Month by Month (BBW, WG, Fantasy)

[Batman76]

Polgaria was a city under occupation.

One of those occupiers patrolled down the wide, empty streets of the noble district. Beneath her was an immense cat, a jet black panther the size of a cart horse. Were anyone out on the streets at such an hour they would have cringed away from the cat alone, none the less from its exotic rider.

Hestia was a fierce looking woman, an amazon from the far north that was taller and stronger than most men. A long mane of black hair fell down her back and her lean body was firm with defined muscles. In battle she’d wear heavy armor, but this town had no one to offer even a glimmer of a fight. Instead of steel, a very short skirt and breastplate of hardened leather clung tight to her curvaceous hips and high breasts, exposing her long legs provocatively. Any man who glimpsed her would have been greatly tempted to stare, a glance the warrior could easily use as justification to crack the steel tipped whip in her hand against their face. Not that any of the amazons would need to justify any behavior, for this city was theres to do with what they would. Their war leader cared nothing for the people she had conquered and from her down to the lowliest spear woman the city lay ripe for the picking.

Houses and manors were taken as barracks, the owners tossed out on the streets. The most nubile women and handsomest men were seized as servants, regardless of rank. Food was confiscated on a massive level, for the warrior women’s main fortress in the old castle held feasts and revelries each full moon. Even now the lights of its windows lit up the town and any who dared the guards might have approached to catch a glimpse of the debauchery within.

This guard, a lithe woman named Hestia, was one of the few warrior women excluded from tonight’s festival and was looking to take it out on someone. While her belly remained as flat and firm as it was the day the city had fallen, it had grown greedy for the sweet meats and alcohol her race was only allowed under a waxing moon. The northern regions she was born in knew nothing of sugar or cream, cakes or pies, beer or whiskey, only charred meat and cold water. Left to their own devices the Amazons would have gorged themselves daily, but their Queen was as strict with her sisters as she was cruel to her conquests, limiting such gluttony to the full moon. Hestia grumbled to herself about that, like all her sister’s she was passionate and disliked rules and limits.

To make no mention of the intense sexual experiences available throughout the night, the one night of the month her queen allowed the warrior women to let their hair down so to speak! But Hestia had been caught sneaking candied fruit yesterday morn and been put on guard duty for a week. Frustrated, horny, angry and although she wouldn’t admit it, ravenous, Hestia cracked her whip against the night sky, almost daring someone to appear for punishment. When no one did, she snarled and dug her bare heels into the cat’s flanks, both mount and rider disappearing into the night in search of prey.

For a few moments the streets were quiet, not even a mouse daring to move. Then a robed figure burst from an alley, slippered feet making no noise against the cobbles. The person moved as quick as they could, a soft pant emerging from their mouth and soon crossed the street into a different alley. There they found a side door built into the side of a humble looking manor, built to allow servants to unload and load cargo without using the main door. For a moment the person hesitated, but then deciding they had no option knocked, first timidly and then with increasing firmness. It seemed as if no one would answer and then a panel pulled back, revealing a suspicious servant.

‘Tell Lady Aria that the sword is still sharp,’ the cloaked figure gasped, her voice the high tones of a well bred young woman.

The servant disappeared and after a minute the door opened, the cloaked figure ushered quickly inside. Once through the door she found herself in a warm kitchen, a blessed reprieve from the chilly autumn air outside. Aside from the serving man was a truly immense woman in her late forties, who dominated the room by force of personality and sheer physical size.

Near six feet tall she was almost as big about the middle, explaining the unusually large doorway in the kitchen. Her cheeks were heavy and her soft chins multiple, the face of a woman who had not missed a meal in years. Black hair with a few streaks of grey hung down to her neck, the only accurate sign of her age. A long velvet robe hid much of the details of her figure, yet her size was undeniable. Her visitor could have the apron like hang of her bulging stomach as a bed. Meanwhile her immense breasts were clearly being supported by a brazier that could double as a knight’s armor, without them the steel reinforced bra they’d have gone down to where Lady Aria’s waist should have been. Her limbs were immensely thick and pillowy, her waddling gait could have been beaten by a crawling babe.

‘Princess Esme!’ the fat woman exclaimed, waddling forwards with every ounce of speed she could muster and clutching the smaller, young woman to herself, ‘How did you get out of that palace of despair?’

‘They’re drunk Lady Aria,’ the princess explained, pulling back her hair to reveal a face with blue eyes, high cheek bones, narrow chin and long, honey blonde hair, ‘all of them are comatose and piled upon one another in an orgy. Had we a hundred fighters we could take them all now.’

‘I wish we did girl, we’d pay those foreign bitches back for what they did to your father and what they’ve done to you,’ the obese noble woman said, ‘Osri, get the Princess something to eat and something better than that rag of a robe, she must be starving. I’m sure we have something of my daughter’s hidden away they haven’t stolen.’

‘Please, I’m not hungry Aria,’ Esme said in a hushed tone as the servant set about cooking, ‘Nor do I think any clothes of your daughter’s would fit me.’

‘Nonsense, surely you must be starving having been reduced to a servant. And you and Alia could have passed for twins,’ the older woman exclaimed, ‘I’m sure I have a dress of hers around.’

‘Could have,’ the princess insisted, ‘I’ve been in their clutches three months and they…well…they’ve been feeding me a little too well if anything.’

‘What do you mean girl?’ asked Aria, noting that the Princess’ cheekbones were a little less sharp than she remembered and that her chin hadn’t been quite so soft before her captivity.

‘Their Queen, Selene…’Esme began, finding it difficult to start, ‘she’s…ever since…I should start at the beginning…’

Her mind and voice went back to that frightful day in mid summer, when the Amazon horde had poured from the north in a surprise attack. Most of the army was gone, far to the east with her big sister Kara on crusade, leaving only a few to defend the kingdom. Her father had gathered what he could and made a fight outside the walls with his few knights, but the invaders had torn him apart. Esme had waited terrified in the castle’s throne room, waiting to surrender when Selene strode in.

The Amazon was clearly contemptuous of the three remaining guards, of the high walls, of the civilization she had taken, of, well everything. And how could she not be? Esme was considered quite fetching and regal, but she was small and skinny, her figure still quite girlish despite having reached her 19th year. Selene on the other hand, was something carved by a goddess.

Her conqueror’s skin was as bronze as the scanty pieces of armor that barely covered her modesty, tanned and darkened by a life spent outdoors. Above the Queen’s knee high leather boots muscles rippled up the length of her legs, quite the longest and shapeliest limbs Esme had ever seen. They were legs that could run for miles and miles without tiring or when wrapped about a man break his spine with a flex. Selene’s exposed hips had the full womanly roundness the skinny Esme longed for, yet the way they flexed with each step spoke that their shape was almost entirely from muscle instead of fat.

Had she not been so terrified, Esme would have felt jealous and even a tad lustful of the Amazon’s chest. Barely contained inside bronze plates, they were a massive set of mammaries that Esme wouldn’t have been able to cup with both hands. Esme’s older sister Kara was noted to be quite blessed in the pectoral region, but she was put to shame by this magnificent rack, her sibling’s D cups both smaller and saggier than the Amazon’s. Selene’s stomach also lacked the small paunch that Kara had always had, a perfect collection of abdominals, lats and obliques displayed for all to gaze at. It should have been suicide to be in a battle with one’s stomach exposed, but the muscles gave an impression of being stronger than steel. The Queen’s face was breathtaking, a perfect oval dominated by full pouty lips, green eyes and long red hair. Esme was about to formally surrender, but the invader cut her off.

‘All of you but the girl, leave us,’ commanded Selene, dismissing the few palace servants that had not already fled to the hills, ‘sister’s bring me a platter…a big one.’

Both of the other women grinned evily and vanished towards the kitchens, Esme cringing as they went. She’d heard and read stories of the barbaric northern women, how they would ravish any soft southern girl they seized. When she’d perused them Esme had been titillated, amused and aroused, but now that it was about to actually happen to her it was terrifying.

‘A southern girl,’ the Amazon mused, walking around the captive princess, green eyes running up and down Esme’s tight white dress, ‘slim as a rail and with less curves as well. I’d always heard you civilized ladies were soft, but look at you, you haven’t got an ounce of fat on you! Such a disappointment and the first thing we’ll change.’

‘Please,’ mewled Esme, ‘I surrender…’

‘And you shall not be harmed,’ the Queen said evily, sitting down upon the vacant throne and throwing her firm legs idly over one arm, ‘not a hair on your head shall be touched and you won’t be starved a minute. Although you will need new clothes and be worked hard as my personal servant. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you have plenty of food.’

In came the Queen’s guards, pushing a kitchen cart piled high with food: breads, pastries, sweet meats, fried potatoes and cold bacon, candied nuts and preserved fruits, even a few vegetables! It was a platter meant to serve an entire table of guests and seemed as large as Esme herself. A chair was with it, clearly for Esme herself.

‘Eat child, you look hungry,’ the Queen commanded, her eyes shining with lust and waved the guards away.

Esme could have argued, could have protested. Her older sister would have refused, would have fought back and tried to escape. But Kara was taller and heavy set instead of short and lean and she had been taught to fight as well as any knight, while Esme had learned the harp and calligraphy. So she ate and ate, her small stomach rapidly filling with food. She ate until she felt like vomit and had to take off her belt, she kept eating until it felt like a spear was in her stomach, until she couldn’t move her arms but to cradle herself on her seat. At the end she looked like she was heavy with child, her belt on the floor and the seams of her food soiled dress fit to burst. Only a tenth of the food was gone, the rest Esme couldn’t even hope to reach.

All the while Selene had been watching, having cast aside her breast plate and cod piece so that her hands could go to her loins and her breasts. She’d fondled and teased herself the entire time, pacing out the pleasure until just when her captive could take no more. Then the Amazon had climaxed, screaming and writhing on the throne for half a minute until she collapsed to the floor. For several minutes she lay prostrate, gasping and moaning, vulnerable as a babe had anyone not crippled with food been there to slay her. But Esme could barely move herself and was too shocked by what she had witnessed, the first sexuality of someone else in her guarded life. Finally the Queen stood, shaky on her feet.

‘Up servant,’ she commanded, ‘up and clean up your filth. Then bring my armor to your father’s room, you’ll need to clean his blood off it.’

‘Every day since has been like that,’ Esme finished, her voice cold, ‘she commands me to stuff myself like a pig, while she watches and fondles herself. Sometimes it’s a few times a day, each time I must eat until she goes. Often she’ll call me names, ‘piggy’ or ‘fatty’ or ‘sow.’ I hate her, I should take up the cutlery and cut her down while she’s prone but I’m too afraid, the guards would tear me apart even if I succeeded.’

‘Let me see,’ Aria commanded, her eyes moist at the tale.

‘What?’

‘They’ve fattened you up girl, I can tell and I’m working on a plan to get revenge for you, but I’ll need to see first,’ the obese woman explained.

‘I…alright, what harm is it? You nursed me as a babe after all,’ the princess sighed, gently pulling away her robe.

Three months of over eating had clashed up against a youthful metabolism and an increase in manual labor, while the indulgement had clearly won its victory had been slowed at least by a valiant defense. Beneath the robe, the pale woman wore a tiny ensemble the Amazons had forced her into: a small white bra and tiny white panties hacked out of her old dresses, already overly revealing it was made worse because they barely fit her either. Aria knew a bit about weight gain and could tell that Esme had put on nearly thirty pounds, going from girlish to dangerously voluptuous.

Esme’s once washboard flat belly was now a soft pooch, a few inches of pinchable softness belted around her once tiny waist. Small love handles likewise graced the royal sides, hanging over the band of her panties and merging with hips that had spread quite a bit in each direction. Silvery, whispy stretch marks were on her hips and across her once flat butt, which become a much larger protuberance with a few small patches of cellulite. Esme’s skinny legs had thickened up, her soft thighs touched at the top and there was an unflattering thickness about her calves. Less eye catching perhaps but just as important, the girl’s once visible ribs and hip bones had vanished.

Lastly and this was certainly the only good thing to Esme about her forced weight gain, her breasts had taken more than their fair share the burden so far and strained against their skimpy barrier. Once small mosquito bites, they had surged forth, greedily sucking up every spare calorie. Although not quite as large as her big sister, the Princess had a sizable rack and for the moment her youth was giving it a fair bit of perk in comparison to where they would have been if she was a few years older. But Aria could tell through the thin fabric that the princess’ nipples had gotten stretched and now pointed downwards instead of up, indicating that with every pound those tits would start to sag. Had she not known of the Princess’ circumstances, Lady Aria would have assumed she’d have had a baby a few months earlier and had been unable to lose the last of the weight.

‘I look terrible, I’ve gotten disgusting,’ Esme whimpered, closing the robe back about herself in shame.

‘You still look wonderful Esme, but you are different,’ Aria said, placing a heavy hand on the Princess’ shoulder, ‘I’m not going to lie, you’ve fattened up a good deal and even under the best circumstances I doubt it will come off and stay off. And unfortunately, these aren’t the best circumstances.’

‘But you said there wasn’t much food left,’ Esme exclaimed, ‘and of course I’ll help with anything I can Lady Aria, I won’t lounge about eating.’

‘Esme, you can’t stay here,’ Aria said sadly, ‘once the Amazons shake off their hangover, they’ll tear the city apart for you. You’re both a symbol of resistance, a hostage for the city’s behavior and against your sister’s return and a toy of their queen. They’ll find you and burn this house to the ground.’

‘Then I’ll run,’ the Princess exclaims, ‘I’ll escape into the night, I’ll go south and find Kara!’

‘Esme…you can’t run,’ Aria said sadly, sitting the girl down at the table, her own chair groaning under her immense weight, ‘tonight’s probably the first time you’ve been outside the palace without an escort of knights, you’ve never bought food, let alone steal it. You can’t fight, you can’t hide a trail or navigate. The last time you ran was probably playing tag as a little girl. You wouldn’t have been able to get a few miles even before the Amazons started fattening you up, its less than a mile from the palace and you were panting outside my door. You’ll have to sneak back.’

‘But…I thought you could help me…’Esme gasped, tears of hurt in her eyes.

‘And I will girl, but…its going to take a little time. Gods know if this was ten years ago I’d lead you out of the city right now, if it was twenty I’d march up to the palace, kick in the door and start slaying till there were none of those harlots left. But now girl…the stairs are too much for me, let alone an army of Amazons, drunken or not. But I’ve got a plan, a good one already. You can’t run no, but if you can sneak out again on the next full moon and come back her, then together we can make it so that that bitch Selene gets what she deserves.’

‘Are we going to poison her?’ Esme asked.

‘No…no we’re going to do much worse than that. Since she enjoys seeing you eat so much,’ Aria grinned, ‘we’re going to make that vain, skinny little bitch fat beyond her wildest dreams.’

[zachi]

As usual well written, can't wait for more

[dog186]

Great as usual. Love all your stories. Great mix of actual plot with some great gaining scenarios and descriptions

[zachi]

any update?