James Duke
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The Chandelier
🕑 Added 2025-02-09 19:37:53 +0000 UTCTags: Sex, Extreme weight gain, gas & slob, corruption
First story of the month! Hope you all enjoy! This one was a little wilder than normal, but I think you all will enjoy the spice!
--- Punishment ---
Cyrieal the thief knew she was in trouble as she stared at the princess. The little street urchin had seen much growing up on the dusty streets of Aknash. Grim faced guards, filthy beggars, and prostitutes plying their carnal trade were all common sights for her. Yet, in the teeming mass which made up the desert kingdom, she had never seen the likes of Princess Alleeya.
Alleeya Moushrad Bagmahl Mourne was the ruler of Aknash, the sole source of justice for the great city. She sat upon a pillowed throne, her eyes boring into those waiting for punishment to be dispensed. Cyrieal knew this princess was trouble from the way she sat. Though a thief and beggar, Cyrieal knew well how trained ladies were supposed to sit. Their figures were supposed to demurely fill their chairs, with poise and refined restraint marking their posture. Alleeya sat like a barely chained animal. Her hands clutched at the armrests of the throne, exquisitely done nails gouging the jeweled eyes of carved lions. Though her feet and legs were hidden under her expensive dress, Cyrieal could tell the young princess was ready to launch herself from the seat. Worst of all, her eyes were trained on the caught thief. Cyrieal shivered, knowing her judgement would be swift and terrible. Alleeya seemed the type to want to wield the headsman’s axe herself.
“So. . .a thief.” Alleeya’s voice cracked like a whip. She was only a few years older than Cyrieal, but the sharpness of her tone made her seem even older. “Disgusting.” Alleeya stood from the throne. The princess even walked like a jackal, circling around her prey. Cyrieal was small and undersized from a lifetime of hunger. Alleeya was thin and decidedly taller than Cyrieal, possessing little in the way of breasts or hips. Yet, there was a jagged beauty in her form. Alleeya’s hair was straight and brown, contrasting with Cyrieal’s short, black curls. The princess ran her hands through Cyrieal’s hair, though calm and controlled it was not a friendly action. “Worse still, a thief that is bad at her trade.” Alleeya scoffed. She walked around Cyrieal once more before stopping. “Do you think you would do much better without these?” Alleeya lifted Cyrieal’s bound hands with calm that spoke of restrained violence. The princess seemed close to unhinging her jaw and devouring the small criminal. “By rights, I could take them. You have used them against the merchants of our beautiful city.”
“I’m. . .so sorry.” Cyrieal spoke, so afraid that she forgot to use the proper honorifics. “I was so hungry. The merchant. . .he had so many dates. . .I thought he would never miss a few.” Cyrieal confessed her crimes again, just as she had when the guard’s hand had clamped around her wrist. “I apologize to the royal house for disturbing the peace.”
“We do not want your apologies.” Alleeya sniffed, dropping Cyrieal’s hands. “Rather, we want your atonement.” Alleeya spoke only for herself. The royal family had perished long ago, leaving only her left. She was the arbiter of everything within Aknash.
“What. . .what would you have me do?” Cyrieal asked, her knees knocking together.
Alleeya thought for a moment, trying to decide what should be done with the troublesome thief. Her eyes searched around the deserted, smoky chamber. Gold was reflected in the brown pools of the princess’ eyes. She saw the wonders of her family dynasty: tapestries, thrones, sconces, and even a grand chandelier made up the treasure of the hall. Cyrieal, and other criminals like her, were blights upon all that craftsmen made. She would have robbed the hall blind, absconding with the treasure just to make sure her belly was filled from now until she went to the gray halls of death. A shiver of rage passed through Alleeya as she considered how low Cyrieal was. Filthy beggars and thieves were blights upon the canvas of her city and country. The anger parted suddenly, a thought coming to Alleeya. She sprang away from Cyrieal, picking up her dress and running to her throne. Next to one of the carved lions was a bowl filled with sweets. She picked it up and brought it to her prisoner.
“Eat.” Alleeya said, her voice calm and understated.
Cyrieal was unwilling to, but the gleam in the taller woman’s eyes told her that she had to. Whatever this punishment was going to be, it had to be better than losing her arms. Alleeya’s nails clicked on the bowl as waited for her prisoner to dip her hands in. Both women shivered as Cyrieal finally took the plunge, though for different reasons. The small thief took a handful and brought them to her face. She ate them, each bite slow and questioning as she stared at the queen. Alleeya loomed over her like a bent tree, excited as the first steps of Cyrieal’s punishment began. “More. More.” Alleeya was violently calm, but cracks of excitement shone through. She pushed the bowl towards her prisoner. “The whole bowl.” She instructed, fingers moving like breeding spiders against the roundness. Cyrieal ate as though the bowl was going to be her final meal.
It seemed a fitting way for her to be punished. She had gotten caught trying to steal a meal, so she would be allowed one more before she gave up her hands or life as payment. The dates squished in her mouth, juice running down the sides of her lips. She chewed fearfully, taking long looks at the mad princess to see what was next. Alleeya sometimes met her gaze, holding it with intensity that the short thief didn’t know existed, but at other times she stared up at the vaulted ceiling of the palace. Cyrieal did not look anywhere other than the bowl or Alleeya’s face. She knew she could very well be choosing the last sights before she was killed. She continued eating her supposed last meal.
Yet, it would prove not to be a last meal. Rather, it would only be the first of many.
--- A Feast For The Court ---
Cyrieal moaned as more plates were put on the table, clinking and clattering against the others which already existed. She hated the table with all of her heart. She was far too scared of Alleeya to hate her, so the excess emotion was channeled into the fiendish table. It was deserved, the insidiousness of its design only apparent to one that had sat at it for hours as Cyrieal had. Hidden to all except the most careful observers, or the person at the head of its long expanse, the table was slightly canted. The end opposite Cyrieal rested higher than the end where she sat. Thus, the plates constantly flowed down towards her. Slowly, slipping upon the polished surface, everything that was placed upon the table came towards her. It was a constantly flowing river of calories and food. Whatever she did not eat, eventually spilled on her and clattered away. Thus, was Cyrieal made sport of by Alleeya for the amusement of the Aknashi court.
Cyrieal struggled against her bonds, golden chords tightened against her wrists. She could only move so much, just enough to take a plate and bring it to her lips. The chords, shining and golden, would not allow for anything more than that. Even as they stretched to allow Cyrieal to eat, the bands tightened. It was often easier to eat by using her mouth only. She had thus far made it through the endless feasts by leaning down into her food, only occasionally bringing a plate up to her lips when the shame grew too great. Such was the case when the servants brought a new load of meals. Cyrieal grabbed a bowl of soup with roasted goat hunks floating in it. The bonds glimmered with gold and pulled against her hands. Not for the first time Cyrieal wondered if they were a reminder of what had been given to her. She had been allowed to keep her hands and they remained unmarred. . .though the same could not be said of the rest of the thief.
Unending meals delivered at odd times and stretching on for too long had gone a long way towards decimating the thief’s body. In a relatively short span of time, she could not say how long, Cyrieal had gone from never having a pound of excess fat. . .to seemingly being made completely from it. Her stomach filled her lap, swallowing the space between her and the table. Her thighs and butt filled the chair, leaking out into open space. The little loincloth that she was permitted had been swallowed by her blubbery legs. The matching cloth running across her breasts hardly covered anything that was not her nipples. Cyrieal could not even remember the stages between skinny and her current obesity. It was as if she had awoken as a 300 pound woman. Doubtless, the lack of continuity was because of Alleeya.
“Don’t stop now!” The princess descended upon her prisoner like an owl. Her footsteps were always silent, with only the aura of malignancy and the tickle of her painted talons as warnings. Her hands clutched the flabby arms of her prisoner lightly, fingers dancing and fidgeting as she tested the goods on her prisoner. Alleeya’s movement stopped as she felt Cyrieal moving again. The thief, trying very hard not to be sport for the princess, reached down and grabbed another plate. She brought it to her face, letting the morsels of grilled pheasant slide into her open mouth. Cyrieal ate, her bites becoming more erratic as she felt the food sliding towards her. Her bloated belly had stretched and made contact with the table, its tautness making her intimately aware of how much food was to come.
“Eat, eat!” Alleeya prodded the side of Cyrieal’s belly. “It’s been a lifetime of missing meals. Let me fill you up.” The princess grabbed the middle of her prisoner’s stomach, fingers slipping into the growing piles of fat. Underneath the blubber was an endless churning as Cyrieal stomach tried to digest her feasts. Alleeya’s other hand stroked Cyrieal’s hair, toying with the long curls. They had grown long and unkempt since her imprisonment, now reaching down past her plump back rolls. Alleeya tugged on the black strands lightly, playing with the sweat locks. Cyrieal attended to her eating, using that as a way to ignore the hateful aura steaming off of the princess. Djinn and other monsters seemed less malicious than the jagged hipped woman. Certainly, Cyrieal thought, it was easier to make a deal with those. Instead, she was an instrument of the Aknashi crown.
“Mmmmggphph. . .ooommmgghph. . .” Cyrieal could no longer eat quietly after a while, her mouth hanging open from sheer exhaustion. Her stomach was distended, packed with all manner of expensive and lavish meals. She was stained from her face down with food. There was no way she could avoid the mess. Owing to the unique design of the table, whatever Cyrieal did not eat would eventually slide off the table to splatter onto her lap and legs. The stains above her waist were from messy eating. Whatever politeness Cyrieal wanted to show was eroded over time. By necessity of eating quickly her manners were cast away. She slopped through deep bowls of soup and beans, stacks of roasted meats, and platters of puddings. It only grew worse as her arms were too tired to fight against her restraints. She would smack her face into the food, stomach pushing away other dishes to crash onto the floor.
The feeding, as all others before it, continued until Cyrieal was delirious. She spun and wavered in her seat, groaning. Her hands fumbled plates that she meant to eat. When she dipped her face down to slurp off the plates, she licked the wood more than she found actual dishes. Her face and body were a dripping mess. The world swam around Cyrieal’s eyes: plates of unfinished food, laughing courtiers, disgusted servants, and the ever present grin of Alleeya. Cyrieal could no more fight the visions away than she could keep her head up. She pitched forward, face landing in a sugary custard. She gave a deep groan before falling into unconsciousness completely.
FFFFLLLLRRRRPPPTTTT! A fart was belted out of her rear as she relinquished control of her body. Alleeya clapped her hands, celebrating this newest stage of deviancy. Yet, the smile was gone quickly. She had to divine other punishments for her captured thief. A princess’ work was never truly done.
--- Corridor Waddle ---
“Come along,” Alleeya paused momentarily, realizing that she had never learned the name of the woman whose punishment and rehabilitation she was so actively overseeing. In the next moment, she decided it mattered little. What mattered was getting her charge to the night’s festivities. “I won’t be late because of your bumbling.” Alleeya’s grin was so bright and wide that it outshone the candles in the chandeliers above their heads. She spoke to an empty corridor, her voice traveling down and around towards her lumbering charge. Alleeya smelled and heard Cyrieal long before she saw her.
BBBBBBLLLLLRRRRTT! A gust of rancid wind and deep trumpeting was the response to Cyrieal’s call. FLLLLLLLRRRT! Another came moments later, echoing off the stone walls. Sound could travel for hundreds of feet in the stone corridors. It pleased Alleeya greatly to know that her prisoner would announce her own presence. Alleeya had servants with booming voices, trained in the art of voice projection. Cyrieal only had her meaty, sweaty asscheeks and the gas fermenting in her gut. BBLLOOOORRRMMMPPPTT! This time the fart was accompanied by the wet sound of perspirant covered asscheeks slapping together. Alleeya almost danced with happiness, ready to see her prisoner coming around the corner. The heavy steps and wheezing, weak breath hummed through the floor to reach the deranged princess.
“BBBBLOOOOOORRRUUP. . .I. . .huh-pologizsche. . .lady. . .Allee-hah,” Cyrieal spoke through lips sticky with honey and turned dark because of endless chocolate. Her hands, clumsy from fat and covered with the very same chocolate which coated her face, switched between squeezing her gurgling, churning gut and fumbling against the wall for support. Regardless of the movement, Cyrieal’s body made wet clapping sounds. The sounds of fat hitting fat were complemented by the jangle and tinkle of jewelry. Though still draped in a loin cloth and tattered top, made all the worse by her stink and sweat, Cyrieal had been bedecked in jewels and ladies’ finery. Gold strands hung from her every fold, almost like leafing on the pages of a book.
The two women approached each other. Cyrieal was too tired to be timid and too fat to move with anything other than a waddle. She was over 600 pounds of corrupted flesh, smothering an already stunted physique. Meanwhile, Alleeya ran at a quick and undignified pace. She had always been fast, possessing a stride that could carry her towards bounding prey. The two met and the differences between them became manifest once more. Alleeya towered over Cyrieal, craning down and over the rolls of fat. She seemed like one of the great pythons of the jungles, her wiry figure coiling around her succulent hog prey. Alleeya’s hand closed around one of Cyrieal’s arms whilst her mouth around a fat tit. Alleeya sucked on a breast bigger than her head, tongue playing with a newly pierced nipple. The gold ring running through Cyrieal’s breast could have bought a small house within the city. The matching one on her other breast would have bought horses and servants for the new estate. Cyrieal blushed as the venomous creature of wealth and power played with her fat.
“Oooooh, you wear my father’s treasure hoard with such. . .sophistication.” Alleeya’s voice was sharp, as was the smack that she gave Cryieal’s rump. Golden chains starting and terminating at Cryieal’s bellybutton floated upon waves of brown blubber. BBBBBRRRMMM-FFFRRRPPTT! The wealth of Alleeya’s family was doused in another blast of gas. The princess did not mind. “A kingdom's ransom, now resting upon a pig.” Alleeya purred, hands playing with the various piercings she had insisted on. “But such compromises must be made.” She backed away and shrugged. “An event such as this requires finery, and no tailor would tolerate your odor.” Alleeya spoke like Cyrieal had chosen that particular facet of her appearance.
“Thanksscccch. . .BBBLOOOOORRUUP. . .you. . .uuurrffsscch. . .for. . .HOOORRRUUP. . .your giftsssccch.” Cyrieal wheezed, hoping she could sit soon. The weight of her fat and the jewels upon her was sapping any strength she had remaining in her bloated appendages.
“. . .’thank you, your Eminence. . .mightiest queen of a dynasty ten thousand years strong’. . .” Alleeya rolled her hand as she spoke parts of her full title. The Aknashi monarchs had never been shy about their titles but the current despot out did them all, Alleeya’s list of titles grew by the week.
“Yuh. . .yusscch your. . .Emmi-” Cryieal started.
“Oh, we don’t have the time for your mouth-slobber. . .as cute as it is.” Alleeya grabbed and squished Cyrieal’s face. Her thin hands were hidden under facial fat. She shook off the sweat before walking away. “Come now,” She tugged one of the prisoner’s golden chains as a leash. Cyrieal lumbered after, still trying to puff out the words of her lady’s title.
--- Throne and Chandelier ---
“Something is not quite right with you.” Alleeya said one night, her eyes shining as she stared at Cyrieal. The two were tucked away from the court, hidden within one of the many royal sleeping rooms. It was not Alleeya’s bedroom, as she would not allow the constant flatulence and oppressive body stink of her prisoner to contaminate her living quarters. Instead, the prisoner fouled up a guest room. Alleeya made a disgusted noise and slunk off the bed. She moved like an old lioness, one that had hunted antelopes and her own kind alike. There was power and cruelty in all of her movements, subtle jerks and ticks that were only consciously noticeable after spending much time with her. Cyrieal had cataloged them all, then forgot as endless indulgence filled her mind.
“Mmmmgghph. .my. . .BBBLLEEEOOORRUP. . .apologiessch. . .my. . .princesscch.” Cyrieal slurred her words, food dribbling out of her mouth. She sat upon a throne, one built in mockery of the great seats of the desert kingdoms. It had been hewn out of a boulder. Designing for comfort was unnecessary as Cyrieal’s limitless fat now cushioned her at all times. The most that had been done was to cut a vague chair shape into the rock and polish it down. The only artistry was at the bottom, wherein “See the workings of endless greed” had been inscribed in gold lettering. Cyrieal’s fat feet rested just above the glowing inscription, dripping sweat onto it. “I would . .mmmgghph. . .scch-angssche. . .mmmmmgghph. . .anyfing. . .mmmghopgh. . .for you!” Cyrieal said between hurried bites, trying to obey the demands of her stomach.
The food was provided by servants, a crowd always seemed to follow the pair these days. They hefted trays and platters to Cyrieal’s lips, knowing that her arms were too clumsy and slow to feed at Alleeya’s demanding schedule. A schedule which was shared by Cyrieal’s own gut. Cyrieal had no control anymore. Her unconscious desires had been bent to the whims of Alleeya. At least, so far as her hunger went.
BBBBBBLLLLRRRRRT! Her butt rumbled with another gaseous betrayal. Serving girls cried and ran from the gas, trying to escape its reach. It wafted up and around the seething pockets of sweat which fermented in her rolls. FFFRRRRPPPPPT! There was another blast of gas, to rattle the jewels, chains, and piercings which were strung along Cyrieal’s fat. She could not even guess or count how many piercings she had, or even say where they lay. At best, Cyrieal could say that the newest were: the six divided between either eyebrow, a large ring which was strung through her nose, a jewel under her bottom lip, and two rubies in her cheek dimples. There were far, far more than that though. Fat and gold lay upon the short, immobile thief, always dancing to her gaseous eruptions. Or to the motions set about by Alleeya’s pawing.
“I know what it is. . .” Alleeya fanned the gas away and approached her prisoner, studying the corpulent mass upon the roughly chiseled, mock throne. There was something unfitting, a discordant element to what she had so carefully sewn upon her prisoner. Alleeya inspected the elements of her tanned prisoner, seeing them individually and how they intersected. Cryieal’s fat made up the base loam for all else to spring from. The jewels and piercings were fruits to be nourished by the streams of sweat and polished by the rolling folds. The gas was the sweeping wind to keep everything in motion. As the powerful, fetid blasts were released, Cyrieal’s blubber was shaken and her stores of sweat released. There was a complete ecosystem at work and one of Alleeya’s making. Yet, there was something that was from before. . .a crop that had not been granted permission by the careful gardener.
“Your hair.” Alleeya said, her mouth turning upside down in disgust. She put a hand through the rank, sweat infused strands. The curls were stretched by the weight of grease and their own length. Alleeya had left them to grow, caring more about the elements she was grafting onto Cyrieal. Now, as her masterpiece neared completion, she found that it was unfitting. Cyrieal had grown beyond it. “Disgusting and unkempt.” Alleeya sniffed, tossing aside a strand. Alleeya loomed down through the wafting waves of butt-stink, her eyes coming dangerously close to Cyrieal’s. The thief could see the feverish madness once again taking the princess. She had thought of something new, an idea worming its way through her malformed brain. “It is a blight, a reminder of what you were before my. . .rehabilitation attempts.” Alleeya put her forehead against Cyrieal’s. “I think it’s time you move past it, the final reminder of what you were. What do you think?”
FFFLLRRRRRTTT-BBLLLLLRRTTT! Cyrieal could not help but release gas. She felt her hair more than the tens of pounds of jewelry or the hundreds of pounds of fat upon her. She stared into the depths of Alleeya’s burning eyes. Her rank, lanky hair was the final point of separation between her and Alleeya. After that, she would entirely be a creature of the princess’ making. Cyrieal licked her lips, hands playing with her many nipple rings. “Oh-ff. . .coursscchee. . .I would. . .BBBBLEERRUP. . .never wa-hant to. . .mmmlllrruuuup. . .ssccchtand in. . .zha. . .way.” Cyrieal swallowed air, wishing she had food to gulp down.
“Perfect.” Alleeya nodded up and down, hand reaching back to snap at one of her servants. Scissors and razor would be fetched. This act would be something that Alleeya would do by her own hand, to remove the final blemish from the reformed thief. Afterwards, Cyrieal could reach the zenith that Alleeya had planned for her.
----
As Alleeya watched the droplets of sweat splatter onto the carpet she realized that life had become perfect. The groaning of her servants as they tugged at the ropes were greater than any song. The bassy belches and farts that Cyrieal released acted as a constant beat for the servants to follow. Their hands tugged at the thick chords, the same kind that were used to keep boats at anchor in the harbor. The ropes wrapped up through hooks in the ceiling before falling down again. They wrapped around and invaded the blubber of the fattest woman in the kingdom, if not the entire world. Cyrieal had finally been fully reformed.
“BBBBLOOOORRRRUUUUP!” She belched with such force that the ground rumbled. FFFFLLLLLRRRRPPPTTT! The sounds of her enormous ass were the only ones that could compare with her belches. Gas erupted out of her with volcanic force, shaking the palace. Those holding the binding ropes shook and almost dropped them. Cyrieal fell towards the ground from where she had been suspended, her voluminous gut making contact with the stained carpet. “Oooooohh. . .bbbblluuurrup. . .issccch. . .schooo. . .mmmgggghhmmp. . .tight.” She spat the words from puffy cheeks as large and round as the belly of a pregnant woman. Cyrieal’s face was sucked into masses of fat, almost all definition lost. Her neck had softened into a series of rolls, now working to cover the back of her shaven head. The dome of Cyrieal’s shaved and oiled head was the only hard part of her, the rest having softened completely. “Schoooo. . .mmmmmhhmmph. . .tiiiight!” The blob whined, flapping arms that had become vestigial.
Alleeya swept off her throne in a whirl of black fabric. Her arms were spread wide, fingers splayed out in what was the most loving and wholesome gesture she could make. “How tight?” she asked with palpable excitement as she approached the mass of tan fat. Cyrieal had finally grown larger than her mistress, though only on a technicality. Whilst no taller, the constant buildup of fat pushed Cyrieal far above anyone else. Whether laying on her stomach or sitting on her butt, she was several heads taller than the people around her. Currently, she lay with her taut gut pooling on the floor, with chains and piercings spreading out as demanded by the flow of fat. Food and sweat dripped from her. Alleeya had to stand on her toes in order to reach Cyrieal’s wetted face, though only the dangling chins. “Tell me. . .of your ailments.” Alleeya had to pause, feeling an orgasm welling up within her.
“My scchtomacch. . .BBLLLRRUUU-WWRRRUULUUP. . .isscch too. . .full.” Cyrieal wheezed slowly. Her whole body ached with sharp pains, dulling pleasure finding the spaces in between. Her gut was swollen, bigger than the group of servants that worked to haul her up. It was nearly completely round, filled with expanding gases and digesting food. As it grew, her piercings were tugged at, the golden chains around her middle being pulled to new extremes of tightness. Alleeya could hear the creak of the chains, about to break from the raw outward force that Cyrieal’s fat was providing. “I haaaf. . .uuurrrggh. . .eaten. . .too musscch. . .huh-gain.” Cyrieal whined, her tongue hanging out, dripping sexually tinged slobber onto her chins. Alleeya forced floppy undulations through Cyrieal’s chins, her fingers vibrating as Cyrieal lumbered out her speech. “Hooooo. . .iissccch. . .HOOO-BBLOUROUP. . .too mussccch!” Sweat beaded, dripped, and ran from her brows as she cried.
Alleeya licked her lips, eyes dangerously wide as her captive spoke. “Does that mean you wouldn’t want more?” She spoke with a voice that came from within her chest, her heart pounding. She watched as neckrolls as thick as her arm battered the back of Cyrieal’s shaved head. The scented oil she had lubricated it with dripped from secret pockets, now corrupted with stinking sweat.
“I. . .BBBBLOOOOORRRUUUP. . .” Cyrieal was forced to pause as she thought. The servants were hauling her up again, forcing her into the place in which the grand chandelier of the castle had once hung. The servants fought to gain any ground, their arms burning. Cyrieal’s eyes closed as a tug at her nipples burned through her mind. She was stolen away from the conscious world by the pleasure of feeling her body restrained, first by fat and then by the ropes and chains. She was weighed down doubly, even more gold had been heaped upon her blubber. “. . .oooh. . .I wa-want. . .” She continued her slow and ambling response, lips almost too heavy to make work. Her vision blurred as sweat dripped into it. FFFFFFLLLLLLLRRRT! She farted, her mass pitching forward like a dirigible taking flight. Servants cried and tried to keep control of the ropes, afraid of the punishment that would come if they let Cyrieal drop a second time.
“Yes?” Alleeya asked hungrily, stepping back as Cyrieal was carted into the air. She rose above the throne room, pulled upwards in halting bursts of movement. FFFFRRRRMMMMPTTT! Toxic air burst from her with each stop of the rope. Cyrieal gasped as she felt the ropes pulling tighter, bringing her closer to unending pleasure. Her stomach dangled down below her, a boulder that would crush the ancient floor of the palace should her supports snap. One team pulled harder than the other, meaning she rose in a lopsided fashion. Her fat listed towards that side, dousing the team with sweat, food drippings, and endless buckets of slobber. Alleeya stepped back, following the procession with her eyes. She had long wanted this, a monument that could hang over all her petitioners, letting them know the extent of her rule. All who knelt below her throne would do so in the shadow of the thief turned slobbish chandelier.
Cyrieal gasped as she finally was pulled into place. She hung just below the rafters of the palace, her fat hanging towards the floor. She almost could not breathe at first. The tightness pulling at her pierced fat being was too much for her mind to handle. Her belly continued to swell, growing so large that it started to push against the pillars on either side of her. The old chandelier had fit perfectly whilst the new one was already threatening to spill over its boundaries, potentially at the cost of the palace and the safety of those within. BBBBBLLLLLRRRRRRT! Cyrieal blasted gas out, her body and the columns it was wedged against shivering. She moaned with the release, feeling no less tight and strained than before. With each ounce of gas released, more was already forming. She thumped her head up and down, piercings on her nose and eyes jangling. She finally arrived at the answer to Alleeya’s question.
“MOOOOOR- oourgh. . .BLLEEUUHWWHUUUURRP!” She half bawled, half belched, feeling her pussy gush. The bloated ball of blubber heaved, stressing muscles that had gone unused for uncounted months. Her head, as taut and shiny as her sweat lacquered gut, burrowed deeper into her neck rolls as she clenched. The once timid thief moaned without restraint, orgasm and flatulence wracking her tormented body until what little strength she had was spent, and she could scarcely hold herself up. “Haah. . .HNGH. . .!”
PLLRBT! BBWWRRPPTH! GHRRGLLL . . . FFFLLLRRRBBHHLLRRT!
“FUH-HUUUUUuuuck. . .” Her wail petered off the stone walls as she slumped against her stomach’s groaning expanse. The columns shook with her pained euphoria, making the palace below her quake. Yet even as she lay still, erotic spasms, rumbling farts, and feeble belches sent tremors through her mass. Cyrieal would have cried again, but her lungs were not strong enough. Instead, she rested and waited for her request to be met.
From that day forth, Cyrieal hung above the throne room as a rancid chandelier. Her body became little more than a storage place for gas and food. She lived in constant torment and pleasure from the tightness. The guiding hand of Alleeya bloated her further, ensuring she always tested her restraints. Though any thought of rebellion had been subdued and quelled, Cyrieal constant growth tested her bonds. The servants and artisans contested with her stink and sweat in order to fit her with beautiful trinkets. Cyrieal paid little attention to these new gifts, considering them only when her fulsome body pulled them painfully tight. Her only thoughts were of food and the glorious burden it brought to her suspended body. Bit by bit, her life as a thief faded away. She was free from everything. . .save the whims of her stomach and her princess.
Comments
James Duke
All stems from having a good idea and commissioner ;)
John Williams
Good lord man you went above and beyond for this story. You realized such a niche fetish idea spectacularly well! I'm very glad I got to comm this from you.
