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Charro was a man on a mission to make a name for himself. He'd been adventuring across the land for years now, constantly prowling for adventure and excitement. The countryside was in no shortage of that, offering a phalanx of folk with quests to offer and missions to give. He wasn't quite the mighty warrior he hoped to be, but not by lack of ambition. Nearly an entire life of being a mage's apprentice had suited him nicely for seeking out and solving the world's many mysteries, as long as they didn't pose too much of a threat to his life. So much studying and reading about the world around him had stoked a flame of curiosity that burned as hot as the day it had first been lit. So many books described, in lurid detail, how majestic and beautiful the world was. Eventually he was tired of being the one reading about it. He had to go out and see it all for himself.

Charro was a fire lizard, drenched from head to toe in brilliantly neon-orange scales. His neatly cropped hair was the exact same color, blending in perfectly with his scalp and the sides of his head. Circular glasses sat on his nicely rounded nose and in front of his cerulean eyes. He had a slim torso and a neck he liked to keep covered with his favorite yellow ascot. He kept his clothes in neat order, even when he was on adventures out in the wilderness. Everything from the waist up was slim, dainty, and proportioned. The same could not be said for anything below it. Charro's entire lower half seemed to be borrowed from someone else, it was so obstreperously curvy. Those who met him for the first time often thought he was walking around in some queer pair of pants or armor, only to find out that his handsomely swollen thighs and buttocks were perfectly genuine. His thighs were like small wine barrels. His ass wasn't a wagon, but an entire caravan. So magnificent was his bottom section that he was unable to wear any pants, fully exposing his legs in all of their juicy glory. The hardest to believe was his manhood. Somehow even less proportionate to his torso, he had a monstrously large penis that, even when flaccid, hung pendulously over the titanic cushion of his scrotum. The final attribute to his absurd thiccness was his cherubic lizard tail, the end of which burned like a candle, signaling his life force.

His adventures brought him across lands far and wide. He discovered quaint villages and met the most interesting people. Between those medieval towns populated by tight-knit communities were swathes of uncivilized forest, unsullied by the ideas of man. Or so it seemed, at least. Sprinkled across that wild landscape, cut off from the anthro world by bastions of trees, were the abandoned remnants of a civilization long lost to time. Cataclysms no longer in memory had vanquished whatever people lived to build those many villages and catacombs which had succumbed to the inevitable encroach of nature. Any person wandering the vast forest could stumble onto an uncharted ruin or accidentally plunge into a well-camouflaged cave. The ones fortunate enough to remain relatively intact after so many centuries were plush with ancient knowledge and indecipherable wisdom. Books not destroyed by the gluttony of moths were rife with runes yet to be translated. Fields of magic discovered and then lost were waiting to be found again within their archaic pages. Mages and warriors across the land sought these many ruins like the treasure they were.

Among the most avid of them was Charro, who was wet behind the ears in such endeavors, but had more than enough gusto and vigor to keep himself on the hunt for more and more forbidden knowledge. Fortune had found him a few ruins already. While he hadn't found anything especially significant so far, there were few things more satisfying than stumbling onto a virgin ruin after weeks of toil and effort. It was that rush of having his struggles vindicated that continued his career of adventuring throughout the vast woodlands and seeking out whatever ancient treasures he could find. He'd assumed the life of a nomad, going wherever the secrets were, spending no more time in whichever village than he needed to. He sought out clues from the locals for whatever clues or rumors they had for him. He never bothered to pry if they knew nothing or gave him the cold shoulder. The best response was always to leave that place for another, more welcoming establishment.

It was one such village where he stumbled upon a lead given to him by the local innkeeper. Just east of the town gate was an old crypt purportedly filled with some ancient artifacts. People were warned to stay away from it out of fear of feral bats and potentially dark magic. Charro asked around and heard similar descriptions. "I wouldn't go near it," he was warned. "People who have been near it say they felt some very, very malicious energy." That was more than an incentive for Charro to go check it out. He gathered his equipment and left the village to go searching for the crypt. With his rucksack tied close to his back and his flaming tail wagging behind him, he set off into the forest with high hopes of what he would find.

It took a few days' journey to finally stumble upon what he was looking for. It was surprisingly unconcealed by the forest around it, sitting in the very middle of a sizable clearing. It was a tall stone building whose facade was wrapped in vines and smoothed by erosion. The architecture was a familiar theme of rigid corners, swirling tapestry, and cylindrical columns. There wasn't any sign of other buildings around it. It was a wildly out-of-place building in the middle of nowhere, totally on its lonesome, without even a single other structure to call a friend. It struck Charro as weird. Most ruins were entire villages or town centers, not singular buildings which were oddly well kept. It was rugged looking, but not to the point that Charro would've labeled it a crypt. It looked more like a library or a townhouse, not a place to keep the dead.

He walked around to the front entrance. A rectangular hole of pitch darkness stood in front of him, right in the center of the stone masonry. Dried leaves and twigs were scattered around the porch and in the doorway. There wasn't any dirt or debris out of place, a sign that nobody had entered it recently. He walked up to the door and peered inside. There weren't any windows, rendering the building completely dark. He recalled the villager describing a malicious energy. Sure, the place was eerie, but it didn't quite make the list of most ominous places Charro had visited. If anything, its unique shape and condition made him want to explore it more. He held his hand up in front of his face and whispered a brief chant under his breath. Woosh. Flames rose from skin like a lit match. The lowest layer of the fire, where it clung to his skin, was a dank blue which turned into a brilliant orange that crackled and whipped around his fingers. He stepped inside, bringing a deceptively broad glow of light with him around his feet. He looked down and was surprised to see a moth-bitten maroon rug. He looked up and lifted his flaming hand to see an impressively ornate design on the ceiling. It was a brilliant painting of what appeared to be a nude goddess or spirit. "Wow," he whispered.

He brought his hand back down and wandered in further, onto the battered rug. He watched the outer limit of his flame's glow, careful not to bump into or trip over anything. He came across a table stacked with books and papers. A translucent layer of dust had been sprinkled over everything like a light snow. Excitement fluttered in his chest. Ancient books were rare to come buy, and these looked like they were in relatively good condition. He continued walking around. He found more tables, more books, more parchments decorated with indecipherable scribbles. He came to an abrupt halt when he came up to the wall. Covering it was a wooden shelf completely laden with books crammed against each other in neat rows. The eyes behind his glasses went wide as they tracked from the floor and up to the ceiling. The shelves went all the way up and all the way across. It dawned on him how accurate his assessment had been when he first saw the building. It was a library.

He couldn't believe his fortune. A gleeful squeal echoed through the darkness while he did a miniature celebratory dance. He could only fathom what ancient knowledge and stories were kept here. He had probably wandered onto centuries worth of undiscovered texts and lore. So many people back at the village knew about this place, yet it was him who had the luck of finding out what it really was. He could already see his name in the archeological and magic journals: Charro, Fire Mage and Adventurer, Discoverer of Ancient Wisdom. He couldn't wait any longer. He attacked the shelves and peeled off as many books as he could fit in his arms. His still burning hand kept its flame to itself, a result of his magic. He sat at one of the tables and began transcribing the titles and authors of the books he had taken. It was in an ancient language he had taught himself to translate. The alphabet, a motley assortment of queer runes and slashes, had been ingrained into his mind like the back of his hand. He whipped out his parchment and hurriedly transcribed as many front covers as he could. Most of them were boring histories or inane folktales. The ones that caught his attention the most fervently were the series on magic. He went beyond copying their covers and skimmed their pages, using a certain caution to make sure he didn't tear those delicate pages. While he didn't have time to write everything down in excruciating detail like he wanted to, he quickly scribbled as much pertinent information that he could while he was in there.

With the first set of books complete he got up and collected more. He wandered the shelves, translating as many book spines as he could and plucking the ones that sounded the most useful. He was looking up at the shelves, not paying much attention to where he was going, when he stubbed his toe. "Ow!" He bounced back on one foot and held the afflicted one. He hissed through gritted teeth and cursed his carelessness. He looked for what he had bumped into, and saw something that gave him pause. Breaking the shelves on the wall apart was a chest-high stone pedestal. On top of it was a thick, purple book, miraculously clean from any dust or blemish. Indeed, it seemed peculiarly immaculate, like it had just been printed yesterday. The pedestal it sat on was much worse for wear. Charro was far enough away from it so that the glow from his hand didn't illuminate it that much, but somehow the book seemed as bright as it would be in daylight. Its purple cover was like an amethyst held underneath the light of the moon, faint and ghastly. He got closer for a better look, and saw the front cover. There was no title or name. The spine was blank too. The only thing on the front was a golden inlay that depicted a fanciful insignia Charro did not recognize. It was a broad circle like an enchanting ring. Three triangles sat on equidistant points on the edges. In the center was a smaller, much more intricate ring packed with a chaotic yet perfectly arranged assortment of simple shapes and blissful swirls.

Charro didn't know what to make of it. He'd never seen anything like it. The closest thing it resembled was what he had seen on enchanting tables or in summoning rituals. This, however, couldn't have been anything like that, at least he thought. He wondered what may have been inside. A book in such immaculate condition within an arena of squalor and decay had to be protected by some sort of magic. Maybe this was the source of the "bad auras". He had to admit, the book had an unsettling vibe to it. He thought that maybe a wiser man would know to leave well enough alone. This book contained a magic not to be trifled with.

It's too bad that Charro was the curious type. Without much more delay or thought, he grabbed the front cover and opened it to the first page. He hoped to find a title or maybe an author, but there was no such luck. In fact, he didn't know what the hell he had just found. Written on the papyrus in front of him in what looked like crimson ink were runes so small and tightly packed that it looked like pure gibberish. The entire page had hardly any room left between each glyph. He looked closer and confirmed to himself that this wasn't any language he had ever seen or read about. He turned the page and was greeted by double of the same thing. He correctly deduced that the rest of the book was the same way. It didn't stop him from taking another close look. He scanned each and every icon for anything he could've recognized. His blue eyes skittered back and forth in their sockets, reflecting that odd assortment of scratchy lines and their alien words.

Then Charro froze. His bent spine locked in its place. His joints jammed. Every muscle in his body turned to stone, sparing only his heart, lungs, and eyes which turned wide out of panic. He tried moving, but it was like the signals from his brain were hitting roadblocks on the way to his limbs. He stood there completely motionless, unable to scream or resist. All he could do was dart his eyes around and pray that whatever trap he had sprung would leave him alive.

Charro didn't know that the trap he had triggered wasn't a trap at all. The book he had opened wasn't some snare disguised as a treasure to lure in dull travelers, but rather a stark warning to keep adventurers at bay. Charro failed to read the warning, and was currently suffering the consequences. Those mangled lines he had been reading weren't lines of text, but the emblems used to inscribe spirits into objects. So long and diverse was the inscription needed that only a thick book such as the one Charro was bowed over could hold it. Opening it and attempting to read it had done just what the imprisoned being had needed to reach out into the space around its leather bound pages and grab onto the nearest medium, in this case, Charro.

The malignant spirit had suffered the last several centuries not as a physical being, but as a discorporeal consciousness bonded to the book by magic. It was without sensation or energy, having been relegated to being a floating mind made of nothing but memory and emotion. Like a lost soul stretched across the infinite limbo, it was doomed to suffer the eternal misery of featurelessness, knowing only what it had done and what it should have done instead. It could not see, it could not hear, it could not smell, it could not taste, and it could not touch. It was a child within their mothers womb, tethered not by the umbilical cord, but by a magic so cruel that it would never know the warmth of the sun or the mother who carried it.

At least, that was until Charro opened the book. The demon sprung back into reality the moment his scaly hand touched it. Sight and sound fell on it like a meteor, blessing it with an overload of sensations like a virgin's first orgasm. The very first thing it recognized was the face of the orange lizard in front of it. It could only stare at the fellow before he made the mistake of trying to decipher its magical inscription. Then it could reach out with its magical claw to pierce his aura and stiffen his bones. The spirit could do much with him. He could've killed him right then or tortured him with visions of Godly knowledge that would've rendered him mad. Mostly, though, the spirit just wanted to talk.

"Who are you?" asked a voice that rang with the experience of a thousand wisemen. It was deep and smooth like a soothsayer's. In spite of the cruel force in which it held on to Charro, it sounded pleasingly polite. It didn't sound like it came from any direction. Rather it seemed to play inside of Charro's head like a perfectly recalled memory.

A violent chill spazzed down Charro's spine. His giant penis and scrotum shriveled into themselves. No matter how kind the voice may have sounded, hearing it filled his feet with ice water. "I am Charro, a mage and adventurer," he said with his newly granted permission to speak. "I beg of you for mercy. I did not know what I was coming into, O wise spirit."

A chuckle more eerie than Charro had ever heard echoed through his mind. "Spare me the flattery, young lizard. I don't intend on hurting you. Do relax. You're the first friend I've had the pleasure of speaking to in too long. Please, forgive my brash introduction. I simply couldn't let you leave me so soon, you see."

Charro felt the paralysis on his body lax. He stood up and gasped like a swimmer out of the water. "Oh Gods..." he huffed. "Thank you... Thank you..." He was on the brink of tears, he was so relieved to be still alive.

He wasn't out of the woods yet. "What brings you here, Charro?"

"I... I'm an adventurer and mage. I come seeking ancient knowledge and artifacts. I discovered this library and sought to transcribe whatever magical teachings I could find."

"Well?" purred the spirit. "Did you find any?"

Charro felt embarrassed. "Um, a little. You're the most interesting discovery thus far, by a landslide."

Another cute chuckle. "I'd expect no less. Whatever knowledge you may find written in these books pales to whatever I could grant you, young adventurer. I was bound into this book for my powers, they thought me such a threat."

Charro gulped. "If I may, what's your name, spirit?"

"Oh! How rude of me. You have my sincerest apologies." The spirit cleared its throat, purely for dramatic effect, given that it didn't have a throat. "I am B'ezelblub, almighty spirit of forbidden knowledge, keeper of foreign pastries, second disciple of seven to the Greater Lord of Eldritch Gluttony and Greed whom He served, at your service." The spirit spoke those final three words with such flair that Charro could practically see him bowing. "You're the first in eons to open this book since I was first chained to it. I must thank you, young Charro. I am indebted to you."

Charro hardly felt like he deserved such thanks. That title was awfully lengthy and intimidating, even for a spirit. If the demon spoke the truth, then Charro had come across a hell of an entity. He had heard of such conjuring spirits trapped in books, but had never actually come across one. As far as he knew, he didn't even know anybody who had claimed to find or even see one. This was an incredibly lucky find. Even with that terrifying first impression, Charro couldn't help but feel a heavy curiosity egging him on to learn more. When else would he ever have a chance to do so? "So, uh... B'ezelblub, how are you bound to this book?" He gave another good look at the inscriptions, as if he'd totally forgotten what happened last time. "Is this text some kind of spell?"

B'ezelblub went silent. Is he serious? After that long, intimidating introduction, he was still trying to make friends? It wasn't complaining, but it thought he'd be a little wiser and back off. Oh well. With its powers stripped of him since his imprisonment into the book, he could only manipulate the world via a living medium. Charro would have to do. "Yes it is. Crafted by the land's most adept mages, they locked my brothers and I into a series of books so that we could no longer bless the people with our treasures."

"What kind of treasures?"

Had it a face, the spirit would have smiled. "Luxurious desserts and succulent meats the poorest peasants could only have dreamed of. We blessed them with the most exuberant feasts, freeing them from their bondage of labor on the fields. We were a threat to the Lords' control over them, so they had their most adept mages seal us in these books." The spirit sighed. "All we wanted was to bring comfort to those who deserved it. Is that such a sin?"

"No, I don't think so." Charro pictured extravagant banquets rife with foods he had only heard of. His mouth started to water. "Are you able to do it now?"

"Only for those who gaze into this book. Would you like something to eat?"

The bait was cast. Charro swallowed it. "Sure!"

The spirit fought back triumphant laughter. "Alright then. Enjoy yourself." The book started to glow an otherworldly green light as if it had been irradiated. The red ink on its pages became much brighter, illuminating the walls around it even more than Charro's flame did. Suddenly a clawed hand sprung from the book's binding. It was connected to the book by a wavy tower of green mist that hummed and shimmered like a bolt of static electricity. The hand was skeletal and shiny like a neon glow stick. It held itself out with its palm facing up, like it was ready to accept something. Charro made to back away, he was so startled by its sudden appearance. He stopped once he saw something materialize out of the hand's palm. Rising up like a woodchuck from its burrow was a fluffy, corpulent cupcake that was topped by an immaculate swirl of pink frosting. On its summit was the reddest, daintiest cherry Charro ever did see. His eyes, reflecting the mighty glow of the clawed hand, lit up at the sight of it. His stomach instantly started to grumble. More saliva flooded his maw, making him gulp. The last few days of hiking through the forest had worked up a tremendous appetite. His belly demanded fulfillment with a grouchy rumble. Such a tasty display of colorful sweetness could not be denied.

Charro reached out and grabbed it. He suspected that his fingers would phase through it like a hologram, but they stopped once they touched that fluffy little stud. He picked it up. It was heavy with ingredients. The body of it was soft and squishy. It was so perfectly constructed that he almost felt guilty for wanting to eat it. Almost. He crammed the cupcake into his mouth, icing first. The pink frosting smashed against the borders of his lips. He chewed it into a sugary mush, crushing the cherry so that its flavor melded with the rest. His eyes rolled into his head. His mouth was in heaven. It was like a thick cloud of rich, nectarine sweetness had melted on his tongue and welled across his gums. He chewed and chewed until it was nothing but soggy slush in his mouth. He swallowed it whole, leaving nothing behind but a film of pink around his lips. "Guhhh..." he groaned, breathing for the first time.

"Good, wasn't it?" asked B'ezelblub.

"Oh God... Yes..." He sounded like a man wallowing in the afterburn of sex.

"Gooooood~" purred the spirit. "Want some more?"

Charro's eyes lit up. "Yes please."

B'ezelblub didn't say anything else. Another hand extended from the book, holding another cupcake. Charro didn't waste any time admiring its shape and colors before snatching it up and cramming it down his pie hole, downing it after only a few chews. He didn't have to ask for another one. By the time the cupcake was done settling in his gut another one was being offered in front of him. It was gone in seconds, as was the next one, and the next one, and the next one, and the next one... He wasn't getting full at all. He could feel the space in his stomach rapidly shrinking with each oncoming cupcake, but instead of an oppressive stretching that robbed him of his hunger, it only fueled his gluttony like coals thrown into a boiler. He couldn't get them quick enough. Glops of pink icing dribbled down his chin and onto his ascot. He was shoveling into his face one at a time, using both hands. No matter how fast he devoured them, B'ezelblub would have another one waiting for him. It didn't matter how many he ate either. Being Gluttony's most accomplished disciple, it could grant Charro as many cupcakes as his heart desired.

Charro didn't see it, he was too preoccupied, but B'ezelblub's book was beginning to levitate off of the pedestal. The green aura was beginning to grow brighter and brighter. B'ezelblub's hold on the ravenous lizard was tightening with each devoured cupcake. Charro didn't stop to think that his continuously growing hunger was not a message from his body, but rather the influence of a very malignant magic. His body was beginning to swell with fat, chubbying his normally slim face and bloating what had been a flat abdomen. The smooth curve of his already bodacious butt was being robbed by cellulite. His elbows puckered. Wings of flab started to hang off his triceps. He was oblivious to it all, unable to stop the continuous shoving of sweets into his constantly chewing maw.

The rabid feast started to slow only when Charro finally noticed the weight that had settled on him like a giant cloak. He stuffed one, two, three more cupcakes into his frosting-smothered lips until finally he stopped to catch his breath. His jaws were sore and his gut felt like it was carrying an anvil. B'ezelblub held out another one to eat, but Charro mustered what willpower he could to refuse it. A thunderous belch ripped from his mouth, flinging pink flakes of frosting and cake from his mouth. He wiped his forearm across his mouth and noticed how blubbery it had gotten, a sign that he should stop for good. Charro shoved the floating book down onto its pedestal and slammed it closed. The auras vanished, dimming the area around him significantly. "Um... No thanks," he huffed. "I've had enough."

B'ezelblub did not press the matter. The link between them had been solidified to the point of being unbreakable. The fat Charro had accumulated was a vector for its influence, clinging to every muscle and coursing through his nigh-diabetic blood. B'ezelblub spoke, but its normally refined voice was now distant and muffled inside of Charro's head, as if it was mumbling to itself or talking to him from behind a glass. Charro couldn't make what he was saying, but the message was clear all the same. Food. Delicious. Hungry. Tasty. Sweet. Sugar. The temptation was strong. Charro saw himself opening the book again for more of that buffet, rendering himself an immobile slob.

Charro shook that image away, but he could not silence the book. Those persuasive words murmured in the back of his mind, reminding him just how delectable those cupcakes had been. He knew all too well, the aftertaste lingered on the back of his tongue like a burn wound. He hated himself for it, but he wanted more. He was addicted to it now, but he couldn't just let himself go any worse than he already had. In no way could he afford to become the fat beast the book was threatening to make him become, but neither could he resist that delicious dessert for much longer. With sweaty palms, he reopened the book. It did not shoot off the pedestal or explode into a dazzling display of light like he had worried. Instead it stayed where it was, opting to just flare its inscriptions into a bright red.

B'ezelblub spoke, his voice having regained its splendor. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

"No, I'm pretty sure I did. I was about to stuff myself to death."

"I would've stopped before that happened."

Charro had his doubts. "What do you want with me?"

"I thought I told you!" said the spirit, offended. "I merely want to feed you, as is the will of my master."

"That Gluttony guy? Yeah, sounds real trustworthy."

"He is, I assure you. I merely require a host to empower myself and the eldritch lord. With you I can achieve that. All you have to do is consume the delicious foods I provide you. You were enjoying it, weren't you?"

Charro patted his stomach, which was now officially a belly. "Yeah," he admitted. "But I don't want to be some big ball of meat. I want to be able to walk and move around. I want to have control over my actions. If I say no to one of your cupcakes, you gotta put them away."

B'ezelblub could hardly conceal its excitement. "Of course, Charro. You have the freedom to go wherever you please without any hindrance from me. I promise I'll give you every single bit of food your heart desires, be they delectable cupcakes or juicy meats. I can give them all. All I require is that you carry me with you."

Charro's stomach was already starting to rumble. Saliva welled in the back of his throat. "Yeah, that sounds great."

"Then we have a deal?" The skeletal hand reappeared from the pages. It presented no cupcake, but rather an opportunity to shake it.

Charro grasped it. It was deathly cold and rigid. It made the scales across his body shiver. "Deal." He pumped the hand twice, then let go.

The hand vanished. "Splendid~" The book slammed shut on its own, once again going dark. "You can put me in your sack. We can still communicate this way."

Charro picked the book up - it was surprisingly light - and shoved it into his rucksack. Figuring he had had enough of that library and any of its secrets, he turned around and made his way to the exit. The book was buried deep in his bag, out of sight, separated from him by a layer of thick canvas, yet the magic binding them was as though their forms were in direct contact. B'ezelblub granted him full control, but also planted the seed of a very, very destructive hunger. It germinated in the very pit of his gut, spreading out across his entire insides like ivy. His belly roared in protest. A fathomless void materialized inside of him. His mouth was hung open by the time he made it to the doorway. Drool oozed down his chin. He was famished. He needed something to eat, now.

His pudgy body squeezed itself into the doorway. He popped himself through after a few concerted heaves and stumbled awkwardly onto the porch. Back out in the open air, he felt terribly exposed thanks to his newly acquired barrel gut. He didn't think he would have the stamina to carry himself back to town. But there was a more pressing issue currently gripping at his insides. He was still hungry. Looking at the assorted nature around him, majestic trees, patches of grass, chirping birds, and floating clouds, he could see nothing but food. He saw himself tearing the branches off and plucking the leaves with his lips. He tore boulders from the earth and cracked them into bits to munch on the detritus. Birds were snatched from the sky, their nests were pilfered for their eggs. His pudgy digits ripped the blades of grass from their roots. The feral beasts, once rulers of the forest, would have to run from his ravenous onslaught. God, he was so hungry. He gripped his belly, currently vibrating with a steady growl like bubbling acid. He had to eat.

Stepping away from the tomb and out into the sun, he slung his bag off his shoulder, a difficult task thanks to his excessive girth, and hastily pulled out the book. With his mental and physical connection to B'ezelblub, he began to comprehend what those bizarre inscriptions meant. Not only were they the code to its concealment, it was also the collection of all its knowledge, including every recipe for food it knew. While still marching forward, Charro pried the book open, desperate for the spirit's service. Anything. Food, sweets, meat, bark... I don't care. Give me something. The entity obliged. The book lit up like a firework, instantly transforming into a violently bright purple hue that shone like a beacon even in the midst of daylight. Not one, not two, not even three, but several of those malignant hands sprung from the pages like the tentacles of an octopus roused from its cavern. No longer green, a violet just as blinding as the book's painted them each. They elongated into spindles, fanning in all directions. Just like in Charro's vision, they grabbed at every piece of nature they could find. Rocks were torn from the dirt. Branches were brutally ripped from their trunks. Fistfuls of grass were torn free, clouds of dry soil still clinging to their roots. A bird, fleeing from the invasive monstrosity, was snatched from the air. The nest it left behind was promptly stolen.

The arms reeled themselves in one at a time. Charro opened his fat face for their entry. His mouth was stuffed again, now with dry, brittle, sometimes teeth-shattering bits of the forest around him. His jaw closed, but instead of pulverizing his molars on rock, they chomped on divinely soft morsels. Rocks were the fluffiest marshmallows. Branches were crisp food straws. Grass blades were like sour candies. The poor bird and her eggs had become a chocolate so smooth that it had begun to melt the moment it brushed the fiery sigh of his breath. It all went down his gullet in droves. His stomach swelled grotesquely. It converted every cell and fiber into blubber which padded every inch of his body. His golden belly was beginning to overlap his hips. His monstrous penis was getting stuffed between his ever-growing thighs. His neck inflated like a frog's and his cheeks like a chipmunk's. Soon his ass hung so precipitously over his thighs that they looked ready to fall off of him and crash to the earth in a massive plume of dust. His tail flame, though the same size, looked puny on the tip of what had become more stump than tail.

But it wasn't enough. What had been a threat just minutes earlier was now an incentive to eat more. He wanted to be bigger and fatter. He wanted to stretch his orange body to the absolute. He wouldn't stop until he was nothing but a round blob of reptile who simply couldn't move thanks to a pair of legs that were nothing but chubby feet sticking out of a reptilian sphere of fat. Fortunately, he didn't have to worry about that. B'ezelblub stuck to his word and maintained his mobility. Along with his rapid horizontal growth came a few inches to his height. His bones stretched, ensuring that he would maintain at least the smallest semblance to his original shape. Besides, B'ezelblub wouldn't want him to stop for anything, especially not when it had gotten this far.

The smorgasbord continued. Hands sprung from the book and flung back into Charro's mouth rapidly. More hands started appearing. First it was several, then a dozen, then a dozen more. Their elevating power was invested into a more powerful vacuum. No energy was wasted. Charro would grow and grow until every last bit of B'ezelblub's power had been spent. With an infinite forest around them and a town full of people ahead of them, that wasn't going to happen. Now he was a giant, sucking in the forest around him like a planet absorbing debris in space. His height approached some of the trees. His girth bowed them over like grass in a field. He stopped only to pick them up and shoving them right down his throat, tasting not dry bark and harsh wood, but a subway sandwich rife with the finest cuts and crunchiest vegetables. Soon the mightiest predators were made victims. Entire packs of feral wolves scampered away, howling and yelping their terror, only to feel some invisible force grab their bodies and pull them into that horrid cavern of tooth and gum. Mighty bears were devoured, the boars too. If it was there, it was taken. Nothing was spared.

* * *

The village Charro had departed didn't think much of him after he left. The few folk he had interviewed pondered what that lizard had any business doing way out in the wilderness poking his snout where it didn't belong. They quickly forgot about him, however, and went about the rest of their days, worrying more about their jobs and their loved ones. Their routines were rudely halted when a horn blared through the village, rousing everyone from their comfort. A watchman atop the town's east wall had spotted something in the neighboring woods. He saw the canopies shimmering as trees came toppling over. Birds fluttered into the sky to get away for as far as he could see. He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but it looked like the ones nearest to the commotion were falling right back down into it as if being drawn in by some invisible lasso. He alerted his commander, and the horn was sounded. Every guard in the town rushed to the east gate where the event was spotted. They drew their crossbows and manned the murder holes. Vats of tar were lit to a boil. Log jams were thrust into the gate. An entire regiment of men were at the ready, aiming their weapons at whatever approached. They expected anything to come out of those trees: a party of bandits, an invading army equipped with siege engines, some ancient monster set free from the darkest pits of hell. Whatever it was, they braced for it. They'd trained their entire lives for this very moment.

What came first were the feral animals. Rabbits, deer, bears, boars, foxes, and every other critter the forest had to offer came belting out of the woods like bugs squirming out of an overturned log. They ignored the town in front of them, running completely around it and running forward like there was no end in sight, screeching and shrieking their poor little hearts out. Even the bravest of the men manning the walls felt fear stir in their breasts once they saw the proud grizzly go running past them, bawling like a wounded dog. Their sympathies for the woodland creatures were cut short by the sudden whoom of the earth beneath them. Whatever was approaching seemed to make Mother Earth Herself shudder in fear. More trees came crashing down. The sound of their collapse echoed from the forest like thunder. The commander thrust his sword into the air and demanded bravery from his men. They hollered their affirmation and swore to themselves that they would remain stoic. They aimed down the sights of their bows. The beast was coming closer. Throughout their minds echoed the same three words: I am ready.

No matter how ready any of them thought they were, they did not expect anything like what came treading out from the treeline. There was a giant lizard, orange like the fruit and round like one too, dragging its way out of the trees with a pair of very stubby feet. It was horrendously fat, dragging its blubbery folds across the earth like the blanket of a child wandering the halls at night. Its belly was like the moon had floated down from the heavens and made home in the beast's stomach. Its arms stuck out from its shoulders looking more like stumps than limbs. It was tall like the trees it had felled and even wider. It left in its wake a yawning chasm of flattened timber that continued on behind it for an eternity, gradually shrinking until nothing but the darkness of beyond could be seen. Nobody had been trained for this. Nobody could've imagined this, but here it was waddling towards them as inevitably as the sun sets.

Charro hadn't stopped eating since his return to the forest from the crypt. B'ezelblub's hold on him was total, robbing him of any and all cognitive thought. Eat. Eat. Eat. That was all that was left in Charro's mind, and that's all he did. The beauty of nature, something Charro had for so long admired as perfection, was nothing but something for him to munch on without reason or pause. B'ezelblub did everything in its power to fuel his warpath, absorbing everything around him with a power he hadn't enjoyed in far too long. The sight of civilization emboldened the spirit, driving the portly lizard even harder. "There! People!" it hissed in Charro's fat-inebriated mind. "Crush them. Consume them. They are the finest dessert of all! Bring them into your fold and we will know the greatest pleasure~"

"Fooooooooooood," bellowed the beast. Slaver rolled down his multi-tiered chin like a waterfall. He reached out with his stubby little arms and flexed his sausage fingers. He knew nothing other than that he wanted more. More food. More fat. Bigger. Fatter. More. More. More.

The guards did as they were trained. Their hearts pounded behind their breastplates, but they remained firm. Fingers on the triggers, eyes down the sights, they waited for the command to shoot. All they had to do was wait for the beast to get into their range, and they would slay it like the monster it was. Several agonizing seconds passed with the commander shouting for his troops to hold. They did, watching that leviathan blob scrape his way closer and closer to the village. Finally, the cusp of its belly phased into their range, and the commander swung his arm down like an executioner's ax.

"NOW!"

At once there was the resounding twang! of dozens of bolts being shot and arrows being launched. They whizzed through the air like a swarm of swallows, hissing and squealing their death song. They all struck their marks, landing everywhere across Charro's fluffy body in a barrage of thunk-thunks! In an instant his globular belly was a pincushion. He bristled with arrows and bolts, the amount of which was enough to fell an entire company of troops. It did nothing. Charro kept coming, having hardly flinched at the oncoming assault. In fact, there wasn't a single drop of blood to be seen across his leathery skin. That was because none of them had penetrated. In the very last instant before those cast iron tips could puncture his body, B'ezelblub worked its magic. The troops could not see it, but a field of very powerful energy had transformed the oncoming arrows and bolts into harmless globs of very soft, very yummy jelly. They all plapped onto his skin and stuck there as harmfully as suction cup darts. While he still lurched towards the effectively defenseless town, Charro casually scraped off dozens of those quills and stuffed them into his face.

That about did it for the guards morale. The commander ordered them to shoot at will. They did, successfully giving the oncoming beast an ongoing serving of tasty jelly sticks. On average, it was after launching the third projectile at him that the guards broke away from the wall, giving up all hope to save the village. The commander tried to rally, but even he knew it was fruitless to resist. His most prescient fear right then was to save his legacy. He didn't want to be the commander whose unit broke in the face of battle. But he was, and whatever heroics he displayed that day was rewarded by him becoming Charro's first victim. The commander turned around from his routing troops and was greeted by a towering wall of orange. Charro looked down at him, crinkling his flabby neck into an accordion of folds. A fat wad of drool fell from his lips and splatted across the commander's face. He didn't flinch, too terrified to even run. Charro grabbed him like a doll and hoisted him up to his gaping mouth. The commander did not resist. The last thing he saw was a glistening cavern of wet pink, rimmed by two semi-circles of sharp teeth. Charro's mouth closed on his upper half, and he was shoved inside like a twinkie. Charro swallowed him with a mighty gulp, his entry marked by a round bulge floating down Charro's throat and into his belly. The brave commander's last salute to the earth was an ear shattering belch from Charro's lips.

His consumption marked the greatest uptick in B'ezelblub's power. With his first sentient meal in eons, he could now unlock the greatest facet of his power: breaking not only Charro's will, but that of everyone around him. "Gooooooooooooooooooood~" cooed the demon whose influence spread out from the lizard like a million tentacles reaching out of some Plutonian fissure. "More. I want more. Bring me MORE."

"Fooooooooooood." Charro reached his hands out and moved forward. The tall stone walls protecting the village were old, but well built. They had weathered countless storms and were specifically built to withstand even the most powerful siege engines. In front of Charro, they may as well have been made of popsicle sticks. The front gate and the many logs holding it closed were fractured into a shower of splinters, spewing their pine shrapnel in every direction. The gate bowed and creaked until finally it burst apart like a cracker, letting in Charro's exorbitant paunch. His belly continued to squeeze itself through, cracking the stone arch around it until it too blasted apart into a plume of dust and discarded pebbles. Without any more obstruction, Charro began his death march into the village.

Ever since Charro's appearance out of the forest, many of the townsfolk started their evacuation. Carriages were bundled with valuables and wares. Horses were hitched and whipped into a frenzy. A very fortunate few made it out before he burst through the gate. The rest were doomed. B'ezelblub sent forth a malignant siren's call that fell on the ears of everyone still trapped inside. Like a crying infant soothed by their mother's purr, the panic stopped. Crowded around the nearest exit, they all did an about face. They saw the morbidly obese lizard lurch his way into the center of the town, gobbling up sign posts and other decorations his grubby hands could get on. B'ezelblub no longer bothered with grabbing onto inanimate objects, or even whatever nature was around them. He was after a far bigger prize, one that would expand his already divine power into something omnipotent.

His invisible arms reached out to the town's residents. He did not grab them, but rather caressed their delicate chins and beckoned them towards their chubby invader. None of them had the fortitude to resist, not when what they were seeing was no longer a monster, but a God sent to earth, worthy of their worship. Charro's converts flocked to him like chickens to the trough. The same troops who had fired their weapons dropped them in favor of offering themselves to their new reptilian deity. Charro was in the town square where they all converged on him. They shed their clothes from their breasts, exposing their nudity for his majesty's consumption. What objects they carried with him was purely for his consumption. A delighted smile crept across Charro's face. "Foooood!"

Food indeed. Once they were close, B'ezelblub's tendril snatched them up by their midriffs and floated them to Charro's maw. At once their flesh and whatever clothes were still attached to them became a food so succulent like warm molasses. They quite literally melted in his mouth, running down his gullet and joining the legion that was his fat ass. People who had lived entire lives saw it end going down the greedy mouth of such a beautiful creature. They knew no better joy than to become part of him. A crowd formed around him, begging to be next. They jumped and screamed. Charro hardly noticed them. B'ezelblub's claws were busy at work, yoinking up every citizen and turning them into the most delicious snacks. Flesh became gingerbread. Cloth became cotton candy. Leather became bubble gum. Steel became pie crust. Charro munched, crunched, and chewed through it all, gleefully sucking them down into his gurgling tummy and assimilating them into his folds.

The shouts of glee from having one's turn along with the continual beg to be next started to become quiet. Soon there were only a dozen left, then half that, then 5, then four, then three, then two, then one, then... The sound of revelry died with the last man, cut off by the resolute shutting of Charro's jaws. He gulped, and the man became one with him, just like the rest. Charro opened his eyes. He had bloated frighteningly since his entry into the town. The last half hour had been a boisterous celebration. Now it was over. A very eerie silence was all that remained. He looked around the square. At his feet, scattered wildly across the cobblestone streets were articles of clothing. There was a tunic, then some pants. A boot sat upright with just its neck sagging to the side. Charro didn't see its twin. He frowned. "Where did everybody go?" he asked.

"They're with us now~" the demon purred, masturbating in its own decadence.

Charro looked down at his gut. It was like looking down at the earth from a great height and making out its curvature. He patted it. "In my tummy?"

"Yes~ and everywhere else too. They are ours, and we are theirs. Our bond is eternal. You can feel them, can't you?"

Charro didn't register it at first, but he thought he could feel the polite chatter and laughter of a hundred souls inside of him, each one jiggling with glee. "Yeah... I can."

He wouldn't tell the spirit that he kind of liked it, but he didn't need to. B'ezelblub knew that he did. "There is more out there, isn't there?"

Charro looked forward, out into the horizon. His height was so incredible that he could now look out above the trees and even the church spire nearby. He looked out to the west. He couldn't see it, but far beyond was the capital of the empire. Between him and it were dozens of other small villages just like the one he had just wiped out. The image of the king sitting on his throne filled him with a sudden jealousy. The king was a portly slob, a man who built himself on too many great banquets. The king was fat, but what was he to Charro? Charro was a God. He deserved to be on that throne. It was his name that should be heralded in epic poems and songs. Banners should be flown in his name. The empire was his, and he was about to prove it. "I wanna..." He gulped. "I wanna eat the king..."

B'ezelblub liked the sounds of that. "Excellent! Then let's go. Let's show that dastardly tyrant who truly rules this empire~"

And so Charro went, leaving that barren village behind to create more. The very fortunate few who had managed to escape dispersed erratically, failing to make it to any other village before his inevitable arrival to the next one. He was greeted the same each and every time. The guards met him with their projectiles, only to have them stick to his pudgy frame and be gobbled up. The walls would fall, and the majority of the population would scramble to his lardaciousness in order to satiate him of his infinite hunger. Down into his belly they would go, expanding him more and more. He would leave a village, find another, decimate it, leave, find another, decimate it, leave, and repeat. By the time the emperor had finally gotten word of the impending monster, Charro had laid waste to half a dozen towns, finally achieving the absolute zenith of colossus. His head did not tower, but soared above the treetops. He had become a roaming mountain that could be seen for leagues. His march towards the capitol was slow but unstoppable. The sea of trees before him tumbled effortlessly. The wildlife scattered for safety, but in spite of his hunger, they were in no danger. B'ezelblub's ambition was the king and his empire. With such a magnificent hunger goading them both on, nothing but that would quell his gluttony. Two days passed with Charro trekking through the woods until finally the capital city breached the far horizon. "Foooood." His pace quickened. It was so, so close. He could already taste the king's flesh melting across his tongue. He wondered what the crown jewels tasted like.

The king did not intend on letting him know so easily. The king's army was mobilized quickly and made camp outside of the city walls. Scouts had left to determine how close the monster was. They did not come back, confirming that he was indeed on the approach. Finally the beast peaked over the horizon and breached the treeline just outside the city limits. The city was the most spectacular in the empire, pitted in its very center, at the conjoining of two major rivers. The land rolled into wind-swept hills where the peasants sowed and harvested their grain. The suburbs sprawled around the city walls like an entire lake of rooftops, but they were totally empty now. The king ordered an evacuation into the walls. From what he had heard already, too many villages had been made barren by the beast's arrival.

The only hope of stopping him was the army between him and the mighty city. They formed into their units, separated into divisions and regiments whose banners whipped in the wind proudly. The infantry were packed into tight legions, looking like the squares on a chess board. The cavalry were at their flanks, horses snorting with growing agitation as the lizard loomed close. Trebuchets armed with boulders were at the rear, primed and ready to launch. The general, decked in heavy armor, roused his troops with a triumphant speech. They listened, but the oncoming fumble of the monster proved distracting. Like so many brave men before thim, they vowed to stay resolute in the face of such danger. They would, for at least as long as B'ezelblub would let them.

The king watched from his chambers, high in his castle where he was currently safe from the monster. The window in front of him was made of stained glass. Only a small pane of yellow was clear enough for him to see through. The beast was tremendous, he could tell. It approached his army with a menacing, if waddled, gait. He chewed his claws and fidgeted at his gown. The crown on his head was feeling very, very heavy. The vanguard of his army charged. The ranks floated towards the feet of the giant slowly, at least by his perspective. He was certain that every man on that field was running as fast as they could, roaring their big, brave hearts out. The king's meanwhile, was thumping away like mad. It hit an apex once the first line of soldiers reached the monster's feet.

He watched with some fleeting hope when some of the men began scaling the beast's legs and reached his belly. It came to a stop, a very good sign. He imagined their swords and pikes stabbing into its scaly facade, bleeding it out like a pig. They swarmed his body like ants, rising closer and closer to its flabby neck. There they would deal the death blow, slicing open its carotid and watching it topple over with a fountain of crimson spewing into the air at a beautiful arc. He felt some concern for the men who would be crushed, but their sacrifice would not be in vain. The men scaling Charro reached his neck. The king anticipated the death blow, but it did not come. They kept crawling upwards past his neck and onto his chin. What were they doing? What strategy had his general concocted?

Why did it look like the men were deliberately crawling into the monster's mouth?

B'ezelblub's siren song pierced the hearts of them all, swaying their allegiency away from their craven king and firmly towards their new God. Like what had happened so many times before, they clamored for expiation, clawing their way up his flabs to reach the coffin that was his mouth. They funneled into his mouth like sand. They slid down his tongue and dissolved into pebbles of sugar. Their weapons had long been abandoned. The flashy armors they had spent so many years polishing and maintaining were reduced to crumbly graham crackers which disintegrated along with the men who wore them. The cavalry swooped in to extricate them, only to fall victim to the demon's persuasion. There horses were spared and scurried off into the distance, tails and manes flapping.

The artillery, the only ones not intoxicated with newfound zealotry, flung their boulders into the air at the beast. Hope fluttered in the king's heart, only to explode into a poof of white powder, much like the giant donut balls did once they collided with Charro's belly. Finally registering that it was all hopeless, the artillerymen routed. Everyone else, the eloquent general included, stayed around the reptilian chapel and offered their bodies for sacrifice. The king watched as the last man vanished. All that remained of the greatest army in the world were discarded banners and swords that had never even left their sheathes. The trebuchets stood alone at their posts, never to be manned again. The king's arms slumped at his sides. It was over. He was dead. His empire, the one bestowed onto him by his many-great grandfathers, was doomed.

His misery was struck into bone-chilling dread when he saw Charro's face lurk upwards and stare at the city ahead. It was like he had sensed the king's gaze and met it with blood-boiling wrath. Charro waddled over the battlefield's (if it can be called that) debris, towards the city walls. The houses beneath him crumbled into dust. The people cowering within the gates felt the earth tremble beneath them, signaling their incoming deaths. Charro made it to the walls. He had reached such terrific heights that he no longer had to tear through them like some sandcastle. With an impressive display of athleticism, at least for someone so goddamn fat, he kicked his chubby leg over the wall and stepped over it like somebody walking over an exposed tree root. With his dramatic entry, the entire city fell under B'ezelblub's influence. Cries of terror switched to cheers of victory. The people swarmed him as bravely as their protectors had just done, ready to make the climb for his mouth.

Only this time Charro did not stop for them. With a determined scowl locked on his portly face, he made a beeline for the castle. It was tall and proud at the city's center, reaching a height no other building in the world achieved. Even so, it only came up to Charro's chest, looking more like a playset to him. The king backed away from the window. He knew he had to run, but something invisible paralyzed his legs. With trembling legs he watched as the beast grew ever larger, finally dwarfing the castle and blocking the king's view of everything outside.

CRASH!

The painted window burst open. A giant chubby hand reached inside and closed around his majesty. The king, in his final moments, was no longer the cowardly tyrant whose throne sat on the foundation of blood. As his body was gripped by that pudgy baby hand, he was Charro's most devout follower, ready to feel the eternal joy of having his body become one with the horde. He was flung through the air, into Charro's mouth. He chewed on the tiny morsel twice, then swallowed. The crown tasted like caramel.

Now the empire was his. The king and his army was currently gurgling inside of his tummy, accumulating across his body alongside the thousands of other denizens he had devoured. Charro burped, sounding off his victory like a roar of thunder. The people cheered for him. He did an awkward turn around, bent over, and plopped his fat ass onto the castle, claiming it as his throne. He looked over the city, his city. He could hear the cries of devotion around his pudgy toes which he wiggled playfully. The lizard felt content. He was happy.

So was the book that he had found only days earlier, floating behind his head like a bug, tiny and inconspicuous. Its freedom from that dreaded void was everything it had ever hoped for. The mightiest empire was at its bidding. It had the most gluttonous creature that ever roamed the earth at its command. It had solidified itself as the most successful disciple its lord had ever recruited. It decided that those many years as a featureless prisoner were at last worth it. But it wasn't done. It beckoned the city's people to climb their god's belly and pile into his mouth. There were more cities in the world, and nations too. B'ezelblub wanted them all, but to get them, Charro would have to become bigger, bigger, bigger...

Bigger~

THE END