Busted
Party Poppers


Written by Septia.


-Bttwwnnng- -Bbttwnng- Chestnuts's lard jugs bounced with her steps. Her bloated orbs's jovial teetering staggered by the onyx corset dress wrapped over them. You had told her that she needed some time to let her chest wear in the dress, though after a week her honking bazoongas yearned to sprawl free from a loose hanging merchant’s dress, to let their natural bulk sculpt them into plush arches in fields of cleavage spanning form her collar bone to her navel. -Bbwnng- Instead her bust was choked down taut, peaking up in hills resting just below her cheek: it felt like she was lugging along a kleptomaniac hamster’s cheeks. 
	She sighed, wrapping her arms beneath hertorso shelf. As she walked down mastig street there were more people acknowledging her. Folks with matching clothing quality tipped their hats, those with less scurried aside, and the fattibo knots in rags cast long gazes of awe in her direction. Before, people had just caught a glimpse of her magnanimous mammaries and awkwardly shifted their gaze. She turned her eyes to the empty space in front of her. Dressed up in fancier clothes than she had ever owned, yet she felt naked without her wagon stall.


Chestnuts arrived at Adilan's doorstep, the modest edifice hidden away along a common street. A glance at the lock; it would be easy enough to pick. She knocked. 
	The door creaked open, a tall, imposing guard waiting inside. 
	Chestnuts nodded in greeting. “Reginald, Good noon.” 
	Reginald's gaze lingered on her for a moment. Then the towering man replied. “Melons…” 
	Chestnuts stifled a grimace so her lips flatlined. At this point she didn't know which nickname was worse, though resigned to let it be by stepping through the door. She hadn't exactly left Reginald in the best of shape during their first meeting. And there was business to attend to. 


~ 1 ~


-Dnngk -Dnngkk- -Dnngkth- Adilan dusted off his mane with his antennae as he heard the knocking on the door, the mouth looking up from his desk without turning to the door. 
	“This office remains open for all allies,” Adilan addressed the unknown. 
	Chestnuts opened the door, passing the threshold chest first with a -Bbbwooong- bounce of stepping up the elevated flooring. 
	“If it isn’t the Kettervale siblings,” Adilan mused.
	“How'd you know it is both of us? I could'a come by myself…” 
	Adilan adjusted his glasses. “It is a feat to separate you two,” he said, still turned away from them. 
	“It ain't, that, hard,” Chestnuts huffed, and placed a finger along the far left end of her bust. Her finger traced along the seam just barely visible as a groove on her skin, and in the wake of their touch their skin cleaved in a doughy motion -Bgllgrlsht- the flesh meld coming undone with tethers webbing together the suture of her cleavage, growing thinner as the motion carried her finger along the end of the groove. The pressure of the noble-class dress made manifest when her chest lid -Pppwwwpb- snapped open under the taut hold of the corset. From the opening in the sprung booby trap came your head, peering out into Adilan's office to ensure the coast was clear, before crawling out. 
	-Bbwhhghs- Chestnuts cupped her chest and hoisted it up from below to ease your journey out of the blubbery padding, the buxom jostle aiding your escape over the brim of the bust, vaulting over the edge and landing on your feet. You glanced back into the open chest, to the dark deep mauve and pink chestnut hue of Chestnuts's flesh, and further in, that pit of blackness, even with the bust open, and light streaming in from the oil lamps in the office, that abyss laid, it would not illuminate that abyss. Somewhat unnerving, though you'd been room-mates with this abyss long enough for it to feel homely. 
	You dusted off your suit, adjusting the batneck scarf under your chin, and bowed, all as Chestnuts weighed the top of her bosom down, to seal it shut once more. 
	“Certainly the pleasure is shared…” 
	Adilan rose from his chair, meeting the two of you with a practiced gait, a stride ephemeral with the insectile humanoid's physique. “Trusting to hear the recent assignment was followed to its conclusion?” 
	“Definitely,” you confirmed, “We have the assets right here,” you said and reached back to Chestnuts. As she was on the verge to sow up her chest your hand planted into her boobage -Bbwbwbg- the girls cratering under the grasp of your fist, moulding to the outlines of your digits before the seam’s flesh meld enveloped your fist with a viscous slurp -Schhrlrpsth-, and your forearm dug right into Chestnuts's top shelves. 
	“Oi, you, absolute…” Chestnuts grumbled,  “who gave you permission?” 
	“Chestnuts, you got more than just my arm rooting around in there all the time, just gimme I… ahah, there it is,” you said in triumph and reeled back your arm, clutching a leather package sealed with a slapdash ribbon strap… You presented it to Adilan whilst Chestnuts clicked her lips and smacked her chest to seal up the rest, the smooth skin rippling along her bread buns as the tear smoothed clean. 
	Adilan accepted the parcel. Unfolding the parcel and inspecting the contents: Deeds, deals, and a letter patentia with the Pludopyg authority shield as an insignia stamped on all documents: a dual horizon framed in a dewdrop. “Excellent achievement, truly, Pludopyg was an expected challenge to break into.” 
	“Your words hint you expected us to get caught,” you mused. 
	Adilan smiled and folded up the leather parcel. “And equally expected,” he continued, “you succeeded, surpassing yourselves yet again.” 
	“And?” Chestnuts interjected, “all nobles are alike, they ought to utilise their houses for more than just covering their assets.” 
	“Certainly, certainly,” Adilan said, “and that they shall, among other resources, the Pludopyg have the second highest influence over the Fattigbo.” 
	Chestnuts perked up, thinking back to the warehouse halls outfitted to house those without homes or belongings, a way to house the homeless, as well as control them. “Oi, then who’s first?” 
	“Lady Elvira Ka,” Adilan responded.
	Chestnuts’s expression contorted from hope to disgruntled. Having met that woman twice already she could confirm it was was thrice too many.
	“And that's Pludopyg off the list,” you said with a smirk “who is next?” you asked. 
	Adilan sat back in his chair. “Something less guarded than the Pludopyg estate.” 
	Chestnuts scratched her chin, elbow dinging down into her boobage -Bddwnng-. “Speakin' of guards, how come I never see any guards other than Reginald here?” Chestnuts wondered. 
	Adilan's antennae stirred. “The Tygla-fast is approaching,” he continued, steering the subject back on track, “Lady Throptrop will be hosting a garden party, delegating and delighting in the spoils surplus. A gathering locale for nobles, and her estate will be busy, preoccupied with the festivities,” Adilan put his palms together, “you will find yourselves on the the shortlist.”


~ 2 ~

 
	“Hey, ey, bring out more appetizers for the tables, the guests are rolling in, chop chop.” The butler of the Throptrop estate called out to a servant, who nodded their head and spoke through the veil warped around their face to ensure the food remained uncontaminated. “Yes sir.” 
	The butler walked past them, and as the servant turned, in one motion, you had the butler's keys pinched and pocketed. As the personnel remained busy you shuffled up along a side entrance, up to the second floor that by now laid desolate. Through one hall, up a corridor, your steps light and soft on the many carpeted floors. Every junction meant a pause, to listen for stray servants tiding the estate. Time was short, the Kettervale siblings had to be present at the party, and the butler would eventually notice their lack of keys, but it was better to wait a moment than be caught. Through one hall, first key, -Clllck- you were through. To the room adjacent, the master bedroom… first key -Cthd- Second key… -Cdthd-. Third key…? -Cllck- Done. And stepped into… a mess of paperwork. -Ccrrsktpsh- parchment crumbled under your feet as you waltzed in, the room a small alcove surrounded by massive shelves stacked with parchment and leather bound tomes, and folders, with untold documents spilled out over the ground. “Suppose all nobles are not alike,” you grumbled under your breath. Time grew short, and skimming over the avalanche of documents was a nightmare. The thought of such a crucial documentation being kept in this state was unthinkable. Unless… someone. It looked as if… someone had already been here? You don't think you like that, just go thought them, this folder, that one, on the shelf, on the desk, on the floor… There… On the end of a shelf, hidden behind a stack of books, a leather bound tome with Throptrop's authority shield insignia. Good enough. You tucked it under your servant disguise and shuffled out of the door. -Lchck- Locked. Back to the path, lock another door, pausing at the corners listening, down to the first level, to fade into the bustle of servants carrying plates of food, with no one the wiser-. 
	“Ey, you.” The butler's voice echoed in your ears. 
	“Yes?” 
	“We need more pudding tarts, bring them out immediately,” he said and shoved a tray of pastries in your grasp that were as colorful as they were glossy from sugar glazing. 
	“I can not stand in for staff, I have misplaced the estate keys, and you will not dare tell the mistress.” the butler scoffed and turned. “You don't know where they are, do you?” 
	A pause. “Have you checked your belt?” 
	“Of course I hav-.” The butler's stifled his sentence, patting the side of his hips, where they hung, a few more pats, just to hear the jingling of iron on iron. “Of course, I would not have misplaced them. Back to it.” He gestured you off. And you certainly obliged. 
	“Bring these tarts out, very urgent,” you said shovelling the tray onto another servant already carrying a cauldron. 
	“H-hey, I am not even supposed to carry this pot what do I do with this?” The servant called out. 
	But you were already scampering out through a side corridor towards the stables by the side of the estate. You hoped you hadn't missed the timing window as you opened up the door… And was met by Chestnuts, turning your way, a zip of her finger across the chest easing the already lubricated breast lips to part open with a crinkle of unguents smeared over lard -Kkrffllrshsh-. Without hesitation you dove into the gap of cleaved padding, feeling the lips of bazonga blubber graze over your head, swathing down your back and along your legs as you tumbled into the depths of her slammers. The stuffy bladwood scented air drowned out by the humid cradle of Chestnuts's plump cream tops. The lips sealed in around you, to envelop your legs as you submerged in the plush chamber of luscious sinew, slamming head first into a satchel of cloth and grinding down against the bottom, edging closer to the abyss, the darkness at the back of Chestnuts's treasure hold, though as you slid closer, the aperture of tissue contracted, letting you bump harmlessly against the flesh lining, and only a peek down the depths -Bdbnng-. 
	-Bwddngwngddng- Chestnuts's rackdipped from your entry, though was blocked by the strain of the brassiere, the light bump of your body warping the bottom of the dress to ricochet upwards, inflating the cleavage with your form, stretching her skin with a twang of rubber -Bbwtnngngs-. 
	Chestnuts wrapped her arms over her body and swept down towards the seam, sealing it shut as she turned away from the cloudier hinging closed, stifling the last remands of you after the moment of your disappearance. “Still, my treasures,” she mumbled and walked along the side of the building, away from the stables, but in a languid, carefree pace. 
	The door shortly opened, a servant peering out into the evening air, but seeing only the back of an onyx dressed noble sauntering away. 


“You have it?” Chestnuts asked as she rested back against the wall. 
	“Secured and stored, went off without a hitch.” 
	“That ought to be a relief, we'll head back as soon as you've done your changing,” Chestnuts mumbled. 
	“What?” you responded, as you shimmied out of the shawl and draping grey servant attire. Chestnuts's knockers bounding to and fro with your bloats of your limbs sailing up and caressing along the fields of cleavage whilst you contorted into your nobility suit. Tents of flesh stretching out in dunes sculpted vaguely to your limbs, protruding in towers of skin inflating -Bbwnngng- and concaving -Bbwbgaghsh- Chestnuts swayed her torso aside to sway, the jostling bulk of her tits lagging behind in the pendulum motion -Clpsghgh- the sloughing, ample pair of tatas jostled, masking the ruckus you were causing on the inside. 
	“What does that mean, what? We 're finished here.” 
	-Chsrpaghh- -Hgrlpaghsh- The squirming and rocking of her pudding peaks calmed, as a dome matching your head budded up over her left can. 
	“Leaving now would be a huge mistake,” you said, as a sliver opened in the mat ahead, casting down the evening light on your face. Chestnuts reached in with both hands to grasp under your armpits as you clung to her dress, heaving you out in a sloppy drag of breast saliva and massaging flesh. -Chhrrllfpfftht- -Kkdhrrlspth- A hasty heave had you stumbling with your knees over the lips, but finding your footing on the ground. Rising up and wiping off your forehead, standing, brushing down a patch of moisture on your suit and fluffing up your batneck scarf. “Our alibi would be solidified if both the Kettervale siblings remained at a the party, clearing ourselves of suspicion.” 
	Chestnuts massaged around the gap on the seam of her breasts, and rubbed it together to meld it shut. “‘Suppose so, though is it really necessary? We were some of the first guests, people know we are here.” 
	You turned to Chestnuts with a smile. “Come now, it is a party.” You held out your hand. And Chestnuts took it. 


~ 3 ~


It was different from a Crustacean celebration; with the merchants there were cheers, booze – no matter how tasteless –, songs, and camaraderie. Here, there was an aura of polite etiquette and compassion, though every attendant was balancing on needles: every word weighed, every response scrutinised. And here she was, balancing these gargantuan ice cream scoops of booby blubber in this corset cone, having to pretend to eat tart through her face mouth. She caught glimpses of you now and then, you were always talking, always someone listening, often several guests. You roamed from group cluster to cluster of nobles: Where some were balancing, you were ice skating. She pondered if she was doing something wrong. Then sneakily spammed a spoonful of pear pudding tart past her bust lips. 
	“Well well, if it isn't miss Cettle of Kettervale,” That voice had Chestnuts near choking, scrambling with her chest, and turning to be presentable, just in time for Lady Ka to approach. The noblewoman strode with grace in her slim physique, wearing a further adorned amber and black spiral patterned dress, and grey hair let out down in wavey swirls, though that slim face, and those beady eyes were the same. 
	“What, a, pleasure,” she said and reached out for a handshake. 
	“It is so,” she continued as her hand went past Chestnuts's, straight for her tits and then squeezed in emphasis of her next word, “Meet, you two here.” The bony fingers of the noble sunk into Chestnuts's titfat, curves of her breasts arching down to follow the sharp angles of Ka's fingers, she recognized that grip as well… The less she remembered about the return trip to Ka, the better… 
	“Elvira Ka, certainly, a pleasure to, see you as well…” 
	“Oh you can call me Elvira,” she said and leaned down, “sugar tits.” 
	Chestnuts’s eyelid twitched. 
	Desperate for any turn in conversation Chestnuts blurted out. “So how goes the mines?” 
	Ka smirked. “You my dear, sweet Cettle, your assets, are in very, good hands,” she mused, slowly easing her grasp on Chestnuts's breast, swelling back into shape with a faint rosy outline of Ka's hand. 
	“Great…” 
	“Oh come, my 'lil fledgling noble, you must converse with the host.” 
	“Ah,that. It has been a tiresome day and-.” 
	“Oh nonsense dear, I insist.” Ka's grasp on her wrist was harder than she'd anticipated. Led through the crowd to a tall noble of broad shoulder build, drinking from a crystal glass. 
	“Kettervale, this is Lady Throptrop of Slieht, the host of the Tygla-fast celebrations.” 
	The noble held up a palm as they finished their drink. “Please, Elvira, Lord is fine. Who might we have here?” 
	“I, am miss Cettle, of Kettervale, certainly a sincere pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Chestnuts curtsied. 
	Throptrop surveyed Chestnuts. “Great set of tits you are sporting.” 
	 Chestnuts twitched, and slowly mouthed out in reply. “F… Fffthaaanks.” 
	“And since that's out of my system now, we can converse undisturbed.” 
	“Huh, right,” the candour was, almost refreshing. Throprop was blunt as lady Ka, but, without all the underlying intentions. “You got great food in this place,” Chestnuts lied. 
	“Oh, I was surprised too,” Lady Ka said, “what with all the turmoil going on.” 
	“Oh?” lord Throptrop interjected, “you mean the Crustacea situation?” 
	Chestnuts swallowed.
	“You didn't hear it from me,” Throptrop winked, “but Crustacea has been lagging on their authentications, with their reliability diminishing it is causing a bit of a stirrup under the rafters.” 
	“You don't say, first I am hearing about it,” Chestnuts lied harder. 
	“Quite, but Tygla-fast is upon us, and all are expecting to eat less, trade was undoubtably trendind downwards. Once the moon's over, the results will be more… tangible.” 
	Chestnuts drummed her fingers on her tart plate. “But if, such a big merchant guilt are not bound by any contracts, won’t they just, deal with the people directly? Set up their own demands?” Chestnuts prodded. 
	“And it absolves us from relying on any bonds with them,” Ka mused, “though to gather up such fine festive ingredients despite that…” 
	Throptrop chuckled. “Competition breeds price reductions, there's more than enough sources willing to supply, for the right pay. Moreover, the Crustacea merchants guilds are aware of this, andwithout their letter patentia making business official, the guild resorts to offer… far less than asking price.” 
	Lady Ka chuckled. “Oh, you did not.” 
	Throptrop raised their glass with a wink, and then held it towards Chestnuts as well. “You did not hear it from me~,” the lord ensured. 
	Chestnuts's insides twisted. She regretted sampling the tart. Despite initial impressions, Throptrop seemed the same, all nobles are alike. Eyes glazed over as Ka and Throptrop prattled on, scanning the crow of colorful sparkling outfits, until… There you were. Chatting with one other noble closeby, secluded from another wandering clusters of conversation. Chestnuts saw you reach under your batneck scarf, pulling out… a leather-bound folder. Her eyes bulged. Dropping her assiette plate and threading off, her chest acting as an ice breaker, ramming through the crowd -Bgwgbbsb- smoothing and steamrolling into fancy clothing to cleave herself a path forwards with stray nobles shoved aside by the bobbing bulk of her pillows -Bdwoonngsh-. When she reached you the folder was still mostly hidden, her hand snatched onto your bicep and holding you in place. Her voice a torching whisper. “What are you doing?” 
	You turned to face her. “Relax, relax, worry less, let me just-…” Your eyes bulged. stuffing the folder back and grabbing Chestnuts in turn. “We need to go.” 
	Chestnuts threw a quick glance back, and through the parted cone of nobles she had forged, one man in a sleek, official getup strutted forth. A Slieht city guard. 
	“One moment,” the guard called out. 
	It couldn't be, it had to be. It was the same guard that had chased you so long ago, the day you screwed up a heist, the day you met Chestnuts. “We're leaving.” 
	Chestnuts followed along as you started to wander through the crowd, though had to bat away attempts at conversation from those you had talked up to over the course of the party. The guard was gaining ground. “I just require one moment of your time.” 
	“He's gonna catch up…” Chestnuts mumbled.
	“Excuse me, but I thought I saw someone I…” The guard said as they laid a hand on Chestnuts shoulder. The two of you turned around. -Chestnuts's tits lagging behind in the sweeping motion, -Shgrlbbwghslawb- the bottom half of her jugs stirred, constrained in the motion, whilst the hoisted, bobbing top shook and jostled like two mountains of jelly, the sinorus curves from the rattling sway arching along the boob flesh and snapping to and fro with the constrained magnitude, until they stringently waggled to a standstill. The guard's eyes locked onto the torquing gozongnas. “…Recognize you,” he mumbled. “Oh, yes, a moon or so ago, citizen. I requested your assistance with… Hang on, you were, just a citizen then.” 
	Chestnuts swallowed. -Gllgp-, and raised out a hand. “Cettle of Kettervale, new to nobility through discovered heritage landownership.” Chestnuts rattled off. 
	The guard scratched his chin, then straightened his back. “Ah of course, call me Jerque, head officer 4th division of the Slieht city guards. My, how fate can twist, isn't that right?” he said, eyes still flicking, magnetized away from you by Chestnuts's goods. “But that is how it be, some rise, when others fall, just look at the Hepathety, or the Tomaley…” 
	You swallowed, shaking. Right in Jerque's crosshairs, it was clear he would remember if he recognized Chestnuts too… 
	“I believe congratulations are in order, ma'am Kettervale .” Jerque saluted. “I shan't keep you any further, you can trust the guard to continue doing their breast, I mean breast, I mean brea-. I m-mean b-bree… Well. To, do well…” Jerque turned on a dime and successfully escaped the conversation. 
	You slumped against Chestnuts's side, muting your wheezing. 
	Chestnuts grabbed your shoulder. She proceeded to reiterate what she said earlier. “We're done here.”