My Queen Is A Bimbo, and I'm Okay With That (Patreon)

Robert Baratheon was many things. A warrior. A King. A lover of wine and women.

A grieving man pining after his first love. 

But most important of all, Robert Baratheon was primarily done with Cersei's bullshit.

After a bloody and destructive civil war, which had cost him friends, family and the most important woman in the world, he'd married a woman for the simple purpose of cementing an alliance with her house.  Cersei Lannister could, in theory, be called a beautiful woman by some. That would be exclusively people who didn't know how much of a frigid cunt she was, or how she seemed to delight and take pleasure in trying Robert's ever dwindling patience.

Even accounting for the fact that he had greatly reduced the burden upon himself by relying on his small council, the troubles of the Kingdom still weighed heavily upon Robert, and he knew little of how to truly help it, rather than distracting the populace and employing his charisma.

But there was only so much a King could do for his people when he was no administrator.

And even less he could do when his bitch of a wife had wound up being more of a thorn on his side than an ally or even a political tool. Not like he could use her for much of anything with Tywin Lannister, the old asshole was more likely to sacrifice Cersei for a potato than he was to mourn her if she passed.

"What about that rumor about the priestess of the Summer Isles?"

Jon Arryn was, as per usual, a refreshing voice of reason, a man whom Robert could trust to not begrudge him his displeasure. Not that Jon didn't have his problems, but at least he wasn't annoying about it. Most of the time anyway.

"That's some serious bullshit," Robert said, taking a swig of his cup, the high alcoholic content of the shitty wine causing it to taste horrible, but at least give him a pleasant buzz. "Besides, that bitch wouldn't go for it, ever."

Jon rolled his eyes. "Cersei is nothing if not vain," he said, "just send her on that trip for, I wouldn't know, beautification or something," he said as he too drank heavily, then spat the wine out, it really was that bad.

"We'll see if she goes for it, if it works, maybe I'll have a child I can raise properly this time."

Jon snorted. "My investigation on that is ongoing, I still have my suspicions, they look nothing like your bastards," he mused.

"Bagh, they look like Lannisters, the lot of them," Robert said. "If I didn't know any better, I would imagine that old bastard Tywin is impregnating his own daughter to deny me the chance!"

Not that Robert had truly made that much of an effort to actually impregnate the bitch. Sometimes he needed another woman to do most of the work so that he could get done with Cersei quickly, so much of a dead fish she was in bed.

Well, just remembering that incensed him, and he decided, for sure, Cersei would be getting those fertility treatments if he had anything to say for it.

Weeks passed, and Cersei eventually was convinced and sent away, to come back after the seasons had changed.

And come back she did, and when she did, Robert had such a hard time recognizing his bitch of a Queen that his eyes almost burst. Cersei's breasts were each as big as her head, her lips were puffed out and looked luscious, and her ornate dress and robes could hardly contain the body that tried to spill out of them.

Robert had celebrated openly the success of the treatments, and a feast was thrown. He'd have gone for a full tournament, but he already had one planned soon anyway. 

He took his wife to his chambers, that night, and noticed that she'd kept mostly quiet.

"Why don't you use those fat lips of yours and service me like you never had before," Robert said, his nasty grin visible through his unkempt beard.

Cersei glared at him. "You're nothing but a disrespectful pig," she said, undoing her robes and unbuckling her dress, letting it drop as she did. 

She needed no support. Her tits, large and overflowing with feminine charm, remained perky, her nipples pointy and looking delectable, making Robert want to bite down on their pillowy flesh.

Robert allowed her to undo his pants, as he laid on bed. An action he was more than a bit used to, as whores serviced him. Having his wife actually do as told, however, was a novel experience.

She fished his still mostly flaccid cock from his underpants, and with a bit of effort, managed to set it free. She then did as he told her, and began using those inflated lips of hers to kiss his length, before taking it into her mouth.

The feeling was amazing, not just because of the blowjob itself - Robert had gotten better from whores - but because she seemed to actively hate what she was doing, even as she did it. Something within her remained her same self, but it seemed the rumors of the priestess' powers were true and real, because she neither complained nor objected as he laughed at the sight of the woman who'd betrayed him more than anyone else and who'd been a poor replacement for Lyanna to begin with.

Cersei began to service him then, bobbing her head up and down on his slowly stiffening shaft.

"Use your tits, woman! That's what I paid for you to get them for!"

Cersei glared, lisping something unintelligible at him, as she adjusted her position between his legs and brought her massive mammaries to the front, holding him from the base of his cock while she used her other hand to hold her breasts in place as she wrapped them around his favorite body part.

"That's right," he sighed in satisfaction. "Use those tits and get me off!"

Now using both hands to keep her heavy, soft tits together, Cersei began to move her entire torso, so that she could massage her husband the king's shaft with her oversized milkers.

Robert had to admit, despite her being terrible at it, the simple joy of being part of her humiliation was itself an incredible feeling. Part of him wished to replace her face with a vaguely remembered, half-glazed over facsimile of Lyanna's, but he could never imagine doing something like this to an actual worthy woman.

In fact, as he grabbed Cersei's head and forced her pretty, fleshy lips around his dickhead, which poked just out of her fat tits' grasp, he thought he wouldn't even do something like this to his usual whores.

He used Cersei for his pleasure, and eventually reached his completion, forcing her head down and keeping it in place as he unloaded his kingly seed into her stomach. She swallowed, glaring at him as she did, and then he, revitalized with energy after the spiritual refreshing that was giving her what she deserved, he surged into motion, throwing her into his bed and taking his place behind her.

Her ass was just as thick and meaty as her tits, and her hips were grown, expanded and fatter, true childbearing hips. She'd give him a strong child, he was sure of it, with these hips, as he grabbed and sank his fingers on all that overflowing meat.

With a grin, he lined himself up with her gushing, drooling cunt, and thought of little else other than how he was going to quite enjoy giving himself a half dozen more spare children. Perhaps a few more. 

This priestess of the summer isles... Jon had certainly stumbled upon a gem in his investigations, and he was certain he'd be employing her services on a few more people, sometime soon, as he invaded Cersei's insides and heard her screech involuntarily, voicing the immense pleasure that her slutty, whorish cunt felt as it was ravaged by his great weapon.

Indeed, once again, Robert felt the revitalizing feeling of satisfaction. He was a man reborn, hadn't felt this good since he was with Lyanna truly, and he was loathe to fall into the stupor he'd been wandering in up until now.

He continued fucking Cersei deep into the night, the slutty queen unable to keep herself quiet, moaning and groaning like a whore in heat, and Robert could not help but delight in how the Priest had done exactly what he'd wanted. She was still herself, still the bitch he knew, but oh, it was so much easier to deal with her, now that she could no longer hold back her sexual urges and impulses, now that she could not pretend to be above it all.

She hated every moment of it, but she could no longer deny her body's needs, when he was there to fulfil them.

As he bred the queen, he thought of how he would proceed further. Definitely, he'd have to speak with Jon and Eddard; there was much to be done in the days that would follow. Many people would have to be informed, he mused, of his plans. 

Days later, indeed, the King would have already set many plans in motion, and be met with, of all things, Tywin Lannister's approval as his wife paraded her excessive feminity and beauty, and Robert made it visible to all that he was partaking in said beauty frequently and enthusiastically.

The old asshole, of all things, seemed to find himself approving of the fact that Robert was clearly taking a much more active role when it came to his marriage. Well, not all the Lannisters were happy, of course.

But then, watching Jaime Lannister's face burn with anger when he molested his wife in public? That, too, gave Robert a feeling of smug satisfaction that could hardly be matched by most.