Forgotten_Futures
Well-Known Member
Author's Note: I think I got all the subjects this time! I know I've got two unfinished already, but this idea came to me last night and I just had to make with it. For the life of me (maybe it's a lack on my part) I've not seen a story with this particular focus on any eating/WG/expansion related board before, so... This isn't done, but of the three I've started, it's probably going to get there first. Mainly because I'm actually about half way through, as opposed to both the other two. Okay, enough of my rambling. Enjoy!
Chapter the First
Rayne glanced back along the trail for the fifth time that hour. He'd had the sense of being followed since the previous day, but could never find anything to support that idea. Countless backtreks showed no footprints anywhere near him, save his own. And he should be alone.
Rayne was on a one man nature hike. Or, at least, that's what he had called it when he told everyone where he was going. An extended vacation... that "vacation" had started two months ago and he was no closer to finishing it now than he was then. The truth was that he'd simply had enough. A workplace where harrasment thrived and was all but supported, every abusive girlfriend in the world being his in the past 10 years, health issues and having to deal with finally outgrowing his 40-inch pants...
Rayne's thoughts drifted back to the start of his trip, 2 months ago. It had been almost comical. A fat yet physically active man, Rayne was tall and had a full head of blonde hair, long since browned out by a mostly indoor lifestyle. He worked out frequently, but his carefree lifestyle nevertheless caught up to him after college. He'd never quite managed to curb his appetite for sweets, and true to form, all the women he dated were more than happy to ply him with what was supposed to be (and truly was, in some cases) THEIR weakness. As such, when he disembarked from the world, Rayne had stood tall in a pair of khaki shorts clasped tightly around a 45-inch waistband, overhung by a massive hairy gut, and two marvelous love handles, these all barely covered by a triple-XL T-shirt with a sniper and the words, "I love to camp." on it in black. He knew it was the wrong joke for what he was doing, but he didn't have much better so he made do.
He pulled himself up the last of a sheer cliff face. That was then. Now, Rayne was a wall of muscularity, hardly any fat left on him. He was dressed like the prototypical Tarzan, but unlike his avatar he was still civilized. He'd been away from his camp for a week now, having left on a fun little romp through the jungle, putting the skills he'd learned to the fullest test, showing off his new physique to anything that cared to take note. Little did he know that his suspected follower would soon take his life on a completely new tangent.
Chapter the Second
Rayne was trapped. His eyes frantically darted back and forth, listening to the growls coming towards him. He'd managed to stumble on a nest of starving jaguars, and the wild cats had siezed on the opportunity for a meal. They chased him tirelessly through the jungle until they cornered him against a stone wall. The face was smooth, not suitable for climbing. He was doomed and he knew it. He began to pray to any who would listen for salvation. As if in answer, a coil of vine fell from above and landed square on his head. He jumped straight up in surprise, then calmed down and looked up where the rope dissappeared over the edge of the rock, tens of yards above his head.
A loud snarl brought him back to Earth. The hunters had found him. Desperately, he grabbed the vine and yanked on it. Almost immediately he felt the vine tighten and his weight on the ground lessened. The jaguars sensed he was getting away, and charged, hoping to take him down before he was out of their reach. The vine rose with increased speed, but he still didn't think he'd make it. The lead jaguar took a flying leap - and the vine jumped 10 feet in a mere second. The poor beast slammed the rock head first, snapping its neck. The other jaguars, hungry as they were, ignored the fact that the now dead animal was one of their own and tore into it, gouging great wounds in its flanks and ripping out chunks of meat as though possessed. Rayne didn't see the end of it, though, as his arms made the conversion over the rocky edge and he scrambled the rest of his body over after it.
Back on solid ground, Rayne stood and brushed himself off, turning to look for his savior. What greeted his eyes was a lone woman. Standing perhaps 6 feet tall, maybe a bit more, she posessed an exotic feeling that had nothing to do with her looks. She appeared to be a mixed Irish Italian, with a bit of local native thrown in. She was slender, although not thin. Her arms had a bit of muscle to them, as did her legs, but he couldn't guess as to how she'd pulled him up herself. The other end of the vine lay at her bare feet, and when she bent to pick it up, a fold of her simple clothes, seemingly woven from plant leaves, opened enough for him to see a soft roll billow out. He returned his focus to her body when she stood, and immediately his eyes focused on her chest. Two plump, round breasts huddled as if for warmth in an open tank-styled top, the line of cleavage extending easily from the tip of his index to the nuckle at his palm. While this also set the standard for her top, as it stayed out from her body rather than pulling back in to her middle, he could just detect a non-uniform bulge about where her belly button would be. The top extended down past her waist, otherwise he expected he'd see love handles draping the sides of her simple bamboo skirt.
The woman politely coughed, and he realized he was staring. "I - I'm sorry. Thankyou for saving me."
"You are quite welcome." She replied in perfect English, the faintest hint of a lisp clipping her words, like someone who's just gotten a retainer.
"My name is Valaia. Welcome, to my home."
"The pleasure is all mine. But I really can't stay long, I must be getting back to my camp and-" he stopped at the look in her eyes.
"You do not understand. This is MY home, and so long as you are here, you shall do as I say." He opened his mouth to object, but shut it quickly at her glare. "Or there will be *dire* consequences."
"Well... what would you have me do?"
"Follow me. And you may call me 'Mistress' from now on. 'Mistress Valaia' will also be fine." Rayne followed her wordlessly. "'Mistress'..." he thought, "What the hell have I gotten myself into?"
Chapter the Third
After about an hour of walking, silent the whole while, they saw a large stone structure in the distance. "Valaia-" his seeming captor coughed. "Mistress Valaia, where are we?"
"Funny you should ask. Well, I see no reason not to tell you. This is a window between worlds. Actually, to be as truthful as possible, there's only one world on either side. Yours. It used to be mine, but I removed myself from it. Trouble with the law, you know." Rayne shook his head and gulped. He'd been captured by a criminal!
"Law, Mistress?"
"Yes, although probably not what you're thinking. The world simply doesn't have my tastes is all."
"Mistress, while I admit that the world doesn't look too keenly on fatness-" the rest of his sentence was cut off by a backhand that left him feeling like his jaw had been crushed.
"Don't you EVER call me 'fat' again, do you understand me?"
"Y-yes, yes Mistress, I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd be offended." She regarded him with contempt, then softened and helped him up. Rayne was in awe of her strength. "She could throw me around like a rag doll. What IS this woman?"
"Anyway, as I was saying, I took my leave of your world and came here, and carved out a new existence. I rule this place. Every once in a while one of your world finds themselves here. There are multiple ways in, but I make sure there are no ways out. I've only had twenty people die here, all of old age."
"Age, Mistress? How old are you, if I may be so bold as to ask?"
"You may. 348, in your years." Rayne gaped. "Time doesn't affect me here. The only times I age are when I come into your world to find new slaves."
The word bit into Rayne. "So I'm to be your slave? What kind of life is that?" He almost forgot the tagline. "Mistress."
"Yes, although I treat my slaves much better than you Americans used to."
The conversation ended there, and they walked in silence once again. Shortly they began passing through fields. Workers dotted them, male and female, mostly fat, some thin. Strangely, the fat ones looked happier. "They've been here longer."
Rayne looked questioningly over at her. "Who, Mistress?"
"The fat ones. They've been here longer." She offered no more explanation, and Rayne didn't think she would even if he asked, so he kept his mouth shut. She lead him into the stone building, which was even more massive up close, and down a long hallway to a single door. "You will stay here unless I see fit to have you moved. You will find the accomodations to your liking, I am sure. One of my secretaries will be by later to show you around and introduce you to your new workmates. For now, I have things I must tend to." With that, she left, and he heard a heavy lock slide into place. That was that. He was stuck here. He flopped down onto the large queen-sized bed and briefly wondered at the plushness of the bedding. Giving slaves comfortable beds? He got up again and explored.
There was a full, working bathroom with a metal shower, sink, and toilet, and running water to all. Back in the main room were a desk and chair, loveseat, divan, all rich wood and well padded and upholstered. If the "slave" word weren't constantly present in his mind, he'd be thinking he was in the lap of luxury. He'd been going 2 months without electricity or running water, and the advent of one returning to his life was something to die for. He was interrupted, however, by a knock on the door. "Come in."
The thing that shrugged open the door was not in fact human at all. Red skinned, tall, and seemingly burning hot, the being was like a minor demon from some fantasy. "The Mistress commanded me to introduce you to the household. Come." And it turned and left.
Not having much choice, Rayne followed it out, not having any trouble keeping up due to his long legs. "This is the dining hall. And the stockhouse." "And here, as I'm sure you've seen, are the fields. That's about all I need to show you for now. Oh, yes, I should introduce you to your work crew." The demon led Rayne to a small group tending to a field of apple trees. "Greetings, this is your new worker. His name is Rayne Angelus. Please show him the ropes."
Chapter the Fourth
The demon left Rayne with the gaggle of men and women. At close up, Rayne was made plainly aware he was the skinniest of the group, and possibly the most muscular as well. He was also both the most and least clothed. The ones who were wearing something were basically wearing the equivalent of thongs, just enough to cover their most private areas. The women had no tops at all, their mostly fat, heavy breasts resting freely on their chests, or bellies, in the case of some. Some of the men had moobs. None of them seemed to care about their state, and there was no constant sexuality crap going on. Rayne was a bit wierded out. "So... what do we do?"
"We pick apples silly." The thinnest girl of the bunch, herself a nice plumper at, he guessed, maybe 5 foot 6 and 200 pounds, sauntered over and pressed herself against him. "So much for lack of sexual crap," he thought as he felt himself hardening into her thigh. She laughed, a deep, throaty sound, and backed off from him without the slightest shame. He looked at her questioningly. "Only the Mistress can grant that." He had no clue what she meant, but she went over to another guy and purposely brushed him while helping him sort apples in a number of baskets. Rayne watched him fight down his erection, and thought he understood. "We can't have sex here!" He wondered what sense that made, but was quickly diverted to reality when a basket thunked against his chest.
"You, this tree." A very fat man, his belly hiding his crotch in place of a leaf, nodded him over. "Lemme show you how to check readiness." Sighing, Rayne walked over. This was looking so fun.
Chapter the Fifth
Later that day a large bell rang in the tower, and the people went in, a squad of demons coming out to haul the loads of harvested food back in. There was to be no rest however. Rayne and the rest of the people flowed into the dining hall. Rayne, new to the experience, was astounded to find the tables heavily laden with food. The rather plump girl from his workgroup grabbed his wrist and pulled him to a seat at one of the tables. "Come on, don't just stand there, you must be starved, I know I am!" She sat down and grabbed a whole platter of grilled chicken. "Here, have some!" She loaded my plate and dug into the rest. I hesitantly picked up my fork and took a bit. It was delicious.
"So, uhh, who are you? And what's the deal with all.. this?"
"Oh, sorry, I'm Rena. And this, well... our Mistress wants us to show our appreciation for life here in our size."
"She wants you to get fat for being her slave?"
"Don't sound so negative. She wants us to enjoy ourselves. It's no accident any of us are here. We ALL love being fat, the Mistress sees to it you don't come in here if you don't."
"You... we... oh dear..."
Rena gave him a look. "What's that supposed to mean. You tellin' me you don't think I look good fat?" She effected a hurt look.
"No, no, not at all, you're beautiful, but-"
"Then that's all that matters." And she kissed me.
"I-I thought we couldn't do that here..." Rayne's mind was moving like a snail crawling through molasses.
"Of course we can. Life would suck if we couldn't. The Mistress just has to know first."
"Does she?"
"Oh yes, I spoke with her before dinner. Now, I have one condition."
"What?"
"If I have sex with you now, you promise to outgrow me within a month."
Rayne struggled for a second, but the choice was clear. "Deal."
"I was rather hoping you'd say that... here, you'll need to get started." Rena heaped his plate with food. He looked at it, looked back at her, and dug in.
Chapter the First
Rayne glanced back along the trail for the fifth time that hour. He'd had the sense of being followed since the previous day, but could never find anything to support that idea. Countless backtreks showed no footprints anywhere near him, save his own. And he should be alone.
Rayne was on a one man nature hike. Or, at least, that's what he had called it when he told everyone where he was going. An extended vacation... that "vacation" had started two months ago and he was no closer to finishing it now than he was then. The truth was that he'd simply had enough. A workplace where harrasment thrived and was all but supported, every abusive girlfriend in the world being his in the past 10 years, health issues and having to deal with finally outgrowing his 40-inch pants...
Rayne's thoughts drifted back to the start of his trip, 2 months ago. It had been almost comical. A fat yet physically active man, Rayne was tall and had a full head of blonde hair, long since browned out by a mostly indoor lifestyle. He worked out frequently, but his carefree lifestyle nevertheless caught up to him after college. He'd never quite managed to curb his appetite for sweets, and true to form, all the women he dated were more than happy to ply him with what was supposed to be (and truly was, in some cases) THEIR weakness. As such, when he disembarked from the world, Rayne had stood tall in a pair of khaki shorts clasped tightly around a 45-inch waistband, overhung by a massive hairy gut, and two marvelous love handles, these all barely covered by a triple-XL T-shirt with a sniper and the words, "I love to camp." on it in black. He knew it was the wrong joke for what he was doing, but he didn't have much better so he made do.
He pulled himself up the last of a sheer cliff face. That was then. Now, Rayne was a wall of muscularity, hardly any fat left on him. He was dressed like the prototypical Tarzan, but unlike his avatar he was still civilized. He'd been away from his camp for a week now, having left on a fun little romp through the jungle, putting the skills he'd learned to the fullest test, showing off his new physique to anything that cared to take note. Little did he know that his suspected follower would soon take his life on a completely new tangent.
Chapter the Second
Rayne was trapped. His eyes frantically darted back and forth, listening to the growls coming towards him. He'd managed to stumble on a nest of starving jaguars, and the wild cats had siezed on the opportunity for a meal. They chased him tirelessly through the jungle until they cornered him against a stone wall. The face was smooth, not suitable for climbing. He was doomed and he knew it. He began to pray to any who would listen for salvation. As if in answer, a coil of vine fell from above and landed square on his head. He jumped straight up in surprise, then calmed down and looked up where the rope dissappeared over the edge of the rock, tens of yards above his head.
A loud snarl brought him back to Earth. The hunters had found him. Desperately, he grabbed the vine and yanked on it. Almost immediately he felt the vine tighten and his weight on the ground lessened. The jaguars sensed he was getting away, and charged, hoping to take him down before he was out of their reach. The vine rose with increased speed, but he still didn't think he'd make it. The lead jaguar took a flying leap - and the vine jumped 10 feet in a mere second. The poor beast slammed the rock head first, snapping its neck. The other jaguars, hungry as they were, ignored the fact that the now dead animal was one of their own and tore into it, gouging great wounds in its flanks and ripping out chunks of meat as though possessed. Rayne didn't see the end of it, though, as his arms made the conversion over the rocky edge and he scrambled the rest of his body over after it.
Back on solid ground, Rayne stood and brushed himself off, turning to look for his savior. What greeted his eyes was a lone woman. Standing perhaps 6 feet tall, maybe a bit more, she posessed an exotic feeling that had nothing to do with her looks. She appeared to be a mixed Irish Italian, with a bit of local native thrown in. She was slender, although not thin. Her arms had a bit of muscle to them, as did her legs, but he couldn't guess as to how she'd pulled him up herself. The other end of the vine lay at her bare feet, and when she bent to pick it up, a fold of her simple clothes, seemingly woven from plant leaves, opened enough for him to see a soft roll billow out. He returned his focus to her body when she stood, and immediately his eyes focused on her chest. Two plump, round breasts huddled as if for warmth in an open tank-styled top, the line of cleavage extending easily from the tip of his index to the nuckle at his palm. While this also set the standard for her top, as it stayed out from her body rather than pulling back in to her middle, he could just detect a non-uniform bulge about where her belly button would be. The top extended down past her waist, otherwise he expected he'd see love handles draping the sides of her simple bamboo skirt.
The woman politely coughed, and he realized he was staring. "I - I'm sorry. Thankyou for saving me."
"You are quite welcome." She replied in perfect English, the faintest hint of a lisp clipping her words, like someone who's just gotten a retainer.
"My name is Valaia. Welcome, to my home."
"The pleasure is all mine. But I really can't stay long, I must be getting back to my camp and-" he stopped at the look in her eyes.
"You do not understand. This is MY home, and so long as you are here, you shall do as I say." He opened his mouth to object, but shut it quickly at her glare. "Or there will be *dire* consequences."
"Well... what would you have me do?"
"Follow me. And you may call me 'Mistress' from now on. 'Mistress Valaia' will also be fine." Rayne followed her wordlessly. "'Mistress'..." he thought, "What the hell have I gotten myself into?"
Chapter the Third
After about an hour of walking, silent the whole while, they saw a large stone structure in the distance. "Valaia-" his seeming captor coughed. "Mistress Valaia, where are we?"
"Funny you should ask. Well, I see no reason not to tell you. This is a window between worlds. Actually, to be as truthful as possible, there's only one world on either side. Yours. It used to be mine, but I removed myself from it. Trouble with the law, you know." Rayne shook his head and gulped. He'd been captured by a criminal!
"Law, Mistress?"
"Yes, although probably not what you're thinking. The world simply doesn't have my tastes is all."
"Mistress, while I admit that the world doesn't look too keenly on fatness-" the rest of his sentence was cut off by a backhand that left him feeling like his jaw had been crushed.
"Don't you EVER call me 'fat' again, do you understand me?"
"Y-yes, yes Mistress, I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd be offended." She regarded him with contempt, then softened and helped him up. Rayne was in awe of her strength. "She could throw me around like a rag doll. What IS this woman?"
"Anyway, as I was saying, I took my leave of your world and came here, and carved out a new existence. I rule this place. Every once in a while one of your world finds themselves here. There are multiple ways in, but I make sure there are no ways out. I've only had twenty people die here, all of old age."
"Age, Mistress? How old are you, if I may be so bold as to ask?"
"You may. 348, in your years." Rayne gaped. "Time doesn't affect me here. The only times I age are when I come into your world to find new slaves."
The word bit into Rayne. "So I'm to be your slave? What kind of life is that?" He almost forgot the tagline. "Mistress."
"Yes, although I treat my slaves much better than you Americans used to."
The conversation ended there, and they walked in silence once again. Shortly they began passing through fields. Workers dotted them, male and female, mostly fat, some thin. Strangely, the fat ones looked happier. "They've been here longer."
Rayne looked questioningly over at her. "Who, Mistress?"
"The fat ones. They've been here longer." She offered no more explanation, and Rayne didn't think she would even if he asked, so he kept his mouth shut. She lead him into the stone building, which was even more massive up close, and down a long hallway to a single door. "You will stay here unless I see fit to have you moved. You will find the accomodations to your liking, I am sure. One of my secretaries will be by later to show you around and introduce you to your new workmates. For now, I have things I must tend to." With that, she left, and he heard a heavy lock slide into place. That was that. He was stuck here. He flopped down onto the large queen-sized bed and briefly wondered at the plushness of the bedding. Giving slaves comfortable beds? He got up again and explored.
There was a full, working bathroom with a metal shower, sink, and toilet, and running water to all. Back in the main room were a desk and chair, loveseat, divan, all rich wood and well padded and upholstered. If the "slave" word weren't constantly present in his mind, he'd be thinking he was in the lap of luxury. He'd been going 2 months without electricity or running water, and the advent of one returning to his life was something to die for. He was interrupted, however, by a knock on the door. "Come in."
The thing that shrugged open the door was not in fact human at all. Red skinned, tall, and seemingly burning hot, the being was like a minor demon from some fantasy. "The Mistress commanded me to introduce you to the household. Come." And it turned and left.
Not having much choice, Rayne followed it out, not having any trouble keeping up due to his long legs. "This is the dining hall. And the stockhouse." "And here, as I'm sure you've seen, are the fields. That's about all I need to show you for now. Oh, yes, I should introduce you to your work crew." The demon led Rayne to a small group tending to a field of apple trees. "Greetings, this is your new worker. His name is Rayne Angelus. Please show him the ropes."
Chapter the Fourth
The demon left Rayne with the gaggle of men and women. At close up, Rayne was made plainly aware he was the skinniest of the group, and possibly the most muscular as well. He was also both the most and least clothed. The ones who were wearing something were basically wearing the equivalent of thongs, just enough to cover their most private areas. The women had no tops at all, their mostly fat, heavy breasts resting freely on their chests, or bellies, in the case of some. Some of the men had moobs. None of them seemed to care about their state, and there was no constant sexuality crap going on. Rayne was a bit wierded out. "So... what do we do?"
"We pick apples silly." The thinnest girl of the bunch, herself a nice plumper at, he guessed, maybe 5 foot 6 and 200 pounds, sauntered over and pressed herself against him. "So much for lack of sexual crap," he thought as he felt himself hardening into her thigh. She laughed, a deep, throaty sound, and backed off from him without the slightest shame. He looked at her questioningly. "Only the Mistress can grant that." He had no clue what she meant, but she went over to another guy and purposely brushed him while helping him sort apples in a number of baskets. Rayne watched him fight down his erection, and thought he understood. "We can't have sex here!" He wondered what sense that made, but was quickly diverted to reality when a basket thunked against his chest.
"You, this tree." A very fat man, his belly hiding his crotch in place of a leaf, nodded him over. "Lemme show you how to check readiness." Sighing, Rayne walked over. This was looking so fun.
Chapter the Fifth
Later that day a large bell rang in the tower, and the people went in, a squad of demons coming out to haul the loads of harvested food back in. There was to be no rest however. Rayne and the rest of the people flowed into the dining hall. Rayne, new to the experience, was astounded to find the tables heavily laden with food. The rather plump girl from his workgroup grabbed his wrist and pulled him to a seat at one of the tables. "Come on, don't just stand there, you must be starved, I know I am!" She sat down and grabbed a whole platter of grilled chicken. "Here, have some!" She loaded my plate and dug into the rest. I hesitantly picked up my fork and took a bit. It was delicious.
"So, uhh, who are you? And what's the deal with all.. this?"
"Oh, sorry, I'm Rena. And this, well... our Mistress wants us to show our appreciation for life here in our size."
"She wants you to get fat for being her slave?"
"Don't sound so negative. She wants us to enjoy ourselves. It's no accident any of us are here. We ALL love being fat, the Mistress sees to it you don't come in here if you don't."
"You... we... oh dear..."
Rena gave him a look. "What's that supposed to mean. You tellin' me you don't think I look good fat?" She effected a hurt look.
"No, no, not at all, you're beautiful, but-"
"Then that's all that matters." And she kissed me.
"I-I thought we couldn't do that here..." Rayne's mind was moving like a snail crawling through molasses.
"Of course we can. Life would suck if we couldn't. The Mistress just has to know first."
"Does she?"
"Oh yes, I spoke with her before dinner. Now, I have one condition."
"What?"
"If I have sex with you now, you promise to outgrow me within a month."
Rayne struggled for a second, but the choice was clear. "Deal."
"I was rather hoping you'd say that... here, you'll need to get started." Rena heaped his plate with food. He looked at it, looked back at her, and dug in.
