Story 📜 The Queen's Heir - Part II

C: NS4W, Original, pregnancy, fantasy, preg potions, wlw, stuffing, sounds, weight gain (mentioning), belly movements, sexual awakening

C: NS4W, Original, pregnancy, fantasy, preg potions, wlw, stuffing, sounds, weight gain (mentioning), belly movements, sexual awakening, slight corruption
Planned: accelerated pregnancy, more corruption, birth

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Story written by RoseVirage

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The Queen's Heir - Part II

(Find part I here)

At first, nothing happened. Onwrin tried to heighten her senses: feeling, listening, tasting, smelling. Seeing if something around or inside her would change. But the only thing different was the metallic aftertaste in her mouth.

She already wanted to grab the second bottle, but Natascha's worried eyes reminded her to wait. Right… those strange 20 draws of breath. 

Well, that shouldn’t be an issue, should it? She was probably about 10 in, maybe 15.

As Onwrin focused on her breath, she started to feel a little dizzy. Not immensely, but enough to notice. And then it happened: something inside her caused the strangest sensation. It felt like how a click would sound. The tiniest nudge of a pop. Like the head of a pin fell on a stone floor, right in her abdomen.

Before the queen could question whether the feeling was due to indigestion of the strange potion, she began feeling hot and even more dizzy.

“Her Majesty?” Onwrin heard her maid call out, but it sounded far away. Both in approximation and emotion. Natascha wasn’t important right now, no. To stay conscious was, to fight the overcoming sensations.

The feeling in her lower middle grew slightly stronger; it felt like something was pulling on her muscles from the inside. As she looked down she noticed that her hips pushed forward to the edge of the seat and her legs were spread apart in a quite lewd-looking fashion. By the stars! When did she—

Another strange pull from the inside, making her belly and pelvis contracting. Hard. Onwrin moaned upon this sensation. A noise caused mostly by confusion and endeavor—but also by something else. Something way more daunting. Way more forbidden. Lust. The queen could only witness helplessly how her entrance contracted, too, clenching needingly around nothing, getting wetter and wetter, until the inevitable happened. Another deep moan escaped her mouth as she arched her back and clutched her fingers around the armrests. Her body climaxed in a way she didn’t know was possible. Every part of her body tensed in pure lust. It was as if the orgasm was more than that. A transformation into a new version of her. A separation from her life as a royal and into… into what? 

Onwrin didn’t know, and she didn’t care. She was nothing but this feeling, and even if she would’ve wanted to stop, she wouldn’t have been able to.

So she surrendered fully to that feeling, let it take over her mind and body and eventually her eyesight and hearing, as everything went dark and dull.

---

When the former princess opened her eyes again, she saw a beautiful star pattern upon dark blue velvet. It took her a moment to realize that it was the baldachin of the canopy bed. 

She gasped, and the flushed face of her maid came into view as she leaned over her.

“What… what happened…?” Onwrin asked, still feeling out of breath.

“Milady fainted,” Natascha answered, sparing with descriptions, “Our host aided me in lifting you to bed.”

The queen’s face went hot in shame. Not only because of her helpless state and the trouble she has caused, but because she remembered what had happened before the world went black. Had she been loud? Had it been obvious? How much had Natascha actually witnessed? Maybe it had just looked like a mere spasm to her?

Onwrin looked at the girl, but her averted gaze and flushed cheeks told her the shameful truth.

Her maid knew.

And for some reason, this excited Onwrin just as much as it embarrassed her. 

“I…uh, I’m sorry for having inconvenienced you. And our host, of course. Is she still here…?”

“No, your majesty.”

“How did she seem to you…? Has she been any different?”

“No, your majesty. She also didn’t seem surprised at all. If I might be so bold… to me it seemed as if she had been expecting this… outcome.”

“You shouldn’t talk this way about our host,” Onwrin scolded her, albeit gently, “but… I’d be lying if I said I’d be surprised.”

A demanding feeling tensed through her torso, accompanied by a noise most savage. It took Onwrin a moment to understand that the deep, wild growl didn’t erupt from a potential nearby animal but her own body: she was hungry. But not just hungry, as she had experienced it many times before. Instead, she felt it in an intensity she had never been confronted with; she felt like she was actually starving.

Blush of embarrassment crawled into her cheek’s delicate skin. Her stomach had never made such intense noises before.

Natscha had clearly noticed it, too, because she looked at Onwrin’s middle. “I-I’m sorry, milady, she said that this would happen. I should’ve offered you dinner right away.”

With that, the maid got up and walked over to the table.

“She…? What exactly did she—” Onwrin began as she got herself up, too, but the mountain of interestingly prepared dishes on the table stuck the words in her throat. The table was now set with what appeared to be a feast for several guests. None of the plates were particularly gallant and more of simple but unique, rural beauty, and they all smelled heavenly. 

“I’m not sure what any of these are, to be honest, milady… The meat might be of wild nature. But I tested all of them, and none showed signs of poison or foulness.”

What a sweet girl. Food tasting was a dangerous job and not her duty at all, but she had done it without demand.

“Thank you, Natascha. I appreciate it,” Onwrin answered as she sat down on the chair again—the very same damed chair that had been witness to her obscene escapade—trying her very best to not eat like a ravenous wild animal, like her body commanded her to.

It wasn’t easy.

Once the tender, almost buttery meat, impaled by her fork, had touched her lips, Onwrin was overcome by almost addiction-like cravings for it. This must’ve been the best thing she had ever eaten. But then she tried a savory pudding-like green dish, and it was even better. 

Soon, Onwrin couldn’t hold back from trying every dish, her body trembling from excitement over the flavors and nourishment. And there was plenty of nourishment in these dishes—fat, starch, oil, things Onwrin knew to lie heavy in her stomach till they finally were properly digested.

When her mouth got dry, she reached for the only drink on the table: a brownish-greenish brew, tasting like a cold tea, brewed from fresh, healthy herbs, and with a delightful minty taste. Not only did it quench her thirst, but it also relaxed her stomach so that she felt like she could indulge in even more food.

Unnoticed by Onwrin, who was fully focused on taking in as much food and drink as possible, Natascha watched her, standing only some few feet away, with concern. Her mistress has long passed the threshold of her usual lunch portions; by now, even the ones of strong knights. And she still didn’t slow down. Natascha’s hands tingled, and she felt like she should intervene; but at the same time she thought about what the witch had told her. To let her queen do anything to her heart’s desire, and she had pointed out that she truly meant ‘anything’. That her queen would need it. 

So Natascha just… watched. Watched how plate after plate started to empty, listened to the gulps and chews of her queen, and her belly rumbles switching from long, more empty, hungry tones to short, less hollow-sounding ones that almost seemed angry and overpowered. Witnessed how her queen’s loose and comfortable dress got tighter and tighter, the fabric starting to slowly stretch in the front, and the lacing on the sides of her dress slowly becoming less of a simple decoration and more of an actual lacing, further emphasizing how the queen’s middle was starting to round out.

Natascha tried to control her breathing, which had become some sort of panting by now. This whole ordeal scared her… greatly, even. She was worried about her queen, worried about what sort of deal she had gotten herself into with this unearthly witch. Concerned about her body.

But at the same time… seeing a woman eating like this, no, furthermore specifically seeing her queen eating like this, like a man, a knight, with no care for how it might make her look… with this unroyal passion and joy. She seemed so free and beautiful in this liberation. So strong. More like her true self. And Natscha really liked that.

Eventually, Onwrin was done. As she gulped down one last chalice of the herb water, she noticed that it was impossible to force even more inside her stomach. Only with this did she stop and seem to finally realize what had happened. She immediately started to moan upon the painful pressure inside her gut, arching her back and clutching her middle. She gasped when her hands touched it; it was hard and… protruding. And not just a little. “By the gods,” Onwrin moaned while holding her belly and writhing in her chair, “I really have overdone it…”

Seeing Onwrin witness her self-grown belly for the first time like that made Natscha gasp. It looked… nice, the hands of her queen feeling up that curve that he just had eaten into existence. 

It took her a moment to follow her duties.

“U-uh… m-my queen, should I bring a vessel for you to… relieve yourself again…?”

“No!” Onwrin shouted, then followed up a bit more sheepishly: “No, sorry. It’s okay. It’s just… I feel like I need this.”

A chill ran down Natscha’s spine. Of fear and admiration. Her queen was changing in some way. And not just visually.

“I understand, my queen,” Natscha answered while watching her lean back, eyes closed, sweat drops forming on her forehead, while she was rubbing her belly up and down, obviously trying to soothe it. It looked almost ravishing. And her dress looked… really tight.

The queen could only take shallow breaths; even her lungs seemed to be afflicted by the masses in her stomach. And every few moments, she stopped, clutching her belly and tensing up, maybe holding back unladylike sounds, like belching. Her poor mistress… holding them back must hurt and not relieve her of the pressure inside her at all.

After some moments of adjusting had passed and Onwrin finally seemed to have calmed down a little, Natscha asked, “Your Highness, could I ask milady to get up so I can adjust the lacing for her comfort?

Onwrin seemed weak. She did not answer nor protest but instead simply got up—but not without groaning upon the endeavor. A sound that did more to Natascha than she was willing to admit even to herself.

As she was standing there, her middle was even more prominent. The curve looked rather high—right beneath her small bosom and over where her belly button might be—and even without feeling it, it was clear that it was hard to the touch and heavy. 

Onwrin looked down on herself and gasped, too. “A… a mirror, please,” she commanded with a shaky voice.

Natscha nodded and looked around, quickly finding a full-body standing mirror in one of the corners and bringing it right next to the table.

“By the gods, stars, and everything inbetween…” Onwrin whispered while looking at herself. She had never seen herself like that. She looked wrong and right at the same time, shameful and sovereignly, both like a weak animal, fed to reproduce, and a powerful divine emperor. How could all these feelings exist at the same time, with the same intensity? 

She turned to the side, looking at the lacing of the dress. What was once a slit crafted not for utility, but as a quirk of fashion, was now holding the roundness of her belly in place. The openings reminded of the shape of a lemon: tight at first, then stretching far apart, only to get tighter right below her belly again. The loose white undergarment was visible, and the leathery laces clung hard onto the metal-edged openings of her dress’ expensive fabric. It was literally holding her belly in place, accenting her roundness from top to bottom.

Natascha came closer and started to unravel the leather straps on the bottom of the lacing, when Onwrin said: “Wait.”

“My queen…?”

“I want you to talk to me first, Natascha. Do I look like a vulgar glutton?”

The maid faltered, “M-my queen, that’s not—”

“I want… no, I need you to be honest now, Natascha. Never mind the white lies. Please answer straight.”

The maid hesitated for a moment. Then, while averting her gaze, she said, “You do look a little vulgar like this, milady.”

Hearing this created a different reaction inside Onwrin than she would’ve expected before she had entered this house; It made her entrance clench again.

Why? This was beyond shameful. But…

“It’s shameful, right?” Onwrin went on.

Natascha, still looking away, said, “It is… but… at the same time, it isn’t. I don’t mind, my queen.”

When Natascha looked up to her queen again, she at first saw the blush on her cheeks and then noticed how something was poking up from under her dress. Her hardened peaks of her queen’s bosom.

Was this—

Did… did her queen—

What was going on?

“Then we… seem to feel alike, my dearest,” Onwrin said with slow, breathless words, while looking in the mirror again and rubbing over her belly.

A loud gurgle emitted muffled from under skin and fabric, and the queen moaned. 

“Are you okay, my queen?”

“Yes, yes—” Onwrin quickly said and made a gesture of refusal, “It’s just… I can feel the food shifting. It’s intense. Please… excuse these obscene noises.”

The way her queen let those words roll off her tongue… it sounded… it sounded more like she enjoyed saying them than actually being apologetic. Hearing this, seeing her queen blush and parts of her body… stiffened like this, made Natascha do something, she had never done before:

She used degrading language, unprompted even.

“Yes, milady… These noises are indeed obscene.”

The queen gasped and looked at her maid again, her face now even redder, her lips slightly parted under panting breaths.

“I’m… I’m not sure you hear them properly from where you’re standing. Come… closer, maid.”

Natascha’s heart started to pound faster, and she shuffled a little closer.

“Even closer. Feel the shameful thing that I have done. Touch it. Rub it gently, soothe it.”

And so Natascha did. She put her hands on the protruding middle, tightly wrapped up in exquisite fabric. It was so hard, so round, and so noisy.

She could hear her mistress moan silently as she started to rub over the curve.

Then, Natscha heard a guttural, angry gurgle right next to her ear. It really was loud. Embarrassingly loud. If something like this were to happen to Natascha in front of any witness, she would excuse herself until things were better. Probably longer than that.

The groan made both the queen and her maid gasp.

“Ahh… oof…. it hurts… I can feel something shifting inside me… and squirming, like little bubbles. It must be the food. How embarrassing…” Onwrin whispered, unsure why she felt the need to share this intimate, rather vulgar information.

“Your body can clearly not handle so much food… you overdid it, my queen… you overate, like a glutton… soon the rest of your body will adjust to this massive overeating…”

The more Natascha talked, the more intense Onwrin’s panting got.

“Tell… tell me more, my dear.”

Natascha slid her hands under Onwrin's belly—because her belly now had an underside, by the gods—and slightly pushed upwards. It made the queen moan, unclear if in pain or relief.

“Your body will become soft. Your thighs, your behind, your bosom, your cheeks… it will all expand, if you keep at this, my queen. And we don’t want that now, do we…?”

Onwrin now panted heavily. “No… No, I don’t think so… right?”

Another deep rumble shook Onwrin’s belly—this time, Natascha could even feel it under her hands.

The queen moaned and clutched her middle again, then her body convulsed as she seemed to hold back another belch.

“I… I need to lie down. Guide me to the bed and undress me, Natascha.”

And so the maid did. When she opened the leather laces the almost exploded open, and the Queen made a long, deep noise of relief. Then Natascha took off the overdress, only leaving the demi-long white underdress and long underskirt, both made from slight see-through, wide fabrics.

“Can you rub my middle, while I try to sleep? It might ease the pain…” Onwrin asked.

Natascha’s heart started pounding again; she was very excited to follow up this request.

She took the oil from the night stand and dripped it in her hands. It was warm to the touch, and incredibly soothing.

“Where do you have this from…?” Onwrin asked.

“Our host has left it for you.”

Onwrin groaned and bit on her lip. What else has this witch done when she was passed out?
Also she had anticipated this outcome. This knowledge was both relieving and disturbing.

The queen rolled up her upper dress, setting her middle free, trying not to look at it out of shame.

But when Natascha’s oiled hands embraced the hard mass, she let out a moan of relief. 

“Are you alright, milady?”

“Yes… yes. This feels heavenly. Please, do not stop.”

Natascha smiled and continued. At first just to please her queen, but she slowly developed a personal liking for the sensation, too. She watched her highness relax more and more, her moanings slowly turning into sleepy pants, and wondered whether the queen even noticed how her hands were clutching the sheets beneath her, and how her legs slowly opened up a little, making her look delicious, as if she was ready to embrace a lover, even though she was almost asleep at this point. 

Natascha could even smell her. Down there. Smell that she must be exceptionally wet. A scent that was making it very hard to keep a clean mind.

And all the way, she listened to the glorps, gurgles, and groans of her body—sounds that were a clear sign to Natascha that something inside her queen was changing. And she couldn’t help but find it fascinating.