Goodbrew

[Batman76]

Oh yes, alchemy can work so well. A potion that makes you a size four...never know how long it'll keep the other thirty sizes off....

[flyer33]

Here's a new chapter of Goodbrew, set in a new city of the same world, with a different protagonist. Sophia Miller is the sweet-toothed but vain and slim wife of a miller (obviously) who was recently inherited a big watermill that makes high quality flour for a city whose people are thoroughly addicted to fattening cakes and tarts!

 

Chapter 7: The Miller of Montrose

 

For three weeks’ journey by horse, the King’s North Road forged its way upwards from the bustling southern towns of the royal counties, through the vast hilly backwaters of the midlands, up to the wealthy lake towns and flax fields of the kingdom’s northernmost province. There, the Road ended at the wealthy city of Montrose, on Lake Jeneva. There was no more King’s Road beyond that: the steep routes eastwards, up to the High Principalities, were a matter for the princes and assorted royal families of the fractious Holy League; to the west there were swampy river routes, and lucrative flax farms, until the Great Sea; and north of the lakes there were the sparsely populated hills ruled by the Kingdom’s poorest barons, followed by fjords and islets.

It came as no relief to any travellers by carriage, that the final day’s journey on the King’s North Road had a paved surface. For it was a very badly paved surface.

“Oof! My poor bottom!” Protested Sophia Miller, feeling absolutely ill-used by the jolting of her carriage.

No number of wool-stuffed cushions could make a long carriage ride comfortable on the bottom. Nor was there much help from the slight extra cushioning added onto Sophia Miller’s bottom by three weeks of eating stodgy inn fare. Ideally, perhaps, she would have taken a few additional days to recuperate, stretch her legs, and exercise a little to keep herself fit and slender! But there was no time, for the young Mrs Miller was in haste to reach her destination!

By very good fortune – good for the young and pretty Sophia Miller, anyway – her husband’s cousin, who had been the owner of a great water mill in the wealthy lakeside city of Montrose, had died suddenly at midwinter. Two of the rich miller’s sons were notorious wastrels who had previously been disinherited, another had been lost a few years back in a boating accident, and the fourth had succumbed to a winter illness of his own as the spring drew near. The prosperous watermill, therefore, had passed to Sophia’s husband, Dane Miller.

Long before his inheritance of the Montrose mill, Dane Miller had been a most eligible bachelor, coming as he did from a prosperous family with ample land, and being a journeyman miller himself. Sophia, the pretty daughter of a yeoman farmer in the next village, had been counted exceptionally lucky to capture his hand in marriage. Indeed, the village gossips agreed that Sophia had only won him because of her shapely figure, fair height, pretty features, and her much-discussed reputation for sexual adventurousness. The gossips also said that the handsome Dane, who was in his thirties to Sophia’s nineteen years, was still much too good for her! But Sophia had soon popped out three sons and two daughters, and enjoyed married life without drawing much remark, so the gossips had to find new subjects for their entertainment.  

Still, there was one aspect of married life Sophia Miller did not enjoy, and that was the need to decline most of the sweet tarts, rich pastries, and many other indulgent foods available to her as the wife of a prosperous miller. She had to maintain her figure! For Sophia knew very well that her husband had a wandering eye for any pretty young tart with a pert bottom and good bust: that was how she herself had caught him, after all! And it would not do for some lissom young slut to slip into her husband’s affections, and steal away the rich luxuries that rightly belonged to Sophia! Which, alas, meant Sophia must restrict herself to small portions at mealtimes, with pudding infrequently – and blackberry tart, her particular weakness, never at all! She simply couldn’t risk getting a “tart tummy,” as her sister had once teased her for displaying after too much winter feasting in her youth. And certainly not the bottom-heavy figure which so many millers’ wives soon gained after a few years of gorging on pastries and cakes made with the finest wheat flour! Instead, Sophia had forced herself to diet, diet, diet, and to get her shapely figure back to almost its wedding-day slenderness, after every one of her five pregnancies! It helped that she had an excellent bosom, which attracted a few of the pounds she couldn’t shed, and distracted very effectively from the others! And, of course, Sophia still made sure, after six years of marriage, to entice her husband to bed for sex twice on most days – and three times at the weekend! He joked that she had the sexual appetite of a whore, but at least Sophia could be confident he wouldn’t have the energy to stray! 

Anyway, Sophia Miller had kept her husband from wasting his (and her!) money on a pretty little mistress. But then, with the splendid Montrose inheritance, he’d had to rush up the King’s Road to get the business in order, and prevent any other would-be watermill proprietor from taking over. For some time, he would be out of her sight, and doubtless being measured up for illicit affairs by lascivious city ladies! It was with this danger in mind that Sophia had arranged to follow as soon as possible, although by carriage with a little baggage rather than on horseback, naturally. There was no time to waste! With their wealth and desirability greatly increased by the Montrose mill, Sophia would simply have to have sex with her husband three or four, or perhaps even five times a day to keep him from getting aroused by would-be mistresses! Just thinking about it all was exhausting! But Sophia saw there was no choice. Of course, to get sex three-to-five times daily, Sophia would need to buy plenty of alluring new clothes and lingerie from the fashionable seamstresses of Montrose - a prospect she relished! But she’d also need to shed the good inch or more of chub she’d packed on from eating large meals at inns on her way north! The fact was, Sophia Miller was accustomed to sex twice daily; and, deprived of that on her carriage journey, she had slaked her appetite by overindulging in food! Heavy game pie; too many soft cheeses; breads with fruit preserves, syrups, or honey; greasy fried breakfasts that were very large and spilled over the plate... She’d enjoyed them most days, which was far too often for a woman with a figure to maintain! If she weren’t careful, she’d grow chubby and be unable to suck in her “tart tummy” when she disrobed to make love with her husband!

 The worst of all was Sophia’s fondness for blackberry tart! She hardly ever allowed herself to indulge, for she knew very well that she couldn’t get enough once she had a taste of pastry filled with sweet, sharp, black berries. She would eat, eat, eat, until there were no tarts left, or else until her stomach swelled like a pregnancy! But being pregnant with tart – and her lips stained black and with the inevitable dollop on her creamy bosom – was hardly a good look for a woman would strived to maintain her wedding day figure (even a woman whose struggle was slightly assisted by a teeny bit of vanity and denial)!

Clatter! Swoosh!

The endless juddering of the carriage changed tone, as its wheels rolled onto the relatively smoother paving of the city proper!

Sophia Miller leaned out of the window and gaped in awe at the beautiful, rich city. She’d already known Lake Jeneva was beautiful, with its alpine backdrop reflected from the azure lake, but she’d not anticipated just how fabulous the great stone mansions and pretty markets would be. Jetties led to the glittering lake and its handsome riverboats! The city of Montrose was clean! It was far smaller in population than the squalid southern capital, but even so! The air, blowing down from the snow-capped alpine vistas to the east, was practically fresh. She was sure she espied some worker in the distance actually washing the cobbled street! The people of Montrose looked rich: merchants, and bankers, and professionals, and wealthy storekeepers!

And then, there it was...

The tart shop!

La Tarterie!

And entire shop, dedicated to tarts of every kind!

Sophia’s stomach gurgled in anticipation.

“No!” Sophia told herself, with a finger pressing her small amount of tummy chub. “I mustn’t! I have a figure to maintain!”

Sophia’s tummy repeated its gurgle, but louder.

“Perhaps just one, small tart!” Sophie told herself. “I shall earn it, after all... I’m going to be having a lot of sex in the next few days. Which I’m sure will be enough to work off a mouthful or two of confectionary! And I simply must know just how good the pastry shops are here! My husband shall be selling them fine flour, after all!”

With a thump, Sophia Miller signalled for her carriage to stop briefly, and she tottered out in the direction of La Tarterie. A smug smile crossed her lips as she approached the store: she couldn’t help notice how much slimmer she was than the rather plump ladies in fine dresses who were heading in the same direction! Some of them – merchant’s wives, or perhaps minor nobles – had double chins and hefty bottoms, and looked positively FAT!

But soon, as Sophia Miller entered the tart shop, and was hit full square in the face by the aroma of fresh baking, and the irresistible scent of freshly-made fruit fillings, she began to suspect she’d discovered one reason why the wealthy ladies in Montrose veered distinctly towards overweightness! 

* *

That evening...

 

Sophia Miller had eaten far, far too much. And all of it was fattening tart!

“Oh!” Sophia patted her chest and burped to relieve her fruit-and-sugar induced indigestion. “I’m. Urp! SO STUFFED!”

The evening had started very well. She’d arrived the great watermill. She’d gazed in smug awe at the three-storey size of the stone building, the huge waterwheel filling the river-side wall from top to bottom. She’d tottered inside, bathed, and changed from her travel dress into a clingy cotton white ensemble that displayed her large breasts to good effect, and then patiently waited for a good hard session with her husband once he’d finished work with some apprentices. Fortunately, he’d come very soon – after three weeks, Sophia was exceedingly horny, and she’d no appetite to wait for long. Fortunately she hadn’t had to, and although she found herself displeased with how hard her husband pounded her, she nonetheless came quickly and several times!

After that, with husband asleep, Sophia had unwisely decided to sample a little slice of one of the tarts she’d purchased on her route through the town. She’d made a big mistake by shopping whilst hungry, and she soon lived to regret buying not just one miniature tart, but four hefty ones, each fit for a whole family dessert. The smallest had a pound of sweetened cherry filling, glazed with honey, topping a good half pound of delicate, flaky pastry. The largest, of course, was a three-pound blackberry beast! Blackberries were Sophia’s favourite! But she should have learned that just one slice was never enough! Heavens, one whole tart was seldom enough. Not when Sophia knew there was more in the offing!

Alas, Sophia had been a bit to careless, due to the elation of discovering her wealthy new mill home, and no obvious mistress for her husband in sight – for the housemaid, like many women in Montrose, was surely far too fat to elicit much interest!

And so Sophia had sampled slice after slice of tart. And when all four were sampled, she sampled them again – blackberry first, then cherry, citron, and a tart made with syrup and nuts. Then a third sample, for better comparison. Sophia’s poor tummy had begun to ache as she ate, ate, and ate! She had to stop for a tankard of water, and to fan herself, for the sugar was too much. But then she’d resumed her tart binge, until all four massive pastries were gone, and her poor stomach, straining her skimpy cotton slip to the limit, felt distended and stuffed like something a butcher might do with sausage meat! But she'd done it to herself with sweet, sharp, and excessive fruit pastry!

“Ugh!” Sophia Miller gurgled.

Blackberry sauce dripped down her pretty face – no hint of a double chin for Sophia, thanks to years of strict dieting! Pastry crumbs collected on her large, milk-engorged boobs: she needed to express! But first, her poor, gurgling guts needed relief!

It was night-time, but the mill house was well equipped with oil lamps. Sophia struggled to the gardrobe, which opened direct into the river, and groaned and moaned as she struggled to digest and relieve herself of far too much tart! Several pounds of sugared fruit, and more pounds of pastry, no matter how light and airy, were simply too much for her tummy.

“Won’t ever do this again!” Sophia gasped for air as her guts churned, and she got a tiny bit of relief. But she was certain she would be struggling on the privy for hours thanks her to her tart binge.

Alas for Sophia’s guts and waistline, she’d never been quite so good as she imagined at turning down her weakness: fruit tart! And she’d never lived in a place with an exquisite pastry shop dedicated to nothing else but stuffing tarts into the city’s sweet-toothed wives!

All in all, Sophia Miller’s travel chub was going, perhaps, to stick to her bottom and bustline for longer than she intended...

 

* *

 

[Batman76]

I love this new character, hopefully she'll have to realize fat is the best way to keep her husband.

[>_< 0_0]

You know, at first I thought it was unrealistic for someone to have such consistently weak willpower, but then I remembered how hard it is to wake up after the first alarm

[flyer33]

Chapter 8: The Mistresses of Montrose

 

Idyllic as its lakeside setting might be, amid mountain orchards and yellow grain fields, the city of Montrose lay in the kingdom’s northernmost province. Even in summer, a northerly wind could bring harsh weather for days. A blanket of wet fog rolling over the docks, and filling the paved streets until there was nothing to see but white cloud, was hardly uncommon. Such weather could dampen the mood among the city’s pampered wives and mistresses. To a woman, the ladies of Montrose relished every opportunity to flaunt their fashionably full figures in their latest voluptuous silks and luscious perfumes, but the chance was quite lost when the air was so thick with mist they could scarce be seen. And worse, they might catch cold in the drizzle! Though, in fairness, their diets were so overly rich it was doubtful they genuinely felt the cold.

Still, the prosperity of Montrose had grown over the decades, as rich mercers and moneyed folk had settled in the count’s idyllic stone town, and the upmarket silversmiths and glassblowers had arrived until they overflowed their respective streets. Now, even on the chilliest days, the prosperous folk of Montrose could enjoy their favourite activities in the warm comfort of glass-windowed inns or a dozen other kinds of fine establishment – from speciality restaurants to upmarket brothels, and mixtures in between! But the favourite way for any fashionable woman to spend her time was entertaining her friends at a restaurant or cake shop, plying each other with unhealthily large amounts of the richest food and drink they could afford, and vying to eat until their engorged, overindulged bellies could take no more and they must struggle homeward feeling fatter than ever!

Sophia Miller eyed the fog-bound street outside the Fat Ox, the luxurious Montrose restaurant at which her friends had insisted she join them to be plied with cakes, patés, roasts, buttered greens, creamy mashes, and of course, multiple servings of her weakness: fruit tart! Sophia felt quite sick after all that, plus four big servings of the last, and had to push out her stomach scandalously far to get some relief from her overindulgence! Her pleated white dress betrayed a swollen midriff, its pleats pulled taut like she was five months pregnant! And it wasn’t just taut at the belly! Her boobs felt fatter and swollen from overindulgence too.

Sophia’s predicament was all her friends’ fault! And among Sophia’s friends it was most of all the fault of Rosie Beaumont, the thickly-plump young wife of a silk merchant! Rosie had been the first of Sophia’s circle to discover the miller’s wife’s weakness for fruit tart! Ever since, whenever a neighbour called at the mill house, or Sophia visited them, there was sure to be tart – either a single enormous one, or a selection of big slices with various berries and fruits – and they would tempt Sophia with claims of its deliciousness until her willpower weakened and she succumbed to another tart binge! And this, more than anything, was why Sophia had failed to diet herself slender in the months since her arrival at Montrose and had instead gained a stone and a half around her deplorably fleshy middle! For the first time in her life, she could pinch an inch on her thighs – and more than an inch, in fact!

“Another – hiccup – another slice of – hicc – blackberry tart, Sophia?” Inquired the faux-posh tones of Mrs Rosie Beaumont.

Although married to a silk merchant, and frequently clad in the most revealing wares of his trade, Rosie Beaumont had today dressed in a voluptuous long gown of dark red velvet. She had chosen it “against the cold”, though the gown’s side was split almost up to the buttock, revealing a pale thigh fleshy with so much flab it was unlikely Mrs Beaumont would notice a blizzard, let alone the chill of a fog bound summer day. Rosie Beaumont was more than merely chubby, and the red velvet hugged the heavy bulges of her lower body, hips wide and belly swollen from years of unlimited fattening fare. A copper chain belt had ridden up Rosie’s middle – at noon, it had merely cinched her middle inward an inch or two, helping to give the impression of a desirable hourglass in combination with the expanse of her chubby breasts exposed by a deep “V” neckline. After gorging herself without a rest for over three hours, Rosie had swelled considerably, and the chain rolled up to the bottom of her gown’s neckline, where it dug in to the rich wife’s inflated midsection until the woman tugged at it uncomfortably.

Sophia emitted a gurgling belch. “I ate too much, Rosie.” Sophia groaned, patting her gravid guts for emphasis. “Honestly! No more today for me, or I’ll be sick! And quite possibly discarded by my husband for a slimmer little chit!”

Rosie hiccupped her assent. “Alright, Sophia! You’ve done very well, and – urp!” Rosie’s stomach gurgled. “Oof! I’m not sure I could manage to share another tart with you in any case. Alas, my stomach’s churning rather a lot already, and one more portion might put her in open revolt! Oof! I don’t know how I’m going to find room for dinner!”

Rosie slapped her chubby chest to release a long burp, but such was her day’s overindulgence it didn’t seem to bring her much relief.

“Perhaps you should give dinner a miss, tonight?” Sophia suggested. She herself certainly intended to!

Rosie made an indignant noise.

“Don’t be silly, Sophia!” Said the silk merchant’s wife. “Tonight I simply must find room for six courses! I dine with my husband, and I absolutely have to show off my most lustful appetite! After all, a tummy ache, gassiness, and a few heart palpitations from eating too much pudding are a small price to pay, to keep a rich husband’s attentions from straying!”

Palpitations? Sophia raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you should have passed on a few of the pudding courses we enjoyed earlier?” The plum pudding, for example, had been super heavy, and caused Sophia’s bowels to protest every time she shifted in her seat to try easing it downwards. Rosie should certainly had skipped it if she’d known needed room for even more rich food later!

“Don’t be silly, darling!” Rosie said. “They were all delicious! I’ll just have to spend a little extra time with a laxative tea on the chamber-** before dinnertime.”

Huh! Sophia sulked. Rosie Beaumont might get away with such a relaxed attitude towards overeating. But she didn’t have Sophia’s husband, Dane, who was most certainly not an admirer of the fashionably fat Montrose ideal! Indeed, Sophia had needed to become creative with her clothing and makeup to disguise how plump her hips and belly were growing. If she weren’t careful, Dane would fall into the grasping clutches of some tight-corseted mistress!

Sophia and Dane Miller had quickly made numerous friends like Rosie– for the death of Montrose’s previous miller had precipitated a near-disaster among the moderately wealthy wives and mistress of Montrose's upper middle class! Namely, the abrupt collapse in the supply of high-quality cake flour, for only a master miller could produce it!

Without finely-ground cake flour, Rosie Beaumont and friends had been obliged to make do with cakes and tarts made with coarse flour, containing too much husk and whole fibre! Which might sound healthy to an outside observer, but the fact was that the ladies of Montrose were accustomed to stuffing their stomachs silly, to make themselves fashionable overweight. And whereas their overtaxed tummies could tolerate cake flour in unhealthy excess, coarse flour was not only less delicious but also harder on their pampered potbellies! Just eating enough of it to maintain voluptuous curves could cause bad tummy ache! And Rosie, who’d been stubbornly trying to gain five inches around everywhere from bust to bottom, in order to fill out a magnificent new silk dress, had eaten so much pastry made with fibre-heavy wholemeal flour that she’d made herself acutely unwell with bouts of gas, and lost a stone, and two inches around the hips to boot, before she recovered!

The arrival of Dane Miller to manage the watermill had been an enormous relief – and the ladies of Montrose had shown their gratitude to Sophia by immediately inviting her to their constant stream of parties and feasts! That Sophia was aghast at the pounds their hospitality was adding to her figure, was not a concept around which Mrs Beaumont and friends could get into their heads.

Rosie gulped down a bit of raspberry tart, and belched uncomfortably, before suddenly snapping her fingers in triumph and brightened considerably

“What you need to do, Sophia...” Exclaimed Mrs Beaumont. “... Is to enlighten your husband to the delights of the full figure! Then you wouldn’t have to fret about keeping that skinny little waistline!”

Sophia burped sceptically. She wasn’t all that convinced herself about “the delights” of a large, swollen belly – trying to hers soothe it with a rub, she’d discovered it was too big for both hands to hold. Still, the tarts it contained had been delicious, even if Sophia did now feel rather ill.

“And how – BURP – would you suggest one does that, precisely?” Sophia inquired with a doubtful tone.

Rosie beamed, and reached with her plump fingers to retrieve a tiny green vial from within her creamy cleavage. She raised it to the misty white light from the window, so that Sophia could see it properly.

“Well... Option number one would be to permit an experienced mistress who possesses a well-ripened figure,” Rosie gestured to the way her ripe breasts bulged softly above her velvet neckline, “to ride your handsome husband a few times! I’m sure I wouldn’t hesitate to help, and I know exactly how to make a man appreciate a good belly and bust! I could have Dane converted to chubby chasing in a matter of a few nights!”

Sophia shook her head vigorously. She certainly had no wish for her horny husband to become accustomed to having affairs! Rosie, who already knew this would be the case, continued unperturbed. She gestured again with the green vial.

“But since you don’t fancy that, Sophia, let me suggest option number two! A Lust Potion!”

“A lust potion? What’s that?” Sophia inquired.

Rosie smiled broadly.

“Aha! A few drops of this potion in your husband’s bed-time wine, and he’ll straight away grow an irresistible lust for whatever sort of woman he next sees! I’ve used it a few times, on handsome young men from other cities who unfortunately didn’t find my own figure to their liking at first sight, and I can assure you, Sophia, it works wonders! Just make sure you’re nice and round from a good tart binge before you administer it! For you want your husband to lust for you nice and fat and well-fed, not lean and tight and hungry!”

Sophia found the vial of lust potion thrust into her hand. She wasn’t entirely sure she liked the idea of her husband developing a fat fetish... Rosie and other Montrose women talked all too eagerly of having their husbands and lovers pour cream down their throats with a funnel; but Sophia wasn’t entirely convinced she’d enjoy it. However, there was one thing she enjoyed, and all too much!

“More raspberry – BURP –  tart, Sophia?” Rosie grinned wolfishly. “I think I’ve found room for a little bit more!”

 

* *

[Batman76]

Oh boy, Sophia is already doomed... The only question is how doomed...