Princess Cal Wyre sat up in bed, painfully, her back protesting. Soreness wrecking her body. She was tired but them clanging awful bells were belting out melody most bedevilled. She hated it. She wanted to wrap her walrus body in her sheets and sleep away another pampered and boring day. She was being groomed and she had lessons to attend. How else was she going to ascend successful to her mother’s throne? How could she keep the power once her mother had gone to the otherside? Even Cal Wyre’s own runtish brothers would do bloody rapish murder to her if she didn’t keep her eyes open. If she didn’t learn her lessons then her future would surely be a short and fucking useless endeavour.

  Cal Wyre was resolved to survival. She was going to be Queen and she would rule with clenched and upturned fist. She would flay her brothers, skin them alive and roast entrails for supper. There weren’t no room for softness in Cal Wyre which is why she heaved her huge bulk out of the sagging bed. Her butler, some stick thin whip of an almost human, stood by her bed - wearing the customary burlap sack over his head. He held out twiggy arms adorned with seemingly excessive drapery. Cal looked at his arms hungrily, she imagined snapping delicious bone, ripping skin and exposing flesh - how sweet to suck gory marrow from cracked bones. She was hungry and the whippish snack standing there, holding her clothes was encouraging slick sexiness between bloated thighs.

  It was a matter of resolve, to not dine upon almost human flesh, to not rip into the man and engorge bugged out stomach. Sinew and blood spilling from overfull mouth to disgorge over lumpy breasts and general tumidity. Slathering mouth seeking the juicy bits, the raw organs, heart and liver. Fuck it, she may as well just do it. Eat him Cal. Jibbty lickety we’re going to be fed today. Ain’t we? Ain’t it your duty to pile on the pounds? To fatten yourself to extremity? Ain’t it sexy Cal? Ain’t it bothering the pink hotness in your undercarriage? Eat the fucker.

  Cal took a stumbling, fat ankled, step towards the butler. She opened cavern like mouth and surveyed the raw boned, rangy man. She swallowed chocking, snotty, spit ball and relaxed. She allowed him to cover her adolescent nakedness and when finished Cal dismissed him, with aloof hand. Today weren’t his day. She was dripping huge globules of salty sweat, resisting her visceral urges. A Queen had to know when and where was the right time. A Queen had to have self discipline and Cal was going to be the greatest Queen Lux had ever known.

  She smiled at her piggish face in the mirror, thinking herself gloriously beautiful. She winked. She shook her hips. She seduced herself. Keeping her shifty fingers still as horniness engulfed her. Self control, that’s the game Cal. She waddled out of her room.

  Shortly giving up her puffy walk, which was over-extending her strength, she drew a bell from beneath billowing skirts and tinky tonked for attendance. Soon, four bulky men appeared. Naked save for burlap sack to cover heretical heads. Their tackles slapping limply against muscled thighs. Cal Wyre eyed them hungrily. The hunger itself overpowering. She wanted to take the men in her own mouth so to clamp down teeth on turgid pricks and rip them off. She imagined the bloody chewiness. Men, she thought, ain’t no good save food and for fathering children. Even the fucking she found repulsive. Her lessons involved countless penetrations from those faceless men. Ugly, thin bodies, nothing to hang on to. She spent the time eyeing the plump female attendants - exciting wet thoughts over a she paramour. Slippedy slap, it got things going, she slithered from one male courtesan to another all the while enjoying those plump beauties stood in shadows. She dreamed that she could live her darkest fantasies yet knew that her Queenishness shouldn’t allow that sort of thing. Resignation, self control, Cal had to play the part man.

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  The four men, wordlessly, shouldered Cal Wyre’s monstrous bulk and set off at an ever slowing march towards the Palace’s throne room where the great Queen Lyn Wyre presided.

  Upon arrival Cal was set down in an oversized chair at the huge table which dominated the throne room. Her mother, the Queen, was not yet there, she assumed her Divan would be shortly marched into the room. Cal tapped fingers on the table to the plinky plonk of Mr Keys. Mr Keys was one of the good ones. She enjoyed his fast fingered attention on the Palace’s grand piano. He sat at his piano stool indefinitely and clonked away, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. Melody beautiful, almost preternatural, phonically arranged to guide between merriment and melancholy. Cal leant back in her chair and gave in to the brightly toned piano. La De Da, La Da Da Di it was all in the complex relationship between pitch and rhythm. La Da Di, La Da See? Cal felt free. Oh yes the fattened She. Those delicate moments glistening in the air, turning to colour in her minds eye. Swimming under eyelids and flapping her away to the ‘Other’ that mystical ‘not here’. Where She could Be and She could Be with a She, where She could Be and Be Free. This was really living man, out there, unfettered.

  Snap - Crack - Back.

  Ain’t nothing that lasts forever Cal.

  Heavy doors swung open, hinges screaming tortured pain. The feet of the Divan appeared followed by slavish, gruelling, idiot men that carried it - the only men’s faces that Cal had ever seen - ugly, pocked and too... unfemale. Out there in the ‘not here’ Cal was told all of everybody walked around without rough burlap sack but not here, not in the Queen’s Eerie Palace; that which Cal had never been permitted to leave.

  The Queen had arrived; the men set her down at the head of the table. Cal took her in, every nook and cranny, she began to feel hot again, a bit... drippy. She admired that beautiful and enormous girth. Cal took one last look at Mr Keys, long hair poking from under sack, myriad tattoos swallowing his torso, polished boots clickedy clacking on the pedals. Then she turned her attention to her mother.

  Time to study Cal.