Donuts and Duchesses

[Batman76]

Poor sienna! Hopefully she'll adapt well to obesity

[flyer33]

Chapter 11: Galleons and Gallons (of Milk)

 

Late summer wind blew from the south, billowed the sails atop the hundreds of ships in the glittering imperial bay, and re-heated the capital city until the morning sweltered with the promise of the year’s hottest day.

Even in Duchess Staceline Voluptua-Fuller Demoore’s opulent and airy townhouse, with its thick stone walls and high sash windows sucking every breeze through the salon, not one resident was comfortably cool. In the case of Lady Alicia Remonte, laying spread-eagled like starfish on her huge silk fainting couch, and sweating like an overfed farmyard beast, not even a bowl of hard-frozen icecream could help. Well, perhaps it would have, if she could have managed to eat any, but Lady Alicia couldn’t! She was simply too full! Her stomach bulged like an overstuffed cushion! Her loose new white day dress, a gift from Lady Staceline, offered room for Alicia to breathe, but the massive feast of the last night’s gala dinner still had Alicia panting.

Now, her over fullness and rising obesity were not bad things at all, in the mind of Lady Alicia! Indeed, they did nothing to dent her mood. For Alicia was in the best of moods, thanks to the marriage proposal she had recently received from the man of her dreams, the rich and fiendishly handsome Lord Bingley Bonkley! Indeed Alicia was positively dazed with happiness at the entire situation – but also stuffed to the brim, such that a spoonful of icecream was out of the question. Six weeks of straining her stomach to the max on dates with the wealthy first son of an affluent noble family, interspersed with gala dinners in the company of her friend Stacey, had totally saturated Alicia’s eating capacity. All she could manage on this sweltering hot morning, was one little bowl with a few fresh apricots in a splash of skimmed milk! It was a scandalously tiny repast, but Alicia’s poor tummy needed a break. She’d pushed herself to the limits with feasting all summer, gaining four stone in the seven weeks of her whirlwind romance! Today, she could not possibly do a thing except rest and digest! At least the milk in her small bowl was chilled – courtesy of her best friend happening to own the canal through which vast amounts of blessedly-cold ice were imported to the empire’s sweltering capital city.

“Oh!” Alicia sighed. “Such a month, we’ve had, Stacey!”

From the other side of the salon, where she sat perched with her pert ass on an antique ebony side-table with a slender but solid frame, Lady Staceline Demoore voiced her agreement with Alicia’s remark before returning to her other conversations. She wore a somewhat-formal dress of white silk, just barely reaching to her lower thighs, and covering most of her bosom so that only about eight inches of cleavage were on show to torment her secretaries’ blood pressure.

Staceline Demoore was multi-tasking.

Task number 1, for Stacey, was her marriage. Alicia had absolutely no idea how it was possible for Stacey to do anything besides fizz with excitement over her upcoming wedding – her royal wedding, to a handsome young prince, no less! Alicia viewed it as impossible for any sensible woman’s mind to contain anything but ecstatic delight at the prospect. Indeed, she herself could think of little else! But Stacey was conversing with two secretaries and five assistants, on details that extended far beyond the decorations, feasts, and guest lists that a traditional noblewoman would concern herself with. It was all far too much thinking! Of course, Alicia rolled her eyes, Stacey wouldn’t ever settle for “traditional” behaviour if “shockingly unconventional” were an option.

Speaking of traditional versus shocking behaviour, Lady Alicia heartily approved of Stacey’s task number 2, which was a far more respectable thing for a royal bride-to-be. Fattening herself up to a respectable marriage weight! Although Stacey had flatly refused the traditional expectation that a royal bride must be far too fat to ride a horse on her wedding day, and preferably too fat to walk unaided, she’d reluctantly agreed that an imperial princess ought to be at minimum curvy. Lest the people of the empire be upset! She’d therefore, much to Alicia’s delight, instructed Mrs Apfel the cook to feed her up – even more than Mrs Apfel’s usual efforts, which would already be super-fattening for any normal young woman who lacked Stacey’s blast furnace metabolism! Even better, Stacey had agreed to second an extra chef from the royal palace just for the purpose of bulking up with high-fat treats and snacks of the most royal variety. That chef was Mrs Rounde – round by both name and nature – who hovered next to Lady Staceline with a sizzling tray of delectable (and very high-fat) spiced meats and fried potatoes. At any occasion when Stacey appeared to finish a sentence and await a response from one secretary or another, Mrs Rounde would deftly proffer a large piece of fried meat or potato on chopsticks, and Stacey would dutifully open her mouth, snaffle the food, and consume diligently. Six weeks of such treatment, on top of Stacey’s spectacular appetite for pasta and pancakes, was having an effect! Alicia was delighted that Stacey must be up almost a stone in weight, to a good 170 lbs! Not that 170lbs was very much – Alicia had been fatter than that at finishing school, and she was less tall than Staceline. But it was a start! And there was no doubt in Alicia’s mind, even with Stacey’s terrifying metabolism, that her best friend would bulk at the very least an appealing 15 stone by the day of her royal wedding in the spring! Hopefully even more!

There was one slight concern, in Alicia’s mind. Stacey didn’t do “dutiful”, “obliging”, or “respectable” very well, or for very long, before something went wrong. And the longer the headstrong Duchess had to dutifully put up with Mrs Rounde’s spoonfeeding her during business meetings, the more spectacularly Alicia feared her friend would erupt in pent-up rage when she finally exceeded her tolerance for regal pampering. Not that Alicia would have minded such treatment! If Alicia’s tummy could had handled a quarter so many calories as Stacey’s, she would happily have let her cook spoonfeed her all day long, every day, and enjoyed it immensely! With Stacey, however, Alicia had been her closest confidante long enough to recognise the warning signs of an arched eyebrow or sharp glare, and could see it was only going to be a matter of time before Stacey found some outrageous or scandalous way to express her displeasure at being treated like the royal princess she was very soon to be!

“So, is my new yacht finally ready, Captain Whale?” Lady Staceline sharply brought one line of conversation firmly to an end, and directed entirely new topic at another of her subordinates who sat on chairs beyond the black desk of her busy personal steward.  

Stacey had apparently concluded task 3 to her satisfaction – apprising herself of the aftermath of the capitol city’s Cream Crisis, and the scandalous trial and conviction of the villainous Duke Creamer for inflicting severe tummy ache and immense weight gain on so many of the most lovely debutantes in the empire! And her task 4 – demanding the authorities pursue his accomplices in the semi-mythical “Cult of Cream.” And task 5 – dealing with Stacey’s far-flung estate management, and directing cash flows so large Alicia was sure their finishing school had never taught them words for describing sums of money with so many zeroes. Which brought matters to task 6: Staceline’s new “yacht”, if indeed “yacht” were an adequate name for her Raptor.

“Aye, Lady Staceline!” Answered a nautical voice, much distinct from her financial and legal secretaries. “Finally! But the wait be worth it, for there be and never have been no faster ship on the Seven Seas! Or my name be not Captain Wellard Whale!”

Ooooh!

Lady Alicia’s ears pricked up, and she felt a tremendous thrill. She was tremendously looking forward to the maiden voyage of Stacey’s Raptor! The yacht was to be the finest “clipper” in the history of the world! Alicia wasn’t exactly sure what a “clipper” was, but she did know Raptor was more expensive than anyone else’s yacht and that was the important thing! The looks of sheer envy from school-friends and high nobility alike, when Alicia stood next to Stacey on the top deck of the Empire’s most expensive pleasure boat, would be a thing to remember for years to come! A story for the grandchildren, even.

Drawing herself up on the couch, Alicia saw that Stacey, too, was licking her lips at the prospect of showing off before the cream of imperial society on her wonderful new yacht.

“The engineer is happy with the new rigging?” Stacey demanded.

“Aye, Lady Staceline! She’ll run with skysails and moonrakers on fore and main!” Boomed the nautical voice. It came from a barrel-shaped man of middle years with a thick, black beard. Captain Wellard Whale was Stacey’s choice for her personal yacht. Apparently he was very good.

Stacey’s next question gave Alicia pause.

“How soon can we take her to Archaea?”

“At your pleasure, Lady Staceline.”

Archaea?

Alicia gasped.

Archaea was half way across the world! Its islands were the farthest eastern outpost of Empire! True, Stacey did possess a few titles to some small estates there, and she had talked about visiting one day. But to travel anywhere so distant from the capital was far beyond what a respectable unmarried noblewoman would do! Especially when she had a wedding to arrange, and a royal wedding at that! And lots of weight to gain, for respectability!

Alicia hauled herself up to a sitting position, with a burp.

“Archaea?” Alicia exclaimed. “Stacey, surely you mean Ashcotte?”

Ashcotte was a coastal town with a famous racecourse, about a day’s travel by carriage from the Capitol. The trip there would be a more than respectable distance for Stacey to show off her new yacht! Plus, people could admire the grand yacht all the way there and back, because it would be near the coast - whereas there could be very few people to admire Raptor if she were way out in the middle of the high sea!

Much to Alicia’s dismay, Staceline’s expression brightened in a way that typically meant she was about to do something frightfully forward or recklessly adventurous.

“Nope! I mean Archaea, Alicia. I actually don’t have a choice in the matter! I’m legally obliged to visit my Archaean estate before I can marry.” Staceline announced smugly, with a nod towards one of her lawyers. “Isn’t that right, Lex?”

“Technically, yes, Your Grace.” The tall, thin lawyer named Lex confirmed, without elaborating.

“But why, Stacey?” Alicia protested.

Stacey’s smirk broadened. She raised a finger while she finished chewing a mouthful of spiced lamb, before replying.

“Becaush, Alicia, the Island Barony of Kurvos is actually my oldest continually-extant title, and it has special rules. One being, I have to visit before I’m allowed to wed. And, since I have a sparkly new yacht, and I want to see Archaea anyway, we’re going!”

Alicia’s eyes widened in alarm at the prospect, but she was too well brought up to argue with her friend and employer, the Duchess. Soon, anyway, Stacey finished dealing with her crowd of secretaries and assistants, dismissed them, and crossed the salon to sit next to Alicia, who was fanning herself against the rising heat.

Mrs Rounde appeared with a new tray of high-fat pastries, Stacey having eaten all the spiced meats on her previous tray in a most satisfactory display of applied gluttony. But Stacey was plainly bored of gorging and gave the royal chef a dark glare until she tactfully departed. That done, Stacey patted her chest above her boobs until she gave a huge BURP and a sigh of relief.

“I’m so fucking stuffed, Alicia! I can’t believe that woman feeds me while I’m trying to boss my staff about! It’s so embarrassing. Not to mention, she can’t tell the difference between meal-times and any other time of day. I swear, she makes me fucking eat all the time. Ugh!”

“Mrs Rounde is only helping you, Stacey!” Alicia replied sweetly. “Which you need. Because your metabolism makes it so very hard for you to gain! And she’s a genius with pastry! She’s a Royal Chef, and I swear I’ve never felt fatter than after she cooks us a roast dinner with all the palace-style puddings! And I think you’ve put on a stone because of her!” Alicia’s tone made clear that all of these considerations were equally excellent.

“Fucking great.” Staceline huffed. “Just what I always wanted! And it’s ten pounds, by the way.”

Alicia looked doubtful. “But Stacey, your tummy looks so big! And your bottom and thighs are definitely fuller! And, well, we both know you’ve always been top heavy, but I think it’s even more now, Stacey! You must get the bustlines of all your dresses extended again! Else you’ll be spilling out of them at the palace. And you mustn’t do that in front of the Emperor and Empress!” She positively oozed happiness at the mention of Stacey dining with the royal family.

Burp.

“Thanks.” Stacey gave her friend a dirty look.

“You’re very welcome, Stacey!” Alicia replied brightly.

Stacey drummed her fingers on a side table. Archaea. Kurvos Island was fifteen hundred miles away – not, as Alicia imagined, halfway around the world. But an imposing distance for the unadventurous blonde... Even with Raptor, Stacey would be away on an eastern adventure for weeks. It would be tough to ask Alicia, who was recently engaged to marry, and doubtless eager to fuck her handsome-if-braindead fiancé, to come along.

“I think, Alicia, you should stay here and look after my townhouse while I’m I Archaea. I’ve put off all the decisions about flower arrangement and cake-chefs at my wedding, and I think you, Cia, are the perfect girl to decide all of them for me! I will defer entirely to your judgement about flowers and cakes! Which will really need you to be here...” Stacey began.

Alicia’s eyes bulged, as her emotions pulled in different directions. She was terribly scared by the prospect of a sea voyage to the edge of the world, but still...

“But, Stacey! I can’t let you go on your own! I have to look after you!” Alicia bemoaned. “Even though I should love to stay close to my beloved Bingley, and... Wait, could I host a party to entertain him, at the house?”

“Of course you can, Alicia. And you must. I insist! After all...” Stacey pushed on the white silk dome of Alicia’s day dress, where it draped over her overstuffed cushion of a belly. The blonde burped in relief, as Stacey’s forceful touch drove out some gas that had been making her uncomfortable. “You still need to get much fatter for your wedding, Alicia! And I absolutely insist you stay here so Mrs  Rounde and Frau Apfel can feed you up properly! That way, I can have the enjoyment of imagining how happy Bingley will be when he sees you spilling out of the amazing wedding dress I’m going to buy you...”

“Okay, Stacey. If you insist.” Alicia trembled. “But you will be alright, won’t you?”

Staceline smirked to herself. Fattening up her blonde best friend had been, in fact, more Stacey’s doing that Lord Bonkley’s, not that either of the lovebirds realised. Stacey felt slightly guilty for all the times she’d talked Alicia into gorging herself on extra dessert “to please Bingley” when she was already painfully overstuffed. But overfeeding Alicia was one of Stacey’s few vices; and her conscience was soothed by how happy and excited Alicia was every time she hit a new “fattest ever” weight. Hence Alicia being, by the end of her debutante season, way over twenty stone and possessing the start of a cute third chin.

“Obviously I’ll be alright, Alicia. Remember, I have a super-thicc ex royal bodyguard to take care of me now.”

“Oh, yes. Sienna!” Alicia smiled. She liked Stacey’s new bodyguard. Sienna had been Prince Hadria’s bodyguard, until the hideous Creamer Gallery incident when she’d been fattened up and obliged to retire from Royal protection. Stacey had hired her, though. And Alicia approved: Sienna was very loyal, very strong, and very diligent in making sure Lady Staceline kept her strength up by eating properly – which, to Alicia, meant at least seven times a day.

“Yep.”

Alicia pondered happily.

“Well I suppose I could stay here, and sample cakes and things for your wedding, Stacey. But won’t you be terribly disappointed not to enjoy doing all that yourself?”

“Nope. I want to see Archaea. Oh, and I’m going to visit Fatzantium while I’m over there...”

Fatzantium.

“Fatzantium!” Alicia gasped. “The capital of the Fattoman Empire! But why?”

Stacey patted her friend’s billowing belly, causing more burps to escape.

“Oh, you know. The Empress invited me for a social call. Plus, their Imperial Cult is electing her successor, because she’s completed her five year term and she’s now too fat to perform her ceremonial duties with the imperial harem any more... And I’ve been invited to oversee the competition, as an honoured representative of a friendly neighbour of long standing! On account of being a Duchess, y’know.”

“Oh!” Alicia’s eyes boggled. “But won’t that mean you have to spend even longer on an arduous sea voyage? I’m just afraid you might lose weight, Stacey, if you’re away from Mrs Rounde’s cooking for so long!”

Stacey rolled her eyes, and patted her slightly-thick hips through her light dress.

“That’s your concern, Alicia? I might lose weight? Have you any idea how much the Fattoman Empress feeds her guests at her imperial court?”

“Um. No...” Said Alicia.

“Hmm. Let’s just say the Fattoman Empress is likely to make Mrs Rounde look like she’s trying to starve me skinny.”

At that, Alicia’s lips curled upward into a broad smile.

“Oh! That’s wonderful, Stacey!” She said.

Stacey sighed. “Sure. Oh, that reminds me. I’m going to go and hide from Mrs Rounde in my garden bedroom. If you see Yvette, can you tell her to send Kal to me?”

Alicia nodded in agreement.

Kal was Stacey’s cute medical student friend – she’d hired him, ostensibly, “So that I have a nice doctor around, in case I get tummy ache from all the food Mrs Rounde is feeding me.” In reality, Stacey had hired Kal because she had the world’s heaviest crush on him, and liked keeping a boyfriend around to fuck her whenever she felt horny – which was often, given that she was engaged to a prince and hence had to reduce her courtesan’s guild visits to a respectable number.

“Okay! Do you have a tummy ache, Stacey?”

Stacey gave her friend a cynical look.

“Nope. Just horny. But don’t tell Kal. I like to keep him in suspense!”

 

* *

 

A breeze through the gauzy mesh curtains meant that Staceline Demoore’s leafy and shaded orangery bedroom was the least overheated in her mansion, and probably in the whole imperial capital given that her mansion was already on an airy hill. It was aesthetically pleasing with blossoming trees and vines, and set up with a bed for when Stacey’s main bedroom was too hot, or just for when the Duchess felt like a change of room. Or, in this case, for when she couldn’t be bothered to sneak her boyfriend upstairs to fuck him...

Speaking of aesthetically pleasing.

Kal Aresquay had what Stacey considered a nice, cute physique. Which roughly translated from Staceline’s mind into a human language meant that he had the body of a lightly-muscled demigod, plus very good looks, plus that he was well above average in education and mental acuity. It pleased Staceline no end to give such a fine specimen of humanity basic manual handling tasks to complete, preferably shirtless, while she watched. “Fetch me a jug of milk” followed by “fetch me another jug of milk” was one of her favourites. Alas, Kal Aresquay was smarter than the average imperial boyfriend – though this was partly why Staceline liked him – and was able to find creative work-arounds when Staceline forgot to update her task list.

Arms burning with lactic acid, Kal panted as he set down a severely heavy silver urn which he’d had to carry a long way to Staceline’s garden room. It clanged and sloshed on the stone floor. And Kal smirked at the beautiful Duchess who’d taken it into her mind to date him.

Stacey gave a dark expression, and put her hands on her hips. Her noticeably fuller hips, since she met Kal several weeks ago... She tried to glare angrily at him for admiring what Mrs Rounde had done to her figure, making clear his ardent drooling lust. But she couldn’t manage it – a treacherous part of her mind refused to be angry at the cute medic, especially when he was drooling over her. Still, she could pretend.

Stacey glared instead at the four-gallon milk urn sloshing at her feet. Then back at Kal.

“Kal... I said: bring me some milk. Not bring me all the milk!”

“You like milk, Stacey.” Kal smirked back. “You often send me to bring you more. Even when I’m not dressed.”

Stacey bit her lip. She loved sending Kal for milk, straight after sex...

“Hmpff. I like telling you what to do, Kal. So what? You do agree that’s the natural order of things, don’t you?”

Kal met her gaze. “I don’t think you’re going to tell me to bring you more milk this time, Stacey.”

Stacey glanced at the milk urn. The four gallon milk urn.

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t make the mistake of bringing you a two quart jug or a gallon this time... Because I’ve learned you’ll drink it, tease me for not setting you a challenge, and send me back for more. This, on the other hand, is a four gallon bucket!”

Stacey sucked some breath through her teeth.

“It’s an urn, Kal. Not a bucket. They’re completely different.”

“Plus, you’re kind of already stuffed, thanks to your new chef, or Royal chef as Alicia puts it.”

“Sigh. You’re being deliberately impossible today, Kal. I like it. It means you’ve set me an actual challenge. But only because I am kind of stuffed already. Okay.”

Staceline took a deep breath, stretched her back and loosened her shoulders, then dipped elegantly at the knees to raise the milk urn so that she clutched it to her chest, smooshing her boobs in the process. She’d changed her white “business-meeting” day dress for a much skimpier “boyfriend-meeting” equivalent – not that Kal was aware how much effort she’d made to put her boobs on full display for him. On this plus side, there was a lot less dress to get splashed with milk if she fumbled the urn. On the down side, the chilled milk urn was absolutely freezing, and it made her shiver as the icy condensation dripped over her boobs and made her dress turn transparent.

“You think I can’t drink all this, don’t you Kal?” Stacey said resolutely.

“You can’t drink four gallons of milk, Stacey. So I think I win this time.”

Stacey eyed her cute boyfriend.

“I’m thirsty! As it happens.”

“No one’s that thirsty, Stacey.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. I am. Watch and learn, Kal.”

Staceline hauled the milk urn – all forty pounds of it, or so – to her lips and gently tipped. The sheer weight of milk would have made Kal’s biceps tremble after a while, but Stacey’s arms stayed rock solid for ages as she tipped the milk urn ever so slowly to greater angle, slurping, slurping, and slurping milk all the time.

Stacey drank the milk, and Kal watched her feat of unstoppable determination, as her midriff – already well fed with solid food – swelled larger. And larger. One minute. Two minutes. Three. Stacey’s biceps twitched, and she shifted her grip. Kal felt like she was cheating – bearing the milk urn at a steep angle on her preternaturally-buoyant boobs.

Gulp, gulp gulp.

Four minutes of milk chugging. Kal gasped as Staceline found a rhythm of slowing sucking the cold milk until her cheeks bulged like a chipmunk, then swallowing the giant gulp and tipping the vast shiny milk pail a little more. It reached a forty-five degree tilt, and she shifted to hold the cold metal on her epic, bouncy melons, which seemed impervious to the cold. In the process, she “accidentally” have Kal a painfully erotic view of her icewater-soaked mini dress, and her hard, perky nipples. Maybe half an urn gone. Two gallons. Three? Impossible! Three gallons of milk was like twenty-five pounds. But Stacey’s midriff just expanded in a cute dome to handle it. Kal didn’t think she was entirely human!

Finally, three quarters done and cold milk spilling down her cleavage, Stacey lowered the urn. She panted like a girl who’d just emerged from diving in the sea. Except milk, instead of water.

“Burrrp! Ugh.” Stacey gasped for air. Kal put his hands on the still-heavy milk urn

Kal reached for the urn, assuming at three gallons of milk he’d found Stacey’s limit. He hadn’t.

“Hey!” Staceline snapped, before taking on a slightly sick expression and burping a long, drawn out milk burp. “I’m still thirsty! Are you trying to dehydrate me before sex! Bad Kal!”

Kal emitted a throaty, horny sound as Stacey tipped the now-light milk urn back, and downed the entire last gallon of milk in one open-throated chug. Then she tossed the milk urn at him, and stood with a slightly cross eyed expression and burped. She patted her pregnant-looking midriff, through her soaked dress. Obviously it was full of very cold milk – for Stacey shivered slightly, despite also being slick with perspiration from the hot day.

“I’m – urp – still thirsty, Kal!” Stacey lied. “Go get me some more milk! Oh, and then I want to fuck you. So don’t bring too much, or I might get hypothermia and pass out before I get to...”

Kal could only stare with admiration at his sexy, rich paramour’s insatiable appetite.

“Oh, fine!” Staceline added, grabbing Kal’s strong arm and pulling hard towards her bed. “I’m horny too, Kal! Fuck me first, milk later...”

 

* *

[Batman76]

At last, thick STacy!

[flyer33]

17 minutes ago, Batman76 said:

At last, thick STacy!

I hope her boyfriend can survive it! At least, with Chloe, I gave her an incubus boyfriend with inhuman endurance.

Anyway, you've been asking patiently for about 2 years, I believe. Stacey would be the first to remark that 170lbs isn't that thicc! But her wedding does mean she's socially obliged to get thicker, even 15+ stone thicc. And the Fattoman Empire isn't a slimming place to visit!

So, we have lined up, when I can write it: (a) an adventure, with pirates. (Well, obviously there's pirates, because there's a ship.) (b) A visit to the Fattoman Empire, which I'm looking forward to. Deserts and harems FTW!

[Arimnestos]

31 minutes ago, flyer33 said:

I hope her boyfriend can survive it! At least, with Chloe, I gave her an incubus boyfriend with inhuman endurance.

Anyway, you've been asking patiently for about 2 years, I believe. Stacey would be the first to remark that 170lbs isn't that thicc! But her wedding does mean she's socially obliged to get thicker, even 15+ stone thicc. And the Fattoman Empire isn't a slimming place to visit!

So, we have lined up, when I can write it: (a) an adventure, with pirates. (Well, obviously there's pirates, because there's a ship.) (b) A visit to the Fattoman Empire, which I'm looking forward to. Deserts and harems FTW!

Might this link in with the belly dancer story you started?

[flyer33]

45 minutes ago, Arimnestos said:

Might this link in with the belly dancer story you started?

1001 Desert Nights? (Hmm, I should finish that...) Interesting. 1001 Desert Nights explicitly has genies and sorcerers, whereas Donuts and Duchesses is more of a "scientific" world - but the locations would be so far apart that might not matter. I think they're probably separate stories, but it's not impossible.

[>_< 0_0]

No one would have ever guessed that name for the ship 🤨

I actually have a theory that Stacy is, in fact, human, but is either related to witches or is wearing a magical heirloom of some sort. You have a very well-defined type 😏

[>_< 0_0]

aha I found gifs that match what I picture when reading this story. If it’s ever made into a film, it should probably be done in the same style as Beauty and the Beast
https://www.deviantart.com/stadla/art/Good-gummy-bears-855882946
 

https://www.deviantart.com/toongod/art/Bimbettes-GIF-02-877516908

[Batman76]

On 1/16/2022 at 3:10 PM, flyer33 said:

I hope her boyfriend can survive it! At least, with Chloe, I gave her an incubus boyfriend with inhuman endurance.

Anyway, you've been asking patiently for about 2 years, I believe. Stacey would be the first to remark that 170lbs isn't that thicc! But her wedding does mean she's socially obliged to get thicker, even 15+ stone thicc. And the Fattoman Empire isn't a slimming place to visit!

So, we have lined up, when I can write it: (a) an adventure, with pirates. (Well, obviously there's pirates, because there's a ship.) (b) A visit to the Fattoman Empire, which I'm looking forward to. Deserts and harems FTW!

Fuck yes, it feels good for the patience to pay off. Hoping we get some clothing issues with her and some teasing...