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lardguz · 4 years

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Zeke’s Just Desserts

This is a "little" story I worked on a couple weeks ago that I kept forgetting to make a new blog to post it to, so uh, here it is! It's about characters from Xe//nobla//de 2 because I have been like really into that game lately haha.

The calm night air of the Urayan Titan made for an intoxicating atmosphere to relax in after a long day of fighting and adventuring. Zeke von Genbu, the prince of Tantal, was currently taking in this beautiful weather while sitting outside a vacant shop front. The muscular man was sitting at a café table, watching flower petals falling from the trees and dancing in the breeze. He was waiting on his Blade, Gorg, to finish… whatever it was he was doing in that vacant store, when Zeke caught a whiff of something delicious on the breeze. The one eyed warrior inhaled deeply, smelling the intoxicating scent of something sugary and delicious. Closing his eye to try taking his mind off the smell, Zeke was taken off guard by the clatter of a plate sounding right next to his feet that were reclined on top of the table. His one good eye shooting open, the prince was greeted by the sight of his newest Blade, the merman Gorg, standing proudly next to a plate piled high with freshly baked cookies.

“What’s all this, chum?” Zeke inquired, staring down at the plate of cookies in front of him, and glancing back up at the aquatic Blade.

“Cookies, sir. Made ‘em myself,” Gorg replied proudly. “Try ‘em! They’re my special new test recipe for the café!”

Zeke took a cookie in his surprisingly delicate grasp, sniffing it suspiciously before taking a pensive nibble. The flavor surprised him, spicy but sweet at the same time. Within seconds the cookie was devoured, and the muscular prince immediately grabbed another. As he was reaching for his fourth cookie, a metallic hand gently grabbed his wrist.

“Ah, sir, I didn’t need you to eat them all at once,” Gorg smiled apologetically. “I just needed you to taste one for me and tell me if anything needs improvement.”

Zeke’s face flushed a slight pink as he hurriedly looked anywhere but at his Blade or the plate of cookies. “A-ah, yes, right, ahem. I did in fact realize this, but you see, the bearer of the Eye of Shining Justice has a mighty appetite, and needed to taste more than just one cookie for the full effect!”

Gorg placed his mechanical hands on his muscular hips and chuckled heartily at the embarrassment on his Driver’s face. “Sure thing, Prince, that makes perfect sense to me! But if you wanna help me out even more, you can just finish off that plate of cookies and tell me if you think they’re good enough to sell at the shop once and for all!”

Zeke cleared his throat, about to pass of gorging himself any further on the delicious cookies, when the smell of the spicy treats reached his nose again. Damn, why did he have to love spicy food so much? Sighing deeply, the one eyed prince vowed to himself that he’d train extra hard with Pandoria tomorrow to work off the extra calories he was about to consume. Then, he proceeded to shovel the test batch of cookies into his mouth one after another in steady succession, even after his stomach was already painfully full. The Zekenator didn’t back down from a challenge, whether on the battle field, or at the dinner table.

Finally, after clearing the plate of every cookie that was once upon it, the unlucky prince groaned in pain as he rubbed at his exposed midsection, his stomach slightly distended from all the food he’d just packed into it. The overstuffed swordsman slowly got up and walked to the local inn to go sleep off his food coma, hoping he would feel better tomorrow so he could begin working off the excess he’d just devoured.

A week had past since that first taste testing day that Zeke and Gorg had had, and the aquatic Blade had only amped up his recipe experiments since then. The day after that first trial run, Zeke woke up feeling more sluggish than usual, his gut still feeling slightly heavy. He had been about to go train with Pandoria when Gorg stopped him in the lobby of the inn and asked for his help tasting another batch of a different cookie recipe for him. This happened again and again over the next six days, a never ending cycle of delicious baked goods being handed off to the prince for an honest opinion on their flavors, and Zeke being unable to stop himself from gorging on the entire batch. This led to the man’s current predicament.

Zeke stood in his rented bedroom at the Fonsa Myma inn, staring at himself in a full length mirror. His hands were currently holding onto his stomach, which had a budding layer of fat forming on it that was blatantly obvious to anyone with at least one eye, seeing as he never wore a shirt under his long tattered coat. His hands groped and prodded at his once-chiseled chest and abdomen, now sporting a much softer, rounded physique. Zeke was about to go out and train a little on his own to see if he could burn the fat off of him before it became too much of a hindrance, when he heard a knock at his door.

Opening the door slightly, Zeke was greeted by the ever-enthused face of Gorg, the budding pastry chef Blade. “Hey there, good morning to you, Prince! Just thought I’d stop by and ask for your help again at the shop today! I made a bunch of a test recipe for flans and need to know what a human thinks of them, if that’s okay with you?” The Blade grinned proudly, obviously excited to have finally moved past cookies.

Zeke almost didn’t have it in his heart to turn the excited merman down, but if he kept up these eating habits, no one would ever look at him the same again. The prince cleared his throat and looked Gorg in the eye. “Gorg, my friend, you see, there’s a bit of a smallish problem with me being your designated taste tester. You see, a strong, handsome, powerful prince such as myself can’t do nothing but eat desserts all day. If I keep doing that, I’ll lose my combative edge, and then what? No one will fear the great Thunderbolt Zeke, the Zekenator, the Eye of Shining Justice, if they think he’s gone soft, right, chum?”

Gorg looked down apologetically before responding. “Yeah, you see, Prince, I did kind of already notice you’d been putting on a little weight from the cookie taste test trials, and I’m sorry I didn’t do anything to stop or help. But I did come up with a plan for the flan tests! I’m using much less fattening ingredients in this trial run, so you should be able to shed the excess weight from the cookies in no time!”

“Wha—really?!” Zeke exclaimed, “That’s fantastic news, Gorg! Well, in that case, I’m all yours for the day! Point me towards the flans, and Thunderbolt Zeke will see to it they never see the light of day again! Hah!” He struck one of his usual dramatic poses, the soft layer of flab on his stomach wobbling slightly as he did so. Gorg led him to the shop front, with a table laid with an array of his latest attempt at a flan flavor, enough to feed a small family for a week. Zeke managed to put it all away in the space of an hour, and then asked for seconds, to which the chef Blade was happy to oblige. He loved baking, but what he loved more was seeing people enjoy his desserts, but Gorg had never imagined someone would ever enjoy them to the extent that his beloved Driver did. So he promised himself that he would do nothing else aside from keep cooking marvelous dishes to please the Tantalese prince for the rest of their time together.

Zeke woke up groggily one morning because of a sudden loud noise interrupting his slumber. He blinked his eye slowly, trying to determine the source of the sound, when it happened again: a low, gurgling rumble, coming directly from his stomach. The prince grumbled and slowly rolled over, swinging his feet over the edge of his bed. Heaving his considerable bulk up into a standing position, the topless prince made his way over to the mirror to take a look at his body.

The first immediately noticable thing was his face, which was much less sharp, and softened considerably by round chubby cheeks and a double chin. His neck was covered in a layer of fat as well, which caused him to have a triple chin when he looked down. His once-hardened muscular chest had softened to a flabby set of moobs, which sagged to the sides of his massive gut. His six pack was long gone, replaced now by a double-decker flabby stomach that split right across the middle, where the top roll folded over the belly button. His arms were much larger than they once were, but not in a muscular way; his biceps oozed with flab, dangling off his arms in true bingo wing fashion. His hands were even starting to get fatter too now. His massive thighs and rear gave were large compared to most other humans, but not enough to give him pear shaped body, his gigantic round gut giving him an undeniable apple shape. His thighs were covered in flabby rolls, a fold of fat beginning to form over his knees, and his ass cheeks were each the size of a large melon, wobbling every time he even took a slight step. His footsteps were now an exaggerated waddle to prevent his enormous thighs from rubbing together too much.

Sighing, Zeke donned his coat, which was now painfully tight around his shoulders and armpits. It had been a month and a half since the warrior prince had begun helping his Blade, Gorg, pursue his dream of opening a dessert shop, and Zeke had since resigned himself to his new fate of being a fatass. Sure, Nia gave him a hard time, and Rex and Mórag were constantly worrying about his health, but he was strong and was able to push off their comments about his size quite easily at this point. If it meant making his Blade friend happy, and getting to enjoy his delicious cooking every day, the prince was happy.

Thankfully, the inn was a single floor building, and Gorg’s shop was right outside the front door, because Zeke was not in the best shape anymore. As the massive prince waddled his way to the store front, he plopped himself heavily into the nearest chair at a table, ignoring the creaking of the wooden seat as his gigantic behind sat down upon it, the flab of his ass and thighs oozing over the sides and threatening to swallow the chair whole. Wheezing from the exertion of just getting over to the store from the inn, Zeke was thankful when he saw Gorg approaching with plates piled high with drinks and cakes: milkshakes to cool him down after his exercise of waddling less than 200 feet, and piles of cakes for him to taste test for the shop. Gorg watched, pleased beyond words at the look of blissful satisfaction on his Driver’s fattening face as Zeke shoved slices of cake into his greedy mouth with barely any breaks or pauses, aside from slurping down milkshakes to clear his throat of crumbs. The strained seams of Zeke’s pants and coat popped in some places from this onslaught of gluttony, causing small bubbles of fat to seep through. Something about his Driver enjoying his food so much that he was outgrowing his clothes because of it sent a thrill rushing through Gorg’s chest, and he realized he wanted to cause the Tantalese prince to outgrow his clothes entirely.

Zeke chugged down the last milkshake, belching into a closed fist as he did so. His fat face was covered in frosting and crumbs, which he didn’t even seem to notice. “Really good stuff, there, Gorg! I think that’ll be some top-hole stuff to sell at your shop, chum.” Zeke patted his overfed middle joyously to emphasize his point.

Gorg grinned enthusiastically as he clapped the prince on his jiggly shoulder. “That’s great to hear! Well if that’s the successful cake recipe, then I think I’m ready to open the shop tomorrow. I’ll just need you and the others to help me advertise. Can you do that for me, Prince?”

Zeke huffed as he hoisted himself up from his table. Breathing heavily as he stood, balancing himself with a hand on the table, he finally responded. “Sure, chum, I can definitely help out with that. What’ll you need me to do?” Gorg looked thoughtful for a second before responding. “You, sir? I’ll give you a whole hell of a lot of free samples to try and entice people to our store, sound good?”

The obese prince nodded enthusiastically, chins wobbling as he did so. “Oh, absolutely! Nothing that the great Thunderbolt Zeke can’t handle!” Placing his chubby hands on his flabby love handles, he laughed heartily, his entire body jiggling as he did so. Tomorrow would be a day to remember for him, getting to participate in the grand opening of the first-ever Blade-made dessert store!

The day of the grand opening of Gorg’s Just Desserts arrived, and the sample table in the square in front of the shop was absolutely piled high with desserts. The overfed swordsman, Zeke, scratched at the upper roll of his round gut as he stared in awe at the display. “So he wants me to hand out all of these? For free??” He scoffed, and reached a hand out to grab some cookies. “There’s far too much here for just samples. I doubt we’ll really need all of it.”

As his pudgy fingers were about to grasp a cookie, a much smaller and skinnier hand slapped his away. “Wh- Hey!” Zeke turned his lard-stuffed body towards the aggressor, being confronted by the much smaller form of his comrade, the salvager, Rex. The brown-haired boy grinned up at the jiggly obese mountain of a man, patting him on his exposed gut. “What d’you think you’re doing with that, Zeke? Those samples are for everyone, you can’t just steal some for yourself, that’s bad for business y’know!”

Zeke sighed dramatically. “Rex, my treasured chum, you simply don’t understand! I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast today, and there’s far more here than we could reasonably give away to everyone who walks by! Gorg has been having my extraordinary taste buds to test his recipes all this time, so he must have thought ahead and put extra out for me to dull my impressive hunger! He’s my Blade, you know. We have a special bond, so of course he’d know that!”

“Oh, sure, guess that makes sense. I did figure that might be a bit too much product for free samples,” Rex mumbled as he messed with his hair embarrassedly. “Well then, maybe you should pull up a chair? I reckon standing for too long’s probably out of the question for you now, yeah?”

Zeke huffed in an annoyed manner as he pulled a chair up and lowered his considerable bulk down into it, once again oblivious to the ominous wooden creaks as he did so. Rex chuckled as he headed back to his spot for calling patrons into the shop, wondering to himself if Nia was gonna complain about Zeke’s size again.

Now comfortable in his comparably small café chair, which was dwarfed by his absolutely disgustingly oversized ass and thighs, the morbidly obese prince promptly began stuffing his face with cookies, flans, and cakes, grabbing each with his fingerless-gloved hands, his plump sausage fingers coated in frosting and crumbs and the fabric of his gloves stained from his weeks of wanton gorging. His jiggling jowls and multiple chins wobbled back and forth as he chewed ravenously, and his flabby bingo wings slapped against his overstuffed pillow moobs and numerous side rolls every time he lifted a handful of sweets to his hungry mouth. His overfed gut pooled in his lap, forcing his massive tree trunk thick thighs apart on the inside and drooping over them on the outside. His love handles squeezed out of the top of the waist of his pants, pushing the sides of his long tattered coat even further back than he used to wear it. His lardy, misshapen ass oozed over the sides of the chair, each cheek now the size of an average bean bag chair. His flabby thighs ripped through the fabric of his overburdened pants in many different spots, and he could no longer properly bend his legs because of the fat covering his knees.

The spectacle of the gigantic man attracted more onlookers than even Rex or Nia’s shouted introductions of the shop, every Urayan fascinated by the massive Tantalese man absolutely stuffing himself in a strange attempt at advertising. Entire personal-sized cakes vanished down his greedy throat at an alarming rate. Yet, none of the observers were put off by this gluttonous display at all; in fact, quite the contrary. Urayan made their way to Gorg’s Just Desserts by the dozen, walking away with their own personal mountains of confectioneries. Nia, the Gormotti Driver who had been traveling with Rex for longer than anyone else now, was absolutely stunned by this marketing strategy.

The furry-eared girl muttered to Rex as they watched Zeke pop a few more seams on his pants and coat while shoving handfuls of cookies into his mouth. “Hey, Rex, why d’you think people are so obsessed with watchin’ Shellhead stuff himself silly? Seems a little weird, don’t it?”

Rex gave her a little bit of a reprimanding look before responding. “Nia, you’ve got to stop being so mean to poor Zeke. He’s just trying to help make Gorg’s dream a reality, isn’t he? And isn’t that why we decided to travel to Elysium together?”

“What, so Shellhead could become a gluttonous blob?” Nia snickered

Rex looked baffled. “Wha… No! To make our dreams a reality! Me and Pyra’s, remember?”

The Gormotti Driver rolled her eyes. “Yeah, thanks, I know Rex. I was only jokin’. You know, humor? Laughs? That stuff?” She sighed heavily. “Anyways, I guess you’re right about Zeke. He always was a bit too willin’ tae help others. Maybe I’ll cut him some slack from now on. I mean, his clothes sure ain’t cuttin’ him any.”

Right as she said that, the sound of ripping fabric rent the air, and Nia and Rex both turned their gazes towards their flabby companion just in time to watch the last threads of his shredded pants give way. Scraps of the fabric caught in his love handles and under his drooping stomach rolls, as the rest drifted to the ground below his chair. Zeke didn’t seem to notice that his strained pair of boxers, which barely contained his pasty ass now and looked more like an oversized bikini bottom, was now exposed to every onlooker. Nia averted her gaze, blushing furiously. “Ey, Rex, go and tell Shellhead to cover up his unmentionables! I don’t wanna see any of that!”

Rex blushed as well at the realization that Zeke was this close to being nude in front of potential customers. “Oh, er, right! I’ll, er, take care of that I guess. But uh, I think his guy’s big enough now to cover up any, er, wardrobe malfunctions, isn’t it?”

Nia closed her eyes and snapped back at the oblivious Salvager. “’Ow should I know?! I’m not lookin’ at my fatass friend’s body tae see if his one-eyed monster is on display for all to see or not!”

Rex looked at Nia, amused. “Oh hey, so you do know what that means after al—”

“JUST SHUT UP AND GO COVER UP SHELLHEAD’S FAT ASS BEFORE HE SCARES OFF OUR CUSTOMERS!”

Rex hastily scurried off and came back with lots of fabrics he’d been holding onto from various stores, all from his travels with his friends. He usually used them to give to his Blades, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Zeke didn’t even notice his approach, the corpulent man continuing to stuff his face even more with the “samples” provided by Gorg. Placing a massive quilt over Zeke’s ever-growing lap, Rex heard a strange creaking noise as he did so. Creaking… and then… splintering wood?

“Oh, that can’t be good.” the Aegis Driver thought to himself, right before an ominous cracking noise came from under Zeke’s monumentally-sized ass. A split second later, the morbidly obese prince plummeted to the ground, his landing causing the entire area to shake as his considerable bulk hit the floor. Blinking slowly, Zeke looked around at all the awestruck onlookers, then to Rex, who was next to him looking concerned, to Nia, who was standing a fair distance away trying not to burst out laughing, and finally down to himself. He couldn’t even see past the rolls of fat that made up his massive round stomach anymore, so he wasn’t aware of his missing trousers. He felt a chill breeze hitting his back and shoulders, alerting him to the fact that his favorite coat was no more, and his entire upper half was devoid of clothing as well now. The rotund man realized that his arms were now so swaddled with fat that he couldn’t properly bend them anymore, and he also couldn’t put them down at his sides due to the abundance of flabby side rolls and his oversized moobs getting in the way. He also realized that his massive gut was currently pinning his legs to the ground, so he had no way of getting up onto his feet on his own.

The portly prince turned his lard-wreathed face towards his comrades, beseeching them for assistance. “Um, a little help here, chaps? Having a bit of a predicament with standing up, you know.” Rex immediately grabbed one of his fat hands and started heaving upwards, while Nia made her way over to do the same with the other arm. Once he was standing, it was quite apparent to all just how much Zeke had grown during this “marketing exercise” today. His massively round stomach now drooped down to the middle of his calves, the lowest roll dangling just a few inches off the ground. His fat-covered arms and legs were beginning to absorb his hands and feet respectively, both being gradually sunken into the lardy rolls of his arms and legs. The massive pillow sized biceps on his arms, which stuck out at an angle because of his moobs and love handles, were now extra apparent as the reason for his inability to lower them fully anymore. His good eye was in a permanent squint, due to the fat of his cheeks now forming a drooping set of jowls on his face. His double chin had graduated to a full-sized triple chin, and his neck was no longer visible at all, completely absorbed by rolls upon rolls of fat. His rear was covered in massive rolls of back fat, which would probably make it so he would never be able to lie on his back again. His flabby, shapeless ass cheeks drooped nearly as far as his gut when standing, most of the fat seeping out from under his overburdened boxers.

Wheezing after the exertion of just standing up, the mountainously obese man addressed the crowd of observers. “Huff… huff… ahem. As you can all see, Gorg’s Just Desserts are the best desserts you can find this side of Alrest! So go on over and buy some for yourselves!”

As the crowd dispersed to go rush over to the dessert shop, Zeke turned his round face as best as he could to address Nia and Rex. “Now, if you chaps’ll excuse me, I should probably go sleep this off at the inn.” He began slowly waddling the short distance to the building, his flab jiggling and slapping against itself the entire time. Rex and Nia stood transfixed by the hypnotic sway of his pendulous ass cheeks as he inched each tree trunk thigh forward step by step, the lower rolls of his gut slapping against his flabby ankles every time. His labored wheezing could be heard by anyone in a 100 foot radius, but no one seemed to pay the pudgy prince any mind. Nia turned to Rex, a smirk forming on her face. “D’you reckon he can even fit through the door to the inn at this point?”

Zeke von Genbu spent the entire afternoon and evening of the grand opening of his trusted Blade’s dessert shop sleeping off his food coma in his rented bedroom at the inn. He awoke with a start when there was a rapping at his door, blearily opening his eye to see pale moonlight filtering through the window. His insatiable stomach let out a loud rumble as he woke, and he called out to the door, “Who is it? If you don’t have food, you can bugger off!”

The bedroom door opened, revealing Gorg pushing a trolley cart loaded with desserts from his shop. The water Blade smiled at his blob of a Driver, watching him heave his considerable bulk into a sitting position on his bed, panting with the effort of doing even just that. He’s absolutely massive now… He must be getting close to 800 pounds, maybe even more than that! Gorg thought to himself, before wheeling the cart of desserts over to right beside his Prince’s bedside .

“What’s all this, then, chum?” Zeke asked, a look of confusion upon his flabby face. His apron of a belly was just beginning to push up to his toes when he laid down, and Gorg couldn’t help but notice how soft and comfortable his chest and tummy looked. The Blade cleared his mind and spoke up. “Well, because of your PR for the shop today, my debut as a patissier was a massive success! So I figured I’d bring you a thank you gift so we could celebrate my grand opening… together!”

Zeke’s overstuffed sausage fingers scratched at one of his highest love handle rolls, the only part of his enormous body he could still reach with his pillowy arms. “That’s great news, Gorg! But, ah, how am I supposed to eat all this when I can barely move my arms to grab any of the food with my arms this size?” Gorg didn’t use any words, but instead used action to answer the Prince’s question. Grabbing a tray of cakes, the athletic Blade scrambled up the rolls of Zeke’s belly, perching on his massive, cushiony breasts, and shoved a cake directly in between his plump lips. Zeke let out a muffled exclamation of surprise which promptly turned into a moan of pleasure as he tasted the cake. Gorg must have made it special for him, as its flavor was unlike any he had ever tasted before in his life. The one-eyed prince and his loyal Blade stayed up all night, Gorg stuffing more and more desserts into his Driver’s mouth as Zeke grew rounder, fatter, heavier, bigger, all because of his trusted companion. At one point during the night, the bed completely gave way under the immense weight perched upon it, but neither of its occupants cared; they just kept eating and feeding, Zeke crossing the threshold into complete immobility.

Local Urayan gossip spoke of the Blade-owned desserts shop and the massive house of its owner. Strange loud noises could often be heard emanating from it, but no one knew what it was. Many assumed it was a ghost or a pet or something, but in reality, it was the former Prince of Tantal, Zeke von Genbu. The man had reached full-on blob status thanks to a constant feeding schedule of desserts baked by Gorg,his Blade. His massive body filled an entire large room on its own, his shapeless ass cheeks and countless stomach rolls pressing against the walls of his quarters. His thighs as thick as couches now, dimpled with rolls of lard all over their massive expanse, were forced even further apart by his mountainous belly, which seeped in the space between his thighs with no effort whatsoever. His hands and feet had long ago been swallowed up by the flab encasing his appendages, his body a shapeless mass of rolls and fat that showed no signs of ever once being human at all. That is, unless you could find his head in all the expanse, the easiest way to do so being to listen for the sounds of eating and heavy breathing. Nestled between two enormous flabby jowls, an uncountable array of chins and neck rolls, and an expanse of back rolls that threatened to cascade over his head any day now, was a mop of silvery hair atop a comparably minuscule face adorned with one eye patch. The spoiled Prince’s face was always covered in small smears of frosting and crumbs from the Blade-powered conveyor belt of desserts built to deliver directly to his greedy mouth at all hours of the day, his blobby body growing ever larger every day. This was of course why Gorg purchased such a large house for just two occupants: so he could freely knock down any walls or ceilings needed to give his cherished Driver room to further grow.

#weight gain #male weight gain #ssbhm #my writing #fat!xenoblade

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tayman001 · 3 years

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GrimmIchi (post epilogue): Includes some Anime characters and an original character of mine also using Anime terms. 3

Ririn and Kurōdo: The fuck you say?

Taylor (uses his spirit energy): I SAID BACK DOWN! Ririn and Kurōdo (scared): OK... Kazui: still sleeping GAY! Koga: Why yes I am thanks for cluing into that little boy. Ichigo: You do realize old man that he is sleeping. Kazui: still sleeping suck... cock... dad... Ichigo: ... Taylor: Don't tell me you let him over hear you and Grimmjow getting intimate, Ichigo. Grimmjow: This is why I've told you to always close the door honey but you never do. Ichigo: EXUSE ME GRIMM BUT ITS YOU WHO DOES MOST OF THE TALKING DURING OUR ROMANTIC INTERCOURSES LIKE YOU ARE BASICALLY TALKING IN 3RD PERSON AND TELLING YOURSELF TO CHOKE ON MY COCK! Kazui: still sleeping choke... on... dad's... cock... Dadjow... Orihime: You aren't being a very good father right now Ichigo. Riruka: In fact I don't think you should even have any children to take care of because you aren't very responsible. Rukia: Neither are me and Renji and you both don't complain about our parenting skills towards Ichika. Renji: Yeah. Chad: ... Noba: ... Koga: ... Ririn and Kurōdo: ... Taylor: Enough! Who gives a fuck if Kazui learns stuff ahead of time... Most people do. Well based on your reactions it would seem like out of everyone here I'm the only adult here that has. Ichigo: See if you wanna blame anyone blame Taylor. Taylor: Ichigo if I were to teach Kazui anything ahead of time I wouldn't do it behind your back. So your statement holds no grounds since its incorrect. Grimmjow: GO TO SLEEP EVERYONE ITS LATE! Everyone (except Grimmjow): Fine! The next morning Kazui: wakes up before anyone else and plays with Ichigo's fatness Ichigo: unaware of what Kazui is doing since he has become a heavy sleeper Kazui (thinking): Maybe if I suck on one of his moobs he will wake up. Kazui: puts his mouth on Ichigo's right moob and starts to suck it Ichigo: wakes up feeling uneasy and sees Kazui sucking his right moob Kazui what the fuck are you doing? Kazui: doesn't stop Ichigo: Kazui get your mouth off my right moob this instance, young man. Kazui: tries but can't pull his mouth off Ichigo's right moob Ichigo: OK what is wrong now... Ichigo tries to pull Kazui off but can't its like his mouth is glued to Ichigo's right moob Ichigo: WTF IS WRONG WHY CAN'T KAZUI RELEASE MY RIGHT MOOB! Everyone (except Ichigo and Kazui): wake up because of Ichigo's shouting Ichigo: Before you say anything, Kazui woke me up by sucking on my right moob so don't blame me for him being stuck here since I've tried getting him off since I woke up. Taylor: I kinda figured that since you don't look like you are enjoying your son's mouth on your right nipple so I can guarantee I never thought anything of the sort. Taylor proceeds to pull out a strange stick out of his pocket and waves it around which sends a light out from the tip and it hits Kazui which pulls his mouth off Ichigo's right moob Taylor (returning the stick into his pocket): There he is free. Ichigo: WTF WAS THAT STICK! Taylor: Oh its my magic wand which I don't use unless to undo someone's glue pranks since glue and skin just means that they are stuck together forever such as if I hadn't used it Kazui would be hanging from his mouth off your right moob for the rest of his life if I hadn't done that and my guess the one who did the glue prank was... starts looking around for something and finds what he was looking for and grabs what it was and holds it so everyone can see it ...Kon. Kon: Please don't hate me for it I wanted to punish Ichigo for being Gay by gluing his right moob since I wanted to make him and Grimmjow stuck like that forever unfortunately Kazui ruined the plan by getting stuck himself. Ichigo: I'm gonna kill him! Kon: NO PLEASE DON'T! Taylor: Ichigo stop... Ichigo: Why? Taylor: ...I have a better idea. Taylor leaves and returns with a special made Gigai that screams "Kon" Kon: Is that for me? Oh WOW! Taylor removes Kon's Mod Soul Candy and places it inside the special made Gigai Ichigo: And how is this better? Kon quickly starts to inflate with pounds of fat

Kon: WTF YOU TRICKED ME YOU ASSHOLE! Ichigo: I never would have thought you'd trick him like that Tay. Taylor: He will remain mobile though. Meanwhile in the Soul Society At Squad 1's Barracks Shunsui: Hey Nanao? Got any word on Squad 13's status? Nanao: FOR THE LAST TIME NO CAPTAIN THEIR CAPTAIN IS STILL IN THE WORLD OF THE LIVING WITH HER FRIENDS. At Squad 2's Barracks Suì-Fēng (on the phone with Yoruichi who stayed in the World of the Living): Oh you are so naughty Lady Yoruichi! Marechiyo: still recovering from his last remark At Squad 3's Barracks Rose: playing his guitar Izuru: dancing At Squad 4's Barracks Isane: gets tripped by a Squad 11 member I'm sorry. Kiyone: ISANE THEY TRIPPED YOU THEY SHOULD BE THE ONE APOLOGIZING! At Squad 5's Barracks Shinji (on the phone with Hiyori): Admit it idiot you aren't returning to the Soul Society because Aizen is still alive but because the memories of the old days are too much for you to deal with. Momo: Captain I'm gonna go to Squad 10's Barracks. Shinji (ignoring Hiyori's yelling): Sure Momo go ahead. At Squad 6's Barracks Rikichi: Captain where is the Lieutenant? Byakuya: ... Rikichi (thinking): Oh great I'm so dead. Byakuya: He is in the World of the Living with his wife. At Squad 7's Barracks Tetsuzaemon: Atau? Atau: does the sign language for yes Tetsuzaemon: Have you seen Sajin? Atau: points to where he last saw Sajin At Squad 8's Barracks Lisa: Hey Yuyu, wanna go to the World of the Living to pester Taylor to get Line? Yuyu: Definitely! At Squad 9's Barracks Mashiro: Hey where is Kensei and Hisagi? Toshimori: They went home already since they said they wanted alone time since Lieutenant Hisagi is due to give birth early next month so they decided to take the last month off so Lieutenant Hisagi can take it easy and the Captain can be at his husband's side. Mashiro: UGH DO THEY NEVER LEARN! At Squad 10's Barracks Momo arrives at the Barracks Momo: Little Shiro where are you? Rangiku: Oh Hey Momo, If you are looking for my Captain he went to the Rukon District. Momo: So he probably went to visit his Grandma, how sweet. At Squad 11's Barracks Fighting can be heard inside At Squad 12's Barracks Mayuri: Akon you still doing ok down there? Akon (still extremely aroused): Yeah Captain in fact I love being trapped under you. At Squad 13's Barracks Sentarō: Its kinda boring here with the Captain out. Meanwhile in the World of the Living Noba (while no one is paying attention to Kon): opens a portal under Kon and it sends Kon into his stomach Kon (inside Noba's stomach): muffed screams Taylor: Noba if you are hungry I can give a bunch of clones to eat clones specifically designed for vore. Noba is thinking Noba: Sure releases Kon Taylor sends in some clones for Noba to do as he pleases with Noba: opens a portal under the group of clones which sends the clones to his stomach There is a knock at the door To Be Continued

#grimmichi #bleach characters #original characters #male pregnancy #male weight gain #male vore

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bodyswapmischief · 5 years

Text

Authentic Costumes: Gladiators

-Yes! The costumes came!

Andrew walked back into the living room, with a simple brown postal box. Jack stopped what he was doing, and looked at his friend.

-Good. They were cutting it pretty late. I mean the party is in 2 hours.

-Well, no need to complain anymore. Hurry let's bust them out and start getting ready. The site said the transformation process will take about an hour.

The two friends worked together to open the box. Inside were two authentic gladiators costumes and two jars of glowing purple liquid. In addition, there was a file describing the costumes in more detail.

- "Octavius and Maximus" Wow those are some bad-ass names. Apparently, they were the Ancient Roman's version of a tag team. It says that they were undefeated, loved by the roman people, and were able to retire, with a comfortable amount of winnings from their triumphs. If I'm reading this correct these potions will transform us into Octavius and Maximus at the height of their careers.

-It, also, says that Maximus was the stronger of the two. So ... I'll be taking this vial.

-Aww come on ...

- No dude. Look at the size of this armor both these guys must have been so ripped. It's not going to matter that I'm going to be slightly stronger than you. Besides, I'm the one that paid for them.

-Fine, fine, fine. Well here goes nothing. Cheers.

-Cheers

Both guys remove the tops on their jars and drink the purple liquid. Jack becoming Maximus. And, Andrew becoming Octavius. An intense sensation starts filling thier bodies, as with each heart beat the glowing liquid spreads through every vein in their body.

-Dude, I don't feel so ... good. I'm getting ... pretty dizzy ... and tired. My heart is beating ... too fast.

-Just calm down. It affecting me too. The instructions says it affects everyone differently. Just try to sleep it off. But, I feel great. Damn, I feel pumped. I feel ... I feel ... I feel ...

And, like that Andrew fell unconscious. Meanwhile, Jack slowly started drifting off. The last thing his drowsy eyes saw was hair filling up his chest. And, was his stomach bulging out?

Dreams of being in the arena filled their mind, until Jack started coming into consciousness. His body felt heavy and swore. He was feeling the effects of the hard life style of the gladiator's life. Still unable to shake the sleepiness out of his eyes. He rubbed his face, with his hand. His arms felt heavy and strong. And, his hands were rough against his breaded face.

Slowly he moved to lay on his side. As he did, he felt a strange pressure on his stomach move with him. Completing the turn to his side, he felt his stomach extend far beyond his body. At this point, Jack quickly sat up and finally forced himself awake. He stared at his naked body, as his clothes were ripped around him. The sight of his belly and and moobs blocked anything underneath his gut.

He looked to the body next to him. Andrew, also, got fat and hairy. But, not as fat as Jack, now was. It also seemed like Andrew's new body had a height advantage, which helped him look slimmer.

Jack got off the floor and ran to the nearest mirror, his body jiggling with every step. All though he took up more space, the world around him seemed a bit bigger. He saw his reflection and screamed. His fears were confirmed. He was fat, short, and looked way older. The loud rough deep gladiatorial scream woke up Andrew, and he shot straight up.

-What ... what! What going on! Wait Jack ... what going ... is that you? What up with my body?

Andrew was now exploring his stocky body.

-What the fuck dude! You got the wrong package. This has to be some kind of joke costume. Why am I so fat and short compared to you. I thought I was supposed to be the better one.

-No it can't be wrong, I made sure. These are supposed to be authentic gladiator costumes. I'll call up. Something had to go wrong.

-You better. We can't go to the frat party like this. The costumes are the only thing that fit us, now. I'd be fine showing off my body if we were fit. But, I don't want to walk around shirtless with this gut. Not to mention, the fact that we look way to old now to be at a college party.

Andrew called the costume company. He explained what happened and the mumbled voice started answering his questions.

- So, what did they say?

- Okay. Don't be mad.

-Why...?

-Well there is nothing wrong with the costume. This is how authentic gladiator look like. Apparently they were all fat vegetarians. In fact, it seems like your current body type made for the best gladiator. It's seem to be a common misconception that they are buff, because of Hollywood. And, if we wanted to be hot gladiators we should have ordered the Hollywood gladiators package.

-Damn this fucking sucks. Shit! Well we can't go to the party now. I guess I'll post mates us some bigger clothes. How old would you say I look. 45? I guess there gotta be something a middle aged man can do on Halloween. Maybe a bar or something. I mean we still gotta make the most of tonight. I guess it will be kinda fun. I mean we won't be this age for another 25 years and tonight we will be able to legally drink. It's kinda like seeing our future selves, but hopefully I won't get this fat.

Jack started laughing. Andrew, who remained quiet, started up again.

-Well ... um .... there is actually more. Remember don't get mad. I'm sure we'll be able to laugh about this later.

-What!? What are you talking about.

-Well ... you see ... this authentic package is mainly bought by people you work in areas were this body is best suited for. Like gladiator impersonator, construction worker, or any other person who wants to be a big beefy guy.

-Yes ... and ...what?

-Well ... these type of people need the costumes for more more than one night. So, they sell the transformation liquid in a bundle.

-What? So we are stuck like this for a work week? Are you fucking serious. We have class tomorrow. I have test. I can't take it looking like a completely different person.

-No not a week. We were supposed to take a drop. That would have lasted a 24 hours. But, the jar has enough drops to last a year. So, we are stuck like this, at least until, next Halloween.

-What the fuck! What are we going to do? We can't stay like this?

-I know ... I know. But customer service is going to handle it. This isn't the first time this has happened. They got a connection with witness protection. So, for a year we are gonna have new lives. But, ... um ... there also might be a chance that we are stuck like this.

-What!?

-Like, I said it affects everyone differently. We drank a whole jar. Costumer service said most people, in cases like ours, revert back to normal. But, some also change permanently. We won't find out until next Halloween.

Jack felt tears welling up in his eyes. HIs body was shaking with rage. He was mad at Andrew for not researching enough. He was mad at himself for wanting to do this in the first place. He hated his new body. Even being in Andrew's new body would have been better. These strong emotions were rising to the surface.

Jack Slammed into Andrew. Their skin pressed against each other. Suddenly muscle memory took over, as the bodies wrestled against each other. It was like a dance these two bodies practiced for a life time. It just felt natural. They way their skin touched and the power of their bodies filled both men with passionate aggression. Finally, Jack was able to pin down Andrew. He looked into Andrew's eyes and smiled lovingly.

-I win again

Jack leans down and begins kissing Andrew. They moan as their bodies and tongues rub against each other. Suddenly they both snapped out of it.

Jack quickly gets off of Andrew

-What the fuck was that?

- I don't know it was like our bodies went on auto pilot. This must been something these bodies have always done. You know it wasn't strange for gladiators to have sex with each other.

-oh shut up!

They both just sat in silence. There bodies sore and heavy. Both men now looked at each other in a different light. In their new bodies they found each other extremely attractive. They minds were screaming no, but the urges in their body were getting stronger. They both got up and faced each other. Their bellies were pressed against each other. And before they could continue their love making there was a knock on the door, as two police officers came in. They came to escort the two men to their new lives. Their futures where unknown, but the two men were happy they had each other.

#male body swap mischief #body swap mishief #weight gain #body swap

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bedbellyandbeyond · 5 years

Text

Gainer, Part 2

(Sort of a One Shot Story Post 2/3)

Another two weeks later and Jeffrey was starting to notice more changes in his body. At first he'd only been gaining weight in his midsection but now a good look in the mirror showed his thighs were rounding out a bit and his hips had widened. He hadn't really heard of other gaining channels talk about their hips widening but he figured it just made sense to accommodate the extra weight. His weight gain had started to pick up and in the last two weeks he'd outgrew his pant size easily. His belly was so round and his skin taut. He expected his middle to be squishier but it was just tight, like when others did water inflation video. Maybe that's what the powder did, help him retain water in his stomach. It accounted for the fact that nowhere else was really getting any bigger, just his ass. While it was a little unexpected, he was loving every bit of it. All he'd really wanted was a belly so the rest didn’t matter so much.

He had a field day buying new clothes. Bigger pants were a must but he wanted to keep his shirt pretty tight to show off his belly. If they rolled up, it was just a testament to his growth. For the option of modesty though, he got a couple large sweaters he could pull on when he needed, but he knew he’d only really wear them if he got cold. On one of the odd days he and his cousin were actually home at the same time, Ollie chewed him out for basically eating through their shared fridge. They'd argued a bit and his cousin called him a fatass, which pretty much ended the argument since Jeffrey was just so happy to hear it. He promised to pay for his own groceries from then on. To cover the costs, he took extra shifts at work. He stopped going out as well to keep a straight head at work and because he'd started feeling a lot more tired these days. He figured it might be a side effect of the growth powder, or just exhaustion from work now that he was lugging around extra weight. Could also be a combination of both. Now that his weight gain was advancing, he'd become a lot more popular online. He was getting close to being able to really earn some money off his channel so he tried to come up with new things to try to keep the attention going. He started a couple livestreams where he stuffed himself silly with his new found cravings. His most popular livestream was called 'I stuff myself with peanut butter in ramen for 2 hrs'. It also had the most dislikes he'd ever seen because so many people were disgusted by the combo but it was just a testament to his fame. “So, I have some cool developments,” he said, one night in a video. Ollie was home and trying to sleep in the next room so he felt like he had to whisper. “I got…Dun dunna nah! Cankles!” He chuckled as he lowered the camera to his swollen ankles. “My work shoes fucking suck right now, but yeah… I think this is dope. My whole legs are thick. Some of you guys have joked that I look pregnant. Hah, yeah, wouldn’t that be something? Baby Heff…” He slapped his belly. It jutted out now like he’d swallowed a whole grapefruit. “Which one of you handsome beasts wants to be my baby Daddy?” He laughed a little in embarrassment. “Anyway, yeah, as we saw earlier in this video, I now weigh 122.5 lbs and my belly measures in at 33 inches. I’m on my way to hefty! Back hurts a little from the weight but we make sacrifices for the ideal bod, right? Subscribe to HEFFrey! Later!”

A week later, Jeffrey was at work when he had an unexpected visitor. He was a cashier at a local knick-knack store so most of the people who came just looked around and left, so he spent most of his time sitting on his ass, reading articles on his phone. It made sense that he didn’t notice the guy until he was at the counter with a pair of oven mitts with moose printed on them. “Is that everything?” Jeffrey asked as he scanned the item. “You are doing well. Your growth is beautiful.” He recognised that voice and looked up from the mitts to find the tall pale stranger again, staring with his wide sun coloured eyes. “D-ude…” Jeffrey beamed. “I fucking owe you one. That powdered stuff worked dreams! I’m like, fucking inflating. Look at this shit…” He came around the side of the counter and squeezed the sides of his belly. “You can touch it if you want.” The stranger smiled and placed a hand on the underside of Jeffrey’s stomach. Immediately, pleasure shot through the entire length of Jeffrey’s body and he nearly creamed himself. His knees trembled as he looked up at his visitor. “What the fuck was that?” Jeffrey asked through a suddenly salivating mouth. “Is there a back room in private?” the stranger asked. Jeffrey blinked, then acted without saying anything. He went to the front, locked the door, flipped out the closed sign, and dragged him to the manager’s office. The manager was pretty much never there on week days so it was empty and Jeffrey didn’t hesitate to throw his shirt off and press his lips onto the stranger’s. The next thing he knew, he was entangled with the strange man on his manager’s desk, his whole body hot, sweaty and nude. The stranger had a hand over his stomach, stroking it gently. “It is time for departure,” the stranger said, pulling his hand away and sitting up. “I must go.” “Geez… Really?” Jeffrey said. “After a fuck like that, I almost want you to marry me…” The stranger just smiled a toothy grin and got off the table. He did up his pants, pulled on his shirt and walked out. Jeffrey panted and got up after him, trying to pull his boxers back on in the process. “Wait a sec! I don’t even know your name!” The stranger was already at the door by this point. “That is unimportant.” Then he disappeared into the street. The moose mitts were gone but there was cash on the counter.

Another two weeks and Jeffrey was living the dream. On his way home from work one time, a guy had actually offered him a seat thinking he was pregnant. Jeffrey wondered if he came off as a girl too since he never could grow facial hair and he was quite petite but he shrugged it off. He had other things to be happy about. He’d actually started getting revenue off his channel, it was so popular. He could no longer see his dick past his stomach without a mirror and even his chest had started puffing out. He’d named his tiny moobs Bub and Bo and liked to run his hands over them to feel their sensitivity. His speedy weight gain had left stretch marks webbing the sides of his belly so he’d started filming videos of himself lotioning up his big round belly. “We are week seven after taking that growth powder.” He was just squeezing some lotion onto the top of his bulbous belly. “I am fucking fat and I love it. 136 lbs and 39 inches around. Some of you think my weight is really low, but I’m not gonna lie, I’m a short dude. At 5’6”, this is pretty big for me. I mean, I did like a google search, and the average weight for a dude my height is supposed to be, like, around 130 lbs, but I’ve always been skinny so like that extra 24 lbs since the beginning of this is so awesome. And I mean, I got the belly to prove it. You can see it. It’s out there, Internet.” His stomach was now nice and soft so he switched to baby oil to give it a nice shine. “I just want to keep growing like this forever. Imagine where I’ll be in a couple months. I’ll look like a house.” He leaned back in front of the camera to give them an underbelly perspective. “The underside... God, it's so sensitive. I'm so horny all the time now, but like if you rub under my belly, expect to be in my bed for a little while. Like, fuck dude. You can probably already see me getting a boner, can't you?” He sat up again and patted his belly. “A lot of the belly gaining videos on here have like no talking... I think I probably talk the most. Oops. But you guys like it, right? Heh heh. I like talking to you. It's like I have an internet of boyfriends. And girlfriends, I'm sure some of you might be ladies. Or, you know, otherwise. I don't try to discriminate. I'm gay AF but anyone can watch my videos. Just hopefully not my aunt. Haha. Okay... I think that's it for this video. Subscribe if you haven’t already. Later.”

Part 1 Part 3

#mpreg #Jeffrey #oneshot

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pangtasias-atelier · 5 years

Note

That bakery AU story with Keaton and Kaden absolutely fucks, so let's add the other 2 fluffy boys to Corrins collection of feedees with a sequel of that involving Ranulf and Yarne pretty please!

I don't know why but all the beast FE are great for weight gain stuff.

Also, thank you so much! The Kaden&Keaton bakery was my favorite prompt so far! And this one also ended up being a lot longer than I expected.

Corrin’s daily routine is pretty fixed.

Wake up early, begin baking, bring back some for Kaden and Keaton. (It was more around a lot) Head back to the bakery to open and then take breaks to check up on Kaden and Keaton. Rinse and repeat.

His bakery was becoming a community fan favorite as more and more people kept coming back. Each time just a little bit bigger, Corrin was ashamed of it but he loved it. So now he could comfortably keep the bakery closed every Sunday and focus on Kaden and Keaton.

He stopped renting our from his old place and chose to move in with Kaden and Keaton, the two had pooled in their money to somehow buy a whole house. On the edges of the city, it was a great deal which Corrin was thankful for.

But even with a day off, the bakery was becoming a huge chore for just himself. He needed help and soon. So it was on one Saturday that he posted a help wanted sign on his bakery.

—-

Yarne sighs as he stretches his back out on a park bench after another failed interview. Despite his glowing resume, most places seemed to never call him back. Probably ‘cause I’m a taguel, Yarne ruefully thinks. And those that did call him, found his conversational skills a bit lacking.

“I’m a cook. It’s not like I need to talk to others.” Yarne mutters into his hands. He always had a fear of public speaking but he needed a job. Putting his panic on hold, Yarne checks his phone when it vibrates.

Checking the notification, he smiles when he sees a new job listing for a bakery. Seeing that interviewing in store would be faster, especially with the bakery two blocks away, Yarne sighs before heading to the location. Maybe he’ll be lucky this time.

—-

Corrin wipes the counter while there’s downtime. He finally has a lull in customers after a nearly packed store since the morning.

He jumps to alert when he hears the telltale jingle of a customer.

“Hello, I’ll help you by the counter.” Corrin pauses when he sees bunny ears on his customer. Taguel are exceedingly rare. And this one is extremely adorable despite the fact he looks like he wants to run away.

“Oh, h-hi.” Yarne clasps his hands in front of him. “I saw that there is an opening and I wanted to speak to the manager.” Yarne asks.

Corrin smiles as he sees such a quick response. “I’m the owner, Corrin. Pleasure to meet you.” Corrin smiles as he sees the prospective employee.

“I’m so sorry, I thought-” Yarne stutters as Corrin interrupts him.

“It’s okay. Do you have a resume?” Yarne smiles at Corrin’s lack of care of his noticeable features, his ears, tail and abundant hair ignored. Yarne produces his resume from his folder, the paper still crisp after his failed interview earlier.

“This is impressive!” Corrin compliments, reading Yarne’s years of experience. And cute to top it off.

“Thank you.” Yarner nervously says. He lets out a sigh of relief upon Corrin’s next question.

“When can you start?”

—-

Yarne may not be the best cashier, but he’s an amazing baker Corrin finds out. He’s helped create new goods. Corrin finds it adorable seeing the taguel’s obsession with carrots, but the customers love it, so there’s no harm.

Trying new recipes includes a lot of taste testing, and while Kaden and Keaton were always happy to participate, they happily gobbled everything. So Yarne ended up trying a lot of his creations before deciding they were good enough and then having customers try them.

All that taste testing was showing up on Yarne. Yarne followed Corrin’s recipes to a t and he took to using Corrin’s secret ingredient as well. Though Yarne didn’t really understand what it was for, he just knew that it made everything taste better.

It seemed to have the same effect on Yarne as it did to Kaden and Keaton, Yarne’s body clinging to every ounce of weight. Yarne was evenly distributed, he would be slightly more apple shaped, Corrin could predict. He already got his uniform in a larger size. An embarassing event for him, and a hot event for Corrin.

They always had leftover bread, so Yarne was allowed to take some home. Corrin only deemed it fair that Yarne be compensated as much as he could be, business was positively booming and his life was much easier with an extra hand.

Yarne at first took nothing, then he grabbed a bit before taking a near dozen home each day.

—-

“Yarne?” Corrin walks to the backroom, Yarne currently washing dishes and utensils from the mornings bake. Corrin gets a good look at Yarne’s plush size, up another uniform size.

“Yes, Corrin?” Yarne asks as he washes the dishes, struggling to wash off some persistent starch.

“I’m going to need you to watch over the store for a bit.” Yarner barely avoids dropping the glass bowl as he fumbles with it. He jams to the water off as he stares at Corrin.

“I- um- I don’t th-”

“I will be two blocks away. If anything happens, don’t hesitate or worry to call me.” Yarne swallows as he tries to calm his nerves. “You’ll be paid extra of course. And don’t worry what happens, I know I’m asking a lot from you.” Corrin calms Yarne down.

“Okay…” Yarne says, his brain already regretting that decision.

“Thank you so much.” Corrin pats Yarne who turns bright red. “Don’t forget to call me if anything happens. You’ll do great.”

Yarne heads to the front of the store and sighs when he sees no one. He waves goodbye to Corrin. He doesn’t miss the bundle of boxes he’s carrying in his hands.

Standing at attention, Yarne waits for any customer. He’s thankful that Corrin was at least nice enough to put him charge after lunch hour.

The half hour nearly over, Yarne smiles as he cleans the counter. He was worried over nothing.

Cheering when he hears the bell ring, he greets Corrin. “Hey Co-” Yarne’s words get stuck when he sees it’s not Corrin. Instead it’s a cat, the person’s eyes both different colors.

“I heard there was a job for cashier.” The stranger says as he leans against the counter, looking up at Yarne.

“Uh, yes. Let me call the owner.” Dialing Corrin Yarne mentally cheers when Corrin picks up right away concerned about him. “Everything is under control. But, there’s someone asking about the cashier position.” Yarne pulls away the phone when he hears Corrin yell, saying he’ll be there soon.

“He says he’ll be here soon.”

“Thanks. Guess I found a good employer that’ll hire beasts like us.” Yarne blushes at the cat’s directness. “I’m Ranulf.”

—-

“Thanks for stopping by!” Ranulf waves goodbye as he leans against the counter, his moobs squishing against his flabby arms. “Hey boss.” Ranulf waves as Corrin enters from the backroom.

“Hey Ranulf.” Corrin greets back.

Today was the third week of Ranulf’s job and Yarne’s fifth week. Corrin couldn’t ask for better employees, they were great at their job and the two were nice to each other. And they were cute to boot.

Corrin could see that Ranulf took to the take home extra rule much more than Yarne. Ranulf was already sporting a beginner’s belly and the overall chub to go with it.

Done baking, Yarne also comes out the backroom. He sits down as he wipes the sweat. Ranulf notices the way that Corrin looks at him and Yarne. His coworker had gone up a size since he started.

Corrin adjusts the bread and deserts on display when Ranulf calls him.

“Hey boss?”

“Yeah Ranulf?”

“How’re you still single?” Ranulf smiles when it garners a reaction from both Corrin and Yarne. Corrin nearly hits his head as he stands back up, blushing.

“I’m not single.” Corrin quickly responds. Ranulf doesn’t miss the way Yarne lightly frowns, and truth be told he’s a bit upset too.

“That’s a shame. Why don’t you ever bring him around?” Doesn’t mean he won’t continue teasing his boss.

“It’s more of an open relationship with them.” Ranulf tries to register what Corrin was said. He wasn’t expecting his boss to be like that.

Yarne blushes from Corrin’s straightforwardness.

“Open as in, all of you, or individual?” Ranulf questions some more. Yarne stammers upon Ranulf’s question.

“Th-that’s awfully personal!” Yarne blushes.

“I’ve been in open relationships before. I wouldn’t mind trying out another one.” Ranulf winks at Corrin, the intent clear. Corrin turns as red as his eyes.

“Could be either. ” Corrin blushes. “I need some air. You two can close for today.” Corrin tosses the keys to Yarne and escapes.

“Now you know to not give up easily.” Ranulf chastises as he closes the display case.

“You have no shame…” Yarne says, his hands on his ears.

“C'mon, you think he’s cute too. So help me clean up. The usual rush will start in a bit.”

The two prepare for the rush and once the stores usual operating hours end, they both take home two boxes of goods for themselves.

—-

Corrin sighs as he lies in bed. Most days off are peaceful but he couldn’t help but think about what Ranulf said. He does like him and Yarne. And he has talked it over with Kaden and Keaton and they’re okay with it.

But two boyfriends already felt excessive. To have four! The thoughts always bring a smile and a blush to his face but still. He needs to think about it.

—-

About a month goes by after Ranulf’s inquiry. Ranulf had the decency to let it go, Yarne was too embarrassed to bring it back up, and Corrin was still trying to decide.

That decision kept getting harder and harder as he saw his two employees getting bigger.

Yarne seemed to eat his feelings away, more and more goods ended up going to his house at the end of each day. The secret ingredient’s effects far more potent on beasts than humans, Yarne ballooned out. Baking was becoming harder now, it was tiring for the growing taguel.

Corrin wasn’t sure but he felt as if Ranulf was always looking at him. And whenever he looked his way, he’d see Ranulf devouring a snack when there were no customers present.

The backroom was not made with the intent of heavier set people getting there; Yarne’s body is closing the gap between the doorway and himself. And he’s closing it fast. Corrin wasn’t sure but he assumed Yarne was getting near 500. Yarne now has to tuck in his shirt to stop his stomach from showing. His shirt conforms to his stomach, the U shape present standing or waddling.

Ranulf looks like he just made it to the 400’s. Like Yarne, Ranulf’s fat shifted across relatively equally, but unlike Yarne, Ranulf is a tad bit more pear shaped. His chunky ass is seated on a chair by the register. Despite his size, Ranulf seems to get bolder, more and more compliments showered on Corrin.

Standing was becoming an issue for the two of them.

“You come up with a decision or something?” Ranulf asks Corrin.

“Hmm?” Corrin tilts his head, unsure of the question.

“So are you open or not? You’ve been starring at me and Yarne for a long time.” Hearing his name, Yarne waddles to the front, his thighs brushing against the door.

Corrin turns red, not expecting this so soon. “I’m open to another relationship.” Corrin says, his face red. “With both of you.”

Yarne nearly chokes on air; Ranulf smiles, a tint of red on his cheeks.

“I knew you’d make the right choice.” Ranulf waddles and flips the sign to close. He grabs Corrin and Yarne and leads them to the back room. He sits Yarne down and grabs a chair for himself.

“What’re-” Yarne asks Ranulf only to be interrupted by a cake brought to his lips.

“You’ve been wanting to feed us since you met us huh? Well, I’m waiting.” Ranulf leans back into his chair as Corrin brings a slice to his face as well.

Yarne blushes as he chews. Whatever words he has planned get ruined by more sweets fed to him.

“You like it too, just look at you.” Ranulf says to Yarne, looking at his fat body. “And so do I. See, this benefits all three of us.”

Corrin nods his head as he feeds them both. He wonders how he’ll find other employees once Yarne and Ranulf become immobile. But that thought fades away as he savors right now.

#fat emblem #male weight gain #male wg #feeder emblem #my writing #fat!yarne #fat!ranulf #fat!kaden #fat!keaton #fat!fates #fat!tellius #fat!awakening #this was really fun to write too #this is longer than the first one holy shit #Corrin's bakery au

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tragicbooks · 7 years

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These 5 hilariously ridiculous rules are why our tax system favors the rich.

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Since the first federal progressive income tax was introduced in 1913, most Americans have fairly assumed that, come mid-April, the more money you earn, the more money you pay.

Rage! Photo via iStock.

But, oh boy, does it ever not work that way.

Examples of stupendously wealthy people paying hilariously low percentages of their income in taxes aren't hard to track down. See, for example, Warren Buffet paying a lower tax rate than his secretary or Donald Trump paying an effective tax rate of 25% in 2005 — far lower than the top marginal rate that year of 35% — despite earning $150 million.

If the tax code had been designed by, say, a coalition of teachers, construction workers, and fry cooks, things might be different. Unfortunately, the laws determining who pays what and why are written by members of Congress, who, as of 2012, had a median net worth of just a wee bit over $1 million. From their perspective, it's not hard to see that "How can I structure the tax code to make buying gas and going to the doctor a little more affordable?" might be a less pressing question than, say, "Should solid gold busts of Ayn Rand be deductible?"

To be sure, many rich people do pay more in taxes than middle- or working-class Americans, just less more than they might otherwise. And it's hard to blame the wealthy for taking full advantage of a system designed to benefit them. Don't hate the player, the saying goes, hate the game.

The Game probably pays a lower effective tax rate than you. Photo by Eva Rinaldi/Flickr (cropped).

But the game, such as it is, is rigged (SAD!).

So while most of us prepare to part with around a third of our hard-earned cash trying to decide if it's legal to write off as a business expense the $13.79 in tissues we bought to wipe away our tears, here are some of the rules that make it easier for the wealthy to play.

1. There's a tax break for vacation homes.

Let's say you live in a tiny apartment in a major American city, paying your landlord hundreds, or even thousands, of dollars a month to sleep in a glorified coat closet. You typically don't get to write off your rent on your federal taxes.

Your rent. Photo via iStock.

But if you were among those privileged enough to have the means to buy a house or condo or downtown triplex with a sweet view, you would get to deduct the interest you'd pay on your mortgage.

"OK sure," you might be thinking, "People who can buy houses are generally doing better financially than those who can't, but there are a lot of homeowners in America, and I hope to be one someday." And that's true, so far as it goes.

If you're really doing well, however, one house might not be enough. Sometimes you just have to spring for that little fixer-upper in the Poconos or that sprawling beach compound in the Outer Banks or that $90-million condo on 5th Avenue.

So close to the Apple Store! Photo by Andrew Burton/Getty Images.

In that case, you get to deduct the interest on the mortgage for your second house too!

As far as tax breaks that favor the already-pretty-damn-favored are concerned, the second home deduction is, alas, one of the more egalitarian, as it advantages both the only-sort-of-rich and the ridiculously rich — and you can only write off a total of $1.1 million in debt. Furthermore, the rule doesn't apply if you're so rich you just buy the house outright, nor does it apply to the third, fourth, ninth, and 12th homes owned by your average Gates, Bloombergs, and Zuckerbergs.

But the fact remains that taking out mortgages on more than one house gets you federal tax relief, while renting a studio apartment, mobile home, or infuriatingly twee tiny house doesn't.

Thanks to the U.S. tax code, it owns to own.

2. If you're rich enough to buy a yacht, you can probably write off a big chunk of it.

What makes a house a home? A cozy reading nook by the fire? Happy memories? The love and affection of all those you hold near and dear?

According to the U.S. tax code, if you can eat, sleep, and pee in it, it's a home — which means that this:

Photo by Myrabella/Wikimedia Commons.

...counts as a home, making it eligible for the mortgage interest tax break.

Some politicians have tried to exempt yachts from the second home deduction in recent years. It hasn't happened yet, partly because there are an absurd number of ways to get out of paying your full share of taxes on your yacht. Some states go out of their way to make superboats more affordable to your average Koch brother, DeVos sibling, or Soros quintuplet by capping the amount of sales tax you have to pay on them.

(L-R) George, Brad, Benghazi, Obamaphone, and #HillaryDid9/11 Soros. Photos by VCG/Getty Image, Spencer Platt/Getty Images, Eric Piermont/AFP/Getty Images, Sean Gallup/Getty Images.

Even better, if you rent out your yacht to slightly less wealthy people some of the time, you can usually deduct the whole purchase price and some of the insurance and maintenance fees as a business expense.

Pretty sweet! You should probably get a yacht!

3. While people who earn high salaries pay more in income tax, many wealthy people make a lot of non-salary income, and that's taxed at a lower rate.

If you're a single person making $1 million in salary, you're paying the top federal income tax rate — which for 2016 means 39.6% on every dollar over $415,050. That's way lower than it was in 1944, when the top rate was a whopping 94%. It's even lower than just over 30 years ago during the early years of the Reagan administration, when the top earners were paying 50%. Still, it's a solid chunk of change. Mercifully, for many super wealthy Americans, only a small portion of their annual income comes from working at an actual salaried job.

Enter capital gains!

"Money?" "Money." "Money money." "Money?" "MONEY!" Photo by Drew Angerer/Getty Images.

The best part about already having a buttload of money is that your money can make you even more money. If you're rich, you can take the cash you already have and invest it — in stock, or real estate, or apps called Moob that deliver fish bones to elderly Methodists, or what have you. And the best part? The cash you make when your assets post a gain is taxed at a mere 15-20%. That means if your trust fund does well, or if your 15th home increases in value, you might pay a lower tax rate on that gain than a nurse's aide pays on her $18/hour salary.

If that tax rate seems unfair, then you obviously haven't heard about the Newtian Pository. It's a philosophical concept I just made up that means "hahahahaha screw you and your 'job' that pays you a 'barely living wage.' If you want to get ahead in life, stop crying and own a landfill, or a Monet, or a bunch of Google, you dingbat!"

4. Rich people who own a lot of stock don't have to pay taxes on it if it increases in value — as long as they die before selling it.

Teddy is survived by his son Teddy Jr., his fifth wife Polankia, and a $75 million portfolio. Photo via iStock.

This is called "step-up in basis," one of those purposely complicated phrases used to obscure a pretty simple concept that would send poor people in the direction of the nearest flaming pitchfork store if anyone ever decided to, you know, actually explain it clearly.

So I'm gonna try to do that, by way of a totally hypothetical example.

Imagine you're a hard-charging New York City real estate billionaire type — "Ronald Bump," let's say. You buy 100,000 shares of stock at $1/share. To do this, you lay out $100,000 — an entire life savings for some, but chump change to a member of the Bump dynasty.

Let's say you, Ronald Bump, get lucky, and over the next 30 years, the stock increases in value to $100/share. Your $100,000 has magically become $10 million! If you sell it, you'd net a cool $9.9 million — but you'd pay taxes on it (albeit at the previously mentioned, already ludicrously low capital gains rate), leaving you with a mere $7.4 million or thereabouts.

But let's say you don't sell, and one day, when you're out grabbing a caviar bagel with gold leaf cream cheese, you get hit by a bus.

The Bus of Tragedy. Photo by Adam E. Moreira/Wikimedia Commons.

The bus really does a number on you, flattening your legs, rib cage, and most of your vital organs. Then, trying to determine the cause of the light whump that momentarily inconvenienced its passengers, the bus backs up, pancaking your head. Finally, seeing no cause for special concern, it speeds away, running you over a third time, knocking your body into a ditch to be eaten by crows.

How horrible. You're dead now.

Because you're dead, your son — let's call him Ronald Bump Jr. — inherits your giant portfolio. When he sells it, he only has to pay taxes on any gains the investment makes beyond the $9.9 million — regardless that the stock was originally purchased for just $100,000. He can go his merry way a full almost-$10 million richer, convinced of his own singular brilliance, free to hunt endangered mammals and approvingly reply to racists on Twitter with the comfort of a nest egg to make his economic anxiety disappear.

And the meritocracy triumphantly soldiers on.

The bottom line, if you hold stock until you die and pass it on to your kids, spouse, or golden retriever, neither you, nor they ever have to pay taxes on the value it accrued in your lifetime. Pretty sweet!

5. A lot of rich families don't have to pay taxes on the money they pass on to their heirs, even though there's a tax theoretically designed to make that happen.

"We repossess about 379 of these bad boys a day. Mwa-ha-ha-ha!" — the government, probably. Image via iStock.

To hear anti-tax advocates tell it, millions of hardworking Americans are subject to an evil "death tax," whereupon soulless government brownshirts descend en masse to rip the family farm away from Junior not nine seconds after Ma and Pa's untimely death in a freakish tumbleweed accident. It's the sort of thing that gets decent people riled up, demanding answers and installing electric fencing around their property. How could Uncle Sam be so heartless? So cruel? So greedy?

The thing is, most Americans aren't wealthy enough to be subjected to the "death tax" — more properly known as the estate tax. If you leave a small retirement account, family home, or a couple of used toasters and $50 to your kids when you pass away, the IRS won't send you an invoice.

The tax only applies to estates being passed down that are worth over $5.4 million. So unless Ma and Pa's farmhouse looks like this:

Photo by Government and Heritage Library, State of North Carolina/Flickr.

You're probably not going to see a tax on it.

Yes, super rich people — your aforementioned Gates, Bloomberg and Zuckerberg dynasties — do have to pay estate taxes, and thank Zod. And, yes, it's good that middle class families don't have to pay it. Meanwhile, lots of pretty rich people (albeit not Gates, Bloomberg, or Zuckerberg rich) are making out great under the current system, even as activists try to do away with the tax altogether, because the net worth limit for when the tax kicks in is so high that those families don't have to pay anything at all either — which allows dynastic wealth to keep on piling up.

As recently as 2004, the estate tax kicked in at $1.5 million. The current limit of $5.4 million is, frankly, a crap-ton of money to be able to pass down tax-free.

Even without such a high estate tax threshold, kids would be able to keep using the heirloom kitchen appliances long after their parents are gone.

Unfortunately, with the limit currently in the stratosphere, it also means that Junior can keep up the Kobe beef farm as he rides his platinum-hulled tractor into the sunset.

Considering all the deductions, loopholes, and advantages already in place, it's sort of weird that Congress' next priority is to reduce the tax burden on the wealthiest Americans even more.

After Republicans wrap up their will-they-or-won't-they dance with the American Health Care Act, Congress plans to tackle "tax reform," so-called because it "reforms" more money into the pockets of rich people. Among the proposed changes to the tax code: lowering the top income tax rate from 39.6% to 33%, lowering the corporate tax rate to 20%, and completely eliminating the estate tax.

Someday son, much of this will be yours, tax free! Photo via iStock.

But as we've seen numerous times these past few months, America doesn't have to let it happen!

Calling your representatives worked to scuttle the first go-around of the AHCA, and it can work to put the kibosh on the current tax reform plan too.

It won't be easy. But after helping kill a suspect federal law, and finishing and filing your taxes, you'll definitely have earned a nice vacation.

May I suggest buying a yacht?"

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socialviralnews · 7 years