SpartacusDA
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Insurrection
🕑 Added 2025-05-28 13:00:13 +0000 UTCDisclaimer: This story contains adult themes. It is not suitable for minors or the easily offended.
https://linktr.ee/spartacuswrites
Contains: Breast Expansion, Attribute Transfer
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Insurrection
In the basement below the milliner’s shop, nearly two dozen women sat on wooden stools, chattering in hushed tones. The storefront above was dark, and two more women hid in the shadows outside, keeping watch. It was an open secret that the Queen had countless rats among the villagers. At the front of the dark room, a woman raised her voice. “Ladies, your attention, if you please.”
A hush fell over the gathering.
“You all have some idea of why we’re here, but I’m going to let our special guest explain it in detail. She has a better way with words than I.”
From behind a makeshift curtain of loose brown linen, a woman with long, red-brown hair and a white lace bodice materialized. A chorus of disbelieving gasps filled the room. The Witch of the Woods was tall and gorgeous; her clothes were made of finer material than the village women had ever seen, and her massive bosom bounced and jiggled with each step. She could not have looked more out of place in the humble gathering. Dressed in rough-cut muslin and homespun, the villagers’ clothes were worn and patched, hanging loose over their malnourished bodies. Their hushed voices uttered invectives like “witch” and “cursed.”
“Good women, be at ease,” the woman intoned. “I mean you no harm. On the contrary, I’ve come to aid in your liberation.”
The whispers grew more suspicious. One voice, just loud enough to cut through the din, asked her neighbor, “How are they so big?”
“Ladies!” The redhead said, “This is Edith. You all know she lives in the woods, far from the Queen’s power and free of the Queen’s Tax.”
“The tax is required!”
“We have to pay the tax!”
“The tax is how the Queen keeps us safe!”
“Safe, pah!” Edith spat. “What has that queen and her guards ever done for you? Except send her mages every spring to steal what’s rightfully yours?”
“We can’t defy the Queen!”
“Treason!”
“What about the bandits?”
“Those bandits,“ Edith put an extra measure of scorn into the word, “are in the queen’s employ. Did you never stop to wonder why they only attack before tax season?”
The mutterings lost some of their fear and outrage, drifting into curiosity.
“I tell you truly, that ‘queen’ sits in her palace, growing ever larger, feeding off your labors. And I ask you, which among you has even a spare ounce of bosom left to offer as tax?”
Fabric rustled as several women looked sadly down at ragged dresses or ran palms longingly over flat chests.
“But… what can we do?”
“The castle has guards…”
“The Queen’s magic…”
“Ladies, ladies!” The leader’s cries went ignored.
Edith waved a hand, and a shower of sparks drew every eye, silencing the clamor. “Ladies, we all agree on what must be done, yes?”
The crowd murmured reluctant agreement.
“It will be dangerous—but not impossible. If any of you wish to leave, you may do so now.”
A few stools creaked, but every woman remained in her seat.
“Very well. Here’s the plan…”
***
Edith strode purposefully down the main corridor of the queen’s castle. To either side of her, royal guardsmen were locked in loving embraces. A dozen women held their attention. Made near-impossibly beautiful by Edith’s magic, the least-endowed woman’s illusory breasts rivaled pumpkins at the harvest feast.
The sorceress flung wide the double doors to the throne room. With a flick of her wrist, the last two guards were bound and gagged with invisible cords. A stunning blonde woman sat in a gilded chair, a thin, braided diadem across her brow and a shimmering pink gown hugging a bosom so ample it rested in her lap.
“What is this? Guards!”
“You’ll find your guards otherwise occupied, Elia dear.”
“Edith!? Seven hells, can’t you just leave me be?”
“I most certainly cannot. Not when you’re leeching every woman in the county to satisfy your vain pride.”
“You underestimate me, old friend…”
“Queen!” Elia raised her palms, and gouts of flame shot toward Edith, where they fizzled into sparks several paces before reaching her.
Edith tutted. “You may be powerful, but you’ve grown lazy, my dear.”
With the barest flick of her fingers, Edith untied the illusion surrounding Elia. Her friend had never been particularly talented in the illusory arts. The queen’s gown tore to shreds as her bosom expanded. The stolen orbs filled her lap, spilling over her knees to rest on the dias, then spreading to cover half the cavernous chamber. Elia was now pinned in place, and Edith was safely hidden from further offensive magic behind her friend’s enormous breasts.
Panic lacing her voice, Elia asked, “What’s your plan now? Will you murder me in cold blood?”
Edith didn’t answer. Instead, her smooth brow furrowed in concentration as she wove threads of magic. Throughout the palace, cries of confusion and alarm rang out as Edith had to drop the many illusions she’d been holding. When the elaborate tapestry was nearly complete, she said, “Of course not, old friend. I’m simply giving back what you stole.”
“Wait, no—“
Edith tied the final thread into place, and Elia’s breasts vanished in a cloud of swirling lights. Cries of pleasure filled the palace halls as the village women’s curves returned. All throughout the village, other women who hadn’t participated in the uprising regained their former voluptuousness.
Of course, Elia hadn’t merely exacted her “tax” on the village; countless merchants, visiting nobles, and pilgrims passing through had found their bodices and tunics loosened. Edith sent a share of that excess to the insurrectionists and could hear the amorous sounds in the corridor behind her resume with eager enthusiasm.
Edith’s own lace bodice creaked and strained as her generous bosom gained nearly two handspans of girth. The sorceress’ motives weren’t entirely egalitarian. Pulses of pleasure spread over her body as her mana rose in tune with her size.
Slumped on the throne, a few piteous tears trickled down Elia’s face. As the shadow of Edith’s newly enlarged curves fell over her, she looked up.
“Well then. Shall we pay a visit to the White Council?”
“No! Please! Not the Council…”
Deprived of her stolen mana reserves, Elia was powerless as a mouse against Edith. “Hmm… I suppose I could keep you as my ward…”
The suggestion was absurd. They’d completed their Academy training the same year. But Elia’s eyes brightened, and she nodded. “Yes, please! Let me travel with you. I’ll do whatever you ask.”
Edith liked the sound of that. Doubtless, her “old friend” would turn on her at the first opportunity, but that was all part of the fun.
