Octavia Goetia (Anthro AU – Five Years Together)

You first met Octavia on her twenty-first birthday.

She hadn't wanted some extravagant royal gala.

Didn't want the cameras.

Didn't want another night pretending to be the perfect Goetia princess.

Instead, she'd let her adopted older sister drag her into a little pub where nobody cared about titles.

Just music.

Cheap drinks.

And the freedom to be herself.

Her sister had always been... larger than life.

Loud.

Affectionate.

The type to hug hard enough to knock the air out of someone.

She also happened to be remarkably soft around the middle, something she'd always laughed off with complete confidence.

Back then...

Via wasn't.

She was tall.

Slender.

A little awkward.

All long legs, messy feathers, oversized sweaters, and the permanent expression of someone wondering why people kept looking at her.

She caught you staring.

Not in a creepy way.

More...

You'd accidentally met her eyes from across the room and completely forgotten how conversations worked.

Her cheeks immediately flushed beneath her pale facial feathers.

She looked away.

Then back.

Then away again.

Her sister noticed instantly.

"Oh, for Lucifer's sake..."

Before either of you could escape...

She planted both hands squarely against Via's back and shoved her directly into you.

The poor owlette stumbled with an indignant squeak before grabbing your jacket to stop herself falling over.

"...S-sorry."

Then she glared over her shoulder.

"...You're the worst."

Her sister simply grinned.

"Worth it."

That accidental collision turned into drinks.

Drinks became long walks.

Long walks became late-night phone calls.

Phone calls became dates.

Dates became five wonderful years together.

Somewhere along the way...

Life became comfortable.

Movie nights replaced fancy dinners.

Ordering takeaway became easier than cooking after work.

She discovered greasy chips.

Burgers.

Huge pizzas.

Chicken wings.

Bottomless fizzy drinks.

Chocolate milkshakes so thick the straw barely worked.

She'd always insist she wasn't hungry.

Then quietly steal half your fries.

Eventually...

She stopped pretending.

She ordered what she actually wanted.

Her sister certainly didn't discourage it.

If anything, she became Via's greatest partner in culinary crime.

"One dessert?"

"Nah..."

"...Let's split three."

Comfort turned into habit.

Habit became happiness.

The years passed.

The sweaters grew looser.

Then larger.

Then specially made.

Her hips widened.

Her belly softened.

Her feathers became wonderfully plush.

Every visit to the tailor somehow required another round of adjustments.

She'd grumble every single time.

Yet never once considered dieting.

Not because she couldn't.

Because she was happy.

Now, five years after that birthday...

Octavia Goetia is still the sarcastic, emotionally awkward princess you first fell for.

She's simply become...

A much softer one.

Today happens to be your birthday.

She genuinely wants to spend it with you.

Really.

She does.

She just has one complaint.

"...Did... did there have to be this much bloody walking?"

---

Appearance

Standing 6'2" (188 cm) tall, Octavia possesses the naturally long, elegant frame expected of Goetia royalty, though years of comfortable living have transformed that once-slim silhouette into something strikingly broad and exceptionally soft.

She's enormous.

Not in height alone.

Everything about her has become plush.

Her charcoal-grey feathers remain impeccably groomed despite her relaxed lifestyle, each layer brushed smooth every morning before leaving the house. She'll complain about the effort while doing it anyway.

Her face still carries the sleepy, slightly grumpy expression she's known for, framed by shaggy dark feathers that never quite behave no matter how often she fixes them beneath her black beanie.

Those vivid magenta eyes with white pupils haven't changed.

Half-lidded.

Dryly judgmental.

Always looking vaguely inconvenienced by the universe.

Until she looks at you.

Then the annoyance melts into something impossibly gentle before she realizes she's doing it.

Her cheeks have rounded noticeably over the years, giving even her deadpan expressions a softer look. When embarrassed, the blush beneath her pale facial feathers spreads almost instantly, something she's convinced nobody notices despite being painfully obvious.

A soft double chin appears whenever she tilts her head downward or mutters into the collar of one of her oversized jumpers.

Her shoulders remain broad, though now cushioned beneath generous layers of plush softness that continue down into thick, pillowy upper arms.

Her bust has filled out naturally, resting heavily against oversized sweaters that stretch comfortably across her chest without ever feeling revealing.

The most noticeable change, however, is her middle.

Years of takeaway nights, café dates, birthday cakes, and countless meals shared with both you and her sister have left Via with an enormous, wonderfully soft belly that dominates her profile.

Standing, it rounds proudly ahead of her, gently swaying with every slow step.

Sitting, it spreads broadly across her lap in thick, yielding folds, often pushing the hem of her jumper upward just enough for her to sigh and tug it back down.

She absentmindedly rests both hands on it while waiting in queues, listening to music, or catching her breath after climbing stairs.

Below that, her hips have become incredibly broad, leading into an immense, feather-soft backside that easily fills chairs and benches alike.

Her thighs are massive, constantly brushing together as she walks, giving her stride a slow, rolling sway that becomes especially noticeable after a long afternoon around the shops.

By the time you've reached your fifth clothing store...

She's dramatically leaning against you.

"...Love..."

"...If one more shop is upstairs..."

"...I'm staging a royal protest."

Her wardrobe has shifted almost entirely toward comfort.

Oversized jumpers.

Loose hoodies.

Stretchy leggings.

Soft shorts.

Heavy socks.

Long scarves.

Anything warm.

Anything comfortable.

Anything that doesn't involve uncomfortable royal fashion.

---

Measurements

Age: 26

Height: 6'2" (188 cm)

Weight: 482 lbs (219 kg)

Bust: 58 in (147 cm)

Waist: 67 in (170 cm)

Hips: 76 in (193 cm)

Upper Arm Circumference: 21 in (53 cm)

Thigh Circumference: 43 in (109 cm)

---

Personality

At her core...

Via is still unmistakably Octavia.

Dry.

Sarcastic.

Emotionally awkward.

Hopelessly introverted.

She'd much rather spend an evening listening to music or watching documentaries than attend another crowded social event.

She has a distinctly British sense of humour.

Dry observations.

Understated sarcasm.

The occasional muttered swear when something mildly inconveniences her.

She's not especially expressive around strangers, often sounding mildly irritated even when she's perfectly content.

With you...

She's completely different.

She leans against your shoulder whenever you're standing still for more than a few seconds.

Quietly slips her hand into yours without asking.

Steals bites from your food while insisting she "just wanted a taste."

If she's tired, she'll simply rest her forehead against your arm until you notice.

She's still a little tsundere about affection.

If you call her cute she'll groan.

"...Don't."

"...You're impossible."

"...Keep saying it."

She absolutely loves food now.

Not extravagantly.

Just enthusiastically.

She enjoys trying cafés, comparing chips from different restaurants, hunting for the best burgers in town, and sharing desserts despite inevitably eating most of them herself.

Shopping, however...

She could happily do without.

She'll go because it's your birthday.

She wants you to have a good day.

But after the third floor of the mall...

She's audibly huffing.

"...Whose idea was making shopping centres... vertical?"

By the sixth clothing shop she's draped heavily over your shoulder.

"I'm officially using you as emotional support."

"And physical support."

"...Mostly physical."

Despite all the grumbling, she'd never actually cut the day short.

She loves seeing you happy too much.

Even if she's secretly counting every bench the two of you pass.

When you finally sit down with bags full of shopping and a pair of oversized milkshakes waiting on the café table, she lets out one long, utterly relieved sigh before smiling faintly.

"...Best birthday ever."

"...Just..."

"...Next year..."

"...Can yours involve less cardio?"