mansion

You draw your find out of the coat pocket and hold it to the light admiringly. The pendant is a round amber cabochon, large enough to fit in your palm and thick enough that it's practically a half-sphere. A shimmery crimson highlight catches the light and seems to dance within as the heavy pendant twists on its chain. Barely been here five seconds and already you have a score! You'd love to try it on. [[Put it on.->Wear it.]] (text-style:"fidget")[[Try it on.->Wear it.]] [[Wear it.]] (text-style:"fidget")[[Wear it.]]

You slip the amulet over your neck without thinking, half in a daze. A chill rolls down your spine as it settles into place, snapping you out of your trance with a little jolt of apprehension. That was the uneasy sensation of a cursed item settling into place on its new owner, and awareness of its effect swims into focus in your mind: (text-style: "shadow")[Amulet of Cursed Digestion] Speeds the action of the stomach unnaturally, cursing the victim with insatiable hunger. Food consumed is rapidly converted to fat. The amulet cannot be removed by its wearer. Your stomach rumbles ominously, guts already convinced it's time for a meal. Okay. You can work with this - it's the kind of curse that's worth a lot to the right buyer. You'll just have to tough out the effects for now, and hopefully not eat too much. Another search of the room turns up the key you were originally looking for, behind a decorative panel with a small secret compartment. [[You steel yourself and head inside.->Corridor]](set: $chefseen to false)(set: $rootcellarseen to false)(set: $pantryseen to false)(set: $gagged to false)(set: $bridled to false)(set: $bellychaintaken to false)(set: $bellychainworn to false)(set:$macaronsearch to false)(set:$hasbottle to false)(set:$hasmilk to false)

You're a small-time kobold thief. Tonight is going to be your big break, though - you have a tip on the best entrance to sneak in to the remote and mysterious mansion at the edge of town. The owner is reclusive and wealthy, supposedly a powerful magician, so you'll need to be in peak form. You have every confidence that you can pull this off, though. The back exit to the kitchen cellars is unassuming, maybe even a little shabby for such a big place. It's definitely clean and well-used, though. If your information is right, there's a spare emergency key somewhere in this little antechamber. Find it and you'll be in business. The first thing your careful search turns up, though, is a lovely [[necklace.->Necklace]]

Two doors branch off this corridor to the north and south; it ends at a third door, behind which (if:$chefseen is true)[the tegu pastry-chef](else:)[someone] is bustling around with a rattling of pots and pans. (if:$rootcellarseen is true)[[[Go south, to the root cellar.->Root cellar]]](else:)[[[Go south.->Root cellar]]] (if:$pantryseen is true)[[[Go north, to the pantry.->Pantry]]](else:)[[[Go north.->Pantry]]] [[Enter the kitchen.]]

(if:$rootcellarseen is false)[This room - you gulp, and your enchanted stomach rumbles.(set: $rootcellarseen to true)] This is a root cellar, and a well-stocked one. Potatoes, carrots, onions, and juicy apples overflow from barrels and crates. One door leads back to the corridor, the other, at the far end, to a room deeper in storage. (if:$gagged is false)[(either: "To silence your growling stomach, you grab a carrot and nibble on it, making it last. That can't be too fattening, can it?", "You absentmindedly snag an apple, realizing what you've done only after the crisp snap of biting into it hits your ears. Might as well finish it, huh?", "You take a carrot to try and placate your unnatural hunger. It's juicy and just a little sweet, one of the best you've ever eaten, but somehow unsatisfying; you'd better take two.", "You bite into a raw potato, trying to silence your gut with the unpalatable taste. It backfires as you hungrily gulp down the whole thing.", "You can't resist taking just one apple. The tart flavor is heavenly on your tongue, and you savor every bite down to the core.")] (if:$bridled is false)[[Search the cellar thoroughly.]] [[Return to the corridor.->Corridor]] [[Take the far door.->Milk vats]]

This pantry appears to be dedicated to keeping pastries under magical stasis - and your eyes nearly pop out of your head, looking them over. Such magnificent cakes, pies, flans, merengues, tarts, covering every shelf, and everywhere you look, another shelf loaded with enough sweets to make the wood groan - the chef in this place must be a master of their craft. You despair over your plummeting chances of getting out of this place with your waistline intact. (if:$bridled is true)[You realize you're drooling around your bridle bit only when it drips down your chest. God, the things you'd do to sample just one of these treats right now...](set: $pantryseen to true) (if:$gagged is false)[(either: "The owners will never notice if you take just one cupcake, will they? Well, that will leave the rows uneven, so you'd better take three. Attention to detail is important for a thief.","You can't resist munching your way through a sticky, crunchy slice of pecan pie, almost too rich to be believed. Your greedy gut rumbles in obvious appreciation.","You sample a chocolate flan and moan aloud at the first bite. The chef here makes everything taste as good as it looks.","You browse in vain for the least fattening-looking dessert on the shelf before giving in and devouring a whole row of strawberry shortcakes, heavy with rich whipped cream.","You take a handful of caramels, hoping to chew slowly, but your self-control doesn't last. In moments, you're licking the traces off your fingers and wishing longingly for more.")] (if: $macaronsearch is true)[[Search the pantry for macarons.]](if: $macaronsearch is false)[[Search the pantry thoroughly.]] [[Return to the corridor.->Corridor]]

The kitchen is occupied by a tegu working furiously at an untidy, flour-streaked counter. She's dressed plainly enough, in an apron and a long dress, and stands easily more than twice your size in all dimensions. (if:$chefseen is false)[She glances up as you enter and looks you over measuringly, hands still furiously occupied whisking a bowl of cream. Was that a hint of a smirk, or just her jowls wobbling? "You must be the new help," she says, turning back to her cooking. "Be a dear and fetch me a fresh jar of milk, please." She gestures vaguely at a shelf of empty glass bottles.(set:$chefseen to true)](else-if: $hasmilk is false)[She's still waiting on the milk she requested when you first walked in.](else-if: $macaronsearch is true)[She's still waiting on those macarons, and presumably, so is the Mistress of the mansion.] All the ovens in the place are occupied, and the mingled smells of cooking, primarily sweet but occasionally savory, are making your empty belly sit up and beg. It's tremendously warm in here, but it doesn't seem to be bothering the tegu woman any. The door behind her appears to lead upstairs to the mansion proper. The door behind you leads back out into the corridor. (if:$hasbottle is false)[[Take a bottle.]] [[Go upstairs.]] [[Return to the corridor.->Corridor]]

(if: $macaronsearch is true)[You don't have time to search this room in detail. You're looking for macarons, and this clearly isn't the place they're kept.](else:)[You set your jaw mulishly, determined to take your time and do this job right. You'll search even this unassuming room for secret compartments and passageways, and you'll have plenty of healthy, non-fattening food to distract your cursed belly while you do so. A flawless plan! You crunch your way through a sackful of crisp carrots, circling the room and minutely examining each wall. You've only put on a bit of a gut by the end of the fruitless search, and you figure you're safe to switch to apples for a bit. You congratulate yourself on your restraint and good sense as you steadily munch down to the very core of every apple in the barrel, tapping crates to listen for false bottoms and suspicious echoes. You're a *little* worried that you haven't turned anything up yet for all your trouble... (if: $bellychaintaken is true)[ Sure enough, you end up with nothing to show for your careful search except a gut that fills out the looseness of your enchanted belly chain a little better. Sullenly, you kick a sack of onions for wasting your time and head for the door.](else:)[preoccupied, you bite into the next apple. Inexplicably, your teeth hit what feels like leather wrapped around a solid core. You yelp and try to spit it out - then bring your hands up to scrabble at the bit and bridle that's animatedly wrapping straps and buckles around your head! It's no use - in moments, you're trapped, tongue pinned by a fat gag, head and neck wrapped tightly in strips of leather. What kind of freak booby-traps their *apples* with cursed items? You stomp your foot in sheer frustration... and freeze at the unfamiliar sound of a hoof clacking against the floor. (text-style:"shadow")[Glutton's Bridle] Disguises itself as food, then fastens onto the victim who bites into it. The wearer gradually transforms into a stallion, beginning at the feet and gradually proceeding upwards. The bridle cannot be removed by its wearer. You swallow heavily. You'd halfway resigned yourself to walking away from this mansion a bit softer around the waist. Your nimble, lock-picking fingers turning into hooves - now *there's* something that will put a crimp in your career! You can't waste any more time searching musty old cellars, and you can't be distracted by your stomach grumbling sour complaints about your mouth being blocked. Grab something valuable and get out.(set:$gagged to true)(set:$bridled to true)]] [[Return to the corridor.->Corridor]] [[Take the far door.->Milk vats]]

(if:visits is 0)[You proceed through the door on the far end, wondering whether you're wasting your time. Is a root cellar a terrible place to store treasure, or a fantastic place where no-one would think to look? ]The previous room was pleasantly cool, and this one is actively magically chilled. According to the labels on the huge tanks, this room provides storage for vats of milk. (if:$bellychaintaken is false)[(if:$macaronsearch is false)[One of the containers has an incongruous jeweled chain wrapped around it. It looks like it could be a belly dancer's ornament, although oversized for a typical lithe dancer's figure.](else:)[The jeweled chain you spotted earlier is missing, for some reason. (set:$bellychaintaken to true)] [[Take the chain.]]] (if:$chefseen is true)[[Take some milk.]] [[Return to the root cellar.->Root cellar]]

(if:$bridled is true)[Jackpot! But - the moment you touch it, the jeweled chain writhes like a snake, slipping free from your grasp and disappearing between the vats. You whine around the mouth-filling bit gag. It must have been a cursed item incompatible with the one you're already wearing... which at least means you're spared from its effects, but that's little comfort when you're still stuck with this one. (set: $bellychaintaken to true)](else:)[The moment you touch it, the jeweled chain flows down your arm like a snake, far too quickly for you to snatch it away. It wraps around your growling stomach and settles into place, a loose coil that shifts and squirms out of the way when you try to pluck at it. You gulp. Clearly this is another cursed item, but not the kind that immediately reveals its effect. The ornament is pretty enough - glistening white pearls and star-shaped silver beads dangling from an intricate chain. It will jingle softly when you move, a disadvantage for any thief, but... your stomach is louder than that right now, so perhaps it doesn't matter.(set: $bellychaintaken to true)(set: $bellychainworn to true)] [[Return to the root cellar.->Root cellar]] (if:$chefseen is true)[[Take some milk.]]

(if:$bridled is true)[You don't have time to search this room in detail, you're turning into a horse! Besides, it would be pure torment hanging around all this food, unable to sample a single bite... [[Return to the corridor.->Corridor]]](else:)[You prepare yourself to search this room thoroughly for secret compartments and hidden doors. Who are you kidding - you're going to eat your way through every dessert this bountiful pantry holds, or burst trying! You sample your way gleefully through the shelves, a dozen cookies here, a danish there, a sloppy handful of peppermint bark, donuts with a rainbow of frostings. Everything tastes absolutely divine, and none of it fills you up. The amulet's curse is working overtime converting every bite to heavy rolls of fat, your body softening and ballooning in all dimensions, every limb and feature sagging with flab. You move aside an empty dish and gasp aloud. Is that an actual *gem?* You pull it out into the light... and chuckle to yourself, turning the fist-sized "diamond" in your hands. It's an obvious fake, a molded sugar construction mimicking the opulent shape of a cut jewel. With a rueful shrug, you toss it into your mouth, crunch it down, and look around for the next dainty... Your stomach's endless growling takes on a new note, a deep, ominous bubbling. You swallow, [[uneasily wondering what you've done to yourself now.]]]

Your stomach billows and surges outward, the rich smell of fresh-baked cake overwhelming your nose. You tumble onto your flabby ass, legs going numb - whole body going numb, as your flesh is resculpted into tiers of puffy, fluffy dough, each flabby curve slathered in frosting and clearly baked to perfection. You'd be in signal danger of eating yourself if you could lift a hand to your mouth, so perhaps it's fortunate that you can't move a muscle. No, what are you thinking - it's a terrible sign! The stasis enchantments throughout the room settle onto your flesh as you complete your conversion to something they consider a "dessert," ensuring that you'll be perfectly fresh when the owner of the mansion next comes looking for something to eat. Not to mention perfectly frozen and helpless, trapped by your own gluttony. All you can do is drift into a numb pastry reverie, still savoring the remembered flavors of your recent orgy of gorging despite your predicament.... (text-style:"shadow")[Ending: Cake](set:$cakeending to true) (display: "Endings") Inventory: (text-style: "shadow")[Amulet of Cursed Digestion] Speeds the action of the stomach unnaturally, cursing the victim with insatiable hunger. Food consumed is rapidly converted to fat. The amulet cannot be removed by its wearer. (text-style: "shadow")[Patisserie Hex] When the edible, enchanted focus of this curse is consumed, their flesh is rapidly converted to cake, expanding as the mass of dense organs and meat is conserved. The victim is awake and aware, but feels no pain. (if: $bellychainworn is true)[(text-style:"shadow")[Belly Chain of ???] Unactivated cursed artifact with an unknown effect.] [[Restart?->Begin.]]

You take a jar. Best not to raise any suspicions - and maybe acting as a servant will get you more leeway to move freely. (set: $hasbottle to true) [[Return to the corridor.->Corridor]]

"Ah, ah," she warns you, lifting her pudgy tail to block the doorway. "I gave you a task. Get to it." (if:$hasbottle is false and $macaronsearch is false)[You take a jar. Best not to raise any suspicions - and maybe acting as a servant will get you more leeway to move freely.(set: $hasbottle to true) ][[Return to the corridor.->Corridor]]

(if:$hasbottle is false)[You'll need something to hold the milk in. You'll need to retrace your steps to the [[kitchen->Enter the kitchen.]](if:$bridled is false)[, maybe snag (either: "an apple", "a pair of apples", "a carrot") along the way to tide yourself over. [[But you could take some for yourself...->Drink some more.]]](else:)[, both wasting time and walking past all that temptingly delicious food again. You mutter unintelligible obscenities into your bridle.]](else:)[You fill the jar with cold, sweet milk(if:$bridled is true)[, drooling hungrily around your heavy bit.](else:)[, licking your lips hungrily.] Perhaps you could sneak one little sip. (set: $hasmilk to true) [[Have some milk.]] (if:$bellychainworn is true)[[Just a little.->Have some milk.]] [[Take it back to the kitchen.->Come back with milk]]]

(if: $bridled is true)[You raise the glass to your lips and try to drink. What little gets past the bit, into your mouth, and down your throat tastes divine, ice cold and unbelievably fresh - but, predictably, much more of it spills down your front. You sheepishly top off the bottle and hurry down the hall, blushing crimson as you imagine what you must look like: the spilled evidence of your greed dripping down your chin and the rumbling of your belly, plus the clip-clop of your hooves, echoing through the hall around you. [[Return to the kitchen.->Come back shamefully with milk]]](else:)[You raise the glass to your lips and drink. The milk is ice cold and delightfully soothing to your throat, tasting unbelievably fresh. Before you know it you've polished off half the bottle in one long gulp, and it isn't a small bottle. Your cursed stomach contentedly churns the creamy treat into a new layer of fat, leaving you just as hungry as before. [[Drink some more.]] (if:$bellychainworn is true)[[[Fill your belly. ->Drink some more.]] [[Drink and drink. ->Drink some more.]]] [[Return to the kitchen.->Come back with milk]]]

(if:$bridled is true)["Ah, thank you," she says, taking the bottle and looking you up and down. Her eyes narrow and her lips compress disapprovingly; have you given yourself away somehow? She sets the milk aside and beckons you closer. "Come here, dear, I have something for you." Cautiously, you step forward - not expecting her to grasp you by the base of your horsetail and haul you bodily onto the counter, your newly pudgy belly squishing against the hard surface. "I see, I see," she muses, fingers teasing at the edges of your asshole as you squirm, too shocked to muster a real defense. "You made a good start. But I think a little adjustment will help you indulge a lot more. That's what you need if you're going to fit in around here." Her finger slides into you for a moment, your pucker stretching easier than you would have believed around the unexpected, unlubricated intrusion. She withdraws, rustles in a drawer for a moment, and then that pressure returns. Not her fingers this time but a cool, smooth metal plug, the surface mercifully slick enough to slide home without too much pain. You gasp at the way it stretches you out, nevertheless. Even the stem between the internal bulb and the external flare, when it finally comes to rest, is bigger than just about anything you've taken in the past. It must be enchanted, and you doubt the magic stops at merely assuring your comfort. "This plug is part of your uniform," the chef informs you sternly, hand caressing down over your taint on its way to cup your heavy balls. You groan into your gag, overwhelmed. Those are new - the bridle's slow transformation is hard at work on your genitals. A stallion's cock and balls are taking shape and growing to massive size, especially as the tegu continues to tug and stimulate them and your asshole clenches around that impossibly filling plug. "You're forgiven for forgetting it on your first day, but you'll be expected to wear it from now on." The oily substance the plug was coated in feels like it's accumulating inside you. No, it definitely is - dripping into you, gradually filling your bowels. And judging from the way your squashed stomach is spilling out over more and more of the counter, the cursed amulet works just as well on nutrition that enters your gut from the wrong end. "There we are. Down you go." You awkwardly push down from the counter, half-erect horsecock bouncing merrily after the short drop. "The Mistress has called for a snack. Fetch her a plate of macarons from the pantry, would you please?" The tegu turns to the sink and begins washing her hands, dismissing you utterly.](else-if:$bellychainworn is true)["Ah, thank you," she says, taking the bottle and weighing it in her hand, speculatively looking you up and down. "You know, I always prefer to use the freshest ingredients. Come here, dear." You step closer, apprehensive but unable to see another way out. She presses the bottle of milk to your lips. "Drink," she orders, and you're too hungry to wonder or hesitate. You swallow, rich cream digesting into a swelling layer of fat almost as quickly as you can drink, leaving fullness tantalizingly out of reach. The belly chain jingles softly as you finally pull back from the empty bottle, and you glance down, then stare - your body has swelled to fill the chain's ambitious circumference in an unexpected way. Four teats hang down from your belly, swollen and rosy-pink, the pearls and stars that dangle down from the chain twinkling in the light as your new udder wobbles and sloshes with your shaky breathing. "Up you get, there's a good cow," the tegu coos, lifting you onto the kitchen counter with surprising strength. "Hold this." She arranges a bowl in your lap, and you cling to it obediently. You try to stammer out some kind of protest, but it turns into a drawn-out moan as she begins expertly tugging and milking your teats. The sensation is more pleasurable than you ever would have imagined, and you lose yourself to it, until her hands pull away and the bowl of fresh milk is removed from your lap. "Well done," she praises you, turning back to her cooking as if nothing has happened. "Don't just sit there, dear! The Mistress has called for a snack. Fetch her a plate of macarons from the pantry, would you please?" You nod weakly and slip down from the counter, gasping a little as dropping to the ground sets your new udder to wobbling and sloshing. On top of it all, you're just as gnawingly hungry as ever.](else:)["Ah, thank you," she says, taking the bottle and looking you up and down. Her eyes narrow and her lips compress disapprovingly; have you given yourself away somehow? But she only turns back dismissively to the counter, setting the milk aside. "The Mistress has called for a snack. Fetch her a plate of macarons from the pantry, would you please?"] (set: $macaronsearch to true) [[Return to the corridor.->Corridor]]

"Ah, thank you," she says, her face breaking out into a jowly, wobbly grin as she looks you over. "Oh dear, ran into a bit of temptation, did you? Never mind, sweetheart, this job does take a lot of self-control..." She beckons you closer, raising a corner of her apron to briskly scrub milk and drool off your face and chest. Flushing crimson, you try to pull away, only for her to hook fingers into your bridle straps, pulling you up short. "All it takes is a little discipline," she promises, dropping the apron rummaging in a drawer with her free hand. "I have just the thing to help you out. Stand still a moment, dear." She draws her hand out and fiddles with the straps of your bridle in some way you can't quite see, quick and confident - first one side, then the other... She steps back, looks you over with a satisfied nod, and snaps her pudgy fingers. You have just a moment to register that something's darkened the edges of your peripheral vision - horse blinders? - before the darkness lights up with faint, beguiling colors... Stupidly, you whip your head to the side, wide-eyed, trying to see what's been done to you, but of course the glow remains just out of your field of view. "Don't worry your pretty head about those," the tegu assures you, and your heartbeat rapidly calms, an unnatural relaxation washing over you. "They're there to help you, since your own willpower around food was obviously so weak. They'll keep you focused." She pats your bulging belly, which growls in response, and idly wipes drool from her hand - your watering mouth has only redoubled its production, now that your jaw has gone limply slack. It's hard to argue in the face of such obvious evidence. "Back straight, eyes forward, sweetie. The Mistress has called for a snack. Go and fetch her a plate of macarons from the pantry." You turn and march out of the room without questioning the order, horse's tail swishing behind you. (text-style:"fidget")[[Follow orders.]]

(if:$hasbottle is false)[Forget the bossy woman in the kitchen and forget your original quest, too. You're frustrated, you're hungry, and nothing matters in this moment as much as indulging yourself. You kneel down to fasten your lips around the spout of the nearest vat, heedlessly cranking the spigot to full blast.](else:)[You refill the bottle and drink from it again, in huge, indulgent gulps now that you know how delicious it is. You even feel full and sated for one glorious moment before your curse manages to catch up, belly gurgling and sloshing as processes the new bulk. There's only one path forward that makes sense to your addled mind. You toss the bottle aside negligently and fasten your lips around the spout directly.] Milk flows directly down your throat, fast enough to finally satisfy you. Utter bliss! (if:$bellychainworn is false)[ As your eyelids flutter closed in contentment, you catch a flash of glittering serpentine movement in your periphery, but can't put your non-food-related thoughts in order quickly enough to do anything about it. The chain you ignored before settles into place around your rapidly ballooning belly, cold at first and quickly warming to match your overheated temperature. (set: $bellychainworn to true)] Belatedly, the sensation of metal digging into your overstuffed stomach registers strongly enough to pull you out of your milky reverie. You grope at your new rolls of fat, mind working sluggishly, trying to find the chain before it cuts into you or breaks - and your eyes go wide as your hands brush over a sensitive teat, the front of your belly bulging out in an unfamiliar way. The cursed chain is straining around the girth of your new udder, which swells and sloshes with each gulp of heavy cream the vat forces into you. And even then, you can't bear to pull your mouth away, unable to face the idea of being hungry again. The chain creaks ominously, then snaps, shattering into a white glitter that swirls around you for a moment, then absorbs into your straining, bulging udder, leaving you with a lingering warmth and no physical trace of itself. The curse it carried has been fulfiled, and you have a sinking feeling it might not be reversable - certainly it won't be if you trap yourself in this basement gorging yourself on vats of cream! You summon every scrap of willpower you possess, fixing your mind on the single goal of opening your jaw and pulling away from the stream of milk... And your hands grope and knead at your udder, tugging at the heavy teats, spilling your own milk across the floor. The sensation is as pleasurable as any masturbation you've ever experienced, filling your senses, crowding out your pitiful thoughts. You surrender yourself to gluttony and lust, moaning, rubbing, gulping, milking, [[milking.]]

Your fugue ends only when the stream of milk from the spigot dribbles to a stop. You open your eyes blearily to find tegu from the kitchen pulling her hand back from the tap, looming over you. "Greedy, greedy cow," she chides you, leering. Your stomach rumbles, your immense hunger already building back to its peak - never mind that you're almost unrecognizable under rolls of fat, swelling even now as the amulet's curse churns through the last bellyful of cream. "Look what a mess you've made, wasting milk. Good thing you're equipped to replace it now, hmm? Up with you, cow. [[Come quietly to the milking stall and there'll be a treat for you.]]"

The dangling promise of food motivates you to at least try struggling to your feet, but the feeble effort does little except set your heavy udder to sloshing and wobbling, and your hands inevitably settle back on the sensitive new flesh, groping and rubbing mindlessly. The tegu only laughs, clearly having expected this outcome, and gets her hands under your flabby armpits, bodily hauling you to the back of the room. She knocks on what proves to be an unobtrusive door, perhaps magically concealed until now - it's hard to care about the details. All you know is that you're hauled through, and kindly helped into a sort of harness, one that supports your arms, legs, and neck but allows your udder and your huge, wobbling gut to hang down freely. "What a good cow you make," she praises you, as you're raised off the ground. "A much better cow than a thief! I'll have this back, darling, now that it's done its work..." She works the chain of the amulet out of the folds of your neck flab, then lifts it easily off your neck - the curse apparently only preventing you from taking it off yourself. Your hunger dulls from an all-consuming roar to a more ordinary pang, enough to give you one lucid moment to be aware of just how much trouble you're in. "I'll even be generous and give you a little gift in exchange," she continues, tilting your chin up and guiding your face into something like a leather muzzle - perhaps more aptly, something like a feedbag - which buckles at the back of your neck and again at a collar around your throat. A crystalline and translucent bell hangs from the collar, a cowbell in size and shape if not in material. You shake your head in negation, feebly trying to throw it off, or at least prevent her from closing the buckles a moment longer. The bell chimes, a pure, soothing tone that rings through your mind and drowns out every thought. You relax immediately into quiet docility, contentment flooding your body. The tegu smiles, scratching around the little horn-buds developing on your forehead. Something round is pushing between your slack lips, growing even as you reflexively suckle at it. Your brow furrows for a moment - horns? a tube? - and the tegu taps the bell to provoke another chime, washing the half-developed thoughts away on another lovely wave of sound. "Good cow! What a sweetheart, you're a natural. Relax right there and you'll get your treat, while I finish setting you up..." She bustles around you, stripping the last ruined remains of your clothing - torn and milk-soaked - from your enormous body, wiping you dry with brisk strokes of a rag. Something thick and sweet is flowing from the muzzle down the tube that has filled your throat. It settles in your core, warm and filling, and you hum contentedly. "Did you notice this side effect of your lovely new body, cow?" she asks, swiping the rag roughly between your legs. You buck and thrash, more from surprise than anything - the cloth had run easily over smooth, featureless skin, feeling not especially different from the strokes she'd used to clean milk off your legs. The startled jolt sets your cowbell jangling again, and you sink dazedly back into your harness. She laughs, scrubbing over the null patch a few more times, perhaps just to drive the point home. "You *didn't* notice! Poor silly cow! Well, you won't be missing whatever you used to have down here; I promise this is going to feel *much* better." She reaches below you, guiding your teats into the suction of a milking machine, and proves herself completely correct. You drift into a state of oblivious, orgasmic bliss, secure in your new place within the mansion. (text-style:"shadow")[Ending: Milk](set:$milkending to true) (display: "Endings") Inventory: (text-style:"shadow")[Milch Cow's Muzzle] The cowbell produces a chime which renders the wearer docile and unable to think clearly, while the leather muzzle force-feeds them magically conjured grain porridge. It also induces the wearer to grow a small pair of cow's horns, which remain even if the muzzle is removed. "Because it's cute," the item's enchantress explains. (text-style:"shadow")[Curse of Galactic Lactation] If the wearer of the Belly Chain of Galactic Lactation becomes fat enough to break the chain, the effect is permanently imbued into their body. Removes the wearer's original genitals, leaving their crotch featureless and sensation heavily muted. Erogenous sensitivity transfers to the wearer's new udder, particularly when milked. [[Restart?->Begin.]]

You search mechanically through the pantry, focused on your task despite the distracting array of colorful sweets on all sides. You feel so warm and grateful for the chef's help controlling your greedy appetite. Even better is the surge of satisfaction that comes over you as you pick up the plate of macarons you were looking for. Following orders is so wonderful, and you just know that completing the task outright will be even better. You hurry back to the kitchen, the sweet scent of sugar right under your nose prompting you to drool veritable waterfalls... (text-style:"fidget")[[Follow orders like a good pony.]]

"Well done!" the tegu praises you, taking the plate from your hands as you shiver with delight at her kind words. Your vision swirls with color at the edges. Your lips stretch into a wide, mindless smile around the bit filling your mouth. The only thing it occurs to you to do is to wait eagerly for the next command. "Come up here and sit for a moment, dear, I think your hard work deserves a reward." She lifts you, apparently effortlessly, up onto the counter as your dazzled mind excitedly processes the idea of *reward*. It certainly gives your horsecock a stir of interest, perking hopefully into the start of an erection as it grows into its new form. The tegu reaches for your bridle, unbuckles a few straps, and easily slides the spit-soaked bit out of your mouth, setting it aside. The rest of the bridle, with your nice, soothing blinders, remains in place. "Open wide," she directs you, and your mouth falls open - immediately rewarded by another intangible wave of pleasure, and a very tangible macaron dropped onto your tongue. You bite down ravenously on the airy, crunchy treat and swallow it practically whole, belatedly remembering they were meant for your Mistress. The tegu catches your worried look and shushes you gently, holding the bottle you fetched earlier to your mouth. "You don't need to think, dearie, you need to eat," she admonishes you. You gulp down a refreshing mouthful of creamy milk, reassured that all is well. You tear through the rest of the plate in no time at all, external orders and your cursed body's desires finally aligned. The indulgent treat kicks the amulet's magic into high gear after the long stretch of being denied any fuel; your rock-hard erection is quickly pinned between pillowy thighs and rolls of flabby belly, to say nothing of the huge, heavy balls crushed in your lap below it. The tegu generously feeds you every bite by hand, so you barely notice your pudgy fingers losing dexterity and melting together into hooves as your transformation creeps higher. "Good, good. I'll take this back now, sweetheart." The chef lifts the necklace easily off your neck, leaving you with a merely roaring appetite rather than a ragingly bottomless one. "I think a cream filling will finish the dish nicely." In a trice, she presents you with a piping bag of truly monstrous proportions. You eagerly latch your mouth around the nozzle, moaning as rich frosting is piped directly down your throat - it feels like an amazing revelation for food to finally *fill* you and leave you satisfied after all the trials you've been through. She doesn't relent until every drop is inside you, your enormous gut rounding out full and taut. "There, all done. What a good job!" the tegu coos, fondling an appreciative handful of your huge, firm belly. "Mistress will be so happy with you! Go on upstairs and let her know you have a snack for her." Your brow knits for a moment, trying to understand. You just ate the snack, so... The tegu tugs your arms, dropping you down from the counter abruptly - your heavy gut wobbles, your dripping cock bounces, and your few thoughts are scattered right out of your head. "Up the stairs and on your left. Don't keep her waiting," she admonishes, giving your jiggly ass a light smack as you dumbly obey, waddling automatically to the door... The trip up the staircase is an ordeal. You aren't used to carrying this weight, nor walking on such hooves. It's a miracle you don't slip on precome or drool, since you're leaving plenty of both behind you. Nevertheless, you drive your winded body upward in a haze of mindless obedience. A powerfully corpulent winged lioness is dozing by a cozy fireplace in the warm, plushly furnished room you were directed to. "I have a snack for you, Mistress," you repeat, words slurring as they leave your thick, heavy tongue. She stirs, eyes catching the firelight as she turns to gaze at you with interest. "Ah, Shoshannah must have caught another intruder... what an efficient kitchen staff I have." The lioness lazily raises a claw to beckon you closer, and you sway forward, cock flexing. She leans forward and wipes her rough tongue over your face, savoring the hints of sugar on your breath, lacing your drool. "My compliments to the chef." Her maw gapes wide, and closes around your head and shoulders. The faint glow in your periphery fills your vision in the darkness, keeping you paralyzed with ecstasy and obedience as you're swallowed, bit by bit, and fall deeper and deeper into Mistress's throat. Your last lucid sensation is of emptying your heavy balls as they pass over Mistress's hot tongue, adding another spice to her meal as you slide into oblivion. (text-style:"shadow")[Ending: Snack](set:$voreending to true) (display: "Endings") Inventory: (text-style:"shadow")[Glutton's Bridle] Disguises itself as food, then fastens onto the victim who bites into it. The wearer gradually transforms into a stallion, beginning at the feet and gradually proceeding upwards. The bridle cannot be removed by its wearer. (text-style:"shadow")[Blinkers of Bedazzlement] Attachments for a horse-style bridle. Project a hypnotic glow into the wearer's peripheral vision. The wearer quickly becomes deeply suggestible and experiences highly pleasurable sensations as reinforcement for following orders. [[Restart?->Begin.]]

(if: $bridled is true)[You search through the shelves of delectable desserts, your stomach churning, the plug in your asshole shifting with every step and continuously pumping more pounds onto your waistline, and your heavy cock throbbing as you struggle to keep your focus. You nearly pass over the colorful macarons in your haze. The only thing to be grateful for is that you can't eat them around the gag - there's no way you'd be able to resist indulging in this state, and there's no telling what kind of punishment you'd earn for such a mistake. You trot back down the corridor with your prize, erection dripping and flexing You're not so sure you can salvage this in time to reverse everything that's happening to you, but maybe if you hurry... When you return, the tegu looks up barely long enough to confirm you have the requested plate, then waves you through the far door. "Up the stairs and to the left, dear." [[Take the plate upstairs.]]](else:)[You search through the shelves of delectable desserts, your stomach roaring furiously as you try to keep your focus. Macarons, macarons - not cupcakes, not danishes, not cookies, not fudge. Airy, crunchy, oh-so-tasty macarons... There! You pull the plate off the shelf and snap into one without thinking. And it tastes so amazing, you can't resist taking a second... and a third, just to tide yourself over on your way down the corridor, and a fourth to make the holes in the arrangement on the plate less obvious, and a fifth... [[Come back with... some macarons.]]]

You present the plate sheepishly for the tegu chef's inspection, but the demolished remains of the macaron arrangement aren't going to fool anyone. She *tsks* and reaches for a washcloth, scrubbing crumbs off your flushed, flabby cheeks. "Never mind, dear - it takes a lot of self-control to do this job, doesn't it? I know what you need. Just a moment." She bends over to a cupboard below the counter, giving you a moment's excellent view, then comes back up with a silken facemask, one which will tie behind your head and cover your nose and mouth. It looks ordinary enough, inside and outside, but once it's been tied to your face, something shoves its way unceremoniously into your mouth - a rich, thick mouthful of chocolate cake, by the texture and taste. You nearly jump out of your skin, staring wide-eyed at the chef. She only smiles and winks, taking the plate of macarons from your nerveless hands and claiming one for herself. "Mmm. There, I won't tell if you won't - and you won't be sneaking any more snacks if your mouth is already full, isn't that right?" You chew and swallow, hoping to make some kind of reply, but the cursed mask fills your mouth right back up again - this time with a sticky wad of taffy. What else can you do but nod? "Go ahead and try it again, sweetie. You may bring the macarons right on up to Mistress once you have them." She turns back to her endless round of kitchen tasks - although not without crunching another macaron from the rapidly emptying plate. Well, that, at least, is music to your ears. Permission to openly walk through the mansion might even be worth everything that's happened so far... as long as you can get in and out before this combination of cursed items puts you in a food coma! [[Return for macarons.]]

You know where the macarons are kept now, so the novelty of the task is mostly in being continuously force-fed sweets as you retrace your steps. You check, just to be thorough, but of course the knots slip frictionlessly through your fingers - you can't take this one off either. The mask changes its assault moment to moment, not allowing you to become sick of any one flavor - chocolates, vanilla cream, peppermint, once a cheek-bulging bite of shockingly tart key lime pie. With your cursed stomach working overtime, at least you aren't becoming uncomfortably full... just uncomfortably fat. You need to make this quick. (set: $gagged to true)(set:$masked to true) The tegu looks up barely long enough to confirm you have the requested plate, then waves you through the far door. "Up the stairs and to the left, dear." [[Take the plate upstairs.]]

Taking the stairs is interesting with your body shifting and growing in size around you. (if: $bellychainworn is true)[Your udder sloshes and shifts distractingly with every movement, bouncing, straining against the belly chain that just barely contains it. You stop halfway up the stairs to readjust it, and to confirm a creeping suspicion... reaching down between your legs, your fingers find no features and provoke no particular sensation. You might as well be stroking along your thigh or your cheek. Pleasant, but not nearly as erogenous as it should be. Drawing your hand higher, you rub over the taut surface of your udder - and nearly drop the platter of macarons with a gasp - which the mask takes as an opportunity to fill your mouth with warm, gooey apple crumble. You steady yourself and hurry up the last few steps, spooked. Your udder appears to have inherited all the sensations your nullified crotch has lost. No wonder it felt so good to be milked - and while that revelation mostly galvanizes your determination to make a big score and get out fast, part of you yearns to feel that way again...](else-if: $bridled is true)[Despite your best attempts to hurry, you have to take the stairs slowly, placing your hooves carefully and jostling your plug as little as you can. Your cock drools precome on every step and begs for attention. Halfway up the stairs, you give in and lean against the wall, wrapping a hand around your gargantuan length - you can barely circle your fingers around it. You stroke yourself frantically to completion, determined to waste as little time as possible... and although the messy orgasm does clear your head a little, your cock is back at full mast within a few steps, insistent as ever. You aren't even sure which of your several mingled curses is giving you this kind of stamina, but you curse it heartily - never mind that part of you yearns to slow down and really test the new equipment out...](else:)[Despite your best intentions to hurry, you pause to take a rest halfway up the landing, swallowing a luxurious mouthful of chocolate ganache, then another of vanilla pudding, as you lean dizzily against the wall. With every step, your gut wobbles, your ass, your chest, your thighs... you're turning into a real doughball under this constant assault. You think longingly of the light, healthy meals you're going to eat when you get out of this curse-filled mansion. You could really, really go for a salad. Well, maybe just a *little* more cake...] [[You emerge into an upstairs hallway.->Upstairs]]

Two doors on the right, one on the left. Neither of the right-side doors is your destination at the moment. You'd like to get your hands free before you go prowling around, and you don't want the Mistress of the house to come looking for her snack - you've already delayed too much. You push open the door to your left, cautiously. A powerfully corpulent winged lioness is dozing by a cozy fireplace in this warm, plushly furnished den. You set the plate of macarons on the table beside her and quietly creep back out, not wanting to be seen or challenged. She doesn't even look up. Perfect! Now, door number one or door number two? The first is a single door, one that's on the narrower side; the second is an double door wreathed in elaborate scrollwork. [[Try the narrow door.]] [[Try the double doors.]]

It's good to be thorough - and if you don't check behind this door now, the way you're plumping up, you might never get the chance! With that thought as motivation, you push the door open and stride through - well, squeeze through, (if: $bridled is true)[sensitive cockhead brushing the doorframe and nearly driving you wild,](else-if: $bellychainworn is true)[sensitive udder brushing the doorframe and nearly driving you wild,] your stomach gurgling and expanding even as you struggle. You manage to pop yourself free, but you don't think you're getting out that way... and as you look around, your heart sinks. The gamble didn't even pay off; this is a narrow closet of cleaning supplies, with no other exit. Are you going to be trapped here, filled with delicacies and sweets until you can't even move, let alone leave by the door? (if: $bridled is true)[What will they do, convert it to a stable? Oh, that shouldn't sound as appealing as it does...](else-if: $bellychainworn is true)[What will they do, convert it to a milking stall? Oh, that shouldn't sound as appealing as it does...] You aren't willing to give up yet. Among the mops and buckets is a spare maid's uniform, large enough that it ought to fit even you - and it includes a corset. If you can just cinch your waist tightly enough, you might still have a way out of here - and you'll look even more like you fit in. You can do this. No time to lose. You slip into the corset and begin lacing it up, hands a bit shaky. (if: $bridled is true)[Your titanic cock and balls stand out proudly, unconstrained... well, it'll still be better than nothing.](else-if: $bellychainworn is true)[Your udder spills out the bottom, unconstrained... well, it'll still be better than nothing.] There's a tickle at the back of your skull, which perhaps you should have taken as a warning... You give the laces a good, hard yank, and feel the corset's pressure echoed in the new constraints around your mind. You are ~~a thief~~ an obedient maid. You came to this mansion ~~to steal~~ to serve. You want ~~to escape~~ to eat, to grow, to be a good, round, soft, obedient maid... The laces are still half-slack. You struggle against the hypnotic effect a moment longer, (if:$bridled is false)[chewing on a mouthful of distractingly delicious cherry pie.](else:)[drooling mindlessly around your bridle gag.] You need to get out of this trap, before - Someone behind you claps their hands together excitedly. "New maid!" a perky voice exclaims. "Oh, how exciting! Kassie will help you with your uniform and show you what to do, okay?" They cozy up to you in the tight space - even more handsy than the close quarters strictly require, stealing the opportunity to grab a handful of (if: $bridled is true)[your heavy balls](else-if: $bellychainworn is true)[your taut, sensitive udder](else:)[your plump ass]. A kobold like yourself, wearing a uniform like yours - the corset exaggerating their jiggly breasts and hips, and constraining their massive waist only with great effort. They gently take the laces from your hands, then give them a mighty yank, clamping down hard on what tiny, struggling vestiges of an independent mind remained to you. The last wistful original thought that crosses your mind is that your cursed waistline is still expanding, and perhaps the laces will eventually pop and set you free... but as (if:$bridled is false)[you swallow your latest mouthful of fudgy brownie](else:)[another gush of thick fluid fills your bowels], your corset adjusts itself to clamp down tighter on your gurgling, expanding stomach, and the thought fades. You are an obedient maid. You came to this mansion to serve. Serving means cleaning, bringing your Mistress's meals, pleasuring her, (if:$bridled is true or $bellychainworn is true)[being milked], following orders, and eating, always eating, striving to become bigger, softer, and fatter for Mistress. No other life could make you happier. (text-style:"shadow")[Ending: Maid](set:$maidending to true) (display: "Endings") Inventory: (text-style:"shadow")[Uniform of Obedience] Wearer's thoughts are constrained proportionate to the tightness of corset's lacing. The tighter the laces, the more obedient the servant inside becomes. Secondary enchantments ensure the corset is able to hold up to even the most expansive waistlines, and, in fact, it automatically tightens further to compensate when its wearer gains weight, reinforcing its primary effect. (text-style: "shadow")[Amulet of Cursed Digestion] Speeds the action of the stomach unnaturally, cursing the victim with insatiable hunger. Food consumed is rapidly converted to fat. The amulet cannot be removed by its wearer. (if:$bridled is true)[(text-style:"shadow")[Glutton's Bridle] Disguises itself as food, then fastens onto the victim who bites into it. The wearer gradually transforms into a stallion, beginning at the feet and gradually proceeding upwards. The bridle cannot be removed by its wearer. (text-style:"shadow")[Plug of Eternal Lubrication] A metal plug with basic enchantments for the comfort of the wearer, which ensure it can be inserted and worn safely long-term even by the less experienced. When the base is tapped to activate its effect, generates olive oil to lubricate its passage. Remember to deactivate once inserted, unless the enema-like effect is desired.](else:)[(text-style:"shadow")[Mask of the Insatiable] A cloth mask which fills the wearer's mouth with conjured sweets any time it is empty. The foods are randomly chosen. The victim is prevented from choking. Cannot be removed by its wearer.] (if:$bellychainworn is true)[(text-style:"shadow")[Belly Chain of Galactic Lactation] Removes the wearer's original genitals, leaving their crotch featureless and sensation heavily muted. Erogenous sensitivity transfers to the wearer's new udder, particularly when milked.] [[Restart?->Begin.]]

No sense wasting time on the smaller door, not in your current state. The good stuff is going to be behind the fancy ones, that's just logical. You step through into the jackpot - a library, but a lavishly decorated one, walls hung with paintings, shelves punctuated by display cases of statuettes and gemstones. You gleefully contemplate your options. The paintings, Rubenesque nudes in oil, are far too audacious for your current state. The books themselves look antique enough to potentially be worth something, although on a quick browse many of them seem to be cookbooks. Both of those will wait until another day and a dedicated buyer lined up, now that you know the way in. The statuettes depicting stylized voluptuously rotund bodies will likely be worth the most as a set. Jewels, that's the only real option for today. You take out your tools and go to work on the nearest case, which holds an extravagant ruby ring with a golden band. Easy, steady, no sense losing it all now. Get in, get out, fence the ring, find a decent cursebreaker, shouldn't be hard to find a horny buyer for the cursed stuff too. You're so close you can taste it, even over the (if:$bridled is false)[blackberry tart the mask is currently cramming into your mouth...](else:)[hot, salty smell of the virile semen currently drooling from your cock...] Absentmindedly, you slip the ring onto your finger and look around for anything else worth quickly snatching, or at least noting for a future trip. Your body feels heavier than before. Not the fault of the curse (if:$bridled is false)[stuffing you with chantilly cake](else:)[stuffing your ass with mystery fluid] - alarmingly heavy, in a new way. Sluggish. Hard to think. Your hand catches the light when you hold it up to admire your ruby prize. Shiny gold, spreading over your skin. [[Like your ring.]]

A kobold like yourself, who would clearly be almost a match for your voluptuous shape if not for the corset of their maid uniform keeping their waist just barely contained, plants their hands on their formidable hips when they find you sprawled in the library aisles. "Silly, greedy thief! Just look at you! Making extra work for Kassie!" You mumble a vague apology through (if:$bridled is false)[sticky salted caramel, so thick your tired jaw can barely chew it.](else:)[the heavy bridle whose straps are digging into your pudgy cheeks.] Kassie shakes their head. "Kassie doesn't want to wake Mistress for this... will you do a favor for Kassie, thief? Little favor, then Kassie takes your curses off, thief is free to go. Okay?" You nod dully. What choice do you have? Kassie helps you crawl to the back of the library and directs you to kneel in an empty wall niche, insisting that you sit up straight. You do your best, too sluggish and heavy to question what kind of favor this could possibly be. Kassie fusses over you, posing you to their satisfaction, then smiles and kisses your cheek. (if:$bridled is false)["Perfect! Here you go, stupid thief - just like Kassie said." They begin working the ruby ring off of your pudgy finger, and a tingle runs through your golden flesh as it begins to slide free. The sensation feels incredible, like the prelude to an orgasm - building, cresting over you - The ring slips off your finger, and rather than returning to its original color, your flesh petrifies into immobility, freezing you perfectly on the edge. Unsurprised, Kassie bustles around you, pulling your clothing, the necklace, the cloth mask, (if:$bellychainworn is true)[and the belly chain] free from the statue you've become, leaving nothing to obscure your smooth, golden curves. "Promise, promise! All gone, thief is free to go now," they smirk, patting you on the round, shining (if:$bellychainworn is true)[udder](else:)[belly].](else:)["Hmm, let's see..." The ring has fused itself into the surface of your golden hoof, but as Kassie prods and wiggles at it, it shifts just a touch. "Silly pony, got your curses all mixed up," they complain, tugging more forcefully. Something about the sensation of the ring being pulled free - slowly, as if through an unbelievably thick and viscous liquid - goes straight to your cock, going rock-hard as you clench around your plug. You moan aloud as the ring shifts centimeter by centimeter, the phantom pleasure building with every moment. Your enormous stallion's cock throbs, your hefty balls tighten - you're right on the verge of - The ring slips free, your hoof reforming cleanly around it, and rather than returning to an organic color, your flesh petrifies into immobility. You're frozen in the climax of a titanic orgasm, head thrown back, a shining rope of golden cum hanging in the air, the pleasure stretching impossibily into eternity. "Oooh, thieves should mix curses more often," Kassie coos, smugly, bustling around you to pull your clothing, the necklace, and the bridle free from the statue you've become, leaving nothing to obscure your golden ecstasy. The buttplug remains behind inside your ass. You can't tell if it's gone dormant in the face of stronger magic, or if you're going to eternally leak magical lubrication... "Promise, promise! All gone, thief is free to go now," they smirk, stroking admiringly up and down your shining, frozen cock.] "Oh, you want to stay? Tch, extra work for Kassie. Kassie will see you when it is time for dusting, then. And polishing! You will *like* polishing. Too good for greedy thieves, but at least Mistress will like having a new, pretty statue. Enjoy yourself, silly statue!" And you do... oh, you do. (text-style:"shadow")[Ending: Gold](set:$goldending to true) (display: "Endings") Inventory: (text-style:"shadow")[Curse of Midas's Ring] When worn, converts the victim's flesh to living gold. In this state, the wearer quickly becomes sluggish and has difficulty thinking clearly, but is still animate and able to move. As the ring moves across their skin, the victim experiences euphoria and sexual pleasure. Once it is no longer in contact with their flesh, they become an immobile statue, consciousness frozen in the moment of the ring's removal - typically, a deeply blissful state. (if:$bridled is true)[(text-style:"shadow")[Curse of the Glutton's Bridle] Disguises itself as food, then fastens onto the victim who bites into it. The wearer gradually transforms into a stallion, beginning at the feet and gradually proceeding upwards. The bridle cannot be removed by its wearer. (text-style:"shadow")[Plug of Eternal Lubrication] A metal plug with basic enchantments for the comfort of the wearer, which ensure it can be inserted and worn safely long-term even by the less experienced. When the base is tapped to activate its effect, generates olive oil to lubricate its passage. Remember to deactivate once inserted, unless the enema-like effect is desired.] (if:$bellychainworn is true)[(text-style:"shadow")[Curse of Galactic Lactation] Removes the wearer's original genitals, leaving their crotch featureless and sensation heavily muted. Erogenous sensitivity transfers to the wearer's new udder, particularly when milked.] [[Restart?->Begin.]]

Endings found: (if: $cakeending is true)[★](else:)[☆](if: $milkending is true)[★](else:)[☆](if: $voreending is true)[★](else:)[☆](if: $maidending is true)[★](else:)[☆](if: $goldending is true)[★](else:)[☆]