The gala was ostensibly a show of making connections under the veneer of a charity event - where Heroes could bump shoulders with the high and mighty from all echelons of society in the hope of picking up a sponsor or three, where talents could be scouted and allegiances made, all under the guise of those at the top deigning to drop a few scraps to the proles beneath them. But anyone who was anyone in attendance across the vast hall knew damn well what the real point behind the event was.On the

Even when it wasn’t being occupied by the monarch that it was built to seat, the Great Throne was an imposing construction in its own right. Rather than wood or precious metals, it was carved from a single enormous pillar of marble, set firmly upon the engraved floor of the throne room but rising above all who came to parley with the king who sat in it. The low-set seat alone was wider across than a couch meant to seat five people and piled with cushions the size of mattresses, while two grown

Logically, Jirou knew that she had to act, to do something about the impossible sight taking place before her very eyes. Logically, she knew that she had to put a stop to this lest she lose one or both of her classmates and fellow Heroes. And yet the sonic heroine couldn’t move so much as a muscle, couldn’t find the willpower within herself to do anything but simply stare like a frog transfixed by the beam of a flashlight as she merely bore witness to the mind-boggling feat of gluttony befor

The Purple Empress’ hulking form loomed behind the rank and file of Her subjects’ legions like a mountain range of earth-shattering brawn and wobbling orchid flesh. Each of Her massive strides sent a tremor through the earth with a boom louder than any war drum that rang out even over the unearthly scraping of Her colossal war-club against the ground as She dragged it behind Her… although really, calling it that was something of an understatement. The thing was originally a vast stone colu

Even at its most peaceful (for what little that meant in such a nightmarish place), Warnado was never quiet - the screeching and flapping of Gremwings, the rumble and groan of ancient mega-machines, the whoosh of wind under dragons’ wings, the voices of Dramen, Gangryn’s screams when one of his inventions went wrong and Dreadwing’s resulting howl of fury. And now, a new noise had joined the constant cacophony - the churn and gurgle of a glutted gut roaring out for more prey.“Mmmnph, so m

Jersey, Kiva decided as she munched on a hoagie, wasn’t quite as bad as she had initially assumed. The atmosphere was smoggy, trash was everywhere, it was rare to get a minute’s peace of mind with the constant traffic, and the people were loud and obnoxious… but truthfully, it wasn’t too different from the struggling cities of her time. Here at least, there were still some trees left, the sky wasn’t quite as fogged with smog as it would be in a few centuries, and there wasn’t much co

Miia’s amber eyes were practically as wide as saucers as she stared up and up and up at her beloved with nothing short of pure unabashed lust; her serpentine tail was clenched into a tight knot of crushing coils, the tip of her tail whap-whap-whapping at the cushioned floor in maddened excitement. A string of drool trickled from the corner of her mouth, her face as red as roses - was this what it was like to be warm-blooded, this burning, maddening need that suffused her being down to her very

The Lord of Lust let out a low, deep rumble of satisfaction as He sat back on His vast throne; a vast lavish thing more like a vast low-set couch with how wide and padded it was. It had to be in order to contain Minoru's immense form - as befitting a god, He towered above mortal men at an enormous 12 feet tall, and was likely just as wide around. Virtually every inch of His gargantuan frame was padded out with layer upon layer of thick dense fat, from His rounded face and multiple chins that all

Momo Yaoyorozu’s towering form cast almost her entire side of the arena beneath her enormous shadow, the heroine looming over her opponent like a mountain made flesh as a determined frown marred her lovely face. Almost three meters tall and tipping the scales at over sixteen hundred pounds, she had taken the lessons of her mentor Fatgum to heart in order to maximize the power of her Quirk, growing into a behemoth of a babe.


Her rotund chubby cheeks and

The Hero’s Bath was Circhester’s pride and joy, a historical relic and landmark that had in recent years been upgraded to become an amenity for all - namely, by converting the structure into an onsen, where people from all across Galar could come and let their worries fade away in the steaming water of the historic spring where legendary heroes had once sought to soothe their own aches and pains. It was a little piece of paradise in this snowy little village… well, as little a