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Patreon Reward: Shamir's Marital Bliss
🕑 Added 2024-11-01 16:24:09 +0000 UTCThis story features Shamir having become a doting and exceedingly soft mother of two after marrying Byleth!
Shamir sat on the edge of her bed, her wide, plush rump pushing down against the expensive feather down mattress. Her infant son Valio suckled eagerly at her milk-engorged, stretch marked, vein-shot breast. “That’s a good boy...” Shamir cooed, shutting her eyes and letting out a long, luxuriant sigh. Since their marriage, both she and Byleth had given up their old professions, settling down in a comfortable villa not far from Garreg Mach. Valio unlatched himself from Shamir’s swollen nipple, his purple eyes closing as he drifted to sleep.
Shamir rose from her bed with a grunt, her ample, flabby, hourglass-shaped curves stretching her sheer white nightgown. The copious excess flesh of her figure quaked as she waddled over to the crib and set her child down to nap. Shamir approached her floor length mirror and examined her curves with a sigh. “I’ve broadened again...” she muttered, smiling exasperatedly at her reflection as her fingertips glided down the long journey from the side of one of her thick love handles to her mid-thigh. Out of curiosity, she slid out the bottom drawer of her dresser and pulled out her old combat and scouting leathers. Holding them up, she saw that a single thigh now eclipsed its waistline. She turned, examining the full, callipygian jut her heart-shaped buttocks had developed and comparing it to the slender profile of her old set of pants.
“My...” she scoffed, shaking her head good naturedly and putting her palm to her plush cheek. “Just look at what motherhood’s done to you, Shamir...” It was as if her marriage with Byleth had smoothed away the rough edges of her personality, allowing a wellspring of doting tenderness to gush free. Shamir pulled off her nightgown and examined her pale, stretch-marked body in the mirror, lifting the gently drooping curve of her belly before weighing her mammoth breasts in her hands. Shamir blew air out of her nose in exasperation as she studied her massive chest. “Couldn’t fire a bow if I tried with these...” She examined her hands; they were puffy and soft, devoid of the callouses she’d built up through years of archery. Letting out a long, wistful, happy sigh, Shamir put on her underclothes, noting that it was time to go up another size as her brassiere hiked her breasts up into a compressed, dense cleavage valley.
“Now...what to wear!” Wiggling her plump fingers, Shamir chose an emerald-dyed dress with a long hemline and pulled it on. She went back to her dresser and began powdering her face; she had never worn makeup as a mercenary, but lately she couldn’t imagine leaving her quarters without it. She put on a gentle amount of blush and purple eyeshadow before beginning the long process of adorning herself with jewelry. She hooked ostentatious opal earrings on, then a glittering double-chained diamond and pearl necklace. She oiled her doughy fingers and slipped on a multitude of glittering rings, followed by a pair of gold, emerald-encrusted bracelets that were beginning to grow tight on her softening wrists.
Shamir picked up her silver hair brush and began stroking away her bedhead. Her once short and practically cut hairstyle had grown out into a hip-length stream of violet locks. Shamir grinned at her reflection, admiring how silky and smooth her hair had become now that it was treated with herbal products every day. She chose her perfume for the day, a flowery, aquatic fragrance that she’d grown to adore since Byleth had brought it back from the market for her. “Worlds better than smelling of dirt and sweat,” Shamir reminded herself as she spritzed it onto her neck. Finally, she squeezed her soft feet into a set of regal high heels. A growl from her stomach urged her out the door of her room; from the delectable smell wafting through the hallway, it was clear her servants had already begun cooking breakfast.
“Byleth must be out shopping in town...” Shamir noted, waddling heftily down the steps, exhaling sharp, somewhat labored breaths. Each step titled her jutting bottom through her dress, making it rock to and fro within the tight, expensive green fabric.
“Mother!” exclaimed Yava, her four year old daughter. The blue-haired girl leapt from her seat and scurried over to her mother, who bent down to embrace her, a thick belly roll forming against her dress.
“Is it time to eat, dearest?” Shamir asked with a saccharine tone, running her hair through her oldest child’s hair.
“Very soon!” Yava answered, pressing her head against her mother’s pillowy bosom and wrapping her hands partway around her fatted waist.
“Good, because your mother is very hungry,” she giggled, planting a loving kiss on her daughter’s cheek.
She pulled up a pair of dining chairs for herself and settled her expansive rump down onto them. Their wooden frames creaked gently beneath her weight.
“Once we’ve eaten, we’ll take a stroll in the gardens, how about that?” Shamir asked her daughter before taking a gulp of sugary fruit juice that had been freshly squeezed for breakfast.
“Sure!” her daughter answered happily.
A sumptuous spread of breakfast food was carried out into the dining room over the next few minutes. Heaps of griddle cakes drenched in fruit syrup and butter, honeyed and sugared baked peaches, thick cuts of sizzling bacon, and battered bread were all present. Shamir briskly ate through her first course, then her second, daintily patting her lips as they became marred with grease and syrup. “It’s as if each meal you all prepare is the best I’ve ever tasted!” Shamir gushed. Small wonder Byleth and I have grown so much! she thought. The former mercenary brought her napkin to her mouth as her cheeks puffed outward in a sudden, voluminous belch. “Phew! Excuse mommy, dearest,” she gasped to Yava, fanning her warming face in embarrassment.
“Take your time eating, dear, then we’ll go outside for a bit.” Shamir said, watching her daughter fork a bite of pancake into her mouth. “I suppose I could have a little more while you finish...” she said eagerly, reaching out to grab the serving fork once more.
