#ohime frost | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peeppeephellofatface · 7 years

Text

I was way too excited and impatient to post this to spellcheck and it’s too late to do any editing right now. Here you go, six little unedited pieces ranging from short scenes to mini-fics ID

As mentioned before, several ideas were from friends’s fics and one from a confession that was submitted a few weeks ago.

1.Gordon tries peanut butter.

2. Three words. World is Mine.

3. Gordon got too competitive.

4. Flying Scotsman joins in the fun of getting covered in chocolate

5. Henry pets Gordon in strange places

6. Mal cries and eats some bread. This one is pretty sad and dark, similar in tone and story to the first fic I ever did here.

"Here, try some"

Without any other warning, he poked the spoon into Gordon's mouth. It was an unfamiliar nutty taste and even odder texture, the consistancy of sticky frosting. He wasn't entirely sure how to react to it. But after initial hesitation he eagerly sucked it off the spoon, leaving it virtually spotless when Henry tugged it out of his mouth. He was not expecting the stickiness to be as much as it was and found himself mouthing awkwardly at him as he tried to figure out how to swallow it.

"Would you like some more?"

He looked down at the spoon, skin crawling at the idea of sticking it back in.

"I'd really hate to contaminate the whole jar by doing this. Wait, no- this is better."

He dipped three fingers into the peanut butter jar and brought them up to Gordon's mouth, letting him lick it off them. He found it a little odd, but understood his reasoning well enough and playfully tickled his fingers with the tip of his hot tongue and sucking on them a little as he lapped off the peanut butter, making Henry very flustered. He tried to hide the awkward smile stretching across his face with a yawn, but his heavy breathing from excitement made his hand waver a little, something that was very obvious to Gordon.

"Like that, don't you?" ---------

Mallard couldn't get into the backroom. Someone must have locked it- but who? Was it some visitor? He knew Hammy and the others were in their usual spots, still in their engines.

He pressed his ear against the door and heard something. SInging. Terribly, shrill singing. Perhaps even worse than his own. It was a sound that could only be compared to a songbird impersonating a four-year-old while being strangled in an earthquake. He wasn't sure who even had a voice that could go that high. Perhaps it was one of the smaller engines clowning around. They could be childish like that at times.

Still, he was getting hungry and wanted to get a snack from there. He rummaged through his pockets again before finally finding his key, crumpled up in a chocolate bar wrapper. While it did seem rude to interrupt this singer (if they could even be called that), he was getting cranky fro hunger and opened the door anyways.

What he saw was both completely unexpected, but also hardly surprising.

"SEKAI DE ICHIBAN OHIME-SAMA~"

Admittedly he couldn't tell who it was for a few lines due to cringing so hard from the horrible noise. And he did at the worst possible time. The song paused for a short instrumental break after the last "Hey baby" and Flying Scotsman inhaled sharply before letting out an eardrum-shredding squeal of a scream.

"Thank you, thank you very much!"

He turned around, to realize that he had a very real audience, of one very unamused Mallard, currently glaring at him in a mix of irritation and pain.

"I have two questions. ... WHERE IS YOUR DIGNITY, COUSIN? And.... HOW DID YOU EVEN FIND A COSTUME LIKE THAT IN YOUR SIZE?"

"Let an engine have a little fun, Mal. Nobody can see me in here anyways."

"They sure will know something's up when you shatter all the windows in this museum."

"Anyways, it's not really in my size anyways. It's just the largest one I could find online."

Mallard gave him a harder disapproving look. It definitely was too small for him. A few inches of grey skin poked out from under his very tight top. His long boots dug into his pudgy thighs and if the sleeves hadn't been detached from the main portion of the top, he would never have been able to get it over his shoulders.

"You look ridiculous."

He poked at his exposed muffin top.

"But it is rather fun to do this "cosplay" thing-in private of course. It's a little snug, sure, but it does emphasize my curves, if I may say so."

He flipped a teal pigtail over his shoulder.

Mallard sighed and shook his head.

"Well, have fun, I suppose. Do not let word of this leak out under any circumstances, you udnerstand? You'll embarass the whole museum with your antics."

"Perhaps if you tried it, you'd understand."

------------------------------------ "Why must you be like this Gordon?"

He remained silent out of spite and pain.

"James couldn't get through half the carton. Why didn't you quit when it was obvious you'd won?"

He curled up a bit more, rubbing his aching stomach. Perhaps he should have let up on James once he'd given up.

"You didn't need to clean out the whole thing AND dig into a whole new one to make your point and now you're stuck like this until your stomach settles down!"

He groaned.

"You know I get rather competive when challenged liek that. There's no way I'd let that small fry show me up. I... probably did go a bit far, though. In hindsight, that did seem a bit cruel and unneccessary. And having to be rubbed and comforted by you.... like some kind of injured animal. It's embarassing... Oh Gresley, why did I do that?"

"Oh, please, don't get emotional on me. I'm a real embarassment too with my past and all. We can both be embarassments together. I'm really sorry I came off as so callous."

He tugged his soft, limp body closer into his chest and wrapped his arms around his belly, stroking it gentle to comfort him. As much as he hated to admit it, he secretly liked seeing him so vulnerable like this. He liked having this power over him. He also relished in the opportunity to rub his fat middle, something he;d fantasized about for ages. He hugged him even closer and pulled his head back onto his shoulder, feeling his full, powerful, thighs compress against his own. He gently kneaded his soft flesh as he started to relax in his arms and his breathing became less pained and heavy.

---------------------------------- "Where on earth did you get this idea from, Scotty?"

"Mm, a certain someone else in the museum."

SHe had just finished feeding him, but he'd had even more plans. She was squatted over him as he was lying down, shirtless, letting her dribble chocolate sauce on his bare belly and chest, teeth gritted in excitement and anticipation. The chilled liquid made him flinch was surprise as the first drops landed on him, but then he relaxed.

"Well, time to clean up our mess, isn't it?"

She knelt down over him and brought her head up to his chubby stomach, glutted from the feeding, then pressed her face against it as she slowly began to lick the chocolate off. Just as the cold had startled him, the heat of her tongue did as well, but he sighed in satisfaction as felt her soft lips lapping at his grey skin, creeping up to his chest from the upper portion of his belly. As she worked her way back down, she lightly stroked his swollen, tender, middle. He squirmed in pleasure under her as she worked her way down, squeaking a little when she hit a particularly sensitive spot. She paused a bit before sucking the last bit of chocolate off the flesh right his navel, before kissing him all over his tummy a few more times, snuggling against its warm, gurgling form.

--------------------- His legs were going numb from Gordon sitting on his lap. But it was worth it to feel his heavenly thighs press against his own.

Henry reached for another brownie to feed him, but accidently elbowed him in the small of the back in the process. He expected him to jolt and complain about being bumped but instead, he shivered in delight, then awkwardly looked around.

"Could you perhaps.... do that again?"

Henry gave him another firm bump in the back, and he gasped in delight.

"You like that, I suppose?"

"Oh yes, I do."

"DO you like this as well?"

His free hand reached up and stroked him under the chin, trailing up the soft edges of his cheeks. He sighed. It creeped up one side, squeezing it gently every inch or so, and he subconsciously leaned his head against the hand, rubbing against it a little. Then he felt an aggravating tingling sensation at his forehead. Henry had put down the brownie and held a finger right between his eyes, a hair away from the spot directly between his eyes. All he could do was remain very still, unsure what exactly he was attempting to do. His fingers lightly made contact, then slowly slid down the slight curve of his nose. He shuddered and squirmed, but Henry lightly increased the pressure of his touch to keep his face still. He could feelhis breathing getting quicker and heavier and the tension in his jaw with the hand pressed against his cheek. As suddenly as he had begun, his finger slithered off the end of the bridge of his nose. He stared in disbelief for a few seconds.

"....Coul you do that again as well?"

"Of course."

-------------------------------- He couldn't sleep. He couldn't keep his mind of it. Something was eating at him, and the only thing he could think of to rip his mind from it was eating itself.

Mallard formed in front of his metal body and hobbled over to one of the backrooms. The one with the freezer. He desperately clung to anything he could feel in the darkness of the NRM, praying that he wouldn't fall on his way and get stuck out of his body until someone found him in the morning. Fortunately, he knew the way well, from many a midnight trip to it.

A blinding light met him when he swung the door open, overwhelming his vision with purple spots. He slammed it shut.

"Dammit, forgot the freezer was on top."

Chilled air blew out. The right door. He wove between half-eaten contianers of assorted flavors of ice cream. Scotsman's, of course. Finally, he felt a more familiar shape in the back and pulled the frozen loaf of bread out. Good thing too, as his hands were going numb from the cold and his poor circulation.

He fumbled with the twist-tie and placed the loaf on a plate, then stuck it in the microwave after being blinded with another burst of light. He just kept running on autopilot. He'd thought that freezing his bread would make it last longer and keep him from getting into it like times like this. But obviously, a force inside him was determined to jump all the fences if it meant getting getting some irresistable wheaty goodness.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

He whipped the door open to silence the noise. He didn't want anyone hearing him. He had to sit and suffer in silence. Now defrosted, he mindlessly clutched the bread for warmth an felt himself folding down into a heap on the floor. Just as mindlessly, he sank his teeth into the crust of its heel, savoring the taste for too short a time before swallowing it to give him the satisfaction that force really wanted. He found himself tearing away chunk after chunk of it, getting crumbs all over himself and the floor around him. He didn't care. He just wanted to consume. Soon half of it was gone. He craved more and wasn't going to stopa fter one, so he clumsily grabbed and heated up another loaf from the freezer and crawled back to the floor with both of them in his hands.

He shoveled in the last of the half-eaten one, mind numb. As his other hand came up with the remaining one, it brushed against his stomach and it hit him. He realized what he was doing. He could feel how it was bulging more than usual from all the bread and started to cry, realizing what he was doing to himself. But he continued to take bites of bread between tears of fear and increasingly, pain. The taste anf feeling of gulping it down was irresistable to him. He couldn't stop, though he hated himself for what he was doing.

"Oh Gresley, I'm only going to get worse the more I keep doing this. Ooough, it hurts."

Both the physical pain and knowledge of what he was doing to his body wracked him. He soon wouldn't be able to just blame being stuck on display for getting fat like this, but his own loss of control of himself. It was humiliating and terrifying, feeling like he was losing his old self and increasingly becoming like that gluttonous Scotsman. There were only crumbs left now and he craved more, but his belly hurt too much to want to get up and retrieve more bread from the freezer. All he could do was tend to his bloated stomach and hope he would be able to recover by morning and slink out of here without anyone noticing.

But someone had noticed.

"Mal, are you in here?"

He shuddered. It was Duchess of Hamilton. He curled up tighter, wanting to disappear completely. He couldn't let her see him like this.

"Oh dear, you look like a wreck, Mal."

She squatted down beside him and stroked the side of his face, notcing the trail of crumbs and his the bulge of his torso.

"I never knew you did this too... Let me help you out a bit."

She loosened his pants for him to give his belly a little more room, and rolled up his shirt a little so she could rub his glutted, gurgling, tummy. He covered his face with his hands in embarassment at the realization of how soft and stuffed he really was down there and the feeling her of her touching him in such a tender place.

"It's okay, Mal. You should get over the discomfort in a few hours and there's no lasting effects of it. At least that's how it's been with Scotty."

"Ugh, don't compare me to that pig at a time like this..."

"Shh, it's okay, Mal. Please don't keep secrets like this away from me, okay? Whatever prompted you to do this probably shouldn't be kept bottled up this way. Would you be willing to talk about it with me? I'll keep it a secret if you'd like, of course."

"I guess."

He sighed. Her touch was gentle and soothing.

#pphfffics #tubbyducky #flyingfatface #henry #gordon

8 notes · View notes