March Poll Story- The Obesity, Book I (Patreon)

Sing to me, O muse, of the fox of many appetites, who wandered full many ways after he had dined on the sacred cattle of Apollo. Many were the meals he ate and delicacies he tasted, aye, and many the woes he suffered in his gut upon the sea, seeking to win his own fame and Hestia’s favor. 

Of Odysseus’ house he was, the famed King of Ithaca, favored of Athena and hero of the Greeks. Obeseus was his cousin, a humble baker who missed the chance for glory in far-away Troy, when Morpheus did enthrall him in the land of dreams, thus did Obeseus sleep through the call of war by Agamemnon. Ten years did his cousin the King keep away from his wife and son, and ten years did Obeseus serve as the palace cook, making large meals for fair Penelope’s loathsome suitors, who did mock Obeseus for his well-fed frame, for diligently and earnestly did he partake and taste of every dish he served, to ensure its quality, he said. When wily Odysseus returned, Obeseus rejoiced, and prepared a large meal for his far flung cousin, who was noticeably stronger and broader of shoulder, after ten years of adventure and peril. 

But Nexus, mistress of discord, preyed upon Obeseus’ heart, for the fox was soft and fluffy, with a rich coat of luxuriant fur that made his belly seem all the larger. Long were the days where he would listen to Odysseus recount and brag of his exploits, but Obeseus did stay his hand against his cousin, and declared instead to travel, and prove himself his cousin’s equal at sea. Though Odysseus did try gently to dissuade his cousin, Obeseus knew a hero’s heart beat beneath his flabby chest. Off he travelled, with a bag filled with generous supplies of food, of course, to the Temple of Zeus at Olympia. Spake he to Zeus the All-father, Lord of the Skies and King of the Gods, after preparing a sacrifice at Thunder-bearing Zeus’ feet.

“O Zeus,” spake he, “Grant me your blessing for a great quest, for I wish to become a hero!”

And laugh did Zeus, for he saw that Obeseus was weak and wimpy. He titled Obeseus a dork of the greatest proportions, and told him to leave and send in a virgin he actually wanted to bone.

Disheartened, but certain he would find his destiny, Obeseus travelled on to Athens, to the fair and glorious Parthenon. Prayed he at the altar of ivory and gold to Athena Nike, bearer of wisdom and war. 

“O Athena,” spake he, “Grant me your blessing for a great quest, for I wish to become a hero!”

And wise Athena did let him down gently, for she saw that his heart was true, but he was also not her type. Lying that she was just too busy with other heroes right now, Athena bid him travel to the Oracle at Delphi.

So went Obeseus to Delphi, and wept did he when he saw the many, many steps leading to the all-knowing temple of Pythia and Sun-blessed Apollo, as he was down to his last piece of baklava. 

When the chubby fox wheezed his way up to the Oracle, praying Thanatos, harbinger of death, would be swift and merciful, he fell before the Oracle, who spake thus:

“Hear ye, the words of Apollo! Do as thou hast always done, Obeseus, and follow thy stomach.”

And with that, it was over. Obeseus was still not able to walk, so did the Priestesses of Apollo roll him out of the temple. The fox felt shame in his heart, but his stomach growled like the Nemean Lion, so he travelled to find himself a snack. Mayhap a nice plate of calamari would ease his heart. 

On the road again, the sultry smell of freshly baked bread did tempt heroic Obeseus, called was he to the windowsill of a lone shrine along the road, where a fresh loaf of barley bread liberally drizzled with honey cooled. Overcome with hunger, our hero did partake in the loaf, and then did he know that he had profaned against the gods, for from the fires of the oven where the bread had been baked, the golden visage of Hestia, Mother of the Hearth, did appear!

“Oh, shi—” Spake Obeseus, “I mean, O, Hestia, grant me your blessing for a great quest, for I wish to become a hero!”

And Hestia did raise her noble brow. “Didst thou eat of my bread?” She asked, but already did she know her answer; as a goddess, she could see the remaining bread behind Obeseus’ back. Besides, crumbs were liberally sprinkled upon the fox’s mouth.

“Uh… no?”

Hestia did purse her lips, then nodded. “Very well. I will give you a quest, o hero. Since my bread has mysteriously disappeared, a new loaf must be prepared. Sail ye to the Island of the Lotus Eaters, and retrieve the honey made from their flowers, and I will give thee my blessing.”

And so did Obeseus’ heart soar, for the Island of the Lotus Eaters was one of the distant lands Odysseus had talked of in the most dire terms. If Obeseus could succeed where wily Odysseus had failed, then surely he would be hailed as the greater hero!

Hastened did the fox back to the docks of Ithaca, hiring a crew and ship to sail across Poseidon’s watery domain. Well did the crew eat, for Obeseus was a generous host and captain, and well-provisioned was his expedition. Indeed, Obeseus, in his excitement, did grow even rounder during the first few weeks at sea, tightening his tunic as his belly swelled. Then did Obeseus learn, distressingly, that provisions were not easily obtained in the middle of the ocean, and his plan to fish with a single fishing pole did little to fill their stores. His crew, now fattened after weeks of Obeseus’ cooking, did groan almost as loud as their stomachs, and Obeseus led them to the first island he could find. 

A pleasant and sunlit isle, fortune seemed to smile on Obeseus and his men as they disembarked on the gentle shore, for large herds of cattle roamed the rolling plains. Fat and shapely were these cattle, with coats as white as their milk. Giving thanks unto Zeus, Obeseus’ crew slew the fattest cow, and the fox did win the hearts of his crew once more, as he cooked the tastiest steaks they had ever eaten.

But little did they know the wrath of Olympus was coming for them, as these were the Cattle of the Sun God, herded on the holy isle of Thrinacia. Luminous Apollo, filled with anger at Obeseus’ theft, threatened to drag the sun into Hades until this affront was paid for, and swore this before the golden throne of all-powerful Zeus.

“Ye Gods,” spake great and mighty Zeus, “It’s one cow. Don’t you have anything better to worry about?” 

But wise Apollo, God of prophecy and truth, held incriminating frescoes of Zeus, in the guise of a swan, and Lido at Dionysus’ last wine-tasting party. Thus did all-seeing Apollo express queenly Hera’s interest in seeing these heavily detailed works of art.

“What Lido and I had was beautiful, and you wouldn’t understand it!” Lord Zeus thundered. “Fine, I’ll throw a lightning bolt or something, just get rid of those pictures.”

Thus, when Obeseus and his crew returned to their ship, Zeus did turn the sky, filling it with dark and foreboding clouds. The winds did howl, and rain did fall, rocking the ship until Zeus threw out a lightning bolt, splitting Obeseus’ ship in twain!

Seeing his crew claimed by Poseidon and Hades, alongside the leftover beef, made Obeseus’ heart grow heavy. He clung to the mast, and prayed to Hestia not to forsake him in his darkest hour. Hestia heard his prayer, and after many minutes trying to remember who heroic Obeseus was, gave unto him her mercy, guiding him to the shore of a strange and mystical isle.

When Obeseus awoke, he found himself on a sandy white beach, and the face of a beautiful vixen gazing down on him, a finger gently prodding his protruding gut.

“My, my,” she whispered. “You look as if you’ve been here before. Have you?”

Obeseus could only thank Hestia for granting his prayers, for this vixen was like a goddess, and indeed, did Obeseus feel giddy as she tickled at his belly. “I have not seen this island before,” spake he.

“I am Circe,” she announced, and Obeseus was sore afraid, for Odysseus had spoken words of warning about this enchantress. “Daughter of Helios, Lady of this Isle. And you are?”

“A-a traveller,” Obeseus said quickly, as he did shy away from Circe’s touch. 

“Well, Ah Traveller,” Circe spake, “I think you’re in need of a proper meal.” She did trace her finger in a circle around Obeseus’ middle, in a manner most comely. “This adorable belly of yours should be fed soon.”

“Well, I,” and Obeseus’ words did stumble, as a blush arose to his fluffy white cheeks. “Adorable, you say?”

Flummoxed and entranced by the vixen, Obeseus followed Circe up to her palatial estate, clad in marble and bronze it was, surrounded by rich and lush grape vines. The fox trembled, unsure of what to do. He did not remember the words of wily Odysseus, for he had left the room for a snack when his noble cousin had regaled his family of time with the sorceress, as fair Penelope had been keen to know what had made her husband spend a year with the comely vixen, and by her look, Obeseus knew to avoid her wrath like it was that of Hera.

“You seem tense, friend,” Circe said. “Worry not, for you are not my only guest.”

Obeseus’ heart skipped a beat as the vixen revealed the great hall of her mansion. Odysseus said that she turned men into pigs, but it came to his mind that this had been mere wordplay. Too large to lounge on recliners, the thralls of Circe were perched up on their fatty sides on piles of pillows strewn about the marble floor. Great and ponderous were their bellies, like boulders and hills looming over Obeseus. Their limbs did appear to be swaddled in lard, and wobbled at the slightest touch. Each face the portly fox could see was swollen, distended with the roundest of cheeks, and eyes that were half open and glazed.

“None of them seem to be as charming as you,” spake Circe. “Quite a bit of them have become unspeakably dull…” The vixen did pat a particularly large wolf, so vast in his corpulence his round belly was the size of an ox, who did softly moan before listlessly reaching for another morsel to eat. “Let’s hope you fare better.”

Obeseus could not fight the Enchantress’ lure, and of her food he did partake. Praying to all the gods, his mouth quivered as he felt Circe’s magic force his mouth open, and was forced to bite into a pie of figs and beans. To his horror, the taste was most foul, and with great willpower did he spit it out.

“Ugh!” Spake he, “It tastes terrible.”

Circe did stare in wonderment. “What.”

“No wonder your guests are so miserable. Is this all you feed them?”

The vixen became flummoxed. “I have never received any complaints about my cooking!” she did declare.

“Have you asked any of them?” spake Obeseus.

Her words did stumble. “Well… not as such. I usually just enthrall them.”

“It has been said,” Obeseus stated, “that you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. If you actually want to make them happy to eat, I suggest you make better-tasting food.”

“And just how do you propose I make better food, since you seem to think I have no talent?” spake Circe, anger coming into her eyes. Obeseus saw that he must tread carefully, lest the Enchantress unleash her wrath upon him.

“What if I cook for you? I’ve been a palace cook for years, I can show you a few tricks.”

Circe did ponder his words, and then the wisdom of Obeseus rang true in her ears. With haste did she lead him to her palace’s kitchens, providing any and all ingredients he did ask of her. And what a feast was prepared! Baklava, calamari, quail eggs, eel soup, cheese, and wine were all prepared in generous portions. And so amazed was the Enchantress at Obeseus’ skill, she did partake in the meal gladly, tasting each and every morsel. But clever Circe did eat but little more than what hunger demanded, turning the vast majority of the feast over to Obeseus, and fast did his belly fill. 

“No room for dessert?” Circe did ask, again teasing at Obeseus’ full gut, and how it did threaten the cloth of his tunic!

“Well…” spake Obeseus with confidence, his eyes lustful as they gazed upon Circe’s full jugs… of wine. “I did prepare some honeycakes…”

Newly clothed in rich and royal robes, Obeseus did prepare a massive feast for Circe’s guests upon the next day. And lo, did they smile, dimpling many a cheek as Obeseus’ delicious cooking revived all of their spirits. How Circe was amazed, as she no longer needed spells to compel her thralls to eat.

Clever Circe did prepare to beguile Obeseus, to keep him with her with honeyed words, but so glad was Obeseus to cook and prepare food, that fast did his quest fade into memory. Days melded into weeks, then into months, as Apollo led the sun again and again over Circe’s palace, and how cramped it did feel! Though her great hall, now so much more like a luxurious symposium than the stable of pigs it had been, seemed cramped, her guests now swelling to new proportions. Her magics supplied stout Obeseus with endless foodstuff, and lo did her guests swell! Narrow were the corridors between the canyons of fat in her halls, and even did Circe find her lithe figure melt away. Full was her bosom and wide were her hips, which did please Obeseus.

But so well did Obeseus eat, that none could deny his heft and impressive girth. Large was his belly, swollen to the size of an ox, and vast and rippling as the sea at the slightest touch. His gut hovering but an inch above the floor, it was but for Obeseus’ strength and willpower that kept him moving, as his legs, now rounder than pillars, did wobble and bounce with each lurching step. Circe did take great delight in watching him waddle through her marble halls, as no tunic or robes could contain his round, bouncing booty. Her other guests had no fear of walking, but though they dwarfed Obeseus, comely were his vast proportions in Circe’s eyes, and how she loved to watch him eat, as flabby arms did shovel food into a gaping maw as hungry as Charybdis. Long and happy were their days, but soon did Hestia remember that someone still owed her a fresh loaf of bread.

So was swift-footed Hermes, messenger of the gods, dispatched, finding Obeseus in the shade of an olive tree, as Circe did feed him figs, fondling breasts now larger than her own. 

“Obeseus!” spake Hermes, “I— by Zeus! I did not expect to find you at your… large stature.” Coolly did Hermes recover himself, for he was half afraid he had come upon a beached whale. “Hestia calls you to action, for she still desires the sweet nectar of the Lotus-Eaters!”

“Can’t it wait until after lunch?” spake Obeseus.

“Ah… no, actually,” spake Hermes with trepidation, for he had never heard that answer before.

“Fine,” Obeseus did groan, and pull himself to his feet, as his billowing body did jiggle greatly. He did pull Circe close, as layers of lard did wash over her. “Sorry, babe, I got hero stuff to do. I guess,” spake he, an evil eye directed at Hermes.

“Oh, but you cannot travel alone!” declared she, and used her powers to summon a boat of silver. “We will go together. I cannot bear the thought of you losing a single pound.”

Grateful for the Enchantress’ company, brave Obeseus did lumber towards the enchanted boat. But as he stepped aboard the deck, loud was the groan, as the boat sank down, resting on the sandy banks below.

“Uh…” Obeseus spake, a sheepish smile dimpling his cheeks. “Do you have anything sturdier?”

This was but the first step for Obeseus, for his destiny still lay ahead in the far away home of the Lotus-Eaters.