Chapter 1

Marcus Cornelius was staring into the mirror. His sword training had not only increased his combat strength, but he had also gotten very athletic – rounded shoulders, bulging pectorals and a rock-hard sixpack made for a nice V-shaped look. He dried his hair and put on his tunic. He had to get going. It was his uncle Domitius’s grand feast for his first year of emperorship and he had put Marcus in charge of the organization.


When he arrived at the emperor’s palace, his uncle was in the hall. He saw Marcus and hurried over to him. „Ah, the man of the hour! Welcome, Marcus! This is quite something that you have put together here. You look great!“ Half an hour later, the guests started coming. Marcus greeted each and everyone, received their gifts and assured them they would get to congratulate his uncle later. After all the formalities, the festivities loosened up and Marcus checked with the servants that everything was going well, so he could retreat to the grand chamber, which was where the guests of political importance would go for the emperor’s banquet. It consisted of seven courses and constant entertainment. Marcus led all the senators, magistrates, grand merchants and so on to their assigned seats and then sat to his uncle’s right. The two of them had a lot of fun listening to the sketches, laughing about Domitius’s first year emperor’s troubles and mocking all the cheap attempts at flattery to the emperor that night.


Five courses in, Domitius disappeared to the vomitorium. Soon after, a servant came over to Marcus to summon him to his uncle. „I’m having trouble making room. Could you give me a hand, Marcus?“ He handed Marcus the feather and sat down. „Open wide!“, Marcus said and tried to tickle the emperor’s throat. Domitius let out a hearty sneeze. „Deodamnatus! That keeps happening.“ Marcus looked at his uncle. His uncle had changed a little. They had always been close, since Domitius had no son of his own and was very fond of Marcus. He was less strict than Marcus’s father, despite his position, and took great interest in Marcus’s endeavors. Domitius had had an exemplary military career and had always been quite fit, but Marcus had been noticing that he was growing a little bit of a belly in the weeks prior. You could hardly notice it when he was wearing his toga, but now that he was sitting in the vomiting chair and after five courses without emptying, Marcus could see his belly resting in his lap. Marcus was strangely aroused by this sight, having his dear uncle sit in front of him in the vomitorium in this very vulnerable state. „Well, seems like the perfect time to find out if you can make all nine courses without vomiting. I bet you can’t.“ „Oh, yes I can!“, Domitius said and staggered out of the chair. Marcus quickly vomited and they returned to the banquet.


A couple of sketches and courses later, Domitius looked even fuller, to the point where he would recline in his lectus, so his swollen belly really started to dome out. Marcus immediately became aroused and felt this sudden urge to poke and prod his uncle’s belly, teasing him about the fact that he had let himself go a little. Being fat was not at all acceptable for a Roman man. It was perceived as undisciplined and just simply, weak. Especially an emperor could not afford to be seen this way, but Marcus found the thought of a vulnerable leader oddly appealing. He was amazed how oblivious, maybe even blithe, his uncle was to his recent weight gain. Marcus wondered whether any of the inferior advisors had already brought this to the emperor’s attention and just thinking about that situation turned him on so hard that he had to make sure nobody noticed anything.
Then, he decided to enjoy this little development before it was being undone for political reasons. He gave his food-comaed uncle a gentle little poke in his bulging side. The big guy flinched, but did not seem to mind the poke, considering who it was coming from. „Yes, my dear?“ „Can I bring you some more wine, Uncle?“ „I will take anything you bring me, Marcus.“, he purred, a little louder than he would have if he had been entirely sober, and Marcus noticed a few heads turn. He saw his father, Tiberius, who was lying down the mensa a little to their left. He was looking at his brother in disgust, and Marcus immediately knew what he was thinking. The two men did not have the best relationship and Tiberius would never let himself go like that. His manliness was very important to him and he would not allow himself to be vulnerable like that. He shot Marcus a puzzled look. Marcus could see that other guests shared his father’s opinion. He got up to get the wine. When he returned , his uncle was munching on fruit again, absent-mindedly rubbing his new little belly. „Let’s retreat, Uncle.“, he whispered into Domitius’s ear, who blurted out a „Yes, Sir!“ and started heaving himself out of his dining sofa. Marcus put an arm around his shoulder, gave his uncle the wine and they started walking to the emperor’s chambers.

When Marcus closed the door, Domitius patted him on the back. „What a nice feast you put together there, Marcus… To You!“, and he toasted his wine glass and emptied it in one sip. „Yes, clearly you have had a lot of fun, Uncle,“ He took his uncle’s belly in his arms and squeezed it gently. Domitius giggled. He put his hands on Marcus shoulders and just stared at him. „Well, I’m glad you had fun, but it is bedtime for you, Mister. You have an important meeting with the senate tomorrow.“ „Yes, Sir!“, Domitius repeated and started waddling to the restroom. Marcus returned to the feast and spent the rest of the night small-talking to guests and escorting them out one by one.


When he got home, a servant told him that his father had sent for him. He walked to his study and found him pacing. „There you are! Can you explain to me what happened tonight?!“ „What do you mean?“ „What do I mean?! That moron has made a complete fool of himself! Gorging himself into a blimp and then displaying it for the whole world to see without a care in the world!“ „He is hardly a blimp. He has gained a little weight, but it’s not the end of the world. I think you are just looking for anything bad in him.““I don’t need to look… it is blatant. And I’m not the only one.“ „What is that supposed to mean?“ His father was a powerful senator who did not care to engage in gossip, so when he said this it must mean something big. Marcus knew his father was very jealous of his uncle’s position, but he also profited from it, so he was curious what he was getting at. „The Senate is tired of your uncle and wants him out of office.“ „Is that the Senate’s or your wish?“ His father glared at him. „Careful how you talk to me, Son! I have been wondering for a while where your loyalties lie… with me – your father, mentor and the person who made you… or that… that… that waddling wimp.“ „I care for both of you, you know that, Father.“ „Well, it’s time for you to make a choice! Domitius is a disgrace to this family, this city and this empire, and it is time for a change!“ „So you want to intrigue against him?“ „No. I want YOU to do that!“ Marcus stared at his father in disbelief. „This has already been planned. There is a trusted assassin to instruct you and you will meet him tomorrow. Time to find out who you really are, Son.“, Tiberius said, with a stern face, and left the room.