Forgotten_Futures
Well-Known Member
~BBW, Sci-Fi, ~~WG - A freak accident sends a Dimensional Scout to an unknown world, where societal differences make her stand out all too well.
[Author's Note: You will notice the classification list is rather... short. Fear not, this is only the beginning! Hints are given, background and plots are laid out, and don't worry, the ~XWG tag will get on there before the end. For now, enjoy.]
[Author's Note: You will notice the classification list is rather... short. Fear not, this is only the beginning! Hints are given, background and plots are laid out, and don't worry, the ~XWG tag will get on there before the end. For now, enjoy.]
The Cursed Queens
Chapters 1-3
By Forgotten_Futures
Chapter One
Rachel walked quickly down the cobblestone street, a growing sense of alarm nestled between her small breasts. I'm completely lost, she thought.
Back in her home world – or rather, home reality – Rachel had been part of an experimental “Pathfinder” team, charged with utilizing the newly invented Proto–Gates to search for, explore, and “document” alternate realities for the government back home.
Of course, “document” really meant nothing more than, “assess the worthiness and susceptibility of the reality for conquest.”
There had been two simple factors necessitating these dangerous missions. Humanity continued to grow at an alarming rate, and even the technologies of 2067 Earth were by no means able to cope with such a large population. Hundred–story hydroponic farms yielded more food per square mile of land than ever before, and cryo–sleep centers – essentially racks of oversized coffins, capable of holding a single person and a few possessions – in place of full–sized housing barely took a bite out of the rapidly worsening overcrowding issue. Yet, despite this massive lack of space, humans – unlike most other animals – did not adapt to their environment by dying in droves until the population stabilized once again, but went right on procreating, “And what do you mean you can't feed me and my nine children?”
To date, only two realities had been “taken”, and both of these had been nearly empty, Earths that never bore witness to humanity. Construction and the relocation of material had begun, but it would still be years before they were ready. And so the hunt continued for alternate worlds, Earth or otherwise, where humanity could move in with less effort.
Thus it was that Rachel found herself here. Expertly trained and equipped with an army's worth of high tech gadgetry, but alone. And, as far as she could tell, having no way to get back home.
And at the tender age of 22, she wasn't so sure she could handle spending the rest of her life in such alien conditions.
Again she passed a couple of young women on the street, who moved as far to the side as their rotund frames allowed them to. Staring at her, their looks suggesting she might as well be parading around naked, covered with the blood of fifty innocent children, and an eye from each.
Unsure where that image had come from, Rachel reflected that she did stand out like a sore thumb. More like a perfectly healthy thumb surrounded by bruised, bleeding thumbs swelled up like sausages in the summer heat.
Everywhere she looked she saw fat women. All ages, all heights, there wasn't a female to be seen who wasn't at least chubby. The younger women seemed to be lighter, overall, while anyone near her age or older was at least 300 pounds. Although this made the shorter women fatter than taller ones, she also noticed that a lot of people seemed to average about the same height. Some of the tallest women looked to be 500 pounds or more!
The only people she saw who weren't fat were the men. Yet even they were the same height as most of the women; perhaps a little taller. She still stood a head or two above them, though, and that only made her feel more out of place.
She was snapped out of her introspection by a shout. “You there!” She whirled, looking for the source of the commanding voice, and had just caught sight of a man – taller than the others and clothed in a long, red cape – striding towards her when a hand clamped down on her arm and pulled her, unexpectedly hard, through the door she'd stopped in front of and into what appeared to be the entryway of a home. Confused, she panicked, and tried to force her way back out, but the figure the hand belonged to imposed itself in the doorway, forcing her back and closing the door behind him as he stepped outside.
There was the sound of brief, but intense, arguing, and finally the sound of booted feet stomping off in frustration. After a few seconds, the door opened and the man who had pulled her in stepped back inside.
Despite her training, Rachel was inherently afraid for her life. This man had just proven himself stronger than her, and seemed to wield enough authority to stand up to the man in the cape, whom Rachel chose to assume was some kind of policeman.
Shivering, she backed up until her backside came in contact with a wall. She open her mouth to speak, but the man beat her to it. “Are you crazy?! Do you WANT to spend time in the Royal Jails?” The man looked at her as though she had three heads, although he had to look up to do so.
Rachel flinched back from his words. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't know, I couldn't know.” What am I doing? Rule #3: Never admit you're not from their world. “I come–” she coughed, “I came from – from a different land.”
“As I understand it there are no lands Her Majesty does not rule over. Yet you just as clearly have no idea where it is you are, do you?” He took a step closer.
“P–please, s–stay away. I'll be good, I p–promise, just don't hurt me.”
“Hurt you? Lady, I don't know who you are or where you're from, but I assure you, I have no intention of hurting you. If I had, I would've let Mr. Imperial Guardsman back there get his hands on you.”
“You mean you're... not going to rape me?”
“Assuming I knew what that meant,” Rachel choked, “and judging by your reaction, it's something unpleasant. If this 'rape' is the usual result of being yanked off the street by a man where you hail from, I can see why you'd want to come here, regardless of your differences from our society.”
“What... what IS your society?”
The man sighed. “Look, I can tell this is gonna take a bit. Let's get you sat down in the kitchen, you look starved.” Rachel supposed that, compared to all the fat women she'd seen, she must indeed look poorly fed, but he wasn't wrong in assuming she could use something to eat.
“I really can't imp–”
“You're not imposing if I offer it freely. Now come on.” He pushed open a door leading from the entryway, plainly expecting her to follow. She noticed he did not touch her again, and wondered if that was local custom, or if he'd simply picked up on her fright at being touched by a strange man. Seeing no other alternative, she turned and followed him through his home.
They proceeded through a few sparsely decorated rooms until they were in the kitchen. The man surprised her by flicking a switch on the wall, activating what had looked like an old torch in a bracket on one wall. “We're not really as low tech as we look. The monarchy just like to keep things looking “rustic” as much as possible. By the way, I'm Tomas. I'm one of the bakers here in town.”
“Rachel,” she said, as Tomas plunked a fresh–looking loaf of bread, as well as cheeses and meats, in front of her. She hadn't heard him open up a 'fridge, but looked up to see him closing an innocuous panel cut into the wall. “Noiseless refrigeration?”
“Nearly. You do not have this?”
“No. Ours are quiet, yes, but they do make sound.”
Tomas nodded thoughtfully. “So, you want to know about our history?” As he spoke, he began to slice the bread, meats, and cheeses, making a number of sandwiches and setting them on a platter between them.
“Yes. It seems as though I'll be here for... some time, so I might as well.”
Tomas got a far off look in his eyes, the way old people frequently did when they were recalling their past. “Many millenia ago, in a time when our people had yet to discover industry, there existed magic. Not the fancy magic of stage shows, but useful magic, magic that allowed us to live much as though we had the technology we do today... except it was magic!” He chuckled out loud at his little joke.
“Anyhow, back then the lands were not all united under one banner; rather, two kingdoms vied for dominance in our world. One kingdom, our Kingdom, the Kingdom of Maelen, was rich and prosperous, filled with content, productive citizens, proud of their monarchs.
“The other Kingdom, Ereck, however, was a sad, desolate place. Crime was rampant, people went hungry while those in power hoarded to keep themselves well fed. Citizens died frequently of malnourishment while corpulent rulers lazed about on giant pillows, hand fed by slaves who rarely lasted more than a week each, before they too succumbed and died, while their masters only grew fatter.
“One day, the Lord of Ereck, the fattest in the land, called forth his head priest. He had come to the realization that, if Ereck, ruled as it was by obese, lazy goveners and their ilk, was so treacherous, then perhaps the key to gaining control of Maelen was to give their monarchy the same problem. Thus he told his priest, to send someone to an audience with the King and Queen of Maelen, that he might curse them, and their entourage of lesser rulers, that they, too, might become fat and lazy.
“Of course, as with all evil plots, this one failed, though not completely. The curse DID manage to target one individual, and left a permanent stain on her – and her throne.
“The Queen became ravenous, thinking of little but food. She ate almost constantly, and at first it seemed the kingdom really might fall to ruin as its leadership had to deal with this new problem.
“Fortunately for us, it did not. Indeed, the King, enraged at this curse having been placed upon his wife, immediately marshalled the troops of the realm and sent them to lay waste to the Kingdom of Ereck. Within a few years, the entire nation was under the rule of Maelen.”
“This doesn't explain the whole thing with the fat women,” Rachel paused in her eating to say.
“Don't worry, I'm getting there. Now, where was I? Oh yes...
“Once again Maelen prospered, and the lands once ruled by Ereck quickly recovered and became as vibrant and full of life as the lands of Maelen had been all along.
“But the King was troubled. His wife was still fat, and while she hadn't degraded into a lazy pig, she did consume vast amounts of food each day. Worse, however, was his daughter. She seemed to be following in her mother's footsteps, eagerly almost. Nothing the King did put more than a dent in his daughter's growth, and as soon as he relaxed his restraints on her eating habits, she went right back to eating, growing by the day.
“When this trend continued for the next three generations, the Queen – then Her Majesty, Queen Iella – saw fit to declare a new ruling. It was not fitting, she said, for a nation as great as her own to have a queen fatter than her lesser rulers.
“Immediately it was decreed that all female members of the Parliament equal or outdo the queen in mass, having one year to reach this weight. Of course, the queen weighed over 500 pounds, so this was a great undertaking, and many people in the Parliament were replaced when they resigned, unwilling to meet these new terms.
“But, nonetheless, conform they did, and soon Maelen had a government full of exceptionally obese women. This trend lasted another 3 generations, before the members of Parliament, who had now gotten quite used to their new standard of living, decided they should not be the only ones mirroring the queen.
“So it was decreed that ALL women of the realm must meet or exceed the queen in weight, having one year from that day to fulfill the terms of this new edict.
“Understandably, many women refused or were unable to comply with these orders. These women were taken to the castle dungeons, where they were forced to eat until they met the requirements of the decree.”
Rachel's eyes widened to the approximate size of small saucers. Great. Of all the worlds I choose to get stuck in by accident, I have to pick one that makes it illegal to be thin! “But, the rest of the citizens... didn't they stand up against this treatment?”
“Some did. Enough did. So a new law was made. Women would either comply with the decree, or live their entire lives indoors, only to walk the streets during blackest night, and adorned with special garments that gave the impression they were much larger. The garments were reinforced with steel, in order to actually impose a real physical burden on the wearer. This, in combination with having to stay indoors at all other times, was sufficient incentive for most to gain the weight anyway. Any foolish enough to break the rules were hauled off to the dungeons to be fattened forcibly.
“This continued for another handful of generations, and still our nation prospered. We made technological advancements that kept food production well ahead of consumption, even with half the population consuming more than 80% of the food.”
“Sounds like my land could stand to take notes from yours.”
“I suspect this is likely. I also suspect, from your attire and armaments, that such a thing was intended. Though not in peaceful trade.” Rachel sat bolt upright, deer–in–the–headlights look plastered on her face. Her stomach grumbled, and she only now became consciously aware that Tomas had eaten none of the sandwiches.
“Rachel – if that is, in fact, your real name – I would like very much to believe you are lost here. That, contrary to the way things look, you are not some kind of advance scout sent to determine our strengths, weaknesses, and what we may possess that would make us worth taking over.”
Rachel wanted to bolt for the door, to run away, even to give herself up to the man in the red cloak. Being fattened, to any weight, had to be better than potential death. She wanted to cry as Tomas' – if in fact that was his real name – eyes bored into her, but she found herself unable to shed so much as a single tear.
“While there is nothing you can do, now, to make me trust you, that can change, given time. If, after a couple weeks have passed, there is no further contact from your people, my trust in you will begin to grow. Until then, however, I am afraid I must treat you as a threat to myself, and to my society.”
He stepped around the table and effortlessly heaved her up onto one shoulder. Please don't hurt me please please please don't hurt me. A little voice went on inside her head repeatedly, about the only part of her body she seemed to have any control over at this point.
Tomas pushed open another hidden panel in the wall, revealing a small but comfortably furnished room. Laying her down on the bed, he left shortly, to return with three lengths of rope – two short and one long. Taking her clothes off with practiced ease, her fear of being raped returned. It was not as though she had never had sex before, although she'd been unlucky enough to have unwilling as well as consensual encounters. It was the unwilling ones she'd never liked, and here she wasn't even able to try and fend him off.
But the touches never came. Nor did he strip in preparation to insert himself within her limp body. Instead, he gently, but firmly, tied her hands together at the wrists, perhaps two feet of thin but strong-looking cord hanging limply between her equally limp arms.
Again he left the room, and returned with a couple scraps of plain white cloth. With the first one, he raised her arms and slid the cloth down over her body, letting it come to rest over her breasts as a crude tube-top, careful to touch her as little as possible. For the second he held her torso between his knees and pulled a pair of panties up her legs, once again keeping his fingers from making contact as much as he could.
Finally, he tied her ankles together with a rope about as long as the one binding her wrists, and lastly tied the long string to a metal hook in the floor at the far corner of the room.
Sitting behind her, he cupped her chin in his hands and gently moved her head about the room, pointing out the various important properties, apparently having planned this well enough to know she could comprehend sight and sounds.
“That switch on the wall over near the door controls the lights. I'll turn them off when I leave so you can sleep the off the effects of the neurotoxin. That little opening you see is the bathroom. Full plumbing, all the amenities. I will bring you food at mealtimes. I suggest you eat all of it – if your story holds true, you'll still be subjected to our laws, and while some women do spend their lives as shut-ins, I don't expect an outsider like yourself to be able to cope with this.
“Door out opens from the outside only, so don't even try to force your way out. In the event you do manage to force the door open, you won't get far. No eating utensil I'll ever give you could cut that rope, and while I'm not going to perform a cavity search, I find it unlikely you have any weapons hidden up your vagina.” She didn't, but of course there was no way to tell him that, and he'd never believe her unless she never cut the rope.
She didn't know why it was so important to her for to have his trust. She figured it had to be an emotional response to her captivity. But that in no way lessened the fact that she did want him to trust her, really trust her, like no one at home ever had.
She felt herself being lowered back onto the bed, then Tomas' hand slipped away from her jaw. She felt compelled to cry out, to beg him to stay – but why? “Sleep well. Hopefully, in a few short weeks, you can come out of there. I'm sorry to have to do this, but I'll at least try to make your stay more comfortable than the Cellars.”
With that, he flicked off the lights, stepped back out into the hallway – and the door slammed shut, locking Rachel in, shutting her off from the world. Unable to move, she lay, restlessly, until finally sleep claimed her.
Story continued in post 3 of this thread
