The Ikon - 2/3

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

II

CrrrACK!

Alice bolted awake in her cot, startled from slumber by the thunderclap. In the week she’d been living in the chapel, she’d yet to adjust to the storms of her childhood, so different from harbor weather. She climbed out of bed to check on Lydia; at least one thing about her little sister hadn’t changed since they were girls.

The massive slab piled high with blankets and cushions was missing its occupant, however.

“Lydia?”

There weren’t many places in the chapel where a woman her sister’s size could hide. Alice checked all of them. In an idle glance out the window, the flash of another lightning bolt illuminated the outline of a well-fed silhouette. She found Lydia in the garden behind the chapel, her eyes unfocused like a sleepwalker.

“What are you doing out here?” The storm seemed to be passing, but Alice still raised her voice to be heard over the rain.

Lydia spoke in a flat voice, devoid of its usual exuberance. “Don’t you hear it?”

“Hear what?”

“It’s Her…”

This must be it, Alice realized with a start, her sister’s calling. What had the Steward called it?

Before Alice found the word, the rain slowed to a drizzle. The clouds parted over half the sky, revealing the moon. It was full, yes, but never had the expression “full moon” felt so insufficient. Perhaps the moon was larger, perhaps brighter. When she tried to explain it later, all Alice could ever say was that the moon was fuller than she’d ever seen it.

“…ughter…”

The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, but Lydia’s gaze was fixed upon the moon.

“Daughter…”

“My Lady?” Lydia asked.

“There you are, Daughter.”

Alice dropped to her knees in the wet grass. She bowed her head. Needless to say, she’d never heard the voice of the Goddess—not in such an audible, undeniable way.

Lydia seemed less affected than her sister. “Is it really you, Lady Titania?”

“Yes, Lydia. Your time has come.”

“My… my time?”

“Through you shall my people be blessed. The harvest is nearly come. You will become my Ikon in full.”

Alice rose shakily to her feet. Reverent humility struggled with her curiosity, but she might never get a better chance. “Pardon, Holy One. What does that mean?”

Titania’s presence fell on Alice like a weight. Rather than crushing or oppressive, it was like an intense hug, right at the edge of too tight.

“Alice.”

The sound of her own name was accompanied by a shift in the presence, something warm and comforting, but no less intense.

“You have served my children well. You will now serve your sister as she serves my children.”

“But… but how, My Lady?”

“The harvest shall bring an outpouring of devotion. The Ikon must receive that devotion in my stead. They will need guidance as Lydia grows into her consecration.”

Consecration. That was the word. Alice’s attention was fixed on another word, however.

“G-grows?”

“Indeed. Lydia will grow into the fullness of womanhood and beyond. There must be no doubt that she is My Ikon.”

Alice looked over at her sister. The rain had plastered Lydia’s nightgown to her body like a second skin. Soft curves were everywhere. The indent of her navel in a belly that had never known hunger, hips wide enough to bear the healthiest of infants—a fertility idol made flesh, over six feet tall. Jutting forward like a sail under full wind, a bosom which strained the buttons on her nightgown. Ripe and round, they cast the other aspects of Lydia’s beauty in shadow; literally, in a few cases. She could feed a nursery’s worth of babies and have milk left over.

“Have you seen her?” Alice asked incredulously. “She’s grown plenty full already.”

Lydia seemed to notice her for the first time. “Alice,” she hissed, “don’t talk back to the Goddess!”

Titania’s chuckle was a distant roll of thunder. “Fear not, daughters. Rivermere has done well in providing for and preparing Lydia for her calling. My consecration will expand upon that work, growing My Ikon until her glory fills My temples.”

Alice thought of her sister brushing doorframes and ducking to get inside the small chapel. Then she remembered the vast columns and vaulted ceiling of the temple at Buxmore. “What if she gets stuck in the door?”

Lydia scoffed. “I know I’m a little chubby, Alice, but I’m not going to get that big.”

Wind rushed through the trees, and Alice felt the Presence descend on her sister. Lydia’s body was suffused with light, glowing like the overripe moon above. As the light faded, so too did the voice of the Goddess.

“Farewell, My daughters. This is only the beginning…”

Alice woke in her cot, uncertain how she’d gotten there or whether the previous night had been a dream. She heard a rumbling like many voices and stood on her cot to peek out the tiny window. A veritable mob of townsfolk was gathered around the chapel.

Shoving down her panic, Alice quickly donned her vestments and went to the front doors. There was no sign of Lucien. Half the village, it seemed, stood outside. They carried bundles and baskets of food—there were even a few wagons. Alice recognized some of them; a few had visited the chapel with an offering and a petition in the past week.

“Are… are you all here to see the Ikon?”

It was hard to pick out individual responses in their collective roar, but the consensus was definitely affirmative.

“Give us just a few minutes.”

Alice closed the door on a cacophony of pleas. She rushed to her sister’s bedroom, which was simply the space behind her audience chamber. When she’d served in this chapel as an acolyte, Alice remembered it as one large room for meetings and assemblies. A heavy curtain had been hung behind the throne to seclude Lydia’s bedroom. Her sister was half tangled in a single bedsheet; her plush bosom rose and fell with her breath as she slumbered despite the sun through the high windows and the noisy crowd outside.

“Lydia, Lydia!”

Lydia’s eyes flickered open as she woke with a groan. “Alice? What’s the matter?”

“There’s a bunch of petitioners gathered outside. You need to get up.”

“Pe-what?”

Alice sighed. “The villagers, your ‘followers.’ They’re here with offerings and prayers for the Goddess.”

Lydia’s face lit up, and she leaped out of bed despite her size. “My people need me!” Her tongue darted across her lips, and she rubbed her grumbling tummy. She lumbered toward the curtain.

“Wait!” Alice followed her sister into the audience chamber. “Aren’t you going to get dressed?”

Wiggling her bottom as she settled into her throne, Lydia waved a dismissive hand. “No time for that.”

Well, Lydia was covered, even if the nightgown looked a little more snug than it had last night. In the time it would take Alice to convince her sister to change and help her do so, the mob outside might decide to break the doors down. Biting back another sigh, Alice let them in.

“One at a time. Form a single line, please!”

Like herding cats, Alice corralled the throng into some semblance of order. After a few minutes, they followed each other’s example, arranging themselves in a queue that led into the audience chamber and wrapped down the street outside. With that settled, Alice went in to check on Lydia.

Alice had been back in Rivermere for nearly a week. Every day, she’d watched a steady flow of villagers—a few each hour—come to the chapel or stop Lydia on the street to offer her a gift and make a request of the Goddess. Now, it seemed the entire town was lined up to see her. They all brought food, but it seemed nobody had a request or petition.

A man dropped a bushel basket on the dais. “This was our best harvest yet, Blessed One. I’ll bring more tomorrow!”

A woman handed her an entire pie. “Here you go, Ikon! Thank the Goddess you’re here.”

The butcher carried a crate of smoked meats in his burly arms. “Bless you, Lady Lydia.”

Alice recognized many of the village residents, but more than a few people in line wore clothing that marked them as outsiders. Somehow, overnight, word had spread beyond Rivermere, bringing pilgrims with offerings from all over the countryside. A few even wore garb she’d only seen in Buxmore Harbor.

As if she needed one more thing to overwhelm her, Alice noticed something unusual happening. Her sister had always had a healthy appetite. In the past week, she’d watched Lydia devour enough food offerings to feed an entire family, day after day. Now that the offerings were pouring in, her sister stuffed herself with both hands, without ceasing. Alice had opened the chapel only an hour ago, and food offerings had already surpassed the previous day. Food offered and food consumed.

Munch, munch, munch…

Unusual wasn’t a strong enough word. Something strange was happening. Healthy as Lydia’s appetite was, she shouldn’t be able to eat ten times as much as she had yesterday and keep going strong. Yet eat she did: Mouthful upon mouthful, offering after offering, she ate almost as fast as her people could give her more.

Homf, slurp… Crreeeak.

Strange was strange, but what Alice observed next was impossible. Which is not to say she doubted Lady Titania’s power, but it defied comprehension. As Lydia gorged herself on the offerings of her faithful, she grew. Not in the way a person who overindulges at the dinner table may grow stout over the years. Nor in the way a well-nourished child grows taller as they develop. Not even in the way a nursing mother’s teats swell with milk or the bellies of her young swell as they nurse. It was all of these things and none of them. Lydia ate a sweet roll the size of her fist, and the shelf of her bosom stretched. She munched on a smoked sausage, and her bottom covered the slightest bit more of her chair. She gulped a jug of rich broth, and each swallow sent her head a hairsbreadth nearer to the vaulted ceiling.

Gulp, ulp, ulp… Brrrroowm.

Before Alice had time to truly ponder this divine mystery, she noticed a problem. Lydia was growing before her very eyes, but her nightgown was not. With every offering, the gaps between its buttons widened, the slits along her legs covered less thigh, and the bottom hem revealed more of her ankles. Unlike some other countries, the followers of Titania were not prudes. Nevertheless, it wouldn’t do for Her Ikon to sit for her petitioners in the altogether. Lydia was too focused on eating to assist in this dilemma, so Alice went to find her some clothes.

Alice held up one of her sister’s linen blouses and peeked around the curtain. Lydia’s head, once mostly obscured behind her throne’s back, was now visible nearly to her nape. Her bosom had grown so broad that it peeked around the sides of that throne as the Ikon moved and munched. Alice flung the blouse onto the growing pile on Lydia’s bed. How could she fix her sister’s wardrobe problem if her clothes were all the same size? She could wrap the bedsheets around Lydia’s growing form if that wouldn’t be almost as shameful as letting the Ikon go about naked.

Before she could descend fully into panic, a soft voice called out from the audience chamber. “Sister Alice?”

Alice peeked around the curtain, where a woman carried an armload of white fabric. “Yes?”

“You probably don’t remember me. I’m Charlotte, a seamstress. I moved to Rivermere just before you left.”

“Ah. Apologies, Charlotte. I’ve rather… had my hands full, since I returned. How can I help you?”

“It’s I who should apologize, Sister, for the confusion. There’s nothing I need; I’ve come to serve. I made robes for the Ikon.” Charlotte lifted a length of material from the bundle in her arms. It looked like an unpitched tent’s worth of fabric… which meant it just might cover Lydia’s burgeoning curves.

“How…”

“Oh, the Lady Titania came to me in a dream!” Charlotte dove into her tale. A fantastical visit from the Goddess, who showed her a garment fit for Her Blessed Ikon. Titania allegedly gave the seamstress specific instructions, down to fabric lengths measured in cubits.

A week ago, Alice would have called the dream superstitious nonsense. But she’d spoken with the Goddess mere hours earlier. Indeed, she could see something undeniably supernatural happening over Charlotte’s shoulder: Lydia’s bosom had grown even larger in the few minutes Alice had been speaking with the seamstress.

“That is quite the vision. Our Lady is most wise.” Alice almost meant it.

“Indeed, Sister, indeed.” Charlotte turned, following Alice’s gaze. “It seems She sent me just in time, as well.”

Shrip

The unmistakable sound of ripping fabric cut through the din of queuing followers and Lydia’s constant chewing. The nightgown already had small tears under her arms where the seams were failing along the flanks of her prodigious bosom. Whether Charlotte’s timely arrival was divine intervention or mere coincidence, it was certainly not a moment too soon.

Alice dashed to the front of the dais and spread her arms. “Attention! I need to pause the offerings. The Ikon, um, must commune with Our Lady.”

“Alice, what?”

Up close, Lydia seemed even bigger. Her bosom spread wider than her vast hips, crumb-dusted cleavage welling up toward her chin. Alice stepped onto the dais and beside the ornate chair. She whispered, “You need to change into bi—er—better clothes.”

Lydia looked down at herself. The top buttons of her nightgown were already undone, letting vast swaths of cleavage shine back at her. “What’s wrong with this?”

Crrrrik—pop!

The topmost of her fastened buttons shot across the chamber like a loosed arrow. Lydia put a hand to her still-quavering bosom and her cheeks flushed. “I guess it might be getting a little snug.”

“Let’s go before you take someone’s eye out,” Alice hissed.

Lydia pushed herself to her feet, towering over everyone. She was nearly eight feet tall, putting Alice eye-to-eye with her belly button. “Sorry, everyone! I’ll be back in a few minutes to accept more of your yummy pres—offerings!”

It took both Alice and Charlotte working with Lydia to get her changed. There was a moment of stunned silence when she peeled off the shreds of her nightgown, letting her enormous breasts bounce out in the open. They were round and full like balls of dough twice as big as her head—Lydia’s head; they were nearly four times the size of Alice’s—with fat pink nipples springing out eagerly. To Alice’s shame, Charlotte recovered first, handing lengths of fine linen up for Lydia to don.

The outfit was like nothing Alice had ever seen. Yards of fabric draped over Lydia’s shoulders, wrapped around her waist, and hung in panels over her hips and legs. Metal rings—brass, but polished till they shone like gold—fastened at intervals to keep everything in place. The skirt-pieces reached her ankles in front, but pooled on the floor behind her. It wasn’t until the ensemble came together that Alice understood.

Lydia’s arms and shoulders were bare, her back covered only by the narrow strips over her spine. A deep V ran from her collarbone past her navel, and her bare belly spilled over the skirt in plain view. Even the skirt showed flashes of chubby calf and thunderous thigh whenever she moved. Nevertheless, she was covered. What’s more, as Charlotte adjusted the rings and straightened the linen, Alice saw the garment could adjust. It might even adapt itself as the Ikon continued to grow.

As Alice admired Charlotte’s ingenuity, or perhaps Titania’s inspiration, she heard an insistent gurgling.

Grrowll

“Thanks so much, Miss Charlotte! Can I go back to my offerings now? I’m starving!” Lydia bounced on her toes, making every curve jiggle and the chapel walls shake.

Alice’s jaw fell open. Her sister had been eating non-stop for half the day.

“I’m all finished, Blessed One,” Charlotte said, beaming and flushed at Lydia’s praise.

“Yay! Thanks again!”

Lydia lumbered past the curtain to settle back onto her throne. A chorus of compliments and admiration for her new clothes rose from the crowd.

“How did you learn to make an outfit like that?” Alice asked.

“Sister?”

“I mean, it’s adjustable, yes?”

“Oh! I just made what I saw in the dream.”

“So you didn’t know she’d be so… big?”

Charlotte shook her head. “Isn’t it wondrous? Who would have thought Our Lady would bless our little village so.”

Alice saw nothing but adoration in the seamstress’s eyes. The crowd, queued up to offer her sister even more food, gazed up at her with every bit as much awe. No one seemed at all bothered by the fact that she’d grown from a tall, plump woman into a towering, voluptuous giant in a single day.

Chomp, gulp… Bwooom

Lydia’s breasts swelled into their linen covers, drawing them tight. A bit of material slipped through a ring as her outfit adapted. Lydia hadn’t “grown;” she was “still growing,” and from the looks of that crowd, she wasn’t going to stop growing anytime soon. The chapel had high-vaulted ceilings, twelve feet high according to Lucien, and the Ikon now stood at least eight feet tall. Never mind the doors; if this kept up, she’d outgrow the building in a week’s time.

Alice needed to talk to Lucien.