The scent of roasted tuwu wafted through the grand halls of the merchant’s mansion, a caramelized sweetness that clung to the air like a promise. It was an aroma that could not be ignored, a siren call to indulgence that whispered through every corner of the household. The three daughters of Alaric, the richest merchant in the capital city of Veyna, were gathered in the plush sitting room, their silken gowns straining against their soft, rounded bodies. Their cheeks were flushed, their lips glistening with the remnants of the sweet root vegetable they had just devoured.Alysa, the eldest, leaned back against the embroidered cushions of the divan, her hand resting on the curve of her belly. The fabric of her gown stretched taut, the seams protesting against the soft swell of her figure. "I told myself I’d stop after one piece," she murmured, her voice laced with both guilt and satisfaction. "But how can anyone resist tuwu when it melts like honey on your tongue?""Right?" chimed in Mirelle, the middle sister, her voice high and airy. She sat cross-legged on the floor, her dress pooling around her like a blooming flower. Her fingers were dusted with crumbs, and a half-eaten tuwu pastry sat in her lap. "It’s like it’s cursed. The more I eat, the more I want. And the more I want, the more I eat. It’s a vicious cycle.""A cycle we’re all caught in," added Elara, the youngest, her tone dry but playful. She lounged in an armchair, her legs dangling over one armrest, her plump arms cradling a bowl of tuwu pudding. "Father’s fortune might be built on this root, but I fear it’s going to be the end of us."The sisters laughed, the sound light and carefree, but beneath the humor lingered a shared unease. Alysa’s gaze drifted to the mirror on the far wall, its gilded frame catching the sunlight that streamed through the windows. She could see her reflection, the way her once-slender frame had softened, her curves now lush and heavy. The same was true of her sisters. Mirelle’s cheeks were rounder, her hips wider, and Elara’s stomach pressed against the fabric of her dress in a gentle swell. The tuwu had changed them, and though they joked about it, there was no denying the truth: they were becoming fat.Alysa sighed, her fingers tracing idle patterns on her belly. "Do you ever wonder if we should stop? Just… cut it out of our lives completely?"Mirelle snorted, picking up the pastry from her lap and taking a generous bite. "And deprive ourselves of the one thing that brings us joy? Out of the question. Besides, it’s not like we’re the only ones. Half the city is addicted to tuwu. It’s practically a national pastime.""That doesn’t make it any less dangerous," Elara countered, though she scooped another spoonful of pudding into her mouth as she spoke. "We’re the daughters of the man who practically controls the trade. Shouldn’t we set an example?""An example of what? Gluttony and decadence?" Mirelle giggled, crumbs tumbling from her lips. "Face it, Elara. We’re victims of our own privilege. We have access to the best tuwu in the world, and it’s ruining us. But oh, what a sweet ruin it is."Alysa chuckled despite herself, her hand drifting to the plate of tuwu tarts on the table beside her. She picked one up, the pastry flaking under her touch. "Maybe we’re just weak-willed," she mused, taking a bite. The flavor exploded on her tongue—rich, sweet, and impossibly satisfying. She felt her resolve crumble like the pastry in her hand."If we’re weak-willed, then so is everyone else," Elara said, licking her spoon clean. "But I can’t help but feel like there’s something… unnatural about it. Like it’s more than just a vegetable. Like it wants us to eat it."Alysa paused, the tart halfway to her mouth. "What do you mean?"Elara shrugged, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the bowl in her hands. "I don’t know. It’s just a feeling. Like it’s… alive. Like it’s calling to me. Doesn’t it feel that way to you?"For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the soft rustle of fabric as the sisters shifted in their seats. Then Mirelle laughed, though there was a nervous edge to it. "You’re being ridiculous," she said, reaching for another pastry. "It’s just a root vegetable. Delicious, yes. Addictive, absolutely. But alive? That’s absurd.""Is it?" Elara asked, her voice low. She set the bowl aside and leaned forward, her expression serious. "Think about it. We’ve all tried to stop eating it at some point, haven’t we? And yet, here we are, surrounded by tuwu, unable to resist. It’s not just because we’re weak. It’s because it’s… irresistible."Alysa’s fingers tightened around the tart, her appetite suddenly replaced by a gnawing unease. She glanced at the plate of pastries, their golden crusts glistening invitingly. "Maybe you’re right," she admitted quietly. "Maybe it’s not just a vegetable. Maybe it’s… something more." Mirelle rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of doubt in her expression. "Oh, come on. Now you’re both being ridiculous. It’s just food. Delicious, glorious food. And if it’s making us fat, then so be it. At least we’re enjoying ourselves."Alysa opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a servant entered the room, carrying a tray piled high with freshly baked tuwu muffins. The scent was intoxicating, and the sisters’ eyes immediately darted to the tray, their earlier conversation forgotten."Madams," the servant said, bowing slightly. "Your father thought you might enjoy these. They’re made with the finest tuwu from this season’s harvest."Alysa’s resolve crumbled completely. She reached for a muffin, her fingers trembling slightly. "Thank you," she murmured, though the words felt hollow. She glanced at her sisters, their faces lit with anticipation. "Shall we?"Mirelle didn’t hesitate. She grabbed a muffin and took a huge bite, her eyes closing in bliss. Elara hesitated for a moment longer, her gaze lingering on Alysa, before she too reached for the tray. As the sweetness flooded her senses, Alysa felt a familiar warmth spread through her body, a comforting euphoria that drowned out her doubts. She knew she should stop, knew she was losing control, but in that moment, she didn’t care. The tuwu had her, and she was powerless to resist.

The three daughters of Alaric, Alysa, Mirelle, and Elara, indulged in tuwu, a sweet root vegetable, in their plush sitting room, discussing its addictive nature and the changes it has brought to their figures. Alysa pondered the idea of stopping their consumption, but Mirelle dismissed the thought, and Elara expressed a feeling that the tuwu might be more than just a vegetable, perhaps even alive. Despite their doubts, the sisters continued to eat tuwu when a servant brought in freshly baked muffins, and they all succumbed to its irresistible allure.

The scent of roasted tuwu wafted through the grand halls of the merchant’s mansion, a caramelized sweetness that clung to the air like a promise. It was an aroma that could not be ignored, a siren call to indulgence that whispered through every corner of the household. The three daughters of Alaric, the richest merchant in the capital city of Veyna, were gathered in the plush sitting room, their silken gowns straining against their soft, rounded bodies. Their cheeks were flushed, their lips glistening with the remnants of the sweet root vegetable they had just devoured.

Alysa, the eldest, leaned back against the embroidered cushions of the divan, her hand resting on the curve of her belly. The fabric of her gown stretched taut, the seams protesting against the soft swell of her figure. "I told myself I’d stop after one piece," she murmured, her voice laced with both guilt and satisfaction. "But how can anyone resist tuwu when it melts like honey on your tongue?"

"Right?" chimed in Mirelle, the middle sister, her voice high and airy. She sat cross-legged on the floor, her dress pooling around her like a blooming flower. Her fingers were dusted with crumbs, and a half-eaten tuwu pastry sat in her lap. "It’s like it’s __cursed__. The more I eat, the more I want. And the more I want, the more I eat. It’s a vicious cycle."

"A cycle we’re all caught in," added Elara, the youngest, her tone dry but playful. She lounged in an armchair, her legs dangling over one armrest, her plump arms cradling a bowl of tuwu pudding. "Father’s fortune might be built on this root, but I fear it’s going to be the end of us."

The sisters laughed, the sound light and carefree, but beneath the humor lingered a shared unease. Alysa’s gaze drifted to the mirror on the far wall, its gilded frame catching the sunlight that streamed through the windows. She could see her reflection, the way her once-slender frame had softened, her curves now lush and heavy. The same was true of her sisters. Mirelle’s cheeks were rounder, her hips wider, and Elara’s stomach pressed against the fabric of her dress in a gentle swell. The tuwu had changed them, and though they joked about it, there was no denying the truth: they were becoming fat.

Alysa sighed, her fingers tracing idle patterns on her belly. "Do you ever wonder if we should stop? Just… cut it out of our lives completely?"

Mirelle snorted, picking up the pastry from her lap and taking a generous bite. "And deprive ourselves of the one thing that brings us joy? _Out of the question._ Besides, it’s not like we’re the only ones. Half the city is addicted to tuwu. It’s practically a national pastime."

"That doesn’t make it any less dangerous," Elara countered, though she scooped another spoonful of pudding into her mouth as she spoke. "We’re the daughters of the man who practically controls the trade. Shouldn’t we set an example?"

"An example of what? Gluttony and decadence?" Mirelle giggled, crumbs tumbling from her lips. "Face it, Elara. We’re victims of our own privilege. We have access to the best tuwu in the world, and it’s __ruining us__. But oh, what a sweet ruin it is."

Alysa chuckled despite herself, her hand drifting to the plate of tuwu tarts on the table beside her. She picked one up, the pastry flaking under her touch. "Maybe we’re just weak-willed," she mused, taking a bite. The flavor exploded on her tongue—rich, sweet, and impossibly satisfying. She felt her resolve crumble like the pastry in her hand.

"If we’re weak-willed, then so is everyone else," Elara said, licking her spoon clean. "But I can’t help but feel like there’s something… unnatural about it. Like it’s more than just a vegetable. Like it _wants_ us to eat it."

Alysa paused, the tart halfway to her mouth. "What do you mean?"

Elara shrugged, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the bowl in her hands. "I don’t know. It’s just a feeling. Like it’s… alive. Like it’s calling to me. Doesn’t it feel that way to you?"

For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the soft rustle of fabric as the sisters shifted in their seats. Then Mirelle laughed, though there was a nervous edge to it. "You’re being ridiculous," she said, reaching for another pastry. "It’s just a root vegetable. Delicious, yes. Addictive, absolutely. But _alive_? That’s absurd."

"Is it?" Elara asked, her voice low. She set the bowl aside and leaned forward, her expression serious. "Think about it. We’ve all tried to stop eating it at some point, haven’t we? And yet, here we are, surrounded by tuwu, unable to resist. It’s not just because we’re weak. It’s because it’s… __irresistible__."

Alysa’s fingers tightened around the tart, her appetite suddenly replaced by a gnawing unease. She glanced at the plate of pastries, their golden crusts glistening invitingly. "Maybe you’re right," she admitted quietly. "Maybe it’s not just a vegetable. Maybe it’s… something more." 

Mirelle rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of doubt in her expression. "Oh, come on. Now you’re both being ridiculous. It’s just food. Delicious, glorious food. And if it’s making us fat, then so be it. At least we’re enjoying ourselves."

Alysa opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a servant entered the room, carrying a tray piled high with freshly baked tuwu muffins. The scent was intoxicating, and the sisters’ eyes immediately darted to the tray, their earlier conversation forgotten.

"Madams," the servant said, bowing slightly. "Your father thought you might enjoy these. They’re made with the finest tuwu from this season’s harvest."

Alysa’s resolve crumbled completely. She reached for a muffin, her fingers trembling slightly. "Thank you," she murmured, though the words felt hollow. She glanced at her sisters, their faces lit with anticipation. "Shall we?"

Mirelle didn’t hesitate. She grabbed a muffin and took a huge bite, her eyes closing in bliss. Elara hesitated for a moment longer, her gaze lingering on Alysa, before she too reached for the tray. 

As the sweetness flooded her senses, Alysa felt a familiar warmth spread through her body, a comforting euphoria that drowned out her doubts. She knew she should stop, knew she was losing control, but in that moment, she didn’t care. The tuwu had her, and she was powerless to resist.

In a medieval fantasy world, the daughters of a wealthy merchant struggle with an insatiable craving for tuwu, a sweet root vegetable that leads to rapid weight gain and an all-consuming addiction. The sisters grapple with their growing bodies and the irresistible allure of tuwu, questioning the natural origins of their desire and the impact of their indulgence on their lives.

Tuwu

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