#pphfffics

[peeppeephellofatface]

Here’s the Domeless Engines parody fic that I posted some stuff alluding to nearly a month ago.  Gordon agrees to some restaurant’s ridiculous challenge to show up Truro.  Who I’d kind of like to try doing more stuff with in the future since some people have managed to endear me to them. 

Stuffing, snuggling, etc you know the drill.

It was a cold winter evening and, feeling clammy and tired after working in the cold all day, Gordon didn't fancy the idea of making dinner. Instead he slunk away to a local restaurant.  He invited James to come along, knowing he'd need someone to chat with to help deal with his impatience while waiting.  Things had gone on about as expected, until he noticed a particularly rowdy party of green-clad fellows at another table, all wearing sweatpants.

"My, James, look at that lot.  This isn't a formal function by any means, but surely they ought to know better than to wear something like THAT in public."

"Psht, don't they look like they rolled right out bed and in the door!"

One of them overheard the two and turned around.  Gordon's eyes went wide with shock upon realizing it was his coworker, Duck. 

"Oh, but this is far more comfortable, you know?  Besides, having a stretching waistband can be very useful at times."

A small older fellow at the end of the table adjusted their glasses, winked at Gordon, and pointed at a picture on the wall. 

Duck continued.

"Truro certainly needed them beating the Challenge."

"What are you talking about?"

"Why, the 100 Cupcake Challenge, of course! Truro was the first person to finish it, you know."

"Nonsense, my brother claims he'd the one who did it first!  I can't imagine some small fry like that managing to beat out someone as gluttonous as him!"

"Just because Truro didn't get the official observers and media attention Scott did doesn't mean it didn't happen, though.  If a tree falls in a forest and nobody hears it, it still makes a sound, you know."

Gordon rolled his eyes and hissed a bit.

"In any case, I'm certain I could do it faster anyways."

"Well, have fun with that."

Duck chuckled and the others at his table joined in before turning away, resuming their own conversations as Gordon called over a waiter.

"You wish to take on our Challenge?"

He nodded.

"Understood.  Once we bring the cupcakes you will have two-"

"Oh, save your nonsense. I won't have any issues with your silly time limits, these sorts of things aren't a struggle for me the way they are for the likes of Truro."

The waiter raised an eyebrow, but then nodded and headed off to the kitchen.

In a bit, several of the waitstaff came over, hoisting up platters of ten cupcakes each.  Gordon began to remove his coat and passed it to James.

"I'll have no need for this."

There was a slight metallic clang as each tray was placed down and James was ushered away to ensure he wouldn't end up "helping out".  It was something he was surprisingly pleased by, as he was largely out of Gordon's sight now, but Gordon was still within his.  And so it began.

He spared no time as he began devouring the cupcakes with surprising grace and neatness, sliding each one into his mouth and wiping away any icing that wound up on his lips, not wanting to look like a slob.  He took fast, heavy breaths between each one, not even stopping for a more substantial breather.  It was one of the strangest yet most pleasing sites James had ever seen, seeing him so furious about something so seemingly ridiculous but also so... hot to him.  It didn't take long for him to clear each platter, and without his coat on he could see his middle clearly swelling.  As he was a good foot or so shorter than him and nearly half his weight it was like a blanket on him, so he cocooned himself up in it.  He covered the lower portion of his face with it, both to take in his smell and hide the growing blush spreading across his cheeks.

  He looked back to Gordon, who was still wolfing down cupcakes at his feverish pace.   He was somewhere around the seventh tray already, his belly taut against his shirt.  While he was relentless, but clearly struggling and panting harder between bites.  With each exhale his waistline cut harder into his sensitive underbelly.  Much as he wanted to stop to adjust things and make himself a bit more comfortable, his will to show up this Truro overwhelmed the urge.  But the inevitable still occurred.  As he reached for another cupcake he felt something pop off and suddenly he felt some relief from the pressure building in in middle.  And a bit of cool air where his fly had popped open.  He glanced down briefly and felt himself go red from the embarrassment, sincerely hoping the green party wasn't looking at him.  He didn't have much more to go, but getting through that eighth tray took a lot out of him. His stomach was puffed up more than ever before and throbbed from being pushed so hard, and his teeth ached from the sweetness of the frosting, but he had to keep going.  He was in the final stretch. 

He certainly managed to finish, and considerably faster than Truro had before.  But he was a wreck, and felt the part to boot.  Rather than celebrate his victory after downing the last cupcake, he just groaned and tried to stifle a burp before slouching back against the booth, trying not to think about the logistics of getting out of there while like this.  Unfortunately for James, someone had spotted him ogling Gordon and all he could do was splutter something about checking on him and being his "designated driver".  It was a fortunate ploy, as he soon had to half-drag Gordon to the car and strategically position himself to hide his belly.  He pulled the shotgun seat all the way back and laid Gordon down it in, making sure to buckle him in before taking the driver's seat and adjusting it forward himself.  He was silent and clenched his eyes in discomfort as he struggled to fall asleep to help nap it all off, but couldn't relax enough to do so for obvious reasons.  Usually his stomach was very quiet, even after larger meals, but now it was a mess of gurgles and groans.  He'd gone past his limit and his belly was full of trapped air gulped down from eating so quickly, bloating him even more.  That much sugar was also taking its toll on him and he could feel his middle tightening up from the cramping.  Still, he tried to hide it to avoid embarrassing himself and rested his head against the window.

  But James had other ideas. 

"H-hey Gordon, since nobody's around and we're alone.... c-can I, yknow, touch it?"

He cracked an eye open in response.

"Don't be vulgar."

"No, IT."

James gestured at his belly.  Gordon chuckled weakly and groaned.  But he obliged.

James bent over the center console and tugged his shirt up. Very slowly, he lowered his hand to his form and felt a tickle of warmth up his arm as he made contact with his soft skin.  He began to gently rub his swollen belly.  Gordon didn't make eye contact with him but gave out a groan, sigh, or occasional strained burp.  He was going to be stuffed firm for a while, but some of the pressure in his gut was relieved as James worked the air out and some of the tension in his face went away.  

It was awfully late and he did need to get home, so after Gordon seemed to have relaxed a bit more, James tugged his shirt back down, strapped himself back in and drove off.  Gordon was half-asleep and didn'y say a thing on the drive back. But his whenever the car came to a stop James could hear his stomach gurgling. While waiting for a stoplight he heard a particularly loud grumble and couldn't help but reach over and give his middle a gentle pat.  When the light turned green and he reached back to the wheel, he heard another stifled burp and chuckled to himself.  He did the same at subsequent lights, reaching up his shirt and soothing his upset belly with his touch.  As they reached the last light before arriving at their destination, he whispered to Gordon before rubbing him.

"Red's a splendid color, isn't it?"

He groaned. 

After lying down for a while, Gordon could walk a bit more easily.  James still stayed by his side to steady him (and check out his backside).  Gordon collapsed on a couch and sprawled out, his shirt nudging up a few inches as he stretched out to give his gut some room. 

"Want your coat back?"

"I don't need it."

"You don't fit it either."

His face went hot and he spluttered.

"S-Shut up!"

James squirmed up alongside him, nestling his face into his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his middle.  He was warm and soft. Even with how taut his belly was, he could sink his fingers into the thick layer of chub on top and knead his sides.

"No homo"

"You're bi, James."

"That's true."

"I.. don't really mind anyways.....I’m that way too.....But this isn't a good time for that."

James snorted as he snuggled closer. 

"Maybe you should have listened to those green blokes, that button sure didn't hold up to all those cupcakes."

He hissed in irritation.  James patted the top of his bulging middle teasingly, rubbing down its sides to feel just how big he was.  The slight warmth and gentle vibrations of grumbles echoing through his belly made him shiver in pleasure, as well as just thinking about how much bigger he was now compared to usual.  Really, he was much bigger in general than he realized.  After all, he didn't exactly get many opportunities to actually touch him or look at him close up and usually just saw him from afar.  Obviously he was much bigger in the middle now than usual, but he had never realized that it wasn't just thick or loose clothes making his thighs look so large.  They actually were that big.  The rest of him was the same way, heavy and bulky, but smoothed with a thick layer of fat and absolutely irresistible. Gordon was finally dozing off so he let his hands wander a bit and feel around his thick chest and arms.  He tried to keep a straight face in case he woke up suddenly, but just couldn't.  He felt so wonderful.  So wonderful he too fell asleep cuddling up to his plump form.  

[peeppeephellofatface]

I did the vampire Gordon fic early because I got impatient

He’s more the tubby, ravenous, sort from more traditional folklore than the Victorian sort of vampire.  Doesn’t spread his condition or have as many fancy weaknesses/strengths, just a body that never actually died and feeds on the living (though with considerably self-restraint).  Basically just a really big leech.

ft. blood drinking (duh), stuffing (probably more bloating or liquid inflation though), and some tummy rubs and burpy stuff

They were walking by the yard, on their way home after their business for the day.  Momentarily, they paused to watch a load of pigs leaving a van from a distance, hunching over and resting their elbows on the wooden fence in front of them.  They weren't in any hurry and it was kind of nice observing the working of the railway.  Shunters shuffled back and forth in the distance, puffs of steam and diesel smoke floating into the sky.  As their gaze wandered, they noticed a stream of smoke somewhere more unexpected- from behind a large crate.  Was it a fire?  Against their better judgement, they crept up to it to see what was burning and reached for their pocket, readying to whip out their phone and call the fire department.  

But they didn't see anything burning.  What they did find was something more unexpected.  

A grey figure dressed in blue was bent over, trying to subdue a squirming pig with surprising success, but not subduing the smoky aura that radiated from its figure.  All they could do was stare at them with a look of utter confusion.  They began to step back, but it seemed to notice the noise and whipped around.  The two stared at each other, both horrified, them gaping in even more confusion, and it in slight guilt as it hastily wiped a red liquid off its lips while still clasping the pig's mouth shut to silence it.  

Their stares continued as the figure gulped nervously and only broke the exchange by glancing at a small dribbling wound on the pig's underbelly.  

"Wha-what on earth?"

It was now breathing heavily, terrified of what they were going to do while they kept running their eyes all over them in shock.  

"Don't tell anyone you saw that."

It placed the pig down and shooed it away.  They slowly approached who or whatever this was.  

"You don't recognize me, do you?"

"N-no?"

"Well, I suppose that's a good thing.   Though it does make this so much harder to explain."

"Explain what?"

"Why I'm tucked away back here drinking the blood out of a live pig.  Why my skin is grey and my eyes are black."

"Don't the trains have grey skin like that?"

"Engines, locomotives, yes.  As does most of the other rolling stock, but not all.  You're getting closer."

"How did you even hold onto that pig like that?  You're.. obviously not human in strength."

"Go on, go on, isn't it obvious?"

'What?"

"I'm rather large, rather blue, obviously very strong and I'd show you fast I really am but now's not a good time.  Surely you've seen something that fits that description?"

"You're that one engine aren't you."

"You're not terribly observant, are you?  Indeed, I am probably who ypu are thinking about now.  Unless it's Henry back in the early days. Don't you dare even compare me to THAT disgrace."

"Gordon?"

"Yes."

What.. exactly happened to you?"

"Now, it's unimportant to go into the details of how I've gotten myself into this form, but what you ought to know is that the news lied to you.  My metal body may be perfectly functional, but truthfully, I am what you could call... undead.  They sanitized the story and rebuilt me so it's as if nothing really happened, but I died in a boiler explosion years ago.  Didn't think they'd be able to put me back together but remarkably they did due to a little supernatural luck.

"You're a zombie?"

"Vampire's more like it. A cat jumped over a piece of me that was flung miles away, which tends to do that to you.  Though I'm really more like big leech in that I don't have the special powers and weaknesses and such, just a hunger for the living and eternal clamminess inside me because I don't have a real fire anymore, just a magical one that somehow works but doesn't warm me up at all.  It makes no sense given that I really run on coal, but I feel so exhausted if I don't consume the blood of you living things by taking this form.  I usually borrow farm animals and sneak a few gulps from a good few dozen of them until I've had my fill.  I may be dead, but as Voltaire has said, we vampires have a commendable appetite.  Livestock is perfectly acceptable to me, but truly, human lifeblood is far superior, it's just an occasional indulgence for me since it's considerably harder to acquire without suspicion.  Don't worry, I don't bother humans without permission, but nobody besides my past... donors and now you are even aware of my little secret.  "

They weren't entirely sure how to feel about this new knowledge.

"Well, since you know about it now, you wouldn't mind letting me have some of yours, would you?  "

They went a bit pale in shock and confusion.

"I don't take much at all.  No more than the donation places would, I don't want to start a scene or suck you dry, just have a good taste of it.  And even if I could, well, I'm already rather full."

They looked down and for once took note of his body, as the pig had mostly hid him earlier.  He was much more the gluttonous, unusually healthy, heavyset sort of certain folklore rather than the slender Victorian variety. He was powerfully built but rather plump, and his fat middle strained against his shirt with what was presumably a belly full of blood.  He blushed a bit as they observed how bloated he was.  They felt themself blush too, particularly as they shyly reached out to gently rub him there, a little concerned that he looked a bit uncomfortable. They felt their face get even hotter as they look back up at him and nervously whispered something to him.

"Can I feel your tummy if I let you do it?"

"Oh yes, yes of course!  I'd appreciate it even without compensation, but I'll gladly take both."

He winked and reached to them so he could pull them beside him.  

"So you're going to bite my... neck?"

"That's one of the traditional places, yes.  Some prefer the abdomen because it's more easily hidden for repeat donors but the mark just looks like a bit of a gash to those unaware."

"I... could kinda go for the neck, actually."

He nodded.

"Now, it may sting a little at first but otherwise you won't feel much. What I will do is make a  cut that and suck up what comes out until I've hit the safe maximum.  Afterwards I'll lick it a bit to help stop the bleeding but you should seek attention once I'm done.  I make sure to be as neat as I can, I might be a bloodsucker but that messy, dribbling look makes my skin crawl and blood's a difficult stain too.  And we're trying to pass this off as something that could have come from a particularly sharp branch or accident with a knife or something else equally mundane.  This is also a notice that I cannot carry diseases due to being both dead and a machine, one that also regularly gets hot enough inside to kill virtually anything harmful.  I don't spread my condition either, or at least not until after you die.  I haven't heard of reports of undead livestock so I doubt it would do even that."

They nodded and turned around so they were face-to-face.  They were still as he found his mark and opened his mouth, showing a brief flash of two fairly short but very sharp fangs.  Like he had said, they felt nothing from the bite and only knew it had happened when they felt a bit of blood begin to drip down, then the soft nibbling and sucking of his mouth.  As they relaxed they reached out and started gently rubbing his middle as he sighed in pleasure from the taste of their blood.  It was fascinating watching and feeling him feed even if it wasn't very much.  Their other hand reached under his jawline and felt his neck as he swallowed small mouthfuls of the warm liquid, savoring the taste.  They moaned too as they felt the thick layer of chub over the firm, warm form of his overstuffed middle.  He really could be what he drank- a pig.  But he was so big and soft and irresistible to the touch, and the feeling of someone as huge and powerful as him so gently mouthing against their sensitive skin was wonderful.  All too soon, they felt him draw back to lap up the last of the blood.  

"There.  That's it."

They sighed and curled into his chest, making a gentle smile spread across his face as he licked a bit of stray blood from his corner of his lip.  The pressure against his swollen gut made him groan in pain as he realized he probably did go just a bit too far.  Usually his stomach was nearly silent, but overdoing it on the blood could give him some considerable grumbles.  He covered his mouth to stifle a burp.  They bent back a bit to give him a bit more room and tugged his straining pants button loose, letting his middle bulge forwards.

"It's so big..."

"What can I say?  I'm a big engine with a good appetite.  And if you look at living bloodsucking creatures, it's typical for them to feed this way.  Shame I don't get warm after eating like I used to.  It's whole reason I go for fresh blood whenever I can- because I like the heat.  And cold blood is disgusting.  It's best compared to warm milk or cooked food left to go cool."

They slowly rubbed the lower part of his belly, pressing their ear against it and marveling at the gurgling and sloshing inside.  Giggling a little, they swatted at his side to make the liquid inside wobble, triggering some more intense grumbles and a sizeable burp.

"Aw, did you swallow some air?"

He nodded a bit shyly.

They slowly kneaded into the bulge of his engorged middle to help work it out.  He groaned a bit from the pressure until the first belch worked its way up.  His tummy slowly softened as he burped more, until he seemed to relax and all they could feel were his heavy layers of fat and muscle and the malleable squish of the liquid inside.  

"Well, you'd best be going. I can't go anywhere anytime soon and surely you have other matters to attend to."

They sighed as they rested their head against his belly, then nodded, a bit of sadness in their eyes. But before they left, they playfully pulled his shirt up and kissed his middle, winking at him as they remembered what he had said earlier, before getting up and walking off.  He chuckled to himself and tugged it back down to help hide the bloating, though it wasn't something he could exactly hide easily.

--------

Later that night they were asleep, and dreamed that they met Gordon again.  Once again they felt his soft cheek brush against them as he made the incision in their neck and began to feed.  He was much smaller in the middle than he'd been when they saw him, though still noticeably round and plump.  Clearly he had not fed yet.  They were mildly concerned, until they looked at their wrist, noticing the "D" they usually drew there wasn't there.  They became acutely aware that this was a dream, and considerably relaxed, smiling as they got a wonderful idea.  After a bit, Gordon pulled back from drinking but they pressed him back.

"You can have more.  I have and endless supply."

"Y-You do?"

"Yes, go ahead and have all you want.  Make a bigger hole if you even want to."

His face lit up, though kept a hint of disbelief.  He bit a larger gash into them and they felt a considerable gush of blood flow out, which he greedily gulped down, struggling to keep up with the flow at times.  That gave them another idea, perhaps a bit of an evil one.  They willed the flow to increase until he could barely manage it, practically forcing the hot liquid down his throat.  Though he struggled with it, he found himself moan as he guzzled it down in thick swallows, feeling himself filling up rapidly.  As he was used to taking small, calculated drinks, being able to gorge so rapidly like this was amazingly satisfying.  

The only downside was just how fast they had filled him up.  They heard his swallows growing fainter and shuddery and felt his glutted middle, swollen with their endless supply of blood.  

"You full?"

He nodded.   He took one last gulp at the stream slowed before licking them and flopping back to relieve some of the pressure on his bloated gut.    

[peeppeephellofatface]

In an unexpected turn of events, I’m putting the fic about Duke and Henry up.

Nothing kinky.  It’s more angst than anything.  Like uh, blatant talk of visceral hatred of other engines, scrapping, and lots of self-deprecation.  It’s very out of tone for this blog but dammit, it came out well and I wanted to post it somewhere. 

While the television show did not come until years after steam had ended in Britain, it was undeniable that most engines knew of the stories of the Railway Series.  At some point or another, they all had heard crew or passengers talk of various fictional steam engines amongst each other, and in turn told other engines about the same tales while they stood side-by-side at stations or were gathered in roundhouses.  And over time, these stories took on almost folkloric qualities amongst rolling stock.  Many smaller or weaker engines were enamored by the absurd fantasy of an E2 actually able to travel faster than walking pace, let alone pull a passenger train without running out of coal, and wondered if they too could someday overcome the restrictions of their design like that.  The morals explained to human children through the stories were shared more literally to new engines.  Banking engines would mutter the words of Edward or the Little Engine that Could as they went about their jobs.  And in the late days of steam, some engines would dream of being bought by such an idyllic railway where nothing would ever permanently harm them and everything seemed to go right.  Some even began treating the place as an afterlife, due to the fact that so many of the locomotives there were of classes long or recently extinct.

The one that had particularly stuck with the Duke of Gloucester, unsurprisingly, was the story of Henry.  Both had been botched engines with disappointing performance due to poor steaming.  The main difference was that Henry's controller and crew had shown some inkling of care for him, and in typical deus ex machina fashion found a miraculous way to turn him around.  Well-meaning engines would try to reassure the Duke with this, but after hearing the same thing so many times, he grew to hate that fictional Henry.  How others assumed such fundamentally flawed engines always had some easy fix to make them useful again and that everything would be well in the end.  How everything eventually went well for that bloke and damn near everyone else on that nonexistent island that must have been off the coast of lalaland rather than England, while everything was going so wrong for himself.  He was destined to be an only child by the onset of dieselization, and knew he was little more than a cheaply-made stopgap made to fill in for a vastly superior engine and would soon be disposed of and replaced by another vastly superior engine.  He spent life as a widely disliked backup for failed engines that crews hated to deal with and more than wasted the money saved on his construction by the excessive fuel he needed due to his draughting issues.  And he knew they'd never care enough to fix him- it wasn't just self-deprecation, but fact, and he refused to lie about such a thing to himself.  And the resentment only grew to hatred as his fate was sealed and he was sent off to some scrapyard after a museum took his cylinders and left the rest of him to rot.  

That time was one of the worst times in his life not because of what he saw, but how aggravating his powerlessness was.  He knew the inevitable was coming and just wanted to hurry up and happen instead of having to sit around in utter boredom surrounded by the other rotting hulks.  After a while, he couldn't even be bothered by the sight of them he'd  grown so used to it.  Sure, other engines were being saved but there was no way anyone would want something as worthless and incomplete as him.  It was a matter of waiting, and wait he did, as the scrapyard had chosen to process the old wagons first, and his wait stretched from months to years.  Leaving him to stew in his aggravation and regret, knowing how his only chance at life had been so short and squandered and miserable while the old tales of that idyllic island continued to echo inside him.  At times he found himself looking at the other engines there and imagined them as those infernal machines from that island, their bright paint overcome with rust and repenting for their past snottiness and blatant lack of care for their duties.  They got away with all kind of accidents and laziness and constantly were spared by their controller, why wasn’t it the same for the other objectively better engines dying around him?  Why wasn’t it that way for him?  Though he always cut off that last thought with the obvious.  The others were mostly perfectly serviceable.  He was a nothing but a defective back-up.  Still, that Henry was defective and he got to live, yet he kept on whining and causing trouble.  He'd never do such things if he'd been in a place like this. Jealousy burned within him.  It brought him sick pleasure to imagine that engine languishing there, repenting and begging for mercy.

------

But as many know, miraculously, the Duke was recovered and finally rebuilt more or less as actually designed with some improvement, something he'd never considered, let alone dreamed of previously.  And it was in the 90s and 2000s that he began to catch up with the world beyond the scrapyard and workshop.  Most notably, one day he realized that Sodor was indeed a real place after he was sent on a run there.  It wasn't that nobody knew it existed or that it suddenly came to be, it was just something largely kept secret amongst those that had been there for the sake of maintaining some privacy. 

Duke felt ill whenever he thought about those old stories because of how inseparable they were from his dark years.  He still couldn't believe the things he thought then, but still he remembered and understood that mindset far too clearly for comfort.  He'd tried to shove those stories all aside and forget about them and just focus on his own noises or whatever small details he could see within his narrow field of vision whenever people talked about them.  On his way to the island, he couldn't stop thinking about it.  His driver was getting aggravated with him making the train late, as he wasn't running his best with the mental state he was in.

"Duke, what's gotten into you?"

"Nothing, nothing.  I just need to go harder.  You know how I can be.  I need to be pushed.  It's okay, I'd rather people be too harsh on me than too lax.  It's really quite difficult to be that way with me, actually.."

"That's understandable."

Duke enjoyed being run hard, and the exertion helped cloud his mind and blur the scenery.  But inevitably, he did arrive at his dreaded destination.  He knew it had to be the place by the bright green engine standing at the station he was approaching.  He knew he'd never see mainline engines that vivid anywhere else.  He could only hope it wasn't Henry, as the thought that all these years the object of his aggravation had been real made him feel so... profane.  He couldn’t remember what color he had been, though.  He was ready and plotting try to find some excuse to just get the job done and get out of the place and never have to meet the engines there and just bury that part of his life again. 

As he approached the engine, he caught a brief glimpse of it before his smoke deflectors blocked his vision.  He wasn't familiar enough with the finer points of most engine designs to tell them apart but he was certainly one of the classes of unremarkable mixed-traffic ten-wheelers. That was reassuring.  Supposedly, Henry had been some sort of Pacific to start with and this clearly wasn't one.  He heard a soft voice beside him as he stopped.

"You're the visitor?"

"Yes."

"You're an interesting looking fellow, who are you?"

"A-A Standard."

"I know that, but what's your name?"

"It's irrelevant."

"Well aren't you friendly?  I was just wondering who you were.   Ages ago I swore I saw an engine around Crewe with odd valve gear like you."

"Pfft.  Plenty of Standard 5s with that.  Caprotti valve gear's not that unique."

"Oh.  I could have sworn it had smoke deflectors like you, but it was awfully long ago.  I'll leave you be. I understand.  I'm that way myself oftentimes."

Duke was silent for a second while passengers got on and off the trains and photographs were snapped of the two engines. As he realized that he was going to be here a while, he decided he may as well kill some time with that other engine.  He really didn't want to, but he couldn't see it and the lack of visible face calmed him a little.  He could just pretend it was another regular engine or even a very loud human.

"So this is a the fabled island of Sodor?"

"It's funny how you folks from the Mainland never believe this place is real."

"So how accurate are the stories?"

"The books are fairly close.  The show not so much, the creators seem dead-set on showing all my worst traits and it's horribly embarrassing."

"Shame about that.  Hope the workers here know to look past reputations. I've dealt with plenty who didn't.  But that was the past."

"Usually once people are at that sort of skill level they know well that the show is often just a load of rubbish.  It's more the general public that irritates me."

"I'm sure glad there's not too much out there involving my early years.  I'd be happy to forget them all entirely and trick myself into thinking I'm a new build."

"If only they could forget about mine.  It was ages ago but it's the early stories that most seem to be familiar with, and they'll never shut up about mine and how "inspirational" I was.  Oh, please, there's nothing inspirational about going from being a disgrace who can't do anything to just a regular disgrace."

"I was so awful I didn't even have any classmates."

"I'd be impressed by that if I weren’t a one-off myself for that exact reason.  Used to be, at least.  I'm still not sure what they did to me to make me what I am now, but I'm not complaining."

"I know all the details about what they did to me, but I'll spare you from it all, it was.. certainly a lot.  Unless you absolutely insist."

"Not really.  This is probably a bit sudden, but I kind of like you, whoever you are.  It's rare to find someone who'll take me seriously and understands me.  Funny how we're so similar, unless you're full of rubbish."

"Yes... same here..."

Duke trailed off, becoming increasingly concerned about who this was.  Plenty of engines had been rebuilt before.  This didn't have to be who he feared.

But then he said exactly what Duke had been dreading.

"It's been nice to meet you, I'm Henry."

His eyes went wide in panic and he had to clench to keep the rest of himself from doing anything that could alarm the passengers or... him.  He had had never been more thankful for having his smoke deflectors.

The two sat there, silent, while Duke felt too sick and horrified to respond.   This was the Henry he wanted to see rot with him so long ago.  The one he so despised.  He was real and right here and now he couldn't stand the guilt of his conscious for his invisible crimes knowing what he did.   And there was no escaping, he couldn't just outright tell him while they were little more than strangers but also couldn't bear with being around him with that cloud hanging over him all the time.  Thankfully, the whistle was blown soon and he was off.  Henry tried to whistle to him as a farewell, still confused by his silence, but Duke did not respond.  He was wordless on his way back as well, even when questioned by his crew.  

"What happened between you and that other bloke?  One moment you two seemed to get on fine and then that sudden silence?  What's gotten into you?"

Duke wouldn't answer.

To this day, Duke has never returned to that island, for fear of seeing him again.  There was too much that he knew that Henry didn't and he didn't think he could ever speak to him again without it coming out and souring things further or pressing that kind of guilt on him for something that may have been augmented or entirely fictional even. And a thought lingered in the back of his mind.  What if Henry knew of him?  What if he quietly had the same resentments about him and was just as paranoid about running into him as he was?  That felt like too strange of a coincidence, though.  His life had already been a string of miracles and luck, there was no way something like that would happen.  Most likely Henry had never known who he was, or only been told about him once or twice because their experiences had been similar.  He was overthinking all of this.  All he could do was cram it away in the back of his mind.  No way could he make up for that sudden departure.  Best to forget that island ever existed and fake whatever illness needed to not go back.  Thank god he never told him his name.  

[peeppeephellofatface]

Oh, I found those mini-fics I did back in like.. August and I guess I had actually finished three of them so here you go.

1. The fabled incident where Duke accidently tried to wear Oliver’s pants.

2. Mal cares for sick Duke

3. Evening Star tries to get Green Arrow to cal down by feeding her.

It was awkward to say the least to meet his much more successful cousins, the Standard 7s.  After all, in service all the engines knew of his faults and to this day he still doubted himself, afraid they would come back or others still resented him.  He couldn't really envision the vision going well at all since he knew it was going to be painful hearing their new praise of him only after he'd been substantial changed, with the knowledge that they surely looked down on him as a burden in the past and only kept it secret to spare his feelings.   Surprisingly, they completely ignored the topic, preferring to chat about amusing things humans do, until Oliver had suggested they quit messing around and go help out the cleaners.  Being a messy affair, they had changed out of their standard Brunswick Green clothes and into more suitable ones.  The task wasn't as unpleasant for them as it often was humans, as they generally didn't mind heat and grime, though the tight spaces proved troublesome for them with their larger builds.   Afterwards, the three dug their clothes out of the heap they had tossed them in. Seeing as the Britannias had had no trouble redressing, the Duke thought nothing of the fact that their pants all looked nearly identical.  Something that was going to give him a moment of indignity.   Oliver quietly raised an eyebrow as he noticed that his felt a bit loose, particularly in the rear.  Perhaps he'd put on Britannia's instead, even as siblings their proportions in this form weren't identical. He looked up blank-faced as his sister seemed to have no issue putting hers on. It seemed they fit the way they always did.  And then he turned around to see... well, quite a sight.   The Duke was something of a cousin to them, having some similarities in design.  They were roughly the same heights in this form, and back in the day had been roughly the same size as well.  Clearly the latter was no longer true.   They were stuck around the tops of his plump thighs as he struggled with the waistband, trying his best to pull them up over his rather ample backside.  Oliver smirked a bit at his predicament as he looked directly into his frantic eyes, blushing with embarrassment.  Britannia noticed the silence of the two and turned to look at whatever seemed to have caught Oliver's attention, only to bust out in raucous laughter at the Duke's predicament. "Preservation treating you well, Duke?" His gaze grew harder and he glared at Oliver's snide comment.  He went to yank what were clearly not his pants up, only to relax again and bite his lip in shame. "Uh, a little help?" Fortunately, he was happy to comply and soon were fully clothed again.   "Er, I need to go now... please don't speak of this again." "Of course we won't." He felt Britannia's hand press into his soft midsection and squeeze at the fat, getting hot from embarrassment again. "You're pretty cute with some pudge, you know. Goes well with your soft personality." He tugged her hand away and rushed out the door, not wanting to be in that situation any longer.   ---------------------------- Mallard had gotten up very late that day after a restless night.  It was probably the excitement of getting to meet the Duke again the next day that had kept him up, but he also just couldn't get comfortable no matter what he did.  He kept hearing every little clack or bang in the museum, every fly landing on his casing, every minute thing going on that could possible distract him from actually sleeping.   It struck him as odd that the Duke hadn't come out to meet him after presumably waiting so long.  Sunlight already shining through the skylights, Mal stumbled over to the room where they usually met to see if he was late as well.   He was there already, but not the way he was expecting him to be.   He was huddled under the blanket, curled up and desperately attempting to avoid eye contact.  He clamped a hand over his mouth as he belched rather loudly, coughing back black smoke.  He looked mortified to see Mal while he was in this state, but sighed in resignation. "I'm not entirely sure what's wrong with me.  All I know is I'm feeling awful and probably look like a wreck." Mallard looked at him with concern and a hint of confusion, not entirely sure what to do with him like this.  He weakly gestured for him to join him under the covers and pulled his hands around his clammy body.  He'd slowly but steadily been putting on weight in preservation, something that presented itself as a new roundness to his rear and thighs and a plump, gently curved belly.  But by the upset gurgles and tightness in his middle, Mal could tell he was bloated. "See if you can press into it a bit.  Or if all else fails, try rubbing." Mal gingerly began stroking light circles, unsure in his actions.  He weakly met his hands with his own and urged him to rub a bit harder. His mouth gaped a bit, trying what he could to get out some of the gas.  He felt some air coming up and Mal braced for one of his notoriously fierce burps. But felt stifled.  Soft.  He squeezed him a bit tighter as he saw him struggling, but he just whimpered in pain as the pressure shot a bolt of pain through his swollen gut.   "It's okay, I'm sure you can do it." "urp." Another weak one.  His face was strained as he tried to muster a stronger belch, but he just couldn't manage it.   "Ugh, I'm usually more than adapt at this sort of thing." Mal was silent, not really sure what he could say in response to make him feel better.  He curled his long limbs around him and began to gently rub him, one hand on his belly and the other drifting between the other places he knew he enjoyed having touched.  The bit of muffin top that poked over his waistband, his broad, somewhat malleable chest, his rounded jawline, his full thighs and rear.  The Duke sighed and rested his head on Mal's shoulder, as he often had done to him when he didn't feel well either.  He closed his eyes and sighed in contentment, flinching as his stomach roiled and weakly managing another soft burp. "Thank you, Mal." ---------------------- Green Arrow wasn't exactly taking static display well.   She could hardly stand to stay in her engine while the visitors were there as she was so jittery and kept popping out to run around and stretch her legs.  She kept up the other engines at night with the rhythmic thumping of her pressing off against the walls at the end of the hallway she had chosen as her raceway.   "Dear Riddles, won't you calm down, Greenie?  Some engines here appreciate having some downtime, you know?" She turned to see Evening Star casting her an annoyed but half-asleep glance.   "Sorry.  Being couped up like this all day is just... intolerable.  Ugh, I'm used to rushing about with freight and railtours, not sitting around like this all the time." "Eh, you'll lose the energy eventually.  I guess I can't really blame you for enjoying it while you can." "What sorts of things do you guys tend to do when you're bored, anyways?" "Eh, you know.  The stuff you hear Mal get up to.  Deviant things, eating too much, arguing, sometimes venturing to the outside world if we feel like nobody wil notice we're gone.  Though that can be tough if we can't find someone in better shape to help us sneak out.  Hard to be stealthy when you can barely walk-" "We can eat?" "Well, plenty of us have.  It's kind of nice, though not exactly necessary..." She suddenly got an amazing idea.  Surely having something heavy to eat would calm her down. "I have some ice cream in the freezer.  Well it's actually Scotsman's, but he goes through it fast enough I'll don't think he'll even care if it's gone.  Want to try some?" She nodded.  Soon she was helping Evening Star walk to the room.   ---- "My heads hurts." "It's just brain freeze.  Get used to it or try pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth.  How's it taste?" "It's wonderful.  So this is what tasting things is like..." "Personally I like the satisfaction of swallowing as well." She winked.  Her statement was both honest and a subtle prod to hurry up a bit, as she was getting rather tired and was hoping Green would settle down sooner if she got this done quicker.   Green seemed content to have her feed her little spoonfuls of it.  Eve sighed in a bit of irritation.  Those Big Four locos were used to having to be fussed after so much compared to other Standards and it showed in this form as well.  Preferred to be coddled and a bit dependent rather than be spared the indignity of having others do so much for them.  Still, it was kind of nice.  The more she looked at her, the more she realized she was rather cute.  Looked a bit like Scotsman had back in the day, but a bit smaller.  Typical straight torso and slight ramp to her hips like the larger Gresley tended to have.  Perhaps not the most conventionally attractive face, but her features were bold and distinct, but approachable and gentle, with somewhat thick eyebrows, large eyes, and a straight, solid nose.  She felt a bit guilty for feeling this way about her, given how she often seemed uncomfortable when others expressed their attraction to her.  Still, she seemed distracted enough by the novelty of eating that she didn't seem bothered by her stare.  She'd never paid much attention to her until now, but she did have nice lips.   Green smiled contentedly and tried to get up, only to groan in pain and flop back down on Eve's lap.   "Why does it hurt?" "Mmm, sometimes if you eat too much it can hurt like that.  It usually happens when you try it the first time unless you only go with a little bit." "Any way to make it go away?" Eve blushed and looked away a bit. "Uhh, I can try rubbing you there... i-if you're alright with that." "That would be nice." She put the near-empty container and spoon down and rested her hands over her middle.  Unsurprisingly, she wasn't as big as say, Mallard or Scotsman who'd been eating for a while and could handle a lot more.  She began to gently stroke and knead at the slight bulge, which made Green squirm a bit from the tickling. "Do you like that?" "I love it, do it some more!" She began to relax a bit, and nodded in agreement.   Green wasn't as soft as a lot of the engines in the museum, as she'd been active until relatively recently.  Still, she had a nice squish to her like most bigger engines did and it felt nice.  Seeing how much she was enjoying it and how her discomfort seemed to be subsiding, Eve began to tickle her sides and squeeze at her.        

[peeppeephellofatface]

Yeah, what’s up, here’s the Spencer fic.

Some anonymous feeder fills up that big boy’s tummy with lots of treats. That’s really about it.

Obviously, stuffing, burping, chub, and some force-feeding in there :P

He had always been one of the softer ones of his class, with gently rounded rear, a considerable paunch to his middle, and fuller cheeks than his sharper-featured siblings.  If not for his silver dress, one could easily assume that somehow another A3 had survived.  And that was what had endeared him to them when they first saw him.  

"Are you done for the day, Spencer?"

They had snuck into his shed and stood in front of him, looking up at his smooth face.

"After all, we don't want to have a repeat of what happened that time they found you after a.... little overindulgence."

"Oh, I'm sure I'm finished.  It's awfully late, I can't imagine the Duke and Duchess are going anywhere at this hour."

They nodded back and extended their hand towards him as he materialized, holding it in his own.  His fingers were rather dainty considering his size.

He didn't bother to pause before starting to walk off towards the place, leaving them scrambling behind to catch up to his quick walking pace.  Much as he was in engine form, he was remarkably quick in this form, particularly with his bulk.

"Well, hurry up, won't you?  I'm rather hungry."

"Getting there faster won't matter, you'll still have to wait for me!"

He sighed and stopped to let them close the gap, pouting a bit and looking around in exaggerated annoyance.  Until they caught up, and slipped a hand up his shirt.  He yelped and blushed a bit as he felt them squeeze at a handful of his belly.  After a good chuckle, they let go of him and the two continued at much closer paces.  They smiled at how well his plump backside filled out his pants, getting a bit flustered themself.  They patted it for good measure as he unlocked the door.  They couldn't see his reaction, but heard him sigh in pleasure.  

--------

He was sprawled out across the couch as they finished arranging the plates of desserts for him.  As most engines did in preservation, Spencer had put on a bit more weight.  Not as much as many others with how active he was, but he was definitely a bit fatter now compared to the older pictures of him.  They crawled on top of him and squeezed his full thighs and chubby middle, purring at how good he felt.  But then they pulled back, narrowing their eyes as they looked over him more closely.  Was he... getting even bigger?

"Let me see that sweet tummy, big boy."

They tugged his shirt up to just under his chest, feeling his plump belly in their hands, as their own face got hot along with his.   Their hands trailed around to his sides, gently kneading at his soft flesh as they moved around his torso, feeling their fingers sink in a bit deeper than they had before.  

"Aw, looks like you're becoming an even bigger boy, aren't you?"

"What?  But... how?"

"I'm not sure.  But it's so adorable on you."

He scooted back a bit to position himself more upright, his fat middle resting on his lap.  He slowly met his hand to their own and marveled at what must have happened to him.  They slid theirs out from under his and beneath his chin, stroking it as they brought a first bite of cake to his lips.  While some may lament how dense cakes have grown over the years and yearned for the lighter, generic chocolate cakes of the past, Spencer loved rich food.  He moaned as they started to feed him more, petting the side of his belly the way he liked it.  It felt heavier and heavier as they filled him up, continuing their rubbing to help keep him from getting bloated and snippy as he sometimes did when he ate too much too fast.  He wasn't as bad as Scotty, sure, but for an A4 he had a vicious appetite, with how his coal consumption was usually higher than the others due to his single chimney.  After a while they straddled his middle and positioned theirself somewhere between his legs and his lap so they could get closer to him.  Warmth radiated from him, as it always did when he ate, drawing them closer.  

They rested an arm against him as they turned to another plate, accidentally putting a bit too much pressure on him.

"Could you scoot over a b-URP"

With the next plate in their hand, they turned around and giggled at him.  

"Heh, sorry about that!"

They gave his belly a light pat in apology with their free hand.  He was looking considerably bigger and wasn't as soft as he was normally.  Clearly getting pretty full.  They kept giving him little bites of the treats and stroking his middle until he started refusing them, looking away with a somewhat pained and annoyed expression.  They glanced down at how tight his pants were against his stomach and loosened them for him, rubbing the underside of it where it was a bit red and sore from the pressure afterwards.  

"You're getting so big, darling."

"I know."

"Think you can take more?"

"Pfft, of course!"

"Well, let's get out some of that air first."

Spencer blushed.  Burping was so embarrassing for him, especially when someone had to help him with it.  He just wasn't used to the sensation since he hadn't actually tried eating in this form until relatively recently.  He felt himself getting red as they slid back a bit and gently massaged his swollen belly, knowing what was coming.

Of course, his burps were, frankly, anticlimactic.  For how worked up he got over them, they were usually quiet and airy rather than more forceful like most of his siblings'.  They chuckled at his reaction.  It was so cute how his belches were so soft even though he was so big.  Their kneading got a bit firmer, making them a bit flustered from the feeling of their hands sinking into his warm flesh.  

"There, that should feel a little better.  And you'll have some more room for more, big boy."

They turned to the container of ice cream behind them to start scooping it out for him, only to realize how stupid they had been by leaving it out this whole time.  It was gooey, practically liquid from sitting around for a while.  But then they smiled, getting an even better idea.  Turning back to Spencer, they brought the container towards his lips and raised their eyebrows, smirking at him a bit to see if he got the hint.   His eyes widened a bit in surprise, but he slowly opened his mouth and let them pour it in, groaning and sighing between thick swallows.  They felt their own breathing growing heavy in excitement as they felt the hand on his belly rise as the thick liquid filled him.  His head tilted back further as they raised the angle of the container to pour it all in, until there were just a few sticky dregs left.  They pulled it away while he licked off his lips and spooned up the bit of solid ice cream for him.

"Ugh, can I have the other one as well?"

They gave him a look of shock and wonder at how he possibly would have room for more, but shrugged and opened the other carton. He greedily gulped it down as well, and they marveled at how much he was managing to put away.  Halfway through, they tilted it back a bit to slow the flow and give him a chance to breathe as he began struggling.  He moaned and winked at them, and they tipped it back the other way, forcing the last of it into him faster than before. His belly pushed further out and he teared up a bit as he found himself hitting his limit, shuddering with the each mouthful and seething once he had finished it off.  

"Uggh, I'm so full it hurts..."

"Oh, you're far beyond full, more like stuffed beyond your limit.  You're such a good boy, eating everything I wanted you to and even more like that.  Let's help that tummy settle and help that pain.  

He felt himself flush again as he looked down, realizing how bloated he was, and placed a hand to his side in wonder.  They nudged it aside and pressed their own hands into his belly, gently squeezing it and massaging the tight bulge of it, eliciting a muffled belch from him, blocked by his hand out of modesty.  He leaned back again to make himself more comfortable and give them better access to his hot, distended middle.  There was a faint slosh from the liquid inside of him as he moved.  They smiled at him and jiggled it a bit to rile him up and hear more of those noises.  He burped and moaned several times as they continued kneading his tummy, an occasional gurgle coming from it as it struggled to deal with so much food.

"It's funny, Spencer.  You only really seem to complain about your stomach hurting from overeating.  Seems you can eat just about anything without too much trouble, unlike some of your relatives."

He felt a bit of pride inside from that fact.

"Like how some of them get crampy and grumbly if they eat something too heavy or sweet, but then there's you, and you ate... so much and all you did was get some air stuck in there."

He gave himself a closed smile as he looked down at his stuffed gut, and tugged them into his warm, soft form.  They purred as they hugged his figure with one arm and continued stroking his quietly gurgling belly with the other.  He leaned his head back as began to slip into a food coma, but they had other ideas.  They moved back a little and kissed the top of his tummy, groping at his chubby sides and nibbling at his sensitive skin a little, trailing more of them downwards until they reached the underwear line.  They gave the bottom of his belly a last pat and squirmed back up to rest their head against his chest again as the two finally drifted off to sleep.  

[peeppeephellofatface]

Gordon and the Ghost Hands

Pretty self-explanatory.  Some ghosts hands have fun with Big Blue.

It had been a long and rough day.  He wasn't thinking straight and had done some regrettable things.  Being too rash and making his drivers pull him back before he ran signals or missed stations, being the opposite and stubbornly refusing to move, snapping at other engines.  Stranger and stranger things seemed to be happening on the island and it was beginning to dawn on him that something was going horribly wrong with the world.  Time seemed to speed up to a pace he couldn't stand or even comprehend without getting aggravated.  Usually when he felt the world blur like this it was a from something he could stop.  He would slow to approach a station and things would come back into focus again.  But he didn't know when that stop was going to come now.

Remnants of sunlight dimly glowed blue through the half-curtained window.  Enough light where he could see vague outlines of himself and large objects, but not much more.  He stumbled over to the couch, relaxing a little as he settled down and sprawled out.  Sometimes he felt a bit tight after being stuck as a face for a while and wanted to stretch out his long legs.  

He shut his eyes for a bit, not really planning to sleep, not planning to do anything but lie down for a bit, really.  Just try to have a moment of calm he hadn't had for a while.  His face finally relaxed as he just laid there and took a few deep breaths.  A gentle draft blew through a window left half-open.  He wrinkled his nose as he felt a few wisps of stray hair brush at his forehead and peeked a bit to see where the breeze was coming from.   It was becoming too dark to really tell for sure, all that was visible now were a few blocks of faint navy from the dying light.  But he felt the air get colder.  Normally he hated the cold, but... now was different. He'd been quietly agitated all day and still felt heated now, and the chill across his skin was oddly calming.  His eyes began to drift shut again when he thought he saw something.

There was a faint white glow across the room, coming from around one of those windows.  As he squinted at it, he thought he saw more lights.  A little trail of them was materializing and fluttering in through the window.  That must have been the one left open.  The soft orbs floated across the room, gracefully maneuvering around lamps, bookcases, and assorted tall furniture.  Trailing slowly but steadily towards  him.   As the leading one grew closer, he noticed they were tiny disembodied hands, scarcely larger than a butterfly and faintly tinged blue.  He couldn't focus enough to tell exactly how many there were, but they drifted closer and closer.  As the first hand approached him, he froze up and tilted away, his eyes squeezing back shut again.  

There was a cool touch against his cheek.  His lids slowly lifted open again to see the glowing hand resting against the side of his face, trailing downwards as it stroked a finger along his soft jawline.  He was too tired to really bother resisting it and let his head fall back a bit.  It traced along his face to his chin, stroking his neck softly.  He felt another cool touch on his shoulder and noticed another hand had settled there.  It was much denser than he had expected, much more like a lead fishing weight than a regular human's hand.  But there was something comforting about its weight, and that of the other hands as they landed on him and starting lightly petting him as well.  

The last of them settled on him, perching like resting moths along his arms and down his torso and legs.  After glancing around in the dim light the swarm cast to make sure nobody else was around, he let his head relax against the side cushion again, letting the ghostly hand pet the crook of his neck.  He sighed a bit as the hands nudged his long legs in and simply enjoyed their touch.  They gently kneaded at the softer parts of him.  The back and underside of his arms, where their powerful forms were most padded.  His dense but malleable thighs.  The gentle convex curve of the underside of his chin.  His plump midsection.  They didn't come trying to test him or annoy him, just for whatever their unknown motivation was.  They probably didn't even have any ulterior motives, likely just messing with this mere mortal out of curiosity, or perhaps even admiration.  It was nice being touched in a neutral way like this.  Gradually, he could feel their affections gravitating towards his soft belly, aside from the one hand still caressing his face.  He was more alert now, back to being confused again.  The hand on his face lifted and touched a glowing finger to his lips, then prodded them lightly.  He parted them briefly in bewilderment.  

Only to feel something small and spherical slip in, a bit larger than a marble.  He recognized the taste.  White chocolate.  He wasn't sure where it had some from.  Perhaps the hands had materialized it.  Whatever it was, it was smooth, creamy, and wonderful.  The hand patted his cheek in encouragement as he felt it press another one to his lips.  He thought about refusing, knowing where things like this had gone before, but he oddly enough went along with it and accepted this chocolate as well.  The hands seemed benevolent enough, particularly when he felt them scatter from the sensitive centerline of his middle when he had flinched from their initial touch there. They seemed to understand him.  

He let one orb after another in, swallowing them whole after a while as he began to realize that he was rather hungry.  One of the other hands seemed fascinated by the movement of his throat as he accepted the chocolate.  As he swallowed the next one, it traced down his neck, across his chest and collarbone, and came to a rest back with the other hands on his belly, sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine, before rising back up and stroking his neck as he gulped down each subsequent one.  The familiar feeling of fullness began to sink in as his stomach felt heavy and he felt his shirt become more snug.  The hands' gentle kneading felt wonderful again his tightening flesh, especially with how cool they were against the growing heat radiating from within him.  His legs curled further in as he rolled sideways, giving himself more room for his middle to expand without discomfort.  

And then something odd happened.  He watched one of the hands liquify in the air, first appearing as a shapeless blob of light before forming into a slithering stream.  It too nudged against his mouth, beckoning to him to take it in.  He hungrily accepted it, swallowing the thick spectral liquid in a several gulps.  It was heavier than he had expected, the same weight the hands' touch had had, except inside him now.  And the presence seemed to expand inside inside him, puffing out and making him feel so full, but so comfortable.  Just as curiously, he thought he felt the light pressure inside turn to the same kneading and rubbing as he felt outside.  And it was wonderful with how much more sensitive he was inside.  He sighed as they ran their fingers over the little bumps where his stays attached and continued to gently press outwards.  

He turned his head to thank the hand by his face,  that had seemed to the leader of the swarm, and opened his mouth to speak, only to have a soft burp come out instead.  He gaped for a bit afterwards after mouthing a quick apology, unable to cover his mouth with how heavy his arms felt from the few hands still laying on them.  But it fluttered down and playfully patted his belly instead, wiggling its fingers in delight after he belched again.  Obviously it liked that.  He thought it was rather embarrassing and felt his face go red.  Still recovering from that, he whispered his thanks a bit more quietly, to which the hand patted him again in acceptance.  

The stroking and squirming and weight inside was odd sort of fullness that made it a bit difficult for him to fully settle down, but he readjusted himself again and let his eyelids sink, knowing there wasn't much to do except sleep this off, whatever they had fed him. The lead hand seemed to understand, touching each of his eyes fully shut and petting his hair one last time before rising up and flying away, the other hands rematerializing behind it and following it in a flock.  The pressure and wiggling inside dissipated as they left, leaving behind a more familiar static weight inside him.  His breathing had slowed considerably.  The odd experience had certainly taken his mind of things for at least a bit.  Maybe they would turn themselves around.  Maybe they wouldn't.  But at least for now, he was comfortable.  

[peeppeephellofatface]

There it is. The fic where Mal dies.  Not “canon” so to say, just sort of a what-if scenario I kept thinking about.  Primarily inspired by  seeing someone describing a static loco as being in “dead storage”, but also by how it was when my mom’s dog passed last year and how I felt leaving Universal after riding Dragon Challenge for the last time before those two coasters close next month. 

Obviously, it’s about death and dying and pretty descriptive about that part, so it’ll probably be upsetting to many, if not most people.  Only other warning is a very brief mention of a character getting sick.. 

It wasn't as if they'd forgotten him.  He was practically immortalized in the record books and likely wouldn't fall completely into obscurity unless human society was obliterated or progressed so much that steam power was simply a blip in the larger scope of human history.

Something was definitely.... wrong with Mallard.

Something was certainly happening to him.  Those that knew him in his prime  may have been saddened to see what preservation had done to him.  But anyone who had seen him even once before would have been horrified to see what was he was going through now.

It started with him seeming... off.  It didn't strike them at first. Most assumed he was just slipping into a funk as he often did.  Something usually came around to improve his mood in those cases.  then months passed and he didn't seem to snap out of it.  In fact, it seemed to only get worse.

As he had remained static for longer and longer, he had gradually lost his physical strength and energy.  People were well aware of that.  After several decades of it, he behaved how many older museum pieces eventually did- he became lethargic and largely inactive, spending more time as a face on his engine and not moving around as much when he did come out in his humanoid form.  He might have been sleeping more, but they weren't entirely sure since he'd also had trouble falling asleep at night even in service and tended to nap more than most.  

But more recently, he seemed almost lifeless.  Often he'd sleep through the entire day, losing track of time in the progress.  In the earlier stages he was irritated by it and complained that he wanted an alarm or some sort of reminder to keep him from wasting the days away.  However, as time passed, his usual complains and sharp tongue began to fade  away. It started small-he wasn't as snippy as usual to those who slighted him, just groaned a bit.  But it only got worse.  It was a matter of time before his responses to most irritations became apathetic at best.  Soon he didn't even seem to pay attention to people when they spoke to him. He often didn't look at people when talking to them in the past, feeling uncomfortably confrontational with eye contact, but now he didn't even seem to just stare at walls.  He just looked zoned out and unfocused, gazing mindlessly.  When he did respond, he seemed confused and muddled and exhausted just by opening his mouth.

Perhaps the one who witnessed his decline most directly was Duke. Once their visits mostly consisted of talking and arguing, cuddling, and sharing meals.  But as Mal began going downhill, whenever he tried to spark a conversation, the most he would get was one of his half-lidded stares and perhaps a nod or shake or a groan, or if he was particularly lucky, a one-word reply. Most of the time he just carried him to the backroom and let him sit or lie on him lap and stroked his head silently.

His appetite had always been poor in preservation, as he didn't get hungry as often in his inactive state. But when offered some popcorn or cake or even his favorite bread, he would have a bite or two at most.  Unbeknownst to him, he sometimes had trouble keeping it down.  Eventually he became uninterested in eating anything.  Duke knew it was common for Mal to hide his hunger out of shame, but he didn't seem to even deny it when pressed, just halfheartedly shake his head.  

Perhaps the most saddening thing he witnessed was his lack of resistance when he felt his belly.  Partly how clammy he had become, partly because he had once hated being touched there and had previously been no stranger to squirming away or slapping at curious hands.  He wasn't sure whether him being that way because he had stopped caring about anything or wasn't mentally aware enough to care was more upsetting.

Duke was also the last one to see him out and about.  It had been another one of those silent meetings.  He had to carry him away from his engine because all he was capable or willing to do at that point was lay on the floor of his cab, scrunched up in a rather uncomfortable position.  Duke panicked from not knowing where he had gone when the face vanished prior to him materializing, until he looked all over and under the engine for him.  All he did upon seeing him was nod weakly.  As he lifted him up and cradled him in his arms, he was astounded and concerned by how limp he was.  He had to prop his head upright since it otherwise would flop over his arm.  

Once in the backroom, he had to maneuver him into position and see if he nodded in acceptance.  On that last meeting, he laid his head on Duke's shoulder and weakly hugged his torso, his legs tucked in loosely.  He was wordless, but squeezed lightly, seemingly attracted by his body heat.  They lay like that for several hours.  As Mal's condition had worsened, their meetings had grown longer and longer, since both knew... it was coming near and wanted to be with each other as much as they could before it came.  

He would leave him with the phantom feeling of soft thighs against his lap, with the sickening notion that he would never feel the real thing again.  It wasn't so much knowing what was going to happen that horrified him, but the constant feeling that his interactions with him at this point were numbered and would soon live on only as memories.  

In a matter of time, it became a rarity for him to even appear as a face, and when he did he was usually sleeping.  Perhaps it was too exhausting to keep up, perhaps he was inwardly embarrassed to appear that way to visitors and disappoint them, perhaps he had simply lost interest in even interacting with others as he had food.  Or perhaps he had reached the point where he was so delirious and numb that he couldn't manage it anymore.  

On the rare occasion that he was awake, staff and other engines often would stroke his cheek.  Usually he hated physical attention from strangers like them, but he seemed to somehow enjoy, or at least tolerate, the feeling and comfort of it now.  It was bittersweet for Flying Scotsman, who relished the fact that his cousin finally accepted his attempts at interaction, but was disturbed at the same time by how dull and lifeless his eyes were, how blank his face seemed to be all the time, and most of all, the persistent coldness.  

Nobody knew exactly when he went.  Once his appearances became weekly at best, they could never know which one would  actually be his last.  They treated each moment and meeting as if it was, and were pleasantly surprised when he appeared again.  It was believed that Duke and Flying Scotsman had been the last ones to see him alive, though.  They were rubbing his buffers and claimed to have seen him give them a vacant smile in a  brief moment of consciousness before slipping off to sleep and soon disappearing again.  

But eventually months passed without another encounter.  Some remained optimistic, as it could be difficult to tell when an engine in faceless state is actually absent or just hiding.  But those who knew him could feel that the presence he once had, even when hiding, was gone at that point.  His metal husk remained, but it was clear his spirit did not.

What killed Mallard?  It wasn't total obscurity.  Plenty of people saw him every day and knew his name.  As much as he would often push them away, he did have close relationships with other engines.  But what was forgotten was the time when he was in motion.  The idea of hearing the breath of his exhaust and call of his whistle blowing from his own steam as he ran down the tracks had virtually vanished from everyone's mind, including his own.  With his soul tied to the state of his metal body, his physical form as a humanoid or face was directly affected by the condition and perception of the engine.  The more people perceived him as a dead piece of stagnant metal, the more his life began to fade away until he eventually became exactly that.  

But perhaps he wasn't entirely dead, but rather dormant.  A Sleeping Beauty clad in black and garter blue.  Perhaps someday he would run again and hope would return him to life.  

[peeppeephellofatface]

Had a surprise movie night and didn’t post this before the internet went off :/

Here you go.

Backstory isn’t really explained, you go ahead and fill in the blanks, but a Big Boy named Ashley has some fun feeding FS and gets kind of mean at times.  I haven’t really done much of this sort of stuff before so it’s probably a bit awkward lol   I also feel like I’ve been getting rusty since I haven’t been doing much writing lately. 

Features the usual stuff but with more teasing and sort of some force-feeding? 

Ashley was snuggling with FS on a couch in one of the rooms somewhere beyond the sheds.  It creaked a bit under their combined weight, but neither seemed to notice.  While she was a bit chilly, as her engine form was under overhaul and obviously had not been in steam for a while, he found her presence comforting.  She was larger than him and had an imposing presence, being a Big Boy after all (despite her feminine name and appearance), but had a small, gentle face and a soft chest.  

She grasped him lightly around the waist and tugged him onto her lap, hugging his middle as she adjusted herself beneath him.

"You British engines are so cute, you know?  Such smooth lines, so nicely proportioned, not messes of tubes painted the same old black and grey like us...  It's just as lovely in this form as well."

He felt her squeeze loosen and glanced down at her hands, puzzled, as one slid around and patted at his flank.

"Mmm, such powerful thighs.  Well-padded too."

He felt himself blush at the comment and go a bit limp in her arms as she cupped his chin in one hand and kissed his soft cheek.

"You're such a cute little fatface"

She gave him a brief nuzzle before continuing.  

"Gosh, you're so soft all over, you tubby babe."

She pulled him tighter against her and squished the fat of the upper part of his left arm, migrating to his chest and toying with it as well before the wandering hand met the one wrapped around his waist.  Wordlessly, she slid one up his shirt and grabbed his belly, making him squeak with surprise.  Her other hand tugged his shirt up a bit and she purred in his ear.

"Mmm, nice and plump."

She rubbed and kneaded his middle, feeling him falling limp against her.  Indulging him, she grew firmer in her squeezing and rubbing as he squirmed in pleasure at her touch.  He was soft and doughy around the middle, his thick muscles mostly hidden by his plush figure.  Thinking she felt a soft gurgle from deep within, she giggled.  

"Imagine how much nicer this sweet tummy would be overstuffed and groaning.  All bloated and sore from all the goodies inside and struggling to deal with it all.  So swollen and heavy and warm you'll need to sleep off all that food before you even think about walking.  "

He slowly nodded in agreeent, flopped his head back on her shoulder, and scooted against her, letting her rub his sides some more before she wiggled out from under him to get him some food.

Several minutes later she was back to cuddling him from behind, a carton of ice cream on his lap.  She gave his belly another squeeze and nudged a  spoonful to his lips.  He took it rather slowly, savoring it for a bit as he usually did with first bites.  It was some monstrosity with bits of cookies and fudge and such mixed into a chocolate base, she hadn't bothered to check what flavor it was but he had picked it out a while ago and clearly enjoyed it.  She tugged the spoon from his mouth after he'd sat there for a good minute or so sucking on it, getting a bit impatient, and brought him more.  His pace began to pick up, as did her own.  Her free hand lavished him with rubs of encouragement as his middle began to swell, growing warmer and tighter and rounding out a bit.  He made short work of it and soon she scraped the remainders off walls of the carton, letting him lick the remnants off her fingers, his breath hot and moist against her hand.  

"Well, that definitely wasn't enough for you, was it?  You're still soft and breathing too easily to be full, and at the rate you were going, you must still be hungry."

He gave her another dreamy nod and she slid a frosted brownie into his mouth.  Thick, rich, and dense, though a bit damp as it had been sitting there defrosting from the freezer.  A stark contrast to the heat that radiated off his growing belly as she nudged one after another to his lips, hardly giving him enough time to swallow, leaving him gasping for air a bit at times.  She wasn't even sure how many he was downing, as she'd lost count a while ago and just started to look at the number of empy pans.  It seemed better to overestimate how many he'd devour, as she'd underestimated the appetites of other hand-fired engines before.  He shook his head a bit after a while, groaning in pain and weakly nudging her hand away.

"Aw, is that really all you can do?  I doubt it.  I think you're just a bit bloated.  Maybe you'll change you mind if you get that air out."

She placed the brownie down and turned her attention to his swollen belly, firmly feeling and rubbing it to coax him into burping.  His head drooped to the side, groaning in discomfort as she worked over such a sensitive spot, but he relaxed a bit after softly belching into her shoulder, his breath hot and thick with smoke.  She stroked his lower belly, which was tight against his pants and sore from straining against them, as she loosened them, letting it bulge out onto his lap.  

"That should be better.  Let's get you some more to eat."

He was getting sluggish, but she managed to get through another tray of brownies.  He struggled as she started on the next one, whimpering with each swallow at how overstuffed he was getting.  She paused again as she noticed, and rubbed him some more to get him to burp again.  But she remained persistent, pushing the next brownie into his mouth when he would barely open his lips, trying to fill the space burping had freed up. The pace grew agonizingly slow as she had to virtually force the last few brownies down.

"That's... enough."

His voice was soft, weak and shaky, the pain making breathing difficult.

"You sure have a good appetite for an engine your size."

She traced a finger along his distended belly, nudging it into the layer of fat to feel how tight it was underneath.  He bit his lip and cried a bit from the pain.  

She guided him off her lap and onto the couch cushions so she could get on top of him and better access his middle, pulling his shirt all the way up to bare its swollen form.  Seemingly about to rub it to soothe the pain, she instead dropped her hands and began trailing kisses down it, lightly bringing her lips to his tender flesh.  He cried in pleasure and pain as she made her way down, yearning for her to rub it to soothe the sharp pain from his massive overeating.  Even then, all she did was tickle him by very lightly stroking his sensitive sides with her fingertips, smirking a bit at his pain.  His expressions and desperation were adorable.

 But she did feel a bit bad being this mean to him.  

"It's okay.  I'll stay here to rub it if you want me to.  As long as you need me to.  I really don't have anywhere to be anyways.  That was fun."

He weakly nodded in agreement, pushing his belly forward a bit to encourage her.  She gave him a gentler smile and began to draw large, soothing, circles into it, edging closer to feel the heat coming off of it.  After all, in the state she was in, she was prone to getting cold.  As she came closer, he flopped an arm over her back, weakly tugging her against his form.  She accepted,  rolling over to her side to curl up beside him to avoid putting any pressure on his sore stomach, resting her head against his soft chest, feeling it rise and fall as he breathed and hearing the occasional gurgle as he struggled with all those brownies.  Her hand felt around his bloated belly, rubbing its rounded form in admiration with increasingly slow, gentle strokes as her eyelids began to sag.  She nuzzled into his shoulder, lightly kissing the soft underside of his arm before her eyes completely shut, dozing off with her arm draped across him.  

Only to be interrupted by a shudder of a burp.  She patted his middle and he flushed a bit as he did it again.  

"Aw, it's so cute when you do that.  You're so cute when you overeat in general, really.  Seeing that fat tummy nice and round and poking out from under your shirt.  How warm and nice you feel.  And seeing how embarrassed you are by the gurgling and burping you get after it all and caring for you until your system calms down.  

He smiled weakly, still wincing a bit from a wave of cramps, before lowering his head again and pressing it against the armrest of the couch.  She gave his belly one last kiss before settling back to sleep.  

[peeppeephellofatface]

Okay, short fic about the stuff I was mentioned earlier today.

For those of you who didn’ t see the posts, stuffed, burpy Duke gets spanked by Mal for being disrespectful (and eating his bread lol).  Also featuring some extravagant descriptions of the Duke’s beautiful booty, teasing and whimpering, and Mal playing with the Duke’s feet a bit at the end because sucking on and playing with toes is so cute to me. 

And yeah, it’s all consensual and they talked it over beforehand, it just isn’t shown.  No hard feelings between the two.  They feel kind of ooc here but oh well. Writing this was really fun though ;P

This is my first time writing anything like this so some stuff might not be realistic or otherwise kind of off, I haven’t really read many fics about this stuff before since the characters in them tend not to be my type and I can be very picky. 

The Duke burped and groaned, falling back against the cushions as he tried to get comfortable.  

"Ugh, Mallard, it hurts so much."

He rubbed his bloated stomach, giving him a pleading glance.  He shot a cold one back at him.

"Serves you right for eating all that."

"But I was so hungry..."

"Psht, you're one of the most efficient engines in the country!  You don't need to eat that much like that pig Scotsman."

"I-I don't know what's wrong with me.   Maybe I'm slipping back into my old ways or something..."

Mallard sighed in exasperation and crawled over him, tugging his shirt up and taking a squeeze at his hot, bulging middle.

"What on earth did you get into? I didn't think we even had much food laying around."

"I cleaned out the fridge... and the freezer.  Had whatever we had lying around- some leftover brownies and cake and a loaf of frozen brea-"

"You took MY BREAD?"

"I-It was all there was left!"

"Why didn't you fucking ask permission?"

He slapped at the side of his belly, forcing a yelp out of him.  The Duke sat for a second looking a him but avoiding eye contact, face flushed  in embarassment and trying to cover his mouth.

"Such a greedy little en-"

He interrupted him mid-sentence by with a deep, pent-up belch and accompanying gurgle.  

"And so vulgar too.  Say 'excuse me'"

"E-Excuse me...UUURP"

He tried to hide his face with his hands as it got redder with shame.

"Oh, dear me, I'm so sorry about that, Mal."

Mallard glared at him and tugged his limp form onto his lap, muttering into his ear.

"It's Mallard."

"S-Sorry Mallard."

"You know what you do to rude engines like you?"

He grabbed him again, pulling him across his knees, glaring at him as his eyes grew wide in terror as he knew what was coming next.

"God, quit crying you coward, I haven't even touched you yet."

The pressure against his belly was agonizing.  He felt a another sickening gurgle and let out a deep burp into Mallard's face.  He hissed at him and swatted his rear before tugging his pants down, exposing his backside.  It was a wonderful sight.  Well-muscled, yet full and plump.  A nicely rounded rump that had been filling out his pants a bit too well lately, that had a nice jiggle when smacked but reassuring power behind it.  Preservation had been kind to the Duke's figure.  

He whispered in his ear.

"Don't we all known that disrespectful, vulgar, gluttonous engines like you get punished?"

Th Duke  gave him a weak nod, teeth and eyelids clenched in anticipation as he felt the first slap, tightening up more as he felt the sting.  

"Ugh, Mallard, harder, please!"

He yelled as he hit him again.

"That wasn't any harder."

"Shut up, you little twit!"

This time was enough to make him flinch, making Mallard give him another good spank.

"Ugh, Mallard, it hurts.."

"It had better."

Smack.

The Duke sniffled, trying to find some comfort while both his belly and backside were throbbing in pain.  Something about the inescapability of it was so.. pleasurable to him.  He sighed.

"Does my bum feel nice?"

Mallard paused for a moment, a bit confused, but snapped back into it and gave him a sharp glare as he groped his rear and spanked it again.

"Fat little thing you are, Duke.  Perhaps your behavior earlier has something to do with it?  I bet all that extra cake has been going to your tender little behind. I'm sure you'll appreciate the extra padding when Im done with you."

Smack.

The Duke squirmed and fumbled with one of the pillows that had fallen on the floor, squeezing his fingers into it as he took several more hits.  

"Was that bread worth this pain?"

His eyes were getting wet and his voice was unsteady.

"N-No, Mallard."

"Don't you ever touch it again."

He gave him a last firm smack and came to a stop, posture relaxing.  

"Good job, babe, how was that?"

The Duke slowly edged himself off his lap and pulled his pants back up, wincing a bit from the pain.

"Wonderful.  Though you could have gone a little harder."

"I'm not that strong in this state, err, sorry...  But could you stay in that position for a bit?"

He paused, letting Mal look at his reddened rump.  

"Mmm, that's damn nice.  It's kind of cute when it looks like this.  Almost like it's also blushing."

The Duke resumed messing with his pants, getting them as far up as he could with his bloated middle pushing them down, and flopped down next to Mallard  

He handed him a bag of frozen peas, drawing a puzzled look.

"Look, I love frozen peas.. don't even ask.   And I had a bunch of them around for some reason and didn't have an ice pack.  Hopefully that should help with the soreness a bit."

The Duke laughed, snuggling up around a pillow as he iced his butt. Mallard spoke up again.

"Say, there's something else I've kind of liked to try on you..."

"Oh, what is it?"

He nudged his legs so he was in the fetal position, batting at his feet so they curled up before grabbing the little toe of his left foot and flopping it around a bit, giggling to himself.  He crawled closer to it and nuzzled its arch, making the Duke squirm from the tickling and sending shocks of pleasure through both of them.  

"Ahahha, yess.  Please, more, Mal!"

He lapped at the soft, somewhat sensitive skin there as he squirmed and laughed some more, kneading his other foot with his free hands.   His mouth trailed upwards and he took a few toes in his mouth, running his hot tongue over them, sucking on them, and smiling as he giggled and squirmed more and more, continuing to rub the other foot.  One by one he slowly released them, and the two relaxed again.

"You sure enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"Oh, yeeah!"

"We can do that some more another time, but I'm getting tired."

"Me too.  Food comas and such, you know."

"Yes."

Mallard wormed his way in front of him again and lightly pressed his arms to his soft chest as they both settled off to sleep.  

[peeppeephellofatface]

Oh dear.  Oh dear.  OH FUCKING DEAR.

This is seriously not my usual shit. This is a cracky as hell fic.  It started as a parody of this hilariously bad fic some buds were doing a dramatic reading of (message me if you want me to link you to the original) and it kept... mutating into whatever the hell this thing is.

Also,  I actually wrote smut.  Though since it’s a parody, I basically adapted the wording of the original so lmao not doing this shit again.

Flying Scotsman means a smexy girl names Ashley in a field after coming to return her lost earring and fun shit ensues. MASSIVE MAN MAMMARIES.  NSFL AS FUCK

There’s some joking about stuff like animal testing and cannibalism and sorta dark humor in general.  And again, NSFW AS FUCK

Also long, like, 3700 words.

Try not to spread this around too much since I don’t want to be too well-known for shit like this. 

Flying Scotsman found Ashley about a mile down the fields and bushy places.  She left an earring in his bathroom and he wanted to make sure she got it back, being the kind engine he was. He brushed aside some bushes and there she was, lying down on her back in the grass, right next to the Easter egg nobody found back in April, ants crawling all over her because she had happened to have plopped herself down in an anthill. Why they didn’t go for the abandoned candy, he didn’t know.  Her shirt lay open, revealing her ant-bitten, but very attractive torso and some HUUUGE NAKED TITTIES.  He gave an awkward smile and tried not to stare because he didn’t know her and didn’t want to look like a pervert.  But then he stubbed his toe as he stepped towards her.  “Agh, that hurt” he hissed in pain.  “At last, I have found you, I have your earring here”, he whispered, a little more quietly.

Ashley was in light sleep and having a nightmare about wearing a sandpaper dress.  She was whimpering a lot, and when she heard footsteps, she woke up, hoping the stranger would be able to help her get the damn thing off.  When she saw this large, intimidating man coming towards her, her eyes widening in fright,  she gasped.  But not because of him, but because of all the ants crawling on her.

The army crawled over her, looming like a demonic shadow, looking down on her with a million bajillion wicked smiles, ready to leave her red and lumpy as a Muscovy duck’s face for daring to disturb their hill. 

Ashley’s face filled with terror at the ants.  Was it half-empty or half-full?  “Flying Scotsman!” she gasped in relief.  “Oh!” she shrieked in fright, squirming as the itching set in, her JIGGLY WIGGLY BOOBIES knocking many of them away as they shook at 8960 flops per second in true anime titty fashion.  How in the world did he become human?  How did so many ants come out of one little hole?  She began panting with fright.  “GET THEM OFF ME!!”, she begged, beginning to cry and sob.  He was sobbing from the earsplitting high-pitched shockwave from the WOBBLING BOSOMS.

Flying Scotsman eyed her breasts as they jiggled, noticing the unnatural bounciness of them.  It was creepy and rude, but it was such a bizarre phenomenon to observe that he couldn’t stop himself.   Slowly and carefully, trying not to draw the ants towards himself, he sat down next to her, his face hovering over her.  It was floating a good six inches away from the rest of his head, freakish and disembodied.  That was another one of his strange powers, along with turning human..

Ashley squeaked and sobbed, her hands instinctly moving to cover her bodacious bosom the best she could.  Which was quiet well.  Her hands were fucking HUGE.  “Please don’t try to kill me like… that other man.  And put your face back where it belongs, that’s just fucking creepy.”

He blushed a bit in shame for staring.  How rude of him.  He stared at her armpit instead.  “What other man?”

  Ashley squeaked as her puny physical form vanished, before reforming as something much bigger.  She morphed into a much larger human, towering above Flying Scotsman.  She donned combat boots, trousers, and a coat that lay open, showing off her bare torso and still HUGE HONKIN’ HOOTERS.  She was muscular, but also bulky and fat and intimidating.  Her coat was all black except for the collar, which was silver, and a patch that said 4014.  Her hair was very long, pitch-black, and had a bit of a wave to it. She sure had a lot of hair.  There was a little collar with a bell on it around her neck.

Ashley was a UP Big Boy, who had also taken human form.  Only this was her true form.  The other was just a decoy to attract men, who usually ran away screaming when they saw how she really looked.  Seriously, could you imagine several hundred tons of steel meant to haul mile-long trains not being some massive mountain of beef?  That would be ridiculous.   She was kind of sad that everyone tended to be so scared of her, though.

 “Mmmm” she growled.   She looked down at HIS MASSIVE MOOBIES bouncing and jiggling from his sudden glance upwards at her MUCH taller form, whining at a much higher frequency than hers had been.  It made her wish she was a snake and more sensitive to lower-pitch vibrations, so she gave a venomous smile to try to see if she could turn into that, since she was able to turn into two different humans.  Remember kids, something’s only poisonous if you lick or eat it, and this isn’t a story about cannibalism.  It’s about really big titties.

“So about that other man?”

“There was an exterminator I wanted to touch and have sex with me, but he also wanted to kill me because he wanted to do it in the house after spraying it.  He had an insecticide fetish.   I WANT TO TOUCH YOU AND HAVE SEX WITH YOU TOO!”

“Whoa, easy, I just came to return the earring.  But sure, I guess.  You’re pretty hot like this. 

Her bigass yaoi hands came down and grabbed his equally TITANIC MAN TATAS through his shirt. 

Flying Scotsman let out a gasp and a squeal.  “Oh! Ashley!” He began panting.  It was hot outside. He felt the chocolate bar in his back pocket melting.  “Could you talk in a ridiculous evil villain voice?  I love evil voices, they’re so smexy!”

Ashley grinned and cackled.  “Oooh yes, baby.  But only if you do your best door hinge impressions for me.  Mmm gotta love the squeaks and groans and shiny brass of those things. Hot as hell.  ” She gave his BEEFY BARA BREASTS a rough squeeze.  “Oh my!” She smiled in wicked delight, squeezing his BIGASS BAZUNGAS over and over. “Mmm… I knew you were the right one for me.  I’ll oil your hinges right up, baby.”

Flying Scotsman squeaked like his whistle, or rather, like a elementary schooler playing a recorder for the first time, as she gave her first rough squeeze.  “Oh!” he squeaked out.  His hands touched her hands.  “Oh Ashley!” He began panting heavily, his pitiful eyes drifting closed in lusty bliss but also because the sun was really bright. Should have brought some sunglasses.  Who knew this would happen all because of earrings?

Ashley cackled.  “Oh, your MIGHTY MAN MELONS are sooo soft. Softer than I ever though they would be!  And so squishy. So warm.  Like a loaf of fresh-baked bread.  Mmmm.  But I’m not a cannibal either.”  She winked at the narrator. 

“Mmm, I’m craving a nice sandwich right how.” She kept squeezing them roughly.  “And I love their huge size.  Though they can’t compete with mine.  That’s what you get when you have that big ol’ air compressor.  But yours are softer.” She smiled wicked.  “What a smexy body you have, baby.”

Flying Scotsman stared at her with his pitiful wide eyes, squeaking continuously and panting.  Goddamn, his jacket was hot. “Oh my!” He squeaked. “Ashley!  Everyone knows you’re going into the bathroom to take a shit!”

Then Flying Scotsman saw an ambiguous person, no, being, in the distance that seemed to be heading their direction.  He gasped. “Ashley!” he whimpered.  “It’s that guy who always comes to visit me a feed me cake and get up to kinky shenanigans in backrooms at the museum!  Let’s have a threesome!””

Ashley looked back and growled.  “No.  That’s too many limbs and confusion.  And a pain in the ass for the author to write.  You’re all mine, my smexy door hinge. MUAHAHAHA” she vowed.

“Aw, man.  But okay.”

He whimpered and began to cling to her shoulders.  Ashley picked him up and carried him to some tall bushes where it was cooler, pulling open his jacket to touch his BIG OL’ CHESTICLES with her hand.  Ashley lay him down in the bushes and then lay down with him.  He squeaked and immediately cuddled to her chest for protection.  Her boobs were kinda soft and nice in a nonsexual way.  Just nice pillows.

Ashley smirked and placed her hand on his back, stroking his head and running her huge finger through his beautiful black hair. 

He squeaked and nuzzled her chest, closing his eyes.  He was still trembling in shock of her sudden transformation, but her strokes and holding him helped her somewhat.

“What’s your name, baby?”

“Flying Scotsman,” he whimpered

Ashley smiled wickledly.  “Mmm.  Flying Scotsman.  Cute name for you.” she purred.  Ashley was a bit of a furry, as evidenced by the collar. 

She chuckled evilly and smirked.  “No one will have you but me.  Because I WILL RULE THE WORLD!” she hissed, channeling her inner cat again.  “You’re mine.  World is mine.”  She tried to lick her own butt, but couldn’t quite bend that far. She compromised by licking his back instead.

He stared at her with gratitude in his eyes and squeaked for her.  Knowing how much she liked his MAMMOTH MOOBIES and remembering the amount of bliss he had been in when she touched them, he moved up and pressed his BODACIOUS (MAN)BREASTS lightly against her face.  His MALLEABLE MANMAMMARIES gently caressed against her exaggeratedly wicked face, and his perky nipnops pressed against her lips.  He was suddenly reminded of all the sad things in the world.  How easily death could fall upon him.  How he was a shadow of his former self.  How he was going to be stuck with those stupid smoke deflectors for all eternity for the sake of efficiency.  Curse his high coal consumption.  He was always this way when people touched his nipples.  He really didn’t get why it was supposed to be sexy.  It just made him want to cry and have some ice cream to cheer himself up.

“MMMMM!” Ashley growled in wicked delight, pretending to wag her tail.  She couldn’t decide if she preferred pretending to be a cat or dog, so she commonly flipped between the two.  “Oh baby.” Smiling wickedly, she began pressing kisses all over his huge MUSHY MOOBIES and nipples.  Goddammit, not the nipples again.  He remembered that all his siblings were dead, aside from a fictional engine known as Gordon. 

Getting upset, he clung to her head for comfort.

Ashley gave some quiet wicked keks.  “Mmm.   baby” She smiled in wicked pleasure and continued to kiss his TITANIC TORPEDOES all over,.  She squeezed them together and kissed into his cleavage, from up to down   And when she was up she was up.  And when she was down, she was down.  But when she was only halfway up, she was neither up or down.  Just like the grand old Duke of York. Then her kisses traveled over to the bottoms of his BIG BAZOOKAS before directly going up to kiss the tops of his FABULOUS FLOPPERS.  She trailed kisses all over the thick round plump plush malleable doughy delicious supercalifragilisticexpialidocious  softness of his SMEXY MAN TITS.  “Mmmm,” she moaned deeply and sexually.  “So soft.”  Then she began to pay special attention to his nipples, kissing all around them before kissing the nipples many times.  “MMM.”  Her voice just made his sadder, remembering how his whistle was so squeaky and terrible, especially for an engine of his size.  He deserved a deep, more manly whistle like those damn Yanks got.  Nobody took him seriously when he went around squeaking at stations.  At least Ashley’s door hinge kink made him feel a little better about his squeakiness.  One person out there appreciated it.

His eyes were closed in overwhelming lustful bliss and sorrow.  He let out many squeaks and cries, from the kisses, door hinge impression, and from all the regrets in life that were coming to him.  “Ah! Heavy hearted am I, Tuoni has taken my son!” Her kisses were so soft, but even the gentle touch was enough to make him sadder and sadder.  He thought about every remotely sad song he’d ever heard. It sent shivers up his spine.  He wished she was squishing his sides instead, which were much more sensitive.  But he appreciated her effort in how she tried in vain to ravish them with her kisses, her wonderful, gentle, kisses.  “Oh!” he squeaked.  “Ashley!  Please stop that, I appreciate the effort but… I get so sad when you do that and I don’t know why!” He brushed his fingers through her extremely fluffy but somewhat rough hair, getting his hands hopelessly entangle and panting loudly and heavily as he considered all the baby bunnies that probably had to suffer during the development of her favorite conditioner. He gasped as he thought about all the other cute little animals that surely suffered for the soap he used as she kissed his nipples, squeaking softly and panting for the who the heell knows what time, his hands becoming even more entangled.  “Ah, Ashley, consider the animals!”

Ashley purred and glanced up at him, smiling slyly in wicked happiness.  This smile didn’t appear quite as evil as the previous ones with time.  “Mmmm.  I’ll stop, then.”  She continued to press kisses on the other parts of his POSITIVELY ENORMOUS PERKIES softly but greedily as she spoke, making what she said a muffled mess.  All he could hear was “Mmm, babymmmph hurmph is it that your manmpboobs are so bigf?”

Flying Scotsman squealed.  Actually, no, he bust out in laughter.  He stared at her with his soft sweet wide innocent pure cinnamon roll kawaii desu eyes, laughing at the unexpected question.  He was breathless from hysteria.  “I’ve also had quite BODACIOUS BARA BOOBIES ever since I was an older teenager.  Which is to say, a middle-aged man in engine years.  They were much smaller than now, though.  One day in the mid-2000s, a buddy of mine bet me 10,000 pounds if I got breast implants, so I went to doctor to get them bigger because damn it, I needed the money for my real metal body’s restoration and having balloon tits seemed like small price to pay to not be holed up in a workshop forever and ever and ever. 

Ashley listened down at him with her typically wicked expression on her face.  She smiled down at his man breasts wickedly and began to squeeze them again.  “I’m glad you made them bigger, baby.  They do make you very sexy and tempting.  I love big boobies and I cannot lie.  I go nuts over them.  But not as nuts as I go for Quest protein bars.  Damn, those things are delicious.  Damn shame they’re over $2 a pop. But your TERRIFIC TATAS are free, so who cares.”

He squeaked a lot and let out many whimpers.  Thinking about Quest bars made him feel great happiness.  Those things were truly delicious.  Reaching out, she touched his face, feeling his wicked- scratch that, soft and   gentle, features with her bigass fingers.  She touched his face all over, his chubby cutesy cheeks, his forehead, the flat spot on his nose, his HUMUNGOUS HUBUNGOUS EYEBROWS , and his manly sinister cleft chin.  Just kidding, his chubby baby chin.  Like every other A3, he was a true fatface.  She squeezed his chin as hard as she had his HUMONGOUS HONKERS, which he kinda liked.  At least he didn’t have thoughts of all the dinosaurs that died so he could eat.

Ashley smiled in wicked pleasure and purred yet again.  This was just getting repetitive and Flying Scotsman had had enough.  “Okay, this is nice and all, when are we going to actually fuck?”

  Smiling wickedly at him, Ashley took off the rest of his clothes.  Then she whipped her pants off and felt herself EXPAND DONG.  She smiled proudly at her giant metal cock. 

“YARANAIKA?”

Flying Scotsman gasped.  “OH ASHLEY!”, he squeaked for real, touching her coat-covered shoulders.  “I’m shook.”

“Why are you frightened, baby?”  Ashley grinned at her bigass fucking “steam pipe”.  Damn, she was proud of the thing.

“I-I’ve never done this before.  And your uhhh…thing is the size of my leg.” He squeaked in legitimate fear.  “I’m a virgin, Ashley, please.”  He arched his LOVELY LUSCIOUS SCOOPS OF FLESH up to her.  “I’m so frightened.  How the hell is this going to work?  This is some real hot Skitty-on-Waillord action facing us.”

Ashley snickered.  They were trains in human form.  Why was he concerned about something as minor as this when something as implausible as human locomotive sex was about to transpire? 

Flying Scotsman stared up at her with his wide frightened eyes and squeaked.  “Please don’t hurt me,” he whimpered.  “Be gentle, this is going to be like taking a King class on a branch line”

Ashley cackled maniacally.  He was still hung up on this?  “But I want you real bad sweetheart, I want you real bad.”

Flying Scotsman squeaked.  “I want you too, just please be careful.  Seriously.” he whimpered.

Ashley’s smirk of amusement grew into a delighted grin.

“Will it hurt badly?” Flying Scotsman squeaked.  “I don’t want it to hurt.”

Ashley played with his man breasts in her hands.  “Mmm, yes, my little Scotty, it will hurt.  But if I’m slow and gentle with you, it’ll hurt a lot less.”

He whimped and touched her face.  “Lord have mercy, you better be gentle with that thing.”

Ashley smiled and purred deeply, pretending to be a cat again, nuzzling her face against his head.  His hair smelled nice.  Like shampoo that surely involved animal testing.  “Of course, I’ll be gentle, baby.”  Taking her hands off his BIG OL BAZUNGAS, she looked down and entered him carefully, slowly and gently as she would pull a freight car full of antique china and critically endangered cute fuzzy mammals.  Thank god her dick didn’t have spines like a cat’s.

Flying Scotsman looked very frightened.  At first, he was whimpering and squeaking.  Then the pain hit him, and he screamed and cried out pitifully, sobbing as tears came out.  He clung to her coat.  “Oh Ashley!” He cried.  “It hurts! Help!”

Ashley looked down at his bleeding. “There.  I swatted the mosquito on your arm.  Damn, that was a fat one, sorry I got blood everywhere.  And I hit you so hard.  If it helps to know, it’s my first time too, obviously.”  She took his BIG OL BOOBIES into her hands and gave them a squeeze.  Maybe the sadness of feeling his nipples touched would distract him.

Flying Scotsman sobbed and let out more recorder squeaks, thankful that the sad thoughts of dead dinosaurs were an excellent distraction, and hearing her tell him that it was her first time as well comforted him, perhaps because it sounded like she was trying to comfort him.  No shit.  “Oh, Ashley,” he whimpered. 

She smiled and began to move slowly, letting out some deep moans of pleasure.  She was an American engine after all, and didn’t have a voice like a squeaky chipmunk like Brits like him.  Flying Scotsman squeaked and let out little cries, as he could only feel pain for a while.  He clung to her coat and her hair, only getting more entangled, still whimpering.  Ashley smirked at his situation and helped distract him from the pain by feeling his nipples and giving him more sad but very distracting thoughts.  He let out squeaks of pleasure and buried his hands deeper into the endless pit of her hair.  She was like fucking Rapunzel or something.

Soon Ashley was going faster, growling as her climax built.  Flying Scotsman squeaked as his was building as well, letting out sweet, sexual, moans like a moe animu girl as the pain turned to pleasure.  When Ashley SQUARTED she yelled and roared out loudly like an a trainful of riders on an old school B&M coaster on a hot summer day in intense pleasure.  Flying Scotsman screamed when he came, as if he were on that coaster.  She grabbed her ears, the piercing sound utterly agonizing.  Some nearby windows shattered into a million pieces.  Fortunately nobody had seen the two engines bumping uglies out in the bushes, but they could certainly hear them now.

“HEY, THIS ISN’T A GODDAMN AVIARY, STOP SHRIEKING YOU INSUFFERABLE LOVE COCKATOOS!”

Panting heavily, Ashley pulled out of him and collapsed beside him.  “Wow,” she muttered breathlessly, “that was wonderful.”

She made like him and squeaked.  Then she looked at him and observed his body.  She ran her hand over his torso, feeling his LOVELY LOVE BAGS again, and his soft belly.  He squeaked at that bit.  Why didn’t she do that earlier?  He could have really gone for some belly tubs rather than MIGHTY MAN TITTY squeezing.  She moaned deeply and glanced at him and smiled darkly. 

Flying Scotsman whimpered and cuddled into her chest.  Ashley smirked down at him and wrapped her arm around him, giving his head the lightest pats she could with her giant fucking yaoi hands.  Flying Scotsman squeaked and nuzzled deeper into her MASSIVE MELONS.  “The most famous locomotive in the world just gave you his virginity.  Be proud of that.”

Ashley grinned victoriously.  “Fuck yeah, baby!”.  She gave his bare booty some spanks.

He squealed and nuzzled further deeper into the Mariana’s trench of her cleavage.  Never underestimate the size of Big Boy titties.

Ashley snickered and began rubbing his butt, feeling it all over. “And I love that I’ve taken your virginity, maybe someone will leak our sex tape and I’ll get my own reality show to fund my own restoration.  Call it Keeping up with the Choo-Choos.”

Flying Scotsman whimpered in pleasure when she rubbed his butt.  He loved that.  He loved people touching him anywhere but his nipples.  And even then, exceptions would be made when he was being fucked by a giant metal cock. When she roughly grabbed his butt, he jumped up and squealed, “Oh, Ashley! “

Goddammit, it’s late and I’m so fucking tired of writing about Ashley smirking evilly.  Let’s end this dribble.  Blah Blah Blah, Ashley touched the butt some more, and they fell asleep in the bushes and woke up later covered in bug bites and grass stains.  PLUMP BUTT 

[peeppeephellofatface]

Yeah, here you go.  Not as great as originally envisioned since ideas tend to lose their luster with me after a few days, but still pretty decent.

Scotty eats too many donuts and someone comes and needs someone to help rub his belly afterwards. 

Might add more tomorrow if I feel like it.  Kind of underwhelmed with this but eh , I’ve had trouble focusing on stuff this week and actually getting owed things done.

He didn't really have anything to do that day, and was determined to waste all of it just lounging around.  He slept in in his engine form until nearly 11, when he got out to go get some snacks and curl up on his favorite couch.  Resting in his usual form was fine and well, but he liked this one more for lounging around like this.  It was tough to really appreciate a soft blanket or plush, yet supportive pillow when he had such a poor sense of touch (and impractical size) as a loco.  

He swung the door open and turned to dig into his stash of snacks, only to notice something out of his eye.  Four boxes of donuts.  He stopped what he was doing  and peeked into the top box, revealing an array of shiny glazed cake donuts.  Why were they here?  Were they even for him?  He felt a little unsure about eating them, but the more he looked at them, the more tempted he was.  Usually he'd have cake or chocolate, and he'd only had donuts once or twice.  And they looked so enticing.  

He bit his lip, darting his eyes around before picking up three of the boxes and placing them on the coffee table beside the couch.  After adjusting himself and leaning back into a pile of pillows, he grabbed his first donut, a chocolate one.  He held it for a few moments, looking at it quizzically.  It felt dense and firm, and he could feel osme of the glaze sticking to his fingers.  Slowly, he nibbled a bit at it, just cracking the layer of glaze a bit and seeing how it tasted.  

It was wonderful.  Sweet, and just as dense as it had felt in his hands.  It melted in his mouth a little as he stopped to savor its taste.  But that was the only time he would do so, as he soon found himself devouring the rest of the donut before grabbing another.  He went through that one even more quickly, and took yet anohter.  And another.  And another. He barely even noticed the taste, just the satisfaction of swallowing it, of how rich and heavy they felt, of their bumpy texture in his mouth.   Just how wonderful it felt to eat more and more of them with no worries.  The last time he'd had donuts, he had no trouble having three boxes of them, no way would this be a problem.  Sure he'd be so full he wouldn't be going anywhere soon, which wasn't a problem since it would stop him from eating the last box, which he wanted to leave in case someone came back looking for their donuts, but it wouldn't be too uncomfortable.

He mindlessly made his way through the first two boxes, plowing on to the third one without a second thought.  It was only a matter of time before he was down to the last donut.  One with frosting a sprinkles.  He preferred the softer raised variety when it came to that sort of donut, since the fluffy texture contrasted more with the crunch of the sprinkles, but it was nonetheless delicious and soon he was scraping up any errant icing stuck to the boxes.  He went to lean back and take a nap, but paused when he heard a sickening gurgle.

He hadn't been paying any attention to his stomach the whole time, so preoccupied by how enjoyable the donuts were.  It wasn't until now that he felt the horrible cramps shoot through his middle, the tightness of his wasitline against his belly, the ever-present soreness that being so overstuffed was causing.  Suddenly, his good mood faltered as he realized the gravity of the situation.  He tried to reach a hand over his very distended middle to at least loosen his pants or rub at it to see if he could relieve a little pressure, but he was struggling to find the energy to do so and evne moving his arms sent a sharp pain up his side.  

There was no way to get out of this on his own.  All he could do was lie there sniffling and miserable, listening to its upset grumbling, unless someone managed to find him. He seethed and impulsively pulled his legs in, only to jerk them back out after he accidently nudged his belly with the top of his thigh, and settled to hug a pillow over his chest and bury his face into it whenever the pain got particularly bad.  

Fortunately for him, they were around, and came in there to retrieve the donuts.

"Well, I'm not going to bother asking what happened to the other three boxes, obviously."

They chuckled and walked up to him, reaching around the pillow to poke the layer of fat on his stomach.  The way that he yelped and squeezed the pillow tighter at their touch made them pull back, and tug at it a bit to see what was up with him.  It was... odd for him not to enjoy such things, considering that he usually loved people playing with his belly and teasing him like that.  

The corners of the fabric slipped from his fingers and the pillow was knocked off the couch.  He looked up at them, his face getting red with embarassment.   They were a bit stunned by bloated he was.  Had he ever gotten this big before?  

"I didn't think they were going to be so... filling."

His voice was strained and weak and he clearly was trying to avoid looking at them.  Even though he couldn't see it, they gave him a gentle smile and knelt down beside the couch.  He felt a bit of the pressure subside as they loosened his pants, but still wimpered in pain as they began to stroke the very sensitive flesh of his middle.  Usually it was something they enjoyed doing, but they hated seeing him in pain like this.  They didn't want to leave him like this, though, and surely getting him to burp would take at least a little of the strain away.  Eyes still shut tight and face turned away from them, his mouth hung open a bit as he struggled to let out some of the air trapped inside him.  They perked up each time they felt a rumble under their fingers, but each time it seemed to just be upset grumbles as he struggled with all the food.  As much as he loved sweet, fatty foods, his belly often didn't and they'd have to help comfort him through the aches and bloating that usually followed.  

Their thoughts were interrupted as they suddenly felt their hands sink a bit as he let out a deep belch, with a bit of a gurgle to it.  They felt his stomach rumble back beneath them.

"Does it feel any better?"

"Not as tight and tender, but the cramps are bad."

They sighed and pulled up a chair, knowing they were going to be here a while, but didn't want to make him move when it was clearly so uncomfortable for him.  

"I hope you didn't have anything to do today?"

"No, thankfully."

"Good, I don't know how long this is going to take to get through.  I have to say, I think this might be the most you've ever eaten, judging by how stuffed you look.  It hurts to see you in pain, but it's kind of cute to see that tummy bulging so much."

His face got a bit hot.  Despite how uncomfortable this was, being praised like that always got him.  They lightly patted his side, making him even more flustered even if it did hurt.  Sensing that he was enjoying this, they bent over him and tugged his shirt up further and starting trailing kisses up his warm skin, feeling him squirming and his stomach gurgling as they passed over the most tender places.  Their arms began to lightly hug the warm sides of his belly and trace circles into it, slowly and gracefully. About halfway up, they got him to belch again, and a slightly firmer pat was enough to bring up another one.  As they reached his chest, they lifted their head to gaze into his eyes, only to realize that he had dozed off.  No wonder given how tired he must have been after overindulging like that.  He was cute when he slept.  While he stirred on occaison as the cramps acted up, his face was soft and peaceful.  They took the moment to trace a finger along his rounded jawline and stroke his plump cheeks.   And also boop the flat part of his nose, something they'd always wanted to do.  

They stayed close to that room for the rest of the day in case he woke up and needed them to rub his belly more.  He wasn't going to be going anywhere until it calmed down and settled a bit, so they didn't want to leave him alone.  

[peeppeephellofatface]

Yeah, here it is.  Kinda short.  Mallard ate something that didn’t agree with him and Duke of Gloucester comforts him. Mostly stomachaches/gurgles/burping and that fun stuff, with a bit of chub in there as well. There’s a bit of emeto stuff in there as well, but it’s equal to or probably even milder than the fic I did with FS.

And I ended up giving it a bit of a cliffhanger ending. Which means I’ll probably end up doing a followup some day. There’s quite a bit about Mal that I’ve worked on with my friend that I haven’t addressed here ahaha. 

He awoke with a start as he felt the limp hand sprawl on his face.  

"AH!  Oh, what is it, Mal-"

He went silent as he noticed.  Mallard looked up at him through narrow, pained eyes, his head drooped to one side as he tried to stifle a deep burp.  It had been several hours since he dozed off on the Duke's lap, seemingly happy despite how he'd overdone it with the sweets, as usual.  But his shirt was still stuck several inches up his body from how distended he still was.  True, Mal did tend to stay that way longer than most, but this was unusual even for him.  

"Are you alright?" As if on cue, his stomach let out a sickening gurgle and he belched again.  Squeezing his eyes shut before returning his gaze, he answered in a quiet, strained voice.

"Ugh.  Something really isn't agreeing with me.... I feel disgusting."

Wincing, he sprawled one of his hands across his body, hissing as he pressed into the bulge of his bloated gut.  It gave another rather nasty grumble.  

"You poor thing."

He leaned over to lie on his side and pressed the back of Mal's head against his chest, nestling his back into the gentle curve of his belly.  He seemed to like that.  Being much stronger than him, the Duke had a powerful, reasssuring presence, but it was softened by the nice layer of padding on him, there in particular.  He took him a bit tighter to comfort him, first stroking his cheeks and slowly drifting down towards his middle.  It was awkward trying to touch him there, knowing how sensitive he was about it, but he tried not to squeeze to much and focus on just lightly stroking circles into it to help it feel a little better.  Fortunately, Mal didn't seem too bothered by it, too distracted by how much it hurt.  His hands felt cool against his hot flesh and he appreciated how soothing it was, especially with how nauseous he was getting.  He didn't even bother to try stopping the next burp.  It was low and pained, and a bit gurgly.  He groaned.  The Duke cast him a worried gaze.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

He bit his lip, but nodded and crawled off the couch.  Trying to scoop him up as quickly as possible without disturbing him too much, he carried him down to the bathroom, flinching and looking away as he threw up.  Usually he wasn't that bothered by bodily functions like this, but something about this sort of thing in particular just... bothered him.  Engines dropping fires was a normal fact of life, but he couldn't bear to see it done like this in this form.  It just... looked so wrong. He stood outside the half-closed door cringing until he heard Mal call him back.

"Feel any better?"

He nodded and weakly raised a hand, beckoning him to carry him back to the couch.  Or a bed.  Anywhere soft to rest, really.  He scooped up his soft, limp, body and placed him back down on the couch.  His belly was clearly more relaxed, but he could still feel its upset gurgling and churning when he rested his hand on it.  He knew Mal didn't like being touched there, but the softness did feel nice.  Though he was shocked by how willingly he seemed to let him handle him there this time.  Maybe the discomfort was enouugh to overwhelm his self-consciousness.  

"Don't go, Nate."

The Duke gave him a confused look as he rolled over and pressed his face to his chest.  

"Can you keep on rubbing my tummy?  It feels nice.  You've always been so good at it."

He wasn't entirely sure how to respond, but he nodded and placed his hands back on Mallard's plump middle and started to gently knead it again.  It was against his bare skin, too, something he'd never let him do before.  He felt him sigh in relief as he managed to relax a little.  

"Thank you.."

He smiled back at him and gave it a little pat as he kissed him on the cheek.  His eyes were beginning to sink shut again, as were Mal's.  

-------

Mal was feeling considerably better in a day or two and was back to his usual snippier self.

"When you were sick that other day, you seemed surprisingly comfortable with me touching you... there.  I'm proud of you, Mal."

"Eh, feeling like that is worse than feeling fat and tired all the time is.  At least I can still walk a bit like this and don't feel like....sleeping or getting sick or burping all the time. And my clothes fit."

"But it did seem to help you take your mind off your worries a bit."

"I guess it did."

"Oh, by the way, who's Nate?"

Mallard's face dropped.  His expression was wistful.

"An engine I know.  Knew.  A long time ago.... He's dead now."

"I guess you miss him?"

He gazed down, looking gloomy.  

"All the time.."

[peeppeephellofatface]

Here we are, the conclusion of the Flying Scotsman saga

If you haven’t read the gore fic about his terrible dream you might miss a few references, but it’s not too important.

This fic picks up where that one left off, where he meets the person from the 2006-era fics where he was sick after he wakes up after his overhaul.  He’s hungry after 10 years and the ambiguous person (”they”, fill in their identity with who/whatever you want) indulges him perhaps too much :^)

Ft. chub, stuffing, implied wg, and some burping

The person looked up at them, their mouth slowly growing to an open smile as they realized he was finally awakening.  

"Hi, Scotty, remember me?"

He looked at them, dazed and half-asleep.  His mind was a fuzz and all he could think of was the strange words that cutter had been saying in the dream.

"Maccheroncini."

"You must be tired.  I heard about the rumors that you were starting to wake up on occasion, but kept falling back to sleep.  It's okay, sweetie."

They stroked his buffer in a gentle, circular fashion.  His eyes widened as he realized who it was.  That human from... who knew how long ago. He had only spotty memory of the past few years as he had only been conscious for a few days during them.  Despite how many hands had been on him in the workshop all these years, theirs stood vivid in his memory, since they were one of the last things he remembered before they took him in for repair.  After the incident that day, he had been too scared to leave his engine out of fear of what else could go wrong in his other form.  He didn't understand it well enough to trust it.  But he was sure that his crew and the people that tended to him as an engine could handle virtually any issue without too many unfortunate results if he just stayed in this body.  

"Oh, it's you.  I remember you now."

His voice was quiet and a bit hoarse since he hadn't spoken in so long.  He gave them a gentle smile and slowly materialized in front of them, catching himself on his vacant engine as he was unsteady on his feet from not using them for a decade. He groaned, feeling stiff and sore from not moving in so long either.  They gave him a good look, mildly confused.  He wasn't quite the same as before.  Most obviously, he was wearing all black.  But that was expected. The engines always appeared in clothes the color of their current livery.  No, he definitely looked different.  At first they thought it was just from his hunched pose, but when he stood up it was definitely apparent.  

He had always been heavily built, with bulky muscles largely obscured with a thick layer of fat. According to him, the years they'd known him in were actually some of his leaner ones,  he normally was more on the soft side and not as powerful as he had been at that present, due to the modifications he'd been through.  They admittedly didn't remember exactly what he looked like back then, as it had been so long, and they never took any pictures of him (in this form at least).  He clearly filled out during the overhaul.  His thighs were definitely thicker and his middle plumper.  They remembered how he sometimes complained about how thin his face had grown before, and smiled as they saw how his cheeks had gotten fuller and rounder.  Even though he looked so different than before, he just... looked right.  Looked the way that just seemed natural, even if it was different.  It was like seeing the final version of a character after seeing only concept art before.  

His sudden embrace interrupted their space-out.  He definitely had changed.  Obviously, he didn't squeeze them as tightly due to some weakening from being still all the those years.  That was expected.  They weren't expecting how.. soft he felt.  it was heavenly.  It was strange feeling him cool to the touch like this, but the way their hands sank into his shoulders, the way his arms compressed against against their back was wonderful.  They hugged him tighter, feeling the gentle curve of his belly against them.  And the vibration of a gurgle.  They giggled at the feeling, his face getting a bit hot from surprise and mild embarrassment.

"Are you hungry?"

"W-who wouldn't be after ten years?  Heh, that's probably why I felt so hollow and empty even after I woke up from that dream. "

"Lovely, I came prepared and was afraid I'd have to eat it all myself or try to convince Mallard to. "

They walked together to one of the backrooms, his footsteps getting more smoother and more confident the more he walked as he got used to it again and some of the soreness quieted down.  His eyelids still hung half-open.  Clearly he still hadn't gotten his energy yet and was still drowsy like he had reportedly been the last few days.  Once they got there, he flopped onto the couch, limp in posture.  They poked his belly as they passed by him on their way to the fridge, just to watch him giggle and squirm, and returned to him with some cake, a favorite of his.

They decided to tease him a little first.  A hand slid up his shirt a bit and squeezed the new chub on his middle, kneading his flesh in their hands and watching as he got flustered.  Their hands trailed towards his sides, and they tensed up as if they were going to grab him again, only to tickle him instead, making him tumble backwards in a fit of laughter. Pulling back a bit, they looked at him with a satisfied smile.  It was so nice to see him like this again, cheerful and not in pain.  They stroked his cheek one last time before sitting across his thick legs and cutting a first piece of cake for him.  

He was relaxing again as he felt the cool touch of chocolate frosting against his lips.  That made him perk up, and he and greedily sucked down the slice in a few bites, hardly stopping to taste it.  Typical of him to eat so quickly.  They were sure he was going to need help getting all the air out of his stomach when he was done.  He gulped down the next slice as they rubbed his chubby belly in encouragement.  It was slowly getting warmer and bigger as he wolfed down slice after slice of the cake and devoured a second one as well.  Noticing his shirt beginning to slide up, they went ahead and tugged it all the way up, baring the grey skin of his middle.  His pace was obviously slowing down as he began to work through the third one.

"Had enough?"

He shook his head, mouth still full of cake.  They doubted his statement as they looked at the state of his stomach.  Touching it made him flinch and they could feel how distended he was under the layer of fat.  

"Are you really sure you want to keep going?  You haven't eaten in ages and I'm a little worried.  I doubt your body is used to having food in it, let alone this much."

"It hurts... but I want more.  Please, can I have the rest of the cake?"

They sighed.

"Well, I suppose. "

He went through the last few slices even more slowly and they nervously watched the growing discomfort on his face.  He did seem to be enjoying the pace, though.  It gave him the opportunity to really savor the flavor.  This particularly cake had been relatively small, but dense and almost fudge-like, with a bit of strawberry filling between the layers along with chocolate icing.  Its exterior was covered in small curls of chocolate and elaborate flowery patterns made of frosting, some of which stuck to their fingers.  Which they soon felt him lapping off their fingers as he finished his last slice.  

His head slumped sideways, exhausted.  His breathing was heavy and slow.  The zipper on his pants had been pushed all the way down by his overstuffed belly, which was very warm to the touch.  He whimpered as they placed a hand to his side to feel how bloated he was.  His skin was particularly soft and sensitive from not taking this form in so long.  They placed their other hand on his other side and pressed at them lightly, feeling just how big he managed to get.  He flushed as he felt them begin to trail kisses up his tender flesh, until they stopped just below his chest, resting the side of their face against his form and drawing their hands towards the front of his body to start working the trapped the air out of his gurgling stomach.  Just a small press was enough to make him belch remarkably loudly.  They patted him in praise, bringing up another.

"My, you've got a lot of air in there."

He pressed one of his hands over his mouth as his face got hot again.   They got more vigorous with their kneading, pausing as he shuddered with each sudden burp.  He gradually began to relax again, feeling a bit more comfortable even though his belly ached horribly, overtaxed with all that rich cake.  Even before the overhaul he often struggled with heavy food and dealt with the bloating and cramps for quite a while afterwards.  Their hands felt cool and calming against his sensitive skin and they felt him tug them on top of him, their head falling against the churning form of his swollen stomach.  They continued to caress it as his eyelids drifted shut and his breathing slowed.  He usually stayed awake longer before falling into food comas like this, from what they remembered, but they knew he wasn't used to eating yet and he was still lethargic and sore from dealing with the changes in this form.  One of their hands drifted out to rub him around his shoulders and back, before returning to his front and stroking his soft chest.  It came to a rest there as they found themself getting sleepy as well, drifting off to the sound of his stomach gurgling.  

[peeppeephellofatface]

Oh boy, here we go.

It’s FS’s last moments on earth. 

Gore fic, obviously with death at the end.  And some stuff about struggling to breath.  It’s not terribly bloody or violent and not all that realistic either, since he’s more like a steam engine inside. I'd say it’s about on par with having to do one of the dissections they at least used to make you do in middle/high school, but darker and sadder in tone because he’s still alive and stuff through most of it. If you can handle something like Cupcakes, this isn’t anywhere near as bad.  Hopefully this summary isn’t too graphic?

There was no sun that evening on the mainland.  It had been overcast all day and now the sky was gradually turning a deeper and deeper grey-blue.  Just as the light was fading from FS's eyes.  He felt the nudge of a shunter behind him as he was guided forward to his end.  He felt hollow inside, emptied of water and knowing that his time had come.  Perhaps it was a fear of pain.  Perhaps it was because he cast his gaze on one of the cracked windows too long.  He felt himself slip from his metal body and collapse onto the floor, completely limp.  The shunter followed.  

FS hadn't seen what they looked like as they guided him in.  He hadn't bothered to listen either, feeling dead inside already.  Better to completely phase out from the world than feel the coming agony in alert detail.  One would have expected it was a diesel shunter, perhaps one of the Class 08s stereotypically cast as minions of death in stories of living steam.  But it wasn't.  The E2 materialized several yards away from him, shining a flashlight at him.

"I suppose I'll take you this way, zite."

He might have raised an eyebrow as the odd statement, had he not been so dazed and exhausted. Still, the stimulation of the light was enough to alarm him.  He locked his gaze on them as they approached him.  Very, very slowly.  Agonizingly so.  A drop of pitch could have run, or rather dripped, circles aroudn them.  Running away from them should have been simple.  But unfortunately for him, he wasn't even in a state where he could stand up. The cold floor only sapped what little strength he had in him. Eventually, the shunter stood over him.  Their expression was flat.  

"I've got my torch. I'm sorry.  I don't want to do this, but I'm ready for disassembly, bucatini."

FS stared into their flashlight, alarmed.  The beam grew sharper, taking on a bluish tinge.  He knew what was coming, but not before feeling them slice through his flesh, seemingly effortlessly.  He wasn't sure where his clothes had gone.  He swore they'd been there before.  He winced from the pain as he felt the heat from the light draw away from his eyes and it cut down his body, but surprisingly it wasn't that bad.  If anything, it tickled horribly.  Really horribly.  He writhed in place, shrieking and laughing hysterically.  It was just such an... overwhelming feeling.  Not so much agonizing as it was the tactile equivalent of microphone feedback.  The cutter hissed as the cut wobbled due to his flailing about and pulled back the torch so they could take a moment to stroke his side to calm him down.  Their face was stiff like a mask, but there was a certain remorse to it.  Something about seeing an engine once so powerful now looking so pathetic, his soft eyes jerking about, tearing up a bit from the unbearable feeling of the torch, his soft body slit wide open.  They shook off the feeling and completed the cut so they could get inside him.

The inside of a steam engine is a mesmerizing sight.  Pulling back the layers of muscle and fat revealed a dizzying array of grey boiler tubes, neatly arranged, stretching from his upper abdomen to his throat.  Just as dazzling were the stays radiating from his massive firebox, suspending it in what would normally be a jacket of water, but what was simply empty space in the state he was currently in.  It was really remarkable how shiny they were.  Dozens of tiny, warped reflections gazed back at them as they stared into his insides.

"I'll take what's useful.  I'll try not to be unnecessarily cruel.  But I cannot go not without satisfying my curiosity, maccheroncini."

They drew closer to him, and traced a finger along one of the tubes, making him flinch.  They were cool to the touch and somewhat pliable.  Initial contact make him squeak from surprise, then cringe a bit.  He was obviously more sensitive on the inside.  They sighed as they turned the flashlight back on and started to cut them out.  He felt a hard sting as the torch made contact and gasped in pain.  His body jolted each time they made a cut or removed one, but his groans grew quieter and quieter, his means of doing so leaving him.  They took one in their hand and examined it.  Inside each flue were a couple smaller ones- superheater tubes.  He wasn't sure if he felt ill or enchanted by the sight of his insides.  Something about seeing them prod a finger inside one of them, leaving a coating of ash and soot on its tip made him gulp.  The idea of something he'd eaten not long ago now being right there in front of him.  And was uncanny, watching those tubes pile up beside him as he felt himself increasingly struggling to breath.  Feeling himself becoming lighter and hollower and knowing that it was a matter of time before there would be nothing left of him at all.  He could only hope there was some railroad in the skies.  Maybe it was the one John Henry was making up there.  He'd heard about that legend from some of the Americans during the war.  At this point, anything was reencouraging.

 Soon they were running out of large tubes as they reached deeper into his body, and began to remove the smaller ones.  He groaned.  These stung even more and he began to writhe again.  Unfortunately, it was as they were feeling one of them, assessing their condition, making them accidentally squeeze it in surprise, sending another wave of pain.  A deeper ache than the previous stings.  Seeing the look on his face, they released the pipe and placed their torch down for a bit, only to reach their hand in and gently stroke the irritated tubes.  It... actually felt quite nice.  He really was more sensitive in there.  They rubbed around the walls of his half-empty abdomen, weaving their fingers around his stays to stroke the top of his firebox.  He shivered again, this time in delight.  He had virtually no breath left.  He had stopped trying at this point, as they were removing the last of the flues.  In a matter of time, they were all gone.  He couldn't even try to breath.  He couldn't even pretend to be horrified by it.  He never thought the slide into death would be... smooth.  If it didn't hurt, he wouldn't have even been particularly bothered by it.  

But now their torch was reaching lower, towards the stays.  They began to cut them away, first the ones attached the walls of the cavity so they could extend their incision farther down.   These stings were the worst of all, combining the sharper immediate pain of the removal of his flues with the constant ache of when they had accidentally squeezed one.  Where each of the stays had been, a terribly soreness took its place.  As more were taken, its spread, each one sucking him in.  Perhaps they were even going numb.  He wasn't thinking straight enough to know.  The light was starting to fade from his eyes, but he felt himself starting to cry.  They were too.  

Slowly the opening grew longer, let them pull his belly open and fully expose his massive firebox.  Both of them were weeping now, but their curiosity once again got the better of them.  They just.. wanted to know.  They didn't know if they'd ever get a chance like this again.  The blue light sliced into its walls, letting them see inside.  Bumps.  The inside was covered in neat little bumps where the stays were or had been attached.  It was dirtier inside than out.  There was a fair amount of ash still on the bottom of it.  And at the top, an array of holes where the flues had been attached.  He closed his eyes and shut any feeling he had left.  He didn't want to know what they were even doing.  They reluctantly returned to slicing away the stays.  

He didn't know how long had past before the last of the stays were out.  Everything was becoming foggy.  He wasn't even sure if it was paining him or if it all felt numb.  In a matter of time, he felt himself become even lighter as they lifted out his firebox.  As it rose, he felt himself rise out of his body and into the darkness of the sky.  Out of this world

and into the real one.  His eyes shook open.  He still felt so empty.  So... hungry, ironically.  How long had he even been sleeping for?

He looked around at any reflection of himself he could find.  He was painted... black?  Did he just wake up in another dream?  He felt... odd, and rather tired and sore, admittedly.  Looking down, he noticed a human leaning on his bufferbeam, smiling at him.  

((Sorry to pull the "just a dream lol" ending, buut I wanted this to be continuous with the previous fics I did about him and it excuses the fact that I don't know crap about cutting up steam engines hahaha ))

[peeppeephellofatface]

Eh.  Rough version of the gross FS fic

I bet you thought it would be gore based on last night’s posts.  Nope.

It’s a sickfic. I’m sorry.  TW EMETOPHOBIA

Also brief mention of train accidents. 

Plot description and story below

Plot description: Sort of a continuation of the last fic. FS got worse and ambiguous person (”they”) find him getting sick. Some things might be confusing since this is a roughish first draft and it’s based on that humanoid loco biology post from a few weeks ago.  Main thing you need to know is that their stomach is basically like a firebox and they’re sorta laid out like a loco boiler tilted on end so the firebox is at the bottom and smokebox is at the top. And they burp smoke and if they get sick, it’s smoldering ashes lol

---

This evening, he wasn't in his usual spot.  They patted the bare cushion, feeling if there was any residual warmth to indicate that he had been there recently.  It was cool.  This was worrisome, as they weren't sure where else he would likely be, and he was stubborn about refusing to use a phone, meaning they had no good way of contacting him.  

Remembering that he hadn't been feeling well lately, they checked every bed, couch, and even reasonably comfortable spot of carpeted floor around, only to be equally fruitless.  This was getting concerning.  It should have been simple to find someone his size, yet here they were starting to freak out.  A horrible though crossed their mind.

What if he had been in an accident?

They stuffed their hand in one of the pockets, feeling around for their phone, only to feel something wet and sticky. Ugh.  They forgot that they'd stuck that mini chocolate bar in there earlier.  With their clean hand, they pulled their phone out of their other pocket and frantically checked the news as they headed to the nearest bathroom to clean off the mess.  Fortunately, nothing about any accidents.  They went to breathe a sigh of relief, only to be cut off mid-breath with a gasp of horror upon entering the bathroom.  

His eyes met with theirs, too tired and pained to be frantic.  He squeezed them shut and seethed before turning away from them to let out several wet, queasy belches, thick clouds of smoke flowing out and groaning as he leaned over the toilet.  He burped again and they looked away and shielded their eyes and ears as he finally lost it.  They began to slowly open them as they heard him panting and gasping for air, barely audible over the hissing of some of the water evaporating.

They were wordless, but felt the corners of their lips and brows being tugged down into a frown as they slowly approached him.  They brought their arms around his chest to help support him and stroked it gently.  He felt so limp and weak.  They felt a jolt as he got sick again, their eyes clamping shut again 

"Please, you need to stop trying to hide these things from me, this can’t be good.  I... I wasn't even aware that you could do this but this is getting really worrisome.  ....This isn't the first time you've done this, is it?"

He slowly shook his head and burped again, letting out considerably less smoke this time.  It was clear that he had lost most of his fire.  He squeezed one of their hands weakly as he then threw up what little was left of it before sighing in relief and exhaustion.  His hand tugged theirs down so they rested on his belly and they felt him nod.  They understood the message.  They traced slow circles into it, feeling it groaning and churning under their fingers.  He leaned back from the bowl, momentarily alarming them, as they were afraid he would fall back on them, but instead he flopped sideways on the rug without a sound, his face slack and mouth hanging open a bit.  They carefully arranged theirself behind him, taking the opportunity to pull him closer.  

They stayed there, gently rubbing his middle, humming quietly to him.  They'd clean up the mess later.  Thankfully, ashes didn't smell.  Hopefully they wouldn’t do any damage to the place's plumbing either.  That would sure be something to try to explain away.  For now, they just wanted him to be as comfortable as he could be.  

They buried their face into his upper back.  Usually they did it to take refuge in his strength.  But right now, with how weak he was, it was just for comfort.  Hopefully this would be enough for him to tell somebody finally.

[peeppeephellofatface]

Here’s the continuation of the sickfic from several days ago that I meant to finish yesterday but didn’t quite get to.

This one’s just some general snuggling and comforting.  Not really my best work, but still kind of sweet I guess.

They lay thereon the floor with him for a while, their hand draped over his side and gently soothing their stomach.  As time past, he was growing colder and weaker.  They didn't really want to move him in a state like this, but he was bound to only get worse if he was left there and it would only be more difficult, if not impossible, to get him anywhere the weaker he got.  

"Come on, big guy, let's find somewhere a bit more comfortable for you."

He opened his eyes limply, and took their hand so they could help him get up.  They struggled to get him to stand, due to his weight and sheer exhaustion.  Once he was up, they kept their hands loosely around his chest, in case he lost his balance.   "Easy, easy"

The two slowly made their way to the couch, him lumbering along and them nervously buzzing around him, watching for any sign of wavering.  Once they got there, they eased him down onto the cushions and snuggled up in front of him, easing several blankets over both of them to help keep him warm.   He gave them a weak, sleepy smile as they rested a hand to his clammy chest, gently sliding down until it rested on his belly.  They could feel some residual warmth, but their hand felt hot against his flesh.  They could feel its angry roiling under their fingers and softly stroked it, making him sigh a little.  

"I can't imagine you want anything to eat?"

He shook his head and pulled them in a little closer to feel some of their body heat.  They gladly let him, wanting to make him more comfortable, and because they always enjoyed snuggling against his soft form.  Both of their hands kneaded at his middle, squeezing his chubby sides every so often to make his face light up a little while they worked at calming his churning stomach.  They were briefly alarmed as he turned his head away to burp, but it was soft and airy, just a little gas they must have worked out from rubbing him.  

"How does it feel?"

He nudged himself up against them and rested his chin against their chest, slumping one of his clammy arms over them to absorb more of their warm and curling his legs a bit.  He glanced towards his stomach briefly with a hazy look of discomfort before bringing his gaze back to them.  They gave it a gentle pat and a bit of a tickle before they went back to slowly tracing circles into it.  His eyelids were drooping and his breathing slowing down.  Clearly he was getting sleepy.  Once he seemed reasonably comfortable they figured they would call the appropriate people to let them know about his situation so they could come pick him up.