Breast Meat Pies - Extended

Disclaimer: This story contains adult themes. It is not suitable for minors or the easily offended.

https://linktr.ee/spartacuswrites

A Sweeney Todd-inspired story about a young princess who has a peculiar reaction to a particular type of meat pie. Spicy epilogue included.

Contains: Breast Expansion as Weight Gain

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Breast Meat Pies

Through the streets of Georgian London, a cloaked figure skulked in the darkness. The fog hung thick as an onion gravy, even with the rain pouring down like a well-watered wine on Coronation Day. The figure moved unseen and unregarded down the dark London streets, looking as if it belonged there even though it most certainly did not.

As Princess Celeste darted between two alleyways, the front of her cloak slipped open, revealing a flash of well-rounded pale skin as a few drops of rain collided with a very tight leather bodice. Celeste pulled the cloak closed tightly across her slender neck and was reminded of the first time she had made this outing – less than a year ago…

Down the same street moved the same cloak covering the same girl, albeit one that had no trouble keeping her cloak closed across her front. Princess Celeste was delighted, trying without success to avoid gazing around with her mouth open wide like a village idiot. It was her first time finally getting to explore the streets of Rat Bottom without the restraining presence of her parents—or her parents’ guards.

The Princess had gotten what she believed were commoners’ clothes from Mistress Cali–the castle seamstress–and had bribed her with enough lemon cakes to ensure her discretion. With red-gold ringlets bobbing and peeking from the hood of her cloak, the princess darted into a dark and shady but nonetheless bustling and inviting pie shop.

Celeste stepped across the threshold of the pie shop with more timidity than a virgin bride on her wedding night, hood up and cloak wrapped tightly around her as she gazed about at the unfamiliar surroundings.

“Come on in an’ have a sit at the bar, sweet thing!”

An older female voice welcomed Celeste in.

“We got food if’n you’ve got coin.”

Celeste inched forward, pinching a full silver Mark between her thumb and forefinger. She’d managed to steal a few from her mother’s purse while she was deep in her cups.

“Goodness, don’t go flashing that around ‘ere. What can I get you swee’art?”

“Um, I heard you have very good meat pies?”

“O’course, have a seat here, mistress…”

Celeste had planned for this part, at least.

“Jane.”

“Mistress Jane. Nice to meetcha, have a seat just there.”

Celeste climbed up onto the tall stool and, after hesitating a moment, pulled the hood back off her head.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing. You some kinda noble then?”

“No, no, good woman, my father is but a humble merchant.”

Mama Olive wasn’t buying the girl’s story, but figured everyone was entitled to their secrets. She looked the girl over appraisingly. She was pretty. Very pretty. Much too pretty for Rat Bottom, if a bit scrawny.

“Well, isn’t that nice. Tell you what. I’ve got a special kind a pie for sweet things like you. It’s jus’ one Mark a slice, but for a first-timer I’ll give you one half off; how’s that sound?”

“Oh, really? That’d be marvelous!”

Olive was certain that nobody in her shop had ever used the word “marvelous” before, but if this pale beauty started coming in regular, her regulars would be doing plenty of marveling.

A few moments later, Mama Olive was sliding a plate in front of Celeste. The thick slice of pie was brimming with chunks of meat, bits of carrot and onion, and a thick, creamy gravy.

“Here you go, sweet thing, Mama Olive’s special Breast Meat Pie.”

It smelled divine, and Celeste scooped a properly small bite from the end of her fork and plucked it into her mouth with the whitest teeth Mama Olive had ever seen.

“Goodness. This is amazing! I’ve never tasted anything so heavenly…”

Mama Olive had certainly never received praise on this level before.

“Well, I’m glad you like it, dearie.”

“Mistress Jane” pushed open the double doors of Mama Olive’s pie shop. Her cloak had fallen open again, and a few drops of rain followed her in.

Time slowed throughout the room as Celeste shook her hair back. Last year’s ringlets had grown out into simpler waves, but the red-gold locks still shone like the autumn sun. Her high cheekbones and sharp jaw had softened from her previous “severe noblewoman” look to something more befitting a well-kept courtesan.

Celeste’s “commoner” clothes consisted of a dark grey broadcloth skirt, which last year had hung loosely off her waist, but which now spread outward along the curve of her wide hips and more than hinted at a delectably large bottom.

Her arms, always smooth, had gone from bony and severe to plush and inviting, fully exposed by the vest-like leather bodice that made up the top half of her ensemble.

The vest, of course, was the coup-de-grâce of Celeste’s outfit. When she’d first darkened the threshold of Mama Olive’s shop, the Princess’s bodice covered her whole torso from waist to clavicle, laced up tightly and showing not a hint of the cotton camisole beneath.

Now it was clear to anyone paying even the slightest attention that “Mistress Jane” was wearing nothing at all under the leather bodice. Mama Olive wondered how on earth the garment didn’t chafe the poor girl something fierce, but wasn’t foolhardy enough to actually ask and risk offending her biggest spender.

The laces running between the two panels of leather left almost all of the young woman’s back bare, not that Mama Olive could see any of that with Celeste facing her. What she could see was a similar situation in the front; the laces were clearly at their limit, each tied into knots at its ends instead of together in the middle. A deep line of tight dark cleavage separated an expanse of flawless skin and stretched from neck to abdomen, longer than Olive’s entire forearm. The young woman’s soft and pampered stomach was completely exposed, and firm, creamy breast flesh pressed against bodice and laces, as if begging for freedom.

“Mistress Jane’s” demeanor had changed drastically in the past ten months since Mama Olive had first laid eyes on the young beauty. Rather than tiptoeing in and sitting quietly, she paused in the doorway, allowing everyone to admire her head-sized breasts and statuesque figure before strutting up to the bar, bosom wobbling as much as it could in its snug leather restraints.

Olive was starting to notice just how tall and regal her most generous patron was. She was beginning to think she should upgrade her estimation of “Mistress Jane“ from ”secret noble“ to ”secret royalty.”

“What can I get ye, Mistress Jane? Yer usual?”

“A slice of Breast Meat Pie, please, Miss Olive.”

Mama Olive eyed the young woman’s outfit meaningfully.

“I don’t know if’n there’s room in that bodice for another piece of pie, Mistress…”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve already commissioned a new one.”

Celeste ran a finger along the hem of the leather garment, caressing the spot where her well-fed breast muffined outward.

“I can probably still squeeze one more slice in…”

As it had so many times before, the succulent white meat and rich gravy sent sparks of pleasure over Celeste’s regal tongue. As the hearty and delicious mouthful slid down her throat and into her stomach, Celeste thought she could almost feel it bubbling up into her abundant bosom.

It didn’t work that quickly, of course, though Mama Olive and several nearby patrons watched the thong laces holding the wealthy girl’s top together with nervous anticipation.

It had taken several months of weekly and sometimes twice-weekly visits to the pie shop for Celeste to notice the change, and then several more weeks to pinpoint the cause. Whatever Mama Olive cooked into these pies was making her grow. The Princess knew it was unseemly for a member of the Royal family to have such an over-large bosom, but she found herself unable to resist. The sensitivity of her breasts increased in step with their size and teased her with pleasure all day, to say nothing of the exquisite taste of the pie itself.

Maybe—Celeste dared to hope in her most “intimate” moments—if she grew large enough, her parents would stop trying to marry her off to some decrepit King of a neighboring nation.

Far too soon, Celeste was scraping the crumbs off her plate. All that remained was the lingering aroma of her favorite food in the land.

“All done, Mistress?”

“–mmm–”

Celeste touched slender fingers to her stomach, which was trim but not toned, the literal soft underbelly of the upper classes.

“I could be tempted by another piece, but I’d better not.”

She placed a silver Mark on the bar.

“Yer single-handedly keeping me in business, Mistress. Yer father’s custom must be prosperin…”

“What? Oh yes, quite…”

Olive was struck with doubt once again at the story this beauty had fed her back when she was a rail-thin waif.

“I might have somefin special for ye if’n you come back next week.”

“Oh, excellent!”

Celeste donned her dark cloak again, fastening it at her alabaster throat and pulling it closed over her front, to the dismay of Mama Olive’s male patrons. The cloak slid open over the Princess’s breasts and let her impossible cleavage peek out, but she clasped one side and pulled it closed with one hand.

Someone held the door for Celeste as she ghosted out of the pie shop and into the night.

Epilogue

With the King and Queen keeping a closer watch on her, it was nearly the end of the next week before Celeste was able to slip out of the palace again. Her new bodice was still not ready, but she had gotten some longer thongs to lace it up, exposing the entirety of her ivory back. Were she not wearing her heavy wool cloak, she’d have been very nearly indecent.

Once again, she ghosted through the city streets, coming to her favorite secret place.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mistress. I had a special delivery of meat last week ’n had an extra large pie for ye, but some dandy bought up the ‘ole ting just yesterday…”

Celeste’s flawless features fell in disappointment.

“That’s alright, Miss Olive, just a normal slice if you please.”

The Princess ate with gusto as always, a far cry from the timid manner she had displayed on her first visit, and within moments, the hearty meal was devoured.

“It might be some time before I can return, but I thank you as always, Missus.”

Celeste laid her coin on the bar and strutted back out the door, covering her luscious form and distinctive hair with her cloak as she stalked back into the street.

Still several blocks from the Palace, Celeste was startled by a strong hand over her mouth and an arm ‘round her waist. Before she could think to struggle, the Princess was pulled into a small parlor. Her captor spun her free and stood blocking the only exit.

“What is the meaning of this? My father will–“

“Your father will do nothing to me once I tell him about your little ‘excursions’ into Rat Bottom, Princess.”

The figure threw back the hood of his own cloak to reveal a tall and rather handsome young man. He could not have been more than a year or two older than Celeste herself, and had the bearing of a noble.

“Who… who are you?” She asked, anger turning into curiosity.

“My name is Phillip. I believe you know me.”

Celeste’s mind worked rapidly in her growing confusion.

“Phillip… second… no, third son of King Edmund?”

“That’s right. I believe our fathers are scheming a union between my father and your highness.”

The Princess rolled her shining blue eyes.

“I see you are as pleased with that possibility as I am.”

“Then why have you abducted me?”

“I believe there is one who would be a better match for such an… exquisite creature as yourself.”

“What… you? What purest arrogance makes you think I’d settle for a mere third Prince when I could have a King?”

“Well… I have something you want. Something my father cannot offer you.”

Phillip gestured to a simple wooden table, where a round object was covered with a cloth.

Celeste’s eyes locked on the cloth-covered shape, and Phillip knew his own scheme had worked. He stepped slowly from the door and lifted the black cloth, revealing the largest pie Celeste had ever seen.

It was nearly three handspans across, and the upper crust was fairly bursting with hints of light golden meat. Celeste’s pupils dilated, and her mouth flooded with saliva.

“Can I take your cloak, Your Highness?”

The Princess was frozen where she stood, so Phillip stepped up behind her and lightly unclasped her heavy outer garment. Pulling the cloak away, he saw the crisscross of leather exposing her back. Soft fluffs of flesh pressed between the laces; the area below her shoulder blades was lightly muscled from carrying the weight of her front.

Phillip led Celeste with the lightest possible touch to sit at the table, admiring the view from his slight height advantage as veritable acres of alabaster cleavage rippled with each refined step.

Producing a knife and a pie server, the young Prince sliced a piece twice the size of the one Celeste had devoured only a few minutes earlier and placed it on a plate before the opulent redhead.

Phillip held a silver fork in one hand, but as Celeste reached for it, he pulled back.

“First, you must ask.”

Celeste licked her lips and spoke for the first time since she’d laid eyes on the massive meal.

“May I have some pie, please?”

“Such a polite Princess… Now say you’ll be mine.”

Celeste’s eyes darted from the slice—twice the size of her palm and with gravy oozing onto the plate, it looked so stuffed with meat that there was scarcely room for the vegetables—to the handsome Prince, tall and blonde, with a close-cropped beard and piercing blue eyes.

“Yours… you know what this pie will do to me?”

They both looked down at the ripe melons in their leather prison.

“Oh yes…”

“And you don’t find them… unseemly?”

“I find them perfect.”

“You do?”

“I love them.”

“And if they get even larger?”

“I will love them even more.”

“And if I… if I swear to wed you, you’ll let me eat this pie?”

“This, and as many pies as you like.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

“I swear it.”

Celeste snatched the fork from Phillip’s hand before he could give it to her and dug into the pie.

When the slice was gone, he gave her another.

And another.

And another.

Celeste’s stomach bulged out and pressed her sumptuous breasts upward, making the leather bodice creak with the strain. The abundance of breast meat in her stomach was making the overfed Princess swell before their very eyes.

In the way that only Royals can do, Celeste spilled not a single drop of gravy or a speck of crust, yet ate with the speed of a starving urchin offered a bowl of gruel. Bite after bite, gulp after gulp, the enormous pie slid down the Princess’s ivory throat.

When there were two slices left, an eyelet on Celeste’s bodice tore free, and Phillip could see a hint of areola peeking out. But the Princess kept eating.

Halfway through the last slice, two more eyelets popped, and the opposite nipple slid free, pointing eagerly toward the remaining pie.

At last, the massive feast was consumed. Celeste’s stomach was taut as a drum. She looked like a woman with child. Phillip rubbed his Princess’s packed stomach lovingly as she digested her meal, her corset groaning softly along with its wearer.

Celeste glanced down and saw that Phillip’s manhood was pressed tight against his trousers.

“Is that for me, too?”

Phillip held the silver kitchen knife and, in a motion almost too fast for her eyes to follow, severed the leather laces straining across Celeste’s front in two quick, fluid slices. The bodice exploded off of the Princess to fall limply to the floor.

Breasts larger than her red-gold head undulated softly as they stood high and proud on her royal torso. Smooth alabaster skin without a single mark or flaw filled the Prince’s eyes. Small, delicate circles of areola puffed up in arousal, and perfect pink nipples the size of thimbles stood fully erect.

Celeste rose, her face not showing the effort, and faced Prince Phillip with her most regal stare. For the first time, she noticed a bed against the wall of this small parlor.

Celeste backed toward the bed, and her Prince followed closely. His hands hovered near her but dared not touch her glorious globes without permission. She sat smoothly on the bed, naked breasts bobbing for several long moments. Slowly, she pulled and bunched her voluminous skirts up over her waist, exposing inch after inch of long, toned, porcelain-like legs.

She met Phillip’s eyes, then looked down at the red-gold curls between her ivory thighs.

“Now you eat.”