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7 minutes ago, Batman76 said:

filler, hold on.

 

7 minutes ago, Batman76 said:

filler, hold on.

Chapter 7: Confession
 
'...no...no...I can't...not anymore,' Sia gasped, sprawling back, laying on her side upon the bench with her hands cradled about her stomach.
 
Her arms and legs were starveling thin, while the bones of her face seemed ready to cut the skin. Bereft of muscle, her ribs stuck out and her collarbone was clearly visible. But her stomach...
 
'I'm going to burst,' the paladin moaned, 'oh Io, why did I eat that.'
 
Sia looked down, past her flattened breasts to her stomach. Upon awakening, her shrunken belly had been concave, so small and free of fat her weakened abdominal muscles had been clear to see as when the Paladin was at her peak fitness before the spring tournament. Now though...
 
'If you're finished, I'll nibble on your plate,' Mor'wen smiled.
 
'Take it, oh God I'll never eat again,' the knight whined, 'why...'
 
Mor'wen had summoned each of them a plate sized pile of desert: fist sized clusters of walnuts wrapped around a large strawberry, the entire thing encased in sticky, partly carmelized honey. The short Nymph, who had already eaten enough meat, vegetables and fruit for two large men to feel sickened had begun delicately consuming them as if they were appetizers and not as if her belly, previously a bit paunchy was so bloated she was having to sit farther away from the table.
 
Sia was not a large fan of desert, a decadent treat of the nobility. Paladins ate simply, sticking to oaths of austerity and temperance. That did not mean they ate little, Sia's long repertoire of daily exercises and hard muscles required quite a bit of fuel to maintain, but that they lived simply, disdaining sweets.
 
'You'll need to eat quite a bit to get strong again,' Mor'wen reminded, awkwardly shuffling and trying to find a way to get comfortable, while her bloated waist strained the threads on her singular remaining button, 'so I imagine unless you wish to remain a scarecrow you'll need to continue eating on the morrow.'
 
'Please, kill me now,' Sia grunted, rubbing her stomach in hopes of easing the discomfort and failing, 'Gods of the pantheon, I'm tearing through this dress.'
 
It was a bit of an exaggeration, Sia wasn't tearing through the strong spider silk but the new slope of her over stuffed waistline had pushed the smooth fabric up enough to expose her private places and navel. The Paladin never wore feminine clothes, her position as king's champion required her to be ready to fight at all times but even if she had she wouldn't have picked something so scandalously short, it exposed her long legs totally even before her food baby had ballooned out. She felt a tinge of shame in being so exposed, even though Mor'wen was nearly as nude and had seen her naked before when caring for her. 
 
'Hmm, it is one of my spring dresses. I'm surprised you can fit into it now honestly, I'm a twig when the snow's melt,' the plumply plush fae giggled, munching on another nut cluster, 'but we should be a bed soon. Snow falls thick outside and I tire.'
 
Mor'wen gingerly slid her legs over the side of her bench. She had the over filled ball of her stomach in both small hands, her nimble fingers rubbing it with clearly practiced skill. Every movement Sia had previously seen had been perfectly graceful, the actions of a master dancer, but the stuffed nymph was clearly discomforted by her own gluttony. She rolled back and forth on her hips, aided by the pull of her strange animated hair, before rocking forwards and standing up with a bit of difficulty, like a pregnant woman.
 
'Up with you,' the fae ordered Sia, 'you need rest as well. Tomorrow you should begin walking a bit to start getting your stamina back, but until you've padded out a little my love, no running, lifting or sword play for you for you.'
 
Mor'wen leaned over, slowly, and ran the tips of her fingers over Sia's stomach, the long nails leaving five lines of pleasure on her pale skin. The Aasimar looked up at her and realized that the fae' strange eyes were literally glowing with a joy of her own. It was the same lust Sia had felt from watching the soft sashay of the Nymph's hips and the bounce of her breasts, but lacking any sense of shame.
 
'And of course, once you're up to it we can have some pleasurable one on one sparring,' the nymph smiled, 'we are bound after all, my love.'
 
My love. Bound. Liberator. The fae kept using words like that and at first, Sia had been convinced that the nymph was using them metaphorically. That she was speaking with flowery language. 
 
But as Mor'wen watched her, Sia doubted it was metaphorical. With a grunt, the paladin sat up, standing shakily on her stiff, weakened legs.
 
'...Why why do you keep saying things like that?' Sia told her, 'We've...we've just met and I appreciate your help and care but...you say that I liberated you, that you were exiled and now we're bound. What do you mean ...you look at me...like...'
 
Mor'wen smiled, 'like you keep starring at me? Although I will say that you're a bit bony for my taste, but that's not you're fault. When I say bound I mean it, I was exiled here for a century and only my heart's love, a prince of the Alvini could release me.'
 
'I...I'm not a prince,' Sia stammered, heart pounding harder than it ever had in battle, 'and I haven't been...no I cannot lie, I shouldn't have been staring at you.'
 
'Well, the exact word was scion I believe, but our tongue is a strange one, even I was confused' the nymph giggled, 'I'll teach you later on. And while I was a little shocked when I removed your armor and found that you getting me pregnant would take some creativity, well, you are very easy on the eyes, brave to foolhardiness, dutiful and self sacrificial. I wonder...are you generous too?
 
Mor'wen leaned slowly forwards, invading the Paladin's personal space until she was barely an inch from Sia. The smell of fresh roses permeated the air.
 
Sia couldn't look at Mor'wen and felt faint, ready to fall over. She turned her head to the side, trying to breathe. Every lesson of the Cult of Io said this was wrong, one of the decadent games bored noble women played when their husbands were gone.
 
'You're a woman ...and...and I'm a woman...,' she stammered, heart thundering in her ears, 'and I am an oath sworn paladin...the cult says that I...'
 
'In that case there will be no clean up or worrying about how things fit together,' Mor'wen smiled, 'And a paladin? Good, you will not stray then will you? You really are lovely. You're pure as a snowflake and innocent as a lamb. What fun we'll have together...'
 
Sia felt her legs trembling and her slit was sopping wet. Her back shivered and she looked back at Mor'wen and fell into the orange depths of her eyes. The nymph's strange, mobile locks wrapped around Sia's thin wrist, putting her bony fingers across the nymph' soft chest, just above her heavy breasts, so Sia could feel her soft, steady heartbeat, while Mor'wen's soft fingers went against Sia's bony chest.
 
'My my, you're heart is beating like a race horse,' the nymph smiled, 'are you...excited? Because I know I am.'
 
 Before she knew what was happening, Sia lunged forwards. As a first kiss went it was  far from perfect, but her lips mostly found Mor'wen's mouth. The nymph closed her eyes, adjusting her head so their lips matched more easily and moved her jaw slightly,  holding the kiss firmly until Sia broke it.
 
'Io forgive me..., I'm sorry,' the paladin stammered, near fainting, 'I shouldn't have...'
 
'No, you certainly should have. I'm happy, you're happy and there's nothing wrong about that. Don't worry, you'll improve,' Mor'wen smiled, 'I'm a century out of practice as it is. But that's enough excitement for now, we've both eaten a bit too much for comfort, the snow is falling outside and I need rest. Let's get you to bed.'
 
Sia walked back down the stairs, her legs cramping a bit as she went. The Nymph was moving gracefully, but incredibly slowly, hands still rubbing her own swollen stomach. When at last they reached the chamber Sia had awoken in, the Nymph laid down beside her, snuggled close beneath the warm furs.
 
Tired as she was, it took the knight a long time to sleep.
 
 
 
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Lol, posted chapters out of order!

Chapter 8: the hunt

Three Weeks after the King's Death:

Mor'wen woke up contented, which was a shame.

'Goddess of green growth we need to fuck each other,' the auburn haired fae sighed and yawned, 'Sia love, are you awake?'

The Paladin was gone, as she had been every morning when the nymph awoke for the past week. Mor'wen's orange eyes had snapped open in her mirrored bed chamber. Humans were so baffling, it was barely afternoon and Sia would probably have been up for hours. Yawning, blinking sleep from her eyes, the glamorous exile pushed her fur blankets away and stood up from the low bed of feather and pelts. Lightning the room up, Mor'wen feasted her eyes upon herself in a hundred reflections of various sizes:

Long auburn hair, down to her knees.

Darkly tan skin, brown as a nut and free of blemish, mark, stain, scar or cellulite.

A foxy, sharp chinned heart face with a long, upturned nose, only slightly softened.

Delicate, graceful, slim and slightly soft arms.

Big, tear drop breasts that looked simultaneously heavy and firm, their nipples large and pink, not sagging but weighty.

A gently rounded paunch, narrow in comparison to her chest, with small pinchable love handles and a very high waist, that just barely tapered to give her a barely hour glass shape.

Round, womanly hips, child bearing hips, in their center a velvety pink pussy beneath a tiny tuft of red hair.

A wide, but shallow pair of perfectly smooth buttocks

Relatively long legs for her short height, shapely and firm with the promise of spring but still soft with fall's excess.

'I'm about to wilt,' Mor'wen groaned, hefting her tits and seeing if they were smaller.

Thanking the green goddess her grandmother but her bust line was still at its peak, still as large and full as they'd ever been. She lost from them last usually, so she moved down to her belly. The autumnal bulge was still soft and pliable, several inches of excess all around her. It hadn't shrank from when she'd flaunted it to Sia in the bathing pool a week earlier, but for the first time in months it hadn't grown. It was a plateau that would soon lead to a sharp, down wards decline.

'My legs are getting thinner, I'm sure they're getting thinner, ' she sighed, dancing from foot to foot and watching her thighs jiggle.

They were jiggling a little less than a week ago. Taking some practice steps gave a pleasurable rasp of silky skin, but it lasted a heart beat less than before. Always delicate ankles were looking slimmer, although as yet there was no definition at all. Experimentally, Mor'wen began to dance a spring dance, her feet shifting, legs kicking, arms twisting and her hips gyrating, belly shaking and tits bouncing in a chaotic, random dance of flawless grace, looking like she'd practiced it a hundred times with no hesitation or misstep. It was a late spring rhythm, one done at the peak of grace, when bodies slimmed fatless by spring had just recovered their strength but hadn't added any of summer's bulk to slow oneself down. She piroutted, spun for long minutes and ended it with a flip, landing on her arched toes.

Breathing heavily, Mor'wen put her hands on her knees and gasped in air. Her lungs burned, her weakened thighs screamed and sweat pooled on her brow. Her body still bore the heavy weight of the laziest, most decadent autumn she'd ever seen, three months of feasting the fat of the land. She was perfectly suited to the slow, hip shaking, belly and breast flaunting fall dances, meant to end in slow sex, not the mad athleticism of spring and its orgies.

But she'd been able to do it, when a week earlier even her inhuman grace would have failed.

'Damn I'm going to get...in shape,' the fae woman hissed, as if announcing she had leperosy, 'a week ago I'd have been flat on my back.'

She snatched up her clothes, put her feet into a soft pare of slippers and flounced from the room. Part of her didn't know what she was angry about, losing weight was part of the point of winter. You slept, the bulk of fall feeding your body for weeks at a time until you needed to get up and use the bathroom or drink water, when the last snow within twenty miles melted you awoke at last: flat bellied, slim legged, small breasted, your ribs and collar bone showing, at your weakest. But only then could new growth begin, could you start to grow stronger again.

The nymph had never liked it, never craved it like her sister Var'wen the lady of spring who desired to awaken fatless and ravenous, but every winter for five hundred years before, the Nymph had fallen asleep on the first snow and been unaware of the process. Now though she was feeling the slow decay and furious at it, because she desired to be awake.

'Damned human, is this why mother cursed me so?' Mor'wen hissed quietly as she sashayed angrily into the poo chamber past her lover's sword, sitting aside the clothes and plunging in with a splash, 'can't she just sleep all winter like sane people do?'

Mor'wen had been forcing herself to get up, using one of her few available spells to force herself up for an excruciating six hours a day. As a result she was tired and cranky, the sole bright point getting to spend time with her beloved. The bashful paladin was slowly learning how to kiss under her tutelage, although she was still ashamed and guilt ridden. That would take time for her to get over and that at least was worth Mor'wen's time.

After bathing, almost angrily and not erotically at all, the nymph dressed quickly, tying on a pair of silk panties with leather laces, a short cotton dress that was tight against her curves and throwing on her robe over it. While the dress pressed pleasingly against her belly, she didn't even want to try seeing how many buttons she could get fastened on it and left it open, her still damp nipples making the dress transparent.

Finding her new fiance took time, the knight wasn't stuffing her face or wrapping her long arms around Mor'wen's form, where she should be. But Mor'wen managed to find the paladin in the third place she looked, the high viewing galleries at the very top of the halls. An attempt to calm herself was worn down by the burning in her thighs from climbing so many stairs, the plump nymph rarely entered the galleries after her thighs had started growing. The room was long, with wide bare walls and supported by great pillars. Artists were supposed to have painted it with numerous scenes depicting the union of men and fae, but the betrayal had made that plan be abandoned.

She took a breath and saw Sia standing in front of a pillar, taking slow careful steps back wards and forwards, her arm rising and cutting like she held a sword. Her step was less hesitant than before and quicker, a week of the hall's feeding had put a thin layer of fat across her wasted frame: her collar bone didn't pop out as much and her face was less gaunt. Very slender still, but perhaps not about to drop from hunger. Sadly, the nymph noticed her magnificent legs weren't on display, the knight was in a long skirt that went down to her calves and one of Mor'wen's red blouses that was too short for her. The belly partly displayed was round, a hard food baby bulge pressing down against the leather belt.

'The skirt isn't for you,' Mor'wen called, watching Sia turn  mid stride, 'but I think that the blouse looks good on you.'

The Paladin saw her and her blue eyes couldn't help but dart to the Nymph's still heaving breasts. Caught, smiled and managed to not fully blush.

'Afternoon, and I agree,' the Paladin said, picking up the skirt, exposing her thin calves, 'I appreciate the clothes, but I don't prefer dresses if it can be avoided.'

'Yes, they don't show off your legs well enough at all,' the fae yawned, exposing her white teeth and walking over to Sia.

The knight smiled and blushed at the compliment, fully this time, 'and why do you like the blouse?'

'Because it shows off that you've been eating like you're supposed to,' Mor'wen grinned stalking closer and pulling the knight in for another kiss, 'and not sneaking off to exercise.'

Sia returned the kiss, with only slight hesitation before she stood up. The taller, thinner woman put a hesitant hand on her stomach, a prominent bowling ball of a food baby that showed the night had chowed down during the breakfast Mor'wen had slept through.

'The food here is very good,' Sia admitted, 'it served me quail for lunch, it was fantastic.'

'I slept through lunch too!' Mor'wen groaned, 'ugh, I'm going to waist away to nothing by spring time.'

'Some how I doubt that,' the paladin smiled.

'Oh trust, me when we go into human lands everyone we see will be complimenting my skinny waist,' the plump fae insisted, then grabbed Mor'wen's hand, 'come, eat lunch with your love.'

'But I just ate lunch,' the knight protested.

'And did some lunges, so another pile of quail meat will be good for you!'

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Chapter 9: The Queen's choice

Four weeks after the King's Death.
 
Queen-Regent Regina bounced up and down, flexing her toned thighs as she moaned. Beneath her the High Priest of Io grunted and groaned, his immense arms straining so hard against the pair of silver shackles at the corners of the Queen's bed that every vein and tendon stood out and his own hips driving his member deep into her pussy in rhythm with her bounces. He had a good sized cock, large enough to make her tremble but not enough to hurt her. Regina focused on the pleasure, trying to shut out the other sensations on her body.
 
Like the faint jiggle that made its way across her ass whenever her hips smacked down. Or the tiny crease that formed along the bottom of her belly as his load came into her and she bent. Or the way her flawless tear drop breasts now fully filled her hands as she tweaked them.
 
Regina let herself collapse down onto Fin, breathing heavily as he wilted. Her clit tingled, demanding the release of orgasm but for now she let the pleasurable button rest. But the rest of her body was sore, exhausted, and demanding a rest, while her stomach grumbled loudly in protest. She tried ignoring the stomach pain, focused on running her well manicured nails over the bulging pectorals of the high priest. He spent many hours a day at weapons training and it showed on his splendid body. The self denial of his religion had a spectacularly good effect at least, even if he had abandoned some of its higher ethics.
 
'Does your appetite know no ends?' Io-Servant joked tiredly as the Queen-Regent's belly let out another groan. 
 
'Only for the rightful rule of the nation,' Regina grumbled, sliding off the impressive hulk of a man.
 
She took a key from the bedside table and began unlocking his shackles. Very consciously, she sucked in the slight bulge across her belly as to not show any evidence of the weight gain caused by her lack of self control. Regina let out a Yelp of surprise as the younger man's freed hands gave her hip a playful slap.
 
'Nothing for you today?' Fin asked her, 'It's not like you to deny yourself pleasure.'
 
'No, we took too much time in this 'confession' as it is,' Regina sighed to herself, 'there's a court dinner with some of the heads of the merchant guilds today. Tedious but their votes can get that fat slob Agia out of the treasurer position. I need to bathe and prepare myself for it mentally before I dress.'
 
The priest freed, Regina strode barefoot across the thick woven carpets of her opulent bed chamber. It was a huge room: with twin hearths blazing with alchemical fires, a four poster feather bed big enough for five, a five foot deep marble tub with its own heated piping system, gilt framed mirror seven feet high and four wide, cabinets of perfumes, lotions and soaps from half the world away and closets large as houses and filled with enough silk and cotton for a small army to be dressed exquisitely.
 
Regina looked at herself in the mirror, noting that her hair was tousled and tangled and worse that she looked tired with slight circles under her eyes. Her second regency was more stressful than the first: Agia was resisting attempts to be replaced and the commons were grumbling about the absence of the King's bride.
 
Naked, the Queen slid onto a stool, shivering in disgust at the slight spread of her ass across the polished treant wood. Picking up a mother of pearl brush, she began running the unicorn mane bristles across her hair. Regina let herself lose herself in the repeating gesture, trying to stifle the grumbling from her stomach.
 
She hadn't been comfortable in days, not since the necessary burst of power that had thickened her waist. Regina hadnt needed to use her power in years, not without a way to later remove the resulting fat and had kept herself at a svelte hundred and eighteen pounds since the death of her husband. Rail thin with slender legs and delicate arms, but with a small bust and a round rear end for her custom fit gowns to cling too. Mostly it was through long walks in gardens, hard rides and a strict diet.
 
But with a punishing early winter already coating the ground with snow outside, riding and walking was out of the question. And the sheer amount of work running the kingdom was...she knew it would subside once Agia was pushed from power and Winst was slain, with her own treasurer and Mage in their place, but not now. Now was the difficult time.
 
Regina cast a glare at her figure. She couldn't see her lower ribs or the outline of her pelvis through the thin layer of fat, even with her stomach sucked in and her breasts were certainly bigger. She even had a woman's mound now, a little circle of fat about her belly button. Her age defying maiden's breasts were looking lower, the small areoles wider by a hair's breadth. Worse, there were small, silhouette ruining little bulges of fat above her hips that blared inferiority out to anyone who could see. She was eating only two light meals a day but the fat would take more than that to banish away.
 
'You were magnificent by the way,' the high priest told her, twisting his immense neck back and forth with a series of heavy pops, 'almost perfect.'
 
'Almost?' Regina asked, watching in the mirror as he approached her.
 
'As close as mortal can be,' he smiled, kissing her neck and running calloused hands down Regina's sides.
 
Regina felt her skin tingle and her body shiver for a moment. Until the High Priest's palms rested on the small love handles. He gave a small, gentle squeeze and began tracing her stomach which she realized with horror was relaxed. The pleasure immediately ceased, replaced with shame which turned into anger.
 
'Hands to yourself,' she said, smacking his knuckles with her brush.
 
Io-Servant grinned and flicked the sting away with his hand, 'I'm merely trying to appreciate your beauty.'
 
'Appreciate it by giving me Sia Alvini's head on a platter,' the Queen suggested, 'have your agents found her yet?'
 
'No, but it will take time. Winter is early and harsh this year,' the priest shrugged, 'and the King's army was far away when it was destroyed. It will take time for them just to get to the battle.'
 
'Well let them hurry, the last thing this kingdom needs is that little bitch showing up with the ring of Alvini,' Regina glared, 'restarting the civil war and throwing us into chaos.'
 
'I know,' Fin relented, 'Paladin she may be, but the kingdom's best hope for survival lies in you retaking a stable rule...until well, you can have our child."
 
'And strong he will be,' Regina noted, 'now, I have appointments and you have work. We have little time, we must be married and I must be pregnant soon. Return tomorrow for my next confession if you would, I'm sure I'll sin repeatedly by then.'
 
the High priest smiled and departed, leaving Regina alone with herself. She sighed, letting the her belly relax into its hideous little pooch. She ran her fingers over its disgustingly soft surface and hesitantly pinched it, feeling like she could vomit.
 
It was getting bigger, she was sure of it. There'd been several banquets she couldn't miss and with snow thick on the ground, her favored long rides and garden walks were out of the question. She'd had to eat some feast fare just to seem polite and it was sticking, Regina knew it. The many maids had begun having difficulty lacing her into her tight outfits and it was no temporary bloating either, the fat was staying and growing. She was certain the servants were giggling to themselves about it, at how Queen Regina was running to seed. 
 
'Why won't you leave me alone?' Regina hissed at her fat, standing up and pacing over to the tub and letting it run, "all I want is perfection!?'
 
Then, because she was alone, the Queen took a small pair of spectacles from their hiding place in the vanity. Her vision had been dimming for years, but Regina would never  allow herself to be seen with them in public nor too squint and deepen her wrinkles. And they were deepening, the crows feet sank their talons deeper each day and she was sure she had new frown lines beside her lips and faint cracks across her forehead. She carefully looked over her platinum blonde hair and was unable to stop herself from frowning at seeing one long silver strand and several others in the roots. She was certain they hadn't been there before.
 
An average woman of forty five would have been thrilled at only a little belly softness, some slight lines and a handful of grey hairs, but Regina was appalled. Two weeks ago at her son's funeral, in a beautiful black gown that fit perfectly to her perfect figure, an unknowing observer might have assumed she was thirty but it seemed she had several years since then. Clearly well preserved, but not fresh perhaps.
 
"You're getting old," the queen sighed at the spectacled reflection of an aging, softening beauty, gorgeous but not to compete with the smooth faced, wasp waisted young beauties of court who could laugh without worries of wrinkles and eat a heavy meal without worrying about it sticking to her belly, 'it's the stress, it's making the potion weaker. And as you age, the fat is harder to lose, isn't it?'
 
Regina sighed, opening a hidden compartment in the vanity. Inside it were several items: a heavy bag of silver powder, a dozen black candles, her favored mystic jewelry to burgeon her powers and finally, a small vial of red liquid. The last was almost empty, but had a single sip left in it. She would need a refill soon, which would cost her. The powers she served were happy with what she had done and Regina was high in their esteem, but delighted in making even their most loyal servants pay for minor favors.
 
'Waist or face, waist or face,' Regina sighed, sliding on her jewels, 'I have to choose between my waist and face. There's always a choice isn't there?'
 
Four heavy rings slid on easily, the beautiful gold and platinum bands studded with jewels arranged in patterns that would make the eye hurt if stared at too long. Around her neck was a heavy silver chain, hanging from it was a black diamond large as a baby's fist, her betrothal gift from her long dead husband. Regina had carved the diabolic wards into it's facets with great care, just as she had warded the waist chain of tiny silver links that she put around her waist. The Queen pulled on the cold metal, aiming to link it and finding it needed half an inch more than it had to get around her stomach.
 
'Damn it all,' Regina hissed, carefully tugging on it and remembering when it had fit perfectly.
 
The Queen had prided herself on keeping a 22 inch waist since she'd come of age, interrupted only by the horrible sow figure she'd had when pregnant and occasional upticks caused by a charm spell. Ridding her self of that had cost much, but Regina had been cunning enough to sacrifice something she wanted rid of anyway. Now though, this stubborn middle age spread had surely added an inch of softness. She sucked in her belly and was able to fit the chain around it, but didnt' dare relax.
 
'I hate this, I hate getting fat, I hate getting old,' Regina groaned to herself, summoning magic and feeling the mana coil in readiness as she began, tumbler of red liquid poised in her fingers, 'Spirits of lust, spirits of hellfire, spirits of malice and envy, spirits of the diabolic whore! Hear my voice and return me to perfection once more.'
 
Regina downed the small mouthful of potion, feeling it's power suffuse her body. She prepared her spells, having to make a decision on what horrible malignity to heal: a slight weight gain or early middle age? A belly bulge or crows feet? Grey hairs or a thigh gap? The choice was hard, she had enough power to make herself thinner at the cost of aging or younger at the cost of gaining.
 
 But what to pick? What would get the most titters? What would be the easiest to hide?
 
'Youth,' Regina sighed, feeling ready to vomit, 'make me younger.'
 
Power suffused Regina's body and she felt a weight lifted off her shoulders as fifteen years of aging vanished. Opening her eyes, she saw with sharp vision how her platinum blonde hair seemed to glow with potency. The slight sag of her breasts eased as they returned to maiden's pertness, the crows feet filled in and her forehead smoothed out. Once more she had the face of a younger woman, she'd need a whole bottle to assume that form again, but one of thirty at most. Regina felt a greater energy in her muscles, a rise in her metabolism, strength and stamina.
 
'Yes...yes...,' the Queen hummed, then shivered.
 
Her belly gurgled, the pain of self denial becoming the pain of absolute starvation. The jewels kept her body from instantly plumping as she cast, but it was merely a delay. Visions of succulent food danced in Regina's eyes: roast fowl stuffed with bread, butter seared steak by the pound, mountains of creamy potatoes studded with cheese and smothered in gravy, trays of tarts, plates of pie, towers of cakes. Regina salivated, drool going down her replumped lips, at the thought of the heavy meal being prepared for her banquet with the merchant guild leaders and their wives.
 
Rich men grew lazy and heavy, showing their wealth by the groans of their banquet tables. Regina had always sneered at merchant's wives, who grew fatter and rounder than any self respecting noble woman would ever let themselves get, their low class sensibilities unable to exercise any sort of self control around the food of the upper class and were generally two hundred pounds by thirty. But today, even the High Pork Merchant's gluttonous second wife and former mistress, a prized courtesan who's plumpening curves were flowing out of her new garish dresses with all the food she could now afford, would be up showed by the usually reserved Queen.
 
Regina knew she'd struggle merely not to make a scene of herself tonight. Always it was this, when she regained youth in exchange for weight. Her appetite would rise and her self control would fall, she'd eat like a pig until in exchange for every lost year she'd gain a pound. If she didn't, then the backlash could make her a toothless crone. Only after the needed weight was gained would her appetite would return to normal and she could begin losing the wobbling poundage, aided by her youthful metabolism. It had happened before, but she'd successfully put it off for several years.
 
The Queen put away her jewels and rubbed her groaning gut, before ringing a bell. Near instantly, a servant appeared, a slim girl in a black maid's dress and stockings. Regina rarely remembered her servants name, it probably started with an S or something. The girl was about twenty, with pretty brown hair and shapely legs. Regina instantly hated her and wondered why she didn't hire heavier, older maids.
 
'Get me a plate of cookies, your queen is hungry,' Regina snapped as she walked towards the tub, feeling her thighs barely brush.
 
'Yes, Queen-Regent, whatever you say,' the girl, who's name was truly Tiania, nodded, ignoring the semen smeared on Regina's thighs, 'is there...anything else I can get you? A drink maybe?'
 
When first joining the regent's service, she'd been shocked by how often the older woman liked to flaunt her looks. Regina's beauty was famed and not exaggerated, Tiania could barely believe she maintained such a graceful figure and her heart fluttered every time the girl saw the glorious queen. Tiana knew she was lucky, the Queen only let the most glamorous and beautiful servant girls attend her, that their beauty, shallow though it was, could reflect her glorious looks.
 
'Hmmm, a glass of milk perhaps,' Regina said, sinking into the tub, 'and some buttered bread. And ...'
 
'yes?' Tiania asked, eager to serve.
 
'Tell my seamstresses to let my outfits out an inch,' the Queen stated, 'this time of grief is not one to hold back. I may gain weight as I mourn my son and assume the responsibilities of government, just a little.'
 
'Of course milady,' Tiana grinned.
 
If the queen would be eating more, it would mean Tiania would be more often in her presence! More chances to look at Regina's fabulous beauty. True, the regent had put on a little weight recently but it suited her well, it even made her look younger! She must be incredibly strong to hide her grief so well!
 
'Oh and before you go,' Regina said, casting an eye over the slim maid.
 
Hatred enveloped the queen. She would bloat and bulk just to stay thirty, while this idiot twenty year old commoner would be rail thin and twenty? The injustice!
 
'Get something for yourself, my order. You look gaunt,' Regina ordered, 'anytime I eat, I want all my maids eating too.'
 
'Of course, I could use a snack,' Tiania smiled, with the innocence of a lamb being led to slaughter.
 
Tiania had never had a weight problem before and worrying about growing plump didn't enter her head as she thought about what treat to pick out after getting the Queen her well earned snack.
 
Regina sprawled in the tub, rubbing the for now miniscule layer of fat over her growling tummy. She would need more potion, the gained youth would last only a year, perhaps less if things went poorly. And it might even be necessary to actually conceive and carry a child with the idiot high priest as he was led down the road to damnation, so she would have to stay young enough to not damage herself unduly.
 
'I will need to call upon the nine hells,' Regina sighed to herself.

 

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32 minutes ago, CyrilFiggus said:

I love how things are already difficult for Regina, and it's only been a month.  More usurper stories should be like that--they take power, only to realize that things are kind of going to hell in a hand basket.  All these little storylines are delightful, and I can't wait to see where they go!

They're going to nine hells in a hand-basket hehe

It's real fun reading Regina calculate how to fix her body as she tries to cover-up the mounting flaws of her own body. Kind of an analogy of how she handles governing, I think. I'm also curious if Mor'wen really will slim down for the winter -- and if this has negative consequences for Sia as she attempts to stretch her stomach.

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17 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

They're going to nine hells in a hand-basket hehe

It's real fun reading Regina calculate how to fix her body as she tries to cover-up the mounting flaws of her own body. Kind of an analogy of how she handles governing, I think. I'm also curious if Mor'wen really will slim down for the winter -- and if this has negative consequences for Sia as she attempts to stretch her stomach.

Yeah, I want Regina to typify robbing Peter to pay Paul, while trying to defer costs onto others with disastrous attempts on every one around her.

 

But that'll be after a bit...

 

Chapter 10: Punishment

Four Weeks after the King's Death...

'Today was the seventh time I've caught you exercising,' Mor'wen huffed, 'what shall I do with you my love?'

'I need to train, I may need to fight an army of devils with only you at my side,' Sia shrugged, 'I have no magic and have only my strength.'

'And it seems I have no ability to persuade you,' the nymph said flatly, 'none of my kisses have stopped me finding you shadow boxing and sparring every day. What can I do to persuade you?'

Mor'wen's wooden spoon dipped into a sugary, syrupy concoction of cherries boiled into a mash. So much fruit filled the spoon that it seemed the nymph struggled to pull it from the bowl and a thin line of red dripped from it. Her huge orange eyes locked onto the spoon with glee and her full, pouty lips yawned wide as she lifted it to her perfect, sharp teeth. The whole spoon somehow fit inside, the fae's eyes closing in pleasure and her mouth groaning as she swallowed. A thin red line of syrup bisected her chin and dripped down to the tan canyon of plush cleavage beneath her soft shoulders. Sia was unable to look away, the tip of her own tongue poking out as she thought of licking away the sweet liquid.

'Caught you peeking,' the nymph smiled, making Sia jump in her seat.

'Am I so obvious to you?' the Alvini bastard sighed, sitting back and rubbing her own sore stomach.

'When your eyes are as big as your stomach, yes, yes it is,' Mor'wen laughed, taking another bite.

'You've made me into a glutton,' the paladin grunted.

Upon being caught exercising yet again, Sia had been dragged by Mor'wen down to the dining chamber for Mor'wen's breakfast and Sia's second lunch. Under the nymph's umber glare, the recovering warrior was forced to down an entire plate of herb crusted salmon, a bowl of bacon wrapped quail and an entire bowl of candied cherries. She'd already been full from her first lunch, but had slowly, almost painfully gobbled down each item Mor'wen had summoned from the enchanted kitchens. The knight looked down past her small breasts, astounded at the enormity of her own consumption. Sia had been full when she'd started eating and bloated enough her skirt had needed readjusting, far from a warrior's figure but nothing compared to the turgid sphere that now filled her lap. It hurt, she felt like she was going to burst with each breath and she felt shame at having surrendered her discipline so severely.

'I hardly force fed you,' Mor'wen smiled, 'you ate every bite of that on your own.'

'Please do not remind me, my depravity knows no bounds,' the paladin grunted, her skinny body shifting as she tried to find some comfortable position.

Shortly before becoming the King's Champion, Sia had seen a respected cleric of the Cult of Io, a woman who had trained her in sword play and theology. The woman had volunteered to carry a child for the cult and been blessed with twins, having spent most of the pregnancy sequestered away and returning to the main cathedral only for a ceremony. Seeing the rotund woman, days from birth, swollen into an obese helplessness twice her old size, having to waddle with one hand in her lower back and another under her child swollen womb had left an impression on Sia, as had the woman's head sized, milk leaking breasts and wobbly double chin. She felt very like that woman now, only her transformation had taken but two meals and an inability to stand up to a five foot two woman and had resulted in her being near immobilized.

Goddess of valor, what had happened to her? This nymph, this leader of the fae had her wrapped around her finger. Did she have no will to say no? No shame at breaking the tenants of her upbringing by trading soft kisses with this monster in the shape of an over buxom maiden?

'Given that you haven't even touched my breasts, I'll disagree,' Mor'wen smiled, picking up her desert and sashaying over to Sia, 'you're still rather too up tight. You don't now how to let go of yourself, to relax and enjoy yourself. I grow frustrated, still you haven't ravaged me and you are too weak to survive me ravishing you until a few more weeks have passed. You should eat more, to grow stronger.'

'Please,' Sia deflected, 'I've been eating like a glutton since I awoke. This is already my third meal today.'

'Good, you're still far too slender. You don't look like you'll die going up the stairs, but your ass is paper flat and you don't even have breasts worthy of the name,' the nymph enchantressed stressed, 'your body needs to recover before you can begin exercising again.'

'I'll recover into plumpness eating like this,' Sia grumbled, 'especially without exercising.'

'Grumbling against my good advice? That's the last straw,' Mor'wen growled, sounding rather like a predatory cat, 'you've broke too many of the rules.'

'Rules?' Sia asked as Mor'wen got up, 'I thought you didn't have rules!'

'I said no exercise for a month,' the fae deflected, orange eyes glowing, 'and still I find you running through sword forms in the viewing galleries but grumbling when I grant you mercy? Do you want to injure yourself before the fight to come?'

The fae hadn't eaten as much as Sia. She'd still consumed a heavy meal, but there was quail and fish on her plate still and she'd eaten slower as well. Her clothes were still tight across full breasts and meal enhanced stomach but her exposed legs didn't jiggle quite as much when she stepped, looking more and more like a dancer's, her claims she'd slim down over winter were slowly coming true to an extent. Not weighed down by gluttony, Mor'wen advanced on the helpless Sia with a predatory grin. The Paladin felt a glimmer of fear and tried to push herself backwards, but her weakened muscles struggled to rise weighed down by her meal as she was.

'What...what are you doing?' Sia gasped  as Mor'wen put a foot on her couch.

'Finding a better seat,' the fae grinned, rather like a tiger as she slid her leg over Sia's and ever so slowly lowered herself to straddle the paladin, 'so i can thoroughly punish you.'

'You're in no place to punish me,' The paladin tried to return, 'I am King's Champion of all Savonna, veteran of a dozen pitched battles with the hell spawn, winner of three tournaments!'

'You. are. disobedient,' Mor'wen grinned, lowering herself down enough that her soft belly pressed against's Sia's hard packed one, 'and must be put in your place, reminded what a weak thing you've become. Withering though I am, you couldn't move me if you tried.'

The dark haired aasimar knew the other woman was correct. Her once corded arms were tiny, the biceps and triceps non existent, while the fae was despite her comments heavy, her strong, soft legs were pushing hard on Sia's narrow hips and the pain at Sia's waist was too hard to ignore.

'What are you going to do?' Sia asked, unsure of the fae's intentions.

Every one knew that the inhuman creatures were capricious and oft cruel. Was her supposed fiance about to put some curse on her? Would she awaken an aged crone or as some farm arnimal?

'Mortal, you have exhausted my thin patience. Now you will know why your ancestors feared the deep woods as you witness the full capriciousness and depth-less malice of a fae princess, her temper already roused by being awake in winter when everyone sane is abed' Mor'wen promised darkly, leaning in and running a tongue over her sparkling, sharp teeth, 'my love for you will not stop my hand, the kisses we shared will not slow my revenge. Weep now mortal because...'

Mor'wen leaned in, her heavy chest pressing against Sia's tiny breasts, until the two were nose to nose.

'I'm going to feed you,' Mor'wen smiled and kissed Sia hard, taking her by surprise and shoving a probing tongue into the knight's mouth, licking over Sia's teeth before sitting back up.

'What, did you think I'd turn you into a chair or something?' the nymph giggled, 'Green goddess, don't worry. I'm not a monster.'

Sia's mouth was open, a tempting target and the fae soon filled it with more cherries. Her spoon was a merciless weapon and Sia's treacherous jaw hung open, allowing the fae to shovel in the desert until the spoon clunked off the wooden bowl and the fae pitched the bowl over her shoulder. It tasted like sugar, like candy, like sweetness itself and Sia felt sick, like she'd explode. Her belly, previously the pinnacle of oversatiated guts, now swelled further and was making ominous groaning noises.

'Your overfull belly will not save you either,' Mor'wen glowered in mock anger, 'only one thing can save you, eating half a dozen more deserts!'

'I'll...ohhh my stomach hurts,' Sia groaned, 'I'll die, I'm too full...I'll pop...'

'Not yet,' Mor'wen laughed, near cackling like an old witch instead of an eternally young fae, 'my magic won't let you escape!'

The fae's hands pressed upon Sia's belly and began glowing green. Sia felt her stomach groan and churn, almost as if it was bubbling. Slowly Mor'wen applied more pressure and it began to shrink, pressing down as if it was clay being smoothed over until at last her waist was flat again. Well, not flat, two weeks of eating heavily with only walking and some slow form practice had made Sia's stomach soft, not fat by any means but untoned, with a slight pinchable mound around her navel.

'That meal is already in your body, resting on your weak little muscles, on your skinny legs and tiny arms, on your flat chest and deflated butt. I really liked how that butt looked when I first saw you by the way,' Mor'wen bragged with mock anger.

The paladin's belly grumbled, suddenly empty and angry about it. Mor'wen picked up another bowl off the table, a heavy bowl more like a livestock bucket and full of steaming cherries and syrup.

'Seven times you disobeyed me, so six more times you will be fed! Why must you press yourself?' Mor'wen giggled, 'why don't you just stay in bed? Your belly agrees with this punishment!'

'I'm bored, alright?' Sia admitted sheepishly, hoping for mercy, 'you sleep until noon and fall asleep after dinner. I can only pray for guidance and pace the chambers I've memorized so long before I grow bored. Please, have mercy on me!'

'Hmmm, I suppose you're right,' the fae agreed, taking a spoon full of cherries, 'I did spend my first decade imprisoned her drinking myself into a coma. Tomorrow I will show you the library, do you like reading?'

The Paladin nodded, 'Of course. The hour I got a week at the orphanage was one of my favorite times.'

'Good, then for the next two weeks I expect to find that flat butt parked in a chair, with a book in your lap and a snack at hand,' Mor'wen nodded, 'keep it up, I'll get you all the weapons and weights you can want and further...'

'and what?' Sia asked, voice trembling in fear and anticipation.

'Every night for desert, you get to eat one of these buckets off me,' the nymph grinned, completely assured of the hold she had over the knight, 'now open up, because you've got six more buckets to go before your punishment is done.'

'No...I mean yes,' Sia stammered, her slit sopping and clit throbbing with barely controlled lust, 'I mean...'

'That you want me to do this to you every day the next two weeks?' Mor'wen giggled, 'but of course I will!'

Another spoonful cut off Sia's response.

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7 hours ago, CyrilFiggus said:

Well, that'll learn her!  Now she can buff her INT stats while she recovers.

For anyone else who's a nerd, here's the twos starting stats:

Sia (Pre coma)
STR: 19
DEX: 14
CON: 16
WIS: 14
INT: 13
CHA: 17
 
height:6'1
Weight: 160 lbs
 
Mor'Wen (plump):
STR: 10
DEX: 19 (-4 from weight)
CON: 14 
WIS: 19
INT: 18
CHA: 26 (+4 from weight)
 
Height: 5'2
Weight: 155 lbs
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I can picture it in my head -- a D&D session with a bunch of girls. Girl DM is like, "okay... Sia... you see Mor'wen looking at you. You see her orange eyes lusting for your body as she steps closer and closer. She straddles herself over your emaciated thighs..." and Sia's like "I attempt to break free of this beast!" and DM raises her eyebrow. "Do a strength-check roll... oh my... her softly swollen belly rests against your own tightly-engorged stomach. Wriggling desperately, your thin limbs fail -- once again -- to defeat the combined weight of her hefty curves and your own digesting meals. Honestly Sia, why did you do that?" "I'm a paladin! What else can I do? I'm sort of stuck." "It's interesting you say that. Roll for constitution... hmmm..." "What? What's that look mean?" "She takes hold of the bowl of treats in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other..."

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7 hours ago, ulvrik said:

Love the stats, batman76! As a DnD player i really enjoy this story 😁❤️

Appreciated.

 

6 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

I can picture it in my head -- a D&D session with a bunch of girls. Girl DM is like, "okay... Sia... you see Mor'wen looking at you. You see her orange eyes lusting for your body as she steps closer and closer. She straddles herself over your emaciated thighs..." and Sia's like "I attempt to break free of this beast!" and DM raises her eyebrow. "Do a strength-check roll... oh my... her softly swollen belly rests against your own tightly-engorged stomach. Wriggling desperately, your thin limbs fail -- once again -- to defeat the combined weight of her hefty curves and your own digesting meals. Honestly Sia, why did you do that?" "I'm a paladin! What else can I do? I'm sort of stuck." "It's interesting you say that. Roll for constitution... hmmm..." "What? What's that look mean?" "She takes hold of the bowl of treats in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other..."

Planning on having a sparring fight between the two eventually, where Sia will get to experience dice  rolls with very bad modifiers...

4 hours ago, 119 said:

19 is non-human levels of strength.. 

Extremely, but she was a king's champion, trained from youth to fight, capable of fighting all day in armor and then running etc.

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Chapter 11: Rising ?

Glee shivered up Mor'wen's back as she stood and viewed her handiwork.

'In my time,' Mor'wen began, spooning more cherries into her own mouth, 'I have done many things, great terrible and wonderful. I have by craft and thrift, turned a desert into a forest. Seen an acorn rise to the tallest oak and rot to mulch, that more acorns have nestled within. Faced the mad hordes of the Nine Hells, dueled with the valkyrie witches of the savage island tribes, burned goblins from mountain lairs, even faced the steel clad legions of the armies of men. I have helped birth a hundred others my scarce race, helped the blind to see, inspired songs and crafted great works of art. But you...'

Smiling, the Nymph bent over, full belly tight against the dress. She'd over eaten, having accidentally lessened her paladin bride's punishment by near a bucket, and her belly, unused to eating so much in winter protested. A sheen of sweet was over Mor'wen's tan skin, making the thin fabric stick. It was not from effort, although her plump thighs were tired from kneeling over Sia's prostrate form, but from pure excitement. She leaned in, running her nails over the paladin's turgid gut, a thrill going up her own arm as she did so.

'You look my master piece,' the Nymph smiled, bending in and planting a firm kiss on the paladin's mouth.

The cherries on their lips mingled and when the fae thrust her tongue inside it was met with Sia's own, probing and rubbing.

'I look...a whale...beached for gulls...,' Sia grunted, struggling to raise her bony shoulders.

Well, not so bony. When she'd been caught sparring for the seventh time, Sia had looked like any a slender human maiden: long lean legs, slender arms, a flat, narrow belly and very small breasts. Her paladin's muscles were all gone, erased by atrophy, but Mor'wen would have believed her a thin scholar by her clever eyes, perhaps a priestess by her regal features or, and she would never tell the paladin that lest she cover herself up, a courtesan given how her belly had been completely exposed by the combination of the borrowed bodice and long skirt not meeting on her long torso. Now though...

'Where are you getting these skirts?' Mor'wen asked sternly, 'they do not show off your legs at all! And you have such splendid legs, so long, so shapely and you hide them from me! I know I have no skirts such as this, where are you finding them?'

She followed her question with a sharp fingered prod the mountain of Sia's stomach, which made the paladin moan. When Sia had gone to bed the night before, her belly had been mostly flat. She'd had a woman's mound from two weeks of good eating, but her ribs had still shown, as had her pelvis. But now...

'I'm making them,' Sia hissed, trying to wave away Mor'wen's fingers, 'I found...urgh...on one of my walks I found a room full of fabric, with scissors, thread and needle...your gowns exposed to much...'

'You know how to sew?' Mor'wen gasped, 'you're a princess!'

'I'm a bastard,' Sia groaned, 'every girl in the orphanage was trained how to sew. When I became a knight, it was a good skill to keep. Soldiering requires a lot of care for you armor, your saddle, your clothes, your pack. Better if you can do as much as you can yourself...I can't make a full dress or pants or a shirt worth wearing, but I can manage a loose, simple dress.'

'Hmmm, a good answer,' Mor'wen shugged and then yawned, suddenly tired, 'you surprise me my human love. You are just full of surprises.'

'I am full of cherry filling,' Sia groaned raising her head up with difficulty, 'do not get me near the fire or else I will bake into a pie big enough for a town.'

The Paladin laid her head down and closed her eyes. Her face, Mor'wen's excellent eye sight noted, was fuller. Not by much, but the harsh bones of her face were dulled slightly with a layer of softness, a little roundness at the cheek and a less pointy jaw. It suited the Paladin in Mor'wens opinion, strong and brave she might be, but on the inside she was a flustered blushing virgin who needed apple cheeks and a soft chin.

'You only have two buckets in your stomach right now,' the fae giggled, 'you're just big enough for a large hamlet.'

'What...what was that magic...,' Sia asked her, tremorously raising her arms to massage her belly, 'I was full to burst and then suddenly it was as if I hadn't eaten in three months. Then you did it again. And again.'

Her stomach had returned to the size it had been when first stuffed, a rock hard, groaning dome that looked ready to burst with gestation. Then it had surpassed that, Sia's waist was as big as a woman cursed with a heavy set of twins who was more than a month over due. Her belly button had popped out of the round surface, like a nipple. In fact, Sia mused, her lover's mammoth food baby made her stomach look like a gigantic nipple.

'A spell to make digestion immediate and total,' Mor'wen said, stroking her gently, 'its ideal for times of famine when you suddenly find a big animal to eat or a whole field of black berries and can't afford to stay. You eat until you're full, cast the spell to get the full effect and then keep eating.'

'Are you supposed to cast it that many times?' the paladin asked, beginning to rub her stomach.

The fingers that touched the drum taut skin were not nearly as skeletal. They weren't soft or clumsy, but certainly they were fuller. And as her arms kneaded, they had faint jiggle to them. Yes, they were soft Mor'wen noted, not chubby, not plump, but soft with more than a hint of excess.

'Well, its for a whole band of fae...and I'm weaker than I was a few weeks ago,' Mor'wen sighed, running a hand along the inside of her sadly slimming inner thighs, 'I've lost my most powerful spells until spring and am almost totally spent for today...'

Sia kept rubbing her stomach, the little jiggle going from her biceps into her chest. Mor'wen, heavy chested save for the very first days of spring, had been stunned by how small Sia's breasts had been at the start of her coma. A full grown woman of twenty summers deserved at least a full handful, but the muscular paladin barely filled a palm. And afterwards, the aasimar had barely had mosquito bites, nothing compared to the nymph's fall enhanced canyon of tan cleavage. All of Sia's evaporated mammary tissue had rapidly returned now though, with a little bit more to spare given how it was straining uncomfortably against the borrowed bodice.

'Do you have any left?' Sia whimpered, for her stomach was now making a continuous whine.

Several pies worth of calories being rapidly absorbed into her body had put some flesh onto the emaciated woman's frame. No, Mor'wen thought, she wasn't emaciated anymore. She was a little beyond slender even. Not fat, but...well fed.

'I have one left...'Mor'wen teased, 'but you have one spoon full of cherries to eat first.'

'Just...ugh...just feed me,' Sia begged, 'feed it to me...'

'First a question for my brave knight,' Mor'wen teased, 'and then a dangerous quest, one that can only be done by a brave paladin strong of arm and pure of heart...'

Sia looked like a merchant's daughter, Mor'wen decided, by her soft arms, unused to any sort of hard work. Maybe the youngest daughter of a country noble by her youthful, soft face. Perhaps, by the soft, bodice stretching tits ready to tear through their borrowed prisons, a waitress at one of the more fun human bars who had to carry very small drinks and wear very little. Any job that required little physical activity and a gorgeous body with a little fat in the right spot.

The Nymph felt herself tingle, damp between her thighs and tired. Sia wasn't ready though, not yet...not for all the way. After a hundred years of celibacy, with only her own fingers and toys for company, Mor'wen knew the knight needed to be much stronger just to survive her own lustful onslaught.

'Give me the damn question,' the paladin grunted, her courage and will showing through.

'Breast or thigh,' the fae asked.

'I can't eat fowl as well, I refuse,' Sia said, 'one more bite and that's it for today...'

'Not a bird,' Mor'wen laughed, 'me. My breasts or my thighs?'

She saw the Paladin's brow furrow and then unknit in understanding. Blue eyes flashed between shapely thighs daringly exposed beneath Mor'wen's dress, a dress so scandalously short whores would be fined for wearing one, and between the heaving, overflowing mounds of breasts straining against a bodice two sizes too small. Creamy tan thighs, shapely, soft and strong, visible up to where their tops still rubbed gently, the slightly jiggly thighs of an out of practice dancer or the high, heavy bosoms trapped in a bodice whose seams were straining with the pressure of overloaded contents...

Was she cruel, Mor'wen thought, to put so tantalizing a choice before Sia? Before a woman who, trapped in a cloistered, strict upbringing had only admitted the object of her own desires was female two weeks ago? Who was still so embarrassed after a kiss she turned red from her cheeks to her navel?

'Choose,' Mor'wen echoed, raising her skirt with one hand and tugging her hemline with the other, 'choose.'

Maybe she was cruel. But she was a fae, it was her right to be capricious. Besides, Sia daily robbed her of  seeing her magnificent and surely thicker legs. A little cruelty was worth it.

'Breasts,' she said, 'breasts. Your chest is...massive, heaving, bouncy, full, magnificent. They captivate me, I look at them and can't look away, can't stop thinking about how they're so close, so firm and so soft...'

'I knew you'd pick that,' the fae laughed and poured the dregs of the bucket onto her bosom, scrunching her shoulders to press the cleavage together into one bowl of pure desire.

'And your task is to get up and shove your face into them, to eat these cherries off my tits and then come to bed with me,' Mor'wen laughed, 'Can you? Can you my brave knight, my liberator, the future queen of Savona?'

'Yes...I can...I know I can..,' Sia claimed, pushing her newly softened arms beneath herself.

'You've got this! Think of these cherries as a captured maiden and my tits the dragon's lair!' the exiled enchantress laughed, 'are you valiant enough to save them?'

She struggled, straining, trying to press herself up. Sweat broke out across her brow, across her breasts, across her swollen gut. The knight tried to get her feet under her, tried to use her legs, the only part of her body that had gotten even the mildest exercise in two weeks to stand up.

'You can do it! I know you can do it!' Mor'wen cheered, watching Sia's hips rise up, 'stand! Stand and suck these cherries from my cleavage!' 

An inch, two inches and the Paladin slowly began to turn, raising up her left arm to move and...

Sia's straining, toneless right arm gave out and she fell onto the couch with a thump. She panted, beaten, humbled by her own body, the king's champion unable to rise from her eating couch.

'I can't...I can't...,' the aasimar gasped, 'please...'

'A pity, clearly a pity,' the nymph sighed in feined exasperation, 'and here I thought you liked tits?'

'I do...please...,' Sia begged.

'A simple quest, failed, look, the maiden's getting eaten by the dragon,' Mor'wen shrugged, scooping the saucy fruit from between her breasts and filling her mouth with it, chewing twice and swallowing it, 'especially sad as this is as big as they've ever been, I love touching them at this size, its like heaven. They'll start to shrink soon, damnable winter...oh well, can't be helped.'

'You don't have to tease me, alright? I lost, I was too weak...too full,' the paladin protested, 'just get rid of this and help me up...'

The nymph summoned a bottle of wine to the table and picked it up, 'I could...but you're obviously not strong enough to get up and can't be pure of heart, giving how you lust after big titted nymphs. Anyway, I'm both capricious and getting tired again. Also, my tits are sticky. I'm going to go take a bath, get myself drunk and just maybe touch myself. Then sleep I think.'

'But...I'm stuck here!' the knight demanded.

'And you won't be exercising with that pinning you down will you, you disobedient little minx, will you?' Mor'wen giggled, popping the wine cork and sauntering away.

'That's cruel!' Sia yelled at her, trying to rise again and not making it an inch off the couch.

'No, it's capricious!' Mor'wen called back and starting drinking, 'I'll be back at dinner my love! We'll have elk medallions!'

 

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1 hour ago, Ganaroth said:

On any edition past 2e, 19 is only inhuman if you're very low level... and in 2e Aasimar had a +1 Strength bonus, so it's not impossible for them even from level 1. :)

I mean, everything you said too, just saying it's also rules legal.

I'm using a pathfinder variant, Angelkin, that gives a +2 to STR and CHA.

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Chapter 12: A deal

Queen Regina was gladdened for the strength of relative youth. At thirty your knees didn't hurt after too many stairs, at thirty you could go through several court meetings without your back aching beneath the strain of the necessary ramrod posture demanded of a queen, at thirty you could stay up later and get up earlier without looking like death.
 
It would fade of course, as always. Regina had time, maybe a year, before the gray hairs crept in, the wrinkles ate their way through her softer skin and her firm breasts started to sag. Always they returned, a reminder of how the universe itself hated her perfection and wanted her cast low, a feeble hag robbed of her beauty.
 
But as always, Regina would triumph. Nothing, not the host of heaven nor the hordes of hell would stop her from reaching her goals: eternal youth, eternal beauty and eternal power.
 
To that end, the Dowager made her way down a tight, spiral set of stairs hidden deep within the palace. The ancient residence of Kings was itself ancient, built on older palaces and temples beneath its walls and towers. Whole wings had sank beneath the ground from earthquakes and floods and been abandoned or even worse, intentionally forgotten after some petty noble had in boredom released something better left alone.
 
The Queen had a soft glowing lamp in hand, it's light casting upon her hooded black cloak and casting shadows upon the tight spirals. Old murals and carvings were illuminated, men and women trapped tight in orgasmic bondage, fear and joy alike written across their faces. The feminine figures looming over them weren't quite human.
 
Regina paused for a moment on a bench, brushing away cobwebs, and took a deep breath. She'd been walking for over an hour and temporary youth or not, the Queen was getting tired. Partly it was because it was very late, the witching hour, and matters of state had kept Regina up since before dawn.
 
Partly it was because Regina was, by her standards, in horrific condition.
 
Several banquets had needed the regent's attendance and the Queen had dined well: steaming white bread either dipped in oil or slathered with butter, columns of sweet cookies stuffed with chocolate chunks or tasty nuts, small salads drowned in cheese and dressing, roasted boar basted in butter, tender steaks heavy with spices and cakes layered in icing. The temporary gluttony of her spell, the cost of platinum hair and an unlined face, hadn't let her resist, it had taken heroic effort just to eat heavily and not lose herself as an unrestrained animal.
 
Beneath the cloak, the Queen touched her stomach, heavily bloated from the day's feast. Regina's firm breasts had puffed up a little, just enough to draw further glances in her gowns, but her swollen belly was beginning to eclipse them. It was bigger than when she was on her period and over the bloating was a thickening layer of softness, a thickening belt of fat that wrapped around her hips and stomach. She didn't dare pinch it, in fear of finding how soft it was. One of her daily rituals was weighing herself on the magnificent scale she'd had commissioned long ago, a scale that had long read 118 lbs. 
 
It hadn't read that for two weeks. First had come the ten pounds from the spell, stubborn survivors that had survived long walks and fasting but were small enough that sucking in her stomach could hide. Another seven had joined them since making herself younger, most of them going to her belly, putting her on the edge of requiring a corset, something that would be prudent before tongues began wagging about a pregnancy.
 
And at least eight more pounds were needed before Regina could begin losing them.
 
'Perfection is pain,' Regina reminded herself with a sigh, standing up and continuing down, her metal toed shoes ringing on the stone.
 
More time passed before she reached the chamber, a room of cold stone shaped like a five pointed star. Moldering couches lined the damp walls, once master pieces they were now rotten and abandoned, worthless lumps of decayed leather and tarnished bronze. The paintings on the columns were eaten by mold, reduced down to nothing.
But it had been in use and not long ago, a little more than a month ago someone had cleaned the mirrors and marble statues.
 
'Oh the fun and joy I had here,' the Queen sighed, remembering the joy of her youth.
 
One might say she had lost her virginity here, but in truth...in truth the Queen had tossed it away for her first sip of magical power. She'd been whipped, bound and shackled here, initiated into the secret cult of diabolical pleasure. It was a cult she had rapidly risen to rule with an iron hand, all while posing as an innocent high born girl courting the young king who'd just ended a long war. Outsiders had seen their marriage as a permanent end to the war, as house Alvini and her own house Ronoca had been the chief factions, but in truth it was just a stepping stone to yet more power.
 
'And ...annoyance,' Regina finished.
 
It was here she'd received her curse, the curse from a devil's lips: 'You can have your perfection or your power, but not both.'
 
A careful balancing act since then, one balanced on a knife's edge dulled slightly by magical artifacts and Regina's own iron will. It was one reason she'd had the cult disposed of, long ago, after using it to bring down a king. But in this troubled time it would be worth bringing it back to life, just for her own use.
 
Hence, the Queen was glad that the silver pentagram set in the floor was still pure. It would work, her plan could continue.
 
Smiling, the Queen drew a purse from beneath here cloak and began readying the room: putting candles in sockets, wiping cobwebs off the walls, spreading oil into the grooves of pentagram and sacred salt in the circle outside it. It was the only time Regina had ever cleaned anything in her pampered life, but she insisted on doing it perfectly. Then, shivering, threw her cloak to the side and revealed herself as she once had been, Grand-Mistress of the Cult of Diabolical Pleasure.
 
One her coiled platinum hair was a cruel crown, spiked silver coated with tiny rubies and engraved with dancing succubi. Jet black boots with stiletto heels hugged her legs up to her knees, their tiny buttons were in the shape of coital couples and they strained against her softened, fuller legs. Crotchless thong panties wrapped around her woman hood, a heavier not quite perfectly round butt hung out of it. A blood red and dark black corset was taut around her midsection, squeezing her waist down to what it had been in girl hood apart but squeezing a roll of fat around out beneath it. Her exposed breasts wobbled at the top, the nipples high from the chill.
 
'Spirits of fire, spirits of pain, spirits of pleasure, spirits of darkness,' Regina called with a clear voice, holding up one hand that bore a black leather gauntlet with long silver nails, 'As of old, your mistress calls!'
 
The Queen summoned fire into her palm at the cost of five pounds, ignored the pop of a button on her boots as her thighs thickened with extra weight, the bite of her thigh as her ass swelled and above all the escaping fat roll increased into a borderline fupa, and cast it into the pentagram. Quickly the oil caught and rose into a pillar of red smoke, a column that did not escape the bonds. 
 
'It's been too long Queen Regina,' a high voice, girlish, tittered, 'you look like you're eating well though...'
 
'A little too well Sister, she's one meal from being too lardy to fit into those clothes,' a scratchier, but still feminine voice answered, 'not exactly perfect with a fupa and mommy hips now is she?'
 
The smoke cleared, showing two feminine figures. One was short and impossibly curvaceous, a tiny waist with head sized breasts and hips more than a yard around. The other tall and sporty, narrow hipped but with six pack abdominals and large firm tits, the kind of body that no mortal woman could long maintain before their early twenties began to pad them. They looked like two beautiful maids, save for their red skin, small horns and black Raven wings that marked them as succubi.
 
'Ariax, Ziriax,' Regina returned, ignoring the insult, 'it's good to see you again.'
 
'You could have come anytime in the last month, but you were too busy eating it looks like,' Ariax, the taller one laughed.
 
'Eating and getting old, it used to be you could keep yourself at twenty with no effort but now thirty requires you to get plump?' Ziriax, the shorter succubi continued the insult.
 
'And young and beautiful I will be again,' The Queen answered with confidence, 'You will help me with that for a small favor, considering your recent failures.'
 
'Not us, not our failures!' Ariax insisted, 'We killed the king as you asked.'
 
'But not all of his guard,' Regina argued, 'you let his bastard half sister escape, with the ring of Savona!'
 
'She ran too fast, a quick one that,' Ziriax shrugged, 'only our swiftest hunters could keep up and she was strong enough to slay them easily until she found shelter.'
 
'Shelter? You know where she is?' The Queen asked, heart leaping inside her chest, 'Then slay her at once!'
 
'We...she is in a place we cannot go,' the fitter devil admitted, 'A place out of time, where our kind cannot hope to go, made directly by the Green Goddess. With a powerful guardian.'
 
Regina rarely cared about the God of the Druids and fae, they were unpopular among nobles and did little but fertilize the peasant's field and regrow trees cut by the lumber companies. How any follower of it could have the powers to face two countesses of hell, she had no idea.
 
'I don't care if she has an ally, tell me where they are and I can send assassins,' the Queen snarled.
 
'That expression will give you wrinkles,' Ariax teased, 'we will tell you, but it would do no good now. No one can enter save for the pure of heart, you must wait for her to leave.'
 
'Hopefully you can pry that ass from the throne by then,' the curvy succibi insulted her.
 
'My errand here is about that,' the Queen said, 'I have much to do to stabilize my power base, the wretched merchants will only move against Agia if I can show corruption by her. I am making moves, but need your help. A great quantity of grain must be stolen and moved in the middle of the night, with documents faked perfectly. Even my servants cannot do this easily.'
 
'And why should we? Unless...you eat like a pig for every meal, on all fours from a trough, naked before court,' the tall succubi laughed.
 
'No, you will help me plant evidence in here documents and in exchange I will rebuild your cult of pleasure,' Regina insisted, 'Recently I have named many to new lordships and taken their innocent daughters as ladies in waiting. I will bring them here, kind, chaste and hopeful followers of the five goddesses and together we will corrupt them into into cruel, lustful cynics worshipping the powers of hell.'
 
'A good idea...but why would they believe a pudgy, aging woman like you?' Ziriax insisted, 'that gut is only going to get bigger with your appetite. You've gotta be what, 140 now?'
 
'I need more of the potion, I need to be younger, thinner...perfect again,' Regina told them, walking up to the edge of the pentagram, 'Give me that and you will get two dozen souls, the mothers of the next generation of nobility turned to your cause.'
 
'Hmmm, very tempting,' Ziriax said, running nails along her abs.
 
'Quite and I thought we were supposed to be tempting, not that lardass,' Ariax whispered, cupping her huge tits, 'alright...with a modifier...'
 
'What modifier?' Regina asked.
 
'You...will be young again, back to twenty and it will only fade with normal aging,' the muscular devil said, 'and you will be svelte as you were on your wedding day. One hundred ten pounds, flat stomached, pert breasted, tight assed, all shall marvel at your lithe body and be amazed.'
 
'But first...your daughter Cria...' The big hipped succubi teased.
 
Regina's eyes glared. It wasn't that she loved Cria, a stubborn and hateful child who had grown into an arrogant beauty with a washboard belly, high tits and lean hips who ate whatever she wanted without a single pound on her. But like her mother, Cria was a Mage, a powerful one who's powers came at no cost. She was dangerous, not a player in the Capitol only by her own laziness.
 
'What about her?' She asked.
 
'She must be brought low. Her beauty ruined, her confidence crushed, her intellect undermined, her powers stripped from her,' Ariax ordered, 'humiliated in court, made into a puppet."
 
'And how can I do that?' Regina questioned, increasingly unsure.
 
'Invite her to court, we will give you potions and powders to dose into her food, they will blunt her power, make her vulnerable to your spells, from there you must be a mother to her and undermine her spirit with smothering embrace,' Ziriax insisted, 'do that and we will make you thin and young, able to perform magic without worry for your weight.'
 
Regina thought, not with worry about the fate of her only living child but with potential and minor disgust at the fat straining beneath her corset.
 
'And the other girls at my court?' Regina stated, 'We already agreed on their souls but...what do you want for their bodies?'
 
 
 
 
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