Mirko won the pole, but my heart wanted Ghislaine. So you get two bodyguards in this piece! More to come later. When later is, I can't say.
The train produced a constant, yet distant chugging sound. The various passenger carts jostled occasionally, but the ride had been smoother than usual. The window rattled as a persistent crosswind assailed it.
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. 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 car 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 further 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 no 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 there was a fee. Your train was set to depart soon, as well. 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. Although 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 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.’