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The Ever (Growing) Queens

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A warhammer fantasy story I had too much freetime and too little self control not to write. Its going to be about sixish chapters long, each chapter fairly long.

The first three will be rather wholesome, about the High elf Queen Alarielle getting fat to help her dying race.

The second set of three will be about the dark elf Hag Queen Morathi getting her just deserts with several thousand years of interest added on.

 

I'm going to use a lot of lore terms and what not. They're not that important if you haven't read/played warhammer, but Asur is what the high elves call themselves and they live on an atlantis continent called Ulthuan. Everything else should kind of make sense on its own.

 

The Ever (Growing) Queens, Chapter 1
 
Amid the towering trees of Avelorn, fairest and innermost kingdom of the ringed island continent of Ulthuan, a gaunt figure fell to his knees.
 
"Curse this pollen to all of Khaine's hells," Teclis gasped, the mage's voice a harsh croak against the swell of his own throat, "why the hell does it always have to be summer here?"
 
One bony hand clawed at the magical pendants around his throat in an attempt to fine air, while his other hand desperately pulled a flask from his belt. Downing a long gulp of disgusting healing liquor to suppress his rampant allergies, the High Elf wiped sweat from his forehead as he stared into the endless forest. Countless trees, each of them the girth of a manor house and tall as a hill, stretched on forever across Avelorn's forested landscape. He'd been warned at the coastal settlements that trying to find his way to the Everqueen's court without invitation was hopeless, that the forest was magical and could be navigated only by those with the Everqueen's favor.
 
"It's not like the later isn't handed out with much judgement. If my brother can have so much of it this should be the most traveled high way in the whole kingdom," Teclis muttered to himself, brushing a strand of his hair back behind his slightly pointed ears and striding back to his horse.
 
The useless beast had thrown a shoe several miles back and despite possessing the power to rewrite the fabric of the cosmos with but a word, the wizard couldn't easily reshod the placid beast. Thus the long walk through the endless woods that had pushed the frail wizard's stamina to its very limit. But the horse could at least carry Teclis numerous accoutrements, spell books and trinkets.
 
"Everqueen's favor my bony ass," the elf muttered to himself, pulling a small golden arrow, covered in runes from his saddle bags, "I can navigate without a blonde hussy's say so or I'm no Loremaster. I'll show her rustic magics what a true sorcerer can do."
 
A small incantation was whispered, causing the arrow to levitate from Teclis' hand and spin about, this way and that. Its arrowhead slowed, pointing resolutely ahead...before spinning around again to point exactly the opposite way. Sighing, the wizard grabbed the useless device, only to feel hard metal at his throat.
 
"Now, what do I have here at spear point?" a strong voice said, its husky tone mocking, "Clearly its no Loremaster and its far too gaunt and sickly to be an Asur. Is it some sort of ridiculous goblin I wonder?"
 
Teclis swallowed, his protruding adam's apple bobbing away from the razor sharp spear point, and glared at his captor. She'd stepped out from behind a tree without a sound, clearly having overheard all of his choked grumbling about the living God-Queen who ruled this land. Still, he'd been held captive by far, far worse looking opponents.
 
The other Asur was a true giant for an elf maiden, topping Teclis by nearly a foot. Avelorn's eternal summer had tanned her skin brown as oak bark, contrasting deeply with shining blue eyes and a crimson pony tail hanging to her hips. Most elf maids were lithe and slender, but this woman's hard, muscular frame identified her as a militant Sister of Averlorn more than her leather skirt or ithilmar breast plate. Those intimidating leg muscles were earned with hard exercises and long runs, while the throbbing bulk of her biceps and the calluses on her hands suggesting dawn to dusk weapon practice. She had to have sixty or seventy pounds on Teclis, and there was a certain maturity to her square jawed face that suggested she was in her three hundreds, approaching middle age for an Asur.
 
"Greetings, I am the honored Loremaster Teclis," Teclis said after clearing his throat, "I would deeply appreciate an escort to the court of your glorious monarch, as I recognize by your headband you are one of the Ever Queen's trusted handmaidens."
 
The tall woman laughed, a harsh sound simultaneous with the spearhead edging even closer to Teclis' throat, "You recognize my headband? A great feat given how often your eyes drift to my thighs, perhaps you are the famed mage Teclis. Perhaps not, either way you are an uninvited tresspasser who has insulted the Queen. Why should I not kill you for your impiety?"
 
Glaring, wishing that he had the time for a spell to wipe this insufferably muscular/alluringly thick woman from the face of creation, Teclis swallowed once more.
 
"For one thing, my brother and best friend Tyrion is your beloved Queen's champion and consort," Teclis began to list, trying to keep the usual snide obnoxiousness from his voice, "he will probably be slightly peeved if I die. For another, I come bearing important, nay vital word to the Everqueen. Information that could save our entire race, so if you would but lower the spearhead and point me in the right direction to Ever Queen Alarielle..."
 
....
 
Alarielle pirouetted, spinning on one toe.
 
Ankle length skirts rose high with her momentum, showing off the very tops of her thighs and the bottom of her full cheeks. Smiling at the thought of being so exposed, the hereditary Queen of the Asur let the soft breeze cool the sweat the dance had brought to her lower body. Only when she noticed that she'd fallen behind a few steps from the other dancers of her court did she gather her legs and leap into the waiting hands of her lover.
 
Tyrion caught her easily, her champion's callused hands were broad and strong and he hefted Alarielle high in the air. That said, she couldn't help but notice how his fingers sank a bit into her sides. And when she looked down at his patrician face, she had to peer down rather large looking breasts and between them the slight bump of her belly.
 
"How long has that been there?" Alarielle thought to herself, her handmaiden's issues with lacing up her bodice that morn suddenly quite explainable.
 
Her lover placed her lightly on her feet to continue the meticulous, ritualistic dance, after far too short a break. One of many rites to the mother goddess Isha, it was said to bless those who participated with fertile loins. As her people's high priestess of Isha, Alarielle knew every step of the dance...and that it was due to last a great deal longer.
 
The Queen's breathing grew faster with the beat of the drums and the stamping of feet. Sweat, already beading on her brow, grew heavier and her simple white gown began sticking even tighter to her body. A blush grew on her sunkissed cheeks as she became aware her nipples were entirely visible through the thin fabric, and that the plump orbs were straining against the laces of her bodice.
 
As the ritual dance entered its truly fast portion, Alarielle began to pant. A stitch formed in her flank and a brief touch to that flank found more flank than the Queen was used to having. Speaking of stitches, every few seconds the Queen was hearing one pop over the music. Cramps growing in her thighs, Alarielle longed for nothing but a rest.
 
"Shall I call the dance to an end?" Tyrion whispered to her, his deep voice as always making her heart flutter.
 
"Of course not," she hissed, gasping for air, "a Queen who can't even finish a rite? What will the courtier's say?"
 
She reconsidered when her leg cramped so badly in the next phrase that she almost fell. Only Tyrion kept her from falling and while she didn't mind her head pressing against his chest, the humiliation made her cheeks burn. Biting her full lip, Alarielle forced her body to keep going despite the black spots forming in her vision by the end.
 
Turning to the crowd of hundreds of paired Asur, the elf bowed deeply. She felt her breasts surge, nearly falling from her bodice, but worse heard a small pop at her waist and cool air touching a small patch of her back. Fighting down the flush, she hissed at her lover.
 
"Hand around the back of my waist please," she whispered as the clapping began, "lead me back to the throne."
 
Half holding the Queen up, Tyrion walked her back to the tall throne in the center of the part festival, part camp that was her traveling, woodland court. The stairs seemed torture to her cramping thigh muscles, but the Queen managed them. She sat down heavily, fanning herself with her hand and then blushing beet red when her sensitive ears overheard a whisper.
 
"Her arse is hanging out of that dress, the gluttonous thing is fatter than when she was pregnant," some self important and foolish lordling whispered in the crowd, to titters, "its a wonder she can sit on the throne she's grown so corpulent."
 
She saw Tyrion's face darken. Her lover was the very picture of male Asur valor, the tallest and strongest man there, as gentle to her as a well trained pup yet savage as a wolf when at war. The rage that made him the deadliest sword in the kingdom was at the very edge of breaking out.
 
The Everqueen gripped his wrist as he stood up, "Let him live, I beg you. I would have no deaths at my court."
 
"I cannot let someone insult you so," the swordsman said, free hand on his sword hilt, "without any punishment."
 
"I said do not kill him, I didn't say don't hurt him," Alarielle replied under her breath, "no one gets to call me corpulent."
 
The Queen pretended not to notice the subsequent non-lethal duel and humilating defeat of the loose tongued lord. As she cooled she pretended to be serene, gazing over the frolicking court. Music was everywhere, as was dancing, nimble limbed maids and boys intertwined in the great clearing. Every few seconds some of them would break off towards one of the tents or perhaps the woods if they were daring, their sap clearly rising. That was good, Alarielle's court was visibly smaller than her mothers' had been when she was a child. Every passing year brought the Asur closer and closer to extinction and it seemed she could do nought to stop it.
 
That thought depressed her and the Queen almost called for a plate of sweets to nibble on. Only the feeling of cold wood on her lower back stopped her, the elf might brindle at being insulted but the mocking words had a ring of truth to them. Alarielle's blue eyes glanced around the maidens of her court and saw nothing but lean limbs, flat bellies, modest breasts and lean hips. A glance down saw her dress still plastered to her plump breasts and the slight curve of her stomach, a bulge like she was beginning to show with child.
 
"If only, this comes from no love but of food and wine," Alarielle sighed, crossing her legs and trying to get comfortable on the hard seat, realizing her gown was pinching her waist.
 
As Everqueen, Alarielle's foremost duty was to birth a successor. As the reigning Phoenix King was both her biological father and far too old, Tyrion had helped quite admirably. Alariel's belly began to round within a year of her coronation, a startling speed that no Everqueen before her had matched. She'd spent her time in seclusion and grown quite plump before a difficult birth that had taken another year to fully recover from, even with her great magical powers. Her waist hadn't been quite as slim as it had been before, but far worse than that this dress had fit at the start of the court season.
 
Distracting herself, she cast her eyes around the court again. Her magical powers tugged at her senses, warning her of the approach of a powerful enemy. Alarielle's eyes settled on two figures walking from the woods, one tall and strong and the other frail and gaunt.
 
"Teclis," she said with a smile, recognizing her lover's brother, "how delightful."
 
She meant it. Teclis might be an unsufferable little turd of an Asur who always brought bad news, but there was none more dedicated to the safety of the Kingdom. If he'd risked Avelorn's eternally blooming flowers, it must be for a reason.
 
What made her pale though was the sight of her handmaiden. Cisena was the most senior of her body guards and most trusted advisor, a position she'd held for Alarielle's departed mother. Alarielle had sent her confidant on a mission to the outer kingdoms of crescent shaped Ulthuan to inspect several holy sites and would normally rejoice at her return. But the redheaded Asur was also the mistress at arms for the Everqueen's court, in charge of assuring the weapons skill of the Queen's guards. And the Queen herself, who's heavy chest and noticeable belly were testament to how lax she'd been at any exercise the past several months.
 
"Could this not wait until I had a few months of fasting?" she said to herself, sitting up straight and sucking in her stomach.
 
....
 
The third time Teclis tripped and fell flat on his face, he debated just staying there.
 
Cisena, as the tall redheaded warrior had called herself, set a rapid pace through the woods his frail body couldn't quite keep up with. The strut of her long, powerful thighs not only outpaced him but kept distracting him, the swing of her muscular hips beneath her short leather skirt making his mouth water. Despite his frailty, Teclis' many deeds in Ulthuan's service had earned him no small renown with women. Slender elf maids had never appealed that much to him, on his journey to the human lands in the east he had found the plusher noble girls of the Empire and Brettonia more appealing. Their soft hips and full bellies were far more comforting to the gaunt High Elf than an Asur woman near as spindly as himself. But the sheer strength and fitness of Cisena was rather fascinating to him.
 
"Is walking not a skill taught in the White Tower of Hoeth?" Cesina chuckled, the Handmaiden plucking him off the ground with a single hand, "Or are you so besotted with Avelorn that you wish to embrace its very dirt?"
 
"Rather I wish that this lovably rustic realm had a road," the wizard replied brushing dirt off of his shins and trying to ignore the pleasing flex of her bicep, "when will we arrive at the Queen's court?"
 
"We have, did you go blind learning magic?" Cisena chuckled, "or were  your eyes locked to my hips?"
 
Teclis glowered at noticing the rings of tents fifteen feet away, sounds of music and festival rising over them. They should have been visible from when he'd first met Cisena minutes earlier and he cursed the rustic magic and the enchanting twitch of his escorts rump under his breath.
 
"As if you had hips, please take me to your mistress," the Elf said, picking his horse's reins up from where he'd dropped them, "before this accursed realm kills me."
 
Cisena led him through the festival, Teclis almost being knocked over by a giggling pair of elf maids hurrying to the woods hand in hand, free hands undoing their bodices, pursued by four different men. The book loving wizard had never felt more out of place, even among the short lived humans, than he did among the frivolous, free love air of the Everqueen's Court.
 
After a moment of walking, he was led to a tall throne in the center of the court. Two handmaidens of similar, if less towering build than Cisena flanked it with stringed bows and on it sat Alarielle.
 
"Everqueen, I have found this interloper wondering in your realm uninvited," Cisena said, bowing to the very grass.
 
"I believe he has been enough service to Ulthuan to be forgiven a minor insult," Alarielle smiled, making Teclis heart skip a beat.
 
Not a complete boor, Teclis followed, his eyes not leaving the Queen.
 
"Tell me, honored Loremaster and brother of my beloved," the devastating Queen began, "what brings you to my realm?"
 
"I bring news of great import, your Grace," Teclis responded, "one that will influence our entire civilization."
 
"I see," Alarielle said, pursing her lips, "unfortunately you have a reputation for bearing ill tidings with you. What is this fresh disaster?"
 
Errant pollen made Teclis sneeze, hard enough for his back to pop. He used the sniffles afterwards to look over Alarielle, although this wasn't the first time they had met. She, his brother and himself had helped defeat an invasion by the vile Druchii two years before, rallying Ulthuan's ever shrinking armies. It was then that Tyrion and Alarielle had fallen in love and the mage noted that she had changed since then.
 
Just looking at the Ever Queen was like starring directly into the sun for a mage of course. She was a powerful sorceress and the living embodiment of the mother goddess Isha, one that made Teclis feel weak. And her physical beauty of course was perfect.
 
Just into her second century, Alarielle wore her youthful beauty easily, with no need for her golden crown or jewels or even a fancy dress to earn the title "Radiant". Unbraided blonde hair poured from her head, a golden waterfall that went all the way to her knees and seemed to change color with every small movement: strawberry blonde when she inhaled, platinum when she shifted her head, ashen when she exhaled. Her face was shaped like a heart, gentleness and kindness beaming from her shining white smile, cutely upturned nose and smooth cheeks, the youthful freckles that she covered up with makeup at court seeming precious as gold. The woman seemed so impossibly innocent, Teclis could barely connect her to the magical devastation she had wrought in the past war, killing Dark Elves by the hundred with her power.
 
She was also, noticeably plumper than when Teclis had seen her last. Alarielle's cheeks bones were fading, cheeks looking ripe as apples. Her bare arms looked oh so soft, the shoulders just starting to bite at her shoulders. The swell of her breasts tested the white fabric of her bodice to the very breaking point, equal to two of any other woman Teclis had seen on the walk in. It was laced so tightly her bosom seemed to levitate and the threads were visibly starting to fray. While her chest drew the eye like a magnet drew iron filings, the wizard couldn't help but notice the slight bulge at the Everqueen's waistline, wrinkles of fabric pulling tight around it. Or how her dress, which showed everything from dainty knees to perfect toes, also displayed the healthiness of Alarielle's calves.
 
"For once, my Queen," Teclis said, "I bring good tidings. But I believe we should discuss this in private. The news is of a somewhat...sensitive subject."
 
.....
 
A private meeting with the Ever Queen, even in her somewhat loose court, was an event that had requirements.
 
Alarielle would not be able to hear such a message with grass stains on her bare feet and sweat on the dress a farm girl might wear. She had to be dressed in her finery, which meant she had to be bathed. And given her four feet of golden hair, bathing wasn't a quick process.
 
Inside her massive tent, the Queen leaned back in a large hip tub, feet hanging over the edge as her attendant Sailira brushed her long mane and began weaving it into ceremonial braids. After the hard dance, the cool water helped her muscles relax, although it brought color to her cheeks that Alarielle had never needed such help after a simple fertility rite. Or how her tummy emerged out of the soap suds like a new island rising from the sea.
 
Alarielle glanced to her left, where her hand maiden, Jalissa was buffing the Queen's nails. The beautiful brunette's stomach was flat enough to use as a writing desk. A glance to her right saw another svelte attendant Raella was ironing the royal gown, hips pressing against her gown as she leaned into the task. A solid gold dwarven coin could bounce off of her tight butt.
 
The Queen made herself not squirm, a task that became harder when Cisena entered the room.
 
"Ladies, the Queen and I must speak alone," the chief handmaiden ordered, the other three servant guards leaving before the Queen could speak.
 
Alarielle privately seethed, she was the Ever-Queen, a woman grown with a daughter of her own, and Cisena was about to speak to her like she was a naughty little girl with her hand caught in the cookie jar. And worse, she'd be right.
 
"Cisena, I am gladdened to have you back at court," the Queen said, not meeting her body guard's eyes.
 
"And I am gladdened to be back. Let me be frank, Alarielle. While I was journeying on the eastern coast, I heard rumors, ridiculous ones about you. The petty lords and princes always gossip about their betters and I gave tales that you were losing your beauty and with it Isha's favor, no credence," the muscular redhead said stiffly.
 
"As you should," the Queen answered haughtily, knowing what was coming.
 
'Alarielle," the much older body guard began, in the same tone that she'd used when the Queen was a child being taught to use a sword, "you've gone to seed. Your breasts pour from your bodice and your belly rests on your lap. When you looked down from your throne, fat bulged beneath your chin. Your appearance is slovenly and shameful. I was told you could barely complete a simple dance today and that you ate sweets by the plate at luncheon."
 
The Ever Queen glared, the words cutting to the quick, "I had a child Cisena, blessing of Isha or not I will not simply bounce back. And there was a cooking contest I was asked to judge, it would be rude to refuse..."
 
Her words dragged off as her bodyguard's lead down, strong fingers pinching the fat above her ankle.
 
"Your stomach was flat when you sent me hence," the guard said, "and you did not have...whatever you would call this flab on your ankle either. I thought I could trust you to yourself, you are a battle proven Queen yet I am gone for a few months and find you almost as plump as when you were with child. Your authority rests with your grace and appearance, Alarielle, with your ability to inspire. If you become a figure of ridicule at the Phoenix King's court, the Ever Queen who grew rotund they will call you, you will be powerless. Unable to influence the nobles to support the right policies, unable to set up marriages and alliances. You must show some discipline."
 
Alarielle glared downwards, "I know, alright? I know I've grown too heavy, I am well aware. I just...was stressed. I have a great responsibility and desired merely to be a maiden at ease, not a Queen responsible for a dying race."
 
"I know," the body guard sighed, "but duty is what you must be. Your mother would know that."
 
Alarielle's mother had died only a few years ago, assassinated before her daughter could fully achieve her station. The new Queen had struggled ever since to fully master all of her duties and knew it.
 
"Indeed," the bathing woman sighed, standing from the water, "Well, let us see if I may squeeze into my gown yet. I can at least hope that Teclis brings some sort of good news for once."
 
"I doubt it, no one so runty can ever carry good news," Cisena muttered.
 
....
 
"You're smiling," Tyrion glared at his brother in the Queen's waiting room.
 
"Of course I'm smiling, I'm at the Ever Queen's court where all is grand," Teclis coughed, wiping his nose with a handkerchief, "why wouldn't I be smiling?"
 
"Because you're a miserable bastard who's never happy save for when he can say "I told you so"," his much taller, more muscular brother said, "Its why I had to beat the piss out of so many people when we were boys."
 
"No, no be fair brother. You've had to beat the shit out of a lot of people when we were adults too," the wizard said, "speaking of, why were you cutting that fool's ear off as I walked in?"
 
Tyrion's face glowered even more, "...He'd foolishly insulted the Queen. I would have killed him but for Alarielle's words."
 
"Yes, killing one of the remaining members of our race over words," Teclis snorted, "although anyone who'd insult the Queen in front of you should perhaps be removed from the bloodline. Tell me though, are you enjoying being the Queen's champion? Does your heart still burn in passion for her?"
 
His brother glared again at him, the stoic warrior clearly growing annoyed, "Brother, I love you as only family can. But I will hitch your underwear over your head as when we were children if you dare speak against the Queen."
 
Teclis grinned, showing the lines of stress and exhaustion around his eyes, "ah but I do not jest. For once, the Queen struck me as a picture of loveliness today. Just seeing her made me happier."
 
"As usual, I am uncertain what your game is, but if you make an ass of yourself..." Tyrion began to say, only for the curtain separating the sitting room and the Queen's private chambers to be drawn.
 
Alarielle entered in her full regalia, her beauty a physical blow in its intensity. Her gown was so bright it glowed, switching between a leafy green and a brilliant white with each soft step, thin fabric showing the shadowy outline of her legs. Tight lacing had tugged her waist into a waspish narrowness, while elevating her breasts towards the clouds. The mane of her hair was done up in an immense braid and pulled through the headress of her crown, rising a foot above the young Queen's head. Outside she'd appeared the most beautiful maid at a town fair, enchanting and alluring but now, she looked very much a god. The two brothers forgot their squabbling and bowed deeply.
 
"I believe, that you had words for me," the Queen said, settling onto a chair carefully, her bodice laced clearly too tightly, "concerning the safety of Ulthuan. And that for once, you had good news."
 
"I do your highness," the wizard grinned wryly, "for you see it involves your weight...and why it has to increase..."

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About three paragraphs in, I suddenly realized that I actually know the setting and characters— the Total War series made a couple games for warhammer, and I played them both with my friends for a little bit (I played some lizard faction and my king was a fat mage with a floating throne).

 I’m so glad you dropped this here because ever since you mentioned it, I was curious what it would look like — very slim, with one chubbette, so far. No clue why the queen needs to bulk, but that just makes me more interested.

the lord of the rings GIF

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Yeah, with the exception of the handmaiden, all of the characters so far are legendary lords for that game.

 

this is how Alarielle looks there:

 

image.thumb.png.d38664484da38da9a156da45809c3bdc.png

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You have a great talent for writing about self-indulgent queens. This story is beautiful and already quite sexy. Can't wait for the next chapter! 

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"Your weight, your highness," Teclis said, "and why it has to increase...well, more than it has."
 
Had Alarielle not earned the title "Radiant" by being blessed with long legs, an hour glass figure, silky hair and a face so beautiful it seemed to glow, she would have been called "the Kind".
 
Despite being raised with every need met, the elf maid was not self obsessed or self important. She gave generous alms to the poor, made a place in her court for orphans and widows from the latest Dark Elf Invasion of Ulthuan and ensured her servants always ate first. But her kindly smile froze into an angry grimace when Teclis brought up her weight.
 
Alarielle had been praised deeply for her looks, for her lithe figure and high breasts and smiling face. And as a child, criticized for her gluttonous appetite. She was naturally a slugabed and a big eater, she enjoyed a dance or a ride or a swim...but weapon practice or hard exercise were not to her taste. That her appetites might bury her beauty, that the easy acceptance and generous compliments would turn to revulsion and snide comments, as they already were...
 
"Your words sir, are not to my liking. I will give you one chance to explain yourself and then, brother to my love or not, hero of the realm or not, you will face consequences," Alarielle said very carefully, her beautiful eyes blazing with barely controlled rage.
 
Outside, the warm evening began to drastically cool beneath a cold wind. Jet storm clouds gathered on the horizon and thunder began to rumble. Alarielle might have the appearance of a farmer's pretty daughter, but the power of the very Gods lived within her and when her anger was roused, armies died.
 
Teclis took another moment to clear his throat, doing a good job to keep the fear from his voice,"I speak not as an insult dearest Everqueen, but as a matter of frank and honest fact. Our race is dying, it is known by everyone with eyes to see it. Lothern, our greatest city, is half empty and our militia must draft maiden and knave to even man our defenses. The world rightly holds our maidens as the fairest in the world, women who hold their youth, beauty and fertility for long centuries and yet they are lucky to have a single child and it is held a miracle if a second, such as myself is born."
 
Rage fading as soon as it had appeared, Alarielle rolled her eyes, a juvenile movement that momentarily ruined the ageless effect of her regalia, "Of course I know that. I go to bed knowing that and think of it first thing upon waking. Every day I lead prayers and chants to Isha that my country women may quicken yet so few do. Once so many High Elves filled the kingdoms we had to colonize half the world merely to preserve our own lands. Now, when I go riding it is past abandoned castles that stand guard over villages long overgrown with trees and weeds. We can barely defend ourselves and some speak of a need to abandon the outer kingdoms of our island."
 
Teclis merely smiled, "Of course, your dutiful responsibility and towering intellect is matched only by your vibrant beauty. But, most majestic of monarchs, I, alone of all the scholars and mages who have tried to answer the question of why we dwindle, have the answer, found with that most difficult of magical arts, statistics."
 
Tyrion snorted, the muscular elf glaring at his brother, "Teclis, this is not the time to act superior. Out with it."
 
The wizard, clearly soaking up the attention of his audience, merely grinned, "Majesty, I know one should never question a lady's age, but you will turn 102 this year, will you not?"
 
Alarielle fought down a blush, she was the youngest Everqueen ever to take the throne, the human equivalent of a maiden not yet twenty. Many had questioned her wisdom and judgement, even after her great victory over the sadistic dark elves of Naggaroth. The growing plumpness of her features didn't help, her cheeks were chubbier than they had any right to be, risking her looking adorable rather than majestic. An over consumption of sweets was seen as a sign of youthful ill discipline, for a mature Asur beauty would have next to no fat on her body.
 
"You are correct, learned mage, although you and your gallant brother are near the same age I would remind," the Queen reminded pointedly, glad she'd covered up her freckles with powder, "what has this to do with either Ulthuan's fecundity or...the other matter."
 
"I am that rarest of things, a younger sibling," Teclis went on, "and am only a few months your junior. In fact, I was conceived while your departed mother, Isha watch over her, was pregnant with you. A minor detail...except that in my studies every other younger sibling of our generation was also conceived while you were gestating. Indeed, half the Asur of our generation are within a few months of your age, having been conceived in the same period."
 
Alarielle felt her curiosity rise, "That is...a remarkable coincidence. More than a coincidence, the Everqueen is Isha's representative in mortal lands, an icon of fertility. In some way, metaphysical perhaps, I am linked to every Asur woman that lives. It makes sense that when an Everqueen is with child our people would be more easily blessed."
 
"Indeed, while you were pregnant the rates saw a similar increase," Teclis grinned, "and I have charts to prove this. At first I had assumed the same, only a few weeks ago at an unbearably awful faculty meeting at the White Tower, the head sorceress of the Wind of Metal announced she was going on sabbatical due to an unexpected pregnancy. I did some digging, among the two hundred female staff and students at the White Tower, five of them have found themselves pregnant in the last three months. That rate is higher than at any time save your own pregnancy and it is a rate that is increasing, along with well..."
 
The Everqueen was a deeply loving woman and happy for others. She'd listened intently to the story, so much that her sucked in stomach had relaxed into a visible pooch. That Tyrion was now pointing at.
 
"I can assure you though that despite the amount of...passion I have felt this season," the Everqueen said, sucking her stomach back in, with a glance to her champion, "that I am not pregnant."
 
"Yes," the socially graceless wizard went on, "but an unknowing observer might be forgiven for making such a mistake. It is not often one sees a lady of the Asur with a ** belly."
 
Alarielle blushed from her navel to the roots of her hair, her embarrassment at having her grossly apparent weight gain pointed out cut short by a sharp thud. Cisena had used her spear butt to sweep the wizard's legs out from under him and then kneel on his chest, a dagger in her hands. Tyrion was right behind her, his long sword drawn and blazing with runic power.
 
"You do not, ever insult the Queen so," Cisena hissed to the gasping wizard.
 
"Cisena," Alarielle said bashfully, "I am the plumpest girl in this court by twenty pounds, if not thirty. Anyone with eyes to see it knows, let him speak."
 
Begrudgingly, her bodyguard let the wizard stand up. Teclis coughed for long moments and the Queen had to summon a bit of magic and heal the nasty bruises and contusions he'd suffered. He glared at Cisena and then went on.
 
"My thanks your majesty. I do not say this as an insult, indeed the added weight suits you commendably, your beauty is so powerful it makes me want to weep knowing I will not always be there to see it. But others with worse judgement had noticed. I had heard rumors in the taverns and courts that you had tarried so long in Avelorn, away from the King's court in Lothern, because you had grown so fat you couldn't mount a horse. Clearly an exaggeration, even if to be honest you were always too thin, but when I considered the rising fertility rates, I realized the connection was not per se the Everqueen's pregnancy, but her weight," Teclis went on proudly, "Traditionally of course the standard for Asur beauty is of a slender, delicate maiden, but a deep dive into the historical archives proves that this was not always the case."
 
Alarielle was not immune to flatter, nor unaware of the glance Teclis had given her chest. Given her lower mood at her increasing size she was not grossly offended, but she did have to speak up.
 
"Truly? I am not a graduate of the White Tower but I am trained in the rites and folklore of my station. I have seen the stained glass windows and the statues in the cathedrals, even ones long abandoned and forgotten to all outside my line," Alarielle said, "and my ancestors were all depicted as being wasp buzzed."
 
"True, they were depicted as such. But the Asur were not always so sophisticated a race," Teclis explained, "Most of our visible high art comes from a later period, after we had to abandon our colonies and began to dwindle. Before that, we were a much more...crude race who used song and poetry long lost to time as art. Almost none of it survives outside the tower, but I found snatches, recorded second hand that painted a different picture. Long ago, even by our standards, when the tides of chaos first broke loose, the ancient Asur bred like rabbits. Aenarion the Defender, savior of the world and our ** ancestor, marched to war with hundreds of thousands of warriors. There are references to lords riding to the muster with ten or twelve sons in their train."
 
"Twelve? And just sons?" Cisena said, "But...Isha I had thought the numbers in the old myths were just exaggerations."
 
"It seems they were not. Asur in those days had to try and avoid having children, some of the sex positions they left behind are most interesting but I digress," Teclis coughed, "And the Everqueen then, your distant ancestor was well...I have an artifact, Alarielle that will say a thousand words."
 
He pulled from his pocket a small golden icon and handed it over. It took a moment for the Queen to realize that it was of a naked and immensely fat woman, if she had been of living flesh, she'd have been four or five times the size of the Queen. Wide as she was tall at the hips, with legs thicker than tree trunks partly blocked by a calf length apron of a gut and breasts bigger than her head.
 
"This is an icon of Isha found in a ruined temple within the human Empire, when it was one of our colonies," Teclis explained, "a far cry from the lithe goddess in our current shrines. The Everqueen herself was much, much bigger."
 
Alarielle blinked, looking up from the mesmerizing bulges and curves, "Bigger you say? A woman could be bigger than this?"
 
"Well, yes. Any child knows that Everqueen Astarielle, Aenarion's wife, died in the first invasion of the chaos daemons. What is not known is that she died because...," Teclis grew uneasy, "it is not easy to say this. Because she was too big to be removed from the palace temple she was in. Twenty handmaidens were unable to shift her and died to defend her."
 
Alarielle had been thinking of what it would be like to be as fat as the icon. Already she wasn't much smaller than she'd been when pregnant and could almost imagine what it would be like to waddle, having to bounce her belly fat off of her knees to take a shaky step forwards with feet blocked by her swollen breasts. Now she thought of herself even bigger, too big to even stand, trapped by her own bulk and able to do nothing, to never have to exercise or rise early again, to do not but eat whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted...
 
"I...see," the devastating Queen said, crossing her thighs, "but I imagine things changed with her death."
 
"Yes, Asur society became harsher and more warlike, the end of the world was thought to be at hand after all. Aenarion's followers valued military skill and endurance and his next Queen Morathi was slim as she was cruel," the wizard said, shivering as he named the foul queen of the dark elves, "although Astarielle's daughter lived, she was merely very heavy and often mocked for her gluttony. Her daughter was just a little chubby and so on. The birth rate began falling as the Queen's shrank, until we reach today."
 
Alarielle considered it. It seemed foolish, almost idiotic but...the words had a ring of truth. She looked down at the Icon, biting her lip.
 
"We must test this wizard," the Queen said aloud, "Cisena I hate to ignore your advice, but any jibes over my figure will have to be bourne. If we can arrest the decline of the Asur..."
 
"You cannot believe this charlatan, Alarielle," her guard sneered, "clearly this is some fool jest on his part."
 
"I never joke," Teclis claimed.
 
"Or rather he never jokes when he can be harmed by the fallout. And the Queen losing her reputation would harm him," his brother reminded, "Alarielle, what he says is ridiculous but he at least believes he is telling the truth."
 
The Queen moistened her lips, "Cisena, Teclis, you are dismissed. Tyrion, stay and...advise me."
 
She waited a moment while her grumbling guard and the smug wizard left the room. Looking over her lover, taking in the breadth of his shoulders and the hardness of his muscles, the Queen began to feel giddy. Alarielle shifted in her throne, adjusting the tight fit of her bodice and oversnug belt against her waist, as she eyed the hard bulge of his muscles against his tunic, feeling herself moisten. Outside, the rain began to fall.
 
"Tyrion, beloved," she began, feeling nervous and foolish, the shy and gentle nature her station couldn't allow reasserting itself, "it is no secret that I have grown...well that I've grown of late. I...I am still pleasing to you, am I not? Please..."
 
Her lover was famously stoic and it took a moment for him to respond. A moment in which Alarielle had plenty of time to think of disaster. That he'd say she'd grown ugly, that she disgusted him, that her bulk was hideous.
 
"Pleasing to me? Alarielle, you are the very sun in the sky to me. Without you, what have I?" the famed knight expressed, walking towards her and taking her hand, kneeling to look up at the rather short woman.
 
"And you don't mind that I've gotten a little bit fat?" Alarielle asked gently, taking his hand and placing it on her softening thigh, "that I'm...plump."
 
"Alarielle, my brother often speaks foolishly but he was right I must admit, in saying that your recent changes merely compliment your beauty," Tyrion told her, clearly expressing himself was difficult but he pushed on, "your body...you are a kind soul and generous. A softness of features and a ...generousness of figure suits you much more than austere slenderness."
 
The Everqueen smiled, heart thumping hard in her chest, matching the thunder outside, "You speak so sweetly...but I want you to show me."
 
"Alarielle, I'm not sure how I can further show you," he began to say, before noticing that the Ever Queen was gently pulling her long skirt up her legs.
 
The white silk rasped gently over her smooth legs. Alarielle often swam in the forest's many springs, meaning the limbs were as sunkissed as her face. Her legs had grown plumper, a soft fullness to her calves, a layer of fat over her knees and a roundness to her thighs which Tyrion saw, were starting to touch at the top. And she wore no petticoat or underwear beneath the gown. Nothing protecting the soft folds of her sex but the soft curl of golden hair above it.
 
"As your Queen, I command you to show me," Alarielle hissed as the storm began to rage, pressing his face to her groin.
 
His lips were swift and his tongue probing, the Queen gasped in time with a peal of thunder. She wrapped her legs about his head, running her nails through his head as he licked, thrust and sucked. Her eyes rolled back and she pulled at her bodice, desperate to touch herself. Lust made her fingers clumsy, she had to snatch a dagger from Tyrion's belt and cut the laces, pulling her gown away.
 
"Keep showing me," she demanded, pulling her dress over her head and throwing it over her throne, feeling her breasts flop as they fell from the bodice.
 
The Queen propped herself up on her throne's armrests, spreading her legs wide while Tyrion disrobed. She cooed to see him erect and gasped as he entered her, thunder roaring outside and the downpour blocking out her cries. He began thrusting into her, firstly gently and with growing strength. Alarielle rode him, feeling her body...shake.
 
She looked down, seeing her pooch crease into rolls. Rolls that jiggled with each thrust, her belly big enough to bounce. The motion went up to her breasts, the sunkissed orbs almost falling from her hands. The Queen began coming not long after, the motion of her own figure bringing her to climax. Tyrion came a moment later, pulling out of her with a soft sound.
 
"Does that prove my devotion?" the knight asked her.
 
"...that...is a good start," Alarielle gasped, "carry me to bed and I will judge in a few hours..."
 
.....
 
Hours later, Alarielle lay curled next to Tyrion in the dark of her bed chamber, listening to the rain and running her hand over her lover's corded muscles. The Queen and her knight were as naked as the day they were born, covered only by Alarielle's loosened mane of hair. Tyrion slept deeply, leaving the woman alone with her thoughts.
 
Her lover had indeed shown her the depths of his devotion. The Queen's nipples hurt and her sex was sore, a happy soreness that all the muscles of her belly joined in on. Her orgasm had been one of the best she'd ever had, her screams high and continuous, blocked only by the thunder. She'd gone thrice, so strongly every muscle still threatened to cramp, and Tyrion had come twice, unloading into her. The Queen could still feel his seed running down her thighs.
 
"How could I have not noticed," she whispered to herself, looking at how her soft belly pressed into his hard obliques, "I'm so...soft."
 
The very word brought a warmth to her loins. Alarielle was soft, she was soft and that was good. High Elves who would have never been born were being conceived just because she was soft. And the softer she grew, the stronger would the realm be.
 
It was a license to do what Alarielle had always wanted. And her lover, clearly agreed that her existing growth was appealing. All she had to do was weather the tongues of Courtiers and she could grow, at least for a year perhaps to let Teclis test if the birth rate was really rising.
 
At the thought, she felt her belly rumble. The meeting with the mage and her subsequent carnality had robbed the Queen of dinner. Yes she had had a heavy lunch, but between the dancing and the sex, Alarielle felt ravenous. Her camp's cook fires were going to be damped by the storm her lust had summoned, but there was surely food somewhere in her pavilion.
 
Quiet as a mouse, Alarielle slid from the rope bed. Her bed chamber had no rugs, the Queen preferring the feel of soft grass on her feet, and when she quietly stepped away she heard a faint rustle behind her and felt a soft touch against her backside. Stifling a gasp, assuming Tyrion had goosed her, she turned to see a four foot high bush growing out of the ground.
 
"What in heaven...," she whispered, her excellent Asur night vision seeing that the bush was heavy with fat strawberries.
 
In shock she took a step backwards, another bush erupting from her foot print and brushing past her belly. This one was almost bowing under ripe blue berries. Blinking, the Queen dimly recalled her education, which had included stories that some past Everqueens, from a time when the station's hereditary power had been stronger, had once left flowers with every foot step.
 
"Now I leave berries. Perhaps this is a sign that I am on the right path," the hungry woman sighed, plucking a berry and popping it into her mouth.
 
The blueberry was so perfectly ripe its taste made Alarielle coo. So did the next berry and the next and the next several handfuls. In seemingly no time at all, the naked monarch was on her knees, dancing the last berries like she was a primeval hunter gatherer and not a powerful Queen. Mercifully, the power did not go to her knees and she was spared another bush shooting up between her legs. A small cherry tree, its branches sagging with fruit did sprout up as soon as she stepped back towards the bed.
 
"...This could be quite frustrating before very long," the blonde thought, licking blue juice from her fingers and from the corners of her mouth, "especially as I like strawberries and cherries..."
 
Unafraid of being judged, Alarielle eaten nearly a pound of blue berries. No longer did she feel ravenous, but the blonde still felt like she could eat. She traded between the nearest branch of cherries and the nearest half of the strawberry bush until both were bare. The sour strawberries and the sickly sweet cherries made her eyes roll back into her head they were so delicious, but the Queen couldn't deny she was getting full. Her hands were so red they looked like she'd committed murder and her little tummy was swelling up from the sugary fruit. She doubted a single gown would fit her belly as it was.
 
"I need to ignore this little miracle and get to bed," the Queen said, her stomach grumbling now due to being full, "lest I be found burst in the morning."
 
Rubbing a her stomach, leaving a red hand print on the increasing dome, she stepped lightly towards bed...only for a the unmistakable scent of bananas to meet her nose. She turned, so close to curling up to the strong arms of her beloved but also faced with her favor fruit, a tropical import that didn't grow in Ulthuan. When Tyrion had raided the Vampire Coast to the south he'd brought back two bunches for her and she'd eaten herself sick.
 
"I suppose...a few can't hurt," Alarielle reasoned, salivating and ignoring the painful fullness of her stomach.
 
.....
 
Over the next months, the rhythm of life in the court of Avelorn did not immediately change.
 
Although Teclis and Tyrion soon departed south to plan an expedition against the pirates of Sartossa in retaliation for raids, Alarielle's nomadic court merely moved south towards the coast of the inner sea at the rate of ten or twelve miles a day. Each morn, the tents were struck, a breakfast was eaten and the mobile party rode south to a new clearing.
 
The first change was that everyone had fresh berries and fruit at their meals, as the Queen's very step now left new life in her wake whenever she went barefoot. It was counted a wonder, a sign of the Goddess Isha's favor that greatly raised the young beauty's esteem in the eyes of her court. Of course, fruit trees every time she touched bare earth were also slightly annoying so Alarielle had to begin wearing soft boots instead of going barefoot save for when she was hungry.
 
After nine weeks, the nomadic court reached the very border of the great Avelorn forest, where the small coastal cities under her control began and the queen's power to command the seasons ended. A bad snow storm was but a few feet away from the treeline, while the court's tents were sent up around the deep pool of a rocky spring and a long ruined temple built over it. Most of the Queen's courtiers began their typical frollicking, taking advantage of the spring to swim and play while others fetched snow balls and hurled them to and fro.
 
Alarielle had a deep desire to go swim, paradoxically the thought that she could one day grow fat enough to be unable to move was making her cherish every chance to play, but was also hungry. Caught in the throws of such indecision, she lay on her bed and let her three handmaidens brush her brilliant hair until it gleamed and idly rubbed her own stomach through the thin fabric of a shift. The longer she rubbed, the more deeply she wished Tyrion had not had to depart. She didn't think of herself as fat yet, but weeks of big meals and long naps had made her belly grow softer than she thought possible and the Queen's ability to grip a few inches of fat, almost a full handful fascinated her.
 
Not so much that she wasn't letting the black haired maid Jalissa, who's strong thighs were serving the Queen as a pillow, hand feed her cherries.
 
"Your majesty," Cisena said, entering the tent without knocking and with snow still on her shoulders, "I have ridden ahead to the coast and brought back reports. Unfortunately Lord Teclis has followed me and...your highness, please wear something to show your decency!"
 
Alarielle sat up, feeling her stomach roll slightly, on standing she had to tug the skin tight shift down to cover her sex, "Cisena, I am covered breast to hip while most of my court is fully in the buff. I hardly think I need to cover myself up while taking my ease."
 
Cisena glared, trying to to glance at the glowing elephant in the room. The sheer silk was stretched drum tight over the Queen's body, it was made to be snug but it had been made to be snug on a Queen Alarielle with a flat stomach, not one who's belly proudly jutted ahead. When the blonde's dainty fingers released the garment, it shot right back up to reveal her glory and the slight chill breeze coming off the snow was surely felt by the woman's erect nipples.
 
"Your majesty I am embarrassed for you, if people see you they will talk!' Cisena hissed, feeling a headache growing, "Milady, when clothed the effect is minimized but like this...I can't see your ribs or the bones of your pelvis anymore. And your thighs, they are touching."
 
"They Court already talk, in the week you've been scouting ahead my arms have grown too plump for any of my sleeves. I knighted a squire yesterday and my arms wiggled when I dubbed him," the Queen pointed out, jiggling the soft fat of her under arm, "everyone knows I grow heavy. And even an idiot can see that fruited trees grow in my wake and my powers grow ever stronger. It is as Lord Teclis predicted."
 
"I will admit the fruit trees are...persuasive," Cisena told the shorter, chubbier Asur, "but there is no reason to believe that shriveled madman's predictions."
 
A confident smile struck the corner's of the Queen's mouth, "Is there not? Raella, tell him what you've told me this morning."
 
Raella, a tall, lithe, pale haired maiden from northern Chrace blushed, ringing the Queen's hairbrush in her hands.
 
"Handmaiden Captain, my apologies, but I believe that I have...quickened," the elf woman said, eyes down cast but mouth smiling.
 
Cisena blinked in disbelief, "You have...you were fucking while on the Queen's guard?"
 
"Spare her a diatribe, I have thirty Handmaidens tending me and guarding me. On their off hours I would encourage them to find love," the Queen smiled, "and she's not the only one! Sixteen women in this camp got themselves with child the past month! Think of it! We've had nothing but weddings and wedding feasts."
 
"I can believe that," the guard captain said, glancing at the Queen's stomach which was visibly distended, "but how is she to be on guard? She swore an oath to guard and attend you for fifty years! She can't do that with a baby!"
 
"We will find someway around it, I've been told that humans have these things called nurseries. We will have to come up with something, for so long chances of pregnancy have been so low that we have sex without thought. Now though," the Queen said, patting her soft stomach, "if things are as I believe, a lot of Asur are going to find themselves mothers very soon. My powers are growing with my waist, I can feel it when ever some a woman within a dozen miles of me conceives. Like a little bell in my ears, I heard one just before you arrived."
 
The chief body guard paled at the claim, "As you command my Queen, but we must discuss how long until you...why are you disrobing?"
 
'Because I wish to go swimming," the Queen said, with a bit of difficulty tugging the shift off of herself, breasts and belly jiggling as she fought with it, "you encourage me to exercise do you not? Girls, fetch my robe."
 
.....
 
Teclis wheezed, dry heaving onto the summer grass.
 
His back screamed at him. His ribs grated when he breathed. His jaw was probably broken. He might have frost bite on his scrotum.
 
And then there was the shock of riding in from the cold snow into summer again, which might just finish the wizard off. The frail Asur fumbled for one of his healing potions, numb fingers unable to finagle it and sure he'd die here in the middle of all these tents. Until an angel appeared.
 
She looked like the Queen, if Alarielle had gained twenty pounds since he'd last seen her. A pink silk robe hung off her figure, untied because it probably couldn't be pulled closed around her generous hips, pampered stomach and heavy breasts. She was plumper than any Asur woman he'd ever seen, even a human woman would have said she'd need to watch her portions with those curves. But she had Alarielle's river of shimmering golden hair and Alarielle's face but with a second chin and new freckles that led down to the plump valley of her chest and she spoke in Alarielle's voice.
 
"Oh dear Teclis, you look half dead! You must not tired yourself so, you're important to the kingdom. How could I console your brother if you died?" the glowing woman said, bending down, her soft tummy splitting into a roll and planting a kiss on his forehead.
 
He could feel the heat pouring off of her chest an inch from his face, but beyond how perfect her breasts were was the magical force coming off her lips. Healing power so vivid a master mage of the wind of life would weep at its potency, shot through his body, healing his bruises, contusions, frost bite, shock and even the Wizard's perpetual headache. He blinked, trying to find words.
 
"It is so good to see you again. Rest well and we can speak later, I'm going swimming," Alarielle smiled, sashaying off, her hips a metronome.
 
He watched her approach the spring, her court cheering as she neared. The plump monarch shrugged off her robe, earning whistles and began rubbing a sunblocking ointment onto her skin. Teclis thought he was going to die just from the way her ass jiggled and knew he was hallucinating because a full grown apple tree appeared after she shrugged her furred boots off, when a fist of iron grabbed him by the throat and hauled him into an empty tent.
 
"You bastard. You simple minded piece of dog shit, you overgrown goblin in a bad costume!" Cisena hissed, every muscled standing out on her body in rage, "you got me pregnant you shriveled peanut of a man!"
 
"I did what?" Teclis blinked, only for her to raise him into the air by his lapels, ** him with his own robe.
 
"You said you were too weak and useless to get me pregnant!" she growled.
 
"No, you, you said that after I said the pregnancy rate was rising," he managed to gasp out, "then you knocked me off a snow bank into the snow bank and nearly killed me with your giant thighs."
 
"Give me a reason I shouldn't kill you?" she demanded with anger, blue eyes seeming to burst into flame.
 
"Well, if you are pregnant it'd be pretty awkward to explain in a few years," Teclis offered.
 
The tent was mostly for storage, she tossed him onto a mountain of rolled up carpets. They were less soft than he'd hoped and the frail mage felt the wind get knocked out of him. By the time he banished the stars swirling around his head, Cisena had her breast plate unbuckled.
 
She'd kept the armor on earlier and Teclis got to see the flexing power of her massive abdominals and the heave of her small breasts. Despite the confusion and the pain, the wizard felt his pants begin tightening. The raw power of the woman in front of him was tantalizing, the thought that his desperate thrusting had penetrated that fortress of feminine muscle captivating...
 
"Gods you are pathetic," the guard captain growled, dropping her leather skirt, "at least if I am cursed to bear your inferior seed I will have to teach you how to properly satisfy me. Now use your worthless sorcerer powers and summon me some cake."
 
"C-cake?" Teclis managed, tearing his eyes away from the dried stain of his own seed left half an hour before on her massive quad.
 
"Yes, Cake, moron. I've been on a diet for two hundred years but if your idiotic seed is to grow into anything worthwhile it will need proper nutrients," she snapped, cracking knuckles like the sound of a castle door being caved in, "and I'm planning on working up a sweat."

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21 hours ago, harrylime said:

You have a great talent for writing about self-indulgent queens. This story is beautiful and already quite sexy. Can't wait for the next chapter! 

The thought of "what if she had absolute power and used it to grow absolutely" doesn't leave the mind.

 

17 hours ago, what_have_i_done said:

So well written, damn!
The tub segment is pure sex.
Would sell soul for a film adaptation of that one scene alone. 

Thanks! if it helps, I pictured her as being played by a plumper Ellie Fanning after watching The Great.

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5 minutes ago, ulvrik said:

You are a genius Batman76! you really made my day with the latest part of the story :D i will now play total war warhammer with much more inspiration as ever!!

I did a bit of an Alarielle campaign to get in the mood last night.

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The fact that high elves consider statistics to be an obscure magical art is hilarious to me — but more importantly, this premis is awesome! I wish pregnancy worked like this. I’m curious what other powers Alarielle is going to awaken as she powers-up. I want to know! 

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Chapter 3: The Journey and Triumph
 
Alarielle's court spent two days at the spring.
 
The frivolous courtiers would assume it was because their Queen was enjoying her swims and wading so much. And while the softening monarch deeply loved floating in the spring's slow currents, her rounded tummy poking up slightly out of the water beneath the jiggle of her heavy breasts, or sunning herself upon the warm rocks after rubbing her inches of soft, peachy flesh with soothing lotion, there was in truth another reason. The time for Alarielle's return to the Phoenix King's Court was at hand, which meant a return to an Ulthuan where it was still winter.
 
Alarielle hated cold almost as much as she hated evil itself. Her entire body being grasped in biting, painful cold instead of being blissfully warm and having to wear fur and wool from head to toe rather than light, gossamer silk. The later was the real reason for staying so long at the spring, for the expensive coats and winter gowns of the Queen had been measured and cut for the lithest of Elf Maids. If the Queen had donned them the day Teclis had delivered his news, its buttons would have pained her to close and its seams would stretched wide enough to show her peachy flesh through the wool.
 
And that had been before months of deliberate overeating. Alarielle's belly was now big enough that just letting out the seams would do no good, there wasn't enough material to release to adequately fit the plump Queen. The camp's four full time seamstresses, used to making costumes for balls and fetes, spent those two days working over time preparing the Queen's new garments, the first robes with unintentional give in their figure woven in Ulthuan for long, long centuries.
 
The last afternoon at the spring, with her long mane of golden hair hanging heavy and wet behind her, the Ever Queen padded slowly towards into her tent. Two days of sunning had turned her peachy, sun kissed skin the color of gold, matching her shimmering hair on occasion and making her softness appear as if made from honey. So much swimming and a few snowball fights had made the monarch tired, something she'd have to grow used to, she'd begun this out of shape and this was probably the last exercise she'd received for months.
 
"Everqueen, the mage Teclis reports that he is ready to brief you," Cisena said, the towering handmaiden falling in behind her monarch, one eye casting down at the taut bulge of the Everqueen's belly.
 
"Oh, he's recovered then? Such a poor man, this recurring illness of his is most concerning to me. I've healed him thrice these last days but he seems to be clinging to life," the soft monarch said, rubbing a hand under a stomach filled to the absolute brim with that evening's dinner.
 
"Err, yes. His weakness leads him to suffer, quite pathetic when you think of it," Cisena told her, trying to stare straight ahead.
 
Alarielle entered her tent after her guard and after her belly. As those few clothes that still fit the monarch had begun to fray and split, her appetite had risen. Partly from fear over how her changing appearance might elicit scorn at the Phoenix king's Court in Lothern and partly from glee at realizing her weight was truly rising.
 
Her soft boots were getting snug against thickening ankles, while her thighs had begun to rasp when she stepped. Each of her breasts were as big as when she'd been pregnant, their skin appearing shiny as the fat beneath stretched out the golden covering. For the moment they were very round, over filling her hands, but she had to wander if they would begin to...sag. The belly beneath them was, when stuffed to capacity, as big as when she was with child, when empty it was a soft bugle of flab, like a thick belt that over hung her hips. Whether full or empty, the Queen was fond of rubbing it.
 
"I'm sure, but he seems quite sweet beneath his sharp tongue," the Queen observed, seeing that the frail wizard was bent over books in her audience chamber, his back to her.
 
"Ah, your Majesty. It is good you've come, I have numerous statistics of rising pregnancy rates observed on my way here. As much as a ten percent increase compared to this time last year," Teclis said, turning around with a book in his hand, "but I must also discuss the coming campaign...."
 
His voice trailed off at seeing Alarielle.
 
With her clothes increasingly uncomfortable and her court devoted to swimming, Alarielle had been forgoing clothes, even her robes getting to uncomfortable around her chubby arms. Teclis hadn't seen that of course, laid up in his tent as more bruise than Asur, so this sight of the Queen, round bellied, bearing perhaps the largest bust seen in Ulthuan in four thousand years and with her cuddly thighs rubbing together with each swaying step, hit him with the force of an Orc choppa between the eyes. Blood dripping down his nose, the wizard fell face first to the ground.
 
"Oh no!" the Queen gasped, rushing forwards as a mass of jiggles, "he's collapsed!"
 
"Pathetic," Cisena muttered, one hand unconsciously rubbing the hard flatness of her breast plate before turning over the unconscious Teclis, "I believe he's just fainted due to his weak nature."
 
"Oh he's pushed himself far too far," Alarielle fretted, youthful features frowning before kissing her finger tips and pressing them to the wizard's forehead, magic power brimming in them, "Cisena, drag him to my bed. I'll have to keep the poor mage warm with my own body."
 
"I...no your highness, you're time is far too valuable. I can, er, handle that," the muscular guard said.
 
....
Traditionally, the sea journey from Avelorn to Lothern was the preferred route. The inner sea was safe from pirates and monsters and the massive galleons were safe as houses, additionally it only took a week. But Alarielle decided to take the slower overland route.
 
The Queen was a gentle soul, a kind girl who'd rather be dancing in a meadow than leading a nation but responsibility for all elves had given Alarielle a strategist's mind. Entering the Phoenix King's court with her new, fattened physique could make her a laughing stock if done poorly. Alarielle needed to maintain her aura of beauty, mystique and feminine grace...which was increasingly difficult to do as fat rapidly accumulated to her body.
 
In Avelorn's eternal summer, the Queen hadn't been doing dedicated exercise but she'd still been dancing, riding her horse bareback and swimming most days. It wasn't enough to dent the four heavy meals and constant snacking she did every day, but the activity kept her at the "just out of shape" level she'd been when Teclis had first arrived. Cooped up in a carriage from morning to night and stuck in Inns every evening, with her ravenous appetite a constant companion, the Queen's weight soared...
 
"Your majesty, please, erm, suck in," Raella asked, the pregnant, brown haired maid biting her lip cutely in mild anxiety as she tugged at two folds of her Queen's clothes separated by a sunkissed bulge of belly fat.
 
"Raella, I am sucking in. If I suck in any further I will be a hunchback," Alarielle gasped at the handmaiden kneeling next to her, "this gown was made for me just as we left Avelorn, it was loose when I first wore it..."
 
They were in an Inn, only a few days from Lothern's suburbs and the ladies were attempting to get the Queen dressed before they departed that day. And not into anything complicated either, just a wool dress with buttons up the side of the waist. Buttons that weren't going to meet.
 
"Well my lady, it was very very snug yesterday," Jalissa pointed out, the black haired handmaiden walking up to her Queen and rubbing the distended bulge of her stomach, "and as you told the cook, the stew was so very, very good...and you said the same thing at breakfast..."
 
The Queen didn't swear or glare, but did smile at the memory of the savory stew and the sugary sweet breakfast pancakes.
 
"Perhaps, Radiant one, if you inhale and suck in at the same time as we all pull. If my clothes were getting tight I would do that," Sailrilla, her quietest and cleverest handmaiden offered.
 
"Perhaps," the Queen mused, looking at the three handmaidens, "although what an odd thing to say? Why would a Handmaiden of the Everqueen, a powerful and disciplined warrior, be needing to already suck in your stomach and inhale?"
 
The Everqueen's Handmaidens were supposed to be some of the most elite warriors on the planet, able to put an arrow through a fly's wing at a hundred yards and fight a dozen Norscans with a spear. Especially her personal attendants, but that was changing due to the sudden burst of fertility.
 
Raella was the first to take seed and was already starting to show, the brunette's belly bulging tight against her dress and her delicate ankles starting to swell. In the company of the Queen, who was always surrounded by food, and excused from any hard duty the Handmaiden was herself looking plumper. Her belly was much more fat than baby, squishing out under her belt.
 
Sailrilla and Jalissa were themselves lovers and had decided to compete to see which could get pregnant first, be it among the Queen's since dismissed court or in the Inns they stayed at. Jalissa was seen as the beauty of the three, with long black curls, green eyes and for a slender Asur warrior, wide hips and large breasts, while ashen haired Sailrilla was short, delicate of feature and very lean. Surprisingly the smaller Handmaiden had won the race and her appetite was already running, her features softening with new fat and her uniform snug as a glove, especially around her rear.
 
"Because she is a greedy, greedy girl," curvaceous Jalissa smiled, smacking her lover on her soft lump to a burst of girlish giggles.
 
"I merely follow the Queen's example," her lover giggled.
 
But of course, Alarielle observed, even Jalissa's arms and legs are looking softer, her muscle fading. The Queen had made enchanted amulets for her Handmaidens to wear to keep any more of them from falling with child, she needed guards after all, but she had to wonder how much longer the days of Asur warrior women would last...
 
"I'm not certain that plan will work, I believe I've grown much plumper than we'd expected," the Queen said, raising her arms up, "unbutton me, I"ll go without a coat. Its been getting warmer as spring nears and I'm quite insulated."
 
With a little effort, the Queen's handmaiden's unbuttoned the fur edged wool. Alarielle kept her mind focused on the coming court session, formulating her plans again and again...
 
.....
 
Lothern was the largest city in Ulthuan.
 
Immensely rich, a hub of world trade and home of the Phoenix King's court and the great High Elven Navy, it was also half empty. Many of its great towers and spires were abandoned for want of a populace to fill them up. It was a heart breaking sight, but one the Queen was sure she could fix.
 
Indeed, knew she could fix. Even as her carriage approached that fated morn, the Queen could hear little bells as Asur maidens quickened, the High Elves culture of quick, casual sex meaning a mass conception occurred as fertility suddenly returned. It made Alarielle's heart thump with pride, which was better than anxiety because the lean Everqueen who'd left at Autumn for Avelorn was going to be unrecognizable.
 
"My Queen, are you certain about this? We can still plead...illness," her chief bodyguard told her.
 
Cisena looked miserable, for the handmaiden began each morning with a stomach churning vomit session. The powerfully muscular handmaiden showed no other physical change, although the Wizard Teclis had been traveling on a stretcher most days.
 
"Why would I plead illness? I have never felt better," Alarielle smiled as the carriage pulled up to the long paved drive to the Phoenix court, "and I know I have never looked better."
 
The door opened, letting the Queen emerge. She had a long walk ahead of her, the Phoenix King held court out doors in a large amphitheater at the end of a long, grassy walk. Courtiers in order of rank lined it, held back by the King's armored Phoenix Guard. Slender ladies in outrageously tight gowns dyed every color of the rainbow to show their gorgeous figures, accompanied by effete and gallant men dressed no less outrageously all went breathless upon seeing the Queen.
 
Alarielle let herself smile, just at the corners of her mouth.
 
She had been, by Asur standards, quite plump when Teclis had brought her his world changing news. That was followed by months of growing fatter, of her body becoming accustomed to naps and snacks, of losing her wind and growing, growing and growing. Hiding that she now outweighed every woman in the crowd by nearly seventy pounds would have been impossible. No clever device or careful illusion would have made the bulging roundness of her belly look flat and narrow, nor stopped the chaffing of her corpulent thighs.
 
So Alarielle had opted to show everything.
 
The Everqueen wore nothing but a diaphanous, gossamer thin and totally see-through layer of silk. It covered her from collarbone to ankle, shimmering with diamonds sewn into the threads and holding nothing from view (although a thicker concentration of gems at the meeting of her legs made her sex somewhat difficult to see). A soft breeze made the loose garment billow, pressing it tight against the folds of her body.
 
Alarielle's stomach was far bigger than it had been when she was pregnant. It had at last burst past her breasts, becoming a heavy gut even when empty. So large was the squishy dome that a fold was forming on its heavy love handles, the fat buckling and slowly sagging downwards. The Queen had to guess that by the time she hit two hundred pounds the deepening flank fissures would meet, giving her a double belly.
 
Widening hips had merged with Alarielle's squishy love handles, annihilating her old waspish waist for good. The new fat bulged over the belt up top while the hefty roundness that had been girlish hips swung back and forth with each step. Their metronome regularity was hypnotizing, robbing wits and stopping tongues from wagging about how the Queen's girthy bottom had for just a second gotten stuck in the carriage door.
 
Once that butt had been quite flat, taut enough for a golden Dwarf coin to bounce off. Laziness had packed fat onto it, her body adapting to its laziness to make sitting increasingly comfortable. Enough fat of Alarielle's seventy pound gain had gone to it to make the Queen's pampered buttocks begin to sag, the fatty slopes starting to merge with her thighs. It was harder to see than her front, due to the immense sweep of her unbraided hair, its shimmering golden locks almost touching the ground.
 
The fertility Goddess Isha's High Priestess had to walk quite carefully. Lean thighs had grown meaty, soft enough they were starting to overhang her knees just a little and increasingly girthy. Her stride was sliding towards a waddle, that most un-Asur of steps, and she had to walk very carefully to not let that natural tendency take effect. Later, perhaps, but to waddle now would be humiliating. And all of the oil her handmaidens had rubbed into her inner thighs kept them from both chafing and slapping, even though their rasping motion sent a violent jiggle through her plumpness with each step of her bare feet.
 
Alarielle had always had a large bust for an Asur, a bust that had grown with the rest of her. Although they'd begun to rest against the Queen's chest, each breast was still full and round, a gleaming and freshly oiled orb the size of the blonde's head. The nipples were starting to stretch and grow, but they still pointed resolutely upwards and were erect from the breeze. Soft as butter in the sun, their sun kissed skin a honey gold dotted with cinnamon freckles orbs wobbled with each step and rose impossibly high with each careful breath.
 
Alarielle's goal had been to look eternal and serene, to make this drastic transformation appear totally natural and effortless. She'd even forgone makeup, letting the youthful freckles that began under her lovely eyes and spread down past her breasts show. And while her aristocratic cheekbones had faded into chipmonk cheeks and her clean jawline had second chin big enough to jiggle, her slight smile and heavy gut made motherhood leap immediately to mind.
 
For the first few steps of the Queen's feet on the grass, no one could say anything. Both the rapid change and her complete and apparent ease with it took the breath away. Just as someone, a Tiranoc chariotess with no idea she'd have triplets on the new year began to inhale to exclaim at the embarrassing girth of Alarielle's waist, the next part of the Queen's plan sprang from the ground.
 
Despite the winter cold on her trip, Alarielle had been practicing with her new powers, walking barefoot on chilly earth after dark to make trees burst from the ground. She'd found that she could first choose what type of fruit tree would grow, then with enough focus pick its size and its maturity and then pick where it could grow. Just as the Chariotess began to say "She's so f-" a massive rumbling sounded.
 
The crowd had to pull backwards as two gigantic trees burst from the ground when the queen stepped away from the carriage. Wide enough twenty knights holding hands couldn't grip their diameter, they soared taller than the tallest tower. The crowd gasped as they saw the five pointed golden leaves of the trees, realizing that they were all but extinct Starwoods.
 
Attention to the jiggle of Alarielle's butt cheeks became rapid impressment with the massive display of power, far beyond rumors that had spread from the Queen's own court. She walked on, focusing on building up and releasing the power she gained from coming in contact with Ulthuan's soil. Every thirty feet she released the magical power with a long breath, mammoth trees immediately bursting from the soil.
 
Leaving a shaded walk behind her, the Queen entered the stunned court and took her place on the Everqueen's throne. Her ageless, elegant effect was almost ruined when she saw Tyrion in the front ranks of the crowd, the Asur's preeminent swordsman and general wearing a feral grin. Seeing him in his hawkish armor sent a blush shooting up from Alarielle's plump sex but making herself focus on not breathing heavily from her long walk let her stop it from going past her breasts.
 
The only one not looking at her was the Phoenix King. Finubar the Sea Farer was both a lover of men and Alarielle's biological father, the former trait not sparing him the awkward embarrassment that came from seeing his daughter near totally naked in front of thousands. Giving him an understanding smile, the Ever Queen sat on her appointed throne and let another Starwood tree, twice the size of the others, burst from the grassy circle in the middle of the courtiers.
 
Alarielle used the time from its growth to get her breathing under control and remind herself to put a walk and some swimming into her daily routine. She was only going to get fatter after all and she wanted at least a few centuries until that anticipated day she grew too big for herself. Putting aside said thoughts less they make her blush, the Queen took a deep, deep breath and spoke,
 
"Please, do not let the court stop all discussion for my sake," the Everqueen said, "but if I may add an item to the agenda, Ulthuan will need to prepare for a large increase in population..."
 
.....
 
A great celebration had been had well into the night.
 
The High Elves, so long facing extinction, rejoiced at Alarielle's news. Buttressed by Teclis' careful equations involving the Queen's growth and the number of matrons to be in her own court, the wizard had demonstrated that average fertility had risen almost fifty percent. Although a few of the noble women in the crowd grew slightly pale as they calculated days and number of partners since their last cycle, Alarielle had been cheered to the heavens as the savior of the species.
 
Praise had given way to partying, dancing, popping corks and of course, sex.
 
As the moon rose, Alarielle stood in her bed chamber atop Lothern's tallest spire. Her soft fingers gripped the rim of a window, cries of pleasure coming from her mouth as she watched the moon rise. She was bare, her full rump pressed out behind her and Tyrion's muscular pelvis pressed tight to her. His cock slid in and out of her dripping vulva like a sword into its sheath, each careful thrust making Alarielle moan, while the knight's skilled hands played one of her nipples and her clitoris like a musical instrument.
 
The EverQueen could barely keep herself up, the long walk up the stairs had left her winded and she was so full of wine she sloshed with each thrust. Tyrion was quite powerful and each strong motion caused the Queen's cuddly body to ripple and shake. Especially odd was her breasts, which swung heavily, making a slapping sound against her oiled skin and her belly which was now big enough to join in the swinging.
 
"Fuck me, fuck me," Alarielle panted to her stoic partner, "make me bounce and jiggle, make my tits hit me in the face!"
 
The head to toe jiggling didn't disgust the Queen, rather it was driving her wild. Tyrion came just before she did, a massive surge of wet heat. As her own orgasm rose, muscles clenching beneath her doughy belly and her screams echoing over the city, Alarielle heard a small bell ring in her ear.

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On 7/21/2020 at 1:43 AM, >_< 0_0 said:

The fact that high elves consider statistics to be an obscure magical art is hilarious to me — but more importantly, this premis is awesome! I wish pregnancy worked like this. I’m curious what other powers Alarielle is going to awaken as she powers-up. I want to know! 

I was initially going to have her grow treemen and dryads out of the ground to fight an army of Skaven but I felt that would make the story too complicated.

So this is the end of Alarielle's half of the story. Initially I'd planned on making her a lot, lot fatter but didn't as I wanted it to to focus on the initial part of her gain and the reaction to it without letting unnecessary bloat (lol) occur. I think I succeeded in that and my plan to have this half be rather sweet and light.

 

The next half is on the Hag Queen of the Dark Elves, it'll involve much more extreme weight gain and not be sweet or light.

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1 hour ago, bigboy1992 said:

Batman76, I know you are still writing this but will you eventually write another Warhammer story in the future. This story has been awesome so far.

I have an idea with the brettonian fae enchantress, she'd have a non cannon, very vain daughter who winds up stripped of her power and status and fattened up to learn humility

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10 hours ago, what_have_i_done said:

Batman76, once again, you are just something else (a high elven sorcerer among mere mortals?)
Amazing and very cozy story!

I imagine Batman76 as secretly famous and fabulously wealthy, but also a loner, which would explain the late night posts 🤔 

He might have a butler — I mean, roommate

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6 minutes ago, >_< 0_0 said:

I imagine Batman76 as secretly famous and fabulously wealthy, but also a loner, which would explain the late night posts 🤔 

He might have a butler — I mean, roommate

Wife in my case, and insomnia.

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1 hour ago, >_< 0_0 said:

Ooh, I need one of those 🥰

Mine's pretty damn great.

 

And the cankle pinch in chapter one was inspired by an old painting @Yapo had posted in his excellent thread.

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Just now, Batman76 said:

Mine's pretty damn great.

 

And the cankle pinch in chapter one was inspired by an old painting @Yapo had posted in his excellent thread.

Art thread is good,  but it is not mine,  I am just a contributor. 

More over,  i am a great fan of Total war warhammer series,  and Batman76's fan since 'Emperor Basil the fattener'  story.  Your writing style is great. 

I though about wg story in WH setting,  but in this setting fat is generally associated with Grandpa Nurgle (and that sucks) . This fact is making looking for a weight gain story line very hard.  However, Batman76 did a great job! 

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