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(This story contains male WG, and liberal use of the F-bomb.)
It was a great day for Wat, Emperor of Seven Kingdoms. As he stood on the crest of a hill in a triumphant pose, he saw the flag of surrender rise above the ramparts. “Conquered yet another stupid fucking kingdom!” he declared, as his generals winced once again at his vulgarity. “This is too easy!”

Indeed, for Wat, conquering surely seemed to be second nature to him. He had a knack for tactical thinking that far exceeded any of his ancestors. For generations the Evarian dynasty held merely its own relatively small kingdom. However, when his father died, Wat was too young and brash to be satisfied with that, and, despite the advice of his council, he managed to invade and hold a neighboring kingdom. But that wasn’t enough for him, no. Through force of arms and superior tactics, in only a few years Wat took over kingdom after kingdom, until he ruled over six besides the one he’d inherited.

The highest ranking general approached Wat to speak to him. “Congratulations, Your Excellency. Now that you have this kingdom won, perhaps it is time to consolidate and think upon how such a vast Empire will be run. Might I suggest the first order of business should be an assessment of the food production in each separate kingdom…”

“Boring! That sounds fucking boring, Marcus! Besides, I don’t have time for all of that, not when there are more fucking kingdoms to get. I’ve got to keep expanding!”

The general took the berating in stride, as always. A man of great patience, discipline and willpower, Marcus simply said, “I think it prudent to at least wait until the official surrender in a day or two before selecting your next target.”

“Oh, fuck yeah, that’s the best part! That and the parade. I love a good parade, as long as I’m in it!” Wat smiled broadly as he thought about how he would get to rub another stupid king’s face in it.

                                                                                              *      *      *

The parade went about as expected, with Wat leading his troops through the streets. While they executed perfect military discipline, he was laughing on his horse, flipping the crowd obscene gestures as often as waving. Not even the people’s stunned silence could dampen his mood as they came to the central keep.

“You call this a fucking palace? What a dump!”

Marcus reined up and said, “No one called it a palace, Your Excellency. Perhaps this kingdom’s ruler feels he doesn’t need anything more ostentatious.”

“Bullshit! They probably just can’t afford one! Anyway, let’s get this fucking surrender going!” He dismounted and, straightening his resplendent blue ‘conquering coat’, entered the keep.

Some young, thin men in livery led Wat and his generals to a large room. There was a table piled high with all manner of delicious-looking food. At the head of the table stood an elderly man wearing a simple crown, surrounded by nobles and generals, all of whom were fit and muscular or thin as a rail. As Wat came up to him, the old king Darius kneeled, took off his crown, and said, “Great Conqueror, I ask that you accept the surrender of me and my people.” He held up the crown to Wat.

Wat grabbed the crown from the old man and said, “Fuck yeah!” He tossed it over his shoulder without looking. On cue, one of his generals caught it and respectfully put it in a satchel.

Despite the gasps from the crowd, Darius rose to his feet, smiled and said, “Now, would Your Excellency care to partake in a victory feast?” He gestured toward the table.

Marcus stepped forward and said, “Pardon, Former Majesty, but we had your town under siege. Why did you surrender if you had so many supplies left?”

Darius smiled and said, “My advisors and I simply foresaw the inevitability of your victory. There was no point in letting our own people starve before it came to pass. Now, please, there are seats for all of you.”

Wasting no time, Wat sat at the very head of the table. His generals followed suit, sitting on either side down the length of it. Marcus reluctantly took a seat to Wat’s right. He looked at the former king and his entourage and asked, “Won’t you be joining us?”

“No, this is for you! Besides, we had already had lunch.”

Not wasting any time, Wat dug into the plate prepared for him. Having had mostly trail rations for months, he welcomed the change in food to eat. And everything was so delicious too! As he tore off another piece of bread to dip into the gravy, he said, “This food is fucking great!”

Every one of his officers ate their fill of the wonderful food, with the exception of Marcus, who ate a moderate amount before stopping.

Darius looked on the sight of this gluttony, with the exception of the one, and smiled.

                                                                                               *     *     *

Wat stood in front of the full-length mirror in the royal bedchamber he’d taken over from Darius. He was amazed at how much weight he’d put on in just three months. His belly had swelled out both to the front and to the sides, hanging over his breeches which barely held his wider ass. His lean chest had softened into small breasts that started to rest on his gut.

He struggled to finish dressing, barely managing to get his shirt and waistcoat buttoned, and even then there were huge gaps between the buttons, and a wide strip of his belly was sticking out the bottom. Pulling down on waistcoat in an ineffectual attempt to cover more, he said, “The food here’s way too good…” before striding out of the room to meet his generals for breakfast. He knew he’d have to put a stop to all this eating if he were ever going to fit into his conquering coat again.

When he saw the table, all thoughts of his weight or limiting his intake were cast aside. He strode to his chair at the head, his belly jiggling with each step. He plopped down in the chair, causing it to creak loudly. Once he was settled, he started in on the plate before him, piled high with pancakes and sausages as it was.

While he was finishing his second plate, he noticed Marcus standing there. While his other generals had gotten just as fat as Wat from indulging in a fabulous feast every day, Marcus managed to stayas fit as he’d been the day they conquered this kingdom. It always made Wat a little jealous, though he never followed up on those feelings with diet or exercise. “What the fuck is it, Marcus?”

“Your Excellency, we really need to consider leaving for home. A garrison can keep order here as we decide how to redistribute this wealth of food to the other kingdoms. Frankly I’m worried about the state of fitness among the men…”

“You know, I don’t even hear fucking words come out of you anymore. It’s all ‘Blah blah, boring boring, blah!’ But maybe we should move out soon…”

Darius interceded. “Your Excellency, you would then miss our holiday feast! It is in a few scant weeks, and we were going to make you Guest of Honor!”

Wat smiled as he started on his third plate of breakfast. “Guest of Honor, huh? You hear that, Marcus? The people here fucking love me! We have to stay for the festival, at least.”

Marcus frowned as he stepped away. “As you wish, Your Excellency.”

                                                                                               *     *     *

So they stayed for the holiday feast that Darius had mentioned, and it was even more copious and lavish than the one they’d had for Wat on the day of the surrender. The next day Wat was again talking of going, and Darius brought up another festival, even grander than the one they’d just had, and of course Wat would have the same honor. This of course fed his ego as much as his body had just been fed at the feast, so he agreed to stay.

And so it went for three months. Every few weeks there would be a new festival that Darius would dangle in front of Wat, saying it was even bigger than the last. And every time Wat would decide to stay.

The day after the fourth such festival, Wat stood in front of the full-length mirror, trying again to fit into what remained of his clothing. His breeches were straining to the limit, not to mention cutting into him uncomfortably. He was struggling to button the last button on his shirt, even though there were already huge gaps between them The whole shirt didn’t cover half of his huge belly, which hung down to fully conceal his breeches past the crotch. His waist coat was now a lost cause, and hung in the closet next to his blue conquering coat.

He managed to fasten the shirt’s bottom button, but that only lasted a second before it popped off and struck the mirror soundly, causing a small crack to appear in it. When he saw that all he could say was, “Ah!”

Bad luck notwithstanding, Wat waddled his fat body out to the dining table, again piled high with breakfast. Out of habit he sat down and started shoveling food down his gullet. His belly was making it harder to reach things, so the people had constructed an extension that sat higher over his curves.

As he was starting his fourth plate, he saw Marcus, his lean form waiting at his side. “Yes, Marcus, say what you’ve got to fucking say!”

Marcus cleared his throat. “Well, I think you know what I’m about to say, Your Excellency. The state of fitness of eighty percent of the troops is appalling. I have received word that dissent is fomenting in some of the kingdoms, as you have not managed them since conquering them. We should go home to take care of these matters…”

Wat interrupted with a mouth full of pancakes, “Wow, did you go to school to learn how to be so fucking boring? Because you should put that degree on a fucking wall! But maybe it is time…”

Darius piped in, “Your Excellency, you would then miss out on our greatest festival of the year! It really does put these others to shame. It actually has a position of the greatest honor, making those other worthy accolades pale in comparison! You would be the most beloved man in the entire kingdom!”

“Fucking hell, that’s what I’m talking about! When is it?”

“A mere six months away.”

Wat thought for a second. “Yeah, we can wait around for that long, can’t we Marcus?”

With a sigh, Marcus replied, “As you wish, Your Excellency.”

                                                                                               *     *     *

The months went by, with Wat and all but one of his generals consuming more and more at mealtimes. Sometimes his arms even got tired and some skinny serving girls and boys took over feeding him. Some days he was just finishing breakfast as lunch was being wheeled in. And every time Marcus brought up the need to leave, Darius was right there in his ear, telling him of the fabulous festival to come.

The morning of the festival, Wat was examining himself in the bedroom mirror. He was positively huge! Nothing fit anymore – the breeches finally gave up the ghost months ago. But the fact that he was naked wasn’t readily apparent from the front, since his huge round belly hung down to touch his knees. His cantaloupe-sized moobs rested heavily on the shelf of his haystack-sized gut. From the back, his flour sack-sized ass cheeks made it clear he was completely uncovered.

Walking around was an immense exertion, and getting up from bed or even a chair was close to impossible without help. But he started to slow deliberate plodding toward the door. As he got near it opened to reveal Darius, thin as usual. He bowed and said, “Your Excellency, today is the big day! The day of the grandest festival you have ever set eyes on!”

Wat sneered. “Well, fucking forget it! There’s no clothes that fit.”

Darius smiled broadly. “Well, at least you can have breakfast while we figure out what to do about your wardrobe.” Wat nodded, since it had become customary for he and his generals to eat in the private royal dining room without any clothing, since no genitalia showed on any of them. The only exception of course was Marcus, who still wore the clothes he’d come with a year ago.

Once Wat’s waddling trudge to the table was done, he saw that there wasn’t a chair at his end. Instead, there was a large sturdy bench on top of a small platform. Thinking he must have simply outgrown another chair, he tried the short step up to the platform – and found he couldn’t make it without the help of a half dozen strong young men and women. He sat down on the bench and commenced to pigging himself out on the morning repast.

Wat kept eating everything that was put in front of him, and didn’t even notice that Marcus hadn’t bothered him even once. The young emperor simply continued until he was so full he couldn’t even swallow what he had in his mouth. At that point some pages stepped in and helped him chew, while giving him even more to eat, which he was physically incapable of refusing.

When he was stuffed beyond reasoning, Wat found that he couldn’t move. His belly covered him completely and even rested on the platform as he sat. In his daze he barely registered the platform rolling on the wheels underneath it. He managed to ask, “Where are we going?”

Darius kept his obsequious smile. “Your Excellency, the Festival will start soon! You must greet your subjects.”

“But…clothes…” was all Wat was able to form.

“Oh, yes, of course!” Darius waved, and a page brought the blue conquering coat out from the bedchamber. Darius himself placed it on Wat’s shoulders, buttoning the fourth button around his neck. Once he stepped down from the platform, the strong pages began to wheel it out the door and up onto a horse-drawn wagon.

Once Wat was clear of the room, Darius turned to Marcus, who was holding his old crown. “Do we have an agreement, Sovereign- General?”

Marcus nodded as he extended the crown toward Darius. “Yes, Your Majesty. I will go back to Evaria, taking only those men in my army that I deem fit enough to travel. Your kingdom is returned to you, as will be the other five. I will ascend to the throne of my kingdom as Wat is clearly unable to continue as monarch.”

“Very well!” Darius put the crown on his own head and extended his hand.

Marcus took it, their deal so finalized. “Uh, if I may ask, what are your plans for Wat? My conscience would not rest should he come to harm.”

Darius smiled as he turned with Marcus toward the cart that was being pulled away. “Oh, no, nothing of the sort! We will take good care of him, feeding him to his heart’s content. And every year my people will get a chance to see the ‘conqueror that almost was.’”

Marcus was relieved. “That is good. Well, he did once tell me that he had to keep expanding, and the thing he loves most is a parade, as long as he is in it!”