october 9th 2024
Bailey leaned over to take another glance at the hourglass that hung from one stocking. The sand was nearly half gone from the top, meaning that the steward had been waiting here for almost half a bleeding hour.
The Lady's instructions had been clear: no one was to wake her from her daily naps, unless she had to get ready for some sort of court function. Ordinarily, Bailey would have been more than happy to disobey and wake her up - possibly using some appendage other than the hands. But it was far too risky at this time of day, when her husband the Duke could walk in at any moment.
So the frustrated servant sat, listening to the Duchess snore. Supposedly, sleeping in a reclining position was a way to relieve snoring, but it didn't seem to be working very well for her lately. As thick as the castle walls were, anyone on the floor above the Duchess' chambers could tell within seconds whether the Lady of the court was sleeping or awake. Not that her secret lover was the least bit surprised; last week, the two of them had discovered that the Duchess' belly was now so heavy that her steward couldn't lift it unaided, even with both arms. That had put quite the damper on their sex life. While Bailey was easily able to make do with the gluttonous noblewoman's navel - itself almost six inches deep, and lubricated well enough by her own sweat - that wasn't enough for the Duchess to be satisfied in her accustomed way.
Finally, sighing, Bailey had enough. Rising from the chair by the door, the immaculately dressed steward walked down the hallway to a similarly appointed antechamber. There sat a bearded, burly man on a stool, scraping a whetstone against the edge of a two-handed sword.
"Beg pardon, Your Grace?"
The Duke looked up, squinting to see who the speaker was. "Bailey. What is it?"
"I have the Duchess' medicine from the apothecary, my Lord." The servant held up a small wooden box, which did indeed contain the Lady's elixir. Yes, it sat alongside two new bottles of unknown contents, but the statement was still technically true. "Her Grace said that she was not to be disturbed, but... she must have her medicine if she is to keep up her strength."
He nodded. "Go ahead. Ye can tell her it was me orders, if she makes a fuss."
"Will you be dining with Her Grace tonight, my Lord?"
"Gods, no. I'll see her on the morrow, if she don't oversleep again."
Bailey bowed curtly, and began the walk back to the Duchess' chambers. Though the Duke was handsome for a man, the marriage had been one purely of convenience; he wanted her money, and she needed to silence the whispers about not having a husband at her age. The couple spent as little time in each other's company as possible, which was fine by the both of them... and fine by Bailey, but for different reasons.
"My Lady?" The liveried steward closed the door and strode briskly toward the noblewoman's bed. Truth be told, it was little more than a mattress at this point; she had broken the wooden frame, and decided not to bother with a new one. Considering how close her massive thighs came to the edge of the mattress, all involved agreed this was a wise decision.
Bailey slapped the Duchess' arm, sending ripples through her soft flesh.
"Ahh?" She woke with a start, annoyed at having her fitful sleep interrupted. "Oh, Bailey. What do you want?"
"I have received Your Grace's medicine." The steward opened the box, revealing three vials of bluish fluid, next to a strange pair of painted ceramic bottles held together by a copper rod that pierced both corks. "As well as something special the apothecary recommended."
The Duchess frowned. "Something special?"
Bailey nodded, smiling coyly. "I told him of your difficulties... reaching of late. He said this pair of potions should help for a little while."
"How, exactly?"
"I don't know, my Lady. I suppose we'll find out." The steward removed the coupled bottles, holding one and offering the other to the Duchess. "The apothecary said you hold the red phial, and 'your husband' holds the green one. Then we carefully bend the rod until it breaks."
Both of them did so, though the Duchess feared she would break the ceramic bottle if she gripped it too hard with her plump fingers. The soft metal soon gave way, with what looked like a tiny flash of light as the copper weakened and snapped.
"Now, we stir the fluid..." Bailey gently shook the green bottle, and the Duchess did the same with the red. "And we each drink from our bottles. The man said it is fairly concentrated, so we need only drink about half of them at once."
"Bottoms up, then." She uncorked her bottle, briefly wincing at the smell, then tossed back a shot's worth. Immediately her tongue regretted the decision; the stuff smelled like old pennies, and tasted like gritty bile. Her servant seemed to be having a similar experience, but took it with a level of dignity and decorum that never ceased to amuse Her Grace.
Bailey clicked two fingers together. "The apothecary said we should both be sitting down on a sturdy surface. Beg pardon, Your Grace." The steward found one of the few relatively empty spots on the Duchess' mattress, sitting at a right angle to her. "I suppose the elixirs should start working soon..."
A loud gurgling noise came from the Duchess' gut. With her appetite, this was hardly an unusual event, but she gasped slightly and tried to massage her upper belly. Thankfully her stomach was mostly empty, but as she rubbed with her fingertips, she couldn't help feeling as though they didn't sink in as deeply as they should have.
"My Lady, erm..." The trim servant swallowed. "I mean no offense, but are you getting... thinner?"
As if on cue, another loud noise sounded in the plump noblewoman's stomach. Looking down, she saw her toes as she wiggled them - a sight which had eluded her for almost a year now, as her body slowly took up more and more of her vision. "Gods, I think you're right..."
"That... might not be as helpful as the old puff-adder thought." Bailey frowned; while taking off a few stone would indeed make it easier for the Lady to move during sex, doing so removed the one thing that made it possible for them to fornicate in the first place. Indeed, the eunuch could almost feel the organ in question shrinking in time with the Duchess' waistline.
The Duchess sighed, lifting her arms with unaccustomed ease. "Are you feeling anything different?"
"No..." But as soon as the word left Bailey's lips, quite a loud gurgle came from the steward's stomach. "I do... urrp... feel rather bloated, I suppose..."
Frowning, the increasingly slim Duchess looked at the papyrus label affixed to her bottle. "What does 'Omniflex' mean? Is it Gnomish?"
The eunuch shrugged, then tried to stifle another burp. As the steward reached down to give a soothing rub to an oddly full-feeling stomach, Bailey noticed that the stomach in question didn't just feel full - it was quite round.
"Hmm..." She bit her lip at the sight of her servant's bloated belly. "I must admit, a bit of a tummy suits you."
Bailey didn't necessarily disagree, but was a little alarmed at how... soft the roundness felt, as though a bit of weight had already been put on. "My Lady... about how much would you say you weigh now? After drinking that potion, I mean."
The Duchess looked down at her figure, which now resembled her size at age twenty. While hardly skinny by most standards, her breasts and hips were soft and inviting without getting in her way too much - and these curves had made her quite popular among her classmates. "Around thirteen stone, I think?"
It took a moment for Bailey to exchange that measure for pounds, and then to subtract that from the last time the Duchess had been successfully weighed. That extremely large number, with about 200 subtracted... the result made the steward's cheeks flush, as the rest of Bailey's body began to soften and bulge beneath the tailored livery. "P-perhaps we should, er... remove these clothes, Your Grace."
"No." She was starting to see what was happening. "I think we know what 'Omniflex' means now."
"B-b-but Your Grace, my uniform will be ruined-"
"-and I want to watch." Her grin turned slightly sinister as she anticipated her slim and trim servant expanding to her usual size.
Bailey's seated position on the bed was already changing, legs being forced apart as the formerly stick-thin thighs began to thicken. The delicately woven tights began to rip at the seams, exposing pale, flabby skin - and, as the groin's seams gave way, a slowly stiffening prick.
The Duchess giggled; even only half-erect, Bailey's member was almost seven inches long. "You naughty thing! Are you getting aroused at the sight of yourself fattening up?"
"N-no..." Bailey flushed pink, not understanding why this felt... the way it felt. The snug-fitting uniform jacket was starting to strain at its seams, and more and more flesh began to poke through the gaps.
She reached over and began gently stroking her servant's prick. "Oh, I think you are. Getting hard feeling yourself swell up like a wineskin. And it isn't stopping yet. In just a few minutes, you'll be up to three hundred pounds... then three hundred kilos..."
There was no hiding the reaction as Bailey's cock grew still harder - probably from the Duchess' touch, her nimble hands applying just the right amount of pressure to the shaft. Just from her touch, not from the teasing.
Sure, Bailey. Just keep telling yourself that...
The spoiled noblewoman grinned again as more of the seams ripped open; what had previously been a primly fitted doublet was now little more than a torn vest, with Bailey's round belly fully on display. "What would the other servants say if they saw you like this, hmm? 'Oh, Bailey used to be such a delicate thing, such a hard worker... But now look!'"
She is definitely doing this on purpose...
"So horny, and yet so helpless... I doubt you can even reach around your gut to pleasure yourself."
Bailey tried to prove her wrong, but after several minutes of trying to use both doughy arms to reach past an even doughier belly - both growing fatter the whole time - the steward collapsed backward onto the mattress, panting from the effort. "M-my Lady... please..."
"Please what?"
The fattened servant whined in frustration. "I... I need release..."
"You'll have to beg for it." The Duchess abruptly stopped stroking, and her steward's tummy fell down, the lap completely hidden from view by jiggly flesh.
"Please, Your Grace... Oh, please..."
"Tell me why. Say you're too fat to get off without help." She grinned wickedly. "Say it."
Bailey's cheeks were bright red, eyes watering - not from embarrassment, but from arousal. "I... I'm too huge to reach... can't even get my arms around my big, fat belly..."
That was all she needed. The Duchess straddled Bailey's thick thighs, idly thinking about how long it had been since she had been on top. Her muscles unhindered by heavy fat, she was easily able to lift her servant's massive gut and position herself to ride the one thing she enjoyed almost as much as food.
As she slid her sopping wet womanhood onto Bailey's prick, she gasped at how much it filled her up this way. The different position certainly forced it deeper in, but she wondered if maybe this particular appendage hadn't gotten a bit fatter, too. For a few moments, she simply savored the feeling of being surrounded by warm, pillowy flesh; then she began to rock forward and back, her eyes rolling back as Bailey's cock rubbed against her most sensitive spot.
Bailey was lost in sensation, enjoying every new feeling: newly massive belly and hips being squeezed by the Duchess' legs as she bucked back and forth; the swaying of the servant's own flesh, the head and chest feeling as though they floated in a sea of fat; even the welcome relaxation of having someone else do most of the work.
Then the steward imagined being even bigger and heavier than the Duchess had ever been - overfed to such extremes that almost the entire chamber was taken up by quivering, jelly-like flesh - and climaxed so hard that the Duchess feared she might be pushed off. That throbbing, that fullness, was what she had been waiting for, and she let out a moan that could almost have been mistaken for a scream.
* * * *
An hour later, the potions had worn off. Both of the paramours were back to normal - Bailey stick-thin, the Duchess redolent in her uncountable curves and rolls - but still stark naked. They would have to see about getting a new uniform for the steward without drawing attention; but that was a worry for later. For now, Bailey simply sat flexing arms and fingers one at a time, mind still trying to grasp how it felt for them to be surrounded, weighed down by soft, squishy fat.
"Bailey?"
"Yes, Your Grace?"
The Duchess smiled, still slightly love-drunk from the after-effects of her orgasm. "Make sure you pit the rest of those potions in a safe place."
Bailey nodded, giving a smile so subtle that even the Duchess barely noticed it. "As you wish, My Lady." ■