A Line of Soft Princes - Ch. 2 - Promise

For the next month, it was as if a bomb had gone off in the Burrock household. Linden and Emmett were both deeply aggrieved. They spent their days moping in their rooms and occasionally waddling around the house to harass the rest of the family with their sulking.

Bartem avoided home at all costs. He spent his time in the village, rutting in haylofts and orchard rows with peasant boys like his days were numbered. (And weren’t they, after all?) When he was home, his father would hardly let him alone. The advice about how to properly please a woman seemed to be endless, and involved things like being fitted for an entirely new wardrobe that emphasized his new future status as the jewel of the princess’ household, how to eat seductively (whatever that meant), and various rules and adages about what women really wanted out of a husband. He even had to take lessons in current court behavior and fashion, which had his brothers fuming with jealousy. He had no idea what they were jealous over. It was all insufferably boring, and made worse by the fact that he had to waste his last few weeks of freedom on it all.

One afternoon, after he’d extricated himself from yet another fitting for yet more clothes he hated, he found himself sitting under one of his favorite trees with Astor, an old playmate from the village who had eventually become… well, a very different sort of playmate.

“So, you’re off to the palace next week. Wonder how long it’ll take them to properly fatten you up,” the village boy teased.

Bartem snorted. “Gods help me, I hope it takes a while.” He fondled the other young man’s plump hips, trying to lose himself in someone else’s softness.

“Doubt it. That princess’ll figure out your weakness and you’ll swell up in no time.” Astor licked his lips. “I wish I could be there to see it.”

“Really?” Bartem pulled his beau into his lap, loving the feeling of soft thighs straddling him. “I thought you liked that I kept trim. Well. Trim for a noble.”

“I do.” Astor leaned in for a kiss, his pudgy stomach pressing into Bartem’s. “But that doesn’t mean I’ve never been curious what you’d look like if you rounded out.” His hips wiggled a bit and Bartem stifled a groan. “You’re already the picture of a handsome, cosseted nobleman, but I can imagine you with a fat pair of tits and a belly bigger than Linden’s and it’s… well.” Bartem could feel exactly how Artem felt about that.

He laughed. “When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound so bad.” He grabbed handfuls of Astor’s backside, and Astor responded in kind by gently grinding his hips against Bartem’s. “But I’d much rather get to see you properly softened up.” He shifted until Astor was below him, looking flushed, double chin peeking out deliciously. Bartem traced the little roll of flesh with his thumb. “Would that you were the noble. You’re so greedy I know you’d’ve been thrice your current size by now.” Bartem began to work Astor’s pants off. He cupped one of the young man’s thighs, wondering if they were a touch softer than they had been the last time he’d felt them. “I can imagine you sprawled out on a massive bed, feasting on all fours, and getting behind you…”

Words failed him as he entered Astor. He thought about fucking an Astor who never stopped growing, whose hips continued to spread wider, whose thighs were forced further and further apart with each meal, whose ass swelled more with every bite. He thrust deeper, and Astor moaned in response, hands gripping the blanket that lay beneath them. His belly bounced with each stroke. Bartem grabbed it hungrily. “If I had my way, I’d feed you until we had to roll you everywhere.”

“Promise?” Astor said breathlessly.

Bartem thrust even more rapidly. “Fuck yes.”