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A slender mage controls such force.

His magic flows; his skill excels!

Another mage outweighs a horse.

She wins the crowd with stunning spells.

The village of Zauberei laid to the south, as it does today. But, in those days, it was rustic. Dirt roads paved the way between small houses of clay bricks. Early spring breezes carried mild temperatures and fresh, grassy fragrance.

There was no fountain in the town square in that time. Instead, it was a bare clearing of dirt. There, they held festivities. One of the most popular festivities, the annual flower blooming competition, drew the most talented mages of the village. Each mage was assigned a small plot at the center of the town square.

As the competition narrowed to the two most elite mages, the morning aged towards noon. Already, a host of colorful flowers littered the area.

A tall, slender kobold with shining, red scales stood near his plot, at some distance from his captivated audience. He chanted under his breath and held his hands close to his chest. He reached down, and his hands glowed with an ethereal blue mist. With strain in his breath, he drew his hands upward.

The plot before him rumbled, and dirt sputtered. In a dazzling show of conjuration, an enormous rosebud burst from the ground, throwing dirt onto him. The bud, about half of his height, grew atop a thick, thorny stem. Once the bud met his hands' height, its petals opened in a brilliant bloom.

His arms fell to his sides, and he panted.

The crowd clapped.

He bowed, taking time to face the crowd on all sides of the square and bow to each.

Kiera stood by the other competitors, clapping as well. She was not performing that day, though. The kobold mage was still in training.

She sported a dainty figure with dusty orange scales. Her snout was short, slender, and pointed; her cheek bones were well defined; and atop her head were two horns, cute and stubby. Her neck was long and elegant, leading down to two slim shoulders and a slightly curved bust. She wore a white shawl over her shoulders and arms, while her top was a tough, brown leather that bore her midriff. Her abs were lean, covered in light, yellow scales that she could bounce a GP off of. She wore a skimpy piece of brown leather on her pelvis that draped low, covering only the space between her legs. Her wide hips flared outward, bare, and her legs tapered down to thin ankles. She stood on her toes, and her feet had lengthy arches with heels propped several inches above the ground. Her toes were small with short, groomed claws. Her long tail was thick at its base and thin at its end.

She clapped as she watched the performing mage take his bows.

The competition's host approached the mage. The host, a blue kobold in a white vest, took the mage's hand and shook it, and the audience's clapping died down. "Incredible performance! I can tell everyone loved it. I've never seen a bulb so big! Now, without further ado, we have one last entrant: Madame Arche Emberhorn!" He gestured to the kobold next to Kiera.

Right beside Kiera was Madame Arche Emberhorn, her magister. Where Kiera was the vision of a well-tuned mage's body, the Madame was bloated with obesity, looking more the part of a lazy barmaid. She sat in a chair with wheels, and her pale, brown scales overflowed its confines. A sheet of ruffled wax paper nestled in her bosom with a big batch of palm-sized snacks called marzipankartoffeln.

Emberhorn's face was piled thick with blubber. Her cheeks puffed up to her eyes, her chin had swallowed up her neck in pudge, and even her snout looked puffy. The only things that weren't fat were her horns.

Her breasts were each much larger than her head. They sat in a white cloth top which was adorned with various mystic crystals. They were meaty orbs of flesh, each plumping far above the bounds of her top and crashing into folds against her chest. They provided quite an accommodating rack for her snack.

Her top ended in sheer ruffles, which draped over a mere fraction of Emberhorn's stomach. This colossal globe of corpulence smothered her lap, flowed above each arm of the chair, and rolled over her legs, right down to her ankles. She rested her pillowy arms on her gut's massive shelf.

While her stomach poured over the arms of the chair, her thighs gushed under them, squeezing out in the opening between each armrest and the seat below. The dimpled girth of her upper legs pursed in creases against the tight fit of the chair.

Emberhorn grabbed a handful of marzipankartoffeln and popped them in her mouth, filling her flabby cheeks. She raised her hands over her plump chest and dusted her hands off, wagging her bulbous forearms in the process. Then, she held her arms out to her sides, as if preparing to snatch her own hips. Her fingers curled and unfurled, playing at invisible threads. In response, the wheels of her chair turned, propelling the pudgy performer. She rode over the flat dirt, and her stomach bobbed from the motion. All the while, she chewed. When she reached her plot, beside the host, she stopped chewing and swallowed.

The host and the other mage returned to the crowd, giving Emberhorn room to work.

Overlooking an empty plot of dirt, Emberhorn grabbed both sides of her stomach. Her stomach glowed a sky blue, and the fat along her body jiggled in short, fast vibrations. The marzipankartoffeln on her chest hopped as her wide, heavy breasts jostled. Suddenly, her plot erupted, overflowing with roses.

The crowd clapped politely. The volume of roses was impressive, for sure, but it was hardly the most dazzling wonder performed that day.

Emberhorn wasn't done, though. With her claws digging deep into her belly fat, her stomach gleamed green. Now, her stomach raised upward and waved slowly, audibly plapping its fat against her lap. Her breasts wobbled atop it, and her marzipankartoffeln surfed on her undulating pudge.

The roses continued growing upward. Some stopped short, while others lengthened too far. The display became disorderly and uneven. A long, flat portion of flowers hung towards the bottom, while a contingent propped up high in an arch. Another group leaned out to the side, fanning with a sharp bent downward.

The crowd watched in silence.

Kiera felt sickening panic in the pit of her gut. It was embarrassing to see her teacher make such a strange mess in front of the whole town.

But she started to see patterns in the unruly roses. At the top, she saw a horn-looking patch of flowers, and down bottom, it looked like a jaw, and out to the side, she could swear it reminded her of a snout.

Emberhorn's stomach flopped back down in a meaty clap, dispelling its green light.

She had enchanted the flowers' growth, coaxing them into an arrangement. They painted a big, winking kobold face, larger than Emberhorn's own gut.

The crowd was stunned.

Kiera laughed in relief. A cheer shot from her lungs, and her arms couldn't help but clap. She was uncontrollably elated at the performance.

Soon, the crowd joined her, clapping loudest of all for Emberhorn.

The tubby teacher lowered one hand to her side. She strummed the air, magically spinning a wheel of her chair, so that she could turn to face the crowd. She put her other arm atop her chest, securing the wax paper with her snack. Then, she shifted forward in her chair. She couldn't bow, technically speaking, but she did dip her underbelly to the ground. She also lowered her snout, squashing her neck fat. She sought to emulate a bow.

Next to Kiera, a gritty-voiced kobold chatted while clapping. "You think she actually believes what she says about her weight?"

Another kobold snickered. "There is no way she genuinely thinks that her fat makes her magic more powerful. No, she just wants to save face. It's easier to lie than to admit she's a big, fat glutton."

"Then why doesn't anyone call her out on it?"

"Are you kidding? She's a heap of blubber, sure, but she's still the best mage in town. If anyone said anything negative about her fat, she'd turn them inside out with a flick of her chunky wrist."

They snorted laughs together.

At the center of the square, the host kobold joined Emberhorn. While the crowd clapped on, he took her hand and raised it. "I think we have a winner!!"

Emberhorn smiled proudly.

In time, the applause died down. Some of the crowd gathered to admire the performers' supernatural gardens, while others dispersed to go about their day.

Emberhorn willed her wheelchair away, towards her home.

Kiera approached her. "Mistress, that was amazing!"

Emberhorn gobbled another treat, responding mid-chew. "I fought you'd wike it."

"To put it modestly, yes! I admire your skills."

Emberhorn looked askance. "Just not my methods, eh?"

Kiera stammered. "No, it's not that, it's just--any other mage will tell you that fat dampens the effects of spells, whether on the subject or on the object. You are skilled above all, but even you cannot deny the facts."

"Tsk tsk tsk. Such a limited view of adipose tissue. If you feel that way, then I have nothing more to teach. You know the fundamentals of casting. Yet you refuse to reach for mastery."

Kiera raised her paws in frustration. "What, are you serious? There's got to be more to learn. It's not really...?"

Emberhorn stopped, and so did Kiera. The wide teacher looked into her eyes. "You're a cunning woman, Kiera. A little headstrong, perhaps, but we both share that ailment. Here is what I think will do you best: go to Altilisium. Bear in mind my teachings that you shun. And keep an open mind."

"Really? You think it's time I set off on my own?"

"I can't teach sense into you, but you may find it on your own."

Kiera resolved to leave for the bustling city in pursuit of magical mastery.

One more adventurer weaves into this ongoing tale, and your introduction to her will be a sorry story of unrequited affection. But that is for another time.