The almond and honey tart she reached for was intimidating, but the glistening sugar on top of the sliced almonds was enticing. She took her time to appreciate the rich flavors and rested her hand on her stomach. Her queendom was an isolated place with customs unlike those in the surrounding regions. She didn't believe that most monarchs sat around to be fed at all hours. If not for her poise and care, she surely would have been a repugnant sight, but here her swollen belly was as noble as her crown. Her dedication to her people was visible in every inch their offerings stretched her middle. What she couldn’t finish would be taken by the staff of the castle and shared among them, but Estinne strove to finish as much as she could. Her appetite, like her title, was a greatness owned only by her.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t without her limits. She had to breathe more slowly as she made her way through the tart, ignoring the cautionary ache of her stomach. She would be measured after the meal, as she had been when she’d first woken up, to measure her progress and judge how close she was to start carrying her heirs. Estinne could only guess how many inches around she was now. Her eating gowns were loose and didn’t provide any indication as to how much her stomach had grown in the duration of her meal. Estinne was alerted instead by the slight itch of her skin as it was stretched taut. Her belly brushed against the edge of the table when she shifted to take another plate. It pressed harder against the polished wood with each breath she took. Her quiet goal was often to eat until she was consistently touching the table. One day soon she may find herself stuck into the spot.

Estinne brought several plates closer to herself and sighed as she considered which to start on first. The bowl of custard looked easy enough. She finished the bowl in what felt like just a few spoonfuls, fast enough that the synchronized rotation of servants hadn’t yet taken the empty bowl when she started on a small pile of pastries. Her bites were quicker, but Estinne didn’t mind sacrificing refinement for efficiency. She was set on stuffing herself further - as much as she could before her mind realized how overtaxed her belly was. By the time she finished the pastries, the custard bowl had been replaced with soaked oats and berries. The queen took that too and finished the bowl before picking a small, crystal syrup container to drown a stack of pancakes. They were thick, and fluffy, and certain to be a challenge, but she cut the stacks up and pushed them past her lips with a mindless efficiency, only pausing to sip at her cup of milk between bites. She drained the milk once her pancakes were done and waited for a server to move a bowl of thick, whipped cream and edible flowers within her reach. Estinne’s eyes scanned over the colors of the flowers as she absently massaged her belly, pressing her fingers to her firm stomach and sighing as she felt felt herself stretch with each breath. She panted between spoonfuls of the cream, hopelessly engorged but unable to stop, her eyes fastened on one final plate.

The last thing she managed was a plate of waffles she’d slathered with a thick nut butter that melted into the crannies before she drowned it with honey and, after a brief pause to consider the sticky mess, the syrup from her pancakes. Midway through the stack Estinne started becoming aware of the sharp, intense pain in the side of her stomach. The front of her belly felt pinched, trapped against the table when she leaned forward to stab her fork through the very last piece of waffle. She moaned quietly as she ate it and drew her tongue over the tongs of the fork before placing it and her knife across the plate in an ‘x’ to signal the completion of her meal.

Rising from her chair was difficult but she took her time to do so without assistance. She sighed with the motion and stood still for a moment with one hand resting on the back of the chair and the other following the curve of her belly. She looked upon the staff as they started to take the plates away and stopped them with a mild hum before taking a few labored steps towards the table. Estinne pressed her palm against the wooden tabletop and huffed a pained, whining breath as she reached for the bowl of fruit and grabbed herself an apple. She took a large bite of it and closed her eyes as she swallowed, the steady pain of overconsumption flaring at the additional treat. Estinne stood by the table as she ate the apple, moaning against the sweet flesh of the fruit until only the core remained, and picked a tangerine for herself to have later.

She tucked a hand beneath her taxed abdomen as she straightened and sighed out again, struggling to regain her poise against the heavy weight of her swollen stomach. Every day she ate a little more and every day it was difficult to walk away from the table, especially when she knew she’d be encouraged to return in only a few hour’s time. She was only meant to eat and swell until a pregnancy led her to eat and swell more. Estinne felt close to popping, the pressure so intense she was certain now that her navel might press forward to form a button or her skin might tear. Whether it was a reality or not, the young queen couldn’t say, but fulfilling her duty with as much commitment as she did surely made that a risk. It was one she had to manage just like her mother and grandmother and great-grandmother before her, a queen chosen by her people to sustain her people.

Estinne met her attendants in her chambers. She walked to her bedroom and set her tangerine on her dresser and paused before the full-length mirror to observe her reflection, startled at first, as she always was, by the corpulent mass of her stomach, packed full with too much food. Before she never carried her weight in her middle, not unless it was bloated by a recent meal. Usually her stomach, though soft, was reasonably flat. It was her hips, wide and shapely that carried the weight, along with a round, voluptuous derriere and deliciously thick thighs that gave her an exaggerated lower half. Slowly but surely her shape was changing, from rubenesque to an apple-wed pear encouraged by her voracious appetite. She ate so often now that her stomach was always distended, full to a degree that only emphasized her well endowed features and over time, made them even more plush.

“Your Majesty?”

“Go ahead,” Estinne sighed as she brushed her hand against her collar and frowned to feel the sticky drops of honey that had dripped onto her during her meal. A few drops had managed to fall on her breasts and belly as well, causing the sheer material of her gown to stick to her skin. She stuck her finger in her mouth and turned to follow an attendant’s direction, her face flushing when she noted one of the guards patrolling the hall had stopped to watch her. Estinne furrowed her brows at the scrutiny of his observation, unnerved by the fact that he’d even deviated from his assigned task, for however short a while. “Come inside, why don’t you?”

“Your Majesty?”

Estinne took a few shallow breaths, overwhelmed by her burdensome stomach and the pressure on her middle as her attendants pressed against the firm mass and encircled her with ribbons and measuring tape. Her skin was stretched, sensitive, and warm, but the heat she felt in her face was the guard’s doing entirely. “If you plan on staring then you should at least get a proper view,” Estinne managed, her cheeky tone more of a strained gasp. The guard glanced down then back up again, his smirk carefully obscured though she caught the slightest trace of it on his lips. “I haven’t spoken to you before.”

“No, Your Majesty, you haven’t.”

“That should change.” She turned her head to look back towards the mirror and study her backside, determining its growth not to be the worst of things. It rounded out beautifully, almost balancing the sore expansion of her belly before her. She had always believed her bottom and her legs to have been her best features, but with the mass protruding from her middle, they were nearly capable of being overlooked now.

“Well done, Your Majesty,” the guard praised her as her attendant pinched the roll of fat on her side to measure measure. Estinne rolled her eyes upwards, self conscious enough that she could forego her decorum.

“You are growing above our projections,” an attendant informed her. “You managed to reach thirty-six inches around, from twenty-nine when you first woke.”

“So I grew a seven inches? That’s possible?” She blinked in disbelief, though the throbbing pain of the food packed into her abdomen was evidence enough of her feat. 

“For a queen? Certainly.”

“Ah... Thank you.” She watched them as they put away their measuring devices and notebooks before stepping back towards the mirror. She rubbed her hands over her belly and arched her back, trying to consider it even larger and heavier, swollen with her developing young and the food she’d need to nourish them.  She smiled to herself as she caressed the overstuffed swell she was becoming and tried to imagine her children, what it would feel like to carry them, to experience them moving inside of her and how she'd have to arch her back when she walked and eventually, when she was big enough that it was too taxing, how she'd only care to lay in bed and eat. And after that, she’d be rewarded with meeting them and raising them to be great future queens.

“Are you still here, guard?” Estinne turned around and hummed thoughtfully at his small smile. He had sharp, dark eyes and broad shoulders. She was a tall woman, often taller than most in the castle, but he stood a few inches higher than her. He was fit with a toned appearance that contrasted greatly with her own plushness. He was curious, which was more than anyone else around her was. He was prime stock. “Tell me honestly, what do you think of me now, like this?” She turned slightly to watch him as he paced around her and paused at her dresser to take the citrus she’d left there. He peeled it slowly, leaving the fragrant skin in a pile as he carefully pulled apart the fruit.

“I think you are beautiful, Your Majesty.” He reached out to touch her belly and she didn't stop him, shuddering at the heat of his palm. He brushed his hand against the honey on the top her belly, smirking outright at the minor mess. “Eager and dedicated. It’s admirable.” She sighed when he shifted his hand higher and pressed his knuckle against the honey on her breast. He lifted his eyes from her chest to stare into her face as he sucked the sticky sweetness from his finger. “I also think you're due to be larger.”

“And would you be interested in helping me with such an endeavor?”