chapter 12 part 1

Mrella and Saddiq explore their kinks.

Mrella waddles down the hall. She can't remember the last time she walked anywhere. But then again, she can't remember when she didn't have a ponderously full belly swaying with every step.

Usually, she's sitting on her growing backside, so this wouldn't be more than a momentary inconvenience. However, there's a visiting delegation from a neighboring kingdom. It's the first time she's hosted foreign dignitaries as Queen of Lothor. As such, she's been finding herself waddling all over the palace. It doesn't help that she tires more quickly these days or that her stomach refuses to miss a meal. She was late to lunch by a paltry twenty minutes and got violently hangry.

No one has let her be without food since.

All and all, it's been stressful. And when Mrella gets stressed, she eats. And when she eats, she gets horny. Unfortunately, things have been far too busy to sneak off with her husband for an afternoon quickie. This obviously makes her more stressed. It's a vicious cycle.

Today, she's meeting with the chef to go over the meal plan for the delegation. She rubs her belly in anticipation. She's far from hungry, but she always enjoys sampling new dishes. There will be a blend of Lothorian food and foods from the delegation's kingdom.

She eventually waddles to the kitchen. The queen immediately collapses into the nearest chair. It's tiring having to haul her plumpening body around. Her belly might be the largest part of her body, but the rest of her is certainly catching up. As much as she's been eating, she gets noticeably bigger every week.

The head chef walks over to her with a smile. Ever since she arrived, he has made it his personal goal to show her just how good food can be. So he was especially tickled when the king made arrangements to keep her perpetually stuffed. Even now, as he walks over, he looks at her swollen gut with pride.

"Your majesty! It is such an honor to have you here." The man is practically bursting with glee.

"Chef, I can assure you that the honor is all mine." The queen lifts her belly for emphasis before plopping it back on her lap. It wobbles violently, unleashing a belch she did not know she had.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" Mrella's whole face flushes in embarrassment.

"It's wonderful," the man chuckles, "Less air inside of you means more room to put food in you. And besides, you will be doing a lot more of that by the time we're being done."

"Well then, what are we waiting for? Bring out the dishes!"

In a flurry of movement, the kitchen staff brings out the possible menu items for the delegation. There are only a couple of bites of food per plate, but there are enough plates to feed a small army. The queen rubs her gut in anticipation. It'll be a struggle to eat them all in one sitting, but she's confident she can do it.

They spend hours fine-tuning the menu. It's easy at first. There are twenty different appetizers, but the portions are tiny. Mrella pops a couple of melon balls in her mouth after eating a plate to clean her palate. By the time that's done, the queen hardly feels like she ate anything. Distantly she realizes that she would be utterly stuffed if she had eaten all of this rich food years ago. However, she's stretched her stomach so much that this is hardly a drop in the bucket.

Then come the main courses. Unlike the lighter appetizers, these dishes a much heavier. By the time the Queen polishes off a third of these dishes, she is now comfortably full. She caresses her belly, noting how it expands in her lap. She wonders if it'll pin her to her seat after eating everything.

Halfway through, she has to spread her legs and let her belly rest between her thighs. Then, she takes a small break to let things settle a bit.

"Are you getting full, Your Highness?" The chef asks.

"Just a tad, but I have plenty of room still." She massages her belly, feeling the firmness of her stomach underneath an ever-thickening layer of fat. Her stomach grows more prominent underneath her loose dress. An image of her belly straining the dresses confines in her mind. It's hotter than it has any right to be.

The queen manages a couple of belches and tucks back in. With every bite, she can feel her middle grow tighter and tighter. By the time she's done, she's utterly stuffed. Her middle feels rock hard, and her skin is stretched as tight as a drum. Mrella slumps back into her chair, belching uncontrollably. She feels an overwhelming urge to fall asleep right here and now but fights it off.

"That was absolutely divine, chef. I can't wait for the finalized dinner."

"I am glad to hear you say so, my queen. Perhaps after you digest, we can move on to the desserts."

It was at this point Queen Mrella finally succumbed to her horniness. "How many desserts would I be tasting?"

"Not many. Just five."

"And they would be small portions?"

"Of course. But there is no hurry."

Mrella looks at her belly and gently prods it. She is undoubtedly at her limits - even now, her breathing comes in labored pants. But, she thinks to herself, I think I can manage just a little bit more.

"It's fine," she says, "I believe I can continue."

The chef looks at her skeptically but signals for the staff to keep going. The staff sets out five small plates of various decadent desserts. Mrella takes a breath and rubs her belly. She manages to work out a few small burps, but there's hardly any relief. She tries to reach the table; however, the heavy weight in her gut protests against the jostling.

One of the staff members grabs a plate and hands it to her. The queen nods gratefully, placing the plate on her well-rounded middle.

"Your Majesty, it's fine. You don't need to finish it right now."

"Thank you for your concern," she pants, "But it is not needed."

She steels herself and takes the first bite. The lemon cake is beautifully moist and fluffy with the perfect ratio of lemony tartness and sweetness. However, as pleasant as it tastes, the moment she swallows, it turns to lead in her gut. Every bite is a painful struggle, but she somehow pushes through.

She massages her middle in a desperate bid at digestion. It's so hot and taught. Her brain screams at her to stop and keep going in equal measure. Eventually, her gluttony wins out. She wipes beads of sweat from her brow and gestures to the next plate. The chef brings it to her with great trepidation.

The next dish is a mixed berry parfait. Usually, she'd be disappointed with the lighter fare, but right now, everything feels heavy. She spoons some into her mouth and lets it sit long enough to register the flavor. Then she downs the rest of it like a shot. The sudden intake is no less painful, but not prolonging the pain makes it more bearable.

The third dish is a flaky pastry with a fruit filling. Mrella takes a bite. To her surprise, she struggles to taste it at all. Judging by the warm fruit smell, it should have a pleasant enough flavor. However, it's as if her tastebuds turned off in protest to the abuse she's putting her poor stomach through. She puts the plate down in defeat.

Relief floods the chef's face. He takes away the plate and sends a messenger to summon her maids. The queen needs to sleep this off, and there is no way she'll get to her bed under her own power. He sneaks a look at her engorged gut. Her previously loose dress struggles to contain her mass.

The maids arrive post-haste with a litter and some burly men. To no one's surprise, Queen Mrella is slipping into a food coma. Nevertheless, the maids expertly haul their engorged queen and guide her onto the litter.

"What's this?" Mrella slurs.

"This is your litter. It's passed down from generation to generation for situations just like this. But, to be honest, no one has used it since before the last queen."

"That makes sense, I guess."

The maids prop her up comfortably with pillows. As soon as the queen is situated, she falls asleep. With that, they take her to the Royal suite.

"It's hard to believe that's the same willowy woman that King Saddiq married." Muses one maid.

"Yes, she fits in well now. If it weren't for her greenness, you'd think she was born and bred here." Reflects another.

Once they reach their destination, they help her to bed. Then, the maids take their leave and vow to check up on her before her next appointment.
King Saddiq makes his way to the Royal suite. He finally got out of a three-hour meeting and is absolutely bushed. He's very thankful for his wife agreeing to take on the delegation event for him on top of her other work. He might have collapsed in exhaustion if she hadn't.

It's not even dinner time, and he urgently needs a nap. As he opens the bedroom door, he's taken aback by a large ball underneath the sheets. He rubs his tired eyes and takes another look. As it turns out, the "ball" is his overstuffed wife.

His feet move of their own accord. Before he knows it, he's kneeling on the bed next to his wife. Saddiq can scarcely believe it - her belly is as big as it was in that dream. He carefully slips the covers and peels her dress back. It seems someone has already oiled her skin. He gently touches it, noting how hard it is. In his dream, he's pretty sure it was empty. No matter; it will look this big empty soon enough.

He presses a chaste kiss on her forehead before pressing another to her navel. There's a sniffling sound. He freezes. The last thing he wants to do is disturb her sleep. Saddiq lowers her shirt and covers her back up before shucking off his pants. He lifts up his gut to pull out his engorged length.

Mrella always finds new ways to take his breath away. Seeing her passed out from her own gluttony is absolutely divine. He takes her all in, from her chubby cheeks and barely-there double chin to her beautifully plump legs. There's no trace of her ever being thin. Even her hands and feet are chubby.

Her body grows a little softer and wider every day. Stretchmarks cover her form as her skin struggles to keep up. A closer inspection also shows a light dusting of cellulite. The urge to lay his head on her soft fat and trace the lines and dimples on her skin takes hold of him, but he resists. Mrella has a lot of calories to digest.

Saddiq lays close to his wife and tries to be as quiet as possible. He runs his hands over his own belly wishing it were Mrella's. He imagines her looking up at him with teasingly running her fingers over her stomach.

"Saddiq, I feel so small, so empty. Stuff me, darling. I need to be huge."

Saddiq kisses her passionately and places one end of a long tube between her lips. On the other, he hooks up a feed tank. He pours a thick, sweet mixture into the feed tank and watches her greedily suck it all down. As she swallows, her stomach surges and sloshes underneath his hands.

He spreads her juicy thighs apart and goes to enter her. But, to both of their surprise, their fat guts are in the way. No matter how he hefts his belly or pushes hers to the side, they are too fat to make it work. Mrella looks at him with abject disappointment - still sucking away.

"Don't worry, love," Saddiq says, patting her belly, "I have an idea."

Saddiq gets up on his knees and puts his manhood on top of her bloated belly. He places his own heavy gut on top, sandwiching it between. He groans, the plump softness a wonderful pressure. Gently, he pumps his hips. Her fat is velvety soft underneath him. Despite his carefulness, their obese stomachs jump and wobble.

Mrella's stomach sloshes noisily. Still, she greedily gulps everything down as if it would be snatched away at any moment. The seemingly endless amount of the mixture makes her belly wobble underneath him. A loud clapping noise rings out as their ample flesh smacks together.
Saddiq's eyes roll back as he cums with a gasp. The sticky mess paints the underside of his belly and drips down to his fupa. He glances over to his wife to see if he woke her up. Thankfully, she's still deep within her food coma. He presses a gentle kiss on her cheek and leaves to clean up.
Mrella wakes up to her maids shaking her.

"Your majesty, it is time for your appointment at the tailor."

Mrella has no idea when she wound up in her bed, but she doesn't question it. Instead, she sits up and admires her belly. It's smaller than it was a few hours ago but noticeably softer than last week. Unfortunately, it is also noticeably heavier.

The downside of lugging around an increasingly fatter belly is the amount of strain on her back. It wouldn't be as bad if she didn't have to run around the castle, but there is nothing for it. Thus, she made an appointment with the tailor for a belly sling.

It's quite the workout waddling to the tailor. Her maids offer her the litter, but she refuses. Somehow, she manages to make it on time. She's panting heavily and a bit sweaty, but she is there.

She strips off her dress, leaving only her undergarments. The air feels luxuriously cool on her skin. The tailor hands her a towel to dry off with.

"Are you full, Queen Mrella?"

"Ha! These days, I'm either fit to burst or am digesting so I can stuff more in."

"And I assume you are in the latter category right now. That's fine. I designed this material to stretch, so it will withstand your stomach to its fullest. I just needed to make sure I didn't make it too small. You eat quite a bit, Your Majesty."

Mrella laughs. "I do, don't I?" She smacks her guts. It sends shock waves across her body. Her wobbling fat is rather mesmerizing.

"And since you also insist on walking, I will make you some thigh bands. It'll keep you from chafing."

"You are a beautiful soul."
Mrella leaves the tailor feeling absolutely fantastic. Thankfully, both items were quick and easy to make, so she got to wear them immediately. There is no friction between her thighs, and her back doesn't hurt. The sling feels more like a bra for her belly. The swaying and jiggling - while sexy - gets really uncomfortable after a while.

She heads back to her room. There's nothing else to do but paperwork, and she needs a nap. As she's about to enter her suite, she hears a loud grunting sound.

Worried her husband is hurt, she bursts in, looking around frantically. She quickly sees him - not in pain, but in her chair fighting a losing battle with his pants. Sweat beads on his brow as he squeezes his fleshy hip into them. Saddiq sucks his gut in to see a little better. However, he's gotten so fat that it does little good. Instead, it wobbles tantalizingly as he struggles.

Mrella just stands there silently, drooling over him. She doesn't dare say anything lest he sees her and stops. So she stays still as she grows slick between her thighs.

Eventually, he manages to pull them over his hips. However, there is no hope of fastening the pants. His round belly surges well over the waist. He gives it a good shake and looks up. There stands Mrella drooling over him like a juicy cut of meat. He blushes in embarrassment.

"Um ... hi?" It's not much, but it's enough to snap his wife out of her entranced state.

"I'm sorry," she blurts out, "You just looked so fetching doing ... whatever you're doing. I couldn't help but watch. But why are you trying to squeeze into those tiny pants?"

Saddiq lets out an embarrassed chuckle. "These are the pants I was planning on wearing for the delegation. They are my favorite formal pants - structured but comfortable. I hadn't worn them in a while, so I figured I should ensure they still fit. I guess I put on a lot more than I realized."

"I can see that," Mrella drawls, "but that doesn't explain why you were trying to squeeze yourself into them."

Saddiq colors even more. "I don't know. It was on a whim, really. And at some point, it became a challenge."

"Well, as lovely as you look right now, you should probably take those off."

"Yeah, you're right. I bet I look a little silly." Saddiq moves to stand up. But as he swings his legs over and goes to stand up, there is a loud tearing noise. Husband and wife freeze and look at each other. Saddiq's entire face blushes while Mrella starts drooling again.

"C-could you turn around? I want to see."

He turns around awkwardly, leaning on the chair and bending over. In truth, he'd rather shuck his pants off and pretend none of this happened. Yet he finds it hard to deny the eager look in Mrella's eye. He feels her hesitantly trace his fat behind through the split before groping him earnestly.

"Just look at you," she says with more confidence, "All this time, I was so focused on fattening myself. I didn't properly appreciate how wonderfully you're filling out. I'll have to rectify this."

Saddiq's a little surprised by how good this feels. His wife is right; they both mainly focused on her weight. And why not? His weight had been pretty stable since before they'd even met. Sure he gained a few pounds here and there, but it wasn't really anything letting his clothes out couldn't fix.

Then he'd lost weight for her, and everything was too big on him. Now that she's committed to exploring his fantasy, Saddiq's been eating a lot more. He knew he'd gained weight but couldn't appreciate how much his other pants were stretchy and roomy.

Mrella's belly suddenly presses against the small of his back. Its weight rests against the backside she was so lovingly fondling a moment ago. She pushes her knee between his legs and reaches around underneath his belly.

"Mrella?" Saddiq finds himself panting, "What are you doing?"

"Shh, you'll like it."

She pushes his waistband down some and slips a hand down his pants. Saddiq keens as she trails a finger across his balls. Mrella fishes him out of his pants and teasingly rolls his balls in her palm.

"Mmm, you feel so good. So big and soft." Mrella grabs his hip with her other hand, giving it a good shake. "You look good bursting out of your clothes like this. I wonder what you'd look like in those tight Timoan clothes right now? Would you burst through the girdle? Could we even wrap it around your fat self?"

Saddiq feels himself stiffen. He's not sure if it's the stimulation or how hot and bothered his wife is right now. He's not sure how he feels about wearing constricting clothes, but if Mrella likes it so much, he can give it a go.

He can feel his weeping head brush up against the underside of his belly. He doesn't think much of it - he's fat enough to happen - until Mrella grabs ahold of his love handles and gives him a good shake. He gasps as his gut grazes against his length. Pre smears against his skin.

"Does it feel that good for you?" Mrella demurs.

"It's not that. I-I can feel it."

"Feel what?" Mrella asked in confusion, "This?"

She shakes his belly again and watches his hips stutter. "Oh, I see. Your gut is getting big enough to get you off. I wonder if I can make you cum with it."

Before Saddiq answers one way or another, she starts jiggling his gut in earnest. The warm softness feels both fantastic and frustrating. He's fat enough to pleasure the tip, but the rest is untouched.

"Stop!" Saddiq pants. Mrella immediately drops his gut and takes a step back.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No, it's not that. I'm just not fat enough to do that properly. It felt like ... like if I gently flicked my tongue across your slit and did nothing else."

Mrella frowns. "Perhaps it would feel better if you sat down and let your belly hang between your knees?"

"What about my pants? I'll rip them more."

"You already ruined them. What's a little bit more?"