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(A tale of gluttonous abandon)

By TheFattener


The Game

Sir Samuel was a tall, handsome knight in King Arthur's court who was well on the far side of being portly. Though he did his best to be noble and do knightly things like jousting, in his mind, nothing could compare to sitting down and stuffing himself like a hog. Because the other lords and ladies did not much approve of such behaviour, he did his best to behave. Samuel ate lightly and exercised frequently, but it seldom did him any good. No matter how hard he worked, how much or how little he ate, he never could lose any weight. Samuel found this annoying because he felt he might just as well be fat AND stuff himself like a pig as diet and look like one anyway. The lords and ladies didn't see it the same way though, so for the sake of his noble reputation, Samuel dieted and jousted and behaved properly. Until Christmastime came around.

Christmastime was always Samuel's favourite time of year, because it meant a grand holiday feast. Christmastime also meant that Samuel could eat whatever he wanted, because it was the holiday season and everybody ate too much during the holidays. Samuel was dearly looking forward to eating way too much on Christmas. He had abstained from eating lunch and dinner yesterday, and instead drank large quantities of wine to stretch his stomach. Late in the night, Samuel had passed out, a bottle of wine in one hand, his large stomach sloshing from side to side, filled to the brim with alcohol. Christmas morning he awoke feeling bloated, hung over, and starving. His large, flabby belly rumbled loudly and he patted it softly. Patience, Samuel told his grumbling sack of flesh, and dressed quickly. He buttoned on one of his big velvet shirts and laced up the front of his largest pair of leather trousers. Giving his gut a final pat, Samuel waddled out of his room and towards the main hall.

The great hall had been lavishly decorated with Christmas boughs and gold and crimson ribbons. On the walls shone glorious tapestries depicting the many noble adventures that Arthur's knights had ridden out on. On golden benches lords and ladies clad in sparkling silks and velvets sat and talked with one another. Samuel took little note of all this, because when he entered the room, his eyes went immediately to the food. Hot, crackling roast pigs had been set up and down the entire length of the table, along with bread stuffing, puddings, meat pies, a creature that was half lamb, half peacock, crisp beef, mushrooms, rice, sausage, cheeses, soups, fruit pies, fresh corn, vegetables, and of course cream, milk and butter. Samuel's stomach snarled and he clapped a hand over the top of the noisy beast in embarrassment. Noble lords and ladies did not allow their bowels to make such a racket. As quietly as he could, Samuel waddled to his seat. Most lords would have felt a sense of shame sitting where Samuel sat, seeing as he was as far away from the king as one could possibly get. However, Samuel did not much mind. The table for low ranking knights and servants was closest to the doorway, making it convenient to get to and from his seat.

As Samuel sat down he felt an almost uncontrollable urge to dive face first into the roast pig sitting in front of him. But he couldn't, of course. Not only was it unknightly, but against the rules. For king Arthur had decreed that on Christmas day, before the feast could begin, a miracle or a quest must be brought before the court. Most of the nobles seemed to like that sort of thing, but Samuel found it downright annoying. In his opinion, there was nothing more obnoxious than some wizard showing a stupid magic trick or some distressed maiden trying to solicit knightly help for a dangerous quest when his stomach was empty. Perhaps, Samuel thought, he would be a world renowned knight by now if he hadn't been starving while the quests were being offered. The prospect of tramping off into the bitter cold with an empty stomach was far too unpleasant for Samuel to ever consider volunteering. Then, of course, there was the fact that Samuel thought marching off in the woods to help a random person on a quest was absurd. What was the point of possibly dying on the quest of someone you hardly knew? It was much better to stay inside, and leave the honor and glory winning to the stupider, “nobler” knights.

After fifteen minutes, Samuel was nearly dying. His belly was crying out to be crammed taught with the food that groaned on the tables before him, but no one had visited the court yet. After twenty minutes, Samuel was scowling. He was moments away from giving the king a piece of his mind about the stupid quest tradition when a man came clattering in to the hall.

The most unusual thing about the man, on first glance, was his unusual blue color. His eyebrows, hair, clothes and even his skin were bright blue. The second most unusual thing about the man was his size. He was monstrously huge and muscular, with bare feet and a monstrously huge blue and gold axe in his right hand. The mighty charger he rode upon was also massive, and it reared and stamped and shot fire from its nostrils before the company of nobles.

Arthur, being a noble and knightly host, stood and greeted the unusual newcomer: “Welcome, good sir. You have arrived at a timely hour, for just now our Christmas feast begins. Would you tarry here till its conclusion?”

Samuel rolled his eyes. He was starving, and there Arthur was, being ridiculously courteous. Damned thin people. He scowled and sucked in the saliva that nearly fell from his lips. To comfort himself, he began to rub the underside of his now thundering belly. It sloshed a bit and Samuel grinned. “That must be the wine,” he whispered softly to himself.

“Nay,” said the blue man. “I come with a Christmas game, and a brief one at that. It is a simple game, and I must leave upon its conclusion.”

Samuel perked up at the blue man's comment. The man had used the word brief, and Samuel desperately hoped it was true.

“As you wish,” Arthur said. “What game do you speak of?”

“A simple game, m'lord. Involving this axe. All I ask is that the noblest among you lift this axe, and strike me the hardest blow possible. In twelve months, this man must return to me, and I will deal him a blow in return.”

All present laughed long and hard at the proposition, but when the blue man remained serious they stopped. No one moved. Except Samuel, who was certain that everyone was going to think it wasn't noble to take up such a foolish bargain. Arthur would probably try and persuade the man to stop his suicidal foolishness, but Samuel didn't care. He didn't care, and decided to make short work of this quest.

“M'lord,” Samuel called, standing abruptly. He regretted standing abruptly, because the left over wine in his stomach swayed and tumbled through his insides, nauseating him momentarily.

“Yes, Sir Samuel?” Arthur called back.

“I humbly beg the honor of carrying out this quest.”

The hall tittered at Samuel's words. They all thought of him as a big, fat coward.

“Silence!” Arthur shouted at the laughing nobles. “The honor of this quest, Sir Samuel, I bestow upon you.”

“Thank you, m'lord,” Samuel said, and waddled up to the blue man. “Now good sir,” Samuel said, doing his best to be properly courteous. “How might I find you when the twelve months have passed?” Samuel tried very hard not to laugh. He supposed he might as well ask the directions to the cemetery where he'd be riding to put some flowers on the blue man's grave come Christmas next year.

“Never fear,” the blue man said, “for a grand litter will arrive in twelvemonths, with many servants to bear you back to my castle. And now, good sir, take this axe and strike.” The blue man handed Samuel the axe, knelt on one knee and lifted the hair away from his neck. An uneasy feeling washed over Samuel, but his angry innards kept him from thinking about it. In one swift blow, Samuel removed the head from the blue man's body. The nobles gathered together gasped when no blood came out. Samuel stood stunned. But nothing could prepare him for what came next. The blue man reached around momentarily, located his severed head, and placed it upon his shoulders.

“My axe, if you please sir,” the blue man said. Samuel handed him the axe, dumbfounded.

“Remember, twelve months, and your head is mine,” the blue man laughed evilly, and before anyone could catch him, mounted his horse and galloped from the hall. The nobles sat stunned. And then they began to whisper.

“Big deal,” one knight said in an unknightly fashion to the lord and lady seated beside him. “With that fat sack of lard out of the house, the food bills will be cut in half.” The lord and lady laughed quietly.

Arthur rose. “Sir Samuel, I regret now that I gave you that quest. If only I had known - “

Samuel raised one hand nobly. “It is my trouble now, good king. I will bear it fully. Every knight must keep his word.” And with that Samuel turned on his heel and waddled and sloshed back to his seat. His hunger was too great for him to worry about the new difficulties with the blue man. He would worry about it later when he was overly sated with wine and meat.

“I would we had not had our miracle this year,” Arthur said. “But it has come to pass, and now the feast may commence. Be kind to Sir Samuel, for when you look upon him, you look upon a dead man.”


An Extreme Bout of Gluttony

The meal lost a bit of its cheer at Arthur's words, but in time, it picked up again. Samuel was not a talkative fellow, and his future loss did not weigh heavily on many minds. Except for one lady, the beautiful apprentice enchantress to Merlin, Wendra, who gazed down the table at Samuel. How she longed to be beside Samuel, stuffing his face for him!

As for Samuel, he cared nothing for what the others thought of him. Upon Arthur's last words, he leaned forward and grabbed four steaks. Within minutes they were gone and Samuel felt the beginning of an arousing heaviness in his flabby belly. When the wine pitcher was passed down the table he tilted his head back and drank it all. No one seemed to mind much. Previously, those sitting around him would have viewed Samuel with disgust, but now when he looked up from the empty jug, he saw only pity. Samuel smiled sadly. Perhaps this development would work to his advantage.

Samuel piggishly grabbed an entire chicken and devoured it. He slurped up an entire bowl of mashed potatoes, chewed two meat pies and stopped for a breath. His blubbery dome was now gurgling loudly, trying to digest all the good, hot food that Samuel was cramming into it. Samuel rubbed it gently and realised that his trousers were beginning to fit properly. Only an hour ago, they had been loose but now…now they fit just right.

“More meat, m'lord?” a woman beside Samuel asked. She was offering him what looked like an entire ham hock. Samuel smiled politely.

“Thank you,” Samuel said. “We must all eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow I may die.” He laughed gently in what he hoped was a sad way. The whole dying in a year thing might not be so bad, Samuel decided. For once in his life he would be able to eat all he wanted whenever he wanted. Who would stop a soon to be dead man from carrying out his last desires? No one. With that, Samuel grabbed the ham hock and tore into it with great gusto. As the meat slid down his throat he could feel his abdomen becoming thicker and denser. It expanded outward on his lap, causing his lace up trousers to fit quite snugly. Then the loose front of his shirt began to fill out, growing tighter and tighter. Samuel bulged out in all directions without caring. For the first time in his life, he was free.

An hour later, Samuel set down the ham hock and sighed. “Ah, what a delightful snack,” he said, petting his bulging gut the way most people would pet a beloved cat. It felt soft and squished back and forth gently in his lap. Looking down, he found he couldn't see his pants any longer, but he could feel them somewhere below, snugly encasing the lower half of his belly and bowels. They weren't yet uncomfortable, as Samuel was still able to lean forward without his pants creaking too much. Samuel took it as a sign to continue eating, but there was nothing within reach. The roast pig was gone now, and so were any and all dishes surrounding it. Boldly, Samuel signalled a servant over to the table.

“Yes, m'lord?” a servant boy asked.

“Bring me two racks of lamb, seven meat pies, a chicken and some potatoes,” Samuel commanded. The boy nodded and turned to go. “And boy! Bring me something big enough to wash it all down with.” The boy hesitated, but Samuel made a sad 'I'm going to die soon' face, and the boy turned away hastily to get the requested items. Contentedly, Samuel leaned back in his chair and began to squeeze and massage his vast stomach to prepare it for its next course. Inside he could feel the food sliding back and forth like a lead weight and he felt aroused. The bottom of his ponderous, swollen gut rubbed gently against the tip of his penis and Samuel was in heaven. He squirmed happily in his chair until a tap on his shoulder indicated that the food had been brought.

“Thank you,” Samuel said as the boy set down a barrel of wine and a pitcher beside Samuel, and placed the requested items on the table. Samuel dove into a rack of lamb like a starving wild man. He sucked the meat off the bones, thrust potatoes into his mouth whole and didn't bother when the juices dribbled down his chin or the crumbs from meat pies landed on the top of his now table-like paunch. And all the while his shirt stretched tighter and tighter until his buttons gaped and his snow white flabby flesh poked through.

None of this show was lost on Wendra, who felt herself becoming more and more turned on by the sight of Samuel's voracious appetite. She was so engrossed with watching his gluttonous binge that she forgot to eat herself. Samuel of course, took no notice. Halfway through the chicken he felt cramped, as though he couldn't fit any more food inside himself no matter how he crammed. With the chicken in hand, Samuel leaned back from the table and adjusted himself. It was the accursed lace up pants! Samuel could feel his massy, food-laden gut begging to be freed from the confines of the constricting leather pants. His thighs cried out for release, and he could see the seams of his pants fighting to contain his bulk. On the table, the food he'd ordered was still piled high, and Samuel realised he hadn't even reached the dessert. Something was going to have to be done. Carefully, he leaned down and loosened his pants' laces. No one would notice, and if they did, well, so what? Samuel could do what he wanted with the last year of his life.

Samuel sighed with relief as he reached under his lumpish mass of blubber and loosened his pants. His colossal lower gut surged forward, taking up space, filling the new area with its meaty weight. Extra flab pressed around the sides of the pant laces, barely confined by the little criss-crossing leather string. Miraculously, the shirt was still holding on, but now Samuel's belly bulged out from beneath it, causing the shirt to ride up. A generous roll of lard oozed over the sides and back of his pants, but nothing could compare to the voluminous proportions of his massive stomach. It hung over his pants and rested between his wide spread legs. Samuel played with it as he continued eating. Occasionally he moaned or pressed into it, and his belly would shake and his bowels would bubble like a brook.

Some hours later, Samuel had gone through all the cakes and pastries and pies within reach. His gut hung far out over his pants and rested firmly against the table. It had even begun to press out to the sides of the table in its never-ending quest for more room. Samuel's sturdy velvet shirt however, was still hanging on, which disappointed Samuel. It had always been a fantasy of his to bust out of a shirt from over-eating. Though rather stuffed, Samuel felt he might achieve his fantasy tonight, if only there were more food. Unfortunately, there wasn't. Most of the nobles, finally tired of the day's revels and disgusted with Samuel's swinish gobbling and guzzling, had left the table, and when that had happened, most of the servants had gone too, taking any left over food with them. Looking around the area in which his substantial bulk was seated, Samuel noticed the wine barrel. It wasn't food, but perhaps - he took the pitcher and filled it. As he chugged he could feel the food in his tight, rotund pouch mixing with the wine and expanding … expanding … he was spreading out, growing, billowing … he felt a tap on the shoulder.

“M'lord, you may be a dying man, but if you continue, you will burst out of your clothes right here, and no noble will stand for that.” Samuel turned away from his wine to see who spoke and was surprised to see the extraordinarily beautiful woman that was rumored to be Merlin's apprentice.

“I -“ Samuel began and belched, causing his lowest shirt button to pop off at last. The shirt was so tight a person could practically make out the lines of his newly formed stretch marks. “I'm sorry, I -“ Samuel belched again.

“Come with me,” said the beautiful woman, who was, of course, Wendra. Embarrassed and pleased by her attention, Samuel attempted to get to his feet.

“I can't, er - I can't - “ Stupid! Samuel silently cursed himself. It was just his luck that a beautiful, golden haired, green-eyed goddess would take an interest in him while he was like this.

“Boy!” Wendra called. A servant boy came immediately.

“Yes, m'lady?”

“Take this wine barrel and this pitcher to Sir Samuel's chambers please.” Samuel's eyes widened. Perhaps he would get to carry out his fantasy, not here, but in his room.

“Yes, m'lady.” The boy whisked the barrel and the pitcher away and was gone, leaving Samuel to figure out how to disentangle his distended rolls of flesh and overblown bowels from the table and bench they had become so fond of in the last five hours. He pushed in on himself and tried to press his dropsical belly away from the table, causing him to belch again. The few remaining nobles at the other end of the table didn't even look Samuel's way. They were too disgusted. Uncomfortably, Samuel rocked back and forth, belching all the while. His monstrous gut began to feel looser until at last, Samuel was able to pull the diaphanous balloon away from the table and slowly stand. The contents of his stomach instantly slid to the bottom, and for the first time Samuel regretted eating mostly meat dishes. He burped softly, placed a hand on his gigantic belly and plodded towards his room, the food and liquid inside him splashing back and forth as he went. His pants, which had given up on containing him long ago, were beginning to fall, so he held those with the other hand and did the best he could to manoeuvre his bulging gut back to his room. Wendra followed alongside him.

“M'lord, how have those buttons held up so long? What a marvelous shirt that is.”

“Brrrap! Thanks,” Samuel said, no longer ashamed of belching, because it didn't seem to bother Wendra. “I keep hoping they'll pop off actually.”

“That would be interesting,” Wendra said, “but perhaps more appropriate for your own chambers.”

Samuel nodded and massaged the engorged fleshy globe that jutted out before him. “I wish I felt full already, but somehow I don't. All this belching is making me hungry again.”

“Well,” said Wendra, “let's get you situated, and I'll see what I can do.”


An After Dinner Snack

Once in Samuel's room, he went immediately to his favorite chair and crashed into it like a ton of lead. His sizeable paunch appreciated the rest. Wendra brought the wine barrel beside him, and pulled up a small wooden table in front of him.

“I'll be right back,” Wendra said and smiled. Samuel smiled too and hiccuped. Another button flew off his tight shirt and his gut shifted outwards. Wendra gave him a strange look.

“Save the other buttons for me, alright?” she asked. Samuel shrugged and leaned back. Why wouldn't the full feeling come tonight? He shouldn't have stretched his stomach so much the night before he decided. And then, why not? He enjoyed being a glutton, he enjoyed devouring everything within his reach, and most of all, he enjoyed the way his body oozed and lurched around him. Right then and there, Samuel decided he was going to spend his last year getting very fat. He would become an overfed, puffy mound of lard, ruled by his appetites, stuffed to the hilt every waking moment. What better way to die than in the lap of luxury? He would die a decadent, immobile hog, incapable of anything but shovelling more and more food into his ever widening gullet. He would have that wonderful bloated, overgorged feeling that made him short of breath… Samuel's dreams were forgotten momentarily with the return of Wendra.

“Some pies, m'lord,” she said and smiled. She set out cherry pies and blueberry, chocolate cakes and strawberry pies and lemon mirangue and vanilla pudding. “I asked Merlin how to conjure these,” she grinned. Samuel grinned back.

“Pies,” he groaned, and rubbed his trembling lard. Then he began thrusting them into his face as fast as he could. His stomach protested, but stretched outwards, increasing as the air going into a hot air balloon might. His massively meaty thighs plumped, split their leather casings like sausage skins and flowed together. His abdomen hung freely over his legs now, like a boulder hanging in a sling from a precipice, and his buttons strained even further, widening the gaps into long, fat ovals. At last, the pies were gone, and Samuel leaned back, sated.

“Ah, that was delicious,” he gasped. “I'm so full,” he closed his eyes and gently massaged his overstuffed, glutted gut. His breath came with difficulty now, and it felt wonderful. Slowly, he moved his hard, well-rounded dome from side to side, stimulating his penis and grunting with pleasure.

“You haven't finished your wine yet, my bloated little piggy,” Wendra said. Samuel looked up in surprise. “And your shirt,” she traced down the front of his chest with one finger. “It's still on.”

Samuel sighed contentedly. His arousal was making him bold: “You'll have to give it to me yourself, because I can't move,” he grinned up at her. And Wendra grinned back. She lifted the wine pitcher and held it to his face. Slowly, as Samuel drank, the wine began to mingle with the food. The pastries Samuel had eaten, full of bread and crusts, began to expand inside his gut. Soon Samuel was flowing outwards, his burgeoning, pursy paunch reaching upwards and outwards…



Samuel's ample girth sprang free and Samuel came right then. “Mmmm...” Samuel grunted and fell back in his chair.

“Let's get you on the bed,” Wendra said. She helped the bloated and over-satisfied Samuel slosh drunkenly over to his bed, where he fell like a lead balloon.

“I can't move now,” Samuel said, and groaned. Slowly, he petted his flabby sphere in large, rhythmic circles. It felt wonderful, being stuffed, unable to move, and - he groaned with pleasure because Wendra was between his legs now, sucking mightily. With his belly gurgling and jiggling back and forth across the bed, Samuel moaned. There was nothing else he could do. He was so swollen and engorged with food that his breadbasket pinned him to the bed. He was at Wendra's mercy, and liking it.

Somewhere in that night of ecstasy, Samuel fell asleep. His massive gut stood firmly above him at first, and then, as his body slowly digested his gluttonous repast, it began to rise and fall, wobbling like waves.


The Morning After

Samuel slept long and hard, waking only at noon the next day. When he awoke he felt sluggish and extremely bloated. His massive stomach had deflated to some extent and now grumbled quietly as Samuel lay in bed. He wondered if last night had all been a dream, and realised there was only one way to prove it. Tentatively, he reached a hand out to his gut and discovered the trip to the top of his abdomen did not take as long as it had previously. Happily, Samuel squeezed the brand new, soft fat that covered his belly. Slowly, he reached his hands around his body, discovering a newly bulbous ass, and thighs that felt something like cream cheese. Looking across the room, Samuel saw an empty wine barrel. He sat up, belching softly, and realised, it had not been a dream. Gently, he rubbed the top of his velvety soft globosity and moved to stand. It was hard work after the serious eating Samuel had done the night before, but if he couldn't stand up, he couldn't get to the door to order food, and if he couldn't order food ... Samuel shuddered to think about that.

Slowly, he stumped towards the closet, his new weight swinging from side to side, and pulled it open. The front of the closet was filled with what Samuel called his 'optimistic' size clothes. He laughed when he saw how tiny the pants were, and how impossible it had ever been for a glutton like himself to think that he could ever hope to squeeze into them. Quickly, Samuel raked through the clothes to the back of his closet where he kept what he used to call his 'unoptimistic' clothes. He'd had them made in the event that he somehow became fatter. He chose the next size up from the pants he had worn the night before and did his best to climb into them. His legs barely squeezed into the pants, and he had to do some stuffing and sucking in to lace the pants over his floppy gut. Samuel was thankful for his stomach's night time deflation when it came time to choose a shirt, because that meant he could wear something that fit. He picked a shirt like the one he had worn the night before, and felt sad when his stomach failed to fill it out. The shirt made his once proud paunch look like a deflated balloon. “I'll soon change that,” Samuel said and licked his lips wickedly while rubbing his stomach. He enjoyed the way it felt beneath his chubby fingers.

Perhaps today he would see Wendra. Maybe she would come to visit him?? Samuel wondered as he moved sluggishly towards the door to his room. Suddenly, the door flew open, and in marched Wendra with a tray heaped with food.

“I've been to see Merlin again,” Wendra said. “And he's suggested you no longer dine with the other nobles, as they do not appreciate your company the way I do. I think it's a good idea. Why waste the time travelling to and from the hall? Instead, he has given me this tray, which will produce whatever foodstuffs and drinks we desire.” Wendra smiled. “I looked into Merlin's cookbook collection, there were dishes from the past and from now, and even from the future. I learned a lot of their names because I thought you might like some variety.”

“How did you know I would - “

“That you would need a huge food supply? I guessed from the way you behaved last night at dinner, that you'd decided to spend your last year in constant gluttony and gorging. I found your frenzied feasting appealing, and so here I am, and here's the tray.” Wendra smiled.

It was almost too good to be true, but then again, Samuel realised, it was Christmas. Christmastime was a time for miracles in king Arthur's court. He decided not to question his luck and jiggled excitedly over to the table and sat. Wendra came behind him briskly and set the tray before him.

“What's all this?” he asked.

“Gravy, fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Try the chicken, it's great,” Wendra said, and picked up a piece herself. “I love the stuff,” she said, and began to eat.

Samuel went through three buckets of fried chicken by himself before feeling uncomfortably full. Could his stomach have somehow shrunk during the night? He leaned back in his chair and unlaced his pants, allowing his belly growing room. The laces didn't undo all the way however, which pushed Samuel to try some new food which Wendra called 'pizza.” After twenty-two pizzas, Samuel's gut had destroyed his pant laces and hung suspended between the two useless flaps of leather that had once held the laces. His shirt rode up again and Samuel looked to Wendra.

“Some wine to aid with the digestion, m'lady?” he asked and stroked his now overblown bowels. Because Samuel ate such great quantities over such extended periods of time, he found his intestines were often swelled with digested bits of the early part of his gargantuan meals. Wendra put down her fourth piece of fried chicken and smiled.

“Try some beer,” she said. And instantly a huge, cold mug of frothy beer appeared on the tray alongside another bucket of chicken. “I really like the chicken,” she said apologetically, and dug in to the bucket. Samuel smiled and grabbed his beer. He knocked it back in one gulp and requested more from the tray. He enjoyed the way the beer seemed to expand and bloat his stomach. After three mugs he decided he needed a larger cup and ordered several pitchers of beer. Then more, and more. Ten pitchers of beer went into Samuel's vast and insatiable maw. He topped it off with a final bucket of chicken, and with a mighty belch his shirt buttons went flying.

With the alcohol rocking to and fro, and his stomach swaying wildly now that it was no longer restrained by a shirt, Samuel dragged himself across the room and flopped onto his bed, belly first. The massive amount of liquid in his stomach caused him to roll from side to side, and he hiccupped and belched and rolled, loving every minute of it. He felt warm, soft and sleepy. At last he turned onto his back so he could watch his gut wobble back and forth with the liquid. He looked over to see if Wendra was paying any attention and noticed that she had fallen asleep. Beside her were four empty buckets of fried chicken, and she rested her hands on a sizeable beachball belly. Getting fat for a year was going to be more fun than Samuel had originally thought. Satiated, Samuel lay back on the bed and drifted off into sleep, noting that the pants which tightly encased his legs were arousing in their constriction. He grunted softly like a pig and massaged his flowing belly. It would be several hours until his next mealtime.


As He Slept

The moment Wendra heard Samuel's snores, she sat up and struggled to her feet. Her large meal made her feel rather heavy, but she had work to do. Powerful magic would be needed to aid in the realisation of Samuel's fantasy of being an immensely fat glutton, and the spells she needed to work would take several hours to complete. Clearing away the remains of their earlier feast, Wendra set herself to casting spells.

Hours later, exhausted, Wendra fell asleep once more at the table, just as Samuel's belly began to roar. The sound and the hunger pangs woke the flabby knight immediately, but feeling lazy and sleepy, he lay in the bed, enjoying the slovenly fat which dripped from his frame. He would have liked to remain there, but the stomach called, and he was a slave to its desires. Rolling to his feet, Samuel made his way to the table where Wendra sat. Feeling thirsty, Samuel ordered nine pitchers of beer from the tray and began to drink. By the time he had finished the first nine, Samuel decided that the rest of his meal would consist of nothing but beer. He slapped his paunch and listened happily as the liquid glided around his innards, causing his mammoth belly, bowels and numerous fluffy rolls to jiggle. With any luck, Samuel thought, he would have an impressive beer gut by the end of the next few hours. Samuel ordered another eighteen pitchers of beer and started in. Slowly as his abdomen began to spread, he leaned further and further back. By the end of the eighteen pitchers Samuel felt exceedingly drunk and swollen. His impressive girth had swelled beyond his wildest dreams due to the immense amount of beer he had consumed. Drunk and satisfied, Samuel cast a lustful eye on Wendra, who slept on and on. For a moment he considered waking her, then thought better of it. She had been kind to him; the least he could do was let her sleep.

Samuel belched and began to hiccup. He was beginning to regret not having eaten anything, because now he was ridiculously drunk. Maybe a pizza or two would help sober me up, Samuel thought, and ordered two pizzas. The sight of the fresh hot food on the tray was arousing somehow, and when Samuel saw it he tore into it without restraint. The noisy sounds of his belches, hiccups and smacking lips soon woke Wendra, who immediately laid eyes on the welcome sight of Samuel pressing more and more food into his hungry, drooling mouth while his fat body reeled from side to side. The scent of alcohol hung in the air, and Wendra saw the large pile of empty beer pitchers. She smiled at Samuel, and he gave her a little nod before starting to cram the second pizza into his mouth.

“I have news for you, my dear,” Wendra said. Samuel nodded again and ordered another pizza. All the eating and drinking had made him hungry again. “While you slept I cast some spells. For the span of a year neither of us need worry about bathroom needs, proper fitting clothes, food or any health problems. You're free, Samuel, to become as big a hog as you want.”

Samuel nodded again, his new triple chin wagging delightedly. He swallowed half a pizza and stopped to catch his breath.

“Have some pizza, Wendra,” Samuel offered. He held out his half pizza for Wendra to try.

“I really should watch my weight,” Wendra answered.

“Come on, just try a little,” Samuel coaxed and hiccuped. The liquor in his bulbous rotundity slopped loudly and he reeled back in his chair.

“Well, alright,” Wendra said. Seven pizzas and twelve pitchers of beer later she and Samuel were both reeling and staggering towards the bed.

“Your stomach's cute,” Samuel told Wendra, “but it cannot compare with mine.” He grinned at her and gave his swollen, distended gut a pat.

A half smile passed Wendra's lips. “Maybe, but I'll bet you can't eat more than me.”

Samuel laughed. “I'll bet I can,” he challenged, rubbing his jutting belly up against Wendra.

“We'll find out tomorrow, my dear,” Wendra said, caressing his stomach. Samuel moaned and fell back on the bed sloshing. They had wonderful sex which exhausted Samuel so much that he fell asleep. As soon as he fell asleep, Wendra got up again. Still a bit drunk, she staggered over to the table and the tray.

“I'll just get an early start on Samuel,” she told herself, and ordered seven jugs of wine and seven pitchers of beer. Her plan was to stretch her belly to such immense proportions that she would easily out eat Samuel the next day. Wendra drank late into the night and didn't stop. Pitcher upon pitcher she poured into her waiting mouth, more and more she swelled, until at last she was so filled with liquor and so drunk that she could not move. Her dress stretched tightly across her midsection and her globoid gut expanded out to her knees, Wendra fell asleep, pinned to her chair, glutted with wine.


The Contest

A belch and an odd sensation woke Wendra the next morning. She struggled to sit up and found it difficult. Looking down, she remembered her new rotundity. Some of the weight had transferred during the night though, and her thighs and her ass had increased in size. Wendra felt soft all over, and she liked it. Her dress wasn't nearly as tight as the evening before, but it fit snugly. The buttons down its front had remained intact.

Wendra looked over to the bed to see if Samuel had wakened, and was pleased to see he hadn't. Carefully, she made her way over to the bed and crawled in beside him. Samuel was going to be very surprised when he woke and saw her. She snuggled her flabby paunch up against Samuel's fat back and tried to go back to sleep. Her hunger pangs, however, prevented her. Instead her stomach began to growl and roar and rumble. It got so loud that it woke Samuel, who rolled his gigantic, bloated frame over to see what was going on.

“It's waiting for the contest,” Wendra told Samuel, petting the snarling, wine saturated beast that hung nearly to her thighs.

“Then a contest it shall have!” Samuel cried, and did his best to spring from the bed. Swiftly he pulled on the largest pants in his closet, which looked like twin sleeping bags sewed together, and a shirt that would easily have done as a two-man tent. Lacing and buttoning himself up, Samuel lumbered over to the table and took a seat in his favorite chair. With a wave of her hand, Wendra conjured up an equally large chair and sat across from him.

“Your choice of dish,” she said.

“Hmmm,” Samuel squinted at his competition, trying to size her up. “That chicken you like so well ought to do the trick,” he said at last.

Twelve buckets of chicken later, Wendra showed no signs of slowing down, and neither did Samuel. They moved on to steaks. Samuel consumed five, and Wendra kept right along side. Then there were pizzas, chocolate cakes, and finally, they stopped for a break.

“Oooh,” Wendra groaned, massaging her fleshy, voluptuous form. Her stomach threatened to explode out of her constricting dress at any second now. Samuel found himself in the same boat. He had decided not to unlace his pants, but now his powerful stomach was ready to break the laces, it was so overfull and constricted by his garb.

“Had enough?” Samuel asked coolly.

“Nowhere near it,” Wendra gasped. “Let's try burgers. You'll like them.”

Twenty burgers later, they ordered more burgers. And more burgers. More and more and more, until Samuel's pants shed, his shirt shredded and all that was left was his naked, bloated frame. His belly squashed uncomfortably against the table, but so heavy was Samuel from gorging that he could not move. He sat squashed, overfed, his edacious appetite snuffed at last. Leaning back in his chair as far as possible, breathing hard from the pressure his overblown sack exerted on his lungs, Samuel watched Wendra finish her meal. This was one contest he didn't mind losing, he realised as he massaged his filled, puffed amplitude. The swollen feeling of his stomach and the sight of Wendra were sheer ecstasy.

Wendra was eating fried potatoes now, by the bucket load. Her stomach and hips and ass spread in all directions, filling her chair. Her thighs and legs spilled out towards the ground, and her dress was slowly beginning to rip. As Wendra finished a steak, the dress split near her taught gut. Immediately Wendra ordered wine, tilted her head back and tipped the whole bottle down her gullet. She spread out and out, her bloated gut stretching and splitting the material of her dress, her thighs tearing outwards, and at last, Wendra's body sprang free. Gigantic and replete, Wendra leaned back in her chair and belched contentedly.

“I'm happy to lose to you,” Samuel smiled. The two of them sat quietly, caressing themselves and enjoying the feeling that came from overgorging.

The days passed quickly for Samuel and Wendra, who continued to eat large quantities of food. They took to eating in bed, laying down and stuffing themselves until they were unable to move. Drowsiness would set in, and lazily they would drift off to sleep. In the afternoons after a bit of digestion, Samuel and Wendra had sex, then lolled in the bed, shovelling food into their ever-inflating forms. Their simple, decadent lifestyle went on so happily that Samuel lost all track of time. Soon enough it was Christmas Eve, and there came a knock on the door. Wendra dragged herself across the floor on her gut, her leg muscles had gone to waste long ago, but her arms were in constant exercise from all the eating, and it was these she used to pull herself to the door. She opened the door a crack. Merlin stood just outside.

“My child,” Merlin said, eyeing Wendra's bountiful new shape oozing across the floor. “The time has come for Samuel to prepare. See that he is dressed and ready tomorrow to meet the litter which the blue man sends for him.”

“Yes, sir,” Wendra said, and attempted a curtsy, which caused her fat to wobble all over. She closed the door and turned back to Samuel. “Samuel?” she asked sadly.

“Yes, my love,” Samuel called from the bed, his rolls of fat quivering with each word.

“It's Christmas Eve,” Wendra said.

Samuel sighed. “I am sad to see it come. Not entirely sad though, because Wendra, had it never come to pass that I would lose my life on this day, I would never have been free to be the true glutton I am.” Samuel slid his hands over his nearly bursting rolls as he spoke.

“I've grown to love you during our time together, Samuel,” Wendra whispered.

“And I have grown to love you also,” Samuel replied and shook a handful of blubber in her direction. Wendra managed a laugh. “Let's not ruin tonight by being unhappy. Instead, let us prepare me for tomorrow, when I will appear before the court, as the very fattest man the land has ever seen!”

Wendra still looked sad.

“Please, my love, for me. This is my last night; let's make it special. Be sad for me tomorrow.”

“Well, alright,” Wendra said, already salivating over the prospect of an evening of entirely unbridled gluttony, where they would consume so much food that they would hardly be able to even breathe. “What shall we start with?”

Samuel licked his lips. “Beer. And fries, heavy on the salt. Even if I don't gain a lot of weight tonight, I plan to look it.” Wendra nodded. Fifty-two pitchers of beer apiece and Samuel and Wendra could hardly speak. Wobbling to and fro on their liquor filled bellies, they barely managed to slur out the words to the tray that would get them French fries. In the end they managed it, and the two consumed forty-seven boxes apiece of something called McDonald's fries. They left the wrappers wherever they fell, and Samuel didn't even bother to pick up the fries he dropped on the top of his gut. It was too much trouble to reach them. Belching loudly, the two leaned back to consider further dinner options. Samuel smiled as they rested, because he felt his belly bloating up and out, filling with air. Pressing on it gently, he emitted several more belches, and decided to go for the heaviest combination of food he could imagine.

“I want pizzas, fried steak and pasta drenched in cream sauces,” Samuel decided. “And drinks made from the iced cream you taught me about.”

Pizza boxes arrived, and plates of steak and pasta, a river of milk shakes, all went into Samuel's gut to quell his insatiable appetite. “More!” he cried. “More!” Tonight would be a night he remembered, a night where he stuffed himself like the prized pig he was, so full that he couldn't move or speak, or hardly breathe.

Halfway through the night, Samuel found himself so crammed with food that he was unable to feed himself. “More,” he whispered from behind his ballooning, distended gut, his inflated thighs and his bloated ass. “More!” And Wendra fed him. Apple pies, cherry pies, chocolate cakes, cookies, pizzas, burgers, seven ropes of sausage, five barrels full of wine, all of it went into Samuel's wide gullet and down into his thick, engorged maw. At last, as dawn broke, Samuel closed his mouth and relaxed. Lying in the remains of his repast, the glutton fell asleep, his fat oozing off both sides of the bed to reach the floor. The bed itself broke sometime during Samuel's nap, but he slept on, caressing his taught flesh and moaning with pleasure.

At ten, Wendra woke Samuel and dressed him in loose lace up pants and a shirt big enough to contain his expansive, shifting girth. She dressed herself in a sparkling button up gown, also loose fitting.

“They're too loose,” Samuel said. “If I'm to make an appearance, I want it to be good.” He turned his fat head towards the tray. “Beer and fries! More than I can eat!” he commanded. And the tray overflowed with beer and boxes of fries. Samuel and Wendra didn't speak for the next hour, so intent were they on cramming their already over sated bellies with hot fries and beer. At the end of the hour, Samuel stopped. His belly bulged forward, threatening as usual, to destroy his pants. His shirt stretched so tight that buttons gapped clear across his chest, but Samuel didn't care. He was bloated, stuffed, and felt too good to care about dying. He turned to Wendra and noted that she looked fabulous in her dress. When she moved, her body jiggled in all directions and the stressed buttons across her rotund, flabby midsection threatened to break at every movement.

“It is time,” Samuel said. Wendra bit her lip, looking sad.

“How will you walk to the hall?” Wendra asked.

Samuel sighed. “I can't,” he said at last. “I'll have to roll.”

“No, no, that will never do,” Wendra said. “I'll cast a spell that makes it possible for the both of us to walk, albeit very slowly, since you're extremely fat.”

Samuel nodded. “I want to walk if I can,” he said, and belched. The beer and salt in the fries were bloating his stomach out nicely even as he spoke - his shirt grew more and more taught by the moment. “Let's go before I bust out of my shirt,” he said. Wendra waved her hands, muttered the words of a walking spell, and with that, she and Samuel waddled out of the room.


The Showdown

The nobles gasped at the creature they saw lurching and jiggling and belching its way into the grand hall. Could that mound of lard be Samuel?

“M'lord,” Samuel said when he had arrived. “I would bow, sir, but, as you can see,” he slapped his ponderous gut, sending ripples through his body and causing his shirt buttons and pant laces to creak.

“Never mind,” Arthur said. “Would you like a seat?” He snapped his fingers for the servants to bring Samuel a chair. After a few moments of confusion, they brought him benches, stacked three deep, so that the majority of his massive ass would fit comfortably.

“Thank you,” Samuel said, and lowered himself slowly onto the benches which screamed over his weight. His blubbery legs hung off the sides, and his belly, still swollen and increasing in size due to his early morning snack, was beginning to ooze out of his pants. As he sat there before the nobles, waiting awkwardly for the blue man's litter to arrive, Samuel's shirt began to ride up, the buttons began to tighten, and Samuel began to feel full. All part of the bloating, he told himself.

The realisation of why Samuel was sitting on the benches began to sink in, and suddenly Samuel felt scared. “Wendra!” he called, and she was there, lumbering up to stand beside him. There wasn't much to say, except that Samuel requested a chair like his own benches for his mammoth beloved. Sitting together, their fat bellies rubbing up against each other, they waited for the blue man.

The blue man and his procession were not long in coming. The doors to Arthur's great hall flew open and in marched a company of extremely portly people. The lead rider was so fat that his stomach engulfed the pommel of his horse's saddle, and the rest of the servants were much the same - except for the blue man who rode at the front of the procession.

“I come,” said the blue man, “to uphold my end of the bargain. I will strike a blow like the one Sir Samuel gave me twelve months ago. If any dispute me, let them speak now.”

The court was silent.

“I ask that Sir Samuel rise and come before me,” the blue man said and looked around the room.

“Goodbye, Samuel, my love,” Wendra said, tears in her eyes. She caressed his bloated, piggy face as she said this.

“Goodbye, my darling,” Samuel answered, and gave his love a hug. Then he got slowly to his feet and trudged towards the blue knight. “One blow in the neck coming up,” he said, trying to sound cheerful. His words sounded hollow though.

“Kneel,” said the blue knight.

“Can't I just lie down?” Samuel asked. Kneeling was difficult in his condition.

“You must kneel,” The blue knight responded.

Grumbling, Samuel got down on his knees, belching several times because of the way he had to crunch his gigantic engorged stomach in order to get in the position. Somewhere along the line his pants ripped open and his gut sprang free, which would have been embarrassing except that it relieved so much pressure that all Samuel felt was comfort.

“A blow to the neck,” the blue man said and hesitated. Samuel lowered his fat flabby face so the knight could get a clear shot. “A blow to the neck and yet…”

A glimmer of hope was forming in Samuel's mind. Perhaps the man would not kill him?

“A blow to the neck would I give this man,” the blue man cried, “but he is so fat he has no neck!”

The hall stifled a “noble” titter. Samuel was shocked by the blue man's words, but then he realised that what the blue man said was true. Since he and Wendra had been eating without restraint, not even leaving the bed after awhile, he had grown disgustingly fat. Samuel's massive body took up the bed and spilled onto the floor. His arms were so huge they looked like stacks of bloated marshmallows. His face looked like it had been inflated with a pump and it jiggled wildly whenever he spoke or ate. Flowing down his cheeks were multiple sets of meaty chins, squashed up around his ears by the immense rolls of fat Samuel had built around his neck. Even Samuel's back was nothing but rolls of fat. In short, Samuel was a nearly immobile mound of lard. Burping triumphantly, Samuel struggled to his feet.

“You are truly an amazing man,” the blue man said, “the first I have been unable to strike. Therefore, you are the man I am looking for. Now I will reveal to you my true form.” The blue man snapped his fingers, and suddenly the most immensely fat man that anyone had ever seen was lying before them in a bed of blue and gold. “I am the belly god, king of the gluttons. My life must be spent eating, and searching for a man to take my place. It was preordained that when I found a man who could meet my match in gluttony, my powers would be transferred from me to the new man. This woman beside you shall become the belly goddess, queen among gluttons. I am glad to pass the title on to two such gloriously greedy swines as yourselves. Now, into the litter with both of you.” The fat blue man snapped his fingers and Wendra and Samuel found themselves crushed together in a soft, comfortable litter. Delicious sweets and desserts had been placed on their bellies, just within reach of their elephantine arms. “My litter will bear away this noble knight Samuel, and this noble enchantress Wendra. They shall be taken to my palace where they will live until the day Samuel finds a man who can match him in gluttony. As for myself and my wife, it is time for us to pass into the kingdom of the gluttons, for we have done our part here on earth. Farewell, and thank you good Arthur, for the help of your knight.” With that the blue man vanished, and the procession slowly lumbered from the great hall.

Wendra and Samuel lived happily ever after.