[$20] LoZ: The Reflection Behind the Door Chapter 5 (Beta Copy) (Patreon)

Author's Note: Evening all! This beta read will be exclusive for the beta-read tier while Salty and I work through the image creation process! :D We've given the chapter our stamps of approval, and are excited to share it early with you while everything's all put together!

Please, enjoy!

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Too slow.

*BANG*

“YAGH!” Zelda shouted, bouncing off of the door that slammed shut behind her. She’d tried to fling herself back, to return to her bedroom before whatever magic had closed off behind her.

Instead, the Princess toppled to her side, purple dress catching beneath her stumbling heels, and ended up on her plump posterior with a soft *boof!*

“Hnnnnngh,” the Princess grumbled, trying and failing to tuck up her knees while holding the back of her now-aching head.

She’d clapped her skull directly against the window, and was now in an exceptionally compromising position which showed the slight strain of her compiled outfit.

“Goddess’ Wrath!” she cursed, waggling her thick legs to rapidly strike the hardwood floor. Her pale cheeks bright with a porky pink pout, she rapidly blinked pain-formed tears from her eyes before dropping her hands and giving the shop an open glower. “This isn’t funny!!” she shouted.

Something shifted deep inside of Zelda. Beneath the marshmallow and frosting which still ghosted her tongue, below the pile of fat which now filled out her waist. In a half-waking dream, she felt something laugh.

It made her much, much angrier.

She sat for a moment, belly flexing against her purple waistbelt, but found herself slightly relieved that nothing had torn. She’d just put the darn outfit together. She’d probably cook someone alive if she tore it so quickly.

Despite that apparently being her own damned desire!

Zelda grunted, trying to sit up and surrendering the moment she felt her belt strain. She was forced to awkwardly turn over, rolling like some pale, fat, farm animal onto her knees, then used the door itself to help her up fully.

The purple belt held, though her dress showed the marks of dust. It was markedly obvious that Ianua didn’t sweep her floor each night…

Even the simple act of standing up required forethought and effort. Effort that weighed on Zelda like the pudge in her paunch as she adjusted her dress, admonishing herself for the sluggish reactions. “What kind of a Princess fall on her… her posterior?!” she hissed through a heavy breath. “What kind of a mage is so often off-guard?!”

But how does one guard against herself?

Zelda could feel it all over her. The rippling power, the bubbling sensation. She reekedof magic, doubly so because of the way she’d gotten dressed. Most people wouldn’t see more than a shimmer, but Zelda could feel the increased temperature of her body, the heat on her skin baking her pale pudge.

Good Goddess, she was practically sweating! And who could she blame?! This power, this stench which now flitted over her shoulder and crested her arms, was her own.

She had teleported herself. Again.

Only in acknowledging this did Zelda allow herself to feel the other sense which was trying to force it’s way in. She had just enough time to scowl at her belly before it trembled, warbled, and let out a chocolate-craving, ‘Arroghough…’

“Shut up,” she fingered herself through the green tunic, more than aware how far the digit sunk in. Her stomach was soft, feeling practically empty, despite being packed with pound after pound of bloated indulgence.

How much chocolate had she eaten already? The chefs had said she’d empty the whole larder, which meant it had to be at least…

Zelda sighed, stamping a foot. “I don’t want to think about that!” she shook her blonde head, even as it calculated it’d been four or five pounds.

She tried to focus on the ill-wanted taste of the marshmallows, how they’d been fine in the moment, but completely unsatisfying. And now she was here. In this place filled with…

Zelda scrunched her eyes shut. “No, no no,” she said, shaking her head as her nose picked up the scent. “Absolutely not. No, thank you. You are fat enoughas it is, young lady! Now turn right around and-”

Her unseeing hand groped the glass jar.

She hadn’t been aware when she’d started walking, but she must have crossed the entryway with a thundering waddle judging by the slight burn in her legs and jiggle in her belly. Zelda’s blue eyes opened wide, first in surprise and then became sparkling sapphires as she saw all the treats she now held in her hands.

It was one of the same jars as before, which might explain how she so quickly found it. Chocolate covered strawberries. At least two to three pounds in this small, special jar.

The scent of the fruit was as if the glass top wasn’t there, but more than that, she could already taste the dark chocolate flavor.

“N-no,” she shuddered against her own wanting, her belly loosing a heightened purr. “I-I can’t.”

Zelda opened the jar.

“I-I need a bag first. I’m not going to…”

Spooning the first treat between two pudgy fingers, Zelda’s hand shook. The roar from her tummy quivered the fat in her arms, silencing her mind and making her mouth go completely dry.

The pudgy Princess beheld bright chocolate glimmers dancing around red and brown sweetness. “I shouldn’t…” she licked her lips, lifting it closer.

The scent alone could have made a skinny girl grumble, and Zelda was no longer a skinny girl.

Lifting the strawberry to her mouth, Zelda found that the dryness had suddenly ended beneath a mouthful of drool. She tried to hold herself back, to reign herself in. “Only… only a bite…” she panted.

Zelda took the bite, and the bite took her.

Chocolate impacted upon her tongue, and eliciting a shiver through the woman’s rigid spine. A long exhale trembled out from her gut, and Zelda let the sensations spill over her, beginning to chew.

The strawberry was just ripe, plump, perfectly juicy and sugary sweet. The red liquid joined the drool in her mouth in a wonderful mixture of flavors, which Zelda could not taste.

Because she finally had the chocolate she needed.

Zelda purred, swallowing the mashed strawberry but only aware of the chocolate exterior. Not the skin, not the seeds, only the dark rich chocolate, which made her big belly grumble in joy before eliciting a soft greedy plea for another.

The Princess was more than happy to oblige.

One bite became two, and two became three. She vanished the strawberry into her mouth, then reached for another. Then another, and another still. Her bites became bigger, snapping the strawberries into two, then mashing the entire fruit in all at once. Her eyesight drifted, fading away as the impulse controlled her mouth and her mind.

Zelda’s smooth chin bobbed, performing full, circular motions just to work over the mouthful. A warm pink plush beneath round cheeks and fat chin, Zelda’s porcine hunger was encompassing her body, and the girl could not care a chocolate drop less.

She ate directly from the jar while hardly seeing it, with gluttonous sighs and delectable licks picking the small droplets of melted chocolate off from her fingers.

As she ate, a dampness began to form near her temple, an exertion of effort aching from her thighs and her arms. There was so much of her now, so many more pounds than the girl was used to, and something inside of her was clearly quite wrong.

She was too warm, too hot, too hungry, but the more she ate, the less she thought. Everything else became background noise. Her eyes, her ears, the feeling of sweat forming on her hot skin, the feeling of her belly pressed up to her belt.

All were forgotten beneath Zelda’s hunger, her desire for sweets, until her hand came up empty.

Through a chocolate haze, the Princess blinked dumbly down at the jar. Then, like lightning, the impact washed over her.

“I… No, that doesn’t…” Zelda dropped the empty container back onto the counter, taking two steps back and feeling each bite of strawberry inside her fat tummy. “I didn’t mean to… O-only a bite…” she breathed heavily, slowly turning towards the next container.

More chocolate. Circular, small, they reminded her of cookies that she’d had as a girl.

“Only a bite.”

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An owl flew past the roof of Ianua’s Candy Shop.

On a direct route from Hyrule Castle to the central guardhouse, the avian had wisely diverted course when it spotted the trembling air that shimmered from the shingled rooftop, instinctually deciding that not getting struck by the tumultuous sparks of pink and violet Willpower might be worth the two-minute delay.

It glided east over the central fountain, feeling a golden wind lift its wings up and directed itself towards the small but tall tower of the watchful guard.

Twilight was here. The moment where the sun only just begun to creep over the world’s crest, filling the sky with the brightness upon darkness to create a deep gray. It was the time where worlds collided, where fiction met reality. The time of mystics, and a time for magic.

The owl could feel it, as it always did at this time. A presence, like eyes watching it from far up above, and much further beneath. It usually ignored it, as the sensation usually faded as quick as it came, but this time, the eyes remained.

As it approached the tower, the owl felt the eyes tighten. Whether by some connected sense, or by the same instinct that made it avoid the shop, the owl turned away from the tower. It flapped its wings, bringing it higher, and soared in a circle around the small tower with its head twisting round, looking for the eyes.

Something moved far, far, far below it, and the owl thought for a moment that it was its own shadow, before the presence suddenly vanished. Daylight had come.

The owl turned its wings inward, gliding to the top of the tower. It landed on an outstretched wooden beam before cautiously fluttering inside, and waking the sleeping watchman with a soft, ‘Hoo,’ before offering the note that was attached to its leg.

Five minutes later, Private Karloff Tartan jogged from the front door of the central guardhouse. “Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap!” the Private hissed, his booted feet smacking against the pavement. He made it all the way to the gate of the guardhouse before looking down, promptly shouted, “Shit!” and ran back inside.

There was a crash, a bang, and several much louder, much more strained curses, before the figure reappeared wearing armor over his bedclothes, his whistle around his neck, a belt to secure both his satchel and a sheathed short sword to his waist, and a spear in his hand.

“CRAPCRAPCRAPCRAP!” he shouted in a louder tone, feet thumping as he passed by the gate and smacked onto the cobbles. The gatehouse guard, who Tartan sprinted past far too quickly to recognize, shouted something after him, but he was already gone.

In his other hand, Tartan’s fingers squeezed tight over the note from Captain Vesmas. It had orders to begin a search throughout the city, describing in detail their quarry as dangerous, magical in nature, and using a mask to enthrall a figure of ‘exceptional importance to Princess Zelda.’

It also included a sketch of the mask, which was frankly very poorly drawn, but was close enough for Tartan to recognize that he’d seen it before.

The little fairy boy, who’d danced over Zelda during the pie feast at the fountain.

Tartan ran, rushing down the street to the circular town square. There was a touch of blue in the sky now, and he could hear the stirring of birds from the nearby trees rising to meet the sound of his steel boots.

The note also detailed that Princess Zelda had teleported, likely once more to the central Candy Shop where Tartan had found her before. The Private pictured the scene.

The sweet scent of pie, the cheers from the patrons, and a well-fed Zelda grinning with one hand on her belly as she waved to the crowd. Tartan saw Rufio as the Gamemaster deftly swiped a red rupee from the air, then launching it to the dancing child who caught it, dropped the rupee into their pile, and marked it on a board from his spot on the fountain. Next to the pie baker, and the old candy maker.

Tartan did not like sprinting with a spear. He did anyway.

His whistle thumped against his breastplate as he rapidly twisted, coming around the path of the circle. He saw a pair of shopkeepers trundling in for the morning open, and rather than bellow he twisted, spinning around the elderly Hylians and sprinting across the gushing fountain.

The friendly, welcoming text on the door of Ianua’s Candy Shop was like sugar sprinkled upon a deadly black ice, still cast in shadow of its much taller surroundings. The table and chairs were all outside, an unsettling reminder of the fun competition that now seemed to bite with a sinister taste.

Moving quickly, Tartan smacked a leather-gloved hand near the threshold, crumpling the paper but catching his momentum, before reaching for the handle to pull the door open.

It was locked.

Tartan cursed once more, twisting around to look back into the square. He didn’t know how to pick a lock! That was for criminals, or at least for guards who were much better paid!

Would Zelda know how?

If she did, surely she wouldn’t lock the shop up behind her. At the very least, she’d think to unlock the blasted door if she’d gotten inside!

If the door was locked, was it possible that she couldn’t get in? He didn’t understand magic.

There were more people now, the sun slowly rising over the top of the buildings. He tightened his eyes, scanning from person to person, looking either for Zelda or perhaps an early-bird thief, before realizing he was looking for the wrong body type. He’d been searching for the skinny Princess, not the girl who’d pushed herself through ten fatty pies.

He looked again, scanning for pink and a wobbling tummy, before placing a glove to his hand. “Princess Zelda!” he called out.

Behind him, Tartan felt the response.

He twisted so fast that he nearly tripped on his feet, catching only the end of the bright pink flash that blazed from the windows of the candy shop. He stared, for a moment disbelieving his own startled eyes, before another pink flash had him rush forward, slamming his booted foot against the door and smashing it open.

Another throb of pink light flashed out of the shop, glowing against a fog of purple smog that was unleashed on the ground. Tartan ducked his spear and passed over the threshold with a commanding shout. “In the name of the guard, I order you-!”

He was silenced by a sudden pink impact striking his breastplate, which would have carried him out of the shop had his spear not lodged sideways. A noise echoed out with the rush of thunderous air, an immense, labored, but somehow pleadingly soft, “*HIC!*”

Tartan pushed forward once more, feeling the smog spilling against his boots as he planted his spear against the wooden floorboards.

He pulled himself forward, bracing against another pink blast, another tumultuous “*HIC!!”

Then he saw her. A purple shade in the pink light, and a brilliant pink hue against the deep violet. She was on the floor, looked to be sitting, and Tartan barely had the forethought to move to the side as a gush of air ripped past his shoulder, pushing smoke and light out of the entrance, and finally exposing the small fat girl sitting against the counter, covered with chocolate.

“*Hic!*” Zelda’s big belly throbbed, and Tartan could hear the whine of the fabric from her tight purple belt. Her lips and her mouth were coated in chocolate, with numerous wet drips staining the green of her tunic, while her eyes stared at something a million miles away. Zelda sat with her arms upturned at her side, as if she couldn’t care to move them, while her much fatter belly and immensely plumped breasts billowed as the girl struggled to breathe.

“Princess!” Tartan rushed forward, dropping his spear.

“*Hic!* *Hic!*” Zelda’s big belly throbbed, and the girl’s arms finally moved. She looked as if she could hardly bring her arms around her stomach, with fat spilling over the top and the bottom of her golden clasp. Her face looked so much heavier than before, with the chocolate clinging to her chubby pale cheeks. No longer soft, but wobbly and stuffed, with plump lips opening to unleash another fat “*Hic!*”

All around her were the scraps of a chocolate genocide. There were shattered jars of glass upon the top of the counter, chocolate cherries and nuts scattered still dropping onto the floor. There was cream from one flattened treat, but it was clear that most of what she’d eaten had ended up in her belly.

Yet still so much remained. Half-filled jars still maintained cookies, toffees, and chewy caramels. As Tartan came to her side, seeing the fine layer of sweat which now tumbled from her tiara and covered with enough chocolate to look like a creamy bon-bon herself, he couldn’t help but wonder just how much she’d devoured.

Several pounds. Maybe more.

“Princess Zelda!” he dropped to one knee, noticing her eyes had yet to look back to him. “Are you alright?!”

Another hiccup, but this time, Zelda also loosened a trembling groan. Tartan then noticed just how much bigger these clothes were, how Zelda had seemed more than double the size he’d seen yesterday, with a belly so fat that her breasts rest atop of it. Messy, sweaty, Zelda’s blonde head leaned back to the counter. She blinked her blue eyes before mumbling, “Only… one bite…”

Tartan stared.

Then, the most unbelievable thing happened.

Zelda’s belly rumbled. It wasn’t a noise of digestion, despite so obviously being so packed that it made Zelda look like she was already a fat girl who was late-stages pregnant, but rather the familiar groan of hunger.

Her tongue slowly came out, skating over her lips while her dull aquamarine eyes blinked like some unthinking animal, matching the heavy pink blush on her sweat-covered skin.

Tartan lifted a hand, dropped it, lifted it once more, and then, not able to think of anything else, stood up quite suddenly and hammered thrice against his breastplate, holding his hand over his heart. “Private Tartan of the Town Guard, reporting for duty!!” he bellowed into the choco-stained space of the shop.

He squinched his eyes shut, not knowing what he’d expected or hoped for, but it was definitely not the sound he achieved.

“Hooogh… Hoohooo, ooooggghhh,” he heard Zelda gasp.

He turned down to see the Princess, just slightly, moving. Swaying back and forth as if in a drunken haze of deep royal chocolate. She blinked slowly, looking from the shop up towards Tartan, then even more slowly, down towards herself.

With a chest as large and as tight as her own, it was quite obvious when Zelda stopped breathing. Her chin had folded into the fat of her neck, and Tartan wondered if she could even see her belt before the girl’s right hand lifted into the air.

He felt something then. Like the pink impact of the light from before, but it didn’t strike him. Rather, it washed over his skin, sending tingles of chill around his face and his arms, and then Tartan shouted in alarm as Zelda brought her hand down to strike herself on the stomach with an enraged, “YOU MORON!”

The belt tore, and it did not tear kindly. The golden buckle released with a terrific *BANG!!!* and the unleashed gut bounced outward, flopping over Zelda’s plush thighs. Fabric from her tunic, pinched both in her love handles and beneath the belly roll, was stretched so much tighter, but everything held…

Until Zelda hissed in a pained breath between gritted teeth. The clasp of her cape released a much softer *Snap* as is released over her left shoulder, drooping forward and revealing several splits in the fabric beneath Zelda’s soft arm, as well as two breaks which tore the dress vertically and exposed the soft whiteness of Zelda’s pale cleavage.

“Owwwwggggghhhhhh,” Zelda folded, gripping her belly with both of her hands, before seeming to decide that was a bad idea and unfolding herself back against the countertop. Her left leg lifted, placed against the floor as if she meant to stand, before that too had failed, and she slopped to the side, hand on her gut, sweat on her chin, and just focused on breathing. “I-idiot. Stupid…”

“P-Princess-” Tartan swallowed, not knowing where he was allowed to look at such the girl in so compromised a position.

“Quiet… please,” Zelda huffed through her strained breathes. “Need… think. My Willpower is too…”

Tartan felt another break of something over himself, then he saw the spots on Zelda’s skin. The wet sheen of sweat seemed to be fading away, until Tartan realized that it wasn’t fading. It was steaming, rising off of Zelda in some disturbing wet haze, with her flushed exertion slowly spread until it looked almost like she had a pink sunburn.

The air around her was changed, becoming baking hot. Whatever she was doing was frying it away. Like an intentional fever, Zelda’s very body temperature crept higher and higher, turning the girl into a plump pink peach before it all suddenly faded, and she returned to an obese vanilla creampuff.

“Guardsman…” Zelda huffed. “Behind the counter. The back wall.”

Tartan looked. Shelf upon shelf of wrapped boxes, far more decorative than the hundreds of treats in the many jars on the counter.

“There’s… hoooogh,” Zelda closed her eyes as a long, immense grumble quivered all the fat on her body. “Chocolate. Assorted chocolates. Bring one to me.”

Tartan began to look between them much more rapidly. “I-I don’t think you need any more-”

“Now,guardsman,” the Princess ordered.

Tartan saw a similar heat to the steam ripple through the air over her body, but he didn’t need that to tell him to shut up and move. He hurried around the counter, coming to the wall and taking the first container.

“A small one!” she called. “Make sure it’s small!”

Tartan looked down, seeing the package he’d taken took up both of his hands, then hefted it back onto the shelf. He found a box on the third shelf that was much smaller in size, plucking it between two fingers.

He brought it to her, dropping down to one knee. With short, plump fingers, Zelda haphazardly tore through the packaging, exposing what might have been the oddest thing he’d seen all morning.

Zelda let the packaging drop on her warbling belly, completely uncovering the box with the upside down Triforce before flipping the lid back open to reveal the interior. She then removed a small bit of paper, which also displayed the inverted emblem, to reveal a set of six chocolate truffles.

“Princess,” Tartan winced as her belly rumbled again. “I don’t think-”

“I know,” Zelda said, her breathing noticeably lower. A small dribble of drool coasted over her lip, passing over her chocolate-stained chin as she continued. “They’re not like the others. They’re cursed.”

“Cursed?!” the guardsman narrowed his eyes at the box.

Zelda held up one of the bon-bons, and in her eyes, sparkles shimmered. Barely restrained gluttony, a desire more intense than an alcoholic with whiskey, but Zelda rolled the treat between thumb and forefinger, inspecting it over. “They have to be. It has to be them. They’re addictive. Highly fattening. But they help with digestion. If I’m going to move, I need to…”

She popped the chocolate into her mouth.

Everything about her seemed to change. The awkward stiff movements, the strained breath, but the slight glow on her person maintained as Zelda leaned back and released a soft, fat, delectable “Ouughhhhh…”

The moment she swallowed, another was shoved into her mouth. This one was slower, if only because she was still pulling the first down, but the effect was instantaneous when the treat met her belly.

Like the impact of her hiccups, Zelda’s tummy throbbed outwards, and the Princess spread her legs wider to let it sag between her thighs. Her hand covered her mouth, moaning through the second chocolate treat while her stomach released a wet, slopping squelch.

She swallowed, a snorting breath sucked up through her nose, and the sweat had returned. It dribbled from her brow, began to form beneath the fatty fold on her chin, and in pure decadence, she mashed the next two chocolates in at once.

Tartan stepped backwards, eyebrows twitching as he watched the effect. Her gut, which had looked as tight as a drum, began to visually soften. An inch, then another, then he noticed the tears on her chest pulling wider. A third formed as well, around the lowest curve of her breasts, and he heard the seams of her tunic snapping from both sides.

It looked for a moment as if Zelda then grew the smallest bit taller, but Tartan then saw the silent creep in her hips. Flab thickened the Princess’ thighs, weight filled the cheeks of her ass. Her leg kicked, drawing his eyes to her exposed ankle as fat formed down there, and one of the straps snapped off from her foot.

The wobbling pregnant look melted into Zelda, leaving a wider, pillow-soft look with the other two treats dribbling into her belly. Zelda leaned back, gasping with hedonistic pleasure as she picked up the last two. Her bright blue eyes watching them for a moment with languid admiration before placing them both in her mouth, and seemingly swallowing them whole.

Zelda dropped the box, and it rebounded off of a soft, jiggly stomach. The belly of a girl who was three years obese, wide and heavy and undeniably fat. Tartan winced with worry as Zelda gripped herself tightly, with her wide outfit tearing further around her. A slight sense of alarm came when he thought she might outgrow it completely before Zelda placed her right hand to her fleshy right cheek, and her swelling weight slowed.

She closed her eyes, a huge, pleasure-filled smile completely filling out her soft face. “Last… bite…” she managed, taking a long, slow breath, before looking up at Tartan and giving him an innocent, chubby smile. “I think I’ve had my fill of chocolates.”

Tartan scratched at his head. “Uhh… Yes, Princess…” he replied lamely.

Zelda let out a long, sighing breath. She placed both of her hands on her stomach, lightly jiggling her body before poking and prodding, as if to inspect the damage she’d done. “You know,” she said, “I thought my week would play out a little bit differently.”

“I can’t say I blame you,” Tartan responded.

“While I was eating, I could feel myself slipping. As if I were falling down into a deep sleep, in a chocolate bath at a chocolate spa. But then something more, even beneath that...” Zelda poked at her arm, where a fold of fat now formed to pinch near her armpit. “Does that make sense?”

The guardsman blinked at her. “Umm… I think Lady Greenia’s place has those chocolate baths. It’s a spa. Or, a hot spring, kinda. Off Center Street, in the Western District.”

Zelda dropped her arm and looked up at him. She tilted her head, like a curious child, before looking down to herself. “I really must get out more. I’ve hardly even dreamt of a chocolate bath.”

“Yeah… uh…” Words faltered Tartan. He didn’t quite know what to say, so stupidly, he let his mouth take charge. “I bet you have some pretty interesting dreams.”

Zelda’s puckered lips slowly transformed into a frown. Her folded, chocolate-covered chin and fattened body gave her an almost comedic look, but she had very sad eyes. “I don’t think a girl like me really gets to dream, Guardsman.”

Now, even his mouth failed him.

Finally, Zelda moved. She twisted a little from side to side before again pouting at her body then looking up to Tartan. “Would you be willing to help a lady stand up?” she asked.

“O-of course, Princess!” he said, hopping into motion. He moved before her, extending both hands, but Zelda stopped short of grabbing his.

“What have you, there?” she asked.

Tartan looked down, seeing the crumpled-up paper still pinched in his hand. The orders from Vesmas, the warnings of magic and the city-wide hunt. He looked from the paper to the empty box of cursed chocolates, before into Zelda’s blue eyes.

“I think I know where we might find your mask.”