Pram, the oracle overlord, slowly began to open her eyes, the scenery blurry and entirely indistinguishable.  Even with her vision weak she had a feeling that these surroundings were quite unfamiliar..

“What?”  She muttered, her voice cracking pitifully as she yawned, her body seemingly seated in a rather uncomfortable dining chair rather than laying in her cushy bed as it was when she went to bed.  “This isn't my bed?”  She growled, her long snow white hair pooling on the back of her chair as she tried to lift her hands up.

“Don't you even try!”  Pram's vision continued improving as her eyes adjusted to the bizarre light of the room.  She was seated in front of an enormous banquet table, with overfull platters competing for space on its well kept wood surface.  On top of a large dish sat a Corn Guy, a maize mage with a husk for a cloak and a common member of Zetta's demonic army, waggling a finger at Pram as she tugged vainly at her shackles.  “We're not letting you get out this easily!”  

“We're as mad as hell and we're not going to take it!”  An Apple Kid, a fruit headed wizard sitting next to an oversized sixteen inch apple pie, cried out.

“Us minions always get screwed over,” snarled a Pump Kin, resting on a pitch fork stabbed in the side of a juicy, fatty orcish ham, the gourd faced scarecrow shaking his head at Pram.

“And that's why we're gonna take it out on you,” the Carrot Dude, the last of the produce quartet, declared, mockling

“On me?”  Pram gasped, thrashing her arms around and shaking her shackles.  “I ought to ice you all!  Don't you know a mage doesn't need to be able to move their arms to cast a spell?”

“Try it,”  the Corn Guy said, idly stirring his finger in a pot of soup.  “There's perma silence on your side in this battle field.  No magic, no special skills.”  

“But we can do whatever we want,”  Apple Kid cackled.

“Well, why the hell am I involved with this?  What did I do?”  She yelled, begrudgingly leaning back in the chair, her bulbous dress pressing against its sides as she idly tapped her fingers on its arms.  “Are you trying to get me to buy organic fruits and vegetables?”  She scoffed.

“Oh, you're not the only one involved.”  The Pump Kin pointed to Pram's left and right.  “We're not dumb!”  Pram raised an eyebrow and glanced to her right, following Pump Kin's directions.

“Well, isn't it just bizarre that we're running into each other like this?”  The tall, voluptuous lover of Overlord Zetta clad in her very revealing outfit smiled and lightly waved her hand, even with it bound to her chair by the mystical shackle, trying to lighten the grave situation.

“Salome?”  Pram gasped, nearly forgetting she was stuck in her chair, recoiled, to see the lover of such a powerful overlord caught so unceremoniously.  “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you, Overlord Pram,”  she succinctly replied.  “Isn't this a bizarre coincidence?”

“I'll say!”  Pram gulped.  “These guys must have guts if they're kidnapping her,”  she muttered to herself, sinking into her chair as she dug her fingers into the chair.  “Don't they know her relationship with Zetta?  Don't they know Zetta could probably slice and dice them just by looking at them?”  As she pondered the bizarre situation the corners of her mouth began to raise.  “But that's right!  Zetta's not going to be happy once he finds out his wife's missing!  And he's going to hunt these jerks down, fry them, and free me in the process!  Why was I even worrying?  Any minute now he'll realize his wife is gone and he'll be on the war path!”  She was now grinning smugly.

-

“Dear Zetta.  Gone to store.  Buying vegetables.  Don't worry.  I'll be back soon.  Salome.”  Zetta inspected the tiny, tattered scrap of line paper sitting at the foot of his chair.  “Did we even need vegetables?  And does she really need to go to the store?  I mean, don't we have evil minions to do that kinda junk for us?  And her handwriting is sure looking crappy today.”  Zetta grunted lazily and tossed the piece of paper over his shoulder, snapping his fingers as a white hot flame ate it and reduced it to vapors.  

“Well, that's no skin off my back.  I've got better things to do!” Zetta laughed and spun around, his substantial red mane following him like a comet's trail.  “I needed her off my back anyway! Today is a man's day!”  He fell onto his throne, sprawling out as two swordsmen lugged an enormous flat screen television into Zetta's throne room, sitting it the perfect distance from their master for maximum viewing pleasure.

“Oh man, this is going to be awesome.”  Zetta said as a minion handed him the remote, before accompanying his comrade out of the throne room.  “HD, DVD, DVR, this thing has so many D's I don't even know what to do!  But that's what makes it awesome!  And I got it in, just in time for the Universal Gladitorial Blood Bowl.  Not only that, but Salome's out shopping too!  This is amazing!”  He laughed, spinning the remote in his hand.  “Now I just have to wait for the other guests to get here.  Valvoga's supposed to be bringing some snacks and Asshat's gonna supply the booze.”  Normally Zetta wouldn't want anything to do with the Overlord of Destruction, but with Alex, or Asshat as he preferred to call him, offering gifts of beer just to watch the game on Zetta's new TV, he was willing to make an exception.  

“It's a shame Babylon had to go get his cataracts checked, I'm sure he'd want to see this game too.”  Zetta shrugged his shoulders.  “Sucks to be him, I guess,”  he said as he hit the power button on the remote.  “I guess I can get a little test run of this baby before the others get here.”  Zetta watched with anticipation as the TV flickered on.  “Come on, let's get this started!”  He said, leaning forward as a group of pixelated numbers appeared on the screen.  “Wait, what?”  Zetta stood up.  “Please enter the serial number found on the box?  What kind of crap is that?  I already threw out that damn box!”  Zetta trembled and fell to his knees.  “Salome!  Pram!  Anyone! Help!”  He cried out.

-

“Yeah, I've got no reason to worry with Zetta on the case,”  Pram snickered to herself.

“Huh?  Pram, whatcha talking to yourself for?”  Pram nearly jumped from her seat upon hearing the voice from her left, quickly yanked back down onto her butt by the tight restraints.

“Wait, what?  You can't be serious?”  She quickly turned her head again to see the familiar long turquoise locks cascading down each side of a matching chair, the girl sitting surprisingly still and looking quite pleasant despite having been kidnapped by the foody foursome.  “How is this possible?”  She gasped.

“What do you mean?  I'm not allowed to be kidnapped too?”  Trenia asked innocently, twiddling her fingers as she pondered Pram's question.  

“No, you're not, unless someone is trying to cause some cosmic meltdown!”  Pram replied.  “Aren't you supposed to be in the Sacred Tome?  Don't you belong there?”

“Don't worry, I've got someone house sitting for me!” Trenia winked back at Pram.

“Wait, how does that even work?”  Pram asked.  For Trenia to leave the Sacred Tome someone else would have to bond their soul in her place, which Pram could imagine very few doing after Zetta's try.  “Don't tell me Zetta is stuck in the Sacred Tome again!” Pram groaned and sunk into her chair, aware that if Zetta was bound to the Sacred Tome once again that she would have to scheme up another escape plan.  Her fingers twitched and shook as her nails began to dig into the arms.

“Nope, not Zetta!  I found someone else to take my place instead!”  Trenia giggled, clicking her heels together as she began to hum a tune to herself.

“You found someone else?”  Pram asked, bewildered.  “Who'd be dumb enough to do that?”

“Hey, you three!  Shuddap!”  Corn Guy, the leader of the captors, yelled.  “Don't forget about us!  We brought you three here for a very important reason?”

“And what's that?”  Salome asked, leaning back calmly in her chair as she addressed the vegetable vagabond standing on the table.   “I'm afraid I haven't the slightest idea who you are or what you would want with us!”

“Oh, we're not after you,”  Pump Kin scoffed, leaning against an enormous minotaur steak.  “We've brought you here today because of Zetta!”

“Why us?”  Pram shouted.  

“We're just a bunch of low level minions,”  The Apple Kid lamented, shaking his head.  “Forgotten at the end of the game and left to rot in the reserves while the Warriors and Soldiers got to fight all of the final battles.”

“Just because we don't have the best stats doesn't mean we gotta sit on the sidelines while everyone else gets to have the real fun.”  Carrot Dude shook his head. “That's not cool, man.”

“We helped Zetta through all the  levels!  We got him through the meat and potatoes of the game, and we don't get any respect!  We just got stuffed aside for all the bonus characters once he hits the post game!”  Corn Guy grunted and shook his head.  “We're just pawns, I tell you!  But we're mad as hell and we're not going to take it any more!”

“That's nice and wonderful, dear,”  Salome started, “but if your issue is with Zetta then what do you need from us?  I can understand why you might go after me, but their relationships with Zetta are far looser.”

“You heard her!  Why did you drag us into this because of your stupid grudge?”  Pram protested, slamming her fists down on the chair's arms.  “If you can't tell by looking at us, we aren't Zetta!”

“We might be some stubborn sprouts, but we ain't stupid!”  Pump Kin shot back.  “Zetta could kick our sorry asses without even looking at us!  We're small fries in his eyes!”

“Maybe that's why he gave up on you guys!”  Trenia cheerfully suggested.

“Instead of aiming for the top, we decided to aim for the middle!  We kidnapped you and now we're holding you ransom!  We're gonna show Zetta how hearty we are!”  Corn Guy declared, raising his arms to the sky.  “But since I'm sure Zetta is so busy with his top minions that it might take him a while to get here.  Because of that we're going to have a little fun to pass the time!  Isn't that right, boys?”  

“Yup, we sure are!”  Apple Kid said, enthusiastically, walking towards Pram.  “We got the best idea ever from this month's volume of The Krafty Kidnapper!”  He picked up a glossy magazine from the table and flung it onto Pram's plate.  Pram groaned as she started to read it's cover.

“Entertain your victim by feeding them until their stomach can take no more?”  Pram read out loud, her voice growing in volume and panic, yelling out the last few words.  “What the hell?”

“Oh dear,”  Salome sighed.  “This isn't going to be good for my diet at all,”  She said with a frown.  “Though I'm not understanding why feeding us until we burst would get any reaction from Zetta other than confusion.”

“You three aren't clean either,” Carrot Dude growled.  “Did we get our names in lights?  No!  We barely even got any pages in the art book, but you three are all over the promotional materials!  It's not fair!”  

“I think people would rather buy a game with cute girls on the cover than vegetables, you know!”  Pram yelled, not liking the direction their evil plan would take her figure.”

“What if they're vegetarians?” Trenia asked, giggling from her own joke.

“I'm still not getting what any of that has to do with stuffing us full of food until we pop!”  Pram yelled.

“We're food,”  Apple Kid shrugged his shoulders. “It seemed kinda appropriate when we were planning it.”

“This is stupid!”  Pram yelled, slamming her shackles against the chair.  “Once I get these things off I'm going to kill all of you!”

“Nope, that's not how it works.  The second you get these things off our spell takes control,”  Pump Kn guffawed, stepping off his poultry throne, a  full grown glazed cockatrice, and sitting at the table side, feet dangling off and kicking playfully at the side.

“Those cuffs come off and you'll be too busy stuffing yourself to even think about escaping,”  Carrot Dude continued.  “It's a little spell an anonymous benefactor gave to us just for a situation like this!”

“Who the hell plans for something like this!  This is the worst evil plot ever!  It makes kidnapping a princess seem like orchestrating the end of the universe! And once I get these off my hands I'm going to wring your neck until carrot juice pops out!”  Pram lunged forward, the chains to her restraints crumbling at Corn Guy's command.  Pram was poised to tackle Carrot Dude but instead her assault stopped just short, Pram's hands falling straight down and digging into a bowl of fruit loaded gelatin and grasping handfuls of the  candied treats suspended in the whip-cream topped dessert.

“Oh dear,”  Salome vocalized as her restraints crumbled and blew away like dust, a supernatural sensation guiding her hands to a juicy slab of Orcish ham, bringing it back to her mouth in a snap motion and  as she sunk her teeth into it.

“Lunch time!”  Trenia squealed, her shackles vanishing in a glittery poof.  “I'll try out the manticore ribs first, and then I'll go for the Forbidden Fruit Pie! Yummy!”  Trenia rushed the table with eager hands, not the reluctance her companions had, and began cramming food into her own mouth, licking her lips as she feasted at the edge of her seat.

“You two should take after green hair!” Apple Kid shouted, now sitting on the top of a cornucopia overflowing with exotic and delicious fruits.  “She'll show you how it's done!”  Pram shot a dirty look at Apple Kid and would have probably returned his mockery as well, had her cheeks not been packed to their limits.  Already their distended stomachs bulged out, rotund with food and in a straining pain.  Yet they continued to binge by the spell's demand..  The taut skin of Salome's bare belly peeked out through the opening down the middle of her dress, a pale globe which soon would be doughy, topped with breasts that grew with increasing blubber.

“Take all the time you need to eat, girls!”  Pump Kin yelled, pushing a life sized chocolate Prinny in front of  Pram just as she had cleared out another cream topped bowl of gelatin.  Pram glowered at Pump Kin, her hands shoving the bowl away and grabbing the Chocoprinny by its sides, lifting it up and taking a huge bite from its head.  Her belly was now a jiggling, hanging paunch, yet it her rear outshone it in all aspects, two bulging blobs of flesh that where pushing up the back of her chair as they fulled out her roomy dress.  “We'll bring doublewide here an extra chair if she needs it,”  Pump Kin winked at Pram, who returned it with a bitter glare.

“You need to relax.  All that stress will give you some ulcers!  Why don't you take a hint from Green Hair?  She's just loving this!”  Pram heeded Corn Guy's words and peered to her side, her eyes bulging out as she watched Trenia gleefully stuff her belly without any inhibitions, working with the curse to feast with unmatched greed.  She held one oversized glazed cockatrice drumstick in one hand, chomping flesh off each in alternation, and licking her lips as her belly, well on its way to becoming a commendable curtain of flesh, continued its journey down her thighs.  

“The sooner you all bloat up and finish the meal, the sooner we might let you get out!”  Taunted Corn Guy as the feast continued on, the girls swelling with fat like sponges taking on water.  The spread of food covering the table hardly barely diminished as the three girls grew fatter and hungrier with each pound added, and the four culinary captors all sat down on the table and enjoyed the spectacle.

“But if we keep eating like this we're going to be too fat to even get out of here!”  Pram protested in a moment of clarity.

“Too bad, but that sounds like it'd work out pretty good for us!” Corn Guy stuck his tongue out and sat down on the centerpiece of the table, a fruit arrangement built with four seats upon which they could sit back and enjoy the show in comfort.

“Nice front row seats!”  Apple Kid guffawed as the group convened on the throne of food, popping open a bag of chocolate covered raisins as they intently watched Pram, Salome, and Trenia's expansion, peppering the affair with rude comments and intermittently pushing food out to goad on the gorging girls.

When the meal was polished off and all that remained were empty bowls and deserted platters the three victims where bloated, obese caricatures of their former selves, having outgrown their clothing and furniture in record time.

“Oh my badness,” gurgled Pram, laying back in her chair, her stomach filled with food well beyond its capacity as the pale globe wobbled, unstable perhaps due to the creaking of the chair below.  “I could use an antacid,”  she groaned, an understatement.  The legs of the chair let out one last creak, so loud it even sounded like a scream for help, before collapsing.  Pram let out a loud yelp as the legs of the chair buckled and snapped, her fall stopped prematurely by her plush posterior, each creamy cheek the size of a pillow yet iggling as if they were cushions full of gelatin rather than feathers.  “I just broke a chair with my ass.  Someone get me out of here!”

“I may be saying this too soon, but it seems like the worst is behind us.”  Lady Salome, the voluptuous demon lady, was wedged into her own chair, her arms pushed helplessly to her side by her enormous breasts.  Her canyoning cleavage was exposed by the divide in her dress, the slit riding all the way down to her deep button on her bloated belly.  “Once I get out of this chair we can start our escape.”  Salome shimmied her hips and buns out from their tight squeeze in the chair, the big cheeks pressed tightly against her dark dress.  

“Please,”  Pram confirmed, still stuck sitting on the ground.  “But first things first I need to find a new dress, or some pants, or something!”

“Do we really gotta go?”  Trenia was already upright, standing at the side of her chair and frowning.  The spacy young girl was now a walking jello mold who easily had an extra 100 pounds on her companions, themselves hearty 600 pound women.  Her belly fell across her lap and reached down to her shins, kicked and knocked up and down as she lazily waddled towards Pram and Salome, both shocked at the new size of this once thin girl.  She knocked the ripped and torn remains of her dress to the side, only letting the top remain as a way of covering up her jiggling breasts.  “I was still kinda hungry!”  Pram and Salome couldn't believe that Trenia could still be hungry after having ate so much of the bizarre, enhanced food served by the food demons.

“You can't be serious!”  Pram shouted, pulling her bulk to the ground with the assistance of the sturdy table.  She was almost on her feet by time her gargantuan rear was lifted off the ground, the two boulder of blubber bobbing left and ride as she stood straight up.  “You ate the most out of all of us!  How can you still be hungry!”  Pram turned over to Salome and frowned discretely at the voluminous women.  Salome was an over the top hourglass, and even so her belly apron, her smallest feature, still dangled close to her knees and across her lap and thighs.  She fiddled with her breasts, lifting and stuffing them into her dress to make sure they wouldn't be shaken out by her own waddling motion, the whole time Pram glancing at her with an intense jealousy.  

“What's the matter, Pram?”  Salome asked, her breasts now secure in her dress.

“Why do you get the boobs and the curves?”  She yelled.  “All I've got are two butt cheeks that look and feel like pillows stuffed with pudding!  And they're a pain to carry around!”  She pouted.

“They can't be that bad!”  Trenia tumbled over to Pram, laughing as her apron swayed side to side and brushed against the ground as she rampaged forward, before taking her hands and slamming them down on the top of Pram's bottom, which hung out a good foot from her back.  Pram yelped, leaping forward as her cheeks shook one after another.  “You can put things on it like a shelf!”  

“Trenia, I'm going to kill you!”  Pram was blushing as she yelled at Trenia, turning around as she reached for her own rear, grabbing it and ending the shaking.  “Once we get out of here I'm going to do whatever it takes to get back to normal.”  Trenia frowned for a split second at Pram, before laughing cheerfully.

“If we can get out here!”  She sung playfully, shaking her belly in her hands.

“We will get out!”  Pram panicked as she rushed forward, tearing apart the room with her eyes as she searched any exit big enough to accommodate her posterior.  “I'm sure those veggie heads had to get in here some way!”

“Speaking of those 'veggie heads,'  you haven't happened to see them recently, have you?”  Salome questioned, scanning the room along with Pram.  “I remember seeing them sitting on the table, but they seem to be gone.  All that's left are their clothes and weapons.”

“Maybe they ran off streaking!”  Trenia suggested as she waddled circles around the table, playfully enjoying her own body's ocean of motion.  Salome leaned  over the table, curiously inspecting it as her heavy breasts brushed across the top, and probed the empty centerpiece the captors had once sat on.

“Or we ate them.”  Salome replied bluntly, to Pram's shock, Trenia too busy playing to pay attention.

“We ate them?”  Pram gagged, sticking out her tongue and shaking her head.  “No wonder my stomach feels so sick, they looked so rotten!”  She grabbed her snow white belly and gave it a jiggle.  “But what the hell does that count as?  Vore?  Are they more vegetable or more demon?  Is now really a good time for me to be debating this?”  

“I'm not too sure it is,”  Salome said, heaving her body off the table as something caught her eye on the other side of the dining room, her breasts still laying on the place mat.

“Why not?  I really wanna know now that you mentioned it!”  Trenia asked, stopping instantly, with her body shaking and settling down from her quick halt.  Pram and Trenia followed Salome's gaze to find a door at the other side of the room, open by a crack.  

“Was that even there before?”  Pram asked, unable to remember anything but blank, undecorated wall on that side.

“It doesn't matter where it came from.  It's our escape,”  Salome said, determinedly.