Juicy July day 5: intensity (Patreon)

(alternative title: Blissenthorn manor , the cider decider.)

It was but another day for Florence working as a juice maid. It wasn’t taxing work, she simply had to sit on the spot all day on her massive rounded body. She was permanently filled to the brim with soft apple cider for her boss Sir Blissenthorn to drink at his whim. It was a distressing time at first, having body change to become nothing much more than a glorified juice producer. But compared to the ewe’s previous maid jobs , at least it was easy. Sure, her belly ached with fullness, and her hours where spent rocking on the spot with only other housemaids , who where often very gentle when milking her for the cider. She over heard all the conversations, or at least what was audible over her gurgling and groaning body.

It was on one evening she began hearing talk of a large dinner that evening. Something about important trade routes and train tracks. She didn’t catch much , it was very hush hush between the maids. That was until everything went dead silent other than a set of hard heavy footsteps. It only meant one thing... Sir Blissenthorn was coming back into the staff rooms. Florence nervously looked around for him , until his looming shadow came over her. Even swollen up to over six foot tall, the eight foot five dragon towered over her. The scrawny hare Mr Flaine on his side as he usual was. The two both where looking right at her. “You sure you want hard cider sir? This one will be alcoholic for the next year if you do , and you are partial to a soft cider in the morning.” Mr Flaine pointed out.

Blissenthorn came over and grabbed Florence by the jaw, examining her. “This is a fine stock, it will be able to take the pressure. I can always find a ... temporary hire to replace it for the now. Pour in the yeast and have it brought to the dining room. And...do be careful. I don’t want my drinks spilled, and it’s going to get very tight.” He commanded, before walking off, his smile grim. The Hare took something out of his pocket and brought it to Florence’s lips. “open your mouth miss. It wont taste nice... “ as he said this, a fowl powder filled Florence’s mouth , making her desperately swallow to get it out. Unfortunately the second she did , she started feeling an intense bubbling sensation within her gallons of juice. Before she could process what was happening, her already swollen body began to grow.

Her hands and feet, the few parts of her that had been spared the cider the first time, had now began to grow just a little , as the flesh around them begins to bulge over. Her divots where growing deeper, especially the one developing around her head. She already felt so tight, so full, but now she was filling with air too as the cider fermented. Her skin got tighter , no longer as bouncy as it had been. To make matter worse , Flaine put his hands on her and began to roll her along. This only made the gasses inside of her double in intensity as she was shook up and around. The only saving grace was that as the cider turned alcoholic, some amount of it was absorbed into her, slowly making the sheep dazed. It at least dulled the unpleasant sharpness of her taut skin stretching.

She kept growing as she was rolled. Her hands and feet now reduced to the tips of her fingers and toes still pointed out. Her head had sunken down , pushing her snout up. Florence could see her green body slowly creeping to fill her entire peripheral vision. She could only whimper ,yet she held that back best as she could. She didn’t want to displease Blissenthorn, and while he might not be there, Flaine did report everything he hears and sees to him. One housemaid badmouthed Blissenthorn...and the next gala there was a weirdly round cake being served to everyone. There was the small safety in that her growing body was shutting Florence’s mouth tightly ,keeping her quite.

Into the grand gala hall she was rolled , where there was a large brass semi-sphere with “Apple cider” upon a small plaque. Florence could see it as she was rolled towards it. Blissenthorn saw her arrive and admired her size. “that will certainly keep my guests quenched for the whole event. Flaine...check the quality of the cider and get it set up if it’s quality.” He commanded. The hares hands came down and daoped a small amount of the leaking cider from her lips before tasting it. “Tis of fine quality sir!” he announced. Florence thought he was about to roll her further yet instead he pulled a small lever next to the brass contraption. Within a short second, the bucket raised into the air before being suspended over her. It lowered around her, a hose build into it’s base pushed itself snuggly into her rear before it suddenly snapped back to it’s starting position, bringing Florence with it.


Now in Place, Florence did her best to get used to the constant flow of bubbles inside of her...a year like this? It frightened her a little...but she hoped that the parties would drain some of the intense pressure within her.