Chapter Text
Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower looked uneasily at the bowl of thick creamy soup and piles of buttered white bread in front of her, but, stealing a furtive glance, shoveled it in her face as face as she could. She stifled a belched and pressed her hand on her overfull stomach, the discomfort and fullness being the only thing that could take her mind off...everything. It had all gone wrong.
Rhaenyra was supposed to return to her, she was supposed to spend time with her...childhood companion for the rest of her husband's waning years, perhaps even be freed from the shackles of motherhood. But the old man just had to die at the possible worst time. She had fought to save Rhaenyra's life, offered her generous terms, only for those terms to be plowed over by Aemond, his dragon and his vengeance. Alicent had wept. Her life had been pointless, all of her duty and sacrifice had only brought her pain. So what was the point? In between the desperate, pleading letters she wrote to Rhaenyra daily, she would embrace the very hedonism that she had so chastised Rhaenyra for, years ago, when what existed between them was more simmering hatred than deep longing.
The first thing was the easiest.
Ser Criston's obsession with her only heightened as she made him Lord Commander and used him to secure her peace offer, and breaking his vows came as simply as Alicent pulling up her skirts in front of him, showing off her round behind and unlacing his armor. She took him in the bed she and Rhaenyra had so often shared together when they were girls. She admitted to liking the company, though she thought about Rhaenyra more than half the time they were together. She suspected the knight knew...but was too eager to fuck her to complain.
The second thing was what she was doing now- feasting. Alicent understood the impulse to drown her sorrows in wine, and adding food to that was a natural second step, a step perversely increased by lingering thoughts of Rhaenyra stuffing herself at feasts during their rivalry, bitterly looking at Alicent as she forced pastries and meat down her throat. Alicent shuddered at the thought. After Criston spilled his seed all over her backside and brought her to completion with his fingers, she thought of Rhaenyra's plush stomach in a black dress that night, all those years ago, and ordered enough roast lamb and lemon cakes to feed three. That became her nightly ritual, sex she thought she should never do again, followed by eating and drinking so much she would awake with a full, painful stomach and swear never to do so much again. Yet she still continued. Again and again. Alicent's green dresses were growing tight after a fortnight of this behavior. Her behind was growing rounder and heavier, her thighs touching and rubbing with new fluffy softness. Her belly swole and began to pooch above her lap, constantly swollen with indulgence, but flabby and soft before she began her feasting. Her breasts grew as well, some faint stretchmarks developing, nearly the size of Rhaenyra's before she grew to her present girth. She even felt her arms tight in the sleeves of the silken green garment.
She sighed, but poked her middle and shrugged. What's the point? she thought. She heard a rap on the door. The noise Criston made when he wanted her. Again? she thought.
She rose to her feet and opened the door anyways.
"Your grace, I - " Criston Cole found that his words caught in his throat as his eyes drank in the sight in front of him.
Had Alicent always filled out her dresses in such a...inviting fashion?
"I uh," he felt himself growing hard, his hands trembling ever-so-faintly, "I wanted to make certain that..." His heart was hammering in his chest, whilst sweat began to dribble down his forehead. "How does the morning find y-you?" He just about managed to force out the words.
Cole felt as if he were a boy again; butterflies stirring in his stomach.
Fool! he scolded himself internally, You are the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, not some yammering squire. Every fibre of his being was crying out for him to grab Alicent, to feel her softness against his own coarse hands.
"How does the morning find me?" Alicent scoffed. "It's past noon, Ser Criston. I've already dined twice." She self-consciously touched her stomach and blushed.
She awkwardly cleared her throat and noticed him trembling at the sight of her. She suppressed a desire to roll her eyes. Pathetic, even with me this bloated? she thought, mouth twisted in shame.
Alicent looked at Criston again though, his comely face and muscular frame. She slowly felt herself getting wet between her newly thickened thighs.
I may not even think about Rhaenyra, she thought, knowing it was probably a lie.
She guided Ser Criston to the bed and began unlacing his armor, as she had once unlaced Rhaenyra's gowns in the same bed.
"I..is there word from the Qu...Princess?" She said, eagerly, hoping he had heard...something, anything, and may distract him in the moment just long enough for the two of them to rethink coupling twice in one day.
She removed his breastplate and turned about to face him, letting a mailed hand linger on her softened hip, giving him a good view of her swollen middle.
His eyes fell to it, but when he looked back at hers...he only looked...excited?
"If there is, I have not heard it," Criston grunted, "Must we speak of that harlot? There is no need to dirty your precious tongue with such a filthy name."
The lord commander was unable to stop himself from clutching Alicen't stuffed belly, feeling her soft flesh in his grasp.
He could hear his breath quickening whilst he eagerly fondled her. Cole moved from her stomach to her hips, tracing her outline with his fingers.
"I have missed you," he practically wheezed, his voice made raspy by raw desire, "I think of you often. I think of you when we are apart. I think of you in my most private moments."
"We...needn't speak of her. I know the very mention of her upsets you so. I just...you know I feel..." Alicent sighed and shrugged. "I will not speak of her again. You're right. I will not sully myself with her."
A wicked smile crossed her lips at the hypocrisy, and she leaned over her sworn protector, biting her lip as he gave her middle a firm grasp. His rough hands on her soft body caused her to shudder, and he seemed eager to poke and prod every inch of freshly grown fat around her middle and hips, gently running fingers over new creases and bulges, rubbing his thumbs into the bulge of her swollen middle, stuffed to the brim with indulgence.
"I know you miss me, Ser Criston..." He must think of me in the same way I think of her, she thought, sadly.
"I think of you the same way," she said, falsely. She smirked and sat her round behind in his lap anyways, letting her softness envelope his strong thighs. She slung her arm around his neck and whispered in his ears.
"Do you want me?" She closed her eyes and put his hand to her love handle. "All of me?"
Criston was shaking so fiercely that he looked as if he were experiencing the beginnings of a fit. His flesh was soaked with sweat. His hands trembled. His entire form sang with the burning lust that had consumed him.
"Always," he gasped, "always and eternally. I want you as Florian wanted Jonquil."
He was powerless to stop his member from rubbing against Alicent's widened backside.
"Let me have you," he rasped in her ear, breathing far more heavily than he realised, "Let me take you."
The Lord Commander pressed his face into her pudgy neck.
"I...I yearn for you."
Alicent moaned a little as she felt his hard cock press against the backside of her dress and let him kiss her neck. She closed her eyes and imagined it was Rhaenyra at her neck and shuddered in intense pleasure.
I'm such a sinner... she thought, but her swelling desire made her cease in caring.
"Strip me, Florian, and take what you wish..." Alicent said, her voice breathy and low. She felt his fingers awkwardly fumble with her tight laces, feeling cool air and then calloused hands on her soft back.
"If you are to be my Florian, you mustn't be a fool..." she reached under her soft behind and squeezed his cock. "Be careful where you finish."
His cock throbbed in her hand. By the gods, he's so eager it must hurt. She flipped over to allow him to remove the rest of her garment, revealing her pudgy soft tummy, still swollen, her fuller breasts, and wide hips, her soft sides gaining a few new pale stretchmarks.
"Do still you yearn for my body, Ser Criston? Even when you see it plain?" She grabbed his cock again, knowing that no matter how much she had run to fat, it was true.
"I did not think the flames of yearning could burn any brighter within me, my queen," Criston moaned, "But seeing you in all of your pure, perfect splendour makes me feel a thirst I have never known outside of dreams."
The Lord Commander thrust himself inside her from behind, greedily fondling at her rolls and softness as he slipped inside her cunny, beating with a primal, furious rhythm.
"You are beauty given form," he groaned, moving faster and faster as his rational mind dissolved into animal lust, "There was never one as m-magnificent as you."
Ser Criston grabbed hold of her swollen stomach, using Alicent's belly like a handle as he bumped and pushed against her considerable rear end.
"You are p-perfect." he rasped.
Alicent let out a loud gasp as her sworn shield took her from behind, pressing her soft body against the soft silk sheets of Rhaenyra's....no, her bed. Lust had overtaken her lover and he seemed lost in all of her, thinking of naught but the next thrust or the next grope. Her behind jiggled and wobbled, thighs bounced and smacked together. His hand desperately squeezed the soft lower fat of her belly.
"Am I perfect? I'm not...sullied? A desperate slutty pile of flesh?" Alicent replied, half moaning, desperately and breathlessly. Sweat formed at her brow and she felt heat rising in her body as Criston slammed into her.
Ser Criston watched her body juddering and wobbling with eyes that bulged with delight.
"Y-yes, your grace." the Lord Commander blurted out, evidently unsure as to the correct answer.
Whilst his member was inside of her, Criston slipped one hand between Alicent's thighs, stroking her womanhood with his fingers.
"You're a spoiled, sinful harlot," the words sounded forced in Cole's hesitant voice, "The queen of w-whores."
Alicent squealed and moaned as Ser Criston played with her tender wet sex, overwhelmed as she felt her whole body jiggle, his cock behind her and his finger on her clit.
"Yes, I'm sinful, I'm fallen. Good...but you still need me..." She heard the hesistancy in his words. He is far too obsessed. He is loathe to think of me but anything but the Maiden made flesh. She did not care in the moment, however. Alicent Hightower needed to be punished for her wanton ways. She thought of someone who would do that, not simply worship the ground she walked on...
It was that that drove her to the edge, not that the feeling of Criston inside her was at all unpleasant. She pushed her wide rear out, pressing it against more of his firm body. She felt his member twitching, throbbing inside her, aching for relief, and their sweat pool together on her soft body.
Uncertain yet driven by a volatile blend of love and lust, Ser Criston sought to meet Alicent's desires, even if he did not understand them.
He smacked one hand forcefully against the ample flesh of her impressive backside, leaving a burning red imprint upon her pale skin.
"So sinful and blasphemous," his voice was marred by the incertitude that came from wading into unfamiliar territory, "You body is...uh...as a-ample as your sins."
The Lord Commander winced, worried that he had spoken out of turn.
Had Alicent been anywhere but the throws of shameful desire, she would have scolded her sworn shield. He had said that and worse about Rhaenyra only to be chastened or received with a cold stare. But in the moment, with the once perfect queen writhing on his cock, it was far from unappreciated. The hard smack and jiggle on Alicent's behind, combining with the reminder that her body was far too ample and wholly given over to lust and gluttony, the feeling of his thick cock hard against her wet sex, and the feeling of his rough fingers playing with her sensitive clit all caused her to shake and moan, wobbling her way into a powerful orgasm.
Her breathing increased rapidly, sweat poured from her brow, and she grew red and desperate as she pressed her wide behind further against Ser Criston, kicking a plump leg against the bed, and writhing in his hands. "Mmm...Rh..." she corrected herself quickly, despite being lost in passion, "Mmm...Criston, oh Criston, oh gods...fuck...finish on me..." She shook her enticing rear end one last time.
The Lord Commander was far too enthralled in his perfect queen to notice the faint "Rh" that had begun to slip out of her lips.
One such as Cole could not even begin to muse at the notion of his darling Alicent harbouring such unorthodox desires.
Ser Criston let out a primal grunt as he pulled himself out of the queen, spilling his seed all over her fleshy behind. The Lord Commander collapsed on top of her, sweaty and panting whilst he tightly gripped Alicent's growing form.
Alicent let out sighs of pleasure and release, grabbing a linen towel and gesturing for Criston to wipe her off. She flushed red as she did so. "We shouldn't do that again..." she admitted under her breath, still breathless, sweaty and her post-orgasm bliss fading in the face of the reality around her.
She slowly began to dress again, feeling the green silk garment tight about her body. Her stomach was a good deal less swollen, making it look soft and flabby. There were still a few streaks of seed on her back rolls, and her vast behind strained green silk to its bursting point. She used the towel to wipe off Ser Criston's cock, still not fully returned to soft.
Her wide stomach rumbled again. "I suppose I've worked up an appetite..." she flushed and gently patted her soft middle.