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Some time ago, our land was ruled by a wise and gracious elven queen. She had the favor of her people, and she possessed enough to fulfill every worldly desire. But she yearned for something more.

She found her answer one evening at dinner.

The palace dining hall had a lofty ceiling and beautiful marble walls. It was lit from end to end with bright lamps.

The queen attended dinner as she always did: alone, aside from her servants. Still, she was in full regalia, with a jade-colored bejeweled dress that clung to her svelte form. Her skin was pale as the moon, and her flowing hair was the most delicate shade of blonde. Her cheek bones were sharp, her breasts were slight, and her hips were small.

She sat at the head of a long dining table. Her chair was ornately beveled, and its high back was cushioned with lush, purple upholstery. Her diminutive frame took up a mere fraction of its seat.

Her server was a well-dressed ten-foot-tall firbolg with a pale blue complexion. He unloaded dinner from a cart onto the table; there was a covered dish, silverware, a silver goblet, and a gravy boat. He filled the goblet halfway with white wine and stood by.

The queen looked to him. "Thank you, Gustin."

The queen's cook was a thickset human with dark, sun-stroked skin. She wore a black shirt and an apron, although the apron covered a mere fraction of her buxom bosom and her barrel-sized belly. Her hips spanned even wider, casting heavy curves in her slacks.

The cook lifted the shimmering cloche from its dish, unveiling the evening's meal. There were two small, pale breasts of lean meat beside a serving of thin, green strands. She placed the cloche on the cart. "Your dinner this evening is boiled fowl with fresh sprouts. On the side is a serving of gravy from the bird."

The gravy boat had caught the queen's eyes. It was gorgeous. The material was a shining mithril, and it was shaped with an elegant, curved spout and a slender, dainty handle.

The queen stared at it. "Koren, is this a new sauciere?"

The cook nodded. "Yes, Your Highness. My dad just died, and I got his things. That was one of 'em."

The queen spoke to the cook while studying the gravy boat. "Your father, the one who claimed that djinni blood flowed in him?"

The cook chuckled, heaving her bust. "Yeah, he said that some ancestor of his was a genasi. It always changed, though. He could never decide whether he was an earth elemental or a fire elemental. With this thing, I feel like a water elemental." She hefted her gut and bounced it, emphasizing the liquid amorphousness of her blubbery belly.

The queen finally looked to her cook. "In any event, I am honored to be served using such a valuable heirloom."

The cook clasped her hands over her middle. "I appreciate it. I'm sure my old man does, too." She bowed. "Anyway, I'll take my leave. Don't hesitate to call if you want anything." She waddled out of the dining room, bouncing her rotund butt cheeks behind her.

The server stayed on hand to attend to the queen.

The queen normally abstained from frivolous touches like gravy. But Koren had shared such a special, personal belonging. It would be a shame not use it. The queen plucked the gravy boat by its handle. She tipped it slightly, drizzling viscous, brown sauce onto the breasts. Satisfied, she set the boat down.

The queen poked her fork into the meat. She sliced off a small bite with her knife. She deposited the food in her mouth and chewed.

The gravy was savory and salty. Its taste piqued the queen's interest. She needed a more liberal application of the sauce to truly understand it.

She poured more gravy over the fowl meat. In her haste, she tilted farther than she intended, and gravy plopped out at an excessive rate. Still, the queen continued until the two breasts were lost under a sea of brown sauce. She laughed nervously to herself and set the gravy boat down.

She tucked a napkin in the neckline of her dress to catch any potential drippings.

The queen cut off another piece of meat. This time, it was a mouth-stretching hunk fit for a monarch. Her fork dredged it from the swamp of gravy and plunged it into her mouth.

That was more like it. The gravy's decadence entranced the queen. She cut off another piece before swallowing.

The queen snared bite after bite. Her modesty was gone, but not her majesty. Her lips wrapped clean and fast around every piece, no matter how big and saucy.

It was not long before she had eaten the full serving of meat.

Unfortunately, much of the gravy remained behind on the plate. Fortunately, she had not touched the sprouts. She dragged her fork into the sprouts and swept them into the tempting pile of leftover gravy. In but a few forkfuls, the entire serving of sprouts travelled down her gullet, along with a hearty helping of gravy.

Still, the queen could not pry her mind from the gravy. She took the boat in both hands, opened her mouth, and poured the sauce directly in. Delicious liquid flooded her, and she imbibed gulp after gulp. She held the boat with genteel manners, yet she could not hold back her pleased moans. The hot, thick drink was salty in just the right way. It poured continually into her without pause.

Finally, the boat ran dry. She placed it on the table. She uttered a chest-heaving hiccup that echoed down the lonely dining hall. With the gravy bubbling in her middle, she felt an urge that needed an answer. "Gustin, fetch me the fruitcake."

The firbolg nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty. Forgive me my slippery memory--you mean to ask for the one you'll serve to the delegation tomorrow?"

The queen nodded. "Yes, the very same. Don't fret, we have other delicacies to provide them."

The firbolg bowed. "Very well." He turned and left.

The queen sipped her wine. It was the same light, sweet wine as every night. But something in her was different. She didn't want just a taste to cleanse her palate. She wanted to consume. She gulped down the goblet. Then, she filled it to its rim. She upturned it at her lip, draining it in an unbroken series of healthy chugs. She poured herself another gobletful.

The firbolg returned and saw her pouring. He set a loaf pan down on the table with a knife and fork. "The cake, Your Majesty. And you have my apologies for not attending to your needs." He nodded to the bottle of wine.

The queen jumped, startled as if she had been caught. Her senses returned when she remembered her station. "It is no trouble at all. I merely thought I would pour it as I waited." The queen looked to the fruitcake in the loaf pan. It was stuffed with dried fruit and candied nuts, with small pocks of cake between them. "Now leave me, I wish to dine in privacy."

The firbolg nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty." He left the dining hall.

The queen dug her fork into the cake. It was tough and dense, so she had to press down hard. She tore out a clump and popped it into her mouth. The fruits and nuts were impossibly sweet, and the cake was solid. The hunk was so tough that her jaws strained to mash it into digestible portions. She swallowed the cloying dessert, and it pounded heavy into her stomach. Its heft was perfect. She took a swig of wine to celebrate the bite.

The queen applied herself to the cake. The cake was so firm that each forkful required a strong arm to rip from its pan. And each morsel was so dense that she had to focus her mandible through it. She was rewarded for her efforts with a taste so sweet that her wine became merely water. And her gut greedily claimed its saccharine, stomach-swelling bounty.

The queen felt an unfamiliar desire for weight, for size, for mass. Each bite dropped like a brick in her stomach. And she followed each mouthful of cake with a chug of wine. Her flat stomach began to curve outward in a firm, pregnant bulge, showing against her dinner dress. To date, it was the only curve on her body.

She scraped the last crumbs of fruitcake from the pan. She sat back and rubbed her slender fingers over her bloated midsection. It was solid as a rock and round as a balloon. "Heavens... how did I ever eat so much?" She sat back and surveyed the empty dish and pan before her.

Again, the gravy boat caught the queen's eye. She picked it up. "This sauce server is the most exciting thing that's happened in these castle walls in a long time." She stroked it once, running her delicate fingertips over its well-crafted metal. "I wish I wasn't so bored." She stroked it a second time.

A slight wisp of pink smoke wafted from the spout of the boat.

The queen suspected treachery. She tossed the boat onto the table. She thought to run, but her belly was too heavy. She thought to call for help, but she was interrupted.

From nowhere emerged a deep, booming voice. "I sense a hunger within you."

The queen clutched the arms of her chair. "Who is there? Show yourself."

The pink smoke drifted into the chair to the queen's right. It solidified into a body, with legs, arms, and a head.

Its appearance put the queen at ease. She became less suspicious and more intrigued.

Its fat feet were stuffed into curly-toed poulaines. Its calves were wide as the queen's waist, and its thighs were a fair bit wider. Its fog-formed flesh was so abundant that it filled its harem pants to the point of bursting. Its stomach flowed over its knees, bare, and its waist engulfed the arms of the chair under it. Its generous, melon-sized breasts pulled its bra tight. Its flabby arms laid on the sides of its belly. Its face was like that of a human, yet much flabbier than any the queen had ever seen. Its brilliant pink hair was drawn back in a single braid. "Here I am. In the flesh, as it were. So, tell me your hunger."

The queen rubbed her distended stomach. "I just ate. I'm thoroughly sated, I assure you." As if to prove her comment, a rippling belch burst out of her.

The smoky being shook its head. "No, there is another desire within you."

The queen guffawed. "What, you mean sexual desire? Hardly. As queen, I have my pick of the guard; from the strongest to the weakest, the leanest to the fattest, the men to the women and more..."

The being tilted its head upward, looking down its nose at the queen. "Hardly, nothing so base as that."

The queen stroked her chin. Her guest was getting more interesting by the moment.

The being continued. "Tell me if this rings true: these walls stifle you. Diplomats and royalty visit with happy endings and successful treaties. Yet polite society prevents you from interacting with the vulgar, the low, the dregs of your domain. They are ever-present, yet you are shielded from their true selves."

The queen furrowed her brow. "As reluctant as I am, I must admit that you have pinned me down."

The creature snapped its ethereal fingers. "Well then. In that case, I have exactly what you need. In the coming nights, I shall regale you with tales of four adventurers who traveled to this very capital many moons ago. Weary and hungry, these poor souls merely wanted their fill."

The queen looked askance, skeptical. "You will?"

The being clasped its hands behind its head. "Yes. I am a genie, after all. By rubbing my lamp, you have become my master. And, as the old saying goes, your wish is my command. Now, what do you know of the dwarf clan, Wellfed?"