Harvest Blessing

Queen Avelyne was worshipped not just as ruler, but as divine vessel. They called her The Living Harvest, the mouth through which the land fed and, in return, was blessed. Statues of her crowned with wheat and fruit dotted the valleys. Her name was whispered with reverence during planting season and bellowed in joy when the crops burst fat and ripe under the sun.

Each year, at the high of the harvest moon, the Ritual of Consumption began.

Avelyne reclined on her chaise lounge, wearing nothing as it would just rip and get in the way. Her head lolled back against a pillow, mouth slightly parted as a plump grape was pressed past her lips. Her maid, Lys, quick with small hands and quicker orders, wiped at the juice that smeared the queen’s cheeks.

Behind them, barrels of grapes stretched into the shadows, stacked like the walls of a citadel. Half were already empty.

Avelyne’s belly loomed above her, taut and gleaming in the candlelight. It rose like a dome, round and vast, heavy with thousands of crushed grapes. The skin stretched tight, and every shallow breath made it wobble with thick, wet sounds—sloshes, glurps, and occasional deep gurgles that echoed against the stone floor. It protested, loudly and often.

Still, the grapes kept coming.

"You must keep pace, Your Grace," Lys urged, her voice soft but firm. She cupped another handful and slipped a few more grapes between Avelyne’s lips. "The bounty cannot go unblessed."

Avelyne groaned low in her throat. Her stomach shifted visibly, sloshing like a waterlogged sack. She tried to sit up, barely lifting her shoulders before flopping back with a wet shlorp from her belly echoing through the hall. Juice glistened on her chin, her lips, even her collarbone. Her face was flushed, eyes glassy.

“Another successful harvest blessing,” Lys said, almost cheerfully. She patted the side of the great orb of Avelyne’s belly. It jiggled like pudding and answered with a long, wet groan.

The queen let out a small, winded moan. “Still more?”

“Always more,” said the maid, reaching for another grape.