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Prelude
“She’s lucky she’s married to the commander, otherwise they would’ve sunk her.”
The royal maids bleakly escort their former leader through the naval base, buzzing with the news of the admiral’s mast. The findings were damning. Had Belfast not been a shipgirl, the incident would have warranted court-martial and the possibility of scrapping. As it stands, the light cruiser can no longer sortie, act as secretary, or serve as head maid. The maids enter the main lodging facility and make their way to the commander’s bedroom, where Belfast will be confined.
“Well, orders are orders.” Gloucester makes her way to the wardrobe and starts grabbing Belfast’s spare maid uniforms. She looks between the uniforms and their owner. “I’m sorry, Belfast, I know how much you loved serving master.”
Bellona approaches Belfast from behind and puts an arm over her shoulders. “I may have only been a maid for some of the time, but you were definitely the best. Hey, maybe I can teach you swordsmanship once your house arrest is over.” The Royal Knight smiles weakly at Belfast, who returns a solemn smile of her own.
Belfast proceeds to her closet, changes into casual clothes, and hands the used maid uniform over to Gloucester. She takes a look at all of the maids present, locking eyes with each of them one by one: Bellona, Black Prince, Cleopatra, and Gloucester. “Thank you all for your wonderful service. I know you all will continue to serve master wonderfully. Now it is time for me to enjoy an early retirement.”
For the next week, Belfast’s house arrest goes by uneventfully. As of now, Dido chaperones her around the building and within the walled garden behind the facility. Life is slow. The cruiser takes her time enjoying the garden, sipping tea, and reading books.
Day 1
As she sits at a side table, deep in a book, in her and her commander’s room, a slow rumbling echoes down the hall and gently rattles the decorations in her bedroom. Belfast looks to Dido who looks back equally confused. The rumbling grows louder and becomes punctuated by an occasional squeaky wheel. Before the source of the rumbling reaches her room, two Royal Maids, Sirius and Charybdis, throw open the doors as King George V wheels in a huge, low cart with a single covered platter on it. The battleship eases up on the cart and allows its momentum to fall as it approaches the bed. Sirius rushes back down the hallway. Belfast puts the book down and approaches.
“King George V. How may I help you on this fine day.”
The Knight Commander responds. “Good day, Belfast. You’re in for quite a culinary marvel.” She approaches Dido, hands her an envelope, and turns to look at Belfast. “But first a change of wardrobe.” Before the cruiser can respond, King George V and Charybdis pull her into her closet while Dido begins to read the letter.
“Let’s see here, we need something comfortable and stretchy. Ah, here we go!” Charybdis forces Belfast to change into her red bikini and a pair of yoga pants. The bikini clings to her voluptuous body, and every step causes her large breasts to bounce against the tiny but unsupportive bra. The black yoga pants hug her lower silhouette, and the red bikini bottom can be faintly seen through the fabric.
“Your Majesty, Charybdis, what’s the meaning of all of this?” Belfast inquires as she is lead to her bed and forced to sit on it by the cruiser and much stronger battleship.
Dido pipes up and paraphrases the letter. “Master has seen fit to put a condition on ending your house arrest. In order to do so, you must finish the county fair…?”
King George V moves towards the giant platter. “Yes, the county fair. It was quite the challenge to cook something of these proportions, and Eagle Union cuisine isn’t exactly my forte, but I’m quite confident in the results, especially a little trick to keep the meal warm and fresh indefinitely.”
The Knight Commander hoists the lid off the platter, and the overwhelming smell of greasy meat bathes the entire bedroom. On the platter sits thousands of pounds of meat, coated in a golden crispiness, and wrapped in endless strips of bacon. “The county fair! Think of it like a bigger version of a turducken: A sheep, stuffed inside of a pig, stuffed inside of a cow. Each animal has been deboned, deep-fried, and wrapped in bacon.” The chef seems giddy as she describes the monstrosity sitting beside the bed. “Well, enjoy your meal!”
As King George V leaves, Sirius returns to the room with another cart, but this one is loaded with two large drums, some cups, some plates, some bowls, cutlery, and other equipment.
“Good evening, Belfast. I, Sirius, have been assigned to assist you in any way I can until you finish your meal.”
Belfast sits on the bed, wide-eyed, and looks between the three maids: Surrounded. Charybdis then approaches her to get the cruiser sit up on the bed with her back propped against a wall of pillows. Sirius starts cutting pieces of meat out of the behemoth while Dido starts filling cups and bowls with the contents from the drums.
Charybdis, always the coddling type, reassures Belfast. “It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about anything other than eating as much as you can. Just leave it all to the Royal Maids.” Sirius approaches from Belfast’s left and sets a tray full of plates with cuts from the county fair. All of the meat has already been cut to bite-sized chunks. Dido then approaches from the right carrying another tray, this one with a large bowl full of a thick, golden liquid and cups of a murky brownish liquid. Charybdis then presents Belfast with a pill and a small glass of water. “You must take this. It will help with hunger and digestion.”
Completely trapped on her bed, Belfast resigns herself to her greasy fate. She pops the pill into her mouth and chugs the water. A few seconds pass before the cruiser feels a gurgle slither through her abdomen followed by an intense hunger pang. She suddenly sees the feast before her as incredibly appetizing and picks up a fork.
Remembering the letter, Dido speaks up. “Alright Belfast, make sure to drench each bite in the dipping sauce and drink plenty of fluids.”
Belfast just nods as she brings a forkful of meat to the sauce, dunks it in, and delivers it to her mouth. The beef itself is incredibly tender, the frying and bacon explode with grease from every crunch, while the dipping sauce turns out to be melted butter. She chews steady at first, actually finding heavy meal incredibly delicious. As she brings more and more bites to her mouth, the rate at which she chews and swallows increases. As she finishes half the plates on the tray, Sirius begins getting another tray ready in order to replace the first one once it is empty. Meanwhile, Charybdis and Dido merely observe.
“You look thirsty, Belfast. Have a refreshment.” Dido picks up a cup and presents it to her charge. The cruiser quickly swallows a bite, snatches the cup from Dido, and starts to chug. The brownish liquid savory, salty, and oh-so fatty: Bacon grease. The leftovers from all the bacon strips covering the county fair. Belfast savors the flavor for only a second and then quickly gulps down the cup.
The rest of the evening goes by as Belfast falls into a grease-filled paradise. Her stomach swells into a taught red ball that pushes a little on her yoga pants. A moan of painful fullness starts accompanying every bite, so Charybdis sits next to Belfast and starts rubbing her belly. “There, there. You’re doing great.”
Belfast finishes off another tray of county fair and reaches for another plate to find that Sirius has stopped preparing the food. In fact, the usually clumsy maid is no longer by her bed and is instead inside of the bathroom, drawing water into the tub.
“Alright, Belfast. Time for a bath and bed.” She takes a moment to realize the passage of time and just how full she has stuffed herself. The cruiser even finds a few specks of grease and butter dotting her thighs, belly, and bosom. She moves her legs at first in order to stand up from the bed, but Charybdis places a firm hand on her shoulder, preventing the bloated cruiser from standing. “Not so fast, Belfast. You are not allowed to waste a calorie on anything other than eating. The Royal Maids will carry you to the bath and wash you ourselves. Master’s orders.”
Charybdis takes charge of cleaning the cruiser while Sirius and Dido start gathering the plates and silverware for the chow hall. The doting maid quickly undresses Belfast, effortless picks her up in a princess carry, and delivers her into the hot, bubbly waters of the bath. The bath water sooths the ache from her belly, and Belfast starts to find the endless pampering relaxing.
Once dried off, Charybdis redresses Belfast and carries her back to bed. “You ate so much on your first day, Belfast. Just leave everything else to the Royal Maids. Before long, you will become incapable of doing anything for yourself.” Despite the ache coming from her abdomen, the former head maid falls asleep faster than ever before.
Day 7
“HUUOOOOOORRPP!!!”
“What a lovely burp, Belfast. You surely cleared up enough space for your morning snack.”
Belfast sits on the bed, winded, giant belly aching full of fatty meat, butter, and bacon grease. Twice a day her personal maids halt her from devouring the county fair in order to fatten her up with a snack. The members of the Royal Maids alternate who helps Howe, the cookie expert, prepare and then deliver the snack. Sheffield arrives beside Dido and presents to Belfast a platter stacked high with four dozen crisp balls of deep-fried cookie dough. The sight of the snack once sickened the former head maid, but she is left with no choice, and tepidly plucks a ball off the platter and brings it to her mouth.
“Oh, Belfast. Don’t forget the dipping sauce.” Dido chirps with an innocent smile.
The ball stops an inch from her mouth. Even if it is a snack, each bite Belfast takes must be dipped in melted butter. She then dunks the fried sweet into the bowl sitting on the table beside her and pops the ball, dripping with butter, into her mouth. Crunchy exterior gives way to chewy interior along with a smidge of chocolate. As she chews the first ball, her right hand gets the next ball of cookie dough ready. As soon as she swallows the last of the previous ball, the next one has already passed her lips.
Sheffield stands steely and blank-faced to the side of the former head maid and holds the snack platter within reach of the bedbound cruiser. In just a week’s time, Belfast has made a sizeable dent in the county fair. In addition to deep-fried beef, Sirius now alternates to cuts of deep-fried pork. Belfast’s body has also changed drastically in that time. Already huge breasts have grown into giant udders that rest on top of her belly. Her thighs have become thick and pillowy. Her voluptuous, round ass has ballooned outward and grown wide along with her hips. Her waist, once stick thin, has given way to an enormous belly that constantly gurgles and churns as it works overtime to store all of the fat and grease she swallows onto her morbidly obese body. Her arms and back remain lean while her face and neck remain small. Even her clavicles can still be easily seen under her neck. She has completely outgrown the tiny red bikini and shredded through the yoga pants. Charybdis does her best to give her charge belly massages in order to alleviate discomfort.
As Belfast begins sucking down the last dozen balls of cookie dough, Sheffield gives a comment. “I always knew your greediness with master would come back to bite you. But looking at the state you’re in now, I actually do pity you.” Belfast takes the words in, but gives no acknowledgement. With the last ball of cookie dough down her throat, the growing cruiser chases after them with a cup of bacon grease and then resumes devouring the county fair while Sheffield takes her leave for now. Unlike most of the other maids, Sheffield’s specialty of cleaning is put to use against Belfast’s bedding every day during bath time.
Day 15
Edinburgh anxiously walks down the hallway carrying a platter full of deep-fried cookie dough. It is her turn to bring Belfast her second snack of the day, and she has not seen her sister since before her punishment. Once at the bedroom door, she takes a moment to ready herself before entering. The maid can faintly hear scarfing noises, the scraping of silverware against dishes, and a constant rumbling sound. Despite her best efforts, she briefly freezes at the sight before her once she enters. The smell of grease is so thick she almost chokes on it. The behemoth of a meal is nearing halfway completion, and Sirius, now assisted by Cleopatra, can now deliver cuts of lamb to the gluttonous cruiser. Scylla has now joined Charybdis in massaging the huge, blubbery gut that sprawls across the bed. Finally, Dido stands ready to replenish the bowl of butter and the cups of bacon grease.
In the center of everything lies Belfast, who has grown to become just as much as a behemoth as the county fair. The mountain of blubber sits completely naked on the bed. Her breasts have swelled with fat and almost obstruct her view forward. Her thighs, hips, and ass have grown thicker and wider, inching closer to the edges of the king-sized bed, and prop Belfast up just enough to see past her tits. The cruiser’s legs spread wide in order to make space for the stomach that slowly inches pass her feet. Her enormous gut, the source of the constant rumbling, surges forward and has developed into a double belly, but it is not immediately apparent due to the constant onslaught of greasy meat stretching the skin and shallowing the crease. Her once tiny bellybutton has sunk into a deep pit.
Edinburgh dutifully takes her steps forward and sees Belfast’s arms move to tip plates of crispy, bacon-wrapped meat slightly towards her mouth with one hand, and the other hand uses a fork to shovel in as much as she can after every swallow.
“Good morning, sister. I’ve brought you your second snack for the day.”
Belfast finishes off a plate and swallows before speaking. “Burp! It’s too early… huff… for the second snack, dear sister. Huff… Uuuurp!” The greedy cruiser remains constantly winded from her feeding frenzy. Despite the change in appearance, Belfast’s voice remains as sweet and seductive as ever.
Dido chimes in. “Now, now, Belfast. You’re not allowed to waste calories on speaking. Remember?”
Belfast just grunts and groans with fullness for a few seconds and then starts using her own lithe arms to rub the sides of her own belly.
“Uuurp! Excuse me. Huff… Just pour the butter on them… Huff… and shove them all… Hic! In my mouth. Huff…” The former maid continues to rub her overworked belly as she opens her mouth to receive the sweet and fatty snack.
“You may have broken a rule, but what a splendid idea, Belfast!” Dido gets Edinburgh to place the platter on a side table, and she proceeds to smother the cookie dough with melted butter. The diligent maid then uses a fork to deliver each ball of dough, one after another, to Belfast’s awaiting mouth.
Edinburgh answers the question in Belfast’s mind. “From today on, you will receive twice as many snack times since it seems you enjoy them.” The big sister stands watching the feeding of her little sister while fidgeting with her fingers. She then sits on the edge of the bed.
“So, Belfast, after your house arrest, I was appointed the new head maid. It was, well still is, quite nerve wracking, but miss Newcastle and miss Gloucester have been wonderful in helping me learn how to take charge. I don’t know how you did it, I feel like I’m run ragged every day.” She looks towards her fattened sister face and watches as her throat undulates with every swallow a few times. “I think I’m getting over my clumsiness, and I’m also growing into your big shoes. I hope my service as head maid will make you proud.” She watches as the mound of fried cookie dough disappears into her dear sister. Once the platter is empty, the newly-appointed head maid begins to leave the bedroom. As she does so, she hears Belfast let out a guttural burp, followed by Dido ordering Sirius to start hand feeding the Town-class cruiser.
Day 23
A steady downpour beats on the windows lining the walls, and it would be sunset now on a clear day. Bellona rushes through the hallways towards Belfast’s room as best she could, not fully used to the maid uniform she dons on occasions. She is scheduled to serve the fourth batch of cookie dough today, but an unfortunate mishap involving a mischievous monitor led to them all falling into muddy water outside. The parttime maid had to rush back to the chow hall and get Howe, Edinburgh, and Newcastle to help remake the snack. This time, she is careful to avoid mishaps while also delivering quickly. When she reaches her destination, she finds the room empty except for Sheffield and roughly a quarter of the county fair left. There is a small mess of grease, butter, and meat here and there around the bed at the end of every day. Not the fault of Belfast, who gorges herself in such an immaculately clean manner that leaves no more than a dozen drops of grease across her blubber, but rather the result of the few spills caused by the clumsiness of Dido and Sirius, who profusely apologize to Sheffield every night. The cool and collected agent works fast at replacing the bed with clean sheets, blankets, and pillowcases.
“Ah, you’re late. Belfast is bathing now, but I’m sure she’ll still accept the bedtime snack.” Sheffield does not even slow down her duty while casually addressing Bellona. The late arrival then makes her way to the bathroom.
Belfast, who has just passed two thousand pounds, lounges at the center of the newly refurbished bathtub surrounded by her entourage of maids. Each udder has grown to at least fifty pounds and puts ample pressure on the top of her overstuffed belly. Her hips and shelflike ass have grown to four people in width. Her thighs are thicker than most tree trunks. Her gurgling, aching double belly has grown so fat it sticks out about five feet from her torso, and the fat has layered her stomach so much that her belly crease never shallows from the stuffing and the maids have to massage deeply into the blubber in order to soothe the cruiser’s overtaxed gut.
Each maid has a duty, including the newly assigned Hermione. Scrubbing and washing, armed with shower hoses, into the folds, under the breasts, and effortlessly tipping the massive cruiser to the side to get between the thighs and under her gut. Belfast hiccups intermittently, sending subtle shakes throughout her fattened body that immediately get lost in all of the other jiggles caused by the scrubbing from the Royal Maids. Hermione, armed with a soapy sponge, scrubs deep inside of the cavernous bellybutton. Charybdis lathers and shampoos the former head maid’s long white hair. The cruiser has her eyes closed, and her slim face looks blissful amidst the pampering. The clockwork efficiency of washing an undulating mountain of lard almost mesmerizes Bellona.
“Excuse me, maids, but I finally have Belfast’s last snack for today.” The Royal Knight approaches Charybdis since she is the one closest to the gluttonous cruiser’s mouth.
“Very good. Belfast was growing restless without her last snack for the day. Just set it on the sink counter for now, and fetch us a fork and the bowl of butter.” Bellona does as she is told, passing by a busy Sheffield again.
With everything together, Charybdis gives instructions to her sister on what to do with the snack. “Since it’s the end of the day, just pour as much of the butter as you can onto the snack and start using the fork to feed her quickly. I’m sure our greedy girl here is ecstatic to have some extra buttery deep-fried cookie dough while being pampered.” She looks down at the head she is washing, which responds with two slow nods between hiccups.
Bellona continues following orders. First the large bowl of butter, unquestionably filled to the brim. While memory serves that she usually poured about a fifth onto the dough, this time she completely drowns the snack in a about half of the entire bowl. She sets the bowl back down, and starts delivering the snack to Belfast, who already has her maw open and waiting. The Royal Knight continues stuffing her former boss as the team of Royal Maids begin rinsing the suds off of her body. The speed at which Belfast swallows the buttered balls amazes Bellona, and she is forced to deliver the next calorie bomb to her gullet right before she chokes down the previous one. With the final piece of the snack inside of Belfast’s giant gut, the maids break out the towels and start drying her down.
“Huff… So good. Huff… More… Huff… Please feed me more… Huuoorp!”
“No talking, now, Belfast.” Charybdis continues drying Belfast’s hair while chastising her. “Sister, please help Belfast finish the last of the butter for today. And once she’s finished that, bring the rest of the cups of bacon grease over.”
The Royal Knight brings the bowl of butter to Belfast’s lips, and the glutton begins to suck down the fatty fluid. “I’m sorry Belfast, but it looks like I won’t be able to teach you swordsmanship after this is over.” The cruiser only responds with a low moan of painful fullness as she audibly gulps down the entire bowl. Bellona swiftly leaves and returns with the last few cups of bacon grease, passing Sheffield in the bedroom again as she uses cleaning bullets to get the last few droplets of grease and butter off of the floor. She does much the same with the grease as the butter, presenting the cups to Belfast, who eagerly gulps everything down.
“Thank you for your service, Bellona.” With her duty completed, the Royal Knight can finish up for the night, but chooses to stay and watch how the Royal Maids move Belfast. Once they finish drying her fattened body, Dido, Sirius, Charybdis, and Scylla carefully lift the cruiser by the thighs and back. While each of them separately can lift more than what Belfast weighs, they work together to carry her around because of her doughy girth. Bellona continues watching as they first sit their charge on the freshly-cleaned bed, two of them then go around to the other side, and then all four lift her again to bring Belfast to sitting upright with her back against soft pillows.
With their duty done, the Royal Maids line up in front of Belfast and bow towards her.
“Good night, Belfast!” All of the maids leave for the night, and usher Bellona out of the room with them. Not even a minute later, the greedy maid is fast asleep. A rumbling can be heard halfway down the hallways in the quiet of the night, but instead of snoring, it is the sound of Belfast’s massive gut, putting in as much work at night as it does during the day.
Day 31
At first, I was scared. Receiving such a punishment out of the blue made me think my honorable master hated me. But on that first night, while lying in bed feeling my pulse throughout my entire belly, my master arrived late and fell asleep embracing me. This only continued for the first few days, and then he started using my belly as a pillow. In a few weeks, my darling started falling asleep curled up on my stomach, listening to the gurgles rising up from inside of me as I look into his cute sleeping face. There is nothing to fear, I still have his love.
Breathing and talking has become difficult. Fat and grease run down my throat every waking second, giving me almost no time to breathe. By the end of the day, my full belly pushes violently up against my lungs. My heavy breasts and gut sit unmoving, so when I finally get the chance to breathe deeply, the act pushes my torso back into the wall of pillows behind me. The maids chastise me on the few occasions I talk, and the only sounds allowed the pass my lips are burps, groans, breaths, and chewing.
The first few days left me so full I felt like I was about to burst. As the weeks continued, I started waking up the day after feeling hungrier and hungrier. I have grown to enjoy the taste of the county fair and the fried cookie dough and the butter and the bacon grease. Every day I push myself to eat even more and more. To fill my mouth with as much of the juicy, greasy meat as possible. I once stuffed a dozen balls of buttered cookie dough into my mouth before swallowing them all whole. I fall asleep every night looking forward to filling up my belly even more the next day. I never want this to stop.
Sirius tips another plate of buttery, greasy bacon-wrapped beef towards my face and starts scraping everything into my awaiting gullet. By now, I can comfortably choke down a dozen pounds of the county fair in an hour. I no longer have to lift a finger as Sirius feeds me the meat while Dido feeds me the bacon grease and cookie dough. Besides the painful stretch of my stomach, I have actually enjoyed this past month. I just sit in bed all day, eat nearly a hundred pounds of food, rub my overstuffed belly, and occasionally burp. The maids take care of everything else.
With the plate finished, Dido brings a cup of bacon grease to my mouth, and I chug it down. While I expected more meat to follow after the grease, Dido then brings the bowl of butter towards my mouth.
“Wait. Huff… What about… Huff… the county fair? Burp!”
Dido responds with a smile. “Don’t worry, Belfast, you finally finished your meal. We just need to get the last of the bacon grease and butter into your belly.” She tips the rim of the bowl against my lips, and I instinctively tilt my head back and starts chugging the fattening liquid. The last dozen or so bowls of butter and cups of grease seem to take me forever despite the fact I am chugging the calories down faster than ever before.
“Congratulations, Belfast! You finished the county fair and emptied the drums of butter and bacon grease!” I simply sit there and slowly look around the room at all of the other maids. Charybdis, Scylla, and Hermione continue massaging into my blubbery belly. Over my left udder, I can barely see the empty tray that held the county fair for the past month. That huge, calorie-dense monstrosity, wrapped in bacon and dripping with frying oil and grease and completely dwarfing me the very first day. All of it is now inside of my body either as all of the dense fat layering my breasts, belly, butt, and thighs or as the last remnants I am currently digesting in order to sink deeper into obesity.
The gurgling and rumbling throughout my belly seem to grow in intensity as they build up into my chest.
“BUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRPPPPPP!!!”
The sound of my burp rattles nearly everything in my room and can no doubt be heard across the entire port.
“Such a hearty burp, Belfast. Now, it’s time for you to get up. Master will want to know how much you weigh.”
I just sit on the bed waiting for the maids to handle me. At the end of every week, after bathing, they carried me onto an industrial scale to check my weight. From what I remember, my weights at the end of each week rose at least six hundred pounds from the previous week. As I think this information over, I realize that none of the maids are moving to carry me.
“Will you… Huff… ladies help me… Huff… to the scale? Huorp!”
“Terribly sorry, Belfast, but now that you have finished the county fair, we Royal Maids are no longer allowed to help you move around. Master’s orders.”
Dread fills me as I realize that not only do I have to get out of bed myself, but also walk for the first time in a month with all this extra weight. All around I see the friendly faces of the Royal Maids, but not a single one will budge to help me. Looking at Sirius, I notice she holds a camera pointed at me.
“Master would like this momentous occasion recorded for later.”
I actually feel my cheeks become red from embarrassment from Sirius’ words. Without any solid surface to brace myself against, I shake myself from left to right, jostling the fat throughout my body. The maids stop massaging my belly now, and I start rolling myself to the left side of the bed. The shuffling, shaking, and rolling to get myself to the edge of the leaves me huffing and puffing, and every now and then the shaking forces another burp out of me. Once at the edge, I rock myself back and forward while utilizing the weight of my fattened gut to pull me forward.
Standing straight up, I can feel the full weight of my body. Indeed, I am just as capable as the other cruisers of carrying this weight, but my stamina has vastly diminished in comparison. Every step involves my knees pressing into the underside of my belly. Leaning forward even just a little bit causes my gut to brush against the floor. Jiggles constantly ripple across my entire mass, and I can feel the butter and grease slosh inside my stretched gut. My thickened thighs constantly rub against each other. My ass has become a wide and heavy shelf about six people in width, and each round cheek could support one of the serving trays loaded with juicy, fattening food. I unconsciously drool a bit at the thought of carrying entire meals around on my rear. My long white hair that used to hang down to my knees now barely drapes to the halfway point of my jiggly butt. I can’t help but move my lean arms around, exploring and groping every inch of soft blubber they can reach. It takes half a minute to go from the bed to the bathroom entrance.
“Huff… Huff… Please bring me… Huff… the last… Uuuurp! Of the snacks. Uurgh… And send for… Huff… King George V.” At my request, Cleopatra silently leaves the room.
It takes me another full minute to arrive at the scale. I slowly take one jiggly step after another onto the cold steel platform and then lean forward onto my groaning belly to take some of the weight off my legs. The scale takes a moment to calculate as the Royal Maids watch the screen.
“Wow, Belfast! You weigh 2,780 pounds! Our honorable master will be very pleased.”
I cannot lie about feeling some pride in reaching such a colossal weight. I even feel a wetness seeping between my thighs as I become turned on from not just my size, but also how much I had to exert myself just to simply waddle less than a hundred feet to the scale. I then have to exert just as much effort to waddle back to bed and jiggle myself back into the center. I sink back into the pillows while waiting for King George V to arrive as I start to feel peckish.
Sirius stops the recording, and the other maids go about cleaning up all of the equipment and silverware used during my feast. After a few minutes, I hear the clack of heels coming down the hallway over the sound of my gurgling belly. The clacking gets louder until King George V and Cleopatra enter my room, each of them carrying a platter of deep-fried cookie dough while Cleopatra also holds a bowl of melted butter.
“Great job finishing the county fair, Belfast. Did you find it to your liking?”
“It was delightful Your Majesty. Uurp! May I have seconds… Huff… and thirds and fourths… Huff… and fifths? And… Huff… double the snacks. Huff… Please, I’m so hungry. Buuuurp!”