh, she couldn’t get too full of herself. She was working this career-less job as a surrogate queen, after all, and she was even gaining weight. She was a succubus; gaining weight was hard to do unless she was aiming for her T&A, yet she was managing it anyways. It just went to show how hard she was ‘working’ that one day a week…

Speaking of which, it was tomorrow, wasn’t it? Vanity’s special day. She swallowed hard, her stomach rumbling already. To think, she’d once dreaded this day every week. Succubi could grow to love anything, she supposed. Still, she’d take loving it over hating it. She just hoped she’d be able to stop once she moved on from this job. Keeping this up would be murder on her wallet if she had to pay for it herself…

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“Ok, guys, remember the rules: one at a time, make sure it's safe, and when I’m done, I’m done, ok?”

The prismatic swarm of fae all chipped in agreement, clearly impatient to start. Even the reserved Mull, who normally sat with Vanity and helped keep the others in line, just couldn’t sit still, an eager gleam in her eyes as she hovered a few feet away.

Vanity took a deep breath. Then… “Ok, guys. Your queen’s hungry. Have at it.”

Just like that, the swarm burst. Blurs of color dispersed this way and that. None stayed in the room; they all zipped straight towards either the kitchen or the front door. Mull led the smaller group going towards the door, while Ret spurred the charge into the kitchen. Within seconds, the front door had opened and closed, and there was the sound of manic activity in the kitchen. Vanity rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but get excited. She was about to get the true royal experience, after all.

Turns out, it wasn’t just the rank and file pixies that ate far more than they should. The queens would also glut themselves into oblivion. Hell, it was even common practice for the queens to have their subjects stuff them. This wasn’t a newly discovered tidbit of info, but it wasn’t a part of the surrogate queen program until some new studies showed that surrogate pixie subjects were feeling anxious that their queens were starving since they weren’t getting fed. Still, due to the… logistics of letting pixies feed a non-pixie, it still wasn’t required in the surrogate queen program. It just netted you bonus pay. Bonus pay that Vanity was gonna use to buy a new purse. And maybe a gym membership. But definitely a purse.

Before long, several of the pixies were zipping back into the living room, where Vanity was reclined on the couch. The demoness had opted for a baggy  blue t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms, knowing full well that little else would fit in a short while. Each pixie was hauling a different food item with them, ready to feed their queen. And there was Vanity, the queen, ready to be fed.

The first to make their offering was the ever-active Ret. The first to overstuff herself, Ret was also the first to stuff others, and she started the morning off with a Hawaiian sweet roll. At one point, Vanity had taken the food to eat, but she found that the little creatures got very happy when she let them put the food directly into her mouth, so she’d started letting them do as they pleased. She opened her mouth wide and let Ret cram the sweet roll into her mouth. Well… ‘cram’ was a harsh word for what this was. For all her spunk, Ret had the strength of a hummingbird. No matter how much she stomped and shoved, that roll was only getting halfway into Vanity’s mouth. 

Still, it was the thought that counts, right? Vanity played along, working her tongue and teeth to subtly pull the roll into her mouth. Once in, she gave the tiger-colored pixie and thumbs up as she worked through the mass of bread in her cheeks. Ret wiped some sweat off her brow, flashed Vanity a cheeky grin, and zipped off again to find something else to shove in Vanity’s face. Probably another roll, in all likelihood. Ret wasn’t very creative. She’d bring Vanity whatever she found first, and since there were sixteen rolls in a package, Vanity figured she knew what Ret’s next fifteen offerings were going to be.

Next up was Bit. The sleepy pixie had lugged in a cold slice of pizza from the fridge. Vanity still wasn’t sure how this little seven-inch woman who was struggling to hold up a pizza slice was managing to open the fridge, but she always brought Vanity cold foods, so she apparently had a system going for her. Vanity swallowed down the last of her roll and let Bit feed her, bite by bite.

After that, a pixie on the larger side named Addie had a bag of walnuts for Vanity. The demoness had to, once again, explain to the black-and-white winged fae that she could not eat unshelled walnuts, and that her teeth would shatter if she tried. Addie went back to the kitchen, still looking confused. Vanity wondered if Addie would be back with the unshelled sunflower seeds or the unshelled pistachios next. She really needed to tell the shoppers to buy some unshelled nuts and seeds for feeding day.

This cycle continued for some time, with the twelve pixies that had stayed home operating a continuous buffet line for Vanity. It was all simple food, of course. Not one of the pixies knew how to cook- not even Mull, Vanity’s favorite. They didn’t need to, after all, and had never bothered learning how as a result. The best they would do is peel certain fruits, or shell nuts (sometimes). The only one of them that bothered with leftovers was Bit, who, again, was the only one who seemed able to open the fridge.

Still, while not a gourmet experience, taste wasn’ exactly Vanity’s biggest concern on feeding days. Before too long, she was already feeling full. She slipped a hand under her shirt and grabbed her belly. Sure enough, it was already getting round. She hoped the girls weren’t too hard on her today. As much fun as she’d learned to have with this whole thing, she had a date on Thursday, and she kinda wanted to be able to fit into those sporty blue bits she’d bought last month…

Cinna, the banana lover herself, made sure to keep Vanity’s potassium well-stocked as she brought the demoness exclusively peeled bananas. This wasn’t a today thing, like the seventh roll Ret had brought her; this was an all the time thing. That girl loved bananas. If not for the pixies’ higher eagerness to feed her than to eat, Vanity would probably have to lock up the bananas on feeding day to stop her from popping. At least Vanity liked bananas, even if they started to lose their charm on the seventh one of the day and forty-seventh one of the month.

Filled with bananas, bread, a full pack of cold yogurt, a box of cereal, and plethora of other random junk from the kitchen, Vanity’s belly was clearly not happy. Her gut wasn’t just a little round anymore. It was a full-blown food dome, one that jutted upwards to let itself be shown despite her baggy shirt. Vanity excused herself between offerings to push out a large belch- one that lasted several seconds and tasted of everything the pixies had shoved down Vanity’s throat so far. She grimaced as the taste of bananas mixed with Fruit Loops, pizza, pumpkin seeds, and starbursts. The bloated ‘queen’ groaned as she rubbed her stomach over her shirt, feeling it rumble and gurgle underneath her fingertips. You got this, Vanity… Just gotta focus on the vibes… Ignore the indigestion… Just… Vibes…

Fortunately, Ret’s impatient feeding squad was soon to be joined by Mull’s patient one. The front door opening was the signal that some much better (if not much less healthy) food was about to be brought in. See, with Mull (and, to her credit, Kep) being the way she was, she was actually responsible enough to run errands on her own or with small groups of her sisters. That being the case, every feeding day, Mull would opt to run out to some nearby fast food places to get a variety of foods for Vanity rather than just cramming whatever she could find down the ‘queen’s' throat. She would also bring some of the other more responsible pixies, like Kep, to help her carry all that food back.

Mull had really outdone herself today. From the foyer, an entourage of greasy grub came fluttering in. A bag of burgers, some takeout tacos, some carryout crepes- they’d even gotten a pizza, with the box being flown in by the relentless Rox and a big, slightly buff pixie with speckled emerald wings named Pang. It was only a medium pizza, but with all the other food they’d brought plus what Vanity had already been stuffed with, the demoness was glad it was only a medium.

With the return of Mull, the pixies changed jobs. There was no arguing, no delegation of duties. It was almost instinctual the way they moved to feed their ‘queen’. Ret’s flock of menaces swapped from feeding Vanity to servicing her; they brought her drinks, mopped the sweat from her brow, cleaned up the trash, and even started to rub her belly. Vanity put her arms over her head to let her shirt get dragged off, then moaned in relief as two tiny yet capable hands kneaded her taut gut, working out all the gas her churning gut had produced.

Meanwhile, Mull’s group was getting set up to give Vanity their own offerings. Rather than form a vaguely orderly assembly line of feeding, like before, Mull’s crew each had their own roles. Three of the smaller pixies would prep the food. Remove wrappers, open boxes, reform messy sandwiches- that kinda thing. The two larger girls would feed Vanity, taking turns bringing food to her mouth or working together to cleanly feed her the larger foods, like tacos and burgers. Kep would clean up any messes that were made, wiping Vanity’s mouth of grease or lapping up any sauce that dripped onto her now bare bust. Mull, meanwhile, supervised, keeping an eye out for any pixies losing focus on the task at hand. It rarely happened, especially nowadays since Vanity had fully given in to being fed, but she still appreciated Mull making sure no pixies tried to pop themselves while Vanity was busy nearly popping.

Switching from cold, random foods to hot and ready meals was always enough to refresh Vanity’s palette and keep her going. Sure, all the grease was keeping her indigestion alive and well, but all the food tasted good and she didn’t feel nearly as barfy, so who cares? Plus, with the pixies massaging her belly, she could truly enjoy just how full she was getting. Every bite she took filled her just a little more, made her skin get just a little tighter, made her gut just a little heavier. From how she was laying on the couch, she swore she could feel all that extra weight pushing down on her. At the very least, she could definitely feel it pushing into other things. Her packed belly was pushing against her ribs, shortening her breath, and pressing up into her already notable boobs, shoving them off to the sides to make room for that egregious upper shelf she was developing. It was also pressing into the hem of her jam bottoms, forcing them down the expanding slope of her gut. It was always a smart choice to wear loose clothing for this; if she’d been wearing her usual jeans or a skirt, she might’ve burst the button open by now.

Still, though, Vanity was not a pixie. She was starting to struggle, her skin feeling a mite too tight and her breath getting a mite too short. She was letting out as much gas as she could, burping between the various fast foods getting shoved into her mouth, but she could still feel huge pockets of rumbly gas  pushing the limits of her belly. She hiccupped and felt some of the food try and come back up with it. That was the tell-tale sign that she was done.

“O-Ok guys, that’s- HRMPH!” Vanity’s words were cut short by two slices of pizza getting shoehorned into her maw. She tensed up, her eye twitching and her stomach aching. As she chewed the pizza the best she could, a burger already at the ready to be shoved in next, she looked pleadingly at Mull. Mull met her eyes, and then… glanced away. Vanity let out a grunt of indignation. You little TRAITOR, Mull! How dare-

“MM-MMRGGG!” Vanity started to choke as the feeding pixies, having decided that Vanity was taking too long, started to cram the burger into her still-full mouth. The demoness had no choice but to start swallowing, despite how much of the food in her mouth was still intact. Large lumps of food started descending into her already packed belly, making it even more angry. She groaned, arms dangling by her sides while a torrent of little hands tried in vain to soothe the churning, spasming beast that her stomach had become. In her exhaustion, Vanity forgot for just a second to give the order to stop- leading to a burrito getting forced past her teeth next.

Vanity twitched, her entire body starting to heat up. Her belly was too tight! She could physically feel it stretching every time a bite of food was forced down her throat! It was a massive dome by now, easily the size of the watermelon that Mull had devoured yesterday- and at this rate, she was going to get even BIGGER! Except she couldn’t! She had no room left!

Just how much food was left!? It seemed like this was never going to end! Vanity gripped the couch with white knuckles, panting and groaning as her stomach kept inching outwards, swelling out with every unwilling swallow. Until it wasn’t. Food kept going in, but her belly wasn’t growing anymore. It was just getting tighter and tighter, the pressure inside building up more and more. She- She couldn’t fit anymore! Her belly was at its limit! It had no more give left! At this rate, she was going to- gonna- g-g- aaah- AAAH-!

One last bite of pizza got shoved down her throat by a tiny, overly eager arm. Vanity’s entire body arched, twitching and spasming, as that last lump of food slowly forced its way into her severely overfed gut. Her eyes squeezed shut and she could swear she heard her skin creaking. Then-

“G-GAAAAAH!” Vanity cried out, just as her belly button popped out. She froze for a few moments. She didn’t breathe. She didn’t blink. She didn’t move. She was stuck in a moment of pure pain, and of pure euphoria. Then… she collapsed. She lay there, limp, sweating, wet, and mortified. She let out a few soft burps, not able to push them out at all since her abs had long since stopped being able to contract at all. She glared at Mull, who was still looking away from her, except now she was whistling. “M-Mull… you- HRP... are so dead… once I.. c-can… m-move again…”

Mull glanced back at Vanity. She covered her mouth with a hand, but it didn’t hide her mischievous smile. She whistled aloud, getting all the other pixies’ attention. Then she chattered at them in Sylvan, the language of the faeries. The other pixies all giggled, casting looks at Vanity. Then they went back to work, all now tending to Vanity’s belly.

“A-Ah! D-Don’t press too hard! I-I’m gonna p-pop!” Vanity breathed, even as she fought against the primal pleasure she was getting from every soft touch against her sensitive belly. “P-Please, j-just stop! S-Seriously- nng- I’ll be f-fine on my- ooooh- S-stop already-!”

Vanity could do nothing but lay there, swarmed by her flock of pixies that were clearly determined to make Vanity get as much ‘fun’ out of this as possible. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and tried to resist as much as she could, but it was clearly a losing battle. She couldn’t take much- AH- m-much more of this-!

The demoness arched her back again. Just how long was this going to go on? Vanity was terrified to imagine it… and she was also terrified by how much she didn’t want it to end…