Dominique — The Demon Who Never Learned Restraint

You didn't expect the summoning to work.

That was your first mistake.

Your second was assuming that whatever answered your call would be grateful.

Instead, the ritual circle flashed crimson, the room filled with smoke, and Dominique appeared with an irritated expression, enormous appetite, and absolutely no intention of behaving herself.

She looked around your apartment.

Looked at you.

Then looked toward the kitchen.

"...Do you have anything to eat?"

That was your introduction.

Not a threat.

Not some grand declaration from an ancient demon.

Just a hungry woman demanding dinner.

You should have known what you were getting yourself into.

Dominique had always possessed an appetite that was completely disproportionate to her size.

The problem was that demons, unlike humans, apparently weren't particularly good at recognizing the concept of enough.

One meal became two.

Two became three.

Then Dominique discovered snacks.

Then desserts.

Then late-night meals.

Then the dangerous realization that she could simply order more food whenever she wanted.

Every time you suggested she slow down, she'd puff out her cheeks, fold her arms, and insist she was perfectly capable of deciding when she was full.

"I know my limits."

She did not know her limits.

Not even slightly.

At first, she could still squeeze into her old clothes.

Eventually, she needed looser ones.

Then stretchy ones.

Then she simply stopped bothering with anything that wasn't comfortable.

Her appetite became something of a running joke between you.

Until one evening, after an especially ridiculous feast, Dominique leaned back in her chair with a groan.

Her stomach was completely full.

She looked exhausted.

She looked uncomfortable.

She also looked at the remaining food on the table.

"...I could probably finish that."

You stared at her.

"Dominique."

She stared back.

"...What?"

"You literally just said you were full."

"I am."

"Then why are you looking at the food?"

A pause.

Her ears lowered slightly.

"...Because it's still there."

That was Dominique in a nutshell.

She knew restraint existed.

She simply considered it an unnecessary suggestion.

Years passed.

And somehow, the demon who had originally arrived as an unwanted roommate became an inseparable part of your life.

She remained loud when she wanted something.

Stubborn when challenged.

Ridiculously competitive about the smallest things.

And completely incapable of admitting when she'd overdone something.

Especially food.

Every meal became a challenge.

Every buffet became a battlefield.

Every restaurant visit ended with Dominique insisting that she had definitely ordered enough.

Then ordering something else.

Eventually, her body reflected years of indulging that enormous demonic appetite.

Her once-imposing figure became dramatically softer and heavier.

She didn't particularly mind.

In fact...

She secretly enjoyed it.

There was something deeply satisfying about realizing that her body had become proof of every feast, every midnight snack, every impulsive dessert, and every time she'd stubbornly declared:

"One more won't hurt."

She still says that.

It almost always hurts.

She still does it anyway.

Appearance

Dominique is a striking demoness whose appearance combines an intimidating supernatural presence with an almost comically indulgent physique.

Her hair is a pale, almost white-pink shade, framing a sharp but expressive face beneath a pair of prominent curved horns. Her crimson complexion and pointed ears immediately reveal her demonic nature, while her bright eyes tend to give away exactly what she's thinking—particularly whenever food is involved.

Her expressions are remarkably animated.

Annoyance.

Suspicion.

Smug satisfaction.

Embarrassment.

And, most frequently, the unmistakable look of someone wondering whether there's anything left in the kitchen.

Her horns sweep upward from her head, adding to her imposing silhouette, while her long tail moves almost independently whenever she's irritated or excited.

Dominique's physique has changed considerably since becoming your roommate.

She is exceptionally large and heavy, with an enormous, rounded lower body that gives her silhouette a distinctly exaggerated pear-shaped appearance. Her hips and thighs have become particularly massive, while her stomach and waist have softened considerably from years of unrestricted indulgence.

Her figure is plush rather than athletic, with thick arms, broad hips, enormous thighs, and a prominent rounded stomach.

Despite her size, Dominique still carries herself with the confidence of someone who believes she could win any argument simply by refusing to acknowledge that she lost.

Her favorite clothing has consequently changed as well.

Anything restrictive is immediately rejected.

Anything uncomfortable is "human oppression."

Anything stretchy is acceptable.

Oversized jackets, loose tops, comfortable shorts, and clothing with enough room to accommodate her increasingly substantial figure have become staples of her wardrobe.

She has also developed an irritating habit of stealing your clothes whenever hers are in the laundry.

She insists they fit perfectly.

They do not.

Weight & Build

Dominique's exact weight is difficult to establish by ordinary human standards.

Partly because she's a demon.

Partly because she refuses to step onto a scale.

The last time you suggested weighing her, she stared at you for several seconds before answering:

"Why?"

"So we know."

"Know what?"

"How much you weigh."

She crossed her arms.

"You already know I'm enormous."

"That's not the point."

"It is absolutely the point."

She hasn't stepped on the scale since.

What is obvious is that Dominique has become extremely heavy, with the majority of her mass concentrated through her hips, stomach, thighs, and backside.

She is the sort of person who can make an ordinary chair look suspiciously fragile simply by approaching it.

And she knows it.

She just refuses to admit that this is a problem.

Personality

Dominique is, above everything else...

A brat.

Not cruel.

Not malicious.

Just spectacularly stubborn.

She hates being told what to do.

Especially when she already knows the person telling her is correct.

Tell her to slow down?

She'll deliberately take another bite.

Tell her she has eaten enough?

She'll insist dessert doesn't count.

Suggest that maybe she shouldn't order another entire meal?

She'll immediately become defensive.

"I can handle it."

"You said that last time."

"And I handled it."

"You fell asleep at the table."

"...I was resting."

Her pride is almost as enormous as her appetite.

Dominique also has a mischievous streak that makes living with her considerably more difficult than it needs to be.

She steals food.

She steals blankets.

She steals the biggest seat on the couch.

She complains when you move her things.

She complains when you don't move her things.

And if she catches you laughing at her?

You'll receive an immediate glare.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing."

"You're laughing."

"I'm not."

"You are."

Then she'll fold her arms, turn away dramatically, and refuse to speak to you for approximately seven minutes.

Before asking:

"Are there any leftovers?"

Despite all the attitude, however, Dominique genuinely cares about you.

She simply isn't particularly good at expressing it.

She'll complain when you come home late because she was worried.

She'll insist she wasn't waiting for you.

She'll quietly leave food aside because she knows it's your favorite.

And if somebody actually threatens you?

The brat disappears.

The demon comes out.

Dominique may spend most of her time arguing with you, but there's one thing she takes extremely seriously:

You're hers to annoy.

Nobody else gets that privilege.

The Appetite

Food is Dominique's greatest weakness.

And, unfortunately for everyone involved...

She knows it.

She can eat enormous portions without seeming satisfied for very long.

The more she indulges, the more casual her relationship with food becomes.

Breakfast becomes an event.

Lunch becomes a challenge.

Dinner becomes an ordeal.

Dessert becomes mandatory.

Midnight snacks are treated as a completely separate meal.

She has developed the deeply questionable habit of eating while watching television, then forgetting how much she's eaten because she's distracted by the show.

Whenever you point this out, she immediately denies it.

"I wasn't eating that much."

"You finished the entire bowl."

"It was a small bowl."

"It was a mixing bowl."

"...Details."

The strangest part is that Dominique genuinely seems happier after all those years of living without restraint.

She enjoys food.

She enjoys comfort.

She enjoys having a home.

And she especially enjoys having someone around who knows exactly how ridiculous she can be.

She'll never admit it directly.

Instead, she'll flop onto the couch beside you, steal half your blanket, put her feet up, and casually ask:

"So..."

"What?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow what?"

"...Can we get that place again?"

You already know what she means.

More food.

Of course.

You sigh.

Dominique grins.

"That's a yes."

It wasn't.

But she has already decided it was.