The king’s game [Gaining]
Story created by Original Gainer Stories. You can find more in his tumblr profile.
Standing in line, Simon’s heart was beating. He had a vague recollection of the King’s father coming here many years ago, when he was just a boy, but he had never even seen his son, the new King Julian. The whole county had been buzzing all week long in anticipation and Simon, along with his two older brothers, had bathed and dressed in their finest clothes in preparation. The King was coming to dine at their house, and they would most certainly be ready.
Simon did not know what to expect from the King. Handsome by all accounts, ascending to the throne at the age of only eighteen, he had produced three male heirs before his wife, the Queen, had died at the age of twenty-two. Would he be a sad and melancholy soul as a result? Simon didn’t know what he would say to him, if he even got the chance to.
A carriage arrived amidst more men on horses than Simon had ever seen in these parts. He wondered if his father had accounted for this many horses in the stables. Then, stepping out of the carriage, came a very well dressed and handsome man. The rumours had been right. King Julian was a beauty to behold. Taller than any other man by his side, Julian’s long, dark blonde hair framed his handsome, masculine face. Below, even his fine clothes could not distract from the impressive stature of his body underneath: broad chested, muscular and slim around the waist; it was a wonder that maidens did not faint at the sight of him.
Before long, Simon’s father was beside the king, introducing him to his wife, then Simon’s older brother Jerome. He had moved on to speak to Simon’s other brother, Richard, when the king’s eyes caught sight of Simon and he ignored Richard altogether. “Is this your boy as well?” asked the king, looking Simon up and down. “I rarely see a man as tall as I am!” marvelled the king.
“Yes,” smiled Simon’s father, pleased that Simon had somehow managed to impress the king. “This is my youngest son, Simon.”
“Marvellous!” remarked the king, admiring Simon once more, before walking into the dining hall.
The evening had been a resounding success. The king had appeared to enjoy himself thoroughly, getting rather merry with wine. Simon’s father had talked up his older brother Jerome for a position within the king’s court; that’s what the entire evening had been all about after all. But Simon couldn’t help feeling the King’s attention coming back to him instead, as he ate the finest foods of the county.
“Well, as you know,” the king bellowed, getting louder with drink. “I am tasked with finding a husband for my youngest sister. The rumours are true. You, Lord Southrose, certainly have three very handsome young men for me to consider!”
“Well, there would be none better than my first born, Jerome,” began Simon’s father, reaching a hand across to Jerome’s shoulder. “He would make a fine husband for any young princess!”
Jerome smiled proudly, feeling that he time had come.
“Yes,” nodded the king. “He is a fine fellow indeed,” agreed the king. But he turned instead to Simon’s mother. “I see all of your boys eat well. But tell me, which of your boys enjoys his food the most?”
Simon’s mother laughed. She did not need to think about the question hard. “Oh, undoubtedly my youngest, Simon!” she chuckled, having overindulged on wine herself. “The servants dubbed him the ‘kitchen rat’ because, even when he was little, he would be down there pilfering for extras!”
“Is that so?” remarked the king, looking up at Simon, who blushed with embarrassment.
“I apologise,” Simon’s father began, suddenly ashamed of both his wife, as well as Simon. “Unlike his brother, my dear son Jerome has never been one for overindulgence.”
“On the contrary,” the king smiled, his eyes looking fully at Simon. “A good appetite on a man is exactly what I’m looking for! How else does one survive a life in court?” he laughed. Then he nodded and spoke directly to Simon, “I thought your mother would name you. I was watching you eat. No man grows so tall without a good appetite like that!” he marvelled. “A fine young fellow indeed!” he finished.
Simon gulped. As the third son, he was unused to this attention.
“Although…” the king continued, looking sceptical. “…He does not look especially stout for a man with an appetite such as you describe.”
“Well, he is still young!” Simon’s dad stated quickly, abandoning his campaign for Jerome immediately. “He is not yet nineteen! He has not had the time to grow as stout as the other men in your court.”
The king nodded, seeming to accept the lord’s explanation. “My sister will be ready to marry in about a year’s time. I feel your boy Simon would be a fine match,” nodded the king, making Simon wonder how he had reached such a conclusion so quickly. “I thank you for your hospitality,” announced the king, suddenly standing up and ending the evening. “I will return to these parts in a few months’ time,” he said, turning to Simon’s father. “I look forward to enjoying your hospitality once again Lord Southrose.”
“We would be most honoured!” bellowed Simon’s father, bowing.
The king took one last, lingering look at Simon and seemed to smirk. Then, he nodded his head and left the room.
The next morning, everything had changed. Simon suddenly felt as if he had become the eldest son, for the attention that was washed upon him was so great. He sat and gawked as extra plates were brought to him at breakfast. “Eat up, dear Simon!” ordered his father. “You have gained the king’s favour. You have an important role to play in advancing our family.”
Simon nodded. He had always expected to enter the church. A life that would suit him as he didn’t much favour the idea of marriage. Women had never much captivated him as much as the menfolk. Now he seemed to be being prepared to marry none other than the Princess Eleanor herself. Still, it was his duty to his family. Jerome had endured that burden for many years; now it was his turn. He took a sip from the milk in his cup and almost spat it back out. “What’s this?” he asked, wondering whether it had turned.
“The finest cream in Southrose!” his father retorted. “Now get it down you. The king expects you to be looking well-fed like his men in court when he next sees you - so, well-fed is how you are going to be! Maybe if we’re lucky, we can stop you growing upwards and start pushing you outwards.”
Jerome stared at Simon bitterly from across the table.
“At worst, we will have to put some padding underneath your clothes for the king’s next visit. But if you do as you’re told, it may not come to that,” his father reasoned.
Despite being the youngest member of a noble family, Simon had never been allowed to eat as he did now. Indeed, now he had more food than he could manage! Everyone was in on it, it seemed. Cook was roasting up whole joints for his midday luncheon, dairy-herds were acquired with the richest milk and he even wore a posey of strange herbs which had supposedly helped another lord’s wife gain weight whilst she was pregnant.
Simon almost felt like it wasn’t his own body anymore; everyone seemed to have some sort of ownership over it. At least one servant was there whilst he ate every meal, clearly with the intention of reporting back to his father if he failed to finish what he was given. Simon went to bed every night with his bloated stomach aching. He hadn’t been allowed out in weeks for fear of him overexerting himself. This was his family duty.
“All this food and I would have expected more from him by now,” his father noted bitterly as Simon stood there in-front of him, as well as the local apothecary.
“You can see it in his cheeks though,” noted the apothecary, gazing at Simon as if he were not even in his body.
Simon was pleased; everyone seemed to notice how full of face he was getting. His long, slim facial features seemed to be filling out just as they were hoping.
“Yes,” agreed Simon’s father ungratefully. “And you can see it in his oversized rear,” his father continued, prodding Simon in his soft buttock with his walking stick. “But where is the large stomach you promised by now?” his father asked the apothecary accusingly.
Simon frowned. He could feel the fat in his stomach growing every day. It started with a little extra softness and then it had seemed to spread, circling his midsection and expanding almost nightly. When he sat, he could feel the skin starting to roll over his undergarments, but as he stood now, it hardly looked very impressive at all.
“It will come,” nodded the apothecary. “Give the boy some time!”
“I don’t have much time to give!” shouted Simon’s father, suddenly extremely angry. “This boy is the best chance I have of gaining further favour with the king - and I will not let your insufferable incompetence ruin my chances!”
“Well then,” nodded the apothecary, trying to recover from the outburst. “Might I suggest you feed him your fattest pig this week?”
Simon sat at the dinner table gorging well after everyone else had finished. He had got used to this treatment now and he was even able to block out Jerome and Richard’s jealous stares.
“I see what the king meant,” nodded his father, more hopeful. “It is a fine appetite my boy has!”
“If I’m honest father…” Jerome began. Simon could sense that he had been holding back for months. “…I really don’t see why you should be focusing all of your energy on Simon. I would also make a fine match for the princess.”
“How dare you question me!” shouted their father. Now that real power was so close, he was often prone to these flashes of anger. “Simon is the one the king favoured. Not you!”
“Yes father,” replied Jerome meekly. “But if the king wants men of appetite for his court, surely I would stand a better chance if I too were so well catered for?”
“Jealousy does not become you, Jerome!” their father bellowed. “It is costing me an absolute fortune to fatten-up for brother like this. You expect me to do the same with you when you made such a poor introduction of yourself at our banquet with the king?”
“Well, no. But…” squirmed Jerome.
“Then silence yourself!” finished their father, as he poured out more fresh cream out for his son.
There was a huge argument before the king arrived for his second feast with the family ten months later. Simon’s mother wanted to stuff him with cushions under his garments, whilst his father argued that he could not lie to his sovereign. As it was, Simon was bloated on cream all day so that his stomach stuck out proudly from his well-chosen clothes.
“Ah, Simon!” smiled the king, walking past Lord Southrose and straight to the fattened young man. “It is so nice to see you again,” he exclaimed, greeting him as if they were old friends. “And I see you are looking in such fine health!” the king noted, patting Simon on his little, round stomach.
Simon had almost forgotten how handsome the king was, and he couldn’t help feeling flattered as the king paid him so much attention; even if he was simply sizing him up to marry off to his sister. But just because the king was pleased with how he looked, did not mean that Simon was off the hook. He would have to gorge himself like never before during the banquet. The king was bound to be looking, just as he was last time, his father reminded him.
“Keep going…” Simon’s mother whispered into his ear. “The king has barely taken his eyes off you since you started eating.”
Already bloated beyond words, Simon pushed all that he could down inside his stomach, attempting to make it look effortless, as his father had instructed him.
“I have seen all I need to,” announced the king at the end of the evening. “Lord Southrose, your son Simon has impressed me beyond words tonight!”
Simon took a pause from his pie and tried not to look confused. He had barely spoken more than a word to the king.
“He will come to court and join my men so that we can discuss how best to ensure the Southrose family name prospers,” he nodded at Simon’s father, who looked like all his dreams had just come true. “There I will introduce him to my dear sister and, if she finds favour, we will all have a wedding to attend in the not too distant future!”
A huge roar erupted from the room and Simon was patted on the back more times than he could count. Honestly, he wished that they would not; it was hard enough to keep all this food down as it was.
Simon began his journey to court that very weekend. Loaded with orders from his father, of lands and titles he wanted Simon to acquire for the family, he set off in a fine carriage and in new clothes that proudly displayed his portly physique.
Arriving there a few days later, Simon was surprised at how hungry he felt upon arrival. He had not eaten as he had become accustomed to during his travelling. Shown to his new quarters, Simon felt suitably impressed by the appearance of the court. He was also shocked to discover that the king’s quarters were so close to his own. Surely that must carry a lot of favour – although he was not entirely sure how he had earned it.
Once in the great banquet room, Simon was surprised once again; this time at the sight of the other lords and ladies of the court. Aside from their exquisite clothes, they were not at all how he had imagined them. None but him carried such a stout figure, especially for his young age. He stuck out more than he would have liked, especially with his clothes tailored in such a way as to emphasise the portliness of his little stomach that his family had worked so hard to give him. People laughed as he told them that he had hopes to marry the Princess Eleanor – she wasn’t even here in this court, but up North, as she had been for the last three years.
“My Lords!” roared the handsome king, entering the hall and standing in-front of his throne, above them all. His eyes found Simon and a grin spread across his face. “Let us welcome to court, the young lord of Southrose, who will be staying in court for the foreseeable future.”
Polite smiles found Simon and a warm feeling rose up in him.
“As you can see from the look of the young Lord Southrose, we have had to prepare our kitchens to cater for him. Such an oversized stomach, such as the one before you, requires a lot of forethought when considering catering,” the king laughed mockingly.
Simon looked around to the titters of laughter in the court, all of them gazing at his portly stomach.
“Fear not young Lord Southrose… you shall not starve here!” the king chuckled again. “Indeed, I implore you all to observe this gluttonous, fat, young fellow, as he gorges himself for us this evening. There really are fewer more grotesque and disturbing sights in all the land…” he finished, laughing to himself as he sat down.
Simon stared as food was brought before him. All eyes in the hall were on him. He looked across at the king who raised a glass and grinned wickedly, looking directly into his eyes. His intention was clear: Eat!
Simon went to his bedchamber that night feeling more confused than ever. Not only was the Princess not here, but he had just been made a fool of in-front of the entire court. The other lords and ladies were laughing at him as he was made to eat so much. There was so much going on and he felt like he did not understand any of it.
“Lord Southrose…” came a voice in his bedchamber that night. “Lord Southrose…” it repeated as a servant, carrying a candle, gently rocked him awake. “Wake-up my lord.”
Simon rubbed his eyes and sat up as he saw the table being set beside his fire, which was being freshly stoked by the other servants. “What is it?” he asked, checking to see if any light was peeking through the curtains. It must still be very early in the morning.
“The king has had us prepare your first breakfast,” the servant announced. “I am to sit here and ensure that you eat it all.”
Simon pulled back the sheets and walked over to the table. There was more food here than his own father had expected him to eat. “The king wants me to eat it all?” he questioned.
“It’s his order my lord,” the servant nodded.
“Have I angered him or something?” Simon asked, sitting down and still rubbing sleep from his eyes.
The young servant did not reply, not until all the food had been delivered and the last other servant had left. “The king…” he whispered. “…he likes to play games.”
“Games?” Simon asked, already making a start on the bread. “What sort of games?” But the servant could not make eye-contact with him. Simon knew that speaking out against the king could see him killed. “I have no friends here,” Simon implored him. “I could use a friend like you to help me. Please!”
“The king…” the servant continued, whispering only. “…He enjoys playing with people. He likes to ensure that they do what he wants,” he stressed. “I heard him boasting to one of his lovers about how he had tricked a family named Southrose. The king had told her how the family had three very handsome sons and, somehow, he had got them to do something to one of them - and the king was going to bring that young man back here, to carry on!”
Simon sighed and looked down at his little pot stomach. His family had fattened him up like a pig for the slaughter. And now that he gazed around at the food before him, the king was going to carry on just the same.
“I hope that you enjoyed your second breakfast,” offered an old, doddering man as he entered Simon’s chambers. “I am one of the king’s tailors. I have been sent by the king to measure you for new clothes,” he smiled, holding out his measuring tape.
Simon huffed and stood up. Was this another game? Was this what his life was going to be now? One twisted game after another? He pulled down his robes and allowed the man to measure and make his records, but he noticed that the tailor did not once look into his eyes. He simply did what he needed and backed away respectfully.
King Julian was not at court every day and Simon was relieved to discover that he had a few days to find his feet before he had to endure whatever the king had in mind. The man may have been incredibly handsome, but if his servant was to be believed, that was simply masking a truly wicked interior. Simon found he was not permitted to attend the banquet hall whilst the king was away. Instead, he was only to eat in his bedchamber, as often as the king had demanded.
“Are you sure you measured correctly?” Simon asked, as the tailor arrived back a few days later. “These are very large.”
“It was the king’s order,” the man nodded.
“Why would the king insist that I wear clothes that are too big?” Simon thought aloud, before the obvious hit him – these were clothes he would fatten in to. He held out the expanse of fine material in-front of him. Now he knew he was in big trouble.
Gushing letters arrived from home telling Simon all about the king’s generosity and congratulating Simon on how well he must be campaigning for the family’s favour within court. Also, now that Simon had left, Jerome had insisted that he be fed well, so that he might have more chance of entering court next time he met the king. Simon wanted to reply, even if just to warn Jerome, but there was not even any parchment in his chambers. He was little more than a prisoner here.
The king strutted into the hall after a few more days. He had been on a hunt, he told them; reciting a thrilling tale of his own bravery, which the lords and ladies laughed and marvelled at dutifully. The king became more animated in the retelling until he finally presented the huge roasted boar that he had personally killed. “Look at him!” marvelled the king, enjoying the round of applause. “It’s almost as fat as our greedy Lord Southrose!”
The crowd laughed and the king strutted over to look at him. Simon had prepared himself for this. He had known there would be some sort of show. Why else would they have put out his older clothes for him to wear? Already they were feeling and looking tighter.
“I hope you have been leaving enough food for everyone else whilst I have been away?” asked the king, fingering a stretched button. “Something makes me doubt it though,” he chuckled, strutting back to his seat and smiling proudly. Then, once again, he raised his glass in Simon’s direction, waiting for the show to start.
Weeks went by in court and Simon could see first-hand how quickly people gained and lost favour with the king; the ladies especially, with rumours abound about how many of them he was sleeping with. Within a few short months, Simon had become one of the longest serving in court; little more than a jester for their amusement as his gluttony was paraded for them all. Simon had come to accept his lot. He must continue to provide sufficient entertainment, or face the disgrace of his family; it was certainly something he had seen happen many times over.
Overindulged on the king’s fine food, Simon felt his body swell even more. His stomach was only just beginning to find its roundness when he arrived here; now however, it sat out in-front of him like a giant ball. Similarly, his rear and thick legs also continued to expand and change the way his clothes were fitting him. Meanwhile, the servants looked on, never daring to say a single word in his defence. But what Simon hated most about his situation, was the same feeling that every woman in the court felt: Despite how flippantly the king picked them up and played with them, they couldn’t help but long for him – his body, his attention, his next move.
Simon sat, gorging on his midnight feast whilst a servant watched to ensure that he did not waste any. His door seemed to throw itself open as a fine figure walked in. The servant threw himself on his knee before Simon had even worked out who it was.
“Leave!” shouted King Julian to the servant, who did not waste any time in following through.
The king was entirely naked, parading around with one of the ladies of court, as Simon had heard rumours about. Clearly the pair had been in the middle of their love-making when the king had had the idea to come in and disturb and humiliate Simon whilst he ate.
Simon noticed the sweat dripping down the king’s muscular body as it glistened in the firelight and he tried desperately to remind himself not be aroused by the sight.
Pulling the undressed lady behind him, the king sat himself down on the chair opposite Simon, spreading his muscular thighs wide and sending the lady down to please him. Simon saw his eyes rock back into his head as the woman set to work. “Eat, pig!” demanded the king aggressively to Simon.
Simon tried not to make eye contact as he set about doing as he was told; with more urgency than ever.
The king laughed as he sat back, relaxed in the chair, getting catered for down below. “Take that night shirt off!” he ordered again.
Simon did not waste time, pulling up the shirt and allowing his overfed, fat-covered body to be seen by the king. Then, not wanting to risk being shouted at again, he picked up the food again and carried on.
The king’s eyes studied Simon’s swollen body and a wicked smirk remained on his face. “I wanted to tell you in person…” he sneered. “…I dined at the Southrose estate again last week.” He paused, breathing heavily from the good work of the woman beneath him. “I told them all how wonderfully well you’re doing here in court: how I expected an announcement of an engagement any day now.” He laughed wickedly, but even that was cut short by the pleasure that was building in his crotch. “I also saw your brothers Jerome and Richard,” he smiled, barely able to keep his eyes from closing with the sensations. “What a pair of fine porkers they’re turning in to too! Your father practically begged me to invite them to court too.”
“What…what did you say to him?” Simon asked, unable to resist, even if it meant an aggressive response from the king.
But the king seemed more pleased to be asked than anything, smiling before he replied. “I told him what fine, stout young men they were becoming and that I would certainly consider it when I return in a year’s time. Shall I invite them here?” the king asked, tapping the girl on the head and motioning for her to sit on his lap instead. She did as she was told, riding him up and down with her back still to Simon, hoping to make king Julian climax.
“No…” Simon replied meekly.
“Well then…” the Julian grinned, “…you’d better provide enough entertainment for me. Otherwise I will have all three Southrose men here, dancing to my tune.”
Simon picked up a pie and stuffed it into his face, not caring that a lot of the inside was dripping down his new fat rolls. He ate as fast as he could, hoping to put on the best show that would please the king. Julian simply watched, so mesmerised that he did not need to speak. Then, finally, in one loud groan, the king climaxed, looking directly at Simon gorging himself. Even through the walls each night, Simon had never heard the king orgasm so dramatically. He smirked as the lady climbed off him and took his hand, leading him back to his bedchamber. “Servant boy!” he called as he was leaving. “Make sure this pig finishes everything.”
It was hard not to feel a sense of pride as the king brought a new lady back into Simon’s room each and every night. He would watch and tease Simon viciously as he ate, all the while being pleasured by whichever woman he had brought along with him. Before long, he was up on his feet, standing beside Simon, physically pushing the food down into this mouth. Despite everything, the feeling was exhilarating; exciting even. For twenty intimate minutes a day, the handsome king bestowed his attention upon him.
“That’s it!” he would laugh, getting closer and closer to orgasming himself. “My big, fat… disgusting Lord Southrose!”
But one night, something entirely different happened. The king was already in Simon’s room as he arrived back from the feast. As usual, he wore not a thing; the sweat from his muscular body once again glistening from the heat of the fire he was sat next to.
Simon edged forwards wondering why the king was alone when the monarch’s deep, powerful voice shouted out, with his back still turned to him. “Remove your clothes, hog!”
Simon did as he was told, gingerly slipping off every item and slowly walking towards the king. Now the king sat in his chair, gazing at Simon’s body. He twisted his fingers limply, ordering Simon to twirl for him, so that he could see every aspect of his bloated body. Meanwhile, the king’s hand slipped down to pleasure himself at the sight, making Simon’s own manhood harden as he stood there.
“Do you know why I chose you?” smiled the king, gazing at Simon’s thick, blubbery buttocks. “My father always hated the Southrose family,” he explained. “I had heard about the fine young men of the house and thought this would be such a fascinating transformation to watch,” he chuckled, whilst tapping Simon’s rear and observing the fat ripple through his back and into his oversized stomach. “Your brother Jerome was the obvious choice, being the eldest. But when I saw how monstrously tall you were, I knew I would enjoy the challenge. That, and your seeming aptitude to overindulgence, according to your own mother,” he remembered fondly. “She really did sign you over to me, coming out with that!” he laughed again, standing up and making Simon take his warm chair instead.
The king leant over to the table and picked up what he could, pushing it firmly into Simon’s open mouth. “My father had always told me what a buffoon your father was. I knew the second I left you’d be fattened up like a pig for market. Then, I’d come in, take you away to my castle, and begin the real work!”
Julian was touching himself again, his hardness inching ever closer to Simon’s stuffed stomach. Simon could see the king’s eyes rolling back into his head as he watched Simon gorge himself for him. The sweat was pouring down his lean, muscular body. Simon pushed as hard as he could, feeling incredibly aroused to have the king all to himself, becoming so impassioned over his overgrown body. Bravely, he reached out, took hold of the king’s erection and stroked it, just as he had witness so many girls do to him before. After so long enduring this humiliation each night, Simon knew the moves that worked best on his king.
With his hands now free, Julian was able to push as much food into Simon’s mouth as he wanted. The sight seemed to make the king harder and harder, bringing him closer and closer to his climax. That was when Simon went for it. Still with a mouth half full of pie, he sat up and closed his mouth over the king’s manhood, making him orgasm instantly – louder and more aggressively than ever before. Julian had to steady himself on Simon’s shoulders as his powerful legs visibly began to buckle underneath him; almost collapsing him to the floor with the intensity of the orgasm.
The king smirked and still found it hard to open his eyes fully with the pleasure still rolling through his body. When he did stand up on his own again, his eyes looked down with more joyous disgust at Simon than ever. “I’m going to make you do that every night from now on,” he laughed, still breathing heavily as he slapped Simon on his protrusive stomach and bounced his floppy, soft former pectorals.
But King Julian could play with him all he wanted. Now Simon knew he had really found favour with the king.
Standing in line, Simon’s heart was beating. He had a vague recollection of the King’s father coming here many years ago, when he was just a boy, but he had never even seen his son, the new King Julian. The whole county had been buzzing all week long in anticipation and Simon, along with his two older brothers, had bathed and dressed in their finest clothes in preparation. The King was coming to dine at their house, and they would most certainly be ready.
Simon did not know what to expect from the King. Handsome by all accounts, ascending to the throne at the age of only eighteen, he had produced three male heirs before his wife, the Queen, had died at the age of twenty-two. Would he be a sad and melancholy soul as a result? Simon didn’t know what he would say to him, if he even got the chance to.
A carriage arrived amidst more men on horses than Simon had ever seen in these parts. He wondered if his father had accounted for this many horses in the stables. Then, stepping out of the carriage, came a very well dressed and handsome man. The rumours had been right. King Julian was a beauty to behold. Taller than any other man by his side, Julian’s long, dark blonde hair framed his handsome, masculine face. Below, even his fine clothes could not distract from the impressive stature of his body underneath: broad chested, muscular and slim around the waist; it was a wonder that maidens did not faint at the sight of him.
Before long, Simon’s father was beside the king, introducing him to his wife, then Simon’s older brother Jerome. He had moved on to speak to Simon’s other brother, Richard, when the king’s eyes caught sight of Simon and he ignored Richard altogether. “Is this your boy as well?” asked the king, looking Simon up and down. “I rarely see a man as tall as I am!” marvelled the king.
“Yes,” smiled Simon’s father, pleased that Simon had somehow managed to impress the king. “This is my youngest son, Simon.”
“Marvellous!” remarked the king, admiring Simon once more, before walking into the dining hall.
The evening had been a resounding success. The king had appeared to enjoy himself thoroughly, getting rather merry with wine. Simon’s father had talked up his older brother Jerome for a position within the king’s court; that’s what the entire evening had been all about after all. But Simon couldn’t help feeling the King’s attention coming back to him instead, as he ate the finest foods of the county.
“Well, as you know,” the king bellowed, getting louder with drink. “I am tasked with finding a husband for my youngest sister. The rumours are true. You, Lord Southrose, certainly have three very handsome young men for me to consider!”
“Well, there would be none better than my first born, Jerome,” began Simon’s father, reaching a hand across to Jerome’s shoulder. “He would make a fine husband for any young princess!”
Jerome smiled proudly, feeling that he time had come.
“Yes,” nodded the king. “He is a fine fellow indeed,” agreed the king. But he turned instead to Simon’s mother. “I see all of your boys eat well. But tell me, which of your boys enjoys his food the most?”
Simon’s mother laughed. She did not need to think about the question hard. “Oh, undoubtedly my youngest, Simon!” she chuckled, having overindulged on wine herself. “The servants dubbed him the ‘kitchen rat’ because, even when he was little, he would be down there pilfering for extras!”
“Is that so?” remarked the king, looking up at Simon, who blushed with embarrassment.
“I apologise,” Simon’s father began, suddenly ashamed of both his wife, as well as Simon. “Unlike his brother, my dear son Jerome has never been one for overindulgence.”
“On the contrary,” the king smiled, his eyes looking fully at Simon. “A good appetite on a man is exactly what I’m looking for! How else does one survive a life in court?” he laughed. Then he nodded and spoke directly to Simon, “I thought your mother would name you. I was watching you eat. No man grows so tall without a good appetite like that!” he marvelled. “A fine young fellow indeed!” he finished.
Simon gulped. As the third son, he was unused to this attention.
“Although…” the king continued, looking sceptical. “…He does not look especially stout for a man with an appetite such as you describe.”
“Well, he is still young!” Simon’s dad stated quickly, abandoning his campaign for Jerome immediately. “He is not yet nineteen! He has not had the time to grow as stout as the other men in your court.”
The king nodded, seeming to accept the lord’s explanation. “My sister will be ready to marry in about a year’s time. I feel your boy Simon would be a fine match,” nodded the king, making Simon wonder how he had reached such a conclusion so quickly. “I thank you for your hospitality,” announced the king, suddenly standing up and ending the evening. “I will return to these parts in a few months’ time,” he said, turning to Simon’s father. “I look forward to enjoying your hospitality once again Lord Southrose.”
“We would be most honoured!” bellowed Simon’s father, bowing.
The king took one last, lingering look at Simon and seemed to smirk. Then, he nodded his head and left the room.
The next morning, everything had changed. Simon suddenly felt as if he had become the eldest son, for the attention that was washed upon him was so great. He sat and gawked as extra plates were brought to him at breakfast. “Eat up, dear Simon!” ordered his father. “You have gained the king’s favour. You have an important role to play in advancing our family.”
Simon nodded. He had always expected to enter the church. A life that would suit him as he didn’t much favour the idea of marriage. Women had never much captivated him as much as the menfolk. Now he seemed to be being prepared to marry none other than the Princess Eleanor herself. Still, it was his duty to his family. Jerome had endured that burden for many years; now it was his turn. He took a sip from the milk in his cup and almost spat it back out. “What’s this?” he asked, wondering whether it had turned.
“The finest cream in Southrose!” his father retorted. “Now get it down you. The king expects you to be looking well-fed like his men in court when he next sees you - so, well-fed is how you are going to be! Maybe if we’re lucky, we can stop you growing upwards and start pushing you outwards.”
Jerome stared at Simon bitterly from across the table.
“At worst, we will have to put some padding underneath your clothes for the king’s next visit. But if you do as you’re told, it may not come to that,” his father reasoned.
Despite being the youngest member of a noble family, Simon had never been allowed to eat as he did now. Indeed, now he had more food than he could manage! Everyone was in on it, it seemed. Cook was roasting up whole joints for his midday luncheon, dairy-herds were acquired with the richest milk and he even wore a posey of strange herbs which had supposedly helped another lord’s wife gain weight whilst she was pregnant.
Simon almost felt like it wasn’t his own body anymore; everyone seemed to have some sort of ownership over it. At least one servant was there whilst he ate every meal, clearly with the intention of reporting back to his father if he failed to finish what he was given. Simon went to bed every night with his bloated stomach aching. He hadn’t been allowed out in weeks for fear of him overexerting himself. This was his family duty.
“All this food and I would have expected more from him by now,” his father noted bitterly as Simon stood there in-front of him, as well as the local apothecary.
“You can see it in his cheeks though,” noted the apothecary, gazing at Simon as if he were not even in his body.
Simon was pleased; everyone seemed to notice how full of face he was getting. His long, slim facial features seemed to be filling out just as they were hoping.
“Yes,” agreed Simon’s father ungratefully. “And you can see it in his oversized rear,” his father continued, prodding Simon in his soft buttock with his walking stick. “But where is the large stomach you promised by now?” his father asked the apothecary accusingly.
Simon frowned. He could feel the fat in his stomach growing every day. It started with a little extra softness and then it had seemed to spread, circling his midsection and expanding almost nightly. When he sat, he could feel the skin starting to roll over his undergarments, but as he stood now, it hardly looked very impressive at all.
“It will come,” nodded the apothecary. “Give the boy some time!”
“I don’t have much time to give!” shouted Simon’s father, suddenly extremely angry. “This boy is the best chance I have of gaining further favour with the king - and I will not let your insufferable incompetence ruin my chances!”
“Well then,” nodded the apothecary, trying to recover from the outburst. “Might I suggest you feed him your fattest pig this week?”
Simon sat at the dinner table gorging well after everyone else had finished. He had got used to this treatment now and he was even able to block out Jerome and Richard’s jealous stares.
“I see what the king meant,” nodded his father, more hopeful. “It is a fine appetite my boy has!”
“If I’m honest father…” Jerome began. Simon could sense that he had been holding back for months. “…I really don’t see why you should be focusing all of your energy on Simon. I would also make a fine match for the princess.”
“How dare you question me!” shouted their father. Now that real power was so close, he was often prone to these flashes of anger. “Simon is the one the king favoured. Not you!”
“Yes father,” replied Jerome meekly. “But if the king wants men of appetite for his court, surely I would stand a better chance if I too were so well catered for?”
“Jealousy does not become you, Jerome!” their father bellowed. “It is costing me an absolute fortune to fatten-up for brother like this. You expect me to do the same with you when you made such a poor introduction of yourself at our banquet with the king?”
“Well, no. But…” squirmed Jerome.
“Then silence yourself!” finished their father, as he poured out more fresh cream out for his son.
There was a huge argument before the king arrived for his second feast with the family ten months later. Simon’s mother wanted to stuff him with cushions under his garments, whilst his father argued that he could not lie to his sovereign. As it was, Simon was bloated on cream all day so that his stomach stuck out proudly from his well-chosen clothes.
“Ah, Simon!” smiled the king, walking past Lord Southrose and straight to the fattened young man. “It is so nice to see you again,” he exclaimed, greeting him as if they were old friends. “And I see you are looking in such fine health!” the king noted, patting Simon on his little, round stomach.
Simon had almost forgotten how handsome the king was, and he couldn’t help feeling flattered as the king paid him so much attention; even if he was simply sizing him up to marry off to his sister. But just because the king was pleased with how he looked, did not mean that Simon was off the hook. He would have to gorge himself like never before during the banquet. The king was bound to be looking, just as he was last time, his father reminded him.
“Keep going…” Simon’s mother whispered into his ear. “The king has barely taken his eyes off you since you started eating.”
Already bloated beyond words, Simon pushed all that he could down inside his stomach, attempting to make it look effortless, as his father had instructed him.
“I have seen all I need to,” announced the king at the end of the evening. “Lord Southrose, your son Simon has impressed me beyond words tonight!”
Simon took a pause from his pie and tried not to look confused. He had barely spoken more than a word to the king.
“He will come to court and join my men so that we can discuss how best to ensure the Southrose family name prospers,” he nodded at Simon’s father, who looked like all his dreams had just come true. “There I will introduce him to my dear sister and, if she finds favour, we will all have a wedding to attend in the not too distant future!”
A huge roar erupted from the room and Simon was patted on the back more times than he could count. Honestly, he wished that they would not; it was hard enough to keep all this food down as it was.
Simon began his journey to court that very weekend. Loaded with orders from his father, of lands and titles he wanted Simon to acquire for the family, he set off in a fine carriage and in new clothes that proudly displayed his portly physique.
Arriving there a few days later, Simon was surprised at how hungry he felt upon arrival. He had not eaten as he had become accustomed to during his travelling. Shown to his new quarters, Simon felt suitably impressed by the appearance of the court. He was also shocked to discover that the king’s quarters were so close to his own. Surely that must carry a lot of favour – although he was not entirely sure how he had earned it.
Once in the great banquet room, Simon was surprised once again; this time at the sight of the other lords and ladies of the court. Aside from their exquisite clothes, they were not at all how he had imagined them. None but him carried such a stout figure, especially for his young age. He stuck out more than he would have liked, especially with his clothes tailored in such a way as to emphasise the portliness of his little stomach that his family had worked so hard to give him. People laughed as he told them that he had hopes to marry the Princess Eleanor – she wasn’t even here in this court, but up North, as she had been for the last three years.
“My Lords!” roared the handsome king, entering the hall and standing in-front of his throne, above them all. His eyes found Simon and a grin spread across his face. “Let us welcome to court, the young lord of Southrose, who will be staying in court for the foreseeable future.”
Polite smiles found Simon and a warm feeling rose up in him.
“As you can see from the look of the young Lord Southrose, we have had to prepare our kitchens to cater for him. Such an oversized stomach, such as the one before you, requires a lot of forethought when considering catering,” the king laughed mockingly.
Simon looked around to the titters of laughter in the court, all of them gazing at his portly stomach.
“Fear not young Lord Southrose… you shall not starve here!” the king chuckled again. “Indeed, I implore you all to observe this gluttonous, fat, young fellow, as he gorges himself for us this evening. There really are fewer more grotesque and disturbing sights in all the land…” he finished, laughing to himself as he sat down.
Simon stared as food was brought before him. All eyes in the hall were on him. He looked across at the king who raised a glass and grinned wickedly, looking directly into his eyes. His intention was clear: Eat!
Simon went to his bedchamber that night feeling more confused than ever. Not only was the Princess not here, but he had just been made a fool of in-front of the entire court. The other lords and ladies were laughing at him as he was made to eat so much. There was so much going on and he felt like he did not understand any of it.
“Lord Southrose…” came a voice in his bedchamber that night. “Lord Southrose…” it repeated as a servant, carrying a candle, gently rocked him awake. “Wake-up my lord.”
Simon rubbed his eyes and sat up as he saw the table being set beside his fire, which was being freshly stoked by the other servants. “What is it?” he asked, checking to see if any light was peeking through the curtains. It must still be very early in the morning.
“The king has had us prepare your first breakfast,” the servant announced. “I am to sit here and ensure that you eat it all.”
Simon pulled back the sheets and walked over to the table. There was more food here than his own father had expected him to eat. “The king wants me to eat it all?” he questioned.
“It’s his order my lord,” the servant nodded.
“Have I angered him or something?” Simon asked, sitting down and still rubbing sleep from his eyes.
The young servant did not reply, not until all the food had been delivered and the last other servant had left. “The king…” he whispered. “…he likes to play games.”
“Games?” Simon asked, already making a start on the bread. “What sort of games?” But the servant could not make eye-contact with him. Simon knew that speaking out against the king could see him killed. “I have no friends here,” Simon implored him. “I could use a friend like you to help me. Please!”
“The king…” the servant continued, whispering only. “…He enjoys playing with people. He likes to ensure that they do what he wants,” he stressed. “I heard him boasting to one of his lovers about how he had tricked a family named Southrose. The king had told her how the family had three very handsome sons and, somehow, he had got them to do something to one of them - and the king was going to bring that young man back here, to carry on!”
Simon sighed and looked down at his little pot stomach. His family had fattened him up like a pig for the slaughter. And now that he gazed around at the food before him, the king was going to carry on just the same.
“I hope that you enjoyed your second breakfast,” offered an old, doddering man as he entered Simon’s chambers. “I am one of the king’s tailors. I have been sent by the king to measure you for new clothes,” he smiled, holding out his measuring tape.
Simon huffed and stood up. Was this another game? Was this what his life was going to be now? One twisted game after another? He pulled down his robes and allowed the man to measure and make his records, but he noticed that the tailor did not once look into his eyes. He simply did what he needed and backed away respectfully.
King Julian was not at court every day and Simon was relieved to discover that he had a few days to find his feet before he had to endure whatever the king had in mind. The man may have been incredibly handsome, but if his servant was to be believed, that was simply masking a truly wicked interior. Simon found he was not permitted to attend the banquet hall whilst the king was away. Instead, he was only to eat in his bedchamber, as often as the king had demanded.
“Are you sure you measured correctly?” Simon asked, as the tailor arrived back a few days later. “These are very large.”
“It was the king’s order,” the man nodded.
“Why would the king insist that I wear clothes that are too big?” Simon thought aloud, before the obvious hit him – these were clothes he would fatten in to. He held out the expanse of fine material in-front of him. Now he knew he was in big trouble.
Gushing letters arrived from home telling Simon all about the king’s generosity and congratulating Simon on how well he must be campaigning for the family’s favour within court. Also, now that Simon had left, Jerome had insisted that he be fed well, so that he might have more chance of entering court next time he met the king. Simon wanted to reply, even if just to warn Jerome, but there was not even any parchment in his chambers. He was little more than a prisoner here.
The king strutted into the hall after a few more days. He had been on a hunt, he told them; reciting a thrilling tale of his own bravery, which the lords and ladies laughed and marvelled at dutifully. The king became more animated in the retelling until he finally presented the huge roasted boar that he had personally killed. “Look at him!” marvelled the king, enjoying the round of applause. “It’s almost as fat as our greedy Lord Southrose!”
The crowd laughed and the king strutted over to look at him. Simon had prepared himself for this. He had known there would be some sort of show. Why else would they have put out his older clothes for him to wear? Already they were feeling and looking tighter.
“I hope you have been leaving enough food for everyone else whilst I have been away?” asked the king, fingering a stretched button. “Something makes me doubt it though,” he chuckled, strutting back to his seat and smiling proudly. Then, once again, he raised his glass in Simon’s direction, waiting for the show to start.
Weeks went by in court and Simon could see first-hand how quickly people gained and lost favour with the king; the ladies especially, with rumours abound about how many of them he was sleeping with. Within a few short months, Simon had become one of the longest serving in court; little more than a jester for their amusement as his gluttony was paraded for them all. Simon had come to accept his lot. He must continue to provide sufficient entertainment, or face the disgrace of his family; it was certainly something he had seen happen many times over.
Overindulged on the king’s fine food, Simon felt his body swell even more. His stomach was only just beginning to find its roundness when he arrived here; now however, it sat out in-front of him like a giant ball. Similarly, his rear and thick legs also continued to expand and change the way his clothes were fitting him. Meanwhile, the servants looked on, never daring to say a single word in his defence. But what Simon hated most about his situation, was the same feeling that every woman in the court felt: Despite how flippantly the king picked them up and played with them, they couldn’t help but long for him – his body, his attention, his next move.
Simon sat, gorging on his midnight feast whilst a servant watched to ensure that he did not waste any. His door seemed to throw itself open as a fine figure walked in. The servant threw himself on his knee before Simon had even worked out who it was.
“Leave!” shouted King Julian to the servant, who did not waste any time in following through.
The king was entirely naked, parading around with one of the ladies of court, as Simon had heard rumours about. Clearly the pair had been in the middle of their love-making when the king had had the idea to come in and disturb and humiliate Simon whilst he ate.
Simon noticed the sweat dripping down the king’s muscular body as it glistened in the firelight and he tried desperately to remind himself not be aroused by the sight.
Pulling the undressed lady behind him, the king sat himself down on the chair opposite Simon, spreading his muscular thighs wide and sending the lady down to please him. Simon saw his eyes rock back into his head as the woman set to work. “Eat, pig!” demanded the king aggressively to Simon.
Simon tried not to make eye contact as he set about doing as he was told; with more urgency than ever.
The king laughed as he sat back, relaxed in the chair, getting catered for down below. “Take that night shirt off!” he ordered again.
Simon did not waste time, pulling up the shirt and allowing his overfed, fat-covered body to be seen by the king. Then, not wanting to risk being shouted at again, he picked up the food again and carried on.
The king’s eyes studied Simon’s swollen body and a wicked smirk remained on his face. “I wanted to tell you in person…” he sneered. “…I dined at the Southrose estate again last week.” He paused, breathing heavily from the good work of the woman beneath him. “I told them all how wonderfully well you’re doing here in court: how I expected an announcement of an engagement any day now.” He laughed wickedly, but even that was cut short by the pleasure that was building in his crotch. “I also saw your brothers Jerome and Richard,” he smiled, barely able to keep his eyes from closing with the sensations. “What a pair of fine porkers they’re turning in to too! Your father practically begged me to invite them to court too.”
“What…what did you say to him?” Simon asked, unable to resist, even if it meant an aggressive response from the king.
But the king seemed more pleased to be asked than anything, smiling before he replied. “I told him what fine, stout young men they were becoming and that I would certainly consider it when I return in a year’s time. Shall I invite them here?” the king asked, tapping the girl on the head and motioning for her to sit on his lap instead. She did as she was told, riding him up and down with her back still to Simon, hoping to make king Julian climax.
“No…” Simon replied meekly.
“Well then…” the Julian grinned, “…you’d better provide enough entertainment for me. Otherwise I will have all three Southrose men here, dancing to my tune.”
Simon picked up a pie and stuffed it into his face, not caring that a lot of the inside was dripping down his new fat rolls. He ate as fast as he could, hoping to put on the best show that would please the king. Julian simply watched, so mesmerised that he did not need to speak. Then, finally, in one loud groan, the king climaxed, looking directly at Simon gorging himself. Even through the walls each night, Simon had never heard the king orgasm so dramatically. He smirked as the lady climbed off him and took his hand, leading him back to his bedchamber. “Servant boy!” he called as he was leaving. “Make sure this pig finishes everything.”
It was hard not to feel a sense of pride as the king brought a new lady back into Simon’s room each and every night. He would watch and tease Simon viciously as he ate, all the while being pleasured by whichever woman he had brought along with him. Before long, he was up on his feet, standing beside Simon, physically pushing the food down into this mouth. Despite everything, the feeling was exhilarating; exciting even. For twenty intimate minutes a day, the handsome king bestowed his attention upon him.
“That’s it!” he would laugh, getting closer and closer to orgasming himself. “My big, fat… disgusting Lord Southrose!”
But one night, something entirely different happened. The king was already in Simon’s room as he arrived back from the feast. As usual, he wore not a thing; the sweat from his muscular body once again glistening from the heat of the fire he was sat next to.
Simon edged forwards wondering why the king was alone when the monarch’s deep, powerful voice shouted out, with his back still turned to him. “Remove your clothes, hog!”
Simon did as he was told, gingerly slipping off every item and slowly walking towards the king. Now the king sat in his chair, gazing at Simon’s body. He twisted his fingers limply, ordering Simon to twirl for him, so that he could see every aspect of his bloated body. Meanwhile, the king’s hand slipped down to pleasure himself at the sight, making Simon’s own manhood harden as he stood there.
“Do you know why I chose you?” smiled the king, gazing at Simon’s thick, blubbery buttocks. “My father always hated the Southrose family,” he explained. “I had heard about the fine young men of the house and thought this would be such a fascinating transformation to watch,” he chuckled, whilst tapping Simon’s rear and observing the fat ripple through his back and into his oversized stomach. “Your brother Jerome was the obvious choice, being the eldest. But when I saw how monstrously tall you were, I knew I would enjoy the challenge. That, and your seeming aptitude to overindulgence, according to your own mother,” he remembered fondly. “She really did sign you over to me, coming out with that!” he laughed again, standing up and making Simon take his warm chair instead.
The king leant over to the table and picked up what he could, pushing it firmly into Simon’s open mouth. “My father had always told me what a buffoon your father was. I knew the second I left you’d be fattened up like a pig for market. Then, I’d come in, take you away to my castle, and begin the real work!”
Julian was touching himself again, his hardness inching ever closer to Simon’s stuffed stomach. Simon could see the king’s eyes rolling back into his head as he watched Simon gorge himself for him. The sweat was pouring down his lean, muscular body. Simon pushed as hard as he could, feeling incredibly aroused to have the king all to himself, becoming so impassioned over his overgrown body. Bravely, he reached out, took hold of the king’s erection and stroked it, just as he had witness so many girls do to him before. After so long enduring this humiliation each night, Simon knew the moves that worked best on his king.
With his hands now free, Julian was able to push as much food into Simon’s mouth as he wanted. The sight seemed to make the king harder and harder, bringing him closer and closer to his climax. That was when Simon went for it. Still with a mouth half full of pie, he sat up and closed his mouth over the king’s manhood, making him orgasm instantly – louder and more aggressively than ever before. Julian had to steady himself on Simon’s shoulders as his powerful legs visibly began to buckle underneath him; almost collapsing him to the floor with the intensity of the orgasm.
The king smirked and still found it hard to open his eyes fully with the pleasure still rolling through his body. When he did stand up on his own again, his eyes looked down with more joyous disgust at Simon than ever. “I’m going to make you do that every night from now on,” he laughed, still breathing heavily as he slapped Simon on his protrusive stomach and bounced his floppy, soft former pectorals.
But King Julian could play with him all he wanted. Now Simon knew he had really found favour with the king.
5 months ago
