I leaned back in my office chair, the old springs groaning with my weight. Staring up at the ceiling, I flicked my ears and tapped a claw on the desk. 

“Hmm, what tonight?” I said aloud. “I can always do something fantasy related. That seems like a good go-to. Oh, but I always tend to go in that direction.”

I sat up and reached over the desk to scoop up my hardbound copy of the Monster Manual. Sucking my cheek, I thumbed through the glossy pages. Fanged maws and eldritch terrors leapt out at me with every turn.

“I don’t know,” I muttered. “Everything is always so dark and mean now.” I set the book down and placed a hand on the large hump that occupied my midsection. Smiling slightly, I pulled up my shirt to reveal a swollen, brown ball. “You think so too, don’t you?”

From within me came a little kick. 

“Thought so. Say, I know.” My ears pricked up. “What about something for the little ones? Like a nice fairytale? Oh yes, how about a young boy sent into the woods and he meets a witch or a troll. Or a troll-witch, a very evil troll-witch.” My hands flew to the keyboard. “And like any good fairytale, there needs to be a lesson learned.”

My fingers danced over the keys as the story slowly unfolded in my head. “Hoo hoo, yes. And it needs to be written like an old fairytale as well.”

[center]***[/center]

Once upon a time, there was a small village nestled in the mountains. Living in that village were the djinn. They were a curious sort of folk, having hooves and horns like a goat, but the faces of cats and the tails of dragons. Yes, a very strange sort of tribe indeed. Every djinn was happy and each lived in a small house made of stones with a nice straw roof to keep out the snow and rain. Among that peculiar clan was a young djinn, by the name of Ammah. A sweet one, he was. He would cavort about the village to the delight of all the elders. His long, dark hair was tied into two thick braids that hung over his slender chest, while his round tummy and wide hips were nestled into a green skirt and a simple white blouse that never could hide his belly. Ammah loved to explore the woods around the village and to spend his time at the nearby lake. However, there was one thing the young djinn absolutely did not enjoy.

“Ammah,” his mother called one day. “Ammah, please come here.”

The young djinn’s ears parted as he fell into a sulk. Dragging his hooves, the little djinn slowly trudged up to his mother and stood. 

“Ammah,” she said. “Have you finished your chores as I asked?”

“N-No, mother,” the little djinn grumbled. 

“And why not?” she would say.

Ammah would shuffle his hooves and look away. “Because I was down at the lake all day.”

His mother rolled her golden eyes. “Honestly, Ammah. You must learn to listen to your mother when she tells you to do something.” She reached inside their house and produced a basket. “I want you to go into the woods and pick a basketful of pookle fruit. Can you do that for me?”

Ammah fell into a pout, not offering a reply. 

“Ammah,” she snapped. “Listen to me. I want you to do this for me. Stay on the main path and do not talk to anyone, understand?”

Taking the basket, Ammah sighed. “Yes, mother.”

His mother nodded. “Now go on. The sun will not be up forever, you know.”

Poor Ammah, the little djinn wanted to play. But, his mother needed him and a good child should obey his mother. His tail dragging in the dirt, the little djinn stomped into the woods, basket in hand. Alone among the tall pines, Ammah’s spirits began to brighten. The young djinn skipped down the path, his eyes wide for the telltale grove of the pookle fruits. The sun filtered down through the branches, casting the forest into speckles of bright light that seemed to dance and sway so that he just had to dance along with them. 

“This is fun,” he cried and leapt through the air to land in a patch of warm sunlight. 

Suddenly, he caught sight of a beautiful flashing of reds and yellows. 

“Oh, a butterfly,” Ammah cried and dashed after the fluttering insect, forgetting of course, that he must not leave the path. 

The little djinn crashed through the bushes and stumbled over a loose stone, tumbling head over heels into a prickly thorn bush. Immediately, the little djinn jumped up, howling and crying as he hurried to pull the sharp thorns from the thick fur on his arms and legs. 

“Oh, oh,” he moaned. “That hurt.” 

Removing the nasty thorns, the young djinn stumbled from the bush and soon found himself in a deep, dark patch of the forest he had never known before. Gone was the warm sun and the friendly pines. Now, there was but dark shadows and the gnarled limbs of old, grey oaks that seemed to scowl down at him. The young djinn clutched his basket tight to his chest and carefully trudged on. 

“Oh, it is awfully dark,” he whimpered. “And I don’t know where I am.”

Having not listened to his mother, the young djinn had stepped from the familiar forest path and was now lost in the deep, dark woods. 

“It’s getting dark,” Ammah muttered. A shrill noise rose from the bushes and the young djinn’s chin sunk to his shoulders. “Oh, what was that? I don’t like it here one bit.”

As he slowly made his way through the dark forest, there came a soft, sweet lilting song. Ammah’s ears pricked up as he followed the musical sound deeper into the forest. It was like a fair, elven voice raised in a wordless melody. 

“Hello,” he called. “Is anyone out there?”

From behind a grey tree there came a slender arm. Tawny fur bristled from that mysterious appendage and dangling by thumb and forefinger was a round, pear-shaped fruit. The skin was striped in purple, orange and pink. 

“A pookle fruit?” Ammah whispered. “But why?”

From the tree came the arm, and attached to that arm was a lithe, tan body. She stepped closer, her fuschia eyes dancing with a mischievous light as she grinned with white fangs. The creature wore a wide brimmed purple hat with a long point like a wizard’s cap. About her slender shoulders was draped a purple shawl, leaving her midsection bare. A purple skirt was wrapped about her round hips and a long, skinny tail slithered about behind her. As she stepped forward, a golden ring glinted softly in her black, button nose. 

“A little lost djinn has wandered into my woods,” the creature said. “Looking for this?” She held up the fruit. 

“Oh, yes,” Ammah replied. “I need to gather pookle fruits for mother. She must be worried by now.”

The little djinn had forgotten another of his mother’s warnings, not to speak to strangers. The strange creature giggled, her voice like a silver bell. 

“Oh my, you are simply adorable. Say, how about you forget about all that and come back to my hut with me?” She smiled and cocked her head.

“I-I don’t know,” Ammah stammered. “My mother said not to.”

The creature’s mouth turned to a grimace. “Do you always do as your mother says?”

Ammah scuffed the dirt with a hoof. “I, um…”

“Didn’t your mother tell you to not stray from the forest path?” the creature said. She placed her hands on her knees and leaned down to Ammah’s face. “And I’ll bet she told you not to talk to strangers. But, see how it all turned out?”

“I-I guess so,” Ammah replied, but the little djinn still felt uneasy. 

The creature stood and chuckled. “Well, are you a baby that can only do as his mother says?”

“Hey, I’m no baby,” Ammah cried and stamped his hoof. “Fine, I’ll come to your hut with you.”

Taking the djinn by the hand, the creature led him through the shadowy woods to come to a small, wooden hut that squat below a slanted willow tree. The boards were moldy with age, covered with lichen and fungi, while the sagging roof was heavy with green moss. 

“Here is my home,” said the creature.

“What kind of home is that?” Ammah stammered as he gazed at the rotting structure. 

“A troll’s home, of course,” chuckled the creature. “I am a troll. My name is Fereya.” She tapped a finger to her cheek. “I suppose that makes us not strangers anymore.”

Ammah’s ears pricked up. “Hey, you’re right. Mother said not to talk to strangers, but you’re not a stranger, Fereya.”

“So then, won’t you follow me inside?” Fereya cooed. 

The little djinn followed the troll into the hut. The inside was dank and dark. A small table and two chairs sat forlorn in the center of the room, while a fireplace smoldered to the far end. A large, thick mat of woven grass was nestled to one side, the troll’s bed. Fereya placed the pookle fruit on the table and removed her hat. A cascade of tawny hair tumbled down her shoulders as she hung the hat on a wooden peg. Ammah’s eyes fell on the fruit. His fingers played on the handle of his basket. 

Remembering his mother’s words, he asked, “Um, could I have that fruit? I really need to gather some.”

Fereya turned, her fuschia eyes swirling in the dim light. “Why do you want that old, nasty pookle fruit?” Her voice was strangely deep and husky, setting the hairs on Ammah’s tail to prickle. “Wouldn’t a brave boy like you prefer cake instead?”

“Cake?” Ammah’s ears twitched and his long tail waggled behind him. “What kind of cake?”

“Mmm, a very special kind of cake, just for you,” purred the troll. “Why not have a seat at the table, dear.”

As Ammah sat upon the rough, wooden chair, the little djinn could not help but smile. His old mother had been wrong. This troll was so nice and she was going to give him cake. He could find those pookle fruits later, he thought. Fereya sidled up to the table and placed a large, pewter platter down. Perched atop the dish was a golden, honey colored mountain crowned with a rich, snowy layer of cream frosting. Ammah’s mouth watered at the sight of the towering pastry. 

“Please, enjoy,” Fereya said. She ran her finger through the frosting and stuck it in her mouth. Her slender tail wagged as she licked the creamy whiteness clean. “Just take a big handful and stuff it in your mouth.”

The little djinn thrust his fingers deep into Fereya’s warm, soft goodness, wrenching a great handful and shovelling into his mouth. His eyes snapped wide as his tongue exploded in a riot of  flavors. It was like nothing he had ever tasted before. The little djinn quickly swallowed the spongy mouthful and went for another. Using both hands, Ammah began stuffing himself with Fereya’s cake. 

“That’s a good boy,” Fereya said as she plopped another piece into her mouth. “Eat every bite.”

Ammah grinned, his lips covered in crumbs. Strange, he thought, did Fereya always have a double-chin? The troll’s belly now sagged on the table as she licked frosting from her fingers. For that matter, Ammah had noticed something about himself as well. Namely, that his shirt was more than a bit snug. The buttons were straining as he continued to indulge on the rich cake, stretching until at last they burst. His white blouse popped open to allow two pendulous breasts to flop freely upon a wobbling ball of brown flesh. 

“Oh my,” Fereya chuckled. “This will never do.” The plump troll wiggled her fingers and reached for Ammah’s skirt. Grasping the waistband, she said, “It’s not proper to wear clothes that don’t fit.”

Fereya tore the green skirt down and flung across the room.

“Isn’t that better?” she asked. 

“Uh, but you’re still wearing clothes,” Ammah replied, his fat cheeks jiggling like a chipmunk’s. 

Fereya’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my, you’re right. How silly of me.” With a deft motion, she slid her purple skirt down to her ankles. Ammah’s eyes widened as he gazed at her wide, soft thighs and bulging hips. Fereya then undid the clasp of her shawl and let the garment fall from her shoulders. Two wobbling breasts swung above her round belly, their nipples a shining violet. “Is this more to your liking?”

Ammah swallowed a lump in his throat as the troll pressed her soft, warm body against his fat belly. 

“I just love big, soft tits,” the troll said, her hands gently cupping the djinn’s bloated mammaries. “Do you like big tits?” She found the firm, dark nipples and pinched, eliciting a sharp cry from Ammah. “Should I stop?”

When the little djinn shook his head, the troll grinned and leaned closer. “Do you want to touch my breasts?”

Ammah was taken aback by the troll’s words. His mother had told him it was very impolite to touch someone, but Fereya was so pretty, he thought. Soon, the little djinn’s hands were grasping Fereya’s sagging, pendulous breasts. They were so warm and soft, seeming to be filled with a sloshing liquid. Ammah found himself drawn to a purple nipple, his throat suddenly parched. The naughty little djinn wrapped his lips around that hard nub, his tongue flicking the erect nipple like a baby.

“Oho,” Fereya giggled. “I’m afraid there’s no milk there, just yet.”

“Do you like the way I look?” she asked and turned to reveal her fat ass. The dimples in her soft flesh could have held a bowl of cereal. “I like the way you look.”

Ammah then realized how fat he had gotten. His belly was like a mountain of soft, rippling fat, topped by two heaving breasts. His hips had grown massive, not to mention how plump and round his ass had become. The troll gathered up another handful of the strange cake and laid herself on Ammah. Her breasts touched, the hard nipples grazing his brown skin as the little djinn gleefully accepted another mouthful. 

“That’s a good boy, eat it all,” purred Fereya. She then pressed another handful to his lips. 

Ammah swallowed, feeling her fingers inside his mouth. As Fereya pulled back, he kissed her fingers and giggled. 

“I love big bellies,” she said, her fingers tickling his quivering stomach. “Do you like big bellies?”

“U-Uh,” he stammered, his gaze falling on Fereya’s sweetly round belly. “Yes.” His clawed hand fell to her stomach. His tail wagged slightly as he felt the way the muscles danced beneath the folds of fat. 

“Do you like big, round, tight bellies?” Fereya’s voice became a syrupy purr that tingled pleasantly in his ear. “Do you want to kiss me?”

Ammah gave a sudden start. “Oh, I don’t know. Mother says it’s not a good idea.”

Fereya’s full lips glistened wetly. “Does your mother know everything? Besides, you can’t get pregnant from just kissing. I would know.”

[center]***[/center]

I leaned back from the desk and chuckled. “You can’t get pregnant from just kissing, it is true.” I wrapped my long tail over my swollen belly. “I guess I didn’t learn my lesson. Then again, this story version of me didn't learn his lesson either it seems.” 

I pushed my fat butt from the chair and made my way down the hall. “I just need a drink and then back to it.”

Returning to my seat, I giggled as I scanned the pages. “Oh I am bad.” I tugged both my ears and grinned. “Oh, I know.” I picked up my phone and thumbed the keys. “There, I hope she gets my text. She’s normally off work by now. Now, where was I?”