Knights of the Round Table
Morgan La Fay was famous for her evil deeds and now she had the perfect opportunity to fulfill one of her most secret fantasies. Ever since she was a child she had a fascination with weight gain, especially when handsome warriors got fat during times of injury or peace. She'd had lovers who were already stocky or who gained accidentally and enjoyed that, but she realized she wanted more. She finally admitted to herself what she really wanted was to take an unwilling knight and see how corpulent she could force him to become. After years of research in magic, healing arts, and nutrition, she was ready to procure a subject.
The perfect opportunity amazingly came from her sister, Queen Gwenevere, who apparently had the same tastes. Morgan could not believe her luck when the Queen actually came to her for help fattening up her would-be lover Sir Lancelot. At the time she had not yet seen him, but she had heard the famous stories of his quests and tournaments; if he were half as good looking as the rumors, he would be suitable for her task.
The only problem was his strange madness. When Morgan and Gwenevere first rescued him he was crazed but now he was still, almost like a statue or a doll. The sisters decided he would be easier to manage if not cured just yet but Morgan was increasingly tempted to know the man. He was stunning. She wondered if they could love each other, if he could forget Gwenevere. Now that he was in her possession she could spend hours admiring him and she became increasingly envious of her sister's claim over him.
The lithe curves of his muscular body made a perfectly balanced design she found captivating. While his behavior and thinking were bizarre, physically he was the epitome of good health. Lightly tanned skin, sun-lightened hair and lean well-developed muscles clearly showed the rigorous outdoor life he'd been living when he was rescued. Even if she had not known who he was she felt she could have guessed; he simply looked as if he would be the best knight in the world.
Morgan did have misgivings about plumping up the uniquely fit Lancelot. Most of her weight gain techniques were untested, and she knew she had little control over them. However, Gwenevere did say she wanted him as fat as possible, so she figured she could do no wrong even if the magic was too effective or irreversible.
Taking advantage of his covert weakness for alcohol, she made sure he had nothing to drink except the special ale she was perfecting on him. Based on his response she would adjust the magical ingredients to addict the subject while increasing the appetite and decreasing the metabolism.
Lancelot had always been a light eater who ate only for performance, but under the influence of the ale he was willingly completing the full meals that were brought to him every two hours. On those rare occasions he tried to stop eating before the plate was empty he was fed by hand until every bloating calorie was stuffed into him.
Lancelot never responded at first, obviously too confused and preoccupied with the voices in his head to interact with the real world. As the weeks turned to months, he started to recover spontaneously and become aware of his situation. He could tell he was emerging from an episode with the usual amnesia so he was not so surprised to find himself locked in a dungeon. However, it was unusual to find that it was the Queen's own sister, the witch Morgan La Fay, who cared for him now.
She didn't look like a bad witch with her lovely elfin features, and it seemed she was trying to help him. She confirmed he was recovering from one of his famous fits, and she was to keep him until he was well enough to return to Camelot. She would not tell him about the other half of Gwenevere's orders.
“I believe I'm well enough to leave now. This sickness always leaves as quickly as it comes.”
“You are not well enough now. You have been severely ill for almost a whole year. I will decide when you can leave me.” Morgan was perturbed that he showed no apparent interest in her but only yearned to see his precious Queen. She was used to men looking at her with desire, and his indifference bothered her.
“I don't mean to sound ungrateful but I insist you let me leave this place or I will force my way out!”
“You're even cuter when you're angry, dear Lancelot, but do not try to defy me. Gwenevere will let me know when she wants you but until then I am to keep you here.” She controlled her anger and handed him a scroll, “Read this; it is from Gwenevere.”
He read and his mood immediately brightened. “She does say I should stay here until you decide and then I may return to my former position. She says you convinced her to give me another chance. I owe you even more than I thought.”
Since Lancelot was now content to stay at Morgan's castle and wait for invitation he was given luxurious quarters and treated as a guest. By this time he was wondering why he was being fed so many lavish meals but he tried to eat them to be polite. In fact, he was surprised to find himself getting hungry between meals, as frequent as they were. Still, he looked better than ever so he seemed to be getting away with it. He thought back to how plump he had allowed himself to get last year and still couldn't believe it. He couldn't wait to go back to Camelot and show everyone the repulsive belly was gone.
Meanwhile, meals were getting even richer and larger and Lancelot was developing a taste for gourmet foods. The kitchen was working overtime just to feed him. He was still eating everything given to him as well as snacking on fattening appetizers scattered about the castle for his temptation. Morgan kept him entertained with sedate activities so he forgot all about exercise.
Often his stomach was uncomfortably distended, particularly by the end of the day, but in the morning he would feel it and it would be as flat as ever. But finally one morning he ran his hand over his flat defined stomach, and it was protruding and blurred. He poked his finger into a nice little cushion of fat, and he was disgusted with himself. No one else would notice, but it meant he had to put a stop to this gluttony.
That day he vowed to eat just a few bites of all these meals, just enough to be polite. However, after a drink or two he was hungry enough to eat twice the amounts being brought to him. He forgot all about his softening waistline until he woke up the next morning. The little cushion of fat was still there, but it was a bigger cushion today and was now apparent to anyone who was looking. He tried to eat less the following weeks, but it would not go away.
Morgan was ecstatic with the sudden rewards of her work. She couldn't take her eyes off the roll of fat forming around his svelte figure. It was overwhelmingly sexy to think that this was just the beginning and he had no control over it whatsoever. She guessed he was afraid of regaining weight since he wasn't eating with his usual abandon. It was time to try new magic.
“Are you not hungry tonight? You've barely touched your meal.” In fact the overloaded plate was nearly completed but normally he would have finished it all long ago.
“The food is great here and the ale is the best I've ever had. Unfortunately, I got so fat last year I have to be careful. In fact I'm too fat already.”
“You're getting thicker around the middle, but it suits you.”
Lancelot only blushed and shook his head. He knew Morgan had to be teasing him; women had always loved his rippling torso, up until recently, that is.
“You don't believe me?” Morgan crossed the room and snuggled her slim body beside him, “I think it's an improvement.” She placed her palm where the new fat was accumulating first, around the navel, sinking in the tips of her strong fingers. He felt humiliated that it was so pliable where it was supposed to be firm but he didn't stop her. After the witch removed her hand he could have sworn his belly protruded just a little more. “I wish I could have seen you last year.”
Again he thought she was joking but looking into her eyes, he decided her delicate pale face held a serious enough expression. He remembered how Gwenevere had encouraged him to get fat, and, here, her equally beautiful sister seemed to share her passion. He thought they both were crazy. He would do anything for Gwenevere, but why that? He didn't like how heavy and clumsy he felt when he carried around a potbelly, and he'd do everything in his power to make sure that didn't happen again.
Meanwhile, he had absentmindedly cleared his plate as if he hadn't eaten all day. On some level he was aware of his sword belt digging into his expanding waist and a little belly hanging over his lap. He could still feel where Morgan's fingers had grasped and he wondered if her touch somehow caused this growth spurt. Putting the superstitious thought out of his mind he told himself he was just stuffed from eating so much, that it would mostly flatten overnight.
The next morning, he knew instantly that his belly had not decreased but had expanded alarmingly. Just a few days ago his stomach was flat but now it made a substantial dome under the blankets. He squeezed it, as if it might be an illusion, but it jiggled and gave just like the belly he'd recently been so proud of losing. He'd been too drunk to remember Morgan's lingering grasp of the night before or he would have wondered if she had somehow effected this change. As it was, he guessed that all the recent indulging that he thought he was getting away with caught up with him all at once.
He knew he had to limit his bingeing, but he found he had an illogical drive to keep his stomach perpetually full. Much to his embarrassment he started to crave not only the food, but also the almost erotic pleasure he felt after gorging. He got used to feeling round and fat, but mistakenly thought he was maintaining a certain limit. Morgan wisely hid her floor length mirror, but when Lancelot inadvertently found it he was faced with the full truth.
His limbs and hips had become stout, his breasts were small pillows, but overwhelming the picture was a belly so blubbery it shook with the slightest movement. He turned to the side and couldn't believe how far it curved outward in all directions. When he looked down he had to bend forward to see his feet. How had he not noticed that before? Still, he convinced himself it was mostly bloating from overeating and he was only slightly overweight. With his excellent metabolism he knew he could lose it easily before returning to Camelot.
However, instead of doing anything to improve his condition he was almost always found with his special brew nestled between his plump breasts and the shelf of his belly. Morgan couldn't believe how aroused she was just to watch the spherical middle she helped create; even his breathing was sexy. His right hand steadied his ale and brought it frequently to his lips while the left arm cradled his expanding gut. He'd developed a habit of pinching and rubbing his own tummy but Morgan didn't call it to his attention.
“I thought you said you were going to lose some weight, not gain it. You're looking bigger than ever.” She poked his side and her finger disappeared.
“I've tried. I hardly ate a bite for three days and I only get rounder.” He shifted forward heavily in his seat as his jelly belly settled over his sturdy thighs. “I can't control my weight and I admit it's starting to worry me. Do you think any of your magic or healing skills…”
“I don't have any skills that effect a person's weight. I wish I did,” she lied to him. “Once you get back to Camelot you'll be more active, that will help.”
“I don't even want to go now, looking like this. I have to get in shape first.”
“I just received word Queen Gwenevere will have you back now. You wouldn't want to keep her waiting longer. Don't worry, I've had a new wardrobe made to fit your globular waistline.” She giggled and ran her finger seductively around his circumference. Again her touch seemed to make his figure fill out just a little more. “I had your clothes made with room to grow, so everything should fit for a while, I hope. Let me know if you have any problems squeezing into anything.”
When he first saw his clothes he knew they had to be too big, but better if they were too big than too small. However, trying them on they just fit around his bulging middle, no room left even for a deep breath. He hadn't been eating as much lately and figured the weight loss would kick in any day now so these clothes would soon be perfect.
So he continued to exert the utmost discipline eating less but he drank as much ale as ever and he could feel his stomach straining perilously against his tunic. Instead of asking for larger clothes and embarrassing himself he held his belly at all times and wore what he could. Sometimes Morgan would inquire about a particular item, as if it weren't obvious he was growing out of everything.
“I have to lose a little belly to get into that one,” he admitted.
“That is what you always say. Is that all that fits you? It is, isn't it? Do you realize how fat you're getting?” She pretended to be cross but she was thrilled inside. He'd gained weight beyond her wildest dreams and there was so far no end in sight. He knew they were going to Camelot in a matter of days but never followed through on his vows to eat less and start exercising.
Morgan decided to accompany Lancelot to Camelot. She felt responsible for his return and she doubted he would make the trip without her in his condition. Besides, she could not wait to see the responses to his new look. She promised to provide a constant supply of his favorite ale at Camelot and this way she would ensure his weight stays up. Above all she thought she was falling in love with him and could not think of being separated now.