Jump to content

Donuts and Duchesses


flyer33

Recommended Posts

  • 3 months later...

 

Cakes and Crushes (part 4)

 

After sunset, the summer evening remained swelteringly hot over the capital city. That was good for the very skimpily-dressed rich girls who staggered along the seafront, often leaning heavily on the arms of their companions because the combination of their food-engorged bellies, protruding a dozen inches or more ahead of them, and their towering high heels made it impossible to walk unaided. Not even the short distance to their carriages.

One rich girl who wasn't so stuffed that she had any problem walking, and who could probably still run a marathon in her gold sandals even though she had eaten to the point of looking six months pregnant in her red-trimmed wrap dress of plain silk, was Duchess Staceline “Stacey” Dolchetta Voluptua-Fuller Demoore. She was trying to enjoy the company of a lean, fit companion, but if either of them was supporting the other with an arm, it was Lady Staceline.

Staceline drew in some breath, but didn't say anything until she and Kal had navigated around a busty baroness in a too-tight purple slip dress, and her inebriated escort. Alas, the fat baroness and her beau were clearly enjoying a nicer time.

So, Kal...” Staceline said apologetically, before clearing her throat. “I'm really sorry about making you cream your shorts, earlier. Twice. I, um... I thought you were really enjoying it! But I really should have asked your consent to continue before I did that whole routine with the cheesecake, and it's my bad that I got too engrossed and I didn't. Sorry. Oh, and I basically never apologise to boys, so I really mean it.”

Kal Aresquay, the cute medical student whom Staceline had practically decided to start thinking of as her boyfriend, groaned.

It's not your fault, Stacey. It's mine! It was just so embarrassing!”

Staceline sighed, and tried to think of something charming to say. She'd been really pleased with herself for making Kal cream his shorts without touching him. Twice. It had really affirmed her sex appeal and erotic skills. And it was really annoying he'd, inexplicably, found it embarrassing. And what Staceline found even more annoying was that she felt a bit guilty about not noticing that Kal hadn't been enjoying himself as much as she.

Meh. Honestly, Kal, it's really not embarrassing at all! It's pretty much the best compliment a boy can give a girl, in fact. And, pretty much no-one noticed us! Plus, if anyone in that restaurant had noticed us, they'd have just been really impressed that you were into me, and I was, um...”

Kal seemed unhappy. Staceline gave him a supportive squeeze.

... Really into you. There. I've said it. And that is why I may have come on a little bit strongly, over dinner. But, Kal. I want to make it up to you.”

Kal sighed, dejectedly. Staceline decided to cheer him up by steering him towards the secure glass display frontage of an upmarket jewellery store that faced onto the waterfront. Its glittering lights drew in a fair number of late-night browsers from the rich entertainment district. Staceline found a slot next to the display of the biggest diamonds. A big diamond, she decided, would be a great way to raise a boy's spirits – it always worked on Alicia, anyway.

Okay, Kal. I'm fucking rich. Tell me what you want, and I'll buy it for you. Then you can forgive me and...”

Kal leaned quietly on Stacey's shoulder. He didn't seem very cheered up.

C'mon. I'll buy you the fucking store. Just say something.”

Sorry Stacey.” Kal managed. He even grinned a bit. “But you can't buy diamonds for a boy. That's the wrong way around.”

I totally can.” Staceline countered. “In fact, my banks get really annoyed when I don't buy enough diamonds, because it means they end up with too much liquid currency piling up in my accounts. Which makes the average return look bad. I had to buy the Rostau Diamond last year just to shut them up...”

This, at least, caused Staceline's boyfriend to laugh.

I'm not saying you can have it, Kal. My offer is one upper-mid market jewellery store. Not last year's most expensive gem. What do you say? One diamond shop and you forget about me being bad tonight? Seems fair.” Staceline pleaded. “Okay, one diamond shop and I'll throw in a riding horse and some silk clothes. Which you need anyway, by the way.”

Kal didn't reply. He looked like he was trying to think of something to say. And Staceline suspected it was a no. Damn.

Okay! You drive a hard bargain, Sir. Plus five hundred sovereigns... Per year. Come on. Please!

At last, Staceline extracted her reply from Kal.

Stacey, you don't have to give me stuff. Except dinner... You can pay for dinner, because, Okay, I can't afford to feed you. And. I wouldn't turn down a silk shirt. But you don't have to give me anything else. You are the hottest – and hungriest – girl I've every met. And I like you!”

Like? Staceline felt her body flood with relief, and happiness. The cynical half of her mind would be furious – she was drooling over a boy whose position in life was decidedly inferior to her own.

Like me?” Staceline squeezed her boyfriend. On cue, her tummy rumbled – it was heavy, but she'd been planning to eat more tonight, and she was hungry. “Great! In that case, we can go to somewhere for dessert! In case you didn't notice, we skipped it at the Sisilean place!”

Kal looked askance.

Skipped. You ate like five slices of cake, Stacey!”

Stacey punched him in the arm.

Yeah, slices! That was just because I thought you wanted to leave. Five slices is like starvation rations! Five cakes would be a good start! We can --- Oh! Oh! Look at this!”

Staceline dragged Kal towards a different display in the window of the jewellery shop. It was an advertisement for an exhibition.

I've seen this before!” Staceline explained.

The Fentiman-Jowelle Exhibition?” Kal read the card, on which various drawings of supposedly antique curios were arranged around the main title and details of the exhibition.

No, no! This thing!”

Staceline pointed at a drawing of stylised cow-head, seemingly a large silver antique statue of exotic origin.

You want to buy it?”

Yes!” Staceline said, before changing her mind. “No! But I want to find out what it's doing in the city, and who's interested in it... Um. Why? Well, have you heard about the so-called Cream Poisoner?”

Isn't the Cream Poisoner some kind of made-up explanation for why so many girls in the city are eating themselves sick? Which they do anyway, because they're greedy gluttons?” Kal asked.

Yes. And I'm happy you and I think alike, Kal. But it may also be something to do with that silver cow statuette, which is the emblem of an organisation called the Cult of Cream, and...”

Kal laughed.

No, really!”

Okay.”

And... If there is a Cult of Cream in the capital, it's my patriotic duty as a duchess of the realm to investigate.”

Is it really?”

Yes. Well, no. But investigating ancient cults is more fun than dating – oh, shit, present company excepted, Kal – so I want to. Plus, my countrywomen's waistlines may be at stake! The Cult of Cream used to fatten up noble ladies until they couldn't walk! And, although I'm sure my metabolism would protect me from any such nefarious plans, I have to think about my friends, like Alicia, who...”

Staceline stuck her tongue out. She'd been about to say it was her duty to protect her friends, like Alicia, from being fattened up into vast obesity by some sort of fat cult... But, while this was true – it was Staceline's duty to protect Alicia from such sinister schemes – the Duchess couldn't help but add the additional thought, “And if anyone's going to fatten up Alicia into vast obesity, it's going to be me! So I want to know how they plan to do it! And if they have any really irresistible recipes that Alicia could get hooked on!”

Anyway, Staceline remembered she had a companion this evening.

So let's head back to my place, so I can write and get myself invited to this exhibition. We can grab a couple cheesecakes on the way. You can feed them to me while I write... If that's okay with you, Kal?”

Whatever you want, Stacey.”

Great!”

 

* *

 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Dear God but I am happy at seeing Stacy back.

 

And not just back, but seeming to throw her diet to the four winds and head over heels in love. Let's just hope it starts sticking, unlike athlete Chloe I can really see Stacy rapidly turn into a big girl and like it...but the first realization that she's finally turning into the typical fat noble woman will make her deliciously angry...especially if it occurs at an embarassing time.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 4 weeks later...
  • 2 weeks later...
  • 1 month later...
4 hours ago, flyer33 said:

Hey, thanks. It has been quite a month or so. But I do now have some holiday, and I've been hoping I can think of something to write... 

Fuck yes, Stacy needs to grow... Her down fall, the first time a corset is necessary, the first time exercise doesn't feel good, the first time she realizes she can't control her appetite...

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 5 weeks later...

Well, OK, I'll give you what I've got for this, but it's harder to set up plot than I'd like so I don't know what happens next. I mean, broadly, Staceline probably gets an empire to rule at some point - and the general theme of Pride and Prejudice with fat girls in a world that glorifies obesity must continue. But I'm lacking ideas of how to connect other characters from the world (compare: in Milf Avenue, I have a range of new characters to bring in). If you want to suggest new characters and motivations, like in the RPG stories, I'll think about them. 

 

Chapter 10: Cakes and Crushes (part 5)


A few days later.

 

It was morning. Well, Alicia Remonte thought to herself as she tottered tipsily along the finely-made carpets of the Demoore townhouse on her way to the breakfast salon, it was almost still morning. Alas, her head was still spinning just a little, and she had to admit to a teeny bit of a hangover – but all in a good cause! Lord Bingley Bonkley had treated Alicia to an extraordinarily rich feast the night before, and plied her with much mead and far more sweetened wine than the honey blonde's sloshed head was accustomed to. But what a feast! What a man! And what a venue! She had taken Staceline's carriage to a private dinner at Lord Bonkley's marvellous old townhouse. And there she had been wined and dined until she was sure her belly could hold no more and her new gold dress must surely split. And then, after the most perfectly calculated of pauses, and a gentle, exciting pat of Bingley's strong hands on Alicia's gurgling tummy, she had been offered yet more food! Exquisite honey-nut treats! Roast swan! Pate de foie gras on a platter of cinnamon biscuits! Cheese! Chocolate! Sweet rolls!

All in all, Alicia was certain she was in love! She just hoped she'd eaten enough to show it. After all, as the fourth daughter of a family of modest means, Alicia had little to recommend her to a man so rich, handsome, and eligible as Bingley Bonkley. Well, little apart from her charm, her affectionate good nature, a respectably-good education, beautiful glossy hair, her good bust and excellent bottom, and, of course – most important of all for any flower of Imperial womanhood – her lusty appetite!

By long tradition in the Empire, just as in all the civilised foreign lands Alicia Remonte had learned about from her tutors and at college, it was the done thing for a woman to pile on lots of weight when she dated a young man. Especially if she liked him, and all the more-so if he were of higher status! After all, for a pretty young woman to fatten up demonstrated three extremely important facts of nature about the relationship: first, that her beau was a man of means, able to indulge his paramour far in excess of her basic needs, even to the point of her spilling out her her dress or popping seams and needing new clothes; second, that the young woman's appetites were stirred into lustful hedonism by her admiration for the young man, who, the world must therefore appreciate, was all the finer a specimen the fatter he gorged her; and third, quite importantly, that the young woman had a robust constitution, proving she was of good breeding stock!

Alicia certainly hoped her own display of appetite over the past week was amply proving her affection for the delicious Bonkley. She'd been trying very hard, and had put on a stone! Of course, she had fallen into a deep slumber last night, after being hand-fed a final tray of sweet rolls by her handsome host. Which meant, embarrassingly, that she'd been carried back to Staceline's carriage and put to bed at home, instead of fulfilling her earnestly-hoped for intent of seducing Bingley Bonkley to his bedchamber after their private dinner. But Alicia was in too happy a mood – and still too sloshed on mead, dessert wine, and refined sugar – to really worry about that lapse in her romantic schemes.

Alicia tottered to a hardwood dining chair, and waved an instruction in the direction of the maid.

Only a light breakfast for me, Melissa!” Alicia said carefully, as her head spun to a rest. “I dined very well last night, and my tummy is a bit delicate! So, only one serving of Aquitainian toast; a little candied fruit, and some cheese, and perhaps something to settle my tum tum. Um... A bowl of oatmeal. Milk to drink, please – just one quarter cream.”

Alicia surveyed the table as Melissa hurried off after pouring a cup of coffee with plenty of sugar and cream – fresh from one of Stacey's own dairy estates.

The dark-haired, silk summerdress-clad, impressively busty although scandalously svelte Staceline Demoore regarded Alicia from across the unusually busy breakfast table. Staceline was munching industriously on a cinnamon bun, from an almost-empty platter, and was surrounded on one side by coloured boxes of letters and paperwork, and on the other side by a sea of lidded breakfast dishes. Plus the actual plate in front of the Empire's most eligible woman was laden with enough mashed potato, eggs, beans, pastries, pancakes, and waffles for a small hotel.

Staceline arched an eyebrow at Alicia's hair – whoops Alicia realised she may have forgotten to brush it, due to slight tipsiness.

Morning, Alicia! Successful date with the Empire's clumsiest cavalry officer, I assume?”

Alicia bridled at her friend's disrespectful tone.

Lord Bingley – hiccup!

Uh, huh?” Staceline poured milk and stuffed a pancake in her mouth while Alicia sipped her coffee.

Lord Bingley Bonkley...” Alicia resumed. “... Um, what was I saying?”

You very much admire his looks, élan, and cleverness, I think. So I'm not to call him clumsy.” Staceline surmised, then ate another cinnamon bun. Then she devoured another helping of creamed potato, with a look on her face more of determination than enthusiasm. 

Well, quite!” Alicia confirmed. “You shouldn't, Stacey. Bingley is a fine young man!”

Hmm. If you say so, Cia. I'm happy you like him!”

Alicia felt she should emphasise some more of Bingley's good points.

I do, Stacey! And, he has a very big mead cellar! He showed me!”

Oo.” Staceline smirked. “So you made out with Bonkley in his wine cellar, Alicia? I'd have thought you'd be more of a moonlit balcony girl...”

Alicia blushed. “I only made out with him a little, Stacey.” Alicia protested, before rubbing her sore head and sending Melissa for a headache pill. “Alas, I ate a bit too much, and must have fallen into a little slumber, for I just awoke in my own bed. Humph! And I had hoped to finally seduce Bingley with the help of the rather raunchy silk underwear we picked out yesterday.”

Staceline finished her small mountain of mashed potato, and refilled her plate with a quantity beyond Alicia's expectations.

Someone's got an appetite this morning, Stacey!” Alicia remarked, eager to change the subject from her own accidental failure to fuck her new boyfriend on their third date.

Nope.” Staceline denied, before reaching for more poached eggs with a long, toned arm, while Melissa switched her empty stack of pancakes for a new one, drenched in syrup. “Not that hungry. Ugh.”

Alicia was confused. Her best friend had the most colossal appetite and a metabolism to match, and she could eat any two of their friends under the table. But Staceline was was also a headstrong and frustrating young woman who refused to do what other young Imperial ladies who needed to put on weight would be forced to do by their elders and betters, and gorge herself beyond satiety. Usually, anyway.

Um, if you're not hungry, Stacey, how come you're still eating breakfast?”

The Duchess flashed a smile at Alicia, then flicked a misplaced strand of dark hair clear of her cavernous cleavage. Then she admired the summer view of the garden, before answering.

Oh, full marks, Alicia, for realising it's midday and I'm still eating breakfast. And I didn't wake up at noon...” Said Staceline.

Alicia burped in confusion and slurped some creamy coffee. Happily, her small one-quart bowl of oatmeal had arrived. She ate a little, while Staceline cleared her plate of more pounds of creamed potatoes, beans, eggs, and tomatoes. Then Alicia burped, and patted her tummy. She felt bloated after only a light meal, because her system hadn't dealt with the previous night's huge gorge.

Burp!” Alicia patted her stuffed belly. “Oh, I feel so fat! I do hope Bingley notices! You know what we learned in school, Stacey: a woman should try to put on ten pounds in the first week after she begins dating – fifteen, if she wants to really impress him. And, you know, anything under five pounds is pretty insulting. So I do hope Bingley can see how much fatter I've gotten!”

I think he'll see.” Staceline confirmed, licking her lips and eyeing the blonde's fattened-up body. “How much weight have you gained, Alicia?”

In the week since I met Bingley?” Alicia prompted, with a smug smile. Staceline nodded.

Fourteen pounds!” Lady Alicia Remonte declared, proudly.

Staceline sighed, and munched a cinnamon bun from a new plate. “Want to know how much weight I've gained this week, Alicia?”

Alicia coughed and looked up. Staceline Demoore didn't really gain weight. Except muscle, which most certainly didn't count. Still, if would be most impolite for Alicia not to have noticed weight gain, which was normally something a woman was meant to compliment her friends upon. “Gained, Stacey? Oh, congratulations, you have gained a little.”

Staceline sighed. “One pound, Alicia.”

Alicia burped politely. “Oh, well, that's not bad, Stacey! Only another forty pounds, and you'll be a respectable weight for a woman of your station!”

Staceline huffed, and stared unenthusiastically at the platter of mashed potato.

I thought you said, Alicia, that gaining anything under five pounds in the week after you start dating a young man you like is, I quote, pretty insulting?”

Alicia didn't just burp. She was so surprised, she hiccuped and farted simultaneously as well.

Oh! Stacey! You're dating a boy and you're finally going to fatten up for him!” Lady Remonte squeaked in delight. “That's fantastic! Hooray!”

A hot, angry glare from Staceline did nothing to calm her blonde friend's delight.

I didn't say that, Alicia.”

Oh, you don't need to, silly!” Alicia retorted. “You've chosen a date from among the Empire's most eligible suitors, and you're finally going to bulk up to a respectable, healthy weight for him before the marriage proposal! That's wonderful news! I knew this day would come eventually, if I prayed for it daily! I'm so happy I could pop! BUURP!

Staceline glared harder, and was ignored by her friend.

I only said it would be kind of insulting not to gain some weight, if I happened to have agreed to date a boy. Which, yes, I have. Date, not get engaged to. Date.”

Alicia nodded enthusiastically, clearly taking the rest for a nailed-on guarantee.

Such wonderful news! I must tell Bingley! I shall write to him at once!”

Don't bother. He can't read long words.” Staceline muttered.

Oh! What a happy summer's day!” Alicia continued to chirp. “So. Tell me, Stacey! Who is the lucky boy? Is it one of the princes, secretly? I'll bet it is, because you weren't too disappointed by your dinner at the palace, so you must have been hiding something. Or is it a Duke? Or an exotic merchant prince from zer League? I wouldn't mind.”

Staceline sighed, and pushed her mashed potato away in defeat.

Nope.” She said.

 

*

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Lovely, lovely. As for ideas...

The Prince from earlier offers Stacey an engagement...if she can fit into the royal wedding dress, which could easily fit two Staceys. Or maybe head of an important bureaucracy or department that leads her to stress eat and miss exercising. Maybe both.

Of course, if it's just jump to gaining there's no tension. So have The cult from earlier curse stacey, because she's descended from an ancient line of priestesses who opposed them. The more she gains, the weaker her will gets, leading to get trying to undo the curse before she's a total ditz.

Introducing a rival would be good too: perhaps literally Amazonian diplomat from a foreign nation arrives, one who's taller, stronger, fitter then Stacey. Bonus is this is after Staceys fitness has slipped some and our heroine overexerts herself pushing her plumpening body to the limit. 

Or maybe a once fit and adventurous imperial princess or milf empress jealous that her potential sister  in law Stacey kept her shape while she's ballooned into palace bound sphericalness. Who tries some careful sabotage using an old spell book she found...

Or perhaps a younger noble woman who looks up to stacey as an exemplar, having gotten in shape and become a rich business woman herself... Just as her idols business ventures tumble and her metabolism nose dives!

Link to comment
Share on other sites

I got two ideas to keep the tension building:

Stacy could be assigned to go to a foreign land (as an ambassador, maybe, or to find some mystical relic). The foreign country’s beauty standards are the exact opposite of the Empire’s... and yet something peculiar has happened: Stacy’s newfound yearning for her old love has endowed her with rather indulgent habits and she finds herself slowly gaining and becoming more decadent.

Also: Stacy could stumble upon the realization that the Empire’s FA culture is not natural and begins to uncover a great magical conspiracy embedded into the highest echelons of government, holding the fate of the whole Empite at stake — and also her waistline.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Thanks for these!

1 hour ago, Batman76 said:

The Prince from earlier offers Stacey an engagement...if she can fit into the royal wedding dress, which could easily fit two Staceys.

Good idea. I can see this. Don't bet on Stacey meekly saying "I will" though. 

1 hour ago, Batman76 said:

Of course, if it's just jump to gaining there's no tension. So have The cult from earlier curse stacey, because she's descended from an ancient line of priestesses who opposed them. The more she gains, the weaker her will gets, leading to get trying to undo the curse before she's a total ditz.

I did think about an "ancient curse" plotline. Might have to be a "season 2 or 3" plot.

1 hour ago, Batman76 said:

Introducing a rival would be good too: perhaps literally Amazonian diplomat from a foreign nation arrives, one who's taller, stronger, fitter then Stacey. Bonus is this is after Staceys fitness has slipped some and our heroine overexerts herself pushing her plumpening body to the limit.

No: the bonus is that the Amazonian princess is jealous of Stacey's boobs, and will stop at nothing to surpass Staceline's physique in this aspect too! Good idea, have to see...

EDIT: I've checked my notes, and Stacey is only 5'9''. She is preternaturally strong, but not so much as Chloe Southern (6'2'' or 6'3''), or Siaka (over 6'). Rebeca Moore (5'10'') is also taller, but is a lazy super-fatty with little strength. Countess Contoura "Connie" Décolletage is 5'10''. And Tara Tate, from my brief start at a speedster heroine, was 6'4''. 

I also had to look up hair colour. Stacey: black / dark hair. Chloe: Sunrise blonde (chlorine green tint). Siaka: almost certainly black / very dark Asian or Polynesian hair. Rebeca Moore: glossy dark blonde. Connie: very blonde. Tara Tate: black. 

1 hour ago, Batman76 said:

Or maybe a once fit and adventurous imperial princess or milf empress jealous that her potential sister  in law Stacey kept her shape while she's ballooned into palace bound sphericalness. Who tries some careful sabotage using an old spell book she found...

Yes, but I've avoided spellbooks thus far in this setting. People basically think magic / alchemy is "superstitious bunkum" (like the scientifically minded Dr Globus), or they use alchemical potions without having any clue what they do, or Lovecraftian science (like Professor Chadwick, who was examining the gem which caused the guests at the banquet lecture to become rampaging gluttons). 

1 hour ago, Batman76 said:

Or perhaps a younger noble woman who looks up to stacey as an exemplar, having gotten in shape and become a rich business woman herself... Just as her idols business ventures tumble and her metabolism nose dives!

Maybe. Difficult to write - I'm not sure I want Stacey to inspire a "cult of svelte" because it's more amusing (or, at least, easier), from the point of view of "Pride and Prejudice in a world that glorifies obesity" if the other major characters all object strenuously to slenderness. Also, Stacey doesn't really own business ventures in the 21st century sense of companies that might fail - although she does own banks, it's a key part of her wealth and extreme eligibility that she also owns vast tracts of land in various different kingdoms, and a strategic canal, so it's pretty much physically impossible for her to suffer financial problems or be anything other than extremely wealthy (this is why men want to marry her - it's not only for her boobs, and it's definitely not because she's smarter than them). 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

25 minutes ago, >_< 0_0 said:

Also: Stacy could stumble upon the realization that the Empire’s FA culture is not natural and begins to uncover a great magical conspiracy embedded into the highest echelons of government, holding the fate of the whole Empire at stake — and also her waistline.

Remarkably, something like that has always been part of my concept for the setting. Fools seldom, as they say. 

That said, by this point in world history, basically everyone is a glutton without needing any encouragement, and the FA culture is perfectly self-sustaining. The question which one might ask, however, is how come the empire's dairy farms, and the sugar and chocolate plantations in other lands, are productive enough to keep everyone in the world fat? 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

59 minutes ago, >_< 0_0 said:

I got two ideas to keep the tension building:

Stacy could be assigned to go to a foreign land (as an ambassador, maybe, or to find some mystical relic). The foreign country’s beauty standards are the exact opposite of the Empire’s... and yet something peculiar has happened: Stacy’s newfound yearning for her old love has endowed her with rather indulgent habits and she finds herself slowly gaining and becoming more decadent.

.

I'd also thought of something similar to that, maybe a Not!Ottoman empire where the average noble woman looks and dresses like Princess Jasmine, it would show off every inch stacey gains quite well.

I was torn between either Stacey being either the diplomat basicially like that, or her being captured after some daring deed in a border conflict, as an unmarried noble woman she used a loop hole to raise a regiment, and put in the harem of the sultan...who's actually an extremely decent MILF Sultana that explains its just because it would be dishonorable to put a woman in prison and an insult to her swordcraft to let her go. So until peace negotiations conclude, stacey will stay in the old harem chambers now inhabited by her daughters and heal up, said daughters all being FFA's eager to get their hands on a curvy foreigner and bump up her "weight in gold" ransom price.

43 minutes ago, flyer33 said:

 

No: the bonus is that the Amazonian princess is jealous of Stacey's boobs, and will stop at nothing to surpass Staceline's physique in this aspect too! Good idea, have to see...

 

Perhaps both of them would encourage bad habits in the other, becoming increasingly interested in each other's softening....

Another idea I'd had was politics: after a boneheaded move by the prime minister, Stacey decides its time to take her seat on the house of nobles...but will have to, ugh, gain a suitable amount of weight somehow...such as through using a new and scandalous brothel focusing on using light bondage, teasing and force feeding to ensure the Imperial noble women remain decadent and squishy. Its just something stacey is doing to gain weight temporarily, she doesn't enjoy it after all...

48 minutes ago, flyer33 said:

 

 

.

EDIT: I've checked my notes, and Stacey is only 5'9''. She is preternaturally strong, but not so much as Chloe Southern (6'2'' or 6'3''), or Siaka (over 6'). Rebeca Moore (5'10'') is also taller, but is a lazy super-fatty with little strength. Countess Contoura "Connie" Décolletage is 5'10''. And Tara Tate, from my brief start at a speedster heroine, was 6'4''. 

I also had to look up hair colour. Stacey: black / dark hair. Chloe: Sunrise blonde (chlorine green tint). Siaka: almost certainly black / very dark Asian or Polynesian hair. Rebeca

 

 

 

As you'd said pride and prejudice, I pictured Keira Knightly but with curves dialed up from 1 all the way to 12 and muscles from 1 to 8.

50 minutes ago, flyer33 said:

Yes, but I've avoided spellbooks thus far in this setting. People basically think magic / alchemy is "superstitious bunkum" (like the scientifically minded Dr Globus), or they use alchemical potions without having any clue what they do, or Lovecraftian science (like Professor Chadwick, who was examining the gem which caused the guests at the banquet lecture to become rampaging gluttons).

Makes sense, a subtle touch can be great. Perhaps if you're going lovecraftian, maybe something like the shadow over insmouth where Stacey discovers that the noble women from the barony her mother was from have a tendency to be extremely athletic and curvy....until around Stacey's age, they begin to rapidly grow ever since an ancesstress made a deal with a strange entity living in a ruined, underground city nearby. After a failed diet, an emergency clothes purchase after outgrowing every dress she owns, needing to rest after fucking only half a dozen giggolos to exhaustion and even an embarrassing corset bust, Stacey needs to find the secret to this mystery before she's doomed to obesity! Or worse before she likes it!

 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

56 minutes ago, flyer33 said:

Remarkably, something like that has always been part of my concept for the setting. Fools seldom, as they say. 

That said, by this point in world history, basically everyone is a glutton without needing any encouragement, and the FA culture is perfectly self-sustaining. The question which one might ask, however, is how come the empire's dairy farms, and the sugar and chocolate plantations in other lands, are productive enough to keep everyone in the world fat? 

Perhaps the setting war once a high fantasy one, but facing either famine from over population or invasion from an awakening eldritch God, the magisters and Sorceresses cast a great working that put all magic save alchemy or lovecraftian hypergeometry into making the soil and dairy cows hyper productive beyond all measure. The spell is maintained by the ritual over indulging of noble women, their orgasmic joy at growing suppressing latent magical abilities and keeping cthulu dreaming. A secretive group, maybe this worlds delta Green, knows the truth and wants to make sure a woman as thin and influential as Stacey doesn't upset the cosmic balance...

Link to comment
Share on other sites

17 minutes ago, Batman76 said:

As you'd said pride and prejudice, I pictured Keira Knightly but with curves dialed up from 1 all the way to 12 and muscles from 1 to 8.

Lara Croft, with muscles dialled down from 9 to 8, and boobs dialled up from 12 to 16, at the least. 

But Keira Knightly is hot too, so that works. In fact, the empire-line dresses and distinct lack of crop-tops and hot pants in the Empire are probably more Keira. 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

21 minutes ago, flyer33 said:

Lara Croft, with muscles dialled down from 9 to 8, and boobs dialled up from 12 to 16, at the least. 

But Keira Knightly is hot too, so that works. In fact, the empire-line dresses and distinct lack of crop-tops and hot pants in the Empire are probably more Keira. 

Ha, maybe the boobs should be bigger than 12/10...

 

I'd also echo something that would reinforce the theme, namely that stacy has a big streak of contrarianess to her. She's fit because the rest of the empire is so indulgent, hard headed because every other noble woman is so submissive. If put into a role that requires her to be thin, I think she'd gain weight out of pride from not fitting in.

 

I did have an idea where the empire, to press traditional values, has a massive parade where stacy is asked to play the role of the founding goddess or empress, which essentially means wearing something between a wonder woman costume and a brazillian carnival outfit, as she's the only noble woman fit enough for the role and the ancient founderess of the empire was famously fit woman. The costume fits...just barely, due to stacy's insane curves and the parade chief insists stacy drop a couple pounds to fit it perfectly. Now that she's being told to stay thin, stacy finds herself wanting to disobey.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Chapter 10: Cakes and Crushes (part 6)

 

A few days later...

 

Golden sunlight glittered from the marble façade of the Creamer Gallery, the trendiest exhibition hall on the Capitoline Hill. Lacquered carriages formed a queue that trailed around onto a side street, as the Empire’s wealthiest, best connected, and most fashionable waited impatiently to be admitted to the grandest gala dinner of the season so far. Not only would there be 78 enormous desserts befitting a Royal Gala – prepared with the fruits of the host’s famously excellent creameries – but also copious fine entertainments in an exquisite setting. Indeed, Duke Creamer had spared no expense in securing the debut of the much-anticipated Fentiman Jowelle Exhibition of antiques and novel treasures. Any guests who were not entirely occupied by the exquisite feasting and indulgence would be free to explore the curios that were being showcased for the first time in various side rooms of the great hall. This, however, was not the main attraction. The main attraction was that both of the imperial princes were expected to attend as Duke Creamer’s guests – and there was every chance that the unmarried heirs would be mingling among the eligible women present. Which meant every single member of high society had competed to get their daughters on the guest list – and every unmarried young woman had been desperate to go. It also meant the fashions, jewellery, and silk clothes on display would be most extravagant of the season – and of great interest to the readers of the newspapers. In turn, that meant work for the fashion correspondents and gossip columnists – such as Tillia Bott-Turner, an aristocrat not above spreading gossip for money and influence, and a veteran of the capital’s party scene.

Lady Tillia Bott-Turner had not always been a celebrated journalist for the Times. Indeed, for her first five gala seasons after her debutante year, she had devoted herself purely to the delights of Imperial entertainment and the thrill of seducing and being seduced by eligible young men. And she’d used her flair for gossip mongering and her eye for critiquing fashion entirely in support of her hedonistic lifestyle. Five summers of full-on indulgence, at an intensity designed to fatten up young aristocratic women in one season from merely chubby or fleshy all the way up to marriageably fat, had given Tillia Bott-Turner a bottom so corpulent that it occupied the full width of a carriage seat. And that had been when Tillia’s elders and betters had pressured her to finally settle on a husband – however, by this point, Tillia had been knocking on the door of five-hundred pounds, and while she could still lure the Empire’s hottest prospects into bed with the wiggle of her galleon-sized ass, in matters of marriage they were distressingly drawn to younger, perter, more mobile, and less infamously easy debutantes. This had created a necessity for Lady Bott-Turner to support herself financially – and, although the horror of actually performing a job, for money, was a little shocking to her social circle, they approved of the influence she held over society gossip, once she proved to be a natural in the role of gossip columnist.

It was therefore partly Lady Bott-Turner’s position at the Times, as well as her society connections, that had secured her a sought-after invitation to Duke Creamer’s gala dinner and Exhibition. And this, in turn, meant the obese 29 year-old was sweating profusely and fanning herself as vigorously as she could manage, within the confines of her aunt’s somewhat battered green carriage. Still, she scribbled a few choice thoughts about the awfulness of the sweltering queue into her notebook as she waited. Then Tilly tried to pass more time by peering out her window to observe which carriages were in attendance this evening, and noting down the names and fashions of the most eligible young ladies – this latter being made possible, as many of them emerged to gasp for fresh air, perhaps in the hope that they would not sweat too profusely into their atelier-made silks.

Lady Khloe Eatwell, 19, was a significant blonde beauty with straight, glossy hair to her mid-torso, and an impressively broad-shouldered and strong frame. She’d begun the season as a deb of perhaps 196 pounds, and had looked practically slim due to her statuesque build. Her considerable popularity had seen her courted by half a dozen hot prospects, and she’d impressed them all – and the rest of Society – with a gain of five and half stone in about eleven weeks. The now 19.5 stone Lady Khloe carried her weight very well, in heavyset, strong thighs and a large bottom, not to mention heavy boobs and a modest but alluring layer of delicate chub. Her broad frame certainly gave her scope to add a considerable amount more weight yet, before she would be of marriageable fatness! Indeed, Count Eatwell’s daughter was clearly one of the most robust beauties of the season – and Tillia gave the blonde an outside chance of marrying the crown prince. After all, such an overtly strong constitution and demonstrable capacity for gorging and handling weight gain would be a real advantage for a prospective Empress. Plus, her family was decently wealthy, with rich towns within its lands.

Lady Ljiliana de Tarte, 25, was scarcely much younger than Tillia Bott-Turner, and stood no chance of securing an Imperial marriage. Tilly wondered why the pillow-bellied older deb had bothered attending – and, while wearing an eye-gouging orange dress with a large, midriff-baring cutaway that did nothing to improve her sun-damaged skin nor the stretch-marks that inevitably built up on the tummy of any Imperial woman who’d gorged her way through six gala seasons! Weight loss potions and pertness-maintaining creams could only do so much! And, frankly, although gossip held that Ljiliana got through gallons of both, she was still an aging woman whose eligibility was in decline even has her belly-heavy figure fattened up past 25 stone.

Countess Katelette Foir-Grasse, daughter of the powerful Duchess Fatoline, 19, was also in attendance – at least, judging by the presence of her mother’s gilded carriage. Not that Katelette’s presence had ever been in doubt. She was among the bookies’ favourites for future Empress, for the plump 5’10’’ red-head combined beauty with wealth, and she also possessed a truly vast eating capacity! Tilly had personally witnessed the well-rounded, but far from fat young Countess consume a double portion of each of the 78 big desserts on offer at a Royal Gala dinner. It was an epic feat, worthy of royalty! Tilly suspected appetite-enhancing potions were involved, for that was exactly the sort of sly trick Duchess Fatoline would resort to, to secure social elevation, but proof was hard to come by as the Foir-Grasses were a tight-lipped bunch when it came to the schemes of their matriarch.

Tillia fanned herself with her notebook, and sighed with relief as the doormen finally removed a silk ribbon and began admitting guests to Duke Creamer’s gala. Then, among the first guests admitted, she caught sight of a slightly-related cousin – Duchess Staceline Voluptua-Fuller Demoore, 18, who would certainly be the Empire’s most eligible woman were she not so scandalously svelte everywhere except for her epic bustline – wearing a flowing blue silk gown and a necklace of glittering sapphires.

“No!” Tillia gasped.

Tillia was shocked. Had Staceline not read her invitation properly? She’d brought a plus-one! What cretinous behaviour! What a country bumpkin! Had Duchess Demoore not realised that, while she would have been officially invited to bring her lean, muscular young escort, she wasn’t expected to? The unstated purpose of the gala, after all, had been for young women to throw themselves at the Imperial princes! Which Staceline could hardly do if she was already being escorted by an attractive companion.

Tillia harrumphed, and scribbled the word “Bumpkin!” in her notebook.

Still, on reflection, at least the Imperial princes might be relieved. The gala’s guest list was a good two-thirds debutantes, and the princes would be a risk of being mauled by eager would-be partners, were they not accompanied by bodyguards. And, were Staceline Demoore alone, her rank and wealth would demand they allocate a chunk of their evenings to courting her, even though her svelteness made such a match ultimately impossible – and that would leave them less time for the likes of the delicious Lady Khloe Eatwell or Countess Katelette Foir-Grasse! But, with Staceline escorted, they could spend their evening more productively... And, indeed, some of the minor debutantes might stop annoying the princes, and try attaching themselves to Staceline’s companion instead. Tillia made a mental note to find out his name.

 

*

 

Staceline Demoore squeezed her date’s hand excitedly, and shifted impatiently in her carriage seat. She was eager to get into the gala and exhibition. She tried to tell herself this was entirely so she could further investigate the intriguing silver cow sculpture that would be on display to high society for the first time, and not, for example, because she was really looking forward to entertaining a cute boy at a posh feast, and seducing him with her insatiable appetite.  Also, Staceline needed to pee. Staceline had wanted to make a good impression on Kal, and that meant, in Imperial society, showing off some curves. So Staceline had told her cook to feed her twice as much food for a week... But that hadn’t had much effect, so instead she’d chugged a few gallons of milk and eaten twelve pounds of mashed potato before heading out to pick up Kal. But, annoyingly, the gala was late in opening, and sitting in her carriage with three gallons of milk sloshing in her belly had made the evening so far less enjoyable than Staceline had hoped.

“Hey, Kal!” Staceline looked at her date smokily. “I’ve gained some weight for you. Did you notice?”

Staceline drew Kal’s hand over her tummy and made him pat it. This prompted her belly to rumble and shrink visibly as she felt her mashed potato and milk metabolise.

“That’s hot, Stacey.” Kal affirmed, and Staceline smirked. “But, are you sure you didn’t just eat before coming out tonight?”

Staceline gave her date’s hand a stern flick.

“Certainly not. Well, I mean yes, obviously I ate before I came to get you. I didn’t want to reflect badly on you by looking underfed. See how nice I am to you, Kal? But, also, I have been making my cook feed me twice as much this week. Which is a lot, by the way...”

“Yeah. That’s a lot of pancakes, right?”

“It’s so many pancakes my jaw aches, Kal. Plus it’s a lot of weight gain shakes, too. So many quarts of banana and cream... And, y’know, Kal, I own creameries so we’re talking heavy cream here, not whipped cream or skinny milk weight gain shakes. Just so we’re clear. And all this...” Staceline pulled Kal’s arm around her waist and rested on her hips. “... Is because I thought it’d be polite to put on a little weight for you! Happy?”

“Yeah...”

“Good.” Staceline said.

“So that I can tell anyone who asks, Stacey... How much weight did you gain for me?”

Staceline leaned onto her boyfriend. “Meh. Three pounds. But I have a fast metabolism, so you should be fucking grateful.”

“I am, Stacey. You look hot, by the way!”

“Good. You mean gorgeous, right, Kal?”

“Yeah. You also have a lot of sapphires!”

Staceline glanced down at the sparkling necklace that spread over the upper quarter of her silk-clad bosom.

“Oh, this old thing? Well, you know. I need a lot of sapphires to cover up my boobs a bit. You wouldn’t want me to have just boobs on display, would you, Kal?”

Staceline smirked some more when her boyfriend couldn’t reply.

“Oh, you should have said if you just wanted me to go pure boobage tonight. I would have done that for you. It would’ve been easy, and it would have made it easier to eat!  I have to be careful not to dribble cream on my necklace, but boobs I can just get you to lick clean! You are going to stuff me with gallons of cream tonight, aren’t you, Kal? Until my belly can't hold any more, and even I start to dribble a little down my face because I'm so full?”

“Whatever you want Stacey.”

“Okay. That’s a yes, then.” Stacey licked her lips.

 

*

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

We have placed cookies on your device to help make this website better. You can adjust your cookie settings, otherwise we'll assume you're okay to continue.