The Sorceress' Stress Snacking

[Batman76]

A story I'd been planning, its first chapter was moved up in my schedule due to @ES-Draws great sketches.

The Sorceress’ Stress Snacking

 

Chapter 1: White Orchard

 

Geralt stepped out of the White Orchard Inn and into the night in a foul mood.

 

Three days full of far more violence than the grey haired witcher preferred had passed since he’d arrived in the Temerian village in search of his lost love Yennefer. He’d chased rumors of the elusive sorceress, who despite her famed and unique looks was impossible to track down, across the war ravaged landscape. Nekkers, drowners, ghouls, wolves, dogs and bandits had died by his sword, before he’d ultimately found a lead from the local Nilfgardian garrison, at the price of slaying a dangerous griffon. His reward had been to find that Yennefer was at the Nilfgardian court in conquered Vizima, less than a day’s ride away.

 

And then he’d had to kill an inn full of idiotic thugs after collecting his mentor, the elderly Vesimir. 

 

“Ugh, getting involved never turns out well,” Geralt grunted, wiping off his steel sword and sheathing it.

 

“No, but you never learn, do you? Might not want to put that away yet,” Vesimir agreed, “hooves and armor are coming, we should go.”

 

The two witcher’s sharp ears heard the rattle of armor and the clomp of hooves, war horses and cavalry. No matter which side in the great northern war the horsemen belonged too, the pair of witchers were covered in blood and there were half a dozen dead men behind them. In Geralt’s experience, that was difficult to explain. But just as he reached his trusty horse Roach, the wandering monster hunter paused.

 

Because his enhance scent had just picked up, over the smell of horse sweat and armor polish, the faint perfume of lilac and goose berries.

 

“Hold on, I think our mission just solved itself,” Geralt rasped, watching the squad of cavalry come out of the night.

 

There were several Nilfgardian troopers in their traditional black and gold plate, but Geralt barely noticed them. For as they dismounted, a small framed woman in their midst, dwarfed by the size of a borrowed destrier, stepped down onto a high heeled boot. The Witcher had seen many a stunning sight in his day, from the burning palaces of kings to the angry roars of a dragon at close range, but nothing would ever give him as much pause as seeing Yennefer of Vengerburg.

 

The smell of her perfume was strong, its rich scent striking in the muddy village. In the moon light the ivory skin of her smooth face seemed to glow, her black curls catching the stars. She was dressed in a black gown, cut low to show cleavage and slit to show thigh high boots, high heeled to make up for her short height. 

 

“Geralt, covered in blood and running out of town. I see not much has changed,” Yennefer said coyly, her incredibly posh and melodious voice dripping with sarcasm.

 

“And I see not much has changed with you,” Geralt said, suddenly noticing as she stepped up that things very much had.

 

For one thing, the Nordling sorceress was working with the Nilfgardian Empire despite having been instrumental in defeating it in the first Northern War. For another and well, even Geralt with his superhuman eye for detail didn’t quite believe it at first. But a glance confirmed it, despite his disbelief.

 

Yennefer had gained a good fifteen pounds.

 

The chances of this were bafflingly low. Yennefer was brave, resourceful, curious, determined and caring but she was also immensely vain, she began every day with an hour of carefully applied makeup to her already beautiful face. She dressed stylishly and paid very careful attention to her appearance, her perfect looks an advertisement for her powers. But Geralt couldn’t deny the evidence of his eyes, having known every inch of her body he gave her another glance from ankles on up.

 

Most of Yen’s legs were blocked by her tightly buckled black boots, but her right thigh was easy to see. Geralt remembered a wide gap between the raven beauty’s thighs, but now a thin, but soft layer of fat coated her upper leg, ivory flesh poking through the lace of her tights. They weren’t big, most noble women who’d had a baby would have killed to have thighs so slim, but now there was a pinchable bit of excess across her legs. 

 

Going up, Geralt was struck by the breadth of the brunette’s hips. Yennefer’s looks had been girlish in the extreme, despite being a hundred years old she didn’t look a day over twenty, but she’d always been just slightly pear shaped, her butt large and round and her hips quite round, if rather firm. Now looking at her, Geralt could see how she’d gotten wider, the curve of her hip stretching the seam of her skirt tight.

 

Yennefer’s waist wasn’t much changed from its old tiny 20 inch span...but that was because the sorceress was wearing a corset. The underbust girdle was laced very tightly, obviously pushing hard against something quite soft on the inside. Corsets weren’t uncommon for rich women, exercise was seen as manish and undignified, but as a sorceress Yennefer’s body was a plaything of her powers, letting her keep an absolutely tiny waistline that she was quite proud of. That she was now wearing the restrictive shapewear spoke to a rather drastic change.

 

Continuing up, Geralt was very surprised by the change to Yennefer’s chest. The sorceress had a physique suitable B cup before, quite pert and perky but rather small, as well as a disdain for women with large busts, thinking that any breast bigger than a handful was  a sign of low class crudeness. That too had changed, the sorceress finding at least a cup size of soft tit. They seemed even larger thanks to the under bust corset, the brunette flashing cleavage for the first time.

 

“Are you done staring yet, Geralt?” flashed into the witcher’s brain.

 

Slightly startled, he looked up from his telepathic ex-lover’s breast to her face. Yennefer put on enchanted glamour makeup first thing every morning and touched it up several times per day, meaning that she looked impossibly gorgeous without a single mark, scar or bulge. But Geralt could slightly detect a softness to her sharp cheekbones, making her look less imperial and regal and more...approachable.

 

“Hard not too when you look that good,” the Witcher returned mentally, knowing that the rather boundary challenged brunette frequently read his thoughts.

 

Her eyes widened in surprise, a slight redness rising to her cheeks. That was odd, Yennefer lived for compliments and it shouldn’t surprise her to be praised.

 

“I...you are too kind, but we should be going,” Yennefer said, ending the mental link and returning to her horse, “come, the Emperor himself wishes to speak to you.”

 

Yennefer strode up to her destrier, an immense gray warhorse that towered over the small woman. It snorted softly, whinnying in affection as she got to the stirrup and put her small, booted foot in. Geralt’s sharp eyes saw the faint jiggle in her thigh as she stood up and swung her leg over the saddle. And how she checked the fit of her corset upon sitting, tugging the tight leather and whale bone down.

 

                    ….

A few hours separated the pair’s next meeting, along with a chase by the ghostly riders of the wild hunt and a meeting with the powerful Emperor of Nilfgaard. 

 

“You’ve been informed by the Emperor?” Yennefer asked Geralt as he walked into her chambers at the Vizima palace.

 

He was in a tight set of black hose and dublet, Nilfgardian court fashion. It showed off his muscles well and Yennefer felt herself getting moist at the sight. A hundred years old she might be, but the sorceress had the libido of her maiden’s body and hadn’t had sex in months. His lean muscles, his dangerous scars, his growling voice, the glowing predator’s eyes, all of it was combining to make her wet as a bride on her wedding day. Yennefer needed her brains fucked out desperately by him, all the old emotions of him caring for her swirling back. But she pushed the urge down, still feeling angry and bitter over the knowledge he’d slept with Triss...and terrified to be seen without her corset. A pang of bitter anger hit her stomach and Yennefer soothed it, hand darting to a small box on her desk and drawing out a succulent chocolate cookie.

 

“Yes, Ciri’s is both  alive back in our world,” the Witcher said with a shake of his head, “I can barely believe it. Why would she return?”

 

“We don’t know, but if she’s here, well...she’s my daughter Geralt, not in blood but in everything that matters,” Yennefer told him, “and I *munch* am going to do everything I can to help her.”

 

“Of course, she’s my daughter too in all that counts. But Yenn...are you alright? You’re not acting like yourself,” Geralt asked.

 

Yennefer felt her cheeks color, to her shame. She had the urge to read his mind, but was certain she already knew what he was thinking. He was surely examining the damage done to her body by months of over eating, comparing the lardy she-walrus with the slender, nymph-like woman he’d once loved. Gods she’d gotten fat, every ounce of this wobbling jiggle disgusted her with every moment. She’d had to change and bathe after the flight from the wild hunt due to how sweaty she’d gotten and every moment had been agony, touching her newly soft and jiggling belly…

 

“I’m fine, truly. Just a bit *munch* distracted,” Yennefer said, swallowing a cookie, not thinking about what number it was, “Ciri has me worried is all…”

 

Unfortunately her corset had been damaged in the flight, an errant branch ripping a panel. Yennefer hadn’t had her mending cantrip prepared that day either and had stubbornly refused to buy more, denying that she truly needed it. So she was forced to speak to Geralt without its constraining effect, to her shame.

 

The sorceress had changed into a long black gown with white pinstripes, her favorite colors. Unfortunately the Yennefer it had been stitched for was quite a bit bigger, making it snug as a glove. Pinstripes were supposed to lead the eye up to pert breasts or down to girlish hips, the snug and low cut gown showing both off quite well. Unfortunately the dress was cut for her old tiny, 20 inch waist and while it could fit her fuller one, she’d had to suck her stomach in to get it laced up. Even fully laced, the new roundness at her belly was quite plain to see through the thin fabric. She had it sucked it and it still wasn’t completely flat! Gods, it was disgusting, soft as her breasts and somehow bouncier. 

 

Worse, this was one of her looser dresses. Yennefer had to confront the fact that she’d have to secure newer, larger clothes if she wasn’t able to get this problem in hand and soon...yet more reasons to find Ciri!

 

“She gave me a great gift, love for a daughter, that I’d thought I’d never have,” Yennefer finished, eating another cookie to cover her horrific embarrassment at looking like such a pig, “but we’ve got some evidence for her location, come…”

 

Together they looked over evidence of Ciri’s reappearances in the neutral city of Novigrad, the war torn land of Velen and the Skellige Isles. Always their adopted daughter, a tall green eyed lass with ashen hair, appeared in a flash of light pursued by ghostly horsemen. Geralt stood quite close to Yennefer, who’s face began to redden. Despite her anger, despite her shame, she was still very, very attracted to him. Her pale face began to flush, while her enlarged nipples hardened, beginning to poke through the thin fabric. While she didn’t mind the extra bust size, the way they showed off her arousal annoyed her deeply, making her feel like her sexuality was out of control.

 

The Sorceress went to eat another cookie to cover her arousal, focusing on the oncoming sugar and spice instead, only to find she’d run out of them. Nimble fingers flickered inside the tin, only to accidentally knock it to the ground! Her eyes widened in shock and shame, the sorceress forget her telekinesis and lurched for the tin only to be stopped by a loud, undeniable rip from her midsection. Yennefer froze solid, as if she’d been caught by the White Frost itself, barely noticing Geralt swiftly snatching the tin out of mid air.

 

“Careful there, its a nice tin. Enchanted to make more sweets, right?” the gruff Witcher asked, “I recognized it from when you were tutoring Ciri…”

 

Yennefer gulped, words failing her for once. He was going to say something terrible to her and the only way to stop it was by admitting it.

 

“I...let’s deal with the elephant in the room, yes?” Yennefer asked calmly, “You can go on and say it, I already know.”

 

“...Say what Yen?” he asked her, eyebrow arched.

 

She glared, a petulant gesture but one she couldn’t stop.

 

“I’m fat, Geralt,” she seethed, poking her side.

 

Her dress had ripped vertically, a pinstripe coming apart to reveal a bulge of soft white flesh.

 

“I’ve put on a full stone and its made of pure lard. I’m hideous, the size of a bridge troll,” the angry mage seethed, breathing in deep for a diatribe, “so don’t go pussy footing around and thinking you can hide your disgust over my slovenly, flabby form behind your stoic facade. I’m certain you are ready to run off to that ginger floozy with her flat stomach and hard thighs and I...mmmmmm.”

 

Geralt surprised her, leaning in quick as a cat and kissing her. Witcher’s were mutants, suffused with magic and their skin hummed to a mage, to Yennefer the kiss brought a full body tingle that relaxed her tensed muscles and deflated her ire.

 

“Yen, you look good,” the witcher told her as she broke away.

 

“I...you’re lying, you must be,” she insisted, words stammering, “I’m a wreck, a freak and I… Oh.”

 

She’d reached out to touch his mind, to prove she was lying. And all she’d gotten was an image of him taking her from behind, fingers digging deep into her softer hips. Again, her pale cheeks flushed, this time in lust.

 

“I suppose you aren’t lying,” she admitted, with girlish bashfulness, “still though, an explanation is in order.”

 

“I’m not going to lie and say I’m not surprised, this is the last thing I’d expect to happen to you. Are you cursed?” he told her, “its hard to tell given the amount of enchanted items you carry…but you working for Nilfgard, is the Emperor cursing you?

 

“Partly. I...didn’t quite have an option. Unlike you, I teleported into the south without a memory. I was found by the Nilfgardian intelligence service and kept at a chateau until they restored me,” Yennefer said, leaving out the immense and delicious amount of food she’d been plyed with during her stay to keep her docile, “and I...had to swear an oath on my power to work with the Emperor for Ciri’s sake. And for further insurance, I had to submit to a leash…”

 

“A leash?” Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

Yennefer didn’t need telepathy to know what he was thinking, she herself instantly thought of her softened body, totally bare and wearing a dog’s leash…

 

 “Not like that, but yes. A leash, you were probably too busy staring at my breasts but I’ve got a new choker.”

 

She tapped the silver pentagram she wore, its metal gleaming and new.

 

“I can’t cast any sort of beauty spell on myself. Nilfgaard kept its sorceress’ plain and ugly to keep them under control. I’m able to manage my nails and my hair and skin but...weight is a different issue,” Yennefer sighed, tapping the soft fat roll spilling through her ruined dress, “especially as I…well because I eat a bit much. It’s extra motivation to find Ciri quickly, as I grow uglier and uglier…”

 

Born a poor farm girl, despised for many deformities, Yenn had developed a sweet tooth upon her first access to deserts during her training as part of the beautiful elite. And when she got stressed, she dealt with stress by eating. Normally a weight loss spell every few weeks kept her belly suitably flat but now that she couldn’t...and Geralt had put his arms around her shoulders.

 

“Yennefer, some fat isn’t going to make you ugly,” Geralt told her solemnly, “if anything, it suits you.”

 

Yennefer froze, face going beat red as a virgin on her wedding night. That someone could like this...this blubber stupefied her. Yet he wasn’t lying, she could tell that...Gods why must this happen to her? Now? She’d been angry with him over sleeping with her friend, angry with her friend, angry increasingly at herself...ugh, if only she were thinner, she’d take him here and now…

 

Her fingers absentmindly searched the insides of the cookie tin, finding with glee that the tin had had enough time to make another treat.

 

“But anyway, that’s not important. We’re going to find Ciri and get her safe,” she gulped, stepping away quickly and popping more food into her mouth, “there’s three places she might be, Velen, Skellige and Novigrad. I suggest you start in Velen, I’m going to try *munch* Novigrad and we should meet there…”

 

Yennefer stepped away quickly, not quite trusting herself. Because what she hadn’t mentioned was that an old friend of hers was in the free city of Novigrad, someone she needed to have very cross words with...but first, Yennefer needed to figure out if she was angrier at Geralt or Triss for the cheating...and which one she wanted to have sex with the most...

 

[Batman76]

1 hour ago, >_< 0_0 said:

The lore in this is spot-on. I loved the references to the books interlaced with the first few hours of Witcher 3 gameplay. I could even hear Vesimir’s tutorial accent and he only had, like, one line 😆

Got money on Triss trying to fatten Yennefer more out of jealousy.

Wait, how did you know that. Did you hack me!? 

 

24 minutes ago, Arimnestos said:

I love every piece of witcher writing you produce. The way you present the characters is perfect and you're descriptions are mind-blowing

Why thank you, I spend too much time thinking of them.

[Batman76]

Hold on, copy paste error.

[Batman76]

Chapter 2: Novigrad

 

“Hold there girl, what’s a young thing like you doing out so early?,” a city guard sergeant said, his sour breath wafting from between his yellow teeth, his lantern held up to show a pock marked face, “Hold on, you look familiar…”

 

Yennfer took a deep breath of foggy pre-dawn air before speaking, “Really?”

 

The sorceress gave a small, annoyed sigh as the guard patrol looked her over. Once, a woman of her wealth and rank would have had the city watch bowing before her. If not for the vast wealth Yennefer possessed, equal to at least a Baroness, than for her ability to kill an entire infantry company with a snap of her fingers. 

 

But things changed.

 

“Yeah you look sort of like,” the guard leered, holding up a lantern, “A s-”

 

Yennefer could have splattered the man’s brains across the damp city street, but that would have left another six spearmen to deal with. She could have killed all of them too, but then there would be hiding the bodies and dealing with anyone who had overheard their deaths. Ugh, anarchy was so annoying.

 

So Yennefer simply made the man’s brain segue into a state of extreme gullibility.

 

“A saintly young matron, about her innocent business,” Yennefer finished for the sergeant, who simply nodded and let her pass by.

 

The short brunette stalked on, her high heels clicking on slick pavers. She’d been in the city of Novigrad for almost a whole week, endless hours of fruitless searching for her daughter Ciri. Occasional rumors of an ashen haired woman had sprung up, but nothing concrete and Yennefer didn’t even haven any leads because she couldn’t find Triss either! The only thing she’d learned was that the Cult of the Eternal Fire, long an annoying and intolerant force in Northern Politics, had launched a soft coup of the city. At the goading of the insane King of Redania, every mage in the city was being hunted down and arrested. Wizards were being given the choice, at knife point, to work for the King, but any sorceress was being put to torture and the stake immediately. 

 

Trying to find Ciri in this chaos was like trying to find a needle in a burning haystack. As was finding her friend Triss…

 

“Damn it, Merigold, where the hell are you?” the sorceress asked herself, passing by a wanted poster of the other sorceress’ refined features.

 

Magic made finding anyone difficult. Yennefer herself was disguised with an illusion that made anyone who saw her see a plain young woman with brown hair and a plump figure, wearing the semi-expensive clothes of a merchant’s wife. Not one of the fairest women in the world with long mane of startling raven curls, purple eyes in a perfect face and a very small and well disguised weight gain. It was a common disguise for magic users on the run, but given that her current target Triss was also a sorceress, a problem too.

 

“I could be, *munch* half a pace from her and not see her,” Yennefer sighed, idly munching on a cookie from her the endless supply of her belt pouch.

 

Seven days of false leads and no success had made the Sorceress anxious which made her hungry. Her hand had been constantly moving from her belt to her mouth, an endless pilgrimage delivering faithful sweets to the cathedral of her pearly teeth. Her stomach was on the verge of uncomfortably full, where it had been since she’d entered the city gates, pressing tight against her new corset. Yennefer had upgraded her wardrobe since her little embarrassment in front of Geralt, necessary as she now weighed 127lbs instead of a mere 110…or had weighed that upon leaving Vizima. Thoughts of how her new clothes were just as snug as her old ones had been were immediately dismissed, it wasn’t like she could have gotten...fatter. Being a little plump was bad enough, but the signs of a worse condition were there.

 

Yennefer had been eating quite heavily at the inns she'd been staying at, the meeting with Geralt had made her both horny and extra antsy and she was covering both with food. While she'd been walking a bit, she'd been eating even more, the bit of exercise only serving to increase her appetite. She'd been avoiding looking at herself naked if she could help it, but the vain sorceress was feeling all the tell tale signs of growing larger.

 

Her face felt puffy, the cheeks jiggling when she chewed or spoke and when she looked anything but straight ahead, there was a ...fold under her chin. Whenever she put on makeup she saw less cheekbone and jawline than she had before, her face rounding out. The rest of her body was increasing as well: her thighs were rubbing whenever she walked and her belly was bulging out past her breasts when released from her corset. Her rear end had begun to devour all of her underwear to an uncomfortable degree and the swell of her bust and belly were blocking her feet from view. Despite the illusions she wore and the corsetry she now wouldn't be seen without, Yennefer wasn't taking the latest part of the gain well.

 

The sorceress felt like a pregnant bear wearing a circus tent. Yennefer was well aware that she wasn’t that fat, but she was certainly no longer thin. Gods, she might even be called...plump. Each time she inhaled, she could feel her larger breasts heave against her dress and every time she exhaled she could feel her stomach press against her corset, begging for release. Just as every step brought her thighs rubbing together and her butt shaking, her rear end having developed a seeming mind of its own! She'd yet to measure, but Yennefer was fairly certain her hips were now wider than her shoulders, a very worrying sign indeed.

 

She felt like a pregnant bear wearing a circus tent. Yennefer was well aware that she wasn’t that fat, but to be so different than her normal perfection made her feel righteous rage with every breath. Each time she inhaled, she could feel her larger breasts heave against her dress and every time she exhaled she could feel her stomach press against her belt.

 

“I need to get this under control...and to find Triss,” the sorceress sighed, her cloak swishing through a trendy neighborhood.

 

Her friend and rival had lived here, Triss’ wealth as an advisor to King Foltest of Temeria letting her buy a decent mansion in the rich district. Unfortunately that hadn’t been enough to fend off the witch hunters when the attack had come, most of the house a burned out wreck. Yennefer opened her second sight, seeing where Triss had let loose with fire balls to cover her escape and where she hadn’t been able too. The witch hunters had had a cache of magic blocking, dimeretium bombs at hand, she could feel the nullified areas where they’d gone off, still blocked to magic.

 

“Most inconsiderate and annoying,” the sorceress sighed, checking no one was watching and approaching the wall around the manor.

 

The gate was padlocked and the wall was only six feet high, but most of the perimeter was still blocked to magic weeks after the bomb had gone off. Yennefer managed to hop up and catch the edge of the wall with her gloved hands, boots scrambling at the brick work. She pulled up with all her might, but the sorceress was a dainty woman, fine boned and svelte...or had been svelte. Being stuck in the court of the Nilfgardian emperor hadn’t done her muscle tone any favor and her snug corset limited her flexibility. Even without an extra near twenty pounds she’d have found the leap hard, but with it well…

 

*RIP*

 

“No,” Yennefer said as she lay across the top of the wall, feeling the cool air of the spring night touch her bum.

 

Her pants. She’d ripped her pants in half at the ass and now her cheeks were hanging in the breeze!

 

“You hear that?” a voice thick with a street accent demanded from beneath her.

 

“Hear what, ya tosser?” another asked.

 

Yennefer looked down, seeing two mangy looking men with a sack on the inside of the wall. Her eyebrow raised up quizicly, that sack looked heavy and she had a guess it contained some of Triss possessions that the Witch Hunters had missed. Silently, she tucked her legs and cloak under herself and hopped down from the wall.

 

“Hear a very perturbed woman wondering where you got that,” the slightly out of breath sorceress asked.

 

One of the men squawked in alarm, swinging the heavy bag of loot at her head. Yennefer might not have been able to do a single pull up but her reflexes were fast, she ducked beneath the swing and felt it woosh by overhead...just as she felt her pants rip further. Knowing that she was still in the residual anti-magic field, the brunette didn’t even bother with a spell. Instead she pulled out the rondel dagger she wore on her belt, a foot of spiked steel made to pierce a knight’s helmet and rammed its testicle shaped pommel into her attacker’s balls.

 

“I used to do that on annoying farm boys as a girl, I’m surprised it still works,” Yen smiled, rewarding herself with a cookie and not even thinking of the correlation between the treat in her mouth and the split in her pants.

“What do you want?” the other man squawked in fear, eying the razor sharp knife in Yennefer’s hand, “we’re just honest thieves! We pay our dues to the Big Four bosses like everyone else!”

 

“What I *munch* want? I’ll tell you what I want, I want you to drop the bag before I start slicing off parts you don’t really need,” Yennefer threatened, stepping from the anti-magic field and casting a small illusion, making her 5’1 height look like seven feet, “spill the bag and back away, after I take what I need you can have the rest.”

 

The bag was promptly dumped out on the ground, the thieves backing away. Yennefer bent, feeling her belly pinch against her corset, and sorted through the objects. A small bag of coins, some candle sticks, nothing personal that Triss would have frequently touched until...

 

“Aha,” Yennefer smiled, finding a small ring studded with an emerald, “Triss’ nipple ring. Shame that she left it, but not for me...”

 

Leaving the thieves to their devices, the sorceress was soon moving. Once alone, she cast a  spell upon the ring, scrying out the location of its owner. Triss had a very full bust, one that needed support and the gravity weakening affect of the ring kept the E cup redhead looking pert. A small arrow appeared in Yennefer’s vision, pointing her on towards Triss’ location.

 

“Ah, she’s to the east, out of the city walls. Smart girl,” Yennefer smiled, as an errant gust of wind lifted her cloak.

 

It was spring still and chill, the frigid touch raising goose pimples across the ivory skin of her backside. Yennefer’s triumphant smile faded at the reminder of her humiliating weight gain, fading immediately into a frown. She pulled her glove off of her hand, pulling her cloak down and putting her fingers to her butt.

 

“Was it always that big...or that soft,” Yennefer thought to herself, barely resisting an urge to pinch it, “ugh, I’m going to lose every ounce damn it, every ounce!”

 

Another small spell was cast, the split cheeks of her pants knitting back together on their own accord. Yennefer felt the pinch though, the fabric squeezing her soft tummy tight, a tiny roll of soft white fat poofing over her waistband.

 

‘This is...intolerable!” she seethed, walking carefully towards where her scrying spell guided.

 

…..

 

Two hours later, a foot sore Yennefer squatted in a set of decorative bushes.

 

She was sweaty and tired, her hair plastered to her forehead. Her thighs hurt and her breath was still coming faster than normal, her time of indolence at the Nilfgardian court having seriously sapped her stamina. She had, out of purely temporary convenience of course, taken off her restraining corset, undone her belt and the top buttons on her pants to stop them from pinching so. A red mark across her soft stomach, which bulged outwards to an alarming degree.

 

Had a mirror been available, Yennefer would have realized she looked quite pregnant. Her belly was a heavy dome that stuck out past her breasts, something that had never happened before. While turgid with far too many sweets, the tummy was alarmingly soft, testament to the pounds piling up around her mid section. Yennefer had a hand unconsciously massaging it, fingers pinching and fondling the thickening layer of fat while she spied out her target.

 

Across from her was a large, palatial estate. The mansion of a Viscountess at least, surrounded by manicured lawns, a hedge maze and pools. It worried Yennefer to see it, because the mansion was far from Novigrad’s walls and yet Triss was certainly there. The other sorceress would have teleported away if she’d gotten so far from the city, Yennefer was sure, so for her to be still within the Eternal Fire’s reach, she must have been held against her will. 

 

“She better be being held captive by a thousand fucking witch hunters,” Yennefer huffed, setting her shoulder bag down on the forest floor beside her.

 

She rummaged in it, the enchanted bag holding a small house’ worth of possessions and pulled out a well made telescope. She plied it across the estate, falling to see any guards beyond some liveried footmen at the main gates. A puzzled frown crossed Yennefer’s face at the lack of security.

 

“This doesn’t seem to be any sort of prison, so why is she hiding out here…,” Yennefer muttered to herself, “Triss why aren’t you burning down half the city you...you fucking trollop!”

 

A hiss escaped her soft pink lips as her scope settled on the other sorceress, Triss Merigold in the self. Wearing a soft, fluffy green robe, Triss was leaving a small side door of the mansion and approaching one of the long fountain pools as if she was on a vacation. Yennefer glared, thinking of some very real curse to use, only to be interrupted by Triss beginning to undo her robe.

 

“I should...go see her,” Yennefer stammered to herself, watching Triss begin to undress, “I shouldn’t spy…”

 

The brunette had had a long list of lovers, mostly male but with a fair number of other women as well. And she’d bathed bare with Triss in bath houses as well, so it wasn’t as if she was some blushing virgin. But the tender scene made her mouth dry and her puss damp, her eye locked upon the other sorceress’ sunkissed body.

 

Triss was Yennefer’s polar opposite. Sunkissed, freckled and tan while Yen was white as snow, tall where Yennefer was short, athletically muscular while Yen was skinny, busty while Yennefer was small chested. But as the green robe hit the ground to reveal Triss’ whole body, Yennefer’s gave a sharp intake of breath.

 

“Gods and ghosts, she got fat!” Yennefer giggled to herself, unthinkingly eating yet another cookie, “she’s practically rolly polly!”

 

An exaggeration but not too much of one. Like Yennefer herself, Triss’ perfect, magically made physique was now bearing a bit of excess softness. The ginger’s taut abdominals were bulging outwards, softened by sloth and gluttony into the start of a little ** belly. When Triss stepped into the pool, small rolls formed across her stomach, not a hint of muscle to be seen. Her thigh gap had filled in too, her runner’s legs having lost their tone and turned chubby. 

 

“Looks like you should have kept a better eye on those nipple rings, Triss,” Yennefer giggled to herself, pulling yet another cookie from her belt pouch, “you’re starting to sag!”

 

Triss had always been busty, but the fat she’d gained had made her prime assets grow considerably. Enough that her big tear drops were looking a bit floppy, her shoulders curling inwards and the heavy breasts plunging towards her rounded stomach. Despite her centenarian age, Yennefer couldn’t help but feel some girlish glee. Triss was one of her, if not her best friend and the redhead sleeping with her all but husband hurt, a sting she was reminded of every day. To see the fit ginger looking padded and plump sent a thrill through Yennefer’s very soul, spiteful as it was.

 

“Ha, if Geralt could see her now he’d, well...he wasn’t lying when he said I looked good with,” Yennefer trailed off, not wanting to mention her own weigh gain, even if Geralt liking it had soothed her spirits.

 

Looking over at Triss, who was starting to swim in the long pool, Yennefer had to guess that her Witcher lover would like Triss at this size too. She did look good, soft and plump and exquisite to the touch, if different, Yennefer had to admit. She had to bet that Triss would jiggle now if she prodded her, why she’d probably vibrate if say, she were orgasming...

 

A small prod at her belly made the sorceress look down, seeing her own hand sliding into her very snug pants. The sorceress realized she was breathing heavily, face flush and nipples clear to see through her blouse. Swallowing, she stood up and collapsed her scope.

 

“Ugh, I need to have sex before I go mad,” Yennefer admitted to herself, “although perhaps it’s too late. Seriously, touching myself to the thought of Triss gaining weight, what is wrong with me?My daughter is still missing and the world is at war, I need to focus.”

 

She went to walk towards the estate, before realizing her pants were still undone. The brunette enchantress went to snap them shut, only to find that the button was not going to close. She tugged once more and gingerly looked down only to find it blocked by an extremely bloated belly, pale skin turgid to the touch. The cookie box on her belt had its lid open, every crumb of its enchanted interior picked clean.

 

“I could have sworn that box was full when I kneeled down,” the bloated mage muttered to herself, “Perhaps it’s not a good idea to carry it where I can access it so easily…and maybe I should change into something looser and put the corset back on. I don’t want Triss to think I’ve gone soft…”

 

…..

 

Triss Merigold burst from the water, droplets cascading off of her, as if she was a mermaid in a sailor’s dream.

 

The tall, red haired mage took a deep breath, her lungs complaining of the exertion and demanding she rest. Ignoring her bodies demand, Triss kicked off the stone wall of the decorative pool and swam on. Keeping up the exercise wasn’t pleasant, every muscle from her calves to her wrists was aching for more air, but the motion reminded the famously fair sorceress why she should keep going.

 

Every kick of her long thighs made the thickened stems rub together and made her increased butt jiggle. As she slowly exhaled during her swim, her stomach bulged outwards. When she swung her arms, her now heavy bust wobbled in a way that seemed almost insulting.

 

“The wobbling is enough to make me want to keep going, but why is it never enough to make me skip dessert?” the sorceress demanded of herself, keeping her pace as well as she could.

 

For what seemed a long while, Triss swam laps. But even a sorceress’ will power wasn’t enough to forever fight against an out of shape body and Triss had to at last grab onto the pool’s edge. She rested there, letting her body float and head lay upon the marble edge and cursing herself. 

 

Triss had let herself get full on fat. Her thighs touched, her belly bulged, her breasts had gone floppy, even her face was sprouting a double chin. It was her own fault of course but also not. It had been predictably foolish for her to throw endless pies, cakes and sweets into the bottomless pit of rejection and grief. She’d known damn well that she was putting on weight, feeling folds where before there’d been nothing, the tightening of clothes and the extra jiggles when she moved. But she’d told herself she’d prepare a weight loss amulet soon enough, just after whatever snack she was preparing and then, after losing her enchanting gear in the flight from her own home, why she’d kept eating. Until she’d popped the button of a borrowed garment from a woman she thought of as plump the night before and realized that a serious change needed to be made. She was a sorceress, a full sixty years old despite her maiden’s figure, and should have known better than to not only moon after a man but to do so via overeating!

 

But how could she not? Triss considered her lover, ex-lover?, Geralt. Not just the lean muscle and sharp features, but the core of kindness under the cynicism, the predator's grace turned to goodness. Gods she was an idiot falling in love with him, especially when there’d always been a chance Yennefer could return. A single letter had been enough to pull him from Triss’ side, leaving the sorceress alone with several excellent bakeries to drown her grief as he ran off to Yennefer.

 

 Yennefer, her best friend, the delicate flower concealing a storm, the woman who drew eyes and hearts like a lodestone drew iron filings. Yennefer with her tiny waist and taut butt and narrow thighs, girlish and perfect with those oh so kissable lips. The lips that Triss, on a tipsy midwinter’s evening, had once planted a kiss on…

 

“I see you’re pushing yourself hard recently,” Yennefer’s voice asked unexpectedly.

 

Merigold startled up, standing in chest deep water to see her friend and rival sitting prettily upon a ledge.

 

“Y-Yennefer!” Triss stammered, water dripping off of her.

 

“In the flesh,” the other sorceress smiled, “Unless you know someone else who looks like me.”

 

She looked absolutely perfect. Not a lock of her raven curls was out of place and her ivory skin was powdered and clean. A freshly pressed black skirt gave a glimpse of pale thighs in lacy stockings and a striped, white bodice showed off a trim waistline and the high, pert arc of her bust. Huge violet eyes stared down her long nose, a half smile going up to meet her beauty mark.

 

Complicated emotions danced in Triss’ soul. This was her friend, a woman who she hadn’t seen for years, who’d been dying at their last encounter. Seeing her brought great happiness...but then it also brought anger and jealousy. Geralt had abandoned her and gone running at a mere letter from Yennefer, as if throwing all of what they’d gone through out with the garbage. And there was shame, for while soft living and grief eating had made Triss fatten up, Yennefer looked perfect…

 

Although, had her boobs always been so big? And she was sittng awfully straight…

 

“Unless you’re a doppler with a poor sense of humor, no...but what are you doing here? Novigrad is a death sentence for magicians, especially sorceresses!” Triss said, stepping out of the pool.

 

Before she’d done so of course, Triss sucked her stomach in as far as she could. Wrapping a towel around her middle and finding it didn’t quite meet despite the temporary reduction of her waistline. Subduing a frown, for admitting that she’d plumped up was as bad as plumping up in the first place, Triss instead dried herself off. She felt herself jiggle and wiggle, small rolls forming as she bent over to dry her thighs and her breasts swung in a way that made her back twinge. The weight she’d packed on over the last month had made the tall ginger extra top heavy, while her weakened muscles made her twinge if she didn’t have enough support.

 

“I’ve heard, but I manage to keep my head down,” Yennefer said with a small smile, “but I’m here looking for someone…”

 

Triss used some telekinesis to lift up her robe rather than bend over and get it. But she didn’t miss that when Yennefer smiled, there was a small bulge of...fat. Fat under her chin. In fact...her whole face really was softer! And her eyes were...was Yen staring at her tits?

 

“If it’s Geralt, well, the last time I saw him was months ago, right after he got your letter saying you were back. We haven’t spoken since,” Triss said, unable to keep some bitterness from her voice as she put the robe back on.

 

“Well, no. I know where Geralt is, roughly. I’m looking for Ciri,” the older sorceress admitted, standing up herself.

 

Triss raised an eyebrow of her own.

 

Ciri might have been Geralt’s and Yennefer’s adopted daughter, but the runaway Princess, blessed or perhaps cursed with the powers of the elder blood, meant the world to Triss. She viewed her as a little sister, someone to look after and guide. Her being in any sort of threat, which she would be if she was back on this sphere, was an immediate call to arms...also, Yennefer had sat up awfully stiffly. As if she was wearing a corset, which the tiny waisted brunette had never done before…

 

“In that case, if there’s anything I can do to help you, I will,” Triss said without hesitation.

 

“Have you seen her? Is she in the city?” Yennefer asked again, concern rising, the raven haired seductress fading away to the concerned mother.

 

That was what gave Yennefer a special place in Triss’ heart. Many a sorceress was catty and cruel, but with Yennefer, well the bitch had a well hidden heart of gold that in some ways showed brighter than Triss’ own.

 

“I haven’t. I heard rumors but I try to limit entering the city as much as I can, for very obvious reasons. Since the anti-mage edicts were put in place and I barely escaped with my life, I’ve been hiding out here which isn’t exactly in tune with the urban area,” Triss explained buttoning up her robe, noticing Yennefer’s eyes following her hands, “this is the Vegelbud estate. The Lady of the house is sympathetic to our cause and she offered me refuge, I’ve been disguising myself as her daughter who ran off to Kovir just before I arrived begging refuge.”

 

The robe was borrowed and fitted for someone not nearly as well endowed as Triss. As an experiment she left her breasts hanging out, the now heavy orbs and their plentiful freckles gleaming in the sun. A faint blush spread across Yennefer’s cheeks, which were definitely softer Triss realized. It took the brunette a moment to respond, Yennefer pulling of all things a cookie from a box on her belt to cover her words.

 

“Damn, I’ve not got a single lead on her. I’d hoped you’d have known something of her presence,” Yennefer sighed, looking Triss in the face, purple eyes occasionally flickering downwards, “in that case, I won’t trouble you any longer…”

 

The other woman turned to go, in doing so showing Triss her back. Yennefer’s skirt was less loose than it appeared, morning dew having effectively glued the black silk to the enchantress’ cheeks. Her rear end was certainly wider and bigger and rounder and softer and...Gods, was it lower? Yen’s butt had gone from girlish to very womanly and Triss found her own face going red.

 

From the excitement of seeing her rival looking less than her best...and a strong desire to squeeze that jiggly ass and see how soft it was. It was ridiculous, Triss had had female lovers and each time they’d been either trim noble girls or other sorceresses, all slender and lithe. She’d long thought Yennefer extremely attractive but somehow Yennefer being wider and softer was...even better than her being lean.

 

“Wait,” Triss spoke, stepping up to grab Yennefer’s shoulder.

 

Closer up, Triss realized that the shorter woman’s face was about at her cleavage height, Yen’s long nose an inch from her breasts. Both women were beat red at the realization, Triss stepping back and covering up as best she could, noticing herself that Yennefer’s small bust had grown prominent itself, both from size and she guessed corsetry.

 

“I may not know where Ciri had been, but I have an idea on who would. It won’t be pleasant though, so...how about we eat lunch first,” Triss offered with a smile.

 

“Lunch...I’m, well I have eaten a bit today,” Yennefer said, more bashfully than Triss had ever heard her.

 

“Oh, don’t worry. The food here is to die for,” Triss assured her.

[Batman76]

14 minutes ago, Arimnestos said:

The homoeroticism is killing me, the thought of chubby triss and thick yen together is amazing. 

Next chapter will be of great interest to you...

[Batman76]

1 hour ago, >_< 0_0 said:

Rarely do we ever get an excuse to describe a lush, curvy body bobbing weightlessly in the water 😖 it’s so sexy, and the extra fat makes everything wobble even more 😖😖 but where is this pool? All I remember is a huge maze. Maybe it’s in the maze somewhere.

And Ciri is probably going to have some trouble staying in shape if she hides in one spot too long.

There was a fountain, I increased it along with triss bust size

[Batman76]

2 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

I see it now! Yes. Hmm. A little bigger than I remember, and it sags deeper in the middle

Quite a bit wider too...

 

but enough distractions from writing this drunken sorceress stuffing, weigh in and lesbian sex scene...

[Batman76]

10 hours ago, what_have_i_done said:

What am amazing story!

why thank you. Your own posts of subtly softened girls help quite a bit for inspiration...

and here we go, an incredibly fan servicy chapter where two best friends comiserate about their frequent boyfriend, get very **, eat far too much and fuck each other's brains out...

 

Chapter 3: Something More...

Sorceresses tended to all lack self restraint.

 

Most were born despised, ugly and deformed, the magic that gave them their powers inflicting various genetic issues. Once they came into their powers, their great power and beauty tended to go to their heads. Stopping their aging at twenty also stopped the mental development of risk assessment and emotional restraint, leaving hundred year old women with the intellects of genius’ and the emotional volatility and risk assessment of a girl in her first year of university with something to prove.

 

All of which went a great deal towards explaining Triss and Yennefer’s current state.

 

“It’s...it’s like, am I...am I not good enough for him? Right? I mean, look at this face. Look at this...Triss, look at my face,” Yennefer slurred, gesturing at her face with the neck of a trembling wine bottle, “Triss *hic* you’re not looking at my face…”

 

“What? Hold on, what am I...what am I looking at?” Triss asked blearily, looking up from the empty pie ** her spoon was scraping.

 

“My ...uhh...hold on, my face, because Geralt left me for you even though my face is all,” Yennefer slurred, wine bottle getting dangerously angled towards a spill “because, it’s…ah shit.”

 

Red wine poured out of the wicker wrapped bottle, soaking the white fabric of Yennefer’s blouse, transparent fabric sticking to her breasts. Groaning, the sorceress snapped one finger to summon a new bottle of wine and snapped another to make her shirt disappear. The white silk vanished, letting her ivory skin be exposed: pert, round breasts sticky with wine and shiny from rapid growth, pink nipples gleaming. Beneath them, a pampered and toneless tummy stretched wide from a feast fit for six. Love handles were growing up from her hips, moving her waistline higher even as it widened.

 

“H-hold on, were you talking about your *munch* your face or your tits,” Triss said, losing the point of the conversation and taking a deep swig of her own wine, “I was eating too much to notice…”

 

“I don’t know but...this food’s fucking good,” Yennefer agreed, shoving a buttery biscuit into her mouth.

 

Lady Vegelbud was an immensely rich woman, a minor but very beautiful noble girl who’d married an adventurous prospector exploring the then poor land of Kovir. Discovering great mineral wealth had let the Lady indulge herself, buying not just a great estate but the services of excellent chefs and a very deep wine cellar. The former tourney queen had promptly grown quite fat as a result and became very dependent on weight loss potions brewed by one Triss Merigold to keep her figure, the sorceress tipped extra to stay mum about how the Lady’s waistline stayed so thin. When Triss had had to go on the run, the nearby Vegelbud estate was an obvious place.

 

Immensely grateful for maintaining her looks, the Lady had given Triss not just refuge and a disguise as her own absent daughter, but every luxury imaginable. A feast for a family of six, replete with pies, roasts, puddings, stuffing, vegetables, fried fowl and plenty of wine. And both Yennefer and Triss, despite their ages and recent weight gain, were still total light weights.

 

“Why was I pointing at my face again?” Yennefer asked blurrily after she swallowed, her genius brain operating through a haze of booze as the now topless sorceress drank more wine

 

“I don’t know, probably because of *munch* Geralt,” Triss muttered, taking a massive bite of drumstick.

 

“Yes! Geralt, damn witcher. I was in *hic* paradise with him and when we were separated he just ran off with, err…,” Yennefer, a natural ** talker monologued, “you…”

 

“Yeah well, he’d saved me from being turned into a statue and then *hic*,” the ** Triss slurred, taking a very long drought of wine straight from the bottle, “a letter from you and he ran off and I just *urp* ate myself into pighood…”

 

As they were in a private chamber, Triss had bothered changing from her robe, directly summoning it from the kitchens with magic. Said robe was now on the ground, the redhead sitting naked in the comfortable chair. Her already pudgy midsection bulged forwards, stuffed with food to the point of groaning and full of wine to the point of sloshing. The sterile sorceress looked full term pregnant, her head sized breasts starting to rest on the heavy gut, it’s popped belly button brushing the edge of the table.

 

“Pighood? Pfftt, you’re practically sve-sev-slev-svelte!” Yennefer stuttered **, pausing to drink yet more wine, “Besides, everything you eat goes to your boobs…”

 

“Yeah I thought that was good the first couple of cup sizes, but now? My jugs are sagging like I skipped a decades worth of anti-aging rituals. They’re so floppy I can almost, look I can almost put my nipple in my mouth,” Triss hiccuped, jostling her hefty tear drops, which were starting to gain small white stretchmarks and just failing to meet her lips with one brown nipple, “see...okay, not quite but like soon.”

 

Yennefer dropped her fork in amazement at the delicious sight of Triss nearly self-nursing, and then, caught staring, ate more pie to cover it up.

 

“Yeah, because they’re the size of your fucking head. Gods, every time I see your rack I regret going for the petite, tiny option when it was time to be made pretty,” Yennefer giggled through her full mouth, her refined accent slipping for crass farmgirl under the rain of wine, “besides you look bloody damn gorgeous, so soft and cuddly, like a big, voluptuous pillow.”

 

Triss was already blushing from the alcohol, but her blush went redder still at Yennefer’s drunken rambling.

 

“You...you think I look good?” Triss asked, unsure if she was hearing things right.

 

“Please, you’re like a fertility goddess. I could suck those tits till I went gray,” the ageless brunette hiccuped, “and you look better all soft. If I wanted hard I’d sleep with a man, and you know, fuck them. Geralt stayed with me the longest and he left me for you and then left you for me and fuck him you know, because I thought he really cared about me and *hic* I get all angry but then I see him again and it’s like I’m a damn school girl with a crush and I want him to take me even though I’m fat now…”

 

“F-fat? You! No,” Triss returned, spilling wine on the table and licking it up, her breasts pressing into a plate of fried potato slices, the unhealthy starches stuck to the tan titties.

 

“Of course I’m fat,” yennefer said, shoving an entire slice of pumpkin pie into her mouth, “I’m fucking rotund, I think I’ve gained thirty pounds at least this year. Because of this damned curse amulet the fucking southerners put on me to make me find Cir fasteri, as if I wouldn’t kill myself to give her a minute of life...wait, Ciri weren’t you going to help me find Ciri…”

 

“Yeah, I *hic* already sent off a message. Gonna be a few days until we can meet the crimelords though and we’ll have to be *urp* naked,” Triss explained, sitting up with difficulty due to her bloating, “and you’re lucky, I just *hic* am allergic to potions and I lost my weight loss charms. I could have put them on two *urp* months ago and I’d still be thin but I was too much of a sad sack, depression eating over Geralt…”

 

“Damn Geralt, the yellow eyed fuck. Why do we even care, just because his cock feels like lightning. He’s why we both got fat,” Yennefer complained, eating another slice with her hands, usually pristine decorum all lost.

 

“Fat? You’re not fat,” Triss said, circling the conversation around again.

 

“I’m so fucking fat I had to take my corset off so I could get fatter!” Yennefer protested, lightly slapping her own dome of a belly, “Look at this, I had a twenty inch waist and I’m so fucking bloated, I must have half a foot of bloat just from the wine I drank!”

 

The short, sloshed woman had only meant to have a few bites. But as she got drunker and the corset tighter, she’d pulled it off, letting her gut out in full. With her blouse gone, the raven haired woman sat shakily in her seat wearing just her skirt, stuffed and bloated stomach filling her lap. She gave it a light slap for emphasis, its thickening coat of blubber jiggling.

 

“I mean, you put on a few pounds but it looks, soooo goood on you,” Triss slurred, her exposed nipples slowly hardening as she took in how round the normally skinny brunette looked, “you’re all cute and cuddly and bouncy. So much better than the regal queen look you had, you’re like the, like the girl next door now that you just want to get a hand under her skirts…”

 

“Next door to a pie shop more like. And you haven’t seen my ass. It’s fucking fat, it eats my underwear like I eat cookies,” the grumbling, angry ** muttered, “I ripped my pants in half this morning, can you believe it? I’m far fatter than you are. You’re like the...like the milf noble lady who’s all prim and proper but every time she breath’s almost puts an eye out with her big fucking nipples…”

 

“Well yeah, but I’m way fatter than you,” Triss stammered, slowly rising to her feet, hand on her back to support her weight, pulling some oily fries off of her breasts, “I’ve got, a, what do you, a scale in the other room. I’m sure I’m fatter…”

 

“You’re taller, that’s cheating,” Yennefer accused, “of course you’ll weigh more…”

 

“We’ll just use our our old uh weights,” Triss said, waddling onwards, holding her arms out ot stop the room from spinning around herself and opening the door to reveal a precise bronze medical scale.

 

Yennefer slowly followed, eating pie directly from the plate, chocolate and cream smearing on her face and holding a bottle of wine, her belly bloating up by the bite and the sip.

 

“Here I was uhhh, 135 before,” the 5’8 redhead said, stepping on with a thunk of metal and grind of gears, “and now I’m shit, oh fuck. Now I’m 178, forty fucking pounds…how, I knew I’d let myself go but gods, am I that fat?”

 

“Please you *munch* look gorgeous, you’re finally getting an ass on you,” Yennefer slurred, spanking her friend hard enough to leave a red hand print on her jiggling, freckled butt, “Now move, I wanna see how fucking badly I ruined myself…”

 

Yennefer stepped shakily up, her natural grace even in four inch stilettos ruined by five bottles of wine and a changed center of gravity. 

 

“No fair, you’ve got a whole pie in your hand,” Triss pointed out, “and wine.”

 

“Ugh, fine I’ll finish it first,” the brunette muttered, chugging the entire bottle of wine, red droplets cascading across her chin, throat and bosom, before shoving several handfuls of pie into her mouth, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk, “fshee?”

 

Slowly swallowing but audibly sloshing, Yennefer started to step again, only for Triss to hold up a hand.

 

“You’ve got a skirt on, and high heels,” the ** redhead pointed out, “if we want to find, uh find who’s the fattest we both have to be naked. Right cause otherwise, it uh...just take your skirt off…”

 

Yennefer swallowed again, then snapped her fingers. Her skirt teleported off of her, materializing folded and pressed on a nearby chair along with her panties and her polished boots. Trim, girlish legs now sat snugly together, plenty of fat having collected in Yennefer’s hips, buns and lower belly. Her thighs were meaty, her shoulder width hips hefty and her tight, taut butt was now soft, pillowy, wide and in the early stages of drooping. 

 

Of course, without the four inch heels, Yennefer was now standing in mid air and fell the short distance. Unbalanced, she tumbled right into the taller Triss, knocking the softening redhead into a wall and her own face into the ginger’s breasts. Taut bellies bumped into each other, each engorged woman groaning and needing a moment to catch their breath.

 

“Ugh, oww I...these are way bigger up close…,” Yennefer said, face pointedly not moving from the milky valley, “and they really suit you…”

 

“And you’re waaay shorter than I remembered...,” Triss finished, looking down at the much shorter woman, able to see a few flecks of cellulite and some silvery stretchmarks across the hefty surface of Yen’s once flawless buns, “and wider...in a really good way…”

 

“I’m not short, I’m uh, pete...petite and I’m not wide I’m...chunky,” the ** brunette slurred, stepping gingerly away and onto the scale at last, “Okay, one forty five...shit. That’s fat...and you’re still fatter than me, I only gained thirty five pounds…”

 

“I thought you only weighed a hundred pounds?” Triss asked, “that’s what you’d said…”

 

“Yeah well...I lied about it. Cause I wanted to look, uh, skinnier. Fat lot of good that did me. Cause it turns out you are fatter even though I look way worse...” Yennefer muttered, stepping off of the scale and slipping in her drunkenness.

 

Triss stumbled forth to catch her, concern evident despite forgetting her formidable muscles were now mush and she had no sense of balance due to the booze. Arms linked, the two ** women falling unharmed onto a well placed fainting couch, which groaned under their 300lb plus combined weight. For a moment they held their breaths, then let out a massive, ** giggle.

 

“Gods, can you imagine if that broke? That’s how you know you’re fat!” Triss laughed.

 

“I don’t think I’d ever be able to look you in the *hic* face again!” Yennefer agreed, although her eyes were on Triss’ heavy, heaving bosom.

 

“You’re not looking at my face now. Ha, you’re just like Geralt,” the redhead snorted.

 

“Yeah well, you know what I think would make Geralt really mad?” Yennefer pressed.

 

“What?” Triss began, ending as Yennefer lunged forwards and kissed her.

 

The kiss was loud, wet and sloppy, befitting their stinking ** status. It went on for nearly a minute, the pair’s tongues lurching around their shining white teeth. At last they broke away, breathing heavily.

 

“I don’t know if, whew, if Geralt would be angry at seeing that,” Triss laughed.

 

“Well, fuck Geralt. I know what I want now,” Yennefer demanded, lunging into kiss her friend once more.

 

Again the pair kissed, hands beginning to roam further south. Yennefer found herself cupping Triss’ heavy breasts, her small hands barely enough for the hefty, sloppy mammaries. Triss was kneading Yenn’s widened butt, squeezing and kneading the jiggling ass fat. Both tried to roll over but the swollen, bloated bulk of their bellies prevented such a maneuver.

 

“You’re the fattest one, right? So you need to burn some lard off,” Yennefer demanded, “there’s a riding crop and a strap on in my bag, I want you to punish me and I want you to fuck me…bring the ball gag too, I’m a screamer…”

 

“Going hard already, huh Yenn?” the drunken ginger laughed, wobbling to her feet.

 

The athletic Merigold stood with a fat girl grunt, gravid belly forming a roll as she stood. It took the ** a moment to find Yennefer’s traveling bag, sorting through the magical sack for the items she needed while munching on another turkey drumstick. Yennefer meanwhile, pushed herself shakily to her hands and knees, engorged stomach just barely failing to touch the couch’s plush velvet. 

 

“Hold, ugh come on, one sec. Gotta get, come on, stupid harness, I know I’ve gotten fat but how skinny were you when you last wore it,” the plump redhead muttered clumsily getting into the black leather harness, its straps still set for a slender Yennefer from many pounds and years ago, “Okay, last hole but it should last…”

 

“Come on, I’m dripping and...that’s not the ball gag,” Yennefer said, squinting at the untouched, virginally white cream icing of a red velvet cake placed before her.

 

“I want you fatter. I want this ass, even bigger, plumper and rounder. You’re getting, *urp*, cellulite and I want more of it,” Triss ordered.

 

“Fuck, cellulite? Shit, let me see, i can’t have *SMACK!* OWW Fuck Triss, what the hell!?” Yenn gasped over the crack of the horse whip on her ass.

 

“You *hic* said you wanted punished,” Triss demanded, giving a gentler smack on Yennefer’s soft lower thigh, “and I’m gonna do it in ways that stick. Now hold on, I’ve got to get this phallus working…”

 

“Alright, I’ll eat. Just put it in, it’ll do the reeeesssssttt-ohhhhhhhhhmyyyyyyggooooooodddsss,” Yennefer moaned, eyes going back into her head as the strap on plunged into her.

 

A marvel of magical engineering, the rubbery phallus began rapidly vibrating as it plunged into Yennefer’s sopping wet slit. Triss gave a small moan of her own as the portion plunged into her own vulva shook and then, after watching the jiggles shoot across Yennefer’s plump buns and soft back, pulled out and gave a not so gentle smack to Yennefer’s ass.

 

“Only good fatties get the thrust, and good fatties eat. Do you want to be a good fatty?” Triss asked, licking her lips for a reason that had nothing to do with food.

 

Yennefer took a deep breath. Famously beautiful and famously proud, being suddenly cast as the submissive and force fed while having her recent weight gain thrown in her face was an odd turn...one that left her dripping wet.

 

“I want to be a good fatty, I’ll eat, just put it in me,” Yennefer gasped, thrusting her face into the rich icing of the cake.

 

The rich red velvet tasted far too good, its deliciousness compounding when the phallus slid back home. She moaned and groaned into the cake, trying not to choke and to keep her trembling arms supporting her as Triss slowly thrust in and out, building speed and taking more depth every minute. The sorceress began telekinetically squeezing her own nipples and the redhead’s as well, the magical force making both sets of engorged breast jiggle and hardened with just enough force. Just as Triss leaned in and grabbed her long black hair, pulling it like a reign as she slowly smacked the crop against her hips. Yennefer’s eyes widened, her back arching and she realized she could feel Triss’ bloated belly pressing over her ass.

 

“Come on fatty, don’t go yet. If you can finish the cake before you come, I’ll get you another one,” Triss promised, breath coming faster as her stamina fell, weakened legs complaining of cramps from the motion, “we know that’s what you want, you fatass. God you’ve got so many stretchmarks…”

 

“Ummmmfffffmunch,” was the only sound Yennefer could make, the woman trying not to swallow cake into her lungs while her head was submerged in cake.

 

As she started to cum, fast and hard, Yennefer could only hope that this didn’t awaken anything in her...but knew that was a very vain hope...

[Batman76]

On 8/14/2021 at 4:11 PM, Arimnestos said:

No amount of fan service has ever made me this happy (Or painfully erect). This was amazing and if Andrzej Sapkowski was an FA i think he'd love you

Why thank you, that's a compliment. There's an almost weight gain storyline with Yennefer in the books, she even rips a seam in her dress at one point!, so it means a lot.

 

On 8/15/2021 at 9:26 AM, >_< 0_0 said:

It’s fan service, but I vividly remember every moment the Witcher characters got ** and how sexy shit almost always happened, so it’s not as much fan service as it is accurate world-building

Accurate world building can be sexy fan service...

 

Chapter 4: Dark Under-Belly

 

Upon awakening in the middle of the night, Yennefer was greeted with a pounding headache and the sound of someone running a water-wheel powered saw.

 

“Urghhhh, what, oh why did I drink that much,” Yennefer gasped, mouth feeling like a trash heap and stomach sore to the touch as she awoke to the mother of all hangovers.

 

Dainty hands pressed to her temples, her purple eyes blinking in the darkness. She was cold to the touch, realizing she’d slept bare instead of in her normal nightgown and lingerie. She made an attempt to fumble for a blanket, only to find herself stuck fast.

 

“Ughhhhh,” came the murmur of a familiar voice at the motion, making Yennefer’s eyes widen in the dark.

 

A snap of a finger and a bedside candle flashed to life, revealing a room in a state of some disarray. Blankets were knocked to the ground, several wine bottles littered the carpet and most importantly, Yennefer was on her side, spooning her best friend Triss, her hips pressed to the redhead’s softened hips.

 

“No, oh oh no this was a bad idea,” the hungover enchantress muttered quietly, looking down at the somewhat reduced, but still pregnant looking food bloat she’d munched her way into, bigger than she’d ever imagined, “oh what did I do...how did I eat that much...and did I…”

 

A small healing spell healed her headache, leaving other telltale sensations to her earlier activities. An ass that throbbed from a vigorous lashing. Pink nipples turned cherry red from being sucked too hard. And a vagina pleasantly, happily sore from a very long fucking.  Worse, she was wearing her own strap on, black leather several notches from its usual position, and while one arc of the double phallus was obviously inside her still, the other (hidden beneath the stuffed dome of her belly) could only be in one place, inside her best friend.

 

She’d had sex with Triss. And had had sex with her for a long, long time given the spanking marks on Yenn’s ass suggested she’d been serviced first. So long that they’d passed out in bed together, magical phallus still in them...

 

“Oh no, we fucked,” she winced, the drunken revels barely appearing to her memory.

 

There was no better way to end a friendship that adding in sex. And she truly valued Triss’ friendship, despite all of the Geralt caused issues. The damn sweet, stubborn girl would surely fall head over heels in love with her and then that would complicate this search for Ciri and her own feelings on Geralt and it would be best to just slink away, hide the strap in her luggage and pretend it never happened...and maybe go on a ten mile walk to work off some of this feast she’d shoved into herself…

 

A loud hummmmmmmmmmmmmmm prevented any such plan from happening, Yennefer’s movements having reactivated the magical strap on. The vibration travelled up from Yennefer’s sore, exhausted puss into her widening thighs and soft lower belly, an unmistakable jiggling son followed by a blush of pleasure and a faint moan. She saw the same jiggling go up Triss’ squishy back, the vibrator making sure Triss stirred awake.

 

“Mmmmmm, did I leave that in again?” Triss muttered, hand going to between her legs and tugging the strap on, which only pulled Yennefer into her back, ‘Wait, what...Yennefer? Did I...did we…ohhhh….did we have...unnnn...sex?”

 

“I think unnnn I think we are right ohgods right now,” Yennefer told her, face going red as her partner’s hair.

 

                        ….

 

Yennefer had had a lot of awkward breakfasts after nights of unplanned sex in her life but this might top it.

 

“So...how do we want to handle this,” Yennefer began, taking a long sip of expensive zerrikanian cocoa, “because...well we’re going to have to handle this…”

 

“Handle?’ Triss asked in surprise, looking up from a plate of bacon and eggs and biscuits across the table, “we need to handle this now?”

 

Yennefer looked up from the table, where she was fairly certain she’d orgasmed on last night at one point, to Triss. After a moment she looked up past the heavy, heaving bosom hanging from Triss’ taut night gown to the redhead’s green eyes.

 

“Well, I...er,” Yennefer began, shoving a few strips of bacon into her own mouth to cover the awkward pause, “you see…”

 

The raven haired woman had a reputation for ruthlessness. She’d killed hundreds in her time without regret, had after an argument with Geralt cheated on him without remorse and would have killed thousands to help her daughter...but the truth was, with people she really cared about, she was a softy.

 

“Yen, are you...ashamed to have had sex?” Triss asked, a slight bit of hurt in her voice.

 

“Ashamed? No, not at all I, it’s just…,” Yenn stammered, shoving a gravy soaked biscuit into her mouth, “I’m...you were amazing, I can still barely sit down from that *chomp* whipping, it’s just...I ...was this a one off thing? Are we *gulp* together now? Because there could be professional complications if well, our entire careers hadn’t been upended by the war...and *munch* we’ll have to explain it sooner or later...and what, do we want to add Geralt to *urp* this? And do you, well without booze, am I still attractive? I know I’ve put on so much weight *crunch* am I losing my looks? Triss? Oh gods, I am, I’ve turned into a big...ball of ugly goo haven’t I?”

 

Triss had barely heard the brunette’s words, staring instead at the speed Yennefer had cleaned her plate of breakfast food. Both the motion of the fork and the rapid bouncing all that chewing and swallowing caused on Yennefer’s chest. The now quite busty brunette was about to pop her black teddy, ivory cleavage vibrating with every moment. It took a moment for Triss to look past the bulbous breasts, which she was slightly jealous of given their perk, to Yennefer’s concerned face.

 

“I’m sorry Yen, but if I thought my cervix could take the beating I’d say we spend the next three days pounding each other into submission,” Triss said honestly, “but I’m going to need at least a day of rest before I do anything beyond some light head this afternoon...if you’re okay with that.”

 

“I...I’m okay with that, of course…*munch* if you are,” Yennefer admitted, pulling a cookie out from her omnipresent box and eating it, smiling shyly, “I realize that I’m not exactly acting myself right now, but this condition has thrown me for a loop I *munch* can’t focus and with Ciri to worry about too, I’m driving myself half mad….”

 

“Don’t worry about Ciri,” Triss reassured her, “it may take a few days, but the Big 4 know everything that happens in this city. They’ll have our information in three days and we’ll know exactly where Ciri is.”

 

Yennefer took a deep breath, her skin tight lingerie groaning audibly even across the table, “You’re right. I’ve got to keep focused. So where are we meeting them at? Here? Some manor house or tavern?”

 

Triss looked a bit nervous, biting her plump lower lip with her white teeth, “Well, about that…”

 

                …..

“I can’t believe we have to be naked for this,” Yennefer muttered, sucking in her stomach to fasten a towel around her thickened waistline.

 

“I told you we had to be naked for this,” Triss told her, trying to get her floppy chest inside the towel, “and I kept telling you that whenever I saw you eating and when I asked if you wanted to exercise with me...”

 

“Yes well, I've got an eating issue, okay?” Yennefer suggested harshly, taking a deep breath before opening the changing room door and walking into the bathhouse proper.

 

Novigrad’s mighty, illustrious bath house was a huge building, mostly underground and magnificent. Marble floors and columns stretched on across the huge main room, statues of various fertility goddesses separating the semi-private bathing chambers. Magical pumps kept the water hot and clean, despite the anti-sorceress pogrom in the city. Here, securely in the grip of the city’s powerful gang lords, the religious mania was forgotten.

 

Men and women frollicked and mingled without regards to sex or propriety. Most of the women were naked, displaying young and lean bodies at the height of their beauty. Slight embarrassment tinged both sorceress’ cheeks to realize they were among the chunkiest women in the room, Yennefer indeed pausing to glance at the taut abs of a very fit woman just getting into a tub, putting a hand to her own pudgy stomach in comparison. Triss, noticing the discomfort, paused to lean down to the short woman’s slightly pointed ear:

 

“You used to look like that...and you look so much better fat,” Triss responded, with a loud slap to Yen’s girthy rump.

 

The brunette sorceress stared out in absolute rage at her friend and lover, who walked right past her into the rest of the bathhouse. Grumbling, Yennefer set off after her...only to find she was having trouble keeping up the pace. Triss was a lot taller than her and had always been more athletic, even after going to seed. The ginger had been exercising every day since they’d reunited, swimming and even lifting weights. Not enough to really lose any weight, not when she was eating so much still, but she clearly felt better...and was far fitter than Yennefer.

 

“H-hey, hold on!” Yennefer yelped, picking up the pace and holding up her towel.

 

Safe and secure in the palatial estate, Yennefer had indulged to her fullest. Filled with worry over the fate of her adopted daughter and wrapped up in a heady new affair, her body had been on auto pilot. So she’d done what she’d always done when worried...and eaten. The only time her mouth hadn’t been full of food was when it had been full of Triss and the only exercise she’d gotten was during sex, which usually involved food too. 

 

As a result, more than a dozen pounds of pure fat had piled themselves onto Yennefer’s already chubby body at an unbelievable rate. Her face jiggled as she walked, rounded cheeks and full second chin destroying any remnants of her regal beauty. Heavy breasts, skin shiny with growth threatened to pop out of her towel with each step and were just starting to lower a hair. Any vestige of her waistline was destroyed, love handles lardy and belly bulging even before the massive bloat of breakfast was taken into account. Enough fat had layered onto her girlish hips that they unwillingly sashayed as she walked, wobbling side to side so her shelf deep ass threatened everything at waist height, knocking into no small amount of people. Svelte legs now touched halfway down the thigh, thick and lardy and chafing as she waddled along…

 

As she waddled along.

 

“I’m waddling...my Gods, I’m fucking waddling,” the furious sorceress thought to herself, the indignity of being so fat her walking was impeded making her both furious...and a little turned on.

 

Her fuck session with Triss had woken something up inside Yennefer’s brain. Something that desired growth and consumption. Something that demanded the living work of art that was her past body be completely destroyed, buried under a tidal wave of fat. For all the gaping at her slender beauty to turn into disgust at her globular bulk, to be so immense that she struggled to walk….

 

Something, the Sorceress was realizing as she waddled up to Triss, that was a real bitch and a half to control. Especially when it turned out Triss had a fat fetish and really enjoyed feeding Yennefer to the brim every night...and that Yennefer, to her own horror, liked it too. 

 

Rushing as fast as she could while maintaining some dignity, the near obese sorceress waddled after Triss. The taller woman opened the wicker door to a private bathing chamber, one immensely opulent, with cheeses and wine laid out for snacks. Yenn waddled in, closing the door behind her with a grunt, wicker smacking her immense cheeks. With horror, she realized that her towel had fallen half off during her walk, mooning the entire establishment with her chunky buns.

 

“Siggy, thank you so much for seeing us so quickly,” Triss was saying at  the private marble tub, putting aside her towel, “I believe you know my associate.”

 

The other sorceress of course looked plump and chunky. Thick thighs, a soft tummy and breasts so big they’d started to sag. But compared to Yennefer, the marginally fitter Triss was her old self. 

 

“Gods, don’t *whew* rush off like that,” Yennefer muttered, sweating already from the exertion and the heat of the bath chamber.

 

“Of course, although I can’t help but she’s changed a bit in the last few years,” a harsh voice said.

 

Yennefer looked up and glared, noticing an immense shape in the water. A tall and heavily built man, glaciers of fat over a mountain of muscle, bald as an egg and with the metaphorical face of a boar. That of a leg breaker or a barbarian raider...save for unusually intelligent eyes.

 

“Dijkstra,” Yennefer growled, recognizing the former head of Redania’s spy network, one of her previous employers and someone she didn’t want to see at any point, much less while fifty pounds overweight, turning to Triss, “this is the big four?”

 

“This is the main gang leader who’s trying to help us, yes,” Triss reminded her, “to help us find Ciri.”

 

“Perhaps you could call me the biggest of the big four. As for you, Yennefer, you look like you’re doing well,” Dijkstra grinned, “Prospering even in these uncertain times. Come in, the water is great. Perhaps have a snack.”

 

“I’m full,” Yennefer lied, her always hungry belly grumbling at the sight of cheese and wine.

 

Glaring, Yennefer dropped her own towel and joined Triss. The taller enchantress stepped nimbly into the tub, her long legs and exercise helping her. Meanwhile, Yennefer  had to stand on tip toe to get into the water, her short legs and low flexibility fouling her entrance. Her gut pressed into the rim of the tub, rolls forming as she essentially slid in and facing her immense ass, with Triss’ red hand print still upon it, towards the ex-spy master. She sat down next to her friend and lover in the bubbling hot water, glaring still. 

 

“Why are you here Dijkstra? I would have thought King Radovid would have held onto all the secrets you knew,” the brunette sorceress asked haughtily.

 

“Well, lets just say that I disagreed with the King about a lot of things. Like say, trying to kill all the sorceresses. I’ve been rather fond of sorceresses before, its damned insane to kill off your best doctors and researchers. If we win the war, then the North’s culture is still destroyed. That’s if we win, far from a sure thing if we burn all of our artillery pieces while we’re at war with Nilfgaard,” the immense man shrugged, “which I’ve heard you’re serving.”

 

The gigantic man had, despite his boorish looks, been briefly involved with Philippa Eilheart, Triss and Yennefer’s former teacher and a noted beauty despite being 300 years old. What the usually girl loving Phillipa had seen in him, neither knew, save for the giant’s unusual wit.

 

Yennefer kept glaring, “I’m serving Ciri, no matter what Nilfgaard believes. I’m here to find her and help her, I don’t care about much else, but I’ll do almost anything for her. Triss said you have information on her?”

 

“Perhaps, there was a brief...incident in the city several weeks ago. A robbery of some of my personal goods, followed by a massive street brawl that saw dozens of men killed,” the immense Dijkstra grunted, “one silver haired woman was seen, using both magic and a sword to kill at least a dozen men.”

 

Both Triss and Yennefer leaned forwards, interest growing as this could only be Ciri. Under the water, the tall red head squeezed the short brunette’s hand.

 

“And did anyone see where she went? Did she leave any word?” Triss asked.

 

“Well, that’s the thing. It turned out that one of the Big four was involved, a viscous bastard named whore son. And he had an alliance with the witch hunters, who took a major prisoner at the ruckus. Someone that they carted off to the Cathedral of the Eternal Fire and locked up in a tiny cell, one lined with Dimeretium and guarded by an army,” the massive man explained, “a place not even a sorceress could get in and out of.”

 

Yennefer rubbed her chin, annoyed at how soft it felt, “Well then...we’re going to have to get her out.”

 

It was Dijkstra’s turn to glare, “did you listen to me? There’s dozens of templars there, scores of witch hunters! And waves of Whore Sons lunatic hitmen!”

 

“So I’ll have to kill a bunch of mage burning assholes. The day must end with Y,” Yennefer shrugged, pert bosom popping out of the water briefly, “I may have gotten fat, but that doesn’t mean my magic has stopped working.”

 

Further discussion was stopped by the distant main doors being smashed open. Scraggly, heavily tattooed men with rusty swords and axes rushed in, whooping and yelling in the midst of a drug trip. They ignored the crowd of bare bathers, who rushed shrieking into the streets, letting them pass and moving with cruel intent towards the private tub, visible through the steamy glass window. Dijkstra snarled, standing up like a mountain rising from the sea and grabbing an immense battle axe from behind the tub.

 

“Whore Son Jr’s army, speak of the devil. My fucking body guard is getting a new hole in his head for fucking up security. You two, there’s a secret passage under this tub, I’ll hold them until it drains,” Dijkstra told them, “it’ll lead into the sewers, you’ll have to save yourselves from there.

 

Both sorceresses looked at each other, trying not to see the immense, flopping length of the spy master’s penis as he stood up. When he’d gotten out of the tub, both let out a sigh of relief and gave though to how Phillipa, slender and petite, had taken that. Yennefer grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses, popping the cork with telekinesis and making the liquid shoot up, divide into two streams and fill her and Triss’ glasses.

 

“Into the sewers? I wouldn’t go into sewers with shoes on, not if the whole Nilfgardian Army Group Center was on my heels. Much less barefoot and naked,” Yennefer sniffed, taking a sip of wine, “damn, 1102. A good year.”

 

The bare spy master looked away from the assassins towards the unperturbed women, “Are you two mad? Run!”

 

“Run? I’m not in condition to run,” Yennefer said angrily, “besides. Didn’t you listen to me? I said I’d do anything to help Ciri. I meant it, for her I’d kill the Gods themselves, some gang members aren’t even a bump in the road.”

 

Both brunette and redhead snorted, Yennefer standing up in the tub, a plump sex goddess emerging from the sea, just as the first assassin kicked open the door. He had a moment to marvel at the over fed, plushly round sight: one of the most beautiful women in the world with an extra fifty pounds of succulent pudge, gleaming wet and stark naked. Yen’s belly touched the brim of the tub and a few bubbles still gleamed on her breasts before the sorceress finished her drink and spoke.

 

“Glavella Glam,’ Yennefer hissed, a cloud of purple energy shooting from her mouth and flooding into the water.

 

Eighty gallons of hot water surged out of the tub, turned into a living thing bound to Yennefer’s will. Like a massive snake, it slammed into the first ranks of gang members, knocking them to the ground and flooding into their lungs. The now terrified men clawed at their throats until their lungs filled, the rest of the water flooding on and grabbing each of the other men. Yennefer squeezed her hand, the water in their lungs freezing instantly to ice, icicles bulging from their noses.

 

“You haven’t lost a step, Yenn,” Triss suggested, sipping wine and eating a slice of cheese.

 

“How could anyone think I have?” the pudgy brunette agreed, sitting back down and turning the hot water faucet back on, now visible belly forming some rolls as it touched her chunky thighs, “So, I’m going to overthrow the Church of the Eternal Fire. Fancy on joining me?”

 

“Hmmm, let me think on it. My social calendar is a bit busy but I think I can get a hold of the handful of combat capable mages I’ve got stashed around the city,” Triss nodded, double chin showing as she did, “My spanking arm needs a break anyway.”

 

Dijkstra shook his head, looking away from the piles of dead gang members, “Well, you two may be stark raving mad as well as overfed...but why not, you’ve got my support.”

[Batman76]

Things will soon go off the rails... But that's what happens when you make yourself pope...

[Batman76]

1 hour ago, maxis192 said:

The way you write makes it dope, despite their still low weight.
Love the developing contrast between Triss and Yen.

Yen being short means the pounds hit quick...but the low weight part is gonna stop soon. 

[Batman76]

And chapter 4, written after too long of a week at work. Yennefer launches a one woman assault on a cult of witch hunters, what could go wrong?

Besides gaining a hundred or so pounds...

Chapter 4: A Most Fattening Coup

 

Superstitious peasants claimed that witches flew across the night sky on brooms. 

 

This was untrue of course. A village witch, be she a spiteful bag of bones or a bloated hag, wouldn’t have a percentage of the power needed to make a broomstick fly across the night sky. A well trained, superbly powerful, Veretruza educated sorceress on the other hand…well, she wouldn’t need to….or shouldn’t need too at least.

 

“OhnoI’mgoingtodie,” shot through Yennefer’s mind as she hurtled through the air, far faster than planned.

 

Dressed in a black gown and jacket,skirts trailing beneath her and hair whipping back, the sorceress was moving faster than an arrow. Levitating wasn’t unusual for her, she was among the top telekinetics alive, at Sodden Hill she’d grabbed Nilfgardian ballista bolts from the sky and thrown them into enemy formations. But throwing an iron bolt was one thing, not crushing your own fragile body into paste was another...especially when your mass had increased by almost fifty percent in two months. She’d given herself a little extra oomph on take off and instead of compensating for the fifty pounds she’d gained, the force was enough to send her hundreds of feet higher than expected!

 

Struggling not to scream, the sorceress slowed her rapid ascent slowly, so as not to crush herself flat between two opposing forces. After long moments of wait, she finally slowed to a halt, nearly a thousand feet up, cold sea winds making her abundant flesh rise with goose pimples.

 

“This used to be easier,” the sorceress gulped to herself, “or at least easier to control, why in the sphere would I be able to fling myself around so easily when I’m this big?”

 

She was used to moving around a slender, narrow, petite body. Not one with thick thighs, girthy hips, protruding belly and bulging, bulbous breasts, her aerodynamics having completely changed. Yennefer had expected the night’s flight to be a bit difficult due to hauling around her fat butt, that she’d have to carefully burn power lest she run out of mana and plummet! Instead, her reserves were overflowing. 

 

“It made no sense, magic comes from the user’s stamina and I’m...well, I have no stamina. I’m fat as a gravid pig anymore and sweat going up stairs,” the brunette muttered, feeling her snug clothes pinch her porky body, “Ugh, but tonight it ends. I’ll find Ciri and then...it’s time to diet and maybe even, ugh, exercise…”

 

A breeze stirred Novigrad’s typical fog below her, out of the soup loomed the tall cathedral spires of the Cult of Eternal Fire’s cathedral. Putting thoughts aside, Yennefer lowered herself down onto an angled tower roof, grabbing the banner pole and carefully setting her plump buns upon the chilly tiles. There was a small *POP* that sounded as she sat, making her look around in alarm thinking it was some sort of watch signal...only to feel cool air on her belly.

 

“What fresh humiliation is this,” Yennefer muttered, looking down and seeing her belly bulging out of her armor in the moonlight.

 

Mages by tradition didn’t wear armor, wearing metal when you might need to throw lightning bolts was a bad idea. And superfluous when you could make a magical shield able to resist a trebuchet’s lead shot. But given that the Cult of Eternal fire had crossbow bolts tipped in magic ignoring dimeritium, Yennefer had taken the offer of a brigantine jacket before beginning the assault. The strong yet lightweight armor consisted of small, overlapping steel plates inside tough fabric, in this case black velvet. It was a charming suit, one that Yennefer could see herself wearing with a pair of high leather boots and skintight pants, showing off a lean, sexy body...that she’d eaten herself out of.

 

Far too short for a knight’s harness, Yenn had been given armor made for a squire. A fit, skinny young man who exercised thrice a day and had a stomach flat as a board. She’d barely squeezed into the tight jacket, its laces pulled tighter than a corset, and after an hour of heavy breathing and then a quick change in position, well it was no surprise it had popped loose. With some trepidation, Yennefer pinched the thick layer of lard, finding it spongy soft and ticklish to the touch. Biting her lip she sucked in and refastened the armor, hoping it would hold.

 

“What have I done to myself? I used to have a twenty inch waistline, Geralt could almost put his hands around it,” she cursed to herself.

 

With Triss, the other sorceress’ lips pressed to her sloshing figure, it was easy to feel good about ballooning up. All that mattered was just getting bigger and softer and more suited to eating oversized, luxurious meals. But when operating in the field, her body shredding protective garments, well...it was fairly hard to feel good about it!

 

“Diet later, focus now,” the brunette insisted, looking down at her prey.

 

Fat and lazy the raven haired woman might be, but she still had the powers of a mage at her disposal. Scooting up to wrap her chubby thighs around the pole, Yennefer pulled a pair of opera glasses from her enchanted bottomless bag, looking through them at an illuminated night. Eternal Fire guards and witch hunters stood out like lit torches, Yennefer making note in her mind of where they all stood and doing a quick head count. That done, she planned her spells, realizing it would be as easy as eating turkey legs…

 

“Turmfy Smlegs?” she said in puzzlement, through a mouth full of delicious meat.

 

Swallowing, Yennefer looked down to a steaming drumstick in her free hand, mostly stripped of meat. A memory of Triss suggesting packing emergency rations into the enchanted bag came back.

 

“I’m eating without even knowing it,” she groaned, “ugh, this diet starts at dawn! Triss better hurry up with her part of a plan, or I’ll be over 200lbs…”

 

She ate the rest of the turkey leg anyway as she waited for Triss' signal...and there it was!

 

Out in the city, at a witch hunter barracks, there was a sudden plume of fire! Triss worked best with flame, both to nurture and to burn, and right now she, Djikstra and some of his gang were launching an assault to kill every witch hunter there, free any prisoners and most importantly, draw the eye of every witch hunter in the city. An alarm was raised and the cathedral garrison rushed to the yard, mounting horses and preparing to ride to their comrade’s rescue.

 

“Unless some enchantingly beautiful and righteously pissed sorceress killed them all for imprisoning her daughter first,” Yennefer smiled, beginning to cast.

 

Having found a hidden stash of dimeritium, the Church of Eternal Fire thought itself well prepared for a magical assault. They were quite wrong because despite the spell proof collars most of their hunters wore, Yennefer knew all the ways around protection. 

 

The collars might protect against a lightning bolt or magical fire ball, but not against a hundred mile an hour brick to the face. Holding up the turkey leg like a baton, she wove her brick back and force, smack, pop, bam, bop, those witch hunters left on the walls falling like flies. When the last one was done, the brunette grinned and stood up to begin the next part of her task.

 

“Nowfm feur thu gatef,” she said through a full mouth, frowning to angrily realize she’d devoured yet another Turkey leg from her bag, “Oh for the love of the Gods, what the hell is wrong with me?”

 

Throwing the second bone away, she jumped off the tower, hovering to a stop thirty feet above the column of soldiers preparing to open the gate. She took a deep breath, so deep that as her now plush bosom pressed into her armor the inevitable happened and straps made to resist steel gave way before tit. A pop sounded, loud enough soldiers heard it and turned to see Yenn’s half foot of pale cleavage gleaming in the moonlight.

 

Which was the last thing they saw, as the sorceress screamed.

 

Fifty pounds of fat meant that Yennefer couldn’t hit the high notes like she should have, but the low bass shot forwards in a deadly cone. Witch hunters were slammed into the gates, flattened by the men behind them slamming into them and then the gates themselves gave way, flying off into the street.

 

Gasping, an out of breath Yennefer wiped sweat from her brow and slowly settled onto the ground, the cathedral square apparently unguarded.

 

“Ugh, I’ve definitely gotten louder over the past months. My wind is a bit...low though,” she muttered, trying to get her armor buttoned back over her tits before Djikstra’s army of gangsters came in and saw her nipples.

 

The short sorceress was turning rapidly into a short stack. Her breasts had tripled in size from the little B cups she’d had, ripening from little grapefruits into soft pumpkins. Thankfully they were still pert and round, unlike Triss’ floppy delicotage, but the brunette was finding the big bust a bit odd to deal with. Unfortunately, the sensitivity of her bust and the issue of shoving the big titties inside a breastplate made for a twelve year old boy distracted her from the golem she was walking by.

 

A bronze statue of some long dead saint burst to life as yennefer passed, its programming making it instantly hostile to a mage. Yennefer was grabbed by her ankles, raised high and slammed head first into the ground. Thankfully the magical shield she’d put on herself protected her from the damage, but her ears still rang and the half dazed brunette had to pump power into her shields as she was slammed again and again, her reserves of mana plunging by the heart beat...and then thrown through the main doors of the cathedral itself! Yelping, she put every ounce of power she had into protecting herself and just managed to avoid getting her skull caved in.

 

Wood shattering about her failing barrier, Yennefer shot through the air, having all the magic of a particularly plump baker’s daughter. Her journey brought her crossing pews and plate glass windows to arc towards the very altar of the cathedral. She went over the heads of a dozen praying bishops and priests praying to be saved from her assault. Among them, she recognized  the head of the Church of the Eternal Fire himself, one Hierarch Cyrus Engelkid Hemmelfart, by his dazed expression and huge hat. Old, cruel, fanatical and more than a bit deranged, the bishop laughed as the witch who’d assaulted his cathedral went spinning right into the roaring, sacred flame of the eternal fire itself! 

 

“Behold brethren, a foul witch is tossed right into the fire! It is a sign, a sign from the Fire itself that she is corrupt! That she is venal, that she is a ** to dark powers and foreigners, a whore who...who...whores herself to foreigners and dark powers!” the ancient priest worked out, “So she will burn! Burn forever!”

 

“Gods, I’m going to die having to listen to a sermon!” Yennefer thought to herself, cursing her foolhardiness.

 

The Sorceress was spared too much pain by landing ass first hit into the marble bowl of the eternal fire, the huge flames whooshing up around her. The Sorceress had a second of blind panic, for to be seized by uneducated, unwashed and superstitious masses as a witch and burned in their blind panic was nearly as bad as growing old and ugly. But, a second later the dour sorceress made a startling discovery.

 

She wasn’t burning. In fact apart from the big bruise on her ass, she felt completely fine!

 

“This isn’t fire, the whole Eternal Fire isn’t fire at all,” she said to herself, tongue tasting the air, “in fact it’s...magic.”

 

The whole thing was magic. Perhaps fueled by belief or perhaps an ancient source of mana but she’d been tossed not onto her funeral pyre but instead into a damn dessert tray for her powers!

 

Smiling to herself, Yennefer did what she’d been practicing for months: consuming.

 

The eternal flame began to dim, shadows long denied rushing into the cathedral to the terror of its corrupt priests. Yennefer felt her mana reserves rise and rise...and then overflow...growing stronger than she’d ever been! With a cackle worthy of a fairy tale witch, the sorceress levitated easily out of the failing fire, skin starting to glow as more and more magic filled her up!

 

“A whore of dark powers you call me? A witch you call me? Fools, damned fools and old fools, liars and hypocrites I call you. I am Yennefer of Vengerburg, a victor of Sodden Hill and purer than you can imagine. Your fire loves me more than it ever did you!” she laughed, drawing yet more...and ignoring the first warning groan from her clothes, “now watch as I devour it all!”

 

Magic was nothing more than power. And power was nothing more than energy. And in the human body, energy was nothing more than fat.

 

The onrushing mana was immediately cached for future use, in the form of energy rich lard about Yennefer’s body. And as the power kept flowing, Yennefer started growing.

 

First her gloves got tight as her fingers and forearms plumped up, the leather groaning and her hand gestures getting harder and harder. There was a rip in her slashed upper sleeves as bingo wings and floppy biceps grew in, the pale skin bursting through white and black fabric. Lazy and flabby, her new pillowy arms were exposed as her sleeves disintegrated, rips even forming in the stitching of her gloves. 

 

“No, no no no,” Yennefer gasped in shock as she kept growing, the fat creeping onto her body from her fingers up.

 

Already the soft shoulders bulged outwards, any sign of collar bone vanishing. Her neck thickened until it pressed into the collar of her armor, which gave way with a pop, seam ticking the sagging droop of a third chin. The rosy chub of her cheeks rounded out, burying any sign of her old regalness. 

 

Breasts too big to easily manage at the start of the day grew warm and rushed forwards, gaining half their size again and shredding her armor’s buckles. The round tits bounced out, pulling Yennefer’s shoulders into a slump with their bowling ball size and heaving weight, switching from round to teardrop in a heartbeat. Her belly followed suit, the armor stretching and stretching, seams ripping in the brigantine.

 

Stretch Marks formed over her gut as it went from pampered paunch to the gut of a serious overeater. First the marks were white over an embarrassingly large tummy, one big as a pregnant girl’s and then turning purple as Yennefer kept going, her waistline expanding from that of a spoiled merchant daughter to a spoiled merchant’s wife who’d had nine pregnancies in a decade. For a moment her belt held, a painful vice with a meaty muffin top quivering above it. Then the leather at last gave out and her tummy sagged down, half covering her sex.

 

Yet for all the scope of tit growth and stretch of belly growth, Yennefer had always carried most of her weight lower. Saddle bags and hip fat spread wider and wider, keeping her skirt up even as its top button snapped and its belt failed, stretching the black fabric until her camel toe would have been visible had there been light. Until at last, even the gown failed, exposing Yennefer hanging naked in the air with a pair of door jammer hips a full four feet around, thick cellulite spreading across the awkward slope down to her embarrassing saddle bags. Her underwear became a torture device crueler than any inquisitor, lacey thong flossing her ass and vag as it stretched past anything its maker had ever expected. When it finally broke, the fabric hung in place, trapped by the equine scale ass that Yennefer had grown. Each bun was bigger than Yennefer’s head, first swelling out round and proud before slumping and sagging under their own weight, tiger stripes worthy of a hunting cat forming across the drooping buns, wide enough to be seen from the front.

 

Her fishnet tights held a heart beat, before snapping off their shredding garter belt, fat surging through the gaps. Black leather boots lasted a moment longer, diamonds of lardy pale flesh forming between brass buttons until they too failed and fell away. Yen’s nimble legs were now so fat they had a roll across their thigh and her delicate ankles had vanished completely, gobbled up by cankles. Even her feet were plumper!

 

The only garment that remained was the enchanted nilfgaardian choker about her neck, the very charm that was making her fatter stretching to not be buried by her triple chins.

 

Unable to believe her senses, the now morbidly obese Yennefer looked down in aghast, chins folding over themselves, in embarassed terror. She’d thought herself fat but that had been mere chubbiness. This on the other hand? She had to weigh twice her starting weight and half again, she’d packed on a hundred pounds from consuming that fire! She was obese, freakish, amongst the fattest women she’d ever seen, hideous, disgusting, huge, wide, immense, gigantic, ogrish, corpulent, swollen...Gods, she was nearly 300lbs!

 

And all of it had happened in perhaps ten seconds.

 

“I...I…,” Yen stammered trying to think of what to say now that she was both naked and immense before her enemies so flummoxed she drifted down to the ground.

 

Her knees and ankles immediately complained, a frame built to carry 110lbs not up to comfortably standing with 170lbs of excess on it! The short, wide, dense woman groaned at the feeling, realizing it was going to be with her for a very long time.

 

The Cult of Eternal Fire said it for her.

 

“The...the...the Chosen One!” the Hierarch gasped in shock, a lifetime of his own venial sins coming to fruition as he saw the coming of an ancient prophecy making him have a massive heart attack, fall over and die.

 

“The what?” the stunned ball of a sorceress asked from where she floated, plump fingers holding up the sagging apron of her gut.

 

“The chosen one, the chosen one, the chosen one!” the bishops gasped, stepping over their dead leader without missing a step, someone grabbing his big hat, “As the prophecies say, the drinker of the fire, the bringer of soft light, the chosen one, come to save us from the darkness!”

 

Before she could cast a spell or ask further, someone plopped the huge hierophant tiara onto Yennefer’s head and the senior surviving priests of the church all threw themselves to the floor, bowing and crying.

 

“Lead us, oh chosen one! Lead us!” they yelled in unison, “command us! Command us!”

 

Yennefer blinked her now piggish eyes, looking about in confusion as a growl escaped her stomach.

 

“How...how about a snack?” she asked before shaking her ebony locks and sagging chins,“And my daughter. Bring me my daughter! Bring me Princess Cirilla!”

 

The bowing bishops looked about in confusion.

 

“Princess Cirilla? But...she is not in our dungeons,” one said to their new divinely appointed leader.

 

Yennefer stared at him, literal daggers almost jumping from her eyes, “Then...then who the hell is locked up here!?”

[Batman76]

Work has been busy... And wrath if the righteous came out ...

[Batman76]

2 hours ago, Fit2Phatappreciater said:

I’ve been playing it too. Lots of good FA bait in that one

Yeah, the succubus companion is getting a story from me...

[Batman76]

On 9/18/2021 at 4:34 AM, Timthemajor said:

This story of yennefer and triss is soo good. Can't wait for the next chapter

I"m sorry it took so damn long to write!

Chapter 6: So Many Reunions You’ve got to Leave Town

 

Veretuza’s curriculum was designed to turn powerless, ugly, often deformed farm girls and street urchins into dominating, gorgeous, high status ladies fit to advise Queens and seduce Kings. Yennefer had been educated as much on social mores as she was on magic, she knew very well that stomping off with her shoulders set was a terrible display of uncontrolled anger far beneath her station. While her mind knew that, she was still too damn angry to stop herself.

 

“Impossible, I went through all this effort for that idiot!” she snarled inside her head as her new bishops told her of the prisoner’s identity.

 

Enraged, Yennefer went to turn on her heel...and almost fell over, dragged down by the immensity of her off balance ass. When thin, the sorceress had been dancer graceful. When chubby, she’d gotten a bit out of breath rushing up stairs. Now that she was full on obese, a mind used to piloting a svelte physique was in charge of moving about a lazy blob of ungainly lard. She had to use magic to keep from tumbling, cheeks crimson with embarrassment. 

 

“G-get me the key to his cell,” she snarled, a stutter born of an abused childhood almost returning at her shock, “...and some clothes. Something in black and or white.”

 

Fawning, the bishops and priests hurried to satisfy their new messiah. Yennefer had only a moment to wait, but in that time her belly began to growl and her knees complain. The hunger was annoying but even her century’s worth of snacking instincts weren’t yet enough to make her order food, not when she was this huge! She looked down at herself, so fat that her fat blocked her from seeing how fat she was!

 

This was beyond looking like a chubby merchant’s daughter. This was an obesity born only by the very richest women in full blown middle age, figures destroyed by falling metabolisms, too many pregnancies and emotionally devouring sweetmeats after their husbands had taken mistresses. Tentatively, hoping it was a mirage, Yennefer pinched the drooping sack of her apron gut. She couldn’t just feel the slack softness of her gut, she could feel the thick chunk of her fingers! Blinking her eyes, the mage took a deep breath, finding her inhalation partly limited by all of the fat on her heavy chest. Her face began to twitch, some emotion between despair and psychotic rage trying to form.

 

Thankfully for Yennefer’s dignity and the city’s safety, her new servants returned with robes. Long, white silks made for a vestal virgin, a high born noble woman who’d agreed to sacrifice ten years of youth to serve the Eternal Fire...of course, even an embarrassingly plump woman was a hundred pounds thinner than Yennefer!

 

“It will do,” she said, snapping her fingers and making it materialize upon her body.

 

She added a good deal of extra material from pure mana, an exercise that would have left her exhausted but not barely touched her. It was the only good news of the experiment, Yennefer still wasn’t sure how big she was and a robe meant to be loose was now skin tight, showing off her chubby ankles and pressing her immense cleavage up towards her chins, a canyon of cleavage on display. Across the belly it clung so tight, Yennefer’s belly button could be seen and her stretched nipples almost burst through the fabric.

 

“I am...somewhat satisfied with this, my good servants,” she barely managed, burning a little more magic so she could breath in the too tight clothes, “let word go out that all the Witch Hunters are to surrender immediately to the crime lord Sigi Reuven, who is to be brought to me with the Sorceress Triss Merigold, immediately. And that all mages imprisoned are to be brought to me at once! Now, I must go speak with this highly valued prisoner…”

 

She went to snatch the key from one bishop’s hand, coming up short because her range of motion was now so much shorter. Scowling, she stepped forwards to grab it, belly brushing the old man’s robe and turned, carefully now and walked from the high altar down to the dungeon stairs...then stopped at the realization she wasn’t walking. 

 

She was waddling.

 

Every short step made her thighs grind against each other and gigantic butt shaking side to side. Thick slabs of lard packed so tight together each step was a chore. Swallowing, breathing deeply but not yet so fast, she spent a little more magic to give herself a much wider skirt, ignoring years of fashionably tight clothing. That didn’t help, clothing wasn’t the problem it was her thighs, thicker than her old waist by far. It didn’t matter how she placed her feet, not that she could see them, Yennefer had no option but to waddle…

 

“Walking around is too annoying at this size anyway,” the sorceress reasoned, using magic to levitate herself, “It’s not like I can love all this lard by exercise. Once I find Ciri, being skinny is just a finger snap away! It’s not laziness to levitate, just...common sense.”

 

She floated down the stairs, by passing the normal dungeons where heretics and rogue mages were captured and down to the ultra high security cell. Yennefer could tell it was made of magic blocking dimeretium as she approached, the spell keeping her up failed as she approached, fat feet hitting the ground. She swallowed in nervousness, feeling her connection to magic fade away in the presence of so much magical power and trembling, terrified suddenly of treachery or assault, especially when she was so huge and weak.

 

“Show some backbone girl, just because you’re fat doesn’t mean you’re weak!” she chastized herself, unlocking the door.

 

It opened to reveal a palatial room, not a dungeon cell. A handsome man sat on a plush bed, nimble fingers plucking a lute as he tried out experimental tunes. He turned, face surprised to see a comely if extremely fat woman literally filling the door frame.

 

“Wait, you aren’t the Hierarch!” Jaskier, also known as Dandelion said, “You know he said only he was Holy enough to hear my songs...but for a maiden fair as  you, I think I could be persuaded to let you stay and listen to me prepare for my next masterpiece.”

 

Yennefer forgot the lack of magic. She forgot the hundred and seventy pounds of blubber. She forgot the lust for Triss and Geralt bubbling in her heart. She forgot, almost, her care for her daughter.

 

Because all she felt at that moment, was blinding hatred.

 

“Dandelion, you fucking idiot bard!” she shrieked, voice rising from its new depth.

 

“Um, do I know you?” the pleasantly imprisoned musician asked, ‘I think I would remember a maiden of your ...impressive figure but you...wait, you sound familiar…”

 

Yennefer stormed into the room, fear of the dimeretium tossed aside. Her hips brushed the door, the taut and damaged robe snagged in the door jam. The silk ripped away, Yennefer’s massive, marbled hips shaking side to side as her thighs and buns clapped noisily. 

 

“I thought they had Ciri imprisoned here! You dumbfuck!” Yennefer shrieked, grabbing the lute from Dandelion’s hand, “I stormed this place by myself, killed a hundred men, got thrown about by a golem, became a messiah and gained a hundred pounds to save her and it was you all the time! You simpering, foppish, petulant, philandering, rotten dicked pile of crotch leavings!”

 

“Hey, that’s an expensive lute! A stradivarius!” Jaskier said as she tore the loot away, shoulders cowering away from the much shorter, much wider woman, noticing at last the two things that hadn’t changed: violet eyes and raven hair, “wait...Yennefer...when did you get so fat?”

 

Dandelion was an old friend of Geralt’s, there at the witcher and the sorceress’ first tumultuous meeting that had set the tone for all the others. He was forty, looked thirty, acted twenty and judged things like he wasn’t even ten. And, realizing that he’d put his foot deeper than he ever had in things, understood he was going to die.

 

“Err...I mean, did you change your hair? It really shows off your…,” the panicking bard stammered, trying not to say things the things that came bubbling out, “cellulite cratered thighs...I mean your triple chin...um...no, that’s not what I …”

 

It didn’t matter that Yennefer was in truly terrible condition, panting from a long exchange of words. It didn’t matter that she was in a dimeretium lined room where her powers wouldn’t work. It didn’t matter that he had ten inches on her and was a man in good shape.

 

When someone’s eyes flashed like Yennefer’s purple pupils were, they couldn’t be stop by the Gods themselves.

 

“By every God worshiped in the sphere I’m going to kill you!!!” Yennefer screamed, swinging the lute.

 

The sorceress’ once quick reflexes and body control had faded with her cheek bones. She had no sense of where her body ended and her muscles were struggling just to move her rapidly increased bulk around. But fury gave her a great deal of precision, enough to smash the lute across Jaskier’s testicles. 

 

He gave a great yelp and fell down onto the ground, contorting himself into a ball with his arms over his head. Yennefer brought the lute up and down, up and down, up and down until Triss walked into the room…

 

                    ….

 

Triss Merigold had had far worse battles than taking Novigrad.

 

The fast moving coup against the Witch Hunters hadn’t seen her injured or even seriously endangered. Those who preferred attacking helpless women and alchemists through a cloud of dimeretium powder didn’t stand well against an awoken sorceress and mobs of expert gang killers. She’d hit one watch house, then another and another, with sleeping spells and the occasional dart of fire, killing a few hated inquisitors and putting many others into a sleep that a cutlass made permanent. Triss had even had time to stop by a bakery and buy a few bags to treat Yennefer with, although she’d not been able to stop her self from sampling far too many of the delicious Novigrad breakfast pastries, to the point that her corset pinched her bloated belly. While the redhead wanted her abs back someday, she had to admit that as long as diet played any roll in weight loss, she was stuck chubby.

 

When the grand bell in the city cathedral had begun to ring, she and the criminals running the coup had feared a counter attack. But it being a bell of celebration took them by surprise, especially when senior clerics had begun running out ordering the city guard surrender to Djikstra and his men and that any sorceress in the city was summoned to the cathedral. Triss had had just enough information to know it wasn’t a trap, so she was extremely confused to see so much Yennefer beating Dandelion with a lute.

 

“Yen I...unnnnnn,” the other sorceress asked, staring at the mammoth pair of cellulite studded, sweat coated cheeks jiggling and bouncing as Yennefer beat the shit out of their boyfriend’s friend, “unnn……”

 

As a sorceress, Triss had been subjected to a regime of intelligence boosting spells during adolescence that made her a genius rarely found in nature. But, the chunky ginger’s brilliant mind almost turned off from pure lust as she watched the obese, panting form of her girlfriend swing and gasp, her panties getting absolutely soaked. Yennefer chubby was irresistible, Yennefer fat as a pig was a goddess! She stared, plump lips hanging open in fascination at the jiggling, reverberating, wobbling, jostling acre of ass fat on display from Yennefer’s torn gown. The plump pair of buns she’d gotten to know so well had been eclipsed, swelling up in size as Yennefer went from just chubby to genuine pear.

 

The dark haired sorceress’ saddle bags were big as her old ass cheeks had been. The girlishly pert buns had grown a thick covering of cellulite, cratered as the surface of the moon, and had begun to sag, going from unbelievably round to resting against her tubby thighs. With every swing of Yennefer’s round arms, ripples went through the massive butt and Triss would have abandoned her artificial youth and aged to her fifties just to put her face against the ivory pillows.

 

It wasn’t until the top of the lute broke on Dandelion’s hip and Yennefer took a moment to pant that Triss moved into action, mostly to make sure her girlfriend didn’t have a heart attack.

 

“S-stupid, l-lazy, v-vagrant,” Yennefer wheezed, heart hammering a mile a minute and vision swimming, “If, ugh, if this were anyother room I’d *Pant* have you...inside out...or *huff* turned into a weasel…”

 

“Yennefer, stop, you’re going to kill yourself,” Triss said, stepping in and looking down, realizing that the already petite Yennefer had gotten even shorter, “Please, stop!”

 

“Oh thank the Gods, Merigold I’d kiss your shoe if she hadn’t split my lip!” Dandelion gasped, the cowardly bard quivering.

 

Triss spared the peacock of a man a glance. Jaskier was a bit bruised but mostly unharmed, Yennefer didn’t have the muscle mass to deliver a real beating and all that was hurt was his pride. If he’d stood up at any point he could have easily escaped.

 

“Shut up! I don’t know what you did to make her do this, but it’s surely well earned,” the taller Triss said, grabbing the shaft of the lute as Yennefer swung it again.

 

Triss, even out of condition, was much stronger than Yennefer had ever been. She held the lute easily, but Yennefer was so angry she kept tugging on it, fighting her girlfriend pointlessly for control. Marigold was far from her old athletic self, but with loose pants hiding her lower half and a corset taking in her gut/pressing up her bosom she just looked a bit thick, whereas the half naked Yennefer in her ripped dress, now transparent with sweat, was clearly obese.

 

“This heap of idiocy got me fat and then called me fat! He deserves death!” Yennefer panted, “Just let me kill him!”

 

“Yennefer, stop, you’re going to stroke out. Think about this!” Triss suggested, easily holding the instrument, “You shouldn’t be engaging in such ...exerting...activity when you’re...so fat…”

 

Turning the shorter, wider sorceress around was making Triss’ brain stop working. Her friend’s lovely, sharp face was so round she was barely recognizeable. Her breasts so big she made Triss look flat and her belly so bulging that Triss felt skinny for the first time in weeks. A cold, horny sweat flushed the red head’s sunkissed skin, especially her own merely chunky waist which was pressed tight into Yennefer’s bulging torso. Triss hadn’t met to bump bellies, but her raven haired friend just expanded outwards so much...

 

“I...I’m not that...fat,” Yennefer gasped back, the blatant statement of her bulk infuriatingly turning her on.

 

Triss Merigold, carrying nearly forty excess pounds and so out of condition she’d never show her face in polite society, was calling her fat! The very nerve of it, when Yennefer could look up to see Triss’ prominent double chin and puffy cheeks, to see how her too big breasts were pushed up in a vain attempt for their freckled valley to distract from how Triss’ fupa hung out of her corset. Triss needed a drastic diet to call anyone fat...save for Yennefer.

 

The Sorceress could feel every ounce of her sudden gain. Her muscles screamed with the effort of swinging a lute at her size, arms trembling and legs threatening to buckle. Her lungs burned and her sweat poured from her body in a desperate attempt to keep her cool, even as her heart thundered so loudly in her ears she could barely hear Triss’ insult.

 

“Yennefer, you’re one of the fattest women I’ve ever seen,” Triss insisted, running one finger tip across the stacked rolls of Yennefer’s bulging gut, plunging it up to the knuckle between the deep, moist crevices, “if it wasn’t for your eyes and beauty mark, I’d walk by you on the street, because there is no way any sorceress, cursed or not could ever, ever, get so immensely, enormously, undeniably, unhealthily, dangerously obese.”

 

Triss hand moved lower on the shorter woman, brushing her clit. A soft moan left the immense sorceress’ plump lips, purple eyes crossing in pleasure. She took a deep gasp, feeling how immensely wet she was. She’d been dangerously insulted, called fat to her face and yet...and yet...it was turning her on so much...

 

“Jaskier, leave the room,” Yennefer murmured, pressing into Triss, chubby fingers fumbling with the laces of her friend’s corset, “tell any priests we’ll be...busy for half an hour…communing…”

 

The moment the bruised bard had closed the door, Yennefer found herself knocked onto the bed. With her ass big as it was, she was dangerously bottom heavy, the immense buns pulling her downwards and back. Beneath her, the bed groaned,, a warning that she was now big enough furniture’s resilience needed to be considered. 

 

“Gods above, how did this happen?” Triss gasped, pressing into the immense sorceress, ripping away her clothes.

 

“The Holy Fire...I think I...absorbed it somehow. I’m far more powerful than I’ve ever been but, aslo, immensely fatter,” the now perpetually out of breath Yennefer gasped, trying to sit up and finding her own bulk pushing her down, “let’s leave the room, find some place our magic works so we can have some real fun…”

 

She tried getting up, belly splitting into ten rolls and pushing her down. Triss began tearing away her own clothes, stopping at lingerie panties and corset. Yennefer moaned to see her friend, Triss was looking thick and a bit beefy, a suggestion of strength under her softness but overfed beyond what exercise could burn. The tall red head fondled her, hand sinking into the thick, meaty rolls, seeing how far the belly could be pushed, how far the love handles could be squeezed.

 

“No, I think we can have all the fun we need right here,” the redhead sighed, bending down to kiss her girlfriend’s cellulite coated thighs, “because, if you somehow absorbed the Eternal Fire, that would make you the most powerful sorceress in the world, wouldn’t it? All of this blubber is just...energy waiting to be used…”

 

Yennefer moaned. The idea of her own power was intoxicating to her, the truth ringing into her mind. She, born hated and abused, now had the power to change the world, to save her daughter, to do anything…

 

“And we can’t have that, can we?” Triss asked, leaning into bite Yennefer’s lowest most roll of belly fat, hard enough to leave teeth imprints.

 

“W-what?” Yennefer gasped in sudden shock.

 

Triss stood over her, undoing her corset, enough to let her heavy tear drop breasts plop out and her chunky stomach to relax fully. She went over to her cloak, pulling a few small bags from her dropped belongings. Before she turned, Yennefer observed how lack of exercise had really deflated her once pert cheeks and how Triss was as bloated as she’d ever seen…

 

Which was saying something, given how the pair had spent more than a week gorging dawn to dusk.

 

“Yennefer of Vengerberg. The bad girl of the lodge of sorceresses, stubborn beyond any measure and driven to a fault,” Triss listed, “but that’s a mask, isn’t it Yennefer? You’re not like this, if you’d been born loved you could embrace who you want to be, couldn’t you?”

 

Yen blinked, unsure what was happening, “I’m...what are you talking about. I love my power, the thought of having more, I can do so much…”

 

“So much submitting,” Triss told her with a smile, pulling out a sugary donut and placing it to Yennefer’s lip, “because after so long of being the perfect little beauty, all you really wanted was to be a big, fat cow. Submissive to your feeder and eager for spankings and feedings, isn’t it? This room reveals what you really would be without power…, lazy, weak and gluttonous…”

 

“I...I am not,” the prone, confused mage denied staring at the donut hovering an inch from her mouth, drool forming on her lips.

 

Yennefer didn’t need to eat. She’d gained over a hundred pounds and had been fat even before that. She needed a desperate diet, not more fried, sugary junk...and yet...she was so hungry...so so hungry. She wanted to fling that donut out of here with telekinesis, but inside this room she was powerless, nothing more than a bloated pig...who was so hungry...and thinking of how much she wanted that food just made her wetter and wetter…

 

“Then don’t eat this donut,” Triss smiled evilly, “but we both know you will. For all we sorceress’ pretend to be prim and healthy, without our magic we’re just pigs. We need something to give us fulfillment and for us, for us its each other and food. We’ll never be skinny again, not until I can get an amulet of weight loss and you can get that Nilfgardian choker off...so take a moment and revel in what we can be without an ounce of magic between all five hundred pounds of us…”

 

The dark haired mage wanted to deny it all. To say she didn’t need the addicting, fatty junk...but her hand was already shoving it into her mouth, jelly splattering over her cheeks. She moaned and moaned harder when Triss slowly, lovingly placed the dildo inside her. Thanks to the dimeretium, it didn’t vibrate, but Yennefer barely needed it to.

 

“Now, you’re a big girl, don’t tax yourself. Just lay back…,” Triss grinned, “and think of how good this feels…”

 

…..

 

Yennefer came and a little while later, dawn came too, bringing changes with it.

 

Novigrad’s old theocracy was less destroyed and more...reformed. Preachers went out, telling the masses that sorceresses, rather than evil witches to be despised, were in fact, divine bearers of the Light of Heaven. Mages were to be lauded, for they were champions of the light against the corrupt power of cruel kings and evil emperors, for the Chosen of the Eternal Fire had come to bring a golden age.

 

Of course, this rapid tournabout brought some consternation, with some citizens whining of Black Magic and sorcery. Once the cathedral was filled with prominent citizens, who witnessed the endless glory of the Chosen Maiden, a green eyed young woman with ashen hair and an athletic figure. A new fervor spread through the city, helped greatly by the Church holding an enormous feast of previously proscribed food, featuring hundreds of deserts. Beggar and merchant alike gorged themselves sick, not knowing it was food summoned from the aether in a vast display of magic by the known and feared sorceress Yennefer of Vengerberg…

 

“That is...a quite impressive feat of magic,” Djikstra observed, looking out the main window of a newly opened Inn down onto the city’s main square, where a hundred yard table was still laden with food, “the bakers guild will be furious if it lasts.”

 

No longer an outlaw, but the Church’s new minister of security, the mountain sized spy master looked like a million pieces of silver, clad in fine hose and tabard.

 

“The enchantment will wear off at dawn,” Yennefer said, “even I don’t have enough magic to fuel it forever. That cost me an entire pound of weight to fuel.”

 

A thick fingered hand patted her pampered stomach, which didn’t seem smaller. Yennefer had changed herself into a dress magically fitted to her body, a loose gown that draped over her ludicrous curves. The 300lb enchantress was sat on a love seat, girthy hips filling it to the brim and sipping a huge cup of coffee.

 

“Well, even though it did, you’ve got them eating out of the palm of your hand,” Triss added, pouring rich, cold cream into the mug, “so what next now that you have one of the biggest cities in the world under your pretty thumb?”
 

“That’s for you two to decide. You’re the one who managed to organized all the mages escaping Triss,” Yennefer told her, watching as her girlfriend poured sugar into her cup, “and you can organie them coming back. Besides, the city will need someone to put up illusions of Ciri in the Church…”

 

Unwilling to be known as the fattest woman in the North, Yennefer had used some misdirection and mind control. Being a chosen one made her a target, so instead she’d created a very really and semi-permanent illusion of her daughter Ciri as she last remembered her: a beautiful, athletically graceful blonde. She’d done it without thinking, trying to come up with a perfect girl and only able to think about her still missing daughter.

 

“I’m going to find Ciri,” Yennefer finished, “once Dandelion tells us where she went.”

 

Jaskier, who technically owned the inn, as sat in the room, brought in for lack of not knowing what else to do with him. His girlfriend, a beautiful and far wiser blonde songbird called Priscilla spoke for him, as Dandelion was looking forlornly at the lute Yennefer had broken on his balls.

 

“Ciri was here, yes but she was separated from us,” Priscilla explained, her eyes glued to the sorceress’ gigantic curves with admiration, “we’d planned a heist but it was interrupted by Whoreson’s thugs and then the Church guard. There was a lot of blood, I barely escaped and Ciri had to teleport when the Wild Hunt appeared.”

 

“Why was she even in Novigrad?” Yennefer asked, “what drew her to a city where mages were being persecuted?”

 

“Well, she wouldn’t say it, I think she was embarrassed,” Priscilla admitted, “but she was after an artifact needed to undo a curse.”

 

“A curse?” Yennefer snapped, sitting up with a lurch and a burst of magic to hoist her girth up.

 

She waddled over, thighs clapping and the seams of her tent like dress rasping.

 

“What curse? Who would  dare!?” the brunette demanded, righteous anger filling her surely as pastries.

 

“Well, I can’t say for sure but she was gathering this box of amulets,” Priscilla said, holding up a small wooden box and trying not to drool at so much immense sorceress.

 

Yennefer was fatter than any woman the bard had ever seen, wide as a draft horse. And yet she carried herself like a great beauty, the mixed signals making Priscilla cross her legs to avoid anyone seeing the damp spot on her tights.

 

“Amulets...these are weight loss amulets, weight loss and muscle builders,” Yennefer said with a frown, looking down on the box, “why would Ciri need these?”

 

Priscilla bit her lip sheepishly, “Well...I hate to say this but...she was, not that it looked bad on her or that it was wrong for a lady to gain weight. Indeed, it looked magnificent on her and she was better for it but...Ciri looked a bit plump to me.”

 

Yennefer’s already ivory face paled further. Ciri, fat? Her Ciri, the scrawny thin Witcher girl who was not but sinew and gristle? That was impossible, absurd, as insane as ...well, a sorceress getting fat…Yenn looked down on herself, seeing nothing but a pale expanse of bulging lard. 

 

Well, it had been several years. Ciri wasn’t a little girl anymore, but a woman grown and one who’d been hiding on some other world for years. Who knew what had happened to make her come here?

 

“Well...she must have been cursed then,” Yennefer muttered, “that’s the only explanation and she’ll need my help. Did she say where she was going, Velen or the Isles?”

 

“She said she had to get the amulets to someone in the Isles,” the bard said, unable to look past Yennefer’s grain sack cleavage to her piggish purple eyes, “but she didn’t say where…”

 

“Then that’s where I’m going,” Yennefer huffed, “immediately.”

 

She tried to turn on her heel, an old dramatic maneuver...and failed to take into account how fat her ass had grown during the last twelve hours. The sleepy, immense enchantress’ ass knocked over a potted plant and the small table that held it, both crashing to the ground. She looked embarrassed a moment and then waddled off, as fast as she could which wasn’t very quick.

 

Triss cleaned up the mess with a bit of magic and then hurried off, catching Yennefer oh so carefully going down the stairs. Seeing the once graceful brunette carefully step, unable to see her feet, made Triss giddy but she put such thoughts aside for a moment.

“Yennefer, wait. Are you sure you want to run off alone?” Triss asked, “A girl your size could hurt herself pretty easily. Why don’t you wait for Geralt to get here at least? I had a message from Keira, who’s been in Velen all this time, that she ran into him and both are on their way here. It shouldn’t be more than a week.”

 

“I’m...honestly, I don’t want to see Geralt like this. Yet, I need to work up to it and think about...all three of us. But I’ll be fine,” Yennefer said, looking over one plump shoulder and not having quite enough room to turn on the narrow stairs, “I’m stronger than ever even if I can’t run. I’m bringing a good health amulet with me to take care of the blood pressure and a muscle growth one to deal with being so heavy though. I can’t begin to wonder how Ciri managed to get fat…”

 

Triss smiled, “Probably taking after her mom and big sister, if anything. It seems easiest to gain weight when happy though, so maybe its a good sign. On the other hand…”

 

Triss leaned past her obese girlfriend, snagging a weight loss amulet from the box, “I don’t want to rub it in your face, but I need to get skinny again….no, that’s a lie. I do want to rub it in your face. In a couple weeks, I’ll have gotten thin enough to have abs again and you’ll still be obese.”

 

Chubby pale cheeks went crimson, “Triss, not in public…”

 

The sorceress was learning that nothing, nothing got her hornier than Triss bullying her for her weight.

 

“Hey, we’re on a staircase not in public, but I got you something else,” Triss said, fishing in one of her belt pouches.

 

“Not more sweets Triss, my teeth are hurting you’ve been pumping so much sugar into me,” Yennefer sighed, licking her lips involuntarily.

 

“Oh its not that, although I did get you a new enchanted cookie box,” Triss smiled, pulling that trinket out, “I got you this.”

 

It was a thin silver bracelet, with a lock and a small key. When Yennefer took it, it was cold and burning to the touch.

 

“What is...a dimeretium bracelet? Triss, what the hell!” Yennefer hissed in shock.

 

“Just in case you ever want to feel...powerless,” Triss told her, bending over and kissing her on the lips, “I’m sure you’ll come easier that way. Just don’t lose the key.”

 

Yennefer frowned...but didn’t toss the gift, putting it into her purse, “Fine...but its not as if...I want to use it or anything...anyway, I’m off. I need to find a ship sailing to Skellegie before the tide goes out, its too far to teleport…you’ve been a life saver Triss and thank you for...well, for awakening something in me.”

 

“Awaken something in you? I thought I liked skinny girls before this,” Triss smiled, watching Yennefer waddle laboriously down the stairs.

 

She didn’t see Yennefer’s smile though as she turned away and it would be weeks before Triss checked the ‘weight loss’ amulet to see that Yennefer had carefully altered it into a ‘weight gain’ amulet during her brief solitude...

[Batman76]

39 minutes ago, >_< 0_0 said:

Oh no, poor Dandelion 😱 you did him dirty 💀

I can’t wait to see how Ciri’s doing. 

Gaining a hundred pounds really made her mad

[Batman76]

On 9/29/2021 at 1:00 PM, maxis192 said:

imho this is developing into one of your best stories 👌

A while back it was your story "Epic" that gave me the final push to consider writing weight gain stories too.
This one would do the same trick: Love the descriptions and the dynamic between them and the imagination of that soft jiggling Yennefer looking all cute exerting herself is priceless!

Why thank you! And I miss Epic, I just felt I'd written myself into a corner.

 

Which is why I decided to alter this chapter and rewrite it. Instead of filler between Geralt and Yennefer meeting, let's cut right to the point...

 

Chapter 7: Old Loves, New Waistlines

 

“Are you sure you should be eating those still, Keira?” Geralt asked as he pulled back on Roach’s reins. 

 

His trusty mare snorted, the tough roan nervous in Novigrad’s cobbled streets. The Witcher had enough time to slide off the horse’s back, loosen her girth and tie her to the hitching post before he got an answer from his companion.

 

“I am *gulp* completely sure, these are absolutely divine pastries. Among the best ever made and after a year of surviving off the scraps of a rural backwater, I am going to eat as many of them as I want *munch* want to,” Keira Metz answered, pulling yet another frosting heavy cinnamon roll from an embroidered bag at her saddle horn, “besides, you said they weren’t cursed.”

 

“Errmmm, I said they probably weren’t cursed,” the yellow eyed man sighed, “I wouldn’t trust my own mother if I found her in the Crones cabins…”

 

Velen had been a hellscape. 

 

The retreating Temerian armies had burned most of the fields before taking Redanian service, then the Nilfgardian hosts had stolen most of what was left. Whole battlefields of unburied corpses had drawn monsters like flies, with the armies focusing on each other, ghouls and griffons and nekkers had bred to numbers not seen in centuries. Geralt had had to fight, crawl and run his way across the war ravaged area, going from starving village to starving village in his hunt for his daughter. Imagine his surprise when he’d met a familiar face in one village, a vaunted member of the Lodge of Sorceresses hiding from Nilfgardians and witch hunters as a village wise woman.

 

“Yes well...there’s nothing magical about the treats,” Keira said, “and they aren’t having a bad effect on me.”

 

A week ago, Geralt and Keira had formed a working partnership. Keira would help him track Ciri, Geralt would deal with any rats they found and help her to safety. A few cleared ruins later and they’d tracked his daughter to horrible site deep in Velen’s marsh, the home of unbelievably cruel ancient druids who fed upon human flesh, luring in desperate orphans with trails of sweet treats. The pair hadn’t been able to deal with the Crones, but had driven them off after getting information that Ciri (who they had called a “plump little dumpling”) had run towards Skellige. 

 

And Keira had stolen the enchanted treat bag, so the relic couldn’t be used again. 

 

“...I’m sure,” Geralt said as she hopped off her horse.

 

Keira wasn’t the magical killing machine Yennefer or Triss could be. She was an expert healer and researcher, almost annoyingly intelligent. But the blonde was if anything vainer than either of Geralt’s paramours. A pampered rich girl before her recruitment to the Mages, Keira was used to spoiling herself with every luxury imaginable. Even hiding in a backwater, she’d had a fortune of magical relics with her, including an entire pocket dimensions consisting of a hot tub. Her idea of a village hedge witch disguise was a blue silk vest with a nipple depth neckline and a cinched waist, showing off her girlish physique. 

 

“So you can *munch* stop suggesting me eating them is a problem,” Keira insisted swallowing the treat, carefully putting the treat bag at her belt and hopping off the horse, “besides, now that I’m back in civilization, I can eat at a restaurant whenever I want.”

 

When she landed, the sorceress tugged on her clothes to readjust the rather taut fabric. Doing so caused her plump chest to pop entirely into view, pink nipples shining in the spring sunlight. Geralt averted his eyes and coughed, Keira glancing down in surprise and pulling her gown back up.

 

“And get some new clothes, having to clean this with magic has shrunk it,” Keira grumbled.

 

“Or you’ve put on a little weight,” Geralt said bluntly.

 

Keira had been rail thin when Geralt had first met her, barely getting enough calories per day to survive, falling beneath the 115lb weight she’d kept for seventy five years. Since getting the treat bag a week earlier, the blonde enchantress had been noticeably growing by the day. Breasts that had flattened from starvation were now larger than ever, plump tear drops as big as Geralt was aware of Triss Merigold’s ever being. The laces on her vest were clearly straining, soft white flesh visible from nipples to navel, a muffin top ring of creamy fat rising above her belt, which was out two notches and could do with a third. If she hadn’t put on twenty pounds, it was only because she’d put on thirty instead.

 

“Me? Put on weight?” Keira scoffed, tugging her vest down to try and cover her stomach and exposing a nipple again, “don’t be absurd. I’ve never weighed over a hundred and fifteen pounds, I doubt I weigh one hundred and ten now.”

 

“I also doubt that you weight one ten,” Gerlat told the plumping enchantress, “but let’s not get distracted. I hated to use them but your portals got us to Novigrad faster than I expected, we beat our schedule by nearly a week.”

 

“Well, now that Yennefer has the city freed of its tyrannical theocracy, how could I not?” Keira said, “besides, I know you were desperate to get back to her. I don’t need to be a mind reader like she is to know that.”

 

Geralt tied off Keira’s horse, lest the absent minded genius let it wander away. Doing so gave him a good look at the blonde in profile, noticing how paunchy she was. The witcher shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

 

Ever since seeing Yennefer with a little extra, he hadn’t been able to get the thought out of his head of how delicious the sorceress looked. Keira had suggested stress relief sex between the two of them, the sorcress hadn’t been laid in months, but Geralt had refused because, after seeing a Yennefer plump enough she wore a corset, a rail thin woman wasn’t too his taste. But now that Keira was growing by the day…

 

“I’m not desperate to see Yennefer,” Geralt denied.

 

“Of course you are. The big gruff Witcher and the heartless ice Queen, both of whom are so lovey dovey with each other they always go back. It’s adorable,” Keira teased, fishing out another snack for herself, at least her fifteenth of the morning, “no wonder that foolish love ballad Dandelion wrote was so popular.”

 

“Jaskier is ...Jaskier,” the witcher grunted, “as for Yennefer...yes, of course I’m attracted to her. We were together for longer than either of us has been with anyone else, but...it’s not like I’m going to be shocked to see her.”

 

The thought of Yennefer, so unbelievably close now that they were in the city, was filling Geralt’s mind to the brim. The smell of her lilac and goose berry perfume, the icy lash of her shrewish tongue, the violet stare that demanded not just respect but outright worship, who when angry was a living hurricane, all to protect the fragile girl inside her, who just wanted to love and be loved.

 

And the thought of Yennefer’s soft thighs pushing through her fraying tights, of plump breasts about to pop free of a corset. Of her pampered tummy ripping its way through a snug gown, face going beet red in embarrassment. Of her hands unconsciously going again and again to a cookie tin, cheeks bulging with treats as she nervously explained why she’d gained weight and the immense relief in her eyes when he’d said she looked beautiful and showed her what he’d do to her if they’d had the time…

 

Alright, maybe he was love sick for her, but that didn’t meant Kiera had to know.

 

“Anyway, best I find her quickly. If anyone will know, it’s Dandelion. Unless he’s gotten himself arrested,” Geralt sighed, going to the Inn’s front door.

 

Keen mutant senses smelled the love of his life before the door opened. Geralt smelled the lilac and goose berry perfume over the faint ozone of frequent magic use and knew it had to be Yennefer...although there was a strange amount of sweat in her scent too. The grim, scarred witcher wished he’d had time to get his beard trimmed or his griffon school armor cleaned...and was distracted by the creak of floor boards. As if multiple people were on the other side of the door…

 

“Ugh, fuck stairs,” Yennefer of Vengerberg’s voice growled, slightly deeper, from a three hundred pound frame, “out of the way hedgeknight, I’ve...oh on my power…”

 

“Yenn…,” the surprised monster hunter grunted, “in a rush?”

 

Geralt had wondered if Yennefer would be a little plumper when he was her, it was possible given the cursed amulet she was forced to wear. He had not expected her to be...huge. 

 

“G-g-geralt,” Yennefer stuttered, sucking in her stomach a bit as if that could hide this massive change.

 

That little starter belly was a 40+ inch beer keg, bigger than any pregnancy the infertile sorceress could have hoped for, straining a tent sized pinstripe dress. Newly plump breasts were big as her head, pulling her shoulders downwards even as the tear drop mountains surged out. Yennefer’s sharp face was round as a pie, with a jowl plump as her old breasts and cheeks so chubby her huge purple eyes were smaller. Puffed sleeves hid her surely beefy upper arms, but bare hands were soft and plump, no ring on them. Womanly hips had inflated to a ludicrous size, their equine girth filling the inn’s doorway, half an inch from touching the wooden frame. The taut ass he remembered was so big he could see it from the front, the largest rear end he’d seen on a human.

 

She looked like a goddess. Decadent, immense, swollen with power and pride. Involuntarily, thoughts of thrusting into this feminine hillock came to his mind and Yennefer just as involuntarily read them, face going tomato red.

 

“I...um…ohhhhh,” the brunette enchantress gasped, eyes briefly crossing.

 

Witcher senses weren’t needed to see her nipples pop through the taut fabric but Geralt could suddenly smell how very, very wet she was.

 

“Yennefer? Where? I’ve got some research notes I need checked,” Keira began, walking up with a folder in one hand and a treat in another.

 

The blonde looked left and right, gaze gradually settling on the immensely, enormously obese woman before her. Keira’s blue eyes widened and her cheeks reddened, she looked away from Yennefer’s sprawling cleavage before looking back, eyes flickering back up to the shorter enchantress’ piggish orbs.

“Oh...oh my!” Keira gasped, the science minded magician taken a back, “Yennefer! You, you…”

 

The more powerful mage’s cheeks flushed, not in arousal now and she tried to stand taller...which wasn’t easy, given how short she was.

 

“Yes, I know its quite the change and I didn’t quite expect it,” Yennefer said, trying to suck in her stomach and push out her chest, “but I have to live with it now, at least for a while…”

 

“You finally got pregnant!” Keira gasped, hugging the squishy mage, “Oh I’m so happy for you! How did you regrow your uterus? Mutagenic stem cells? Draconic implantation? Genie wish?”

 

An aghast Yennefer could only stare, jaw hanging open as Keira pulled back. Geralt could smell her embarrassment. The brunette had wanted to get pregnant for fifty years, spending fortunes on failed treatments that had brought not but disappointment. To be mistaken for pregnant now…

 

“I’m...I”m,” Yennefer tried to say, only for Keira to put a hand on her stomach.

 

“Oh you’re so huge! You must be ready to pop!” the oblivious Keira giggled, taking Yennefer’s arms and leading her back into the Inn, “Gods, lets go sit down and get something to eat. A woman in your condition standing around, hunting for Ciri...that girl better appreciate what you’ve done for her! And Geralt, why didn’t you tell me you’d knocked her up at last! Gods, I thought you witchers were infertile. To think I almost fucked you without protection...although...Yennefer, would you mind if we give your little one a younger sibling?”

 

Stunned into silence, Yennefer shot a psychic message to her lover, staring imploringly over her soft shoulder at him as Keira led her to a table:

 

“Geralt, for the love of our daughter, fucking help me! If she gets me eating, I won’t be able to stop…”

 

It took a second for Geralt to think. He’d been focused on Yennefer’s couch cushion buns, the jiggling lard lumps fighting for space in her taut dress like two cats in a bag.

 

“I might like seeing you unable to stop eating,” Geralt replied smugly, “you, the most prim and put together mage on the continent, eating like a pig at the trough.

 

Two purple eyes glared at him, as unrelentingly furious as he remembered Yennefer being. It was hard to remember when dealing with such a small...formerly small woman, but despite looking like a noble maiden at her first dance, or a baker’s spoiled daughter behind the counter now, Yennefer was one of the most powerful beings on the continent, her magic as merciless as a hurricane. She might desire to be loved, but she’d settle for any sort of revenge, no matter how petty.

 

The shorter mage took Keira’s hand, pulling her old colleague up short, “I’m not pregnant Keira, I’m just fat.”

 

“You? Fat?” Keira asked, as if she hadn’t been leaning into the brunettes lardy expanse for a minute now, “but...how did you get this way?”

 

“I’d say one bite at a time, but a hundred and fifty pounds of it just sort of happened,” the obese Yennefer smiled, dimples showing, “but its not so bad, really. For one thing, I don’t have to worry about watching my appetite anymore. I’ll take you up on that offer for lunch...but two things.”

 

“Not so bad? Not so bad?” Keira asked, stunned, “you’re...well, I admit,  your tits are fabulous but you’re big as a house...yet you enjoy this? Gods, I’ll need to write a psychology paper on this...but yes, let’s do lunch. Living in Velen has left me a skeleton, I could eat the horse I came in on and have room for desert.”

 

“Oh ...yes,” the telepathic Yennefer said, noticing the plump Keira was about to pop her top, “you’re skin and bones, love. But first the conditions, we should invite Triss too. Poor thing is starting a diet tomorrow and well, she could use one more day of free living.”

 

Geralt felt a rising sense of dread. Yennefer’s sudden expansion was beyond sexual, every ounce of her screaming for squeezing, but he’d rather face a dragon than anger her. Which, he stupidly realized, he had. He barely realized that she’d said Triss was dieting, which suggested the ginger fire mage had gained weight too, which seemed totally bizarre. How implausible was it that Triss would get fat? 

 

“Oh but it makes sense that I got fat?” Yennefer growled in his mind, picking through his thoughts, “she always outweighed me and her abs were never earned. And what, am I not enough for you? Even now, when I’m nearly three times my own size, she has to be here too?”

 

“Yennefer,” Geralt said outloud, terrified the impetuous brunette would do something insane.

 

“And the second thing, Geralt has volunteered to pay for our meal,” Yennefer said sweetly, “a good thing too because I, am very, very, very hungry.”

“You want to see me eat, Witcher? You want to see me with all my hang ups unleashed, an unsatisfiable locust swarm in human shape? Totally uninhibited? Fine then,  I’ll show you how I can eat. I’ve gone mad as a hatter since I got fat, I can’t be satisfied by any means known to man or elf, with food or with sex. I do hope you hunted well in Velen, because we’re going to the most expensive eateries in this city and then, after I’ve gorged and glutted and stuffed myself...you are going to fuck my brains out until I’m not angry anymore.”

[Batman76]

1 hour ago, >_< 0_0 said:

My theory: Ciri is a weight gain McGuffin

The truth, is that she went to a place that had a lot of mcmuffins....

 

An idea I'd had for a short was yen and triss getting stuck in Las Vegas, without access to most is their magic, and while Yennefer's mind reading guy them plenty of money, enough to stay at a five star hotel penthouse, their metabolism would be no match for high fructose corn syrup...

[Batman76]

17 hours ago, Arimnestos said:

So is the new chapter you've uploaded to deviantart actually part 8? because its also titled part 7 but the part 7 on here isn't on deviantart

The DA chapter is the newest one, I haven't uploaded it here yet.

[Batman76]

Here's the actual newest one:

https://www.deviantart.com/westmetal/art/The-Sorceress-Stress-Snacking-pt-8-Orgy-899154850

 

Spoiler: they don't come to skellige, but there's a lot of coming...