Artemis' Bow, Part 12 (Patreon)

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If Artemis had thought the city she’d found herself in prior had been opulent, it barely held a candle to Kettil’s estate. 

She could only conclude he must have been an incredibly wealthy character in the narrative of this world, and she wondered what she’d done to garner his attention. The borders of his land were marked with tall stone spires, interlocking towers wrapped in swirls of blue and gold. Kettil had offered the use of his wagon and horses, and as they passed, the quetzalcoatl explained that while each tower served a purpose, most of them were simply storage silos for the many goods he traded in. Glancing across at her with a lazy grin, he made sure to let her know that the majority of his trade was in food. 

Artemis found herself blushing, sitting as she was with her flabby stomach having torn through her dress. She wondered whether or not this was what she had meant to do, when she had asked Demeter for ‘something relaxing’.  The wolf again found herself reflecting on her presence in this virtual reality. Her AI had rented this simspace for her shortly after she had fallen asleep, and whilst Artemis had requested the chance to relax and be pampered, she hadn’t anticipated that she would be posed as some sort of nobility. Nor had she thought she’d allow herself to eat quite so much. 

Still, Artemis reflected, finding her hands inexplicably drawn to the fuzzy, blubbery dome of her stomach; at least here, she could explore her pleasures without worrying about real life consequences. If eating was something she enjoyed, she figured she ought to embrace it. At least, for now. 

When the carriage rolled to a stop, it did so in front of a massive building that looked halfway between a temple and a city hall. Great pillars held up a beautifully muraled roof and just behind them was a large room illuminated by torchlight that appeared to be some sort of banquet hall. The doors around it, Artemis assumed, lead further into the estate, but for her it was hard to take her eyes off of the banquet hall itself. She’d never seen anything like it. The sheer amount of food, the mountainous piles occupying the complete surface of the many tables within, made it look like something out of a dream. 

“I do hope it meets your standards, Your Grace.” 

Kettil slithered from the wagon, with the assistance of some of his servants. A fox and a jackal, both female, smiled as they took some of the weight of his many rolls of blubber and lowered the snake-like creature to the ground. He looked back up at her. 

“Of course,” Artemis eagerly answered. 

Her enthusiasm might have undermined her supposed role in the world as nobility, but she couldn’t help but sound a little excited. Butterflies were tumbling in her stomach as her own rabbit servants helped her down from the wagon, one bracing her low hanging stomach, the other holding her arm gently. During the cart ride she’d become used to the strange attention the servants would give her figure, from unwarranted stomach pats to their marvelling gaze, but that didn’t stop the blush the crept onto her cheeks. She was just thankful that nobody minded the state of her wardrobe - her dress had been all but destroyed, after all. If anything, it seemed to impress them.

As Artemis followed the quetzalcoatl she found her waddle was even more ungainly than his slug-like slither. She must have weighed close to the vicinity of five hundred pounds, or at the very least, it certainly felt as though she were lugging around hundreds of pounds of blubber. She was pulled at by her massive stomach until she felt she was going to tumble forward, only to overcompensate and find herself unnerved by the rampant wobbling of her naked asscheeks. Her knees were beginning to ache as the pair made their way into the main room, but her mind was fast distracted from such petty things as minor aches and grumbles.

The banquet hall was fabulous. Every table, every chair, was gilded with gold in fantastical patterns. The floor itself was a mosaic masterpiece, intricately detailing some battle of legend long past. But it wasn’t the floor, or the furniture, that held Artemis’ attention. It was the food. She’d never seen so much in one place before, piles and piles of one course after another, platters jutting over the edges of the long tables that filled the banquet hall. Her mouth hanging open, Artemis realised there was enough food here to feed a small army. Maybe two.

As she continues to look around, she realised that only Kettil and herself were present, along with their servants. For a feast of this size, she expected half the city must be invited. 

“A-and who will be joining us, Baron Kettil?” Artemis asked, working the moisture back into a dry mouth that had been left agape too long. 

“Joining us?” The quetzalcoatl laughed, “I would not sully this opportunity to bond with Your Grace by inviting strangers! Come, sit.” 

His vulpine servant helped him ascend a large wooden chair at the end of the room, which he coiled around lazily. Her own servants showed her to a second, beside it, which she slowly lowered herself on, secretly relieved to be off her feet once more. 

“Now sit back, relax,” he suggested, gesturing idly. “The servants will bring you your food, we may simply talk, and enjoy the feast.” 

And sit back she did, resting her tired, strained muscles against the surprisingly comfortable wooden back of the chair. It didn’t give the slightest groan in protest of her weight, much to her amazement. Sturdy like the tables, accommodating like a couch, Artemis didn’t take long to get comfortable, as her servants dished the first course of many. 

The two rabbits approached, heads bowed. Between them, they carried a massive golden platter, whose intricate designs and decorated plate were mostly obscured beneath what must have been an entire roasted bird, slathered in gravy and heaped with butter basted vegetables. It was unlike any bird Artemis had ever seen, bearing sharp looking scales and spine-like ridges that poked from its back. The divine tenderness of its flesh made her shiver, and  she was simultaneously reminded of the tastes and textures of turkey and crocodile, neither of which she had ever enjoyed from anything but a fabricator. 

Artemis’s thoughts drifted out of focus. For her, nothing mattered but the taste of the meal before her; the flavours that washed over her tongue, and the sensation of stuffing the meat into her face. She found herself feasting with savage glee, enjoying the feeling of bulging cheeks and a bulging throat, as well as the heavy warmth that had accumulated in her stomach. She briefly looked to her servants, enjoying the looks of surprise and astonishment that soon turned into looks of pride. But, most of all, she enjoyed herself. As one hand grappled with fistfuls of food, cramming her mouth as full as possible, the other would run over the blubbery curves of her stomach, exploring every bulge and roll as she felt them swell and grow. 

Artemis reduced the contents of the first platter to a pile of bones and half chewed vegetables, punctuating her accomplishment with a belch that sent spare gravy splattering across her gut. Her servants quickly removed the semi-vacant platter, replacing it near instantaneously with another. This platter had been loaded up with what appeared to be ham that had been sliced, cooked and wrapped around various half-melted cheeses, meats and pies. 

Heaving at her newly swollen stomach and squirming into a more comfortable position, Artemis managed to look across to see Kettil equally enjoying his meal. The blubbery quetzalcoatl’s stomach had expanded to encompass what must have been three platters worth of food already, the distended sphere of rolling fat rested firmly on his chair whilst he himself seemed to coil above it, allowing himself to be fed by his servants. To Artemis, it looked almost like the jackal and the fox were in competition to see which could stuff their master the fastest. By no means did Kettil seem to mind. 

As she looked back, Artemis found one of her own servants had taken the first of many mounds of bacon wrapped food from the plate and was holding it attentively to the wolf’s mouth. She blushed, wondering briefly if it were tradition here that the royalty were fed by hand. Surely not. Surely something had happened to distract the programming of this otherwise fine world, pushing it down another path entirely. But even if that were the case, Artemis wasn’t sure she minded. 

She opened her mouth and the whole bacon wrapped treat was pushed, abruptly and firmly, past her lips. Artemis squeaked quietly, startled, but managed to chew and swallow all the same. When she opened her mouth again, the process was repeated, her lapine subjects taking positions beside her chair to ensure that the moment one piece was finished, another would be introduced to her waiting maw. Although she contemplated complaining, she wondered what the point would be. Surely her servants were just streamlining the process, and though this wasn’t how she’d imagined she’d spend her time in simspace today, there was something delightfully sinful about it. She was enjoying things she’d never really had the chance to enjoy before in reality, virtual or otherwise. There was a guilty pleasure to be found and, as she leaned back, massaging the blubbery mound of her stomach, Artemis resolved to enjoy it as long as she could.

One platter became two, two platters became three, and Artemis could only watch in awe and delight as she slowly chipped away at the feast before her. For her, half an hour of feasting had ticked by in what felt like minutes, caught up in a blur of sensation and pleasure. As the third tray was pulled away empty, she felt a belch rise in her throat and saw for what felt like the first time, just how big she had become. Her stomach, already a large, furry boulder of fat, now rose before her, pinning her against the back of her chair and defying her to wrap her arms around it. She couldn’t; even huffing and leaning forward, the wolf found she couldn’t reach her navel, reduced to helplessly pawing at the blubber around it. 

Artemis looked over to find that Kettil had grown too. Now the quetzalcoatl all but enveloped his chair with oozing rolls of blubber, scales and feathers. He’d become so massive that his gut hung down the front of it, whilst wobbling rolls travelled up his neck and down his tail. He looked less like a dragon and more like a sausage that had been wrapped too tightly, but he was enjoying himself, and so were his servants. They took a break from their feeding every now and then to knead and paw at his stomach, coaxing belches from the mighty beast that rained crumbs down on thim. With one ear perked, Artemis could swear she’d even heard them gently teasing him. The jackal would lean into his ear and whisper quietly into it. Artemis picked up the words ‘greedy’ ‘spoilt’ and ‘pig’, but the quetzalcoatl simply blushed and kept eating. 

Artemis couldn’t blame him, the food was delicious and it seemed like the pair of them had barely made a dent in the feast. As she continued to eat, she found her servants became even more insistent, bordering on forceful - each mouthful became a little faster and even if she mumbled and spluttered out vague protests, there would always be another mound of food to stuff into her swollen cheeks. 

It was by perhaps the eighth platter that Artemis began to grow weary of the ‘meal’ she’d been invited to. She groaned as she fully realised that her stomach now rose far above her, hindering her view entirely of anything to her front, a great bulging boulder of fat that was almost as wide around as she was tall. Her breasts had ballooned into great melons, propped up by that stomach of hers. They had, some time ago, burst out of the last restraints her dress had to offer, rendering the once exquisite garment nothing more than stained, ruined fabric. Looking to her sides, with her muzzle pressing into a bulging ring of fat that now surrounded her neck, she could just faintly see past the tremendous stacks of her love handles, where her ass was beginning to ooze over the sides of the massive chair she’d been seated in. Above them, and propped up on the rolls at her sides, her arms had likewise become swaddled in pillowy flesh, further restricting their movement. Even lifting them was becoming more effort than it was worth. 

She wasn’t just fat, she was huge; as fat as the wolf, Texas, had been on the Wayfarer ship, maybe even fatter. She could feel herself grow, feel her stomach as it gurgled and churned through the obscene amount of food that had been stuffed into it. She felt her skin stretched to cover the taxed organ, every inch, every foot of blubber as it wobbled and jiggled with the slightest movement. 

The word, ‘Stop!’ was pushed from Artemis’ throat, but when she opened her mouth, all she managed was a long, rumbling belch. Upon its conclusion one of her servants patted her stomach like she was some prize sow, and pushed a whole cheese-stuffed pastry into her mouth. As they kept stuffing her, it dawned on her that she couldn’t tell them to stop. Whenever she tried, she had to get past the gas that had built up in her stomach and the enthusiasm of her servant’s feeding. Moaning, the bloated and ballooning wolf tried to raise her hands, she tried to fend them off, but her arms were too heavy and she was nowhere strong enough to impose any real will on them. They saw her slow and gentle flailing as encouragement and, if anything, the feeding became more intense. 

Managing a glance towards her host, and struggling to see once again over her own wobbling cheeks, Artemis was confused momentarily by what she saw. She didn’t understand how that jiggling, panting, grease stained mound of feathers could be the same creature that she’d waddled in with. It took her a couple of seconds in between chewing and swallowing, but she did manage to make out the key features of the quetzalcoatl, even if they were buried behind what must have been feet of blubber. His snout, once long and elegant, was flanked either side by cheeks that threatened to swallow it completely. Beneath it, a trickle of drool splashed across the few chins that fed into the first of the many blubbery rolls that had completely consumed his neck and body. His wings seemed completely redundant now, fattened little nubs that decorated his obese, slug-like body. And slug-like it was, as Artemis couldn’t imagine any snake ever being as fat as this. 

In every way, he was massive. His body oozed over his chair, burying it completely if not having utterly demolished it beneath his weight. A massive, sausage-like collection of rolls, streaked with grease, gravy and every other sauce and juice available at the banquet. Puddles of sweat were starting to appear beneath him, but as Artemis once again found his face among the rolls of fat, she saw the quetzalcoatl to be smiling blissfully as he was fed roughly by his servants. 

Artemis’s attention was brought back to her own situation by a pair of paws forcing her lips apart, to shove a handful of meat inside. Apparently no longer happy to wait for her gasping puffs for air, her servants took it upon themselves to lean against her sides and make sure her mouth was always open, always receptive to the food that had been prepared for her. Her indignant protests were continually interrupted and drowned out behind the forceful shoving of food, delayed by the few frantic chews she managed before being muted all over again as one mouthful was replaced by another, and then another. Despite feeling less like an honored guest, and more like a stuffed pig, Artemis found that she could retreat to that small part of herself that enjoyed the process. There was nothing she could do to prevent what was happening, after all. 

Every time she tried to move her arms to block one servant, another took their place to gently hold her paws, grasping them and telling her that she was ‘doing great’. When she tried to spit the food back out, her servants assumed her mouth was opening for more, and more was stuffed in. She didn’t choke, or gag- she didn’t feel the need to. Her throat, in this virtual reality, felt as though it was one long, flexible muscle, designed to deliver food from her overstuffed cheeks, down into the growing center of her stretching gut. 

As Artemis’s own lovehandles outgrew the sides of her chair, step ladders were brought out. They had to press against the ballooning mass of her black furred gut just to reach her mouth, but her servants didn’t stop feeding her for a moment. Slowly, as one platter was tossed aside for the next, the blubbery mound of a wolf began to appreciate her own growth. 

She could feel as the fat began to give way to pure, gut aching bloat. It was as though her servants tenacity in feeding her had surpassed even the simspace’s own laws of biology. Her body, no longer able to convert the food into blubber at a pace fast enough to keep up with her servant’s stuffing, had begun to swell, as though she were filling with water like some balloon on a tap. The wolf’s stomach began to groan, creaking ever so slightly as it puffed up in front of her, pushing her breasts against her face and forcing her to angle her muzzle up. Her arms were held out at forty five degree angles, draped across the increasingly shallow rolls of lard at her sides, which gradually smoothed out as her hide stretched over the incredible amount of food she was consuming. Beneath her stomach, pinned and spread wide, her legs bore the brunt of her incredible weight. Her toes wriggled and squirmed, brushing up against the underside of that massive, gurgling beast of a gut. 

It felt incredible. 

Unsure if it had been minutes, or hours, Artemis found herself groaning with a mixture of pain and delight. If she had thought herself stretched before, that was nothing compared with what she was now. She could feel herself, every inch of her massive, wobbling, creaking body. A shuddering mound of a fur that could likely eclipse Miranda, or perhaps even encompass her. She didn’t know how heavy she was, but she would hardly be surprised if the total came to at least a ton. 

Her arms were no more than blubber ringed stubs on the bloated, groaning orb of her body. Her breasts filled her entire view to the front, but she didn’t need to see, to know how big she was. She was a huge, creaking balloon whose every breath was a laboured pant. So immense that her servants had to climb upon her body, just to reach her grease stained face. She was an overfilled, overfed blimp, swelling bigger and bigger with every mouthful. As the pain in her stomach reached a horrible, creaking crescendo, she knew with certainty that if she ate much more, she would come apart at the seams, splattering across the banquet hall in a tide of blubber and digesting food. This thought didn’t scare Artemis as much as she expected it might; she was in virtual reality, after all, and the experience was likely to be momentary at the very worst, but likely entirely painless. 

In fact, the idea vaguely aroused her. It would be a spectacular way to end her time in this reality. 

A pleasure as guilty as her weight gain had been. 

Managing a glance towards Kettil, Artemis saw no more of the quetzalcoatl than a great, heaving wall of blubber, sweat, grease, feathers and scales. She could see his servants, buzzing around the tables, hurrying to and fro, but her host had long since abandoned his chair. Instead, he had begun to occupy a space in the banquet hall, which the wolf hadn’t thought possible. From what little she could see, he was simply massive. 

As she looked back to where she expected her servants to be waiting for her with another handful of food, Artemis found there to be nothing. The rabbits who had served her so far, who had fed her to immobility, to morbid obesity and beyond, were carefully climbing down from her body and looking up at her with breathless pride. 

“Congratulations, Your Grace!” One shouted from beyond the horizon of her stomach. 

She heard the others take up the cheer, along with a round of applause. Artemis blushed.  She didn’t know what she could have done to be worth congratulating. 

Kettil gave a low, gurgling moan. “Oh yes, that was good,” he said, his feathers shifting as his body jiggled. “Made me feel thin again.” He laughed, although the pressure on his lungs reduced it to an amused little wheeze. “We should do this again.” 

“Again?” Artemis couldn’t keep the incredulity from her voice. Once seemed like enough for one lifetime, and yet she could not deny that small part of her that found pleasure, even in being as she was now. A balloon of lard, devoid of agency and control. 

“Yeah! I mean, I gotta go to work now but this was fun, Art. I’ll shoot you my Tag and we can hang out again some time.” With his words hanging in the air and in the blink of an eye, Kettil was gone. The massive quetzalcoatl had...

“Logged out?!” 

The rabbit servants exchanged glances, eyeing Artemis with equal parts concern and confusion, but she was too furious to humor them as she sputtered for several seconds, trying to find the words to express her outrage.

“I thought she said this was a private sim!” Artemis finally yelled, her face lighting up like neon with humiliation and shame. 

She had been sharing the simspace with another player this whole time. The wolf seethed, aghast at the display she had inadvertently put on for another living person, but she could not bring herself to summon Demeter. Even if the AI was already watching, she didn’t want to answer questions about her current, immobile, state of being. 

She wasn’t sure if she could.

“Simspace close.” 

And it did. 

Artemis landed with a small jolt in bed, the same size and weight she had been before her adventure began. Immediately she began to miss the warmth and comfort of her previous size. Her blankets did little to emulate the feet of blubber she’d been wrapped in before. But as she lay on her side and thought about trying to sleep, Artemis noticed a blinking notification on her holodisplay. It was Kettil’s Network Tag and an invitation to ‘play’ with him again. She saved the information, tucking it away some place safe. 

Maybe she would. 

* * * 

Voting Options:

General Audience: https://strawpoll.com/4s1gxsr 

In the next chapter the Jackal receives first contact with a mysterious source from Amanita Beta who claims to have valuable information, with a small crew it could be anyone who answers the communication, this time it’s:

A, Artemis, who exercises a captain’s sense of caution.

B, Alexandra, whose courage and previous experience affords her interrogative ability.

C, Aava, a soul bright with empathy, yet maternal command.

PATRON OPTIONS: https://strawpoll.com/x9wcrw3 

Meanwhile:

A, Alexandra has shown off her culinary talent, a feast has been prepared for the crew, (wg)

B, A small invasion of rodent-like critters threatens the Jackal’s electronic systems (wg + vore)

C, The crew explores some of the cargo they’ve liberated so far, (wg + stuffing/bloating)