Jump to content

5 posts / 1234 viewsLast Reply

Recommended Posts

This story was inspired by a prompt from my GF @Bluebubblygirl ❤️ ^^

-

The world was once the domain of the gods, living and breathing entities of great power whom ruled the cycles and laws of the physical realm.


Among all the gods, the Divine Sun was the mightiest, for their light was the bringer of warmth and life and everything that was good and beautiful. The Sun fought an eternal battle against the Darkness, with only a one day truce to rest and renew their strength after each year battling across the skyline. The Divine Sun created a resting palace to enjoy this day of leisure and restore their essence, a place of beauty floating in the heavens, filled with gardens, monuments, sparkling fountains, and twelve women handpicked by the divine to be their wives.


Those were the Sun Brides, deemed the most beautiful of all mortals, whom stunning eyes could rival with the rising sun, and whom statuesque feminine figures made the sun set appear mundane in its beauty. Most of these chosen youth came from privilege and high status, chosen among high priestesses, princesses, merchant daughters, and great artists. As long as they retained their exquisiteness, the Divine Sun promised them a life unmatched by the greatest mortal queens, living the whole year in the palace, and sharing the divine company on their return. Each was responsible with entertaining the divine for two hours before their leave at the end of the truce. Some sang for the Sun, some danced, some indulged in the pleasures of the flesh, and other charmed them by their wit and laughter.


However, the Divine Sun’s most recent bride was different from any of the eleven others she shared the palace with. Pooran was a diamond in the rough, a mere street urchin found in the slums of the largest and filthiest city of the moral world. Her face was a natural work of art, with youthful, big innocent eyes, high cheekbones and a defined jawline leading to a gracile neck and nubile breasts. Her slender body was shapely and toned, effortlessly perfect in its proportions, carved by a hard life into a monument to mortal splendour. For the Divine Sun, she was unmatched, for she was as genuine and pure as the light itself, unaltered, unfiltered, unspoiled by vanity.


Now draped in the finest silks and wearing the godly gold, the young Pooran was living a waking dream, enjoying a life of leisure and luxury in the divine palace, while she grew used to hardship, misery, and hunger. Pampered by the avian shaped servants of the Sun, she tasted fruits so sweet she almost fainted, and dipped her gorgeous lips in mead and wine so delicious she wondered why one would ever touch water again. While the other brides were used to luxury, the palace life only providing them with a slightly more exquisite life than what they could obtain among the moral with their beauty and status, Pooran was almost overwhelmed by the sudden change of lifestyle, and found herself wanting to enjoy her new privileges to the fullest, to the point moderation and wisdom were quickly left out of the picture.


At first, her childlike enthusiasm charmed the other brides, who found her gleeful amazement adorable and endearing. Her fascination for all these new luxuries and delicacies was understandable, and all guessed she would simply need some time to get used to all this. Even when she began to appear softer and fuller, slowly losing the tone of her body to a thin layer of plush feminine flesh, the other wives didn’t worried much. After all, this suited Pooran well, and she could always train and exercise with them later on to return to her slim and lithe self before the truce day.


But weeks turned into months without the young beauty showing any sign of slowing down her hedonistic lifestyle, or even deigning to follow the wives in their daily training. While all the eleven of them would often run around the palace, dance, climb, swim, and compete among themselves in friendly challenges of athleticism, Pooran simply napped in the palace, enjoyed a third collation, or watched the others from afar, laying on a pile of cushions. After a life spent running and struggling to escape city guards, violent gangs, and angry merchants, the former street urchin was puzzled about why someone would strain so pointlessly. Sure, the brides were all stunning, with their lean slender bodies, toned stomach, firm and shapely curves, and thin muscles dancing under their perfectly smooth skin, but why worry so much about a little plushness?


Pooran was quite aware she had been gaining weight, but in her mind eyes, fat was synonym with prosperity and wealth, and was certainly not something that needed to be kept at bay with such fervour. Sure, her stomach was no longer flat, and it bounced lightly each time she walked a bit too fast, but her hips were fertile and soft, and her breasts were bigger and more voluptuous than any of the Sun Brides, even that Amazonian beauty how stood a whole head taller than the next tallest woman. She wasn’t ashamed by her change, even if she was slowly growing so plump and curvaceous her new clothes could have fitted twice her former left. If anything, this new heft made her feel powerful and self-assured, making her easier for her to adapt to this new amazing life in the heavens.
The other brides didn’t wanted to harass their newest member, but they were all getting very worried for the chubby beauty, for they knew that the Divine Sun despised fat and excess, whom were associated with the lowly realm of the earth gods, while the mighty entity was from the heaven, and the highest, most perfect of them all. They tried to persuade Pooran to at least try to use the last few months before the truce day to lose some weight and sculpt her curves into a more athletic form. After all, a large bottom and thick womanly thighs could pass it there were strong muscles hidden under the plush flesh. Sadly, Poorah rejected their advice. She didn’t want to experience privation ever again, even if it was self-imposed, and wouldn’t scale down the size or number of her feasts. However, she didn’t ignore their warning. If, indeed, she risked losing her privileges if she was caught so plump by the Divine Sun, she needed a plan to avoid their wrath and enjoy another year of decadence and pleasure in the palace.


The brides were surprised to see Pooran, at last, join them in their daily training. If she really wanted to lose the weight, it was sadly too little too late, for the Sun would join them by the next moon, and she was now the heaviest of them all, including the Amazon. Pooran didn’t even attempt to keep up with the brides, for she was slow, clumsy, and sluggish as she ran. Her enormous bosom would bounce ponderously in front on her, throwing off her balance and making her back sore after only a few minutes. Her belly would wobble endlessly; testing the fabric of her skirt, and making its seams creak in protest. Her thick womanly thighs would sway and rub at each step, hindering her speed and making the simple act of running quite difficult. Still, Pooran kept training at her own pace, testing her speed, evaluating her limits, and more importantly restoring some of her lost stamina. In fact, the training was so gentle that the gorgeous ex-thief keep gaining slowly during that month, but it didn’t bother her, for losing weight was never her goal. All she needed was a better knowledge of the palace layout, and a touch of endurance.


The end of Pooran’s first year in the palace was finally upon her, and the Divine Sun returned from their year of conflict across the sky, eager to reunite with their brides and rest in their company. When the godly being came back, the servants led the radiant deity to each of the bride, one by one. The Divine Sun danced, feasted, sang, and played, and at last, when it was time to meet the last and most recent of the chosen beauties, the avian servants announced what Pooran had planned to entertain the palace’s owner: for she was young of hearth and of spirit, and for she knew nothing but the sneaky life of a city thief, she challenged the Divine Sun to a game of hide and seek, a playful jest to amuse her serious host. It had been her ruse all along, for Pooran knew the Divine Sun would be awful at such a game, for their bright shining halo announced their every move, and she could run to her next hideout anytime she feared getting discovered. Furthermore, spending only one day a year in the palace, the Divine Sun remembered little of its layout. With her guile and cleverness, even an overfed, plump, and clumsy Pooran easily outplayed the shining Sun in this contest, only fearing to get caught by the end of the two hours, for she was getting so out of breath from sneaking across the palace that she feared she might get caught. It was a close call, but she was saved by the holy duty, for the Darkness returned upon the sky, and the Divine Sun went back to fight against it, leaving an exhausted Pooran behind for another year of indulgence, nearly caught, but free to stay until the next truce. As they flew in the sky, the Divine Sun was amused and even proud of whom they pictured at this clever and innocent bride that just made a fool of them, unaware of the deceit at play, and the bulging curves that now swallowed the memory they cherished.


Exalted by her victory, Pooran doubled down in her revelries as soon as the Divine Sun left them in the palace, ordering extra portions and spending days and nights eating with renewed desire, her hands exploring her stuffed belly and overflowing curves with fascination and amazement. She wanted to taste everything, to experience this paradise to the fullest, and she certainly did. The avian servants struggled to keep up with her demands, while the other wives watched in awe and horror as she quickly outgrew her clothes, as well as their memories of her former slender self.


Born in privilege, all the Sun Brides had seen a few plump princesses, gluttonous priestesses, or overfed matrons in their noble circles, but Pooran was quickly leaving any of those rotund damsels in the dust with her hedonistic ways. Her expanding figure was losing any sense of definition, with her overabundant flesh now forming rolls across her thickened midsection, her back, and over her waistline. Over the weeks, her stomach was folding on itself and began to rest on her lap, filling all the space it could take until there was no more left. Her breasts, formerly voluptuous and abundant, were now obscenely large, to the point they started to limit her movements, forcing Pooran to reach across their expanse when feasting, and often swallowing any plump fruit she dropped on her cavernous cleavage. Her bottom was no longer round, but wide and mushy, akin to overfilled cushions, and it lifted her higher, making her appear somehow taller when she was seated, which meant most of the time.


The Sun Brides knew she was doomed. As Pooran’s weight skyrocketed into obesity, as she began to compete with the plumpest of all mortals, there was no hope she could slim down to a shape acceptable to the Divine Sun in the time that was left before the day of truce. In fact, there was no hope she could get in shape for another round of hide and seek. More than three times the size of her thin past self, Pooran was more out of shape than ever, and her overflowing curves made sneaking impossible. Anytime she waddled across the palace, the overfed bride could be heard from the distance, for her thudding steps were echoing across the corridors, and so was the fleshly sound of her stomach bouncing against her upper thighs. If she ever attempted to jog, something that only happened when desert was announced, her enormous melons would join in the cacophony, slapping against the top roll of her overfed belly as she huffed and puffed toward her goal.


Pooran was quite in denial that she was no longer in shape to perform the same ruse as the year before. The days the other brides found her naivety charming were long gone, and the general sentiment went from pity to loathing toward this ravenous glutton that ate herself into obesity in the span of only two years. However, her fall into decadence gave an idea to the eldest bride, a stunning blonde priestess whom had been craving more attention from the Divine. She devised a plan to use Pooran to gain more time with the Sun divinity, under the guise of helping the fool in her futile game.


When the Divine Sun returned for the second day of truce, Pooran was led to the palace’s cellars, going down the small staircase under the guidance of the more mature bride. Squeezing her fleshy hips past the narrow doorway, the overfed young bride sat on a pile of cushion, hidden deep in the palace’s belly, and waited in the company of mead and wine. When at last the Divine Sun went for the expected game of hide and seek, the other bride, whom had dyed her hair and put on a veil, played the part of the younger Pooran, quickly getting caught on purpose by her deity. Feigning a genuine erotic game, she made the Divine Sun put on a blindfold, and had her way with the entity like she wanted, while Pooran slept in a drunken haze in the cellars, her rotund body taking most of the space. When the day was spent, the Sun Brides were once again left alone as their patron returned to their heavenly duel. Another year would pass until Pooran’s excesses would be at risk of being exposed.

 

Without surprise, none of these events triggered any change in Pooran’s lifestyle for her third year spent in the solar palace. By this time, the enormous bride was no longer only eating to sustain her culinary curiosity, but to keep her ravenous appetite at bay. After years of stuffing, she was properly insatiable, her stomach turned into an abyssal pit that growled in anger after a mere hour without food. Hunger made an ironic comeback in Pooran’s life, but now she could feel it by merely not being full enough. She spent more time feasting than ever, often being handled by avian servants, or occasionally another bride out of morbid curiosity. She seldom left her personal chambers, only getting up for short walks toward the baths or the feasting hall, and she no longer jogged to be the first to get to the dessert, for anything faster than a slow lumbering waddle was now impossible.


Pooran’s belly had grown even heavier since her time in the cellar, and it was now inching its way to her knees, while her buttocks were now so fat and well-padded she struggled to get up by her own power, so heavily anchored she was by their mass. Her breasts were beyond sanity, big enough to make an earth goddess blush from jealousy, and heavy enough that she struggled to lift one without using both hands. As the end of her third year neared, she surpassed mere obesity to turn into the fattest mortal in this time and age, an avatar of excess and opulence in world were hunger was assumed.


In that context, the other Sun Brides should have been wiser than to assume they could keep Pooran hidden, but they drank the tale of the last truce stratagem and for them, the obese young damsel represented one less competitor to share the Divine Sun’s attention with. They convinced themselves they could keep fooling their host year after year, reproducing the ruse used by their senior and getting more time with their master. Their duplicity wouldn’t go unpunished.


When the Divine Sun returned at last, after another year of endless combat, they wanted nothing more than to finally see the face of the young Pooran, the mysterious bride that became their favourite through her games and mysterious ways. Made impulsive by the long wait, turned restless after day dreaming of this reunion for months, the mighty entity ignored the protocol and asked to see Pooran right away, storming through the palace, majestic and terrible in their lust and love. The brides tried to distract them, for Pooran wasn’t yet hidden in the cellar, but there wasn’t much time left.
While six brides were luring the Divine on false paths and dead ends, the five others were helping Pooran escape her chambers and trying to get her to her hideout. The enormous Sun Bride was now so immensely fat she struggled to move at any descent pace, and she was half-dragged, half-carried by the six toned woman. It was an odd spectacle to say the least, to see the athletic and slender ladies pushing on her mushy bum, pulling on her ham sized arms, and supporting her enormous curves by armful to help her waddle faster. The contrast was intense, for the five women together were barely outweighing the humongous butterball that was the youngest of them all.


Huffing and puffing, and already menacing to reveal their position with her earth shaking steps, Pooran finally reached the staircase to the cellar, but as she was about to step into the passage, she was immediately stopped in her track as her thick love handles bit into the doorframe, far too plump to squeeze through. Confused, the five other brides watched as their blubbery comrade overflowed the narrow doorway, even her breasts slightly too big to fit in. One year prior, she managed to slip through, but she had grown enormously in these twelve months. Frantic, they tried to turn her sideways, to push her belly inside, to cram her inside with all the strength they could muster, but she was too fat, too deliciously obese to even get stuck in the doorway. She couldn’t even begin to fit through, and as she was shoved too harsh against the stone, she whimpered in pain, and soon, the Divine Sun dawned upon them, catching the group off guard as they stormed into the palace, solar flares appearing in the edge of their halo disappointment, wrath, and disgust.


The Divine Sun immediately understood the charade they had been served, and their anger was great, immense, in proportion with the offending ingrate they saw flaying powerlessly in their light, and the eleven snakes that lied to cover this infamy. Light turned to fiery rays, and with every scream, fire spread through the palace, turning drapes and furniture to ash and ambers, and melting stone and glass like butter. The wives ran, all of them, fleeing the devastation their all brought upon themselves. Toned legs and nimble bodies quickly reached the edges of the burning solar palace, where avian servants waited in anguish. Knowing it was the end, the winged creatures decided to flee with the damsels, judging the gorgeous brides undeserving of such an awful fate as to burn alive in a god’s anger. By pairs, the bird-like creature grabbed the women by the arms, and with a flutter of wings, hauled them into the sky, slowly bringing down to the surface of the earth to safety and rescue. The creatures were strong and disciplined, and they quickly saved the eleven women, but as Pooran busted from the burning palace, red faced and buried in quivering flesh, the pair the remained exchanged a worried glance. Huffing and puffing, the cow sized beauty lumbered through the courtyard, her pendulous gut slapping against her knees each time she tried to move faster. Her swaying breasts throwing her out of balance, she collapsed on hands and knees near the edge of the floating palace, her decadent stomach spreading under her body, so fat it hung low enough to rest heavily on the stone pavement.


Slowly, the solar paradise tipped, sending Pooran slipping into the sky below, unable to catch her fall with her fat laden limbs. With a scream of terror, she felt her obese form plummet through the emptiness, while the two avian servants dived to attempt to catch her fall. Talon like feet grasped her plump wrists, and the pair expended their wings to slow her fall and hopefully gain some lift. Sadly, what was enough to fly a slender damsel couldn’t suffice to carry a woman of Pooran’s girth, and no matter how much the avian creatures struggled, they couldn’t slow her fall, and with a sad cry of powerlessness, they let her go, falling through the sky toward the arid expanse of a desert.


As the beautiful and enormous girl fell to her doom, her fear and despair attracted the attention of many gods, whom couldn’t help but feel ashamed by the Sun’s outburst. The first to come to Pooran’s aid was the Great Wind, whom unleashed their mightiest upward gust in an attempt to save the decadent mortal, whose only crime had been to enjoy life too fully. Sadly, even the strongest wing was too weak to fight the results of Pooran’s three years of revelries, and the sky god backed away, saddened.


The second god to come to Pooran’s aid was the Gentle Rain, whom clouds were of velvet softness. They attempted to weave a cushion of cloud under the girl’s rotund form, but she busted trough like an arrow through soft clay, her overfed body too plump and heavy for such a diaphanous mattress. The Rain was surprised, for they often welcomed mortal on cloudy beds, not unlike the solar palace. Yet, this poor girl was simply too heavy for the fragile sky cloth.


At least, as her fall drew nearer to the earth, Pooran caught the eye of the Desert God, cursed by the Divine Sun into an arid land unkind to all life. For aeons, the Desert languished the curves and folds adorning the bodies of their kin from fertile lands. They were earth gods, yet the Desert was no more fertile than the sky above. The cursed god saw in Pooran’s body their dreams come true. Her body was a topography of dunes, valleys, hills, and canyons, like an homage composed to the Desert’s glory. She brought with her lifetimes of bounty; so much abundance couldn’t be gathered in the arid sands, even in centuries. She was a blessing, and the Desert God wasn’t going to let her plummet to her death. With a loving hand, the land itself reached for the sky, gigantic fingers and a titanic arm forming a gentle slope of silk-like sand. Pooran landed on the opened palm, and slowly rolled down the divine arm, until her fall was caught, softly, gently, into a bath of sand.


It is said that Pooran cried of relief once she realized that she made it alive from the solar palace, and that her tears filled the depression formed by her landing, creating the first of all the oasis. The former Sun Bride was then embraced by the Desert God as their sole spouse, and her abundance lifted the curse cast by the Divine Sun, bringing life again in the dunes, and especially in the islands of plenty that were the oasis. To these days, Pooran is no longer known by her mortal name, but instead as the Fruitful Oasis, a fertility goddess worshipped by any traveller fearing the Sun’s wrath.

 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

lord farquaad shrek GIF
It has that fairy tale vibe to it! I think this is the first story I’ve read with no dialogue in it in a looonnnng time, but that’s how fairy tales are told. As for a moral of the story... 🤔 tell secrets quick for in time they grow thick. Tell your date before it’s too late.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

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

Create an account

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

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now

×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

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