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brick-a-doodle-do · 11 months

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i know myself so well DVFEWJRS

HERE IT IS!! LAST CHAPTER IN MAIN SERIES! i started this doc on halloween and finished it around fourth of july! good god!

also i forgot to add bht thank you to xyz for help with this chapter !! part of the last scene was completely their idea :D

the egg scene will forever haunt me. i was stuck on that for at least three months.

not quite ready (iii; final)

(i, ii)

words: 4515 (😱😱😱)

cw: vore mention, dehumanization, mentions of depression, descriptions of questioning reality ? idk the word for that :I

—–—

The following morning, Wilbur sits with himself in silence. The apartment was quiet, broken only by the quiet whooshes of cars rushing in the busy streets down below and the occasional hum from the air conditioner.

By the time the bedroom door that had sat undisturbed for hours creaked open with practiced silence, he didn't know how much time had passed.

That feeling was familiar.

He hates to circle back to the very thing he’s so luckily escaped from, but every little thing he did would remind him of it. Wilbur doesn’t know Tommy very well yet, and he can’t say he’s drawn to doing so, but it’s nice to be able to gaze at the chocolate bag without looking at the walls he only saw as one great big endless void.

He can hear Tommy’s weight shift onto the floorboards softly as he makes his way through the apartment. Wilbur tossed to his side, eyes staring at the cloth of the couch. Familiarity washes over him and drowns him. He had spent too long staring at a dark, blank slate. Why does his freedom entail the very same thing?

Wilbur frowns, shifting back up to the ceiling, where Tommy just barely looms over the edge of the couch. A shiver runs through his body at the startle, but ultimately it’s nice to see him, because it was grounding to see another living and breathing something.

“Oh, fuck, sorry—” Tommy murmurs, his hands resting on the back of the couch and pushing the cushion down just slightly to see the tiny better. Wilbur shrugs, looking deeply into the eyes that blink without a rhythm. Tommy is alive.

Wilbur is too.

Tommy’s chest rises and falls and his hair shifts as his head moves just barely so their eye-contact could disperse. Wilbur’s chest rises and falls too, and he can hear his heartbeat that thumps softly against his ears as they sit in utter silence.

“Well, um, I’m gonna go, yeah? You alright here?”

He considered it, and he should’ve said he was. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he’d apparently lost control of his response and blurted out an extremely abrupt: “No, please stay with me. I–I can’t sleep and I really can’t have it be quiet any longer.”

“Oh,” Tommy murmurs, “okay. Yeah, I can do that for sure. Do you want me to sit down?” he asks, already making his way over to the tiny.

The borrower nods, trying not to listen to the voice in his head. Tommy obliges and walks around the edge of the couch, a certain slowness to his movements, and sits down just inches away from the pillow he was on.

Wilbur sits up, sinking slightly in the middle of the feathers, but his next-to-nothing weight, for the most part, keeps him still. Tommy keeps his hands in his lap, nails picking softly at his skin. It’s quiet for a moment, but Tommy speaks up with the inevitable question, “Did you sleep last night?”

Wilbur shakes his head, “No, I couldn’t. Did you?”

“A little bit,” Tommy replies, and Wilbur notices how the hem of the human’s shirt has been caught between his fingers. “Hey, um, Wilbur?” Tommy asks. Wilbur looks up. “Are you feeling alright after that whole, uh…thing?”

Wilbur shrugs, the phantom feeling of being in the bag already fading from his memory, but in the same way never uprooting. He swallows. “I can't say I feel the best, but I'm getting better. Thank you for what you've done, I don't know where I'd be right now.”

“Oh, nah man, you didn't deserve to be there in the first place! Just helpin’ a guy out, y’know?” Tommy flashes him a fond smile, and the human’s humor wafts into his face, the sweet scent of underlying pity burning his throat. He laughs dryly, unsure of where to lead the conversation so that the suffering sound of nothing can’t bother him any longer, because so many of his days had been spent with little but the occasional muffled chime from the store’s door or the hushed chatter from city-goers as they pass in and out.

Tommy looks like he wants to say something, his lips parting with every passing second Wilbur sits with the reminisce of the past. He considers pointing the fact out, but instead he lets them sit in the shared silence before the teenager’s inevitable saving grace would show.

Half a minute has passed and they haven't broken eye-contact.

The gesture might’ve scared past-Wilbur, though post-incident-Wilbur has never felt more thrilled at the contact of another being. And when his eyes drift down to the fingers that still fidget with the cloth anxiously, he can't help but imagine how grounding it would feel for fingers to close over him.

He shudders at the thought, however, because it’s an entirely other scenario to be trapped by a human. It’s a conflicting battle that leaves him absentmindedly shifting closer.

Tommy is quiet.

Wilbur is quiet.

A car honks down on the streets below, startling Wilbur.

Tommy, awkwardly, clears his throat. “I’m going back to London in a few weeks, can’t be long now, uhm, do you want to come with me? I don’t want to force you, but you don’t seem like the typa’ fella to just pick life back up, respectfully ‘n all.” Wilbur considers it, and the silence draws taut.

“That’s a bit last-minute, don’t you agree?” he asks.

“Right, like I said you’re not, like, fuckin’ obligated to or whatever. Just thought it might be nice, givin’ you a heads up ‘n all,” Tommy reassures him. It’s not exactly convincing; Wilbur finds himself wondering how much of Tommy is really okay with him staying here.

Wilbur swallows, running his fingers through the flap of his hair. “I don’t know, and don’t expect an answer. Not anytime soon.”

“Right, yeah, don’t decide right now,” Tommy chirps, leaning against the couch and sighing. “Are you hungry? I could fuckin’ eat right now,” he adds.

Wilbur stares right at him.

Tommy sits, oblivious with his leg bouncing as he awaits Wilbur’s response. Eventually, his eyes shifted in realization when the silence had drawn on too long. “Oh, oh fuck—I didn’t mean it like that, I don’t want anything like that—” Tommy rushes, the words coming out a warp. Wilbur shakes his head, the beginning of laughter escaping him, though drying up at the edge of his throat.

“You’re fine, king, you’re all good. Just a bit jumpy after everything, you get it,” he replies simply.

“I actually don’t really get it,” Tommy argues. There’s another beat of silence, Wilbur staring at Tommy’s hands. “Well, uh, seriously then, do you want food?”

Wilbur nods eagerly.

Food, real food sounded extravagant; his teeth had rotten away over all the times he’d filled up on chocolate.

The taste of something savory over the weeks had often been his imagination while he bit into the bud of candy, pretending easily that it was something different, like, a rather pleasant portion of fruit he’d scored while a human was away or something he managed to buy in his short time of freedom.

Tommy nods, shuffling up off of the couch and leaving him in the lonely living room again, back to sitting with his own thoughts, only this time with a newfound light after the human had flicked it on.

Suddenly, Tommy comes back into view as he gently leans over the back of the couch. So close. Like how he had been when he’d peered into the candy bag—

“Wilbur,” Tommy urges. When Wilbur seems to have blinked out of his memory, the human continues. “What do you want? You allergic to anything?”

He blinks. Alurgic?

“Uh….I don’t think I know what that means,” Wilbur admits.

“Oh, uh, I’ll take that as a no. I don’t have it in me to explain,” Tommy says, smiling at him like Wilbur is supposed to know what that means.

When Tommy takes his expression that grows even more confused by the following silence as a response, he tries to shake it off with a swift: “Can I take you over to the kitchen, then? Or do you think you still could fall asleep?”

“I can’t fall asleep,” Wilbur responds quickly.

Tommy nods. “I’m gonna put my hand down on the pillow,” the human announces. He does—though irritatingly slow. He was unsure about humans, and it seemed both of them recognized that, but Wilbur wasn’t glass.

When Tommy had stopped moving and instead kept his eyes glued to the borrower, he moved with his shoulders slicked back to hide the anxiety of being watched so intensely.

Tommy’s skin was rough under his own as he got situated on his palm.

Memories of being held by other (more resentful) humans fought their way through his archives, but he felt oddly soothed for how loud his head was.

Almost immediately after he had settled in the center of Tommy’s hand, gravity shifted and he watched as the world grew further from him. He wasn’t startled (Prime knows he’s been through worse) as his world shifted with each of Tommy’s movements, in fact he was still as at ease as he could be.

The rest of the apartment wasn’t anything special.

Ahead of them was a kitchen, to the right was the front door, and to the left there were two other closed doors. He couldn’t take the house for anything personalized, so he probably hadn’t been here for longer than a few months. Still, it wasn’t the cleanest thing ever, but he couldn’t expect anything different from a kid Tommy’s age.

(He’s seen it first-hand from the walls)

(*)

Tommy’s muscle memory kept him from wandering into the kitchen counter as his eyes kept a strong stare onto Wilbur.

It wasn't anything particularly different than the other times he had talked or even seen a tiny, but even despite how little they've known each other it still felt more personal. Wilbur had been through a lot and Tommy was getting to help him.

And he’s already cracked the ice, he noted as Wilbur barely reacts when he gently tilts him off of his hand and onto the kitchen island.

He turns his back to him to search the fridge.

There was barely anything there, just a cool-lighted wasteland with a few leftovers that he can't remember packaging in the first place.

An egg carton was nestled between two takeout boxes (had he tried organizing?) and it caught his gaze the second look around the fridge.

“Uhh, we have eggs,” Tommy suggests.

There's silence for a moment, then, barely distinguished from behind him, “That sounds fine.”

Wilbur sounded distracted, if somehow that was possible.

“Great, because I don’t actually think I can make anything except that,” Tommy deadpans, chuckling to himself at his own joke. He watches Wilbur crack a smile and a quiet laugh on his way to the stove with the egg carton in hand.

He flicks on the dial against the back of the stove, turning it to a medium heat before opening a cabinet to pull out a bowl.

Tommy follows the routine of whisking the eggs then pouring them in and waiting. For a minute, Tommy’s attention lingers on what’s stood behind him, but he doesn’t voice his curiosity, nor his concern or sociable desires.

He just stands over the stove, watching the eggs, prodding at them with a spatula as they form into something edible. When they’re decidedly done, he sprinkles salt over them and calls it quits. He figures Wilbur won’t be particular about his culinary abilities when his past appetite consisted of chocolate.

The idea makes his head hurt, thinking about how someone so human, even despite their sharp, obvious difference, could be locked away like how Wilbur had been.

Tommy could only imagine how dark it could’ve been—completely isolated from any kind of outside contact and intended to be thrown away, eaten like a piece of candy.

Must have been difficult.

“Pardon?” a small voice from behind him asks, and Tommy tenses. Had he said that out loud?

Tommy blinks, and suddenly his hand is moving on its own and folding the eggs into themselves to finish the dish.

Prime, he was tired as shit.

He moves to turn the stove off and sets the pan aside on another burner, then opens a cabinet and pulls a plate off of the lower shelf, the ceramic noises like nails on a chalkboard to him. The plate clinks as it’s set down, then Tommy retrieves the pan of eggs and stares at them, long and hard. Not his best work.

Discouragement aside, he pulls a fork out of a drawer and spoons on the helping of eggs onto the plate. Good enough for government work, huh? Wilbur won’t care, anyway.

He takes a fork from a nearby drawer, then spins around, (blinking away the throb in his eyes when the lights hit his face), and sets the plate down on the kitchen island, just a few respectable inches from Wilbur, who stood with his hand on his arm, standing noticeably awkward.

(*)

Food. Actual, real food. Albeit made in no time at all and served by a teenager in a New York apartment, but still something that was an honest, feasible replacement from his past diet.

He stares at it. Tommy’s attention turns away from him, and he still stares at the plate of eggs.

As Tommy was still distracted pulling up a chair from the other side of the counter, Wilbur steps forward cautiously and crouches down, peeling a small portion off of the eggs and stuffing it in his mouth. He swears to Prime that if Tommy were not nearly staring directly at him, Wilbur very well might have considered melting.

The eggs were not seasoned and they were not slow-cooked, but they were heaven. Were he a functioning member of society, (And assuming he was still very much mentally troubled after certain events), and Tommy was his waiter, he would give it a five out of five.

Carefully, Wilbur takes another piece off of the egg and gnaws at it, savoring the unadorned flavor with every aspect of his senses. The feeling of rubber, (Almost), which clashes with his usual expectation of soft-then-syrupy, the bland flavor that was absolutely new to him, and the bright yellow color that contrasted with the black that he always just imagined as color. His void always had been a playground for imagination.

“Thank you,” Wilbur says through a mouthful, to which Tommy smiles weakly and sits down—after much delay, as if Tommy could’ve felt as awkward as Wilbur did right now.

Tommy grabs a fork and grabs a tentative bite, then through a mouthful, mumbles: “No problem, mate.” Through the corner of his eye, Wilbur watches Tommy and tries not to snicker at the forced face the blond makes to push through his disapproval of the meal.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, this shit takes like heaven,” he says, smally but still loud enough for Tommy to hear.

“I think I’ll throw up if I have one more bite of this, It’s completely yours, then,” Tommy says, pushing the plate a little closer to Wilbur for emphasis. Wilbur shifts back on instinct, looking up anxiously at Tommy before calming down. Sorry,” Tommy adds quickly. Wilbur waves him off and takes a smaller piece of egg to chew on absentmindedly.

“The fucking chocolate has been making my teeth rot,” Wilbur says, huffing a bit like it’s a joke. Like one of those things to look back on and laugh at.

Tommy doesn’t seem amused, though. “That sounds awful, man,” he adds.

“It’s not anymore, ‘cause now someone’s gone and saved me,” Wilbur reassures, gesturing mildly to Tommy.

“You’re welcome!” Tommy says, smiling like a child who’s helped with a chore unprompted. His mood changes are unmatched, Wilbur notes duly.

After that, time passed slowly, and for once, there wasn’t dread that followed. Tommy had cleaned breakfast up, and Wilbur kept the silence away while talking about this and that, until Tommy announced he needed to get groceries for his last couple of weeks in New York. Tommy’s plan was to have Wilbur stay back, but he declined, and instead asked to tag along.

For that reason, he rested carefully on Tommy’s shoulder, back resting against Tommy’s neck, completely vulnerable.The thought of that concerned him; to think about how any one of these people could work for that god-awful facility he was sent to, or any one of them could be holding a borrower captive, or how any of these people could absolutely hate his kind, and here he was, out in the open for any of those people to see. It was worrisome, and that had him tightening the grip of the hem of his sweater.

Tommy was pleasingly quiet, though, and it was just the two of them listening to music. (Or as much music as he could hear from sitting under the human’s earbud.)

He would’ve thought it to be harder to stay on someone’s shoulder, but even from the start he was persistent on that spot, only because it would’ve been incredibly difficult for Tommy to reach him without Wilbur noticing first—although he had gotten a little bit on edge when Tommy reached up to fix his hair or adjust his earbud. Sure, the human made him food and had gotten him out of that wretched bag, and had seemed pretty genuine about not eating him, he still wasn’t ready to be hand-held or in his pocket where he couldn't see everything.

Also, it was warmer here. Tommy and his need to linger around chilled foods.

Wilbur looks around, through Tommy’s curls, staring at the variety of foods. They were too far for him to recognize, (Not that he would know any of them by heart, considering he grew up on things he could score on the counter), but it was still so refreshing to see something real.

Suddenly, as his eyes graze over something on a high shelf, someone walks past and locks eyes with him. Wilbur tenses. The lady tenses, stopping abruptly. Unfortunately for him, Tommy also stops to look at something.

The lady gives a curious, almost disgusted look, and Wilbur, not knowing what to do, proceeds to flip her off.

It was not until that motion Wilbur realized he was just caught doing something to absolutely draw attention to himself until he was much too late.

“You!” the lady says, rather loudly—definitely enough for Tommy to turn his attention to her. “Control that thing,” she finishes, a certain type of offensive dripping from her tongue that makes even Tommy tense. Wilbur flinches at her voice, somehow moving closer to Tommy despite being right up against his neck. He crosses his arms, some kind of half-frustrated-half-ready-to-cry feeling washing over him which leaves him stone-faced and unmoving.

Thing. A single word and suddenly he’s back at the factory, being manhandled and thrown into a container with other borrowers, some panicked, some angry, and some oddly accepting. Wilbur was angry, pissed. He had been granted freedom from being cooped up in the walls with nothing to do except get food whenever he ran out. And he finally got a chance to see the world, to walk on pavement made for people his size and be social. And he had, for a week, and then he had made a lucky call when trusting someone and gotten thrown into a bag not a day later, sealed in darkness.

When Tommy had found him, however-long later, he couldn’t say he saw someone with the intent to capture him again. He saw a savior, and maybe that’s why he was so relaxed. Reality felt there again. He felt like he existed, and he didn’t pinch himself every five minutes to check he was really there. His limbs weren’t numb, and he could hum to himself without it feeling like the only thing to do.

Back at the supermarket, blinking his way out of memories, he realizes Tommy hasn’t said anything back, he just scoffs and mutter’s a whispered ‘fucking bitch’, and walks off, right past the woman who murmurs something incoherent to Wilbur. (He still knows it was about him.)

At the very least, Wilbur has walked away from that situation now knowing words can’t hurt anymore in comparison to his situation just barely a few days ago.

“People are awful,” Tommy whispers under his breath.

Wilbur just pats Tommy’s shoulder.

“Aren’t you fucking revenge-seeking or some shit?”

“No. I’m not a child,” Wilbur explains, and Tommy hides his laughter at a low snicker.

“You’re a bitch,” Tommy whispers, turning away immediately at the look he got from a stranger in the aisle. Wilbur laughs whole-heartedly, the sound escaping despite how hard he tried not.

(*)

His head hurts, with thoughts going a mile a fucking minute. The scent of chocolate undoubtedly drifting from Wilbur on his shoulder was making a repetitive thought resurface no matter how much he wanted to shut it up.

Wilbur smelled appetizing. He knew he would taste even better.

But he knows he can’t act on his urges because even if swallowing a borrower was safe, he couldn’t. Not for Wilbur, because he just got off a near-death experience, and he can’t fuck up freedom even more for Wilbur by giving him essentially the exact same experience, no matter how reassuring he thought he could be.

So, instead, he chose comedy over a very real and threatening problem.

(*)

“You reek of chocolate,” Tommy murmurs, opening the door to the apartment and letting it shut loudly behind him. Wilbur flinches, but calms down just as quickly.

“I don’t remember seeing a mini-flat in the, uh, bag,” Wilbur retaliates.

Tommy, playfully, scoffs. “Well, like I think I could fill up a sink or something and you could get the grime off of you,” the blond offers.

Wilbur pauses for a moment. “I guess ..?” he says, slow and uncertain.The idea was more than pleasing, but at the same time, it felt like an awful offer to take up. He would be vulnerable in water, arguably something that he rarely had experience with outside of an unfortunately occasional shower whenever he could score it.

At his approval, Tommy guided the two of them to a bathroom, and carefully drew his hand up to where Wilbur was, not grabbing at him, but letting Wilbur carefully pad is way off of Tommy’s shoulder and onto his laid-out hand, where Wilbur got himself comfortable—while at the same time leaving time to sprint off if he needed to—and waited for Tommy to set him down onto the bathroom counter.

Shifting over to be in front of the sink, Tommy then pushes something inside the sink down, then pulls both handles to the sink forward, and leaves the flowing water gushing for a few seconds before shutting it off and stepping aside.

“That water will either be fucking freezing or room-temperature but I can’t exactly change that, so, uhm, just sit through it, I guess,” Tommy says. Wilbur can’t exactly tell if he was apologizing or not, but he appreciated the warning.

“Don’t have much of a choice,” Wilbur shrugs.

“That’s the spirit!” Tommy laughs, then grabs something off of a shelf, folding it over the counter but letting a corner of it fall into the sink, which Wilbur considers relieving; the sink seemed too deep for his liking.

But, even with the advantage of the towel, he still wasn’t convinced this was something he was looking forward to. From afar, he can feel Tommy’s stare on him. He turns his head that way, and catches Tommy’s strong gaze. Snapping out of some kind of pseudo-trance, Tommy moves closer to him and sets something in the sink.

“I can’t really portion out soap yet, but here’s a spare bar I haven’t opened yet. Should help; you smell so sweet I swear to fuck if you don’t take a bath I’m going swallow you on accident,” Tommy says, yawning. He fucking yawns, meanwhile Wilbur’s whole world halts. He stares up at Tommy, who he had just an hour ago been raving about his trust with.

He had heard Tommy right, no doubt.

“What?” Wilbur asks through his shock.

Tommy wrinkles his brows, then unwrinkles them as they raise high and his face goes more shocked than Wilbur’s.

“Oh—nononononono, Wilbur, fuck. Wil, I’m so tired, I fucking—I didn’t mean to say that,” Tommy backtracks immediately. Wilbur can’t say he buys it. “I didn’t fucking— I wasn’t thinking, fuck, I swear to Prime I don’t want to do that, I’d never—” Tommy makes a choked noise and cuts himself off.

Wilbur swallows, unsure of how to respond. Clearly, he has some kind of high-ground here despite being…well, him.

“I–uh,” Wilbur’s voice runs almost dry. “There’s no reason to lie,” Wilbur says.

Tommy’s face falls. “I’m not lying, I—I didn’t think about what I was saying, I’m a fucking idiot, I am not a..a thinker or whatever the fuck it’s called,” Tommy tries. Still. Persistent motherfucker.

“You’re thinking about that,though, aren’t you?”

“Uhh….well,” Tommy pauses. “As a joke..obv—obviously, you actually think I’d…want to hurt you like that?”

“Swallowing me isn’t going to hurt me.”

Tommy seemed a little taken-aback by that. “Mentally. It will mentally.” Wilbur shrugs at that, staring into the pool of water that’s gotten a little foamy the longer the soap bar floats around in it. “I, uh, think I’ll go. Put away groceries and shit.”

Wilbur watches intently Tommy pick his pace up and walk past him, (Where Wilbur’s attention was nowhere but Tommy’s hands, which remained eerily still), then out of the bathroom with a solemn click of the door.

And now, Wilbur has been left alone, after a particularly jarring comment that leaves him wondering just how much longer Tommy will go playing the good guy. He did have to be thinking about swallowing him to have said it, accidentally or not. It was an intentional thought. He wasn’t that stupid.

Trying to drive his attention away from his inevitable fate, he turns his attention to the sink. The water’s temperature has probably dropped already, so with slight hesitation, he undresses and finds a way into the sink, (Which in the end was trying-to-inch-his-way-down-then-falling-in), then rests with the feeling of water against him. It was an alien feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. He waved his hand around the soapy water and heard it whoosh around him. That was real. The sink bowl that towered above him was real, and as he touched it, it felt cold and slippery against his touch.

Wilbur looks up, and the light fixture above him burns into his eyes. That was real.

He pinches himself. That was real, and he was still alive, through the world of darkness for only a lonely period of his life that’s over now.

—–—

#mw #brickfic #wilbur chocolate au #cw vore mention #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #dream smp g/t #dream smp gt #t!wilbur #tiny!wilbur #g!tommy #giant!tommy #WOOHOOoo!!!!! eight months later ^_^#thanks for breaking 100 notes on the other 2 chapters btw !! i am so hype about that :D

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dagaan · 7 months

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The next chapter (10) of The Eel is done! You can give it a looksee over here if you want.

#splatoon #my writing #this chapter took so long I’m sorry #rubbing my two brain cells together to get a spark takes a while you know #hmmrghhh okay well #utsufuu #shivrye #also I’m so sorry but I need you to know #the small crisis I had wondering if I’m writing splatoon vore #which. I guess. it technically is.#anyway I’m leaving forever #change da world #my final message #good bye #actually one more thing #this chapter was going to have art #but I didn’t want to wait to post any longer so maybe I’ll draw later #ig it already does if you scroll a bit

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luckyshotwrites · 1 year

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wait sorry if i just missed some lore but what’s a bind?

Hey hey! Let me see if I can help you out!

They were briefly talked about in Day 22 - Life Festival Day 1 (Oct. 7th, Friday) Part 3 between Alexander and Lynette.

And talked about a little more in Day 25 - All alone, are you? (Oct. 10th, Monday) Part 2 between Alexander and his doctor CJ.

There is a lot more with binds/certain kinds that have not explained but will once it comes to a certain chapter or two. So if you got caught up with these, you are in the lore loop, it simply has not been dived in enough. I cannot say anymore, because I feel the spoil coming on. xD

Thank you so much for the ask! I hope this answered it!! Have a NONNEGOTIABLE wonderful day!~~~

#widfali ask #vore story question #vore writing #If I could spoil so much I WOULD you have no idea how many times a later chapter plays in my mind #AHHh! Anyway #I'm going to vanish before I say too much #ANYONE READING THIS HAVE A GREAT DAY TOO!

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vore-mpregfan57 · 8 days

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Late Night Library Snack

(A vore story starting AbigChris)

It was another night at the library preparing for finals. It was pouring rain outside as I fingered chapter 5 of the 27 chapter text book. I kept reading, but I soon looked up after finishing chapter 8, and to my surprise, there was no one in the library. I then check the time, and I realized the library had closed about 15 minutes ago.

I quickly packed up my stuff and went to the exit, but when I tried to the door open, it wouldn’t budge. I then remembered that the library locked automatically, and I realized I was stuck in the library till morning.

Just then, I heard footsteps behind me, and I turned around to see a tall man standing behind me. He asked me if the door was locked, and I said yeah, and I told him that we were stuck for the night. He then held his hand out and introduced himself to me, telling me his name was Chris.

Me and Chris then spent the next little bit getting to know each other, considering it was dark and we were stuck for the night. As we chatted, I could hear his stomach growling, and at one point, it growled so loud that no one could ignore it. I asked him if he was hungry, and he said yeah and told me he hadn’t eaten in a few hours. He then looked me up and down, then he asked me if I wanted to help him out, and I knew exactly what he meant, and I excitedly agreed.

I then asked Chris if he wanted me to get more “comfortable”, and he said I could decide that. I said alright, then quickly took off my t-shirt and basketball shorts. I then looked at Chris, and he smirked and said I looked good shirtless. My face instantly turned bright red, and he didn’t hesitate for a second, and within a few moments, I was curled up inside his belly.

After landing inside his stomach, I was surprised to feel no burning, and I asked him if he had taken an anti-acid pill, and he said no, but he then told me that his stomach acid was just at a really low level, and he said that it would probably take a few weeks to fully digest me. I said alright, then I asked him if he was planning on digesting me, and he told me that he would let me decide once we got out of the library.

We then spent the rest of the night talking and just enjoying each other’s company. It honestly felt weird being inside a stomach and being slowly digested without panicking, but I honestly felt safe inside Chris, dispute knowing that I was slowly becoming his meal.

Around 8am, while me and Chris were talking about a campus event that happened a few days ago, he told me he hears a sound, and he went to the front entrance and saw the door open. He then grabbed my stuff and his stuff, and we left the library.

Once we were out, he asked me if I wanted to stay inside him and become his meal or if I wanted to come out a see another day. I then look around me. I looked at the pool of acid that was starting to tingle around me. I looked at the pieces of granola bar floating in front of me. I then looked inside myself and at my life. After a few moments, I said that I would stay inside and become his meal.

The next few days were amazing. Chris went to his finals, and my body slowly started to dissolve. By the 2nd morning, my underwear had complete dissolved, and I was nude inside his stomach. By day 5, I could see little bits of a my skin starting flake off. Throughout all of this, Chris talked to me and kept me company, and I felt safe. Even though I was slowly digesting, I was happier than I had been my entire college experience.

Around day 8, I started to feel weak. I thanked Chris for giving me a great last few days, and he said that it was his pleasure. Later that night, I lost consciousness, and over the course of the next few days, my entire body fell into the acid, and by week 3, I had dissolved and become observed by Chris’s body, adding to his belly, ass, and thighs.

This is Chris writing now. He was a great meal, but had even better friend. He will forever be remembered on my body, and I even got a tattoo of his name on my arm. Goodbye little buddy. You were amazing in every way.

#male pred #male vore

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toast-tales · 3 months

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Cursed Cravings: A retold, g/t story of Beauty and the Beast, with a sinister twist.

When he declines to help a beggar woman, wealthy aristocrat Christopher Penn was cursed to adopt a giant form with a terrible, monstrous burden, and the conditions to break the curse seem all but impossible. When a peasant girl, Danny, agrees to take her friend's place as Christopher's captive, he realizes that she may be the last hope of regaining his humanity and breaking the spell for good.

But who could ever care for a monster like him?

This will be an AU of ITWOM involving some familiar characters like Christopher, Danny, Sam, and Nathan - but you don't have to have read the main story to read this one. Lots of things will be changed around, so for all intents and purposes, these aren't the characters you know.

This story will contain g/t, angst, and soft/safe vore later down the road. It's still going to be a lighter read than ITWOM, but be warned nonetheless! This isn't the Beauty and the Beast story you know from Disney.

Read Chapter 1 below:

Chapter 1: Dark Night of the Soul

Contains: ~2k words | Chapter Index | Read this story on A03!

It was a night like many others, the night that Christopher Penn's life was changed forever.

A deluge had begun that evening, torrential rain bearing down upon the land with fierce strikes of lightning and thunder rattling the large windows of the mansion—but all this meant for Christopher and his guests was that they wouldn't be able to enjoy the garden out back, and their merriment was restricted to the large indoor space. The music still swelled and filled the air pleasantly, rising above the sounds of the storm outside and making it easy for the partygoers to forget how unpleasant it was outside the walls of Christopher's house.

The host in question flitted from person to person throughout the evening, engaging in the usual small talk and jokes, an easy and charming smile lighting up his face and those of the people he met with. He was a gracious and charismatic host, always making sure that his parties were the grandest, with his guests never wanting for anything. The people in attendance would speak highly of his events, of the balls and the dinner parties, that he was so keen to host.

On the surface, Christopher seemed rather at ease, full of a charm and grace that would be befitting of someone from a wealthy family. But his actions were all surface level—each word and step he took was carefully choreographed and planned in advance. He was terrified, truly—each person he brought into his home was a potential ally, a potential for advancing his status, but they were also a potential seed to his own destruction.

Christopher had spent every day since his parents had passed rebuilding his family's reputation among the nobility. He could see past their charm—they despised his parents, and in turn, they despised him. His own reputation—the very thing that allowed him to live in such comforts still, to have any amount of power and social standing at all—was fragile and tenuous, and every interaction he had, no matter how seemingly insignificant it was, was an attempt to maintain its strength.

And so, while he seemed completely comfortable in this element, there was a latent anxiety in Christopher, hidden well beneath the surface.

He almost didn’t hear the knock at the door at first, wrapped up as he was in conversation. But his manservant rushed to his side, rather insistently dragging him away.

“I’m sorry, Chris, she just won’t leave without speaking to you.” Sam’s stride was brisk, and they gave Christopher no choice but to follow. He offered a quick and profuse apology to the noblewoman he’d been entertaining before he caught up to Sam.

“You’re not able to send her away?” Christopher hissed, somewhat tersely. “I can’t be interrupted by every stranger that shows up here. I have guests to attend to.”

“Hey, I tried!” Sam insisted. “I’m just one guy, and I also have guests of yours to attend to. She keeps coming back. All she wants is a quick word with you. Just humor her, and she’ll be out of your hair.” Sam ran their fingers somewhat anxiously through their own well-groomed locks. “We can just deal with it quietly, before she causes a scene. Some of the guests near the front door are getting a little antsy about it.”

Christopher sighed wearily as he followed Sam to the main entrance. Perhaps if he had more staff, this wouldn’t be a problem. Most of the house’s staff had left in the fallout of his parents’ demise, with the sole exception being Sam—his personal servant who’d remained as doggedly loyal to him as they had the first day they’d been assigned to care for him. He’d never let on to his guests, but Christopher worked with Sam every day to keep the house in order, even helping cook the meals and clean. He had to keep up appearances as best he could.

Sam pulled the grand front door open to reveal a woman on the other side—a pauper in beggar’s clothes, tattered and rain-soaked, hunched on his front stoop as she gazed up at Christopher.

Christopher stood up straight and directed a cold, stern look towards the woman. He could feel several sets of eyes on him, and knew that there was a group of aristocrats watching the scene intently. He adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves idly as he spoke, as if he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to the woman at all.

“I’m afraid you will have to leave. I have no room for beggars here.”

The woman shivered slightly, tilting her head up further to meet Christopher’s face. Her eyes were wide and glassy, her face lined with creases from age and stress. “P-please, kind sir, I only need to come in from the storm for a short while. I won’t be any trouble. I…I haven’t eaten in days-”

The people nearby began to whisper, a touch of disgust coloring their tone.

“This is an exclusive event,” Christopher interjected firmly. “There is a certain decorum that must be maintained. Please leave, or I will contact the authorities to escort you away.”

If he had been at home alone that evening, he might have afforded some manner of small comfort towards the woman. But he couldn’t be seen sullying his hands with the poor here.

A pleading, desperate look came to the woman’s face, her features falling into despair. “Sir, I will not survive the night!” Her voice was hoarse and rough, as if sandpaper scraped against the inside of her throat. “You would turn me away, to the mercy of the storm?”

Her cries had gotten louder—more of his guests had turned to look and whisper among themselves, casting uncertain and hesitant glances Christopher’s way. He didn’t need to hear them to know what they were all saying.

What kind of place is this, where the host entertains beggars?

He is no better than his parents, mingling with such filth.

He doesn’t belong here.

He is not one of us.

He set his jaw and made his stance firm, his dark eyes fixed sharply down at the beggar. He couldn’t let this go on further. “Leave. Your welfare is not my concern.”

The woman’s face became suddenly sharper, each crease and wrinkle fading to a more youthful visage, and her muddy, round eyes transformed to piercing, golden ones. She no longer hunched, but stood straight up, rising to a height that forced even Christopher to look up in awestruck terror.

“THEN YOU WILL HAVE BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS, CHRISTOPHER PENN.”

Her tattered clothes transformed to flowing white robes upon her dark skin, her hair now falling in neat and lovely braids down her back, adorned with gold.

She cast a scornful, acidic gaze towards Christopher as she looked down on him, each fiber of her being radiating with malice.

His heart stopped beating—the entire world seemed to have gone silent, save for the strikes of thunder that almost seemed to accentuate every word this woman spoke. Her voice boomed with an unnatural volume throughout the entire hall. He didn’t need to turn around to know that every single person in attendance had heard.

He did his best to hide the quaking in his limbs. He couldn’t lose his composure, even now. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice escaping as nothing but a whisper.

The woman scowled at him, her expression one of pure poison. He could feel himself withering beneath it, despite all his efforts to keep calm.

“You would not remember me, for the faces you entertain here are simply passing flights of fancy to you. I was your guest, Penn. And I saw past your charm. You use people for your own gain, grasping onto what little power you have like a pathetic child, desperate to rise above your place in the world.”

She pointed an accusing finger towards him. “You have a vile, black heart, so cruel that you would send a woman away to her death when she asks for but a little kindness.”

“Hey!” Sam spoke up, a little timidly beside Christopher. “You can’t talk about him like-”

“SILENCE.” A loud strike of thunder shook the entire house, rattling the foundation and carrying the woman’s voice to the ears of every patron once again. A blistering wind tore through the open door, making the curtains tremble in its wake.

Christopher thought that something seemed familiar about the woman—he felt as though he could recall a conversation with her, and she surely must have been at one of his parties. He searched for a name desperately, frantically wracking his brain for this woman’s identity.

“...Sybil?” he croaked, every ounce of confidence having long since left his body. His knees began to tremble, and he worried that they would soon give out completely. “Y-you may come in, I am so very sorry to have offended-”

“You have already failed, Penn. Now you repent, for you see my true form, and the power I wield.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Your fate has already been sealed.”

The world was swallowed in darkness within only the span of a moment, and the screams of Christopher’s guests and Sam became drowned out by an all-encompassing blackness that surrounded him, choking the air from his lungs, squeezing his ribcage until he thought he would burst from the pressure. He could not speak, he could not move, he could not see. If not for the excruciating pain shooting through every fiber of his being, he would have thought he was dead.

“You will no longer hide behind your tawdry facade. A monster within, so a monster you shall become.”

Sybil’s voice came from all around him, like a harsh winter wind that froze the blood in his veins as it passed over him. Her words had weight to them, laden with something powerful, and far beyond this world’s understanding.

His body was changing, but in what manner, he had no way to tell. All he could feel was pain—pain and a clawing hunger, like an animal inside of his stomach ripping and tearing at the flesh within, desperate to break out. His head throbbed as sounds swirled in his mind, indistinguishable from each other as they rose into a crescendo of noise, and the silence turned to a deafening cacophony. Voices, screams, shouting, but no words he could make out. He thought that he could hear Sam, amidst all the chaos, but he couldn’t be sure.

And then, before the darkness of his vision cleared to reveal the full extent of the horror that awaited him, he was assaulted by the wave of a strong smell he couldn’t place, a scent that filled his lungs and made the desperate animal within his gut writhe and twist in agony. It was like the scent of the finest wine, the most tantalizing food in existence, in such a great amount that it was overwhelming—even though, in those few moments of blissful ignorance, he had no idea what it was that delighted his senses so, that made the pain almost forgotten, that made every bone of his ache with an almost feral hunger.

His eyes opened with frantic urgency, and the scene before him unfolded slowly into a horrifyingly clear depiction of the gruesome fate that had been thrust upon him. He could barely see the faces of the ones he’d invited here, but their frightened screams spoke loudly enough. No words came to his own mouth—he was frozen in horror, like an insect trapped in amber as the weight of what happened sunk in, pressing down upon him like a suffocating, terrible gravity.

Despite his transformation, Sybil’s words rang as clear in his head as they had before.

“Ten years, Penn. Ten years to prove yourself, or this form will be your prison.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Next Chapter ->

Thanks for reading! I hope to update this story semi-consistently, because boy do I have some things planned down the road. So stay tuned!

#cursed cravings #itwom #g/t writing #g/t stories #g/t angst #vore stories #vore writing #g/t vore #gt vore #safe vore #soft vore #sfw vore #toast arts #beauty and the beast au #please click for the full quality of the image LOL #tumblr killed all the pixels and I'm very proud of those pixels :(

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voraciousvore · 23 days

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Giganterra (Chapter 20)

Prologue/ TOC | Previous (19) | Next (21)

Content Warning: soft, safe unwilling vore; vulgar language

Word Count: 2.8k

------ Chapter 20: Lobster Dinner ------

Bucky loved to boil lobsters. He’d just procured some fresh seafood from the market, and he was elated to cook it for dinner. He heated up a big vat of water until it bubbled and grabbed one of the monstrous crustaceans from the tank. He observed the creature rotating its claws and legs uselessly before dropping it into the searing water. The lobster screamed and thrashed as the water hissed, frothed, splashed, and emitted a billowing cloud of steam. Bucky grinned.

“Gore!” he shouted over the screeching noise. “Get over here!”

“What NOW?! I’m BUSY!” the redheaded chef yelled back from across the room. He was hunched over, mincing garlic and green onion with aggressive knife chops. Bucky lumbered over when Gore refused to come to him and slapped the distracted chef hard on the ass.

Gore jumped and spun around with rage, brandishing the knife. “What the hell, Bucky?! I almost sliced my finger off!” He jabbed the knife towards Bucky in a threatening gesture, but his face was as red as his beard.

Bucky belted out a guffaw that made his belly jiggle like a tub of jello. “You would’ve deserved it for not listening to me, you fat fuck,” he declared. “I need you to cook these lobsters.”

“Yeah, sure,” Gore grumbled, slashing the knife through the air once more before stabbing it into the wooden cutting board and shouldering his way past his boss. Bucky reared his hand up, ready to swat his butt a second time, but Gore spotted him through his peripherals and swung around in a flash.

“Don’t you dare!” he snarled, shaking his fist and continuing to blush furiously. Bucky cackled.

“Where in the hell is Chef Cruor? CRUOR!!” Bucky bellowed, searching the kitchen. He found the weary chef over in the corner, huddled over something. “Cruor! You slacker! What are you doing now?”

Cruor turned around quickly, flustered. “N-nothing important, why?” He had one hand braced on the counter, and the other behind his back, as if he were concealing a shameful secret.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “What are you hiding there, Cruor?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Cruor answered, but he didn’t move a muscle. When Bucky circled around him to see, Cruor tensed up.

“What’s this? A jar?” Bucky wrenched the jar away from the other giant, who seemed upset but didn’t protest. Bucky squinted to see the tiny denizen inside. Addison was plastered against the glass wall away from his face, hyperventilating. “A human?”

“That’s the underweight human that King Richard ordered us to fatten up,” Cruor explained swiftly. “I was just feeding her extra, so she’ll be back to full health faster.” He bit his lip.

Bucky gave him a long look. “Alright, Cruor. But I need you to fix up the risotto already. Quit dawdling; dinner approaches!”

“Of course, right away. Um…” Cruor reached his hands out for the jar, flexing his fingers. Bucky carelessly shoved the jar back into his grasp and strode off. Cruor cringed as he heard a plink against the glass from Addison being flung forcefully into the side. Once he was sure his boss was out of earshot, he raised the jar up to his face to check on her.

“I’m sorry about that, little one,” he murmured, quiet enough for no other giants to overhear him. “Are you hurt?” He exhaled with relief when he saw the tiny woman shake her head. “I have to work, but I’ll be back later before the end of my shift, okay?” He smiled before carefully returning the jar to its spot on the shelf, placing some other odds and ends in front of it to obscure her from sight. He didn’t want any of the other chefs messing with her.

The fatigue drained back into Cruor’s body once he was away from Addison. He made the risotto like Bucky ordered. He plated three servings, accompanied by Gore’s lobsters and fresh salad. Cruor made sure to leave an inconspicuous glob of risotto in the pot for Addison. The last ingredients for royal consumption would be the humans, one for each dinner. Cruor chose Iris, since he knew she wouldn’t raise a fuss, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with any nonsense. He tucked her into the salad, drizzling her with a light dressing for extra flavor. She stared vacantly into the distance with glassy eyes.

Gore grabbed up Eren, who clawed and bit at his fingers and screeched like a banshee. Gore ignored her ruckus, and tried to bury her in the risotto, but she kept digging her way out and throwing globs of the creamy rice at him. A vein popped out on his temple as the giant waxed in wrath.

“Quit that!” he snapped. He squeezed her hard between his fingers, making her gasp in pain, and pinched her midsection in one of the lobster claws. She cursed and flailed, but the claw pinned her to the plate. The crusty appendage was too heavy for her to push apart or lift. After a moment of thought, Gore took a few grains of rice and stuffed them into her mouth to shut her up. The rice was so thick that she struggled to spit it out or chew it. He cut off a thread of the twine used to tie the lobster claws shut and wrapped it around her head as a makeshift gag, then secured her arms to her sides.

Jackie watched Eren fight and understood that struggle was pointless. She involuntarily cried out when Cruor picked her up, despite how gentle he was with his fingers, but did not resist. He planted her into the salad and dressed her with vinaigrette. Then, each human was supplied with a drop of the anti-digestion potion. With the food ready, a servant whisked away the plate and carried it to the dining room. Jackie’s heart was thumping fast in her chest as she bounced in the salad, tossed alongside gigantic chunks of tomatoes big enough to sit in like chairs, croutons as wide as tables, and tablecloths of lettuce: a full dining set of salad.

Besides the sound of Eren’s muffled swearing, Jackie became aware of heavy breathing above her. She craned her head back, and her heart spasmed as she beheld Chester leering over her, devouring her desperately with his eyes. She whipped around with a shudder, trying to ignore the massive, creepy predator leaning over her. He wouldn’t snatch her up and eat her, right? She was intended for… someone else. Jackie thought of the king and felt like vomiting. Chester was bad enough, but the king was far worse.

The plates were brought into the dining room, where the giant royal family members were sitting in a strained silence. Jackie’s heart and stomach sank into her intestines as her plate was set in front of King Richard, who flashed his huge teeth in a grotesque grin. Jackie froze up under his gaze, too scared to even scream. The giant man licked his lips hungrily.

Iris was given to Bianca; neither of them had much of a reaction, since even Bianca seemed glazed and distant, her mind focused on other matters. Eren was presented to Ronny, who looked down at the wriggling human with disdain. She bucked against her bonds and punched and shoved at the lobster claw, still incapable of dislodging it. She gnashed her jaws against the overflowing mouthful of rice to get rid of the gag. She glared daggers at Chester when he came over and sampled Ronny’s food to check for poison. Chester moved on to Bianca’s plate, clearing her dinner for consumption before going to the head of the table.

Chester lingered on the king’s dinner. He slurped up his excess spit and labored to control his urges as he bent down over Jackie, drinking in her tantalizing aroma, her pristine features and figure. He was sorely tempted to scoop her up in his mouth, or tell the king she was contaminated with poison and spirit her away, but he knew those foolish actions would not be without consequences. He found an excuse to gently graze her with his finger as he took a small portion from each part of the meal. A shade of pink tinted his cheeks, despite his best efforts to repress his feelings. Jackie stared up at his vast face with a combination of fear and curiosity as she noted his reaction.

“Chester, is there a problem with the food?” King Richard questioned, a sharp edge of impatience in his tone. He was hungry.

“No, it’s fine,” Chester replied, stepping back from the table and hiding his face so Hardon wouldn’t spot him blushing. Ajax glowered at Chester darkly. Chester turned away and excused himself from the dining room.

Eren finally managed to choke down the risotto stopping up her mouth and shifted the twine off her face. “Go fuck yourself, you filthy brute!” she screamed up at Ronny. “You giants are vile! You disgust me! You should be ashamed of yourselves for hurting innocents!”

Ronny’s eyebrows twitched downward with irritation. “Take that back, you insolent little worm,” he growled.

“Never! Rot in hell, bastard child! Your parents should be ashamed of you! You’re a pathetic excuse for a man!”

Ronny’s dark eyes flashed. “I’m going to make you pay for that.” He picked up his lobster cracker tool and inserted the claw that Eren was trapped in between the metal jaws. He crushed the exoskeleton with an earsplitting crack that made Eren blanch. The heavy claw she’d been struggling with was demolished with a simple squeeze of the prince’s hand. He maneuvered the cracker around her body, so her ribcage was pinned precariously between the jagged metal teeth.

“That will be your bones cracking next if you open your mouth again,” Ronny snarled. Eren gaped, unable to speak as terror overwhelmed her. She realized the giant prince was deathly serious. He would kill her without remorse, just because she annoyed him. She closed her mouth and clenched her teeth. She had a fighting spirit, but not a death wish.

Ronny took his lobster fork and cut through the twine around her arms. He pulled her out of the claw, dangled her over his open mouth, and dropped her inside. He rolled her over with his tongue, appreciating her continued efforts to struggle despite her fear. She had a rich, meaty flavor that paired well with the garlic butter on the lobster. He swallowed her and sighed as he felt her tiny wiggling body drop into his stomach.

King Richard didn’t comment, but smiled with approval as he watched his son torment the tiny being on his plate. Perhaps his plan was working after all, and his son would harden his heart to become fit to rule Giganterra. He directed his attention to Bianca, who was stirring her risotto absently with her fork and eating small bites.

“What’s going on, Bianca? You've hardly touched your dinner, and you haven’t eaten your human.”

She snapped out of her daze. “Oh! Um... I ate all three of my men earlier, so my stomach’s a little upset from having them all moving around in there,” she lied. In reality, she felt guilty about hurting and eating Gio earlier, and she was going through a mental crisis, but she didn’t want to admit that to her father.

King Richard accepted her words at face value, but Ronny watched her with his dark eyes pensively. He could tell she wasn’t telling the truth, and something was troubling her. He wondered if her mood had something to do with that odd question she asked of him earlier, about talking to his human. He brushed off the uncomfortable feeling and resumed his dinner. He was only speculating, after all, and he didn’t really care about his vapid sister’s feelings anyway. She was probably just moping over something stupid and shallow, as usual.

King Richard hadn’t eaten Jackie yet. He was dragging out the moment, thoroughly enjoying her terror as he shredded his lobster. He cracked the joints with deliberate force and tore apart the meat with the lobster fork, maintaining eye contact with her the entire time, as if scaring her would tenderize her for increased flavor. Once his appetite was sufficiently whetted, he nudged her onto his fork and raised her up to his lips. Jackie clung to the fork for dear life, transfixed by the huge maw that opened before her, the tongue beckoning her inside.

She only had a moment to contemplate the horror before she was thrust onto the wet slab of meat. The jaws slammed shut, clicking the teeth together, and tongue rolled beneath her and curled around her. She whimpered with misery as she was drenched in saliva, thrown around inside the giant mouth, and caressed on every inch of her skin, unable to resist the superior force of the muscular tongue. The yawning gullet flexed around her as she was rammed inside headfirst and plunged down the throat.

Jackie was helpless as she journeyed down the long, cramped esophagus, with her arms smashed to her sides. She could barely even paddle her legs, with the meat walls tightening around her. The incandescence from her skin, caused by the magic potion, illuminated the slick, suffocating walls around her, so she could see her descent down the internal chasm and the regular pulsing of the living walls. The heat was sweltering, and the air stifling, particularly as she got closer to the stomach below and inhaled the burning fumes. She was finally pushed through via powerful muscular contractions and flopped into the acid pit below, floundering and gasping.

Jackie took several minutes to recover from the excruciating ordeal of being swallowed. She stared numbly at the churning flesh walls, rocked in the rippling pool of disintegrating lobster and risotto, which were transformed into unrecognizable mush. Before long, over the sound of the splashing, gurgling, booming, and whooshing of the giant organs, Jackie became dimly aware of echoing sobs inside the chamber. She looked around with bewilderment, realizing she was not alone, only to find that Candy was curled up in the folds of stomach lining, bawling her eyes out.

“Oh, Candy, you poor girl! How long have you been in here?” Jackie called to her, sloshing through the muck to reach her.

“H-h-hours,” Candy blubbered. “I-I tried to do everything I could to placate the king, but he got hungry and decided to eat me anyways.” She sniffled pathetically and attempted to wipe her eyes, despite being soaked in fluid.

“I’m so sorry, Candy,” Jackie murmured. She hated to see the formerly cheerful girl so downtrodden. She wrapped her arms around Candy in a hug to comfort her.

“I should’ve never come here,” Candy lamented. “I was just so lonely. I thought that handsome giant knight would take me before we got to the castle—I sincerely believed we were fated to each other—b-b-but he didn’t even want to touch me... he just abandoned me...” She cried harder, burying her face into Jackie’s shoulder. “I can’t take this anymore!”

Jackie squeezed her tighter, but inside she felt a cold chill. Her own situation was abysmal enough, but she couldn’t imagine the hell that Candy was going through, as a favorite of the king. Being forced to always be with him, a slave to his every whim and lustful thought... she shivered. She couldn’t stand to see the innocent girl’s suffering, just as she couldn’t stand to see Iris as a living corpse.

“Don’t worry, Candy, we’ll get you out of this somehow,” she assured her, stroking her dirty wet hair. “We’ll find a way...” She didn’t have any confidence in her words as she ruminated over their dismal circumstances. What could she possibly do? How could she stop any of the abuse, when she was so small and powerless? She thought back to the words of the human king, when he tasked them with assassinating the giant king, and perceived how hollow those words were, when the humans had no power to resist.

The cogs in her mind turned endlessly, as tireless as the rhythmic movements of the stomach interior from digesting the giant king’s dinner. Candy continued to sob in her arms, lacerating her heart with fresh wounds. Jackie knew she couldn’t do anything on her own. She would need help.

Help. But who would possibly help her? What giant would even bother to listen to her, much less take an interest in what she had to say? King Charles did say to exploit any weaknesses and use any influence the humans could garner to accomplish their goal. Jackie’s innards somersaulted and weakness entered her knees as the answer slowly dawned on her, as terrifying and repulsive as it was.

Chester.

Chapter 21

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lizard-shifter-noms · 2 months

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Still Subject to Change Chapter 9 (NEW)

——————————————————————————-

Hello everyone! i decided to repost arc 1 of SSTC

(the chapters were way too long and had a bunch of typos but hopefully this will make reading easier)

this Story contains Vore, Dont like dont read.

if there are still any grammatical errors i'm sorry.

——————————————————————————

Seeing the forest come closer I was actually relieved to finally be out of here and looked over my shoulder to see that the tower really was built to keep big Monsters in there with its thick walls and embedded spikes.

I shuddered and hoped I would never see this thing again, so turning back I instead focused on the treeline and not stepping on anyone.

Yep, still weird to think about that I could end someone's life with a single misstep and I tried not to think about it, and instead just drag my feet over the ground so that if someone were to be there they'd get toppled over and not squished under me.

Reaching the Forest's edge I assumed that they would let us go now, but it seemed we were still too close to their Kingdom so we had to walk into the forest even further.

I didn't dare speak out of fear that they would shoot me, but Robin seemed to have no such concerns.

“When are we there? I want to talk to Donovan, also where's Arthur?”

I tensed at his last Question accidentally squishing Arthur a tiny bit making him move more than before and I hurried to hold my breath and cut off his air supply, however that worked.

He stopped moving after a few seconds but this sure had been a scare, if he had woken up and someone noticed it we would have been fucked.

I still felt incredibly guilty but it couldn't be helped, I just hoped he'd understand.

I almost missed the guy's answer as I was busy holding my breath and my attention was focused more… inwards.

“Oh you can talk to your big friend later ALLLLLL you want as for this Arthur guy? He's been taken care of don't worry”

I did Not like the condescending tone the Guard had used but I couldn't really do anything about it which frustrated me even more.

At least Rikaad was able to step between them and shot a death glare at the offending guard who actually backed up a bit.

We continued walking in silence, safe for the Guards communicating amongst themselves.

I could feel Arthur lying limply against my insides, only moving occasionally and sending a thrill up my nervous system whenever he made a bigger movement.

I tried to Ignore it but since he was literally inside me that was near impossible, and I couldn't help but worry about the feeling.

What if that's what the Bracelet made me do? What if one day it urged me to eat someone for real?

Shoving these thoughts down I instead focused on the road so I wouldn't trip, and I could see that the tower was a bit further away now.

I really hoped they would just let us be already but it seemed that we were still too close to the Kingdom for their comfort.

At this point we had already passed the spot where I got shot at and were led even deeper into the woods towards the mountain.

Coming to a bigger clearing they ushered Robin and Rikaad to be in the center and threw both of them a bag, probably their own stuff judging by the clunking sound of metal.

The Guards still surrounded me, but I wanted them to go away already so I could talk to Robin and try to find a spot where I could let Arthur out so Rikaad wouldn't see it.

Arthur himself was still peacefully asleep, courtesy of a low oxygen environment and had thankfully not woken up during all of this.

But I did dread the part where he would, I didn't know how he would react and it scared me.

I also had to fight to keep my hand from settling over the warm lump in my core so as to not give away anything to the Guards.

The Guards walked around me to stand at the treeline of the small clearing, I didn't move as I really didn't want to step on someone.

Suddenly a Horse came up with an ironclad knight on its back.

The rider removed the helmet and i could see that it was the king, nobody else i knew had such a monobrow.

Did he follow us? I immediately became worried, Would he tell the others that I ate Arthur? I hoped not.

The guards all stood in a line next to him with their crossbows loaded.

I had a bad feeling about this and I was proven right as the king suddenly had a wicked grin on his face.

“SOLDIER! AIM! SHOOT THE BEAST! I WILL NOT TOLERATE SUCH A MONSTER NEAR MY KINGDOM!”

Aa all the Guards suddenly aimed their crossbows at me.

I didn't even wait to see what they would do and Instead turned to run in the opposite direction, snatching up Robin and Rikaad as I did so and getting the hell away from there as fast as I could.

Ignoring Rikaads surprised shout i just ran towards the mountains to bring as much distance between us and Maringand as possible making sure to not drop either of them.

Feeling Arthur start to move again I held my breath once more hoping that he'd fall back asleep even with all the movement.

It took longer than before and sprinting while not breathing made my lungs burn but after about three minutes he was still again.

I really hoped none of the others had noticed him squirming but glancing down while running showed that Rikaad was focused on the way we came, probably looking for any pursuers and Robin was just Clinging to my fingers.

I ran until I could no more, occasionally holding my breath to prevent Arthur from waking up.

I didn't really know how long I had been running but as I looked back I could not see the tower anymore and it was well after midday.

I sank to my knees gently letting Robin and Rikaad to the ground while I panted, my lungs burned from running and holding my breath and I did my best to calm down as fast as possible.

I did not want Arthur to wake up now from all this, not now at least.

I was still trying to figure out how to handle this and having him wake up now would be extremely awkward.

Rikaad seemed to stand Guard and looked in the direction we came from.

“We should continue after you rested, then we can figure out what happened to Arthur and how to get him back”

Ah fuck i really needed to make a plan.

Looking at Robin instead to make sure he was alright too and I didn't grab him too harshly I saw him staring at me, or more specifically my middle.

While I sat there I had unconsciously put a hand over my Pouch where Arthur lay and I yanked it back, looking at Robin and putting a finger over my lips to tell him to never say a word about it.

He nodded but still tilted his head at me with curious look in his eyes, i would tell him later what had happened, when I got the chance to do that without Rikaad listening in.

Being hunched over like this made the weight in my core just a lot more prominent as Arthur was lying on what was previously the front wall.

Getting up again and holding my breath anew even if I still felt like I needed more time to rest.

And feeling Arthur slide around in my pouch when I was hunched over was a bit weird.

I wanted to go as far away as possible as fast as possible from that place so I forced myself to continue on.

“Alright let's go i want to never go near that hellhole again we can worry about Arthur when i'm sure i wont get shot again”

I slowly stood up and went to walk even more towards the mountain.

I was glad that riding on horseback through the woods was not a good idea, otherwise we'd have to worry about that too right now.

Holding my breath again I went in the direction of the mountains in a straight line, not like there were any roads here anyway.

Robin scrambled after me and Rikaad started to walk faster too to keep up.

“It is going to be dark soon we should look for a campsite if possible”

At Rikaads words i looked around, it was indeed getting darker, How long had i been running?

No matter right now I needed to get Arthur out without the others or at least Rikaad noticing and I still didn't have a plan on how to do that.

So we ended up setting up a temporary camp near a river, still far enough to not be able to see said river but close enough to get water, and I felt extremely awkward the entire time.

I had their Friend within me for fucks sake! And the only one that didn't know was Rikaad at this point.

It didn't help that I had to fight with myself to keep my hands from straying to settle onto my middle.

If Rikaad did notice my odd behavior he didn't say anything about it luckily.

I kept frequently holding my breath to make sure Artur did not wake up and hoped to God that this wouldn't give him brain damage from the low oxygen he had been exposed to for some time now.

The Dark came as soon as we managed to light a fire, The crackling sounds provided a soothing white noise and I finally got an idea as I saw in the glinting light how dirty my legs had become.

And not just my legs, everything about me was dusty and on some spots downright caked in dried or fresh mud.

So I stood up and on the other two confused looks told them what I was going to do.

“I'm going to wash myself in the river, stay here i don't want any of you seeing me without clothing”

Robin looked a bit confused at first but then nodded, motioning a thumbs up, he'd been weirdly quiet since the capture.

I would talk to him later to make sure he was alright but for now I had other things to deal with.

Rikaad just made a dismissive hand motion and instead focused on the fire so I left to go a good bit downstream, away from where they could hear or see me.

I went a good bit further than that to make sure that even if it got loud they wouldn't notice, which took about five minutes to walk.

I had stopped holding my breath while walking and I could feel Arthur start to move again as I took deep breaths to supply him with fresh air.

The movements were confused at first, then a curious hand prodded my insides before he went still again, not unconscious, more like a stiff weight that held itself and it seemed like he was terrified of moving.

I even heard him say.

“Oh fuck”

I finally allowed myself to put a hand on my abdomen and poked at him, receiving a surprised noise in response.

“Arthur? Are you okay?”

He shifted confusedly for a second before answering.

“What? You ate me, why would you ask that?”

He seemed still a bit groggy so I would do one thing after the other for now.

“I didn't really eat you, but can you tell me if you're okay?”

I was a bit worried over the fact that I had essentially kept him in a low air environment and hoped I didn't damage his brain or something.

“What do you mean by that? And uh… well i Feel fine? wait-”

He started shifting a lot and I had to bite back a pleased hum at the feeling of having my insides rubbed, I didn't want to scare him after all.

“What the FUCK! Donovan, what the hell is going on?!”

He suddenly was a lot more energetic, seemingly having figured out that he'd been in there for some time now and was still okay.

So best to finally explain this…chaos.

“First off you're fine! And you will stay fine! You're not in my stomach okay?”

“Where the hell am I then? You fucking ate me!”

Well there was the anger, but now I knew that beneath that anger was fear, so I would try my best to reassure him.

“You are in my pouch not my stomach, basically i have some of my organs doubled but not all of them work so you're fine and nothing will happen to you in there”

He seemed to freeze at my words, likely trying to comprehend what I just told him.

Then I felt an indignant kick against my insides.

“WHY THE FUCK DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THIS SOONER!”

Now he really was angry instead of afraid and I sighed.

“I literally couldn't! Not with that Monobrow guy listening in! He would have killed us both!

Besides You said it yourself that you couldn't act to save your life! I'm sorry that I had to do this but it's better than death isn't it?”

He seemed to calm down at my words, probably realizing that I was right.

“So wait, are we still in the tower or why are you suddenly talking to me? And how did you manage to keep me asleep during all of this???”

At least those two questions were easy to answer but I hoped he wouldn't get angry again at hearing that I had deprived him of air.

“We are not in the tower anymore, i got us as far away as possible when we got out, as for keeping you asleep well uh- I just held my breath so you'd get less air?”

He didn't kick or punch me, instead he just flopped backwards against the walls of my pouch.

“You know what, okay why not? Are at least Robin and Rikaad okay? Wait, do they know I'm in here?”

I decided to try and answer the questions in the order I heard them.

“The others are okay, they are at out camp a bit away and no the don't know where you are, at least Rikaad doesn't, and i'd appreciate it if you'd never tell them about this, i'm not keen on getting stabbed by Rikaad to be honest”

He shifted again a bit and I had to suppress another delighted hum.

“So if we are away from the tower can you let me out? No offense but i don't like this and i never want to repeat it”

Walking a bit into the stream after chucking my shoes onto a boulder to keep them dry while he talked I could understand that he didn't want to do this ever again, so as long as he promised to not tell anyone I'd let him out as soon as possible.

“Of course I'll let you out just give me a sec, also can you promise me to never tell Rikaad about this? I'll help you come up with a believable cover story if you want”

Coming up with something would probably be difficult as he admitted to being a bad actor, so something simple would have to do.

Feeling him move again to sit up I walked even deeper into the widest part of the river, but the water still didn't go over my entire legs so I just stood there in the calves deep water listening for his answer.

“Yeah sure, i even swear on God to not tell Rikaad unless you tell me to, now get me out of here”

“Alright… try to go limp… i'm going to get you out now”

I felt a squirm of confirmation as I pressed in with my hand, and tensed up as I forced my body to throw up the form in my pouch.

Feeling something travel the wrong way up your esophagus wasn't by any means pleasant but I was used to it by now from the years of hiding valuables in there.

It wasn't long until I felt the cursing form of Arthur reenter my mouth and I plucked him out with two fingers, dangling him over the river in the pale moonlight.

“Fucking hell! How long was I in there? And set me down already! I hate this!”

I couldn't really set him down right now as I stood in the middle of the river and he would get swept away by the cool water that flowed around my legs so I instead cupped him in my hands.

He was a lot less slimy than I thought he'd be but still needed a wash to get rid of the bit of slime that did cling to him.

“One second, unless you want me to dump you in the river, also how are you? Are you okay?”

I walked back towards the riverbank so I could set him down.

“I've seen better days to be honest, and i'm sorry for what my uncle did to you guys”

Setting him down slowly onto the rocky dirt covered shore I went to wring out the hem of my shirt that had gotten wet when I bent over to get Arthur out before what he said registered in my brain.

“That Was Your Uncle??? What? Wait a sec, if that guy is your uncle then-”

He interrupted me before I could say another word.

“Yes my dad was the King, but frankly i didn't really know him aside from when i had to stand at his side during some stupid events, and no i'm not sad that he's dead i never cared about being some stupid royalty, at least i wasn't inbred like some of my other relatives”

He seemed to shudder at the last bit and not entirely from the cold.

“I thought Winton had told you who i am, ah fuck, how about you don't tell anyone about my royalty status and i keep quiet about the pouch thing okay?”

This did seem like a good deal but one thing confused me.

“Deal! Though, Who the fuck is Winton? Is that the monobrow guy? Don't tell me That ugly fuck is your uncle”

He flopped over into the mud of the riverbank groaning.

“Yes he is, i like to pretend that he's not though, i hate him”

That was completely understandable, I had only been around that guy for about a day and I already despised him as much as physically possible, and Arthur had to live with that for who knew how long.

Though now we needed to come up with a reason as to why Arthur wasn't kept captive anymore.

“So, any idea for a cover story? You know Maringand better than me”

He flopped onto his back in the dirt sighing.

“I'll just tell them i escaped through the sewers, as disgusting as it is it's believable enough and they probably won't ask for details”

That sounded good enough, I knew I wouldn't ask how someone crawled through a sewer, or at least not expect them to answer it.

“So can we go back now? I want to actually see Robin and Rikaad again”

That would be nice, but suddenly coming back with Arthur might be a bit suspicious, there was no way he would have kept up with us, especially since he had way shorter legs than I did and I had done an Adrenaline fueled sprint away from Maringand.

“Not a good idea, you suddenly turning up this fast is going to raise questions so maybe not today, ehh Night i mean”

It would be even better if he backtracked a bit so when Rikaad would usher us back to get him we'd ‘meet’ him on the way.

“Maybe even backtrack a bit? Rikaad is going to go back to get you anyway so if you go back a bit we meet you there and it's more believable”

He slowly sat up, now having mud stuck to the back of his shirt and put a hand over his face.

“Yeah that is a plan, not one im looking forward to but im not going to admit that i was eaten and didn't even do anything to stop you, that's just awkward and kinda embarrassing”

At least he shared my view on that point, so I went to sit next to him in the mud.

I would wash that anyway so I wasn't concerned with getting it even dirtier.

“Well you better get moving then, you have to go downstream and a bit to the right”

I pointed to where he had to go and he slowly stood up and started walking, even if his legs seemed to be moving a bit weirdly, they probably fell asleep in the time he didn't use them.

I was right in my guess as Arthur actually did comment on it.

“Dude my legs are wonky, how long was I in there? no wait don't answer I don't wanna know that, see you and the others tomorrow?”

The last part went an octave higher and I could clearly see that he was worried but did not want to show it.

Instead he started to walk through the woods and I hoped that I hadn't just made a mistake, After all, the woods were still dangerous and now he was unarmed.

I REALLY hoped I hadn't made an irreversible error but he was already out of sight so I went back to striding into the river, planning to finally get all the dirt out of my shirt and pants.

The cool water felt Pleasant against my sore legs and while I just let the stream wash away the mud on my pants I took my shirt off and swirled it in the water a few times to get everything out.

Dragging the now heavier shirt out of the water i wrung it out a few times before realizing that if i put it on again i'd likely get a cold or something, So the shirt had to stay off until it was dried.

Ah Fuck.

That ment i had to go back to the camp shirtless and try to dry it against the comparatively small fire we had.

I hoped no one would take offense to the fact that my top half was naked, but knowing Robin he'd more likely ask about my scars than complain about me missing my shirt.

Standing on the riverbank I wrung out my pants as best as I could while wearing them and slipped my shoes back on as I started to walk back, trying all the while to wring out my shirt as best as I could so it would dry faster.

I returned to a happily flickering fire and saw Rikaad inspecting Robin's face, apparently checking for bruises.

I realized with a pang that I might be too big to see small injuries, at least Rikaad was here to assess them.

Upon hearing me come back two heads simultaneously looked at me but Rikaad went back to checking Robin over who grinned at me.

Something was wrong with his teeth but I couldn't figure out what, I was too far away and probably too big too.

I sat next to the fire and put my shirt as close as I dared, I didn't want it catching on fire after all, then gave a worried look over to Robin.

“Are you alright? You've been weirdly quiet since we left Maringand”

He motioned for me to get closer and I bent down to be more at eye level for him.

He showed off his teeth and I finally saw what was wrong, The tooth behind his left canine had a small piece missing making his canine appear far more pronounced, like a fang.

No wonder he's been so quiet that must have been painful.

“How did that happen? Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

He shook his head, making his messy ginger hair bounce around his skull.

“I'm fine, one of the Maringand Guards told me to shut up and hit my teeth, but that aside where did your shirt go??”

I was glad he seemed to be okay and gestured vaguely to the shirt lying next to the fire.

“I'm letting it dry before putting it back on, not keen on catching a cold out here”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Rikaad nodding.

“A good idea, though we should rest soon i will take first watch”

He did have a point in that, we really should sleep soon and i could put my shirt back on tomorrow as embarrassing as them seeing my scars was i wouldn't risk a sickness right now.

“Is that where your kidney is missing?”

I flinched a bit at the question, it seemed Robin had come closer as I stared into the Flames of the campfire and was looking at the pale line of scar tissue at my side.

“Yeah it is, i'm glad i punched that guy when i did or had have killed me for sure”

He seemed to stare at it a bit longer before his gaze became that glazed over look again for half a minute.

He snapped out of it and shook his head.

“You have any more scars? You don't have to tell me though!”

Well I did have a few more but most of them were from mundane stuff like falling off a tree or climbing into small spaces, though there was a long thin line across my back doing shoulder to shoulder that I received from a blade.

PREVIOUS / NEXT / OVERSIGHT

#sstc #lizards writing #vore story #giant/tiny #soft vore #extreme cuddling #g/t story #g/t vore #v0re #sfw vore #Barmea #Maringand #magic

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moraygrotto · 7 months

Text

Chapter 2 of Xiè Lián's story!

Many, many thanks to @askbloatedbellyblog for commissioning this fic!

This is a stuffing, bloating, measuring, and referenced vore story featuring Xiè Lián from TGϹF with some HuāLián. It's also a direct sequel to this fic, so please open this link to read it first !

Enjoy! 🍁🧡

~🍁~

Xie Lian’s meals thereafter were all rather large. By almost a full week later, he had not had another proper training session like his first. No tables were laid out entirely with food for him, but he made sure that every time he ate, his stomach was always left packed full. Often, his fullness came with Hua Cheng’s aid, for the demonic devotee seemed more eager than ever to serve his beloved prince.

For Xie Lian’s part, he found it odd that daily meals were now part of his training. In his life as a quasi-member of the newly re-established Heavenly Court, he spent much of his time training his spirit and muscles to address concerns in his territory, and then came home to share hearty meals with his husband.

He still worked out now, still paid due attention to his strength and stamina, but each meal had now become a challenge, a thrilling new avenue for struggle, strain, and personal growth. His human worshipper and their strange request occupied his mind; he became devoted to them as could be.

Hua Cheng provided more food than ever, often in opposition to Xie Lian’s pleas to let him cook, fastidiously making sure his god was well-fed.

“I am arranging another training feast for you,” he told him at one of such meals, lounging on his side before the low table. “How would Your Highness feel about tomorrow?”

“I’d be happy to,” Xie Lian said, mouth full of a bite of chicken. “I think I’m seeing growth, but it’s hard to tell.” After swallowing, he laid a hand on his belly, and was greeted only by the six firm rises of his bulky abs. Being an active martial artist and so well in shape, he could gorge himself all he wanted at regular meals, and it would still be difficult to tell that his stomach was expanding. However, this ever-so-regular dinner had just begun.

Hua Cheng blew on a spoonful of soup. “How would you care to take a measurement tonight, and use that as a baseline?”

A measurement? He must mean of the girth his belly reached after eating. “But this isn’t an intense feast,” Xie Lian blurted out. “I’m not sure it would accurately reflect my true capacity.”

“That’s certainly true,” said Hua Cheng, after gulping down his bite of soup. “I’d promise, though, to keep the measure between you and me. The world doesn’t need to know such details about Your Highness, and if they do, it should be a number reflecting your belly’s size at its most godly.”

Hua Cheng, in all his Ghost King’s self-assuredness, was letting himself blush. Xie Lian could not help but find him cute.

“Alright,” he replied, “we can take one little measurement. Let’s do it again after tomorrow’s training, though. That reading will be a bit better, yes?”

“Of course!” Hua Cheng chirped, and drained his bowl before standing up.

“I’ll still eat well tonight, though!” Xie Lian assured him, digging into his food as Hua Cheng went to the shelves across the room.

With lightning precision, Hua Cheng selected a drawer. After sliding it open, his gentlemanly fingers extracted a long, soft tape measure, white with its units printed on in red. He then returned to sit by the table, unfurling and curling it, looping it idly around his fingers as he gazed calmly at Xie Lian.

“Bored?” Xie Lian said, lifting a mouthful of rice to his lips.

Hua Cheng shook his head rapidly. “I could never be bored watching Gege eat,” he replied.

It took a while, at Xie Lian’s deliberate pace, to finish his food. As usual, he felt pleasantly stuffed, the pressure of the large meal inside him like the burn of well-worked muscles after a good session of exercise. He pressed a comfortable, gut-rumbling burp into one fist, and smiled up at Hua Cheng. “San Lang,” he said at last, “I’m ready.”

“Gege’s words are like music to this devotee’s ears,” Hua Cheng said. He waved his hand, and in a flurry of demonic magic, the dishes stacked themselves at the corner of the table.

Xie Lian swigged down the last dregs of tea from his cup, feeling the liquid sink into the already bloated space within him, and placed it atop the table. “Shall I stand up?” he asked.

“However you prefer,” Hua Cheng replied, “though standing up would grant this humble San Lang more of His Highness to touch and adore…”

Stretching his work-weary thighs, then, Xie Lian rose. “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he said. “What a needy boy I have for my partner.” He then stretched his arms up, shoulders cracking pleasantly, full belly jutting out for Hua Cheng to admire as the latter stood and walked over to Xie Lian’s side.

“But of course I’ll oblige him,” Xie Lian said softly, scritching a hand through Hua Cheng’s fine hair. “After all, I must ever strive for magnanimity.”

“Your Highness, so noble,” Hua Cheng simpered, voice muffled as he nuzzled into Xie Lian’s shoulder. “So handsome, too, and with a stomach so big… It was hardly this big before dinner, Your Highness. You must have eaten sooo much…”

“You wanted me to eat!” Xie Lian said, raising his arms as Hua Cheng touched and caressed all around his middle. He was about to chide him further to quit teasing and take out his tape measure already, but fell silent at the touch of something cool and smooth at his silk-clad abdomen.

“Thank you,” he whispered, stroking Hua Cheng’s back. “But, I think you might need to lift up your head and look to see where the widest part of my belly is to measure, San Lang.”

Hua Cheng, Xie Lian’s very own Ghost King, gave a little groan, then pulled his head away reluctantly. “I’ll be good for Gege,” he said.

As Xie Lian stood with his arms raised patiently, Hua Cheng knelt, tall figure sinking to the level of Xie Lian’s abdomen. With careful hands, he snaked the tape measure around his post-meal gut. He began making small adjustments to its height and positioning, and he looked so studious, Xie Lian could not hold in a laugh, making his belly jump and disrupting Hua Cheng’s work. As was often the case, Hua Cheng’s entire attention was trained on Xie Lian.

Xie Lian was a god of martial arts. He could stay still. It was, nevertheless, difficult, with Hua Cheng so restless. “San Lang,” he whispered, “your carefulness is appreciated, but your fingers are so cold. They tickle!”

“Ah!” Hua Cheng said, and paused. “Please forgive this San Lang!”

It took Xie Lian a moment to realize that Hua Cheng had made his fingers warmer. “That’s better,” he said through a chuckle of mirth, “but I really meant hurry up!”

Hua Cheng laughed as well. “As you wish,” he said. His hands made one smooth, full circle around Xie Lian’s abdomen, then came together at the spot where the tape measure met its other end. “Impressive,” he cooed.

“What is it?” Xie Lian asked.

“A perfect forty cun,” he replied in a glowing voice. “Your Highness expanded so much.”

“Only forty,” Xie Lian said pensively.

Worry flashed in Hua Cheng’s eye. “Does Gege not feel satisfied with that number?”

“No,” Xie Lian said, placing both hands on his belly and examining himself ruefully. “It is a person I’m training to eat, after all. I want my physical form to be as capable as it can be for the task, and unfortunately, where I’m at won’t cut it.”

Hua Cheng frowned.

Xie Lian knew Hua Cheng. He was probably thinking of ways to obliterate Xie Lian’s discontent, ideas cartwheeling over each other through his mind as to how he could stretch Xie Lian’s stomach for him, wielding the full might of his supernatural power if necessary.

Smiling down at him, Xie Lian shook his head. “This is something I need to improve for myself, San Lang. I’m so grateful for the help you’ve given me so far, and I hope you’ll continue to be with me every step of the way.” As the tape measure fell away from Xie Lian’s middle and through Hua Cheng’s fingers, Xie Lian leaned down over his own paunch, and gave Hua Cheng a kiss on the forehead. “Like measuring my belly,” he said softly. “You’re doing such a good job. But this progress can only come incrementally. Do not worry for me. I am a martial artist; I am used to hard work.”

Looking up at Xie Lian, Hua Cheng took one of his hands, and pressed a reverent kiss to its back. “As Your Highness wishes,” he said after breaking away. “You have all my devotion. If there is anything you need, at any time during this process, do not hesitate to ask me. I will do all I can for you.”

Xie Lian chuckled, and petted his hair. “Half the time, you know what I need even before I do, and are there in the blink of an eye!”

Hua Cheng beamed.

“So, perhaps,” Xie Lian said in a soft, babying tone of voice, “San Lang would like to come cuddle with Gege before bed? I have a big day tomorrow, after all.”

“Absolutely,” Hua Cheng said, voice dripping with solemnity.

“Besides,” he added, continuing to play with his soft hair, “you will need to familiarize yourself with a forty-cun belly on me now, if you hope to at all!”

Immediately, Hua Cheng pressed his head against Xie Lian’s side, brazenly squishing his hands into his postprandial bloat. “That’s right,” he said dreamily. “Gege is mighty; Gege will improve, and improve, and improve…”

“And Gege will get bigger, and bigger, and bigger,” Xie Lian finished for him. “But right now, he would like to lie down. Okay, San Lang?”

“Okay~”

As night fell, the pair turned in together, cuddled up in bed, sharing warmth amidst the deepening autumn chill. Hua Cheng pressed himself close to Xie Lian, as if he, too, wished he could become part of him, no doubt seeking contact with every curve of Xie Lian’s body, memorizing its shape, fighting fruitlessly against time while it digested back down to its usual lithe muscularity.

Soon, Xie Lian sank into a deep, comfortable sleep, grateful for his Hua Cheng and his godly metabolism.

The next morning, Xie Lian was awoken by the sound of his own stomach, whining with piteous want. He cracked his eyes open, and looked around the room. Hua Cheng was nowhere to be found. Slowly, he sat up, and stretched, then ran a hand down his tummy. All of the previous night’s bloating was gone, leaving behind only his firm abdominal muscles—he was lithe as ever again, thanks to his hardworking digestive system. He smiled. A day of stretching himself to new limits was ahead of him.

“San Lang!” he called. “Where have you run off to?”

“Your Highness,” came the voice of Hua Cheng from outside their little room. The quality of his voice sounded different, but Xie Lian could not place how.

Nevertheless, the mere reminder of Hua Cheng’s presence made him brighten up. “Good morning, my love!” he called back. “Give me a moment to get ready, and then I will come find you!”

In spite of how he planned to spend the first half of his day, Xie Lian performed his morning stretches carefully. He figured that if he were really going to stretch himself to the limit, it followed that his body needed to be stretchy. What was more, a stuffed enough tummy might have him stuck in place for a while, and if any of his muscles stiffened or even cramped while he was sitting, feeding, and digesting, he would sorely regret not having attended to them with the usual care.

Centuries prior, he would have cringed at the thought of eating so much he could not move. Now, knowing that he and his godly status were safe under Hua Cheng’s care, he allowed himself to indulge in the idea, the sheer vulnerability of it. At his previous session, in the little cabin on the beach, he had felt so good being full, especially as his belly began to digest, and Hua Cheng had rubbed him attentively. He was a new and different man from his past self. This Xie Lian could welcome moments of softness with open arms.

Smiling, he then began to change into his day clothes.

Frowning down at the belt around his waist, he thought about how tight it would become in the span of one morning. If he could fit as much inside his tummy as he hoped to, then the fabric would no doubt need to open; he would be in pain otherwise.

He tied his belt somewhat low on his body. The amount of cloth that made it up was simply not long enough to accommodate his desired waist size. He would have to tie it all the way beneath his belly, if he were to expand to a size fit for swallowing people. Such an arrangement did not fit his aesthetic sense, but he supposed, tying it now around his hungering middle, that he would have to settle for it. Cutting a different physical form meant making adjustments, and Xie Lian was nothing if not well-acquainted with change.

After tying his hair up into his graceful half-bun, he slid open the bedroom door. What greeted his eyes froze him in his tracks.

Instead of the cozy study which had before lay on this side of the wall, the space was wide open, with high, palatial ceilings, and distant, red-painted walls. Silver decorations hung all around, and stood atop a veritable sea of sturdy, round tables. At the far end of this space which could only be called a banquet hall, there stood a stage, where a clutch of dancers in flowing robes swayed to quiet music. To Xie Lian’s side, near the wall, sat a massive, jewel-encrusted chair, heading the biggest table of them all.

Before Xie Lian had the chance to call out to him, Hua Cheng was by his side. “Your Highness,” he said softly, snaking a hand around Xie Lian’s waist, “how do you feel?”

Xie Lian gazed at the huge nearby table, and saw several plates of food steaming atop it. Footsteps and chattering lost to the room’s spacious echo, a few servants bustled about, laying the neighboring tables with a few dishes each.

“Oh, San Lang,” Xie Lian said.

“Is Gege pleased?”

He took another moment to take in his surroundings, and nodded. “I’m reminded of you everywhere I look.”

Hua Cheng smiled, and, with the slightest pressure at his waist, guided him to the immense, sparkling throne. “Then,” he said, “you should see a lot of yourself in here, too. I take my inspiration from only one source, you see.”

Xie Lian could not hold back a chuckle. It was sweet that Hua Cheng could think of him as so grand, even when he was still bleary-eyed from bed, and dressed in his old white clothes. Guided by Hua Cheng, he let himself take a seat in the chair.

He sighed, somewhat entranced by the dancers as he relaxed into his seat. The smell of incense hung faintly in the air, and silver tableware, furniture, and decorations gleamed every which way he looked.

Suddenly, he was startled by the touch of something on his stomach. Hua Cheng’s long fingers were walking all around the still-flat area, pressing a little, getting a feel for the chiseled muscles below.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian whispered, “that tickles…”

Hua Cheng muttered a droll apology, and smoothed his hand to caress gentle circles with his palm. “Your Highness,” he said, “are you ready for a deliciously wholesome breakfast?”

“I believe I am,” Xie Lian replied sweetly, squeezing his hand in his. “The next time you touch here, it will be much, much more full.”

“I have no doubt,” Hua Cheng said, then snapped his fingers.

At once, the bustling servants rushed to Xie Lian’s table, filling his plate with food, pouring a silken stream of what appeared to be oolong tea into his cup.

“Thank you,” he said, making those demons closest to him giggle and smile. In their delight, they actually splashed some tea over the edge of his cup.

They froze, eyes going wide.

A noise came from Hua Cheng, his very spiritual presence at Xie Lian’s side turning stormy, but Xie Lian held up his hand.

“It’s alright,” he said, picking up the teacup, and using a corner of his sleeve to soak up the liquid clinging to its base. He took a sip, and smiled. “Mmm,” he said, “it’s perfectly brewed. Everybody makes mistakes sometimes, and it would be such a pity for Lord Hua to punish a fellow in his employ who is so good at making tea, right?”

Nodding diffidently, the demon scurried off.

Hua Cheng took Xie Lian’s wrist in his hand, and in a moment, the sleeve was completely clean and dry. “You know,” Hua Cheng said, “the demon who poured the tea might not be the same one who brewed it.”

“They’re all trying so hard,” Xie Lian replied, patting his hand lovingly. “All for you and me. It pays off to treat one’s servants nicely, my dear.”

“I suppose,” Hua Cheng sighed. “Then one of them might ask their lord to consensually eat them.”

Xie Lian laughed. “Exactly.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Xie Lian spotted a squat demon carrying a large bowl over to him from a neighboring table. Quietly, he breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed like, similarly to how Feng Xin and Mu Qing had fed him last time, Hua Cheng and his servants would help him decide what to eat. There was so much before him and all around that he would have trouble choosing on his own.

Hua Cheng seemed to notice, and ran a hand through Xie Lian’s hair. “All you need to do is relax,” he said, and Xie Lian could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yes, Lord Hua,” Xie Lian teased, and leaned back into the chair.

As the cool, flaxen pillows upon its silver back sunk perfectly to the contours of his body, he saw that the bowl was filled with rice porridge, a breakfast food he had eaten much of throughout his life. However, this bowl was swimming with meat, beans, vegetables, and spices, altogether nothing he would have ever dreamed of while living in poverty. Secretly, he gave thanks for how committed Hua Cheng was to treating him like a prince. Some pleasures simply could not be matched.

Hua Cheng eyed Xie Lian’s comfortable posture up and down, raised one eyebrow, then sank onto the arm of the throne. He balanced there perfectly, the image of servile grace as he spread napkins over Xie Lian’s lap and chest, and a less godly corner of Xie Lian’s mind fixated briefly on the evident strength of Hua Cheng’s core muscles beneath his ruby robes.

In his distraction, he failed to notice a spoonful of porridge in Hua Cheng’s hands, until it was right before his face.

“Your Royal Highness,” Hua Cheng purred, “let this servant feed you.”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian chided, “you’re already my husband. You don’t have to be my servant, too.” He looked up to Hua Cheng, who was pouting, and sighed. “I will let my beloved feed me,” he said, and opened his mouth. “Aaah~”

Miraculously, despite how the bowl steamed before him, the porridge was the perfect temperature. It warmed his mouth as he lapped it off the spoon, and he could feel its heat sinking all the way down his gullet and into his belly, never once scalding him.

“Mmm!” He placed a hand on his tummy, and could already feel how warm it was inside. “This is perfect!”

“I’m so glad,” Hua Cheng said, and fed him another spoonful.

Quickly for the serene vigor of the morning, Xie Lian sunk into a comfortable, trancelike state, breaking his eyes from the undulating dancers on the distant stage only occasionally to reach for his teacup or shoot a grateful smile up at Hua Cheng. As the soothing weight of rice began to settle in is stomach, he ruminated that this porridge alone would be an excellent preparation for a big workout—the carbs would fuel his initial stamina, the vegetable pieces would replenish his vitamins and ensure quick metabolism, and the protein would keep him going until the time came to eat a much heartier meal that would truly nourish his burning muscles. As the sound of porcelain on porcelain signalled the end of the dish, however, he reminded himself that today was a day for a very different type of training.

He thumped his chest with one fist, let out a deep burp into the other, and felt his stomach shifting around, making ready for much, much more.

Hua Cheng gave an adoring little whimper, and stroked Xie Lian’s arm. “How does Your Highness’s belly feel?” he asked.

Xie Lian took a moment to appraise him. His legs were crossed; he looked so submissive in spite of his huge stature. “Perhaps you would make a good servant,” he blurted out.

Hua Cheng blinked.

“And my belly feels wonderful,” he replied, giving it a little squeeze. His stomach gurgled in response, turning over the porridge inside. “I am quite ready to continue this training session.”

“As Your Highness wishes,” Hua Cheng said at once, and snapped the dish nearest to him up into his hands, a little plate of pan-fried bok choy. “Here,” he said, and in a flash of chopsticks, offered him a bite. “Please eat, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, dear,” he said, and opened his mouth to accept it.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” he replied warmly.

Hua Cheng called him Your Highness often, but this seemed gratuitous. It was clear to Xie Lian that he loved feeding him, loved lounging by his side and doing all within his power to help his belly grow. As Xie Lian chewed, he smiled. Hua Cheng was so easy to indulge, it made his heart sing.

In what seemed like no time at all, the vegetables had vanished into him, and his belly barely felt any tighter, much less visibly round at his waist.

“San Lang,” he whispered, “have you got anything… a little heavier? …Fluffier, perhaps?”

Giving a little purr, Hua Cheng squished his belly with his fingertips. “Anything your heart desires, I can have ready for you,” he said softly. “Would you like something… with a little more starch?” He gave a loving prod. “Something that’ll fill you all the way up? Or something a little richer? Oilier?” His fingers wriggled under Xie Lian’s belt, utterly shameless in front of the multitude of serving demons still scuttling around and sneaking glances at the couple. “Something,” he said, voice low and smooth in his ear, “that will slip and slide inside Gege’s tummy, sending effervescent little bubbles of gas up to his lips, going around, telling all the other foods inside him to join together, and make him big and round?”

Xie Lian giggled. Hua Cheng’s fingers on his stomach were making the food inside shift and glorp, and every word coming out of his mouth sounded appealing, silly though they all were. He pressed one impeccably polite little burp into his finger, then smiled. “I’ll let you decide, San Lang.” An idea struck him, and he closed his eyes, shutting out the vision of the glittering room and endless sea of food. “Here,” he said, “I’ll let you surprise me.”

A pleased hum came from Hua Cheng’s direction. “As you wish,” he said. “But only… if Gege promises not to fall back asleep.”

“Oh, believe me, I couldn’t!” Xie Lian replied. “I’m fully in training mode right now, as comfortable as this training may be.” He paused. “I’ll eat everything you give me, San Lang; you have my word.” Xie Lian did not give promises lightly, but he trusted Hua Cheng. He opened his mouth, and waited.

A delicious smell hit him before the first bite of food landed on his tongue. Rich and savory, something smooth and soft entered his mouth, opening easily between his teeth to release tender chunks of meat, egg, boiled vegetables, and cellophane noodles. It was a boiled crystal dumpling, salty, and, as Hua Cheng had promised, oily.

“Mmm!” he said as he chewed and swallowed. “Excellent choice, San Lang!”

“I am so happy to hear Gege say that,” Hua Cheng replied. “There are many more here, all for my Gege.”

“Yay!”

Over the gentle music, he could still hear himself chew and swallow, as Hua Cheng fed him dumpling after dumpling, what could no doubt be multiple steamers full of them. He was grateful for the relative quiet; with his eyes closed, he could immerse himself fully in eating, in feeling his insides grow gradually more full.

After what seemed to Xie Lian an unnaturally long time spent eating dumplings, he stopped, and held up a finger. “San Lang,” he said, eyes still closed, “could you please give my back a pat?” He leaned forward for him, and placed a hand on his mouth. His belly felt overly full, stuffed with oily dumpling skin and noodles.

Somehow, Hua Cheng knew the perfect amount of force to dislodge a hefty belch from Xie Lian. At the strike to Xie Lian’s back, it pushed its way up his throat, inhumanly loud, seizing his whole body with its greasy, thick vibrations.

His stomach, liberated from the pressure of the gas, felt so good. He should be embarrassed of the sound; there were others around, after all, but all he could feel was relief. “Haah,” he sighed, placing one hand on his belly. “Excuse me.”

“I would never excuse Your Highness, because Your Highness can do no wrong,” Hua Cheng replied in a singsong voice.

As he groped his belly, Xie Lian realized that he still felt constricted, the room freed up by burping notwithstanding. “San Lang,” he said, “I’m going to open my eyes, and try to adjust my clothes.”

The moment he opened his eyes, however, he was distracted by what he saw. The table looked much different than it had before he had begun to feed on the dumplings; several of the dishes were empty or missing, and a few he recognized from the other tables had been shoved in their places. Only when he saw a dish that he knew had previously contained a whole roast quail did the realization dawn on him.

“San Lang,” he said to Hua Cheng, “did you use your powers to transform the other dishes into these dumplings, just because I said I liked them?”

Hua Cheng’s face split into a mischievous grin, tensing up like a child who had been caught stealing candy, until his whole bearing buckled, and he leaned in to press Xie Lian’s head with a kiss. “Gege has found this San Lang out,” he whispered. “This San Lang will accept any punishment that—”

“No, no, no,” said Xie Lian, gently swatting his arm. “San Lang was just being considerate.” He smiled. “This Gege is beginning to fill up, though. If you don’t mind, I’ll take a moment to adjust my belt.”

“Of course, Gege.”

Even with Hua Cheng by his side, Xie Lian still felt awkward untying his belt in front of strangers. Luckily, only Hua Cheng was looking right at him; only he paid close attention as his fingers worked the cloth. At the moment his belly sprang free of the restricting material, however, thoughts of all else blinked out of Xie Lian’s mind.

Moments prior, he had tried to shift his belt lower, until he realized he had shifted it as far as it could comfortably go, and still felt tight. His stomach was pushing out on his robe; more of his chest had begun to show in a smooth, flesh-colored triangle beneath the white, and almost by instinct, his fingers fiddled with the belt now hugging his hips, keeping the robe that contained his belly in place, until it was undone, and the round dome of his gut practically popped out before him.

“Aaaah…” The sigh was flowing from Xie Lian’s lungs involuntarily; he felt so much better. His throat shifted, and the noise deepened into a long, delicious burp, ten thousand times as rude as his previous one, but right now, he could not bring himself to care.

As he panted softly for air, he looked down at his exposed belly. It was so round already, bigger than it had been last night, fully hiding the waistband of his pants, crowned with the shadow of his navel.

“Please pardon me,” he said softly to Hua Cheng. “I will admit, though, that this feels much better.”

“Your Highness,” said Hua Cheng, voice no more than a breath.

“Hm? What is it?” He gave his belly a pat, loving the way the food-filled flesh bounced under his touch, and the feeling of digestion already taking place inside him. He smiled at Hua Cheng. “Is there something you want, my love?”

“Only what Your Highness has to offer,” Hua Cheng said solemnly.

He chuckled. “Well,” he said, “I can offer you a touch, before we move on to more food.” He took Hua Cheng’s hand. “I hope you understand that I am far from finished.”

“Yes, this servant understands,” said Hua Cheng, and, with Xie Lian’s hand as his guide, gently touched his belly.

His hand was cool, but immediately warmed up again, as if to correct himself. Xie Lian let go, and Hua Cheng began to gently caress, gaining a feel for its full expanse.

“If you like,” said Xie Lian, “you may keep rubbing while I eat some by myself.” He gave his arm a reassuring pat. “That way,” he said, “you can quite literally feel my belly fill up. How does that sound?”

“...Is Your Highness sure—”

“Oh, San Lang!” Xie Lian burst out, “of course I’m sure! You’re welcome to all of me, my dear.”

Hua Cheng blushed.

“Besides,” Xie Lian continued, “your hand feels sooo wonderful on my tummy. If you don’t mind, though, I'm going to keep training myself. That roast duck looks just too yummy!”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Hua Cheng replied.

For the first time, then, Xie Lian picked up his own chopsticks, and ate.

The food was fantastic, and even those dishes that had been out the longest were still hot, thanks no doubt to Hua Cheng’s mystical care. He ate as princes ate, with no thought of scarcity, allowing himself to banish every trace of hunger from his body. Best of all, Hua Cheng did not stop rubbing him for a single second as he fed, gentle hand seeming to always find the place on his belly most in need of care. With all tension in his digestive organs prematurely eased by Hua Cheng, each bite Xie Lian swallowed settled magnificently down, and little burbling sounds chimed from within his stomach now and then, letting the world know that digestion was at work.

Belly free to the open air and Hua Cheng’s sublime caress, Xie Lian felt awash in comfort as he ate. Thus, the feeling of overfullness crept stealthily up on him, and before he himself realized he was doing it, he had set his chopsticks down, and was thumping his chest, seeking any release of pressure from his insides.

He let out a short, sickly burp, his stomach giving an accompanying whine, and Hua Cheng paused, looking at him with concern. “Gege,” he said, using his free hand to give him a few pats on the back. “What’s wrong?”

Xie Lian gave a shallow sigh, and looked up at him. “This belly is getting a little bit full, that’s all.”

“Oh, no,” said Hua Cheng. “But Gege has so much more food left to eat.”

The music hand stopped; the dancers were likely taking a break. Both of them looked out at the table. Though all of the food had now been consolidated onto the one table before them, several hearty dishes still remained.

“That is my concern, too,” said Xie Lian. “I want to train to my fullest capability, and I would prefer no food to go to waste.” He sighed once more, and gave his tummy a tender pat. “Say, San Lang,” he said, “would it be too much trouble for you to feed me the rest of the food yourself? That way, I can think only about chewing, swallowing, and digesting it.” He shot a sheepish look up at Hua Cheng’s adoring face. “I do promise that sometime soon, I’ll be able to consume a whole feast’s worth of food in one go. Unfortunately, though, I think I still have some training left to do before I reach that point.”

“My love,” Hua Cheng said, using his thumb to wipe a fleck of food off his cheek, “I do not mind at all. Here, why don’t you lay back for me?”

Xie Lian obeyed, letting his body go slack into the cushions of the chair, and his belly at once thanked him for the pressure relieved when he relaxed his abdominal muscles. Just like before, he closed his eyes, and let his mouth fall open wide, willing, a ready receptacle for food that could only bloat him bigger, stuff him tighter.

Feeding him, Hua Cheng was achingly caring. Once or twice, he even moved his jaw, helping him chew around a chunk of meat or glob of rice that would be unwise to swallow without properly chewing first. He rubbed his belly, too, soothing all his tenderest spots.

The food was good, but Xie Lian quickly lost his palate. Hua Cheng’s tender touch atop his belly soon devolved, to Xie Lian’s senses, to just another source of pressure on his overtaxed guts. He belched whenever he could, no longer bothering to excuse himself, and willed his digestive tract to take from his stomach, shift the food’s weight lower, in spite of how dearly he did want to stretch his stomach.

Eventually, he clamped his mouth shut. The mass of food within him was enough to make him nauseous; every burp came up wet; the very skin of his belly felt stretched taut. “San Lang,” he slurred from between ajar lips, “I think… that’s enough…”

“Please, Gege,” Hua Cheng said, voice coming soft through the still air. “Just eat a little bit more.”

Xie Lian licked a crumb off the corner of his mouth, then let it sit there on his tongue. “Heh… San Lang, do you want me to burst?”

“Gege,” Hua Cheng urged, “there are only a few bites left.” Then, quieter, “I know in my heart that you can do it. You are the mightiest man I have ever known.”

At this, Xie Lian could only let out a thin, quavering breath.

“Alright,” he said. “for you, San Lang… I’ll eat…”

“Thank you,” Hua Cheng said. “Dear, wonderful Xie Lian… Open your mouth, and bite down, my beloved.”

Xie Lian’s jaw opened as far as it could. He fought back the urge to vomit, not by retching, but merely by allowing the reflux of overeaten food to flow from him. The urge passed, and something soft touched his lips.

A bun, he realized. Silly San Lang. He was so bloated as he was, there was no room in his belly for carbs.

He bit down anyway.

Something sweet, delightfully refreshing, hit his tongue. Read bean, he realized, and he tore a bite off and slowly chewed. In spite of his fullness, it was delicious.

He swallowed.

“Good,” Hua Cheng said. “Ready for another bite?”

“Mm-hm…”

Xie Lian took another bite, chewed and swallowed, then took another, ate, ate, until there was nothing left but the tips of Hua Cheng’s long fingers.

“That was pretty good,” he confessed.

“I’m blessed to hear you say that.”

Xie Lian tried to shift in his seat, lean toward Hua Cheng, but pain lanced through his belly. “I think,” he said, “I need to lie very still for a while.” He cracked one eye open to look at Hua Cheng. “Will San Lang keep me safe while I rest?”

“It would be my sacred duty,” Hua Cheng replied, and kissed the back of Xie Lian’s hand.

Pinned to his chair by his own mass, Xie Lian relaxed as best he could. It felt good to be so still; this was a much needed rest after he had crammed himself to the brim with food.

Through the quiet, he could hear footsteps once more bustling around his table, and the sound of porcelain softly clinking, as well as the burbling of his own belly. The Ghost City demons who served Hua Cheng were usually much more boisterous than this; they must have special orders from their lord to maintain Xie Lian’s peace and quiet. Silently, he thanked Hua Cheng, and slipped into a food-dazed torpor.

He was not sure how much time had passed when he felt the touch of something cool atop his middle. With a start, he realized he had never checked to see how big he had grown by the end of the feast, and he snapped his eyes open.

The vast, dish-filled table was nowhere to be seen, and in its place knelt Hua Cheng, eye twinkling up at Xie Lian, his tape measure in his hands.

“Gege!” he said brightly. “You are awake! I hope you do not mind my taking the liberty to measure your growth now. I wanted to check before you’ve had too much time to digest, while your tummy is still at its peak.”

“Not at all!” Xie Lian replied, and the broader tones of his voice were still cut off by the pressure on his lungs. “To be honest,” he said, “I had forgotten about it myself. Please, San Lang, measure away.”

As Hua Cheng snaked the tape measure around Xie Lian’s back, Xie Lian finally took a moment to admire the size of his own belly.

Hua Cheng had stuffed him well. He looked absolutely enormous; occasionally Hua Cheng’s head dipped entirely beneath the mass of it all. He had never been this engorged before in his life, and he felt it, too. Barely mobile atop his shining chair, unable to even think of swallowing another bite, he felt like a stuffed pig on a silver platter.

But nobody would take a bite out of Xie Lian, of that both he and Hua Cheng would make sure. In fact, quite the contrary would take place soon—Xie Lian almost felt as if he had eaten an entire human figure.

Hua Cheng’s fingers shifted and slid, inching all around Xie Lian’s middle as he adjusted the tape measure. Surely, this had to be enough. He could train in perpetuity, but at some point he must be able to stretch enough to fit his dear little worshipper.

The white tape ran over the tan skin of his bloated abdomen like a bridge of divine light, pleasantly cool to the touch, bearing the weight of his fate.

Finally, Hua Cheng looked up at him, smiling gently. “Your Highness’s belly is seventy-three cun in circumference,” he said.

Xie Lian let out a breath. “Whew! Seventy-three!” A moment later, he glanced down at Hua Cheng, and raised an eyebrow. “Do you think, San Lang… that seventy-three cun is big enough for my purposes?”

Hua Cheng paused. “In truth, Your Highness,” he said softly, “that might be the absolute minimum needed. You could… perhaps digest a little old man at this size.”

Xie Lian thought back to his worshipper. They were not tall, but nonetheless burly from working the fields. “...Ah.”

Hua Cheng shook his head, and ran a soothing hand over Xie Lian’s belly, below the line of the tape measure. “You’ve done so well this morning, though, my love. All this means is that you have a little training left to do. Nobody else could improve this fast. Nobody.”

“You’re right,” Xie Lian replied softly. “There’s nothing wrong with putting in more work to improve. Of course not.” He gave a little hiccup, belly hitching. “For now, however… I unfortunately must rest some more.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” replied Hua Cheng. “I will be here for you. If you’d like assistance with anything at all, I am at your command. You need only call.”

“Thank you, San Lang.” He gave his head a pat, and his fingers skidded gracelessly away, falling down upon the expanse of his giant gut.

A few hours later, Xie Lian felt well enough to rise, and, belly still bloated as ever, he trundled back to his bedroom, where bright sunlight now streamed through the curtains. Unsteady from the weight of his massive meal, he fell upon his bed, and was immediately grateful for the softness of the blankets, the pillow cradling his head. Although he had tasks to do that day, he knew how important rest was as a part of training. He fell willingly into the temptation of a midday nap, letting the heaviness of his gut keep him securely in place, and the lingering trails of food-coma drowsiness wash over him.

Having devoted his life to caring for all creatures, and spent much of it eating sparingly and sharing his meager findings with others, Xie Lian was not very familiar with the feeling of being a predator, of glutting oneself with the fruits of one’s conquest, then basking in utter satisfaction, secure in the place as master of one’s meals, with the whole world as platter.

The last thing he felt before sinking into sleep was a tingling excitement to swallow his willing prey.

By late afternoon, he was possibly energized again, and, though still bloated, felt euphoric inside. All thoughts of hedonistic indulgence were gone from his mind; he had duties to complete, which he could not ignore. Rising to his feet, he managed to fit his robe around his middle, and tie it with his belt. More of his chest than he was entirely comfortable exposing in full dress peeked through, as well as much of his belly; there was no denying to an outside eye just how much he had eaten that day.

Nevertheless, he was a god, and a god must serve his followers.

As usual after waking up, he performed a few stretches, trying valiantly to keep his clothes modest, but ended up needing to tie them down again after his belly sprang out from them in its entirety, bouncing out free and round.

Finally ready, then, he set out the door, and through the massive hall which Hua Cheng had constructed.

That afternoon, Xie Lian planned to check up on a few of his shrines, answer prayers, and, if he felt at all more mobile by evening, spend some time training his body in the more conventional sense. His plans were interrupted, however, by an all-too-familiar sound outside the vast hall’s main doors.

“I told you, he’ll skin us alive, and bejewel our hides to use as doormats! It would be insane to just—”

“What’s insane is standing here until the sun blinks out of the fucking sky. I say we—”

“Of course General Nan Yang wants to slam through the first unguarded doors he sees, regardless of—”

“Say that one more FUCKING TIME, Mu Qing!”

Xie Lian had wanted to be quiet, wanted merely to peep out at the commotion, but as he cracked open the doors, their hinges gave a brash creak.

Silence fell on both sides. Both Feng Xin and Mu Qing faced the door, eyes wide as saucers, but when Xie Lian’s face came into view, both of them relaxed in comical unison.

“Thank fuck,” Feng Xin said under his breath.

Stepping out into the afternoon daylight, Xie Lian clucked his tongue. “I could hear you from indoors,” he said. “The two of you were not discussing anyone I know, correct?”

Feng Xin and Mu Qing looked at each other.

Xie Lian shook his head. “You two must not have been standing out here for long, afraid to come in for fear of Hua Cheng. Certainly not, because neither of you has reason to fear him; my San Lang would never—” He stopped himself. However he thought to finish that sentence, he could only concede that Hua Cheng would. He shook his head again. “It’s no matter,” he said. “As always, it is lovely to see you two.”

He opened the door wider, and gestured inside. “Please, come in; don’t worry, it’s entirely safe here. Have either of you eaten yet? There is no doubt tea somewhere, if you’re thirsty, and I’d be happy to prepare some myself, but as for food, I’m afraid I—HIC!” Interrupting himself with a hefty hiccup, he laid a hand on his tummy, and looked sheepishly over his shoulder at the two former deputies now following him in. “I’m not entirely sure I can cook right now,” he said apologetically. “I would need to track down San Lang.”

“I… wouldn’t take you up on either of those options if I was about to die of starvation,” Mu Qing said flatly.

“Sorry,” Feng Xin muttered.

“No worries,” Xie Lian replied, affectedly pleasant. “Here, take a seat—” Reaching around his own inhumanly stuffed middle, he drew two chairs out from a central, yet unused table, before flopping down into a chair of his own. “Pardon my sluggishness,” he said, giving his tummy an apologetic pat. “I trained again today.”

“I can tell,” replied Feng Xin. His eyes were roving freely over Xie Lian’s body, as if he were unable to tear them away.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Mu Qing said gruffly. “Um, Your Royal Highness, we…” He trailed off, then hissed at Feng Xin, “You explain it.”

Feng Xin startled, then assumed a cordial expression toward Xie Lian, before clamping his mouth shut once more, and taking a moment to study him further.

“Take your time,” Xie Lian said sweetly.

Feng Xin shook his head hard, like a dog shaking off water, and crossed his legs beneath the table. “General Xuan Zhen and I,” he began, “have agreed on something.”

“I’m proud of you,” Xie Lian chirped, folding his hands atop his belly.

“Yeah, it’s about you,” Feng Xin continued. “We both support your training, and support you, and since all three of us are now important heavenly officials, well—”

Feng Xin looked pained. Mu Qing looked worse; he was not even looking at either of them. Talk of women could make Feng Xin act this way, and talk of wealth could thusly fluster Mu Qing, so whatever they were dancing around either had to do with both those topics, or one scruple the two of them shared—their pride.

Xie Lian smiled. “People remember that the two of you used to be my deputies,” he supplied. “So, you want them to know just what a happy, prosperous family we made, and how well all three of us are doing now.”

Feng Xin seemed to melt. “YES!”

“So you can’t go around dressed like that,” Mu Qing burst out immediately. “Like, seriously, your belly looks like it’s about to to explode out of that old outfit. You’re Prince Xian Le; it’s in your damn name; you have no reason to pretend you can’t do better than—” He gestured at Xie Lian.

Xie Lian blinked.

“This is just a travesty of what you’ve actually had to do to get to this point in your godhood. Come on.”

Running a hand down a hem of his robe, Xie Lian smiled. “I’m not entirely sure what you want from me, Mu Qing, but I am always happy to listen to your frustrations.”

“I’m not—” began Mu Qing, but Feng Xin interrupted him.

“I believe what he means to say,” he said, “is that both of us want better for you. He’s just terrible at expressing that.”

Mu Qing did not reply, only huffed.

“And,” Feng Xin continued, “we both agree that you deserve better. Which is why—” He stopped, and raised an eyebrow at Mu Qing.

“We thought we’d bestow an offering upon you,” he sneered.

“Well, thank you,” Xie Lian replied. “I will gladly accept any offering. May I ask what it is?”

Mu Qing snorted. “You idiot,” he said, “it’s clothes. General Nan Yang and I commissioned a robe which can be let out to a total girth of two hundred cun, or drawn in to a smaller size. It should be able to accommodate even your most intense stomach capacity training, Your Highness.”

He pulled a white bundle of shimmering silk out from a bag at his shoulder, and handed it with stiff decorum to Xie Lian, as if he were still a prince’s deputy in the High Court of the heavens.

“Please,” he said, voice somber, “we would be much obliged if you tried it on at your earliest convenience.”

“What he said,” added Feng Xin.

Xie Lian blinked, then accepted the parcel. It was soft in his hands, and much lighter than he would have expected. The silk was a pure and glossy white, and from within the folds, he glimpsed shimmers of gold trim.

“Okay,” Xie Lian said after a moment of admiration. “Thank you; this is very kind of you. How about if I try it on now?”

It was Feng Xin’s and Mu Qing’s turn to stare silently.

To the awkward silence, Xie Lian raised an eyebrow.

“Can’t stop you, I guess,” said Feng Xin.

“Lovely!” Xie Lian cheered.

Rising to his feet was not as easy a task as it usually was for Xie Lian’s spry and strapping body. Even as his belly happily digested its charge, it still took up space and weight upon his lap, and hence mobility. Gripping the table, he rose to his full height, and the girth of his middle loomed before Feng Xin and Mu Qing, who stayed seated.

Watching Xie Lian slip his outer robe off to reveal the bare expanse of his globelike gut, Feng Xin furrowed his brow and pressed a finger to his mouth, and Mu Qing faintly blushed.

“I know, I know,” Xie Lian said amiably, draping his old clothes over the back of a nearby chair. “Shameless old Xian Le, back at it again.”

“Just keep your pants on,” snapped Mu Qing. “We didn’t get you any new ones of those. Sorry.”

“I promise,” Xie Lian said.

Setting the silken bundle on a tabletop, he had to crane over himself to unwrap it. Nevertheless, he did so meticulously, glad for his clean hands so as not to stain the fine white cloth. After unfolding the garment, he shook it out before himself, watching its expansive folds billow through the air. He had never thought much of fancy clothes back when he wore them regularly, but something about this one warmed his heart.

It was absolutely massive, the size of a small room—though, as he draped it gracefully over his shoulders, he was surprised at how much of it was needed to cover him up.

The fabric fell light and soft atop his arms, and the fine gold patterns embroidered on the collar shimmered down his chest. After he had pulled the silk around his entire self, he felt blanketed in coolness, his belly enveloped in its gentle caress. He would feel like a king, draped in majesty and worship, if he could figure out how properly to wear it.

As Mu Qing had promised, there was much extra fabric around his chest and belly, falling atop him in big, rippling folds. Somewhere lower, more gold embroidery was stitched into some sort of pattern, and something that might have been the ends of a belt hung down at his sides. He frowned.

“Here,” Feng Xin said, rising to his feet, “if I may—”

Feng Xin approached Xie Lian, stepping before him to take the robe’s lapels into his hands, and carefully folded them into an attractively crisp pattern.

“Thanks for that,” Mu Qing said, crossing his arms.

Xie Lian smiled. “How wonderfully clever.”

“Yeah,” replied, Feng Xin. “We figured you’d need something that could continue to fit you, even as you… as your training sees better and better results.”

“How thoughtful!”

Feng Xin’s callused fingertips were careful as he smoothed the folds over Xie Lian’s still-sensitive belly. “And you tie it like this,” he said, and knelt to reach a spot below his belly’s mass. “Hopefully,” he said from beneath, “it won’t ever be uncomfortably tight.”

“You two have put a lot of care into this, haven't you?”

As Feng Xin emerged from tying his clothes, Xie Lian struck a feminine little pose, reminiscent of his days as a street performer, in spite of how different he looked here and now. As he attempted a twirl, his stomach sloshed, and he almost lost his balance, but steadied himself on the back of a chair. “Hehe, sorry.”

“Well,” said Mu Qing, “I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Likewise,” said Feng Xin. “I hope this will benefit your training.”

It sounded as if the pair of them were far more interested in Xie Lian’s unique training regimen than they let on. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I’ve already had my big session for today. While the pair of you are welcome to come by for supper tonight, I’m afraid it will only be an average-sized meal.” He gave his tummy a pat. “You know what I always say about rest as a part of training.”

Both Feng Xin and Mu Qing rolled their eyes. “Yes,” they said in unison.

Xie Lian brightened. “But,” he said, “I do have some errands planned for this afternoon, upon which I would be tickled if you decided to join me.”

Feng Xin snorted.

“Errands?” Mu Qing said. “Your Highness, please. We’re not your servants anymore, remember?”

Xie Lian grinned. “Very well,” he said. “If your pride outweighs any desire to relive old times, I shan’t spite you for it.” He cocked his head apologetically. “I do have to go, though. I am so happy to see you two here, but my tasks for the day are waiting for me.”

“It’s not a problem,” said Feng Xin, forcibly averting his gaze from the bloated Xie Lian now clad in gold-trimmed silk. “This is all we really came here to do.”

“Yeah,” said Mu Qing, “we’re done. Both of us are our own gods, and have better things to do than sit here and ogle our old Crown Prince.”

This made Xie Lian smile. “Very well,” he said. “I’m off to check up on a few of my new shrines, then. Thank you again for these wonderful clothes.”

Turning with nothing more than a little nod, Xie Lian left his old clothes behind, knowing that Hua Cheng would find them later, and put them away with the utmost care. After picking his hat up from where it hung by the doorway, he stepped out into the fresh air.

The day outside was divinely temperate. Cool breezes blowing through the sunlit air just barely penetrated his feather-soft new robe. As a powerful god, it needed not take him more than a few moments to reach any location, but he moved slowly both to be gentle on his belly, and to enjoy the weather.

Along the way, he passed several small houses and settlements. At first, they were populated mostly by employees of Hua Cheng who had come from Ghost City to look after Xie Lian and their lord. These motley creatures, when they caught sight of Xie Lian, gazed reverently upon him, and a few even dared to wave. Xie Lian, of course, waved back cordially to every one of them, now and then stopping to make conversation. He spoke about his unusually bloated shape with forthright honesty, thanking those he recognized from the morning’s feast, and happily regaling others with the reason for his belly’s size. Every one in Hua Cheng’s employ was a friend, of this Xie Lian was firmly convicted.

As he traversed the land, however, human villages began to crop up, accompanied by the usual handfuls of people spending time outside their houses. Many of them stared as he passed by.

Xie Lian offered waves and greetings to all, in the way of the sometime fallen prince that he was. Even around those who froze in shock and made hushed whispers with their fellows, he made no effort to hide his belly, sometimes even cradling it as if he were a mother expecting a baby, and not but a very gorged martial god.

Amidst the lively people, gentle breezes, and happily digesting tummy, Xie Lian was forced to admit that he felt good.

At last, he came upon a shrine. It was one he was very fond of, small and rickety, though made up all of fresh-cut wood, defiant in its optimism, much like Xie Lian himself, and his own Puji Shrine.

Inside, a young maiden was busily sweeping what little dust and dirt she could find on the floor, all of it gathering into a central pile at the behest of her broom.

“Good afternoon!” Xie Lian called out to her.

The maiden turned, and went stock-still. She was more slight than the farmer who had come to Xie Lian with the request to be eaten. The look in her eyes, of pure wonder upon seeing her god in the flesh for the very first time, was nevertheless a perfect match for the other’s. He was reminded, fondly, of how Hua Cheng looked when he was a child—all his followers seemed to share some spark of mystical devotion, and for that Xie Lian felt divinely grateful.

“I cannot thank you enough for your upkeep of this place,” Xie Lian said, giving a little wave. “Everything you do is a help.”

A blush was quickly rising to her face. “Your Royal Highness Xie Lian,” she said faintly.

“A pleasure,” Xie Lian replied. “And might I have your name?”

The maiden’s broom was quivering in her hands. “Oh, Your Highness,” she said instead of answering him, “you look so majestic.” She steadied the broom, then picked it up, pressed it to her body, and bowed low to him.

“Well, thank you.”

Her voice came up in a squeak. “Would it… be… impertinent of me to ask…”

“Please,” Xie Lian said, “keep your chin up, miss. And whether it would be impertinent to ask, I cannot know without first hearing the question, now, can I?”

Slowly, she rose, and held the broomstick close to her, as if she wanted to hide behind it. “Have you,” she said, “...recently consumed a worshipper?”

Xie Lian looked at her scarlet face, then down at his belly, and laughed out loud.

She flinched. “I’m sorry—”

“No, no,” Xie Lian said. “In fact, I’m pleased that this was your impression of me.” Leaning on the wooden wall, he gave the maiden a rakish wink he never would have dared when he was still actually single. “While I will keep my general feeding habits a secret for now,” he said, “I will answer your question with honesty. Inside my belly right now, there is only food. No people, much less any living ones.”

“...Oh.”

From far away, some shouts came across the breeze, of farmers calling to each other over a field, and birdsong came in distant twitters, a cheerful prelude to the coming sunset. Within this shrine, however, all was silent, save for the gentle creaking of the wooden wall supporting Xie Lian’s weight.

“I promise, though,” he said, “that never would I eat you without your asking me first.”

The young woman did not reply.

“I am closed for inquiries right now, though,” he said, and drummed his fingers playfully atop his belly. “As you can see, I am already very full.”

#moray writes #stuffing

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catholic-character-tournament · 1 year

Text

Round 1 - Side A

Propaganda below ⬇️

Enrico propaganda

He grew up in the church and became a priest. so devoted to his faith he ended the UNIVERSE to achieve the perfect world aka heaven

Hes Catholic but also so gay for this one vampire that he ended the world for him

He is LITERALLY one big metaphor for the catholic church as a villain. He’s a guy who believes himself to be a martyr on a fundamentally altruistic quest that will better humanity and the world, but in truth hes a destructive force blind to his faults and hypocritical of the atrocities he commits. Even his altruisim is just a lie (that he does believe himself though) because it all just stems from a deep rooted desire he has to alliviate the guilt he feels. Also hes obsessed with ”the world to come” to the point that hes downright nihilistic towards the current world he actually lives in, as well as the other people in it. which i mean. lol. Ultimately hes an insane delusional queen and he should win this because he is just That catholic. also he is a catholic priest :)

his names pussy bc he served cunt (in a catholic god honoring way)

I want my bestie’s guy in bere

No one could feel guilt to this level if not catholic

Religious Allegory mostly woth how his power(white snake) is contradictory it has white to make you think of good things but it contrast with snake a creature that tempted adam and eve. Although he is a Man of faith his stand's design is far from it being incredibly intimidating and lined with the genetic of dna whihc is scientific compared to faith.

Bro tries to kill a child

serial killer priest bro

HE IS INSANE He spent his whole life believing in fate and when his world turned around Shakespeare tragedy style he made it his mission to bring 「HEAVEN TO EARTH」, which means TEARING AWAY THE FABRIC OF REALITY SO THAT EVERYONE IS AWARE OF THEIR OWN FATE. How does he get there? Simple! By using a half-baked horse to SPEED UP TIME UNTIL THE UNIVERSE RESETS AND LAUNCHES EVERYONE INTO A NEW WORLD. How did he GET this horse??? Oh, as one does - his (dead) best friend's toe bone grew into a baby made of leaves that vored him, but he survived and grew even more eyebrows than he already had. And that's without getting into the STUFF that makes him a phenomenal, S-tier, fine wine that EXPLODES and causes you to see VISIONS type of character. That's just the surface. But, ah, that's Catholics for ya. Vote Enrico Pucci for king of the Catholic tournament. 👍🏻

Flayn Propaganda

she's honestly so much more interesting than people give her credit for. like she often gets written off as "funny little girl who likes fish" but like,,, she is so strong?? after you save her in chapter 6 and seteths first instinct is to hide themselves away from the world again and shes like fuck that shit! she has so much more of a connection to humanity than the others of her kind and that shows in her solo ending vs her paired ending w seteth, wherein she emerges from hiding as soon as she can when on her own but she and seteth emerge to a fódlan thats changed a lot technologically, so far far later. and i love her supports with everyone and shes so genuine and sweet and kind. flayns great i love her.

Patron Saint of Fish 🐟

#enrico pucci #father pucci #jojo's bizarre adventure #flayn fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #cct polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls

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astraymetronome · 1 month

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is it wrong that I kinda want to see dream Being used as a stuffed toy by a sleepy/ bird brain Tommy ?

Nope! Of course not!

Be aware this is a one-off for my main story! I've been working on it since this ask came in around mid-March. I've named it to put it on Ao3 and for my master list!

Warning- Emetophobia, Mentions of fatal vore, a single mention of the character Wilbur soot.

Otherwise please enjoy,

A Nest of Pig and Sheep.

Note-

Birds are really nice and I have an obsession with dsmp. Also- sorry I haven't posted in a while, I'm working on chapter three so expect that soon enough. I also got my nose pierced and it's infected so I'm juggling things.

I'm also well aware of the current Wilbur situation and I support Shubble 100%! It's a little confusing and everything so I'm not gonna bring Wilbur up in anything I post for a while. I just don't know how to feel about it.

Tommy still remembered the stress he’d felt when talking with Techno about the situation currently sitting in his stomach. He’s gotten into a routine of when he would keep Dream trapped away and when Techno would keep an eye on Dream while he took a moment to eat, getaway, and just take a break. It wasn’t that bad, more stressful because Dream refused to let Tommy relax. It was a bad mix for the avian because he couldn’t help the side of his instincts that screamed to please those he imprinted on.

Now, Dream wasn’t the only one he imprinted on. He’d imprinted on Techno and some other family, but the stupid ram was the first one he’d been around when his wings sprouted. If the bird was honest, exile had been hell over the 5 years he’d been stuck in that dumb ass tent. Imprints were hard to get over, it was the main reason he kept wanting to go back to Dream despite his human brain knowing the horrid relationship they shared.

Either way, he was struggling to handle everything together. Tommy was still getting over the past, waking up screaming and having night terrors. His scars would always throb afterward and he was constantly dealing with hearing words from his abdomen as Dream messed with him even from his containment.

It was getting to the point where he was struggling to sleep. Dream would always wait till Tommy was dozing off to start squirming and basically revive his bitching about the situation he’d gotten himself into. It always pissed him off because he was always tired when it happened and he couldn’t do anything about it because they couldn’t trust not having someone watch the shitty ram when he was outside of Tommy’s stomach.

So here he was, half asleep at the kitchen table while Techno made some breakfast. He’s gotten used to chugging the gross mix of fire resistance and regen pots in order to make sure his body wouldn’t hurt him. Despite how much Tommy despised Dream, he couldn’t bring himself to harm him. Yeah, he’d taken the bastard's first two lives, but he wasn’t a monster.

A yawn left him as he watched the piglin brute cook. He would normally try to help, wanting to assist his brother, but Dream hadn’t let him sleep the night before or last night as well. He was angry as he sleepily grumbled and listened to the sound of the sizzling eggs. The smell made his stomach churn, hunger burning more than the potions under his skin. Normally he’d let Dream out in the morning so they both could eat and avoid the embarrassment, but Tommy wasn’t in the mood to deal with him right now.

The avian had dealt with enough anger last night that the idea of being screamed at and cursed out for eating now wasn’t even on his mind. He didn’t care if this pissed off the admin, all he wanted was to eat and try to forget about how tired he was.

“Theseus, you can always do chores later.” The piglin man said with a very small sigh. It was obvious that Techno could see how bone-deep exhausted his little brother was. Tommy found that familiar irritation bubbling in his stomach, wanting to snap at him but he knew better than to bite the hand that feeds you. He just nodded, watching him cook once again.

His eyes were beginning to droop close as his brother worked, the soft sounds of pans and controlled flame were lulling him back to sleep only for his stomach to lurch as a rough shove was placed at the base of his esophagus. Nausea swelled quickly, saliva pooling into his mouth at the same speed. He couldn’t help the growl that built in his throat, a subconscious way to threaten the movement inside his body.

He missed the way Techno’s ears twitched, perking up and towards his direction at the sound. Tommy sat up once more, it was probably a better idea to just give up on sleeping now or at all.

The minutes passed rather quickly, at least as far as he could tell. He blinked softly as his brother placed a plate in front of him before a small cup of tea was sat down as well. He felt a little confused but the smell of it was honestly heavenly. Tommy wanted to scoop up the cup and gulp the apple-scented liquid. He went to cup his hands around the small glass only for his older brother to gently take hold of his hands.

“Before you eat, you’re letting Dream out.” Techno said as he carefully pulled him out of the chair. Tommy held back a chirp, wanting to whine and complain but he didn’t have the energy for it. He gave a nod, agreeing with what his brother wanted before walking to the sink. He acknowledged that the piglin had stepped away as he leaned over and tried to empty his stomach. He couldn’t do it as efficiently as he could with a crop, but avians lacked a gag reflex in exchange for being able to empty their stomachs at will.

Tommy could feel the uncomfortable sensation in his stomach before the squirming weight was forced up and out. He caught the small body in his palms, fingers cradling Dream’s form as he held back a weak whine. He didn’t like throwing up, at all, but they didn’t have a reliable way to trap him. Tommy set Dream down into a bowl of clean soapy water before washing the acid and potions mixer off his hands. He then moved to start cleaning the same combination off of the small ram’s form. Within a moment of starting, Techno placed a hand on his shoulder and carefully pulled him away from the sink.

“I can do it, go eat.” The man mumbled as he pushed the avian towards the table. Tommy simply sighed before giving in and returning to the table.

___

Tommy had devoured most of his breakfast before Techno had finished rinsing Dream off. It was the best thing he’d had in days even if eggs and toast were a pretty common choice for the two of them. The tea had been a sweeter addition than he’d like but it was nice and warmed him up well with how a fire had yet to be made. He could feel the sleepy side of his brain acting up, wanting to give in to the sleepy desire to curl up in his nest. By the time Techno had sat down with Dream tucked into his dress shirt’s front pocket, it was the best place for Techno to keep him without losing his location.

Tommy finished the cup of tea, placing it down before he shoved the last egg into his mouth. He still remembered how his brothers used to call him a cannibal for liking eggs. It wasn’t like they were chicken, plus some kinds of birds eat other breeds. Starlings were prone to it, that's true, but it wasn’t like he wanted to actively hunt actual birds. He didn’t want to do that again. Exile had been the all-time low, he refused to return to that place of his mental and physical health.

He couldn’t help a pleased chirp at the positive weight in his stomach, it wasn’t as heavy as Dream so the sensation wasn’t causing a constant discomfort in his belly. He gave a gentle smile before looking towards his older brother, Techno was eating his own breakfast all while offering some bits to Dream. The main thing that caused a giggle to bubble in his throat was the fact the piglin had lamb sausages instead of beef-related.

A small giggle erupted from his throat before the teen blinked in slight confusion. He wasn’t one to do that. Laughing was something everyone did but Tommy never <em>giggled.</em> He blinked as he looked back up at his brother. He felt confused as he looked around a little before turning to pick up the cup once more. It didn’t smell drugged in any way so nothing really made sense for the fact he began to feel a little on the loppy side.

Techno sighed after a moment before standing, taking the cup from his hand, and setting it down. “Go curl up in my den Tommy.” The brute said before just resuming his meal as if he didn’t just confuse the fuck out of him. Tommy didn’t feel that bothered regardless, his brain just felt fuzzy. The baby bird in his head just happily chirped, eager to listen to his protector as he went to scoop up his plate and cup, planning to place them down in the sink.

Techno simply chuffed, the sound causing Tommy to stop and warble out a complaint. It didn’t even seem to matter since, in seconds, he gave up complaining and instead relaxed to let his older brother take care of the dishes.

A nap in the den sounded nice.

____

Techno watched as Tommy made his way up towards his room. He gave a fond smile once his back was turned and just kept his eyes on how Tommy seemed to be calmer after having drank the tea. The brute found himself sighing as he glanced toward the main elephant in the room, the man in his pocket. The piglin pulled him out, looking over the bastard before placing him on the table.

“Dream. If you don’t stop being stubborn, I’ll eat you myself, and I <em>won’t</em> let you out.” He had respect for the ram, of course, but if Dream didn’t bother to respect Tommy after he won fair and square, he’d do it. He was a man of his word after all.

He could see the way his face shifted and contorted to understand what he was saying, Dream’s face turned slightly frightened before steeling into a stern gaze. “You wouldn’t dare. You can’t kill me, the server would die without an admin!” He barked out. The piglin gave a huff as he scooped up the small man and held him in a loose but firm grip. His hoofs tapped on the tile as he stepped to the sink, placing the plates down inside.

He set Dream on the counter, making sure he was trapped in a glass that wouldn’t allow the dirty blonde to even sit up let alone have the coordination to find a way out. He was quick with the dishes, making sure to keep his eyes on the small man just to be safe. Once he’d finished, and dried off his hands, he made sure to scoop up the man.

“We’re going upstairs, Tommy should be in his instincts by now and I’d rather not deal with an angry bird.” The brute sighed. Techno was well aware he was the reason the avian was in this state. Phil had told him Chamomile tea was a good natural way to trigger instincts. It worked on any hybrid but was really effective on avians. He knew how Tommy was growing up. Before he had even grown his wings the boy’s instincts were bad. The blonde had always been a nest/den hog whenever he was tired or sick. Considering his brother probably hadn’t had a good bout of instincts in a while, this was well overdue since Tommy would rarely even chirp or coo whenever he was comfortable.

Within moments of opening the door, his instincts screaming happily at the heat, Tommy had sat up, his elf-like ears perking curiously, as he tilted his head. He could see how blown out his pupils were, they were widened to the point the smallest rim of the blue could be seen. With this, the blue looked less dull, and brighter than the way Tommy had been before the five years of exile.

If the piglin hybrid was honest, he wished he’d heard about his exile before two years had passed. As far as he’d been aware, Tommy had just been living his life in La’Manburg. His brother probably would have ended up being a vice president or something more. Dream was the main reason, having told others he’d inform Phil and Techno but that hadn’t happened. Phil had been informed through Tubbo and Quackity when they’d rangled him in for the compass and Techno had found out from Ghostbur about a week after Phil had left for La’Manburg.

He felt guilty about it, even after Tommy had betrayed him and left to go back to the people who harmed them both, he knew he’d be here whenever Tommy needed him. That was the role of an older brother and, if Wilbur wasn’t going to fill that role, he would step up and be the figure their baby bird needed.

Techno chuffed as he stepped into the den, Tommy immediately chirped his wings flapping as a small amount of downy slipped from the base of his wings. A small glance at the black and red feathers was enough to tell the brute that Tommy was overdue for some preening. He sighed and stepped in, reaching towards his little brother, before pulling him into his lap. Tommy peeped in response, his wings flapping as the bird glanced back towards him.

“Hold this.” He said simply as he moved Dream towards the little bird’s hands. Tommy didn’t hesitate to grab ahold of the man, the ram screeching in response as he yelled.

“What the hell, Techno! Don’t hand me to some stupid bird who can’t even finish me off!” He barked out. Dream was pissed but Techno wasn’t bothered. He watched as Tommy glanced down at the man before a smile spread across his face. The bird nuzzled him, keeping the blonde near him as he chirped and happily seemed to cuddle him. A part of his brain twinged with jealousy, the protective part of his brain wanting to have his runt cuddling up to him instead but he pushed it away and carefully began to run his fingers through the feathers to start the preening process.

He made his way from the base of his wings towards the tips of his primaries, laying them over the corresponding feathers. He often helped Phil with the base of his wings while occasionally helping with the rest. Their dad had explained that they tend to be more focused on caring for their young instead of having them take care of them.

As he worked, Tommy just seemed to hold Dream on his lap. He seemed to be dozing off while being preened, coos and trills leaving the starling as he pushed his weight into him. By the time he’d finished, Tommy was half asleep, his tail flicking around as he melted into his touch. Techno didn’t hesitate to start placing some golden trinkets into Tommy’s hair, braiding the small amount he could, as he began to give into his own instincts.

The avian had his ears pierced by him when they were younger, Techno’s instincts had gotten the better of him. Tommy had been three then but was an absolute champ over the situation. He took out one of his earrings, slipping the golden hoop into Tommy’s ear, happily chuffing as the bird began to doze off, his breathing evening out as sleep finally claimed the exhausted avian. He relaxed at the sight, taking note of how tightly Tommy held onto Dream. He wouldn’t be able to nap, just in case, but seeing his little brother so relaxed was worth it.

They’d work through this.

Even if the entire server paid for their choices.

#mcyt fanfiction #mcyt g/t #mcyt vore #dsmp tommy #trapped dream au #tiny!dream #avian!tommy #starling au #fanfic #ram!dream #emetophobia warning #digestion mention #aka techno does a heckin threat

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twistedtummies2 · 2 months

Text

Super Beanfest, or Harps & Monsters - Part 1 (Commission)

My last, long-delayed commission from the February round. This is an interesting one, because of how it's going to work: once again, myself and the commissioner are going to attempt to do a multi-part comm, spread out over the course of several months/rounds of writing. The commissioner is @clouddreamer101, for a very long time, they and I have had an idea for a multi-part story for Twisted Wonderland. The story has two basic purposes: introducing their OC, Harmonia (based on the Golden Harp from "Mickey and the Beanstalk") in a proper piece of writing, and also shipping them with my big lad, Billy (based on Willie the Giant from the same cartoon). The two have been shipped together by us for a VERY long time, so it's nice to finally write a full and proper story getting that ship sailing.

Oh, there's also some stuff going on with the canon cast, for the record, with the main focus being Epel Felmier. Because why not? XD

This is the first part of the story, and I will write the other parts with the other commission rounds to come. On that note, if anyone from that next round is reading this, I will be contacting you all sometime within the coming week. In the meantime...some boring stuff...

Rating: T (for safety's sake, above all else)

Disclaimer: All characters and settings from Twisted Wonderland belong to Disney & Aniplex. Billy belongs to me, Harmonia belongs to the commissioner, and the other OCs who cameo in this section belong to either one of us or to another user from Tumblr who, for the time, shall remain anonymous.

WARNING: This section does not contain any DIRECT kinks, aside from some macro/micro elements (if you even count those), but it DOES contain implied vore and other kinky implications. Later chapters shall be more overt, for the record; the rating may go up depending on how those future chapters work out, just for consistency's sake. In any case, DON'T LIKE? DON'T READ.

When will chapter two be done? Probably next month. Till then, keep your eyes peeled, boys and girls...and don't worry! More stories are on the way. ;)

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“Well! It looks like success at last!” “Shhh! Not so loud!” Deuce Spade clamped his mouth shut firmly and nodded at the hiss from Jack Howl. The pair were dressed in their Gym Uniforms for Night Raven College. In Jack’s arms, he carried an unfamiliar third party member: a small young man, with shiny blonde hair, and eyes the color of golden coins. He was dressed in a rather fancy-looking suit, as golden as his eyes and hair, with buttons that resembled musical notes. Jack adjusted his grip as he held the blonde youth bridal style; the wolfman blushed at the intimate position as he began to carefully walk off, carrying the golden boy with him. Deuce took up the rear; he was holding a pair of bean blasters in his hands. “Thank you,” whispered the young man with yellow hair, in a timid little voice. Jack just grunted noncommittally. “You’re welcome,” he grumbled, then smirked. “I guess even Royal Sword students can be helpful sometimes.” The RSA member in question smiled shyly. “Come on!” Deuce called out…then, remembering he wasn’t supposed to be so loud, dropped his voice to a whisper. “Come on, Epel! What are you waiting for?” Epel Felmier had paused at the rear. He was dressed much more extravagantly than his two fellow NRC classmates: garbed in a black beret and the red-white-and-orange getup of a Farmer uniform for Beanfest. The effeminate fellow looked upwards, biting his lip thoughtfully, large aqua blue eyes narrowed. Overhead, a towering figure loomed, snoring so loudly, the entire colosseum around the four shook to its foundations. The giant leaned back against the bleachers, hands folded over the upper curve of his big, fat belly, which rose and fell like a living hill over their heads. Epel’s focus, however, wasn’t on the titan’s face, nor on his gut: it was on the (extra extra extra extra) large leather boots the colossus wore. He saw that the looped ends of the laces were dangling low and long…and the feet were close together. A sly smirk crossed Epel’s face, and he crept closer to the giant, taking hold of the laces as he moved between the ogre’s feet. “What are you doing?!” the RSA student hissed in alarm, as Deuce and Jack watched with perplexed expressions. “Making doubly sure he won’t follow us,” Epel replied, and began to try and tangle the laces together into a knot. “I’m taking no chances. Just in case the big guy-” The snoring suddenly came to a short stop. Epel froze at the sound’s stoppage. He saw Jack, Deuce, and the RSA student all turn pale as a trio of sheets. “...M-Might wake up-EEK!” Epel cried out as the feet jerked to either side, and the laces he still held pulled him clear off the ground as he held them tightly in his hand, stretching him out. The tiny Pomefiore Poison Apple looked up… …And gulped nervously as he saw a pair of cold blue eyes glaring down angrily. The giant growled, snarling, revealing his rather sharp-looking, bone-crushing teeth…and a fat hand began to reach for Epel. Felmier gulped nervously, as the shadow of those greedy fingers overcame him. “...Oh, crab-apples…”

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Three Months Earlier…

“Pick up the pace, potatoes. Unlike that mangy cat in Savanaclaw, I like to be on time.” “Oh, oui-oui, Roi du Poison! We follow in your footsteps like carefree lambs!”

Epel Felmier rolled his eyes and repressed the urge to groan, as walked behind Rook Hunt and Vil Schoenheit. They, along with the rest of Pomefiore - and, in fact, the rest of the school - had been called into the Assembly Hall at Night Raven College. The auditorium was already packed, and more and more students were still pouring in, ushered by their Housewardens and Vices into the seats. Carefully but quickly, Epel found a seat of his own. It wasn’t too long till all of his dorm members were seated; Rook and Vil took the last two seats remaining, with the former immediately to his right, and the latter just beyond, each sitting straight and tall. Vil’s expression was one of cool, detached, business-like calm, while Rook wore his usual not-so-blithe smile. Epel looked around. He frowned in confusion as he scanned the faces - and, more importantly, the heights - of all the assembled students from Pomefiore. Someone, he quickly realized, was missing. “Pssst! Hey! Hey, Vil!” he whispered. Vil’s eyes slid towards Epel ominously, his expression showing a hint of stern disdain. Epel flinched and took a breath, realizing his mistake. “Um…e-excuse me, Housewarden.” “That’s better,” smirked Vil, and turned to look at Epel fully. “What is it, Epel?” “I don’t see Billy here with us. He’s pretty hard to miss,” the lavender haired young fellow explained. “So where’d he go?” Vil shrugged. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “The Headmage called him to his office earlier today, and I have not seen him since. This was before he announced the Assembly.” “Not to worry, Monsieur Pommette!” Rook chuckled cheerily. “I’m sure Monsieur Geant will be quite alright!” Epel frowned, turning away from the pair thoughtfully. He wasn’t necessarily WORRIED about Billy: the shapeshifting ogre could easily take care of himself in many ways. If anything, Epel envied the big lug: he was somehow able to be both extra super manly and strangely adorable at the same time, a struggle the young Felmier was still going through. A small smirk crossed Epel’s face and he chuckled. He and the giant actually had quite a bit in common…but sheer size could not be one of those similarities. He wondered how Billy would have done in Savanaclaw… Shaking his head to clear it, Epel, straightened his posture (he’d caught Vil side-eyeing him again at his hunched seating arrangement), and tried to dismiss the matter. If Billy had gone to see Crowley, then he would probably arrive when the Headmage arrived. No need to be concerned, as Rook had said. It wasn’t too much longer till all were assembled. Finally, Dire Crowley - adjusting his gloves, top hat, and Venetian mask as he entered - stepped into the center of the auditorium stage. Using a simple voice-amplifying spell in place of a microphone, he walked up to the podium and gained the attention of the student body. All idle chatter ceased as the Headmage addressed them.

“Quiet! Quiet all! Listen, everyone! Can you all see me? Can you all hear me? Good,” nodded Crowley, when he was certain all eyes were on him. “Ahem…I’m sorry to have stopped classes so abruptly, but I have some major news, and given the…rather sudden nature of this news, I felt an immediate assembly was best called for. I’m sure all of you are aware of our annual Beanfest competition here on Sage’s Island, correct?” Mumbles and murmurs of recognition came from the students. Epel cocked his head curiously, wondering where this was going. Beanfest, of course, was an important occasion at Night Raven College: every year, the student body would be split into two teams - Farmers and Monsters - in remembrance of the legend of Happy Valley. The legend told the story of a daring farmer who rescued a magical Golden Harp from the clutches of a monstrous giant. Billy’s absence was now almost comical: he was a descendant of the ogre that had matched wits with the farmer those centuries long past. The size-shifting giant was very proud of his heritage, and got VERY excited over Beanfest. Epel shivered a bit, remembering how Billy had swallowed some farmers the last Beanfest, as a means of capturing them…watching the giant belch entire people out of his gut was not exactly a pleasant sight… In any case, however, Beanfest was still a few months away. Why was the Headmage bringing it up now? “Well! You’re all in for a special treat this year!” Crowley’s voice barked, as he clapped his hands together, a rather eager smirk on his dark lips as he spoke. “For this year’s Beanfest, we’ll be collaborating with our…esteemed rivals at Royal Sword Academy, for what their headmaster and I have decided to call… Crowley paused impressively, as if to build up suspense…then threw out his arms and cheered to the high heavens. “SUPER BEANFEST!” The chirp of a lonely cricket was the only sound that answered his booming cry. Crowley’s exuberant expression quickly cooled. He lowered his arms, looking rather embarrassed. Then a single hand shot up. “Um…Headmage?” “Yes, Mr. Spade?” Epel looked towards the hand as it lowered, to see a rather befuddled Deuce tilt his own head in confusion equal to Felmier’s own. “How is ‘Super Beanfest’ different from…well…normal Beanfest, I guess?” “Ah! I’m glad you asked!” answered Crowley, who sounded rather relieved that SOMEBODY cared enough to wonder. “That’s where the collaboration comes into play: instead of a contest between our own students, against each other, Super Beanfest will be a battle between the two schools. Now, things may be a bit confusing, so do pay attention: one student from Night Raven College has been pre-selected to act as a ‘Head Monster.’ Another student at RSA has also been pre-picked to play the role of the Golden Harp.” “Wait…the harp is actually going to be a person?” an anonymous student called.

“Correct!” Crowley crowed. “The goal of the Farmers will be to rescue the Golden Harp, as is usually the case, but this Harp will be another student instead of a simple prop. The Harp and the Head Monster will be stationed in a yet-to-be-disclosed location. Further rules about this matter will be explained in the future, but the important point to note is that the Head Monster must guard the Golden Harp, and the Harp must remain stationary inside the Head Monster’s ‘lair,’ unless accompanied by the Farmers.” “Interesting,” murmured a thoughtful voice. Epel wasn’t sure, but it sounded like the voice of Riddle Rosehearts. “So, our students will be taking the role of the Monsters to try and blockade Royal Sword’s students?” “Ah, this is where things get interesting,” said Crowley, waggling a finger and with a twinkle in his eye. “You see, my dear students…you WON’T be playing the Monsters, aside from the one Head Monster chosen. Instead, our school has been selected to play the Farmers.” “What?!” exclaimed several students at once. “We get to play the heroes saving the day?!” gasped Cater Diamond’s voice. “That’s totes cool! Ha, I’m gonna have to come up with some fun hashtags right away…!” “Please don’t,” groaned the irritated voice of Sebek Zigvolt. “When was this decided?” Vil demanded to know, his sudden call causing Epel to jump slightly in his seat. “When I lost the straw-pulling lottery to decide,” drawled Crowley, in a dry voice, with a drab look. He quickly brightened up again and went on, holding up his hands to placate the stirring students as he continued… “ANYWAY! On the date of the Event, a group of students will be selected at random to act as possible candidates for Team Captains, and the Head Monster and Golden Harp will select their respective Captains from the chosen pool. The Captains will create a general strategy at the start of the game, and lead whatever students they choose in the event: simple as that. The choice will be totally based on their decisions, and with our schools so separate, there should be no inherent bias on either side. Also, since this is the first Event of its kind - and as it has yet to be determined if there will be another like it in the future - the Headmaster of Royal Sword and I have agreed that all students will be permitted to participate. PERMITTED, but not required: if you wish to back out for any reason, you may.” “YES! THANK YOU, ZEUS!” came a voice that could only belong to Idia Shroud. Several people rolled their eyes, including Dire Crowly. “Anyway, All of Sage’s Island will be the battleground, and the teams will meet at specific ‘camps’ off the campuses on the island,” the Headmage went on, then shrugged nonchalantly. “Beyond all that, the rules are essentially the same. Farmers will take out Monsters using bean shooters, Monsters have to try and trap Farmers to keep them from getting the Golden Harp, and bits of gear and special uniforms will be scattered around the woods on the island for both teams to try and find. You all know the drill from there. So, are there any questions?” Epel immediately raised his hand. “Yes, Mr. Felmier?” Crowley pointed him out. “Excuse me, but you said you’d already picked who the Head Monster and the Golden Harp will be,” Epel commented. “So…who are they? Or is that confidential information at all?” “Not in the least,” chuckled Crowley. He seemed greatly amused as he grinned at Epel and the other students. “In fact, the Head Monster is someone you should know very well, Mr. Felmier. Someone everybody here should know! After all, even among our esteemed student body…” Crowley stepped aside from the podium, doffing his hat, as if introducing some grand circus act.

“...You could say he’s larger than life.” The instant those words left Crowley’s lips, Epel suddenly knew exactly who he meant. It all made sense. Why one certain person was missing from the Pomefiore group. Why they’d been called out of class earlier. And perhaps even why this Event had been arranged in the weird way it was. THUMP-A-THUMP-A-THUMP. Pounding footsteps seemed to rock the entire hall. Whispers and murmurs echoed through the assembly area. At the podium, a black and white tie was straightened somewhat nervously, and an indigo vest was adjusted as it clung desperately the sizeable, heaving mass of lard and muscle buried beneath the clean, constricting school uniform. Gapteeth were briefly visible as the absolutely gigantic figure at the podium - standing somewhere between seven and eight feet in height - took a breath and ran one huge, fat hand through their carrot-colored, crew-cut hair. Then, baby blue eyes sparkled as their expression became first a proud and challenging smirk…and then a beaming smile. “Hi there, Little Friends!” cheered Billy Geant, saluting everyone playfully. “I just wanna say one thing: don’t worry about when the big day comes. I promise…I won’t go easy on you.” Epel gulped. Beside him, Rook chuckled, cupping his chin as his eyes narrowed almost deviously. “Sacre bleu,” Hunt murmured. “This just got a bit more interesting…”

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Meanwhile, across the island, in the gilded halls of Royal Sword Academy, a lonely figure was walking through a seemingly empty corridor. The figure was a young man, just slightly below average height, though he seemed much smaller with the way he walked as he trudged through the palatial hallway. His slender, slim physique didn’t help much either; his thin framework bordered on the unhealthy in its leanness, making him seem even tinier than he really was. Ironically, the blue-and-white standard issue uniform of RSA he wore made him seem a little bulkier, in contrast. The young man sighed, brushing some stray strands of his blonde bangs away from his golden-hued eyes. In the corner of his left eye was a tiny birthmark; a similar beauty mark dotted his chin. He adjusted a small white hearing aid he wore in one ear, pausing in his dreary march to look upwards. As sunlight spilled through a stained glass window, it illuminated his soft, almost effete features, which gave him a somewhat androgynous appearance. “Why?” he groaned to the ceiling beyond, voice echoing slightly in the extravagant passage. “Just…just why?” “Why, you ask?” The young man let out a mousey squeak of alarm and looked around, rather startled, as a new voice seemed to croon into his ears. The voice seemed to come from nowhere, and yet everywhere. “Why is one of my favorite questions,” the voice continued to coo. “I’m also partial to ‘Who?’ and ‘Where?’ But ‘Why?’ It’s such a silly thing to ask…and that’s why I love it!” The blonde-haired boy sighed again, this time with some mild irritation. “I’m not in the mood for games right now, Che’Nya,” he grumbled, crossing his arms impatiently. “You-” PFBBBT! The young man eeped and spluttered as a tongue suddenly appeared out of thin air, blowing a raspberry into his face. He glared, huffishly, wiping the speckles of spittle from his cheeks one one sleeve as a disembodied grin, filled with sharp, pointed, pearly teeth, sliced its way inches from his face. “Spoilsport,” came a voice from the mouth, as a second pair of golden eyes popped into view a little over the grin’s crescent curve. “Come on, Harmonia! What’s biting your tail, huh?” Harmonia frowned and turned away. “Why should I tell you?” he mumbled. “You��re just going to tease me.” Che’Nya’s whole face - feline ears, purple hair, and all - appeared in thin air as he gasped with horror. “Me?! Tease someone when they’re on the brink of des-purr?” he punned, the disembodied catboy’s head circling around him. “What makes you think I’d do something like that?”

Harmonia just eyed the neko skeptically…then sighed and sat down on a nearby bench. “Just leave me alone,” he mumbled. Che’Nya’s expression faltered. He looked concerned…but only for a few seconds. The look gave way to a knowing sort of smirk, and the Cheshire Cat swirled into full view. He was dressed as he always was: in an oversized white uniform coat that hung loosely about his frame like an undone straitjacket, along with blue jeans dotted with badges and buttons. He sauntered over and sat beside Harmonia on the bench with a sort of brotherly smile. “Let me guess,” he purred. “You’re upset about Headmage Ambrose’s arrangement with NRC, aren’t you?” “I’m upset about being chosen to play the Golden Harp,” Harmonia replied, glumly. “Why?” Che’Nya asked, tilting his head curiously. “I thought you just said that was a silly question,” Harmonia retorted. “Oh, it is, but it’s also a fun one to answer,” grinned Che’Nya, and nudged him with his head, like a cat nuzzling and pawing at its master. “Come ooooon! Tell me! Tell me!” Harmonia half-heartedly pushed the Cheshire Cat back, and just grumbled, “Forget it. Go away.” “Awww, now that’s not very nice at all,” pouted Che’Nya. “Come on, lighten up! After all, you can’t very well protect Happy Valley if you aren’t happy, can ya?” “I’M NOT PROTECTING THAT PLACE!” Harmonia suddenly shouted, snapping angrily at the cat and leaping from the bench. Che’Nya jumped back, rather startled as the golden boy began to march away. “Just…I don’t want to hear anything else about Happy Valley, or Golden Harps, or…!” “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Turn down the juice!” Che’Nya exclaimed, and hurriedly moved to block Harmonia’s way. His own yellow eyes had become soulful and serious, a rare expression on the feline’s face. “Listen, I can tell when a person needs a listening ear. I’m the Cheshire Cat. I have all the answers…” He playfully tapped Harmonia’s nose, smiling anew. Harmonia squeaked and covered his snout, which made the cat grin wider. “...You just have to keep from getting confused. So go ahead. Lay it on me. If you don’t bite, I won’t.” Che’Nya’s grin made sure to show all his teeth on that last sentence. Harmonia bit his lip, squirming a bit…then sighed. “How much do you know about me?” he asked, timidly. Che’Nya shrugged and slung his arms behind his head lazily. “Nyaaa…I know a little,” he yawned. “Your family line is descended from the magic of the Golden Harp itself, and your Unique Magic comes from her power, passed down through generations, blah blah blah…guess your problem is you’re tired of being typecast?” “Something like that,” admitted Harmonia with a nod. He hugged himself and turned away. “It’s more than that, though. I’m…well…I’m scared.” “Scared?” meowed Che’Nya, raising an eyebrow. “Of what?” Harmonia looked up at him with anxiety in his eyes. “The whole reason they’re doing this Event is because of me. Well…me and one other student.” “Who?” Che’Nya asked, and then giggled. “I really do love that question. ‘Who.’ So many answers you can come up with, and most of them won’t be correct!”

Harmonia decided to ignore that random bit of weirdness, and simply went on. “Some other student at Night Raven,” he said, gravely. “And just as I’m descended from the Golden Harp…” “...They’re descended from the Giant.” Harmonia’s eyes widened. “You…you already know?” Che’Nya smiled oh-so-innocently. “I might have overheard the two Headmages talking to each other. Just a little bit,” he winked. “Then you should know why I’m scared already!” Harmonia said, exasperatedly, and began to tremble as he hugged himself tighter, rubbing at his own shoulders, as if he were experiencing a chill. “I’m descended from the harp, THE harp! And…and he’s descended from THE giant! It’s…it’s like putting a cat and a mouse in the same room, you know it’s not gonna end well!” “Well. That depends on if you’re the cat or the mouse,” smirked Che’Nya, licking his lips in emphasis. “What if he eats me?” whimpered Harmonia, ignoring the cat completely. “Or…or wh-what if he crushes me flat? What if I get stolen a-and taken away, l-like a trophy?” Che’Nya clucked his tongue. “What if, what if, what if?” he chanted in a nasally, mocking way. “Listen, Little Harmony, that’s one question I DON’T like. What’s gonna be is gonna be! There’s no need to get so worked up about it. It’s better to just decide to stop fighting it and go with the flow!” Harmonia scoffed. “Easy for you to say, you’re not the one at risk here. If there’s one thing my family drilled into me that I actually gave any care about, it’s that you can’t trust giants,” Harmonia replied. “They’re greedy monsters. They smell bad. Th-they eat people and smash them just for fun…” “Oh, so you’ve met them all, then?” Che’Nya grinned, almost tauntingly. Harmonia went silent. “Maybe this giant will be a monster, but maybe he won’t be,” Che’Nya went on. “You say you’re tired of people judging you just for being the Harp’s descendant? Well, how do you think he’d feel?” Che’Nya smiled with surprising kindness as he leaned down to Harmonia’s level. “Besides, it’s just a GAME, Little Harmony,” he mewed. “When it’s all over, you can come back home to school.” “Yeah, if I survive,” droned Harmonia sadly. “Gods, I feel like I’m a pawn on a chessboard. No, worse: I’m a chess king.”

“Nya? How is that worse than a pawn?” “Because the King doesn’t DO anything. That piece literally just exists to be captured so somebody else can win the game. The King can’t move very far in any direction and really SHOULDN’T move. It sounds important, but it’s…useless. That’s exactly how the rules have made me out to be.” “Hmmmm…purr-haps,” conceded the cat. “But there ARE still moves the King can make to help protect itself and win the game. As for pawns, they can become queens if they reach the end of the board.” Harmonia was silent, mulling that fact over. Che’Nya chuckled. “You know…in the legend of Happy Valley, the Golden Harp wasn’t completely helpless,” the kitty-boy recalled. “If I re-mew-mber correctly, she actually HELPED the farmers defeat the giant. They couldn’t have won without her. Maybe you should stop seeing your past as a curse, and use that legacy inside of you to your advantage.” The feline giggled. “Or maybe you can just sit nice and pretty and golden-goosey, and you’ll get by without aaaany problems! That works too, don’tcha think?” Harmonia looked Che’Nya up and down, as if he was trying to decide how serious the Cheshire Cat was. “I guess that’s fair,” he said at last, then gave a small sort of smile. “Maybe you have a point. And…well…it’s all decided already, and I’m the only one who CAN’T back out. It would defeat the whole purpose if I did. Might as well just…work with what I’ve got, right?” “That’s the spirit!” cheered Che’Nya, chucking Harmonia lightly in the shoulder with one fist, then smirked wickedly. “And besides, getting eaten by a giant wouldn’t be THAT bad for you, would it now?” Harmonia turned a little paler, and a slightly hysterical, nervous little laughed left him. “HA HA HA HA, you’re funny. No. Just…just no. Please, disappear now,” he groused. Che’Nya laughed loudly.

“You got it! I’m good at that!” he sang out. “After all, it’s what Cheshire Cats do best…” As he began to swirl away, bit by bit, Che’Nya arched an eyebrow sneakily and added: “What do you think Golden Harps do best, hm?” Before Harmonia could answer, Che’Nya had vanished into the ether. He looked around, as if to make sure the cat wasn’t still watching him…then sighed softly. “I guess I’ll need to find out,” he mumbled, and walked away. He held himself a little taller, trying to boost his own self-confidence. All the same, he still felt dreadfully nervous inside.

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The day of the Super Beanfest competition came. Epel Felmier was dressed in his gym uniform, as was standard. The schools had arranged a rendezvous point, midway between the two campuses in the woods. This was where the Captains Pools would meet, and the Head Monster and Golden Harp would make their selections. Epel was the first of the Farmer Captains Pool to arrive. Not necessarily by choice, admittedly: the young farmboy (wasn’t THAT a coincidental background) had found sleep difficult, and had woken early partially as a result. He was seated upon a boulder, looking up at the early morning sky through the gaps in the trees above. The Pomefiore student breathed deeply, allowing his eyes to slide closed. The smell of the trees, and all the rustic odors of nature around him - particularly of the sweet berries and other fruits he could detect somewhere in the green woods - reminded him so much of home…but the faint scent of the sea breeze, wafting through the bushes and brambles from the beach beyond, gave it a sort of ethereal quality one could not find in Harveston. Epel had come to enjoy it here, in the forest…which gave him some confidence he sorely needed. Epel breathed out heavily; not quite a sigh, but very close. He wished he could say the Captains Pool for his school had been chosen with strategic brilliance, and that he’d been elected as an option due to practical reasons of belief in his abilities…but that wasn’t the case at all. The same method that had been used to decide which school would be the Farmers and which school would be the Monsters (minus Billy and the Golden Harp) had been used to determine the Captains. Epel had just been lucky to be chosen. This, Felmier reflected, shouldn’t have bothered him too much: if there was one thing a certain sledding match had taught him, it was that he had the makings of a leader, and he’d always been one to challenge other authorities to begin with. But truth be told…he was worried. This was different, in his mind. There was a lot more riding on something like this. If he got picked, he’d have the pressure of not just a small team of people, but an entire school, heaped upon his shoulders. And if he didn’t get picked, then it would honestly be a bit saddening; he couldn’t help but feel such a choice would mean he wasn’t perceived as fit for the role, and he was very tired of being judged so simply. Either way, he couldn’t win. “Excuse me!” came a voice. “Are you from Night Raven College?”

Epel opened his eyes, and looked to see who had spoken. His eyes widened in surprise at the rather peculiar figure he saw striding towards him: it was a young man, about the same age as himself, but standing a little bit taller. The young man had blonde hair and curious golden eyes, which looked like the yolks of two expertly-cooked eggs in a sea of milky white. The fellow youth wore a hearing aid, but this wasn’t what made him seem odd: it was the very bizarre costume he wore, which was a rather fancy, somewhat old-fashioned-looking suit colored almost entirely in sparkling, glittering gold. The buttons on the coat and vest were made to resemble musical notes, and the cuffs and the trousers remind Epel of the bars on a sheet of music. Topped off with high-heeled (but still fairly masculine-designed) shoes, the newcomer cut was certainly a spectacle to behold. Epel blinked a few times, feeling he might go blind…then awkwardly nodded. “Uh…yeah,” he greeted, slowly. “Howdy-I mean, hello. My name’s Epel. Lemme guess: you’re the Golden Harp?” The newcomer smiled shyly. His timid demeanor didn’t quite match his over-glitzy costume. “Yeah, pretty obvious, isn’t it?” he chuckled, indicating his outfit. “Can’t deny that,” Epel said, with a smile that was slightly forced. He couldn’t help but admit he felt a little surge of bitter apprehension surge inside of his heart: to say that Royal Sword Academy and Night Raven College were rivals was often putting it mildly. The two schools were arch-enemies, and many NRC students would have leapt at the chance to quite literally pounce on the newcomer just for a lark. Epel had faced a few defeats against the rival school in the past, and wasn’t particularly happy to see the leading figure of the opposing team - the one who’d be choosing a Captain from his pool - so suddenly and alone. The newcomer didn’t seem to notice. He smiled in a friendly way and held out a hand. “I’m Harmonia,” he greeted. “Harmonia A’Cappella. It’s nice to meet you.” “Mutual,” Epel lied, as he shook Harmonia’s hand. The descendant of the harp smiled a bit wider, then tilted his head. “Hold on…I think I’ve seen you somewhere before,” he murmured…then his eyes widened. “Wait a bit! Were you in the VDC Championship? The one where Neige competed?” Epel narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “I was one of the lead performers.” He braced himself for what Harmonia would say next; he expected some show of pithy pity or perhaps even a bit of boasting…something about how he shouldn’t feel bad, because he did good, too, even though Neige and his posse were SO good… “Wow!” Harmonia laughed. “It’s such an honor to meet you! I’m so sorry, by the way, you guys were ROBBED that year. Seriously.” Epel gaped. “...Wh-what?”

“Don’t get me wrong: Neige is a cool guy. I’m in his dorm at RSA,” said Harmonia, and rubbed the back of his head with a light laugh. “But, uh…I’m sorry, that children’s song over what YOU guys did? That’s just INSANE. You guys had so much STYLE! So much POWER in your voices! There was so much skill and so much emotion, and the song itself? That just…wow, that honestly really hit me in a good place. Right here.” Harmonia patted his chest in emphasis, giving a sympathetic smile. “You guys should have won. Not us. I’m seriously sorry the judges didn’t take your side.” Epel blinked a few times…then his smile started to become more genuine as a hint of pink colored his cheeks. “I mean…well…thank you! It honestly means a lot to hear you say that,” chuckled Epel, then smirked. “I’d expect the Golden Harp to know a thing or two about music.” Harmonia shrugged. “Well, I do, but it’s not necessarily just for those reasons. Honestly, I’m more experienced with classical stuff,” he sighed, sounding a bit disappointed as he sat down in the grass nearby. “I’d like to change that sometime. You’re so lucky, by the way.” “I am?” “Dude. You got to work with VIL. FRICKIN’. SCHOENHEIT. Do you know what I’d give to even meet him for two seconds?” gushed Harmonia, and smiled in a sentimental way, looking askance. “He and Neige…they both helped me in a time when I really needed it…” “Funny. The Housewarden never mentioned helping someone like you,” Epel remarked. “Oh, not personally. I mean…listening to their music, watching their movies. They inspired me. They made me want to-wait. Did you say HOUSEWARDEN?!” “Yes!” giggled Epel, enjoying the look of utter spellbound awe on Harmonia’s face. “He’s the leader of my dorm. That’s one of the reasons I took part in that contest.” Harmonia just stared. He was filled with admiration, his expression one of purest wonder. “Wow,” he whispered again, and laughed softly. “I’m a little jealous. You were so great onstage, too! It must have been fun.” “That’s, uh…one word for it,” Epel chuckled nervously, remembering the horrors of Vil’s Overblot behind the scenes. “I have to admit, one nice thing was that it was public: meant no one could make the mistake of thinking I’m a girl ever again, if they saw it live or on TV.” “Psh. Yeah, I can sympathize with that,” snorted Harmonia, and gestured to his own face. “I don’t get misgendered TOO often, but it’s annoying when it happens.” Epel’s smiled had become a real grin. He was quickly starting to feel he liked this RSA student. “Are you excited for the competition?” he asked. Harmonia’s smile faded, and he looked away. “Honestly, I’m…really, REALLY scared of meeting the Head Monster,” he answered, nervously, fingers fiddling around each other.

“I guess I would be, too, if I were you,” nodded Epel, then scooted closer with an assuring smile. “Billy is actually in my dorm, too, you know.” “Billy?” blinked Harmonia. “The Giant’s name is…Billy?” “Yeah, why?” “I dunno, just…I expected a giant to have a name like ‘Rothbart the Terrible’ or ‘Redjac the Ravenous,’ not just…um…Billy.” Epel snickered. “His name’s not the only thing that will surprise you,” he said with a merry twinkle in his blue eyes. “Trust me, you’ll be fine. But, uh…can I give you some advice?” “Huh? Oh, um…s-sure, what’s that?” “Whatever you do, do NOT piss him off,” Epel warned. “Keep on good terms with him, and you have nothing to fear.” Harmonia let out a very, VERY nervous laugh. “R-right, uh…ha ha ha…n-no pressure…” In his mind, the mantra of I am so dead, I am so dead, I am so dead kept repeating itself. “Well now!” a voice called out. “This is a surprise! And here we thought you were running late!” The voice was addressing Epel, who turned about, recognizing it. It was Dire Crowley, who was leading a group of NRC students - the rest of the Captains Pool - into the woodlands. The other options for potential Captains, courtesy of the random raffle, were Vil, Deuce, Jack, Riddle, Sebek, and Cater, who approached in that same order. Vil seemed mildly impressed (which, with him, could be taken as the highest form of praise), while the rest mostly seemed astonished to see Epel so far ahead of them. “Well, I wanted to be bright and early,” chuckled Epel in greeting, and helped Harmonia stand up as he went to greet his fellow classmates. “Hmph. And who is this human?” Sebek huffed, haughtily, crossing his arms and sticking his nose up, while the rest eyed the golden-garbed figure with curiosity. “This is Harmonia A’Cappella,” Epel introduced his new acquaintance. “He’s the Descendant of the Golden Harp, and he’ll be choosing one of us as the Farmer Captain. Right, Harmonia?” “R-Right,” stuttered Harmonia, and approached the group somewhat nervously. “It’s, ah…it’s nice to meet you all.” Jack and Sebek grunted, noncommittally. Each eyed the RSA student with a sort of dubious interest. It was clear that each of them was focusing on him as an opponent rather than as an ally, at the moment. The others, however, were thankfully more openly welcoming. “A pleasure, I’m sure,” Riddle greeted, politely, and held out a hand, which Harmonia shook firmly. Riddle smiled. “A decent grip there. I approve.” “Don’t think we’ll go easy on you, no matter which of us you choose,” Deuce piped up with a bold smirk. “We’re gonna save you no matter what!” Harmonia and Epel shared a look; the way Deuce said that made it sound like he was planning to punch the Harp in the face rather than rescue him. “Uh…well…thank you, I think?” Harmonia replied. “That’s such a cool costume!” Cater suddenly exclaimed. “Oh, you have GOT to let me get a picture of it! It’s so totally cammable! Can I? Please?” Harmonia, a bit overwhelmed, stammered out an agreement…and a few moments later was blinking camera flash out of his eyes as Cater snapped a hurried selfie.

“Awesome!” squealed Cater, eagerly tapping at his phone. “HashtagGonnaSaveThisLittleDude! HashtagGoingForTheGold! HashtagSuperBeanfest! Aaaand…send!” The other NRC members all rolled their eyes at Cater Diamond’s antics. By now, Harmonia had recovered, and was standing before Vil. For a moment, he just stood there, clearly unsure of what to say. Vil arched an eyebrow impatiently. “Well?” was all he said. “Speak up, golden potato. I can tell you’re busting at the seams, with the way you’re shaking.” Harmonia needed all his willpower not to immediately burst into an explosive squeal of joy. He knew that would never do. “I, um…I just wanted to say, I…I’m a REALLY big fan of yours, Mr. Schoenheit,” he said, timidly, and held out his hand. “You have absolutely no idea what an honor it is to meet you in person. Um…I-I hope you win. F-For my sake, I mean! Heh heh…yeah…” Vil blinked twice…then smiled, slightly superciliously, and returned the handshake. “It’s always a pleasure to meet a fan,” he said, honestly. “If things go well for our team, when the competition is over, perhaps you’d like an autograph?” Harmonia was astonished and delighted. His eyes sparkled like the Sun. “Oh! Oh, y-yes, sir! That…that would be AMAZING, thank you, sir!” “We’ll see then,” nodded Schoenheit, then gripped Harmonia’s hand more tightly and leaned forward, his smile somewhat sinister. “However, right now we ARE in a competition. I think it would be wise for both of us to keep our heads in the game. Don’t you?” “Ah! Oh, y-yes! Yes, that’s true! Um…thank you again, Mr. Schoenheit. Sir.” Vil chuckled softly, and released Harmonia’s hand. “You’re welcome,” he said, serenely but sincerely. Harmonia was still beaming with joy as he stepped back. While these introductions had been going on, Dire Crowley had been busy checking his pocket watch. “Well,” the Headmage of Night Raven spoke up. “The other team should be arriving shortly, as well as our Head Monster.” “Correction, Headmage Crowley!” called a somewhat creaky sort of voice. “The other team has arrived!” Harmonia and the Night Raven crew looked to see a group of students approaching from the opposite side of the woodland clearing. The expressions on all of the Night Raven students’ faces turned a bit cold as they saw the blue robes of Ambrose LXIII - headmaster of Royal Sword - and the similarly-hued gym uniforms that were worn by the students following close behind him. A few of the newcomers were familiar to the NRC students already: one was a young fellow in a green beret, who hovered over the rest of the RSA Captains Pool with a cocksure smile on his face. Sebek quickly recognized him as Matthew Satyr, who had bedeviled the NRC crew during the Scavenger’s Hunt competition. Another familiar figure was Neige LeBlanche, who waved cheerfully at Vil as he all but skipped forward. Vil responded with a cold sort of smile and a curt nod.

Others, however, were less well-known. One was a strapping youth with dark-toned skin, and long, somewhat shaggy, curly hair. A pin that resembled a sunflower was stuck into said hair, and from beneath the moppish top sprouted two curled horns and a pair of pointed animal ears. His mouth was filled with sharp teeth. His hands ended in long white gloves, which tapered at the fingertips, as if to conceal claws. These were barely visible as he crossed his arms and snorted like a buffalo; his demeanor was a perfect match to that of Howl and Zigvolt. Another had curious, pinkish skin, and brick-colored hair that was tied back into a long ponytail. He, too, had horns: they were colored sky blue, and resembled those of a Long. He had pointed ears, and carried a long, golden-tipped staff in one hand. His smile was boyish and slightly mischievous, a sort of sneaky gleam in his deep brown eyes. The other two appeared to be good friends, given how they stood very close to one another. One had a somewhat dopey, blithe sort of smile on his face, contrasted by blue-gray eyes the color of steel. His hair was a sort of honey-blonde shade, and his body was plump and soft in form. The RSA member who stood a little behind him, as if hiding shyly from the rest of the assembled people, had black hair that matched his dark eyes. His expression was somewhat dour, and a small bandage stretched across the bridge of his nose; another was visible curled around one of his fingers. Along with his gym uniform, he wore a sort of fanciful hood, which resembled the ears of a donkey. “I count six possible Captains here, Ambrose,” sniffed Crowley, somewhat snootily. “Where is your seventh? Or do you intend to volunteer yourself?” “Hardly,” chortled Ambrose, with a jolly smile. “I assure you, my seventh option IS present.” “Oh?” piped up Riddle Rosehearts. “Then where has he gone, sir?” Riddle stiffened as a familiar giggle entered his ear, and he felt a long, fluffy tail suddenly sweep across his front, curling about from somewhere behind him. “Gone?” purred a voice. “I’m not gone. Or then again, purr-haps I AM gone. Yet I’m still here! Curiouser and curiouser, wouldn’t you say?” The tail swept up, tickling Riddle’s nose and making him sneeze. As Riddle staggered in surprise, the tail vanished…then reappeared on a tree branch above everyone’s head. The body of Che’Nya soon apparated into view. Unlike all the other RSA members, he was dressed in his usual clothes, rather than a gym uniform. He was licking the back of one hand, like a cat grooming their paw…but stopped, twitching one pink-furred ear when he saw the looks everyone flashed his way. “Sorryyyyy!” he sang out, teasingly, sticking out his tongue and winking at Riddle, who gave him a flustered glare. “I could NOT resist!”

Some of the RSA members sniggered, while Riddle just grumbled under his breath. Cater shook his head wearily while Deuce rolled his eyes. “You all know him, clearly,” chuckled Ambrose, then gestured to the rest of the students with him. “Not to mention Mr. Satyr and Mr. LeBlanche. As for the rest, allow me to introduce Qiao Zhou, Paisley Burr, and Ivo DePrece. All that’s missing is our Head Monster,” Ambrose observed. “Then we can begin the selection. He IS on his way, isn’t he, Headmage Crowley?” “Of course!” harrumphed the Headmaster of Night Raven, and looked towards Vil. “You did tell him the time to meet us, didn’t you?” “I did,” Vil confirmed. “And Billy rarely disappoints me. Anymore.” “I g-guess that’s good to hear,” Harmonia spoke up. “So, um…in that case, how soon till he-?” He was cut off with a yelp when, suddenly, the earth beneath all their feet seemed to shake. Then it happened again…and again…and again. A sound accompanied each quake: THUMP-A-THUMP-A-THUMP! All of the NRC students smirked. They knew that sound. The RSA students, meanwhile, began to mill about in alarm: Qiao Zhou dropped into a battle-ready pose, holding his staff with a determined glare. Matthew Satyr, similarly, grabbed hold of his dueling rod, which he had brought with him. Paisley blinked and stumbled back a bit, eyes rather wide, while Neige yelped and held onto his hat, letting a startled squeak of “Jiminy Christmas…!” Only Ivo and Che’Nya seemed thoroughly unfazed: the Cheshire Cat was grooming himself and didn’t even appear to notice. Ivo, meanwhile, just gave a dull, almost bored, slow blink as he remained standing behind Paisley. Harmonia seemed the most frightened of all. He knew these were the footsteps of the giant he’d been warned of all his life: the descendant of the nightmare his family had once faced many decades ago. Already, his mind began to conjure up hideous images of what kind of horrendous beast could be approaching. He trembled, and even began to pray silently, as his heart beat quickened with every step…until, finally… CRASH! Two trees were pushed aside, and a mountainous figure stepped into view, looming over all as his shadow fell across them. Gasps of amazement came from the RSA students. Harmonia felt his heart catch in his throat, as he saw a giant pair of boots, covering feet the size of a couple of boats. His eyes trailed upwards, and he saw a truly tremendous body, covered up by the purple-and-green camouflage of a Monster uniform. Wide hips and thighs thicker than any tree trunk transitioned to a belly bigger than anything the Golden Harp had imagined. Muscles could be detected beneath the burly arms’ sheaths of blubber, and a barrel chest rested at the top of the diaphragm. Harmonia felt himself start to whimper, as he continued to look up, up, up…and into the giant’s face… …And at that point, his expression shifted, as he saw round, soft cheeks, a pair of bright, baby-blue eyes, carrot colored hair…and a happy-go-lucky gap-toothed smile. “Hello down there!” the giant called happily. “Sorry I’m late, little friends! Had trouble getting my pants on, heh…anyway, I can’t wait to play with you all! This is gonna be so much fun!” Harmonia gulped nervously. As those sweet, happy words and a surprisingly childish giggle filled the air, all he could think of was one thing. Oh, sweet Gods…he’s adorable.

“Mr. A’Cappella,” Crowley piped up, waving one hand between Harmonia and Billy respectively. “Allow me to introduce Billy Geant: Night Raven’s resident giant, and descendant of the Monster of Happy Valley. Mr. Geant? Meet Mr. A’Cappella.” Billy nodded, and smiled down at A’Cappella brightly. “Hi, Mr. A’Cappella!” he bellowed, and knelt down, holding out a single finger towards him. “Nice to meetcha! You can just call me Billy!” Harmonia froze up as that hand swept down towards him. He paused, looking Billy up and down carefully. The ogre was even larger than he had imagined, and he could practically feel gravity’s draw on his body. He glanced towards the giant’s belly, which sagged low and heavy, spilling over and across the titan’s thigh from its obesity. He shivered a bit, and then held out one comparatively puny hand, and shook the tip of Billy’s fat finger. The skin was warm. Soft. Clean. For some reason, that surprised Harmonia: with the way his family described giants, he’d imagined the the skin to be hard as stone, callused, horribly sweaty, or unpleasantly leathery in texture. He hadn’t expected it to be so…nice. “Th-the feeling’s…mutual,” he said, and smiled a tiny bit. “And, uh…just call me Harmonia, okay?” “Okay, Ammonia!” Snickers suddenly erupted from several people. Vil facepalmed. Harmonia blushed. “N-No, uh…it’s Harmonia.” “...Harmonica?” “Close! Close, um…say it with me slowly, okay? Har-mo-ni-a.” Billy nodded slowly, knitting his brow, focusing REALLY hard as he repeated: “Har-mo-ni-a…Harmonia!” “That’s it!” grinned the harp boy with a giggle. “See? You can do it if you try.” Billy blushed and giggled a bit. “Thanks, uh…H-Harmonia,” he said gratefully. Harmonia smiled wider, as he saw the big behemoth scratch the back of his huge head in embarrassment. He would have been lying if he said that he didn’t feel some trepidation, still, but…the giant didn’t SEEM ill-natured. If anything, he seemed…sweet, and even all that hugeness was starting to seem more cuddly than intensely intimidating. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“Good morning, Housewarden!” Billy cheered, giving a respectful nod to Vil, and then a mock salute to Epel. “And hello, Epel!” “You seem excited this morning,” Epel smiled, somewhat teasingly. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Billy laughed in response. “Don’t expect us to be any less competitive, just because we’re part of the same dorm,” Vil said, warningly, crossing his arms with a smirk. “I expect you to do your best today, Billy. I shall be doing the same.” Billy smirked back. “Oh, trust me,” he said, and licked his lips none-too-subtly. “I’m not going easy on anyone. I promised you all that from the start.” “If the niceties are out of the way,” chuckled the voice of Headmage Ambrose, “I think it’s time we get this game underway. Don’t you, Headmage Crowley?” “Indeed!” boomed Dire Crowley. “So! Mr. Geant, you shall be first: who from this pool…” He tipped his hat in the direction of the RSA team. “...Will you pick for the Monster Captain?” Billy’s giant head swung around on his shoulders. It tilted slightly as he blinked his very large, baby blue eyes at the seven students from Royal Sword. Matthew and Qiao puffed out their chests with pride…then noticed each other, frowned, and tried to nudge one another aside, like a couple of schoolboys vying for attention. Paisley smiled in a dopey, dumb way and gave a little cheery wave (Billy waved back), while Ivo just blinked in a slow, drab way. As for Adam, he gave a smirk and flexed one arm, showing off the firm biceps beneath his gym suit, while Neige gave a friendly smile and a bow. Che’Nya just swirled into view on top of a nearby log. He smirked, rolled his eyes, and yawned, nonchalantly watching a butterfly go by. Billy immediately pointed a finger towards Che’Nya. “This one,” he smiled. “I want him!” Riddle blanched and sucked in air in a sound of shock, startling everyone else. Only Che’Nya and Billy seemed not to notice. The giant was beaming, and the Cheshire Cat looked astonished. “Me-ow?” he responded, pointing to himself, wide-eyed and surprised. “Yuh-huh!” Billy nodded enthusiastically, and looked toward the two headmages. “I want the pink kitty!” “Interesting choice,” murmured Ambrose, sounding intrigued. “Why would you choose Mr. Alchemivich, eh?” questioned Crowley. Billy blinked. He looked between Che’Nya and the Headmages, as if he seriously couldn’t get why they would even ask that question. His response was slow and measured, as if he were explaining to children… “Pink. Kitty. Do I need another reason?”

Harmonia had to bite his knuckle to keep from squealing with laughter. Qiao, Matthew, and Adam all huffed in disappointment, while Paisley, Ivo, and Neige offered congratulations to the Cheshire Cat. Every single student at Night Raven flushed with embarrassment. Several of them seemed to become very interested in their shoes, all of a sudden. Riddle’s expression still bordered on the mortified. “Yes…well…ahem!” coughed Crowley, who seemed equally flummoxed. “A very…unorthodox method, Mr. Geant. We’ll see how it serves your fellow students in the competition.” “Thank you, Headmage…I think,” chuckled Billy, scratching his pink cheek. “Now, Mr. A’Cappella,” Ambrose LXIII spoke up, stroking his white beard. “Would you be so kind as to choose your team captain from the Night Raven side?” Harmonia’s smile faded, and he turned serious. Tossing some of his golden bangs out of his similarly golden eyes, he looked towards the seven NRC members. He had to admit…this wasn’t an easy choice to make. Naturally, he had a bias towards Vil Schoenheit: a celebrity, an entrepreneur, a Housewarden…he had ample credentials. Then again, he knew that Riddle Rosehearts was a Housewarden as well; he’d seen him on television in the Magift competition. Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, and Sebek Zigvolt all seemed strong and hardy; Harmonia got the feeling none of them would be brilliant strategists, but they certainly had physical fitness on their side. And then there was Cater Diamond…who was snapping selfies of himself, winking and sticking out his tongue… …Yeah, Harmonia dismissed him immediately. But that still left six other candidates who could work out well… The golden boy’s eyes finally fell towards Epel. Small. Effeminate. Almost doe-like in appearance, with somewhat untidy lavender hair, and a light sort of voice. A smile painted Harmonia’s face, and he pointed to his choice. “I elect Epel Felmier for the Farmer Team Captain.” The other Night Raven students seemed utterly floored…except for Cater, who laughed and clapped Epel on the back with a cheer of, “WOO-HOO! HashtagCongratulations!” “M-Me?” Epel gasped, seemingly just as surprised. “Why me?” Harmonia shrugged in response, with a gentle sort of smile. “I’ve only known you for a couple of minutes, but I somehow feel the two of us are kindred spirits. Not only that, but you have strength and experiences that I’ve never gotten to enjoy. If I were to be in charge of a team, I’d hope to have a leader like you.” He extended a hand to Felmier. “I have faith that you and your friends will save me.” Epel blushed…but then a confident smile crossed his face. He shook Harmonia’s hand firmly and nodded. “You can count on me.” “I hope so,” chuckled Harmonia. “And so the choices are made!” Ambrose declared, clapping his hands together with a smile. “The game can finally commence!”

“Indeed,” nodded Crowley, and addressed both teams. “Both sides will be led to their respective main camps, where the participating students are gathered. The Head Monster will bring the Golden Harp to the Colosseum. The Captains shall be given fifteen minutes to select their aids and devise a strategy. In exactly a half hour, the hunt for the Golden Harp will begin. Myself and Headmage Ambrose will now lead our students to their headquarters.”

The two Headmages, having announced this, shook hands with each other (Crowley’s smile was extremely forced, Ambrose’s less so), and then marched off, leading their teams away. Epel cast a brief glance back at Harmonia and Billy before hastening off. Harmonia and Billy watched as the rest soon disappeared into the woods. The former gave a nod to Che’Nya, who smiled back and winked, giving a salute before swishing his tail as he swaggered off with the other RSA members. “Bye-bye, little friends!” Billy sang, waving farewell to all of the students…then looked down at Harmonia. Harmonia, in turn, looked up at the giant. They were now completely alone. Just the two of them. The Monster and the Harp. Nervous, anxious, fluttering feelings flitted about in Harmonia’s chest as he suddenly realized his vulnerable state. There were no Headmages, nor even other students, here to try and help. From this point on, his life was quite literally in the hands of the ogre. For a moment, he worried that now would be when the proverbial shoe would drop: when the titan would suddenly go from seemingly sweet and tender to showing his fangs (either literally, figuratively, or both). But instead, Billy just smiled down at him with a happy “little” look on his face, blinking his big blue eyes curiously. “So,” the giant said at last. “Are you ready to go?” “G-Go?” peeped Harmonia, backing up a step. Billy giggled and tossed his head indicatively. “To the Colosseum! That’s where you and I have to stay while I’m guarding you! Part of the game, right?” “Oh! Oh, r-right, um…s-sure, I…I’m ready to go when…when you are-EEP!” Harmonia flinched as a huge hand - larger than his whole body - suddenly swept down again, and stretched palm open before him. He looked between the fat hand and Billy’s face, as Geant smiled in a playful, exuberant way that showed the gap between his teeth. “Come on then!” Billy cheered. “It’s okay, little friend. I won’t hurt you! I’ll be super-duper careful, mega promise!” He crossed his heart with his free hand and added, “Giant’s Honor!” Harmonia nearly retorted that he didn’t know giants HAD honor…but already, he felt that would be a cruel and unjust response. He could tell saying such a thing would have hurt Billy’s feelings, and…well…somehow, he already knew that hurting Billy’s feelings wasn’t something he wanted to do. So - with the caution one might use when trying to defuse a bomb - Harmonia stepped up onto the soft, slightly springy-feeling surface of the giant’s plump palm. He sat down and braced himself as, a moment later, Billy rose back to his full height, carrying Harmonia up, up, up off the ground. The Golden Harp willed himself not to look down, as he could already feel his stomach flip from the change in air pressure and the feeling of gravity shifting beneath him. Billy smiled and cocked his head as he looked at the little one in the palm of his hand. He had to bite his lip to keep from squeeing. “Awww…you’re ADORABLE!” he cooed, unable to hold in his excitement, a blush painting his face, as he lifted his other hand, pointing one finger at Harmonia. “You’re so little, and you have such a cute little outfit…I wish I had a cool golden outfit like that! You look awesome!” Harmonia felt a little breathless as he nudged the finger away, not wanting to be poked, and barely managed to eep out a sincere but somewhat scared, “Th-thank you.” “You’re welcome!” grinned Billy, and cocked his head the other way. The action reminded Harmonia so much of a curious puppy, it was kind of hilarious. “Comfy there, little friend?” “M-More or less…” “Then let’s get moving,” Billy nodded. “Hold on tight, and don’t worry: I won’t let you go.” Under the circumstances, Harmonia felt there was a certain irony to those words…but he decided not to comment on it. Instead, he just sat quietly, as Billy began to march through the woods, his giant footsteps shaking the forest around them as he tromped in the direction of the Colosseum. The games had begun.

To Be Continued in Part Two…

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kaddyssammlung · 5 months

Text

Take Me Back To Eden-

transcript from the Revolver mag Special Edition

I don't own any of this!

In the cold, slow-moving early days of January 2023, something incredible happened, with

no warning. Sleep Token unleashed a new song upon the world that was, at the time, their

most jaw-dropping offering to date. Chokehold begins omniously with a scratching, grinding buzz and Vessel sings declaratively “When we were made, it was no accident, We were tangled up like branches in a flood”. The soft trill of a piano comes in, the suspense builds and then one of the most dramatic riffs the band have committed to record crashes down.It's just the first twist in a dynamic single full of them.

Chokehold struck a crowd with fans and landed Sleep Token cosigns from some unlikely voices. Lorna Shore, frontman and deathcore YouTube star Will Ramos covered the song and then dissected Vessel's vocal technique with a panel of experts. On the Charismatic Voice YouTube channel. Even Wilder was when American Idol star Chris Daughtry surprised a crowd at London's Royal Albert Hall with a dusky acoustic performance of the single. Yet the most remarkable thing about Chokehold is that, for all the fervor it steered, the song Sleep Token released just 24 hours later had even more profound impact on their career. On January 6th, the day after Chokehold's release, the band dropped a second 2023 single called The Summoning. If Chokehold started a fire, this new song poured kerosene on it. A near 7-minute masterpiece, The Summoning took Sleep Token genre blending approach to new extremes, spanning the divide between death metal-esque savagery and slutty funk. Not only did it work socially, but it somehow made beautiful sense conceptually. The song quickly went viral on TikTok, partly because of the stunning contrast between the styles it plays with and also due to its esoterically charged lyrics. Sleep Token had hinted at lustful thoughts in the past, but The Summoning was easily the most overtly sexual song to date. At this point, over half a decade into their career, Sleep Token were hardly unknowns, and the hype around them had been building in the underground alternative metal scene. But the one true punch of Chokehold into the Summoning sent them skyward.

Sleep Token dominated online conversation, trending on Twitter for days on end, and their streaming numbers shot through the roof. Multiple songs trended on Spotify simultaneously, but it was The Summoning that really took off, rocketing to 15 million plays on the platform in less than two months. As of this writing, it tops 18 million Spotify streams. On January 17th, Sleep Token embarked on a sold-out UK headlining tour, playing some of their biggest venues to date, including the 5,000 capacity Hammersmith Apollo in West London. Befitting the band's grounding audience and the launch of their latest chapter, these rituals were notably scaled up in terms of production. Sleep Token performed amid a stage setup, festooned with plants, and vessels started wearing an elaborate shoulder piece emblazoned with gold to protect him from sleep, for some fans have theorized.

Additionally, the trio of female backing singers from 2022's Room Below Ritual were along for the ride. The three women affectionately nicknamed the Vesselettes in some fan circles, performed in cloaks, their faces covered while they stood eerily stuck still. The tour was made even more special by Sleep Token, debuting two brand new songs during their set, the angsty pop metal exercise Granite and the elegant, chest-infused Aqua Regia. The studio versions were released in the middle of the tour, once again dropping within 24 hours of each other on January 18th and 19th. Respectfully, even before Sleep Token's third album was formally announced, fans understood that this sudden wave of new songs heralded an imminent follow-up to This Place Will Become Your Tomb. After the release of the apocalyptically heavy Vore in the middle of February. That speculation became fact, Take me Back to Eden, was announced for a mid-may release and was set to be the final installment of the band's album trilogy. The group's devotees had already been trying to figure out the record's title from the secret code that had appeared on the band's lead-up graphics. On Take Me Back to Eden, the turbulent hot and cold dynamic between Vessel and Sleep reaches its breaking point. His devotion to and lust for Sleep persists, but Vessel recognizes that he is quite literally in a Chokehold within their relationship, even more so than on the band's previous work. His emotions were conflicted enough on this record. On Granite, Vessel rages against Sleep's uncommunicative behavior, even labeling him aggressive and controlling, while on Aqua Regia, despite the song's undercurrent of desire, he affirms that he is done dancing to alarm bells.

By track 9, Do You Wish That You Loved Me he reaches the firm conclusion that not only is Sleep incapable of returning the love he has craved all along, but perhaps Vessel himself cannot muster the same devotion he seeks from the deity. I cannot hope to give you what I cannot give myself.

By the album's closing track, Euclid, the relationship has finally splintered,leaving Vessel feeling reflective but also anxious to move forward knowing that Ijust need to leave this part of me behind.

Once again, every song to Take Me Back to Eden comes with its own visual identity, but the symbology is Sleep token's most complex and detailed to date.

Each song is represented by its own fantastical character, best described as monsters or demons that are illustrated by Alex Tillbrook in the art booklet that comes with physical copies of the record. Some of the creatures appear in music videos' form as well. Each character looks distinct from the others, but they do share some common features. Many have devil-like horns, and the majority have an unusual number of body parts. The character representing Ascensionism has four arms. The one for Rain has three heads, and the creature for Chokehold has numerous arachnid-like legs.

Meanwhile, the character representing War has arms with two venues, flytrap-like mouths in place of hands, echoing the song's motif of consumption and swallowing, and linking to its title's reference to the fetish voraphilia, the erotic desire to consume or to be consumed by another person or creature. In addition, most of the characters hold at least one weapon, and many wear some form of armour. These accoutrements are possible, reflective of the heightened sense of conflict between Wesley and Sleep throughout the album.

The character representing the summoning, who wears a shoulder piece akin to the one

that Vessel wears on stage, clutches a huge gun, almost as big as the creature itself, while others wield axes and other bladed weapons. In two of its four hands, the floating character in a knight's helmet representing Ascensionism holds a handgun and a three-pronged dagger, like a mini version of Poseidon's trident. There are also a few references to weaponry in the lyrics in Chokehold. Wesley reclaims, I come as a blade, a sacred guardian. When in Aqua Regia,he speaks of a perfect start to a perfect war, putting down the roses, picking up the sword.

One compelling fan theory about these characters is that their sleep previous vessels. Others speculate that they could be a physical manifestation of Vessel's personal demons, or even past versions of Vessel himself. Indeed, there are references to the concept of past lives on the album. In Ascensionism, the line, tell me you met me in past lives,suggests Vessel's and Sleep's toxic bond predates this lifetime, or perhaps that's just what Sleep tells Vessel to create, the illusion that their connection is stronger than it really is. The Apparition reinforces the idea, well I believe somewhere in the past, something was between you and I in my dear. If Sleep and Vessel have been entangled for decades or even centuries across different incarnations, it raises the question of what the weapons are for.

Are they for Vessel to use while defending and protecting Sleep, or tools for him to battle the deity as the toxicity between them worsens? The two song-representing characters who've most intrigued fans correspond to the album's final two tracks, both are quite different compared to their armoured, multi-limbed peers. The figure for the pain-mouthed song Take Me Back to Eden, interestingly Sleep Token's only title track to date, has no face but bears angel wings and a scythe. Their juxtaposed element of an angel and a Grim Reaper evoke themes of death, worship,and immortality. All themes that crop up at the end of the album's story defend consensus as that title track concludes Take Me Back to Eden, while the album's actual closer Euclid wraps up the trilogy overall serving as a sort of epilogue. The character representing that song is a masked figure dressed in a toga-like garment holding Vessel's severed head. What does that ominous image mean about the future of Sleep Token? Some fear it's a signal at the end of the band, while others have wondered if it foreshadows the group re-emerging with a new story and a new look perhaps similar to the way Slipknot changed the mask with each album's cycle, or how Ghost kill-off versions of Papa Emeritus to make way for a successor. At the very least, the figure reflects the song's focus on rebirth throughout the death of the old Vessel proclaims I must be someone now. Musically Take Me Back to Eden is Sleep Token's most ambitious body of work to date.

Its sonic rage is considerably greater than This Place where we come here to folding in sounds and genres. The band hadn't touched before. The extremes are also so much more pronounced.

The summoning and Vore are the heaviest songs of their career so far, while a eerie, almost tropical-sounding deary statue of me is Sleep Token at their poppiest. Meanwhile, the colossal Are You Really Okay feels like Sleep Token's taken a arena-sized ballad, though its lyrics are claustrophobic, dark, and hint at self-harm. Since its corresponding character is holding a baby ( Since its corresponding character is holding a baby and the song mentions Vessel being woken up by a loved one dripping crimson on the carpet, some fans have posited that Are You Really Okay is not about self-harm at all, but rather a miscarriage). The most impressive musical feats on the record, however, are Sleep Token's two longest songs to date. The super-sized pair the 7-minute Ascensionism and 8-minute Plus Take Me Back to Eden unify every aspect of Sleep Token's sound, from delicate piano balladery to crushing heavy metal to bursts of trap-infused R&B (Both notably use autotune to add a disembodied quality to vessel's voice.)

Together, the two pieces feel like a culmination of the band's sonic explorations so far, elevating the music into the heady realm of progressive rock while floating with the long-form movement-based structures of classical music. Even as it marks an incredible step forward for the band, both creatively and commercially it landed at number 16 on the Billboard 200 Take Me Back to Eden and occasionally looks back. It's the most self-referential installment of Sleep Token's trilogy, especially towards its conclusion where the nods to previous songs become most overt in particular lines in the opening verse of Take Me Back to Eden.

I dream of phosphorescence, bleed through spaces, and we drive through crystal waters Perfect oceans can be interpreted with callbacks to sundowning in this place will become your tomb, read prospectively. Later, the titled rap evokes the LP's beginning by echoing the opening lines of Chokehold, creating poeticbookends to the album's narrative. Similarly, the entire trilogy concludes looping around to its start with a section of The Night Does Not Belong to God being revived in Euclid, bringing the story full circle. As for Sleep Token's own story, Euclid's image of a vesseldisembodied hit notwithstanding the band's journey continues. At least for now, Take Me Back to Eden has skyrocketed them to previously unimaginable heights. The latest, this anonymous masked band with their eccentric whip, lashing sound, and dizzying mythology have become bona fide arena headliners. They sold out a breakthrough-year-capping December gig at London's12,500-capacity Wembley Arena within just 10 minutes. We know Sleep Token's story will continue in 2024, too. They already have shows booked, including an April run in Australia, an appearance at Las Vegas' sick New World Festival. We want that. What does the future hold?

Might they scale even higher heights? To sleep, to dream.

#sleep token #sleep token worship #sleep token revolver

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brick-a-doodle-do · 1 year

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PLEASE NO PROMPTS WITH THE INTENTION OF HAVING ME WRITE THEM! I WILL SHARE IDEAS BUT NOT WRITE FOR THE TIME BEING!

my turn !!

(nqviiez -> brick-a-doodle-do)

[ my ao3 // taglist request // spotify ]

/// i am brick. a very sentient brick. perhaps an ickadodo even. she/her pronouns with no label on my sexuality (prolly aromantic) !! i also write. a lot. but despite this it is very hard for me to be able to finish a full fic. i have a creative mind and a piss-poor attention span and the two do not mix ,,,,,

dream smp is my bitch. love it. and mix it with some g/t and vore? sprinkle it with angst? my cup of tea! if you don't like any of that, you're still welcome here but just be mindful of my interests! i will also write occasionally for ghoulboys (bfu & watcher), oc stuff (my ocs and others), and albert/flamingo !

pretty fluid with the people that interact with me, but if you are a nsfw-specific account dni as i am a minor :) also basic criteria such as people supporting racism, homophobia, etc., please dni!

also fyi please tag me in things you want me to see! my tumblr notifications are off and usually i only go blog-surfing every once in a while and rely on my dash so i don't get notified for a lot of stuff until quite a bit later! :)

NOW, into the funner stuff! (lots under cut)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

big aus !! (my favorites, in no particular order)

tiny workers ;; tagged #tiny workers au

what is it?: an au set in a size-difference themed theme park, where it explores the interactions between the borrower staff members and the surrounding humans who's in it?: the au focuses around sbi and dtqk most often, but the entirety of the dream smp + other ccs and people are featured! have i written for this?: yes! chapter one, x, x any worldbuilding?: yes! so much! the masterpost is here

wilbur chocolate ;; tagged #wilbur chocolate au

what is it?: an au where tommy, a human, is living in new york for the month on vacation and buys a bag of wilbur chocolates. to his surprise, when he opens it, he finds a tiny wilbur! who's in it?: the au focuses on crimeboys but will eventually introduce emduo! have i written for this?: yes! part 1, part 2, and part 3 any worldbuilding?: masterpost!

vengeance in the night ;; tagged #vengeance in the night au

what is it?: a g/t batman au with h!techno as batman/bruce, t!phil as alfred, g!tommy as robin/dick and a lot more! who's in it?: focuses on emduo + tommy most often, but it branches off to more! have i written for this?: not yet! any worldbuilding?: yes! masterpost

supersecrets ;; tagged #supersecrets au

what is it?: a non-plot heavy crack au where t!tubbo becomes friends with t!ranboo and h!tommy, who live in an air-bnb for people with superpowers who's in it?: focuses on benchtrio + sbi! butcher army + niki and some others are also featured! have i written for this?: nope! any worldbuilding?: some,,,, x

crashed ;; tagged #crashed au

what is it?: an au where as a child, t!ranboo's plane crashed onto an island. luckily, they survived. but they were the only survivor. a decade later, finally, he's met with t!tubbo and t!tommy as they crash their boat into a rock near the island and are also now trapped who's in it?: benchtrio centric! have i written for this?: nope! tis in the works :) any worldbuilding?: x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x

something's brewing ;; tagged #something's brewing au, #curiosity killed the cat

what is it?: an au where an over-curious tommy stumbles into the house of a giant wilbur, who immediately captures him into a jar. who's in it?: crimeboys centric. that will change. have i written for this?: yes! i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi (vore) + voreshot any worldbuilding?: nop!

other aus !!

school floors

pixie dust and mischief

four way street

let me take you out

unnamed horror au

in dreams he came

deliberately accusatory

unnamed crime au

seekers

overprotective tendencies

self sabotage

unnamed terrarium

unnamed botanist au

unnamed flamingo/god au

spy au

unnamed royal au

there beneath

unnamed archeology au

adopted wilbur

company and repairs

connected

a place for me

fics !! (unmentioned ones)

oneshots !

company and repairs i ;; t!tallerduo, g!bedrockbros company and repairs ii ;; t!tallerduo, g!bedrockbros

ghosts are better than humans ;; t!tommy, g!ghostbur ;; a gift

2022 summer exchange ;; t!george, t!karlnapity, g!dream ;; a gift

spy au: unofficial prologue ;; t!george, g!dream ;; ⚠️ vore

i'll run away and hide with you ;; t!tommy, g!phil

never fucking again ;; t!tommy, g!sapnap

oh george~ ;; t!george, g!dream ;; ⚠️ vore

meeting boo ;; t!tubbo, g!ranboo

don't fall ;; t!tommy, g!wilbur ;; not my au/fanfiction of fanfiction

the act of making noise (i) ;; t!tommy, t!techno, g!ranboo, g!wilbur

heavy is the head that gets no sleep ;; t!tommy, g!dream ;; ⚠️ vore

mere monstrosity ;; t!shane, g!ryan

2022 secret santa ;; t!sam, g/mg!dream ;; a gift

hush ;; sizeshifter!tommy, g!wilbur, implied g!phil

still the wild winds blow ;; t!tommy, g!wilbur ;; ⚠️ vore

we will abide ;; t!karlity, g!sapnap ;; ⚠️ vore

feeble disguise ;; t!clingyduo, g!ranboo ;; ⚠️ vore

would you be so kind? ;; t!tommy, g!ghostbur

joy ride ;; t!wilbur, g!quackity, g!schlatt

off switch ;; t!tommy, g!wilbur ;; not my au!

april prompt ;; t!tommy, no defined g!

shroud, you...savior? ;; t!wilbur, g!tommy ;; rewritten/updated fic

close the windows, lock the doors ;; t!ghostboo, g!tubbo

you live life above me ;; t!sapnap, g!dream ;; short prompt series!

blinded by imperfect form ;; t!tommy, g!techno ;; short prompts series!

i'll be unclean, i'll be obscene ;; t!tommy, g!wilbur ;; short prompt series!

don't talk so much ;; t!tommy, g!wilbur ;; short prompt series! ;; tiny workers au

days of which you can't make me hate ;; t!tommy, g!wilbur ;; tiny workers au

but the smoke clears when you're around ;; t!techno, g!dream

the feeling comes so quickly ;; t!ranboo, g!techno, (brief) g!wilbur

my fingers pressed until they're sore ;; t!dream, g!sapnap ;; short prompt series!

and though it's no improvement ;; t!tommy, g!wilbur ;; ⚠️ vore

agony drips from me ;; t!micheal, t!tubbo, g!ranboo ;; ⚠️ vore

digestion ;; t!george, g!dream ;; short prompt series

every day's a test ;; t!tommy, g!wilbur ;; short prompt series/april prompts

you're stuck in the web ;; t!tommy, g!wilbur ;; ⚠️ vore

submitted through other blogs !

shroud, you...savior? ;; t!wilbur, g!tommy

the little things: written ;; t!tommy, g!wilbur ;; not my au

unnamed ;; t!karl, g!sapnap ;; ⚠️ vore

unnamed ;; t!tubbo, g!ranboo ;; ⚠️ vore

other stuff !!

my art !

tightrope ;; t!wilbur, no defined g!

hamster wheel ;; t!wilbur, implied g!tommy

au hint ;; implied t!george, implied g!dream ;; barely art

paperclips from 1970 doodle ;; t!george, implied g!dream

more pf1970 doodles ;; t!george, implied g!dream

tw!tommy doodle ;; t!tommy

tinies & fruit ;; t!tommy, t!quackity, t!wilbur, implied g!tommy

fic scene ;; t!tommy, implied g!wilbur ;; fic link

broodles ;; implied t!ranboo, unmentioned t!tommy and g!wilbur, personal lore implied g!quackity and t!wilbur

irza attempt ;; not my au!

hittin' a jig ;; t!tommy, implied g!wilbur

sleeping (they hate each other) ;; t!tommy, g!techno

unwilling prey + nomf ;; t!techno, g!dream ;; ⚠️ implied/eventual vore

grabbing ;; t!dream, implied g!wilbur

homemade sweaters ;; t!quackity, t!niki, t!sapnap, t!george, t!ponk, t!tommy, t!sam, t!wilbur, g!dream

logsted painting

fanart ! (if i am missing any PLEASE tell me pspspsps)

company and repairs scene ;; t!tallerduo, g!bedrockbros ;; (@.oh-i-need-a-name)

curiositybur ;; t!wilbur, implied g!tommy ;; (@.local-squishmallow)

fic-turned-comic ;; t!karl, g!sapnap ;; ⚠️ vore ;; (@.local-squishmallow)

close the windows fanart ;; t!ghostboo, g!tubbo ;; (@.justarandomsloth)

more ctwltd fanart ;; t!ghostboo, g!tubbo ;; (@.justarandomsloth)

tiny workers fanart ;; t!tommy, no defined g! (@.justarandomsloth)

c!brick fanart ;; (@.da3dm) ;; + additional accessory

more c!brick fanart ;; (@.beckyu)

pixie dust and mischief fanart ;; t!tommy (@.smiles-for-anon)

my secret santa 2023! ;; g!wilbur, t!tommy (x-monochrome-x)

—–—

,,,,,,,, i also have a family. i remember puzzle (parent), becky (sister? mother i see on weekends?), 3d and orchid (niblings) but i lost track of everyone else. bear with me </3

have a brick for making it to the bottom 🧱

and let's have a memorial for my other two masterposts that i both rage-deleted :D

#masterpost #mw #mcyt g/t #dsmp g/t #dream smp g/t

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toast-tales · 11 months

Text

I Lava You, Chapter 2: Addiction Enabled

Read Chapter 1 here!

Cover art by @luckyshotwrites!

This short story takes place after P39 of ITWOM and as such, contains minor spoilers for ITWOM - read at your own risk! You do NOT need to have read WIDFALI to enjoy this story!

This story is cowritten with the amazing, fantastic @luckyshotwrites and uses the minor character June from their ongoing vore story What I'd Do For A Livable Income. It's chock full of monsters, magic, goofs, and absolutely fantastic worldbuilding and characters. Give it a shot if you haven't yet!

Contains: references to g/t soft, safe vore and language. About 1300 words.

Chapter 2: Addiction Enabled

Even if this had secretly been their plan all along, June hadn’t intended it to go like this. They’d been planning on pacing themselves—maybe a few sips, and then wait a bit more before having more later.

He had no choice but to absorb it all into his body and quickly climb back out. He was about fifteen feet tall now, maybe taller. In a hurry now, he screwed the cap back on.

He could feel the soft vibrations across the surface of the shelf, telling him that Sam was getting closer. He forced his body to assimilate the lava lamp liquid and convert it to energy, without being able to enjoy its glow.

Suddenly, Sam came back into the room, and he had to stop the energy transfer. He still looked human, of course, just…taller by about two feet now.

He hoped Sam wouldn’t notice.

“A-ah—you’re back, Sam! My friend!" His lip quivered. He felt bad for emptying the pretty glowing lamp so fast. “That sure looks tasty, wh-what did you make?”

Sam had their mouth open to take a bite of their ramen when they stopped and blinked, their eyes drawn first to the human, then to the lava-less lava lamp behind them. Then they blinked again.

I’m not even high yet. Right? Maybe I was supposed to cook that egg after all.

“H-hey little buddy.” They walked over to the shelf like they were in a daze, staring at the empty lamp with a mesmerized, empty sort of look as they contemplated the stability of their mental faculties. “You didn’t. Um. See what happened here, did you?”

It didn’t leak out, it would be everywhere. It’s completely empty. Am I going crazy?

June couldn’t make eye contact with Sam. “Uh-um—” I didn’t expect Sam to ask me! He tried to come up with a plausible excuse.

“Well—I—” June looked at the empty, incriminating container next to him. What should I say? Humans don’t normally eat that.

June lowered his head and tugged at the shirt of his uniform. “I’m sorry, I-I thought it was really pretty and drank some…all of it. I—” June looked up sincerely, “I didn’t mean to, I only meant to drink a little bit!” He walked up to the edge of the shelf and pitched his offer, “I will buy you a new one!” He knew he shouldn't have admitted to drinking it and risk exposing himself as anything but human—but he couldn’t lie to Sam. He didn’t want to be mean.

Sam’s eyes widened in shock. They weren’t exactly versed in taking care of humans—that was the kind of thing they left up to dealers. Christopher, mostly. But they were at least fairly sure that humans weren’t supposed to be able to eat whatever the hell was in lava lamps. Probably.

Then again, they’d never seen what humans eat.

They stared at June with a look that was as dumbstruck as it was in awe of this human’s abilities, a grin creeping up onto their face despite their initial confusion. “Holy shit. I didn’t know humans could do that. You drank the whole thing? THAT’S BONKERS.” They laughed, poking at the human a little as if they expected it to burst. “How’d you do it? You’re like. So tiny still.”

Wait, wait. Um. Is this human safe to eat now? Should I call Chris and ask? …nah, he’d probably yell at me or something. Or tell me to give him the human.

June prepared himself for some well deserved yelling. He should not have eaten a glowy thing in front of a human, giant or not. He should have asked Sam first.

Lucky for him, Sam didn’t look mad.

June released a soft sigh of relief and smiled back at Sam, especially after they poked him. It seemed the giant hadn’t recognized June was a little puffier and taller than before. Nice! I still look human.

“Yeah! Humans can do that! Mhm!” June said, nodding fervently. “And I have a fast…metabolism, that’s why!” Yes, some humans have that. That’s believable.

Sam was far too trusting for their own good, which was a dangerous combination with their stunning lack of human knowledge. Humans are fucking CRAZY. I HAVE to ask Chris about this later.

“I have got to see you do that again. Shit, I’ll go to town tomorrow and get another one. What else do you eat?”

June blinked a few times. Wait. Okay! Hold on. They didn’t freak out? And THEY SAID THEY WANT TO SEE ME EAT MORE?

June hopped around dangerously close to the edge of the shelf with glee. Thankfully, he kept his balance enough not to fall.

“I eat…well, I’m not very picky. My taste buds don’t work the same as—” he cut himself off and hummed, nearly blowing his cover. “As most people’s do. They were like this since I was born so—I uh, can’t taste things super well like normal humans, humans like me,” he chuckled. Be careful June! Remember, Sam’s a giant human, I can’t say anything too incriminating. I’m a human! I’m a human!

He tried to quickly switch the topic. “When you go to get a new one, take me with you and I will pay for it!” June said. He imagined seeing another lovely-colored one. I can resist the temptation. June told himself. He couldn't buy Sam a new one just to eat it instantly.

He tipped toward the edge again, squinting to look at Sam's noodles. The thoughts of the radioactive glow of the lava lamp filled his mind. What if they're illuminated noodles?

Sam’s mind was on lava lamps, and they were still staring at the empty one. They did not notice June teetering inches away from a very long fall.

“You’ve got money, little dude?” Their head cocked in confusion at June mentioning “paying” for it. They weren’t sure where a human would get money. Or where they’d carry it, even. But Sam was broke, and they’d take an offer of financial assistance where they could. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.

Since their hunger had ebbed, it was easier to talk to the human without getting the urge to stuff it in their mouth. And Sam was fascinated with this human now…perhaps even more so than they were wanting to eat them. For now.

June nodded. “Oh yeah, I have a lot of money with my current job.” He tapped at his uniform, though he realized he wasn’t wearing his hat anymore.

“I have enough to buy you…two lava lamps!” He said two with seemingly unwarranted gusto. How much would a magnificent object like that cost? The next thought struck him like a Honda Civic—how many varieties of lava lamps are there?!? He puffed up his cheeks. No, June, don't distract yourself. Lava lamps are for Sam, not me. He punctuated that internal monologue with a firm nod.

“Humans have jobs?” Sam muttered out loud. I mean…huh. I guess Chris mentioned some sort of human city, didn’t he?

Sam puzzled over this question of theirs. “Do you make human money, or…giant money?”

Of course June would say human money, but what was the difference between human and giant human money? He was still oblivious to the fact that Sam was in no way human.

“Human…money?” June replied, tilting his head up. “Is there a difference? Or…oh! Did I somehow end up in a different country?" There was a pause. What country do I live in again? "Is this the…United States?”

Sam stared back at the human, unblinking and now thoroughly confused. “The united what?”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 3 ->

Uh-oh! Will things clear up from here? Or will there be another series of increasingly improbable misconceptions? Only time will tell.

Thank you for reading!

#i lava you #widfalitwom #widfali #itwom #oc sam #widfali june #gt vore #g/t vore #g/t vore story #safe vore #sfw vore #nonsexual vore #vore writing #vore stories

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voraciousvore · 3 months

Text

Giganterra (Chapter 1)

Prologue | Chapter 2

Content Warning: Soft, safe, unwilling vore

Word Count: 2.1k

------ Chapter 1: A Typical Royal Dinner ------

Six years later…

Crown Prince Ronny, the adult heir to the throne, sat down at his usual spot at the table, on the right-hand side of his father, the king. King Richard claimed his rightful place at the head of the table, and Princess Bianca, the youngest by about two years, sat across from her brother Ronny. The king’s personal guard Ajax, his shadow, stood discreetly off to the side behind his seat, ever watchful.

Ronny, dour as always, glared at his sister, who stuck her tongue out at him in response. He scoffed superciliously and removed his gloves for dinner, folding them neatly on the table. He was rescued from having to converse with his loathsome family members by the servants, who came in balancing plates loaded with vittles. Ronny sat in a gloomy silence as Chester, the royal food taster, checked each entrée for poison. He curled his lip with mild disgust when he was given his portion: prime rib, sautéed swiss chard, and scalloped potatoes, with a human dressed in a light sauce.

Bianca had a similar reaction, poking and prodding the tiny woman on her plate with her fork. The woman winced, but stayed silent and didn’t try to run, knowing the consequences of resisting giant royalty would be far more gruesome. “Daddy, when are we going to get more humans? It’s been a while since the last tribute.”

King Richard wiped his lips daintily with a napkin as he gleefully swallowed the human on his own plate. “Hmmm… it’s been a while, hasn’t it? We are certainly overdue for some fresh meat.”

The giantess princess perked up. “If so, can you order some little men this time? Pleeeeeease? Ladies are fine and all, but they’re all we ever get, and I want a handsome boy to play with…” She pouted, scraping her fork with an obnoxious screech on her dish. Her human repast covered her ears and grimaced. Ronny rolled his eyes.

The king gave his daughter a knowing smirk and chuckled lightly. “I’ll see what I can arrange, my darling.” He picked up his knife and cut into his meat, which leaked blood onto his plate.

Ronny shook his head and dug into his own meal, flicking the human carelessly off his slab of prime rib. He didn’t understand his father’s obsession with tiny maidens, or his sister’s fascination with miniature men. Why couldn’t she be normal for once and content herself with an attractive giant instead? Humans were fine for eating, when he was in the right mood, but otherwise Ronny found them to be gross vermin, clambering around with their wiry legs like bugs. Distracted by his thoughts, he failed to notice his tiny female side dish had crawled off the edge of his plate. He put a bite of meat in his mouth, and his face puckered with detestation.

“Ugh!” he groaned, spitting the offending meat back onto his dish without concern for decorum. “Nasty!” His face turned purple with rage. “Bring me the royal chef!” he bellowed. The servants scrambled to obey. Soon enough, the obese chef rushed into the dining room, huffing and puffing with the effort.

“Yes, Your Highness? How may I best serve you?” he asked nervously, wringing his hands and picking at his blond mustache. He was sweating profusely, his skin ruddy with exertion.

“Bucky!” Ronny roared. “This food isn’t fit to serve to a dog! The meat is cold in the middle and saltier than the sea! Dumping a mountain of salt on such a bland cut doesn’t improve the flavor, you cretin! I’m a prince, and I deserve only the best, not this offensive rubbish!”

His temper flared as he got worked up into a frenzy. He stood up out of his chair and gesticulated with his hands aggressively. “You’re a sorry excuse for a cook, you worthless piece of shit! Just look at these vegetables! Wilted strings reeking of too much garlic and swimming in watery juices! And these potatoes! Unpalatable texture, lumpy and uneven, tasteless paste! Unacceptable, reprehensible slop!”

He picked up the plate and hurled it against the wall with all his might, shattering the porcelain and staining the wall and expensive carpeting with juices. The servants hurried forward to clean up the mess in a hush. Nobody was especially surprised by his tantrum: The servants were accustomed to unhinged outbursts from the royal family. Ronny ignored them and continued to verbally berate the chef, who pointedly stared at his feet. Ronny shoved his finger into his fat chest as he ranted in his face, spitting and swearing. After several minutes of screaming at the top of his lungs and frothing at the mouth, Ronny finally cooled down, dismissing the silent chef with a contemptuous wave of his hand. His face changed from pink back to its usual pasty shade. He crossed his arms petulantly and slumped in his chair.

“Good job, Ronny,” King Richard praised, grinning wide. “Sometimes you need to put the commoners in their place and make them fear you.” He chomped down on a bite of meat, clearly enjoying his meal despite his son’s scathing condemnation of its quality. Ronny shrugged, still scowling. The servants, so inferior to the royals as to be invisible to them, cleaned up his mess in the background.

Bianca was unperturbed by Ronny venting his spleen, continuing to toy with the human on her plate as she ate the food around her. Eventually, she got bored and lifted the poor woman up by her leg, studying her wriggling with a cold inquisitiveness. She lowered the tiny woman headfirst into her mouth, licking her face and closing her plump lips around her torso before slurping her flailing legs inside with the rest of her body. She sucked on the delicious morsel for a while, shuffling her from one cheek to the other, before sending her off on a trip to her stomach with a hearty gulp.

She watched as the servants flitted anxiously back to the table, bringing with them a sumptuous feast of roasted partridge and yams for the picky prince. He sulked as the royal food taster sampled each portion and cleared the food for consumption. The servants backed away, sweating nervously as Ronny tasted the partridge. The bratty prince raised an eyebrow and grunted, but didn’t complain. The tension dissipated among the servants and they disappeared into the background again, relieved not to be on the receiving end of another explosive fit.

“Hey, Ronny, what happened to the human in your food?” Bianca queried.

Ronny shrugged as he continued to shovel food into his mouth. “Fuck if I know. She probably ended up as a red stain on the wall.”

King Richard frowned. “What a waste.” He gave Ronny a stern look. The aura in the room subtly changed, as if the air itself chilled. “Don’t squash your humans so carelessly, Ronny. They are valuable, and we can only extract so many without them revolting against us.”

Ronny stiffened. “Of course, Father,” he mumbled, casting his eyes downward. “I won’t do it again.” The king assumed a milder expression, accepting his words, and the mood lightened again. Ronny repressed a shudder.

“I never understood why you don’t just conquer the human kingdom, enslave the populace, and farm them,” Bianca remarked, tilting her head. “Wouldn’t that make more sense? Then you can have as many as you want.”

The king sighed and shook his head. “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. Haven’t you noticed the humans that are here for a long time tend to lose their unique flavor and vitality? That’s because, if they’re not fed and cared for well, and they grow sad, they become frailer, weaker, and less appealing to the palate. That’s why over time we need fresh tributes, and why I usually dispose of them, when they are no longer of any use to us for our personal pleasure.”

He licked his lips as he finished the last bite of his dinner. “I prefer my humans to be free-range, so to speak, and of high quality. That standard of health isn’t possible if they were all forcibly imprisoned. Happy humans also multiply in greater numbers, which is even better for us. Let them have their silly little kingdom, go about their lives, and exist in blissful ‘freedom.’ As long as they give us our rightful share and don’t complain, I will be content.”

He inserted his fingers into his pocket and pulled out a small, trembling woman. “Of course, as you know, not all humans go stale! I still have my favorites, like my cute sweet little Millie, now don’t I?” He grinned roguishly and nuzzled her with his nose.

“Y-yes, of course, Your Majesty! I would never want to disappoint you!” the poor creature squeaked, out of fright rather than affection. Ronny looked away, repulsed by the display. He hated his father’s distasteful perversions and could hardly stand to watch. Bianca stared at him with jealousy, wishing she had a tiny man to kiss and pet and play with. King Richard always exclusively requested maidens as tribute, and she was fed up with his selfishness. She was used to always getting what she wanted, so the fact that she couldn’t have one irritated her to no end.

The servants cleared the dirty dishes off the table and brought slices of cheesecake for dessert. King Richard removed a small vial from his pocket full of a glowing blue potion and dripped a drop onto Millie’s head. Her face paled with dread as her body absorbed the substance, a magical anti-digestion fluid that would keep her unharmed inside his stomach. He pressed her into the soft dessert with his index finger up to her shoulders. She turned her head away from him, and Ronny spotted quiet tears glistening on her cheeks. The prince switched his attention to his own dessert and ate in silence, ignoring the display.

King Richard scooped up Millie with his fork and licked the sweet filling off her body, chuckling at her small whines of discomfort. He gently enveloped her in his mouth, humming with delight. After slopping his tongue all over her and sliding her against the inner walls of his teeth, he took another bite of cheesecake and rolled her around with it, sucking it all up with pleasure. He continued in this manner until he finished his entire slice before finally gulping down the small lady.

Ronny hastened to excuse himself from the table, grabbing up his gloves. As he lifted them, he noticed an abnormal weight inside, caused by a small, shivering lump. He flipped the glove and dumped its mystery contents out on the table, only to discover the food human that he thought he’d thrown across the room was hidden inside. She tumbled out and landed on the hard surface with a splattering of sauce.

Ronny glared at her, then at his fancy gloves, soiled inside with sauce. “Ugh! Look what you did, you filthy little rat! These gloves are ruined!” He flung the gloves away, his dark eyes flashing as his white-hot wrath returned with a vengeance. The woman’s eyes widened and she cowered before the giant man looming above her like a mountain. She had already narrowly escaped death when he smashed his dinner plate against the wall; she knew what he was capable of with his volatile temper.

The giant prince slammed his fist on the table next to her, startling her to her feet. Even standing up, she was shorter than his stacked fingers; he could easily crush her in his grasp like an insect. Her legs turned into useless rubber beneath her as she comprehended the futility of resisting and collapsed to the table. Ronny unclenched his fist and grabbed her up, raising her close to his face.

“Vile, foul worm,” he grumbled as she whimpered helplessly in his hand. “I’ll make you pay for that.” He knew humans hated to be eaten, so he shoved her into his mouth and swallowed her hard, sending her straight to the fleshy prison in his midsection. King Richard grinned with approval as he observed his son. Ronny stormed off in a huff, stomping on his gloves and kicking them to the side on his way out.

He clomped down one of the many stony corridors of the castle, fuming with irritation. He could feel the human fighting inside his gut as she was jostled about by his rapid steps. That idiotic human deserved her punishment. Those gloves were custom-made, based on the measurements of his hands, and now he’d have to order a new pair from the royal tailor. Such an inconvenience!

Chapter 2

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