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The Sorceress' Stress Snacking

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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...

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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

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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!

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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.”

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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...

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