Little King (2)

‘Why is he so small, mother?’ asked the small blonde boy, peering down at the crawling figure on the stool. His glistening curls hung around his ears as he peered at the creature he had been told was his little brother. Living exclusively in the castle, he hadn’t really seen any other tiny people, and assumed that the spec of a toddler was unique in his puny stature. 

‘Because he is a mongrel, pet,’ Elenor replied, reclining on a chair as she stitched.

‘What is a mongrel, mother,’ Etienne asked, still staring at the 4-year-old. 

‘It means he’s less than we are, darling,’ his mother replied.

‘Because he’s smaller than us?’ he asked.

‘Exactly.’

The young prince continued to watch the tiny boy crawling around on the cushioned stool. It seemed fascinated with the stitched sequins on the plush cushion. Etienne was amazed by his tiny fingers that toyed with the fabric that must have been huge for him. He wondered what the world must have been like for him. A knock at the door to the chamber snapped him out of his daydream.

‘Enter,’ Elenor said, without looking up from her work, and through the doorway entered a woman, dressed in a light brown gown.

‘Oh, good morning young prince,’ she curtsied at Etienne, her wide body filling the frame. 

‘Oh, come sit down, Mariotte,’ Elenor beckoned her sister, still focused on her work. The larger woman smiled and stepped towards the queen. 

‘Etienne, go play outside, darling,’ his mother said. The boy nodded and started to talk out, passing Mariotte. The 6-year-old boy never ceased to be amazed by his aunt’s size, and was reminded of this by the sight of her huge rear, pushing up beneath the skirt at around the height of his head. He paused for an instant to let her pass and could have sworn that her thighs were wider than his whole body. 

She left his side, joining the queen. She bent over to pick up an incomplete banner and a ball of yarn. Etienne’s eyes widened as he watched her ass seem to expand into a massive wall. She straightened up and the young boy immediately turned away, his cheeks reddening, but a quick glance in the huge woman’s direction reassured him that she hadn’t noticed him staring. 

‘You should have told me you were here, I’ve been searching for you all afternoon,’ Mariotte complained.

‘I don’t have to do anything, sister, so shut up and sit down,’ Elenor said cooly, ending the conversation. The larger, blonde woman huffed but the queen didn’t acknowledge it. Mariotte stepped back and made to sit on the spare stool. Etienne gasped in silence, but wasn’t quick enough to stop it. 

On the cushion, the 1-inch long toddler gazed up at the colossal figure standing over him. Her brown skirt cascaded like a waterfall from the top of her humungous rear. The two mountainous orbs were wide enough to fill his entire line of sight and they hung over the chair ominously. He was too young to comprehend what was happening as the huge figure started to bend and descend on the cushion. 

As the prince watched in abject horror, his aunt’s enormous butt dropped onto the cushion, and his tiny brother vanished beneath it with a thump. The gelatinous booty squished the cushion and spread out over the under-sized circle. The prince cringed as the giantess wiggled her titanic form on the little stool, smothering the puny child beneath her. 

Etienne finally sprang into action, gliding to his mother’s side and tugging on her sleeve. The queen frowned, still not taking her eyes off of her stitching, ‘What is it, pet?’

‘Mother …’ he said, silently pointing at his aunt. 

The queen looked up annoyedly and glanced over at Mariotte, following her son’s gaze. She noticed that he wasn’t pointing at the other woman, but more at the stool, and then it clicked. 

‘Oh, don’t worry about that, pet, go play with your friends,’ Elenor sang. 

‘What's the matter?’ Mariotte asked, staring down at the fabric i her hands. 

‘Nothing, dear, he’s just on his way out,’ Elenor smiled, as the young prince walked out, an uncomfortable feeling in his tummy over the situation, but not wanting to go against his mother’s wishes. The queen, meanwhile, smirked, thinking of the little pest that was currently under her fat sister’s ass. 

The tiny boy was in hell, his entire body compressed by the giantess’s voluminous butt. His arms were pinned to the cushion as the relentless, crushing weight engulfed him. He screamed in the darkness under her rear, but his pathetic little voice was muffled by the fatty mounds. He gasped, but all he could breathe was the stale air under the giantess. The young boy trashed around, panicking as he found himself unable to breathe.

‘So, he’s growing up quickly,’ Mariotte said. 

‘Yes, Etienne will make a strong king one day,’ Elenor remarked, glancing subtly at her sister’s sizeable rear, imagining how scared the little bug must have been. She was still smiling as she returned her focus to her stitching, enjoying the normally tedious time spent with her sister. Who knew that her chubby figure would finally be of some use. 

Mariotte had always tried to gain pity for her body, but Elenor knew better than to give it to her. So what if Elenor had a nicer figure? And if she didn’t want to feel insecure, she shouldn’t compare herself to the queen. Despite Mariotte’s girth, she was always jealous of Elenor’s larger breasts and rounded, firm butt. She had always despised the queen’s attitude, but had always held her tongue, what with the bitch being the king’s favourite from the moment she had set foot in Evenguard. 

The heavy-set blonde pushed down the hatred she had for her sister as she focused on a new problem. The pudding with diner had been far too rich for her, and her stomach grumbled angrily. She prayed that her sister didn’t hear it, as Elenor would no doubt have mocked her for it. Fortunately the queen didn’t notice, but someone else did. 

The tiny boy beneath the giantess both felt and heard the rumbling from far above. He was too frightened to think what it could mean, as he struggled helplessly in his tomb. He was not prepared for what came next. The rumbling grew louder and louder and then all of a sudden, feel felt the meaty cheeks forced apart. 

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

The jet of hot air blasted through the giantess’s squeezed butt crack, the bubbles of vile gas rolling between the moist ass cheeks before exploding on her dress, directly over the trapped boy. Despite the nausea-inducing reek, the child found himself gasping in the disgusting fumes as it was the only thing he had to breathe. The warm stream of tainted air washed over him and remained trapped, hanging over him like a thick smog. The gas was sealed in by her fatty rump, and the pitiful boy was forced to breathe it as he remained an unaware prisoner of the overweight giantess. 

Mariotte blushed as she glanced up from her stitching to see Elenor staring at her. The queen giggled cruelty as her sister got redder and redder. 

‘Pardon me,’ Mariotte mumbled, her cheeks hot with shame. She hated the her sister was laughing at her for a normal, bodily function. She had no idea that the queen wasn’t even laughing at her. No, Elenor was amused by the knowledge that her husbands bastard was being gassed by her cow of a sister, and she didn’t even know she was doing it. She thought about how great of an idea it had been to spare the little brat’s life. He would regret ever being born of a whore, and somewhere, his dead mother’s soul would regret ever meddling in Elenor’s life.