The King of Excess

Chapter 1 - King of Excess

In the Kingdom of Gluttony, there was no ruler more famous—or infamous—than King Balderic the Indulgent. His reign was known for its abundance, excess, and a singular obsession: *food*. King Balderic had ruled for many years, his once-commanding presence now a mere shadow of its former glory, replaced by the sheer enormity of his body. The kingdom had prospered from the riches of the land, but it had also been driven into a state of perpetual opulence, where feasts were daily affairs and the king’s indulgence knew no bounds.

The great throne room of Balderic’s palace was filled with golden tapestries, but none of it seemed to matter now. The king was no longer the tall, strong figure who had once commanded his armies with such authority. Instead, he was a mass of flesh, his belly so large it hung over his knees, his cheeks so swollen that his eyes were half obscured. He had grown so large that his royal robes were no longer capable of containing him, and the seams had burst wide open, leaving his exposed flesh to spill out in every direction.

His servants, loyal and eager to please, had become a permanent fixture in his life, each one dedicated to tending to his every need—especially his insatiable appetite. From the moment he woke up to the moment he finally succumbed to sleep, food and indulgence were his only thoughts. He had grown so accustomed to being fed by others that he refused to move or lift a finger on his own.

"Bring me more roasted pheasant!" the king bellowed from his gilded throne, the deep voice booming, though it was strained by the weight of his body. His enormous hands rested on his vast belly, fingers tracing circles over the soft, flabby mound, as if he were in constant need of reassurance that it was still there—still growing. The sight of it thrilled him. His belly, the true symbol of his reign, was a source of immense pride. His servants, dutiful as always, scurried to fulfill his command.

The head servant, Roderick, approached carefully, holding a steaming platter of meat. “Your Majesty, I have brought you your feast,” he said with a slight bow, his voice soft and respectful, though the heaviness in his tone was unmistakable. He had long since stopped noticing the overwhelming smell of rich food wafting through the halls of the palace—it had become part of the air he breathed. He placed the platter carefully on the table before the king, who looked down at the pile of food with a gleam in his eyes.

“Feed me, servant,” King Balderic ordered, his voice dripping with entitlement. He leaned back further into his throne, which groaned under the strain of his massive weight. His servants had had to reinforce the seat years ago, but even now, it seemed to creak with each movement. Balderic, however, was completely oblivious to the discomfort his size caused to the furniture, the palace, or anyone else around him.

Roderick nodded quickly and cut a piece of the roasted meat, holding it up to the king’s lips. Balderic didn’t even bother to lift his head; his mouth opened as though it were on autopilot, accepting the food. He chewed slowly, savoring each bite, his eyes half-closed in bliss. His stomach groaned in protest, but he was unfazed. It was always like this: a constant battle between his stomach’s limits and his unyielding desire for more.

“More,” he muttered, his voice growing impatient as he flicked his fingers toward Roderick. “You know I cannot wait.”

Roderick quickly obeyed, cutting more meat and shoving it into the king’s mouth. It was not only the meat that the king craved, but an endless array of sweets, pastries, and fruits, all piled high on the tables around him. His kingdom’s resources had been devoted almost entirely to providing for his gluttony, and no one dared question it. The courtiers, the nobles, and even the other royals had learned long ago to keep their distance and feed his desires.

As the feast continued, Balderic's belly swelled even more, and soon the fine silk of his royal tunic began to tear. The fabric could no longer contain the sheer size of his body, and his belly hung out freely, a massive, soft mound that covered his lap, his thighs, and even reached down to the floor. He let out a loud belch, which echoed through the hall.

“I need my belly rubbed,” he demanded, his voice laced with satisfaction. The request was not new; it was a daily routine. His servants had grown used to it. A group of them gathered around him, each taking turns massaging his bloated stomach with oil. The king moaned in pleasure, savoring the touch, and rubbed his hands across the expanse of his soft, round belly.

One of the servants, a young man named Aldric, gingerly pressed his palms into the king’s belly. The king's flesh felt like a warm, yielding cushion under his hands, and he could feel the soft jiggling of fat with every movement. Balderic let out a satisfied sigh as the pressure on his stomach sent waves of pleasure through him. He looked down at Aldric with lazy eyes.

“You may stop rubbing now, servant. I need more food,” the king instructed, his tone almost bored now that his belly had been sufficiently pampered.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Aldric said, stepping back with a bow as he prepared to fetch more of the king’s endless feast.

Hours passed, and Balderic did not stir from his throne. His body had become so vast that walking was an impossibility—his servants had long since built him a set of plush cushions on which he could lounge without moving. They had even constructed a special platform to transport him when he needed to be moved from one room to another.

His demand for more food was unyielding. “What’s the point of a kingdom if there is no *more*?” he would often ask, slurring his words through mouthfuls of food. “Feed me, rub me, bring me everything.”

One of the younger servants, Emilia, took it upon herself to bring him a fresh pie she had just baked—she had spent hours perfecting the crust. She held it out to him on a silver tray, her hands trembling slightly under the weight of the pie. When Balderic saw it, his eyes widened.

“You made this?” he boomed, his voice thick with desire.

Emilia nodded timidly, stepping closer.

"Good," the king said, his tone demanding. "Feed me that, *now*."

Emilia, her hands shaking, took a piece of the pie and brought it to the king’s lips. Balderic opened his mouth, devouring the entire slice in seconds. His belly wobbled with each swallow, but the king showed no signs of slowing down.

“More!” he bellowed once again. The servants did not flinch, used to the king’s insatiable greed. Every moment was spent in service to him—feeding him, massaging him, and making sure that no part of him was left uncomfortable.

As the days turned into weeks, the king’s size continued to grow, his belly becoming more and more distended. The once grand palace halls seemed too small to accommodate his enormous frame, but it didn't matter. The king’s world had shrunk down to one thing: satisfying his endless cravings.

His clothing was now shredded, barely clinging to his mountainous body, and the royal insignia on his robes were barely visible beneath the layers of fat. Yet he remained oblivious, his eyes closed in sheer satisfaction as his servants fed him, bathed him, and massaged him. His belly, once just a part of him, had become the very symbol of his power.

The kingdom prospered in wealth and luxury, but the people, while fed by the king’s generosity, could only watch in awe as their ruler continued to grow larger and larger. Balderic had transformed into something more than a king; he was a living embodiment of indulgence and excess, and no one dared to challenge him.

In his mind, he had conquered all. All that remained was the endless feast, and his loyal servants, who lived only to ensure that his gluttonous desires were always fulfilled.