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Old 11-24-2014, 08:41 PM   #1
Join Date: Oct 2013
Posts: 120
Sulla has said some nice things
Default Queen of the Fat Coast

So this is kind of a sequel to my Emperor Basil the Fattener story, which had too much continuity and too many characters for me to keep track of. This is going to be more sequential and is a bit more inspired by older pulp stories, but with a weight gain bent.

Queen of the Fat-Coast:

Chapter 1: Her Weight in Gold

Wind-Ripper, terror of the Creame islands was running for its life. It didn’t matter that it was a galleon two hundred feet long from stern to bow and a hundred and fifty feet from stern to keel, with hundreds of blood thirsty crew laboring beneath its black masts or that its reputation was as the fiercest pirate vessel in all the seas. The great ship was running fast, with every inch of sail straining in the wind to escape its foe.

And it was losing.

Captain Jessene Ravanche, a fierce and hateful female swashbuckler in her late twenties stood behind the ship’s wheel, her green eye affixed to a spyglass locked on her persuer. Her wiry body was taut, its lean musculature earned from a lifetime of work with blade and boat was quivering with pent up rage. The Captain’s crew avoided her in these moods, for even the slightest intrusion upon the fire haired corsair’s inner thoughts would see the well used saber strapped just above the rolled tops of her thigh high leather boots flash out.

‘Give me more sail you scurvy dogs!’ Ravanche demanded of her crew with a snarl, the nearest sailors cringing away from her order.

‘Captain, every scrap is put up!’ her first mate pleaded, before the saber’s hooked blade opened a painful slash across his face. That the two had been lovers for years gave him no protection.

‘I want speed not excuses!’ Ravanche demanded, as the frigate behind her came ever closer, its white sails looming dangerously near. The crew immediately began trying to increase speed, despite knowing it was impossible. All of them were murderers born and old hands at slaughter, but they went in mortal terror of their short, slight Captain. The slightest disobedience would set the green eye in her pretty face wide with madness and then all that was left of their life would be the swoosh of her long coat, the flash of her blade and their mutilated face hitting the deck.

‘Perhaps if we drop some of our cargo?’ Ravanche’s second mate, a tan skinned, plumpish woman suggested, ‘Our strong hold is bursting with loot enough already and the Princess is certainly worth more than the gold and silk we took off the Serican ship.’

‘Give up our loot!’ Ravanche shrieked, ‘I’d sooner cut down the masts, Ms. Shakra!’

‘We can cut more speed if we lose some excess weight,’ the second mate began, stopping herself only when she realized that the captain’s eye had gone wide with insanity.

As she was hurled into the sea, Second Mate Shakra reflected that talking about dropping excess weight wasn’t a good idea when you have an over filled belly hanging over your belt, tree trunk thighs straining your pants and heavy breasts always threatening to burst your top. The splash she made was particularly loud, more than enough to cover up her strained garments ripping to shreds at the impact on the water. Luckily she found herself floating rather well due to her buoyant physique.

Back aboard Wind-Ripper, another pair of eyes watched the scene with a mix of hope and fear. Princess Seserachad stood within a cage upon the galleon’s deck, locked inside to both protect her from the advances of the crew and to humiliate her. This girl was the very definition of elegant beauty: her skin was soft and smooth, with nary a blemish and her silky, waist length hair dark as midnight. Her body was slim and straight, yet soft as butter from a life spent without ever having to lift a finger for herself. Just a hint of softness clung to her supple limbs and pretty face, while the breadth of her hips and the full heft of her bosom hinted at future roundness.

Only hours ago, Seserachad’s immense ship had been leisurely carrying her from a life of luxury in the Arbasid Empire to a slightly different life of luxury as the betrothed bride of one of the desert kingdom’s client despots. The large ship’s crew had been overwhelmed by the fierce pirates, its cargo of silk and gold captured and the stunning princess caged after her silk dress had been ripped away. Thus she had been tossed into the cage, her long slim legs crossed to give herself some form of modesty while her hands tried to cover her pert breasts. Ravanche had promised that she wouldn’t be harmed provided a ransom was paid, but Seserachad doubted the raving pirate woman was in a mood to keep her promises at the moment.

Only hope that the white frigate would bring her rescue, as opposed to a worse captivity, supported her now.

There was a brief flurry of magic as Ravanche’s hired mage attempted to duel with the sorceress upon the other ship, but the pirate’s mage was quickly cut down and the ship’s sails were knocked into the sea with stunningly accurate lightning bolts. The entire galleon lurched as the frigate rammed into it, a spiked boarding ramp falling onto the deck to let a small army of mailed fighters invade. At their head was a terrifying figure in form fitting plate, tall, curvaceous and unmistakably feminine, she crashed her way through the pirate ranks with ease. Her mace shattered Captain Ravanche’s saber and a kick to the head put the pirate captain on her back. Within minutes it was over, the Wind-Ripper’s long career of infamy brought to an end as her remaining crew surrendered.

The second mate Ms. Shakra was hauled up from the water by the conquerors, her big breasts hanging free with their nipples engorged. She was furious at her treatment and helped the victorious crew identify captured leaders, not caring that her pants had split in a dozen places to reveal much of her plentiful backside and chubby legs. The new crew Shakra had joined giggled at every flabby shake and Seserachad noted that they almost instantly began fetching the fat ex-pirate food and drink.

Princess Seserachad noted that almost all of the invading crew were women, tan and lean young beauties who watched looked up to their leader like she was a goddess. Seserachad was a bit shocked to see women not only carrying weapons, but using them with skill. The Princess herself lived a life of pacifist ease inside palace walls never seeing or dreaming of violence, yet these girls were laughing at their near brush with death and were already stripping Wind-Runner bare of loot. Raised to be modest, Seserachad was shocked as the maidens stripped off their hot, stained armor to reveal their sweaty, nubile bodies.

Their limbs were supple and strong and their bellies flat, although there was plenty of feminine softness in their hips and chests. Any man would be happy to spend an afternoon or a night with one of these maidens, to the point that the caged princess felt a bit unconscious of her untoned limbs and slightly soft belly. Where Seserachad never lifted a finger but watched what she ate strictly, giving her a body that was slender but soft, these girls were quite the opposite. The past few minutes had demonstrated that they must spend hours a day at sword drill, but even now many of them were guzzling rum or partaking in looted foodstuff, practically hand feeding each other. If she had eaten like these girls, then Seserachad would find her hips getting wedged in doors before the year was out, but the crew women obviously worked out enough to keep most of it off.

The woman that these fearsome beauties answered to was herself just as terrifying to Seserachad as Ravanche had been, if in a different way than the defeated pirate. Ravanche had been constantly moving, wiry and near to burst with energy and paranoia. Short, slight and flat chested, her clothes had been little more than high boots, heeled for height, an extremely short shirt and a long black frock coat.

Her new captor, if captor she was, was remarkably different. This woman was markably tall, easily over six feet even without high heeled boots and with an athlete’s well defined muscles. Despite this she was remarkably, nay, strikingly feminine. After the last enemy surrendered, the winged great helm was removed to let honey blonde curls fall to firm shoulders, revealing a stunning heart shaped face with shining blue eyes, straight, shining white teeth and plump, pillowy lips. Likewise, once her long scale mail coat was doffed and her chain mail chausses taken away, a wonderland of tanned feminity was on display, only a tiny leather thong and knee high leather boots left behind. It lasted only a moment as a servant girl quickly replaced the heavy mail with tight leggings and a vest, but it stayed in the mind of everyone there.

Every eye locked onto a pair of nigh perfect breasts, high and firm Es with plenty of bounce and jiggle, as well as a youthful perkiness that belied their large size. Both large nipples sat high and pointed upwards, a timely cool ocean breeze making them grow pointy. Her belly was flat as a board and studded with firm abdominals, merging with wide, shapely feminine hips. The near totally bared ass was large, round and pert, the cheeks of a woman who had done an immense number of squats and lunges. Her legs were long and firm, those of a well practiced long distance runner.

‘Who’s the girl in the cage?’ the new comer asked of the traitorous second mate, a jerk of her pretty head indicated Seserachad. The woman’s voice was sultry and smooth, every syllable having a hint of mockery in it.

The caged princess felt a strange thrill, part fear and part lust, run up her spine as the stranger’s icy blue eyes ate her up, moving up and down her long legs and flat belly. Unfamiliar thoughts of having her head buried within those heaving breasts flashed before her, even as she felt she was being weighed like a cow at sale. The woman was eying her like a cat toying with a mouse, thinking of whether it should swallow her down or play with her first.

‘Princess Seserachad of the Serican Empire,’ the second mate replied, only after the flush of vengeance had passed realizing how scanty her own clothes had become, ‘Captain Ravanche was going to ransom her for her weight in gold. Say, er, could I get some new clothes by any chance?’

‘Ones that will fit you for a short time can be found later,’ the new Captain replied, ‘for now find me your old captain, you said that she’s skinny and mean correct?’

‘As skinny as a twig and meaner than a shark with a toothache Captain,’ the first mate responded, already bending her fat body to get a glimpse at the faces of downed pirates.

‘But pretty yes?’

‘I suppose if you like skinny little hellions,’ the first mate admitted.

‘Well she won’t stay skinny long,’ the newcomer said, turning away from the heavy set traitor, ‘Now where is my mage? Bethany, I need your attendance!’

As the tubby ex-pirate began searching the piles of captured corsairs, another woman emerged from the victorious ship, a dirty blonde who began sauntering lazily over the boarding plank. Seserachad could tell that this woman was thin, or rather more accurately that she had been thin not too long ago. The Princess was a lean girl, but she would have had to suck in her tummy to get those tight leather pants on. This woman had neither the right nor ability to even fit into her clothes, much less fasten them.

Skin tight, practically painted on black leather pants left nothing to the imagination, neither the state of growing thighs or that this woman wasn’t wearing any underware. None of the three snaps that fastened the pants were anywhere close to being closed, a bulge of soft chub preventing their meeting. The pants were held on purely by tightness, being stretched by jiggly thighs and plump cheeks they had not the spare fabric to fall down, even though a doughy muffin top pushed down their top.

A similarly overwhelmed vest failed to cover the moderate bulge of her tummy or love handles, only two of its five buttons being closed. While her commander’s firm belly rippled with muscle, this woman’s jelly belly wobbled and heaved with every step, lacking even rudimentary muscle tone. Tables of sweets and small streams of ale had gone into crafting this flabby muffin top, as had a complete disregard for exercise. The breasts that jostled and fought for whatever miniscule space was available inside the top had almost all of her mistress’ stunning size and a third of their perk, sagging even within the confines of the vest. A thick valley of plunging cleavage was displayed, attempting to make up with overfed quantity what they lacked in pert quality. Her face may have once had stunning cheekbones and a sharp chin, but now her cheeks were beginning to bulge and a definite double chin bulged beneath.

‘Yes my Queen Rachel, what need has the Lady of the Black Coast of her mighty mage?’ the woman asked with an indolent tone, one plump hand plunging into a silken bag to pull out a sugary fruit which was popped easily in between her lips.

‘Bethany, I had wanted you in the assault,’ the towering captain chided, ‘where were you at, stuffing yourself in the galley again?’

‘You wound me my fearless leader,’ the pudgy woman said in mock agony, placing a soft hand up against a softer breast, ‘I was merely recharging my repertoire of magical spells. Calling up a wind and breaking the enemy mage took a great deal out of me today.’

‘You tire quite easily since we began our adventures in these climes,’ her commander observed, walking over to her underling with hard hands on her athletic hips, at least twice as fast as the out of shape Bethany. Her index finger plunged deep into the magic user’s deep navel while her thumb hooked under a soft roll of flab and shook the wizard’s tubby gut, the entire belly bouncing like a bowl of jelly.

‘I remember that only a few months ago you could power our ship for days without taxing your reserves,’ the tall blonde teased, ‘and back then your belly was flat as a board. I’d say you’ve gained a pound a day these past six weeks and your spells have grown as soft as your ass.’

‘How dare you!’ the mage snapped, her mouth forming an outraged O that put her extra chin on full display, ‘I’m still fit as a fiddle!’

‘More like a cello I’d say,’ Rachel teased, her strong hand pinching the mage’s low hanging buns to elicit a sound half way between outraged shriek and a horny giggle.

‘I…I…,’ the magician stammered, angry at the obvious being pointed out, ‘you’re just saying it because you’re jealous, you scrawny string bean!’

Rachel laughed, her bulging chest bouncing along with her melodious voice, ‘Jealous of what my tubby sorceress, your ability to go from fit to flabby in forty days? That that behind of yours is getting so big we could use you as an anchor? Or maybe I’m jealous that you’re so out of shape I doubt you could cast another spell for months?’

‘Bah! I could incinerate this entire ship if I wanted to!’ the plump mage claimed, despite the fact that she was starting to get red in the face just from her emotional outburst.

‘Really?’ asked Rachel, crossing her corded arms across her generous breasts and trying to hide a smirk, ‘how about a lower target, turn the cage holding our dear rescued princess over there into something easier to break. Peppermint looks about as hard as you can manage.’

Rachel’s crew-women began nudging and betting amongst themselves already.

‘Ha, you wager too easy my captain! If I fail then you’ll have to stuff your gullet until your belly hides your feet from you! You won’t be so smug with an apron belly and five chins!’

‘I haven’t seen my feet since puberty Bethany,’ Rachel teased, jostling her own immense bosom for emphasis, hard enough that the heavy globes of mammary meat threatened to burst her vest, ‘but if you do manage to turn that cage into peppermint I’ll eat till my stomach pops out past them! But if you fail…well, you’re going to need some new clothes.’

Seserachad had been following the debate in some alarm as it became clear they were going to cast magic on her cage. She squealed with shock and fell to her knees, closing her eyes tight as Bethany raised her hands and began chanting a spell. Something white and sandy fell across her soft shoulders and the Princess opened her eyes to find a pile of fine powder around her on the deck. Looking closer, she realized it seemed familiar.

‘That doesn’t look like peppermint Bethany,’ Rachel said dismissively, long legs carrying her to the diminutive Seserachad in seconds. The Princess saw that she moved like a predatory cat even at risk and felt a mixture of fear at her power and lust at her obvious strength.

‘It could *huff* be powdered *puff* peppermint,’ the mage panted, soft hands resting on her plump knees as she was bent over. Her cheeks were bright red with effort and she sweated like she had run a foot race.

In response the captain rolled her eyes and dipped one hand into the pile of sugar. Rising slowly, she sucked the grains off each of fingers with exaggerated slowness, sending a confusing thrill through the no longer quite a captive Princess’ loins.

‘Sugar Bethany, its nothing but powdered sugar,’ the amazonian Rachel laughed, ‘not a trace of peppermint in it. Looks like my belly is staying flat, get back to your quarters honored sorceress, you’ve lost your bet. Whether I make you sweat or stuff you silly will depend on my mood in the morrow.’

The dejected mage began hurrying back to the other ship, as fast as her tubby legs could take her. She kept popping the sugared fruits into her mouth, as if each one might be her last or might soon become poison. Seserachad didn’t know whether to envy her or pity her.

‘So, now I come at last to you Princess Seserachad. Let me look at you, let’s see a flat belly but no tone. I’m going to guess skinny but lazy, probably with some older woman appointed to watch your food. You’ll be a slim young thing until your married, but I reckon that you’ll be fat as a sow after your first child. But that’s ephemeral How will you and your rich father thank your liberator?’ asked ‘Queen’ Rachel of her captive, standing over the still naked young woman with one eyebrow raised in mock appraisal.

‘Please don’t harm me, the Caliph will pay greatly for my return,’ Seserachad begged, ‘I’m his favorite daughter. He’ll pay my weight in gold!’

Something wild flickered in Rachel’s eyes, not as mad as captain Ravanche’s lunatic outburst but a pure sexual thrill that nothing could hide.

‘Have no fear Princess, I’d never touch a hair on your pretty head,’ the muscular Rachel teased, ‘you’ll need to eat after your ordeal. Girls, take her over to the Belt Burster. She’ll need a heavy meal to recover and find her some clothes, make sure it’s nothing constrictive. I feel she’ll need a lot of recovery.’
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Old 11-25-2014, 04:48 PM   #2
Join Date: Aug 2008
Location: Germany
Posts: 61
Borghen has said some nice things

Great start!
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Old 11-27-2014, 09:01 PM   #3
Join Date: Oct 2013
Posts: 120
Sulla has said some nice things

Chapter 2: Wherein the Princess’ has an Erotic Dream and Rachel Confront's Her Corpulent Mage’s Addiction

At the Captain’s orders, Princess Seserachad was taken over to the Belt-Burster and given a surprisingly comfortable cabin on the warship. The two armed, fit young women deposited the naked woman and brought her a heavy platter of smoked meat before leaving. It wasn’t precisely appetizing, or warm, but hungry from her ordeal as she was Seserachad devoured the platter until her belly was painfully full. There was little to explore in the room, which had only a comfortable bed, an empty dresser, a water closet and a full length mirror. The girl noted as she walked around that her belly was rounded so heavily from her meal that she might be mistaken for pregnant, but marked it off as a onetime event.

Too afraid to leave the cabin without permission, and having a few hours until she fell asleep, Seserachad worried and grieved. Her small staff of ladies in waiting and maids hadn’t exactly been likeable, in fact most of the older women had been demanding and over strict in what the Princess had been allowed to eat, wear and do. Only sparse food was allowed her to keep her belly flat, sweets were almost never given to her and fatty meats were never seen on her plates. Seserachad’s clothes had been severely modest to befit her station, long, loose and giving no hint of the slim figure she possessed. Mentally stimulating activities had been denied her to protect some idea of ‘purity’ and propriety, even poetry had been denied her. But they had been the only friends she had known and the girl wept for them briefly.

Fear was also at hand for her, for the Princess might have only traded one form of captivity for another. Her new quarters were comfortable and the strange Captain had said that she merely wanted reward for saving her, but there was an uncomfortable tension about the terms Seserachad couldn’t figure out. Ravanche had been terrifying, but easy to understand. Rachel on the other hand was difficult to puzzle out, she had acted kindly but Seserachad had personally see the Captain butchering her way across an entire pirate crew. Stranger was the look in her blue eyes as she’d eyed the Princess and talked about how she’d gain weight. It was insulting… but also awoke odd urges within Seserachad. She wanted to run her hands over those firm muscles and put her lips on those soft breasts…

The girl fell asleep not long after that to odd, erotic dreams. She saw herself in the Captain’s firm arms, her head buried deep between her huge breasts. Rachel pushed her away, her right hand suddenly holding a sizzling pastry fresh from the oven. Seserachad ate it down in quick bites, while the buxom woman’s free hand plunged between the Princess’ thighs to caress her sex. In her dream she moaned and sighed, while sweet after sweet was stuffed into her mouth. As the sensations climbed her body grew heavier and softer: small breasts grew to eclipse Rachel’s buxom busom, but lower and saggier. Her flat belly ballooned outwards, going from flat to a stuffed round dome to a soft double belly to an immense apron gut that hung down to her knees. Slender limbs grew thick and clumsy when she began to scream the Captain’s name aloud; her thighs now thicker than her waist once was and her slim calves having turned into cankles. By the time her climax came her gelatinous, quivering body was unrecognizable.

Seserachad awoke late with the sun already arisen, sweaty with hair disheveled and the sheets wrapped around her lithe body. All of the muscles in her thighs and abdomen were painfully sore, as if greatly used. A dream like this had never happened to her before and she was afraid it was some sort of sin. Awaking tired, scared, sore and confused, she did know one thing for sure.

She was hungry.


By the time her liberated prisoner had awoken, Rachel was already long awoken from her Captain’s quarters. Awaking slightly horny, for business had prevented the steely limbed beauty from sating several urges of late, the iron bellied woman dressed into a skimpy pair of leather briefs and pushed those erotic urges aside for later, now was the time to undertake the exercises that kept her so strong and fit. Running the stairs of the deck, climbing the masts, lifting heavy weights and practicing with her many, many weapons gave the Captain time to think.

‘So many things to do today,’ Rachel said, doing pull ups a hundred feet above the deck, her arms pumping to bring her firm chin and full breasts above the yard-arn for the two hundredth time, ‘loot to sort, crew to shout at … and oh yes, lots of poundage to start handing out. Who shall I start on first…’

Glorious body covered in a sheen of sweat, the blonde pulled herself onto the yardarm and swan dived down to the sea far below, landing with a splash. Emerging sopping wet, she swam strongly back to her ship’s side and climbed up the anchor chain with ease. Athletically flipping onto the deck, Rachel shouted at the first crew woman she saw, a wide hipped red head whose otherwise firm body had just enough meat on her rear to stretch the seams of her tight skirt and low cut blouse.

‘Cassandra,’ she ordered, remembering her name instantly, having saved her ‘Sword-Sister, I need you to bring our liberated captive a treble serving of breakfast. The more she eats the more we get paid.’

‘Of course my lady!’ the early riser exclaimed, ecstatic to have been given a personal order, ‘She won’t get skinny under my care!’

The just slightly padded red head, turned back to the galley, giving the Captain a good view of round buns stretching out the cream fabric of her skirt. Pleasurable tingle instantly started inside her already wet shorts, her lusts untapped for too long. Rachel’s blue eyes snapped to the hypnotic sway for a moment before she had to call out.

‘Oh and Cassandra…,’ Rachel stopped her, ‘you’re looking a bit thin…make sure you get an extra portion yourself.’

‘Of course my lady! I’ll eat double from now on!’, the other corsair agreed, instantly banishing thoughts on how her skirts had gotten a bit tight lately and how she should cut back on the pie. If her lady-captain told her something was so, it was certain to be that way regardless of what her senses told her.

For a moment Rachel watched her go, until those enticing round hips sashayed into the galley. Snapping back as the girl disappeared, she brought her hands up to her wet forehead before running them through her sopping hair. Sighing at the thought that one of her crew was soon to be much less adept at battle, she began sauntering back to her own quarters.

‘Get it together, Rachel,’ the Captain mentally berated herself, ‘you saved that girl from a slave caravan and taught her how to live freely, how to fight. She worships the ground you walk on and trusts you implicitly. That its been a while since you’ve gotten laid doesn’t excuse all but telling her to go chub up. Especially when she needs to lose ten pounds already and you’ve got two tempting little targets to do nothing but fill out. I’ll need to find her and cut her rations back. But first I need dry clothes…and to talk to Bethany.’

Muscular thighs pumping, the freebooter femme quickly reached her quarters, filled with weapons, armor and a collection of odd alchemy ingredients, changing into knee high leather boots, skin tight hose and a creamy blouse that she left unbuttoned. Cinched tightly about her skinny waist was a sword belt, from which hung a lethally fast short sword perfect for close quarters. She took her time getting ready, knowing that her mage had grown excessively lazy since Rachel and her band had taken up pirate hunting. The mage hadn’t arisen before noon in months, at first the Captain had thought it sea sickness but as the mage missed more work out sessions and grew plumper and plumper, Rachel put it down to laziness.

‘Hopefully Bethany doesn’t do anything stupid,’ Rachel muttered to herself, grabbing one of many potions from her desk as she left, ‘she’s always been a vain one and I may have been too harsh yesterday. She won’t have appreciated being made a fool of in front of all the girls.’

It was only a short walk to the mage’s quarters, the other woman having taken over the second mate’s cabin. To her surprise there were sounds inside, mutterings mixed with heavy steps and slurred mutterings. Rachel took a deep breath, guzzled the potion and knocked.

‘Beth, its me open up,’ she began, to no answer.

‘Come on Beth, we need to talk,’ followed to no response, ‘We need to talk.’

‘Listen, I’m sorry about yesterday. Let me help.’

The door exploded outwards with telekinetic force, almost knocking Rachel overboard. Only lightning reflexes let her grab the railing and pull herself back up to face her outraged sorceress friend. Bethany was a frightful, and enticing sight, filling the doorway as the short woman was floating several feet above the ground.

‘Help me!’ the mage screamed in an outraged voice, ‘You did this to me!’

The witch gestured to herself on the last line, causing Rachel to double take at her friend’s changed form. Normally hazel eyes glowed with purple light, while the spell caster’s soft face was split by a feral grin and an odd wind blew her short blonde hair wild. More interestingly, Bethany had gotten even fatter overnight and was totally nude bar for a small silken bag around her wrist. Thunder thighs touched half way to the knee, with cellulite patches spreading on their sides. Yesterday’s well fed paunch had become embarrassingly large and was starting to hang. Thick hips brushed the doorways and her overfull ass would have made a mockery of any clothes aboard ship. Breasts that were already over large for her petite frame and saggy were now big enough to stretch down to her navel.

‘Calm down Beth. You know that’s not my handiwork love,’ Rachel said, leg muscles tensing to pounce, ‘even I don’t work that fast.’

‘Fattening liar!’ the furious mage roared, purple energy swirling around her fist, ‘have a taste of your own medicine!’

Rachel managed to dodge the blast, slowed as it was by the graceless heave of Bethany’s doughy arm. Risking a quick glance, the railing the bolt struck seemed to swell up before Rachel’s eyes, the rails rounding out until they touched each other. The effect it would have on flesh was obvious.

‘Okay I don’t want to get hit by that,’ Rachel said as she ducked under another bolt, ‘and you’re breaking my ship! This is your last chance Bethany, stop floating and shooting or I take you down the hard way!’

‘Ugh! Stop moving!’ roared the maddened, engorged mage beginning to pant with effort as she floated from her chamber door and onto the deck, her heavy body hanging lower now as the spells on her hands flickered, ‘Skinny little bitch, I’ll show you what fat feels like! You won’t be so quick with five hundred pounds of blubber on your frame!’

Taking a handful of something from the bag on her wrist, Bethany popped it into her mouth and the flagging magic roared to life, while her body rounded out another ten pounds or so, just enough to finish out her third chin and causing her paunch to begin to double. She launched stream of spells from both hands, an inescapable flurry of shots.

‘Oh fuck my life,’ Rachel muttered, tensing to try and dodge as the fattening spells closed
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Old 11-29-2014, 07:44 PM   #4
Join Date: Oct 2013
Posts: 120
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Chapter 3: Where Rachel Partially Dodges Death

Dozens of bolts were launched by laughing Bethany, a conflagration of arcane might that could smother dozens. No normal woman could have dodged all those mystic missiles, not even any of Rachel's crew sisters. But their Captain was made of sterner stuff: she had been trained in a dozen schools of acrobatics and martial arts since the day she could walk and her height and muscle came from having the superhuman blood of Amazons on both sides. If there was anyone in the world who could move through the magical maelstrom to down the Mage launching it, it was Rachel.

Muscles like steel cables tensed and sprang, propelling Rachel high into the air. Tucking her lithe legs and twisting as she soared, the Captain went over one bolt, angled past a second and spun beneath a third. But even the Blondes perfect reflexes couldn't completely protect her. As she stretched out her legs to land, one of the pink spheres brushed her hip, instantly merging with her body. When Rachel hit the ground an unfamiliar jiggle reverberated up her body and she felt as if she had fell into a warm bath.

Had she had time to examine herself, Rachel would have noticed slight damage across her impressive physique. Her flawless musculature, earned from decades of pitiless, daily workouts and diets, was faded, looking instead like a she would if she occasionally took exercise and ate often at the bakery. Perfect abs had been swapped with a slight starter belly that formed a baby paunch over her suddenly too snug pants. Those magnificent breasts defied gravity no longer and rested lower, straining her blouse. Runners legs had lost their tone, thighs muffin topping over her narrow boots and plump, bouncy backside stretched her pants to the breaking point. But Rachel ignored the thirty pounds of fat added to her frame, as well as Bethany's mocking laugh and the gasps of her crew girls.

The moment her heels hit the ground, Rachel tucked and rolled into a somersault, a few small rolls forming as she did, scooting along the deck and beneath several more bolts. Her unbuckled sword belt was left on the deck by a quick snap of her fingers, and Rachel tumbled into standing position. But before she could move two more bolts struck her, each slapping into her ample posterior from behind to add thirty more pounds each. Again Rachel felt the warm bath sensation, this time coupled with pain as her clothes pinched against her instant expansion.

Almost all but the barest hints of former athleticism faded away, replaced with an image of fat, faded glory, what Rachel would look like after a decade of retirement into gluttonous ease. Once flawless butt cheeks surged down and out, widening and softening as they ripped open the grey seat of Rachel's pants to reveal two soft, doughy spheres. Several tears formed above her thighs, as the material ran out of room to give before the advance of her thunder thighs, thick as most girls' waists, slapping together. From a slight starter to a massive keg surged Rachel's gut, round, tanned and heavy, it's slightly sagging bulk popping the brass button of her pants and two buttons on her blouse with its soft force. Another pair of buttons gave way as the corsairs breasts soaked up their share of the adipose deluge. Round, soft and now very low hanging, they ripped two shirt buttons open in their race to hang free.

But not a grimace or frown split Rachel's now fat cheeked face at the loss of her well deserved athleticism, so focused was she on achieving victory. Clothes splitting beneath the pressure of her wobbling body, she started zigg zagging as she approached Bethany, knowing that the sorceress' spell had taken further tumbling out of the question. Usually her endurance was enough to run for hours, but the strain of carrying so much extra fat was making even her huff and puff, her round cheeks reddening and sweat forming on her skin. She was slower now and a larger target, meaning more of the bolts struck her, making her slower and larger still.

By the time she was standing before plump, maddened Bethany, Rachel was unrecognizable as the athletic demigod dress she'd been less than a minute before. She may have dodged most of the bulk expanding spells, but at least ten had struck her, enough to swell her into a ball of lard that was nearer five hundred pounds than four hundred.

Her chaffing thunder thighs slapped together, no longer confidently sprinting but slowly waddling. Rachel's perfect bubble butt was so wide and so low it had merged into her thighs, becoming one vast spread of cellulite coated blubber. Instead of a six pack, the fat apron of her belly hung down by her thighs and her fabulous breasts defied attempts at containment, bouncing low and free with massive stretched nipples and not a hint of perkiness.

Her clothing hung in tatters, more by being caught in the multitude of rolls and bulges that hung off her than by actually fitting. Sleeves encased her engorged, bingo winged arms like sausage skin, while her tight leather boots had split down to the foot by the unstoppable sprawl of her new cankles. Somehow the spiked heels were intact and the deck groaned under the unbelievable pressure a quarter ton of sloth inflicted on them. Yet somehow Rachel still kept plodding forwards, desperate to keep her slowing momentum.

Many crew girls stood shocked and amazed by the sight before them. Stunned enough by Bethany turning on the captain, they were affixed by the sight of their Captains perfect body ballooning into morbid obesity before their very eyes. Conflicting emotions held them still: All of them worshipped the ground Rachel walked on, but none could deny a bit if schadenfreude at watching her nigh unattainable form go beyond soft. Lust also played apart, Rachel had taught them the appreciation of a rounder female form and her newly fattened figure caused many a pair of panties to grow damp. Thoughts of prodding, pinching and licking that huge form kept them frozen, the orders from their thinking mines outmatched by those of their purring loins.

Bethany for her part, was stunned, or as well as a mad woman could be stunned. She'd eaten enough of her magic boosting treats to pump her with five times the magical potential, as well as sixty more pounds, she'd had when slender and fit. The fattening spell odd voices had whispered to her mind, offended by yesterday's humiliation at Rachel's hand, should have made her former ally far too heavy to move. Even accounting for all the bolts she had dodged, Rachel should be so fat that her rotund form should have shattered the deck.

'How, how are you moving?!' Beth shouted, unable to retreat, cast a spell or realize that sugar rush of arcane energy her addicting snacks had given her was near faded.

Thus, the insane Mage was frozen solid in shock as Rachel loomed above her, the towering woman a wall of lard nearly as wide as she was tall.

Rachel was an expert at a dozen fighting styles, a master of sweeps, locks, chops, punches and pressure points. A minute ago she could have kicked Bethany double, broken her arm with an arm bar and knocked her out by tapping a pressure point on her neck. But with black dots spotting her eyes and three hundred extra pounds of lard making her as maneuverable as a prize sow, her options were limited.

Rachel's punch was clumsy, driven as it was by an arm thick as her waist was earlier. It was slow and put the newly obese woman even more off balance, so pathetic that her fighting masters would have berated her. But it was enough to floor Bethany. The plump Mage hit the ground cold, her plump features wobbling and her panting feller wavering above her.

'*PANT* Help...,' Rachel gasped to her crew, 'help me down!'

Forgetting lust and terror, a score of warrior maidens rushed to her aid as other sword sisters emerged and the freed Princess Seserachad left her cabin at the commotion, wearing not but an ill fitting robe over a belly swollen with breakfast. Slim fingers seized the doughy folds of her fat, lithe hands grabbed her rotund limbs and guided Rachel down to rest on her flabby haunches. Seeing she was panting with exertion, three of the slender beauties stripped themselves of their low cut shirts or tight dresses, using the skimpy garments to fan her while their plump breasts bounced in the breeze. The air and the sight of half a dozen high breasts revitalized the flagging woman, who managed to suck in enough air to speak and grabbed the soft arm of the nearest girl, who happened to be Princess Seserachad.

'My quarters, back right corner of the biggest table,' she gasped through her flabby jowls, 'there's a black box. Bring it and be damn careful!'

Nodding her pretty head, the limber girl set off, bare feet slapping on the deck and full belly gurgling its displeasure. Never in shape even without a triple breakfast down her gullet, the Princess was gagging by the time she reached the captains quarters. Inside the room were more books than the sheltered girl had ever seen, racks of weapons, stands of armor and several tables bearing row upon row of locked, carefully secured chests. Seizing the surprisingly heavy box as instructed she took it outside where crew girls were gagging, blind folding and binding Bethany's tubby unconscious form.

The press of supple women parted at Rachel's gasping instruction, letting Seserachad pass through with her burden. Rachel's over taxed limbs lacked the strength to hold the box and her sausage fingers the skill to open it, forcing the princess to do so. Inside were six, heart shaped necklaces of silver, hanging on very long chains, a well sealed steel bottle that sloshed three fourths full and a shot glass with red tic marks labelled 1 to 100 on the side.

'Fetch the prisoner and bind her tight,' Rachel ordered to five of her warriors before turning her flabby head to address the crowd.

'And this girls, is why you always skip desert,' she joked, earning an uneasy laugh, 'but girls, your luscious Captain has found herself unusually voluptuous and needs your assistance. Who here would die for me?'

There was a chorus of assents from the crowd, all but the topless trio fanning Rachel's morbid bulk raising their hands.

'Well I don't ask anything as severe or permanent as that ladies,' Rachel said, a smile at her crews loyalty splitting her face, 'but I'm going to need a few of you to take up some excess weight...'
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Old 12-04-2014, 09:59 PM   #5
Join Date: Oct 2013
Posts: 120
Sulla has said some nice things

Chapter 4: A Transfer of Poundage, the Humbling of a Prisoner and a Conspiracy is Hatched

The scene on the ship’s deck was an unusual one. A hundred beautiful young women, all of them fit, scantily clad and under thirty surrounded another, much heavier and much more naked woman. A few were hurrying on errands from their now massive leader, carrying cushions and putting up a pavilion to shade her from the rising sun. For those surrounding Rachel, their expressions were eager and serious, weighing whether their love for their Captain was enough to take up the burden offered to them.

‘These amulets are old,’ Rachel explained, all six of them in her pudgy fist, held out for display to her eager crew, ‘I found them and the formula for their use in a ruin a thousand years old. I have no idea who made them, or how, but I can guess why. The lockets are placed around the necks of multiple people and one of them takes a shot of a special formula. Afterwards, excess is transferred from the drinker’s body at rate of one pound to each other locket an hour, until the original drinker takes off the amulet or the receivers have gained fifty pounds. I have to warn any perspective volunteers, you’re going to get downright fat using this.’

‘Exactly, how fat?’ asked a voice with the accent of the Castillian peninsula, coming from a tall, very lean woman with long black hair.

‘Matilda, my arms master putting things in perspective,’ smiled Rachel, previously never seen dimples forming on her face as she smiled, ‘not quite as fat as me, at least, but you’ll be kissing that flat stomach and skinny legs good bye if you put on the locket. I’ve put on at least three hundred pounds since dawn and everyone who volunteers is going to be putting on fifty pounds of chub to get me out of this predicament. You’ll be rewarded with double your share from our latest catches, taken from my own cut of the plunder, and you’ll be excused any duties for the next few weeks until you slim down.’

‘What…what if we don’t want to slim down?’ asked Cassandra, the red head with the well upholstered rear end whom Rachel had ordered to take a double breakfast that morning.

‘Well dear, if you get too flabby to perform your duties you’ll have to leave the crew, especially if you won’t lose it. If we got rid of that rule I’d have all of you turning each other into blobs within the month,’ there was a giggle from her girls, each of them privately picturing the others carrying heaps of excess weight while they themselves were still slender, ‘but as you’d be volunteering, you’ll get a more than suitable bonus. Large amounts of coin and if you’d like, a few letters from me to the right people could get you married to a suitably rich and attentive man or woman. I’m only going to need two of you…’

For a moment none of the girls spoke and Rachel’s eyes flickered across the sea of hesitant faces. Almost every woman in the crew couldn’t deny the joy fattening up someone else brought, yet for most the idea of letting themselves go was more of an abstract thing. Each might think of one day putting down the sword and letting themselves go, but putting on sixty pounds in the span of a few days was too much, too fast.

‘I’ll do it,’ volunteered Princess Seserachad, the words leaping from her mouth before she knew they were out. Many of the crew looked at the freed captive in alarm, almost forgetting the pampered woman was there. She stood before their fearsome gazes, a soft skinned if not yet soft bellied young woman fresh out of girl hood having showed up five score fearsome corsairs. The tiny silk robe seemed to grow even shorter and thinner before their gaze.

‘I can’t ask that of you Princess,’ Rachel said, turning her torso with difficulty to face her, vast belly sliding across her once trim thighs as she did, ‘you’re not part of the crew.’

‘Well…well,’ Seserachad stammered, trying to mentally come up with a reason why that didn’t’ matter, ‘so what? I’m not fighting anyway and if father has to cough up an extra sixty pounds of gold to free me its no matter. I planned on eating like a pig the whole time I was aboard and you yourself said I was doomed to fatten up when I get pregnant. Why wait?’

‘You’re eagerness commends you girl,’ Rachel smiled, ‘in light of what you’ve said, I guess letting you carry some of this excess weight is tolerable. Is there anyone else?’

‘I’ll do it,’ volunteered Cassandra, ‘you’d told me I needed to fill out some more anyway. And for the excess… I guess I’ll have a while to see how much I like it or not.’

‘Thank you girls,’ said Rachel, already knocking a hundred pounds off of her weight, ‘that’s a big relief for me. In truth I’m not completely sure if this will work, the spells Bethany put out is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Usually these things work slower or all at once, not in thirty pound bolts. Hopefully this method should knock most of the fat off me.’

‘What about the other three lockets?’ the slender weapon’s master Matilda asked, ‘pardon me, but even adding fifty pounds of soft voluptuousness to these girls isn’t going to get you back to where you were. In fact, even with all of the amulets used you’re still going to be carrying fifty extra pounds if the amulet is going to be believed.’

‘Yes, that cursed limit means that there’s going to be some difficulty for me,’ the Captain admitted, hands reaching with some difficulty past her huge breasts to squeeze her stomach, ‘but putting on weight like this isn’t something easily cured. As for the other amulets, this is Bethany’s fault so she’s getting at least some of it. And for the other hundred pounds of it… well our prisoner is going to have an eventful lunch.’

‘Ha, suits the skinny bitch right,’ Matilda laughed, a bit hypocritically considering her razor thin physique, ‘but why wait?’

‘The potion has to have a clear environment to work,’ Rachel explained, ‘no alchemical potions in the drinker at all. I’ve got to wait until noon before the resist magic potion I took before confronting our dear insane mage wears off. I’m lucky I did, I must have resisted two thirds of what she hit me with just because of that potion. I’d rather four hours as a tub of lard before I start losing weight than weight thrice what I do now!’

At noon, Captain Jessene Ravanche was pulled kicking and spitting from her cell in the ship’s brig by Matilda and five other crew girls. She fought hard, even though there were three steel armed maidens holding her tight on either side. Despite their numbers and greater per woman strength, several took blows from her scything feet or painful scratches from nails before her bony hands were forced into manacles. Still she spat and cursed at them, refusing to walk forwards and having to be dragged.

It took several minutes for the six women to haul the short, slight figure up to the deck, the captured pirate Captain cursing the entire time. Bar her manacles and eye patch she was nude, every wiry sinew standing up and her small breasts bouncing high as she tried to escape, mainly for the protection of her captors rather than any attempt at extra humiliation. Ravanche weighed barely a hundred pounds and stood only a hair over five feet but she was near bursting from her captors and running over the ship’s side before her sole eye caught sight of Rachel, the now obese captain surrounded by her crew. A laugh, high and harsh ushered from her pale lips at the sight of her capturer’s predicament, for the blonde was a far cry from her former imposing figure.

When last Jessene had glimpsed Rachel, she had been a paragon of speed, beauty and power, striding across the now captured Wind Ripper to leave only destruction in her wake. Now the Captain of the Belt Buster sprawled across her own deck, trapped under her own quivering bulk such that she couldn’t stand. The immense apron of her gut hung down to touch the deck between the lazy sprawl of her cellulite dotted thighs. Before the heaving sight of Rachel’s perfect breasts had flickered a spark of envy in Ravanche’s blackened heart, but now those large firm mounds had collapsed into hanging sacks of flabby dough that reached her navel.

‘What happened oh conquering queen of the seas!?’ laughed Ravanche, ‘Did you eat all the plunder you took from my ship? Or was your mail holding all of that flab in?’

‘Laugh while you may bitch,’ Rachel returned, much of her imperious tone regained as she recaptured her wind, helped by a dozen of her girls fanning her with palm leaves and the shade of a pavilion raised on the deck.

Three others were engaged rubbing her roll covered bulk in a soft creamy lotion, made from elephant milk and designed to keep Rachel’s golden skin supple, their palms delighting in exploring every fold and bulge of their leader’s newly engorged body and they took every excuse to rube their own nude figures onto the captain’s soft expanse. All of them had stripped down to nothing, the sway of their nubile bodies and the bounce of their firm breasts serving as Rachel’s entertainment while she was stuck immobile. The sword sisters loved and respected their captain, but they also lusted after her in their heart of hearts and many were happy. Rachel may no longer be able to lead them from the front, but all of them were delighted at the thought of stroking her now soft form into orgasm, of fondling those vast breasts and losing themselves in her hugeness, as well as hand feeding her into yet further heaviness. Never again would she flaunt her perfection in front of them and they could let themselves run softer without her example.

For her part, the blonde beauty was trying immensely not to panic at being rendered into a gigantic ball of fat. While she loved her books and fine clothes, not for Rachel was a life of sloth and gluttony, endlessly munching on candies and sweets upon a jeweled couch as her form grew ever larger. Rachel loved the rush of running through unexplored hills, the gallop of a fast horse between her legs, the thrill of matching blades with a foe out for her blood, the pleasure of scrambling hand over hand up a thousand foot cliff and the looks of envy other weaker women shot her as she flaunted her perfect body. The woman had a plan to try and undo the spell Bethany had cast upon her and thus regain her figure within the week. If that method failed, then trying to track down the substance that had corrupted her mage was possible, but difficult in her current state. After that all she had were diet and exercise, which could take years…

‘I do indeed appear to have let myself go a bit,’ Rachel laughed, one puffy hand gripping one of her multitude of rolls, squeezing and letting them go with a bounce, ‘but you’re going to help with that Captain Ravanche.’

‘I wouldn’t spit to help you,’ Ravanche spat at her, an action that earned her a half dozen punches to the belly from her guards, bending the skinny red head over in pain.

‘You won’t need to do anything so physical,’ Rachel laughed, ‘at first I thought that I would need to turn five of my girls tubby to fix my current predicament, but you’re enough of a bitch that I think you could stand for two of them. Besides, you’re scrawny enough that sixty pounds of blubber would do you good.’

‘Stop! What are you doing!’ Ravanche cried, as two sword sisters in full mail approached her, each carrying one of the golden necklaces from the chest Rachel had had Seserachad fetch from her cabin. Once placed over her neck, the long chains tightened, growing flush with her neck to the point that nothing Ravanche could do would remove them. She couldn’t see it, but both necklaces glowed slightly before numerals appeared on them, each showing 103.

‘Take her back to the cell,’ Rachel commanded the guards, taking the mystic shot of her potion ‘and watch her close, around the clock. She may try and injure herself to undo the ritual and we can’t have that. You can take the manacles off of her in the cell, they’re going to be tight soon.’


Princess Seserachad laid upon her cushions in the shade of Rachel’s pavillion, a glass of sweet fruit juice in her one hand and the last of a baker’s dozen of pastries in the other. Their fellows were inside the Princess’ belly, digesting inside the cramped space. Rachel had rewarded her service in fetching the box with even more treats and a place by her side under the pavilion, where the breeze of the nude fan girls eased the blaze of the setting sun. Seserachad gloried in the exalted place and the continuous stream of goodies brought to her, eating and drinking them up.

Evidence of this was in her stomach, which was if anything even more swollen than earlier in the day. The small belt that kept the halves of the silky robe she had been given closed was long since undone and Seserachad’s naked torso was on full display. Her breasts, high and ripe with youthful firmness, stood out high above the packed dome of her tummy and in between them was the golden gleam of her ritual necklace, with the number 124 upon it. Below her chest was the girl’s once flat stomach, which was rounded out and bloated like a woman late in her pregnancy, sticking out so far to rest upon her sleek thighs. Small rumbles and gurgles came from the over taxed stomach, which was unused either to constant munching or constant food. But despite this, for once that day the Princess didn’t feel guilty over her gluttony, even with the nude forms of Rachel’s fan girls and masseuses displaying their flat bellies before her.

How could she have ever thought that thinness was desirable, after seeing Rachel as she was now? Voluptuous as a goddess, soft bodied and huge chested like the first deities humans carved from stone, comparing Rachel’s new magnificence to her old body was like comparing the sun to a candle. To worship her body through sex and through adding soft mass to her own figure was all that Seserachad wanted. Dainty lips finished her last pastry and she leaned back against the pillows, rubbing her stomach as the necklace changed to 125.


Long after a slightly smaller Rachel had fallen asleep, a dangerously delectable conversation was afoot, deep in the bilges of the ship where none could hear. A single flickering candle lit the scene, the small light tilting with the ships rocking. Three women stood in the near darkness, each of them members of Rachel's crew.

First there was Matilda, aside from Rachel the best swords woman on the ship and in her Captains absence, leader of the boarding parties. Clad in mail, at thirty she was slim as a spear, her tall body lacking any trace of curve bar a slightly muscular butt and very small breasts. A knights bastard, her narrow face was haughty and aristocratic, framed by long black curls.

On the lean woman's right was Josephine, the ships doctor. Her body was curvaceous and soft, prior to Bethany and Rachel's expansion she was easily the chubbiest girl on the ship. Her four years of schooling had each left ten pounds on the twenty four year old doctor, who was oft teased and much sought by the slender crew. Her belly was just slightly wider than her round hips, her thighs touched slightly and her DDs had a heaviness lacked by the nubile sword maidens. Her strained green dress showed the brunettes excusal from ship board exercise, many of those pounds had come from her lover Matilda.

Last of all was Cassandra, the young crew girl who had earned Rachel's lust that morn with her wide hips and soft rear. The red heads belly was swollen and sore from three double portions that day, Rachel having not descended her erroneous order. Her lithe figure had a life span of months now, not that she realized it, being happy to go in eating in till she matched the Captains new weight unless told to stop. This would be true if Josephine and Matilda hadn't been stuffing her silly in threesomes twice a week for the past month, the source of her new found posterior. She alone was nervous, jumping with every creak as she feared discovery.

Around Cassandra's graceful neck was one of the five amulets, currently reading 139. The extra weight streaming from the Captain was already evident, the red heads thighs jiggled softly above her boots, her already large posterior was even softer than in the morn and her small breasts seemed inflated. Her clothes, always skimpy, threatened to rip apart, especially around her prominent food baby.

'I don't think this is right,' Cassandra whined, 'if Rachel says she wants to get thin again, shouldn't we obey her? She's the Captain...'

'This isn't disobeying her,' Matilda justified, 'we are merely helping her without knowing it. She will still be the captain, we will still follow her orders. Well just do them from further ahead.'

'Im not sure,' the younger red head hesitated, 'it feels wrong...'

' what about that glorious body could be wrong?' Josephine asked, 'those curves, those bulges, those breasts! I thought she was beautiful before, but now she's like an Angel. To grow so fat, so quick is clearly the will of the Goddess.'

'But how can she fight? ' Cassandra asked, the poor girl confused, 'she can't see her feet!'

'Rachel is worth more as a leader than as a blade,' Matilda said, 'most captains don't fight anyway. Right now she's just panicking, but give her time and she'll accept her, ahem, new roll. Picture her, round as a goddess with a never ceasing stream of servants carrying her food. Well compete everyday to see who gets to feed her, to massage her, to pleasure her. But she'll still be Captain, still give the orders except for at the front of a battle.'

'She might even want to retire,' said Josephine, 'think about that! We could find some unclaimed island full of doe eyed, nubile natives and set Rachel up as a fertility goddess with us as her priestesses. I know she'd love scores of savage girls waiting on her.'

'But... But...,' the budding pear murmured, trying to fight off images of her soft bottomed form wearing naught but a tan sucking on Rachel's stretched nipple, 'how would we even do it? She's already drank the potions and put on the amulets. She's losing four pounds an hour since noon! She's already dropped thirty two pounds and looks a little smaller. I know my clothes are already getting snugger. '

'Yes and they'll keep getting snugger for a while. Its a shame to think Rachel will lose another seventy five lbs until its your shift to bring her lunch tomorrow at noon,' the soft doctor said, a pudgy hand pushing a stray lock of brown hair back, 'but its unavoidable. She'll be down a third from her peak weight, but still its enough to make her too fat to work out much. Just stir this powder into her orange juice and watch her drink.'

'What is it, and why can't we give it to her now?'

'Its a powder from the eastern lands,' Matilda explained pulling a small vial from her belt, filled with orange powder, 'Used by alchemists who accidentally ingest poison to cure themselves. It and its side effects are our godsend. Once consumed, it slows the metabolism to a crawl, makes the consumer hungry as a starving boar and flushes out any other drug from their system and makes them immune to anything else alchemical for weeks. We can't give it to her now because it tastes awful when not mixed with orange juice, she'd notice it for sure. But it all depends on your assent Cass...'

Cassandra took the powder, quivering as she was caught between uncertainty and lust. She loved her Captain and would follow her every word...but couldn't deny the glory that was Rachel's new form. For a moment she hesitated before nodding her head with a bounce of red curls.

'Ill do it.'
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Old 12-04-2014, 10:00 PM   #6
Join Date: Oct 2013
Posts: 120
Sulla has said some nice things

Chapter 5: A Mage Awakens, the Princess’ Growing Curves, A Conspiracy Off the Rails

Belt-Buster was a large ship, even at its construction for the Guild Navy of Aquitaine it possessed many chambers, holds and cabins. Upon acquiring it in a game of cards, Rachel had had several of these rooms properly enchanted to hold dangerous magical objects or users, knowing from long experience that she was bound to stumble upon hostile, probably fattening magery sooner rather than later. In one of these cells, with pentagramic wards worked upon the walls in silver, lay the flabby sorceress Bethany, out cold for nearly twenty hours.

Slowly the woman awoke, right eye blinking away a dose of sleeping drugs, her left swollen shut still from the blow Rachel had landed. Confusion reigned in her mind at the darkness and at the burning thirst in her throat, as well as a positively painful hunger in her belly. Attempts to lick her lips met with a fabric barrier, for a thick cloth had gagged the mage, and likewise trying to remove the gag or massage her aching stomach was met by realization that her hands had been wrapped in rolls of gauze and then also bound together. A chill made her realize she was nude and worst of all, every movement felt impossibly slow, as if she was laying in thick syrup.

Bethany heard a noise in the dark, the movement of graceful feet that could only signify one of Rachel’s crew. A door opened, outlining an hour glass form for a fraction of a second during which a few silent words were spoken, then closed, as her watcher returned to her seat. Bethany had no idea how or why she had come to be bound and gagged on her own ship, but knew that trying to escape might only worsen her predicament. Laying still for a few minutes, her breath curiously strained, she heard very heavy foot steps, loud enough to sound like an ogre in full armor on the creaking deck.

Again the door opened, the small amount of light that filtered around the mammoth shape in the door hurt Bethany’s eyes, before she adjusted. A huge woman filled the door, the light from outside enough to demonstrate just how unbelievably fat she was, so gigantic that her fat hid most of herself. A leg woman at heart, Bethany’s eyes instantly locked onto wobbling tree trunk thighs, thicker than her own slim waist by far, they touched almost to the knee. Moving up she saw hips almost as thick as the doorway, soft and round with pinchable fat. They merged into drooping lovehandles, sagging sacks of lard that over hung a skirt made of far too little yellow silk. The lowest portion of her double belly hung low over the skirt, obscuring most of the garment and bouncing against her mid thigh. Much of her upper gut was blocked by the largest pair of breasts Bethany had ever seen, heavy and stretched they reached down to her belly button, their down pointing nipples stretched like saucers. A golden necklace with the numerals 380 dangled in between those swollen hooters. Finally, her face was bloated and puffy, jowls and chins giving her a babyish appearance. Only the pair of piercing blue eyes, now made piggish by folds of fat, were recognizable.

‘Rachel…is that you?’ gasped Bethany as her silent guard took the gag off her mouth, shocked to see her notoriously fit commander grown into a waddling landwhale so much she didn’t even notice the guard unwrapping the gauze around her hands.

‘Yes, unfortunately,’ the now fat woman said, resting herself against the doorframe, the wood creaking and her fat folds squelching up against it, ‘and its your fault. Unbind her and give her water.’

‘But…But how?’ the Mage stammered, her memory vacant of anything and knowing that she had no power to turn her Amazonian commander into this swollen parody, soundlessly she took a glass of water from her guard, drinking it down to ease her parched throat.

‘You’ve been addicted to something for at least two months,’ Rachel explained, her clumsy, sausage like fingers holding up the small leather bag Bethany had had tied to her wrist, ‘whatever was in here is empty now, but this must have been one hell of a bag of holding because you didn’t go a minute without munching one for six weeks. Eventually you went completely mad, eyes glowing and everything and started throwing around some type of magic I’d never seen before. It turned me into this pile of lard before I knocked you down. We’ve had you in here under sleeping drugs for the past day to get whatever it is out of your system.’

‘I’m so sorry Rachel…’Bethany said, ashamed at herself for hurting her friend, ‘I know how much you worked for your body. If there is anything I can do to help you…’

‘I’m already handling it,’ Rachel said, tapping her necklace, ‘I was a hundred pounds heavier yesterday morning. Now I’m dropping weight by the minute at the expense of a few others. Another day and I’ll be small enough to start losing the rest myself.’

‘I’m glad the amulet still works,’ the Mage said, ‘who are the unfortunates taking up your poorly gotten pudge?’

‘A skinny little princess we liberated with the last ship, a plump hipped crew girl who was buying a one way trip to tubbytown anyway, a pirate bitch we captured whose getting a double dose and you.’

‘What…what…do…’gasped Bethany, looking down at herself for the first time, her breath freezing in her chest in shock.

Mages had a long reputation of being vain and prideful of their figures, even in the lands of the Grand Empire where noble woman ate themselves round the mages kept themselves slender, and Bethany was no exception. The short, petite woman loved to flaunt her rail thin, slinky figure, showing off her flat belly in tiny tops and her thigh gap in skin tight pants. But now her girlish figure, which magic had let her keep well into her forties with minimal upkeep, was gone. Shocked, her now unbound and unbandaged hands began to pinch and feel her drastically changed belly.

Bethany’s concave stomach was now an immense paunch, like Rachel’s it was a toneless, sagging double belly fit only for holding vast quantities of food and drink. Marveling at how huge it was, she picked up the double roll and gave it a shake, the entire paunch wobbling as she did so. Her hips were still narrow, but only in comparison to her gut, they were at least eight inches wider and soft enough for her entire hand to squeeze. Reaching behind her, Beth found that her tight butt was now wide, low and heavy, a heavy cushion of lard. Her thigh gap had totally vanished, slender, graceful legs now thick with accumulated adipose that they would touch for their entire length. Worst of all were her breasts, always small, the perky little A cups had barely grown at all, but the sight of the small amulet reading 220 lbs drove her into a rage.

‘You…you made me FAT!’ Beth screeched, tears welling in her eyes at her loss or…gain, ‘what…how…why!’

‘Because I didn’t get all of this the fun way,’ Rachel said imperiously, slapping her gut to demonstrate, ‘and only twenty or so pounds of that are from me. You got the other hundred pounds of it sucking down those addictive whatever they were without a spare thought. Where did you get them?’

‘I…I don’t remember,’ Beth said, bringing a soft fist to her now chubby face, ‘I don’t remember anything. Not eating those things, not fattening you up or anything in weeks. The last thing I remember…’

‘What was it?’ said Rachel, leaning forwards, her heavy gut collapsing into a pile of rolls.

‘We were in Thick Harbor,’ the mage said, her memory fuzzy, ‘there was a club in the high district, the Velvet Pussy. The line outside was huge but I flashed the bouncer some leg to get in, I was wearing that black dress that shows off everything. I doubt I could fit into it now…’

‘Enough on skinny day nostalgia,’ Rachel insisted, ‘get on with how you got hooked girl.’

‘Find, I’ll deal with the psychological repercussions of doubling in size later. I got drunk,’ Beth continued, ‘realllyyy drunk. I started making out with some guy…and some girls…and some other guys. There was a private room I stumbled into, there was some rich looking, weasel guy in the back. He was skinny, wearing furs and robes, he wasn’t participating but he was handing out those bags. There were about five girls there, all of them naked and all of them fucking, popping those pills into their mouths. I tasted one and felt hornier than I ever had before. The next thing I remember I was laying here, thinking I had a feed sack on my chest.’

‘It’s a start at least,’ Rachel said, pushing herself off the wall, ‘any other details?’

‘All the girls in the room…’ Beth said, ‘I think all of them were mages…’


Meanwhile, Princess Seserachad was waking up unusually early and feeling unusually warm.

Sitting up in her bed and kicking off her covers, the Princess felt a curious pinch in her waist. The girl had fallen asleep wearing only a tight pair of sky blue panties, ones that had fit comfortably the night before even with an extra ten pounds. But the weight she had gained the night before seemed to have crossed some critical threshold. Ses, as the Captain had taken to calling her, stood up and felt an unusual jiggle on her body as she did so. Eager to see what changes had been wrought upon her, the young woman eagerly trotted over to the mirror.

‘I … I look fucking delicious,’ Ses marveled, looking at her fuller body, twisting and posing her now curvaceous cinnamon frame, running her hands up and down her now soft curves.

Small pert B cups had blossomed into ripe Cs, enough for Ses to be called truly busty. They were a little lower perhaps but decadently full, large enough to be bouncy at the slightest moment but still firm to the touch. Turned on at the sight of herself, she cupped the growing breasts, giving them a firm bounce and pinching the sensitive nipples before moving her hands down.

The Princess had never had a firm stomach, just a flat one from a youthful metabolism and an imposed diet. Now it bulged out slightly, a soft doughnut of fat circling her belly button. It wasn’t large enough to be a gut, or even a paunch, it was actually flatter than it was after her late pig out sessions. But her stomach was definitely a pooch now, an excess inch or so of fat to pinch and fondle, just enough to puff out over her strained panties. Many women would consider it a problem area, but to Ses it looked delightful.

Her hips were also wider, less those of an inexperienced girl and more fitting on a seductive woman. Rounder and softer with an extra couple inches, they seemed to almost automatically sway and sashay as she turned in front of the mirror. Her lower half had definitely taken the brunt of her weight, but even if she hadn’t been becoming more and more turned on by feminine plumpness Ses would have appreciated them.

Spinning around, an action that caused her larger breasts to bounce and sway, Seserachad saw that for the first time in her life she had an ass. Before it had been flat and small, but now she had two fairly large buns hanging out of her overloaded blue panties. She stripped out of them, pushing them over rounded hips and thicker thighs to get a look at her nude rear, noting the red marks they had left in her soft sides and now large bum. They were jiggly and soft, an ass any man would want on his mistress or wife.

Last of all the Princess looked at her long legs, always her favorite feature she was eager to see how they changed. Despite never exercising a day in her life, Ses had always had pretty legs, long and shapely. Now with a few extra layers of fat they looked even better, rounder and lazier perhaps and a tad closer at the top, but even shapelier. A pair of pants made for her skinnier form before would still fit, although they would be skin tight.

‘What am I at…,’ the Princess murmured to herself, picking up the necklace from between her naked breasts, ‘145 lbs. They look great on me…I’m going to need more…’
Later that morning, in a much less comfortable cell, former Captain Ravanche furiously plotted her coming revenge. She had accumulated forty percent again of her old weight in the last twenty four hours, going from rail thin to slightly plump in a day due to the necklaces Rachel had forced upon her. Forty extra pounds hadn’t changed her feverish thoughts of revenge, even if it had given the energetic pirate the physique of a lazy courtesan. They were even proving helpful in their own way, especially given that she was naked bar her manacles.

‘Please, oh please let me out,’ Ravanche cried in a voice much higher than her normal one, pushing her soft body up against the iron bars of her cell, ‘I can’t stand what she’s doing to my figure!’

‘Belay that racket!’ snarled her guard, a leggy blonde with a whip cord lean runners build, clad in a corsair’s typical tight breeches, high boots and near unbuttoned blouse. She stalked over from her post, thrusting at Ravanche’s soft tummy with her truncheon.

But Ravanche knew what she was up to and pulled back, her reflexes slower but still quick even with her soft burden. She’d seen the lust these girls had stared at their obese leader with, and throughout the night her captors had trickled into the cell room to giggle and marvel at the skinny pirate’s measurable expansion. This jailor in particular had stayed most of the night, her nipples hardening like diamonds under her thin shirt as Ravanche had crossed over from athletic to doughy. When she had taken up the morning shift, Ravanche’s wicked heart had jumped with joy. The deposed pirate Queen faked sobbed, bringing one of her clenched fists up to her eye to dab away fake tears. Her free hand grasped and pinched her growing curves, cupping her larger breasts and pinching her newly acquired paunch.

‘But I’m getting so fat!’ she wailed, her voice wavering, ‘I worked so hard, denied myself everything. Now look at me! My pert little tits are getting so soft and creamy, they bounce whenever I do anything! My stomach’s growing into this chubby gut, see I can poke down to the middle knuckle its so soft! Look at my ass, I loved how round and hard it was like it was carved of marble! Now… now its just a big flabby mess! I must have broken forty inches across the hips last night!’

Her guard swallowed hard, licking her lips at the delectable sight. Training warred with lust and lost, the sword sister taking a hesitant step forwards. Trying to ignore the tingling across her clit, the woman raised a half hearted objected.

‘Shut your racket bitch!’ the guard said, ‘Or I’ll…’

‘And oh goddesses I’m so hungry…’Ravanche continued, walking again to the bars, ‘I know I’m already getting fatter by the minute, but all I want to do is eat and eat. Please stuff me, stuff me until I’m so full I can’t even move!’

The guard dropped her club, loins clearly winning out over brain. Snatching up her own unfinished breakfast, the woman sprang to Ravanche’s cell door, thoughts of getting to stuff a plump little pirate silly ringing in her mind. But the moment the door began sliding inwards, Ravanche jumped forwards, one hundred and forty three pounds of soft pirate queen slamming the iron bars up against her captor. The guard was bounced back across the room and slumped to the floor, clearly unconscious from the impact.

‘Stupid chubby chasing whore,’ the freed pirate muttered, bending down to grab the blonde’s clothes, belly making rolls as she did, ‘thinking with her vagina instead of her brain.’

To her annoyance, the skinny blonde’s pant’s were both far too long and far too tight, getting firmly stuck on Ravanche’s thickening thighs. The shirt at least fit, as long as the escapee didn’t try and button the top or bottom two snaps. Lastly the blonde’s sword belt still had three holes to go when Ravanche got it closed around her doughy waist, the leather band dividing her paunch in two.

Hearing foot steps up the outer corridor she paused, crouching in the shadow as someone rolled something past. Moving as silent as she could with so much lard on her body, Ravanche crept over to the door and cracked it open to observe. It was a red head, hair long and curly much like herself but with a sweet and innocent demeanor instead of Ravanche’s psychotic bitterness. The girl was pushing a polished trolley, upon which was set several silver breakfast trays and glasses of orange juice. More importantly, like Ravanche this girl had obviously put on quite a deal of weight, most of it indeed settling in her booty and paunch.

Ravanche had to repress some disgust as she saw the other red head’s swinging hips strain against a far too tight skirt, the edges of her butt cheeks visible as the growing spheres laughed at attempts to constrain them. A spongy muffin top of pale flesh peeked out through the gap between blouse and skirt, the lovehandles and back fat shaking at each step. Only knowledge that her own body had grown as fat kept Ravanche from a silent giggle, instead she silently moved from the door, thanking the dark gods of the underworld for this opportunity.

The fat bottomed lass pushing the cart was of course Cassandra, the now very well upholstered redhead bursting out of her clothes and starting to sweat with effort and nerves. Her vial of weight gain powder, the precious substance that would keep Captain Rachel a beautiful tub of lard forever, was between her breasts. All she had to do was pour it into the Captain’s orange juice and her leader would abandon thoughts of slimness and become the obese goddess she was born to be.

Thoughts like these were rudely interrupted by a fist to the back of the head.

Ravanche dragged the pudgy girl back into the cell, stripping her and finding her clothes, designed for a girl who was short and bottom heavy even when slender, a much better fit. She left the nude, unconscious girls on the floor instead of killing them, eagerness for revenge overwhelming practicality. Upon discovering the powder between Cassandra’s soft chest, she assumed it was some form of poison and poured it not into the orange juice but instead a bit of it onto all of the food platters. Brushing her hair over her left eye to hide its patch, Ravanche began pushing the cart up towards her hopefully bloody revenge.
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Old 12-22-2014, 03:31 AM   #7
Join Date: Sep 2007
Posts: 3
thelegendaryjackrandom has said some nice things

Excellent! Glad you've started a new one, Emperor Basil was great too.
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