Disclaimer:This story is based on characters and situations created by JRR Tolkien/Others and owned by whoever may hold the rights in this very moment you're reading this, various publishers and their corporate affiliates. All recognisable characters/situations/events happening are copyrighted by their respective owners. No money is being made from this fic and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This is just a parody (and therapy for the author (*^‿^*)), solely written for entertainment purposes.

A/N: Gift fic for my lovely Doitsuki. ღ( ゝ◡╹)ノ

A few general warnings/annotations for all my dear Thrandolas shippers:

My naughty headcanon regarding the special anatomy of Elves (Penile Spines, Knotting and more, as established in 'Royal Bonding Time'. See fic for further details.) applies here as well.

This story caters to a row of rather rare and delicate kinks that might not be every reader's cup of tea. Hence, heed the tags, please!

If you're offended by obesity, you better skip both this tale and the digital art it includes. Again, heed the tags. They're there for a reason.

Lines it italics are thoughts.

NO KINK SHAMING! ノ(ಠ_ಠ)ノ

A version including digital art can be found on AO3: archiveofourown DOT org/works/6325732

*** Flashback, two months earlier ***

A warm summer breeze gently blew away the last vestiges of spring in the airy halls, leaving every elf in the kingdom of Mirkwood joyous and happy.

Well, not every elf, that is.

In the otherwise empty kitchen stood the Elven King, tall and grumpy, impatiently tapping his fingers on the worktop's stony surface. Unaffected by the tantalising aroma of freshly baked pastries, biscuits and a vast variety of other heavenly baked goods, he waited for his jet black brew to finish, watching the ominous, viscous mass simmer until it converted into a tiny bit of smooth, honey-like liquid. Thranduil's sour mood lifted when he dribbled the bowl's content onto one of the sweets he had at the ready. Briefly glancing around to make sure he was still alone, Thranduil shuddered at the cringeworthy wording of the incantation. Though the spell rooted from ancient dark magic, he had to alter it a bit to make it work for his purposes:

"Let gluttony seep through

to form his body all anew.

What once was lithe will now be stout

your sweetness dissipate all doubt.

Now turn pink to tempt my boy

to savour every bite with joy.

So when he breaks the crunchy crust

crumble will his vain disgust.

And he'll surrender to my lust."

Magic whirled about, making the icing glow in a sparkling, purplish pink. Thranduil grinned contentedly. 'Legolas will never be able to resist such a treat.'

As if on cue, the prince poked his head around the door, obviously decoyed by the irresistible smell. "Ada? Now what are you doing here?" He asked, rather baffled to find his father in the kitchen, with no servants present and oddly enough, admiring a cupcake. A very yummy looking cupcake. "Where is everybody?"

Thranduil spun around, cautiously placing the little cake on a plate. "Good morning to you too, ion-nîn." He reprimanded his nosy son before adding nonchalantly. "I've sent them outside to prepare breakfast in the gardens."

"Ah, I see." Legolas replied with his mouth watering, intently eying the intriguing sweet on his father's plate. "Ummmm...that looks just delicious. I've never seen anything like it!"

Feigning ignorance, Thranduil smiled and politely offered the bait to his drooling son. "It most certainly is, my dear. Care for a bite?" He cooed, chuckling triumphantly to himself as he watched Legolas put the whole cupcake away greedily.

༻✨❀✨༺

*** Present, in Thranduil's chambers ****

It was already late afternoon when Thranduil tip-toed into his darkened bedroom, balancing a tray on one hand and locking the door securely shut behind him with the other. Only a few wayward rays of sunlight illuminated the King's pretentious private chambers - and the enormous fatty that currently lay sound asleep in the Elvenking's bed. Each time he exhaled, the bed creaked under the slightest shifting of his weight, sending shivers of gleeful anticipation down the King's spine. Thranduil silently set the tray down on the bedside table and slipped out of his robes, careful not to rouse suspicion and wake his obscenely plump son.

Divesting himself of the remainder of his regal clothing, the King slipped under the covers and spooned up lovingly behind Legolas. A suppressed groan escaped the older elf when he found himself instinctively groping the mass of spare tyres that now grazed the formerly lean prince. 'I really should have thought of this earlier.'

In retrospect, he probably really should have but he loved his son so dearly, he simply couldn't bring himself to ruin Legolas' life solely for the sake of his own illicit, incestuous cravings. It was just when the prince had informed him of his plans of leaving the realm this summer, eager to see the world, experiencing thrilling adventures and all that other nonsense young people dreamed of doing that forced the overprotective King's hand so Thranduil kept telling himself that Legolas had brought his fate upon himself.

Hence, whilst the past two months the prince had transformed into a super fat lump at alarming speed, leaving Legolas exasperated and the courtly healers utterly perplexed. They couldn't find any plausible cause for this odd disease, thus ended up claiming it was some sort of rare metabolic disorder. Little did they know about the evil magic the King had applied on his beautiful son, and neither did Legolas. At first, the other Elves had just been curious. There had never been an ample specimen in all Elven history, after all. But when Legolas had put on so much weight he couldn't even walk by himself anymore, spending most of his day with eating and sleeping people became...repulsed. Respectfully though mind you, he was still the crown prince and Thranduil's subjects were well aware of the fact that they would easily risk their immortal lives if they spoke their mind. Thus, although not actively bullied, Legolas was shunned and grew increasingly lonely. It was only a matter of time until Thranduil unavoidably became the centre of Legolas' little world as he was still showering him with affection and love despite the prince's grotesque physique.

"Wakey wakey, ion-nîn [my son]." Thranduil whispered, tenderly nibbling on Legolas' earlobe. "Time for a little snack."

Legolas woke gently from his slumber, the promise and heady smell of food too promising to be ignored. Blinking sleepily, he snuggled closer against the naked form of his beloved Ada without being too alarmed as a hot, semi-hard cock insinuated itself between the swell of his fat rolls. "Sounds promising."

"Want Daddy to feed you?" Thranduil purred seductively and reached for the tray, picking a pastry that oozed with honey. He brought it to Legolas' mouth who obediently parted his lips in wordless consent. The prince greedily consumed the sticky treat, dutifully lapping away the remnants of honey that had started to dribble lazily down the King's elegant digits. Although probably not intended by the younger elf, his suggestive action did not miss it's ambiguous effect on Thranduil. The King simply could not ignore the tingle of excitement that was starting to creep into his loins as he watched Legolas lick his fingers clean so prettily, his azure blue eyes half-lidded and shimmering with restraint as he patiently waited for his flabby son to finish his task.

"Ouch," Legolas suddenly gave a pained hiss, his stubby fingers coming to cup the mass of his ample, flabby man-breasts. "My breast hurt like hell!" He whined and Thranduil was momentarily distracted from his lewd train of thought.

Petting Legolas' hair fondly the King then crooned, his voice rich with growing desire. "Let me take care of that, melethron [my Beloved]."

Heavily breathing, Legolas was rolled onto his back and straddled by Thranduil who gave a throaty grunt. The King couldn't help but love the glazed look of his son's dilated pupils gazing up at him, so grateful and doubtlessly betraying the prince's growing excitement.

The bouncy feeling of the wobbly being underneath him fuelled the ancient elf's aching arousal, the impressive barbed spikes that usually lay flat along his impressive length now engorged with blood and jutting out proudly.

The King slowly traced the curve of Legolas' breasts, watching the pinkish peaks harden into tight little buds as he fondled them, squeezing their fullness as he flicked his manicured thumbs over the sensitive nipples. Legolas whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasured agony when Thranduil finally lowered his head to one of them, closing his hot mouth over it. The King nibbled and suckled expertly at his son's puffy, swollen breast, drinking the sweet, milky nectar that caused Legolas so much discomfort. Apart from his newly chubby form, Legolas had indeed begun to lactate as a side effect of his father's scheming black magic, leaving the prince's breasts heavy and almost bursting with the most intoxicating of liquids any elf had ever tasted. Much to his father's perverted delight, of course. Naturally, the privilege of relieving his son that way was reserved for the King only and thereby the taste of his son's sweet essence...

"Hmmmmmm..." Legolas threw his head back, moaning desperately when Thranduil's mouth moved to the other breast, giving it the same sinful treatment.

"No, look at me, Legolas." Thranduil demanded with a silken growl, letting the rigid bud pop out from between his lips. "I want you to remember who's doing this for you."

'You're mine and mine alone. Forever!' Thranduil thought to himself triumphantly, his perfect, pearly white teeth skimming along the younger elf's throat. Many love bites, all in various states of healing, grazed the prince's body as Thranduil was very insistent on marking his territory. Once again he sank his teeth into Legolas' skin, breaking the soft skin and therewith allowing for yet another passion mark to bloom soon.

"Aye, Ada." Legolas' eyes flew open, obediently locking on his Adar's. "I owe you so much, I love you." The prince replied hoarsely, revelling in his father's demanding touch.

Thranduil was right. It was his beloved father who was doing this for him, taking away the pain of his sickening breasts and granting him release that no elleth nor ellon would ever bring to the young elf. Legolas had been effectively brainwashed into believing that he would remain persona non grata for the rest of his immortal life, socially excluded and shunned with no choice in intimate partners whatsoever. Admittedly, Legolas had been shocked to the core at Thranduil's initial, unmistakably sexual advances. But after listening to a row of disarmingly pellucid arguments on the side of his father, the devastated prince had given in, his youthful naïvity allowing for him to be tricked into buying the lie that the Elven King was devotedly and sacrificially attended to the younger elf's every need for the prince's sake and not in favour of Thranduil's own twisted desires...

The King returned Legolas' declaration of love, starting to whisper sweet nothings and naughty promises into the prince's ear. His bejewelled hand snaked downwards, reaching under the immense bulge that was Legolas' tummy to fondle his angry red elfhood that stood no chance of lifting its purple head against the sheer mass of flesh burying it.

"You like me touching you, don't you, ion-nîn?" Thranduil breathed, the corner of his mouth twitching victoriously as Legolas' little shaft instantly began to respond to his touch, eliciting a strangled mewl of pleasure from the prince. "YESSSSSSSSSS!"

Another delicious thrill shot through the trembling prince when Thranduil began to shift the foreskin back and forth, caressing the sensitive, adolescent nubs that would one day grow into impressive spikes like those of the Elven King. Thranduil vigilantly observed the younger elf's every reaction as he twiddled him, aiming for his dear son's utmost pleasure.

Meanwhile, Legolas had worked himself into a sensual frenzy, bucking his hips helplessly best his weight allowed, writhing with need and shamelessly begging for release. Thranduil had pity on the prince, delving a fingernail slightly into the tiny slit that was leaking with precum and thereby granting the younger elf a phenomenal orgasm, pleased to hear his name on Legolas' lips when he came.

Tiny beads of sweat, another side-effect since Elves usually couldn't sweat at all, ran down Legolas' temples while he slowly came down from his high, utterly spent. Again, Thranduil had watched the prince intently all the while lazily stroking himself, his patience starting to wear thin as his own straining erection was demanding attention.

"Now be a good boy for your Ada and turn around, will you? Hands and knees." Came Thranduil's imperious drawl, eyes hazy with lust. The command was soft but indicated there was no room for argument, so Legolas sluggishly did as he was bidden once his father had dismounted him. The prince awkwardly offered his buttocks for the King to use, his little puckered hole twitching in expectation of his doubtlessly rough claiming.

Sex while he lay on his back had become close to impossible and painful for the prince, his fat rolls getting in the way all the time, so more often than not he found himself in his current, humiliating position. Blushing, Legolas wondered if Thranduil were capable of ordering a few servants to keep his adipose folds out of the way to grant the King access once he'd grown tired of kneading the supple flesh himself... Legolas had never been any the wiser that it was just said supple flesh that brought the King great joy; basis for the very, very rare kink the older elf indulged in so lustfully.

With a sharp intake of breath, Thranduil ran his hands down the back of Legolas's pliant buttocks, kneading it thoroughly. Dugging his fingers into them, he mashed the prince's bum cheeks together, sliding his swollen length back and forth between them and over his rectum. Savouring the delicious friction for a while he then reached out to grasp the awaiting flask that sat on the bedside table. The heady, odorous lavender liquid trickled down Legolas' cleft as his quivering entrance was coated copiously. Being scissored open was not necessary due to earlier penetration only hours ago, so Thranduil settled for running his tongue over the prince's butthole a few times. He was rewarded with a breathless string of obscenities uttered by the younger blonde who squealed at the feeling of that hot, searing muscle against his most intimate part. Legolas' breathing hitched, his thighs starting to thrash when he felt Thranduil parting his cheeks with one hand, aligning himself with the other. Grasping his hips, thus holding Legolas securely in place, the King pushed himself into his panting son unceremoniously, the spines raking along Legolas' inner walls deliciously. Thranduil groaned in delight when the prince's sphincter muscles started twitching and tightening around his cock, there was no holding back any longer.

Eyes closed in bliss, Thranduil began to plunge inside of the writhing prince, sending jolts of pleasure rush through him. Legolas emitted little screams each time the King slammed his huge shaft into him viciously, hitting that sweet spot inside his tight channel on purpose. Thranduil's pale body flexing over him in all his ethereal beauty while mingled, unrestrained moans of sheer bliss and tortured whimpers reverberated from the stone walls, leaving Legolas bouncing helplessly under Thranduil's unrelenting stroke.

The prince couldn't understand the incoherent babbling that fell from his Ada's lips, the lewd sound of balls slapping against his chubby ass having a hypnotising effect on him as he headed for yet another glorious peak. Burrying himself balls-deep into his son's jiggling form one last time, Thranduil let out a choked groan as his convulsive release wracked his body with desire. His fingernails dug so deeply into Legolas's hips for him to draw blood when the knot at the base of Thranduil's length expanded, trapping his thick shaft in the contracting vise of Legolas' pulsing heat, milking the King of the last bit of copious load he had to give and thereby staked claim of his precious heir once again.

Collapsing on the exhausted prince, Thranduil flopped back on the bed, still connected with Legolas due to the nature of the knot that wouldn't allow them to part for at least half an hour. With a distinct smile of satisfaction on his angular face and not minding the pleasant cock warming at all, the King wrapped his arms around his son's plump body and drew the covers over them. He then softly nuzzled the shell of Legolas' pointy ear.

"I will never grow tired of that, my love. You're the light of my life." Thranduil said with silky smoothness that made Legolas's heart swoon. Yawning contentedly, the prince snuggled into his father's chest, slowly drifting off to sleep.

'And now that I finally have you, I will never let you go.' Thranduil smiled to himself wickedly, playing with a tendril of Legolas' flaxen hair before he too let sleep claim him. 'Ever.'

*･゜ﾟ･✿･゜ﾟ･*

A/N: I'd be happy to learn what you think. (｡^‿^｡) Kudos and comments very welcome.