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tparker48 · 1 year ago

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Request for Winnylose

Keven sat along the coffee table as he read the latest update to the company's new hiring policy. The higher ups were hosting a free apartment for employees to take up to make transportation less of a problem for their upstanding employees. It was a dream come true at first glance, at least that's what Keven thought when he set foot in the door. He traveled through the living room and observed the environment, wooled carpet brushing between his sandals before traversing the wooden floor of the dining room. It traversed through the hallways before transition to carpets for the closet and laundry room. The customs were pretty good to say the least. But he only rubbed for the real deal breaker, the bedrooms.

Two more doors rested at the end of the hall, darkness filling the bottom of them. What could be inside, a suite? A luxurious room? He pranced toward the left of him, opening it as if he won a grand prize. It was no bigger than a cubicle, a king sized bed blocking half the room.

"Okay, it's little, but I'm sure it'll manage." He said, rubbing his hands together. "Now what kind of bedroom do we have behind the door number too?" He wiggled his fingers, wrapping around the handle before pulling the door toward him.

A brick wall stood before, stacked to the very top as a breeze blew from its cracks.

Keven blinked at the sight. "A..bricked wall? But that can't be right.."

"Ay pops!" A voice came from the front door, a pair of legs carrying boxes. "Mind helping me out with all this stuff. I can barely navigate it."

"Oh, Eis. You didn't really have to-"

"This is a pretty big space. Roomy, where’s the bedrooms, I gotta freshen up for my hot date coming over."

He looked at the door to the brick room, easing it closed with his heel. "Oh, there's no need to rush, we can uh...look at it in a second."

"Look at it in the second, i don't have seconds, pops." He dropped the box at the entrance to the hallway, stretching his back. "Come on, I wanna see where I'm gonna put the candles."

Eis moved through the hallway, looking through the opened door. "Wooah, check it out, a whole king mattress. Now that's the stuff. Is this my room?"

"That's my room.."

"Well, where's mine? Is it in the one you're in? Let me see?" He took hold of the handle, pulling it as he peeked over the corner. But his father's heel stopped it.

"I don't think you'll like it..it's"

"Oo! Oo! Is it a studio? A dojo bedroom?"

"It's.." He took a break opening it to reveal the structure inside. "A bricked wall."

Eis's eyes widened, sinking to his knees. "A brick..wall? Are you kidding?!"

"N-now son, I know things may be not up to par, but we can use my bedroom to rest."

"My date comes tonight! There is nothing sexy about sharing a room with your dad!"

"Well.. I don't know what to do about that."

"Fix it!" Eis demanded, pointing a finger to the door. "Tell your boss that we are not taking this apartment!"

"Son, I can't just-"

"I refuse to live in a house with one bedroom!" He looked out the window, sun dipping past the other building. "I'm running out of time. I don't care what kind of room it is, but it better be something else than this!"

He stormed into the bathroom, leaving his father in the hallway as silence filled the room. He had a point, living in the same bed may be a bit awkward, laying in the same bedroom as your son, his colleagues would flip if they had a visit from the higher ups. With a heavy sigh, he flipped out his phone to talk to the department managers, stepping outside to make the call.

Pacing around the grass, he looked to the window of his apartment, his son fiery gaze staring back at him. "Come on..pick up."

As their holding music blared in his ear, it came to a stop before a voice spoke. "Hello?"

"Hey, this is Keven, one of the movers you assigned?"

"Aah Keven, what can I do you for?"

"Well we got a look at the place and it seems really nice, thank you by the way, but the bedrooms seemed a bit..bricked. I was hoping we could get another with a two bedroom?"

Keven keven," the voice flaunted "you know how hard it to find rooms accommodate to your likings. Many would be considered lucky to be in a position you're in."

"Yes sir, I know. But I have to have a room for my son, it wouldn't be fair to him."

"Hmm..tell you what, we've been working on a new project to make things more..spacious. Bring your son down, and we'll see what we can do."

"Yes sir! Thank you, sir!"

*********************************************

The two of them went into work to discuss terms for the upcoming arrangement, meeting in the lounge as he and Eis waited by the waiting desk. He glanced at his son, who lay slouched along his chair, his eyes glued to his smart phone as he typed a message. the boss will figure something out, everything will be just fine, at least he hoped so.

"Mr. Keven," the secretary at the desk said, the panel next to her opening to a metal room. "Mr. Allen will see you now."

He got up from his chair, tapping at his son's shoulder as the two of them entered through the doors. The space was scientific compared to his regular location, a glass window giving a view to the laboratories below. scientists messed with chemicals in their own cubicles, smoke resonated from those further in the room than others.

"What exactly are we doing here dad? Is this gonna take long, cause I got an hour before she arrives."

"For the last time, son, I don't know. We'll just have to see."

they walked through the hallway to a sliding door, air hissing from its gaps as it parted. it opened to another space, much larger than the hallway they came through. Scientists were everywhere, stationed by a machine that hung from the ceiling like a chandler. They walked through the middle of them as orbs floated around, leading to a man with a metal parrot along his shoulder. He turned around, a smile spreading across his face.

"Ah, there's my favorite worker." He extended a hand to Keven.

" A pleasure to be here sir, thank you for filling us in on such short notice."

"None at all, we were looking to see what things we could do. And who is this young man?"

Eis raised his gaze toward them, scoffing as he went back to his phone. "He is my son, he's..not very happy at the moment." Keven said. "I would love to talk a bit more with you, but we are short time. N-not to rush you or-"

"Of course, of course. then we must not delay .Come, I'll show you our project." he guided them through the room, signing a paper given to him by the researchers. "This is our dimension room, we're working on transporting hosts into a pocket inside another.

"You mean, like a pocket dimension?"

"Why yes, or something like that. Here we desire the fondest hospitality of our gracious employees. specifically to those with big families. running out of room? pocket dimension! wanna get away from the folks? pocket dimension!" he stopped at a chair below the machine, pressing at its controls as energy flowed through its wires. The machine released a deep hum, the red glowing wires following its way into its sockets.

"How does it work?"

"I'd be happy to show you, but first we have to get the waivers out the way. ladies.." he waved his hand as they took to Keven and his son's side, handing them paperwork along with a pen. The father and son looks at each other, jotting down their own information.

"Please sign here..and..here...thank you" one of the researchers said, the other taking the documents. They escorted Keven to the chair, strapping him in.

"Good, now that those are out the way. We can get started." Mr. Allen pressed at the machine, a panel opening from the nozzle of the machine to the ground level. "Nurses.." He signaled them with a hand, two taking to Keven side. One removed his. Belt buckle from his waist, the other taking to the zipper.

"H-hey! Don't touch-Ow! Easy!"

"They're really going to town." Eis snickered at his father's struggles, holding up his phone to record.

They yanked his pant's off, placing them along a tray as they slipped his underwear off. Rubber gloves touched at his balls, a set of hands sending a chill down his spine as it prodded at his cockhead. "I would very much not want my goods touched!"

"They're simply doing their job, Mr. keven." Allen said. "Is everything ready?"

"Yes sir, the contact area is ready for zapping."

"Good, then we shall proceed." He moved over to a console, pressing a butt as the nozzle loomed closer.

"Zapping?! You're gonna to zap me?!" He twisted at his wrists, paddling his feet to the nozzle slinking between his legs, the nurses restraining them.

"There's no room for regrets, the process is almost finished." Mr. Allen said.

Bolts zigzagged around the metal bulb of the machine, its center glowing with the red fuel from the wires. Its electric hum grew louder, the nurses pulling his legs wider apart. This is it, he's gonna die. Gazing at the nozzles glow, his life flashed before his eyes as it pumped toward his legs.

He squealed, shutting his eyes. "Goodbye world! Goodbye!" He shouted, awaiting for the sharp sting to embrace him. The cool air was all that met his body, the rubbery gloves lifting from his cock. He peeked an eye to the machine, the bulbs dimming before it lifted back to its core.

"The process is complete, congratulations, Mr. Keven. How do you feel?

He patted himself down, the tingling sensation turning into a faint ripple. "I..actually feel fine. Huh, that wasn't so bad."

"Good good, then let us show you the results. Young man, might I borrow you for a moment." He said, the nurses taking to his side.

They placed goggles on him, throwing a plastic raincoat before escorting him to the chair. Guiding him in front of him, he winced as he turned away. "Ugh, do I have to stand this close, All his junk is hanging out."

"Afraid so, is everything prepared nurses?"

They nodded. "Yes, all is ready."

"Good, throw him in."

The son blinked at the response, the nurses taking to his arm. He yanked his arms away from them, their hold as firm as glue as they brought him an inch away from Keven. Cocking him backwards, they chucked him forward, both father and son shielding their eyes.

There was a bright flash, blinding Keven as he squinted toward the sky. Unbeknownst of where his son landed. When the light dimmed, he faced forward to see only the nurses and Mr. Allen. However, His son was nowhere in sight. "Son? Where'd my son go?"

"Where the hell am I?!" His voice answered, softer than what it was before. Keven looked to between his legs for source, his gaze landing along his cock. At his balls, the left testicle jiggled, tugging outward as limbs padded at its surface like dough. "It's so sticky in here! Ugh, and it reeks."

Keven's face grew pale, his sight locked at the moving testicle. His son was in there? But that's impossible, it couldn't be. A pen clicked in front of him, Mr. Allen jotting at a clipboard.

"Marvelous, it truly works."

"What did you do to my son?!"

"Gave him a new room of course. You did say you needed a new structure, this way it uses less resources, and more space."

"I can't stay in here!" His son shouted, an imprint of his face gumming at the elastic walls. "I have a date waiting for me!"

"Don't worry, you'll be able to travel in and out of your room with ease. All it takes is a little unlocking" he motioned his hand with a few jerks. His speaker soon went off, placing it to his ear. "Ah, duty calls I'm afraid. Enjoy your new room young man, and you too Mr. Keven."

"Wait Mr. Allen I.." He paused as his boss' backside turned toward him, slumping his seat. "Good talk."

His testicle bounced, sagging over the chair. "Yo pops! What are you waiting for? You heard him, rub me out!"

"I can't do that at work, I'll be fined."

"The hell you can't, I'm not staying in here for another second. All this seed is already giving me a headache."

He grabbed his pants and placed them on the floor, putting his underwear to his waist and cupping his balls, it still felt weird knowing that he was in there. "I will try to get you out back home."

"Dad I swear if you-" he stashed his balls into his underwear, hoisting his pants to his legs as they tucked at his backside. He fidgeted as his testicles shook in place, his son swearing everything under the sun. He got stairs from the staff around, his anxiety filling as he got up from the chair.

He didn't bother to zip up, trotting out the sliding doors and out into the parking lot

*********************************************************************************************

That following evening, Keven waddled back to his apartment, wobbling up the metal staircase to his household along the corner. The squirming in his balls made his hands jitter, fumbling at the handle as he stepped inside. He sped to his bedroom, drawing them to his knees.

His balls shook like maracas, the left testicle thrashing about as he reached for a towel. "Keep still, I'm getting you out already!"

"Well hurry up! She'll be here any minute!"

a knock came on the door, the two of them freezing in place.

"Shit! She's here!" Keven's testicle swung. "I can't let her see me like this! Stall her!”

"Stall her?"

"She won’t talk to a nutsack, you owe me this much, pops"

He eyed his son, a deep sigh escaping from him. "Fine."

He moved out to the main hall, running water hitting the walls echoing from the bathroom door. It's been too long since he's talked a big game. He wondered if he still had the charm. The knocks grew more aggressive, the welcome home sign nearly knocking off its hinges. He opened the door to a woman standing outside, a fur coat wrapped around her shoulder.

"About time, I was thinking I was gonna have to call the paramedics to get this door open." she padded her hat, swishing her scarf fur to the side. “And who are you?”

"Hello there, I'm Keven and-"

"Sherlet la mein. If you would be so kind as to move your tubbied ass so I can get out of these heels."

She sounds delightful. "Oh..of course. Please." He stepped to the side as she marched inside, her feathered hat wisping at his nose. "Eis is still getting ready, please, take a seat."

she moved along the room in a slow stride, a finger at her chin as she eyed the furniture. "What tacky furniture, if it weren't such a high facility I’d mistake this for a barn."

He tugged at his tie, clearing his throat. "Could I uh..get you a drink? It's not everyday you see a fine lady such as-"

"Spare me the flatters, gramps, less you can fill this body with something meaty, I'll pass." she said. “This better not be a waste of my time, if Eis isn’t here in the next 30 seconds, I’m leaving.

A ruffling sensation lingered inside his pants, getting more vigorous as seconds went by. “Er..Excuse me for a moment, I’ll go fetch him for you..” he scampered into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. His fingers fumbled along the bedroom counter, grabbing a plastic cup and a towel as he raced into the bathroom. He placed them onto the floor, his palm leveling his cock’s length at the cup as its drizzle spilled into its opening.

"That's it, easy does it.." He shook his cock to pour more of his seed.

"This is taking too long, I'll do it myself."

"Hold on, I gotta ensure the mess doesn't get on the floor." a tiny lump came from the bouncing testicle, guiding its way through the base of the shaft as it traveled up his length. He grabbed the cup from the floor, holding its cock to catch the flowing seed. "Ok, that should catch it all."

He held onto his shaft as the lump entered the head. With a clench, it was expunged into the cup, its plastic cracked as more flowed. It exploded in his hands, a wave of seed splashing the entire bathroom with its spunk, his spawning in the center as he slid to the far wall. Keven looked at the busted cup near the sink in disbelief, and then back to his son.

"That was bigger than I expected.."

"Ugh, look at me, I look like a goo monster. Would it kill you to empty yourself in there?"

"I'm a busy man, you can't imagine how much seed I blow with the-"

"D-d-dah, I don't want to hear that crap. I gotta get ready, I don't know how much time I-"

"What the hell is taking so long?!"

Eis jumped to his feet, grabbing the seed covered towel to wipe himself off, he threw off his damp clothes, stripping to his underwear as he opened the door. He ushered his father to the front, sending signals as he crashed onto the bed. With a thumbs up, Keven opened the door to Sherlet waiting outside.

“Mrs. Sherlet, allow me to present you with your guest of honor.” he pulled the door wider, exposing more of the room.

He struck a pose along the bed, a rose caught between his teeth. “Good evening my queen, sorry to keep you ‘yearning’ for me for so long.”

She huffed, slipping her scar from her shoulders. “Finally, I was starting to think you got feet. Let’s hope that thing between your legs was worth the wait.” she kicked her to the corner of the door, her dress unraveling to reveal her smooth shoulder.

“I’ll just be waiting out here, you two have-” one of her legs moved behind the back of the door, kicking it shut as its boom echoed through the hall. “Fun...”

**********************************************

The night had changed in the sky, the moon casting over the tree in the backyard as shadows decorated the apartment. Keven pushed at his glasses, reading the daily newspaper. But every so often, he looked toward the bedroom, bickering lingering behind the closed door before silence filled the void. They've been in there for a good hour, at least from what he could count.

He flipped the page, tracing a finger to the daily weather expected for next week. The bedroom door jiggled, drawing his attention as it swung open.

"Filthy pig!" Shelet cursed beneath her breath, he dress in hand as she passed through the hallway. Keven met her gaze, lifting his newspaper higher.

Eis stormed out from the bedroom door, wearing nothing but a towel as it sagged off his thigh. "No wait, come back! I swear it's only warming up. Just give me time to be ready."

"For what, an inch? Sorry sweety, but the only thing that’s touchin' this puss is a salami, not a wheeny dog." She picked up her shoes from the floor, leaving the wallowing son standing in the hallway.

Eis crumbled in on himself, his head sunk in defeat. "Damn it.."

That went well, Keven thought, closing the newspaper. He took to his feet and to Eis' side, caressing at his shoulder. "Don't worry about that one, I'm sure you get one-"

Not now, pops.." He muttered, a hand gliding to his father's pants. He unzipped them, drawing out his bulky cock beneath, pointing the tip toward him. When the glow from its slit illuminated, he plunged his nose inside, a signal for the rest of his body as he vanished between its lips, and into the left testicle that drooped lower than the other.

That one must've hurt bad, Keven couldn’t help to think. Cupping at his balls, he opened his mouth to talk, but paused. He's in his feels right now, he shouldn't pry to make things worse. Tucking his balls back in his underwear, he carried on as he made dinner for the night.

An hour passed since his date visited, and dinner was already set. Keven decided on ways to cheer his son up, whipping up his special queso with extra cheddar. It always cheered him up, even when he was struggling in college. But no matter how much he coaxed him to have a taste of its goodness, Eis didn't budge, his balls as still as a rock as they swayed around. Putting his player in the fridge, He went to the shower, smearing his gunk off the glass as prepared for sleep. Dosing his hair beneath the warm running water, a soft whimper met his ears as he looked at his balls. It was there that he saw the testicle move, the whimpers more audible.

Keven's heart ached at the sight, lending a hand beneath his scrotum. "Son?.."

"Not now, I said.. Im fine." Eis sniveled.

"Your not fine, I can hear you in there"

Silence filled between them, Keven looking at the testicle. A soft impress touched the fleshy wall. "I thought this was the one, the one I was going to date."

"Eis, there's plenty of women out there that would love to date you. It may seem like this one nailed a coffin, but there's many out there in the sea."

"You..you think so?"

"I know so. And if there's one thing you;re old man knows, Is that you'll find one. You're dashing, courageous.."

"And have a big schlong?"

Keven merely chuckled, rolling his eyes softly. "Yes, even that. Don't let one lady get the best of you." He said. The running water filled the silence in the shower, Keven’s gaze never leaving his balls. The occupied testicle started to jiggle, fingers nipping at the valve.

he moved his legs apart, pointing his cock into the water's trajectory. The small lump lifted from his testicle and into the base of his shaft, seed dripping from the slit once more as it clogged into the head. Pushed out, it grew in size as Eis stood from the milky pile, seed washing from his shoulders as it drained into the sink.

He looked toward his father, who had a soft smile on his face, tackling him as he hugged at his chest.

"Love you too." Keven said, caressing the top of his head. "Though I'd like to have a hug after I've showered."

**********************************************

Throughout the following week, Eis and his father worked on making the hospitality of the bedroom work. Having one was enough to justify the resting conditions, but Eis was still antsy on sharing the same bed. To assure a better time, he decided to keep his room inside his father’s balls, ordering inflatable furniture for him to take inside and decorate. The company only mentioned he'd be able to fit his son inside himself, but who would think that he'd be able to fit so much more.

It took some time to adjust after the last hook up he had, but he was already back to springing up another gal. Just like his old man did when he was younger, his younger self would fist bump him if he'd get the chance. But watching him prosper was good enough. He hooked up with another girl, but this time he wanted to try something new. Something he never thought of doing himself. He-

"More!" A shout came from down below, Keven resting his pen as he looked toward his crotch. His sack moved like an egg about to hatch, jumping an inch away from his testicle before the loose skin pulled it back. "More, push it in more."

"You want in you huh?" Eis' voice followed," I can do so much more with this length."

The testicled rolled between his thighs, faint taps rocking from side of the testicle to the other. Keven could only laugh, admiring the two's spiteful spirits. Young love, you never know where it might strike, he thought himself. He pulled out his newspaper, flipping to the last page he left off. He wondered how long they'd keep it up, an hour, maybe two? He wasn't quite sure. But one thing he did know was this one thing.

His son's happier now that he found them, and so long as he likes that, his balls can kick and sway all they like.

#cock vore #size difference #portal #same size

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canniballinguist-2 · 17 days ago

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Hotel Polyphemus

Summary: Harriet tailed him to make sure he wasn't up to anything suspicious. What she found was so much weirder than she ever could've expected.

Tags: v0re, offscreen m/m, digestion, fat pred, pred who isn't human but is human-ish, pred/observer but it's mostly platonic, gay male pred and his bi female observer who is a lil bit in love with him, vague historical fantasy setting, belly rubs

Harriet had never been asked to tail anyone before, but as it turned out, she was good for it. It helped that Vervain was, tall as he was, easy to track at a distance. She could hang back several blocks, unrecognisable in her meticulously constructed chimney sweep disguise, and never lose sight of her compatriot's head rising out of the crowd.

Yes, he gave her and Keiran the number of the hotel he would be staying at before he left, but there was no guarantee that it was actually where he'd be. It was, supposedly, the location of a yearly convention he attended, where he and the rest of the Gourmet Society discussed egg prices or soup recipes or whatever people who worked in the restaurant business talked about. According to Keiran, he'd taken this annual weekend away for as long as the two of them had lived together, and Keiran had never given it a second thought until recently. In hindsight, it was almost laughably obvious what was going on. Vervain must have been using the Society as a cover story, so he could slip away from Keiran and go to some secluded place to trade information with fellow Otherworld spies. At least, that's what Keiran assumed. And of course, he didn't want to tail Vervain himself. So, like every unpleasant task that came up for Sharma, Hardcastle and Co, it fell to Harriet.

She didn't like the idea of having to stalk her friend, even if he was a spy. But still, it was better than having to do laundry.

Harriet lost sight of him for a while, when a cart drove by and blocked the side of the street he was on for a moment. It took her a second to find him again. When she did, he was outside a bakery, talking to a man in his mid-twenties wearing a vintage paisley waistcoat that even at a distance made Harriet intensely jealous. The conversation looked to be going well, and Harriet rationalised that this man and Vervain might have been friends. If the Gourmet Society convention was in fact real, they were probably going to be attending it together. After a handshake, Vervain was on the move again, and Harriet was off after him.

From inside her coat pocket she pulled out her notebook, where she turned to a fresh page and wrote MAN WITH NICE VEST. SUSPICIOUS?

Vervain actually did end up going to the address he'd given her the number for- the Hotel Polyphemus. This came as a surprise given the fact that Harriet had expected him to turn off at some point and go somewhere else. But even though he'd been honest about that detail, Harriet still got the distinct feeling he was lying about something else. This was for the simple fact that the hotel wasn't exactly nice- or at least, it wasn't nice anymore. The facade was a little dated, the glass on the windows was foggy, and the paint around the doors was starting to chip. Not exactly the kind of place she would pick, personally, if she was planning a conference for a union of cooks and restaurant staff. She sped up, then hastily doubled back when the crowds started to thin out and she worried there would be too much chance of Vervain recognising her. From an alley across the street, she watched him enter the hotel lobby, then she left. She pulled her notebook out again and made another note- HOTEL IS UGLY.

She underlined the words just for good measure.

Once she put her pencil and notebook away, she turned and started to walk across the street towards the hotel Vervain had just vanished into. She was going to go in there and- what, exactly? Confront him? He was nearly three times her size, the only way she could subdue him would be with a gun, and that would create a whole new mess of problems. Interview the concierge? That wouldn't work- there was a good chance he didn't know anything. Or, knowing Harriet's luck, she'd go in there and see he had on tinted sunglasses and a name-tag that said something like Ammonia Cornbeetle, but she wouldn't realise that meant he was in on it until it was too late. Frustrated, Harriet slapped both hands against the sides of her face, trying to will herself to come up with a smarter idea. She took a deep breath, then pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Maybe before she did anything else she ought to send Keiran a telegram, just in case things went pear-shaped.

Telegram. The word stuck in her mind. She repeated it to herself a couple of times, twirling the smoldering cigarette in her fingers. She took a drag, and thought.

Telegram. People send Telegrams to hotels. When they send Telegrams to hotels, the concierge directs them to wherever they need to go.

She looked up, to see a washing line hung sloppily between the two buildings on either side of her. As if a gift from God himself, there was a set of sheets hanging on them, which were the same exact shade of blue as the official British postal service uniform.

Harriet reached for the scissors attached to her chatelaine, and steeled herself for the task of scaling a fire escape.

***

A few scrapes and bruises and a whole lot of hand-sewing later, Harriet arrived at the front desk of the Hotel Polyphemus, trying her best to emulate the behaviour of an average London telegram boy. Arguably, she didn't need to try too hard, because the concierge had his radio on, tuned to the station that was playing the horses, and he seemed completely engrossed in his betting slip. Still, Harriet never liked to do things by half. As she approached the front desk to ring the bell, she tilted her hat slightly, rolled her shoulders and cleared her throat like someone who habitually chewed tobacco.

“I gotta telegram for a mister, uh,” She squinted at the empty envelope in her hand like she'd never encountered this name before. “Vervain Hardcastle?”

The concierge barely glanced at the guest book before he nodded and waved her through.

“314,” he said, distantly.

“Most obligin' of ya,” she replied.

As Harriet headed towards the elevator, the voice on the radio rattled off a bunch of names and numbers in an increasingly urgent tone. She heard the concierge scream with frustration as she rounded the corner.

She got to the door of 314 and found the door was still open. Maybe he wasn't here, she reasoned. Maybe the maid was cleaning it. But as she went to turn the knob, she noticed a noise coming from inside. It was a kind of wet, meaty gagging sound that made Harriet's heart speed up and her face burn with shame. She kept her hand on the door knob for just a bit, and wondered if she'd been given the wrong room number. No, he'd definitely said 314.

A pit formed in her throat. Compared to the possibility that he was selling state secrets to foreign powers, it felt almost more horrible, more impossible to imagine that Vervain had just been sleeping around behind Keiran's back. Keiran at least suspected the spy stuff. He was prepared to have that theory confirmed. Harriet didn't want to know what he'd do if she came back to him with the news that she'd found his partner of nearly ten years guzzling some stranger's cock in an ugly hotel room in Soho.

“No,” she muttered to herself. “You could be totally misinterpreting this. Maybe he's just... choking on a cherry pit, or something.”

That calmed her nerves for about a second before she realised that Vervain choking and dying would also be very, very bad.

She had to go in. She had to know for sure.

Harriet slapped herself on the face again and straightened her back. She still had the disguise on, so maybe if she was in and out quick enough, he wouldn't recognise her.

She pushed the door open.

It took Harriet's brain a very long time to process what was happening in front of her. She could understand all of the elements separately, but trying to put them together felt like hitting a brick wall. As far as she could tell, there was Vervain (expected) and he was naked from the waist up (partially expected), and he was alone (somewhat odd), except for the fact that there was a pair of legs (very odd) coming out of his mouth (extremely odd, not expected in the slightest).

Harriet stood, dumbstruck, in the doorway, unable to move while the gears of her mind were still snagging on the frayed threads of the input being fed into it. She tried to think of a logical explanation- maybe this was an illusion? Maybe this wasn't the real Vervain? Or maybe Harriet's last fag had just been drugged, somehow. She'd believe anything at this point. Anything that would avoid her having to accept that Vervain Hardcastle, her friend, was capable of doing such a thing.

She was finally brought back to reality only when Vervain noticed she was there. The sight of her startled him just as the last of whatever he was eating had slipped down his throat and he doubled over, choking and gasping for air. Part of Harriet was hoping he'd throw up on the floor, and in doing so reveal that what he'd eaten was just some kind of knobbly Otherworld fruit that she'd never seen before. Vervain swallowed a couple more times, then took a big gulp of air while he regained his composure.

“Listen, I don't know how you got in,” he said, out of breath, “but next time you think about-”

He stopped and narrowed his eyes at her.

“Hattie?”

Harriet had no idea what to say in response.

“T-telegram,” she stammered, after an agonising pause.

Vervain took another deep breath, placing a hand on his stomach to steady himself.

“Did Keiran tell you to follow me?”

Harriet nodded.

“Harriet, darling,” he said carefully. “I need you to stay calm for me, can you do that?”

Harriet's eyes went from Vervain's face down to his stomach, still trying in vain to connect the dots in a way that didn't make her feel insane.

“Should I close the door?” she finally asked, gesturing behind her.

“Yes,” Vervain said. “I would appreciate that.”

Harriet went to make sure the door was closed all the way, then did the latch for safety's sake. She stood and looked at the back of the door for a moment, thinking that maybe she'd turn around and the room would be empty.

She heard the loud creak of the bed springs, followed by a loud sigh as Vervain sat down and made himself comfortable. No such luck – he was still there. When she turned back to him he was lying on his side, languid and engorged like a Burmese python in a glass terrarium at the zoo. And he was still naked aside from his shorts and his socks. In the year and a half they'd lived together, Harriet had never seen Vervain shirtless. Hell, she'd never even seen his bare legs before. She felt the blood rush to her face again and felt the need to look away.

“Isn't this the way,” she thought. “The first time I get to be alone in a room with a naked man and he's gay, he's spoken for, and on top of all that, he's also a-” Not a cannibal, no. Vervain wasn't a human, so it wouldn't be cannibalism, technically.

Harriet cleared her throat.

“I thought we all agreed we were going to be honest with each other,” she said.

“Yes, we did.” Vervain covered his mouth to stifle a burp. “But I reserve the right to still exercise some discretion about some things.”

“Like what?” Harriet asked.

“Like this,” he responded.

Harriet took an uneasy step closer to the side of the bed, where she took the time to really, properly appreciate what this actually was.

Vervain was, even on an average day, the fattest person Harriet had ever been personally acquainted with. When she'd measured him to make the pattern for his Carnival costume, she'd found out that his waist circumference was almost the same as her height. But now, she didn't think she'd be able to even get a measuring tape all the way around him. His normally soft stomach was round and firm, with a few irregular bulges visible at the top even through his impressive layer of fat. If he'd sat up, his belly probably would've covered his entire lap. It groaned and bubbled audibly, processing its contents, and Vervain rubbed it idly with one hand.

“I don't want you to think any less of me after this,” he said, his voice quiet. He was avoiding eye contact too. “This is just something I need to do every once in a while.”

“So,” Harriet ventured, choosing her words carefully. “Is this, like, a fae thing? Or is it just you?”

Vervain shrugged.

“Probably one or the other,” he said. “But rest assured I don't take any pleasure in it.” He paused. “I mean, I only take some pleasure in it.”

Harriet's eyes moved around the room. She noticed Vervain's shirt, his undershirt, and the three pieces of his suit folded neatly on the chaise, next to another, smaller pair of trousers, shirt, and a vintage paisley waistcoat.

Harriet's stomach dropped. The man Vervain had met outside the bakery.

She pointed to the waistcoat, then back to Vervain.

“You ate him naked?” Somehow she sounded more scandalised by the second part than the first.

“Yes, obviously,” Vervain said. “I'm not going to eat someone's clothes, Harriet, I'm not mad.”

Vervain's stomach groaned again and he belched into the side of his hand.

“Oh, excuse me.”

“You're excused,” Harriet replied.

She fidgeted with her chatelaine, looking down at the ground.

As someone who hadn't been born with any natural social graces, she'd put a lot of effort over the course of her life into learning the correct responses to different situations. She knew what to say to customers, to casual acquaintances, what to say to someone who just told you their husband died, when it was appropriate to ask specific personal questions and when it was better to just make an anodyne comment about the weather. Maintaining good etiquette was important to her. Because of that, few things made her feel more frustrated than when God decided to test her by throwing her for a loop and presenting her with some batshit social situation that nobody in human history had ever been put in before. What was she supposed to do with this? Scream and run? Kill him while he was still bloated and indisposed? He seemed regretful, so maybe she should just be supportive. Maybe it was a medical thing, like this was the fae version of how people in the past used to treat porphyria by drinking blood. But even if that were true, Vervain was still a liar, and if he could lie about this and he could lie about being a spy, he could lie about a million other things.

As if he could read her mind, he looked at her, deeply sincere, and said-

“I'm still myself. You know that right? I'm the same Vervain I've always been.”

Harriet furrowed her brows.

“Why haven't you-”

“Told Keiran?” Vervain finished for her. He scoffed. “Because he'd be completely disgusted with me, obviously. He's a kinky bastard, but he's not that kinky. I mean- he was raised vegetarian, for god’s sake! I simply don't think our relationship could survive. That's why I've got a system. Once a year, I tell Keiran I have a convention to go to. I come here, invite someone up to the room...then after a couple of days, once everything's digested, I return to my life as normal.”

He sighed, frowning.

“Don't stand around like that, you look uncomfortable.”

“I am uncomfortable,” Harriet said.

Vervain wriggled his body further from the edge of the bed and closer to the wall.

“There,” he exhaled. “There should be some room, hopefully.”

Harriet deliberated for a bit about where to sit. Closer to his feet, maybe. Further away from his mouth.

She took a seat at the edge of the bed and realised that here, she could feel the heat radiating off of Vervain's belly.

“What do people taste like?”

Vervain furrowed his brow, thinking.

“Hard to say...” He drummed his fingers on the side of his gut. “Fatty, savoury, but subtle. Kind of like a big mortadella sausage.”

Harriet nodded.

“And, um...” She swallowed. “Does it, um....Does it feel good? Having someone in there like that?”

Vervain fondly traced around a bulge that might have once been a knee, or maybe an elbow.

“It always hurts a little at first,” he sighed, “But once they’ve settled in...oh, it's heavenly.”

Harriet's heart rate was rising again.

“Am I in danger?” She finally asked.

“No,” he said, simply. “I'm still only interested in men, both sexually and-”

“Culinarily?” Harriet offered, mostly as a joke.

“I was going to say 'gastronomically', actually,” Vervain smirked. “There's not really any culinary skill involved. Either way, you're perfectly safe.” Then, sensing he might have offended her- “Not that you don't make a delectable-looking man when you want to be one, darling.”

“What about Keiran?”

“Oh, I've thought about it,” he chuckled. “When he makes me angry, mostly...but no. I could never.”

Vervain's stomach let out a loud, drawn-out gurgle, and a couple of the bulges on the upper curve shifted.

“Oh, be quiet,” he scolded, slapping his gut on the spot that had just moved.

Harriet's nose wrinkled.

“Is he still alive?”

Vervain pressed into his belly again as if to check.

“It doesn't bear thinking about.”

Harriet raised a hand, fingers curling uncertainly, and bit her lip. She knew she should be disgusted, or at least scared, but she wasn't. She was curious, more than anything, and underneath it all she even felt a little flutter of excitement. There was a thrill to sharing a secret, to getting to see a part of your friend's life that not even their lovers ever got to see. Even if it was something gruesome.

“Is it okay if I...” She gestured vaguely, unwilling to finish the sentence. If she let him finish for her, she'd feel like less of a pervert for asking.

“A votre guise,” Vervain gestured for her to go ahead. “A nice massage is just what I need right now, I think.”

With some effort, he rolled onto his back, causing his gut to groan and jostle. He shifted a little more to get comfy, folding his arms behind his head.

“Alright...”

Gingerly, she placed her hand on Vervain, running her fingers over the expanse of his belly, getting used to the texture of his skin under her hand. She rubbed circles over the parts that were tight and stretched out, and pressed into the parts that felt softer until she felt some resistance underneath. Once she was feeling brave enough she even tried pressing down on the bulges formed by the limbs of Vervain's...Victim? Lunch? What would be the most polite term for it?

All the while she studied Vervain's reactions, making sure she wasn't doing anything that hurt. He wasn't sleeping, but he had his eyes closed, with a contented smile on his face, like someone having an especially pleasant dream. Emboldened, Harriet rubbed at a tight spot just under his ribs, then pressed her fingers in. The movement must've loosened up an air bubble, because she could feel the contents of Vervain's stomach shift and a second later he let out an enormous belch that he couldn't quite cover his mouth for in time. His face flushed purple and he opened his eyes to give Harriet an apologetic look.

“Sorry.” He winced. “I can be sort of a pig when I’m in this state.”

“Sort of,” Harriet echoed. She pushed down on another bump, which prompted a loud gurgle and loosened another belch.

“Oh, now you're just being mean,” he huffed.

“Well, you wanted help digesting, right?”

“And you are such a good friend for it,” Vervain responded flatly.

Harriet started using both hands, then, almost taking a perverse joy in pressing and squeezing Vervain's stomach. It reminded her of the times when she'd been given something to make out of velvet when she'd been a tailor, and how she could lose hours squeezing the fabric in her hands, or rolling it between her fingers. It was great stress relief.

“Can I take that waistcoat?” Harriet asked, thinking of fabric. “Because, I mean....it'd be a waste otherwise...so...”

“Fine by me.” Vervain shrugged. He patted his belly and gave her a wry smirk. “He isn't using it anymore.”

Vervain yawned, fully relaxing into Harriet's touch as she continued to massage. After a while she checked the clock and stood up.

“Well I had better leave before Keiran comes looking for me,” she said, straightening her coat out. “I'd hate for him to think something had happened.”

“What are you going to tell him?” Vervain said, lazily watching Harriet as she swapped her makeshift postal worker jacket out for the paisley waistcoat.

“That you're at a convention,” Harriet said. “And as far as I know you're not a threat...not to us, anyway.”

“Good.” Vervain picked his teeth with one of his nails before laying back on his side and settling in for a nap.

#if you recognise any plot details from this and know what characters these were before I changed the names....I think you're cool #male pred #v0re #same size

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