Queen of the Fat Coast

[Sulla]

So this is kind of a sequel to my Emperor Basil the Fattener story, which had too much continuity and too many characters for me to keep track of. This is going to be more sequential and is a bit more inspired by older pulp stories, but with a weight gain bent.

Queen of the Fat-Coast:

Chapter 1: Her Weight in Gold

Wind-Ripper, terror of the Creame islands was running for its life. It didn’t matter that it was a galleon two hundred feet long from stern to bow and a hundred and fifty feet from stern to keel, with hundreds of blood thirsty crew laboring beneath its black masts or that its reputation was as the fiercest pirate vessel in all the seas. The great ship was running fast, with every inch of sail straining in the wind to escape its foe.

And it was losing.

Captain Jessene Ravanche, a fierce and hateful female swashbuckler in her late twenties stood behind the ship’s wheel, her green eye affixed to a spyglass locked on her persuer. Her wiry body was taut, its lean musculature earned from a lifetime of work with blade and boat was quivering with pent up rage. The Captain’s crew avoided her in these moods, for even the slightest intrusion upon the fire haired corsair’s inner thoughts would see the well used saber strapped just above the rolled tops of her thigh high leather boots flash out.

‘Give me more sail you scurvy dogs!’ Ravanche demanded of her crew with a snarl, the nearest sailors cringing away from her order.

‘Captain, every scrap is put up!’ her first mate pleaded, before the saber’s hooked blade opened a painful slash across his face. That the two had been lovers for years gave him no protection.

‘I want speed not excuses!’ Ravanche demanded, as the frigate behind her came ever closer, its white sails looming dangerously near. The crew immediately began trying to increase speed, despite knowing it was impossible. All of them were murderers born and old hands at slaughter, but they went in mortal terror of their short, slight Captain. The slightest disobedience would set the green eye in her pretty face wide with madness and then all that was left of their life would be the swoosh of her long coat, the flash of her blade and their mutilated face hitting the deck.

‘Perhaps if we drop some of our cargo?’ Ravanche’s second mate, a tan skinned, plumpish woman suggested, ‘Our strong hold is bursting with loot enough already and the Princess is certainly worth more than the gold and silk we took off the Serican ship.’

‘Give up our loot!’ Ravanche shrieked, ‘I’d sooner cut down the masts, Ms. Shakra!’

‘We can cut more speed if we lose some excess weight,’ the second mate began, stopping herself only when she realized that the captain’s eye had gone wide with insanity.

As she was hurled into the sea, Second Mate Shakra reflected that talking about dropping excess weight wasn’t a good idea when you have an over filled belly hanging over your belt, tree trunk thighs straining your pants and heavy breasts always threatening to burst your top. The splash she made was particularly loud, more than enough to cover up her strained garments ripping to shreds at the impact on the water. Luckily she found herself floating rather well due to her buoyant physique.

Back aboard Wind-Ripper, another pair of eyes watched the scene with a mix of hope and fear. Princess Seserachad stood within a cage upon the galleon’s deck, locked inside to both protect her from the advances of the crew and to humiliate her. This girl was the very definition of elegant beauty: her skin was soft and smooth, with nary a blemish and her silky, waist length hair dark as midnight. Her body was slim and straight, yet soft as butter from a life spent without ever having to lift a finger for herself. Just a hint of softness clung to her supple limbs and pretty face, while the breadth of her hips and the full heft of her bosom hinted at future roundness.

Only hours ago, Seserachad’s immense ship had been leisurely carrying her from a life of luxury in the Arbasid Empire to a slightly different life of luxury as the betrothed bride of one of the desert kingdom’s client despots. The large ship’s crew had been overwhelmed by the fierce pirates, its cargo of silk and gold captured and the stunning princess caged after her silk dress had been ripped away. Thus she had been tossed into the cage, her long slim legs crossed to give herself some form of modesty while her hands tried to cover her pert breasts. Ravanche had promised that she wouldn’t be harmed provided a ransom was paid, but Seserachad doubted the raving pirate woman was in a mood to keep her promises at the moment.

Only hope that the white frigate would bring her rescue, as opposed to a worse captivity, supported her now.

There was a brief flurry of magic as Ravanche’s hired mage attempted to duel with the sorceress upon the other ship, but the pirate’s mage was quickly cut down and the ship’s sails were knocked into the sea with stunningly accurate lightning bolts. The entire galleon lurched as the frigate rammed into it, a spiked boarding ramp falling onto the deck to let a small army of mailed fighters invade. At their head was a terrifying figure in form fitting plate, tall, curvaceous and unmistakably feminine, she crashed her way through the pirate ranks with ease. Her mace shattered Captain Ravanche’s saber and a kick to the head put the pirate captain on her back. Within minutes it was over, the Wind-Ripper’s long career of infamy brought to an end as her remaining crew surrendered.

The second mate Ms. Shakra was hauled up from the water by the conquerors, her big breasts hanging free with their nipples engorged. She was furious at her treatment and helped the victorious crew identify captured leaders, not caring that her pants had split in a dozen places to reveal much of her plentiful backside and chubby legs. The new crew Shakra had joined giggled at every flabby shake and Seserachad noted that they almost instantly began fetching the fat ex-pirate food and drink.

Princess Seserachad noted that almost all of the invading crew were women, tan and lean young beauties who watched looked up to their leader like she was a goddess. Seserachad was a bit shocked to see women not only carrying weapons, but using them with skill. The Princess herself lived a life of pacifist ease inside palace walls never seeing or dreaming of violence, yet these girls were laughing at their near brush with death and were already stripping Wind-Runner bare of loot. Raised to be modest, Seserachad was shocked as the maidens stripped off their hot, stained armor to reveal their sweaty, nubile bodies.

Their limbs were supple and strong and their bellies flat, although there was plenty of feminine softness in their hips and chests. Any man would be happy to spend an afternoon or a night with one of these maidens, to the point that the caged princess felt a bit unconscious of her untoned limbs and slightly soft belly. Where Seserachad never lifted a finger but watched what she ate strictly, giving her a body that was slender but soft, these girls were quite the opposite. The past few minutes had demonstrated that they must spend hours a day at sword drill, but even now many of them were guzzling rum or partaking in looted foodstuff, practically hand feeding each other. If she had eaten like these girls, then Seserachad would find her hips getting wedged in doors before the year was out, but the crew women obviously worked out enough to keep most of it off.

The woman that these fearsome beauties answered to was herself just as terrifying to Seserachad as Ravanche had been, if in a different way than the defeated pirate. Ravanche had been constantly moving, wiry and near to burst with energy and paranoia. Short, slight and flat chested, her clothes had been little more than high boots, heeled for height, an extremely short shirt and a long black frock coat.

Her new captor, if captor she was, was remarkably different. This woman was markably tall, easily over six feet even without high heeled boots and with an athlete’s well defined muscles. Despite this she was remarkably, nay, strikingly feminine. After the last enemy surrendered, the winged great helm was removed to let honey blonde curls fall to firm shoulders, revealing a stunning heart shaped face with shining blue eyes, straight, shining white teeth and plump, pillowy lips. Likewise, once her long scale mail coat was doffed and her chain mail chausses taken away, a wonderland of tanned feminity was on display, only a tiny leather thong and knee high leather boots left behind. It lasted only a moment as a servant girl quickly replaced the heavy mail with tight leggings and a vest, but it stayed in the mind of everyone there.

Every eye locked onto a pair of nigh perfect breasts, high and firm Es with plenty of bounce and jiggle, as well as a youthful perkiness that belied their large size. Both large nipples sat high and pointed upwards, a timely cool ocean breeze making them grow pointy. Her belly was flat as a board and studded with firm abdominals, merging with wide, shapely feminine hips. The near totally bared ass was large, round and pert, the cheeks of a woman who had done an immense number of squats and lunges. Her legs were long and firm, those of a well practiced long distance runner.

‘Who’s the girl in the cage?’ the new comer asked of the traitorous second mate, a jerk of her pretty head indicated Seserachad. The woman’s voice was sultry and smooth, every syllable having a hint of mockery in it.

The caged princess felt a strange thrill, part fear and part lust, run up her spine as the stranger’s icy blue eyes ate her up, moving up and down her long legs and flat belly. Unfamiliar thoughts of having her head buried within those heaving breasts flashed before her, even as she felt she was being weighed like a cow at sale. The woman was eying her like a cat toying with a mouse, thinking of whether it should swallow her down or play with her first.

‘Princess Seserachad of the Serican Empire,’ the second mate replied, only after the flush of vengeance had passed realizing how scanty her own clothes had become, ‘Captain Ravanche was going to ransom her for her weight in gold. Say, er, could I get some new clothes by any chance?’

‘Ones that will fit you for a short time can be found later,’ the new Captain replied, ‘for now find me your old captain, you said that she’s skinny and mean correct?’

‘As skinny as a twig and meaner than a shark with a toothache Captain,’ the first mate responded, already bending her fat body to get a glimpse at the faces of downed pirates.

‘But pretty yes?’

‘I suppose if you like skinny little hellions,’ the first mate admitted.

‘Well she won’t stay skinny long,’ the newcomer said, turning away from the heavy set traitor, ‘Now where is my mage? Bethany, I need your attendance!’

As the tubby ex-pirate began searching the piles of captured corsairs, another woman emerged from the victorious ship, a dirty blonde who began sauntering lazily over the boarding plank. Seserachad could tell that this woman was thin, or rather more accurately that she had been thin not too long ago. The Princess was a lean girl, but she would have had to suck in her tummy to get those tight leather pants on. This woman had neither the right nor ability to even fit into her clothes, much less fasten them.

Skin tight, practically painted on black leather pants left nothing to the imagination, neither the state of growing thighs or that this woman wasn’t wearing any underware. None of the three snaps that fastened the pants were anywhere close to being closed, a bulge of soft chub preventing their meeting. The pants were held on purely by tightness, being stretched by jiggly thighs and plump cheeks they had not the spare fabric to fall down, even though a doughy muffin top pushed down their top.

A similarly overwhelmed vest failed to cover the moderate bulge of her tummy or love handles, only two of its five buttons being closed. While her commander’s firm belly rippled with muscle, this woman’s jelly belly wobbled and heaved with every step, lacking even rudimentary muscle tone. Tables of sweets and small streams of ale had gone into crafting this flabby muffin top, as had a complete disregard for exercise. The breasts that jostled and fought for whatever miniscule space was available inside the top had almost all of her mistress’ stunning size and a third of their perk, sagging even within the confines of the vest. A thick valley of plunging cleavage was displayed, attempting to make up with overfed quantity what they lacked in pert quality. Her face may have once had stunning cheekbones and a sharp chin, but now her cheeks were beginning to bulge and a definite double chin bulged beneath.

‘Yes my Queen Rachel, what need has the Lady of the Black Coast of her mighty mage?’ the woman asked with an indolent tone, one plump hand plunging into a silken bag to pull out a sugary fruit which was popped easily in between her lips.

‘Bethany, I had wanted you in the assault,’ the towering captain chided, ‘where were you at, stuffing yourself in the galley again?’

‘You wound me my fearless leader,’ the pudgy woman said in mock agony, placing a soft hand up against a softer breast, ‘I was merely recharging my repertoire of magical spells. Calling up a wind and breaking the enemy mage took a great deal out of me today.’

‘You tire quite easily since we began our adventures in these climes,’ her commander observed, walking over to her underling with hard hands on her athletic hips, at least twice as fast as the out of shape Bethany. Her index finger plunged deep into the magic user’s deep navel while her thumb hooked under a soft roll of flab and shook the wizard’s tubby gut, the entire belly bouncing like a bowl of jelly.

‘I remember that only a few months ago you could power our ship for days without taxing your reserves,’ the tall blonde teased, ‘and back then your belly was flat as a board. I’d say you’ve gained a pound a day these past six weeks and your spells have grown as soft as your ass.’

‘How dare you!’ the mage snapped, her mouth forming an outraged O that put her extra chin on full display, ‘I’m still fit as a fiddle!’

‘More like a cello I’d say,’ Rachel teased, her strong hand pinching the mage’s low hanging buns to elicit a sound half way between outraged shriek and a horny giggle.

‘I…I…,’ the magician stammered, angry at the obvious being pointed out, ‘you’re just saying it because you’re jealous, you scrawny string bean!’

Rachel laughed, her bulging chest bouncing along with her melodious voice, ‘Jealous of what my tubby sorceress, your ability to go from fit to flabby in forty days? That that behind of yours is getting so big we could use you as an anchor? Or maybe I’m jealous that you’re so out of shape I doubt you could cast another spell for months?’

‘Bah! I could incinerate this entire ship if I wanted to!’ the plump mage claimed, despite the fact that she was starting to get red in the face just from her emotional outburst.

‘Really?’ asked Rachel, crossing her corded arms across her generous breasts and trying to hide a smirk, ‘how about a lower target, turn the cage holding our dear rescued princess over there into something easier to break. Peppermint looks about as hard as you can manage.’

Rachel’s crew-women began nudging and betting amongst themselves already.

‘Ha, you wager too easy my captain! If I fail then you’ll have to stuff your gullet until your belly hides your feet from you! You won’t be so smug with an apron belly and five chins!’

‘I haven’t seen my feet since puberty Bethany,’ Rachel teased, jostling her own immense bosom for emphasis, hard enough that the heavy globes of mammary meat threatened to burst her vest, ‘but if you do manage to turn that cage into peppermint I’ll eat till my stomach pops out past them! But if you fail…well, you’re going to need some new clothes.’

Seserachad had been following the debate in some alarm as it became clear they were going to cast magic on her cage. She squealed with shock and fell to her knees, closing her eyes tight as Bethany raised her hands and began chanting a spell. Something white and sandy fell across her soft shoulders and the Princess opened her eyes to find a pile of fine powder around her on the deck. Looking closer, she realized it seemed familiar.

‘That doesn’t look like peppermint Bethany,’ Rachel said dismissively, long legs carrying her to the diminutive Seserachad in seconds. The Princess saw that she moved like a predatory cat even at risk and felt a mixture of fear at her power and lust at her obvious strength.

‘It could *huff* be powdered *puff* peppermint,’ the mage panted, soft hands resting on her plump knees as she was bent over. Her cheeks were bright red with effort and she sweated like she had run a foot race.

In response the captain rolled her eyes and dipped one hand into the pile of sugar. Rising slowly, she sucked the grains off each of fingers with exaggerated slowness, sending a confusing thrill through the no longer quite a captive Princess’ loins.

‘Sugar Bethany, its nothing but powdered sugar,’ the amazonian Rachel laughed, ‘not a trace of peppermint in it. Looks like my belly is staying flat, get back to your quarters honored sorceress, you’ve lost your bet. Whether I make you sweat or stuff you silly will depend on my mood in the morrow.’

The dejected mage began hurrying back to the other ship, as fast as her tubby legs could take her. She kept popping the sugared fruits into her mouth, as if each one might be her last or might soon become poison. Seserachad didn’t know whether to envy her or pity her.

‘So, now I come at last to you Princess Seserachad. Let me look at you, let’s see a flat belly but no tone. I’m going to guess skinny but lazy, probably with some older woman appointed to watch your food. You’ll be a slim young thing until your married, but I reckon that you’ll be fat as a sow after your first child. But that’s ephemeral How will you and your rich father thank your liberator?’ asked ‘Queen’ Rachel of her captive, standing over the still naked young woman with one eyebrow raised in mock appraisal.

‘Please don’t harm me, the Caliph will pay greatly for my return,’ Seserachad begged, ‘I’m his favorite daughter. He’ll pay my weight in gold!’

Something wild flickered in Rachel’s eyes, not as mad as captain Ravanche’s lunatic outburst but a pure sexual thrill that nothing could hide.

‘Have no fear Princess, I’d never touch a hair on your pretty head,’ the muscular Rachel teased, ‘you’ll need to eat after your ordeal. Girls, take her over to the Belt Burster. She’ll need a heavy meal to recover and find her some clothes, make sure it’s nothing constrictive. I feel she’ll need a lot of recovery.’

 

[Borghen]

 

[Sulla]

 

[Sulla]

 

[Sulla]

 

[Sulla]

 

[thelegendaryjackrandom]