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pecanpiegut · 3 days
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The urge to write a crossover between Hired Help and Changes Unwanted is strong within me
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pecanpiegut · 3 days
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I love The Dr/agon Pr/ince with all my fucking heart but until the last season I didn't have the "make it depraved" brain rot---- and now all I can think of is that last ep prison scene and everything is the same except A/aravos is pregnant when he says "our child" to V/iren------
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pecanpiegut · 4 days
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I firmly believe that being able to both somewhat write and somewhat draw is the greatest curse that could be bestowed upon someone. I just. Make dudes in my head. All the time. I literally didn't even go to the grocery store this weekend, didn't step outside ONCE bc I was too busy making little chubby dudes kiss-------
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pecanpiegut · 4 days
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Pathetically Self-conscious Losers (SSBHM)
Themes: mutual self-consciousness, omegaverse but no mpreg mentioned 
Words: 2815
Part: 1/1
Jamal swallowed heavily, instinctively sucking in his gut. He checked the address on the website again. The building number checked out, but there was nothing on the door to indicate this was what he was looking for. Uncertain, he looked around. There was an omega sitting on a shaded bench nearby. With a resigned sigh, Jamal approached him. 
“Um, hi, excuse me?”
The man startled, glancing up at him and then quickly hiding behind his mop of black hair. 
“Y-yes?” 
“Are you waiting for the Speed Dating event as well? I’ve got the address here but I think I might be at the wrong spot.” 
“Oh, no, no…” The man shook his head vehemently “I could never do that. I’m just people-watching.” 
“What do you mean?” Jamal asked, feeling like this conversation was getting out of control already; this is why he hated talking to people!
“It’s nothing creepy!” The omega hastened to say, almost shoving a thick sketchpad in Jamal’s face “I draw c-comics… I mean, never mind, I’m sorry, I don’t know where your event is.” 
“Can I sit down?” Jamal asked, against his better judgement. 
The omega stiffened for a moment, but eventually nodded hesitantly, still hiding behind his cloud of hair. Jamal sat down, forcing himself not to grunt as his gut immediately strained against his shirt and his belt mercilessly dug into his underbelly. As casually as he could, he leaned back, spreading his thick legs slightly, to make room between them for his overhang. He saw the omega glance at his body but quickly looked away in embarrassment. Of course. Jamal was glad the omega was not looking at him anymore because he was sure his forehead was already coated with sweat. 
“Are those your drawings…?” He asked, unsure why when the omega was so clearly not interested in him. 
“Mhm,” He nodded, placing the book in his lap. His hand hovered over the cover for a moment before he flipped it open. 
The pages were dense with all kinds of drawings, mostly of people and an occasional animal. They were done in an exaggerated, confident style with so much expression it honestly surprised Jamal. 
“Wow, these are fantastic! You’re so good!” He exclaimed, genuinely impressed. 
The omega finally looked at him from behind his curly mane. He smiled and Jamal glimpsed a wide flat nose, large lips and cheeks with a heavy spattering of angry acne. 
“T-thanks, it’s not much…” 
“I mean it, they’re really good. You’re very talented.”
The omega went to brush his hair away from his face but seemed to suddenly remember himself and dropped his hand.
“Why are you hiding behind your hair?” Jamal asked, not sure what on Earth possessed him to say that. 
“I don’t like people looking at my face…”
“Because of the acne?” Again, what the fuck was going on with him, why was he suddenly Mr. Direct? And if his brain chose that day to rid him of his crippling self-doubt, couldn’t it have waited for the Speed Dating event at least? 
The omega nodded.
“It’s ugly…”
“It’s not ugly.” Jamal said with conviction “It’s just skin, nobody has perfect skin.” 
“Most people have better skin than me though…” 
“It’s not ugly,” Jamal repeated. 
The omega looked at him again. He had very large, brown eyes and arched eyebrows. Jamal had to admit, the acne was severe, but it didn’t make him any less pretty. 
“I’m Omari.” The omega said. 
“Jamal,” Jamal said, praying to whoever would listen that he wasn’t sweating as much as he thought he was “Ironically enough,” he added with an awkward chuckle. 
“What? What do you mean?”
“Jamal means handsome in Arabic.” He explained “I was adopted, but my white mother, bless her heart, didn’t want to erase my heritage and kept it. If I’m honest I wished she gave me some generic white name like Logan or something.”
“I think it suits you,” Omari said shyly.
Jamal looked away, his face hot. His flirting was one thing, but someone flirting back? That has never happened to him in his life. Suddenly, he had the urge to run away, but his fat ass didn’t stand a chance. 
Before he could come up with something to say, Omari spoke again.
“I think your event is starting.” he pointed to the building. Jamal followed his finger and sure enough, a steady line of pampered omegas and alphas in suits was pouring into the building. 
“Yeah, seems like it.”
“You should go, or you will be late.” 
“Or I could sit here and people-watch with you?” Who was he? Was he actually flirting with an omega he just met randomly out in public? 
“But you paid for it?” 
“Yeah, but it’s pointless.” He waved it off “Omegas are never interested in me anyway. I mean, obviously…”
“Why not? You’re handsome.” Omari said with the same firmness with which Jamal just told him acne didn’t matter. Were they actually flirting or were they just two self-conscious losers trying to make each other feel better? 
“I’m barely 5’10 and 500 lb.” He pointed out, staring at the massive gut hanging between his legs. 
“What does that have to do with you being handsome?”
“I supposed the same thing your acne has to do with you being pretty.” 
Oh, dear Lord, they were both. They were pathetically self-conscious losers who WERE flirting. 
“So,” Jamal said after a moment of awkward silence “Teach me to people-watch.” 
Omari chuckled, breaking the awkward spell. 
Somehow, an hour later, Jamal waddled to his car with an omega’s phone number in his pocket and without even going into the Speed Dating event. 
Could it be, were things finally coming up Jamal?
*
Things were not coming up Jamal. He was trying to find something flattering to wear for his date, but everything he owned made him look like a hog trying to stuff itself into human clothes. When he managed to somewhat contain his enormous belly his love handles would pop out, if he managed to cover them, his ass would stick out ten times more than it usually did. There was a shirt that looked good both around his belly and love handles, it even went well with the only pair of pants that wasn’t obscenely tight around his massive ass, but it, in turn, made his breasts look enormous and showed off his back rolls. 
He gave up with a dramatic sigh, flopping down onto the bed like a beached whale and pulled out his phone. 
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Jamal.”
“Are you cancelling the date…?” Omari sounded as if that was exactly what he was expecting.
“What? No, of course not! I was just wondering if maybe instead of a dinner we could go to a movie?”
“Oh yes, please.”
Jamal laughed. 
“You sound relieved.”
“I really don’t like restaurants… Too many lights…”
“I’m not a fan of the dress code myself.”
“A movie sounds perfect.” 
“Alright, I’ll check what’s playing and text you.”
He hung up and couldn’t help a relieved sigh. Sitting in the dark for two hours without Omari getting any chance to look at his huge body? Score. 
*
When they arrived at the cinema, everything seemed perfectly fine. Jamal was hiding in his baggiest clothes and Omari was basically a head of hair without a face. The spirits were high.
“It’s been ages since I’ve seen an Indiana Jones movie,” Omari said. He was almost the same height as Jamal. As if the fact he couldn’t wear anything but a 7XL hoodie didn’t make him self-conscious enough, he also had to find the tallest Omega in America. 
“I don’t even know which one was the previous one” he mused.
The head of hair made a humming sound. 
“I don’t know either.”
Jamal laughed but didn’t manage to reply as they were the next ones up to be served. 
“Hello, two for Indiana Jones, please.”
“I’m sorry” The Beta said and her sour smile told Jamal she was the furthest thing from sorry. “There is a weight limit of 350 lb on the theatre seats.”
Jamal finally understood what it meant when people claimed their souls left their bodies.
“He’s 350 lb,” Omari said firmly. 
The cashier turned her disgustingly fake smile on him. 
“No, he’s not.” She said slowly, her smile turning even more fake. “I’m so sorry!” 
“You could’ve told us sooner, you saw us waiting,” Omari said. “Come on” He grabbed Jamal’s hand and pulled him away. Jamal was thankful because he doubted his body could move out of its own volition. 
As they were passing the queue, he heard snickers and someone shouting “fatass!” very obviously as he passed. He was sure that if his soul left his body already, it would have now left the planet entirely. 
They left the cinema and began walking down the street in silence. They passed a brightly coloured Ice Cream parlour and Jamal stopped, gazing through the glass longingly. 
“Oh, I could do with an ice cream cone, or three.” he let out a sigh “But I shouldn’t.” 
“Neither should I” 
“What? Why?” He asked, looking at Omari’s lean, delicate body. 
“Flares up my acne.”
“Oh.” Jamal looked at the display cases inside for a moment longer “It’s worth it.” He said firmly. 
Omari laughed. He was still holding Jamal’s hand and he now pulled him into the Ice Cream parlour. 
Minutes later they were sitting in a booth waiting, having ordered at the counter. 
“Isn’t the table digging into your belly?” Omari asked, cocking his head. 
Jamal looked away, mortified. 
“Yeah, but I don't think the chairs at the tables are sturdy enough to hold me up.” He admitted. But it was fine, his soul had already left his body a long time ago, and it couldn’t get any more humiliating. 
Omari, for some unfathomable reason, dove under the table. When he emerged Jamal glimpsed one eye and a piece of mouth behind the mass of hair. 
“It’s not bolted down! Just push it, I’m gonna pull it.” 
Jamal wanted to protest, but the truth was, that he could barely breathe. With a nod, he pushed. Omari pulled the table towards himself and soon, although it was still a tight squeeze, Jamal could breathe. 
“Thanks,” He said, meaning it. 
“No problem” Omari’s warm fingers gently touched his. “I’m sorry about the theatre…”
“Nope, I’m repressing that,” Jamal said firmly.
“Alright, I respect that.” Omari nodded.
The waitress arrived, placing two Sundaes on the table. Omari’s was pretty with one blue scoop, one pink and one purple, with a swirl of whipped cream and a blueberry syrup drizzle. 
“Forest fruits?” Jamal guessed.
“Wow, you really know your ice cream!” 
“I really, really do.” He said with an embarrassed chuckle, patting his enormous gut. 
It didn’t escape Jamal’s notice his Sundae was almost twice as large as Omari’s.
“What’s yours?” Omari asked, taking to the tippy-top of the whipped cream swirl with his spoon and popping his into his mouth. It was adorable. 
“Chocolate, salted caramel, hazelnut, cookies and cream, I believe that one is just called “Twix”, we have caramel…”
“You already said caramel.”
“Oh no, no. For you see, this one is salted caramel, this one is unsalted caramel.” 
Omari laughed. 
“There’s peanut butter here, a classic vanilla here…” 
“Peanut butter? I didn’t know they made ice cream like that.” Omari’s eye emerged from behind the hair again to peer at Jamal’s ice cream.
“Have a taste!” He offered immediately, diving expertly in, to scoop a spoonful of the specific flavour. Without thinking he outstretched the spoon to Omari. After a moment’s hesitation, the omega pulled his hair a little to the side to take Jamal’s spoon into his mouth.
“Ooooh!” Omari’s face lit up in excitement. “It’s so good!”
Jamal laughed. “I’m glad I could teach you something useful today.” 
Omari smiled shyly and went to pull his hair over his face. 
“Please don’t.”
One eye peered at Jamal questioningly, hand still poised halfway to his face.
“I’m super flared up right now…” Omari said weakly. It was true, his cheek was dark with inflamed cysts and zits. 
“It’s okay, Omari.” He reached over the table. “Please don’t hide. I want to see your face.”
“But…”
“I want to see my date’s face.” Jamal insisted with a gentle smile, but Omari still looked terrified. “How about this, what if you just uncover your face on this side, facing the wall? Nobody will see except for me.” 
With a tiny sight, Omari pushed his hair back, revealing the right side of his face fully. The acne spread his entire cheek and went up to his temple. It really was bad, he could understand why Omari was self-conscious, but at the same time… He didn’t give a fuck about it. He couldn’t even if he tried. 
Omari peered at him anxiously, as if expecting Jamal would spit in his face. 
“Listen, I know you won’t believe me, but I’m gonna say it anyway. Your acne doesn’t make you any less pretty. Now, eat your ice cream, before it melts.” 
Omari said nothing, just took his spoon back up and scooped another spoonful of whipped cream into his mouth. 
“I went on a Tinder date once” Omari said and Jamal couldn’t understand how someone could look so defeated while eating a gorgeous Sundae. Wow, he really was a fucking fatass, wasn’t he? “He saw my face and literally walked out.” 
“Well, you’re in luck” Jamal said lightly “I’m not walking out of here until this Sundae is completely gone. And I’m pretty sure you’ll have to help me wedge out of this booth anyway. You should’ve gone on a date with a fatass sooner” 
Omari laughed weakly. 
“Hey, Jamal… You don’t have to joke about your body, you know that, right?”
“What?” He asked, unfortunately with a mouthful of chocolate drizzle and whipped cream. 
“You don’t have to justify your existence with humour.”
“That was uncomfortably perceptive.” 
“I told you, I people-watch a lot.”
Jamal said nothing, it was his turn to look defeated while eating ice cream. 
“I think you’re very handsome,” Omari said bluntly, making Jamal almost choke with caramel ice cream. He couldn’t help but vaguely not that it would be his preferred way to die. 
“Can we make a packt?”
“What?” 
“I will accept that I’m handsome if you accept that you’re pretty.” 
Omari stared at him. After a moment, he shrugged philosophically.
“Fine.” He said “We can make it even more interesting. “I will keep my face uncovered if you stop joking about your body.” 
Jamal frowned. That would take away ninety per cent of what he had to say, but if that meant he could see Omari’s face, then he was willing to make the sacrifice. 
“Deal.”
“Deal.” 
*
He was sweaty and stuffed uncomfortably full of ice cream, his enormous thighs were rubbing painfully together which made him waddle even more than usual. But he didn’t care, because Omari was holding his hand as they walked to the parking lot. 
“This is my car,” Omari said, stopping. His face was uncovered and Jamal hungrily took every detail of it in. “I really enjoyed our date.”
“So did I, thank you for coming out with me” Jamal smiled and Omari smiled back. They stood still for a moment. 
“Are you… going to kiss me or should I just get into the car and stop making it weird?” Omari laughed nervously. 
“Oh!” Jamal was startled by the fact that was even an option. The only other two dates he’d ever been on ended exactly like that. With a moment of awkward silence in front of the car and no return phone calls. “I’m sorry, yes, I-I would like that.”
“Well?” Omari laughed again, spreading his arms expectedly. 
“Yes, I’m sorry!” Jamal stepped up to him. He misjudged the distance and bumped Omari with his enormous gut. Omari stumbled back, landing against the driver's side door. Horrified beyond belief, Jamal surged forward to apologise but somehow ended up stumbling and crashing into the omega with his entire bulk.
“Well, that’s now exactly what I meant, but I’ll take it,” Omari said with a cheeky smile. He gently placed his hands on Jamal’s thick love handles. 
Swallowing heavily, he placed one hand on Omari’s neck and the other on the back of his head; not wanting to touch his face and irritate the skin. 
Turning his head slightly and with a shaky breath, he closed the distance between them and kissed Omari’s soft lips. It felt unreal.
When they parted, Omari smiled at him. 
“You taste like ice cream.”
“So do you.” 
They both chuckled, going back in for a second, longer kiss. 
Some minutes later, Jamal waddled back to his car unable to stop the goofy smile from spreading across his face.
Things were finally coming up Jamal. 
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pecanpiegut · 4 days
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Alright Grammarly, you win this round, that's hilarious
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Grammarly really fucking hates me (see what I did there hehehehe)
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pecanpiegut · 4 days
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Grammarly really fucking hates me (see what I did there hehehehe)
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pecanpiegut · 4 days
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Prince Ravindra from this short story!
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pecanpiegut · 4 days
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The Elephant King and The Tiger Prince
Themes: shifter world (non-A/B/O), fantasy setting, immobility 
Word: 3886 
Part: 1/1 
“Halt in the name of Dharma, The Elephant King!” 
Two Elephant Guards emerged out of the thick jungle onto the path. As all elephant shifters, they were big-bellied and thick-limbed. In their animal forms, two more emerged, their enormous elephant legs shaking the earth as they stepped onto the path. The two in human forms pointed sharp spears at the approaching tiger. 
“Halt!” One of them repeated as the tiger drew near.
It stopped. The stripes on its back began to glow brightly, soon the light radiating from them was so bright the Elephant Guard covered their eyes. When the light subsided, it revealed a young man, dark-skinned and dark-haired, with a sharp face and wild, gold eyes. He threw himself down in a bow, his forehead hitting the dirt. 
“I am Prince Ravindra of the Tiger People. I beg for the aid of the Elephant King.” 
The guards looked at each other in puzzlement, even the jungle seemed to have settled into a dumbfounded silence. After a moment of stillness, they lowered their spears. 
*
Ravindra watched with mild fascination how the Guard’s fat belly swung and jiggled with every step. He knew that because of the sheer size of their animal forms Elephant shifters had to store the additional bulk on them even in human forms; apparently, they used up so much primal magic to shift that if they were skinny they would simply expire. 
He knew that, and yet it was shocking to see soldiers be this fat. In his land, every Tiger Soldier was nimble, with tight, lean muscles. All tiger shifters were like that, even the elderly. The only other shifters he’d ever encountered were Eagles, Langurs and Avocets, all of which were lean and swift in their human forms. He couldn’t help but think of the Elephants as lazy seeing their large bellies and saggy, soft limbs. But he had no choice, he was desperate. 
They led him into the city. It was hidden deep in the heart of the jungle, surrounded by a low wall. If an enemy was determined, they could easily scale it and enter. But nobody ever attempted such a deed; Elephants were a peaceful people, but who turned deadly in a fight. 
He marvelled at the city. It was enormous, overflowing with abundance, every person well-fed, well-dressed and happy. Ravindra’s heart ached with longing, seeing how the Elephant King’s subjects seemed to have everything they could ever desire. 
When their small party arrived at the palace gates Ravindra was shocked to see how modest it was. It was still an enormous palace of white stone, of course, but it wasn’t even half as lavish as he imagined such a prosperous King would have. 
“You are entering into the presence of The Elephant King.” announced an enormous doorman as he swung the heavy doors of the Throne Room inwards. 
Ravindra stepped inside, body burning with urgency. 
The Elephant people he’d seen so far were all thick and sturdy, but none were close to their King’s size. Ravindra stared at the enormous man splayed on a low cushioned divan. He was so fat his lardy belly hand off the side of the divan, his legs were like swollen tree trunks, arms like overstuffed sausages… His round face was encased in a thick roll of fat in place of a neck. He was surprisingly young for such a prosperous ruler and, loath though Ravindra was to admit it, quite handsome. His eyes were those of an elephant; large orange-brown irises incase in a black sclera and shrouded in a fan of impressively long lashes. 
Ravindra, realising he was staring, threw himself to the ground, his forehead hitting the stone floor. “King Dharma, Oh, Great Elephant Lord! I am Prince Ravindra, I come to beg for your aid.” He stayed on the floor, waiting with bated breath.
“Welcome, dear Prince, please stand.” The Elephant King said in a low, smooth voice. He had such a soothing, gentle manner of speaking that Ravindra was immediately put at ease. 
He stood and was once again faced with the sight of the enormously fat man. He couldn’t help but wonder how such a man could be as great a leader as everyone claimed him to be. 
“What troubles you, prince?” King Dharma asked, urging him closer. Ravindra lowered himself onto a cushioned seat on the opposite side of the low table overflowing with food. 
“The Tiger King is dead.” He said. 
The previously stoic face of King Dharma cracked a little with surprise. His brow furrowed with something that looked eerily like compassion. 
“My condolences for your loss, Prince.” 
“I am the one to slay my father.” 
There was silence. A nearby guard raised his spear but the King waved him down. 
“Is that so?” He asked, looking at Ravindra from under his heavy lashes. 
“My father was a madman. A tyrant. He ran our people into the ground, he neglected the cultivation of the land…” Ravindra swallowed bitterly, his heart aching in anger “The land of the Tiger People is barren. We have nothing. There is no food, no prey, we are… We are starving, my people are dying. I had no choice, to save my people, I had to kill him.” He bit his cheek, looking down at his lap.
The King was silent for a while and when Ravindra dared look up, he found the man looking back at him with a surprisingly soft expression.
“Is that how you got this…?” He asked, gesturing to Ravindra’s scar that spanned from the side of his nose, all across his cheekbone and taking off the tip of his right ear. 
He nodded. 
“What would you ask of me, brave prince?”
“You are the master of a prosperous, rich land. I beg of you to aid my people, to feed them until they can once again feed themselves. In exchange, I am prepared to give you anything you desire.” He bowed so deeply he hit the table with his forehead. 
“Please, stop bowing.” The King’s chest rumbled with a soft chuckle. 
Ravindra straightened, swallowing anxiously. 
“I will save your people, Tiger Prince.” 
Ravindra couldn’t help himself, he bowed again, the dishes on the table giving a loud clang as his forehead collided with the wood. 
The King’s rumbling laugh filled the room. 
“Sit up, Prince.” 
“My gratitude is boundless, King Dharma. What price do you ask?” 
“You.” The king said, a twinkle in his gentle eyes.
“I don’t understand…” Ravindra searched his face in confusion.
“You said it yourself, Prince, the land is barren. Your people will not survive if they stay there. I can feed them, but what good would that do? They will still be unable to support themselves, enriching the land and making it fertile again will take decades, if not centuries. I have land in abundance and mine are peaceful people. I will accept them as my subjects. They will be free to settle and work in the Elephant Kingdom as equals. But my price is your hand in marriage.” 
Ravindra stared at the Elephant King. To marry this enormous man, to share his bed? But this was an offer beyond any generosity he could have hoped for. His people would live! Not only would they live, they would survive. There was only one answer he could give. 
“I accept your offer, Oh, Elephant King.” 
*
Ravindra swallowed heavily, peering in the mirror. His plump elephant aid connected the chain going from his nose ring to his ear with the elaborate golden earring hung there. He was wearing a traditional Elephant wedding garb. A mundu, a bottom garment made of a long white cloth wrapped around his waist. The fabric had beautiful, intricate golden borders. Another piece of cloth with similar golden elements was resting on his shoulders and flowing along his arms. He was also wearing a tight, beautifully woven belt cinching his waist; a symbol of an outsider being accepted by the Elephant Kingdom. His chest was bare but for a heavy, gold necklace. Matching bracelets clang on his wrists and ankles. 
“You look beautiful, Your Highness.” The aid said, gently dabbing gold powder over his eyes and lips. 
Ravindra didn’t disagree, he wasn’t a particularly vain man, but he had to admit he looked handsome in the Elephant wedding attire. That was the only problem. He was wearing Elephant wedding attire. For his wedding. His wedding with the Elephant King. 
He was led through the palace and barely registered any of it, his mind in a foggy, uncertain haze. Before he knew it, Ravindra was entering the Elephant Temple. It was stuffed with people. There were mainly elephant shifters but there were also dozens of tiger shifters. His people. 
He walked to the centre, where his future husband waited. He was wearing similar clothes to Ravindra, only with less golden jewellery, safe for his crown and nose ring. Ravindra couldn’t help staring at the enormous stomach hanging over the waist of the King’s mundu; he was so enormously fat his dark, soft flesh seemed like it was melting off, sagging low and heavy, pulled down by its own mass. 
The High Elephant Priest raised her hands high in the air and the ceremony began. In a moment, he would be wed. 
*
Ravindra flopped onto his back, all four paws in the air. The morning sun was warm and he purred contentedly. 
“Ehrm, Your Highness…” someone cleared their throat. 
Ravindra’s eyes snapped open and he saw his elephant aid, Rohit, bow low, trying very hard not to look at him. 
He shifted swiftly, covering himself with a thin blanket. 
“Yes, Rohit?” 
“The King requests your presence for breakfast.” 
“I’ll be there momentarily.” 
Rohit bowed low and scurried away. 
It’s been a week since the marriage ceremony. Ravindra thought the King would want to consummate their marriage immediately and expect him to share his bed every night, but it was not so. Ravindra got his own beautiful room and so far all the King expected of him was to have breakfast and dinner with him. 
Ravindra put on a long tunic and loose trousers, he adorned his ankles and wrists with golden bracelets signifying his Royal marital status and made his way to the King’s dining terrace. 
“Good morning, Ravindra.” The King smiled at him warmly, already finishing off his first, and definitely not last, plate of food. 
“Good morning, Your Highness.” He bowed, taking his seat. 
“I hope you had a good night?” 
“Yes, thank you.”
The King let out a small sigh. He stopped eating. A sight Ravindra witnessed so rarely that he looked up at him in surprise. 
“You don’t like me very much, do you, Ravindra?” 
He looked away, embarrassed. 
“I’m trying to understand why.” The King continued in his smooth, deep voice. “Do you think I’m not a just ruler?”
“No!” Ravindra looked up urgently “You are an amazing king, a fantastic ruler!” 
“Then what is the matter?” 
Ravindra couldn’t stop himself from glancing at the enormous expanse of belly pooling in The King's lap. He looked away again, pouring himself a cup of tea to have something to occupy his hands.
“Really..?” The King said sadly “I must say I am quite disappointed in you, Ravindra.”
“Disappointed?”
“You can’t accept me just because of my size?” 
He felt shame heat his face.
“I’m sorry, I just don’t see how someone who can barely walk can defend his Kingdom.” 
“My Kingdom is strong” The Elephant King said and his deep voice had an edge that wasn’t there before. He was angry. Ravindra tensed up, staring at the shaky surface of his tea. “My Kingdom is stronger than yours ever was” He continues “I cultivate positive connections of mutual benefit with all the surrounding lands, I have no enemies. My people are happy and long for nothing. They pay taxes, but unlike other rulers, who hoard their wealth, I spend the money they pay me in taxes on giving back to my people. On improving the safety of my cities and villages, improving the roads. Nobody in my kingdom works themselves into the ground to survive. They work hard, but they don’t slave away for a piece of fruit. They work hard and they live in abundance and safety in return. Can you say the same about your own people? People who were famished and riddled with diseases when my kingdom took them in. Did they not all receive housing and resources? Did I not provide for those who were too weak to work and employ those who were ready for labour? Did I not do that?” 
“You did, My King,” Ravindra said, his mouth dry like sand. 
“I am a good King, My Consort. I am a good ruler and, dare I say, I think I at least try to be a good man. Did I treat you poorly in any way since you’ve come here? Did I disrespect you in any way?”
“No!” Ravindra said, his face burning. He looked up a the king pleadingly “You are gracious beyond belief to me, I thank you for it, My King…” 
The Elephant King smiles sadly. 
“And yet you disregard all of that, you disregard who I am and what I do, you are cold and distant just because of the way I look.” 
Ravindra wanted to cry, rage and shame overcoming him completely. He hung his head low.
“I ask just one thing of you, My Consort. Try to be more open-minded. Try to see past people’s bodies and into their hearts. Try to see into my heart.” 
He looked up, finding the Kings full of longing and pain. 
God, what has he done? How could he be so ungrateful and cold towards this amazing man who did nothing but showered him with compassion and understanding since the day he begged for his help?
Moved by shame and urgency, Ravindra shot up from his seat, falling to his knees by the King’s side. He took his big, soft hand and kissed the dimpled knuckles gently. 
“Forgive me, My King. I am a despicable man.” 
The King pulled his hand away and for a moment Ravindra thought he was pulling away, but soon the hand came to caress his cheek. 
“I am your husband, please, call me Dharma.” 
Ravindra smiled hesitantly. 
“Forgive me, Dharma. I am a naive fool of a cat.” 
“I only ask for you to learn to reserve your judgement until you get to know someone, not just assume who they are because of the size of their belly. Can you do that?” 
“I will try, I promise.” 
Dharma smiled at him and Ravindra felt a wave of relief wash over him. 
“Sit down, Ravindra, eat. You barely ate for the past week.” 
“I was… Preoccupied with my thoughts.” He sat on the cushion next to Dharma, as opposed to the one on the opposite side of the table. 
“Eat, husband, you might discover that food has a sweeter taste when you open your heart.” 
Ravindra startled at that strange remark but when he looked at Dharma he was already back to his plate. He examined his husband for a moment. He wasn’t that much older than Ravindra, and yet, there was so much wisdom in him, so much compassion. It was true, he realised, what Dharma said before; he was a good man. Yes, he was fat, but was that such a bad thing really? And why? He traced the soft curves of Dharma’s body with his gaze. Somehow they suited him, Ravindra realised. He had a soft heart and a soft body to go with it. Had he been muscular, or lean like Ravindra, it would be at odds with his calm, gentle character. 
Without thinking, he reached out to grab Dharma’s hand which wasn’t preoccupied with eating. The King was startled, dropping a piece of fruit and looking at him. 
Ravindra smiled and Dharma smiled back brilliantly, squeezing his hand. 
“What should I eat first?” Ravindra asked. 
*
The fabric groaned and Ravindra frowned. There was a banquet planned for the evening; some wealthy pangolin merchants were coming to the city to negotiate trade agreements and Dharma requested he wear his best, including the beautiful embroidered waist sincher he wore at their wedding. 
But the belt would not close. Not only would it not close, but it was nowhere near encompassing his waist, there were at least two entire palm-lengths between the opposite rows of loops and buttons. Ravindra looked in the mirror and was surprised to see his abdomen changed from what he remembered it to be. There was a definite, soft roundness around his midriff. As he looked at himself now, he realised his entire body was softer all over; but it wasn’t as noticeable as the roundness of his stomach. 
“Are you quite ready, Ravindra?” Dharma waddled into the room, his enormous gut on full display, as was the custom. 
“I don’t think I can wear this” He confessed, demonstrating by wrapping the waist cincher around himself.
Dharma gave him an adoring smile. 
“I told you, my love, food has a sweeter taste when you open your heart.” 
Ravindra was much shorter, and so he wrapped his arms around Dharma’s soft neck, pulling him down for a kiss. He pressed himself against his husband’s soft body. 
“Is my softening gut a tribute to the King then?” He asked, his stomach fluttering with an unexplainable excitement.” 
“It is.” Dharma agreed, kissing him again. 
*
Ravindra was panting; he shifted and got out for a run in the King’s private garden, but after only a few minutes, he was utterly exhausted. His muscles ached and his stomach sagged, swaying in between his back legs and obstructing his movements. Feeling like he could run no more, he plopped down in the grass, rolling to his side and panting. The sun was pleasantly heating his fur and with a gentle purr, he drifted into a much-deserved nap. 
Something was poking him and when he opened his eyes he found himself splayed in the grass, being poked by a trunk of the most magnificent elephant. His heart lept with joy at the sight of him. He pushed the trunk away with his paw playfully. 
Dharma let out an amused huff and shifted. Ravindra did the same. Almost immediately, two servants scurried over with blankets and pillows for them to rest on. 
“Bring something to eat, My Consort looks famished,” Dharma said, his fat body settling against the pillows. 
Ravindra lay down gratefully, allowing his own body to melt into the pillows. He looked down at his soft breasts and large, sagging belly with satisfaction. His tribute to the King. He’d never imagined he would grow so large, and yet here he was, nearly as fat as Dharma, who was the biggest, strongest elephant in the land, his bulk more a necessity than indulgence. Ravindra’s body on the other hand? Oh, that was pure indulgence. There was no more suffering and fear for the survival of his people, no enemies were threatening their joined Kingdoms. There was nothing for Ravindra to do but cultivate his marriage. And cultivate he did. He ate for the pleasure of his husband, but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t his own pleasure also. Ravindra could not be satiated, there were no more days where he felt full, and he found he could always eat more. And he wanted to do so, Gods, did he want to? His and Dharma’s meals lasted for hours, both rejoicing in each other’s company and in the food they consumed. And when Dharma was busy tending to their Kingdom, Ravindra had Rohit bringing in a steady supply of snacks all day long, until at dinner he sat with his husband to eat for hours once more. 
  *
“My Love, I must attend a council meeting momentarily, but please, don’t waste any of this wonderful food,” Dharma said, hefting his enormous bulk to standing. He placed a kiss on the top of Ravindra’s head and slowly waddled off their private terrace. They’d been having one of their wonderful long breakfasts until a messenger from the council came to call on the King’s attention. 
Ravindra looked at the table still overflowing with food, his mouth watering at the sight of the gorgeous treats; candied fruits, thick milky desserts, sweet honey-drizzled wonderfulness… “Rohit, fill a plate for me, would you?” He asked. 
“Of course, King Consort!” His aid hastened to take his last plate from him and begin another. 
Ravindra had grown too large to reach the table over his enormous bulk, but thankfully his aid was always there for him. 
He received the plate gratefully. Setting it on top of his massive stomach he started eating with relish. They continued this until the table was almost completely empty, save for the few things Ravindra didn’t like; they weren’t sweet enough. 
Rubbing his enormous belly contentedly for a moment he sat there, admiring how solid and big he’d become for his King. The blinding light filled the terrace as he shifted; these days walking on two feet was entirely too taxing, and so Ravindra preferred to move around in his animal form. 
He slowly began his laborious trek to the bed. His overstuffed, enormously round stomach dragged on the ground, his fat-encased paws shaking and jiggling with every movement. 
*
“Where’s the King Consort?” a dignitary from the distant Leopard Kingdom asked one of the Elephant courtiers. 
“He will be rolled out in a moment.” She replied, slurping up a juicy piece of fruit. 
“Rolled out?” 
“There.” The elephant shifter gestured to the Great Hall doors as they pulled open. 
“Ravindra, King Consort of the Elephant Kingdom!” The door guard announced loudly. Two elephant shifters in their animal forms appeared, they were pulling a low platform, outfitted with wheels. On it lay stacks of pillows and against them lay a man so enormously fat it took the Leopard Dignitary a moment to take the unbelievable sight in. The King Consort was a mountain of flesh, his belly pooling in front of him and taking up a sizeable portion of the platform, his hips spreading so wide to the sides they were almost spilling over the edges. He lay back relaxed, smiling demurely as his enormous accumulation of flesh shook and jiggled with the movements of the platform. The elephant shifters rolled him right up to the table beside the King. 
The King took the Consort’s overstuffed hand and pressed a kiss to it. The look in his eyes was so full of love and overflowing with adoration that the Leopard dignitary looked away, feeling like they were intruding on something private.
“Welcome, all!” The King’s deep voice filled the Great Hall. “Thank you all for coming to join us, for tonight is a special celebration. My beloved, the love of my life and the light of this land, King Consort Ravindra, is celebrating his birth day!” 
A ruckus of applause filled the room and the King laughed heartily. 
“Thank you! Now, eat, my dear guests! May you find that food tastes that much sweeter when you open your hearts to love.” He said, no longer addressing the crowd, but gazing deep into his husband’s eyes. 
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pecanpiegut · 4 days
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I just wrote 8 pages in one sitting so maybe this is possible. I don't think I can finish 4 of them today but maybe I can whip up one more and a drawing........
Not me wanting to write 4 separate stories in a day------
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pecanpiegut · 5 days
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Not me wanting to write 4 separate stories in a day------
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pecanpiegut · 5 days
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When you're just chillin', watching some TV and suddenly your chubby chaser girlfriend spots you---
Hadley and Layney from this story -> Unpaid Help
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pecanpiegut · 5 days
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i am alive and the boys (and girl) are back in town
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pecanpiegut · 16 days
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the fact I have the audacity to call myself a kink creator is hilarious. bitch, where. I literally wrote a tutorial on how to get a trans woman off and included two mentions of a round belly somewhere along the way and called it a day---
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pecanpiegut · 16 days
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Please take a vote on what I should write next! I can't decide because I want to write everything hahah
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pecanpiegut · 18 days
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Gluttony (WG story)
Themes: urban fantasy, supernatural creatures, rapid weight gain
Words: 1851
Part: 1/1
Gluttony. Lust. Greed. Wrath. Sloth. Vain. Pride.
“Is he the new one then?”
“I liked it better when we had the old Gula.”
“Nobody asked for your opinion now, have they?
“Siblings, please, calm.”
His eyes open for the first time and he sees that he is seated at a table. There are six others there, sitting around it in a circle.
He never saw them, he never saw anything before, but as he looks at them one by one he knows exactly who they are.
An androgynous person; perfect beyond belief, pale and white-haired and beautiful. They are naked; Luxuria. Lust.
Next, a man, dark-haired and dark-skinned, wearing a perfectly tailored suit, smiling widely. His teeth are bright white and his eyes gleam with ruthless sharpness; Avaritia. Greed.
Next to Greed, a woman. Gaunt, breathing heavily, eyes ablaze with fury, her red hair floating around her like a halo of fire; Ira. Wrath.
Next, a ragged man in a stained, threadbare shirt. He smiles lazily with a set of yellowish, uneven teeth; Acedia. Sloth.
Following him, an androgynous figure, as dark as Luxuria is white and equally beautiful. They are sitting perfectly still, all sharp cheekbones and a long, perfectly poised neck; Vanagloria. Vain.
Lastly, between himself and Vanagloria a tall woman, sitting straight as an arrow, her mouth pressed into a thin line, her green gaze daring and unyielding. She is wearing a suit as perfectly tailored as her brother’s; Superbia. Pride.
They are the Seven Deadly Sins. And he is one of them. He is Gula.
Gluttony.
“Welcome back, brother,” Pride says.
“What happened to my previous body?” He asks, lifting a hand to look at it.
Sloth snorts a laugh, sticking a greyish tongue out between his yellow teeth.
“Silence!” Pride snaps.
“You know we cannot tell you, brother!” says Wrath.
“Why are we here then?”
“Ceremony, of course,” Lust says rubbing their flat chest with long, slender fingers.
“Just making sure you go right back to work, brother dear.” Greed says, his bright smile wide and predatory “Just remember, brother.” Greed continues, his voice shooting right through Gluttony “You are not immune to your own power.”
“What does that mean?” He asks, but before Greed can answer, the table dissolves into mist, and his siblings disappear like snuffed candle flames.
Earth.
It felt like a thousand years since Gula’s last visit. He knew that his death and rebirth didn’t even last a second in the material universe, but he didn’t think he would ever get used to that. As usual, the feeling of not knowing what happened to his previous manifestation is disconcerting, but not enough to distract him from the overpowering urge to get back to work. Sensing a familiar stirring in his gut, he stalks down the street. A fat middle-aged man stood in front of a candy store, looking at the display with deep longing.
“You deserve a treat, Peter, you had such a long day at the office. And you’ve been so good with your diet! Mary surely wouldn’t mind if you just had a few caramels…” Gula whispers into Peter’s ear, looking at their reflections in the shop window. Peter’s is the only one visible.
Gula watches as the expression on the man’s face changes from longing to determination and he disappears inside the store.
Feeling rejuvenated and pleasantly tingly all over, Gula continues down the street, feeling the voices calling to him. Ah, how he missed working.
A boy stands on a doorstep, bearing a gift bag in his hands, gazing into it with a conflicted expression.
“Mom indeed gave you this to take to Andy’s birthday party, but surely Andy doesn’t need a toy, a chocolate and a whole pack of candies too, right? He will probably get so many sweets from other people anyway, the toy will be enough.”
He stays just long enough for the boy to stuff the candy into his pocket and tear it into the chocolate. The smell is enticing, almost enchanting to Gula, but propelled by his nature, he moves on to the next one.
He stopped by two women sitting in an outside area of a cafe. The older one is slim, stiff and superior, the younger fat, glorious and visibly enraged.
“Your mother will always be a hateful bitch, Carla.” He says, leaning over Carla’s chubby shoulder “She will never stop pestering you about your weight, so you might as well show her how little you care. Go on.” He urges.
“What can I get for you, ladies?” The waitress asks, approaching the table.
“Just black coffee for me.” Carla’s mother says, her smile as stiff as the rest of her.
“I will have…” Carla leans over the menu, her fat stomach pressing into the edge of the table “The chocolate Sundae, a wild berry milkshake and a lava cake.” She smiles sweetly at the waitress before shooting a satisfied smirk at her mother’s enraged, poorly subdued gasp.
“Nice work, brother mine.” Someone whispers into his ear and a shiver runs through him.
“What are you doing?” He asks, whipping around to look at Lust.
Luxuria points to another table where a pair sits elbow to elbow, pretending to be deep in conversation, but Gula sees that their hands are under the table and in each other’s pants.
“Leave me be, sibling,” Gula warns and Luxuria saunters away, leaning over the lovebirds and whispering into their ears.
The waitress appears, carrying Carla’s order and Gula’s stomach growls. Oh, how delicious that lava cake looks. Oh, how that milkshake calls him…
“Careful, brother mine,” Luxuria calls, but when Gula turns they are no longer there.
He turns back around and as the waitress walks by him he snatches the lava cake off the tray.
“Here you go…” She says, but then stops, examining the tray in confusion “I’m so sorry, I forgot your lava cake! I will be back in a moment.”
She scurries away but Gula doesn’t pay the woman any attention anymore, all he can think of is that glorious cake, dark and rich, with a dollop of whipped cream and three raspberries on top.
His mouth stretches inhumanly wide as he slides the entire thing into it. Gula chews and the taste explodes in his mouth. Sensations play a symphony in his mouth, making the entire physical plane shift.
Body ablaze, Gula stalks down the street, and suddenly every desperate need and yearning is amplified, every human longing for a sweet morale screaming at him.
“Do it, Anthony, what’s a few more pounds?” He whispers, snatching a piece of greasy, mind-numbingly delicious pizza as he walks by.
“Come on, Gretchen, you’ll start the diet tomorrow,” Gula says, grabbing a piece of a piping hot apple pie.
“Who is Doctor Amir to tell you four hundred pounds is too much? You’re just big-boned!” He laughs, snatching a piece of layered cake in every hand. He stuffs them both into his mouth at the same time, already moving on to the next one.
More, more, more.
He wants more, he can feel it all. They want it, every single one of them wants it with such deep, unyielding desperation.
But none wants it as much as he does.
His gluttony is rivalled by no man. He isn’t gluttonous. He is Gluttony.
It is not coming to him, it is coming from him.
His gift for humanity.
Gula stalks down the streets, tempting human beings everywhere. In every city, in every town, every country.
Everywhere.
The more he tempts the bigger his hunger, it overpowers him. Soon, he doesn’t stalk down the streets, he walks. Sooner still, he waddles, swollen and overfed, but still wanting more. His jaw constantly working; chewing, stretching, ingesting.
“You…want… it…” He pants into the ear of a man staring at a hot dog stand.
Gula has grown too enormously fat to say more than that, the accumulation of lard pressing on his lungs too much to speak. Still, he grabs two hot dogs from the stand and stuffs them whole into his mouth.
He waddles down the street, gasping for air, the enormous rolls of fat covering him swaying with the movement. His gigantic gut almost dragging on the floor in front of him.
“You fool!” He hears a sharp bark of laughter.
Avaritia stands in the street, almost melting into the group of businessmen talking loudly next to him.
“What… do you… want… Greed?” Gula pants, snatching a massive burger out of a woman’s hand. He inhales it whole and the additional weight of it is the tipping point. His body grows too enormous to support itself and he falls, the impact shaking the street and sending shockwaves across the fatty expanses of his flesh.
“I told you, brother.” Greed says, walking over to stand over Gula. “You are not immune to your own power. Once you taste human food it’s already too late.”
“What happens now?” Gula demands.
“Here.” Greed laughs, snatching a chocolate cake from a nearby vendor and placing it on top of Gula’s enormous mountain of a stomach. “Enjoy it before He comes.”
“Avaritia!” Gula bellows, but his brother is gone.
Unable to move, trapped under his flesh, Gula reaches for the cake. He can barely grab it, but he is determined to consume.
“Hello, cousin.” An oddly neutral, flat voice says and, out of the dark corner of the street, He steps out.
Gula swallows, his enormous chins shaking with the movement.
“What are you doing here?” He asks, already knowing the answer, but unable not to ask. This is how it must go. This is how it goes every time. He’s starting to remember. And with that memory arrives the knowledge of what comes next. Gula shutters, wanting more than anything to run, but he’s trapped. The enormous body overflowing with fat is too heavy even for his otherworldly powers to control
“I am the Eldest.” says He, hovering in closer.
“Must you do this?”
“You’re unable to perform your duties, thus you must be remade to begin anew.”
“Why do I have to forget every time? If I remembered maybe I wouldn’t let the human food tempt me…”
“Such is your fate, Gula.” says He, now hovering over Gula. He’s so close His cold, freezing breath wafts over Gula’s face.
Such is your fate.
You are not immune to your own power, brother.
He understands.
He is Greed and Greed is him.
As He moves in, outstretching a black-fingered, skeletal hand towards him, Gula stuffs the last piece of cake into his mouth. He won’t remember, but he savours the taste.
The black hand snatches and everything dissolves.
“Is he the new one then?”
“I liked it better when we had the old Gula.”
“Nobody asked for your opinion now, have they?
“Siblings, please, calm.”
His eyes open for the first time and he sees that he is seated at a table. There are six others there, sitting around it in a circle. They are the Seven Deadly Sins. And he is one of them.
He is Gula.
Gluttony.
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pecanpiegut · 18 days
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babe wake up new Marty lore just dropped
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pecanpiegut · 19 days
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I hit 700 watchers on DA so I drew a (not so) little Marty to celebrate!
He made the sign himself. He has no artistic skills to speak off, but he's cute so we can forgive him.
Also, that shirt might need an upgrade to a bigger size soon ~
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