Emergency Measures (Trade with Ven_Blackfurr)

It was a shame what happened to everyone, but there was no use crying over spilt milk; they’d be there for days, in the process developing so much more of it that they’d have to arrange for an additional stay.

It was a bit of a joke among the priesthood, albeit one used to masquerade the desolation and despair commonly associated with their line of work. If they were ever called to any place, that meant things had already gone down the worst possible path, and the former city of Karena was no different. Struck by a plague, most of its inhabitants either perished or sought refuge elsewhere, until the last survivors moved out to neighbouring refugee camps until such a time as their former residence could be decontaminated properly. As soon as the victims were carted out, the Bearers were called in, given the details, and then asked to provide the help only they could.

Leading the contingent was one of the priesthood’s most promising adepts, a wolf by the name of Ven; though relatively young by the standards of her organization, she had nonetheless proven herself in multiple other disaster locations, most notably in the freak magical explosion that temporally displaced multiple settlements in the northern border and the unfortunate incident with the marzipan manufactury, for whom she was personally responsible for saving the lives of all of the workers present at the time. Her success could be attributed mostly to her prodigious qualities, as the Bearers preferred to call them; most of their members began their careers with moderately-sized bodies, growing into their responsibilities over time. Ven, meanwhile, bypassed all of that.

Three years prior, she presented herself to the local branch of the priesthood, intending to pledge her service to them. Immediately her future superiors knew that they had someone special in their hands: her firm, plump rear was already wide enough that she had difficulty walking through doors without getting stuck, melding down into a pair of voluptuous, perfectly child-bearing hips, flared to just the right degree. Her plump bosom was ripe with a creamy bounty, easy to flow and even easier to prod into extra production, stored away in breasts large enough that they swung close to her waist, protruding a good foot or two from either side of her chest. All in all, a figure that other Bearers would need years of intensive service to achieve was Ven’s version of a blank canvas, even if the wolf was incredibly sheepish about her form; covered from head to toe in the least revealing clothing possible, it took a lot of convincing to get her to strip for her inspection, after which the poor thing needed a long cooldown hug and reassurance on the part of the priestesses that everything was going to be alright.

Despite their initial concerns (and indeed hesitations), Ven quickly grew into her role, and not only demonstrated an innate talent for it, but her body displayed an outstanding malleability never before seen in any initiate. While some struggled to deliver a litter with more than three or four cubs at a time, Ven would never hold any less than seven, eventually eight. Where others had issues even mending something as simple as a broken bone, a short stay inside her welcoming womb allowed even the most badly injured of folks to be restored to full health within hours. And whereas most newcomers to the priesthood required hours between milking sessions, during which they were hard-pressed to produce anything more than a couple of bottles, Ven not only filled entire rows of pails, but simply refused to stop, her lactation so powerful that it only ended when she said it ended. All of this had compound effects on her body that even the chief priestesses couldn’t have predicted; not only did the wolf’s hips widen with every instance of her lending her healing womb to others, but her breasts seemed to be constantly swelling at all times, even when not being actively milked. Within a year of her service, when her first blessing was to be given, Ven was already so top-heavy that she often required assistance from other initiates just getting around.

Meanwhile, and despite her stellar performance, she remained as steadfastly humble as ever, refusing any accolades offered to her, and indeed bestowing them upon others whenever she couldn’t reject them outright. Nonetheless, her talents simply could not be wasted, and as soon as the First Blessing was administered, granting her an even bigger, heavier bosom, she was promoted to a full Bearer, so named for their chief purpose. From that point forward, she very rarely set foot in her original temple, instead being ferried from place to place, from disaster area to blast zone, always with the goal of repopulating desolate landscapes and providing aid to the ailing and injured. Whatever was required of her, Ven performed the task admirably, and it wouldn’t take long before her name began to be spoken of with some reverence, much to her concern and embarrassment.

The wolf insisted that she was exactly the same as any of her sisters, but they all knew this was merely a polite fiction, created for the purposes of maintaining appearances and not rocking the boat too hard… or at least, everyone else did; to Ven, it was her absolute truth. Nothing annoyed her more than being treated like she outranked anyone; far as the wolf cared, her job was to tend to the sick and help bolster population levels, not squabble in backroom politicking or decide who did what and got which prize. It was a terrible side to their priesthood, and one she hoped never to have to engage with. This alone was the biggest reason why she was out in the field so much; after a while, she got to choose, and thus picked to never be anywhere close to a meeting room.

Still, Karena would prove to be her biggest challenge yet. Three years and three blessings had done a number on her body, leaving the wolf practically unrecognizable to anyone who might’ve known her before. Each of her asscheeks was the size of a small couch, enough that if she wanted to, Ven could sit down on it with very little effort. Her hips managed to be wider still, as a result of both hundreds of births and countless injured and sick that took refuge within her womb; even if it was just a fraction of an inch each time, the boosts to her size added up, leading to a magnificently bottom-heavy figure. Her thighs as well provided the best care to those in need of a warm place to rest their heads; indeed, right now she was providing such aid to at least five people, all of which slept happily while sunk partially into her pudge. The greatest of changes, however, was still on proud display up above.

Normally, priestesses made sure to keep their Blessings evened out. One year for their busts, another for their wombs, yet a third for their lower bodies, rinse and repeat. But Ven knew better than that; her body was already the image of motherly perfection, her ability to carry young surpassing that of even the greatest of broodmothers. If she truly wanted to stand out and make a difference, really help those in need, then her breasts were the way to go. They alone could feed the hungry and the destitute, provide irrigation for even the driest of lands. Her cream was as mannah, ready to deliver the starving from their troubles and provide the largest bounty they could imagine. It was thanks to her that the Green Fields of Azalia were green at all, and why the famine that struck the eastern hinterlands took precisely zero lives. She was quite proud of that, and though Ven denied it, she couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of satisfaction in her bust as well: truly colossal, enormous to the point where some might call it excessive, needing to be carried on two wheeled pedestals and tended to by a group of initiates, it was large enough that she had issues seeing over it whenever she sat or lied down, and were so full at all points that leakage was a constant concern.

It was thus natural that their field headquarters was established in the exact same spot as one of the wheels broke off and Ven was unfortunately immobilized for the better part of an hour; it was close enough to the city that the cleanup crews and returning citizens could come to them for help, yet far enough away to keep their business separate from everyone else… plus it afforded enough silence during the night that they could sleep properly, milky churning from within Ven’s breasts notwithstanding; most of her entourage and accompanying staff had long-since learned to live with that noise, and some even took refuge underneath her bust to be lulled to sleep by it!

The first order of business when it came to repopulating such immense city centers was to get started on the first litter. It was madness to assume that any one Bearer could do the job all by herself; Ven’s contingent had thirty others of varying degrees of proficiency and experience, and even then they were only expected to fill the place up to half capacity, with the rest being comprised of returned refugees and resettlement efforts from other districts and provinces, most of which would be expected to serve as foster parents for the new children. Nonetheless, it was something they had to get started with immediately, and so they buckled down and got to work the moment their field nurseries were set up.

Along with the detachment of Bearers, their group brought with them a small group of males whose sole purpose was to enable them to fulfill their duties. While most of their kind who joined the priesthood did so with the express intent of serving in the vast, seemingly incomprehensible bureaucracy that made up the backend of their religious service, a few were considered to be blessed enough to serve more directly in the impregnation of the Bearers they accompanied. It was considered to be a prestigious position, and indeed was one that brought with it a myriad of perks and bonuses that few, even the priestesses, had access to. Nonetheless, they were still expected to be up for their assigned role at any given time, for days on end if so required; the strain this placed on their bodies was the price paid for a life lived in relative luxury.

Of course, there were more avenues for breeding than just the usual, and in fact it was considered good etiquette for Ven, or any other priestess in her position, to take generous contributions from those who either lived in the city or planned to do so. Within the first day, she already had a long line of petitioners wanting to make good use of her services, probably unaware of just who they were dealing with. For Ven, it was always a double-edged sword; on the one hand, she was still mortal, still made of flesh, and thus had her desires to take care of. Nowhere in the priesthood’s code was it noted down that the Bearers couldn’t enjoy their job to the fullest extent, and it was in fact quite normal (and, in some chapters, downright encouraged) for them to outwardly express how much pleasure they were feeling at any given moment. It was seen as an incentive, an encouragement to those who might be reticent about resorting to them, to know that they were enjoying the experience about as much as the locals were.

On the other hand, however, it was still a job, and Ven often had to remind her colleagues and fellow priestesses that their main task was to repopulate the disaster area, not serve as a mobile brothel. They were there to perform a service, not let the population experiment with their wild sexual fantasies. This alone led to the priesthood developing a bit of a reputation, one that Ven did not like to think about too much; it was already hard enough going through an endless stream of sex-starved petitioners desperate for a “dommy mommy” to tell them what to do without having to think about the implications of just what that meant.

Nonetheless, the wolf still tried her best to play the part; it was easier to get a contribution from the people in her tent when they were adequately aroused, after all, and though her body alone was more than enough in a vast majority of times, she still ensured her dulcet tones and inviting expression were well-trained enough that she could rely on them if need be. Her days were then spent going through the list, ensuring that she met her weekly quota before directing whoever was left to one of her fellows.

For Ven, delivering a litter had always been easy. On joining the priesthood, she was made aware of how well-adjusted her body was to such a task upon her first assignment, when she gave birth not nine months after impregnation, but seven. Continuous exercise of that particular trait of hers ensured that it was exaggerated and amplified, to the point where, three years down the line and now outside Karena, she could easily deliver a couple of dozen new young every fortnight. Try as she might, Ven never got below that number, though there was very little reason to even try anymore; even the High Priestesses only ever got down to a single month, leaving her without much incentive to push herself beyond what seemed to be a natural limit. Besides, her body’s adjustments to her pregnancies would make going any faster more of a curse than a boon.

It was no secret that her body was highly responsive to successful breedings; she hadn’t always been that enormous, after all, and it seemed that with every litter she successfully delivered, her body refused to shrink down as much as it did before. Some bloating was to be expected; her breasts needed to grow and fill with enough of a bounty to feed not just her pups, but entire cities or population centers, her thighs had to flare out to provide the safest, most comfortable of births, and her ass… well, her ass just kind of got rid of the excedent by taking it into itself, she wasn’t quite certain what was happening there. The point was that after every cycle, she gave herself a couple of days to drain down to a more manageable size, and while it used to be such a thing existed, now it was purely a difference between “big” and “extremely big”.

Ven had made peace with the fact she’d never walk around without help ever again, not unless the priesthood had some kind of hidden blessing where her body itself grew without her assets following it. Walking from place to place by her lonesome was a thing of the past, and she was ok with that; it was a testament to her dedication and service to others, a shining display of what it meant to be a Bearer, and a beacon of hope for anyone caught in a disaster area that, in the end, everything would fine. That said, the wolf would still like to be able to see the outside world without needing to prop herself up with a multitude of girders and pulleys, so the longer she could go without forcing her limits even harder, the better; last thing she needed was to be buried in her own tits, ass or, heavens forbid, both.

Thus, it was normal for her to divvy up her time into monthly chunks, where the first two weeks were dedicated to carrying and delivering a litter, while in the final two she served primarily as a healer; the two complemented one another, as her womb was at its strongest right after it had been “vacated”, plus she still retained enough of her pregnant size and fullness to feed as many as six hundred or more people on a daily basis from each of her breasts. The other Bearers in her group picked up the slack, but seeing as most of them still took a few months to finish their work, it was up to her and the other senior priestesses to do most of the repopulation. And for a city as big as Karena, the effects on her body would be… something.

It had to happen someday. Ven had deliberately sought out the smallest possible assignments, nominally because she wanted some time for herself, in truth because it was the only way to keep helping people that didn’t strand her between several mounds of soft wolf flesh. She wanted to avoid that fate for as long as possible, but now that the priesthood had ordered her to help in that place, there would be no escape. She sighed, her body already showing signs that it was going down a path from which she couldn’t recover barely two months in; two litters amounting to a record-breaking seventy-five pupe, a belly that had taken up her tent, and already her breasts were refusing to drain out, remaining at their “peak” size well into the second healing cycle. She was beginning to worry, actually, seeing as the amount of room in their field nursery was getting drastically cut short by her body alone, and they had other Bearers to worry about! Even worse, her nights were spent not sleeping properly, much too worried about the immense pressure she felt inside of her bosom, her creamy milk pouring out of her head-sized nipples at every moment of every day; whatever happened in the last two pregnancies had done something to her… something even Ven wasn’t sure of what it was.

Nonetheless, she had a job to do, and it wouldn’t be some unforeseen growth spurt that would lead her astray from her duties. Not one to give up even in the face of insurmountable odds, the wolf continued with her regular schedule, welcoming the third month with a brave face, a wide smile, and a non-insignificant amount of dread that she did her best to hide. As usual, the line of petitioners formed outside of her tent, a few having to be turned away due to being repeat visitors; everything seemed to be going just like normal, at least until a couple of hours into the process.

Even someone as fertile as her still had to obey a certain few laws and rules that were, far as she knew, inviolable. Chief among these was that pregnancies tended to take at least a couple of days before they “stuck”, what with all of that donated seed needing time to fertilize all the eggs she produced on a regular basis. In practice, this meant that despite being horribly bloated by so many eager young men wanting to have their turn with her, Ven had time to rest before her body began to produce young. That third month in Karena would come to change all that, because she felt something odd inside of here, something that wasn’t the male visitor whose turn it was to be intimate with her. It was a short sting, something akin to a short pressure crash, and the moment her head put the pieces of the puzzle together, she began sweating bullets.

It was a kick.

Her first instinct was to immediately declare the day’s session to be over so she could panic somewhere far away from prying eyes, but to do so would be to put the entire operation at risk of collapsing; sending all of the people on her waiting list to see one of the other Bearers would put undue stress on them to live up to her quotas, something that wasn’t going to happen any time soon, plus it would make people wonder if the priesthood could really live up to their promises. They were already running late on the repopulation schedule, even if that was mostly the result of backroom negotiations that failed to account for the practicalities in the field, so putting things off even more was likely to incur either the wrath of her superiors or a sternly-worded letter from whoever happened to be in charge of the city. Probably both, now that she thought about it.

But that was definitely a kick Ven felt, confirmed after it happened a few more times a couple of minutes later. Her cheeks blushed a deep crimson when the wolf realized what was happening, her voice turning into a series of strained squeaks as she called up everyone waiting outside. How could it be possible for her next litter to already be forming? She wasn’t even done with the petitioners, much less her late-night fertility rites, so how could it be that her young ones were already developed enough to be kicking her from within? Was it even safe for her to have sex at all, were her suitors hurting or injuring her progeny in any way? The constant movement inside of her seemed to be indicating otherwise, plus a simple communion incantation didn’t reveal any kind of mental or physical distress inside of her womb… though it did show her the extent to which her body had gone out of control.

Ven normally carried fifteen to twenty young with each litter, though occasionally she would spike to about ten or so more. Never less though, not now that her body had been turned into the temple of fertility that it was through intense training and use. Even with her lowest numbers it was still enough to make her belly bloat to an almost obscene degree, pinning her down wherever she happened to be and making it near-impossible for her attendants to clean and clothe her. During her largest pregnancies she had to eschew all trappings altogether, opting instead for a large tarp that covered enough of her to keep the cold away. The two or so days before delivering her litter were the worst, with every inch of her womb occupied by one body or another, enough that the skin on her belly went from perfectly smooth to bumpier than a well-used road, in constant motion as her pups moved about and squirmed between one another. It was enough to drive her crazy and make the wolf remember a few urges she believed her training had gotten rid of; never enough to break her vows, goodness no, but just enough to make her want to do it. This, of course, was for a regular pregnancy.

In that moment of communion, she positively identified fifty pups inside of her, and she still had eggs unfertilized.

Her mind was awash with ideas, none of them coherent and most possessed of a certain degree of abject panic that would do her no good. All Ven could do was breathe as slowly as possible, remembering the breathing exercises taught to her by the higher priestesses for any such occasion she might find herself in need of an emergency cooldown. They weren’t working, and in fact just made her feel even worse thanks to her chest weighing down on her lungs, but at least it was something to do to get her mind off the immense problem growing inside of her; maybe that was the whole point, or maybe she was just beyond salvation. A chance encounter with one of the other Bearers, who happened to be passing by the entrance to her tent, allowed the wolf to signal for her to approach, after which it was a matter of trying to impress upon her the gravity of the situation with as few words as possible; there were still petitioners waiting outside.

The number of backroom assistants and fellow priestesses that began to congregate around her tent was sufficiently high that people began to wonder if things were fine. That they were hurriedly ushered in and told to “perform their duties” as quickly as possible didn’t help with matters, though some of the senior attendants had the initiative to distract with few suitors that yet remained with whatever came to mind. With a couple of her friends to help speed things alone, Ven went through the last people on the list, after which the tent was closed and an emergency meeting was convened.

The wolf made sure to tell the rest of the contingent everything she knew and suspected: from her bust size refusing to go down to the sudden development of young and the abnormal number of pups she was carrying inside of her. Much to her chagrin, the other priestesses in there chose to take it as a sign that Ven was truly blessed by their goddess, and thus their endeavours in Karena were not only right, but truly favoured by her! As much as she wanted to say something about that, the wolf knew better than to contradict a divine proclamation; even if she personally felt it was unwarranted, the last time anyone tried to do that ended in so many rampant curses running around that a second group of Bearers had to be sent in to mop up after the mess made by the first one.

Nonetheless, Ven insisted on keeping herself isolated for the time being, even if it was unlikely that whatever happened to her was contagious; it was better for her sanity to not have a bunch of people constantly asking her if everything was alright or if she needed anything done, or if this or if that… she got enough of that back at the temple and it drove her up the wall more often than not, so now with the added stress of a litter of abnormal proportions, Ven was half a second and a bad comment away from simply losing it completely, especially after it became clearer than ever how fast that pregnancy would progress.

At first, the wolf hoped that it would be done and over with in a few days’ time, that the rate at which she had developed her pups would be translated into a much shorter wait; this seemed to be confirmed by how quickly her belly swelled over the course of the next couple of days, easily reaching her regular “maximum” size without giving her nearly as much time to get ready for it. But as her waters refused to break and the pressure kept building, Ven had to confront herself with the fact that it just wouldn’t be as easy as she would’ve hoped; her body continued to grow, both tits and midriff expanding to meet the demands of this “super” litter she had growing inside of her. Their bust in particular was going through a transformation and a half; it was clear to her then that their refusal to shrink had been a prelude to her body pulling a fast one on her, as it allowed both breasts to inflate with an amount of milk so massive that she had to beg for some of her assistants to drain her. It was the first time in her life that such a thing happened, thus leading to quite a lot of raised eyebrows and flushed cheeks when the pails had to be brought out.

And yet, those things still weren’t the biggest distraction. Her fur was stretched, her skin made taut, her belly groaning as it struggled to keep up with the sudden demand for more room. Her womb was brought to the breaking point and beyond, yet refused to budge, simply enlarging as much as it needed to for the sake of the little ones inside of it. She could feel them moving around, and after a few days, she could see them as well; bumps on her belly that moved from spot to spot, travelling along the surface of it before descending into the depths, only to be replaced with two more. Their movements were enough to keep her perpetually on the edge, but Ven made sure never to succumb to that particular need; it was unbecoming for a priestess of her station, and besides, it’d… do things to her. Things she wouldn’t be able to resist the influence of.

A full week went by before she dared to admit to herself that things were not fine. She was filling her tent so much that the few people in charge of keeping her fed had to very carefully skirt the edges just to get close enough to her, and it wasn’t just her front anymore; with so many pups to deliver, her ass and thighs had fattened and widened so much she was now using them as her own personal couch, seeing as nothing in their possession would be able to hold so much weight and not break in half. Her cheeks made for a surprisingly comfortable seat, all things considered; though the wolf was somewhat sore from the pressure of it all, her ass still kept a certain level of pudginess that allowed her to rub along the ground whenever she needed to readjust herself, and not feel like she was scratching an overinflated balloon, as was the case with the colossal weight slung out in front of her.

The heat in the tent, too, began to rise, making it practically impossible to even stay there if not for the dedicated team of assistants that had taken it upon themselves to keep it as well-ventilated as possible. Fans, both electrical, magical and manual, not to mention opening as many flaps in the fabric as they could without exposing her body to the elements or unwanted gazes. Not that Ven cared that much; her mind was somewhere far away, detached from her physical self and adrift in a hazy sea of motherly love and copious amounts of unexplainable lust. It wasn’t even her size anymore, but the sheer glory of motherhood that was starting to work for her. Poor Ven rubbed her legs against one another, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy the aching need she had for something… more. Something that could help prolong the pregnancy, something to make it even grander in scale. She dared not verbalize any of those desires, lest anyone start to think her priorities had shifted, but in those few brief moments where no one was around her, when no ears were present to hear, she allowed her throat to moan and beg for certain things that were best left unsaid.

Days passed and it didn’t get any better. Ven had hoped the pressure would fade, or at least her brain would start to tune it out, but it just kept getting worse. It mounted higher and higher, right up until she felt her popped-out belly button touch the far end of the tent… at which point the crowd of attendants decided that enough was enough, a line had been crossed, and it was better for everyone to be able to see her instead of potentially threatening the well-being of the biggest litter of the operation so far. Ven didn’t even have her weak protestations to fall on anymore; she was too far gone to put up any resistance whatsoever, and in fact welcomed the change. The better for her body to be seen and admired as the symbol of fertility that it was, that all might look upon it and know that, in the end, everything would be fine.

By the end of the second week, they had started to get their first noise complaints. The wolf’s breasts had to be hooked to a series of pumps whenever they needed draining, pumps that were loud enough that whenever they were busy draining gallons of milk each second at their very lowest, people around her had to wear cloth on their ears just to be able to hear themselves think. Her belly too began to complain ever so loudly, especially towards the end when her pups reached their fully-developed size and began poking at the exit. This was to say nothing of Ven’s voice, which had cracked from the amount of use and been reduced to a series of squeaking sounds that just barely resembled words. The biggest Bearer in the priesthood had finally met her match, and now that her time was up, all she could think about was how much of a disappointment it was for that to be the end. She didn’t want it to be over, didn’t want it to end. 

And that’s when it came to her: it didn’t have to end. It would… pause. Just pause, yeah. Sure, her belly would shrink, as would her breasts unfortunately, but in a couple of weeks’ time, she’d be right back at it again! 

And who knew, maybe she would grow to be even larger...