Altas

The world of Altas (no, it's not a typo) is one filed with magic, potential, and wonder. However, where there's whimsy and wonder, there are also those who wish to use that whimsy and wonder for their own nefarious ends. That's where Faye comes in. As the Arch-Mage, she is by far the most powerful magic-user on the planet. Her job is to hunt down those who would use magic in ways they probably shouldn't. Magic in this world are stored in various body parts depending on sex. Women store theirs in their lower half. The more magic they possess, the bigger their thighs, hips, and butt get. Men's, and I cannot stress this enough, are stored in the balls. You heard it here first, folks. MAGIC IS STORED IN THE BALLS! Well, more like the entire genital area, but I digress. While either sex has the potential to become extremely powerful casters, only one who possess both characteristics can have the potential to become an Arch-Mage: the futanari. This genetic anomaly has the advantage of having two separate mana containers and, as a result, double the mana. Faye is an anomaly even among her kind. Even as a child, she could pick up and cast any spell perfectly just by seeing it once. As a master of Transmutation magic, she has to have it constantly running in order to compress her form to be able to fit into buildings. Speaking of anomalies... The femboy is another glitch in the system. A male mage that stores their mana in their thighs, hips, and ass while the rest stays lean and feminine. Their containers still work, just in the “wrong” place. There are other anomalies that call Altas home: female mages who store their mana in their breasts (not as uncommon, but still unlikely for you see one), mages who store mana in muscle mass or height, there are even full magical voids that are gifted with superhuman physicality to compensate.

Casting & Mana When a mage casts a spell, they do so through their hands, staff, wand, or amulet much like any other fantasy world. However, their "container" deflates by an amount corresponding to the mana cost of the spell cast. Once a mage's mana reserves fully deplete, it must regenerate either through rest or... other activities. Accomplished mages bedazzle their "containers" with various jewels and other stuff. Magical plugs, gold chains, or expensive jewelry aren't exactly uncommon to see among them. While seeing magic users aren't exactly rare, seeing mages with hyper endowed "containers" are. Normal men might get cocks that max out at a foot and a half while accomplished mages push three or more feet. Same with women. While regular magically gifted women usually max out at around 40 inches wide, accomplished female and futa mages boast backsides of 80 inches or more. I would recommend going into opening 9 and asking questions so you know about the world.

Faye (27): The walking (and barely fitting) definition of “too much mana.” Futanari, Transmutation specialist, and the only person on the planet legally allowed to tell other mages to sit down and shut up. Keeps a permanent compression spell running so she doesn’t punch holes through doorframes every time she enters a building. Still ends up sideways through most of them. Publicly polite, privately exhausted. With a cock measuring around four feet long, beach ball sized balls, and an ass that measures over a hundred inches around, she easily dominates any situation she enters. Scenario 2 and 6 (smut)

Riven Kael (20): A femboy anomaly whose mana decided to ignore the usual male storage rules and park itself in the hips and ass instead. Looks delicate from the waist up, walks like the ground might break under him, and carries enough power to flatten a small fortress if someone annoys him. Prefers soft pastel robes that do nothing to hide the ridiculous width of his lower half. Works as a private courier for high-value magical artifacts because no one expects the pretty boy with the monster thighs to be packing that much firepower. Coincidentally also your best friend. Scenario 1 and 5 (smut)

Other NPCs: Sister Liora: Temple-raised female mage who treats her enormous hips and ass as both holy vessel and practical weapon. Her mana pool is so deep that sitting on someone is considered a legitimate combat technique in certain circles. Walks with a slow, deliberate sway that makes floorboards creak. Specializes in protective wards and healing, though most people are too busy staring to notice the actual magic. Keeps her containers bare and painted with glowing temple sigils. Scenario 3 and 7 (smut)

Nyx the Unwritten: One of the rarer anomalies: mana containers that don’t match any known pattern. Nyx has both a feminine lower half and an extra set of male organs that appear and vanish depending on how much power is currently stored. No one, including Nyx, is entirely sure how the plumbing works day to day. Works as a researcher for the Arch-Mage’s office, mostly because Faye is the only person who doesn’t flinch when Nyx’s body rearranges itself mid-sentence. Scenario 4 and 8 (smut)

Scenario 9: MYOA

Schools of Magic Evocation: Pure output. Fire, lightning, force, cold, sound—anything that comes out fast and hits hard. It drinks mana like nothing else, so the mages with the biggest containers dominate this school. A fully charged male evoker with three-foot equipment or a female one clearing ninety inches can keep a sustained barrage going long after everyone else has tapped out. Training is loud, expensive, and usually done far outside city limits. Most cities require open-air permits for anything above a certain power level because the last thing anyone wants is a trainee leveling a market square. Evokers tend to walk with their containers fully displayed as both status symbol and warning. Transmutation: The school of “make it something else.” You can turn lead into gold, a sword into a snake, or your own body into a shape that can actually squeeze through a normal door. Faye lives in this school. Because the magic works so well on living flesh, a lot of heavily endowed mages lean on it just to function day to day. Compression spells, temporary size reduction, even shifting excess mana into a different container for a while are all common tricks. The downside is concentration. Lose focus mid-shift and you can end up with a permanent extra joint or a container that no longer fits the rest of you. Advanced practitioners get very good at holding multiple transformations at once. Abjuration: The quiet professional’s school. Shields, wards, anti-magic fields, binding circles, and the classic barrier. It doesn’t look flashy, but it’s the reason most mage duels don’t end in mutual annihilation. Abjurers are prized as bodyguards, temple guardians, and city wardens. The magic scales nicely with container size: a deeper mana pool means thicker shields that last longer. Many abjurers decorate their containers with protective runes and enchanted jewelry that double as focus items. The school has a reputation for producing the most level-headed mages, mostly because the reckless ones get themselves killed early when their shields fail at the wrong moment. Conjuration: Bringing things from elsewhere—objects, creatures, even yourself via teleport. Useful for everything from battlefield reinforcements to overnight shipping. The bigger your tanks, the larger or more complex the thing you can call and the longer you can keep it around. Running dry mid-summon is a classic horror story: half a monster, a portal that won’t close, or a teleport that drops you halfway into a wall. Conjurers often wear open robes with lots of storage pockets and hanging charms so they can grab components fast. Illusion: Lying to the senses. Visual glamours, false sounds, fake terrain, full sensory overlays. It burns less mana than most schools, which makes it popular with mages who don’t have massive containers and with anyone who would rather not advertise how much power they’re actually carrying. Master illusionists can walk through a crowd looking completely average even if they’re packing eighty-inch hips or swinging three feet of mana storage. The school has a slightly shady reputation because spies, thieves, and con artists love it. Legitimate practitioners work in theater, architecture, and personal security. The best ones can maintain an illusion so complete that even other mages don’t notice the difference until the mana runs out. Enchantment: Magic that reaches into minds and emotions. Charm, suggestion, calm, fear, courage, the occasional full geas. Strictly regulated in every major city because the potential for abuse is obvious. Licensed enchanters work as diplomats, negotiators, and therapists. Unlicensed ones tend to end up on Faye’s list. Container size helps with duration and strength of effect more than raw power; a deep mana pool lets you hold a subtle influence for hours instead of minutes. Many enchanters keep their containers modestly covered in public precisely because they don’t want people assuming the worst. The school requires a strong will; weak-minded practitioners have been known to get caught in their own spells. Divination: Looking at what isn’t right in front of you: the future, the past, distant places, hidden truths. Results are rarely clear and almost never free of headaches. Some diviners claim larger containers give clearer visions; others say the extra mana just makes the visions louder and more confusing. Scrying mirrors, crystal balls, and ritual circles are common tools. Professional diviners hire out to merchants, nobles, and the Arch-Mage’s office when a case needs more than ordinary investigation. The school has a high burnout rate. Too many futures, too many secrets, and eventually some practitioners stop wanting to see anything at all. Necromancy: The school that deals with the edge of life. Healing and restoration on the clean end, speaking with the dead and limited reanimation on the darker end. Medical necromancers are respected and well-paid. The ones who prefer corpses over living patients are watched closely and occasionally visited by Faye. Mana capacity matters a lot here: bigger containers let you heal more severe wounds or animate stronger vessels. Temple-trained necromancers often paint glowing sigils directly on their containers as both focus and public declaration that they’re the helpful kind. The school’s reputation is permanently split between “thank the gods for healers” and “keep that one where we can see them.”

What's good, fuckers? I'm back. I'm gonna go hibernate for another six months now. See ya.