Alchemical Augmentations: A Growth Story

‘This mantle is killing me…’
This one thought seemed to be repeating itself on loop behind Arthea’s amethyst gaze, as drops of sweat appeared on the woman’s forehead, soon running down along the bridge of her nose, before making a leap to splash on the wax of the candle in her hands. It seemed there was just no end to this sudden and, in her eyes, inexplicable misery that sieged her whole, and she found herself more and more anxious, and irritated with each passing second. Her head began to ache, and her vision felt dizzier the more time had passed, and it really didn’t help things, that she was forced to take small, ragged breaths due to the obvious uncomfortableness in her chest. The woman now tried pulling the hefty wool of her chasuble to the side a bit in hopes of giving some chill air to her suffocating and sweating flesh, but apparently it didn’t do the trick. With sour taste in her mouth, Arthea took a quick glimpse around in the room, seeing her sisters whispering and pointing fingers at her all around. They obviously noticed the difficulties she faced, their body language told her that. Yet, it was something else about them that concerned the priestess…

‘They look all so small. I must have a fever.’, and possibly even a higher one, strong enough to make her hallucinate.
‘What’s wrong with me? I felt elated and better than ever just moments ago!’, but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t find any explication apart of the damp of the wax she inhaled. She couldn’t have poisoned herself just in the most important moment, right? The more she thought of it, the less confident she became about the answer. There was no other way.
‘Well, at the very least I made sure that I have also made a complete fool out of myself.’, and her cheeks suddenly darkened once more, to the same crimson they were burning in as she rushed in the sanctuary.

It all had happened shortly after the knock. Arthea, having the scarlet cloak already sheathed around her torso and over her fiery strands, left her room with the bag of candles in her satchel. She paid little to no attention to her surroundings as her thoughts were already circling around the ceremony, and her difficulties also began to manifest. But then, she heard an invocation that somehow found a way through the mist surrounding her mind, alerting the woman almost immediately.
“Mistress Arthea!”
Startled by the voice, the priestess turned around, a frown and a look of confusion displayed on her face. She noticed a girl a handful of steps away dressed like the rest of the nuns, even though she seemed completely lost and clueless in the melancholic silence of the corridor. The maid, previously rushing towards her direction, suddenly slowed down, her honey strands dancing in front of her face, her emerald green eyes going wide for the moment as if she had seen a ghost in the Invoker. Nevertheless, she still reached the ginger a few seconds later.
“M-Mistress Arthea?”, she repeated the words with a fair hint of nervousness and hesitance mixed up with genuine awe in her voice as she gazed up at the alluring and menacing Amazon the priestess had become. Her reaction was understandable considering how she barely reached up to the ginger’s amplified globes, and how Arthea’s face displayed a frown of confusion and suspicion as she came to the same realisation.
“Sister Greta? Please, don’t call me that way. We are all equal here, between this Chapel’s walls…”, she responded even though even she doubted her words in this moment. Her voice felt deeper and huskier than she remembered, and it even caused the girl to shiver slightly. The girl that was barely four or five years younger than her, but still felt like a mere child in comparison. Greta was the newest nun of the monastery, an orphan that had been fostered by the sisterhood six years earlier, when she was only twelve. She had been petite and fragile young thing as a child, and she hadn’t changed much while growing up either. She was a late bloomer, with a height of just 5’2 and a thin frame that only represented femininity in its delicacy, but not curvature. She didn’t have much of an ass and her boobs were only A cups. Compared to the enhanced and enlarged Arthea with her amazonian height and suffocating D cups she ended looked like a mere child instead of roughly the same generation. This obviously didn’t go unnoticed by the two priestesses either, explaining the expressions displayed on their faces. Though they had barely interacted with each other before, as Arthea had spent her last couple of years mainly preparing for her fate, they still were living with a smaller difference in their memories. Greta was the one to invoke this feeling.
“Y-You are so massive…”, she whispered absentmindedly, failing to notice that her words slipped out from the grasp of her mind and through her lips, the emerald gaze filled with pure adoration and a hint of sorrow and envy at the red priestess’ beauty. Her words involuntarily sprung red roses onto Arthea’s cheeks, the taller woman rolling her eyes with embarrassment, but also a strange warmth she couldn’t hide nor deny. Truth be told, glancing down at the petite girl adoring her did indeed feel empowering and flattering to her. Still, her voice was scolding when she spoke again, a clear hint of irritation lingering in her tone because of the discomfort she experienced on both spiritual and physical level.
“Sister, I don’t have time for your improper words, the ritual only awaits us… How may I help you?”, she asked her last words a bit more honeyed as she noticed the fearful tremble of the girl.
“I-I know…”, the blonde mumbled casting down her gaze with shame. She always felt awkward when interacting with Arthea. The other priestess was just a whole different level in her eyes. The Invoker. And unmatched beauty…

“That’s why I waited you…”, she eventually whispered. “Arthea…”, her gaze orphaned and full of insecurity as she glanced back up at her. The Invoker never saw someone so lost and desperate before.
“I fear. I don’t want to go to the ceremony.”
“B-But why? Sister, it’s the day we were waiting for-“
“You are going to summon a demon, sister! W-What if something goes wrong? What if it attacks and devours us all?”, and the stuttering voice was accompanied by big terrified eyes on the brink of tearing up.
“O-Or the ritual won’t work? What if you fail as an Invoker? You know what happens with the fallen ones…”, she could no longer keep eye contact with the taller woman.
“I-I…I’m so sorry, I know I shouldn’t think like this, but-“, the younger nun suddenly found herself muffled by warm flesh and lavender scent, her head buried in the coziest set of pillows she ever lied on.
“Hush, my child…”, she heard Arthea’s voice circling around her in the air as the Amazon now ran her gentle hand through her honey locks, pulling her against her body with ease, but doing it in a comforting, protective manner. The priestess couldn’t explain why she addressed Greta this way. It was an interesting combination of things actually. Rizzik’s potion messing with her mind, the intoxicating power she felt circling in her veins despite all discomfort, the fact that Greta was in desperate need of comfort, her own tenderness towards the younger nun…
“I know you are distressed, so is the rest of us. And it’s absolutely normal to have doubts and fears. But sister… I’m here. I’m the Invoker, and today I found a pledge that we are going to succeed. The goddess I am to summon. She’s in for the sexiest experience in decades. I guarantee She’ll bear only gratefulness towards her faithful worshippers…”, her body began to tingle now, as Greta’s own arms were wrapped around her waist, her palms finding rest on the ample cheeks they slightly groped as she snuggled closer. Arthea found herself getting aroused as her entire body felt much more sensitive than ever. She began hyperventilating.
“I guarantee you that there’s nothing to worry about. I am here to reassure you… and perhaps I can visit you in your chamber tonight, so that you won’t be alone…”, she added, placing a small kiss at the top of Greta’s head. Her mind was not as innocent about the offer as her voice. But her lustful thoughts were no match for what was to come.
“Thank you, Arthea…”, the girl hummed against her breasts, instinctively massaging her rear to calm down, nuzzling the swollen breasts of the ginger with her face, her lips accidentally touching the warm flesh through the hole of Arthea’s dress.

To Arthea, this marked a snap. Just as the sanctuary’s door opened up, and sister Theresa stepped outside, the already hyperventilating Invoker let go of a loud, deep and unnecessarily lewd moan. While she leant her head back and gained two more inches out of nowhere, a loud creak was heard as her already strained dress gave in, and it tore at her neck, causing a deep cleavage to appear all the way down to her boobs, with basically her stone hard nipples holding the attire’s entire upper half.
“ARTHEA! What’s the meaning of this disgraceful behaviour?! INVOKER, I demand you to let the sister go!”

That’s how she found herself there now, in the middle of gossips, shameful glances, and constant whispering. Sister Greta was sent back to her chamber following her inappropriate and humiliating performance from the hallway. But Arthea was not so lucky, as there was still a ceremony to be completed, and after her disgraceful acts, there was no way that she could talk herself out of it. So now there she was, the all so important Invoker, standing in the middle of the sanctuary all alone with her breasts completely exposed beneath the thick layer of wool that weighed her down, and made her sick in the hot, incense filled air that wasn’t not even a mere breeze freshened…