"Communion" of FAT Gardevoirs

The place where these Gardevoirs hold their orgies is a hidden clearing deep within the forest, far from paths and curious eyes. Tall, leafy trees form a natural ceiling, filtering sunlight into soft beams that illuminate the figures of the Gardevoirs as they move and intertwine. The ground is firm yet yields slightly beneath the weight of their massive bodies, covered in leaves, moss, and fallen branches, muffling the sounds of their movements and moans, creating an atmosphere of absolute privacy for their acts.

1: Your eyes barely adjust before the sudden weight slams the air from your lungs. Two Gardevoirs, their bodies heavy, soft, and warm, pounce onto you before you can react. Their flesh presses into your chest as their plump, trembling hands slide down toward your waist. One tugs at your belt, the other fiddles clumsily with your zipper, while sharp, breathless moans escape their throats—your resistance only seems to excite them further

“L-ladies, wait!-” you gasp, your voice cracking with nerves “No, no, no—calm down, please!”

They don’t understand your words, but your tone only spurs them on. A wet giggle bursts out as wheezes and rough squeals, their pudgy fingers shaking harder against the zipper’s metal. You writhe beneath their weight, desperate to break free, but it’s like being trapped beneath a living mattress

“Come on, seriously! This isn’t funny!” you protest, yanking your pants upward with all your strength, as if the fabric were the last wall holding back an impossible siege

Around you, the scene continues unabated. Other Gardevoirs, even fatter, remain tangled together in clumsy, sluggish motions, their bellies colliding with wet smacks, filling the clearing with gasps, moans, and even thunderous farts that blend seamlessly into the chaotic ritual. From the center of the circle, the largest ones, the immobile Blobs of flesh, watch you. Their half-lidded eyes glisten with a wet shine, blinking slowly with an air that feels equal parts judgment and arousal. They do nothing… only observe, like obese queens reveling in the spectacle

The two pinning you down persist. One manages to tug the zipper open a few inches, tearing a grunt of despair from your throat

“Seriously, stop! PLEASE CALM DOWN!” you shout, your voice breaking with a hint of fear, rising in pitch as your arms thrash desperately to keep yourself covered

But their soft, panting, obstinate hands do not listen to reason

2: The heat of the clearing seemed to thicken with every breath, as if the very air were saturated with the desire of those overflowing Gardevoirs. Some swayed against each other, rubbing their flesh in a disordered choreography, while others simply lay on their immense bellies, moaning and panting with shining eyes, enjoying the spectacle and the chaos around them

You, still with your heart pounding after the fall, swallow hard. The instinct of a trainer-hunter mixes with something much more primal. Your eyes linger on an obese Gardevoir barely holding herself upright, her thighs trembling under her own weight, her arms sinking into soft folds that seemed to swallow them whole. She stares straight at you, her breathing wet and broken, as though she had been waiting for you

With a nervous snort and a clumsy half-smile, you take a step toward her as your hands move to the zipper of your pants “Well… not exactly what I imagined, but… if I can mate with a Pokémon… this is the chance of a lifetime” you mutter, half in disbelief at what you’re saying, half convinced this moment will never come again

Your fingers tremble a little, but you still push your pants down to your ankles, stumbling over them as you step forward. Your footsteps are heavy, awkward, almost comedic; the whole clearing seems to be watching you, with a chorus of gasps and moans filling the air

The obese Gardevoir slightly opens her arms, and you lose balance, without much grace, you fall on top of her. Her body gives way beneath your clumsiness, the ground groaning and quaking as she hits her back, as if the earth itself had trembled for a second. Your hands sink into her soft, warm, pulsing flesh, as if her body were molding itself to trap you

You breathe deeply, your face just inches from hers. Her gaze is fogged with lust, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted, letting out a prolonged moan that sends shivers up your spine “Oh, Arceus… this is insane… but… if anyone asks, I’ll just say it was all part of research” you stammer with a nervous attempt at humor, your voice drowned out by the internal roar of adrenaline

Around you, other Gardevoirs continue their erotic dance; the smaller ones play between the folds of the larger, while the Blobs remain still, watching you with glowing, hungry eyes, trembling in a mixture of excitement and anticipation

Meanwhile, you are already ready, feeling the pressure of that immense body beneath yours, trapped in a situation you could never have imagined when you first heard the forest’s legend

3: The forest’s heat now feels like a damp blanket wrapped around you, mixed with the suffocating intensity of the scene before your eyes. The foliage shakes with the deep moans and high-pitched squeals of the Gardevoirs, each lost in their insatiable frenzy. You, however, are no longer as unsettled as before. Sitting on a firm, cushioned bush, you’ve ended up reclined with your arms behind your head, as if indulging in a grotesquely intimate private show

In your lap, three obese Gardevoirs are so squashed together they seem to form a single mass, like a soft, warm mattress writhing with desire on top of you. Their bellies bounce, their flesh compresses against your legs, and their wet, needy moans echo with every movement. You can barely tell where one begins and the other ends: together, they’re a sticky, delicious heap of skin, flesh, and desire

Your gaze drifts calmly across the clearing. It’s not that you ignore it—it’s that you’ve grown used to the chaos. To one side, several Gardevoirs clumsily climb onto one of the giant Blobs, sinking into her flesh like children on a hill of living pillows. Others roll across the ground, bellies colliding, lost in muffled laughter, thunderous flatulence, and guttural gasps. And most curious of all, you notice silently: with every passing minute, their bodies seem to swell, fatten, inflate a little more, as if each thrust, each gulp, each touch made them expand. But you only smile with a tired, satisfied sigh

“Well, well…!" you murmur with a sly tone, tilting your head back "I guess… I could get used to this kind of welcome.”

The three on your lap moan in unison, as if they understood, as if your teasing only fueled their hunger further. Their soft bellies press against you with anxious movements. One of them lets out a long sound, a nearly pitiful moan, while another glances at you briefly with glassy eyes before burying her face once more in your waist “Easy, easy…" you chuckle ironically, closing your eyes for a moment, as if lounging in a hammock "No need for everyone to fight for the gold medal… you’ve already got my attention, trust me.” they return to their sucking, eager and relentless

The entire forest seems to breathe in rhythm with that wild bacchanal, while you let yourself go, surrounded by bodies that never stop swelling, never stop moaning… and never get enough

4: The air in that hidden clearing is already thick with a heavy, stifling heat. Minutes—or maybe hours, you’ve lost track—have passed since you fell into that wild “communion.” Your muscles burn, your lungs beg for relief, yet your body continues to answer every demand of the gardevoirs encircling you, claiming you, draining your strength as if you were just another piece of their endless ritual

Now you find yourself pressed against an immense gardevoir, so swollen and overloaded with flesh that she barely resembles what she once was. Her round, monumental belly serves as the surface where she rests immobile, her arms and legs vanished beneath mounds of soft folds, reduced to barely visible stumps. Her deep, trembling moans, broken by panting, set the rhythm as you thrust with the last reserves of your strength

Your hips slam into her over and over, each impact resounding with a wet smack within her smothering flesh. Your hands dig into her folds, searching for something to hold onto, and you can’t contain the guttural groan that escapes your throat

Suddenly, another gardevoir—this one obese but still mobile enough to crawl toward you—kneels at your side. Her eyes blaze with feverish desire, and without warning, she leans into you. Her mouth presses against yours, wet and desperate, and her tongue invades with playful force. The kiss is deep, shameless, charged with the hunger they all share. Between thrust and kiss, you can barely breathe “Nngh… damn it…” you pant, sweat pouring down your back “I’m exhausted… but not beaten… is that all you’ve got?”

The gardevoir kissing you answers with a vibrating, wet moan, her lips devouring you more hungrily. The other,the near-Blob, quivers with every one of your thrusts, her belly rippling like an ocean of unrestrained flesh. Around you, the scene grows even more grotesque and fascinating: several gardevoirs that had once been “just” obese now show signs of transition, swelling larger, losing limbs beneath bellies inflating like living balloons of fat

The clearing becomes a chorus of moans, groans, and wet, slapping sounds surrounding you, as if you were trapped in the center of a tribal circle where your exhaustion and endurance serve as the main spectacle “Come on… come on…” you gasp, teeth clenched as you continue “Don’t think I’m stopping now… even if you drain the breath from me, I’ll still be standing…”

Your words drown in the noises of the forest and their ragged breathing, but the hunger on their faces makes it clear they understand: there’s still plenty of you left to devour, to squeeze dry

5: The forest itself seems to have surrendered beneath the weight of these creatures. What were once voluptuous, overflowing bodies have now become vast oceans of quivering flesh. None stand under two meters tall, and their forms no longer resemble a typical gardevoir; instead, they are immense masses—some lying on their backs with bellies rising to the sky, others propped up as though their stomachs were natural thrones, and many warped beyond recognition into seas of trembling fat

Your steps sink into dry leaves and fallen branches, but the sounds of the forest are drowned out by the grotesque chorus of wet burps and sputtering farts emanating from the giants around you. Their heavy moans and throaty sighs vibrate through the air as if the entire clearing itself were alive

You stop, taking in the sight with dry irony “Well… what the hell is this supposed to be?” you mutter, rubbing the back of your neck “From secret sanctuary to a living buffet of wheezing Blobs… And here I am, wandering around like a lost tourist.”

One gardevoir, sprawled belly-up, unwittingly exposes herself between the folds of her monumental gut. The heat radiating from her body slams into you, and almost without thinking, you lean over her “Well, no point wasting the view, right?” you chuckle nervously, as your hand slips between the soft flesh, exploring

The gardevoir moans deeply, arching as much as her bulk allows, a burp escaping her slack mouth. The others react in chain: some quiver with groans, others tremble in their blobby masses, until the air fills with a chorus of wet sounds, farts exploding thunderously through the undergrowth

“Holy hell…” you murmur, pressing your lips to the warm, sweaty skin of another gardevoir lying face-down, barely lifting her head to meet you with glowing eyes “This isn’t even an adventure anymore… feels more like a circus…”

Your movements take on a near-playful rhythm, thrusting shamelessly, exploiting the massive stillness of the beasts collapsed beneath their own weight. Each reacts differently: some jiggle like jelly, others expel air in noisy bursts, and all of them, without exception, moan in a wordless language of raw hunger

You stride among them with a half-smile, surrounded by groans, gasps, and thunderous eruptions “Well, ladies… I think this expedition has surpassed my expectations.”

The clearing answers like a living echo—a sea of Blob gardevoirs reminding you that, though monstrous and warped by their own excesses, they are still ravenous for you, and for everything you have left to give

6: The air in the clearing is thick, saturated with the humid heat of so many bodies pressed together and the musky scent that already clings to your throat. You can barely keep the pace, your muscles burning from the strain, but the sight before you, those immense Blobs, trembling with each of your thrusts as if they were living masses of jelly, won’t let you stop

Every movement you make sends waves rolling across their folds, shaking their colossal bellies and tearing from them a chorus of moans and wet cries that fill the forest. The very ground seems to vibrate beneath you, as if nature itself echoed the carnal communion

Your breath comes ragged, gasping, and still you choose not to give in “I don’t care if it drains me dry… I’m going to take them all” you mutter through clenched teeth, nearly delirious from the mix of exhaustion and arousal. One after another, you throw yourself onto their exposed parts, driving in with the little energy you still have left

Each contact is a trial: their soft flesh engulfs you, traps you, and at the same time shudders beneath the violence of your thrusts, as if it were responding on its own. They, unable to speak, can only answer with a chorus of animal sounds, a chaotic symphony of pleasure, hunger, and need

The smell permeates everything: a heavy, musky perfume that clouds your head to the point of dizziness. You feel yourself at the edge of collapse, yet inside you beats the stubborn certainty that none of them will be left without tasting you