BHM The Transformation of Midnight (Historical fantasy, BHM)

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Salacious Caitlin

Well-Known Member
Jan 29, 2020
Chapter 7.5 (I needed to add a bit. I think once I rewrite I might make Cass a bit meaner in the start... just so it's not so completely obvious where things are going. Let me know what you think.)

On one of these afternoons spent riding, I waited until we were away from any listening ears and asked Cass, “Has the lord never tried to do this to you?”

He raised a coppery eyebrow. “This?”

“You know what I mean. This.” I gestured at my rotundity.

“No. He has other uses for me, and my soldier’s training. Uses that preclude swelling up into a great mountain of blubber.”
“What are they?” I asked, remembering him holding me down while the Warden cleaned my wound, and trying to ignore the fact that ‘mountain of blubber’ coming from him did not sound as erotic as it did from de Valeriano, and that this was oddly uncomfortable, even disheartening.

“Nothing I can talk about.”

We rode on for a little ways, and then Cass, perhaps sensing my low mood, said, “Let us try something different. I’ll teach you to drive the carriage. It’s another thing I haven’t been forbidden to do, after all.”

Driving a horse-drawn carriage or coach is a skill that must be learned. I knew this, but when I was seated on the high driver’s seat, leaning over my own bloated stomach to hold the reins with the two bay hackneys stamping and snorting, I felt very aware of it indeed. Cass took my hands and showed me how to hold the leather lines and guide the pair – we were not using a whip, and indeed these eager creatures would scarcely need one – and we set off.

I had been an expert rider, centaur-like if I said so myself, and even now I was good at it, but I found the knowledge did not translate at all. Sensing an inexperienced hand on their reins, the hackneys set off at their fast high-stepping trot down the wide path that bisected the Warden’s gardens, ignoring my cries of “Whoa!” Cass was in fits of laughter at my side. Eventually, I got them stopped, and even to turn; but it was not easy. I could not imagine handling a set of four. My respect for the coachmen whom I had often held at gunpoint was growing by the moment.

We spent some hour or so at this, and my skill improved somewhat, but mostly we proceeded in bursts forward and sudden skidding to a halt, and neither of us could seem to stop laughing at my efforts. We had made most of a circuit around the gardens, and the horses were wanting to break into a canter, and I was trying to slow them while breathless with laughter, and Cass was saying, “Careful, careful, you’ll have us in the turnips,” when the Warden appeared on his big gray stallion, slapping his whip against his boot and with a face of thunder.

“Apologies, sir,” Cass said immediately.

I caught my breath. “Likewise, my lord. I wish we may not have offended you.”

“You will come back to the house now, as I have letters for you to write,” the Warden said to me. “And you, Cassinii, put these horses up. You both have work to do, and should not be racketing around like heedless boys.”

Of course, there was no particularly urgent work to be done. Perhaps he simply did not like me to laugh, if it was not him who caused it. Or perhaps he was concerned to forestall the possible slimming effects of exercise in the fresh air. Whatever the case, I followed him back to the house, where he fed me by hand until I could barely move, and then had me until we were both exhausted.

Salacious Caitlin

Well-Known Member
Jan 29, 2020
Chapter 8 (explicit, and contains a scene of domestic violence)

And then the day came at last when the tailor arrived to take my measurements and make me up a wardrobe for court.

Ironic, that. My father, if he were lucky enough to sell the court his wares at all, would have dealt only with some underling. Yet I, disinherited, outlaw, and currently living in what the priests would certainly call a state of mortal sin, was going to be presented to Queen Thalassina and Prince Kerthi; I would not be much in their company, of course, but I would see them, and they would see me.

They would hardly be able to avoid seeing me; I doubted there would be any piece of furniture, not even the royal throne, big enough for me to hide behind.

The tailor, a little wizened man, buzzed about me like a bee, measuring all my dimensions, while the Warden stood by with a look of restrained hilarity upon his face, occasionally responding to a muttered “45 inches,” or “Best add some gussets here,” with a nod.

I thought this tailor might have dressed former “assistants”; if not, he was well able to conceal what might have been horror, amazement, or awe. He and the Warden decided between themselves that I would wear my breeches ‘under’, with extra fabric added to my shirts and coats.

I remembered thinking I was fat, back in the spring.

I had scarcely known what fat was.

It felt ecstatically, unbelievably wonderful: the constant jiggle and sway, the pressure on my cock, the soft yielding under my hands.

It was neither ecstatic nor wonderful to be forever hot and sweating, to wash several times a day lest the Warden find me smelling of sweat, to struggle to walk or ride and to know that everything I’d once had of horsemanship, of swordsmanship (of freedom) I had done away with.

“I think five shirts, four of linen and one of silk, three sets of breeches, one good enough for presentation to Her Majesty,” the Warden said, “and three frock-coats, two plain and one with lace. And underthings.”

“Very good, my lord,” the tailor said. “Shall we say two weeks?”

“Yes,” said the Warden. “That will be just in time.”

The tailor left, and the Warden regarded me, standing in only my linen underclothes as I was. “Take those off.”

I did, puffing a little.

He walked up to me, still clothed, bringing his scent of musk and leather, and took my face in his hard, calloused hands, turning it this way and that, and finally pinching my cheek. “I scarcely think anyone will know your face. Your cheekbones have entirely vanished and your jawline is lost in your chins. Your pretty eyes are the same, of course. But from what you have told me, no-one ever cared to spend much time gazing into them. You will have to braid your hair up – a wild mane is hardly the fashion, at court.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He stepped back, took off his boots, and then his coat and shirt, baring his sun-browned, lean, muscled body: so different from what mine had become. Then he returned, and leaned into me. I wanted to run my hands over his skin, but I had learned he did not care for this, so I kept still.

His fingers sank into my bulky upper arms. “Any muscle left here? Can you lift anything heavier than a fork and spoon? I doubt it. And these udders. Will you start to give milk like a cow one of these days?” He flicked one of my swollen nipples. It stung. Humiliation, and the feeling of him pressed against me, long and hard as an iron rod under his breeches, made me start to tremble with desire.

“But you’re almost bell-shaped, aren’t you?” he went on. “Carry your weight low. I’d wager you could hide a pistol between these rolls. You haven’t thought of doing that, have you?”

I gauged this as meant to be funny, and obediently laughed.

Strange. My cock was swollen with pleasure at what he was doing to me. Even though my mind had grown increasingly to resent it, and my heart… there was no point at all in thinking about my heart.

He reached around me, squeezing. “This arse. Dimpled and soft as butter. And…” He was starting to pant with lust, sweat running down his handsome face. “My masterpiece.” He lifted my belly, let it fall – and that feat took some strength, because it was enormous, a mound of blubber my arms would no longer reach around, preceding me by several feet at least and hanging down over my thighs. It rippled like liquid under his touch.

I could still reach my cock. Somehow. From the side. With difficulty. The tide of flesh lapped around its base, but had not swallowed it entirely.

“Lie down on the bed,” he commanded me, and once I had lain down on my back, he stripped off his breeches to bare his manhood, swollen and glistening with his need. I felt my own cock poke from under the sensitive pad of fat that hid it now when it was not engorged, and my pulse raced.

He climbed on top of me, grasping hard at my breasts, at rolls of fat, whatever he could reach, and pushed his cock into the yielding flesh of my belly, and began to thrust. “I. Made this. I… Made you into this. A pile… of blubber.”

Every part of me wobbled and swayed with the force of his thrusts. The movement, the weight pressing down, awoke intense arousal, caused me to gasp breathlessly.

“And now… to the court… and everyone will see you, and they’ll stare and laugh as you waddle, and you’ll like that. Midnight. You’ll get hard from that. You’ll beg me to make you fatter. Until…”

I heard myself making cries of desperate need as I tried to somehow maneuver my folds and bulges to make something, anything, touch my cock and set my pleasure off like a firecracker.

The Warden let out a strangled cry and shot hot seed over my belly, then collapsed atop me, hard hands still grasping, pinching.

Once he had got his breath back, he patted me on the cheek, put his clothes back on, and left; leaving me uncertain whether he failed to realize, or simply didn’t care.

It was not the first time he had left me so.

Among my bed furnishings was a long, firmly stuffed bolster pillow. I sat up, straddled it, and thrust, simultaneously pulling the soft weight of my belly in and down, pushing my own fat down onto my cock, imagining the Warden, imagining him different, touching me kindly, affectionately, and then in my mind’s eye it was not the Warden’s hands or cock or face at all, and I found release at last in a sudden burst that made me cry out aloud.

Salacious Caitlin

Well-Known Member
Jan 29, 2020
Chapter 8, continued

Several weeks later, at the start of summer, we went to the royal court in Anthusbourne.

I had been surprised up till now how few retainers the Warden had, for local lords were meant to command regiments of the Watch, and often quartered at least some of the men in their own manor buildings, and rode out with them as escort frequently (which was very annoying for those in my former trade). Now men rode in, hard-faced men in the forest-green coats of the Watch. I was writing letters in the study – mostly orders to tradesmen and domestic staff so that the Warden’s townhouse in Anthusbourne should be prepared for his arrival – when the Warden strode in, accompanied by one of these.

I knew him. A broad-built, ill-favored brute, called Osprey, but not nearly so handsome as his namesake bird of prey. How should I not know him? He and his men had pursued me many times over the years; he’d had me in irons on the occasion I had told Cass about.

“Osprey,” de Valeriano said, “this is Magpie, my secretary, lately come from his schooling in Northwick.” This was the name he had chosen for me, partly because it was a commoner’s sort of name and would prevent anyone being very interested in my origins, and partly because he liked to make a play upon ‘pie’.

I stood, and nodded politely. “Sir.”

Osprey’s heavy brows lifted as he no doubt marveled at my girth, but he said only, “Magpie. Well met. Traveling with you to Anthusbourne, sir?”

“Yes,” the Warden said, and they fell to discussing plans for the journey, which we were to undertake the next day. As I had not been dismissed, I went back to my work.

“Now,” Osprey said, “I do think with myself and my five men we have enough, but I still would recommend ending our first day’s journey early, at the inn at Crossroads, so that we pass through the West Hills while the sun is high on the next day.”

I pricked up my ears. The oak forest that drew near about the road, the steep slopes and the tight turns made the West Hills a very familiar hunting ground for me.

“Of course,” the Warden said. “What have you heard of robbers in the region? Now that I am back from the war, I mean to make it my business to root all these roving scum out of the district.”

“In which the Watch will be happy to assist you,” Osprey said, nodding his head fervently. “I will tell you, though, since winter the filth have not been so active as they were formerly. That Midnight, that scourge, whom I even had in my hands once – how it rankles me! Well, he has not been heard of, and neither has his partner in crime, Sureshot. These men do not live long. They fall to quarreling, or run afoul of someone’s guards; and it was a hard winter.”

Him. I looked down to hide the sudden reddening of my cheeks.

But what could have happened to him? Had he needed me? There had been four other men in our crew – it was not as though he had been left alone…

As he left you alone, injured and without a horse. Do not be a sentimental fool.

“I wonder why they must dub themselves with these stupid names,” the Warden remarked.

Sureshot had taken a fairly hefty ration of ribbing for his sobriquet, it was true. The White Horse Tavern came back to me, all of us dividing a bag of gold coins we had come away with, drinking most of it then and there; laughing and singing.

“Who knows,” Osprey said, “but others will no doubt fill their place, so we will keep our pistols loaded and our eyes peeled through the hills.”

I could not help myself. “Oh, I hope so, Mr. Osprey. I have heard such tales of the dread Midnight.” I made my voice nearly quaver with anxiety.

The Warden glared at me.

Osprey puffed himself up. “You need have no fear, young man. The Watch stands ready to protect.” I could see in his expression that he thought me a great looby, a gluttonous scholar who was neither a soldier nor a watchman but could only wield something so worthless as a pen; on the other hand, I had given him an opportunity to praise himself, which he could not resist, and so he began on a long discourse about pistols and swords and ways to protect travelers from highwaymen, most of which were bunk.

After a few minutes of this, the Warden found a moment to interrupt, and eventually ushered Osprey out. Then he turned to me, scowling. “Like to take risks, do you?”

“It was you who brought up highwaymen, my lord.”

“Hmf,” he said. “Well. Do not forget what would happen if you were found out. First everyone would laugh, and then you would be hanged.”

And what would happen to you, my lord? But I did not dare say that, and only nodded.

Salacious Caitlin

Well-Known Member
Jan 29, 2020
Chapter 8, concluded

The next day, we left for Anthusbourne: myself and de Valeriano in the carriage, Cass driving, two spare horses led behind, and six watchmen. At that, it was a smaller cavalcade than many I had seen, for the Warden did not employ a valet or other servants, as most noblemen would do.

Nobody was going to try to rob us, not with six armed guards. No crew would be so reckless or so desperate.

I hoped.

For it would almost certainly be somebody I knew. Besides the crew that he – Sureshot – and I had led, there were two other sworn bands operating in the region, and a couple of farmers who would occasionally try their hand when the harvest was bad. Would I be able to watch Osprey and his men shoot or capture a friend, or a friendly rival, and do nothing about it? I was not sure.

The Warden and I were alone in the carriage, and the instant it began to rattle down the road, I was discomfited. The vehicle rocked on its springs, it jolted, it swayed, it vibrated; and so, unstoppably, did all my fat. De Valeriano could not keep his eyes off me. For my part, I was torn between seasickness and wild arousal. It made for a very long morning.

We stopped around noon to eat cold bacon sandwiches that Aithya had packed – I could not exhibit my customary gluttony when in company, but in fact I did not want to, after all that jolting. I was happy to stretch my legs and look around me.

Along the road were fields and pastures, and farmhouses, with inns, smithies, and other such establishments mostly set at crossroads. Everything was green and pleasant in the early summer. But just as we were preparing to set off again, Cass said, “Look there, down the way. They are making for us.”

The watchmen mounted up and made a show of readying their pistols, but the Warden said, “Wait. These look like honest folk.”

There were five men and two women, and I recognized several of them: farmers from the countryside around. I certainly knew the man in the lead, a sturdy, gray-haired fellow, for we had negotiated with him for safe passage across his fields (the price had been that we stopped stealing from his apple orchard). I moved back to stand by the carriage, in its shadow, and pulled down the brim of my hat to conceal my face. Cass had quickly begun to harness the horses, which had been let to graze.

“Your lordship,” the man said, “may we have a word?”

The Warden nodded. “Who are you, my good man?”

“Lanner, sir. I hope you may help us, indeed. Men have come and told us we must leave our lands, that we rent from you. Now we don’t credit it, sir. We’ve paid our rent. And have got nowhere else to go, us and our families. These men, they say they come with your blessing.”

“They do,” said the Warden. I listened in shock. “You see, the time for small farms is over. Sheep is the thing now. Sheep, and mining. There’s no profit in little harvests of a bale of hay here, a wagon of turnips there. So your tenancies have been ended. My agents showed you the papers, did they not?”

Lanner appeared at a loss for words. I said, “Sir, if I may, not all of these men can read. But surely you don’t really mean…”

“Enough, Magpie,” the Warden said without turning to look at me. “Lanner, and the rest of you, I don’t blame you for needing to hear this from me directly, as your landlord. But just as my agents told you, you and your families must be out by midsummer.”

Midsummer! These people had farmed these lands for years, and their parents before them. Some of the little group muttered, and I saw the anger on their faces, but Lanner held up a hand to calm them. “But, my lord, then how are we to live?”

“Oh, I will be hiring a few men to work with the sheep. There are always the cities; much employment to be had. And over on the coast, I am opening several mines, and extending the diggings of the ones currently active. I have need for workers there.” This was all said lightly, as a matter of little real concern.

“I… My lord…” Lanner seemed completely lost for words.

“Let us go,” the Warden said. “We have a long journey ahead of us.”

Our party mounted, got into the carriage, and rattled off down the road, leaving the little delegation in a cloud of dust.

As soon as we were under way,with the carriage rattling too loudly for our words to be heard outside, I said, “My lord, what can you mean by this? Surely you don’t really mean to cancel the tenancies they’ve held for generations and cast them all out on the road?”

“I told them the truth,” the Warden said coldly. “And it should not come as a surprise for you, since you have been writing up the orders.”

“Yes, very well, I remember writing things about sheep, but I had no notion that you meant to utterly take people’s livelihoods. My lord, they will starve. You can’t really think they can find other work in the cities or go dig for copper…”

He was laughing. “Listen to you! What ground have you to stand on? A robber and a thief, a glutton for others’ wealth just as you are for food!”

“Not true,” I retorted. “We would scarcely take anything from the poor, maybe a piglet or a few apples from a bushel, but never all that someone had.”

“Only because they did not have enough for you to take!” He was still chortling.

“No,” I protested.

There was something in what he said, of course, but it was also the case that we knew better than to rouse the countryside against us. We needed taverns, blacksmiths, shops, clothes mended and wounds stitched up; people who liked to listen to the ballads of our deeds better than they liked to sell us to the Watch.

And I would not have done it, anyway. To destroy the whole lives of hardworking people who had never had much to begin with. It was a cruel act, I thought, far beyond the harm done by robbing a mail coach or taking the purse of gold a rich man carried with him on a journey.

“They were courteous,” I said. “Next time I won’t be surprised if they meet you with a mob. Or they will go upon the roads themselves. You’ll have created highwaymen, not ‘rooted them out’.”

“Then the Watch knows what to do.”

“Have you no kindness at all in you?” I burst out.

“That is enough,” he said. “I’ll hear no more from you. Open your mouth again and you won’t like what happens.”

“Arsehole,” I muttered under my breath.

He got up from where he was sitting across from me and slapped me hard across the face. I tasted blood.

Then he returned to his seat and fixed me with a furious stare, no doubt expecting me to cringe and beg my master’s pardon. I did not move.

“Osprey and his men,” the Warden hissed, “would be horrified to know how I was practised upon by an outlaw masquerading as a scholar. There are many trees along this road to hang you from.”

I sighed, got up, and moved across the swaying carriage to kneel at his feet.

“Better,” he said. “Now sit beside me.”

I squeezed my bulk onto the velvet-covered bench beside him, and he commenced to fondle me through my clothes, while I blotted my cut lip with a handkerchief and tried not to feel any pleasure at what he was doing, and failed.

In this not very pleasant manner we passed the rest of that day.

When we alighted at the Crossroads inn, Cass’s eyes widened at my cut and swollen lip. “Oh, it is nothing, I only slipped when the carriage bounced, very clumsy of me,” I said.

“Yes,” said the Warden, “you seemed to hit every rock and rut the road had to offer, Cassinii. Do strive to drive more skillfully.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Cass, expressionlessly.

But as I lay in my bed that night in the common sleeping-room, listening to the watchmen snore – Osprey sounded like a hog being strangled – and Cass’s soft breathing, I could not sleep. I was hungry, because I could not draw notice by gorging myself in public, but more, I was uneasy in my mind.
Glutton for others’ wealth, the Warden had called me. And in truth, what right did I have to rail at him for taking from his tenants? I had never destroyed anyone’s entire existence – I thought. But how did I know? It had been easy to think that the rich man had many more purses of coins where the one I’d taken came from, or that the noblewoman’s husband would simply buy her another ruby-studded marriage collar. In truth, though, I could not know that for sure and yet I had stolen anyway. I had never shot anyone I robbed, nor had any of my crew while I was with them, but I had put them in fear; I had made people tremble and cry. Easy to say I’d had no choice, but I could have had the wisdom to restrain myself and so not be thrown out of my father’s house; I could have joined the army, for bad food and worse pay and a skin perforated by Hesperican cannonfire or Other arrows…

There was no good answer to any of it. I was a lowly being, cast out by everyone who had ever known me, undeserving even of my own self-pity. I was lucky that a rich man wanted to fatten and fuck me. It was better than I was entitled to.

My lip hurt, and my leg ached where the pistol ball had struck, though no wound was to be seen there now.

Eventually I slept.


like the pancake
Dec 7, 2019
Oof! As hot as this is I want Midnight to get some reprieve and a little love <3 You've made me attached to the guy. Also I love that this story touches on plot points other than just the weight gain. I can't wait to see what happens next!

Salacious Caitlin

Well-Known Member
Jan 29, 2020
Chapter 9 (explicit)
“A few more meals like that and we’ll be rolling you around in a wheelbarrow, for your legs won’t be able to support your weight."

The coach rattled and jolted. The Warden insisted on keeping the windows closed, so it was only by the feel of our motion that I could tell we were going uphill, then putting on the brake to go carefully down: we were in the West Hills.

Outside, I knew there were green-leaved oak trees, wildflowers, clear streams, squirrels chattering, birds singing: the greenwood. And almost certainly someone watching us, perhaps from the old ring-fort that crowned one of the hills and which we had often used as a camp. Someone with a spyglass, maybe. I hoped they would see the six armed guards and do nothing foolish.

Ballads made much of the greenwood and its gaieties. In fact, it was very well supplied with biting midges, blood-sucking ticks, stinging nettles, mud, cold winters, and summer thunderstorms. But on a night like tonight would be, mild and calm, to be lying in the old fortress with the campfire burning down, looking out the broken roof at the brilliant stars and talking about what adventures tomorrow might bring…

I missed it.

Also, I was hungry. The inn had provided only a meager breakfast and there was certainly no chocolate to be had. I hoped the Warden could not hear my stomach growling, but from his amused expression, he knew exactly how ravenous I was; and, in fact, after we had been traveling for a little while he reached into the hamper resting on the seat beside him and pulled out a roll of white bread that had been cut open and smeared with honey and butter. I tried not to stare at it.

“Want this?” he inquired, smiling.

“You know I do.”

“Then come over here and earn it.” He unbuttoned his breeches.

“My lord! Is this not risky?” I kept my voice low, afraid to be heard, even though the carriage was rattling and creaking loudly.

“Compared to a battlefield? What a coward you are.”

When he put it that way my pride was stung, and the golden clover honey was dripping down over his hand. I moved across the rocking carriage, lowered my bulk down to kneel between his spread knees, reached into his underclothes to free his long, hard cock.

“Here,” he said. “I’ll sweeten the pot… so to speak.” And he let honey drizzle over his rampant length.

I licked the sweetness from the swollen head and the velvet-skinned length of his cock, making eager little moans for him to hear, then braced myself on the seat against the carriage’s motion and took him deep, over and over, until he gasped and shot hot, salty spend down my throat.

Then I laid my head on his knee and let him feed me the bread, bite by bite, from his hand.

When it was gone, he said, “Your turn. Breeches down.”

I sat back and undid my buttons, letting the pale avalanche of my belly spring free, then pulled up my shirt so he could see it, rippling and jiggling as the carriage rattled over the road.

“Take your cock,” he said.

I did, making it seem even more difficult than it really was, because I knew he would like to watch that; fumbling with my soft bulk, grasping at rolls of fat, letting my face redden and my breath come short with the effort. Finally, I had its straining hardness in my hand.

“Now,” the Warden said, “take a handful of your fat… your belly, or that second belly you’re growing… and rub it over the head, in circles. Go on.”

I obeyed, rubbing faster and harder, feeling my own softness, feeling the chills and fever of desire race over my skin.

“Harder, now.”

I pressed down harder, my hips involuntarily starting to thrust, the constant vibration through all my flesh driving me mad, almost there, almost…

“Now…” He was hard again already, somehow – the man had infernal stamina -- stroking himself. “Now fuck yourself. Do it. Fuck your own belly. Do it…”

I toppled over onto my side, one hand on my cock, one grasping yielding flesh, pushing, thrusting into my own softness, exploding with a cry I stifled in my sleeve; seeing through tear-blurred eyes him catching his own pleasure in a handkerchief.

We spent another night at an inn. We had now traveled farther south than I had ever been – I’d ridden several nights’ journey in other directions, but the further south, the more towns there were, the more traffic to prey upon, but also far more watchmen and less chance of escape.

Not caring much to make conversation, I ate my share of the inn’s stew (not nearly enough to sate my hunger) and, as soon as I could without appearing strange, took to my bed in the common room and pulled the blanket over my head.

Salacious Caitlin

Well-Known Member
Jan 29, 2020
Chapter 9, Part 2

The next day’s journey was similar in all particulars.

And then we got to Anthusbourne.

I’d never seen the like. The Warden allowed me to open the carriage window, and I stared out, agog, at all the people and the fine, tall buildings that lined the streets. The city was near the sea, and the air was cooler here, a breeze blowing shreds of fog across the sky. The cobbled street was crowded with other carriages and riders and carts and peddlers crying their wares, and we passed markets, and then went through a district of fine shops. Northwick had all those things, of course – but not in such a number. The noise of the place itself was enough to make me stare, amazed.

At length Cass turned the horses up a narrow, winding street that led uphill, and the houses became ever more finely painted with elegant moldings over the doors and windows and marble steps, and we turned in at one of these. “Here we are,” de Valeriano said, and we alighted.

Cass took the horses and carriage into the mews, and I was left to shoulder as much of the luggage as I could, with one of Osprey’s men helping, not very graciously.

Inside, there were servants standing in a line to pay the Warden their respects. He introduced me as his secretary, and I greeted them rather distractedly, because I was too busy looking around myself.

Even as Anthusbourne was a bigger, richer, and louder version of Northwick, so this house was a larger and more luxurious twin, not of the Warden’s manor house, but of the one I had grown up in. There was an elegantly appointed parlor for receiving guests, and a dining-room with a long table; the kitchen and servants’ quarters would be behind those, at the back of the house. Stairs (I groaned a little inwardly at the sight) led upward, spiraling, to the second and third floors, where the private rooms would be.

“Take those upstairs, Magpie,” the Warden said. “Your room is second on the left on the second floor, and I have the third floor; leave my things there,” and so I lurched, gasping and heaving, with my load of baggage up the spiral stairs. Naturally, most of it was his. I set down my clothes and the leather satchel that held my quills, paper, and sealing-wax in the small room designated for me, took a deep breath, and ascended to the summit.

It was apparent that walls had been knocked down to make the whole third floor into a comfortable lair for the Warden. A huge four-poster bed took pride of place, a fire had been laid ready, and there were flowers in vases. I wondered if I should put his things away, since he seemed to have no valet or body-servant here, any more than at the manor, but decided I had better wait to be told, and made my way back downstairs.

“Go back up,” the Warden told me as soon as I got down, “and wash off the road-dirt, and put on fresh clothing, so you look less like something dragged behind a cart. I have business to do, and you shall assist me.”

Moaning silently, I struggled back up the stairs, washed in the basin of water that some kind servant had set out in my room, and changed into one of the plain frock-coats, new breeches, silk stockings, and the pair of shoes without a heel (as opposed to the ones that did, which were for Court, and which I was already worrying about having to walk in).

When I got down, the Warden – who had washed and changed himself as well, and looked elegant in a grey velveteen coat and a shirt with lace frothing at the collar and sleeves – looked me up and down, nodded, and said, “Good enough. Now, we are going to the bank. You have my account-book, do you not?”

I wanted to sit down and bawl, but I plodded up the stairs again, got the book as well as my secretary’s satchel, and returned.

He looked disappointed when he saw the satchel. I had no doubt he’d been anticipating watching me heave my fat arse up the stairs yet another time. But he only said, “Good. Let’s go.”

Cass, who had also changed into a better coat and washed the dirt of the road from his face, brought a different carriage around. This was a barouche, a much more elegant vehicle than the closed carriage we had traveled here in, and more suited to seeing and being seen, since it had a collapsible hood that could be put up against the rain, but was currently folded down. The horses were different as well: a pair of Hesperican stallions, nearly white, with thick, arched necks and long, wavy manes and tails. I could not resist stroking their necks and letting them sniff my hands, thinking as I did how vastly wealthy the Warden was, to have two completely separate establishments with their own horses and vehicles, meaning servants must be maintained here in the city even during the large portion of the year when their lord was at his manor.

“Nice, aren’t they?” Cass said, grinning, although when I looked up at him his face was drawn with weariness; and no wonder, for he had driven us for days without relief.

“Lovely,” I said.

“Enough fawning over the livestock,” the Warden snapped. “Let us go.”

To the bank, then.

Oh, the bank.

My father had of course kept his money with such an establishment, but I had never gone with him, and anyway that had probably been to this like a glass of water to a tankard of chocolate.

It was built of marble, and the moldings were gilt; and when we got inside, the floor was marble too, and portraits glowered down at us. There were guards, armed with swords and pistols, but I only noted them in passing, because my whole being was aflame with the knowledge that beyond the counter where clerks sat there were vaults, huge vaults, and they were full of gold.

How could one rob such a place? Surely it had been done – but I had never heard of it – how would it be possible? The guards might possibly be fought off or distracted, but how to get into the vaults? Was it simply a matter of forcing one’s way in with an armed crew and demanding the money? Or would gunpowder be needed… grenadoes… a cannon?

“Magpie!” the Warden snapped. “My account-book!”

I quickly got it out and handed it over to him. He went to a clerk, signed a piece of paper, made a notation in his book; the clerk went back behind a set of locked doors and returned with a velvet sack the size of my head, and gave the Warden it; and that was all it took, for the Warden to be provided with an amount of money equivalent, assuming they were all gold coins in there, to my very best haul, ever, for which I had risked hanging and had to exchange pistol-fire with guards.

There was no justice in the world, I concluded, following him out. But if only I could get into that bank somehow…

Salacious Caitlin

Well-Known Member
Jan 29, 2020
Chapter 9, Part 3

That night, one of the servants brought a tray of food to my room, and the Warden followed soon after. “Eat,” he said, as soon as the woman had left. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

“Yes, my lord,” I said, and I ate.

And ate.

White bread with butter and honey. Chocolate. Fish, very fresh, fried lightly in batter. Some sort of gamebird, cooked in wine. Lamb wrapped in bacon. A dish of parsnips and oysters. Stewed potatoes. More chocolate.

All the while, the Warden watched as I had to unbutton the top button of my breeches. Then, as I had to open all the buttons. Then, as my belly grew into a taut, overstuffed ball, and I had to lean back in my chair to accommodate it, but there were little lemon-flavored custards, and more chocolate…

At last the food was gone, and I moved to the bed, where I lay on my back gasping, feeling as though I would explode, and desperately aroused. The Warden stood over me, stroking himself through his clothing. “A few more meals like that and we’ll be rolling you around in a wheelbarrow, for your legs won’t be able to support your weight. Say you’ll like that.”

“Oh, yes, please,” I responded obediently.

“I believe I’ll eschew fucking you tonight. You’re so full you might pop, and what a mess that would make. But you can take one more thing in your mouth, can’t you?”

He undressed and kneeled astride my face, and thrust his cock into my mouth, hard and deep. I’d grown practiced at taking him deep but this was something else again – I had no control over it – and if I gagged or, Goddess forbid, bit him, I would pay for it – I relaxed as much as I could and tried to breathe. He reached down and grasped my rounded cheeks with both hands, pulling out to rub his cock against them, then slamming back in. “You. Want. Me to. Make you. Fatter. Don’t you?”

“Mmf,” I replied, sounding as eager as I could.

“You’ll grow. And grow. And grow. Until…”

He spent a choking flood down my throat at that. With an effort, I swallowed it.

“Good,” he said, put on his clothes, patted my swollen belly, said, “We will present ourselves at Court tomorrow morning. See you’re ready,” and left.

I rubbed my belly until the pain of my gluttony eased, then stroked my cock until I came over my own soft, yielding flesh. But the pleasure felt distant. Court.

I had been trying not to think about how afraid I was of the King’s Court. Kerthi’s name and seal was on every warrant for my arrest and execution, as well as the names of the three royal regents, since the King was but seventeen years of age. Surely someone would realize I was an impostor; would ask questions. They would learn who I was, and I could not see how I could possibly escape, or how, if I somehow got away, I could remain uncaptured. Certainly no disguise was likely to do me any good.

I fell asleep eventually, and dreamed.

The carriage came around the bend. I rode Trueheart forward into the road, feeling my arse and belly wobble with his movements. I drew my pistol. “Stand and deliver!”

But then watchmen in their forest-green coats surrounded me, and when I tried to ride away they caught Trueheart’s reins and dragged me down to the ground, and my clothes burst open, spilling my pale, bulging flesh into the sunlight, exposing me, and now I lay on the ground trying to get up, but I could not rise from under the weight of my gigantic belly, and everyone was laughing, and someone said, “Shoot him now.”

I woke gasping and struggling, and it was time to dress for Court.

Salacious Caitlin

Well-Known Member
Jan 29, 2020
The Transformation of Midnight, Chapter 10, Part 1

Court was not as I had imagined, a castle with high towers and a moat, but a sprawling estate in the middle of the city, separated only by a wrought-iron fence. There were guards everywhere in oxblood livery, carrying old-fashioned halberds for show, but pistols on their belts. Cass stopped the carriage at the gates, but the guards had only to glance at the Warden, and we were through; then Cass drove us up to a set of marble steps that led up to a pair of huge, gilded, carved doors, and let us off, driving away then to wherever he would wait.

The steps were difficult in my high court heels, which made my arse protrude and wobble even more than it would have done anyway, but I dutifully followed the Warden up them, and down a hall, and into a large room at the door of which a servant in livery announced him. “Tyto de Valeriano, Lord Warden of the Coast of Storms!”

I was not announced, of course; though the man gave me a fleeting look of genteel stunned horror.

The room was overheated, but very elegant, with a floor of black and white tiles, and high windows that let in only a little air to relieve the scent of many warring perfumes; and it was full of lords and ladies, elegantly dressed. I could have supplied myself for a year from what the fence I’d had a bargain with would have gotten for that emerald-studded marriage collar, or that pair of sapphire hair-pins, or the rapier with its hilt inlaid with what looked to me like Hesperican tigerwood, on the belt of a man who greeted the Warden with great cheer. “Tyto! You’ve come down out of your moors at last.”

“Yes, yes,” the Warden said, and added, “My new assistant, Magpie. Make your bow to Lord Pandion of the Westmarch, Mag.”

I did, wondering why I had been introduced at all, and then saw the man’s dark eyes on me, on the way my belly moved as I made a polite reverence.

Damnation! There are more of them.

I followed the Warden around the room, trying not to teeter on my heels, and bowed every time he greeted a richly dressed noble, which was often. He presented me by name to three others – and one was a woman, with a white feather-plume in her hat, and she gave me just the same look as the men. My skin heated under my too-tight clothes. I wanted to be gone – and yet, they were looking, wanting me…

Not all of them. Most of the glances I got were indifferent, amused, or vaguely disgusted. But those few were all too obviously like my lord, and friendly with him. Perhaps their preference was what had brought them together… but if they had rotund concubines, they had left them at home. There was only me, to be torn apart by eyes like a very fat deer by wolves.

Eventually we progressed around the room, and came to where King Kerthi was sitting on a throne, with his three Regents standing around him. I would have thought the King would be elevated above all, but in the crowd he could not even be seen until one got close. Then the Warden bowed low, and I kneeled, which I much regretted the necessity of, because it was not at all easy to get back up again. And then, to my amazement, the Warden fell into conversation with the Regents, who were all three older men dressed in even more ostentatious luxury than the rest, and beyond his greeting, had nothing in particular to say to his sovereign.

Ignored, I stood quietly and watched. Kerthi was seventeen, I knew, but he was slight and looked younger; but he had an intelligent, lively face. Once he started to say something, to join in his lords’ converse – and they did not even hear him, but went on talking. I could not credit it. This was their King and they were treating him like a child who pipes up at table; and I saw in the boy’s face that he knew it.

I could not help the sympathy I felt. Even though his name and seal were on the warrants for my arrest and execution, I smiled at him.

He smiled back, ruefully.

Then the Warden turned to me and said, “Away with us, Magpie. There is much to be done this day.”

And so there was, by some standards.

We returned to the carriage and Cass drove us to a gambling establishment where the Warden, for hours, played a version of Monsters and Boxes that involved wagering the gold coins he had gotten from the bank, while I stood on my increasingly painful feet and tried to distract myself with thinking how I would rob the place. A serving girl eventually took pity on me standing there and let me have a half-tankard of ale and a piece of bread and butter; I could have eaten a cow by that point, and not bothered to cook it first.

Eventually, the Warden had enough of this, and I trailed after him back to the carriage, where Cass drove the high-stepping greys through the broad avenues of fine houses until we pulled up in front of one. “Magpie,” he said, “go and tell the footman I am here to call upon Lady Laniida for the ride in River Heights Park, as promised.”

I did this, and in a little while the woman whom we had met at court came out. Now that we were out of the bright chaos of that crowded room, I had a chance to really see her. She was very beautiful; I could see that, even though I could not feel the desire that no doubt any normal man would. Her hair, pinned up with combs that sparkled with diamonds, was the shining, rich red-gold of a chestnut horse, and her eyes were green; her skin was very white, and her figure was amply curved.

As I handed her into the carriage, she squeezed my hand and gave me a look that surely would have set most men on fire.

Salacious Caitlin

Well-Known Member
Jan 29, 2020
Chapter 10, Part 2

I climbed in next to Cass on the driver’s bench, while Laniida and the Warden fondly greeted each other on the wider and more padded main seat of the carriage. Cass drove on and before long we came to a park, with wide gravel lanes, shaded lawns and beds of flowers. But where I had expected strolling couples, noble folk on high-stepping horses and the like, there was instead a group of men, some in ragged, smoke- and blood-stained uniforms I recognized as those of our army, some simply in rags. One or two were one-legged,struggling along on crutches; I saw scars and bandages and one man with a white cloth tied around his eyes, leaning on the arm of another who had his eyes, but whose face was marred as if a saber slash had nearly cut it in two. There were elegant folk too, I noticed, but they were hanging well back, apart from the men, reining their mounts and carriages away.

As soon as they saw the falcon crest on the carriage doors the men surged forward, and I saw that some of them carried placards on which were scrawled words such as “Relief for the Poor Soldiers” and “Assistance in Defeat”.

Defeat? We had but lately won the war against the Others… had we not? I glanced at Cass, but his jaw was set and he did not look at me.

The men closed in around the carriage, and I could not help a moment’s fear, unarmed as I was, though I tried not to show it. One stepped forward, a tall man in what had once been a sergeant’s jacket, and I realized: this was the same as the farmers, who had wanted to speak to the Warden about being turned off their lands. But the Warden was reputed a martial hero. How could he have offended these? I glanced back over my shoulder to see his face, and saw that his blue eyes were glaring in a way I had learned to fear.

“Sir,” the man said, “will you not hear us? You have the Regents’ ear. Can you not petition them for soldiers’ aid?”

I felt the carriage rock as the Warden stood; Cass expertly reined the nervous horses in. “I know you, Finch,” the Warden said, “and you, too, Ammodrammus, and I thought better of you.” He raised his voice. “I thought better of you all! To bring your disturbance here! For shame!”

“For shame, is it?” the sergeant retorted. “What about our country’s shame? To let men who served the King starve on the streets! At least say you will speak for us.”

“I owe you nothing,” the Warden answered. “Lowly malingerers, enemies of good order! Cass, drive on.”

The men had crowded thick in front of the carriage, though none had tried to take the horses’ reins. Cass said, “My lord, I…”

“Do I hear defiance from you, too? Drive on, I say! Whip them from your path if you must!”

Cass eased the horses forward, keeping his long driver’s whip still, hovering over the horses’ hindquarters. And the men parted. But only just.

As we moved at the horses’ slow walking pace through the crowd, I met their angry eyes. I could not help it, for I was chilled with horror at what I had just heard. These were his men. I had no doubt of it. And he…

Had they rushed the carriage then, I would not have lifted a finger in his defense.

But they did not. They muttered, and let us go. I could feel the tension radiating from Cass, by my side.

“Good,” said the Warden when we were well clear. “I hope you were not frightened by the rabble, my lady.”

“Not at all, with a hero to protect me,” Laniida cooed. “Oh, but you should have made him whip them. How I would have loved to see that.”

It was a strange thing, I mused, as we broke into a trot and left the crowd behind. In former days, I would have robbed a coach in which Laniida might have been riding; I could imagine it well, Sureshot and perhaps Sparrow blocking the road with their pistols, while I rode up to the coach door in all the panoply of the highwayman, my black mask, plumed hat and tall boots, my gleaming spurs and rapier-hilt. Then I would have paused to let them see who I was, and I might have said, “I regret, my lady, but I must have those diamonds.” Then she would have given them to me, probably with an additional breathy giggle at the excitement of being robbed by the dashing Midnight, and I would have made sure to kiss the back of her hand, to make sure she would have a story to tell.


I wanted those diamonds, still. But I would not have wanted to kiss her hand.

Mostly, lifelong, I’d had occasion to be angry on my own account; with my father, or the Watch, or Sureshot. I might feel anger for a friend who had been ill-treated or come to harm.

The anger I felt now was different. Broader, deeper; a storm-surge rather than a thundersquall. And not only the Warden, but all his jewel-studded kind, were the objects of it.

I brooded on this as we drove through the park, as we returned Laniida to her home, and as we, around sunset, came back to the Warden’s house.

Cass took the horses away without a word. I followed the Warden into the house, limping, because my shoes had rubbed my feet raw and standing about waiting had made everything from my toes to the small of my back ache.

“You are very silent,” the Warden said. “Did they frighten you?” And he chucked me under my second chin as if I were a boy of four.

I thought about breaking his nose for him. But fear came over me: of the stake, the flames, the gallows, but also simply of him. “No, my lord,” I said.

“Well, go up to your room. Cass will bring you dinner. That stomach must be growling for it.”

It was.

“And then bathe very well,” he went on. “You’ll be wanted in my chambers later this evening.”

Of course I would be. His rotund toy. Too cowardly to ever say him nay.

I climbed the stairs up to my room, feet screaming, because I did not dare take off the torturous shoes in front of him.

Salacious Caitlin

Well-Known Member
Jan 29, 2020
Chapter 10, Part 3

Moments later, Cass knocked and came in carrying two heavy baskets and…

Roast chicken. Savory soup drizzled with buttermilk. Another soup, cream and onions. White bread with butter. I lost track of time, so hungry that I could think of nothing but getting the food inside me as fast as possible and…

By chance I glanced up and Cass hadn’t left, but was standing there wide-eyed with a look of horror. It was the first time he had seen me eat.

I swallowed hastily, found my linen napkin where it had fallen to the floor, wiped my face, and said, “I’m… um… sorry.” In fact, I was not so much regretful as suddenly ashamed. “I… “ Should have invited him to share, but I had turned the meal to a shambles of crumbs and bare bones in minutes.

“That’s what it does to you,” Cass said. “You’re like a starving man. Or a werewolf.”

I stared at the ground.

There was a chair across from the small table where my meal had been devoured; Cass pulled it out and sat down. “You don’t understand, Midnight. Look at me. I’m chiding myself. Not you.”

I looked up. “I cannot stop myself, Cass. It’s as if…”

“As if you were still truly starving. That’s what it feels like, isn’t it?”


“It was clear to me, from watching you. I never saw… the others, at table. Neither of them ever came to Court, you understand. They never left that room in the manor house.”

“Are you willing, now,” I said carefully, “to speak of them?”

Cass said, “You asked once if something was being put in your food. It is, of course. I am the one who goes to the apothecary here in the city to pick up the Warden’s order. But I did not know… well, I could see what effect it had, but I didn’t know how.”

“It makes me surpassingly hungry. Or something does. I asked the Warden, early on, and he said he had seen men taken so as a result of nearly starving.”

Cass snorted. “Many a man goes hungry without turning into… anyway, without this.”

“You can say turning into a giant pile of blubber. You have said it before.”

“I know, but…”

“It makes me hungry, and I think it makes me fatten faster and more than I otherwise would, and something else… I think there is something it in to… As one might say a love potion. Only not exactly love.”

“I would not be at all surprised,” Cass said.

I started to gather up the crockery and chicken bones into one of the baskets. Cass helped. When this was done, I put (with an effort) my foot on my knee and bent awkwardly over my belly to try and unlace my shoe. “I hope you will excuse me. I cannot bear these damnable shoes a moment more.”

“Go ahead. But, Midnight, is this really what you consented to?”

“You have still not told me about the others,” I said, pulling the first shoe off with a gasp of pain, revealing bloodstained silk stockings. “Damnation!”

“Answer my question.”

I looked up from my wounded foot. “It doesn’t matter, Cass. I consented to be his concubine. It doesn’t matter that I did not know he would drug me. None of it matters.” I switched to the other foot, picking at knotted laces. “Every foolish thing I have done has been in the search for pleasure. Nothing more creditable. I got myself thrown out of my father’s house; I turned my comrades against me; now I am here and – Oh for fuck’s sake!” I ripped the shoe off and threw it across the room.

“Let me see that,” Cass said, moving his chair closer.

“No need. They are only blisters.”

“And could fester. Let me see.”

I let him take my foot onto his knee. As he picked the bloodied silk stocking from my swollen foot and pudgy ankle, he said, “I think you speak too harshly, Midnight. I think you did all those things not so much for pleasure, but searching for love.”

“The more fool I.”

He poured cold water onto a handkerchief and set about cleaning my bloodied heel. “I heard his order for bath water. Make sure you clean these again. And attend him barefoot. He will not care.” He set down my foot gently, and picked up the other one. Involuntarily, I hissed in pain.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. My muscles are all sore. I stood attending him for longer than a pile of blubber can easily endure.”

Cass finished cleaning the burst blisters, and said, “Like an overriden horse. Well, the liniment is all down in the mews. Where is your skin-cream?”

I found the rose-scented cream.

“Give me your leg again.”

It was warm in the room suddenly. I let him take back my foot, wondering if he felt how heavy even my lower leg was, if he felt my plump calf squashing and wobbling on his knee. He worked the cream into my aching foot, avoiding the sores. I wanted to groan with relief, but made myself keep silent. His strong, calloused hands circled my ankle, pressed deep, finding the painful spots and drawing the tension away. “Working your feet half off to please him,” he said. “And all the while…”

My breeches were too tight to slide up my leg. Cass wiped his hands and continued, through the cloth now, up my drum-tight calf muscles, his thumbs making circles, pressing through the thick layer of lard to the overtaxed sinews underneath. “All the while?” I asked, somewhat out of breath.


The door opened, without a knock. As one, we froze. The Warden looked in.

After a moment, he said, “Leave what you are doing there, Cass, and go to your proper place, which is with the horses.”

“Sir,” Cass said, set my foot down gently, and left.

The Warden remained, his blue stare pinning me in place. “My lord,” I said, “it’s only that my feet were…”

“Shut up.”

He remained staring for a while, as my blood ran chill and I thought of the gallows, and then tossed something at me. I caught it reflexively. A pot of black kohl, such as a whore might use to brighten her eyes.

“Bathe,” he said. “Carefully. Put that on. And then attend me upstairs in an hour. Wear your velvet dressing gown.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Salacious Caitlin

Well-Known Member
Jan 29, 2020
Chapter 10, Part 4 (Warning! Adults only!)

When I came upstairs, swathed in green velvet, with my still-damp hair falling in black waves to my waist and my eyes shining against the sooty kohl, I found not only the Warden, but Pandion, Laniida, and the other two lords who had gazed at me so hungrily earlier in the day, whose names I had not attended to. The room was lit only by great stands of beeswax candles, and furs and soft cushions covered the floor.

I was meant to clutch my robe to myself in maidenly horror, to try and refuse. I could see that in the curl of the Warden’s lip. It would amuse him to have me balk, to make me obey so that his friends could see.

I would not do that.

I might hate these overdressed leeches. I might regret the bargain I had made. But I had made it, and I was going to wring what pleasure I could from it.

I looked them all in the eye, slid the velvet from my shoulders and let it fall to the floor, and walked to the center of the room, naked. My belly rolled and bounced as I moved. The candlelight illuminated every fold and bulge.

“Well, Tyto,” one of the nameless lords said; a little weedy man whom I could probably have squashed by sitting upon. “You have outdone yourself.”

“Yes,” Laniida said. “He is magnificent. What a specimen.”

The others seemed merely to struggle for breath. So did the Warden, for a moment, upstaged. Then he said, “Here, Magpie. Rub this on yourself. All over yourself.” And he tossed me a little clay pot.

I opened it, expecting more of the rose-scented lotion. But this had a different scent: sensuous, deep, sweet, almost fetid… hawthorn. I scooped out a handful and let them see me rub it on my swollen breasts, my hanging belly, working it into every deep fold on my sides; my arms, from which the fat swung as I moved. I bent, then, letting them hear me puff with the effort, and covered my legs, my dimpled knees, working it as far up as I could without quite revealing… A quick glance told me that all three of the male guests were undressing, and all were rampant. I turned to show them how far my hands sank into my soft arse as I rubbed in the cream.

My skin had begun to tingle. My breaths were short and fast. My cock was raging hard – but they could not see it. I would choose whether I would let them see.

I covered my hands in the last of the cream and slowly began to cover my underbelly, lifting up my flesh to give them glimpses of my quivering fat pad. I could hear them breathing.

Then, I kneeled on the furs, lowered myself down to hands and knees, arse toward the nobles, my belly hanging to brush the soft brown deerskin. Glanced back over my shoulder. And wiggled my hips so that the fat of my buttocks quivered.

They were upon me, then.

…Hips wedged between the pillows of my arse, a hard cock reaching deep inside me for that sweet spot…

…My belly swinging with every thrust, making a wet slapping sound as my bulges collided…

…Cocks in the folds of my flanks, hands bruising the flesh as they pushed themselves deep into my fat…

…The lady, skirts spread about her, bared to me, guiding my lips and tongue to pleasure her, my plump cheeks sticky with her juices…

…Exploding with pleasure deep within, my seed trickling down the curve of my belly…

…The weedy man underneath me – Laniida now to the side, crying out as one of the other lords took her, her corset pulled down and his big hands on her soft, creamy breasts – the weedy man grabbing at my belly until I understood and lowered it onto his hard cock, thrusting as if I was fucking him with it, his scream of ecstasy and the burst of hot wetness against my flesh…

…On my back now, Pandion kneeling above with his cock far down my throat and the other man, the older man with the gold Hesperican earplug, fucking me between my belly and my fat pad so that my cock felt the pressure and I convulsed in orgasm again…

…Cocks. Between my breasts, pressing deep into my belly, up my arse, among my folds, I was soaked with their spend until I reeked of it…

…Laniida’s cunt against my belly, spreading her lips to get closer, grabbing handfuls of my flesh to rub and jiggle hard upon her most secret parts…

…A brief, blurred glimpse of the Warden, standing aside, a bulge in his breeches and a smile upon his face…

I lay, panting, wrung dry. The four lords and the lady washed themselves with clean cloths from a basin of water that stood by, and put their clothes on. “Very nice, Tyto,” the older man said. “My turn next, I believe? I’m training up a girl – you will never have seen such a sow.”

“Ah, Tyto does not like the females,” Pandion laughed.

“Not at all,” the Warden said. “Make it fat enough, and what’s the difference?”

They all laughed at that, and made their farewells, and left.

By first rolling onto my side, and then pushing my way up, I managed to sit on the floor with my belly pushing my legs apart. Bruises were forming on it.

The echoes of pleasure still rang through me. The storm-surge of anger rose so high I felt sure the Warden could see it in my eyes.

He said, “Very nice, Midnight. You performed well. You may go; I’ll have a bit of chocolate sent to your room.”

I went.

I drank the chocolate. It tasted as much like heaven as it ever had, even now that I knew.

I washed myself, and then I slept like the dead.

Salacious Caitlin

Well-Known Member
Jan 29, 2020
Chapter 11
Chapter 11

I woke hungry, and so stiff in every muscle that I gasped and swore when I tried to sit up. Bite-marks and bruises covered me. My cock hurt when I pissed – the horrid thought came to me that one of the Warden’s noble guests might have passed along an unwanted gift – but no, it was only chafed. As was my belly, the underside red and tender, and I simply had to try not to think about my arse.

I put on the least excruciatingly tight of my court clothes, but left the torturous shoes off until the last possible moment.

When the knock at the door came, it was not one of the servants bringing my breakfast, but Cass. He came in, put the basket on the table – I restrained myself, with difficulty, from lunging for it – and just stood and looked at me.

“Good morning,” I said.


“You need not stay and watch,” I said testily, thinking I read his expression.

“It isn’t that. Midnight, I didn’t know. You must believe me that I did not know until I saw their carriages driving away.”

“What could you have done if you knew? What should you have done? Nothing. I will take my breakfast now, if you don’t object.” I began to rummage through the basket. “Would you like some? Assuming, of course, that only the chocolate has been drugged.”

“No, thank you.” Cass sat down. “Listen. I think I understand now. And I am ready to disobey him, and tell you about the others.”

I found a covered plate of poached eggs and sweet rolls and attacked it as he spoke.

“You see, tonight the Warden will visit one of those others. While we are here – we are meant to stay another week – they will exchange visits. He made these friends perhaps six years ago. And I think now that they have a compact with one another, a sort of secret society… a competition. They have fattened up concubines of their own.”

“I heard things that made me believe this,” I agreed, finding a confection of almonds, honey, and dried fruit.

“But the Coast of Storms is remote, and the others… were not suitable. He is very proud, now that he has you, being no longer shamed before his friends. The whole thing…” Cass sighed. “It is so much more than simply a preference for fat lovers. That, I had no quarrel with. This…”

“Tell me about the others.”

“The first one was a well-to-do farmer’s son. He was pretty, but… I hate to say it… stupid. It was not merely lack of education. He had nothing to say. He got very fat, of course, and in those days there were stairs to your room, not a ramp, and one day he was found with a broken neck at the bottom of the stairs. It seemed he had tripped, being heavy and awkward.”

“Or awkwardly unsuitable,” I said.

“The second one was from a band of traveling players who stopped at the manor. He was a very handsome man, but Goddess, what a shite. It was all ‘I am my lord’s favorite’ and ‘you had better do as I say or the Warden will hear about it.’ He could act well-mannered if he chose, but he was never brought here, for what reason I do not know. Instead, he grew fatter and fatter. Much fatter than you. After a while, he could not rise from his bed. He became a great mound, barely able to move. The Warden had me help to turn him, to clean him. In time the boasting and complaining stopped and he would only… more or less grunt, and his features were tiny in a huge round face, and I’m not sure that he could speak. But the Warden never stopped… visiting him.”

It was a horrific image. At the same time, it made me squirm with a thrill of desire. “But then he died.”

“Yes. I think his heart gave out, or he stopped breathing… I wonder if in fact he smothered under his own fat somehow. I had to bury the body.”

“I am sorry you had to endure that,” I said, finding the tankard of chocolate.


“Hmm?” I looked at him.

“I had not much sympathy for them. That troubles me, now. “

“You could not have expected what happened.”

“But I should have. And now I am sure. He’ll kill you. In time. Even though he values you, even though he desires you – what he really desires is to fatten you until you die.”

I picked up one of my feet with difficulty and looked at the heel. “I have got blisters, still. Do you think we might find some gauze?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Are you not listening to me?”

“No,” I said. “Because he will kill you for disobeying even more quickly than he may very well feed me to death. And that is the last I will hear of it.”

“Don’t you care if you live or die?”

“Cass,” I said, “either find me some gauze for my feet, or send another servant to do it.”

He got up, knocking the chair over, and left.

I began to braid my hair, trying hard not to think about what he had asked; because the truth was, that I did not know the answer to his question.

On this day, when we arrived at Court, the Warden said to me, “You need not attend me. I have much business to do. Go wait in the anteroom there, and I will find you when I require you.”

This was a relief. I found there were chairs in the room, and an open window through which I could see the gardens; and I had brought a quantity of sugared almonds in my satchel, so I was better prepared than I had been the day before. I settled down to wait.

Time passed.

Other servants and assistants came in, exchanged greetings, waited for a while, then left again as they were called upon. So it was only dumb luck that I was alone in the room when I sensed danger, just as I might once have sensed watchmen lying in wait; when I looked up and saw him standing there staring at me.

He was not wearing what I had been used to see; he was dressed now as one of the bejeweled lordlings, and there was a ruby in the pommel of the rapier on his belt. Almost immediately I dismissed the idea that he had made some bargain similar to mine: it was a real ruby, and his clothes were too fine for any concubine. His coat was of black velveteen, and black was fantastically expensive.

His chestnut curls still tumbled onto his shoulders, and his eyes were still the same chocolate-brown.

He was staring at me with his handsome face pale. “You!”

“You,” I said. “I presume I ought not to call you Sureshot.”

“Devil’s creature! How is it that you follow me here? And in such a guise!”

“Sit down, Melanuro, before someone hears you.” How could it be that I was calmer than he was? When the last thing I’d seen of him was the sole of his boot smashing into my face? “My story is easily told. After you left me without a horse or food or any possessions in the middle of winter, I eventually made my way to a manor house, where I found employment. You, on the other hand, would appear to have some explanations to provide.”

“I owe you nothing! You, who laid unclean hands on me. Look at you now, swollen with evil – is it a disease?”

I said, “It is commonly referred to as ‘being fat’, Melanuro. As for unclean hands…” My voice wanted to break. I steadied it, and went on half-whispering, afraid someone would hear. “You sound as if I threw you down and raped you! I only put my hand on your leg – I only asked if perhaps you might want to – after we had shared blankets and cuddled together for warmth night after night for years! Little did I know you were such a fainting maiden!”

He lurched forward as if he would strike me, then whirled around and paced the room, fists clenched at his sides. “I should thank you, in a way. I went back to my family and begged their pardon.”

“I take it you did not explain where you had been.”

He only shot me a glare. “I have washed my hands of criminal ways. Forever.”

“Good for you,” I said. “And nice coat, by the bye. So now I will say nothing of your erstwhile deeds, and you will say nothing of mine, and we need never speak again.”

“No, Corvus. Not good enough. You cannot bring your evil into the very presence of our King.”

Sweat ran down my back. “You will have to take my word I mean him no harm. For if you were to say anything about me, it might do harm to the reputation of Tyto de Valeriano, Warden of the Coast of Storms. And I feel very sure you do not want to be the man who does that.”

I saw the name strike home like a pistol ball. But he only glared, turned on his heel, and strode out.

I stared out the window, seeing nothing, struggling not to weep, in case anyone should come in and see.

He had been a shite. A coward. A slumming lordling. All that time, while I had loved him in desperate silence, he had been of so little worth. All my happy memories, which I had clung to in my heart, were tainted now.

And now he was a threat. I gave up on holding back the tears, but let them run down my face until they finally stopped, leaving me hollow.

I waited for a long time, until the Warden returned for me; I said nothing until we were in the carriage, and then told him quietly, “Someone knew me today.”

“What? Who?”

“Melanuro… I do not know his surname. He shared the leadership of my crew of highwaymen. I thought he was one of us. Today he appeared; reconciled with his family, it seems.”

I noticed Cass’s head slightly turned as he tried to eavesdrop.

“Oh, Melanuro de Blanco. What an interesting piece of information. You are sure?”


“His father had been putting it about that he was overseeing their interests in Hesperica. Well, the family is not of great account. Do not worry. I’ll see to it that he says nothing.”

“Thank you, my lord,” I said, wishing he would leap to my defense, or that he would realize it must have been distressing; but of course he was not that sort of man.

“It’s nothing.” He leaned toward me and whispered in my ear, “Are you sore from last night? What a sight you were, with all your naked lard a-tremble.”

I smiled flirtatiously, and tried to put Melanuro out of my mind.

Salacious Caitlin

Well-Known Member
Jan 29, 2020
Chapter 11, Part 2
That night, it seemed, it was someone else’s turn, perhaps the older lord’s promised girl; for the Warden left, on horseback. I ate the gargantuan meal provided and was very happy to take to my bed, pull the covers over my head, and sleep.

The next day was much the same. Suffering in court heels, chafed by my tight waistband (which had been tolerably loose when I first tried on the clothes) and bursting seams, sweating in the perfumed air of the court and the gambling establishment, I hurried after the Warden, his harried secretary.

It was also the same in another way. Once again, upon our return home, the Warden said, “You will bathe, and then attend me.”

He’d skipped ‘after dinner’ for a reason: the servants brought none. By the time I made my way, wrapped in velvet, up the stairs, I was very hungry, but resolved to hold onto my dignity. I was not going to sit up and beg, nor play the hog for them.

When I opened the door to the Warden’s large chamber, I found a table had been set for one, and the Warden, Pandion, and Laniida were standing about expectantly, sipping wine.

There was a wine goblet on the table, too. That struck me in particular, for I had noticed that the Warden never provided me anything but plain water or chocolate to drink.

“Stop lurking in the door there, Magpie,” he said. “Sit down and eat.”

I walked to the table, slipping the robe off my shoulders and giving the audience a defiant stare through my obediently black-kohled eyes. The plate – no, it would have to be called a platter – was full of little morsels of meat in what smelled like a parsley sauce. I wanted to fall upon it immediately, but I only sat and looked at the Warden. “Good,” he said, as if I were an obedient hound. “Now, take a drink.”

I did. The wine was rich and red, something grown far south of here, and there was another taste, like berries… and it struck me as if I had been kicked in the head.

Hunger. Lust. I felt myself shaking, panting.

It might have been the same thing I was given in the chocolate, only a much, much greater dose, and I could not help beginning to eat, nor the immediate hard pressure of my cock against my own soft flesh. I devoured what was there… and a servant brought more.

And more.

I could not stop.

“May I?” Laniida asked at one point, when I was sweating and hardly able to stay upright, yet still stuffing food down my throat.

“Be my guest,” the Warden said, and she came over, sat on the table, and commenced to feed me from her white, scented hand.

I was helpless, leaning back in my chair, my belly straining, the skin feeling as if it would tear open, breath coming short, but still she kept pushing morsels into my mouth, and still my cock was hard and throbbing with pleasure. My robe slipped off, leaving me naked, but I lacked the will to retrieve it. I felt tears running down my face, into my hair. I had gone far beyond satiety and into a world of pain. Yet she tipped the goblet to my mouth, and I drank, and ate…

It seemed to be an eternity of torment – but pleasure – but torment, and humiliation – but it felt so good – but my guts would burst and I would die… before the Warden said, “I think he’s had enough.”

Pandion clapped his hands. “Well done! What an astonishing capacity!”

“Go lie on the bed,” the Warden ordered me.

Could I stand? I was unsure. I reeled to my feet, brushing against Laniida’s satiny skirts, feeling her squeeze my belly as I staggered, catching myself on the table. The low, wide bed seemed a mile away as I wove my way toward it, unable to see my feet, clutching my bursting belly. Somehow I got there and collapsed onto my back, the taut dome of my body looming above me – no softness now, no jiggling, it was stretched so tight I could see the blue veins under the almost-transparent skin. I could only take shallow breaths under its weight. Surely they wouldn’t do anything more to me now…

But the Warden said, “You were coy the other night, Magpie. There was something you disliked to show. You will show it now.”

Of course he had noticed my small defiance, and how pathetic it seemed now. But the room was spinning around me, the wine buzzing in my ears. I fumbled at my bulk, my hands slipping from it.

“Oh, have mercy,” Laniida said, laughing. “The poor glutton can hardly move!”

“I suppose you are right, my lady,” and the Warden came over, knelt on the bed beside me, and pushed back my belly. Even his lean strength was challenged, I could tell, but there was no time to enjoy that, because the movement made more weight shift to my chest, a tidal wave of fat, and I was wheezing for breath now. “Now come here,” I heard the Warden say. “Lift up that soft apron, and you shall be astonished.”

I felt hands on my most secret folds. “Amazing!” Pandion exclaimed. “He still has a cock – quite a bit of one at that! My Larus was only a little fatter than this when his manhood was swallowed up entirely.”

“And it stands at the ready,” Laniida said. “I declare this one Grand Champion – I do not see how any other pet shall ever top him!”

I would have been happy to kill them all in that moment, yet urgent need pulsed through me. I had begun to cry again, from drunkenness or pain or sheer humiliation.

“You like this, don’t you, Magpie?” the Warden demanded, and I found myself nodding, chins wobbling. “You begged me to make you into a swollen mountain of a man. You love what I’ve done to you. You want to get fatter, don’t you… don’t you…”

I did not know, because I could not see past my own belly, whose hand expertly took my cock and began to stroke it. I was helpless and all I could do was to make wordless gasps and whimpers of pleasure, and spurt my hot ecstasy over the grasping hand.

It was much like the earlier night, then, except that I was still stuffed too full to move, and they smeared my taut globe of a belly with seed.

Salacious Caitlin

Well-Known Member
Jan 29, 2020
Chapter 11, Part 3
Until now, my overindulgences had never made me ill. That ended this night, and with a vengeance.

The townhouse had no garderobe and the chamber pot was not going to be adequate. The servants’ privy was in the side-yard. I put on some of my older clothes and headed there in as much of a hurry as I could manage.

After perhaps the eighth or tenth episode of being very ill from every possible orifice, I staggered out to the old, cracked stone bench which I had found to sit upon in between eruptions, and Cass was waiting there. “I am sorry,” I said wretchedly. “Go ahead, but it is, um, it is not very nice, I am afraid.”

“I came to see how you did,” Cass said.

“I’ll be well enough tomorrow.” In fact, the cool night air and the lessening of the burden upon my guts had revived me a little.

“So you say. But look, Midnight. This cannot possibly be what you wanted.”

“Why do you care what I wanted?” I asked, braiding back my hair while hoping I had not got vomit in it.

“Because… Because we are friends.”

I sighed. “You would do better not to think of me as such.”

“Too late. Why were you so worried, earlier, when we left court?”

Why not tell him? What did it matter? “I encountered someone I knew before, in my former life. He was one of us – he was the man who cast me out, in fact. I had no notion he was truly a lord’s son who had quarreled with his father, or whatever the story may be – I do not care – the point is, he could obviously make trouble, but not without cost to himself, and I threatened him with the Warden’s name.”

“Well, then he will be cowed, surely.”

“I suppose. But I… I’d thought better of him than that.”

“How do you mean? Because he was really a noble, only playing at outlawry?”

“Because he proved himself…” I began to laugh, only there was something of weeping in it. “Such a prig! You should have heard him, all you laid unclean hands on me. I could not tell whether to laugh in his face or hate myself for a ravisher.”

“You are not a ravisher,” Cass said.

“Be that as it may. The Warden cast the matter off as of little concern. I am not so sure.”

“He will not harm you.”

“And you will stop him how?”

“However I must,” Cass said, and I did not know how to answer that, so I cast about for something else to say.

“Those men, in the park. It was… distressing.”

“Yes.” In the moonlight, I saw the muscles tighten along Cass’s jaw.

“But they spoke of a defeat. What did they mean? Everyone knows we smashed the Others and sent the goblin-king running… I mean… everybody knows that? Don’t we?”

“You know that because the broadsheets were published and the gossips sent out at the Regents’ behest, and the soldiers oathbound not to talk.”

“It was not a victory?”

“It was an absolute fucking ignominious rout,” Cass said. “You know that the High Priest Cathartes led the attack?”

“I had heard so.”

“Well, he was slaughtered, and hundreds of us with him. The Others… They can ride their pretty little horses like none of us can ride. They can shoot their recurved bows from horseback faster than any man can shoot a pistol, and with better aim. And there is more, they… This is among the things I was sworn not to talk about, but fuck it,” Cass said, getting up and pacing. “Either they have monsters at their command, or they can change into monsters. They can shapeshift. Some of them can, at least. I saw it happen.”

“They are magic? Are you sure?”

“You wouldn’t ask if you’d had claws at your throat, if you’d seen those eyes!”

“Forgive me. It’s only…”

“Hard to believe, yes. The old stories, the ballads, they’re true. The Others are so beautiful, you know. But so inhuman. You can’t easily tell if they are male or female or somehow both, and it doesn’t matter, because the females are as savage as the males. They have great bright eyes that shine in the dark like wolves’ eyes, and sharp teeth, but their faces are almost human, and lovely… only not quite human… their ears are pointed, and the features are not quite… ours. All their gear is beautiful too, carved and elegant and studded with gems, and their horses have coats that gleam as if they were dusted with gold. You could stand staring at the beauty, until you were pierced through with a hundred arrows.”

“Oh,” I said. “It will sound foolish to say I wish I could see one.”

“Not foolish at all.” Cass sat back down again beside me. “They let us go. I suppose it was the Goblin-King’s order, even his mercy.”

“Did you see the Goblin-King himself?”

“Only from a long ways off. He was black-haired, like you…”

I snorted at this.

“And a storm of death followed wherever he went. I got no closer. I was shot through the leg with an arrow, and my lover fell dead over me, shielding me, and the Warden – I will say this for him – he did not desert us on the battlefield.”

“Yet it seems…”

“That he does not stand by his men now?”

“Yes,” I said.

“There is no glory to be won now,” Cass said. “Only the hard work of charity and kindness.”

“I thought,” I said, “you were loyal to the Warden.”

“I am. I have been. But…” Cass stared up at the moon. “I am beginning to hate him.”

The next day, I was still weak and queasy, and the Warden forebore to make me come to Court. I slept much of the day. Only late in the afternoon, he summoned me, and I came into his chambers to find a cheerful smile upon his face. “You will be glad to know that I have solved your little problem with Melanuro de Blanco.”

“Oh, I am very grateful,” I said.

“Yes, I have gotten him to agree that the nature of your mutual offense shall be unspecified. You are to duel him on the eighth of the month. That is… three days from now, I believe.”

“Duel,” I said.

“Yes. You know how to use a rapier, do you not?”

“I did,’ I said. “I am a somewhat larger and slower target now, my lord.”

He laughed at that. “It is only to first blood. You shall not be harmed. A genteel entertainment for all.”

“I see,” I said. “Well. My thanks, my lord.”

“Yes, yes. Now go and continue your recovery. You are still a little green around the jowls.”

I went, hot with anger, and chilled stiff with fear.