The Fattest Princess (preview)

Chapter 1 - ~ one shot preview ~

From a very young age Princess Amalia had nothing but contempt for the responsibilities her elders threatened her with and being the youngest of the six Blackthorne heirs she was able to shirk them easily. Whilst the others fought amongst each other for the promise of the throne, Amalia remained disinterested in petty kingdom squabbles. As far as she was concerned the only real benefits to being a royal were the right to an endless supply of food and the authority she had to order lesser folk around.

Amalia had never been one for restraint and so she would often sneak off to the kitchen, letting the sweet scent of glazed baked goods and meat stew entice her. Shimmying onto the wooden bench she’d scoff down anything put in front of her, roast potatoes, carrots, bread, cheese, ham and much more. While these meals started modest in size, her demanding nature and insatiability sought more and more food until she was given enough to feed the entire Kingdom's staff. These visits became frequent enough that they would have no choice but to prepare a daily feast in advance for the gluttonous princess.

She once had a tall and elegantly slim figure like her sisters, but her greed caught up with her as she quickly became plump and rosy cheeked. Her once slender arms grew flabbier and heavier with every meal, soft rolls forming at their uppermost parts. They rested over the sides of her back fat and her breasts, which had become far too large to keep a round shape and instead succumbed to the pulls of gravity, flopping over her upper body like an apron. Her cellulite-accented thighs flared out over her strained knees, forcing what should have been a delicate gait into a clumsy waddle.

Just above them her large arse forced itself against her already tight garment. It caused her no end of trouble with seating, especially her wooden seat which was only able to support a fraction of her jiggly behind. But the most noticeable growth in the princess had been in her belly. A gargantuan ball of flesh it quivered and swayed with every lumbering step she took and gurgled demandingly, perpetuating the bratty princess’s never-ending feasting. She had well and truly ballooned out to staggering proportions as she entered young adulthood and only continued to grow.

While these visits would temporarily satiate her greed, Amalia was never truly satisfied with what she was given and often required for more food than the kitchen could sustainably provide. On days such as this the spoilt princess would bash her fists against the table like a petulant child, demanding between heavy breaths that she see the empty pantry for herself and threatening to have her father punish the staff for their disobedience. So, the staff were forced to simply collect and purchase even more food for the obese brat.

The fat princess’s notoriety amongst the castle grew with her waistline where she was typically found about shrieking her endless requirements, making her staff work three times as hard. When these demands were not for food she would force them to accommodate her growth in other ways. She would bleat for seating ‘fit for a princess’ as after one feast she’d gotten herself stuck on the wooden bench. Thus, a custom-made chair was built to fit the gluttonous pig with extra cushioning and adequate back support. On her good days she’d request tummy rubs to help digest her food and on bad days she’d scream to be left alone as she munched ferociously.

These trips to the kitchen were becoming harder and harder for the spoilt princess. While she was once able to easily make her way there every few hours, the journey now required regular breaks to catch her breath and seats to ease her aching legs. Forcing her arse into one of the armed chairs she ran her hands over her enormous gut and tried to quell her growing food-anxiety. Watching as the fabric strained painfully over her soft belly she couldn’t help but think on her last appointment with her tailor. Having split her last 3 dresses in the past year the princess had demanded her current dress be re-sized, convinced that her tailor was purposefully stitching them far too small. The princess was furious, and the spluttering excuses had only served to agitate her further. How hard was it to make a dress that didn’t pack her body in so tightly that it suffocated her?

“Why are these people so incompetent?” she huffed out loud, feeling no qualms about the possibility of offending the castle workers. Even now she could spot a problem, adding to the list of frustrations were the arms of the chair digging into her swollen sides. Amalia waited a little while longer until her breathing evened out and with a groan, forced herself back up on her feet, slowly easing her large arse out of the small chair, and waddling away. She was always pulled back into focus by the temptation of the kitchen’s offerings and in lieu of that, her gurgling belly.

It was only a matter of time before even this task became too much, and that day arrived a week after the harvest festival. She woke up at midday and squinted, adjusting her eyes to the brightness. The sun’s rays warmed her pleasantly and for a moment she was able to simply relax. Taking to sleep naked she swayed about against her satin sheets, giggling at the pleasantness of the soft fabric against her soft pillowy body.

Letting her hands sink into her flesh she sighed in contentment, today was going to be a rub day she could feel it. She was in an especially good mood from all the feasting she’d been able to do at the harvest. There was none of the usual “we’ve run out” excuses from her staff and she lay back in bliss at how satisfied she’d been. Only then the challenge of having to get to the kitchen snapped her out of her daydreaming.

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