Growing Passions: The Harem Of Arison by Editscifi

Growing Passions
The Harem Of Arison

The nation of Arison was one of many on the blue planet which circled the white Dwarf star in the Antenna Galaxy.  They were very much human in look and in thinking, but their culture had evolved in a very different way.  Technology had developed along the interests and expectations of the people’s values, and in many ways was quite advanced, but in many other ways they were quite primitive, mainly because they simply didn’t care.

The cultures of the different races on this distant planet were as diverse as any other.  Some were warlike, others were peaceful.  Some valued reason over everything else, and some thought strength was the root of all power.  But among the many countries there was one constant which was believed by all.  Women were no more than property owned first by the father and then by the husband, or brothel where they were kept.  A woman had no voice and had no say in her life.

But a real problem had occurred in the nation bordering the equatorial ocean.  The Prince of Arison had become ill on a trip to buy his breeding consort.  It had been kept quiet, but the young man’s mind was nearly dead.  The virus had run its course, but Joranal would spend his life in a near dead stupor.  Unknown to the kingdom he had been weak since birth and had fought off illnesses no one else but the weak could get.

The Sultan Olal had been given four breeding consorts in his life and this one boy was his only son.  There were twenty daughters of varying ages but no other boy and he was too old to sire and train another son.  The solution was hard to find, Arison had no room for him to adopt a child or to appoint an heir that wasn’t blood.  It had to be kin and he had no nephews or other kin who would do.  So he did the unthinkable and looked to his most ugly of girls.

The twin of Joranal was nearly identical to the nearly brain dead man and so she became her brother.  In stance and in her features she was a good match and when she put on his clothes even the servants couldn’t tell the difference.  The true prince was sent to the estate of the young man’s consort and it was made clear that though she was genetically ideal the young prince couldn’t stand the sight of her.  The new Joranal would never meet the children who would be her heirs and would never see their dam.  And in truth the king was right.  Joranal the new prince would have been repulsed by her consort, a thin and angular woman.  Sultan Olal had chosen well, no other girl could have played the part as well, even with her own harem which she was expected to make.

After a year of playing prince Joranal had proven she could disguise herself perfectly and convince even the most brutish of men she was most definitely a man.  Secretly Olal wished she had been his son and not the feeble boy, but things had worked out and he felt satisfied no one would be the wiser.  Before the year was over The Sultan Olal died with no warning and Prince Joranal was Sultan Joranal ruler of the nation by the ocean of life.  The nation was hers as were the responsibilities of the land.

As odd to us as it may sound one of the most important responsibilities of the ruler was his Harem.  The larger the number of women he kept and the more frequently they were bedded the stronger and more virile the man, though these women were put to death if they ever became pregnant.  This led to a couple of problems for the ruler.  The Sultan couldn’t have sex with women without them knowing her secret.

Women who were attracted to other women were cast out on the street and often taken in and butchered for food for the livestock.  Her fate would be no better if she were found out, so she let out that she wanted only women whom she alone had interviewed.

The other problem wasn’t as big, but could become awkward.  She had a desire to have a harem as any other prince would and once the Sultan she wanted it just as she desired.  In the land of Arison what a man was attracted to was his own business.  If he liked his women to always be pregnant then he could do so with no question of what happened to the babies.  If he never wanted his women to leave the house that was fine as well, but Jaranal wanted his women to start off plump and grow to her liking, she had to let it out that she wanted two things, one was they all be well fed and soft, but not larger than 2 mores, the equivalents of 180 pounds.  The other thing was she wanted them to be desiring sex with the Sultan and other women as well.  In this she hoped she’d find other women with a secret to keep.

Things went well and without scandal for the Sultan Jaranal and her harem of women.  Most men didn’t believe a woman could learn to read, or do math.  The idea that their benevolent ruler was in fact a woman would have lead to her being beaten and left for the scavengers outside of their town.  Jaranal became known as the beardless king and was recognized as a fertile man being that his breeding woman had already bore him two children so soon after being crowned.  After that younger men kept their faces clean to mimic that of their leader.

On a day quite common for the Sultan a message arrived from a local asking her to see his daughter to find if she would be appropriate for the harem.  The slender ruler sat in a large cushioned throne at the top of a set of stairs.  The throne was gold and studded with rubies and diamonds with the Sultan as its most brilliant gem.  The woman dressed in a red sequined cloak meant for a man with a gold top and trousers underneath.  She sat tall and proud as she waited for the young woman to enter.

What she saw was a short plump girl in what was clearly her finest clothes, but to the tall proud leader they looked like rags, “she’s not much to look at.”

The young woman looked down in shame knowing she would be sent out on the streets if she wasn’t accepted here.

A large brute of a man stood beside her, he cuffed her on the arm hard enough to knock her over a little, “look up girl and stand straight, show him your face.”

With fear she looked up at the man and showed her large brown eyes set in a plump face.  Her hair was long and straight with a deep chestnut color.

“Have her come up here,” Joranal said as if contemplating things.

The young woman looked up in surprise as she heard the order her father shoved her to the steps making her fall to the ground, “get over there.  Do as your king says.”

Sultan Joranal stood now in anger, “hey, no one strikes the women in my home but me.  I’m having her climb the steps for a reason, how can I know what I need to if you damage her.”

The man looked chagrined and bowed away.  The young woman made it to the top with some effort.  Heaving with every step she found her way to the top.

“Well, you’re clearly on your way,” Joranal said coolly looking at the woman who couldn’t properly climb a flight of stairs without help.  “I only have a couple of questions, simply answer them honestly and I’ll know what I need to know.”

Sultan Jaranal looked at the young woman.  She was about eighteen years old and up close was relatively pretty.  She thought the young woman could become quite lovely with enough help, but that wasn’t the issue.  By the customs of the land the young woman had to stay in a subservient position at all times not matter what was said or done.  She also couldn’t speak or make any sound implying need of any kind in front of her Sultan.  If she had passed out from hunger or illness she could be put to death for insulting the Sultan’s place in the society.  So she stood with her head down in a low crouch fighting to keep from breathing too heavily and trying not to show the pain in her legs from the climb up the thirty steps.

“Have you ever been with a man?”  Sultan Jaranal asked looking seriously at the young woman to gauge her response.  There wasn’t taboo against premarital sex and few women were virgins on the day of their tie to a man.

“Yes, my Lord.”  The young woman kept her head down as many did in front of the Sultan when hiding displeasure, keeping it in as low a posture as possible feigning extreme deference.

“Would you be opposed to sharing your nights with a woman?”  It was known the Sultan not only enjoyed having many women at a time, but also in watching those women have each other.  Something most men didn’t like on account of certain taboos which didn’t apply to royalty.

At that the young woman’s poise lightened but then cowered a bit in reflexive fear, “I will do as my Lord asks of me.”

This wasn’t a direct answer, but it said what the Sultan wanted to know.  Sultan Joranal spoke loudly to the man at the foot of the stairs, “you may leave your daughter here.  She will do.”

The man left happy, counting the points of status he had gained.  The prestige of having a girl he had sired become one of the Sultan’s women would make up for the shame of baring a girl, “Thank you my Lord.”

“And now,” Sultan Joranal turned again to the girl, “what is your name?”

“If it would so please your Grace, my name is Marasha.”  The young woman was led down the stairs and through the great halls of the palace to a building that by comparison looked like a cottage, but was in fact a large palatial dwelling with open rooms.

When Marasha walked into the building she stared in wonder at the layout of the open design, and its inhabitants.  More than thirty women varying from quite plump to massively fat sat stood or lay in different states of rest.  All the women wore fitted jeweled clothing in many different styles.  All the clothes had one thing in common; each outfit left the expanding women’s bellies exposed in a way no other women were permitted.  It was actually a creed made by the Sultan but all these women’s bellies were not only exposed, but hung out in a way that looked intentionally provocative.

Marasha was still staring in disbelief when one of the women laying on a large bed in the middle of the main room said, “looks like we have a new one joining us.”

A servant came and began posing her, holding out an arm and measuring it and other parts of her body.  Marasha looked at the young dowdy servant girl in shock as she began to remove her slip of a gown right there, “but…”

The women laughed at her outburst in peals of mirth, “she has to change you.”  One finally said.

“In front of you?”  She looked again at the women who were all watching her as if this was a show for them.

One short very fat girl walked up to her with her large belly swaying back and forth and her half exposed breasts bouncing along, “We’ll be getting to know each other much better very soon.”  She traced her hand down the now exposed chest and belly of Marasha in a quite seductive way, “no reason why we can’t start now.”

The touch brought a shiver through the young woman who had never been given such an intimate caress.  When the woman reached her belly she felt soft quiver which brought a gasp to her lips.

“Mhh, my,” the blond woman said smiling at her, “She’ll be a ripe one.”  She turned to the group who were smiling with lust.  I bet she’ll be one to pop every time.”  Again peals of laughter filled the air.

Marasha was now dressed in a short skirt that barely covered her round full rump in the back but lay out longer in the front.  The top was no more than two pieces of fabric that crossed over her full breasts holding them in place with ingeniously designed cups which made them stand higher on her chest than they had ever before.  Though the dress was little more than three pieces of fabric held together over her body it was still the most exquisite thing she had ever worn.  Now like all the other young women her much smaller belly hung out swaying back and forth with every movement she made.

Instinctively she tried to cover herself fearing some sort of punishment in spite of the fact that every other woman was dressed exactly the same way.  This again brought peals of laughter from the women who weren’t in fact laughing at her, but the memory of doing the exact same thing.  “My dear, we are special,” yet another young woman said, “We are the fattened harem of the Sultan.  It is our duty to show our bellies.”

Then a team of female slaves came in with platter after platter of food on carts.  Fried meats, lathered in fattening gravies, pastries drizzled in that world’s version of chocolate, and the most prized thing of all, a delicate concoction of pure fat made palatable by a plant’s extract coated it in a shell which tasted like flavored sugar.  More and more carts of food were brought out and the few women standing went to the many lounges and got themselves comfortable.

“Come on girl,” one of the fattest women said, “you have to eat.”

One of the other women laughed gleefully with her mouth full of the prized treat, “It’s a solemn duty to prepare yourself for the Sultan.”

Another woman spoke up after swallowing some of the fried meat, “and get off your feet, you don’t want to waste the fat on standing.”

As Marasha lay on an empty bed she saw still more carts of food being wheeled into the one area which appeared to be closed off, “where’s that going?”  The young woman asked indolently.

The largest woman answered, “those are for the most prized ones of us.”

Marasha lay half reclined with many pillows propping her up feeling the soft orb of her bloated belly.  It had only been recently that the young woman had put on weight by her father’s insistence knowing if she was acceptable he could find favor in the community if one of his daughters was accepted as a consort of the Sultan.  Her dad had force fed her and it had been a humiliating and painful experience, but this was nothing short of pure joy.

Only the best foods were given to the women and each had their pick of any foods that could be made.  The gluttonous women gorged like this for the major meals of the day.  She had joined in time for only the early evening meal, and had missed the sheer volume of the earlier gorgings.

“Wonderful isn’t it?”  One of the smaller and therefore newer women said languidly lounging on an inclined bed “They make the best fares here of anywhere else.”  The fare was the name of the sweet coated fat delicacy.  The nectar compound which made up the shell had chemicals that made more than 80% of the fat digested, absorbed and turned into body fat.  It also helped speed up digestion making the large gorgings an option.

The young female slaves came in now with vials of what simply looked like lotion.  Marasha lay in a half drugged stupor as one of the ugly women walked up to her and began to lotion the exposed belly. “Mmhh,” was all she could say as she felt a warm sensation come over the total of her small belly.  She didn’t know another compound from herbs was in the lotion stimulating the layer closest to the skin to divide over and over again encouraging newly acquired fat to migrate to the lotioned parts of the body.  This too helped in the body’s absorption of fat.  The young women were chosen for the job because they had a genetic quirk which kept them from being affected by the compound, “do you get this every day?”  The young woman asked after the slaves were done.

The whole house of women laughed as one finally answered, “We get this after every meal.”

Another spoke up still a little dopey herself, “the Sultan gives us everything we want.”

The newest to the group heard again a slight inflection to the title Sultan that implied something she wasn’t sure about.  It lingered in her mind as she felt the softness of her own pouty little belly.  She thought it might be an illusion but she could swear it was already beginning to grow.  The dress did feel a bit snugger, but that could just be her shifting around as her body digested.

Less than a full two hours later Marasha was hungry again.  The hunger began to grow more as the time passed.  Then after another twenty minutes the main door to the house opened and the large group of hungry women brightened at the sight of their Sultan walking in.  The ruler was dressed in evening clothes, not so much ready for bed, but ready for the end of the day’s affairs and now able to enjoy a ruler’s wealth.  The top and pants were a casual brown and though clearly of an expensive fabric much like silk.  It was plain and had no jewels or patterns.  The cloak was also much simpler, but was clearly a fine peace of clothing.  It had a trimming around its border of a mink like quality.  The Sultan’s head was covered as it always was in public as a sign of protection, this time with the hood of the cloak.

Though she had stood next to him, Marasha hadn’t been able to really look at him and now saw that though not traditionally handsome he had strong features on a slight frame.  His seed must be potent.  His breeding mate was pregnant again.  All the women in the group smiled as they saw the revered King come in, “My women, how have you been treating my newest acquisition?”

The largest of the women smiled and said, “Oh she’ll be wonderful, she ate an entire plate of fares.”  The woman shifted her weight in a way that let her massive belly lay beside her as she was partly on her side.

Sultan Jaranal walked up to the newest woman and leaned down to caress her small belly, “Yes, I see it’s already just a bit bigger.”  The young woman recoiled at the touch of the Sultan, but instead of angering him it brought an amused smile to the leader’s face, “I take it you haven’t had the chance to explain the state of things to her yet.”

Again the largest of the women spoke, “when could we?  The slaves were here most of the time.”

Sultan Jaranal walked over to the woman who seemed almost too fat to walk now and languidly traced one hand down the huge woman’s belly, “I suppose this will be our last chance together before you move to the other room.”  There seemed to be a mix of regret and titillation in the Sultan’s voice, “very well I’ll have you as well tonight.  Let’s see, who else?”

“I think you should let the new girl pick.”  An errant voice from the crowd said.

Peals of giggling rang out but Marasha froze in fear, the sheer brazenness of the women shocked her.  No women spoke like this to a man no matter how pampered she was.  It was too easy for such privilege to be taken away.  It was heresy to assume a woman could presume to voice her opinion to the Sultan.

But the Sultan simply smiled and said, “Very well, Marasha, it’s your choice.  With whom would you like to be bedded tonight?”  The look of shock wasn’t lost on Jaranal, she smiled conspiratorially and said, “the slaves aren’t allowed in here when I am with my women, if one was found to pass the guards who wait outside they would be executed before ever opening their mouth.  Your indulgences are safe here.”

Marasha looked around the room and saw the blond with large breasts on top of a large belly who had caressed her own small belly and pointed, “her.”  The voice was so small only the Sultan had heard it.

Joranal smiled, “Barma, good choice, my girl.”  The Sultan turned and walked to a back area closed off by a set of double doors.

The fattest of them all named Halya heaved and pushed herself from the laying position eventually getting herself up to a stand, and walked towards the back.  Barma pulled herself up as well and followed with more energy and clear anticipation for something wonderful.  Only then did the newest realize she was supposed to follow.

As she found herself catching up with Halya she heard the woman say quietly, “understand that if you ever speak of what you are about to see, you will not only destroy this nation, but cast us all out on the streets to be killed for boar food.”  The woman was already breathing heavily but her words carried the weight of their meaning well, “and whomever destroys this life for us will be the first to die as slowly and painfully as we can make her.”

The words struck Marasha hard, but she couldn’t imagine what could be so horrible a secret.  When she entered the room however, the question was answered and the young woman stared in utter shock.

Marasha stood staring in stunned disbelief.  The room was filled with food enough for a banquet for sixteen people and was lit by orbs which let off a soft warm glow.  Barma was already getting a large platter of candies and pastries and taking them to a massive bed that lay in the center of the large room.  The bed could have easily bedded nine people it was so huge, and had enough pillows of varying sizes to satisfy an army of people.  The young fat blond took some pillows and made herself comfortable as she smiled at Marasha who still stared in stunned silence, “what’s the matter aren’t you hungry?”  And Barma coyly placed a fare on her tongue and swallowed it whole.

But it wasn’t the seductive fat woman that grabbed Marasha’s attention.  The Sultan wore a garment around her breasts to conceal them, but with her top off the garment did nothing to hide the small bumps.  Sultan Joranal was standing in front of the massive bed preparing to bring more food from the food-laden tables when she saw her new consorts face, “well now you have it.  Are you going to come in?”

Halya waddled by heaving and wheezing with the effort but finally lay herself on the bed diving into the platter brought to her by the Sultan without even a word to any of them.  Joranal leaned over her fattest woman and kissed her languidly after the massive woman had swallowed her first mouthful, “you have been delectable, my dear.”

The whole scene was still just too much for Marasha to accept.  It wasn’t such a shock that their evening of entertaining would include eating, and multiple sex partners were common for royalty, but Marasha couldn’t understand how this woman had managed to become what she was.  Finally in a fit of frustration Joranal said, “get over here.  Get some food.  And eat.”

The actual command snapped Marasha out of her stupor.  Before thinking about it she went to the table letting the door close behind her and made a plate of food as large as she could as she thought was expected for her to do.  Turning to the bed she saw Barma removing the garment and letting it finally fall.  Halya let down the Sultan’s trousers and in moments she was naked.  The women still wore their gowns, but it was clear they didn’t deny access to anything.  With the removal of one hook the tops were down and their breasts were fully exposed.

“But, you’re a…” the dumbfounded woman didn’t get to finish.

“Sultan,” Hayla said as if that were what Marasha was about to say, “Joranal is our Sultan and our world.”

Joranal looked over at her with a smile of invitation, “now come over here so I can have my smallest and my fattest at the same time.”  Marasha finally grasped the whole of the situation and walked the few steps to the bed and Joranal smiled coyly at the blond girl finishing up her own plate of treats, “while Barma here fills that little belly of yours for you.  We’ll get you truly fat in no time.”

Joranal let Marasha lie next to Halya so the two were as close at the fat woman could get herself.  The smallest of the girls needed to catch up so the fattest lay her platter-sized plate between them and at first Barma played slave getting the two as much food as she could as fast as she could.  This was something the blond woman enjoyed and did it well feeding the girls as they at first lay on their backs with Joranal fondling them both with her large strong hands.  She nuzzled breasts full and heavy; fondled bellies, one small and jiggling, the other massive and heavy with layers of fat.  She loved fat women of all sizes, all shapes.  She loved seeing a woman grow bigger and fatter with every passing day.  She loved that her unique situation gave her an excuse to give her women more than others would.

Truth was she could have cowered them into submission and force fed them into immobility, but for her this was more fun.  These women were hers to do with as she pleased and they were loyal to her because they could lose it all in an instant if they weren’t.  Finally Marasha’s belly was one giant heaving orb of food and fat and her body tingled with a sexual frenzy she didn’t know was possible.  She began to come over and over again at the play of the Sultan between her legs and Halya’s.  On command both women rolled onto their hands and knees with great difficulty.  Before she was even ready for it she felt Joranal penetrate her and heard the moan of pleasure from Halya.  She heard her own moans of pleasure as she felt fingers pumping away inside her with expert skill.  Out of nowhere she heard soft grunts of pleasure from Joranal as Barma worked her own chubby fingers between the Sultan’s legs and brought her to orgasm with the women on the bed.

After all four woman lay on the bed covered in sweat and sex Joranal lay on her side and looked at Barma, “and now it’s your turn my neglected little fatty.”  Joranal looked at the sex and food drunk women and said, “bring me the food that’s left, you two lazy girls.”  It was said as a rebuke but it was clear the Sultan was happy with them.

Halya was simply too fat to walk back and forth from the bed and to the table so she sat at the edge taking the plates from Marasha who filled them and handed them over to the massive woman.  Halya handed the plates over to Joranal who fed the food to Barma until she couldn’t swallow another bite.  All three woman surrounded the laying one and began to fondle her body.  Marasha was unsure of herself and in the middle of the other two’s play Barma directed the young woman to her delight.

After a third session with the women paring off Joranal with Halya and, and Barma with Marasha the three women slept languidly stuffed and happily sated.  The Sultan made her way back to the palace until the next night.

In the morning Marasha was sure she was fatter.  The dress couldn’t cover her breasts anymore and she was given a green gown made of not much more than two straps of fabric one made a skirt and the other made a harness type top.

They were all bathed by the slaves while they ate in the beds, couches, and chairs.  Each had their bellies oiled, make-up done, and hair washed and set for the day.  Massages were given to those who needed them, and food was brought in every couple of hours.  It became clear to the newest member what was going on.  She knew the purpose of all this was to fatten them up, but to what end?  There was only one way to know and that was to become so fat you could no longer walk to the back room.

Halya now fit into that exulted status.  She knew no more than any of the others except that most nights after she was done with her three women, the Sultan went to that back room for hours sometimes staying until morning.  Now, three slave women came with a mechanized cart to take the woman to the room none had ever seen.

She had grown in the night and after her morning feeding she was barely able to transfer from one bed to the other.  Each woman said her goodbye and Marasha wondered if she’d ever see the woman again.

The weeks passed on like the first day.  The Sultan spent her evening with her women picking three for their evening’s pleasure, but the days were spent feeding and sleeping.  Boredom was held off with gossiping and the women of the Harem’s own little trysts.  Nothing was expected of the women except to eat sleep, and of course have sex and get fat.

However any romances among them were only allowed to go so far.  They couldn’t express love for each other, or do anything past have sex to cement any kind of bond.  And they were required to have sex with others of the group whenever it was asked of them.  Every one of the women enjoyed their special place in their society and they were so utterly spoiled none had any of the sense of responsibility needed to commit to more than casual and shallow sex.

Sultan Joranal had her favorites among the group.  None were forced to gain, they were simply given no chance to lose weight and given massively excessive amounts of food so often they couldn’t help to gain no matter how disinterested they were in the process.  Because of that, some of the women gained faster than others.  Some women like Barma had been there for a long time and though she had gained weight she hadn’t done it all that fast, because she was more interested in enjoying the process of fattening up the others, something the Sultan enjoyed sharing with her.

Marasha was one of those women who found she loved to gorge.  She couldn’t get enough of eating and often wanted to continue stuffing her face long after she had filled up to the point where she literally couldn’t contain any more.  There were many days when she got so completely stuffed that her distended belly actually restricted her breathing.  The slaves knew how to handle such situations well and were able to give her oxygen with the others in the group who were filled so utterly.  Otherwise they would have suffocated to death by the sheer volume of their stomachs.

Because of her love of gaining, the newest member quickly became the Sultan’s favorite woman.  There were roughly thirty women at any given time and so most women could expect to be chosen every couple of weeks.  Marasha found herself going to the back room as many as three times a week and among those harem members who enjoyed helping a woman fatten up she had also become the more favored.  Because of this the once meek woman who had feared even showing she had a need could have any whim either sexual or in food met any time she wished.

The effects on her personality and her body quickly became more than apparent.  The young woman sat in one of the many giant chairs partly reclined, her feet held up slightly by a small stool.  Barma stood beside her happily feeding the young woman while taking from the platter of fares herself.  The young woman had begun to pass Barma in size lately.  Her once small soft tummy had morphed into a large pillow of fat that sagged down in one massive ball, her little navel running deep in the center of the mass.

Barma was stroking the mass smiling at it while feeding yet another square of coated fat, “so nice my dear.”

Marasha waved one softened hand refusing another of the treats, “no more, get me some fried boar will you?”  It was intended as a request, but came out a command.

Barma merely laughed walking over to an unclaimed cart and brought it to the waiting woman, “my, are we demanding today.”

“I get tired of those things.  They’re good, but I want variety.”  She opened her mouth again allowing the greasy breaded meat to be placed into her mouth.

“Well, we wouldn’t want you to get tired of eating,” again she watched the woman gorge seeing her begin to labor in her breathing.  Her massive breasts rose and fell with each breath.  “One thing I love is how big your breasts have gotten as well as that lovely stomach of yours.”

When Marasha was stuffed enough the slaves came by and fitted her with a small tube that fit in one nostril so she could get the oxygen she needed to breathe while she slept off her stuffing and their oiling.

The fat young woman mused as she looked at the doors to the room none of them had been in yet.  She was getting quite fat and in dead she was enjoying herself and all the food and sex, but she wanted in that room.  Every day that she found she could still walk was another day of disappointment.  Every day she grew out of her clothes occasionally ripping them with the sheer speed of gaining she was going through.  She knew now that she could in fact feel herself getting fatter and found it utterly erotic.

Marasha reveled in her time with the Sultan and enjoyed her times with the other women, and found ways to use the process of gaining to bring herself to climax on her own, but it wasn’t until the day she felt her belly slide between her legs as she sat down that she knew for certain she was truly getting close.  Her belly was so massive she now looked like she only wore a top and that was as minimal as it could possibly be.  Her chubby face now actually had its own layers of fat with her fat cheeks filling out to soft jowls and a full double chin that filled out and was developing a third.

When the Sultan asked for her to join it was with the same look she had on her face that first night with Halya, “will I be getting there soon?”  She asked the woman that was her king.

“I know you will be.”  Joranal said smiling and kissing her on the mouth before the woman worked to stand.

It was about seven more days before she finally reached the point the Sultan and her had been waiting for.  It hadn’t been a year yet, but Marasha had gained over 500 pounds.  It was the day after the nightly orgy with Sultan Joranal’s other two favorites, another massive woman who wasn’t very far behind Marasha, and a third woman who was relatively new and not quite as big but gaining fast.  Marasha lay on the bed in the back room sleeping where she had lay the night before not wanting to even try to move after her massive feeding.

She snored loudly as she sprawled out on her side with the giant belly laying beside her.  The massive layers of fat weighed as much as the woman had herself when she had joined the harem.  Finally she felt the hunger that meant it was morning and saw where she was.  She struggled to stand and realized she couldn’t pull herself up.

The young woman heaved and pulled and tried rolling from one side to another and found she couldn’t pull herself to even a seated position.  Just the day before she could stand with difficulty but nevertheless she could stand.  But now she couldn’t even sit.  After her heavy breathing had subsided she called out to the slaves in the other room who were looking for the missing woman.

The slave women frantically pulled the woman up and helped her sit and then stand.  The special bed didn’t fit in the room and she agonized over the ten steps to the door and simply fell onto the waiting bed allowing the slave women to move her into place.  As tortuous and challenging as the move was, she was altogether delighted with herself.  Marasha could now become one of the precious few and go to the back rooms with the other women like her.

The area Marasha was wheeled into was darker than the rest of the home.  She saw a large corridor she was slowly pushed down.  The space smelled of musky sweet incense that permeated the total of the massive hall.  It was much darker than the rest of the home and had a feeling of being closed off from the rest of the world in a way the front area didn’t have.  To her right was a wall decorated in deep shades of maroon and dark red with small smoky lights glowing faintly.  To her left were cubicle-like rooms with woman after woman laying in beds like hers, each one at varying stages of extreme morbid obesity.

The women each had a small tube that ran into their nose through one hole and attached to the wall behind them.  Most women were so incredibly fat they couldn’t even move much more than their pudgy arms.  A few of the women had grown so large additions were placed beside the beds to hold up layers of fat that were spilling over the side.  All the women seemed half dazed and few seemed to know what was going on around them.

“What is this?”  Marasha asked but knew the slaves wouldn’t talk.  They had never spoken one word in all the time she had been at the house of the Harem, but she wanted to know.  In her mind the young woman had imagined great lavish extravagance that made the rest of the house look like the home of a pauper, but the truth seemed to be something quite different.

Finally she passed a room where she thought she recognized one of the women.  It wasn’t anything specific, but something about the massive belly and full cheeks of the woman made her think of Halya, “is that you, Halya?”  As they passed the space she saw the woman’s cheeks move as though she were eating something.  Her eyes were glassy and unfocused as if staring off into someplace so engrossing she couldn’t think of anything else.

Marasha’s blood began to run cold at the sight and even more than before she wondered what was going on.  Finally at an empty cubicle the slave women pulled her into place.  The women left her in the spot and she looked frantic as she realized they were just leaving her in her spot, “but wait!”  She cried, “I’m hungry, I need my food.”

“Oh you’ll get food,” she heard a man’s voice say.  It seemed condescending and mocking her somewhat.  She saw a man in doctor’s clothes looking at her in mild disgust, “but first let’s get you ready for the next part of your life.”  He had a pair of scissors and was cutting off the gown she wore leaving her naked with her massive breasts sliding down to her sides.

“But…”  Marasha just stared in horror at the man.

“Oh shut up,” his utter lack of interest in her fear and need brought more fear to the helpless woman.  “Whatever his reasons, the Sultan likes you this way,” at her look of dismay he smirked, “What, did you forget all of this was happening at the will of the Sultan?  Typical.”  The doctor walked to the wall and brought out a tube, “all of you are the best example of why we keep our women in line.  You think you get to have thoughts.”  He began to shove to tube down her left nostril gagging her as she fought it, “Knock it off or you’ll choke yourself.  All of you want nothing more than to be gorged until you’re nothing but these giant bodies of fat.  His Majesty likes it and that works out, so stop complaining, you got what you want.”

The doctor gave the fat woman a hearty slap on her belly making t wobble from side to side as he walked away, “Well, better go speed up the oldest one here, got to make room for the next.”

At first Marasha called out crying over her situation trying to make sense of it.  But after a while she simply stopped thinking.  The tube in her nose sent a liquid form of the fare to her belly in a continues run of food, filling her up more quickly that the small tube would appear to be able to.  In the pure fat and flour cocktail there was a drug that slowly numbed the mind.  It brought it to its most basic tendencies.

After an hour or so trays of food were brought in to further fill the bellies and give some semblance of nutrition to the women.  Each simply opened their mouths and accepted the food without thinking.  Marasha didn’t saver every bite, she simply opened her mouth and chewed and swallowed, her fat belly growing bigger and bigger with the addition of more calories.

When the Sultan finally came to her back rooms to see her favored women she went straight to Marasha, “ah, yes.”  She smiled on her with delight, “You are going to just grow and grow I can tell.”  Marasha stared off, her brain simply functioning to continue her body’s function.

Sultan Joranal caressed every inch of her newest member of the back room, feeling every inch of her body occasionally slapping the fat and working her way under the layers of stomach to her hidden sex.

Somewhere deep in Marasha’s brain she knew what was going on.  She couldn’t even mentally cry out as her body was brought to orgasm.  All she could do was make the chewing motion as if she were eating and feel the intensity of the sensation.  And then the familiar feel of the Sultan’s kiss, “You’ll be my fattest one yet.”  And Sultan Joranal left her harem of women, smiling and satisfied.

*Ten days later*

Kersa walked into the front doors of the Harem’s house and looked at the women who all languidly finished their first meals of the day.  She was a short woman with little sign of extra weight on her body except a hint of softness around her belly.  She was possibly the thinnest woman ever allowed to join but she was grateful.

Here she knew that at least sometimes she would be able to have sex with other women even if she still had to be with the king more.  Growing fat sounded fun to her since her father had decided if she didn’t make it here she’d be sent to one of the many brothels to bring in money that way.  There was no doubt this was a better alternative.

“Will someone sit this skinny thing down and get her some food?”  A woman said.

“Slaves,” another woman said, “get this girl some real clothes.”

The young redhead smiled at the massively fat blond who lay in one of the bigger beds.  Barma had finally gotten too fat to be one of the feeding girls and had decided to grow enough to join the women in the back.  She often smiled at the notion of seeing her old favorite again.  It amazed her at how much she missed Marasha.

She smiled at the notion of making love to her again only this time with both of them so massively fat.  She called for more fares knowing they would speed up the process.