The Royal Feeder

Chapter 1

Aldin smirked as he watched the king huff and wheeze his way through the banquet. His majesty had not been able to feed himself since long before he was coronated and so it was the duty of specialized servants, the feeders, to keep the monarch well fed.
A demanding grunt shook the feeder from his thoughts and Aldin got back in his rhythm of stuffing the immobile king full of the deceptively light and extremely fattening foods.
Once the banquet was completed, the nobles were carried out on their platforms far too fat to waddle themselves, the king is simply rolled on his platform, through an illusory wall into the royal bedchamber.
The corpulent elven monarch has already settled into a wheezing snore as his flabby mouth hung open. Aldin dutifully takes his place on the king’s tons of back flab and carefully pours a large healing potion down the fat throat, so that the king would not succumb to his gluttony during the night. The royal feeder yawns and climbs off the king into his shelflike bed where he can be at the beck and call of his ruler.
As he drifts to sleep, he jealously regards the huge expanse of flab that is his king. By elven standards, Aldin is rather thin. His belly does not even reach his knees, and he is able to walk unaided. This marks him as the lowest class of elf, a feeder.
Feeders are practically slaves and a necessity in any self respecting elf household, they are never allowed to reach any respectable weight, only given the barest rations. Aldin cups his moobs in his hands and shifts his belly which only manages to hang over his cock. He falls asleep fondling himself and staring at the king.
*many years in the past*
Solanath groans taking a break from stuffing his face, his huge belly is stretched to the limit. He sighs and rings a bell to summon his servants who come and massage him to ease the pain of his fullness.
The crown prince burps and moans as the servants rub his colossal belly. He’s grown in the weeks after his father’s death, he can barely move his arms anymore and turning his head was out of the question with the rings of flab around his neck. He still wasn’t big enough to be a respectable king, his hands and feet could still be seen and therefore he had more eating to do if he was going to make a proper impression at his coronation.
Solanath grunts and rings the bell again indicating that he wants to be fed. A veritable army of servants converge on the crown prince, they begin to feed him while the others massage his belly. The moans and praise him, telling him how majestic and beautiful he is. One team of servants begin to massage lower an tease Solanath’s fat pad causing the prince to moan while he’s fed and massaged, in absolute bliss.
*back in the present*
Solanath moans in his sleep, loud enough to wake Aldin. The feeder sits up and sleepily blinks at the king. Seeing his arousal he begins to get hard, he slowly starts touching himself for the second time that night.
Aldin closes his eyes and imagines how it must feel to be so gloriously big as he masterbates. He imagines having such a noble position that he could be fed by his own servants and not longer have the shame of mobility.