This story contains characters with already large boobs getting even bigger as they fill with milk.
If that is something that you do not like, I would advise against reading this.
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"It is said that, in the beginning, the divine was one omnipotent being..."
Krys tuned out of what the snow-bearded monk was saying. After the third hour of their walking tour she was thoroughly done. At first, the older man had been ever so nice, bringing her breakfast with the dawn, but when he saw her, she knew he was going to be trouble. There was a certain twinkle in his eyes as he could not tear his gaze away from her chest. He had been even more gracious after that, his hospitality extended to taking her traveling gear under the auspices of washing it. He even gave her new robes! Robes that were obviously too small even though they brushed the floor when she held them in front of her.
While it was true that women built like her tended to become wives and mothers, not priestesses, she felt that surely there had to be something larger. He apologized profusely that he was unable to find anything.
As such, her wide hips and considerable endowments ate up inches of fabric, raising the robe's bottom hem from sweeping on the floor to a considerable distance up her legs. It hung just below her knees, baring the dark tan skin or her calves and ankles. It was not like she had a lot of leg either, she barely came up to the monk's shoulder. Most of her growth had been out, not up.
At first the enjoyment of seeing the largest temple in the province, won over her sullen feelings, but as the day went on she spent more and more time tugging the v-neck collar together in the hopes of obscuring her bandage wrapped cleavage. Doing so too much only forced the already tight garment to further constrict her legs and make her bust jiggle as she struggled to keep up with her taller guide. Trying to get slack in other places meant she was almost falling out up top. She had settled for playing with her thick, black braid and using that to obscure most of her chest.
Even if she had been comfortable with the robe's v-neck collar constantly being pushed wider as her wrap slipped further with each passing minute, the information the bearded monk was continuing to spout happened to be trivial. She knew every word, of every version, of the Story of Origin. It was a hazard of being the adopted daughter of clergy from another Crystal Shrine. There were not that many divine inspired bedtime stories after all.
When it had not been myths of creation that she fell asleep to, it was history. Stories about the Beginnings of Witches were common tales the realm over. From here in Khaladstan all the way to the far removed Northern Wastes, many young girls grew up with the dream of finding a shard of their own and becoming a witch. She certainly did.
Above all that, the temple's vast crystal was far more pleasant to listen to. The sound of the spell song swirled around her like the melody from hundreds of tiny wind chimes. As if thinking about it encouraged the song, the soft, persistent chimes grew brighter and she felt her gaze rise to look at the pinnacle of the shrine.
The witch crystal of Alannathea was even larger than the crystalline pillar back home. It was so vast that at all times of the day, its translucent shadow loomed over a part of the teeming city built around the wide hill in which it was buried. She closed her eyes as the music wrapped around her. For a moment everything was perfect.
"Are you listening, dear? I asked if you wanted to eat before evening meditation."
"Oh, yes please."
He nodded curtly, his gaze once more traveling down to her barely contained bust before rapidly moving elsewhere. Krys bit her lip, but said nothing.
She was begrudgingly used to the reaction, but it was also part of why she had left home. She had bloomed early, becoming a maiden almost over night. Thanks to living in the temple, she avoided most of the unpleasantness aimed at girls who became young women early. Once since she had come of legal age to wed however, the world had come looking for her. Many artisan's first sons had flooded the temple to fight for her attentions. When she had given a few of them a chance, they had been jerks when alone with her. Their hands always hovering and touching, a hunger evident on their faces.
She had thought those focused on communing with raw feminine energy would be a little less obsessed with her figure. It seemed however, that men would be men regardless of self-discipline.
"Goddess within, give me strength..." she said under her breath as she continued to fight her outfit for some amount of modesty.
She followed the older man's lead to a hall where many others knelt before simple tables with simple meals. It seemed dinner tonight was a bowl of rice mixed with chopped onion and carrot, along with two fried eggs and a couple slices of cheese. It was fare she was used to and it made her think of home.
She picked up a tray and got behind others who had arrived before her. As she moved down the line, she was aware of the flicking glances, the whispered conversations. She was handed her plate by an older woman with long braids of silver hair and a necklace of wide wooden beads. The senior priestess gave her an appraising glance and rolled her eyes. Krys inhaled to say something, her temper starting to get the best of her as sure she was about to be judged for her appearance, when the lady smiled instead.
"Stop by later, little bird. I think I have a robe that might fit you a bit better."
Caught in a wave of surprise and irritation, Krys thanked her as she felt warmth she had not experienced since she left home. Stepping carefully around those already eating, the junior priestess finally secured a seat near the window. She knelt on the simple pillow and set her tray on a short table. As she whispered thanks, her gaze was drawn once more to the pillar of crystal at the heart of the shrine.
"It's beautiful to look at, isn't it," said a feminine voice from her right. She turned and was faced with a very big woman who was smiling widely, as if life itself was indescribably pleasant. Something about the woman made the word aunt come to mind, though Krys could not put her finger on why.
She was heavy set, but in a bulky kind of way. Combined with her height, she looked like she could probably wrestle livestock into their pens. Her hair was a shocking light blue hue and was pulled into a braid she had looped around her neck. Even more striking was her bright skin tone. Unlike many in the hall, she was dressed in clothes meant for the road. A hooded cape was still around her shoulders and it shrouded most of her form. Krys unconsciously tugged at her robes as she felt a pang of jealousy.
"The song it sings is so much better," she added with a wink of a brilliant amber eye before turning back to her food.
Krys' jaw dropped as she glanced between to woman and the crystal. Back home, no one, not even her parents, could hear the soft, but ever present chiming of their shrine's Witch Crystal. "You can hear the spell song?"
"Of course, dearie. What kind of witch would I be if I couldn't hear the song of a spell?"
"You're an actual witch?" Krys asked, her voice rising.
The woman shushed her and she felt a heat spread up her cheeks. The apparent witch did nod however as she put down her empty bowl.
"Sorry," the young woman said as she turned back to her own meal. "I just—that is, I've never met a witch. They're rare in this part of the realm."
"Even during the golden age, my sisters were uncommon in this province. History had proven that witches trying to claim power here only resulted in disaster."
"What happened?" Krys asked before biting into a slab of cheese.
