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Fantasy WG: The Tale of Emperor Basil the Fattener

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Guest Sulla67

So, I've always liked fantasy and it seems natural to combine it with weight gain. This takes just a little bit to get started with the gorging.

The Tales of Emperor Basil the Fattener by Grand Mistress of the Imperial Assassins Guild Ashlay Santuan

Pt I: The Guardsman and the Priestess

He was called Emperor Basil the Young, Basil the Slayer, Basil the Conqueror, Basil the Hero and after his death, Basil the Saint. He broke armies like twigs, out witted his enemies at every turn and was hated by the nobility as much as he was universally beloved by his people. However, you probably don’t care about that. What upset the Empire’s high society far more than his conquests and reforms, were the, well massive changes in the standards of beauty he instituted.

The first story of his then non-normative preferences happened when he was a mere youth of 18. Basil was the product of a short fling between the then Emperor Orion the III and a statuesque adventuress from the distant Vales of Artemis, one of the Amazons. His mother had died giving birth to him while still a mercenary in the Empire, which probably spared his life as the Amazonians commonly kill male children. Although his status as a bastard prevented any formal recognition or title, Orion seemed to have had some fond memories of his mother, having the boy raised as a palace ward.

He grew tall and strong, taking his father’s dark skin but favoring his mother with a massively muscled stature of 6’2, red hair and piercing blue eyes. Basil entered the army at fifteen, serving with distinction as a cavalryman on the Eastern frontier before being admitted into the Imperial Guard at 18. His appearance was striking enough for me to remember him return clearly, I myself being an Assassiness of the Imperial Secret Service. He towered a head and a half over me and his hugely muscled thigh was as thick around as my slim waste. When I trained in aerobics, free running and hand to hand combat in the Imperial Gymasium I would often see him there, lifting huge weights and knocking veteran warriors to the dirt with his practice swords.

The Guard paid very well and its barracks were near the empire’s largest Temple of Voluptia (Goddess of Beauty, Sex and Fertility) which went a long way towards explaining the Guard’s very high morale. Basil used his entire promotion bonus to buy an exclusive one year contract with a beautiful Priestess named Yvarra the Iron Bodied.

Yvarra had then just turned 29, a high end Sacred Prostitute with only a year left before she became a full priestess, a rank which she had already been de facto granted but would have to wait until 30 to actually hold. A woman of her rank and beauty serviced only those who had been selected by the Temple’s Seers as fit to make love to Voluptia’s Priestesses. Her body at that point was marvelously fit, serving as a model for Leonard Corvinie’s famous 9 foot marble statue of Voluptia. Hours of exercise each day made the lithe muscles on her tall body stand out, while blessed genetics still gave her a curvaceous hour glass figure with incredibly long legs and a face like a goddess. Yvarra’s huge eyes were green, her full lips were red and lustrious black hair fell down to her waist. The only fat on her body were in her large breasts, which despite her age and their size were renowned as the perkiest in the Capitol, indeed I can say from personal experience that they somehow perkier than my own modest bosom, a fact that drove me to frustration at the time. A vocal proponent of the Slender Theological School, which held physical fitness as the only form of beauty and that Voluptia would only return when every young woman had slimmed down, Yvarra had been renowned for dropping the average weight of the Temple’s Sacred Prostitutes by twenty pounds when she had been named their chief.

I myself had once sampled her in a fit of girlish curiosity and was left with a warm tingling feeling for a week and happy memories for the next seventy years.

Many in the Guard were jealous indeed when they saw young Basil walking in the city with the lovely Yvarra, he a mountain of muscle in his shining scale mail, chivalrously carrying a small stack of her sacred books. She an impossible beauty wearing only a scandalously short dress of gossamer silks, the V of her neckline plunging down almost to her navel and the short hem rising so high the toned roundness of her buttocks could occasionally be glimpsed, held together with a belt of gold chain and thigh high boots perfectly caressing her long legs. Only a few were not blinded by their looks to note that the famously fit beauty was being led to some of the finest Halfling run pastry shops and restaurants of the Capitol and that the Guardsman ate almost nothing, while ordering her vast quantities of chocolate covered treats, vast sugary drinks and fried food in the private booths they entered early in the evening, not leaving until late at night when the streets and restaraunts were empty. Only a handful of the serving staff noted that the priestess had to be helped from the booth with by her hulking lover and that her belt, cinched so tightly when she entered, was carried by Basil when she left. The plump Halflings could only nod in approval that the woman was showing such a healthy appetite.

However, within a few weeks Yvarra seemed to vanish, staying within the small but opulent house Basil had bought with his high pay. While Basil trained harder than ever in the Imperial Barracks, Yvarra was seen no more in the upscale gymnasiums and aerobic studios that she had once spent all the sunlit hours in. But, after dark Halfing delivery carts from such eateries as the Bursting Button, the Snapping Sash and the Uncinched Corset were seen frequently in the neighborhood, often several times a night.

How Yvarra was persuaded to so drastically change her life style is a mystery I have never been able to solve, and I knew the Emperor better than anyone, even then I had befriended him, sparring against him in the Gymnasium. When I asked him why Yvarra no longer graced the Capital with her presence he would only smile. Later on, Yvarra would only say that she had done it for his favor.

Basil at that point lacked the Imperial power that would one day make slender noble women stuff themselves silly for his glance and cause foreign kings to lock their daughters in larders to earn a marriage alliance. But while he was only one of a hundred bastards Orion the III had sired, he did however have stunning looks, a gentle nature towards those he loved and a frustrating ability to persuade almost anyone to do anything.

Perhaps Yvarra tired of the increasing number of hours she had to spend each day keeping her perfect figure. Maybe after a lifetime of self denial and discipline she wanted only to sample the small, and not so small, pleasures she had so long denied herself. Some would say that Basil bewitched her with magic taught to him by his mother, which is patently ridiculous as he never knew her and the Amazons praise and pursue fitness in a fashion that would have made Yvarra at her thinnest seem a waddling bison. I myself think that Basil must have convinced her using his insufferable logic.

‘Yvarra,’ I can picture him saying gently, their perfect forms entwined on bed of silk after their first session of love making, ‘Everyman in the Capital wants you and not a few woman either I would doubt. You are loved and envied, but is it only for your looks?’

‘Of course not,’ she would have countered with her melodious voice , slim hand brushing back her hair and large breasts quivering, ‘All know I am Voluptia’s most devout follower. Has she not granted me the knowledge of how to prevent pregnancies and the month curse, and the magics of how to make fertile both women and fields? Can I not cure sexual diseases with a wave of one hand, block a foe’s spell with the other and call down the Heaven’s lightning with my voice?’

‘All of that is true and more,’ he would have admitted, ‘but how many know that? The City looks at you and all they see are endless legs, rippling abs and a heaving busom that juts out like a cliff. Even within the temple how many know that you rose to leadership in your order through your clerical power and divine favor instead of just assuming your slimness gained you entry.’

‘I have to admit that while my powers are great, my looks have helped me on my path,’ Yvarra would have said, sighing softly and gazing down at her perfect form, ‘Many Priestesses have done nothing but praise me for my looks and I know that old Abottess Raya put me in charge of the Temple Prostitutes because of my love of exercise. She thought that a life of indolence had made them too plump and bid me slim them down. It didn’t matter that they were performing the sacred rights and sexual positions exactly as our holy scrolls say, with real faith in their hearts. That they were pudgy and I was slim was the only thing that made her select me.’

She would have stood up then, perfect body in front of a silvered mirror as she looked at her reflection, running her neat hands of muscular curves, squeezing her tight buttocks and feeling how there was not an ounce of errant fat on her whole frame.

‘This beauty can be a curse,’ she said, ‘I never wanted to be in the Prostitutes. I spent three years as a roaming Priestess with an adventuring party. I healed the sick, I helped crops grow and I battled evil. Voluptia above, I helped kill a dragon! But did anyone care I could do that? No, all they did was look at how my chain mail bulged against my chest and tapered at my waist. Then ten years ago I returned to the Capital, hoping to hone my magical talents, to rise through the ranks and finally earn some respect. I hadn’t  been here a day when Abottess Raya summoned me to her office and the skinny harridan looked me up and down, slapped by buttocks and said, ‘Yvarra your looks are stunning. You are exactly what we need, someone whose beauty has been slimmed and hardened by the road. Last week one of the Temple Prostitutes hit size ten, you’re exactly who we need to trim them down.’’

‘Imagine what you could have done if she had let you study,’ Basil would have said, standing beside her and running his hands on her curves, ‘even now you are the youngest woman ever to earn the rights of a Priestess.’

‘I could have power greater even than the High Priestess,’ she murmured, closing her eyes with pleasure, ‘but I don’t have time. For the last ten years I had to spend all day keeping the Temple Prostitutes in shape, shouting at them and hurrying them until grew slender and gorgeous. And I had to keep myself in shape, ignoring the fattening foods of the city while I ran and stretched in the gymnasium. And every year it gets harder, I have to do more and more just to keep this body. I exercise for six hours a day straight anymore and still I fear that one day my clothes will grow snug.’

‘I do not think anyone would complain if your clothes grew snug my dear Yvarra,’ Basil would have said, hefting her breasts, ‘some indeed might appreciate it.’

‘If only,’ she would have sighed, ‘my stomach groans with hunger all day, while my muscles burn and my brain hungers to learn. But if I were to slack, my clients would complain in a moment and the Abbottess would merely raise my hours at the gymnasium. She fears what powers I have already, afraid that I will usurp her. Even with only an hour a day I have reached the powers of a Full Priestess ten years before she did.’

‘Yvarra,’ he said, ‘I would not complain.’

She must have looked him, tears in her eyes, ‘Truly?’

‘Yes,’ he said, massive brown arms wrapping around her pale chest and covering her nipples, ‘and remember, I have got you exclusively for a year. You do not even have to check in at the Temple. For the next twelve months, you’re a free woman. In a years time you can walk into the Temple and no one can stop you from assuming the mantle of priestess.’

‘Well,’ she smiled coyly, tracing a finger across her perfect form from her full lips down to her navel, ‘that’s only if you don’t complain…’

‘I think there are ways we can prevent that…’ said Basil.

What must have followed was a session of love making so mobile that any watching Junior Grade Assassin would have almost lost her perch on the window sill the house did shake so. She would indeed have needed my skills to hang on and watch one handed, without being seen.

Of course, I wasn’t there…

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Guest Sulla67

Section 2, Part I: Yvarra Thickens

So over the next year Yvarra drastically changed her habits. All day long she read and studied sacred texts and magical treatises, performing endless experiments and rights. Soon her powers, already strong, grew greater and greater as she delved into the divine arts. Within a month she could have defeated a dozen other Priestesses in magical combat and could have passed the examinations for Abottess and Arch She-Bishop of Love with ease. But of course, that was not the only thing that changed.

While Yvarra nose was too buried in a book during the day to eat much besides a handful of fruit, Basil filled her nights with endless passion. Less than a week after their conversation he began taking her to the finest restaurants in the city. Yvarra exulted in showing off her looks and finally getting to eat real food in what ever amount she desired, not merely the temple’s rabbit food. That first night, both of them in a private booth behind heavy veils at the Hafling eatery the Straining Sash, Yvarra rested on silken cushions and looked at a table filled with sugary confections: Cinnamon Rolls covered in spices and drowning in cream, massive cold enchanted glasses of ice cream shakes mixed with caramel and chocolate sprinkles, platters of fried onions and cheese sticks and ten huge filets of fried catfish drowned in barbecue sauce, her favorite food when she was an adventurer.

‘I’ll explode if I eat all this…’ she murmured, her hand going to her perfectly flat stomach, which rumbled at the sight, ‘I already feel like a cow after four days of no exercise.  I could have sworn all the people we saw on the way here were laughing behind my back at my flabby stomach.’

‘There is no flab on you,’ said Basil, picking up a spoon and overfilling it with whip cream, chocolate sauce and sprinkles from one of the shakes, ‘not yet at least.’

Before Yvarra could say another word the spoon was in her mouth, the creamy concoction filling her tastebuds with ecstasy. She sighed softly, the muscles of her body rippling and both hands gripping the table as if to keep herself from falling.

‘But…but…,’ she stammered, ‘I’ll get so fat. I was prepared to lose some tone, but this… OHHHHHHH.’

Another spoon, even larger than the first and with a healthy measure of ice cream on it besides the whipped cream, had found its way into her mouth.

‘I haven’t had ice cream since I was a child,’ she said happily, chocolate sauce on her lipstick, ‘before I entered the temple at ten. You know what will happen to me if I eat like this every day?’

‘Trust me Yvarra,’ said Basil, ‘when I said that I would mind if your clothes started straining, I meant I wanted you to never fit into them again.’

At that point, he activated the charm that blocked even magical sources from seeing and hearing what went on inside the booth, much to any hypothetical ease dropping assassin’s chagrin.

From that day on, Yvarra’s evenings were filled with endless sessions at restaraunts, only ending when she had to unfasten the golden belt that was the symbol of her office. Then she would be whisked home in a taxi carriage for the only exercise she was to receive the rest of the year. Within a month she stopped even walking to the restaurants, loving to flaunt her body though she did.

The obvious reason of course was that her clothes were growing snug indeed. One day about a month after her first feeding session she stood in front of  a mirror, wearing a tight dress of red velvet and an exasperated expression. It was slit to the hip on both sides, designed to show off trim legs, and the neck line plunged to her belly button to show off toned belly and perky breasts. It was sleeveless to show off her toned arms and had no back all the way down to the top of her shapely bottom, showing off the tiniest hint of crack. It was one of her favorite dresses and today it made her furious. She had put the dress on with magic, smiling as it materialized around her. Seconds later she realized it was uncomfortably tight, Yvarra was about to retry the spell when the memory of a month of lazy gorging and a belt of office that was increasingly tight came flooding back. She had been dreading this moment and turned to her silvered mirror to examine herself.

Yvarras breasts bulged far more than normal and disturbingly were much lower than she remembered. Her hands, the rings on them uncomfortably tight, caressed them, surprised by how much they jiggled. Gravity, long denied its ripe prey by pitiless exercise, was now pulling down with both hands. Both her nipples, for so long and tight, were now beginning to point downwards. Yvarra had not had to wear a bra since she was an adventuring young cleric a decade before and then it had been for added protection in dank dungeons and murderous battle fields. The thought that she now had to do so just to not look obscene in her favorite dress filled her with horror.

Her hands continued down and she gasped that they failed to find her firm abdominal muscles. Many women would have still been proud to own Yvarras stomach, and even before Basil came to the throne I had seen many noblewomen and courtesans wear belly shirts that they were many thousands of sit ups away from deserving, but it was a far cry from her days of glory a month before. There were no discernible muscles there at all and indeed there was a small paunch from the heavy lunches she had been starting to eat. It was also rather wider, her golden belt of office was now out at least two notches. For a moment she sat down before noting in horror that her stomach formed a roll when she sat down, the pure shock propelling her out of her seat, unrealizing that she now needed the help of her arms to do so.

The Priestess stuck out one of her legs, looking at the long limb in the mirror. It was to all extents and purposes perfect, long and pale without blemish, but it lacked the bulging muscles she was used to seeing. Shockingly the only bulge was around the top of her thigh high leather boots, which gripped far more tightly and made her thighs muffin top over them.

Turning, Yvarra saw that her buttocks had followed her breasts example, they were lower and far softer and went much more to the side than they once had. As her hands grabbed them, she noticed the crease of fat on her shoulders and that no muscles popped out of her arms as her hands squeezed. Even worse her plumper fingers found plenty to grab, her bottom having grown incredibly soft in the past month of study. Alarmed she plunged her hands further down, searching desperately for some sign of the once unpinchably muscular gluteus.


Yvarra turned back to face her front, her mouth opening wide. Her breasts had burst from the dress, one of them even tearing open the fabric that restrained half of it. Now free they continued to bounce, far softer and much lower than she remembered. The last time she had measured them, at a dress shop on her return to the city, Yvarra had been a natural D cup despite years of living in the field on scanty rations and endless marches. She literally shuddered at thinking how big she was now, which only caused her breasts to ripple, an effect that part of her stomach and thighs followed.

‘Oh no,’ she said, ‘Basil is going to be…’

She glanced again at the mirror, eyes tracing her voluptuous curves from ankle to face. Her face struck her in its changes. Her high cheek bones were still there, but they were far less defined and her cheeks were rounded. Underneath her jawline was the hint of a small double chin, a sight that would have had her running and dieting for weeks two months before. Her long hair lacked the straightening, wavy lines it usually boasted, for she had not done her daily beauty treatment, instead returning to its natural curl. She barely looked like herself, the small weight gain making her face almost unrecognizable. But she did not scream or run or purge, instead she smiled, revealing dimples she had forgotten were there.

‘I don’t look like Yvarra,’ she said, ‘I don’t look like a sex object built for the masses adoration, to earn coin for the temple with my tits and ass. Voluptia above, I look happy! I’m doing what I want, when I want with someone who loves me! I’m contented, Goddess I don’t look like a gymnasium rat strumpet anymore, I look like a Priestess of Love!’

Again she smiled, hands tracing her thicker curves, smiling now at how her soft body gave way when she pushed, ‘However… I still look good. I know Basil at least will think so…’

An hour later, Basil returned from his duties at the Palace, sweat still on him from a punishing demonstration of sword play before the Guard Commander and the Emperor himself. He found Yvarra on their bed, wearing the tightest, smallest and most revealing items in her wardrobe. There was no trace of muscle in the soft thighs that muffin topped around her garters. But these were mere imitations to the  gut that surged out of the small corset she wore, unlaced at the bottom it allowed a meaty fat roll to form while it was laced tight at the top to allow huge cleavage to form. Her breasts massively over flowed the corset top, which sighed and heaved with every breath due to the strain that it took to push her inflated tits up to their old perkiness at their new size and density. Torcs of gold pinched her soft arms and a pair of ruby ear rings framed her soft face, then lit into a dimpled smile. She practically bulged out of the lingerie so soft had she grown, looking like a woman who had never exercised in her life.

‘I hope you don’t mind me being unready to go out,’ Yvarra said, her tone coy, ‘but I just couldn’t find anything that fit. Do you think my cleaning spells shrank them? I know I haven’t gained an ounce, what with my strenuous diet…’

At that she bit down into a dream filled doughnut, whipped cream forming around her mouth and several generous dollops falling on her pushed up cleavage. Yvarra greedily shoved the whole thing into her mouth, cheeks bulging around the fried dough.

‘See,’ she said through a full mouth, ‘I’ve been eating so healthily. It must be the amount of exercise I’m getting. Its hard all cooped up in here, but I think I’ll make the bed my new Gymnasium. Do you want to help me work out?’

Imperial Guard training books say that a soldier should be able to don and ditch his scale male within thirty seconds unaided. Basil’s hit the ground within ten.

Half an hour later both of them were covered in sweat, Yvarra in particular was gasping so soft had her muscles grown. She tried to rise only for her stomach to press into her thighs, due to the dozen pastries that were pushing her belly taut as a drum. Defeated, the Priestess fell backwards onto the bed, a jiggle going through her whole body. Somewhere along the line her corset had been torn off her and her breasts now covered much of her torso.

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she said, in between licking cream off her lips, ‘but I decided to order out from the Bursting Buttons. A chicken salad for you and a couple pastry/desert/appetizer platters for me. Nothing fits me at the moment…’

‘Keep eating like you are and you’ll be hard pressed to get clothes that do,’ smiled Basil.

‘Pweash, I’m a sishe sish…’ Yvarra began before realizing that she had absent mindledly opened a second box of Hafling doughnuts and had half of one in her mouth. Swallowing she continued.

‘I’m a size six at most,’ she said, ‘the clothing stores are filled with dresses for women like me. Any tailor in the city would be honored if my curves graced their measuring tape.’

‘True indeed my beauty, although I would say you’re a rather soft size six’ said Basil, growing aroused again as he watched his voluptuous lover stare at the doughnut box, fighting a losing battle as her hand picked up another pastry, ‘but by the time your wardrobe was refreshed, would you still be able to get into it?’

‘I’m not gaining that fast,’ she claimed, hand touching her bulging stomach as if afraid to find it even larger.

‘The fact that the panties you bulge out of say size 2 between your soft cheeks say otherwise,’ he teased, ‘wasn’t it only six weeks ago that nude statue of you was unveiled before the temple? Do you want to go strip outside it, let people compare?’

‘Its your fault,’ she countered, giving the towering Guardsman a playful shove that sent him nowhere and her belly jiggling, ‘I’d still be the envy of the city if it wasn’t for you introducing me to a life of luxury. And look at you so thin and fit, why must I be the one that grows!’

‘Because you’re the one who can’t stop eating doughnuts,’ he teased, pinching her soft buttocks, ‘besides, I must guard the Emperor, while all you have to do is read, wave your hand and lie in bed. You don’t miss exercising do you?’

‘No,’ Yvarra admitted, ‘nor do I dislike how greatly my power has grown. I have to admit the extra cushion on my bottom does make studying more comfortable. Although I ordered some size six dresses tomorrow. I want to be able to walk to dinner tomorrow evening.’

And so, after a night of love making Yvarra rose late, snacking on leftover pastries and ordered her new dresses from the gnomish clother. Five days later they arrived and to her glee they fit perfectly, despite a week of no exercise and dining on take out. She had no way to know that the Gnome kept careful record of the sizes ordered by each of his lady customers and that when one saw a jump in size, he kindly added an enchantment of stretching that was good for up to size eights. The looser silk fabric highlighting her large breasts, now held up by an F cup bra, and a figure that was still an hour glass, if one that had an extra twenty minutes of sand stretching it out. But in the dress she still looked slender, although a few women long jealous of her famous beauty smiled in delight at how her dress no longer plunged to show off stomach and its slits stopped at her knees and how her golden belt of office was a now on the third notch instead of the first. Indeed one especially sharp eyed beauty told a laughing group of friends that both notches were badly stretched, evidence of a losing fight against a growing paunch.

For herself, the walk to the restaurant was miserable for Yvarra. Six weeks before she had run ten miles a day up steep inclines, barely breaking a sweat. Now the two mile walk to the Torn Corset was pure agony. A stitch in her side started only a hundred yards from the house and sweat broke out across her fore head. Her breathing quickened and the tops of her thighs ached where they rubbed together. Fearful of not being able to fit into her dresses she had eaten little that day and her pampered stomach growled angrily, unused to denial and strain. After half an hour of slow walking the finally arrived at the restaurant and she collapsed into her reserved booth.

‘A little out of shape dear?’

‘I’m just hot…’ she complained, ‘nothing else.’

‘Why don’t you have some ice cream then? They have your four favorite flavors.’

After that Yvarra was not seen again for many months, but when she it was as part of the first great shock Basil delivered to the Empire.

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Guest Sulla67

Chapter III: Yvarra’s Metamorphosis

Over the next eleven months Yvarra grew massively, both in divine power and in flabby girth. By day she delved into treatise and codex, but now instead of light meals of fruit and vegetables a hand was constantly dipping into bowls of popcorn dripping with butter and salt or into a box of fried pastries. The marathon stuffing and sexual sessions with Basil blended together, food and sex blending together in her mind until cheeks blushed and clitoris quivered whenever she ate and her stomach gurgled whenever she made love.

Within a month she had gone from a size six to a size ten, a discovery made when the buttons on a pair of silken pajamas burst after a lengthy battle to get them on. Many would have still called her a beauty, although those who had seen her before would have been alarmed at her sudden change in shape. At this point she was still an hour glass, if a soft one who was growing rather bottom heavy for her hips were wide and her buttocks large, giving her a slight pear shape. But her stomach had thickened quite noticeably and it was beginning to rest softly on her muscleless thighs, near as lazy as its owner. A G cup bra cradled her monstrous chest, the silken garment enchanted with multiple wards of perkiness and strengthening for the increasingly saggy priestess who anticipated an ever growing bosom.

But over the coming months as her weight continued to climb it was neither breast nor ass that took most of Yvarra’s weight, but her belly. From a paunch it grew into a verifiable gut flanked by sagging love handles, aided by an introduction to Dwarven Beer. When she discovered that her stomach now eclipsed her breasts in depth and her hips in width, the priestess could only smile and down another ale while rubbing the soft gut.

It was high summer that morning, usually Yvarra would be striding the city’s noble beaches wearing only a bikini of silver wire over sun tanned skin and probably leading the temple’s volleyball team to victory over teams from rival temples. She laughed at the thought, invisioning herself, bloated from months of eating and pale from long days indoors, trying to score a point only to trip and fall breathlessly into the sand, her bikini bursting off her and fat jiggling crazily. Deciding that while fat may be enjoyable but paleness a bit too much, the slightly tipsy Priestess lounged nude in the house’s walled garden, letting the sun stroke her skin. Thus it was that Basil came home that night to find his pudgy lover demanding he rub soothing ointment all over her flabby curves.

Yvarra grew tanner and ever fatter over the summer, until by the end of august her skin was black and her gut vast. Now she did not seem a soft version of herself, but unrecognizable entirely. Her fat 38G cup breasts rested on top of a vast, 40 inch belly that doubled over on itself before blending into 42 inch hips, her mammoth cheeks spackled with cellulite. Long slender legs had become thick tree trucks, the once trim runners thighs now rubbing together and her athletic calves and delicate ankles now blended into fat cankles.

Despite her shocking change, well over 80lbs in four and a half months, the formerly vain Priestess was not unhappy. Indeed she was still very vain indeed, because thanks to the ever increasing attention her handsome lover paid her body she felt far more secure and beautiful than she ever had before.

Indeed, after a four and a half month self imposed exile Yvarra again began walking through the city during the day, although few would have recognized her, as slow moving as her walks were and punctuating with breaks. Now Yvarra was able to stride the markets without fear of being ridiculed over her appearance, for when last seen in April  Yvarra was slim, pale and fit as a fiddle. In mid September she was huge, dark and had to take a break after every few hundred yards, for her muscles had turned to mush beneath her flab. She was much softer and flabbier than a woman of her weight normally would be, for her so little did she exercise that her muscles could never hope to grow used to her ever increasing fat and the hard earned body dissolved inside a sea of lard. No one could mistake the slow, doughy waddle of Yvarra the Round’s fat thighs for the fast, athletic trot of Yvarra the Iron Bodied. This walk was meant to add a little muscle beneath the lard, for although she was fine with growing soft, Yvarra had been a bit disgusted to find her self starting to gasp up the stairs.

Into the market she wore a vast green dress, far more tent like than she would have liked but the custom ordered sarongs she had designed had not yet arrived from her tailors. For the first time in fifteen years she was struck by the fact that almost no one gazed at her with lust. Indeed, two teamsters unloading a wagon yelled, ‘Out of the way fatty!’ as her slow waddle interrupted their task.

Yvarra was not shocked by this, for she new how fat she had grown and was indeed proud of it. What need of the approval of common laborers when a rich royal bastard with Amazon blood in his veins worshipped at her rotund temple nightly. She held her pointed head high, round cheeks and soft chins bouncing as she waddled slowly away to a food seller.

Several packages of fruit filled her basket, for although the Priestess did love fattening concoctions of hafling make, she was beginning to feel that she had let herself go a bit too far too fast. The number 200 had stared back at her from the scale that morning and her feet were beginning to be hard to see. While she didn’t mind her lover stuffing her and was indeed finding her own soft curves appealing, she did want to be able to walk when she took up her Priestess robes.

Paying for her blue berries and apples, and fighting off the gurgling enticements of her stomach as she looked at the chocolates on sale at the register, that the Priestess heard a voice in her ear that sent a shockwave reverberating through her flab.

‘Yvarra the Iron Bodied,’ it said, soft and melodious, ‘how rusty you have grown.’

As swift as a two hundred pound fatty could she turned, fearing the mocking face of a rival Temple Prostitute, and almost fell over as her fat tummy continued to spin, the centrifugal force almost taking her off her feet. Finding no one she had to cast her eyes down a tad, craning over her enormous bosom and belly to see me.

I have been remiss in describing myself readers, a sin I should rectify. In those days I was still a junior grade Assassin in the Imperial Secret Service. My parents were a team of husband and wife merchants from the far east and I was orphaned when they died of a strange foreign disease at the tender age of two. The Assassins Order saw my potential early and for the next fifteen years I trained obsessively in the arts of espionage and hand to hand fighting. I was short, standing six inches shorter than Yvarra at 5 feet even. It does not strike me as vain to say that my face was rather pretty, heart shaped with high cheek bones, soft and slightly slanted black eyes. Short black hair framed it nicely and jy body was harder than steel, a narrow hour glass with small b cup breasts and a large round buttocks of pure muscle. Arms and legs bristled with corded sinew and I do not boast that so great was my strength and Chi prowess that I had killed armored men with a punch and warhorses with a single kick. That day I wore a knee length dress of green, jade charms that were enchanted to make me look far skinnier and less buff than I really was.

Yvarra stared at me for a few minutes, trying to catch her breath before saying, ‘Ashlay…’

‘Fear not Priestess,’ I returned, ‘your secret is safe with me. But I do require an explanation. Perhaps somewhere cooler and with drink, for you sweat like a glacier and totter greatly.’

Both of us walked to a nearby tavern, one that served dwarven drinks that had been watered down for human consumption. On the walk I had the joyous experience of having a half dozen men check out my lithe body and caught at least two whistles. Although the Order teaches us to only use our bodies as a weapon, it did not hurt my vainity to be catching male attention while Yvarra the soft bodied waddled behind me.

‘Water for me,’ I said to the waitress after Yvarra had maneuvered herself into a back booth, barely able to fit her gut into the seat.

‘You can’t stay for free longshanks,’ the Dwarf snarled, although the plump lass in her pig tails and mail was only an inch shorter than me, ‘if you order water you’ll be charged for beer.’

‘Then make it two of your finest for me and let my friend have her water,’ Yvarra said with a smile, ‘and an extra silver if none of that water gets in my order.’

For a moment we sat, she looking at me and blushing, for when we last met her body was nearly as muscular as mine and even smaller in the waist. I in turn was entranced at the depthless valley of cleavage she had on display that rested on a thick fat roll and was framed by flabby arms and a double chin that had begun to colonize lower down.

‘So,’ I began at last when the drinks arrived and Yvarra began draining a glistening stein, ‘from the drinking I take that Basil didn’t plant Octuplets in your belly.’

‘It was not for lack of trying,’ she admitted, putting down the beer and wiping some foam from her lips in a way that sent my shivering despite her huge size, ‘if you have to know he likes me this way. Voluptia above, he’d probably like it if I got bigger.’

‘Basil? Mr. Rippling Muscle on Muscle who has all the skinny Palace Ladies in waiting drooling when he lifts? The Man who could have five countesses at once if he asked?’

‘I know, but I don’t care. I trust he would be loyal to me, but Priestesses cannot marry in any account. In eight months our contract ends and we go our separate ways. Besides, he has so much for me when he gets home I know he isn’t cheating.’

He wasn’t at that. Basil wouldn’t marry for years and years, but he would always be loyal to only one woman at a time. Or in one instance two and in another three, but all of them were onboard with it and it was all at the same time each occasion.

‘I know,’ I said, ‘I heard you moaning last night.’

‘Why are you following me?’ she snarled, leaning as close in as her bulk allowed and for a moment her eyes lit purple with divine power and I quailed as she seemed to grow taller, though no less plump, as divine power filled her, ‘Basil is mine and now skinny little waif is going to take him.’

‘My interests in Basil are purely as a friend,’ I said. A white lie, but one I kept close for many years. ‘If you must know, I was sent to find you.’

‘Why would the Assassins want to find me?’ she asked, putting a plump hand on a fat breast.

‘Two reasons,’ I smiled, ‘One my direct Superior misses watching your ass wiggle as you walk before the palace during the morning dance, although I’m not sure if he would feel the same.’

‘Doubtful,’ she said, ‘Voluptia’s gifts can be ample as well as small. The right clothes and moves and I could still have any man I want in the city. The second reason?’

‘Of course,’ I said, brushing a strand of short black hair from my eyes and giggling at the thought of her gigantic form slowly dancing in front of a statue of her past, slender self, ‘the second is because you’re with an Imperial Guardsman. We keep track of them and when you were seen no more it was thought you might have been kidnapped, held for ransom so that Basil could put a knife in the Emperor.’

‘Truly the wheels of bureaucracy turn quickly,’ she sighed, sitting back and pushing the table into me, ‘Its four months since I stopped going out. In that time I could have been in a Sheik’s dungeon in Pushmir or a Crime Boss’ love slave or…’

‘Doubled in size?’ I added before quailing at her glare.

‘I know I’ve gotten big,’ she admitted, shoulder slumping and breasts tapping the table top, the fabric on them growing dark with spilt beer, ‘I had thought I might get this big at the end of the year, but never would I have dreamed that I would have grown so quickly. I only came out today because I knew I couldn’t be recognized.  I had planned to start working out so I could be at least plump when I undergo the Priestess trials, but this morning I could barely do a sit up. I used to do five hundred a day! It doesn’t matter now though, you’ll report to your masters and the whole city will know by tomorrow that Yvarra the Iron Bodied is a grade A cow. I can see all those Temple Sluts, slim and secure in lean bodies I made them build laughing at me, pulling at my fat and measuring my rolls.’

‘Wait,’ I exclaimed as tears began in her eyes, ‘no one has to know.’

‘They don’t?’

‘Of course not,’ I said, ‘all I have to do is report that Basil is so vigorous you can barely walk. They won’t send another assassin to check.’

‘Thank you very much,’ she smiled, ‘Its not even technically a lie. I literally can’t get up before ten anymore. But, how can I repay you?’

‘Just let me help you,’ I explained, ‘Basil is a friend, but I know he has a tendency to over do it. Yesterday he bested a hundred men in training, until he was covered in bruises and the Captain ordered a stop.’

‘I remember, I had to help heal the bruises,’ she smiled and blushed, ‘he repaid me with a lot of interest.’

‘I’m glad I never asked him out,’ I said, ‘It would be hard to be incognito if I was, well…’

There you go Ashlay, I thought, putting your foot in it.

‘My size?’ she smiled, ‘Trust me I love this size now and am not ashamed, just afraid of being mocked. I am a tad bit afraid I won’t be able to make the Priestess trials now, almost all of it is lore and magic but there are a few tiny physical tasks that I can barely do now. At this rate I’ll be four hundred pounds by then and I’ll be lucky if I don’t have a heart attack.’

‘Then let me help you get in shape,’ I said.

‘You’ve helped enough,’ she said, ‘and I don’t want to disappoint Basil.’

‘Know one said anything about losing weight,’ I said, ‘I’m talking about weights girl! Five months of strength exercises with me and you’ll have twice the muscle than when you were skinny and won’t have lost an ounce of blubber.’

‘What do you know about strength exercises?’ she said with a quizzical eye.

‘Oh, you’ve never seen me with out the charm bracelets have you?’ I said, sticking a limb out to the side of the table. It was slim, lovely and for my short size long, although it was more the limb of a runner than a power lifter. I unhitched the jade ankle bracelet and suddenly its true appearance was revealed, brimming with hyper defined muscles from ankle to perfect ass.

‘Impressive right?’ I said, putting the bracelet back on before we drew attention, ‘I can help you get something similar under all of that.’

‘And I won’t lose weight?’

‘Not at all,’ I reassured, ‘if not for my free running I might have a paunch myself. You probably won’t get much fatter, but you’ll add some muscular pounds.’

‘It can’t hurt,’ Yvarra admitted, ‘after all it took me an hour to walk here and I’m half a mile from the house! Meet me at 10:30 tomorrow Ashlay, if that fits with you.’

‘Perfectly,’ I said, ‘I mostly do night work.’

‘Me too anymore,’ she admitted.

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Guest Sulla67

So it was that Yvarra began to exercise again under my guidance. I was easy at first, for she quickly became exhausted after even the easiest exercises and was slightly ashamed at how out of shape she had gotten. For a few weeks she even got a bit flabbier as the leisurely walk , sit ups, push ups and squats quickened her already ravenous appetite into overdrive. But after a month she got no fatter, and her body ceased to jiggle so much as muscle grew hidden within.

For the rest of her year we worked in secret, until on the last month of their partnership Basil was called away on exercise for three weeks. Their parting love making left her unable to walk until noon the following day and I found her asleep, sheets entinwed around her muscular form. I sat on the edge of her bed, the silk sliding on the loose black work out gear, and sneaked a Halfling pastry as I poked her chubby cheek.

‘Time to wake fatty,’ I said jestfully, ‘or are you too fat to get out of bed anymore?’

She cast an irritable eye at me before saying, ‘What happened to your gnomex?’

I blushed slightly, for I was wearing much looser clothes than the skin tight gnome made fabric I commonly exercised in.

‘Its at the wash,’ I said a bit too quickly.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘at the wash. Maybe they’re next to my size twos and sixes and tens and fourteens and twenties…’

‘What are you implying?’ I said in mock rage.

She sat up, showing me the largest bosom I was going to see for a year. At some point she had shelled out the cash for some firmness enchanted nipple rings.

‘Just that you seem to be more interested in pilfering my doughnut stash than working out next to me anymore.’

‘Bull’ I said, ‘I got the fastest time ever through the order obstacle course just last week.’

‘And the day Basil first gave me a Halfling doughnut I hit my personal lowest of 112 lbs,’ she said with an evil grin.

‘Is it that noticeable?’ I asked, hand on my stomach, which would still have put the whole city to shame even if the abs didn’t pop quite so much.

‘Only to someone who looks,’ she said, ‘and trust me I think I know a lot more about it than most. Although Basil said something yesterday.’


‘Just that you were looking buffer than normal,’ she said, ‘most of your extra eating is going to your muscles I suppose.’

‘I’m glad we only have another month of this then,’ I said, putting the half eaten pastry in the trash, ‘and thanks for telling me before it got out of hand. Its double work outs for me until that gnomex fits again.’

‘Just be careful around Basil,’ she cautioned, ‘I looked into the records of the unit he was in. His female CO had the army record for fastest ran mile the month before Basil joined her company. When he left she got the record again, although this time it was for slowest.’

‘Trust me, my interest is purely as a friend,’ I lied again, before stretching luxoriously in a pose that would have sent half the city fainting, even though I was wearing loose shorts and shirt, ‘now, lets get to work chubby. Only a month before your Priestess trials.’

She worked out like a fiend the next month, even getting to the point that she could do fifty sit ups in a row, bench her old body weight and a half and even run a mile. Granted, a mile that ended with her gasping five minutes after she would have finished it a year ago, but still a mile.

Twenty days later Basil returned to an incredible night of love making, finding Yvarra far more energetic than she had been, for the once acrobatic priestess had started to become a tad lazy in bed. Sheer bulk prevented many of her former moves, but the muscle I had put in her did help quite a bit. Yvarra had actually invite me to join in, joking that Basil would like to plump women in his bed despite me already losing the tiny amount of pudge that had grown about my waist and then some in three weeks of frenzied exercise. I had declined, again lying even though my loins ached at the thought, but she still called me fatty from then on, even though she was much bigger than me for decades.

Ten days later came the dawn of Yvarra’s trial. She walked confidently into the room, no longer waddling although her thighs did brush occasionally. Yvarra was still tanned and obviously felt her self gorgeous, although every man and woman in the room save Basil and myself gasped as they recognized her, even though she wore the same ceremonial uniform of every priestess there.

A see through purple skirt, trimmed with gold, went down to mid thigh, letting plump thigh and thick calf be seen below. A much enlarged belt of gold braid circled her waist, again drawn to the first hole, although this whole was many inches past the widest one of her old belt. Her paunch and love handles formed a perfect muffin top atop the belt, bare to the world. They only sagged slightly, for she enough abdominals had grown back to give them a bit of a hand against gravity. I was glad her clothes fit so well, for I had been worried as her weight had begun to tick back up recently, especially in her stomach. G cup breasts, perky as ever with the help of the nipple rings, bulged magnificently in a bra made of golden scale mail, purposely bought just an inch too small. A matching thong cradled her plump private parts and disappeared between her round cheeks, now bare of cellulite.

A dozen golden torqs were expertly fitted on her plump arms, much thicker than before if not quite as jiggly as at her peak. Amethyst rings glittered from each round finger and gold braclets circled soft wrists. A gold choker was about her neck, depicting an image of Curvacia as an expectant mother, hands on her round abdomen. Yvarra’s face was still round, although not puffy anymore and her third chin had vanished completely while her second had firmed up a bit, even if it still was there. Her long hair was done up in a braid, save for two long strands that framed her cherubic face.

‘Yvarra..’ stammered old Abbottess Raya, the thin middle aged woman barely able to rise, ‘you are… you are…’

‘Ready and capable of passing the trials of a Priestess,’ said Yvarra with a soft smile, resting a plump hand on her hip.

‘But you are…’

‘The very image of an expectant mother,’ she said, ‘Grow round and plump, bulging with new life. Do not show disgust at the loss of your old figures, but instead exult in the happiness you will find. From the Goddesses own lips in the Book of Motherhood, Chapter III, Page 106, paragraph 4, line five.’

‘You are pregnant?’ asked the Abbottess, ‘well that explains somethings…’

‘For over a month with the Blessings of the Goddess and the help of good Guardsman Basil. The Goddess has even seen fit to bless me with two strong girls who will grow up into fine priestesses themselves.’

‘Preposterous, who would fill your belly in this condition!’ stammered the older woman, who had fought down her weight and denied herself pleasure all her life.

‘The same Man who filled it so full to begin with!’ shouted Basil, standing and flexing his biceps and chest which had some how even grown more muscular. The eyes of every Priestess in the room went big as Yvarra’s belly at the sight of him.

‘You can’t become a Priestess!’ snapped the Abbottess, unable to not glance at her own curveless, overfit, flat chested body.

‘Of course she can Abbottess,’ said another voice as a new woman entered the room. Tall as a spear and thinner, with curly blonde hair spilling to her knees, eyes blue as the sky and less fabric than is on my hankerchief about her slender curves did Silmara Half-Eleven, High Priestess of Curvacia enter the room.

‘My lady,’ said Yvarra automatically, a roll forming on her belly as she slowly delivered a perfect cursty, only a single stitch popping in her bra.

‘Greetings Sister Yvarra,’ said the High Priestess, ‘it is long since I have seen you last and you have grown ever more beautiful. I congratulate you on the Goddess’ blessing. Now come, let us go begin your trials.’

‘But it clearly says in the Temple scriptures that any Maiden who wishes to become a Priestess must be over 30 and under 200 lbs!’ snapped the desperate Abbottess, ‘This whale is clearly bigger!’

‘Excellent,’ said Yvarra, ‘my 30th birthday was yesterday and this morn I weighed only 199 lbs. Thanks to the help of a friend I am as fit as ever despite my size, due to her making me move and stealing the food from my very mouth!’

She made a bicep at that. Granted there wasn’t much there, but her arm didn’t flap with formless lard as it might have done without me.

I smiled at that, happy in the knowledge that under my ceremonial eastern dress of red silk I was wearing my gnomex workout gear and there was not a single unslightly bulge. It was even a little loose on me. Why I could ease back a little if I wished. No, I chided myself, down that way lies Yvarra.

‘Come Yvarra,’ said the High Priestess, slim hand taking Yvarra’s plump one, ‘and Abbottess. We have been wasting much food in our kitchens. For the next month eat every scrap of uneaten food at every meal.’

The two departed then, leaving the aghast Abottess with her mouth open.

‘Sorry if you like those clothes,’ I said to her as the crowd broke up, ‘I think it’s the last time you’ll get into them.’

So ended Yvarra’s involvement with Basil, mostly at least. Although they were mere friends from this point out they still met bi yearly, on the anniversaries of their meeting and the twin’s conception, as often as they could for sex and food. This continued in two of three Basil’s marriages, the burgeoning bride happily joining in on each occasion.

Yvarra never saw her weight south of 200 lbs again, although she did the same exercise routine she had with me for many years. The forty pounds from her first pregnancy stayed, as did forty pounds from the next two. Even though she was huge she was never gross, not a speck of cellulite or streak of stretch mark marred her. She even grew so strong as to be able to bench her own body weight, although her slow jog of a mile turned into a walk. The Priestess was never ashamed of her weight, not even when High Priestess Silmara returned to her home lands, leaving Yvarra in her new role and rolls as High Priestess an official costume that had to have four times its amount of silver and silk added to merely fit around her spherical waist. Had Silmara not grown into such a good friend of Yvarra’s more would have been added still.

Indeed, Yvarra’s ascension to the Priestesshood marked a radical change in the figures of Curvacia’s ladies. When the woman was nine months pregnant and practically bursting with child, Silmara, her clothes looking tighter than usual, commissioned a new statue in platinum beside the old golden one. Her Yvarra was reclined upon a comfortable couch, her body a mass of soft curves and her face a beatific smile, the perfect image of an expectant mother. From the day of its unveiling Silmara declared that hence forth no weight restrictions or exercise requirements would be put on any priestess. None grew close to match the vast weight Yvarra would later grow too, but six packs and thigh gaps were now rarely seen amongst the Priestesses. The Temple’s sports teams, for so long victorious over their rivals, began to lose badly as the flabby women failed each time against the fit Sisters of Athena.

Basil grew to love all six of his daughters, who grew into fine Priestesses themselves. The Amazon blood in them kept them slender, even though five of them never exercised saved Basilia the Paladin, famed for lifting the head of a gold drake single handed. However, when each hit twenty nine she found herself growing gluttonous and taking up with a handsome nobleman who greatly encouraged them. Even Basilia’s Amazonian muscles became very poorly defined and each of them conceived twins at thirty. Sadly, Basil was not there for the births of his first two daughters.

The Emperor-to-be was called away to campaign in the East, part of a muster of the whole Imperial Guard for we faced war with the Yvarra Khanate, under their cruel general Kisna the Slender. I went with him, glad to march to war beside my friend in the official uniform of an Imperial Assassin.

‘Say Ashlay,’ he said to me, ‘did you get the right uniform?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Its just that you normally don’t have that muffin top.’

My hands darted to my stomach in horror, only relaxing when they found my normal abdominals, perfectly fit and flat as a board. Basil laughed at me and I swore to redouble my exercise despite it. Women had a way of expanding around him, even then.

But now the hour grows late and my stomach hungers for a midnight snack. The tales of Basil’s ascension must wait, alongside that of the Stuffing of the Harsil Twins, the Quest of the Portly Ranger, the Dinner of the Amazon Princess and many others. Now I must put away my pen and try and squeeze my fifty inch hips from this chair. Basil always had his way in the end.

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Really digging your style. It's exactly the right amount of imagery and dialogue to keep the story going while simultaneously building an interesting fantasy world with a greater over-arching plot. Keep up the good work!

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Guest Sulla67

Thank you French! the dialogue is the toughest part.

Pt 2, Chapter 1: How Basil saved Ashlay from morbidity

It was a fifteen day ride from the capital city to the Eastern frontier, the mountains and plains passing quickly as the chargers of the Imperial Guard ate it up. Emperor Orion had over a thousand soldiers with him: elite mounted lancers like Basil covered in scale mail and carrying ten foot spears, dangerously graceful elven horse archers with their recurves and immortal steeds and even a unit of the Dwarven Guard, the plate armored axe dwarves driven in mule gigs. There were not only soldiers in the Imperial muster, but picked mages from the Imperial College and a cadre of Clerics from the four temples. Yvarra would actually have been slated to be in the later actually, were it not for her delicate condition that was bulging her belly out even farther everyday.

And of course, there were the Assassins.

Five guarded the Emperor visibly at all times, with ten others hidden around them, their identities known only to the Grand Master. Several others filtered secretly through the army, while I and several other junior assassins were relegated to scouting duty. We would roll into every village along the military road a day ahead of the main army, disguised as simple traders in a wagon. I’d sneak around and leave a marked sign on the way out of the village, alerting a unit of lancers that would circle round the place before the Emperor’s arrival of any problems. The little hamlets were pretty easy to look through, too easy actually which is why I got sloppy.

Fullwood was somewhere between a town and village, having its own wooden palisade and a real market place, plus several stone houses. As the people of this region tend toward pale skin and blonde hair, we assassins had to disguise ourselves. Charm spells made broad Ulric the Dwarf into a fat old man, while Ysthay, a woman who was perhaps the deadliest archer I ever saw looked like a grey hag in her fifties. I was their daughter and the disguise made me furious.

The charm bracelet gave me blonde hair, blue eyes and fair skin, which I didn’t particularly care about. What did bother me was that it turned me into a proper fatty. Okay, not Yshara level fat but compared to my normal buns of steel I was a flabby hog. My legs didn’t exactly brush, but my hips merged into flabby love handles and I had an undeniable tummy under my blue dress. I even had a damn double chin! The only good note was that I had a pair of perky D cups, filled with youthful fat.

At least it wasn’t real fat, although I looked it and anyone who felt me up would think so. And on that trip plenty did get to feel me up, for my role was to be the soft but slutty young thing who doesn’t realize her dress doesn’t fit anymore. I’d pretend to get drunk in taverns and men would spill any secret to me, surprised that such a chubby girl could be so acrobatic. I’ve never put a lot of emotion into sex, although I did dislike that men were thinking me a simple fat girl fuck, instead of being in awe of the muscular goddess I really was. Besides, if they got too annoying or had let slip anything I could just start throwing them around the room.

Anyway, in Fullwood I was at its dingy bar, making eyes at a roustabout in his thirties that looked the type to cause trouble or at least be a foreign contact. He wasn’t particular smart looking fellow, but just then he turned around and left. I darted my eyes around, berating myself for my sloppiness, the disguise was getting to me and I hoped it didn’t leave any cellulite on my perfect ass. A blonde woman had come in through an exit I didn’t notice, again sloppy, she was dark and pretty, although she had that look a lot of girls get in their late twenties when their figures start to slip and they pretend not to notice. A slight muffin top cupped her leather skirt, driving a gap between it and the bodice, while her brace pinched her arms just a tad much.

She smiled at me and my body tensed, reacting on instinct I hurled myself at her, extending a fist that would snap her neck like a twig. But I hung motionless in the air a fraction of an inch from her. She laughed then and I fell limp to the floor.

‘Hello little assassin,’ she giggled, ‘aren’t you a chubby one? Standards have slipped I see.’

With that she broke the charm necklace on my neck and the flab faded into bulging muscle. She pinched my now smaller breasts and laughed.

‘Looks like someone lost a cup size or two, but don’t worry, you’ll get it all back and more. Now sleep.’

I woke up sometime later, in a large stone room lit by witch lights and a huge skylight in the ceiling and filled with voodoo dolls, hex bags, wands and alchemy ingredients. My attacker had her back to me, humming softly as she fiddled with something. I longed to snap her neck, but nothing moved. I noticed that I was floating naked above the floor, fit body spread eagled over a huge rune of antigravity.

‘Awake my little muscled one?’ she said turning, yellow eyes filled with malice, ‘I never did like the fit look on women.’

‘You look like you could stand a few workouts yourself fatty,’ I countered, surprised I could speak.

‘You’ll eat those words,’ she snarled, hands clutching her muffin top protectively, ‘damned assassins. I’d still be slim and trim in the city if it wasn’t for you Assassins kicking me out here in the sticks with its lack of aerobics centers and fattening fried food. You’ll rue the day you temporarily foiled the plot of Magda the Svelte!’

‘More like Magda the double chinned,’ I said, stupid mouth getting me into more trouble.

‘Its not a double chin! My face is just built that way!’

‘Like how the cellulite is just built on your thighs?’

‘Shut up!’ she yelled, ‘I’m in control here!’

With that she stalked over to me, a faint jiggle in her tummy. Her hands massaged my muscles, feeling their iron strength and perfect definition.

‘Around here they call me Magda Three-Hour,’ she said, ‘for I’ve broken the age old impossibility of body modification spells. For the right price I can make a woman look like any thing she needs too for three hours. And your tongue has earned a lot.’

Oh crap.

‘And a secret,’ she said, ‘while researching a way to escape after killing your emperor this afternoon I made a breakthrough. Just before we met, I discovered a chant that will make any modifications done in the past hour permanent!’

Double crap.

‘Just think, I’ll be sitting slim and pretty on a beach somewhere, forever young while you’re stuck as a fat hog for the next century!’

Triple crap.

‘But first these muscles,’ she said, tapping my steel sinews with her finger nails, ‘you’re too buff for my taste dear. It must have taken a lot of work for a girl your size and race to get biceps like that. You must work out what, ten hours a day?’

‘Four,’ I admitted, ‘fast metabolism.’

‘Not for long,’ she said, ‘but first let’s see what you’d  look like without those gym sessions!’

She said something I didn’t catch and I felt myself deflate. My thick arms got skinny, my abs and lats disappeared, my legs dwindled away and my butt shrank to nothing. The witch pulled a full length mirror in front of me and I gazed at myself in horror. Looking down I saw that forty pounds of hard earned muscle was gone. My body was skinny fat, a term as yet uncoined until Basil really got going. I was barely a buck even, but everything was soft, flabby and my tummy even pouched a bit. My hands moved, but instead of strangling the witch the skinny limbs only fondled my tiny bulge. This was worse than fat, I looked like one of those hand maidens that was always ogling Basil, made slim by youth and genetics but doomed to fatness by her own inability to work out once she hit twenty five.

‘My someone hasn’t been eating enough,’ Magda said, ‘lets put some meat on those bones!’

With that I started to grow. For a moment my ass took the brunt of it, growing into a round city booty before it slopped downwards and became one with my thighs. With a slap those thighs hit each other, the ever increasing meat forcing my legs to stick sideways. Calves grew into cankles which grew so fat I could barely make out my knees. Up top it was even worse, for my arms had turned into huge folds of flab at the tricep and bicep that fluttered like wings as I desperately waggled them. My stomach bulged outwards, first as a small, soft paunch, then into a bulging beer gut that folded in on itself into a double roll. Then a triple roll before finally falling into an apron of pure lard that slapped against my knees. My pretty face drowned in a sea of fat, from cheeks that looked like they were stuff with apples and a chin that budded into two and then three sets. Finally cheek and chin turned into one huge jowl that plunged towards my chest, so wobbly it had grown. In a hideous, and probably intentional irony, my breasts barely hit d cup but were so saggy that they drooped like old socks hanging on the line. Worst of all was my ass, each gigantically spherical cheek twice the size of my previous bottom. Above it hung a many folded cliff of back fat, complete with a hideous set of back boobs from the sacks of lard that pooled around my shoulders. I was so damn fat that I could barely open my eyes and breathing was difficult even in the anti grav field, even my forehead sprouted rolls! Sweat began to pour from my skin, the sheer strain of existing as such a tub of goo taking more effort than the most strenuous work out.

‘My, my!’ exclaimed the witch, ‘a six hundred pound piglet ready for the fair. You’re missing one thing though, you seem to be one of those annoying women who are immune to cellulite. This should fix that.’

With that she pinched my buttocks and laughed as a sea of cottage cheese spread from my giant ass, coating even the jowls hanging from my chin.

‘You’ll pay for this bitch!’ I said. An hour ago it would have chilled men’s bones, now it sounded comical. My voice had deepened and my speech slurred due to my meaty cheeks. I even sounded like I was eating for Gods’ sakes.

‘I don’t think the assassin’s order will let you back in after this,’ Magda sneered, ‘although the circus will be in town next week and they could always use a new fat lady. Now for the three words that will make you a porker forever!’

She stood in the center of the room, raising her hands high, her muffin top forcing up her bodice as she did. Minutes ago I had jeered at her, now she was an image of fitness compared to my ballooned self.




She never said the last letter, for the door shattered open in an explosion of wood particles.

Basil stood outside it, muscled like a god and with the sun shining on his sword. Behind him lay five dead men, the other members of Magda’s cult.

‘Burn welp!’ she snarled, spitting fire from her hand.

But Basil’s shield rose high, deflecting the eldritch flame into her parchment laden desk. The dry paper instantly caught fire and the witch howled.

‘Decades of research!’ she screamed, ‘Do you know what this means now! I’ll have to exercise and watch what I eat to stay skinny!’

Basil took her head off then, then pierced her heart and kicked both pieces into the dying fire. Next he threw a chair through the skylight to let the smoke escape before walking over to me.

‘Ashlay,’ he said, ‘is that you!’

‘Sadly,’ I said, even though I could already feel the effects of her spell starting to fade.

‘Can I help you?’

‘Not anymore than you can,’ I admitted, ‘fortunately this will only last for another three hours.’

‘I’ll guard the door then, make sure no one sees you like this. Your partners were turned into frogs, I found them in your wagon and then headed to what seemed like the most likely spot.’

‘Basil… thank you.’

It was only later that I noticed he had never broke eye contact with me, didn’t even glance at my porcine form. To a man who turned every statuesque stunner he slept with into a lazy ball of fat, I was a goddess but Basil denied himself. He knew that the effect of him seeing me as a mammoth porker might have broken my already weakened self consciousness. That was probably the point I stopped lusting after him and started loving him.

Three hours later I left the house, fit and slender as ever. Basil never breathed a word of it to anyone, not even to Yvarra who would have given him pleasures undreamed of for the ability to have teased me mercilessly.

So it was that I was able to stand on my own muscular legs at the battle of Yrkava and there save Basil’s life and watch him become Emperor.

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Pt 2 Chapter 2: The Battle and the Khaness

Yrkava was an awful battle, one that saw the Empire almost destroyed but for the quick actions of Basil and myself.

The Empire’s army had drawn up on a ridge just beyond our frontier, facing a vast horde of the Khorvara barbarians. Horse archers and lancers from both sides swarmed on the flanks, while the enemy formed a great turtle formation of shielded infantry that slowly advanced on our center. The Emperor waited for it to close, ready to unleash a the Imperial Guard’s horsemen and dwarven axes at the foe as soon as they closed, content for the moment to allow his archers to pick away at the enemy.

I was standing behind Basil, part of a small detachment of Assassins with orders to destroy all the official papers if things went south. Back in trim form after my humiliating encounter with the Witch Magda, I cast my eyes over the army watching for a threat. Occasionally I paused on Basil’s broad back, sitting his charger in the rear of the Imperial Guard’s cavalry. For once no lustful thoughts filled my mind, only gladness that so formidable a warrior was on my side.

The threat came from within. Monks of Eon, God of War and Order had gathered about the rear of the host for hours but now the black robed eunuchs came forth, singing hymns of blessing. No one noticed until too late how close they were to the Emperor’s party until the daggers started to flash in the sun.

Orion screamed as a poison blade buried itself in his stomach and his official heir didn’t even get that, two daggers piercing his neck. Instantly all was chaos, men shouting for orders and explanations just as the enemy tortoise formation burst apart, revealing a small unit of heavy cavalry inside. They charged us and hit the Emperor’s position, knocking down his banner and stomping Orion’s corpse.

Two of the enemy hit Basil, for he had been marked as of Orion’s blood. He blocked off the first with his shield but did not see the second’s knife aiming for him. I blocked the foe’s strike, stomping the ‘monk’s’ dagger an inch from Basil’s thigh. Without effort I broke the assassin’s arm and then shattered his face in one punch. Two more assassins jumped at me and I handled them easily in a flurry of perfect blows, leaving them broken wrecks in the dust.

Basil had finished off his original attacker, only to turn and see me triumphant over three others. He smiled at me and then saw the Emperor’s banner had fallen and that the army was falling apart. That made him mad.

Only three times did I ever see my liege lose his cool and this battle was one of them. He screamed like a dying elephant, ripped a lance from the ground and spurred his horse into the foe who was even then trying to steal the Imperial banner and his father’s corpse. Basil impaled the man carrying Orion’s body and then decapitated the man stealing the banner, jumping from the horse even as his blade flew from its scabbard. He hauled the Imperial banner upwards, thrusting it into the air as the signal to charge and hewing a barricade of enemy horses in front of him.

The Imperial troops rallied and counter attacked led by Basil, crushing the enemy center and then moving onto destroy their flanks. Tens of thousands of Khorvaran’s died that day, a blow their Western khanate would never recover from. That day Khan Yrgos the Brave fell beneath Basil’s sword and his oldest daughter and heir, Kisna the Slender was found unconscious beneath her horse, one of Basil’s victims. For the next month Basil rampaged across the enemy frontier, taking a dozen castles and towns, even storming their Western capital of Irmael. With their Khan dead and his heir prisoner, the Khorvaran’s fell into civil war and were no threat to the Empire for a decade.

Before anyone realized what was happening, the army was hailing Basil as Emperor and the senior surviving general placed Orion’s battered diadem on his head. For once he was at a loss for words standing there before his army, until I seized his hand and raised it upwards. Cheers filled the crowd and word was sent back to the capital that a new Emperor sat the throne.

Leaving most of the army to stabilized the situation, Basil tried to race back to the Capital with the Imperial Guard to ensure his succession. However, his progress was slowed by the cheering crowds in every city, ready to celebrate his triumph. When word came from the Senate that despite his bastard pedigree he had been accepted as the new Emperor he allowed himself to slow and allow the people their celebrations.

Every entrance was a parade, with men cheering and women throwing flowers. Both Guardsman and Emperor enjoyed themselves and I doubt a maid along our journey didn’t get pregnant. As Emperor, Basil was now limited to noble women when it came to romance. At that time fitness and slimness were the thing and I saw him ignore scores of lean beauties at parties, his eyes only fitting on any maidens showing signs of plumpness. There weren’t many of them of course due to the fitness craze, just about one girl in every medium town who’d come back from university with a starter belly she was in the process of losing, but Basil homed in on them like a shark smelling blood. At the breakfast farewell ceremonies I noted that Basil’s lover of the night was always absent, probably unable to move after so much passion. I also noticed that while the Emperor ate frugally, that after a few times the noble ladies were realizing he had a liking for fat. At first they’d tried to impress him at the breakfast’s, stuffing themselves silly and making themselves sick as tummies that had eaten only fruit and salad for months were piled full of greasy bacon, butter covered biscuits and waffles dripping with cream and syrup. Word must have actually gotten ahead of us, for by the time we got to the central provinces bordering the capital I noted that the number of girls with starter bellies and the first signs of delicate double chins seemed to have doubled. Most of course were still slender and looked at their girlfriends in disgust as baby muffin tops over ran their skirts, but after Basil would select only the plumpest girls for his bed I like to imagine that they dropped out of their fitness classes.

Finally we arrived back in the capital and Basil was crowned as Emperor in the Plaza of Temples. The people cheered, for already he had defeated a great foe and added huge new territories to the rule of the crown. Yvarra was in the crowd, pregnancy making her huge. All the hard won muscle tone in her seemed to have gone: her third chin was back, her arms drooped down and her gut was stretched so taught by her children that she couldn’t see her feet. She could only move in a very slow waddle that was laughable to anyone who had known her a year ago. The clothes she were wearing could barely keep up with her fat and the extra large belt that had been on the first notch five months ago was now on the sixth.

‘And how is the expectant mother of the Emperor’s children?’ I asked her, hugging part of her and getting a face full of gigantic cleavage, milk and new fat swelling them up into H’s.

‘Happy at Basil’s success,’ she said as I felt some small kicks in her vast gut, ‘as are my daughters. If I wasn’t already pregnant then by tomorrow I would be. Goddess if I could marry.’

‘You’ll have to get in line,’ I said, ‘he must have impregnated a hundred maidens on the way back. The skinny little things couldn’t even walk the next day.’

‘Basil with a skinny girl,’ she tiddled, ‘what a thought.’

‘If I remember right someone was praised as the paragon of feminine fitness right before she met him,’ I said, giving a love handle a playful poke, ‘the image that all Priestesses of Curvacia should hold themselves up to.’

‘I still am,’ she laughed, ‘or haven’t you noticed the softening of all the other priestesses?’

I took a second look at that. Voluptia’s temple had sent twenty Priestesses led by the High Priestess Silvara and all were looking rather ripe. None of them were exactly fat, or even plump but they were definetly out of shape. Not a single muscle was on show, where once I could have counted a hundred and twenty perfectly defined abs. One or two still had flat stomachs, but the rest had small bulges in that dominated their revealed midrifts. Slightly larger buttocks strained their short skirts and I heard a stitch or two pop. Their breasts jiggled in too small bras and each had a small double chin.

‘Since my ascension the average weight’s gone up twelve pounds,’ admitted Yvarra.

Then I caught a glimpse of High Priestess Silvara which took my breathe away, for the Half Elf had really let herself go.  A waist that must have once been only twenty inches now had an undeniable gut, the pale skin covered with red stretch marks, while her small breasts had blossomed into double Ds. Her impossibly high cheek bones were bone and a fat double chin dominated her face. At that point she was the fattest woman with elven blood I had ever seen.

‘Or in some cases more.’

‘She’s really gotten into it,’ I exclaimed, ‘she’ll be your size before long.’

‘Probably, she’s here to petition the Emperor to sleep with all of the delegation,’ said Yvarra, ‘she said she had a revelation that his seed was blessed and she wants as much of it in us as she can get.’

‘Shame you don’t get to go in on it.’

‘I get to go first,’ smiled Yvarra, ‘I’m the only one who’s guaranteed to not be knocked up at least. I can’t wait until all those skinny little things have babies blowing them up. Especially Silvara.’

‘I thought she liked fat?’

‘She does, but she’s responsible for all this damn baby weight,’ accused Yvarra, already munching on a pastry, ‘if it wasn’t for her stuffing me every night I’d have not gained an ounce of baby weight. I’ve been getting her back though, she’d still be thin as a reed if I hadn’t introduced her to Halfling beer and doughnuts.’

‘A year ago I’d never imagine the priestesses of Voluptia getting so huge,’ I said, ‘ a lots changed.’

‘You haven’t,’ exclaimed the priestess, ‘I’m surprised really. I expected you to be a little blubber ball after six months with Basil, even on campaign.’

‘Hey, this stomach’s staying flat,’ I exclaimed, running a hand down the front of my tight red dress. The filmy fabric dived low to show off pushed up cleavage and was cut just a tad to high in the back to show off some perfectly toned cleavage. I didn’t stand out hugely yet, although within a few years I would be by far the thinnest woman in court.

‘Really?’ asked Yvarra, ‘Then why did my Halfling baker this morning tell me that you’d made an order for five meals a day deliveries to the palace. Is that for a friend?’

‘Not quite a friend,’ I said with an evil smile, ‘more like an enemy. Follow me if you want to see.’

We broke off from the party and I led her outside to the harem chambers. It took a while, for Yvarra barely went a mile an hour and had to rest twice, and it didn’t help that the passages were designed for athletic size twos not 250 lb porkers with twins in them.

‘Is he having you fatten up his harem now?’ asked the Priestess, sweat on her face, ‘Goddess how much sex does he need?’

‘He dismissed the harem actually,’ I retorted, ‘said he’d only ever have one woman at once.’


‘Exactly,’ I said, ‘who were seeing is less of a lover and more of a prisoner.’

I opened the door to the Harem’s central chamber. In it was a vast silk couch stuffed with goose down and on it was Kisna the Slender. She lived up to her name, for the tall stately warrioress had not a curve on her. Her yellow eyes were cruel and her endless legs were framed by a mane of brown hair that fell down to the floor. She was wearing only a thong and a half dozen steel chains, leaving her small breasts open.

‘This Yvarra, is Princess-General Kisna the Slender, heir to the throne of the Khorvara Khanates. She’s known for killing men by the hundred and fucking them by the score.’

‘You will die bitch! When I get out of these chains you’ll never move again!’

I ignored her, ‘and this Kisna is Priestess Yvarra the Soft of Voluptia’s temple. You saw the statue in front of her temple on the way in didn’t you? The golden one with the abs and perfect legs? That was her.’

Kisna’s eyes went to the huge priestess and then to the small cart of pastries I pushed into the room.

‘Take a good long look at her Kisna, because by the time I’m done with you, she’ll seem like a stick.’

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Part 2, Chapter 3: Ashlay grows a taste for feeding.

Over the next months Emperor Basil worked furiously, putting in 18 hour days to get the Empire running perfectly. He made the Bureaucracies lethally efficient, he enacted laws protecting the small folk against the powerful, set up a support net for the poor and instituted a series of military reforms that would see the Empire soon doubling in size. At least half the day he spent in the Imperial Gymnasium, beating the Imperial Guard ragged as he shouted out what laws were to take place.

Due to saving his life at the battle of Yrkava I had been promoted to be one of Basil’s immediate body guards. Although it was difficult, it was also somewhat cushy. I had far more time for myself than before, being only on shift six hours a day. A lesser woman than I might have gone soft with all the free time, especially around Basil. However, I kept up my work out and saved the fattening food for Kisna.

The former Khorvara general started out slim, graceful and spitting insults at my face. She was tall, lean and narrow, with barely the suggestion of a curve to her hips. Her breasts were small Bs and her butt was flat as a pancake. On the first day of her feeding there was a tiny bulge on her stomach from where Yvarra and I had stuffed her full of Halfling pastries the night before.  There were still some stains on her lips and I realized I’d have to come up with some way of cleaning her.

‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked, her eyes growing round with fear as she saw me push in another cart.

‘A few reasons,’ I said, activating the charms in her chains that made her too weak to resist. I selected an éclair, already dripping with butter and covered with honey and chocolate chips. Spraying a healthy measure of whipped cream on for good measure I placed it into the barbarian’s hands. She looked aghast at the fattening treat, but was powerless as her hands brought it up. Her small lips and white teeth spread and smacked as she ate it with all the decorum of a wild boar.

‘First, you tried to take away something I care about,’ I said, handing her a jelly doughnut. She bit into it and some of the purple goo inside splattered on her small boobs. I teasingly ran my hand across it and then brought the finger to my mouth, sucking it mockingly.

‘So I decided to take away something precious to you. We already have your freedom and Basil has forbade torture in the empire with brands and irons and thumb screws and eye gouging. So I decided to take your figure. A woman doesn’t call herself Kisna the Slender without liking being thin.’

Her eyes were still glaring at me, the yellow orbs full of hate despite the fact that her cheeks bulged with barely chewed pastries. I decided to fix that and put an entire pound cake in front of her, the desert covered in thick, buttery white frosting. Her hands went towards it, but I stopped her.

‘I don’t like you looking at me that way,’ I said, ‘so you can’t use your hands.’

Against her will she slammed her face into the cake, snuffling and sucking like a hungry dog. I laughed at her the whole time as she devoured the cake, before falling backwards gasping for air. Her stomach bulged noticeably, stretched taunt. For a moment I let her rest, I wanted her an immobile cow not to burst when still thin.

‘And the second reason?’ she asked me after a moment, in between licking frosting off her face.

‘Call it living vicariously.’

It took five hours, but the woman finished the entire tray of tarts, cream puffs and cookies. When she was done she groaned loudly, hands massaging her massive gut. Kisna looked almost as pregnant as Yvarra did.

‘Rest well my tubbo in training,’ I said, patting her over stuffed abdomen and eliciting a groan, ‘you’re doing it all again tomorrow. There’s a bath in the other room, now clean yourself up.’

The ensorcelled chains jerked her off the bed, her uncontrollable limbs hauling her to the next room where she started a bath from the tap. With the chains controlling her body I didn’t need to worry about an escape or suicide attempt, so I got ready to leave the room.

‘I’d also suggest rubbing some lotion on that gut. You’re going to be getting some stretch marks.’

So every night Kisna ate and ate and ate until she was nearly sick. I thought Yvarra had had an appetite, but the former steppe huntress’s tummy seemed able to hold an endless supply of treats and she lacked the exercise Basil gave Yvarra even at her biggest. The Khaness’ tummy bulged a bit more each day as the fattening horde of delicacies combined with almost no exercise to send her girlish figure straight into fat girl territory.

Long legs grew soft, the lean muscles were gone and whenever she was rarely allowed to walk her untoned limbs jiggled with each step and it was not long before she was mortified to hear the slap of thigh on thigh. After a few weeks her tummy went from bulging to soft, a plump pot belly when she stood and several rolls when she sat. In a few months it had turned into a double belly, easily folding over on itself. Whenever she twisted side rolls appeared as if by magic on her lats. Noticable curves sprouted on her hips, which greedily sucked up all the available fat and grew out beyond her baby love handles. Kisna’s ass matched them, growing globular and gross, the vast moon like cheeks increasing her sitting height three inches. The back of her leather thongs disappeared between them, while the front was buried by her droopy stomach just as her love handles swallowed the sides. I had been getting her bigger ones as she expanded, but I was still keeping them a few sizes small for added discomfort and humiliation.

Her small breasts grew into C cups over night and got some stretch marks on them. The Khaness’ lean and angular face vanished, replaced by soft round cheeks, and her pointed chin soon acquired a dangly companion. Steely arms that once pulled back a Khorvara war bow grew jiggly and weak, the muscles wasting even as their burden increased. All of the Chocolate was giving her some acne as well, her once clear skin beginning to sprout angry red splotches. If not for her angry eyes she would seem like a pregnant farm wife or perhaps a rather plump waitress.

‘What are you now?’ I said one day to the chubby woman three months into her torment, ‘180 at least? I’m surprised you can walk even. If I were to put you on a horse you’d kill the damn thing with your fat ass. Before long I won’t even need to have you chained, you won’t be able to move.’

‘I am still a warrior of the Khorvarians,’ she snarled, which was hilarious coming from her adipose laden form, ‘take off these chains and I’ll show you I’m every bit as deadly as I once was.’

I smirked at her and snapped my fingers, the chains falling off her limbs. For a second she stood shocked, her body suddenly hers to command once again.

‘Show me porky,’ I said, dropping into a combat stance.

Screaming, Kisna charged me, well more like waddling forwards with her fat rolls wobbling but it was faster than she’d gone in months, and swung a round house. It was one of the worst punches I’d ever seen, for her muscles had atrophied away to nothing and even if they had not she was eighty pounds heavier than she had been. I blocked the punch easily and laughed as she tried for a follow up kick, only for her giant buns to pull her over as she leaned back. Kisna landed on them with a meaty thud and there was a snap as her thong broke somewhere inside the sea of lard that buried it.

‘Need a hand up fatty?’ I said, offering my own mit, which was calloused from years of martial arts work and could bend a steel rod. She seized hold with her own hand, softer than butter from six months of no activity and tried to pull me down. I had no doubt she was hoping to get me on the floor and then crush me with her flab in a fittingly ironic death. But I was made of sterner stuff.

‘Trying to do something?’ I said, as she strained against my iron grip, her hands turning red. I may be short and I may be lithe, but my muscles are dense as all get out from my training and the secret potions of the assassins. I was quite honestly stronger than Basil was and I knew hand to hand combat like I knew my own body. Kisna on the other hand was horrendously out of shape and had been trained as an archer at that.

‘Just die already!’ she yelled, trying to hit me in the ankles with an awkward sweep of her fat leg. It was like dodging a particularly slow moving lump of dough. I released my grip, placed my hands on her shoulders and vaulted over her. My hands found her butt cheeks and instantly grabbed hold of the cellulite ridden mass, tugging and twisting until her whole body jiggled and she yelled in pain.

‘My where did all this come from? Have you been sneaking snacks Kisna?’

She roared in anger and tried to turn and catch me, countless little fat rolls appearing on her side as she did. All she accomplished was falling on her plump gut, massive ass shaking in the air. Kisna panted and sweated from the few seconds of easy fighting, utterly humiliated.

‘Poor Kisna,’ I said, ‘Can you even get up?’

‘When I catch you,’ she threatened and put her flabby arms in front of her. She pushed up and while her comparatively smaller torso angled up her meaty thighs and mammoth buttocks went no where. One of her rolls of belly fat was still on the ground even. She tried again, but her weak body couldn’t take the strain and she collapsed. Kisna probably could have gotten up rather easily, she did it every morning when she got out of bed at least, but the short amount of frentic activity was making her arms scream.

‘Oh you can’t even do a pull up? My how out of shape you’ve gotten!’

‘Shut up bitch!’ she panted, trying to catch her wind. I darted forwards and pinched one of nipples as she tried to rise again and easily dodged her counter blow and she fell again, suddenly unsupported. Her toneless form spread on the softly carpeted floor and most humiliating of all her tummy gurgled, angry at being denied her customary stuffing.

I pulled the cart full of pastries in front of her, taking off the top covering to show off a huge thing of fattening cup cakes.

‘Is somebody hungry?’ I asked, ‘you deserve to let yourself go a bit after all that hard exercise! Why you’re the very model of a lean barbarian warrior aren’t you?’

‘I hate you.’

‘From the long legs to the high cheek bones, not an ounce of fat on you. You live off the land, constantly working your muscles, not like those decadent city women who sit around in harems, uncontrollably stuffing themselves. Or like your sisters, who you tricked into using faulty birth control so that when the time came for your father to choose a successor they were too big to fit into the holy armor of succession your people venerate. Oh if they could see you now…’


‘I’ll tell you what Kisna the Gorging Glutton, Cellulite-ridden Queen of the Steppes, she who bursts panties by the score and eats candies by the ton, lets make a deal?’

‘What deal?’

‘As you may have noticed my body is a perfect image of the fit female form,’ I said, gesturing to myself. I was wearing a tiny pair of booty shorts to show off toned rear and muscled thigh, my mid riff was bare and displayed an endless sea of rippling abs and my perky breasts were pushed out with a wired bra. I’d been wearing less and less during the sessions to taunt Kisna, contrasting my fit gorgeousness with her increasing obesity.

‘I noticed,’ was the petulant reply. She could barely stand to look at me anymore.

‘But it takes a lot of diet and exercise to stay so good looking,’ I said, ‘sometimes I just want a sweet. So here’s the deal. However many push ups you can do right now, I’ll eat that number of pastries from your tray every day. Deal?’

She smiled evily, no doubt envisioning my abs drowning in fat rolls while her own body slimmed down.

‘Deal,’ she said.

Kisna set her legs and arms, resting as flat on the floor as her paunch would allow. She began straining and huffing, fat jiggling as the former warlord tried to push herself up. Slowly she began rising a few inches, belly fat and soft breasts hanging down like meat on a spool. Sweat dripped down her forehead and she began hyper ventilating.

‘Come on fatty,’ I said, mockingly smelling the tray’s tempting aromas, ‘I’m so hungry.’

She grunted and strained, finally bringing her body into the highest position, completing the pushup. She held it for a second and then wobbled, falling to the carpet with a smack. For a second she couldn’t speak, doing nothing but panting.

‘Nice one lard ass,’ I said, picking up a strawberry cupcake with delicate pink frosting, ‘you tried so hard I’ll even put some whip cream on there.’

‘I’m not done yet!’ she snapped. Once again Kisna tried, this time her whole body quaking as she put her whole effort into rising. However, while Kisna had the will power of a military genius and the malice of an ancient demon, her body had the strength of a particularly plump kitten. Her arms gave out less than half way up and she fell again with a shout of surprise, stomach slapping against the ground and all the wind being driven out of her.

‘So sorry there,’ I said laughingly, I walked over and planted my perfect rear on her gigantic one, ‘but since you gave so much effort I’ll give you half a cup cake and round up from there.’

I tapped her jiggly, sweaty form and walked in front of her, pealing open the cupcake and biting into it. The taste of the frosting was divine, for I hadn’t allowed myself a sweet since working out with Yvarra a year earlier. I savored the experience, licking its paper clean.

I smiled at Kisna and then looked down at myself in mock horror,  running a hand over my smooth stomach as if looking for a sudden eruption of rolls and cellulite, ‘You don’t think I’m getting fat do you? I mean, I’ve been hanging around this huge fatty all day and they say that’s a risk if you want to stay thin.’

Kisna only growled and began trying to push herself onto her back with difficulty.

‘I’ll take the second one with me tubbo,’ I said departing, shaking my ass in front of her, ‘oh and chains on.’

The magicked manacles snaked out of nowhere, fastening across plump wrist and cankle.

‘I’ll give you a few minutes to recover before you start eating,’ I said, opening the door and pushing a second cart in, laden with even more fattening treats, plus several milk shakes and sugary drinks, ‘You’ll be eating this slowly until tomorrow afternoon, I figure you’ve graduated to eating 24/7 now and not just our little sessions.’

‘You’re a monster,’ Kisna exclaimed, looking at the huge tray, genuine fear in her voice.

‘No,’ I said, planting slim hand on muscled hip, ‘just vengeful and a tad peckish.’

I went to leave, pausing at the door.

‘I almost forgot!’ I pulled a glass pitcher of ice water from the table near the harem door, ‘Some no calorie water for you. I wouldn’t want your figure getting out of hand.’

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Chapter 7: Boredom and Twins

I had been in the Capital months and I was getting bored.

Guarding Basil for part of the day was a joke it was so easy. No attempts on his life made it within a hundred yards of him and while I had to be vigilant, there were no attempts to stop. My punishing workouts were getting ridiculously easy, I was so in shape my muscles were popping out like steel cables I had to go up a pant size due to my ridiculous glutes stretching out what I owned. The two cup cakes I ate at every one of Kisna’s gorging sessions didn’t make the slightest impact on my figure.

Kisna for her sake had gotten huge. While my ass was big, hers was a mountain of cellulite that hung awkwardly behind her when she stood, merging with her thighs to form one amorpheous mass. Her once lean legs had gotten so thick she could barely waddle and her fat ankles swelled when she tried to stand for more than a few minutes. The fat apron of her stomach sagged down to hide her sex and her toneless breasts did the same on her belly, the huge and shapeless dugs wobbling naked in the breeze. Kisna’s arms were as thick as my waist, without a fraction of the strength. Her face had rounded out into this huge jowel and her big yellow eyes were now small and piggish.

At some point the slim barbarian queen had turned from a small girl stuffed into unwilling obesity into a truly gluttonous blob. She ate constantly anymore, always demanding more and actually seemed to anticipate her daily stuffing sessions. I actually started cutting down on those, as I was getting less of a sexual thrill now that Kisna had not only accepted being fat, but seemed to revel in it. It was honestly a little disturbing.

‘Hello there you curveless waif,’ she told me one day through half a cheese cake, devouring the huge wheel of desert as if it were a cracker, ‘have you come to glory in my endless beauty?’

With that she waved a fat hand towards the endless sea of rolls that made up her body, her immense gut hiding the legs crossed in front of her. I had no idea how fat she was in anymore, but knew she was a lot bigger than Yvarra who had lost little of her pregnancy weight despite giving birth.

‘Not today you gigantic blob,’ I smiled smugly, ‘today I’m here to bring you your things.’

‘My…things?’ she said, pausing in her gorging so suddenly a glob of cream fell off her lip.

‘Why yes,’ I said, hauling in some camp bags and suitcases full of clothing and affects, ‘you’re being released.’

She honestly looked scared then, her yellow eyes growing huge. Kisna actually dropped the cheese cake.

‘Released….,’ she panted then, her pale body growing red, ‘but I thought…’

‘That you could stay in comfort, stuffing your face forever?’ I laughed, ‘Nope lardass, its back to the steppe for you. Your sisters have fought themselves to a standstill and are willing to concede your weight in gold for your return. Although I bet they’ll be a little shocked at that. Nothing but lean meat and hard work for you for now on.’

I pinched one of her innumerable rolls as she started blubbering, ‘Best find something to wear Kisna the Fatass. I’m sure there’s enough fabric in these suitcases for you to find something to cover you. The guards will be here to pick you up in an hour.’

It was only a mile from the Imperial Palace to the docks where a warship awaited to take the obese woman across the straits, but when Basil saw her he wisely ordered a wagon brought out. The crowd gasped as they saw the gigantic barbarian waddle her way into view, looking so different than when she had been paraded slim and lovely in Basil’s triumph. She was wearing a wool bed robe, the knotted belt lashed under her huge middle. It must have swallowed her as a free woman, but now its edges refused to meet. Endless rolls of fat escaped from the foot wide gap and her breasts bulged and jiggled against the top. Two dresses of different colors that had been hurriedly stitched together covered her legs, but her mammoth rear pushed it down in back, partially mooning the crowd. All of it was covered in sweat and Kisna was leaning on a staff someone had provided her, as winded after the short walk as I would be after a marathon.

‘Khaness Kisna,’ said Basil, not missing a beat although I could tell he was harder than a rock at the sight of so much adipose on display, ‘as Emperor of the Grand Empire I hereby bid you to make war no more upon our people nor to be seen in our lands again. Leave and darken us no more with your presence!’

‘I... *gasp* …. *puff* accept…*huff* your mercy,’ she said, almost passing out.

It took five men to haul her huge, sweating form into the ox cart and a small crane to get her aboard ship. It would be another fifteen years until I saw her again, but at that time I doubted that someone who could barely walk could ever be a threat.


It would not be long until we left the capital for quite some time, for Basil was planning on invading the Island of Plombay, rich in silks, gold and sugar. It had been taken from us centuries ago by the Dayshar heathens and he meant to properly restore it to Imperial rule. That meant gathering huge numbers of ships and soldiers and supplies and all the other boring things a conqueror needs. Logistics took time and in between making sure everything was packed right and scheduled correctly and training like a fiend he had to hold court.

Basil literally held court, dismissing pomp and ceremony and noble bickering and only accepting cases referred by legal courts. He was just and fair, but harsh when needed. It was also boring, for generally it was about boring land claims and legal suits and other mindless things. Except for the case of the Janes’ twins.

Both 19 year olds were the sole heirs of a massive shipping company, one of the Empire’s wealthiest merchant houses. Fraternal twins were the two girls, and they hated each other more than anything. Giselle was the oldest by less than a minute, she was tall and blonde and slender. Her face was narrow and shapely, while her large breasts jiggled magnificently in a dress of green. She was an apprentice mage, but not a particularly good one I had heard.

Her sister Jazmine was shorter and paler, with dark red hair to compliment her green eyes. She was very hour glass shaped, not at all fat, but possessing larger hips than her sister but the same waist and large breasts that bulged her green clothes out.

Their fathers will had left both equal shares of the company, but greed and mutual despising had left both girls unable to settle. Each demanded that the Emperor give them the other’s half,  Giselle for her minute seniority and Jazmine for her work in running the company during their father’s sickness. Basil ignored their arguments, for I suspect he found the whole thing petulant.

‘I find neither of your arguments reasonable,’ he said, ‘thereby I invoke the right of Optimo Noctae. I shall sleep with both of you, and whichever is the best lay will be granted the company. Do you agree?’

Both girls paused at that a little, for Optimo Noctae was an old law and one rarely used. It was however legal and as both had a reputation for sluttiness it wasn’t like they were new to this sort of thing. Basil’s good looks and their own impossible vanity, and dismissal of their sister’s abilities, convinced them.

‘Yes,’ both of them said at the same time

‘Good,’ said Basil, ‘and on that note I should announce a new royal policy to never sleep with a noble woman under two hundred pounds. Ashlay, lead them up the harem chamber and order a cart of pastries.’

The twins stood there shocked, completely unable to move or even comprehend what was just said.

‘Now,’ said Basil, ‘I have a war to plan. Girl’s I’ll see you in a year. Unless of course one of you wants to drop out or both of you would rather settle?’

Even the prospect of gaining eighty pounds each didn’t phase the two sisters, so intent were they on each other’s ruination.

‘Never!’ the both said at once.

‘Then get eating.’

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Guest dayman

Great story. I'm liking the anthology aspect to it.

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Guest Sulla67

Thanks for the comments guys!

Chapter 8: The Unfortunately Too Easy Conquest and the Prophecy

Plombay fell like a ripe fruit from a rotten tree into Basil’s steely grip.

No, that’s not the right metaphor. Plombay fell like a trained gymnast from the peak of physical fitness into lethargic obesity at Basil’s urging.

Regardless, the rich island with all its silks and spices was stormed in only two months, despite and because of Basil’s huge preparations. The Dashar heathens had gone into a civil war between father and son, the split just as true on the island as on the main land. Basil’s armies stormed the capital of one faction, overrunning the large city in a single night with the invincible Emperor at their head. After that there was just some mopping up: Basil killed an undead warlord in one on one combat, I snuck into a citadel at night and opened the gates, saved his life from an assassin again. The native tribals came out in droves to our side, for they despised the Dashar with their misogynist laws and strict sexual morality. Everyone was happy, for the natives had utterly no sexual morals, we had taken a great deal of loot and few casualties and most of all, the natives had utterly no sexual morals. All in all it was getting a little too easy for my tastes, although I was glad we went when we did.

Plombay is rich in sugar and fruit, the volcanic soil practically spewing up foodstuffs. The tribes were unusual in that both men and women fought together, their women especially were notable. At eighteen they were rail thin, athletic runners who wore soft, revealing leathers and acted as scouts and skirmishers, fierce despite their soft eyes and pouty lips. At twenty, the girls started putting on meat, lifting weights and gorging themselves into stolid if slow moving infantry. The warrior women were tall, dark goddesses in bronze scale,  with large breasts hanging stuffed over baby lovehandles and soft starter bellies in their early twenties, thickening and bulging into two hundred pound warrior queens by 30. Their legs were thick and meaty, with the heavier girls adopting slight waddles. Even the thinnest scouts possessed magnificently round asses that were both firm and jiggly. The senior warrioresses were near three hundred pounds of muscle and lard packed into steel plate, they were slow moving and ungainly, but wore heavy armor and giant weapons.

The women on the island had worshipped a rather plump version of Curvacia for years, hiding their worship from the dogmatic Dashar, and were rather glad that the mainland priestesses were finally coming around to their sort of thinking. Honestly all their Goddesses were on the heavy end of the scale, our Paladin of Athena, a wispy if strong brunette named Selene, was horrified to see her goddesses’ statue display three chins and two massive belly rolls. She fainted when the Island’s Athenan Priestess invited her to a massive victory feast, the native woman’s huge collection of rolls shaking with laughter as the skinny Selene was lead away. As a prank, the mainland Paladin was propped up at a table, surrounded by empty dishes with her armor unstrapped, her belts replaced with a smaller ones and a great deal of chocolate sauce drizzled about her mouth. Upon awakening she was told she had out eaten and drank every Paladin of Athena on the island. She panicked and ate nothing but bread and water for a weak while she worked out with desperation, honestly leaving thinner than when she arrived.

Despite the carnal delights I was glad to be going when we did. The food there was damned fattening and in between bouts of love making with grateful islanders I started to put on some real weight. This was not the tiny loss of definition I’d gotten from overeating with Yvarra, but honest to goddesses why won’t these damn pants fit anymore weight. I should have seen it coming, I had hooked up with two scouts, one slender girl named Miga and her hunk of a boyfriend, who were trying to bulk up for warrior hood. And they liked to stuff me as much as I stuffed her, insisting that I was going to waste away.

As if. In three weeks I put on fifteen pounds, losing sight of my abs for the first time in a decade (not counting my misadventure with Magda) as a small belly formed. My ass took on an unfamiliar jiggle when I walked and my loose assassin’s pants actually got a bit snug in the hips and waist. My daily exercises felt harder, now that some of my body was not unyielding muscle, and I felt clumsy as a cow. At 135, I was honestly embarrassed to be seen in a bikini, even though most of the women in the army put on a great deal more than I. Especially the Priestess of Curvacia in the expedition, a red head named Kaldra, who started out stately and basically thin if a tad soft in the stomach and ended up packing on fourty pounds as she gorged and fucked her way across the island in a mobile feast cum orgy. Most of the female soldiers had put on at least twenty pounds and were not ashamed amidst the plump and fat loving Plombayans. The women splashed nude in the surf, playing grabass and beach volley ball with no care to their growing paunches or sagging rears.

Thankfully, our vacation ended when Basil got the island firmly organized, governed and garrisoned after three weeks of ceaseless work. As we left he instituted far stricter than before physical exercises on the troops, for while he liked his women plump the Emperor preferred his female warriors fighting fit if he wasn’t going to fuck them. For my part the weight came off slowly and I swear to Curvacia that Basil paused as he walked by me at guard post one night, eyes lighting just a second on my belt, out two notches and with both of the two  holes stretched wide.  Our eyes met and I swear there was an electric thrill zipping through my body, my loins delighting that he was seeing me sexually. He left the door cracked to his chambers on the flagship, but despite the temptation I refused to enter. Leaving my post would be career suicide and threaten Basil’s life, besides I wanted to lose this stubborn flab and while I’m sure Basil would give me good exercise, the women he bedded did not tend to lose weight.  His bed didn’t stay empty for long though, for the islanders had sent a delegation of Priestesses back to the main temples in the capital. It was a constant parade of chubby holy women going through his door, each wearing increasingly ill fitting sarongs and escorted by a quartet of slender scouts who started softening almost as soon as they touched the deck.

One of the girls was named Nileva: her perfect skin was dark as ebony and she was a tall, graceful and gorgeous young woman with a perfect runners body, slender muscles running up every inch of her endless legs and long torso. Her arms were sleek and her narrow face was rather delicate, with very high cheek bones. The only bumps on her were two small breasts hidden behind a leather corset, the petite roundness of her perfect ass peeking out from a pair of cheeky shorts and the pouty softness of her lips.

‘What are you doing that for?’ Nileva asked as she first met me, approaching on easy strides of her long legs, wrapped in tight doe skin thigh high boots, as I hung over the edge of the ship. My feet were jammed between the rails and I was doing reverse inclined situps, my damnably soft belly forming a roll as I pulled myself up.

‘Trying to shape up,’ I said, disgusted at the slight pant in my voice, ‘your islands were making me soft with all their fattening food.’

‘The Island is as it should be,’ replied the girl, ‘a place where woman can grow strong and beautiful.’

With that she slapped her marble torso, which didn’t jiggle at all. That fit women were annoying me was something else to be bothered about.

‘Fat and lazy is more like,’ I said, completing my hundredth situp for that set and pulling myself up, ‘most of your delegation has spent most of its time on their backs, with the Emperor stuffing seed up one hole and breadfruit down another. Why aren’t you there by the way?’

‘I’m betrothed,’ she said dreamily, crossing her lean arms in front of her, ‘sworn not to touch another man until I come home and get married as a full warrior. For now I must confine myself to the soft touch of a woman.’

‘I’m tempted,’  I said honestly, even though she was rather thinner than the women I had went for anymore, ‘but the last time I started an affair with an Island girl left me the least in shape assassin on the payroll.’

‘Oh you’re Ashlay!’ she exclaimed, ‘Miga was a friend of mine back on the island. You’re so lucky!’

‘Well, she was something else,’ I said diplomatically. Miga had been good, but not the best, I preffered girls to lay back and not successfully stuff strawberries in my mouth.

‘Oh not the sex silly,’ Nileva said, instantly seeing through the politeness, ‘because of your weight.’

‘My… weight?’ I froze with my water bottle at my lips, the liquid dripping on me as I stared at the slender girl.

‘Oh yes,’ she replied, ‘Miga’s mother is our tribe’s fat seer. She can tell instantly how fat a woman is going to get. And you’re going to get huge!’

‘…. Huge?’

‘Beyond huge, gigantic!’ she hugged me tight then, hugging my face against her petite breasts, ‘You have so much to look forwards too! The tripling of your chins, your feet disappearing, getting cellulite, the first time your ass gets stuck in a chair!’

‘IN A CHAIR?’ I asked horrified.

‘Oh that’s not until the future!’ she reassured, ‘first you get your early fat. The clothes getting tight, your cheek bones vanishing, your abs getting buried and getting kicked out of the assassin’s guild for failing the physical!’

‘I’ve got to go,’ I stammered, dropping the bottle and bolting. I hit the running deck Basil had installed on the ship, lapping the out of shape female soldiers there as I sprinted around them. Nileva caught up to me immediately, her long legs easily keeping pace.

‘Oh its already started I can see!’ she exclaimed, pinching the tiny crease above my running shorts, ‘to think, this tiny amount of flab will soon blossom into the fattest gut in the empire! Oh my, are you starting to waddle already!’

‘Shut up!’ I snarled, doubling my pace. I ran for nearly an hour, until I collapsed on the deck. I didn’t touch the food that night at dinner, despite that the girls in the Island delegation kept looking over at me, giggling and whispering. One by one they came up with trays piled high of fattening goodies from the diplomatic table, but I refused each one.

That night I stood before my mirror in my quarters. I was wearing only a tiny pair of silken panties and investigating myself from every angle. Had I gotten even fatter? Was the Island Seeress right? Was I destined to become the fattest woman in the empire?

‘No!’ I hissed at the mirror, ‘I’m going to get skinny again! And then I’m going to stay skinny! I’ll never get that big! Never!’

Something caught my gaze on my dresser, a small pennant of Basil.  It was a cheap thing, handed in mass at his coronation but it captured his face perfectly. My stomach rumbled at the sight of it as my vagina wettened.

‘Not even for him!’ I said, although with far less conviction.

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Guest Sulla67

First part of this chapter, more tomorrow!

Chapter 9: The Twins

After a two week voyage we arrived back in the capital. Basil received accolades again from the Senate and people for his victories, but refused another triumph, he threw himself back into work with vigor, already planning a new campaign.

I had lost five pounds on the way back of the dreadful fifteen I had picked up. I was still too mortified to show my midrift, but at least my clothes were fitting a tad better. Nileva followed me around the huge city like a puppy, marveling at the architecture, the huge number of people and how plump the women were. The last one actually took me for a shocker, for plumpness had seemingly become a fashion trend while we were away. Young women had been wearing midriff baring tops for years, but now instead of flat washboards they boasted soft beer guts and muffin tops. Over soft cheeks peeked out from beneath the hems of short skirts and many a previously slim girl could proudly proclaim a double chin. A lot of the aerobics studios were being replaced with bakeries and tailors seemed to be doing a record business.

‘Oh,’ said Nileva, ‘you’ll fit right in!’

‘Shut up,’ I reminded her. I’d sworn her to secrecy over the prophesy from her village, determined that I would stay slim no matter the cost. I didn’t need Yvarra or worse yet Basil finding out I was supposedly destined to be the biggest heifer known to man.

I took her through the city, doing my best to ignore all the temptations of the food sellers and Halfling pastry hawkers. Nileva seemed to stop at each one, gorging herself like a pig on fried sandwiches and doughnut kabobs. I’d discovered another frustrating thing about her, that she ate constantly yet never gained a pound. Finally we reached the main arena, just in time for the days match.

‘Ashlay,’ cried Yvarra from her seat, the Priestess reclining massively across her Temple’s private booth, she tried to get up but seemed to think better of it. None of the Priestesses there were exactly slender, but Yvarra took the cake rather literally. Despite giving birth months earlier, little of her pregnancy weight was gone and her massive gut surged across her tree trunk thighs, while gigantic, milk gorged knockers wobbled above. A woman of her rank had little to do with raising her own children, leaving Yvarra free to gorge and study most of the day.

‘You’re looking better than ever,’ I told her.

‘More like bigger,’ she said, ‘none of this weight is coming off! Although I’m not the only one I see.’

‘Its just bloating!’ I said defensively, although it didn’t show in my loose clothes.

‘Sure,’ Yvarra replied, ‘so who is your skinny friend here?’

‘Scout Nileva,’ said the islander, ‘and I must say it is an honor to see a woman who truly under stands beauty. I only wish I could have your grace.’

‘Why thank you dear,’ replied the Priestess, ‘although I’m getting more than a few compliments anymore. The Temple has had to turn down a lot of requests to contract me out again. Thankfully profits in our Sacred Prostitutes seem to have risen quite a bit with their increasing weight. See?’

The Curvacian team had taken the field. Each long haired woman wore a tiny golden two piece, seemingly made of metallic dental floss. Each woman was also extremely out of shape: their stomachs were large and soft, their breasts were far too large for their bras and over filled buttocks swallowed their thongs. Thighs slapped lazily together and arms shook like jello. Many of them panted just from the short jog to the field.

In contrast, the Athenan team was lithe and pristine, wearing figure hugging white one pieces that were still tight enough to show off perfect abs and shrank to nothing in the back, revealing pert and toned asses. Their endless legs went on forever and their arms seemed cast from steel cables. All had short, militaristic hair cuts that were not unattractive.

Unsurprisingly the game was a one sided slaughter, the Curvacian team going down in less than twenty minutes without scoring a single point. At the end, the Athenan Paladins cheered and pranced, while their Curvacian counterparts lay panting on the ground, barely able to move.

‘Shame I can’t play anymore,’ mused Yvarra, ‘we had a five year undefeated streak. Oh well, we can’t be best in both looks and games!’

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We spent the rest of the morning watching the Athenan team crush their competition, while the Curvacian team lost every game in the tournament. Yvarra waved and shook her arms at every failed goal and every time a chubby priestess slipped in the sand and planted her flabby gut in the turf. She considered standing a couple times, but only once was she able to force her huge gut from her seat with a huge grunt of effort. Nileva spent the whole time stuffing her skinny body with cotton candy, hot dogs and several pints of Halfling beer. After several hours she undid her belt to let her stuffed belly hang free and reclined sleepily, slim hands resting on the miniscule bump. I myself had nothing but a water, although my stomach gurgled at the fattening treats Nileva was gorging herself with.

‘Well, we’ve fought the good fight,’ declared Yvarra at the end of the day, crossing her two thick arms in front of her flabby breasts.

‘Your team didn’t score a single point,’ I replied.

‘That’s not the important thing,’ she said in a huff.

‘Sure,’ I said, ‘then what was the important thing.’

‘I’m…not sure,’ she admitted.

It took a few minutes for me to get Yvarra on her feet and then to poke Nileva awake. We began slowly walking out of the stadium, Yvarra couldn’t walk very far, only for the Priestess to suddenly grab my arm and point.

‘Look,’ she whispered, ‘its one of the Jane twins! Look how big she’s gotten!’

It turned out to be the eldest twin Giselle and she hadn’t gotten that big, although it was pretty noticeable in comparison to what she had looked like. She was standing in a gaggle of other apprentice mages, each of them having put on starter bellies and early stage asses after the latest fashion. The tanned blonde’s very long legs had softened up quite a bit in the thigh region, just barely slipping past each and occasionally colliding at the top when she angled her legs wrong. Her but was saggier and wider, the thick corners of her cheeks slipping out of the white bikini she was wearing. Giselle turned and a collection of fat rolls appeared on her soft back, which had widened considerably in the past months. Her waist line had changed in ways that were hard to describe, but it was definitely wider. Her gut wasn’t exactly a gut, but it wasn’t exactly not a gut either. It was soft and pooched outwards from under her belly button and formed a barely perceptible crease. The sides of her torso were rather thick and meaty, not quite soft enough to form love handles, but this was more to the fact that her hips seemed to match her waist exactly. Her ribs were not visible and the greatest change was on her breasts, which surged outwards in both length and breadth, the stuffed mammaries straining the fabric of her top. Giselle’s pretty face was much broader, the high cheek bones had been buried and her chin was soft.

‘Yeah she’s put on more than me at least,’ I said, ‘probably twenty pounds.’

‘You wish you had put on twenty pounds,’ Yvarra said, putting meaty hands on her huge hips, ‘but I mean look how tiny she is!’


‘Yes, she’d still be a scout on the islands!’ declared Nileva, whose belt was still undone.

‘She’s barely even trying!’ said Yvarra, her massive gut wobbling as she laughed, ‘she’ll never hit two hundred before the year is out. I hear her sister has already gotten forty inch hips!’

‘She barely even has cellulite!’ Nileva added, ‘she must be so ashamed.’

‘This conversation is just…unbelievable,’ I said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, when I met you Yvarra you had a body that would have put everyone of those Athenan Paladins to shame! And now you can barely stand up! You do nothing but gorge yourself all day and study spell books!’

‘I do much more than eat all day!’ said Yvarra in a huff, ‘I pray to the goddess and help expectant mothers and I… I …. I can so stand up!’

‘The only time you stood at all during the game to shout about a ruling, it took you a full thirty seconds,’ I returned, ‘you had to use both arms and it took so long they had already scored another point!’

‘I still got up!’

‘Barely! And the way you eat how much longer will you be able too!’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean you’re fatter than ever!’

‘I gave birth!’ she countered, ‘to twins! I haven’t had time to lose weight!’

‘Six months ago!,’ I said, ‘and you have a half dozen servants to take care of them.  You haven’t had to lift a finger to take care of them and instead of exercising you’ve gained at least thirty more pounds!’

‘There’s nothing wrong with a little extra weight,’ she said, but weakly.

‘When we became friends you wanted to get in shape,’ I continued, ‘you didn’t want to get bigger than two hundred you said, and you wanted to have most of that be muscle!’

For a moment she lookd at herself, having to crane over gigantic breasts and gargantuan belly even to see most of her body. Chubby hands searched over her mammoth collection of rolls and bulges, seeking some curve that didn’t stretch outwards or some trace of tone.

‘I suppose I have let myself go just a tad…’ she said, ‘maybe a little more than I had wanted.’

‘I think you look great,’ said Nileva, placing a slender hand on Yvarra’s huge stomach. I noticed she couldn’t resist giving the monsterous glob of fat a pinch, ‘You don’t need to lose a single pound.’

‘You stay out of this!’ I scolded her, ‘if you islanders had your way every woman would be an immobile blob, with a dozen men stuffing her night and day!’

‘Oh that would be wonderful!’ said Nileva, ‘I hope to be that big one blessed day.’

‘You can stuff yourself on your own time,’ I said, ‘your priestess has sent you to the assassins for training and you’re going to be spending some of that helping me help Yvarra get into shape.’

‘Aww,’ the girl said petulantly, ‘but I wanted to lounge and gorge, there are so many opportunities to get fat here! Just look at all these women getting big!’

It was not hard to notice, for in the high summer every young woman in the city prefers to dress as skimpy as she can, especially those in the burgeoning middle class and the nobility who use public outings like the volleyball games to show off and attract dates. Usually the girls are addicted to exercise and dieting fads, their tummies are flat while their long lean legs stretch forever and underwire bras push up their breasts as far as they’ll go. Today though, each girl displayed a more than slight paunch that jutted forwards in jiggling softness. The strings on their bikinis were strained by growing love handles and fat asses were swallowing thing bottoms. Rapidly growing breasts were straining their tops, which threatened to break at the slightest strain. Many had fried food and beer bottles in hand, gulping them down without a trace of self consciousness. Even more unusual, the men seemed only enticed by the formerly slim girls. In a moment of pride and vanity I noted that despite my slight weight gain I was thinner than almost any woman there still, save for Nileva, the Athenan team and the slender waitresses drawn from the lower class.

‘Blame Basil,’ I said with a huff, ‘once the Emperor showed his preference the high noble girls followed and after them the gentry and then the middle class. Give it five years and even the most base born waitress will be hitting two hundred.’

‘So why work out?’ said Nileva, snagging another stick of cotton candy, ‘Wou wan geff af fasch asch chu unt!’

‘No,’ I replied angrily, ‘I cannot. I’m getting back in shape immediately.’

‘I’m fine with being fat,’ said Yvarra, ‘but I don’t wanna get huge. I mean imagine if I got too fat for sex! What type of love priestess would I be then?’

‘The best kind?’ asked Nileva, rubbing her swollen stomach. If I had eaten half as much as her I would never fit into any of my clothes again, but the damnably skinny young woman’s flawless waist wouldn’t show an ounce of softness.

‘I’m already the best kind,’ said Yvarra with a huff.

She put her hands on her hips, unaware at how it made her stomach just out even further. The Athenan team passed us then, wearing  outfits nearly as skimpy as their uniforms but with the addition of short skirts and high heels. Why they wore the skirts I don’t’ know, for their thronged one pieces had been showing their skinny butts for hours to the whole city, but the heels made each statuesque woman seem even taller than before and jutted out rears already made impressive by exercise. Every male eye instantly locked onto the trim paladins, suddenly ignoring the stuffed girls falling out of their bikinis. For our part, I think every woman but Nileva felt a massive twinge of self consciousness at seeing the gorgeous Athenans. I know I found my hand on my stomach, damning myself for having gone to seed so badly during my trip to the island. Yvarra’s eyes actually moistened, for less than two years ago she had beaten the Athenans to a pulp and now she was eighty pounds over regulation weight. Now they were giggling and whispering to each other, pointing at the once slim Priestess who had fallen so far into sloth and gluttony.

‘I just have to stay the best,’ she murmured sadly.

‘Relax,’ I said, not wanting her to feel so ashamed, ‘none of them have slept with the Emperor.’

‘Imagine if they had,’ Yvarra laughed, ‘they wouldn’t be stepping so easily with children inside them, stretching out their perfect bellies, swelling their breasts with milk and giving them mom asses.’

‘He doesn’t get every woman he sleeps with pregnant,’ I said, ‘it took a year for you at least.’

‘That was because I dismissed the blessing that prevented it,’ Yvarra informed me, ‘after that, *BOOM* twins the first time. Every priestess from the temple had turned theirs off as well when they were sent to sleep with him. Our next generation of priestesses are going to closely resemble each other.’

‘I’d love to sleep with this man,’ said Nileva, ‘if only I wasn’t engaged back on the island.’

‘You’re too thin anyway,’ I said.

‘That will change,’ the girl returned, rubbing her swollen stomach softly, ‘that will change.’

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Chapter 10: Pt I Work outs, a new assignment and a last view

Over the next months I slowly sweated off most of the weight I had gained on the island. It was damnably hard, the stubborn fat almost refusing to melt off despite my running and sparing. Finally I hit a plateau at five pounds above my old weight, the remaining gain refusing to come off no matter what I did. After a week especially tiring workouts that saw the scale’s needle refuse to budge at all I had to admit defeat.

I modeled for myself in the mirror, surveying the damage. My soft paunch was gone, replaced by the resplendently returned abdominal muscles of old, if ones that were just slightly less defined. High cheek bones and a narrow chin were the order of the day up top and even at my peak little damage had been done to my arms and legs. Most of the remaining fat had stuck stubbornly to my always large back side and from there endured a desperate siege, surrounded by exercise and diet. My hips were a tad larger now and my formerly muscled butt jiggled just a tad. It was still hard, but it could be pinched now. Thankfully some of the lazy island meat had stuck around on my chest, sending me from a small B cup to a C. It felt good to be a C after years at such a smaller size, even though I honestly could have still have fit a b cup fine.

‘All in all not too bad,’ I said to myself, running hands over a slightly shapelier form, ‘115 isn’t as good as 110, but no more weight. I’m staying on this diet program, even if nothing else comes off.’

The Prophecy of my own impending obesity from Nileva had disturbed me more than a tad, but I was determined to stay slim despite it. No one was ever going to find me with my ass stuck in a chair, even if my ass was a little bigger than it had been.

Yvarra for her part had sweated off thirty pounds in the time it took me to lose ten, despite her being more than twice my size and six years older. If she had really wanted to I think she could have been back to her old perfect form by the end of the year, but she pretty much refused to. Once she lost the pounds she had gained from laziness after giving birth she stayed at 240, just as big as when she was pregnant, and cut her fat burning exercises and let her diet go back to fatty excess. The Priestess kept up a strength regimen for quite a while and before too long was able to stand up with ease again and even keep up with me at a walking pace.

Nileva stayed skinny despite herself. She grudgingly took up the Assassin’s training, breezing through the intense physical portion that left most recruits vomiting. The huntress shattered my old record by half a minute and barely seemed to even be putting effort into the obstacle course of shattered buildings, barbed wire and mud pits. And all of this with a diet that would have had me needing to be carted around by oxen: after each day was done the huntress would hit a Halfling eatery for two hours, stuffing herself on fried onions and potatoes, scarfing down platters of burgers and pasta. And all of this before she unhooked her belt and went to some night club that served sugary margaritas the size of fish bowls and dwarven ale by the pint. Even when she wasn’t at a bar or restaurant she always seemed to have some snack in her hand, be it a candy bar or muffin. But no matter how much she gorged the night before, the dark skinned girl’s swollen stomach would be flat as a pancake the next morning and she would zip through the most intense training the order could devise as if it were a walk in the park. Some intensely jealous part of me wished for her plump dreams to come true, for her svelte waist to drown in a sea of rolls, for her long stride to be reduced to the slowest waddles as elephantine hips ground on each other, for her narrow hips to stretch out wider than she was tall.

‘That girl is a savant,’ the mistress of our order, Tierra the Crow, said to me one day as we watch Nileva lap the rest of her class. Tierra was a few inches taller than me and despite being in her seventies looked capable of felling an ox with scowl alone. She was prim and still had muscles on her arm and the lines on her face would not have shamed a 40 year old. Indeed most of her hair was still brown, with only streaks of gray to remind people of her age. Senior Assassins age very slowly indeed due to their meditations and teas, the previous Grand Master had been killed in action at over a hundred, ten dead foreign killers going down first before his fists.

‘I do have to admit she’s good,’ I replied. I was wearing tight black shorts and a shirt that was little more than a sports bra, having just finished my own work out. If I was forced to have a rack and larger but, then I would at least show it off. The bounce and jiggle of cleavage actually felt good.

‘She’ll be graduating within the week,’ said the Mistress, ‘and I want you to take her on her first mission. For this I’m pulling you off the Emperor’s Security Detail. What I’m sending you two on will be difficult, very difficult.’

‘You can count on me Mistress,’ I said, bowing with my hands clasped.

‘Very good,’ she said primly, ‘you’ll be told more when you need to know. I can tell you however it will involve infiltration.’

My last week as Basil’s guard passed quickly. Although I enjoyed being around the Emperor it was in truth boring and a waste of my abilities. I was an agent in my prime and the only excitement I was getting was from looking at the flex of Basil’s arms or noting how the ladies at court were slowly growing plumper, a few now unashamedly bearing true guts and full double chins as they got into their 150s.

As the last day ended I got the best treat of the entire service though. A herald came forth with rod and bugel.

‘Announcing the Heirs to the Jane Shipping fortune,’ he yelled aloud, ‘Giselle and Jazmine Jane, here to bear the judgement of Emperor Basil I!’

The doors at the back of the court room opened and both twins waddled in, accompanied by gasps.

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Here's everything else I have written of my story so far, the rest is currently missing in the your stories section and will hopefully return as I don't have anything between chapter 3 and 10.

Chapter 10: Workouts, Twins and Assassins

Over the next months I slowly sweated off most of the weight I had gained on the island. It was damnably hard, the stubborn fat almost refusing to melt off despite my running and sparing. Finally I hit a plateau at five pounds above my old weight, the remaining gain refusing to come off no matter what I did. After a week especially tiring workouts that saw the scale’s needle refuse to budge at all I had to admit defeat.

I modeled for myself in the mirror, surveying the damage. My soft paunch was gone, replaced by the resplendently returned abdominal muscles of old, if ones that were just slightly less defined. High cheek bones and a narrow chin were the order of the day up top and even at my peak little damage had been done to my arms and legs. Most of the remaining fat had stuck stubbornly to my always large back side and from there endured a desperate siege, surrounded by exercise and diet. My hips were a tad larger now and my formerly muscled butt jiggled just a tad. It was still hard, but it could be pinched now. Thankfully some of the lazy island meat had stuck around on my chest, sending me from a small B cup to a C. It felt good to be a C after years at such a smaller size, even though I honestly could have still have fit a b cup fine.

‘All in all not too bad,’ I said to myself, running hands over a slightly shapelier form, ‘115 isn’t as good as 110, but no more weight. I’m staying on this diet program, even if nothing else comes off.’

The Prophecy of my own impending obesity from Nileva had disturbed me more than a tad, but I was determined to stay slim despite it. No one was ever going to find me with my ass stuck in a chair, even if my ass was a little bigger than it had been.

Yvarra for her part had sweated off thirty pounds in the time it took me to lose ten, despite her being more than twice my size and six years older. If she had really wanted to I think she could have been back to her old perfect form by the end of the year, but she pretty much refused to. Once she lost the pounds she had gained from laziness after giving birth she stayed at 240, just as big as when she was pregnant, and cut her fat burning exercises and let her diet go back to fatty excess. The Priestess kept up a strength regimen for quite a while and before too long was able to stand up with ease again and even keep up with me at a walking pace.

Nileva stayed skinny despite herself. She grudgingly took up the Assassin’s training, breezing through the intense physical portion that left most recruits vomiting. The huntress shattered my old record by half a minute and barely seemed to even be putting effort into the obstacle course of shattered buildings, barbed wire and mud pits. And all of this with a diet that would have had me needing to be carted around by oxen: after each day was done the huntress would hit a Halfling eatery for two hours, stuffing herself on fried onions and potatoes, scarfing down platters of burgers and pasta. And all of this before she unhooked her belt and went to some night club that served sugary margaritas the size of fish bowls and dwarven ale by the pint. Even when she wasn’t at a bar or restaurant she always seemed to have some snack in her hand, be it a candy bar or muffin. But no matter how much she gorged the night before, the dark skinned girl’s swollen stomach would be flat as a pancake the next morning and she would zip through the most intense training the order could devise as if it were a walk in the park. Some intensely jealous part of me wished for her plump dreams to come true, for her svelte waist to drown in a sea of rolls, for her long stride to be reduced to the slowest waddles as elephantine hips ground on each other, for her narrow hips to stretch out wider than she was tall.

‘That girl is a savant,’ the mistress of our order, Tierra the Crow, said to me one day as we watch Nileva lap the rest of her class. Tierra was a few inches taller than me and despite being in her seventies looked capable of felling an ox with scowl alone. She was prim and still had muscles on her arm and the lines on her face would not have shamed a 40 year old. Indeed most of her hair was still brown, with only streaks of gray to remind people of her age. Senior Assassins age very slowly indeed due to their meditations and teas, the previous Grand Master had been killed in action at over a hundred, ten dead foreign killers going down first before his fists.

‘I do have to admit she’s good,’ I replied. I was wearing tight black shorts and a shirt that was little more than a sports bra, having just finished my own work out. If I was forced to have a rack and larger but, then I would at least show it off. The bounce and jiggle of cleavage actually felt good.

‘She’ll be graduating within the week,’ said the Mistress, ‘and I want you to take her on her first mission. For this I’m pulling you off the Emperor’s Security Detail. What I’m sending you two on will be difficult, very difficult.’

‘You can count on me Mistress,’ I said, bowing with my hands clasped.

‘Very good,’ she said primly, ‘you’ll be told more when you need to know. I can tell you however it will involve infiltration.’

My last week as Basil’s guard passed quickly. Although I enjoyed being around the Emperor it was in truth boring and a waste of my abilities. I was an agent in my prime and the only excitement I was getting was from looking at the flex of Basil’s arms or noting how the ladies at court were slowly growing plumper, a few now unashamedly bearing true guts and full double chins as they got into their 150s.

As the last day ended I got the best treat of the entire service though. A herald came forth with rod and bugel.

‘Announcing the Heirs to the Jane Shipping fortune,’ he yelled aloud, ‘Giselle and Jazmine Jane, here to bear the judgement of Emperor Basil I!’

The doors at the back of the court room opened and both twins waddled in, accompanied by gasps.

Both of the Jane twins walked into the throne room, although waddled, toddled or rolled would be another word. Giselle Jane, just a tad flabby a few months ago, had utterly let herself go, almost flowing out of a tight green dress that had a deep line of cleavage and a bared mid-drift. Giselle’s face seemed buried under a thick coverage of chins and cheeks, her mouth opening as she greedily sucked in air. Her gut, wide, saggy and huge, pulled her forwards, slapping against her knees as the girl went. It seemed that she couldn’t stop, the hundred pounds of fat she gained pulling her immensely forwards, every inch of her jiggling and covered in a thick sheen of sweat. While her legs had gotten thick and soft, they were no where near strong enough to hold up so much upper body weigh. One of her over taxed shoulder straps snapped, flashing the whole room with one over stuffed breast. Giselle raised a fat, clumsy hand to hold up her dress but the task of that and walking at the same time caused her to trip over herself, falling down in a tidal wave of boob flesh and gut. Several Imperial Guards helped her up, which took a while as she was mostly dead weight.

Jazmine moved far more stabily, if slowly than her falling sister. Clad in a tight dress and skirt of silver, her face was fat, her already D cup breasts seemed to have not changed a hair, while her waist line had thickened to perhaps half that of her sister. She had put on most of her weight in her lower half, from a hanging lower belly to great globular cheeks so huge and round a small child could easily ride on their backs, fifty inch hips that would leave her stuck in most door ways to massive tree trunk thighs and a set of cankles thicker than Basil’s biceps. Jazmine’s legs rubbed together from hip to knee, a sweaty, slopping sound like the waves of an ocean.

After Giselle was helped up both sisters hurried as fast as their hugely out of shape forms could move, nearly collapsing before Basil’s throne. Up close the girls seemed even largely, each rotund barrel of goo fatter than Yvarra had ever been. The Emperor looked at them closely for a minute, taking in their enormous weights, their horrendously bad physical condition, expensive dresses that were ruined from sweat and over strain and the fact that while each hadn’t been a little plump a few months ago, they were gigantic now.

‘May I ask,’ said Basil, ‘how exactly you two managed to gain over a hundred and fifty pounds in the space of five months?’

‘The leaves of …*gasp* the Adelex plant *gasp*,’ said Jazmine, ‘very rare, used by *pant* eastern shamans to increase appetite and weight gain in pregnant women.’

‘A spell of *urgghgh* hunger,’ answered Giselle, she collapsed then, unable to bear up the weight of her huge gut anymore.

‘Well girls,’ said the Emperor, ‘since both of you have put on more than the required weight, why don’t the both of you follow me up to the harem room?’

The walk up took nearly an hour for the exhausted, out of shape porkers. Basil’s sex was vigorous and swift, but neither girl gave him a good reply. Too exhausted to scream and too physically huge to write or twist, they merely lay there like huge, over stuffed logs, giving only the slight shudder of orgasm. In a few minutes Basil had left the room, probably not disappointed as I doubt he expected much from such vain and idiotic girls to begin with. The only blessing was that he had ordered both dosed with conceptive blessings by a fat but fitter Yvarra, so there would be no children from the brief unions.

‘As neither girl was more satisfying than the other,’ declared Basil, returning to court after a few minutes, ‘I declare that each shall receive half of the company, but see their taxes doubled for such a waste of the Imperial seed and time.’

Neither girl could complain much at that, having only themselves to blame. Jazmine managed to keep her half of the company running and profitable, slowly increasing its size. Although the pear shaped woman tried furiously, she never grew thinner and eventually gave up. Giselle ruined her half through laziness and short sighted ness, all the while trying out one fad diet after another that only left her more and more obese. Jazmine eventually pitied her near immobile sister, giving her a home in which both could morn over their lost bodies. For even as fat became increasingly ‘in’ under Basil’s reign, both had rendered themselves near incapable of dating or even walking.

I myself was given new orders that very evening, when Nileva and I were called into the main office of the Guild’s Grand Master, an utterly sound proof room.

‘You are going to infiltrate the southern Dashar Caliphate,’ she told us, the older woman saying it as if she were announcing a Sunday picnic, ‘the Empire and the Southern Caliphate have finished off the northern remnant over the old caliph. Now there’s an uneasy peace between us and I want two of my best near the younger upstart when its time to strike.’

‘How?’ I said, ‘Enchantments? Sniping?’

‘Sex,’ she replied.

‘I like this idea,’ said Nileva.

‘Both of you will go to the town of Maripesch,’ the Grand Mistress Tierra continued, ‘there you will meet a palace flunky named Kopa. She is the Harem manager for the southerners and will take you into the new influx of palace sluts for the new Caliph. Once there, you will set about measures to kill him at the earliest opportunity and escape with whatever intelligence you can find.’

‘I understand,’ I said, taking the packet with the more definite instructions.

‘And girls,’ said Tierra, ‘do whatever is asked of you. No matter what.’

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I will spare you the story of our journey to Kopo. It was brief, hot and dusty and the only benefit was that I sweated off two more pounds, my pants finally fitting like they did of old although the bulge in my chest remained. We saw many patrols and the signs of gathering armies, for the southern Caliphates were mustering for war with the Empire after we had conquered the loyalist north.  Father and son had had civil war, in which Basil had aligned with the rebellious southerners and taken much of the loyalist territory, along with the very rich island of plumbay. However, the southern usurper seemed more than a little peeved that half the Kingdom he had hoped to inherit now belonged to the Empire and was obviously going to try and take it back.

Disguising ourselves as local women in black shawls and veils we met Kopa within a tavern on the outskirts of town. Kopa was a blonde in her thirties, she wore tight leather pants and a vest, leaving her midriff bare. Ten years ago she must have been splendidly good looking, but too many years in the sun had given her early wrinkles and her stomach had gone more than a tad soft, sagging outwards into a crinkly muffin top. The notches on her belt were badly stretched and pudgy hands surged against her rings. A reason for her obvious weight gain was the heavy platter of fried bacon mixed with cream cheese and noodles in front of her.

‘Are you here to chew the fat’ I asked her, appearing next to her in the din of the inn’s common room. To her credit, Kopa didn’t look up at alarm at the two women who had seemingly materialized inside her booth. Instead she finished chewing the grease, fat and cheese in her mouth before speaking.

‘Do I look like I need more?’ she asked, the next part of the code phrase.

‘More is always better.’

‘Until you get too much.’

‘We were told you could get us in,’ I stated after the phrases were over.

‘Indeed I can,’Kopa replied, ‘but it will take about a month to do so. I am not expected back at the Caliph’s palace until I have at least six girls and there are only two of you. I have more than a few stops to make at various noble estates.’

‘Then we will travel with you,’ I said, ‘it will give us more time to practice the act of harem girls at least.’

‘Follow me then,’ Kopa said, swallowing the last bit of her meal. She exhaled and loosened her belt another notch to a happy gurgle from her swollen paunch and with difficulty pulled herself from the booth. The Harem manager was fatter than I had thought: her clothes were skin tight, several of the buttons on sides of her black leather pants had popped off to reveal the tanned skin beneath. Turning, Kopa greeted us to a sight of back rolls and a large ass, taut as a drum under the dark leather which had been repaired hastily a few times by the looks of it. Leaving the restaurant we approached a group of wagons in the caravanserai, guarded by a few old looking soldiers. We followed her into one of three huge, plush looking wagons, hugely long and wide with solid wooden sides and a canvas awning.

‘This is where you’ll be staying,’ Kopa told us, ‘the private transports of the Caliph’s women. Its utterly scry proof, for the Caliph doesn’t like anyman but him to see his ladies at relaxation.’

‘They certainly travels in style,’ I said, beginning to take off my robes and look around. Painted scenes of carnal lust covered the walls, while incredibly soft featherbeds and ottomans decorated the floor, alongside heavy cabinets and wardrobes. In a small bathroom at the back, there was even a copper wash tub and showerhead, complete with a magicked hot water pipe drawing from some extradimensional source. I had a niggling in the back of my mind as I threw off my hood, exposing my high cheek bones and pretty face.

‘Oh no,’ said Kopa as she saw me clearly, ‘this isn’t going to work.

‘What?’ I said, ‘Does he not like eastern girls?’

The rest of my robe hit the floor next, exposing me half clad in tough beige canvas pants and a shirt of boiled leather. I kicked away the robe and stripped away the shirt, showing off the taut abs on my lean torso and bulging jiggle of my breasts, still noticeably larger in the sports bra of gnomex. I tossed them into a wash basket, which featured a man taking a woman from behind.

A very plump woman from behind.

‘Oh no…’ I said, quickly glancing around at the art work and at Kopa’s plump gut.

Every picture in the caravan was of fat girls. Being around Basil’s softening court so long had desensitized me, preventing me from noticing the obvious fatness in the pictures. Nileva opened one of the cabinets at that point, showing it to be full of fudge, candied apples, sugared plums and a hundred other confections besides a milk shake maker and several gallons of ice cream.

‘You’re both far too lean for this,’ Kopa muttered, ‘I thought your order would have realized what the Caliph meant in his proclamation!’

‘What proclamation! When was this!’ I asked. My stomach gurgled suddenly, ravenously hungry. Nileva had popped open a can of marsh mellow cream and was stuffing it by hand into her mouth.

‘When the Empire overran the northern Caliphate, killing his father,’ Kopa explained, marching over to another cabinet and pulling out a thick bar of chocolate. Despite the tightness of her pants and the heavy meal she had just eaten, she munched down into it with gusto. Again my stomach gurgled.

‘Caliph Yelin the Fiery had sworn to kill his father when the old man misused the boy’s favorite concubine. The girl ended up dead in the fighting of the civil war, but you won’t see Yelin thanking your Empire for finishing off his father. He claimed that it aside from being an infidel and a pagan, Basil had tried to outdo him. Therefore, Yelin would out do Basil in everything, from valor in the field to conquests abroad to the size of his concubines.’

‘Oh Gods above,’ I muttered, ‘is every royal on this earth a chubby chaser?’

‘Yelin didn’t used to be,’ Kopa said, tapping her stuffed belly sadly ‘twenty years ago as a boy fresh come from manhood, he delighted in running his tongue along my perfect abs when I was one of his concubines. Now he’s determined to best Basil in everything, he fired his whole Harem and is having me pick up girls for him to feed to bursting.’

Nileva was on her third can at that point, raising the jar above her face so the marshmellow cream would fall into her mouth. Globules of creamy goodness flowing down her face and onto her breasts, onto a stomach that was already bulging. My mouth started watering, while my stomach kept growling with a hunger so fierce it felt like an arrow was in my belly. Both my cheeks reddened as I saw my fellow Assassin gorge herself and I felt my loins moistening. I had never thought of Nileva sexually before, but now I longed to stuff her with candies and breads to see her perfect body melt into flab as I climaxed and ate myself into fatty oblivion.

‘It’s one of the enchantments on the wagon,’ said Kopa, ‘Yelin had his sorcerers engrave all the harem wagons and chambers with runes that make all women near them insatiably hungry until they stuff themselves full. It also makes you think of nothing but feeding and fucking until you’re satiated. Alongside that, the cabinets refill eternally and the harem lingerie cabinet will always match your current size.’

‘How long does the effect last?’ I said with horror, visualizing myself stuck in a slow moving cart, growing ever fatter as I obliviously shoveled food into my face.

‘Once you’ve been inside, it lasts anywhere within a mile of the wagons or harem I’ve found,’ said Kopa, ‘I was a size four when these were made in the capital a month ago and I started looking for girls. I’ve put on thirty pounds since then and this is the first time I’ve been inside since. Lucky for you, you won’t have to leave it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Yelin isn’t like the stories I’ve heard of your Basil, who starts his women thin so he can see them expand. Yelin likes them big, very big. He announced he wouldn’t even bare to look at a woman unless she’s hit 200 lbs. You’re lucky you’ll have so long to stuff yourself, you won’t look like an assassin at all by the time we get there. Leave your clothes in a pile by the door when you’re done, I’ll make sure they’re taken burned to protect your identity.’

‘What do you mean when we’re done?’

Kopa ignored my question and left then, taking several other candy bars from a box that refilled itself with a brief surge of light. Nileva lay on the softly carpeted floor surrounded by cans of marshmellow cream, lean hands rubbing her extremely tight stomach which was threatening to burst her pants. With a grunt of effort she undid her belt, only for the steel pants button to snap off the strong canvas and bury itself in the ceiling. Her arms flopped back on the ground, the superbly fit assassin recruit utterly exhausted by her ten minute ordeal.

I cast my eyes around as another pang of hunger hit me, searching for some way I could escape this situation with my figure intact. A tall mirror set in one wall attracted my attention, showing myself as slim and fit and lovely. I was toned, lean and perfectly poised, so in shape I could bend steel with my hands or crush a man’s body with my thighs. I took in the sight, running my hands over flat abs and perky rear, squeezing my biceps and firm thighs, feeling the smooth flatness under my chin and tracing my curves, an hour glass 33-22-34 with barely an ounce of extraneous fat on it. This was the body of an Imperial Assassin, of a respected Death Dealer who would be named a senior operative after this mission, an intelligence mistress with vast resources. This was the body of someone who had exercised and practiced since child hood, denied herself pleasure until life was nothing but perfection, who could run for miles without sweating and bench press twice her weight. This was a body I had fought for, despising it when momentary slip up or magical spell had temporarily robbed me of it. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to stay thin and it seemed that not even temptations such as becoming the Grand Mistress of the Assassins Order or a life time in bed with Basil’s perfect form could have persuaded me to let myself go.

Then my stomach, flat and perfect as it was gurgled, so hard the six pack over it shook.

I found I was suddenly holding a thick loaf of sweet bread, covered in honey and studded with nuts. It was warm, fresh from a magical oven somewhere and before I knew it I had bitten into the bread, taking a huge mouth full that felt like ecstasy. Whipped cream filling dribbled out alongside cinnamon sugar and I swallowed after several seconds of frantic chewing, my whole body shivering with pleasure as it went down. Massive bite after massive bite followed, all of my physical prowess and will power suddenly focused on doing nothing more but getting one more morsel down my gullet.

My narrow cheeks chipmunked out as I devoured half a dozen cup cakes, stuffed with partially chewed pastry even as the cream collected in a pink circle around my mouth. Two bottles of sugary, orange tinted soda disappeared down my gullet one after another. At some point, my hand met Nilevas and as I saw her with food staining her lips and chest and her flat stomach stuffed so much she looked three months pregnant every chubby chasing instinct I’d picked up since I had met Basil went wild. At the same time Nileva, born and raised in a culture that elevated female gaining above all else, must have seen me as this flawless and petite thing that had suddenly let go, throwing months of strenuous diet and exercise to the winds.

Our clothes practically flew off, aided no doubt by the tightness in our mid-drifts. Our hands moved like lightning, two snatching up candies and cookies to stuff into each other’s mouths, the others pinching nipples, fondling clitorises and rubbing the swollen roundness of our stomachs. Our mouths met, each tasting like refined sugar and cream and when it came the orgasm I had was the fiercest I had yet experienced, shaking me like an earth quake and leaving me unable to move for a half hour.

When I came to I found Nileva sleeping naked on the floor, lean ebony limbs curling around a stomach that seemed about to burst. Food wrappers and clothes were everywhere, the once pristine carriage looking like a warzone. I tried to sit up, feeling the immense difficulty provided by my stomach for the first time. It took some time, but finally I could stand, helping myself up by grabbing a table.

I stood in front of a mirror, looking at myself in horror as the magic temporarily abated. My limbs were still long and lean and I had a face like a painting, save for the thick ring of frosting about my lips, but my abdomen was grossly distorted, even my steely six pack unable to hold in the huge amount of food I had scarfed down. The contents, enough to fill a pastry shop it felt like, sloshed grossly as I stood and the drum taut skin was an angry red. I found myself cradling it with one hand, the other pressed against my lower back. I looked pregnant, like I had taken up that offer of Basil’s months ago and now a pair of the twins he always seemed to fill women with were stretching me out.

Sitting down into an extremely comfortable sofa, I noticed that the wrappers and food stains were vanishing at the wagon’s magics, while the raided cabinets quickly refilled. I tried to stand and find something to wear, but a combination of the sofa’s swallowing depths and the immense weight in my gut held me down. I vowed to get up in a minute or two, to collect our old clothes and at least put on a robe to spare my dignity. Doing so took more effort than passing my final assassin’s course and after ten minutes of slowly piling our road stained clothes together I wrapped myself in a comfy robe and slid on my pair of panties and fell to the floor. I would have to purge I told myself, vomit all of this out before it ruined me. Then Nileva shivered next to me and I opened the robe to throw it partway over her. The next thing I knew, my eyes snapped open to find it was mid morning and the wagon was moving.

Nileva was beside me on the floor, both of us curled around each other for warmth. Our stomachs had flattened a bit to allow this, Nileva’s far more than mine. Both our hands had found the others privates, which probably explained the dreams I had experienced of Basil stuffing cake down my mouth and his cock up my vagina. Careful not to wake her I stood, meaning to make my way to the bathroom to clean up.

Again I caught myself in the mirror, the loose robe open to show that my stomach still bulged as evidence of last night’s frantic feast. Although it was probably psychosomatic, the thong I had grabbed still seemed incredibly tight, like it could burst at any moment.

‘Yelin is going to pay for this,’ I vowed, ‘I’ll still be steely and fit when I reach his palace, an Assassin’s will power is greater than a simple hunger and lust charm. What a surprise it will be when he finds a fit assassin in his bed instead of a fat cow.’

Five minutes later, Nileva awoke and joined me in the shower. At first we didn’t say anything, awkward at seeing each other naked again. I looked away from her gorgeous body, determined not to let the wagon used it to trick me into over eating again. Then the wagon hit a pot hole and we fell into each other, my face planting squarely into her breasts. Before I knew what I was doing, I was sucking and nibbling and our hands found their respective places again. We stumbled out, wet and panting before throwing open the cabinents and shoving food down each other’s mouths.

Afterwards, Nileva was the first to say something, panting out the words between a cream puff she was eating, ‘Ashlay, how much longer will this go on?’

‘Thirty more days to the palace,’ I gasped, feeling incredibly out of breath, ‘and then into rooms with a similar charm.’

‘And how long will we be there?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said honestly, ‘until we get to kill the Caliph.’

‘That’s good,’ the island girl said sleepily, ‘I wouldn’t want to get too full.’

‘Yeah,’ I agreed, looking down at my self. My stomach was swollen again and although it was probably my imagination I thought I saw my thighs growing together. Thickening legs or not, I was so stuffed at the moment I’d have difficulty killing a kitten, much less a caliph.

‘This is going to be a long ride.’

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Chapter II:

It had been a month since Nileva and I had gotten onto the Harem wagon. Thirty days of constant gorging, of endless groping, of the minimal clothes we had slowly growing tighter and of steady weight gain. After a time it had slowed down our gorging, leaving us time to digest in a haze and soon our stomachs began to bulge from accumulating fat rather than food. We out grew our clothes and then outgrew them again until we decided to stay nude until we stopped. The fact that Nileva and I were finding so much enjoyment in each other’s forms was the only thing that made the trip bearable, although her smug grin whenever I ate made me furious.

After traveling hundreds of miles through deserts and irrigated farm land we finally stopped at the Caliph’s citadel, giving me the option of leaving the wagon for the first time. My legs were unsteady after so little exercise in the past weeks and for a second I swayed, blinking in the sun. Nileva tried to slide past me, her paunch rubbing up against my budding love handle and for one humiliating second I thought we would get stuck before she popped by.

The damage had been pretty bad, although I knew worse was to come. My abs were covered in a soft, toneless paunch that added four inches to my waist. I could suck it in and still have a flat stomach, but eventually I would have to exhale and let it sag out. When standing it was a soft bulge, when sitting its edge had begun to touch my thighs. Once perfectly toned, my rear had been replaced by the plump, wide butt of a middle age house wife. Saggy and round, it bounced when I walked, flabby cheeks merging into hips that were themselves widening. A combination of sloth and gluttony meant that my arms and legs were rapidly losing their hard won definition. In truth there was some muscle underneath the lard, but they were far thicker than before, the biceps only popping out with effort and even then pathetically compared to two weeks ago. Lower done, my thighs were beginning to brush together if I didn’t keep my legs far enough apart. I didn’t know whether having a double chin or not having gained an ounce in my breasts was worse. I had at least gained twenty pounds, probably more for the magical cabinet in the wagon was giving me size eights now. I was certain the thing was messing with me, for the see through harem pants it had given me pinched cruely at waist, butt and thigh, giving me a muffin top and camel toe and the  cleavage showing blue top refused to meet the waist line of my pants.

Nileva on her infuriating part looked gorgeous. Yes she had put on some weight, but nowhere near as much as me. The huntress didn’t have abs anymore, but her stomach was still flat and at least had the impression of abs. Long limbs remained lean if undefined and her chin single, all of her constant gorging seeming to go straight to much larger breasts or a bulging rear end, which despite an extreme softness showed little hint of sagging or cellulite due to the buoying muscles underneath it. She blinked for a minute in the sun and stretched her arms behind her head, the motion threatening to drive her bulging D cups through the thin shirt she wore. Several of our guards stopped and stared at her before their superiors ordered them back to work. The huntress ignored them and made sure her heeled shoes were buckled right, the bending giving me an invigorating sight of her full behind.

The other girls in the caravan hadn’t faired much better. Kapo had to be at least 180 now, her snapping leather pants replaced with a roomy skirt, a new belt and a corset that gave her fat gut at least the illusion of a waist. I was less judgmental about the portly harem manager now, knowing that such a shape almost certainly awaited me in the future. 

Two of the girls were increasingly bubble butted twins from the far east that I never did get to know, each them an increasingly pudgy mirror image of each other. The youngest girl was named Terissa, a skinny blonde waif from the Imperial borderlands who had been captured in a raid. She was terrified of everything, having only escaped being ravished by her fantastic good looks which had seen her sent to Kapo almost immediately. Although still skinny, a week in the wagon had given her a near permanent food baby stretching out her white dress and I could see that she was going to put on weight quickly due to her short stature and an appetite that was big before she got captured.

Terissa’s wagon mate was named Velice, utterly gorgeous, extremely ambitious and a complete bitch. She was a princess of a city dwelling tribe, given up to the Caliph in exchange for a year’s taxes, something I later found had been her idea.  At 5’6 she was tall, with long, curling black hair and impossibly beautiful purple eyes. Before being recruited she had a firmly muscular body, with a wide ass and long legs. She had looked at my already noticeable paunch when we had met disdainfully and I had waited with glee to see her shocked face when told about the Caliph’s preference. Instead of being alarmed however, she just started eating. Velice ate like a pig day and night, soon padding over her abs with an undeniable starter belly while her thighs thickened, the gap between them steadily disappearing. She had gotten into such remarkable shape to win the Caliph’s eye and become his primary wife, upon learning of his changed tastes she determined merely to alter her own flavor from lean to chunky. She had been there only half the time as me, but had put on nearly as much weight.

It took a while to get up to the Harem chambers, spacious and luxurious rooms that were more expensive versions of the wagons, set in a wide tower with a gardened court yard. The skinnier new girls walked it fine, but I was sweating heavily by the time I got to the top. I was disgusted at how out of shape I had gotten so quickly, a month before I could have climbed the outside of the tower without breaking a sweat. Although I didn’t admit it to myself, the break the increasingly fat Kapo had called had been rather necessary for me too.

For a moment I merely lay on the soft bed in my chambers, trying to catch my breath and ignoring the hunger spells in the room, given immunity by my own exhaustion and their relative weakness compared to the ones in the wagon. I popped the first clasp on my pants, some of the pressure vanishing as I did. Intrigued I stuck out my gut as far as I could, straining the second button but not busting it. I partially undid it at the peak of pressure, the button easily sliding out as I forced it. The zipper followed immediately and I let my paunch back down. I rubbed it for a moment, its muscles sore from lack of use, and considered my options.

I could see the caliph’s bed chambers in a tower across the palace, about two hundred feet off the ground. A month ago, swinging down from my window and free running across the crenallations and marlins before springing through his window and putting a knife in his neck would have been as easy as walking down the street. In my current form however, there was no way I could make it. For a second I stood thinking, ignoring a rumbling stomach, before going to Nileva’s room which was thankfully connected through a thick ebony door.

I found my partner facing in front of a mirror topless, prodding and playing with her chest with one hand while the other held a milkshake she had gotten from somewhere. I could not tell which was pleasuring her more and I felt a pang of jealousy when I saw that despite doubling in size her breasts had lost none of their perk. I think her stomach was actually flatter than it had been.

‘Nileva,’ I began, but stopped when she turned, huge breasts and dark nipples facing me, bouncing softly and throwing my concentration.

‘Oh Ashlay,’ she said, ‘isn’t this place wonderful! My betrothed will love these when I see him next! And your tummy, its already so cute and plump and soft!’

‘Thank you,’ I said a bit taken aback, ‘but for the moment we must focus on the mission. Did you check the room?’

‘I found one scrying bug,’ the other assassin said in between sucks of her milk shake, ‘but nothing else after a thorough check. Its safe to talk, for I hid it in one of the other girl’s rooms.’

‘Good, listen now for I think we may have to change our plans?’

‘How so?’

‘The Caliph see’s no woman under 200lbs, so we’d be stuck here a while if we go that route.’

‘If only,’ she said dreamily, I noticed she was looking at my paunchy stomach and with difficulty forced it back into my pants.

‘However, I’m already fat enough that I’m unable to get to him in a more covert way. You might be able too, but it will be difficult, for he is well guarded when not with a woman.’

‘So what do you suggest?’

I sighed then, mentally preparing myself.

‘One of us needs to get fat and get fat very quickly so we can see the Caliph and kill him while the other is still thin enough to effect an escape for us.’

‘Ohhh,’ Nileva answered, ‘I volunteer then. I’ve already put on ten pounds in the last month. I’m sure I’ll get fat in no time.’

‘You would take too long,’ I said, watching her shoulders and as a consequence breasts sag as I told her, ‘because of some divine jest I’m sure you barely gain anything after eating like a pig, the only meat you pick up goes to your breasts. I on the other hand am ballooning. I checked myself out on the scale and I’ve put on twenty eight pounds in the last month.’

It hurt to say that. I was already in the high 140s and looked softer than butter. There was no hint I had ever been athletic and even worse, feeling so big and slow was starting to feel normal.

‘Twenty eight pounds?’ Nileva said, ‘that’s amazing!’

‘And I need you to help me gain more,’ I said reluctantly, ‘Nileva, I need you to feed me.’

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Chapter 12: Gorging

I really had to envy the women of the nobility. Not just for their immense wealth granted merely by the accident of birth or the many positions that society held open for them (although as they got ever fatter and lazier those would narrow), but for the fact that everything was easier for them. It had been easy for them to keep fit when they were independently wealthy, for they had nothing but time. That so many of them went over to the larger side so easily I think is an indication on just how much they really valued all those hours they put into shaping their cores and polishing their cardio. Even getting fatter was easier, for a noble woman merely had to decide, ‘I don’t feel much like cycling anymore, I’ll just have some extra cookies instead and order the servants to let my pants out a size. After all, its not like I’m going to get huge. Just a little curvier, I’d never get fat.’ If anyone had ever told them that they’d gain an average of a hundred and fifty pounds over the next five years they would have balked. If anyone had told them that they’d have go get up at dawn and stuff themselves painfully full all day, I know they would have.

My own metamorphisis from super fit femme fatale to bulging, chubby harem girl had been easy due to the brainwashing magical spells combined with just coming off a major diet. But when sweets had gone from a rare treat to common place and being able to lay around all day went from fun to boring, getting truly fat was hard work. Nileva worked my ass like a drill instructor, getting me up at 6 am for a gigantic breakfast of deep fried bacon and waffles buried under syrup, butter and cream. I would gorge until I couldn’t eat anymore, until I had thrown away my belt and collapsed on the table, face first in the syrup.

My assassin cohort would allow me little  exercise, allowing me at best to attempt sparring for a few exhausting minutes or to take a short walk in the garden to help with the digestion of my massive meals. So little exercise turned my hard earned muscles to mush beneath their doughy coating, making hauling around my increasingly huge ass even harder. Walking up stairs was torturous, sitting up increasingly difficult as my swollen gut buried me and forced me to roll over to get out of bed. I almost began weeping when I realized that my flabby, toneless arms were getting heavy to hold up, but Nileva gave me no time to cry.

Sloth and gluttony hit me like a charge of heavy cavalry. As I entered my mid twenties my formerly humming bird metabolism had already morphed to that of a bear fattening up for winter anyway, weight becoming increasingly harder to lose and keep off. Now that I was gaining intentionally the already significant fat I had put on in the wagon surged outwards like a never receding tide.

My formerly slim, heart shaped face exploded outwards, gaining two chubby chip monk cheeks even when I wasn’t stuffing myself. My firm chin softened into a fat double and my swan like neck grew thick. The thin layer of softness over my arms turned into thick deposits of fat over my deflating biceps and ever increasing bingo wings on my formerly toned triceps. My forearms got seriously meaty, my wrists had dimples and my nimble fingers grew thick and clumsy. The farther down my body I went the worse the damage got, the merely humiliating changes in my upper body becoming down right horrifying.

My once perky tits had changed from the still high and gratifyingly large Cs my previous slight weight gain had earned into a massive, sagging pair of DDs. Like most girls I had always wanted a bigger rack, but not in the way I got it. There was not one trace of tone or perkiness in the slack slabs of adipose off my chest, which gave me back aches if I didn’t wear a bra. When I did wear one they were pushed up enough to at least hide some of the all enveloping spread of my gut.

Once a defined collection of lats and abs, my belly had gone from the wagon fed paunch into the gut of a true fatass. A massive slope that instantly transformed into an array of deep folds whenever I angled my back at all, it rested limply on my legs, filling my lap as I sat and allowing only midriff baring shirts. Each of my love handles was gigantic, a heavy, shapeless bag of fat on my sides that sagged so easily they practically merged with my ridiculous ass.

I had been proud of my ass’ shape and tone for a decade, now months of gluttony had turned that pride to shame. It was gigantic, amorphous and so wide and deep I couldn’t see all of it turning around. I actually sat several inches higher there was so much fat behind me. My ass merged into my waddling thighs that rubbed against each other as I walked. At some point they had grown so thick I could no longer easily cross them, but I had lost track of when that was.

I was utterly unrecognizable, just as fat as Yvarra had been when I had seen her. Worse, my priestess friend had had seven inches on me in height and a tendency to be top heavy. At only five feet I was practically spherical, a rotund ball of fat that was utterly helpless. Despite my ever growing girth I was determined to put in at least a few minutes a day in sparring with Nileva to remember my moves. This only furthered my humiliation.

Lightning fast reflexes honed over decades grew increasingly slow as the body my mind commanded went from hyper fit to lumbering behemoth. Once I had been able to beat Nileva to a figurative pulp despite her height advantages and even when I had first arrived at the Harem I had been able to put her on her back easily, even with an extra twenty five pounds. The seventy five that came after that were another story. Now I was too slow to land a hit and able to keep up for only a few minutes before I had to bow out, red faced and sweating.

Nileva for her part drove me furious. She was still getting to exercise and indeed was even doing situps and secretive night time free running whenever able. At the same time she always had a pastry in hand for herself whenever she was stuffing food in my mouth. The Huntress’ breasts, already eye catching perky DDs, practically inflated into zeppelin E cups. There was some slight rounding on her skinny hips and maybe just a slightly thicker layer of fat on her belly, but she could still easily fit into her assassins clothes and I knew that within a week of leaving this place her firm abdominal muscles would be clear again.

We were not the only girls that gained. The twins whose names I had never learned also grew heavily in the ass department, becoming two gigantic pears that were far too fat to go through the door at the same time, but lagged behind me when It came to breast and belly. Terrissa had grown an extremely plump gut and three chins to bracket her plump breasts, the formerly flatchested blonde growing almost as busty as Nileva. Her will power had never been great to begin with and she had never stopped eating at the same rate as she had in the wagon.

Velice however, was the only girl to match me in the fat department. The sultry eyed beauty with her flat belly and long legs was gone, buried under a mountain of cellulite and replaced with a piggish, rotund woman more suited to a circus fat lady show. Her belly was so huge it forced her legs apart when we sat and sagged down between her knees. Meanwhile her mammoth breasts were in the G cup range, held up by the heroic efforts of a chainmail bra. Walking for me was difficult, but she panted and moaned like it was an Olympic event.

Finally, after months of growing obesity and humiliating stuffing came the selection. Kopa returned to the harem after a long absence, looking positively svelte. Her stomach was still puffy and there was a suggestion of middle aged roundness about her face and hips, but she had to be down to the 150s at least. Compared to me she was tiny and I swear there was a brief smile of vengeance on her face as she surveyed the porcine ruins of the skinny beauties she had collected and once outweighed by a good 70 lbs.

‘The Caliph has announced that he shall take the fattest of you to bed tonight,’ said Kopa hautily, hand resting on the same belt she had once worn, although now at a much deeper hole.

We were rusted from our feeding and forced one by one onto a vast bronze scale.

Nileva was first, a relatively fit 135 lbs that would have been a disappointment if she had actually been trying to hit 200. Both twins were 180, fat and flabby but still under weight. Terrissa waddled to the scale and pulled back her belly to see 196, only four pounds off from the mark weight. Velice went next, breathing like a horse as she maneouvered her bulk onto the scale. Its dials rocketed immediately to 227 lbs, a gain of more than a hundred pounds.

Finally it was my turn. Part of me wished it to be under 200 lbs, just to avoid crossing over into what I had always considered the territory of true fat girls. Most of me knew that the sooner I was the fattest girl here, the sooner I could start working out again. I held in my breath and stepped on the scale, unable to see the dials due to my fat belly.

‘227 lbs exact!’ cried Kopa, motioning to the eunuch guards to fetch another sedan chair, ‘It looks like the Caliph shall have a three some tonight!’

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Chapter 13: Battle in the Caliph’s Throne Room

That night, both Velice and I were led into the Caliph’s throne room.

Well, I say led but in truth I mean carried. Both of us were in horrifyingly bad physical condition by this point, having put on well over a hundred pounds during a few short months in the Caliph’s harems. All traces of Velice’s once lithe figure were gone, buried under a sea of lard that could barely be forced into the sedan chair that whisked her to the palace. Not that I could say much, my mammoth rear so huge I had to shove myself with both hands into my conveyance. At the very least no one could think I was an assassin, in my present condition I was barely capable of threatening a kitten. We had both been ritually washed in rose water and dressed to the Caliph’s order, both of us in bikinis of scale mail, mine black and hers silver.

After only a few minutes of travel, our exhausted bearers brought us into the Caliph’s private chambers. Impossibly luxurious, they dwarfed Basil’s rooms despite Yelin ruling a much smaller realm. The Caliph awaited us on his gold plated throne, a slim and fit young man, if one on the short side. He had the look of cleverness about him, but lacked both Basil’s gargantuan strength and basic decency. You could call Yelin clever, but he would never earn the title wise, for where Basil bedded women in full armor, Yelin wore only a loin cloth.

‘Ah, what lovely beauties Kopa has brought me today,’ Yelin said, oil practically dripping off his voice, ‘which of you shall I have first?’

‘Me!’ Velice said immediately, stepping forwards so quickly her jiggly bulk snapped the string on her overtaxed bra. Both of her wobbling tits surged forwards, sagging and plopping faster than her pudgy hands could have hoped to catch them. To her credit, Velice merely posed as if the whole thing had been planned.

‘Both!’ I said just as fast, although my clothing thankfully stayed on. I did however, hear a stitch or two pop in the back of my skirt.

‘What an intriguing suggestion,’ Yelin said, leaning back in his throne and running a hand on his short beard, ‘you two are rather large, but fortunately my bed is more than large enough for both of you. Guards, you are dismissed.’

As his attendants left, leaving the three of us alone, I noticed a shadow behind the Caliph, just outside the immense window framing his throne. Smiling, I started slowly walking backwards towards the huge gates shut tight behind me. Yesin had started forwards, eager to sink her claws into the caliph’s chubby chasing heart, but paused when she saw me walking backwards. Both my soft hands were behind me and they found the key still wedged in the door’s lock.

‘I’m so sorry Caliph, but I must remove my offer,’ I said, shifting my hips so that the mail’s jingle would cover the click of the lock and the key being removed.

‘Oh and why is that?’ he asked, face slowly turning red with rage, ‘no woman has ever rejected my offers before! You shall be flogged for this impudence whore!’

‘Because I don’t sleep with dead men.’

Nileva came through the window, feet tight together as she swung through. Her armored vest was skin tight, forcing her huge breasts to surge upwards. A slight muffin top spread through the gap between her pants and shirt, evidence of that she hadn’t been stuffing only me. As she spun through the air, I saw that her legs were still shapely through her tight pants, but were noticeably thickening, merging seamlessly into a booty that was much larger than I remembered.

To his credit, Yelin didn’t die immediately. He grabbed a scimitar from somewhere and tried to defend himself, desperately keeping the sword between the flickering daggers in Nileva’s hands. He made a good effort of it, but I had other things on my mind.

‘Traitor!’ screamed Velice, seeing her dreams of being an official consort slipping away. She surged at me, her long nailed hands outstretched like claws. Luckily for me she moved slowly, giving me ample time to get my own huge body ready.

I may have turned into a butterball, but I still remembered how to fight. I grabbed one of her hands and tried to slip past her, hoping to trip her over as I hopped back. While this might have worked flawlessly back when I was slim, my own bloated form betrayed me. Slowed by more than a hundred pounds, I didn’t go back in time and while I tripped Velice I went down as well. Despite so much padding, the floor still drove the wind from both of us.

The rest of the fight devolved into a disgraceful grappling match. All of my moves centered upon moving lightly and gracefully, not being an out of shape mess. Fortunately I was barely able to get on top of her, attempts to bar her arm or get her in a head lock barred when someone’s roll of fat got in my way. Strangling her proved difficult, as huge amounts of cleavage and belly fat got in the way.  Finally I was able to get my hands around her neck and choked her unconscious, something that didn’t take very long due to how winded she was.

Panting heavily myself, I managed to get up and see Nileva still dueling the Caliph. Nileva had a great deal more skill, but Yelin was a more than passable swordsman. Worse, although Nileva was positively svelte by harem standards, she was more than a little out of shape. Still rather lithe, she had grown soft and her muscles were flabby. She was panting heavily and her attacks were getting sloppy. Already I could hear guards hammering on the outside of the door, trying to force their way in. We were running out of time.

‘I’ll have to handle this,’ I muttered, looking around for a weapon.

The only thing in sight proved to be a heavy vase, decorated with a pornographic picture depicting two women half my size. I bent to pick it above my head with difficulty, my arms and legs burning with so much exercise in one day. The effort of bending ripped the back of my chain mail bikini off and when I stood upwards and lifted the vase above my head, the unexpected effort snapped the string on my bra too.

‘Yelin!’ I screamed at him, lumbering forwards, a mass of jiggling blubber.

The Caliph’s fat hunting instints betrayed him, for just a moment he froze as my obese form ran at him. One of Nileva’s daggers hit him in the stomach and before he could react, the heavy vase crushed his skull.

‘You should have finished that earlier,’ I accused Nileva, poking my thick finger into her soft starter belly. Had I not been exhausted I would have been aroused,  ‘you’re getting out of shape.’

I bent to pick up the dead Caliph’s sword, groaning as a cramp hit my overtaxed thighs. I had to push myself up with my other hand.

‘You should talk,’ she said, gallows humor at a time like this, ‘although it proved helpful in the fight, with all of Yelin’s blood running to his cock and not his brain.’

‘You should run,’ I said, ‘you can still escape. I’ll hold them off or pretend to be unconscious.’

‘I’d never abandon a friend,’ she said, ‘we came together, we’ll die together.’

As it turned out, neither of us had to die.

Out in the city’s harbor was a thick chain, raised to block entrance at night. Someone had skillfully sawed through it in the gloom, letting in an invasion fleet carrying all of Basil’s Imperial Guard. The Emperor was the first man onto the peer and he led his veteran troops against Yelin’s soft garrison, cutting them to pieces. A vast roar went up when they hit the barracks of the Caliph’s cohorts, the sound of battle drawing away the guards trying to get into the throne room.

‘Help me with his body,’ I said to NIleva, ‘I’ve got an idea.’

The palace’s towers were well lit, even outside the tower. We managed to put a rope around the dead Caliph’s legs and lower him out the window, on display for everyone to see. The fighting in the central square down below was fierce, but once they saw the dead caliph’s body, the fight went out of his troops. Basil killed them by the hundred, personally slaying ten of Yelin’s champions.

‘So I have you two to thank for my victory,’ Basil said to us when he entered the throne room, his plate stained with enemy blood.

I had at least found a set of drapes to put over myself, covering up my basic nakedness. But nothing could cover up the immense amount of weight I had gained. In front of Basil’s officers, hardened men and women leaned by years of fighting, even Nileva was revealed as the out of shape operative she was. I looked positively elephantine in comparison.

‘It was all in a day’s work my Emperor,’ I said, doing a curtsy with the dress that showed quite a bit more than I intended. For his credit, Basil kept eye contact with me.

‘I will have to see that you are suitably rewarded.’

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Sorry for the wait.

Chapter 14: Ball

Six months after Basils triumph over the caliph and I was back home in the Imperial capital, promoted, bored and worst of all fat.

My superiors in the Assassins order hadn't fired me, they hadn't even suspended me, but I was on indefinite paid leave. Killing the Caliph was a nice feather in my cap, but the months of gorging I had needed to get close left me incapable of any combat mission. More than a hundred pounds twenty pounds of hefty lard coated my body, making me helpless as a kitten when it came to fighting.

My peerless endurance had vanished, once I could free run over rooftops for hours, but now I sweated from a short walk. Once I had been supremely graceful, now my chunky body clumsily lurched from place to place, my over heavy bottom knocking over chairs, and I moved with glacial slowness as I tried to keep up my martial arts practice, once lightning reflexes made sluggish by soft muscles and too much weight.

I was a fat ass now, every trace of my muscular body gone. Once steely thighs rubbed together when I walked, while the tub of lard that had replaced my six pack fought against the small corset I wore to give myself the illusion of a waist line. My ass, formerly my crowning glory, was replaced with two vast hemispheres of dough. Even my heart shaped face had changed, made bloated and jowly by over eating.

Still at least I wasn't alone in my misery, even if I was the only one miserable.

'You've lost weight,' Yvarra said to me from the other side of the carriage, looking rather rotund herself.

She was in a sleeveless, backless and strapless dress of green, the tiny garment left nothing on her fat form up to the imagination and had to be held on with magic. Her stomach stretched out the dresses belly window, while her vast leakage seemed poised to pop out of her low cut top. Long leather boots encased her thick legs, which went up TP mid thigh, leaving bare several inches of soft tan flesh between their top and the short hem of her dress. A vast fur coat and an assemblage of jewels finished off the ensemble, while her long black hair gleamed where it was piled on her head.

The vehicle belonged to the curvacian temple, a stately coach with an inbuilt magical heater, soft bench seats and glass windows. Yvarra had been promoted again recently and granted its use in non official functions. Despite wanting all theExercise I could get, I was glad of its warm comfort for winter had come and dumped a great deal of snow on the streets.

'Thirty pounds since I've gotten back,' I said proudly, 'although I'm still just above 200, I've been plateauing the last couple weeks. I'd have hoped it would be more, I've been working out all day and dieting like mad these past months, but losing this is so hard.'

'Try gaining then, its so much more fun,' Yvarra teased, taking a chocolate cherry from a tray and plopping it in her plump mouth.

'I haven't had candy in months', I said as a Loud gurgle. erupted from my paunchy stomach. Yvarra giggled again and ate another candy.

'Sounds like your tummy misses it,' she teased.

'It shouldn't, there was enough candy in the Caliphs palace to choke even your temple. I got so sick of stuffing myself, but my body got acclimatized. I've been out longer than I was in and my stomach still wants fed all day.'

'So let it Ashlay,' Yvarra said leaning forward, her bulk eliciting a groan from the seat as she did so, 'there's nothing wrong with being heavy anymore. I doubt there's a non career military noblewoman in the empire who hasn't let herself go by now. Even some of my Paladins are starting to let themselves get beer guts.'

'Im an assassin, not a priestess. I'm paid to fight, to infiltrate, spy and disappear and I can't do that at this weight. Besides, I hate being fat.'

'Really?' Asked Yvarra, cocking one exquisite lay plucked brow, 'I've never had a problem.'

'Your knees don't hurt?' I ask, 'your backs not sore from lugging those mammoth boobs around? You don't get winded easily or have trouble seeing your feet? Your blood pressure isn't high?'

'All of that's true I suppose,' Yvarra admitted, 'but it can be overcome. I still exercise some and there are always servants.'

'You're one of the  highest ranked priestess in the city, you've got cash coming out your fat ears. You could afford servants even if the church didn't give them too you. I'm going to be lucky if I still have a job come new year.'

'You really think you'll lose your job?' Concern crinkled her soft brow.

'Ive been on medical leave for six months and I haven't lost a third of the weight I need to in order to pass the fitness exams in two months. Me being a hero for killing the Caliph gives me cover, but I'd already be out otherwise.'

'Well, you still have your looks,' Yvarra said helpfully.

'Yeah, buried under all this fat.'

'Im serious Ashlay,' Yvarra said, taking a second to sit up, her dress threatening to burst, 'You look gorgeous. Girls would kill to have those monster hips and there's not a man in the empire who doesn't want his head buried between thunder thighs like yours. And I bet even you can't not enjoy how that big gut shakes during fucking.'


'Ashlay I'm shocked! You, a fat girl virgin.'

'Hey, I've had lots of sex before. I lost my virginity in assassin school at 14.'

'Yeah, but that was as a skinny girl,' she touted, 'trust me fat sex is way better. Even when I was pregnant I made sure I orgasmed daily.'

'How often do you have sex?' I asked more than a little shocked.

'Oh at least every day,' she said, 'if I'm too busy to take an hour off for Sacrificial Coital duty in the never ending orgy pit then I just have my secretary do it. She's a lovely girl, but getting a bit big to fit under my desk for a quick oral anymore.'

'Is fucking all you priestesses do all day?'

'Oh no, there's lots of paper work and giving alms and blessing fields and birthing babies. Oh and eating, we have at least two buffets and a feast each day. But since the High Priestess removed the work out requirements for everyone but the paladins it's mostly just screwing that fills our free time

'I wish, I haven't had a girl since I did Nileva back in the harem,' I admitted.

'Ohh she was such a tight little thing, it turned me on how much she ate. Did she get as fat as you did? I've got a letter from one of our priestesses saying she got married, but it didn't mention weight.'

'No she only gained 20 lbs there and most of that went to her hips. She never stopped eating though and was pushing one fifty when she left back for her island with a pair of massive H cups. Silly girl, she had a perfect body and threw it away. She could have been a great assassin, now she'll just be another of her people's overfed warriors. I hope they have an opening for me.'

'You know, if your assassin career does flounder, I'm sure I could find you a place in our temple.'

'Really, that's kind of you,' I said, 'but I don't know if I'm cut out for that.'

'Well there would be a couple years of introductory work first and a tour as a temple prostitute, but I'm sure you'd do great. An assassin surely has the hand dexterity and memory for evoking divine magic and with your looks you'd have men lining up.'

'I'll keep that in mind,' I said, lurching slightly as the carriage rolled to a stop.

We were at the Imperial Palace, just another pricy coach overfed noble women were hauling themselves out of, trying not to burst their strained dresses. It was the Imperial Solstice Ball, the largest Galla of the year. Yvarra had come on the part of her temple, bringing a pack of flabby stunners with her in following coaches.

As an assassin I had never been to an event like this outside security, but this year I had an invitation.

Signed by the Emperor himself.

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