Gaining Harem

Chapter 1 - The beginning of a sexual dream.

Lord Richter did not belong to this world. He was once an ordinary European citizen, a common man whose existence was suddenly interrupted and projected into a radically different reality, dominated by magic and populated by legendary creatures. For anyone else, such a cataclysm would have been destabilizing, but Richter possessed a pragmatic and ambitious intellect: within a short time, he figured out how to turn every single rule of that new universe to his advantage.

Local society closely resembled Earth's Middle Ages, with the crucial difference that technological and economic backwardness was partially compensated for by the arcane arts. However, magic was an elite privilege, accessible to very few. Sensing the market gap, Richter used his modern scientific and technological knowledge to accumulate wealth and, consequently, influence. His commercial empire had started modestly, from a shaky stall in the market square where he sold small everyday items, completely unknown to the natives but so revolutionary that they soon attracted hundreds of customers. Before long, demand became unsustainable for one man. The next step was inevitable: he invested his earnings to open a real shop, hired artisans and workers, and began to develop more complex technologies, forging ties with the nobility and the wealthy classes.

Within a few years, his wealth became so immense that it allowed him to purchase a prestigious noble title, a vast fiefdom, and a fortified castle. Finally, Lord Richter had the means to realize the dream he had secretly harbored since the day of his arrival. In his old world, his peculiar erotic impulses-linked to absolute control, feederism, and bodily modification-were considered taboo, questionable perversions that he could only indulge anonymously on some online forum. But here, in his fiefdom, he was the law. No one could judge him. Moreover, in that society, the institution of slavery was perfectly legal and considered a supreme status symbol. As if that weren't enough, the world was populated by fascinating non-human humanoid races. Multiple times Richter had fantasized about owning exotic women, completely subjugating them to his will, and transforming them into his personal objects of pleasure. Now, every obstacle had vanished.

Lord Richter had meticulously designed an entire wing of his castle to become the private sanctuary of his harem: a luxurious place where his future properties would live, bathe, and consume their meals. That morning, the Lord observed with deep satisfaction as the artisans finalized the decorations and sumptuous furnishings according to his precise directions. The anticipation of going to the slave market to make his first purchase made the blood thrill in his veins.

- Tebas! - the Lord's voice resonated authoritatively through the hall.

- At your command, my lord, - a middle-aged man with grizzled hair and a trustworthy air approached quickly, bending his torso in a deep bow.

- Is everything ready to welcome our new guest?

- Certainly, milord. The private quarters have been sanitized and adorned with the finest fabrics, the kitchens are already preparing the first special foods ordered by you, and the maids have laid out the vestments and the uniform, - the butler listed in a silky, professional tone.

- Excellent. Have the carriage prepared. I want to be at the market before the auction begins, so as to ensure the best choice.

At the market, the atmosphere was vibrant, but Richter's attention was immediately captured by a figure displayed on the main stage. It was an elf. Despite her obvious state of malnutrition and emaciated appearance, her beauty was undeniable. She was about one meter and sixty centimeters tall, slender, with long hair of a blonde so pale it appeared almost white, though at that moment it was dirty and disheveled. Her eyes, an intense emerald green, stared blankly at the wooden boards of the stage and the heavy chains that bound her slender ankles.

- Her... - Richter whispered to himself, a predatory smile lighting up his face. - She will be the first.

The Promise of Comfort
Shortly after, the noble carriage left the market, jolting over the stones of the road leading to the fortress. Inside the cabin, the elf sat on the seat opposite her new master. She maintained her silence, her gaze lowered, unable to formulate questions out of terror for what destiny held in store for her.

- What is your name? - the nobleman asked, breaking the silence firmly but without apparent malice.

- Ly... Lyra... - she whispered in a trembling voice, fighting hard to hold back the tears that threatened to wet her cheeks.

- For the time being you can rest easy, Lyra. It is not my intention to harm you, - the nobleman began, studying her slender figure. - As soon as we cross the castle walls, the servants will take care of you. They will wash you, dress you, and lead you to your quarters. There I will explain your duties and the future I have mapped out for you.

Lyra looked down at her tattered clothes and her skin covered in the dust of the market. She touched her hair, feeling it greasy and knotted.

- Y..Yes, master... - she replied, deciding that submitting docility was the best strategy for survival. If they washed and fed her real food, it would still be an improvement over the merchant's cell. This strange lord did not seem as brutal as the other buyers; by humoring him, perhaps she would obtain favorable treatment.

Having reached their destination, Richter stepped agilely out of the carriage, turning immediately to the butler: - Tebas, hand her over to the maids. I will wait for her in the harem. - Then, he turned and disappeared beyond the large oak doors.


Lyra was subjected to a meticulous purification. A warm, fragrant bath removed the dirt, revealing fair, soft skin; her silver-gold hair was combed and polished until it shone, her nails manicured, and her entire body anointed with expensive essential oils. Finally, the elderly housekeeper had her put on a gown of the finest silk, so light that it sensually caressed her slender forms, highlighting her supple silhouette as if it had been molded specifically for her.

Once the dressing was complete, Tebas escorted her through the castle corridors, briefly explaining the layout of the residence, until he led her into the main hall of the Harem. There, seated on a sumptuous damask armchair in front of a richly laden table, Lord Richter sipped wine from a silver goblet.

"Finally, I couldn't wait!" the man thought, as his eyes devoured the clean figure of the elf. "A creature so magnificent, entirely mine, to mold as I please. In my old world all this would have remained confined to my mind; now I will enjoy every single moment of this transformation."

Lyra stepped forward with a bewildered air and was seated in the chair adjacent to her master's. Richter gave a nod of understanding to Tebas, a silent and anticipated command. The butler bowed and headed toward the kitchens.

- Well, my little slave, the time has come to explain the role you will have in my life, - Richter began, maintaining a calm but absolute tone. - It took me years to accumulate this power, and my ultimate goal is to establish a private harem composed of the most splendid non-human creatures. You have the privilege of being the first. You and the others who will come will live surrounded by every possible luxury, - he added, opening his arms to indicate the opulence of the room, - but you will be at my total disposal to satisfy my every desire.

At those words, Lyra felt tears stream down her face. It was the fate she had feared. However, before despair could take over, her senses were shaken by a delicious and overwhelming scent. A procession of servants began to arrange an impressive quantity of golden dishes on the table, piled high with delicacies: rich meats, creamy pies, pastries soaked in sugary glazes, and buttery pastries with a very high caloric content.

"A dinner with him? Even though I am just a servant?" Lyra thought, confused. Finding a shred of courage, she murmured: - Forgive me, my lord... but a slave is not allowed to dine at the master's table...

- In fact, we will not dine together, Lyra. Only you will eat... and you must consume every single course.

The elf widened her eyes, terrified by the sheer volume of food that could have fed an entire platoon. - All by myself? But... please, my lord, it's not possible... my stomach could never contain such an amount!

Richter abruptly interrupted her plea by striking the table with a fist, making the goblets clink. The dull sound made the elf jump, and she silenced immediately. - I did not ask for your opinion, slave. This is an order!

Resigned, with warm tears streaming down her cheeks, Lyra reached out her trembling hand toward the nearest plate. Under the watchful eye of the Lord, she slowly began to bring the food to her mouth.


- My lord... please... - Lyra groaned some time later, her voice reduced to a painful whisper. - I can't force down another single bite... - She rubbed her tight belly in a desperate attempt to alleviate the painful internal pressure.

Richter, motionless beside her, pushed his chair a few centimeters to closely examine the girl's silhouette. His salivation increased at the sight of that erotic spectacle: the silk dress, previously fluid and soft, was now stretched to the limit against the elf's lower abdomen, revealing a sharp, swollen, and round curvature that started from the sternum and pushed aggressively outward.

- Stand up and lift your dress, - the Lord commanded, his voice thick with repressed excitement.

The elf, emitting a labored breath due to the visceral fullness, slid down from the chair. She tried to bend slightly to grab the hem of the dress, but the rigid mass of her belly prevented her, causing a surge of nausea. She then bunched up the fabric starting from her hips, slowly lifting it up her thighs until her taut abdomen was entirely uncovered.

- Higher, - Richter ordered coldly.

Hesitating, Lyra lifted the silk above her breasts, small and firm, which appeared almost insignificant compared to the prominent sphericity of the belly below.

- Magnificent... - Richter whispered. He reached out his powerful hand and placed it on the elf's naked belly, beginning to stroke it with slow, circular movements. The skin was very hot, taut like the membrane of a drum; the swollen belly created a deep and sensual contrast with the protruding bones of her hips and pelvis, making her look almost pregnant with pure food. - Your body is responding beautifully, but we are just at the beginning. Finish the rest.

- But lord, I can't... I'm full to the point of sickness, I...

Before she could finish, Richter's steel fingers grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look into his eyes as he squeezed her cheeks, opening her mouth.

- Perhaps you haven't understood your nature, Lyra. You are my property, a mere tool for my enjoyment. If I order you to eat until you burst, you will continue to gorge yourself until the plates are empty.

Without loosening his grip, Richter lifted her bodily and sat her on his lap, positioning her in front of the table. With one hand he blocked her back against his chest, while with the other he grabbed a golden spoon filled with a dense, spiced pastry cream, bringing it to her lips.

- Eat.

Crying silently, the elf opened her lips, welcoming the rich, heavy food. Richter allowed her no respite: every time Lyra swallowed with difficulty, a new morsel filled her mouth. The girl tried weakly to shake her head, to offer a fragile physical resistance, but the Lord's strength was absolute. Richter explained to her in a whispered, hypnotic tone, directly into her ear, that this torment was necessary: the stomach had to be forced, stretched beyond any natural limit, so that its capacity would increase day after day, preparing her body to welcome the pounds of fat that would soon erase her former slenderness.

As Lyra strained to swallow, fighting the agonizing internal pressure and feeling her abdominal muscles pull painfully, Richter kept his open hand on her naked belly. Under his palm, he could clearly feel the walls of her stomach pressing against the skin, expanding millimeter by millimeter, taut almost to the breaking point, while the elf's body capitulated to her master's will.