Kinktober Day 28: Belly Rubs

Clearly my brain is percolating some ideas for the next Line of Soft Princes installment. 

***

Their nightly routine had begun simply enough. The young lordling had complained one night as he undressed for bed that he was feeling a little full after dinner, and his servant had tentatively offered relief.

“Have you a tincture for me? I don’t know if I’ll even be able to swallow it.”

“No, not a tincture. Just the use of my hands.”

The young lord was obviously skeptical, but agreed. “So long as it makes this ache go away, you may do as you please.”

The servant had been quite innocent in his intentions. He had only wanted to make his master more comfortable, truly! But as soon as the young man was down to his smallclothes and sat on the edge of the bed as the servant instructed, the servant felt something… odd.

He had seen his master unclothed before, and even nude. It was part of the job. But something about his master’s belly, a little swollen and puffing out over his breeches—well, suddenly the whole thing seemed much more intimate than it ever had.

The servant had kneeled on the floor, grateful for the plush rugs that covered the hard stone. He had reached out his hands and begun to massage the young noble’s meal-swollen middle. His master had given a little exclamation, a surprised but quiet, “Oh!” as the servant began his work.

“Should I stop, my lord?” he asked, pulling his hands back. His master was kind, but every servant knew such kindness could be easily revoked.

The young man cleared his throat. “Certainly not. You may continue.”

And so he had continued. His master had belched loudly, then sighed with relief. It all lasted about ten minutes, though they felt quite long. The servant pressed a few additional belches from his master’s stomach, and he was glad he had already put most of the candles in the room out—each burp made his face burn, and he knew he was blushing all the way to the tips of his ears.

It had ended with the young lord saying a simple, “Thank you, Meryton. That will be all for tonight.” The servant had gotten to his feet and bid his master good night.

As Meryton drifted off in his own small bed in the servants’ quarters, he couldn’t quite believe it was real. He could still feel warm, yielding flesh beneath his fingertips as he balled his hands into fists against his chest. He did not have words for how he felt.

His master seemed to forget the whole thing. Meryton was almost glad of it and tried to put it out of his mind.

No sooner had he convinced itself it would never occur again (and thank god for that!) than the young lord returned from dinner one evening looking more stuffed than Meryton had ever seen him. Strange, too, for his master did not have a natural tendency to overeat. The previous occasion had been an obvious anomaly. At least, that was what Meryton had believed.

That second time, though, his master seemed impatient to get his clothes off. They were a bit tight, but not tight enough to explain his impatience. As Meryton helped strip layers off of him, the young lord made a request. “I believe I overate again this evening. Would you mind providing the same assistance you did last time?” Meryton agreed. A fluttery feeling spread through him.

They got into the same position they had the last time: Meryton kneeling on the floor while his master sat on the edge of the bed nearly nude. The massage lasted quite a lot longer than ten minutes this time. The lordling had well and truly stuffed himself, belly swollen and a little red at its apex. The servant worked diligently, saying nothing, even as the young lord let out loud sighs of pleasure.

When his master requested that Meryton stop, Meryton had to disguise how much trouble he had standing. His legs felt like jelly, and he was having trouble tearing his eyes away from the belly he had spent so much time with that evening. This time, his master thanked him before bidding him good night.

Once again, Meryton was sure this would be the last of it. The lord was not a greedy man, and was more than a little vain about his looks. He could not imagine this would ever occur again and resolved to cherish it, running over the memories in his mind again and again. He still could not explain his feelings or why both times his master had requested this special kind of help had felt so thrilling.

Then it happened a third time, just a couple weeks later. Then a fourth not long after that. Soon, his master fell into a regular cadence, bloating himself on fine food at the end of each week and commanding his servant to care for him afterward. Meryton was happy to oblige. Even when the master began to insist that he wanted to lie down while Meryton massaged his aching belly, requiring the servant to climb into bed beside him, he did not complain.

His master began to grow round in a more permanent way. Vain as he was, he did not seem to mind. He only requested that he be fitted for some larger clothes, which Meryton was happy to assist with. The servant also found that he liked the way his master looked now more than he had before. The young man had been blessed with good looks, but the added weight suited him. A soft belly and the beginnings of a soft chest spoke well of the young lord’s management of his lands and people, surely.

As his master grew larger, his requests of his servant became more bold. One evening, he surprised Meryton by requesting that his servant straddle his waist to rub his belly rather than sitting beside him on the bed as he worked. The next week, he asked that Meryton use perfumed oils. They both luxuriated in the feeling of Meryton’s hands sliding smoothly across the lord’s belly, which had become rather fat and wonderfully soft.

A few weeks after that, he asked that Meryton massage his entire torso rather than just his belly. He gave low, throaty moans when Meryton squeezed at the soft breasts he had grown. The servant had been sure he would melt right into the mattress upon hearing those sounds, but he did not.

One evening, after a particularly large feeding, the fat lordling turned the tables on his loyal servant. He stood close to him, his belly brushing against the front of Meryton’s uniform, his round face only a few inches away. “I would like to have you massage my belly from below this evening.” The servant didn’t know how to respond. A look of hurt seemed to cross the young lord’s eyes at his hesitation, and Meryton quickly chirped out his agreement.

That night, it was he who was straddled. Pounds and pounds of soft belly rested on his own flat stomach and chest. It made it a little more difficult to reach all of his master’s rotundity, but he did his best. There were times when he even got a little distracted, losing himself as he squeezed at a particularly thick roll along his lord’s side or ran his oiled hands along the soft, warm underside of his master’s belly.

Meryton had never known such luxury or bliss. And as he lay there, he realized what all those strange feelings he had never been able to unknot were. “Desire,” he whispered to himself.

“Hmmm?” the fat, pretty lord asked drowsily from above him. When the servant looked up, he could see his master smiling, a peculiar look in his half-lidded eyes.

“I… my lord, I desire you. More than anything.” He panicked as he said it. What if the master threw him out for saying so? What if he did not feel the same way?

“Meryton, you silly man,” his master said, leaning forward heavily, all his weight resting on the thin man beneath him. His voice was thick with lust. “I have been waiting for you to say so for an age now.”