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Fantasy WG: The Tale of Emperor Basil the Fattener


Guest Sulla67

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Guest Sulla67

High praise coming from you. Keep up your stuff as well!

Chapter 27: the mage's expansion

Taut purple silk was stretched tight around soft tan flesh, the edges of the skirt stopping a full two inches short of meeting regardless of the efforts of their wearer. A soft, slightly bulging tummy was sucked in, its owner desperately trying to get the skirt to fit. Although it edged slightly closer, the button was still a full inch and a half away from the hole. Unable to hold her breath for long, the woman released it with a sigh, her spreading stomach pushing the skirt yet further apart.

‘Damn it,’ snarled Carmella, the mage taking a look at herself in the dwarven mirror as she dropped the purple micro skirt onto a pile of similarly too small clothing.

This was a rather large pile, containing everything that had been in the woman’s rather large suitcases. As a sorceress she liked luxury and had spent decades (Carmella looked 20, but could easily have been a grand mother) procuring revealing outfits, yet now none of the expensive garments would fit. That in itself wasn’t an issue, a few words and the clothes would expand up a size. It was how frequently she’d been having to expand her wardrobe that bothered the mage.

Carmella looked into her mirror, staring at her body. For so long she had been a perfect, carefully maintained hour glass: long shapely legs, wide hips, flat, narrow belly and large, perky DD cups up top, complete with a firm, round rear. She hadn’t exercised a day in years of course, Enchantresses were expected to retain their figures by will power alone.

That hadn’t changed with the advent of obesity in most of the Imperial upper class, for most Sorceresses saw it as a passing fad and still flaunted their skinny bodies, but Carmella’s figure apparently hadn’t gotten that memo. There was a softness about her face, complimenting but slightly obscuring her high cheekbones and forming a slight double chin at the right angle.

Furtherdown, her breasts had gone up a size to full on Es, which was flattering, but they were starting to lose a little perk and her bras were digging into previously unseen side and back fat. The mage’s waist line, previously so waspish, had been hit hard, now it was nearly as wide as her hips and had a soft paunch when it didn’t have a food baby (which was often). Tight black panties bit into her sides, forming small rolls, until Carmella unthinkingly enlarged the garments to a more comfortable size. Her hips were also bigger, beginning to look rather meaty and merging with a larger, lower ass, more of which was exposed by her scanty panties every day.

‘How the hell is this happening?’ she murmured, fingering her paunch.

‘oh yes, I’ve been eating like a pig that’s why,’ the mage concluded as her pampered belly gurgled, demanding more food.

For years Carmella had had iron control over her diet, never letting in a morsel that might jeopardize her perfect figure. She supposed that she might have been able to eat a little more if she exercised, but most Sorceresses frowned on anything that might produce sweat. Dieting and more dieting were the matter of the day and Carmella had walked a fine line between eating enough to keep her large breasts inflated and not too much too look chunky.

During all those years Carmella’s will power had held firm, as had her body. But then she had been hit with a gluttony charm, something even a novice sorceress prepared for, during the adventure in the Elven ruins. A fatty feast had gone down her gullet, stretching her stomach massively. The taste of all that fatty food and the feeling of fullness had been impossibly exciting. Afterwards Carmella swore that this was the only time that would happen, but had been unable to hold herself to that.

Carmella had held to her previous diet for three days after the heavy meal had passed, leaving a hungry stomach and slightly tighter pants as a mark. On the third day of rabbit food, the mage had broken down and had a small binge. It was easier than it should have been in the Elf ruins, due to a few factors.

For one, there were dryads in the city. Previously slaves to the impossibly vain and unbelievably lithe Elf witch who had ruled it, the Dryads had seen their enviable figures ruined by the elf queen. Carmella’s spell had turned the skinny elf woman into an immobile blimp and the Dryads aimed to keep her that way, constantly ferrying food  from a magical kitchen to the elf’s mouth. Extremely grateful for Carmella’s help in winning their freedom, the tree women had agreed to supply the expedition from the magical college.

Unfortunately the Dryad’s kitchen produced nothing but the most fattening treats, meaning that there were always fresh red velvet cakes and boxes of iced doughnuts piling up in the sorceresses camp. Nor were the slender students burning off any calories through searching or digging, leaving all the physical work to golems. The effects took place quickly on the skinny mages in training: long, lean legs thickened at thigh and calf, pert asses grew outwards to stretch already skin tight clothes, midriff baring leather pants soon displayed love handles and muffin tops rather than lean abs and plumping cleavage began growing out of lacy bras. The softening students didn’t seem to notice their growing weight, beyond undoing the top buttons of their pants.

Carmella had been shocked and resolved to take quick action. She’d had a lot of noble women friends in the past year who had been lean and fit all their lives before deciding to indulge a little bit and when the first signs of fat had appeared the women had all laughed it away, claiming that they could lose it easily by going back to their normal diets. All of those women were now at least twice their old sizes, obese heifers whose weight was going nowhere but up.

The senior mage had resolved to make a speech about proper dietary protocols at breakfast, only to find upon rising that her favorite pair of pants (tight, tan jeans that showed off every inch of her long legs) wouldn’t rise past her thighs. A desperate half hour battle had gone on as Carmella had fruitlessly tried to get her clothes up her thicker legs, only to fail and finally enlarge the garment. She had been too exhausted and hungry to remember her original purpose and to realize how horribly out of breath she was. When she finally did remember it was after polishing off a stack of pancakes drowning in cream, syrup and butter, filling her up so much she had unthinkingly undone her pants button again.

Mentioning dietary will power didn’t seem proper after that.

It might have been wrong for Carmella to abandon her thickening students in the fat trap of the Elf ruins, but she had been desperate to travel and lose some pudge. Really she should have known better than to think that volunteering on the dwarven expedition would help, for all dwarf women were zaftig at the skinniest and tended to get obese very quickly after marriage. The results of that bad decision, and evidence of how bad dwarven food was for the female figure, were on clear display now.

‘Ugh, how fat am I anyway?’ the mage asked herself, not having seen a scale in months. She knew the clothes on the floor were all size 8s and nearly unusuable, meaning she must have gained 20 lbs in the last few months. Fearfully she summoned a scale out of the aether, gingerly stepping on it.

The needle shot automatically to 148 lbs, 28 lbs heavier than it had ever shown before. Carmella was aghast, even more so when she realized that standing on the scale let her see just how big her ass had gotten in the mirror. Were it not for the equal or greater gains in bosom and belly, she’d look pear shaped now!

There was a knock on the door, followed by Ashlay’s voice.

‘Hey Carm, can I come in? My shirt’s not um… fitting again.’

‘One sec…’ Carmella said nervously, not wanting anyone to see her in such a state.

Quickly she picked back up a purple skirt and blouse, sizing them up to 10s. When they were still a bit snug in the middle and rear, she increased them again to 11s. The clothes were magically teleported into the bathroom, while the scale vanished. A glimpse in the mirror showed a bulge in her belly, making the mage teleport a control garment around it, giving back the illusion of an hour glass figure. All in all not too bad, if still thicker than she had been.

‘How’s it going Ash?’ the mage asked as she opened the door.

‘Ha, fat,’ replied the spy, entering quickly and tossing the mage a shirt, ‘think you can increase that to an 18?’

Carmella knew that Ashlay had once been an impossibly fit assassin before turning into a butter ball during some far flung mission. Since then the short woman had been losing weight, getting down to 160, a number uncomfortably close to Carmella’s current weight. 160 lbs were long gone for Ashlay though.

In 2 weeks, Ashlay had regained as much weight as Carmella had in months. At least 25 additional pounds were on the once nubile assassin’s figure, all of them pure fat. If Carmella had been asked to guess, she would have thought that Ashlay must have had a breathtakingly beautiful heart shaped face as a thin girl, with big almond eyes and a sharp chin. Signs of that had been returning of late, but were now obliterated, buried by a resurgent tide of pudge. Her second chin was back in full force, complete with wobbly cheeks and more piggish eyes.

Ashlay had been busty since Caremella had known her, the big tits legacy of over eating. They were still huge, straining a far too small sports bra. Below that was her belly, increasingly dominant as an ever growing beer gut washed over a thick midsection that was itself located over once pristine abs. Fat gut and its angry red stretch marks were on full display, for Ashlay had chubbed up so quick not a shirt fit her.

Once loose workout pants tightly hugged the spy mistress’ fat thighs and wide hips, the fabric damaged where her chubby thighs rubbed together constantly now. The pants were practically skin tight across her ass, showing that she was wearing a rather strained thong that disappeared between two huge cheeks, and dipped down slightly under the pressure of her stomach.

‘Want me to do the pants too?’ asked Carmella, increasing the shirt by a few sizes, ‘its looking kind of… snug.’

‘I would, but Helmwurst wants to see if we can split them in our stuffing session tonight. He promised me 3 orgasms if I can do it and all the weight I’ve gained this week in gold.’

Gold and lust were fueling the assasin’s weight gain, well that and vast amounts of beer and fattening dwarf battle bread. Her temporary dwarf sugar daddy was giving her huge amounts of gold with each pound gained (gold that never took the form of rings, only tiaras, bangles and necklaces). From what Ashlay said he was also hung like a horse, giving the spy orgasms that she’d never dreamed of before.

‘Damn….’ The spy said, catching herself in the mirror as she took the shirt back. The sight of her increasingly bloated form, undoing months of strenuous exercise and diet, should have horrified her. But somehow it didn’t.

‘Surprised its all going here,’ the spy said, tapping her soft gut, ‘before it was in my ass. So, want to go to lunch?’

‘Breakfast was only an hour ago!’ exclaimed Carmella, yet her stomach still grumbled in hunger.

‘So, thin as you are you could use a few more pounds,’ said Ashlay, ‘its not like we’ve seen a man in years who likes skinny girls.’

‘But… but… I’m a sorceress… I have an appearance to keep up!’

‘And you can’t keep it up fat? I used to think the same way, ‘Can’t be an assassin if I’m fat. Can’t help Basil if I’m fat.’ But now I’m fat and I’m doing more intelligence work than I ever dreamed of when I was skinny. You don’t even need to worry about how big you are to keep doing your job.’

‘I have standards to uphold! I can’t go around eating myself into obesity, what would my students think?’ asked Carmella, whose flabby students were at that moment exploring each other’s rapidly increasing forms in a rather titillating orgy, each secretly exclaiming how chubby the others had gotten while lauding their own self control as they munched on treats in between orgasms.

‘So the Fried Egg Buffet or the Beer Battered shrimp Bar for second breakfast?’ asked Ashlay, turning to go.

‘How about both?’ asked the mage, ‘and don’t think this is finished!’

Several hours later, Carmella stumbled drunkenly back in. Her stomach, impossibly distended by eight hours of heavy eating led the way, stretching out past her breasts and gorging between the thick gap of shirt and skirt. What had started as an argument in the buffet had turned into an eating contest, which had lasted until they had gotten to Helmwurst’s palace.

The mage fell heavily onto the bed, another button pinging off her skirt as she did so. She’d never been fucked as a fat girl before, by man or woman. Somehow she’d been roped into Ashlay’s stuffing session, first as an observer, then as a participant and then as a competitor. Ashlay had split her pants alright, but not before Carmella’s waist line control garment ripped in half. After that had been a threesome of two hours of oral and finally vaginal sex, culminating in a massive orgasm. She had no idea where the remnants of her girdle even were and felt very little desire to get up, slowly drifting to sleep through a haze of alcohol and food.

‘Carmella! Get up!’ a voice shouted.

It was obviously morning now, giving by how much her belly had gone down. However, the spy groggily noticed that her skirt felt even tighter around the hips and that there was a roll that hadn’t been there the other day.

‘Huh?’ she said, through her huge headache.

Sitting up was a little difficult, there must have still been a lot of food inside her, but when she did so, Carmella saw the face of her apprentice. Or rather what looked like the face of her apprentice, plus a few chins and fat, chip monk cheeks in the place of Elena’s once elegant features, floating in the middle of the room. It was an astral projection and also showed off that the thin girls once flat chest was now huge.

‘How did you get so fat?’ the mage wondered idly.

‘I could ask you the same thing piggy,’ the young mage said icily, ‘but there’s no time. You’ve got to get Ashlay to the wedding now. Something horrible is happening!’

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Guest Sulla67

To understand exactly what happened at Basil’s wedding its first important to ignore the more noticeable events (the two mostly naked women bursting through the stained glass window on Griffin back to abduct the Emperor), the more salacious events (the bride’s wedding dress), the more fattening events (the mage Elena’s forced transformation from slender waif to near-obese cow) and the more embarrassing events (the Imperial Spy Mistress being unable to navigate a set of stairs). To really understand what happened, we have to go back, way back.

About a thousand or so years ago, at the very dawn of Imperial civilization, was a city far, far to the west of the Empire on a large river called the Amazon. It was a rich city and prosperous, originally founded by a clan of young women fleeing a war. Originally they were a group of nomadic hunters who ran all day and ate nothing but lean game meat. As such they were rather good looking and became famous for their beauty when they settled down, dominating a simpler tribe and taking husbands from it, becoming a group of ruling queens.

Overtime they built a city and invented agriculture, and that was about it for their figures. Most of the women went to seed pretty quickly, bodies that were used to needing several thousand calories a day didn’t stop being hungry just because it lounged around all the time. Soon there wasn’t a flat stomach in sight and the former long distance runners could barely waddle. After a generation of female rule, their husbands pounced on this weakness, taking control over the city and its field. Religious orders came down from the now male priests, forcing the now obese women to wear something besides hide bikinis’ for the first time, shoving them into tent like burkhas and taking away all property.

The women would have fought back, but by this point it seemed too late. The older generation that remembered hunting on the plains was both old and weighed as much as the bison they used to hunt, while none of the younger women had ever seen their feet. Things seemed pretty hopeless, especially for one girl in particular.

A young (and extremely fat) woman named Sophia was being forced into a marriage she didn’t want by her father, her near immobile mother unable to do anything about it, despite the fact that the man in question was both much older and had tried to take advantage of Sophia before, something for which Sophia’s unpleasant father blamed her. Sophia’s joy in life had been hiking in the woods, something that had been becoming more difficult as Sophia was also an incorrigible glutton. Her attempts at athleticism only led the girl to eating ten times as many calories as she burned off, going from slightly less plump than average as a child into one of the fattest girls in town in her early twenties.

Sophia’s betrothed told her that he would not allow his wife to go walking anywhere, where any man might see her eyes. The girl was quite desperate and felt she had no options: she couldn’t (literally) run, not that there was anywhere to go to, and fighting was out of the question. Despite her bulk the girl was weak as a kitten, her muscles atrophied remnants drowned in a rolling sea of fat. Dragged before the wedding altar and in complete desperation, she begged any god that would listen for help, asking for the means to defend herself and the other women in the town.

And that was when the miracle happened.

The Athenans claimed it was their goddess who stepped in, as did the Curvacian’s. Timeline wise, the Goddess was probably known to Sophia as Curvenetha, a combination fertility and war goddess who was later split into two faiths by other civilizations. Regardless, the results of the intercession were quite striking: a bolt of golden lighting fell from the clear blue sky, striking Sophia where she stood. When people’s eyes cleared, they saw quite a different sight.

Sophia’s tent like clothes had been burned away, leaving her completely nude. But rather than her pale, rotund, cellulite ridden body standing before them was an image of female perfection. Formerly short, Sophia was now well over six feet in height, while her pale skin had acquired a deep bronze sheen, all of her many pimples vanishing. Her hair, cut short on order from the male priests, had turned into a long mane of wavy blonde hair.

All of the fat acquired from a life time of over indulgence was utterly gone: saggy, utter-like breasts had become impossibly high, shapely and perky while retaining at least E cup size. Sophia’s puffy, moon shaped face had been replaced by lean, patrician features of high cheek bones, full red lips and piercing blue eyes. The vast curve of her gut was also gone, showing taut, impossibly ripped abdominals. Formerly stubby, clumsy legs had become long, lean and firm, the limbs of a true runner. Finally, Sophia’s once flabby, jiggling arms were smooth and hard, bulging with biceps whenever she moved.

Sophia’s fiancé, a sort, ugly little man of utterly unpleasant habits, ran up and shouted at her, yelling at her to cover her shame. The girl tried to push him away, only to accidentally send him flying through the air and smack through a wall. Everyone took a step back then in shock, which was when every woman there realized that the same transformation had happened to them.

Fatness and weakness had been replaced by beauty and strength. Even Sophia’s mother, grey and barely able to rise from her bed and walk to the ceremony, found herself returned to her youthful figure and appearance, yet far taller and lovelier than she had been. Things didn’t go very well for the men in the area after that.

The men might have had the weapons, but it soon turned out that aside from being super humanly strong, the girls ran faster than horses, had near bottomless stamina and healed nearly instantly from any not lethal injury. Pretty soon the men were all forced into the fields, basically as slaves. The women, of whom there were many thousands now, decided that that whole male thing was in general a bad idea.

Every other city and tribe tried to invade, eager to take over the rich forested river and capture the city full of beautiful women. Repeatedly, the Amazonian’s crushed them whenever they fought, each woman able to throw a spear half a mile or drive a knife through plate armor. Although they understood the importance of armor, their healing abilities made many Amazons decide to fight near nude, reasoning correctly that the sight of ten thousand gorgeous naked women charging is more intimidating than ten thousand non-naked women charging.

Pretty soon, every town and tribe on the semi-continent had seen their armies crushed and  was paying tribute in goods, slaves and most of all food. At first the Amazons thought to refuse the tribute, but after years of struggle the women saw the vast feast on display and all felt their stomachs’ growl. All of them had agreed before to diet strenuously and exercise everyday to avoid repeating the mistakes of the past, but the sight of all that food made the former fat girl’s self resolve go out the window. They ate and ate and ate, devouring the tribute of a continent. If their gifts had stopped there, all of the women would have been back to being barely walking porkers in a week.

But luckily for the women they found their gifts were endless. After several months of gorging, stopping only to sleep and pleasure each other, the women realized that they were as thin as ever, their muscles still in tip top condition. As it turned out their metabolisms were impervious to any food ever created, letting them stuff themselves without fear. At the same time, their muscles didn’t go soft without exercise, letting them be as lazy as they wanted to be.

For many years the Amazons continued eating and screwing each other, the only exercise was putting down a rebellion every few decades. After about thirty years someone figured out that they were also aging very slowly if at all, none of the women looking a day over 19. They merely counted their blessings and said their prayers even harder, happy at being granted the most important gifts imaginable.

But all was not completely well. After several centuries, a few women (including Sophia) turned up with bulging stomachs that failed to fade away by the next morning like the food babies the Amazons sported each evening. Even worse, they were growing.

A lot of women got very scared then, fearing that they had pushed their luck to hard and now aging and obesity would once more pester them. Luckily, the expansion seemed to stay with the women who first exhibited symptoms, the unfortunate girls growing rounder and rounder as the months went on, but more in their bellies than anywhere else. Several of the Amazons, thinking back through a century of hazy memories brought on by over eating, orgies and alcohol, remembered that pregnancy did that to women. Their suspicions were confirmed when children were soon produced.

Although the pregnant girls showed no sign of their ordeal within a week, looking fit as ever, there was quite a lot of argument about what to do. Obviously they had been screwing around with the slaves, which was a very strict taboo. Sophia’s statement that sometimes you just feel like cock almost enraged a lot of Amazons, before they had to agree that of all the stupid, cruel things men did, cock could be pretty nice.

Almost everyone was in favor of fucking slaves en masse at this point, when someone brought up a good point. If all of the Amazons got pregnant at once, they’d be helpless in 9 months and have to face a revolt. Sophia agreed and brought up the fact that pregnancy sucked, which every woman agreed on. There was also the point that the slaves might start thinking above their station if their mistresses started using them as sex toys.

‘There not even that good at it,’ Sophia admitted, ‘they’re all runty and weak.’

‘We could do better,’ someone else said, ‘are we not the most beautiful women on earth? When we feel like cock, don’t we deserve the best cock there is?’

Naturally everyone agreed on that and decided to find the best men available on their semi-continent. The tributary tribes were told to produce their strongest warriors each summer, to be poked and prodded by the Amazons in judgment to see if they were strong enough. The problem was, most of the men before their transformation had been short little runts and no one could really remember how well these ones compared. They did well enough for a year, but the small group of Amazons randomly selected to be allowed men complained that they weren’t nearly satisfying enough.

‘They barely last a minute!’

‘They always complain their neck gets tired!’

Someone suggested that they should start fighting the offered warriors in order to weed out the weak ones. This was a good idea in theory, but in practice the Amazons all proved far too good, killing two years worth of tributes. Eventually it was decided to just use the ones that survived the longest, but even that didn’t produce enough dick to go around. Eventually they brought the problem to Sophia, who had been declared Queen.

‘I’m just not sure there’s anyone who can face us on this continent,’ the slender woman murmured in between massive mouthfuls of turkey leg, her free hand tapping her crown which was the only clothing she was wearing at the time.

‘What, ohhhh yesss right there, do we do then?’ the Lady marshall asked, her voice a little off as the Grand Priestess tongued her clitoris. The brunette woman’s huge, perky tits bounced along with the motion of the other Amazon’s head.

‘Let’s go find another one!’ Sophia decided standing and chucking the devoured turkey leg at a slave who dutifully gave her another one. No one mentioned that at the moment Sophia’s usually flat belly had a food baby larger than her pregnancy had been, largely because every other amazon in her opulent court had one just as big this time of night.

‘I hope they have good food there,’ the Grand Priestess said from under the table, ‘I can barely stomach this stuff anymore.’

‘Indeed!’ said Sophia, lurching upwards, even her mighty thighs straining against the weight of several meals in her stomach ‘this food tastes like shit. We’ll go find another continent and take its best food and its best cocks!’

‘And the best, don’t stop! AHHHHHH!, tits!’ gasped the Lady Marshall through her orgasm.

‘True, we have fondled each other pretty well these past few hundred years,’ admitted Sophia, ‘we’ll see if we can get some more tits as well!’

The next morning, well early afternoon as the Amazons liked sleeping in, slaves were ordered to start building ships. Sophia and her Amazons watched as a vast fleet was constructed, enough to carry the cream of the warrior women and all the supplies their greedy appetites needed. When it was done, and the slaves chained to oars, they set out, hoping to find new lands to plunder.

Green, verdant lands not ruled by lustful, gluttonous super human women were sighted and the coastlines were ravaged. The confused defenders were expecting bearded men in dragon boats, not impossibly good looking women wearing only metallic thongs and thigh high, stiletto heeled boots. As a result they were ravished, in many cases literally for the strongest, best looking warriors. The most beautiful women were also taken, many a fair princess being carried off over the shoulder of a lustful Amazon. And, perhaps most importantly, the best reviewed restaurants were carted off almost intact, their staffs chained up inside.

Despite their success, the Amazon’s soon grew disappointed. Firstly, the beautiful women captives were given the same treatment as the Amazons, but lacked their magical metabolism, meaning that they quickly swelled up into obese blobs. Secondly, the food, while initially unique, quickly grew old after eight meals a day of it.

Worst of all was the direct consequence of all that suddenly heteronormative sex: the Amazon’s formerly near static population exploded. Sophia herself was forced to suffer the indignity of almost constant pregnancies, all of them resulting in twins. While each woman was back to being firm and fit a week after giving birth, that still left a lot of rather strong baby girls to look after and 9 months of swollen waddling to go through.

‘Cock isn’t worth this,’ the Queen muttered during her fourth pregnancy,  even the continuous orgy in the feasting hall unable to drown out the sound of scores of screaming children being looked after by plump female slaves. She couldn’t even participate due to her back hurting too much from being in her third trimester. Worse, the monstrous gut she’d been having to cart around for 9 months reminded her of her old, almost forgotten obesity. Thus, did the great cock raids cease.

‘We need to ban having children,’ the Lady Marshall said in another meeting eighteen years later, ‘these younger generations are fat and lazy. They’re eating up all the food and I can barely even get full!’

This was true, although it had less to do with the amount of food and more to do with the tall, slim woman’s stomach having a huge capacity after several lifetimes of consequence free over eating. However, there was no denying that there were a lot of young women coming of age and discovering their rapacious appetites. That they were fat was a false hood, they had the same gifts as their mothers in every way, but they were definitely as lazy and gluttonous as their mothers.

‘They just prefer to lay around eating and screwing all day!’ the Grand Priestess declared as she looked up from her third pie that meal, ‘we can’t have that!’

‘Ummm… isn’t that what we do?’ Sophia asked tipsily, drumming her fingers against her swollen gut.

‘Well yes, but we don’t stuff each other! The young ones compete for the privilege of getting to force feed each other.’

‘That doesn’t sound that bad…’ the Queen wondered

‘But they call each other ‘piggy’ and say ‘getting chubby there!’’

‘Sounds kind of arousing actually,’ said the Lady Marshall.

‘I do realize I get quite wet whenever I notice captive women putting on weight,’ commented the queen.

‘Yes, they have no self control,’ said the Grand Priestess, eating pie by the slice, ‘if you want to stay thin then don’t eat like that!’

‘I always do feel best when I’m screwing a woman with a food baby or one that’s pregnant,’ said Sophia.

‘I have to admit I do get a thrill watching other women eat,’ admitted the Grand Priestess, ‘to see them just pig out, forgetting all sense of self control and just give in. Slave, more pies!’

‘It’s a shame they’re all fat now, now we’d just be feeding fat girls.’

‘Hmmmm,’ wondered Sophia, ‘Slave over here!’

“More food highness?’ asked the plump foreign woman.

‘Of course and another three beers, but first, what land has the most beautiful women?’

The slave girl may have doubled in weight since being captured a decade earlier, but she wasn’t stupid.

‘Why the land of the Amazons my grace,’ said the slave, looking at how much food was smeared around the Queen’s mouth and how her usually slender stomach was so swollen it rested on her thighs.

‘See, the slaves can learn!’ the queen laughed, ‘but after that, what nation is in second place?’

‘I would say the lands called the Empire my lady.’

‘Excellent!’ declared Sophia trying to stand and having to push back the chair when her stomach hit the table, ‘then tomorrow we raid the empire. Tell the galley slaves to be ready for an early start, say three-thirty pm.’

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Guest Sulla67

Back to the main ish story!

The Wedding

Castle Hym-In was an ancient, massive fortress in the passes of the mountains. Hewn of white stone, its formidable bulk guarded the only approach between the Empire’s central lands and its long lost western provinces. Long an important focal point, it was now hosting an Imperial wedding, situated as it was directly in between the homes of both bride and groom.

The old, snow covered place bustled with activity: Several regiments of Imperial soldiers were camped about, ready to get this whole alliance thing over with and cross the mountains into the war zone. There were also thousands of servants, cooks and wagoneers hauling in vast amounts of food. These people were necessitated by the presence of the next group.

A great deal of the Imperial Nobility had been invited to the wedding, which meant a huge amount (in both meanings of the word) of Imperial noble women were on display. By now almost all of the noble women in the realm were downright fat, with huge rounded guts, multiple chins and cellulite spackled thighs thicker than their old waists. The once lean, proud women, so confident and in control of not only themselves but most of the empire were bloated parodies of themselves.

Ambitions once focused on the lofty goals of putting their family into the Imperial Palace now went no higher than discovering what was the next plateful of food to be forked down. Once manipulative women who could send thousands to war with a wave of their hand now had to beg to get helped up from the table, when the weight of their frequent meals grew to great for their weakening thighs to handle. Women who had elegantly maneuvered their way up the ladder of power now waddled slowly, fearful that a slight misstep might send their colossal bulk crashing down. Uncontrollable egos and unmatchable pride had been superseded by an unbelievable appetite, the affairs of the stomach suddenly far more important than anything else.

Hordes of bulky, sweating noble women waddled into the fort’s temple of Athena, leaning heavily on their smaller spouses for support. Each of the women was gasping, fanning themselves desperately, although each motion of their soft wrists sent jiggling tremors through their thick arms. The castle was located high enough that even a fit woman would have had to breath more heavily in strenuous exercise, for the huge women of the upper class, they might as well have been forced to drag their own impressive body weights behind them.

It took quite a while for the noble women to be seated, as the pews in the large chapel had been designed back when the largest person around barely exceeded 200 lbs and was probably a fit man, instead of a rotund woman. Several of the heavy oaken benches had to be moved around after Countess Malonique, once a champion runner, found her forty four inch hips wedged in between two pews and had to have several men pull the benches apart. Given that Malonique was by no means the largest woman there, it took a while.

Meanwhile, the Richnaur side of the aisle stared aghast at their Imperial counterparts. Each of the lean Richnaur women had walked into the room under their own power before slipping easily between the seats. Nor were any of the Richnaur women already beginning to complain of hunger. If the union of the two realms meant a culinary exchange, the Richnaur women really hoped that the Imperials would keep their food on the other sides of the mountain.

…..

During the difficult seating process, several other important things were happening.

In the first of them, Elena was over seeing her official duties. A skin tight dress of blue silk hugged Elena’s slim figure. Luckily, the young mage’s slender body hadn’t suffered any damage from her one bought of over eating at the dwarven city. She had checked repeatedly, hands rubbing firm belly, trim thighs and tight ass for any sign of pudginess before confirming that she was not going to seed like her mentor so obviously was.

Almost alone amongst the women of her social class, Elena was actually getting into better shape. The lithe mage had started doing some yoga and aerobics for an hour every morning and was happy to find her already flat belly becoming firmer. An intelligent girl (aside from being beautiful and magically powerful) she had accurately guessed that the fat fad was going to soon run its course, once its prime instigator had a marriage to focus on and was determined to stay skinny for when that day came.

Pausing before a door in the huge castle, Elena briefly examined herself in a mirror, taking in how the dress was masterfully tailored around her flat stomach, softly caressed her small but perky chest and how her diamond ear rings set off her angular face. Satisfied that she was presentable, the gorgeous magician knocked.

‘Come in!’ said a voice from behind quite a large amount of food.

Elena hadn’t really expected what she saw when she opened the door. She had read a report from early on in the negotiations that the Princess was a mere 115 lbs but it had crossed her mind that the princess Basil was marrying had heard of the Emperor’s tastes and put on a little weight before meeting her betrothed. But Elena had not expected to see the woman before her.

A very, very curvaceous young woman sat on a divan while a score of rather plump maids scurried around her. The woman on the chair, who must be the princess, had been blessed with rather large, very firm looking breasts and a set of extremely wide, meaty hips. Evidentially most of this woman’s weight had long settled into an hour glass, although from the soft paunch peeking out beneath her corset it seemed that a lot was also beginning to go to her stomach.

A skimpy white lace thong disappeared between her round, strangely free of cellulite cheeks, while several maids were trying to get a white corset around her waist. Evidentially the garment was too small, or the very out of shape and red faced maids were simply not strong enough to pull in its cords.

A white wedding dress was on a dressing dummy nearby, the looking about ten sizes too small for its intended occupant.

‘Can I help you?’ said the princess with a bit of anger in her voice.

‘Um… Princess Lydia?’

‘Please, Empress Lydia,’ the girl repied, ‘you wouldn’t want to get that wrong later today, when I could kill you for it could you?’

‘Ummm… of course not,’ said Elena, trying to figure out what was so strange about the woman, ‘Well, I am Elena from the Imperial Magical College, here to discharge my duty by examining you for hexes, curses, spells and general health issues.’

‘Please, do I look unhealthy?’ asked the Princess, to which all of the maids agreed that she did look very healthy indeed.

‘Still, I would like to take your blood pressure and examine you for signs of illicit magic,’ insisted Elena, ‘its legally required.’

‘Oh why for?’

‘Well, since Emperor Donovan accidentally married a horse bewitched to look like a belly dancer for one thing,’ Elena informed the fat woman, ‘and I must sign the proper forms before the marriage is binding.’

‘Fine, then take my pulse.’

The second thing Elena felt when she took the very soft, toneless arm offered to her was that the Princess had a spectacularly unhealthy pulse and blood pressure, indicative of a diet consisting solely of fried food and sweets. From a medical stand point alone the Emperor shouldn’t marry her, but that was knocked aside by the first thing Elena felt.

The hyper-curvy blonde girl was loaded with magic. Elena had been rated very high in all of her classes, both in academic knowledge and raw power, but she had never seen a more potent mage. As her skinny fingers gripped the fat arm, she knew that it would take five of her to equal the raw energy writhing inside Lydia.

‘You’re a mage!’ Elena snapped, dropping Lyida’s hand and jumping backwards, ‘you’re fucking bloated up with magic!’

‘Oh please, I am not a mage at all,’ the princess denied.

‘Bullshit, you’re brimming with magic! Really fucking dark magic, the kind that’s banned on every country on the planet!’

‘What evidence do you have?’

‘Aside from the damn aura I can see off you now, there’s the fact I’ve got a medical affidavit you only weighed 115 lbs less than five months ago. How much fat you have on you now tubby?’

‘Is it a crime to gain a little weight?’ Lydia asked, taking a massive bite out of a cookie. All of her chubby maids did the same. The princess seemed calm, but her face was turning red with anger.

‘It is when it violates all biological laws! Even if you did nothing but sit on your ass and chug whipped cream for five months, you still wouldn’t’ double in weight in five months. You’re what, 230 lbs fatso?’

‘229 lbs,’ Lydia snarled, ‘and watch who you’re calling fat?’

‘Apart from your chubby little maids and those idiot noble women in the chapel you’re the only fatty I see here,’ the mage snarled, ‘and there’s no damn way you’re marrying the Emperor today. The moment I get out of here this entire thing is off!’

‘That rather depends on you getting out of here,’ said Lydia, snapping her fingers, ‘Girls, hold her.’

Each of the chubby maids dropped what they were doing, slowly turning to face Elena who realized she was quite outnumbered by a far margin. There wasn’t a girl there who didn’t have sixty pounds on the slender mage and despite their going obviously to seed, each of the girls had once had a fair bit of muscle. Elena on the other hand may have been working out more lately, but she had been a skinny book worm all her life.

But she did have magic.

A shock wave sent half a dozen flabby maids flying, while a cold spell froze more in their lethargic tracks. A paralyzation spell toppled the remainder, leaving only Elena standing. Calmly the young woman adjusted her dress, putting one hand on her hip.

‘Very good, you’ve learned some basic magic I take it,’ said Lydia, the fat princess unimpressed.

‘You have two choices,’ said Elena coldly, ‘you can come wiff mef stamphing orf eouf camf….’

At that point, the mage realized that her mouth was full of food. While her right hand was on her hip, her left had taken up a mind of its own and was eagerly grabbing cookies off a platter, shoving the deserts into her mouth. Flavors that Elena found sickeningly sweet filled her, as her mouth chewed down on the cookies on its own accord.

‘You left your mental defenses down,’ explained Lydia, as the thinner mage lost control of her other hand and started shoving piles of food to her mouth.

‘Sit,’ Lydia commanded and the lean Elena found her dainty rear on a rather expensive stool.

‘You’re a skinny one,’ the princess said, standing from her own seat, the wedding dress unbuttoning itself from the dressing dummy and attempted to fit around her form, ‘skinnier than I ever was.’

‘Mumph!’ Elena tried to yell.

The dress was still failing to cover all of Lydia’s round form, repeatedly trying to stretch itself over pale doughy flesh.

‘Oh don’t worry, that won’t ruin your figure. You’re  young and you have a fast metabolism, you don’t know it but you could eat like a lazy little pig and still only have a starter belly until you hit thirty. Then you’d get fat, but with how much you hate rich food and how much you like exercising you’d stay skinny you’re whole life even if you weren’t a mage.’

‘Hmm, this has gotten far too small,’ said Lydia, ‘I guess my maids were right. Girls, who can still stand?’

A fat red head with thunder thighs and a double chin slowly got up, as did a flabby brunette with greasy skin and horrible acne and a fat assed blonde with incredibly saggy breasts threatening to snap their way out of the maid uniform.

‘My apologies girls, I have gotten fatter than I thought. As a reward your snack portions will be going to Elena here. Now hmmm, what to do about my figure…’

Lydia tried a few spells. At first her fat melted away almost completely, leaving her as trim and delicate as she had once been, with lean legs, a flat belly and small perky tits. Frowning, she tapped her body a few times, growing steadily plumper with each impact. Her breasts surged out, her legs got thick and wobbly, a flabby chin grew up under her jaw. Eventaully, Lydia stopped when her figure was back in the plump range.

Her belly was somewhere between a large pooch and a small gut, while her thighs were only touching at their very tops. Breasts had surged up to D cup, while still keeping some of that skinny girl perky. Her face was very soft, yet not quite big enough to be round and her chin was only on the cusp of doubling. The wedding dress laced up around her, the garment still a size or two too small, but able to fasten. When it was done, Lydia was about to pop out: her large breasts threatened to over flow the low neckline, the shoulder straps dug into meaty shoulders and there was more than a hint of muffin top around her waist.

‘Now this is perfect,’ said Lydia, ‘the image of the devoted, skinny little bride who tried so hard to fatten up for her betrothed, only able to get a bit plump due to that pesky youthful metabolism. Basil will eat that up, I’ll have his heir in my belly by dawn and him wrapped round my finger by the end of the week. He probably won’t even notice when his thought stop being his.’

‘You won’t get away from this you fat monster!’ said Elena, spitting out the cookies in a burst of will power.

‘Oh I rather think I have,’ said Lydia, ‘but just for that reminder, you remember what I said about you not having to worry about getting fat? Well, I’m changing that.’

Lydia pressed a finger into Elena’s belly, which was still concave despite the cookies she had been eating.

‘For the rest of the day, each cookie you eat is going to instantly turn into a pound of fat on your body. That iron will power, that fast metabolism, that hatred of fatty food, your new found love of exercise? Nothing. By the end of today, you’re going to be fat for the rest of your life. You’re going to get so fat, you could diet for ten years and still be a whale. Say good bye to slimness Elena and say hello to permanent obesity!’

With a wave of her hand, Lydia vanished the fallen maids, her remaining hand maidens taking up her train and exited the room.

Elena fought and fought hard. She put every ounce of her will power into stopping the arm bringing up that first cookie to her lips, she tried to keep her mouth closed, desperately she attempted to spit out the cookies and with every fiber of her being tried to not swallow.

But her arm moved, her lips opened, her teeth chewed and her mouth swallowed.

And her dress got just a little bit tighter.

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Guest Sulla67

Thanks! Yet more characters!

Yvarra's abduction

A few hours before Elena awoke, unknowing that today was her last day as a thin girl, a much fatter woman was already up and about.

Yvarra the Soft-bodied had almost always awoken at four in the morning. For sixteen years she had done this in order to sculpt her already perfect body with more pitiless exercise, but now it was to further fill out her already obese figure with yet more pastries. Awoken by the gurgling of her greedy belly, Yvarra’s bright eyes flashed open, her soft mouth yawning and scrunching up her several chins still further as she lifted soft arms above her head.

‘Come on,’ she muttered softly, trying to kick off her covers and stand up. Once the Curvacian priestess had been light and graceful on her feet, but the need to move over 250 lbs of bulk with weak, out of shape muscles made her slow and clumsy. When the blanket had been finally vanquished and her own weight defeated, Yvarra stood and looked at herself in the mirror.

Once it had been a shock every morn to awake and see a fat woman standing in the place of her once lean figure, but Yvarra had quickly adapted to seeing herself as fat. Her face was fat and round, her chins merging with plump cheeks to form jowls atop her thickening neck. Nipple rings with feather enchantments kept her G cups perky, denying the sagginess that was starting to effect the rest of her body.

Exercise had given Yvarra a girlish figure until the age of twenty nine, but her over indulgence since was making her body look matronly, more and more weight settling about her middle. Her big double belly had a multitude of stretch marks from her pregnancy and constant weight gain, while flabby love handles stuck out, hanging over the priestesses belt of office in a mighty muffin top. Yvarra generally slept nude anymore, her increasing laziness overwhelming her desire for sexy negligee. Lacy undergarments were expected at the morning buffet/prayer session though, so Yvarra summoned them with a minor spell.

‘Curvacia be praised for her bountiful blessings,’ Yvarra intoned as she waved her hand to summon the clothes, ‘she covers my nakedness just enough to drive men crazy and to lift and separate.’

Choice items from her closet materialized around Yvarra’s fat figure: lacy black stockings wrapped themselves around her tubby legs, the fat thighs mushrooming around the straps at the top. A jet black thong was only slight visible where it cradled her sex, the miniscule sides and ass piece respectfully enveloped as they were under love handles and lost between Yvarra’s wide, toneless cheeks. A black, see through nighty was the last garment, the padded, underwire bra adding further heft to her large breasts, while the split dress of the nighty was draped across her huge paunch, leaving nothing of her belly to the imagination.

Examining herself in the mirror, Yvarra caught a brief glimpse of the rising sun striking the silver statue of herself outside the temple window. The contrast between the perfectly athletic body preserved in metal and the doughy, overfed one couldn’t be greater. About the only thing still the same was Yvarra’s great mane of wavy black hair, which she forced into one of the newer braided styles with a  wave of her hand.

‘Well at least I don’t have to work out anymore to look good,’ she murmured before setting off for breakfast.

Once a pair of heels had materialized around her pudgy feet, no way was she able to see those feet anymore, Yvarra slowly walked down to breakfast. Her damnably slender friend and rival the Athenan Paladin Katrina had told Yvarra that she was starting to waddle the other day and Yvarra was determined to prove her wrong. She found that she could have a normal stride if she put a lot of effort into keeping her legs apart as she walked, even though this did slow her down a lot.

Thus there were already a few women already seated in the main feasting hall of the great Curvacian pyramid by the time Yvarra arrived. Most of them were Paladins fresh from their morning work outs. The paladins had once the leanest and fittest women in Curvacia’s service, ravishing in tiny suits of enchanted armor that showed off every athletic curve while still being ensorcelled enough to protect their fit forms. Each woman had had to have those suits of chain and plate expanded quite a bit over the years, their bodies swelling up with fat just like their less militant sisters. Despite this, there was still quite a bit of strength in their significantly thicker limbs and they could be counted on to triumph in any battle that didn’t require moderate running. They were wearing ceremonial one pieces, the purple swimsuits straining against chunky asses and fat breasts, while sword belts circled the paladin’s thick waists and soft leather boots cradled their meaty legs.

Taking her seat at the highest table, for her skill and devotion had raised Yvarra to one of the highest positions in the temple, Yvarra watched the other women file in. Once the seats would have been filled instantly, for the scant breakfast was served only in a brief ten minute interval after morning exercises and before the ritualistic morning orgy. Now breakfast was a much more lavish affair that last from four to nine and sort of blended into the morning orgy and second breakfast.

While Yvarra was sure that hunger would soon drag more of the temple’s increasingly lazy women down to the great feasting hall, she saw that there were enough to begin. Newly fattened initiates, with soft starter bellies bulging over their tiny lingerie, took a seat, ready to continue their transformation from lean to fatty. Significantly overweight middle rank priestesses and temple prostitutes who had been famed for poise and elegance waddled in behind the growing young women, their wasted muscles barely able to pull them along at walking pace. Last of all came the High Priestess, Silvara Half-Elven.

Before Yvarra’s own rapid weight gain, Silvara had been reckoned as the fairest woman in the empire with her silvery hair, perfect skin and long, impossibly lean body with endless legs and a washboard stomach. However, since accepting plumpness as a perfectly valid means of being beautiful in Curvacia’s image, Silvara had badly gone to seed.

Near constant gorging had made Silvara balloon up to many times her own size. Cellulite ridden thighs thicker than her old waist pushed up against each other, each leg hidden from view by a huge gut that was now wider than most women were tall. She was well over four hundred pounds and were it not for her elven blood would be having severe problems getting around. As it was, the half elf could just manage waddling and was rumored to have received an offer of marriage from the Grand Duke of Plombay.

‘Yvara,’ the high priestess gasped as she collapsed into her chair, ‘do the prayers…’

‘That’s your prerogative my lady,’ Yvarra said.

‘Soon it will be yours,’ the half elf said, ‘I’m getting far too fat to be this fat.’

‘If you insist,’ the raven haired woman said before standing up.

‘Quiet please ladies, the food will arrive shortly,’ Yvarra announced, ‘now let us pray before we break out fast.’

‘Curvacia, roundest and fullest of goddesses,

Keep our tables groaning under the weight of your bounty.

Keep our bellies spilling onto our thighs with your gifts.

Make our hands busy doing your good work.

Make our eyes weary with watching after your flock.

Split our pants with your excess!

Double our chins with your blessing!

Quicken our womb with more children!

And broaden our hips with more bread!

May we laugh and grow fat!’

At Yvarra’s last word, the Curvacian’s dug in with gusto. During the prayer several score Halflings had filled the vast halls table with food. A full village of the shorter folk were now employed to keep the women satiated, but the priestesses had the bakeries running round the clock. Even with most of the Priestesses out of the room it was a constant struggle to  keep the rapacious humans fed.

Given that food was by now pavlovianly linked with sex to the fat priestesses, the always lustful women soon grew horny. Other priestesses were both closest at hand and skilled at both feeding and screwing. Within ten minutes of the first course being served, fully a quarter of the women had abandoned eating entirely for sex.

This number was deceiving, as most were trying to endulge in both. A Paladin had one hand down her neighbor’s panties with eager fingers tickling at the other woman’s clitoris, while her free hand constantly forked chunks of waffle into her mouth, syrup dripping all over her roly poly curves. One blonde initiate was already going down on her red headed best friend, the auburn haired young woman playing with one breast while stuffing bacon into herself. Yvarra wasn’t immune to this: she and a once lithe paladin were taking turns licking whipped cream off each plump other’s bodies, alternating by devouring pancakes when the other was occupied.

Several hours and orgasms later, Yvarra waddled back to her room. Her stomach rumbled happily, filled with fattening goodies for the moment, and her vagina tingled pleasantly from her sisters’ tongues. She did have a somewhat busy afternoon of casting blessings and visiting her own daughters in the nursery planned and needed a nap on her very soft bed. However, she was not to get one.

Yvarra’s rooms were a mess: her bed was torn to pieces, curtains had been yanked down, the drawers of her dresser emptied and tossed and finally her closets turned out. Clothes and papers littered the room, piled around the perpetrator of the chaos.

Although she was outraged, Yvarra found her eyes locked onto the shapely rear end of the woman before her. Living her entire life in a religion that demanded a high standard of beauty, fat or thin, and a low amount of clothing meant that Yvarra had seen a lot of ass in her life, much of it of the highest quality. But the woman in her room had by far the best ass Yvarra had ever seen, round and shapely, yet at the same time packed with firm muscle and very high, lacking any trace of the cellulite that plagued almost every curvacian. A thong of black leather gracefully framed the woman’s buttocks, perfectly accenting the smooth orbs.

‘You!’ the intruder said, turning in what seemed like slow motion and giving Yvarra a further look at her.

The woman had more than six inches in height on Yvarra and was probably a hundred pounds lighter. Lean runner’s muscles corded her frame, which apart from knee high stiletto heeled boots was practically naked. Her legs were long, firm and perfectly shapely, flowing gracefully into wide yet muscular hips. This woman had glistening abs that spoke of thousands of setups, and oblique’s firm enough to stop a sword strike. The only fat on her seemed to be in a huge pair of perfectly symmetrical E cups, the vast hooters perfectly shaped and somehow as perky as a C cup. As for her face, angelic almost failed to adequately describe the downy cheeks, pouty lips, long lashes and brilliant blue eyes. A perfect mane of wavy, blonde hair fell down to her narrow waist to accent her figure, the golden hair making her tan skin seem even more glorious.

‘…me?’ asked Yvarra, trying to overcome her lady boner and think rationally.

‘Call the guards! Hit her with spells!’ one part of her brain said, while another self consciously thought, ‘my goddess but I’ve let myself go…’

However, most of the Priestess’ bisexual brain was overwhelmed thinking, ‘Sex. Breasts. Hips. Sex. Legs. Abs. Sex. Breasts.’

‘huh?’ was all Yvarra’s mouth was able to say, already salivating at the impossibly lithe woman in front of her and wondering what she’d look like with a month of overindulgence under her belt.

‘You’re the fat priestess!’ the beautiful woman said with a shake of her perfect hair, ‘the iron-bodied one who became obese!’

‘I’m not obese!,’ Yvara denied, ‘I’m just… a bit pampered.’

‘Listen slowly,’ the thinner woman said, ‘for the fate of both your empire and my people depend on it. Where is the Assassin Queen? The Witch-Empress? Where is the Emperor?’

‘Why he’s getting married today,’ Yvarra said, only slightly miffed it wasn’t to her.

‘Damn it, where!’

‘Up at Hy-men castle,’ Yvarra said, ‘what is this all about?’

‘The prophecy you dolt! What kind of priestess of Curvacia are you to not know them!’

‘Well there so vague we don’t really focus on them, they don’t seem important.’

‘And I thought the Amazon’s high priestess was an over indulgent fool! Every woman in our queendom is told the prophecy of man’s downfall!’

‘Errr… I’m not familiar with it…’

‘It was foretold long ago to all of the first Curvenatha’s priestesses, before she was split into her aspects of warrior and mother, that one day a mighty emperor would come to rule mankind. He would drive all evil from the land and under his guard the land would grow prosperous and the women gluttonous. When every woman of noble blood had grown too fat to see her feet, then a foul witch and a murderous dragon would try and strike him low on the day of his wedding!’

‘that’s terrible! We’ve got to warn Basil!’ said Yvarra.

‘Come with me then fat one,’ snarled the Amazon, leaping towards the window with a single bound of her perfect legs.

A griffon, a huge amalgam of eagle and lion perched on the wall just below them. It was a vast, muscular beast and its huge eyes glared at Yvara’s fat form with hungry intent.

‘Umm… I’m not sure if I can make it down there…’ admitted the priestess, who probably couldn’t climb successfully onto the window sill.

‘If you grow so fat, why do you eat so much?’ the amazon replied, seizing one of Yvarra’s fat shoulders and effortlessly lifting her into the air. Lithely, the blonde hoped down, seizing the ledge with her free hand and lowering Yvarra gently onto the griffon’s back before gracefully landing herself.

‘Who are you?’ Yvarra asked as the huge monster took flight into the air, vast wings beating to carry such a heavy cargo.

‘Princess Rachel Sophiadottir of the Amazons,’ the blonde replied, ‘the only one of my people with brain enough to act.’

‘Well the Empire will appreciate it I’m sure, but why does Basil matter to you?’

‘Because my sisters have grown as lazy and stupid as your fellow priestesses, even though we stay  thinner,’ Rachel yelled over the wind, ‘already a great fleet of ours gathers to raid the Empire for food, gold and cock. Dumb as they are, the Amazons will sack your capital and loot the temple’s of Curvenatha’s aspects if the land’s ruler can’t defeat them. That will make the goddess turn from them and strip away her blessings. As I enjoy eternal youth, beauty, superhuman strength and having no long term consequences, this would be very bad.’

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Guest dayman

I may have asked this before, but Sulla, are you on deviantart? If not, you should consider joining!

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Guest dayman

I have an account but have never posted stuff to it. I'm planning on writing some on this weds.

You should! Your stuff is 1000x better than most of the stuff on DA.

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Guest Sulla67

Well thank you.

Here's the next piece:

For thirty minutes, Elena was left alone in a room filled with fatty treats, with a magical compulsion to consume mixed with an arcane enchantment turning every bite into instant weight gain. Her face was filled with revulsion and her eyes wide with horror, but every moment her hands grabbed cookie after cookie, bringing the choclately calorie bombs into her slavering mouth, which swallowed them down with gusto, the calories within them instantly multiplying and turning into fat.

At first the slim mage’s small bust took the brunt of the growth, bursting forth eagerly with new expansion. Small pert Bs softened and rounded into full yet still firm Cs after a few cookies. After a few more mouth fulls, Elena’s breasts had burgeoned into soft, super full Ds that were straining her dress, nipples fully erect and cleavage bulging up to her chin. On her twelfth cookie, Elena’s swollen tits burst free through her expensive gown, flopping out as colllossal and slightly saggy Es.

By that point the focus of her rapid gain shifted to her stomach, which had seen its firm abdominals after three cookies. By the fifth it was no longer concave, but merely flat. On the twelfth it started to protrude a bit in a soft bulge, but it was hidden beneath the curvaceous bulge of her boobs. But by the fifteenth treat, her tit growth halted and her belly took off, growing into a small paunch that delicately touched her thighs. For quite a while the focus of her growth stayed there, her stomach spreading across her still slim legs like a tide as it turned into a bulging pot belly. Rolls formed as its growth expanded, her once waspish waist turning into an increasingly vast double belly.

Her thighs spread, losing any trace of athleticism as they began touching at the top, flabby bulk spreading downwards until her legs grew so thick they would touch all the way down even when standing normally. Firm calves turned into flabby cankles and once silky thighs were colonized by patches of unsightly cellulite that spread like the plague.

A tight, youthful rear spread out, growing rounder and softer every moment. Within fifteen minutes, Elena couldn’t have gotten up if she had wanted to, her rounded hips wedged fast in her wooden chair, with rolls of soft lard bulging out between the spokes of the chair back.

Her narrow, high face was now a bulging monstrosity, a huge jowl bouncing and jiggling under her once firm jaw line. Her large blue eyes now seemed piggish and squinting, almost closed under the sudden onset of obesity. Trim arms were now round and pillowy, jiggling as their plump fingers and soft wrists reached for yet more treats.

Elena would have gotten far fatter had her reach and mobility not been so desperately shortened. Her doughy arms had to reach over an increasingly large gut to reach the declining amount of food, while her fat thighs and gigantic ass wedged her firmly in her seat. Thirty minutes and two hundred cookies into her magically motivated feast and there wasn’t a single confectionary in arms reach.

That didn’t stop Elena from trying though, her fat arms stretching outwards to out of reach cookies. Sweat formed on her forehead as the mage fought against her suddenly out of shape form, aided by the very hundreds of pounds of flab she had just gained. Finally she managed to exert her commendable will power, regaining control of herself.

‘That…that… bitch,’ Elena huffed, staring down at the ruin of her form. Instead of a trim, slender mage ready to ascend the levels of power, she was now a bloated balloon, so fat her thin girl muscles could barely move, trapped in an ominously creaking chair by her own bulk. Her expensive dress was shredded, multiple seams having giving way and allowing a tide of doughy flab to escape.

Panting, the mage managed to send a message to her mentor Carmella, a desperate plead for aid to help the Emperor. A few moments later there was a flash of light as two other rather plump women were teleported into the room.

‘My goddesses Elena,’ Caremella whispered, staring at the gigantic hulk of her once tiny apprentice, ‘what happened?’

‘Its Lydia, the Emperor’s betrothed,’ the now obese mage gasped, not failing to note that her mentors hour glass figure had filled in around the middle to the point of sporting a non-deniable paunch, ‘she’s figured out some sort of weight gain and mind control magic. She’s planning on controlling Basil with it.’

‘We’ve got to stop her,’ the Imperial Spymistress Ashlay said, after idly munching a cookie or five.

‘Yes… lets go warn him immediately,’ Caremella agreed, not wanting to point out to her friend that she was almost as fat as her days infiltrating a harem and was probably hopelessly out of practice with her martial arts. Indeed, the tubby spy was near two hundred pounds of pear shaped flab again, her ass already having torn a few small holes in the overstrained seat of her pants. A fight with a powerful mage was well beyond her.

Realizing that getting Elena out of her chair would require several vats of grease and a hoist, the pair hurried down the tower stair case as quickly as they could. Both started sweating immediately, unused to physical activity after months of overeating and drinking in the dwarven holds. Seams in Ashlay’s pants and Carmella’s overstuffed bra could be heard every moment and when the senior mage placed a hand on her belly to calm a stitch she felt a most unfamiliar pooch in place of her hour glass waist.

‘Need to diet,’ she muttered to herself.

Ashlay on the other hand was panting heavily, the short jog pulling more effort from her than a days long fight and chase would have a few years earlier. Every thing bounced and jiggled and the former assassin sucked in air greedily.

‘I’ve gotta get back in shape,’ she thought, too winded to even mutter.

The two reached the chapel without time to spare. Everyone was seated, plump imperial women on the left with their husbands and the slender women of the kingdom on the right. Already Basil stood at the front of the church, watching his bride come down the aisle with obvious lust in his eyes.

Lydia had shed most of her huge bulk, retaining only enough to look like a woman just started down the road to fatness. A soft bulge was visible on her belly, her chin formed a delicate double at certain angles and her full breasts threatened to break confinement with every breath. An angelic smile was on her face, the witch princess moments away from becoming the most powerful woman in the world.

Both mage and assassin tried to yell halt, but failed utterly. Their burning, out of condition lungs could barely provide enough oxygen for their chubby bodies and Ashlay was already seeing black spots in her vision and feeling dizzy. A few gasps were all they could get out as Lydia ascended to the altar.

Something huge smashed through the stained glass window, showering the interior of the cathedral with multicolored light. Folk screamed in horror as they saw a wyvern, a dragon-kin monster lean through the window and roar into the congregation. Seated perfectly atop its back was a woman of remarkable beauty and power.

She had a slimness long vanished from amongst the Empire’s noble women, combined with a firm musculature that would have made Ashlay look doughy even at her fittest. The invader slid easily from the saddle of her wyvern mount, falling thirty feet with as much harm as most people would take getting out of bed. She was stunningly tall, well over six feet, and had a long mane of wavy, flawless hair black as jet. Athletic muscles bulged at her bicep and firm thighs, her washboard abdominals so firm a shirt could be ironed on them. Perfect DD breasts bounced freely on her chest, drawing the gaze of every man in the room even as they tried to get their wives from the violated sanctum.

The woman was almost nude, her only clothing a pair of thigh high black boots (heeled of course), a leather thong and a tiny belt from which a mace hung. A score of Imperial guards darted forwards to intercept her, but the mace was suddenly in her hand and the men were sent flying, each grown man knocked about like they were made of straw. Basil himself interceded, matching his huge strength against her.

Blade and mace flickered against one another for a few moments, with the woman taking one tiny nick across her perfect cheek before the Emperor was sent flying, crashing into the wall. Lydia stood alone, her blue eyes flush with panic for a moment before settling on rage.

‘You dare to interrupt my wedding?’ she snarled, magical power gathering in her hands, ‘I hope you like eating bitch, because that’s all you’ll be good for!’

A tidal wave of fattening mana shot out from the princess’ finger tips, crashing into the intruder like a tsunami. Everywoman within twenty feet of the impact nearly doubled in size, formerly slim royal or obese imperial alike growing larger. But the intruder was unharmed, her perfect figure not even slightly puffy despite the potency of the spell.

‘oh how very nice,’ the slim woman purred, ‘you’re even more powerful than I thought. You’re going to make a brilliant partner.’

With that she decked the princess before hoisting her plump form over her shoulder, carrying her easily despite having to fight a dozen guards off. The wyvern craned its head down, allowing her to easily mount and then pulled back, flying off into the sky.

‘Well, it looks like we don’t need to worry about her at least,’ Ashlay panted, finally getting her breath back.

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  • 2 weeks later...
Guest Sulla67

Too Late

‘Damn it,’ Rachel muttered to herself as the griffon landed, the loyal beast’s legs flexing underneath its heavy weight, ‘we’re too late!’

The nearly nude Amazon slid off the saddle with hyper-athletic ease, her heeled boots landing easily upon the ground. Less could be slid in regards to her passenger, the shockingly obese priestess having to haul herself out of the saddle, her flabby legs collapsing as she touched the ground. The griffon behind her cooed happily as it was freed of three hundred pounds of excess weight.

The mountain castle before her was a mess, smoke billowing out of the main chapel and hundreds of guards and guests running around. Many of the Imperial women were panting, their flabby bodies shaking uncontrollably as they ran at unaccustomed speeds, which was any speed above a waddle. Despite the cold, sweat was pouring down their bodies and their over tight clothes were ripping off their bulk, pale flesh showing through the rips. Rachel’s clit tingled as she saw one 180 lb countess shoved into a blue dress made for a 140 lb woman stumble on the cold ground, the front of her dress ripped wide open from tits to vagina, showing an immense roll of flabby flesh and engorged nipples.

‘My sister has been here,’ Rachel muttered, ‘damn it all.’

A pair of guards saw the Amazon and tried to stop her with drawn swords, pausing only slightly when they glimpsed her perfect form. She didn’t even need to draw her own, a slight kick sending both men to the ground with such speed that they didn’t have time to blink. Rachel merely made sure her perfect hair was still coifed and adjusted her breasts inside their tiny coverings of steel.

Several more guards had to be knocked down, again with little difficulty. They might be well trained but Rachel was an Amazon. She had more difficulty not grabbing a few plump noblewomen, throwing them over her griffon, riding back home and stuffing them until they couldn’t walk.

Yvarra waddled up in the time the far fitter woman took to knock out a dozen men. The priestess was panting as if she’d just run a marathon, while the amazon hadn’t started sweating.

‘S…. sto…. Stop!’ the senior priestess gasped, her breath coming in heaves, ‘she’s *huff* an ally! *pant*’

‘Chubby woman!’ Rachel shouted as another squad of guards paused, ‘bring me to your emperor at once! He and I will have grave words to discuss.’

‘Are you sure ma’am?’ the senior guard, a woman who had a six pack a year ago before growing a thick beer gut when joining the Emperor’s service, ‘abs like those don’t last long in his presence.’

‘My abs can take more feeding than you can imagine,’ the Amazon claimed, ‘now bring me to the Emperor!’

Rachel caught every eye walking into the Cathedral. Her stunning beauty was a grim reminder to every woman in the place how badly they’d let themselves go. Ashley and Carmella caught one sight of her perfectly flat stomach, defined abs standing out and automatically tried to suck in their huge paunches. Their bulk barely budged of course, once firm muscles long since gone slack and flabby. Indeed, the overweight assassin felt several stitches pop as her abs quickly tired and  let her stomach surge back against her overstrained belt. Every man in the room had their eyes focused on her impossibly perky chest, the near bare E-cups bouncing and jiggling.

The Emperor, standing now with only a slight limp from his injury, cast a wary eye over the second Amazon who was nearly as tall as him. He had a mix of ideas in his head, from caution as she closely resembled his previous assailant, to respect at her level of fitness to obvious lust at the thought of fattening such a form of physical perfection into flabby immobility.

For her part, Rachel was undoubtedly impressed. Surrounded by beautiful women had made her an easy lesbian, content with fucking either firm Amazons or plump slave girls. However, the sight of such a mountain of muscle sent a quiver running through her body, starting at her muscular thighs, wettening her vagina and sending a quiver across her ripped abs to jiggle her perfect chest. Even stranger, a ripple of hunger started in her gut for some strange reason and her throat went dry.

‘Emp… my those are big arms… Emperor Basil,’ the Amazon corrected, ‘I bring a warning, your realm is going to be invaded by the armies of the Amazon queen. They mean to drag your people into slavery, loot your cities and destroy your temples. As one of the few non-idiot members of my race, I come to help you and thus prevent my people’s own destruction at the hands of their own gluttonous idiocy. I must also say that my asshole sister Isabella is probably the culprit of the attack here.’

‘So, you’re telling me that on top of a dragon war, I’m going to be invaded by a race of gluttonous warrior women?’ Basil asked.

‘Extremely gluttonous,’ Rachel replied, her stomach rumbling uncontrollably.

‘Well, I think we can fix that.’

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  • 8 years later...

Chapter 27: Planning

 

Got permission from Westmetal himself to continue this,as well as some notes as to how it would conclude.


Right, getting someone else to narrate this was too much of a pain, and taking too long so I’ll take over once again for now, but he may come back to cover the events I was not present for.

Forgive me, been a while since we have done this, where were we?

Right. The wedding. Never had I seen such a substantial threat be taken care of by an even larger one.

One moment I was huffing and puffing as my out of shape body desperately tried to climb up stairs to warn my Emperor the sweet looking maiden was actually a vicious conniving cunt who wanted to dominate his mind, and the next she is abducted by a raven haired amazonian woman, riding a Wyvern.

It was officially the second worst wedding I’d ever been to.

The wounded were attended to, the now morbidly obese Elena removed from her chair, and Basil was commanding his soldiers to lock down the area, and to try to get some intelligence going to see what the fuck just happened.

Enter Yvara, always a welcome sight for our sore eyes, and Rachel, another Amazon with long blonde hair, a rather unwelcome sight, for two reasons.

One, obviously, was the fact that we had just been attacked by someone who looked just like her.

The second, more important and personal, was jealousy.

I had just come to terms with being receptive to gaining weight during my time as a Dwarvish concubine, but my performance today and seeing her perfect abs, tight legs and firm yet supple bust was making me rethink that. I had to tear my eyes away from her perfect stomach to deal with what was happening.



The cherry on top of this shit sandwich was the fact that the only reason this fucking matrimony was happening was because we were under threat of attack from a much dreaded Dragon, and now we also had to deal with an invasion of women who wouldn’t gain an ounce no matter how much food was shoved down their gullets.

So yeah, I was stress eating.

When Yvara arrived, Basil moved us all to a hastily made war room where his consummation chamber was supposed to be.

 

A map of the continent was draped onto a very soft heart shaped bed.

“Right,” Basil finally said after observing the map for minutes, “We know the Amazons are invading from here.” He tapped an island to the west, that lay next to the mouth of the Amazon River.

 

“And the Dragon queen will be invading through Richnaur.”

He tapped the nation to our north.

“But the Dragon Queen can not enter our borders.” Yvara added, eating shrimp from a banquet table that was supposed to be for the bride, but all the women present, Rachel included, were eating from.

“Right, but the armies she commands can. And once they take Richnaur, they will be on our doorstep, and have whatever soldiers not sent to die in their ranks. We’ll be crushed.”


A creamy donut passed my lips, but i still felt a pit on my stomach.

So what’s the plan then?”


He flashed a devious smile at me.

“I’m surprised my own Spy Mistress can’t see the obvious solution here.”

“Your spy mistress has spent the last two weeks getting plowed and fed, to secure a weapon we can use against the Dragon. Where is that, by the way?”

“In the capital, but we will have to find a new use for it, now that Richnaur is no longer an ally. My point is, what’s the best way to remove two enemies at once.”


Then it hit me, so much that I almost threw my goblet across the room.
 

“We get them to fight each other!”

“Exactly!”

 

Rachel just shook her head.

“The Amazons are raiding miles away, and The Dragon Queen won’t go after anyone else once she has the Empire in her sights.”

 

“ Which is why we need the one thing both of them are after, gold.”
 

He tapped the Richnaur Capital city of Hazen Oak.

“The treasury here should suffice. Ashlay, how long would it take to craft a rumor about a treasure caravan fleeing the capital, and making  for a road that is very close to the shore.”

 

“Give me a week and Curvacia herself will believe it. But unless the caravan is actually heading that route the rumor will be pointless.”

“Which is why we are going to be controlling the caravan. We are going to steal it.”

 

This was bold, even for him.
 

“Even my best spies would take months,”


 

He shook his head.

“We can’t trust just anyone else with this. You are going to have to break in and steal it.

I guffawed at that. “Look at the shape of me!”

Rachel joined in “She can’t conquer stairs and you want her to conquer a castle!”

“Settle down, this will not be easy, but the two of you, working together, can sneak in and rob them blind before they even know what's happening.”

 

We both tried to raise further objections, but a look from Basil silenced me, and I was surprised it silenced Rachel.

“We just need the right distraction for the garrison…” He looked past us, to the still gorging Yvara,, who noticed us looking and stopped chewing her stack of ribs.

“For some reason, I think I'm going to like this…” She said, smiling.

 

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A pleasant and unexpected surprise is that this great story will continue, I did not expect it!

But I don't fully understand - is the first author, Guest Sulla 67 and Westmetal the same person? And now Fit2Phatappresiater will continue this work? Please explain, did I understand correctly? In any case, I am glad that this story has come to life, thank you, I will look forward to continuing!

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