Hall of the Hog King 3
author: Hollow
oOo Next Thursday oOo
The great King Belgoliath sat upon his throne, a large tray beside him that had, roughly thirty minutes ago, contained an equally large portion of food for him to eat – but he’d gobbled up pretty much everything presented to him on that tray in record time, saving only two sandwiches fit for a king of his nature, and, a hunk of pie that he’d opted to savor later on when he started to eat.
Later on had come, but, even then, the King did not immediately grab it. No, he grabbed a sandwich instead, and he stood up off his throne with it in hand.
His great belly sunk down, pointing toward the floor, while his corpulent mass jiggled ever so slightly from the simple motion. Then, though, King Bel took a step down, then another, and another. With each step, each lifting of his rotund legs, his mass rose and fell, the rolls in his massive stomach flopping about as if they were dancing to the beat of his heavy footsteps.
And yet, King Bel wasn’t bothered at all by this. In fact, he’d taken great pains to be more mobile over the course of the previous week than he normally would’ve, although he maintained his hefty, chunky figure without much difficulty – devouring so many different delicious foods on a regular basis helped, and, King Bel’s vast globulous body shape was so very beloved by many within his kingdom. He had standards to adhere to, after all!
For now, though, the King set about trotting across the hall with the sandwich in hand still, tossing it up into his large mouth after several steps. His maw engulfed the sandwich – which contained two thick slices of meat, three different cheeses, and several vegetables on it, smushed between thick sourdough bread – and he bothered himself to chew a few times to get a better sense of the different flavors that trembled upon his mighty tongue.
Ten steps later, the sandwich was gone, and the bloated king was well making his way across the hall of his throne room, much to the surprise of his guards.
“Er, your Majesty!” one guard remarked. “Sire, if you wish, we can have whatever you desire brought to you. No need to trouble yourself with it, my Lord.”
King Bel halted with a heavy thud, his belly shooting forward from the momentum he’d been walking with before slowly sinking back into place. The King, though, had a jovially broad smile on his face, and he regarded his guard with only earnest fondness.
“Ah, fear not, my friend,” the King said, and he patted a hand on his belly, a single pat sending a ripple through the fat down to his thighs. “I realized last week that I was putting far too much strain upon my royal carriers, and, when I received that letter from my brother, I decided I would force myself to grow a bit more active.” He winked. “While I will always be the Hog King – and proud of this fact, dare I say! – I also want to be a mobile Hog King, good sir.”
The guard looked at two others that were standing beside him, and after a moment of silence, they nodded in understanding, although they were clearly unsure.
It was no secret that King Bel had never been the most frequent when it came to moving about on his own two feet – his entire palace knew he COULD do it, of course, but they were often used to seeing him moving about in bursts at a time before falling back onto the royal carriers to get him from one part of the massive castle to the other. There was a greater reasoning behind it, though, one King Bel did not often discuss with others – and he opted not to dwell on that reason now, not when he was on his two feet!
“Actually,” King Bel said. “If there’s one thing one of you fine fellows could do for me, I wish to know… has there been any word from the assassin?”
The guard that had expressed concern responded after a pause. “Ah, no, Sire. He was taken to the Triplets as per your order, but, none of us have heard a peep from them about him.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, Sire, if… if I may…”
The other two guards looked at him with wide eyes, like they were about to panic from him opening his mouth. But King Bel gave a bellowing chuckle and waved his hand about – he would have no fear from his subordinates toward him, for he loved his servants and his guards to pieces, and would gladly defend them using any means he could. He wanted them open and honest.
“Please, don’t fear speaking your mind,” King Bel said. “It takes a great deal to actually upset me, my friends. I’ve had many in the past, from children to adults to the elderly to even servants, say something or make some comment about whatever you can imagine. Hardly do I ever take it as an earnest insult, and if I DO, then, I am quite good at laughing at myself, I assure you!”
The one guard swallowed. “It’s not you, Sire. It’s, um… Well, what is the deal with the Triplets, exactly? You’ve always cautioned us not to, erm, go around their area, and I’ve never really understood why.”
King Bel nodded with understanding, his flabby cheeks and chin bobbing up and down even when he’d finished the nod for a few seconds.
“Are you relatively new here, my good man?” King Bel asked. “You seem to be one of the more recent recruits to my guard, I mean – it’s… Reginald, yes?”
The guard looked surprised. “Um, yes, Sire. Reginald.”
King Bel slowly and gently reached down with his massive hand and placed it upon the guard’s shoulder – he had to lean down a bit, sinking into his great gut in order to do this proper, and though his knees whined, he ignored them.
“Reginald,” King Bel said, his smile remaining. “The Triplets are very much a unique asset to this kingdom, and they’ve served me well for my reign. Their methods may seem strange, perhaps even unsavory, but, they are most assuredly on the side of good, not only toward me, but toward everyone in Bearmaw.” He removed his hand and stood upright, his rotund body poofing back out when he’d finished. “I ask that caution be taken because they are…”
He paused at this, and, for a moment King Bel pondered how to word it.
“Dangerous, Sire?” the guard offered.
“Mm. Dangerous, yes,” King Bel conceded, “yet that danger is more often toward those who would mock them or underestimate them. I suppose it’s simply because they requested a greater deal of privacy, really.”
This answer seemed to appease the guard’s curiosity, and it wasn’t a lie, by any means. Then again, even King Bel, for as long as he’d known the Triplets, couldn’t provide an exact, concrete reasoning behind it – he simply knew that they were not always the safest to be around, although none of the Triplets would ever mean harm toward anyone that was a civilian or one of King Bel’s.
Regardless, King Bel nodded to his guardsmen, and then set about on the path toward the tower where the Triplets lived – it was not far from the main castle, and in fact, there was a hall that led directly to one of their doors.
King Bel, with thundering footsteps thanks to his great weight, trotted from the throne room into the main hall, and, from there, turned left – many of his guards were stationed throughout the area, and, naturally more than a few followed their King. He did not mind one little bit, as he knew it was their duty.
Plus, he knew he wasn’t exactly the fastest, nor the hardest man to follow.
King Bel hummed to himself and trudged down the left hall, and soon he came to another hall, one with only a single door at the very end – and what a large door it was! He kept his pace, his big belly quaking and shaking with each bounding footstep, the rolls of his fat still dancing the seconds away.
When he approached the gigantic door, King Bel calmly reached out toward the handle and gave it an easy yank, and in seconds, the door swung open, revealing a stairwell that led up – yet even here, without even entering the starting portion where the stairs lay in wait, King Bel could hear the bickering from above him. He smiled at this, and he just knew he was in for a treat.
King Bel paused only for a short breath, since stairs weren’t exactly a man his stature’s best friend – but he sucked in a deep breath, and with it, sucked in his fabulous flabby visage, and he started up those detestable stairs.
His footsteps boomed down upon each, sending loud echoes throughout the stairway. But once King Bel started moving up them, the upward motion and the force behind picking up those thick legs of his started to grow less and less irritating. His legs were incredibly powerful, in fact, despite what many tended to think – they were as stoutly powerful as his arms, in fact, and when King Bel had a mind to, if he started to move… pray to Heaven it wasn’t toward you.
‘I forgot how much fun this was!’ King Bel thought.
He’d been worried about the stairs, but now, he was grinning wide again. His jowls wobbled, and his belly billowed out, a pulsing mass of soft flesh, yet he didn’t stop or slow – and after roughly five minutes, he’d climbed the stairs.
Now, he was in the room of the Triplets, their main chamber. And already he could see them doing their usual bickering while each was busied with their own personal projects – a common sight to see for them, and to hear.
“No, no, no, you bumbling bumblefuck! You’re doing it all wrong!”
“Don’t you fucking mouth off to my apprentice like that, you greaselaced pork!”
“You brainless toadbitch, I’m talking to YOU!”
“Oh, would you two shut up already?!”
“No!”
“Piss off, you grubby little shitweasel! Nobody asked you!”
King Bel tried to hide his thorough amusement at their usual display of insults and trash-talking – but oh, they were just too funny to him, and he always enjoyed just sitting back and listening to them carry on with arguments that seemed to come and go with the drop of a hat.
The Triplets, despite the nickname used by King Bel and most everyone else in the Kingdom of Bearmaw, were actually not at all identical – in fact, if you gazed upon them standing beside one another (without them arguing or fighting over something), most would assume they weren’t related at all. But, they were: two sisters and one brother, to be precise – Avorra, Tresha, and Balfor, respectively. And they were all born with magic in their blood.
Avorra was the eldest of the three, a gorgeous, curvy woman with ivory-white skin so pale she looked like a ghost, yet her eyes were a vibrant magenta color – the same vibrant magenta shared by her siblings. But her eyes were often the second trait noticed, for she also had long, long wavy black hair that naturally fell all the way down to her ankles – although you wouldn’t think it, since her hair was her magic’s medium, and thus, two large, thick tendrils of hair were moving around like legs, while other tendrils acted like her arms.
Then, there was Tresha, the middle sister. Equally attractive like her big sister, but with short, spiky orange hair splayed out in every direction that brought to mind flames, and in certain angles, her hair did look like it was actual fire. She possessed larger, more energetic eyes, a button nose, full lips, and overall had very youthful features beyond the equally pale, ghostly skin and the same vibrant magenta eyes. Her physique was average, if softer and slender, with her midriff on full display due to the way she always dressed – by choice, too.
And finally, Balfor, the youngest of the three. His facial features were more slim and rigid compared to his sisters, like thin eyebrows, thin lips, and eyes that were downturned as if he were always either tired or sad. Yet he was not at all an unattractive young man – his hair was black and long, running down to his shoulders, with several fiery-red streaks that seemed quite natural. He was a skinny man with skinny arms and legs, but massively large feet that he kept bare, for they were his magical medium, and looked more like hands.
“Good day, Triplets!” King Bel said, his voice cutting through their arguments pretty much immediately. “Avorra, Tresha, and Balfor… I hope you and your apprentices are doing well this afternoon. Pardon my surprise visit.”
All three halted what they were doing when they saw him standing there.
“Your Highness!” Avorra said. “It’s an honor, as always, Sire!”
She dropped down onto the floor from where she’d been standing via her hair, which shrank back down until it was its normal, already quite long length. She walked up to the King and bowed her head to him, smiling bright and wide.
Both Tresha and Balfor followed suit and did the same, bowing to their King.
King Bel’s smile only widened. “Why am I not surprised I’m the one thing that seems to get you to cease your constant feuding, my dear Triplets?”
All three shrugged.
“It is a habit, your Highness,” Tresha said. She pressed a finger into her navel, and began to dig around said finger while she stood there, casual and relaxed now. She smiled sweetly, but then, she was the sort of woman that radiated genuine sweetness. “We’re sorry if our bitching is why you’re here, though, Sire. I swear we’re not trying to kill one another. We’re just assholes, really.”
“No, no, not at all,” King Bel said, chortling. “Honestly, if I thought your shouts and threats toward one another were serious, I would’ve separated the three of you ages ago. That you’ve never once acted out on these tells me enough.”
Avorra laughed. “Oh, certainly not, your Majesty. We utterly despise one another to the very bone and back, but we also love one another the same.”
“Siblings,” Balfor said with a shrug.
“Don’t I know it,” King Bel said. His smile faded slightly, and he sighed, then looked not at the three, but, beyond them at their apprentices – for all three had their own apprentice, which he’d allowed months ago. “And I do hope you’re taking care to be kind to your chosen apprentices, yes? No mishaps?”
The Triplets shook their heads unanimously.
Their apprentices, for their sake, didn’t appear frightened, upset, starved, injured, threatened, maimed, or bothered whatsoever, which was really what the King was looking out for – he trusted the three implicitly, he simply knew they could be a handful. Several handfuls, in fact; but when the King was pleased that they were in good health and in one piece, he nodded.
“To what do we owe your esteemed visit, your Highness?” Avorra asked.
“I’ve come to inquire about our friend,” King Bel replied.
“Friend?” Balfor asked.
“Oh, wait,” Tresha said. “You mean that fuckwit that got chucked in here last week? The one that tried to assassinate his Royal Lordship like a dumbass?”
King Bel smirked. “Yes, my lady. The very same.”
“Got him trapped in a special little chamber for him,” Tresha replied, beaming.
Balfor made a face. “I’m not going down there.”
“Oh, shut up, you spineless cockwaffle,” Tresha said.
“Be nice to your brother, you stupid twat!” Avorra snapped, and one tendril of hair smacked Tresha in the shoulder.
They looked about ready to start arguing all over again, but, King Bel cleared his throat. He was a very patient man, and he had no qualms with waiting – but, with the banquet looming on the horizon, he did wish to see if a week with the Triplets had successfully managed to loosen the assassin’s tongue.
“This way, Sire,” Avorra said, waving a hand.
“I’ll be here,” Balfor muttered. “Stupid witches.”
“Eat our asses, you little toad,” Avorra said with a snort.
“Better than your cooking, I’d wager,” Balfor replied before trotting off to his little corner.
Avorra scowled at him, while Tresha giggled devilishly.
Still, they didn’t pick their feuding up, and, instead the two sisters led King Bel through a door to their right – and through this door lay a long hall with several other doors sprinkled throughout. Their destination, however, was the door at the end of the hall – King Bel noticed how often important places tended to be at the ends of halls. He wondered if it was a design choice or not…
“He was a tightlipped asspucker, that one,” Tresha said as they walked.
King Bel nodded, unsurprised to hear that. His lumbering form actually didn’t create loud footsteps, although his belly jiggled and jived around all the same.
“We chained him up in our main hall,” Avorra said. She was grinning wide, her eyes almost glowing. “Figured a week of listening to us bitch and moan at one another would be enough to break him. Usually, the fools you send to entertain us don’t last half that long. But this one… I’ll give him credit. He didn’t break.”
“Really?” King Bel asked. Now THAT surprised him.
“He came close,” Tresha said. “You could see the shitty little gears in his stinky mind spinning faster and harder with each passing day. But, when it became clear he wasn’t going to break, we decided to switch our tactics up.”
“Granted, we spent the previous day deciding who would get him,” Avorra remarked with a nonchalant shrug. “I wanted to break him, but these two shitheads wouldn’t let me. So, we did our usual routine of picking…”
“And I won,” Tresha said proudly.
King Bel knew what that meant – he was already starting to beam, even before the door was reached and opened by Avorra’s hair. Within the chamber, hanging from long, thick, weblike threads, with arms and legs bond in balls, and mouth currently covered, was the assassin. He was completely naked, too, but the bindings covered him up. And they didn’t look comfortable, either.
“My, my…” King Bel said, astonished. “Quite the handiwork, Tresha.”
“Thank you, my Lord,” Tresha said, and she bowed with pride.
Avorra rolled her eyes. “My route would’ve been a little less disgusting.”
“Maybe so,” Tresha said. “But, really, how humiliating do you think it must be? For an assassin to be stripped down and then hung from the ceiling by a sorceress’ magic belly button lint!” She cackled. “It’s glorious, isn’t it?”
Avorra tried to hide her smile, while King Bel did no such thing – he was grinning even wider now, so big, his cheeks lifted up, and he shook his head with eager excitement, wiggling his mighty jowls in the process.
That was Tresha’s medium – her navel, of which she could do a great deal of things with thanks to her magic, including the generating of a thick thread that she could pull out and weave as though she were a humanoid spider. Definitely not something the faint of heart could stomach seeing, let alone having done to themselves. The assassin… King Bel didn’t envy him.
“I’ll get the daft bastard down,” Tresha said.
She pressed a finger into her navel, spun it about a few times, then, when she removed it, she had a literal thread now surrounding her fingertip. With a big grin, she pulled the thread out until it was long enough that she was able to fashion a literal rope from it – and using that rope, she tossed it up and lassoed the neck of the assassin.
“Careful you don’t break his neck,” Avorra said.
“Aw, shut up,” Tresha muttered. “I know what I’m doing, woman.”
With a few good yanks, and a snap of her other hand’s fingers, the spider web that held the assassin up seemed to dissipate, and he came crashing down to the floor with a heavy thud. The man lay there for a long moment, naked and clearly worn down – he barely managed to look up, and though it seemed like he tried to stand, his attempt failed.
Unfortunately, the rope was still around him, and Tresha yanked the fool up and to his feet. He was still covered in the remnants of her ‘bindings.’
“Splendid, splendid,” King Bel said. He gave a booming laugh. “Now then.”
The great king strode up to the naked man and looked him down, putting his thick paws on his bulging sides while he eyed the assassin. It was clear from the dimmed expression on the assassin’s face that the ‘torture’ had done what King Bel expected it to do, even if it had taken longer than most.
“Are you prepared to talk now, assassin?” King Bel asked.
The assassin glowered up at the King. “You… are repulsive, Hog King. You and your…” He gagged and spat to the side. “You and your entire filth don’t deserve to hold any titles utter than swine!”
King Bel guffawed. He laughed hard and heavy, his flabby jowls and gigantic belly wriggling and jiggling from the effort – even the floor shook a little from the sheer strength of his laugh. Both Avorra and Tresha seemed more vexed by the snide remarks than anything, and they were bickering among themselves.
“Got any more belly button lint, Tresha?” Avorra asked, jamming her finger into her sister’s navel with interest. “We should string him up by his smelly toes and leave him hanging from the ceiling till the blood drains down to his brain.”
“You dumb cow, you know I do,” Tresha said. “I’ll tie his fucking tongue and rip it out for daring to degrade us in such a way, so help me!”
King Bel’s laughter subsided, although his smile didn’t. “Oh, assassin… you’ll need to be much more creative if you’re aiming to insult ME personally. Such silly remarks hold no water here; I’ve been called worse and told worse over the years, and to be quite blunt, your attempt wasn’t very creative. You may be a man of skill and tact, and an iron will, judging by how long it took for you to start cracking… but they are nothing compared to those in my kingdom.”
The assassin, despite his obvious attempt at staying strong, was clearly exhausted and lacking energy from the whole ordeal of being stuck with the Triplets for a week. He collapsed onto one knee within seconds, and he barely managed to pick his sorry hide up. King Bel almost felt sorry for the man – almost.
“If you tell me what I desire, assassin,” King Bel said, “I will consider allowing you to go free.”
The two women pouted behind the large, globulous king, but, did not speak.
The assassin was struggling over this, for a good few minutes, in fact, before at last his body and exhaustion proved to be far too great. With dreary eyes and an angry, disdainful expression, the assassin’s shoulders sagged in defeat as he fell to his knees again.
“Damn it,” the assassin muttered. “Fine.”
King Bel smiled wider, showing his brilliantly bright, clean teeth. “So, then, my friend… who was it that paid you to end my life?”
“I don’t know who they were,” the assassin said. His tone was begrudging and drenched in worn down irritation. “They wore a cloak that covered their whole body and a thick hood over their heads, with a mask on, to muffle their voice. I know it was a man. Sounded young, but I can’t say exactly.” He gnashed his teeth together. “A big man. Not as large as YOU, Hog King, but, definitely not a skinny fellow, nor short in stature, either.”
King Bel ran a hand over his rotund chin in thought. “Describe his voice to me. Was it light? Deep? Rough?”
The assassin furrowed his brow. “Er… well. Light, I suppose. Higher pitched than I would think from a man as big as him. But there was a commanding presence to it. I could tell that much for sure. Quick and blunt, straight to the point. Wanted you dead.”
“Did he say why?” King Bel asked.
The assassin cracked a weak smirk. “Only that your reign was a nuisance upon the land, and that you were a false king pretending to be something he wasn’t. He said you were, and I quote, ‘an unworthy bloated blight’ of a man.”
King Bel cocked his thick head to the side, intrigued by this. It was the first time he’d heard of this sort of response for a reason as to why someone would want him dead. Normally, royal assassinations weren’t unheard of – yet those tended to be over things like power, land, or wealth, or petty rivalries turning deadly. But to be over his supposed lack of worthiness? Interesting.
“Is that all you have to divulge, assassin?” King Bel asked.
“That’s all I know,” the assassin said. “I’ve no reason to lie to you, not after you’ve put me through such a sickening week. Listening to these petulant bitches bickering with one another!” He ground his teeth. “Now release me. You said you would.”
King Bel chortled. “I said, my friend, that I would ‘consider’ letting you free. I did not promise you freedom, nor even life for that matter.”
He beamed at the assassin, and suddenly, as the King stood there at his full height with his phenomenally engorged body taking up such a great deal of space, he appeared far, far more menacing than he normally did. The assassin, for a change, shrank back a bit as the King towered over him, looking like the mountain of a man he truly was – King Bel was a gentle soul by nature, yes, but he was not afraid of conquest, nor of violence when the need arose.
“Your slurs do little to faze me,” King Bel said, “but I do not like it when people speak ill of my people. All citizens within Bearmaw are mine – mine to protect, to feed, to care for. Every man, every woman, every child, every pet… and you desecrate them with your slanderous words and foul temper.”
He jabbed a meaty finger at the assassin.
“You will remain here, assassin,” King Bel said. “The Triplets are free to entertain themselves with you for as long as they desire. Perhaps in time I may consider allowing you to leave… or perhaps I will have your life ended. But until such a day comes, dear sir, you are their plaything, their guinea pig.”
“What?!” the assassin snapped. “Y-you… you can’t–”
A thick tendril of living hair was around the man’s face in no time, silencing his protests. King Bel smiled at this, and turned back to the two sisters.
“Enjoy your new pet, my dears,” King Bel said.
“Our thanks, Sire,” Avorra said. She licked her lips. “I plan to, for sure.”
Tresha snorted. “It’s almost sad I don’t find men attractive… but then, I think it’ll make this more fun for me. And we can’t forget glum Balfor, either.”
King Bel heard the muffled protests of the assassin behind him, but, he ignored the man and strode out of the room. Armed with this new information, King Bel decided he’d have some of his spies look into it… and in the meantime, why, he had a feast to prepare for, too! Tomorrow was going to be interesting…
oOo