The clash of steel brings Nyx's attention away from her existential contemplations back into the physical world. The stalwart sisters continue to bring blubber-backed blows upon one another. A horizontal slash of the great axe singes air as Corrin backflips, her form quaking as she lands away from the edge of the axe's striking range.
Its awe inspiring how they can still move at such fast speeds with all the extra padding that would slow any normal person down. But Camilla and Corrin are anything but normal. One had to slay their own sisters just to stand out in the cacophony of concubines that swarmed the late king Garon, scaring her and leaving her yearning for fraternal connection with any sibling left, raising Corrin as her own child. The parentification has made Camilla a force no mortal dare oppose, especially if anything were to befall poor Corrin. But imagining that is far from mortal grasp, as she alone was able to turn the tides of war and establish peace beyond Hoshido and Norh. If Camilla is the cradling shield whose love will protect Corrin, then Corrin is the armed forces of the entire continent. Not just an over-the-top hyperbole of a being able to tap into her draconic lineage and force the land itself to her whim, but a caring, optimism that penetrates the laws or expected, grounded reality, able to see hope when no one else is able to.
Yet now, both are bloated beyond recollection of their past selves, fatten to forms that barely resemble their prior frames of infamy. Camilla stands a heavy hundred pounds over her prior form, with long winter shirts serving as a bra for how enormous her chest has engorged to, inflating from an already painful 32H to a whopping 68JJ, from melons to prize winning fruits farmers would brag for years about. This increase in just the torso alone will have no hold from her metal attire, no longer able to fit the voluminous vixen of such a fluffy femme fatale even without the intumescent stomach, distended in sheer mass that hits like iron yet soft like silk, an almost nonutopian fluid acting form her cushioning provides. Enlarged hips and thighs more akin to Oni or Faceless than human, strength hidden in soft, exposed flesh as the plate armor made for the like of Benji barely contort to her form, still exposing puffs and exposed pieces of fat. Her bum even putting Nyx's to shame, an astonishing sixty-six inches of blubbery buns, putting the already notable stomach in its place with her exaggerated hour-shape figure.
Meanwhile, Corrin contrasts with an even growth all around, none overlapping in priority over another, while growing the slowest amongst them all. Perhaps a natural resistance to it from her draconic bloodline Nyx speculates but affected none-the-less. The modest hourglass to slide into larger proportions, expanding to encompass being given sand of an hour rather than fifteen minutes her prior cursed body contained. Her chest and hips, once a nearly similar low thirty inches, has grown over ten inches, near the fifty-inch mark for both, though the hips closer to that benchmark than her chest. Her supple top of torso spills back and side flabs of adipose greatly, helping balance the newly grown 45DDD from the paltry 33C from too much back strain. Her stomach formed by two pleasant folds, the top encroaching on hiding a deep belly button. It lays to almost cover an expanding fupa, though lost in the thick thighs, wider than half of a queen-sized bed, fitting for royalty like Corrin. Her hair now rests on the bubbling shelf she has grown from her derriere which sits tall atop the powerful thighs and thicker calves that hide the muscle still formed in her being, the coating of lard not taping down to her ankles, instead hangs a good inch past the backs of them.
Despite these new proportions, Nyx think, no, she knows they will overcome these circumstances and find a way to dispel the curse that has befallen them. The rush of an axe spin kicking up a cloud of dirt begets the cacophony of coughing from the onlookers. After a few more metallic clangs, the dirt finally settles, with both blade and axe stopped just mere centimeters away from each of their enveloped necks, Corrin kneeling from a forward roll with her blade two-handed pointing at Camilla, her opponent's axe just to the right of Corrin as she stopped a heavy upper-right vertical blow. A draw. Sweat pouring down the faces and bodies of both girls, staining the stitched together cotton blouses and skirts found around the camp from generous donations of soldier's personal collections as they look into each other's eyes in a deep nonverbal communication that only two warriors on the battlefield could have.
"Oooooh~ Corrin, you are fighting soooo well lately, I can *hardly* hold back,"
"Camilla, how am I supposed to get better with you always holding back,"
"Oh, hush now, I don't want to hear any more of that from you," The tall warrior royal rests the axe on her soft shoulders, the flesh giving and partially wrapping around the beard of the axe, due to the softness of flesh that now adorns her entire body. She reaches out a hand to help Corrin up, ill disturbed from the sword still at her neck. Corrin sighs and complies, sliding Yato back into its sheath. She reaches up, allowing Camilla to heave her heavy form up not in necessity, but to allow Camilla to dote over her when she picks her up. She lifts Corrin and envelopes her in embrace, almost losing her in her ever-expanding chest.
"Now that's better my sweetheart, now we can get us cleaned up and brush the knots out of your hair!" Camilla remarks dotingly, carrying her lovely sister a few feet before the demands to be placed down start again cry out from Corrin.
Nyx begins to chuckle to herself, then stopping herself, trying to form the stoic look on her face that the army knows her for. But her favorite guard Sasha noted the brief display of emotion, smiling as a child finding a beautiful river rock to add to her collection. A collection of secrets for her to keep to herself.