Ghislaine/Mirko Bodyguards (Patreon)

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The train produced a constant, yet distant chugging sound. The various passenger carts jostled occasionally, but the ride felt surprisingly smooth once one adjusted to it. The window’s persistent rattle proved more difficult to ignore, though.

Alas, it was average for travel by rail. You had gotten used to the better and worst of it over your years as a merchant. There was just something about traveling by train that exhilarated you! It was a status symbol, especially if you had a personal car!

You did…but unfortunately, it was not attached to this train. Usually, the first-class suites were just as good, but you hadn’t even afforded that comfort. You had settled for a mid-class private room. That was passable at best, but some matters made it hardly tolerable.

The reason you lowered your standards for this trip was because you were somewhat…hiding. Lying low for the time being was what you told your colleagues before dropping off the map. An older business dealing had turned up, one from your younger years when you were a firecracker. Yes, well, the ones who had been on the losing end of that deal remembered you. A meeting with prospective clients turned out to be a trap, and you narrowly escaped a bullet with your name on it.

Along with a dozen others, laced with profanity and bloodlust.

So, you opted for a small private room in a more public area of the train. It had a soft bench for seating, enough room to stand and pace about, a bed that would be set up by the staff after dinner, and plenty of cupboard space for your luggage. Again, that would be tolerable. Stress made you long for finer comforts, but you knew the dead hardly savored anything.

The issue that tilted the scales toward unbearable was the passengers you shared this room with. They were hired bodyguards with incredible resumes. You spared no expense on that part, certainly.

Ghislaine Dedoldia, a master swordswoman from a race of cat people that lived in a distant forest. She had deeply tanned skin marred only by a pale scar over her stomach. Her hair was grey, long, and shaggy, with two cat ears emerging from the top. Her state of dress was…less than modest. A coat was slung over her shoulder, but she wore no shirt. Instead, there was some type of leather strap that covered the middle of her breasts and not much else. She wore olive green trousers that clearly showed wear of use. The other noticeable thing about her was the eyepatch over her right eye. A swordswoman who excelled while lacking half their vision had to be capable, you had thought.

The other was Rumi Usagiyama, though she was often referred to as Mirko. This woman had perky, white rabbit ears that emerged from a head of long, straight white hair. She was from some far-off land you often heard of but had never visited. She was similarly tanned as Ghislaine, but she wore more clothing.

Not a full set of clothing, but more clothing, still.

It mostly consisted of a white leotard with a fluffy collar around her neck. It was trimmed in blue and was styled without sleeves. Her thighs were exposed to the middle, while her hips were fully visible. She had purple stockings that clung to her legs like a second skin.

Rumors of their exploits made you think of them as indomitable warriors. Their price seemed well worth it for your safety. You had submitted their usual fee plus an extra amount to the guild and asked to set off with them as soon as possible.

You only waited a few hours before meeting…them.

They were not what you imagined. Their appearances were as you described them, exactly as you had seen on information sheets supplied by the guild. The illustrations must have been severely outdated, because you were not greeted by two muscular warrior women. You instead saw two morbidly obese women…who looked like they hadn’t seen battle in years.

Ghislaine no longer had her sculpted musculature. She was now flabby and shaped like an apple. Those striking features of her face were now soft and rounded, an extra chin waggling as she had approached you. Sword-wielding arms were buried in a thick layer of blubber from her shoulder to her wrist. Her chest had seemed large, but now it was overly so. Each breast was larger than her head and bulged around her meager clothing. From there, her belly was entirely exposed. It was folded in a double belly with a deep roll over her belly button. The mass of fat seemed wider than her shoulders, the lower roll slightly wider than the mounding fat above it. Those olive pants also looked ready to burst around thighs as broad as your shoulders.

Mirko looked the same weight as Ghislaine, but her mass was shifted lower. Her arms weren’t as soft and padded, but there was hardly any muscle to be seen. Similarly, her face wasn’t as soft nor round, but that didn’t mean it matched her old visage. Her chest was full, larger than most you had seen, but not as large as her head. Her belly was squeezed tightly by her leotard, but you could see that it was mostly round and failed to eclipse her hips. Still, she had love handles larger than your palms could handle…if you desired to do so. Her hips flared out the most of her body. They matched half of your height from end to end and were visibly soft. They bounced and wobbled with the woman’s steps. Her thighs were wider than your shoulders, beating Ghislaine’s. They were also easier to observe. The tanned skin was wrapped around gelatinous fat that wiggled as each leg brushed against the other. They hardly thinned down to her knee, then gradually narrowed at her ankles.

You had wanted to cancel the job then, but it would have involved a fee. Your train was set to depart soon, and you never knew when trouble would emerge. You had no other choice but to bring them along.

That brought you to the present. You were sandwiched between the two on the only seating your room offered. One or both of them could have shared the bench with no real issue. There would hardly be space to adjust, but there would be a gap between them. With all three of you seated, that gap was filled by you.

You were being squeezed on your left and right. Ghislaine from hip to shoulder, and Mirko from hip to the middle of your torso. You had some space for that right arm, but you kept it tucked to your chest. Things were awkward as is, so you didn’t want to rest it against Mirko. However, the occasional bump caused your arm to collide with her side. Once, even nudging the bunny woman’s breast.

‘I should have let those ruffians do me in.’ You thought.

You kept the statement within your head. You weren’t the only one with an ill mood.

Mirko had her head propped in one hand. She muttered and growled under her breath every time the train rocked and jostled her. Any motion from the train sent jiggles through her and Ghislaine. Those movements were transferred between each other, too.

“Can’t believe we’re cramped in this small room,” Mirko grumbled and glanced at you. “I thought the rich types traveled in style.”

“When we aren’t actively being threatened…” You murmured.

Ghislaine glanced at Mirko. “You shouldn’t say that to our employer.” She tut-tutted the younger(?) woman. “If he traveled all flashy, then he’d be an easier target. That makes our job harder, too.” She reached forward and grabbed a cut of salmon from a nearby plate. “The room might be cramped, but our boss is generous with our meal allowance.” She tossed the fish into her mouth.

“All the incentive to keep me alive.” You murmured, not speaking any louder. ‘The food is high quality, but not unaffordable. We’ve called for service over nine times, and it’s still only a drop compared to their fee.’ You thought, but still sighed.

‘I just hope they won’t be too stuffed to save me if the need arises.’ You thought and tried to stand.

Ghislaine latched onto your arm and pulled you back down. “Easy, boss. You’re safest when you’re between us. The door to our room has a window. Someone could walk by and spot you. Probably go ahead and take a shot while they’re at it.”

“An…astute observation.” You said, a quaver in your voice. Ghislaine had unintentionally pulled you so your head rested on her right breast. Her skin was so warm, and the fat beneath was equally soft. Your torso had also twisted, so the side of her belly pressed against it. More warmth and softness assailed your senses, stirring desires you had been previously unaware of.

Mirko clicked her tongue. Your shifted position pressed your hip against hers. She could feel how your skinny form easily sank into her corpulent one. “She’s got a point. You’re harder to see squished between us. Best part of a skinny client is there’s less body to guard.” Her expression twisted with thought. “And I suppose you’re easier to deal with than the flashier nobles and rich punks.”

Things continued like that for a while.

Mirko had become more talkative at least. Whether she was bored or warming up to you was hard to tell, though.

“We come up to the turned-over wagon.” Mirko had started. “You could see signs of an earlier scuffle, but there was no one in sight. I was about to flip the wagon back on its wheels when eight bandits jumped from the bushes.” She smirked, making sure you were paying attention. “I kicked the first one so hard he knocked two of his buddies over. The fourth guy had terrible form. I swept his legs out from under him, body slammed him, and got up in time to roundhouse kick the fifth guy.”

“And what happened with the other three?” You asked, somewhat paying attention. You were a merchant, so you tended to keep track of numbers.

“I cut them down. Two in one strike, dashed to stab the third.” Ghislaine said. You noticed she wasn’t paying as close attention. Her cat ears were twitching a lot, though.

“Hmm, and was this before or-“ You started.

“This was two months ago!” Mirko said, nudging you with her shoulder. She didn’t seem to care or realize that her belly smooshed against your side during this. “I said that at the start. Were you paying attention?”

“I have a lot on my mind, thank you!” You responded. You had been stuck on the bench for hours, so you were feeling a little catty. Although not enough to say more than you had. Part of you had come to like how soft and warm the women were.

“Someone’s coming,” Ghislaine said and stood with surprising speed. The movement was swift and fluid, but it caused her gut to bounce and jiggle. One foot planted firmly, while the other slid in an equally graceful motion. Her stance was wide and stable. The hilt of her sword was tucked in the fold of her double belly. One hand was ready to draw, the other steadied the scabbard.

Mirko didn’t get up, but she shifted to the left just as quickly. This put the woman right on your lap. Once upon a time, you had been trapped under a heavy wardrobe that fell over. Mirko’s weight reminded you of it, but the soft texture was more welcoming than the rigid wood.

You were still pinned in place, though. Mirko was so heavy that you couldn’t shift your legs a single inch. She leaned back firmly, pressing her back fat against your chest. This likewise kept you from shifting your torso.

“Arms in, rich boy,” Mirko said as she looped her arms around you before tucking them to her sides. It wasn’t perfect, but she had mostly hidden your body.

You managed to look over Mirko’s shoulder. Ghislaine had shifted toward the door. ‘She’s broader at the shoulders. She’ll block the window’s view. Mirko covering me must be extra insurance.’ You thought and blushed. ‘And it’s even more smothering than earlier.’

Ghislaine suddenly relaxed and opened the door. A small bell jingled as it did.

“Hello, I’ve brought the items you ordered.” A soft, feminine voice sounded. It was the same waitress who had tended to you that day. The one who had to be tired of constantly carting food and drinks to you. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

Ghislaine glanced back at you. You shook your head. “No, we’re fine. We’ll probably order more food closer to dinner, and uh.” She looked at you again. You held up five and then three fingers. “We’ll want the bed set up around eight. That should do it.”

“Very well, thank you for your patronage.” The waitress said before leaving.

Mirko shifted off of you, and Ghislaine reclaimed her earlier seat. Thus, you were sandwiched again. “That reminds me. What will we be doing about sleeping arrangements?” You asked as you tried to gain a semblance of comfort.

“Mirko and I will take shifts. Whoever isn’t on watch will bunk up with you.” Ghislaine responded.

“Yeah, it’ll be cramped, but one of us and you should fit,” Mirko said as she leaned back. “It’ll be comfier than this bench, hopefully.”

You sighed. Even your nightly rest would be short on space. It might be…nice. That remained to be seen. Sleeping with one of the women at a time might be akin to snuggling. You couldn’t help but think your sleeping partner might roll atop you. Your legs had just regained their feeling from Mirko sitting on them. ‘Well, it’s better than being shot.’

——

‘Perhaps I was wrong.’ You thought as you stared at the ceiling with bleary eyes. The private room had become stuffier as the evening went on, but shedding the covers wasn’t enough to alleviate the swelter.

Not much else could be done. Your position on the small bed was limited. Even getting up to pace was out of the question.

To your left was Ghislaine. From the sound of her steady breaths, she was deep asleep. Her arms wrapped around you and held with surprising force. Each arm was soft and plump, but their hold was like iron. Any attempt to move triggered some sort of instinct, and she would hold you tighter. You would have suffocated if her grip didn’t relax seconds later.

Her breasts swallowed your left shoulder, the fat reaching your jawline as her warm breath graced your neck. The flabby mass of her belly squished against your side. Some flab managed to roll over onto your stomach. Even if it was a meager portion of Ghislaine’s stomach, the weight was evident.

You closed your eyes and couldn’t help but clench your teeth. The heat was bearable despite its unpleasantness. It was a myriad of other feelings that truly kept you awake. So much soft fat being pressed to your body stirred you. A distant whisper in your mind demanded you roll to face Ghislaine. An echoing chorus daring you to squeeze her flab within your hands, to nestle your face against her chest.

You did your best to ignore them. Your contract with Ghislaine was one of protection. Yes, other merchants boasted of heated nights of passion with hired guards, but most agreed they were always drunken boasts. There were stipulations and regulations to PREVENT such acts.

…But still.

Ghislaine was strikingly beautiful, and her robust body had you enchanted. Would it be so wrong to grab one handful of her belly? To squeeze and roll the tanned flab between your fingers? Dare you nuzzle your face closer to the overtly ample chest next to it?

You didn’t have the chance to act.

“Switch,” Mirko said.

Ghislaine’s eyes opened so quickly it startled you. Her arms released around you, and she began to climb over you.

Ghislaine momentarily straddled you. Her thighs sandwiched your torso between them, and her belly splayed over your chest. Your heart threatened to leap from your chest, and your face surely flushed.

It was natural that so much heat, weight, and softness over your waist would stir a reaction. Ghislaine didn’t seem to notice. She lingered only because it was difficult to move her bulk. For you, that meant your lower body was put through a test of patience.

Every detail recorded itself in your mind. The thickness of each thigh at your side, the sheer heft of Ghislaine, the pressure of her rump atop your upper thighs. Your hands twitched and involuntarily flexed, begging to grip Ghislaine by the waist and-

The bed groaned as Ghislaine managed to pivot and rise from the bed. She slipped past Mirko and stood in front of the door.

Mirko and Ghislaine’s movement allowed a brief sliver of light from the hallway into the room. That whisked away any adapting to the dark your eyes had done. Now you could barely make out Mirko’s shape. The vaguest silhouette of her broad hips was discernible before your body was rolled.

“Make some room,” Mirko said as she effortlessly rolled you.

You tried to adjust and scoot away before the bed groaned and two broad, meaty masses slammed against your abdomen.

Mirko had rolled onto the bed, and her butt bumped roughly against you. She was able to push you back with ease, but your arm had gotten stuck under it. The limb was sandwiched between what you assumed was her love handle and hip. Somehow you had been shifted lower on the mattress. Your feet dangled over the edge, and Mirk’s rump was pressed against the space between your stomach and ribs. Your face was squished against her back fat, your legs were sandwiched between her powerful thighs, and your back was pressed against the inner wall of the train.

‘How the hell is she ok with this position?!’ You thought.

In the quiet, you heard steady breathing. It was different in tone to Ghislaine’s, and it was in sync with subtle movement in Mirko’s body.

‘She’s asleep already?’ You ruminated for a moment. It wasn’t odd that trained mercenaries, those used to sleeping in shifts, had devised ways to rise from and fall into sleep quickly.

That also meant you were stuck in a precarious position until the next change of guard. You sighed softly. You were reminded of the heat, and the emotions stirred from Ghislaine were just as fervent as with Mirko.

Goodness, her lower body was stacked. The butt was egregiously thick and offensively soft. You had met noble ladies, spoiled without end, who didn’t have figures as endowed. New orders from that hazy corner of your mind cried out that you should nibble the fat before you. Others speaking with words dripping with charismatic mirth that you should shift your body higher so your hips might press against Mirko’s.

You might have relented. The only grounding source you had was the cool wood of the train wall. You focused on that and only that. Morning would come soon, the change of guard sooner than that. You would make sure to remain against this wall. Ghislaine might hold you again, but she won’t have to climb over you.

‘Calm, remain calm…Your worry should be surviving the trip, not fooling around with these two egregiously sexy obese women!’ Your internal monologue devolved into harsh, strained ramblings. You clenched your fists, ignoring how both were centimeters from delightful handfuls of fat.

—PROOFREAD AND EDIT ABOVE—

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