#so a beautiful young woman takes the next tax offering to the castle and demands to be let in

[scriberat]

ok so like. beauty and the beast

castle is within walking distance apparently, and it has a path. given that, the castle was the ruling point for this hamlet???

did no one question the sudden lack of taxes? where is the castle food coming from?

wait. i think i get it

taxes and food still get dropped off, but the new master of the castle is known to be... unwelcoming, so at most it's left at the gate and the one dropping it off skedaddles quick.

also explains why everyone knew where to go

[greatbigbellies]

Born Too Large

This was meant to be kinky, but spiraled out of proportion as I wrote, and the belly only comes in at the end. But I wanted a wholesome relationship so…

Ever since birth, she was an outcast, a freak, a giant. At 10 years old, she was already taller and stronger than all the men in the village, including her father, who bitterly blamed her for her mother’s death in childbirth. None of the other kids wanted to play with her; she was an unfair advantage in team games, and even when she proposed that they all take her on, no one was brave enough. So it was that she resigned herself to duty and chores, routinely doing the work of three men, which only made them more jealous and resentful, until one day a royal knight was passing through and beheld the young giantess, and impressed with her size and strength, offered to take her away from this humdrum backwater and put her gifts to use in the king’s army. With no lost love, she left her home behind and joined the knight’s entourage.

She became his squire, and in time she was taught the ways of war. Fully grown, she stood at eye level with a man on horseback. She needed custom made armor, and her sword was too heavy for anyone else to lift, let alone swing. It needed no edge; the sheer weight of it was enough to crush a man’s breastplate. Her strength became a thing of legend; impossible to miss on the battlefield, the mere sight of her set soldiers on the run, which she was fine with–she never much liked killing; it felt too much like bullying. And although her reputation grew, she still heard the hateful words behind her back, the subtle ridicule and quiet envy, of how she stole all the glory. At this point, her heart is hardened and the words don’t hurt her much anymore, but she’s still no happier, in spite of the accolades and glories she’s won in the king’s service. But it’s not all bad. Her closest friend among the knights is eternally grateful, after she saved his life on the battlefield by lifting the horse that had fallen on him, even when the doctors pronounced he would never walk again. And sometimes, she blushes when the maidens compliment her.

This continues until an enemy kingdom, fearful of her strength, sought to remove her from the picture. She’s lured into a trap in a remote corner of the kingdom, and as she passed over a bridge over a ravine, the bridge supports were destroyed, and she fell a great height, bouncing on the rocks and plunging into the river below. She should have died, but her armor protected her, and she drifted downriver, unconscious.

When she next awoke, she found herself in a cramped bed, dressed in bandages, aching all over. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe. Then a small man (every man was small) appeared in the doorway, and nearly dropped the bowl of soup he was coming to give her. She was awake at last! He explained that he was a fisherman, and that found her washed ashore on the banks; and after getting some help, they carried her to safety, peeled away the armor, and addressed her wounds. It was up in the air whether she’d make it or not; after all, she’d been asleep for a week. She stresses that she must return to the king’s service, but she wasn’t in the shape to go anywhere. The fisherman gently pushes her back down, and for the first time she can remember, she’s not strong enough to resist. She needed to rest and heal, he insisted, or else all their hard work to try and save her would be for naught. A little guilty now, she lays back down, and accepts the spoonful of soup when he puts it against her lips.

Recovery is slow. Aside from her wounds, she needs to go through physical therapy to recover her strength. For so long, she’s been the strongest person in the room, yet now her legs wobble like a newborn colt’s, unable to support her own weight without leaning on the fisherman and his friends, who offer their support unconditionally. It becomes clear to her that they aren’t aware of her reputation; the village is more isolated than most. In her towns and villages, she was recognized (for better and worse). But here, she’s just… a person. A person in need, no less. There’s no judgment, no expectations. In spite of her bruised and broken ribs, she feels she can finally *breathe*.

She starts to adjust to life in the village, helping where she can as part of her rehabilitation, still not at her peak strength. She’s on a more even playing field with the other villagers, yet they value her all the same. In the morning, she often finds gifts at the door, and she treasures these more than any bounty she won in the king’s army. Her previous life seems so distant now, so unimportant. She feels loved; a strange and unfamiliar feeling. And overtime, she realizes her own feelings for the fisherman, who’s been at her side since the beginning. He’s nice and sweet and funny. While she was still on bedrest, he would tell her the most awful jokes, and she would laugh so hard it’d hurt her ribs. She had seen many attractive men in her time as a knight, beautiful and unblemished from a life of privilege or hard-cut and well-muscled from battle. Yet none of them compared to this little man with bushy eyebrows, a wiry beard, and a little gap between his front teeth. Yet his smile outdid the sun, and put a funny warmth in her chest. And eventually, she works up the courage to confess her feelings for him, afraid that he would reject her; she was just so big, and clumsy, and she ate so much, and she wasn’t particularly pretty from first a childhood of farmwork then years of battle. But none of that mattered, because he liked her too. And soon enough, they shared a bed for the night, then every night after. It is awkward at first, as she’s never shared a bed with anyone before or known such intimate touch, but she adjusts to this too.

But the peace does not last. For while she was recovering, the enemy kingdom had invaded, conquering town after town, and now they’ve come her. None of the villagers are warriors. But she is–even though she still aches and is out of practice. The fisherman tries to talk her out of it, they don’t have to fight, *she* doesn’t have to fight anymore, not for some distant king. She tells him, she isn’t doing this for the king, but herself and them. And when it becomes evident that he can’t dissuade her, he gets the boys together, and they work all night to equip her. Dressed in pots, pans, and similarly improvised armor, armed with a lumber axe, she meets the enemy forces at the village outskirts, and after a beat they recognize her: the she-giant wasn’t dead! Uncertainty spreads through the ranks. They had all heard the stories–of how she cleaved a man in two with but a single blow with her monstrous blade, or the time she lifted a castle portcullis with her bare hands, or when she held a bridge by herself against 50 men. They thought she was dead! But the captain bristles. He did not believe in ghosts, and if this wretched country could produce one freak, why not another–this could not be the same woman. So he challenged her to single combat, sure that she was just another country bumplin; his superior skill would prevail against her brute strength. She, in return, extracts a promise from him; that he and his men would leave the village alone if she bested him. The battle is quick and humiliating, but opposite of how the captain expected things to go. Though out of practice and still not at her physical peak (which she might never reach again), she trounces him. Again and again she insists that he stays down, but his pride won’t allow it, until she delivers a blow that turns out to be fatal. The enemy force is aghast; their fears were true. The second in command, now newly promoted, honors the bargain and hurriedly withdraws their forces. That night, she breaks down and sobs in the fisherman’s arms; she didn’t miss killing.

Later, the king manages to turn back the invading army, and following the rumors finds her again. He demands why she hadn’t returned to his service; her disappearance is what emboldened the enemy to finally invade. But he’s willing to forgive her transgression, in light of her outstanding service, provided she returned–but before he can finish, she pulls him from his horse like she’s scolding a child. She’s done with killing, she tells him, she’s done with people using her. She wants to be left in peace, and invokes her outstanding service to lay claim to the land that the village stands on. No taxes, no demanding kids march off to fight strangers’ battles. In exchange, on her promise as a knight, she would never raise a blade again, for him or against him. And soberly aware that she could crush his head between her hands like an overripe melon, he comes to the decision that her demands are totally reasonable, this village wasn’t *that* important anyway, and he actually fulfills his end of the bargain. The king leaves the village in peace and that’s the last of him that she ever sees.

Things settle down again, and there’s no more attacks, no more tax collectors, no more recruiters. For her, it’s a return to form, a distantly familiar life, except this time she is loved. She is accepted. And eventually, she and the fisherman, now her husband, decide to have kids. It’s scary for her. What if they end up like her? What if they’re too small? What if she accidentally hurts them? Forgetting that she’s handled babies before, and helped others through childbirth. But her husband assures her, it’ll be fine. They’ll be fine. She’s the kindest, strongest, gentlest soul he knows; and he’ll be there every step of the way. And a few months later, when the two of them decide to leave the village to go visit her old friend from the knights, her belly is the size of another woman’s at 3 weeks overdue, but for her it’s only the first trimester. Her old friend, seeing her next to her tiny husband, jokingly asks if he needed a ladder to do the deed, but it’s in good fun and they all laugh. She is happy, and eagerly awaits the birth of her children, however many there are, however big or small they turn out to be.