chapter 2

Before she knew it, it was time to get up. The maids styled her hair in a cascade of curls and artfully framed them around her face. They lined her eyes with Kohl but nothing else. As one maid explained: "We Lothorians don't wear much makeup. Best to let one's natural beauty speak for itself."

Mrella gulped. She wanted him to see as little of her natural beauty as possible.

The maids dress her in a dark purple quarter sleeve garment with an empire waist. They called it an eating gown. Thankfully, it hid much of her frame as it billowed around her. Oddly enough, there was no corset - just a brassiere and a pair of panties. The princess has never felt so underdressed.

"Won't the king mind how understated I look?"

"I doubt it, love," one of the maids says, "We tend not to get decked out at meals. It's best to dress in a way that lets you expand."

"Expand?!"

"Of course! Why we'll fatten you up in no time flat."

"But ... what if I don't want to? Get fat, that is?"

"Are you saying you want to be skin and bones?"

"Well, maybe not this thin. But not drastically bigger."

The maids look at her as if she wanted to bathe in broken glass.

"I mean, I guess you could," another maid interjects, "But why would you? The food is so good. And fattening up is so much fun."

"And the sex is so much better," another pipes up, "Feeling my husband's fat gut resting on my butt as he takes me from behind..."

The maids break into a tittering fit. Mrella flushes in, but not from embarrassment. If only she could feel Saddiq's belly wobbling on top of her as he pounds away.

"Oh, you sure are a lucky one," says the maid, "King Saddiq is one of the most handsome in the land. Generous too. Why most of the Lothorian women would love to be in your shoes."

Mrella grimaces. Though she knows it's meant to be encouraging, she can't help but feel anxious. It's just a reminder of how easily replaceable she is if King Saddiq tires of her. Sure, he's done nothing to suggest he'd do that, but she's heard of kings that have gotten a younger, hotter lover when their wives lose their charm. Some have even died under mysterious circumstances or were executed for treason. She can only hope to be spared such a fate.

A butler arrives to take her to the king's sitting room. After that, it'll just be the two of them - unchaperoned, no less. She's surprised but not ungrateful. It's unheard of in Timoa for two unmarried people to be unchaperoned for fear of impropriety. However, Princess Mrella couldn't care less about impropriety.

She wants to touch her fiance - feel how soft he is to the touch. She wants to see how well she can feel the muscles underneath his flab. She wants to taste his lips and leave him breathless. But most of all, she wants to hear him say he wants her.

The king sits at a large table laden with food. The rich seasonings leave her salivating and her stomach rumbling. The king stands when he sees her and helps her to the chair next to him. Her heart hopelessly stutters. She hadn't expected this to be so intimate, but she isn't complaining.

The king changed out of his white and gold suit into a loose forest green shirt and black stretchy pants.

"I'm glad that you could join me, my dear."

"Where else would I have gone but here?"

"Well, yes. But I am glad all the same. Dinner tastes better with pleasant company."

Mrella feels herself melt a little. He sits close to her, the spicy scent of his cologne driving her mad with lust.

"I know you're hungry. So I took the liberty of getting simple fare. We normally eat a lot of rich food, but I feared it would make you sick. What with the famine and all."

"How thoughtful, your Majesty."

"Please, call me Saddiq. We are to be wed, and you will be my queen." He purrs the word "queen," and it takes everything she has not to swoon. Mrella is so glad she's sitting down.

They sit and chat about their lives. Mrella waxes poetic about Timoa while Saddiq tells of the shenanigans he used to get into as a child.

"The cook was so mad at me that I thought he'd kill me. So I made a mad dash outside and tried to climb up a tree."

"Tried?" Mrella asks between giggles.

"Well, I didn't get very far. I got to the first branch, and my fat butt broke it. After that, my parents made me scrub pots for a week."

"Well, that's what you get for being a tiny terror."

"Excuse you. I haven't been tiny a day in my life." He wobbles a juicy thigh for emphasis.

Mrella leans back in her chair. Her stomach is painfully full. She didn't realize how much she had eaten between the delicious taste and the conversation. It's impossible to see it from her gown, for which she is thankful, but the food sits heavily inside. She needed to rub her stomach, but she had no idea how to be subtle.

"Would you like me to rub your belly?"

So much for subtility. As weird as it is, Mrella would love nothing more than for him to touch her. Perhaps if she played her cards right, he'd touch more than her overfilled middle. Maybe he'd let her touch him.

She must have taken too long to answer because his face looks less confident, and he seems to be babbling. Then, finally, Mrella realizes she hasn't been listening and tunes back in.

"-I mean, I get it, cultural differences and all. Just- just forget I said anything. I have made such a fool of myself. Did I say that aloud? Why did I say that aloud? Why am I still talking?"

He's just as nervous as I am. Princess Mrella grabs his wrists and places his hands on either side of her bloated belly in a fit of boldness. She looks amused to see him short circuit for a moment. He tentatively flexes his fingers and then gently massages her. She moans appreciatively. His talented fingers soothe the tightness and aid her digestion. She can feel herself start to nod off a bit. Then she feels a gas pocket shift. Next thing she knows, she unleashes a mighty belch right in Saddiq's face.

The princess blushes and falls over herself, apologizing. The king just howls in laughter. His belly and chest wobble around in an oddly pleasing fashion.

"Don't worry about it. A good belch is the sign of a good meal. I know I belch up a storm when I get myself good and stuffed. Takes me more food to get there, but you'll be able to keep up." His hand slides down to her boney hip and gives it a squeeze, "You'll fatten up beautifully in no time."

"And if I don't?" Mrella asks hesitantly.

Saddiq shrugs. "No idea why you wouldn't, but if you don't - you don't. You'll be my queen no matter what."

Mrella has no idea where the sudden boldness came from. One moment Saddiq was looking at her with such tenderness. The next, she grasped her fiance by his soft cheeks and passionately kissed him. She usually is quite reserved. Yet, there is something about the king that makes her crave more.

Saddiq kisses her back with as much passion. His lips taste like their dinner and wine. She's utterly intoxicated, and it's not enough. The princess climbs on his lap. His belly takes up nearly half of it, but she doesn't care. She needs him like air. She'll take as much as she can get. Then his stomach growls, and reality comes crashing back in.

Mrella looks at his mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips. And that's when she knows that he's just as besotted as she is. She laughs and kisses his cheek. She is not ready to get off yet - her craving remains unsatiated. Instead, she grabs a plate of sauce-laden meats and gently feeds him. Saddiq has no idea what he did for this to happen, but he's pleased with the development.

She feeds him with one hand and rubs his belly with the other. She takes care to explore every fold and crease she can find. Meanwhile, he braces her by holding onto her nonexistent backside and rubs her stuffed belly with the other. It doesn't take long before his soft middle is firm with the glut of food she's shoved inside him.

They stay in each other's arms for the rest of the evening. Somehow, a week seems too long. Mrella knows that a week isn't much time at all. It's just enough time to prepare the ceremony and allow the guests to come. In a way, she's thankful for the famine. She'd probably married a Timoan noble instead. But Saddiq is hers now, and she will make sure he'll crave no one else but her.
The rest of the week finds her glued to his side. He shows her the palace, the grounds, and his favorite spots in the kingdom. Saddiq insists they travel by carriage. He takes advantage of the privacy to feel her up. Not that she minds. If anything, she probably fondles him more than he does her.

He is especially eager to show her the Lothor's culinary delights. He only feeds her a few mouthfuls of various rich and creamy dishes off his own overflowing plates. Still, she ends up constantly eating all day. She feels bloated by the end of the day, but it's hard to care when he's being so attentive. He tries hard not to go anywhere but her belly and above the shoulder.

She feels a little self-conscience about her emaciated form. She'd love to have proper tits to suckle and have a rump big enough to grip. Sure, Saddiq seems to like her well enough, but she wants it for herself. She doesn't want to get fat, but perhaps being a bit shapelier would be nice.

She can't eat much more than she's already eating. Realistically, it's only been a week, and she hasn't been eating much for three years now. But she wants to be softer for her fiance. She wants him to hold her and never want to let go - to crave her so much that it hurts. She needs him to crave her as much as she does him.

Before she knows it, it's her wedding day. Her parents, unfortunately, cannot come. Instead, their focus is on making sure the food King Saddiq sent gets distributed well, and the soil scientists are getting as much support as possible. The king includes as many Timoan wedding traditions and her favorite foods as possible to make up for this. Somehow, Mrella fell even more in love with him than before.

King Siddiq stood at the alter wearing traditional blue and silver Timoan form-fitting robes to show their unity. Every roll and bulge is on display. Mrella can't help but salivate. Perhaps he'll eat himself out of his robes - shred his stitches with his oversized gut. She'd love to see the fat ooze out and jiggle like dough.

Mrella, on the other hand, is wearing a gold and white Lothorian gown. She looks ethereal as she seemingly floats down the aisle. She's the smallest person there. Yet, aside from some pitying looks undoubtedly at her small size, no one makes a big deal about it. She feels like an outsider. No one else has green skin, and her eyes are absolutely massive. But oddly, the only thing of importance to them is her size.

She feels both discouraged and comforted by that.

The ceremony is lovely. The bride and groom exchange vows, and Mrella becomes the queen of Lothor. Saddiq sweeps her off her feet when it's time to kiss and kisses her with breath-stealing passion. She has half a mind to skip the reception altogether.
Food and wine flow aplenty. Mrella tucks in with gusto. Saddiq is much more sedate - mindful of the restrictive fabric. She feels vaguely disappointed but shrugs it off. If he gets too full, her wedding night will be sorely lacking. Plus, there will be time for that later.

The reception feast goes on late into the evening. The singing and dancing are far more lively than anything in Timoa's more sedate culture. She's a little surprised by how active they are. Their girth sways to and fro in time to the bet, but they never slow down. It's freeing somehow.

She tries to dance with Saddiq. However, she seems to have grown two left feet and keeps smashing his poor toes. Finally, her husband makes the executive decision to just sway together in time to the music.

Husband ... Mrella rather likes the sound of that. The ring on their respective fingers is proof of their bond. He's hers just as much as she is his. She can only hope he doesn't regret it.

Suddenly a bell chimes. It's finally time for Mrella and Saddiq to spend their first night as husband and wife. The moment she craved all week was finally here. Yet she suddenly felt anxious.

The newly minted queen suddenly remembered how the famine took away her few curves. She knows that he'll be understanding. He's too good a person not to. But will he like what he sees?

Her husband effortlessly picks her up and gently sets her on the bed. They'll be sharing a suite, judging by how both of their stuff is in the room. It's a bit odd seeing that her own parents have dedicated suites. It's rather intimate.

Saddiq tries to take off his suit in a sexy way. Unfortunately, it's tighter than he's used to and snug around his middle despite his efforts. So instead of treating his new wife to a striptease, he gets stuck in his clothes. Mrella does her best not to laugh at him. It's wonderfully humanizing to see him like this. Perhaps she's making a big to-do over nothing.

There is no saving the shirt. Mrella grabs it near the seam and pulls with all her might. It does the trick, and the shirt falls away. His padded pectorals are on full display, highlighted with light fur. The queen scoots closer to bite his soft chest and tease his sensitive nipples. Saddiq hisses in pleasure. He pushes her onto the bed, mindful not to squish her underneath his globular stomach. She enthusiastically unbuttons his pants and pushes them down as far as they'll go. He kicks them off the rest of the way.

Mrella gives his chest a break to take him all in. It's too dark to see if he has more freckles, but she can make out a surprising amount of muscle on his arms and legs. That soft, hairy belly makes him look more like a bear than she realized. He's just so big everywhere. Well, she assumes he is. His gut blocks her view downstairs. It's hotter than it has any right to be.

Saddiq hungrily reaches out to her and starts taking off her wedding dress. Mrella snaps out of it and flinches.

"My love, what's wrong?" Saddiq sits down next to her. He strokes her back in an attempt to comfort her. Mrella leans in, feeling slightly ashamed.

"I-I don't want you to see me."

"What? I don't understand. Why wouldn't I want to see you on our wedding night?"

Mrella groans, "It's my body. I look at you, and I see this handsome, sexy man. Then I look at my body and find myself wanting. I've got nothing to grab onto. I'm thinner than I've ever been, and I hate it."

Saddiq lifts her face up by her chin and looks at her face. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. He leans down and presses a chaste kiss on her plump lips. Try as she might, the tears fall down her face in shame. Saddiq sits up and cradles her face with his surprisingly soft hands.

"I don't care what you look like. You've been beautiful to be since I first laid eyes on you. I understand, though. So, we don't have to do anything tonight."

Mrella panics. "What! No! If I don't have you tonight, I think I might die!"

"My lady, you certainly know how to stroke a man's ego." Saddiq laughs.

"It's true, though. Can I just leave the dress on?"

Saddiq chuckles again. It vibrates in his chest, making her feel so wet. It really isn't fair. She decides he isn't moving fast enough and straddles his fleshy thighs. Mrella gives him another kiss before gently pushing him onto his back. His fat settles, letting her finally see his manhood.

It's not exceptionally long - only about 6 or 7 inches. But it is especially girthy, and Mrella is afraid of it tearing something. Saddiq notices her hesitation. He pulls her next to him to lie side by side, facing each other. He hikes up her dress to slip one of his fingers inside.

Mrella had never had something so thick inside her before. She's only masturbated before with her hands, and they are nowhere near as large. She pants out with little breathy moans and bounces up and down. She's drooling so much between her legs, and it's not enough stimulation. Blessedly, it isn't long before he adds a second finger.

The queen feels so full right now. Just two of his fingers are almost as big as four of hers. She can't believe someone so big exists. But then, when she thinks it can't feel any better, he starts scissoring inside her.

She's never felt so keyed up before. It feels so good, but it's hardly enough. She bucks earnestly, chasing after an orgasm just out of reach.

"Look at you," he purrs in her ear, "So greedy for my fingers. So wet and tight. I won't even need any lube. What are you going to do when I finally mount you? I bet you'll crave it, you little minx. You'll paw at me constantly trying to get your fix."

"Oh, yes!" Mrella screams, "Fill me! Ruin me! Gonna make you cum so hard. Wring every last drop out."

"Well, if my queen so wishes it-"

"She does."

"Then who am I to deny a royal decree?"

He gets on all fours over her and tries to mount her - his belly inches from pressing into her. But unfortunately, his gut blocks his view, and he can't get it in. Mrella grabs it - marveling over how heavy it is - and shifts it aside. She takes his length and carefully guides it in.

He fills her up nice and deep. His fupa presses her clit deliciously, and his middle smothers her slightly. His fat amplifies every thrust sending her into a frenzy. She hooks her legs around his waist, grateful for their length. If she were an average-sized woman, she'd never be able to manage it.

Her hands roam everywhere. Every part of Saddiq feels pure bliss - his side rolls, flabby back, and perky tits accented in chest hair. Eventually, her hands wind up buried in his silky soft curly hair. Saddiq's hands blessedly stay on either side of her body, keeping himself from crushing her.

She can feel a burning warmth spread inside her. She bucks getting closer and closer until she comes with a scream. She bears down, squeezing her husband for all he's worth. He doesn't last much longer and comes deep inside her with a groan. Finally, he pulls out and admires his handiwork.

Mrella lays there splayed on the bed with a blissed-out expression. She twitches and quivers as aftershocks wrack her body. Their mingled cum gently oozes out of her. She takes a breath and looks at him.

"How soon can we do that again?"

Saddiq laughs. His belly shakes and wobbles tantalizingly, making her want him more.

"I've created a monster."

"Yes, you have. I've got you all to myself for the next three days. We aren't leaving this suite until then."

"You dirty girl," he leers.

She sits up and puts her arms around him. "You love it, though."

"You're right," his expression suddenly tender, "I do."