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Written by Choice Cuts Deli

Commission for Anonymous | May 2021 | 7926 Words

|Commission for Anonymous | May 2021 | 7926 Words

|Commission for Anonymous | May 2021 | 7926 Words

It was just one last pastry, after all... Adrien grunted as he stared cross-eyed down the length of his pudgy canid snout. A single maple-glazed puff pastry was perched in the middle of his loyal advisor's hand. The puppy prince allowed his gaze to wander up along the dark, dense fur, passing the familiar toothy grin. The wolfish advisor always carried that look when offering an extra sweet to his prince. But having finished such a grand feast, a meal fit to make his pants burst and enough wine to addle the tipsy boy's mind, Adrien nearly felt his stomach turn as he glanced back down at the sickeningly sweet confection.

"B- Butch, my dear..." Adrien slurred, failing to swallow a soft belch that welled up within his throat. Head swaying softly, the twenty-year-old prince held up a chunky paw to motion for him to take it away. "I d- don't think I c-"

"Ah, but my prince!" The wolf's voice dripped with something that Adrien liked to imagine was affection, a warm undercurrent that brought a slight blush to his chubby cheeks. "I know you too well, do I not?" Lowering to his haunches, the wolf's towering form still sat eye-to-eye with the prince. Wafting the pastry under his young charge's nose, he added, "You know... I had this one baked especially for you - just the way I know you like them. A treat to finish off tonight's banquet." Surrounded by so many prestigious attendees - nobles, esteemed merchants, generals, even a royal astronomer - Adrien felt the eyes of the room fall upon him. Trying to bring his wine-diminished focus to bear on the dessert in front of him, the low disapproving whispers about the little faggot prince failed to even register, gone astray somewhere in the sloshed silver pathways between eardrum and conscious thought. Before the puppy prince could muster up enough of his wavering resolve to push it away, Bouchard de Frey leaned forwards, resting his snout upon the boy's shoulder. "If you are good, my sweet," he whispered softly, chin fluff nuzzling against the prince's ear, "and you eat every bite, I will make sure you reach your chambers in comfort tonight."

It was, to anyone who kept an ear to the ground, an open secret that Adrien was smitten with his longtime regent and advisor. The towering black wolf carried such reserves of strength, such composure, it was enough to make the little pup's heart flutter. He could, it was whispered in closed circles, read Adrien's flustered face like a book. And he knew all too well how to get his charge to comply; a promise, a firm hand, a soft cuddle against the pudgy prince's body... Any of these actions would suffice to ensure he did as he was told. Before he had even leaned back, Butch watched as Adrien, faltering, lifted the pastry off his paw and jammed it clumsily into his muzzle. Chomping down firmly, the puppy prince gasped as a sweet buttercream filling rolled over his tongue. The first bite ached on the way down, his stomach protesting, but the second bite - taken after a brief breather - felt... insubstantial. Tingly, even. Adrien swallowed hard, his head beginning to bob as the room began to spin, his teeth clacking as he tried and failed to stuff the last of the pastry into his mouth. As the room went dark, the last thing the prince saw was Butch's toothy grin, a flash of white before he inelegantly collapsed, face first, into what remained of his dessert.

The pastry was, of course, drugged. A very potent, but correspondingly short lived soporific - to any observer not knowing better it would appear to be simply a case of getting blackout drunk. But the unconscious Adrien did not sleep peacefully...

Sucking cool, moist air into his lungs, Adrien found himself wandering amidst a world of soft and puffy clouds. Weightless, almost bouncy with each stride, the prince felt himself wander through the shapeless, cottony mass, pushing aside poltergeist-white mist with pudgy pawpads. As he strode through a seemingly endless, yet eerily liminal space, the prince felt a draft sweep up under his feet, the clouds flowing outwards until they formed a sort of room all around his body. Shapes began to coalesce out of the aether, a long table, high-backed chairs, a raised platform at the head of the table. As the puppy prince approached, the wafting clouds solidified into recognizable features - solid marble walls, inlaid with glowing silicone and emblazoned with the royal seal. "This... This is the throne room?" Adrien asked himself aloud, his voice echoing softly with the same tenor it normally did in his home.

It was then that he noticed that not all of the pillowy mist had disappeared; a thin layer still clung to the floor, swirling and coalescing around a single point by the regal throne. Adrien gasped in surprise as the swirling clouds began to solidify into a familiar shape. Adrien's jaw dropped as he stared into the warm and loving eyes of his father, the wise and proud king of Byloth steadying himself, with one signet-ringed hand upon the throne. The wizened king smiled a broad grin, gesturing his hand towards the prince before turning his attention to the grand banquet table - a sea of nameless, faceless onlooking subjects. Looking down nervously to his feet, Adrien was struck with the strangest sensation of deja-vu, before realizing he was reliving a very specific moment in his life. This was the day his father left upon the journey far across the western oceans.

"You remember, do you not, my prince?" A booming voice crackled through Adrien's ears, causing the puppy prince to twitch as a curl of cold chill crawled up his thighs. Caressing, like a wandering hand copping a feel, the intruding form made itself known as two heavy weights planted on both sides of the prince's shoulders. Letting his head fall backwards, Adrien stared straight up in time to see a dark cloud coalesce into his advisor, the wolf's vicious smile staring down as he towered over the little prince. "The day your father left. The day he told me to take care of the kingdom in his absence." While Bouchard's looming form held Adrien tight to his gut, the king gave a few wordless motions and orders to Bouchard, his father pantomiming and gesturing before turning away from the throne. Tightening his grip upon Adrien's shoulders, Butch's swelling presence added, "To take care of you, my sweet..."

The far side of the great hall began to morph, gorgeous marble bubbling and swelling into a shimmering portal as a low, bellowing foghorn filled the prince's ears. "Wait..." Adrien called out, the King's focused gait unchanged even as he repeated much louder, "Wait! Father!" His cry echoed through the dreamscape as he watched the king step through the wall, the land beyond turned into a foggy harbor pier. It was exactly as it happened on that same day, so many years ago. Adrien could only stand and watch as his father boarded the royal steamship, the Valorant, held back by Bouchard's powerful grip.

"You put on such a brave face, pup..." Butch crooned, his muzzle gently tickling behind Adrien's ear tip as he watched the King disappear into the void of swirling mist, swallowed by the smoky cold before the banquet hall resolidified. "But just as on that day, my prince, we have business to attend to. Turning Adrien's attention back towards the banquet table, the prince gasped as he saw the previously empty space laden with the richest of foods. Succulent fruits, savory meats, even the tastiest of sweets, the apparition looked almost good enough to eat! Driven forward by a force he could only imagine was the aethereal Bouchard, Adrien plunked himself at the head of the table where he belonged. Each seat was taken up by a familiar face; old family partnerships and new allies he had forged in the time since his father's departure, each offering a broad smile and toast to the puppy prince.

But as Adrien tried to get comfortable in his seat, he felt the coiling presence of Bouchard swirled about the banquet. Black, smoky wisps moved seamlessly across the banquet table, and about the hall, flitting as the tendrils moving plates and goblets, presenting one after another before the head of the table. Despite his apprehension, Adrien found himself unable to resist the savory dishes laid before him, his paws urged to reach out and sample each meal with a ravenous hunger. "It swells my heart to see you sated, my prince," the booming voice of Bouchard crooned as the boy chowed down upon rare delicacies.

But with each bite, each swallow he could not refuse, Adrien began to feel himself swell, his meaty belly groaning as it tented out his pants and stretched his waistline. Coalescing behind the prince's regal throne, the dream-Bouchard couldn't help but moan aloud to himself as he reached around the throne to stroke and rub his pudgy pup. "My, my, so beautifully marbled, my dear. Softened from so many years of doing exactly as I say..." A slow lip-lick crossed Butch's curled smirk, a thin dribble of drool plopping between Adrien's twitchy little ears as he half-leaned, half-strained forwards to pick yet another goblet of wine. Yet just as Adrien's chunky fingers managed to slip about the glass, his eyes glanced up high enough to take in a horrid sight. All about the table, the same familiar faces from the nobility, the army, the merchant class, all sat still and staring towards the prince. Their warm smiles were fully erased, a cold, almost wicked smirk gracing each as they stared back towards their liege with sunken, silhouetted eyes.

Between them, laid in the very center of the banquet table, sat a gorgeous silver platter. Adrien had seen this heirloom for decades, an expensive serving dish brought out only for the largest of feasts. It was often adorned with the most extravagant of dishes, reserved for a bountiful whole roasted hog or several plump turkeys. Yet today, the silver serving platter was adorned with something unusual. The prince's crown sat in the very middle, with plenty of space between it and a pretty fringe of sliced fruits, as if there was an expectation that something large would later be laid upon the platter. "Well, my prince?" Bouchard growled, his smoky form swelling about Adrien, the swirling, sooty vapor choking him as the advisor overwhelmed his dream-addled pup, "It is time for you to assume your duties..."

Startling awake, Adrien gasped as he felt the paralysis of his drug-fueled nightmare wear off. As cool, moist air filled his lungs, he was only vaguely aware of the rough straw and cold stone floor against his fur. As the puppy prince tried to fend off his hangover, he rolled over onto his back. Dull pain was quickly joined by confusion as he quickly realized he was not, in fact, in his quarters. Rough-hewn stone surrounded him on all sides, a simple metal-barred window providing a hint of morning light to illuminate the tiny cell. Somehow, the prince had been dragged from the dining hall and unceremoniously dumped off in the castle's dungeon. Before he could gather the presence of mind to call for help, the sound of a turning key broke the silence, making Adrien acutely aware he was not alone in the darkness of the dungeon. Dusting the chaff off his body, the puppy prince waited nervously as his chamber door was unlocked before him.

"My, my, little pup," the sickly-sweet croon of Bouchard's voice carried through the air, even before the door had fully opened. "You let yourself get a little sloppy last night, didn't you?"

"B- Butch..." Adrien stammered as the imposing wolf stepped into the room, his broad body filling the doorway and towering over the naked, shivering prince. "Wh- What happened?"

"My dear, sweet Prince Adrien..." Butch grinned, stepping forward to rub his chunky paw against his charge's cheek. "It would seem that things are going to be slightly different around Byloth."

"D- Different?" Adrien asked, his face contorting to a pained confusion, headache throbbing as he furrowed his brow. "What happened last night? Why did I... Why am I in the dungeon!"

"My liege, you seemed so happy at last night's banquet," Butch said, smiling broad as he padded closer, reaching out to hug the young prince tight, holding his squishy body close as he said, "I didn't dare tell you the horrid news..." Petting the puppy prince behind the ears, the vizir gave a soft sigh, feigning his care for the little pup as he continued, "There has been a terrible accident."

"An accident?" Adrien mumbled into Butch's chest, puffing up his fur a little.

"The royal steamship, the Valorant. Goodness, it pains me to say... It... It sunk, off the Barrier Peninsula." Butch slowly raked his clawed paws down Adrien's back, a low rumble in his chest as if to simulate the gnashing and rending of steel and wood for the young prince. "Your father... The king... The survivors did not see him escape the wreck..."

Adrien swallowed softly, pressed tight to Butch's chest, as the horrid news hit his ears, soft tears welling up in his eyes. "You... You didn't tell me?"

"To save you the horror, my sweet prince, and give you but one last care-free night..."

One last care-free night... The last words rung soft in the boy's ears as he realized that there was more to it than simply save him from the heartache of learning his father had died, albeit from a hearsay report and mysterious circumstances... "Butch... Does that mean that... Does that mean that I am now-"

A single clawed finger reached out, tapping Adrien on the nose as the prince extricated his head from his advisor's chest fluff. "Ahhhhh yes... And that brings us to why you are here in the dungeon, my," Butch's smirking muzzle cracked open, tongue lapping slow along the sharp rows of gleaming teeth as he finished, "tender prince... I am afraid that you will not ascend to the throne."

"But... But I'm- I am the prince!" Adrien's shock turned to confused anger, the pudgy pup trying to push himself away from his towering regent's grip. "I am of age to ascend, and my father is..." The words caught in his mouth as he clarified, "...was King."

Bouchard chuckled as he held on tight, keeping control of his charge. "I am afraid that I will be the one taking the throne. After you made such a mess of yourself last night, the council unanimously voted that I should succeed our dear, old King..." Before Adrien could react to the confession, frozen with shock that his most trusted advisor was clearly stealing the throne from him, the towering wolf allowed his wandering paws to slide down Adrien's arms. Gripping him firm about the wrist, Butch gave a yank - using the same ferocity he had when the boy's behavior required correcting - and dragged Adrien out from the musty dungeon chamber. "But don't you worry, my tender morsel, there is still a most important place in MY court for you to assume."

Awestruck, Adrien could barely speak, the words not registering in his mind as he shook his head to the left and right, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. All the while, the pampered prince walked barefoot and naked down the quiet halls of the castle, out from the dungeon and up a flight of winding spiral stairs. Each fumbling step, Adrien couldn't help but feel the stillness of the capital. There were no sounds of explosions or fire, just the chill wind whipping past the castle's many turrets and parapets. It had not fully sunk in yet, that his father was gone, let alone the fact that he was being openly usurped by his own council. The people he trusted most of all, who Bouchard had hand-picked to ensure the kingdom remained... Safe while his father was gone...

As the thought rolled in Adrien's mind, the dawning realization of just how far the strings of intrigue were pulled, he felt his trusted advisor give a firm jerk, tugging the pudgy prince off to the right at an intersection. Away from the throne room. Instead, the wolf audibly licked his chops as the pair entered the palace kitchens. The large, vaulted-ceilinged room was oddly empty of the usual bustling staff who worked their magic upon the finest dishes in the land. But it was not entirely empty - gleaming kitchenware, a heavy steel roasting pan and bushels of vegetables lay out on the large central island, the one right before the oversized oven. A whiff of smoke was Adrien's first hint that the behemoth oven was clearly warming, the gentle crackle of freshly lit wood causing his heart to skip a beat.

"Come, my sweet," Bouchard smirked, letting go of his captive for the first time. Turning about, the thick chested wolf curled a finger at the prince. "I expect you to assume your new... duties... with the same proud attitude and smile you've always had." Turning back, he took a step or two towards the back pantry, the doorway taken up by the large wooden washbasin used to prepare chickens for plucking or stubborn cuts of meat that required additional trimming. Butch did not even bother cocking his head back over his shoulder to add, "You used to hate when I spanked you, my sweet prince... I hope I should not need to tell you that if you make this harder than it has to be, I'll have no issue tenderizing you." As if to drive his point home, Butch palmed his fist in his left paw, the dull thud enough to send the prince scurrying after his advisor's heels.

Planting a paw on the naked pup's rump, Bouchard urged Adrien to step into the wash bucket while calmly working to unbutton his clothing. Standing nude, and now wet, before his undressing crush, the puppy prince swallowed hard as he watched his former confidant hang his shirt upon a corner of a storeroom shelf. "B- Butch... This... This all is... You've not told me anything about what is happening," Adrien stammered out at last, his paws reaching down between his thighs to cover the twitching half-chub growing between his legs.

"Have I not, my prince?" As Butch kicked aside his rugged pants, he casually reached out to one of the shelves, producing a wicked knife in his paw. For a second, Adrien froze in abject fear, the horror that he might be slaughtered like a trusting lamb striking his heart. Bouchard's free paw reached out, planting a hefty mitt on the prince's shoulder; his index finger wandered upwards ever so slightly, until he felt the thready and terrified pulse in his boy's neck. "Shhhh... Relax." The firm word only forced Adrien to freeze, a soft exhale leaving his nose as the blade touched just underneath his rounded pec. Kissing the squishy, slightly sagging flesh with the flat of his knife, Butch swiped downwards, a long swath of fur shaved away in a single motion. "I have no intention to cut you." The words did not put the prince at ease, his body shivering softly as Bouchard scraped and swiped away swaths of white and mocha fur. "That would ruin the presentation, would it not?"

It was then that Adrien noticed it. Across the kitchen, sitting on a corner of the countertop. The silver platter, gleaming and freshly polished, lay out and waiting. A few heads of leafy lettuce and fresh fruits sat in a basket beside it, as if someone was thinking far ahead in planning a feast. As the wolf crouched to wash off his blade, the puppy prince finally gathered himself to speak. "B- Butch... Please, Butch, wh- whatever you have planned, we can talk about it..."

"Talk about it? Oh, Adrien, I didn't think you'd be in the mood to discuss it... Mmm... Lift." Patting Adrien's left calf, the prince slipped his leg up onto the side of the washbasin, giving his advisor a chance to grip at the cute boy's hefty thigh. "Oh, how you've grown over these past few years..." Tracing a claw up the tender underside of Adrien's thigh, the wolf needed to swallow hard to hide his drippy, salivating jaws. "What do you reckon you've gained since he left? Eighty pounds? One hundred?" A little smirk crossed the advisor's face as he returned to shaving the ample flesh before him.

"Butch, you... You're talking about me like I'm..."

"Like you're what, my little morsel? I'm simply pointing out how pudgy and plump you've become. Though perhaps it was a foregone conclusion." Teasing the knife all the way down to his toes, Butch couldn't help but add. "You could never resist a second serving when offered."

"Butch, please." Just a little edge caught in the boy's throat. "You... You can't do this to me." His voice cracked as Butch turned his attention to the fuzzy fluff coating the puppy prince's ass, his body quickly becoming as pink as a spring pig. "I... I'll give you the throne, th- the kingdom, anything you want."

"Now why would I want anything like that, my dear? ...hold still." As if to ensure that his victim understood the gravity of his position, Butch reached up to squeeze Adrien's balls firmly, giving them a tug so he could shave down the last little fluff off them. "Mmm... I've spent years making sure you plumpened up to the perfect suckling pig." Cautiously, Butch finished the last of his preparations, leaving Adrien completely shaved from the neck-down, his brown-furred cheeks flush with a nervous blush at being described as a mere suckling pig. "Do you remember that special night? You were crying. You asked me to hold you as the rain fell on the castle. You asked me something in your twilight of sleep..." Coaxing Adrien out of the wash basin, Butch led him dripping and smooth back into the kitchen as he finished. "You asked me what I truly wanted in life. Do you remember what I said?"

"M- Me," Adrien swallowed hard, tears welling in his eyes.

"You." Bouchard planted a soft kiss on his prince's snout, before cruelly adding, "I simply failed to specify..." his voice trailed for but a moment, a paw gently tousling the fuzzy fluff left on Adrien's ear, "Exactly how I wanted you." Butch couldn't suppress his chuckle as he stepped past his captive prince, grabbing a large mixing bowl off the countertop and removing the tea towel that covered it. A fragrant mixture of herbs, spices, and bread softened with meat stock, filled the bowl over the brim. Setting the bowl down on the floor at Adrien's feet, Bouchard flashed his teeth. "I will make you a deal, my prince. I want you on your hands and knees like a filthy pig. I want you to eat every ounce of this bowl using only your mouth. If you are a good boy, and eat it all, then I will consider making you a pet at the foot of my throne."

Globular tears welled in Adrien's eyes as the words rung hollow in his ears. He trusted Bouchard with his life. Worse, with his love. Heart throbbing in his chest, the puppy prince gave one last nervous glance up to his former caretaker, as if to beg that this was all just a joke or some horrible dream. Butch did not even flinch, his attention set solely upon picking the perfect vegetables to accompany his sweet dish out from a burlap sack. There was no need for him to explain what was planned for the prince's beautifully marbled body. Squishing his chubby thighs against his rump, Adrien sunk to the floor, kneeling before the massive mixing bowl. The rough torn bread, studded with thin sliced vegetables and flakes of savory herbs, looked vaguely familiar to the puppy prince. Was it last Wednesday? That fine meal of "hand raised poultry" that Butch so firmly insisted should grace the banquet hall. It was clearly overflowing with the exact same stuffing. Adrien bit his lip as he realized it was all just practice for a far larger goose to cook.

Placing a thick potato down upon the countertop, Butch gave a bemused glance over his shoulder, proud to see his former prince had dropped to his hands and obediently stuffed his muzzle down into the bowl. Like a perfectly trained pet, Adrien begin to eat his way through the overflowing stuffing, every bite punctuated by the rhythmic, yet terrifying, thunk of Butch's chef's knife as it contacted the countertop. Thick root vegetables were quickly reduced to quarters as Bouchard chopped through each one, playfully humming a soft tune to himself as he dumped each hefty pawful into the steep-walled roasting pan. All the while, Adrien wracked his brain to figure out what fleeting options remained, the deposed monarch taking little nibbles to try and draw out what time remained on his steadily ticking clock. He could run, certainly. But in his shape, the hulking advisor would be upon him before he even reached the staircase. Not to mention, if the royal guard had truly abandoned him, there was nowhere left to run.

"I dare say," Bouchard crooned at last, "you look so much better tucked on all fours like that." Sighing, the wolf gave a glance over to his prince before turning back to examine a girthy carrot, contemplating the root before setting the vegetable aside for later. "Do you think you might enjoy being my little pudgy pup? Learn to beg at my feet and entertain my guests... However they may require it?"

Adrien swallowed his pride along with a mouthful of stuffing, before admitting aloud, "I... I would..." Bouchard frowned softly as he set aside his knife, turning to kneel before the humbled royal with a displeasured sigh.

"You aren't very convincing, my sweet prince." Petting between Adrien's fluffy ears, Butch placed a little pressure on the boy's head, shoving his face down into the remaining stuffing. "Good puppies don't use people words." A muffled gasp escaped Adrien's throat just before he realized he had to eat to continue breathing. Bouchard chuckled as his paw curled against Adrien's tender head, scritching the supple flesh as if he were giving his good little dog an encouraging rub. "Just focus on eating every last bite, boy..."

"Gllk!" Adrien's aching stomach nearly turned as he chomped through the gooey stuffing, snout flared as he tried to swallow despite the tummy ache. Pushing through, Adrien gasped as he felt his tongue lap against metal, an accomplished smile crossing the canine's face as he realized he did it. The whole bowl of fresh stuffing safely in his gut, exactly as ordered. Aching but hopeful, Adrien felt Bouchard's paw slip from his head, the pup's face lifting with flecks of parsley and bread marring his look of nervous expectation. Yet the prince's cheeks tinted green as he watched Butch set a small, yet not insignificant, bowl of stuffing down in front of him. Already feeling the taught filling unable to churn in his gut, Adrien had to fight the urge to gag as his advisor gave him a soft pet under the chin.

"Silly me, there was a little bit left over." Gripping Adrien by the neck, the wolf smirked as he dipped his paw into the bowl, palming a small handful of stuffing on his pawtips. "But you were never one to turn down a second helping, were you?" As if to drive the point home, Butch squeezed tight under his prince's jaw, forcing the boy to open wide enough for him to shove two digits worth of stuffing into his gullet. Slowly, with the same sensual stroke one might suck on a lover's fingers, Adrien was made to swallow down the thick bolus of stuffing, each little addition causing his engorged belly to tighten like a drum. "That's a good boy, eat it all up. You've been so good." A second helping slipped into Adrien's mouth, then a third, each time taking more and more input from Bouchard to force down his throat. By the time the last bit of stuffing was finished, the puppy prince could barely kneel upright, his groaning form leaning against the wolf's body for support as tears softly rolled down his face.

"P- Please... I... I did what..." Swallowing hard to prevent himself from losing any of the stuffing, Adrien pressed his face against Butch's firm shoulder. "W- What you asked. Please d- don't"

"Dry those tears, my little suckling pig..." The wolf chuckled as he planted his paws firmly on the boy's rump and back, lifting him off the floor as he stood. "If you don't, the oven will do it for you soon enough." Before Adrien could squirm, the betrayal affirmed with but a single sentence, Butch had deposited his prized porker down upon the hefty roasting pan. Laid amongst chopped carrots, quartered potatoes, and hunks of onion, the puppy prince was positioned face-down in the roaster on his paws and knees. Butch's firm grip confirmed every suspicion that he could easily overpower Adrien; with one paw planted on the boy's back, he was able to manipulate the pup's wrists behind his back, looping stout cooking twine into a solid box tie. Once secured, the burly wolf wrangled Adrien's thighs, tucking his knees to his rounded gut before securing him with rope, making sure to give an extra tug to ensure the boy's legs dug into his overstuffed belly. "Surely by now you understand, my dear," Butch began as he watched his captive squirm, "That I've always had my eyes upon the throne."

With his snout pointed towards the massive stone hearth, Adrien couldn't see what Butch was doing. Yet he could feel the contemplation in emanating off his captor. The way Bouchard held his muzzle in his paw, gently tapping a single claw-tipped digit in contemplation as he examined the succulent roast. "There were so many opportunities for me to take what was mine," the wolf monologued sloud, his words accented by a fibrous thunk as the canine worked on something much larger this time. "Perhaps it would have been easier had I simply made you disappear on a long walk by the river or smothered you in your sleep." Adrien groaned as he felt himself lifted from behind, a firm and rounded object shoved between his belly and thighs. He couldn't see it, of course, but the halved pumpkin was just the right shape and size to prop up the prince's pert rump, while beautifully framing his squirming paws, dangling balls and regal little cock. "But my dear, a little attention is simply worth the effort. One could toss a whole ham into the oven, and it would be edible..." Butch chuckled as he teased a single claw over Adrien's perked ass, his fingertip dangerously close to the boy's clenched pucker. "But with the right glaze, and a little garnish, it can fulfill its purpose of stealing the center of the table... As you will soon."

Turning his attention from his beautiful roast, Butch hunted about for a bottle of oil while listening carefully for his prince's reaction. He wasn't sure exactly how his banquet-to-be would react, and the anticipation sent shivers down his spine. The answer came in the form of a soft sniffle, a half-stammer that morphed into a terrified sob, intermittent pleas drowned out by an outpouring of raw emotion. So much trust, so many yeas carefully curating the young prince's infatuation; it all came crashing down, boiled over into pure horror. As Bouchard poured some glistening oil over his paws, rubbing them together to warm the oil up in an ironically kind gesture, his muzzle cracked into a broad grin as he listened to the puppy prince finally break.

"Butch, I- I..." Stammering between blubbering whimpers and sharp inhales, Adrien tugged futilely at his bonds as the wolf's hefty mitts pressed down upon his back and shoulders. Any other time this treatment might amount to a sensual rub, perhaps even some foreplay. But with each stroke and massaging grope Butch left a sheen of fragrant, herb-infused oil over his little meal, helping tick down the clock with each passing swipe of his paws. "I tru- trusted you..." Bouchard's ears perked as he heard those words escape his prince's mouth. Before he had even finished, Adrien got to watch a chunky lupine paw reach out across the table to grip a tender, honeycrisp apple. "I- I loved y-"

Reaching his free paw around Adrien's head, the wolf wormed two digits between the prince's jaws, forcing him to open wide at the sudden intrusion. A pang of pain rocked Adrien's body, causing his drum-taught belly to churn. Tendons in his jaw and neck stretched and ached, nearly snapping as the apple forced its way inside, coming to a rest just behind his cute little canines and pinning his tongue to the bottom of his mouth. Pouching out his cheeks, Adrien instinctively bit down in pain, locking the apple in place. A reassuring pat on his head was accompanied by a single, cold comment from Bouchard. "You talk too much for meat."

Back to humming his gentle tune, the usurper finished his preparations with a zeal he had never shown before. Bouchard even found it in him to dance, flowing from one side of the pan to the other as he finished stroking oil into every crevice, every step accompanied by a muffled, panicked squeal from the deposed suckling pig. Ensuring every spot, from shoulders to paw-pads, was carefully oiled and slick, the triumphant regicide gave one last look over his prized dish. "You are gorgeous, my tender porker." Stepping around the side of his boy's face, Butch lowered his muzzle till it was nearly in line with the sniveling, tear-stained prince's face. "My dear Adrien, I know this all must come as quite the shock to you... But if it makes you feel any better, I did always love you." The words stabbed hard into the prince's heart, the horror of his treatment juxtaposed with the gentle words of tenderness. Drawing out a length of aluminum foil, Butch used his fingers to carefully wrap and crimp the delicate metal about the prince's ears and other sensitive spots. "I loved these rosy, chubby cheeks... That warm smile as you gazed upon me... The way your ears twitched whenever I said your name... So as my final promise to you, my dear," Butch stepped back with a nod, pleased at having covered the prince's ears and scalp with foil, "I will ensure that these features do not burn, so I may enjoy them as I fondly remember them."

The final twist of the knife accomplished, Bouchard turned back towards the massive oven just opposite his prince's head. Despite spending little time in the royal kitchens as an adult, Adrien was intimately familiar with the gorgeously crafted, cast-iron oven. Intricately designed with artisanal silver inlay decorating the door, Adrien remembered spending hours in the kitchen as a young pup, mindlessly mentally tracing the contours and whorls of the oven door while awaiting his favorite maple-pecan plaits to finish baking. Instead of the old hotbox opening to reveal his beloved dessert, the door creaked open to reveal an empty, and seething hot, interior. With every rack removed, the oven's warm embrace awaited its sole inhabitant. Fanning himself for dramatic effect, Butch turned his attention back to the sniveling prince as he gripped the roasting pan handle.

"Please, my sweet Adrien, don't be mad at me..." Bouchard crooned, his muscles straining to pull the hefty metal pan towards the precipice, no care given as the heavy iron scraped and squealed against the countertop. "I promise you will be the talk of my coronation banquet." Adrien's muffled grunts and struggles halted the moment his face crossed the Rubicon, a wall of seething hot air smothering the boy's breath in his snout. Butch's heart leapt in his chest as he saw the prince's eyes open wide in sudden panic, clenching tight but a moment after, before his head disappeared into the far back of the oven. Positioning his future meal just right of center, Bouchard took but a moment to watch how his puppy prince reacted to his own private sauna. For a moment, the boy remained perfectly still, in shock at his predicament. That panic quickly melted as Adrien reacted to the horrid heat swelling about his body, clenching his toes, squirming his paws, even bucking his hips despite the overwhelming pressure filling his gut. Just as the first little whines echoed from within the old cast iron oven, Bouchard closed the heavy door with a single, loud thunk, the locking metal latch ringing in Adrien's tender, foil-wrapped ears.

Adrien had tried his bonds before being tucked in to roast. Tugging this way and that only managed to squish his rotund stomach and send pangs of ache through his distended gut. But now, the need to escape the roiling heat all about his stuffed and oiled body became the only point of focus he had. Cast into the darkness of the oven's depths, the prince couldn't even wait for his eyes to adjust in the pitch black before he was forced to close them due to the sweltering heat. A gentle scraping, as Bouchard stoked the firebox with fresh wood, drowned out Adrien's first panicked whimpers, hot tears rolling down his cheeks as he wordlessly moaned for mercy. Having failed to escape Bouchard's grip before he entered the oven, Adrien quickly realized his options disappeared as each second ticked down. At first, he desperately yanked at the rope in a futile attempt to dislodge it. That plan soon devolved to fruitless squirms in whatever direction wasn't the hottest, his fattened and marbled body shifting the veggies about with each terrified movement.

It was only then, as sniveling sobs escaped the prince's muzzle, that the boy's foil-wrapped ears wiggled at the sound of the oven door's latch throwing. With a low creak, the oven door opened with a groan, the same way one might open the door to peek on a dish's progress. Desperation overwhelmed Adrien's heat-addled mind, sweat beading off his face as he tried to lift his head, calling backwards with muffled grunts and incoherent pleas. Surely Bouchard had a change of heart? Or perhaps this was a mock execution? He wouldn't possibly cook his beloved prince to death in the royal kitchen?

"Mmmm..." The wolf crooned softly to himself as he inhaled a slow and deep whiff for effect. "I know you are accustomed to having your own, private chambers." A scraping creak caught in Adrien's ears, causing the puppy prince to force a blink, trying to clear his eyes of the flood of tears. Despite the pain, Adrien turned his attention to the left, just in time to see a single, gorgeous pastry slid into the oven alongside his roasting pan. It was his favorite, a soft and flaky maple plait, the well-worked dough twisted into a mesmerizing knot, studded with crunchy pecans, and overflowing with cinnamon sugar. "However, you have said this pastry is your favorite. It's only fair that you should bake alongside it." Butch chuckled to himself as he gripped the oven door, readying to close it, before suddenly exclaiming, "Ah! Silly me, my dear... I nearly forgot something VERY important!" For a brief moment, the usurper disappeared from the oven door, allowing Adrien a chance to cry out loud, his voice echoing out the open door.

Yet when he returned, Bouchard was clearly not preparing to remove the prince from his torture. Instead, there was simply a weirdly slick noise emanating from the wolf's paw. Adrien, of course, could not see what was happening behind him. But as the specifically saved carrot, lubricated with just a little oil, pressed up against the boy's tender ass, Adrien's final desperate bid for clemency ended with a horrified yelp. "There we are," the wolf crooned as he forced the long, bulbous length into his deposed prince's tender hole. "Shhhh... breathe... breathe..." The words hung hollow in Adrien's mind as each breath also scorched his lungs. Forcing the thick root all the way inside, leaving only the little sprig of green dangling down against Adrien's balls, Butch gave a contented sigh, "You should have no problem handling it, it's not nearly as big as I am, my dear." A perturbed grunt in response spurred the canine to give one final parting comment as he swung the door closed. "I understand it is not to your usual comfort, Prince Adrien. But give it a little time, I should suppose you will be of a far different disposition in an hour or two..." Leaving but a crack to the oven door, Bouchard added with a cold and final comment, "Do try and think delicious thoughts."

Whimpering, Adrien closed his eyes tight once more, the intruding carrot incessantly prodding against the boy's tender prostate with each clench of his tight little ass. That was when the former-prince felt it, not just the first gentle sear of oil snapping against his naked flesh, but also the first sensation of his own tears sizzling against his face.

"Esteemed guests of the Byloth court," a curly-tailed husky clad in fine uniform tapped his knife against his glass to gather attention, holding his drink aloft as he peered over the crowd of regal guests. "I would like to extend a toast to our dear Prince Adrien, who made tonight's celebration of our King Bouchard possible." With a smirk, the husky casually extended his paw towards the center of the banquet table, licking his lips as he added, "I would like to, but it would seem he has already had plenty of time to toast on his own accord."

The cheeky comment brought the table's attention to the guest of honor, all those regal names and faces who had attended in Adrien's dream cast their eyes towards the prince to pay their respect to their liege. Of course, Adrien was not in a place to accept their praise; his eyes did not seem to even acknowledge what was said. That might have been due to the fact that two thick and juicy pineapple slices were laid over each eye socket, covering his sunken eyes in a festive little garnish. Indeed, the rest of the prince's body lay quiet upon his heirloom serving platter, juices welled up around his wonderfully crisp skin. Surrounded by leafy greens, and nestled in amidst roasted vegetables and ripened fruit, Adrien struck a beautiful form at the new king's table, despite the fact he was less than talkative.

In fact, Adrien's appearance at King Bouchard's coronation banquet had made quite the impact upon his noble court. At least upon their waistlines. Served like a whole roasted suckling pig, Adrien's body was kept mostly together, but by this point in the evening he had graced the plates and palettes of so many guests. To this end, the puppy prince's thick haunches were carved out from under him, with thin slices fanned out to create a gorgeous presentation. Someone had also cut in just under the boy's succulent belly, freeing tender spareribs while opening up Adrien's abdomen to allow the over-steamed stuffing to flow out the opening they'd created. All the while, Bouchard sat at the head of the table, keeping close eyes upon the slow disassembly of his tender prince's meaty body.

As he watched a famed merchant, whilst carrying on a conversation with a noble socialite, work on wrenching one of Adrien's arms from its socket, Butch couldn't help but realize that his hunger was getting the better of him. Up until now, the usurper king's plan was to nibble at appetizers and savor some of the fine hundred-year wine pilfered from the royal cellars, while he ensured the members of his court ate of the erstwhile prince to solidify their fealty to their new leader. There was no doubt among the carefully curated members of the conspiracy; those who joined the new king in his coronation knew that they would be complicit in the prince's demise. But now that the first course had finished, the peckish regicide decided it was time to share in the meal.

With a smoldering smirk, Bouchard stood from his throne, descending the short distance to the banquet table. Clicking his claws upon the banquet table, Butch let a rumble well in his chest as he addressed his former charge.

"My sweet," Butch whispered under his breath, trying not to draw attention, yet unable to stop himself from making a comment aloud, "You are the talk of the kingdom tonight." Planting a chunky paw upon a laid-aside knife, Butch chuckled under his breath as he contemplated the grease-stained blade. "My kingdom to be exact." Handling the carving fork with his remaining hand, Bouchard contemplated which cut he might savor first.

"My Liege," a bright and bubbly caribou struck a bow before his new king, before approaching him at the banquet table. "A most wonderful coronation, and a new chapter in the history of our fair kingdom."

"Ahhh, yes," Butch grinned, offering a gesture with his occupied paws before adding, "I am proud to usher in a new dynasty, and a new era for our people. Far more than the whelp prince might have offered."

"Indeed, my king... A poor leader, but a gorgeous roast." With a chuckle, the caribou watched as Butch returned his focus to deciding on a cut. "Have you had a slice yet tonight? The kitchen staff deserve high praise for the job they did preparing him."

"I shall be sure to tell them," a bemused smirk cracked over Bouchard's face, knowing full well it was he who had a hand in the prince's preparation. Finally making his decision, the wolf pierced the two-tined fork into Adrien's tender rump. After giving a moment for the clear juices to well up from the succulent meat, Butch carefully began to carve into the boy's tender ass. Each slice cut through greasy, marbled flesh down to bone, before the new king lifted his knife and fork to repeat the process. Again, and again, he fanned out the tender cuts of meat, until at long last, Butch made a single horizontal cut to the whole stack in order to free the hefty chunk of flesh from Adrien's rump. Using the flat of his blade, Bouchard placed the pile upon a free plate. "Tonight's dish was something quite special," he added over his shoulder to the caribou. Placing a few roasted vegetables next to the prince's tender rump, the same one that just an hour prior quivered against his touch, King Bouchard added, "He was hand-reared, perfectly fattened and finished."

With a little grin, Butch reached across the table, just behind the steaming roast. A single pastry lay practically hidden between his two toe-curled paws. Placing the maple plait upon his plate, right next to the prince's tender flesh, the king gave a final parting comment to his fellow regicide. "Mmm... I am famished though, I fear I will not be able to refuse a second helping."

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