chapter 1 - the challenge

All finance was measured by the cord. All deals done by it, all business procured by it, and all merchandise judged by it. At least, in his line of business. Funny really, when you thought about it, how everything hinged on a single solid magical fiber, but who was he to question it? They’d been doing things this way for hundreds of years, and they’d probably continue doing them long after his death. No. It wasn’t something to waste time thinking on. The only thing he needed to concern himself with at the moment was getting that cord to stretch as far as possible.

Or better yet….break it.

That wasn’t going to happen with this one, though. She wasn’t quite determined enough. There was still that tint of wildness in her that domestication hadn’t quite squelched. A bit too strong-willed to fully let herself go and embrace the situation. He’d known it at the start, of course. He’d known it the minute she stepped up on the auction block nearly a year ago. The slight, playful grin on her lips. The way she’d put all her weight on her left leg causing one scrawny hip to jut out. Posture of defiance. Everything about her had said challenge, but nothing spoke louder than the wooden hoop hanging from her right elongated ear. She’d been marked! Someone had tried and obviously failed with her before. That was a rarity with elves, especially nowadays, when the art was so refined. He’d expect that much with a female Orc or Dragoness, but not an elf. This was something special. Something different. This was a challenge.

As expected, she had fetched little on the block. A few bids here and there, but he didn’t have to shell out. At this point she was a cast-off, and the owner was only hoping to recover a fraction of what he had initially invested. He was glad to give it. The guards brought her out, dressed in the same rags she’d worn onstage. Stitched hide that barely covered her. She was small. Thin and lithe, with pale skin and enormous eyes that spoke of nothing but contempt. Her cord tightly encircled her neck, running down her back before looping back around to encircle her bare stomach. A black line on her white skin. She grunted as they threw her at his feet. The small elf met his eyes and attempted to talk. Her mouth and tongue moved, but no words came out. She hadn’t yet earned that right of the cord. She knew this. They all knew this, but she still made the effort before spitting at his feet. He couldn’t help but smile. She was going to be an absolute thrill.

His time with her was almost done now. He casually placed the third platter on the table in front of her. A meaty roast with some potatoes and watched as she dug in. She wasn’t scrawny anymore. Far from it. He watched as she wiggled her fattened rump in her seat as she chewed, eyes closed, blissfully savoring the flavors. One hand rubbing the outer curve of her tight belly while the other shoved more dripping roast into it. She made small sighs as she ate, punctuated with quick, raw burps. He saw the desert he’d placed on the table earlier had already been eaten. He’d meant for it to be last, but knew this one loved her sweets, and the more he could get packed into her the better. Her eating slowed as she neared the halfway mark. Her breaths came in short, gulped gasps of pleasure, pain, and disbelief. Her eyes went from the plate to him and back again. Contempt was still there. Slightly obscured under a bovine laziness, but still there.

“Full. Done.” She whispered. Her words had an almost lyrical quality to them.

He stood and circled around behind her. Looking down, he could see her fattened tits threatening to pop out of the top he had bought for her. She had become very top heavy. A rarity for an elf. They were only eclipsed by her belly. It pushed up against the edge of the table now. A single smudge of gravy was on the upper curve of its dome, having fallen from the fork on one of the many trips to her mouth. He pulled her wooden chair back, listening to the wood scrape on the stone floor. Her pale belly fell forward and expanded quickly to fill the newfound space before resting on her mid thighs. Each gasping breath, coming faster and faster now, barely caused it to move, let alone lift from where it lay stuffed full and tight. The faint red lines he had noticed months ago were now prominent and multiplied, evidence of the many binges and stuffings of the past year. A few stretch marks were now showing just below the elf’s belly button.

“Full.” She spoke again as she licked the traces of gravy from her fork.

He prodded her belly, lifted it, and let it gently fall. He took pleasure in hearing her discomfort. Her grunts and pained hiccups. He pressed in above her belly button and smiled as he felt quick resistance followed by a low burp from her. She was tight, but there was still room. There was almost always a bit more room. The black cord still encircled her globular gut. It stretched as she grew. This one had had quite a workout. Starting from nearly nothing, it now was creaking with the strain of containing her engorged girth. Four large red lines could now be seen on the cord just below her belly button. He’d gotten his little challenge up to a four. Not bad. He’d done better, but not badly at all. He slapped the outer curve of her stuffed pot and rose, his eyes met hers.

“Finish your dinner.” There was no give in his voice. No room for wiggling. It was a simple command, and she knew it. They had already been through this. Many times. She would finish the plate or he would force here too.

She made a feeble attempted to stand, but quickly changed her mind when she spread her legs and felt the weight of her belly drop without the support. She whimpered and began bringing large forkfuls of roast to her lips. Another drop of gravy dripped on her overfed belly and still another on her fat tits. She moaned as she forced more roast into her. He circled back around behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. Her belly seemed to expand with each bite. By the time she had finished the entire platter, her belly was once again just barely touching the underside of the table. She leaned back and belched. Both hands finding purchase on her tight, stuffed belly. Gravy was smeared around her mouth, and the only sounds beside her pained moans were the low groans of her overstuffed midsection.

“Good, Eliza. Very good girl.” He gently cupped her cheek as she hiccupped in earnest. Each one bringing with it a belch or pained grimace. His hands drifted back to the wooden hoop dangling from her ear and worked it free. She didn’t attempt to stop him. It was time to sell this one.

He knew she’d fetch a good price.


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