Enormous Empress Azula (Incomplete)
The air was red. The fire burned. High above, the blazing second sun of Sozin’s Comet shone in the sky, blotting out the true sun’s light. Down below, in the courtyard rimmed in dark red roofs and gray stones, the two combatants gasped for breath. Sweat trickled down both their panting faces.
Rolling to a stop in the dirt, Azula crawled to her feet. Her feeble topknot had come undone, and her hair, slashed and cut with crude, haphazard scissor work, drooped down her face. She panted. Her golden eyes were glassy. Hazy. Unfocused.
Zuko stepped forward. Much less wearied. Much more in command. He called out: “No lightning today?” He allowed himself, amid all this ruin and tragedy, a hint of a smile. And he assumed a ready stance. “What’s the matter? Afraid I’ll redirect it?”
Azula gesticulated wildly, slender and slightly-muscled arms flailing around her. “Oh,” she snarled, sounding feral, “I’ll show you lightning!” And with her pointed nails practically scraping the dirt, she began to do the motions she had done a hundred, a thousand, a hundred thousand times before. Her messy hair flailed wildly as the blue sparks crackled to life in the air around her.
Zuko assumed his stance. He was ready. He’d been ready. This was it. The moment he had waited for, for his entire life.
But Azula, in the midst of the finishing touches of the cold-blooded fire, glanced to the side. Her hazy eyes, for a moment, regained a hint of their old sharpness, and she saw past her brother. Behind him.
To a figure clad in blue, who had stepped out into the midst of the battlefield.
And Azula smiled a crazed smile, and shifted her stance, and instead of aiming the lightning at her brother, she aimed it past him. Behind him.
Right at Katara.
Zuko saw the bolt begin, now pointedly not aimed at him. Time seemed to slow down. He glanced over his shoulder. He saw Katara there.
“Noooo!” he shouted, running with all his speed to the space between the lightning and his friend. He hastily, desperately tried to remember the way to move his hands, to position his legs.
Zuko ran.
He ran.
He ran.
He made it to the lightning bolt and stepped into its path.
And in a thousand other universes, a thousand other times, a thousand other tellings, he might have been able to successfully redirect the lightning bolt, or at least disperse its full power.
But not in this one.
Instead, it hit him at full force in the chest, and blasted an explosion of fire and blood out his back, along with thick black smoke.
Zuko gurgled.
He hit the ground.
He did not move again, and there was the smell of burning flesh.
Katara gaped. Tears ran down her cheeks. “No… no!” she ran, haltingly, towards Zuko, lying on the ground, smoke still billowing from his back. “No, Zuko! No! This can’t be how it ends!” She ran straight at him. “This can’t be—”
Another lightning bolt hit her square in the chest, and she, too, had an explosion of fire and blood out her back.
And Katara, as well, toppled to the ground, and did not get up again.
Azula sat there, trembling, her golden eyes glassy and unfocused again. She burbled an indistinct noise; a trickle of drool came out of the front of her mouth. But her full lips worked, and, at last, she spoke: “I… I did it?” Then those lips curled in a terrible smile. “I did it! I did it I did it I did it I DID IT! I’m the best! I win! I win, Zuzu! You hear me?! I win forever!” And she threw back her head and laughed, a horrible high-pitched shrieking laugh that clapped off the burning stone. Azula laughed and laughed and laughed, laughing until tears streaked down her face. Whether those tears were of laughter or sadness, no one knew, including herself.
At last, the mad laughter died down, and Azula tittered a girlish giggle. “Welp! So much for that. Now, ehehe, back to business.” With the same jittering, incoherent steps as before, Azula lilted herself back to the steps of the coronation pavilion. The Fire Sages, who had been fearfully watching the entire Agni Kai and its aftermath, came slinking out of the shadows of the dark red pillars, looking rather like red beetles. “Well, come on!” said Azula, waving a hand around drunkenly. “Let’s get back to it!” And she knelt down, trembling fists clenched on top of her thighs. As a last-minute thought, she hastily attempted to redo her topknot, tying a messy bun of hair atop her head.
The Fire Sages looked at each other. As one, they shrugged their shoulders. Then the lead sage stepped forward, as if the last twenty minutes or so simply had not happened. He raised the crown, the gleaming golden hairpiece styled like flames, over Azula’s head. “By decree of Phoenix King Ozai, I now crown you: Fire Lord Azula!”
And he placed the hairpiece within the deranged-looking topknot. Somehow, it stayed in place. Azula felt its weight.
And she smiled, crazed, a wide, wide smile, and her eyes bulged, and her pupils were small. “It’s… done. It’s done!” she rose to her feet and cackled. “Ehehehehehehe, done done done done done done done!” She whirled about, swaying drunkenly as the crown wobbled in her hair. She eyed the Fire Sages and pointed a jerky finger at them. “Now, as my first decree, your new Fire Lord commands you—”
“Princess Azula!”
She whirled about, along with the sages. A man in a general’s uniform was hurrying towards them, with two members of the Royal Elite Firebenders flanking him as an escort. Azula, even in her crazed mind, recognized him as General Honda, one of her father’s most trusted military men. She smiled, too wide. “Ahah, ehehe, general, how marvelous. How goes my father’s glorious conquest of the Earth Kingdom?”
“Well, Princess, you see—ah! You’ve been crowned.” He bowed low, as did the firebenders behind him. “Well, ah, then, Fire Lord Azula, my l—er, your majesty, I guess.”
“Get on with it, if you please,” said Azula, swirling a hand around.
“Well, your majesty, it’s… it’s a disaster!” Honda was trembling slightly; Azula didn’t notice, she was trembling herself in her mania. “Your father, His Majesty The Phoenix King, he… the Avatar appeared to challenge him! They fought!”
“Maaaarvelous!” preened Azula, waving a hand about. “I assume my glorious father made short work of that impetuous brat!”
“Well… you see, your majesty… they’re dead. They’re both dead.”
Azula stopped trembling. She stood stock still. Her eyes went wide. “W-W-W-Whattt?” she slurred.
“Your Majesty, the Avatar was killed by your father in the fight, but… with a parting shot… a lightning bolt… the Avatar managed to kill… your father, the Phoenix King, with his final act alive. Both the Avatar and Phoenix King Ozai are… dead.”
Azula stood there, trembling. She shivered and her teeth chattered. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused. Her mind was gone. She looked with jerking head motions out at the courtyard, where faint wisps of smoke still came from the two corpses. Azula trembled. She shook. Her teeth chattered. She began to foam at the mouth. “Z-Zuzu is… Daddy is… Mommy is…”
hssssssss
plrrrtt
Azula had already lost her grip on sanity. Now, faced with a catastrophe she could never have imagined, the crazed girl lost her grip on continence. The crotch of her pants was dampened tremendously as she soaked it with a flow of warm urine. Behind, the seat of her pants bulged backwards as a soft flow of feces emptied into her panties. Foam was dribbling down the corners of her mouth. “I… I… I…”
“Your Majesty, what are your orders?”
“Buh?” Azula looked up. The Fire Sages, General Honda, and the Royal Elite Firebenders were all staring at her. As one, they bowed low. It was enough to restore at least a hint of Azula’s coherence. “W-Whuh?” Azula mumbled. “My orders?”
“Yes, Fire Lord Azula—no, better to call you Fire Empress Azula!”
“Fire… Empress?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I saw that you defeated Prince Zuko out there. He was a traitor anyway. General Iroh is a traitor and his attack on Ba Sing Se failed; he has either fled or been killed. Phoenix King Ozai is dead. We are victorious, Your Majesty; the Fire Nation has vanquished all its remaining enemies. Even the Northern Water Tribe fell, in the assault fueled by the Comet. The Fire Nation now rules the entire planet; all four nations, every corner of the globe, is now the Fire Nation’s empire. But the only one left to rule that empire is… you, Your Majesty.”
“M-Me?” Azula got just a bit saner. “All the world… my empire?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. My Empress, what are your orders? Shall we begin taking steps to hunt down the remaining threats to your rule?”
“My empire.”
They all paused. Azula was trembling again. But this time, she wiped the foam off her mouth, and her full lips curled in a wide and fiendish smile. “I… I won. Not even… daddy. I get it all. I. Me. Me! ME!” She threw back her head and laughed, laughed in a screaming laugh, cackling shrilly in a most unpleasant manner. “I get it! I get it all! It’s mine! All mine! Ahahahahahahahahahaha!!!”
“My… Your Majesty?”
“Ohhh… I’m so powerful,” moaned Azula, sounding almost like she was having an orgasm. Indeed, her fingers drifted down to her urine-soaked crotch, moving between her legs. “All the power… allll the poooowerrrr… it’s all miiiinnnee… I’m so powerful… ohhh, I’m so powerful…”
“Fire Empress Azula, what are your orders?”
Azula looked up, at all those who waited for her command.
And as the full extent of her now infinite power, her limitless dominion, truly washed through the channels of her broken brain, a sensation arose that the old Azula had never felt before, and indeed would probably have been disgusted by.
A gurgle came from her midsection. Then a growling noise.
She licked her lips.
“Prepare a feast!”
“Come… again, Your Majesty?”
“I said, prepare a feast!” Azula jabbed a finger into Honda’s breastplate. “Winning the largest empire of all time has made me hungry, general. I desire to eat. I desire to feast. Prepare me the finest feast available, with the finest food and the most decadent desserts!”
“Your Majesty, with all due respect—”
“It shall be done, O Empress!” said the chief of the Fire Sages, coming in between Azula and Honda. “You banished much of the kitchen staff, but there are still a few skulking around, and in the dungeons, even! And we can recall the most recently banished with speed, they surely have not made it far! Give us a few choice hours, and you shall have a feast fit for your royal palate!”
“Maaarvelous, O wise sage,” said Azula, swaying a bit on her feet. The poop in her pants was getting cold and mushy, but she barely noticed. “Now, the rest of you, do…” her golden eyes became hazy and glassy, “do what you need to do! But I will have my feast! Get to it!”
General Honda and the Chief Fire Sage exchanged glances. The Sage shrugged. Honda shrugged too. Then both began to move back towards the palace.
“Come along, Your Majesty,” said another of the sages. “Let us get you cleaned up, and dressed in truly regal attire. You will soon have the most opulent gold and jewels, befitting your immense power; but for now we shall find some of your old finery to wear.”
“Ohh, my power…” moaned Azula as the sages took her by the arms and led her away. “Ohhh… my power… my power… I’m so powerful… so… so powerful… oh, all the power…”
TEN YEARS LATER
“Zzz… snrk… mmn, so powerful… ohh, the power… zzz… zzz… ohh, Zuzu, look… snrrrrkk… how powerful… so power…”
The enormous bed chambers were bigger than the entire estates of some of the lesser nobles. Huge chambers, with dozens of rooms, massive rooms with high ceilings. The ornate, rich carpeting was dark red and wove throughout the bed chambers, eventually leading from the massive golden doors all the way to the biggest room of them all: the acutal bedroom. A gigantic room, it was largely empty save for a few curious machines and devices. Apart from that, its main furniture was a bed. A huge bed, a gigantic bed. A bed that could have held two full-sized platypus bears within its vast expanse. It was beneath a canopy of golden silk, and its sheets were red silk, its blankets of dark brown and gold.
As big as the bed was, it was almost filled to the brim. Some huge thing took up most of the bed’s space, and a vast mound, a mountain, was rising and falling in the middle.
“Zzzz… zzzz… zzzz… snrrk… mmMMMmm oh my power… ohhh power…”
Onji followed the other maids and servants into the bedroom. The first thing that hit her was the smell. She’d been warned about it, but a verbal warning was quite a bit different than the pungent aroma that now wafted through her nostrils. She had an uncle who had a farm and she’d spent many summers there. The hippocow pastures… that’s what the smell reminded her of, just a little. Earthy. Barnyardish. It smelled… well, it smelled like urine and feces.
She sniffed loudly, then whispered to the Senior Maid: “Um… is it always this bad?”
“Oh, often,” the Senior Maid silently replied. Onji was new, and in fact this was her first day as one of the Empress’ maids, so the Senior Maid had been gentle and accommodating with her for weeks now. “Yes, it’s often quite rancid when we come in here. Sometimes she won’t have had an accident overnight, but that’s rare.”
“Consider yourself lucky,” said another maid behind Onji. “I know exactly what she’s done. Just a pee. That main smell? That’s fresh urine, nothing more.”
“Yes, be grateful Her Majesty has not soiled herself overnight,” said the Senior Maid. “That would have been quite a lot to deal with, on your first day.”
Onji and the other maids spread out and lit the lamps all around the gigantic room, some with candles and some with firebending. They gradually revealed the full brilliant color of the Fire Empress’ bedbroom.
And on the enormous bed, looking like a landscape of mountains and hills, beneath blankets that could have covered a large family, was the Fire Empress herself.
The Senior Made came to the side. The snores were continuing. She reached into the blanket and took hold of a pudgy hand. She lovingly, motheringly stroked the pale skin. “Your Majesty…” she said, in a soothing, motherly voice. “Your Majesty… awake, please, you have a day of ruling to do.”
The eyelids came open. The golden eyes behind them were hazy. Glassy. Indistinct.
And Fire Empiress Azula, Supreme Ruler of the Fire Nation and Its Empire, gazed up from her bed at her Senior Maid.
“Ohh,” she breathed heavily, the enormous mountain of her belly bulging even higher, “yes, yes, my empire. Of course, I have to rule, I have to exercise my power. My power, my power, it’s, hff, it’s all mine, I’m… hff… pff… I’m so powerful…” Azula’s free hand, as fat as the other one, came up out of the bedsheets and pawed at her chest. “Ohh, I’m so powerful, hff… pff… you all obey me, I rule, I rule…” her voice grew weak.
“Oxygen,” said the Senior Maid, holding out her own free hand. Another maid grabbed a rubber mask with black tubes attached to it; these tubes were in turn attached to a large brass machine with pumps and tanks.
“Hff, hff, I’m, pff, hff, ohh, I’m so powerful,” Azula’s voice was barely a whisper, and sweat was beading on her plump forehead. “Ohh, it’s… hfff… all… mine…” her eyelids began to flutter.
“Shhh, yes it is, Your Majesty, that’s right,” said the Senior Maid, and she placed the mask over Azula’s mouth and nose. Oxygen flowed into the mask, and Azula began to breathe hugely, greedily sucking the oxygen that her own body was starting to deny her. She still had a hand on her chest. Onji marveled at how fat just the arm was: a huge sack of blubber for the upper arm that was twice as big around as her thigh, and a big bloated forearm that looked like one of the walruspig hams that her family ate every Winter Solstice.
When Azula’s breathing had finally returned to normal, the Senior Maid took the oxygen mask away. Azula did not say thank you. “Ohh, get me up get me up,” she burbled, waving her long nails at the older woman. “Get me up! I have ruling to do, oh, yes, my empire, my empire, hmm hmm it needs me.”
“It does, Your Majesty!” said the Senior Maid. “So let’s get you out and about for the day.” With that, she threw back the sheets, the blankets, and the covers. And Onji gaped, as the massive body of the Fire Empress was revealed for all to see.
How much could she possibly have weighed? 600 pounds? 700? 800? No, even more. Perhaps over 1000? That seemed impossible but Azula was just that enormous. No one knew for certain. A number of years ago Azula had passed 500 pounds and in the process broken the largest scale in the Fire Nation. In a fit of anger she had ordered all scales destroyed and all production of new ones banned. Of course, like so many orders Azula gave, this one was ignored, but it had resulted in her never coming near a scale ever again. As such, no one knew her actual size, and there was no reliable way to find it out without invoking her ire. “Guess the Empress’ weight” had become a popular parlor game in the Fire Nation, not just among the peasants but among the nobility as well. Of course, Azula never heard about this. The information she received was carefully controlled, and her daily environment was manipulated to avoid upsetting her.
Onji looked at her and thought that half a ton looked like a good guess. She was a massive blob of pale flesh. Huge. Enormous. Gargantuan. So unbelievably FAT. Onji had been prepared for this, as well, but once again, being told something was not the same as encountering it in real life.
Her face and head were fat like a livestock animal’s. Amid her tangles of messy brown hair her soft, plump forehead led down to enormous fat cheeks, fat like the walruspigs Onji had just been thinking of: billowing fat sacks of blubber on either side of her mouth that gave her deep dimples. They oozed down into hanging jowls that flared out wide, giving the Empress a vast, spreading jawline. Her jowls sagged down into her double chin, and this was utterly gigantic: a great tire of fat that ringed Azula’s entire neck and oozed like a goiter down into the gap between her enormous breasts. Azula’s face was fat like a farm animal’s, seeming almost inhuman. “Lift me,” she commanded, and her chins rippled as she spoke.
Five of the maids together lifted Azula into a sitting position. Her skin was pale, yet somewhat blotchy. Her fat arms Onji had already noticed. Between them both were her gargantuan breasts, barely having any sign that they had once been a normal woman’s bosom. They were like bags of milk, formless and oozing, her nipples comically fat and useless; these were so big that they drooped themselves, each nipple sagging impotently at the ends of her sagging, useless breasts.
Her breasts sloped to either side of what was by far Azula’s biggest feature: her belly. Onji was amazed at the sheer size of this colossal pale gut. She could have comfortably sat inside Azula’s belly—and the thought gave Onji a shudder, given the rumors that the Fire Empress occasionally engaged in cannibalism. A great swelling droop that expanded feet and feet in front of her, like the slope of some huge hill, Azula’s belly blossomed out about ten feet in front of her, completely obscuring her lap and hiding her privates from view. The huge pale slope of the belly sloshed and gurgled. Onji could hear it growl. The belly had a kind of mid-curve where the upper slope bent inwards slightly, then flaring out into an even wider flap-roll at the bottom, like the flared bottom of a bell. In this mid-curve there sat, deep and dark, the Empress’ belly button. It must have been at least a foot deep.
Azula licked her plump lips, and her fat chins jiggled. “Mmm, maid, maid, I must have my feast. Get me up.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty!” said the Senior Maid brightly. “Kita, Ranka, turn the crane on. Anta, sweetheart, be a dear and fetch the Royal Wheelchair.”
The maids all set to their appointed tasks. Two more maids reached up and undid the hooks on the canopy of Azula’s bed, and rolled it slowly back, exposing the space above the bedposts to the air. A whining mechanical noise filled the bedroom, and Onji saw that Kita and Ranka were standing by a brass contraption with a winch and cables attached to it. The cables led down to a hook, and the hook held a sturdy brown tarp with four sturdy cables dangling from every corner.
Azula was idly fingering her enormous nipples with her fat fingers. She was idly working her lips and muttering under her breath. “Mmm, mmm, maid,” she mumbled, “I’ve gotten even more powerful, I can feel it, more powerful than ever.”
“I completely believe it, Your Majesty,” said the Senior Maid, tenderly stroking Azula’s back. Azula had slabs of drooping back fat, bubbling down in blobby stairsteps towards the enormous shelf of her ass. Azula had a mammoth butt, almost a dozen feet wide, each buttock bigger and wider and rounder than Onji was tall. They were immensely wrinkled and dimpled with cellulite, pockmarked with craters like the surface of the Moon.
“I’m, ohh, so powerful,” mumbled Azula. “I can feel the excess power moving within me.”
FRRRRTTTTT!!!
Onji stifled a laugh; fortunately she was out of Azula’s line of sight. Then she took a sniff and made a face. The Fire Empress’ flatulence was extremely stinky.
With the whine of motors, the tarp was lowered down. Two more maids came to the tarp and began to push it under the sticky dark flab of Azula’s legs. They slowly slid it further and further into the mire of Azula’s width. “Onji, Landa, please assist on the other side,” said the Senior Maid. The two girls went around to the other side of the bed. Azula’s legs were bigger around than the waist of the fattest person Onji used to know. Her thighs were colossal, bigger than tree trunks, yet as Onji reached beneath them to grab for the tarp she could feel her fingers and her whole hand sinking into the completely formless blubber that the thighs were made of. Her calves were the size of drums; her thighs sagged over her knees, and her calves sagged over her ankles. Onji could see sores and angry redness around those ankles. They led to Azula’s feet, which, like her hands, were fat, and her toes were cute and chubby.
Onji and Landa had grabbed the tarp and pulled it out on the other side of Azula. Taking her lead from Landa, Onji grabbed the cable above her and hooked its hook into the brass hole at her corner of the tarp. The two girls on the other side checked the hooks on their end, making sure they were secure; and with that, the tarp was ready.
Ranka, at the crane, operated the controls. The motors whined, and whined loudly. But the cables all tightened, and with something of a grind of the gears and motors, Azula was lifted up off her bed, about half a foot into the air.
“Oh, oh,” mumbled Azula. “Feasting, feasting, oh, a feast fit for an Empress, oh, my belly, maid, my belly is empty.” On cue there was a great growl from her giant midsection. She smacked her lips; drool was oozing down her hoggish jowls. “My belly must be full!” and Azula’s voice had a whiny note to it. “I must be filled with a full breakfast, to wield all my power! It must be a breakfast feast!”
Onji looked up as Azula was raised higher. She noted that Azula’s belly was so big, and jutted out so far, that the front lip of it actually sagged off the edge of the tarp. She heard a noise behind her, and saw Anta returning, pushing an absolutely enormous chair in front of her. It was gigantically wide; it looked like an entire row of theater seats, with two wheels at the front corners and two wheels at the back corners. The royal crest of the Fire Nation Royal Family was raised up on the back of the chair. The chair was deep, as well as wide; it was almost like a bed on wheels. Its red cushions were of the finest satin. Onji noticed that it had handles for four people to push it. She also noticed a long and wide metal hole cut out a few feet forward from the chair’s cushioned back. It looked like… Onji’s eyebrows rose. It looked like the cutout on the seat of a toilet. And, as she saw Azula lowered down towards the seat, Onji could just tell that Azula was going to be placed in the seat so that the holes would be roughly where her anus and urethra were. She glanced down, and sure enough, there was a large metal tank below the bottom of the chair. Onji’s eyebrows rose even higher. The Fire Empress would essentially be sitting in a toilet on wheels.
The Royal Wheelchair sagged a bit as Azula’s full weight was lowered onto it. The cushioned armrests were raised and came close enough that Azula could rest her arms on them. More maids came, and once Azula was solidly on the chair, they unhooked two of the hooks of the tarp, and guided it underneath Azula’s depths until it was free again, and the arm of the crane was slowly guided away.
“My crown, maid!” snapped Azula, making her big fat double chin ripple comically.
“Come, Your Majesty, we shall give you a face wash and do up your hair,” said the Senior Maid. “Then we shall put your crown on. And then…” she smiled.
Azula smiled, the dimples on her fat face growing deep. “Then I will have my breakfast. My breakfast feast!”
“Indeed.”
“Let us go,” said Azula, imperiously waving a chubby hand. Four maids grabbed the handles on the back of the chair, and they began to push Azula towards a hallway that Onji knew led to the bathrooms. The other maids gradually filtered out in the Empress’ wake.
The servants began to change the sheets. Onji turned around just in time to see them pull the sheets off. The golden silk bedsheet was completely soaked; the damp spot took up an enormous amount of the bedsheet, such that there was more of the bedsheet damp than dry. Onji, yet again, raised her eyebrows. Azula had emptied nearly a lake of urine into her bed last night as she had slept. With a grimace, Onji wondered how big her bowel movements were, if this is what her bladder could do.
“Onji, come! Help at once!”
“Coming, ma’am!” said Onji, hurrying off after the rest of the maids.
The heavy floral smell in the air made everyone in the palace stand on notice. They always smelled the Fire Empress coming before they saw her, and it allowed them to get ready to honor her as she arrived. Azula’s natural smell, her actual smell, was rank and stinky, urine and feces and flatulence, that hung about her despite all attempts to bathe it away. It had only gotten worse as Azula had grown too fat for bathtubs and the maids had had to resort to sponge baths. So since they couldn’t remove the stink, they disguised it, dousing Her Majesty in heavy doses of perfume whenever she left her chambers. It didn’t quite work, didn’t quite disguise the stink. The result was a heavy smell that was somehow sweet, floral, and putrid all at once. And you could smell it from well off.
So the nobles, ministers, employees of the Crown, servants—all of them stopped what they were doing and waited. Sure enough, down the vast corridors of the palace came Azula, pushed along in her Royal Wheelchair, accompanied by her army of maids. A few of the people she passed debased themselves, going all the way to putting their foreheads on the ground. Most of them just bowed deeply.
“Ohhhh,” moaned Azula in delight, seeing so many people showering her with honor. “Worship me, oh, worship me, mmm, worship your empress. Acknowledge my power. Ohh, I’m so… so powerful,” she huffed a breath. She was sweating, a slick sheen of perspiration on her fattened face. It was causing her freshly-applied makeup to start to run. In her enormous bathroom chambers, the maids had wheeled Azula in and freshened her up. They had washed her face, scrubbed under her armpits and between her fat folds, doused her with perfume as mentioned, and done her makeup and hair. Then they had nestled her crown into her topknot. Whereas that crown had been oversized on the lithe, muscular form of 15-year-old Azula, it looked small on the fattened, overindulged body of 25-year-old Azula. It was like the golden capstone on a pyramid of fat flesh. Azula fanned her face. “Huff, fan me more, fan me more,” she said, her voice breathy and quiet.
“Please increase that fan speed, ladies,” said the Senior Maid.
Onji was one of the two girls fanning, so she began to fan Azula harder as they all rolled and walked along. The Fire Empress suddenly turned her way, those oozing jowls and that bulbous chin jostling as her head moved. “Youuu,” she slurred, wobbling a fat finger up to point at her. “You’re new. What’s your name?”
“Oh, I’m Onji, Your Majesty,” said Onji with a smile. She stopped fanning for a moment, stopped walking for a moment, and bowed very low.
Azula smiled, her big buttery chins sagging lower. “Such good manners, dear Onji… you honor me. You worship me. You’re a slave that knows your place before my power. I… hff, like you.”
Onji stifled the reaction she would normally have had to being called a ‘slave,’ and smiled, and nodded. Her instructions were to show nothing but positive emotions to the Empress. In fact, Onji now tried the one thing she’d easily learned Azula loved: flattery. “I’ve never even been close to someone as powerful as you, Your Majesty. You’re the most incredible human being alive, I bet.”
“Ohhh,” moaned Azula, idly reaching down to play with her nipples again. She was naked; she’d been naked for years at this point. It was simply not worth the effort to clothe her, with the amount of fabric it would take. The palace’s climate was moderate enough that she could get along without clothes, provided the maids could always get her a blanket as needed. Indeed, Azula’s problem was usually that she felt too hot, with all her insulating blubber. “Ohh, Onji, Onji, sweet slave, my… my pet,” sweat beaded up on Azula’s forehead as her heart rate increased. “The new girls usually never know how to show proper respect. They usually have to… hff, learn it.”
Onji glanced at one of her fellow maids. They shared a secret grin behind Azula’s back. Then Onji turned to Azula and put an expression of devotion on her face. “Oh, My Empress, you have to believe me when I say I’ve simply never encountered a human being like you. You’re perfect. You’re literally perfect. I can absolutely feel the full extent of your awesome power. It’s a little scary, frankly.”
“Ouuhhhh, yesssss,” croaked Azula, beginning to foam at the mouth a little. She was really playing with her nipples now, the big fat things actually no longer drooping but now sticking out straight ahead like knobs on a control panel. “Ohh, my power… my power… I’m so powerful…” she mumbled, slurring the words out. “What a good new girl you are. You can feel it, can’t you?” Azula was grinning, now she really was sweating. “My power. My power. You can feel it…”
grrglll
“You can taste it…”
FRRRTTT
“You can smell it.”
Pllrrrrttt!!
Onji’s eyes widened as Azula’s mouth made an ‘o’ shape and she put her fat hands on her enormous hips. She seemed to be leaning back. Onji had heard several sounds, and she had smelled a fart, but now a really awful stench hit her nose. On a hunch, as Azula basked in the delirium of her own self-worship, Onji bent down. Azula’s ass crack was huge and deep and dark, but Onji swore, through the feet and feet between the butt cheeks, she could just barely see something… moving.
Eyes bulging, Onji turned back to one of the other maids. “Is…” she whispered, not that Azula was paying attention to her any more, “Is she… pooping?”
“Oh ho, yes, you’ve got to be smelling it by now, right?” said one of the maids. She grinned nastily. “You must have really worked her up. She’s not due for a bowel movement for another couple of hours, but sometimes in the morning if you really get her drunk on her own delusions of grandeur she’ll absolutely shit herself. I’m surprised you did it on your first day! It usually takes new maids a while to discover the game.”
“The game?” said Onji.
“Oh yes. When we’re bored sometimes. We try to see how early we can make her poop, just by showering her with praise and getting her delirious with self-love. She seems to react to extreme bouts of that by shitting herself. Doctors don’t quite know why. Kita over there holds the record: she once managed to get Her Majesty to take a dump before she was even craned out of bed.”
Onji, just for a minute, looked back at the Fire Empress and felt a twinge of pity. This enormous sack of lard, the butt of the joke of all her servants, a toy in the hands of the people she thought she controlled. It was a bit miserable, Onji thought. Maybe Azula didn’t deserve it.
“Slave! Slave Onji… hff, girl, come back here! I like you but don’t slack! To your fan, slave! I’m hot!”
Then Onji curled her lip, and all her pity was gone.
The Fire Empress and her maids rolled into the grand dining room, where a feast of breakfast was prepared. The room was occupied in its center by an enormous table, incredibly wide and extremely long. And this table was covered, from one end to the other, with food. Even as they arrived, the waiters were laying out the last platters of steaming hot dishes. Meat, eggs, rice, fried things, grilled things, things simmering in sauces, things bubbling in their own juices. Greasy, soppy, fattening, delectable.
Azula was drooling heavily, her tongue lolling out. She panted like some kind of beast, the fat on her arms wobbling as she wiggled her chubby fingers. “Oooh, the feast, the feast, mmm, yum yum, oghmn,” she burbled, babbling inanely as her chins wobbled with the working of her mouth. There was a round curve cut out of the front of the table as they approached it; Onji quickly realized that this was purely for Azula’s sake, otherwise the great bulk of her belly would have kept her from being seated close to the table.
Azula was pushed up close to the table. A fork was put into her hand. “A fork?” Onji whispered to another maid.
“Her fingers are too fat to use chopsticks,” said the maid. “And she eats much faster with a fork anyway. It’s what she prefers.”
A huge bib was tied around Azula, sloping down the great swell of her gut. Then the head maid patted her on the shoulder. “Here is your feast, my empress.”
“Ohgm,” gurgled Azula as she grabbed a dish and dug her fork in. “Ohhh, I love to eat, I love to eat,” she burbled stupidly as she brought a huge bite to her mouth. She chewed. She swallowed. She forked in another bite. She chewed, and swallowed again.
Onji sat there, gaping, as Azula ate. She ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate. As she polished off the dishes within easy reach of her, the empty plates were removed, and full plates, still overflowing with food, were brought within range so she could attack them as well. Azula ate enough for one normal-sized person. Then two. Then three. Then four. Onji was amazed at the huge quantity of food going into the Fire Empress. She had soon eaten enough for a small family, and she was not showing any signs of slowing down.
FRRRT!
“Ohh, fan me, fan me,” mumbled Azula, food slopping out of her mouth and tumbling down her breasts and belly.
“Fans, please,” said the head maid. Onji and the other fan girl came close and began to fan Azula as she continued to eat.
“Mfnrnf, mnfn, I have, mfn, buuurp, have to keep up my strength,” mumbled Azula between bites. “I have to rule. I’m so powerful. I have so much power. I’m so powerful, so powerful, I need food for my power, my power…” she was drooling, saliva oozing down her chins as she continued to babble to herself and continued to eat.
Frrrrrrttttttt
“Oh, ugh,” mumbled Onji under her breath as the flatulence rolled into the air. Azula’s farts were rancid. They stank like garbage, like sewage. Azula stank: this close, the perfume was cut through by the potency of her odors, and Onji could smell her fart-stink, her body odor, the scent of her urine and feces. She was a rancid bag of stench, a garbage sack bulging out everywhere.
“I’m so powerful…” mumbled Azula, forking a huge bite of meat into her mouth. She chewed with her mouth open, slopping meat juices down her fat face and splattering the bib.
Hssssssssss
Azula casually took a piss as she continued to eat; Onji could hear the urine spattering into the tank at the bottom of her wheelchair. “Worship me worship me, oh, Zuzu, ohohoho look how powerful I’ve gotten, mommy loves me…”
Onji saw sweat trickling out from under Azula’s armpits as her huge fat arms rippled and moved. There was sweat running down Azula’s forehead as well. It seemed that even the act of eating, of wolfing down this much food, was enough to tax her weak stamina.
“I’m so strong… that’s why I need… mnfng, these feasts…” Her hazy eyes blinked, and she put a fat hand on her chest. “I need strength to rule… URRRPPP!!!”
The head maid came in with a damp towel and dabbed at Azula’s forehead. “You truly are powerful, O Empress. We are very lucky to be in your midst, and to have the privilege of ministering to you.”
“Ohhh,” moaned Azula in delight; her huge nipples stiffened again. And she resumed eating.
She ate. She ate. She ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate. She had now eaten a true feast, enough food for a dozen people or more. And still she was eating, there were still dishes from the far reaches of the table being brought to her. She ate. She guzzled. She gorged.
Until finally, the last bite of the last dish slid into her plump lips. She chewed. She swallowed.
And her breakfast feast was done.
“BUUUUUUAAAAARRRPPPPP!!!” she belched loudly, smacking her lips. “Ohhh… truly a marvelous hic feast,” she burbled, smiling happily. Onji saw her eyes blink heavily. The big fat woman was probably going to pass out soon in a food coma. But first, she waved a chubby finger around in the air. “And now hic it is time for… for my meetings! For my advisors! For me to rule!”
“Of course, your majesty,” said the head maid. She used a damp cloth and wiped Azula’s face free of food pieces and sauces, then wiped down her huge breasts and the massive upper swell of her belly. “First, though, you must of course have your after-breakfast tea.” She placed a cup and saucer, steaming with hot liquid, into Azula’s plump hands.
“Ahhh… yes, yes, my tea,” said Azula, beginning to sip the hot liquid. Her fat hog’s face made the teacup look comically small against its bloated bigness.
“So she has tea, after all that?” asked Onji, who by now had ceased fanning and moved off to a distance.
“Well, we convinced her to start having it,” said one of the maids. “We always load it up with tranquilizers, just to make sure she’s asleep before the small council meeting gets too far underway. Everybody’s agreed it’s best that she’s conked out before the discussion gets too far, before she says or does something problematic.”
Onji nodded. “I see.” A brown eyebrow rose. “Just, uh, just how much do you guys drug her?”
“Oh, quite a lot,” said Kita, coming close. “We’re always loading her up with something. Stimulants, tranquilizers, uppers, downers, appetite stimulants, laxatives, diuretics. In addition to the medication she takes for her gout and her cholesterol. Azula’s a big machine, basically, and we’ve got to make sure she keeps operating properly, and that she doesn’t break.”
FRRRRTTTTTT!!!
The noxious stench of the fart wafted over them all. Kita waved a hand in front of her nose. “The trouble is, even when she’s operating properly, she’s still quite… messy. You just have to learn to deal with it.”
“I still think we should get her addicted to opium,” said Ranka. “It would act as a painkiller for her joints and her bowels and her gout. And we know she always wants to feel good, and that would make her feel really good.”
“No, no addictions, Ranka,” said the Senior Maid, coming over to them. “We’ve already gone over this. Her heart is too weak as it is. Actual drugs might very well kill her, and it’s been decided she’s to stay alive as long as possible.” Azula was being wheeled towards them, still sipping her tea. “Now come along, let’s get her to the throne room.”
They wheeled Azula into the great throne room of the palace just as the first meetings were getting under way. “The Empress!” announced one of the royal pages, and all the generals, admirals, governors, and ministers present around the long table rose to their feet. The great canopied pavilion where the Fire Lord traditionally sat had been modified, some: its steps had been removed, and a ramp had been installed instead. Where once there had been some cushions for the Fire Lord to kneel and survey his underlings, there was now just a simple platform, and Azula’s great bulk was wheeled up onto it. On the side of the stage, somebody turned a knob, and artificial flames rose in the grate at the edge of the stage, replicas of the flames that were supposed to be kept burning by pure firebending power. But, of course, Azula was too fat, too weak, and too addled in her mind to keep up the concentration for that any more.
“Mmm, my adviiisorrrss…” mumbled Azula, drool bubbling out of the edge of her mouth. One of the maids produced a cloth and wiped up her spittle. “I must rule, I must rule, my power, I’m so powerful, ohohoho the whole world is mine, ahh…”
It was quite something for Onji to watch as Azula would slide in and out of lucidity in her presence. There were stretches, she’d already seen them, where Azula seemed almost-sane, and she would be commanding and domineering and clearly fit to order her army of maids around. But then her golden eyes would go weak, and glassy, and she’d start to babble, and it would be like she was an overgrown toddler, uttering nonsense for minutes at a time. She’d often empty her bowels and her bladder when she got like that.
“Now,” said one of the ministers, “as I was saying, the repair work for the delivery system in New Ozai seems to need an additional allocation of funds. Our inspectors arrived just the other day from a survey of the city. The terrorist attack on the delivery system has proven more disruptive than initial reports suggested, and—”
“New Ozai needs a statue of me!”
The ministers stopped, and gazed up at the burning dais. Azula glaring down at them, her bloated face set in an expression of petulant attention. Her chins slopped and her fat breasts lolled to the side of her belly as she leaned forward, and pointed a fat finger with a pointy, gold-painted nail down at them all.
“Ohoho, the… the terrorists won’t dare attack a city my visage graces! Build a statue of me in New Ozai!”
The minister gazed up at the huge fat woman placidly, a kind expression on his face. “Your Majesty, with all due respect, there are already multiple statues of you in New Ozai. Your visage graces the city practically on every street corner.”
“W-Well… well build more!” Azula slammed a chubby fist on the armrest of her wheelchair, making her blubbery upper arm jiggle fiercely. “I need more statues of me, more statues everywhere! I have to show off my power in New Ozai, in the Earth Kingdom, in the entire world!”
One of the other ministers made a motion with his hands, roughly in the direction of the Senior Maid. The Senior Maid, in turn, went over to one of the other maids and whispered in her ear.
“My power… ohhh, my power… it’s so much! The whole world needs to be reminded of my power!” Azula began to foam at the mouth. “We need more statues and more monuments and more tributes and more… more… more! My power must be acknowledged by everyone!”
The maid came up to Azula’s side with a syringe full of something clear. She stuck the needle in Azula’s fat upper arm and injected the concoction.
“What’s that?” Onji asked Kita.
“A stronger tranquilizer. Usually what we put in her tea after breakfast is enough to knock her out, but sometimes it isn’t, so we always keep something stronger handy when we wheel her in here.”
The effect was almost instantaneous: Azula’s ranting lost a lot of its volume and vigor. Her golden eyes grew glassy and began to blink. She lazily held up a fat finger. “I… I need to be celebrated… need… to be worshiped… more statues… ohh, Zuzu look at me…” she worked her fattened lips a bit, dollops of drool bubbling down her bloated chins.
Prrrdddd
A lazy croak of her bowels let out a soft slurry of feces, just a bit of emission as the tranquilizer loosened up all of her vast systems.
Azula yawned. “I… I am… the Fire Empress!” she tried to summon an authoritative shout, but her voice was rapidly growing weak and pathetic. “I must… be honored… must… be worshiped! I’m… so powerful… my power… my… my power…”
Finally, her eyelids slid closed. Her fat face oozed to one side. And very shortly, she was snoring deeply, her huge belly bulging in and out with her deep breaths as she collapsed into slumber.
The minister who had signaled for the tranquilizer smiled up at the snoring behemoth. “Now,” he said, turning back to the table, “as I was saying, with some additional funds…”
So the meeting continued, as Azula snored heavily. It always went like this, in some form or fashion. With the huge meal of her breakfast sitting in her gut, with the sleeping medicines in her tea coursing through her body, and sometimes, as now, with the aid of the additional tranquilizer, Azula spent her ‘morning meetings’ fast asleep in her pampered wheelchair. The ministers, advisors, admirals, and generals would go about making decisions on how to run the Fire Nation’s worldwide empire while its nominal ruler snored away. They could not, technically, hold these meetings without the Fire Empress present. But they always made sure she was fast asleep by the time any serious decisions were being made. It was much the same for her afternoon meetings: they made sure Azula was knocked out for those, too.
So it went, day in and day out. As such, despite how much she boasted deliriously about how she was “so powerful,” the truth was that Azula had no real power at all. She was a fat bag of garbage that spent her days eating, sleeping, shitting, and being carted to and fro for appearances. She was nothing more than a figurehead, in the real business of running the Fire Nation. No, she was less than a figurehead: she was a glorified mascot of the Fire Empire, her turgid bulk used as an image of the Fire Nation’s vast prosperity and a reminder to the conquered nations that they were simply too weak and underequipped to ever think of rebellion. Azula’s vast, fat body was used to remind everyone of how wealthy, prosperous, and plentiful the Fire Nation was, and how the whole world was better off under its total control. That was her utility. She made no meaningful decisions on the empire’s fate herself.
An hour later, the meeting was over, and with the chime of a small gong, the various members of the council got up from their cushions and adjourned. Azula still slept deeply up on her dais, as the fake flames burned away.
“As always, Miss Shizu, I thank you for your prompt attentions,” said the minister as he walked to the edge of the stage and spoke to the Senior Maid.
“Think nothing of it, kind sir,” said the Senior Maid, smiling gently down at him.
The minister glanced over at the hulking, stinking, snoring blob. “She has a parade this afternoon. She will be, ah, conscious for that, will she not?”
“Think nothing of it, sir,” said the Senior Maid. “She should wake up in a few hours. If she’s still groggy by the time lunch rolls around we’ll giver her the appropriate amount of stimulants. Rest assured, Azula will be raring to go by the time she has to be paraded through the city.”
The minister nodded. “You do manage her with great precision. I must commend you for that. I’ve seen your daily schedules, I know it’s not easy.”
“Just doing my duty to our great nation,” said the Senior Maid, nodding her head.
Up on the dais, in her comfortable chair, Azula gurgled and snored. “Mommy,” she moaned in her sleep. “Moooommmmyyyy….”
FRRRRTTTTTT!!!
The fart was so loud the sound filled the entire throne room.
A few hours later, as the Senior Maid had predicted, Azula was awake, and it was time for lunch.