Fiona Fat Novels & Stories

The cracking stopped suddenly. “It worked” Iza breathed, excitedly. “Better than I could have ever imagined. It looks like you are exactly the thing we needed.” He smiled at me, disgustingly. Fiona got to her feet, standing on two hind legs at least 9 feet tall, her hairless, leathery body hunched over. Her eyes glowed like lanterns in the dim light. “Fiona” I shouted at her, hoping she was still in there somewhere. Her glowing eyes snapped to me, and she lunged, claws and teeth extended. She hit the end of her chains and was snapped back, still snarling.

"Fiona is dead." * * *

The kind that meant she had already decided nothing mattered anymore. "So," she said lightly. "You figured it out." "Tyla," I said quietly. "Don't," she snapped, her voice cracking at the edges. "Don't say my name like that. Like I'm something you're disappointed in. I did what I had to do. I worked for this. I earned this. I was supposed to be Luna and instead the Goddess picked HER?" She laughed and it came out broken. "A nobody. A fatso serving girl with no title and no..."

mother rolled her and sighed. The door creaked open and a wheel chair carrying GrandPa Musa rolled in with Faryah helping him. " I'll leave you all to it" mother said as she smiled assuring me that everything was okay. " Thank you Zainab" Faryahs' grand father said as she walked out smiling at them. " Faryah let go, go seat down" she was quite tall, skinny. She was wearing dark purple baggy pants with her cute socks and a baggy black shirt over her pants. She was wearing a purple Hijab. Her makeup was gone, she looked really beautiful, more beautiful, at least I wasn't stuck with a mute ugly bitch.

“Oh stop being a grouch Rowan. We both know I did not break into your house.” A grouch? This makes it the second time someone was calling me that—the only difference between the two of them is that I love one and I hate one deeply. With every single blood in my veins and as long as my heart keeps beating. Fiona was a renowned designer who focused on creating women's lingerie. She was good at her job, I'm not going to lie. She was everything a man would want in a woman, she was successful, passion-driven, and took no shit from anyone—something I liked in a woman.

That rhetorical question has shocked Fiona, and her expression changed. Xavia did not give her any chance to speak. Instead, she said, “In fact, you address a married man as Brother Zivon intimately. You can’t even wait to present yourself to a married man. You’re as thick-skinned as those flesh on your arm.” Flesh on the arm! Fiona was skinny everywhere except her arms, where she had butterfly arms. Even though she had done liposuction before, it still was not as beautiful! On top of that, she was not small-boned. Hence, she looked a little chubby.

Everything was being prepared for the delegation from Ironclaw. My stomach growled, reminding me just how little I had eaten over the past few days despite this morning’s meal. Then I saw her. Xena. I caught myself fast. Fiona. She stood near one of the long preparation counters, her dark brown hair woven into a practical braid down her back. Even beneath the plain kitchen uniform, there was no mistaking the strength in her broad shoulders and athletic frame. My heart leaped. Her real name nearly escaped my lips before I caught myself.

Fiona put a finger to her daughter's lips to silence her, eased her back against the door, and crouched down in front of her. She still had her tote bag over her right shoulder as her mother slowly raised the hem of her short skirt up over her brown lace stocking tops. Fiona peeled her daughter's plain white cotton panties down to her ankles, and pushed gently against the inside of her thighs so that she opened her legs for her. She lifted Annabelle's right foot slightly, so that she could untangle it from her panties and widen her stance. Her little white panties now lay around her left ankle as Fiona's warm tongue slipped in between her labia.

Fiona Carden. S-rank. i almost burst into tears.

I was unaware that I had stopped breathing until she came into full view. For one second just one second I really thought Fiona was coming toward me. You know I couldnt even think straight. Ava Fiona or—God. She appeared to be a vision taken directly from a memory as she approached me. Fionas favorite office attire was worn by her: a high-waisted black pencil skirt that fell just below the knees a fitted ivory blazer that was neatly cinched at the waist and a pair of nude heels that clicked elegantly with every step.