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Old 06-01-2014, 12:41 AM   #26
Britt Reid
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Britt Reid can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokesBritt Reid can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes

OK - chapters 14-17 have been newly added to the thread via insertion after chapter 13 on the previous page.

More will be coming. Whether they are located with the chapters just alluded to or after this post is at this point not determined.

Last edited by Britt Reid; 06-01-2014 at 12:44 AM.
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Old 06-01-2014, 01:32 PM   #27
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Sulla has said some nice things

Chapter 18

Section 1 – synopsis: Emperor Basil lured in a fight to the death against brain washed, bisexual, buxom beauties!

Our journey was a long one, taking over two weeks even on the excellent Imperial roads. Basil kept the company of dragons he had chosen for our mission moving fast and I was exhausted from the riding at the end of each day. Our party was over a hundred strong, counting the horse troopers,

Basil and his party and a small squad of Athenian paladins going to relieve some of the girls guarding the elf city. We were fortunate that we were still in settled territory, for there were garrison posts for the troops to bivouac in, temples for the Paladins and inns for Yvarra, Carmilla and myself.

Although I had prided myself at losing so much weight, the hard travel made me realize just how out of shape I remained. Riding all day left me sweaty, sore and exhausted, making me glad for the baths in each inn. My leg muscles were so sore the first few days I could barely exercise. But if I was tired, Yvarra was an utter wreck.

The Priestess weight required a huge cart horse as her mount, but even its broad back seemed too narrow for her. Her horse’s step set her whole flabby body jiggling and left her broad ass red and sore. Each night she practically collapsed into her bed, emerging only to order vast amounts of greasy, deep fried bar food.

Any chance that travel might firm Yvarra up seemed pathetically slim. Piles of Fried potatoes vanished down her maw every night, followed by fried fish and platters of buffalo wings. She’d also down stein after stein of beer, before waddling off to bed tipsy, her mouth stained orange and her belt undone. She had brought along sets of loose traveling clothes, tough pants and shirts cut to show off her cleavage but thick enough to protect her legs, but soon I noticed they were growing tight in the waist.

However I didn’t have much room to talk. We were moving through small cities and large towns, big enough for Imperial fashions to have penetrated but still small enough that few girls had gained much. So in towns where the biggest paunch around was a starter belly, I was suddenly the queen bee.

Yvarra might have been heavier than me, but she was generally passed out in her room pretty early, leaving the playing field open for me. In the common rooms of inns I found myself wined and dined each evening, the best of the local boys and girls going after me hard. I got praised for the breadth of my hips, the wobble of my chins, the soft jut of my gut, the depth of my tummy rolls. At first I was a tad bashful having not had sex for months, but before long I got to enjoying it.

Ever since my binge in the Curvacian temple I had started feeling hungry again, my stomach reawakening to the joys of fatty food. Out in the sticks I abandoned my diet completely, letting the local nobles stuff me full each night. Before long I started taking the better looking ones to bed as well, although i found that my range of positions had shortened quite a bit.

Back in the Harem overeating had been a chore, something I had forced myself to do. Now for some reason the vast pressure in my gut felt pleasant and the simple tavern fare tasted delicious. My cover identity was as a rich merchant traveling with an army unit to visit one of the dwarves cities. Merchants have a reputation for gluttony and lust and I went all out, eating and screwing with gusto.

Carmilla posed as my assistant and acted as my wingman at night. In the more liberal towns we started having orgies together and I learned her tan curves were soft to the touch. The Mage never exercised, keeping her perfect curves by a careful diet. Only the slightest tip and she could either shrink or expand. I was damn tempted to start fattening her up, but she preempted me by keeping my face stuffed.

I still kept up my exercise, but for the first time in months my weight stopped falling. I told myself I wouldn’t get fatter again, just that I would maintain my current hefty but somewhat fit physique. A nagging voice in my head warned about weight gain, cholesterol and blood pressure, but I ignored it, literally swallowing it.

It helped that at 180 I was light enough to lack issues with balance, movement or knee pain, while my excellent bras spared me any discomfort up top. In any case two weeks of moderate indulgence wouldn’t get me noticeably bigger, or so I hoped.

Soon we left the towns behind moving through wilderness. We lacked comforts here and my spoiled tummy groaned from the sudden lack of pampering. Yvarra had gotten a bag of candy from somewhere that seemed bottomless, but she refused to share it with me. Thankfully it was not long before we reached our destination.

The Athenans and Curvacians had set up a fortified camp at the cliff face illusion, complete with palisade, moat and towers. Most of the work had been done by summoned golems, leaving the paladins and priestess to patrol, train and screw.

You would be forgiven for thinking that months with the Curvacians would have left the trim Athenians tubby, but you’d be wrong. Although combat armor wasn’t as skimpy as the ceremonial stuff, it was for fitting enough for me to tell that the Athenians remained rail thin. However, the Curvacians were practically bursting from their armor.

“We’ve been patrolling aggressively ever since we set up camp,” Priestess Elia reported to us in the command post, ‘the magic in the area has increased daily, but there has been no sign of our sisters who first entered the illusion.”

Elia was an Athenian, stately and trim she wore a long chain mail dress that still managed to show off her waspy waist. Her helm framed delicate cheekbones and a heavy mace rested at her side.

“Nor have we seen any tracks leading in or out, “ said Paladin Galea, “even the birds avoid this place. Everyday we must hunt farther afield. I”m lucky I”m so fit that I can travel, as most of my sisters have really let themselves go.”

Galea said all of this without irony.She was one of those Curvacian Paladins who redoubled their weight lifting as they gorged, arms and legs strengthening as the stomach grew wide, but at some point her belly started over taking everything else. Galea still fought as an archer, but had hopefully eschewed hit and run tactics. Her green leather armor showed off her legs, thick and round above her leather boots, and bulged against her gluttonous belly. Her movements were certainly ponderous and that armor was very tight, speaking of recent expansion.

“Has anyone else gone into the illusion?” Basil asked

“No,” the Curvacian said, “we might have already lost fifty of our sisters, I have permitted no more.”

“What about the magical fields?” Carmilla asked, “our research indicates that the Elven City ate naturally occurring magic to fuel itself. “

“It is odd,’said the Athenan, “although now that you mention it some of our construction golems had weakened early.”

“It must be on again,” the mage mused, ‘drawing in magic from everywhere around. That’s why the animals avoid it.”

“What could it do with the levels you”re talking about?” Basil asked.

‘Something big,” he replied ominously.

We ate a simple dinner that night, a far cry from the fatty far I had grown accustomed too. Basil allowed the troopers to mingle with the temple troops, while we sat at the simple halls high table. From our lofty vantage point the source of the Voluptians recent softening became rapidly apparent.

The trim Athenians were eating vicariously through their rivals, plying them with platter after platter and stein after stein. Some women would playfully refuse, leading the skinny Athenians to start hand feeding the plumper Priestesses, stuffing slices of meat and hunks of bread down their mouths. No visible resistance was offered, the already overweight women simply undoing their belts and reclining.

“Is it wise to allow your warriors to eat so much before a battle?” Captain Morganna, the leader of our Dragoon company asked.

She was a fit and stately young woman, symbolic of the middle classes who were rapidly dominating the Imperial military. Her chestnut hair was held back in a severe bun and her green eyes were accentuated by faint dueling scars on her cheeks. Currently she was wearing an officer’s blue jacket and tight white pants, showing off her long legs and pert bubble butt. Like me she was eating lightly, in her case keeping a flat belly while I strove to undo some of the damage several weeks of overeating had done on my diet.

“Oh our girls are used to it,” Priestess Elia said, ‘those big Voluptians need a lot of feeding to fuel those strong bodies of theirs, isn’t that right Galea?”

The red headed Paladin could only groan in response, already lapsing into a food coma. Elia had stuffed three plates of roast boar down Galea’s mouth, swelling the Voluptian to near bursting. With a faint sigh, Galea undid her sword belt, almost collapsing into unconsciousness.

“Oh is that tummy sore?” Asked Elia, standing to rub Galea’s vast paunch, her firm fingers sinking deep into the other woman’s soft flesh. Elia was wearing a low cut silver dress and like all Athenians she had a very full chest on display. Her breasts bounced and wobbled as she rubbed the Voluptians bloated body, threatening to burst her top.

‘Should we, um give them a room?” Asked Carmilla, getting a bit uneasy.

Most of the Curvacians had passed out at this point, leaving only Yvarra awake. My fatter friend had two skinny Athenans about her, each rubbing her wobbling gut while tossing sweet meats into her eager mouth. With a bit of alarm I noticed that all of the Athenans and our male troopers had surrounded the fifty or so female soldiers. Whatever resistance the girls had seemed to be rapidly eroding, as food started flowing into their mouths.

“Yes, I’d rather be leaving now,” I agreed, feeling that something was off.

“No, you three should stay a while,” said Elia, walking towards us seductively, “you”re so thin from the road.stay here and rest, grow strong again. And eat.”

Several Paladins in very skimpy dresses seemingly appeared, each bearing plates of pork, bowls of mashed potatoes and dishes office cream. I meant to say something but the smell was heavenly, causing my mouth to water and forget whatever I was about to say. Carmilla and Captain Morganna stopped speaking as well, salivating at the food.

Before I knew it a Paladin was on each side of me, their firm racks pressing into my face. They started spooning up ice cream before me, my favorite mint flavor drowning in fudge.

‘Ladies, we need to go,” Basil said forcefully, ‘this feast isn’t right.”

“But I haven’t had ice cream in days,” I said petulantly, as though through a dream.

“And triple fried lamb is my favorite,” said Morganna through a full mouth, “I haven’t had any since the last war.”

“And the mages guild hardly ever serves fondue,” whined Carmillah, gobbling down marshmallows.

“How did they know I liked beer,” Yvarra added drunkenly.

“Girls, they.re trying to bewitch you, turn you all into fat slaves!” Shouted the Emperor, drawing his blade in a flourish.

“Please assassins can’t get fat,” I said without a trace of irony,” my abs could take a hundred feasts like this and not get fat.”

“I’ll work it off later,” said Morganna, already taking off her kid gloves to really get to feasting.

“My metabolism can handle anything,” boasted the curvy Carmilla, with chocolate on her chin.

“Please, everyone knows I”m the thinnest woman in the city,” Yvarra slurred, “I’d have to eat for years to get fat.”

‘Damnit” muttered Basil, realizing that a ring of Athenans had surrounded them. Each woman drew a weapon, before suddenly unlacing their clothes and presenting a ring of athletic nudity.

‘Take us Basil,’ they murmured as one, “fill us with your seed. Transform us, let us grow fat at your table. We will worship you as a God! You will let all know that the time of sin is at hand, that man should grow fat before they are slaughtered!”

“I’m guessing I don’t have choice in this,” murmured Basil, lowering his blade.

The Athenans closed, a circle of steely, sexual menace. Their weapons gleamed and their vaginas dripped wetness.

‘Sorry girls,” said Basil, just as Elia reached him.

His fist lashed out, flooring the Priestess with an upper cut. Three more went down and suddenly he was on the main table, blade in both hands and shouting curses.

“Come on bitches and die, I was a man before I was a king!”

Section 2 - Narrator Changes

Synopsis: Basil inserts his view of the story as current events

While my spy master was busy stuffing herself, it fell upon me to deal with the situation and narrate. It is after all, my story.

At the moment I had the initiative, running across tables before the Athenians could get together and mob me. The fact that most of them were in cocktail dresses helped, for I was wearing as custom wearing armor. However, events were in danger of slipping away from me.

I was heavily outnumbered, the odds slipping past 100:1 against as my male troopers peeled themselves away from filling their female comrades. Worse, the Athenans were in quite good shape and all were capable fighters. At the moment I was keeping them at bay, but Paladins outside the feast hall were coming in, bearing long pikes and wearing armor.

I would receive no help at all from my companions, who were busy making pigs of themselves. Ashlay in particular had really let loose, both her fat girl and bisexual tendencies combining to have her eat ice cream from in between an Athenians breasts. The others weren’t far behind, if I didn’t act now soon they’d be too full to even hope to escape.

Throwing up one sword, I cut the cable on the chandelier, making it fall with a fiery crash. Jumping through the flames, I punched out the maiden Ashlay was busy munching off of and then kicked the Athenian who was eating out the former Assassin. Pommel strikes and uppercuts soon downed the rest of the feeders, but my companions were still entranced. I would perhaps be able to carry out the Captain and Carmilla, but Ashlay would require her own trip and even I would be pressed to haul out Yvarras flabby bulk.

Had I any magic, breaking their trances would be trivial, but alas I utterly lack that talent. Several nude Athenans charged me before I could think further and I was put on the back foot for a moment. I left most of the women alive, they couldn’t help that they were obviously bewitched, but soon faced another rush by Priestess Elia, her right eye already swelling shut.

“Take him alive, his seed must pass on!” She yelled at me, a gratifying statement that was still terrifying, as over a hundred women surrounded me on all sides.

I prepared to hold my ground as long as could, but I already knew I was making a last stand. Granted, it would probably be the first time an Emperor had been screwed to death by a company of Paladins, but that wasn’t what I wanted to be in the history books for. Luckily, salvation was at hand.

Katrina charged into the rear of the mob, a red haired warrior goddess with slightly ill-fitted armor. The child I had put in her didn’t seem to slow her down, for she was still ahead of the squad of replacement Athenans we had led from the Capitol. Katrina and her sane sisters were not only free of bewitchment, they had entered in wearing full plate harness and were in little danger from the light weapons held by their half nude sisters. Soon they had fought their way to my side, keeping their brainwashed sisters at bay with pikes.

“Aren’t you supposed to be back home resting?” I asked Katrina amidst the blade work.

“What, and leave all the fun to you?” She retorted, giving Elia another black eye, “besides, I think I”m still the fittest woman here!”

“Can you break the spells here?” I asked her, glad I had someone who knew a little magic.

“Whatever has my Sisters has set its claws too deep for me, but the gluttony charm on the feedees should be simple!”

Soon a faint blue glow filled the room as Katrina called on her Goddess, a literally divine sense of moderation snapping each woman awake. Their mouths were stained, their stomachs open and their pants would be unfastenable for a while, but they could all stand up.

“Urgg,” Ashlay moaned, cream coated hands massaging her paunch, “I don’t think I”m ever eating again.”

“If you all aren’t able to run than in a few minutes they’ll have the charm back on you!” I shouted, sore pressed as the Athenans surged back at us.

I kicked my way through the back wall, making a hole big enough even for Yvarra. Katrina, her Paladins and I fought a desperate rearguard action while Carmilla started preparing a spell behind us.

“Its gonna take weeks to work this off,” Carmilla muttered, no doubt referring to the epic food baby that had burst her dress, “all right, on the ground if you want to stay clean! Summon Ice Cream!”

As I hit the ground I saw a rainbow vortex of sticky cream soar above me. Hundreds of gallons of high pressure ice cream shot into the feasting hall, smacking down threatening Athenan and redolent Curvacian alike. Plates flew, tables flipped and the gooey stuff started piling up before Carmillah cut the stream.

“I’ve been perfecting that for the Curvacians 3rd annual eating contest,” the Mage explained, “it still has a few kinks to work out.”

‘Lets move, we don’t have much time before they get up and I”m not up to killing our allies,” I ordered.

Out in the complex we started jogging, which was problematic. Yvarra hadn’t moved above walking pace in a while and even slim Captain Morganna had a lot of food slowing her down. Fortunately I saw one of our supply wagons near by, mostly empty but with a fresh team of mules hitched up.

“Into the wagon!” I yelled, as a stream of dairy splattered Paladins started pouring out of the feast hall.

We were a heavy load: thirteen slim women, eleven in heavy armor, two rather hefty ones and an Emperor. Luckily the mules were strong and the destination close by. I whipped the reigns, pulling away from the mob of near nude, ice cream covered Athenans.

“Where are we going?” panted Yvarra, she and Carmilla trying to block the spells hurtling at us.

‘Through the portal!” I yelled, driving the mules straight at the cliff face. For a moment the unyielding rock shimmered around us, but soon it vanished, leaving us alone in a vast, strangely lit cavern. There was only us, and the ancient Elven city.

Last edited by Britt Reid; 06-01-2014 at 05:37 PM.
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Old 06-01-2014, 01:32 PM   #28
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Sulla has said some nice things

Chapter 19: Ashlay returns as narrator, Journey in the ruins

Let a man be Emperor of half the world and suddenly he thinks he can write your story just because his names on the title and you”re in a food coma. Anyway, now that the tale is back in my capable hands, let us continue.

“Hold on, I’ve gotta throw up,” Captain Morganna said turning off our path to vomit onto the road.

Upon standing the leggy brunette looked a tad green, but was standing straighter than she had before. Most of her immense food baby was gone, allowing her to finally button her pants again.

We had been on foot for a while, having had to abandon the cart as the elvish streets narrowed. The entrance was well behind us now, across a smooth expanse of cave, flat as the Imperial highway. All of this was in a huge cavern lit with a lustrous green glow and dominated by hundreds of beautiful buildings: soaring towers, arcing bridges and vast domed temples. All of them arced and twisted, looking more like trees than stone. One huge tower erupted from the center of the metropolis, emanating magic almost visibly.

Movement had been slow. Basil, Katrina and the Paladins hadn’t even sweated, but given their superb fitness that didn’t matter much. My own plump form was sweaty, and a tad queasy from all the dairy, but I was both fit enough and used to overeating to keep up. Both Morganna and Carmilla had been lagging, their small bellies unable to easily handle the caloric influx they had been fed. The Captain still seemed rather green and our Mage had both hands on her swollen belly.

“Rest here for a few minutes,” Basil ordered, ‘take stock of our equipment.”

Yvarra trundled up, two Bored Paladins following as a rear guard. Her Priestess robes were ruined, stained badly by sweat and torn to shreds, revealing even more of her soft flesh. She was panting and gasping, leaning heavily on a staff that had been in the wagon.

“I remember dungeon crawls being easier,” the woman panted.

‘They weren’t,” said Katrina, “you were just in shape. If you’d followed that exercise plan I gave you this wouldn’t be a problem.”

“What are you even doing here? I thought you were on light duty?” I replied.

“Light duty is for the weak,” claimed the redhead, ‘so I tagged along with the replacements. Besides, my daughter should get an early glimpse of battle.”

“From the womb?” I asked.

“Fine, the city was boring. Nothing but fat noble women eating all day,” she acknowledged.

While this was going on we took stock. Katrina and her Paladins had come fully armed and armored, but the rest of us had to make due. Basil had grabbed a shield from the wagon, but still lacked a helmet.

I was wearing a pair of gauntlets for punching and was glad I had decided to wear my black assassin uniform to dinner, even if it was stained now. Morganna had her saber and a shirt of mail that she could now fit into.

Both Yvarra and Carmilla lacked weapons or armor though, even worse they lacked the collections of scrolls and potions we had brought from the capitol.

“Carmilla, can you do anything for Yvarra?” I asked our Mage, who was rubbing the taut gut that threatened to burst her dress.

“I’ll be fine,” Yvarra declared, “just give me a minute.”

‘Dear Lady, you can barely keep up,” said Basil, “already you lag, but soon the going gets rougher. Rubble fields, collapsed buildings, stairs.”

Yvarra blanched at that, stairs having become her special enemy.

‘Do you have anything?” She asked, already feeling the infernal burning a staircase would inflict on her soft thighs.

“Well...” Carmilla began, “I have one spell that might help... But it’s strictly temporary.”

“As long as it’s quick,” Katrina said, “we need this piggy on her feet.”

Carmilla stuck out her hands, fingers twisting into arcane shapes. Strange words babbled from her mouth, while her eyes glowed blue. Silvery tattoos appeared on her skin, before bolts of energy struck Yvarra on the floor.

Meanwhile, The Priestess shrank. Her vast breasts narrowed and pulled up higher, deflating quickly. That vast belly apron drew upwards, tightening into a round gut that slowly flattened. Thunder thighs narrowed, a gap appearing for the first time in years. Wobbly bingo wings merged back into her arms, while Yvarras many chins vanished.

After a few moments Carmilla ceased, panting and sweaty. Yvarra slowly rose, unsteady on her feet now that a hundred and fifty pounds had vanished off her frame, while her once taut dress hung off her like a tent.

Her hands ran over herself, feeling her new waist and pinching her suddenly small butt. She wasn’t back down to her prime, her body was toneless, her hips were child bearing and a small starter belly marred her waist, but Yvarra was back in the thin range.

‘Do you have another one of those?” I asked expectantly.

“Its a once a day thing,” said Carmilla, ‘Sadly, otherwise I’d have been rich.”

“What.. What did you do to me?” She asked, craning her neck to look down at her feet for the first time since I had known her.

“I made this for when I couldn’t fit into my dress,” admitted Carmilla, “I haven’t used it in a while, but it works for four hours.”

“I feel... Weird...fitter... But weird.”

“You can get used to it later,” Basil said, “now we have to move.”

Again we set out, traveling much faster now. Yvarra was a bit unsteady at first, but soon rediscovered her old stride. Quickly she passed me, soon drawing near Katrina.

‘That armor seems snugger than I remember,” Yvarra teased, green eyes a light with joy, “pregnancy cravings starting to get to you?”

“Nothing more than my daughter’s growth exactly in line with healthy projections,” Katrina said hastily, ill at ease now that Yvarra was slimmer than her.

“Well you do look rather healthy, especially from behind,” Yvarra quipped, slipping back towards me.

‘Thats a little cruel,” I said, noting that Katrina was craning her head around, seeing how broad her hips were. She was still narrow, but seemed antsy to determine that.

“Please, I’ve had nothing but fat jokes for months. Now that she’s the big one I can finally have the whip hand. Whenever she thinks I”m not looking she glances at my flat stomach and touches hers, probably not even consciously.”

‘That’s ludicrous,” I said, “you know you’ll be huge again in a moment and you two probably weigh the same right now?”

“Of course I know,” she said, “and if I wasn’t in this cave I’d be looking forwards to it. I appreciate the mobility but I miss my jiggles and my rack, I don’t know how I got by with such tiny tits before.”

Moving through empty streets and vacant buildings, we caught our first sign of movement. More than a score of skeletons marched through a vacant avenue. Each of the long dead elves was bare of flesh, bony hands clutching remnants of rusty weapons. Each skeleton began rummaging in the ruins of a large building, digging for something. For a moment we waited, until another figure shuffled into view.

At one point she had been an Athenan Priestess, but no more. Her hair was still a gorgeous mass of coal black curls, but her priestess robes hung in tatters about her porky frame. The perk had gone out of her barred breasts, letting them bounce slackly against her huge paunch, consisting of two separate rolls folded onto each other. She waddled slowly, bouncing rhythmically, and began panting orders at the undead as she leaned against a building.

“Ashlay silence her” Basil ordered.

Gratified he still considered me capable, I slunk along the edge of a tower. Quickly I flanked the flabby Athenan, choking her out in a heartbeat and letting her obesity hit the floor. The skeletons slowly turned, but before they could move Katrina, Basil and the Paladins pounced, easily destroying them in a short melee.

‘This was Melvina of Herzif,” Katrina said s she stood over the woman I had felled, “What happened to her?”

“I’d like to know as well,” said Basil.

“I can help with that,” said Yvarra, strutting forwards. Her hands waggled and some mystic nonsense bubbled out.

Immediately this Melvinas piggish eyes snapped open, blinking furiously. For a moment she looked angry, before more jibberish from Yvarra lifted the hex on her. The Athenan sagged with relief, vast form slinking to the ground. She started crying softly as she took in the enormity of what had happened to her.

“Priestess Melvina, what happened here?” asked Katrina, taking the woman’s fat hand in her thin one.

“I’m so sorry Lady Paladin,” the fat woman moaned, “I tried to hold back. We all resisted for so long, but it made us feed the Curvacians and then... I got so fat!”

‘This? This is just a little vanity weight,” said Katrina, waving away the three hundred pounds or so pinning her coreligionist to the floor, “a week of PT and you’ll be good as new. Now, what happened?”

“We chased the beastmen into the cliff as ordered,” began Melvina, ‘they moved fast but we caught up to them in the central palace. The battle was short, but we woke up something. Like a woman, but thin, old and dried.”

“A lich,” Yvarra whispered to me, “an undead witch.”

‘She enthralled us, summoned food out of thin air and bid us feast. We resisted, but the Curvacians dived in. Seeing them stuff themselves, like pigs at the trough, it made me so mad, but it turned me on. They started swelling up, and as they got fatter the woman got younger and younger.”

‘Some sort of curse tied to gluttony,” mused Carmilla, ‘she was probably very greedy in life.”

‘Soon the Curvacians couldn’t eat anymore. They were just blobs at that point, huge wobbling balls of fat. The witch had returned to life, turning into a middle aged woman. She bade us eat, telling us to let loose. These dryads came out of nowhere, so svelte and gorgeous. I had never liked girls before, but their tits! I couldn’t resist, I just ate and ate. In no time I had to undo my armor, then my stomach hit my thighs. That bitch made me lose my six pack! I worked so hard on it!”

“We’ll get it back for you I promise,” said Basil, giving her soft shoulder a pat, “why are you out here?”

‘She said we’d gotten fat enough,” cried Melvina, ‘she’s gorgeous now, an elf maiden who could charm the moon from the heavens. I was the only one who could still walk, she bade me to fetch her necklace, saying she wanted her finery complete before recreating the city.”

“Is this it?” I asked, picking up a black diamond the size of my fist. It was on a delicate wire made of precious mithril.

‘That thing is a damned powerful magical repository,” said Carmilla, “you could kill an army with what’s in there.”

“Yes, she said she needed it to return the city to life,” said Melvina, “Help me up, let me shove that thing down her throat!”

‘Stay here and rest,” said Katrina, not wanting to point out that her subordinate could barely move.

“Well ladies, it looks like we have a job to do,” said Basil, ‘lets kill a Lich.”

Last edited by Britt Reid; 06-01-2014 at 05:39 PM.
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Old 06-01-2014, 01:32 PM   #29
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Sulla has said some nice things

Chapter 20: An elven battle

20-A. In the Liches Lair

Dozens of skeletons guarded the massive bronze gates of the temple, just a small part of the undead mob the rescued Paladin had told us of. Each door was covered in pictures of nubile elf maids bowing before an impossibly voluptuous woman lounging gracefully on a throne, these scenes repeating across the marble face of the massive tower.

I would have liked to do more recon before attacking but there was only one entrance and my free running skills were still sadly lacking.

Instead we hit the gate head on, a shield wall of Paladins knocking down the lighter skeletons. Basil lead the wedge and chopped them down, crushing the undead to dust. Soon we had cleared the gate, trotting through a long passage with even more erotic art on the walls. I took the lead, checking for traps, but was able to notice that the lithe elf maids on the wall were now surrounded with a vast banquet as we ran past.

The tunnel didn’t branch but slowly spiraled up. As we ascended it was hard not to notice that the marble elf girls had quickly went to seed. Waspish waists grew starter bellies, which quickly expanded into paunchy guts as chins multiplied. Large sylvan eyes grew piggish when high Elven cheeks were covered in jowls and lean graceful legs thickened and rubbed together. Breasts expanded, burst their bras and sagged, while girlish hips grew wide.

By several floors off the ground, all the marble figures but the central one had grown obese. Soon the elf maids were just blobs on the floor, steadily declining in number until only the lithe woman remained emblazoned on a bronze door.

After I checked the passage for traps, Basil kicked in the door. We were ready for anything: blades drawn, shields up, spells prepared. Or so we thought.

Living in the Capitol we had gotten use to seeing fat women, but the state of the Athenans floored us. Each of the Priestesses and Paladins was a veritable mountain of doughy flesh, dwarfing the obese Melvina the way that fat Paladin dwarfed fit Katrina. Their burst armor lay on the ground around them or was trapped in their seas of fat rolls.

Despite the commotion we caused, none of them looked at us, they were engorged with being fed. None of the Athenans was capable of feeding themselves still, but that didn’t matter as each swarmed with half a dozen attendants. These were dryads, busty and curvy tree women with green hair and skin.

Nude save for thongs of woven leaves they stuffed the immobile Paladins with endless servings of fatty meats and fried food, more than occasionally stopping to erotically eat mozzarella sticks or strips of bacon. This was not without damage, as most of the usually lithe dryads had starter bellies and the start of double chins.

“Ah my consort has arrived,” a melodious voice said.

Sitting on a golden throne in the rooms center was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her ivory skin glowed like the moon, while long auburn locks fluttered behind her. Goddesses would have killed for her heart shaped face, with its delicate cheek bones, full lips and bright green eyes. Her near nude body was impossibly lithe, tiny silver chains wound about her firm limbs, holding black diamonds over her private parts. Perfect breasts were on full display, large, bouncy and with the perk of an 18 year old.

“And with my favorite necklace even,” she said with a heart breaking smile, revealing perfect teeth.

‘Silence lich,” shouted Katrina, “you’ll pay for what was done to my sisters.”

“Oh, but I didn’t do a thing. The poor dears just worked up an appetite feeding the first set of girls. They’d been holding their urges in for years and were quite overwhelmed. They can leave whenever they want.”

This might have been true, but I doubt the Paladins could be moved without a crane.

‘Stop with the lies,” said Basil, “we know this madness is your doing Lich. Cease it and we will give you a quick death.”

“As if you could little mortal,” the elf witch said idly, reclining easily backwards, idly examining her perfect nails, “no mortal weapon can harm me now! Not even the hottest dragons fire could mar me now! The gluttony of these women has given me a power greater even that I stole from the whole Elven empire!”

“We’ll find a way to destroy you monster,” declared the Emperor, “or die trying!”

‘There’s no need for that,” the Lich said, “I will need a consort to aide me in rule and satisfy me whenever the urge hits. You’ll do very nicely. I can feel might dripping off you, You”re destined for mighty things indeed. And I’ll also need several concubines to fatten up and keep my girlish figure.”

“You”re drawing power from weight gain!” Yvarra said with alarm, I noticed that her waist was gradually expanding back to its old size, puffing from starter belly to thick paunch without the Priestess noticing.

“But of course my little chubbette,” the Liche giggled, “what better way to regain my own figure than to ruin that of others. You humans put on weight so much easier than elf maids as well. These few score Paladins ballooning gave me enough magical energy to go from withered corpse to the most beautiful woman alive. Ten thousand years ago I destroyed half the Elven empire just to deal with rumors of my double chin.”

“You”re vanity knows no bounds witch!” Basil yelled, “Attack!”

Our foe did not deign to raise her shapely rear from her seat. With a wave of her hand she blocked a bolt of lightning from Yvarra and a storm of ice shards from Carmilla. She snapped her ringed fingers and half the Paladins froze up stiff as boards, falling to the ground with a clang of armor. One beautiful blue eye winked and Yvarra dropped her staff and fell to her knees at a low table.

The Priestess greedily started in at the feast before her, shoveling ice cream and guzzling beer. Weight began accruing on her figure with unnatural speed, the power of Carmilla’s spell crumbling before the might of this ancient elf queen.

The dryads dropped down from the prone Athenans, attacking those of us still standing with their wooden claws. We took cover behind the boulder like form of one obese Paladin, the Dryads unable to clamber over her awkward bulk.

“Any plans?” I asked as we took stock.

“I’ve never seen someone so vain,” Katrina said as she decapitated a dryad, “and I remember when Yvarra was in the Miss Empire pageant.”

“Every act of eating powers her,” Carmilla explained, ‘she’s getting stronger just from Yvarra porking out!”

I risked a look around our flabby cover, my quick glimpse confirming the Mage’s words. Our foe’s hair was even more lustrous and wavy, having started to actually sparkle. Her blue eyes glowed like sapphires and her red lips sparkled like rubies, while her already large breasts had somehow increased in both perk and size. Despite this the lean muscles on her body showed even more clearly, her abs and obliques perfectly defined.

“I’ve got an idea,” I said, “but its going to require Carmilla and I to get close. Carmilla, do you still have that ice cream spell?”

20 B A break from the current storyline

Meanwhile, far away...

Lydia lay her head on her pillow and resignedly rolled her green eyes. Her stepmother continued to pace before her, ranting all the time, quickly passing from one lavish wall to another with the quick strides of her lean, muscular legs. The two of them were alone in the castle bed room, a palatial dwelling and the largest in the nation of Gyne.

‘Don’t roll your eyes at me missy!” The Queen snapped angrily, pouting her full lips, ‘this is completely intolerable! Your father pays for some of the best dancing instructors on the continent to teach you and then I find that you have been skipping out on lessons! And for what!”
“I was reading Illian,” the eighteen year old said resignedly, one slim finger playing with her strawberry blond curls, ‘there were scrolls on dragon anatomy in the castle library no one’s touched in ages.”

“And what good is that to you?” Asked her step mother, slim brown hands resting with ease on her narrow hips, “a princess doesn’t need to read. You should focus on looking pretty!”

Both women were stark counter parts when it came to looks, although both were very beautiful. Lydia was of normal height and pale, her figure very lean and girlish. Small in bust and flat in stomach, her hips were wide while her butt was small.

The Princess was not athletic looking, but was also not skinny fat either. Her red gold hair hung in curls to her shoulder, framing a very delicate face with dark blue eyes. Her white dress was mid thigh length and very modest.

The Queen was very dark in comparison, nearly nut brown from tanning hours a day each summer. Very tall and very hour glass shaped, a short purple dress clung to her ultra fit figure. The skimpy garment, an expensive Imperial import, showed off every inch of her firm tan legs, hardened by years of workouts.

Despite her narrow hips, Illian had a much larger ass than her step daughter, the perfect cheeks ripened and honed by years of squats. Large breasts bulged the top of her blouse, the DD cups surging up towards her swan like neck. Illians face was angelically lean, her eyes as dark as her short black hair, and despite her thirty years looked nearer her daughters age.

“Pick up your shirt,” the older woman demanded.

“What?” Asked the princess, outraged.

“If you’ve been skipping workouts you might have been snacking,” said the Queen, “now stand!”

Grudgingly, Lydia stood and hiked up her dress. Illian bent, face close to the girls flat belly. Her well manicured nails searched vainly for an inch to pinch, moving down belly and legs.

‘See, not an extra ounce,” said Lydia, dropping the dress.

“Fine, but you must attend your lessons. I’ll not have you porking out! Your father will need you for a marriage alliance and more men will want you if you”re slim! Girls with hips like you put on weight very easily. And less reading , it will give you wrinkles!”

A knock sounded at the door. Illian opened it, unconsciously waggling her firm buttocks, revealing the kindly face of the Steward Kilros. A scroll was clutched in his hand, bearing a double eagle wax seal.

“Ah, Kilros, what messages from the northern kingdoms? Which king has made the best bid for my daughters hand?”

“Well, none of them madam,” he confessed.

“Impossible! She’s gorgeous, any man would kill for her! Did you describe how slim she was? How about how pert her chest is?”

Lydia blushed slightly.

‘They didn’t care about her looks my Queen,” said the steward, “we stand on the brink of invasion from the Dragon Queen. None of the northerners will stand against her in alliance.”

The Queen went apocalyptic, ranting and screaming while trying vainly to destroy her step daughter’s largest book shelf. Soon her hair was a mess and her purple dress had ridden up, showing off her lacy panties. Despite her fit looks, Illinian was quickly panting.

‘There is however a message from our ambassador to the Empire,” said Kilros.

‘The bastard Emperor?” asked Illian, smoothing her hair and pulling her dress back down.

“Yes, he has agreed to enter into a marriage alliance with us, provided that he may see Lydia before the ceremony.”

“What is he like?” asked the Princess, partly relieved that she wasn’t going to have to marry a half barbarian northerner.

‘they say Emperor Basil is a young man, huge and devilishly handsome,” said Kilros, “Bards in the Empire sing of his battle prowess and he supposedly is a friend of the small folk and scholars.”

“Who cares what he’s like! He’s got the biggest army on earth!” Said the Queen, “you”re going to charm the pants off of him Lydia! Well have to get you ready. Three workouts a day, no more red meat or bread at all. You mustn’t drink anything the day of the ceremony, so you’ll look your best!”

‘That may be a poor idea my Queen,” said Kilros.

“What do you mean?”

‘Supposedly this Basil prefers his women fat.”

“What do you mean fat?”

“Well, one of his concubines was said to once be one of the fittest women in the world, but is now supposedly so fat she needs a dozen slaves to cart her around. Apparently he said he will sleep with no petitioner under 200 lbs.”

Illian’s eyes shot to her whipcord lean daughter, tracing up lean legs and flat belly. For her part, Lydia felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her belly.

‘Lydia darling, lets talk about this somewhere more comfortable... Like the kitchen.”


The small hall by the kitchens was always warm, but today Lydia felt sweltering in it. Her step mother had plopped her down into a heavy chair and pushed it tight up against a heavy table before vanishing into the kitchens.

Listening to her shout orders, Lydia considered running. While she had hated the exercise Illian always forced on her, the Princess wasn’t exactly keen on doubling in size. That maniac gleam in the Queen’s eyes didn’t help.

“All of its for a cause,” the girl said to herself, “ Basils army is all that stands between my kingdom and devastation.”

It didn’t hurt that Kilros had had a picture of her prospective groom. Even allowing for artistic beautification, Basil looked like an extremely muscled God fallen to earth. That his Capitol was a thousand miles from Illian didn’t hurt.

“Here we go!” announced the queen, bursting through the door with a platter stacked high with freshly baked bread and sizzling bacon. The huge stack of food dwarfed Illian’s lean frame and Lydia was amazed the skinny woman could carry it.

Normally the Queen would rather die than serve food but today she didn’t care that a platter of butter spattered against her dress. When it clashed onto the table, Lydia’s belly lurched at the realization she would have to eat it all.

“Ummm... I don’t think I can eat all of this...” the princess began, before a soft slice of bread coated in creamy butter was thrust into her mouth. She began chewing almost automatically, realizing that a thick glaze of sugar had been added to the bread. Before she knew it an entire baguette had vanished down her mouth and she sighed contentedly.

“No, don’t quit eating!” yelled the Queen shoving a bread and bacon sandwich dripping with grease and more butter into her mouth, “if you stop you’ll get full! Eat faster!”

“Ugh... Shouldn’t I pace myself?”

“Of course not! It’s only an hour until the cakes are done baking! You have to finish this first!”

Baguette after baguette went down the Princesses throat until she collapsed back onto her chair. The platter was empty, all of it emptied into an immense food baby that bulged out her flat stomach, pressing into the table and pinning her to the chair. Greasy butter stained her mouth, glistening softly on her downy cheeks.

“Oh dear,” said Illian, whose own dress was splattered with butter, looking with concern at her step daughter, “are you okay?”

The princess could only groan in response. So many carbs had been stuffed into her that thinking hurt, let alone speaking.

“I may have filled you up on the bread...” Illian said watching the rise and fall of the girls swollen belly, “oh look the cakes here!”

A pair of sweating cooks carried in a huge sheet cake, three feet by three feet, and thick with sugary frosting. As it was set down another servant set down a huge crock of whipped cream next to the queen.

“Come on dear, its time to eat!” Illian said excitedly.

“No more... “ gasped the Princess, “ no more food... Ever again...”

“Come on Lydia, you should think of this as a blessing. Most girls would love letting go!”

“I have conditions... ,” said the Princess, struggling to rise, ““before I eat another bite.”

“Name them then.”

“No force feeding. I can eat at my own pace, I”m not a baby.”

“Fine what else?”

“I want my full access to the library back.”

“I suppose you can eat and read, what else?”

Lydia’s eyes lit to the huge crock of whipped cream next to the queen. A evil grin cracked her frail face.

“Once a day I pick something you have to eat.”

“Now see here young lady...”

“What, afraid of getting fat dear “Mother”? Is your figure that delicate?”

“Of course not, it’s just...”

“Or maybe your worried that your metabolism has slowed now that you”re in your thirties?”

“I’m only twenty nine!”

“For the second year in a row. Now eat up Illian, I”m wasting away here.”

Gingerly, the Queen picked up a silver serving spoon and shoveled out a fat dollop of cream. The fatty semisolid quivered before her, as she opened her full lips and cleaned off the large spoon. Her cheeks bulged as she quickly chewed the fluff. Finally, the woman swallowed like it was broken glass.

“Ewww, its so sweet....”

“I’d wager there’s another thirty spoon fulls in there, “ Lydia said with an evil grin, “now best eat up.”

Spoon by spoon, the queen emptied the crock. Having eaten nothing but vegetables for years, her taste buds were unprepared for a near gallon of whipped cream. When finished she looked sick, her tan cheeks nearly green. Lean hands held her flat stomach, which failed to bulge even slightly despite her having eaten more calories than she had shoved into her daughter.

“I feel sick...” The Queen moaned.

“Why don’t you go lay down,” smiled Lydia, still swollen but feeling much better as she sat up and cut a piece of cake, “you must feel bad eating through your afternoon workout.”


In the end, guards had to carry the insensate queen up to her bed chamber, the woman’s skinny body drunk with her high calorie punishment. She lay groaning for hours before she passed out. For her part, Lydia slowly demolished half the cake over the course of the evening. At the end of it her belly was still as swollen as if she was pregnant and she felt sore as her stepmother probably did.

But where Illian had a look of painful horror on her face, Lydia bore a smirk of victory.

Back to the main story line, with lots of gratuitous eating and weight gain!

Last edited by Britt Reid; 06-04-2014 at 07:50 PM.
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Old 06-01-2014, 01:32 PM   #30
Join Date: Oct 2013
Posts: 120
Sulla has said some nice things

Chapter 21: Ironic Punishment

Our plan was a simple one, but because our chances were already so dicey it would require a fair bit of sacrifice and chance.

Katrina and her squad of Paladins charged around the right flank of their mountainous co-religionist, presenting a solid wall of blessed shields. The Liche started hurling lightning bolts and fire balls at them, an unending storm that served merely to scorch the Athenan’s shieldwall. Each of the women were channeling faith into the barrier, barely enough to resist the elf-witch’s formidable might. Deciding that magic was going to need a hand, she summoned her dryad slaves with a petulant whistle.

The pudgy sylvans extricated themselves from the doughy mound of the Paladin they had been trying to climb and turned their wrath on the slimmer Athenans. Katrina turned her shield wall into a tortoise like a battlefield expert, her Paladins beating off attacks from all sides.

Normally a Dryad was a formidable foe, but oversampling the treats they had gorged their captives with had made the normally lithe nature sprites slow and uncoordinated. Each waddled into combat on chunky thighs and delivered blows of painful slowness with their flabby arms, easily blocked by the Paladin’s shields. Quickly they fell back, wheezing as they tried to catch their breath and fortunate that the Paladins had not butchered all of them.

But while her Dryads had failed to so much as harm the Paladins, the out of shape tree women had served to take their focus off the Elf-Lich. Tossing back her perfect hair, the slender elf twisted her pretty fingers and formed a glutton charm of unimaginable potency. Focusing on fighting rather than their mental wards, fully half of the Paladins fell to the charm.

Ignoring Katrina’s commands, they dropped shield and sword and began stripping the armor off their perfect bodies as they ran to the nearest table. Half naked they began stuffing themselves, shoving handfuls of pastries and candies into their mouths.

Before Katrina could get her remaining sisters back into formation the Dryads fell upon them again in a panting tide, even as the Lich continued raining down gluttony spells. Each Paladin could hold off several Dryads so great was the physical disparity and now that they were warned could probably have held out against most gluttony charms, but not against both combined.

One by one each girl was hit with a charm, leading to a moment of confusion where the plump dryads would seize their arms, undo their belts and lead them to the feasting table to join their sisters, who now boasted swollen food babies and the starts of double chins.

Katrina was the last to go down, having standing atop a dozen wounded Dryads and chanting prayers to her Goddess as she waved her blade about, sweating furiously as she mentally fought off the gluttony charms. Finally nearly a score of the sylvan girls seized her arms and dragged the pregnant Paladin to a table kicking and screaming.

Very little of the food they tried to stuff into her managed to make it down her mouth and she bit more of the Dryads than she did food, but each bite was still more calories than she normally ate in a day of her low cal diet. Her armor quickly began looking a little snugger than normal and those high cheek bones started to soften.

But while the Paladins had failed to reach the Elf-Witch, they had been only one prong in our plan and the one most likely to fail. In truth they were a diversion, ready to sacrifice their lives and figures in exchange for a chance at victory. Our main hopes lay in Carmella, Basil and myself.

The charge of the Paladins had cleared off most of the Dryads, leaving the elephantine Athenan before me clear of tree women. Swiftly I ascended her cliff like paunch, which had no shortage of handholds due to her many rolls. A burning began in my thighs and I knew that the old, skinny me would have been on top of this girl with a single leap. But with my Chi flow interrupted by the change in my body structure I had lost that near superhuman agility and had to make due with climbing expertise. Still I was rather undeniably plump and was soon sweating.

Soon enough I was standing atop the Athenan’s boulder like form, the insatiate woman moaning something beneath me. I took a running leap to the next prone girl, this one an even larger dome of fat in the ruins of a Curvacian’s robe. Landing on it was like falling onto jello and I almost sank into the soft mound of lard. By the time I stood, it was almost too late but thankfully I was close to the Lich’s position.

Basil and Carmella had not been idle either.

The Emperor was carrying an immense table as a shield, the solid oaken circle inscribed with as many blessings Katrina could put on it and barring as many defensive spells as Carmella could think of. It must have weighed two hundred pounds, but thanks to his herculean build and Amazonian blood Basil carried it like a leaf. The few Dryads that tried to stop him were simply run down, stomped senseless by his mighty boots. Carmella followed in his wake, the mage barely able to keep up.

Because of the difficulty I had had in climbing we reached the Lich almost simultaneously. Her attention was on Basil, the lithe elf launching a storm of spells at the oaken timbers before him. She was growing increasingly frustrated by the futility of her attacks, even though the impromptu shield was falling apart the Lich was evidently one who cared only for immediate satisfaction. Outputting all that magical power must have left even her drained a tad.

Indeed as I prepared to jump I noticed that those perfect abs of hers were just a little less defined and that her breasts had shrank a miniscule amount. Her hair had lost a little bit of its supernatural luster and the witch’s taunt runner’s legs looked a tad softer. Of course, I would have still killed for her looks and fitness level even at my thinnest, but a sign that she could be weakened was good enough for me as I jumped.

Leaping from the soft paunch of the obese priestess, I sailed through the air like a rather round arrow. While my still rather soft thighs lacked the power they once had possessed, there was still enough strength to carry me along. My added poundage probably helped increase the power of my strike a bit when both of my booted feet crashed into the Elf’s solar plexus, winding her and knocking the woman to the ground beneath me.

I was on her in a second, pinning her hands before she could move. Still though the elf witch fought, even though she was deprived of her spells and was built like a large breasted tooth pick she almost threw me off with her wild gyrations.

Luckily Basil was there at my side and his massive muscles proved enough to keep her arms pinned and her mouth forced open. Carmella came up, her hands already weaving a spell. Terror came into the Elf’s perfect blue eyes as she faced the end of her long existence. Of course, it actually wasn’t what she expected, but if the Lich had known I think she would have preferred permanent death.

‘Summon Ice Cream!” yelled Carmella as her spell finished, the magic shooting off of her fingers. In between the Mage’s hands and the Witch’s mouth the magical energy turned into a tornado of ice cream. The witch tried to spit it out, but Basil’s firm hand kept her mouth open and facing ahead. Naturally the prone elf swallowed rather than drowned, gulping down mouthful after mouthful of magical ice cream. The stuff got everywhere, staining my clothes and splattering Basil’s armor but most of it went into the Lich.

As we had guessed, while the gluttony of others empowered the Lich, her own eating served to redirect that power. As the magical ice cream went down her gullet, Yvarra, and the Paladins we had brought with us looked up from their feast in confusion (suddenly filled to bursting), while the Dryads released their captives and starred down at their bulging bellies in horror.

Even the near comatose fatties who had been powering the Elf-Witch awoke, their mountainous forms beginning to shrink to something like a normal human’s as the magical gluttony was undone. But while her victims shrank, the inverse was happening to the Lich.

As tens of thousands of magical calories went down her gullet and were instantly converted to fat by the strange magics fueling her, the Elven lich started to grow. Her breasts were hit first, the already huge hooters surging forwards. Already large Es quickly jumped up the alphabet and began losing their perk and shape somewhere around H, sagging downwards and to the side as the rest of her body began to catch up. Next hit was her belly, the toned abs smoothing over with their first layer of adipose.

A lot of her stomach fat accumulated on the lower half of her belly, bulging down towards her crotch like a middle age housewife and quickly covering her still shapely thighs. Before long the upper half began catching up, forming a flabby, ever increasing belly roll. Love handles sprouted alongside them, fat flabby things that overran the small chain bikini before bursting the precious garment. Within a minute she was as paunchy as Yvarra, her perfect torso lost within a sea of still expanding fat.

Basil gave an alarm as the Elf surged upwards and I feared momentarily she had found a way to throw us off, but I needn’t have worried. The woman’s tone, firm and shapely ass had decided to play catch up with the rest of her body. Transforming from the high, muscular rear of a champion athlete into an immense donk that quickly passed my own took seconds. Steely buns sagged downwards and to the sides, soon broadening and thickening massively until her monstrous buttocks alone weighed more than my hundred eighty pounds. The growth of her immense butt forced the Lich into a sitting position, her still trim legs, arms and face poking ridiculously out of an obese torso.

This strange juxtaposition of proud athleticism and slovenly obesity quickly passed though as Carmella kept up the spell. A seemingly never ending spurt of ice cream fueled further weight gain in her limbs. Lean runners thighs softened and spread, quickly impacting each other with an audible slap even though they had started angled far apart. Muscular calves turned into toneless cankles and a thick coating of cellulite soon covered every inch of the elf’s once gorgeous legs. Her firm, graceful arms were not spared the transformation either.

Flab soon collected under the witch’s triceps, while her biceps and forearms grew puffy. Very quickly that underarm flab turned into wobbly bingo wings, her arms raveling Basil’s in sheer bulk if not at all in strength. A series of pops sounded as the woman’s graceful wrists thickened and snapped the bangles around them, while my own hands soon left indents from where they held her soft flesh. Last of all her graceful fingers grew plump and sausage like, forcing her gaudy collection of rings to pop off like champagne corks. Before long her hands were too fat and clumsy for even the simplest of magical spells, so Basil and I released her.

The last thing to fatten up was the elf’s previously untouched face. Impressively high cheek bones vanished under flabby chip monk cheeks, which quickly made her big doe eyes look piggish as the tissue around them grew fatty. Her swan like neck thickened drastically, while a soft second chin sprouted from her firm jawline. Three other chins descended from it, before the whole complex of neck fat joined with her round cheeks to form flabby jowls.

Carmella’s spell ended and we stood back to admire our handy work. The obese elf’s body was still expanding, although much more slower than before as the last of the ice cream was absorbed. Although not a mountain of lard like her captives, the lich was so fat as to be no danger to anyone.

Even if she had had the strength to move it would have been impossible, her tree trunk thighs were pressed up so close to one another that they could barely move, while the fat of her arms made bending them below her waist impossible. Even in her prone position the woman tottered, threatening to fall either backwards or forwards as gravity tried to decide whether to pull more on her vast buttocks or her saggy stomach and breasts.

“What… what have you done to me?” wheezed the elf, her once enchanting voice made into an annoying gasp that contrived to be both squeaky and husky at the same time.

“Just giving you a taste of your own medicine,” joked Carmella, the voluptuous mage standing so as to emphasize her hour glass figure.

“If you can’t take something, you really shouldn’t dish it out,” I said, teasingly poking her saggy, ice cream coated boob with my finger. She tried to swat at me, but was so slow and weak I easily evaded her, while she began to sweat with the effort.

“You know I had seriously considered your offer,” Basil said mockingly as he wiped the ice cream off his armor, “but given my paramours” proclivity to gain weight I”m glad I decided not to. Fat does not look good on you at all!”

“I’ll make you pay for this!” she shrieked, “I’ll be sexy again!”

The Lich’s fat fingers waggled, trying and failing to form the symbols for spells so different were they to her previously limber digits. Verbal incantations similarly failed, her squeaky gasps unable to form the right intonations around her fat lips and pudgy cheeks as she once so easily had done with her alluring voice. Even this minimal effort made the beached whale of a woman sweat buckets though.

“Careful,” I said, “a woman your size shouldn’t get excited or strain themselves. That bad diet of yours has consequences!”

She started screaming and sobbing then, in a way that managed to be annoying, breathless, disgusting and above all loud. We left her then, returning to our recovering companions.

Yvarra had managed to push away the food before her. She was returned to her normal size, the temporarily tent like garments now stretched taut on her plump body. The puffy brunette wiped some food from her firm lips and quickly set about loosening her now far too tight belt as I approached.

“You alright?” I asked her as she managed to get the belt undone, her paunch surging forth more freely.

‘that depends, what weight do you think I”m at?”

“About what you were before, I think.”

“Well at least I”m not any bigger, although walking out of here won’t be as easy as coming in. Remind me to start working out some more once we get back to the capitol. I don’t want to wind up like that tubbo over there.”

With that the Priestess gestured towards the immobile lich, still ranting but increasingly out of breath and red in the face. Not long after that a magical plea for assistance reached Yvarra, who waddled off to find her imprisoned fellow Priestesses.

Luckily all of the Curvacian’s were still alive, merely imprisoned out of the Elf-Witch’s sight, although all of them had gone even further to seed. The formerly soft but still in decent shape Paladins and Priestesses were now down right fat and only a handful of them were ever again fit enough to return to combat duty.

On the other side of the religious divide, Katrina and her comrades quickly roused themselves, the squad of reinforcements little worse for wear. Most of their ancillary adipose from the spell had already dissipated, leaving only a handful with the faintest hint of a double chin. Their stomachs still bulged from all they had eaten, but most of that would be gone the next day.

Despite that their commander still yelled at them for giving into weakness, promising each disciplinary exercise until they returned to form. To her credit, the pregnant Paladin also credited them with exemplary courage and did join in on the exercise herself, no doubt horrified at having however briefly having a double chin.

Those Athenans who had been held captive proved somewhat less fortunate. Although they had shrunk down from their mountain-like forms of a few minutes ago, a good deal of their fat stayed on. On average about fifty pounds of soft adipose clung tenaciously to their formerly fit figures.

Due to their previous growth snapping all of their clothes, I had a good and rather alluring view of the nude women examining their rather soft, formerly athletic bodies. Now that they were mobile again, each was running their hands over thick hips, bouncy breasts, soft bellies and meaty thighs. Each of them explored the heft of their breasts or the depths of their new found rolls in turn, somewhat disgusted at their softness but relieved that it wasn’t worse.

Almost all of the chubby young women were able to lose this extra weight and return to fighting form within a year and their temple bore them no grudge for having been bulked up unwillingly. Apart from extra exercise none of them was even punished, although they did not receive the same awards that Katrina and her squad did.

One or two of them did leave their temple for civilian life, unable to tame the appetite for food months of handfed gluttony had given them and finding their chubbiness too hard to lose. Both of them were ushered out without ceremony, but handed a decent amount of coin to get them by.

Luckily for the now ex-Paladins though, both of the girls were counted gorgeous in the Empire’s fatphillic beauty standards. Although they had violated Athena’s creed of fitness, their merciful goddess had not revoked the gift of bustiness each of her Paladins was granted, and thanks to their tall frames the extra weight made each of them a rather thick, soft hour glass.

Too out of shape for adventuring and not knowing any other trade, each girl set out to find a husband, which proved rather easy. This was because former Athenans have always been highly rated as wives by military men for their courage and discipline, many of the Empire’s military heroes had had retired Paladins as mothers.

Basil graciously made sure the two were invited to the next military ball, where the voluptuous girls had their choice of prospective husbands. They were married within six months (to a pair of brothers, a young general and admiral respectively, recently promoted from the ranks), both of the brides already bulging further with child.

Basil approached the Dryads who were standing around nervously now that they were vastly outnumbered by the suddenly mobile Paladins. Many of them were wounded, but none had died and they were already healing each other. None of them had lost an ounce either, later I would learn that a Dryad’s strange metabolism made losing weight nearly impossible.

The Emperor approached with his sword sheathed, but with one strong hand on its hilt, and the tallest, plumpest Dryad approached him. Round and flabby, her hair was the color of autumn leaves and her paunch and love handles combined to make her thong of vines almost invisible.

“Are we at peace here?” asked Basil, eyeing the chubby sylvans warily.

“We are indeed at peace,” the out of shape Dryad said, “and we thank you Emperor. We are forever in your debt for freeing us from that Lich’s curse. She stole us from the groves the Oak-Goddess set us to guard and marred our figures with her disgusting food. Know that the Ladies of the Wood are now forever at your call.”

“I am glad to hear that,” said Basil, “I would be glad to broaden relations between the wood realms and the Empire. May I invite you to set up an embassy within our city?”

“I would gladly accept, but I will need to lose weight first. This flab is embarrassing and I am certain I would be the laughing stock of those prissy noble women,” with that the Dryad gave her paunch a slap, jiggles reverberating through her belly and thighs.

‘That would not prove necessary,” reassured the Emperor, “but tell me, what should we do with this Lich? Her like are notoriously hard to permanently kill and with enough time she may shrink enough to prove dangerous again.”

“Oh there’s no worry of that,” smirked the dryad, “fat as she is, her current weight is going to be the skinniest she’ll ever be again.”

“Really, how will you manage that?” asked Basil, casting an eye at the huge elf witch who was starring at the Dryad in horror.

“Over the past months we Dryads have become very good at feeding women,” the sylvan, “and although most don’t know this, we hold onto grudges for a long time. My women will consider it an honor to take vengeance on this bitch by stuffing her face. Forever.”

When we left the vacant tower behind, the last noise I heard were the Lich’s tears, muffled as they were coming from around mouthfuls of food.

Last edited by Britt Reid; 06-01-2014 at 05:48 PM.
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Old 06-01-2014, 01:32 PM   #31
Join Date: Oct 2013
Posts: 120
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Chapter 22: Diplomatic Missions

We returned to the Capitol city about two weeks later, having left everything well put together behind us.

The brainwashed Paladins outside the Elven ruin had been returned to their old selves and now zealously made up their former misbehavior by guarding the entrance as Carmella directed teams of mage-archeologists to tear the place apart in search of knowledge. It would take a while to get anything of use, but I followed her reports closely anyway and not only because each ended with a detailed description of the formerly lithe elf-witch’s nonstop weight gain.

Once I got back I went back to my diet, gratified to find that I had not gained any weight from my binges at the roadside taverns and in the Paladin’s camp. Keeping to a strict diet was rather difficult as I soon felt rather bored. It turned out I had organized my intelligence department so well it practically ran without me being there.

Rare was the day I actually had more than a few hours of work to do, no matter how many reports I wrote or orders I gave. Everyone else seemed busy working: Basil at governing the Empire with all its attendant problems and Yvarra with her temple rights, screwing and eating (although the bulging woman was making an effort to be more active and on occasion even passed on second courses).

Katrina vanished for a while after being decorated for helping save so many of her sisters. While her superiors praised her bravery and courage she had technically violated her orders to stay safe in the Capitol.

Worse she had endangered the safety of her daughter to be, a child that her temple superior’s had high hopes for. Thus, the redhead was put on something like house arrest, with several temple healers and paladins about her at all times to make sure she stayed within the Temple of Athena’s clean white confines.

She complained bitterly about it in a letter to Yvarra, claiming that they wished her to be on bedrest all the time and kept trying to pamper her, all the while complaining on how big her bump was getting and how her ankles were starting to swell. It would be months before I saw her again, the temple not releasing her to active duty until many weeks after giving birth. Yvarra and myself had wanted some schadenfreude at seeing her with a flabby post-baby body, but Katrina was fit as ever by that point.

For a boring month I worked at my office, bored and rather lonely. My chief delights were exercise when I got home, something that helped me shed another twenty pounds. Down into the 160s I was starting to have a waist again, with my full hips at last wider than my flat, but still thick tummy and some definition returning to my round legs. While I hoped to get back to my old form I soon found myself plateauing after that, my body starting to refuse to let go of anymore of its fat reserves.

For a while I considered getting back into the dating game. Indeed, I went out clubbing a couple of times but soon found the experience somewhat offputting. Feeding their dates had become an expectation for men, while a fad of mutual feeding had become all the range for women.

My being a bit slimmer than most women now only seemed to egg my possible paramour’s on and I found that my will power crumbled in the face of lust. Thus I ended the two dates I took (one from an Imperial Guard Major, another from a still mostly skinny noble college girl) massively stuffed, another contribution to my lack of weight loss.

The morning after my date with the young noble woman found me at my desk. A faint tingling was still evident in between my legs, while my stomach was still swollen from the massive course of halfing baked pancakes and waffles my date had stuffed me with previously to putting her face between my legs.

My right hand was making annotations on reports about troop movements gathered from the realm of the Dragon Queen of the West, while my left was idly drumming on my lower stomach, taut against the size 14 green dress I had recently bought. Before I could decide what to massage, I was interrupted by a knock at my door.

“Enter please,” I said, my left hand quickly moving up to the desk top.

My secretary came in, clad in a tight red skirt suit. I noted that Karli’s weight had continued to climb, when I had left her thick waist had just the start of a definite pooch, but now a mid-sized pot belly strained the buttons of her skirt. A double chin had also grown in, rounding out her face, while her breasts were larger than ever, threatening to pop out of her dress and so large as to make closing her jacket impossible.

‘The Emperor to see you madam Ashlay,” she announced.

‘Send him in immediately,” I said at once, not eager to keep my boss waiting.

Karli turned slowly, her weight gain ruining her once perfect balance, giving me a quick glimpse of how her widening rear strained her skirt before leaving. Basil’s massive form quickly replaced her, the hulking royal easily filling the door way with his shoulders. Very quickly I rose, grateful I no longer had to use my hands to help myself, and gestured for him to sit.

‘To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, my Emperor?” I asked as he sat.

“I have been thinking,” he began, “about the Dragon Queen.”

“Interesting,” I replied, “I’ve got fresh reports about that greedy bitch right here. She’s about to invade the largest kingdom to her North, a place called Richnaur. I understand you’ve been having meetings with their ambassador.”

‘The man has been frankly begging us to intervene,” said Basil, ‘They”re quite certain they’ll be destroyed otherwise.”

I couldn’t blame the man for desperation.

The Dragon Queen had first reared her scaly red head several centuries ago, a flying storm of teeth and fire that appeared out of the western ocean. Possessed of massive magical power and all the strength that being a flying lizard the size of a warship entailed, she had quickly subdued the largest city in the Western empire into paying her tribute and worshipping her as a goddess.

Every army, mage and hero sent against her steadily encroachments towards the Capitol had been burned to cinders, until a full quarter of the Empire bowed to her. Only a massive ritual involving every non-incinerated magic user in the Imperial service had stopped her by placing a dragon-proof barrier through the hilly country laying halfway in between the Capitol and her city.

Since then, the Dragon Queen had expanded north and west against Imperial provinces that revolted once they were cut off. Her Empire was rather large by this point, its growth only slowed because its nigh immortal queen would doze off on the immense pile of gold that was her throne/bed for a few decades every once and a while.

Unfortunately she had installed a priest hood that brainwashed the populace of her demesne, making them loyal enough to not revolt for the most part during her slumbers. It didn’t help that as a Dragon she was a natural shape changer, often taking the form of a breathtakingly beautiful redhead so that could keep a harem of enchanted, loyal and utterly sated nobles.

“Are you going to help him?” I asked, genuinely uncertain, ‘the Empire is larger than it’s been in centuries, but most of the army is stretched rather tight occupying the new territories you’ve taken. It’s been easy going in the former Caliphates so far, but if we withdraw troops we might have a revolt.”

“Practicality would demand that we don’t help them,” admitted Basil, “but other concerns say we shouldn’t miss a chance to kick her teeth in.”

“Even though she can’t cross our borders herself the scaly bitch does have a large army,” I advised, “bigger than the forces we have on this side of the narrow sea, even with the temple forces. And she would destroy any force sent to invade her.”

“All of that’s true,” said Basil, “but the Dragon Queen is the reason the Empire was in the state it was when I ascended. Our ancient defeats at her hands caused civil wars where the nobility took too much power and left us open to losing so much territory to the Khanates and Caliphs in the first place.”

“All true,” I admitted, “but vengeance alone isn’t enough.”

“There are dynastic reasons as well to consider,” said the Emperor, a bit vaguely.

“How so? None in your house have ever made any treaties with the Richnaurs.”

“Technically that’s because I don’t have a house,” said Basil, “Its easy to forget but I am a bastard. I owe my throne to the loyalty of the army and its stability to the distracted state of the nobles. So far the noble women have been eating themselves silly, but sooner or later they’ll wake up and see how much power I’ve taken from them. Before that happens I”m going to need a legitimate heir.”

“What about one of Yvarra’s girls? Or Katrina’s daughter? Or any of the girls you’ve put into the Curvacians?”

“Unfortunately they”re all girls,” said the Emperor, “one of the older laws states that only male bastards can be legitimized. Even if I change the rule that alone won’t win me any loyalty with the nobility. Once they wake up, they’ll demand a legitimate heir and we could have open warfare between the noble women as they each try and force a daughter on me. Any house I choose would be seen as the favorite and every other house will loathe me for my choice forever.”

“I take it then that you want the Richnaur’s to provide a solution in the form of a willing womb?”

“They’re an old line,” said Basil, “descended from Imperial governors back when the place was a province so they’re not complete barbarians. The current King is offering up his daughter, who supposed has hips wide enough for an army to march out of, even if she’s a skinny young thing. This Princess Lydia is the only girl from a royal house of the right age suitable for marriage.”

“Have you agreed to marry her already?” I said, I could barely keep a bit of jealousy out of my voice. I had always had a thing for the Emperor. Concerns of his safety had prevented me for screwing him back when I was his slender body guard and I had been too disgusted with my weight gain once it became no longer an issue. While Basil’s sleeping around with every Priestess who would open her legs (i.g. all of them) hadn’t bothered me, him getting into a permanent relationship did on some petty level.

“I received the reply that they’ll meet my conditions less than an hour ago,” he said, “I wanted to talk to you before I agreed.”

“I would say that this would be a fool’s war unless you’ve found some weapon able to defeat the Dragon Queen,” I said after a moment, “We have the financial and military resources to beat her armies provided you are at the helm, but not the dragon herself.”

“I thank you for being so forthright with me Ashlay,” said the Emperor, he stood and withdrew another letter from the pocket of the Imperial Guard uniform he customarily wore. Upon handing it to me, I found that it was written in thick dwarven runes.

“What is this?” I asked, dwarven not being one of the languages I spoke.

“Its from the Under-King of the Dwarves,” Basil announced, “Part of it is an invitation to his heir’s wedding. The other half details a weapon recently found by his two sons in a ruined hold, high in the mountains.”

“What weapon is this?” I asked, my curiousity piqued.

“Apparently its called Wyrmdring,” said Basil, wrapping his mouth around the unfamiliar words, “and it means ‘smasher of dragons”. Once it was the Hammer of the Dwarven High King and it smashed a dozen fire drakes during their ancient war of independence from the elves, all the while shielding the dwarven army from their flames. The Dwarves are offering it for sale.”

‘That’s wonderful!” I said, happy that a solution had presented itself, “what’s the price? Dwarves can be rather demanding when it comes to gold.”

‘There is apparently no gold in question,” said Basil, ‘the entire price is apparently dictated by his sons, who according to dwarven excavation laws own the weapon completely despite its cultural value. The eldest requests that I volunteer to be at his wedding, to educate his sons when the time arises and to foster them in the event of his untimely death.”

‘That seems easy enough,” I said, “We’ll have to make a trip, but at least it is cheap. What did the younger one want?”

“Well… that’s where you come in,” said Basil, ‘The younger son is Prince Helmwarst, a bit of a wild one when it comes to women. Apparently he prefers human girls, which the other dwarfs find odd.”

“I see…” I said, “Well, I’ve never dated a dwarf before. What does he want, to marry me?” I asked, not at all anxious to get involved

“Oh heavens no,” said Basil, “He’s only forty, far too young for that in dwarven years. You see, apparently the Prince heard a mistold tale of your slaying of the Caliph. The dwarves think that you screwed him to death and hold you in quite high esteem for this. Apparently having sex with you has already entered their youth lexicon as a term for sexual prowess.”

“Um….,” I managed to stammer, blushing rather badly at this.

“It seems that Helmwarst wants to make a name for himself. He requests two things from you in exchange for the hammer. He wants to have you as his date at his brother’s wedding.”

“That’s not unreasonable,” I admitted. While dwarves tended to be short and bristly, many of the younger ones were quite fit and had only short beards. Due to my shortness I wasn’t even that much taller than them. I had never dated one but that wasn’t so unreasonable.

“The second part is that after the wedding he wants you to stay in the dwarven city be his concubine,” Basil told me.

“That’s outrageous! I have a life here! An important job! I can’t go trade that for a life of easy sex!” I protested.

“Its not for life,” cautioned Basil, “merely for a month. So, what do you say?”

I thought hard for a moment, chewing my lip in concentration. While I might have objected to sleeping around for political reasons, it wouldn’t be the first time I had used sex to get what the Empire needed. The dwarf prince seemed attracted to me at least and it was only for a month. Not much when compared to the prospect of the Dragon Queens threat to the Empire forever removed. Plus, I had been looking to increase my sex life lately.

“I’ll do it,” I decided at last, “What’s the worst that could come out of it?”

My stomach, still very full, rumbled in seeming protest straining against my dress. In hindsight, I really, really should have listened to it.

Last edited by Britt Reid; 06-04-2014 at 07:26 PM.
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Old 06-01-2014, 01:32 PM   #32
Join Date: Oct 2013
Posts: 120
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Chapter 23: The Princess's Growth

Lydia closed her most recently conquered book and yawned, stretching out her arms above her head. Gently, the princess and prospective queen sat the tome upon her bed side table, while picking up a silver bell sitting next to it.

The bell’s short tingle was followed by the door of her bed chamber opening swiftly, one of the maids Lydia had been appointed instantly appearing. The plump noble girl was a pale red head in a loose black uniform, a far cry from Lydia’s lean body. Well, formerly a far cry.

“May I get you anything Princess?”, said the girl, named Sarah, averting her eyes from how Lydia lay atop her bed wearing only tight black underwear.

“Please return this book to the library,” Lydia said with a soft wave of her hand, “bring me another if you would. And I feel rather parched. Perhaps a hot chocolate or two? Please don’t forget the whipped cream.”

“Of course your highness,” said the chubby maid with a curtsy, taking the book (as well as an empty dish that had formerly held a good deal of expensive chocolates) and making to go.

“Oh and a platter of cookies if you would,” asked Lydia, “I’m getting rather hungry.”

Once the maid was gone, Lydia sat her red gold curls back upon the thick pillows piled behind her, feeling her eyelids droop downwards. Part of her wished to take up another book, but the stack of volumes from the palace library was all the way on the other side of the room. Perhaps she’d have her maid fetch another when she returned, for now the Princess was far too comfortable to move. Golden sunlight poured through her open window, both further tanning the Princess” soft gold skin and warming her snug body.

As the softening princess fought a losing battle against sleep, she drowsily reflected over the past month. Lydia’s force feeding session the first day had left her sore, swollen and unable to eat a bite for an entire day. Since then, the Queen had agreed to their bargain that her step daughter be allowed to feed herself. Lydia had never been a natural glutton and after a day of trying to eat four gut bursting meals left her gagging, decided on a program of round the clock snacking.

Snacks were always at hand: Bowls of fried potato chips with dip, platters of cookies, plates of fried chick strips, the very occasional serving of vegetables and crystal containers of fine chocolates along with plentiful milk shakes, mugs of cocoa and glasses of soda. Lydia ate continuously, never getting full and always having room for something else.

Because the Queen had declared Lydia’s gain as the most important thing, the Princess had been excused her normal routine of riding lessons, etiquette classes and dance practice. All of her now plentiful spare time was used reading, at first in the library and then, once Queen Illian had declared that walk a waste of calories, in her room. As such, the formerly active girl was leading a life of pure inactivity, which was having predictable results when combined with her constant snacking.

Lydia had never been muscular like her stepmother, but she had been slender and in shape from her forced workouts and natural aversion to overeating. Before pigging out, the Princess had been a natural beauty: Her stomach was washboard flat, her dancer’s legs were trim and shapely and her small butt was perky and high, despite her naturally wide hips. Red gold hair framed a face with high cheek bones, a straight nose, green eyes and full lips. Lydia’s only low point were her breasts, which were only A cups.

But that lean body was rapidly changing. An utter lack of physical activity had stolen the definition from her thighs, leaving her legs soft and pinch able even before weight started to settle on them. A month later and her shapely dancers legs had lost all trace of their former firmness, growing thick and round. Likewise was her butt, which quickly lost its former perk and started to sag downwards. As her ass lowered it broadened, growing into a worthy match for her wide hips.

Lydia’s already wide hips attracted fat like moths to a flame. Each mouthful of candy increased their width and each buttered biscuit made them even softer. Soft love handles sprouted atop her growing hips, joining them together with her belly. A month earlier, Illian had failed to find a spare ounce of flesh on Lydia’s stomach, but now this was not the case.

Once flat and waspish, Lydia’s waist had grown thick and wide. A pooch was visible at the right angle a week after her diet started, once her early food babies had gone down. Now it was a permanent starter belly, constantly present with a small, delicate bulge. It did not yet pool into a gut, but this was weeks away at her current rate of gain.

Most happily for the Princess was the growth of her breasts, having blossomed into full B cups. The expanding boobs now strained the fabric of her push up bra, softly quivering at the top. Her bra cut into the yielding flesh of her back and shoulders, more evidence of her overall growth. Up top, Lydia’s face had broadened and softened, losing its firm lines rapidly. A cherubic roundness coated her once high cheek bones, while a soft collection of adipose beneath her once clean jawline hinted at a growing second chin.

The growing Princess yawned and stretched her out of shape body, almost falling asleep. Where once Lydia could adroitly focus on a book all day, her poor diet was giving her frequent spells of tiredness (interspersed with occasional sugar highs). Lydia responded to this with frequent cat naps, lounging in the sunbeams coming through her window. One of these frequent naps was almost upon her now, the slightly flabby girl turning on her side and putting a hand across her toneless belly.

“Princess?” Asked her maid, coming back through the door bearing a silver platter covered with an equally expensive lid in one hand while holding an expensive collection of clothes over her other arm.

“Urrr...wah?” Muttered Lydia, snapping out of a dream and sitting up, a small roll forming on her increasingly doughy torso as she did.

“I stopped at the royal Gnome tailor, they’ve let out some of your dresses while new ones are made, “ explained the maid, setting the clothes out on a chair, “I’ve also brought you the cookies you’ve ordered. The cooks added extra butter like you prefer.”

“Oh good,” said Lydia, stretching out her arms, “I was getting famished.”

With a rather unladylike grunt the Princess stood, her toneless legs finding getting up a growing effort. Munching a cookie she made her way over to the dresses, staring down at them. Each was a garment shed had for years and each had proven unbutton able or unzip able that morn (well closer to noon really). They had been growing steadily more snug the past month, but now not a single garment bar Lydia’s underwear fit. Speaking of, those panties were skin tight around her larger rear and had small rips over the tightest parts of her hips.

“Help me with these please,” commanded Lydia, not deigning to pick them up herself. Once the Princess had done everything herself, but upon being appointed a maid had found it easier and easier to delegate. Although she wasn’t paying attention, Lydia was becoming lazier and lazier as her waist line grew out. The few times this thought came to mind, she explained it away as fitting for a future Empress.

“Of course,” said her maid Sarah, obligingly selecting a top from the clothes pile.

No commoner was permitted to wait upon the Princess, so Sarah was a counts second daughter. The red head, only a year older than her mistress, had been a lazy girl herself before her mother had sent her to court, despairing of the girl getting a man with an increasingly dumpy figure. Always fond of sweets, Sarah had bordered 200 lbs when she had first become Lydia’s maid, most of it concentrated in her broad gut and flabby thighs.

As Sarah slid the still tight shirt over Lydia’s soft shoulders, she felt her own black uniform flutter across her waist. While one might think that catering treats to a girl determined to turn herself into a grade A Heifer would make the already fat and lazy Sarah even fatter, the opposite was happening.

Hauling huge, heavy trays up and down three flights of stairs all day was burning fat off of at a break neck pace. The chubby red head was shrinking like an ice cube in the desert, already having shed twenty pounds of lazy fat. Her dress hung loose at the waist and her once marbled thighs were growing leaner.

Once a glutton herself, watching her lean mistress visibly balloon had put off Sarah’s formerly prodigious appetite. It didn’t help that Lydia’s constant demands made Sarah miss lunch and dinner most days. Thankfully though, the Princess rarely dragged herself out of bed before 11 anymore, giving her over worked maid enough time for a small repast.

Sarah quickly fit a white blouse over Lydia’s torso. Despite being let out, the garment was obviously snug. Small rolls of fat formed where the sleeves pinched her soft arms, while there were several inches of soft, tanned flesh in between the shirt’s edge and Lydia’s panties. The growing royal breasts stretched out the top, hinting at more cleavage than the Princess yet possessed, tight enough that her black bra was visible.

“Are you sure this was let out?” asked Lydia, feeling the garment pinch her in several places

‘the gnome tailor did everything he could,” explained the Maid, “he said there was no more fabric let out.”

‘then try the skirt,” ordered Lydia, “I need to go speak to my step mother about the wedding soon and can’t parade around in my underwear can I? This ass is for Emperor Basil’s view alone.”

“Of course Princess,” said Sarah, ignoring the implied insult as she bent down and pulled the skirt around Lydia’s soft hips and began zipping it up. Or tried to, “Um… “

“What’s the problem?” said Lydia, a tad wobbly on her legs as Sarah, increasingly strong from lifting her trays all day, tugged at her skirt, nearly jerking her off balance.

“Its getting stuck on your thighs,” explained the maid, exasperated that the garment obviously failed to fit.

‘Let me see that!” snapped Lydia, “it can’t be that tight!”

The Princess” soft hands jerked at her zipper, failing to move it an inch. She’d never had a strong upper body, but a month of gluttonous leisure had made her arms weak as a newborn kitten’s. Lydia jumped up and down several times determined to pull up the skirt, her body quivering each time she landed. Soon her rounder face grew red and beads of perspiration sprouted across her brow.
‘This is impossible…” gasped Lydia, falling back onto her bed, her belly shaking. Her shirt had ridden up some more, exposing a thick band of belly fat and love handles, a definite muffin top.

‘Shall I take it off your highness?” asked Sarah, who thought that the skirt would have fit with enough effort.

“Of course,” sighed the Princess, not even moving as Sarah gently unzipped the garment, “ugh I”m covered in sweat. Draw me a bath if you would. With bubbles and make it very hot.”

“As you wish Princess,” agreed the maid, “what should I tell your mother, she is waiting on you correct?”

“Oh, I’ll talk to Illian as soon as I”m done,” said the Princess, not moving an inch. Sweat still glistened on her brow and body, darkening her shirt.

“Would you like a beverage to cool off first?” asked Sarah, wishing to forestall any further requests.

“Oh, how about bottle or two of that Imperial Soda?” requested the Princess, eager for a sugary drink.

Half an hour later found Lydia lounging in a large bronze bath tub, the bubbles up to her chin. Her right hand gripped a half empty soda bottle (her third), frequently tipping the beverage to her red lips. A fresh book sat on the side table, but the princess had yet to open it. Sarah had selected it at random from the library’s dusty stacks and its title was in some foreign language. Lydia couldn’t decipher it, but the title ‘liber Obesus” seemed rather alluring to her for some reason.

Meanwhile her left wandered under the bubbles, absent mindedly pinching and tugging at her growing body. Where once there hadn’t been an ounce of excess flesh, now there were plenty of inches to pinch. For a moment she played with her belly fat, idly feeling the soft bulge where there had only been firmness a month ago before reaching further and fondling her privates.

“Ummmm….” Moaned the princess, her cheeks blushing with pleasure as joy spread up through her body. Thoughts of her betrothed flickered through her mind, only increasing her arousal. Quickly, Lydia placed her soda to the side. Her now free hand pinched her nipples, moving from one growing breast to the other in rapid succession.

“Oh Goddess… Oh Goddess… Oh Goddess…” she panted, before the orgasm hit her hard. Lydia moaned and sighed, her body convulsing amidst the sloshing tub before she settled back, smiling dreamily. After several minutes of idly floating, the Princess felt a small rumble in her tummy.

‘Sarah… another tray of cookies please,” the girl muttered, ringing her bell.

‘So making yourself happy?” asked an imperious voice.

Lydia’s eyes snapped open to see her stepmother standing before her. Illian’s posture was the same as it had been a month ago, legs askew with her hands on her hips. However, the Queen cut a very different figure than she had.

It was inarguable that the Princess had put on a few since her massive change in diet, twenty four of them as a matter of fact. Laziness, constant snacking and being waited on hand and foot had overcome her athletic figure and youthful metabolism. But while that amount was fairly impressive for such a short time, it paled in comparison to what had happened to Illian.

For the first week of her step daughter’s diet, Illian had been confined almost completely to her bed chamber. A full crock of whipped cream a day at breakfast made her feel violently ill, although she never actually threw up once she did was bedridden. When her body had finally grown use to such high calorie treatment, the Queen found her washboard abs gone.

Seven days of lethargy had stolen a lot of hard won muscle tone and added a good deal of puffiness to the still skinny woman. Even if her step mother had restarted her exercise and diet program right then and there, Lydia was still sure the Queen would have put on a few pounds.

However, it was obvious that Illian had been eating more than a crock of cream a day since then, without moving a finger. The Queen had always favored tight dresses, but now her purple miniskirt was stretched nearly translucent by the wobbly dome of her belly. Her washboard abs were a thing of memory, replaced with large pot belly and jiggly lovehandles.

Always large and well displayed breasts had swollen out while losing much of their perk, growing increasingly saggy. Long, slim runners legs had lost all of their hard won tone, the thighs even visibly touching at their plump tops where they peeked out beneath the now far too short skirt. The cause of all this expansion was evident on the Queen’s cheeks, which had graduated into full on jowls behind the chocolate stains.

“I”m working myself to the bone preparing your wedding,” lectured the queen, stuffing another chocolate eclair into her mouth, “and request your mere presence to decide on a dress. Instead of showing up like a polite daughter, you make me wait for an hour while you touch yourself!”

“I”m sorry Illian, but coming down this evening would have been impossible,” Lydia explained, “I’ve been having some clothing difficulty…”

“I see,” said Illian, “fattening up nicely are you? Well then girl, stand up and show me!”

“I”m sorry, what?”

“Come on, I want to see how chubby you’ve gotten. Don’t be embarrassed girl, I don’t have anything that you don’t.”

Lydia swallowed a retort that Illian looked to have a good 20 lbs worth of things she didn’t yet possess and stood. Soon Illian was bending awkwardly over the tub, fat gut and heavy boobs making her angle awkward. Ignoring this, the Queen’s thicker fingers pinched and squeezed at Lydia’s body. For her part, the Princess took the probing well, long used to Illian searching for signs of weight gain.

“My my, you are ripening up quickly now aren’t you?” asked the Queen, “How are you gaining so quickly?”

“Umm….” Lydia began, realization slowly dawning that Illian either had no idea of her own weight gain or was in complete denial of it ,”well I just snack all day and don’t exercise.”

“Amazing,” said the Queen, “I should be careful I suppose, I don’t want to lose this figure after all. I’ve been awful busy arranging everything lately and have barely had time to work out. I”m lucky I”m so strong disciplined, otherwise I’d be snacking on the catering samples all the time like my ladies in waiting. Those girls would have blimped out into such pigs if I wasn’t there to snatch the food out of their hands. They have no idea where it would go if they ate it.”

Taking in her step-mother’s fat arms and thunder thighs, Lydia was quite certain where that food was going went. The greedy queen had at least twenty pounds on the Princess” thickening figure, meaning Illian had put on forty pounds in a month. Such a rate of growth should be near impossible, but given that the Queen was apparently eating for herself and her three ladies in waiting easily believable.

““Now come,” demanded Illian, “you need to choose a dress so the gnome tailors can get to work on making one with an elastic waist. We can’t all laze around here all day eating like you.”

With that the Queen turned, giving Lydia a full view of her backside. Cellulite cratered the once smooth cheeks, which had grown so much that the back of the Queen’s overstrained dress showed almost her whole ass off. Illian’s cheeky lace panties were swallowed by her wobbling ass, forming an impromptu thong.

The cottage cheese coated derriere had fallen far from its formerly lofty perch, widening considerably on its downward journey. Fat and wide, it bounced and wobbled freely with every step, still jutting outwards due to the heels Illian wore.

“Aren’t you coming?” snapped Illian, turning side ways and giving Lydia a profile shot of her plump body, ‘lazy girl, some of us are working our ass off for this party!”

The Princess managed to hold in her laughter until the Queen had left the room.

Last edited by Britt Reid; 06-04-2014 at 07:52 PM.
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Old 06-01-2014, 01:32 PM   #33
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Chapter 24: Dwarves

The text continues in Emperor Basil’s hand:

I set out from the Capitol with my entourage barely a day after meeting with Ashlay, having ordered a palace mage to send a message of approval ahead to the dwarves. With me I took my customary company of the Imperial Guard, each of the female troopers having runes to counter gluttony charms tattooed to their persons, something that had become necessary for any women near me. Three civilians also came along: two mages so I could stay in contact with the Capitol and of course Ashlay.

The former-assassin was temporarily defying expectations and was starting to noticeably slim down. Granted, Ashlay was still a far cry from her formerly lithe self: her legs were thick and round, her paunch was a permanent slope of soft flesh and once steely buns were still soft and doughy. However, the spy mistress was also down nearly eighty pounds from here heaviest, while she was still meaty she was no longer what I would call fat. At 160 lbs, twenty less than most women of her income range, there were hints of a waist alongside a rear end that was starting to perk up once again. Ashlay was actually starting to look like she had once been athletic before letting go, instead of being a lifelong creampuff.

Mentally, the woman was so close to being skinny she could taste it. It didn’t take someone who knew her as well as I to notice that she was barely touching food and was exercising at every road side inn or military post we stopped at. Given my well known tastes in women I was a tad sad to see Ashlay shrinking, but I tempered this knowledge. Firstly, while she no longer needed to be fit, I could tell that Ashlay desperately missed the strength and agility of her former body. Going from a dangerous assassin girl who could positively float on roof tops and out fight a dozen men to a waddling office woman who looked like she would have trouble climbing out of her chair and could only be dangerous to a box of doughnuts had been quite a psychological blow to her.

Secondly, I was about to get married and thus the temptation offered by my friend’s still rather round butt would shortly be out of range. Despite an obvious attraction and compatibility between us, neither of us had ever acted on our feelings. When we first met I was busy with Yvarra and afterwards Ashlay was intimidated by the responsibility I had placed on her and the lofty heights of my own position. Her discomfort with her body following her weight gain was another problem, obviously Ashlay didn’t want to be just another fat girl on my list.

Lastly was my own confidence that my intelligence chief was born to be a fatty. It was true that when she was skinny Ashlay seemed a natural athlete and the last person anyone would think of as fat. But the slight pooch that had sprouted across her previously flawless abs during the aftermath of the Plombay Conquest had convinced me otherwise.

Whenever Ashlay was relaxed and comfortable with herself was when the pounds came on, the inner voice that told her she had to stay skinny fading. Even had the ex-assassin not been sent on her fateful and fattening mission against the Caliph, her thinness was only temporary. Whenever she was getting laid regularly, Ashlay threw diet to the wind and exercise to the curb. Thus, I was eager to see how her month at the Dwarven city of Brufbar, getting ploughed daily and surrounded by festivities, would treat Ashlay’s already ample waist line.

Of course, this was not the only reason I was looking forwards to see the Dwarve (aside from fetching the hammer Wyrmdring. For several centuries the Dwarves had been a client-nation of the Empire, producing steel and guarding our northern border in exchange for food, for no dwarf enjoys farming. Thus, Underking Schwarz controlled a realm of a half dozen major cities, each of them a hot bed of smithies, mines and foundries. Much of the Empire’s military might was predetermined by relations with the dwarves, our most powerful yet least seen ethnic group. While it was true there was a decent sized Dwarf neighborhood in the Capitol, boasting the city’s best beer and blacksmiths, the bearded folk tended to stay in their own cities save for a few young ones afflicted with gold-lust who sought out careers as mercenaries in the Imperial Army. Because of this, no Emperor had ever visited them and the Dwarves had few ties to the Empire. I was eager to improve the situation.

Only a few weeks of travel separated the Imperial Capitol and the Dwarves largest city, so excellent had my updated system of roads proved. Ashlay somehow kept to her exercise regimen the entire time, the only person besides me that is. Because of this, her traveling clothes had started to droop loosely when we arrived before the city’s great gates. Quickly we were ushered inside, I and the higher ranked members of the party being given private rooms in the King’s Quarter while the cavalry were put into their own barracks.

Already feasting had been going on for a day, despite the wedding not being until the next morning. We were to be formerly introduced that night to the Dwarf royal family, so I ordered everyone to prepare themselves. I washed quickly in cold water, a necessity given the several curvaceous women in my bodyguard and my own lack of sex due to my betrothal, and was clean in moments. However, it seems that even an Emperor must wait on women to get ready and I found myself spending several boring minutes in the common room, amusing myself by tapping a finger against my silvered scale mail.

Luckily I did not have to wait long before Helmwurst found me. Clad in the customary plate mail, the Dwarf was tall for his breed, of a height with the short Ashlay, and nearly as broad in his shoulders.. He was also young, being reckoned just out of his adolescence at fifty.

Nevertheless, the Prince had a notable reputation for wildness, ranging from mild acts of rebellion such as only having a short beard to severe crimes like sleeping with an elven rangeress and paying her actual gold for the experience. Despite all this, Helmwurst had managed to bring in great amounts of gold to his family’s vaults by leading a mercenary party with his more esteemed brother.

"So you must be Basil, else I’ve gotten shorter,” said the Dwarf, trying to crush my hand in a vice like grip. Fortunately for me, while Dwarves are stronger than humans half of my blood was Amazonian. I matched him ounce for ounce.

“Aha, a strong one for a tall-boy!” Helmwurst said, “I”m glad we’ve sworn fealty to one with spirit.”

“I thought we would not be formally introduced until later,” I asked.

“Pox on the traditions and rules,” spat the dwarf onto the surely priceless carpet, “men live by our word not court etiquette. If you”re here, that means you brought the lass, the one we call Crushvag.”

I knew enough dwarfish to make out what the term meant. I’ll save its meaning, but it told me the Dwarves had a very odd idea about how Ashlay had killed the last Caliph.

“Ashlay is readying herself,” I told him, ‘she’s very eager to meet you.”

“As I am eager to meet her. I’ve killed a manticore with my bare hands before, but to survive thirty nights with the Crushvag will bring me glory that no dwarf has ever seen!”

At that point the door to one of the girl’s rooms opened. Rather than Ashlay it was our two mages, Carmella and her apprentice Elena. Both of the women were beauties, although I had to naturally prefer Carmella.

The senior mage had been temporarily detached from her archeological dig in the elven ruins and was looking more ravishing than ever. Her flawless skin and long, bouncy hair were still the same shade of golden brown, both nicely offset by a dress of gold.

The dress was short and perfectly cut: proudly displaying her long shapely legs, clinging tightly to her hourglass mid section and dipping low to show large breasts. Her curvy figure was a bit rounder as well, the mage’s bigger hips, bouncier breasts and slightly thicker waist evidence that she hadn’t done much digging by hand.

To me, Carmella looked especially drool worthy alongside Elena, although the younger apprentice was pretty in her own right. A young mage just out of the Arcane Academy, Elena’s figure would have been all the rage several years ago. Tall and thin, her only fat was on her small breasts, which were still proudly displayed by her tight, sky blue dress.

Elena’s face was lean and angular, while her long pale blonde hair was nearly the same color as her fair skin. If I had thrown a bucket of water on her, Elena might have weighed 110 lbs, making her one of the smallest civilian women I had seen in a while.

"She’s much smaller than I thought,” mused Helmwurst as he looked at Elena, “but then she has been travelling. A month in my mother’s kitchens will leave her as big as the legends say though.”

“I”m… sorry?” asked Elena, more than a little confused.

"Don’t worry there girlie,” assured the Dwarf, "ten loafs of dwarven warbread a day and you’ll never have to worry about getting up again. We’ll soon have you back to your obese glory, the same with the one behind her. I’d give you another Wyrmdring for her!”

Elena didn’t say anything besides somewhat gagging a few times, although Carmella tittered a bit behind her.

"That’s not Ashlay,” I told him, hearing the door open behind us, "This is.”

Ashlay was dressed to kill, figuratively rather than literally this time. Her soft, shapely hips were barely contained within a crimson mini-dress, which didn’t hide an inch of her legs. High heels gave a false sense of length to her plump limbs, all while making the Spy-Mistress” large rear stick out more.

Ashlay’s always huge and rather bouncy ass strained against the fabric, threatening to burst it at any second. A tiny, decorative black belt encircled her paunchy waist, buckled just loose enough that her chub wouldn’t muffin top around it. Sleeveless and strapless, the dress dipped low to show off her still DD cup breasts, her chest untouched by the recent weight loss.

“I”m sorry,” the ex-assassin said as Helmwurst starred at her speechlessly, "Ddid I miss something?”

( Old wizard smokes pipe full of "herb")

The legends of the dwarves are shrouded in rock. Not shrouded in mystery. Rock. For you see the dwarven race was bourne from earth and to earth they may return someday. But they were here before men. Thousands of years before. Possibly and most likely tens of thousands.

They had fire before us. Not discovered through trees and the elemental force of lighting but of earth. Deep dwarven cities were warmed by the liquid heart of this world.

As were their ovens. Ovens that have baked dishes that mankind has still never seen, harvested from lichens and gems that were still living, not the dead things that they take up to trade with us.

Only they know how the juice from a sapphire feels as its liquid heat burns down ones throat....aye, they’ve been baking for hundreds of years more than us.

I've heard tales of their women too. Not the dwarves from neighboring Krynn of course. The first dwarves had one love and only one. The mountain. The earth spirits were their first loves and each dwarf holds some of that love within them.

and of course lad. Mountains are gigantic. And heavy.

Emendation by Xandercroft: Dwarves have always been fond of ale. One of their brews was once made of actual poppies before they eventually figured out the addictive properties of what turned out to be a liquid opium. But they are addictive enough on their own, each carefully brewed cask aged in custom carved nices. Their other brews can be aged for thousands of years.

The dwarven constitution however is more than up to the challenge of the inebriating qualities of their most popular liquids. Most dwarve races prefer vintages that would blind most humans permanently. Skullsplitter was once thought be be a legendary weapon and was quested after by hundreds before eventually recovered from Smaugs lair...and that turned out to be a single cask of legendary quality mead. Unfortunately most of it had eaten through the cask and and the stone beneath it.

One could say that a hobby of the dwarves would be to see how drunk they can convince the other races to become

Last edited by Britt Reid; 06-04-2014 at 07:39 PM.
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Old 06-01-2014, 01:32 PM   #34
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Chapter 25: The Spy Who Gorged

The Great Hall of the Dwarves was a marble chamber large enough to hold a dozen war galleys. Hordes of dwarves thronged between the great pillars, making a raucous dirge as they gabble red and feasted. Vast fires with spitted boars had been set up amongst the oaken tables, as had huge kegs of ale.

It was hot inside the huge room, even though clever vents whisked away the smoke, and Ashlay felt sweat glisten on her body, darkening the red fabric stretched about her belly. Aside from the heat was the pressure on her hips, her soft buns pressed tightly into the tight confines of a dwarf carved chair.

Not surprisingly, the wedding ceremony had been short for the dwarves were known as a pragmatic race. Vows had been said quickly between Helmwursts brother and the bride, a woman slightly shorter than Ashlay and only a bit narrower in the middle. After that the mob of dwarves had flooded into the hall eagerly awaiting the feast.

Trying to cool herself, the spy took a deep drought of ale, letting it join the pint already sloshing around inside her. She had never been a big drinker and was already feeling tipsy. This wasn’t helped by Helmwursts placing a hand on her still plump thigh and giving her a squeeze. The dwarf had been flirting with her all night, constantly complementing everything he could from the size of her breasts to the breadth of her hips and even the still present bulge of her belly.

Usually, Ashlay would have been offended but after months out of the dating scene she found the attention flattering. She was even surprised to blush when her paunch was complimented and felt herself grow wet. Helmwursts may have only been an inch taller than her, but his muscles stood out like they were carved from the mountain and the thought of his huge mustache tickling her clit made Ashlay shiver.

Distracted by carnal thoughts, Ashlay didn’t think that the beers she was guzzling were several hundred calories each. In fact her stomach used the distraction to convince her hands to deliver half a dozen rolls, dripping with honey and butter into her all to eager mouth. Unbeknownst to her, each roll was a piece of dwarves battle bread able to keep a warrior fighting all day. Ashlay had consumed enough calories to keep her going for a week in minutes.

“A bit of a strange taste these rolls have,” the spy said, her diet forgotten.

“Not bad at all though,” agreed Carmella, the Mage munching on her third. Her carefully balanced diet plan urged her to avoid carbs, but as it was a special occasion she splurged. The once strict Mage had been doing that a lot the past couple months, as a result her waspish waste was thickening, her figure’s perfect hour glass shape vanishing as sand plugged the middle. Tan fingers tugged fruitlessly at the middle of her dress, trying to find slack where none existed.

“Dont fill up on the bread, “ advised Helmwurst, nonetheless refilling Ashlays stein, “it will ruin your appetite for real food.”

“Please I’ve been dieting for years now, “ declared Ashlay, “ I could eat like this for a month and not get full.”

“Could you now?” asked Helmwurst, the gleam in his eye covered by the small glow of a spell as Carmella magically let her dress out an extra inch.

“Ashlay was known to have the largest appetite in the entire Assassins order,” said Basil. The Emperors plate was bare, but he hadn’t eaten a bite. somehow everything had had somehow contrived to move to either Carmella or her apprentice Elena’s plate.

The thickening Brunette barely noticed as she let herself go, stuffing herself with gusto now that her dress was looser, but the pale blonde was near catatonic. Elena slouched backwards, hands on the food baby that had erupted across her normally flat stomach after just two of the rolls and a handful of fried appetizers.

“Please, that was a one time deal,” proclaimed Ashlay, in between the third and fourth rib of a rack recently placed before her by a waiter, “I”m naturally fit as a fiddle. I’ve just had some problems interrupting me loosing this weight.”

Quite a few more “problems” came up during the night. Ashlay ate and ate as Helmwurst continued praising her looks and feeling up her leg. Her inhibitions slipped as libido, appetite and alcohol worked away at her brain. Months of pent up hunger let rip as the spy mistress greedily consumed enough food for an entire squad: racks of boar ribs, slabs of bacon, platters of fried onions, another five battle rolls and pint after pint of foaming beer.

By midnight, Ashlay’s tight red dress was stretched taut across her swollen gut, riding upwards and exposing her lacy underwear. Her body were also wedged tight in the chair, the stuffing having left her swollen into her seat.

Normally composed and calm, one of her hands was stuck down Helmwurst’s pants, grimly trying to figure out how to open the dwarf’s belt through a haze of alcohol. Drunk and horny, she was still somehow hungry and was munching on another roll with her left hand. When Helmwurst decided to take things up to his bedchambers, it took both the Dwarf and Basil’s prodigious strength to pop Ashlay out of her seat.

“Does she always eat like that?” asked Elena of her mistress as the spy was led away. The Junior Mage felt terrible from having to eat so much and the display of gluttony put on by both spy and senior mage seemed enough to turn her off food for life.

“Well it is a special occasion,” explained Carmella, in the midst of letting her dress out for the third time. With a faint glow the fabric about her stuffed middle expanded, the swollen belly inside surging outwards into a more comfortable slump.

“Ooohhh that’s better,” said the senior mage, patting her full belly lightly, ‘she has been dieting for a while. Poor thing, she used to be thin as a rail before she blew up. And she worked so hard to slim back down only to eat like a pig tonight. Let her figure be a lesson to you Elena, let yourself go once and you’ll never get a handle on yourself again.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” agreed the junior mage, casting a cynical blue eye on the swollen belly of her senior, “now I think I”m for bed my lady.”

“Oh they haven’t even brought out dessert yet,” said Carmella, “and I hear that the dwarven chefs have the best crème brule.”

“What about not letting myself go?”

“Please it’s a special occasion,” Carmella explained hypocritically as she spooned herself a heaping spoon of custard, “now open wide.”

Last edited by Britt Reid; 06-04-2014 at 07:44 PM.
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Old 06-04-2014, 07:46 PM   #35
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Britt Reid can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokesBritt Reid can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes

As promised, yet more chapters to this epic.
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Old 10-24-2014, 06:46 AM   #36
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Would love to see more of this story.
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Old 10-24-2014, 09:10 AM   #37
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Me too! It was so great!
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Old 10-25-2014, 11:53 PM   #38
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Great story
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Old 11-10-2014, 02:36 PM   #39
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Sulla has said some nice things

At some point I need To update this once I figure out where I was going.
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