Undertaker33
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[$10] NSFW Patrons' Prompt: The Goddess of March
🕑 Added 2020-03-29 23:36:29 +0000 UTCThere are tunnels beneath the hills of Easter Island. Entire catacombs that make up a crisscrossed network of chambers and burrows, a veritable hive that had been large enough to hide an entire population.
The humans avoided this place for centuries, with many not even knowing that they existed. Their governments lied to them, telling them that the heads on the island were built by some humans that must have starved themselves out, and turning them into icons for tourists and giftshops.
They kept the truth from them and hid those who dwelled within. The girls who descended from the great March Hare.
When the liminal species began to come out from the shadows, entryways to the tunnels began popping up all over the island, followed by pairs of long ears and excited girlish faces. The Usagimimi, as their tribe was called, were unleashed on the island in veritable droves, just as their jackalope sisters began to leap out of every hole in Arizona.
These were some of the first liminal species that were able to flawlessly integrate into human society, helped along due mostly by appearing as if they were simply girls wearing costumes. Costumes that the humans were predisposed to enjoy.
They wore tight outfits that clung to curvier bodies, along with cute fluffy ears and little cotton tails. Almost all of the Usagimimi looked like this. They had human faces. They had human torsos. Even human legs. Only a few retained the thick, pillow-like legs of their ancestors, covered with soft fluffy fur that matched their hair and their ears. These girls were predisposed to be chubby, rounded and soft, blessed to become a Priestess of March. These marshmallow leaders would guide their clan when the great snake returned to wrap herself around the world and unite all species in an everlasting bond.
The Usagimimi women left their home and their island, spreading to the corners of the globe and becoming a stalwart example to other species on how they could all live together in perfect harmony, leaving only their artificial caretakers to watch over their burrows and wait for their return.
They waited at the entrance. They waited in the tunnels. Rock beneath stone, they waited in silence and darkness, until the magical bond that kept them together began to seep out of their aged bodies.
Over the course of five years, the miniature golems of Easter learned to re-forge, studying the ancient magic of Wonderland from the tomes left behind by the Priestesses of March.
Silence became thought, thought became words, and words became reverence. The golems turned to the tomes for guidance, looked to the walls, and found that they still needed to wait.
Until a descendent returned to unite them with the world above.
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“You sure you wanna go in here, lady?”
Dinah Blanko hopped, twisting on her thick juicy thighs to look at the workman behind the boulder. She tightened the small, locked wooden container to her breasts, nodding enthusiastically. Her peach colored hair shook over her shoulders, her cotton candy legs squishing each other with excitement. “Yup yup! I’ve gotta, it’s where we’re all from!”
“Sure,” the dark man lifted his orange hardhat, scratching at his sweaty bald head beneath, “you, uhhh, Usa-whats-its, yeah?”
“Usagimimi,” Dinah cheerfully corrected. “We’ve been on Easter Island for a long, long time. Way before your governments claimed the island.”
“Yeah, alright,” he puzzled, turning back to the bolder. He tapped on it with his knuckles. “But you’ve been gone a long time too, eh? I haven’t heard of nobody opening these tunnels up.”
“That’s sure to change soon! I’m the first Priestess to graduate since we’ve left!”
The guy turned to her, raising a speculative eyebrow. His eyes were invariably pulled to her showy outfit. “A… priestess…” he mulled the words over, noting the ill-taste they left in his mouth. “Sure… But, ahh, sending a girl all by herself seems… dangerous, don’t it? And, no offense meant, but you’re not dressed for spelunking.”
Dinah bounced tentatively, looking down at her burgundy body suit. It showed off her shoulders and the tops of her breasts in an exceptionally appealing way, the darkness of the red contrasting with her pink fur and pale white skin. A pair of bright bows tied the outfit closed around her hips, the meat of her thighs poking out from above her furry bottom.
She lifted a hand, stroking at her soft chin. “Hmmm, maybe… Oh!” she exclaimed. “My flashlight!”
With hardly a breath, Dinah began quickly hopping away from the entrance and back to the hired man’s truck. She moved faster than any man could, with greater speed than even most Usagimimi, and had returned to the truck with her flashlight in hand and determination on her face.
The handyman scratched his head. “Huh… I’d thought a girl of your… err…” he gestured towards her fat hips, “size, would move a bit slower.”
Dinah giggled, pleased by the man’s eyes on her thighs. She shuffled back and forth, letting him look. “Actually, I’m pretty small for a Priestess of March! The March Hare was way bigger than us.” She lifted her hand and whispered conspiratorially, “Some ladies think she was over five hundred pounds… All that teatime. It’s bad for your tummy.”
She pinched an inch of her belly fat, jiggling it playfully and again snickering when his eyes became wider. He swallowed and looked away before going on. “Well, uhh, I guess you can always run away from anything you find. Alright.” He turned back to the boulder and began to push.
The rock resisted him.
He changed angle, going from the bottom.
“You can do it!” Dinah cheered. “I think it’s starting to shake!”
It wasn’t.
He released his hold and wiped a dribble of sweat off his head. “Christ. What kinda lunatic seals a burrow with rocks?”
“The Priestesses sealed the entrance when we left to keep our home safe,” Dinah explained. “I was only 12 back then, but my Mama- errr… My mother, that is, she said it was to keep stuff safe when we needed to come back.”
“Well, whatcha got in there?”
Dinah lifted a finger and tapped her nose, winking at the man. “You said you wouldn’t ask questions,” she reminded him.
“Ah… yeah,” he nodded. “Sorry. You liminals got more goin on than I’ll ever understand.”
Dinah grinned innocently. “You ever heard of magic, mister?”
"You mean... Like, when they pull a rabbit out of a hat?"
The girl began to snicker, covering her mouth but unable to hide the teasing in her bright eyes.
Eventually, after much sweat and toil, the door was opened, and the passage revealed. Something about it felt… off. Like darkness was flowing out of the tunnel rather than light flowing in. When Dinah flicked on her flashlight, the abyss retreated into itself, pulling away from the light of the newly blessed Priestess.
“So,” the man dusted his hands on his denim overalls. “I know I ain’t allowed in, but you want me to hang around? Somebody’s gonna need to put that boulder back.”
“That’d be best, yes,” she bowed respectfully.
“Alright, cool. I’ll probably hop over to… hell, I’ve no idea what’s even over here. I think there’s an empanada joint. You want I should bring you something too?”
“That sounds perfect,” Dinah cooed, patting her soft stomach.
The bunny-girl gave the man a large grin, one that he returned with a nod and a thumbs up before returning to his truck and heading off to town.
She spun about on her large pink feet, entering the tunnel for the first time in nearly ten years.
It was even warmer in the tunnels than the tropical Pacific weather outside. Oddly moist considering the dry heat… indeed, as she wobbled down the tunnel on her thick thighs, she noticed that there were marks of seeping wetness that decorated the lumpy looking walls. It was lucky that most of the floor was intact.
She tried to remember the burrow as it had been. Tiny balls of fire decorated the tunnels, hanging above torches but never burning the wood. The will of the Priestess’ kept their home bright.
Without them, it seemed almost sad.
Dinah rounded the first corner in the network maze, her flashlight guiding her path. A gentle slope brought her down, down, towards the belly of the Earth and towards the waiting hands of stone.
As she walked, Dinah flicked open the catches on her small lockbox. The empty velvet interior looked back up at her, along with the sharp divot that would be the resting place of her porcelain wand.
“Alright, Dinah,” she spoke to herself, listening to her voice echo down, down, down the deep halls. “You’re almost there. Once you reach the church, you just have to find the March Hare’s tea set, and the wand will be waiting. Easy peazy lemon squeezy.”
The wooden container snapped shut.
“I wonder if there’ll be time for tea…”
From the chest of her bodysuit, Dinah pulled out a folded-up piece of paper. It was lightly wet from her boob sweat, causing the girl to hold it out at arm’s length and flick out her tongue in displeasure.
Another droplet tumbled over her left eye, and she wiped it away. “Ugh,” she muttered to herself, bouncing on her legs and jiggling her thighs. “Stupid island. No wonder nobody’s come back, it’s so flopping HOT!!”
This last word echoed much more loudly than the rest, bouncing off the irregular rock.
She unfolded the map, taking the flashlight between her teeth and looking it over. She’d already memorized the route she needed to take to reach the underground church, but looking it over again reassured her timid nature. Dinah plopped down on her fluffy rear, putting her back to the rolling stone of the walls.
She’d been walking for maybe fifteen minutes now. That was, what, a mile? Considering the entrance she’d taken, if she’d been following the turns correctly then she’d be passing by chamber number four, one of the underground storerooms where the clan had kept their kitchens.
“The first thing we’re doing when I find that wand is a darn cold spell. The second…” her tummy rumbled hungrily, eliciting a sad sigh. “Probably some dessert. Ugh, I should have brought my cinnamon buns…”
Dinah let her head rock back, striking against the soaking wet wall.
A spark of untended magic rushed out of her head like a bolt of electricity. It lit up the entire chamber for only a second, but the strike was loud enough to send her sprawling onto her tummy with her ears pinned to her head. She twisted, staring with wide eyes at the scorch marks she’d left.
The walls weren’t dripping with water. The Priestess’s senses were dulled without a wand, but now she could feel the deep connection. Magic was gushing from the walls of the ruins. “What in the world…”
Something shifted beneath her, and it wasn’t her rumbling tummy. She felt it in the fleshiest parts of her bottom. It stopped as soon as it had begun, a deep vibration in the stone tiles. She recoiled from the wall, crawling on her butt away from the spark.
An odd sensation crawled down her spine. There was nothing there, but she could feel the nothingness watching her, staring at her.
“H-hello?” she asked the empty stone walls. Her long, pink ear flicked tentatively, her nervous nature telling her to rabbit away. She found her feet, moving towards the center of the hall.
There wasn’t anything down here. There couldn’t be anything down here, it would have starved itself out.
“Is anyone there?” she asked the darkness.
Nothing responded until Dinah twisted to look back around.
A pair of soulless gray eyes was watching her from the wall. They winked out as soon as she screamed, pointing the light directly at them. There was nothing there except the sickly sweating stone.
Dinah twisted, catching another pair of eyes, then another, each a part of the walls. The rumbling began the moment she skipped forward, and the first of the golems pulled itself free.
Dinah’s foot hit the tile below, twirling and sending her rocketing down the passage like a fat whirlwind. All around her the walls were waking up.
She raced past, bunching the map up into her fist. She’d lost her case along the way, racing deeper, farther into the tunnels. The church, if she could make it to the church and find her wand, then she could open up a-
The thought stopped before it could finish, when her face impacted on a ginormous rocky arm. The magic inside of her reacted, blasting the rock to bits even as she was launched onto her ass and the world spun into darkness.
******************************************************************************
Dinah awoke, coughing heavily as dead air poured into her lungs. Her arms were forced out to either side of her body, her bunny legs trapped beneath an unmoving weight.
She remembered the golems, remembered the pain on her face. That wasn’t right, not right at all.
Dinah had forgotten all about the miniature caretakers. A golem was supposed to come up to her knee, not tower over the tunnel. It wasn’t…
“You breathe,” a voice that sounded like wind whispering through rocks mashing together said.
It wasn’t supposed to talk.
Dinah tried to sit up, couldn’t.
She tried to look around, pointless.
The only sort of illumination in the room was two gray pinpoints of light, a golem watching her struggle against the dark.
“Y-you can talk?” Dinah asked.
“We speak. We have waited.”
Dinah tried to move her arms again, staring at the gray. “L-let me go!” she tried to infuse her voice with command. “You have to let me go!”
Even as she said it, she could feel the magic inside of her bubbling uselessly, unable to escape. Without a conduit, without her wand, Dinah was an overfed battery without any release.
“We have waited. You have arrived. We still wait.”
She swallowed. “Wait for what?”
“Resurrection,” the golem growled.
A brilliant flame of orange light whispered into existence. Dinah winced, not ready for the sudden brightness. When she opened her eyes, she saw several other lights were forming, placing themselves over unburning torches.
The church was frighteningly immaculate in the soft glow of the magical radiance. It looked completely untouched in the near decade of absence, save for the multitude of small golem bodies that filled the stone pews.
Dinah twisted, looking at her body. Her arms and feet were held tight under smooth concrete, stone bindings that looked as if they’d grown up from the altar to pin her on the smooth, cold surface.
She was nude. Shockingly, openly, bare against the flat of the stone. Her small, soft belly did little to hide the nudity of her legs, her overweight breasts pulling down towards either side of her chest. The nipples on her chest were puckered inward, and it took her a moment to realize how cold the room was.
It was then that Dinah realized the weight of her issue.
Dinah strained to look back at the golem and saw, hanging over his head and engraved into the wall, an ancient depiction of the March Hare. Her large rabbit ears were held high in divinity, a brightness of gold emanating power from behind her head. She carried her weight differently than Dinah, most of it centered in her huge stomach as opposed to Dinah’s succulent thighs, but the resemblance of her face was uncanny, as were the emeralds that each girl held in their eyes.
The large golem spread its arms, magical energy sweating from the heated stone. “March almost returned. All golems will follow. All golems will be free.”
“W-what?!” Dinah strained, trying futilely to snap the stone over her wrist. “I’m not the March Hare!”
“No.”
The golem moved its right arm, and Dinah saw with absolute shock the object she’d come for. It held a fragile porcelain wand between huge stony fingers, waving it sloppily and forcing its will through the conduit.
The wand responded, glowing brightly before the church doors clapped open, and a formation of tiny golems marched down the line.
Two at a time, they carried large stone boxes, stamping on stony feet until they reached the base of the altar. Each golem stepped to the side, placing the boxes into a long empty row. Dozens of boxes, hundreds of golems, all waited beneath Dinah’s confused stare, and the magical warmth of the golem magician that stood over her.
“What hunger?” the golem asked.
Dinah blinked at it. “W-what?”
“What hunger?” it repeated.
Dinah looked from the construct up to the March Hare above. With a pressure like a stone settling into her stomach, she thought she understood.
“No, no way, nuh uh!” she shook her head ferociously. “I’m not the March Hare, you idiot!”
“No,” the golem reached forward a stony hand, laying it upon the altar. It lifted the wand and pressed the tip to Dinah’s forehead. “Not yet,” the wind whispered.
The wand glowed and Dinah could feel the magic washing over her, pulling out from her. The golem drew back and pointed the wand at the first crate, filling it suddenly with a heap of cinnamon buns.
“Feast,” it commanded.
The small golems took up the box and moved over to Dinah’s head.
“Y-you freaks!” she shouted, writing nakedly on the table. “You can’t do this, I am a Priestess of Ma- Unghf!”
A cinnamon bun the size of a fist was shoved into her face. It was still steaming hot, the frosting dribbling down over her cheeks and her chin. The golem didn’t wait for her to bite, nor did they give her a chance to spit it back out. Another hand descended over her face, pushing the next hot doughy pastry into her mouth.
Dinah forced herself to swallow. She started to choke from the bite, but a poke of the porcelain wand caused the energy of life to push the food through, landing in her empty stomach with an almost audible plop.
“You can’t MMFGH!” Dinah screamed as another bun was forced into her face.
The golem at the altar tapped the wand on her tummy. “March almost returned,” it said robotically.
Her belly gurgled suddenly, and Dinah was able to swallow the next mouthful as if her mouth had become a vacuum. She could feel the wide bite sliding down easily, quickly joining the swelling mass and giving her a moment to breath between the next. That one went even quicker, with her hardly even tasting it.
Her face was already covered in vanilla and cinnamon, flecks of gooey dough marking her cheeks and falling into her bright hair. The two golems packed her with fistfuls of food, entire pastries vanishing in single chomps until Dinah was mashing her teeth over empty air. The two golems retreated, leaving her to gasp for breath and feel the stones in her belly.
“Wh-what are you doing to me?!” she demanded.
“Becoming March,” the golem replied, tapping the wand against her forehead again.
She spun to saw the next pair advancing with another fresh load of cinnamon buns.
Another jolt of magic escaped from her belly. Abruptly famished, disturbingly hungry, her stomach rumbled with enough force to shake the stone altar. Her eyes shifted to a vanilla glaze as another helping of frosting and dough were pushed into her mouth.
Dinah’s legs were already packed with fat, her ass as juicy as a fresh and soft peach. They swelled more with every fresh bite, until the restraints began digging into fat bunny cankles, the fluff on her bottom as soft as her fur.
Another crate vanished into the void of her mouth, leaving Dinah even messier than the first. Now she was moaning, not out of discomfort but rather for want.
“More,” she demanded, and the golems obeyed.
She wasn’t sure when the food began changing. It switched from cinnamon buns, to doughnuts, to toasted marshmallows. It became muffins and cakes, and Dinah’s fat tummy began to roll over her hips. Her arms laid relaxed, her legs didn’t kick, but her tummy swelled and gurgled and mashed with ferocious speed.
Packed with frosting, Dinah the doughball wanted for more. Needed more.
The food was doing something to her. More than making her fat, it was making her whole. Her belly was inching out, sliding over her sex until it was sagging between her restrained thighs. She rocked against herself, felt the bite of pleasure with another filling chomp on frosting.
The food brought her up, up, reaching a mountain of calories with a sharp sugar high. Her belly rumbled and shook fiercely, the movement bringing her closer to climax, before she slammed into a solid stuffed wall.
The magic sweated out of her, leaving her filthy and wet, her belly stuffed to the point of near bursting. She could hardly move, hardly think, couldn’t see past the next offered slice. Her belly loosed a quivering shake, the mass rolling over her like the weight of a globe.
“Unnngh,” she twisted away from the fist of chocolatey cake. “S-stop…” she mumbled through stained lips and heavy cheeks. She felt filthy, felt vile, and glared openly at her barely recognizable body. “I-I can’t,” she shook her head. “N-no more.”
The golem behind her lifted the wand and tapped it against her swollen stomach. “March comes,” it said coldly, its voice lost to Dinah as all she knew was replaced by voracious hunger.
Another crate, then another, and Dinah puffed up like a baking marshmallow. Her fatty stomach lifted far above her still swelling chest, her hips pushing out to fill either side of the stone, demanding to be seen.
Her thighs pressed her underbelly up, forcing it out to make room for her legs. Another gyration and her numbed mind shook with ecstasy. Through a mouth filled with dough, Dinah spluttered to moan.
Her senses came back to her as the pain in her stomach redoubled, stretched beyond her pure comprehension. One of the serving golems lowered its stony fists, crushing the entirety of a cake beneath its grip. Dinah leaned back, trying to catch her breath, trying to regain her wits. Magic, it was using her magic, drawing it from her.
She tore her eyes from her servers and saw the golem approaching.
Her wand, her magic.
Impulse grabbed her by her rolling love handles.
As the golem brought the wand down on her belly, Dinah let out a shriek. “Porta!”
The magic flowed out of her, pushing through the wand and overwhelming the creature’s small willpower. The altar beneath her fat ass vanished, and Dinah felt herself begin to fall before her wrists and ankles caught on their cuffs. The weight of her body snapped the stone prison free, and Dinah descended through the gasping portal.
The gargantuan fist of the golem reached after her, catching her around the middle. Dinah screamed, the fingers spreading intense pain over her stuffed belly before the portal snapped shut and severed the stone.
Dinah collapsed on top of a solid brick floor, the aged stone fist crumbling into rubble then dust as the magic gushed out of it and soaked her hot skin. She lay there, panting, gasping for breath, hardly hearing the panicked shouts from around her.
She tried to wrap her hands over herself but couldn’t even reach down to her bellybutton. Her fingers massaged her aching stomach, finding she was as tight as a drum.
“Uuuuugggggh,” she rolled back, blinking heavily under the bright light of the sun. Someone was standing over her. A man wearing a top hat bowed vividly while other people gasped and applauded. He gestured to Dinah with a small little stick.
Dinah reached over her stuffed stomach. She dusted the pebbles off of her hanging boobs before coming up with a fine porcelain wand, and felt it glimmer joyfully as her magic poured in.
She pointed the wand at herself, mind slowed like honey. “Di… Digestivus,” she muttered before her body exploded with another ten pounds slamming onto her frame and she released a loud, satisfied burp.
Her belly didn’t hurt so much anymore, but exhaustion now filled every roll of Dinah’s immensity. She could feel the grime on her face, the frosting that covered her cheeks and her fatty chin. She lay there, trying to breath and nearly smothered by her weight when she recognized a voice.
“Senorita!” came a man’s gasp. A rapid string of Spanish rebounded off Dinah like a slap against jelly. She was hardly able to turn.
When she did, her belly slapped wetly before spreading out onto the stage’s floor.
The workman from earlier appeared at her side. He muttered something else that she didn’t understand before going to the man with the stick and drawing several lines of colorful cloth out of his sleeve.
He flipped the cloth and tried to cover Dinah with it, but it was like trying to cover a mattress with napkins. He vanished before a loud crash of glass sounded and he returned with a tablecloth, wrapping it over her.
“What has happened to you? God of mine, what has been done?”
Dinah tried to speak. She could hardly recognize husky voice that came out.
“T-the entrance,” she rasped through layers of frosting. “Seal the entrance. Hurry.”
The man gaped at her before turning around. He shouted something to another person, but Dinah rocked back onto the pillows of her ass. Above her, a colorful sign read ‘El Magnifico Marcus!’
The workman was standing over her now, along with an elderly woman, who carried a large bag with several Styrofoam containers.
Then, slowly, the scent of Spanish food crept into her system. It twisted around her nose, a warm, inviting scent that pressed down into her belly before filling out every last curve.
She rumbled, hungrily.
