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Peacetime consists of significantly more butter and pastries than Hubert had anticipated. Endless war and treachery gave way to candied fruits and rich, thick cuts of the most decadent meats drenched in expensive wine sauces. Strategic meetings with their forces turned into joyous dinners, celebrating the most mundane of achievements using their fat pockets.
Hubert could do little more than watch on in intrigue rather than disgust he’d expected. The old guard had disappeared shortly after the war concluded, and Edelgard replaced them just as quickly with those who could be trusted.
His husband, Ferdinand bore the brunt of many changes that spread throughout the prosperous empire. Ever the schmoozer, he’d attended many evening get-togethers for both work and pleasure. Though Hubert took on the majority of the work needed from them, Ferdie liked to feel important. And one place he thrived more than Hubert was amid a crowd.
He ate, drank, and ate some more among important company, selling fictitious political promises to dignitaries both domestic and foreign until his belly grew thick and his face rounded out. The cherubic look worked for him, and Hubert was unable to remove his hands from his new husband’s ballooning body, proud of the intelligent, full-bodied minx that charmed a room of bigwigs and warmed their bed at night.
Sometimes, jealousy got the best of him, and he’d think of ways he could keep Ferdinand warming their bed instead of eating out of another man’s palm.
“What is the matter, dearest?”
“I wish to continue my book, but the treats you’ve brought look far too scrumptious to ignore. How perplexing!” Ferdinand rubs his free hand over the generous arc while greedily eyeing the full plate.
“Well, let’s get you over to our bed, hm? That way you can easily balance that book on your lovely tummy without the pages becoming sticky.”
“I could,” Ferdinand worries his lower lip. “But I worry that if I were to eat all of these cakes in bed, I will be unable to rise again before daybreak!”
He grabs a danish from the plate and guides it to his lips without a thought. Little lewd sounds escape him as he chews.
“I fail to see an issue with this. Like I said, pleasure is what’s important in peacetime, Ferdinand.”
“I shouldn’t get used to it,” Ferdinand muses, ruefully sucking residual frosting from his thumb. His ample cheeks and double chin ripple from the movement. “You should feed me, Hubie. That way I can focus on my book.”
“My darling your bottom hardly fits in this chair anymore. A few more cakes and you’ll be trapped.”
Ferdinand pouts and places his book on a nearby table. He founds his arms stubbornly, flabby biceps oozing onto said chair’s arms. A thick roll of fat folding from his chest to his upper back flows onto the chair. His full thighs are too constrained by the furniture’s restrictive design to accommodate his massive belly which perches atop.
He looks very uncomfortable with his whole body heaving from every petulant harrumph.
Hubert doesn’t think he’s ever met a man so huge in his life. Even Ferdinand’s own father – known for his greed and gluttony for power – is easily dwarfed by the man his son has become. It sends a shiver down Hubert’s spine. He grabs the overfilled plate.
“Well, maybe just one.”
Ferdinand opens his mouth like a baby bird, eyes fixed on Hubert as he chews and swallows far too much buttery pastry. He rubs large, open circles across his own belly to help digestion. His eyes glaze over as he focuses less on enjoying the dessert’s flavours Hubert pushes between his lips, instead preparing his body to accommodate his unabashed gluttony.
The food is an afterthought to his languid desire of growing larger and more complacent. Second to the evidence of giving himself over to pleasure. Every pound gained proof of each toe-curling evening spent with his husband in their marriage bed, getting more than their fill of each other.
“Let’s get you up, Foxglove.” Hubert ruffles a few stray locks of his husband’s auburn hair.
“You are so eager to get me into that bed, you lech,” Ferdinand pouts playfully. He takes Hubert’s hand into his own, feeling the knobbly knuckles he so often caresses. It takes a few tries for Ferdinand to reach a standing position, as his knees wobble with the sudden bearing of Ferdinand’s full weight grinding down on his joints. It’s unpleasant, but Ferdinand is breathless with exhaustion and excitement.
His body is so unlike his former war-hardened physique, a body he’d been so proud of in his adolescence.
Hubert places a steadying hand on Ferdinand’s back, inches above the corpulent shelf ass that sticks out far too many inches from his body. It wobbles with every heavy step towards their bed, encased in overtaxed, soft nightclothes. They don’t dress up as often as they ought, for Ferdinand frets about the longevity of his formal attire if he were to wear them during an average day of listless gorging.
“It’s fortunate that you’ve retired from your ministerial duties, Ferdinand. If not for me, you’d be unable to pry your arse from that rickety office chair Edelgard thought appropriate for you.”
Ferdinand chuckles breathlessly, leaning more of his weight onto Hubert. “With your vigour, husband, you’d have broken that poor chair before the morning is out. Your need to blow off steam after spending five minutes speaking to another one of Edie’s ministers as insatiable, Hubert.”
“Now, now. Let’s not speak of appetite when you’re perfectly capable of falling through any chair of your choosing. Your appetite is the one I can’t quench, Ferdie.”
Hubert punctuates this by pushing a small pastry from the table between Ferdie’s lips. It seemed like so long ago Ferdinand had pushed himself away from it and into a standing position, and yet they’d hardly ten paces away from his well-worn couch.
Ferdie’s thick double chin bobs with each chew. It blooms and jiggles erotically, and Hubert can’t help but grab out and touch his buttery soft roll. Searing pain runs down the backs of Ferdie’s fat calves, a warning sign begging for him to sit down, and he whines around the fattening treat.
“Just a few more steps, love, and then you can eat and rest until your heart’s content.”
It should be an embarrassing thing to hear, to be soothed by one’s husband that his inability to stand for five minutes has resulted in a high level of dependence from Ferdinand, but Hubert’s hushed tone drips of reverence, smitten by the need for him to dote on his ever-expanding husband who has eaten himself to a state that his mobility is beginning to diminish.
He’s just full, of course, and indulgence has hindered his mobility. On an empty stomach, he’d be able to take a leisurely stroll through the gardens with his husband, listening off-handedly to discussions about what poisons they grow in these beautiful flowerbeds, and the ways in which they can be administered.
Probably.
Hubert’s erection presses into Ferdinand’s dimpled thigh, and he rocks back and forth into the chubby flesh as he helps lower Ferdie into a sitting position on their bed. The mattress dips low with an ominous groan that tickles the underside of Hubert’s cock through his clothes.
“Ready to lift?”
Ferdinand nods and lifts one of his heavy legs onto the bed, huffing and puffing while he pulls his tired body further up the mattress into a comfortable position. Hubert rewards him with a small chocolate from his bedside table, and helps him lift his other leg.
“Thank you, Hubert,” Ferdinand whispers with wide, innocent eyes. His rolls jiggle as he wiggles himself into the perfect position, happy to have the pressure taken from his poor back as his ponderous gut now pins him to the mattress.
Hubert can’t help but look on at his massive husband with wonder, starstruck at how such a perfect being belongs to him.
He was already beautiful when they married, a small round gut framed in the pure white satin of his ceremonial garb, but once they’d married, Ferdinand quickly became the physical embodiment of pleasure.
With every arduous flight of stairs, his cheeks flush the same way they do when Hubert kisses him hard. The moans he makes eating decadent fruit tarts cause jealousy to prickle under his husband’s skin. His knees buckle under his weight as if he’d been on them all night.
Their bed creaks louder from Ferdinand’s souring weight than on their honeymoon.
He breathes louder than ever before, like every noise that escapes Ferdinand is a siren song intending to seduce Hubert and keep him under his spell. It’s not necessary, of course, as nothing keeps him as spellbound as he is when Ferdie’s eyes look up to meet his own, pushing small morsels of fattening treats between his plump lips with spindly, scarred fingers. Ferdie’s cheeks hollow out (as best they can considering their size) and a blush overtakes them, reminiscent of the times Ferdinand has taken something else into his greedy mouth.
“Do you need help, Ferdie?”
Ferdinand’s nose scrunches up in question, unsure with what Hubert was referring to. He attempts to sit up to better look at his husband, but he’s too weak to lift his bloated body anymore today.
“It was no lie when you said you’d be unable to get up, huh?”
Ferdinand squawks at the accusation and rolls his hips in an attempt to gain enough momentum to rise. It’s pitiful and he only manages to work up a sweat with a lovely petal pink sheen.
Hubert hushes him and plants a palm atop his blubbery, mountainous stomach.
“It’s no problem, my love. You know I’ll always take care of you,” his hand fingers a thick belly roll that won’t flatten out even when he’s horizontal. “And when your legs fail you for good, I will continue to do so.”
Ferdinand moans. “Do you truly think I will grow so large?”
“Mm, I encourage it. There is no greater honour than to immobilise you with my love, Ferdinand.”
Wetness builds beneath countless hot and heavy rolls, and he tries to spread his massive legs to accommodate it.
“Don’t be ludicrous, Hubert!” He splutters. “There is no such possibility. I have heard that even in extreme situations, a man’s weight is bound to plateau.”
Ferdinand presses a fat, dimpled hand below his belly button and attempts to massage the budding tension away.
“While that may be true, you have been unable to walk further than thirty paces without becoming tantalisingly overwhelmed for a while now. It’s simply a matter of time before getting out of bed in the morning is but a memory.”
Ferdinand squeezes his eyes closed in a desperate attempt to stop himself from fantasising about the future Hubert paints for him. Heavy and full, bound to their wedding bed as Hubert does everything within his power to keep him there. To keep him safe. Coveted from the world they fought to be safer, knowing Hubert will never think that it is safe enough for Ferdinand to be.
Hubert continues to speak whilst he kneads Ferdinand’s wobbly flesh, ever the unruly kitten. “I can tell from your face that you want this, love.”
“And what do we do? If that is true, of course.”
“Then,” Hubert starts, looming over the endless waves of flesh that is his husband until he reaches a sensitive, freckled ear. “I take you apart with my hands and put you back together. After that, I request that dinner be brought to our chambers so I can properly begin our next stage of marriage.”
“And what is that?”
“Why, moulding your body to be fit for your forever home, Ferdinand,” Hubert whispers, planting a kiss on Ferdinand’s ear lobe. “Perhaps we should renew our vows before this inevitability so that I can swear before the Goddess every way I plan to care for you for the rest of our lives.”
“Hubert,” Ferdinand whines pitifully. He paws at his lower belly rolls, doughy biceps too big and weak to help him lift his stomach to get closer to his core.
“You cry so beautifully, my love. If you weren’t so stunning, I’d be disappointed that I can’t watch you play with yourself anymore. You used to writhe and moan like a dream when you touched your own cock.”
His flesh wobbles impatiently, Ferdinand weakly bucking his hips to attempt to alleviate the pressure on his weeping cock. He misses being able to touch himself too, as Hubert loves to tease and edge him until he’s painfully aware of his accelerated obesity.
“Yes, Hubert. I’m fat. No, Hubert. I can’t touch myself. Now will you please help me—”
His voice cuts off with a sob as he continues to thrust his hips and fuck his own rolls. The bed creaks louder and louder with each bounce, the bed threatening to buckle under the weight of Ferdinand’s pathetic display.
“There are still some chocolates by your bed, husband. Eat them, and I will tend to you.”
Ferdinand raises a fat, sweaty arm towards his bedside and grabs a handful of sickly chocolates into his pudgy fist. He swallows them faster than he can taste, the residue already melting into his palm.
“That’s a good boy. You are so good to me, angel, so obedient. You follow orders too well, I’m afraid you might have your wish by the end of the following year. What will you do then, Ferdinand? When you’re too big to find your own treats? Will you wait, like a good boy, for me to fill your greedy belly whenever I please?”
Hubert unbuckles his dark, pressed trousers to unveil a dark, hard cock begging to be buried between one of his husband’s many burgeoning rolls.
“Please—”
“Answer me, love. Then you will get everything you wish for.”
“Fuck—yes, Hubie. I will grow for you, until you see fit. Until I am bound to our wedding bed, waiting for your return until you can feed me bigger and fuck me harder than you did the previous evening.”
Hubert smirks, and holds up Ferdinand’s heaving overhang along with his nightclothes. Looking down at where Ferdinand’s obese thighs meet his swollen, glistening fat pad, he decides it’s a good enough replacement for a pussy. For now.
“Then let’s begin, my love.”