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WARNING: This story contains references to murdered trolls, half-nymphs, and hips growing to unreasonably large sizes. If these concepts repulse you, it would be wise to repulse yourself from my section of DeviantArt.

      "Trolls!" River exclaimed loudly, walking into a forest clearing next to a river. She was exclaiming to no one in particular, as the only living creature in a mile of her was a small robin perched on a branch and glaring at her for waking him up. "I swear!" She continued. "They can't make an omelette without chasing a maiden through the underbrush!" She stabbed her sword into the ground. "Still," she noted, "they picked the wrong maiden." She began unstrapping her greaves and gauntlets, hanging them on her somewhat blood-drenched sword. She placed the thick iron tiara she used as a forehead protector on the ground, then took off her breastplate. She had a tunic on under it, but nothing but a formfitting wrapping of bandages under her chainmail skirt. Even in the middle of the forest she felt a little uncomfortable with the prospect of disrobing so completely, so she left it on.
        She took after her mother, to some extent. Her mother had been a nymph, and they had little use for children, so her father had taken her when the two had parted ways. She was, of course, not as buxom as a nymph, who's breasts could be as large around as cartwheels, and who's thighs could be thick and firm as tree trunks, but she had enough of her mother's heritage to turn heads, and her indigo hair did little to help. It was why she had decided to hack her way through the forest instead of taking a more beaten path. Truth be told, whatever her body might look like, on the inside, she took after her father, and was painfully shy. That was why she had changed her name to River. It was the literal translation of her Nympish name, Aruea, but when Aruea was pronounced with the correct inflection, it sounded like the sort of cry that would be given in the throes of ecstasy-- as did most Nymphish words.
        She sighed. Why did they toss her pack into the river, the morons? They didn't even search it. What sort of marauder doesn't even check for gold before he just willy-nilly chucks a leather pack into the forest? She'd had soap in there! Soap! For the first time in half a year she'd had the money to buy her own soap! And then en route to Alvira, three stupid trolls come out from under a bridge and toss her pack down the river. Well, they had their own comeuppance, but that didn't bring back her soap. Or her food, for that matter, she thought, her stomach giving a mild grumble.
        It was only early afternoon, and she had a fair amount of time to kill. Here was as good a place to rest as any, and she didn't want to have to trek through the forest all night long if she couldn't find another clearing to sleep in. River passed the time by skipping stones across the water. Plip, plip, plip. Tomorrow would be another day, but it would be a day without any supplies. She was beginning to curse the fact that she'd taken the direct route through the forest instead of going the mainway. Plip, plip, plip. She should have been foraging for some manner of food, but she was too annoyed to do it properly. All the same, she was getting hungrier. Plip, plip.
        She stared at the river, still annoyed and discontent, but calming down. She blew a lock of dark blue hair out of her face, and skipped another stone across the water. Plip, plip, thunk. She looked up. Something was in the water. She squinted. Could it be? Her armor skirt was off in a second and she waded into the water. The current was strong, and came up to her waist, but she was well up to the task, especially with such a motivation: stuck on an upended tree branch was her pack. She whisked it off and walked back onto dry land.
       The contents of her pack were relatively intact, though a little worse for wear. She decided to tend to her gurgling stomach first. Her bread, of course, had been ruined, but the cheese had been in a leather pouch, as had a few strips of jerky. They were a little wet, but tasted the same as always, and she made a decent meal of them with enough left over that she wouldn't have to forage for the next day or so. She had, of course, been counting on the bread to get her across the first day, and then she would have switched to the jerky for the next two, but the trolls had put a stop to that idea.
       Still, River was happy to have her pack back. Night was beginning to set in, and she was shivering violently. Her flint and tinder were in a box which had mercifully not been breached by water, and with a few minutes of hard work, she had a merrily blazing fire and a pile of wood. With those necessities set up, she waded once more into the river, this time minus her wrappings and tunic. Some of her soap had been lost, but she still had a nice lump of  the jasmine-scented stuff, with which she vigorously scrubbed herself before dunking back into the water and wading back out.
       She dried herself sitting by the fire, not having any sort of dry cloth she could use for that purpose, and was all in all quite cheered up. She was warm, comfortable, and the area south of her waist was tingling pleasantly-- another inheritance from her nypmh mother. Double-checking, even though she was sure no one was around, she slipped her left hand down to just the right spot. Her right trailed up to her breasts, and in a short time, she was working herself, bucking up and down and moaning. She would be hard pressed to find a place she could do this uninterrupted on the mainway. She gave out one last squeal of pleasure, arching her back and lifting her entire body by her neck and left foot alone before collapsing back down onto the ground, panting lightly.
       Of course, she noted in retrospection, it might have been smart to do that first and not waste soap on cleaning herself twice, but she shrugged it off as worth it, and waded in once more, cleaning herself up, stepping out, and throwing another log on the fire, which hissed and smoked merrily. A short while later, the chill of the night began to set in in earnest and she pulled her tunic on over her head, and began to wrap the bandage around her hips.
       Only the cloth wouldn't fit. She huffed and puffed, but could only just bring it around herself once, when it was supposed to go around twice. Had she gotten... bigger? It was a little hard to tell by the flickering quality of the light, so the only way to tell was manually. She draped the cloth strip over her sword, and then tentatively reached her hands down to her waist and began slowly, hesitantly, to trace a line outwards.
       "Ye gods," she said under her breath. River's hips normally started to flare out slightly below her belly button. Now they were a hand above it, and went very nearly sideways from there. She took in a sharp breath as she traced them outwards, so far that her hands were having difficulty going more than a third of the way down her thighs. She felt backwards, to her buttocks, and she had difficulty finding the bottoms of them with her hands. In the end, she had to feel her way downward and smash herself in a little to be able to get to the end of her enormous butt cheeks, and by the end of it, she was sweating all over again. They were so sensitive!
        And beyond that, they were burning hot to the touch. She released her behind from her grip and waded into the water to cool them down. They were tingling again. Irresistably, she slid her hands down between her thighs... And felt as her legs grew thicker, pressing her hands together. It was the river! She hurled herself out of it and onto dry land, landing next to the fire, and watching in morbid fascination as the last drops of water on her skin dissapeared into her thighs.
        Before she even knew what she was doing, she had slid her hands back down to her womanhood, and was cooly rationalizing inside her head while grabbing everything she could reach and squeezing her legs together around her hands. After all, what could she do? She was as big as she was. Maybe it was temporary, maybe it wasn't. She wasn't a wizard, and this was clearly magic. She didn't know how to deal with it, so why should she be worried?
        With that pattern of thought complete, all thought went out of her head aside from pleasuring herself as much as possible. While one hand worked her maidenhood, the other one squeezed and fondled her left buttock, and with every involuntary spasm of pleasure, her hips lifted into the air and slammed back down with enough force to make her moan loudly. "Oh, oh, oh," her right hand vacated from it's current home and slid around to cup her ample backside, pressing in the flesh. She thrusted back and forth, pivoting her hips up into the air and then back down into her greedy fingers, "ooooh, oh, oooooh!" River squeezed her legs together, again lifting herself into the air and then coming back down as she orgasmed again and again until she was at last spent.
       Hot and sweaty though she was, she now knew better than to clean herself off in the river again, and instead went to a peaceful, deep sleep. Warriors were trained to sleep so lightly that the snap of a twig would awaken them, but she was so much beyond her training that she simply slipped into a comfortable, inviting coccoon of dreams centering around her enormous figure and slept until late in the morning.
       In a rush, she packed and clothed herself. She had to set out soon, lest she waste another day lounging around the river. She took her cloth strip and wound it tightly around herself, tying it in a knot so it wouldn't slip. It cut into her thighs in a way that was disturbingly both painful and pleasurable. Pulling on her chainmail skirt was at least a fifteen minute affair, as it had been made for hips half or less the size of hers now, but she managed it in the end. Though, River reflected, it looked rather like some sort of fake chainmail that one might see on a woman in a brothel. Flesh spilled betweeen the rings, and the action of walking caused it to shift, sidle and pinch her enormous thighs. Still, she had no time to spare, so she pulled on her tiara and her breastplate, and buckled on her sword and pack.
      She set out, pushing her way through the underbrush, munching a piece of beef jerky, with three deerskins full of the river water hanging from her belt.