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Kings of the Savanna

A heard of racing zebra, hyena stalking their prey, two giraffes lazily munching on the leaves of a recently reinvigorated tree; this, and much more, was the view tonight from the rocky throne of the king of the pride. The king, a proud lion named Triston, however, was not enjoying this sight, but rather he toyed with a bone from his most recent meal, tossing it between his paws as he waited for his hunger to return. When that time would come, as it certainly would, the king would order his closest kin, his brotherly guard, to order the hunters to return with a suitable meal. Meanwhile, he would lie in wait, his somewhat filled, yet still flabby white belly spreading out beneath him, a feeling that would bring joy to the king, for if there was one thing he desired, it was to be bigger than all of the rest. Gluttony was his game, and he played it without mercy.

The king was not always such a hoarder of food though. In fact, he used to be close to the former king himself, who had a tendency to indulge, but not nearly to the lengths that Triston would go to (as he was rarely one to be outdone by any of his compatriots). Triston would stay on watch while the former king slept, and bring him his meals upon request. These meals would be provided by the females of course, as it was their duty to hunt, though there would be times in which particularly resilient beasts would need an extra paw to take down, which Triston would happily provide. He was the strongest male in the pride, lean and laden with muscle, his mane a brilliant reddish-orange, with a roar that some would say could be heard for miles. Some would say that he was stronger than the king, even. That too, proved to be true.

Now all that remained of his former glory were his mane and roar, his body succumbing to the plentiful amount of food with ease as he took on weight. It didn't take long for his lean figure to give way to a belly that sagged and swayed under him as he walked, nor for his legs and face to lose their clean, cut definition. If anything, the males and females who once eyed and envied him now spoke behind his back of his soft, malleable form. There were of course some who appreciated it, but they kept their voices low in the crowd.

The problem within the pride was the fact that Triston had grown in weight, or that he had stopped being productive, instead choosing to play with his food as he was now rather than ruling his kingdom, but rather, the problem was how much he ate. This day alone the king had already indulged himself in four separate feasts spaced out over the day, taking the best pieces of meat from the freshest beasts, and now, he was waiting on his fifth, and what the huntresses would hope to be his final meal of the day. For the rest of the pride, two full, fresh meals would be the highlight of their day, instead, they were left to go hungry, even the huntresses would not be given a greater share, and so they would sneak bites of a beast before returning to the pride, claiming them to be the remnants of a fight. The only lions who received better treatment were Triston's guard, who took in all they could get to become strong, well-built felines themselves.

That night Triston fell asleep without his fifth meal, the cool, star filled night sky quickly forcing sleep upon him. Resigning himself to this urge to rest, he decided he would merely have a bigger breakfast, and so he would.

Outside of the king's dwellings lay Derran, Triston's most trusted friend, ally, and guard. He was the strongest, most muscular of all the lions in the pride, in part, due to his ability to get a guaranteed three meals a day. This came at a cost of course, as for one to become such close friends with the king, he would have to provide a service that no other would; and so he did.

At the king's call, usually at night, long after his most recent meal, Derran would enter Triston's den, and each night this would occur, it would always be the same request: "to soothe the king's stomach", as Triston would call it, but to Derran, all it meant was to rub the king's soft gut. Derran's paws would sink into the sea of white flab below him, the king purring and moaning with pleasure, and the guard would quickly get to work, kneading the doughy belly, pressing his paws into the softness, even nuzzling, and once licking the gluttonous king's bountiful belly. The king would be happy, his legs splayed in pleasure, his tail waving, his soft furred gut seeming even more malleable by the moment, and then he would fall asleep, assuring Derran that he would be treated well for his services. But starting tonight things would change.

Derran's eyes were closed, but he was not asleep, his tail swaying slowly behind him as he listened carefully for any approach. Slowly, he rose up upon his fours, his eyes opening without alarm. He could smell them before he even had a chance to hear them.

Trotting up along the uphill path that lead to the king's home were three females, hunters, one leading the two behind her. All with maws and claws smeared with the fresh blood of a kill. Derran knew these lionesses, or, at least their leader, Wanda, a simple, yet ferocious hunter whom he had attempted, and failed, to try to mate with. She simply preferred royalty, or at least that's what she claimed before the king had gained such mass in his middle.

"So Wanda, how many did you get?" Derran asked with a flick of his tail.

"Three."

"Three?"

"Three," one of Wanda's fellow huntresses replied.

"You know his habits; you see how much that lard-filled lion eats. You know that this will be enough to fill him more than he's ever been filled before," Wanda smiled slyly, "you just have to make sure he eats it all."

"I know," Derran stated disappointedly, a blush lightly filling his defined cheeks as he contemplated what he would have to do to stuff Triston beyond his limits. "So where are the zebra?"

"Don't worry, we'll have them brought to the den before he wakes up, we'll be waiting outside while you do what needs to be done." With that, the lionesses left, and Derran went back to his position on guard, sinking into a restless slumber in anticipation for the next day's events.

Triston yawned lazily, scratching at his belly and mane before beginning to rise onto his fours, stopped only Derran standing in the entryway of his den. "Please, relax my king, I have your first meal already prepared, a bit more than usual of course, but you had skipped your late night snack." The last word hung heavily on Derran's tongue as he laughed to himself; a snack for Triston would constitute an entire meal for any other lion in the pride! Triston licked his lips in anticipation and went back to his spot on the ground, his belly spreading out once more in all of its softness.

When Derran returned with the first zebra, Triston was delighted! He would normally enjoy an entire zebra to himself only on rare occasions, but this morning was certainly a surprise. There was no question of if he could consume it all, of course, he had done it many times before when he was much less hungry. Triston was quick to pounce on his meal once it was spread before him, hardly savoring the zebra's flavor as it quickly moved from the ground in front of him to the stomach beneath him. Within minutes, the king's belly was fairly taut, lifting him up fairly rather than merely spreading out beneath him, though its softness still remained in its outer reaches.

Triston let out a massive belch, his belly and body quivering at its force, leaving the king's tail flicking back and forth with excitement and a smile stretched out across his muzzle. Licking what was left of the zebra off of his lips, the king purred deeply in satisfaction, once more playing with a bone left over from his meal. Keeping his eyes on the bone, Triston began to lose himself in his own game and the oncoming allure of sleep once more, but his ears perked when he heard Derran entering. Looking up, he saw another zebra in tow.

"What is this?" Triston asked with surprise, unable to grasp the fact that his meal was far from done.

"Your meal, my king," Derran said earnestly, "you must keep up your strength." Derran dropped the zebra before the king again, quickly leaving and returning with yet another.

"Derran!" Triston shouted with a chuckle, "good friend, you know that this is far too much for me!" The king laughed once more, yet he began to eat the second zebra with almost as much haste as the first. Derran watched in amazement as the glutton continued his feast, his belly growing to the size of a small boulder as he, within minutes once more, ingested nearly half of the second zebra. "Oh I don't believe it is at all, my king."

"Ugh," the king groaned between bites, "this is certainly a treat!" Triston chuckled before taking in the last piece of the second zebra. "But," he continued, "this is certainly more than enough," Triston turned onto his side, his expansive, white belly as tight as ever, his fur somewhat thinner upon its horizon, it visibly moved up and down with each, labored breath of the wildly overfed lion. Triston burped again, though his belly did not shake nearly as much, quaking instead for a mere moment due to its tightness. "Please, feed this one to the rest of the pride." And with that, Triston rolled onto his back, unable to see much past his enormous gut but his two hind paws, which were splayed out to either side to allow room for his belly, and the fluffy tip of his tail, which waved between the two.

"Oh but my king," Derran said with a wicked grin, "you can certainly finish this meal! The huntresses worked so hard, all for you!" The muscular lion walked over to Triston's side, sat down, and placed a paw on the top of the king's taut belly, rubbing gently. The king purred wildly, panting even as his tail waved rapidly. He could feel a distinct pleasure making its way down to his loins, but he could do nothing to stop it as the pleasure of his guard, his friend, his ally's belly rub consumed him, just as they had in the past. Just as Triston began to close his eyes, giving into the rub, Derran pressed firmly upon his gut, releasing yet another massive burp that was quickly quieted by the guard, who had, having ripped a piece of meat from the third zebra off with a graceful swipe, stuffed the meat into the glutton's mouth, who couldn't help but chew.

"Derra-" Triston began before yet another piece was crammed into his muzzle, "what is the meaning of" he swallowed laboriously, "this?!" Derran merely grinned, rubbing the king's growing, white gut with one paw, and feeding him with another. Triston gave in, succumbing to the rubs and the constant food, his belly growing into a massive sphere, forcing his legs to splay even more as a wall of white became all that the king could see.

With one last exasperated gulp, Triston had finished his meal, and he was enormous. Derran continued to rub his belly for a moment before finally stopping, the king, packed beyond belief, releasing moans and groans as he took in the painful pleasure of having such an enormous, stuffed gut. "See, I knew you could do it, Triston," Derran said as he toured the king's new body, giving his enormous belly a playful slap, causing Triston to groan and burp loudly. Derran marveled at his creation, the lion truly was enormous, his belly stretched out nearly four feet above him, and nothing could be seen past his underbelly. Derran blushed and purred as he continued to prowl around Triston, finding himself licking his lips in awe and excitement as he nuzzled and toyed with the king's stomach. Once he felt he had thoroughly examined his charge, taking in every detail of that massive white furred gut, the guard left the den once more, and came back with a large crowd of males and females.

"Now," Wanda said, coming to the head of the group, "it's time to push!"

"You're lucky that you have been kind to me, it is only for that reason I have convinced them to spare you, Triston," Derran whispered to the soon to be former king.

And so, after many minutes of confusion after Triston had gotten stuck in the entry way, the lions pushed.

Triston groaned softly to himself as he awoke. Scanning his surroundings, he quickly understood what had happened. He had been overthrown, exiled, and left to fend for himself, the pride miles away from his location. Standing up, he began to understand two things.

The first, was that he had been asleep for a long time, nearly two days stuck in a food coma digesting his exorbitant meal. He was surprised that he had not been killed in his compromised state.

The second, was that he would not be going anywhere quickly for a long time. His paws struggled to gain footing on the ground, instead, they found their place atop his own belly. Where he once would have seen ground, he instead saw himself. His stomach had digested his meal, and now he suffered the consequences, his belly spread out on the ground before him, even while standing! Though he was able to, it had taken a good deal of time to maneuver his fat so that he could find ground to stand upon rather than his soft, white belly. Walking took a great deal of effort, his massive gut dragging beneath him with each step, slowing him and making any form of rapid motion impossible. Nevertheless, he purred gently with each step, loving the feeling of his belly pressing up against his legs, his chest forcing his forepaws apart and being pressed together in all of its softness, and the new weight of his tail, which had thickened considerably due to the weight as it swayed through the air. Still, he began his long, nearly impossible walk home, new sagging, dragging, soft belly and all, with only one thing on his mind: he was fat, his belly was enormous, brilliant and soft. With his gut, was the biggest lion in the savanna without a doubt.

Derran woke up happily after the nap he had taken when he had returned home. This was his new life, relaxing with an amazing view, getting all that he could ever want quite literally delivered to him by his subjects, and though he would miss the king as his belly, he knew it was worth it all.

Now, he rose up onto all fours, his muscles bulging, exacerbated, yet tired from the effort taken to push the massive beast far away from his throne. He was the king now. Derran purred at that thought. His stomach growled, and, without even looking, he ordered his friend, his guard, his ally, to bring him a hearty meal, he needed to keep his strength up of course!

Derran, the king of the pride smiled and closed his eyes as zebra raced in the distance.