#Madeleine Cooper | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sometimescozy · 7 months

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Filling Her Role, Pound by Pound

(extreme weight gain, immobility, humiliation, force feeding, burping)

“And here we are. Home sweet home.” said the royal secretariat to the diminutive figure beside her as they looked towards the imposing mahogany doors they had just stopped in front of. She was as stone-faced as ever, not even bothering to look the ex-princess beside her in the eye.

“Oh… so this… is meant to be my new living quarters…?”

“Correct. I had it arranged at once, once you’d shown yourself to be willing to cooperate.” The royal advisor impatiently fiddled with the pages of the clipboard she had tucked into her chest. She looked as if she wanted to be just about anywhere other than here.

“I… I see! How… accommodating of you!” Madeleine deliberated over every word, feeling out the secretariat’s reactions with worried glances during each gap in the conversation. She realized better than anyone just how precarious her situation was, and she wasn’t looking to do anything to jeopardize it when she was the closest to anything she could describe as stability in eons.

Madeleine, once the princess and heir to the throne of the most powerful line of canine nobles the Hallowed Isles had ever seen, was now the sole member of the once all-powerful Aldwulf main family not currently locked up several hundred feet under the castle ground floor by the newly empowered Lupus family. As a family member not associated with its political branch, she had been told that she would receive preferential treatment, and would be allowed to serve a brand new position in the royal cabinet, made just for her. It was preferential treatment predicated on her assumed harmlessness, and she intended to show just how harmless she could really be.

“Well, no reason to delay any further. Let’s get you situated.”

As the secretariat stepped forward, a pair of maids silently moved ahead of her to push open the double doors without even needing to be told. The princess lifted her frilly white dress and scurried along behind her.

The room that they stepped into was a somewhat sterile wash of white and grays, the occasional pink trim and scarlet red drapes breaking up the monotony. Tremendous pale columns framed the light pink carpet that stretched down the expanse of the elongated chamber, giving it a throne-room-esque appearance befitting of an aristocrat. Curiously though, Madeleine noted, was that there wasn’t much furniture to be seen, the side walls largely sparse for what was supposed to be her primary living space. Even more curious though, was what lied at the far end of the chamber. An exceedingly large mattress filled the vast majority of the far wall, placed under a structure that looked like something between a canopy bed and a farmer’s market stall. Was this… supposed to be a throne?

“Oh…! How… unique! I’ve never seen a dwelling quite like this before!” Madeleine could only do so much to hide her confusion as she searched for a way to compliment the bizarre arrangement. Casually strolling over to the mystery mattress, she plopped herself down by its edge to better assess what it actually was she was looking at. “Is this… meant to be my throne?” She gently stroked her hand over the silky mattress cover.

“Hmph. Well, you could put it like that.” She let out an exhale that sounded almost amused. “Well then, if we’re all ready, let’s get this wrapped up.” In one swift motion, she handed off her clipboard to a maid in her peripheral, and clapped twice, the crack of her gloved hands reverberating off of the barren walls of the cryptic throne room. Not skipping a beat, two maids collapsed upon Madeleine’s perched position in the center of the mattress. Two metallic clicks were heard, and each maid backed away with a segment of rope in hand, both of which were firmly secured to the steel cuffs that now binded the wrists of the thoroughly bewildered princess.

“Wh-wha… what is…” The princess couldn’t complete a full sentence, her mind racing a mile a minute

“Oh. So you weren’t informed, then?”

“In…formed? Of… of what?!” The feigned gracious tone of Madeleine's voice fell as her panic grew, turning to her side to see the maids fastening her restraints to the supports of the canopy.

The secretariat’s eyes widened. “Of… the position you’ve been assigned? You hadn’t even bothered to ask what exactly you’d be doing?” Her mouth twitched at its corners. The level of ineptitude being displayed by this goldilock’d little fool was beyond what she could’ve ever imagined.

“I was told that I would be receiving preferential treatment! What kind of preferential treatment is this meant to be?!” Madeleine’s face had twisted into a furious scowl, staring venom-soaked daggers into the traitorous desk jockey before her.

“Oh, preferential treatment, undoubtedly. You’ll be given everything you could possibly want, princess. And so, so much more” The secretariat folded her arms behind her back as she began to pace. “You see, to put it frankly, you’re… useless. Just entirely, utterly incompetent. There is no existing formal position that we could give you that a dozen of your own former servants couldn’t do with infinitely more proficiency than you could ever muster.”

“You… you ingracious little… “ Madeleine's hair stood on end as she growled through gnashed teeth.

“Naturally, we didn’t create a special position in the royal cabinet for you because of any talent you possess. You, princess, have something much more useful to us.” Swiveling on her heels, the secretariat spun towards the princess and leaned towards her until their noses were mere inches apart.

“Your pride.”

“H-huh?!”

“You see, what you are is a symbol. Everyone in the Aldwulf kingdom cherished their beloved princess, and her radiant golden hair that glimmered like the sun. And undoubtedly, there’s plenty out there that still hold that image in their mind. The last brilliant ember of the kingdom that once was. Some might even yearn to see that ember grow into a great blaze, a blaze that consumes all, leaving only an emptiness. A vacuum, free to be occupied by those foolhardy enough to stoke the fire in the first place.” She said this as she backed away from the princess, turned towards a maid, and gestured towards the doors.

“Now, obviously, my superiors don’t want that. And that’s where you come in.” As she said this, the large mahogany double doors at the entrance of the room parted, and in came what looked like the preparations of an excessively lavish banquet. Carts piled high with roasted turkeys, parfaits, bowls full of boiled legumes, every holiday-time dish you could think of.

“It seems you’re so hopelessly lost that you haven’t even managed to catch wind of the name of your new title, so allow me to inform you: as of today, you are officially the royal cabinet’s one and only “Paragon of Excess.”

The princess was too bewildered to offer a response beyond slack jawed staring. She had an inkling of where this was going, but the notion was so absurd that she couldn’t bring herself to believe it.

“There’s a saying that goes, ‘a populace is a reflection of the values of its rulers.’ And you are to become a ruler that perfectly reflects the values we wish to see out of your former subjects: well-fed, docile, and utterly, entirely dependent.”

“You… accursed wretch! Why would I play along with anything that you cretins- hrrrrmph?!” Madeleine’s outrage was swiftly interrupted by the bread roll that was now crammed several inches past her lips, her jaw forced open by the black-gloved hand that now tightly gripped her mandible. The secretariat wiped the crumbs off of her free hand with her pants suit top.

“We don’t need you to play along, princess. You will eat. You will eat more than you ever imagined yourself capable of. And you will grow, and grow, and grow ever fatter until you’re so incredibly overburdened by your excess blubber that you wouldn’t be able to feed yourself without our help even if you wanted to. You will grow to fill every inch of this mattress bed. I will make sure of that, Madeleine.”

The princess’s eyes widened to the size of the saucers piled meters high on the carts in front of her. Her breathing began to grow ragged and heavy, the gravity of her predicament finally starting to settle in.

“Oh, did you really think you were going to be allowed to walk away scot free? As if you had no involvement in the many moons of tyranny the Aldwulfs inflicted on this land? No, my dear, silly little princess. You have a debt to pay. And you’ll be paying it off calorie by calorie, watching your waistline ever increase as you fatten up into the perfect, picturesque “Paragon of Excess” that you were always meant to be.” The secretariat traced the fingers of her free hand from the bony sternum to the tense midriff of the princess's lithe abdomen.

Tears of indignation welled up in the eyes of the disempowered royal. She had nowhere to run, nobody she could turn to in this castle she once called her own.

“I do hope you’re hungry, by the way. Your breakfast is long overdue.”

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“Please, princess… this would be much easier for the both of us if you’d just sit still...” The unfortunate curly-haired maid that had been given feeding duty today wiped her brow as she tried and failed to have the uncooperative brat before her open her mouth to eat the last of the danishes that had been loaded up onto the princess’s lunch cart.

“Mmmmrrrph!! N-no!!!” Hundreds of pounds of pale fleshy rolls were sent wobbling to and fro as the princess struggled, cherry paste smeared on her rounded cheeks from the maid’s many failed attempts to guide each pastry into her mouth.

Several months worth of being unwillingly pampered and fed had piled up onto the princess’s modest frame, and had ballooned her out into the fattest girl in the castle, bar none. Cascading rolls of adipose stacked like breakfast pancakes wrapped around her once slender form. Her tremendous ass spilled out over her bedsheets like a sack of gelatin, indenting the mattress where she sat. Her couch filling thighs tapered off to cankles that rode up over her dainty black shoes. Her pillowy upper arm fat rested comfortably against her flabby chest rolls. She was on her third set of cuffs, the last two having to be refitted after her swelling arm fat threatened to cut off circulation to her hands.

But what trounced all of that in magnitude was her tremendous slab of belly fat, which flooded out from underneath her previously ankle length dress, and entirely filled her generous plot of lap space. It surged far enough in front of her that it threatened to swallow up her knees in due time. She was nursing a full pantry’s worth of meals in her gut, the turgid mass of half-digested foodstuffs visibly bulging from the otherwise soft blanket of tummy fat. It audibly gurgled and groaned, seemingly only growing further upset by its owner’s constant squirming.

The amount of energy this girl had despite her current conditions was astounding. The exasperated maid girl was running out of patience. “Please, mistress, just this one last-”

As she spoke, the princess jerked her mass around all at once. Her rounded face collided with the incoming danish, sending it, and its cherry-flavored jam filling, careening into the marble tiling below.

“...Ah…” The commotion brought on the stares of a few other maids that had stayed behind to sweep the floor, before quickly resuming their work. Wasted food was a no-go when feeding the princess, she would undoubtedly be admonished for this. She stood up to grab a replacement danish, but quickly found that the breadbox was sorrowfully danish-less. She would have to march all the way back across the castle to the royal pantry just to get another. She clenched her teeth in frustration. “Why should I have to deal with… with this?”

“Ha! Serves you… hff… right, you lowbred… uuuoorp… cur!” The princess still managed to get a few petty jabs in through all her belching and wheezing.

“Just one more.” the maid thought to herself. “Just one more danish, and I’ll be able to return to my quarters. Just bear with it.” The maid grabbed the handlebars of the foodcart that she’d wheeled in a little under an hour ago, and prepared to start her trek down the long, winding castle corridors to retrieve another treat for this infuriating little aristocrat.

“Figures, that a… hah… low class mongrel like you wouldn’t even be fit to.. hrrp… feed me by hand! Maybe try looking into a… hff… position with the castle waste disposal services, that might be more your speed!”

The cart, and the maid attached to it, came to an abrupt halt as the princess finished. There was an uncomfortable silence in the air as the maid stood with her back turned, unmoving.

The princess was the first to speak. “W-what, did I… hff… strike a nerve with that one?”

“You know… they give us servants a lot more freedom with your diet than you would think, princess..” The maid calmly opened one of the cart’s side doors, and began rifling through its contents.

“What, hoping you’ll find another danish somewhere in… huuorp… those dusty little drawers?” A wry grin made its way across the face of the princess as she mocked her current feeder.

“No, mistress, we both know that’d be a waste of my time. This, however… is just what I was looking for.” As she said this, she pulled out a white ceramic pitcher, large enough to hold at least a gallon or so of liquid. “I’ve heard that you can be a bit sensitive to dairy, mistress. I just can’t remember though… does this “heavy whipping cream” stuff have a lot of that?” The maid repeatedly tapped her chin and furrowed her brow in as overtheatrically a manner as she could manage. “I just have suuuch trouble remembering these things sometimes…” She began to emotionlessly march towards her mistress’s position on the mattress, jug of extremely dairy dense cream in hand. “Anyways, you’ve got a bit more room for a palate cleanser, right, princess?”

The wry smile of the overconfident brat was quickly replaced with a look of abject horror. “S.. s-stop!! Of course it has milk in it, you fool!! What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Ah… sorry princess! Things like this don’t come naturally to someone as low class as me!” Despite her apologetic tone, she continued towards the princess unabated.

Madeleine realized now that she wasn’t joking. She was about to be made to drink the entire pitcher of thick, sweetened cream if she didn’t do something drastic.

“P-please… I… I take it back… I’m… I’m s-sorry, ma’am…” the princess groveled through her teeth, forced to swallow her pride to avoid digestive ruination. She found not a drop of sympathy in the glacial gaze of the maid girl rapidly closing the distance between them.

“I-I’ll be good, I’ll eat the danishes, I- glrk!” Her pleading was cut short by the ceramic lip of a milk pitcher placed into her mouth. The maid's other hand was clasped firmly around her nose, keeping her entirely unable to draw another breath until she’d made enough progress in that pitcher to clear an airway for her mouth.

“glrk… glnk… glrnk… glnk…” she frantically chugged away at the dense cream, the pressure in her already overpacked stomach mounting with every gulp. Her eyes fluttered, the shock of taking on so much pressure at once making the sides of her vision go fuzzy. The effect on her digestive tract was immediate, the volume and frequency of her belly’s burbling increasing by the second. The tightening, reddened swell of her upper belly steadily hiked her dress further up, revealing more and more soft belly flesh with every gulp. Rivulets of cream dribbled past her lips and down her soft chin, the princess unable to fully keep up with the overwhelming f“I’m… I’m going to burst…” The princess could only shut her eyes and pray that the elasticity of her stomach would hold.

“glrnk… guh!” With an exasperated gasp, the pitcher is pulled away from Madeleine’s mouth, the flecks of foam splashing from its rim the only contents that remained.

“haaah… haaauuUUUUOOOORP- urrgh...” The princess’s horrendously bloated belly rose and fell in short, jerky gasps, her overstretched diaphragm compressing her chest, preventing her from comfortably filling her lungs completely. The sullen maid looking down on her ruined form couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for her, even through her vitriol for the haughty (fomerly) little brat. “Maybe… I went a bit overboard.” Glancing over her shoulders, the maid nestled herself into the warm flank of the plushy princess. Pressing her face between her hanging arm fat and the roll that connected her backfat and breast, she inhaled as deeply as she could. The overpampered princess almost had a cloyingly sweet scent to her. She’d been frequently scrubbed and spritzed with the most luxurious lotions and fragrances available to the entire kingdom, but no amount of artificial aroma could cover up the acridity of her sweaty, overtaxed body. Ironic, that her smell would match her personality so fittingly.

The princess was hardly in a lucid enough state to protest, a feeble groan the only response she had to such an invasive act. “Uuuurrggllllgghh…”

“Mistress, I… may have been… a bit harsh today.” As she said this, the maid began gently kneading circles into the maid’s soft underbelly. “But it’s our job to feed you, and it’s your responsibility to dutifully eat what you’re fed… okay?

“UUUUOOORP- mmmMnNnnn…” The princess was too busy struggling to remain conscious to formulate any kind of coherent response. The dairy in her belly was working overtime on her digestive system, the churning and bloating it was causing slowly ramping up the pressure inside of her every second. Rumbly, humid belches escaped her mouth every few seconds, her body doing everything in its power to alleviate tension.

“The maidstaff works very, very hard to keep you bathed and fed… So be a bit more cooperative the next time we do this… okay? Not just me, but the other maids as well… okay?”

“MmmmMMmrrrMmph…” Madeleine’s incoherent moaning was the closest thing to an affirmation the maid would get out of her in this state.

“Good. Now just relax, princess. You did very well.” The maid leaned in to plant a light kiss on the painfully reddened apex of Madeleine’s drum tight upper belly.

Madeleine didn’t even care. She was just… so sleepy. All she could think about was how heavy her eyelids felt, and how… comfortable her mattress felt. And then, without warning, everything went black, and she fell into a deep, long sleep.

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The clinking of plates shuffling reverberated through the halls. Dozens of bread boxes, filled with the highest quality baked goods money could buy were packed like sardines into the heavy wooden cart making its way down the castle hall. Today was a big day. This afternoon would mark the annual anniversary of the princess’s coronation as the “Paragon of Excess,” and on her family name, Lucille C. Vanderbilt, standing head maid of the Lupus monarchy, would make sure that it would be a grand occasion.

Reaching the doors to the princess’s grand throne room, a low, bassy murmuring could be heard even through the thick mahogany door panels. “Goodness! It seems the princess is feeling eager today…!” Lucille murmured under her breath excitedly. The day was off to as good of a start as she could’ve possibly hoped.

Pushing her cart through the wide double doors, the maid couldn’t help but grin at the grotesquely spoiled lump of excess that sat before her.

“Good morning, my wondrously plump lady!”

“HUUUOORRP… hmph.”

The maid could only beam with pride at the tremendous, pouty pile of plush that was the former princess. The once petit Madeleine was sitting just as she usually was, and considering the size she was currently at, where she would almost certainly be for the foreseeable future. The princess had ballooned into a staggeringly colossal mound of blubber, her growing form having swelled to fill the better half of the once staggeringly oversized mattress. Bare flesh spilled everywhere, her dress having been outsized to the point of redundancy. Each of her tremendous asscheeks pushed far enough out from it that they could be seen from the front. They had grown to rise above her head when sitting, and lifted her useless feet almost a full foot from her seat. Her fully exposed belly fat sagged all the way past the lip of the mattress, gently kissing the floor beneath. Two flabby breasts adorned by widened pink teats sat heavily on top of it, having grown too large to be contained by her woefully undersized dress months ago. Madeleine had grown into an impotent pile of lard. Willingly or not, she had grown into her title better than she ever could’ve imagined.

“...You’re late.” As she grew closer, the roaring of Madeleine’s ravenous guts became ever-increasingly audible. She’d already cleared away enough turkey to feed a small village that same morning, and yet her stomach bellowed out like she hadn’t eaten in a week.

“Apologies, mistress, I had to make certain all of the preparations made for today were in order.” Lucille pushed the cart to an open space next to the princess’s throne, and then circled back to approach the princess from the front. “After all, it’s a very big day for a very big puppy, isn’t it!” She began to rub large, sweeping circles into the princess’s paunch, sending ripples through her tub of wobbly belly fat.

“Nrrrrrngggh… UORP… hnnn… UUURP” The princess could only squirm and whine as her face flushed a bright shade of pink from the maid’s condescension. Short belches forced their way out of her lips, jostled out from the depths of her digestive tract by the maid’s vigorous kneading.

“I’m sure you must be positively starving after going a whole 2 hours without eating, huh? A girl like you needs all the food she can get, after all!”

“...Not particularly.” Madeleine’s eyes fell to her chest as her stomach let out a particularly loud burble.

“Ohoho! Of course, my lady.” Briefly pausing her massage of the princess’s tremendous midsection, Lucille began to walk back towards the cart she’d left by the princess’s flank.

“Then surely, you wouldn’t have the appetite for such an indulgent dessert then, would you…?”

“What do you…” As she began to speak, Lucille opened the side cabinets of the cart, and a wave of tart, saccharine aromas flooded the senses of the princess. “Is… is that…?!” She’d recognize it anywhere. Her favorite dessert from long since before she had become the subject of a months-long ritualistic fattening project, custard pie. It had been well over a year since she’d been able to even taste her beloved treat, but no amount of time could remove that distinctive scent from her memory.

“Indeed it is, princess! I had it specially made for today, to celebrate your anniversary as our perfect little paragon of gluttony!” Picking up one of the pie tins, she lifted it to the princess’s face, hovering it just below her nose. Madeleine’s senses were being overwhelmed, every breath bringing in a fresh wave of sweet, flaky pleasure.

“G-Give it! Gimme! P-HUUUORP-please…!” The princess began to wildly thrash about in her restraints, several tons of soft puppy fat undulating like the tides of the ocean as she impotently struggled to seize the delectable treat that sat mere inches from her face.

“Ah ah ah, my greedy little butterball, not so fast!” The pie was sharply pulled back, as Lucille pressed her index finger into the tip of the princess’s nose.

“H-huh…? Wh… why?” Saliva dribbled from the princess’s greedy lips, the former monarch unable to hide her desperation.

“Now, now… patience is a virtue, dear Madeleine. You’ll have your pie yet. But first…” Lucille stepped off of the side of the mattress she had climbed upon, and began to pace. “...We must make a deal!”

“A… deal…?” Madeleine sat helplessly, twitchy and restless, afraid of what Lucille would say next. She’d have turned her nose up at such a suggestion a short while ago, but she was gradually learning not to get overly defiant with the maid staff.

“Yes, my lady! A deal! As today is a special day, and this is a very special treat, I figured it’d only be right if you were to display particularly special behavior, no?” Lucille turns towards the princess sporting a grin that was downright devilish. “So, princess.” As she said this, she circled back around to the princess’s side, and with all the grace she could manage in a frilly white apron, vaulted herself atop the princess’s heaping boulder of belly fat, and clasped her piggish cheeks between her supple fingers. “I want you to do something for me first.”

“Nnnnnnrrrrgh… Wh… whauUUOOOORRRP- what… do you mean by-HUUUOORP- that…?” Lucille’s weight was forcing ever more belches from Madeleine’s turbulent gut.

“Oh, it’s simple, princess! I just need you to say one simple phrase:”

“Please, Madam Lucille, fatten me into the helpless plump princess I was always meant to be!”

A deafening silence filled the room as Madeleine took in what she’d just heard. “C… come again…?” squeaked out the princess, unsure if this was meant to be a practical joke of some sort.

“Of course my lady! I want you to say: Please, Madam Lucille, fatten me into the helpless over-plumped princess I was always meant to be!" She put special emphasis on the most humiliating parts of the phrase, reveling in her power over the rotund royal.

"...Surely you can't be serious." The princess's tone became cold. A hint of the princess's dignified noble spirit of old flickered in her eyes.

"Oh, I'm being very serious, my lady! For such a special treat, surely such a simple task shouldn't be a big deal, right? And, well, you are a very helpless, and very plump princess, after all, right?" She wobbled Madeleine's tremendous jowls around like underfilled water balloons.

"Mmmmrrrph..."

"And mistress, you know as well as I do that the only way a helpless over-plumped princess like you is getting that pie is by doing exactly as i say... right?

"...Mnnnnrmmmph..." Madeleine shut her eyes. She already knew how this would end.

"So... let's make this easy for the both of us, okay?" She lifted the tin of warm custardy goodness back under the princess's nose. "Now... what does a good princess say?"

"I... I'm... um... I..." Madeleine stammered as she tried to find a way out of this that didn't involve giving up her beloved dessert.

"Come on...! You can do it...!"

"P... Plea..." Madeleine's eyes darted back and forth between the pie and a portrait of her former figure that sat on the wall beside her.

"It's okay... be a good girl, and you can have as muuuch as you'd like..." Lucille cooed at her, rhythmically stroking the princess's fattened cheek as she dangled the pie tin in front of her like a hypnotist sedating their victim. Saliva dribbled from the princess’s greedy lips. Her composure was melting away by the second.

"P... Please, Madam Lucille, fatten me into the helpless over-plumped princess I was always meant to be! Please, I-BUUUOOORP- I'll be good, just give me the pie, please!! I'll do anything, I- mmmmppphh!" A warm spoonful of thick, creamy pie filling flooded her cheeks midway through her groveling. Ecstasy washed over her body, any kind of shame that she felt entirely overridden by raw sugary bliss.

"Good princess...! Good girl...!" Lucille excitedly stroked the princess's head as she cooed. This truly couldn't have gone any better.

"Mmmmmm... Nnnnnnnnnnnn..." Madeleine could only moan desperately through her mouthful of custard. The only thing she could think was just how badly she wanted more.

"Now... for the rest of your reward!"

Spoonful by spoonful, Madeleine gradually packed away nearly a full bakery's worth of pies, hardly even stopping to catch her breath. The pressure in her belly mounted bit by bit, her gut swelling into a turgid boulder of densely packed pie filling coated in a thick layer of puppy fat.

"Nnnnrrrrgh..." About two-thirds of the way through her meal, the princess let out a groan of discomfort, a telltale sign that she was nearing max capacity.

"Oh deary me, someone's getting a bit full, isn't she?" Popping the spoon out of the princess's pursed lips, she began to rub the princess's chest in short circles. "Maybe it'd be worth taking a short break..."

"N-No!!" yelped Madeleine. Almost instinctively, she tugged at her bindings, her head jerking towards the spoon that had been so rudely removed from her mouth. "I- UURP- I'll be fine... just... more pie, please..."

Lucille let a sharp exhale out of her nose. "My, my, a cart full of custard pie was all it really took to pacify our normally so unruly mistress? Ohohoho!"

"Mmmmrrrpph..." Petulant grumbling was just about the greatest show of defiance Madeleine was able to manage at this point.

After several more minutes of feeding, the cart had been emptied out. Madeleine sat in a blissful daze, the buttery delicacy sitting heavily in her reddened, tightly filled gut. Lucille sat by her side, massaging her overpacked midsection, and listening to the steady stream of burps that she elicited from the food-drunk doughball.

A warmth filled the air. Even with the painfully overstretched stomach that she nursed, even with her tremendously fat, half-naked body pinning her to the mattress below, even with this sickeningly affectionate maid stroking her like one would stroke a needy housepet, Madeleine felt... good. Better than she ever could've expected to feel after being delegated to the unwilling role of the castle butterball. Somehow... she felt like she could get used to this.

"Lucille..."

"Yes, my lady?"

"If-HHUUUOOORRP- if I'm good... will I... BUUOOORP- ...get more pie...?"

A devilish grin stretched across Lucille's kind face. Finally. Any trace of the proud, aristocratic spirit inside of this wobbly pile of fattened princess was gone. She had finally truly become the “Paragon of Excess” that she was meant to be.

"As much as you'd like, my dear...!"

#weight gain #feederist #stuffed belly #puppyposting #immobile #my art #text post

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