Azula did not hesitate long in the town square. Even as she stood she felt her precious fat stores slowly leeching away. It would take days before her body would noticeably begin to slim down in this manner, but the thought of her power bleeding out, squandered on keeping her standing and holding up all her beauty, was maddening. Azula knew her discomfort would be short lived, however, for as she gleefully devoured every last consumable worth a calorie within the town’s confines, adding pound after pound of bending fuel to her body, she would be paving the way to a world whose sole purpose was keeping her fed. She wouldn’t have to spend any calories at all; the throne room of the Fire Nation’s palace would be filled with cushions and become her new throne. The civilized world would grow rail-thin as they labored in fear and awe, providing Phoenix Lord Azula with her Endless Feast. Grinning to herself, she awaited the arrival of those loyal to her, so that she may properly pluck and devour her newest fruit of victory. The hunger that came with her bending style was a powerful thing, and if properly administered, Azula found it was more effective than outright mind control; any young lady she brought under her spell would stare longingly at her obese body, willing to do whatever she asked in return for a seat at her endless feast once she was in power.

Rapidly, a pack young women around Azula’s age, armored as well as their eclectically out-of-shape bodies would allow, had followed Azula into the town, fanning out to begin a pillage. The entirety of the group had been “broken” by Azula using a combination of intimidation, overwhelming bending prowess, and a desire to indulge their newfound gluttony. All of them had once tried to stop her, or had the misfortune of being in her way during her travels. Watching their plump bodies disappear into the city, Azula knew that if she wasn’t around, her little raiding party would indulge a bit on their own as they started gathering up food for her. While she didn’t want her troops getting too fat too quickly, knowing only the firebenders in the group would have any ability to artificially enhance their mobility with her bending techniques, she knew they would surely lash out at her if they weren’t able to indulge their growing inclination towards gluttony in some small way. Even under Azula’s watchful eye, the most seasoned of her raiders were getting rather porcine; former Earth Kingdom soldiers who had been with her since her escape from Ba Sing Se had been on enough successful raids to swell themselves into obesity. Some were almost half as fat as Azula, which was, by all means, an accomplishment.

Pleased with how smooth the raid was going and the prospective size of her coming meal, Azula indulged in a drawn-out gust of flatulence. For all of her willpower and bodily control, she couldn’t help but enjoy the sensation, especially with her armor needing an alteration, the metal plates pressing uncomfortably into her stomach through her silks. Her eyes flicked to a now-abandoned restaurant across the plaza. She set off on a brisk march, the swaying of her rear end hidden by her armor. A dull swoosh-thud accompanied each step as her thighs rubbed against each other intensely, then gently struck the underside of her armored belly. As Azula grew closer and closer to the first bite of her city-spanning binge, her regal composure began to crack. Distracted by the sweet smells of coffee and fresh-baked bread wafting from the eatery, Azula’s caloriebending began to slip from lack of concentration. Her breathing became more and more audible, eventually becoming gasps as she grew increasingly out of breath. Beads of sweat began to sparkle on her forehead, and she unconsciously began licking her lips as her mouth flooded with saliva. She practically stumbled into the restaurant, stopping to rest against a wooden table, nearly snapping it in two with her bulk. As her back flared with pain from holding up so much weight, Azula refocused her bending, waddling into the kitchen.

The restaurant was picked clean in ten minutes flat. By the time Azula stumbled out from the establishment, her thighs holding her in place for one maddening moment at the doorframe, several barrels of butter, salt, and sugar had been located and placed in the plaza so that Azula, half-senseless with hunger, would not grow displeased.

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After two hours of feasting, Azula couldn’t take it anymore. “Someone pull their face from their trough and unclasp my armor for me!” Azula’s hands were otherwise occupied with bending a light flame over a basin filled with sticks of butter, melting the sticks into over a gallon of fatty oil. “If I don’t get some help right now I’ll consider it an assassination attempt! It’s practically strangling me!” Her orders sent saliva flying from her lips, her cheeks and chins remaining quivering long after she stopped barking at the half-dozen girls who had completed their food collecting jobs and had taken to gobbling down whatever food they could before Azula inevitably reached their pile. A shapely, but noticeably overweight figure rose up from behind Azula and deftly unclasped her armor, freeing an ocean of crimson-wrapped flab. Azula’s breasts fell heavily onto her stomach with a wet slap, no longer pressed together by the unyielding metal of the breastplate. Her entire garment was saturated with sweat, deepening the reds of her outfit to a near-black. Azula sighed with pleasure, letting more noxious air vent from her rear.

“You don’t pay or feed me enough to be your handmaiden.” June, a bounty hunter once tasked with capturing the Avatar, rounded Azula’s bulk to make eye contact. Azula grunted, unhappy that someone’s insolence was between her and her current bowl of butter. She had sat down in front of the pile of food and deactivated her bending as well, which did not help with her patience; she was riotously hungry, and without her bending control she just couldn’t stop sweating. June returned Azula’s icy stare with the eye that wasn’t covered by her waterfall of raven-black hair, letting out a gong-strike of a belch as she did so. “I’m taking a few extra bags of sugar, okay? I still don’t know what you did to me, but I need them to scratch an itch.” June gestured to her double-belted leather vest. One belt had snapped long ago, the other creating a monstrous muffin top around a midriff that seemed to be dying to escape. Despite this, her gut did not dominate her figure; that job was left to her breasts. Despite only gaining about a hundred pounds in Azula’s service so far, they had already begun to pull downward, too weighty to rest perkily in her clothes.

Azula’s temper flared as June turned away from her, displaying her meaty but not oversized buttocks and thick (impressively so, for someone so top-heavy) thighs. From within the generous flesh of her face, the firebender’s voice turned remarkably icy. “You’re working for me because you can’t stop eating, and because I overpowered you and burnt the noise hairs off that disgusting animal you ride around. You’re ‘working’ for me because you would be a pathetic wreck without me by now!” June stopped and turned. A hint of sadness played across her relatively slender face, but was quickly erased by her long training as a bounty-hunter. She tried to act natural by using a plump arm to wipe some sweat off her forehead before giving her damp armpit a sniff. She then turned back to Azula. “True, but you can’t deny it. Even with all this extra weight, I took care of those guards after you scared them away with your…uuuuuraaap…womanly charms.” June fanned the air in front of her own face, partly for emphasis, partly because she realized she kind of smelt bad nowadays. Azula snorted (this expression came very easily to her at this point). “The less work I do, the faster we win our eternal gluttony. Take your bag of sugar, and if you use that tone with me again, I will show you the true extent of my ‘Womanly Charms’ as you call them.” Azula mimed blowing June a kiss, letting a lightning-fast fireball escape her lips as she brought her hand away, caramelizing a the bag of sugar that June had been (awkwardly) bending down to pick up.

“…still good…” June simply uttered, her expression unfazed. Grabbing the smoldering hunk of gooey sugar and using her prodigious strength to cram her cream-colored breasts deeper into her leather vest, June began enjoying her spoils of war as a delightful river of butter washed down Azula’s gullet.