You relish the feel of the king's warm, overfed belly as you run your hands across it in wide circles. You've always been an admirer of larger men, particularly of large bellies, but never before have you had the opportunity to actually place your hands on one. The curve of flesh swells in and out with each of the king's heavy breaths, and you can't resist lowering your head and placing a gentle kiss on the crest of the king's belly.
"If it were up to me," you say, continuing to rub in slow circles, "Your Majesty would do little else but feast all the day long, filling your stomach with sumptuous delights. To eat would be your sole obligation; your duty only to grow your belly as large and round as possible." You pause in your rubbing with your hand on either side of the large sphere and attempt to squeeze it between your hands, but the king is so glutted that there's no give to his majestic paunch.
Abruptly you snap out of your reverie, and pull away, face flushed with embarrassment.
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