#pphfffics

[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]

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]

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.  

[peeppeephellofatface]

Okay, didn’t proofread this at all so read at your own risk lol (I’ll do it tomorrow or something)

But here’s the 2006 FS fic.  Ambiguous person goes to feed him one day and he’s not acting normally and they find out that he’s dealing with some major tummy troubles :(

Mostly bloating/burping stuff with some stomach cramps and mild stuffing and chub elements in there as well.  A bit shorter than usual, but longer than the mini-fics for sure

They found him where he usually met them at the end of the day.  As expected, her was relaxing the couch, tired from the day's working pulling trains.  However, he was wrapped up in a blanket despite his face being flushed with heat. They raised an eyebrow.

"Are you cold, Scotty?"

He looked around a bit, somewhat apprehensive.

"Er... Yes.  A bit chilly, I suppose."

"I can warm up some of the brownies for you, if you want."

"Um.. sure, I suppose."

He looked exhausted, but lacked the satisfied spark in his eyes he usually had after a good run.  The lack of enthusiasm about eating was also... odd for him.  Usually he'd be the one asking them for something to eat.  They shrugged.  Perhaps he'd eaten earlier.  Maybe there were some leftover desserts after his run and he'd gladly relieved them of them.  But he seemed at least a little interested in the brownies, so they brought back a few dozen after defrosting them.  Better bring too many and refreeze them than get too few and deal with his hungry whining.

Despite what he had claimed, he didn't feel cold when they nudged his legs aside a bit to sit by him.  He felt warmer than usual, if anything.  And the way moved he shifted his weight felt stiff but lethargic.  They cast him a worried glance, but went on and started feeding him anyways.  His eyes perked up a little at the smell of the brownies and he looked a bit more excited about the prospect... for the first couple of bites, at least.  Rather than sighing and relaxing like he did normally, and greedily sucking them in almost faster than they could physically manage, he seemed to struggle to keep his head up, chewing on thing much longer than normal and shivering and groaning as he swallowed, as if it was paining him.  

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine.  Just give me more."

He tried to give them a teasing grin, but the upward curve of his brow made it look more desperate than anything.  They shrugged again and obliged him, slowly offering him a few more brownies while he looked around uncomfortably and remained awkwardly silent, his arms starting to coil around his chest.  Sensing that... something had to be amiss, they reached to rub his belly a bit, knowing he enjoyed that.  He cast them an alarmed glance, but they didn't catch it.

They looked gently back into his eyes as their hand trailed along his plump side, hoping to see his face relax, before settling it on his fat middle.  The slight smile on their face and half-lidded gaze of their eyes vanished as they felt something disconcerting.  It felt hot to the touch despite not eating much.  It also felt firm and distended the way he did after overeating, rather than soft and doughy as his relaxed belly usually would be.  But even the times before when he had overdone it and ended up overstuffed and achy, he didn't flinch and cringe as much as he was as they touched him now, especially with how lightly they were touching him.  They tugged back a bit, not wanting to hurt him further.  

"Did they feed you after your run?  You feel so bloated."

He gulped and looked away, obviously nervous.

"Um... no."

"Is it okay if I pull the blanket aside a little so I can get a better look at that cute belly?  It can't feel good judging by your reactions.

He reluctantly slid it aside, looking away in shame as they got a better look at him.  His shirt was tight against its bulging form and starting to slide up a bit, letting a little flesh poke out the bottom. They crawled up a bit closer to him and loosened his pants to relieve a little of the pressure on it, eliciting a groan from him.  

"Please, Scotty, you don't need to hide if something's wrong.  Do you know what's going on?"

He sniffled a bit before responding.

"I don't know.  I really don't know why I'm like this."

"Has this ever happened before?"

He gulped.

"Actually, I've been getting like this a lot recently.  I've just sort of ignored it since almost everything else has also been hurting.  And I've just been getting used to feeling like this..."

He winced in pain and his stomach tightened up as it cramped up on him.

" Oh, please, don't tell anyone. I need to make up the money they spent on me.  But I'm afraid they're going to notice anyways... I've been breaking down more often and it's so embarrassing."

"It's not really my business to tell, anyways.  I'm not even familiar enough with your true form to have a clue as to what's wrong with you anyways.  And I don't think they even know you can do this anyways, do they?  So it's safe with me.  But really, you ought to let them if it's getting this bad.  If something is seriously amiss you'll only be costing them more by trying to go on this way."

"I know.. I know...I just don't want to let more people down.  They saved me, I mean.  I owe them one."

They stroked his cheek, his face getting hot.

"I understand, but please, just try to take care of yourself.  Or at least make sure they can take proper care of you."

"I guess."

He looked down and closed his eyes, which were reddish and slightly moist.  They followed his gaze, their eyes settling on his bloated middle.  

"I know it's probably going to hurt, but do you want me to rub your belly?  Maybe it'll help it calm down a bit."

He nodded slightly and allowed them to slide his shirt up to better access it.  Even in this state, it was plump and adorable.  But it felt just as tight as before and felt even hotter now that they were touching it directly.  They pressed at it slightly and began to rub slow circles into it.  He flinched under them and whimpered a little, his legs curling in.  They hated doing this.  Not the action, and certainly not feeling him there, but having to see him in pain like this.  Sniffling and cringing at something he usually relished.  They kneaded the bulge with a bit more force and got him to work up a thick belch.  Not one of the usual soft ones from getting air trapped in his belly from eating too quickly.  It was deeper and shuddered, ending with a bit of a gurgle and his face tightened up afterwards, feeling a cramp wrack his middle.  His hands squeezed at theirs.  They tried to block out his pained expressions and rub the air around some more, getting another pained burp out of him.  He did seem to relax a bit this time, which was reassuring.  His stomach was starting to feel a bit softer, though his expressions made it obvious that it was still very tender and sore.  After enough coaxing, he let out a particularly forceful belch, shuddering in pain in the process, but otherwise loosening up afterward, sighing in relief.  

"Was that it?"

"I think so.  I hope so."

"Does that feel any better?"

He groaned and gingerly patted his belly, biting his lip as he did so.  

"At least I'm not so bloated now.  But it still hurts a lot.  These cramps are killing me..."

They slowly crawled over to the other side of him and placed his head on their lap, tracing along his soft jawline and placing a hand to his slowly rising and falling chest.  It didn't feel as nice as his middle normally did, but  the touch was calming and comforting to him with how much his stomach hurt.

They really did hope he'd get this sorted out some day.

[peeppeephellofatface]

I actually posted the rough version of this fic last night under the version from Thursday  so I could reread it on my phone.  Not sure if anyone found it, but who cares?  Here’s the cleaned-up version.

.Gordon isn’t up to his usual performance yet several weeks after the events of TGR and Henry’s here to snuggle and feed him so he feels a little better.  It’s all pretty fluffy and adorable haha 

He turned the corner mindlessly, heading to go relax and put his feet up on the couch.  It wasn't terribly late, but he was used to going to sleep fairly early.  He had to get up to take the Kipper at 5 in the morning anyways.  Enough light still filtered through the windows to illuminate the room without overhead lights.  It didn't bother him.  He usually just buried his face in a pillow and pretended it was Gordon's tummy.  

Speaking of him, he happened to be occupying his spot on the couch currently.

"What are you doing here?  Shouldn't you be out working still?"

He groaned and rolled over.

"He's got me on light duties.  I still haven't recovered from.. that race.  The extended repairs didn't help either."

He hissed and rubbed his face.

"Oh Gresley, I'm so sore and I barely did anything.  I'm such a wreck right now."

Henry approached the shape poking up above the cushions and lightly stroked his cheek.

"It's okay.  It's not as if I don't know that feeling myself."

"Please, just go away!"

He circled around and sat down beside him.

"IS there anything I can do?  Want something to eat?"

He placed an unsure hand on his belly, feeling a little vibration of a gurgle.

Gordon recoiled a bit, knocking his hand off.

"I guess that might be nice."

He gave him a gentle nod and left for the kitchen to retrieve some ice cream for him, then took his place beside him again and offered him a small spoonful.

"Oh please, more than that, Henry."

He chuckled to himself.  Even pained like this he was so demanding and whiny.  He scraped up a bit more and brought it to his lips.  

"That is better.  Thank you."

Unaccustomed to physical strain after an extended time in the workshops, he was tired from work and also clammy from the chilly weather.  The coolness of the ice cream didn't bother him, though, as Henry had settled himself across his thighs and gradually leaned more and more against his form, lending him some of his body heat.  He eagerly accepted a second spoonful from him

"Thought you'd be hungry."

He paused a moment after giving him a third scoop.  He lightly rubbed his stomach and placed a hand on his flushed cheek, stroking it gently.  Usually he shook off his affection like earlier,  but he appreciated it right now.  His touch was soft and gentle and comforting to him when his whole body ached.  He leaned his head against his palm and relaxed his eyes, letting them hang lazily half-open.  Henry's other hand gravitated towards his side and snuck a little squeeze, grinning a little at how soft and wonderful he felt.  He had to slow down with only one hand to steady the container and scoop with, but steadily offered him spoonful after spoonful.  Gradually, he felt him further relax against his hand and the cushions until his head rested again the back corner of the couch.  He cautiously removed his hand from his cheek and wrapped it around his back, hugging himself against him and feeling around his shoulders.  

He pulled himself right up to his face, making him whip his eyes open in confusion and surprise.

"Psst, we're out of ice cream.  You want me to get something else?"

He attempted to sit up, but struggled from the growing weight of his belly and of Henry leaning against him.  Noticing him looking down in confusion, he rested a hand on its growing bulge and gave it a pat.  

"You may not have noticed, but you went through the whole thing already.  You're not going anywhere like this.  I'd gladly rub it for you, though."

"How about you get me some more, then I'll let you touch it."

"Of course, dear."

"What? Dear?"

He didn't hear him, having already left to retrieve several trays of brownies.  The couch creaked a bit and the cushions sank as he took his place again.  

"I made these myself.  Duchess taught me something about baking while I was visiting the museum.  They're not as good as hers, admittedly..."

He brought one to Gordon's lips, as well as one to himself.  

"Mm, not sweet enough, but not bad I guess.  I'll have to ask her what I did wrong this time."

"I rather like them that way.  Though dark chocolate would be much preferred."

"Then you can have all the brownies you want, Big Blue."

He brought a hand to his plump, soft belly.  It was probably one of his favorite aspects of Gordon just because it felt so nice.  Snuggling against that one time he had fed him after having a lousy day himself was wonderful and he'd been dying to do it again sometime, perhaps after he finished eating.  He felt it swelling and pressing against his own own middle as it stretched to take all the brownies he was feeding him.  Chilly from the nippy weather as well, he appreciated its growing warmth and felt himself inching further into his form.  A gurgle vibrated through his own and he started sneaking brownies for himself every one in a while as well.

He gently began to rub his warm, and now increasingly bloated tummy.  He carefully slipped his pants loose to give it a little room, letting it bulge forward a little more.  As he worked more slowly through each brownie, Henry began sliding his hand up his shirt to feel his warm flesh more directly.  Soft, full, and fat.  Just like the rest of him.  The heat emanating from him and the plush feeling made him shiver with delight.  His hand strayed towards the center of his belly and he flinched beneath him.  He couldn't see what it was that bothered him, but he slid his hand away and grabbed another brownie for himself.  

"Please be careful around there, Henry.  I'm mostly healed by now, but it's still rather tender."

He rubbed his side again.

"From the race?  Poor thing.."

He tried to pull back a little to give him a little more room, but realized that he was rather full himself and struggled to bend his torso.

"Oh dear.  I might have snacked a bit too much as well.  Oops."

Without the comforting pressure of Henry's weight against himself, he quickly realized how overstuffed he was himself.  One of his hands clumsily grasped at his waist to feel how distended he was beneath the fat.  The touch made him whimper in pain a bit. Henry sighed and giggled at him.

"Oh, you A-classes.  You and your ridiculous appetites.  Not that it surprises me from a bunch of engines with an axle just to support your big fireboxes"

He put the tray aside and faced him directly, gently pressing his belly against his own and sandwiching his hands between them.  He rubbed him gently, the backs of his hands soothing himself as well.  

"Say, you finally let me do this to you instead of you doing it yourself.  Isn't it nice?  I've love to do this again, you know.  You're even cuter with your tummy bulging and full and you're so helpless.  It doesn't really do anything to either of us, but it's nice to see you so well-fed and relaxed.  Oh. Dear."

He let too much come out.  Gordon was silent, a little awkward about his situation.  Henry's rubbing made a burp escape.   The silence grew even more awkward.

"No, that's good, keep getting that air out and you'll feel much better."

He burped some more as Henry continued to rub him.  Despite how much he liked watching him doing it, Henry was shy about it himself and covered his mouth and flushed a bit as he felt one rise.

Their breathing was relaxing as their stomachs settled.  he reclined further until he was practically flat against the couch.  Still achy and sore from eating so much, Gordon welcomed Henry's continued gentle rubbing and kneading.  His affection could be odd a little uncomfortable at times, but he appreciated how soothing his touch was right now.  His arms felt heavy, but he draped them over Henry's back, hugging him against him.  Not as taut as his, his soft belly felt nice pressed against him.  He gradually removed his hands from between the two of them and folded them against his thick, powerful chest, nuzzling his face into it as well.  It wasn't what he usually fantasized about while dozing off to sleep at twilight, but he was happy to finally get to snuggle him for real this time.  

[peeppeephellofatface]

Have this WIP for now. Dunno if I’ll try to straighten it out, improve it, and finish it tomorrow or not.  Just not feeling it right now. Spelling and grammar is a mess and I’m not sure if I’m real wild about the tone I’ve got going either. Give feedback if you want, I guess.

He turned the corner mindlessly, heading to go relax and put his feet up on the couch.  It wasn't terribly late, but he was used to going to sleep fairly early, since he often had to get up early for the Kipper run.  Enough light still filtered through the windows to illuminate the room without overhea lights.  Not a problem for him.  He usually just buried his face in a pillow and pretended it was Gordon's tummy.  

Speaking of him, he happened to be occupying his spot on the couch currently.

"Move it, that's my spot."

"Yes, I'm done for the day.  Now shoo."

He approached the shape poking up above the cushion and lightly stroked his cheek.

"Pfft, I see plenty of roo to sit here."

"Please, Henry.  Just go away!"

He circled around the side of it and noticed the familiar shape of an ice ceam container.

"Rough day, right"

He recoiled a bit, clutching it closer to himself and hissing a little.

"Why block out your pain by stuffing yourself silly when I could be te one doing it, hm?"

"Let me suffer alone, please."

"How about I make you suffer instead?  Wouldn't that be interesting?

He smirked and lowered his eyelids suggestively.  

"Well, I suppose..."

His grin grew even bigger.  He settled down across his thighs and stroked his plump midsection, giving it a little squeeze at the end to get him riled up, before taking the spoon from his hand.  He slowly scraped up a good scoop of ice cream, and suddently shoved it between his lips.

"Like that, don't you?"

He nodded sharply, spoon still stuck in his mouth.  Henry tugged it out and just as quickly stuck another spoonful in, teasingly stroking his cheek.  The two remained wordless as he pressed spoonful afterspoonful to his lips at an increasing pace as he mindlessly packed it in. Occaisonally a free hand would reach to squeeze his swelling belly.  He could feel it getting nice and warm and started to relax again him, relishing in his body heat.  It was cute how engines like him got hotter the more they ate. It was certainly appreciated with how nippy it had been outside that day.

"Oh, you A-classes.  You and your ridiculous appetites.  Not that it surprises me from a bunch of engines with an axle just to support your big fireboxes."

He lovingly caressed the side of his stomach, feeling how it was starting to swell, making him grind his teeth in frustration.

"Oh, quit your nonsense!  Just get me more ice cream you-"

"The problem is, I'm all out.   I'll have to find you something else.  How do brownies sound?  Duchess of SUtherland taught me a little something about baking while I was visiting the museum."

"I don't care... As long as they taste decent."

He came back with several trays of brownies, but wasn't going to make himself too comfy in case he needed to get more later.  

"Here, find out for yourself."

They weren't as good at Duchess's, but still rich and sweet.  It was a happy coincidence that Gordon seemed to enjoy cold desserts with how well they froze.  If he was ever going to let him do thsi to him again, he was going to need some time to make enough to settle his enormous appetite at the rate these ones were disappearing at.  He wasn't even sure hpw anyone could eat this fast and ravenously, escpecially with all the ice cream he'd blown through beforehand.  He had to stop rubbing him to start feeding him two-handed.  In a matter of minutes, he felt him bite his hand.  

"Ow!  What was that for?"

"Just get more.  Don't dawdle."

He finally feeling a little uncomfortable after all that.  Much to his annoyance, he felt Henry loosening his pants for him a after he returned with three more trays.  But something about the humiliation ironically felt kind of nice.  

"I wonder if you can get through all these?  I even tried giving them some frosting, so they're better than the last ones."

Crawling almost on top of him, he popped each brownie in a little more forcefully each time.  FInally, he seemed satisfied with his speed.  It was a shame that he wasn'y going to appreciate his baking more, but he well understood the satisfaction og just mindlessly consuming.  He felt Gordon starting to relax under him after the second tray, getting lazier as he got tired, but still sucking them in just as quickly as before.

"Are you sure you don't want to slow down a bit?  My arms are getting tired."

"Don't underestimate me, dammit."

"But that's my l-"

"Pot and kettle, Henry.  Give me more."

"Fine, then!"

This was going better than he imagined.  He couldn't believe how much Gordon could really pack away when determined to.  He could feel his stomach getting tight and swollen beside him as he was finishing yet another round of brownies.  It gave a pained gurgle and his eyes were getting hazy, but he didn't seem to care.

"Gordon, it's probably best you stop, okay?  You don't look so good.  I don't want you to hurt yourself, okay?

"I'll manage.... Keep it coming, lazybones."

Even rude when getting exhausted like this.   WOnderful.  All the more reason to stuff his face with increasingly large pieces of brownie.  He could hear him groaning ad straining after each one, struggling with how the bloated feeling was getting to him.  

"Maybe.. I am about done.  Ugh."

"Mmm, I'd say you are.  You feel like it."

He slowly circled him and slid his form on top of his, settling his hands on his middle.  He leaned and slid back a little to let his head rest on his shoulder.  He began to trace gentle circles

V2

He turned the corner mindlessly, heading to go relax and put his feet up on the couch.  It wasn't terribly late, but he was used to going to sleep fairly early.  Had to get up to take the Kipper at 5 in the morning anyways.  Enough light still filtered through the windows to illuminate the room without overhead lights.  It didn't bother him.  He usually just buried his face in a pillow and pretended it was Gordon's tummy.  

Speaking of him, he happened to be occupying his spot on the couch currently.

"What are you doing here?  Shouldn't you be out working still?"

He groaned a rolled over.

"He's got me on light duties.  I still haen;t recovered from.. that race.  The extended repairs didn't help either.  I'm so sore right now.  I'm a wreck right now, okay?"

He approached the shape poking up above the cushions and lightly stroked his cheek.

"It's okay.  It's not as if I don't know that feeling myself."

"Please, Henry.  Just go away!"

He circled around and sat down beside him.

"IS there anything I can do?  Want something to eat?"

He placed an unsure hand on his belly, feeling a little vibration of a gurgle.

Gordon recoiled a bit, knocking his hand off.

"I guess that might be nice."

He gave him a gentle nod and left for the kitchen to retrieve some ice cream for him, then took his place beside him again and offered him a small spoonful.

"Oh please, more than that, Henry."

He chuckled to himself.  Even pained like this GOrdonw as so demanding and whiny.  He scraped up a bit more and brought it to his lips.  

"That is better.  Thank you."

Unaccustomed to physical strain after an extended time in the workshops, he was tired from work and clammy from the cool weather.  The coolness of the ice cream didn't bother him, though, as Henry was now settled across his thighs and gradually leaning more and more against his form, lending him some of his body heat.  He eagerly accepted a second spoonful from him

"Thought you'd be hungry."

He paused a moment after giving him a third scoop.  He lightly rubbed his stomach and placed a hand on his flushed cheek, stroking it gently.  Usually he shook off his affection like earlier,  but seemed to like it right now.  He leaned his head against his palm and relaxed his eyes, letting them hang lazily half-open.  Henry's hand gravitated towards his side and snuck a little squeeze, grinning a little at how soft and nice he felt.  He had to slow down with only one hand to steady the container and scoop with, but steadily offered him spoonful after spoonful.  Gradually, he felt him further relax against his hand and the cushions until his rested again the back corner of the couch.  He cautiously removed his hand from his cheek and wrapped it around his back hugging himself against him and feeling around his shoulders.  

He pulled himself right up to his face, making him whip his eyes open in confusion and surprise.

"Psst, we're out of ice cream.  You want me to get something else?"

He moved to sit up, but struggled from the growing weight of his belly.  Noticing him looking down in confusion, Henry rested a hand on its growing bulge and gave it a pat.  

"You may not have noticed, but you went through the whole thing already.  You're not going anywhere stuffed like this.  I'd gladly rub it for you, though."

"How about you get me some more, then I'll let you touch it."

"Of course, dear."

"What? Dear?"

He didn't hear him, having already left to retrieve several trays of brownies.  

"I made these myself.  Duchess taught me something about baking while I was visiting the museum.  They're not as good as hers, admittedly..."

He brought one to Gordon's lips, as well as one to himself.  

"Mm, not sweet enough, but not bad I guess."

"I like them a bit better that way.  THough dakr chocolate would be much preferred."

"You can have all the brownies you want, Big Blue."

He brought a hand to his plump, soft belly.  It felt even better than his sides.  It was probably one of his favorite aspects of Gordon.   He'd been dying to snuggle against it some more some day, perhaps after he finished eating.  He felt it swelling and pressing against his own own middle as it stretched to take all the brownies he was feeding him.  Chilly from the nippy weather as well, he appreciated its growing warmth and felt himself inching further into his form.  A gurgle vibrated through his own and he started sneaking brownies for himself every one in a while as well.

He gently began to rub his warm, and now increasingly bloated tummy.  He carefully slipped his pants loose to give it a little room, letting it bulge forward a little more.  As he worked more slowly through each brownie, Henry began sliding his hand up his shirt to feel his warm flesh more directly.  Soft, full, and fat.  Just like the rest of him.  The heat emanating from him and the plush feeling made him shiver with delight.  His hand strayed towards the center of his belly and he flinched.  He couldn't see what it was that bothered him, but he slid his hand away and grabbed another brownie for himself.  

"Please don't touch me there until I'm fully healed, Henry.  I believe it's mostly scarred over by now, but still very sore and I don't want to risk aggravating anything."

"Poor thing."

He tried to pull back a little to give him a little more room, but realized that he was rather full himself and struggled to bend his torso.

"Oh dear.  I might have snacked a bit too much as well.  Oops."

WIthout the comforting pressure of Henry's weight against himself, he quickly realized how overstuffed he was himself.  One of his hands clumsily grasped at his waist to feel how distended he was beneath the chub.  The touch made him whimper in pain a bit. Henry sighed and giggled at him.

"Oh, you A-classes.  You and your ridiculous appetites.  Not that it surprises me from a bunch of engines with an axle just to support your big fireboxes"

He put the tray aside and faced him directly, gently pressing his belly against his own and sandwiching his hands between them.  He rubbed him gently, the backs of his hands soothing himself as well.  

"Say, you finally let me do this to you instead of you doing it yourself.  Isn't it nice?  I've love to do this again, you know.  You're even cuter with your tummy bulging and full and you're so helpless.  It doesn't really do anything to either of us, but it's nice to see you so well-fed and relaxed.  Oh. Dear."

He let too much come out.  Gordon was silent, a little awkward about his situation.  Henry's rubbing made a burp escape.   The silence grew even more awkward.

"No, that's good, keep gettin that air out and you'll feel much better."

He burped some more as Henry continued to rub him.  Despite how much he liked seeing him doing it, Henry was shy about it himself and covered his mouth and flushed a bit as he felt one rise.

Their breathing was relaxing as their stomachs settled.  he reclined further until he was practically laying down nearly flat.  Still achy and sore from eating so much, Gordon welcomed Henry's continued gentle rubbing and kneading.  His affection could be odd a little uncomfortable at times, but he appreciated how soothing his touch was right now.  His arms felt heavy, but he draped them over Henry's back, hugging him against him.  Not as taut as his, his soft belly felt nice pressed against him.  He graually removed his han from between the two of them and folded them against his thick, powerful chest, nuzzling his face into it as well.  It wasn't what he usually fantasized about while dozing off to sleep at twilight, but he was happy to get to snuggle with one part of him as he fell asleep. 

[peeppeephellofatface]

Part 1 of Henry Visits the NRM.  #3 stumbles (literally) upon a very hungry Mal and I think you know what  happens. Henry as a feeder is certainly something. Eh, not my best work, but the interactions between the two are kind of amusing.

He  wasn't entirely sure why he was there in the first place.  TFC had thought that he would appreciate stopping by to meet some new faces while off working a job on the Mainland, but frankly, Henry was the sort who didn't care for such things much. He preferred the company of humans. But for fear of rumors spreading about his rejection of the offer and gaining a negative reputation on the Mainland, he accepted the offer anyways, and now he was visiting the NRM for a few days.

It was somewhat late in the evening when he arrived and he felt sure that nobody was around, so he slipped out of the engine and went to examine the inside of the hopefully empty museum on foot.  While he wasn't especially enthusiastic about meeting the engines there, he was at least a little curious about what had been going on on the Mainland all these years.  Sodor had the tendency to feel isolated from change over time, and he only understood fragments of what had transpired outside the sheltered island.  This was going to be his best and perhaps only chance to satisfy his curiosity.

He was soon interrupted from his investigating.   Several steps into the Great Hall and he tripped over a fairly large form at his feet.  After getting himself back up and furiously wiping off the dust while cursing under his breath, he glared down at the thing he tripped on.  It was looking right back at him, making him stumble back in shock.

"Hey, watch it, greeny!"

"How about you watch where you lie down?In the middle of a walkway?  Seriously?  I know this place is closed, but what if a night guard tripped on you?  Aren't there better places to sleep around here?  Like in your own engine."

"I-I was asleep.  But I had to get out of there.... I got hungry, okay.  So hungry I couldn't walk."

Henry bent down to get a better look at his face.

"Who are you, anyways?  I can hardly see your face in this darkness."

"Mallard.  The fastest steam locomotive in the world, you know."

"Oh.  I'm Henry, I'm from Sodor.  Gordon lives there too, I presume you know him?

"Well, I've never heard of you for sure. But Scotsman's told me plenty about that brother of his.  Oh, those A3s... and A0, always boasting about how they're so wonderful but they honestly can't hold a candle to us A4s in terms of looks, or speed for that matter."

"His boasting aggravates me as well... but he is quite handsome.  Particularly in this form.  Though I can't say I disagree on the speed part."

Mallard stared into space with an awkward silence. 

"Say, couldn't you do a cousin of his a favor?  Just bring me to one of the backrooms.  That's where we keep the snacks for cases like this.  Don't leave me like this... please?”

He shrugged and scooped Mallard up. 

He was considerably lighter than Gordon, so he didn't have too much trouble carrying him back.  The darkness made it hard to see him, but he felt himself blushing when he felt how soft his legs were as he supported them in one arm.  His back was rather squishy as well.  Henry was glad for the darkness.  Nobody could see how flustered he was. He hoped his knees wouldn't go weak under him until he put Mallard down somewhere. 

Being familiar with navigating the museum in darkness, he easily steered Henry to the room.  Opening the door and flicking the lights on was a little awkward, but not as awkward as the realizations that followed.

"Smooth face, small eyebrows, triangular nose.... you're not a Stanier are you?  Well, you're obviously not one of the Princesses.  But you do look quite a bit like those other Black 5s.  Ugh, good Gresley, get your filthy mixed-traffic hands off me!"

Henry rather abruptly put him down on a couch.

"Fine then,  I won't touch anything in that fridge with my "filthy mixed-traffic hands" and just leave you here!"

He was ticked at how Mallard had suddenly turned on him, but also at least a little disappointed.  Now that the lights were on he saw that while he considerably smaller than Gordon, he still seemed nice and soft.

  "Duchess shall find me eventually.  She always seems to.  Now go away, you!"

Henry rolled his eyes and shut the door on him, continuing to look around the museum some more while secretly hoping that the Duchess wouldn't actually go searching for him.   While he was incredibly peeved had how judgemental he'd been, a part of him did hope that feeding him would perhaps change his mind.  A part that he consciously brushed aside, but secretly acknowledged.  He tried to distract himself by quietly roaming around the sleeping engines and rolling stock, but in pressing it back, it only grew stronger.  He couldn't stop thinking about the thought of stuffing him with whatever he wanted, more than sating his hunger, rubbing and snuggling his soft body.  It felt perverse, but he found himself tiptoeing back to that room after at least an hour or so and noticing that the Duchess was fast asleep as he passed her.

He opened the door as quietly as possible, uncertain if Mallard was asleep currently.  He was in fact wide awake and gently rocking back and forth on the couch, pressing his gurgling stomach against a pillow so he wouldn't have to feel it himself.

"Still hungry, aren't you?  Are you sure having an engine like me feed you is so above you?"

"Feed me?  I just said I was hungry- nothing about any feeding!"

"Gordon doesn't let me do it often, but he seems to really enjoy it."

"He's a pig like Scotsman isn't he?"

"I wouldn't call him that.  He's just the way his engine can be- a heavy consumer."

He winked and chuckled to himself a little. 

"I suppose you really enjoy doing it to him  too, don't you?"

He winked at him again and gave him a knowing smile.

"Warming up the idea yet, Mallard?  Hunger getting to you yet?"

Mallard bit his lip in frustration and embarrassment.

"Fine..... You'll do.  There's some cake on the second shelf in there.  I suppose you ought to get some brownies from the freezer if I'm going to need it.  Give them some time to defrost at least.  They refreeze easily anyways."

He placed them on a table near the couch, as well as a fork.

"I'm not even touching it with my own hands anyways...."

He mumbled as he settled down on Mal's lap.  Mal groaned from his weight lying on him.  Though it wasn't terribly much compared to that of the larger engines at the museum, it wasn't comfortable for him with how weak he was.  Henry shrugged and got up, before sliding under him and scooting him onto his own lap.  He smiled behind Mal's head at the feeling of his doughy thighs pressing against his own.  Mal could feel Henry's soft belly against his back and secretly liked the feeling as well.  He soon felt the first bite of cake against his lips and devoured it as soon as he realized it was there. 

Henry took his time in removing another neat piece of cake, being careful not to spill a crumb.  Mallard ground his teeth in impatience before snapping it up as well as soon as the opportunity arose.

"Go a little faster, will you?  I'm famished."

"I'm just trying not to make a mess, you know. "

"Well can't you-mph"

He silenced him by stuffing a larger piece of cake in his mouth.  After his complaint, he starting moving a little faster as Mallard's appetite really started to kick in.  Perhaps he even took it as a challenge.  He would bring up a new piece when he was still working on the previous one, forcing Mallard to struggle to keep up.  The cake was vanishing quickly with their rapid pace, and Henry lightly laid a hand on Mallard's belly.  He grinned to himself as he felt it beginning to bulge before it was swept off. 

"Suit yourself."

He mumbled under his breath to ensure that he wouldn't hear it.

Soon there was hardly residual frosting left.  While he'd usually wipe it up with his finger with Gordon, Mallard's disgust with him and their less personal relationship prompted him to scrape it up with the side of the fork instead. 

"You Gresleys can sure get a lot down.  Are you sure you don't me to rub you at least a little?"

He eyed his now rather full belly .  He still undid his pants a little to give it some room, much to his disgust.

"Time for the brownies now."

It was a bit more awkward cutting out pieces of brownie with just a fork, but he kept them coming.  The difficulty fortunately slowed him down a little so his pace was closer to that of Mal's.  They were cold and rich and moist from defrosting.  Perhaps not as good as hot and fresh, but they were wonderful chilled as well.  He didn't seem to slow down, even as Henry quickly ran out of brownies.

"That's it.  I’m all out here.”

Mallard's eyes shot open after they had been drooping in a stuffed haze. He looked down and realized just how much he'd eaten.

 "That was the second pan of them.  I grabbed it just in case you went through the first one.  Gordon's gone beyond expectations before and I'd rather deal with after after overdoing it than him whining about still being hungry when neither of us can get up to fetch more."

"I-What?"

He looked down to see how bloated he was.  He felt pain shoot through him as the taste of the brownies started to fade.  He started to sniffle and whimper a little as the ache started to really set in and he sunk into Henry's arms. 

"Ugh, I really overdid it.  Why did I do this to myself?... Nrng."

Henry wordlessly let his hands come back to Mallard's belly and started to trace gentle circles into it.  He blushed madly at the feeling of a stranger touching him in such a tender place, particularly when he was like this.  But he appreciated the soothing feeling.

"Mm, yes, you must have.  You feel quite tight around there."

He started rubbing him with a little more of his hand and a bit more vigorous in motion.  Mallard burped in his mouth. Henry laughed at how odd it sounded, and he gave his stuffed tummy a good squeeze, grinning at how soft and plump his sides felt.  A bigger burp escaped, this one full-force as his mouth had popped open from the surprise of his touch.  He felt Henry getting a little more handsy as he pulled him in and started tickling him a bit between rubbing and squeezing him.  Despite being smaller than him, he was rather forceful in his affection.  He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about this since he was so sensitive to being touched, particularly in his softer spots, but it felt kind of nice and he let him continue. 

As his stomach settled, one of Henry's hands began to creep up to his chest and squeeze at it from the sides through his shirt.  He could hear Henry purring behind him.  His hands drifted further up to feel the little mound of fat around the transition to his underarms, then worked along to feel his pudgy upper arms on their own.  As much as he liked feeling Gordon, he also liked the feeling of control over Mallard, who was weaker than him in this state. 

"Not so bothered by my filthy hands now, are you?"

Mallard was silent.  He had fallen asleep in his arms.

"Are you kidding me?  Couldn't you have warned me first?  Now I'm stuck here all night!  They're expecting me back at the engine by the morning!"

He stayed quiet, not wanting to disturb him.  Seeing no other option, he dozed off himself.

-------- Fortunately, it was early when Mallard woke up.  To Duchess opening the door.   "Mal, are you okay?  It's very late-er early, and you're not where you usually are.  Oh, there you are!"

Mal stared at her, wide-eyed and gaping with shock.  She eyed his stomach, which was certain bigger than usual.

"Found a new friend to feed you, Mally?"

Henr woke up at the sound of the unfamiliar voice.  His eyes shot open at the sight of the lady engine standing in the doorway.

"Oh, Henry.  It's you. Mal's my boyfriend.  Nice of you to feed him while I was fast asleep.  I'm sure he appreciates it."

"Y-you never mentioned having a girlfriend, Mallard!"

[peeppeephellofatface]

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

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

1.Gordon tries peanut butter.

2. Three words.  World is Mine.

3. Gordon got too competitive.

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

5. Henry pets Gordon in strange places

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

"Here, try some"

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

"Would you like some more?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"SEKAI DE ICHIBAN OHIME-SAMA~"

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

"Thank you, thank you very much!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You look ridiculous."

He poked at his exposed muffin top.

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

He flipped a teal pigtail over his shoulder.

Mallard sighed and shook his head.

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

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

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

He remained silent out of spite and pain.  

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

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

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

He groaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You like that, I suppose?"

"Oh yes, I do."

"DO you like this as well?"

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

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

"Of course."

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

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

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

"Dammit, forgot the freezer was on top."

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

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

BEEP BEEP BEEP

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

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

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

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

But someone had noticed.

"Mal, are you in here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I guess."

He sighed.  Her touch was gentle and soothing.  

[peeppeephellofatface]

Oh boy, a Hammallard fic!

Mal isn’t  feeling too great one evening so Hamster makes him some brownies but then things get kind of sad because of his body image issues :( This didn't quite go in the direction I wanted (wanted to focus more on Mal's physical discomfort and burping), and the pacing feels kind of awkward compared to my other fics, but it's still pretty cute.

He was having trouble sleeping again.  In engine form, he felt fine, but when he appeared in his humanoid one, he realized he was getting hungry again

"Seriously?  It's only been two days since Duchess last fed me.   And I ate so much she had to get one of the other engines to drag me back here the next morning because I was still too full to walk!"

It was a strange hunger.  He placed a hand on his stomach and could feel it gurgling, but he still had a stuffed feeling that made it difficult to comfortably bend over or lay on his belly in this form.  He groaned and started stumbling over to Hammy, who was still fast asleep.  

"Duchess, I'm hungry."

SHe cracked one eye open, looking a little irritated until she saw who was talking.  SHe kept her voice down to avoid disturbing the other sleeping engines around her.

"Give me a little time to wake up and come out.  I'll fix you up something."

She yawned, then materialized in front of him, still a little drowsy.

"Okay, let's head to that backroom.  The one with the kitchen.

-----

A delicious smell hung in the air as she tended to Mallard while the brownies were cooling.

"Must be warming up to eating, aren't you?  I remember when you used to go a week or more without anything to eat.   Not as though it makes much of a difference, though.  It won't hurt you anyways."

She placed a hand on his belly and rubbed it a little.  

"Funny, you're not as soft as you normally are."

Mal wasn't sure how to take the comment.  He brushed her hand off  and shyly hid his stomach with his arms.  He was still very sensitive about his weight and appearance, especially there.  Feeling how soft and plump it was with his own hands now wasn't much better and he felt himself blush a bit.  

She looked a little guilty for setting him off like that. Fortunately, the beeping of the timer was a good distraction

"I'll go get those."

She brought the two trays beside Mal and kissed on the cheek as she came up beside him.  Then she cut away a decent sized piece of brownie and offered it to him, and he cautiously accepted it.  The chocolate chips were still liquid and each soft, dense bite practically melted away in his mouth, radiating a soft warmth.  He'd never had her brownies before, but soon was sucking them down greedily, the heat spreading into his stretching belly.  She was about bring her hand up to it to start rubbing it to make sure he stayed comfortable, but was interrupted when he turned away the last brownie she offered him.  

"Ugh, that's plenty."

"You've only had half the pan.  You usually go through more than this.  Is something the matter?"

"I don't honestly know.  I felt hungry earlier, but not a regular hunger.  I felt hungry and full simultaneously and I don't know why.  I've still got that growling eating at me now, but ugh, I feel so stuffed even though I haven't even had that much."

She gently nudged his hands out of the way to feel his midsection.  He whimpered as she pressed on his tender, bloated, stomach.

"Oh dear, you do feel distended.  Please, Mal, let me rub it a little for you?  It should help you feel better if you've got air in there.  Poor thing..."

"I guess..."

He hid his face in embarrassment as she started to roll up his shirt to better access it.

"Please don't do that."

She nodded and rolled it back down, and started gently stroking the soft bulge.  He really did feel miserable.  He had no idea why he felt so bloated and uncomfortable, but her touch was making it a bit better.  His face flushed again as he felt himself burp in his mouth, shuddering from the feeling.   He felt another one come up, but kept his mouth covered, tried to hide it from her, already embarrassed by this whole ordeal.  

"Mal, it's okay.  It's going to be fine.  Please, if I'm going to keep feeding you like this, you'll need to get more comfortable with me touching your belly.  I know the feeling.  I'm not the strong engine I used to be either, and the shell they gave me hasn't exactly helped me either.... the idea of being streamlined and running at the same time is honestly so alien to me.  I haven't done it since before the war almost 80 years ago.  It's been nearly the same time since your speed record.  I know it's upsetting, but we need to accept that we aren't who we used to be.  Even if we were to run again, neither of us is going to be able to go anywhere near as fast as we used to.  Can you please try to accept your new life?  For my sake, at least?  I hate to see you when you get upset about this, like that time with the bread.  I don't want to see you hating and hurting yourself like this."

He looked away, uncomfortable and a little scared by the prospect.

"I know it doesn't mean much to you and may even seem a little insulting, but... I kind of like you this way."

Mal gave her a quiet look of fear and disbelief, and went to gasp, but burped loudly instead.  He buried his head against her shoulder in embarrassment, his face hot and tearing up a little.  

"It's kind of sweet.  Your stomach, that is.  I love how it's so soft and nice to squeeze and rub.  I'll admit... sometimes I have fantasies about kissing it and stroking it gently like this.  I... love chubby tummies like yours."

The confession left her looking almost as embarrassed as he was.  He could feel her breathing more heavily in excitement as her shoulder rocked under him.  

"You really do?"

"Of course, Mal.  Please don't feel that your new figure is something to be ashamed because I don't like it. I really do think you're a beautiful engine in either form. I've gotten softer over the years myself, admittedly, so it would be hypocritical for me to be so harsh on you anyways."

"Oh."

He wasn't really sure how to feel about it.   Something about her adoring the part of him that had so alienated him from his pride and glory made him uncomfortable, but at least she wasn't repulsed by his new form.  That was at least a small victory for him.  He pulled his head back from her shoulder and leaned back so she had better access to his bloated stomach.  He supposed that it was best she keep rubbing it despite how humiliating it was.  The overstuffed feeling and swollen size of it was only making him feel worse about himself.  

She resumed her rubbing, making slow circles on its glutted form.  He whimpered and pulled his legs in a bit in pain.  It hurt her to see him uncomfortable like this, but she needed to put some pressure on his stomach to get the air out.  Fortunately, his flush of pain went away a little more when he burped again.  She gave him a pat of reencouragement and support each time he belched.  His breathing was getting a little less labored the more she worked, but he could sense that she was gradually getting closer to his belly with time.

"Is it okay if I feel it a bit?  You really do have a sweet tummy, Mal...especially when you're stuffed and it gets so big and bulging like this.  I'm so sorry, I don't know why, I just love it."

"I suppose..."

She grew even closer to it as she caressed its full, plump shape in her hands, gently squeezing the chub on his sides.  Before, she had felt Scotty's belly, which was considerably bigger than his, but Mal's lack of bulky muscle underneath gave it a pudgy tenderness his lacked.  Neither of them seemed to notice that her face was only inches from its soft flesh, until  she found her head nestled against it, nuzzling it softly, making Mal blush madly.  She lightly kissed it and rested her head on it.  

"Let me know if this is making you uncomfortable."

Mal didn't want to admit it, but he kind of liked the feeling.  There was something secure and nice about feeling her gentle touch against such a sensitive, vulnerable, part of himself.  He felt another burp escape, but was feeling less embarrassed now.  She patted and kneaded at his fat tummy, and heard a few more come on.  

He seemed to finally be getting tired and started to relax a little more.  She smiled in relief and contentment, hoping that her confessions had started to get him on the path of feeling a little better about his body and his gurgling belly letting her know she had satisfied his hunger.  The two soon feel asleep, her head resting on his soft figure like a pillow. 

[peeppeephellofatface]

This one’s softer and fluffier (pfft) than a lot of my other stuff.  Flying Scotsman materialized for the first time after his overhaul and checks out his new bod. 

There’s a little talk of supernatural body horror at the start, but otherwise it’s totally innocent.  Just him checking himself out in a window :P

For many years, he had avoided taking this form.  In various stages of disassembly and disrepair, he was afraid of materializing missing limbs or finding himself in a black void if he appeared missing his head.  It wouldn't hurt, the possibilities just terrified him and he was afraid he'd bump into or trip on something in the workshop and caused further harm to his nearby metal body. 

Now that he had finally run successfully, he felt confident coming out and trying to walk around a little this night.  He took a deep breath, both excited a little nervous about how this was going to turn out, and the grey face vanished from his smokebox.  

His first action was to stumble into a wall to steady himself and get used to standing again.  His legs felt a little wobbly from ten years of inactivity, making him look down at the ground to make sure he was in a stable position as he straightened himself to an upright stance.  He sighed a little in relief as he regained his balance, but he suddenly checked the ground again, noticing something peculiar.  Not with the ground, but with himself.  His felt his hand gravitating towards his belly in disbelief and mild confusion.

He was definitely softer and fatter down there than he remembered.  Of course, he was large, powerful, and splendid in both engine and humanoid form before, but he could sense that he'd gotten a little bigger over the years of inactivity.  It only made sense.  Many engines on static display that he'd met had also put on some weight from sitting around so long, so the same would naturally happen to him after sitting in various workshops for a decade.  There were engines out there such as Mallard who were disgusted or horrified from how they'd changed from their old self, feeling even further from their golden days than ever, but FS was not one of them.

He scrambled along the wall, clinging to it for support as he searched for a mirror or some other reflective surface to observe himself in.  Even while sliding along, he could feel his plusher arms and sides compress against the wall.  Soon he came upon a small room with a window that would suit his purposes.  Making sure nobody was around or inside, he snuck in, shut the door, and turned on the light.  He backed towards the window.  He could feel his heart starting to race in excitement tinged with a little fear again.  His eyes got a little wide and he dropped his hands to his knees for a moment to ready himself for his first glance at himself for so many years.  Then, he turned around to behold his reflection in the shining window.

He looked straight into his own eyes, gaping and motionless for a solid minute.  His gasp crept up into a smile as the image sunk in and he felt himself shaking in happiness.

  His cheeks were fuller than ever before.  He'd gotten trimmer during the rockier days of the war and his preservation and missed how soft and sweet his face had once been in his early years in the LNER.  Visiting his brother long ago had further rubbed it in and it was something he had secretly felt very down about.  Now he stroked one in disbelief and felt his eyes getting hot at how plump they felt against the back of his hand.  Still standing there, looking like a fool with a lopsided grin plastered across his face, he pulled back his hand and found it squeezing at his left bicep.  Or the general region where it would be.  While muscular, it was not terribly apparent even before the overhaul due to his soft build.  His fingers sank into the thickened layer of chub around it and he let out a huge sigh, feeling his whole face getting hot now from how much he loved his new appearance.  He pulled back his hand again and traced it down his neck to his chest, feeling how it had softened as well.  His movement slowed in anticipation.  His fingers were reaching his belly now.

  But he decided to let that wait.  Instead, he grasped at his rear and turned around a little to admire it.  The fact that his weight gain did little for his fairly flat butt was his only disappointment, but he gladly caressed his glorious thighs.  They had always been thick and sturdy, yet soft and plush to the touch, and now he was pleased to see that they were even fuller than before.  He squeezed one and rubbed his legs together to really let it sink in.  His hand drifted up to the small of his back, where it slowly came around to the front.  Now it was time.  Rather than feel first, he just rolled his shirt up to his chest to look at his belly.  

His first instinct was to squeal with delight. His second was to knead his now considerably chubbier tummy and enjoy how fat and cute it had gotten.  He rubbed his sides with his thumbs and squeezed it with the rest of his fingers, before patting it with alternating hands and watching it jiggle a little with each one.  It felt so nice.  He stroked the area around his navel softly.  He didn't know why he had one since he was built in a factory, but still thought it was sweet.  The thought of being kissed there came to him, making his knees weak, forcing him to go pull up a chair since he now felt to wobbly and ecstatic to stand still.  Once seated, he continued rubbing its round, soft form and stroking his new pudge.  He was sliding back in his seat in pleasure.  He wiggled his thighs and arms again for good measure, just to really let this change sink it. 

While he had been a little worried at first, he now knew his fears had been for naught.  To him, he looked (and felt) better than other.  He closed his eyes to think about how that visitor who had often come to feed him would think with how he looked now, knowing how much they loved soft, chubby bellies like his.  The feeling of their hands rubbing him after being stuffed with desserts.  He sighed again, and his fantasies started to drift off into dreams.

[peeppeephellofatface]

It’s late, but here ya go.  I wrote this fic in a frenzy after getting the idea.

Mallard and Union of Africa swap clothes and crap happens.  I won’t say what because I don’t want to spoil anything.

Not much kinky stuff here, but some WG and chub elements present.

Also warning for some body image issues and there’s a rant that gets pretty dark.  Just saying in case that stuff bothers you.

Mallard was quickly realizing just how terrible this idea had been.  

Union of South Africa had stopped by to pay him a visit.  While chatting idly about their lives, Uni brought up the topic of liveries.

"I haven't been blue in so long, Mal."

"Nor have I been green.  That won't be changing any time soon."

Uni sighed in disappointment and was silent for a moment.  All of a sudden, he perked up in a  display that practically warranted a lightbulb appearing above his smokebox.  

"Changing, CHANGING! That's it!  Do you suppose we would be able to wear each others' clothes?"

"Well, I suppose we could try if you really want to.  I can't see any reason why not."

In hindsight, he could have avoided this embarrassment if he'd thought through the concept even a little.  While he wasn't sure how, but whenever a locomotive materialized in this form, their own clothes would always morph to fit their bodies appropriately.  This did not apply to anyone else wearing them, though, and they would remain the exact size they were on the original wearer. Uni had been active all these years while he'd been sitting in a museum, so at the very least his clothes would have been embarrassingly baggy around his limbs, which had atrophied considerably from years of inactivity. But now he was experiencing something even more humiliating. He hadn't had too much trouble getting his pants up his legs, until he realized how tight they were getting towards the top of his thighs.  With a good tug, he had managed to heave them up, but quickly realized he had a bigger problem at hand.  The zipper was stuck wide open, his rather plump stomach forcing it open.  In addition to weakening, he realized he'd obviously fattened up over nearly three decades of static display.  He desperately attempted to suck in his gut and pull the zipper up, but it was hopeless.  He felt his face get hot from embarrassment and fear of what he was going to have to do to get out of this humiliating situation. 

"Maybe if I just leave his shirt loose I'll be able to hide it.."

Once again, he could squeeze his arms in, though he was now painfully aware of how soft they had become with how his pudge bulged out at the ends of the short sleeves.  He felt uncomfortable with the length of the sleeves alone, as he'd always worn longer-sleeved shirts, due to his engine's side valences,  and seeing that much bare grey flesh made him feel naked and exposed.  Buttoning the shirt started off acceptably as well, though the tightness around his softened chest made him feel nearly as ashamed as his trouble with the sleeves.  Unsurprisingly, he had a harder and harder time fastening the buttons the farther down he went.  Straining with the buttons and feeling how much fatter and doughier his belly had become since he last remembered proved to be too much for him.  Undoing a few buttons so he could bend over and breath at least a little, he leaned against the wall and gradually slid down it until he was sitting against the floor, his face pressed against his knees as he cried in shame and disbelief. 

He couldn't face his brother like this.  He'd never let it go.  A record holder, now reduced to not even a shadow of his former self.  A terrible mockery, maybe.  He was already having trouble walking and balancing these last few years, but this just rubbed his condition in and he knew he could do nothing about it himself.  He was a popular exhibit in the NRM and he was bound to never steam again anytime soon, meaning this form would surely do nothing but deteriorate further.  Was this like a prolonged version of what engines left to rot experienced?  Did they even dare to take this form?  He didn't even want to imagine what an abandoned, decaying engine would look like like this....

All of a sudden, the door swung open, making him jump back in shock, curling up to hide himself from the intruder.

"Oh, hello there, Mal.  Just here to retrieve a snack from my... personal chocolate stash."

Slowly at first, but then suddenly upon realizing who the intruder was, he swung his pathetic, reddened,  tear-stained face up and glared at Flying Scotsman with a bizarre mixture of crushing despair and amused disapproval.

"What did they tell you about the damn chocolate, Scotty?"

He went to brush off the admonishment, but instead stared at him, his jaw hanging open, as he saw the look on his face.  He dropped the seven chocolate bars clasped in his hand.

"Mal.... Are you okay?  You look like a wreck."

Mallard's eyes widened and his knees squeezed tighter to his body in fear, afraid of his cousin's reaction.

"Nothing.  I'm fine."

He squatted down next to him.

"That's what they all say when they're really not.  It's okay, Mal.  I know we've had our family quarrels, but please trust me.  If you don't want to talk to me I can get Hammy, but whatever is going on, you probably shouldn't be bottling up if it's leaving you like this."

He sighed, then relaxed his legs until they were flat against the floor.  His grey belly poked out of Uni's clothes and settled across his thighs.

"Uni wanted to try swapping our outfits.  And I'm too damn fat to fit in his. How did I get this way? I can't face him like this, it would be an embarrassment."

He blushed madly and tried covering it up.  FS didn't even notice, as he had fallen backwards in a fit of laughter and was rolling clumsily around on the floor.

"Stop it.  Just stop!  You're just making it worse, dammit.  And get up, you're a locomotive, not a damn mop!  Where is your dignity?"

FS only momentarily paused to take a breath after the fit of laughter.

"THAT'S what's got you down?  Oh Mal, that's nothing. Try bouncing between owners, getting stranded in foreign countries, threatened by scrapping, spending ten years cooped up being overhauled after they keep finding more and more problems with you, and constantly feeling like it's all your fault for being so costly!"

Contrary to what Mal had demanded, the last statement made FS go into even more hysterical laughter out of disbelief.

"WAHAHAHA-ha.  Seriously, that's really not a big deal.  Almost nobody even knows we can take this form, let alone sees us in it, including you.  If you hate it that much, just don't take your humanoid form.  Honestly, it's typical for any engine made to sit around long enough to get a little chunkier.  Including me during that overhaul, you know.  I must say, I actually rather like it.  Now I can mock my brother even more for being the runt of the family.  Only one to never become an A3, you know.  And all the ladies and a whole lot of other folks as well want to rub this soft, amazing tummy, you know. Also, I must say that I love these... sweet cheeks."

He placed a hand on each side of his face and wiggled them up and down a little for effect.  Mal rolled his eyes.

"Besides, it's kind of cute on you anyways."

Mallard still look unamused. 

"Give me all the pep talks and reencouragement you want, but I still have to face Uni somehow. He's bound to mock me and tell everyone else about how I've gotten like this.  What am I going to do about this?"

"If you're that upset over all of this, give me them. I'll wear them.  Give him the shock of his life."

He was not sure how to react to this prospect, but it was an opportunity to avoid embarrassing himself.  He decided to take it.

"Give me your shirt first, though."

"What? I already know about your ducky underwear.  Everyone does.  But if you insist, fine."

With a little flourish, he removed his shirt and let it flutter onto Mallard's lap.  He quickly hid his belly behind it and wiggled out of Uni's clothes, handing them to him sheepishly.  FS proceeded to shamelessly strip his pants as well in front of him, but bolted off to another room before he put on Uni's outfit. After a few more minutes and some annoyed knocks from Uni on the door of the room Mallard was cowered in, FS paraded out of a nearby room. Other than being a little loose everywhere but on his calves and forearms, which were awkwardly tight, Uni had had little issue changing into Mallard's getup.  And besides the fitting issues, he thought he looked rather dashing in blue.

The opposite could be said for Flying Scotsman.  He had to waddle due to Uni's pants getting stuck at his knees, leaving his thick thighs (and heart print undies) poking out.  By some sorcery, he had also managed to somehow to get his shirt over his shoulders and arms, stretching it to a precarious degree.  Perhaps by some other sort of sorcery, he managed to close exactly one button, which left his chubby and magnificent belly on full display.  He had to desperately hold in his laughter and not strike a fabulous pose, lest he end up tearing something.  He wasn't sure if these things could be fixed or not. Needless to say, Uni stood there in shock.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?"

"Mmm, Mal though I look better in it than him.  I suppose I wear green already, but I do rather like how this.... accentuates my curves, you know?" "Please, whatever you do, don't rip anything, Scotty.  Oh dear.  They really weren't kidding when they claimed you were the chunky one of the family..."

"Oh yes, I am~  But I do look nice in this getup, now don't I?"

He sighed.  Just Scotty being an attention whore again. 

"Yes, yes, you look wonderful.  Now give me that back."

FS stripped in front of him as well, not as though Uni's clothes covered much anyways.  He mumbled to himself as he watched his cousin. 

"Mallard, what the hell were you thinking?  What was the purpose of this?  Oh, Gresley..."

"Okay, now how about you give Mallard his back so he doesn't have to walk around undressed?"

"Oh, yes, right."

He changed quickly and handed Mallard's clothes back to FS, who carried them off to his hiding space, still wearing almost nothing.

"How did it go?"

"He wasn't very amused.  Told me to take it off before I ripped something."

"I wouldn't trust you with wearing mine either, frankly."

"Well, if you don't want that to happen you better give me mine back before I decide to go blue again.  Would be a nice change from my usual green.  Sleeves could be a problem.  Now please, I'm getting cold without a shirt and I'd like you to make a decision."

Mallard hissed from behind the door and yanked them from FS's hands before stuffing his back through the crack.

[peeppeephellofatface]

Henry/Edward/Gordon fic here :)  It takes place immediately after The Great Race.  Henry and Gordon come home from the Great Railway Show and Gordon has a really bad stomachache from his boiler bursting(?) and Henry is annoyed and sad about his ow performance, so Edward tries to calm them a bit. 

Lots of tummy rubs and some cuddling later on, but otherwise one of the tamest fics I’ve done so far. Obviously, discussion of Henry being horrified by Gordon getting hurt in the race and being pretty self-deprecating.  It’s kind of a sadfic more that kinky stuff haha.   Enjoy, I suppose.

Edward had enjoyed the peace and quiet on Sodor while many of the other engines were off at the Great Railway Show.  With the rowdier folks gone for the day, life for once was calm and uneventful and he was able to just take his trains and do his jobs without having to help Gordon, James, or Thomas out of a sticky situation.  After a long, but very satisfying, day of hard work, he rematerialized into his humanoid form to go rest his head and relax.  

From his exhaustion, this nap morphed into a regular night's sleep.  One that was broken a little after midnight, when he was suddenly awoken by the creak and slam of a door.  Half-asleep, he managed to stick the pieces together in his mind and realized who it must have been.  He slowly sat up so they would be able to see his face over the back of the sofa and turned to the pair who had entered.

He didn't bother to ask them how the show went.  Henry looked.. passable, though clearly exasperated and tired. His face was still a little pink in places, as he had clearly not completely cooled off from the competition.  Of course, the fact that he was also struggling to haul Gordon around in his arms likely had to do with it as well. 

It was odd.  Gordon wasn't the type to accept defeat and let others help him out like this if he had his heart really set on something.  He must have either been exhausted from the race of his life, or a complete disaster, based on seeing him like this. 

"Gordon, are you alright?"

Gordon himself was silent other than a groan.  Henry ended up replying, through teeth gritted from straining a bit from his weight.

"Passable, but not well at all.  They got him patched up well enough that he was able to make it back here, but he seems to still be in a lot of pain.  Could you move?  I really need to set him down somewhere."

Edward scooted to the edge of the couch, letting Henry gently lower Gordon onto it.  He found that he had far more space than he usually did when Gordon sprawled out on the couch. Rather than draping his long limbs across the sofa, Gordon was slowly curling his soft thighs tighter and tighter to his stomach, his arms wrapping around them, and rocking a little in pain.  Edward bent closer to Henry and started to whisper, not wanting Gordon to get wind of what he was saying.  He was starting to get a bad feeling about this.

"Do I even want to know what happened?"

Henry's winced a little, both in concentration and recalling the mental image.  He bit his lip a little in thought, not knowing quite how to explain it to Edward.

  "I....honestly have no idea.  One minute he was speeding along- he looked a little hot but that was about it- but then there was this terrible bang all of a sudden...."

His eyes were growing wider and he could hear his breathing getting a little quicker and heavier.

Edward patted the empty bit of couch next to him.  While having  two much larger bodies on it forced him to squeeze in a bit, he didn't mind it.  One of his arms crept halfway around Henry's shoulder and started to stroke him on the back.

  "I flinched at the sound. I mean, I've never actually seen this sort of thing happen until this time I guess..  I was so far away that all I could really see was a blue blur throughout the race, but I couldn't open my eyes.... I just really didn't want to see what happened to him. I didn't want to see the tubes sticking out or parts of him flying everywhere...."

He was hyperventilating a bit.

" Then I heard the announcer say he was out of the race.... words can't describe how much of a relief it was that he was saying something rather than just gasping in horror or keeping an uncomfortable silence.    I honestly don't know how it ended up being that minor, whatever happened.  It sure knocked a few panels loose on his casing and he got left in the dust, but otherwise it was just sort of a pop."

"I guess they got him patched up enough to slink home, somehow.  He's at the works currently, but I had him materialize when we got closer to here and let the drivers take over for us so I could bring him back here.  He's been in a sore spot with his brother from what I've heard and I didn't want him all alone with his thoughts."

Gordon's eyes began to creep open as he overheard Henry and Edward's conversation. He whimpered a little in pain and hugged his legs a little closer, his eyes half-open and hazy from pain. 

Edward turned around and gently stroked the soft, warm flesh of one of his cheeks with the back of his hand.

  "We really ought to get him into something more comfortable than that getup.  It looks awfully tight."

"There's probably some of my old clothes around here, we used to wear about the same size back in the day, after all."

"Where would they be, Henry?"

"I'm not sure.  Maybe the back of a closet?"

Edward shrugged and started searching for something.  Henry had deliberately avoided the prospect of having to look for them himself since he wanted a moment to admire how Gordon looked up close for a few minutes.   The tight fabric clung to his form, particularly his legs, digging a little into his full thighs and making the pudge bulge out a little more at the end of its sleeves.  His skin was still tinged pink and fairly hot to the touch, due to overheating earlier. 

"That was surprisingly easy to find."

Henry jerked back from admiring him and looked at Edward. 

"I know you hate others doing this kind of thing for you,Gordon,  but hopefully it'll feel a little better.  Sorry about the green, it's all I could find."

They got him changed fairly quickly as they could, which was difficult due to his curled position and size compared to them.

  "There.  That should feel a little less tight, now."

He sighed a little, both as a silent "Oh, the indignity" and from relief of some of the pain.  A light touch was soon brushing across his stomach, making him flinch at first, then relax a little more.  The soft motion was a nice distraction from the pain.  Edward moved to petting him with his palm, but maintained a light touch so he wouldn't aggravate his pain.  Gordon whimpered a little when Edward drew his hand towards the top of his tummy, a particularly sore spot currently.  He pulled back in response, then returned his hand to the lower portion of his stomach and lightly rubbed it a little more.

"So, Henry, how did your contest go?"

"Terrible.  But how could it have not?  I'm not even the strongest engine on Sodor and those international engines handed my tender to me.  They were so huge... much bigger than Gordon even.  I did try, though, but  I don't know why I did with how hopeless it was. They should have taken Murdoch instead."

"Did you enjoy it otherwise, Henry?"

"Not really.  I think that the Fat Controller had me do it because he felt bad for me."

"Well, you do work hard.  Maybe he felt you deserved it?"

"Hard work is nothing.  They could've put Mavis of all engines into it and no matter how hard she'd try, she wouldn't stand a chance.  Just like me.  I suppose the best part was watching the events ... if everyone doing so badly and Gordon's incident didn't ruin everything."

Edward brought his free arm around Henry's back and patted him on the shoulder.

"If you don't want to go back next year, I'm sure he'll understand. Especially after what happened with Gordon."

He gave him a gentle smile.  Henry's stomach interrupted it with an audible gurgle, which made him scrunch up in disgust. 

"Would you like something to eat?  It's been a long day, so you must be hungry."

He wasn't sure how to reply.  He had that empty feeling, but was too weary and wound up to actually feel hunger.  It was almost the opposite of having cravings when already satisfied.  He just couldn't feel that he deserved to reward himself and almost wanted to feel miserable himself after a miserable performance.

"Not really."

"Okay.  Do you want your tummy rubbed, at least?"

"...I suppose."

Edward had gotten used rubbing Henry when he was bloated and achy after heavy meals as of recently. He hadn't done it much in the past, but seemed to have picked up the habit of overeating from Gordon.  He lightly pressed his fingers into the doughy bulge of chub, wiggling his fingers a little and feeling his flesh compress under them.  It was a bit odd to feel his stomach when it was empty like this, since he hadn’t petted him empty like this since he used to soothe him when he was ill, but the softness of it when relaxed like this was heavenly.   Constant gurgles rumbled from below, urging him to press a little harder to calm them, though Henry seemed unaffected by his hunger.

"Are you sure you don't even want a glass of milk or something?  Perhaps you'll feel a little better if you have something, at least?"

"I guess."

He noddedin silent agreement, then turned around to check on Gordon as well.

"Hello, Gordon.  Are you feeling any better?  Up to talking yet?"

"Scoot over."

"I can't really move over any farther with Henry sitting over there.  How about I get the pull-out bed so there's a little more space?"

He nodded weakly and continued stroking his belly tenderly, still sniffling a little in pain. 

"Henry, do you think you could deal with that while I go get you some milk?"

"I guess."

He got up, a little unsteady, and casually scooped Gordon up, then dealt with the bed while Edward was gone.

"This should give him more room.   Here you go."

It creaked a little under Gordon's weight as he was placed on it and as he shifted around trying to get comfortable.  Henry gulped the milk down, not enjoying it particularly, but he felt Edward was probably right.  He did feel a little better with something in him.

Edward came up behind Gordon and wrapped one arm over his back, and the other over his shoulder and across his chest to knead him gently, hoping it would comfort him a little or at least put him back to sleep.  He found himself pressing his body closer into to nestle himself into the warm, plush curves of his back.  With the hand draped over his shoulder, he guided his face towards his own before nuzzling one plump cheek and stroking the other.  Henry found himself lying behind Edward after polishing off the milk, bringing both arms around him and pulling Edward into his chest as well, squeezing away the pressures and disappointment of the day.    His chubby tummy pressed into the small of Edward's back, making him purr in delight from the feeling of two softly padded bodies pressed against him.  Henry's still rumbled a bit as he hadn't consumed much, but it felt slightly fuller against his back than before.