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Busted, Just Jugs by aFilthySmutWriter Septia

Busted, Just Jugs

Busted, Just Jugs

Written by Septia

Dawn became day above the streets of Slieht. Sellers and peddlers alike flocked to the streets, overflowing from the merchant district on such a busy day as this. A pilgrimage had entered the town just a day prior, meaning even more customers than usual. In this bustle of faces, coins, vegetables, and knick knacks, one merchant was still toting around her combined wheelbarrow and merchant seller stand. -Bwnwnngns- with her chest overflowing in the high-held cart above her. Some in the crowd's eyes were drawn to her, to then shift away in embarrassment, others saw her as just another face in the crowd. Just as they passed a bread stand – with its owner locked in rolling their spiel to a customer. -Chhrrlspth- A faint squeal of parting tissue creaked from the side of her bust, an arm passing through an opening in the bust, and snatched up two loaves, then -Crfflrlsh- slipped back into into her chest. The slit sealed shut in a fleshy meld, nary a crease remaining.
“Knicked us some breakfast,” you said from within Chestnuts's bazongas.
“And we are all quite astounded by your pilfering,” she said, adjusting the frilled cloth, cupping and hoisting up her mammoth mammaries. “Anyone noticed?”
“Coast was clear on my eye,” she responded, “toss me back one of those.”
You looked back, from the merely dark confines of her rack, to the void of blackness resting deeper within Chestnuts's body. You weighted the loaves for a moment; one was clearly more refined and had a delicious crunch to the crust, tell-tale sign of fine break, while the other loaf was somewhat soggy and limp. How would she find out if You took the better one? -Chrlrpfhth- the finer Loraine loaf sunk into the darkness, and you gnawed on the soggy bread in silence. She'd know, and she was your lodgings.
Chestnuts licked her lips. A tremble tingled down her tits, a stretch of skin unwelded under great pressure. -Bhuaarop- The burp rustled out the gap in her bosom. She patted the stretch of skin between her neck and chest not occupied by her boobage, a brush over the opened seam to meld it shut.
“Come along, don't stare, you are being impolite.”
Her attention was caught. Eyes glazed over to the other side of the road. A gathering of rag dressed citizens – most there with children – wandered down along the stalls. Many others shunned them, though merely on reflex, for their distinct appearance.
“I see the slums are walking today,” someone muttered as they passed.
Chestnuts's eyes lingered. Meeting the gaze of a raggamuffin in the cluster.
“Were you ever part of a Fattibo?” she asked her breasts.
“Rather prison,” came your response as if on instinct.
“Least the poor get lodging through the Fattibo.”
“And then you stay there,” you noted, “it is less charity, more management. It is a way to divide the poor, keep them under watch, under the rules.” You shook your head. “The nobles don't have to scour the streets for corpses if they're all gathered in a handful of sheds around Slieht.”
Chestnuts muttered something. “That bad, huh.”
A deep breath, hoisting and bobbing her chest in the barrow basket of her cart. “So we're headed to Adilan estate?”
“You seemed keen on targeting them, I know other nobles are better connected, with more value, both in deeds and coin.”
“Adilan's got authority to broke new latter Patentia, without those credentials…”
“’Be a real thorn in the side of the nobility,” Chestnuts mused. She stopped a block away from the target, and hid behind the cart as if preparing to set up shop. “You clear that not even a mouse will disturb you once inside?”
“I know their schedule, he's almost never in.”
“Run through the plan one more time.”
“It'll be a sinch. I'll head in first through a side transom when the area is clear, scope it out, and find the documents, and his authority shield. Without that, he’s a mole in a tree. Although, that last part's unwieldy, can't exactly sneak out with it. So, a quarter after me you'll park your cart in the way of the transom and bring a package to the door, pick the lock. Knock, I'll fake an answer to let you in. We'll meet up, store me and the goods in your goodibags, and you'll leave unseen without any being in there for any suspicious amount of time.”
And that is just about how it went down.

~ 1 ~

The workroom was dark with a mere sliver of light peering in through a closed window hatch. You lowered the shield off of the wall, depicting an inscription of a quill writing on a hammer, and and hoisted it towards Chestnuts.
“You got it?” You asked.
“Just gimmie a moment,” came her reply.
“On that topic…”
You felt the muscles in your arm stiffen, whilst the sinew in your leg twitched in anticipation for a sprint. That voice…
From the corner of the room, by an ornate desk, a shadow rose from the chair. It reached for their ears. -Plth- -Pltch- and excavated a pair of earbuds from the fuzzy moth head. “I could equally well use a moment of your time.”
You could feel Chestnuts's breath hounding down your neck. “You said they were never in…”
“Oh no, I am never in the office. Far too many solicitors. Would spare me nary a moment to think. You, on the other hand, I'll spare the trouble of dealing with.” The moth clapped his hands together with conviction. “Reginald, uninvited company, my office.”
A flutter of torn beddings was followed by a series of stomps towards the door. You hugged the wall as the door swung open to a hulking cabinet of a man.
“And what exactly makes ‘em think they'd be fine trespassing?”
Chestnuts dropped the authority shield, and unveiling her knockers. “Oi, peek at these tits.”
“You think you could get the better of mmm… m-mmy ass, those melons are enormous.”
Perfect. You made made your move, launching into the back.
“Whoa hoaa-,” he stumbled forwards, enough for Chestnuts to get a grasp behind his head and plunge him down into the cushions. -Thhhwwnndddffpm- Her bosom quaked as the man's head sunk in between the blubber, parting to engulf him in the embrace of lissome fat.
-Chhrrlspth- Then a rip and rend of meat rippled through the air, as a secluded seams in her cleavage parted open. -Chshrrlpsth- Reginald's weight betrayed him as the momentum of the fall carried his shoulders in the parting bust. A Grind of sleek skin kneading over clotted and folding clothes shaking through the air as the guardian lodged ever deeper in Chestnuts's cleft. -Chhrrlptht- -Ghrlrpghcbhgs- She hefted her breasts upwards, and another arm’s length of the guard vanished. -Chrlrpth- Down to his crotch. -Cwhfrllfprht- down to his knees- Chestnuts’s clasping her tits together over his feet -Cttwwppplgshhsh-, the tatas devouring the man who entered the room not a moment ago, whole, and alive.
Chestnuts grappled her tits -Chrrlllptghng- and hoisted them up, jostling them to and fro with an animate clacking and scramble of clutter of muted writhing -Dkltlptstps-. As she juggled her jugs it sounded like she housed an entire antique store in those tatas. She stirred and shook her lobbing globes of voluptuous volume. And it all bounced, bounced and jiggled to the swing and clutch of her palms -Bbtwwwngs- the lissome seas of bosom blubber cresting over in waves of blubber over the frills of her dress. -Chhdttghs- She rattled up her chest, -Clpght- bouncing and shaking the the life out of them for all she could muster in the curvaceous mounds. Once she was satisfied, she reeled back, grappled a hold of the front of her tits – a few fingers hooking into the crease of her tits – -Krrhhllpslsh- pried them open and thrust forwards.
-Cbbttwbbggnggs- The guard's body lobbed out, decanting the guard form her chesticles. Launching the dazed and stirred Reginald straight into a bookshelf. The Hulking man crashing into the world, tearing a shelf down and wheezing with the faint breath still in his lungs.
“Phfaa-… urrhgh-… ” Before slumping his head down, a vacant growl from his blubbering mouth. “Bb… b-boobs…,” he mumbled, and passed out.
“Phfshaaa. Mmmfp, haa… Hoa, phaa…” Chestnuts heaved and panted, trailing a finger along the gaping, open chest, sealing it shut in the digit's wake.
You saw sweat at her forehead…
During all of this, Adilan simply stood, observing… scrutinizing. “Understood… so those were not just for show. You are some form of Oknytt then.”
Chestnuts twisted her head, grunting in his direction.
“Or, Vaesen? Whichever moniker you deem yourself by.”
“That's none, of your business,” you say, stepping forward to her defence.
“Fair,” the noble noted, stepping closer, enough to see the hidden wingspan on the moth's neck and the fuzz of his mane. “What is my business are the documents you've strewn across my floor.”
“You did see what we did with Reginald, huh?”
“Quite.” He spoke cautiously, practised terms, a low & mediated tone. “Impressive, certainly. Quite the feat. But do you truly believe, I would stock my estate with the mere one guard?” he said raising his fingers in a pinched grip.
Chestnuts swallowed. With her throat twitching in its wake.
You scanned the surroundings for other possible escape routes.
Then, Adilan clutched his hand into a fist, lowered it, and turned his chair around, opening his palms to you. “About that moment I wished from you. Shall we take it now?”

~ 2 ~

Seated in two chairs on one side of the office door, you stared at Adilan at the other end. His wide, blank pupils threading down your frames.
“Did you hear Guild Crustacean's Latter patentia was stolen?” He asked.
You said nothing.
“They can still carry out business – their reputation carries weight – but without it being official, and with this little… incident, trust is faltering.”
You glanced towards Chestnuts.
“Be a shame,” Adilan continued, “if the nobles stopped receiving their cut of profits…”
“As if they need it,” Chestnuts curted.
Adilan raised an eyebrow. “Quite. That was in jest. But those fools will complain whether they lose a coin, a contract, or a construction, all the same. You two would not happen to know, who took it?”
“Assuming a lot,” you mumbled.
“Money talks,” he replied, “and thieves carry more money than most.”
“Cut this out…” Chestnuts grunted. “Why are you playing with us? You have more than enough to get us thrown in a dungeon, so why don't you hop to it.”
Adilan's brow furrowed. “My dear, miss… mm…”
Chestnuts parted her lips to reply.
“Chestnuts,” I interjected.
She turned to me with a glour.
Adilan the noble scoffed. “Apt. But tell me, Chestnuts,” he seemed to struggle with the word, “why would I ever throw such a fine pair of assets in a dungeon? Where nobody could see them?”
This was perhaps the second first for you today. Because Chestnuts… blushed. She covered up her chest. Which only meant crossing her arms over it and, -Bbwngnsh- smushing the supple dunes in the desert of fun bag fat to dome out between her arms. “You wouldn't…”
“Don’t you even think about doing anything unsemly to her,” you spat out.
The noble hurried to hold up his palms. “Easy, my sincerest apologies. By assets I did not infer to… yours, in particular… But rather, the two of you.”
You sat back down. “I'm listening.”
“I am of the opinion to make friends, rather than prisoners. You two have managed to infiltrate the guild, and if that is your first job where you left any trails, who knows what else you have accomplished. I am certain there is some sum, which we can come to a favorable agreement on-.”
“I. Am not. Taking any bribes.” Chestnuts grunted in frustration.
“I see.” He paused, eyes lingering on his authority shield on the ground. “Then would you consider, an invitation?”
Your ears stood on end. He didn't mean…
Adilan smiled. “I can offer you, an invitation, to nobility.”
Chestnuts's eyebrows folded. You placed your hand on her shoulder.
“I have the resources, a few strings pulled can unravel this excuse of a noble tapestry. Or, stitch a new patch onto it. Housing, food, resources… status.”
“That is…,” you began, dragging your words, “an… inexplicably, generous offer…”
Adilan leaned back in his chair. “Prisoners are inherently less valuable than allies. Besides,” he said with a hushed sneer, as if weary someone was listening, “you are more honest folk than most of Slieht’s upper echelon.”
You could taste the perspiration in the air from Chestnuts beside you, and not all of it from her overexerted humps – though, she was actually listening.
“Who knows for certain?” the mediator said, weaving his fingers together, “perhaps I know a few cream-tops who could do with a… shall we say, reduction in their investments.”
You peered over at Chestnuts. She mirrored your gaze.
A moment passed in silence. Seconds ticked by. “I do apologise,” he said and rose, “I can be a be a bit ‘hot on the porridge’, so to say. How about you two think it over?” He strode to the door, and let it swing open, “when you come back, do so without the aid of lockpicks.”
You exchanged another glance. Then stood. “We'll keep it in mind.”
While you were walking out through the door, Adilan put his hand on Chestnuts's shoulder. “I believe you, still, have something of mine?”
Chestnuts scoffed, plunged her hands into her tits with a squelch of dunking into a pool of caramel -Cslptth-, and fished out a pair of documents. -Ptcllrsh- placing the damp papers in Adilan's grip.
“… Thank you…”
“'Welcome,” she huffed, before leaving the building.

~ 3 ~

“So?” you asked.
“So?” Chestnuts replied, “You are not seriously-.”
“It could get us places, that neither of us could on our own.”
“He's trained for mediation, to broker deals and agreements, you think he'll give us a fair deal?”
You shrugged. “We're pretty good.”
She kneaded her palm into her face in a sigh. “Just for that,” Chestnuts said and grabbed the handles of her cart, “your rent just went way up mist-.”
-Chrhtl- A clack of wood. The cart leaned forwards. Chestnuts leaned in to counterbalance, shuffling onward in the alley, but the cart creaked and cracked, tumbling forwards in her attempts to stabilize it. -Krhhrhrntk- Then the handles dislodged… The wagon rolling into a freefall. Chestnuts was left starin, clutching onto the spokes as the wagon roared down the alley. It strewed a bird’s nest of planks in its wake, shed from its hull in the tumbles and crashes. It tore down along the road below, through another nook, and finally – what still remained intact – crashed into the river.
Her knuckles trembled. “M-m… M-mm… My…” She just stared.
“That's what you deserve.”
You turned. A ragged ragamuffin clothed in scraps and a patched coat, stood across the road, pointing a big grubby finger at you.
“You are thieves, I saw you took the bread. Thieves dun deserve a home, so stop stealin' and be good,” she cried out, opening her palms to drop two piles of uprooted nails and bolts beside them.
A woman hurried from a Fattibo care home. “Sweetie, don't point at people, what would the guards say? I am so sorry,” the caretaker said.
“The guards dun listen to us anyhow,” the poor said as she was dragged off, “they're bad people.”
That was the last you heard of her before they disappeared in the crowd.
Chestnuts started at the handles, waving them in the air, pushing them forwards, as if the wagon was gonna conjure up in front of her. Again, and again.
“Hate to be the bearer of good news,” you said.
Chestnuts's arms lowered to slacken at her sides.
“We'd get more than enough resources to repair or, build a new wagon, if we took him up on the offer. Even for just a lil bit.”
Her blank eyes stared you down.
“Besides… the noble life, ain't too shabby.”

~ 4 ~

The door shut behind the intruders.
“Phahahoahaauggughch,” Adilan gasped a ghastly breath with his arms clutching his chest, falling to his knees and wheezing as his breathe fluttered on end. “Phaaaa, hoo they're gone, are gone. I did it… all that lies above the earth, I kept my calm. Hooey…” he panted in relief. Despite it all, he'd fended off a thief and a… whatever Oknytt that ‘Chestnuts’ was, all while making them believe, he really did have more than one guard on hand…

Busted, Just Jugs

aFilthySmutWriter Septia

It is time for another heist, and last time the well en-bosomed merchant and her thief companion stole vital paperwork from the largest merchant guild in Slieht, but this time, have they met their match?

This is an entry in the Busted Chronicle.
Find the other stories in the Busted Chronicle hub.

Proofreader for this story was Dendollae, many thanks to them.

The Icon was sketched by Pbysteria.

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(Character Quote: "We are not for hire." -Chestnuts)

(Quick guide:

Stealing bread, Chest eating bread, breast vore, plotting.

After 1st: The heist. Busted. Guard, breast vore, tumble, booby bounce the bouncer.

After 2nd: Dealings, prospects, propositions.

After 3rd: Considering offer, tragedy.

After 4th: Epilogue. )


Cent: Short term for centimetre.
Deci: Short term for decimetre.
Chronicle: A series of stories connected but not sequential. Ongoing stories without regular updates.
Rapacitor: A predator who eats for the sake of greed and gluttony.)

A sleek, pleasing, .pdf version of this story can be downloaded by clicking this text.

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[Story preview:

The workroom was dark with a mere sliver of light peering in through a closed window hatch. I lowered the shield off of the wall, depicting an inscription of a quill writing on a hammer, and and hoisted it towards Chestnuts.
“You got it?” I asked.
“Just gimmie a moment,” came her reply.
“On that topic ”
You felt the muscles in your arm stiffen, whilst the sinew in your leg twitched in anticipation for a sprint. That voice

Continued in the story above.]