The Blue Beauty of AVALANCHE (Patreon)

Tifa Lockhart was beginning to feel she had bitten off more than she could chew. Don Corneo’s men hadn’t underestimated the pretty woman in her glimmering blue dress, having lead her into a room before pumping it full of sedation gas.

The purple musk still hung in the air, seeming to cling to Tifa even though they’d transferred her to the Don’s weirdo bondage basement.

She circled the room, taking in the shady stone, and all of the... apparatuses, on top. There wasn’t much light in here, likely keeping it dark to be disorienting for the stunning hen that walked into the fox’s den.

To say that Tifa was attractive would be marginally underselling her. She wore a 1,000,000 Gil dress over a 10,000,000 Gil body. Pale white skin, long black hair, and sparkling crescent moon earrings.

Her blue and black dress showed as much skin as it covered, and Tifa had a lot of skin to show. With a pair of lovely long legs and juicy white thighs, her curves then exploded out when they came to her chest. She was shaped like an hourglass that carried a day’s worth of sand, tucking into her tiny, toned waist.

But the thing about Tifa was that she still maintained an air of light innocence. Whether it was her large brown eyes, her soft pink lips, or just that country girl softness. She had even gone so far as tying a ribbon around her neck in a lacy black bow, letting it hang between the blue straps so she could cover her sternum.

Tifa didn’t give a single damn about beauty. To her, looks just didn’t matter. She owned a bar in the slums. The furthest that looks had gotten her was a loan from the bank, and a few extra tips when tending the drink. She wasn’t interested in amorous whispers and cracked her knuckles at peeving eyes.

What most didn’t know was the girl could break your neck faster than you could glance back at her bottom. She was stronger than most men, stronger than some SOLDIERs, and had dedicated much of her life to becoming an ultimate martial champion. Curvy softness contained lethal strength.

Which was why she was so infuriated with this heavy purple smog still clinging to her shoulders.

Was the Don onto her, or not? Smoke didn’t tell her anything. Give her 5 of his goons to kick the crap out of, instead of being a cheater and using unseen tactics.

The dark room... she groaned, knowing that she’d already relabeled it in her head. Corneo’s sex dungeon was intensely disturbing... but, with some quick thinking, could perhaps become useful.

After all, wasn’t that why Tifa was here? The entirety of her mission relied on getting close to Corneo. If she could get him in here, tie him down to one of these machines, she could question him freely about... about...

“What the hell is that...?” Tifa breathed. Away from the small cuffs and tight cages was set an immense machine that looked like something straight out of a laboratory.

An ivory control panel was connected through wires to a combination of giant metal plates. It looked like a loading dock, with a small ramp leading up to a platform. A single plate was set against the wall and two on either side. Near the ceiling hung a double plate of chrome metal, which Tifa guessed by the seam, folded down to cover every exit.

It looked almost lethal... like something from a construction zone. Used to make something more compact. But then why was it down here?

It was too big to be used on people, right? The platform itself was, perhaps, 7x7 feet. What kind of... Tifa tried to imagine a girl that was big enough to fill that squeezing square.

She decided that a girl like that probably had much fatter things to worry about than Tifa ever would.

If she did lock Corneo up down here, she could always threaten him with that press. But even that was making her uncomfortable.

She turned away, then spotting what looked like a standing sarcophagus that was filled to the brim with silver shining spikes, and decided that maybe the press wasn’t so bad.

Time continued to dredge on, with the only other notable feature in the basement being an extremely weird vending machine, shaped in the likeness of the Don himself. It kept playing the same song on a loop.

“Ugh, what is taking so long?!” Tifa groaned, cracking her knuckles. She was getting tight, the anticipation of not knowing putting her on edge.

She wasn’t sure of how long had passed until she finally sat her perky bottom onto a cross-shaped altar, but she began to think about Cloud again.

Hopefully, he made it back safe. Corneo’s men had been asking after ‘the man with the sword,’ almost as much as they seemed desperate to find ‘the man with the gun arm.’ If they kept their heads down, Avalanche might be able to get along with their lives.

Something else was bothering Tifa, a growing sense of discomfort. She had been too busy worrying to think about it much, but the emptiness only made the sensation grow, until she was finally forced to acknowledge the empty growls of her tummy.

Hungry. Angry.

Tifa went to the Vending Machine, the tiny Corneo troll doll that smiled while chewing on his fat cigar and bopped the darned thing on its nose.

“What kind of jerk doesn’t even feed his bridal candidates?” she asked the machine before sighing and reaching for her pocket.

Her hand skated over her soft hip, the smooth fabric of her dress reminding her she wasn’t wearing her shorts. Meaning she’d left her wallet back at the bar.

“Ah… great,” she crossed her arms beneath her chest, puffing in frustration like a tiny bluebird. She went to the double door and tapped against it. “Hello?” she asked nobody. “Can I get some food, or something?”

Surprisingly, nobody responded. “W-wha,” came a muted voice. “Oh! Shit!”

Both doors smacked open quick enough that they nearly sent Tifa sprawling. A man with a spray tan that was as bad as Tifa’s hunger stumbled through, catching himself with a huge, yellow grin. In his arms he held a large silver tray that made Tifa’s eyes double in size, covered with over a dozen blueberry muffins.

“Sorry lady,” he spoke with a harsh Wall Market accent. “I got caught watchin’ the fight. We finally got a TV in- you know you probably don’t give a shit,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his deep red hair. “I was ‘sposed to give these to ya an hour ago when ya got hungry.”

Tifa tried not to frown, to keep up that cheery demeanor. She mostly succeeded because her hungry gaze could hardly able to pull away from the muffins. Her stomach was audibly grumbling, almost painfully, but she ignored that too.

The muffins looked so soft and juicy, with blueberries dribbling with fresh baked goodness down their fat tops. Each of them was the size of Tifa’s fist, and perhaps it was the strange strength of her hunger speaking, but Tifa felt as if she could eat them all.

She didn’t have the focus to be worried about that. Hardly even noticed the man passing her the platter, just they were suddenly in her hands.

The goon said something about the colosseum, but Tifa didn’t hear until her groaning stomach caused him to laugh. “Wow they wasn’t kiddin’. You look like you’re ‘bout to start drooling.”

Tifa looked up, her brown eyes still filled with soft baked goodness and blueberry dressing. “W-wha?” she asked, shaking her head. She ran her free hand across the back of her lips.

“‘s nothin!” the guard placed his hand on his hips. “Now I’m gonna get goin. Those two nearly knocked out the Hell House!” he barked a laugh. “I got a whole lot riding on that little red, so today must be my lucky day! Just like yours.” Tifa missed him winking, her fixation pulled back to the muffins like a black hole.

The purple smog that clung to Tifa’s shoulders grew stronger, flooding her senses with the need for food.

The guard vanished and Tifa fell onto the altar with an audible plop. The tray filled out all of her lap and then some, quivering lightly as her whole body vibrated.

She lifted the first of the muffins to her mouth, a fat drip of saliva falling unheeded down onto the lace that covered her chest. A part of her was aware of it, but it was dwarfed by the intense need to fill her belly.

Her teeth sliced through the breading, bursting several baked blueberries over her tongue and eliciting a moan of soft pleasure. They were better than good, striking Tifa’s taste buds in all the right ways.

Normally a slow eater, Tifa was partially shocked at how quickly she swallowed. The large chunk of refined dough nearly lodged in her throat, striking into her empty belly with an almost audible slop. She grunted, blinking heavily and placing a hand over her center.

Something was wrong. She was- she was eating another bite, returned to the heavenly pleasure of blueberry goodness. Four heavy chews and the mouthful fought it’s way down to her center, desperation filling her sense.

She wanted more. Like a drunk blacking out, Tifa’s senses took in everything around her, but could only focused on the indulgence. In three bites, Tifa had completely vanished the first fist sized muffin, her hand unthinkingly grabbing the next so tightly that it was smothered inside of her grip.

Dough filled each of her senses, with blueberry juice flowing over their top like an overburdened dam. Another muffin, then another, Tifa was stuffing herself beyond the scope of her appetite, and still wanted for more.

The purple mist was intensifying, pulling into Tifa’s nostrils as she began to gasp between bites. Her hunger was far larger than her stomach, until it began to make room.

She attacked the platter like a fiend, plucking muffin after muffin and shoving them in. And slowly, with the haunting grace, her belly was pushing outwards with each new bite.

Tifa’s toned waist disappeared, vanished underneath the first layer of fat. The sugary dough clung to her sides, rounding her out. Five muffins in brought ten pounds out, the heightened sense of taste and lust to be filled driving the pinching sensation on her dress crawling up on her hips away from her mind.

Another chomp, another slosh, Tifa’s tummy was winging like mad. Helpless in her hunger, her eating became even sloppier and fast. Her lips became stained with blueberry flecks, juice dribbling over her gnashing jaw and down onto her dress.

Each muffin skated her along this peak of desire, until the platter began being overflowed in her lap by her own swelling belly in the desperately clinging blue dress.

Ten muffins in, and the dress was ripping at the seams, exposing Tifa’s pale white skin beneath. Her belly looked harsh, packed so heavily and stuffed so sweet while the girl knocked her mouth back and made another gasp of delight when another muffin fell onto the ever swelling pile.

Her tummy waggled over the platter, fighting the remnants for room, and still Tifa didn’t notice, couldn’t see. All that filled her was the need for more, the acute desire to feast until she couldn’t even-

She couldn’t move.

Tifa was gasping for breath, her thighs rolling over each other as pain ebbed through her body. She twisted, staring up into the dark stone of the ceiling but without seeing anything other than the remaining flecks of the purple fog that she was sucking down to her belly.

Her hands were trying to massage her middle, but there was absolutely no give. Whines of hunger became grumbles of digestion, barks of discomfort while she groaned through her mouth. Her belly had swollen out past her breasts, giving the hourglass a fat test-tube appearance. 

She tried to sit up, but could only manage to lean back on her elbows, one eye shut against the pain while she looked at her body. “W-what the… the hell, uuoooogh…” she groaned, lifting a hand and covering her stomach. Her dress had been shredding at the waist, caught between her pooching belly and her rounding hips.

The creeping sensation that the muffins weren’t done with her redoubled on Tifa, and with each gasping breath she could feel her stomach growing fatter. She tried to call out, but there didn’t seem to be room for air in her chest. Her belly rumbled far louder than she could gasp, so Tifa lay there, feeling swollen and stuffed beyond understanding as her senses slowly came back.

Her brown eyes rolled in their sockets as a light flicked on over her head. She tried again to sit up, but her unfolding waist brought her back so quickly that she smacked her head on the stone and could only moan.

“Heeey, little lady. You finish eating your dinner?”

The goon walked over, but Tifa could hardly see him over her fat boobs and fatter stomach. Just his stupid red hair. She tried again to breath, to say something louder than her belly gurgled and popped. “W-what did…” she gasped, fighting back a moan. Her strong arms fought to lift her up, pushing the pain away while her tummy fought to spill over her waist. “What did you do?”

“Me?” the guy raised a cheerful eyebrow. He lifted himself on his tiptoes, obviously holding something behind his back like a child hiding dessert. “I won 40,000 Gil, that’s what I done. You seem to have lost your bet, though.”

“You did…” Tifa swallowed, looking down at her belly as a much more intense growl whined from her middle. The returned hunger slammed into her a moment later, as the smell of fresh muffins registered to her brain.

“I ain’t done nothin,” the goon grinned, his arms coming around to reveal a thick blue potion in a bottle that curved at the bottom like an immense blue Materia. He came forward and the scent of blueberries nearly overwhelmed Tifa, causing her to pull back while also fighting to reach forward. “Just following orders.”

His fingers were tight over the lip of the bottle, setting the glass against Tifa’s equally round stomach. He circled her deep navel twice before she snatched it from him, laughing as she upended the bottle and guzzled the contents like a starved alcoholic.

With each swallow, the tension in Tifa’s body rolled away, replaced instead with the heady wash of heavy flavors. Her tongue was soaked in the blueberry elixir, washing over each taste bud and changing them entirely. The reaction in her center was almost immediate, with the bubbling pop diffusing pent up tension and sending Tifa into a heady roll of pleasure.

“Ohhh,” she moaned, sitting up fully. Her stomach rolled almost halfway to her knees, her unhindered breasts spilling out the sides of her dress. The guard was chuckling like a smug baboon. 

Anger rushed into her quicker than the tonic, and Tifa found her feet.

“What the hell is the matter with you people?!” Tifa stamped. “This is…” she looked down at her wobbling stomach as it released an awkward gurgle that raised the hair on her neck. “This is no way to treat a potential bride!”

“Are you not happy with the Don’s accommodations?” he asked, removing a pair of sunglasses from a pocket on his vest. He placed them over his eyes, grinning a yellow toothed grin that nearly sent Tifa into a fury.

“Absolutely not!!” she let herself loose, her stomach sloshing and slapping against her exposed thighs. Her dress was ripping as she stomped forwards, cheeks burning red until a chilling touch spread out from her lips. “You’ve… you knocked me out!” Tifa mashed her foot against the ground. “You kept me sitting here! And then you drugged me with this!”

“You’re right,” he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “This ain’t no way to treat a lady. But a terrorist…”

Tifa swallowed. It was that sensation that turned her on to the bubbling in her belly, not pangs of hunger but of something else. A building pressure was blowing up inside of her stomach, and when she looked down with wide eyes, her mouth fell open in shock.

A crawl of blue flowed like juice over Tifa’s snowy white skin, staining her until she was as dark as her dress. Her skin fluffed out of each gap until with a loud yelp, her dress tore into two. A horizontal rip separated the fabric around her bubbling blue belly.

“What did you do to me?!” she screamed, anger and worry supplanted by fear. She tried to hold herself in but stumbled as her swelling weight snapped the high heels of her gorgeous blue shoes. She knocked into the altar, nearly falling over but catching herself by her fat blue ass.

Her panties stretched desperately, trying to cover her filling out cheeks while the guard chuckled evilly. “Well, you know what they says. You are what you eat.”

Tifa gapped at her filling blueberry muffintop, feeling the dough and the elixir expanding inside. Her breathing came in hurried gasps as she felt the swelling shifting further, watched her belly rolling over fat juicy thighs. She was filling out quickly, too quickly to stop it, but something tore through Tifa. Anger flushed her bright, violet cheeks, and she narrowed her eyes at the chuckling guard. 

“What?” he asked smugly as she kicked off her ruined shoes. “You got something to say?” Her fat piggy toes flexed as they hit the ground, weight making balancing awkward, but an inward focus and she felt her Chakra stabilizing. Her worries melted and she focused entirely on her body.

She could feel all of her body as it changed, shifting into a deeper, fatter state. The ribbon around her neck was tight, with blue fat bubbling over to remove her round neck. Her arms hung with heavy fat, her thighs smushed together like thick flourbags. 

It would be harder to move, but she was a martial arts champion.

Hidden power beneath swelling fat, Tifa hopped from foot to foot before springing forward like a blue bowling ball. She cried out loud, seeing the man’s melting pride turning into panic before her fatty blue foot caught him in the center of his chest.

With a sickening crack, the man was catapulted through the double doors, cracking them so harshly that they became lodged open, and revealing three other people descending a stairwell from the other side.

Another goon, this one with a mohawk, was in the process of escorting two other women. A blonde girl with pigtails and a deep purple dress, and a brunette girl wearing an embellished red one. In his hands, the goon had been holding a plate with a tea pot, and each girl had their own small plate of tea.

“W-what the hell?!” the goon dropped the plate, sending the platter tinkering to the ground. He ran to his buddy, who didn’t move, while the two girls gapped at Tifa’s growing body. Her fighter’s stance was falling apart as she passed from obese into super-sized, belly pulling her back into a short wobbling stumble.

“Don’t drink the tea!!” Tifa tried to warn them.

The brunette raised a hand to her mouth with a very loud gulp, but the blonde was moving. She lifted her plate and smashed it against the other goon’s head, sending him sprawling over his unconscious companion.

“Tifa!” a familiar voice called, and Tifa felt her shocked senses overflow as Cloud raced to her side, placing hands upon her swelling stomach. Her boobs were swelling now, filling with juice, pushing further and further away from her fattening cheeks. She couldn’t reach her belly anymore, her arms being pulled towards the side, with shoulders so fat that they’d hardly bend.

“I’m dreaming,” she said, trying to relax herself. “That’s it. The gas knocked me out. There’s no way that you’re.”

Cloud tore the girly blonde wig off his head. “What the hell is going on? What did they do to you?”

“HOW THE HELL SHOULD I KNOW?!” she snapped, waggling her hands. She couldn’t see over the swell of her belly, could barely turn. When she tried to step forward it came as an awkward waddle, with hundreds of gallons of juice tumbling warmly inside of her. 

She felt like she’d eaten enough for a lifetime, but was still being forced to make room for more.

“We’ve got to do something,” the brunette said. “T-they must have poisoned her!”

A bite of cold marked her warm stomach, and she knew she’d just touched the cold stone of the floor. She could feel her weight swelling around her feet, her ankles disappearing into swollen calves, growing wider even now. “Make it stop!” Tifa whined, trying to move her arms but finding her wrists now shifted into curvy fat bulbs.

“What did they do? Did you eat something? Drink?” Cloud asked.

“I-I ate a bunch of blueberry muffins,” Tifa winced, feeling her gurgling weight pushing up into her chin. She was still so short, but so densely packed with heavy juice. “He gave me this drink and it must have reacted with…”

The brunette gulped as a whiny gurgle came from her own stomach. “Erm… Cloud?” she asked, and Tifa watched as a flow of red began to color her lips, moving out to her cheeks. “I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t take them up on the muffin…”

Tifa bounced, her breasts so heavy that they could only slide over her stomach. He was standing directly in front of her, but he was so far away. “You’ve gotta do something!” she pleaded. “I can’t be a blueberry!”

“I’ve always liked cherries…” the girl sighed, watching her skin color before standing up straight. “Cloud? You don’t think…?”

“I have no idea what this is,” he turned from girl to girl, putting a hand to his lips. His green-blue eyes narrowed to the floor. “I’ve never seen anything like-”

The girl twirled, a small staff shooting out from seeming nowhere. It clicked open and she crossed herself before muttering “Esuna,” in a soft voice.

A trickle of green sparkles erupted from her staff. Instantly, the gurgling inside of her ceased, leaving her only with reddened skin and a soft potbelly. Tifa felt the sparkles gracing her too, but only felt the sudden need to sneeze.

The motion caught her awkwardly as her feet were lifted up from the ground, sending her with a scream tilting backwards until Cloud caught her tummy. He rolled her forward on her jiggling bottom, her hands and feet waggling freely.

“D-did it work?” she asked, trying not to notice his gaze on her massive breasts and fatter stomach.

“I… think so,” the girl replied. She reached down and poked herself before looking back up to Tifa. “I’m not feeling funny anymore. How do you feel?”

“Pretty frikin funny…” Tifa grumbled. She tried to reach the floor with her feet but couldn’t, and the cold from the ground was making her groin feel awkward.

One of the guards began to stir, instantly silenced as the cherry red brunette brought her staff down onto his scalp. 

“I must be dreaming…” Tifa muttered again, unable to believe her boobs were the size of the brunette’s whole body. She couldn’t even see around her front, and a much higher worry realized she couldn’t see her dress anymore. 

She turned, trying to see if there were any signs of the fabric, but she could only feel a faint sense of clinging fabric to her lower tummy and around her fat chest.

She pouted, fat blue lips set into chubby sapphire cheeks. “They knew I was Avalanche… They’d planned this.”

Cloud nodded. “Which means Corneo knows what’s happened.” He looked over her body and Tifa felt each inch of her prickle with blueberry goosebumps. “Which means he might have a way to fix it.”

“I’m coming with you,” the brunette said.

“No chance,” Cloud denied, going back to his wig. “If the Don knows who she is, he might know who we are. His lackies could have told him at any time. You stay here and take care of Tifa. She probably…” he glanced and Tifa felt her belly rumble. “Definitely can’t take care of herself. Maybe there’s another way out of it.”

“He can’t have really tried turning us into fruits, can he?” the girl asked. “What kind of bride would an immobile wife be?”

“You’re red…” Tifa reminded her.

“Oh…” she giggled far too brightly for someone that was the wrong color. “I guess so, yeah.”

Cloud sighed. “You know, they teach you not to take stuff from your enemies in the military.”

The girl shook on juicy hips, her tight dress waggling pleasantly. “I sell flowers! We’re not all big tough SOLDIERs, Mister!”

He shrugged. “I’m going to head up the stairs. Tifa…” he glanced before looking away. “Wait here.”

“Oh yeah,” she waggled hotly. “I was gonna waddle all the way up the stairs. Right behind ya!”

“You wouldn’t fit out the doors,” the other girl said cheerfully. 

Tifa’s blueberry blush intensified.

Cloud looked like he was trying not to cringe before awkwardly opening his mouth, closing it, and then patting her stomach and leaving. It was intensely weird to be seven times the size of someone taller than her.

The girl held up a hand near the door. He walked past it, and she pouted after him before turning back to Tifa.

“Anyways! Hi, I’m Aerith. I sell flowers!” she smiled.

Tifa blinked at the strange girl. She tried to sigh and lean back, but her huge body merely rocked an inch or two. Her long black hair graced her skin, almost tickling her fat round back. “This better be a dream Cloud, I swear to God…”