Chapter 1: The Church of Galathea

Pristine, angelic, white marble walls that stretched onward until they became an endless sea of luminous burning light, and upwards, as if to threaten to scrape against the foot of the throne of the gods themselves, ordained at both the base and apex of their towering stature with intricate gold inlays and winsome depictions of the creation of man and the love of mother Galathea, sandwiched in between. Supported by large, cylindrical pillars, that wore brilliant shimmering coifs upon their feet and neck, their uniformity broken and another layer of symmetry laid upon their ethereal display, by beautiful high arched, stained glass windows, that found themselves delicately placed in between, whose deep velvet drapes remained drawn, allowing the settings sun's mesmerizing, illuminating orange rays to cast a warm hue upon the inside. Separating these beguiling exhibits, an equally as ceaseless plain of beauteous, fair white tiles; sat upon them, a uniform sea of long, ornery, deep brown benches, parted down the center by a path no more than two shoulders wide. A path which lead to a mostly empty raised platform near the end, populated only by a deep crimson carpet, decorated by embellishing gold etchings along its margins, and a large, wide , rich brown wooden podium , flanked on both sides by soaring statues.

Tinted bronze by the metal from which they were finely constructed, depicting a bounteous woman of both body and beauty. Long, thick voluminous hair, draped across her back, sat upon a seraphic veneer, held atop a slender nape, attached to narrow shoulders, whose chest they laid atop carried two large. swollen, shapely, overflowing, tear drop shaped breasts, that burgeoned triumphantly forward before, sloping seductively down unto her taut, muscular abdomen, threatening to spew off the sides of her trim waist. The tantalizing , near hyperbolic dramatization of the natural form of a woman's upper half , matched only by what followed below her broad, thickened, child bearing hips. Supported by two long shapely legs, which undoubtedly held behind them a sea of full, wide, round bubbly ass fat, that drooped obscenely down unto plush fair thighs. Posed, her arms outstretched and her beautiful guile tilted upwards, weeping what can be interpreted as both tears of either joy or sorrow.

At first glance one might assume the statue readily depicted the form of a goddess, undoubtedly one of lust, pleasure and sexual desire. And they would be partly correct, for the sculpture held in awe , the portrait of the goddess Galathea, one of the many deities said to have created and now govern the world. Unlike her counterparts however, mother Galathea , Goddess of love, and all the forms it may arrive in, is said to treasure all her children, and doesn't reserve her blessings for those thought to have earned her favor.

It is within these hallowed walls, before these effigies , that you spend most of your days, prostrated in deep reflective contemplation and worship, as a newly inducted lay minister of the Chantry of Galathea.

" Oooooooh....... Mother Galathea, gratitude to ye for another , beautiful, blessed day." You whispered out with religious zeal, procumbent before the cherubic statues, hands clutched tightly to your chest.

" We are sinful, wicked, and deserve neither your favor, nor your gaze. We beg of ye sat upon your golden throne, save us from our ignorance, and give us the knowledge so that we may spread your loving tears to all the world, that they may be showered in your divine affection." You continued, with more conviction and fervor than before, as you recited your daily morning prayers, to your patron goddess.

" And deliver us from the hate and spite of this world, so that we may bask in your presence once more. Ooooooh.... Mother Galathea have mercy on our damned souls. Have mercy on our damned souls ! Have mercy on our damned souls ! " You chanted in continuation, your voice rising in power to match your conviction.

" And .......... !" You opened your mouth to continue your intercession, finding yourself quickly cut off, by a soft, nurturing, warm , yet regal and commanding effeminate voice.

" And let the light of your love shine upon us , so that we may carry it in our darkest hour."

You quickly raised your head from your deep invocation, and spun around to meet the strange voice, finding yourself face to face , with both an angelically radiant , and salaciously titivating sight.

She wore a simple, high collar, ceremonial, pure white dress, wrought with delicate, gold, runic inlays that flowed like a waterfall down from it's nape, unto its narrow shoulders, meeting their end at the loose cuffs of the dress's long sleeves . Equipped also with a rather provocative slit down the side , below their broad hips, which revealed an ample amount of sun kissed flesh, and made note of her soft bare feet, which wore golden, thaumaturgic anklets. With only a few moments to take stock of her form, you were near blinded and inflamed by both her enthralling cadence and seraphic, near improbable beauty, as well as her voluptuous physique and tantalizingly seductive hourglass figure, much like the statue you knelt before, not a few seconds ago.

The diaphanous silk fabric clung greedily to her most lubricously hypnotic and fullest features, which which jutted and spewed ardently out against the textile for every undoubtedly, lustful, onlookers perverse satisfaction. It hungrily clung to the shape of two swollen, round, burgeoning, fattened melons that sat proudly atop her chest, highlighting each globes' , rotund , plump, full, watermelon shape in their entirety, proudly spewing forth in every direction, near pursuing a competition for the space her arms occupied, and drooping slightly, threatening to spill off her slender frame, causing the fabric to groan almost under the stress. Resulting in the rest of the stretched material, vividly highlighting the details of her rather trim waist and taut flat stomach as well.

Tracing her frame further down , you found that these salacious, exaggeratedly, perverse features, were held atop and equally as wanton bottom half. A set of wide, thickened , almost doorframe sized, baby making hips, whose, unquantifiable volumes of flesh, much like her huge, bloated udders, distorted the dwindling material, to lewdly dramatizing their shape. Despite their massive size, they seemingly struggled and were near dwarfed by an even more egregiously reprobate ingredient of her hourglass physique. What can only be described as a sea of full, round, bubbly, ass fat spilling against the tight, groaning fabric. The textile wrapping lasciviously around the curves of her thick , shapely, wide, overflowing backside, creaking almost as they struggled to contain the vast quantities of flesh that resided within their confines, lewdly outlining their form, leaving nothing to the imagination, as they triumphantly jutted outwards , each cheek nearly the size of a volley ball , beckoningly calling any onlooker. Pelagic, monuments of thickened, pert, wide , overflowing flesh , spewing, quaking vigorously with ripples of fat, every minute motion she took, their gargantuan, weight, heft and size, making them near visible, even in the front facing position, with which she stood from behind her bovine hips. Such massive bounteous volumes of titivating, flesh supported upward by appropriately, toned, thick , long shapely legs.

Seeing such a salacious display, you quickly drew your gaze to the apex of the fertility goddess, no succubus that stood before, finding an equally as enrapturing, but juxtaposingly distinct veneer. Her facial features, were bright, radiant, soft and rounded, yet also sultry and inviting, perfectly highlighted by her glowing, sun kissed skin. Large, soft, maternal, jade green doe eyes, outline lightly blotched by a fine layer of rosy mascara, a cute, dainty button nose, high, strong cheek bones that gave her a look of regality, and a pair of full, thick, pouted pink lips, her voluminous, curly, fiery blonde hair flowing like a waterfall down unto the sides of her face and to the small of her back.

Normally, seeing such a woman, overflowing with flesh in all the right places, with a body that easily surpasses even the most willy of exotic tavern whores, would send any normal, heterosexual, red blooded man's ichor boiling, and their member throbbing, violently and profusely with a burning need for satiation. However , in your case it was quite the opposite, such a display filled you with a sense of warmth, familiarity and respect. Both because the perversely sinful, physique you were just made witness to, belonged to a woman and authority you were all too intimate with. That woman, your loving, sweet, affection mother, Sophitia, as well as the High Priestess of Lautrec's Chantry of Galathea, one of the great city states that make up the country of Weisshaupt.

A gentle smile etched it's way across your face, as the familiarity, you experienced, brought with it a flood of remembrances. Sweet, affectionate , maternal , nurturing and caring, with a selfless devotion to both the people she served as high priestess, as well as you her son, and an unfailing kindness and willingness for second chances , love and forgiveness no matter a person's past transgressions. Combined with a near clairvoyant wisdom, beguiling charm , and a commanding sense of regality, presence, and unwavering righteousness, principle and commitment to the teachings of Galathea, that brought with it respect by both chantry members , and the uninitiated public. Your mother was nothing short of both the perfect maternal figure and priestess, the later you were aware of all too well.

Your mother was nothing but kind loyal and supportive of you, your entire life, after all it had just been you and her for the most of it, within these holy, white walls, since your father died at birth and you both had nowhere to go. The chantry readily accepts those seeking succor, and safe harbor, and it was from the moment that your mother sought their protection, that you both became apart of their system. While initially, as much as you could hazard a guess as to why, your mom did seek the church's protection for both your safeties, Galathea knows , the perverse, twisted miscreants and fiends who were willing to take advantage of a recently, widowed, unguarded, and fiscally debted woman , especially one as voluptuously enchanting as your mother. But in time, she rather quickly took to the teachings of the church, venerating their gospels, and becoming a paragon of their principles, easily working her way up their hierarchy, which just so happened to be a matriarchy, until she found herself where she is now, as the high priestess all the while raising you.

You recalled intimately the way she used to lull you good night with sweet lullabies before kissing you on the forehead, how she delicately bandaged your wounds, while affectionally whispering sweet words of assurance and love, after you had finished rough housing in the church garden with the other chantry boys, how she always had a warm meal to fill your belly every supper after her duties. As childish as it sounds, and as much as a mother's boy , it makes you out to be, your mother was the light of your world, and the only person you feel you could ever truly rely one. She is largely the reason you chose to become a lay minister, even though there is not as many opportunities for men in the church of Galathea, who believe only women are truly capable of expressing the love mother Galathea has for us in it's fullest form. Even so, you did it to remain close to her, so that you may never have to leave her side, after all this was the only life you knew , and it made you happy, why change that.

" High priestess, it is an honor." You bellowed out respectfully, as you rose from your prostrated posture, meeting her face to face, before bowing your head in submission and respect, hitherto to your superior.

" Oh please my sweet boy, raise your head. I am your mother before I am high priestess and we are alone. There is no need to observe such formalities. " She cooed out gently, but also with a twang of authority , as if when delivering a command, no doubt a habit from her years as the figure head of the church.

" Yes mam ! " You chirped in response, brushing some of your sandy blonde hair out of your face, before meeting your ice blue eyes with hers.

" My child, I know the dusk settles soon , but I would ask a short favor of you. Some of our convent in the high district haven't received their gospel pamphlet for tomorrow's service. Would you be so kind as to deliver them?" She continued in the same demeanor as before , provided with an added bit of her sultry, beguiling charm and charisma, soft hands outstretched, holding a stack of papers, awaiting your response.

" Happily mother . " You towed in replication, taking the papers from your mother's hand. You could hardly refuse her, especially when she was both your boss and parent.

" That's my dear boy." She mewled out lovingly once more, before delivering a small peck upon your cheek, you smiled warmly in rejoinder.

Your mother gave you a polite head bow, as is custom of departures in the church, before sauntering away to attend to her other, no doubt numerous duties . As she did so you could feel the heat rise within your cheeks, and your face redden with embarrassment, your eyes quickly latching unto her over flowing rear. Every sway of her thickened, bovine hips, left the already spent, skin tight fabric stretching indecently against the curves of her form and groaning in pain. Serving also to send each of her large, juicy, round, fattened, wide ass cheeks, bubbling, and rippling indecently with flesh from side to side, bobbing up and down with noticeable heft before slamming downward unto her plush thighs with a weighty smack, near threatening to tear out of her moaning dress, which lewdly dramatized their ample flare, and gargantuan size. It was the gods own luck, that you both found yourselves alone, as this base, carnal, titivating sight would no doubt even draw the most devout and pious believer's lustful glare, not that it wouldn't be an instance you weren't all too familiar with and thoroughly vexed by.

Given your mother's outrageous physique, it was hardly a surprise, even in spite of her holy status, men and sometimes even women couldn't tear their eyes away from her angelic veneer or ample, seductive , almost wanting hourglass. Thinking about it more deeply now, you realize it was a constant source of frustration and embarrassment in your life, exacerbated further by the awareness of men's more lecherous and baser natures brought about by your own sexual maturation. By all intents and purposes, your mother was the perfect woman in every manner imaginable. And it was due to this flawless design , that she enjoyed an unhealthy amount of lust driven attention, both hidden and bare, unwanted sexual advances and cat calls by vagrants when she journeyed to deliver the gospel outside of the church and scandalously enough even, convent members when she remitted the holy word in the chantry . And much to your anger and dismay even the occasional vulgar pinch or slap on ass or wanting hands clamping tightly down on her fattened cow udders, by drunk ruffians, **** horndogs, or lust addled teenagers, when in large crowds , which always sent them wobbling and rippling indecently , attracting even more attention, , much to the enjoyment of any onlooking red blooded heterosexual male , which undoubtedly sent their loins alight .

She was the object of many women's jealously and many men's twisted carnal desires , so much so that she wasn't even safe from these obscene , hungry gestures even when amongst friends and other members of the chantry, some of whom paint themselves as virtuous and pious. Who despite their relation seemed, like many, unable to abstain from engaging in hungry glares and the voicing of wild sickening lust driven, maddening fantasies. You scant recount the many ways and times you had overheard vagrants, chantry goers, lay ministers, priests and in some cases even close friends regale in great detail and hushed tones , how they'd love to dig their hands into that endless sea of supple , thick sun kissed , fat ass flesh and give her a pounding so vigorous, she would renounce her faith to Galathea and agree to worship and service their cocks all day, until they were spent. How she had a body that could rival the most winsome depictions of succubae, more fit for that of a tavern whore or serving wench, rather than a priestess. You couldn't help but feel that many a reason some people attend the chantry's service was because your mother gave them an eye full and set a fire burning in their breeches every time she came on stage, her ample stores of flesh lewdly jumping up and down, teasing their cocks to their delight. The pantheon only knows you've caught many a chantry members, various times, furiously working their engorged members and moaning her name in the confession box, muttering hungrily under their breadth, how they'd love to maul her fat tits, pound her swollen juicy rear , and spew their seed inside her hot, wet, spasming vaginal walls everyday until she became swollen with their foul offspring.

Each of these events, nearly every time sending you flush with both rage and embarrassment. How could those, whom she served alongside so intimately for the better part of a decade and a half, supposedly pious chantry goers, believers of the fate and common folk who respect authority, violate the sanctity of her status as high priestess and her body , by viewing her as little more than a piece of meat in their minds, some exotic prostitute meant to be pawed at and leered over, who exists solely to satisfy their base desires. Sometimes you find yourself lamenting both your situations, while you developed solace, purpose and a sense of righteousness in your work, the debase attention brought upon your mother by her position, made it difficult for you at times. You wanted to cry out, shame and exile the cretins, and twisted perverts who stared at or clawed wantonly at your mother's large, full, round, melon sized cow udders, and wide , thick, fattened, swollen heart shaped ass, as they bounced, and quivered vigorously with a cascade of supple flesh, each minute movement she engaged in. But you knew she was a devout follower of the teachings of Galathea, which would never allow it. Calling for endless love, forgiveness and for one to turn the other cheek. She was good at it obviously considering what she went through most days, but you always knew your mother to be a bit absent minded and a clutz when it came to distinguishing lecherous behaviors from being a bit too intimate, which explains why half the time she doesn't notice a greedy paw on her massive milkers, her bovine hips, fat ass or one sneaking up her dress. Sometimes you found yourself daydreaming about how much better life would be , had you both chosen to be farmers in some remote village, far away from prying eyes, but this was your life now and as distasteful as you found it, you grew accustomed to these behavior, and took comfort in the knowledge that no one would dare to go further given her status......

Well except for one...........