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(This story contains male WG, overeating, teasing, and some light M/M flirting.)
Prince Jerome sighed for the seventeenth time in as many minutes. He was so, ridiculously bored, bored with his servants, bored with his meals, bored with everything. Being the Heir Apparent to the Crown meant that everyone did everything for you, and sometimes it almost seemed that he had no control whatsoever.

Sighing again as he twirled his fork in the pasta that was put before him by someone, cooked by someone else, and even likely chosen by someone else, he debated eating the rest. Even if he did finish the amount on the plate, there was no way he could even hope to consume the food pilled high on platters and tureens that nearly covered all the available space on the huge table. He sighed again and went back to fork-twirling.

But then something caught Jerome’s eye. As he scanned across the assembled serving dishes again, hoping beyond hope that somehow something had changed, he saw a servant he hadn’t seen before enter the room. He was dressed in poor peasant clothes, meaning he wasn’t from the palace. He carried a small broom and a bucket, and was walking to one of the fireplaces.

Slightly less bored, Jerome asked, “You there, what are you doing?”

The man stopped in his tracks and looked over to the Prince, at which point he started a clumsy bow. “Forgive me, Yer Grace, but, beggin’ yer pardon, I was about to sweep out the fireplaces, if it please ye. I dint know you were still at supper – I can come back.” He started to back out of the room.

“Hold!” The man froze in place. “You may approach me.” Though the word ‘may’ was used, both men knew it for the command it was. The man started to take slow steady steps toward the table, bowing as best he could. After two steps, Jerome said, “Leave those things,” and he put the broom and bucket down before proceeding. Once he got to within six feet of the Prince he bowed deeply. “What’s your name?” Jerome asked.

“Paldrey, if it please ye, Yer Grace.”

“Paldrey. Very well. Join me at the table.”

Paldrey hesitated. “Sorry, Yer Grace, mayhap I didn’t hear ye right. Did ye say to join ye at the table?”

“Yes, and I am unaccustomed to repeating myself…”

“It’s just that, I don’t want to soil yer fine chair with me dirty clothes, and I’m not washed up…”

Jerome snapped his fingers. Thinking it was to silence him, Paldrey stopped talking. But he was approached by two finely-dressed servants who stripped him of his filthy pants and shirt. Standing there in his breeches as the Prince watched, Paldrey felt a little self-conscious about his concave abdomen and the ribs that stuck out clearly. One of the servants used a sponge out of a washbasin to wipe the dirt off of his body, and the other helped him into a clean but simple pair of pants and shirt. Once they were done combing his hair, they backed away.

Seeing no other choice, Paldrey approached a chair that he thought was neither too close nor too far away from the Prince. As he sat down, another servant put a plate full of food in front of him. Not knowing what was called for, Paldrey sat there, looking in Jerome’s direction but not meeting his gaze.

Jerome noticed that Paldrey wasn’t eating, and said, offhandedly, “You may eat. It may not look it, but I’ve already started.” With that Paldrey promptly started to eat. Though he was very, very hungry, he tried to curtail his intake so as not to appear rude. Even so, he still managed to eat quite quickly, shoveling forkful after forkful into his gullet.

Jerome had gone back to half-heartedly twirling his food with a fork. He was already bored again. But then he glanced over at Paldrey eating, and was nearly mesmerized. There was something about the way he piled food on the fork for each bite. It wasn’t the delicate portion that he’d been taught, and had seen from everyone who shared his table up till then. Watching him eat was actually interesting!

Once Paldrey was done the one plate, he felt full for the first time in his poor life. He didn’t quite know what to think of that, so he just sat there in silence with a hand on his stomach.

Jerome looked on in silence for a moment, wondering if Paldrey was completely full, or could eat some more. Clearing his throat he smiled and queried, “Dessert?”

                                                                                              *      *      *

“Ah!” Paldrey let out a sigh of contentment as he finished the last pork chop that had been on his plate. Putting the bone down, he leaned back, showing the damage that eating with the Prince three times a day, every day, for the past few weeks had done. His midsection was no longer concave, but instead looked as if he was smuggling a medium-sized ham in his shirt. It stood out, round and firm, not yet slave to the forces of gravity. He’d put on some weight in other areas, but that only made him look normal. One could no longer see his ribs, for instance.

Jerome had been watching him eat with just as much interest as he had that first day. Nothing in his memory had ever held his interest this long, not even close. In the awkward silence that followed Pladrey’s last bite, Jerome tried once again to start a conversation, probably futilely. “Um, so life as a peasant must be tough, huh?”

Paldrey only replied, “Yes, Yer Grace,” and then fell silent. He didn’t know what to say whenever the Prince would try to engage with him. He was deathly afraid of saying the wrong thing and ending up in jail, or worse. So he said the least amount possible in order to answer any questions, and stayed quiet the rest of the time.

Jerome took in the silence following the brief answer to his question. Idiot, he thought, what kind of question is that? No wonder Paldrey doesn’t want to talk with me when I ask ridiculous questions! Not knowing what else to do, Jerome did what he always had at these times – order more food be brought.

Paldrey looked at the full plate of meatballs in gravy and mashed potatoes that replaced his plate of bones. Not wanting to disappoint the Prince, he picked up a fork and dug in. He wasn’t hungry after the chops, but he could make room for this without too much discomfort. The pain wouldn’t come until dessert, because it always did.

As Jerome watched Paldrey eating, the regret he had felt at yet another botched conversation attempt melted away. He was lost in a sort of daze, and the only thing he could think of was that he couldn’t wait for dessert.

                                                                                              *      *      *

With the last spoonful, Paldrey had managed to finish the entire shepherd’s pie put before him. He leaned back and placed a hand on his belly, which had grown to over twice the size it had been only weeks before. He had actually outgrown the shirt and trousers he’d been given to wear, even though that outfit had been far too large for the scrawny frame he had started with. The shirt was actually riding up his round belly, exposing a sliver of skin that he or a servant would occasionally try to cover.

Jerome looked over at his mealtime companion, his belly resting on his thick thighs like a large pumpkin. His butt had gotten wide enough to brush the arms of the chair when he sat down. Trying desperately as usual to think of something they could talk about, Jerome finally said, “Boy, you really like food, don’t you?”

This gave Paldrey pause. He never really considered whether he liked food. At first, he was so hungry he would have eaten anything. Lately, it was more like a job, eating as much as he could because he knew it pleased the Prince. But now that he thought of it, he did actually enjoy what he was eating, and it all was very good. He swallowed and said, “Yes, Yer Grace. The food here’s been very nice.”

Jerome sighed. He didn’t know what to say to Paldrey, and seemed to manage to say the wrong thing every time he tried. Really, they had nothing in common – no frame of reference that overlapped in the slightest. It’s not that he’d gotten bored. Quite the contrary – he loved watching him eat. It’s just that that was all they seemed to have.

Not to be deterred by the awkward silence, Jerome actually arose from his chair and went over to Paldrey. Poking his round belly, he said, “You can genuinely put it away, can’t you? And just look at the result!” He kept poking Paldrey’s gut even after he ran out of something to say.

Paldrey blushed at the remarks, not to mention the poking. His face nearing crimson, he said, simply, “Yes, Yer Grace.”

Jerome realized he was still poking Paldrey, and stopped. Blushing a tiny bit himself, he turned and shuffled back to his chair in silence. Once he was back, he clapped his hands to indicate to the staff that it was time for dessert. Paldrey gulped because he knew the Prince’s mood meant he’d be expected to eat a lot, and he was already so full from the shepherd’s pie, and the few courses before. As a large fruit tart was put in front of him, he sighed as he dug in.

                                                                                              *      *      *

Jerome gaped as he looked over at the platter in front of Paldrey that contained only the bones of what had been a roast boar. He was constantly amazed by the sheer amount of food he could put away. His sight then glided over to the man himself, and he gulped at what he saw.

Paldrey wiped his mouth with a cloth as he leaned back in his chair – a chair that had replaced its predecessor when the creaking noises got to be too great. Even though this one was wider, his butt managed to nearly fill it. On top of his meaty thighs sat a belly that went just past his knees. Its round expanse could not be covered by Paldrey’s current shirt, leaving the bottom third of its circumference exposed. The shirt managed to contain his moobs, now the size of small pumpkins themselves, though there was actually a tiny amount of cleavage showing.

Again, not knowing what would be an acceptable start to a conversation, Jerome cleared his throat and said, “Boy, you are so fat now! I imagine some doors are even a challenge to you now.” Jerome immediately winced at what he’d just said. What made him think that was the right thing to say.

Paldrey blushed rather pronouncedly, and replied meekly, “The doors in the palace are fairly wide, Yer Grace.”

Something made Jerome get up and walk over to Paldrey’s chair. He put both hands on his huge belly and shook it a bit. “Just look at this! You’re fatter than any rich merchant I’ve ever seen!”

Paldrey blushed even more, but was concerned about the shaking to more than just his dignity. “Yer Grace, I’m very full, and the shaking…well…”

Jerome understood, and stopped jiggling the mound of flesh sitting on Paldrey’s lap. He pressed in slightly, and could feel the hardness of his bloated stomach underneath. Without a thought he started to gently rub it to try and relieve some of the pressure. “Is that better?” he asked.

Paldrey couldn’t help but let a moan escape his lips. “Yes, Yer Grace.” He moaned again without even thinking.

Now it was Jerome’s turn to blush. He stopped what he was doing and took his hands off Paldrey’s expansive gut. Returning to his chair, he regained his composure, and said, “Well, I believe there is room for some dessert in there.”

                                                                                              *      *      *

As Paldrey polished off the third of the roast geese, Jerome mused at how rare it must be to need to use the plural of ‘goose’ when they were in roasted form, let alone when they all had been arrayed in front of one man.

And what a man Paldrey now was. His current chair was easily three times as wide as the one he’d first sat upon, yet his huge ass cheeks pressed into the armrests. He wiped the mouth on his round face as well as the large wattle that hung under his chin. His breasts could be compared to some larger melons, if they didn’t sag so much and droop heavily on his belly. By far housing the most of the fat accumulation, his gut was a magnificent round expanse that hung over his knees and the front of the chair to reach halfway down his thick lower legs. Even though he’d been provided with larger and larger shirts, the one he wore now had ridden up to just below his voluminous moobs, leaving nearly his entire midsection exposed.

As Jerome looked upon the voluminous man he’d effectively created, he let out a sigh. He couldn’t say that he was bored, per se, because he still was enchanted by watching Paldrey eat, as well as seeing him get bigger. But even ambrosia would start to age in one’s eyes after a time, especially if one had it three times a day every day for as long as they’d had meals together.

Struggling for something to say that would just end in awkward silence, Jerome wracked his brain for a topic of conversation. His eyes drifted to the goose carcasses that were being cleared away, and realized he’d never tried something before. Clearing his throat, he said, “Those birds looked heavily spiced. I hope you didn’t find it overwhelming.”

After a moment, Paldrey spoke up. “No, Yer Grace. I found it went with the meat quite well. And it made the skin just crispy enough. They was actually three of the best roast fowls I’ve had since I’ve been here.” After another pause, he added, “If it please Yer Grace.”

Jerome just looked at Paldrey with his mouth wide open. This was actually the most he’d ever spoken at this table in Jerome’s recollection. Could it be he’d stumbled on to a topic they could actually talk about? There was only one way to find out. He reached over to the roast goose that had lain untouched off to his right. Tearing a leg off, he steeled himself and took a bite. “Ah, I see what you mean. The skin is just crispy enough to provide variety in texture, but not so much as to be an obstacle. And the taste! What is that woody sort of taste I’m getting?” He signaled a servant to slice off some more duck.

They happily talked about the duck until Jerome had had his fill off the leg and two slices. Once the conversation lulled, Jerome said, “Here, Paldrey, tell me what you think of this pastries they’re bringing out.” He then grabbed one and took a bite so he’d be ready to discuss the matter.

                                                                                              *      *      *

“Jerome, have you tried the eggs yet? I think I can taste three or four different cheeses in there!” Paldrey shoveled more scrambled eggs into his gullet and chewed. “Definitely four.”

Even though the chair made of think oaken beams was just as high as all his chairs had been, Paldrey’s belly now rested on the floor as he sat. It also swept to the sides to hang over the armrests of the chair, while his enormous butt cheeks forced their way underneath them. His moobs had each grown to the size of a rather fat merchant’s belly, and hung heavily down on the seemingly endless shelf that was his gut.

Jerome took another bite of the eggs, nodded and said, “No, I actually count five. Did you miss the camembert?” As he took another bite, he rested his free hand on his own belly, which sat proudly on nearly three quarters of his thicker thighs.

Paldrey took another massive bite. “Hmm, yes I did! That sneaky camembert is very delicate.”

They both laughed as they waited for the next course, and the next topic of conversation.

Prince Jerome went on to become a great ruler (in more than one sense). Even when matters of state pressed him, as they sometimes do, he always made time to have his meals with Paldrey, who grew to be Jerome’s greatest friend and advisor (in all senses). Thanks to these two friends, the kingdom became prosperous and its people happy for many years to come.