Forgotten_Futures
Well-Known Member
~BBW, Sci-Fi, ~SWG - Rachel makes herself a bit useful in her "captor's" house.
Author's Notes: Been a while... School and work will do that to a guy... Let's see if I can't make up for that a bit over summer break...
Previous chapters here.
Feedback in thread or here.
[POV: Rachel]
After finishing breakfast, Rachel waited for Tomas to leave with the empty tray before she stripped off her meager garments and slipped back into her field clothes. Or, rather, squirmed into.
The weight she'd gained these past weeks hadn't felt like much, and hadn't really been much, numerically, but in a sense of ratios she'd gained a fair amount of weight. It made sense, of course; she'd spent the past fourteen days mostly lying around, using very little energy, and being fed progressively larger meals with more calories to them than anything from back home. And when her uniform had been fitted to a millimeter, even the slightest bit of extra flesh counted.
The uniform was, in the simplest sense, a layered, stretchy material successor to the likes of spandex. When not stretched out, it had minor shock-absorption capabilities. When pulled taught, it acted like a sheet of laminate plastic, making glancing shots survivable and even making her slippery. Alone, these things did not make the bodysuit fat-unfriendly.
The problem began with the reinforcements. Strands of kevlar were interweaved throughout the material, with sheets of the stuff covering vital areas, such as her midsection, back, and chest. These sheets were broken up to prevent movement constrictions, but here, now, they dug into her new softness, serving as the first real reminder she'd gotten to the fact that she wasn't as skinny as she'd once been, that she was gaining weight - and that, in effect helped solidify the point that she was not home any more.
[POV: Tomas]
“Tomas?” he heard Rachel's voice behind him, and turned to regard his guest. He was surprised, to say the least, at her appearance. When she'd been in the minimalist garments he'd dressed her in for her two-week shakedown, her slowly expanding body had had little to compete with for space. The garments had been tight, but very stretchy - so much so that he'd been surprised too when a little tummy first began developing above the waistband of the panties.
Now, she was once more clad in the burgundy-colored bodysuit she'd worn when they first “met”. With her height, and the musculature even a dozen or so pounds of fat could not adequately hide, she had a commanding nature to her, a cold, dark exterior that made him shudder briefly. This was the real Rachel, not the woman he had held captive for two weeks, but the woman she had come here as. She looked every bit as deadly as he'd expected her to be.
“Tomas, I'm afraid I have a little problem.”
“What exactly would that be, milady?”
“Well, it is quite literally a little problem - as in, my uniform has become too little for me.” She pointed to a few spots, and for the first time he noticed the uneven appearance of the fabric, the slight bulge indicative of flesh that hadn't been there when the bodysuit was tailored.
“I... see. Well, I can have one of the town's seamstresses come over and take measurements for you. Perhaps you could even work with her to design clothing to your particular tastes. Now, would you prefer a fat seamstress, or a thin one?”
“I... well... a fat one. So long as you can promise me she won't look down on me for being thin.” The submissive Rachel, the one he'd gotten quite used to in the past fourteen days, surfaced again, a jarring contrast to her outfit.
“Perhaps I can find one in between. Though, if not someone above the legal minimum, it will have to be done very late at night.”
“I know, I know, heaven forbid you have to set your sights on someone as skinny as I am.” Her laughter was a little weak, and carried with it light tones of remorse and self-deprecation.
He was taken aback by the harsh negativity in her voice. He reached toward her with the intent of putting his hands on her shoulders, then thought better of the move partway through and simply left his hands in space, pointing her direction. “While I can hardly deny you're skinny, whether on our principles or in general, that in no way detracts from your beauty.” Rachel blushed, her pale skin flushing a deep pink, and she looked away, this action seeming to make her smaller, somehow.
“You're just saying that to make me feel better.” She tried to smile, as though she didn't quite believe her own statement. Then a hint of anger started to creep into her tone, “Don't go ruining my impression of you by-”
“Rachel. I'm not just saying it.” Now he did put his hands on the taller girl's shoulders, and the eyes that stared back into his were once again those of the vulnerable girl that he'd first pulled into his house. “Rachel, you have to understand, the men here have to accommodate themselves to the law just as much as the women do. Just as the women are not born weighing over three-hundred pounds, so too are us guys not hardwired for attraction to them. It's a learned process.”
“But... but you ARE attracted to fat women... right?”
He detected the new panic in her eyes and found himself simultaneously gratified and surprised by this reaction. She'd yet to have shown solid feelings for him, but being concerned about whether he'd like her as a fat woman was a start. “Yes, I find them incredibly soft, sensual, and pleasing to hold or do just about anything with. As I said, it's a learned process. But that does nothing to my natural drive. Just because you're not jiggling all over does not mean I do not find you attractive.”
Rachel blushed again. “Well, uhh, thank you. It's nice to know I'm appreciated.”
“Oh, Rachel, I didn't mean it that way...”
“I know Tomas!” She laughed, a clear, vibrant sound that shattered the tension more effectively than any shockwave ever could. “You're always so worried I'm going to take something wrong. That's... comforting.” She smiled warmly at him. “It's just that... all I've done so far, is give you trouble, eat your food, and take up your time and space. I'm glad to be appreciated for anything right now.” She threw her arms around him, embracing him in a guiltless hug of friendship, exuding thanks and warmth.
It was a moment before he recovered and clasped his arms around her back. He could plainly feel the taught muscle just below her new deposits of fatty tissue. She must have been thinking along the same lines, because she spoke up about it.
“Have you ever done this before?”
“Hugged a girl? Sure.” His brow creased at the odd question.
“No..., hugged a skinny girl.” Her voice carried a hint of mischievousness.
“Yes,” he answered honestly, smiling as he released the hug and leaned back once more, putting distance between them again.
“Was she gaining weight?”
“Not in the same way you are... it's... complicated.” He took a moment to compose my thoughts before continuing. “And I don't just mean in the outsider sense.
“When I was much younger, I had this one friend, a girl, whose parents didn't seem inclined to force her to gain weight - and the girl herself didn't make any real effort. She ate when she was hungry, and didn't restrain herself if she wanted a second slice of cake at dessert, but she was always skinnier than the other girls our age.
“Obviously, this difference in size became more apparent as we approached our 18th birthdays, and it became alarmingly obvious she was not going to be over 346 pounds by the time she reached that point. But she knew what she was doing, and didn't seem to mind the life of a shut in. In fact, as we grew older, she became less and less socially involved. Almost as though she welcomed the excuse.
“We still keep in touch. The communications network here is far more extensive than you've seen so far, and we talk often. She likes to talk, but she's not much for people. I do visit her occasionally, as there's no restriction on when citizens of the Kingdom are allowed to visit each other, regardless of size.
“Incidentally, she's a seamstress, though a very exclusive one. I might be able to get her to make things for you...”
“I wouldn't want to impose on her,” Rachel interjected into Tomas' monologue, “but she sounds interesting, and I would like to meet her.”
“I thought as much. Sooner is best, yes?”
Rachel looked down at herself and fingered a spot where some new tummy fat pushed out around the edge of the kevlar panel there. “I should say so. I keep wearing this much longer and it might actually start to hurt. I may want to go back to those minimalist underwear things.”
“Alrighty then, I'll see if I can't get Coral over in the next couple nights. If she's alright with it. Until then -”
“I was actually wondering,” He turned around from having begun to walk towards the shop section of the house, “if I could help you today.” She favored him with a plaintive look.
Tomas couldn't be sure if she really wanted to help that badly, or if she was simply going stir crazy. “I'm not sure... that outfit of yours won't make bending and carrying easy...”
“Then I'll change back into the underwear. I don't mind. I want to DO something, and more specifically I want to do something helpful to you. I owe you.”
“You owe me nothing, Rachel.” Tomas sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Go change. I took the lock off your door so you can go freely now. I'll wait here for you.”
Rachel nodded and bounded eagerly for her room, like a little kid getting to help daddy with his work. Tomas sighed once more and prepared for a long day.
[POV: Rachel]
I think Tomas is surprised. His every word, every look says, “you'll have trouble with this one,” or, “now this should be tricky for you.”
Rachel deftly scooped the lump of bread dough out onto the polished stainless steel counter top and began cutting off chunks, dropping them briefly onto a scale until she had two dozen uniform balls. She began kneading these in sequence, squishing the dough out flat, then folding it over and starting again like Tomas had showed her, doing this 5 or 6 times with each chunk, until the dough was smooth and flowed effortlessly under her touch. She couldn't help but think about how her own body would be doing likewise before long - rounding out, and then perhaps forming rolls like some of the women she'd seen her first day here.
Shaking her head to clear it, she returned her full attention to her work, spinning each lump back up into a perfect ball and slammed it down onto a baking tray, leaving it in whatever form it took on impact. The work was tedious, but far from boring, and she sensed that Tomas was glad to have someone do this somewhat menial task while he focused on the more complicated orders.
Tomas had explained that, while he was not the only baker in the area, many regarded him as the best at his craft when it came to breads and rolls. He had confided in her that he honestly was no good with decorating cakes, otherwise he might get more customers in that area.
The Kingdom, it seemed to her, had shied away from large corporations on purpose, having seen the effects they had on other empires across the time streams. Instead, they'd kept to an old fashioned approach where one or two households, sometimes consisting of a single person, had a specific job and that was his, hers, or their life's work. Tomas had shown an aptitude for baking when he was younger, so he'd grown up a baker.
“And you've done fine without an assistant for all these years?”
“Ouch, don't make me sound so old please.” Tomas laughed gently, “it gets tough at times, but I handle it. I just never found anyone I wanted as an apprentice.”
“But you don't even have someone to clean the house. You have to do that yourself too.”
“I suppose that's true, but I don't mind. It keeps me from getting lazy, I think, and that can only be good for my business.”
“But you'd have so much more time to work on what you do best,” Rachel grunted, heaving another sack of flour over to mix another batch of rolls. “You have to admit, with me doing this you're having an easier time with your real customers.”
“True enough,” the bell out front rang, and Tomas set aside his work to go service the customer. Rachel couldn't help there for two reasons. Not only was she new to this role, but she was, by laws, unpresentable - while some customers might not object to being served by a skinny girl, others most definitely would, and that could cause trouble.
Tomas came back through the door looking flustered, and his eyes settled immediately on a tray of rolls Rachel had just taken out of the oven. He pointed, and she understood his unasked question.
“Hot and fresh, but I haven't tasted them yet.”
Tomas winked at her. “Quality assurance.” Taking a bite out of one, he chewed and then nodded, apparently happy with the result. “Not bad for a new baker. Needs a little less salt though.”
Rachel took the criticism without complaint, hardly having expected to be a maverick at this from the get go. As Tomas took the remaining 23 rolls and their tray through the doorway out to the shop, she carefully measured a reduced amount of salt for her latest batch.
Tomas came back into the kitchen a couple minutes later beaming. “The lady said to tell you, that she's tasted the product of many new apprentices over the years and you're certainly above average for quality.”
“Well, nothing at home was ever this good, but I did have to make my own food sometimes. Also, I'm a woman. This stuff comes naturally to us.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Rachel just started giggling and didn't stop until Tomas joined in for a bit of laughter. Then they both returned to their work.
Hours later Rachel had learned to make half a dozen basic rolls and had just started experimenting with filled rolls when Tomas told her to make one more batch of Drop Rolls and then pack up for the night. He ducked back out front to handle the end-of-day rush, when customers grabbed whatever was left along with anything they'd ordered for dinner.
When Tomas came back in Rachel was just pulling the rolls from the oven. “I don't really see how any girl could work in these conditions and stay fat,” she commented.
“Well, most women would help themselves along the course of the day. You only ate some for testing purposes. So while I'm getting dinner together, help yourself to some of those rolls there. You've earned it.”
Rachel smiled and took a bite out of a fresh, hot Drop Roll. The soft bread yielded easily to her teeth, and before she knew it she'd eaten half the tray. Dinner was filling, helped along by another half dozen rolls, and she retired to her bed to read up on history with her stomach feeling very full. She lay on her side, half curled up and still in the underwear clothing. Her slightly distended stomach rested itself on the sheets before her, where her right hand idly stroked it when she wasn't flipping pages. She was enjoying herself, more than ever in her lifetime, and she knew that whatever happened next, it was likely to only get better.
Author's Notes: Been a while... School and work will do that to a guy... Let's see if I can't make up for that a bit over summer break...
Previous chapters here.
Feedback in thread or here.
The Cursed Queens - IV-V
by Forgotten_Futures
by Forgotten_Futures
[POV: Rachel]
After finishing breakfast, Rachel waited for Tomas to leave with the empty tray before she stripped off her meager garments and slipped back into her field clothes. Or, rather, squirmed into.
The weight she'd gained these past weeks hadn't felt like much, and hadn't really been much, numerically, but in a sense of ratios she'd gained a fair amount of weight. It made sense, of course; she'd spent the past fourteen days mostly lying around, using very little energy, and being fed progressively larger meals with more calories to them than anything from back home. And when her uniform had been fitted to a millimeter, even the slightest bit of extra flesh counted.
The uniform was, in the simplest sense, a layered, stretchy material successor to the likes of spandex. When not stretched out, it had minor shock-absorption capabilities. When pulled taught, it acted like a sheet of laminate plastic, making glancing shots survivable and even making her slippery. Alone, these things did not make the bodysuit fat-unfriendly.
The problem began with the reinforcements. Strands of kevlar were interweaved throughout the material, with sheets of the stuff covering vital areas, such as her midsection, back, and chest. These sheets were broken up to prevent movement constrictions, but here, now, they dug into her new softness, serving as the first real reminder she'd gotten to the fact that she wasn't as skinny as she'd once been, that she was gaining weight - and that, in effect helped solidify the point that she was not home any more.
[POV: Tomas]
“Tomas?” he heard Rachel's voice behind him, and turned to regard his guest. He was surprised, to say the least, at her appearance. When she'd been in the minimalist garments he'd dressed her in for her two-week shakedown, her slowly expanding body had had little to compete with for space. The garments had been tight, but very stretchy - so much so that he'd been surprised too when a little tummy first began developing above the waistband of the panties.
Now, she was once more clad in the burgundy-colored bodysuit she'd worn when they first “met”. With her height, and the musculature even a dozen or so pounds of fat could not adequately hide, she had a commanding nature to her, a cold, dark exterior that made him shudder briefly. This was the real Rachel, not the woman he had held captive for two weeks, but the woman she had come here as. She looked every bit as deadly as he'd expected her to be.
“Tomas, I'm afraid I have a little problem.”
“What exactly would that be, milady?”
“Well, it is quite literally a little problem - as in, my uniform has become too little for me.” She pointed to a few spots, and for the first time he noticed the uneven appearance of the fabric, the slight bulge indicative of flesh that hadn't been there when the bodysuit was tailored.
“I... see. Well, I can have one of the town's seamstresses come over and take measurements for you. Perhaps you could even work with her to design clothing to your particular tastes. Now, would you prefer a fat seamstress, or a thin one?”
“I... well... a fat one. So long as you can promise me she won't look down on me for being thin.” The submissive Rachel, the one he'd gotten quite used to in the past fourteen days, surfaced again, a jarring contrast to her outfit.
“Perhaps I can find one in between. Though, if not someone above the legal minimum, it will have to be done very late at night.”
“I know, I know, heaven forbid you have to set your sights on someone as skinny as I am.” Her laughter was a little weak, and carried with it light tones of remorse and self-deprecation.
He was taken aback by the harsh negativity in her voice. He reached toward her with the intent of putting his hands on her shoulders, then thought better of the move partway through and simply left his hands in space, pointing her direction. “While I can hardly deny you're skinny, whether on our principles or in general, that in no way detracts from your beauty.” Rachel blushed, her pale skin flushing a deep pink, and she looked away, this action seeming to make her smaller, somehow.
“You're just saying that to make me feel better.” She tried to smile, as though she didn't quite believe her own statement. Then a hint of anger started to creep into her tone, “Don't go ruining my impression of you by-”
“Rachel. I'm not just saying it.” Now he did put his hands on the taller girl's shoulders, and the eyes that stared back into his were once again those of the vulnerable girl that he'd first pulled into his house. “Rachel, you have to understand, the men here have to accommodate themselves to the law just as much as the women do. Just as the women are not born weighing over three-hundred pounds, so too are us guys not hardwired for attraction to them. It's a learned process.”
“But... but you ARE attracted to fat women... right?”
He detected the new panic in her eyes and found himself simultaneously gratified and surprised by this reaction. She'd yet to have shown solid feelings for him, but being concerned about whether he'd like her as a fat woman was a start. “Yes, I find them incredibly soft, sensual, and pleasing to hold or do just about anything with. As I said, it's a learned process. But that does nothing to my natural drive. Just because you're not jiggling all over does not mean I do not find you attractive.”
Rachel blushed again. “Well, uhh, thank you. It's nice to know I'm appreciated.”
“Oh, Rachel, I didn't mean it that way...”
“I know Tomas!” She laughed, a clear, vibrant sound that shattered the tension more effectively than any shockwave ever could. “You're always so worried I'm going to take something wrong. That's... comforting.” She smiled warmly at him. “It's just that... all I've done so far, is give you trouble, eat your food, and take up your time and space. I'm glad to be appreciated for anything right now.” She threw her arms around him, embracing him in a guiltless hug of friendship, exuding thanks and warmth.
It was a moment before he recovered and clasped his arms around her back. He could plainly feel the taught muscle just below her new deposits of fatty tissue. She must have been thinking along the same lines, because she spoke up about it.
“Have you ever done this before?”
“Hugged a girl? Sure.” His brow creased at the odd question.
“No..., hugged a skinny girl.” Her voice carried a hint of mischievousness.
“Yes,” he answered honestly, smiling as he released the hug and leaned back once more, putting distance between them again.
“Was she gaining weight?”
“Not in the same way you are... it's... complicated.” He took a moment to compose my thoughts before continuing. “And I don't just mean in the outsider sense.
“When I was much younger, I had this one friend, a girl, whose parents didn't seem inclined to force her to gain weight - and the girl herself didn't make any real effort. She ate when she was hungry, and didn't restrain herself if she wanted a second slice of cake at dessert, but she was always skinnier than the other girls our age.
“Obviously, this difference in size became more apparent as we approached our 18th birthdays, and it became alarmingly obvious she was not going to be over 346 pounds by the time she reached that point. But she knew what she was doing, and didn't seem to mind the life of a shut in. In fact, as we grew older, she became less and less socially involved. Almost as though she welcomed the excuse.
“We still keep in touch. The communications network here is far more extensive than you've seen so far, and we talk often. She likes to talk, but she's not much for people. I do visit her occasionally, as there's no restriction on when citizens of the Kingdom are allowed to visit each other, regardless of size.
“Incidentally, she's a seamstress, though a very exclusive one. I might be able to get her to make things for you...”
“I wouldn't want to impose on her,” Rachel interjected into Tomas' monologue, “but she sounds interesting, and I would like to meet her.”
“I thought as much. Sooner is best, yes?”
Rachel looked down at herself and fingered a spot where some new tummy fat pushed out around the edge of the kevlar panel there. “I should say so. I keep wearing this much longer and it might actually start to hurt. I may want to go back to those minimalist underwear things.”
“Alrighty then, I'll see if I can't get Coral over in the next couple nights. If she's alright with it. Until then -”
“I was actually wondering,” He turned around from having begun to walk towards the shop section of the house, “if I could help you today.” She favored him with a plaintive look.
Tomas couldn't be sure if she really wanted to help that badly, or if she was simply going stir crazy. “I'm not sure... that outfit of yours won't make bending and carrying easy...”
“Then I'll change back into the underwear. I don't mind. I want to DO something, and more specifically I want to do something helpful to you. I owe you.”
“You owe me nothing, Rachel.” Tomas sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Go change. I took the lock off your door so you can go freely now. I'll wait here for you.”
Rachel nodded and bounded eagerly for her room, like a little kid getting to help daddy with his work. Tomas sighed once more and prepared for a long day.
[POV: Rachel]
I think Tomas is surprised. His every word, every look says, “you'll have trouble with this one,” or, “now this should be tricky for you.”
Rachel deftly scooped the lump of bread dough out onto the polished stainless steel counter top and began cutting off chunks, dropping them briefly onto a scale until she had two dozen uniform balls. She began kneading these in sequence, squishing the dough out flat, then folding it over and starting again like Tomas had showed her, doing this 5 or 6 times with each chunk, until the dough was smooth and flowed effortlessly under her touch. She couldn't help but think about how her own body would be doing likewise before long - rounding out, and then perhaps forming rolls like some of the women she'd seen her first day here.
Shaking her head to clear it, she returned her full attention to her work, spinning each lump back up into a perfect ball and slammed it down onto a baking tray, leaving it in whatever form it took on impact. The work was tedious, but far from boring, and she sensed that Tomas was glad to have someone do this somewhat menial task while he focused on the more complicated orders.
Tomas had explained that, while he was not the only baker in the area, many regarded him as the best at his craft when it came to breads and rolls. He had confided in her that he honestly was no good with decorating cakes, otherwise he might get more customers in that area.
The Kingdom, it seemed to her, had shied away from large corporations on purpose, having seen the effects they had on other empires across the time streams. Instead, they'd kept to an old fashioned approach where one or two households, sometimes consisting of a single person, had a specific job and that was his, hers, or their life's work. Tomas had shown an aptitude for baking when he was younger, so he'd grown up a baker.
“And you've done fine without an assistant for all these years?”
“Ouch, don't make me sound so old please.” Tomas laughed gently, “it gets tough at times, but I handle it. I just never found anyone I wanted as an apprentice.”
“But you don't even have someone to clean the house. You have to do that yourself too.”
“I suppose that's true, but I don't mind. It keeps me from getting lazy, I think, and that can only be good for my business.”
“But you'd have so much more time to work on what you do best,” Rachel grunted, heaving another sack of flour over to mix another batch of rolls. “You have to admit, with me doing this you're having an easier time with your real customers.”
“True enough,” the bell out front rang, and Tomas set aside his work to go service the customer. Rachel couldn't help there for two reasons. Not only was she new to this role, but she was, by laws, unpresentable - while some customers might not object to being served by a skinny girl, others most definitely would, and that could cause trouble.
Tomas came back through the door looking flustered, and his eyes settled immediately on a tray of rolls Rachel had just taken out of the oven. He pointed, and she understood his unasked question.
“Hot and fresh, but I haven't tasted them yet.”
Tomas winked at her. “Quality assurance.” Taking a bite out of one, he chewed and then nodded, apparently happy with the result. “Not bad for a new baker. Needs a little less salt though.”
Rachel took the criticism without complaint, hardly having expected to be a maverick at this from the get go. As Tomas took the remaining 23 rolls and their tray through the doorway out to the shop, she carefully measured a reduced amount of salt for her latest batch.
Tomas came back into the kitchen a couple minutes later beaming. “The lady said to tell you, that she's tasted the product of many new apprentices over the years and you're certainly above average for quality.”
“Well, nothing at home was ever this good, but I did have to make my own food sometimes. Also, I'm a woman. This stuff comes naturally to us.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Rachel just started giggling and didn't stop until Tomas joined in for a bit of laughter. Then they both returned to their work.
Hours later Rachel had learned to make half a dozen basic rolls and had just started experimenting with filled rolls when Tomas told her to make one more batch of Drop Rolls and then pack up for the night. He ducked back out front to handle the end-of-day rush, when customers grabbed whatever was left along with anything they'd ordered for dinner.
When Tomas came back in Rachel was just pulling the rolls from the oven. “I don't really see how any girl could work in these conditions and stay fat,” she commented.
“Well, most women would help themselves along the course of the day. You only ate some for testing purposes. So while I'm getting dinner together, help yourself to some of those rolls there. You've earned it.”
Rachel smiled and took a bite out of a fresh, hot Drop Roll. The soft bread yielded easily to her teeth, and before she knew it she'd eaten half the tray. Dinner was filling, helped along by another half dozen rolls, and she retired to her bed to read up on history with her stomach feeling very full. She lay on her side, half curled up and still in the underwear clothing. Her slightly distended stomach rested itself on the sheets before her, where her right hand idly stroked it when she wasn't flipping pages. She was enjoying herself, more than ever in her lifetime, and she knew that whatever happened next, it was likely to only get better.
