The Ikon - 1/3
Disclaimer: This story contains adult themes. It is not suitable for minors or the easily offended.
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Alice joined the clergy to have her own life apart from her family. But when her very special sister comes of age, Alice must answer her Calling.
Contains: Rapid Breast Expansion, Breast Expansion as Weight Gain, Giantess
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The Ikon
I
Alice had lived in her little sister’s shadow even before Lydia grew taller than her. Five years her junior, Lydia had been born with a full head of yellow curls like no one else in Rivermere. The midwife, Viola, was so shocked that she’d run from their cottage to consult with Lucien, the village priest, leaving five-year-old Alice to help her mother with the newborn. Alice was on her hands and knees mopping up the last of the mess of her sister’s arrival when Viola returned with Lucien to witness the “miracle.” Many words passed between the adults that Alice didn’t understand. But one would live in her mind from that day onward: “ikon.”
Lucien declared Lydia the Ikon of their beloved goddess, Titania. Chosen of the Goddess as the vessel, the intercessor between Herself and Her people. The priest announced it the following Sunday, but by then, most of the village had already heard the news. Lydia became a legend, loved and revered by everyone, almost before the midwife cut her umbilical cord.
Though they had the same parents, Alice and Lydia looked like strangers. As they grew, Lydia’s golden hair became one of the smallest differences between them. Alice took after their mother: narrow hips, barely-there breasts, mousy brown hair, needing heeled shoes to stand taller than five feet. Lydia, the darling of the entire village, grew up rather more… well-nourished.
It wasn’t that Alice ever went hungry—she’d inherited their father’s austerity along with their mother’s physique. And their household never went without. But Lydia’s plate was always the first filled, and no one got seconds until she was done. There were never any seconds, even when the family fell on hard times, and the neighbors brought more casseroles than they knew what to do with. Lydia was never selfish or greedy about it; she simply had a big appetite. Their table etiquette wasn’t even her idea. But as the Ikon, anything given or done to Lydia was given or done to the Goddess—the biggest heathen in Rivermere wouldn’t dream of filling their plate before the Ikon was satisfied.
Alice didn’t resent her sister, per se, but few things can grow properly in the shade. She became an acolyte, apprenticing under Lucien. She wasn’t particularly devout, but sharing a childhood bedroom with the literal Ikon left little room for doubt. As an entirely unrelated, random coincidence, becoming a member of the clergy was Alice’s easiest path to traveling far, far away from her home village and her big little sister.
Five years later, Alice found herself serving in the Buxmore Titania, the Temple of Titania in Buxmore Harbor. A constant flow of pilgrims and unfortunates from across the wide world made every day fresh and new. She couldn’t say she was ever bored, though sometimes, on a quiet evening, Alice gazed out over the sparkling orange harbor water, lost in fond memories of home.
“Sister Alice?”
Alice was rolling bandages when the acolyte addressed her. “Yes?”
“The Steward would like to see you in her solar.”
“Very well, I’ll be there straightaway.”
The wiry young man scurried away before Alice could thank him.
The Steward’s Hand admitted Alice to the solar almost immediately. Mother Eleonora had been sitting as High Steward of the temple for over a decade before Alice was even born. Her hair was grey enough to appear white, hanging over one shoulder in a wrist-thick braid traced with indigo thread. Her face was etched with lines like an ancient oak, but her blue-green eyes were sharper than any Alice had ever seen. Those eyes missed nothing, and they landed on Alice with an expression she couldn’t read.
“Come, sit, Daughter.”
Alice sat.
“I’ve had a raven this morning—” Eleonora lifted a thin strip of curled parchment from her desk, then met Alice’s eyes again.
“Yes, Mother?”
“It’s from Rivermere.”
Alice kept her face calm with effort. It must be bad news. Had some mishap befallen one of her parents? Or both of them? Surely it couldn’t be Lydia…
The Steward rescued Alice from her building panic. “You are, doubtless, aware of your sister’s prophetic status?”
That’s one way of putting it. “Yes.”
“She came fully of age more than a fortnight ago. The oracles foresee her consecration with the next full moon. She will certainly amass a great following, but she will need guidance, don’t you agree?”
“Of course, Mother.”
“Excellent. Lucien still serves in Rivermere, but we fear he is not equal to this calling.”
Lucien must be in his sixtieth decade by now. “I expect you’re right.”
“I’m pleased to hear you say so,” Eleonora said. “Whatever Lady Titania calls upon Her Ikon to do, she will need someone young and healthy to serve her.”
Oh. Oh, no.
“Someone she already knows, and, dare I say, trusts.”
She couldn’t do this. But how could she refuse?
“Perhaps a bosom friend from her youth…”
Eleonora spoke as if merely thinking aloud. Alice didn’t believe for a second that this speech wasn’t fully rehearsed.
“A priest or—no, it must be a priestess, surely. One of two or three and twenty.”
Eleonora seemed to remember Alice’s presence, and those eyes, gray as the harbor before a storm, locked on her once again. “Can you think of a holy servant suitable for this vocation, Daughter?”
Alice slumped as best she could in the hard wooden chair, wishing she could melt all the way through the floor and back to her solitary chamber. She nodded.
“Excellent. A raven will be in flight to Rivermere within the hour. A caravan of pilgrims is departing this evening; I’m certain they’ll consider it an honor to have the Ikon’s Priestess in their party.”
Alice nodded again.
“Daughter.”
She met Mother Eleonora’s eyes. That lined face held no reproach, but her eyes glinted with the hint of a smile. “The pilgrims will consider it an honor, because it is. The Goddess has not sent an Ikon to us in living memory. None of Them have. As her Priestess, you will be subordinate only to the Ikon—a position higher than mine, higher than any of Their servants.”
Alice sat a little straighter. She had little interest in rank or power, and she’d never worship her baby sister as others did, but she wasn’t a child. Pouting over her assignment would be a slap in the face to the Steward and everyone she’d worked beside for the past five years. Good people who loved the Goddess and wanted nothing but the best for Her people. “I’ll do my best, Mother.”
“I know you will, Child.”
***
Rivermere hadn’t changed much in the four years Alice had been gone. Here, the Titanian chapel where she apprenticed under Lucien; there, the square with its fountain where half the town came to collect water and gossip. And just off the square was, of course, the baker’s shop with its sweet pastries. Her fondest memories were of holding her little sister’s hand while they walked to the shop to give her mother a break. She didn’t even mind Lydia’s small fingers getting sticky sugar all over her own palms.
“Alice!”
Alice was so lost in her revelry she almost didn’t hear someone call her name. Turning toward the source, she saw a figure emerging through the bakery door. It was a person. A very tall, very broad person. A person with a cloud of hair falling nearly to their hips. Wavy, curly, golden-blonde hair. In Buxmore Harbor, she’d finally seen a few other people with blonde hair. But no one had the glowing curls of her sister. Nowhere except the frescoes and murals depicting Lady Titania, and even then, the works of oil and brush were pale substitutes.
Lydia’s face split in a wide, delighted grin. Gone was the chubby teen Alice remembered. In her place stood an adult woman for whom the word “voluptuous” would have been a gross understatement. She seemed to fill the bakery doorway, making Alice wonder whether her robust form could even fit through the opening. Lydia had no such difficulties, however, and she waved at Alice as she stepped out into the midmorning sun and bounded toward her. She wore a dress in the Rivermerian style: A brown linen skirt to her ankles, a pale linen blouse with a thicker bodice over her middle. There were two striking differences between this costume and the one worn by every woman in the village. First, Lydia’s outfit was of a finer cut and weave than anyone wore apart from feast days. The linen fluttered in a satiny sheen; ornate embroidery covered the bodice, embellished with what appeared to be thread of silver. The second, of course, was that the dress was larger than any Alice had ever seen. The yards of fabric covering her sister could have made three dresses for her; perhaps four.
Lydia lumbered toward her like a giant; her plump, full body jiggling and quivering in ceaseless motion. As she ran toward Alice, Lydia seemed to grow larger with each step. Her long skirt couldn’t hide the breadth of her hips or the plush thighs that had to be the size of Alice’s waist. The bodice of her gown curved outward to contain the softness of her belly, and her arms, too, were larger than Alice’s legs. The biggest change of all was in her bosom. Alice knew her sister wouldn’t grow up petite and waifish as she and their mother, but she had not expected to find grown-up Lydia sporting udders that rivaled the finest cow in a dairy. She stood stunned, frozen in place like a statue, as those teats wobbled closer and closer.
As if Lydia were still only a hand’s breadth taller than Alice, she bowled forward and wrapped her in a hug that enveloped her entire body in plushy softness. Her sister had grown so tall that Alice could’ve tucked herself in the shadow of that bosom—if Lydia’s round tummy didn’t already occupy that space.
“Oh, it’s so good to see you. I’m so glad you came back”
“It’s good to see you too,” Alice managed to gasp with what little air her overgrown sister left in her lungs.
She tried to return her sister’s hug, but her fingertips wouldn’t meet around her squishy back. Finally, Lydia released her, and Alice took a few steps back to catch her breath.
“What—What happened to you?” She asked between gasps.
Lydia looked at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”
Was she serious? Alice ran through a litany of clarifying questions: How did you grow so tall? Taller than the old blacksmith! Taller than any person I’ve ever seen!? How did you get so fat? How much do you weigh? How on earth did you grow breasts bigger than my head? None of these questions were appropriate for a reunion with her baby sister, but she couldn’t think of any that were. She settled for the simplest approach. Gesturing vaguely at Lydia’s body, she said, “You’re so… big.”
Lydia’s grin faltered for a moment, and she looked down at herself, taking in her own figure as if she’d woken up in the body of a plump, luxurious giantess for the first time that morning. She shrugged, and her smile returned. “I don’t know. I’m just healthy, I guess. That’s what my followers say.”
“Your… followers?”
“Yeah. You know how people were always so nice to me when we were kids?”
“How could I forget?”
“Right. Well, old Lucien says I’m the Ikon. So most everybody in town comes to me with their prayers and presents.”
“Presents?”
“Yeah, you know, the, uh, what’s it called? Offerings. For Lady Titania. They give them to me. Coins, keepsakes, but mostly food.”
Yet another understatement if Alice had ever heard one. Deciding to change the subject, Alice asked, “So, how are Mama and Papa?”
Lydia made that puzzled face again. “Didn’t you hear?”
“Hear what?”
“Mama and Papa moved to the Capital.”
“What? When?”
“Oh, it wasn’t too long after you left, actually.”
“But why?”
“Well, Lucien said I should stay in the chapel so I’d be close by if people had prayers or presents.”
“Offerings?”
“Right, offerings. Anyway, after I moved into the chapel, Mama and Papa got offered some nice apartments in the capital as a gift from the church.”
“I see.”
A young woman dashed up to Lydia. She didn’t look much older than they were; five and twenty at most. She gazed up at Lydia as if she were the Goddess herself, handing her a large basket overflowing with rolls and pastries. Lydia grinned down at the woman.
“Thanks!”
“Please, Blessed One, I really, really want Tomas to ask me to dance at the Harvest Feast. Would you ask Lady Titania for me?”
It would be a lie to call this the most frivolous petition Alice had ever heard, but it was the most frivolous petition she’d seen accompanied by ten pounds of baked goods as an offering.
Lydia only smiled through the roll she’d already stuffed in her mouth. “Of course!”
The afternoon proceeded like this. Every few minutes, some townsperson or another stopped them to offer Lydia a gift and make some petition of the Goddess: Love, healthy children, a good harvest—So many requests for good weather that Alice lost count. At the chapel, Alice followed Lydia to a large audience chamber where her sister settled into a wide, cushioned chair while petitioners visited every few minutes. As her sister said, most of their offerings were food.
The old priest welcomed Alice with an almost embarrassing level of enthusiasm. When she’d heard she was living in the chapel, Alice was briefly concerned about the nature of Lydia’s relationship with Lucien. But the old priest simpered and fawned over Lydia to a degree that made her own welcome seem icy. If the dozens of townsfolk she’d watched offer her sister food this afternoon revered her, Lucien was downright fanatical. In no universe would he so much as speak to the Ikon in an inappropriate way.
“I’m quite glad you’re here, Sister Alice—Quite glad indeed. I should have known the church would send you here as the Ikon’s Priestess. I’m only ashamed that I didn’t see your vocation myself all those years ago.”
This was more respect and reverence than Lucien had ever shown her. For lack of anything more appropriate to say in response, she offered an automatic, “Thank you, Father.”
Lucien offered Alice his chamber in the corner of the chapel. It was little more than a closet, but she’d been well-acquainted with asceticism even before she joined the clergy. She tossed and turned on her hard cot, however, trying to reconcile the whirlwind of changes in her life. She would continue serving people as she always had. But through her sister, rather than directly. It was a big change, and certainly not one she would have chosen for herself, but she could see some good Lydia’s presence did in Rivermere. She couldn’t deny the strangeness of the arrangement. It seemed to Alice a waste of resources that could have been used to more widespread benefit. Nevertheless, Lydia had become a focal point for the Rivermerians’ faith. A walking, breathing, smiling… eating representation of the divine in front of their very eyes. But what was her own role in all this? Lydia was well cared for. More than well cared for. She didn’t seem to need Alice at all. A soft breath of rain pattering on the stone chapel calmed Alice’s mind, and she drifted off to sleep.