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The Weasel of Malgoren


SilverPathfinder

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This is a story I have been working on for a few weeks. It was intended to be a human-fantasy retelling of the Lafontaine's fable of the Weasel in the Mill, but I got caught with the world building and it's taking a new shape as it is written. I don't know how long I will build this up before the conclusion, but it's a fun little project. It's my first ''long term'' story, so feel free to comment and give me your input.

 

Chapter 1 : a way in

During the War of the Ashen Fields, countless refugees and victims of the conflict flooded the well-defended walled city, hoping to gain the protection of the king and his retinue. As they reached the famed capital of Malgoren, instead of help and protection, what they found was closed gates and repression. The newcomers quickly established themselves at the bottom of the massive city walls, villages and slums appearing overnight, growing like weeds around the roots of the ancient city. Yet, they were mercilessly refused entrance, only a handful of traders and officials were allowed to pass through the gates. The rest had nowhere to go, and survived from the trade that wouldn’t be allowed inside the pristine streets of the capital. The shanty towns were plagued by illicit trades, crime, prostitution, and hard, unsanitary industries that would repulse the sensitivities of the urban denizens of Malgoren. It was a scar on the kingdom, and a testimony of its ruler’s tyranny.

Like many others born during the war, Sarya grew up as an orphan, scavenging the streets of the shanty towns surrounding the kingdom’s capital. She spent years surviving in the fringe of society, going through trash at first, then begging, stealing from merchants’ stalls, until she found her true calling as a pickpocket. She had a true gift for it, and after years of owning her skills, she stumbled into adulthood as a very successful thief, one of the few that retained her innocence in the eyes of the traders and the private guards they hired. No one suspected her, as she knew how to leverage her looks to her advantage to dismiss suspicion and go unnoticed.

Rather short, Sarya had brown curly hairs waving down to her clavicles. Fair skinned apart from a few freckles, she had a cherubic face, with large blue expressive eyes and gorgeously plump lips. She enjoyed a slender and lean body, her shapely figure supporting a pert bosom, a narrow wasp-like waist, seductive hips, and a round and toned bottom. She was short and lithe, her nimble and spritely build allowing her to sneak with ease, to deflect any suspicion with her youth and airs of innocence, and to perform quick escapes when needed. When lesser thieves inevitably got caught, Sarya always managed to flee, running into an alleyway, slipping through a damaged fence, or vanishing into a narrow hideout, an escape path planned in advance by the clever rogue. If the clever pickpocket wasn’t necessarily the quickest or the most athletic, she was thoughtful and well prepared, never going for a target without some kind of emergency plan in case things went sour. In the worst case scenario, she even moved around Malgoren, jumping to a slum on the other side of the city if she aroused too much suspicion where she stayed.

This methodical and prudent approach to thievery eventually made Sarya the most experienced and well-connected pickpocket in all the shanty towns. When her reputation began to spread in Malgoren’s underworld, her life quickly began to transform.

Sarya was introduced by a contact to an illicit marketplace that was used as the liaison between the shanty towns’ shady trades, and the gated elites of the capital. Hidden in the abandoned dungeons of the old guard post, the Grey Market was only accessible by two specific entry points. One was a secret stairway that led to a fancy tavern inside Malgoren, the front of the whole operation. The city authorities thought that the former guard post was sealed and the dungeons collapsed, but criminal guilds had secured this ancient access and maintained the underground for their own use. The second access was much cruder, at the image of the community that used it. The passage leading to the slums was nothing but a wide crevice in the outer wall, large enough to allow single file passage to the malnourished young smugglers that used it daily. It was through this narrow slit, unknown to the guards, that contraband entered and left the city.

When she learned the existence of this secret passage, Sarya’s mind went into motion, slowly building up an angle through which she could leverage this new connection. With the street urchins and petty thieves always getting caught outside in the slums, she realized that she more than simply experienced. She was safe, she was worthy of trust. Stolen goods were always in demand, and she happened to be the single stable element of the pickpocket world of outer Malgoren. Using her unparalleled reputation amidst the orphans and other thieves of the slums, Sarya began to buy most of the valuables that were taken in the shanty towns, and began moving them inside the Grey Market, introducing herself to all the resellers and some wealthy costumers in the dimly light stands of the illicit trading zone. Before long, she turned herself into the fence through which most of the stolen goods of the street reached the best buyers. She went by the alias of the Weasel, and she quickly realized that she just slithered inside the farmer’s granary. There was wealth to make for herself, and for the first time of her life, Sarya’s began to see a future for herself away from the squalor of poverty.  

Chapter 2 : filling the role

It took only a few weeks for Sarya to begin to feel a drastic change in her lifestyle from her time as a street pickpocket. She was now turning a bigger profit than ever with much less work and risk, and with all this newfound wealth came new possibilities. The first thing the young fence did was to buy herself some fancy stolen clothes in the Grey Market, so she could begin to hide her modest origins and appeal to wealthier and more lucrative customers. Unfortunately, it appeared that the wealthy were of more well-fed proportions than the slender young woman.  When Sarya finally found what she thought were clothes of the appropriate sizing, clothes she knew came from the carriage of a wealthy noble maiden of her age, the young and ambitious fence found that she was floating in the blouses and the dresses, and that the belt would simply slip off her narrow hips. The shapely young woman could fill the bust of her clothes decently enough, but her flat stomach and wasp-like waist were clearly much thinner than the midsection of the healthy urbanite she got the clothes from. The well fed noble girl certainly had a feminine softness around her tummy, while Sarya’s belly was as lean as it could be, making it easy to see her feline muscles flex under the skin anytime she moved.

Unable to find anything of her size, the pretty criminal mastermind was forced to accept these awkwardly loose garments for a time, using the least grimy parts of her former pickpocket attire to keep everything from falling off her thin figure. She eventually came to the conclusion it was good enough for the current times, until she secured the fake papers needed to travel past the Grey Market and walk in Malgoren’ streets like a regular citizen. Sarya initially thought that once she could move inside the city, she would get herself something more fitting at a real tailor shop, even if she doubted she could afford such luxurious fabrics somewhere legit. Truth was, before she even left the Grey Market with her false papers in hand, she had completely forgotten these clothing issues, for she was filling her dresses quite elegantly.

Since her shift of occupation from thief to fence, a few things changed in Sarya’s life, and the effects of those changes took some time to show. It was very subtle at first, subtle enough to leave the busy young woman unaware, but there was no hiding it for anyone that took attention; the Weasel was gaining weight. It appeared that spending your days darting through crowded marketplaces and rushing into alleyways to escape your victims involved a decent amount of exertion. While she used to jump over carriage, to run around the busy shops, and to climb on roofs to get good vantage points for nice targets, the former pickpocket’s intense exercise regimen had devolved into nothingness. Sarya’s new career replaced all of this workout with hours sitting in the shanty towns’ inns, waiting for stolen good drops by countless orphans and petty thieves. Even if her schedule was pretty busy, all this time spent sitting in inns and taverns also meant that the perky brunette was snacking quite a lot, if only so to keep up appearances. As former street urchin, she had spent most of her time on the brink of starvation. Her metabolism wasn't used to that much fuel with so little need for it, and her body quickly began stockpiling the goods all over her figure.

The first things most people noticed were how her face looked healthier and her skin more radiant. Sarya always had been a pretty girl, but this newly well fed lifestyle transformed her into a real head turner for the modest folks of the shanty towns. Her warm smile was beginning to display a small dimple at the corner of her lush lips, which was most charming, everyone would agree. It was also pretty obvious to anyone that the already well developed bosom of this gorgeous girl was growing more luscious with each passing day. From the alluring and perky grapefruits the shapely thief used to leverage for her crimes, she was now beginning to support small melons, to the point her dresses were stuffed to the brim at the level of her chest. Her voluptuous charms were already testing the limits of the seams on her side, and forcing the charismatic fence to wear her blouses open at the top, at the great enjoyment of many tavern regulars, and a few very curious inn maids.

But Sarya sizeable bosom wasn’t the only thing to grow. Her formerly slender figure was thickening at a quick pace, even if she didn’t really noticed the changes. If she wasn’t so busy planning her stellar rise into society, the curly haired rogue would have felt her body soften and get plumper ounce by ounce. When she removed her clothes before bed, she would have noticed that the toned and lean stomach she once had was now softer and slightly curving out, even when it was empty. She would have noticed how she could no longer quite see the lines of her abdominal muscles under the skin, how it all seemed blurred by a layer of plump flesh that would give slightly under the touch. She would have most certainly noticed how her hips and rump were fleshing out, and how they now swayed sensually when she walked. Apart for this, her thighs no longer had a visible gap between them, and they started to look quite round, like overstuffed sausages at the butcher’s market. Still, she didn’t noticed the changes, only looking at herself through the more and more appealing lenses of others, the ones constantly complimenting the young buxom lady for her elegant attire and her feminine looks.

The dresses and clothes she used to struggle to keep on her bonny shoulders and narrow hips were now well-fitting, if not a bit snug around the chest and the bum. The former pickpocket was now supporting the figure of a pampered rich damsel, and was enjoying her well-endowed curves without second thoughts. Yet, there was a few among her thievery crew that were beginning to snicker behind her back, making fun of the well-fed looks and overindulgence of the one that used to be the best among them. They all knew very well what these ripe melons, soft hips, and thickened waist meant; the Weasel was off the thievery business, and they were pretty sure there was no coming back for her. More than a few toast were made at the departure of this mighty competitor, but not that Sarya knew.

Chapter 3 : slender no more

The day Sarya learned that her false papers were ready, she finished to put her business in order and prepared to move inside the city for good. She had been setting up a network of suppliers that would bring stolen goods in through the Grey Market, where she planned to keep buying and reselling the merchandise at a more permanent storefront. She was prepared to rent a room at the Three Calices, the wealthy tavern that was acting as front for the underground marketplace, but her goal was to find herself a real propriety inside the city walls, and escape permanently the squalor and poverty of her youth. She had everything well figured out, and Sarya was confident that her rags to riches story was all but written. The Weasel could disappear, lingering as a legend of the underworld, while Sarya would enjoy the respectability of wealth.

As she made her way through the slums toward the secret passage in the walls, Sarya had to be careful not to draw too much attention. If she once could slip through the crowd unnoticed, the young buxom ex-thief was now pretty difficult to ignore for any onlooker. Her fancy dress displayed a cavernous cleavage that bounced in a wave-like motion at each and every step, while her broad and shapely hips swayed like a pendulum, her round and abundant bum firmly pressed against the taunt green fabric. Many eyes were glued to her curves, and she made more than a few head turn. She even noticed a few dim-witted cutpurses and street urchins begin to trail her like she was some kind of plump prey, before they eventually realized this voluptuous damsel was in fact the Weasel, an ill-advised target if they wanted to stay in business.

Despite the additional difficulties of blending in with a figure of such well-endowed proportions, Sarya eventually managed to reach the narrow crevice in the wall through which the undesired such as herself had to enter the Grey Market. She hadn’t used it in two weeks, as she was waiting for her plan to unfold. If everything went as planned, it would also be the last time she had to use this illicit route, since her papers would allow her to go through the gates like the merchant class and the legal citizens of the capital. Sarya was eager to leave this lowly access behind her, especially as she noticed it wasn’t as practical to use as she remembered.

The first times she used this clandestine route, she could walk through the crevice without any problem, even while carrying large bags of stolen goods from her illegal activities. Her slender waist and narrow hips wouldn’t even brush the edges of the slim gap in the stone. At worst, she remembered needing to shift her shoulders slightly to slip through the tightest part of the passage, and it was more a precaution than a real necessity. Her body was thin and nimble, capable to slither in much more cramped spaces than that. With a flat and toned stomach and modest curves, she was no different than any of the scroungers that were used to walk this path. As Sarya stood right in front of the secret passage, it seemed it was no longer the case.

When she tried to step in the crack, Sarya felt her well-padded hips bump softy against the edges, causing her to bounce back with a confused look on her face. She noticed not without some surprise that her womanly hips were now slightly wider than the opening, and she was forced to slip sideways to manage to get inside the crevice. Even then, she noticed with increasing confusion that her body was too thick to move in the confined space without some issues. She could very clearly feel her large bum brush against the wall behind her, while her heavy bosom slid against the stone in front of her. It wasn’t like she had to squeeze her body or get constricted in any ways, but she was feeling very claustrophobic navigating this dark and cramped path. Even moving sideways, she was taking more space than she used to when she was her former much more slender self. She had to be very careful not to damage her dress, as she could sometime feel the fabric scrape against the rough stone. In a rare moment of self-consciousness, Sarya moved a hand to her stomach, noticing for the first time how it was curving outward significantly, and how its flesh was giving under her trembling touch. She really had gotten soft, she thought.

If the rate of her weight gain should have worried her, Sarya’s mind quickly forgot how vulnerable and helpless she had felt in the narrow tunnel. As soon as she got through and entered the Grey Market, her large bosom popping through with a hearty bounce, the plump damsel dusted herself with a sigh of relief and mentally wished farewell to this slim crevice. It mattered little how constricted and uncomfortable she felt moving her lush figure through this passage, for she obviously would never have to use it again. There was absolutely no reason for her to worry about her newly developed curves. A well-fed physique suited her better, anyways.

Her new papers now firmly in hand, the overfed ex-thief prepared herself to climb the flight of stairs that was separating her from the inside of the forbidden city. For the first time, Sarya was about to discover the world of the privileged, and she was eager to taste what this world had to offer. A ravenous smile stretched her plump lips, a dimple appearing at the corner of her lush mouth. She was ready.

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9 minutes ago, Batman76 said:

I am absolutely ecstatic to see where this goes.

Medieval fantasy weight gain is my fucking jam, especially skinny, competent rags to lazy, overfed riches.

And for once that we aren't dealing with badly written fanfics, nor with an one-dimensional erotica about gaining fairies and plumpening witches neither... 

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Chapter 4 : inside

The climb wasn’t long from the Grey Market to the surface. A wide yet steep staircase, carved into the stone, was going up the equivalent of three stories, a few candles lighting the illicit path in dim light for the safety of its urban users. Sarya could feel her heart thumping inside her chest as she eagerly climbed those steps, feeling almost feverish at the prospect of exploring the city in the shadows of which she spent her entire youth. As she was pulling her dress up her ankles to move more freely, Sarya also discovered that the handrail was providing a surprisingly useful help with the crude staircase. She mustn’t have been used to move in such a heavy dress, she thought, as she felt her balance more precarious than she was used to. Of course, Sarya simply needed to glance down at her bulging cleavage to find a more obvious explanation to her less secure footing, but she stubbornly refused to perceive the bountiful mounds of bouncing flesh as anything but a blessing since they started getting bigger. Thinking that her ripe and ever-growing breast could be heavy enough to shift her center mass was ludicrous in her mind.

At the end of the climb, Sarya sighed in relief, feeling a little red on the cheeks. She stood under a large stone arch, which led to a small room with walls made of crude and much more recent masonry, most likely a hidden room that wasn’t on the original prints of the building. A discreet oak door, guarded by two rugged men, seemed to be the way in and out of this place. Sarya showed her papers to the men, who seemed confused by her appearance. They had been expecting a scrawny thief straight from the slums, not a buxom noble with such a well-fed physique. Little did Sarya knew, but she was already a bit plump by Malgoren standards, the abundance and luxury of the upper classes being only matched by their vanity and worship of self-discipline. The dress she was wearing was in fact the former propriety of a foreign visitor. It was of local style, of course, but had been custom fitted for this decadent young noble. No self-respecting noble girl in the capital would ever allow herself to display such a plump physique. Having one’s tummy curving outward was only expected of middle-aged ladies with a few children behind them. Luckily for Sarya, she was blessed with a stunning hourglass figure, making her softer form more socially acceptable, but her curves were going to attract attention, even in this place.

After an awkward exchange with the doormen, Sarya finally went through the secret door, finding herself in what seemed like a large and dusty cellar. Crates and various bags of supplies where piled in a semi-chaotic way, clearly in an attempt to disguise the secret market’s access in the mess. The young ex-thief could hear distant raucous over her head, a clear sign she was right under the Three Calices, in the belly of the great inn. She also noticed a large wooden platform nearby, surrounded by a complex set of thick ropes and gearings. She guessed it was some sort of lift to carry barrels and other heavy charges. Although it rested on the cellar’s floor, Sarya remembered having seen it lowered down to the Grey Market at a few occasions. The stairway was pretty steep; it made sense that the bulk of the illicit trade wouldn’t be carried by hand. Slowly, the ex-pickpocket walked through the dim-light on the dusty cellar, until she found yet another staircase, this time made of wood and of much better construction. This one was far easier to climb, and far shorter, its wide and robust oaken doorway leading straight in a part of the inn’s kitchen, where Sarya crossed path with a couple of wealthy looking individuals that were clearly making their way down. The buxom brunette smiled with enthusiasm, the young street urchin feeling almost ecstatic as she crossed path with these Malgoren citizens, as if she was part of them. She even performed a clumsy curtsy that caused her large earthy bosom to sway ponderously inside her green dress, her deep cleavage dragging most of the attention of the confused couple as they moved past her, barely returning Sarya the politesse, more than confused. Obviously, that kind of etiquette was off the mark at the backdoor access of an illegal market, but how could the young fence know?

Sarya slipped out of the kitchen, lured toward the entrails of the Three Calices by a chorus of voices, laughter, and minstrels’ songs. Biting her plump lower lip, she felt her mouth water as she smelled the flagrance of deliciously well cooked meats, and countless unknown spices and flavours that were obviously too rare of expensive to be known in the shanty towns. Sarya even placed a still slender hand on her soft stomach to keep down the hunger that had just awakened inside her. Her well-fed lifestyle of the last few weeks and made her more ravenous than ever, even during her starving days. It was like her overfed belly could no longer endure being kept empty, not that Sarya intended to suffer any kind of hunger any longer.

However, something almost broke inside the orphan girl’s psyche when she stepped in the great hall of the Three Calices, and saw with her very own eyes the reality of what food was really like. Not tasteless gruel given by charity, not the old bread foraged in the garbage of the shanty town bakeries, not the dry meat stolen to travellers, not even the fatty and comforting food served in the inn she used to sit at. What Sarya saw and smelled, almost tasting it in the air, was real food, true food, made by and for the wealthy and cultured citizens of the capital. Grilled and spiced meats, thick and voluptuous soups and stews, seasoned vegetables glistering with refined oils, delicate and sweet pastries, small candies fruits, and even fish, as fresh as if the city was built by the sea. Most patrons of the inn were having a light meal while discussing around a cup of spiced wine or hard cider, but each plate that Sarya saw was like an otherworldly marvel. All she wanted was to take a bite of everything, to taste everything, to feel what she had been denied by years of misery lived one meal away from starvation. She knew as she entered the inn that she couldn’t step outside in the open city without having indulged in this visceral need. The paved streets, the monuments, the history of the capital, all of that could wait. Sarya was hungry, and this food was all she wanted.

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Chapter 5 : indulgence

Sarya quickly found herself sitting by the counter like most lonely patrons at the inn. She jumped eagerly on a bar stool, her wide and soft bottom landing on the seat with a thud, while her large bosom bounced so heavily it almost knocked down the free cider cup that was just slid by the young tavern maid in front of her. She wasn’t used to have her body wobble and sway so much, she would need some time to adjust to be so voluptuous, she thought. Her clumsy attempt at acrobatics didn’t went too badly considering her added curves, but she needed to forget about her older ways before she made a fool of herself. There was already two dozen eyes set on her buxom figure with the small commotion she made, and she could tell most of them couldn’t move away from her round ass cheeks, which were properly swallowing the stool with their abundant flesh. The tavern maid also couldn’t help but stare at Sarya overflowing neckline, the well fed ex-thief cleavage so deep and generous it was quite the unusual sight. The lithe blonde girl was almost intimidated by this unusually busty ‘’noble’’, her gaze so overwhelmed by the bouncing mounds she didn’t noticed the large friendly dimpled smile glued on Sarya’s face.

Blushing a little with embarrassment, the pretty young fence gently tapped on the counter’s wood to help the maid snap out of her trance, and with a soft and pleasing voice, she quietly began ordering the food she wanted to taste. At first, it seemed like Sayra was aiming for an hearty meal by combining smaller portions, but it slowly became obvious that the girl was treating herself with a literal feast, her ever growing list of items only ending when she more or less went through the menu of the Three Calices. Once all of this would be ready, it would be enough to feed a whole family of five, and feed them well. The fact that Sarya even considered engulfing all of these meats and pastries was almost obscene, but the Weasel was as curious as she was hungry, and she couldn’t even consider showing some moderation when all this was available. Maybe once she tasted it, she would manage to regain some level of self-control?

As the plates began to appear in front of the busty and plump ex-urchin, Sarya let out a pleased giggle and began indulging, her hungry pampered tummy unable to wait any longer. She picked a small piece of what seemed like spiced sausage, glimmering under the candle lights with a glaze of fat and honey sauce. As soon as the meat touched her tongue, the voluptuous girl was left stunned by the flavour, even letting out an involuntary moan of pure bliss as she chewed on the tender, sweet, spiced charcuterie. She couldn’t believe her sense, this couldn’t be food. It must have been some sort of magic trick, a spell maybe? How could a simple sausage have so many flavours, such texture? Sarya caught herself licking some sauce at the corner of her lush mouth, biting her plump lower lip as a second wave of hedonistic bliss swarmed over her. No, this was real. Before long, she reached for a second bite, eating faster and faster, her hands moving her fork with enthusiasm to taste the numerous meals she ordered from the kitchens.

The thin blonde tavern maid, who was going by the name of Lucy, watched in awe at the spectacle of Sarya’s unbridled decadence. She couldn’t believe a young damsel would indulge in such a display of gluttony, especially not in public. This brunette was already pretty thick around the middle, didn’t she had no shame at all? Lucy caught herself moving a slender hand over her own stomach, her fingers feeling her flat and toned midsection, with only the slightest touch of softness around her navel. She couldn’t image what it was to have such a bulging tummy, so plump it curved outward with its excess of flesh. Still, she couldn’t really brag about the enormity of her bosom, unlike this glutton sitting at the counter. Maybe this busty damsel was well aware of the damage she was doing to her figure, but wanted to grow her charms even more, no matter the cost. Lucy wasn’t sure if big breasted ladies were in fashion in upper society. She certainly didn’t mind the view anyways, she thought with a shy smirk. Still, she worried the young girl’s dress might not take much more strain. She could almost hear the fabric groan, the seams stretched to their limit by all this overfed curves.

Sarya was indeed getting in dangerous territories in regard to her dress’ tightness. Her plump belly was getting properly stuffed by this huge meal. She started to slow down with a disappointed frown. The hedonistic orphan was irritated she couldn’t indulge more, despite having already eaten what should have been enough to feed three of her former self, when she was still a skinny little thing. She couldn’t help it. No matter how good the food was, she was simply too full to enjoy it anymore. She also felt a little weird around the belly, a strange tightness making her uncomfortable. Unable to glance past her large bosom, Sarya couldn’t see that her dress was tightly wrapped around her bulging tummy, making the decadent curve of her round stomach painfully obvious to any bystanders. From the side, the overfed ex-thief appeared so thick her belly was bulging on her lap as she sat on the stool. The seams were holding to their dear life, but the high quality of the dress made it too tough to rip yet. Instead, Sarya just looked cramped in her own clothes, her agility reduced to nothing as she clumsily stood from the counter, done with her meal.

Standing in precarious balance, her bosom bouncing from her unsteady movement, the curly brunette downed a cup of cider to help the food go down, and paid a properly blushing Lucy, who was astonished by the sheer gluttony of this strange girl. Still, the thin tavern maid hoped it wasn’t the last time she would see this new customer. In all honesty, she couldn’t keep her eyes away from her broad and cushy backside as she walked out into the street, the voluptuous shape of her tightly wrapped bum having nothing to envy to the massive bosom she spent the last hour glancing at. Lucy hoped the plump girl would be fine, her dress seemed so awfully tight.

 

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  • 2 weeks later...

Chapter 6 : of gems and flowers

Compared to the squalor and indigence of the shanty towns, Malgoren seemed to hold endless marvels. As soon as she stepped in the sun bathed streets of this early afternoon, Sarya had her eyes full with countless details. The brightly painted houses and shops were the most stunning elements of this new decor, but the plump ex-thief quickly noticed more subtle signs of the capital’s wealth and prosperity. This place was nothing more than a traders’ street, yet the ground wasn’t wet with mud and the usual human wastes that were always flowing in the streets outside the city. The roads were actually paved and clean, with drainage ditch on the sides that were carrying the filth away down sewer holes. Even more importantly, the people strolling around were all so elegant, even the lowliest servant or shopkeeper looking properly posh when placed in contrast with the rugged refugees and the impoverished workers that accumulated outside the walls. Sarya’s green dress wasn’t so flashy anymore, and she could even try to blend in and follow the flow of citizen to explore the city.

If following the pace of the busy people of Malgoren was the intent, it was slightly unrealistic considering Sarya’s overstuffed belly and voluptuous curves. While everyone, even the elderly, moved at a steady pace in the crowded market street, the overfed fence was moving with a slow and measured stroll, careful not to upset her round stomach by moving too quickly. In fact, the young gourmet was so very full she was forced to support her large tummy with a carefully placed hand, cupping the lower curve of her belly to support its mass and avoid uncomfortable bouncing. She could do little to keep her large bosom in check, but holding her bulging belly was in her power, even if it made it look as if she was with child, an embarrassing state of affair. Obviously, the general softness of her body would make it clear that the ‘baby’ she was carrying below her thick waist had nothing to do with youthful fertility, and all to do with gluttony. Many people would simply rush past her, sidestepping significantly to move around this decadent young lady whose womanly hips took a noticeably wider section of the sidewalk than what was proper. Of course, Sarya having her eyes full with the city’s marvels didn’t notice their judgmental looks.

One of the details that caught Sarya’s attention, however, was how ripe for stealing people were in this part of town. Her street urchin reflexes were still pretty sharp despite her recent change in occupation, and she spotted half of a dozen easy marks that were almost painful to watch with all the wealth that was displayed in full view. The young brunette would glance at full and low hanging purses, loose golden bracelets, and fragile gemstone amulets and bite her lower lip, the temptation to steal almost unbearable. It was as if they didn’t have thieves inside the walls. If was certainly not the case, but these merchants and wealthy bureaucrats weren’t that worried about it, and made for excessively easy targets. They were almost begging for her to snatch something. The thing with a former street urchin like Sarya was that, no matter how smart, how patient, how experienced she was, opportunism was deeply engraved in her psyche. It was part of this survivor instinct that kept her alive and running in her teenage years. Fortune favours the bold, and in the world of street orphans, it was fortunate to make it to adulthood. That meant that, even without dire necessity, even if it might not have been the wisest thing to do, and even if she should have been made keenly aware she was in no state for a quick escape if things went sour, Sarya simply had to scratch this itch and steal something. The opportunity was simply too good. Like inside the inn, her mind couldn’t wrap itself around all the city had to offer.

Spotting a tall and slender aristocrat wearing an expensive looking blue dress and a gem displaying bracelet made of white gold, Sarya decided she could indulge in at least one pickpocket flourish, especially if the prize was worth more than a month worth of smuggling. The shorter and stockier girl hurried a little to catch up with the tall and aloof locking lady, feeling her huge bosom bounce endlessly as she fast walked. Once she was in reach, she tapped on the shoulder of the noble. When the lady turned to see who was bothering her, Sarya started her act, making it as if she was utterly lost in the city, a provincial young burgher that was supposed to meet with her cousin at the central plaza. She asked the tall noble for directions, her face a mask of confusion and poorly veiled despair. Clearly the slender aristocrat didn’t appreciate the interaction, but her manners were compelling her to act politely and assist this apparently dim witted plumper. Once Sarya got a semblance of direction from her target, she grabbed her hands in an exaggerated display of thankfulness, quickly snatching the bracelet in the same motion. As soon as the slender lady walked away, Sarya moved her joined hands to her chest in a gesture of reconnaissance and skilfully pushed the expensive bracelet in the depths of her cavernous cleavage. The whole interaction lasted at most thirty seconds, and the woman would probably have forgotten her face by the time she noticed the thievery, if she ever connected the dots that is.

Feeling quite proud of her success, Sarya walked with renewed energy. Before long, she had left the artisan district and entered one of the many urban gardens that were placed inside the capital for the enjoyment of the citizens. Majestic trees and splendid works of horticulture were placed along wide paved paths, with nobles and wealthy citizens sitting, reading, and walking in this heavenly decor. Feeling a little winded after walking so much in her constricting dress, Sarya paused to enjoy the view. She quickly spotted a gorgeous pink flower that was standing out in nearby patch. Curious by nature, the plump orphan slowly moved across the path to see it up close. The buxom young lady had to lean over ever so slightly to see its white doted petals over the large curve of her voluptuous breast. Wondering how it smelled like, she leaned a little bit more, feeling her soft stuffed belly fold ever so slightly over her lap as she did, an unusual feeling. With her heavy swaying breasts now hanging right in front of her, pulled by the hand of gravity, the pretty ex-urchin was catching a lot of looks, both from lust and disapprobation. Not quite catching the flagrance of the flower, Sarya lowered herself a little further by bending her knees. At this very moment, the awfully tight green dress busted at the seams, a large gap opening on the left side of Sarya’s plump midsection where the fabric lost its long battle against the bulging mass of the girl’s growing belly. A gasp went through the numerous witnesses of this wardrobe malfunction, while Sarya stood up like a spring, her cheeks burning red with embarrassment.

The overfed young fence immediately wrapped her arms around her thick waist to try to hide the pale flesh of her chubby love handle poking out, and ran away in the garden, her huge bust and copious bum bouncing and swaying at every clumsy step during her humiliated escape. Waves of self-consciousness momentarily washed away the coat of denial that Sarya kept around her weight gain, making her keenly aware of how heavy she felt, and how broad her hips were as she tried to slip past people in the gardens. She was getting desperate at this point, and needed an expedite answer to this clothing problem. It was her only proper set of clothing, and there was no way she could return to the inn in this state, it was half the city away. She had to find a seamstress and get this fixed immediately. It was obvious she didn’t had the stamina or speed to run much longer, not anymore, not with all this fat piled on her formerly thin body. Luckily for Sarya, she spotted a store right in front of her, with various fancy dress displayed on slender mannequins in the front. The styles were oddly similar to her own garment, but Sarya didn’t bothered thinking about this detail in such of state or urgency. She quickly slipped past the front door, closing it behind her.

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Chapter 7 : exposed

 

Luckily for the plump ex-thief in distress, the store was free of customers. It was clearly an expansive and posh seamstress boutique, with fresh pastel paint on the walls and intricate woodwork on counters and door-frames. Everything here was elegant and of high quality. It’s was clearly intended for nobles and prosperous burgers, but there was more than simply dresses of high fashion. Sarya caught herself looking at high end practical clothing; high waist riding trousers, fine linen shirts, waxed rain coats, thick wool vests, and even one woman sized gambeson were displayed as sample, near the foot high stool that was used to take customers measurements. As Sarya stumbled in, panting heavily with her arms wrapped around her midsection to cover her exposed love handle, a small bell rang, and the owner of the shop made her entrance from the back store, slipping out of a slender door that was hidden by a curtain.

As soon as she stepped in, she stared at Sarya with a strange look, her eyes lingering on the ripped dress, before going up to the fence’s embarrassed face, and then slowly looking down at the girl’s overflowing figure from bosom to calves. Her eyes were stone cold, the grey of her pupil not letting out anything apart from intense thinking, and maybe a touch of judgmental disapproval. Little did Sarya know, but this respected artisan was as sharp as she was talented, and Miss Evelyn couldn’t forget a dress she designed with her own hands, nor she could forget it was ordered by Lady Gloria of Eastbury. This busty young damsel had nothing in common with the sweet toothed noble she helped last month, apart from her own obvious lack of self-discipline. From the way the girl was unaccompanied and clearly the victim of a wardrobe malfunction, Evelyn could immediately guess that she was of common stock, and the way she kept her curled brown hair mid length and lose was utterly mundane, meaning she had no maid to assist her, not the knowledge of Malgoren’s fashion norms. Having such a person wearing this particular dress meant only one thing in the eyes of the stern seamstress ; this person was a thief, not that she was surprised considering she was obviously greedy and weak willed. Her appalling soft features and ripped dress were making it quite evident in Evelyn’s mind.

Miss Evelyn wasn’t a noble or even born into wealth. In fact, the stunning dark haired woman used to be an adventurer, running errands and accomplishing missions for far richer and more important people. That was until her skills and efficiency provided her with enough hard earned money to learn a proper trade and buy herself a place in the capital’s artisan guild. Evelyn was now in her mid-thirties and she was one of most respected craftspeople in town, having learned from the best and travelled as far as the elven shores to learn about fabrics and clothes. Evelyn despised thieves and others that were trying to take what she considered as shortcuts toward proper achievement. She saw herself as an icon of respectability, a role model for commoners trying to find a place in society. This overfed wreck standing inside her store was disgusting Evelyn by her mere presence. Not only was she morally lacking, but her body was shamefully plump. This short and busty thief was, what, 20 years old at most? At this age, one was expected to be slender, graceful, and lithe as a feather. She was blessed by youth, yet she was already too fat to fit into the dress of Evelyn’s fattest recent costumer. What a shame. Evelyn, on the other hand, might have been quite older, but her body was as toned as she used to be in her adventuring days. Her light grey long skirt, white linen shirt, and blue velvet bustier were enhancing her lean and feminine figure, showcasing the absolute flatness of her well defined stomach as well as her thin waist. The seamstress’ bum and bosom were shapely and firm, and she moved with a fencer’s grace.

As she starred at the disgraceful thief that lumbered inside her store, Evelyn thought about unsheathing her dagger and execute an impromptu citizen arrest against this girl. She was confident she could handle this clumsy criminal with no problem. Yet, this seemed way too expeditive. The ex-adventurer wasn’t concerned as much by the law as she was by her own sense of morality, and this thief would probably simply be whipped and expelled in the shanty towns for her crimes, not much of an opportunity to learn about the mistakes of her ways. No, if this girl was here, wearing a noble’s dress and trying to blend in with the proper folks of the city, Evelyn realized this greedy glutton was already her own worst enemy. As this thought lingered on the woman’s mind, she stopped her silent starring and addressed her ‘client’, faking a firm but motherly tone in her voice.

‘’My dear, I can see what the problem is. This dress is quite damaged. I fear I will need some time to repair the fabric, and that can’t be done if the thing is still fighting for its precious life. Please, get in the cabin and get undressed. I will need to take some measurements as well. I am Miss Evelyn, by the way, I didn’t quite catch your name young lady.’’

Sarya blushed strawberry red. She was already feeling quite naked under the stern gaze of this shopkeeper, and getting in her undergarments in front of the lady wasn’t very appealing, especially considering own small her under tunic was. Still, she didn’t have much choice. Making a clumsy curtsey, the overfed orphan introduced herself with her real name, not mentioning any family name, and quickly walked inside the changing room, closing the door on her plush figure as she started to struggle to remove her tight green dress. Small grunts and signs of breathlessness could be heard in the room, causing Evelyn to smirk as she listened, a new idea building in her mind.

This Sarya girl clearly bit more than she could chew, and the lean seamstress decided she was going to enable these unrealistic ambitions. The sweetest lesson for this plumper would be to bump against the limits of her charade once it was too late, and collapse under the weight of her wrongdoings. For that to happen, Evelyn needed to swallow her disgust and assist her forward on her self-destructive path. This shouldn’t be too hard, and could even be entertaining. Evelyn certainly liked to flaunt her perfect body in front of lesser women, and watching this young one ruin her figure might open for some great opportunities for subtle humiliations and prideful contrast.

A few moments later, Sarya shyly stepped out in the open, her ripped dress tucked under her arm. She was wearing a thin, almost translucent under tunic as underwear, the poor thing almost as tight as the dress was itself. The light fabric was wrapping itself around every curve and rolls, exposing the slight swells of fat on the girl’s back as well as the small rolls on her sides. Her huge bosom was almost bursting out of the tight garment, the large globes of flesh squeezed in a cramped mass by the fabric, which was clearly straining under the pressure of these massive melons. Her cleavage was properly overflowing. Evelyn even felt a slight and ephemeral moment of empathy for the back muscles of this busty felon, which vanished as soon as her eyes noticed the belly of the girl. The seamstress moved a hand to the side of her temple, frowning at the ungodly sight of the blubbery mass. The soft and well-padded stomach was uncovered from the navel down, the poor tunic simply too small to be pulled over its curve. Subtle pink stretch marks were even visible on the sides of this otherwise smooth ball of dough, revealing to Evelyn what she already suspected ; this girl was blowing up rapidly, all this weight was quite new on her. The ex-adventurer even recognized the slight presence of muscle tone under the flesh, as was made noticeable by the way the fat wasn’t quite as thick around her waist. This hourglass shaped plumper used to know how to move. This knowledge only intensified Evelyn's disgust. Sarya stood mostly immobile apart from the gentle and constant motion of her heaving bosom, starring at Evelyn with an obvious air of vulnerability, while the older woman fetched her measuring tape.

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Chapter 8 : sizing up

 

Sarya stood helplessly as Evelyn poked and prodded her bulging body. Thin fingers pinched thick folds of overfed flesh on the young brunette’s sides and tummy, feeling the soft and sensitive skin of Sarya’s growing curves. The slender and toned seamstress was left baffled by this girl’s figure. This thief had developed a quite well fed plumpness all over, a layer of disgraceful fat covering every inch of her youthful body, even softening the features of her stunning face. Yet, saying she was simply chubby wouldn’t quite describe the reality that was laid before Evelyn’s eyes. Certainly, this young woman was shamefully overweight and displaying a clear lack of self-discipline, but no one could ignore that she was quite blessed when it came to the way her figure carried all this excess of flesh. If Sarya’s blubbery tummy haven’t been bulging out of her undersized tunic, Evelyn would have easily forgotten about her target’s midsection, for the sheer size of her bosom, and the outrageous width of her hips and bottom were simply overshadowing this rotund and stuffed belly.

Moving her measuring tape around the girth of her overfed ‘client’, Evelyn’s jaw almost dropped as she realized with awe and even outrage that Sarya’s overflowing bust was exceeding 53 inches, with her firm and bouncy breasts protruding 13 inches bigger than her ribcage. No wonder why she looked so cramped in her dress. Any bigger and Evelyn would have needed a longer tape to stretch around the girl’s huge mounds. The band was already biting quite a bit in the soft globes as it was. The ex-adventurer didn’t even want to think about how much those charms weighted. As a fencer, she was certain she couldn’t have made it alive if she had been weighted down by such overly ripe melons in her fighting days. Being so busty was certainly not practical.

Moving her attention further down the thief’s soft body, Evelyn noticed another detail. Despite having such a thick waist buried in fat, the short brunette was in fact presenting a very pronounced hourglass shape, further enhanced by the remaining core muscle hidden under this recent weight gain. After she lectured the fattened lass about her pointless efforts to suck in her stomach, Evelyn wrapped her tape around Sarya’s womanly hips, noticing with a judgmental grunt that they stretched almost as wide as her bosom, a full 50 inches, with her round bum pushing this number further up, while her waist was a robust 37 inches. The fact Sarya’s was bigger as the waist than Evelyn’ at the hips made the tall woman smiles with a sense of superiority. Knowing this contrast was doomed to exacerbate was only the cherry of the cake for the devious artisan.

Once she was done measuring, Evelyn pulled her tape back and commented with a stern tone, while moving a finger across the expanse of Sarya’s bosom, like she was feeling meat at the market.

‘’Well, I can see why you were bursting at the seams of your dress, dear. You have such a buxom figure, I am afraid your former tailor didn’t quite accounted for the stress those shapely curves would add on the fabric. If you ask me, I would recommend you to wear loser clothes, to better accommodate how you move, and how it may make your… ahem… abundance, shift around. May I suggest a long summer skirt with a linen blouse tucked in? You could wear it with a bolero, in North Islander fashion, or with a thick belt, like the ladies of the Eastern Marches. The tight dresses of the Capital’s fashion are simply ill suited for ladies of your shape. See the situation it led you in. Luckily for you, this is a cosmopolitan city, you can afford to be creative.’’

Sarya listened carefully to the tailor’s advice, a little destabilized by how touchy she was. Were all seamstresses like that, she wondered? Anyhow, as much as she enjoyed her green dress, she couldn’t help but like the idea of wearing outfits more akin to those she used to wear in the slums outside the walls. She had a bit more trouble moving than before, and she was sure most of these recent struggles were caused by these cumbersome noble garments. After all, her false identity was that of a prosperous trader’s daughter, a wealthy commoner, not a noble of any kind. She wanted to blend in as an annuitant from the province; maybe more regular clothes would be better suited than this flashy stolen dress, no matter how much the ex-urchin liked it. While attempting without much success to pull her small tunic over her protruding tummy, feeling a little exposed by her skimpy attire, Sarya asked Evelyn how much time she would need to prepare such clothes, and if she could save and resized her dress.

Evelyn almost laughed at the girl’s audacity. Resizing the green dress was an absurd prospect. The thing was already too small to begin with, and Sarya didn’t look like a girl heading toward a diet in the near future. Still, Evelyn wouldn’t say no to good business, and if this deceitful thief could afford her wage, she was going to accept her silver, even if the dress was doomed to lose its fight against her ever bulging waistline. As for the practical clothes, Sarya was in good luck. Evelyn had tailored a set for a wealthy bride that was with child. Unfortunately for the lady and the shopkeeper, the damsel lost the baby before reaching the later months. She had loose pregnancy clothes of an adequate size waiting right in her back store, useless until now. The overfed lass had no need to know the real nature of these skirts and blouses.

With a mysterious smile, Evelyn vanished past the narrow door into her workshop, quickly coming back with arms full of splendid skirts, linen shirts, soft cotton blouses, and a few vests and boleros to accompany the rest. Everything was light and cut to be ample. It was perfect for the tailor’s plan. She wanted Sarya to stay in denial of her gain as long as possible, so her gluttony could lead her as far as possible on this path of self-destruction. Moving with grace and precision, Evelyn placed a full set on the counter of her shop, inviting her ‘client’ to try the green and golden skirt, as well as the white blouse, while she packed the rest of the clothes aside.

A dimpled smile formed on Sarya gorgeous face as she watched the seamstress unwrap what seemed like a whole new wardrobe for her new life inside Malgoren. Quite confident she could afford that kind of whim, the plump ex-pickpocket tried the sample set presented to her by Miss Evelyn. Growing more and more enthusiast by the seconds, the gluttonous con artist slipped inside the ample blouse, feeling pleased to see it was fitting her quite well. Only the bosom was a bit snug, but it was easily solved by letting the collar unbuttoned, letting the flesh bulge a bit through the cleavage. She noticed it was letting her upper arms bare, something she wasn’t used to. If she did, she would have also noticed how round and soft her arms appeared a far cry from the lithe toned limbs that helped her climb and crawl so nimbly in the shanty towns. The skirt went up without much issue, even if it was obvious it wasn’t made for someone enjoying a backside as generous as Sarya. She couldn’t see it, but her big luscious bum cheeks were quite visible from behind, pushing the light fabric around their mass in a way to left little to the imagination. The band of the skirt was oddly elastic, some kind of alchemical fabric as Evelyn explained. It would stretch around Sarya’s soft midsection without problem, the wide band only biting slightly in the pliable form of her tummy. The doughy curve of her pampered stomach was also pushing the loose fabric forward, adjusting to her plumpness better than her dress, but doing little to hide it. Happy with the comfort she felt inside this new attire, Sarya spun around like a young girl, watching her long skirt spread and rise as she rotated twice, almost giggling.

Evelyn watched in silence, before adorning a motherly smile, pushing her long black hair back as to get a better look of her customer. With a warmer tone than she used earlier, she asked:

‘’I see you are quite happy with the result, Miss Sarya. If you want, I can have the rest delivered to your address once you send me my wage. The dress with take more time, I am afraid, but I believe if can be done. I will use the measurements as my guideline for the changes. Otherwise, I have a good mental picture of your… proportions. I am confident I can make it fit you, as you are today. Now, if you have some time, I would appreciate if we went for tea in a place nearby, while I ask my assistant to prepare the bill for you. I hope you can accept my hospitality, I feel like we met under awkward circumstances, and I don’t want a customer to leave with such an impression. I have the intuition you might be new to the city, isn’t it? I could help you a bit on that matter, I am well connected. What do you say, shall we have some tea?’’

Sarya was caught off-guard by the sudden invitation, and didn’t know what to say. She was afraid a friendly conversation would risk exposing her situation to this stranger, but refusing could arise more suspicions. Shifting her weight from one leg to the other, the plump brunette froze, hesitating, stumbling to find an excuse. She was cut short by Evelyn, the slender seamstress stepping close and placing a thin hand on Sarya’s soft arm.

‘’Please, I am sure it will be worth your time. The pastries are quite delicious as well.’’

At the mention of desert, Sarya caught herself nodding almost unconsciously, the hedonistic fence hypnotized by the idea of tasting more of the treats Malgoren had to offer. With her charming voice, she accepted the invitation, a coy smile on her plump lips. There was nothing wrong with having a few cookies, after all.

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