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Old 10-23-2011, 07:02 PM   #1
Join Date: Aug 2011
Posts: 5
Backroads has said some nice things
Default Princesses of Prospero - By Backroads (~BHM,~XWG,~BBW,Polygamy)

~BHM, ~XWG, ~BBW, Polygamy - Camla, a young woman in a fantastical land, accepts a marriage proposal from a hefty prince and becomes drawn into political intrigue.

Princesses of Prospero
By Backroads

Part 1

I recall first seeing Prospero when I was seven year’s old. I don’t think I loved him then, which I mainly say because I find it unreasonable and unbelievable to think that a little child could truly love a man. Though I suppose he would have been hardly older than a boy at that time, a scrapling of humanity eager to join politics. Aiswath needed a hero of the political sort even at that time and it was not unthinkable to imagine they would all flock to Prospero.

I stood in front of our family’s hut, my hand in my mother’s. Most of the neighbor’s were about, eager to see Prospero Badyr, our prince who had finally come into his own. I remember him walking past, greeting the people with a smile on his already-round face, voice ringing out promises and compliments. He didn’t pay any attention to me other than what anyone would give a little girl, but I liked him just the same.

My family spoke highly of him. My father thought him a little idealistic, but what was wrong with that? Prospero could certainly combine that in the government and the boy certainly couldn’t be any worse than his brothers. My mother thought him an attractive boy, plump and cheerful and jovial, just the sort of man the people of Aiswath loved. My father’s other wife thought him a breath of fresh air, possibly silly, but a few more years would cure him of that. If all went well Prospero’s voice would ring out above his brothers and the citizens of Aiswath would be heard.

He came often after that, for at least a couple of years. He was never any less kind and the excitement in the air was so tangible a little girl like me could feel it if not put any meaning to it. He was always a bit rounder each appearance, and the declaration from the many housewives of Aiswatch that they couldn’t trust a prince who didn’t sample their cooking didn’t help. His appetite was his passion, it was clear.

I didn’t much think about it when he started appearing on horseback rather than walking. Riding was easier than walking great distances, everyone knew that, and if he were a prince it seemed only reasonable he should have a nice big horse to carry him. He was unmistakably fat then, his face as round and shining as a full moon, his belly—pitifully restrained by his robe—forcing him ever so much away from the horses neck, chubby bare feet squeezed into stirrups. To my father’s delight his speeches grew more political (politics much in agreement with the citizens). Yes, this fat prince would mean salvation to Aiswath.

His elder brothers never bothered to go among the people.

I must have been about ten or eleven when I began to develop a bit of girlish crush on him. I was not alone. It seemed every other girl wished to be one of Prospero’s princesses, a pretty and useful consort of a great prince.

But not long after that he appeared less often, and somewhere during that time the lessening appearances changed transportation from horseback to a cart pulled by several strong beasts. And that cart barely held him. He lay back in it, soft face glistening with sweat, thick arms like sacks of flour attempting to wave to his people.

He still gave his speeches, he still spoke to the people, and many still told him their concerns.

But dissatisfaction was creeping in.

My grandmother complained that the once-celebrated Prospero had finally put his belly before Aiswatch.

Shortly after that, he stopped coming.

Fewer girls wished to be one of his princesses, but perhaps I was one of the more foolish ones. I suppose I still carried a torch for our prince.

From time to time we still heard things from the courtyard where laws were made. Prospero said this, Prospero enforced that. But all news was mixed with even more news from his brothers. It was impossible to hate Prospero when men like that were about. They didn’t care about Aiswath and that was clear. At least we could all imagine that Prospero still cared.

I tried not to let it bother me. Truth be told, I didn’t much have opinions in the ways of laws. I did not like the Brothers’ taxes, I did not like the guards patrolling the street. But I was growing to be a fine and clever girl in the words of most who knew me—let the rest be damned. I practiced archery far more than was expected for a young girl of Aiswath—no one minded; rather, I was encouraged by the fiercer female warriors. By the time I was seventeen I was one of the finest shots around, male or female. I also had something of a talent for all things medicinal, whether it be helpful or poison, and I considered seeking out an apprenticeship with a healer woman.

I suppose the rest of that story has detail, but not enough to matter. Suffice it to say my talent for mixing herbs was spoken of to the right ears at the right time and within a short period of days I had been summoned to the court itself.

Prospero wanted to see me.

Though I had long ago discarded any little girl fantasies of marrying Prospero, it would be a lie to say I still did not have admiration for his doings, even if they were in the past, and even a spark of a crush. I had felt the barest things of envy when other woman were summoned to him and accepted his proposal of marriage. In the way of rulers he collected wives as advisors—and I liked to imagine with more intelligence than his brothers. A royal wife was married for skill, wisdom, or talent, always ready to be consulted upon for advice.

There was no greater honor.

I felt foolish approaching the royal houses. My mother and my father’s other wife had done their best to make me look more than presentable, but I still felt less than so. My black hair had been brushed till it shown and was left loose, demure flowers inserted here and there. My face had been scrubbed clean, and I wore pale brown robes—the finest we could afford. They had declared me a great beauty and a fine warrior, though rather than pretty and muscular I just felt plain and skinny. My bow on my back and my medicines in my bag, I made my way up like a frightened little girl.

Trees, branches hanging low and green, veiled the path to the royal houses. I brushed past them, shaking, terrified my escorting guard would decide I was not worthy to present to Prince Prospero and I would be flung back into the dirt.

The royal houses were just as I imagined them, low and spacious and of the finest materials: grey rock that shown silver in the sunlight, roofs wove deftly of strong wood. They were stacked haphazardly, separate apartments blending together to create each building. Purple textile hung at the entrance of one, and the guard pushed it aside and all but pushed me in.

It was all I could do not to faint.

The room was well lit with candles, but it still took my eyes a moment to settle on Prospero. Funny how I should miss someone like that. After seeing him again, I realized it would be impossible not to.

He was still very handsome. Why would he not be? His place was against one wall, his bed merely a pile of pillows barely invisible beneath him. I wanted to laugh. No wonder it had been so long since had walked among the people. His bulk was at least double what it had been the last time I had glimpsed him and I doubted he would be able to leave the room. Thick pillows propped up his head. His skin was perfectly smooth, his eyes still gleaming brightly between the folds of facial flesh. One chin was strong and proud, protecting its fellows that dropped proudly into his chest. His belly was immense. I was a reasonably tall girl, but I estimated two of me lying across that belly would scarcely measure its diameter. He wore only a ceremonial robe of gold wrapped tightly over his massive chest. His legs were impressive in and of themselves, though mo more remarkable than that belly. Fat calves and feet like pillows pushed out stubbornly.

Two girls sat on his belly. I only recognized one of them, an acquaitance from childhood. They were both dressed as I imagined a princess would be dressed, in fine linens and jewels and fine make-up. I wondered if they would perceive me as a threat, but their demeanors seemed friendly. Three more girls hung at the edges of the room.

More princesses.

There were a few girls at his head, not dressed quite as nice. At their feet were baskets of more food than I had ever before seen at once, and they delicately fed fruit and bread into Prospero’s mouth. He chewed politely, a perfect example of manners.

It was then I met Prospero’s eyes.

One princess approached me with a smile. It was then I remember my own manners and bowed.

“Camla,” the woman said, greeting me.

I nodded and bowed again.

This seemed to please her. “Camla, please stand. You are an archer and an herbalist, are you not?”

She looked back to Prospero, who nodded stiffly with his fat neck.

“Our Prince Prospero wishes to offer you a marriage proposal. He has heard of your skills and thinks they would be useful to his court.”

“In what way?”

“Do you doubt yourself?” She laughed. “Here, you will have all the money and comforts you need to develop those skills and any others you would like. Do you accept the proposal?”

What was I to say? Ask questions? Why was Prospero needing my skills?

But all I could do was nod.

Last edited by Lou Grant; 10-26-2011 at 10:34 AM.
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Old 10-26-2011, 12:00 AM   #2
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Join Date: Mar 2010
Location: San Diego, CA
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GluttonyCat has said some nice things

I think this is a pretty interesting story. Can't wait to see where you take it to.
Who says that you should only have 3 meals a day? I prefer 5 or 6:eat2:.
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Old 11-20-2011, 01:06 PM   #3
Join Date: Aug 2011
Posts: 5
Backroads has said some nice things

The wedding was held a week later, on a bright day preceding a full moon. That week of passing time was a blur to me, a constant stream of images and voices and the women in my family telling me all sorts of marital advice I could not comprehend and my father speaking of the duty I would have, the information I would have to give to Prince Prospero.

I don’t think I ever had a chance to think of the wedding in my own opinion. I was pretty sure I was happy about it. It was the opportunity of the lifetime. The chances I would have for learning and study, the influence I could possibly have on the government. I was big on things like that, never having been anything more than serious sort of girl.

But to actually marry Prospero? Had I ever dared to truly believe such a thing would happen?

My family accompanied me to the royal houses that day. My new home. I took the opportunity to survey the area, the slopes in the land that had made it perfect for the apartments that formed the housing. Prospero’s chamber was more or less on top of two more, built sturdily right into the hillside. Flowers covered the hill. I liked to imagine it was Prospero’s taste.

“Your big day,” my mother whispered.

I wore white, a simple white shift of surprising elegance that had been provided for me. My black hair had been tied up in dozens of braids. I felt only a little prettier than I had before.

Then I stepped into Prospero’s chambers.

“Ah, the new bride!”

It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness and light in the room. Candles were everywhere, joining long strands of flowers. Certainly the room had been set up for a wedding. The speaker was just inside the door, a tall man with graying hair. I felt I should know him.

He wore the robes of royalty, and bent low to kiss my hand. “Camla, isn’t it?”

I looked back at my family, who nodded.

I managed a sort of curtsey. “Yes, I am Camla.”

The man laughed. “My brother has selected a true beauty once again! My name is Dalvian.”

I immediately wanted to pull my hand away. I had never before seen any of the royal brothers besides Prospero and I did not like this one. But my cursed grace kept me to the spot.

“And this is Silenos,” Dalvian said, gesturing to another man approaching. “My eldest brother. Silenos, this is the bride.”

Silenos also kissed my hand. I had to admit I did like how I was being treated, but whom I wanted to see was my groom. My searching eyes seemed to clue into the brothers, and they stepped aside.

If it were possible, Prospero seemed even fatter than he had the week before. A robe was stretched over his belly and chest and seemed to cling for dear life. He wore a circle of leaves, his uniform for the wedding. His eyes caught mine, even as he continued to be fed.

He was like the incarnation of a god. Suddenly the room was a prudent a wedding place as possible. Beautiful.

The other princesses lined the room, chattering and laughing. They were beautiful, all of them, and my shyness returned. There were six of them, and I studied them a little more. There was my childhood acquaintance, and the princess who had given me Prospero’s intentions. She was the most beautiful, a plump body and eyes that brightened her face. A couple of the princesses were quite slender, but the other four seemed to have gain weight during their marriage—I supposed it was difficult not to in such surroundings. There was one I did not recognize at all. She was by far the fattest of the bunch, with three chins and legs that seemed eager to sit down.

Dalvian, taking my hand, led me up to Prospero, who managed a weak smile among his feeding. A weak smile, but a happy one, and my shyness switched to giddiness.

“Here is your latest bride,” Dalvian said. “A pretty one, too. Camla, her name is.” He laughed and whispered to me “We indulge our little brother. Neither I nor Silenos have as many brides, but Prospero loves having lovely women about. We like seeing him happy. Food and wives is all he seems to require for happiness.” Then, to Prospero, he said “Time for a wedding gift before we forget! Another half a field will be yours, all harvests brought to you. And don’t worry, the workers will be paid according to your preference.”

The princesses laughed and clapped at this news and Prospero beamed.

“I only hope he can eat all that much more!” said one.

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll manage.”

Dalvian and Silenos seemed quite happy their gift had caused so much delight and I wondered if I should say something.

“Thanks,” I said softly, “on behalf of my husband.”

“He’s not your husband yet!” Silenos said. “We must begin this ceremony.”

That itself I barely remembered. Incense was burned, candles flickered, and a strong guard lifted up Prospero’s right hand that I might take it. The arm threatened to weigh more than me and it was clear Prospero couldn’t lift it on his own. He even seemed to have difficulty moving the fingers to grab mine. They were little more than long globs of fat mushed together. Yet my hand felt surprisingly warm inside of his. I recall that feeling, as well as the sensation of his belly against me as I stood next to him for the ceremony. I recall being so overjoyed that he had paused in his feeding long enough. Then we kissed, me all but falling into the softeness of his chest in order to reach his lips. I liked that kiss, even as I fought for my balance on his fat, the way it warmed me.

I knew then he was still the same sort of man I had imagined him to be.

That knowledge might as well have ended the ceremony, and the feast began. The lovely women responsible for the food immediately returned to feeding Prospero, and he accepted the food as if he were starving. The solemn nature of the ceremony dissipated into laughter and food.

I was now a married woman. A princess.

My husband suddenly now completely enveloped in his eating, the other princesses tore me to their sides.

They seemed delighted to have me around. They complimented my hair, my dress, my every feature. I heard a few names, only gathering Amsa (the girl I knew from childhood) Korbell (who seemed to have made herself the leader) and Dyni (the fattest one). After that I just became lost in their chatter until something was said.

Korbell was the one who spoke. “ Everything has been set up for you. Archery equipment has been made specially. We have a place for you to practice your medicines.”

“Oh,” I said rather nervously. “Thank-you.” It was a polite thanks with plenty of all that was genuine.

“You’ll be needing to practice your skills,” Korbell continued. She no longer smiled.

I did not know how to respond to the sudden realization that my skills were more important to them than I had imagined.

“Don’t bother her with that,” said another girl. “Prospero is hers tonight.”

That made all the girls, Korbell included, laugh.

The girl faced me, face serious. “We all have our special nights with the Prince. Since this is your wedding night, he is all yours. If you are expecting intercourse, we will inform the appropriate people, though you must know that at his size it is very difficult. Know that over half of us our virgins. Such things are not the basis of our relationship with Prospero.”

“Motonya is very serious about such things,” said Dyni.

“I’m just letting her know.”

“Let her know we do encourage affection!”

“Yes, affection, thank-you, Dyni. Camla, just know that Prospero is yours tonight.”

The feast went on for hours, most of the food going right in Prospero’s belly.

“Does he ever stop eating?” I asked Amsa.

She nodded. “Well, he can’t eat constantly, though it seems like it. He does try to spend as much time eating as possible, though.” She spoke as if there were something I should know. “Those who work his fields are paid fairly for their work—Prospero is adamant about that.”

One by one, people left the room. Even the girls who fed Prospero packed up their now-empty baskets and left and the princesses sidled off to their own chambers. Soon it was only me, a young servant boy, and Prospero.

Somehow, with less people in the room, he seemed larger than ever, his handsome face dwarfed by the mountainous body. He smiled at me.

I wasn’t sure what to do. “This has been an exciting day.”

He nodded, a barely visible action.

“Well,” I said, climbing onto his belly—a task made difficult by the softeness that was him. His bare skin felt clean and warm on my hands. “What should we do?”

He looked at me, his face happy. I doubted he could give so fancy a reply. He didn’t seem capable of speech. That made me sad. I supposed I had wanted to hear fine speeches from him.

I stretched myself over him, sinking into his fat. Oh, but he was humungous. “Your brothers seem to treat you as some sort of pet. But I saw you when I was young. You’re more than that.” I kissed him and felt him respond.

I liked lying against him.

I turned to the servant boy, who seemed preparing to leave. Perhaps I should practice my princess skills. “Boy,” I said.

He jumped to attention.

“Bring food,” I said. “Lots and lots of food for the Prince.”

I had seen those servants feeding him. I was now his wife, that should be my job whenever I chose it.

It was as if the request had been expected. Within half an hour a dozen servants were there with baskets of food. Prospero seemed thrilled. I had the baskets placed on Prospero’s belly next to me, and began to feed him. During that time, he did not take his eyes off me. Nervously I allowed that, something slipping a smile to him.

It was hours later when I finished. I was exhausted, and my new husband seemed so as well.

Somehow, it seemed completely natural to just fall asleep on top of him.
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