BBW The Invention of Ice Cream (~BBW, SSBBW, ~XWG, Stuffing, Gluttony)

Discussion in 'Recent Additions' started by Benny Mon, Nov 20, 2018.

  1. Nov 20, 2018 #1

    Benny Mon

    Benny Mon

    Benny Mon

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    This is a short sequel to my story And Eat It, Too, which is summarized in two paragraphs here:

    www.deviantart.com/ophion8118/…

    If you want to read the whole thing, though, you can start with the Prologue, found here on Dims or at this link on DA:

    www.deviantart.com/ophion8118/…

    A final note: “stone”as used in this story is equivalent to about five pounds, NOT the 14 pounds of the British system.


    ~~~

    From the Proconsul Hovanor to the Viceregent Vatarmet, this 32nd day of Miyaz in the year 484

    I write you at the beginning of my first official visit to Jabel, this remote, mountainous quarter of the kingdom of Lajjar with which your Viceregency has had so little contact. I arrived just days ago and plan to spend the season here, seeking to knit ties with the local nobility and deepen our knowledge of the outer reaches of Lajjar. My every action furthers your edict that Geta’s stewardship of this land can only be effective if we know every corner of it, to hold it securely in our care. The Lajjari will cease to call us an empire when we come to know them truly, and they us.

    My journey from the capital city of Qala took me and my small caravan almost due north. The mountains only grew larger as we went, and we saw them long before we even entered the foothills. It was nine full days until we arrived at the Haqqal estate, which sits near the southern boundary of this rocky district. With good reason: what little agriculture is in these hills takes place where the soil is still somewhat fertile. As one works one’s way deeper into the foothills and up into the mountains, farming gives way to husbandry, mostly of sheep and goats. Jabel is thus a poor and rugged region, experiencing little of the bounty that characterizes nearly every other acre of Lajjar.

    That very poverty is evident in the Haqqal estate and in the family that occupies it. Put from your mind the image of the Ladies of Qala and the wealthy estates that encircle it, with their corpulent bodies, their wide legs and burgeoning bosoms and bellies. The women of Jabel are meager and emaciated by comparison; the same is even true of the Lady of the land, Hezela Haqqal. Admittedly “meager” is an exaggeration, as there is a pleasant roundness to her cheeks and to her arms, a curve to her hips as they spread from the slight narrowing of her waist. In short, she hardly look like a commoner, but she is the envy of none of her peers throughout the realm.

    I write all this, Viceregent, not to pass undue judgment on the poor woman but to communicate faithfully and honestly the circumstances of her life. Indeed, she is to be pitied: a native daughter of Jabel and married to Lord Haqqal in her youth, she was widowed when her Lord perished (may the Earth receive him in peace) in the fight against the thief Sadesh over a year ago. Her husband was the last in the line of Haqqal--there wasn’t even a single cousin with a claim to be found--and so the estate has passed to her. I confess, this loophole that allows the rule of women is a Lajjari practice to which I have had difficulty reconciling myself. Moreover, she has failed to take a new husband in the meantime, perhaps out of grief, perhaps because even the most desperate social climber blanches at the thought of living out his days in Jabel.

    The Lady Hezela is, to be sure, a gracious host who welcomed us into her home with warmth and generosity, which is more than most Getayin proconsuls can say in their tours of the outlying lands. The Jabelis seem willing to share what little they have and to treat us like kin. Even so, I was unnerved when our welcome meal was introduced by the estate’s Chef, a woman! And a woman who appeared just as plump as the Lady of the land, perhaps even more so. Why Lady Hezela permits this insubordination I cannot say, but it goes without saying that a Chef more prosperous than her Lady is a Chef more prosperous than the land can bear.

    In conclusion, Viceregent, my first days in Jabel have confirmed the urgent need for the very project you have commanded and we have undertaken. It is imperative that we establish strong bonds between Qala and the exterior, the better to stabilize and regulate Geta’s stewardship of this land, and the better to secure its cooperation in finding and apprehending the thief Sadesh.

    I will write you again once the month is out. I remain steadfast in my service to you and pray for your good fortune and success in this strange land we hold in our care.
     
  2. Nov 21, 2018 #2

    Benny Mon

    Benny Mon

    Benny Mon

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    From the Proconsul Hovanor to the Viceregent Vatarmet, this 4th day of Ginivat in the year 484

    Viceregent, it may be that I was too harsh in my judgment of Jabel in my first letter to you. This land is poor in soil, yes, but it is rich in fortitude and ingenuity. For the past several weeks, Lady Hezela has led me through the foothills and the lower mountains, introducing me to farmers and shepherds and a small number of merchants. The Jabelis are strong and hard-working, hardly envious of the wealth of other districts but instead proud of their homeland. Most would be unwilling to relocate to richer soil even if they had the chance! These are rare qualities among a people who are so often confused and weak, jealous and prone to civil war. Then again, it is a testament to the Jabelis that they were resolutely against Sadesh from the beginning. Haqqal was among the first to join Hatha’s ranks.

    In these weeks of travel I have better acquainted myself with the Lady Hezela, and she is a curious woman indeed. She is stronger than I first thought at first, candid and talkative, though nervous. She seems to have subordinated her grief to an energetic pursuit of her land’s well-being, though the grief remains. And while she cannot (forgive the expression) tell the difference between the front and rear ends of a goat, she spends a tremendous amount of time with the local notables (such as they are), listening to their grievances and requests. She knows intimately their hopes and fears, and they trust her. I dare say we ate better in the mean homes of shepherds and fishermen than we did at the Haqqal estate. The generosity of this people knows no bounds. The gravied lamb, marbled breads, fruit conserves, and the dozens of dishes they seem to make out of goatsmilk: all are incredible, and we would do well to import some of these dishes to Qala, perhaps even back to Geta.

    The most remarkable dish we had, in fact, was a delightful sort of frozen goatsmilk delicacy. Up in the mountains, a goatherd’s wife had managed to find a use for the ice and salt that are available year round to develop this wonderful treat. We watched her work: she would cook fatty milk in a pot until it reduced, adding fruit and seasonings to sweeten and flavor it before adding the ice and salt to congeal it into a sort of pliable, creamy solid. “Ice cream,” in fact, was what she quaintly called it.

    Lady Hezela could not eat her fill of this treat. Until this point in the trip, I had already concluded that her meager size came not from lack of appetite but lack of resources, as she heartily wolfed down the food offered her by the residents of the land. It was almost unbecoming a Lady, but she maintained control--until the ice cream. She drained this poor woman’s pantry of milk, forcing her to turn all of it into ice cream, gobbling down bowl after bowl. I cannot say what possessed her to indulge such gluttony: the ice cream was delicious, but this was something beyond normal appetite. Her belly, normally soft but rather flat, visibly strained her satin gown, and I swear to you she gained a stone this night alone, implausible though it may seem.

    It still wasn’t enough. She compelled this woman (Fel is her name) to relocate with her three children to the Haqqal estate to train the Chef to make ice cream and to run a small ice cream station out of the Kitchens. The woman had no choice but to comply, leaving her husband to mind their mountain abode on his own.

    I have dwelled on this night, Viceregent, so that you may understand fully the peculiarity of the woman who oversees this distant region. There is much I have yet to understand, and I fear I may need to stay well beyond the season to accomplish my task here. I will, as ever, keep you apprised.
     
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  3. Nov 23, 2018 #3

    js273

    js273

    js273

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    Great story so far! Can't wait for more!
     
  4. Nov 25, 2018 #4

    Benny Mon

    Benny Mon

    Benny Mon

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    Thank you—there’s more to come!
     
  5. Nov 26, 2018 #5

    Benny Mon

    Benny Mon

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    From the Proconsul Hovanor to the Viceregent Vatarmet, this 10th day of Nehas in the year 484

    It is now midsummer, and in the weeks since I last wrote the Lady Hezela has transformed Jabel into a bustling land, unrecognizable as its former self. Her appetite for ice cream is undiminished and if anything has grown since our tour of the district. As a result, she has ensured that she has an unlimited supply of the stuff. She has recruited former shepherds and fisherman to mine salt and ice from the mountains and transport it directly to the Haqqal estate, and Fel’s husband, in fact, sees her weekly because he leads one of these teams. Fel herself leads a small but growing team of Kitchen workers who are dedicated to producing ice cream from dawn till dusk, sometimes even later. She draws on an endless supply of goatsmilk, a combination of the herd the estate already had supplemented by goats that Lady Hezela bought from smallholders in the region. In short, the people and resources of all of Jabel churn slowly about the Haqqal estate to satisfy the remarkable appetites of this woman.

    At first, remarkably, the noble Lady was the sole recipient of all this labor, starting her day with a cup of ice cream, trying new flavors with her lunch, snacking on it throughout the day, downing massive quantities of it after dinner until all the fullness and sweetness caused her to crash and pass out for the night--only to awaken hungry for more at an early hour. (The summer heat makes the treat especially appealing.) This constant gorging had an effect on her body, rounding out her already chipmunk-like cheeks and building a wider layer of fat around her narrower jaw and her small mouth. Her whole body thickened in those first few weeks, making her just barely, but properly, fat, the way a Lady should be. At this time I would estimate she gained several more stone, putting her perhaps around 44 stone total.

    Eventually, though, the supply of ice cream grew even too much for her to handle alone, and news of it spread to nearby districts. Lords and Ladies from the nearest estates began traveling to Jabel and visiting the estate for the first time in their lives, to court the friendship of the local Lady and to taste this unknown treat, impossible to manufacture in warmer climes more distant from the mountains. Lady Hezela is also working--rightly, in my opinion--to make ice cream a noble prerogative, licit only for herself and her noble visitors. Apparently some of the salt and ice miners have been selling their products to nearby smallholders so that they might make their own ice cream. The Lady of Jabel sent her wardens to jail these traitors and accompany all caravans to and from the mountains so that this corruption spreads no further. I wish her the greatest success in protecting the integrity of this commerce.

    This industry in ice cream has, after all, become a great credit to the region, employing its poor masses and tapping wealth that they did not know they had. If this is the Lady Hezela’s way of dealing with her grief, so be it: because of this project, she may yet be the savior no one anticipated, and I am pleased to see the bonds she is tying with our allies in the nearby estates. We knew so little of Jabel before I came, but I think we can now confidently say that they will be our friends as long as we are in Lajjar. They have little to complain of now, and many new allies.
     
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  6. Nov 27, 2018 #6

    Benny Mon

    Benny Mon

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    From the Proconsul Hovanor to the Viceregent Vatarmet, this 42nd day of Nehas in the year 484

    Viceregent Vatarmet, I write to you in a state of dismay. My earlier faith in the Lady Hezela was misplaced, and the insatiable appetites caused by her unassuaged grief will be the ruin of this place. I let my optimism, a greed for my own success, blind me to disturbing trends unfolding right before my eyes.

    But allow me to explain. The situation began to decline not long after I last wrote you. The Lady Hezela indulged in a particularly gluttonous day, eschewing almost all of her regular meals for a steady stream of ice cream throughout the day. She downed two cups of it for breakfast, ignored reports from her wardens while she sampled new flavors throughout the morning, dunked bread into a honeyed variety for lunch. Her burgeoning cheeks became smeared with the stuff as the day went on, and the more she gorged on this sugary, milky treat the more she became dyspeptic and irritable. Disgustingly, she drizzled the stuff over a beautiful roast at dinner and then shoveled down cup after cup for dessert. She would clutch her belly and groan about her rising nausea, but it could not stop her: she kept ordering more from the Kitchen, even when her portly Chef, of all people, tried to dissuade her. Hours after sunset, she finally collapsed in sleep, and several wardens had to heave her body to her bed.

    This was not the worst of it. I could not sleep that night, and hours after midnight I crept down to the Kitchens to view the source of this sinful treat--only to find the Lady herself, apparently unable to sleep, half-naked, bulging buttocks and legs plopped on the floor, pouring a vat of the stuff into her mouth, hiccuping and burping and groaning in pain and pleasure, all while her exhausted staff slaved away making more of it. I have never seen poor Fel look so miserable. I ran off before anyone could see me, but the image was seared into my mind.

    Most days have not been this bad, Viceregent, but many come very, very close. After this fateful day, the Lady became increasingly irritable with her noble visitors, especially the unmarried Lords, and within weeks she began sending them home, and eventually barring the estate from all visitors. Instead of sharing her ice cream surplus with nearby regions, she shares it with the Kitchen staff. I don’t know what has caused this turnabout, but the Chef, and Fel, and the many girls who staff those chambers are growing plumper by the day, feasting as they are in this secret, womanly cabal. The land itself suffers: the Lady Hezela has so thoroughly commandeered land, livestock, and labor to produce her personal ice cream supply that basic agriculture goes untended, food is short, and people are starving. Some have gone so far as to do the unthinkable--to leave for a better life in another region--and even those who stay are increasingly abandoning the estate’s ice cream operations. The Lady has begun to recruit beggars from Qala, the worst scum, to continue to mine the necessary salt and ice, further imperiling the region.

    The Lady of a land, as you know, should be as abundant as the land itself--but no more. She must reflect the bounty of the earth, not steal from it. Though our crown princess is beyond our reach, I fear the spirit of Heskaya is yet over this land, corrupting Hezela’s mind and cultivating this heretical behavior. I have confronted her over this, but she barely listens to anyone anymore, consumed as she is in this frantic, gluttonous dulling of the pain of her grief.

    I must take more direct, more urgent action. I will keep you apprised.
     
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  7. Nov 29, 2018 #7

    Benny Mon

    Benny Mon

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    From the Lady Hezela Haqqal to the Viceregent Vatarmet, 20 days after the Fall Equinox of the 230th Year since our Isolation and the 2nd Year of our Occupation [Getayin scholars in Qala have calculated that this is the 33rd day of Meskerem in the year 484.]

    My dear Viceregent, it may seem to you rude that I have not written you directly before this date. I believed I had in your servant Hovanor an honest and faithful line to your seat in Qala, but recent events have proven me wrong. Many weeks ago, between the Summer Soltice and the Fall Equinox, Hovanor began to become agitated. He began to mistrust the brilliant innovation that is ice cream, to see it as some sort of evil substance that was corrupting my rule of this land, letting it fall to waste. Nothing could be further from the truth: ice cream has revitalized Jabel for the first time in its history, making us a place that mattered in Lajjar, not merely an afterthought. The people of this land have been put to work in ways they never imagined, and yes, some have found the work grueling or left for other regions because they fear tradition had been broken. Some dissatisfaction is, however, simply the price of progress, and the vast majority of Jabelis have remained and been content.

    I’m sure Hovanor has told you that I have also cut Jabel off from budding friendships in other districts, but this again is a distortion of the truth. At first the Lords and Ladies who came to visit me found ice cream a curiosity and a delight, but they soon realized its value and began scheming to seize control of the industry from me. Unmarried Lords especially worked to take my hand in marriage, the better to neutralize me and profit from the ice cream trade themselves. I would have none of it--ice cream is the birthright of Jabel, and I am its ruler. No one will take this prerogative from me.

    Hovanor would have told you, too, that I have given in to a dangerous gluttony. That my appetite for sweetness knows no bounds is true, but this is nothing new, and hardly a symptom of grief. I have always had a bottomless hunger for sweet things, and ice cream has finally allowed me to indulge it in ways that I never could before. I now weigh 60 stone, up 16 from midsummer, which I know may seem to you an impossibility. But ice cream allows the body to grow like nothing else. My cheeks are so soft and huge that they push my lips into a permanent purse, and my neck is padded with gentle rings of fat. My arms widen by the day and my hips and thighs thicken by the week, stretching my sleeves and forcing my tailors to sew new garments. Even my belly, never terribly impressive, now swells with a new softness and fullness, pulling and stretching at the fabric around it. I walk with a heavier step, and I live with the parallel consciousness that I am much larger than I have ever been, and still so much smaller than I intend to become. I am proud of this, yes, and for reasons Hovanor could never see. I am hardly distracted from my duties or out of control. This body symbolizes greater control than I have ever had, over myself and over this realm. I need let nothing now hold back my deepest, truest appetites.

    Your so-called proconsul could not come to terms with this, and in late summer he began to foment rebellion against me, scurrying about with the handful of soldiers and trying to turn my wardens and even some smallholders against me. It was all in vain--Jabelis are nothing if not loyal to Jabel--and I quickly had him imprisoned for this seditious activity. I am sure you will agree with me that his actions were entirely contrary to his mission, to knit closer ties between your Viceregency and the Lajjari nobility. An effort to uproot Jabel’s native ruler hardly seems consonant with Geta’s effort to hold our kingdom in its care while you search for Sadesh. I waste no time thinking of Sadesh and his foreign queen, and if you think challenging my rule will secure your occupation of our land, you are deeply mistaken.

    I will hold your little man in my care until you send someone to retrieve him and have him make amends for the insult he has dealt us. I will be waiting, and growing while I wait.
     
  8. Dec 5, 2018 #8

    Benny Mon

    Benny Mon

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    From Vatarmet, Viceregent of Lajjar, to General Mutawin, his Lieutenant in Qala, this 50th day of Hidar in the year 484

    I apologize for not writing you sooner with news. I know you doubted me when I left Qala to personally lead this expedition to restore order in Jabel, and I will admit that you were right about one thing: the weather has been horrendous. It took us two weeks to reach the Haqqal estate with all the snow, which only got worse as we approached. It was almost the middle of Hidar by the time we arrived, and I feared our campaign would face weeks of battle to wrest control of Jabel away from Hezela. (I will not refer to her with her noble title, which in my eyes she has forfeited.) But it was in this moment that I was most glad I had led the campaign myself: Hezela needed to know that not just Hovanor but I, and thus Geta itself, was not going to let her rebellion persist.

    The next day, however, the skies cleared, the wind failed, and we saw before us a bright, clear, unbroken plain of snow, rolling gently up into the foothills of the mountains. And, of course, the estate, whose manor bristled with wardens at the ramparts. It took days for us to take the manor, and every last warden fought to the death. I cannot understand why these men would fight for a lady who had so thoroughly abandoned their interests, but I can see that Hovanor did not exaggerate the depth of Jabeli loyalty to their homeland. Every last man fought to the death, and like soldiers, not like the petty law enforcement they were. It was a bitter victory.

    Predictably, Hezela was in the kitchens, and she was an even more horrific sight than Hovanor’s last letter had suggested. The bitch had had her servants drag a beautiful chair into the kitchens, and she was settled on it in the middle of the room, being hand-fed by the womanservants around her. The infamous ice cream was drizzled, soaked, and stuffed into a panoply of pastries, swirled with fruit and honey, frozen into solid, extra-cold little orbs, and all this food made its way directly into Hezela’s mouth. The woman herself had barely any clothes on--in the dead of winter, mind you--merely a tassled brassiere and a flowing skirt that barely reached her lower thighs. Yes, her thighs--they were something incomprehensible, massive things layered and rippled with fat and criss-crossed with stretch marks, vastly out of proportion to the rest of her body, and they merged in blobbing rolls with her hips and ass and love handles. Her calves were meaty, her arms flabby, her stomach round and jutting grossly out in front of her, and her cheeks were slathered in unseemly, jowly pads of fat.

    She just looked at me when we walked in, her eyes proud and languid, slurping down ice cream and claiming she already weighed 70 stone. I was disgusted by her ill-gotten corpulence and had her seized immediately, but she offered no resistance. She’s now languishing in her own jail, and we’ll bring her with us back to Qala as soon as the current snowstorm clears and we can find the road again. In the meantime, we freed poor Hovanor and his guard and set him up as Governor of Jabel, at least until we can find a permanent replacement. He looked thin after weeks in jail, but the man has always been on the skinny side. I doubt the northern life will do much to change that. There certainly will not be any more ice cream for anyone to consume; Hovanor will see to that.

    All is fixed, Mutawin--we will have no more trouble from Jabel for a long time to come--yet I remain unsettled. Hezela’s recklessness baffles me: she led her own land to ruin, challenged me so impertinently in her letter, and forced her wardens into a suicidal defense of her, for what--the rush of a sweet treat? Her claims of self-possession are laughable: hers was a path of self-destruction. I can see no cunning in her actions, merely the movement of a gluttonous spirit well beyond her ability to control. I doubt Hovanor’s speculation that it all stemmed from grief. I think the woman is merely insane, and her husband’s death finally loosed that insanity to do its work. Thank the earth Hovanor was here; we might have lost Jabel entirely had he not kept us apprised.

    And yet it makes me quake to think that trouble may be brewing in other corners of Lajjar without our knowledge. I hope the other proconsuls have continued their good work in the provinces, and I look forward to reading the letters that have arrived in my absence. Hovanor saw it right: the thief Sadesh and our stolen princess Heskaya may elude us yet, but their spirit still infects this land and spawns miniature Heskayas in its wake. Our first task is always to find the thief, but this ordeal has shown me that we must also stamp out his spirit from every corner of this land. If we do not, the entire enterprise will collapse beneath us.

    I hope to see you in Qala before the year is out. Wish me safe travels.
     
  9. Dec 5, 2018 #9

    Benny Mon

    Benny Mon

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    That's it! I hope you enjoyed this short return to Lajjar. I'm always interested in your feedback if you have any critiques.
     

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