#the weight fic

[allfattenedup]

Part of a wg story I found in my drafts:

· · ─────── · 🐷 · ─────── · ·

"If you'll let me, I'll make sure you never stop feeling like this," you whisper, suddenly tender, kneeling on the couch next to me, halfway to straddling.

"Like what?" I ask, voice rough with want as I look down. I've never been able to eat myself this big on my own. I've never even seen myself this big. My cheeks burn as I carefully feel the heavy sides of my new gut.

"On fire," you whisper, watching me explore what you've done to me. "Every nerve lit up.

"You're great, and this is..." My head falls back in pleasure against the back of the couch, hands pressed to either side of the belly that doesn't feel like mine. Heavy and full. So, so big. "..this is incredible. But if we keep doing this, I'm going to..." I bite my lip. The thought is hot. Too hot. Way way too hot, too dangerous. I can't let myself get swept away in it. "This was supposed to be a one-time thing," I protest half-heartedly.

"I know." You nod, sweetly massaging a roll, and I gasp, face crumpling in ecstasy. "And it can be... if you want it to." "No." The word comes out to my dismay, but I can't keep it in. This can't be the only time we do this. The thought of it slipping through my fingers makes my voice urgent. "No, please. Just... a little more."

"Okay," you coo, kissing down my cheek, my slightly soft jaw. "But you know that if you keep seeing me, you're going to get fat, right?" Your breath is so hot on my ear, and you nip at my earlobe. "You're going to get very... very fat."

My head spins. My belly throbs. I can't breathe. "...yes."

"Are you ready for that?"

I swallow, and decide to answer honestly. "I don't think so."

"But...?"

"But I don't care." The desperate need in my rough whisper alarms even me.

You lean forward and kiss my nose. We're so close, I can feel the heat of your body radiating into mine. "Thank you for being honest," you whisper, and your hand moves excruciatingly slowly from gently rubbing a roll, around to settle on the straining front of my belly, and you place your palm flat, slowly beginning to rub circles. "You don't have to worry. I'm taking care of you now. I'll make you nice and fat, and if you get embarrassed, I'll make you feel good. Okay?”

“Okay.” I gasp, arching up what little I can into your hand.

“And if you get nervous - about how fast you’re changing, or any of it - I’ll just push a nice treat past those lips and you’ll remember you’re my docile little fat pet. Won’t you?”

“Yes.” "We'll get you a nice heavy belly," you promise, sliding the rest of the way onto my lap, sharing it with the gut you've already started to put on me, and drag over the bag of chocolates. "Don't you worry."

[ichxraaa]

chubby reader who is discouraged cause they’ll never experience a belly bulge meets demise when their boyfriend eavesdrops their call with a friend, worried that maybe that’s something they (the boyfriend) would be into

his cock so far up bullying your cunt as you need to open your mouth to try and breathe while your eyes roll back with the pure raw strength that is fucking you against the bed, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come, but he doesn’t care, all he cares about is the way your ass feels and looks as he thrusts into you and the perfect rhythm of the squelching lascivious sounds as he pistons inside you.

“you shouldn’t worry about stupid shit like that, i will fuck you so deep and good that you will feel me inside you for days”.

why is this toji, and bakugō and gojo in a way more condescending approach, and also porco, cause you know he’s savage, also eren cause he lacks delicacy and of course yaku cause he has no filter and no intention of letting you say something like that ever again.

[softartemisart]

temple to a god of hedonism that gradually changes those inside to best live lives of pleasure and feasting

if you visit once, and stay for only a few minutes, you might get out with only a little extra softness on your frame, easy enough to work off. if you stay for much longer, well...

theres a growing hunger in your stomach, despite not eating that long ago. but it's a temple to a god of parties and feasting - there's plenty of food available. the dishes only seem to grow more aromatic the longer you stand near them and, when you cave and try a mouthful, it's unbelievably delicious.

you're so taken with the taste, you don't notice what's happening to your body. your stomach bloats from your gorging, and then softens into a wobbling belly that tests the durability of your clothes, hanging lower and lower towards your thick thighs. leaning over the table for another plate, your ass sticks out behind you, round and cellulite-ridden. your figure is soft, swelling, a picture of indulgence.

and it's not long before the servants of this god come and show you another kind of pleasure. warm hands make contact with sensitive skin and you moan through mouthfuls of rich food. they guide you to a soft chair, lean you back, make sure your every want in this moment is fulfilled. one continues to feed you all manner of decadent desserts. several more attend to your body, removing the remains of the constricting clothes you entered in and then kissing, massaging, rubbing every growing, jiggling inch of you. your chest is squeezed, nipples toyed with. your gut is oiled and played with. once they're done teasing you, one hefts the blubbery mass up while another finally reaches between your legs.

the next day, you wake up in one of their luxurious beds, the most well rested you've ever been. you're free to leave, of course. but as the heavenly smell of breakfast finds your nose, you also notice the new set of temple robes at the end of your bed, inviting you to join their ranks

[calmlb]

hc that Dazai made a point of calling Chuuya small when they met because Dazai was used to being the small one.

like, finally there was someone shorter than him. because let’s be real, Dazai was barely taller than Chuuya in Fifteen.

i think people forget how small Dazai was too— not just in height, but also in weight. He was underweight in Dark Era, but in Fifteen & even at present he's barely within the healthy weight range for his height. he was constantly described as a twig in Fifteen, and almost every time he's introduced in the light novels he's called lanky, slender, etc.

[growmydarling]

you knew already that you'd been getting rounder in the middle. but life gets so busy and you had been getting into a comfortable rhythm of life, not noticing how things about your body were changing. at the back of your mind you idly noticed you had to tug your shirts down a little more often. a little more grunting or sighing when you got up out of a chair, or walked to the car. but, it didn't really reach the front of your thoughts. not until your coworker started making comments.

"i'm stopping at the break room for more coffee. you want another donut, big guy?" you blinked dumbly at them, half smirk on their narrow face. you nodded after a pause. a few minutes later they drop off the biggest apple fritter in the box, and a paper cup with coffee. you discover after a sip that the coffee is laden with half-and-half and sweet as a frappuccino.

later that week, you drop a pen while chatting in a small group at work. you kneel to grab it, huffing a bit as you lower yourself down. they snort and say, "don't split your pants! when's the last time you've seen your feet?" your cheeks are bright red by the time you raise your face to meet their gaze. an electric light sparks behind their eyes, and your pupils dilate.

now you can't deny what's happening. in the mirror at home you wobble your soft pecs, turning into little tits that sag gently. you tilt your thickening neck to peek at your ass, disbelieving that all that creamy flesh is actually attached to you. your coworker certainly didn't miss it! you had been wondering why they kept insisting on walking a few steps behind you on your way to meetings and back to the building from your (increasingly indulgent) lunches together.

you realize they may be contributing to your sudden weight gain. do you confront them about it, or do you subtly let them know that you see what's happening? do you continue to play dumb, seeing how hard you can push yourself in front of them, ordering extra milkshakes or bringing up every time you feel a hunger pang in front of them?

[mortiskiller]

Pignapped

Content warning: Contains violent language, physical harm, non-consensual feedism and other acts. This is just a story, don't be weird.

A commission for @collegefatty10

He was on the way back to the car after grabbing a pizza. It was routine at this point in his life. Eating all day without regard to his ever-increasing weight had led to some interesting eating habits. A breakfast sandwich in the morning had become three sandwiches with hash browns and two doughnuts. Lunch steadily grew into a multi-hour affair with trips to multiple drive-thru visits, door dash orders, desk drawers filled with snacks, and not to mention a new habit of pre-gaming before dinner. Driving to get his pizza led to stopping for fries, or nuggets, or a combo meal, or all of that, before he picked up his next greasy calorie bomb. This routine made his day predictable, pigs are simple after all. The same places and employees watched him fatten from the low 300s to his heaving 430 pounds. Day after day, pound after pound he kept ordering more. As his waddle slowed, his gut hung lower and lower, his face getting red and sweaty from the 20-foot walk from the car to the pizzeria, he was an easy target.

I had seen him months before on a lunch break. My eyes shot open as saw a hanging lard pile of a man puff his way into McDonald’s. It was a passing horny thought that I would see him again, maybe add it to my mental bank of images and memories to jerk off to later. Yet, he kept coming to the same places again, and again, and again till it was too much to resist. I mapped out his route, timed him as ordered, and ate his feasts. Noted how he favored his right leg as he waddled, his arms struggling to carry the ever-increasing amount of food he ordered. As I watched him, I couldn't help but notice the way his right leg bore the brunt of his weight, the limp a constant reminder of his indulgent lifestyle. I wondered how long he had been living like this, how many times he had ordered a pizza and not once thought about the consequences. I knew he would be easy to take. Easy to keep docile, dumb, and growing.

I waited till the moon was just a sliver in the night sky outside his favorite pizzeria. Checking my watch, as it ticked over to 8:40 pm, his sedan pulled into the parking lot, the front driver’s side sitting low as my soon-to-be pet pig drove. I watched from my hiding spot as he struggled to haul his massive frame out of the driver's seat, grunting and wheezing with the effort. The scent of greasy pizza wafted through the air as he waddled towards the entrance, his heavy footfalls reverberating on the pavement.

Once he was safely inside i made my move, slipping silently into the shadows and following him at a distance. Inside, he placed his usual order - a large meat lover's pizza with extra cheese and a side of garlic knots. His eyes gleamed with anticipation as he paid for his meal, oblivious to the predator lurking in the darkness behind him.

As he turned to leave, I struck swiftly and silently, wrapping a thick cloth bag over his head. He struggled weakly for a moment before I pushed him back to the car. With ease, I kicked his right knee from the back and watched as he tumbled into the truck. His muffled moans of confusion and fear barely registering over the hum of the engine. He was mine now, another victim added to my collection.

I paused for a moment, considering my next move. He was a strange yet fascinating addition to my collection, and I relished the thought of having him under my control. I could see him squirming in the back, his heavy breathing and muffled cries a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor.

I parked the car in a secluded spot, away from any prying eyes. The moon now a hazy glow, bathing everything in a sickly light. I approached the car, opened the rear door, and lifted my newest prize out of the vehicle.

He was heavier than he looked, his bulk making it difficult for me to handle him. But I had experience, and I was patient. I carried him to a nearby abandoned warehouse, the cold metal of the hinges echoing as I pushed open the door.

Once inside, I placed him on a table, still wearing the cloth bag over his head.

"Hey, buddy," I cooed to the pig, my voice low and sinister. "You know, you're not going to like what's going to happen to you. I've got some pretty wicked plans for you. I'm going to fatten you up, relentlessly, until there's barely anything left of your dignity or self-esteem. You see, we're going to use you, and we're going to pleasure you in ways you can't even imagine."

The pig let out a soft grunt, the sounds muffled by the cloth bag still securing his head. I chuckle, a dark and twisted sound that reverberates through the cold, empty warehouse. Taking a step closer, my shoes scraped against the rough concrete floor.

"I've been collecting things like you for years," I whispered, running his hands over his captive's plump body. "I've come across so many of your kind, just like you, loving your comfort and your food. And I've had my way with them all. Oh, I've had so much fun, and you're next on my list."

As I approach the pig, who is still covered in the bag, he lets out a soft whimper and shakes his head, trying to free himself. His body wobbles with each attempt as he struggles against his bonds. Belly aching with his last meal the movement causes an unintended blech from beneath the bag. Swiftly, I remove the bag from the pig's head, revealing a face red, sweating, and fearful. The pig's eyes are wide and terrified as he stares up at me, taking in his new surroundings - cold concrete walls bare of any decoration, a king-sized bed next to a small bathroom, and a large full-body mirror.

"Look at you," I say with a hint of disgust mixed with fascination, "just look at what you've become."

"You know what you are now?" I ask quietly, “You are my plaything, a toy, a fat weak blubbery toy!” my digs deep into his belly hang, bringing a painful whine from the pig’s mouth.

"You are mine, completely and entirely," I continue, my voice growing menacing, "and I'm going to do whatever I want with you at my command." The pig tries to struggle again, but his movements are weak and pathetic. "Oh, but first things first," I say, walking over to the bed where I had left a set of handcuffs.

I restrained the pig on the bed, at once reluctant and terrified to yield to such volition.

"You'll get used to it, trust me," I say, my fingers tracing curious paths over his bulging form. "Maybe then you'll even enjoy it."

With the pig cuffed to the headboard and footboard, I began to study him, taking in every last curve and fold of his form. He looked so helpless and vulnerable like a lost child in desperate need of a firm hand to guide him.

Noticing the glaze that had settled over his eyes, I thought, 'Now we're getting somewhere.'

Methodically, I began to examine him as if he were an exotic creature, taking note of each flaw that had been revealed by my rough handling.

He would be my plaything, my plump and innocent pig. And I would use him, treat him, and abuse him in ways that would break him completely. I would fatten him up and weaken him until his body could no longer bear the weight of his own flesh. I would use every inch of this vulnerable creature, making him my own personal toy.

As I stood over him, watching him squirm pathetically on the bed, my mind raced with all the ways in which I could degrade him. My hands moved over his flesh, feeling him shake beneath my touch. I could feel the warmth of his skin, the softness of his fur, the weight of the fat that filled his body. It was all so delicious, so intoxicating, that I found myself growing hard at the thought of what I could do with him.

My fingers brushing feather-light against his skin, teasing him with every passing second. It was then that I decided upon the next part of his degradation. With a smirk playing on my lips, I retrieved a bucket from the floor, its contents sloshing against the sides with every move I made. It was filled to the brim with a half-gallon of lard-filled slop, designed to both fuel his growing hunger and make him feel even more vulnerable in his restraints.

As I drew closer, the pig let out a small whine, his eyes widening in fear and anticipation. He knew what was coming. I brought the bucket towards his mouth, and with a practiced hand, I tilted it so that the contents would flow easily. A funnel was inserted into his mouth, and with a cruel smirk, I watched as the slop began to pour down his throat, filling him to the brim.

End of Part 1.

[justaz]

morgana and arthur have a sleepover when they’re teenagers and morgana brings out this summoning spell and arthur is all “magic?!?!?! :o thats wrong we cant do that” and morgana just says “pussy.” and then arthur is helping her set everything up. they light the candles and chant in the old tongue and then BOOM a figure appears but it’s not the mighty god emrys the text talked of, it’s just a boy a couple of years younger than arthur, scared and confused, who answers to the name merlin rather than emrys. while they’re arguing, merlin goes stiff and is like “do you hear that?” and then trails out of morgana’s chambers in a trance and obviously morgana and arthur follow him and they end up way beneath the castle where theres a fucking dragon???? now emrys, the once and future king, and the witch are chillin w a dragon and talking about destiny. none of them are happy about this btw

[extra-stout-stories]

Special Delivery

As a growing gainer's mobility diminishes, his regular delivery order takes an unexpected turn. (SSBHM to USSBHM feedee, gender-unspecified fat feeder, no explicit sex. CW: Immobility, bariatric tube feeding, brief moment of dubious consent.)

Written at the suggestion of a friend, here's a special delivery of XWG and immobility/bariatric kink. I've left the gender of the feeder unspecified so that gluttons of all persuasions can enjoy it. Eat up, and reblog if you like it!

--

He paused to lean on the doorframe of his apartment building, huffing and puffing, before swiping his key card to open the door.

The bus stop was only about 250 yards from the entrance to his apartment, but the walk was getting more and more difficult. By the time he made it out of his apartment, down the elevator and to the bus stop, he was red-faced and sweaty, wheezing and gasping, his gigantic belly rolling and wobbling as he struggled to squeeze himself into a seat.

Fortunately, there was a bench halfway between the bus stop and the building. More and more often, he found himself stopping there for a minute or two or three, pausing to catch his breath and harvest his energy for the rest of the trip.

This wouldn't even be an effort for most people, he thought to himself. But he didn't mind.

He enjoyed it, in fact. For years he had been getting fat on purpose, watching the numbers on the scale rise as his body grew softer and heavier. Other people would be shocked if they knew, but it even secretly turned him on to know that he was getting so fat that just walking to the bus stop was becoming a struggle.

Still, the effort could be a pain sometimes. Like right now. As he passed through the door of his apartment building and into the elevator, feeling his belly quiver against his thighs and leaning against the wall to take some of the pressure off of his knees and back, all he could think about was beaching himself on the couch until it was time to stand up and walk again.

That time wasn't too far off. He had already placed the order when he was riding home on the bus. But the walk from his couch to his apartment door was just twenty feet. And at the end of that walk there would be food.

--

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, the buzzer rang. He took a deep breath, grunted, stuck his arms out for balance and began laboriously standing up from the couch, breathing heavily, pausing occasionally for an especially deep breath. The buzzer rang again. "I'm coming!" Slowly and ponderously, he waddled to the door.

He ordered from this particular fast food place all the time, but tonight there was a new delivery driver. He couldn't help noticing that they were substantially fat themselves, with thick thighs packed tightly into the pants of the driver's uniform, upper arms spilling like dough out of short sleeves, even a hint of belly peeking out from the bottom of the shirt. "Four burger meals, four milkshakes. Three chocolate lava cakes. And a two liter of Coke."

"That's me." He steadied himself on the wall by the door, then reached an arm out and took the bags, managing to slip both handles around his wrist and get a steady one-handed grip on the tray of milkshakes. "Thanks."

There was a smile on the driver's face as he shut the door.

--

It was getting harder and harder to reach the bus stop. He wasn't just pausing for a break on the bench any longer. Now he was stopping multiple times to lean himself against the building next to his, or on the fence that stretched the last few dozen feet from the bench to the bus stop. Then he had to climb into the bus, which was a struggle in itself, and hope that there would be a pair of side-by-side open seats at the front so that he wouldn't have to squeeze his belly in behind another pair of seats.

He found himself looking for excuses not to leave the apartment. It wasn't difficult to find them, since so many things could be done remotely now. And with the money he saved, he could afford to call a rideshare from an app instead of taking the bus. Pretty convenient.

The four burger meals were a part of his regular order rotation, and he found himself looking forward to visits from the fat delivery driver. He swapped out one of his pizza orders and started going for the burgers an additional night or two every week. Once he'd gotten in that habit, he bumped the number of burgers up to five, with an order or two of chicken wings for good measure.

As the driver handed him the last of his order, they smiled, their fat cheeks dimpling in a way he had come to recognize and appreciate. "I saw you trying to get the bus the other day."

He felt his face flush with embarrassment. "Yeah. Usually I take a rideshare, but the congestion pricing this weekend was really bad." He steadied himself on the doorframe and took a deep breath. "It's a pain in the ass trying to squeeze into those bus seats. I'm not exactly skinny."

The driver laughed. "You're a big boy. After all these burgers, who can blame you?" From someone else the words would have been hurtful, but they were said with obvious affection, and the driver was pretty fat themselves.

"Yeah, I guess I am." He grinned and patted his belly. "It's a lot of work hauling all this around. But I don't mind. I promise I'm not going to put you out of business by going on any diets."

Now it was the driver's turn to blush. "I'd miss seeing you. You're my favorite customer."

"Thanks." He hefted the bags of burgers and chicken, struggling to get a steady grip on the tray of milkshakes.

"Here, let me help you with that." The driver reached for the milkshakes, picked up the bag with the two-liter, and followed him into his apartment.

"Whew." He let out an exhausted sigh as he settled back down on the couch, feeling his quivering rolls slowly come to stillness as he sank into his favorite spot. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem." The driver was smiling again. "You know, you could put a bench there. To rest on when you're going to the door." They gestured at a spot between the living room and the bathroom door, where a bumpout for the hall closet made a natural alcove that was just deep enough to fit a bench.

"You know, that's a good idea." He grinned back at the driver. "I don't know what I would do without that bench at the bus stop."

"Or the fence. You must have been there a good five minutes before you got moving again."

He laughed. "Are you stalking me?"

"No! I was stuck in traffic. But I have to admit, I didn't mind the view. You're my favorite customer for a reason."

The driver's phone buzzed. "Shit! I have to get back on the road right now or my next delivery's gonna get cold. I'll see you soon."

As the driver hustled back to the door, he couldn't help admiring how their thick thighs and ass bounced and quivered in their snug uniform.

--

He took the driver up on their suggestion, and was glad he did. His burger binges, on top of all his other binges, were adding some serious weight to his body, and it was getting more and more difficult to walk. He had given up on the bus entirely. Making it downstairs to a rideshare was becoming an ordeal, even if it was pulled up right at the door of the apartment complex.

But he still didn't mind. With the bench in place, he could pause for a minute or two to catch his breath on the way to the door, and that made it not too difficult to order in. He had even put a mirror up on the wall opposite the bench so he could look at his flushed and panting face, the gigantic rolls of his thighs belly, and admire how fat he was getting. I'm so fat I can barely make it to the door, he would think to himself, and then all those hundreds on hundreds of pounds would quiver and shimmer as he shuddered with excitement.

Sometimes he'd spend so long in a reverie that the person delivering the food would get impatient, ring the doorbell again and again. That was when it wasn't his favorite driver, of course. They knew it would take him a while to answer the door. He found himself dropping the other restaurants out of his rotation, going deeper and deeper into the menu of what had become his favorite fast food place. And that driver always wore a smile.

One day they had another suggestion. "You know, it's not that expensive to get a remote door lock. You could open the door with a remote control, or with your phone." They smiled, fat cheeks dimpling, fat chins quivering. "That way I could bring the food straight to your couch."

"You'd do that for me?" He grinned. Their interactions were becoming more and more flirtatious lately. Sometimes he wondered if he should spill the beans and admit everything: that he was a gainer, that he had gotten this fat on purpose, that he looked forward to their delivery visits because he had a crush on them.

"Of course. Straight to your couch. Even straight to your bedroom, if you don't want to get up."

And sure enough, when he had the remote lock installed, they did.

--

It was a typical evening. He woke up from a nap to the bedroom beginning to darken as the sun began to set. He flipped on a light and pulled out his phone. Seven burger meals, six milkshakes, two family-size chicken platters… his mouth was already watering.

As usual, they came straight to his bedside, unloading the bags of food onto the bed right next to him so they would be in easy reach. But today they were rolling something in behind them as well, a large box on a handtruck.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It's a special delivery." There was a look on their face he had never seen before. The dimpled smile was there, a little more mischievous than usual. But there was an intensity in their eyes now, too, a flush in their fat cheeks that was more than just exertion. "Something I've wanted to do to you for a long time."

"For a long…?" He paused, not sure how to continue. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the labored breath from each of them.

"Close your eyes." There was a sudden note of command in the driver's voice.

"Mmmmph!" Before he knew it, there was a hand on his face, roughly shoving. For a moment he felt like gagging as he felt something slip down his throat and something else shoved into his nostrils. He tried to speak, but with the tube in his throat, all he could manage was a grunt. But his meaning was clear. What the hell is going on?

The driver spoke rapidly, their voice husky and heavy. "I know. I know you're a gainer. I know you got this way on purpose. I could see it on your face. In your eyes. The way you looked at the food. The way you looked at me." They paused and took a deep breath. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing. When I'm not doing delivery for extra money, I'm a bariatric nurse. I have this all planned out."

They were in control now. "There's a lot of calories in this tube," they continued, swiftly and assuredly hooking it up to a canister of some sort and turning the valve. "Oil mixed with sugar. Pure calories. Going straight into your stomach. You're going to get fatter. A lot fatter. And quickly."

He thought for a moment about whether he should try to resist. But when he saw the look on the driver's face, he didn't want to.

It was a look of love.

And after all, he had always wanted to be fat.

--

His routine changed again. He no longer bothered leaving the apartment at all. No longer bothered leaving his bed at all. Just stayed in bed lounging or napping, calories flowing effortlessly down his throat. His body continued to swell. Every day, in the morning and in the evening, the driver would visit to clean him and to replenish the canister of formula. Then their fingers would trace across his body, their palms lifting his rolls, their lips and fingertips sending an electric charge through the tender hidden places in his rolls and folds. He grew and grew. Would he ever make it all the way to the bus stop again? Would he ever make it all the way to the door again? If he managed to make it to the door, would he fit though?

No, he wouldn't. He knew that. But he didn't care. He was growing bigger and bigger, fatter and fatter, softer and heavier.

And if he never left his bed again, he would still be happy.

[joshsindigostreak]

The Weight of Dreams

Demon!Josh x F!Reader

Authors Note: Happy Spooky Season everyone!! Lately I’ve been calling Josh a demon as a joke but something in my brain went, “write that down!” and thus this One Shot was born! Hope you enjoy him!

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, 18+, PURE filth, there is a plot but you know what I mean, fingering, penetrative sex F!receiving, unprotected sex (but he’s a demon so?), oral sex F!Receiving, horn play (drew gooden voice, ‘I sure hope it does!’)

Incubi aren’t supposed to have regulars. They’re not supposed to have patterns. They’re supposed to skip around the ether and drop into human dreams like funnel clouds in the sky. Incubi and their Succubi counterparts all have their own agendas, feeding their primal urges since the first time a human fell asleep. If only humans knew the kind of catnip and candy that wafted into the universe from their subconscious. 

In the hierarchy of Hell, Incubi aren’t that far up the food chain. High enough to be a nuisance but low enough that they could essentially do what they wanted. The Dukes, Princes and Kings had more important things to worry about than horny, slumbering humans. 

One demon in particular was more chaotic than most. He was on the younger end for an Incubi, which often led to him shirking the “rules” of his kind in favor of whatever he wanted. He was a fucking Demon, another cog in the infernal machine that lurked beneath the earth. Who cares if he had an urban legend or two attached to his presence? If his equally demonic twin could be referred to as The Hat Man, then why couldn’t he continue on his nightly Hellish crusades and have fun while doing it? 

What’s the worst that could happen?

On this ordinary Wednesday night, he was flitting about town to town, sniffing out any saucy dreams that intrigued him. Not all dreams were created equal, and there were enough humans on the planet that he could afford to be picky. 

He was skating through the sky, invisible to the human eye. The only clue to his presence would be the occasional zap of a poDwer line or flickering streetlight. Power surges often happened if there were too many of his kind around, often confused with their Poltergeist cousins. 

The Demon was about to give up on this and of town and move onto the next major city when he was nearly hit in the face with the force of a dream that made him skid to a halt. Like a bloodhound, he followed the trail to a nearby apartment, easily fitting through a cracked window and into the kitchen. The only sound that could be heard was the low chatter from a television in another room. The lustful energy beckoned him down the short hallway like bait on a hook. 

Oh, this was going to be fun, he thought, a smirk forming on his face.

The only door on this end of the apartment was open, and the light of the television illuminated and flickered into the hall. With silent footsteps, he crept inside to see the source of the arousal that was practically vibrating the walls. 

If only humans were aware of what their energy could do.

The bedroom was tiny and it took seconds to find the source of the intoxicating energy. To Incubi, energy had a taste and a smell that was a touch beyond human comprehension, like trying to see infrared light with the naked eye. It made the demon's eyes threaten to roll back the closer he got to the bed. 

The human, a woman, rolled over in her bed, oblivious to the creature observing her. Her hair covered most of her face, and that’s when she made the most exquisite sound he had heard all night. 

A tight, low, barely audible moan. 

His entire being snapped to attention. He flexed his shoulders and silently walked towards the bed, satisfied he had found just the right dream to drop into. He gazed down at your slumbering form, noting your furrowed brow and pursed lips. He perched on the side of the bed, tentatively waiting for the right moment to drop in. It was more of an artform than even other Demons thought. 

Your television was still on, and the light that projected onto the wall in front of him perfectly silhouetted his small horns that curled backwards on either side of his head. All Demons had horns, and they were as individual as a fingerprint. The more experienced the Demon, the larger and stronger they looked. As an Incubus, his weren’t much to write home about, but he hoped that one day they’d eventually curl around the back of his head like a ram, and maybe if he was bad enough, he’d earn his leathery, bat-like wings similar to the other higher up Demons he knew. 

Slowly, his hand curled around your soft wrist, his head rolling back along with his dark eyes as your dream materialized in front of him. 

A university library? Groundbreaking. 

But there you were, reaching up towards a high shelf for a specific book and looking back over your shoulder, hoping the object of your fantasy would notice. Unfortunately for you, a Demon was in your dream now, and he was in the driverseat.

 

In this dream, your Demon was fully human in appearance. His horns were no longer visible, instead the main focus was his curly hair perfectly styled on top of his hair, and his eyes weren’t their usual black voids, but a dark brown that could see right through you. He slowly walked up behind you, allowing his footsteps to be heard on the hardwood floors. You looked back at him and there was a brief flash of confusion, but it quickly turned into a smirk as you raised your hand above you for whatever book you were trying to reach. 

In dreams, Earth-bound laws and physics didn’t matter, so you were nonplussed when he was suddenly at your back, hands curling around your hips and lips lightly brushing the shell of your ear. One of his hands swept up your side and up your extended arm, his long fingers lacing yours and securing it against the bookshelf. The action had you shuddering against him, your ass perfectly wiggling against his front. 

“Need some help?” He whispered, dragging his lips along your ear as he spoke. 

Another shiver ran through you. 

You turned your face towards him, feeling his breath on your cheek. 

“Maybe a little…,” you purred back at him. 

“Good thing I’m here then,” he said with a clear double meaning. The sheer arousal that was emanating off of you felt like a breath, no, a rush, of air into his lungs. The kind you take in after holding your breath for a long time. A low growl formed in his chest as he used the hand that was still wrapped around your hip to turn you around to face him. 

Even though his natural state was glamoured to look human, his own personal style of thick black kohl rimming his eyes remained, and the way you were looking at him suggested you approved of said choice. Your shoulders melted against the stacks, but your pelvis pushed forwards towards his own. He gladly indulged you and rolled his hips right back, smirking at the way your breath caught in your throat. 

You suddenly found both of your arms held above your head with one of his hands, while the other toyed with the hem of your skirt. 

Because of course you were wearing a skirt in this dream. 

The demon wedged his foot between yours, spreading your legs apart with an inhuman-like grace that had your lower lip sinking beneath your teeth  and staring at him through your eyelashes. 

The scenario was terribly cliched, but there was something about you that made the Incubi intrigued by it. He wanted to see how this played out. 

The hand on your skirt disappeared under the fabric, lightly touching the flesh of your thigh. Another tremble shook your leg. You were so fucking sensitive, it was driving him insane. 

You needed his touch. 

His touch. 

His fingertips drew patterns on your skin as he made his way up to where you needed him most. However, even though he was technically a Demon, he still had a shred of ethics about him, and he paused his hand. 

“Tell me what you want,” he requested in a rough voice. 

Your eyebrows twitched a little at the question, but you answered quickly, “you.”

That wasn’t good enough for him, though. 

“Are you sure?”

Your breathing got even heavier, “yes.” 

With that, he surged forward and crashed his lips onto yours, realizing he himself was dying for a taste too. His hand flattened against your thigh, kneading your flesh before continuing upwards. His fingertips were met with soft lace, and before he could fully toy with it, it vanished. 

He hadn’t been the one to do that. 

You did, taking back control of the dream. 

Oh…

The Incubi smiled against your lips, and relinquished his control over your dreamland. He was officially the passenger now, and he wanted to see what you could come up with. 

With your lace panties freshly vanished, you spread your legs even farther and tilted your hips forward, practically offering your drenched pussy to him. 

The heat he could feel coming off of you had his fingers shaking, and he wasted no time to slide his fingers through your slit. Your arousal coated his digits as he familiarized himself with every crease and fold you had, mentally mapping it out and trying to memorize you. Your flesh was so soft to him, a whimper threatened to escape his throat as he parted your mouth and slipped his tongue inside. 

He teased your entrance briefly, before sliding upwards to your clit. He rolled the swollen bud between his fingers, and he pulled back from your face just far enough to ear you cry out. 

That beautiful sound, he thought. He needed to hear it again. 

It sent a jolt through his body not only in the dream but back in your bedroom as he sat next to you. His hand gripped your wrist a little tighter, not wanting to risk losing the connection. 

His thumb was planted on your clit, sloppily circling it and giving it just the right amount of pressure, letting your mewling sounds and jolts of energy guide him. His middle fingers teased your entrance one more time before slowly slipping inside, enjoying the stretch almost more than you did. You were dripping down his hand at this point, and he wished for a second that he could feel it in person as opposed to in a dream like this, but he brushed the thought away as you threw your head back and gasped as the tip of his fingers curled upwards and grazed your g-spot. 

The cheeky side of him wanted to tease you more, make you desperate and whiney, but you had other plans. Even in your heightened state, you still had enough wherewithal to wait until his fingers curled just right to clench around them and hold them where you wanted them as you grinded back down onto his hand. 

The Incubus’s eyes flew open and he watched you wrench one of your hands from his grip above you and send it down to cup his own arousal through the jeans he had decided on for this dream. He bucked into your hand and bit down on your lower lip, a hint of frustration evident in the strangled sound coming from his throat. He released your other hand to grip what little of the bookshelf he could, while your newly free hand immediately went for the curls at the nape of his neck and tangled them around your fingers. This sent a fresh whine from the Incubus, and his resolve was threatening to give way. Part of him wanted to take back control, let you know who was steering this dream, but the other part of him was so intrigued by your assertiveness that he was this close to completely surrendering to you and drowning in your energy and rendering him pathetic in the eyes of other demons. 

The thumb on your clit increased its speed and your own movements against his hand began to get sloppy. You felt your high bubbling up inside you, and there wasn’t a single cell in your body that was going to get in the way of it. Your walls clenched even harder onto his fingers, to the point where they could barely move but neither of you cared. 

“Come on…give it to me…,” was roughly whispered against your mouth as his thumb harshly pressed down on your clit, and with a cry your vision went white and you shattered around his hand. For what seemed like minutes you convulsed and shook for him, shouting expletives to the ceiling as you didn’t even know his name. 

Now this was when any other Incubus with a modicum of common sense and decorum would swiftly exit the dream and jet off to the next human of the night, but he wasn’t ready to leave. The longer an Incubus occupied  a human's dream, the bigger the risk of them becoming a memory. The standard practice was to give and feed off a singular orgasm from whatever human, and then never see the same one again. That way humans wrote off their naughty dreams as hormonal build ups and mundane desire, nothing more. They’re meant to be mischievous phantoms, not figures haunting your dreams. There were other Demons for that. 

Instead, he continued to breathe raggedly against your cheek as he worked you through your orgasm. As you came down, he reluctantly withdrew his fingers from your core, and popped them in his mouth, wanting to savor your release for himself. 

Your eyes met, and you both seemed to be silently asking the same question of, “who are you?”

He couldn’t leave. He wanted to truly have you. What’s the point in being a Demon if you didn’t break the rules? Who put those rules in place in the first place? They could go fuck themselves. Even if he could only feel you wrapped up around him in a dream and never in the real world, he needed it. 

His still-damp fingers gripped your shirt and nearly ripped it off your head before doing the same with his own shirt. 

His enthusiasm surprised you and you held back a giggle as you took turns getting your clothes off as fast as possible. The Incubus’s lips locked back onto yours, and the faint taste of you still lingered in his tongue. He reached down and gripped the back of your thighs, lifting you easily against the stack. The shelves and books dug into your back but you welcomed it as he lined himself up with your entrance. 

The feeling of his thick head gliding through your folds was brief before he sheathed himself inside you. The force and sensation had you biting down on his bottom lip harder than you should have but you were too focused on the sudden fullness you felt to care. Your eyes were rolled back into your head as you adjusted to him. 

The Incubus inside you was gripping your hips like he was afraid you’d float away if he let go. He thought he had been prepared for this but the softness of your walls, the way you squeezed him, and the force of you biting down onto his lip had him uncharacteristically dizzy. He leaned his forehead against yours, letting his lip rest between your teeth as he remained still inside you. 

You released his lip and whispered, “I need you to move…” 

His eyes darted up to you and bore into yours as he reared back and slammed back in, causing you to arch your back away from the shelves. The Incubus dipped his head and took one of your nipples into his mouth, humming around it as he picked up his pace. 

The both of you pawed at each other as you moved together, nails digging into skin and teeth nipping and biting wherever they could reach. This wasn’t the time or place to go slow, and you both knew it. This dream was driven by need.

It wasn’t long before your second high crept up on you. At some point a hand made its way  in between you and was working your clit feverishly, By now you were a mess of bleary eyes and sweaty limbs. You couldn’t form words as he pounded into you, clinging onto him after giving up the idea you could meet his thrusts. 

“You gonna let me have it again?” He spoke into your ear before leaving an open mouth kiss on the space just under it. “Let me feel it this way?”

Oh, it was inevitable, you could feel the coil inside you tightening up like a spring, and any moment now it was going to snap. 

“I wish you knew how good you f-feel,” a growl rumbled in his chest, interrupting him, “squeezing…me…” 

You tried to respond, but all that came out of your mouth was a reedy sigh. 

“Look at you, dumb for it,” he teased as he tilted his hips, causing his cock to hit an even more delicious spot deep within you. 

It was too much. You were too overwhelmed. Between the tight grip on your ass, the kisses along your neck, the thumb working your clit, and the angle and force behind his moments, you were a goner. 

He felt you tighten up even more first, and your walls started fluttering around him as your legs shook on either side of his hips. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, but you forced your eyes to stay open the whole time. With one last look into your watery eyes, he slammed himself into you one final time before he emptied himself. 

His eyes snapped open, and he remembered where he actually was: in your bedroom. He slowly let go of your wrist, severing the connection completely. 

It was over. 

The Incubus  stood up, backing away from your bed and watching you roll over onto your stomach. He needed to leave. He had been there for far too long. The energy from your dream was still roaring through his body, and your television was starting to flicker because of it. He couldn’t risk being seen. No, that was a rule he could not break. 

“Goodnight, Sweet Dreamer,” he whispered before exiting your apartment the way he came and into the night. 

~!~

That was eight months ago, and the Incubus lasted two weeks before he came crawling back to your Dreamland. That dream was a little more creative, the both of you ending up making out at some nondescript house party, kicking red solo cups out of the way as you backed him up against a wall. 

A week later, you were in some corn maze, and like most dreams it was confusing at first at who was trying to find who, but you ended up jumping on him in the center of the maze surrounded by bunnies and a pumpkin patch. 

A notable one was where the Demon was a rock star, and he had you bent over a couch in some random green room of a stadium. That one was fun. 

He tried, he really tried to keep his visits random and not too close together, but he failed miserably. At this point, he was a reaccuring dream to you, and he was starting to feel bad because you still didn’t know what he was. 

He tried keeping himself distracted by hanging around in a pocket dimension in Hell that his brothers were fond of. It was one they often found themselves at because of the quiet atmosphere compared to the rest of Hell. It wasn’t anything fancy, but a seemingly endless bar where a Demon could sit down, order any little treat they wanted, and relax after a long day. 

The four Demons were sitting at their usual table, catching up and sipping their respective beverages. 

“Are you actually going to drink that, Josh?” His twin teased as the Incubus had been sat at the table with the low ball glass held against the side of his forehead white he leaned on his elbow. The chilled beverage was refreshing resting where his ebony horn protruded from his forehead. 

“Leave me alone,” he mumbled before bringing the glass to his lips and taking a gulp. 

His twin, Jake, snickered across the table, “what’s gotten into you lately anyway?”

Josh gave him a hard look, “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Please. You haven’t been out in forever and whenever you are with us you look like a kicked puppy.” 

“Have you considered that you might be the reason for that?”

Jake’s mouth twisted into a frown, he knew better. 

“Anyway,” Josh announced, trying to change the subject, “we’re here to celebrate Daniel’s promotion!” He turned to his left and gestured at the tall curly haired demon. His newly-grown leathery wings flexed at the attention. He still wasn’t used to having them yet. 

In Hell, certain physical attributes were only obtained from being “promoted.” Otherwise known as making the right deals with the right Demons and having connections. Out of the four of them, he was the first one to achieve wing-status. The rest of them just had their horns that they were born with. 

Josh hoped to have wings one day but it was rare for Incubi to get the opportunity. 

“How do they feel?” The other brother, Sam, asked on Josh’s right. Sam was the youngest out of the four but he had a prowess and drive that made it obvious that his wings weren’t far behind Danny’s. It made the obvious competition between the two oldest twins even more tense at times. 

“They feel great, honestly but they’re awkward as fuck at times.” He looked down as the farthest point of his wings kept brushing the floor from where he sat. 

They settled back down into idle chatter, but Jake was not satisfied with Josh’s earlier answer. He wasn’t going to pry with everyone there, so he waited until Sam and Danny took off for whatever mischief and turmoil they had up their sleeves. 

Jake was flat out concerned with his twin, “tell me what’s really going on,” he pressed in a soft voice once they were alone. 

Josh sighed. Keeping the last eight months a secret from everyone, even Jake, was one of the hardest things he had done. Keeping something like this from his brother was making the situation even worse. 

“I did something…well, I’ve been doing something…” he muttered while staring at the ice cubes of his drink. 

Jake nearly snorted, “of course you have, you’re fucking a Demon for Lucifer’s sake.” 

Josh shook his head, “no…it's not something like that.” He took a deep breath and continued, “there’s this girl, well, human girl, and-”

His twin sighed heavily, “not a human, Josh…” 

Josh gave him a warning look, “are you going to let me talk, Jake?” 

“Fine. Explain.” 

“It wasn’t supposed to be anything, I promise,” the Incubus went on to tell Jake a summary of the last few months, keeping most of the salacious details to himself. But the way his dark eyes lit up as he described you, dropping details he had learned from your dreams, listing parts of your personality that you didn’t show to anyone else due to your subconscious, gave his emotions away.

“She’s just a random human, you’ll get over it and find something else to obsess over,” Jake concluded, not wanting to encourage this. 

“Is that really all that you took from that? I don’t want to get over her.” 

“Are you in love with this human, Josh?” 

The silence from across the table gave the Demon his answer. 

“Does she know what you are, then?”

Another beat of silence, this time Josh swallowed the rest of his drink and sat the glass on the table in a clank. 

“This is not going to end well, man.” 

Josh gave Jake another withering look, “don’t you think I know that?” 

Jake’s eyes softened, as did his voice, “you should’ve told me sooner.” 

“...and get lectured by you? No thank you.” 

“I wouldn’t-,” he sighed, “I wouldn’t have lectured you. I just know how you’ll be if she ends up getting hurt from this. You’re not fun to be around when you’re guilt-ridden. I don’t like seeing you that way.” 

What Josh hadn’t told him, was that you had seen parts of Josh he kept hidden from others too. After the first month or two, your dreams weren’t always overtly sexual. The two of you did talk sometimes, but not a lot. You learned each other’s names finally, and you hadn’t batted an eye at his name since it was so common. The banter you shared was easy; he even made you laugh more often than not. Falling in love with you wasn’t part of the plan, but it crept up on him, and he didn’t have the willpower to fight it. He didn’t want to.

“You’re seeing her tonight, aren’t you?” 

This time he avoided Jake’s gaze, but he answered, “I wanted to, yeah.” 

“Just be careful? Ok?” 

Josh looked up and nodded at his brother, before disappearing from his seat and reappearing outside your house. It was nearly three AM in your time zone, and he knew you were fast asleep. He stared up at the window he had come to know was your bedroom, The television light flickered and flashed. You always needed background noise to sleep, he had learned. 

In a blink he was in your room, staring down at your sleeping form. The slight pout on your lips made him smile. He sat down and took your hand and started to drop into your Dreamland. He had been so focused on you that he had missed the book, “Lucid Dreaming: Easier than you Think!” resting on your nightstand.

The scene before him was charming. Josh found himself standing in a forest, surrounded by green trees and the ambient sounds of nature. The path he was on led to a quaint A-frame cabin in the middle of a clearing. The lights were on inside, and he knew you were in there. 

As he opened the door to the cabin, he found you sitting on a couch with a book in your lap. You looked up at him and smiled warmly. 

“Hey you.” 

He smiled back and made his way to the couch and sat down. You threw your book to the side and moved to straddle his lap, smile growing even wider at being with him again. His hands reached up to cradle your face as you melted into his kiss. It felt so normal to see you again, so familiar, Josh didn’t even sense the change in your demeanor. 

The two of you made out for a good while, before you pulled back to look at him. 

“Took you long enough to get here, you’re a little late tonight.” 

That was an oddly pointed question, but he tried to play it off, “I am?” 

You sat back on his thighs and draped your arms on his shoulders, “Yeah. Normally you’re here earlier.” 

Josh shifted awkwardly beneath you. This was different. You were still you of course, but something was off. He wanted to keep playing along, but he didn’t want to make it worse. 

“You don’t feel real sometimes,” you started before kissing him again. His hands gripped your hips in the way he knew you loved, and he started to relax against you, but you pulled back and asked, “are you real, Josh?” 

He froze, his eyes stared into yours, unsure how to answer. 

“I-”

“They say that every face you see in your dreams isn’t new, that it’s always someone you’ve seen before even for just a second, and I can tell you with confidence that I had never seen you before that night.” 

Oh, shit. You had always taken the reins in your dreams, but not like this. This was more direct. This was…lucid.

He whispered your name, before confessing, “..yes…I’m real…”

You pulled back a little further to get a better look at him, “then what are you?”

This was it. This was when he had to come clean. You had purposefully set a trap for him, knowing he couldn’t resist you. He wasn’t even going to fight it, because it was completely his fault. 

He reached up and touched the side of your face, his thumb finding its home on your cheek, “my sweet dreamer…I-”

“Don’t call me that right now. Tell me the truth.” Your whole body was tense and rigid, as if you were bracing yourself for his answer. A good call on your part. 

He took a few deep breaths, “I’m…I’m an Incubus, love.” 

You stared at him, unmoving.

“Which is a kind of-”

“Demon?” you finished. When he nodded, you scrambled off of his lap and backed away from him, standing in front of the cabin's fireplace. Several different emotions swept through you, “you don’t work for the Devil, do you?” 

Josh straightened up in his seat, “no of course not, He’s very picky about who he works with and there’s no way he’d entertain even looking at someone of my rank.” 

“So Hell is real?” 

“Yes.” 

You looked at your feet, “does that…does that make you evil, Josh?”

His face started to heat up but he explained, “the concept of “good” or “evil” is a very human one, my love. It’s not that simple. Demons…we’re not ‘evil’ in the way humans make us out to be, just like Angels,” he made a face at the mention of such creatures, “aren’t inherently ‘good’ either.” 

“Angels are bad?” 

“I wouldn’t say bad…but they’re annoying to run into. They’re more vengeful than people think.” 

You stood there silently, taking it all in. 

The Demon before you continued, “you can’t think of Heaven and Hell being opposites of each other. They’re more like…different neighborhoods on either side of the same town, so to speak.”

“Well…you wouldn’t be the first Demon named Josh that I’ve met…,” your poor attempt at a joke to break the tension didn’t land very well, but your face softened towards him. 

Now it was his turn to look down at the floor, “if you never want to see me again, I understand and I’ll respect th-”

“Can we only meet here, in dreams?”

He stared at you, “no…I exist in all realms, not just the Dreamlands.”

You sniffed and squared your shoulders, “good. Now let me wake up.” 

The panic set in, you didn’t know that he looked a little…different in the waking world, “No, no you don’t have to-”

But it was too late. The Incubus was catapulted from your Dreamland and sent back to the earthly plane with a force that nearly sent him to the floor of your room. The connection was severed, and you were starting to stir in your sleep and sit up. The room was pitch black except for the glow coming from the television. It cast Josh in a perfect silhouette, but the inevitable was coming. 

You reached for your lamp, still a little bleary eyed from sleep when his voice stopped you.

“Wait, love,” He sounded exactly the same as he did in your dreams, and being able to hear him with your actual ears made your chest tighten and warm. 

“What?” you asked, confused. 

“I just…I look a little different than how you’ve seen me…,” his voice was so soft, almost defeated. “I just don’t want to scare you any more than I already have.” 

“I’m a big girl, Josh.” 

“I know, I know love, I just-” 

You didn’t let him finish before you clicked on your lamp, illuminating the small room. Before you looked up you turned off the tv, blindly pointing the remote at the screen. The only sound you could hear was your own breathing, and his. 

Slowly, your eyes lifted up to look at the Demon sitting at the foot of your bed. He wasn’t so different from your dreams, his kohl rimmed eyes were still their warm brown, his hair was still curly and unruly, the shaved sides accompanied by two black horns-

Horns?

They were black, a little shiny under the light, and curved backwards into his curls. It was certainly different, but they looked perfect with his sweet face. 

“You were worried about your horns?” 

HIs face reddened and he finally looked up at you, “M-my eyes also look different…but I didn’t want to throw too much at you all at once….” 

“Josh, show me.” 

He took a breath, and allowed his true eyes to appear. They were fully black, exaggerated by the kohl that lined them. The combination of his eyes and the horns certainly completed the demonic look, but it didn’t scare you. 

In fact, you felt a little emboldened, and threw your covers off your lap and got onto your knees.  Slowly, you crawled down your bed to him before straightening back up, making him look up at you. The black voids were lined with worry, as if he was waiting for you to scream, run, or both. Instead, you gently placed your hands on his cheeks. He relaxed slightly in your hands. 

“They’re beautiful, Josh,” your comforting  words were referring to both his horns and his eyes. 

This made his shoulders relax and he melted his cheek into your hand, “they’re not too much, love?”

You smiled, “honestly I was preparing myself for hooves and a tail.” 

The Incubus made a disgusted face, “I might be a Demon but I am not a Satyr.”

His tone made you laugh, “ok then. Can I touch them?” Your hand raised towards one of his horns. 

You wanted to touch them? He nodded and cast his eyes down. 

Tentatively your fingertips grazed the hard, ebony surface. The touch alone made him shiver, as his horns were sensitive. It had been awhile since someone had truly touched them like this. 

“Do you like that?” 

He looked back up at you, “yes…” 

Your fingers fully ran up the horn to the tip and back, truly feeling it. You noticed the action had him breathing a little heavier, and you softly wrapped your whole hand around it. The Demon made a sound low in his chest, almost like a purr. 

“They’re really sensitive, huh?” 

“You have no idea…” He paused, “Like I said earlier, if you want me to leave I’ll respect that.” 

You smiled and straddled his lap, facing him straight on now. 

“Kiss me, Josh.” 

He couldn’t believe what was happening. You weren't running, you weren’t scared, you still wanted him. Josh nearly crashed his lips onto yours, relief flooding his system. 

You melted into him like you always did, and being able to feel each other in the corporal world was even better than the Dreamlands. He felt so solid against you, his curls were even softer as you tangled your fingers in them. 

Soon, you felt yourself get pushed back onto your bed, your Demon climbing on top of you. It felt so natural to do so, as you technically had done this with him dozens of times, but this time it was real. You could take your time with each other and actually mean it, as time moved differently in dreams. Now you could feel him minute by minute, and the thought had your heart racing. 

His lips found yours again, and you were both focused on truly feeling each other for the first time in the physical realm. There was no rush, no deadline, no anxiety of the dream shifting or changing, it was just the two of you, in your bedroom. His weight on top of you felt so comforting and familiar. He left a trail of kisses down your jaw to your neck, landing on your pulsepoint and sucking the skin into his mouth harshly. You arched your back and grinded up into him. You felt his lips smile against your skin as he grinded down on you, and his arousal certainly felt the same as it did in your dreams. He hadn’t been exaggerating. 

His hands reached under the raggedy t-shirt you had slept in, before looking back up at you for permission. You nodded and he nearly ripped the shirt off your body, sending it into the corner of your room. 

“Do I look the same?” The question left your lips before you could stop it. 

His eyes swept your form, seeing your hair fanned out underneath you, no makeup on as you often did in your dreams, his breath caught in his chest. He looked over your body, counting each freckle and mole, making sure each and every one was still there. Over the last few months he had memorized them all, wanting the image of you permanently fixed on the back of his eyelids. 

“Even better, my love,” he said sincerely before capturing your lips once again, pouring his built up emotions into the kiss. He then started kissing his way down your body, giving attention to both breasts before kissing down to the edge of your panties. His fingers hooked onto the sides and pulled them down. You lifted your hips to get them off all the way, and they were thrown behind him blindly. 

His dark gaze landed on your pussy, the hunger in his eyes evident as he spread your legs apart. He couldn’t hold back anymore and quickly descended upon your core. His tongue flattened out and spread your folds apart, and the taste that flooded his mouth had him groaning into your body and grinding his hips onto your bed. 

Your breath caught at the sudden sensation, but you bucked into his mouth as his tongue found your clit, needing more friction from him. As he devoured you, the sight of his horns on top of his head sent another wave of pleasure through your body. Curiosity drove your hands to lightly wrap around each of them, pulling downwards slightly to steer his face further into your pussy. Your folds practically fluttered from the force of the moan that left his mouth. 

So you did it again. 

And again.

And again. 

Until you were crying out his name as your orgasm took over. 

Josh barely gave you a chance to recover as he crawled back up your body, using his own magic to vanish the clothes he had on on the way up. His lips greedily crashed into yours, while his hand hooked your leg around his hip. His other hand reached down for his cock, running it through your folds.

The new, yet familiar feeling of is cock at your entrance sent a shiver through you, and you grabbed his face in your hands, “please, Josh,” 

He couldn”t help but be cheeky, “you want it, love?” 

Your eyes narrowed, “show me what kind of Demon you really are.” 

As if it was possible, his eyes got even darker at your request and he slammed himself inside you, nearly pushing you farther up the bed. It was his turn to cry out at the feel of you. His pace was brutal, but it was what you wanted. You locked your legs around him at the small of his back and clung to him while your lips peppered kisses up and down his neck, along his jaw, nipping at the skin here or there with your teeth. 

Your Demon knew you better than the back of his hand, and he was going to prove it before the night was over. He continued to slam into you, angling his hips in the way he knew you loved, grinding his pelvic bone perfectly onto your clit. Your nails dug into his back in response and that spurred him on even more, loving that he could turn you into such a mess this way. 

You were so close, teetering on the brink of your orgasm. One final grind on your clit with his pelvis had your back arching even harder, and you shattered beneath him. Your legs shook and your walls clenched around him. He continued slamming into you, chasing his own high and working you through yours. 

You were starting to come down when your gaze landed on his horns, and a thought ran through your mind. Your hands grasped his face and pulled it down as if you were going to kiss his lips, but instead you bypassed them and flattened your tongue on the front side of his left horn. Josh shuddered violently against you and he twitched inside of you. His hips thrusted one final time before he emptied himself as deep as he could. 

Not wanting to miss your chance, you blew some air onto the wet spot your tongue left behind on his horn, causing him to shudder again as he came down. He chuckled against your chest as he laid his head down, trying to catch his breath. 

For several minutes, the two of you stayed tangled up in each other, not wanting to leave the little bubble you had created. This time, Josh wasn’t forced away from you because of your dream. He could lay there as long as you wanted him to. 

You were too exhausted to even attempt to move, so you relished his weight on you. Cleaning up wasn’t something you ever had to worry about in your dreams, but here in the real world it was an issue, and you felt his release start to leak out of you. 

“Josh…” you whispered. 

He got the hint immediately and slowly withdrew from you, looking down at your combined releases for a second before disappearing into your hallway for your bathroom. Your apartment was small enough that it was the only other door available and he quickly returned with a warm washcloth to clean you both up.

Minutes later you were both back under your covers, your head laying on his chest as your fingers drew tiny patterns onto his skin. He could tell you were trying to stay awake.

“You need your sleep, my sweet dreamer,” he whispered into your hair before dropping a kiss onto your head. 

“Would you be there to greet me?”

He smiled into the dark, “I could…but I like being out here with you better.” 

You let out a yawn and relaxed further into his chest. You reached for his hand and held it to your lips, brushing them against his knuckles before holding it on his chest. You didn’t know what any of this meant for you, but what the Demon in your bed didn’t know was that in the last eight months, you hadn’t had a single nightmare or bad nights sleep, and your intuition was sure it was because of him. 

“Will you stay?” 

“For as long as you want me to, my love.” 

His lips brushed against your forehead one last time before the both of you drifted off to sleep, not knowing what the future held for you both but knowing it was going to be better with each other in it. 

Epilogue: 

One human year later…

“Close your eyes, my love,” Josh said behind you. 

“What are you surprising me with this time?” You laughed as you did as you were told. 

“You’ll see. It's something I’ve been working on for quite some time.” The excitement and pride in his voice was evident. His footsteps came around in front of you, and your brows furrowed wondering what on earth it could be. He took a deep breath, “ok, open them.” 

Your eyes fluttered open and then immediately grew wide at the sight in front of you. There, in your living room, was your boyfriend, your Demon boyfriend, standing proudly with a new pair of bat-like wings protruding from his back. 

“How did you-”

“I knew a guy who knew a guy that was friends with another guy who needed a few favors and I volunteered. I didn’t realize he was a fucking Prince of Hell and he was so impressed by our little mission that he uhh…gave me a promotion.” 

Your mouth fell open, you knew he had been away a lot in the last couple months due to “Demon business” but he had kept parts of it vague. It was probably the one part of him you were still getting used to, but you trusted him enough by now that you weren’t too worried when he was gone for a couple weeks at a time. 

“So what does that mean for you…?”

He took another breath and stepped towards you, slipping his hand into yours, “I’m no longer an Incubus, love.” 

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “well then what are you?”

“Essentially, I collect souls now and not dreams.” 

“Pardon?” 

“When a person makes a deal with a Demon more often than not they sell their souls to them. Basically, when their time is up I get to take them to whomever they made their deal with and they get dealt with accordingly.”

You were still a little skeptical, “that sounds awfully busy…” 

He shook his head, “no this is a good thing, I get more ‘surface time’ with you now! I won’t be away as much.” He was full on grinning now and his dimple sank deeply into his cheek. 

Your eyes traveled from his sweet face to his new wings, the sunlight showing through the thin skin. He flexed them slightly under your gaze, happy you weren’t grossed out by them. Much like a year prior with his horns, you reached forward and grazed your fingertips on the surface of one. It twitched slightly under your touch and you looked back at your Demon. From the outside looking in, it was odd to be proud of your boyfriend's Demonic accomplishments, but you couldn’t help it. You leapt into his arms and kissed him, smiling against his lips as he held your hips and wrapped your legs around his waist.

Who would’ve thought that a Demon would make your dreams literally come true?

Fin

Tag List:  @dannyandthekiszkas , @readyforthegarden , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema, @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne, @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @childinthegardenn , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet , @sunfl0wer-power , @holdingup-fallingsky , @bladenotblaze , @gretavanlace , @lipstickitty , @jjwasneverhere , @josiee-gvf , @peaceloveunitygvf , @musicislove3389 , @gretavanhockey , @gretavanazula

[eddiemunsonspantschain]

The Boyfriend Experience - EM

Author's Note: This is very personal to me. I wrote this about my experieces and facts about myself. Which I know isn't very reader insert friendly but as my friend @boomhauer had said, for all I know, I'm not alone in this. This will be a mini series. Idk how many parts it will have but I wanted to do more than one.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x virgin!reader

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of weight, mentions of being overweight, body image issues, body dysphoria, self deprication, sexual experiences, lack of sexual experience, teasing, angst.

You do not have permission to copy, translate or repost my work onto other sites or social medias. This work is my own and it is owned by me.

Having a large friend group was nice. Nice enough, at least for you. Between the Hellfire boys and the party you were fortunate enough to have many friends. You were close to the party the most over the shared trauma of the upside down and things that go bump in the night. It was easy to be open with them so some topics of conversation didn’t bother you… until certain comments were made. You had never intended to let the information about yourself shift the dynamic of your friendships. At this point in your life, you had reluctantly accepted a fact about yourself when it came to romantic relationships and activities. However, your friend groups learning that you were a virgin even now past graduating high school seemed to change everything. It wasn’t like you wanted to seek out the first willing male participant and ‘get it over with’ as some past friends had told you to do before. You didn’t want that for yourself. It didn’t feel right for you.

The unfortunate thing about it was that no one was into you. That was something you had concluded on your own in your own time. It was either the pudge of your stomach and the squishiness of other parts of your body or simply your personality. You weren’t sure. Maybe it was all of it. You had spent many a time pinching, poking and prodding at your body in the mirror as tears silently slid down your cheeks. Most of the time you avoided reflective surfaces all together as it shattered the illusion of what you thought and wished you looked like. One look in a reflection made your confidence dwindle down to nothing like something small being dropped off of a skyscraper just to shatter on impact at the pavement below. So you wore baggy clothes. Hiding your figure was better than being gawked at for trying to wear clothes other girls, skinnier girls, pulled off effortlessly. The hammer that hit the nail on the head was when you noticed some things. Was it other people’s fault? No, it wasn’t. But when you went out with friends who were deemed more attractive than you and people approached them to talk to them while you stood there, drink in hand. It was hard not to notice. The icing on the cake had been the one time you were left standing at the bar, all your friends off talking to someone in the bar that had approached them while you played with the condensation that dripped down onto the bartop. 

You lacked social experiences. You had never been on a date before, never had a boyfriend either. You had a first kiss at least though it had been a long time ago. How your friends didn’t know this, you had no idea. A rousing game of truth or dare brought this information to light for everyone. The kids weren’t invited as it was an adults only party Steve had decided to throw. The Hellfire boys, Nancy, Robin, Steve, Jonathan and Argyle as well as yourself all sat in a circle with your respective drinks in hand. It had been your turn, so you chose truth, wanting a break for a moment as the dares got more daring as time went on and more alcohol was consumed. Drinking the ‘mega condiment’ as Argyle named it–a mixture of literally every condiment housed in the Harrington fridge–was not on your list of things to drink that night. Especially after seeing Robin gag after taking a sip of it. 

The Harrington house was big enough to house all of you. Not to mention a supplemental bar for when you all ran out of what you brought with yourselves. These ‘adults only’ parties tended to last all night with drinks, food and usually crashing there. At times it was movies or more importantly drinking games that were played at these events. Tonight the stack of playing cards had been retired early in favor of Truth or Dare. Jeff hummed as he thought over what he could ask you. His eyes lit up as he figured out his question. “Who did you lose your virginity to?” He asked you with a grin. It wasn’t uncommon for these question to get more personal and daring the more you all drank. So you weren’t necessarily surprised at the topic but the fact that it had been aimed at you, one of the only single people in attendance. Normally, these embarrassing personal questions were aimed at the couples.

You felt your cheeks warm in embarrassment. As everyone waited for their answer, you simply looked away from Jeff and took a swig from your drink to avoid answering. That was one rule that had been put in place. You could opt out by drinking your drink. No questions asked. Or at least, no requirement to answer.

“Must be embarrassed about who it is.” Gareth chuckled with a small shrug as he drained the last of his beer.

“Or she didn’t lose it at all.” Jeff playfully jokes, but something on your face must have given it away as Jeff’s eyes widened in realization. “You haven’t lost it?!” He gasped.

“How? You’re like… in your twenties.” 

“I just haven’t. Alright?” You practically snapped at Gareth and Jeff.

“Well, have you come close? Like on a date getting hot and heavy with someone?” Steve asked, leaning over to hand Gareth another beer after popping the bottle cap off with his bare hand.

“No… I’ve never been on a date so,” You mumbled into your cup as you took another drink.

“You’ve never been on a date?!” Nancy asked, shock written on her face. “I thought Ethan when we were soph-”

“Yeah. He stood me up and made jokes about it for a week after.” You cut Nancy off with a tight smile. “I’m not girlfriend material, apparently. Now if you’ll excuse me.” You pushed yourself off of the floor and headed for Steve’s kitchen to make yourself another drink. Your cheeks were hot with embarrassment and you could feel tears threatening to breach the barrier of your lower lashes. At times, you could brave the embarrassment of being a virgin at your age. However now again you found yourself longing for something you had not had the privilege of having. Yearning for a connection to someone who likes you for who you are, not necessarily what you look like. When those feelings hit you, it was hard not to be hurt at the realization that you might never have these experiences. You could hear laughter in the other room, the immediate assumption in your fragile state that it was about you. Your lower lip wobbled as you opened the container of cranberry juice, pouring a full glass of it knowing adding more alcohol would make it harder to compose yourself now and you’d like to leave with a shred of your dignity left intact.

“Enough.” You heard Eddie’s voice snap, presumably at the Hellfire boys as he usually reigned them in. You sniffled, wiping at your cheeks quickly before going to grab the hoodie you had abandoned on the back of a kitchen chair earlier. You needed the comfort, shielding your body away before you trudged back into the room of your friends with your mask back on firmly in place.

Since then, things have been different. Your lack of experiences, lack of romance and lack of self confidence were sore spots for you. Some told you you simply weren’t trying hard enough. As if it were that easy to just make people like you. Or want you for more than just what was between your thighs or under your shirt. As if anyone would want to see that. Since the night of the party, the group made it a point to keep certain topics of conversation to a minimum or overall stopping the conversation when you joined the group. As if they didn’t think you would notice. It was hard to ignore that the topics of recent date nights ceased the second you were close enough to them all. With hushed ‘later’s, ‘not now’s and ‘I’ll finish telling you later’s being the main indication when you manage to hear them.

“Okay, I’ll bite.” You sighed as you crossed your arms over the counter of Family Video, looking at Steve and Robin expectantly. You had heard their conversation when you walked in there but when you approached the counter Steve had quickly shushed Robin from talking further. “What are you both talking about?” You asked.

“Nothing, nothing.” Robin waved you off with a smile as she rang up the movie you had brought over.

“I was just telling Robin about my date the other night. After we had dinner we started getting hot and heavy in my car, went to Lovers Lake to have-”

“Shh! Steve, innocent ears! We have to keep her purity intact.” Robin shushed him, smacking him in the chest.

Your face fell. “Excuse me?” You asked Robin in a clipped tone, not bothering to hide your anger and annoyance.

The air had shifted as had the mood. Robin’s face fell as she realized that her joke had not been amusing to you but instead upset you. “It’s just that… No, Y/N. I didn’t mean it like that!” Robin apologized quickly.

You scoffed, pulling your wallet out and throwing cash onto the counter to cover the movie and a packet of Red Vines. “Thanks.” You mumbled, snatching up the movie and a packet of Red Vines before heading out of the store quickly.

—----------

It was movie night. That was the reason for your trip into Family Video that week. The Hellfire group would have a movie night once every week or so. Everyone brought in a movie and you all would decide which ones to watch. You sat on the couch, always having privileges for the couch per Eddie’s orders since in his words: you are the lady here. You sat beside Eddie, sharing your Red Vines with him while he shared his popcorn with you. Since that day in Family Video you hadn’t seen neither Steve nor Robin, actively avoiding both of them. You had mumbled an acceptance of Robin’s apology when she called but hadn’t wanted to see either of them. It got worse though. Almost all of your friends had made a joke about your lack of experience thus far. If there wasn’t a joke about it there was reassurance that didn’t feel so reassuring. Nancy had tried to reassure you that there was nothing wrong with being a virgin still at your age. Eddie, Jonathan and Argyle seemed to be the only ones smart enough to not make any comments about the subject. Something you praised God for. Now it was the end of the week and you were just ready for everyone to move past this once and for all. 

On the screen in front of you was a horror movie. Something you weren’t unfamiliar with. You sighed as you sunk into the couch with Eddie. You watched as two teens snuck away with the intention of having fun with one another and felt your mood sour. You waited for it. Some kind of comment to be passed your way.

“These are always so cheesy and these parts? Boring.” Lucas complained, tossing pieces of popcorn at the screen itself.

“That’s because you’ve never experienced it, Sinclair.” Gareth laughed, nudging the other boy.

“As if he should listen to any advice from you.” Eddie nudged Gareth with his foot.

“I’m full of advice! Good advice!” He argued back with Eddie.

“Suuure you are.” You added, “None of you seem like you’d know what to do anyway. Just fumble and ask where things are.”

“Oh, please!” Freak laughed and grinned at you. “Here’s something we can at least tell you, Y/N.” His tone took on one you would use when speaking to a child, “When a man and a woman love each other, his peepee goes in the hole between your legs. That’s where you put it. In case you didn’t know since you’re still a virgin.”

“Freak, knock it off.” Eddie hissed in his direction.

You didn’t even dignify him with an answer. You stood up, stepping over Gareth and Jeff as you made your way to the door. 

“Y/N?” Eddie called, but you didn’t dare look behind you. Instead, you slid your jacket onto your body, picked up your bag and threw open the door to Eddie’s trailer deciding to leave the movie you rented there.

You hopped down onto the porch, the screen door behind you smacking shut loudly as you bounded off the porch and over to your car. You heard the door open back up behind you and Eddie called out your name again. You ignored him, sliding into your car and peeling away from the trailer park like your ass was on fire. You gripped the steering wheel tightly, ignoring the tears sliding down your cheeks. It was one thing to hear jokes that you were still a virgin. It was another thing to have people demean you thinking you were innocent and didn’t know anything because of it. You weren’t a fucking child. You knew probably more than they did about the female body and what to do. Years of hearing your peers talk about it had been informative enough. 

As soon as you got to your apartment, you shuffled yourself inside and shut the door tightly behind you. You crumbled. You were embarrassed and upset, wanting to just crawl in a hole and forget this week had ever happened. You pulled yourself up, trudging to the bathroom and taking a hot shower before pulling on panties, sweatpants and a tank top deciding to leave the death trap on the floor of the bathroom. You moved to the living room, seeking out a new movie to put on in the hopes it would distract yourself from the disastrous night. You put on one of your favorites before tucking yourself into your couch with your favorite fuzzy blanket and pillow. You only got through about fifteen minutes of the film before there was a knock on your door. You ignored it, favoring pretending you weren’t home or didn’t exist than face whoever was on the other side of that wooden barrier. The knocking came again, harder and more insistent this time.

“Go away!” You called out to the door. You assumed it was Freak, Gareth and Jeff. No doubt sent there by Eddie to apologize for upsetting you. He never let the other guys bother you too much. 

“Open up, sweetheart. It’s me.” The man you thought had sent others to your door was actually the one behind it.

“No.” You called back out. You were thankful that Eddie didn’t make fun of you like the others did or comment on it. But you were embarrassed and felt ugly. 

“Please? I have something for you.” You sighed. Knowing Eddie he would either camp out in front of your door or more likely pick your lock or climb through your window in your bedroom if you didn’t let him in. You pulled yourself up off the couch and went to the door, unlocking it and opening up the door. His smile was wide and bright when you opened the door. His arms were laden with items and he nudged you with his foot. “May I come in?” He asked you, batting his lashes at you.

You stepped aside, letting the lanky metalhead into your home. Eddie moved inside of your apartment quickly and you watched him like he was some foreign entity in your home. Eddie had been in your apartment before but never alone with you. It was always accompanied by one of your friends. He had just never come here by himself. You wouldn’t have thought so though as he effortlessly placed down the items in his arms. He had a pizza box with him, two shopping bags and a backpack on his back. From the plastic bags he pulled out some beer, candy and movies presumably from his own home. “What’re you doing here, Eddie?” You sighed, shutting your door and moving back to your couch. You burrowed yourself under your blanket again, pillow tucked behind your back. “Where are the guys?”

“Well, you left clearly upset, and I kicked the guys out.” Eddie answered nonchalantly. He stopped his movements of sorting out the treats he brought to look at you. “They shouldn’t have said what they said.” He spoke softly, watching you.

You took a breath. “Thank you… You didn’t have to come here though.” You mumbled, crossing your arms.

“I wanted to.” Eddie waved you off. “Now, I’m gonna go change cause we’re having a sleepover. I have your favorite.” He flipped open the pizza box to reveal your favorite toppings. “I will be back!” He took his backpack into your bedroom. You leaned over, assessing the pizza and snacks he had brought with him for you. You took a slice of pizza and gently began munching on it, trying to fight off the negative thoughts about how this food wasn’t good for you and wouldn’t help your situation but only deepen the purple stretch marks on your stomach and thighs.

When Eddie returned, he was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a faded Judas Priest t-shirt. He dropped down onto the couch on the opposite side of you and picked up a slice of pizza, taking a huge bite out of the food. He settled down, wiggling your blanket out from under him to get under the fabric and be comfortable with you. You both sat like that for a while, watching the movie you had put on and eating the pizza. Eventually one of the movies Eddie had brought with him was put on. You both fell into a comfortable silence but you knew it would eventually break.

As the second movie played you were about halfway through it when Eddie finally spoke up. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He asked you, turning his head to look at you. You turned your head to meet his eyes and felt your walls crumble. You wanted to say no… but with Eddie’s gaze on you, it was hard to compose yourself. You flashed back to what happened not too long ago and over the week in general. You didn’t realize that more tears began to slide down your cheeks. “I’m just so sick of everyone thinking I’m innocent just because I haven’t fucked someone. I’m not an idiot. I’m not a child. I fucking know things.” You sobbed quietly, hurriedly wiping at your cheeks. “It’s not my fault I’m not the kind of girl anyone wants.” You felt the couch shift as Eddie moved closer, the weight of his arm falling over your shoulders. He moved your legs over his lap, tucking you into his side as you cried. “They act like it was somehow my choice. Like I haven’t wanted to have a boyfriend, have sex, go on dates, be loved by someone. If it were my choice I would’ve done all those things! But no one is interested in me. How is that my fault?” You babbled on, tucking your face against Eddie’s chest and finding comfort in the smell of him.

“First of all, they were wrong to make you seem like you don’t know shit. Second of all, you are absolutely the kind of girl people want. Smart people who have eyes and aren’t selfish assholes. I know if you had the choice, you would’ve done those things. Clearly, since this upsets you so much, babe. There’s nothing wrong with taking your time.” Eddie spoke softly, his thumb rubbing your skin comfortingly as he spoke.

“Sure, Eddie. Whatever you say.” You murmured, feeling drained from the week itself. A silence fell over the two of you as you felt your insecurities swallow your mind. “Maybe if I was skinnier… prettier. Like Nancy, smart too.” You mumbled. You gasped when Eddie suddenly moved back. You looked at him and he had moved back to stare at you. What shocked you was the anger on his face.

“Do not. Say that.” He spoke sternly, watching you. “There is nothing wrong with you. Your body, your mind, nothing.”

“But-”

“No!” Eddie frowned, a crease forming between his brows as he showed his unhappiness at your lack of self-confidence. “No buts! Yours is phenomenal, by the way.” He was moving before you could even process what you just heard, your cheeks warming when you realized. He was pulling at your legs. You made a small sound as he pulled you til you were laying on your couch. You adjusted the pillow that had once been behind your back to be behind your head instead, deciding to humor Eddie. You knew him well enough that he would say what he wanted to say whether you wanted to hear it or not. He was never shy to share his opinion, sometimes unprompted. “Look,” Eddie moved on top of you. He straddled your thighs as his hair fell over your face like a curtain. Without thinking about it you moved his hair back from his face. “Hi, pretty girl.” Eddie grinned at you. You pouted at him, using one hand to tug on his earlobe. He whined and winced, “Ow.” he mumbled softly. Eddie’s hands moved from holding himself up above you instead favoring to rest his body against yours. You grunt softly at the new weight but it wasn’t bothering you. 

“Eddie, what are you doing?” You huff and Eddie grins back at you.

“Shh. Hold on. I’m gonna give you the boyfriend experience, okay. Let me show you how pretty you are.” He shushed you, moving his hand up to your face. His middle finger gently ran over your forehead, moving down the bridge of your nose. Your eyebrows were creased in confusion as you took in what he was doing but your breath hitched in your throat as his lips pressed between your eyebrows, smoothing the crease away. His soft touch moved down over the tip of your nose down to your cupid’s bow before moving over your cheekbone. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. You were fumbling as you processed the fact that Eddie Munson was kissing your face. His lips followed his finger as he kissed your cheek bone. More kisses followed over your cheek, jaw and chin. 

“Ed-”

“Shhh,” He softly shushed you again, middle finger moving over your top lip before running over your lower lip. You waited, holding your breath. That breath escaped you when Eddie pressed his lips to yours. You knew what to do, of course, pressing your lips back to Eddie’s but truly you were sure you were a horrible kisser. His hand now cupped your cheek as his lips moved against yours like he was trying to show you what to do. Soon you melted in his embrace, just enjoying kissing him. His lips were slightly chapped but soft and you made a mental note to share your cherry lip balm with him so he didn’t crack his lips. Eddie’s lips left yours though and you whimpered softly as he moved away. A breathy chuckle left him. “You have to breathe, pumpkin. Okay?” He murmured, nose nudging yours gently. Then he was moving again. He tucked his head into your neck, peppering kisses against your skin. He kissed over your collarbones before kissing the tops of your breasts. “No bra when you’re at home? I should come visit more often.” He mumbled against your skin, running his nose over your cloth covered mounds. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a devilish smile on his lips. 

“Gonna come over more often now cause I don’t wear a bra at home?” You scoffed and Eddie nodded against you. 

“Mhm, and cause I can see your nipples through your tank top.” He chuckled and moved his hands down to your hips. His hands moved back up, pushing your tank top up. You reached for his hands but he stopped just under your breasts. “Not going further. I didn’t ask permission yet.” He murmured and shuffled down your body. His nose nudged gently at your stomach, admiring the pudginess that was there. He began scattering kisses over your soft flesh. Over stretch marks ranging from soft pink, barely there to fresh purple ones. You squirmed a little under him, cheeks warming in embarrassment and self consciousness. “You’re so cute.” He mumbled against your skin, looking up at you. You pouted, feeling tears tug at your lashes again. “No crying, baby.” He murmured, “Not wanting to make you feel bad. Just wanna admire you.” You sniffled, gently wiping at your eyes as you nodded down at him. You were unsure of Eddie’s plan. Why he was doing this and how far he was going to go but you were going to give him his time, enjoying the limited attention he was affording you.

Eddie waited for you to calm down before he continued. He kissed over your hips, hands moving to pull your sweatpants down slightly. He pulled the material down over your legs, setting them aside and you froze again. He bypassed your panties which made you pout a little but you knew Eddie had a plan. His kisses continue over the tops of your thighs before moving to kiss the sides of them. He lifted one of your legs, lips moving down your calf and over your ankle before he kissed the top of your foot. When he was satisfied that he had covered you in enough kisses he grabbed your sweatpants and pulled the material back over your legs and settled himself on top of you again once you were clothed again. Eddie had laid himself so his head rested at your neck. One arm snaked under your body while his other hand moved to gently run his fingers through your hair. 

“You can call me crazy if you want,” Eddie mumbled against your skin. “But what if I gave you the boyfriend experience. Doesn’t have to go anywhere. Just… show you what you’re missing.” 

You blinked, thinking over Eddie’s suggestion. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Eddie. You liked him a lot especially once you saw the soft side of the scary looking metal head. You figured you weren’t his type despite the affection he’d shown you tonight. So what was the harm in taking him up on gaining some experience? You hummed softly and stroked your fingers through his hair. “Yeah… I’d like that.” You murmured quietly, feeling the smile that spread over his lips before he pressed a kiss to your throat. 

Eventually the two of you moved so you could enjoy the slightly cold pizza Eddie had brought you both. The two of you ate most of it, tucking the rest into the fridge. You yawned gently as you packed up the snacks and Eddie’s hands gently grabbed at your arms to stop you. He steered you towards your room, shutting the tv off on the way. Inside your room you crawled into bed and laid on your side, figuring Eddie would help himself to wherever he wanted to sleep. The bed dipped beside you and Eddie shuffled closer to you. “An important part of the boyfriend experience, cuddling.” He murmured as he pressed himself to your back. He tangled his legs with yours, holding onto you. You could feel that he had shed his shirt before climbing into bed with you. His hand rested on your belly and you resisted the urge to move it. You didn’t even like touching your own belly but someone else touching the area made you want to crawl out of your skin. After a few minutes though you relaxed enough, gently falling asleep in his arms.

—----------------------------------------

The next morning you had woken up still in Eddie’s embrace. He was holding onto you tightly, gentle snores falling from his lips. You picked up his arm, attempting to wiggle free from his hold at first until he tightened his arm around you further. You huffed but smiled, picking up his arm again and getting free. You padded out of your room to the kitchen and started to brew some coffee. You grabbed what you needed to make some simple bacon and eggs for you both, humming as you did so. As you added some cheese into the eggs you heard him before you felt him. He had just managed to step on one of the creaky floor boards. Eddie’s arms wrapped around you and his head found home on your shoulder. 

“You left me,” He mumbled against your skin.

“I made breakfast.” You answered, plucking up a piece of bacon and offering it to him.

Eddie lifted his head and bit into the bacon, chewing thoughtfully. “All is forgiven.”

You chuckled and shook your head, finishing the other half of the strip of salty pork before returning to moving the eggs around. Eddie removed himself from you to grab the plates you set aside for you both. He held both as you scooped some eggs onto the plates before placing bacon strips onto them. Eddie took them to the table as you popped toast into the toaster and started to make your cup of coffee. Once all the food was ready you both sat down to eat. You found your eyes wandering to the boy that sat beside you. Eddie’s hair was a frizzy mess from sleeping with it loose last night. His torso and arms were toned and not overly muscular. You figured he lifted a lot of heavy things having heard he worked at a mechanics shop now. Blotches of scars were on his arms and torso from where the demobats had feasted on his flesh but you didn’t find them repulsive. It made Eddie look rugged in a way. Even if his nipple and his chest tattoos had suffered because of it. His rings were absent, most likely sitting on your bedside table now.

“Like what you see?” 

You moved your eyes away from Eddie’s chest to look at his face. He smiled at you. A kind, warm smile like you guys had known one another a long time. His big chocolate orbs watched you carefully but as he shifted the sun caught his eyes, turning them amber. You chuckled at the scrunch of his nose and the squint of his eyes as they were invaded by the sun. You stood up, moving to your window and pulling the sheer curtains together. “I like natural light.” You told him, returning to your seat. 

Eddie hummed, picking up your hand and kissing your knuckles. “Thank you for breakfast.” He murmured with another bright smile.

“You brought me dinner last night. It’s only fair.” You reason with a small shrug. When you finish your meal you put your plate in the sink and refill your mug before retiring to your couch once again under your blanket. Eddie joins you moments later, slipping under your blanket and shifting closer to you, arm around your shoulders. You turned the TV on, finding something to watch as you sip your coffee. You only look away when a gentle tap comes to your chin and you turn your head, Eddie lips pressing to yours. 

“Forgot to properly tell you good morning.” He murmured against your lips.

You feel your face warm, kissing Eddie again. “Good morning,” You murmured.

“Good morning,”

—-------------------------

You and Eddie spent the day together. You watched TV, made lunch and finally talked about what you would both be doing. Eddie offered a no strings attached experience, explaining that he would provide you with the experience of what it was like to have a boyfriend and whatever else you might like at no cost to you besides your time.

“You don’t want anything?” You asked, raising a brow at the boy.

Eddie nodded his head. “Nothing.”

“There has to be something you want to be doing this.”

Eddie hummed and shook his head again. “I’m getting it already.”

“What?”

He smiled at you and reached for your hand. “What I want… is you.” He murmured, “Stupid, I know. Me being an option but I’m happy just… filling the role for you. Til you find what you want.”

That was the thing. You didn’t know what you wanted. You wanted to be loved, yes. Someone who wanted you. Which Eddie claimed he was that person. Someone who wanted you. That was something difficult for you to grasp. Why would someone want somebody as imperfect as you are? You were a burden, an issue. Or simply just the thing in the corner that was easily ignored. You simply nodded at Eddie’s words though and leaned over, pressing your lips to his even if you didn’t believe a word he said.

.

..

...

....

.....

[hedonists-den]

I stroll through the grocery store, cart loaded with assorted junk food. And not one of those half carts either. A full-sized cart full of fresh baked pastries, boxes of snack cakes, frozen pizzas, massive sub sandwiches, bags of chips and candy, various pints of ice cream, cases of full-sugar soda, just an obscene amount of unhealthy garbage.

By now, the employees know me by name with how often I'm there to indulge your cravings. I bring my haul over to a checkout aisle and start unloading, but I figure one more candy bar wouldn't hurt, and I add it to the pile. The checker begins the extensive process of scanning all the items, and I can see the look on their face.

None of them are really shocked anymore. When they see me, they know they'll be scanning pounds and pounds of junk food. And judging by the size difference between you and me when they last saw you, I think they know where it's going. You're not with me this time, of course. You've gotten too lazy and too heavy to be waddling around the grocery store anymore, especially when you can trust me to fetch everything your greedy heart desires.

Getting it all inside is a full task in and of itself. I practically get a full arm workout hauling all the bags from my car, through the door, and to the kitchen. You know I'm not one for taking multiple trips, but with the amount you go through, I'll have to go back at least once.

When I walk in, you're right where I left you: feet up on the ottoman, laid back on the couch that is undoubtedly straining to hold your weight. The groceries are heavy, but I just can't help but pause and marvel at what a sight you are. Rolls covering your body from top to bottom, legs forced apart from the sheer girth of your thighs, your blubbery mound of a belly spilling onto your lap from under a t-shirt turned tank top, fattened tits resting on top of your gut, pillowy arms and pudgy hands tilting a fast food milkshake cup back to get every single drop. A living definition of unrestrained hedonism.

You glance over at me, continuing to suck down the entirety of your indulgent treat. I have to wonder if you're putting on this little show just for me, or if you really have become that gluttonous. Probably both, if we're being fair.

"Looks like you didn't wait for me to get back," I say, walking to the kitchen to set your goodies down. "How much did you struggle to get to the front door and back for that delivery, hm?"

I hear a soft groan from you and the echo of an empty cup set on the side table. "I moved myself just fine!" Your heavy panting suggests otherwise, but I let it slide. After all, it could just be that you didn't stop to breathe until you consumed the entire shake. "You get everything?"

"Everything and more. I doubled up on some things, knowing how you've been lately."

"Oh my godddd, I need one of those sandwiches. I'm starving..." There was a time when you would rush into the kitchen to look through everything I brought back, but the last few times- "Could you bring it to me...?" you ask. Right on cue.

"My pleasure, princess," I say with a grin. I pull out one of the footlong subs and unwrap it for you, taking the liberty of slathering on some extra mayo for good measure. The moment I step into the living room, I can see your excitement as you lift your arms and lean forward ever so slightly, a wide grin on your face.

"Thank you thank you!"

I turn to leave, but I watch you take that first bite out of the corner of my eye. And then that little moan of delight that sparks the urgency in your feasting. I can hear you stuffing your face as I head back towards the garage and gather the rest of the groceries. You'll almost assuredly be at least halfway done by the time I get back inside and set everything down.

And you never disappoint. I step back in and see you pushing the last bite of a sandwich half through your lips before licking your fingers. The way you've been gorging yourself is nothing short of breathtaking. It really is no wonder that you've managed to gain hundreds of pounds.

"Your shirt is looking a little small," I call from the kitchen.

"You like how it fits?" You respond with a full mouth. "I just can't pull it past my upper belly anymore..."

"To be fair, not much does fit you anymore. I can't even tell if you're wearing underwear most days," I chuckle.

"Think I'm wearing any right now?"

I can practically hear the sultry smile on your face as you ask. "I think you want to see me struggle with all your rolls to check. But I don't think you've eaten enough to earn it."

"Well, you better bring those cookies and make a proper hog out of me, then."

With an invitation like that, the rest of the groceries can wait. I dig through the bags for all 4 boxes of soft, chewy cookies, bringing them in and setting them beside you.

"A proper hog? Like I haven't done that to you already..." I tease, taking your belly flab in in one hand and squeezing it gently. "Look at all this. All this heavy, moldable fat..."

I lift your gut and drop it on your thighs, a dense slap resonating through your whole body. The sound, the ripples that shake every inch of you, it's mesmerizing. I continue handling your corpulence with increasing roughness, gripping all your rolls and jiggling them, slapping your love handles, and sinking my hands into your hips.

"I've gotten so huge...I can't help that it feels so good..." You moan, laying your head back.

I pop open the first container of cookies and situate myself in front of you. Your belly makes such a nice table to hold the container while I lean into it. "Open up. Let me make you even bigger."

You part your lips, letting me push nearly half the cookie in. I get more aggressive with each bite you take, encouraging you to take more and more, over, and over, and over.

"Come on, piggy. Keep it up. You want to be a good pet, don't you? Eat..."

One by one, the cookies disappear, and I get to hear that beautiful, overfed panting of yours again. You huff and puff, finally able to catch your breath from the relentless feeding. Everything about your current state just encourages me, igniting a need to see you helplessly engorged.

I slowly but firmly caress your poor, sweets-stuffed tummy. "Well now look at you. All stuffed with sweets. You know we're going to need to offset that with something savory and greasy. Settle in."

"Okay..." you say, your chest heaving up and down as you place your hands on the sides of your belly.

I start scrolling through DoorDash, tending to you while I look for your next meal. It's only early afternoon, after all. And gluttonous house pets like you need to keep fed all day long.

[violetbeauregut]

Violet's Big Misunderstanding

It's been a while but I was inspired to write another feedee fantasy ❤️❤️❤️

Violet was browsing the ice cream section at the grocery store with her feeder at her back, absentmindedly rubbing her belly, when she heard the question. 

“When are you due?” The middle aged woman asked, her cart skidding to a halt. She gestured to Violet’s big, swollen belly and gave her a hopeful smile. Violet could see the barest hint of uncertainty in that smile. This woman knew it was impolite to make such an assumption, but was making the gamble because Violet’s feeder was worshiping her gut in a way that was almost always reserved for pregnancy. 

She felt her feeder press closer to her. He used the hands on her belly to gently steer her to face the woman. He ran a hand along the curve of her belly and said, “She looks ready to pop, doesn’t she?”

The woman chuckled goodnaturedly. “Any day now, then?”

Violet could almost feel his mischievous grin. He patted the side of her belly lovingly. “I swear she’s getting bigger by the hour.” 

“Well that’s perfectly natural, dear,” the woman said to Violet, reassuringly. “I was as big as a house by the time I had my first.”

Violet blushed deeply. Because her feeder had so readily played along, she was too ashamed to admit that she was actually just obese and not on the verge of giving birth. It was moments like these where she wondered if she had let things go too far–if she had let her gluttony and lust take her past the point of no return. It certainly felt that way, as her embarrassment at being so fat she was mistaken for pregnant warred with her arousal. 

Her feeder peered down at her, assessing her red cheeks and quickened breath. He moved around to her side and put a hand over her shoulders before making a show of squeezing her against him and rubbing her thick upper arm. “Aww, honey. There’s no need to get embarrassed; you are eating for two.”

The older lady nodded enthusiastically, saying, “He’s right. You’re pregnant, sweetheart, not fat. You just focus on growing that baby and you can always lose the weight later.” She turned her attention to Violet’s feeder. “Now you get that beautiful girl home and get her whatever she wants to eat. Make sure she stays off her feet too. Carrying around that belly is hard work.” 

Once the woman had given her fill of advice and walked away, Violet turned to him. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

He laughed again, reaching down and giving her gut a quick slap. “With how good you’ve been lately, piggy, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.” 

She blushed again, looking down at her distended belly. It was hanging heavily between her hips– a testament to how much fatter she had gotten recently. “I feel bad about lying to that woman though.” 

He pinched her chin and tipped her face back up to look at him. “Nothing we said was a lie. You are eating for two– for you and me. She made the assumption. And don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that. I know how wet you must be right now.” When she didn’t respond, he continued, “In fact, I know you enjoyed it so much that we are going to keep going. Okay, piggy?”

She nodded. She couldn’t help herself. If he gave her a choice, she would always surrender to him like the obedient sow she was. 

–

Violet waddled around the store holding an open bag of mini powdered donuts. The white sugar dusted her lips, fingers, and shirt (which had gotten so tight that it was riding up, exposing a strip of belly). The shopping cart was always in reach and trailing beside her. In addition to the fattening foods that were a regular part of their grocery runs, open wrappers and containers were littered inside. She had already eaten what would be a week’s worth of snacks for most people. 

It was frowned upon to eat in the store and then pay for the items during check out, but anytime an employee looked at her disapprovingly, her feeder would shrug dramatically and say, “cravings,” in an apologetic tone. She was left to gorge in peace after that. 

Violet was getting increasingly out of breath. Not only was she stuffed so full that her stomach was compressing her lungs, her walk through the aisles was more exercise than she was now used to. Not to mention that her heart rate would pick up everytime her feeder would make loud, teasing comments down the busiest aisles like, “pick up two, baby, I know that you’re going to gobble one up on the car ride home,” “let’s get the one with less sugar, the doctor said a forty pound gain was average, but you’re getting close to seventy,” and “careful, I know you feel like you have free reign to eat as much as you want right now, but remember that the weight has to come off eventually.” 

“I need to sit soon,” she panted. 

“Poor baby, I know that big belly is getting hard for you to carry,” he said. “Let me help you.”

He stepped behind her and let his hands trail over her wide hips until they snaked underneath her gut. He lifted her belly up with a quiet grunt that made Violet smile. 

Before she could even let him know what a relief it was to have him take some of the heft off of her lower back, a young woman popped up in front of her, excitedly holding her own swollen belly. Her’s, Violet could tell, really was a baby bump–and Violet could also tell by the way that only her belly was round while everything else looked tight and toned, that this woman was naturally thin and fit. She looked down at her stuffed, barely clothed pork belly that was covered in crumbs and sugar. She was immediately flooded with embarrassment. 

“Oh my gosh, we’re like twins!” The woman exclaimed. “I'm thirty-four weeks, but you look so much bigger than me! How far along are you?” 

“Any day now,” Violet mumbled, unwilling to lie so blatantly. 

“Oh how exciting! I’m sure you are both so ready. I know I can’t wait for my due date. I’m so sick of being this big and waddling around everywhere.” 

Her feeder laughed softly. “I bet! I’m sure you aren’t used to having to carry all that extra weight in your belly. You’re lucky though,” Violet’s feeder said, moving his hands to the side of her belly. “You’re all baby, but my Violet is swelling up everywhere.” 

After a few more pleasantries and the other woman’s sympathies that poor Violet’s fat distribution might mistakenly be seen as obesity rather than pregnancy, they finally got to the checkout line. 

“Have you finally gotten enough to eat, piggy?” He whispered in her ear. She nodded, rubbing the top of her tight belly. 

“I don’t think so,” He said with a smirk. He pointed to the rows of candy bars lining the top of the conveyor belt. He grabbed a handful of her lardy lower belly and gave it a little shake. “Go grab about six of them. You are eating for two after all.” 

She shuffled around to the front of their car and grabbed handfuls of chocolate, realizing too late that lifting her arms to reach the candy left her belly largely exposed and her deep red stretch marks on full display. She quickly scanned the faces of the shoppers around her as she desperately tugged her top down, but no one was staring at her or giving her the usual disapproving looks. Just when she thought she was in the clear, a hand that did not belong to her feeder landed squarely on the most round part of her belly. 

A large, strange man was now groping her stuffed gut. He rubbed hard circles into her belly and turned his head to speak to Violet’s feeder as if she were not even there. She was furious– were pregnant people really supposed to be okay with being touched without permission? Her feeder eyed her without responding to the man, ready to jump in at the first sign of her distress, but she gave him a look that kept him in his place. Violet let out a tremendous burp and giggled. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I ate too much.” 

“Oh, it’s alright,” he said, patting her belly again gently. “That’s to be expected with mothers-to-be.”

She feigned a look of surprise. “What? I’m not pregnant.”

The man looked at her and then back at her feeder as if waiting for him to contradict her. Her feeder just shook his head and Violet could tell he was trying to hold back a laugh. 

“No baby, I’m afraid,” he said to the horrified stranger. “Just a lardy pig belly.” 

The man released her and stumbled back, offering apologies as he fled. Her feeder hugged her from behind, his hands wrapped around her middle. He smiled into her hair and gently squeezed her fat, testing the softness with his large hands. “You sure are proud of this huge blubbery gut, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t you?” She challenged. 

“Oh yes, greedy girl,” he said, rubbing the swollen curve of her belly that had started their little rouse in the first place. “Now open that box of snack cakes and make it bigger for me. Next time I want someone to ask if you’re carrying twins.”

[lovesickeros]

☆ de fontaine

{☆} characters furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings angst, suicidal thoughts, hurt / no comfort {☆} word count 1.4k

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair!

She thought, for one moment, she could put the mask down and breathe – for one moment of daydreaming, she thought she could just be Furina. She thought she would finally get to live the live she should've had in the first place, the life she threw away to play God to an audience who saw her as nothing but a circus animal, dancing to their whims. Furina just wanted to be selfish for one brief and fleeting moment..and it was gone before she could even grasp it in her hand. A comet soaring past far out of her reach.

She can barely keep her hands from violently shaking as she looks down at them – broken and bloody and more a corpse then a person – and she feels so numb she can't even feel the rain pelting against her back. None of this is fair, she wants to scream, why is it always me? But her voice is silent beneath the torrent of rain. She wonders if the ocean would take her if she sank into it's depths – just for a moment, she wonders how it would feel to finally be able to sleep at ease.

Furina is tired.

But Furina is nothing if not useful, isn't she?

So she forces her feet to move, dragging against the stone beneath her heels, and drags their bloodied body into the nearest empty building, letting the rain do the work of washing away the smeared blood following her path. The smell makes her feel sick, the feeling of it sticking to her hands and gloves makes her lightheaded, but she persists. Because Furina is useful, because Furina won't let them die out in the rain, because Furina won't stand by and just let them rot on the streets like some..pest.

Furina wants to go home. She wants to sleep and she isn't she if she wants to wake up, this time. But she keeps going anyway.

Because it's all she's ever done, and the habit sticks.

An Archon she may not be, not anymore, but the expectations of five hundred years still linger like eyes on the inside of her skull. They watch her, pry and prod at her thoughts, mocking laughter and judging eyes following her as she forces herself to dance to the song they weave with glee. Furina never stepped off that stage – she's still there, she thinks, watching the crowd stare at her in disdain as the curtain call looms above her like a guillotine. She still hears Neuvillette deliver her damnation and salvation with a trembling voice, still feels her hair stand on end when electro crackled like the crack of the whip, Clorinde's blade aimed at her like a loaded gun.

She's trapped on that stage and she never left, not really.

She hates it. She thinks she hates them, but it's not their fault. They didn't ask for this, didn't ask for everyone to turn against them, didn't ask for her to save them. Neither did she..yet here they are, she thinks.

She tries to tell herself she's in control this time, though. She can stop performing her part in this horrible, bloody play any time she wants. It makes her feel better, just for a little while, if she convinces herself she's still Furina, painfully human.

And Furina has always been good at lying.

It's the believing that's the hard part.

There isn't time for her to wallow in her own self pity, though. They're still bleeding out onto the dusty, creaky floorboards of some random, broken down house and she's just standing there as the blood stains the wood. She can fix it – she's good at fixing things. She's done nothing but fix things – try to, anyway – for five hundred years. She can fix a little wound, how hard could it be? Her hands are clenched so tight they ache as she kneels down, wincing at the creak of the floorboards beneath her heels– she hesitates just long enough to wonder if she's making a mistake before she peels away just enough of the outer layer of their clothes to see the deep, bloody gash across their chest. She tries not to think about it – it's deep, too deep, and she feels dizzy just looking at it, but she's handled worse, right?

Furina can fix it. That's what she's good at.

She doesn't feel so confident when she tries to wrack her brain for..something. Five hundred years, and a little wound stumps her? No, she had to have learned something, right? She's decidedly not trying to buy time because she's panicking, parsing through hundreds of years of memories like flipping through a book. Furina isn't made for this, not really – she's running on nothing but adrenaline and she's really not sure what she's doing, but she's trying. And just like before, it won't be enough, will it?

She'll fall short again – she'll be too late to fix it before she's alone again.

Furina was an Archon..used to be. What use would she have for that sort of knowledge? Which makes her predicament all the more harrowing and bleak. What was she supposed to do?

Furina had heard it first hand, that vitriol in Neuvillette's voice. She isn't sure she's ever heard him that..angry before. She's not sure he would listen to her if she tried, either. And that scares her more then anything. All of Fontaine was up in arms about this..imposter, yet here she was, staring down at them bleeding out in front of her, and she was trying to save them.

Why? Why is she throwing away her only chance at normalcy for a fraud? Why didn't she just turn them in?

They were dying – that should've been a good thing, shouldn't it? So why didn't it feel like it?

"Why you?" Her voice breaks as she speaks in harsh tones, grabbing the front of their shirt in trembling, bloodied hands. "Why now?" She wants to scream, to demand answers they can't give, to claw back the reprieve she was promised after five hundred years of agony..and all she can do is sob into their chest, pleading for an answer that will not come. "Why me?"

Silence is their answer, and it hangs heavy on her trembling shoulders as she cries.

Of course they don't, she thinks bitterly, no one has ever answered her pleas spoken in hushed sobs. Not her other self and certainly not them.

Furina has always been alone. Furina will always be alone.

Because Furina never left that stage, never left that moment when she looked at herself in the mirror and took up a mantle too heavy for her to bear. She always finds her way back eventually. There's no one on the other side anymore – she stands alone on a stage, waiting for an inevitable end she isn't sure will come.

"Please," She pleads through tears and choked sobs, clinging to them like they are all that keeps her from sinking. "Please don't leave me, too." The words burn on her tongue – how pathetic is she that she craves companionship from the bloodied body of the imposter? Perhaps she's truly lost her mind after all these years..perhaps she's finally gone mad. She must have.

But their presence is like the first feeling of gentle warmth upon her skin as the sun crests the horizon, like the gentle lap of tides along her heels, the sway of branches and leaves as the wind blows through them like an instrument all it's own. They are the soothing sound of rain against the window as she watches the dreary skies in fond longing, the first bloom of spring as color blooms upon the landscape like paint had been spilled across the hills and valleys.

They are like the faint spark she carefully nurtures and stokes, so fragile even the smallest wind could blow it out like a candle. She cradles it within her palms, pleads with whoever will listen – prays that someone finally listens, because if not for her, then for them.

She's failed to protect too much already, let too many people with so much trust in her fall between the cracks of her fingers like grains of sand. She won't let them go – she can't.

If nothing else, if she couldn't be saved when she begged for salvation from that five hundred year long agony, even if she never got that chance..

Furina will make sure they do.

[beastsovrevelation]

Captured Angel

Michael Langdon x F!Angel!Reader

Contains: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, elements of coercion, implied loss of virginity, blasphemy, hierophilia

“Good, you’re awake.”

A chill ran down your spine. You had awakened in an unfamiliar room. Your head ached, your wings hung limp, and your limbs were heavy. The air was soaked to the last thread in malice. It made you nauseous. Gritting your teeth, you dragged yourself up, your mind aflame with a single thought – you had to get out. You looked around, but before you could spot a way of escape, you felt a presence. Dark... Darker than the blackest night. Your heart froze in your chest, a taste of iron suddenly coating your tongue. Though you had not seen his face, you could recognize him anywhere. Seven heads. Ten horns. His honeyed voice left a cold, oily trace on your very soul as he spoke. You drew a deep breath, and spun around, to meet a pair of piercing blue eyes.

His lips crooked into a smirk. Holding your gaze, he moved towards you. You drew back.   

“Get away from me, filthy Beast...” you snarled.

Deep down, you loathed yourself for the instinctive reaction. You were a soldier. You had a duty to stand your ground, and instead, you cowered. He promptly crossed the gap between you two.

“Ah-ah!” he scolded, clasping your chin “That’s not very nice, now, is it?..”

You grimaced. Michael Langdon. How ironic, for Satan’s son to bear your General’s name. The one who cast him out... You hoped it hurt the Evil One greatly. Michael caressed your cheek. You winced, and pushed his hand away. Sneering, he grabbed you by the throat.  

“Why am I here?” you hissed through gritted teeth.

He glanced down at your heaving chest.

“You’re my captive” he purred “Isn’t it obvious?”

You swallowed. Struggling would only worsen your chances, you knew as much. His gaze darkened with hunger as he watched you – like a wolf, salivating at a wounded deer. Your guts had coiled into a tight knot, a sickly sweet taste coating your mouth.

“Why didn’t your bootlickers kill me?” you asked, not quite certain if you wished to know the answer.

A chuckle escaped his lips. The Antichrist’s lecherous expression made your blood boil. How dare the abomination touch an angel of the Lord, you thought. A strange sensation was budding between your legs, but you pointedly ignored it, just as you ignored the feeling of unease clawing at the back of your skull.   

“That would’ve been a waste...” Michael tilted his head “They thought a gift would please me. They weren’t wrong...”

You snarled, attempting to pull away.

“Get your putrid hands off me!”

He tightened his grip on your neck.

“Hush” he coaxed in a mockingly gentle voice “I’m not going to hurt you, angel.”

“Vile creature...” you spat.

He pulled you closer. You bared your teeth, as your face almost crashed into his. Though you did not need air, the pressure on your throat was beginning to make you dizzy. Every nerve in your body screamed to fight - your muscles   had tensed, prepared for combat. You might have broken away. Escaped this unholy place. You should have at least tried... But, perhaps because of the mist gathering over your mind, your legs trembled underneath you. You found yourself staring at his mouth. His breath brushed against your skin, warm and silken. Your pulse leapt into a frenzy.

Michael snuck his other hand under your clothes. The captors had stripped you of your armour, and taken away your sword, leaving only your linen tunic to cover you. His fingertips caressed your thigh, slowly creeping upwards. You held your breath as you felt him part the soft folds of your skin.

You had never been fondled like this before. Carnal pleasure was forbidden for your kind. You should be disgusted, you understood as much. Still, the electric-like impulse roused by his touch paralyzed you, preventing you from breaking his arm.

He stroked your entrance. You stifled a gasp, your intimate muscles tightened in anticipation. Your hole was beginning to well with slick. Taking your lack of resistance for a welcome, he slipped two fingers inside you. The feeling of his skin against your sensitive membrane made your head spin, and you barely held back from bucking your hips into his hand.

He let go of your neck, only to wrap his arm around your waist. Keeping you steady, he spread his fingers wider, straining you until it hurt. You shuddered. He massaged the velvety walls of your flesh, driving you to the edge of madness. Aware of how much satisfaction hearing your cries would give him, you clenched your jaw. His skin grazed against a certain knot of nerves, and you nearly sunk to the ground as your legs buckled from the bolt of stimulation. Still, somehow, you did not make a sound.

It only made Michael more determined. He fixated on your sweet spot, leaving you to desperately clutch the lapels of his jacket. His mouth lingered but a thread away from yours - you felt his heartbeat echo against your rib cage. He narrowed his eyes, and pressed his thumb to your clit. Overwhelmed, you drew a sharp breath.

“Enjoying yourself, aren’t you?..” he teased “What is it, my dear? What do you want, hm?”

He pushed a third finger into your dripping slit. You whined in pleasure muddled with despair.

“Speak up, angel” he demanded.

Virtue be damned. Something tameless had infected you. Caught in the furor of sin, you eagerly cast your innocence aflame.

“I...” you stammered “I want... I need you to ravish me...”

Michael threw you onto the bed, and climbed on top of you. Laying flat on your back, your wings sprawled open, you looked up at him, your eyes sweetly half-lidded. His knee shoved between your thighs, he ripped the front of your tunic open. You sighed as cold air brushed against your nipples. He placed his hands on your breasts, savouring the softness of your bare skin. His eyes aflame with lust, he took a moment to admire your flushed, helpless body. Biting your bottom lip, you pushed your chest into his touch. He grabbed you by the throat again.

“You’re mine” he snarled “Mine alone...”

Against your better judgement, you nodded. Your gaze wandered down to his crotch, causing your mouth to immediately water. Michael’s lips crooked into a sleazy smirk. He unbuckled his pants, and slipped his underwear down. Your eyes widened as his hard cock sprung free. Large, but not obscenely so. You pulled the skirt of your tunic up, leaving your aching cunt at his mercy.

He pinned you down under his full weight. You wrapped your arms around him, savouring the feel of luxurious fabric under your fingers. Like an animal in heat, you craved to feel him inside. His eyes locked with yours, Michael clasped your leg, and positioned himself more comfortably. You blindly caught hold of his member, helping guide it into your hole.

Your heart skipped a beat – you let out a moan as your membranes clamped around him. Hardly giving you a moment to adjust, he began to move. The sudden strain roused a twinge, but it soon was obscured by shattering pleasure. No longer holding back your mewls and whimpers, you sank your nails into his back. Should the expensive suit get ruined, it will be his fault.

Michael groaned, his teeth bared in primal satisfaction. Your response only encouraged him, and he quickly picked up the pace. Each thrust sent a shattering wave of pleasure through your fevered nerves. You wrapped your legs around his waist, welcoming them. He traced the tip of his tongue over your neck. You hissed as his long hair tickled you, overwhelming your senses even more. He purred, and nipped at your jaw.

“Kiss me” you demanded.

He obeyed, leaning down to press his mouth against yours. You parted your lips for him, and allowed your tongues to battle for dominance.

“Say my name” he ordered, upon pulling away.

“I can’t...” you gasped in horror.

“Your general isn’t here...” he growled “It’s just you and me...” he pressed his face to your temple “Say my name, sweetheart. Show the Beast how much you’re enjoying your downfall.”

He pulled his cock almost all the was out, then slammed it back in, roughly grazing your sweet spot. Your cried out, and sank your fingers into his hair. You didn’t want to think about her. You loathed to imagine her disappointment in you. But his presence eclipsed her face. Drowned it in the storm of ecstasy ravaging you.

“Michael!”

“Good girl” he praised with a grin.

Shock after shock of ecstasy tore through your body, setting every cell of it aflame. Your forehead was laced in sweat. Your muscles quivered from the tension. You were close. Very close. Turned feral by the pleasure, he grabbed you by the wrists, thrusting into you with merciless force.

“Michael...” you moaned.

You couldn’t stand it anymore. You arched your back, trembling and convulsing as a scream escaped your throat. Michael threw his head back with a snarl. You had grown painfully tight around him, prompting him to reach his own release. You felt him spill inside you – it was the strangest, most pleasant sensation  you had ever experienced.

You collapsed into the pillows, limp and gasping for breath. He slumped down on top of you. For a moment, you allowed yourself to soak in the glowing haze of bliss. But, just when he had crept off of you, and was about to pull you into his arms, you leapt up. Using his surprise for your advantage, you climbed onto him – this time, you were the one to pin him down. You caught his gaze, and drew a dagger from underneath your ruined tunic. Afraid to molest their master’s gift, the devil worshippers had missed it.

“You will find the men who captured me, crucify them, and bleed them like pigs” you growled, pressing the blade against his throat “Do you understand me, Antichrist?”

A drop of blood sept from under the metal, glowing against his milky skin in a warning.

“Yes” he murmured, as his eyes blazed with adoration.

[overstuffd]

thinking about all the amazing options feeders have to give their little piggies to drink

🥤sugar stuffed soda with plenty of carbonation to stretch your stomach to bursting point and then melt into a soft layer of blubber

🍺cold beer, lining your stomach with liquid carbs while making you light headed and easy to feed more salty treats to

🍦milkshakkeess extra thick gainer shakes with a slice of decadent cake blended in with with the icecream and heavy cream

☕coffee filled with cream and extra, extra syrup, topped with more cream and chocolate drizzle. an extra shot of espresso or two to get you craving more and more cups a day

🧃sugary juices i persuade you as a still-in-denial cutie are the healthy choice, plying you with thousands of calories of sugary sweetness on a hot day and agreeing whenyou say you have no idea why your pants are getting so tight

[originalfatfiction]

Andy's Assistant

“Hello, excuse me.” There was a gentle rapping at my office door that caused me to look up from my computer. “Are you Andrew Reynolds?” I looked at a young guy obviously in his early twenties. He smiled cheerily as he stood in the doorway, waiting for my response. His smile was gorgeous, his teeth immaculate.

“Yes, I’m Andrew Reynolds,” I replied. “How can I help you?” He smiled again before he continued, walking a little further into my office. 

“Well, the receptionist at the desk in the waiting area said it would be okay if I came on back.” I nodded, allowing him to continue. “My name is Parker Jeong and I applied for the job as your assistant. We had the interview over the phone early last week. I was in the process of moving to the area.”

“Oh, yes, I remember.” Recent college grad. Moving from California. Could start working immediately.

“I know that you mentioned wanting to meet in person before finalizing my employment.” He smiled again, and even with the wholesome smile on his face, I could see in his eyes that he was nervous. He had beautiful almond-shaped brown eyes, and he did his best to hold my gaze. He toyed anxiously with the crisp sheet of paper in his hand, which I assumed was a hard copy of his resumé. He was probably scared I wouldn’t want to hire him after all. Imagine moving across the country for a job only to be told the position had already been filled.

“I know you just graduated a few months ago,” I verbalized. “But from what I remember you telling me during our phone conversation and what I saw on the resumé you emailed over, you’re more than qualified to work as an administrative assistant.”  

“Thank you, sir. I brought a hard copy of my resumé with me,” he said.

“Let me take another look.” He walked closer to my desk and handed it to me. I looked it over, recalling most of the standout credentials. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 

Parker had majored in marketing with a minor in graphic design. He’d spent his final semester involved in a mentorship program for Asian-Americans interested in working in advertising. He graduated magna cum laude. Hell, he was overqualified for this position. 

“You’re sure you want this job?” I asked. “You could definitely get a position as a copywriter at another agency.” 

“Hathaway and Associates is the best agency in the entire Midwest. I’ve dreamed of working here since I decided I wanted to go into advertising. The commercials you all put out for Nike were astonishing.” The kid had done his research. 

“What about those commercials did you like so much?” 

“They had this sense of authenticity that I don’t think we see much of anymore. Those ads gave me the courage to join a gym.” I wondered what he’d think if he knew the portly executive in front of him had come up with the concept that inspired his fitness journey. 

“I want more for my career, yes, but I don’t plan on shirking my responsibilities as your assistant. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re taken care of, sir.”  

I was a pretty good judge of character, and I didn’t think Parker would let me down. I liked his honesty. It was refreshing. My previous assistants had never been my choice, often young adults that had some sort of connection to the other executives at the agency. “Well, I look forward to working with you.”

“I look forward to working with you too,” he replied, reaching out to shake my hand. I stood, and his eyes traveled upwards to my face. Maybe he couldn’t tell I was so tall behind my desk, but it seemed like he was surprised by my size. I tended to have this effect on people. I grabbed his hand, and we shook to seal the deal of his hiring.

“Head to human resources and get your paperwork finalized. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning. We start at nine.” He thanked me again, clutching his over-the-shoulder bag as he left my office. I bet he skipped down the hallway all the way to HR.

I knew he’d work hard. That was certain. But when it came to how sexy he was, I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into. I assumed Parker was gay, and he was definitely a little snack I could see myself sinking my teeth into, but I had to remind myself that I was in a position of power over him. Even if I wanted to see what he was working with underneath his exquisitely tailored slacks, flirting with him was a no-go. And besides, that little gym bunny probably had no interest in a grizzly bear like me.

The next morning, I got to work a little early and Parker was sitting at his station right outside of my office. He had a dozen donuts on his desk and two coffees, one much larger than the other.

“Hello Mr. Reynolds,” he said. “Please let me know what I can do to help you this morning.” He handed me the larger coffee and a napkin before smoothly opening the box of donuts. I recognized them immediately. They were from a trendy new spot that had opened a few months ago. They specialized in unique flavors, like maple-bacon and Fruity Pebbles.

“You sure know how to make an impression.” 

“I told you that I’d do whatever it takes to make sure you’re taken care of.” I grabbed one of the donuts, knowing I’d be coming back out for another within the next fifteen minutes.

“Let me get situated and I’ll let you know what you can do for me.”

“Yes sir.”

I wondered if he knew what he was doing to me with all this “Mr. Reynolds” and “Yes sir” business. My last assistant was a statuesque redhead who never tried to go above and beyond the requirements of her position. Which was fine, I got it. She did what she was paid for. But sometimes I think she messed things up on purpose so I wouldn’t give her more work to do. I barely got a hello from her in the morning, and she left promptly at five without so much as a farewell. 

I shuffled into my office, tossing my bag on one of the chairs opposite my desk. I bit into the donut, savoring its sweetness. It tasted like a Biscoff cookie, and I was almost certain the glaze was made from cookie butter. I took a slightly larger bite before shoving the rest of the pastry into my awaiting mouth. That donut never stood a chance. I already wanted another, but I needed to show some self-restraint. I couldn’t let Parker know I spent my working hours inhaling food three minutes into his first day.

About ten minutes later, Parker was knocking at my door, box of donuts in hand.

“We’re celebrating today, Mr. Reynolds,” he said, walking towards my desk. “I’ve already had two of these. I’m going to leave the box with you so you don’t have to worry about coming back for more.”

“Well, uh, you don’t want to offer them to some of the other assistants?”

“No, sir,” he said, coyly setting the box to the left of me at my L-shaped desk. “This is for me and you, sir.”

Damn did Parker know the way to a big man’s heart. Having the box within arm’s reach, I finished the rest of that dozen by noon.

The donuts were one thing, but Parker was constantly supplying me with snacks throughout the day. He’d brought me homemade blueberry muffins and brown butter chocolate chip cookies. He’d made me buttery croissants, decadent fudge brownies, and Oreo cheesecake bites. I wondered if he was making his way through a cookbook.

“It’s just a hobby,” he said offhandedly when I mentioned he didn’t have to bring me so many treats. “I guess I got carried away.”

“You just always bring so much. I hope you know I’m not expecting you to bring something every single day. I don’t want you to feel put out.”

“It’s just how I unwind,” he said. “Before I moved here, I had three roommates. Now that I live alone, I don’t have anyone else to share them with. I’m really sorry for assuming you wanted them.”

“Whoa!” I interjected. “I never said I didn’t want them.” This made him laugh. I didn’t mind the baked goods. I woke up salivating thinking about what new thing he’d have for me to munch on, but it was never just a sampling of his work. The portions were huge. When he showed up with his reusable containers, it always brought to mind something that would normally be placed in the breakroom for everyone in the office to sample—like a baker’s dozen of white chocolate raspberry mini-Bundt cakes or an entire pan of M&M Rice Krispie Treats.

The baked goods were just the cherry on top of having an excellent assistant. He was definitely the best one I’d ever had, a really fast learner for sure, but his competence as an office worker was second to his ability to cater to my often insatiable hunger. A month of Parker’s special treatment was damaging to my waistline. Being catered to by him turned me on beyond belief, and it was something new for me. In my past relationships, my love of food was never celebrated. Parker’s eyes seemed to light up when I munched on whatever he brought me. “It’s not too chocolatey?” he’d asked, pushing another confection my way. It was never too chocolatey. It was always perfect, just like him.

He greeted me with baked goods each morning and made sure to say goodbye before heading out every evening, carrying with him an empty Tupperware container or pie dish. Aside from the extra thousand-plus calories a day I was inhaling from his delicious goodies, he always made sure to have lunch delivered for me.

He talked to me more than any of my other assistants ever had. Almost like he was trying to get to know me on a more personal level. It had me looking forward to going to work, a feeling I hadn’t had in quite a while. It might have been unintentional, but Parker’s interest, even if it was just platonic, was boosting my ego. My old assistants barely ever looked in my direction, but this guy wanted to know what my favorite movies were and what I liked to do for fun. This attention from him was electrifying. My brain knew being this infatuated with him was no good, but my heart (and my stomach) didn’t care.

Even now, none of the interns or other assistants ever talked to me unless absolutely necessary. That didn’t mean I wasn’t a topic of conversation. They all definitely talked about me. I was big, yes. But I also had a resting serious face. Combined with my intimidating frame, they thought of me as some sort of beast. I once made an intern cry during a pitch meeting because I “looked like I was going to bite her head off.” I now made more of an effort to smile, even when there was no reason to. I also tried to ignore the implications of this, considering I was one of four black men on staff.

To the other execs, I was more of the office joke. I was younger than most of them by fifteen years, so they viewed me as some sort of kid brother. It was always a crack here or a joke there. When I landed the Nike account they all thought it was the funniest thing to ever happen in the history of the world.

“Andy?” one of them had guffawed, barely able to get out what he wanted to say. “When was the last time you saw the inside of a gym? And Nike went with your pitch?”  

But it was something I had become accustomed to; all throughout school I was the big guy people joked about or avoided. Adults always thought I was with the wrong group of kids in elementary school because I was a head taller than the other boys. As if I wasn’t already too big, I had another growth spurt the summer before freshman year of high school. At fourteen my dad began teaching me how to lift weights. My body developed rapidly, and it took me a long time to get comfortable with those changes. By the time I was eighteen, I was larger than my father, who was by no means a small man. My weight sort of leveled out in my early twenties, and I graduated college at my current height and 270 pounds.

Joining the workforce was frightening, yet liberating. I had disposable income and the ability to make my own life decisions. I began working where I was currently employed as a copywriter two months after getting my degree. Lots of late nights and hard work helped me rise in the ranks. I was promoted to the executive level three years ago, and had run through five assistants in that time. I was now thirty-two, unmarried, and a little stifled.

I spent most of my time working. I hadn’t had a hookup in literal years, and to be frank, I didn’t see one happening in the near future. I used to be able to lean into being the big, burly guy who’d had one too many beers. I walked the line between dad-bod and straight-up fat guy for as long as I could before I was promoted. Being an executive meant a lot more responsibility and a lot less free time. My tri-weekly lifting sessions were now a thing of the past. I thought I could stand to lose a few pounds then, but now I was over 350 pounds.

Having Parker as my assistant only exacerbated my feelings of loneliness (and horniness). He probably didn’t even know I was gay and very much into his tight slacks and obedient disposition. The last month had been amazing, yet torturous.

“I have your forms, Mr. Reynolds.”

I told him he could call me Andy, or even just Andrew, but he never did. It was about lunch time and I was getting a bit restless. Maybe I’d run off my other assistants with my multiple food orders throughout the day. I seemed to simply exist in a state of hunger. I was also slightly convinced I couldn’t do my best work on an empty stomach.

I looked at Parker standing in front of me. His dark brown hair was short and very stylish. My hair was cut in a neat fade and my facial hair was thick. I’d kept a standing appointment with my barber every Sunday morning at ten for the last five years.

“Thank you,” I said, holding out my hand to take the manila folder that contained the forms from him. Like some cheesy porno with ridiculous circumstances to set up a sexual scenario, the folder fell through my fingers, all the papers scattering on my office floor.

“Oh, sorry!” he exclaimed. “That’s my bad.” He bent over to pick up the documents, noticing there were more papers to gather than he first realized. He then got on his knees in front of my desk and once again I got to take in his beautiful ass. The fabric of his slacks pulled tight against his butt. His back was slightly arched, as if advertising himself to me. What I wouldn’t give to be bucking my hips behind him. I thought about fucking him constantly, and it had become an obsession. I’d definitely gotten the vibe that he was gay, but I had some serious doubts he’d ever want to hook up with me. “Here you go,” he said, hopping to his feet and handing me the papers.

Almost like it was trying to embarrass me and purposely kill my arousal, my stomach growled.

“Sorry,” I said. I couldn’t believe how hot my face got. My stomach growling was only going to draw attention to the fact that I was twice his size. The portion of goodies I received from Parker at the start of the day was on the smaller side, so that hadn’t helped to dull my hunger pains.

“It’s okay.” He smiled. “It’s lunchtime.” I felt my face go hot once more.

“Yeah, I guess I am kind of hungry.”

“You’re a pretty big guy. I get it.” He fidgeted with one of the buttons on his dress shirt. “Do you, maybe, want to take lunch with me today?” 

“I’ve never eaten with one of my assistants before,” I said, in disbelief he wanted to spend time with me outside of the office.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can just pick something up for you if you’d prefer—”

I stood quickly, not wanting to pass up any opportunity to talk to him about topics not related to copies or signatures or meetings. My gut shook a bit with the momentum. The buttons had given me a difficult time when getting dressed, and I needed to get some new shirts.

“I’m free for lunch,” I exclaimed. “We can go now.”

There were a ton of restaurants in the downtown area. I asked what he wanted to eat and he deferred to me, claiming he wanted me to get whatever I was craving. If I were able to get whatever I was craving, it would be the Parker Jeong meal, extra sauce. He’d probably think that was so cringe. I sighed to myself.

“There’s this place called The Coop,” I said, giving my second choice for lunch. “They serve Nashville style hot chicken.”

At the restaurant he got a normal sized portion of food for a normal sized person, and I wanted to be good, but I needed to replace the lust I was feeling with something else, and that something else was two Nashville hot chicken sandwiches, a large fry, baked beans, coleslaw, and a strawberry mint frozen lemonade.

He didn’t even bat an eye, offering to pick up our trays while I waited at the table. I knew he was just being nice to me because I was his boss. I’d paid for the food, so he was probably just still in assistant mode.

“Order up,” he said, returning to where we sat, setting my overstuffed tray in front of me.

“Thank you,” I said, taking in his tray with three tenders and a medium fry.

“Do you like to eat here a lot?” he asked, sipping from his unsweetened iced tea. Coming from someone else, that would’ve felt like a jab, but from him it just felt conversational.

“I do like this place a lot. Especially for the downtown area. The portions aren’t skimpy and it tastes pretty good too.”

“What other places do you like?”

“Oh, well that’s easy,” I said, digging into my first sandwich. “There’s Tripp’s for seafood, Curry House for Indian, Miss Janie’s for BBQ, oh yeah—Sub Daddy has these huge hoagies. Best in the city. And they’re open late!”

“Sub Daddy?” he laughed. “What kind of name is that?”

“Well, maybe they’re leaning into the innuendo?”

“Hmm, maybe,” he said, looking down at his tenders. “We’ll have to eat there together soon, though Dom Daddies are actually more my speed.”

Was that directed towards me? There was no chance. Absolutely no way. He wasn’t flirting. He wasn’t coming on to me. But still—even if his comment meant nothing, I could feel myself getting hard. 

I took another big bite of my sandwich, trying not to fuck things up. If I lost another assistant they’d probably open an investigation or something to figure out what I did to keep running them off.

“So, um, how’s your food?” I asked, deflecting. 

The vibes never quite got back on track after that. I was too wound up and way too invested in my food. If my inability to hold conversation wasn’t enough to scare him off, me stuffing my face for fifteen minutes straight surely did the job.

We made our way back to the office and finished up for the day. It was a little after five when Parker peeked his head into my office. 

“Have a good night, Mr. Reynolds.” He hesitated for a moment. “Oh, and thanks for lunch.” 

“No problem. I enjoyed your company.” I did enjoy his company. Even with how poorly I felt things went, it was nice being out in public with him. I had to remind myself it wasn’t a date and only lunch between colleagues.

“About the joke I made,” he started, stepping completely into my office and closing the door. “I am so sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon.”

“Don’t even sweat it,” I said, knowing I sent him into this spiral because I was now inept at talking to cute men. Things had been so much easier ten years ago.

“I am gay,” he continued. “I know some people feel a type of way about that sort of thing. I just don’t want it to ruin our relationship.”

“You don’t need to disclose your sexual orientation, there are policies in place to protect people from discrimination in the workplace and I’d never treat you poorly because of something like that because—”

“Because you’re a really good boss, I know. I’m sorry I even thought you’d treat me differently. It’s just—the real world is way different than a college campus.”

I was about to come out to him. What did I even think was going to happen? Were we going to fuck, me taking control as his sought after Dom Daddy? I was being ridiculous. Of course he was concerned about his career. 

“Are you going to be much longer?” he asked.

“Yeah, I have to catch up on some work for that supercenter presentation next week.” He started to take off his jacket. “No need to do that, Parker.”

“I can help,” he said. 

“No, that’s okay. Don’t ruin your evening,” I said, still feeling embarrassed by this whole debacle. I could use his help. The copy room was unbearably small and I didn’t want to have to keep squeezing in and out of there. 

“But if you need my help, I can help.” He smiled. “It’s my job. I’m your assistant.” 

I was glad he wanted to help me. He was truly the best assistant I‘d ever had and not just because he had such a fantastic ass. I didn’t want to come across as demanding or difficult to work with, but selfishly, I wanted to spend more time with him.

“Well, okay,” I relented. “As long as you’re free.” 

“I’ll order us something from Sub Daddy,” he said, heading back out to his station. “It’s been hours since lunch. You can’t focus on an empty stomach.”

After that, we worked late a lot, and went to lunch together even more often. He was more than willing to try new restaurants with me, always encouraging me to order as much as I wanted. He always offered to treat me, but I never let him. What sense did that make? He only ever ate a fourth of what I did.

His personality was pleasant, which didn’t make it easier for me to stifle my crush on him. Who wouldn’t be into him? He was smart, hardworking, fun, and considerate. He knew how to bake and never made me feel bad about eating what I wanted. I had gotten into the habit of eating more and more when I was around him. I hardly noticed until all the food was gone. I found myself to be less nervous when I was stuffing my face. It felt less likely that I’d say something dumb. When I was 70 pounds lighter, I was way more willing to flirt or say something corny to make a guy laugh. But now I felt like everything I said or did seemed desperate. And so instead of talking, I stuffed my face. In the two months Parker had been working with me, I’d gained ten pounds.

On our late nights, I always told him he could leave but he never did. Not once.

That was enough to keep my delusional fantasies about him going.

He started mentioning clubs and bars, asking if I’d ever want to go with. I figured it was just a gesture, and I was way too rusty to ever take him up on the offer, but maybe one day I could. The more I got to know him, the more I found myself thinking that maybe, just maybe, he was interested in me too.

My pants had gotten even tighter; I needed some new ones. My thighs filled them out completely and my ass was getting pretty big too. I’d never gotten around to getting those new shirts, and now I needed new pants. I had to face it. I was fat, and with my habits, I was just going to keep getting fatter.

It was late October, and one of the other execs was celebrating his fiftieth. His assistant and a few of the interns had organized a little office party for him after lunch. I’d already eaten these really delicious chocolate covered pretzel sticks Parker made me and something he’d picked up for me from The Coop for lunch.

Everyone filed into our largest conference room. There were a few toasts and it was a decent time overall. Then the cake was revealed. It was from a nice bakery near our office that people always used when doing festive things like this. 

It was time to admit to myself that I loved sweets, and with Parker’s kind gestures, I had tried tons of things I’d never eaten before.

I moseyed on over to the cake, planning to only have a piece. Just enough to be polite to the planning committee. But it was delicious. It was a strawberry lemon layer cake, the perfect marriage between tart and sweet flavors. The lemon cake layers were separated by a delightful strawberry compote (a term I’d learned from Parker), which was also incorporated into the rich buttercream frosting. 

By the time I finished my (substantial) piece, Parker discreetly replaced my empty plate with another that had an even larger slice. He did this three more times while we mingled with others from the office. I must have ended up having a third of that cake to myself. 

Returning to my office after the celebration gave me time to reflect. I tried to get some work done, but it was hard to focus, especially with the buttons on my yet to be replaced shirt and slacks straining.

What was Parker trying to do? Was he simply being an attentive assistant or was he subtly making fun of me? Or maybe I was just too in my head and he was attracted to me? He’d never done or said anything that alluded to disliking me because of my size. But that didn’t mean he was attracted to me because of it either. I looped through variations of the same arguments over and over.

I must’ve overanalyzed those different scenarios for a good fifteen minutes before shifting my focus back to work. I’d already sent Parker to the art department to collect some mock-ups we’d need, but I couldn’t move forward in my current task without making some photocopies. 

I was going to have to face the dreaded copy room.

Minutes later, I stood outside of the copy room. I paused momentarily to psych myself up before proceeding. The room was not spacious to begin with, but with multiple built-in cabinets full of office supplies on one wall and a line of photocopiers on the other, the only space for a person to move was a narrow strip of floor down the middle of the room. I walked up the aisle to one of the machines in the center of the room.

So far, so good. I made one of my copies, and proceeded to the next. Still good. I moved on to my last document. That’s when the machine jammed.

“Fuck me,” I said to myself, sighing. I took a step back, my ass already brushing against a cabinet. I leaned forward, opening the side panel and noticing the jammed paper immediately. This would be an easy fix, thankfully. I was bending my knees slightly, and I could feel the fabric of my slacks pulling tight against my beefy behind. It might have just been my anxiety, but I swear I could feel the stitch on the rise of my pants stretching to its limit. I made a mental note to myself that at this point some new items in my wardrobe were necessary, not optional.

I removed the jammed paper, made my last copy, and swiftly made my exit from that claustrophobic space. Bull in a china shop, meet Andrew Reynolds in the copy room. 

I paused for a moment, as I could hear Parker’s voice.

“I really should be getting back.”

“Come on, Parker. You can’t actually like working with Andy.” I backpedaled before I could be seen. It was Antoinette, one of the office gossips. She’d been close with my previous administrative assistant.

“Yeah, I do,” Parker said, sounding somewhat bothered. “He’s really very nice. And super smart.” Whoa. He was actually sticking up for me. I could hardly believe it.

“You’re gay, right?”

What a segue. Antoinette was likely upset he wasn’t down to badmouth me, ready to move the conversation in a direction she found more interesting.

“Uh, yeah, I am,” he said, his tone slightly more annoyed. 

“You don’t like him, do you?” Antoinette pushed. “Because you’re probably barking up the wrong tree with that one. He’s never been with anyone since I started here, and it’s been seven years.”

“Mr. Reynolds might just be a private person. He could have a wife and kids at home. You don’t know.” At this, she laughed.

“I highly doubt that.” Parker likely made a face, as she then said, “Now don’t give me that look. I wasn’t trying to upset you. I hadn’t realized how much you looked up to Andy.” She couldn’t have sounded more sarcastic.

“Like I said,” he reiterated. “I really should be getting back.”

“Okay, wait. I only bring it up because there’s someone else in the office who is interested in you.” She sounded like some sort of matchmaker.

“Toni, please.” He sounded even more irritated. “I don’t think my love life is any of your business, and I don’t need you to hook me up with anyone.”

“Mark is the one that wanted me to talk to you. He really likes you,” Antoinette continued. Mark was a copywriter that had started two or three years after I did. He’d never gotten over the fact that I’d been promoted and he hadn’t.

“I’m flattered, truly,” Parker replied. “But please tell him I’m not interested.”

“Fine, but here’s his card anyway.” There was a slight pause. “But you’ve got to be real with me. Working with Andy must be hard. I heard from his last assistant that he was so demanding, and not about work matters. She spent most of her time placing food orders and picking up his take-out.” She laughed. “Did you see all that cake he ate at Dave’s party this afternoon? That’s why he’s not with somebody. Who wants to date a pig?” I felt my stomach tighten in embarrassment.

“Watch how you speak about my boss,” Parker responded. “This conversation is over.”

“Fine, I swear—” I could hear her heels clicking on the linoleum of the hallway as she walked away from the corner in which they’d been speaking. I could then hear Parker’s steps as he headed towards the copy room. 

I froze.

What could I do? There was nowhere to hide. I was in the world’s smallest copy room, and even if there was somewhere to hide, there was no way I’d fit into that hiding spot. I just stood there, ready to face the awkwardness. He turned the corner quickly, bumping into my stomach.

He stumbled back, almost losing his balance. He dropped all the samples from the art department. I could feel that tight feeling in my stomach again, my mouth going dry. He must have known I was listening.

“Mr. Reynolds?” he mused. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” He knelt down and started picking up the papers.

“No apologies, please. It’s my fault.” 

I bent over quickly to help him and there was a loud ripping sound. The same seam in my pants that had worried me moments before gave way. I could tell immediately that my pants had split down the back.

I stood up straight immediately. I could feel his eyes on my face. 

“Andrew,” he said softly. 

No, not the pity. I could feel it coming, and that would make me feel worse. I pushed past him, leaving him alone in that tiny room to gather the scattered papers. I waddled awkwardly back to my office to grab my jacket. I didn’t want the pants to rip anymore than they already had. I needed to get some new slacks. 

Taking a moment, I looked in the mirror on the back of my office door. My blue button up shirt didn’t hide my large, round belly. I’d really let things get bad these last few months. I had completely lost all restraint since meeting Parker. I was happy-eating when he brought me his baked goods. I was nervous-eating when we went out to lunch together. I was sad-eating at home when I thought about how much it sucked to have unrequited feelings. 

My love handles sloped away from my torso down over the side of my pants. My pants looked like they’d been painted on my meaty thighs. When did my face get so round? If I shaved my beard how many chins would I find? More than the one I remembered when I started working here ten years ago? I had once had a square jaw, but I knew now it would be backed by a second chin, with a new layer of fat likely being formed behind that. My round cheeks made my eyes look smaller than they were in my youth. I even had a light dabbling of sweat on my forehead from my dash back into my office.

“Mr. Reynolds?” Parker called gently as he knocked at my door. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” I said, speaking slowly. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” he inquired. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I need to head out for an errand, so please make sure you reschedule the rest of my meetings this afternoon.” 

“Do you need to go shopping?” he asked. 

I could have leaped from my office window—and we were on the twentieth floor. Any chance of ever being with Parker was surely ruined. I needed to rip off the Band-Aid and get this interaction over with. I opened my office door. 

“I could help you pick some things out,” he suggested. “I am your assistant. And I know it’s a stereotype, but I have a pretty good fashion sense.” He was trying so hard to be nice to me. 

“This is my problem.” I was still speaking slowly, forcing the words out in a way that likely came off as short. “This is a personal matter, not something to do with work.”

He didn’t say anything. He turned and walked over to his desk, rummaging in one of the drawers. He held a tiny sewing kit in his hands as he strode back over to where I stood. He placed his hand on my stomach, pushing me back into the office before closing the door.

“I understand you would rather shop alone, but I’m not going to let my boss walk around with a split in his pants.” What was he expecting me to do? Strip? There was no way.

“Parker—”

“We don’t have to make a big deal out of this, sir,” he said. “Just take off your pants and hand them here. I can mend them in less than fifteen minutes.”

“Really, that’s not necessary.”

He just stood there, looking at me expectantly. I didn’t want to walk around exposed until I could get to a clothing store. It would only take him fifteen minutes. I took a deep breath and unbuckled my belt. It was a brown leather material that matched my loafers, which I’d slid out of before shimmying out of my too-tight navy slacks.

I could see myself in the mirror behind my office door again. Here I was in my boxer briefs, Parker standing right in front of me, and it wasn’t a scenario I’d previously imagined. He crouched down in front of me, grabbing the pants so I wouldn’t have to bend over.

He inspected the rip for a moment. “This is perfect. It’s not frayed or anything.”

“You really think you can fix them?”

“A temporary fix, yes.” He walked towards one of the extra chairs in my office and had a seat. Things were silent for a few minutes as he threaded the needle and got started on the repair. I’d taken a seat behind my desk and watched him work.

His skin was so smooth, his lips kissably full, his nose a little large for his face.

“I can see why these split,” he said, not looking up from his work. His words abruptly hit me and filled the silence in a way that sat heavy on my mind.

“Me too.” He still hadn’t looked up at me. He just continued mending my pants. 

“I knew I needed new ones, and I—” The words got caught in my throat. I was already embarrassed, so maybe it was time for me to just speak honestly, but speaking honestly kind of felt like admitting defeat. It felt like I was giving up on taking things in an intimate direction with Parker. “I’ve been putting it off. They probably could’ve held on a bit longer, but I’ve put on some weight recently.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Guys like you don’t get it. You could have anyone you wanted.”

“What if I wanted you, Andrew?”

He finally looked up from his work. I must’ve been looking at him stone faced, because his bravado faltered almost immediately.

“Mr. Reynolds—I’m so sorry. That was out of line.”

Parker’s confession allowed me to push past that voice in my head that explained away all the things he did as platonic. He liked me. He wanted me. He’d said so himself.

Before the self-doubt set in, I had to shoot my shot. I’d sulk about my split pants late at night years from now, but right at this moment I refused to return to that negative place. He wanted a Dom Daddy, and that was a role I was more than willing to play.

“What if I told you I wanted to fuck you right now?” His face reddened considerably. I’d never seen him so worked up before, and that made me more confident. “Since the day I hired you, I’ve thought about what it’d feel like to be inside of that sweet ass.”

“Sir—”

“C’mere,” I said in a low voice. He stood, placing my slacks in the seat he’d gotten up from, and gingerly made his way to where I sat behind my desk. He looked down at me slightly as I sat, but we were essentially still on eye level with one another. I could see his chest rising and falling with each breath he took, his lips parted slightly in lust. He pressed his crotch into my gut as he leaned down to kiss me. I could feel his erection through his khakis.

I reached up and palmed his ass, holding a cheek in each hand. He really was stacked back there. He moaned slightly, pressing his dick further into my stomach. We continued kissing, and I pulled him even closer into myself.

I could have kissed him like this for hours, but he pulled away after a few minutes. His palms were pressed against my sagging chest, which sat atop my heavy middle. He slid his hands down my front before resting them on the part of my gut that sat out the farthest. Normally, my first instinct would have been to suck it in, but I realized how useless that would have been. There was no hiding it anymore.

He patted my stomach gently before moving his hands beneath it, lifting it and bouncing it up and down slowly. I could see his hardness through his khakis, so it was clear that he was enjoying himself. If I were to be honest with myself, I was enjoying the belly play too. I’d never had someone focus so intently on my gut before.

I stood up, and he tilted his head back to continue meeting my gaze. I had to play this correctly. I knew he made a joke about liking dominant men, but I wasn’t certain it was actually what he was into.

“Get on your knees,” I said, staring down at him.

“Yes sir.”

He knew what I wanted. He pawed at my underwear until it was around my ankles. My dick bobbed freely now, level with his line of sight. The closer he got to me, the harder I got and the harder it was to see him. He reached up with one hand to hold my belly out of the way and with the other he grabbed the base of my dick.

“Get to work,” I instructed. I grabbed a fistful of his hair as he wrapped his mouth around my dick. It had been a while, but I couldn’t recall a better blow. He was a perfectionist in every sense of the word. His one hand gently massaged the base of my gut as he continued sucking me off. I’d been with people who liked that I wasn’t rail thin, but never with someone like Parker. Everything was adding up. The special treats, the lunches together, the cake at the party this afternoon. He liked me being fat, and I was now fairly certain he wanted me even fatter. “I’m about to cum.”

He didn’t stop his work. He simply slowed his pace, teasing my dick with his tongue in a different way. The switch in sensation caused me to erupt. A heavy stream of cum shot from my dick into his mouth and he made sure to get every last drop. I let go of his hair, stepping back so I could have a seat.

I was panting heavily, my underwear around my ankles, gut rising and falling with each deep breath I took. He looked up at me from his place on the floor. His hair was disheveled and his face was flushed. I could still see his erection through his khakis. Damn, he was the hottest guy I’d ever seen. I could hardly believe he was experiencing such intense lust over me.

“You’re something else,” I said, still catching my breath. “And I can’t believe it, but I’d kill for another piece of that cake right now.”

That had him up on his feet, speed-walking from my office and back to the conference room. He was so out of it, he’d probably run to that bakery to get me another piece if he had to.

This shift in our relationship was going to be interesting.

I wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen immediately following our initial sexual encounter, but we went about our weekends like nothing had changed. After eating one of the final slices of that cake from the office party, I left early to purchase some new clothing items. He texted me, and I replied, but neither of us mentioned what had happened.

So Monday morning came and I had spent the entire weekend eating optimistically. I thought about how much he’d want me to be eating good. At one point, I googled “gay fat fetish” and found there was a whole world of people not only into big guys, but into big guys getting even bigger. Maybe he’d bring it up, but now I wanted to test the waters a little. What sort of things would get him going? I was excited to find out. Monday morning, I was hard the entire commute to work thinking about demolishing whatever Parker planned to put in front of me. 

I walked into the elevator, pressing the button that would lead me to the twentieth floor. I noticed Parker making his way toward the elevators. Just seeing him existing in the world made me so fucking happy. I almost didn’t even notice that Mark was right next to him. I hit the door open button quickly, wanting to be near Parker as soon as possible, even if that meant sharing the space with Mark. The doors stayed open, and they both got on.

“Good Morning, Mr. Reynolds.” He smiled up at me. He was carrying a tote bag, and like some sort of sugar-addicted bloodhound, I was almost certain I could smell cinnamon. 

“Parker, hey,” I said, covering my crotch with my bag. Just hearing him say my name was turning me on, giving me a semi. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Hello Andrew,” Mark said. To be completely honest, I’d blocked him out almost immediately. He and I weren’t on the best terms, especially after my promotion.

“Hey Mark.”

“Are you still hitting the gym?” he asked. “Since you got that promotion, I’ve noticed a change in your appearance. I’m sure you’re eating well on that executive salary.”

“I do have a hand in that,” Parker said plainly. “Mr. Reynolds is very kind to indulge my personal baking hobby.”

“But still,” Mark pressed. “Sometimes we’ve got to push ourselves, you know? Once you hit thirty it takes more effort to stay in shape.”

“I think he looks great,” Parker offered, turning to look at Mark. He gave him an obvious once over, his eyes traveling from the top of his head all the way to his shoes. “Do you work out, Mark?”

“Yeah, I do actually,” Mark responded proudly. “Six days a week.”

“Really?” Parker inquired. “I’d have never thought that.”

The man was too stunned to speak.

We all stood silent, the whir of the elevator’s mechanisms the only source of sound. The elevator finally stopped on our floor. Parker and I went towards my office while Mark made his way to his cubicle. Parker placed the tote bag on his desk and I stopped for a moment.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, giving a knowing smile.

“I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean.”

“You’re something else.”

“I’m nothing special,” he said, removing two Tupperware containers from the tote bag. “So today you have options. You could have some millionaire shortbread bars or carrot cake cinnamon rolls.”

“Or? You act like I’m not going to polish off both of these containers before we head out for lunch.”

“Uh—well, I—I didn’t think you’d want—”

He looked up at me in surprise, like he’d been found out. I’d known Parker for a couple of months now, and I’d never seen him so flustered. It made me weirdly satisfied. He wanted me to eat? He wanted me to put on a few pounds? If he kept blowing me like he had last week, I’d eat whatever he wanted for the rest of my life.

“I bought some new pants, so I can probably keep indulging for a little while. I need my assistant to make sure I don’t go hungry. That’s not a problem, is it?”

“No, sir,” he said. “Not a problem at all, sir.”

“I didn’t think it would be.” I grabbed both containers and went into my office, peeling off both lids and diving into the baked goods with unabashed enthusiasm. Over that first hour of the day, I ate a dozen shortbread bars and six hefty cinnamon rolls. 

Once I’d finished both desserts, I sat back at my desk. I felt my chair sag, groaning slightly as I allowed my bulk to settle into the seat. This was so unhinged. What was happening to me? Maybe it was all the sugar, but I was in some sort of stupor. My only thought was how I wanted Parker between my legs again, his hands all over my gut. I leaned forward and put my head in my hands. I must’ve sat there for about ten minutes before there was a knock at my door. “Mr. Reynolds?”

“Come in.” Parker opened the door and walked up to my desk. I watched him survey the scene. I laughed a little to myself at the shocked expression on his face as he took in both containers sitting empty in front of me.

“You already finished the–the–the shortbread bars?”

“And the cinnamon rolls,” I added. “They were both phenomenal. You’ve got quite the talent.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I only wish I’d had some milk to wash it all down with.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that for next time.”

“There is something you could do for me right now,” I said. He looked back at my office door, which he’d left open. He went over to the door and closed it quietly.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Reynolds?”

“You could get that ass over here, for starters.”

He made his way to where I sat behind my desk, like he had on Friday. We looked at one another for a moment, both taking in the moment. It probably wasn’t smart to fuck my assistant before 10 AM on a Monday, but I’d spent nearly two years involuntarily celibate.

“Get undressed.”

He didn’t question me. He immediately began unbuttoning his crisp, white dress shirt. He tossed it on my desk and then peeled his undershirt off over his head. He shimmied out of his navy-colored chinos. He was in nothing but a pair of stylish briefs. It was obvious he worked out, as his quads bulged with muscle as did his arms. He had well-defined abs, firm pecs. 

His body was completely opposite to my own. My legs and arms were large, yes, but not defined with muscle as they had been in the past. I’d never had abs in my entire life. My stomach sat heavy in front of me, packed full of sugary snacks. And even though I’d just eaten enough baked goods for a small get-together, I was already thinking about what I’d be having for lunch.

“What’re we doing for lunch?” I asked. His whole face reddened, all the way to his ears. I reached out to pull him closer, so I could feel his body with my mouth. I kissed his chest softly, enjoying his scent in the process. “I asked you what we’re doing for lunch.”

He moaned loudly.

“Last—last week you mentioned you wanted an—an Italian beef from—” I bit his nipple gently, sucking it afterwards. “Big Beef’s.”

“Fuck that sounds good. With extra hot peppers and a cheese sauce on the side.” He pawed at his briefs, exposing himself to me. He had a nice dick, a respectable size. He was getting off on this for sure. I let go of his waist and began to unbutton my own shirt. He watched me intently, still stroking his penis. I tossed it on the desk with his clothing items.

He paused his masturbatory efforts to help me remove my undershirt. His briefs were now around his ankles and he pressed his dick into my gut. I grabbed at his ass, lightly teasing his hole with my finger as he grinded against me. He didn’t last long after that, coming all over my bloated stomach. He took a step back. Looking down, I could see his cum glistening as it coated the fuzz of my belly. “You’re not done,” I said, lifting my gut to reveal my belt buckle.

A man of excellent intuition, Parker immediately got me out of my pants and gave me some very thorough head.

Oh, and lunch at Big Beef’s that afternoon was stupendous.

We fell into a routine that made every work day well worth it. He was still bringing me his baked goods (beverages now included). We left the office whenever possible to grab a bite to eat during our lunch hour, and when we couldn’t get away he made sure to pick something up for me or to have it delivered. But the best part had to be our sexual escapades. I’d had nearly every part of his body in my mouth at least once. And he was excellent at taking direction. I was pretty sure at this point that he craved it, being told what to do. He was my good boy, doing what I requested, often going above and beyond like there was a chance of being promoted.

From the end of October to the start of the winter holidays, he and I were completely engrossed with one another. Although, even with how intense things had been within the four walls of my office, we had yet to move beyond them.

It was now the second week of December. I was nearing 400 pounds, a thought that was slightly frightening to me. I’d never been this big in my entire life. People around the office had taken notice of my rapid weight gain. It was the elephant in the room. But the food was good, and the sex mind-blowing. I was also intoxicated by Parker’s adoration. With each pound I gained, he seemed to get more and more excited to service me. I wondered how much longer my wardrobe would last before needing to be updated again.

“Excuse me, Mr. Reynolds.” I looked up from the email I was drafting. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

“Yeah? What is it?” I inquired, wondering what it was Parker had been mulling over. He was shifting his weight back and forth, nervously smiling in my direction like the day I hired him.

“Well, my parents bought me these tickets to a musical a few weeks ago, and I know that it’s last minute, but I was really hoping you would come with me to see it.”

“A musical?”

“What can I say?” he offered, shrugging slightly. “I’m as stereotypical as they come.”

“When is it?” I asked.

“Tomorrow.” A Saturday.

Was Parker trying to take things to the next level? This was an exciting development. I would love to spend time with him outside of working hours. I could only imagine how much fun we’d have late into the evening post dinnertime.

“If it’s too much, I understand.”

Too much? Not at all. We both wanted more. It was like a weight had been lifted from me (metaphorically, of course). The office sexcapades were nice, there was no doubt about that, but he too wanted to be more than just a hook-up.

“You just can’t get enough of me, huh?”

He laughed.

“I’m kind of obsessed, can’t you tell?”

“I love being adored,” I said, smiling at him playfully. “And now I’m really looking forward to this musical tomorrow. What’s the runtime? Over two hours, I’m sure. I’ll probably need to eat something beforehand.”

“I’ll make a reservation,” he declared enthusiastically, always delighted at an opportunity to get me eating. I was only half-serious with my comment about needing to eat beforehand, but I wasn’t so sure I’d make it the two and a half hours without a meal prior to the curtain rising. I felt incredibly lucky. We’d be getting dinner and seeing a show (and hopefully having even more fun at one of our apartments after).

Once he made the reservation, he emailed over all the info—the restaurant, the reservation time, the name of the theater, the showtime. I could hardly wait. I’d be counting the milliseconds until then. 

The next evening, I dressed to meet Parker for our date. I wore a pair of dark jeans and some Nikes. When I first landed that account, they’d sent over at least ten different pairs. I had lots of dress shirts that fit fairly well since I re-upped, but I wanted to be a little more casual. I found a burgundy crew neck in the back of my dresser that had been a staple in my wardrobe last winter. I pulled it on and found myself shocked at how it fit. I figured there’d be some resistance, but the fabric clung to my plump chest and protruding belly in a way that was much more form-fitting than I anticipated. I tugged at the bottom trying to pull it down to cover the entirety of my stomach. If I moved my arms too much, it exposed some of my brown skin, even though I was also wearing an undershirt.

My first inclination was to change. I wouldn’t have normally wanted to draw attention to my size. But I knew what Parker liked, and I loved pressing his buttons, so I put on my jacket and grabbed my keys, deciding to keep on the sweater. I hoped I wouldn’t come to regret my outfit choice later on.

I was right on time to Haraboji’s, and as I entered the restaurant, I noticed my perfectly punctual assistant had already beaten me to the establishment.

“Mr. Reynolds, over here!” He waved at me from a seat at the bar. I felt silly for being this excited, considering we ate together in restaurants every other day, but this was no work-lunch. This was a Saturday night dinner. A date.

“Parker, hey,” I said, smiling down at my companion for the evening. He was still wearing his jacket, a stylish, olive-green duffle coat. He had on a pair of platform Chelsea boots and dark chinos. “Please, call me Andy, or Andrew—even Drew would be fine.” 

“Oh, yes, of course,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “I guess we aren’t in the office.”

“That’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he replied. “I’ve wanted to eat here with you for months.”

“I’ve heard this place is really good.”

“Have you ever had Korean barbecue before?” he asked. “I haven’t been to a Korean restaurant since I moved here.”

“I haven’t, but you know I’ll try anything. I trust you to make sure I have something tasty.”

After that the hostess called Parker’s name and we were seated. It was pretty crowded, every table filled. In front of us was a little grilling station. Our waiter came and Parker took the reins, ordering what seemed like a lot of food for just two people. He asked for bulgogi, pork belly, garlic butter chicken, and brisket. He also ordered fried seaweed rolls and tteokbokki. Our waiter brought out a lot of little dishes with different vegetables on them.

“These are banchan—um, side dishes,” Parker explained. “They’re really good with the grilled meats. That one is cucumber, that one is potato, and that one is zucchini.”

“And that one is kimchi.”

“Yes, exactly!”

Our waiter returned with another worker to assist him. One of them held our appetizers, the other numerous plates of raw meat on a serving platter. Once all the plates were set out in front of us, it seemed truly excessive. Parker got to work immediately, oiling the grill and placing meat on it strategically. As things were cooked he piled them high on my plate. Everything tasted great and I followed every suggestion he gave me. “Eat this with that,” he’d say, hyper focused on his grilling. “Ooo, you’ve got to try that with this dipping sauce.”

Halfway through the meal, I noticed that he was no longer eating. I seemed to be his main priority. I was now regretting my earlier boldness when getting dressed for this outing. My sweater rose slightly on my stomach exposing the light layer of dark hair on my underbelly. Parker didn’t stop either, making sure to cook every piece of meat that had been provided to us.

“There’s also Korean fried chicken on the menu,” he said, having just finished grilling the last bit of bulgogi and pork belly. “They come in orders of four.”

I groaned slightly, sitting back in my seat and resting my hand on the top of my gut.

That was when the waiter returned, taking in my gorged state his face reddened on my behalf and he focused his attention on Parker. “Is there anything else I can get for you guys?”

“Yes, we wanted a double order of the fried chicken wings and a bottle of peach soju.”

The waiter glanced in my direction and then back at Parker. He probably couldn’t believe we were ordering more food. I couldn’t believe we were ordering more food, but my date was a man on a mission. We did have about forty minutes before we needed to be at the theater, but I still thought he was cutting it close.

“I’ll put that in right now.” I waited for our server to leave before speaking. 

“I’m spilling out of my sweater and you're still shoving food in my direction.”

“Andy,” he said innocently. “You don’t want to be hungry while the show is going on. You said so yourself, remember?”

“How considerate of you,” I responded, sitting up. I grabbed my fork and started in on the last bit of meat he’d put on my plate. “And I can’t wait to thank you at my place after the show.”

After dinner at Haraboji’s, we made our way to the theater for the musical. I’d already parked my Buick Enclave in a parking garage on the same street as the restaurant. He informed me that he picked this restaurant not only because he’d been wanting to try it, but also because it was only a block away from where we’d be seeing the show.

I was so full I didn’t feel like doing anything, especially walking. I was perspiring a little bit so I left my jacket open to air myself out. I could feel a cool breeze on my stomach, but I just ignored it. Parker was leading the way, glancing my way every so often to check me out. If his parents hadn’t gone through the trouble of buying him these tickets, we’d already be halfway to my place.

We made it to the lobby and the worker scanned the tickets on Parker’s phone. There was about ten minutes until the show would start so we made our way to our seats. This was where things got awkward.

Personally, when purchasing tickets in advance, I always tried to get the seat closest to the aisle. But these two seats were right in the middle of a row. Not everyone was in their seats yet, but we’d still need to shimmy past five or so people. Parker seemed somewhat oblivious to this issue, and in his defense, he likely never faced this sort of problem. Being bigger meant anticipating any obstacle. Would there be a lot of walking? Would there be a lot of stairs? How sturdy were the seats? I’d always thought about these things, but having gained fifty pounds in the last five months created even more complications I needed to be ready for.

“Excuse us,” Parker said, making his way into the row. He got by the first person with ease, whereas the man needed to stand up for me and press himself as far back into his seat as possible. Even then, my gut pushed up against him as I made my way past him. This happened four more times until we made it to our seats.

I sat in the chair and it creaked loudly. It was a really tight squeeze. This was not a theater that had been updated this century. It had probably been forty or fifty years since there had been any type of alteration to the seating. The armrests could not be lifted, so I sat there as they dug into the sides of my bloated gut. Fuck, I thought. Maybe we shouldn’t have gone so hard at dinner.

“Isn’t there like a special section for bigger people?” the woman next to me asked the man she was with. She was at least trying to whisper, but considering the fact I was sitting right next to her that didn’t do much to keep me from hearing her. “It’s just, these seats are so small, you know? Even for someone regularly sized.”

I’d been feeling pretty good before all of this happened. I was used to people making comments. But something about this made me really think hard about what I’d been doing to my body. I was already fat. I’d already had horrible eating habits. But should I have let this thing with Parker push me so completely into gluttony? I was the one who had to deal with the wardrobe malfunctions and too-small theater seats. 

Parker was a great person and a masterful lover, but he was also ten years younger than me. If this dalliance were to end, he could go about his life unchanged. But me? How much bigger would I be by the time he got bored of me?

“Andy,” Parker said, his hand on my thigh. “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. This wasn’t the time or place to share my thoughts with him.

“I didn’t pick the seats,” he explained. “Next time, I’ll make sure that we’re on the end.” 

“Thanks.” I exhaled, feeling a little better. Him saying that didn’t absolve all of my fears, but it reminded me of how thoughtful Parker was. Maybe he didn’t know what it was like to be my size, but he did try to consider how my size affected my day-to-day life.

The lights dimmed and the show started a few minutes later. It was pretty funny and the music was enjoyable. I never thought a musical adaptation of an 80’s fantasy-horror-comedy would be any good, but I’d see it again if given the chance. After the cast took their bows we waited for our row to clear out before we got up. I could tell he really enjoyed himself, so that made the two and half hours in that seat from hell worth it.

“I Ubered here from my apartment,” he said once we were outside.

“I’m in that parking garage by the restaurant,” I said. “I could give you a ride home.”

“You did say you needed to thank me at dinner.”

“Oh, I know just how to thank you.” It was nearly ten, and aside from the people who were also leaving the theater, there weren’t a ton of people around. I grabbed Parker’s hand and we went to my car. I asked him where he lived and other than that I just listened to all the fun facts he had about the production. We were soon out front. “You’re coming up, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course.” I parked and we made our way towards the entrance. He led me up some stairs to his fourth floor apartment. If he lived any higher, we’d have had to call it a night. His place was pretty small, a one bedroom. It was also super neat and tidy. Everything about Parker was that way.

He took off his jacket and hung it in the closet, offering to take mine too in the process. He told me to take a seat on the couch. I sat and realized how little it was. I guess a couch of this size was all he really needed, but it was more like a chair. I filled it up three-fourths of the way.

He carried in a tray with some vanilla oat milk and a container of cookies. He placed it on the coffee table and sat on the remaining one-fourth of sofa. “Consider these as a thank you for a great evening,” he said. “They’re lemon shortbread.”

“You must spend a fortune on butter and eggs.”

“Not at all, I just started buying in bulk when I realized I had someone to bake for.”

“I appreciate getting to eat everything you’ve made for me,” I said, pulling at my sweater, “though I should probably slow down on all the baked goods.” I looked in his direction, wondering how he’d take in that information. He looked a little hurt, a little embarrassed.

“Is everything okay, Andy?” he asked. “With us, I mean. I just thought—”

I could just keep all of these concerns to myself, but that wouldn’t solve anything. It was probably better to have this conversation now instead of later. “I’ve gained a substantial amount of weight since we started sleeping together. I know we haven’t put into words what this is, but I’m pretty sure you’re a feeder—or an encourager—which term is it?” I thought about all the information I found back when I investigated gay fat fetishes a few months ago.

“I think they’re pretty interchangeable.” He wasn’t looking at me. “And I guess that I am, yes.”  He actually looked super pale. Was he scared? Did he think I was upset? I figured he was aware that he’d been found out months ago. He was always so focused on my weight and overfeeding me. His preferences were kind of obvious.

“I’m not upset,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “If I’m being honest, I’m pretty into it.”

He looked up at me, relief overtaking his previously sullen expression. “You are?”

“I think you know I like to eat. And getting bigger is kind of hot when I have someone so into it.”

“I’m into it for sure.”

“My main concern is how serious you are, Parker.” He looked at me intently, waiting for me to continue speaking. “You’re young. You’re still fairly new to the area. When it comes down to it, you’re a hot commodity. Any guy would be lucky to be with you. With how big I was, with how big I’ve gotten, I’m limiting myself. My prospects were slim before, but I’ve probably made the margins even smaller in regards to my marketability.”

“Andrew, I am very serious about you,” he said. “You are the sexiest guy I’ve ever been with. You’re also the biggest guy I've ever been with. Whatever you’re comfortable with, I am willing to do. If you want to lose weight, that’s fine. If you want me to stop with the baking, that’s fine. I just want you. I like you.”

“I like you too. I have since you first started working for me.” Our eyes were locked on one another. This conversation felt so real, so needed. This guy was serious about me. What a relief. “And let’s not be too hasty about the baking. I’ll let you know if we need to slow down, Mr. Feeder.”

This caused his whole face to redden, all the way to his ears. I loved when that happened. It was so funny to see his emotions so clearly. “Now bring that container of cookies over here. I’m hungry.”

Maybe it was reckless of me. Maybe I should’ve taken the out Parker had offered me. But I kept on eating like I had been. I blew past 400 pounds as we entered the new year. He’d flown home for the holidays, so I spent time with my own family. They all showed great concern for how big I’d gotten, but that didn’t stop them from piling my plate high with soul food at Christmas dinner. That was just how my family operated. It’s why I was so big growing up to begin with.

That first Monday back after the winter holidays was nice because we were able to fall back into our normal routine, which included copious amounts of food and a great deal sex. While most people around the office set goals for having a healthier diet or joining a gym, I did nothing of the sort. It was somewhat freeing to know there was no resolution I was bound to break.

Over the first few months of the new year, Parker began spending more and more time at my apartment. Suddenly there was a toothbrush, and then extra pairs of underwear, and then, an item that let me know how serious things had gotten between us, his KitchenAid Stand Mixer.

“You’re here more than at your place,” I said one Saturday evening in April. We’d ordered pizza for dinner, and even though Parker had stopped eating thirty minutes ago, I was still working on an extra-large, tavern-style sausage and pepperoni. I’d already eaten some buffalo wings and a Caesar salad (for balance, of course). “When does your lease end?”

“Well, it ends August of this year.”

“Cancel it.”

“Cancel it?”

“Yeah,” I said, reaching for another slice. “I’ll pay whatever fee your landlord charges for breaking your lease.”

The next week he moved into my three-bedroom apartment. I had more than enough room for his stuff. Even his dollhouse-sized couch fit comfortably against a wall in the home office. This did mean my office baked goods were a thing of the past. They were never able to last long enough after he prepared them to be brought into work. Since meeting Parker nine months ago, I was now 75 pounds heavier.

Parker and I were going to take a long weekend for Memorial Day. We’d both put in for the day off on Friday and we wouldn’t need to return to the office until Tuesday. I’d rented a house up north, about three hours away. The Thursday before we were to leave, Parker frantically entered my office a little after we returned from lunch.

I was positively beached. We were both looking forward to the weekend and he excitedly ordered for me at Rockin’ Sushi. We had purchased enough sashimi, nigiri, and maki rolls for a party of five or six people.

My belly covered my lap almost to my knees when I sat. I normally didn’t dress so casually for the office, but today I was wearing a polo. The fabric was pulled tight around my stomach and I’d been massaging the sides of my gut before Parker came to find me. If he didn’t seem so distraught, I’d have asked him to take over.

“We can’t go out of town,” he said. “We have to reevaluate your accounts.”

“What?” I asked, my eyes half-open. “I have nine major accounts and twelve smaller ones. That’s more than all the other execs.”

“Yes, that’s true, but—” he stopped talking. He probably felt like he’d been overreacting, but I wanted to make sure his worries were quelled.

“Talk to me.”

“I heard from Mr. Monroe’s assistant, who heard from Mr. Otterly’s assistant, that Mr. Otterly plans to retire at the end of June.” John Otterly was well past the age for retirement. His presence at Hathaway and Associates was really just a formality at this point. He’d been an exec at our agency since the mid-seventies. In his prime, for sure, he was incredible at pulling in clients and coming up with catchy slogans for print ads. Now, he had only one major account for a failing brand of novelty gag-gifts. “They’re looking to promote someone, but they want to make the position more robust by taking some accounts from other executives.”

“Bullshit.”

“Agreed.” He watched me heave myself out of my desk chair. “What should we do?”

“Follow me.”

I might have moved a little bit more slowly these days, but with Parker’s help I’d acquired two new clients in the last nine months and strengthened our agency’s relationship with all my original accounts. I wasn’t just some overweight behemoth who didn’t do any work. I was a heavy hitter. I’d recently had a confidence about myself that, shamefully, came from the idolization and devotion Parker gave to me. I was the biggest I’d ever been, but I didn’t feel ashamed of myself. I was already going to draw attention entering a room so I might as well not give a fuck what people thought.

We stopped outside of William Hathaway’s office, whose grandfather had actually founded Hathaway and Associates almost a century ago. We executives kept things running while he received a great deal of the credit, considering he was only in office two days a week. He did hold a forty-five percent share on the board of directors, which was the largest portion of any member. This meant he had a great deal of influence when the board made the large decisions that affected day-to-day operations.

“He’s preparing to leave early for the holiday weekend,” his administrative assistant said plainly. She was also the office manager. Mr. Hathaway’s schedule allowed her to take on more responsibilities, so she helped to organize the tasks for the interns and other assistants. “He doesn’t want to be bothered, especially after the meeting he just had.”

“Martha,” Parker said gently, smiling in her direction. “Mr. Reynolds was hoping to speak with Mr. Hathaway before he left. If he’s not terribly busy, would you please let him?”

“I don’t know. He was pretty adamant that he didn’t want to see anyone else.”

“Didn’t you say your husband liked the chocolate-dipped almond biscotti I made you for your anniversary?”

“Those were divine,” she said, taking more interest in Parker’s plea. I remembered those biscotti. I’d eaten two test batches before he felt confident enough to share them with Martha.

“Weren’t they?” I added. “I don’t know how he does it, but he’s incredibly talented.”

“My husband’s birthday is coming up,” she pondered aloud. “Have you ever made a cake before?”

“Of course!”

They ironed out some details and settled on a tiramisu inspired layer cake. She hopped out of her seat giddily and went to inform Hathaway of our arrival. We got the go ahead to enter and there he was waiting for us behind his desk nursing a scotch.

“Reynolds, you’re bigger every time I see you.”

Hathaway wasn’t one to mince words.

“You’re one to talk. I’m not the only one carrying around a spare tire.” This made him laugh.

“I’m in my sixties, what’s your excuse?” He didn’t stop. “And I’ve got a spare tire, you’ve got a whole Goodyear.”

“Okay, okay,” I said, allowing him to think his ribbing had gotten to me. “I’m just eating good. And my assistant here is a master baker.”

“He is, eh?” Hathaway asked, drinking from his scotch. “You're the biscotti boy?”

“Yes sir. That’s me.”

“Martha, that stingy bitch, only let me have one. Said they were for her anniversary. I’ve got an anniversary. And a birthday.”

“I’ll get those dates from Martha, sir.” Hathaway gave an impressed smirk and took another sip from his drink.

After that, we were finally able to talk business. I asked about Otterly. His retirement was true, a decision “strongly encouraged” by all members of the board. The position being padded with the accounts of other executives was also true. We would be asked in the coming month to choose one or two of our large scale accounts to let go of. When I asked why they didn’t just cut the position, they were concerned about losing their lead copywriter, who voiced concerns about a lack of upward mobility at Hathaway and Associates. He claimed he’d be willing to walk away from the agency unless he was seriously considered for Otterly’s position. 

That lead copywriter? Mark.

If it were anyone else, I would have thought twice about my next course of action. But for Mark? I couldn't care less.

“Well,” I started, hoping I was playing this right. “I say cut Otterly’s position. Give his few accounts to one of us execs, and if he walks, he walks.”

“He’s done good work,” Hathaway offered.

“You can save a great deal by cutting the position. Promote one of the junior copywriters to Mark’s position. And for good measure, Parker here can take the open junior copywriter role.” Parker made a sound of surprise but did his best to recover.

“Biscotti boy?”

“He’s got the Andrew Reynolds seal of approval.” This meant a great deal. I had the most accounts out of all eleven execs. I also had the greatest renewal rates. “I’d be losing the world’s greatest assistant, but I’d do anything for Hathaway and Associates.”

“My great-niece did just graduate from Columbia,” Hathaway said. “I’m sure she’ll need help finding a job with a degree in art history.” If I had to deal with another nepo-baby, so be it. I was keeping my accounts and helping Parker advance in his career.

“Just think about it,” I said, ending our conversation. As we left his office, Martha entered. Before the door closed completely, I heard him mentioning that the board needed to convene after the holiday weekend to vote about an important matter. I had a good feeling that things were going to change for my little Biscotti Boy.

We did still manage to make it up to the house I rented. Fortunately, it was somewhat secluded, the houses pretty far apart from each other. They were only really visible to one another from the front yard. Parker had a long list of grocery items he needed, so our first stop after checking into the rental was the local supercenter. He was obviously grateful for what I’d done in Hathaway’s office, and he spent the weekend showing me that gratitude with his culinary skills and physical flexibility. My favorite memory from our trip would be how he’d gotten me on the floor after grilling some brats and making s’mores.

“Okay, so bend your knees,” he said, swinging his leg around my waist after tossing me a pillow for underneath my head. There wasn’t a ton of space between my bent knees and my bulging belly, but Parker fit there perfectly. He looked down at me as he sat atop my waist, sliding all nine inches of my penis inside himself. He rested his hands on my stomach. Their warmth penetrated me to my core. 

I reached up to grab at his butt as he rode me. It felt good in my hands, and the thought of what it looked like as I fucked him had me salivating. Always the hard worker, Parker swiveled his hips back and forth rhythmically. His dick was angled upwards, sandwiched between the bottom of my gut and his flat stomach. He leaned forward slightly, his hands sliding up my stomach to my chest. He grabbed my slightly puffy nipples and pinched them gently. That intensified the pleasure I was feeling and I lifted him slightly by raising my legs, pushing myself deeper inside of his ass. 

“Oh God,” he moaned, sitting straight up. He bounced up and down like this for nearly a minute before he came. His cum shot up his front, some landing on the floor and on my gut. The look of sheer pleasure on his face was intoxicating. That did it for me too, and had me shooting my load as well.

We stayed on the floor longer than intended. I couldn’t get up just yet, so he covered both of our naked bodies with a large blanket and cuddled up close to me. Losing him as my assistant was going to be tough, but moments like these would make up for it.

Returning to work on Tuesday was fine. I’d have preferred another week in a secluded lake house with Parker, but the real world was waiting for us. Antoinette was in rare form, flitting from assistant to assistant spreading gossip. She was Hathaway and Associates' very own Lady Whistledown, though a lot less discreet. 

Before lunch, the board met to discuss the future of Mr. Otterly’s position. Antoinette made sure everyone knew how they voted, openly voicing her dismay that her good friend Mark would not be shifting to an executive role, as John Otterly’s position would be closed and his accounts redistributed amongst some of the remaining executives.

The ball was now in Mark’s court. He could keep his current job or he could quit. I was hoping for the latter, so Parker could shine in the field he’d gone to school for.

We worked all day and at exactly five we clocked out. We entered the elevator and Mark followed behind us. “That’s some shit you pulled Andy,” he spat. I noticed a cardboard box in his hands.

“You’re referring to what exactly?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“Oh please,” he said. “You get a little ass from your assistant and you’re bending over backwards to get him a promotion. It’s pathetic, but it makes a lot of sense. Why else would he ever waste his time trying to find your dick under that massive gut?”

“You’re out of line,” I said, stepping towards him.

“He’s a sneak and you’re a gullible, desperate, sorry excuse for a professional.” He was upset, understandably, but his job had still been intact. He could’ve continued in his role as lead copywriter, a position I held for over four years before my promotion, and one day he’d be seen as ready to move up in the agency. He’d only been lead copywriter for a year and a half, a role in which he’d been given when the previous lead stepped down to take care of her newborn twins. Mark expected things to be handed to him without putting in the work. Now he was throwing a tantrum, and he wanted to take out his anger on us because he thought we were easy targets.

“Have you ever considered the fact that you just aren’t that likable?” I asked, staring down at him, forcing him into the corner of the elevator. “You’re talented, sure, but you are just so fucking hard to like. Hathaway knows this, the other execs know this. Why do you think it was so easy to encourage them to close Otterly’s position? They don’t want to work any more closely with you than they already do.”

I looked down at the cardboard box. Like a baby, he’d quit when he didn’t get his way. “Or should I say did?”

The elevator stopped on the main floor and the doors opened. Mark looked up at me and then over at Parker. “Fuck the both of you,” he said, pushing past me with slight difficulty. Parker looked pretty mortified, his entire face red with embarrassment.

My little ingénue. He was still very green, and I loved that about him, but I needed him to stand up for himself if he was going to survive in this industry. People made jokes or rude comments. There’d be backstabbing and petty office gossip. At the end of the day it didn’t matter. I was proof of that. There’d been talk about my weight for months, and I was still one of the most successful people on staff.

I’d for sure been in a slump before I met Parker, but I was becoming the man I’d been in my early twenties (metaphorically, not physically). There was a lot less self-doubt and self-loathing. I liked looking at myself in the mirror. I knew that I was good at what I did, and I knew I just needed to carry myself like I had when I was grinding as a junior copywriter. 

“That was really intense,” he said. We’d slowed, pausing in a stairwell. We were halfway between the lobby and the underground parking garage. “I would never sleep with you for that. I swear that I would never do that.”

“I know.” I felt myself smiling. It made me feel good that he liked me so much. His first thought was how I felt. He was always looking out for me, and if he did get a new role as a copywriter, no assistant would ever live up to what he was capable of.

“I love you,” he said, looking at me seriously. I couldn’t believe he’d just said that to me. How we’d gotten to this point, I’d never fully grasp, but I was glad that we did.

“I love you too,” I said. We were silent for a moment, and I took the opportunity to joke with him. “And I have to say, what an elaborate scheme you pulled. The baked goods, the lunches, the head. All for a promotion. You’re truly a mastermind.”

He laughed, swatting me on the ass. “And this is only Phase One. Mu-ha-ha.”

“What’s Phase Two?”

“Hmm, I’ll let you know when I think of it.”

“Maybe you aren’t the mastermind I thought you were—”

“Shut up!” he said, laughing. “Now let’s get you something good to eat for defending my honor.”

A month later, Parker was officially offered a position as a junior copywriter. He’d taken me shopping for some summer clothing items—both work attire and casual items. The number of X’s on my shirts and shorts was a little shocking, but he did have a knack for picking flattering cuts and patterns. I may have been over 400 pounds, but I’d never looked more stylish.

“Are you ready yet?” Parker called from the living room. It was the last Saturday in June and all of Parker’s old roommates from California were in town for the last weekend of Pride and to celebrate his promotion.

“Yeah,” I called in response. I walked out of our bedroom. “But you’re sure you want me to wear this to meet your friends?”

“Oh, come on,” he said. “It’s just a pair of shorts and a polo. It’s not risqué.”

The shorts were much shorter than I’d buy for myself, but they did fit me very well. They were a good three inches above my knees. He saw them on some Instagram ad and bought me three different pairs. The polo was much more out of my comfort zone. It was cream-colored and a crochet knit. You could see glimpses of my brown skin through the hundreds of small holes that made up the shirt.

“But it seems like you guys want to dance and that’s not really my scene anymore. Can’t you all celebrate tonight and then we all meet up for brunch tomorrow?”

“Okay, what about we all meet up tonight and go out to brunch tomorrow morning?” he countered in rhetorical fashion. “And besides, if you don’t want to burn any calories, you can just have some bar food and a beer.”

“They have those soft pretzels there don’t they?”

“They sure do,” he said, handing me my keys. “Now let’s go please.”

Fortunately I was able to find a good parking spot not too far from the bar. I parked and we walked the block to Dudes. The day had cooled considerably, which I was grateful for. It’d been in the eighties, but it was only about seventy now that the sun had set. They asked to see Parker’s ID and then we made our way inside.

“Parker!” I looked for who had shouted his name. It was another Asian guy who was about Parker’s height.

“Yedam, hey!” Parker looked at me. “Andy, this is Yedam. Yedam, this is my boyfriend Andy.”

“Oh wow,” Yedam said, taking me in. He smiled, like he was trying to stifle a laugh. “Um, it’s nice to meet you.” He locked eyes with Parker, raising his eyebrows theatrically. Was this a good interaction or not? I was having trouble reading the situation. Two other guys made their way to where we stood, both holding drinks. One of the guys handed a glass to Yedam.

“Mike, Sam, this is my boyfriend Andy.” Mike was white and very blond. Sam was black, a little lighter than I was. Overall, they all had the same vibe as Parker. Very put-together, the same height and build.

“This makes sense,” Sam said, gesturing back and forth with his pointer finger between Parker and I.

“Oh yeah, a thousand percent,” Mike added.

I felt like I was missing something, but I was hopeful Parker would fill me in later. The guys all told me I was very handsome and very large. It wasn’t in a sarcastic way, or a flirtatious way even. They presented it like they were simply stating facts. I ordered my pretzels and a round of shots for Parker and his friends. They were all laughing and joking and hanging off of one another. It was almost enough to make me jealous,  but I knew I was what Parker wanted. I didn’t need to worry about his friends.

After another shot Parker pulled me towards the crowded dance floor. “Ready?” he asked, leaning into me.

“I thought I was supposed to drink my beer and eat bar food.” I scanned the whole place; I was the biggest guy in the entire club.

“You’ve got all night to eat bar food. You can dance with me for a few minutes.” He started to move his body and I did too. I wasn’t a bad dancer; it was just something I tended to avoid. He turned slowly, his butt against my crotch.

It seemed like the music got faster and louder, and the entire time I couldn’t take my eyes off of Parker. He was absolutely gorgeous. I leaned down, kissing his neck. He lifted his arms, wrapping them around my neck. I stepped back and felt a foot under me. 

“Shit, man, watch where you’re going! You’re gonna break someone’s foot!” This guy was drunk.

“What was that?” I asked. Six months ago, I’d have left the dance floor completely mortified. But now, why would I ever stop living my life because I took up just a little too much space? The world was a big place, and people would just have to make room for me.

“Nothing, nothing,” he said, adjusting his tone. “Just be more careful. Sorry.”

“That dude was an ass,” Parker said, turning to face me, resting his hands on my waist.

“As crowded as it is, I was bound to step on someone’s foot.” I leaned down so I didn’t have to shout this next part so loudly. “Although it does probably hurt a little more when the one doing the stepping is over 425 pounds.” Parker smiled at me, and I think it was a relief to him that I was being a good sport. 

“Parker! Andy!” It was Sam waving us over to the bar.

He and the rest of Parker’s friends wanted to do another shot and my pretzels were waiting for me. “They were just delivered,” Yedam said. “And we didn’t want them to get cold.”

The rest of the night went pretty well. Parker was always so reserved and in control of himself, so it was nice to see him having fun and letting loose. They were all pretty toasted by midnight, and Mike drunkenly started talking about getting something to eat.

“Why did we drink so much?” he bemoaned, leaning against Yedam as we left the bar. “We should’ve gotten dinner before the bar.”

“You were the one convinced you were getting laid tonight,” Sam stated, stumbling right along next to them.

“Andy knows a place,” Parker said, leaning against me. “Isn’t Sub Daddy’s second location near here?”

“Uh, yeah, it is,” I offered. “I can drive, though you all better not puke.”

“We won’t!” they all sang in unison.

We made it to my Buick unscathed, and I made sure everyone was buckled up. Looking at Parker in the seat next to me and his three drunk besties in the back seat was hilarious to me. It looked like I’d kidnapped a bunch of intoxicated twinks.

“So did Parker used to bake a lot when you all lived together?” I asked, making conversation as we drove.

“Constantly,” Yedam said, sounding comically exasperated. “We had this neighbor.”

“Oh yeah!” Mike interjected. “Big Idris.”

“Your neighbor went by ‘Big Idris?’ Seriously?” I asked.

“Of course not!” Sam exclaimed, cracking up. “I think his real name was Tyler or something?”

“Tyson,” Parker clarified, his entire face and ears covered in a red blush that I didn’t think was entirely from the alcohol.

“Tyson, right,” Sam continued. “We called him Big Idris because he was hot like a young Idris Elba, but much bigger. I mean, not huge.” There was a slight pause, as if he was second guessing his next statement. “Like you’re way bigger than he was.”

“Okay, so he wasn’t fat-fat, got it.”

“So anyway, Big Idris was our neighbor across the hall. When we moved in at the start of our fall semester junior year, Parker baked little treats for everyone on the floor. Big Idris was the only one who came back asking for seconds.” The three of them roared with laughter. I could see where this story was going. Yedam continued the tale.

“It was just like when we were in the dorms. He didn’t have access to a kitchen, but Parker made sure this guy who lived on the floor above us never went without a snack. Insomnia Cookies should probably erect a statue in Parker’s honor. What was his name? Owen?”

“Yes, Owen,” Parker confirmed.

“So Owen, the ex-football player, ended the year having put on the freshman fifteen.”

“Plus fifteen,” Mike added.

“Plus fifteen,” Sam followed. They all cracked up again. Parker was definitely an anomaly to them. An oddity that made for interesting stories. Their sex lives were probably pretty tame compared to what Parker and I were into.

“Owen was nothing like Big Idris though,” Yedam said. “Those 45 pounds were nothing compared to the almost a hundred Big Idris gained living across the hall from us for two years.”

Mike spoke next, saying, “To be fair, it wasn’t all Parker. This guy liked to eat, and he was always ordering DoorDash or UberEats.” 

“But Parker wasn’t innocent,” Sam said. “He baked him a different type of cookie at least three times a week.”

“What happened to Big Idris?” I asked, now extremely curious.

“His girlfriend moved in and Parker moved here to start his new job. She’s definitely helped him change his diet around. You can tell he’s lost some weight, not eating as much take-out. But he for sure doesn’t seem as happy as when Parker was visiting his apartment at two in the morning.”

“That’s a shame,” Parker said. Now that had me cracking up as I pulled into the Sub Daddy parking lot. Of course Parker would be upset to hear that all his hard work was being undone.

We went inside and ordered, and the four of them decided to split two sandwiches, which was funny because I ordered two sandwiches for myself. We sat and ate, the four of them passing tiny bags of chips back and forth to supplement their little sandwiches. After we finished eating I drove them back to their Airbnb. We made plans to meet up for brunch the next afternoon, and I was very interested to hear more about Parker as a sexy coed with feeder tendencies.

Parker was only slightly hungover the next morning. We hung out with his friends again in the afternoon. They mostly shared stories, while I mostly ate boujee brunch food. We said our goodbyes and they made plans to get together again soon. They all still lived in the old apartment, at least until their lease ended in the fall. Overall, the weekend had been a success, and I was sure Parker was excited to start his new position come Tuesday.

Monday he’d be training his replacement.

“So make sure his lunch is ordered at eleven so that he’s able to eat by noon,” Parker stated matter-of-factly. 

He had been with my new assistant all morning. She was a nice girl, and I could tell she was already a little overwhelmed by all the things Parker expected her to remember. I think Parker was sad to be shifting to a new position, even though he was really excited to be doing what he dreamed of. 

He would be on an entirely different side of the office. It was probably for the best that we had a bit of space from each other. We didn’t want to become one of those couples that couldn’t function without the other.

But still, he knew me better than anyone. I didn’t have to think about my next move because he’d already anticipate it. 

“Parker, can I see you in my office for a moment?” I asked.

“Yes, of course,” he said before turning his attention to my new assistant. “Nicolette, we can go over the best times to schedule Mr. Reynolds for a meeting after you get back from your break.” She couldn’t grab her purse fast enough. She was probably going to be updating her LinkedIn and putting in applications on Indeed.

“You need to go a bit easier on her,” I said once we were behind closed doors. “Remember that's Hathaway’s great-niece.”

“I didn’t have anyone to show me the ropes when I started,” he said. “I just want to make sure she knows what to do so things go smoothly for you.”

“I’ll be okay, babe.”

“Fine. I’ll dial it back.”

“So how about a quickie for old time’s sake?” He laughed, but he immediately loosened his tie.

I ended up seated behind my desk with my pants around my ankles. He was completely nude, claiming he didn’t want to chance getting a stain on his clothes. He kneeled in front of me and reached into my desk drawer. He grabbed a tiny bottle of lube. He squirted a moderate amount in his palm before wrapping his hand around my erection. He pumped my dick slowly, covering it with the lube. 

I watched him stand with his back to me. I got to my feet, grabbing the bottle of lube from him and covering his hole with some of it, massaging it with my fingers. Being between his fat cheeks was always a pleasure. It was the only fatty part about him, and I loved grabbing his ass roughly in these moments. I bent my knees before angling my dick so there’d be a smooth entry and pushed my penis into him slowly. I leaned my body on top of him, my gut resting on his back as I rocked my hips back and forth. I felt his body relaxing as I found a good rhythm. I continued to thrust my hips and he did his best to stifle his moans.

“I’m your biggest success story,” I said breathily, pushing a bit more forcefully. “I just know your friends are going to be shocked the next time they see me.”

“Uh—” he whimpered, his knees buckling slightly.

“Say it,” I said. “Say that you’re gonna make me bigger.”

“I–I’m gonna make you bigger.” He tugged at his dick desperately. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

“500 isn’t that far off,” I said, not entirely believing it myself. Would he want me to get that big? He did tell me that I was the biggest person he’d ever been with. Could he handle that? Could I?

“Oh fuck!” he panted, doing his best to catch his cum in his hand. I gave a few final pushes before filling him with my cum. I pulled myself from inside of him and we both got cleaned up. He got dressed, looking positively pristine, like nothing lewd had just taken place in my office. 

That’s when he turned to me and said, “I hope you’re ready for lunch.”

He had a look in his eye that let me know our sex talk wasn’t just talk. Parker had goals, and I liked a man with motivation.

I sure knew how to hire ‘em.

The End!