Chapter 5 - 005: a plate of contentment

A week passed in a similar fashion. Each morning I would greet Ishtar during her deliberations and feed her grapes as she presided over her people's problems. Making up for my mistake on the first day by bringing a little more than I needed each day. After deliberations were done, I’d entertain her in some manner or another for a couple of hours. Everything from card tricks, to an embarrassing session of serenading her. Then I’d pass up on her meal, and she’d pout before scoffing my portion for herself. It wasn’t all that unpleasant a way to spend a week all things considered. Ishtar was always downright delightful to spend time with. Even if her teasing kept putting me off balance. But as pleasant as it was there was an issue. I didn't feel like I was making any progress. She didn't seem to be getting any closer to satisfaction. So, on that day I decided to bust out the big guns.

I focused on stealing myself mentally for the task ahead. Deliberations for that day were still in progress and the goddess was grazing as usual. She was eating a little more than she had the day prior so I was glad I had overstocked. It took about two bunches to last the goddess through deliberations, but on that day in particular she was halfway through her third. Babylonian grapes weren’t quite like the ones we had back home. They were all around noticeable larger, juicier, and I could only assume far more delicious. The goddess didn't eat them one at a time, she’d take several in her mouth at once and savor the explosion of taste and juice as she swallowed them down. Often having to wipe her chin a little to clear it of juice. I wasn’t all that surprised to see her eating more than usual. The amount had been steadily climbing, and seemed to directly corollate with the quality of entertainment to be found in the deliberations. I couldn’t help but feel that with the amount she had eaten that week, it must’ve been a particular boring time in courts of Babylon.

Of course, there were some obvious consequences to her newfound deliberation habits. Combining them with her insistence on having food prepared for me, the goddess was overeating. In fact, she seemed to spend the end of each of our days together with her belly stuffed to capacity. Her original meals were relatively oversized for a single person given her status and the prosperity of the people she ruled. Combined with doubling that up and snacking between meals, and the extra calories were beginning to show. The divine milf was getting fatter, thickening under the effect of her constant overeating. Even though it had only been a week, all Ishtar seemed to do was lounge in her throne. Still, I couldn’t deny it was somewhat impressive. It was all fruit and the occasional bit of meat, a relatively healthy diet all things considered. But the sheer amount she was eating was still causing her to pack it on.

As she deliberated and snacked liberally from the fruit, I dangled for her, Ishtar’s body held a wobble it hadn’t on my first day. The goddess had become certifiably thickset. Her entire body had grown softer. It had always been a bit plush, but there was no longer even a hint of muscle or definition on her plump body. The straps of her loincloth cut into soft flab. A small but appreciable belly protruded from her waist, even when it wasn’t stuff to the brim It hung slightly over the edge of her loin cloth. Her thighs were like fluffy pillows of tanned flab. When she stood, or in certain positions when she sat, it became clear the gap between them had been erased. They had grown too thick not to press against one another and I could almost swear they jiggled a little when she moved her legs. As a fertility goddess though she seemed rather blessed in the distribution of her new flab. Her already pleasantly wide hips had begun to fit into her throne much better. They were noticeable handholds of soft fat, accommodating the small beginnings of saddle bags. Her breasts were practically overflowing the fabric bikini top designed to contain them. They had reached an impressive size at the behest of her increased appetite. There was more Ishtar to go around, a clear sign of the corpulent goddess's tendency to overeat.

“Dante” a familiar voice asked. I found myself shaking my head a little as I realized I had been lost in perverted reverie. It obviously wasn’t Ani, since she wasn’t calling me an idiot, meaning it was of course Ishtar. I glanced around and found that deliberations had seemingly come to an end. I was also aware that the vine of grapes in my hand and seemingly been picked clean. The goddess was eying me with a bit of concern. I almost squeaked as she leaned forward to put her palm on my forehead, perhaps to check my temperature. “Are you alright?” she interrogated me curiously. It occurred to me I could’ve lied. But something told me the truth would actually win me more brownie points. “I was simply, lost in the beautiful view of your lands” I muttered. Receiving a chuckle from the goddess for my troubles. “You’re supposed to be entertaining me remember?” she suggested in a playful tone. It was a joking sort of phrase. But there was an order loaded into its subtext. The goddess was eager, which was only going to make my task much more difficult. “Perhaps you’d like a massage?” I suggested. Knowing full well I may have been signing my death sentence.

Ishtar grinned a lopsided smile, staring up at me for a few moments before finally breaking out into laughter. “I was certainly right about modern men and their presumptions” she chastised albeit without malice in her voice. “Yet I can’t say it’s anything I’ve experienced before....” she trailed off as if thinking about it for a few moments before changing positions on her throne. “Ino, fetch some pillows” the goddess commanded casually and the muscular guard's woman headed out. I sighed, but whether it was out of relief or disappointment I wasn’t sure. You might be wondering why I wouldn’t want to feel up such an excessively attractive client. Her beauty was the exact reason it was going to be a problem. Sexual relations with clients were a huge no no, even for mortals. Normally, it wasn’t a problem, but I had never serviced a woman quite like Ishtar. I’d just have to give her a full body massage without losing my grip on myself if I wanted to keep my professional integrity, and possibly my head. As she stood up and her abundant curves jiggled, I found myself resisting the urge to call the whole thing off. The guard returned with the pillows and laid them out across the floor. Ishtar nodding to send her off before lying down on top of the vertical line of cushions.

“You should start lying on your stomach” I suggested immediately. The goddess flashed me a smug knowing smile before doing what I had requested. Her belly pressed flat against the pillows with her back facing me. To say she looked sexy from behind would’ve been an understatement. It was the first time I had gotten a good view of her rear due to its usual status filling her throne. The two cheeks were perfectly shaped, round like fresh pies and steeped like hills. Like the rest of her they were delightfully plump and more than satisfyingly big. I took my time imaging ice baths as I got down on my knees next to her. I brought my hands to her tattooed shoulders, and began to gently apply pressure and release. I almost chuckled at how unstrained they were. Soft and doughy like the rest of her there wasn’t a hint of stress on the goddess's body. It was hardly surprising given her lifestyle of pleasure. Never the less I heard her groan, and nestle her face into her pillow a little at my touch. Between her sounds and the amount of physical contact I was having with her, I found myself severely glad that her breasts were being pressed against the pillows.

Even without any strain, I continued to ease her shoulders a little, feeling my fingers sink slightly into the soft flesh of the zaftig goddess. Her groans continuing to send my blood rushing through the wrong places. “Lower” she announced propping her chin up on the pillow and turning her head to face me over her shoulders. She said it with a goofy teasing smile, but it was a command. I settled with my hands on her soft waist, inches above her impressive rear. I focused on the work as best as I could. But as I moved, she started wriggling her hips, the wide soft teasers working in rhythm with my work. Between that and the way my hands were sinking into the layer of softness on her plush frame I was inches away from losing it. But I held fast, fighting to remain calm as I worked out the nonexistent tensions of the goddesses back. Until finally she let out a relaxed sigh “You can stop” she said with a simple grin. With her blessing I leaned back, as stiff as iron in more ways than one.

“Are you satisfied” I asked her curiously, unable to keep a bit of a squeak from my voice. She propped her head into her two hands, cupping her soft cheeks, and putting on a show of thinking about it. “I’m content” she said after her musing. I blinked a few times. “Is that not the same thing?” I couldn’t help but ask. “No, I don’t believe so, but you were certainly entertaining, I think I’d enjoy doing it again sometime” she explained but for me her words held no impact. I had finally discovered what had been bugging me about her routine on that first day. Her life was idealistic, a dream. She was worshipped and looked after and didn't seem to want for anything. Yet she still wasn’t satisfied. Which bore the simple yet paradoxical conundrum. If those things couldn’t satisfy her, how exactly was I supposed to.